#Dion was well received

[altocat]

There is no hetero explanation for the way Sephi talks and looks at cloud

Square is tripling down on Sephiroth's evil gay crush on Cloud and I am HERE for it.

[torgawl]

i am so emotional with harpocrates and dion's side quest. harpocrates who blames himself for not have offered dion his friendship and support besides the knowledge he shared with him when he was once his tutor. dion who feels so incredibly guilty for having destroyed his nation, what he held the most deer, who feels deeply ashamed and scared of what the person that inspired him all those years ago might think of him and his character after his deeds. harpocrates who doesn't blame him for another's ill intent but recognizes the anguish the prince battles with everyday and who wants to atone for his sense of personal failure towards him by gifting him the flower that represents his nation and making him know he isn't defined by his roots, that he is proud of the man the prince became. dion who is so thankful for the role the loresman had in his life but doesn't feel worthy of receiving the symbol of his people before fullfiling the duty he believes he has, si he defers the flower until after he bids his life against the one who ruined his nation to atone for the crimes he committed. harpocrates who plans cultivate wyvern tails for dion's return and bids farewell with an obvious sadness in his voice. dion who's reparation of his wrongdoings has been looking a bit too much like a forever depart...

[beliscary]

bahamut/terence/dion but like in a yue/toya/yukito way

[just-a-ghost00]

What you should know about them

Think of a person that you would like to enquire about before picking your group. It can be romantic or platonic.

Group 1 🐚 

Overall energy represented by the Fool | Spread : 6 of cups, 6 of pentacles, Justice, 5 of wands, King of wands, 3 of pentacles

This person has a child, possibly a son. Their life is taking a radical U-turn. They are starting anew. This could mean they are either divorcing or moving away from a situation / a job that caused conflicts in their life. They are looking for balance and a sense of peace because their life was chaotic up until now. The presence of their child and their wellbeing is also a major factor in their decisions. There were a lot of conflicts in their household regarding their job. Maybe this person was too ambitious and not open enough to learning and listening to people's advice. Maybe their responsibilities clouded their vision to the point where they were disregarding their reponsibilities as a partner and a parent. It could also be they had an affair with a younger person or at least they admitted to having their eyes set on another person. Because on the cards, the king of wands is depicted looking at the left while he's kinda throwing fire at the right. On the left of this king of wands is the 5 of wands, showing a young woman being cornered by four other people. She looks modest but strong in her power, even when acculated by more influential people. On the right of the king is the 3 of pentacles, picturing some kind of nun. The nun looks kinda sad. She is contemplating and her heart is guarded by her crossed hands. As if she were saying : "Lord why did it have to come to this?" It's like the king wants to rescue the 5 of wands person while he's potentially hurting the 3 of pentacles person. This is very specific and may not resonate with everyone.

If this isn't the case of your person, it could be that they are feeling triggered and cornered by other people and they have a hard time moving on. Instead of being the bigger person and not giving them any more attention, they dwell on what happened and try to wrap their mind around ways they can work this out, hoping they could change them. This person is longing for meaningful connections where they don't have to fight or overgive to be respected and cared for, to receive love and acceptance. They are tired of fighting for bread crumbs and they intend on getting retribution for the wrong that has been done to them. This person could be a soulmate of yours. You are bonded by karma and divine justice. They bring balance in exchange and wealth, as well as reciprocated love. Their presence in your life is a retribution for all the hard times you went through. You may be wary of them at first and try to resist the attraction you feel for them. But with time, you'll learn to see them for who they are and work together towards a new journey without fear of being judged or deceived. This energy feels very similar to group 3 so you may want to check that as well.

Letters : T N I D V S I O Z D I E T E Words/signs/names : division, divide, vision, tides, vines, zones, iode, ions, veins, tied, Dion, soviet, diet, dine, tones, dives, zen, Sonie, son, NOV(ember), Ted, sin, void, OVNI (UFO), Dio, TV, zionist, edits, tense, videos, visio, Oz, TNT, DVDs, seize, Vinted

Group 2 🎐

Overall energy represented by 7 of pentacles | Spread : queen of cups, hierophant, page of swords, king of cups, emperor, fool

The person you're thinking about could be your FS and/or divine counter part. If you're in a relationship with them or you intend to be, there could be jealousy around the relationship coming from a father figure. The connection between you needs time to progress but a good outcome can be expected. A new phase in the relationship is taking place. This could be them taking it to the next level by offering commitment or moving in with you. Your relationship could be work related. This person is very grounded and nurturing. They have a sweet and reliable energy that makes people feel super safe and protected. They are a good communicator and don't have issues with voicing out their needs, their worries, their feelings. For some of you this person could be religious. For some this person likes to have a lot of fun and do a lot of outdoor activites. They like to work out. I'm getting a very masculine energy from this person. As a child, they may have delt with toxic masculinity and controlling parents, especially their dad. I'm really getting this person potentially proposing to you. Cause the Hierophant combined with the page of swords makes me think of legal matters surrounding commitment. So they could be filing a paper to officially recognize you as their "wife"/"husband", or at least someone they are "tied to" according to the law. I feel like this is very important for them. Like this person was not fully into the relationship because that important step wasn't reached. I mean, this would be logical knowing they are potentially religious. They were waiting for engagement to fully embrace the connection you have.

I asked spirit for more information as I wasn't getting much from the initial spread. The cards were the Hierophant again combined with the Star and the 3 of pentacles. So I'm getting that for some of you the relationship wasn't official. It wasn't even publically known that this person liked you on a romantic level to the point of wanting to marry you. They even hid it from their family, maybe because of cultural differences or because you were from different social backgrounds. For some I'm even getting your person is an important public figure. They couldn't tell people they had the intention of marrying you because they would have gotten backlash about it. But they're tired of hiding what they feel and they want to be able to work on this relationship without shame nor fear. They want to do right by you, in the name of the law and the name of their spiritual beliefs. So they want to make it public. They want to close the distance between you. I'm also getting a message of this connection being a protection for you. A protection from a rigid father figure or from masculines in general. It's like this person wants to "claim" that you are theirs because they just can't stand anymore the though of you being courted by other people.

Letters : B G E R A R S B L I T E N I words/signs/names : Nile, Blaise, Argent, bites, raise, arts, breast, genie, girls, Line, Lina, real, siren, gears, bears, big, lasting, Italie (Italy), Brésil (Brazil), trains, Real (as in Real Madrid), Neil, rentals, Bergen, Iran, star, stranger, liars, brags, listen, bars, blasting, Berlin, Nial, anis, teens, trials, brats, barbers, grabs, gelatine

Group 3 🌊

Overall energy 6 of cups | Spread : Tower, 8 of wands, The Lovers, page of cups, King of swords, Queen of swords

This person is a soulmate. They have divine counterpart potential. There was jealousy surrounding this person's relationship in the past, a lot of gossip that possibly lead to a major shift in their life. Possibly a breakup/divorce. There were a lot of interferences, a lot of heat. They couldn't see clear anymore. So a choice has been made by this person to move on from their toxic environment. They could have met you in the process of moving away from this relationship and they decided to give your connection a chance. They like you more than just a little. Yet, they may be scared of what they feel so they could be somewhat reluctant to make a move. At the same time, they want to come forward quickly and tell you what's on their heart. There's a lot of conflicting energy surrounding this person.

What's positive in this situation is that they view you as their equal. They're aware of what you can bring to the table and their feelings are genuine. I don't sense any ill will coming from this person. But rather a lot of affection and a strong desire to protect. They are evolving quickly. After the shift in their personal life, a lot of things have happened to them at a fast pace. Maybe they quickly found a new home if they were looking to relocate. Maybe it was about job offers or just finding a new person (aka you). They quickly moved on from whatever trouble they were facing before. They are not the type to dwell on a situation if they know they did their part and there is nothing more they can do. Even more when they know what they want. They may not be sure about what they hope for with you, but they know for certain they want to get closer and get to know you better. I feel for this group your meeting with this person is quite recent. Either that or they recently developed feelings for you which weren't there before.

I felt the need to ask for clarification about the gossip surrounding their relationship. The card are : 2 of wands, High Priestess, 3 of pentacles. People were doubting this person's loyalty toward their partner because they were not being transparent about what they were working on. They were elusive about their projects, their job. People may have found suspicious that they spent more time at work away from their partner (and possibly kids) instead of being home with the ones they loved. When all this person was doing was just to try to protect their loved ones from their work struggles. For others, it could have been that they were accused of having an affair with a coworker. I'm getting this person's job requires to travel a lot, especially abroad. People were suggesting to their partner that they had a double life, that they found another person in a foreign country with whom they were cheating on their partner. In reality, people were wrongly assuming your person's intents. They have a very different conception of relationships than what most people think. If for others love for a partner should be shown by spending quality time with them and constantly being present for them, they like to show appreciation for their partner by trusting them enough to leave them be and have their free space. This person doesn't feel the need to know and control everything about their partner. They don't feel the need to be constantly tied to their loved ones. They like to have their own little bubble and they allow the same for their partner. They instead show love by supporting their person's independence, giving words of affirmation, providing a different point of view on life, taking care of their health by doing acts of services. For instance, they are definitely the type to work extra hours to provide for their family so that their partner doesn't have to and can enjoy more free time. They have been wrongly judged. You might want to check group 1.

Letters : M V I C A K M O T E S S R words/signs/names : Kassim, cakes, cars, moms, VISA, raise, crest, tears, Sommer (summer), Kaiser, sister, socks, cream, voice, cries, Moris, Cris, mess, Messi, Roma, mics, east, tram, Vimeo, Cameo, cams, treks, tracks

[ne-videl]

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤

♡

yandere Dion Agriche x fairy fem reader

he will gladly go even to his own death if you'll order him to.

sub yandere, unhealthy relationship, a little bit of Cassis x reader, mentions of violence, reader and Dion have master/pet relationships, also reader is referred to as "sister" a few times so pseudo incest I guess, sfw but a bit suggestive, everybody likes you!! poor english

word count: ~2k

a/n: there I am again drooling over fictional men. so here's my favorite yandere trope!! for if your psychopath doesn't worship you it's not your psychopath ©

honestly when I was reading this manhwa for the first time and saw dion I was like "damn I want this man on his knees 🤨🤨", so here you are. eat.

"you're a dog, Dion." – not-Roxanne lifts the corners of her lips in a slight smile, while her neat fingers run through his shaggy hair.

"your dog," – Dion adds mentally.

you feel the touch of his dry lips on your bare foot.

sitting like this, kneeling in front of you, seems right – it can't be any other way, and it won't be.

"may I?" – after receiving tacit approval, he leans closer, his hand stroking your bare thigh.

you smell like flowers: maids must have added rose oil to the water, and this smell digs into his lungs, making him roll his eyes in ecstasy.

just from this, from the fact that you are so close, he could just reach his hand out and feel you.

your body is cold – devoid of any human warmth, burning his skin with the cold of it's touch. your eyes look with a non malicious mockery: how a person looks at their beloved pet. with kind condescension.

you lean in, and Dion feels a kiss at the top of his head. scent of roses hits his nose, almost suffocating, and it feels like his mind is about to give up. well, if he dies right here, he won't regret a bit.

crimson flush on his cheeks almost burns his skin.

____*:･ﾟ✧

"hello. my name is ███████. do you mind playing with me, brother?"

he turns around at the girly voice behind him – distracting himself from the dead bird – and he is met by the look of your laughing eyes.

not red ones.

his sister tucks a lock of her hair behind her little ear and sits down next to him, waiting for an answer.

shouldn't she be blonde like Roxanne?

who is Roxanne?

