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caesariawritesstuff · 5 months ago

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Be Quiet

Summary: As Jonathan Crane's therapist, you're required to have weekly sessions with him. Good thing for you that those sessions involve more than talking.

Content Warning: Therapy Sessions, P in V Sex, NSFW

Word Count: 2.2k

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ● Masterlist ●

You walked the halls of Arkham, a clipboard tucked tightly to your chest. Your heart hammered furiously against your ribcage, and you bit your lip. Anxiety twisted in your belly, a desperate ache pulsed in between your legs. The Arkham guard escorting you was completely clueless to the utter desire coursing through your veins. You snuck a quick glance, studying him head to toe: he was dressed in the traditional black and blue uniform of all the Arkham security staff; his expression was stoic, and one hand wrested at his side, near his taser.

You frowned; Here you were, dressed in a short skirt and blouse, a long, white doctors coat hanging down to your knees. As a therapist in Arkham, you never thought you’d be in the position you were in now: falling in love with your patient, Jonathan Crane.

God, just the thought both filled you with arousal and shame. Who did you think you were? Harley Quinn? And everyone knew what happened to her. Her fall from grace as she became the Joker’s sidekick and lover. At first, you’d judged her. Didn’t understand how she could fall for such a maniac. At least, not until you began your sessions with Jonathon almost three months ago.

And in those three months, you’d come to learn just exactly how a therapist in Arkham could fall in love with their patient. At first, your sessions with Jonathan had been less than productive. He danced around the idea of fear, spouting his theories and philosophies on the very basis that people did what they did because they were driven by fear. And you were desperate to prove him wrong. To show that he was incorrect. That people didn’t always do things out of fear, and for other reasons entirely – money, lust, power. Fear wasn’t a motivator for everyone.

And yet, he always had a counter.

“You crave money because you fear what it’d be like to live without,” he’d said. “You crave sex because you fear a life without intimacy. You want power because you fear losing control of your life and the people in it.”

Each time, his conversations had not only left you speechless, but wondering what you could do to get through to him. And slowly, over time, you began to fall in love with Jonathan Crane.

You’re not even sure how it happened, exactly. Not sure how, as he slowly opened up about more of his theories, he had come to ensnare you under his spell. But he had, and now here you were: heading into another therapy session with him, one that wouldn’t actually consist of much therapy at all. You sucked in a breath as you reached the room, where Jonathan awaited. The guard unlocked and opened the door, staring at you with stern, serious eyes.

“Thank you. You may go now,” you said. Your cue that he didn’t need to stand there and listen in. The guards knew your rule by now: their presence was unwanted and unnecessary, and only served to upset the patients. But, he nodded and waited until you were securely inside before he closed the door behind you.

It shut with a heavy bang, and you slowly turned your attention to Jonathan, sitting there at the desk. Wrapped in a straitjacket, his cold, steely eyes studying you. His mask-like face was unreadable and unrelenting. You were never sure what he was thinking. The room was cold, sending a chill across your flesh. You waited until you heard the guards’ footsteps drift down the hall and out of ear shot. When you were certain he was gone, you didn’t hesitate to walk around Jonathan and begin undoing his straight jacket. It was custom now, between the two of you. And he hated having his limbs confined and restrained. When it was off enough for him to slip his arms through, he flexed his fingers and rolled his neck.

“Better?” you asked, your heart thundering in your chest.

“Much,” he answered, his voice cold. Emotionless.

You wandered back to his front. The straitjacket hung off just enough at his waist that in case you needed to quickly secure it, you had easy access. But your hands were trembling, and you clenched your fists at your sides, trying not to show your fear. Heat crept across your cheeks, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

He noticed, his eyes dropping to your fists. “Trembling already. You’re not afraid, are you?”

“No,” you answered quickly. Perhaps too quick. Like a child pretending they were confident in their own emotions.

He studied you, his eyes examining every inch of you. Today, you’d chosen an especially short skirt and more revealing blouse that exposed even more of your cleavage. Your intentions were fully on display: what you wanted. What you wanted him to do to you. Jonathan Crane was not a stupid man, and the very subtle hint of a smirk appeared on his mask-like face. He rested one hand on your waist, and the other snaked up to grab your chin. You gasped as he pulled you on top of him so quickly that you had no choice but to straddle him. You rested both hands on his shoulders, locking eyes with him.

“I can practically smell your fear,” he whispered lowly, bringing your mouth to his. He kissed you gentle – but his lips were rough. Patchy. You didn’t care. The feel of his tongue on yours made you relax into him; you pressed your body further into his. His hand tightened on your waist and his other hand fisted at the back of your lab coat, before tangling in your hair.

You kissed him harder, fiercer. Desperate to taste him. Wetness pooled in between your legs, and you moaned into the kiss. You grinded your hips into his, feeling the erection confined in his white, prison suit. You reached up, tangling your hands into his dark hair, tugging slightly on the strands. Massaging his scalp. He groaned and pulled away, staring at you.

“On your knees,” he said. One simple command. He didn’t need to elaborate.

Your entire body was on fire as you crawled off him and lowered to your knees. Your heart beat so hard you could hear it thrumming in your ears. Slowly, you helped his cock free of its constraints. Swollen hard, precum leaking from the tip. The head bright red with blood and desire. You glanced up at him once; he still gazed at you expressionless, but his eyes were full of need and want.

You smiled and leaned forward, darting your tongue out to lick at the tip. His breath suddenly hitched, his cock twitching in your palm. You smirked, satisfied and absolutely turned on you. Slowly, you continued the slow, teasing movements of your tongue. Up and down his shaft, swirling around his cockhead. Above, his breathing grew quicker, in a way you hadn’t heard from him before. But, you leaned forward and took him fully into your mouth. He tasted of sweat and salt and skin as you leaned forward, taking him even further. A low, guttural groan escaped his throat, and he twisted his fingers into your hair. You rose up, then back down, repeating the bobbing motion with your head. You sucked harder, feeling a wetness in between your own legs. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft and pumped slowly in tandem with your sucking.

“Stop,” he said, his voice curt. Quick. A command.

You immediately did as he said, pulling him from your mouth. By the tone of his voice, you had a feeling he was close. But you smirked and licked your lips. He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression just as emotionless as before.

“So obedient,” he said. His fingertips lowered from your temple down to your cheek, slowly stroking your skin. “Turn around.”

You nodded and stood, doing as he said and spinning on your heels. His chair scraped backwards as he stood; carefully, he grabbed your shoulders and lowered you down onto the metal desk. You grasped it carefully, heart hammering against your ribcage. Slowly, his hands wandered downwards, until they reached your ass; he caressed your skin softly, before they wandered further downwards – further, further – until his fingers brushed against your slick, warm wetness. You whined slightly, biting your lip, anticipation building in your stomach.

Then, he pushed your panties aside and sunk two fingers into you, and you groaned as he pumped them in and out, slowly. Carefully, as if studying every reaction you gave. The soft moans that escaped your lips as his fingers filled you and pumped in and out, a vulgar wetness filling the room. You rested your head against the table and closed your eyes, drowning in the feeling.

Suddenly, he removed his fingers, and you whined at the absence – but before you could protest further, he sunk his cock into you. You gasped at the intrusion; the feel of him against you was like heaven. He filled you completely, stretching out your walls. You moaned as his hands placed themselves on your waist, nails digging into your flesh, and he began to thrust.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath. His hips slammed into you, his balls slapping against your ass. You gripped the edge of the table until your knuckles turned white. Soft mewls of pleasure escaped your lips. You gasped with each thrust, your voice growing louder, lewder.

Suddenly, his hand snapped forward. He leaned forward, his powerful body overtaking yours. His hand snaked forward, and he wrapped his fingers around your throat, forcing your face upwards.

“Be quiet,” he hissed into your ear. His rough skin was scratchy against yours. His tongue snaked out, licking at your earlobe and you gasped again, trembling against him. “Ssh…you don’t want them to hear us, do you?”

No, God, no. You were already balancing on a dangerous line. Your job was already at stake. Being caught with Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, fucking you would absolutely destroy your career. You shook your head in answer.

“Good girl,” he whispered. But he didn’t release your throat. Instead, his lips traveled down your jaw, across your flesh, teeth nipping at your flesh. His thrusts increased harder, faster, quicker. His cockhead rammed right into your sweet spot, and you gritted your teeth, trying hard not to cry out in ecstasy.

You closed your eyes as the ultimate pleasure built in your core. In the center of your womanhood, building higher and higher until you were seeing stars. You bit your lip, and slowly reached downwards, rubbing your clit. The heightened sensation was just enough to send you over the edge and a loud gasp escaped your mouth as you came. Your climax wracked through your entire body, spasming every muscle, every part of yourself. You moaned and writhed as Jonathn snapped his hips once more and groaned, spilling himself inside of you. His cock twitched and pulsed, as you felt his seed fill your insides.

For a moment, there was nothing but your heavy breathing in the room. He released his grip on your throat and you fell onto the desk, exhausted, clit still aching with pleasure. He pulled out of you, and his cum dripped down your thighs. You swallowed, trying to gain your composure, and spun back around to see him tucking his cock back into his pants. Your own panties were soaked wet; you were glad you’d stuffed an extra pair into your purse just in case.

You ran a hand through your hair and glanced at the clock. Shit – time was almost up for your session. You had about ten minutes until it was over, and you needed to make yourself look presentable.

“That was…” you couldn’t even say the words. When was the last time you’d had sex so good?

A low chuckle rumbled from deep within his throat, but, he sat back onto his seat. You wandered behind him and began strapping him back into his straitjacket. “Sorry I have to do this,” you whispered, voice low. When he was securely fastened in, you walked back to his front.

“Jonathon—” you started to say, but stopped. How could you tell him how you were feeling?

He studied you carefully. “Speak. Whatever you fear, you can tell me.”

“It’s not what I fear,” you said. “It’s what I don’t. Because I don’t fear you. I love you, Jonathon.”

If he was surprised by your declaration, you couldn’t tell. Not with his mask-like face. But he looked you up and down and said, “My dear. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

You smiled, heart thundering in your chest. You were desperate to kiss him. Desperate to throw yourself on him, take his face in your hands—

But suddenly, footsteps echoed down the hall. You hurried back into your seat and flipped open the file in front of you, pretending you’d been taking notes. By the time you were settled, the door swung open.

“Time’s up, doctor,” the guard said.

“Very well,” you sighed. You didn’t need to feign your irritation. But, you gathered your things and tucked them under your arm. “I’ll see you next week, Jonathon.”

He nodded, and you followed the guard out into the hall, a giant smile plastered on your face.

You couldn’t wait until next week.

