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The Fall from the Heavens (3)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, smut, angst, incest, obsession, violence, swearing, humiliation, chauvinism, mention of injury ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

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When he learned of the death of Daemon's wife, he knew it was a sign from the gods that his time had come − Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragoness in the world, was left without a rider.

He thought that at last he would make his father proud, that he would take his niece to Essos as he had promised her.

It seemed to him that the heavens were finally smiling on him, that everything made sense and was slowly beginning to come together, that he could see above the mist that surrounded him his destiny.

As he fled from the fortress in the middle of the night he thought only of the fact that he might die and hoped that if he did, his betrothed would mourn him greatly and never marry any other man.

Her sign of love and loyalty, of respect for his sacrifice for her and their future family.

Vhagar was frightening and huge, like a giant, dark, moving mountain, with her every movement the earth shook around her; he couldn't believe it when she obeyed his command, his body trembled as he climbed the ropes to the great saddle on her back, he screamed with fear and joy as she flew with him into the skies.

He was like Visenya, like Aegon the Conqueror, and his future wife was like sweet Rhaenys.

Everything was as it should be.

He ran through the underground caverns to wake her and tell her everything, to kiss her, to spend the night in her embrace and listen to her assurances that he was fearless, that he was brave and that she was proud to become the wife of the man who had become the rider of the most powerful dragon flying in the skies in their lifetime.

It was then that he came upon them.

He thought he would never let them humiliate himself again, that bastards or weak, quivering little girls who couldn't even tame a dragon would never stand in his way again.

All that mattered was her, and though he knew she would be upset, he felt that she would forgive him, that she would understand that this was revenge for all the years of humiliation he had suffered from them.

And then Luke cut his face with his blade − he suddenly heard his own loud, squeaky, almost girlish scream and grabbed his left eye where he had lost his sight completly.

He was given poppy milk to ease his pain and a stick was put in his mouth that he was told to clamp his teeth on; his mother cried out loud, horrified when she saw what had happened to him, the maester said the eye could not be saved and would have to be taken out.

That he would be a cripple.

He wailed and screamed, feeling the cut of the heated blade on his skin, struggling and writhing like an animal, tied to a chair, and then he stopped feeling anything, staring dully ahead, his mother and Aegon unable to look at it.

He saw her as if in a dream, and though she always smiled at the sight of him, this time she screamed loudly, terror and fear in her eyes.

She covered her mouth with her hand trying to hold back the sounds that came from her throat.

Then he understood.

So what if he had claimed a dragon, if she would never desire him again?

How would she force herself to marry someone who was from now on supposed to look like him?

He returned to King's Landing with the thought that all was lost and he didn't want to see anyone, much less her.

He didn't want her tears of sympathy, her assurances that she still loved him, her pity, the fact that in order not to offend him she would refrain from showing how disgusted she now was by his face.

He was no fool.

Her letter only angered him − he tore it into little pieces clenching his lips, thinking she was an idiot, giving him books now that he had lost one eye, reminding him that he would never see well again, that he would always be defective, that he would have to learn everything from the beginning.

However, as soon as he did so he immediately regretted it and burst out crying, looking at the pieces of parchment lying on his sheets, thinking of how he wished he could read it again because it was her handwriting, her words to him.

His conviction of his ugliness and the fact that what had happened crossed him out in her eyes as a man she could desire deepened his state into complete withdrawal, sinking into the darkness of his thoughts, fears and desires.

He needed someone to loathe, to throw all his ill emotions at, and he had chosen Luke as such a person, however it was the thoughts and dreams of her that kept him awake at night.

Waiting for her letters was his obsession.

She sent one every two months, always on the same day, for many years. At first they were short and full of uncertainty, but then it seemed to him that she had the impression that he didn't read them anyway, so she began to write and confide in someone who no longer existed, revealing to him the darkness and suffering of her own heart.

He was embarrassed by his own reactions, that whenever he saw a sealed message from her lying on his table, he would take it reverently and sit down on a chair by the fire, as if in some kind of ceremony pulling off the lac and unrolling it slowly, feeling his heart beat fast.

Dragonstone appears to me like a prison, like a black coffin, the sky above me full of clouds. I can't remember the last time light dawned in my heart − when I wake up I wonder for a moment about the meaning of it all, only to realise that thinking about it is pointless, it only sinks me further into the darkness.

It seems that the more I move away from what surrounds me, the greater the silence that settles in my head.

After what happened something inside me died.

Not in the aspect of my body, but in the sense of a conviction that something is missing, like when you look in a mirror reassembled from hundreds of pieces and, even though it is whole again, you can clearly see its cracks.

I wonder, are you sleeping well, uncle? Are you having nightmares again? I often return in my dreams to that night. I see you and although I want to say something, I can't get anything out, just as I did then. I wake up with the conviction that I am still a child.

I pray a lot, although I don't know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don't answer me, just like you.

He repeated to himself in his mind that he would read her despairing, feminine ramblings to mock her, but in fact he was immersed in her thoughts, in her world, trying to imagine her, analysing each word with pietism, returning to the sentences that had taken the most root in his heart and would not leave him afterwards for days.

He read her letters for hours, treating such evenings like a sacred day, running his thumb over his lower lip, staring dully ahead in the light of the blazing fire, thinking of her words.

Although he pretended that what she wrote meant nothing to him, once in a while, usually when he was waiting for her next message, he would take all her letters and read them one by one, analysing how her handwriting had changed, now much prettier and assured, how her choice of words had evolved, rich and full of metaphors.

He knew that, like him, she read a lot.

She never brought up the matter of his or her family, the details of their conflict, their betrothal and the fact that his mother had insisted that he marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters.

When he learned that Rhaenyra planned to marry his niece to her cousin of House Arryn he grabbed all her letters she had sent him over the years, which he kept locked in his wooden drawer, and almost threw them into the fire, hesitating at the last moment, squeezing them in his hand, panting with rage.

Although he kept repeating to himself that it was a good thing he wouldn't have to take a bastard wife, immediately his mind went into a fury at the thought that she might have become someone else's mistress, borne children to other man, and he found himself sinking into her letters again, as if re-appropriating her in this way.

He feared nothing more than that one day she would stop writing to him.

He dreaded what he would do then.

The days when Aegon could mess with him were long gone. His older brother the drunkard knew he was no match for him in hand-to-hand combat, he was taller, smarter and stronger than he was.

Yet it was Aegon who was to inherit everything that would not fall to Rheanyra as future queen.

He wanted to be his opposite in every sense of the word; his appearance made him even more isolated from the opposite sex and he didn not look at women at all, spending long hours in the Great Sept with his mother praying at her request.

If it had been up to him, he would have prayed to the gods of Old Valyria, but he saw her loneliness and loss, and wanted to be a support for her, a son she would be proud of.

Despite what he tried to tell himself, the tension he felt as a man grew stronger within him, even more so in the evenings when he leaned over her letters again, when he thought of her scent, of her hand holding the quill.

He wondered involuntarily what she looked like now, what he would notice if he undressed her, if he exposed her bare breasts to him.

Would they fit in his hand, would they be soft and warm?

Would she moan sweetly if he touched her there?

He tilted his head back, trying to read further, settling himself more comfortably in the chair, his free hand slipping under his breeches, gripping his already half-hard, throbbing manhood.

He imagined that it wasn't his hand but hers that was touching him, that she wasn't disgusted by him, that just like before her hands were stroking his cheeks, her lips were finding his in a sweet, warm kisses.

A murmur escaped his throat at the thought, a wave of heat surged over him and he quickened, fucking himself with his own hand until he came with a low sigh of relief, imagining that she was sitting on top of him, that he had just filled her with his seed, that she was begging him not to stop.

However, when he regained his sanity he felt rage and shame.

He hid her letters in a drawer and did not take them out for weeks, as if offended that it was their fault he had to pray again and beg the gods for forgiveness.

He promised himself that this would not happen again, however, it always ended the same way.

The knowledge that he could not forget her enraged and calmed him at the same time, as if this state was natural, the parallel hatred and desire for her became one and the same in his eyes.

He hated her because he desired her, desired her because he could not have her, could not have her because he hated her.

He locked himself in this circle, not allowing anyone to see what was poisoning his mind and heart.

If in the poems women appeared innocent and bright, she was to him the symbol of his downfall, his flame of his eternal suffering, which burned him every day, but which he did not dare to extinguish knowing that complete darkness would then prevail inside him.

When it became known that Vaemond Velaryon had challenged Luke's claim to the throne of Driftmark he laughed out loud at the Small Council meeting, amused, embarrassing his mother and grandfather.

He thought the gods were cruel but fair.

The grin disappeared from his face, replaced by a strong heartbeat when their Queen conveyed that Rhaenyra, along with her entire family, would appear in King's Landing in a few days to settle the matter.

With her entire family.

He sat by the fireplace that evening, running his thumb over his lips, feeling that there was complete panic in his mind, hundreds of thoughts running through his head.

He wasn't ready for this.

He didn't want to see her.

He wanted nothing more than to see her again.

He was disgusted by her and her brothers, by the fact that he would be sitting at the same table with her.

Would she touch him with her soft hand? Did she still smell of vanilla? Would she whisper that she missed him?

What was he to answer if she did?

Mock her, tell her that she should retain the remnants of her dignity.

Tear off her gown, press his lips to her soft, bare body, saying that he would sooner kill her than let her marry someone else.

He let out a loud shuddering breath, burying his face in his hand, feeling like his head was about to explode, his heart pounding like mad.

He had the feeling that he was losing his mind, that he was descending into madness.

When he saw Jace and Luke among the crowds, when he saw how small and skinny they were compared to him, when he saw their mouths wide open in shock as they realised who they were looking at, he thought he had never felt more satisfied in his life.

"Nephews. Have you come to train?" He asked in a deep, teasing voice feigning concern as he played with the hilt of his sword in his hand, flipping it between his fingers.

He wanted nothing more than to humiliate them in public.

His musings and wild excitement were interrupted by Vaemond's entrance into the courtyard − he grinned broadly at the sight of him, feeling a sense of satisfaction, sighing quietly, thinking of how the gods had rewarded his patience.

He turned impatiently, extending his hand to his servant, willing him to hand him another wooden shield and froze in half-step, out of the corner of his eye noticing a silhouette looking at him from the cloisters.

It seemed to him that his heart knew who was standing there even before it reached his mind, for it began to pound like mad, his breath stopped in his throat.

He forced himself to look there again and that's when he saw her − he couldn't believe how much she had changed.

Although he could see the obvious features and similarities by which he recognised her immediately, her eyes, her eyelashes, the shade of her hair, the shape of her nose and face, it seemed to him that if she had been a bud when she left the Red Keep, she was now a flower that had blossomed, a ripe fruit that begged to be plucked, to bite into its flesh.

He imagined his swollen lips brushing the hollow of her bare neck, the soft skin of her shoulders, the scent of vanilla he would smell and he shuddered, ashamed and horrified at how hard his manhood throbbed in his breeches.

This sight, so clear, blunt, final, completely shocked him, and though it lasted only a moment, he managed to remember the shape of her breasts and hips, the shape of her parted mouth, her terrified gaze full of longing.

He turned away from her, furious, thrusting his sword at Criston, their blades clashing in the air with a loud clang of steel.

That evening he felt that something hung in the air. He felt her presence in the keep and had the impression that if he turned he would see her silhouette behind him.

He played between his fingers with his dagger and looked at it, wondering if he would feel relief if he killed her, if he would then regain control of his body and mind again.

Maybe it was the right path.

Maybe it was because of her that he was unable to move on.

He shuddered and tensed all over when he heard a quiet knock on the door to his chamber − he felt a cold sweat on the back of his neck, knowing that it was her, that destiny had reached him.

He felt it in his bones.

He wanted to remain silent, he wanted to show her that she no longer had access to his world, that he recognised years ago that there was no way for them that they could walk together.

I pray a lot, although I don't know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don't answer me, just like you.

He closed his eye, feeling a squeeze in his throat at the thought of those three sentences that echoed through his mind and heart like a bell, that undeniable desire on her part to be reunited with him that he pretended not to share.

"Come in." He said coldly, feeling the thrill of excitement, his heart pounding so hard that he felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

The door opened with a quiet creak of wood, and she appeared in it, surrounded by the glow of candlelight, looking like a saint, like a ghost, like an innocent, sweet maiden who was lost in the black maze that had always been meant to lead her to him.

He resigned himself to the fact that there was no escape from it.

She closed the door behind her and turned to look at him; he wasn't sure if it was the flames that was trembling or if it was her body that was quivering all over with fear, in her big eyes terror, desire, suffering, everything she had written to him about.

Only after a moment did he realise that his jaw was clenched, that he was involuntarily still playing with his dagger in his hand as he looked at the indistinct silhouette of her naked body peeking through from under her nightgown, her long dark hair loose, its curls falling freely over her back.

He felt his length throbbing hard at the thought of her coming to him dressed as a lover, as if she were his.

He licked his lower lip with his tongue, catching himself breathing loudly.

Gods, how long he had waited for this.

"Did you received my letters?" She asked quietly, as usual without any further pleasantries, her voice trembled slightly betraying her fear.

He shuddered to hear that she no longer sounded like a child, the way she spoke was melodious and pleasant, soft, warm.

"Yes." He replied in a low, deep voice, sounding like an echo in an endless, dark bottomless well.

He saw that she blinked rapidly, as if she hadn't expected such an answer; she pressed her lips together and swallowed loudly, gathering the courage to say more.

She knew she had ventured into the dragon's cave and might never leave it again.

He knew, he felt that she was aware of what was on his mind, that she saw it in his gaze.

"Have you read them?" She asked at last, there was something final in her question.

He parted his lips slightly, lifting his chin in a defiant gesture, stretching comfortably in his chair, wondering if he should humiliate her with words that he had burned them all.

To let her know that she no longer meant anything to him.

He wanted to say it, but he couldn't.

"Yes, my Lady Strong. I have read them all. Many times, here, in this chair." He hummed, running the blade of his dagger across the armrest, making a deep, chiseled line on it.

Go on, he thought, ask me why I didn't write back, what I thought of your tendentious, weepy musings, what I thought of your feminine, touching guilt, of your weakness, of your coming to me now like a dog to beg forgiveness.

She, however, asked nothing.

He shuddered and threw her a surprised glance as she suddenly moved ahead with a grave expression on her face, as if she had lost interest in the subject, making him feel discomfort.

"Does your mother-whore know you're here?" He asked dryly, wanting to take away her confidence, to embarrass her, to strike at her dignity, reminding her that she herself had come to a grown man in such a shameless negligee.

She, however, merely threw him a surprised glance as she approached his bookshelves, the small one he had been given as a child replaced by three new ones, made of oak wood, high to the ceiling, filled to the brim.

