Andy Biersack / Black fanfic, occasional gif maker. Don't take requests & won't co-author. Don't have a Masterlist. Have archives instead: CLICK HERE to go to my profile page on wattpad.
The Black Veil Brides Fanfiction website has stopped allowing me to log in at all. Thusly, I am unable to continue posting there. So if you’d like to read my stuff and continue getting updates on unfinished stories, there is (currently) only one place to do it:
https://www.wattpad.com/user/SmuttyPariah
Wattpad is available online in a browser window as well as its own app.
As a reminder I am no longer posting on tumblr either as I stopped getting any positive feedback and my posts no longer show up in searches. ( @staff )
My posts no longer show up in tag searches, and thus I have no way to attract new readers. I haven’t had a writing post of mine ‘liked’ in 81 days. During that time I have updated all of my current stories, but gotten no positive feedback. I started out on tumblr, so this is a tough decision. But now posting here is just hurting me. I’m not 100% sure yet, but I know posting here is like staying with an abusive partner.
If you still wish to read my writing, you have two other options:
1) Wattpad
https://www.wattpad.com/user/SmuttyPariah
2) The Black Veil Brides Fanfiction website (for as long as that website continues to limp along)
Remake Game of Thrones Season 8 with competent writers.
A petition that is unlikely to succeed, but that I think is important in terms of sending a message to those writing for future series- the final season is not the time to get incredibly sloppy and what works well in one medium may not translate well to another.
Everything changed after that night, and in more ways than one. (Y/N) no longer ran from me when I went walking through the eastern fields- quite the opposite! Each time we chanced to meet, I got, at the least, a smile and a greeting, which I returned with great enthusiasm. How lovely she was when she wasn’t shrieking at me! Soon I found myself, once again, making extra trips to the area in the hope of seeing her more often.
After some weeks, it became not infrequent that we would sit in the grass, just a few paces apart, and have entire conversations! At first it was a bit overwhelming to be speaking with another person after so many years of solitude. But, in the course of time, I grew more comfortable around (Y/N), and she seemed to feel likewise. I had always enjoyed telling stories, making people laugh, and talking about myself in general, so I enjoyed talking to (Y/N) about anything and everything. Eventually it came to be that we would often converse into the wee hours of the morning.
She was quite interested in hearing about the life of an aristocrat. Though the parties and government functions I had attended had seemed to me, for the most part, dreadfully boring, (Y/N) was positively enraptured by my stories of them. I was intrigued to find that she was just as interested in learning about aristocratic culture and the inner workings of the House of Lords as she was in hearing about the fine clothes and other luxuries that came with a noble birth. I was even able to dissuade her of her false impressions regarding the circumstances of my death and reveal to her the truth of the matter! It was quite satisfying to find her ultimately quite sympathetic to my misfortune.
Just as we shared tales of our lives long past, so we talked about how we had spent our deaths. She was keen to hear about the changes I had been able to observe in the world of man. Unlike (Y/N), I’d been killed in a populated area that had maintained foot traffic through the years. My range was out in the open and had daily visitors to observe. She marveled at my descriptions of automobiles, electricity, and contemporary fashion. It was readily apparent that she doubted my veracity on occasion, but enjoyed listening nonetheless. I did not mind too greatly- it was a delight to have such a spellbound audience. Her scandalized look when I described the skimpiness of modern women’s clothing was precious! Indeed, doubtless I’d feel just as shocked (though in a pleasant way…) if I hadn’t been exposed to such radical changes happening gradually over time.
Another subject we talked on at great length was haunting. Since her death, (Y/N) had never had any people about her, so she had never had any cause to develop her otherworldly skills. After hearing me talk of how I bedeviled the tourists that came to the castle, she grew envious of my abilities. Thusly I began to tutor her and found her to be an apt pupil. Though she had been dead a fair stretch less than I, she still proved to have quite a bit of talent; I swelled with pride in her swift progress.