#caesariawrites #scarecrow x yn #arkham scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x y/n #jonathan crane x you

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crazylittlejester · 7 months ago

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Okokokok hear me outtt (Deffo not projecting, not like disability rep is super nonexistent or anything-)

warriors: hypoglycemia + chronic pain, (can’t move & feel much of left side due to Volga burns)

sky: epilepsy/some sort of seizure disorder or tic disorder (from lighting)

four: migraines (Ik it’s a pretty popular hc)

legend: ehlers danlos or fibromyalgia or both, cane user (also somewhat popular)

twilight: sensory processing disorder/sensory issues (wolves/dogs hear & smell much better than humans

wild: chronic pain + amputee + nerve issues + mute (damaged vocal cords or mental trauma, or both tbh) (or some mix of these)

hyrule: vision loss (because the NES graphics are really hard for me to see 😭)

wind: hoh/deaf (thundery storms can be VERY loud!!)

time: chronic father figure disorder (sending thots and prayers 😔🙏)

much love,

mandarin warriors :)

(Ps dw about the cia fic schools a bitch I get it!! Don’t sweat it :))

Mandarin Warriors anon you have no idea how excited I get when I hear from you dude 🫶 much love to you too bro

A LOT OF THESE ARE THINGS I HEADCANON TOO! Y’all can pry Sky with epilepsy out of my cold dead hands. And absolutely 1000% YES to wars with hypoglycemia and chronic pain, that’s how I write him >:) also Hyrule with vision loss is something I literally never thought of but ur so real for that

Time with ‘chronic father disorder’ took me out, and may I suggest: Time is autistic (he ain’t the only one, but he’s the one I headcanon the most as autistic)

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #jes talks #jes ask

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do-it-jakey-baby · 11 months ago

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An Unlikely Encounter

Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Synopsis: it is your first time attending a Greta Van Fleet gig by yourself, what happens next was only ever a figment of your wildest imagination.

Warnings: smut, drinking, language

18+, MINORS DNI

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

3.5k word count

“Ok, the doors are opening up. Please enter the building in an orderly fashion!”

Your heart pounded against your ribcage. You were sure that if the room were quieter, the sheer magnitude of thumps would rattle off the walls into thundery echoes. The screaming around you transformed into white noise as you tried to steady yourself amongst the movement.

The doors opened.

Pushed and shoved from all angles, you managed to find yourself quickly enough to propel forwards into a sprint. You weren’t the fittest of people, occasionally enjoying a trip to the gym here and there, but that didn’t stop you from treating this moment like you were an Olympian going for the gold. This was most certainly not your first Greta Van Fleet concert, but it was your first time being at the front of the standing queue. As you hit the barricade and came to a stop, your breath hitched in your throat. Did I really make barricade? You thought as your eyes widened. Holy fucking shit.

The supporting acts seemed to fly by in some dream-like state, and you were still spiralling at the mere thought of being metres away from the band by the time the crowd erupted into a symphony of screeches and wails. As you came to, you could hear a classical overture playing sweetly. You recognised the melody as it morphed from one familiar tune to the next, growing louder to emphasise that the curtain would soon drop. You stared up in anticipation as the overture reached its climax and watched eagerly as four figures emerged. They immediately launched into “The Falling Sky” and Josh’s powerful vocals filled the arena, drawing each and every person in like a siren’s deadly song. You were so enchanted by this that you didn’t notice who had made their way across the stage and was standing directly in front of you.

Jake fucking Kiszka.

There he was, like a shining deity before you. Sweat glistening on his bare chest, his hair softly swishing with every movement, his calloused hands meticulously strumming each chord. Was this a dream? Was Jake Kiszka actually standing right in front of you? Before you could even realise what was happening, your eyes met. You felt a searing warmth spreading across your cheeks, a shy smile playing on your lips. He smiled back, then his eyes moved away as he turned to travel across the stage and meet his brother at the centre.

What the fuck.

In all the times you’d been to see the band, you had never ever made eye contact with one of the boys. Let alone Jake. Jake plagued your thoughts frequently and refused to leave your dreams. His beautiful face that seemed to be carved by literal angels lingered in every corner of your mind. You force yourself back to reality, silently reminding yourself to be present and enjoy the evening, and you do. The atmosphere is electric, you sway along with thousands of fans and scream out the lyrics until your throat stings. Towards the end of the show, as Josh makes his way along the barricade, you reach out and his hand brushes yours. As you make contact, he looks you up and down and winks before making his exit.

What was that about? You think to yourself curiously.

As the night draws to a close, and the band is finishing up their encore, you close your lips around your fingers and send a piercing wolf whistle towards the stage. Jake’s eyes clap onto yours, sending shockwaves through your entire body. He blows you a kiss and your vision slowly fades to darkness.

You’re snapped back into reality when the bitter cold air hits your lungs. Somehow, you’ve made it outside the venue, and you’re stood alone clutching your bag and phone. A text buzzes and lights up the screen, which makes you jump and then subsequently tut with annoyance at the reaction. It’s your best friend. She usually comes with you to Greta gigs, but she’s been held up with work recently, so it’s your first time attending alone.

How was it? So fucking gutted I couldn’t make it. She writes.

Amazing… incredible. And weird. You type back, your fingers moving at a snail-like pace from the icy temperature lingering in the air.

Weird? Explain. She questions.

Before you begin to respond, you take in your environment. It’s 11:30pm, and you’re stood outside, alone, in Wembley, in the freezing cold. It’s probably a good idea to head back to your hotel room and finish this conversation somewhere warmer and safer. As you make your way down the street, you spot a small bar with pretty fairy lights shimmering in the window.

I wouldn’t say no to a drink right now you think to yourself, as you stop outside and peer in. It looks inviting, and warm.

What’s the harm in stopping by for one drink? You muse.

As you open the door, you’re met with the comforting scent of aromatic bitters, mixed with aged oak, and fresh citrus. You breathe in, as you rub your hands together in search of warmth. The bar is quiet with a few people dotted about in booths, making conversation. Soft jazz plays in the background as you make your way over to the bar. You perch yourself up onto a stool and the bartender approaches you to ask what you’ll have.

“Sailor Jerry’s and coke, if you have it” you say with a polite smile. The bartender nods and begins making your drink. He brings it over and you tap your phone onto the card reader.

“Thanks” you say, bringing the glass to your lips and taking in a sip of the sweet, golden liquid, savouring the burn of the alcohol as it slips down your throat. Your attention is quickly diverted though, as you hear a commotion of male voices at the door. Their boisterous laughter cuts through the ambience of the bar like a knife, which is quickly calmed by a very loud shhhhh from one of the taller men in the group. You can make out four figures but decide to pull your attention back to your drink and think about replying to the text message from earlier. As you begin to start typing a response, you feel the stool next to you being pulled away.

For fuck sake, can I not be left alone in peace for one evening without some random bloke bothering me? you think to yourself, rolling your eyes, ignoring the presence next to you and focusing on your phone screen.

The stranger leans in, close enough for you to feel his breath tickle the strands of hair covering your ear.

“Just my luck that I’d find you here, you left pretty quickly after the show was over”.

You look up, a frown forming across your forehead as you begin to reject the man’s advances and tell him you aren’t interested. As your eyes find his, time seems to slow almost to a stop. He grins and cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow rising ever so slightly as he waits for your response.

There’s no way this is happening. This can’t be happening.

You become aware that you’re staring silently, with your mouth hanging open. It feels as though you can’t take in enough breath. You clear your throat, not able to speak but wanting to at least do something.

After what seems like a million years pass by, you finally muster up the word “Hi”, a shy smile playing on your lips.

“Do I get to know your name, pretty lady?” he asks. You feel your stomach flip.

Did Jake Kiszka just call you pretty lady? Ok, calm down, calm down.

“Y/N” you say, admittedly a lot more confidently than you actually feel. “And I believe you must be Jake”.

“A pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” Jake responds, holding his hand out to you. You place your hand in his, and he brings it up to his lips, softly kissing it. The contact sends electric bolts through your nerve endings and into your very core.

“The pleasure is all mine” you breathe.

“So, how come I haven’t seen your beautiful face at our shows before?” He asks, shooting you a playful grin.

“I’ve never made barricade before” you reply honestly.

“What took you so long?”

You pause, not really knowing what to respond. What did take you so long?

You sigh “I always came along with my best friend and my boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. We never actually booked standing tickets, but I was going to be here by myself this time so I thought, fuck it, I may as well try to get as close as I can.”

He sits back in his chair, studying your face.

“Ex-boyfriend?” He asks after a few moments. You feel yourself blush, which he definitely notices.

“Yes, ex-boyfriend. I called it off recently” you hesitate, before adding “It just wasn’t working, so… yeah.”

“Lucky for me” he retorts, his eyes fixated on you, drinking you in. He looks over at the bartender who swiftly walks over to take his order.

“I’ll have whatever she’s having, and of course she’ll need another”.

You look down at your half-finished drink and knock it back, sliding the empty glass over to the bartender.

Thirty minutes later and a few drinks in, you and Jake are chatting away like old friends. You’re so surprised at how easy he is to talk to.

“Do you live round here?” He asks.

“Uhh, it’s complicated” you respond, looking down at your drink and stirring it absentmindedly, watching the ice slosh around in the amber liquid.

Jake raises his eyebrow.

“Technically no, I live further South. I’m staying at a hotel across the street from the arena tonight. But I’m moving in with my best friend who lives here in London, since my ex and I-” you trail off.

Jake puts his hand on your thigh, and you feel your breath catch in the back of your throat.

“Do you still live with him?”

“No, he moved out a few weeks back. But I need to get out, too many memories there.” You squeeze your eyes shut, wincing slightly.

Unconsciously, your hand meets Jake’s, still placed on your thigh. You feel a warmth creep between your legs.

Fuck, it’s been so long since I’ve felt like this. So long since I’ve been… touched.

You bite at your lip and try to shoo the feeling away, but Jake leans in and uses his free hand to brush your hair behind your ear and leans forward to whisper.

“Sounds to me like it’s his loss, pretty lady”.

A soft moan escapes your lips, it’s barely audible but Jake is so close to you that he most definitely heard it. Your eyes dart up to his, your faces so close now that there’s only inches between you. His grip on your thigh tightens as the warmth between your legs spreads.

The next thing you know, you’re in the back of an Uber, Jake’s hands in your hair and his lips crashing into yours. Jake is cool, crystal water and you have an insatiable thirst that only he can quench. Jake’s hand slides up under the skirt of your dress, his fingers barely grazing your throbbing clit. You stifle a moan, your hands exploring his bare chest. The Uber pulls up outside your hotel, and Jake whisks you out and in through the doors. You lead him up to the third floor and fumble around in your bag to find the key card. As you find it, Jake grabs hold of your wrists with one hand and lifts them above you, pinning you to the door. With his spare hand, he lifts your thigh up and around his waist and grinds into you, the outline of his erection pressing right where you need it to. You cry out with pleasure, which Jake evidently seems to like.

“You sound so fucking beautiful when you moan like that” he purrs, retrieving the key card from your restrained hand and pressing it against the reader. As he opens the door, he pulls you up onto him so that you’re straddling him with your legs wrapped around his waist. He brings you over to the bed and sets you down onto it.

“Do you want me, pretty lady?” He asks.

“Fuck… yes! Please!” You shout, the agonising need to be fucked coursing through your veins.

“How long has it been since someone took care of you, baby?”

“Too fucking long” you whine.

“So, you’re telling me this pretty baby hasn’t been fucked for a while? When’s the last time he made you cum?” He taunts, planting hot, breathless kisses along your throat.

“He never made me cum”.

Jake stops in his tracks, runs his hands up and into your hair, and guides your face to his.

“He never made you cum?”

“No, I can’t.” You say, embarrassment flooding across your face. “I can only make myself cum”.

Jake laughs and you frown at him, not understanding what’s remotely amusing about what you just said.

His eyes blacken with lust. “We’ll see about that” he croons, snaking his hand up your thigh, inching dangerously close to your throbbing, needy clit.

“This only works if you trust me, can you do that?” He asks. You nod, but he shakes his head.