She reached for one of the volumes and he felt a squeeze in his throat when he saw that she had taken out The Reflections on the Dignity of the Ancient Philosopher Areon.

"My, as you put it, mother-whore, never knew when I visited you, uncle. I was very determined not to be caught." She said calmly, but with an air of regret and weariness, as if the situation between them was tiring her, as if she believed that facing him like a ghost from the past would allow her to move on.

He thought they both could have done it, but he wasn't sure if the blade he held in his hand wouldn't have cut her neck then.

He snorted, turning his gaze to the flames, involuntarily turning his dagger in his hand − he grinned despite being tense and bitter.

"Do you often visit men like this?" He asked reluctantly, though inside he was dying to prove to himself that surely she had already slept with her guards or other men who would give her pleasure, that the sweet, innocent girl he remembered was long gone.

He heard her footsteps and felt her presence; he lifted his eye to her, surprised, and noticed that her gaze was cloudy, her brow furrowed.

She looked as if she had been exceptionally offended by those very words.

"Have you no shame?" She asked him in a cool, trembling voice; he could feel the pain in the way she asked the question, his lips tightened into a thin line.

He was struck by how direct the question was.

He wasn't used to being spoken to like that.

But before he had time to respond with anything, to finally stab her in the back with words that were like poison, she began to speak, as if a dam had suddenly burst inside her and her thoughts poured out at him.

"I don't know who you are, the man who sits now before me, but if there is even a fragment of the boy I was meant to marry in you, let that boy know that he was and will be the only one in my heart. He was my beloved friend and I failed him. It is hard to live with the thought that someone you loved so deeply has died in a way, but there is neither a grave to pray over nor any hope of peace for his soul. What I fear is that the boy I knew has disappeared among the darkness and is dying in it every day."

He was ashamed that he felt a squeeze in his throat, that he felt a burning under his eyelids, that his heart was pounding like mad, that he froze completely in disbelief and shock as he stared at her wide-eyed.

She bursted into sobs in front of him, as if she was really mourning someone's death, and he didn't know what to do – even if he wanted to humiliate her, tell her to leave, he couldn't get anything out of himself.

He drew in air loudly and his whole body stiffened, the dagger fell out of his hand with loud clatter when she surprised him completely by sitting down on his lap, snuggling into him like a little child.

He had the feeling that she was not embracing him in the here and now, but a figure from the past that she missed so much.

"– forgive me – forgive me – forgive me –" She whined in a desperate, trembling, quivering voice.

He felt he was struggling to catch his breath, his nostrils filled with her scent, the smell of vanilla, her familiar warmth, his manhood hidden beneath his breeches swelled in response to this sudden, unexpected closeness, hitting her stomach.

She shuddered feeling it and looked up at him, her face flooded with tears, terrified and ashamed, her gaze asking him what she had just felt underneath her.

He began to breathe through his mouth, feeling the panic rising inside him because of the heat and tingling he felt in his lower abdomen.

There were drops of her tears on her eyelashes, her eyes big, her gaze hot, tender, terrified, her cheeks flushed with emotion, her lips puffy and plump, slightly parted in an accelerated breath.

"– can I kiss you? –"

He wasn't sure if he really heard it, it seemed to have only resounded in his head as his memory of that sunny day, but involuntarily he leaned lower.

He sighed as if relieved when her arms suddenly embraced his neck, her plump breasts snuggled into his tunic, and her wonderfully wet, soft lips pressed against his in a sticky, loud kiss.

They both moaned into each other's mouths as they felt his erection throb under her again, harder this time − he wasn't sure if it was his will that guided the movements of his hands as one clamped down on her hip and the other on the back of her neck, holding her in place, not allowing her lips to pull away from his as he slid his tongue deep into her throat.

They both trembled as he tentatively began to rock his hips, rubbing against her from below, teasing her palate with the tip of his tongue, overwhelmed by her familiar closeness and scent, her so-needed, gentle hands stroking his hair and cheeks, her thumb running over his scar under his eye patch.

The sight of her body, her sweetly parted lips, her hot gaze in which everything lurked, and her scent, the smell of fucking vanilla filled his entire mind.

He rubbed his already hard cock against the place between her thighs again and again, panting heavily, sliding his free hand under the material of her nightgown, placing it on her naked, hot hip, digging his fingertips into her wonderfully soft skin.

He saw the blush on her sweet, innocent face, her hips in a slow, smooth motion began to move back and forth, pressing what was underneath her; he shuddered all over feeling it and they both sighed quietly as her fingers ran over his jaw.

"− uncle −" She whispered softly into his mouth, exactly like in his dreams, like when he touched himself between his thighs with his hand.

With longing and desire.

He was unable to remember when she pressed her sweet-tasting lips to his again, hugging her soft breasts into the fabric of his tunic, what the reason for their disagreement was, it seemed to him to be completely trivial and unfounded.

He thought it was obvious that the lovers had argued with each other and then reconciled.

That was all he thought about as he undid the ties of her nightgown, sucking and caressing her fleshy, moist mouth, her jaw, her neck, her shoulders with his swollen lips, leaving wet, hot marks on her skin – his hands slid it slowly off her arms, revealing her bare body, her lovely breasts, unashamedly before him.

He delighted in this sight, almost mythological, noble, for breasts were the joy of husbands and the source of milk for their offspring, something beautiful, admirable.

He could feel her trembling all over in his hands, terrified by her negligee; he was sure now that no one had ever seen her naked before him and this thought spread like a wonderful, hot wave through his body.

"− easy − your uncle will treat your body with proper respect −" He murmured in a deep voice trembling with arousal, his large hand grasped one of her breast and squeezed it tentatively; he sighed feeling how warm and soft it was.

She moaned innocently in front of him, making his long erection press against her lower abdomen again.

He grasped her cheeks in his hand, with a brutal, sudden movement drawing her face closer to his, his fingers ran over her soft, wet, full lips.

"− please −" She mumbled, her gaze warm and hazy, her little body trembling in his embrance.

He decided to take pity on her, sliding his tongue deep inside her throat, stifling her loud mewl.

His thumb began to tease and play with her nipple, making her whole body shivered; he felt her hands tighten in his hair, her lips melt into his in a quick, hot dance of saliva and teeth.

"− uh − it tickles − here –" She muttered, rubbing against his swollen erection with her hips, as if she really didn't know what was happening to her, as if she wanted him to help her understand what her body was trying to tell her, however he, hearing this, lost his temper.

Despite the material of his breeches separating them where their bodies met, he could feel her moisture.

She was wet.

She wanted him inside her.

"− it's understandable − you missed your uncle − hm? −" He murmured into her mouth with a kind of tenderness and understanding that surprised him, as if it had been obvious that this was how it would end.

She nodded quickly like a child who agreed with his teacher, who wanted to be guided, to be shown what was right.

She squealed as he stood up with her, holding her in his arms, just thinking about the fact that he hadn't felt this calm for years, the sight of her, the smell of her made his head spin.

He couldn't even remember why he was mad at her, why he hadn't written her back, why he wanted to kill her.

How could he ever hurt her, his sweet little wife?

"− lie on your back − yes, just like that −" He murmured with delight, looking at her partially exposed body; her lips was pink and puffy from his caresses, her breath heavy as she looked at him dreamily, watching as he began to undo the fastenings of his tunic, getting rid of it, leaving only his shirt and breeches.

He climbed onto the bed with a loud creak of wood, not quite sure what he should do, sensing subconsciously, however, that this was the day of their reunion, their reconciliation after years of separation, the figures of Lord Baratheon's daughters and Lord Arryn's son seemed to him nothing more than a joke.

He knew that he couldn't take her maidenhood, deprive her of her virtue even it was the only thing he desired now and, desperate, he reminded himself about what his brother said to him one day.

Then he was embarrassed by his words, but now he thought that he could make use of them.

Aegon spoke to him of how wonderful it was to taste the woman between their thighs, that they quivered with delight when he licked them there, and since he would devour her whole if he could, he decided to try.

She was horrified and distraught when she saw his face between her thighs; he thought, lifting the material of her nightgown above her hips, that her womanhood reminded him of a flesh of a fruit, pink, moist and fleshy.

She tried to push him away, asking him fearfully what he was going to do as he leaned down, but she only tilted her head back as his tongue ran over her leaking, throbbing, hot slit, the sound she made surprised even him.

"− o-oh, gods −" She whimpered as he licked devotedly what spilled out of her, the taste and flesh of his future wife, her proof that she didn't despise him, that she still wanted him, that her little cunt was waiting for him and for his caresses.

"− have you touched yourself here? −" He gasped between one lick of his tongue and the next, her thighs trembling in his hands, her fingers clenched in his hair, trying to rub against his face.

He grinned involuntarily sensing her desperation, seeing that she nodded and ran the tip of his nose over the puffy bud hidden between her folds, making her moaned loudly.

Encouraged, he grasped it in his mouth and began to suck on it, licking it with his tongue; her whole body arched, uncontrollable whines erupted from her mouth. He tried to cover her lips with his hand, fearing that someone would eventually hear it, but she clamped her hands on his wrist, blocking his movements.

"− please, uncle, too much − too much −" She whimpered, trying to escape; he stopped, seeing that her body was shaking in convulsions, surprised how sensitive the female body was and how many secrets it hid.

He thought he now understood why it was Rhaenys that Aegon the Conqueror wanted in his bed.

In the art of the body, one could not be aggressive and brutal as on the battlefield.

What they were doing was some sort of a feast, tasting and satisfying their desires, full of moistures and hot embraces.

He hummed as he leaned down again, intrigued, and slowly slipped his tongue deep inside her, feeling how rough and wet her fleshy walls were, groaning quietly as her wonderful taste spread across his palate.

"− uncle − mghmm −" She mumbled, breathing hard, with each flick of his tongue inside her drifting away more and more, he could feel her insides pulsing all over around nothing.

"− it'll be wonderful to feel it clench around my fat cock one day − don't you think, sweet niece? −" He asked, pressing his face closer to her body, licking and rubbing her walls in place that when he touched it with the tip of his tongue she trembled the most, moaning helplessly, her hips coming up to meet his face, her breathing getting louder and louder.

"− oh g-gods, Aemond − oh gods,oh gods,oh gods −" She mewled, startling him as she raised herself up on her elbow, tilting her head back, bliss and delight painted on her face, her plump, glossy lips parted in sweet moans as if in disbelief that something so wonderfully pleasurable had shaken her body.

It was the first time he had ever seen female fulfilment and it was a stunning, wonderful sight.

He groaned low as he felt how much moisture flowed out of her, kissing her hot, throbbing entrance devotedly, slowly licking everything off, not wanting to waste a drop, even though she begged him to stop.

Everything he drank from her was for him, the wonderful nectar of his sweet wife.

He rose on his knees, wiping his face with his hand, looking at her in disbelief, panting loudly; she lay as if without strength, with her hands spread on either side of her head, her plump, puffy lips slightly parted in ragged breath.

His niece.

"Touch me." He demanded, slipping off his breeches, taking her hand in his, with a desperate, sudden movement clamping her fingers on his swollen, twitching erection, leaking from his own wetness. They both moaned helplessly when, with movements of his hand, he showed her how she was to touch him.

She looked up at him in shame, squeezing his long, swollen manhood with sure up and down strokes, feeling it throb all over in her grasp; he rocked his hips involuntarily, sensing that he was embarrassingly close to fulfillment.

"− fuck − fuck, come here −" He gasped, grabbing her by her hair, forcing her to rise up and kiss him − their lips collided in a sticky, messy kiss, the combination of their tongues and their saliva, the smell of her, the sight of her bare body, the scent of her sex, her moisture around them, proof of what they were doing.

Against their gods, against their family.

He didn't care what happened next.

"− don't fucking stop − faster − fuck-fuck-fuck −" He hissed and groaned low, surprised at the helpless sound that came from his throat, coming with a sigh of relief onto her nightgown, his translucent, pearly spend spurting out onto her, startling her; he hushed her with his kisses, whispering to her between the sticky brushes of their lips.

"− easy, it's just me − shhh −" He whispered, letting go of her hand, allowing her to release her grip, her fingers all sticky with his seed.

"− lick it off − don't waste a drop −" He growled, wrinkling his eyebrows.

She swallowed loudly, all red with shame at his lewd words, obediently licking her finger after finger, looking him straight in the eye. He watched her with satisfaction, grinning, thinking of how obedient and good a wife she would indeed be.

"− you are going to spend the night with me −"

______

From the author: In Stay and love, leave and die oneshot Aemond would not allow her to enter his chamber, he would remain silent - in his opinion, she had forgotten about him and suddenly wanted to regain his favor, which he found pathetic and irritating, not worth his attention. None of her letters reached him through the years, having been intercepted and burned by Otto. The next day, he informed his mother that either she would leave the Red Keep or he would, and she decided to return to Dragonstone so as not to escalate the conflict. In that universe, they actually speak to each other only in Strom's End.

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

What happens when science experiment!reader has a nightmare? (Given her background I imagine she’d get them, right? I mean, whenever she does actually get to sleep, that is…)

Also I love you ari. You’re a gift to this fandom and I hope you’re good xxxxx

Jason woke up in a cold sweat, eyes glowing green and his heart racing. Blood singing in his ears and his muscles seized in sheer terror.

In the hall, distantly, he heard a scream. And other places he heard doors open and slam shut. Heavy steps on plush carpet.

Except the feeling didn't go away. It kept going. Pushing adrenaline through his body. Telling him to fight- when there was nothing to fight. He stifled a yell with difficulty and got out of bed. Opening his door just in time to see Bruce sprint past him "Stay, " he barked.

But- when Alfred was just ahead of him- disappearing up a different staircase that would lead to your room- well. "Like hell," he grumbled. He forced himself not to run. Not to follow years of training to run IN to danger. Into the epicenter of the panic.

And when another scream ripped through the manor, it stopped him dead. He'd heard screams. A lot of them. He'd caused them. But nothing had ever been as soul rending as that was. It made him feel like someone wrapped a frozen hand around his heart and squeezed- hard.

When he could move again, he ran.

Skidding to a halt at your door. It was like a seen from an exorcism movie- almost. You were contorted and your breathing was ragged. Crying. But instead of swearing and hurling blasphemy you were begging. Apologizing. All you wanted to do was go home.

"God damn them," Alfred swore, his hands trembling as he fumbled a kit open.

"She's too far into it now; we can't just wake her up," Bruce grunted, struggling against your sweat slick skin. Trying to get a grip on you and also respect your modesty. He glanced up to see Jason in the doorway, "Help me or get the girls. Don't just stand there."

He hesitated for a moment, and took a deep breath before stepping into the room and walking to the bed. He wanted to go home once too. "You're gonna be okay," he mumbled. "I'm scared too right now." He glanced at Bruce, "What are we doing?"

"Simple injection. It's just the nightmare cocktail. Upper thigh then recovery position," he said.