But though I enjoyed telling (Y/N) stories and teaching her tricks, I was captivated when she spoke on her own life and her afterlife. I hadn’t been a great listener in life, but I found myself interjecting less than I had back then. I suspect this could be attributed to finding (Y/N) more engaging than most anyone else I had ever talked to.
I’d never known much about the different duties of each type of servant in a household as large as I had maintained. Wanting to spend more of my time at leisure, I had delegated others to manage the domestics. Now I regretted having viewed such information as extraneous, for I presently needed to be taught by (Y/N) as though I were a child. Without such lessons, I’d not have understood the setting for the narrative of her life.
She taught me that the staff within a home was far more regimented than I had thought. Given that she had only ever worked for merchants, it made me wonder how much more complex my own home must have been! For example, scullery maids, such as (Y/N) had been, assisted kitchen maids, who in turn reported to the cook. Each of these menials was further graded within their rank.
As a scullery maid, (Y/N) had been the lowest ranking among the female servants. She corrected my erroneous assumption that a scullion and a scullery maid were the same thing- scullions were men and far less common in our day. Before she had gone to serve the Hemleys, (Y/N) had hoped, one day, to reach the rank of kitchen maid. That such had been her highest aspiration for her station in life was humbling.
She expounded further on the role of a scullery maid, and it turned out to be even more wretched than I had imagined. My primary impression was that her work never seemed to be done. For example, she hadn’t even been allowed to eat at the communal servant’s dining hall, despite having to lay the table there, clear it afterwards, and then clean the dishes. Instead, she had been required to eat in the kitchen itself, along with the most junior of the kitchen maids, so as to keep an eye on the food that was still cooking.
It had been her primary duty to keep the kitchen, pantries, scullery, and kitchen passages orderly and spotless: cleaning and scouring the floor, tables, stoves, sinks, pots, kitchen utensils, and dishes (though apparently not all the dishes- china, crystal, silver, and the like were off limits), as well as clearing away meat and vegetable garbage. She’d also assisted with the more odious aspects of food preparation: cleaning vegetables, plucking fowl, and scaling fish. In addition, she had also been tasked with providing hot water whenever it was needed for seemingly anything related to the kitchen or household. Moreover, she’d had to light the kitchen fires in the earliest hours of the morning, before the cook came, for early morning tea. Most foul of her duties had been the emptying and cleaning of her fellow female servants’ chamber pots. Occasionally, she’d also been required to fit in extra tasks- from pumping water to aiding with the laundry during busy times or when staff was low. Just hearing about it all was exhausting in and of itself!
The list of indignities seemingly went on and on. For example, never once had she had a bedroom to herself! She’d had to rise before dawn each day, every day. Rarely was it that she had been given time off, but generally only a half day, if anything at all, every few weeks. The only free time that she’d had during each day had been in the late evenings- after 9pm but before her required bedtime. Though she’d only rarely had any more than those few minutes a day to herself, it sounded as though all her ‘leisure time’ in the Hemley house had been taken up by Francis and his fleshly demands. Bastard.
Indeed, with a life so grim, I marveled that all scullery maids did not go mad. Perhaps that was why (Y/N) was so peculiar? Her stories were so horrid, in fact, that at first I thought she was exaggerating so as to garner my sympathy. But it soon became clear that she was speaking the truth; her accounts were far too complex and consistent to be fabricated. And, once I thought on it, I found that her assertions fit perfectly with the little I’d previously bothered to learn about the lives of servants.
The Gorgon’s Daughter #33- a Smutty Andy Biersack story
(To catch up on previous chapters, please see the links in my blog bio.)
As our heroes traveled onward, they often found themselves on terrain alternating between craggy landscapes and gently rolling flatlands. But as winter started to sink its teeth into the land around them, the grasslands, forests, and tundra began to change quickly. Soon, most of the green to be seen was in the needles of the occasional fir and pine trees growing lower down the mountains than the rest of their kin. The snow became ever-present, at times forcing them to risk using established roads and trails. Fortune favored them, for they met with no other travelers.