“Words, pretty lady. I need you to use your words. I won’t go easy on you, but you need to tell me if things get too much. Ok”

“Ok” you breathe “do anything, please do what you want, I’m yours”.

“You’re gunna wish you didn’t say that” he laughs, and with that, he bunches the waistband of your thong in his fist and rips it off in one clean movement. His middle finger runs through your wet pussy, collecting your heat as he trails upwards, and uses it as lubrication to rub agonisingly pleasurable circles across your swollen bud.

“Oh, fuck yes” you cry, your hands grabbing at your breasts over the velvet of your dress.

Clearly affected by your outbursts, he slips two fingers inside of you and begins pumping them, curling them up to reach your sweet spot. Your hands find their way under his shirt, and your fingernails dig into the flesh on his back.

“Fuck! Please, don’t stop!” You beg, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“You don’t need to beg me, baby. I’ll take care of you” he soothes, whilst doing the opposite with his hand. He’s fucking you so hard with his fingers, his pace causing a pressure to build up in your lower stomach. You know that feeling, and it’s usually only felt when you are in your own company, with your trusty wand vibrator in hand, but this time you are teetering on the edge of an orgasm at the hands of Jake fucking Kiszka.

That thought alone, and the knowledge that he is currently inside you, is enough to tip you over the edge. Your mind plunges into bliss as you pulse around his fingers. No man has ever made you cum before.

You hazily begin drifting down from your orgasm, but instead of letting up, he begins to pump into you even faster, still curling his fingers up and into your bulging G spot.

“Please, stop!” you cry out, beginning to feel overstimulated.

“I told you to trust me” he snaps, restraining your wrists with his free hand.

You’re writhing under his touch, the pressure building and building within you. The feeling is unfamiliar, but you do trust him.

“Come on baby, cum for me again, I know you can” he coos.

His gentle coaching paired with the enormous pleasure jolting through your body sends you headfirst into a crashing wave of ecstasy. You cry out as you cum harder than you ever have in your life. You throw your head back as you begin to see stars. Jake pulls his fingers out of you and rubs them viciously against your clit as you continue to gush out onto the bed sheets.

“Fuck, fuck!!!” You shout, completely consumed and lost in your orgasm.

Jake lifts his hand to his mouth and licks you off his fingers, savouring the taste of you like it’s his last ever meal.

“I fucking love a squirter” he moans, climbing on top and pressing his hard cock into you.

“Tell me what you want baby” he asks.

“I want you to fuck me” you breathe.

“You ready for more, princess?” He taunts.

“Yes, fuck yes. Please, Jake.” You plead.

He hooks his arm underneath you and pulls you up, so you’re sat upright on top of him. He lifts your dress over your head and exposes your bare breasts, your nipples hard and pebbled. He takes one into his mouth and begins to suck on it gently, which causes you to whimper.

You pull his shirt off and begin unbuttoning his pants. He yanks them off and you delve into his boxers, sliding your hand down his shaft. He groans, a pearl of pre-cum forming at his tip. He runs his fingers through your folds to gather your slick and uses it to pump himself a few times with this before lifting you up and pulling you down onto him. His hard cock slips inside you with ease, and you both wail with immense pleasure. He begins fucking into you hard and fast, his hands finding your throat and choking you slightly, his teeth burrowing into your collarbone. Your mind goes hazy as you sink deeper and deeper into euphoria. The bed frame pounds against the wall as Jake drives his length into you, his free hand stroking across your clit.

“Jake, I’m gunna fucking cum” you sob, tears falling down your cheeks.

“Cum for me baby, cum so hard for me. I’m so close angel”. You can see he’s teetering on the edge himself, his face plastered with pleasure, but he wants you to get there first. His selflessness and desire for your own pleasure sends you tumbling into orgasm number three, that same rush of endorphins flooding through your veins as you clench hard around him and cover him in your arousal. He curses loudly as his cock twitches inside of you, and he’s cumming right alongside you. The symphony of curses, moans and groans light up the dark room with their beautiful song.

You find yourselves intertwined in a heap on the bed, panting and sweating, tangled up together as you float down from ecstasy. He cups your face in his hands and kisses your forehead gently, in a way that makes you feel like the most special person in the world.

“Wow” you whisper, your heart rate returning to a steadier pace.

“You are fucking phenomenal” he praises softly, stroking your hair.

You lay there for a while, in silence, letting Jake hold you.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course” Jake replies, caressing your cheek

“Why me?”

“Huh?” He looks at you, confused.

“Why me? You could have had any girl tonight, literally any girl. Why did you choose me?”

He sighs. “To be honest with you, I don’t do this a lot. I know that might seem hard to believe, given my profession…” he hesitates “I actually recently got out of a long-term relationship myself too, and the last thing I’ve wanted to do is date or sleep with someone else. But when I saw you in the crowd tonight, it sounds stupid, but I knew I had to get to know you. I knew you were special.”

You blush, not knowing what to say back.

“Is it weird if I tell you I’ve had a crush on you for like, the longest time” you giggle.

“Fuck no” he laughs, before adding “you’re only human” with a wink.

You stay up talking for hours, about where you grew up, how many siblings you have, what your life ambitions are and all the other deep shit that you share when getting to know someone. He laughs, you laugh. At around 3am, you realise the time.

“Shit, it’s so late!” You gasp.

Jake laughs and places his hand over yours. “I guess time flies when you’re having fun”.

“I suppose you need to leave; I have no idea what a rock star’s schedule is like but I’m sure it’s busy!” You say, unable to hide the sullen undertones in your voice.

“We actually have a week until the next show, so we were planning on hanging around here and doing some tourist shit. Josh really likes London, something about it being ‘good for the artist’s soul’, whatever the fuck that means…”

“Oh, that’s cool” You mumble, not really knowing what else to say. You want to ask him to stay, but you’ve only just met the guy.

“Do you mind if I crash with you tonight?” Jake asks, smiling softly at you. It’s as if he read your mind…

“No not at all!” Yeah, good going, make it super obvious how happy that made you, you sound like a giddy schoolgirl!

He chuckles, moving forward and enveloping you in a tight embrace.

“Good night, Y/N. I’m so glad I met you today” he breathes into your ear.

“Good night, Jake. I’m glad too.”

#jake greta van fleet #gresties #the peaceful army #jake lane #kiszka #jake kiszka x y/n #jake kiszka x you #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka x oc #greta van fleet #greta van fic #jake gvf #gvf #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #gvf smut

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live-laugh-lenney · 2 months ago

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need arthurtv to teach me how to play chess because it’s embarrassing how bad i am at it

oh, god.

just imagine him trying to teach you one night.

it's cold and wet outside and the weather has been dull and dismal all day with the occasional thundery shower and heavy downpour, both dressed in baggy hoodies and comfy shorts, a takeaway ordered and the room illuminated by flickering candles and wax-melts burning a warming smell of vanilla and clean cotton.

and he's been trying to teach you all day.

chessboard set up on the coffee table, snacks and sweets poured into bowls so you didn't have to get up each time you felt hungry or peckish for a sweet treat, the television turned off and his spotify was playing a chilled-out playlist that gave off vibes of a proper cosy day spent at home.

"if i move this piece here, i win, right?"

it takes him a moment to see if there were any more possible moves to make, having you sit in anticipation, his mouth dropping open once he realises you'd won a game by yourself and without much help from him.

"yeah."

"i beat you?"

"yeah."

and all you can do is grin because of how proud you felt and as much as he wants to be upset by losing a game he loved so much, he can't help but grin with you and celebrate the accomplishment you had finally achieved that day. xx

#arthurtv

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liaa--qb · 11 months ago

Text

A SWEET SIN

[Aemond x Helaena ]

Warning : Dark aemond, toxic, obsession, smut, angst, manipulation, dub- con, explicit, incest, blood, violence

SUMMARY : Aemond spending some quality time alone in throne room after battle of rook's rest which was disrupted by his favourite family member.

Part 1 , Part 2

ao3 link

Note : this is my first helaemond fic, next chapter might be bit dark so be clear of warning☠️. (likes, share and comments would be appreciated❤️ )

PART 1

The clouds thundered, creating a beautiful sight for Aemond. Since his childhood, he had grown accustomed to these dark, thundery nights that he enjoyed more than anyone else, more than any person in his life except his beautiful mother. She used to pour her heart out to him, but now she was unwilling to even see his face. Aemond, her only son, who had stood out for her when no one else did. Despite being maimed, he never showed a hint of pain to spare his mother from feeling alone without support in the presence of strong boys, his half sister, and what he now considered not his own family but Rhaenyra's family.

The night was silent, dark, and heavily rainy. Raindrops thudded loudly on the surface, resembling sharp stones of water sent by heaven to wound the Red Keep and fill the cool air with chills. This environment refreshed Aemond; he loved the cold, heavy breeze, and nothing seduced him more than the loud thundering voice.

Alone in the main hall, everyone else sound asleep, Aemond faced his loneliness, a constant companion. After killing Luke, he had no desire to talk to anyone. The volcano inside his mind consumed him. His gaze shifted to the Iron Throne, scanning from its starting point to its end, devouring it's harsh and harmful aura. Not many found the throne comfortable.

His brother Aegon, despite attempting to hide it in front of others, expressed his discomfort through pain shouts and oily back massages after every session on the iron seat. Aemond knew Aegon would never adore the throne as he did, nor would he ever desire it. Aegon wouldn't understand the fun and satisfaction of sitting on it with the blood of enemies surrounding the throne, as Aemond did.

He moved toward the throne, casting his gaze upon it with thoughts as dark as the night and his heart. The brutal sting of his childhood continued to haunt him, the most painful being inflicted by his father who believed he lacked the courage to tame any dragon. His own father did not stand up for him, even as his half sister enjoyed an entire room of support. Aemond's face lit up with a smile as he recalled how he silenced those old, foul individuals, especially his father and cousins. Even his elder brother Aegon adjusted his tone when speaking to him after that night, a stark contrast to a lifetime of mockery where Aemond felt that Jace was more his brother's blood than he was.

He relished this solitary moment within the dark night. Currently, it was exclusively his, with no one intruding between him and the throne. If anyone dared to come between him and his desires, he would remove them—anyone or anything. As in the end, he believed he deserved this, if not for a lifetime, at least for once. What he deserved, he should take, regardless of others' approval.

Seated on the throne, he let out a long, contented sigh. Only the gods knew how satisfying and relaxing it was for him; the unyielding, needle-like layer of iron provided warmth instead of wounds. It was meant to be rough, precious and heavy. He embraced these wounds, as they felt like nothing more than a slight feather pinch after the rigorous training with Criston since his childhood. Scars were like permanent companions on his skin.

Leaning back and resting his head, he extended his legs on the throne's arm. "Screw Aegon. That idiot doesn't even realize what he was getting and wasted it. All his life, he got everything… everything I wanted. Now, maybe I should claim what I want." Darker and uglier thoughts clouded his mind. Closing his eyes for a few seconds, he was alerted by the sound of footsteps. However, he remained undisturbed because the light, slow, and short footsteps unmistakably belonged to none other than Helaena, his beautiful and angelic sister.

Yet, he couldn't comprehend why a pure soul like her was there at this time. She should be in his chambers.