Jason nodded and helped Bruce shift you over. Realizing that the issue wasn't just that you were sweaty and wriggly but that you were stronger that average and ALSO fragile. So the extra pair of hands made it a lot simpler to hold you in place for Alfred to jab you with a device that looked a hell of a lot like an epi-pen and wait for the horrors to subside.

And gradually, they did. They could watch it happen in your body. Like a wave receding. Where there had once been an all consuming terror there was nothing. A void.

"You'll be alright now, honey," Bruce said stroking your sweat damp hair and exhaling slowly. "You're okay."

"Is she-" Jason started, not sure what he wanted to say, swallowing hard.

"She'll keep her distance for a few days," Alfred said, patting his shoulder, packing up the kit. "But she'll be alright. Lead lining in her walls only does so much."

"Lead?" he asked.

"Trying to dampen it some," Bruce said. "After her first nightmare she hid in the woods for a week afraid I was going to put her back in a cage... Sometimes I think she's still waiting to wake up to a door she can't get out of."

Ahhhhh the commission I ordered for “When I catch you Gege” Chapter 6 was just completed! So excited! Yuta and Junpei ❤️❤️ Art done by the amazing @elsartzz

Excerpt from Chapter 6

It took every fiber of your being to not follow him the last twenty feet to the shed. You doubled over gasping heavily trying to catch your breath from the long sprint. You could hear the sounds of Junpei being beaten as the door to the shed was ripped from the sliding track it was on. Your eyes were wide in shock as the metal doorway was thrown through the air like a scrap of paper in the wind. The weight of it only showed when it crashed to the ground and impaled itself into the mud of the grass field.

Various yells of surprise were heard at the dramatic opening of the supply building before the sheer chaos of hell itself devolved in front of you. Hellish screams escaped through the now gaping maw of the open entry. Pure unbridled fear escaped the men who had beat Junpei as Rika laughed hysterically. You heard the crunch of bones and the squelch of flesh being pounded into the ground. One of the men tried to make a break for it. He appeared from the shed in an attempt to escape retribution. He had almost made it into the light of the outside world when a massive white hand reached out of the dark and clasped itself around the man's leg. Black nails punctured into the fat of the bully’s calves as the special grade curse Rika dragged him back into the interior darkness screaming. His face twisted in terror as his hands scrabbled against the dirt uselessly before he disappeared back into the shed.

A moment later, from the darkness emerged another form. Junpei came flying out of the pitch black, his outfit damaged and his face bloodied from the beat down the bullies had given him before Rika and Yuta emerged into the dark. Upon seeing him you started crying, calling out his name. His eyes met yours as he startled at you being here. You rushed into him throwing your arms around his neck before burying your face into his shoulder. He looked down at you. The fear he felt mixing with new concern and confusion, “Y/n? What are you doing here?! We need to get out of here!”

Junpei’s arms wrapped tight around you as you sobbed into him, “It’s okay Junpei, that’s my friend Yuta. I’m so sorry we were late, I almost failed you again.” Junpei froze his face in an expression of awe as he looked back towards the small shack.

Only silence was heard from the shed now. It was broken by Yuta in a cold and remorseless tone, “If you or anyone else so much as looks at Junpei the wrong way again you won’t escape with your lives.” There were some noises of understanding in the form of moans before Yuta emerged from the shed back into the light. A smattering of blood was on his white school shirt and on his cheek, his clothing only slightly ruffled.

Junpei stared wide eyed at the newcomer as you turned your crying face from where it hid in Junpei’s shoulder to look where Yuta stood. “That’s…your friend?” Junpei asked speechlessly.

You nodded into his chest, your arms letting go from around his neck to wrap around Junpei’s middle tightly. “Junpei, are you okay? I was so scared, did they hurt you badly?”

You and Junpei had your eyes on Yuta who stood somewhat awkwardly in the background. Yuta tried to make his expression disarming with a small smile, his eyes closed. It didn’t really work considering the blood covering him and Rika’s ominous presence; but Yuta couldn’t look more beautiful to you than he did in this moment.

Junpei returned his gaze to your tear stained face. He flushed hard at the concern for him he saw there. A heat went through him as your body pressed tightly up against his own. “Y/n, listen, don’t cry, I'm okay. They’ve done way worse before. Besides, your friend made sure that won’t happen again…”

You nodded, sniffling, letting Junpei go reluctantly before you moved towards where Yuta stood. Rika lurked behind him a wide grin on her face as she examined her claws sprayed with blood. You looked at Rika first knowing she had done the brute force of the job, “Thank you Rika.” You bowed to her in gratitude. You turned to Yuta now, fresh tears starting to fall at his kind expression, “Thank you Yuta.”

He smiled down at you before putting a hand on the top of your head, “Hey, everything is okay now. Please don’t cry.” He lifted his other hand to your cheek to use his thumb to wipe the remaining tears off your face. “You did a great job Y/n we made it just in time.” the hand on your head stroked your hair lightly in reassurance.

You nodded, turning slightly to include Junpei, “Junpei this is Yuta, the friend I wanted you to meet.”

Junpei nodded behind you before bowing in gratitude as well, “Thanks..”, the fear from earlier was no longer in his expression, just a deep curiosity. This shouldn’t surprise you given Junpei had a similar reaction to Mahito killing his bullies in the theater in a much more violent way. Junpei looked down at his feet before continuing, “Can you teach me how to do that?”

Yuta blinked in surprise, shocked that the new boy wasn’t terrified of him. He barked out a laugh in response before saying, “No clue, but I guess we can find out together.”

AITA for telling my mixed race cousin the truth about her racial background?

This happened a few months back but continues to divide our family to this day, and I have my own regrets about it, so I thought it would be good to get some outside perspective.

My little cousin (we'll call her May) was privately adopted by my aunt 17 years ago. Her biological mom already had 4 kids at home, 2 of them special needs, and she was an unplanned pregnancy. But she was also deeply religious and against abortion, so she went to her (southern baptist) church for help. My aunt was a member of that church and was having trouble conceiving, so she offered to adopt the woman's baby and she agreed.

I know all this for a fact because my aunt asked my mom to come with her as emotional support when she met with the bio mom and dad at their home to talk more about the details. I was dragged along (8 years old at the time) and saw the bio parents myself. The mom was white, and the dad was black. I sat and listened to them talk about boring adult stuff and heard both the man and woman refer to May as "their baby". Then I got bored and went in the other room to play with their kids on the xbox.

Fast forward 17 years later to the present day and May has done pretty well in life. She's a straight A student with a 4.0 and wants to be a physicist. She knows she's adopted and knows she's mixed race (would be pretty hard to hide, since both her parents are whiter than mayo and she's obviously not). I never said anything about her being half black, because I assumed she knew. I found out she does not when she was talking about looking into scholarships and says maybe she can get a scholarship for Indigenous peoples. I laugh because I assume she's joking.

May looks at me and asks why that's so funny, and I say because she's not Native American. She looks truly pissed now and like she's geared up for a fight against a racist and says yes, she is. I look at her parents for backup but they won't look me in the eye. "May, I met your parents. You're half black," I told her. She calls me a liar and says that's stupid, because her parents got her through an adoption agency and she knows she's half Native American.

Now I'll tell you, I know my aunt and uncle made jokes about how she "looks like an Indian" when she was a baby. I know they dressed her up in racist "Indian" outfits every Halloween (first I wasn't old enough to know it was racist, then I thought it's not worth the argument bringing it up). I know her cringey online persona when she was 12/13 was called "PocahontasGirl", and her online "aesthetic" has always been nature and romanticized, spiritual Native American stuff. And again, I never said anything because it wasn't worth the argument, and I figured she would grow out of it when she was less immature. I had genuinely know idea it's because her parents have been lying to her.

I tried to convince her I wasn't lying, I tried to get my aunt and uncle to back me up, but May is a terror when she's mad and she was screaming and crying at me for being racist and calling her parents liars so I just left. She's blocked me everywhere since then, and my aunt called my mom to rant about me filling her daughter's head with lies and trying to break up their happy family. My mom said I should have just left it alone, I said May deserves to know who she really is, and how can my mom condone lying to her when we both know the truth? My mom said just to drop it, it isn't any of our business. That she didn't like the fact that my aunt lied either, but bringing it up now was an asshole move because it would divide the family no matter what. Either May would believe me and hate her parents, or believe her parents and hate me.

In my heart I feel like it's wrong on so many levels to adopt a mixed race child then lie about their heritage, and I think my aunt and uncle are just plain racist. But I can't blame May for not believing me and believing the people who raised her. And I truly do miss her, having known her all her life. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

Committed to Hell

Yandere Male Demon x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon, drugging, religious themes/imagery, reader dies but the story takes place in their afterlife, murder, blood, cock sucking, stalking, abduction, general yandere themes, dacryphilia)   Word Count: 2.8k (Wow, okay, so this is a very special post, it is in celebration and thanks for getting me to 2.5k followers, and it is also for Halloween. I have been working on this ALL day. This post has a story with a new demon lord OC, AND, for the first time ever, and there is an audio component of the yandere OC speaking to YOU! I had to upload the audio in a separate post which can be found nowhere because I deleted it. I hope you all enjoy this food, your Halloween Feast, thank you all so much for following me. Please excuse any mistakes as this was not beta read.) (The music in the background of the audio is Horror Drone 1, music by audionautix.com. The voice of Ledlam, the demon, was provided by me, artwork by @solariahalsey​ in exchange for writing. Edit: Art was removed due to being NSFW and I didn’t want to get in trouble and audio was removed because it was cringe and only got 100 likes.)

