#does nothing but gaze down at him in fear and betrayal

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

oh sue...of COURSE i read the tags :D

Sun and Moon's relationship...I think I wrote a lil thing about it, hol on:

Okay, so the short post I made about that is here, although there's probably more here and there in other ones, but I feel like adding onto it a lil bit.

Sun and Moon don't really talk to each other at all. They sort of fell out of touch after Moon's...promotion. Both of them are very protective of children, so Sun is naturally horrified when he finds out that the kids he takes to Moon at first suddenly stop showing up, and it gets worse when he sees the Statue Garden and the clearly petrified children (haha...get it? petrified?) that Afton tasks them to look after.

I think it's important to note that literally everyone was told to be on the lookout for humans when Afton first came into rule, including Sun. In fact, Sun and Moon were both tasked with finding children due to their seemingly natural skill with them, though Moon more so because of his...unique skillset. After finding out where exactly the children are being taken to, Sun drops out of the position and tries his hardest not to succumb to that urge to just hand them in, similarly to how he has to fight himself to protect you. The last time he didn't fight didn't end well for anyone. Leaving the guard sort of meant having to leave Moon, who didn't really see much of a problem with what they were doing. The reason for that is because that urge is more hardwired into him. Ehehehe.

Moon doesn't understand why Sun stopped talking to him after that. He doesn't remember doing anything wrong, and sure, they disagreed about their jobs, but he wasn't doing anything bad, was he? No, of course not, he's not hurting the children, he would never, he's protecting them, protecting them from all the hardships they'd have to face out there. No no, it's much safer here in the garden. Yes yes yes, Sun just doesn't understand that, not yet. That's okay, he'll make him understand somehow. Yes yes, he'll make him see one way or another.

Until that happens, though, Moon is content to just look out for his brother in any way he can. Though he is loyal to the rabbit on the throne, he isn't particularly fond of him, only following his orders because the both of them agree on what is best for the children. Sun, however, is not held as highly as Moon is in Afton's eyes, and so Moon was promoted to be one of Afton's right hand workers in order for Sun to be let go, a fact which Sun himself is not aware of. Moon also makes sure that the White Rabbit doesn't venture into their neck of the woods. Moon doesn't like the White Rabbit, no, no, she's far too careless and far too eager to hunt. A chase, he can understand; chase in the spirit of jest, but he dislikes the ruthlessness which she displays.

Other than that, though, these two don't really see each other anymore, Sun out of fear and horror, and Moon out of respect and loyalty. As much as Sun might try to deny it, however, he is a bit like his lunar counterpart, something which he refuses to come to terms to. And when you come into the picture?

...Let's just say their disagreement gets a bit more personal.

do we get to kiss the narnia au blorbos 👀 how does our relationship with them develop throughout the course of the story? how does it start with both sun and moon and how does it end up? any significant trouble spots you can hint at without spoilers (unless you dont care abt spoiling!!)

and also i forgot if you already pointed this out somewhere but is there an aslan character? if so, who?

*inhales*

THANK YOU

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME TALK ABT THIS

okay. SO:

Yes, you probably will get to kiss the narnia blorbos...probably. Thing is, I'm not really good at developing romance plots (mostly cuz my brain never actually goes that far in planning and I always get caught up in leading events), but yes, I'm hoping I can actually get that far.

In terms of development...? Definitely Sun first, simply because he falls hard the second he meets you. Unfortunately, it's less because of you and more because of his past with humans and how scarce they are. You're the first human he's ever actually been able to talk to, you're there and you're real, and he doesn't want to let go of that. And it gets even better when he realizes that you like him too; after all, why else would you keep coming back to this dull and dreary world? He hasn't talked to anyone in a long time, and he doesn't want to give that up so soon, and of course, he has to protect what's his, doesn't he? Yes yes yes,especially in a world as dangerous as this one! He feels a strong need to protect you, especially after you meet Moon, who has a...slightly less pure love for you.

(Keep in mind, by the way, that Sun can be just as dangerous as Moon should he choose to be.)

Moon is definitely interested in you upon meeting you, but for...other reasons. He hasn't seen a human around in a long time either, or at least, not one who's lasted so long without his notice. Sun's lucky that Moon looks out for him, or the White Witch would surely punish them both for not handing them over. Thankfully, Moon is there to correct Sun's grave error by collecting the human himself! He hasn't had a new charge to tend to in a while, after all.

The Stone Garden is quiet up on the hill.

Moon does find you sweet and charming in your own little way, and he likes you, but like Sun, he wants to keep you for himself, and so he tries to convince you to take up his offer on visiting the Stone Garden and stopping by sometime, he's sure you'd like it, and he could protect you so well, just like all his other silent charges. You're so fragile, and fragile things need to be protected, yes yes, that's his job, the silent protector. And you're on board with it, too! Sure, he hasn't specified how long your visit would be, but you didn't seem to mind, none of his charges did in the end, or else they would surely say something about it. Every time he tries to take you, though, something pops up, and you leave him behind. Someday, he thinks, someday he'll have you all to himself.

Anything that could get you in trouble...? Well, a lot of things, actually, not that you really seem to mind. You find a good deal of interest in this world and its inhabitants, and they're all so friendly. Fortunately enough for everyone keeping a lookout for you, your obliviousness keeps you blissfully ignorant of all that goes on in the woods, and everyone is free to conspire as they wish. A few words of advice Moon's charges could have given you if they could voice them, however:

Trust no one.

Do not test the Dark Moon.

Beware the White Rabbit.

Avoid caves.

Don't eat anything offered.

Leave while you still can.

As for Aslan....

*laughs nervously*

weeeeelllll, someone suggested it being Michael, but the image of Freddy as a literal god was just to hilarious not to include, so I left it at that. Unfortunately I don't know much game lore regarding Michael (I really gotta do some research when I have the time), but I'd probably include him in Aslan's army as one of the people who escaped before Afton rose to power. After that, none of Aslan's followers were able to leave on account of being trapped in ice, and most of them were swiftly dealt with.

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 2) - August!

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: this sweet one is set just before they broke it off (or rather, before the reader stomped all over his heart) in part five!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

August! (... slipped away into a moment in time)

It's a fine morning, albeit lazy, you and Ewan having done nothing but lay in bed and talk and cuddle.

Granted, you did a lot more than talk over the course of the night. And this continued in the morning, with Ewan gently coaxing you out of sleep in need.

He's been insatiable, not that you can blame him. You two are finally together, after months of dancing around each other, your friends in eager anticipation to see how the 'will-they, won't they' dynamic will culminate.

They'll be pleased to know that it all led up to the best date you've had so far, followed by a night of bodies burning for the other, marking their territory in the throes of pent-up desire.

Ewan was sure he would remain the gentleman, merely driving you back to your hotel and calling it a night.

But you had invited him upstairs for a nightcap. Maybe some tea, as the Brits do. Needless to say, the tea was quickly forgotten, along with any reservations he might have about simply having you.

The haze of it hasn't subsided. Clad in nothing but undergarments, your limbs are tangled with his under the sheets as you watch the newly released New York foods video he did with Tom a while back.

"Baby?" you say, running your fingers through his hair as he has his head propped on your thighs. The screen plays on, showing the lads thoroughly enjoying some New York City hotdogs.

"Hmm?" he responds, his voice hinting at how soothed he feels from your touch.

"You're such a baby."

"What?" He twists his neck to shoot you a look of betrayal. Adorable.

"I bet those chips weren't even that spicy," you say, rolling your eyes. "I would have devoured those jalapeño chips."

"They were spicy!" He leans against his forearm, which he quickly positioned on your thigh without thinking, causing your muscle to spasm from the sudden weight.

"Ahhh, Ewan!" you wriggle your legs. "Get off, get off..."

"Shit!" He bolts upright, immediately kneading the flesh with his palm. "Sorry, baby. Here, where does it hurt?"

You sigh audibly. "Oh, you." You narrow your eyes at him playfully, trying to look all tough, but apparently he takes it as a cue to press his lips to yours.

It's warm, a bit sloppy, your breaths stale from wine drank over the course of the night. And you don't mind at all.

He croons in your ear, "How do I make it up to you?"

"It's fine, I was only kind of messing - "

"Come now, darling, anything."

He gazes at you, awaiting an answer. In the background, you hear his voice saying, The Fuegos... I didn't like them, as the video comes to a close.

I saw your eyeballs sort of pop out your head a little bit, Tom says in response.

This is going to be fun, you think, smiling evilly to yourself.

Rising to your knees on the bed, you loudly declare, "Today, my love, you will conquer your fears and eat my favourite spicy food."

"Nooo!" He shakes his head right away, already plotting how to get out of this predicament. "Baby, please make me do anything else. I can't handle my spice!"

"My mind is made up."

"What if I do that thing that made you scream last night? When I buried my tongue insi - '

"Ewan!" Your face reddens, but you carry on. His face will soon have the same reaction, but for different, more savoury reasons. "I mean, I would like that but - "

"Alright, let's go baby, spread your knees - " he nods, desperate to placate you and your challenge, but also eager to get down to business.

You shuffle away when he tries to pry your legs open. " - I said I made up my mind! We're eating spicy food. We gotta eat anyway, I'm starving."

He groans, collapsing back on the bed. He runs his hand tiredly over his face, mulling it over. As if he actually has a choice. He wants to do this for you, seeing as how excited you're getting.

"Get up, ol' sport," you crawl on top of him, perching above his stomach. "We're gonna go get the goods."

"Hmm," he sighs contentedly, one look at you more than enough to quell his worries. For now.

"Okay, darling," he relents, then his eyes flash in mischief. "But before we get out of bed... how about I do that thing anyway?"

There is not a single chance in the seven hells that you could ever say no to that.

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An interesting spread is laid out on the round dining table in your hotel suite.

Your stomach growls in anticipation, while Ewan is stiff as a board as he sits beside you.

"I'm hungry, aren't you?" you nudge him, but he only moans, throwing his head back in his chair.

"What if I'd already eaten? I can skip this?" he tries.

"And what the hell did you eat?"

He smirks, and even though his answer won't save him from what follows, it renders him gleeful all the same. "You," is his reply.

That prompts an eye roll, but you shake your head at him fondly. "What should we start with, baby?"

"Water."

"Come on."

"How about the strawberry milk?"

"Okay, then I'll pick." You clasp your hands, surveying the options. "Let's start with something easy." You settle for the bowl of Flamin Hot Cheetos and place it right in front of him.

You help yourself to a few pieces, before noticing that he hasn't moved a muscle, so you take one and bring it to his lips. "Open up, handsome."

"Mmmm," he tilts his head away on instinct, but he gives in after a second. He makes a face as the snack crunches in his mouth. "Not... bad, I suppose.... Urghhh - " he coughs a little, making you snicker at him between bites.

"That's not spicy at all," you say. "At least, it's nothing compared to what we'll have next."

The chicken wings are an unnatural bright red colour, covered in hot sauce and dotted with flecks of chili. You lean down and take a whiff, your nose scrunching as the strong hint of spice hits your senses.

Your placating smile does nothing to ease Ewan, who only looks like he is regretting his life choices on the spot.

"O-kay, dragonblood. Time to breathe fire," you remark in an attempt to inspire some confidence in him. Didn't he take pride in playing a Targaryen dragonrider? Surely some part of him would want to overcome the big, bad opponent that is known in our world as spicy wings.

"Breathe fire?" he exclaims. "That does not make me feel any better!"

"Do it for Vhagar, my love. Do it for Vhagar."

"I'm doing this for you," he corrects, before gingerly taking the smallest bite of a wing. He waits for the impact, confused when nothing unpleasant occurs.

So he bravely takes another, heartier bite.

Big mistake.

His hand gravitates to the glass of water, and he chugs it down like a lifeline. His once pale face becomes the same hue as the fiery culprit.

"Fffuck, ba...by," he hiccups. "I didn't like that at all."

You have a bite, wincing just a little when it hits your throat. It wasn't too bad, so you tell him to calm down.

He complains anyway, "I think I just saw my life flash right before my eyes."

You chortle at that, which unfortunately makes some of the spice travel up your nose. "Oh god!" You instantly take a huge gulp of milk. "Don't make me laugh!" you say, when the heat dies down.

"See?" he cries out in vindication. "Why must we torture ourselves, darling?"

"The food's tasty," you counter.

"Yeah, but is it worth the price?"

You grip his shoulder, dramatically saying, "We have to keep going, soldier."

"No."

"Yes."

"You won't break up with me if I refuse, will you?"

You pause, making it seem like you are seriously deliberating it. "Maybe."

"What?!" His expression takes on a more real sense of alarm.

"I'm kidding," you giggle, nudging his leg with yours. He leans his head against your shoulder, responding with, "You're mean."

"And you're dating me. What does that say about you?"

He lets out a weary laugh, "That I'm just really in love, I guess."

That almost makes you give up on the challenge entirely. You could just let him eat the pepperoni pizza you have saved as the actual meal. But it wouldn't hurt too much to tackle the grand finale. The final boss. Maybe it will even get his taste buds to crack and cross over to the dark side.

"Baby?" Here goes everything.

"Hmm?"

"It's time for the spicy ramen."

He sighs a true sigh of defeat and acceptance. "If I survive this, you have to swear you're never letting me go."

"That's your bargain? Easy, baby."

His blue eyes bore into yours. His cheeks are still red and he's still sniffling from the spice, but his sentiment holds weight. He shrugs, before his arm reaches out for the bowl of ramen, making it known that he has already accepted his fate.

You slide the glass of milk closer to him.

"Try not to get it on your lips as much as possible," you advise him, growing worried as the ramen pack did warn that it was '2x Spicy'.

You cringe inwardly as a forkful of noodles enters his mouth. He drops his arm, chewing slowly, and finally the food gratefully slides down his throat.

"Mmm," he clears his throat, trying his hardest to remain calm. His forced, blank expression is even more alarming than the alternative.

"Ewan?" He turns his head toward you, slowly. And you see the full extent of the damage. His eyes well with tears, and his breathing is shallow from an even more congested nose.

"I'm okay," he wheezes, trying to maintain a show of boldness for your sake. "I can do this."

"You don't look okay." You shake your head at him, as his face takes on an even deeper shade of red.

A pained grunt escapes him. "Maybe a kiss will make it better."

A cursory glace at the ramen sauce staining his lips compels you to protest without a second thought. "How about no? You've got it all over your lips."

"Darling, who cares? You're going to eat them too!" he says, scandalised.

"But I've got a technique. I don't let it touch my lips so it doesn't burn!" You inch away as he leans in.

"So you won't kiss me?" He uses his baby blues against you, eyes bright and shimmering as he pouts in disappointment.

"You don't need a kiss." He tries to grab you, making you stand from your chair to get away. With your palm outstretched, you implore him, "Baby, just drink your milk."

"Then I get a kiss?"

"Fine. Then you get a kiss."

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Tom calls you a few days later, his tone animated from the moment you pick up. "Would you look at that! I didn't think I would get a hold of you lovers. Thought you'd be busy doing somethin' else, if y'know what I mean."

"It's noon here, Tom," you reply matter-of-factly, stretching your legs out on the bed.

"So? I reckon Captain Big Balls over there has got it in him."

"Wow," you let out an amused exhale. Tom always did have a way about him, being a Manc and all. "Well, he's in the shower right now if you wanted to speak to him."

"I'm surprised you're not in there with him, love! You guys are all over the news, bloody hell. Even out here, everyone's buzzin' about the hot new couple from House of the Dragon. And no, it's not Matt and Fabien."

You smirk at his last remark, "Are you sure it's not Matt and Fabs?"

"Positive," he says. "But we never know what could happen. Anyway, how in the hell did you convince him?"

You rack your brain for what exactly he could be pertaining to. "Convince him to do what?"

"To create a bloody Instagram profile, that's what!"

Your mouth falls open, and you quickly put him on speaker so you can scroll to the aforementioned app. Sure enough, it doesn't take long for you to sift through your new follower notifications before you find him.

His username is on brand - straightforward and no-frills - just ewanmitchell . Already verified with a hundred thousand followers and counting. In his following list, however, there is only one - your profile.

If the papparazzi pictures and tabloid stories and fan encounters hadn't convinced everyone yet, likely this will.

Ewan, notorious not only for his charisma and pure talent, but also for being steadfast in staying off social media, has sent the entirety of Ewan Nation into a tailspin with his profile.

Icing on the cake - he only follows you.

"You see, this is what convinces the public that you two are not PR," Tom says. "Because Ewan would never, ever get on the socials for just anyone."

"I didn't even know he made this. I haven't been online in quite a bit."

"Been busy, huh?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Doin' a lot of stuff out there?"

"I guess."

"Like Ewan?"

"Tom, I'm going to lynch you when I see you."

He only laughs, having gotten his desired outcome from prodding at you.

The bathroom door slides open, and Ewan steps out with nothing but a towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist.

"Who's that?" he mouths at you.

"Tom," you answer loudly, prompting Tom to greet Ewan from the speakerphone.

"Aemond the Fierce!" he bellows, the long-distance call doing nothing to stifle his personality. "I always knew you had it in ya. Ever since you laid eyes on her during the table read, I knew it was only a matter of time."

Well, isn't that a revelation. You had thought it was just you harbouring a crush in the beginning. "The table read, really? I just remember being so nervous," you say.

"I thought you were attractive," Ewan admits, scratching the back of his neck. "And you were reading your lines with such passion that I... "

Tom interrupts, "He ran over to me and told me to show him your social media."

"Not just that, I - "

"He wanted to see whether you had any pictures with a boyfriend or something."

"Alright, alright." Ewan snatches the phone from your hand, as if that will keep Tom from exposing him even more. "How are you, mate?"

"I'm good, lad, and yourself?"

Ewan glances at you, seeing that you've gone back to reading a script, your brow furrowed in concentration.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"I'm great. I'm happy."

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"Over here! Over here!"

"How's your evening going, you guys? How are you enjoying LA?"

The papparazzi needlessly try to make small talk and they flash their cameras in your face. You and Ewan barely have time to grimace at each other once you get inside his car. The restaurant where he took you to dinner hadn't been crawling with paps when you arrived. Someone must have tipped them at some point.

Ewan instinctively reaches for your hand when you've driven some distance away from the restaurant, a breath of relief exiting his lungs.

"That's Hollywood for you, baby," he says amusedly, putting on his best standard American accent.

The car speeds through the streets of LA. Heading to Mount Hollywood, you have the famous Griffith Observatory set as your destination.

You have always wanted to go, and it only took one mention to Ewan before he planned it for your next date.

It doesn't take long before the observatory's iconic structure comes into view. Its white domes seemingly gleam under the night sky, a sentinel watching over the city of Los Angeles.

Stepping out of the car, you take in the scene in awe. The resulting look on your face lets Ewan know he made the right choice in taking you here. He'd take you here everyday if it meant seeing you in a spell of childlike wonder.

The observatory itself is just a bonus.

The outer balcony stretches like a vertice into the vastness of the city, a sea of lights glistening down below. It seemed to sprawl on endlessly, a labyrinth of hopes and pains and dreams.

You stand there, drawn to the view like a moth to a flame. The evening breeze dances through your hair, and your face is aglow from the illuminated city.

Smiling widely, you turn and find Ewan lingering just behind, watching you.

"Come and look at this, my love," you wave him over.

He wants to capture the moment, so he does. He subtly points his camera in your direction. Your profile is partially visible, with your face turned out into the horizon. Your silhouette stands before a mosaic of the shining city.

But it's you that has his attention. You that pulls all of his focus into the frame.

He never thought he would have much use for a public social media profile like the one he created on Instagram, but hours later, as you're sound asleep beside him, he finds purpose for such a thing.

He uploads the first ever photo on his profile - the one he secretly took of you at the observatory.

Too conscious to think of a caption, he doesn't type in any, content to let the photo speak for itself.

Putting his phone away, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead and falls into blissful slumber.

Ewan hadn't been aware of the phrase breaking the internet, and he's in for quite the rude awakening.

Even so, he doesn't let it faze him.

You're in shock when you discover the amount of comments under the photo, well past the twelve thousand mark when you wake up. Positive, negative, and everything in between.

Almost unheard of for an Instagram debut.

His reaction?

"At least everyone knows that you're mine now. What's wrong with that?"

You can vote here on the reader's hotd character name!

Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @hotdismylife @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @dracaryxzs @aemondwhoresworld @aisselasstuff @onlyrealjoy (continued in comments)

The sad, angsty bits will be saved for the next proper chapter! What happens to Ewan's Instagram then? What happens to him?? 🥲💔

I was going to include the double date idea, but alas, my ideas ran dry.

I've got nothing but love for all of you that have followed this story to this point! If you've got scene requests, just let me know!

[misswynters]

Toxic Devotion

Jacaerys Velaryon x gn!reader

[warning: toxic relationship, yandere behavior, implied non-con touching, murder

[synopsis: You will do anything to protect jace and so does he. Getting rid of anyone who even looks at you wrong. It should be easy, right?

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

The torches flickered along the walls of the narrow corridor, casting eerie shadows as you moved with purpose. Your blood was still boiling from the encounter, the venomous words of the your once handmaiden echoing in your mind.

"Bastard prince," she had hissed, her eyes filled with contempt. "Not fit to sit the throne, not fit to touch such noble blood like you."

Rage had surged within you, swift and deadly. Without a second thought, you had grabbed the nearest sharp object, a ceremonial dagger, and silenced her vile tongue forever. Now, as you made your way back to your chambers, the weight of your actions settled over you like a shroud, but you felt no remorse. You had done it for Jacaerys, and that was all that mattered. Nothing was more important to you than protecting his beautiful self from any harm. Pushing open the heavy door to your quarters, you were met with a sight that sent a cold shock through your veins.

Jacaerys stood over the lifeless body of your kingsguard, blood dripping from the blade in his hand. Your eyes widened, and you took a step back, but Jacaerys's gaze was fixed on you, a mix of protectiveness and ferocity in his eyes.

"He touched you," Jacaerys said, his voice low and dangerous. He was glaring at the body with disgust. "He had no right."

You looked down at the body, remembering how you had woken earlier to find the kingsguard in your bed, clearly drunk, his intentions unclear. You had been too disoriented to react, but Jacaerys had come in just moments later, his rage instant and deadly.