No not his chamber, in her shared chamber with Aegon. His expression betrayed a fidgety discomfort at the thought of Aegon and Helaena sharing one room. But he wouldn't mind her joining him in his chambers if that's what she desired. Oh, just how if she wanted that ! Aemond thought, recalling the times when his 10-year-old self used to fight and argue with his mother. He questioned why Helaena was marrying Aegon, ranting about a hundred degrading things about Aegon while carefully concealing his own secret desire for Helaena. Confessing such feelings in front of others was shameful, and his heart shattered again upon witnessing their marriage.

However, his desire for Helaena never diminished. Aegon never cared a bit about her; it was always Aemond fulfilling every duty a husband should, and it still pricked him that she couldn't see his love. Never did she express any desire to break free from her miserable marriage with Aegon. Aemond believed he could take better care of her, far better than anyone else ever could.

"Aemond, what are you doing here, sitting like this?" Helaena asked with a lightly sad voice, her teary eyes intensifying Aemond's guilt for not taking proper care of her.

"It's my place, sister. I can do anything now," Aemond's eyes gazed at Helaena, who wore a sheer white dress, holding a cloth bundle in her hands.

"What's that, Helaena?" She was clearly angry with Aemond, evident in the rigid and questioning expression on her face, holding him accountable for everything that happened with her son. Nobody understood that the war had already begun when their miserable father died and Aegon was crowned. Helena turned and started replying lightly, "Nothing, Aemond. Just keeping this cursed precious thing where it should be," walking away from him.

"Wait sister!" At first, she didn't stop. Seeing this, Aemond's voice became sharp and dominant. "Stop! I said." He moved straight to Helena and grabbed her wrists tightly, revealing the crown under that cloth. He took it from her and held her waist and wrist. "It's mine, love. The only place it belongs is with me now"

Helaena's face showed fear, especially as she witnessed the darkness in Aemond's eyes. His sapphire eye, on the other hand, was even more intimidating. His grip on her waist and wrist tightened and toughened, making her certain that it was no longer her baby brother before her, but a devil filled with the desire for power. For the first time in her life, she was scared of him ,so much that she wished he would vanish or that she could run away from him as far as possible. It wasn't that she wasn't aware of this; she had sensed the same cruel and malevolent aura from him when he lost his eye at driftmark, saying, "I lost an eye but gained a dragon." At that moment, she felt the boy lost his innocence too, corruption growing within him. Today, it seemed like that devil feeding inside him, while growing up, had taken a complete form and was ready to burst out.

"Leave me, brother," she muttered while closing her eyes, hissing slowly with a voice filled with hesitation, "It's hurting. You are hurting me, Aemond." She didn't want to look at his face, but he wasn't backing off. Instead, his hold was growing tighter, pulling her closer.

"Open your eyes, Helaena. See me, my sweet beautiful sister" cooed Aemond with a taunt-filled attitude. She shook her head, pleading lightly, "Please leave me." "Why are you frightened, my sweet angel? Frightened of your little brother?" He grabbed her chin tightly, bringing her face closer to his. "Why, Helaena? Were you never frightened of Aegon? Then why now?" released her chin . "This crown is mine, this throne is mine, and… you, Helaena," he stopped, gazing at her trembling form, refraining from uttering his desire. She was so beautiful, like an angel sent from heaven itself. Even in this miserable state, she looked heavenly, her tears resembling little diamonds that only enhanced her allure.

"No more tears now, Helaena. Now you are my responsibility, and I will take care of you. Don't worry about Aegon, mother, or anything else." After a pause, his eyes darkened with desire. He gently embraced Helaena's cheeks, saying, "Just… be with me." Upon hearing this, Helaena shuddered, breaking free from his grasp with all her energy.

"Disgusting! You are disgusting. Do you know what you are saying?" said Helaena, astonishment and anger evident on her teary face. Aemond, with a sly smile, replied, "I know what I am saying, angel. I think you must understand and obey what I say." With that, he grabbed her wrists and brought her into his arms with full force. His hand grazed her soft silver hair locks, while the other held her tightly to his chest. He declared, "Yes, from now onwards, you are going to listen and obey only me. In fact, you all are going to obey me. I am the Prince Regent now and it's not only the crown or throne that I want Helaena."

Helaena's energy drained in his tight and rough arms as she feared the realization of what he was saying. She stammered, "No… no, Aemond. I am your sister, your queen. I am already married to Aegon, your brother, our brother. You are insane. It's a sin, and it's not going to happen. Now, leave me," while struggling against his grips with all the small energy that allowed her tiny frame to resist her brother, who was way taller than her.

He chuckled wickedly, "You are so sweet, Helaena, so pure. You know, the queen title you are throwing at me is only because of Aegon, and that Aegon is now nothing but a walking, living corpse. The maester said he doesn't even have a chance of proper recovery, cannot produce any heir. If he dies, then you would be nothing but his widow with no power... but you can maintain your power by standing with me, obeying me, and being mine. Marry me, Helaena!"

Helaena remained shocked, unable to comprehend her little protective brother's disturbing transformation. "Aemond, you are not in the right state of mind. Think clearly and, for the Gods' sake, fear at least. The sin you are talking about should never happen, and you will have a queen that will be Floris," she said, still struggling to free herself from his grasp.

Anger flooded Aemond's face, evident in his tone. "I think you are the one who needs to understand Hel that I desired you all these years, way before your marriage with our pathetic Aegon," he added, his eyes filled with rage and a slight hint of tears. "Everything I wanted, everything I deserved, was never given to me. Even if I earned it, it was forcefully taken from me , father's love, a dragon, friends, a mother who should be proud of me, this crown, this throne, and you. But now, I know very well how to claim whatever I need and desire, and I will take that. You should be with me, Helaena, not Aegon. He was never worthy of you. I will give you everything you want; name it, and I will place it at your feet, the same way I brought Meley's head for you. I will kill anyone for you. Just say it !" It sounded more like a mixture of a demand and a plea.

"Bring Jaehaerys back, can you? Bring all that peace back ? And can you bring Luke back? You cannot, right… You cannot claim nature itself, Aemond" Helaena hissed bitterly at him. He paused, and she realized that his rage was clouding him; his body itself was shivering.

His hold on her loosened up for a bit, but it only scared her more. To Helaena, Aemond's silence in anger was more dangerous. The moment she tried to move away from him, his hands grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head quickly towards him. "Listen to me, Helaena. I love you a lot, and I do care for you always, but there is a limit to my patience. You know that really well, my sweet sister, don't you? I am not that little boy anymore," he whispered in her ear after briefly smelling her silver hair, as if it were the most enchanting scent. He added, "You want your son back, right? I want that too, Helaena. I feel your anger, but Aegon cannot provide you any child now." He tilted his head, looking at Helaena, who was just frightened. "I will give you your son, Helaena. I promise, our son," he declared, then kissed her cheek and earlobe.

"Say it. You love me, Helaena. Say you want me as your husband as well," he said with a velvety smooth voice and an irritated smile, but his grip on her became more hard and brutal.

Helaena shook her head, fear and anger in her eyes. "Don't do this, Aemond. I'm pleading you." "Say it, Helaena. Say that you love me as well," he ignored her pleas and tension as if nothing wrong were happening.

Helaena was terrified and tried her best to struggle and fight, attempting to free herself. "Aemond! I beg you, please leave me. Please brother, please," she cried. However, she knew it would not help her; instead, it was draining what little energy she had even more.

"Yes, I would very much love to see you beg, but not like this, Helaena. Now, say it," Aemond insisted.

Helaena stopped struggling and looked at him as if she were completely defeated. "Say it, Helaena. I am waiting, and it would only cause problems for you, my lovely sister."

She looked directly into his eyes. "You know, Aemond, you and Aegon have no difference. You are just like him. The truth is, you are much more dangerous than he ever was. In reality, Aegon just did those things without even realizing the consequences they could have been. He never took the lives and pain of others seriously and even himself. He was just a pawn dancing to all your thoughts. You were the main problem, Aemond. Always!" her tone becoming more confident " You were the one obsessed with bloodbath and killing anyone who came in your way. You tried to hide this a lot, but now everyone can see your inner evil self, brother. Even our mother can see it too. Now, I genuinely feel that Luke's death and Aegon's coronation were just excuses for you. You wanted to feed your inner animal that was hungry for revenge and power since childhood," she spat at his face, her mind fueled by the last remnants of determination.

Silence was all coming from Aemond and shock on his face from hearing her answer was visible. She continued, "Now what are you going to do, Aemond? Murder Aegon, definitely. Correct? I bet you were even thinking about this. Then you would kill our mother too if she opposes you, right?" Suddenly, a hard hit on her cheeks made her fall to the floor, her lips bruised and bleeding a little from his slap.

Aemond bent down to her level and grabbed her chin more brutally, causing her lips to bleed even more. "What… what were you saying about me, that I would kill my mother? How dare you ?" Aemond's tone was angry and terrifying, and Helaena was nothing but a crying mess on the floor.

"Oh Helaena, I sure wanted to kill Aegon. If I genuinely wanted to murder him, I would have done it way before. I've murdered him countless times in my head, but I would never do it, even if he deserved it. That rascal is my brother, sadly my own blood. I love Daeron and always admired him more than Aegon. You know, even the gentle soul like him cursed to me that I should have killed Aegon way before, and the same with Criston. Criston always wanted me to hold the power, but still, I never did and never would," he declared. Thunders and lightning outside, shining through the hall window, falling on Aemond's face, made him even scarier, resembling a devil from the Seven Hells taking human form. Helaena braced herself for another possible physical harm and just closed her eyes, shivering and praying to all her gods.

"Gods are not going to come for you, my sweet. Gods were never there for you; only I was," his voice softened again to her surprise. He gently grabbed her cheeks, and something in his tone made Helaena tremble less, calming her breath. He continued, keeping his forehead against hers, brushing her lips gently with his and his nose against hers while whispering sweetly, "Even now, gods would not save you. Only I can save you now, my love. But you hurt me, Helaena. You hurt me by showing what you clearly think of me. You were the last person I was expecting this from. How can you be so cruel to your little brother "

She slowly opened her eyes, her breath becoming heavy under this close, gentle, intimate touch of Aemond. She had never experienced this type of touch from any man; Aegon never cared about her, and the last time Jace was gentle, but only in a friendly way, nothing more. So this gentle touch from her little brother always melted her heart, even if she wanted to deny that situation. Her breaths were becoming much calmer but more anticipatory now.

Looking at Helaena's lips for a brief second, Aemond had a softness in his eyes. "I didn't want to do that, Helaena. I would never… I am not guilty of wanting everything I love, but you are the only desire I am guilty of," he said gently while grazing her lips with his and then slowly licking the full trail of blood from her lips, falling to her chin.

"I always loved you, Hel. You don't even have any idea how much I want you," he murmured while kissing her lips and jawline, licking every trace of her blood. The way he was enjoying it looked like it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

Helaena should run away from him right now or slap him, hurt him, take his other eye out, but her body was betraying her, as if it just wanted to stay with him, under his warmth. She looked at his face and his eye, filled with love. The sapphire in the other eye looked so beautiful. A sudden desire in her wanted to touch it and feel his pain. "Helaena, are you listening to me? Did you never feel any emotion towards me? Did you never like me or even for once realize how badly I was in love with you?" asked Aemond, his eyes filled with sadness and rage, as if he were on the verge of tears.