 One late night you had come home from work and exited your car to step into the chilly air. Two hooded figures leapt from the shadows, putting a rag of what could only be chloroform over your face before quickly taking your keys, stuffing you into your own car, and driving away.  When you woke from your forcefully induced slumber you struggled to recollect the proceedings of the following night, all you knew was that you had been on your way home and now you were on some kind of stone slab in a large room. The walls were adorned with complex runes and sigils that had been painted with something red and suspicious, the room was dimly illuminated by torches along the walls, and an ominous chanting could be heard coming from an adjoining room.  Your limbs were bound with rope and tied to four posts on the cold hard stone block you were trapped on. You thrashed and tried to yell, but your mouth was gagged and your muffled screams of terror only served to let your captors know you were awake.  They stopped their chanting, their unholy prayer to a significant demonic deity, and suddenly a set of heavy wooden doors burst open and a few dozen cultists filed in silently and sat in pews laid out before the stone altar.  One cultist, who you assumed was their leader as he was dressed in more intricate robes, stood before the altar and looked down upon you before turning to face his flock.  “Fellow worshipers of Ledlam, Shepherd of the Shadows, we assemble here today in the house of worship to fulfill the will of our lord.” The cult leader turned back to you, now holding a ceremonial athame. Your eyes fixated on it and tears rolled down your face as you redoubled your yells and struggles. “We now commit this lucky chosen soul to the service of Ledlam.”  And in one smooth motion he had cut your throat, your blood pooling into grooves carved into the altar, dark magic sizzled and popped as the cultist chanted and the arcane symbols were filled with your blood.  Your life quickly drained away.  Now you were in hell, through no fault of your own, in the home of Demon Lord Ledlam. Unbeknownst to you, Ledlam had been watching you for nearly a year. He had used his powers to peer into the mortal realm and find someone suitable to his tastes, that someone had been you.  From the moment he first laid his eyes upon you he knew that, on this very Halloween, you would be sent to him. It was the only date that the veils between Earth, Heaven, and Hell all thinned a bit and those using the right magic rituals and using significant power could bend the rules a bit.  And so it was that upon your death your soul had been funneled here by the ritual of his followers and by the gravity of his abilities. Otherwise you would have either walked the veil before reincarnation or you would have ascended into Heaven.  Now you were confused and in an old style castle. Hell was a lot like feudal Earth had been, society was just often more violent. There were many different territories in Hell and Ledlam was the demon lord who ruled over the largest piece.  You could see from the windows outside that you were no longer on Earth, the sky was an angry crimson red, crashes of thunder echoed periodically as flashes of black lightning danced across the tumultuous sky.  Understandably you were shaking. Anyone would be scared in Hell, but your soul, your very essence, was not for such a place as this. Under normal circumstances only an impure soul would be here. The effect was that you felt much more uncomfortable here than others would, a creeping sense of unease that permeated every pore of your being.  Ledlam, however, was beyond excited. He was putting the finishing touches on a feast in honor of you being here with him. He had all favorite foods, well, as close as he could get to your favorite foods with the type of flora and fauna that were available in Hell, he had his horns polished to make a good impression on you, and he even had the dining hall décor changed to match your favorite colors.  You could hear the stomp of his footsteps approach the room you were in as his great hoofed feet hit the hard surface of the floor. Not knowing what it was you ducked behind a chair in a desperate bid to hide from whatever monster could possibly call this place home.  What you saw turned your stomach, a beast straight out of a nightmare. A colossal demon, well over 7 feet tall, opened the door and stepped into the room. He had sharp shiny horns protruding from his head of black and red hair, his legs were covered in thick white fur and his feet were mighty hooves, his body was all muscle, and his nails sharp and black. An upside down cross was tattooed on the back of his hand and a spaded tail could be seen moving behind him.  The demon was naked except for a bird skull necklace and a loincloth, which was mostly useless, as his large cock and balls swung quite visibly and pendulously below it.  His four yellow eyes glowed in the darkness of the poorly lit room, scanning for any sign of your presence and finding you almost instantly.  “(Y/N)! There you are, come on, your food will get cold!” He spoke with a deep booming voice, one that echoed unnaturally. Ledlam approached you and grabbed your arm, completely apathetic to your resistance and only silently enjoying your terror.  He dragged you into the dining hall and set you down at a small table opposite of him with a large plate of food between you two, evidently for you both to share. You just looked down at your lap silently and awkwardly. Your demon captor just stared at you with unblinking eyes as he smirked at your fear. It was so delicious.  You flinched at that wicked voice when he spoke again.  “How rude of me, in my excitement I forgot to introduce myself, I am Ledlam, lord of this territory.” He reached across the table, put his hand under your chin, and lifted your head up, your eyes threatening to cry just from the pure fear you were experiencing from him and your situation as a whole.  “You need to look at me when we are having a conversation, okay (Y/N)” At this you nodded obediently, too scared to speak, but your acknowledgement seemed to please him as you forced yourself to look at his frightening visage.  Ledlam reveled in your fear, he couldn’t help it, he did not meet too many human souls up in his castle and the few times he ventured out the souls were long since hardened and immune to the simple sight of a demon scaring them, even a frightening one with his violent reputation.  Your fear was just so cute and pure. He could not help but enjoy it.  “Leaving your Earth body behind takes a lot of energy, you need to eat, my little human. You cannot really die in Hell, but you can still suffer.” As he finished speaking he held something to your lips that looked similar to a dish you had enjoyed while living. A little mini quiche.  You managed to speak in a small trembling voice, “N-no that’s okay I’m n-”  “I was NOT asking. Open your mouth!”  Not daring to disobey him, you blushed as you opened your mouth and took a bite of mini quiche that he fed to you. You chewed slowly and took a nibble of food from the plate intermittently to keep Ledlam appeased.  “Such a perfect little human, that is why I had you brought here, you will be a wonderful mate!” Ledlam could not wait to hold you and kiss you and make you writhe in pure pleasure, he had been alone for untold millennia. None of the demons born of hell nor the humans sentenced here were what he sought. He wanted you. A sweet, kind, pure being. Unspoiled by the ravages of Hell, who he would protect and keep safe.  Though you could not speak after hearing what he wanted you here for, your surprise covered your face.  “Don’t worry, I know you are scared, my angel, but I will keep you safe.” At these words you started sobbing. You wanted to be home, safe and curled up in your bed. Instead you had been killed and had your soul dragged into hell. It wasn’t fair.  As much as Ledlam loved seeing your face streaked with tears he did not want you to be too upset.  The demon lord left his seat and tried to pick you up, but for the first time since you wound up in Hell you found the will to run. You ducked under his arms and ran straight out of the dining hall, running frantically, luckily the way out was pretty direct and you wasted no time rushing out the door.    It appeared there were no guards or anyone else around and you rushed towards the forest surrounding Ledlam’s castle. Just as the sky was like an angry wound flashing with dark lightning so too was the forest completely alien. Flora with purple, red, and black foliage, strange animal noises, and grass and soil that just somehow seemed… off…  But you could hear Ledlam shouting for you so you proceeded into the cover of the trees anyway.  It was not a fun experience for you, some of the bushes lashed at you leaving wounds on your legs, you were getting bitten by any number of horrible insects, and just to make matters absolutely as bad as possible it began to rain. Blood. It was raining blood.  To say you were miserable would have been a grave understatement. At least the blood rains dispersed all the insects. You trudged through the forest, trying to put as much distance between Ledlam and yourself as you possibly could.  It felt like you had been running for hours, your entire body ached, and this rain was making your skin itch. You found a little cave at the base of a cliff and decided to take shelter until the weather was a bit more favorable.  But it was only minutes before you heard the booming voice of your pursuer nearby.  “I KNOW you are close (Y/N), did you REALLY think that you could escape from me? This is my kingdom, my playground.” The demonic voice was slowly getting louder, you hid a bit deeper in the cave behind a boulder. “Are you in heeeere my little angel?”  “I can smell your wonderful scent even through the blood rain darling~” Now you could hear his hooves against the ground, drawing ever nearer. “I love a good hunt every now and then too little dove, but my patience is wearing oh so very thin. Wouldn’t you rather get out of this scary cave and go back home to bounce on my cock?”  Suddenly you saw four glowing eyes peering at you in the darkness.  “Ah, there you are darling... mmm… I was going to wait until I got you nice and comfy back at home before mating, but seeing you covered in all this warm blood… mmm… it is really doing something to me. I really don’t think I have any choice other than to take you right here~”  You did not know how he could see you so well, but you backed up until your back was against the rough wall of the cave. As he stepped towards you he uttered some kind of spell that illuminated the cave in a soft light for your benefit, you could now see that his uncut cock was fully erect bobbing excitedly with each step that he took.  For what felt like the hundredth time today warm tears began streaming down your cheeks. Ledlam smirked, you just looked so irresistible like that. He continued his approach and stopped when his precum leaking dick was just in front of your lips. His intent was obvious.  “Pl-please… I don’t want t-”  “Suck. If you don’t get it nice and lubed up then what we do next will hurt quite a bit my little angel~” This wasn’t true, he did not and would not actually harm his sweetie, and his cock made enough natural lube so he did not need your saliva. But ingesting his precum would actually help to relax and arouse you and he relished the fear his threat got from you.  Your lip quivered before you reluctantly opened your lips and he slid just a little more than the tip of his prick into your wet mouth. You stroked his dick as you sloppily sucked on it. His skin was extremely warm and his precum was strangely heady. Ledlam knew it would take a minute or so before his precum changed your demeanor any, so he had a bit of time to enjoy your clumsy nervous sucking.  The demon ran his fingers through your blood drenched hair gently as you continued your task. Such rains were exceedingly rare, to have been drenched by one before completing his unholy union with you was surely a sign it was meant to be.  You licked up and down the shaft, trying to get as much spit on his massive tool as possible, he caressed your face gingerly, careful not to hurt you with his sharp nails as he used his thumb to wipe away your gorgeous tears.  The drug-like effect of his fluid was starting to become apparent. You slowly stopped crying and your muscles relaxed considerably, relieving all the tension that had been stressing your soul since your death. You found yourself more into pleasuring him as you gradually became more aroused.  Nervous sucking and a desire to lube him up to ease future pain were replaced by eager licking and a need to swallow more of his precum.  “Mmm, so good and obedient for me (Y/N), but I think we are ready to do something else little angel.” You looked up at him with a flushed face, desperation and confusion obvious on your face, all your previous fear completely melted away.  Ledlam peeled off your wet clothing, easily slicing through it with his sharp nails. He leaned you over against a large stone and then kneeled behind you, his rough hands exploring your legs and thighs. Unable to stretch you with his fingers with his large nails he instead opted to use his tongue. It slid into you effortlessly. You moaned in desperate pleasure as he moaned at the taste of you.  His serpent-like tongue thoroughly massaged and stretched your entrance, he licked, stretched, and kissed it until you started sobbing again, but this time in needy agony, yearning for more than just his tongue and mouth.  “Shhh, I’ll take care of it darling.” Your demon lover turned you around. You draped your arms over his broad shoulders, dizzy with a need that you didn’t understand. Strong calloused hands gripped your waist. Ledlam pulled you into his lap and allowed you to nuzzle your head into his neck as he slowly lowered you and the tip of his cock teased your hole, smearing thick precum into it, before he finally sat you down on it.  You moaned, literally drunk with pleasure. Ledlam took you to the base, moving you up and down on him, your stomach bulging from the enormity of his shaft each time you were forced back down, though there was no trace of pain or even discomfort.  Seeing you utterly fucked out of your mind as he bounced you in his lap was even better than seeing your eyes wet and full of tears. You leaned against him, nuzzling lovingly against his chest, as he started plunging into you just a bit faster, his weighty nuts smacking your ass with each sinful thrust.  Pleasure mounted in both of you until it could be held back no longer and you both came at the same moment, as he filled you up with potent demonic seed the ritual was complete and your soul was irreversibly bound to his.  If there was any doubt as to who owned you it was certainly gone now. You were Ledlam’s angel from now and into the fathomless depths of eternity.  You were too exhausted from the sex to stand, and too drunk off his cum to think, so Ledlam pressed a kiss to your lips before picking you up and carrying you all the way home.

amor vincit omnia.

WC: almost 3k

“Sometimes you scare me, you know?” 

“And yet you’re still here.”

“With you? Always.”

…

Emily never really knew where you came from or how you became so skilled at killing people. Your background, your name, your scarred, lightning-fast fists, the quick blur of your legs kicking out to slam into opponents, the cold, neutral stare of your eyes down the barrel of a gun or scope as they shot with deadly precision through the air and into the chest of an unassuming enemy. It was all in a fog; all she knew was Hotch told her. You were a friend of a friend taking care of a favor. She was your mission, your objective to get her to safety and out of the clutches of Doyle and his henchmen. 

Your black suit, the stone cold set your jaw, and the resigned yet fiercely determined glare of your eyes were the first things she remembers seeing of you. As you slammed through the doors and snatched Doyle’s hands, twisting his wrists to drop the burning pen, you jerked his arms up behind his back, pivoted around once, and used the momentum to throw him across the room. Emily, still shaking with the leftover fear that Doyle almost branded her, gawked up at the back of your head as you stalked toward the man you were ordered to kill. 

Doyle held a hand to the bleeding gash on his forehead and scrambled to stand. Leaning against the wall, he sneered at you. “Who the hell are you?”

“Your personal devil.” 

“Who the fuck do you-”

Your fist slammed into his abdomen, crushing his stomach while your left elbow hit his jaw, sending his head rolling backward and his jawbone shattering under your blow. You let your body swivel around and sent a kick into Doyle’s chest, sending him crashing back against the wall. You heard his head hit the concrete as he fell back on the floor, but you were already kneeling in front of Emily and reaching for the bonds around her feet. 

She stared at you in astonishment and slight terror, wondering where you came from and what are you? She felt your hands, cold as ice, breaking her restraints around her ankles, and she already had so many questions. Still, she couldn’t make her lips move from their open shape as she stared at your pale face, the stoic set of your lips, your sharp jaw, the way the muscles there—everywhere on you, it seemed—would contract and release, and of course, the glare of your eyes that saw everything. She watched your fingers grasp the zip tie around her wrist, the way they eased under the restraint and gently pressed against her skin before curling around the black tie and pulling. Everything about you screamed vicious, deadly, murderously capable. Yet, you handled her like she was the most precious thing to you. It made Emily almost want to laugh at the sharp contrast. 

You grasped her shoulders and helped her stand. Looking down, Emily realized she was still exposed in her bra, and the fear, still fresh on her, mixed with hot embarrassment. Your eyes glanced over her before turning back to Doyle as if checking to ensure she got there in time before Doyle could marr any of her skin. Emily didn’t know if she felt grateful for your discretion or somehow smaller under your presence as if she was a helpless child who had let herself walk into the lion’s den and now needed saving from her foolishness.

Emily buttoned her shirt and, while casting a glance at your back, watched you move toward Doyle. She saw your face reflected in the pool of blood on the floor, and the expressionless plains of your face with your silent, murderous stare made her blood run cold. You really did intend to kill him. 

She watched you snatch Doyle by the back of his shirt and flinched as your fist collided with his face again, again, and again. The sound of bone crushing against your knuckles made her close her eyes and turn her head. Emily’s heart pounded in her ears, and she could hear herself breathing hard because you were scaring her. Yet, the image of Doyle burning, breaking, tearing—torturing—her in the empty room while her screams rang against the walls, with no one to save her—terrified her.

You didn’t stop until you knew he was long dead. Your fists and boots slammed, hit, kicked, and smashed him until Doyle wasn’t himself anymore. The indignant swears turned into growls that turned into gurgling pleas for mercy. You watched him curl into himself more every time you delivered another blow. You heard—felt—his bones break under your hits, and his bloody hands reached out, palms up, fingers spread, while his head hung and he pleaded—cried—for mercy. “Pathetic,” you sneered at his cowardness that you so easily pulled out from under his facade of cruelty. 

With one final, swift pivot, you kicked his head back into the concrete, sending his pleas to a halt and his body to slump against the floor in a bloody pool. You sighed into the growing silence and pulled out a handkerchief from the side pocket hidden in your uniform. Wiping the blood off your hands, you surveyed your work and listened for Doyle’s incoming reinforcements that would be here any minute due to his failing to check in over the radio. Hmm, they’ll be disappointed at having a fighting party to chase, you thought. Oh well, no rest for the wicked.

Emily still had her eyes shut when she heard you walking towards her. She flinched at your hands lightly touching her shoulders. 

“Sorry,” you said and drew your hands back. “We have to go now. Doyle’s reinforcements will be here any minute, and they’ll have orders to finish what he started. Even if he is dead.”

Emily’s eyes opened and she gawked at the amount of blood you spilled around the room; Doyle’s body lay in a broken, red mess and you just stood there wiping your hands like it was just another day at the office. “Who are you?” She stared up at you and knew she should be thanking you. Hell, she should be kissing your boots with what you had done. It’s the shock, she thought. 

“A friend of Aaron’s. I’ll explain later, but now I need to get you somewhere safe,” you said.

“R-right, yeah,” Emily said. She let you lead her out of the bloody room and thought she saw the slick black metal of your bike waiting for them under the moonlight, but she couldn’t be sure. Her eyes never left your face. While you stared ahead, intent on getting her to safety, she let herself look over the face of her savior. 

…

That was over three years now, and Emily can still remember the complete astonishment and awe she felt at meeting you. How you burst into her life right at the moment she needed you. To this day, there were still moments you frightened her, but in a different way that had her wanting to grab onto you, kiss you, clutch at you as if you were a figment of her imagination this entire time, and any second she would blink herself back into that dark concrete room with nobody but Doyle and his sinister smirk to greet her. It took her breath away and set a fire in her that only you and your gaze, hands, voice, and body could ease. 

After that night, you had remained by Emily’s side, never leaving her, not that either of you wanted you to. Throughout your assignment, both of you grew closer. What was once hesitancy stemming from strangers living together led to warmth, closeness, passion, and a frantic need to know where the other was. Emily found herself depending on you for more than just safety. It almost made her feel embarrassed, like a teenager with raging hormones all over again, with how she couldn’t stop herself from envisioning you with her in ways that made her blush with need and start scanning the room to see where you were. Almost. She felt herself falling and falling hard for you; it made her breath hitch, her heart race, and her stomach feel like it was doing somersaults for you. 

Emily could close her eyes and trace the path of your hands, lips, teeth, and tongue as they drew patterns all over her body. Her lips quirked up at the flashing memories of you, night after night, moving over her with ease and grace, your soft yet strong arms as they held her, eyes that softened and landed on her with a level of understanding no one knew except you, and my god, that smile of yours. How it lit up the entire room with the flash of your teeth and the little speck of dimples that only came out when you were really happy. She loved you in an overwhelming, terrifying, and breathtaking way. She wouldn’t have it any other way, though.

…

After Doyle, you ended your contract with your former agency and moved to DC to be with Emily. By the end of your mission, both of you were falling, and you still are every day, for each other, and leaving her was out of the question for you. So here you are on a plane with your team now, on your way back from a grueling three-week case that left all of you drained. 

Now, in hindsight, it was all Morgan’s fault. He hadn’t known what he was getting into, who he was talking to, or what he was about to start. If he had just kept his fucking mouth shut, Emily thought. 

You and she were sitting on one of the couches, your head on the headrest with Emily’s on your shoulder. Your arms, tired from fighting off an Unsub who just would not get the point and surrender, were resting on the back of it, and you let your mind settle into a soft daze while listening to her breathing beside you. Emily sighed into your neck, eyes closed and breathing in your scent. She fiddled with the wedding ring on her finger and still thought that her life—you—were a dream sometimes. Usually, that was after something startling and gruesome happened, like the case. All those dead couples, their bodies flung and mutilated, threatened her feeling of stability with you. That was when she always needed to get a good look at you, feel you next to her, and let the weight of your body remind her you were real and breathing right next to her. 

"—don’t understand how someone would feel like they need to do that? I don’t care what the Unsub said; his actions were not out of love.”