"He was in my bed when I woke," you whispered, the horror of the situation sinking in. "I didn't-"

"I know," Jacaerys interrupted, stepping closer to you. "I know you didn't invite him. But he dared to overstep, and he paid the price.”

You met his gaze, the intensity of his emotions matching your own. "I killed the handmaiden," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "She called you a bastard, said terrible things about you."

A dark smile twisted Jacaerys's lips, and he reached out to cup your face in his bloodstained hand. "You did it for me," he said softly, his eyes gleaming with a twisted kind of pride. "Just as I did this for you."

The silence between you was heavy with the weight of your actions, but it was also charged with a dangerous kind of devotion. In that moment, you both understood that your love was a double-edged sword, cutting down anyone who dared to come between you.

"We're bound together," Jacaerys murmured, his thumb tracing your cheek. "By blood, fire, and death. No one can tear us apart."

You nodded, leaning into his touch, feeling a strange sense of solace in his words. "No one," you echoed. As Jacaerys pulled you into his embrace, you knew that your love was as destructive as it was passionate. But in this world of treachery and betrayal, it was the only thing you could trust. And so, with bodies lying in your wake and blood staining your hands, you clung to each other, bound by a love that was both your salvation and your damnation.

The storm raged outside, lightning illuminating the dark skies over Dragonstone. Inside your chambers, the atmosphere was equally charged. You and Jacaerys lay in bed, the events of the day replaying in your minds. His arm was draped possessively over your waist, his breath warm against your neck.

"I can still see the look in her eyes," you murmured, staring at the ceiling. "The fear, the hatred. It felt...satisfying to silence her."

Jacaerys tightened his hold on you, his voice a low growl. "They all think they can judge us. They don't understand what we have, the lengths we'll go to for each other."

You turned to face him, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. "They will learn. Anyone who dares to come between us will meet the same fate."

He captured your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "We are unstoppable, my love. Together, we will claim what is rightfully ours." The fire in his eyes mirrored your own, a shared madness that fueled your ambition. "Tomorrow, we must deal with the aftermath," you said, a hint of worry creeping into your voice. "Questions will be asked."

Jacaerys's expression hardened. "Let them ask. We'll have our answers ready. We protect each other, always."

A scream could be heard from a distance, another handmaiden must’ve founded the poor girl lying on your bed, lifeless. The sound of footsteps in the hallway made you both tense. Jacaerys sprang from the bed, moving silently to the door, his sword in hand. You followed, your heart pounding. A knock echoed through the room, and Jacaerys opened the door a fraction, revealing your most trusted servant.

"My lord, my lady," he whispered urgently. "The bodies have been discovered. The court is in an uproar." The servant was shaken up, nervously fidgeting his fingers. In fear of doing anything wrong and that also lead to his untimely demise.

Jacaerys glanced back at you, his eyes cold and calculating. "Well, i guess we don’t have much of a choice now do we."

You nodded, steeling yourself. "Let's face them, it can’t be that bad." You walked towards him reaching towards his hand, your eyes softly looking towards his, which were the opposite. Darker than they usually are.

Hand in hand, you stepped into the corridor, ready to confront whatever awaited you. The court might rage and whisper, but you and Jacaerys were a force of nature, bound by a love that was as fierce as it was toxic. And nothing, not even death, would come between you.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood

[novaursa]

hi!! may i request a rhaenyra x celtigar!male!reader where his father is apart of her black council and he is his family’s heir. after ser steffon’s death of trying to claim seasmoke, she recruits the reader, knowing the celtigars are also of Valyrian descent despite never claiming dragons. lord celtigar is completely against the idea (rightfully so) but is pressured by rhaenyra and ultimately complies. the reader surprising enough does claim seasmoke which bewilders and terrifies rhaenyra of rhe possibility of betrayal. however she’s reminded that reader and her were once good friends when they were young and often joked that they would one day be married. it doesn’t happen but they both reminisce about it bitterly how different they feel about adulthood. honestly this can seen as platonic or romantic either way!! its up to you :D

The Claim of Fire

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Rhaenyra asks of you the impossible. You prove everybody wrong.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @literaturedog

The hall is low lit as your father, Lord Celtigar, stands beside you, his hands clasped in a futile attempt to keep his voice steady. Across the table, Rhaenyra Targaryen, your queen, sits with her chin resting lightly on her hand. Her eyes are sharp, assessing—knowing the weight of her request, yet unflinching.

"This is madness, my queen," your father begins, his voice taut with a mixture of outrage and pleading. "The Celtigars have never claimed a dragon, and with good reason. To send my son—our only heir—into such a perilous task after what befell Ser Steffon..."

Rhaenyra’s expression softens, though only slightly. “I do not make this request lightly, Lord Celtigar. But I need men of Valyrian blood to claim the dragons that remain. The war is upon us, and without more riders, we are at a disadvantage.”

You glance at your father, who shakes his head almost imperceptibly, but Rhaenyra’s eyes are fixed on you now. She knows what’s at stake. She knows that while your family has never claimed a dragon, you carry the same ancient blood of Old Valyria as she does. Her gaze holds yours, as if willing you to accept the burden she places upon you.

You take a breath. “Why me?” The question hangs in the air between you. “Why not another of Valyrian blood?”

Rhaenyra hesitates for only a moment, and when she speaks, her voice is quieter, almost… familiar. “Because I trust you, Y/N.” There’s a pause, and her eyes soften, recalling something distant, something shared between you long ago. “We grew up together. Do you remember? We used to jest that one day you would marry me and sit the Iron Throne at my side.”

A faint smile flickers at the corner of her lips, but it’s bitter. You remember it too—the games of childhood, when politics and war were nothing more than stories whispered by older men, and you and Rhaenyra were free to imagine a different world. But now, everything is different. The woman who sits before you is not the girl you once knew. She is a queen, weighed down by betrayal, grief, and ambition.

“Yes,” you murmur, “but that was before.”

Rhaenyra nods, her smile fading. “Much has changed.”

Your father clears his throat, pulling you both back into the present. “My queen, this task… it will kill him.”

But Rhaenyra shakes her head. “It may save us all.”

The room falls silent. Your heart pounds in your chest as you consider the weight of her words. Claiming Seasmoke would be no small feat. Ser Steffon had tried, and his charred remains had been enough to dissuade others. But Rhaenyra’s desperation is palpable. She doesn’t ask for things she doesn’t believe are possible.

And some part of you—the part that longs for something greater, that ancient Valyrian fire stirring within your veins—wants to believe her.

“I will do it,” you say, your voice firm, surprising even yourself. Your father turns to you, his face twisted in anger and fear.

“Y/N���”

But Rhaenyra cuts him off. “Thank you,” she says softly, rising from her seat. ��You will not regret this.”

The next morning, you stand before Seasmoke, the great dragon perched on the edge of the cliffs. His pale silver scales glimmer in the early morning light, and his eyes—those burning, intelligent eyes—lock with yours. The air feels thick with heaviness of the moment as the beast watches you approach, his nostrils flaring with each breath.

You can hear the whispers of those gathered behind you, soldiers and lords alike. Most are placing bets, some on whether you will die like Ser Steffon, others on whether a Celtigar has any hope of bonding with a dragon at all.

But Rhaenyra watches in silence, her face unreadable. Does she fear that you will succeed? That claiming Seasmoke will give you a power that could rival her own? Or is she simply afraid of losing an old friend, someone who once meant more to her than most would ever know?

The dragon’s breath rumbles in its throat, and for a moment, fear grips you. But then something shifts within you—an ancient stirring of your bloodline, something primal and fierce. You step forward, your voice steady as you utter the ancient Valyrian words that have bound dragons to men for centuries.

“Dohaeras.”

Seasmoke’s eyes narrow, and for a long moment, nothing happens. You can feel your pulse pounding in your ears, the weight of hundreds of eyes on your back.

Then, with a sound that is half growl, half sigh, Seasmoke lowers his head.

Rhaenyra stands before you now, her expression a mixture of shock and… something else. Her lips part as if to say something, but the words don’t come.

“I did not think you would succeed,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “You… you were always different, Y/N. Even as children.”

You watch her, noting the way her eyes avoid yours, lingering instead on the dragon in the distance. “I didn’t think I would either,” you say with a small, bitter laugh. “But I suppose things have a way of changing, don’t they?”

Her gaze finally meets yours, and for the first time in what feels like an age, you see the girl you once knew. The one who laughed with you in the gardens of Dragonstone, who dreamed of a life without the burdens of duty and war.

But that girl is gone, and in her place stands a queen who has seen too much, lost too much. And you… you are no longer the boy who joked about marrying her.

[aerynwrites]

Make is Right

Gale x Dark Urge!Reader

A/N: Had this idea come to me when @thedreamlessnights told me that Gale yelled at their dark urge after talking to Gortash in Baldur’s Gate. Hope y’all enjoy the angst and fluff that follows.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR BG3. Spoilers for dark urge plot specifically. Angst, emotional Hurt/Comfort, major character death, resurrection, fluff, happy ending.

You’ve been in a spiral ever since the Nautiloid crashed, your mind a jumble of blankness and confusing violent urges you can’t hope to control. Your sleep plagued with terrible dreams and that infuriating butler. Urges that have made you do terrible things and almost make you do worse. 

But now…now it feels as if everything has come crashing down around you. You’d hoped coming to Baldur’s Gate would give you answers to your past, hopefully bring to light memories that are still lost to you. 

You never expected it to be worse than you thought. 

You never expected to be on the receiving end of Lord Gortash’s cunning smile as he greets his favorite assassin. You didn’t think learning of your past would make your heart drop to your stomach. 

But as you stand here, in this grand throne room and listen as Gortash tells you of your bloody past…you feel bile rise in your throat. 

You watch numbly as Duke Ravengard crowns Gortash as the archduke of Baldur’s Gate, acutely aware of how your companions shift uneasily behind you. You accept begrudgingly when Gortash offers you an alliance, that sickening smile tugging at his lips as he steps closer to you. 

“I tolerate Orin,” he tells you, a strange fondness in his eyes that makes your stomach roll. “But I liked you.” 

He waves his hand dismissively. “Go get the stone. And don’t come back until you have it in hand.”

You obey his command, not because you want to listen to him, but because you want to get as far away from here as possible. Your feet carry you faster than you expect, and soon you’re out of the oppressive building that is Wyrm’s Crossing making your way across the bridge. 

It’s only then that any feeling comes back to you at all, and you’re acutely aware of piercing gaze burning into your back. You stop in your tracks, turning to see Gale as the source. 

The look he gives you…The man who you’ve come to love and who you thought felt the same…His eyes are full of nothing but betrayal and anger. 

You reach out to him, fear gripping your heart like you’ve never felt before. “Gale, what-?” 

He recoils from you, lips turned down wards. “Don’t.” He says, the one word coming out harsher than you anticipate, making you retreat into yourself as he continues. “The absolute, the tadpoles…it was because of you?” 

That last word is said with such venom it makes your heart fracture in your chest. You’ve never been on the receiving end of such vitriol, at least not from him, and it makes tears burn at the back of your eyes. 

“Gale, please…I didn’t even know-“ 

He cuts you off with a raised hand, eyes falling shut as he turns his head away from you, as if it pains him to even hear your voice. 

“I think you’ve said and done more than enough,” he lowers his hand to a fist at his side, still not looking at you. “Leave me be.” 

He offers nothing else as he brushes past you, walking back towards camp with a rigid set to his shoulders. You feel your lower lip wobble, and out of instinct look back to your other companions for guidance, hoping for anything other than hatred. 

You at least get that much. Not even Karlach will look right at you, her hands clenching at her sides as she too walks past, uttering something about catching up with Gale. Astarion offers one of his humorous quips, but even that does nothing to help. 

Only Shadowheart seems truly sorry, her eyes meeting yours in a knowing way. You suppose she’s the only one who understands being a slave to your blank past and eventually finding out the brutal truth. 

But even her…you can see the thin set of her lips, and you know. You know on some level she blames you too. 

And as they all leave one after the other, you’re left alone on the wooden bridge, the wind whistling around you, and your mind still infuriatingly blank. 

————

No one approaches you at camp that evening, all of them being pleasant enough but losing that usual camaraderie that typically fills the air. 

It’s only after dinner has been served and eaten that you move to seek out your partner, your bowl of stew left untouched by your spot at the fire. 

Gale is in front of his tent, deep in one of his books as he usually is. Normally the sight would bring a smile to your face, but now as you approach, nothing but dread settles in your stomach. 

The man doesn’t even acknowledge you as you walk up, eyes never leaving the pages of his book as you stand in front of him, shifting nervously in your feet. 

“Can we talk?” you finally ask, voice soft in the night air. 

Not looking up from his reading, Gale turns a page as he answers, “I don’t see what there is to talk about.” 

You bite your lip, trying to keep the tears welling up at bay. 

“You know what.”

Gale scoffs, finally closing his book with a resounding snap as he finally looks at you. His eyes are ablaze with anger but deep below the surface you can sense a sadness. He feels betrayed. 

“Oh yes,” he says, “I suppose we do need to address the fact that you are the reason we are all in this bloody predicament. Where would you like to start?” He asks cruelly. “The fact that you’re actually a bloodthirsty assassin set on fulfilling your fathers diabolical wishes? Or should we discuss the tiny detail that you were seemingly cozy with none other than Enver Gortash?” 

Frustration bubbles up in you then, and finally the tears spill over - hurt and anger and utter confusion proving too much for you to handle. 

“You act like that person is me!” You cry, wavering. “Like I haven’t proven again and again since I’ve met you that I’m not…that. I don’t want to be that person anymore I don’t…I can’t be.”

Gale says nothing, so you continue. “I can’t control who I was but until today I didn’t even know that was my past but I -“ you choke on a sob, wiping furiously at the tears streaming down your cheeks. “We’ve done so much good. That has to count for something.” 

You watch as Gale softens ever so slightly, but it’s so slight that if you didn’t know him as well as you do, you would have missed it. 

He sighs, eyes clenching shut as he turns his face from you again. “Sometimes…Sometimes our past is not something we can separate ourselves from.” He says simply, hands falling limply by his side. “I…I need time to think. I think it’s best if you go.” 

His words feel like a stake to your heart, the pain radiating out to your fingertips and making your knees weak. 

You want to scream. You want to fall on your knees and beg for him to understand, for him to not push you away. But you know it would do no good. So instead, you only nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as you retreat to your bedroll by the fire. 

You avoid the sideways stares the others give you, no doubt having heard your fight with Gale. 

The bedroll is cold beneath you, even the fire doing nothing to warm the icy hurt seeping through your veins. Minutes tick by into hours and soon everyone retires to bed. 

But you remain awake. 

Astarion and Karlach lay on the other bedrolls near you - but the one across the fire is achingly empty. 

As the night draws on and the flames of the fire dwindle to nothing but smoldering embers, your mind runs endlessly. 

You try fruitlessly to counjure up memories of your past, the past Gortash laid out for you. But there’s nothing. Nothing but blankness and and cloud of black anger bubbling in your chest. 

Orin. 

She’s the only thing that keeps fighting it’s way to the forefront of your mind. Since you’ve been in the city she’s already made it clear she’s watching you, and after what was revealed to you, you know why. 

She did this to you. 

She created this vast expanse of emptiness within you. Made you forget your past and took your place as Bhaals chosen, but maybe…

It was for the better. You know this, and silently you thank her for doing it. For orchestrating your fall from grace so to speak. Because now…now you’re someone else, someone better. 

All at once an idea forms in your mind. One that would hopefully solve all your problems. 

Orin took your place when she got rid of you…what if you could do the same. But instead of taking her place when she falls…you can deny your father his chosen. 

You’ll have two of the stones, Orin out of the way and one step closer to righting the wrongs you’ve unknowingly created. 

You’re on your feet before you can overthink it. You enter your tent and don your armor and weapons in a mindless haze, only when you exit your tent do you pause, your eyes trailing over to the familiar blue tent across camp. 

You approach quietly, not wanting to wake the sleeping body inside, and you carefully peel back the tent flap. Gale rests on his side, face lax with sleep as his chest rises and falls slowly. 

For a moment you’re struck with a pang of fear. What if this venture ends in your death? What if you never see the man you love again? 

These thoughts run through your head as you gaze softly at your sleeping lover, and before you can let the fear control you, you lean in and press a featherlight kiss to his cheek. 

He barely stirs, eyes fluttering lightly before he settles once more. You smile sadly before reaching into your pocket, your fingers wrapping around the cool red stone before you pull it out. 

You place the netherstone beside his pillow where he’ll be sure to see it. If this does go sideways…they can still continue the mission. 

You stand, giving one last glance at Gale before you let the tent flap fall shut and turn to go face your past head on. 

———

Orins arrogance is her downfall, just as you hoped it would be. 

She could have easily overpowered you. Taken advantage of your worn down state from trying to find the temple. She could have used the handful of cultists around her to aid in her battle against you. 

But she was arrogant, bloodthirsty, and ready to end what she had started. 

That had been her mistake. 

The fight was not easy, there were moments where you thought you would fall, a few injuries too close to fatal for you to be too haughty in your victory. 

But as she lay, broken and bloodied at your feet, you can’t help but be acutely aware of the vast emptiness still yawing within you. 

You thought killing Orin would make you feel something. Maybe a sick sense of satisfaction, or possibly even trigger some memories of what she did to you or what you’ve done. 

But there’s…nothing. There’s nothing but the sound of your own breath as it bubbles wetly in your chest. 

Somethings wrong, you’re injured worse than you’ve ever been before but at this moment you can’t find it in you to care. 

Will this be enough? 

Will Gale forgive you for your wrongs? Or, when you return to camp with the second netherstone, will it just prove that he was right? That you can’t in fact separate yourself from your bloody past. 

That you’ll never be more than the spawn of Bhaal, created to do one thing only. 

Will you ever truly be free? 

Your answer comes in a wave of telekinetic pain, washing over your mind and nearly bringing you to your knees as a voice speaks through you. 

There’s a tinge of familiarity as it speaks, and it’s only then you realize who is speaking. 

Bhaal. 

The god of murder. Your father. The thing that made you who you were - who you are. 

You stand there, that pain slowly ebbing away as he offers you greatness. Offers you the title as his chosen once more and showers you with false praises. 

You feel that all too familiar urge tug violently at your mind, begging - screaming at you to accept your rightful place. 

You almost give in, your despair and emptiness almost winning out. But then…then you remember the way Gale looked at you, the way they all looked at you. With pain and fear and betrayal in their eyes. 

And suddenly the emptiness is gone. The vast yawning cavern of blackness in your mind no longer feels like a burden. You may not remember who you were but…You aren’t them anymore. You’re someone new. Someone kind and loving and caring. You’re someone who laughs around the campfire at Karlach’s jokes and teases Astarion about his always perfect hair. 

But more than that…You’re someone who’s known love. 

Gales face flickers before your mind then, that kind small smile when you ask him about his magic. The way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. The way his hands feel against your skin as he holds you, or the way he stayed with you as you fought your urges. 

Your mind isn’t empty. It’s so full. Just as your heart is. Full of love and hope and brightness despite the urges that tempt you everyday. 

You’re not his anymore. 

You reject his gift as powerfully as you can muster and you feel the way his power reels back in anger and hatred. 

How dare you refuse me!

His voice rages in your mind just as you feel the tendrils of pain seep into your bones. 

Your name echoes off the cavernous temple walls, and through the pain and the voice screaming in your head it takes you longer than usual to realize where it’s coming from. 

You turn to see your companions, your friends, rushing towards you from the entrance of the temple, shouts of your name and other jumbled words greet your ears. 

But then you see Gale. 

His eyes filled with worry and regret, reaching for you, fingers outstretched towards your quaking form. 

They’re closer now, each step bringing them closer and closer to your bleeding body. You reach out your own hand, limbs quaking with effort against the ever crushing weight consuming you. 

Your fingers just barley brush Gale’s, his eyes glossing with relief. 

But it’s too late. 

His hand slips into your own as Bhaal strikes you down. 

Bones cracking, sinew snapping, and blood rushing out of you as darkness swallows you whole. The last thing you remember as death surrounds you, is the pain in your throat as you cry out Gale’s name. 

————

It feels like mere moments after the pain and darkness that light erupts around you. 

Warm tendrils of light wrap around the emptiness that was your life and soul forming you once more back onto the mortal plane. It blinds you, making you unable to see what happens until you materialize and your boots hit solid ground, your knees buckling beneath you. 

But instead of meeting the cold hard floor beneath you, warm arms catch you as you fall, your body falling against a much sturdier one. 

Your mind is muddled as your sense come back to you, a multitude of faces swimming before you. You see Karlach and Halsin hovering off to the side with Shadowheart. Even Astarion’s face swims with worry. 

But what catches your attention most is the familiar face of your lover right above you, tears clinging to his lashes. 

Tears?

You’ve never seen Gale cry, never seen him so much as sniffle or whimper. But now…

Small, warm tears drip onto your cheeks as he leans down to press his forehead against your own, his arms crushing you to his chest so fiercely you nearly can’t breathe. 

“Thank the gods-“ he chokes on a sob, “you’re alive. You’re alive. I…” he pulls away from you then, reaching a hand up to wipe the moisture from your skin. “I watched you die and all I could think about was what a fool I’d been - how unfair and cruel I was to you.” 

You shake your head, bringing a hand up cradle his cheek, wiping at the tears there as you furrow your brow. 

“What happened?” 

Gale opens his mouth to speak, but another raspy echoing voice answers. You turn your head just enough to see Withers standing a few paces away. 

“Bhaal tried to extinguish thee, but his wrath is imprecise. He only succeeded in killing the part of thee he knew,” the being says plainly, voice lacking any emotion. “The Urge that drove thee to terrible acts. The spark of brutality that made thee his. But there is a new part of thee that has grown during thy travels.” You swear you see the bag of bones smile. “That part Bhaal could not extinguish. And so, instead of destroying thee, he hath made thee anew.” 

He continues. “The heart of a savior hath overshadowed the mind of a murderer” he clenches a fist triumphantly. “Thou hast vanquished thy Urge.” 

It's then, when his words truly settle in that you sense it - or, don’t sense it. 

There’s…nothing. No primal bloodlust, no violent tug at the edge of your mind. 

It’s gone. 

Hope swells in your chest as you look back to Gale, eyes swimming with tears of your own now. 

“He’s right I - I can’t feel it. The urge. I think it’s gone, for good this time.” 