At that moment, she just remembered her little brother, the Aemond who was just a pretty angry little boy, always stuck to her mother's cloth, who always helped her, listened to her, and many times stood against Aegon when he made fun of her. Where was that boy gone? No matter how much shyness and obedience he showed, Aemond had always found ways to get the things he wanted since childhood. She remembered how, on her 14th nameday, a servant boy who was once close to Jace dropped hot drink on her dress. Aemond almost beat him to death until it became a huge problem for their mother. Then Aemond asked Criston for help to clear this matter, promising him triple times the training as punishment. Also, when he was 7, he wanted a toy sword that was a gift given to Aegon by their mother and the Hightower family. He used to do all his and both Aegon's work, clean up all their mess, never spreading a single bit of dirt like other kids to impress their mother. But he never ate anything, making himself ill for a week, which worried their mother. Later, he got one too, a sword even better than Aegon's.

She moved her fingers to the sapphire in his eye, gliding gently like feathers on that cold stone, and slowly traced her finger on his face, grazing his scar. At that moment, the tension to fight the inner desire was rising high between them. No one spoke a single word for a moment; there was only the sound of their breathings and nothing more. Helaena was lost in her own old thoughts while grazing his scar when Aemond grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers as if he would die if he didn't.

"Aemond," a sheer sigh escaped from her lips. Aemond grabbed her face with all his force, as if she were some precious thing that someone would immediately take away from him. "Please, Helaena, give me a chance. I would give you everything more than anyone else would ever give. Would you not give me a single chance?" Helaena couldn't decide whether he was begging or demanding her love; it was a rare occasion to see Aemond Targaryen pleading, begging, or crying.

"Say it, Helaena. You do love me, right?" He jumped, pleading like a little child who just wants a new piece of jewellery or some new toy. His eyes filled with plead and lust, trailing sharp kisses on her cheeks, nose, and eyes. "Say it."

Should she? Should she accept him? Thought Helaena, for a moment realizing where all her shame had gone. She was fighting with him just minutes before, now sitting still like his doll, letting him do or play with her however he wants. It was wrong of her, wrong of both of them to behave like this, especially when her husband was struggling to even breathe properly. Mother would never be proud; it went against her faith and her religion.

Or maybe… he is right. It would be so cruel of her to reject what his little brother wants. After all, he was there for her all these times. Can she not support him even for once? And he has suffered so much. "What would people say, Aemond? What would our family say? I am married to Aegon?" Helaena whimpered, melting under his warm frame. Aemond stopped and, meeting her eyes, smirked. "Don't need to worry about them. No one should lay a finger on you. They have to do what I say, and we are Targaryens, Helaena. Your marriage to Aegon was already a one-day poignant drama for me, nothing more. We are doing nothing wrong. I will take you in our Valyrian tradition, make you mine," he said looking at her intently, demanding an answer or any gesture of approval, never releasing the hold of her face.

In a sudden moment, he kissed her so hard, like the world was ending, not giving her a proper second to breathe, devouring her lips. His sudden painful bite made Helaena tremble with a lazy moan and, parted for a second to breathe, he whispered, "fuck it Hel, I am going to marry you right now." After a brief silence, Helaena gave a long tiring sigh resting her head on his shoulder "you are so stubborn Aemond" she said, looking at him with dizziness taking over

#house of dragons #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x helaena #hotd fandom #hotd aemond #helaemond #hotd helaena #hotd headcanon #helaena the dreamer #hotd fanfic #got fandom #hotd imagine #dark aemond targaryen #obession #yandere aemond targaryen #brother x sister

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peaceoutofthepieces · 6 months ago

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4 + kandreil for the ask game ? hope you’re doing well <33

you could not have chosen better tysm

4. Shut-Up Kiss

Andrew berates Neil endlessly for running his mouth, but Neil has never known anyone to rant as pointlessly and frequently as Kevin. Sometimes it's almost charming; Kevin's love for history sends him on tangents of fascination every now and again, especially with a drink or two loosening his tongue, and his genuine respect and fanboy adoration for the Trojans—and Jeremy Knox—is almost sweet. Sometimes it's concerning; Kevin's breathing turns ragged and his eyes grow foggy when his mind returns to the Nest, and sometimes, now, commentary will come with it, the knowledge that Riko can't touch him anymore allowing Kevin to tell some of the stories that have refused to die with Riko, at least when Andrew and Neil are the only ones around to hear it.

Other times, it's annoying as shit. In these instances, Neil cannot help thinking Kevin's tattoo is glaringly accurate.

Kevin is nothing if not a drama queen.

"You have been doing this drill for two years," Kevin rants now, eyes full of thundery frustration as he looks down at Neil. "You should have long perfected it, even without the addition of your captaincy, and soon I will not be here to pick up your slack. I do not understand how you expect to–"

The thing about Kevin's ranting now is that it's annoying as shit, but the angrier Neil is at Kevin these days the more he wants him. Neil doesn't—will never—find Kevin's scoldings endearing or amusing or anything of the sort, too short of temper as he is, but he has always found a pull in response to Kevin's fire because of how terribly it matches his own.

The thing about Kevin's ranting now is that Neil can still fantasise about punching him while kissing him instead.

Kevin makes a noise against Neil's mouth, indignant and pissed off and wanting, and the fire in Neil's veins stokes higher, burns hotter. He curls a hand around Kevin's neck and draws him down, down, satisfied only when Kevin's arms fall to his waist and pull him up in response.

They only startle apart when a ball thwacks the floor a few inches from their feet, both breathing hard. Neil feels a savage smile curl his lips at the sight of Kevin's hooded eyes, his lips parted and silent.

Then he looks over at Andrew, who appears as bored as ever to anyone who knows him less, but to Neil is amused and annoyed and interested all at once, if only for how his gaze bores into them. He raises an eyebrow at Neil, and Neil is shrugging before he has even consciously decoded the expression, agreeing yes, alright, I'm stealing your moves now.

"Thanks for the show," Andrew says, dryly, and Kevin makes another wordless noise somewhere between dismissive and craving. "Are you done yet?"

To give credit where credit is due, in the past few months of embedding himself more deeply in them than ever before, Kevin had found the remainder of his spine and has been learning to recover himself remarkably quickly. He presses his palm to the dip of Neil's spine and meets Andrew's eyes to return, "Eager to get back to the dorms?"

Andrew flicks his gaze over to Neil, and Neil obliges; Andrew is not quite close enough, but Neil is more than happy to kiss Kevin quiet again.

send me a number + ship

#this one was fun #there was no question of what the situation would be here #i knew how to do this one instantly #kandreil #aftg #tfc #kevneil #andreil #kandrew #i have a soft spot for kevneil can you tell #prompts #drabble #ty for the ask and i hope you are well too!!

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carlos-in-glasses · 10 months ago

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Thank you for the tags @orchidscript @thisbuildinghasfeelings @kiwichaeng @strandnreyes @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @ladytessa74 @heartstringsduet 💚

This is from Chapter 10 of Where All This Love Comes From. I mentioned it on Sunday but will again: This chapter is perhaps the heaviest and reader discretion is advised.

Sunday September 11, 2016

It's a beautiful, cloudless morning – undisturbed sunrise climbs the silvery windows of One World Trade Center. Each pane turns pink, orange, gold, and then blue. The building is designed to reflect the sky back to itself. A place, TK thinks, where light comes to dance or relax. He’s been inside before – about hallway up, remembering right – because a copier caught fire. Everyone was fine; the fire put out by extinguishers by the time he arrived. It was a thundery day in spring. Rain poured down the windows so dramatically it was like being in an open plan office built behind a waterfall.

“Are you ready, son?” Owen says.

It’s then TK realizes he’s been staring at the skyscraper instead of paying attention to the memorial, the thousands of names etched into granite. An elegant, attractive commemoration that Owen was moved to tears by when it was unveiled. TK remembers him becoming emotional when he saw it in person for the first time, the way he spread a hand wide and planted it over the names of his fallen brothers from the 252. One of them, Lawrence ‘Loki’ Keery, was only identified by his somehow-intact left hand, because he had a small tattoo of the sun, moon and stars across the heel of his palm. Owen, perhaps recklessly, described this to TK when he was just a kid, and TK has never shaken the image of a family burying only a hand.

TK nods. The weather forecast says it’ll be mellow and warm later, but it’s chilly now. He shivers in his blue hoodie, his fists stuffed into his pockets. He hopes Owen isn’t picking up on him shaking more than normal. Hopes Owen hasn’t noticed his face drained of all color, the grayness beneath his eyes, how hollow his cheeks are these days. He hasn’t said anything – not yet anyway.

TK follows Owen, a little sore when he walks but trying to keep a straight back and a good pace. Two nights ago, he got loaded on pills and had sex with guy called Todd or Toby, but then there was this other guy – he’s not sure where he came from...

Open tags and tags under the cut:

Tagging with no pressure ever: @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @paperstorm @reyesstrand @goodways @bonheur-cafe @chaotictarlos @lightningboltreader @liminalmemories21 @lemonlyman-dotcom @alrightbuckaroo @eclectic-sassycoweyes @noxsoulmate @herefortarlos @sanjuwrites @wandering-night19 @redshirt2 @louis-ii-reyes-strand @carlos-tk @taralaurel @fallout-mars @sugdenlovesdingle @sznofthesticks @inkweedandlizards @whatsintheboxmh @jesuisici33 @three-drink-amy @ambiguouspenny @chicgeekgirl89 @theghostofashton @freneticfloetry @never-blooms @rmd-writes @welcometololaland - if you want to share/haven't already ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

#Where All This Love Comes From #Flashback fic #wip wednesday #cig tagged #tarlos fanfic #tarlos fic #tw: assault

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jossambird · 2 years ago

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Rooted in your love - P4: The cost of silence and assumptions.

Cardinal Copia x FIReader, Platonic (?) Primo, Secondo and Terzo × F!Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Hanahaki Disease and all that comes with that (choking, being sick, acceptance of death, etc), Eventual Smut, Eventual 18+ acts, Angst, Unrequited Love... or is it.

Summary: You couldn't pinpoint when exactly you had fallen in love with the newly arrived Cardinal, but one was certain: you had Hanahaki disease.

Chapter Summary: Terzo searches for answers to the mystery that is you. Cardinal Copia reminiscences with a heavy heart on recents events. Assumptions are made, but what is to be the cost of them?

AO3 Link

Part 1 🌿 - Part 2 🌿 - Part 3 🌿 - Part 5 🌿 - Part 6 🌿

To both Terzo’s amusement and frustration, it seemed like you were a difficult little thing to catch.

Try as he might to find you, he could not, wandering to areas of the Church he had forgotten even existed in his search for you.

It was only after another entire day of searching did he find himself resorting to the only person who would most likely know WHERE you were, steps heavy as he made his way to the man’s office.

“Cardinale, you are one of the instructors for Lat-” Terzo spoke as he entered the Cardinal’s office unannounced, silencing immediately at sight of the Cardinal’s shocked face.

There stood Cardinal Copia, a lavish bouquet of red roses in hand, eyes wide as he stood frozen infront of a small mirror. Rapidly were his cheeks coloring, almost matching the roses he held.

“Papa! It- this is not-“ Copia stuttered out whilst hurriedly hiding the bouquet behind his back, as if the act would make Terzo magically forget seeing Primo’s hastily cut roses in his hands.

“Not what it seems?” Terzo finished for the floundering man, smirking as he remained where he stood, leaving the Cardinal’s office door open for anyone to see, should they pass by.