Whenever our group of adventurers journeyed too high in altitude the pervasive cold, sharp winds, and thin air repelled them. They learned that the appearance of stunted evergreen forests, or ‘krummholz,’ meant they should amend their route to one of lower elevation. Though a higher path would have theoretically made the journey faster, they were simply underequipped to journey too high into the Alps proper, despite Andy’s many trips during which he purchased supplies. Indeed, a mountainous trek would have taken them too far from the inhabited outposts with which they had need of trade. However, even following the careful, circuitous route they were forced to take, they still found the cold inescapable. None of them could ever remember having seen (or even imagined) so much snow.
In addition to tougher terrain, food quickly grew scarcer to forage as well as to hunt. Though none of the three were true nomads, they used the experience gained from the past several months to carry on, albeit at a slower pace. Unsure when or if their travels would become less trying, the three travelers relied on grim determination to carry them forward. Each of them faced different frustrations and challenges.
Andy grew profoundly irritated with the ever-changing tongues and dialects in the towns and military strongholds he visited to barter. Occasionally it led to potentially dangerous situations through language-related blunders he barely understood, but he was able to wriggle free of almost all with a combination of charisma, luck, and cunning. The remainder were dealt with reluctantly by (Y/N).
Of the three, Andy had led the most sheltered life before their journey, and he grew to feel as though he was losing control of the situation. What use was knowing which direction to go on the map in his mind when he did not know the accompanying climate and could not predict the many obstacles that would oppose them? Additionally, though their store of gold was not, in truth, much depleted, it became a source of anxiety for him. Fearful of a robbery from which he could not escape, he began leaving the majority of their monies with (Y/N) whenever he went into civilization to make purchases.
As the cold weather further intensified, he longed to bring his companions to an inn, if only for one night of warmth and recovery from the elements. But he know a fox, however pleasant, would be hard to explain, and a gorgon outright impossible. And so, each time he left a village, market, or fort, his heart was heavy, and he felt as though, somehow, he had failed his friends.
For her part, (Y/N) grew frustrated with the seemingly ever-changing flora and fauna, forcing her to rely heavily on her snakes for aid. And yet, though the cold bothered (Y/N) the least of the three, it made her snakes sluggish and reluctant to provide any guidance. It was only with the greatest efforts at foraging that she was able to keep the group adequately fed for such arduous work, even with Damica and Andy hunting often and the rations purchased at every opportunity.
(Y/N) also grew wary of her feelings for Andy. Over the many months, her initial fascination with him had changed into feelings of unfathomable warmth and depth. It was as though she wished to be closer to him than any friend could be. Well, she was no fool- she suspected she was falling in love, which she found to be unacceptable.
(Y/N) had read about matters of the heart, and she was fearful that her emotions might betray her at any moment. What if her eyes began to glitter and gave her away? What if she began acting so strangely she hindered their journey?
She couldn’t help but notice that Andy’s eyes gave off no light in darkness, and that he acted quite sensibly most of the time. Not to mention his rejection of her the morning after Poseidon had beset them. Thus, it was surely the case that he saw her as no more than a close companion. That thought pained her more than she thought possible, and thus she buried it quickly whenever it rose to her consciousness.
Indeed, she worked constantly to distract herself with other matters and wall off all thoughts of a romantic nature. How pointless they were! She was a centuries-old monster while Andy was a young and kind human. Still, not fully trusting her self-control, she checked her reflection carefully whenever the rare opportunity presented itself.
For her part, Damica was growing afraid, though not of the increasing hardship. With the change in weather her bones ached fiercely, exacerbating old injuries and the newer pains of old age. She worried if, perhaps soon, she would be unable to help her friends. Perhaps even worse was the possibility that, when the time came, they would be unwilling to leave her behind. She refused to be coddled like a pup- she would carry her own weight and more! Stubbornly, she refused to let show any sign of weakness. Unbeknownst to her, her muzzle was now peppered with gray, and both (Y/N) and Andy were both concerned for their bosom companion.