"okay." – Deon catches his sister's smile and for some reason wants to smile too. she talks about a cute teddy bear that her father gave her, about how she likes to drink tea under the summer sun, and that she probably likes him too.

he had once seen in a book: in the old fairy tales that mothers read to their children, it was said that fairies could replace a human child with their own.

none of Agriche's children believed in fairy tales, but it seems appropriate for his "sister" – you, not-Roxanne, must be a fairy. a lovely creature with transparent wings and a honey voice.

he doesn't mind. whatever calls itself his sister, Deon thinks he really, really likes it.

____*:･ﾟ✧

if he's not on a mission, Deon is always by your side.

"what are you doing here? can't you see sister is with me now?" – Jeremy mumbled indignantly, but you only laughed softly, covering your lips with a neat palm.

a beautiful silver ring glitters on the sixth finger of the "sister".

their father also adores you – maybe it's natural for fairies to charm everyone around them – from members of their so-called "family" to the maids and even the hounds of the estate.

maybe he's a hound himself in her eyes. it didn't matter, as long as he could be with his "sister" – or at least with the creature that pretended to be her.

it was undoubtedly a pleasure to belong to you.

Deon drapes a white fur coat over your shoulders: you often went out into the garden in light clothes, as if the winter cold did not bother you at all. your hair falls over the fur collar, and you smile at him, giggling about how quietly he walks, and chirping about something else. you were fond of chatting, and it was often very difficult to stop listening to you. he, however, usually spoke rarely and little, accompanying you, his mistress, like a silent shadow.

you're spending too much time in the company of a Pedelian pup – an unacceptably long time – so that his eye begins to twitch with anger.

isn't he enough? why would you need this toy if he is always at your feet, your faithful dog, a hound, ready to do whatever you want without a trace of doubt and regret?

Dion wished you'd let him kill Cassis.

"may I ask you a question?" – you turn at the sound of his voice. surrounded by a winter garden, you look even more beautiful, pitch black against dead-white snow. perfection.

"of course, ask. what is it?" – "sister" raises an eyebrow a little stiffly, not naturally, just a little bit.

"do you like him more? I dare not doubt you, and you should not doubt my loyalty, but still-" – his scarlet eyes narrow slightly – "but still, do you like him more?"

if you answer yes, he will go and kill the eldest of the Pedelian offspring on the spot. this is Deon's place. and the hell he's going to let someone else take it.

"of course not, silly." – you laughed – "didn't we discuss this earlier? toys are toys, but you were and will remain my favorite."

right. that's how it should be. why did he even doubt it?

"favorite." – mentally repeats after you while your six-fingered palm rests on his head: you had a habit to pet him like a puppy.

"favorite." – gaze of crimson eyes trembles, invariably riveted to you, and Dion struggles with the desire to grab the object of his sick adoration in his arms, hug you, to feel the cold of your inhuman body at least through clothes. your smell is dope, your touch is opium, your eyes are an abyss, mesmerizing with the horror of its cold depths.

but he can't. you didn't allowed it yet.

and he, as befits a well-trained hound, will obediently wait for your permission.

____*:･ﾟ✧

"███████. that's not your real name, is it? what are you?" – Cassis looks at you expectantly.

you tilt your head to the side, picturesquely rounding your eyes and raising your neat eyebrows.

theatrically. not natural.

"what are you talking about? I am me. who else do you think I can be? stop asking stupid questions, darling." – you answer with a mocking smile. like he's saying something ridiculous.

"are you kidding me? you have six fingers! why doesn't anyone else notice this? besides, you look different, not at all like-" – Cassis cuts himself off in mid-sentence.

like who?

"you know, forget it... it's like I haven't been myself lately. you know, with all this kidnapping, and even your brother..." – he shakes his head nervously under your laughing gaze.

something inside told him that if he kept asking questions now, it won't end well. and anyway, why would he do that? after all, it's not polite to interrogate his benefactress.

everything is fine.

"the less you know the better you sleep, my dear. why don't we just proceed as planned? and how many fingers I have is none of your business." – you look appraisingly, as an already well-fed snake looks at a mouse.

eat or not?

"if I were you, I'd be more worried about the success of your future escape, and for that matter, about my dear brother. you see, Dion has been wanting to twist your neck for a long time." – mention of the red-eyed man makes Cassis tense up.

when you see his reaction, you giggle like you just said the funniest joke in the world.

"come on. I was joking. Dion won't hurt you unless I tell him to. he's a good boy."

when he thinks about it, you, the elder Agriche, had a lot in common with the poisonous butterflies you adored so much. in the sense that Cassis often got the impression that you wanted to devour him. at least it wasn't hard to imagine transparent wings behind your back.

____*:･ﾟ✧

gatherings with your father always ended well after midnight – invariably over cigars and wine, in his office full of acrid tobacco smoke.

it was no secret who will become the next head of Agriche: Lante never hid his paradoxical favoritism. with you alone he had the relationship that most closely resembles the relationship of a parent to a child.

"in general, everything is going as it should. don't forget to dress up for the next dinner party: I've already called the designers." – Lante exhaled a cloud of smoke, smiling cheekily: alcohol was doing its job.

"as you wish. Is Dion doing good at his job?" – you answered with a relaxed face: wine, as well as many other "human" things, had no effect on you.

"you ask as if you don't know. you raised him well." – you slightly unnaturally round your eyes in surprise – "only a fool here does not know that the only person to whom my son is truly faithful is you. I don't know how you did it, but these mind games of yours seem to have had the desired effect. of course, you're my daughter! you're more like a dog with a mistress, not a brother and sister."

Lante bursts into a deep laugh, and his "daughter" does not deny herself a satisfied grin.

a dog and his mistress, huh?

heavy doors of the head's office closed behind your fragile – at least visually –figure.

you are greeted by the night chill of the deserted corridor of the estate and your dog waiting in the distance.

"hi, Dion. already returned?" – he just nods silently in response, coming closer to you and offering his hand.

my-my, just came from a mission in the middle of the night and immediately rushed to you. how obedient.

"did you hear it?" – you tilt your head to the side with a sly grin.

"I did. while I was waiting for you." – he doesn't say anything about Lante's comment. doesn't deny it.

indeed, you raised him well. no trace of pride was left.

Dion in your hands – a faithful puppy, readily following any of your instructions. even if you'll send him right to his death, he will return, only bowing his head in anticipation of praise and the touch of your cold hands.

and you, like a good master, praise, and stroke, and kiss. after all, if there is a stick, there must be a carrot.

____*:･ﾟ✧

"here we will part, my dear friend. we have already discussed your plan of action, so I see no point in repeating myself. go to freedom, but quickly: we, you know, deal with riots quickly."

"wait, listen, please. can you at least answer me before I leave? what are you, really? I always have the feeling that you're not who you seem. I mean... no, I like you, I really like you, it's just-" – Cassis cuts himself off, realizing that he blurted out too much.

he's all flushed, confused in words, and you're just looking at him with your unnerving eyes and smiling.

watching. and aren't blinking.

"God, no matter how much years I'm carrying on my shoulders, it's the first time I've met such a curious human." – you purse your scarlet lips, thinking about the answer – "don't worry, "she" is now where she will be better. and as for your question, dear, you can consider that I'm just a bystander. yes, let's think so. so stop talking and run, okay?"

"and you? will you be okay?" – you raised your eyebrow: still unnatural, however, he's already used to it.

exit from the estate is already very close, just a stone's throw away, and Cassis is hesitating. desperately grabbing your wrist, looking with shining yellow eyes into your laughing, soulless ones.

tch.

"what, you want to stay my toy forever? you know, I'm an Agriche too, and I might change my mind about letting you go if you keep looking at me like a beaten puppy." – realizing that your quip was not accepted by the "audience", you rolled your eyes, but then broke into your too perfect smile again.

"don't worry. I can't be killed in a way that matters."– a six-fingered palm rests on the top of his head, and your face stretches into a grin, not human, too wide for a human.

but he's not scared. he wants to watch more – it's impossible to look away, even if his instinct for self-preservation screams that he needs to get out of here as soon as possible.

the abyss, as it turned out, can really look back, and it is beautiful in its terrifying appearance.

is this how Deon feels every time he looks at something that calls itself his sister?

"well, let's never meet again, my friend." – and Cassis leaves, leaves without turning around, because he understands that if he turns around, he will never be able to leave this nightmarish estate. he won't want to.

you hesitate a little, watching him with unblinking eyes, and with a sense of accomplishment you turn back.

your face rests against a man's chest. familiar scent of ash and blood hits your sensitive nose.

"and you're still walking silently." – Dion drapes his coat over your bare shoulders. a gloved hand lingers on your skin a little longer than it should.

"it's cold in the dungeons. you should have dressed warmer." – you laughed a little.

he knows perfectly well that you don't feel the cold, but he does this every time anyway.

"and what, you won't even ask anything? aren't you curious why I let the Pedelian offspring go?" – your six–fingered hand is holding his elbow as you wind through the dark and cold corridors.

"I will not question your methods. but was it wise to talk about your secret, even in this way? doesn't he know too much now?" – it's not difficult to understand what he's hinting at: in his opinion, you should've get rid of Cassis. athough never said out loud, your "brother's" dislike of your toy was ridiculously strong.

ah, men's jealousy!

"let him think what he wants. there are no big conclusions to be drawn from what I said anyway." – you tilt your head to the side, your eyes lazily scan the walls of the dungeon. he just nods and continues to walk beside you in silence.

Dion never asked too much, never doubted any of your actions, never poked his nose where it should not be. you certainly raised him well. no, even exceeded your own expectations.

what a good boy.

mom yelled at me for almost a hour and I wanna curl up and die 🤩

thanks for reading!!

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

1  2  3  4  5 7 8 9 10

Chapter 6

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: implied possessive and obsessive themes/actions/behaviors/thoughts, reader is one second away from having a panic attack, indirect mention of death, mention of murder, implied toxic family/child abuse, very, very light choking, mention/possible stalking, Toxic marriage/relationship, Reader is so done mentally despite only living in the Argece mansion for one (1) day, Reader becomes sassy, jealousy, everyone ooc

NSFW warnings: Very suggestive, throw back to their first time, implied dacryphilia

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE THEY ARE BOTH ARE  EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS 

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DON’T INTERACT/REBLOG WITH FANDOM STUFF DNI AND PLEASE DO NOT SPAM LIKE MY POSTS

= = =

“You never once referred to Dion as your husband.” 

“P-pardon?” 

That caught you off guard. Frankly speaking, calling the man your husband aloud is stomach-turning. Not that you would admit that, or rather not that you could. The punishment you would receive from Lant if it were to ever reach his ears…

 “Well, we haven’t been married for even a week.” Carefully explaining yourself, you scan behind her to check if anyone was there. “So, I am still a bit shy about it.” You smile shyly. Blood rushes through your veins and you can hear the thundering pumping and feel it. 

Your blood becomes ice and skin slime as Roxana observes your behavior and reaction before making a move. Fresh coral lips tug into a soft smile as Roxana sees past your lie and stares into your soul. Her eyes remind you of your husband’s; glowing scarlet that curtains their true emotions and thoughts. 

Sinister or otherwise, you’re afraid to drown in them. 

“I see. That’s adorable.” She reminds you of a venus fly trap; inviting only to trap you. Even so, her ‘affection’ towards you nearly has you tripping on your feet. No. This is how she gets people. 