“Sì, it does not look like il Cardinale was preparing a love speech infront of his mirror, my fratello’s prized roses in hand.”

Copia cringed at Terzo’s words, face darkening further as he quickly sat behind his desk in an attempt to appear more serious, trying to remain as calm and collected as possible… well, given the situation. He had thought he had locked the door, thought he had provided himself a moment’s reprieve from his busy day, he thought he had allowed himself enough time to think of what to say to-

“You are one of Sorella Y/N’s instructors, correct, Cardinale?” Terzo spoke once more into the silence that had built, voice firmer as the words left his painted lips. No matter how much the Papa usually would have found entertainment in the act of mercilessly humiliating the reserved man, he found he cared little for whomever the Cardinal had laid his eyes on, mind focused instead on unraveling the mystery that was you.

His words had visibly surprised Copia, watching as the man remained slacked-jawed for a moment before vaguely concealed chagrin colored his features.

“Ah.. N-No Papa, not anymore. Papa Primo informed me some days ago that he and Papa Secondo would be taking over Sorella Y/Ns tutoring.”

All thoughts ceased within Terzo’s mind at the Cardinal’s admission. You were no longer attending Latin classes? Primo and Secondo were tutoring you? Once more did the third son of the Emeritus name find himself wondering just how much in the dark he had been kept from all of this, hands flexing at his sides in astonishment. Had they thought him unable to shoulder such a secret?

“How… peculiar, hm? I wonder what talents she possesses to have caught both their attentions.” Terzo absentmindedly uttered, eyes unseeing as emotions he loathed to feel clawed at his skin, swallowing harshly. Without another word, the youngest Emeritus left, leaving behind him a confused Copia.

——————————

Copia sighed, mismatched eyes peering back at the roses he had unceremoniously plucked out of Primo’s bushes, the feeling of their thorns still fresh on his mind. Slowly did he rise to close his office door, heart thundering against his breast at the events that had just transpired.

Why was Papa Emeritus III, a being whom he had never seen interact with you once till three days ago, now asking about you? What exactly had you done to gain the flirtatious Papa’s attention?

Though… it was not only Terzo’s attention that you had attracted, no; you had garnered all of the Emeritus sons' attention, the many whispers between Siblings questioning what exactly you had done to do such a thing. Embarrassingly enough, Copia found he could not keep his curiosity in check, on too many occasions finding himself listening in to the conversations being had around him at the mere mention of your name.

Silently did his thoughts veer to the words Primo had spoken after having sought him out to ‘speak’ of the classes you required, or should he say, that you would no longer be requiring.

“Cardinale, I have come to inform you that Sister Y/N will no longer be attending classes. Henceforth, Secondo and I will be in tutoring the young woman.” Had come Primo’s cold and authoritative command, no space for protest given as he bid him goodday, exiting just as quickly as he had come.

It had stung, to hear Papa Primo say such words outloud, the realization settling ill inside the Cardinal’s bones that he would no longer see your gleaming eyes again, staring back at him with such thirst for knowledge.

No longer would he repeat a phrase in Latin and watch as your lips silently repeated it, insides burning in need to feel them pressed against his own, perhaps repeating his name instead of stupid Latin phrases.

No longer would he remain seated at his desk after class, hoping to answer whatever questions you (or your friends) had for him, watching instead as you and your friends exited the room but not before you turned one final time, a small smile on your lips as you caught his gaze.

It had only been mere moments after Primo had left to attend a meeting with Sister Imperator that Copia had found himself sipping on a glass of whiskey, hoping that the liquid courage would help him speak to you. He’d needed to speak to you, needed to ask if it had been something he had done, something he had perhaps said. Or had it been his gaze, following your every movement like a lost puppy would, watching with precision each time you moved?

One glass had turned into two, and two into three, perhaps even three into five, his nerves just as bad as they had been without the alcohol.

Hurriedly had he left his office for the day, wobbly feet bringing him to various places he thought he would find you, each place empty of your lovely person. Had he missed you? Had his drunken mind accidentally seen you and not regist-

Oh, he could hear your melodic voice, the sound like a siren’s song pulling sailors to their watery graves,

calling him to his home, to the place he was meant to be, you you you-

There you had stood, shocked eyes wide as you had taken him in, skin almost seeming too pale compared to the red and gray scarf wrapped around your throat-

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the man beside you, the aura that had surrounded Papa Emeritus II menacing, murderous even as his gaze bore into him.

He’d faltered, heart simultaneously hammering at his ribs and sinking lowly within his chest as he had taken in the Papa’s closeness to your person. Even now, as he sat in his quiet office, sober, the words Papa Secondo had thrown in his face escaped Copia, no matter how hard he tried to recall them.

Regardless of what they had been, you had advanced at the sight of his hesitation, dazzling as you’d spoken like an ethereal being surely would, eyes expressively joyful. Oh how you lit up his world; what he’d have given to tell you, to touch you, and oh what he would have given to have been able to let forth the words he so painfully craved to speak-

But whatever drunken lie he’d spouted out had not infact garnered your loving favor, instead causing the exact opposite. Oh how he wished to go back, go back to the moment he had first laid eyes on you, seated at the front pews as he gave a sermon on the pain that came with love and be allowed to do it all over again. Oh, how ironic.

He remembered his drunken mind wondering why blood had been on your lip? Had Papa Emeritus II hurt you? Had something happened to you?

No matter how guilty he had felt afterwards of having thought such a thing of the Papa, his drunken mind had not thought so in that moment, only feeling the need to wipe it away, wipe away the face of pure pain he had brought to your visage by talking, kiss away the anguish he had visibly caused-

Because how could he not, when you were all he had ever wanted? All he had ever craved, standing before him like a being from another world…. embraced by a man blessed by their unholy Dark Lord.

There, on your hip, had laid Papa Emeritus II’s hand, possessive and unyielding in its hold on you, pulling you away from him.

He remembered not what words you had spoken, nor the words Papa Secondo had thrown his way, tone dripping with scorn. Cold had his heart felt, remaining where he had stood for far longer then he would have been comfortable admitting.

But the suspicions he had had were only further proven correct by your collision with him three days ago. It had been a flurry of hands and feet, the both of you stumbling over the other until he had opened his eyes again, hands unknowingly pulling you closer and closer, gripping at your waist like you were the only thing keeping him from disappearing in that very moment.

Even now, the sight still remained ingrained at the forefront of his mind, your cheeks colored brightly as you had taken him in, and dare he hope, coloring further at your realization of your positions. Beautiful were you like this above him, practically seated on his own hips, lips parted as you spoke, rocking forward above his body as you awaited his reply-

He’d panicked, panicked at the thought of you discovering how painfully hard he had become in those few moments, panicked at the loud sound of hurried footsteps coming your way, almost pushing you off his body in his panic-stricken state, mind hazy with both humiliation and want. The memories blurred together, the Cardinal finding himself once more unable to remember what Papa Primo’s words had been when all he’d been focused on had been your shaking form, hands gripping at Primo’s Papal robes.

Copia stood from his desk, and with roses on hand, threw them against the door of his office with all his might, watching as spots of red fell.

Rose petals laid strewn across the wooden floor, resembling a beautiful puddle of blood. There, in the sanctity and silence of his office, Cardinal Copia wept, mourning the love he had let get away from him.

—————————————

Some of the answers the third Emeritus son had so greatly searched for came to him on the most unexpected of nights, a day after his visit to the anxious Cardinal, while equally leaving him with even more unanswered questions.

The sound of soft sobs had grabbed his attention whilst making his way back to his chambers for the night, echoing throughout the Abbey’s halls.

Had someone hurt themselves? Slowly had he followed the sound, stopping outside of one of the Ministry’s windows leading to the gardens-

There, knelt in the grass and dirt of Primo’s gardens, was you, habit dirty as you clawed at the ground beneath you, choking on something.

He cursed, wondering what exactly you were doing outside at a time like this, and furthermore, kneeling in his brother’s gardens! Barely had he begun to move forward, fully intent on saving you until a figure appeared beside you, quickly kneeling down at your side. Terzo watched as Primo gingerly held your hair, heaves and sobs wracking your body.

“Il mio Bambino, perhaps you tire of hearing your Papa say so, but it is not too late…” His eldest brother softly said into the night, his unoccupied hand rubbing circles on your back like a mother would to their sick child, like a mother would… to soothe a broken heart. Flagrant worry permeated the air around Primo, visibly holding himself back.

“I.. fear you will not make it.”

Terzo felt sweat bead at his temples and neck, mind racing to understand what he was witnessing. Had he just intruded on an extremely private moment between the two of you? Too late? Not make it? Before his mind could conjure a thought as to what his brother meant, alert eyes watched as you desperately tugged at something in your mouth, almost as if… you were trying-

You gasped for air, blood splattering out from between your lips as coughs erupted from your sagging form, falling forward into Primo’s ready embrace. Illuminated were you in the moon’s shining light like an unholy divination, silence reigning victorious as Papa Emeritus III beheld the scene before him. Blood visibly stained Primo’s evening robes but no reprimand came from the man as he held you, face scrunched in worry as your shaking arms came to clutch at his form, holding onto him like a child would their mother.

Whatever other words were spoken between you and Primo remained just so as Terzo quickly took his leave, a feeling of unease settling within him.

What wasn’t too late?

Moments later, alcohol in hand and seated in bed, Terzo pondered on the nature of your relationship with his brother; what exactly could Papa Emeritus I fear? What could possibly ail you to cause such a pained expression to grace his old features?

Sleep came fitfully to the third Papa that night, vowing to unravel the mystery that had clearly been unfolding under his nose.

———————————————

‘Bewilderment’ felt too tame of a word to describe Terzo’s hungover emotions the next morning, astonishment clear on his face as he took in his brother’s somewhat relaxed form seated beside you at Unholy Breakfast. When had the middle Emeritus child ever graced anyone with his presence so early? When had Secondo preferred the tame breakfasts served to the Siblings and Ghouls compared to the lavish plates usually served in private to the Papa’s?

Cleary Secondo had not entirely wanted to be there, his very aura both challenging anyone to approach AND scaring them from approaching but there he remained, appearing to genuinely listen to you speak of whatever it was that had caught your attention.

Terzo decided suddenly that he had had enough of digging his brain for an explanation for whatever… this was, moving his chair back loudly before approaching the both of you.

What Papa Emeritus III had not anticipated however, was the face of rancor Secondo aimed at him within moments of approaching, sharp eyes boring up at him, anger visibly brewing within them.

Only one thought arose within Terzo’s mind that could explain his brother’s visible protectiveness over you, his own eyes widening momentarily before forcing himself to relax once more. The words he had heard Primo’s say to you suddenly filtered back into his mind, remembering how anxious his brother’s tone had been.

“Il mio Bambino, perhaps you tire of hearing your Papa say so, but it is not too late… I.. fear you will not make it.”

How had he not realized such a fact sooner?

You were sick. A sickness that would take your life before your time had come. Primo feared it, unable to do anything. Secondo, however, seemed to hover over your every move. The narcissistic stronzo had softened for you, so much so that he had allowed himself to be pulled to the one occasion he hated most: Breakfast. Was it because breakfasts were the most important meals in a day for a woman like you? Yes, how had he been so blind?

You were pregnant with child. Perhaps even his brother’s child. Of course.