Gale shakes his head, pulling you ever closer as his lips fall to your cheek. “I don’t care,” he says firmly, causing momentary panic to tug at your heart. 

But Gale is quick to sooth, pulling away to look into your eyes. “I only mean that I do not care if your urges are with you or not. I would love you all the same and I-“ he closes his eyes, shoulders tense with regret. “I was a fool for making you think I felt otherwise. You stuck by me even when I didn’t deserve it and I…I did not give you the same respect or care.” 

His voice is soft and broken as he speaks, eyes opening again. “I love you, more than than even my goddess, more than the stars that litter the night skies and I - I can only beg for your forgiveness, though I would not begrudge you for holding it from me.” 

As his words sink in, you faintly recognize that the others have retreated quietly, even Withers has taken his leave, allowing you and Gale a moment of privacy. 

Slowly you move so you are kneeling before Gale who mirrors your position, his arms still wrapped around you. You bring your hands up to cradle his cheeks, thumbs brushing back and forth slowly. 

“I love you too,” you tell him, eyes watering with tears once more. “That’s why I…I wanted to make things right - prove that I wasn’t that person anymore.” 

“But you have!” Gale says, voice striken with grief. “Time and time again you showed us who you truly are, proved that the urges you felt were against your will and yet I still-“ he laughs bitterly, “I still let the revelation of your past cloud who I know you truly are. I was cruel. And there is no excuse for the harsh words I uttered. I only hope to show you the error of my ways, no matter how long it takes.” 

You smile at him - your lover, your partner, the only person you want to spend your future with - and kiss him. 

You pour all of your love and desperate aching need for him into that one action, heart swelling with warmth as he responds in kind. 

You only part when you need air, moving to rest your head against his own, your breathes mingling together. 

“There’s nothing to forgive, my love,” you whisper. “Just stay by my side until the end as I will you.” 

Gale smiles, arms wrapping tighter around your waist.

 “I would love nothing more.” 

[frudoo]

Bells Ring (2)

Title: Bells Ring

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm (scratching), blood. One slap. Ewan is a warning of his own lmao.

MDNI

You’ve never succumbed to torture, but you can only imagine it hurts about as much as watching Ewan devour his overcooked steak without a care in the world, as if you haven’t just discovered that he has done the worst thing a spouse could do to you, his wife. It is pure agony being the only one to know of his affair. You’re not even sure if he’s noticed your lack of appetite or the pain in your expression. You’re not sure any of them have.

The prongs of your fork scrape against the fine china plate with a piercing screech, and three sets of curious eyes fall upon your flinching figure. You feel about as small as a junebug and just as inferior. The small grin you had seen on your husband’s face while he ate disappears when he looks at you, replaced by an annoyed downturn of his lips.

“Ye wuid be wise tae mind yer manners,” Ewan hisses, cold eyes narrowing at you before returning to the meal in front of him.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” you whisper, biting your lip to hold back the tears that threaten to spill from your red-tinged eyes.

“Wha’s gotten intae ye anywey?” Your husband questions, and you stiffen, the room suddenly suffocating, making you gasp for precious breath as your silverware drops onto the table with a clang.

“A-apologies, may I… I should like to cool down in my chambers,” you ramble, quickly standing from your chair and nearly tripping yourself in the process.

Ewan’s booming, irritated voice follows behind you as you rush through the halls, but you ignore him, desiring nothing more than to curl up beneath your duvet and cry your shriveled little heart out. Unfortunately you were not quick enough. Your husband slams his hand down on your shoulder and spins you so that you’re facing him, his dark eyebrows pinched together and pupils so shrunken you’d think he was about to berate a naughty dog. Perhaps that is how he sees you and precisely what he plans to do.

“Ye listen t’me,” you can feel the hot puffs of air escaping his nose like an irate dragon breathing fire, and fleetingly you wonder if the princesses locked up in those towers far, far away were not quite so miserable.

Despite his crystal clear demands, your mind does not process a single word your husband is saying, even as he presses your back against the wall and traps you in—funny, that very gesture used to make giddy heat blossom in your lower belly, and now it just makes your head pound with irritation and despair. You see his stubbled mouth moving and distantly recognize them as words you’re familiar with, but it’s as if no sound makes it to your ears.

“I read your letter,” you blurt out, causing Ewan to stop in the middle of his lecture.

A kaleidoscope of emotions twist in his oceanic eyes before settling on a devastating display of fear and rapidly heightening anger. Your husband scoffs, stepping back to cross his arms like a petulant child told they cannot open their Christmas present early. He’s utterly speechless, and perhaps you shouldn’t say anything more, but slippery words spill from your mouth before you can gather the sense to stop them on your tongue.

“I know it was not my place-”

“Ye’re reit, it wasnae yers tae-”

“Your Highness, please, just allow me to explain,” your bottom lip puckers as you reach out to place your hands on his chest, but he jerks away from your touch with a grimace. “I know it was not my place to read something of yours, but the fragrance on it was one I did not recognize. At first, I believed it may have been a relative of yours I was not made aware of, but that is not true, is it?”

Ewan’s gaze falls to the floor beneath his feet, but no effort to speak is made. His silence tugs at your heartstrings, and for once, it is not grief you feel but anger. Betrayal.

“Who is Coralie?” You question, pushing your foot between his to startle him into meeting your eyes once again. “As your wife, you owe me that.”

Still, no sound makes itself known from his traitorous lips, and it is enough to prove your suspicions as though the evidence had not already revealed itself to you. When you turn on your heels to continue the journey to your chambers, he does not dare follow you. There is no need to glance over your shoulder to know that he is still stood in place with that same dreadful expression on his face.

Your hands are shaking when you sit at the edge of your bed. Your nerves feel like they have been set ablaze, sharp pinpricks dancing across your skin viciously. Your senses are overwhelmed, your head is pounding, and the tremors swimming through you are the breaking point. A raspy scream rises from your throat, ricocheting off of the walls and startling the maids as well as yourself. You try to claw the pain away, digging your nails into your skin and scraping as hard as you can until blood cakes beneath the keratin.

An infinite amount of hands come rushing toward you from all over the palace, holding you down or giving you something to drink so that you can relax. The taste of honey and tart cherries runs down your aching throat before your body finally exhausts itself and you cannot fight them off any longer. In your chambers remain the nurse and a couple of laundresses who could not bear to leave you in this state.

The elixir you’d been given must have finally worked its way into your body, as sleep comes easy for you while the nurse cleans your wounds and bandages you up. She ties off the last tourniquet expertly, patting your hand fondly before pulling away to look you over. You are at peace in your sleep, no thoughts of your husband’s adultery making their way into your dreams, no fits stirring you from your slumber. It is the best sleep you have had in months.

Ewan is not quite so lucky, nervously shifting on both feet in the presence of his father. King MacTavish looks ready to have his head served up on a silver platter, his knuckles white from how tightly they grip his chair. Before your husband gets the chance to speak, his father inhales deeply, gruff voice rumbling lowly.

“Ah’ve tolerated this… quarrel ‘tween ye and yer wife fer long enough, now, but the state she is in—the state ye put ‘er in—is shameful,” John frowns, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wha’ were yer vows tae yer wife?”

“Da, ah dinnae understand-” John interrupts the baffled younger man, raising his large hand with a flick of his wrist.

“Mus’ ah repeat such a simple question? Answer me, no’ as yer father, bu’ as yer king.”

“Tae have an’ tae hold, fer better fer worse, fer richer fer poorer, in sickness an’ in health, tae love and tae cherish, till death do us part,” Ewan sighs, head lifted slightly to look at his father for approval.

“Continue,” John raises an eyebrow, displeased with the pathetic look on the prince’s face.

Ewan sucks in a deep breath through his nose, biting the side of his tongue to avoid raising his voice to the older man the way he so desperately desires to. Even upset, he knows better.

“Wit’ this ring ah thee wed, wit’ mah body ah thee worship, an’ wit’ all mah worldly goods ah thee endow, in the name of the Father, an’ of the Son, an’ of the Holy Ghost.”

“Ye made those vows ‘fore God, aye?” The king questions, fingertips tapping along the armrests of his seat.

“Aye, sir,” your husband nods, eyes darting all around the room nervously.

“Then why is yer wife bed-bound wit’ only the nurse tae keep ‘er company?” The king frowns. “Did she no’ make the same vows? Was she no’ there fer ye when ye fell ill some time ago?”

“Aye, she was, bu’... Father, we are no’...” Ewan hesitates, pulling at the hangnails adorning his fingertips.

“Speak, boy. Ah ken there is somethin’ ye’re keepin’ from me.”

“Ah’ve fallen fer another,” Ewan mutters, and the room falls silent—if someone were to drop a quill, the sound would resonate throughout the entire area.

“Pardon?” John speaks after an uncomfortable amount of quiet, his ordinarily blue eyes nearly black with emotion.

“When ah wen’ tae Paris, ah met a lass, an’... we fell in love.”

The king shuts his eyes and nods shortly, rising to his feet and slowly approaching his son. The prince flinches when John gets close, and rightfully so—he does not hesitate to slap the younger man’s cheek with the back of his hand, hard enough to leave red marks on both of them. Shocked, Ewan grabs his affected cheek and looks at his father with perched eyebrows and a hurt pout on his lips.

“Father-”

“Ye are nae son o’mine,” John spits, jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth grind, the dull ache overlooked in the midst of his rage. “Return tae yer chambers. Ah dinnae wish tae see ye a moment longer.”

Now playing the part of the kicked dog, Ewan follows orders and sits at the edge of his bed, seething.

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule IV

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: tysm for the overwhelming support you give to this story!! Ily all 💕

Masterlist, Latibule III

“You’re a veterinarian?” he asked in apparent disgust, his hand covering his mouth. He was looking at you with betrayal in his eyes as though you did the most heinous thing to him.

Seriously, a veterinarian? A veterinarian saved him? All along he thought you were a someone from a medical field. A human medical field.

You rolled your eyes before picking up the dog that had been cowering in fear when he stepped in the clinic uninvited. Really, it was unprompted. You didn’t know how he knew where you worked or why he was here. All you knew was that his presence was not only distracting, but it was also unwarranted. Also, what was it with him that even known predators were shaking with trepidation? Suga was all bark and no bite, you thought to yourself.

And the way he was acting was over-the-top. You bumped his shoulder as you went out of the room. “What are you doing here, my dearest and largest inconvenience in life?”

Suga followed you in your office after you handed the dog to the assistant. He of course had he audacity to plop himself down on your swivel chair as if he belonged there. You really had no energy left to deal with him. You had too much on your plate and you hadn’t really been sleeping well lately.

He looked around your office with a mask of indifference, taking in every nook and cranny. He eyed the framed photographs you had on your table, noting that the couple holding you must have been your parents. You were smiling at the camera, clutching your diploma and a bouquet of roses in your hands as your parents stood proudly beside you with their arms around you. You were smiling so wide at the camera that he subconsciously smiled. You looked good happy.

He wondered what made you so sad now.

His mind was still desperately attempting to figure out the mystery that you were. You were still young. He thought that you should be out there instead of holed up in this quiet town. You should be out there enjoying your nights instead of looking at the same damn sky every night, gazing at the stars as though it would be the last time you looked at them. It had been a while now since he entered into your life bloodied and bruised. Aside from knowing that you were an annoyingly kind person who had no qualms about putting him in his place, he knew nothing about you. You went straight home from work, as far as he knew you didn’t talk to your family, and you loved mornings and looking at the night sky.

You were a glaring conundrum, and he couldn’t separate the detective in him. He wanted to stop at nothing until he discovered every untold verity about you. Additionally, did he really want to know? Would it be the smartest thing to do?

Would he survive knowing everything?

“I was bored,” he answered with an air of nonchalance, “your house does not really provide entertainment, you know?”

You glared at him as you leaned your hands on your table, “Then leave.”

He was shaking his head slowly, “I can’t yet. You’re stuck with me until the foreseeable future.” Suga looked at the numerous frames again taking space on your desk. He couldn’t stop looking at them, his kind itching with the familiarity of who he presumed as your parents. “Seriously, angel, would you forget what they look like if you don’t have five frames on your table?”

A flash of sorrow crossed your eyes for a second before hiding it with annoyance. You marched to him, pulling him up by his thick wrists with all your might, to which he didn’t even move an inch. He was looking at you with raised brow as though in confusion to what you were trying to do. “Get up. If you’re so bored, go and look for a job. For heaven’s sake, it’s like feeding three people at the same time! Fifty percent of my salary goes to your food!”

“I’m a growing man, angel! I need to eat more-“

“You’re old! You stopped growing eons ago!”

He expertly removed your grip on him. He pulled you closer to him, his seated position still towering over you as he brought you closer to his face. His voice was deep…and enticing. “I’ll have you know that I’m only thirty-“

“No way!” you exclaimed exaggeratedly, putting your hands on his chest to stop you from completely crashing to him. “Then why don’t you act like it?”

Suga smirked. See, no one really talked to him this way. It was only ever you. All his men followed his orders. All of them dared not to cross him just because he might have maimed several people who crossed him. Cowards. Additionally, your quick wit and your personality that took no shit from anyone were a breath of fresh air for him. He could almost treat his refuge in this town as a vacation. Well, until he can return to ruling all the worlds.

Ah, you were really beautiful, he thought as he looked closely at you. Had he met you under his normal circumstances, he would have made a move on you already. But alas, this was the craziest of times in his life. He did not need any attachments to this godforsaken town.

He tilted his head, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Why, angel? How does a man my age act with a woman as beautiful as you?” he asked lowly, his voice deepened more than usual. Your heart skipped a beat at what he was asking, but you were you and he was him. And so you met his eyes, his scarred eye did nothing to lessen his beauty. If anything, his scar proved that he lived. You felt his other hand moved to the small of your back, ensuring that you stayed where he wanted you to.

“W-well. For one, a man your age should have a stable job-“

He nodded, his hand mindlessly rubbing your waist. “Got it. A stable and well-paying job.” If only you knew what he was in his life, he thought. He had a stable job in the police department and a well-paying job as the kingpin.

“-and a man your age should take care of a woman as beautiful as me. How else can you protect a woman without any means to do so? Honey, no woman would stay with you if you are incapable of providing,” you shot back with a smirk on your face thinking that he wasn’t any of the things you said.

Suga could only chuckled at what you were insinuating. He was more than capable, alright. “So, all I need to do is get a job so you won’t leave me?”

You nodded seriously. “I need a man who buys me expensive things.”

He smiled so widely at you that his adorable gums were visible. You were entertaining, he thought. He could buy you all the things you could ever wanted had he been in his normal life. If only you knew.

“Doc, are you going to the carnival later?” the office’s assistant asked as you bade her goodbye for the day. You had been working here since your arrival in this town. You thought you were extremely lucky to find someone hiring in the town as small as this was. It turned out, this was perfect for you.

You offered her a smile even though her eyes strayed to the man behind you. He looked as bored as he felt. He annoyed you into clocking out early because he was hungry. You told him straight off that he didn’t need to wait for you but if stubbornness has a name, it would be Suga.

“Is that your fiancé?” she whispered to you.

“What? No-“

“Angel,” he suddenly called you, his expression that of an innocent man and that was when you knew he was on his bullshit again. “You know it hurts me when you deny us.”

“How could you, doc?” she accused you lightly, shaking her head at you as she fully believed his horrendous act. “It’s okay. The whole town knows, anyway.”

“What?! How?”

“Well, you’re hiding someone as handsome as him. Of course the whole town will talk. It’s not like we get new people in this town, anyway.”

Before you could answer, he was pulling your workbag and you were left with no choice but to follow him. The clinic was a ten-minute walk. In a town as quiet as this was, walking was more welcome than driving. He was walking with one hand in his pocket, the other pulling your bag which made inadvertently made him carry most of the weight and all you needed to do was follow his lead.

“I’m going to the carnival later,” you quipped up, watching his reaction from behind. He didn’t even spare you a glance but you could feel the annoying smirk showing in his face.

“Is this your way of asking me to come?”

“As if,” you scoffed, looking at the other side to hide your expression. Why the fuck did you want him there with you, you thought angrily. You couldn’t deny that you did, though… “B-but, do you want to come?”

“Nope.”

Yep. Your heart sure didn’t drop at that.

You had just changed your clothes when you heard a knock. You opened the door and immediately lighted up when you saw it was your friend and the owner of the clinic. “Hey, you ready to go?”

“Yup, let me just grab my--“ you trailed off when you felt a had pulling you. Your back was plastered on his front as he regarded who technically was your boss. His face was devoid of any emotion as he looked at him with his dark eyes.  

“You are?”

“I’m…Jackson?”

“Is that a question?” he scoffed. “I’m her fiancé,” he stated with enough strength that no one would think that he wasn’t staking claim. He said it with enough force as though to ask the man in front of you who the fuck he was in your life that he had the audacity to take you from him.

Jackson glanced at you with something akin to a teasing glint in his eyes before meeting Suga’s eyes head on. “Cool. Although I heard the news, I didn’t believe that Y/N has a fiancé now.”

“Well, believe it.”

“Okaaay,” you spoke with finality before turning to Suga. “I’ll be going now-“

“I’m coming with you.”

You watched him as he took in the bright lines from the carnival. He genuinely looked like a cat as he turned his head to look at every ride and stall the carnival had. This was his first time going to a place such as this with his father never allowing him to enjoy what normal children enjoyed. He was not allowed to exist for any reason other than to serve his father’s ambition. Simple pleasures such as this was deprived from him. He wondered if this was also the reason why he grew up as depraved as he was, he thought, to never have known and feel comfort and happiness, did those things make him the greedy and twisted man that he was?

He tugged you to the side when he saw what seemed like a toy gun and lines of cans on the wall. He watched as teenagers miserably failed to knock down the required numbers of cans. He shook his head before turning to you with his palm up in expectation.

See this was why most of your budget went to him.

“No.”

He frowned grumpily, “Why not?”

“Because games like that are rigged.”

“But I want to shoot a gun…”

You strayed on the other side when you got bored watching him shoot like a lunatic. You were drawn to the small band playing on the other side of the carnival. You joined the crowd as they swayed to the sweet melodies as they sang a rendition of The One by Kodaline. A smile graced your lips as you watched an elderly couple leaned into each other as they listened to the song. It must have been nice to have someone to grow old with, you thought. It must have been comforting to have someone…but you didn’t and you couldn’t.

Not with your situation.

You were going to grow old alone. You were going to live a life of solitary and never to have anyone to call your own. Your thoughts were louder than the music. Your emotions were higher than the volume of the instrments when you felt a familiar hand pulled you. And it was as though time moved a little bit slower as he turned you around to face his towering form. His skin was glowing underneath the sea of fluorescent lights from the carnival. His long, dark hair was framing his face. He was breathing hard as he stared down at you with his equally dark eyes. Your heart beat faster when you met his eyes.

“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been looking for you, angel,” he reprimanded with an air or worry and annoyance in his voice. He frowned, loathing the fact that he looked everywhere for you. And when he couldn’t find you, he didn’t know why it unnerved him, nor why it felt wrong to not know where you were. Or why for the first time in his life, he felt the crippling panic in his heart.

Shadows engulfed his face as he looked down at you, the light behind him made him looked like an ethereal being, one that was too dangerous to touch, yet you were preconditioned to meet him. It was the cruelest of trick that you and him were always meant to cross paths, and neither of you could avoid it.

 “Don’t just leave like that.”

And you knew right then and there, you were fucked.

-Somewhere in Seoul, South Korea-

Park Jimin walked stealthily on the narrow street, his eyes on the bodies scattered on the ground. Finally, he could feel it. This was it. He was going to know who the betrayer was.

He smirked as he stalked to the last breathing man leaning on the wall. Jimin whistled ominously, his hand on his pocket and the other holding his favorite gun nonchalantly. He smiled angelically at the dying man as he squatted down to look at him eye to eye.

“P-pl-please…” he whispered pathetically, “e-end me, s-sir. P-please-“

Jimin smiled at him before lifting the man’s chin with his gun, “It hurts, doesn’t it?” he whispered tauntingly. “I should give you the mercy you don’t deserve, right?”

“P-Pleas-“

“I will. Don’t worry,” he assured him before losing his smile all together. He was not going to leave anyone alive tonight, he thought. That was never part of the plan. “But you need to tell me who your boss is.”

And he did.

“So it’s you, huh?” Jimin whispered to himself as he walked away from the crime, his men rushing in to clean the mess.

Latibule V

[withered-blossoms]

(Withered-Blossoms) SAGAU Scheming Creator! Reader Imposter AU Part 5

A/N: First and foremost, this AU is by @sena-shi

I do not own this series, nor the idea.

Secondly, I absolutely love this series, it is amazingly written and I would highly recommend checking it out to those who haven't. Third, after reading part 4, I suddenly had a tiny bit of inspiration and I wanted to try writing my version of part 5 of it (this will not affect the original author in writing part 5 of the series, worry not).

Edit: The original author has given me her consent to write my version of this series, admittedly I should have dm'ed her beforehand, and I will never make this mistake again.

Also this is not proofread, so apologies for some typos/spelling mistakes. The word count is 3878 words or so Google Docs says.

Anyways, enjoy :DDDD

꧁༺Main Page | Angst Masterlist | Fluff Masterlist༻꧂

If every year of not being graced with your divine presence acts as a tiny blade that cuts a fibre of the impossibly thin thread known as Zhongli's sanity, then seeing you allowing these.....unworthy, mortal commoners to bask in the holy light you radiate would be the pair of scissors that snips the thread in half.

How dare they, when those foolish mortals are unable and consequently have not worshipped you for thousands of years, flit around you like the pesky flies they were? How dare they, not having devoted their entire being, their entire life, their existence's purpose to you, drink up your attention so hungrily? How dare they take the place that belonged, rightfully so, to him and only him when what they have done for you are nothing but specks of dust compared to the glorious acts he carried out in your name?

So why were you choosing to stay with them? When they have done nothing worthy of your grace? Why were you looking at him with a gaze that carried the heavy disappointment and disapproval that you never voiced? Zhongli does not understand, and neither do the adepti now standing beside him in a neat, uniform line, waiting for their archon's commands.

You find it amusing though. One would think that for someone who has lived for so long like Zhongli, he would be an expert at hiding his emotions and maintaining that mask of cool, indifferent politeness that he took pride in. And yet look at him now, losing that ability and reverting back to a child who knows not about keeping emotions from twisting their features into an ugly snarl.