“Well, his final actions probably not. Maybe it was grief, but grief does come from love, and that kind of love only gives way to feelings that are just as powerful and blinding.”

Emily caught the end of Morgan and JJ’s conversation, and her eyes opened when Morgan said, “Ehh, I don’t know. Nobody can love somebody that much to feel like the world should pay for their loss. I mean, it’s not those couples killed his wife. Everyone knows that.”

Emily knew what was coming next and was not surprised when you spoke up, head still laid back, and eyes closed. “When you love someone, Morgan, in the way the Unsub did, you feel like the world should pay for their death—even if it is irrational because morals are beside the point by then. Your world, your life, your light was taken from you. Killed off. That is unacceptable.”

She placed a hand on your thigh, pressing down as if to say, easy. Silence swallowed the cabin, and everyone’s eyes were now on Y/n, staring right at Derek, challenging him to say otherwise. Emily looked into your unwavering eyes and thought about every time you jumped in front of her, pulled her out of the way, took and swung punches for her till you were certain whoever had wronged her was lying dead. 

Morgan hesitated under your gaze and almost wanted to call a truce, but it was you. You wouldn’t do anything…right? “But the Unsub had already killed the person responsible for his wife’s death, and yet he still went on. The fact that he felt he was saving those couples a fate of misery is beside the point. He became the murderer, Y/n.”

Your eyes narrowed at him and your jaw tensed as you gritted your teeth. He has no idea. Emily’s breath hitched at your expression and your words because you were talking about her—talking about defending her, burning the world down for her. 

“He went on because the world allowed his wife’s murderer to walk free. Those couples worked for the justice system that allowed the man to walk. So, in his worldview, that was a betrayal; he had trusted the world to take care of, protect, and defend his love, and it failed. His actions were illegal and wrong according to the justice system but so were those of the people who allowed his wife’s murderer to walk.” You stopped and smirked at Derek as his face slowly paled at realizing who he was talking to. “C’mon, Morgan, I thought you were smarter than that.” 

“So, so you would–”

“Derek, give it a rest already,” JJ said. Hers and everyone else’s eyes nervously flicked between his and yours—even Hotch glanced at you because he knew of your background and how you felt toward Emily. 

“No, it's okay, JJ. Let him finish,” you said without taking your eyes off him. Emily could feel your leg tensing underneath her hand and saw Morgan’s growing fearful expression out of the corner of her eye. She felt her heart beating frantically, and part of her wanted to reach out and grab your chin to make you look at her and stop this. 

“I-i just think it’s kind of barbaric, acting as judge, jury, and executioner like that when people lose loved ones every day. You know it’s not up to us to decide who gets to live and die Y/n…You’re telling me that if something happened—” he flinched at the murderous look that flashed across your eyes at that phrase. “I-if something happened to her, you really would kill every single one of the people that tried to get to her and all of those that even had an inkling of a hand in it? You wouldn’t just let the justice system do its job?!”

You chuckled at the fear in his voice. “I already have Derek.” He shrunk back at you and looked like you had just backhanded him. “And I would do it all over again to anyone that dared to even come near her with an ounce of malice,” you shook your head and looked at his fearful expression, “You don’t get it, do you? She is everything to me, she is my world and I would do anything for her, no matter the cost.”

You looked at Emily, and your smile softened. “All she has to do is ask.”

Emily stared at you with awe and fear because she knew you meant every word. Your eyes held every emotion, every promise to her and she let herself become lost in them. She could hear her blood pumping in her ears and hardly registered that the plane had landed and everyone was slowly leaving. JJ slapped Derek over the head and muttered, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you have a death wish?

“The plane’s landed Em,” you whispered with a soft smile. You let her stare at you because you knew it still got to her sometimes—the breadth of your love. Yet, you were as calm as ever—her rock and her savior. 

“Sometimes you scare me, you know? Emily sighed and grasped your hand as it came around to touch her cheek. She leaned into it and closed her eyes for a second to ground herself in your touch because it was moments like that when you made her feel like you were not real. How can someone love a person that much?

“And yet you’re still here.” You let your words hang in the air for her to do with them what she wanted while you searched her eyes for the thousandth time for any hint of doubt, any second thoughts. Her wishes were always your top priority, even before your own, and if she said she didn’t want this anymore—didn’t want you anymore…you would let her go. Because that is how much you love her.

Emily let your soft expression—your eyes that held so much love for her they seemed to spill over into all your words and actions—calm her erratic breathing. You scared her sometimes how much you would give yourself over to her, what you would do for her. Yet, it also made her fall that much harder for you. She was your light, and you were her savior. 

“With you? Always.” To hell with the world, Emily thought.

I read the Bruce Civilian and Villain Reader post, it's so cute and fluffy it excites me in the best ways. The following could be requested Bruce being kind of a healthy simp for his wife and her children little by little begin to love their stepmother, and so does she. Just fluff and comfort both familiar and romantic between Bruce and his wife 💖🌸✨

[Of course!!]

You gaze solemnly at the photos of the Wayne Family. A specific photo of Bruce, his adopted children and Alfred. All standing happily all together as they smile for the camera. You then gaze at the portrait of Mr. And Mrs. Wayne, where a tiny little Bruce stood in between them. Faces all aglow with familia love.

Your sulking is cut off by your phone ringing, pulling it out you check the caller ID.

"Unknown Number.." You read aloud, looking around the small room for anyone spying on you. You answer the call.

"Hello?"

"(Y/N)..?"

Your eyes widen at the voice as screams of terror and laughter are heard in the background.

"Tim? Is everything okay?" You deeply cringe at yourself, of course everything wasn't okay. Some stupid villian is attacking Gotham, again!

"No- well yeah! Er.."

"Hey! Replacement! Get your head out of your ass and help take 'em down!"

Your eyes narrow at Jason, or Red Hood for that matter.

"Red Robin, tell me your situation. NOW."

You could hear the second youngest son sputter in horror as you hear guns and weapons clash.

-

"..."

You keep glancing back at the masked teens and young adults in your car. Your hair a mess as bits of ash and blood stained your clothing, where their's were barely a scratch thankfully.

You look at your passenger seat to see Damion stare straight ahead at the road than you. While the others in your backseat were silent. Even the friendly Dick couldn't even make small talk in this straining silence.

You stop the car in front of the manor, but before they could escape the vehicle. You look the doors.

"Dick. Jason, Tim, Damion..." You start.

"Uh-huh, a villian scolding, US..." Jason mutters sarcastically, Damion scowls.

"You have no authority to talk down at us." The young assassin remarks coldly.

You stare the rear view mirror to see Tim and Dicks unsure reactions.

"Your good at what you do."

You say, eyes narrowed and face cold. "You know what your all capable of and that's a good thing. You choose to fight, to protect."

"I choose to kill. I get that you don't want some, villain... To give you, some, "super hero" speech. But I'm not. Nor am I gonna scold you for your job. Just, please, for your father. Be safe, I know you want to protect him and the city. But BRUCE, he'll do anything, for all of you, to be safe."

The teens and adults don't meet your knowing eyes. You chuckle as the vigilantes shoot you quizzical glances.

"I gave up being a villain for him, I'll become a super-hero for him if that is to be needed." You say with a mirthful tone. Damion tsked at you as Dick muffled his giggling.

"Don't you mean to say "vigilante"?" Tim said with a playful tone.

"Sure. If you'd like. If it means protecting you birdies, I'm all in."

After Bruce came home, he was exhausted. He greeted Alfred kindly as the butler informed him of the dinner he missed with his lover and children. Sadden at missing at such a opportunity, his blue eyes lose a bit his sparkle as he thanked the older man.

Trudging up the stairs, he passes by his childrens doors. A weight feels lifted of his shoulders when realizing that they are safe and in bed. They're home.

Once reaching inside his room, the rich man's stomach insides became mush once he stepped in through the bedroom door.

They're you sat on your shared bed, reading over a book as his sons flock to your side. You coo at a few pictures inside the book Dick noticed his father's presence. Welcoming him in as big dopey grin crawls on your face.

The boys say goodnight to their father as they speed off to their rooms. Bruce approached you, sitting next to you quietly as he looks at what you were reading.

A grin forms over his face at the pictures. A small scrapbook of you and his sons rested in your hands.

"There's still more spots and pages to fill. Don't you think?" You ask, before you could talk about the adventures you and the boys went on earlier in the day before Bruce came home, the man tackles you down. Peppering your knuckles and arms with fast kisses. A dopey grin on his face, just like yours.

[I need to write yandere reader x batman. Plus other characters too!!]

Desert Rose

Chapter 1 ~ Introductions

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 1

✧ Word Count : 4.2k

In this chapter ~ In a life full of unexpected turns, this one by far hit Rose the hardest. A disease begins to spread when the dead are somehow brought back to life, that alone being the tip of the iceberg of what she remains to be faced with. When it all leads to her fighting for her life in Atlanta, she meets a group that ends up saving her from what she thought was the end of her rope. But when they bring her along for their great escape out of the dead infested city, she's faced with a decision that seemed to be more difficult than she first realized.

AN ~ Hi! So this is my very first post and series on tumblr and I’m still very much trying to get the feel of things lol. I originally uploaded the first two seasons of this fanfiction to wattpad and am still uploading frequently there, but I also wanted to give this a try as well. Just putting it on a different platform for more people to see:)

I will admit before you read, I started writing this story a little while ago so the phrasing and writing might be a little rusty at first seeing as I was just starting out. But I promise it gets better as it goes on, trust me! I hope whoever reads this grows to love it as much as I do. I will be uploading here as much as I can and adjusting to the new feel of things on here as quick as I can.

And I think that’s all for now! I hope you enjoy!

Fear.

That's the only emotion anyone ever feels anymore, or that's at least what I believe. Considering I've been on my own since the beginning, fear is something that I've had to grow accustomed to. And the world going to shit only made me realize how alone I truly was. Sure, I had a family but ever since I grew up and left them completely, I've never liked to talk about them much, mostly because they didn't care about me whatsoever. I mean, I'm on my own for a reason.

But I knew how to take care of myself pretty well and I was always silently thankful for that. I couldn't imagine living in this world and not knowing how to fight, or fend for yourself, so I considered myself lucky. I caught on quickly when it came time to start killing the dead, the very first time I had taken one out still haunts me to this day, the first feeling of fear I had felt in a very long time. I've learned the hard way that you never quite shake the feeling.

I had a day off from work, which was rare, and I was just in my apartment painting while the T.V. played quietly in the background. But then the whole atmosphere changed, nearly in a split second it felt like. My ears instantly perked up when I heard blood curdling screams coming from the hallway just outside, instantly sending me flying to the front door to press my ear up against the surface. Though when the screams didn't die down, I slowly opened my door to see two disgusting looking corpses going after a few of my neighbors. I froze at the scene in front of me.

They were trying to fight them off with random weapons clutched tightly in their hands, flinching away as they tried desperately to push them back, screaming in utter terror. A part of me was torn, not wanting to step in and actually kill these things that looked exactly like us. People. But these things were no longer human, anyone could see that from a mile away.

I snapped back into reality and rushed into my apartment to grab a large steak knife from my kitchen drawer, trying to help them kill whatever the hell these things were. Rushing into the hallway, I shoved the thing up against the wall to get it away from the small group that had formed around it, causing it to growl loudly as it looked directly at me. Goosebumps formed on my skin at the sight, quickly twirling the knife around to stab it in the chest, but it continued to flail around in my grasp. My eyes widened as the thing didn't seem the least bit phased, trying again and again desperately to get its clawing hands away from me.

But finally it a fit of aggravation, I took my knife and stabbed it right in between its eyes, silencing it completely as it fell limp out of my hold and onto the carpeted floor. My breathing was heavy as the others continued to panic loudly from just behind my head, but I stayed completely still as I couldn't take my eyes away from the thing. I felt disgusting, horrified, and clueless all at once. Though one thing I did know was that I couldn't stay here.

I didn't hesitate then to storm back into my home and pack a larger bag full of my stuff to evacuate, knowing that this couldn't have just been happening here. Curiosity got the better of me as I flipped through the T.V. channels quickly, landing on the news which showed utter chaos and live footage of these things attacking more people. My heart seemed to stop for a moment as I watched, seeing that the world was nearly coming to an end as tanks were flooding down the streets, trying to take these things out and put an end to it before it spread.

I didn't know what to do, or where I would go, but I wanted to get as far away from here as possible. Looking into the dead eyes of the monster really didn't sit too well with me.

Though after that day, life was never the same. The dead slowly took over everything, killing off anyone they could get a hold of and silencing the world completely. Leaving everyone left alive utterly terrified and alone.

Two whole months had passed since the dreaded outbreak, and I found myself to be moving constantly. Never staying in the same place for too long, before packing up to move on and stay alive. That's truly all that mattered anymore.

I somehow ended up in the city of Atlanta just passing through the large structures hoping to gather some supplies before moving on all over again. But what I didn't expect was to see hundreds of walkers filling the streets instead. My eyes widened at the sight as soon as I turned the corner, hoping to just silently slip away as I backed up from the giant swarm of them. But a few of their heads turned as they somehow spotted me, and then the "few" turned into a shit ton.

I practically sprinted in the other direction as fast as I could, slipping in between a few buildings to try and escape the many that chased me with outstretched hands. But I quickly realized that the space I ran into was an alley, blocking off the other side in which I planned to escape. My stomach flipped as I slowly turned back around to face the dead, seeming to accept my fate as I was trapped and had no escape.

And that brings me to today. No, I didn't die...but if I'm being honest a part of me wished that I had.

Instead of feeling the corpse's dead fingers tearing into me, a few live people came out of nowhere in the tall building to my right and began killing off the corpses one by one, right before my eyes. I stood completely still as I thought at first I might be dreaming, but one of the men quickly grabbing my arm and pulling me along like a rag doll told me it was far from that.

Anyone else would be grateful for these people being at the right place at the right time, but I didn't work too well with others so grateful isn't really the word I would use.

So, currently you could say I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place as I racked my brain, trying to figure out how to get out of the situation I was put in. One of the men that had saved me was wearing a God awful hat that made me want to walk back in the herd of walkers. His name, I learned, was Rick Grimes and he and his group were the ones that helped me get out of the pickle I got myself in, along with dragging me with them as they too escaped from the large city of Atlanta. From what I overheard the others talking loudly about, they had just managed to save Rick as well, who was having just as bad of a day as I was, an hour before they saved me. To me it looked like we were both just random strangers that they decided to pick up like lost dogs.

The rest of the group seemed to be nice enough, except for this asshole Merle who was this racist, sexist, piece of shit. Spewing out bullshit and insults from his lips every five minutes and only pushing me further into wanting to walk towards the flesh eating monsters. Though, to make a very long story short, we ended up leaving him handcuffed up on the roof of a building where we were once trapped on top of. Though much to my surprise, it wasn't on purpose. Rick eventually had enough of the man's bullshit and took his fancy, shiny handcuffs to lock him in place on a metal pole, and a man named T-Dog accidentally dropped the key to unlock him down a drain.