“Fratello, how delightful to see you up so early! I would have thought you too old to do such things but I assume this little cara dragged you here, did she not?” Terzo teased, gloved hands leaning down onto the table the both of you occupied, wanting to see every minute detail on his brother’s face as he spoke. Oh how he loved this opportunity, watching as Secondo’s jaw worked, the muscles of his throat flexing in what Terzo could only guess was rage. How marvelous of an opportunity!

“Signorina, would you answer a question your beloved Papa has for you?”

“No lei non vuole.”

Came Secondo’s immediate answer, voice strict as he accidentally drew even more attention to your trio than Terzo already had, eyes squinted in suspicion of his younger brother.

Never had Terzo had smart things to say when flashing a smile like that, as if he had just uncovered the most dangerous secret kept from Mankind. The second Emeritus son did not like it, straightening his back as he unconsciously leaned more towards your form in an attempt to shield you from whatever flirtatious words his brother would throw your way.

“Ah ah fratello, I ask bella Y/N, not you.” Terzo reproached, moving closer to the table then he already had been, dissimilar eyes twinkling as he awaited your reply. You turned to Secondo, drawing his attention with a soft pat on his arm, a sweet smile on your lips he found he could not refuse.

“It’s okay, Papa.” You spoke lowly, anxiety spiking as you noticed the multiple gazes now glued to the three of you. Turning back towards the current Papa, you politely nodded, reaching for your bottle of water in hopes it would allow you atleast a brief few seconds to process whatever words Terzo was preparing to speak.

“Yes, it would be my pleasure to answer whatever questions you have for me, Papa.”

Terzo practically beamed at the visible show of calming his bitter brother, delighted he had been right. When had he ever been wrong? When had his assumptions been erroneous?

“Good! Tell me bella, are you my

fratello’s Prime Mover?”

Instantly you choked on the water you had been drinking, silence echoing painfully around you as you attempted to cough into you scarf, frantic eyes alert as you watched Secondo rise from your side, a lightning-quick hand snatching at his pompous brother’s suit like a snake ready to strike.

“Come OSI parlare di una cosa del genere davanti a tutti!”

Secondo shouted as he shook the man before dropping the hold he had on him, eyes enraged as he attempted to ignore the words his younger brother tried to get out, the sound of loud whispering gracing his ears.

“Fratello-“

You wished you had listened more during language classes as Italian flew over your head, trying in vain to calm the flaring stems and flowers residing within your throat. Your mind however had other thoughts on the matter as it insidiously laughed at Papa Terzo’s words while your heart wished you were Copia’s Prime Mover, waking up beside him instead of in a quiet empty bed, blood staining your pillowcase like abstract art.

Would Copia be disgusted at the notion of you being pregnant with another’s child? Had the slim chances of him returning your love just been dashed for eternity, successfully sealing your fate of becoming a human vase for the Daffodils and Jonquils blooming within the confines of your body?

Oh how you wished for him not to be present in the dining hall for you were fearful of the reaction you would see painted across his heavenly features.

Silence blossomed suddenly within your mind as Secondo continued to yell at his brother, their voices appearing to be under water, swept far away by the currents that threatened to pull you under. Why couldn’t you hear? Why couldn’t you-

The sharp feeling of movement within your throat ceased whatever thoughts you’d had, remaining motionless as your Hanahaki Disease flared to life within you.

You were startled out of your skin by Secondo’s heavy hand resting upon your upper back as he had done many times before, it’s heat familiar, pulling you out of the dark recesses of your mind but not from what felt to be a full flower attempting to make its way out-

Involuntarily, you gagged, loudly infact, hand hurriedly slapping over your mouth in an attempt to shield yourself from the many curious stares boring into your very being. The edges of your vision quickly began to fade, darkness seeping into the corners of your consciousness. Secondo wasted no time as he pulled you off the chair you had been seated upon and lifted you, staff forgotten as he helped you to your feet… hands instead grabbing at your form as your mind faded into silence.

For a flicker of a second, as your mind dissolved into unconsciousness, you could have sworn… a voice called your name… someone… someone you-

Translation:

“No lei non vuole.” No, she will not.

“Come OSI parlare di una cosa del genere davanti a tutti!” How DARE you talk about such a thing in front of everyone!

Tags: @starbentfool

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cheerycherrycandy-resurrected · 1 year ago

Text

Jealousy

Inspired by this gifset from @cardi-c.

Jealousy is an unfamiliar emotion to Cirrus, and she isn't adjusting well to having to share Cumulus's affections with the new ghoulette.

Cirrus x Cumulus Hurt/Comfort Rating: teen, slight sexual references words: 2148 cw: possessive/jealous behavior, on-stage kiss without prior discussion

I love the ghoulettes, and what better way to show it than putting them through some emotional pain.

Read below the cut or on AO3:

Jealousy: it was a new emotion for Cirrus. Summoned alongside Cumulus, they had been inseparable both on and off stage. Bonded. A package deal. “The Lionesses”. Sure, it might have annoyed them at first when Copia would treat them as a single entity, but now Cirrus would give anything to have that closeness back.

Nothing had changed between them when Sunshine was summoned. They had welcomed her into the pack with open arms, and eventually their bed on occasion. She had slotted naturally into their lives, they both adored her, but she had never gotten between them. Not like the newest ghoulette.

Things had started off so well. Aurora was playful and fun, and everyone had taken an instant shine to her. From frolicking on stage with Swiss to her hours spent in the greenhouse with Mountain, it was clear that the new ghoulette had taken to her packmates like a duck to water. She had also latched on to Cumulus almost immediately which, given the current situation, Cirrus was rather less pleased about.

At first, the pair had seemed to have an almost sisterly dynamic, Cumulus teaching Aurora the intricacies of life topside, the pair of them matching each other’s energy perfectly. The trio – and Sunshine when she had time off from her new duties – had spent many hours in the commons together before the tour. Cirrus had been delighted by how quickly she had assimilated into their little family. But since tour had started something had changed, and Cirrus had never felt so alone.

From her podium stage right, she felt the distance between her and Cumulus more than ever. A literal Mountain between them Cumulus had joked at the start of the tour. How right she was. Glancing to her left, she saw Aurora twirling up to Cumulus on her platform. As they continued to dance around each other, Cirrus felt the green-eyed monster deep in her gut rear its ugly head once more. She forced herself to look away, to concentrate on the rack of keyboards in front of her as the thundery smell of ozone began to waft around her. She saw Swiss look her way, concern and confusion visible even behind his mask. Cirrus chose to ignore him.

Unable to stop herself looking back at her mate and the new ghoulette, Cirrus wished she hadn’t. They were closer together than ever now, and Cirrus watched on in horror as Aurora reached out to cup Cumulus’s face in both hands and draw her in for a kiss. Exaggerated, as if she wanted Cirrus to see.

Jerking her head back to face forward, Cirrus felt a rumbling in her chest. As both Swiss and Mountain turned to glance at her, anxiety and unease rolling off them in waves, she realised she was growling. She tried to take deep breaths, to control herself, but only succeeded in choking on her own polluted aura. Was this how Dewdrop felt every time he snarled at any roadie or venue staff who looked at Rain for a fraction too long?

Cirrus drifted through the rest of the ritual in a daze, and soon she found herself being pulled forward by Swiss’ warm hand to interact with the crowd. She did her best not to look at the pair of giggling ghoulettes playing up to the crowd on the other side of the stage, and threw her setlist aeroplane with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She was glad she had a balaclava to hide behind, sure she would be unable to force a genuine-looking smile even at a distance. As the ghouls and Papa gathered in a line for their bows, Cirrus found herself pressed between Swiss and Mountain, each grabbing a hand and squeezing tightly as she desperately tried to hold herself together.

Breaking formation to leave the stage while Papa took his final bows, Mountain pulled Cirrus close to his side.

“C'mon Anemone, let's get out of here.”

The taxi ride back to the hotel was similarly torture. Still curled into Mountain, Cirrus was sat opposite Cumulus and Aurora who seemingly hadn’t stopped their conversation since they left the stage. She had figured it was probably better than sharing the other taxi with either of the two loved-up couples, but with the way the pair of ghoulettes were giggling like they were in a teen movie, she wasn’t so sure. Cirrus tried to focus on Mountain’s warm presence next to her, and he gave her another comforting squeeze, feeling her discomfort.

Arriving at the hotel, the room pairings were the same as they had been since the start of the tour; both pairs of mated ghouls together, and the two new ghouls sharing. Rain and Dewdrop had scuttled off to their room almost immediately, barely pausing to wish the others good night. Cirrus hoped she’d get a chance to talk with Cumulus tonight, she was desperate to find out what the kiss had meant – was it just on-stage acting or was it something more?

As the group went to part ways in the corridor, Aurora caught hold of Cumulus’s sleeve,

“Hey Lulu, it’s not that late and we have tomorrow off, we should go out dancing!”

Cirrus blanched at the use of her nickname for Cumulus, but tried to keep her face neutral as she dove towards her hotel room,

“I think I’m going to turn in early, goodnight everyone.”

“Riri, wait-” said Cumulus, but it was too late, as the door fell shut. Cirrus threw her bags into the corner of the room, kicked off her shoes, and curled up in the middle of the king-size bed. Every fibre of her being ached for Cumulus to follow her into her room, but equally she wasn’t in the mood to host a ghoulette slumber party in their room tonight if Aurora followed.

She sat there silently, hugging her knees to her chest as if she could hold all her emotions in that way, until the corridor went silent, voices disappearing behind closed doors.

Robotically she went about changing out of her travel clothes into pyjamas, pulling one of Cumulus’s old and worn band shirts over her head and breathing her lingering scent in deeply. She crawled into the too-large, too-cold bed and wondered how she was ever meant to get any sleep.

A short while later, she heard doors opening and closing, as the ghouls who weren’t totally wiped out from the ritual headed out to a nearby bar. Normally Cirrus would’ve jumped at the chance of a night of human fun in a new city.

Nothing brought her more joy than seeing her mate being truly carefree, dancing under a rainbow of lights, her porcelain skin glowing like opal. Always the most beautiful creature to have ever set foot in whichever dingy venue they ended up in, her breezy laugh more melodious than any music playing. Her tongue loosened by alcohol, she would coo sweet – and increasingly salacious – thoughts in Cirrus’ ear until the pair would stumble back to their hotel room. All soft words and softer hands, Cirrus would make a point of showing Cumulus exactly how beautiful she was, wringing sweet sounds from her until the sun rose outside their curtains.

But tonight, as Cirrus’ shoulders shook with silent tears, she couldn’t help but wonder if Aurora would be the one to worship at the altar of her exquisite mate.

An indeterminate number of sleepless hours later, she heard the voices of her packmates again. She waited hopefully for any sign of Cumulus coming to her room, until the corridor was quiet once more. A gentle knock on the door had her falling out of bed in her haste to rip it open, only to be faced with the hulking shadow of a recently-awakened Mountain with a blanket pulled up over his head. Cirrus tried to hide how her shoulders sank, her hopes of seeing her mate dashed.

“Sorry Cir, Swiss brought Phantom back to our room, and they’re doing loud and unspeakable things I want no part in.” he apologised sheepishly. Cirrus motioned silently towards the bed. At least she might get some sleep now, she never slept well alone.

“Thanks.” He muttered, shuffling in. “Lus gone back to Rory’s?”