Ganyu, on the other hand, looked pale and regretful. Under normal circumstances, should such a look appear on a face as pretty as Ganyu's, anyone else would have gone soft and thrown in the towel. But yet that sight filled your heart with this twisted sort of satisfaction. The desire for them to beg and grovel at your feet for forgiveness was thinly veiled behind a mask of betrayal and shock, and you were starting to find it hard not to let your eyes crinkle from the smirk threatening to curve your lips.

Not now, you reminded yourself, it's not the time for your facade to shatter.

And Xiao, your sweet, sweet child, who also happens to be the one responsible for the wound scabbed over on your leg. He, who was so persistent on making sure you were unable to escape, could not even look at your eyes now, amber orbs choosing to lock onto their targets instead. He couldn't bring himself to check your form, not when the chance of your bloody bandages catching his attention was so great.

After all, Rex Lapis needs his finely-honed weapon to carry out his commands now, and he couldn't break down in front of his divine creator. He's already shown such a horrifying part of him to you, one that slaughtered and knew nothing else, he would really go insane if you started fearing his more unsightly sides.

You would have applauded Morax and his little clique for the entertaining display of emotions had the boat not started to rock even more. It truly was a shame that they did not take up Sichuan Opera face-changing; they would have done so well even without the masks.

Meanwhile, Beidou was busy commanding the crew and making preparations for a possible tsunami, and Kazuha was ready to scoop you into his arms and bring you under deck. You, however, were not willing to miss this act, and thus stopped him by placing a hand over his. Temporarily ignoring how he froze up and blushed, you turned to the defenders of Liyue.

You could tell that the only reason why Zhongli kept up the intensity of the earthquake was because Xiao or the Cloud Retainer would immediately pluck you out of the ship before it was swallowed by the massive waves, but would you really just let yourself be taken to Liyue like this? Before even seeing the famed Inazuma? Of course not, after all you still had to see how Raiden Shogun, the one you personally raised alongside Zhongli, would react after seeing your face.

Choosing to let the winds carry your seemingly heartbroken words to their ears, you muttered, "Are you.....here to capture me? Is Liyue really unable to tolerate my existence?" And oh how much delight their flinches brought, especially the one coming from the ever-composed Geo Archon. Upon hearing your words, the group dropped to their knees, the seabed stilling as apologies and pleads spilled from their lips.

Beidou and her crew on the other hand though, you really got to give it to them. As if sensing your intentions to leave quickly, they took the chance to sail away as quickly as possible, with the winds guiding the ship. And of course, you were not going to let their efforts go to waste, choosing to keep the crazed adepti at bay with your sorrowful words.

"I've already given you my word to stay out of your sight, Morax. I apologise for breaking my promise to you, and if Liyue wishes so, I will disappear here and now. However, if you are still willing to listen to me, then I wish not for any harm to befall on these kind souls." You sighed, motioning to the Alcor's crew.

You weren't dumb; you could practically see the sparks forming from their clashing gazes. Beidou and Kazuha's were filled with hatred— disdain, even— and the adepti's a beautiful mix of hesitation and jealousy. What a wonderful sight it was, seeing the high and mighty adepti almost grovelling at your feet, and watching them struggle internally between their twisted desires and your commands.

The quirk of your lips was getting harder and harder to hide even behind your veil, and you had to turn your head before you burst out laughing at their foolish attempt at redemption.

But even the turn of your head was planned, not that they needed to know anyways. You know their rotten brains will just automatically decipher this action as a small try to hide your disappointment. Adding the facts that Zhongli had made you cry and Xiao had wounded you personally into the equation, the tides would no doubt turn to your favour.

Seeing how Zhongli's grip on his weapon tightened then loosened, you knew you had won the bet. He could only keep his head down low and motion for the adepti to retreat while stilling the earth, though his burning gaze stayed on your form until The Alcor all but disappeared into the horizon. He simply couldn't risk you leaving Teyvat for good, not when he finally had you in his grasp, and so he will wait patiently for the right time, just as he had for the past thousands of years.

"It is time for our divine grace to take back their throne." He muttered, the adepti bowing when they realised what his words entailed. He knew they would not run their mouth in front of the others; this was a matter only for the adepti to know. Not long after, Zhongli was left alone, the others returning to their posts and duties. He watched as the Alcor gradually disappeared from his sights, vowing that he would bring you back no matter what.

And with that grand finale, you finally left Liyue.

The journey to Inazuma was relatively pleasant, save for the terrifying thunderstorms at the lower-half of the trip. But eventually the ship docked, and you saw that familiar teleport waypoint where you once met the capable and friendly housekeeper named Thoma, except that he was nowhere to be seen this time. Oh well, it does not matter, he is probably at the Kamisato estate, waiting for his Lord's commands as usual. What was more important was playing your part as the kind and benevolent creator, and so you turned to the crew and smiled sweetly, thanking them for getting you to Inazuma safely with as much sincerity as you could muster to make it more convincing.

Travelling along the streets, without a friendly local guide this time, you could not help but subtly glance around. From the game, you always knew how the locals here treated foreigners, but experiencing it yourself turned that knowledge into the understatement of the year. It wasn't just overcharging you to a ridiculous degree; there were also the stares that never seemed to leave your figure and the whispers that revolved around you as if you were the eye of a tornado.

But it matters not. As long as they don't stop you from "vacationing" in this gorgeous nation, then you won't pay any mind to their actions.

However, this time the plot happened faster. You had no idea just how The Shogun managed to grasp the news of a fake creator being present when she was so....closed-off from the world, but clearly she had some amazing news sources. The streets were filled with even more patrolling officers than you recalled, and even the people on the streets had taken to scattering when the Doushin came around.

Well, this was clearly not a good time to be a foreigner huh? Because a Doushin was already heading your way, and in a condescending tone had asked for your identity, or any documents related to it. You did not have any, though this time even Kazuha could not save you with his smooth-talking, which in fact seemed to annoy the officer more.

Instead, the officer reached out to remove your veil, but Kazuha wasn't going to let him. Half because he knew you were going to get taken away, and the other half was due to the slight possessivenes swirling in his chest. Why should he have to let other people be graced by your beauty and light?

Although shielding you from the guard did seem to wear his patience thinner than the thread that made up Zhongli's sanity.

Sensing Kazuha's worry when the officer roughly grabbed your arm to take you away, you slyly patted the back of his hand and shook your head, putting on a comforting smile and whispering for him to go back to the Crux.

Despite his initial hesitation, you knew he'd listen to you anyways. After all, he couldn't fight the Doushin here and risk getting his kind, caring and benevolent creator injured or even exposed here could he?

Hence he retreated, hungrily drinking up your sweet smile as you were dragged away. He feared that this might be the last time he'll ever see of you and so he did his best to engrave the soft and beautiful curve of your lips into his memory as he went back to find Beidou.

You, on the other hand, weren't too worried. After making sure you had fooled Kazuha with a convincing smile, you opted to follow the guard instead. He was essentially your one-way ticket to the Raiden, so why not? Even though you would have to be thrown into a prison cell, you supposed that it wouldn't be the worst thing on Earth.

In the end, you will be the one seeing their arrogance and triumph morph into an amusing combination of regret and desperation anyways, and you certainly weren't in a rush to speed up the process.

".....Is this the order of The Shogun?" You asked, knowing that he most likely weren't going to give you an answer, but you still have to keep up the role, which was as fake as they had deemed your identity to be. So, you let out a seemingly self-mocking chuckle.

"First Mondstadt, then Liyue, and now Inazuma. It would seem that I am truly not wanted by my children. But at least they look happy and content. After all, even baby birds leave their nests one day...."

Muttering to yourself, you didn't miss the slight flinch from the officer, though it only earned you his panic, hidden behind a harsh shove into your cell once he's done reporting to his higher-ups.

"Do not act like you're the real creator, Their Grace may be forgiving and benevolent, but we certainly will not be merciful."

He snorted and walked off. Good lord, you have never seen anyone as arrogant as that. And of course you weren't complaining, it just makes their begging afterwards more.....satisfying, wouldn't you agree?

That doesn't make your time in the cell any more pleasant though, seeing how they saved the worst one for you.

You didn't have to wait long though, since it only took an hour or two before Kujou Sara was standing before you, peering down at your curled up form as if you were the most repulsive being she's ever laid her eyes on.

Instead, she settled for ordering the guards to free you from confinement and had them escort you while she lead the way to the Shogun's residence. Sara spoke not a word to you as usual, and you busied yourself with looking around subtly while keeping your head low to mask your lack of fear. The scenery was more beautiful than what you had seen in game; the colours were more vivid, and even the lavender melon that hadn't looked appetising were practically tempting you to take a bite out of their orchid bodies. Unfortunately, you didn't get to take in the beautiful view a little longer, for they had already brought you into the Tenshukaku.

It would seem that Raiden is eager to meet you, seeing how swiftly her subordinates dragged you to the Tenshukaku. Upon entering the room, your eyes landed on the puppet sitting serenly on her throne, eyes closed and meditating. Hah, what a nice facade to disguise the anger practically radiating off of her.

You weren't scared though. After all, even dogs don't bite the hand that feeds them, and you could easily take back everything you've ever graced them with.

Thus, 'long time no see, my strongest battery.' was your first thought, though you could not let that spill past your lips. Hence, you let out a small but sweet smile and mumbled in the sweetest voice you could let flow from your vocal chords.

"How have you been, Ei?"

The archon in question slowly opened her eyes, elegant and refined as always. Although, from the fury burning in her purple irises alone, you could already tell that she wanted your existence to cease, and that if it weren't for the fact that the creator had asked to bring you back alive, you feared she may have slashed you with her elemental burst right here and now.

You could sense how the Doushin and Sara froze upon hearing you address their archon by her real name. However, before Sara could reprimand you, a look from Raiden sent them bowing and leaving the room. And now, it was just you and her.

You were just wondering why she demanded to meet you alone when a thought popped up in your brain — could it be that because she couldn't execute you personally without the other archons present, she wishes to hurt you in a non-lethal way instead? Seeing the confirmation in the lilac eyes you once found beautiful, you almost let out a snort. My my, who knew that the almighty Raiden Ei was actually such a sadist?

You refused to let her hurt you though. How dare they hurt the actual divine being who had given them life and created this beautiful world for them to live in for a mere phony? How dare they give you scars just because they were too ignorant to see who's the real deal?

With that in mind, you raised your eyes to meet hers, yours ever so subtly showing the galaxies they hold, and hers slowly filling with slight confusion when she noticed the depth of your orbs. It did not hinder her from holding her precious sword to your neck though, so you cut her off before she could speak.

"You mentioned that when we meet, you wished for us to enjoy some tricolour dango together along with the finest tea you have. It is such a shame that we had to meet like this." You smiled, keeping your gaze and voice level as you took in every change in her expression from suspect, to shock, to disbelief and finally distrust.

"....I do not know how you dug up that information. It matters not, for that only applies to their Grace. You are but an imposter who is undeserving and yet seeks to take over the throne, and I shall not be deceived so easily. Since their Grace is too kind to the likes of you, I will take it upon myself as their loyal devotee to punish you for your atrocious attempt."

Before she could lift her blade, you grabbed it with a hand. You thanked the high heavens that it was as sharp as you hoped it to be, since you did not have to dig the blade too deeply into your skin for your blood to show. You weren't willing to leave scars because of their foolishness after all, and God knows that those maniacs would be more delighted knowing that they had marked you in some way, albeit under less ideal circumstances.

The two of you watched as the ichor slid down your arm before one, two, three drops of it splattered onto the pristine white clothing you had. It shimmered an ethereal gold before being absorbed, and Raiden had finally gone still for once. You could almost hear the non-existent gears turning in the puppet's head, where a brain was supposed to be, and before you could react, she had gently removed your injured hand from her blade and tossed the sword aside.

Kneeling before you, she fretted over your injury while keeping her head low as Zhongli and the adepti had, desperately trying to heal you. Frantic apologies flowed from her lips like a river, and she panicked slightly more when she noticed that you were still bleeding. She was selfish, not wanting others to know about your existence, but your well-being and health eventually won the mental debate taking place in the puppet's head.

"Your grace, I did not realise it was you. My sincerest apologies for being ignorant, and I am aware of how unworthy I am to touch you but I beg of you, do let me heal your injuries before you decide to take your anger out on me." Having said that, she called for Sara to bring a medical kit, and the lady swiftly came in worth one in her hand. She showed neither shock nor regret as she helped the Shogun patch up your hand, though you supposed that it was only normal considering the number of years she's had in learning how to keep her emotions from showing on her face.

Huh, even a short-lived mortal is more capable than long-lived archons in this aspect.

You were tempted to stay and see how Ei and Inazuma would react and repent for their sins, yet the beginnings of an earthquake warned you to leave quickly. Your time in the Tenshukaku was almost up, so you quickly grabbed a brush and paper and left a note for a certain angy dragon. Or maybe it was an angy Teyvat, you didn't know. Just in case it was the former though, you could only hope that a note would prevent the people of this gorgeous nation from being decimated.

'Morax, I wish not for the citizens of Inazuma to face your wrath. With that, I hope you spare them from death and suffering alike.'

The note was short and sweet, as you had liked. There was nothing else to say to him anyways, so you rolled up the paper and turned to Ei, placing it into her hands.

"If you wish for your people and nation to live on, pass this to Morax if he arrives. Do not fight, your people should take priority. I'm terribly sorry for ruining your eternity, but it seems that you are favoured by luck itself, for my time is up." You lifted the corners of your lips into a gentle curve as you patted her hand.

You really were too kind, so benevolent and so bright that Ei could not believe her eyes nor ears. Her people watched and talked about you behind your back, dragged and tossed you into the filthiest cell they had, and she herself had injured you personally. She wanted to make it up to you, to proceed and lavish you in the best luxuries Inazuma, no, Teyvat could provide. She did not want you to be absent from her side, so why was it that even though you were in her hold now, it seemed like you would disappear any second?

What did she have to do to make you stay? Did you want her heart? Her head? Or should she injure her hand the way she had injured you? Tell her, what did you want from the Raiden Shogun? She would give you everything and anything, from her eternity to the stars in the sky. So why? Why did you still want to leave? Why not stay with her for eternity?

Seeing the crazed looks in those purple orbs, you removed yourself from her tightening grasp and avoided her attempts to hold onto you to ensure your stay. You still had to visit either Sumeru or Watatsumi Island anyways, and being held in captivity was not a price you were willing to pay. You knew that she could and would easily pull you into her consciousness, and you sincerely did not want to live your life there.

Reminding yourself that, your eyelids fluttered shut and you let the wisps of power engulfing you take you away, finding yourself in front of the Alcor again. Technically speaking, you also did owe the crew an explanation for your sudden disappearance and some reassurance, the sudden hug from Kazuha only proving you right. Even though you weren't close to him or Beidou, you still felt a little guilty when you realised that he was shaking.

To make it up to him, you patted his back and offered Beidou to join in on the hug, which she appeared to accept begrudgingly but you knew better, especially from the way her shoulders sagged in relief. Once they had both calmed their nerves, you ushered them back to work. Despite them questioning your next destination, you knew it would be impractical for them to sail to the other nations with you, and teleport waypoints were a godsend. You told the two that, and as disappointed as they were to not be able to accompany you, they still respected your wishes unlike a certain duo, possibly trio, which you greatly appreciated.

Hence,for the first time since arriving in Teyvat, you gave your first genuine smile, making Kazuha swoon internally and Beidou turn away in order to hide her burning cheeks. You were very well aware that the archons could possibly see this, though you weren't worried. In spite of the lightning flashing in the background and the rumble of the earth, you knew that they wish not to end up in your bad books just for a few mortals. Having confirmed the safety of the people who had helped you, you could finally retreat to your room on the ship and decide your next destination.

Now, where should you grace with your presence next?

[peachyloveswriting]

@seabassycat asked: Vash. Something like him getting jealous about Wolfwood giving attention to the person Vash likes but is too shy to tell until Wolf does something about it.

This one is set in the newer Trigun show, figured I'd change up pace for just a moment lol. I like the dynamic here so hopefully something flourishes.

MAKE A MOVE ALREADY! --- Vash The Stampede

SUMMARY: This whole ignoring you thing has gotten out of hand maybe it's time you finally leave... Or so you thought.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Laughter bubbles into the air around the fire, you find it hilarious watching Meryl's face contort into disgust as Nick shoves a meat stick into her face. She reels back, a hand on his chest trying to push him away. "Ew. No!" She cries. Her and Roberto sit across from you while Nick moves to steal Vash's empty spot beside you.

From the truck, Vash watches Nick plop down beside you. In his hand is the same stick of meat he was torturing Meryl with and while that brought a smile to his face, seeing Nick throw an arm around your shoulder irked him. Normally this kind of thing wouldn't bother him but seeing you smiling and laughing while being so close to him... Suddenly you squeal. "Vash!" You try to push Nick away with your hands and lean your head away from him as much as you can. He's forcing the same stick of meat towards your face while you laugh and squeal hysterically, all while calling for Vash to do something.

Though he's disappointed by how easy it is for Nick to interact with you he jogs up and takes the stick of meat from Nick's hand with a grin. Whipping his head around, Nick gasps in betrayal. "Give it back!" He leaps up to grab his food back.

Nick jumps and grabs for the food in Vash's hand but he easily evades him and dances around him like a fool. Your laugh erupts in the background. "Payback!" Butterflies erupt in Vash's stomach. Just hearing your laugh and joyful voice makes his chest grow warm. he'd give anything to see you so happy like this all the time. He's so wrapped up in you that Wolfwood snatches back the food.

"If you keep acting like this... You'll get killed. Just tell them already. It's so obvious you like them."

Nick walked away so fast that Vash almost didn't catch what he said. This really was ruining Vash all over. Watching everyone interact with you so easily while he slunk away to be by himself in fear of exposing himself to you. That feels like that last thing he wants but knowing all of him is what he wants you to do. All of his secrets would be yourself and yours would be his. But no matter what, with all these hands on you, his stayed the farthest away while Nick stayed the closest.

You waved to him. "Vash, c'mon. Sit down." Patting the empty seat beside you, you gesture for him to sit down. Politely, Vash shakes his head. "I think I'll head to bed." He raises his hands defensively. "Night." Turning, he gives a small wave before stepping inside the truck.

Watching his walk away, you frown. Of everyone in the group he was the easiest to get along with yet he avoids you the most. You try so hard to get his attention or approval yet you get nothing in return. Beside you, Nick settles again. Tearing off a piece of meat he nudges you. "Go check on Needle-noggin."

"What? Me? No. I shouldn't." Anyone but you should do it. He would say much otherwise.

Nick motions to the truck. "Just do it."

Lowering your gaze to the ground, you sigh. Truth be told, Vash was the one who roped you into the group. Between everyone else and him, he feels more familiar than the others. It should be him that you're closer to, yet he avoids you like the plague. Even though these people have provided you with everything you need Vash is the only reason you wanted to stay. With him avoiding you, leaving felt more than easy to do, but you don't want to leave. Damn him.

"Fine." Placing your knees, you rise to your feet. "I'll be back."

Warmth from the fire fades as you reach the back door to the truck. Through the window you can see Vash leaned back in the seat, his head angles out the window opposite to you. Raising a hand you softly knock and open the door. "Hey."

Vash lifts his head to look at you. "oh, hey." He doesn't sound happy to see you. For a moment you debate just leaving and going back to the fire, but seeing him now only further fuels your reasoning for coming out here. Sliding into the seat you shut the door behind you. The silence that fills the truck is unnerving, it makes your stomach churn with unease. Just the way he's purposefully looking away from you is killing you. There has to be a reason why.

You take a deep breath. Your heart pounds in your chest and your throat feels dry. "Do you hate me?" The age old question that's been stuck on your mind.

Finally, Vash whips around to look at you. His eyes are wide, it's almost like he's shocked by what you said and he jumps to shoot your thoughts down. "No. I don't hate you. Not at all. What made you think that?"

You shift your gaze past him and out the window. "You avoid the fuck out of me." It only started a few weeks into traveling with everyone. It only got worse from there. "I really think you hate me."

Vash's face softens. The disappointment is written all over your face, he knows what he did. But just moments ago you were laughing and smiling along with everyone else. What brought on such a foul mood? Why did he have to see you so down?

"I'm sorry." He looks down at his hands. Stupid apologies won't solve the way he feels or the way you feel but he's trapped, if he tells you now the whole thing will be ruined and you'll leave on your own again. He'll be left alone without you there to pull him away from these sad things he feels, you're the only one who does that for him. "You're not going to leave, are you?"

"Vash." You look back at him. "Vash." He raises his head to meet your gaze. "The only reason I stayed was because of you. I only thought about leaving when you started ignoring me." Vash's heart feels like it's going to explode in his chest at any moment. Just hearing that from you makes him feel like he might seize. It's almost unbelievable that you would say something like that to him, The Humanoid Typhoon.

"Really?" He urges. "I had no clue. Is there anything I can do to make up for it?" His need to sate his own curiosity is of no use to him. What does matter is the way you feel and how he can fix it, regardless of how he feels.

"Maybe you could start by telling me why. Why would you ignore me?"

There it is, the question he hoped you wouldn't ask. All these emotions are too much for him to even handle right now. He can't possibly tell you the truth, you'll never feel the same.

Vash looks away and shakes his head. "I'll tell you some other time." A brief moment of silence passes over you before you explode.

"Vash. I have had enough of this 'everything's perfect' facade and 'I can't tell you' bullshit. I want to know the truth. If I did something you should just tell me." Your hand grabs his with a vice grip. "Just tell me, please."

When his eyes meet yours again, they're swimming with worry, while his are teaming with sadness. To see you so frustrated over such a simple thing makes his chest ache. If he just told you it might save you the turmoil, but... Fuck it. Just as he opens his mouth to spill his feelings to you, the passenger door opens. "Coming in. You two better not be making out or anything." Roberto announces.

Dread fills your body watching Roberto climb in, not even what he said brings the slightest blush to your face. Instead, you squeeze Vash's hand tighter and look back at him sternly. "You better tell me the next time we're alone."

Swallowing harshly with a nod he leans his head up against the glass. Slowly your hand slips from his and you quietly bid both of them goodnight as you slip out the truck. Vash felt nothing but guilt as he watched you go and all the willpower he felt to tell you went with. This really felt like a mistake.