“Lady Roxana, I had a fun time speaking with you.” You halfheartedly bid her farewell, bowing. You plan on walking the moment you raise your head. What you don’t plan on doing, however, is returning to your chambers immediately. 

Ah, but… where would you even go? 

“Oh, right. Do you remember the way?” she blinks at you while you blink back. Your mind is a void - absolutely nothing in it. Next, she laughs. 

It sounds like bells on Christmas, a chorus in the church, that exciting and relieved feeling you get once you hear ‘shift’s over,’ from the managers. Head full of cotton, you allow yourself to simply enjoy this moment. Once the blissful laughter has ended, she offers to guide you.

Personally. 

“O-oh, it’s fine - “ you just got mind fucked - Roxana willingly go anywhere near Dion’s room? Something’s not right. You take a step back. 

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” You give her a faux smile, worried.

 Worried for what? Your safety? The possible argument that could break out between the two half-siblings? Seeing something you’re not supposed to? Or having to awkwardly stand to the side as Dion acts weirdly and creepy towards his sister?

“It’s fine; I’d like to get to know you more. We’re family now, so it’s natural.” 

We’re family now. 

“...I’ll accept then. Thank you for taking care of me.” The scream that wishes to burst from your chest, the saliva drowning your gums and mouth, the quiver that threatens to take over your body - you hold it back. You have to. 

“It’s not a problem.” 

Fear prevents you from asking about Hana. 

You follow once she starts to walk, the sound of heels hitting the floor echoing. Even her back is elegant - perfect form, back straight and head up. Carrying an air of sophistication and confidence, Roxana Agriche deserves the female lead role. Her blond waves lightly bounce with each step. 

She is the definition of beauty. 

And as a dedicated fan - also driven by fear and mental stress - you will stay steps behind her. It’s for the best, it’s for your safety. Walk in her shadow but not at her side. Let the spotlight shine on her so you won’t be noticed, left alone by anyone and everyone. That is one plan for survival. 

“Oh? Sorry, I didn’t realize that you were behind me.” The fifteen-year-old girl waits for you to join her side after stopping, refusing to walk another inch until you do so. And your eighteen-year-old self  hesitates - not because you feel inferior to her. God no, but because her mind is a puzzle you can’t solve. 

You don’t have the power to read her thoughts. You are only able to guess. 

This isn’t fiction anymore. 

“It’s fine. I was also lost in thought.” Busy with admiring her rather. You pick up your pace a bit if only to please her. She resumes guiding you once you’re right by her. Nothing falls into place despite observing her from the corner of your eye. You don’t sense anything.

No hostility nor mischief. There wasn’t a hint of pity on her face. Mockery was also absent, genuine joy nonexistent. 

“If I may say, you’re more lovely than I heard.” She compliments you, offering another one of those sweet smiles. And like the fool you are, you trip over both your feet and words. 

“A-ah, you’re too kind. If anything, the saying goes towards you.” Your neck feels hot and your mind is turning to mush. “Truly, you are indeed an interesting person.” 

She stops again, taken aback. But she quickly recovers before returning back to the conversation. “Interesting? You’re the first person to describe me as such.” 

“That’s a surprise. I thought many would have.” You think about it. What was the first thing everyone notices about Roxana? Her beauty, of course. 

But, as a reader, how could you ignore and forget her personality? 

…then again, this entire time you were mentally obsessing over her appearance and voice. You were no better than everyone else.

You take a turn in the ridiculously long hallway. Just for a moment, tranquility replaces the harshness of reality. Funny. 

One moment you’re afraid of her and the next she brings you peace. She’s a bit easier to deal with than Dion. Softer, gentler, and outwards she is humane. The most sane family member in this hell. 

“We’re in the main hallway.” Roxana informs, and the staircase looks familiar. When you had made your way with Hana to the dining room, you were disorienting so hard you didn’t even realize your feet were moving. 

“Up these stairs and we’ll be closer to your room.” Roxana tells you, a hint of disgust in her voice. Aha. So she doesn’t want to go near him. Then why guide you? 

“Oh,” you say, “how nice.” How wonderful indeed, seeing the husband who left after your first night, who’s acting weird, who’s brutal personality is hidden beneath a layer of indifference, who probably stalked you while - 

Oh. 

Oh God. 

“? Are you okay? You look pale.”

Roxana’s question brings you back to reality. Blinking, you try to calm yourself before your breathing gets heavier. Your heart won’t stop rattling. Your blood won’t stop rushing. Your ears are ringing. 

Never once did you think of the possibility that Dion Agriche had stalked you during the duration of your engagement. The shampoo, the sheets, that horrifying look in his eyes - 

“Oh. Oh, yes, of course. I’m just a bit… nervous.” Did he stalk you? If so, why? To drill even more fear into you, to show you that he could easily cause you harm? To silently threaten the safety of your family if you were to ever act out? 

“But yes, I’m fine. Just need a minute to gather myself.” 

Either out of curiosity or obligation, or even consideration, Roxana lets you do just that. 

- - -

You got to the door sooner than wanted. Way too soon. 

Despite the show your sister-in-law displays, she can’t hide the disgust and hatred in her eyes as she stares at the heavy double doors. You don’t blame her. Even if he acted out on orders, your husband still killed her brother. Their brother. 

He also attempts to harm her mother. Just to see her cry. 

…would he do the same to you?

“Well,” turning to her, you show a smile. It doesn’t reach your eyes. You’re too tired to even try. “Thank you for showing me the way.” 

You open the door before she could even get a word out. Shut it behind you before every single ounce of bravery evaporates, leaving you a slimy mess. Monster or not, Dion Agriche is still your husband. And, as you were raised, you have to play the role of his wife. 

 His pretty, little, obedient wife. 

Only to see that no-one is in the room. 

“...haha…wow…hahaha!” like a mad woman you giggle, falling to the floor as your legs give out. Was it from stress? Relief? Does it matter? 

You’re happy - you don’t have to see his face for a bit longer. Even if it’s only for a minute, you don’t have to be in his presence. But with happiness comes realization - Dion will eventually show up. He told you such. 

“...I… I just want to sleep.” Your shoulders slump as you become boneless - so much happened within the span of a few hours. Odd behavior, old memories, confusing feelings - you’re not meant for this environment. Forget about being murdered or tortured - your mind would dismantle before anything could happen. 

The floor is uncomfortable but all of your strength is gone. Were you always this weak? This hopeless? So much that you couldn’t even last a single day. Pathetic. 

“...” ahead of you is the bed. The same bed you lost your virginity on. The same bed you will have to share with your arranged husband. It was comfortable, but the fact you laid with Dion on it makes you sick. 

You’d rather sleep on the floor. 

Moonlight fills the room from the glassdoors closing off the terrace. Jeremy said you should escape. Is it worth it? Was jumping off the terrace to attempt an escape worth it? Would you survive it? 

Get caught? 

Die?

Your mind is becoming muddy. You haven’t even met with Lant yet. The worst of the worst. Yet here you are, already thinking foolishly. Of course you would be caught. Dying wasn’t something you wanted to do, though. Neither was being punished for attempting an escape. 

Your ears perk at the sound of the door opening behind you. 

“Do you find the floor more comfortable than the bed?” Voice low and deep, Dion doesn’t even properly greet you. Well, not like you want to either. 

You want to tell him to try it in spite. But you’re too tired to even turn around and face him, much less stand. His footsteps get closer until he’s right behind you. Your eyes shut close. 

“Wife.” He calls once, and you don’t respond. You don’t want to.

You want him to stop calling you that. You want him to stop talking to you. You want him to stop existing. 

His footsteps echo in the room before he kneels in front of you. Finally, you look at him. What type of expression are you making? 

His hand is cold as he brings it up to cup your cheek. Scarlet that glows in the moonlight that looks at you in such a strange way. Do you know what was swirling in his eyes? Do you want to?

“...Dion. Welcome back.” acknowledging him, you peel his hand away from your cheek. He already touched you the night before. That’s enough. 

Instead of leaving, he grasps your wrist. Firm enough to where you couldn’t tug your hand away. You eye it before giving up. Just for now. 

“I’m sorry, but i’m too sore from last night,” you say, assuming that sex is on his mind. Obligation, lust, routine. Either one could be the reason. 

“I’m not here for that. Nor do I want it.” 

Your head tilts to the side before he continues. “Father expects us to dine with him tomorrow.” 

“I see. Is that all?” 

“You look dead,” free hand cupping your face - again - Dion gently swipes his thumb under your eye. “Worse than when you showed up for dinner.” Hah. Is he enjoying himself?

“I’m just tired,” lying your eyes travel to your lap. “I’ll… if that’s all, then I’ll retire to bed.” You want him to leave you alone. You want to go home. 

On shaky legs you force yourself up and your husband lets go of your wrist. Your knees buck as you walk towards the bed. It’s fine. It’s going to be fine. All you need to do is make it to bed. Changing clothes isn’t even on your mind - you just want to lay down. 

“You’re not going to change?” Your husband inquiries. What was wrong with this man? He barely spoke a word to you before the wedding. He left after cumming and leaving you alone, in pain and shivering like a fucking newborn foal. He didn’t spare a fucking glance at you during dinner until his siblings showed up. 

“Where is Hana?” You ignore his question, focusing on the one person who doesn’t feel like a death trap. 

“She retired for the night. On Roxana’s orders.” 

“What? Why?” you almost get whiplash from how hard and fast you turn your head to look at Dion. Your husband has been looking at you this entire time. 

“She didn’t think I’d show up here.” 

I wish you didn’t. I wish you would have stayed indifferent as you were until today.

“Oh. Then, I’ll just sleep like this.” Flopping onto the bed, you kick your heels off. The corset is still tight, and it makes it harder to breathe. But you refuse to ask him for help. 

Thankfully, your husband makes no move to. Instead you hear him walk and the sound of the closet opening. Ruffling of the clothes before it stops. From what you heard, nothing dropped to the floor, rather, heavy boots walk towards the bed until they stop right behind you. 

Amazing how being so mentally and physically worn makes a person forget their survival instincts. How it makes fear turn into annoyance and gulps become huffs. 

But annoyance becomes confusion when something soft and loose lands on your back. Did he just… throw something on you?

Why can’t your husband just pick a side? Decide to ignore you. To be nice to you. Not go back and forth like it’s a fucking swing boat. 

“Wife,” there he goes again with that dreadful title, does he not remember your godforsaken name? “You won’t fall asleep with it on. You’re unable to.” You’re one second away from tearing your hair out. One second away from strangling him. 

You can regret everything tomorrow. 

“... Will you leave me alone if I change?” Supporting yourself on your shoulders you crane your neck to look over your shoulder. Your husband only nods, not explaining why he’s so insistent on having you change. 

You’re so done that you don’t even realize he’s enjoying this side of you. Your frustration, your annoyance, all spent and directed towards him. Tomorrow, when you’re of clear mind you’ll freak out, kicking and yelling at yourself for risking making him mad, only to question why he didn’t say anything in the first place. 

“I can’t reach behind my back,” you communicate to him, waiting for his reaction. A reply that may never come. 

“Just lay face down. I’ll untie it and won’t touch you further.” You wish he would leave and maybe fall down the stairs and break something. Ah, but maybe Lant should go through that instead. Break his neck and lay there, lifeless. How would the scene play out after that?

“Alright,” you give in, preparing for a war that doesn’t exist. Dion removes whatever he threw onto your back before nimble fingers quickly and carefully undo the strings on your dress. Once he’s done with that, he works on the corset, completely gentle. 