They were too far from home to turn back with nothing to show for it. And yet, they both wondered if Damica would be able to finish the voyage to Mount Olympus, much less the return journey. They agreed with one another, however, that they would never abandon her. And thus the future weighed on them all.
Perhaps the greatest source of true contention became (Y/N)’s guilt. She grew to feel personally responsible for every hardship and challenge they faced. If not for her desire to annul the curse Athena had laid upon her, she questioned, would Andy and Damica not be happy in their respective homes at that very moment? It became often that (Y/N) would apologize to Damica or Andy for the suffering she felt she was responsible for. Damica was successfully able to ignore her, for the most part. However Andy and (Y/N) would occasionally get into heated arguments. In the end, though, they always made peace.
But still, even facing such adversity, their travels were not truly unhappy. At night, when they gathered around their campfires or huddled in abandoned buildings, temporary shelters, or caves, they shared many stories and told many jokes.
Andy spoke of human lives- both his and what he had seen and learned in the villages along their travels. Both (Y/N) and Damica were fascinated by his descriptions of human social behavior. While (Y/N) was saddened to hear firsthand about the short lives of humans, it made no difference to Damica. She knew that both (Y/N) and Andy would outlive her, which didn’t bother her in the least. Just how much longer each would continue past her own passing seemed of paltry importance.
(Y/N) told her friends about her mother and her mother’s stories of ancient days long past- gods and goddesses, heroes and battles. While Andy had read of some of these things, he had always thought it mere fiction. He would listen to (Y/N) with rapt attention. Damica had heard much of it before from (Y/N), but still she listened attentively. She enjoyed the sounds of their voices, their company, and their excitement at learning from one another.
To sleep each night, the group cuddled closely together for warmth. (Y/N) grew to hate her brass hands, for when she accidentally touched Andy, he would startle. However, it was not the coldness of her touch he was reacting to, but rather that she had laid a hand on him at all.
At first, Andy found such close contact with (Y/N) maddening, and his resolution to honor his vow was challenged again and again. But with time he grew to appreciate her closeness for what it was- warmth shared against the cold by someone he… cared deeply for. Very deeply. Not unlike (Y/N), Andy also struggled not to think of her in any fashion that was not platonic.
All of this was readily apparent to Damica, who decided to ignore such fatuous behavior. For the time being, she had given up on facilitating the two of them becoming a mated pair. She had realized that it was between them, that nothing she could do would sway them. And, frankly, she had better things to do. Neither of her companions had any idea how many times Damica steered them clear of potential trouble- the predators, foul weather, and rock and landslides, for the land north of the Alps was rife with danger.
Through the harsh winter, with strength of spirit and great camaraderie, the trio persevered. It was in a land called Austria that they saw the first signs of winter losing its battle with spring. And, several weeks later, as they passed through Hungary, came the true blossoming of spring. Once more green returned to the land around them. Nevertheless, though their labors had already been many, there were still many tests yet to come.
A Demon’s Regret #90- a Smutty Andy Biersack story
(links to read past entries are in my profile bio)
I ran back to the kitchen to unplug the waffle iron I had forgotten, turned on the fan in the stove hood, grabbed the stepstool from the closet, silenced the fire alarm, opened the door to the balcony, and then put the stepstool away, all while intermittently reassuring Ash and Andy that everything was fine and that, no, I did not need help. Once I was done, I noticed the sound of conversation drifting from the guestroom. Curious, I tried to sneak up close enough to listen, but I was apparently no match for Ash’s uncanny senses. There was a pause, then, “we’re not fighting, (Y/N).” Somewhat embarrassed at being caught, I walked into the room with flaming cheeks.
Though neither one looked relaxed or comfortable, there was no sign of the raging hostility I’d feared. Really the most noticeable thing about the situation was that Ashley’s tail was considerably matted from sitting on it for so long. I stared at them both, openly suspicious that one or the other of them was about to throw a tantrum.