--

You crossed paths with Meryl on your way back out to the fire. Nick was watching you, still sitting in the same spot as he had been before. Even knowing that Vash would tell you eventually, that didn't stop your want to leave from growing. Reaching the spot beside Nick, you quietly took a seat.

"Well?" He urges.

You shake your head. "When we reach the next city, I'm leaving."

Nick looks at you in disbelief. "Why?"

"I'm sleeping out here tonight. Goodnight." Was all you said. Annoyed with Vash, Nick bid you goodnight and left back to the truck. Finally alone to yourself, staring up at the brilliantly lit night sky, you honestly considered packing and leaving now. What a better time to leave without the hassle of the other bugging you than now that they're asleep. You wait as long as you possibly can before you clamber up to the top of the truck where your belongings rest with the other. It lays directly beside Vash's bag, leaning up against it.

Throwing the bag over your shoulder, you slide off the truck. Taking a moment, you turn to gaze at the truck with a deep breath before you turn to make your way into the empty and dangerous desert. The quiet coldness of the air feels serene as you take your first step away. Just leaving like this feels bad but what other reason do you have to stay.

--

When the door opened and closed again, Vash peeked an eye open to see Nick glaring at him. He felt he was in for a lecture. But instead he leaned closer to him and began to whisper.

"You should be disappointed. They're leaving in the next city."

Vash's heart drops. "What?" It's like his world has stopped spinning entirely. "I'm going to talk to them." Nick grabbed Vash's hand to stop him.

"You're not going out there unless it's to confess blondie." Vash snatches his wrist from Nick's grasp. With a stern glare he pushes the door open. "Exactly."

That was Vash's plan until he got caught up behind the truck watching you from afar. You laid beside the fire staring up at the glowing sky. Just thinking about going out right saying it fills him with anxiety. If it's out of the blue it's no use, he would just have to convince you. He became caught up in the matters of thinking this over and before he knew it you were nowhere to be seen, until he noticed you on top of the truck. Diving to the ground he pushes himself under just in time to see your feet hit the ground where he just was.

When you started walking away he crawled from underneath the truck and started after you. As he reached you, he tapped your shoulder. You paused and spun around ready to fight. Realizing it was just him, you sighed with relief. "It's just you. I thought you were asleep." You hadn't even heard him leave the truck. Surely you would have.

Nervously, Vash offers you a smile. "And I thought you weren't leaving until the next city."

Your breath hitches in your throat. "Wolfwood told me." Vash admits.

You let your bag drop to the ground beside you. His face is lit softly by the glow of the worms over head. It only accentuates the color in his eyes now that hes not wearing his shades. Suddenly be begins to slip off his coat. "You look cold." He offers it to you. "Take this." You feel wrong to accept his offer but take it any way, the night air was starting to get to you. Pulling it on, you're overwhelmed by a strong floral smell and light musk. It's not bad by any means, and the coat is warm.

"Thanks."

Vash's heart leaps in his chest. Seeing you in his coat leaves his head soaring. He'd have you wear it all the time if he could. But not wanting to waste any more time he takes you by the hand and begins to lead you up hill towards the overhang that covers the truck. "What are you doing?"

His hand feels rightly placed within yours and the warmth is simply unforgettable. "Just wait." He tells you.

As you reach the tip of the overhang, a swift breeze blows past, flapping the end of the coat out behind you. Everything is visible along the horizon and the worms are closer than before making their light bright around you. Each one of them looks like stars that dot the sky. For a moment it makes you forget your unrest.

With his hand still in yours, Vash beckons you to sit down beside him. Happily taking his over you settle beside him. This is the closest you've ever sat to him without having to be in the truck and of his free will too. As strange as it feels it sits just right in your soul and everything feels right. The way his hand slips from yours and slides across your back to tug you closer. Both you stare out at the horizon in silence before acknowledging the other verbally. if you could you'd stay here forever.

"Can I tell you something?" Vash asks.

Instinctively you lean your head on his shoulder. "Yeah."

Feeling you rest your head against his shoulder, he tenses. Everything around him feels like he's under water. He's too scared to drown. Telling you would mean letting the water in but his lips can't stay sealed for much longer, the need to breathe is too much. He has to do it.

"The truth is..." You raise your head to look at him. "I've been avoiding you because I really like you and seeing everyone be able to interact with you so easily, especially Wolfwood, it bothers me." He looks down at you. "It's selfish that I want you all to myself but I can't have that if you leave. I really want you here, with me."

Your heart is pounding in your ears. "Selfish?" You question. "Is it really selfish if I want you too?"

Vash's eyes open wide with surprise while warmth fills his chest. "You actually like me back?"

With a playful grin you shove him. "Yeah. I would have left way sooner otherwise. I'm glad you stopped me."

He chuckles. "Wow. That's a relief." The weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders for just a moment. With you by his side the world feels like it's just within his grasp. His arm wrapped around you and your hand grabbing his prosthetic one. The very thing he has been seeking was right here for all this time and he was just too scared to take a chance. That still leaves the plant matter in the air though. How would you react to that?

"There's some things I should probably tell you if you're going to be with me like that." At least now he could finally trade your secrets with his and hold you close like he had hoped he would.

Your eyes fall to his lips. "I won't mind, whatever it is. But I really want to-"

Before you can get the word out Vash's lips are already against yours. He's soft, his prosthetic hand slipping from yours to cup your face. Letting your eyes flutter closed, you melt against him. Just like before a strong floral smell engulfs you. You don't mind it though and instead allow yourself to melt into his touch.

"Thank you for staying." He says as he pulls away.

Resting your forehead against his, you smile. "I would have come back eventually."

[sheerfreesia007]

Took a Louisville Slugger

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

Word count: 2,793

Content warnings: Violence, cursing, fire, cheating mentioned, betrayal, suggestive

Summary: Seungmin is labeled the most dangerous man in your city and you make the mistake of breaking into his car. What happens when he catches you in the act?

The evening had started off wrong as soon as Seungmin had finished up his last meeting in the office. There was just something in the air that made the hairs on the back of his arms stand at attention and made his skin itch with irritation. He had gotten a message advising that the newest small-time gang was acting up in his jurisdiction again and they were harassing the businesses that were under his protection. Feeling the itch under his skin grow he had solemnly told his crew to gather and start rolling out so that they could deal with the gang. He was going to make an appearance and let these idiots know who was boss in this town and it wasn’t them. But of course nothing could be easy or simple, why would it be?

”What’s the matter? Can't the boss man over there step up and do the job himself?” Taunted the insignificant man who called himself the leader as he hung from the grip of the large man’s fist.

”Enough Nam.” Seungmin said darkly as he pushed off from the wall that he was leaning against. He rolled his shoulders twice as he kept his dark eyes trained on the pitiful man. Nam easily released his hold on the man and let him fall to a crumpled pile on the floor as Seungmin stalked towards him. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and slipped out of it before handing it over to Nam who took it without a word and moved a few steps away from Seungmin to take his place against the wall watching silently.

Seungmin comes to stand tall over the man slumped on the floor and sneers darkly at the man. Swinging his foot backwards Seungmin lets it fly and feels his steel toed boot connect with the man’s jaw causing the man to slide across the floor with a loud moan. Seungmin stalks over to him once more and grabs him by the collar of his sleeveless denim jacket hauling him up so that he gazes into his bruised and battered face.

”Nam is the better option when it comes to punishment. You would know that if you actually did your research.” Seungmin spits out in a low dark tone. “He doesn’t enjoy it like I do.” Seungmin hisses softly and watches as the man’s eyes widen with fear as a dark smirk falls onto Seungmin’s lips.

*-*-*-*

Hours later Seungmin is walking down the sidewalk adjusting his shirt cuffs under his jacket. He looks down at the white starched material and frowns irritatedly, there’s a bright red blood stain on the cuff near where his amethyst cufflinks are. With a deep sigh he knows that he’s going to have to send it dry cleaner tomorrow with a note asking for it to be deeply cleaned.

The sneer hasn’t left his face when he turns the corner to where the car is parked and hears a loud smash from down the street. He frowns darkly wondering what other nuisance was going to mess with his night as he turns his head to see a smaller dark clothed figure standing at the side of his car on the driver’s side. He stepped back towards the corner of the building and watched silently for a moment.

The person was dressed in a dark hoodie with the hood up and a black mask covering the bottom part of their face. At least they weren’t completely stupid. Seungmin watched as the figure looked quickly around for a second before pulling out a small handheld tool and lining it up with the bottom right corner. Suddenly the driver’s window shattered and the figure quickly looked around to make sure no one had heard. Seungmin stood there surprised that this figure seemed to know about cars before anger suddenly consumed him. Who does this idiot think they are to steal my car?

Just as you’re carefully clearing the glass out of the window, Seungmin is moving silently as his anger fuels his quiet movements. Just as you’re reaching into the car to unlock it he grabs you by your shoulders and slams you face first into the passenger side door. You groan low in your throat and Seungmin takes pleasure in knowing that he’s caused some pain to you. 

He suddenly flips you around and grabs the bottom portion of your face in his large hand and yanks you forward thinking that the mask will come off with force but it’s a cowl he realizes too late as your whole body follows his movement and you stumble into him. He angrily slams you back into the passenger door and you grunt out in pain before bringing your arms up to bash into his elbow causing him to let go of you.

Seungmin is surprised by the defensive move and he curls his lip in agitation before stepping closer to you with a menacing look on his face. You dart your wide shocked eyes around his face and he suddenly notices the longer eyelashes surrounding them, he frowns darkly before reaching forward as you flinch away from him and he slowly lowers your mask. His breath stutters in his chest as he stares at you in silence.

“You’re a woman.” he says softly and instant regret and guilt fills him. He was a dangerous man but he never would intentionally hurt a woman unless she would do him harm. His eyes dance around your face as your features twist in a scowl before you scoff at him.

“Don’t stop on account of that asshole.” you snip at him and he frowns at your words.

“What are you doing breaking into my car?” he snaps back at you still feeling his anger simmering in the pit of his stomach.

“Your car? What do you mean your car? This is my cheating ex’s car.” you argue and he shakes his head as it all suddenly starts to make sense to him. He rests a hand on either side of your shoulders as he hangs his head with a heavy sigh, of course his night would end like this.

“Sweetheart, this is my car. Not your stupid cheating ex’s car.” he tells you slowly and you frown as you turn your head to look around at the car you’re leant up against.

“You’re lying.” you say softly as your eyes start to widen slightly before you’re pushing one of his arms away and rushing to the back of the car. He follows you slowly and sees you checking the back fenders for something and he scoffs softly.

“I wouldn’t be stupid enough to dirty this beautiful car with a bumper sticker.” he scoffs out and you wave your hand dismissively at him while nodding your head.

“I told him he was stupid for doing it too but he never listened to me or my opinion.” you say without thinking and Seungmin tilts his head to the side as your response. There’s something about you that just captures his attention, it might be the fact that you don’t seem to know or care that you’re in the presence of one of the most violent mafia bosses in the city. “Shit.” you hiss out before you turn and face him and he smirks knowingly at you. 

You have a look of regret on your face before you close your eyes and scrunch your nose up cutely. Seungmin can feel a sense of excitement start to build within him, you now owe him for destroying his car. Mind you it wouldn’t take much for him to replace the car but he didn’t need to tell you that.

“You should've double checked before wrecking my car, sweetheart.” he taunts softly and you scowl at him darkly for a moment before tilting your head from side to side.

“Call it blind rage after finding out that my no good cheating bastard of an ex was sleeping with my best friend for most of our relationship.” you said with a sigh as you let your eyes fall close as your head tilted up towards the sky. Seungmin watches you silently for a moment, he likes how unapologetic you sound at getting caught destroying a car that you thought was your ex’s. “My dad owns a mechanic shop, I’ll get your car fixed for you free of charge.” you suddenly say and Seungmin looks at you surprised as he raises an eyebrow.

“Makes sense why you have that tool now. And that you appreciate the car.” he says softly and you open your eyes to stare at him. Your pretty eyes sparkle at him from where you shift from side to side on your toes looking anxious for him to answer you already. “Do you have somewhere else to be?” he asks finally and you huff at him before flinging your arms out wide.

“Duh idiot. I still have to go find my ex’s car and smash it to bits.” you tell him as if he’s clueless. Seungmin’s breath punches out of his lungs at your honesty and he grins widely as excitement suddenly takes over him. “Look, here’s the card for my Dad’s shop. Give him a call and let him know his daughter sent you and will take care of the work herself.”

“You’re a mechanic?” he asks curiously and you shoot him another dark scowl that has his blood singing within his veins, the fact that you find him annoying and aren’t afraid to show it draws him into you easily. He wants to be around you more, he wants you to scowl at him like he’s a pesky fly buzzing around you. It makes him feel alive.

“With a motorhead Dad who wished he had a son of course I know how to fix a car.” you scoff at him as you walk around him back towards the driver side door. He turns with you so he can keep an eye on you and watches with bated breath as you bend slightly and pick up a wooden bat that you had propped up against the side of the car.

“Do you know who I am?” he asks suddenly as he takes a step after you and you laugh over your shoulder at him.

“The most dangerous man in our city, do I look stupid to you?” you asked him derisively and Seungmin halts at your words as a wicked grin slips onto his face before he’s scrambling to follow you as you begin to walk away with the bat slung over your shoulder.

“Can I help?” he asks as he falls into step beside you. You look over at him and he can’t help but admire your upturned face as you study him for a moment before nodding your head. He feels giddy as he continues to follow you until you come to a stop next to an almost identical car to his own. He notices the garish bumper sticker and scoffs softly at it, idiot.

“Here take my bat for me while I get us in the car.” you tell him without looking at him as you hold your bat out and he easily takes it from you. You walk over to the driver side door and quickly punch out the window. Seungmin looks down at the bat in his hands and his heart soars as his eyes trail across the words ‘Louisville Slugger’ in dark lettering on the side. “C’mon get in loser, we have a car to destroy.” you call out to him and he whips his head up to see you already in the driver’s seat waiting for him to get in. Seungmin smiles darkly as he quickly rushes to the passenger side of the car and climbs into the car.

*-*-*-*

Seungmin watches gleefully as you raise the bat above your head once more and swing it down onto the hood of the car for the fifth time that evening. He’s leaning back against the hood of his car while Nam walks up to him holding a gas can filled with gasoline.

“She’s really done a number on that car huh?” Nam asks softly and Seungmin beams at him as he turns his head to him. Nam hands him the gas can and Seungmin eagerly takes it.

“Idiot deserves it. He cheated on her with her best friend for at least two years. And fucked her best friend in her bed multiple times.” Seungmin explained, he had listened to your story about how your ex and best friend had done wrong by you and you were thirsty for revenge against them now. You had told him that while they were both holed up in the best friend’s apartment you had already blasted their cheating ways all over social media on untraceable accounts that couldn’t be accessed by anyone and would remain up with all the proof for everyone to see. And now you were taking away one of your ex’s most prized possessions, because in your words he didn’t deserve it. And Seungmin agreed with you wholeheartedly, he didn’t understand how someone could cheat on you.

“You like her.” Nam says softly and Seungmin’s grin is uncontrollable as he nods his head once while his eyes follow you around the car as you powerfully swing the bat at the trunk of the car.

“She’s different and I like that.” Seungmin says softly and Nam nods his head before smiling knowingly.

“She won’t make it easy for you.” he tells Seungmin which causes Seungmin to laugh delightedly.

“I wouldn’t want her to.” he confesses softly which has Nam grinning widely at his boss. Seungmin then pushes off from his car and begins walking towards you and the car that you’ve destroyed. You turn and look at him before your eyes catch on the gas can in his hands and your eyes widen with excited delight. Seungmin moves around the car dousing it in gasoline before he comes to stand in front of the car at your side. He slips out one of his many lighters that he owns and holds it out in the palm of his hand. You turn your head to stare at him surprised before you reach out to take it, but Seungmin quickly closes his hand around it causing you to whip your head up at him with a scowl.

“S-” you begin to scold him using the first letter of his name as a pseudo nickname for him, it brings him joy that you’re already speaking to him this way but he smirks down at you as his eyes dance around your face for a moment.

“You’ll get it, but I want something in return.” he says tauntingly and you tilt your head at his words in silent question. “Let me take you out to dinner tonight and every night after.” he says and you smirk up at him before stepping closer to him.

“You want me so bad.” you tease him and he grins down at you as he leans over your body.

“In every way sweetheart.” he husks out which causes a wicked grin to spread across your face.

“Alright, I’ll let you wine and dine me.” you say pompously with a shrug of your shoulders before you hold your palm out waiting for him to give you the lighter. Seungmin smirks at you before slipping the lighter into your palm.

Grinning, you turn your back to him and quickly flick the lighter to life before tossing it onto the hood of the car which has the biggest puddle of gasoline. The puddle of gasoline immediately ignites and Seungmin grins as he hears your soft little squeal of delight before he wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you back against his chest, you’re still holding onto your bat but your free hand comes to lay against his own that are crossed over your stomach.

“Idiot deserves this for not only cheating on you but also because I should be the only one with this type of car.” he grumbles out and you laugh at his pouting tone before you turn in his arms to cup his cheek.

“Aww poor baby, needs to be exclusive for everything huh?” you tease him and he growls low in his throat while dragging flush against him. “Down boy, let’s go eat. I’m starving.” you tell him before tapping his cheek twice and pulling out of his arms to skip over to a waiting Nam who has the passenger door held open for you. Seungmin smirks as he follows you quickly into the backseat of his car. He was suddenly feeling much better about his day and how it was going to end.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (17)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: violence, domination ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

She awoke hearing commotion and guards running outside her chamber; she lifted her eyes lazily and found that it was only dawn. She looked around, noticing that her husband had not yet returned and felt a sense of unease throughout her body, deciding to check what had happened.

"Lyanna!" She called out softly, rising from her bed, walking as she did every morning to the vanity that had been placed in the prince's chamber, so that she could change and comb her hair there as well. She was surprised to find that no one answered her and glanced over her shoulder expectantly, but the door did not open.

She stood up and walked over to them, wanting to look out into the corridor to call her in again. She pulled the handles and froze.

The door was closed.

She felt the cold sweat on her back.

What could have happened?

She began to analyse everything that had happened the evening before.

Her husband had returned to the chamber furious and could not even focus on their intimacy, which always calmed him down.

She knew that something bad had happened and was afraid that both he and she were in danger.

She called out several times to open the door, but nothing had happened.

When half an hour passed and no one spoke or visited her the whole time, she began to panic. She feared that perhaps there had been some sort of coup or betrayal after all that perhaps his half-sister had taken the throne and overtaken the kingdom.

She almost jumped up when she heard the door to the chamber open at last and her husband stepped inside, pale, all tense, looking at her with wide eye, his chest rising and falling in quick breaths. She got up from the bed, approaching him and began to speak quickly, flustered and terrified.

"What's happening? Lyanna's nowhere to be found, they've locked me in here and won't let me leave." She muttered, breathing unevenly, a shudder of surprise and delight ran through her as he caught her cheeks in his hands.

"My father is dead."

She froze at his words, feeling only the loud pounding of her heart, hearing the rumbling in her head. She analysed quickly what he had said, swallowing loudly.

The King was dead.

The times of peace were over.

She wanted to ask him, scared and pale, what was going to happen to them now, what was coming, but what he said made her feel like she was about to faint.

"My mother is going to crown Aegon king. She said that was my father's last wish." He said dispassionately.

She could see by the look on his face, could hear in the tone of his voice how much he despised this decision.

She thought it was impossible and shook her head, furrowing her brows.

His father's last wish?

It sounded like the invention of a desperate mother or a wannabe ruler grandfather who wanted to see his blood on the Iron Throne.

Her grandfather had sworn to King Viserys to accept his first-born daughter as his heir.

She was a traitor then.

Seeing her disbelief and despair he pressed his forehead to hers, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs, the tenderness of these gestures and her simultaneous horror made her feel a variety of emotions at once.

There was something frightening and dark in his gaze that made her unable to look away from him.

"Will you stand by me? Will you be faithful and devoted to me?" He asked, his voice trembling in excitement.

Will you stand by me?

Will you be faithful and devoted to me?

Not towards the Queen.

Not towards the King.

Not towards the Crown.

Towards him.

She felt something going on in his mind, had felt it from the moment she first saw him.

There was a kind of voracious thirst inside him, a hunger that could not be satisfied.

She tried to tell herself that it wasn't true, that he only wanted her to be devoted to his family and to him, her husband. She drowned out any disturbing thoughts in her soul, casting them aside, locking them in a tight case and casting them into the abyss of her heart.

She lifted her fingers and gently touched his cheek where his scar had been. He closed his eye, savouring her touch, full of emotion.

Her husband.

She nodded, and he kissed her greedily, surprising her completely, his swollen lips pressing against her again and again with a wet, sticky click, his hands refusing to let her move away. Driven by the desire he always aroused in her, she entwined her hands in his hair, deepening the kiss, both of them sighing as the tips of their tongues licked each other, making a shiver run through them.

He pulled away after a moment, looking at her dreamily, thoughtfully, as if he had drifted off to his own dark fantasies deep in his heart, and ran his fingers over her cheek, making her tremble all over.

"Don't speak to anyone about the king's death or coronation. Do not confide in anyone. Trust only me." He whispered quietly and she nodded, surrendering to him completely, wanting him to know that she was fully devoted to him, as she always was. He hummed with satisfaction seeing this, stroking her chin.

"Such a good girl." He muttered the praise.

She blushed at the words that he so often made use of towards her in bed every time she gave him the pleasure that he craved.

He lowered his hand, sighing heavily, his face grew softer, his gaze eased, as if he had suddenly returned to reality. He put his hands behind his back and straightened up, looking at her.

"I have to leave for a while. Unfortunately, my mother has ordered you to stay indoors, but I promise it's temporary. Someone will bring your morning meal in a moment and help you change." He said and turned, leaving her with a look on her face full of uncertainty and terror. He knocked on the door and the guards opened it for him, locking the door behind him.

She sat back on the bed, feeling that her legs were soft like cotton wool, trying to calm the trembling of her hands, her heart was pounding like crazy, she could feel the cold sweat running down her back.

Never before in her life had she felt so terrified.