Wait, something wasn’t right. 

“Wait, how do you know how to undo the strings so quickly?” Waiting for his answer, you don’t make an effort to watch his reaction. You’d rather not look at the man who’s walking on thin ice right now. Yes, you are going to consider chucking yourself into the nearest river tomorrow. If you could find one. 

“... I was taught.” 

“By?” 

“A teacher.” 

He leaves it at that, choosing to leave out the details. It makes you suspicious. …was he also taught those techniques by a so-called teacher too?

Considering the amount of wives Lant has, STDs most likely don’t exist in this world. Regardless, the mere thought of your husband sleeping with someone before you irritates you. Not because you were jealous or anything of that sort, no; but because it was hypercritical. You were expected to stay ‘pure,’ a virgin while -

“You are the only person I’ve touched, much less slept with.” Was he a mind reader? Or were you just that obvious?

“As your wife, I think I should meet and thank your ‘teacher.’” Exhaustion does wonders to a person. The brain doesn’t work as it should and fright is no longer a thing. Instead it’s replaced by reckless behavior and a clouded mind. 

“Although, I do wish they also taught you aftercare.” 

“That person,” Dion begins, “is someone you know but are unable to see.” Sure Dion Agriche, sure. “As for afterwards… Father called for me.” 

“Mhm. For what?” Cold fingertips barely graze your spine as he looks at your skin. By now everything was untied yet the male doesn’t move. With lidded eyes he considers biting it. But he’s already breaking his promise by granting himself the pleasure to graze it. 

And you’re giving him a pass, perhaps with a blurred mind. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be having this conversation, much less show something other than fear in his presence. 

“To discuss further action regarding our marriage.” 

“You know,” you yawn out, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, “most people in arranged marriages would refer to the marriage as ‘this,’ not ‘ours.’” The call of sleep is tempting you. 

“I’m not most people.”

“I know. If you were then you…” 

“Then what?”

Then you wouldn’t be a product of two insane and mental people. You wouldn’t be so jaded nor affection starved to the point you consider hatred as it. You wouldn’t have killed your own siblings or live solely to make one cry. You wouldn’t wander around the earth until your sister decides to kill you. 

You change the subject. “You could have let me finish at least once. It was my first time - you’re supposed to make it a positive experience.” Why you brought this up, you’re not sure. You doubt he feels guilty about it. 

“...Should I make you now?” He traces your spine, the cold sensation making you shiver. Odd. His touch doesn’t feel as gross as earlier. You must be going mad. 

Even more so since you’re hallucinating the hint of hunger in his voice. 

“No. I hated the entire thing. Just jerk off and I’ll shove it in, or something.” The idea of his cum going anywhere near you repulses you, but you understand your role as a wife. His wife. 

“You also found my crying cute. I don’t like that, I actually hate it.” Was communication always this easy when your body is boneless and mind worn? Was he so talkative because he’s tired as well? 

“I can’t help it, “ Dion rubs circles between your shoulder blades and it makes you melt. For a split second, you forgot who you’re talking to. Where you were, who your husband was, your in-laws forgotten. For a moment, everything was ordinary and domestic. 

“I enjoy seeing you cry.” His fingers travel higher until they are at the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse. He wants to squeeze it, see you squirm. The urge to make you cry over and over again from overstimulation gets harder to resist. You’re allowing him to touch you, to see the skin of your back, to see you so vulnerable - surely, you could offer him a taste too, right? 

“...You’re not supposed to be this way.” A light chuckle comes from your chest. “You’re supposed to be brutal, selfish, unredeemable - well, you probably still are, but still. You’re not supposed to be married nor basically asking your wife to fuck.” 

You go on. 

“You’re not supposed to be this way. You’re driving me crazy, acting so different from what I know.” You’re supposed to be the character that was written in the series. Not… whatever this is.

Maybe you misunderstood his character. But you never did finish the novel and the webtoon was put on hiatus because of the shit the artist went through… you hope she’s doing better now. Way better. 

“Even Jeremy and Roxana are behaving weirdly.” You leave it at that, becoming silent. Dion doesn’t say anything. 

You decide to ask him a question that’s been nagging you ever since he mentioned his ‘teacher.’ 

“Oh, by the way… how would you react if I also had a ‘teacher’?” An undertone of teasing laced your voice - of course, you didn’t mean it. Unless it was a lover, you wouldn’t sleep with anyone outside of marriage. Although, you never did enter a relationship once prior to your engagement. 

The atmosphere becomes stiff. You suddenly remember who you’re dealing with - an Agriche. Dion Agriche, to be exact. 

Horror spreads throughout your body once you realize just what you asked him. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel him lean over you, fingers putting slight pressure on your neck, a silent threat to choke you. He’s like a heavy cover, you can barely breathe. 

When he talks it’s lower and deeper, sinister and possessive, his breath hitting your ear as he answers. 

“Easy. I would kill them.” 

[gigabyte-flare]

He Comes Alive (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: More hikers are going missing and now one of them has been found dead, seeming having been attacked by a strange animal. Meanwhile, Leon stops by your work, giving you an offer you can't refuse.

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, kidnapping, breeding kink, blood play/kink, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

You awake the next morning at around 7:00am, stretching your arms and yawning loudly before rubbing your eyes, the events of the previous night gone from your mind as you climb out of bed. You throw on your pajama pants before going downstairs, where you find both your parents now huddled in front of the TV.

“What’s going on?” you ask, standing in the threshold of the living room before stepping in to join your parents.

What you see, shocks you. It’s a breaking news report. Fish and Game had found one of the hikers, Alicia Walker, dead off of one of the Mt. Lafayette trails.

“They’re calling it an animal attack,” your father suddenly breaks the silence, “there were signs she had been attacked by some kind of animal like a bear or… a coydog. But… I’ve never heard of bears or coydogs attacking people around here.”

Your focus returns to the TV, where you watch the reporter at the Mt. Lafayette trailhead.

“Fish and Game is asking hikers to never hike alone, let friends and family know if they plan on hiking and where, as well as bring adequate protection to defend themselves against wildlife until they can find and euthanize the animal responsible for this attack. Fish and Game believes this same animal is responsible for the other missing hikers, the latest being 21 year old Nathaniel Dion of Oakvale who was last seen Monday--”

Your eyes widen at the name; you went to school with this guy. He wasn’t anyone you knew personally, but he was one of the more popular guys in your high school class. You recall he was a huge fitness junky. He was also Chief Bob’s only son; you could only begin to imagine how much this probably distressed him and his family. 

“Poor Bob and Nancy…” you hear your mother say before she abruptly walks into the kitchen, “I’m going to call them up and see if there’s anything we can do to help them, Mick.”

“Yeah, it’s the least we can do, maybe we should have them over for lunch. I’m sure they could use the company,” your father suggests before turning off the TV and joining your mother in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, you remain in the living room, staring at your reflection in the TV screen before you turn, going back upstairs to your bedroom to get dressed.

Later that day, Chief Bob and his wife Nancy do end up coming over for lunch. Your mother had made up sandwiches and fresh ice tea for everyone. Sitting at the dining table with them was unfortunately awkward, Chief Bob and Nancy were clearly distraught, understandably so. 

“He said he was doing the Lafayette, Lincoln and Liberty loop, which normally only takes him a day or two. When he didn’t come back Wednesday…” Nancy begins, wiping tears from her eyes.

“That’s when I reached out to Fish and Game to report him missing, they immediately organized a search party. That’s when they stumbled upon that other hiker, Alicia. They found her when they were looking for Nate.” Bob finished, clearing his throat as he attempted to regain his composure. 

“Is it true what they’re saying? That an animal is attacking hikers?” you interject before biting into your sandwich.

“That’s the weird part. I asked for a copy of her autopsy report. The poor girl’s throat was practically ripped out, her blood drained out of her body almost completely--”

“Bob, honey, we’re eating.” Nancy scolded.

Bob continues, paying Nancy no mind, “when I talked to the coroner that did her autopsy, he said the bite wound was unlike anything he’s ever seen. I don’t know of a single animal up here that would do that and… drain the blood out like that.”

“I can see why they’re keeping that hush-hush. We don’t need any crazy rumors that we’ve got vampires or some bull crap like that,” Mick replies with his mouth full of sandwich.

“Fish and Game is still looking for Nate, I’m praying to God he just got off trail and got himself lost. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him,” Nancy says with a sigh, resting her hands in her lap as she stares down at her untouched sandwich. 

Your mother reaches over, putting her hand over Nancy’s, giving them a pat, “I have faith that he’s out there. Mick and I and our daughter are here for both of you if there’s anything we can do to help.”

Nancy suddenly bursts into tears, sobbing at the dining room table loudly.

Your mother looks at you, “sweetheart, can you grab the box of tissues that is sitting on my nightstand for Nancy?”

You give your mother a quick nod as you stand up from the dining room table to head upstairs to the master bedroom. So many thoughts were racing through your head, mostly about how the hiker had died. Chief Bob was right; yeah there were bears and coydogs, but nothing would or could suck a person’s blood dry like that. Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you find the box of tissues on your mother’s nightstand, right where she said it was and brought it downstairs.

You sit back down at the table but you can’t help but zone out, thinking about Nate, lost in the forest.

That evening, you get yourself ready to go to work, heading into the garage of your family’s home to get into your bright yellow 1977 Chevrolet Chevette. It was kind of a beater, but it was reliable. Your dad had made sure it was running well prior to you flying back home. You turn the key, the engine roaring to life; you turn around in your seat and slowly back out of the garage to go to work.

You hear Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ come on the radio, you turn up the volume and sing along. After a few minutes, you arrive at the gas station, parking your car on the side of the building before heading inside.

“Hey Peggy!” you call out as you walk in, walking into the back office to drop off your purse and car keys before heading up to the register.

“Hey sweetie!” Peggy replies when you come back out to relieve her from her shift, “how was your day?”

“It was ok, we had lunch with Chief Bob and his wife. I’m sure you heard his son Nate’s missing in the mountains.”

Peggy shakes her head, “I did hear about that, poor kid. I really hope they find him safe and sound. They found one of the other hikers dead, right?”

“Yeah, supposedly attacked by some kind of animal.”

“God help us…” Peggy says under her breath as she walks out from behind the register to let you in.

“Have a good night Peggy!” you say to her, seeing her off as you take up your post.

A couple hours go by, you watch as the sun sets behind the mountains. It was a slow night, so you took that opportunity to mop the floors, zoning out the roar of a motorcycle pulling into the gas station. The sound of the door chime snaps you out of your daze. You look up to greet the customer.

“Hey there, how can I help-- oh! Leon!”

Your heart immediately starts racing again upon seeing Leon. He’s wearing a blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with a black vest on top and tight fitting black pants with black boots. The outfit makes him look otherworldly; simply stunning.

“Hey there, I was hoping you were working tonight,” Leon says, giving you a gentle smile.

“R-Really?” you reply as you haphazardly put your bucket and mop over in a corner, “how… can I be of assistance, Leon?”

“Well, as I’m sure you’ve heard, I bought that old house on the end of Hemlock Drive.”

“Yeah… Mr. Mason’s place, right? Oh… right… you wouldn’t know who that was…” you say, your voice trailing off. 

Leon lets out a playful chuckle before continuing, “well… I’m starting to realize I could use an extra pair of hands to help fix it up.”

“You want me to ask around to see if anyone can help?” you say, crossing your arms, shifting your weight on one foot.

“I was actually hoping I could hire you.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and your mouth hangs slightly agape as you process his words. The door chime going off again snaps you out of your shock.