But when the time came, we had no choice but to leave him when the dead were chasing us once more as they somehow had gotten into the building. The only option we really had now was to maybe go back for him later. Maybe. But to put it into perspective on how uncomfortable I was with these people, riding in this truck with them to their camp...I would rather switch places with Merle.

I was suddenly pulled out of my thoughts when the truck we were riding in stopped abruptly, assuming we were at the camp these people were talking so much about. I took a second to lean forward and glance out the windshield at my surroundings, not liking the feeling that was forming in my gut at the thought of meeting anyone new. But Rick caught me scanning the area, reading my expression from where he sat in the passenger seat and clearly sensed my nerves.

He eventually caught my eye as I felt him staring right as he began to speak, "Don't worry, we're in this together." he assured, flashing a half smile at me that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

I raised my eyebrows. Oh, thank God we're "in this together."

The guy who was driving, who I learned was named Morales, told us to come out and meet everyone with a nod as he jumped out of the truck to run to his family. I shared another uneasy look with Rick before slowly following his actions to see for myself what I would be dealing with. My eyes scanned through everyone that was gathered around and instantly all eyes were on me once they heard my door slam shut. I grew uncomfortable at all the watchful eyes boring holes straight into my forehead, and a man named Glenn eventually stepped up when he sensed the obvious tension.

"Guys, this is Rosaline. We saved her back in the city. She's cool." he assured with a smile, silently telling all of them to back off.

I shifted uncomfortably, "Rose." I corrected.

It seemed after I opened my mouth to speak everyone relaxed slightly, thinking that I wouldn't be much of a threat. Though I could be. But they didn't need to know that. I didn't plan on hurting these people or taking their fishing poles unless they tried anything. But by the looks of it, some of these people looked like they wouldn't even kill a fly, so I think it was safe to say I was good.

Though all of a sudden, the whole atmosphere seemed to change, everything happening in slow motion as a few people stared at me wide eyed. A man, a woman, and a kid. I stood still there for a moment wondering what I did to make these people stare daggers at me like this until I heard a small gasp from behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Rick standing there in awe with the same expression that they had as he stared at them in disbelief. I soon realized that they were looking just behind me the entire time and quickly stepped off to the side as fast as I could.

Well, that's fucking embarrassing.

The little boy then took off in a flash towards Rick, screaming "Dad!" as he cried and then it all seemed to click in my head. This was the family Rick briefly mentioned to the group back when we were on the roof of the tall building back in the city. The family he had been trying desperately to find. They had been here the whole time.

My eyes stayed on the small family as they reunited with laughter and tears, almost feeling myself smile at the sight. Though I snapped out of it with a shake of my head, stopping it before I could let it happen.

After the moment had passed, that only came time for very long and boring introductions as Rick and I seemed to meet everyone else in the camp. I nodded towards everyone politely as I learned each of their names that I would surely accidentally forget. But one name seemed to really stick out to me amongst the many others.

Someone briefly mentioned that there was another man who lived with them, one who wasn't here at the time. Merle's brother, Daryl. And here I thought one was enough.

However, I had yet to meet the second one because the older man, Dale informed me he was currently out on a hunt somewhere in the woods just ahead of us. But the truth was I didn't need to meet the man to know that he was an asshole just like the one we left behind. I mean they are related after all.

The entire group then sat around a fire once the sun finally set, eating something small they cooked for the night, while discussing some random things that people would occasionally bring up. But the hot topic currently, was what needed to be said to Daryl once he got back. In my mind it was pretty simple, but it was clear these people didn't want to be too harsh about it.

"What should we say to him?" Dale asked.

"We tell him the truth," Rick stated simply, "I'll tell him, I mean I was the one who cuffed him."

"No, I'll tell him I'm the one who dropped the key." T-Dog piped in as he finished the remaining food on his plate.

Glenn sighed and went on to say, "I don't mean to bring race into this but...it might sound better coming from a white guy."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes hearing them going back and forth about what to tell him, hearing the same things being said over and over again. I stayed completely silent as I thought more to myself, slowly tuning their conversation out as I planned my escape from this hell hole. Coming here was clearly a big mistake and I realized that the moment I stepped foot inside, I didn't belong with the rest of them. I was better off alone.

And what seemed to annoy me the most is that I didn't have a choice, they just dragged me back here without even asking, without a care in the world. To me, that alone was a good enough reason to get the fuck out of here.

The group finally decided after what felt like hours that Rick would be the one to tell Daryl about his brother, and eventually it grew much later in the night as everyone began to go their separate ways. I planned to just head off into the forest to sleep against a nearby tree for a few hours, then slip away in the early morning before any of them had a chance to notice.

I began to gather my stuff, strapping my backpack across my shoulders and stepping over the few large rocks in my way to head towards the tree line. But just as I was about to get the smallest taste of freedom, a voice calling out behind me caused me to stop.

"Hey Rose!" I recognized Dale's voice softly shout.

My chest raised up and down with a deep sigh, turning around to face him as I looked at him expectantly. "I know you don't have a place to sleep tonight, but we have some room in the RV..." he trailed off.

I continued to stare at him, hardly showing any emotion on my face at all as I tried to read him, figuring out what his intentions were.

He continued, "Look, I know you're new and clearly don't trust any of us just yet, but I just want to make sure you have a safe place to sleep. You don't have to, I just thought I would offer." he said, finishing with a smile.

I could tell by that alone that Dale was a good person and a decent man. There were definitely some people in this group that gave me a bad feeling right off the bat, but Dale wasn't one of them. But I needed to get away so I could leave. I only wanted this group to be a distant memory in the back of my mind and nothing more.

So, with that I shook my head, "I'm okay." I said as politely as I could before heading off into the forest.

I could hear him sigh from behind me as I walked away but I didn't let it bother me. I needed to go. A part of me didn't even want to sleep so I could get a head start and further away, but I was fairly tired from running for my life throughout the day. So I figured I could sleep for a couple of hours and before anyone could wake up, I would leave and head off to...well anywhere but here.

My eyes groggily peeled open the following morning just before the sun began to rise over the hills, looking at it made me guess was it was around four in the morning. I yawned and stretched slowly before standing up to my full height and placing my bag on my back, starting to head off in the opposite direction of the camp as the dirt crunched loudly beneath my feet. Although I didn't get very far, maybe about five steps away before something suddenly stopped me in my tracks. I stood still there for a minute, just thinking. For some reason there was a gut feeling I had. Something was telling me to stay.

My mind started to spiral with many different thoughts, enough to give you a headache, but then that's where I stopped myself. My whole life whenever I had a gut feeling about something, I needed to trust it. My little intuition was almost never wrong. And although most I had felt like warnings about uneasy feelings, this one was different. Like a magnet was pulling me back to the group. A strong ass magnet.

I found myself plopping back down on my ass, my back up against the tree with my knees to my chest, just lost in my own thoughts, debating and arguing with myself for what felt like hours when in reality it was probably only a few minutes. But a golden flicker appearing out of the corner of my eye is what made me look back up, seeing the sun beginning to rise higher in the sky enough to kiss my cheeks. Okay...so it really had been a few hours.

But even after clear hours had passed me by, I was still left very torn on what to do with myself. My head was screaming at me to just leave and be on my own, but my heart was just calmly telling me to stay for a while and see how it works out. I hadn't had a real group at all since the outbreak first happened, but in my mind I never wished for one. I always believed it was okay to be alone, watching out for yourself rather than anyone else dragging you down. That was the logical way to survive...wasn't it?

With that I let out an annoyed groan and slowly stood back up to make my walk of shame back to the camp, deciding to give it one more day and if nothing changes, I'd leave tonight. To me even staying one more day seemed to be pushing it, but I didn't want to regret not trying and seeing how this would play out.

As I walked back into the grounds, I noticed some people were already awake in the early hours of the morning to my surprise. Carol and her daughter Sophia were sitting up on one of the logs talking quietly to each other, the woman's gaze glancing up to me as she noticed my movement. She sent me a sweet smile with a small wave, to which I nodded to her in return.

My eyes then looked away from her for a split second when I caught a brief glimpse of Rick walking away from the campsite with a certain determination in his step, and his head low. I stayed in place as I watched his figure disappear, before I found my feet slowly moving forward to follow him. I didn't know why I did, I just grew curious I guess.

When I caught up to his long strides, I found him sitting on a larger rock, seemingly talking to himself though I couldn't make out the words from where I was standing. It was all too hushed and quiet. But then my eyes panned over a bit to see a device in his hands, his mouth lowering closer as he spoke into it. Good to know he wasn't batshit crazy or anything.

After an only few seconds I turned on my heel to leave him be, though I accidentally stepped too far to the right and straight down on a branch that snapped loudly. My eyes closed the second it happened, silently cursing to myself. When he heard the noise he whipped his head around, with his hand hovering over his pistol on his hip, but his body instantly relaxed when he realized I wasn't a walking corpse.

He then recovered and flashed me a thin lipped smile, "Hey, you're up early."

I lifted my hand to check my imaginary watch, "No shit." I said, lowering it back down again at my side.

"You're not a morning person...noted." he said slowly before sighing to himself as he stared at me, "You know, I can tell you were alone for quite some time, if not the entire time. And I know you're probably scared but-"

"I'm not scared of anything." I snapped.

He looked at me surprised with raised brows, not expecting me to say anything at all. But I wasn't going to just stand there while he accused me of the things I was feeling when he didn't know anything about me at all. Everyone around here might've been scared but I sure as hell wasn't. Maybe that was another reason I didn't want to be with this group, they didn't know what the hell they were doing, too scared to have a steady head on their shoulders. I should add that to the list of reasons why I should take my happy ass out of here.

Once he recovered, he nodded in agreement to my surprise, "Okay, maybe you're not scared... but you are alone."

I didn't open my mouth to respond as my eyes narrowed at him further. Thanks captain obvious.

He continued, "Look, I know you don't trust us, but all I'm asking for is that you give us a chance. I saw the way you were looking at everyone last night, like you were ready to pounce any minute if anyone tried anything. I can tell you need us as much as we need you-"

"Okay," I interrupted with a wave of my hand, "Let me stop you right there before you break out into song and dance. I'm going to make something perfectly clear. I don't need you, or your parade of assholes back there for anything. I have always been just fine on my own, and last time I checked I didn't even ask for you to save me and bring me back here. You just did it. So don't tell me I'm scared, or I need any of you because that is far from the truth, asshole." I spoke harshly.

He stared at me for a few seconds not knowing what to say, but clapping back quicker than I expected, "Okay, fair enough. You're right I don't know you, you didn't ask me to save you, and you don't look like you need anyone. I'm just saying it's nice to have other people watching your back. I felt so alone until I found a man and his son while looking for my family, and now I can be a part of this group...and so can you. But I can understand if you want to leave. Just know that...everyone in camp likes the idea of having you around."

His response was far from what I expected, and I didn't say anything back to him right away, mostly because I couldn't find the right words. How could he be so understanding over someone he didn't even know. It honestly blew my mind a little.

When he saw I wasn't going to argue further, he turned back around to watch the sun continue to rise in front of him. And after debating in my head for a minute or two, I decided to walk over and sit next myself to him on the giant rock. He glanced at me when I sat down, probably expecting me to say some smart ass comment in return to what he stated, but I didn't. We just sat in comfortable silence until the sky was no longer orange and pink, but now turning into more of a pale blue with clouds slowly filling up the remaining space. It was somewhat nice.

I could tell he was about to move and stand up to his feet, probably to head back to camp, but I said something that stopped him.

"I never wanted to be alone." I confessed, not taking my eyes off the sky.

As soon as the words left my lips, I closed my eyes for a moment as I regretted what I said almost instantly. I didn't want to admit defeat to anyone let alone a stranger, but I figured I should in this case for him to truly understand what I was feeling.

I felt his eyes on me as he said nothing, expecting me to continue, so I did. "I was alone before the world went to shit, and I've gotten used to being by myself. I guess I've just come to realize it's exhausting looking out for other people."

He still remained silent.

"My point is I don't know if I'm staying." I said while finally turning to look at him.

He nodded, "That's okay. Just make sure to think about it before you make any rash decisions. Who knows...maybe you'll change your mind." he said almost suggestively before standing up and turning around to head back.

I turned my head and watched his frame retreat away from me for a few seconds, his words echoing in my mind, before turning all my attention back to the sky. A part of me still wanted to leave, the fear of the unknown creeping up to me, however I did tell myself that I would give it another chance. But if I couldn't find a reason to say by tonight that was that. I would leave this group behind.

~ Thanks for reading!

The darkness within:

The burning of flames.

Crows x reader, Kaz brekker x Fem!reader.

Previous. [] Next.

Plot: Everyone has voices in their heads, mostly themselves but that wasn’t the case for you. At times rage took over your body and you had no control over it. Death was always calling you, but it was never for your own.

🚨Spoilers for future parts of the stories in the warnings🚨

Warnings: Angst, killing, blood, betrayal, revenge, death, trauma, rage, spelling mistakes, a new plot for the story. Added background. Also oc!reader kinda.

The scent of cinnamon hit your nose as you sniffed around with a widening smile. The room was small but it was a safe space for you to rest, not your bedroom but a place you would meditate. There were many things you do in this room that no one could ever think of, or ever know.

Your head was a void for voices to speak, always a burden for you to bury underneath as much as you could. They were always hungry, pestered you to be set free from your skin and take the souls around you. They deserve it. Imagine their screams. Whispering voices echoed through your head until you got control. When you were young, the first time you ever looked death in the eyes, they appeared.

The flames burned bright and lit up the village from the darkness of the night, the screams of pain and terror haunted your little ears. “Mother?” You shouted and shielded your eyes from the shinning light of fire. So many houses were set ablaze, many people running through the streets and saying their prays. Calling out again you looked around for any sight of your mother, and nothing was seen.

Your bear feet ran along the paths in search for a familiar face. You wanted to cry, to just fall to your knees until you’d wake up from the nightmare you were in. What child could face this? It wasn’t until you heard a blood cut scream from a around the corner. Picking up the pace you turned the corner and looked for the woman who made the sound— only to wish you never did.

Blood coming from the corner of her mouth and a sharp dark blade impaled her stomach raising her off the ground. A figure in a dark cloak and hood held the blade, you tried to look at his face but you just saw black. “Mother!” You cried and reached your hand as if you could reached her from where you stood. Her body feel onto the ground and she used all her strength to look up to see you one last time.

The words feel from her lips, the last words and breath she ever took. You watch with teary eyes but frozen body screaming at you to move. “No.” You cried and fell to your knees, not noticing the pain it caused from the rocks underneath. The figure turned it attention to you. Raising the long handle with a curved, sharp blade at the top.