“I guess so…” Cirrus shrugged, climbing back into the bed and curling up in Mountain’s offered arms. “Night Mounty.”

“Goodnight, Windflower.”

The next morning at breakfast, Cumulus plopped herself down next to Cirrus, herself and Mountain the only ones to have emerged so far, and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. Cirrus gave her a wan smile, staying sat stiffly upright in her chair before looking back down at her plate of food.

As they ate, Cirrus could see Cumulus shooting her worried glances out the corner of her eye. She did her best to ignore them, trying to keep her emotions in check. Nibbling on some fruit she had no appetite for, Cirrus did her best to block out Cumulus’ citrus and lavender scent washing over her, it tasted acrid and burnt in her mouth. She heard Aurora continuing to chatter away, her normally bell-like voice grating on Cirrus’ sensitive ears.

Abruptly, she stood up, her chair screeching on the cheap hotel flooring. Cirrus made a break back to her room, already feeling tears pricking at her eyes again. In the back of her mind, she heard Cumulus’ concerned voice over the ringing in her ears.

She slammed the hotel door behind her with too much force, before collapsing face forward into the tangle of sheets. Not even a minute later, she heard gentle knocking, and Cumulus calling her name from the other side of the door.

“Ciri? What's wrong sweetheart?”

Cirrus pressed a pillow over her head, hoping to drown out her voice.

“Will you let me in Stormcloud? Please talk to me, love!”

Throwing herself to her feet and stumbling back to the door, Cirrus wrenched it open with an anguished howl,

“How can you call me that! Aurora's clearly your love now!”

"Whatever do you mean?”

Cirrus drew a ragged breath, sure every emotion she’d felt over the past few days was painted on her tearstained face,

“You've been spending all your time with her, you've ignored me since the last ritual, and you kissed her, it's like you've forgotten all about me! We're meant to be bonded!”

“Oh sweetheart...” Cumulus reached out her arms to Cirrus, who fell into them as sobs wracked her body, letting Cumulus guide her back into her room and into an armchair. “I'm so sorry I made you feel that way, I just wanted Aurora to feel included, I never meant to make you feel like I'd replaced you!” Cumulus rocked them together gently in the chair, barely big enough for the two of them, her hair falling around them in a fluffy silver cloud. Cirrus held her tightly as her shoulders continued to shake, as if she could be ripped away at a moment’s notice.

“And you're right, I shouldn't have kissed her without talking to you first. I got carried away by the energy on-stage, but that's no excuse.”

“I- I just want to feel like I'm your mate again, I feel like I'm losing you...” Cirrus gazed up at Cumulus with a heart-broken expression.

“You'll never lose me, and I'm so sorry for not treating you like the most beautiful person in every room, and most important person in my life, because you are! I'm so in love with you, I'll spend eternity making sure you know that.” Cumulus was on the verge of crying herself, how could she have ever made her mate feel anything less than perfect?

“I should never have got so caught up that I ignored you, and I should've discussed doing anything on-stage with Aurora with you before.”

Cirrus sniffed, determined not to make a mess of Cumulus' shirt. “I'm happy you get along so well, I just don't want to feel second-best anymore. Not when you are my whole world, the air in my lungs.”

Cumulus stroked her hair, her fingernails gently scratching soothing patterns into the short hairs of the undercut at the nape of her neck as she spoke gently,

“You know she loves you too right?”

“How could she now? After I’ve acted so rudely to her?”

“She’ll forgive you. She’ll understand if we explain.”

Cirrus looked up at Cumulus with hopeful eyes, the longing for harmony with her mate, her pack, her family clear in the teal depths still shimmering with unshed tears.

“You always take such good care of us all, let me take care of you for once.” Cumulus clutched her tighter to her chest, the final remnants of Cirrus’ tears choking off as a shaky purr started deep in her chest.

“Sleep my darling, I've got you. Now and always."

#TIFO that an anemone is also called a windflower.#And that I can’t spell anemone.#the band ghost fanfiction #ghoulette fanfiction #nameless ghoulettes #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #mountain ghoul #the band ghost #ghost bc #cirrus x cumulus #em writes

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chaosisdying · 9 months ago

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I was thinking about branded and, what if they had a special class? like for example every branded in the game has a specific class for them

soren can use magic and can transform in that soren-creature I drew

stefan uses swords and can transform

micaiah uses magic, staves and can transform

their thing in the gameplay is that they can transform whenever they want but the transformation will last only 2 turns, because I guess that transforming for them would be more painful and demanding for their body. I mean, since being transformed 24/7 for laguz is already bad then imagine for the branded

I think micaiah transforms into a heron creture and she should be able to sing to two people at the time (like leanne does) but she can't use magic and staves while tranformed. also she heals and restores everyone in the tiles next to her. she will weight the same.

soren while transformed can use his magic to power up his dragon breath™ making him able to decide if his breath will be normal, windy, firey or thundery. he can also use his dragon claws™ (also powered up with magic, his strength stat is simply too low). the dragon breath is really heavy and he'll rarely be able to double with it, while the claw attack is a bit weaker but he can double much easier. his weight will double.

stefan becomes a furry and grows big claws and teeth. his strength will be +5 and his def +4, while his spd will lower a bit, like -6 (lions are heavy). while transformed he will hold his sword in his mouth and attack people just like that lmao. his bite attack will be very strong but it will lower his spd even more, claws are very speedy instead and he will be able to double much safely. he will also weight much more (lions are heavy!)

this concludes my theroycraft of branded in gameplay with headcanons lmao, hope you enjoy these ideas

also I should totally draw creatures micchy and stefan

#fe9/10 #theorycrafting #branded #fe9 spoilers #fe10 spoilers #soren #micaiah #stefan #chaos talks

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whumble-beeee · 1 year ago

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Whumptember 2023, Day 8

“Don’t come back”

Kicked out | Saying goodbye for the last time | Lashing out

The Bee’s Whumptember Masterlist

~1030 words

CW: bad caretaker (pretty much a whumper tbh), killing mention, suffocation, shooting people with bows mention

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“Out,” Caretaker growled, eyes fiery, muscles tensed, arm pointed straight out toward the door. Vigilante stopped short and stared at Caretaker, suddenly not so concerned with screaming and pleading with them to fork over their compound bow.

“I–... What?”

“Out.” Caretaker elaborated. “Get out. Go away, hasta la vista, I’m pointing at the door, go to it and use it to go away and never come back.”

“There’s no need to be so… rude…” Vigilante trailed off, realizing this probably wasn't the best time to be snarky. Even though Caretaker didn’t really seem to get that memo.

Caretaker couldn’t really be saying… could they? “Never come back?... Caretaker, you're overreacting, lets just–"

"NO, VIGIL!" Caretaker yelled, throwing their hands down and storming over to Vigilante, practically backing them up against the wall as they scrambled to get away from their enraged, superpowered friend. “You don’t tell me that I’m overreacting, you do NOT get to tell me that I’m overreacting!”

They whirled around suddenly, stumbling over their words as they tried to form a coherent sentence, before giving up and letting out a loud angry curse to the heavens. They stamped their foot on the ground like a toddler having a temper tantrum and left a cracking dent in the lacquered wood floor.

Vigilante felt the color drain from their face as they stared wide-eyed at the dent. Caretaker whirled around again with a new righteous fury and Vigilante stumbled back into the wall, breath hitching. They couldn’t take their eyes off Caretaker, but they so badly wanted to just look down in submission. To apologize for what they’d done.

“Vigil, we had a deal,” Caretaker growled. Their voice was dangerously calm as Vigilante shook and cowered against the wall. “You apologize to all the people you hurt, the families of the people you killed with that damn bow.” Caretaker took a step toward them with gritted teeth and thundery eyes. “And you’d never use that thing again. You promised me. You promised them.”

Vigilante let out a small squeak as their throat struggled to work up a response. “I-I-I didn’t me-ean to–”

“I let you stay here because you promised that. You promised me.” Caretaker's voice broke, tears sparkly faintly on the edges of their eyes. “I wanted to be the person I needed when I was at my lowest, for you, because I didn’t have anyone like that.”

Vigilante tensely held their hands in front of their chest, wet eyes wide and unblinking. “Ca-aretaker, I’m so-o-rry-y.”

Caretaker stared at them for a long time before their face slowly morphed back into the mask of unbridled fury. “No, you’re fucking not.” They whispered through gritted teeth. Their eyes narrowed, their muscles practically shaking. “You’re just scared of me.”

Caretaker surged forward, grabbing Vigilante’s lapels and shoving them upward into the wall. Vigilante gasped at the sudden pressure shoving painfully into their chest as they grasped at Caretaker's wrists, struggling for any way to get them off, shaking wildly from the pure voracity of it, deafening white noise filling their entire being as their feet searched desperately for the ground. Their head swam as their breathing stuttered against the crushing pin.

Caretaker pressed even further in response, tightening the collar of Vigilante's shirt suffocatingly around their neck. “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t do it again.” They could feel Caretaker’s hot breath misting uncomfortably onto their cheeks. “You wouldn’t sneak out over and over again, you wouldn’t break into the safe and steal the bow back, you wouldn’t go out and get someone killed again and again and again. Over and over and over!”

Caretaker jolted Vigilante and they saw stars. They blinked rapidly, desperately trying to fight off the black slowly consuming their vision. It didn’t work. Their head filled with cotton as it raced away from them at a thousand miles an hour. Was Caretaker actually going to kill them?

“Caretaker–” Vigilante wheezed pleadingly, head lolling backward as they weakly squeezed caretaker’s wrists. “Can’t– I– I ca-an’t–...”

Caretaker dropped Vigilante’s shirt and they collapsed to the floor at Caretaker’s feet, half unconscious and hacking violently into themself. Shivers wracked their body as one hand curled protectively around their throat.

Caretaker just stared down at them with narrowed eyes. Finally, when Vigilante was just barely hyperventilating and sobbing into the floor, Caretaker spoke again. “You’re out of chances, Vigil. Get out. Don’t come back.”

Vigilante nodded meekly, watching tears slowly drip down and splash onto the hard dark surface they were curled up on. “I’l-l– I’ll le-e-eav-v-ve.”

Caretaker nudged Vigilante toward the door, not quite hard enough to be a kick. Vigilante tipped over onto their side with a small thump, and Caretaker rolled their eyes with a sigh, pinching at the bridge of their nose.

“If I ever see you again, Vigilante, I’ll kill you.”

Not a threat, just a promise. Vigilante nodded quickly, not meeting Caretaker’s eyes, and Caretaker curtly turned around and walked away deeper into the home. Probably to Vigilante’s room to throw all their stuff out. Or destroy it.

Vigilante laid on the floor, taking deep breaths and willing with all their might for their heart to stop racing, taking in deep gulps of air and rubbing the wet tear tracks from their face. They knew they deserved this. They knew it every time they stole their bow back, every time they saw the arrow buried into the chest of an unsuspecting target, every time they hit the wrong person, every time Caretaker found out and lectured them, saying they knew Vigilante could be better if they just tried, how they would never stop helping until Vigilante could actually, truly help people. And Vigilante would smile up at them with sad tears in their eyes, thankful they had a person who would believe in them when even they couldn't believe in themself.

They would smile because they knew Caretaker would never give up on them.

Now, they just sobbed.

Slowly, Vigilante built up the strength to finally stand up and stumble toward the door. They wrenched it open with a cry, and walked away without looking back

@whumptember

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