“Hold that thought,” you gesture your finger at Leon as you walk behind the cash register to help the customer that walked in, a stranger passing through getting gas.

Leon stands behind the customer but off to the side, waiting for them to leave so that you two could continue your conversation. You send the customer off on their way after they pay for gas, drawing your attention back to Leon.

“So… what would I be helping you with? I don’t know much about… building stuff,” you explain, feeling your cheeks turn red.

“Oh no, nothing like that. I’d have you help with painting, cleaning, maybe nailing stuff down. Easy stuff, I promise. And I’d be paying you.”

“How much?”

Leon shrugs his shoulders, “I was thinking… $10 an hour? I’d have you do Monday through Friday from 7:00am to 3:00pm, give or take.”

$10?! you think to yourself. 

That is way over what you’re making here, which is minimum wage, “I’ll do it. I’d have to put my notice in here first.”

Leon smiles, “think you can start next Monday?”

“Absolutely!”

Leon leans forward against the counter, reaching across to give one of your shoulders a pat, “excellent! See you on Monday then.”

Leon gives you a subtle wink, turning to walk out of the gas station. You watch as he gets on his motorcycle, jumping a bit when it roars to life, your eyes remaining locked on him as he drives off. You can’t believe your luck.

Pulling up to his home at the end of Hemlock Drive, Leon parks his motorcycle out front, climbing off it before heading inside. Immediately upon entering the front door, he lets himself finally relax, taking off his vest before he works on unbuttoning his shirt. He walks into the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror as he pulls his shirt off, revealing his chiseled chest. 

Before long, dark veins begin to sprawl across his body as he rubs the knots out of the back of his neck with one of his hands, his eyes closed as he lets out a low groan. He slowly opens his eyes, his ocean blue eyes now a brilliant red; they appear to glow in the low light of the bathroom. He snarls his lips at his reflection, revealing his sharp canine teeth that have descended, licking the points with his tongue before he steps back, admiring his physique in the mirror. All the while, something deep and primal within him, at the very core of his being, begins to nag him once more, something that wouldn’t stop since he first laid eyes on the cute girl that works nights at the gas station.

Breed.

In fact, he had gotten himself so worked up that night he met her while filling his motorcycle’s gas tank that he had to go out and hunt. Smirking in the mirror, he turns, walking out of the bathroom, approaching a door in the rear of the house that was padlocked shut. He pulls his keys from his pocket, unlocking the padlock and setting it aside on a small table before opening the door. It leads to the basement, the smell of blood immediately hitting his senses, driving his hunger wild. He descends the stairs slowly, flipping on a light at the bottom that turns on a single set of fluorescent lights.

Under the light, there is a support beam that a young man is tied to, bloody, battered and his neck covered in several bite marks, with duct tape wrapped around his mouth and eyes. The young man immediately hears Leon approach, struggling as much as his weak body can against his restraints. Leon stalks over to the young man, grasping him by his chin and squeezing tightly, smirking down at him. Today he learned this imbecile is the Oakvale’s chief of police’s only son. Just his luck. It was because of this moron hiking alone that Fish and Game had found the remnants of one of his other meals looking for this idiot. He could feel his frustration boiling within him, causing him to suddenly twist the young man’s head, snapping his neck instantly.

“Whoops.”

He didn’t mean to snap the poor kid’s neck, he was hoping to enjoy him for a few more days, now he has to enjoy as much as he can before his blood starts to go stale. Opening his mouth, his fangs and mouth latch onto the dead young man’s neck, growling as he begins to feed upon him. He gets his fill, unlatching himself from the young man’s lifeless form with a gasp, breathing heavily as blood runs from his lips, dripping down his chin onto his bare chest. The young man’s body slumps forward as Leon steps back. He’s going to have to get rid of him before his cute angel starts her new “job” on Monday.

Thinking of her, his eyes flutter shut, his right hand smearing the blood that had dripped down across his chest, bringing his hand to his lips to lick off the blood. Before getting himself too worked up again, he turns around, leaving the basement, shutting off the light as he ascends back up the stairs. He goes back into the bathroom, turning on the shower. As he waits for the water to warm up, he looks at himself again in the mirror. His pupils dilate upon seeing the blood on his skin. Turning away from the mirror, he removes what’s left of his clothing and steps into the shower to clean himself up, watching as blood runs down his naked body, the blood swirling on the shower floor before going down the drain. 

His mind wanders back to his cute angel, to that night he watched her from the window while she played with herself, his own blood rushing straight to his cock. Grasping himself with his right hand, he begins to stroke himself aggressively, chasing his orgasm as he pictured his cute angel lying beneath him, her undoubtedly beautiful cunt squeezing around him. It doesn’t take long for him to climax, ropes of cum shooting out and covering his hand; some of it managed to land on the shower wall. He takes a moment to rinse his hand off as well as wipe the cum off the shower wall before turning the shower off. 

Stepping out of the shower, he grabs a towel off the rack, wrapping it around his waist as he steps out of the bathroom and heads into the master bedroom. He lays down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he continues to think about his cute angel, excited about seeing her on Monday. He thought his plan was ingenious; getting her closer to him under the guise of a job. He knew luring her wouldn’t be difficult, she practically eye fucked him every time they saw each other. Still, he had to offer her pay that he knew she couldn’t refuse. Then, he could take his time courting her and before she even knows it, she’ll be his.

His Mate.

“Absolutely not,” your father says to you sternly the next morning at the table at breakfast.

“What do you mean, absolutely not? I already took the job, Dad, I’m putting in my notice tonight. He’s paying me $10 an hour! I couldn’t say no to that!”

“And have you in that house, alone with some guy we don’t even really know? I don’t think so.”

“Dad come on, he’s really nice…”

“We have plenty of retired guys in town that he could have asked.”

“Mick,” your mother tries to interject.

“For all we know, he could be some psychopath or something--”

“MICK! THAT’S ENOUGH!” your mother finally shouts at him, startling both of you.

You look over at your mother who is glaring at your father; the look on her face could have set him on fire. Your mother was always soft spoken and kind. It took a lot to get her angry, and you’ve never seen her this angry.

“In case you forgot, Mick, she is an adult. Besides, not only is that good money, that would be a good experience for her, too. Yes, we don’t really know Leon, but from the handful of times I’ve spoken to him, he seems fine. He used to work for the government for Christ’s sake. You can’t get more trustworthy than that.”

Your father lets out a loud sigh, his attention back on you, “fine… but at the first sign of trouble, you get the hell out of there, understood?”

“Of course,” you reply with a nod, taking a bite out of your breakfast, “I didn’t know he used to work for the government.”

“Heard it from one of the guys at Moe’s,” your father replies, “he was some kind of special ops agent, or something. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Maybe he can figure out what’s happening to all these hikers,” your mother suddenly says, “they still haven’t found Nate.”

“Poor kid, I hope he’s alright,” your father shakes his head, finishing up his breakfast and getting up from the table, “I’ll be in the garage, I’m going to get that car finished up today even if it kills me.”

You watch your father walk out of the dining room, the unmistakable sound of the door being whipped open and slamming shut following him. You and your mother finish breakfast in silence until your mother finally speaks up.

“He just wants what’s best for you. But, he needs to understand that you are a big girl now,” she lets out a sigh before continuing, “when I was your age, my father wouldn’t let me think or do anything for myself. I’m not letting that happen to you.”

You give your mother a smile, “thanks, Mom.”

Before you know it, Monday rolls around and you’re up bright and early. You were the epitome of a bundle of nerves, getting yourself ready and prettied up to ensure that not only you get there on time, but that you were presentable. 

Might as well give him something nice to look at while working, right?

It’s about a ten minute drive to Mr. Mason’s-- Leon’s house, so you make sure you’re out the door by quarter of eight to give yourself plenty of time to get there. Getting in your Chevette, you back out of the driveway and make your way there. Hemlock Drive is just on the outskirts of town, the entryway actually not too far from the gas station you had been working at. At the very end, you see it, an old ranch style home with a farmer’s porch; you guess it was probably built in the 30s. How many times had you come down here with your school friends and knocked on that front door, only to bolt when Mr. Mason came rushing out, red faced and furious as he chased the kids away. You immediately spot Leon’s motorcycle parked in the front. Over on the side of the house you see another vehicle parked: a black Jeep Wrangler with its unmistakable square headlights.

You park your car, turning off the engine to pull your keys out of the ignition, throwing them into your purse before you climb out of your car. You look down at your watch; it’s five of eight, early like you had intended. You approach the house, climbing the small set of steps, your heart pounding in your chest. You stand in front of the door, raising your trembling hand and give it a few knocks. You can hear movement inside the house and before you have time to collect yourself, Leon opens the door and you almost gasp. He’s shirtless and you can’t help but admire his built form. You force your eyes up to his, his ocean blues looking back at you as he smiles at you. 

“Good morning, sweetheart! Ready to get to work?”

Part 3

[jammyhunnyart]

My blorbos.

This is just an edit I thought of after I realized that both Dion and Raz had to grow up quicker but for different reasons. Dion being the oldest of his siblings and having more responsibilities and Raz who ran away into a potentially dangerous world and ended up getting a job where he wasn’t well received.

[justsillymilo]

Hellenic Polytheism 101

Tips on How To Start Worshipping the Greek Gods!

!Disclaimer! I’ve only started practicing Hellenic polytheism a few months ago! I’m not a professional and while I will try my hardest I’m not gonna get everything right

To many, starting to worship the Greek gods can be daunting. You’ve probably heard a lot about them and maybe don’t know where to start—but never fear—your helpol big brother is here to help you!

Today, I’m going to go over what Hellenic polytheism is, well-known gods, common misconceptions, and some helpful tips! 

Before that though, I just want to reiterate that I am not a professional and have only started this journey a few months ago. It’s important to fact-check any information you receive to make sure it’s correct, even if it’s from a credible source. 

Alright, let’s start with what Hellenic Polytheism even is! To put it simply, Hellenic Polytheism refers to the religous practice of honoring the gods of ancient Greece. This religion has existed for a very long time but because of the introduction of Christianity the religion is not as big as it was before in ancient Greece. Though, in recent years, the religion has gained popularity and is steadily growing! 

Well-known gods: 

There are many gods in this religion including The Twelve Olympians, divinities and spirits of nature, underworld deities, and heroes. To keep this simple, I’m just going to talk about some of the 12 Olympians. 

The first and probably one of the most well-known gods is Zeus, the sky and thunder god and king of the gods on Mount Olympus-where he and the other 12 Olympians live.  

Apollo is the son of Zeus and Leto and the Greek god of the sun, light, prophecy, music, dance, plague, healing, poetry, archery, and much more. He is also the twin brother of Artemis the goddess of the hunt and the moon. He is often depicted beardless and often holding a lyre

Aphrodite is the goddess of love, beauty, passion, and more! She is often associated with lust and fertility. In some myths, she is considered the daughter of Zeus and Dione. However, in other versions, she is said to have been born from seafoam, emerging fully formed from the sea. Her son Eros, the god of love, is a significant figure in many myths.

Hermes is the god of travel, herd, luck, speed, trade, and more! He is the son of Zeus and the Pleiad Maia. Hermes is also known to be the messenger god and quite mischievous 

Artemis, the twin sister of Apollo and the daughter of Zeus and Leto, is the goddess of the hunt, wild animals, nature, chastity, vegetation, childbirth, and the moon! She is often depicted with a bow and arrow and accompanied by an animal (usually a deer or sometimes hunting dogs) by her side. As one of the three virgin goddesses Artmis took a vow of chasity. Additionally, she is also the protector of childbirth of young children,  

Hera is the revered queen of the gods and the wife of Zeus. She is the goddess of family, marriage, childbirth and women. Known for her jealousy and vengeance, especially towards Zeus and his many lovers and their offspring. Her children are Ares, Hephaestus, and Hebe. Eileithyia is also sometimes considered to be one of Hera’s children. 