You stared at death itself, and not once did you feel scared for your life. No, you felt rage.

Blood. Blood stained your hands as you awoke from your sleep, a burnt village around you with bodies scattered all around. No trace of what had happen after your mother died, no trace as to why your hands were red. Or why the blade was now clinched in your hands.

“Kill.” A thousand whispers came rushing into your head as you walked the road alone in the woods. For the first time you were alone and nothing made sense.

“Run.” The words she had shouted, the last thing you’d ever hear her say.

You held the scented stick in your hands and brought the tip up to the flame of the candle beside you. It caught fire and the smoke started to come off, and that’s when you slowly put it up to your face and held it between your hands.

Closing your eyes and let your thoughts speak. It wasn’t a prayer, as you believe in no one to pray too. But it was a reminder of all the life’s lost that horrible day, a promise to make the loss right somehow. You whispered the names you knew.

The sounds of pain came back in your head and tortured you again, letting your guard down. The floor board cracked from the hallway and fell death to your ears. A tap of a cane along with steps echoed off the walls and floors. The man looked into the candle lit room and saw you on your knees with a scrawl on your face, and twitching body.

It sent a shove down his spine, something he hated. “Y/n.” He called out and broke you from your trance. A gasp came from your lips as you pulled back, the look of guilt flashes in your eyes.

“Get up.” Kaz demanded. You huffed out the candles on the floor. He looked around the room in silence and saw tables with wooden boards, writing on them.

“I suppose you have a job for me?” You question and stood yourself up. He turned to look at you and stayed silent, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper in his hands. A wave passed throughout your body and it made your insides twisted. Kill, we need to kill. A sigh left your lips and grabbed the envelope from your hands.

“Why can’t you do it?” The paper was already being opened.

“You have a quick way of doing it, also this isn’t my contracted.” But wasn’t it? Kaz was your employer, he took you in as a “investment”. You weren’t one of his crows, no he was just the man who gave you orders. He never questioned how the scene was always cleaned up with no trace of you. How you could kill ten targets in the span of just one hour, he just needed it done.

“I get my money from you, so therefore it is part of your contract.”

He rolled his eyes, “I don’t care as long as he’s dead, report back to the club when your done.” He turned his heels and walked out of the room. You titled your head and moved your feet after him.

“I don’t go to the crow club.”

He didn’t stop at your words or even gave you much attention. “You will this time.” He stated and opened the door out of your house and walked out without a explanation. You groan in frustration at him. Looking down you read the ink on the paper, the name now being chanted in your head.

The leather straps and clothes hit your skin, you pulled up the hood and a mask over your face. You stood on the balcony of your house, the wind blowing and the night as dark as ever. As soon as your hand reached the scythe a electricity sparked through your body. The whiteness in your eyes turned to blackness. Jumping over the railing your body was taken over, a black dark smoke moved through the air as you were no where to be seen.

Each splat of blood, the cries of pain, you felt no more full inside. It wasn’t fun to kill, but it wasn’t horrible— You just felt nothing. Like a sick way of being home and warm, just comfortable.

“Jesper,” wylan hit his boyfriends head as he chugged the big glass of alcohol in his hands. Wylan shot a glare to Nina who was doing the same, his hands then gripped both cups and pulled them out of their hands earning a protest from both of them

“No, you both have work to continue. And kaz seems extra off tonight, I don’t want to see your heads on a stick.” Wylan huffed and put the glasses on the waitress’s tray as she walked by.

“He’s like that every night.” Jesper spoke and pulled his boyfriend into his lap with a smirk. “He’s just a grumpy cat.” Wylan rolled his eyes and fixed his posture, Nina nodding along. But Nina knew he was right, something was off with him tonight.

“His heartbeats off.” The both turned their playful attention off each other and then to her.

“I can sense some anger- Or worry, I can’t tell. It’s not when he talks about pekka, but more when a plan goes wrong.” Jesper leaned forward and put his hands on the table intrigued, “Can you hear it now?” Nina gave him a face telling him his question was stupid.

A figure emerged from the shadows and over to the group, “Hear what?” They turn around but Nina was the only one not startled, but the two boys were.

Inej sat down with them, “What did I miss?” She asked her friends. The bar was full and all of them had taken a break so it must be worth it.

“Kaz’s is acting weird.” Oh, she already knew that. Just a few hours ago he was annoyed and yelling at her to do a job for him, he was not in the mood. “I know.” She sighed. The groups broke out into their own questions and answers as to what was wrong with him.

The doors to the bar pushed open and a cloaked woman walked through. A breeze went through the area as she entered, and a chill vibrated down the spines of who looked at her. The crows turned their attention at the girl making her way through the place, she seemed to have a mission and didn’t stop for anything.

Jesper looked at his friends, “You think it’s her?”

Nina nodded and kepts her gaze on the girl who walked up the stairs. “She never comes here, you now how she hates bars. Kaz probably gave her a job, maybe that’s his problem.” Nina mumbled her thoughts.

Inej played with her knife, “You know how those two are.” At her words Jesper held wylans waist and pulled him closer.

“She scares me, I mean she’s a very good assassin.” Jesper shivered.

The door to the office swung open, you stepped through with a stomp in your step. “You sent me to kill a child.” Kaz heard the rasp in your voice behind him. His eyes kept themselves on the words below him and matched the papers on his desk.

“It was a test.” You let out of chuckle and gripped the handle of your weapon.

“A child is not a plaything to tangle on a string, kaz. It was a life- A child’s life.” You foamed at the mouth. Kaz set down the papers in his hands and let his shoulder fall.

“And is the child dead?”

Turning around with a raised brow he stared at you. You had to control yourself from killing him right where he stood, this was pissing you off. “I never will kill a child.”

“Good, because I didn’t want you to.” He studied you, he saw the glare you gave him and the shake in your body full of rage.

You crept closer and he stood up straight to await what you would do, and to stand his ground. It would only take a few seconds to slice through him, and at this moment it was starting to sound like a good idea. Kaz has been a decent boss, someone to pay you what you’re owed and keep you from harm if needed— not that you ever did. And you knew the things he would do. But this was was messing with you, to try and bring you down.

He was another voice.

You stare into his eyes only a step away from him, his eyes matching yours with no sense of fear. Yesterday you would have felt fluster to be this close and have him staring at you, but that feeling was gone. “We’re through.” You snapped at him. His leather hand caught you as you turned away and stopped you from moving anymore.

“You’re still under my contract.” The next thing you did was out of your control.

A bone crushing sound filled your ears as your fist swung backwards to his face, breaking his nose. Very good, the voices complemented you and that’s what pulled you out of the state. “Oh shit.” You panicked at what you had done.

“I didn’t mean to.” Your went to help him but he stepped back and held his nose and blood trailed down. The stare you expected from him was shown on his face.

“Leave, now.”

You wanted to defend yourself and apologize. But how could you explain that the situation to him without scaring or telling him the truth? So you did as he said, you left the club and back home.

As soon as you step throughout the door of your home a sob left your lips, the crashing pain in your chest pulling at your heart. Body going numb made your legs give out and you fall to your knees. The image of your mother dying, the figure standing above her— Just like that day you’re on your knees, weak and alone, and only yourself to blame.

“I’m sorry.” You begged but no one could hear. No one cared.

But are you?

You enjoy hurting people just like us. You crave blood, have a lust for it.

Shacking your head you cover your ears and let the tears roll. “I’ll never be like you.”

You already are.

The crows gather in kaz’s office as Nina helps his broken nose and awaited his orders. The tension was still in the air of what had happened, to what he was thinking. Kaz sat silent and stared at the floor with a glare. His mind flooded with the test he had set for you, how he wished it wasn’t true.

But he saw it with his own eyes, the clouded darkness taken over you and it made sense. How you could kill without a trace. How you could kill so many people like it was nothing and never come back with a scratch. It was all true.

Siting himself up and Nina threw her hands up, never getting to finish. “We have a new job.” The group looked at each other and then back to their boss. Slight fear built up within their stomachs.

“And what’s that?” Jesper asked and played with the guns on his side. They all watched kaz grab a paper from his desk and hold it up, a signed signature at the bottom. His expression darkened and twisted into a smirk.

“To kill, Y/n L/n.”

Thank you @spacecampauthor for this commission.

Commission description: a simple fluffy fix with Yves and reader having a spa night and watching the IT horror films. I just want them to have a nice night.

654 words

You lay your head on his lap, allowing yourself to relax in his presence. He had set the mood of your shared bedroom with him perfectly, the lights were dimmed and warm, and soothing music was playing in the background from his specially curated playlist. You didn't stop to wonder where the music was coming from, as there wasn't a speaker in sight. The air smelled of your favourite fragrant essential oils, yet there was no diffuser in sight.

You and him had just gotten out of the shower, clothed in fluffy bathrobes that shields you from the cold.

He starts off the session by lowering a warm, moist towel on your face. Letting the heat open your pores and calm your nerves further. Only after a few minutes of serenity, he gently lifts the towel up and set it aside. You heard him snapping a bottle open, you craned your head to see that he's applying toner onto a soft cotton pad. To which, he will then use to further cleanse your face in feathery swipes.

Yves whispered about how he finds you beautiful, revering you as he went on to apply an expensive moisturizer on his fingertips. After that, began massaging your cheeks. His smooth fingers skillfully glide through your skin sent tingles down your spine. Yves continued sensually caressing you from forehead to your neck.

Yves understood that you may personally find the IT horror films enjoyable, but from what he observed before, they tend to elevate your blood pressure and heart rate. It almost seems inappropriate given the context of a relaxing spa day, but he knows you like your adrenaline rush after.

So he switches his wide, flat screen television on. Waking you up with a sweet kiss on the forehead when he noticed that you were about to drift to sleep. You opened your eyes to see Yves, bare faced and smiling, he is still as stunning as ever. Even without his usual light makeup. While the movies are starting off, Yves picked up the bowl of homemade potato chips from the table. You kept your rested eyes glued onto the screen while Yves hand fed you crispy carb disks.

The choice in snacks is deliberate too, as there will be gore in the movies, Yves had to prepare that doesn't resemble anything disgusting you saw. As it may ruin your appetite and create a negative association to that one food. It would simply give Yves a headache when trying to reverse that memory.

He avoids feeding you a few minutes before any jump scares, as he fears you might choke. But he loves how you would snuggle close to him whenever you felt uneasy due to the film. A shame that you were to engrossed with the screen to notice Yves doesn't even flinch throughout the entire run time. He knows what's coming and when, because he had watched it numerous times prior to today. He has to, as he doesn't like uncertainty. And he only wants to make this night nothing short of lovely for you.

The night went on with you jumping at every scare while Yves sits unmoving with a disciplined posture. Establishing himself as a safe haven to retreat to whenever it becomes too much for you, allowing you to bury your head in his sides. But you didn't have to do much of that, as the gentle, loving strokes he would do on your hair would bring you back to Earth. You knew that you're safe and sound with him, nothing can ever harm you as long as you're with Yves.

He smiles. Because he gets to hold you, take up your time and mind. He loves you oh so dearly.

In the end, Yves rests his head on your shoulder too, closing his eyes in bliss as the characters in the film scream in terror while being mutilated by that clown.

Despite the loud agonizing scream and people scrambling to the exit for their life in the other side of the gym, the two hunks still continued their self-exploration of their physique. They are completely unphased of it and keep on taking selfie while caressing their ridged abs and juicy pectoral muscle. After all, they're one of the first few that fell victim to the alien invaders that crawled out from the shower and the drain, the noise of terror in the background sounded like pure euphoria for them because it indicates that more of their brethren managed to access their human vessels. They are drawn in self-admiration because for starter, they heard about how the humans they slithered into are what considered as human in their peak physical conditions. Tapping into the mind of their vessel, the confidence that borderline with arrogance comes naturally and it led to some exciting discovery about human senses and psyche. They are slightly weirded out with the smell coming off from several section of their body and how different the two of them smelled like despite both of them are human, but the whole thing is still quite an experience anyway because this will be a good step in case the aliens want to explore controlling bigger and more complex being. In the meantime, they heard some low chatter getting closer from the outside of the locker room and no more screaming, is that going to be their brethren coming to check on them?

Hey guys, sorry for the inactivity. Just feeling stuck with "Annual Leave 2" to be honest so I held myself back to not write more stories until I finished it, but pfft....guess I just need to write what I have in mind as quick as possible rather than delaying it for the sake of finishing a gargantuan story. Anyway, thanks for 1000 followers!

Someday I'll Write It:

Lady Vader Part VII

In the quiet vacuum of space, Chandrila explodes and the galaxy screams.

Over the roaring in her ears, Padmé can’t make out the words, gasps, and cries of the pandemonium all around her. Holding herself together, she cradles her middle, unable to tear her eyes away from the unimaginable newsfeed she can’t bear to watch continuously crawl across the screen. She can’t breathe.  Can’t think.

All she knows is Mon Mothma hadn’t been the only one shouting at the top of her lungs.

Eventually, she loses track of how long she’s stood in horrified silence, and somehow manages to find her way home.

*****

When she arrives, Anakin greets her with terror in his eyes and a tone she’s never heard flavor his voice before.

At least, not ever with her.

“From now on, you need to keep your mouth shut.”

“Anakin,” she whispers, recoiling from the stranger standing where her husband should be.  Confusion and pain bleed across the carpet between them, but he turns away from her, ignoring her heart still begging for his comforting embrace.

Then she sees it. 

The cold sheen of remorse on his unusually pale skin.  The halting way his shoulders rise and fall. His lungs a grief-stricken bellows choking him with his own guilt.  He’s attempting to disappear in plain sight, and the last time he tried to hide his demons from her, she asked…

“What’s wrong, Ani?”

Their apartment recedes into the background, and she swears she can feel the blistering heat of that damned Tatooinian garage again.

“I had to.”

He doesn’t turn around to answer her, though her mind all too easily supplies the way rivulets of tears cascade down his chiseled cheeks.  She wills her feet to move toward him, yearns to hold him together as he’s falling apart, but her limbs refuse, leaden and sinking in unseen quicksand.  History is repeating itself though her wildly jumping nerves warn of a far greater threat this time.

Just as suddenly as he had then, Anakin spins back to her, dismay and defeat and defiance written all over his handsome face.  There’s a dangerous set to his chin and an unnerving quality to his unblinking watery gaze.  Vexation looks dashing on him but not when it looks like this.

“I had to pick. He didn’t give me a choice.” 

He’s haunted, seeing ghosts, the words gushing out of him faster and faster until he’s the one now hemorrhaging all over the floor. 

“It was a test.  He’s getting closer.  He made me pick.  Said it was my choice who to make an example of.”

She wants to say something to soothe the fragmented soul in front of her, but she is paralyzed by the unease spreading along her skin.  Her stunned silence destroys him.