Andy was the first to speak. Turning back to Ash, he cleared his throat, “well, brother, as I said, I owe you a great deal of thanks. I can never truly repay you, but I shall attempt to do so with the utmost sincerity.” Andy stood rigidly still and extended his still-bloody hand.
After only a second or two of hesitation, Ash took the few steps necessary to skip Andy’s hand and clasp his forearm instead. Ash’s massive arm wobbled a bit when Andy reciprocated. “You’re welcome.” I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “You can start by not telling anyone I let myself go for a few months.” He smiled awkwardly at Andy, clearly uncomfortable with the fact that he was actually being totally serious.
Andy nodded solemnly, “I swear it.”
With that, Ash turned to me with open arms. “Do I get a goodbye hug?” I didn’t miss the sound of Andy’s tail cracking like a whip as Ash and I shared a completely platonic hug, though Andy didn’t say anything out loud. After a quick squeeze, I pulled away, feeling self-conscious about tearing up a bit.
Ash just smiled, his brown eyes warm. “What’s 6 inches long, 2 inches wide, and drives women wild?” I shrugged. “A hundred dollar bill!” I laughed, briefly closing my eyes, and when I opened them again, Ash was gone.
I turned to Andy, my first impulse to fly into his arms for comfort at having bid my constant companion of the last 14 weeks goodbye. However, once the trickles of blood on his palms caught my eye, my concern for his wellbeing took precedence. Though it took some coaxing, I was able to get him to explain what had happened to his hands and knees, undress, and lie down on my bed so I could tend to his wounds.
Carefully I tweezed the shards of glass from his hands and knees before applying bactine and a few butterfly strips. After an initial fussy protest, Andy quickly grew complacent and lay obediently, purring and clearly enjoying the attention I was glad to give.
As I returned to the bedroom after putting all my supplies away, I found Andy sitting up and smiling widely. It finally began to set in that he had come back, we were together again, and that the impossible had somehow come together and worked out. “Snuggle with me, mistress?” It was like a beautiful fairytale as we fell into each other’s arms, laying together on the bed with legs entwined and foreheads touching. The rumble of his purr reverberated in his chest, lulling me further into dreamlike contentment.
After some time of holding each other, Andy slid his hand under the hem of my shirt to press softly against my back. I chuckled lazily, “didn’t take you very long to put the moves on me, Andy-man.”
I had intended it as a joke, but he immediately withdrew his hand and pulled back from me. His expression was worried, “sincerest apologies, beloved. Though I was only aware of an intention to feel your skin against mine, I fear you must surely be correct. Though my heart suffered the greatest at being parted from you for so long, my loins also pined for…” he trailed off, sounding ashamed. “I’m so sorry.”
The combination of tenderness and suppressed desire in his words started to turn me on. I shook my head, “don’t be.” Too shy to say what I was thinking, I went for the direct route. It took some shuffling, but I managed to shuck my clothes off. I felt self-conscious as I did it, but the beat of my pounding heart drove me through my insecurity.
Andy watched me the whole time. His expression was conflicted, but grew more heated as I removed my underthings. Once I lay back down against him, leaving us bare to each other, I could feel his penis stiffening against me, just as I could feel the eager wetness between my legs.
After quickly adjusting himself, he put his arm around me again and slid his hand from the small of my back to in between my shoulder blades. “You’re are dazzling to behold, my empress. It is impossible not to stare, to drink you in with my eyes.” His claws pricked lightly against my skin. Though I could feel his erection getting harder against me, he kept his clear blue, feline eyes on mine. “I missed you so much; I have never felt such profound misery. It was agony to be apart from you.”
I hadn’t been intimate with anyone in months, and some of my shyness had returned. I felt heat in my cheeks as I averted my eyes, burned by the intensity of his gaze. “I missed you too, everyday. Um, and every night too.”