There are more Olympians but to keep this post short-ish I’m going to stop here. But I encourage you to do some independent research and look more into the gods! 

Common Misconceptions 

There are a lot of misconceptions about Hellenic Polytheism so I’m just going to go over some of them and clear things up! 

Myths:Myths are very misunderstood in the helpol community particularly when taken literally. The myths-crafted by ancient men, were never meant to be taken literally. We value myths because it’s a way to see how the gods were veiwed back then and worshipped. They’re also just fun to read! Think of it like fanfiction (if you’re into that sorta thing): you wouldn’t start hating a character in a show just because of how they were written in a fanfiction, that would be irrational. The myths are simply stories about the gods created by men of the past. The gods are not their myths!

Candle Divination: Candle divination is a form of divination that interprets a flame and it’s movements to communate and understand messages from the gods. But, this form of diviniation is unreliable and you will give you false signs and readings. It’s best to not use this method and stick to more reliable ones like, tarot, dice or oracle. I’ll talk more about divination and different methods in another post!

No sins: In Hellenic Polytheism the concept of sins actually doesn’t exist. While there are things you can do to offend the gods, a sincere apology should be enough for forgiveness-just don’t repeat the mistake again. The gods will not be angry if you can’t make an offering everyday, they will not be angry if you can’t talk to them everyday, they will not be angry if you make a mistake. The gods know that you are only a mortal and mortals make mistakes. So don’t sweat it

General Tips

First, if you are in a situation where you can’t make a physical altar, I recommend using a box, like a shoe box. You can add your offerings in this box and anything else you think the god you’re worshiping would like! Remember, you don’t have to make an altar if you don’t want to, alters are not requirements, just useful tools to have! Don’t feel pressured to make one especially if you’re unable to! The gods won’t be mad

Dive into plenty of books! Books offer a lot of useful information about the gods and are just a nice thing to invest in. I recommend reading Mythology by Edith Hamilton-It’s a great book that provides really fascinating and interesting information about the gods and their myths! 

If you’re unable to make an altar there are other ways to make offerings to the gods. One of these ways is devotional acts. For example, if you wanted to do a devotional act to, lets say Apollo, you could decide to practice singing for 30 minutes a day and dedicate it to Apollo. You could practice using songs about Apollo or just think of him while practicing! If you wanted to do a devotional act for Aphrodite you could dedicate a day to self-care and think about her while doing it! I’m sure you get the picture! 

Just saying good morning and goodnight to the god/dess you’re worshiping is a great way to connect with them. And thanking them if you see something associated to them is great as well. For example, if you were at the beach you could thank Poseiden for the beautiful waves, or if you were going for a walk you could thank Artemis for the beautiful nature you see. Just taking a little time out of your day to connect with the gods will go a long way when trying to build a relationship with them 

If your only goal in building a relationship with the gods is to ask for stuff, don’t even bother. When forming a relationship with the gods, it should not be driven by self-interest; the relationship should be mutually beneficial, a concept known as kharis in Hellenic polytheism (I’ll discuss this term in a future post). Remember the gods are not obligated to grant you anything if they don’t want to. While the relationship should be beneficial for both you and the deity, it’s not a transactional exchange. 

Your relationship with the gods may be different from someone else's, and that's perfectly okay! Just as your relationship with one friend group might differ from another, the gods are complex, and what works for one person may not work for you. It’s important to establish your boundaries with whichever deity you’re working with, just as you would in any other relationship!

I hope you found this helpful and that it gave you the confidence and information you need to start a relationship with the gods. Remember to be respectful, but remember to relax and enjoy the journey. The gods might seem a bit intimidating, but they are kind and will appreciate any new worshiper! Good luck on your journey

Xoxo Milo

[cryptictongues]

Dawns in Dalimil

pairing: Joshua Rosfield x Fem!Reader rating: Mature word count: 1.7k summary: You and Joshua have a sweet moment post-coitus.

warnings: Mentions of sex and the sweetest fluff EVER!!

Spoilers: There are a few mentions of things that if you aren't in a certain point in the game, you won't understand what I'm talking about. But just to clear things just in case, this takes place when Dalimil is first introduced.

Author's Notes: Just a heads up, please read my pinned post before following me! Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked as this blog's content is NSFW.

[AO3 link]

It’s late in Dalimil, so much so that the market outside the inn is dead silent and the ale house downstairs doesn’t have a whisper. The place is taking its rest, taking everyone with it before the dawn breaks… well except for the two of you.

With heavy breaths, heaving chests, and sweat shining on your bodies, you and Joshua lie in a small bed within a room from the Dalimil Inn recovering from the passionate love-making you both endured. Your trip to Dalimil was supposed to be short-lived as you both are trying to make it north to the Isles of Ark to meet with Prince Dion. However, the tension between the two of you had finally come to its breaking point and the most passionate, intimate sex you have ever had began and lasted until the dead of night. 

The bed creaks as Joshua moves to his side and you feel him get close to you, a hand placing itself under your left breast and lips making homage against your neck. He massages the subtle skin as he gives feather light kisses, causing you to giggle as a shiver runs down your spine. He bites down gently on the skin below your ear, causing a small yelp to leave your lips. “You are insatiable, you know that?” You breathe out, and he lets out a low chuckle into your ear. “You do this to me.” He bites down a little harder this time around, sucking and licking the spot to get another sweet sound out of you. You push him away slightly, laughing as he tries to keep his head in between your neck. “I need a break, Joshua. We’ve been at it nonstop for hours.”

He grabs the hand pushing against his chest, smirking at your struggle to get it out of his grasp. “You didn’t give me a break when I oh so kindly asked for one.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing your fingertips as he gauges your reaction. You scoff and sit up slightly. “Hey I gave you a cool down, and besides I did all the work that time. Give me some credit.”

Joshua shakes his head in amusement, propping himself up so his head was in his hand as his hand keeps hold of yours. “I hope you did enjoy yourself. I surely did.”

You grin, amused at his current demeanor. “Oh I most certainly did. To be honest, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

He grins as well, mischief appearing. “Didn’t have it in me to do what? To make you say my name like a prayer?” You smack his arm, a small oof leaving his lips. “You know what I mean.” You look down to his chest, focusing on the purple glow coming from it. “... but that too I suppose.” 

“If it’s any consolation, I was very nervous.” You cast your eyes back at him, shock strung on your face. His eyes focus on you, the softness of his gaze making your heartbeat just a tad faster. “All I want is to love you properly, and it is my duty to ensure that you receive that love in full. If I couldn’t love you in moments of intimacy, I think I’d go mad.” 

His nervous admission was precious, and it made you happy. Joshua and you have been close for so long, and to know he had felt just as nervous soothes you. You bring your hands to his forehead, brushing the strands of sweaty hair away. You then cup his cheeks and bring his head down for a gentle kiss. Leaning your head against his forehead, you let your hands travel to the beautiful hair at the nape of his neck. “I promise you I have never felt so loved in my life.” You place another kiss on his lips. “Only you can love me in the way that I need.” You kiss the apples of his cheeks. “You could never disappoint me, especially when the love I receive comes from you.” You then kiss right under his ear lobe and speak in a whisper. “And if it's any consolation, I didn’t sense your nervousness. You exude confidence.” You snicker a little bit, causing Joshua to pull away to look at you. “Especially since you tried to basically fold me in half.”

Joshua groans, and throws half his body on you, head hiding into your neck and an arm around your torso. You throw your head back into the pillow, laughing fully with your chest. Joshua lightly smacks your backside, more as a signal to quiet down as to not wake anyone rather than in embarrassment. You start wheezing as you try to calm down, the memory of Joshua trying to push your legs back against your body making it hard to. It had caused you to curse out, a muscle pulled in your thigh and him apologizing profusely as he massaged it back to good health. Looking back, you know it would be a silly memory you both could laugh at.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to.” Joshua says, his voice muffled as he buries his face deeper. “I admit I got carried away.”

You chuckle. “I know I’m flexible, just not THAT flexible.” 

You feel him vibrate as his muffled laugh travels before he sits back up into his last position, only letting his hand go to the marks he had left on your neck and chest. He traces them, circling his fingertip on each hickey he had brought to light. “Maybe I really did get carried away…” You can barely hear him, his voice almost nonexistent as he mutters. “Do they hurt?”

You are taken aback, a little surprised he would even ask that given that he had a few hickeys on his neck as well and scratch marks that run along his back. Your silence convinces him and he places his hand over the mark above your collarbone, an orange glow lighting around his hand. It takes you a minute before you smack his hand away, shaking your head vigorously. “Don’t you dare try and remove the marks you blessed me with. Do you not like seeing them?”

“No, of course not.” Joshua says quickly, hand still in the air after you’d smacked it away. “I apologize for my hastiness.”  

You take his hand, kissing the back of it before putting his palm against your face. “I’m in no pain, I can assure you.” Your other hand goes to trace the purplish pink blemishes on his neck, copying his earlier movements. “Would you want to get rid of yours?”

“Absolutely not.” He speaks immediately, a shiver running down his spine as you push on one of his hickeys, the ache feeling more like bliss. You hum, engaging in his reaction. You love how sensitive he is; every touch and stroke upon his body makes him squirm in your hold. It is endearing, as well as mesmerizing. 

“If you keep touching me like that, you won’t be getting that break.” Joshua breathes out, both enjoying your touches and cursing you for the hold you have on him; his will being shaped by your gestures.

You feign innocence, acting like what he said didn’t have an effect on you. You continue touching his chest as the hand still holding onto his lets go to grip on his waist, squeezing his skin causing him to jolt with a gasp. “Hey!” 

You laugh and continue to do it, making him laugh hysterically as you tickle him. He tries grabbing for your hand, but your previously occupied hand on his chest grabs his hands, holding onto both of them as you continue your attack. He releases grunts and is moving his body frantically to try and get away. Next thing you both know, he is on the floor.

“Oh Founder! Are you okay?” You panic, climbing off the bed to see the damage you caused. 

With a sigh, Joshua smiles. “I’m alive, even after your attempt to murder me.”

“I would do no such thing!” You huff before pulling him up. You both are, once again, laying back down on the bed flat on your backs. The sleepiness is starting to set in and you can feel your eyes start to shut, when all of a sudden you feel hot air hitting your ear. You turn your head, eyes fully shut. “What?”

“Lie closer to me.” 

“Our shoulders are literally touching.” You say, sleep seeping into your words.

Joshua groans. “You know what I mean. Let me hold you.”

Without a peep from you, Joshua rolls you to your side so you face him and brings you into his arms. He squeezes you to him, cradling your head in one arm and the other pushing your body into his. You groan, the heat from his body heating yours to almost unbearable lengths. “You’re too hot.”

He chuckles. “I don’t care. You are going to let me embrace you after the number you did on me.”

“I didn’t mean to push you off the bed.” You whine, kicking your feet against his legs to get back at him for his attitude.

He chuckles and reaches down to your butt, giving it a light squeeze.“I was talking about our love making but that’s a good excuse too.”