“I had to, Padmé.  I had to.  I’m so sorry, but it was Chandrila because I couldn’t… Oh gods, he knew I wouldn’t…”

Collapsing at her feet, he buries his face into her belly, strangling on the other impossible choice of planet he can’t bring himself to name.  He doesn’t need to.  Her bones turn to ice, and she clings to him as fiercely as he does to her.  The world spins out from under their feet as a devastating realization creeps its way down her spine.

The Skywalkers are no longer untouchable.

Image Credit: Eli Hyder

the party walkers

self insert .✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* school bus graveyard

words: 2.21k

next part: a rescue mission

note: hot minute, hey guys, this is my first time writing for school bus graveyard! currently, it's probably my favorite webtoon (that being said, all my other favorites are on hiatus, so, yk. that's that.) if you followed me for genshin one shots, I just wanna let you know I'm NOT gonna stop writing them, permanently at least. I haven't been able to fixate on genshin for a bit because the app is too big for my phone and trying to play on my computer kills me inside. hope you enjoy, also things prooobably aren't gonna be perfect, lol, I'm going off memory of the first chapter/s

content: self insert for sbc, uh, go read that first, I don't think I'll end up including anything (at least, not here) that needs extra trigger warnings. long term, it's a tyler x reader, maybe, idk, but regardless I don't plan on starting that for a bit.

i. a demon inside of my skin

you hadn't been in "the room where it happened", so to speak. actually, you didn't know what everyone else was dealing with for about a week after savannah, because you thought you were having batshit crazy nightmares! your hotel room was a good bit further away from everyone else's that first night, and after making a run for it into a room and barricading yourself in, you thought that would be the end of it. everyone did, didn't they?

and then, you went home. warm bed, soft blanket, box fan running in the background while you scrolled through various social media apps. it was nearing midnight, but that wasn't new for you. the early morning hours were your friend, the moon a sibling by your teenage years. not unique, sure, but that was the reality of that situation. a small shiver tickles your spine as you remember the night mare last night brought you, your fingertips ghosting the spot on your knuckle where you had banged it and broken your finger in that dream. it was even sore when you woke up. sometimes, nightmares were like that though. sometimes people woke up gasping for air after drowning in their sleep, or craving cigars after being a smoker in their dreams. sore knuckles weren't that far off.

it was like a flash; one moment, you were watching a college aged blonde talk about the type of oils she used for her long, silky, soft hair, and the next, the sky from out your window was a bleeding carmine. there was a loud silence, no wind, no rain, no box fan or phone.

then, again, you heard it. click, click, click. chatter, chatter, chatter. okay. cool. another nightmare. fun and fantastic.

shooting out of your sheets, your index finger throbbed, sparing a second and glancing at it revealed purple spots upon green bruises splotched along your hand. curling your finger inward hurt, but was possible. making a fist around your blanket, you threw it as hard as possible off of you, hoping to distract whatever was making the noise. it did not have the desired affect, and flew a couple feet before expanding and landing softly on the floor. that didn't matter, you were already on your feet and they were thudding to your door before you were aware of what was going on, scrambling on the carpet of your bedroom as you heard skitter like movements from where your eyes couldn't catch the gray, uncanny human-like figure making its way toward you on all fours. it was fast. way, way too fast. the undignified squeal you released as you yanked open your door turned into a gravelly scream of both terror and agony when you slid through, slamming the door shut before you, a blackened finger along with it. it didn't fall to the floor, but instead was hanging painfully out of your back, right under your shoulder blade. like a when a plank of wood splinters, but has enough fibers to hang off and out of the main piece and bobs back and forth. except you're not a piece of wood, and you have to not scream right now.

you feel nausea drinking its way into your chest, but adrenaline pushes it to a back burner as a need to survive pulses in your brain. grabbing a random shoe, a picture frame from off the wall, and a small ball which were left on the floor earlier, you throw them in another direction and hope it sounds enough like footsteps that when you get into the bathroom, whatever that thing is doesn't try to follow you in there.

the balls of your feet aren't much quieter than your whole foot, but they'll have to do as you nearly slam the bathroom door, stop yourself in the knick of time to edge it closed instead, and lock it. for the first time in your entire life, you internally thank your parents that you didn't get that house with the skylight in the bathroom.

now, you hold your breath. the creaking of the floors beneath your cheap carpet tells you that that thing, that monster, that whatever-it-is, is passing by. your fingers shake as you cover your mouth with one hand, the other cupping your nose as you try desperately to slow and quiet your breathing. unfortunately, the racing of your heart isn't helping, and neither is the recognition of that wound that craved up your back so nicely. again, your stomach turns. you don't have time to deal with that right now, even if you can feel blood dripping down your back and throbbing which matches your heartbeat.

click, click, thump, thump. the shadow from the light outside darkens, two fuzzy shadows before the door. silence. praying.

click, click. click. it slowly, slowly, drags its hideous feet away from the door.

you can't breathe for another minute, and the instant you do, it comes out as a heave. your eyes go wide as you scramble toward the bathtub, making it just in time to spill your guts. after emptying your stomach, you pull away with watery eyes and a raw throat, coughing a couple times. you feel a little bit better, as you usually do after throwing up, but that won't last. also, you need water, and that means looking in the mirror if you don't wanna be loud. but for right now, you just need to lay down for a moment. just breathe. you're so, so light headed. you had only just woken up, and this all felt so real. the pain in your hand and in your back. the scratchy stinging you feel up your esophagus. the exhaustion pawing under your eyes as you start to lean backward;

except, you can't, and when you try that, you only shoot straight up and nearly puke all over again. thankfully, this time, the finger actually falls out of your back.

"𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯."

you can reach the majority of the wound if you really reach. it won't be perfect, but you should be able to get it properly clean and bandaged with the first aid kit your family keeps in the bathroom. you don't really know how to clean a wound this big, though. will you need stitches? the only real way to know is to look at it, even if you aren't really ready to do so.

"𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘪𝘧 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭."

the thought came to you before you even moved from your spot on the floor. oh, yeah. that's right. you're asleep.

...

huh. most dreams feel a little more, don't know. dreamy?? if this is a dream, candy is going to start raining from the sky right now.

right now. here.

𝘯𝘰𝘸, you think, looking up at the ceiling half heartedly. alright, if this was a nightmare, it was a really weird horrible one. and also, you'd rather not push your luck at this point. so, mirror it is. ignoring the pit of panic welling in your chest, you push yourself to your feet, and tip toe to the kitchen sink. you stare at the faucet, and then force your eyes upward. your hair is frazzled, and there are white specks along the corners of your mouth. and then, you turn around. your jaw tightens when you see the open wound, your nightshirt torn open and revealing tattered, aggressive flesh beneath it. that thing probably cut you to the bone. hopefully, because there is in fact a bone there, it didn't hit any organs. you can breathe fine, so your lung didn't seem all too punctured. it's just ugly. ugly and painful.

cleaning it is the first step, and you're just thankful that despite the fact that you stupidly, stupidly, stupidly dumped isopropyl alcohol onto it in hopes of doing so (for a second, before the burning, you felt a little uncomfortable. and then it hit, you nearly cracked your tooth from biting down so hard), it's over with.

a week later, you find yourself in class, rubbing sleepiness from your eyes. so, long story short, that wasn't a dream, and something is horribly wrong. you waking up to a long scab running down your shoulder blade told you that much. and things were about to get a lot worse. in the real world, that is.

"sir, please. they do literally nothing. they just sit there all spaced out, rubbing their eyes. it's like they aren't even trying for this project!" brandy, your classmate begs in a hushed tone. as annoying as the brunette could be at times, she wasn't wrong. a pang in your chest as you think of possibly making it so that the other members of your group protect fail because you are too tired to do your part. god, sorry brenda, you're too busy trying to huddle up in a bathroom all night and take care of a wound that isn't healing for some reason, all while praying that the thing that chased you in there and will probably kill you, doesn't murder you. but she's still not wrong. and it isn't like she knows that, because you have something seriously wrong with you. it's not her fault, and she shouldn't have to pay for you being crazy.

"mr. thomas," you quietly call, rubbing your elbow uncomfortably as you stare at the floor. you can see brandy pause from the corner of your eye, and you think there's even a sorry expression on her face. even if she was annoying, she clearly hadn't thought you heard that. and she had a right to be upset.

"I would like to change groups, if, um, possible."

there's a pause, and from your peripheral view, you can see your teacher and classmate motioning at each other, her probably trying to convince him to let you do so. a small thump, and then a sigh. "alright. I'm going to put you with ashlyn's group. "

as a redhead from across the room pops up and looks around, mr. thomas looks through a few pieces of paper, crossing something off with his pen. he didn't say it out loud, and frankly, he didn't have to. that was the group in the class that was also failing, so, you being in it wouldn't have much of an impact anyway. at least you wouldn't sink the whole ship all by yourself. was it smart, as a teacher? no. he probably should have put you with a tutor or something. looking up at mr. thomas as you nod and collect your things from your desk reveals an, in fact, apologetic eyed brandy. she mouths a "thank you", and you nod in return. you would drag your chair to their little group later, first, you should go introduce yourself, and hope they don't kick you out.

the bright blonde of the group catches you with his eyes before anyone else. you can hear him say something, and the rest of them stop talking and turn to look at you as you awkwardly walk over. their eyes are so piercing, it's making you uncomfortable.

"can we help you?" a brunette asks, tilting her head up to look at you. her tone carries no malice, just curiosity. makes you feel a little bit better.

"I'm so sorry to ask this, if you guys don't want me in your project I'll go ask if I can be alone or join another group or something, it's not a big deal. I'm having issues with my part of the project, and it's affecting everyone else's work in my group. so they were wondering if I could join in with you guys."

they all share a really weird look with each other, like they're talking telepathically or something. a tense moment passes, and two members speak up at the same time.

"yeah sure lol."

"fuck no."

"tyler! be nice! besides, we probably need someone who actually knows what's going on in this class!"

"didn't she just say she was having issues with her work? it's not like she's going to add much."

"to be fair, I don't think any of us are doing all too great on the work anyway."

you feel the need to clarify, mainly to get this over with. "I'm not really having trouble with the work. I'm just not doing it. I'm having sleeping issues, again, not a big deal if you don't want me to join."

they all stop, and look at you again. the redheaded one narrows her eyes, letting the braid she was messing with fall to her lap. her and the boy next to the brunette girl who asked you a question - actually, now that you're up close and looking at him, that looks like one of the boys on the baseball team. didn't she call him tyler? like tyler hernandez? huh. you didn't even realize you guys shared this class.

"what kind of nightmares have you been having?" the blonde asks, looking at who you're starting to assume is ashlyn. they have a staring contest of sorts while you start to answer. "oh, just weird ones. like, ones with monsters... and stuff..."

you didn't say anything about nightmares.

he looks at you again, a cat like grin on his face. "I think you should sit down. "

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

next part: a rescue mission

Hello! If you are taking requests at this time, would you be able to do a scenario? It would be Macaque, Nezha, and MK (separate) x Reader (gender neutral).

The prompt: reader is normally very confident and fearless, with a cute and soft demeanor that's hard to hate. Then one night, they have a bad nightmare that wakes the boy(s) up, the reader is literally shaking and crying from the dream. When they can calm the reader down a bit and ask if they're ok, they just say that it was a dream about an old memory and refuse to say anything else.

LOVER'S NIGHT TERROR

Macaque

You both sleep seperatly. It was more confortable for him and you never bothered about it. That night he would change that arragement, when you startled him.

He rushed in your room at the moment he heard your screams, and found you sitting at the edge of the bed sweating. You always had an stoic and fearless look on your face... It was the first time he saw you like ... This.

You're fine, it's nothing- You asurred! Covering yourself with the blankets, you told Macaque to leave. It was embarrising to have him looking at you like this! But... That charming jerk not only didn't left; he sat close to you!

You felt his body laying next to you, trying to talk about what happened. If you don't want to talk about it, it's ok. But he would tell you little stories about his life: bad moments, good moments... Which you are included. You dift into a calm sothing sleep, and he stay by your side caressing gently your cheek.

Nezha

When he heard a scream, he awoke already sumnonding his spear and the pink fire wheels already on his feet. His eyes dashed into all directions, searching for any enemy or intruder... But then he saw you: with a terrefied expression he had never saw on your face. Ever.

He came to you, apologising... But you needed a moment, and walked out of the room. You walked fast, trying to calm your stupid beating heart and trying to get thoses images of your brain. The fresh air and the moonlight made you realice that you were in the garden...

Nezha found you there. You felt a wave of embarrasment coming through your head and couldn't face him; not with your angsty expression and your cheek wet by the tears that you shed in your horrible sleep. But he gently grabbed your arm, and that stopped you from keep walking.

Only him... Yes, you felt that this god that you deeply loved... He would be the only one who you could be a little more open. Both of you had difficult backgrounds that could be define as "difficult to handle". The two of you had a lot to tell... And that's what you did together. You wouldn't know how much it means to Nezha that you trust him enough to show him a side of you that you conceal; nor even the sweet gentle look he had while he watched you while you were sleeping, one he convinved you to go back to bed.

MK

Your mumbleling became shrieks and yelling at the night terror was getting worse. MK woke up with the thought that you were being attacked right next to him, didn't took the staff out of his ear yet because he saw that it was just the two of you in his room. He placed his hand on your arm and shoulder, calling your name with a worried tone; he panicked that you weren't waking up... and that you were crying!

As you were rising from a seas that swalow you deep, you sat up with a shaking breathing and the feeling of suffocation. Those images were still on your open eyes. The scents. The sounds echoing your hears... Until you heard MK's voice; his worried voice break you out of that trance. He was next to you, one hand still on your shoulder as the other reached at your face... Wait, you were CRYING?! Damm it!

You ran out of the room. Feeling angry, anxious, embarresed... Why did MK had to see you like THIS?! Like a coward baby. You end up downstairs at Pigsy's Noodle Shop, you sat at a couch that the gang place in a corner to watch the tv for next friday's movie marathoon. Resting your back againts the pillows, you whiped your eyes trying to erase the traces that your tears made. You heard foots steps coming down from the stairs, it was clearly MK.

He just peeked from the wall corner at you for a moment. You kept your hand on your face to avoid his gaze. Then, you saw a dim light coming from the kitchen. Then, bubbling sounds appears, along with choppings and cabinets door opening and closing. And the scent of... Oh, Chicken Lo Mein. Your sunshine came to you with two small bowls with your favorite dish, waiting for an invitation to sit next to you. You smiled at him and scoop on one side. No need necesary. If you didn't wanted to talk, he won't insist; but when you ever feel bad, he would always be at your side. Pigsy entered at the Noodle shop first thing in the morning, finding both of you fall asleep on the couch.

Moran answers the phone

Kidnapper: we have your leader

Moran: you have Louis?

Kidnapper: yeah.

*In the background, screams of terror can be heard*

Moran: good luck with him.