Andy started twirling a lock of my hair around his long fingers. “Have I not told you that I am vain? That depriving me of your gaze is as denying water to a man dying of thirst?” Once I looked up at him again, he grinned cheekily, his fangs on display. “Though, of course, it does not please me to hear you have suffered in any way, I confess a certain degree of satisfaction and pride to know you care so greatly.”
I couldn’t help but smile back as I gave a little shrug. “I love you.”
His eyes sparkled, and I felt his dick twitch against me. “As I love you, my pet.” Impulsively, I reached for his cock and gave it a light squeeze, relishing the feel of it. Warm, with soft skin and an already generous firmness underneath. It throbbed in response to my touch.
I didn’t get a reaction I could have expected, however. Andy’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened. “(Y/N)!” He looked legitimately scandalized as he glanced down at my hand on him in seeming disbelief, though he didn’t move my hand or pull away.
Confused and embarrassed, I let go. “I, uh-“
Andy looked even more puzzled than I did, “is snuggling not free of sexual contact?” He studied my face for a moment, “why are you upset?” Then he pouted a little, “I didn’t mean to get an erection! I told you I was sorry; please don’t tease me!”
I put my arm around him and gave his back a reassuring scratch. He responded by holding me more tightly, his expression still concerned. That close, the smell of him was delicious. I spoke softly in his ear, “I wasn’t teasing; I’m turned on.”
Andy moved back a ways again and raised an eyebrow, still clearly bewildered, “I know, mistress, but I thought perhaps we are meant to ignore such things when snuggling. You broke the rules!”
I chuckled. How he was, in some ways, so naïve, when he was so many centuries old, was beyond me. “I was trying to transition from snuggling to, you know, sexy-type stuff.”
Comprehension dawned and he nodded as he began to purr again. “That explains why you are so very aroused. May I kiss you, then?”
Don’t forget you guys can follow me on Wattpad! All of my updated stories are there, and when I post sneak peeks most of the time it’s there as well! Everything I’ve written is also nicely organized so you don’t have to worry about following the links constantly too lol
The Ghost of Ohio, Andy Biersack’s second solo album as Andy Black, is out now! It is slammin’ folks- check it!
(Grainy photo taken by me at a recent show, yay!)
—
Side note for readers of mine:
I haven’t been updating because my health is tanking hardcore. I will do my best to write when I’m able. I swear I’m not abandoning any of my stories intentionally- it is only because I have a few health problems (and one really big one) that are ruining my life. This has been going on well over a year now, and worsening. I’m not happy with all my work hanging in limbo either. 😔
Also, I’ve noticed tumblr rarely (if ever?) shows my posts in searches, so my motivation to post here is dwindling. What would be the point if I know I’ll never get new readers, right?
This is a sibling to A Demon’s Regret. Andy is a very rare sort of demon that feeds off of first fulfilling the desires of desperate, lonely women, then leaving them in the dust. Could someone put a wrinkle in his perfectly operating machine?
#96
I hummed to myself merrily as I went about my task, diligent in my work. I had already cleaned up all the items we had knocked over and disposed of the sullied sheets on my bed. Next I worked on…
Lord Andrew is looooong dead. While he’s spent centuries haunting the site of his murder and mastered his spectral talents, one strange day, things actually change.
#15
Guilt over the part I had played in (Y/N)’s murder seemed to weigh me down, to claw at me, wanting to drag me into the earth itself. I was a killer meeting my victim for the first time, having…
Andrew is determined to see the world and experience the wonders outside his small village. First on his list is to investigate the terrible beast that lives in the caves in the forest. What fate could befall him there?
#32
For the remainder of autumn through the beginning of winter, our intrepid group journeyed southeast through the land of the Franks. Though terrain grew increasingly more difficult, the three friends…
Here I shall collect my various and sundry one-shots and other miscellany. I’m an AB-centric kinda writer.
#12b- Krampusnacht
Immediately we were on him, slicing at his back and legs hard and fast. Though bullets were more effective, they were off the table with the bait in line of fire. Initially Krampus hardly seemed to…
Read more…
Smutty Pariah @smuttypariah - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