“Can I adjust at least?” You ask, already starting to shift. Joshua hums and lays on his back, letting you scoot into side. Arm around his torso and the other held close to your chest, you lay your head down against his chest. His heartbeat is steady; a calming rhythm that’s lulling you to sleep.

Joshua watches as you slip away, sweet hums vibrating from your chest as you sleep. All he can think is how pretty you look in your sleep, especially with your messy post-sex hair and slightly swollen lips. He could watch you sleep forever, but sleep was starting to take hold of him as well. He kisses your forehead, whispering a goodnight before he enters dreamland.

And you both sleep soundly as signs of life start to pick up outside; with shops getting ready for the day and the hustle and bustle of people taking the streets of Dalimil. 

[story-weavr]

A Hidden Story

Notes:

Inspired by The Bot Who Went Through Time by Commoncoral

This can be read as just TFA or a mixed universe.

The Autobots led by Optimus Prime were in a covert Autobot lab where experimentation for an energy source was underway. Due to the dangerous nature of the experiment, a secluded and hidden location was chosen for a lab.

Unfortunately, the Decepticons found the lab and attacked!

During the battle, an explosion occurred.

Waking up, Optimus Prime found himself on a Cybertron of the past. Unfortunately, he was smack-dab in the territory of Tarn. The most dangerous city-state on Cybertron, where crime, corruption, & brutality go hand-in-hand.

Knowing the danger he was in as well as the risks, Optimus opted to disguise himself with a new body and identity: Convoy.

He quickly found work where no one really cared who you were: Mining.

Luckily, he quickly made friends with another miner, Dion. He showed the young Convoy the ropes, and the two quickly became inseparable.

One day, a cave-in occurred. Convoy, furious at the foremen’s disregard for the trapped miners, immediately started the rescue effort. He, Dion, & others managed to save them.

The group was punished with cut pay and overtime for the resulting effect on production. Convoy, for leading it, was put on half-rations.

Later, at his hut in one of the miner camp-towns just outside the Tarn mines, Convoy received visitors. All but one were the mechs his actions saved.

Terminus, unfortunately, could not come with the others due to his damaged legs. Instead, he sent his son, Kilotron.

Kilotron was a gentle and noble soul within an intimidating frame. The mech was often visited by those who wanted him to work as a thug or a gladiator.

But Kilo was uninterested; he wouldn’t risk dying or killing.

After becoming closer with Kilo, Convoy later learned the young miner’s dream: to become a writer. One who could help, not just Tarn, but all of Cybertron to become better.

Something his grandmother, a Tarnian politician, failed to do. This resulted in her becoming a mining prisoner, and her son born in mining.

Over a short period of time, Convoy and Kiltron’s feelings became that of love. At first, Convoy tried to keep it platonic. But he started to lose hope that he’d ever return to his time.

One day, another cave-in occurred. This time, Convoy and Kiltron were trapped alone.

When they dug themselves out, something terrible greeted them. Among the casualties, Dion and Terminus had passed.

Convoy knew then: he or Kilo could die at any time.

That day, Convoy and Kilotron moved in together. In mining culture, they were now Conjux.

Time passed. Kilo moved up the miners’ informal ranks becoming a Head for a large team. Convoy had been reassigned to logistics and was now expecting their first sparkling. The two had become respected figures in their camp-town. They often met with other leaders to better organize the mine work and supply distribution.

One day, however, something terrible happened. The city-state of Vos, eternal arch-rival of Tarn, sent a squadron of bombers to various mining sites on the outskirts of Tarn. The plan was to take the mines for Vos by hitting the headquarters that were always a fair distance from the valuable mines themselves.

Unfortunately, Convoy and Kilo’s camp-town was right next to one of the targets.

Kilotron was still deep in the mines with his team. Convoy was surrounded by flames and panicking miners and civilians. He helped as many as he could escape.

Unfortunately, he himself became trapped. All hope seemed lost.

Then a portal appeared in front of him. Ironhide screamed Optimus’s name. Desperate, Optimus Prime ran through the flames and passed through.

Back in an Autobot lab, surrounded by old familiar faces, Optimus screamed in Ratchet’s familiar arms.

His Conjux was gone. Possibly dead in the attack. If not, he would die by the mines, Tarn’s corruption, the Vos’s attacks, by the Decepticon-Autobot war.

But worse than that, if Kilotron did survive, he’d be completely alone.

And the only thing Optimus had left of his beloved… was the sparkling he carried. The sparkling he would name Windblade.

When Kilotron finally came out of the mines, all he wanted to do was go straight back to Convoy and their unborn sparkling.

When he got out however, he was greeted by a group of miners led by one of the other camp leaders.

What he said caused Kilo to drop his tools and take off running. He ran, and ran, and ran.

Until finally he reached the hill that overlooked his home.

Where a dilapidated but lively camp-town once was, there was only smoking ruin and the smell of ash.

Kilotron let out a ROAR. One of grief… and rage!

That day, Kilotron… the miner… the writer… the mech with a family…

Was dead.

A short time later, Tarn’s infamous gladiator circle was shaken by the criminal lord Cryotek’s newest talent!

Megatronus!

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Nineteen)

Hello! Hope you're all well and having a good week. @greeneyedivy and I have been super excited about this chapter since...well, since the beginning of Fireleaf really. We're so excited to finally be posting it!

We hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for all the lovely support!

Warnings: Smut. 😏🌶️

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

For the following three weeks, keeping busy was Lucien’s sanity.

While Tamlin had his people covertly keeping an eye on the Autumn Court, on Beron’s movements, Lucien was researching until his eyes felt like they were bleeding. Reading the old laws of Prythian.

Three weeks. Three weeks had passed without him seeing Y/N. Almost three. He’d ticked every day off with an ache in his heart. It hurt more ferociously than anything he’d ever felt before, but he would face it, endure it; make sure it was worth it in the end.

That didn’t stop him thinking constantly about her, though. Which he was doing, right now, whilst he was supposed to be studying the book in front of him.

He rubbed at the ache that was building between his eyes and loosely tied his hair back. It had been early morning when he’d carried the pile of books into Tamlin’s office and began reading. Hours had passed since — it must have been noon, by now, at the very least. He would grab a quick lunch and get right back to his reading.

It was as he stood and opened the door that voices floated up to him. He frowned to himself — beyond the Spring Court staff and sentries he saw coming and going, it was relatively quiet here. Any High Lord business tended to take Tamlin into the villages rather than him receiving an audience here.

But it was a lilting male voice that was lingering with Tamlin’s, and — Lucien realised, as he descended the staircase — a familiar one at that. He stopped in the doorway of the dining room, taking in the sight of Tamlin engaging in conversation with Eris.

Eris looked up upon Lucien’s arrival, his hand naturally rested on the hilt of his sword. He looked…different, somehow. Older. Stronger.

“Brother.” He dipped his head at Lucien. “You look positively awful.”

Lucien pursed his lips, anxiety roiling in his gut. What would bring his brother here, besides bad news? He studied him, looking for some indication that something had happened.

“What are you doing here, Eris?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“I was waiting for your return so I could tell you what I discovered.” The oldest Vanserra said. “But it would seem you’ve taken to wallowing.”

Lucien supposed he couldn’t blame him for thinking that. He looked a mess, with his crumpled, unbuttoned white shirt and loose trousers. But that was because his self-care had taken a backseat whilst he’d thrown himself, morning and night, into whatever research and work he could find to…to fix this. Of course he didn’t look his best.

“So I’ve come, instead, to give you a brotherly pep talk.” Eris finished.

“Eris—”

“Hear me loud and clear, Lucien.” Eris stepped forward — and rather comically tightened his grip on his sword. “I know everything. Dion told me. And running away is not the answer. Quit your damn wallowing and get back home.”

“You don’t understand—”

“No, I don’t think you understand. You are the only person who can fight for the female that you love. What good is it going to do, holing yourself up in another court? She needs you. And you need her—”

“Eris, will you shut up for five fucking seconds?”

Eris faltered, cocking an eyebrow. From across the table, Tamlin watched. “So he does still have some fight in him.”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “That’s why I came here, you ass. Not to wallow. To figure out how to fix all of this. Tamlin and I have been working together.”

Eris went still, studying his brother. Within seconds, his stance relaxed. “…Oh. Right.” He cleared his throat. “Well…good.”

Across the table, Tamlin seemed to be stifling a laugh. Eris shot him a look, lowering himself into a chair.

Lucien, though, remained standing, his hands nervously clenching at his sides. “You said you discovered something?”

Eris nodded. “I did. Well — two somethings, actually.”

Tamlin rose from his chair, hastily grabbing for a decanter of whiskey and three glasses. He placed them on the table, watching as Eris dug into the inside of his jacket and produced a small pile of envelopes.

“First of all,” he said, chucking them onto the table, “Y/N’s friend Linden? He’s been writing to her since she first came to the estate. Father has been intercepting those letters and hiding them from her. Allowing her to think he hasn’t bothered to be in contact. These are the copies I made.”

Lucien frowned, reaching out and grabbing the envelopes. “For what reason? Besides being a cruel bastard.”

“Because — as you’ll discover from reading them — Linden had information that he wanted to tell Y/N that could have compromised father.”

Tamlin kept an eye on Lucien as he repeated, “information?”

Eris nodded. “The entire thing…the engagement between Dion and Y/N…was all cleverly calculated. Even though Dion did nominate Y/N’s name himself, he would have found himself engaged to her anyway — because it was all part of a deal between Y/N’s father and ours.”

Lucien was hardly listening, his nose buried in the letters. His stomach churned with every word he drank in, every bit of information that took root in his brain. Letter after letter, he read and chucked onto the table, his expression hardening, hands shaking.

“What would Beron be getting out of a deal with Y/N’s father?” Tamlin asked.

And it was Lucien who answered. Lucien, whose voice was so cuttingly cold as he bit out, “Faebane.”

Eris nodded in confirmation. “Y/N’s family’s business had been going under for a while because her father gambled away pretty much everything they had. His reputation — their family’s reputation — was at risk of being destroyed as thoroughly as their fortune. And so to bring some money back in, Y/N’s father began dealing in prohibited chemicals and substances such as Faebane. Our father got wind of it, and instead of putting a stop to it, he saw a way to use it to his advantage. Together, they cooked up an agreement — Y/N’s father would provide ours with any of these substances that he desired, free of charge, so long as their reputation was kept intact. Part of that deal was getting Y/N away from their family estate, because her father knew she would intervene if she heard of what he was doing. Which was how they agreed on her being sent to our estate to marry Dion.”

“And Linden somehow found out.” Lucien murmured, staring into space. “Which was probably why he got sent away. Going by these letters, he wanted to meet with Y/N and warn her.”

“But father put a stop to that.”

Lucien swallowed. “Does Y/N…have you told her? About her father?”

Eris shook his head. “Not yet. I wanted to track Linden down first. Speak to him and find out everything he knows. This…this is going to be hard for her.”

Yes, it was. Lucien’s eyes shuttered, his throat bobbing as he tried to swallow. He swiped out, pouring a measure of whiskey and knocking it back. Both Tamlin and Eris watched him.

“How is she?” He rasped, as desperate for the answer as he was scared of it.

A look of concern passed Eris’s face. He gave a half-hearted shrug. “About as well as can be expected. She’s drowning in wedding preparations and is all the more miserable for it.”

Of course, it was the answer Lucien expected — and yet it didn’t make it any easier to hear. He slumped into a chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. He despised the thought of her being there…thinking he’d given up—

“It won’t be long, Lucien,” Tamlin said quietly. “You’ll be back with her soon. This—this information is good. This can be used against Beron.”