She knew that if Aegon were to be crowned, it would mean civil war for the whole kingdom, including them. She obviously had to side with her husband, but what about her father?

She bit her lower lip at the thought, knowing that the prince had driven him to fury and despair with his decision about taking her away from him.

He had sworn his army to the King with the intention of marriage, but if it was now unclear who was to rule the kingdom, who would he side with?

She thought Princess Rhaenyra would not leave it like that.

That she would call them traitors and begin rallying her allies.

She began to quickly analyse who they could have on their side, what the balance of power looked like.

Her mother came from House Arryn, all the Vale would surely side with her.

The Starks had never broken their oaths, so she could assume the whole north would follow them.

The Lannisters, with their power in the stronghold, would surely support Aegon, too afraid for their positions as would Harrenhal under the rule of the crippled Lord Strong.

She realised then with horror that the person deciding how evenly matched this battle could be would be her father, and swallowed loudly at the thought. She covered her face with her hands, sighing heavily.

She thought of the Queen as a wise, warm, compassionate woman.

How could she want to crown a drunkard and rapist?

She felt disgusted at the thought.

She shuddered when she heard the lock turn and one of the Queen's servants came in; she brought her meal and said that she would help her change her clothes. She nodded and let her do her duty, while trying to get anything out of her. The woman, however, remained silent as if under a spell.

She turned over her shoulder, startled, while the servant was just tying the sleeves to her buff brown gown, when Criston Cole stepped into her chamber. He bowed before her and grunted quietly.

"The Queen wishes to see you in the Small Council chamber." He said calmly and she raised an eyebrow, shocked.

What could this have been about?

The Queen wanted to make sure which side she was on?

She felt her heart pounding hard.

"Of course. I'll join you right away." She said, forcing herself to be calm, and nodded to the servant to hurry.

When she stepped out of her husband's chamber Ser Criston was waiting for her, apparently tasked with escorting her to her destination. They walked side by side in silence.

She always felt some kind of sympathy and support from him.

"Do not fret, my Lady." He said, opening the door for her.

She froze for a moment in complete shock, seeing a dozen people sitting at a table and standing around it, discussing something. They all cast a glance in her direction as soon as the door closed behind her, Ser Criston stood back, folding his arms behind him.

She was relieved to see the figure of her husband sitting beside his mother with his legs crossed, his hand outstretched on the table, his fingers moving restlessly, in his gaze an expectancy and intensity from which she grew hot.

Be devoted only to me.

At the very head of the table sat the Queen, still not dressed properly for her status, her hair loose. She saw Lord Lannister, the measter and Otto Hightower sitting at the Queen's right hand, a thoughtful Helaena, and Aegon, who had bruises on his face and looked as if a herd of horses had run over him.

The future King, she thought with pity and disgust.

She walked closer to the table, the queen smiling faintly, comfortingly, nodding at her. A map was spread out in front of them and tall figures of various houses placed on it; in one of them she recognised a deer and swallowed loudly.

"Come closer, my love, don't be afraid. We are just discussing what we should conceive after the death of our beloved King. We are preparing for Aegon's coronation, but also to secure our kingdom against the resistance of Princess Rhaenyra. I wish you and my son to fly to Storm's End after the Prince's coronation to remind your father of his arrangements with the King." The Queen said softly, but she felt a tightening in her stomach at her words.

Her father was not a dog that came running when called.

She placed her hands on the table, leaning over it slightly, looking at the maps and figures spread out before her.

"My husband cannot accompany me if my father is to support Prince Aegon." She said calmly, yet felt her whole body tense up, her heart pounding like mad.

She lifted her gaze and saw that everyone was looking at her with startled, uncertain eyes, her husband's hand clenched into a fist, she saw his warning, concerned, shocked look. Otto laughed heartily, as if she had said something silly.

"My Lady, forgive me, but this is ridiculous. A lady should not present matters of war to a mature men." He said in a rather sympathetic voice, full of disapproval and indulgence, Lord Lannister chuckled at his words, nodding, which frustrated her incredibly.

She thought with rage that they knew nothing of her or her father.

"My father believes that my husband took me from my household against his will. He has no affection for him and will not welcome the sight of him. However, I can convince him. He is fond of me, I am his youngest child. He will listen to me, but in solitude, in a conversation between daughter and father, not between Prince and Lord." She said coldly, looking down at him.

There was complete silence all around her, a few people twisting restlessly in their chairs. She glanced quickly at the expression on his husband's face, but saw that he had lowered his gaze, tapping his fingers on the table top.

"My wife is right." He finally said to the surprise of everyone, including her.

"I defied his will in his own stronghold and I suspect that he still hasn't forgiven me for it. It would be better for me to fly to Winterfell on Vhagar, to show the people of the North who have never seen a dragon what the real power looks like." He said, finally lifting his gaze to her, intense and sure. She felt heat in her chest at the thought of him, supporting her publicly in front of other men.

Trust only me.

The Queen nodded, sighing quietly.

"Yes, that's what we'll do. It will be good for the daughter to be the one to speak to her father and gently present the matter to him. Ser Cristion, how are the preparations for Prince Aegon's coronation proceeding?" She asked, intertwining her hands in front of her, Aegon laughed under his breath at her words, running his hand over his face, as if he himself could not believe what was happening.

"This is some kind of fucking farce." He said finally, smiling sleepily, she could smell the stench of the alcohol that he had drunk that night from a distance. She saw her husband turn his head away at his words, impatient, the Queen only clenched her eyes, sighing.

"Aegon…" She began quietly, almost warmly. "… be silent."

Then everything happened in a flash. She didn't even have time to speak with her husband about what had happened until they sit together in the carriage that was supposed to take them to the Great Sept.

"The Sea Snake. Who will he support? His fleet has the power to crush us." She said horrified by everything that was happening, clasping her hands on her lap, trying to stop them from trembling. Her husband looked at her impassively, his gaze piercing to the core.

"We're keeping his wife locked up. As far as I know, she is not indifferent to him. I, if I were him, would hold off on any sudden decisions." He said lowly, looking out of the window, watching the frightened people and simpletons forcibly herded like cattle into the Great Sept. She swallowed loudly at his words, not speaking again, sinking into her own doubts and fears.

When they arrived, they entered the temple through a back entrance with the entire retinue and guard, the Queen, Ser Criston, Otto and Helaena already waiting on the great podium. She swallowed loudly, bowing before them and after a moment the main gates were opened, the bewildered people of King's Landing who had no idea what was happening began to walk inside.

She watched the sight with a tightened throat, all stiff, feeling her hands trembling and she looked at her husband.

He stood beside her like a stone, it seemed to her as if he had frozen, only a slight gust of wind from outside occasionally blew his hair away.

He was with his thoughts somewhere deep inside himself, in that dark, black abyss that frightened her so much.

She wanted to touch him, to comfort him with her body, to make him come back to her, but she knew that was impossible now.

She shuddered as loud trumpet sounds rang out all around her, the guards formed a corridor for the future king to pass through.

She saw him emerge, pale, wearing all black, the great mark of House Targaryen on his chest.

She pressed her lips together at the sight, feeling it hard to breathe.

Traitors.

They were all traitors.

Aegon looked like he was going to be beheaded, not crowned, and she had a feeling that everyone standing around her felt the same way.

They were just about to make a fool, a drunkard and a rapist king of the Seven Kingdoms and they were all watching, doing nothing to stop this madness.

Aegon stepped onto the podium and the Septon approached him, applying holy oil to his forehead, giving him a blessing from the gods.

She thought, looking at it that what was happening before her eyes was blasphemy and sacrilege.

How was she to persuade her father to support them in the coming war, if she herself did not believe that what was happening was right?

She pressed her lips into a thin line as Ser Criston approached a servant holding Aegon the Conqueror's crown on a large cushion and took it in his hands, walking up to the Prince. She watched with a clenched heart, heavy and stony, as he placed it on his head.

Traitors.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye at her husband and his sister; she looked away from her brother-husband, clearly also unable to watch this derogatory sight. However, her husband was staring directly at his brother, at what was on his head with a gaze that horrified her.

Only now, seeing his ravenous stare did she understand what his dark, maddening dream, which he had miserably tried to hide from her was directed at.

The crown.

Her husband wanted to be a King.

She felt a cold sweat on the back of her neck at the mere thought, at the idea that their war was about to be waged against everyone.

Will you stand by me?

Will you be faithful and devoted to me?

She felt tears under her eyelids, her body began to tremble in terror from realising the thought so clearly; Aegon raised his sword high, the assembled people roared suddenly in joy, clapping and chanting his name.

"Aegon II! Aegon II! Aegon II!"

She felt a single tear leave the corner of her eye, running slowly down her cheek, her lips parted in shaky breath, her hands clenched on her stomach as she watched the scene.

He wanted her to take the throne with him or to fall into the darkness altogether.

"Aegon II! Aegon II! Aegon II!"

The words of her father, which he had once said to her as he sat with his back to her by the fireplace after putting down one of the rebellions on behalf of King Viserys, roared in her head.

When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die.

Suddenly, all she heard was a scream, the ground shook beneath them as if hell itself had opened up to consume them. She watched in disbelief as a great beast emerged before her and felt like laughing, thinking that the gods had brought punishment upon them for their attempts, for their deed, for what they had just tried to do.

She felt her husband stepping forward in front of her, pushing her back with his arm, terrified but still upright, proud, looking straight into the eyes of the beast.

The dragon.

When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die.

Her lips parted as she caught sight of a barely visible figure on the dragon's back.

Rhaenys Targaryen.

The bump of her heart.

She thought that they were all about to burn in the fires of her anger.

Bump.

Fire and blood.

Bump.

When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die.

The dragon's mouth opened, but no fire burst from it. Instead, they felt a powerful, terrifying roar, which made her whole body tremble, shivers run through her whole body. And then the great monster turned around and with a light leap flew through the front entrance, folding its wings and unfolding them back as he flew outwards.

She watched, clenching her hand painfully tight on her husband's arm, trembling all over, as its figure moved slowly away, disappearing into the sky. She felt that her body was just going through some kind of inner death, which, however, did not sufficiently reach her loins.

She knew where she had flown to.

Dragonstone.

They were all traitors.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics

[smilingformoney]

Three Secrets

Summary: Hans Gruber x reader | smut | You're a member of Hans Gruber's gang of thieves, and when you take the blame for another's betrayal, Hans grants your last request.

Or: you get fucked violently by Hans, and then you die.

I watched Die Hard, got horny, and this is the result.

Dedicated to @snowblossomreads, who so lovingly enables my thirst for this dead old man.

Warnings/content: smut, dubcon, gun kink, all your holes get penetrated (yes even that one)

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

“Who warned die Polizei?!” Hans roared as he returned to the safehouse, panting and out of breath, his tie askew. When there was no answer from his fellow thieves, he roared in anger and smashed his fists on the table, causing the carefully-stacked Marks to collapse into piles and scatter across the floor.

“I WANT A NAME!”

The thieves began staring at each other suspiciously, agitated by the news of a betrayal and - although they’d never admit it - frightened of Hans’ anger.

With a sudden BANG!, Hans shot down the man nearest him. Probably not the rat, and certainly a good thief - but Hans was angry, and he wanted to punish someone.

You stood up immediately.

“It was me,” you lied.

It wasn’t you, of course it wasn’t. You would never betray your friends. But you also couldn’t sit there and watch Hans take his anger out on them.

The barrel of the gun met the underside of your chin, and you closed your eyes as you steeled yourself for the shot…

But it didn’t come. You dared to open your eyes, and you were met with Hans’ fiery gaze, his face dripping with sweat, a nasty snarl on his face.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t pull the trigger, Schlampe,” he growled.

You knew of a thousand reasons. You weren’t the rat; you were an asset to the team; you liked being alive. But Hans cared about none of those - all he wanted was to sate his anger.

“Do I get a last request?”

Hans’ eyes narrowed, then he chuckled darkly. “Perhaps,” he replied. “What is it?”

“Schlampe, you called me. I am no slut, Hans. No man here has touched me. No man has ever touched me.”

Hans laughed and turned to his men. “Do you hear that, boys? Die Schlampe wants to be fucked before she dies!”

The men laughed, far too many of them looking at you with hunger.

“I don’t want them!” you insisted as you stepped closer to Hans, the barrel of his gun digging deeper into your flesh. “I don’t even want to be fucked. What I want… is to suck your cock.”

As soon as the words left your lips, the men gathered went feral, cheering and whooping, shouting out words of encouragement to Hans. He, meanwhile, seemed merely amused.

After a pause, he grabbed you by the shoulder, spun you around, and marched you out of the room, gun pressed firmly against the small of your back. Wordlessly, he guided you through the house, leaving behind the wooting animals that called themselves men, and once he reached his bedroom, he pushed you inside and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Turn around slowly,” he said in a low, menacing voice, one that struck fear in most, but for you it only sent a rush of arousal through your body.

When finally you could see him again, Hans’ eyes were alight with danger, desire and anger. So long as that gun was trained on you, you knew any moment could be your last, even if your mouth was full of his cock - and, shit, you hoped it would be soon.

“So the little virgin wants to suck my cock, does she?”

He gestured at her body with his gun.

“Take those off. I don’t want any hidden tricks.”

Sure. That was why he wanted you to strip.

You pulled your t-shirt over your head, and Hans licked his lips when his gaze landed on your chest. Next you slipped off your shoes, then the rest of your clothing, leaving you in nothing but your bra and knickers.

Hans raised his eyebrows. “Did I tell you to stop?”

You had hoped to at least keep some of your dignity before your last meal, but this was Hans Gruber you were dealing with. He never did anything in halves.

You reached behind your back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your shoulders, then hooked your thumbs under your waistband to push your knickers to the floor.

And that was how you found yourself stark naked in Hans Gruber’s room, staring down the barrel of his gun, not daring to break eye contact with him, no matter how desperate you were to see if he was aroused.

“Show me your technique first, Schlampe. Open.”

You obeyed, and panic shot through your heart when the barrel of his gun - safety most definitely off - slid past your lips and threatened to choke you as it passed over your tongue and settled at the back of your mouth.

“Well?” Hans prompted. “I’m waiting.”

Of course he had a fucking gun kink.

You tried to ignore the metallic taste as you began to move your head back and forth, ever so slightly, trying not to get too close to the trigger. What a way to die this would be.

“Will you suck my cock with this little passion, Y/N? It is your last request, after all. You’re supposed to enjoy it.”

Bastard. Sadist. Psychopath.

You hadn’t been lying; you really hadn’t been with a man before. How were you supposed to show him your cocksucking technique on a gun when you had never even practised on the real thing?

You closed your eyes, hoping it would help you to pretend the barrel was a dick. You tightened your lips around it, telling yourself it was the most delicious thing you’d ever tasted, that it tasted like flesh and sweat, not metal and gunpowder…

You could hear Hans breathing heavily, alongside the sound of a belt unbuckling. You chanced a glimpse, and when you saw his other hand sliding under his waistband, you let you an involuntary moan.

He grinned, looking like a devil as he palmed himself under his boxers, finger far too close to the trigger of the loaded gun you were currently allowing him to fuck your mouth with. Because he was, he had taken over the movement, and while one hand rubbed up against his cock, the other pulled the gun from your mouth, only to send it back in violently, and you grunted with pain as the metal tip collided with the roof of your mouth.

“I could pull the trigger at any moment,” Hans said, speaking aloud the very fear that sat at the forefront of your mind. “You would die sucking my gun, wishing it was my cock, dead before you knew what was happening. How does that sound, Schlampe?”

Fuck. He was asking you a question, and still he was thrusting his gun into your mouth; you were sure he would leave a bruise.

Not that a bruised mouth would matter soon, once you were dead.

Hans suddenly pulled the gun from your mouth, switched on the safety and returned it to the holster on his hip. You gasped for air, glad to be free of the metallic taste and the imminent threat of your head exploding.

He placed his hand on your head and pushed down, forcing you to your knees as he pulled his cock from the confines of his boxers, and you couldn’t help but stare.

You always knew Hans had big dick energy. Now you knew he had the size to match.

“I will show you mercy,” he decided. “You’ll get my cock… and maybe I’ll blow your brains out with my cock down your throat.” He held his erect cock to your lips, and instinctively they parted to allow him in.

Fuck, he was big. Too big; you thought the gun might have been more comfortable. It may have been cold and metallic, and ready to blow your brains out at any moment, but at least you could breathe. As Hans pushed further past your lips and over your tongue, you felt the muscles in your jaw protesting as you stretched them out as far as they could go.

His tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged. If Hans noticed, he didn’t care. Tears began to fill your eyes, and through your watery vision you could see that he was hardly even halfway in.

Hans grabbed either side of your head with his hands and tilted your head upwards, forcing you to look at him.

“So full, and I’m hardly even in,” he growled. “Now, are you going to just stare at me, Schlampe, or are you going to suck. my. fucking. cock?”

You decided to go with the latter.

You tried to pull your head back slightly, but Hans’ large, strong hand on the back of your head kept you in place.

What were you supposed to do? He wanted you to suck, but he clearly didn’t want you to move back. That only left forward, but you rather enjoyed breathing.

Ah, but you had another option - your tongue. At the moment, it was flattened uselessly under his cock, but perhaps you could - yes! You managed to loosen it slightly, just enough to allow it to slide along his shaft. You hadn’t realised before how veiny cocks were, but you certainly knew now as you traced a line along one that ran from the head, down the underside, and past your lips. Curious, you raised a hand to the rest of him and gently ran your thumb from your lip, tracing the vein all the way to the base, where it was lost in amongst his pubic hair, which was surprisingly coarse, much coarser than your own.

Somewhere above you, Hans hummed with satisfaction, and you hoped you were doing well. If you weren’t, you supposed you would know by the prod of a gun in your temple.

You stuck your tongue out as far as you could past your lips, then retracted it. You followed the movements of your own tongue with your lips, and you were relieved when Hans allowed you to do so, his hand on your head loosening its grip slightly as he allowed you to pull back until you felt his lip threatening to pass your lips. You were just about to go back in when Hans decided to take control of the situation - as if he weren’t in control already - and, twisting your hair in his hand tightly, he tugged your head back towards him. The movement was so sudden, so violent, that your gag reflex had no time to kick in, and this time you found your nose buried in his hairs, his thick cock gliding down your lubricated throat.

Before you had chance to adjust to your new position, Hans began to violently fuck your mouth - or, more accurately, he fucked himself with your mouth, as his hips were perfectly still, whilst his fist in your hair tossed your head back and forth, leaving you in a whirlwind of pain as he tugged on your scalp, choked you with his cock, and stretched your jaw beyond what you’d ever expected possible.

Your eyes flicked up, and through your streaming tears you could see him, staring down at you with a hungry snarl. Sweat began to drip down from your temple – whether from exhaustion or fear, you were unsure. You were terrified, you were in agony, you were suffocating… and you were undeniably turned on.

“Mhm… a perfect mouth for fucking,” Hans growled as he wiped a tear from your cheek before bringing it to his mouth and sucking it off his thumb as if it was the nectar of the gods. “Such a shame to waste it.”

Naively, a hope rose in your heart - perhaps, if you were good enough for him, he would spare your life after all, punish you by making you into his personal cockslave. It wasn’t exactly the life you craved, but it was life.

Suddenly, your lungs filled with air as you instinctively inhaled deeply, your body reacting before your mind had even the chance to process what had happened - his sudden withdrawal from your mouth, leaving you a simpering, drooling, gasping mess.

His hand still in your hair, Hans tugged you to your feet. You winced in pain, although you were glad to be breathing freely again.

Your heels had hardly touched the carpeted floor, however, when Hans threw you violently back. The pain in your scalp was replaced by pain in your calves as they collided with the bedframe just moments before your back hit the mattress, and you let out an oof as the air was forced from your lungs.

You gasped desperately, and once you were finally in a state to look up, you saw that Hans had removed his jacket and tie, and was in the process of removing his shoes. Even in his carnal state, he took the time to neatly fold his clothes. This gave you the chance to recover, however briefly, and you adjusted yourself on the bed, finding a more comfortable position with your head against the pillows.

You’d seen Hans’ body before - just last summer, a particularly lucrative job had allowed the gang enough funds to holiday in the south of France, and it was there, seeing Hans in nothing but a pair of swimming trunks, that you had developed an attraction to the man.

You had even seen his arse once, after a drinking game dare from Karl resulted in Hans mooning ein Polizist from a moving car.

And, of course, you had seen his cock just now. But you’d never before seen him completely naked – until now.

He crawled over you like a panther on a hunt, and you fully expected him to continue until his throbbing cock slid into your mouth so that he could fuck your head into the pillow.

Instead, he stopped as his hungry grin reached level with your own lips, and he ran his tongue along them testingly. You parted your lips obligingly, and he chuckled.

“Two years you’ve been with us now, Y/N,” he mused. “Two years that perfectly fuckable mouth has been in front of me and I did nothing. It’s only now, after you seal your fate, that your true talents are revealed. Pity.”

You were tempted to offer your mouth to him, to offer him every hole to be taken whenever he liked, so long as he kept you alive. But that would be begging, and Hans abhorred beggars. No, he had to come to the idea himself.

“How many other secrets are you keeping from me, Schlampe?” Hans growled. He shifted his weight back slightly and for the first time you realised he held his tie in his hand. He grabbed your wrists, crossed them over one another above your head, and used the tie to secure them to the headboard. Once satisfied with the tight knot, he began to run his hands down your body, starting from your face and down your neck towards your chest, as if challenging himself to touch every inch of your flesh before it turned cold.

He took your nipples between his fingers and twisted them harshly, eliciting a loud yelp from your throat.

“I asked you a question,” Hans said plainly. “How many secrets do you still keep?”

Was he seriously interrogating you right now? Was that what this whole thing was, just a way to torture information from you?

Information you didn’t have, because you weren’t the rat.

You had to draw his attention away, to remind him what a waste your death would be.

“Two,” you gasped as an idea struck your brain. “I have two more secrets.”

“Only two?”

You nodded, trying to suppress a whine as his fingers squeezed on your nipples again.

He surveyed you for a long moment, his amber eyes staring into yours, as if hoping he might find some hidden information in there.

“It would be a shame if your secrets died with you,” he growled. He sat up fully now, and his cock came back into view, still erect, throbbing and glistening in the light with a mixture of precum and your spit.

He let out a sigh of relief as he stroked himself, his eyes never leaving your squirming form beneath him. With his spare hand, he pushed open your legs, tugging on your hips to bring them close to him. You took the hint and wrapped your legs around his waist, presenting your soaking wet cunt to him.

“Will you tell me your secrets before you die, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you replied immediately, understanding his meaning.

“Good. I would hate to take the from you by force.”

You felt his cockhead pushing against your lower lips, then past them, then – it slipped inside, aided by your gushing juices.

Hans gave you no time to adjust. If he remembered you were a virgin, he didn’t care as he sheathed himself inside you, cock crawling up your tight walls, forcing them to stretch open for him.

You bit down on your bottom lip hard, trying to ignore the pain as he finally bottomed out. He barely gave your walls a chance to adjust to his size when he withdrew again, only to thrust forward again. He was nothing short of stabbing you with his cock, venting his anger at your apparent betrayal.

His thrusts picked up pace, and soon enough the pain had subsided, leaving only the pleasure.

And oh, what pleasure. Was this what you had been missing out on for so long? You had never dared make a move on Hans, never dared risk his anger if your proposal angered him. You wished you had made a move, that you had spent the better part of the last two years getting railed.

What a wish to make on your deathbed.

If you weren’t already busy moaning with pleasure, you might have laughed.

This was your deathbed, quite literally – and you were getting fucked into it like there was no tomorrow, because for you, there wasn’t.

Hans not only had a massive cock, but he had incredible stamina too. He pulled out, and you weren’t ashamed of the whine that left your throat when he did so, leaving you feeling suddenly empty. His cock was throbbing, almost twitching, and leaking so much precum it seemed as if he might cum just from a change in the wind.

He wouldn’t, though. Of course not. He was Hans Gruber, and he came only when he chose.

He made no clever pun about secrets now. He just took your hips in his large hands and turned you over, ignoring your grunt of pain as your wrists rubbed against your bonds.

He also ignored the veritable scream of pain you let out when he stretched open your arsecheeks and pushed inside your final hole, the last secret you hadn’t known you were keeping from him.

You sobbed into the pillow. You couldn’t help it. Although painful at first, his cock felt good in your cunt, the stretch painful but pleasurable too. This, however, was nothing but pain.

Any hopes you might have had of your own orgasm were now dashed. You felt nothing but pain as Hans stabbed into you again and again, and over your own sobs you heard him, growling and muttering something to himself under his breath.

“Dumme verdammte Schlampe,” you heard. “I’ll teach you - oh, I will fucking show you - you don’t - keep - secrets - from - me!”

He stilled suddenly, hilted deep inside your arse, and Hans let out nothing short of a roar.

Your head was dizzy, the world spinning, and you continued sobbing into the pillow as Hans finally withdrew. You couldn’t move, you just lay there on your front, covered in sweat, tears, and - although you couldn’t see to be sure - blood and cum leaking from both your holes. Even so, you missed Hans’ warmth when he moved away from the bed.

After a minute, water began to run from the bathroom. Five more minutes, and the water stopped. Some movement and shuffling of fabric. Still, you didn’t move, too stiff with pain.

You certainly didn’t move when you heard the cocking of a gun, and you felt the barrel pushing against the base of your skull.

“Any more secrets?”

Your hopes were dashed. He wasn’t going to spare you after all. No, he had just fucked you raw, and now he wanted what he had always wanted - the truth. To him, you were a rat, not to be trusted and certainly not to be spared.

The truth, you knew, would get you nowhere.

So you lied.

“Nein,” you mumbled, face still smushed against the pillow. You daren’t move.

Somewhere above you, Hans sighed.

“A shame,” he muttered.

It really was a shame. Those were nice bedsheets, ruined now with her blood…

…and her brains.

[sculptorofcrimson]

Down With His Throne

Synopsis: Traitor Valdor, and his endless hunt. His endless hate, for the Shards of his master. Relations: Aquilans x f! Shard A/N: Essentially traitor Valdor trying to kill the Shard, and his musings on his loathing of all Shards of his master.

They know better by now than to let him go.

They know he feeds from fear. Whose fear? Theirs? No, the Custodes do not fear. From Him. From the tip of the Apollonian Spear.

He hates them. He loathes them. He loathes those that wear his master's face like a crown, bearing His resemblance, bearing His glory. Does He not belong to him? Does his glorious servant not have the right to His bones, when there is nothing left of Him? Why should he not reclaim what is rightfully his, rightfully meant for the greatest of the Ten Thousand, why should some pitiable, worthless mortal earn what should have been granted to him? To him to safeguard, to protect, and to fervently worship?

Siphoning memories blow by blow, if only to tear out the last shreds of his lord's sharded soul, if only to drink up His cries and hear 'Oh, Constantin' one last time, even if it's spoken in rage and pain instead of in praise, even if it leaves him broken and aching and so utterly alone afterwards, even if it leaves the traitor that was Valdor wallowing in the misery of his own betrayal. 

Sometimes he kills them in the middle of a life, in the middle of a laugh, a cry, or a sob. He kills them in the middle of being human, a sniper's bullet through the skull or a sudden poison leaked into their goblet. The greatest of the Emperor's assassins, having gone against his vows. Quick deaths never grant him many memories. He never feels alive after those, but he also never feels pain from a quick kill. In the scant moments he feels human, the weight of his betrayal finally sinks in and he knows despair, he knows pain and hate and vicious denial until the obsessions and the heartlessness sinks in again and he feels nothing at all, not even despair at what he had become.

It was Horus' poisoned gift to him. The Archtraitor's greatest and final laugh. Enough mind to be human, yet not enough to care.

His brothers will try to stop him. Sometimes they almost succeed. Havadur Csarthal. That fool. He saved her, the seventh shard, he dove in front of the Apollonian Spear's blade and held Valdor down with the dying remnants of his corpse as the Emperor's newest incarnation fled from his blade, he had gazed Death in the eye and spat in its face. He had refused to scream as the Apollonian Spear flayed him skin from flesh, slow and deathly quiet, refusing to cry out and bring more brothers to the same site of his death even when he could see the red glimmers of their eye lens, even when he knew if he screamed, they would undoubtedly dive down and try to save him. And so he had refused to even cry out as he was bled by a thousand small nicks of the Apollonian blade, he refused to scream as Valdor tore every last shred of a life from his mind and drank up the ragged humanity remaining in his marrow. He had saved his charge, he had saved her for the price of himself and the price of dying a slow, ignoble death without even pity, and it was enough. For an Aquilan Shield that sacrificed himself, it was enough.

He was the first of many Aquilans.

The Siegebreaker, the Traitor Captain, the First of the Custodes, he had done his utmost to make sure Csarthal died a heartless, ignoble, merciless death. That he died, worthless, screaming into the hollow void. He turned his grave into a traitor, he made sure his name would be remembered with nothing but scorn and loathing, he made sure to betray his name in death as he had never betrayed in life. Scorned, loathed, shunned for consorting with the First of the Ten Thousand, one of the many Custodes who stood idly by as he lowered the blade. Havadur Csarthal would be remembered with no more kindness than the Companions that had still bowed, reverent, obedient, when he had first betrayed them all, when he had lowered the walls and shields of the Imperial Palace and broke the Siege of Terra with traitor hands. When he alone had broken the Palace's walls, and welcomed in Horus' hordes.

His sacrifice had robbed Valdor of his kill. He will bleed all traces of honor from his death. No light, no rest, and no mercy. The Custodes will remember him as nothing but an incompetent fool, without a single trace of success, dying a voiceless demise at a traitor's hand. And should she ever call out in disgrace, swearing her bodyguard had died to save her, the shard would have to break the vow of silence her beloved Aquilan had died to maintain.

If he still had the ability to enjoy such cruel ironies, he would have smiled at such bitter humor. It was their ugly secret, between him and her alone, known to them both how he had truly died, but if she wished to tell the golden the truth, he would know. He would know she had lived after all, and the golden would hunt her down, both the Traitor and his loyal brothers, they would hunt her down and this time he would be truly sure that Csarthal Havadur's sacrifice had meant nothing. Nothing at all. 

He believed that one shard would live, sneaking away onto an Agriworld where she had cast away her laurels and lived quietly. She would fall in love with a Commissar, and pass away peacefully in her sleep at the ripe age of three hundred and seventy two, surrounded by her great-grandchildren. 

That secret had died with her. Only he knew, and as of his words, none would tell. None would see the scar Havadur had clawed into his back, none would hear how he had roared as the Aquilan clung on with a dying man's embrace and screamed at his charge to run, to run from the beast that was once a glorious captain. To run, and never once look back upon them both. None would know he had died resolutely, without even uttering a scream, as the Apollonian Spear wrenched free from soft tissues and tangled bones, its edge now dull from hacking through auramite. 

In the grand scheme of things, Aquilan's sacrifice had truly meant nothing. Nothing at all.

But sometimes they would fail to stop him. 

Sometimes he would catch one alone, away from their bodyguards, away from their guns and their knives and their spears. He could lure them away, with such cold, cold determination, Apollonian Spear swinging, ticking, pawing at the earth beneath his feet like a pendulum as he waits, and wanders, waiting for the shard to fall. The spear blade occasionally dipping, accidentally slicing through the ragged silk of his tabard or through the chains wandering over his armor, nicking his armor just enough to reawaken images of the previous owners of his auramite, just enough to dream of the past before the blade swings back, waiting, waiting. Waiting for them to stumble, stagger, finally tumbling to a halt. Watching that beautiful, golden light of his lord's reincarnation finally die out, that love of humanity stamped to ash and bone when they realize the Aquilans can't save them. When they call out, and hear nothing back. 

Those ones die in languish silence, without even a word. Dying thinking they were betrayed, dying entombed on a throne, thinking they were never truly loved enough. Thinking they were abandoned, left to die by the Aquilans when the Yellow King caught them in his grasp, dying in his arms as he drank and tore the memories of his master from their bones. The cold, almost joyous revelation from each sip of his lord's memories he steals, dreaming of Him through His corpse, sinking in His love, if only for a moment, if only for a sweet, addictive taste of ichor leaking from a single shard's broken corpse. Just enough to keep him dreaming, make him feel human for once, before it is gone and the last light of his lord trickles away from truly shattered remnants and he casts them aside, wandering on, always moving, never returning. 

Always onto the next one, with just enough madness left in him to head on to the next, and the next, and the next. It is the hunt that must never end, the thirst that will never be quenched. The True Blood Games, played out through an arena without walls and without boundaries, where the only prize was his master's skull, cracked open and leaking time over his bloodstained palms. Lapping up the dregs of His dreams, inhaling His humanity and His love, basking in His stolen radiance before it fades and he digs deeper, slices further, bleeds the shards more and more just for a taste of His dream. Just for a little more, a little more of His love that the fallen captain will never feel again.

Sometimes they sacrifice themselves. Sometimes, they die meaningless, worthless deaths. Sacrificing themselves in a vain illusion of glory. Valdor crushed those ones down, cutting into them with no less steel than if they were lambs. Sometimes, he whispers the true uselessness of their sacrifice in their ear when he sinks in the Apollonian Spear and drinks in the tattered soul-weave of his master. He speaks to them of how he lied to them, how he promised to spare so and so if they would surrender. How he promised, but how he lied, how he had no concept of honor and no concept of denial, and when they finally perished, he shall have no concept of honor either. They sacrificed themselves, they died, and it was worth nothing in the end. Not even a few seconds of respite from his blade.

And sometimes the shards don't even die. He cripples them, he leaches perfection from their bones, he strips away the very core that had His essence intertwined, and leaves the broken, rotting mess behind. Unable to walk, to move, to even weep, stripped away of all that made them live. A husk, without even a soul, or a mind, or a memory. No past, no future, just a silent, sobbing ghost, broken so utterly beyond repair. The living dead, haunting the Aquilans. A corpse staring them in the eye and begging for death, a mewling corpse with their heart torn out and crushed beneath golden boots, just like what He did to him. Just like how He took his dreams and crushed them, and now he shall deal unto His shards as He has dealt upon him. How he tears out their core and laps up the fragments of the Emperor, and leaves nothing but ghosts behind.

Nothing. Nothing left of him now. Not even enough left to hate.

When the rush of exultation fades, it leaves nothing behind. Not even a shallow pain, not even a sorrowful keening, simply an voracious ache, a hollow so empty not even despair could fill it. It was the cries of a long-broken heart finally imploding under its own weight, crying out for justice and finding nothing back. It was a body built to be loved by a god, built to throw itself on the altar of sacrifice, now starved of the one thing that had made its life worth living. When the once-doting hand had turned striking, when he could no longer lap adoration from the hand of his king, he learned to lick it off of His fingerbones. He learned to chew it off of the scraps of His skin and gnaw open marrow for the scraps of His essence, for the split, scant moments of joy, of purpose, in a life devoid of all else. When He had starved him of all that had made him worth existing in the first place, what else was there but to scrabble uselessly, to tear away dregs of His dream, just for the split moment of being loved? Of feeling loyal, even once, when you know you have betrayed Him beyond even death itself?

He had betrayed the Emperor once. He will do so again. 

Sometimes, he can actually lure them away. The eight shard fell to deception. Promise him so sweetly that he'll seek redemption, promise him that His favored servant surely couldn't leave Him forever? Surely he'll see the light, if only he'll let him in, if only he'll promise not to scream, if only he'll promise to take him in like he had taken in the Custodes.

He should have known better than to trust a traitor.

The only rewards of tolerance are treachery and betrayal.

He had betrayed the Emperor once. He will do so again. 

When he cleans the Apollonian Spear from the splatters of the shard, when he sinks deeper into that reverie of Emperor-laden memories torn from the shard, he can almost feel a smidgen of regret for what he had become. For taking all he could from a naive, innocent man and laying him to death for the soul of a man he loved(no, hated?). For a sin he both loathed and adored and was so utterly loyal to, for the Emperor tore out his ability to hate His abuse. For the pain he adored to damnation, for the sin, for the brief high of being in His love. He had loved him, yes? He had loved him, but it wasn't enough, it is never enough, the shards must bleed, they can only bleed, it's their only gift to die before the Apollonian Spear and feed the mind of an assassin that killed for love, and killed because he hated. They were his master, they were his master once upon a time, but he cannot let them live. He cannot let them be, he cannot spare them from the Apollonian edge, when all he feels is sanctity whenever he butchers them back to the grave His lord resides.

'Oh, Constantin.' he hears Him sigh. 'Look at how far you've fallen.'

~~~

The Aquilans despaired after the last death. They had deluded themselves into thinking she would be different, that the boy that had naively trusted the monster the first time was a mistake.

It was not.

It was the Order's eleventh loss by then. A blow to their morale, and a blow to their pride. The Emperor had died before Horus. His remnants had died before His own captain. They curse his name, they curse his spear, they curse his stitched-together-armor built from the raiments of his brothers, but most of all, they curse themselves for failing Him again. And again. And again, as the monster clad in scraped-together auramite kills them again and again, always with cold, swift zeal, without err, and without deviation. He never lets them live. He cannot let them live. There is no respite, no mercy and no rest. For those that caught the rage of his eye, there is only death.

They stand in meaningless, sullen vigils. Shield-Captain Lehievin, the Leviathan of Terra, only watchers over their latest charge's grave with an ashen face and a grim scowl. The failed bodyguards rustle in quiet, aimless rituals, dropping flowers over the upturned dirt, draping veils over her portraits, burying the bloodstained laurel with infinite reverence. Their cloaks, when they turn, are full of tears. It would have been kinder if they had lamented. It would have been crueler if they had sobbed and screamed and lashed out at one another for their failure. Anything but the silent penitence they face, tears coating immaculate auramite, giant golden gauntlets carefully scooping out the dirt and replacing it over the new grave. Knowing the monster is listening to their cries, knowing the monster is reveling(or at least as close as he can to revel) in their charge's death. Knowing he will kill again, unrestrained, unchained. 

And knowing their next charge would end much the same.

'Shield-Captain.' Magtanggol bows his head. Lehievin barely turns to greet him. 'Shield-Captain.' he tries again, and Lehievin shakes his head in an irate motion, finally jerking around to meet him.

'Speak.'

'The next shard is predicted to be in the Sol system already, Shield-Captain. We will have to move fast to intercept her.'

Lehievin considers the news with no grand expression. The corpse was barely cold in its grave, and yet now the Monster was already trying to set his rifle's sights on the next.

'When?' he finally responds.

'Another twelve years. Long enough for her aging to finally noticeably stop, and around the time the first...mutations of His begin to occur. We will have to deploy rapidly, before he settles into the adjacent systems. We will have to conceal all evidence she had ever been at all.'

'And the Captain?'

Magtanggol smiles cruelly. His handsome features, as sharp and as weathered as marble statues, were highlighted by the gaunt grimace of his smile. 'He won't know. Not if we obscure the paranormal occurrences this time too.'

Lehievin considers this for a moment. He heaves a sigh before replying.

'It is rare,' he begins. 'when a charge re-appears before even a century has passed.'

'Her death was particularly swift. A single bolterround through the next. The Apollonian Spear's wounds were not numerous. I suspect he did not have enough time to...erase and eradicate all traces of our lord from the corpse before we descended upon him. Our lord's essence may have fled. Departed for a better host, shall we say.'

'Departed...' Lehievin murmurs. 'It is such an ugly word.'

'As I agree, Shield-Captain.'

'And how sure are you about this news?'

'Quite. The Astropathic signals match.'

'You do know that so close to our current system, the Captain will likely have prepared for this, yes?'

Magtanggol smiles humorlessly. This time, there were teeth in that grin. 'Oh. Yes. Certainly. But we have no option but to try, do we not? We still have time. He doesn't know yet. Our communications take time to run, even for the Custodes, and even if he intercepts us now, we will reach her much swifter than he can dream of. And besides. Do you see another option, Shield-Captain? A single alternative, but to endure?'

Did they truly have no option, but to hope, to grasp, and to endure? Yes, they truly didn't.

Lehievin looks away, leaning heavily against his guardian spear. For a moment he looked like an old man with a crutch, wistfully looking into the sunset and wishing he was a young man again, when oceans were still unburnt and brothers yet unbetrayed. Finally, he snarls one last time at the grave. His fingers close tightly upon the spear's haft as he whips around to face his lieutenant.

'Very well, Magtanggol.' Lehievin returns Magtanggol' grin with a soft, yet surprisingly bitter, smile. 'We deploy at dusk. Notify the Aquilan Shield Captain-Commander. We have found our second charge. The Shield-Company will not let Him die.'

No. Never. Never again.

Because, in truth, what other choice did they have, but to hope, to beg, and to fight against the inevitable?

[blubffsd]

— WORLDS COLLIDE PT. 5

summary: Two worlds approaching each other finally meeting at the same point in space, generating enough heat to turn them into a ball of liquid lava upon colliding. After the collision, the energy distributes the remains around the star that saw them born.

previous chapter

note: thank you for the support you have given to this story, i love you all and i hope you enjoy it. 💕

don't forget to tell me what you think about!! <3

Kylian and Mia remain static in their places when they hear that voice, her voice.

The blonde gets up from her seat wanting to avoid running into Melissa, but her boyfriend determinedly takes her hand, stopping her steps. She looks at him desperately, not understanding why he emanates so much tranquility in the face of everything that is about to happen.

He doesn't make a sound, just motioning for her to stay there. She just nods in confusion, trying to calm down and breathe as she watches Kylian open the door and see her again.

Melissa enters the house with a smile that disappears as soon as she sees Mia's face, which is nothing more than a reflection of the fear that she feels. Her expression turning to one of wonder who quickly disappears, smiling again, pretending not to have seen Mia there, sitting on the sofa in front of her eyes.

—Could I go get my wallet? I think I left it in the dining room –her voice echoes in the room and she only receives a nod in response. She walks over with a smirk on her face, the satisfaction reflected in every step she takes, enjoying the effect she's having on Mia.

Her silhouette disappears between the corridors, the only sounds in the room are Mia and Kylian's deep breaths and Melissa's footsteps walking away.

Neither of them knows what to do, their gazes are lost somewhere in the living room, unprocessed that she is there. Their minds wander without being able to think clearly. Seconds feel like hours. The tension increases as time goes by.

Kylian would rather keep quiet than say something he'll probably regret later, but she's there, a smile on her face, pretending to be nice when he kicked her out of his house less than an hour ago because he couldn't stand her attitude anymore.

Knowing that she is in the same place as them makes them uncomfortable. Kylian can't stand her presence, Mia can't stand remembering how she treated her.

Melissa appears in front of them again, this time with her wallet in her hands. She doesn't say anything, so neither do they. Kylian tries to smile at her slightly, hoping she'll take it as a sign to go, but it doesn't, because he can't even look her in the eye without wanting to yell at her everything he didn't tell her in these 2 days.

The older one glances sideways at Mia, an unreadable expression on her face. She turns away from both of them as she heads for the door.

—Apparently dad kicked someone out of the house –she mutters and leaves.

She laughed as soon as she said it.

Kylian can't ignore it, neither can Mia, much less when her words had so much weight that her eyes are filling with tears and a lump appears in her throat.

She lets out a sob that doesn't go unnoticed by her boyfriend. This is no longer about her father, far from it, it is the feeling of betrayal, the surprise and how much it hurts that the one who does all this is Melissa. She's going too far, far more than either of them could have imagined.

The anger that Kylian fought to hide reappears as soon as he sees how much what she said affected Mia. All the disappointment that he feels for her sister-in-law increases and the indignation for everything that happened in the last two days return.

Everything that happened is replayed in his mind again. The booing of the fans in the final, disappointed looks, newspaper articles ridiculing him, his family and their attempts to comfort him that ended in nothing, how they wanted to prevent him from seeing Mia, the fight in penalties, the lies.

Everything that seemed to be gone when Mia arrived has just come back and even stronger, the feeling that has been tormenting him since december 18 continues and he can't take it anymore.

Without even thinking about it and completely blinded by his impulses, he opens the door ignoring his girlfriend telling him not to, leaves the house and approaches Melissa, who has not yet gotten into her car, ready to face her once and for all.

He calls her name, she turns but her gaze goes to Mia, who is standing behind him, no words come out of her mouth but her disapproving look is enough. Kylian's anger cannot increase any more, he wants to say so many things but it seems that they were captive in his mind, words cannot come out. He doesn't know how to handle the situation, or what to do.

His desire to erase all those feelings and feel at peace again is so great, but he is paralyzed in front of his sister-in-law seeing her mother get out of the car, followed by Jirès.

He can also see his niece and nephew leaning out the car window, smiling to see their aunt Mia, they both get out as best they can and run towards her.

They hug her, who receives them with open arms, but still with tears in her eyes, which do not go unnoticed by Fayza, that when she sees her she feels like her heart is breaking.

Her sweet little Mia, completely saddened and affected by what happened. Embarrassed and feeling out of place. The desire to hug her and tell her that nothing that happened is her fault appears at the same time as the tears in her eyes.

Regret washes over her, and the shame for not having stood up for her increases when they both make eye contact for the first time since what happened.

Kylian standing next to his partner is seen by all his family present there, in Fayza this generates happiness, but Melissa and Jirès are only disgusted and a look of disgust appears on their faces.

Mia sees them. The discomfort returns and it feels the same as in the penalty shootout 2 days ago. But Kylian takes her hand and gives it a light squeeze, along with a half smile, showing his support.

Maybe it doesn't feel the same as 2 days ago, because this time Kylian saw them too.

[delphiealmond]

A Fallen Apple From the Apple Tree

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Pairing ➸ Lucifer Morningstar x Alastor

Synopsis ➸ Lucifer Morningstar believed that Heaven was a sanctuary, the best place for a soul to be in. Growing up with his brothers was the easy part, until God summoned him and his older brother Michael to guard over the portal between realms. Slowly, Lucifer begins to see how frightful Heaven really was. Sought out to defend the sinners of Hell, tragedy strikes among the Archangels. But a familiar face makes Lucifer think that maybe defending his opinion wasn't the worst idea he could've had. Does this familiar face bring him peace? Or does Lucifer end up getting stuck in another twisting cycle of lies and betrayals?

Warnings ➸ Swearing

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MASTERLIST : Previous | Next

Chapter Two (2.5k)

Once Beelzebub returned, she sat back down at the round table, turning her attention towards the man in white. No one in Hell liked this man. Yet, he sat at the table with his son Michael in his arms. He held the boy close to him, rubbing his back, soothing him of his fears. 

Michael held onto his white and blue jacket for dear life. He whimpered, sniffled and couldn’t look at the people in the room. The only person he could look at was his father, and even then, he didn’t offer much comfort. Nor did the Cherubim that stood guard over the King of Heaven. 

God rubbed Michael’s back, gently patting his head as he gave the boy a small toy to play with. Luckily, that pulled his attention away from the scary things that surrounded him, as he wiped away the tears that began to collect in his eyes. He gripped it, looking the toy over before he began to play with it, comfortably on his father’s lap while their meeting officially began. 

“Now, your Lord.” Satan sat up, his eyes digging holes into God’s head. “I’m glad you’ve accepted to meet us.”

“Of course.”

“So why’d you bring the kid?” Mammon asked, looking at the boy with light blonde hair and green eyes. 

God hesitated for a moment, only for a heavy sigh to leave his lips. He turned his gaze down to his eldest son. 

“The Seraphims couldn’t take them for the day… And the rest of the Cherubim were doing their job. I couldn’t exactly stop them from that to keep the boys occupied.” 

“So you brought them to Hell?” Mammon laughed. “You’re so pathetic.” 

“That’s enough,” Satan announced, standing from his spot. “God, your position means very little to us in Hell. Though, we understand you are the highest rank in Heaven. Now tell us why we had to have exorcist angels come tell us what is going to happen over the next decade?” 

God stared at the six deadly sins. He knew each of them by name. By sin. They were all the embodiment of them, were they not? Sins that etched into the perfect world he’s built. The perfect world the Seraphim’s work their hardest to protect. He disliked them all, as they’ve permanently damaged the one thing he’s spent years on creating. 

“Why don’t you sit down, Satan? And let us all talk like adults.” He said, snapping his fingers. The Cherubim behind him leaned forward, handing him the golden document. “You must understand that it’s nothing you’ve done for this to happen.”

“That’s bullshit!” Leviathan stood from his chair. “All you ever do is take everything from us that you think is wrong in your eyes.” 

“Levi, calm down…” Satan held up a hand. 

“No!!” He huffed. “You have all of this mighty power and you still decide to send angels down here to kill the souls that YOU can’t accept?!”

“Levi,” Bee glanced over to God, seeing how Michael cowered to the shouting. He clutched the toy to his chest as he tried to bury himself into his father’s jacket. “Please explain to us why you’re doing this then. Why you’ve decided to do it..” She frowned, watching as Levi grumbled, yet found his seat. 

“Thank you Beelzebub.” God sent the document over to Satan. “Your lost souls are becoming too much. And there is a chance that they could rise against the lot of you, creating even more chaos than we need. And with that in mind, what happens next?” He asked, rubbing Michael’s back. “Heaven will no longer be a safe place for those who did no harm. Those who followed my rules.” 

“And killing them is your only option?” Asmodeus asked, a frown on his face as he glanced between God and Satan. 

“You have rings, right?” God asked. 

“The 6 rings of Hell. Yes, each one of us runs one ring.” Satan explained. “But you don’t think it’s enough.”

“Of course not.”

“So massacre is your next best thing?” Levi asked. “And to think you’re someone everybody worships, yet you do worse things than the people down here do.” 

God’s jaw tightened as he looked down at little Michael. He looked less afraid than when they first got there. His little eyes were lost in the hopes of the toy, his hand gripping onto his jacket. He didn’t want to be far from his father, lost in the scary darkness of the world. 

“We will do it once a year. Send down an army of exorcists to exterminate souls. Of course, you and your loved ones will be safe.”

“But sinners, sir?” Bee asked, a frown on her face. “They’re…”

“Don’t start with me, Beelzebub.” God spoke, holding up a hand. “They are nothing like the souls we have in heaven. They chose to kill, to commit sin. This is the only place for people like them.”

“And you say Hell is becoming overcrowded?” Satan asked. “And what of Heaven? Are people a greater evil than good? How can you expect a soul to be pure and good, like you or your children?” 

“They should be.” 

“But it was your snake.” Asmodeus said, his fingers linking together. “It was your snake that convinced Lilith, your snake who gave Eve the apple. You created it, which means…” He glanced around the table. “You created the first sin.” 

~~~~

The room was warm, with red and black furniture. The walls were painted in red and gold, colours Lucifer never expected to blend together. A fire was lit in the old grey stone fireplace as he wandered over to it. Of course, he knew fire was bad. It was painful, his father would say. Yet, it was beautiful. The dance of the flame. Lucifer could almost see figures dancing in the colours. 

The carpet was a deep blue, almost purple with a number of stains littering it. Spiderwebs locked off in the corners, big spiders occupying the space. Michael was afraid of them, but Lucifer found them beautiful. He found almost everything beautiful. 

He spun around the room, seeing the other boy, Alastor was it? Standing there watching him. He didn’t look scary, like the rest of them. He didn’t look dangerous, like the rest of them. Yet, he smiled at him, before rushing to the window of the room. 

“Careful, your highness.” Cherubim spoke, watching him with caution. Lucifer prompted himself up on the window ledge, looking out the window. The streets were covered in reds and grays. Greens and beiges. Demons wandered the streets, looking nearly miserable. A frown slowly appeared on Lucifer’s bright face, as he watched the sinners wander through the world, almost aimlessly. 

“Why do they do that?” He asked, looking back to Cherubim. The soldier frowned, slowly heading over as he peered out the window. 

“This is their everyday lives, your highness.” He spoke. “They have nothing down here, compared to what we have up in Heaven. Now, come away from the ledge, you wouldn’t want to get hurt.” He beckoned. 

Lucifer pouted, before using the help from the Cherubim to get off the ledge. He smiled at the boy, happily running over to him. 

“What are you?” He asked. The boy stared at him, only to tilt his head to the side. 

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

“What are you?” Lucifer asked again, before gesturing to his ears. “Are you a dog? Are you… A fox?” He asked. 

“Oh,” Alastor reached up and touched his ears. “I’m a hellborn. But, I have the features of a deer. My dad says it’s because he chose it.” He spoke, almost proud of his traits. 

“Who’s your father? Is he the one in the big chair?” Lucifer asked, wandering around the room as he climbed onto one of the chairs. Alastor paused, glancing up at the Cherubim. He was told by his dad to never trust an angel. They’re selfish, rude and they take what they want, whenever they want it. 

“Yes,” He wandered over to Lucifer, standing by the fireplace. “His name is Satan. He runs the Ring of Wrath.”

“Wrath…” Lucifer muttered, looking up at the ceiling. He saw little details in each section. One was a smiley face, the other was a big heart. Maybe he even saw the details of the garden of eden in it. He smiled though, before looking at Alastor. 

“If… he dies, will you become the king then?” 

“What?” Alastor looked at Lucifer before a smile appeared on his face. He laughed at the remark, before he shook his head. Yet, the prince pouted, crossing his arms at Alastor’s laugh. 

“It was just a question, you don’t have to get so mean about it.”

“Well, there’s hierarchy down here. Multiple people run Hell, it’s not just one big guy in the sky. My dad only runs part of Hell. Every person in there? Runs only a small part. Together, they take care of it all.” He explained, putting his hands behind his back. 

“So no, there’s no way I’d be a King of something.” He laughed again. “You’re funny, little angel.”

“Hey!” Lucifer got off from the chair, his hands forming to fists as three sets of little wings sprouted from his back. “I’m not a little angel! I’m an archangel who holds a very important part in Heaven!” He shouted. Alastor stared at him. 

Now, Lucifer didn’t quite understand the look in Alastor’s eyes. He’s never met a hellborn before. He’s never even met a sinner before. Yet, the curiosity in Alastor’s red eyes struck him. Maybe this boy was just as curious as he was. 

“What…?”

“Those are wings, right?” Alastor asked, pointing to them. 

Though Lucifer's wings weren't big and bushy like his fathers, or even like Michael’s, but his wings were still a very important part to who he was. They were small, fragile, and he couldn’t fly with them yet. They looked a little more gray than they did white, as the rest of his colours hadn’t come in yet. But they were his wings, and he loved them. 

“Y-yeah… What about ‘em?” He asked, a frown on his face. 

“Are they… real?” Alastor asked, his ears twitching with excitement. And maybe this was Lucifer's first time noticing it. Behind him, a little red and black deer tail, wagging back and forth with excitement. How did he not see that before? 

“Yeah, they’re real…” He glanced at his wings. “But they’re not fully grown yet. And they’re gray, not white… but father says that my colours will come in eventually!” 

“They’re pretty.” Alastor said, looking at them. “Can I touch them?”

“My wings?” Alastor smiled, yet Lucifer remained cautious of the hellborn’s actions. 

“Yeah! I’ll let you touch my ears, in exchange.” Lucifer hesitated. He was born with wings and horns, while this boy in front of him was born with ears and a tail. It wouldn’t harm anyone if he let one demon touch his wings, right? And his ears did look awfully fluffy. Sort of like a bunny’s, but different. 

“Okay…!” He agreed, his wings spreading out on display. Alastor smiled, his hand cautiously reaching out and touching against the gray feathers. His little tail wagged with excitement as he felt the softness of the angel’s feathers. 

“Wow… And does everyone have these?” Alastor asked, taking his hands back. Lucifer smiled with a firm nod. 

“Even angels that arrive in heaven do.” He spoke, proud of his own wings as they folded up, going back into hiding. “But, because Michael and I are children of God himself, we have more sets of wings. Which means we’re archangels.” 

“Wow…”

“My turn?” Lucifer asked, waiting patiently. Alastor blinked, before he gave a small nod. He tilted his head down for the young angel to touch against his ears. The way Lucifer’s eyes lit up almost made Alastor laugh. 

His blue eyes went big and bright, adoration sparkled in them as he felt the fluffs of Alastor’s ears. He couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face as he touched them. 

“They’re super soft!!” He said, finally letting go of the red and white ears. Alastor stood straight, gently touching them as he straightened them out. 

“I guess so…”

“I didn’t think Hell could have something so soft…” He muttered. 

“Really?” Alastor tilted his head to the side. “Does everyone in Heaven think Hell is just… a really horrible place?”

“It is, isn’t it?” Lucifer asked, a small frown appearing on his pale face. “That’s what father says. That Hell is the worst place to be. That… We are the good people up in Heaven and everyone down here is bad..”

Alastor’s smile faded, only for a frown of its own to appear. His ears twitched as he pulled his gaze away from the shorter angel. 

“Not every single person down here is bad.” He complained, only for his ears to tilt back, flattening against his head. Lucifer paused, watching the other boy. Did he say something wrong? 

“Wait… That… It doesn't mean that you're bad.” Lucifer tried, reaching out for the demon in front of him. But, Alastor took a step away from him, glaring at the angel in his way. 

“I am bad.” He said. “I think you should be very afraid of me.” 

Lucifer frowned, taking a small step back from the demon in front of him. He must’ve said something wrong, he must’ve crossed over the line. He just wanted someone to talk to, but right now, this person… This demon was scaring him. 

“Being here isn’t safe for a little angel like you.” Alastor took a step forward, watching as the boy pushed back into the chair behind him. “Maybe you should run back to your little world of pure happiness and roses. Get away from the dark and evil that could rip off those pretty wings of yours.” 

Lucifer’s eyes began to water, but before he knew it, the Cherubim stepped in front of the other boy, guarding Lucifer with his angelic weapon pointed at the demon in front of them. He tumbled back against the floor, panic in his eyes as he watched the Cherubim force the other boy back against the wall. 

It all happened so fast, seen through tears in his eyes. He was picked up by his father, hearing the muffled shouting between two different worlds. The evil people his father was talking with, angry and scary looking. Especially the one who rushed over to Alastor. 

Yet, he watched as the Cherubim’s forced their way through the house, forcing sinners and the six deadly sins. He watched the house disappear behind them, peering over his father’s shoulder. 

The next thing Lucifer knew, he was at home, tucked into his bed. He was wrapped up in his blankets, cuddling one of the many plushies on his bed. Simply, he rolled over, got himself comfortable again and fell right back to sleep.

[specialagentlokitty]

Daryl x reader - no angels here

Part 7:

Jonah stood up with a small grunt of pain, and he glared in your direction, watching as you clasped your hands behind your back.

“We knew it would only be a matter of time before you showed your true face…”

“So did I.”

You raised a hand, a swarm of ravens appearing, surrounding your, swirling around you, cawing loud enough to make somebody go deaf.

They flew in all directions making everybody duck out of the way, and they raised their gaze towards you.

Your whole attire had changed, a black trench coat, black jeans with chains connected to the belt loops, from your back were two large, very beaten black wings.

The bottoms of them were nothing but bone, the feathers growing above it messy, burned, containing small holes.

“Oh how the mighty fall indeed.” Jonah taunted.

You clasped your hands behind your back again, watching as he brushed the dirt from his clothes.

“Now dear sister, one does have to wonder how you managed to escape.”

“Don’t try act so tough Jonah, we both know that you are simply just a messenger boy. Tell the bastard that sent you if he wants me dead, he can come do it himself.”

Jonah chuckled a little bit.

“Oh believe me, he will. My job is to bring that traitor back and make him pay for his betrayal.”

You hummed a little bit, moving one of your hands and you raised a finger, watching as the chains wrapped around him, bringing him to his knees.

You walked over to him, walking behind him and you stood there, placing your hand on his forehead.

“Do you think this will scare me?” He scoffed.

“No, I could care less about scaring you Jonah. I’m not interested in that.”

“Then what is this? Just a little show for your friends?” He taunted.

You hummed a little bit, tilting his head back a little bit, digging your talons into his skull, feeling the blood drip down your hand.

You grabbed something from just above his head, and you stepped backwards.

“Do you know the purpose of an angels halo?” You asked.

Jonah let out a nervous breath.

“Don’t…”

“It’s to let heaven know who can come and go freely, separate you from demons, from human souls. It’s also the source of the power, life, everything for an Angel.”

“Please… please don’t..”

You tossed his halo up and down in your hands, standing just in front of him, and you tilted your head back.

“Want to know what happens if you break it?”

You turned your head, staring him in the eyes with a blank look on your face.

“(Y/N) that’s enough.” Balthazar whispered.

He walked over, placing his hand over yours, and you turned towards him.

“They’re all watching you…”

“Not just them… the entirety of heaven will be watching Jonah…”

“Then send him back with a message, warn them to stop..”

You scoffed, looking at the halo in your hand.

“I’ll give them a different message.” You snarled.

You gripped the hall tightly in your hands, watching as it cracked, listening to Jonah and Balthazar plead you not to go ahead with it.

But you ignored them, turning your gaze towards Jonah.

“I will do what I must to protect my people. These are my people, Jonah, you made a big mistake coming here.”

He begged and pleaded for your to stop and you made him watch as you shattered the halo, and he screamed.

Light exploded him, turning his body into a pile of ash, the chains falling with a clanging sound to the ground.

“I will destroy every single one of them that comes here Balthazar, every one of them that comes after you, comes after these people.”

You opened your hand, letting the remains of the halo scatter in the wind, and you finally turned around to look at him properly.

Balthazar looked at you sadly as he watched you glance behind him only briefly to see the face of your friends painted with fear and confusion, and you locked eyes with him.

He looked past you, reaching a hand out and you arched your wing away from him, making a noise of discomfort.

“Don’t Balth…”

“You never told me…”

You took a step back, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your jacket.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

A birds came back down, sweeping past you and when they cleared you were gone and he sighed.

“I suppose we should go somewhere dry, preferably not the church, (Y/N) doesn’t like her name being spoken in there.”

Michonne pointed her sword at him, giving him directions on where to go, and he was taken to a house where he was cuffed and forced to sit in a chair.

“Tell us everhthing.” Michonne demanded.

So, he did.

He spent hours explaining everything that had just happened, giving them backstory on who Jonah was, who he was.

It took a lot of explaining, and convincing on his part, letting them see his wings, touch them to prove that they were real, and Daryl shooting an arrow into his shoulder to see if he was lying or not.

“So, let us get this straight. They’re looking for (Y/N)? Now you’re a fugitive as well?” Aaron asked.

Balthazar nodded his head.

“Take however long you want to process this, I’m not going anywhere.”

They left him there with Daryl watching over him.

They would come back day after day to ask him the same questions and his answers never changed.

Gabriel walked into the room, standing near the door.

“If what you say is true then why is all this happening?” He asked.

Balthazar sighed.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t important enough to know.”

“Then what were you? What was your job?”

“I was just a lowly scout. I would be sent to check on people and report back, I was sent to do the same thing with (Y/N).”

“You told them where she was?”

Balthazar shook his head, leaning back in the chair slightly, looking up at the ceiling.

“No. I never told them. But it was only a matter of time until they found her.”

“Why?”

Balthazar looked at him.

“You’re not the one who should be asking that question. I believe he sent you in here to ask it.”

Gabriel nodded his head.

“Tell Daryl that whatever information he wants on (Y/N) he can come and get it himself. She said I could tell everybody, but I believe some times he should hear first.”

“I agree, but he won’t listen to me. He refuses to come and see you himself.”

“Then he’ll never know, she won’t show herself to anybody, not now.”

“Will she show herself to you?”

“Yes, if I call for her. But I won’t do that.”

Gabriel nodded his head again.

“The things I know about (Y/N) should be passed directly on to Daryl, given how close they were I think it’s only right he finds out first. If he wants to know he knows where to find me. I’ll tell him everything I know.”

Gabriel left the room, leaving Balthazar alone sitting there.

He sighed, walking over to the window and he stood looking outside where Gabriel reported everything back to council.

Daryl was stood there, off to the side like he didn’t really want to be part of the conversation, as if he wasn’t interested.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he closed his eyes.

“Running away won’t get you anywhere (Y/N).”

“I’m not running anymore.”

“You say that, yet here you are, hiding from the very people you care so deeply about. Running from them.”

You didn’t say anything, you walked over to him and leant against the wall, away from the view of the window.

He turned his eyes to you, seeing your blank face.

“The longer you hide from this the more painful it’s going to be.”

“That’s what I deserve.”

Balthazar turned to you.

“You don’t! When are you going to see that (Y/N)? You don’t! What happened was not your fault, you were tricked into it, you have people here who you grew close to, you can have that life.”

You shook your head at him.

“The man you love is down there, and you’re avoiding him. You won’t even speak to him.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“If I can convince him to see you will you speak to him?”

“You’ll never convince him, Daryl sticks to whatever he puts his mind to.”

Balthazar turned to look out the window again, and he turned back to see that you were gone.

He knew you wouldn’t have gone far, you would’ve found somewhere to sit away from them.

You chose the highest point of the community and you sat there, arms wrapped around your knees, fully aware of the man in the roof of what was your home looking at you.

You refused to look at him though, just staring straight ahead.

From where he was stood Daryl could see you, the real you.

You made no attempt to hide yourself now, your red eyes gazing blankly at nothing, your wings neatly folded against your back.

Even your clothing was different, the soft sweaters and comfy jeans replaced with black jeans, a black shirt, a black trench coat.

It was like you were a whole different person.

You were a whole different person, you weren’t the (Y/N) they knew, the (Y/N) they all trust.

You weren’t his (Y/N).

But that look on your face, he had seen it before, that was the look you always had when you were so far gone inside your own head.

Part of him was aching to reach out, to help you, but the rest of him refused, and he turned away from you.

Making his way inside and back out of the house, he walked away from where you were sat, stopping by the house where your friend was being held.

Balthazar was leaning out of the open window.

“She won’t leave because she wants to protect this place, even if it means giving her very life to do it.” Balthazar called.

Daryl looked up at him.

“(Y/N) always protected those she cared about, and evidently that was her own downfall.”

Daryl turned away, going to carry on walking.

“She wasn’t always like that. She was once exactly as you knew her.”

Balthazar pushed himself away from the window, walking to the cot his was given to sleep and he sat down on it.

He waited a few moments, but Daryl never came, but he didn’t give up hope.

He knew Daryl would ponder the words he was told, and eventually he was right, nearly a week later Daryl finally came to see him.

Sitting down on the chair, Daryl leant back, setting his crossbow in his lap, letting Balthazar know he wasn’t afraid to use it.

“What do you know?” He asked.

Balthazar slowly sat up from where he was laid down.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Balthazar nodded his head, leaning back against the wall.

“Get ready for a long conversation then.”