“I know. I know.” Lucien stared down. “I just…I miss her.”

“And she misses you.” Eris supplied. “As does mother. She keeps asking after you — asking what the hell is going on and when the hell you’ll be back.”

Fuck. Lucien hadn’t even considered what his dear, sweet mother must be thinking or feeling. What she must have made of Lucien disappearing without a single goodbye. He loved her dearly, hated keep things from her—

“Tell her.” He blurted, not sure he really meant to. “Tell her everything.”

His brother studied him. “You’re sure?”

“The more people we have on our side, the better.” He shrugged. “She may not be able to do much, but…we have a greater chance of protecting her from whatever’s coming if she knows everything that’s going on.”

Eris seemed to consider it for a moment, before he nodded resolutely. They loved their mother dearly — would spare her from being caught in the crossfire as well as they reasonably could.

“Then I shall.” Eris stood from his chair, tucking it in. He reached out, knocking back his measure of whiskey before brushing himself down. “I’ll return home and speak to mother. And then I’m going to find Linden. You…you shouldn’t wait to see Y/N, Lucien. She needs you.”

He’d barely taken a step forward before Lucien was gripping onto his arm. “Eris.” He stared up at him. “When you find Linden…bring him to the old orchard. Father won’t look for us there. And send for me immediately. I’ll find a way to see Y/N. And…thank you. For everything.”

A moment passed of the two brothers just staring at each other — a moment of solidarity and understanding.

And then Eris was dipping his chin and squeezing his brother’s hand.

And in a flash, he was gone.

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Quiet, uneventful days had become a rare commodity.

The subject of your wedding was a dull, monotonous entity that seemed to follow you around everywhere. Day in and day out was filled with some sort of preparation, some situation that you had to meet with a false smile. You were sick of being poked and prodded and pulled and pushed like a damn doll — and all when you just wanted to curl up and cry, too. When heartache was a splintering thing inside your chest that never lessened.

But today, at least, there was nothing in the calendar. Perhaps you’d be able to have a cry in peace.

You’d woken to a heavy silence, and it hadn’t taken you long to learn — through asking servants — that most people were gone from the estate for the time being. Beron and Barric away on business, Eris having left on his own. Dion had a particular set of errands to run, apparently, as an upcoming groom. Where Jareth and Rian were, you didn’t know nor care.

You were just relieved to drop the false smile for a bit. You curled yourself up in an armchair with a book that you knew you wouldn’t able to concentrate on.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there like that, watching shafts of sunlight cast across the lawn, when the door opened behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, taking in the brilliant, vibrant hair and skin like finest porcelain. Lady Autumn’s concerned eyes roved over you.

And just like that, you were slamming that smile back onto your lips, forcing the corners to lift up no matter how much they protested.

“I didn’t realise you hadn’t left with the High Lord.” You said.

She inclined her head. “He allowed me to stay — with the wedding being so near and details needing to be fine tuned. I thought you and I might spend the day together.”

You fought to keep your reluctance from showing from your face. It wasn’t that you didn’t like her, or even enjoy her company – on the contrary, you’d found her to be a pleasant companion over the past two weeks, someone who came alive when she wasn’t being watched and analysed. She was kind-hearted and soft…and a constant reminder of the future you were unable to escape.

She read the hesitation on your face, stepping further into the room. “I know life has been pretty constant recently, but…humour me. There’s…there’s somewhere I’d like to take you.”

Not, exactly, what you’d been expecting. Lady Autumn rarely said or did what was beyond expected of her. It was so out of the blue that it had a slither of intrigue snaking its way through the blur of negative emotions that so heavily weighed you down.

Perhaps…perhaps it was better for you to go with her. To do something, anything, to occupy yourself. Surely it had to be better than sitting and ruminating on what you couldn’t have.

You set your untouched book aside, rising from the chair. “Of course I’ll spend the day with you.”

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With a hamper packed with food, the two of you each took to a horse and rode away from the estate. It was like…like breathing for the first time in a long time.

You rode in companionable silence for a while, following in her direction. Only when the peaceful autumn landscapes began to shift and change did your curiosity pique. You knew Beron wasn’t due back to the estate for at least a couple of days, but…to travel so far away without his knowledge–

“Where are you taking me?” You asked, more worried about the consequences Lady Autumn would face than yourself. “Lady–”

“Please—call me Catrin. And you’ll see.”

Catrin. Was that the first time you’d ever heard her name? You couldn’t recall anyone ever having spoken it. The High Lord had pretty much given her a title and stripped her of any other identity.

You couldn’t bear the thought of a similar fate. No matter how worlds apart Dion was from his father in personality, in values…just knowing that others would simply see you as his wife, his lady…a lump rose in your throat. You tried to shake the thought away and focus on the journey ahead.

You’d lost track of how long you’d been riding by the time you came to the opening of a sprawling forest. The trees seemed to naturally part as though they’d been expecting you.

Catrin glanced over her shoulder at you. “We’ll dismount and continue on foot from here.”

With a nod, you followed her lead. You couldn’t help subtly studying her as you climbed down from your horse and rubbed at his neck soothingly. Away from Beron, even her hair seemed more vibrant. A slight pink dusted her cheeks, and her brown eyes seemed to beckon the sunlight towards them. She was beautiful, anyway, but…truly breathtaking, when she wasn’t being stifled.

 Retrieving the food hamper from her horse, she met your gaze and gestured to the forest opening. “This way.”

You hesitated. Beautiful as it was, the whole thing felt…bizarre. You didn’t know what or where this place was. Why she’d taken you here in particular. And lovely as she was, you knew how firmly she lived under Beron’s control; you couldn’t stop paranoid thoughts pelting you of this being some sort of trap. Of Beron having got his sweet, docile wife to lure you here to finally punish you somewhere where nobody could hear you scream–

“You needn’t fear me, Y/N.” Catrin said softly. “There’s something I want to show you. Something very few people know about. Especially my husband.”

The bite in her voice was enough to convince you of her honestly, at least. You took a step forward, towards those strange, shimmering trees that seemed to be listening to you. “Where are we?”

“The Otherlands.” Catrin told you; your sparse knowledge of Prythian had certainly never touched on that name. “It sits just outside the Autumn Court, but it’s governed by no one. Whatever takes place here…the High Lord has no jurisdiction over it. Nor does he have any interest in it.”

It was certainly beautiful – and empty. Quiet. A place where nature was allowed to thrive without the intrusions of manmade structures and smoke polluting the air. No wonder the trees looked different. The air smelled different.

“It’s stunning.” You answered earnestly. “But…why have you brought me here?”

“As I said — to show you something.”

Without sparing any more information, she turned on her feet and began to walk. You followed – and then stopped to blink. Your eyes hadn’t been deceiving you; those shimmering trees were truly parting to let you through. With every step forward, a path seemed to reveal itself before your very eyes. Rare, rare magic, like nothing you’d ever seen.

You’d lagged behind enough that you had to jog to catch up. You fell into step with Catrin, your wide eyes focused on every inch of smooth pathway that appeared out of nowhere. Catrin watched you with a smile.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” She said softly. “I never get tired of it, even after all this time.”

“I…what magic is this? Whose magic is this?”

A faraway look entered her eyes, though she didn’t falter a single step. As if she’d walked the hidden path a thousand times before and knew it by heart.

“The magic of somebody I love very much.” She answered quietly.

You watched her, waiting for more. A strange shadow had crossed her face that was so at odds with the landscape, it was almost frightening. Darkening.

There was no doubt in your mind that she absolutely was not talking about Beron.

“Do you…” You spoke. Swallowed down your words. You weren’t sure what to say. “Is he not alive?”

Catrin’s eyes danced over to you. “He is alive. Which makes it worse, somehow, don’t you think? For them to be there, and for you to still be unable to have them.”

Such true, painful words. They fit your situation so perfectly that you winced.

Catrin stopped, and the path forked before you. You followed her lead as she took a left, the trees parting and forming a perfect clearing. You stood at the edge as you watched her step in. She seemed to be taken somewhere else for a moment. Another time. A happier time.

But then she shook it off. Turned to you. “I brought you here to talk about Lucien.”

You felt stillness prickling over your body, your mind emptying of all thoughts. Nothing but bleating panic existed about you as you stared back at her.

You could see — in her face, you could see that she knew. How or why, you weren’t sure. But her eyes held the truth; your truth. She’d found you out.

You swallowed, still attempting to slam up your perfected facade. “Lady—Catrin…I’m afraid I don’t know why Lucien left—”

“You do.” She cut you off gently. “We both do.”

There was no anger evident on her face or in her voice; although, you couldn’t picture her parading such an emotion. She almost permanently wore that blank, vacant expression that you’d begun to master yourself these last few weeks.

Now, though, there was fire in her eyes.

“Lucien left because he loves you. And you love him.” She said.

Your eyes shuttered. “Listen—”

“Eris told me. Yesterday. Although…I suspected before then. I know what love looks like. I’ve seen how Lucien has come alive since you arrived.”

The words — those damn words — were torture. What good could they do you now? Love couldn’t prevail. It couldn’t solve everything. You could love Lucien for the rest of your existence, but that didn’t mean you could have him. And he could see as much himself; had left because of it.

“I’m marrying Dion.” You whispered, begging your voice not to crack. “I have no choice—”

“Listen to me, Y/N.”

Catrin stepped forward, her soft, gentle arms gently landing on your shoulders. Nothing but sincerity sat in her eyes as she stared at you.

“I brought you here,” she said. “Because I cannot see history repeat itself. I won’t. Not for my children.”

“What—”

“A very long time ago, I fell in love with a wonderful male. A kind male, who is good and noble and gentle. I would happily have spent my life with him, but only a year later, my family married me off to Beron. For their sakes — their social standing. They knew he wasn’t kind, and they knew I wasn’t happy, but that was not important to them. It was all about appearances. Reputation.”

Again, your eyes shuttered. Appearances. Reputation. Just like it was with your family. This alliance between your family and the Vanserras was simply about rebuilding what you’d lost. Your happiness didn’t come into it.

“I relented.” Catrin’s eyes stung with tears. “I was weak and not at all brave. I told myself that I had no choice. That it was my duty to be Beron Vanserra’s wife and bear his children, even though I loved another male so ferociously. So completely. Even though I always have. Those feelings do not go away. I spent twenty years without my love before I saw him again. He rescued me from harm, and it took one look at him to realise that I loved him just as much as I had two decades earlier.”

You wanted to slam your hands over your ears, to hide from her words. It wasn’t helpful to know that your feelings would always linger. It didn’t…it didn’t help.

And yet you did want to hear. You wanted to know how it had ended. How it might end for you.

“What happened?” You croaked.

“We began an affair. On and off for decades. This is where we would meet.” She gestured to the surroundings around you. “If Beron were to ride this way, he would see nothing but plain woodland. This was our place — mine and my love’s. His magic allowed us to be here together. Even if years went by of us not seeing each other, this was where we would come. On the other side of this clearing is a cottage — Dayview Cottage, he called it. It still stands today. And that is all I have left of him. When I was pregnant with Lucien, Beron found out about the affair. It stopped after that. We haven’t been together since.”

Such raw, visceral emotion coated her voice that you had to take a step back, to turn away. Because you knew that was what your own voice sounded like. You knew that you held the same look of utter turmoil and heartbreak in your eyes.

“Y/N,” Catrin whispered, “I don’t tell you this to hurt you. But the second Eris filled me in on what had been going on, I knew I had to speak to you. It got too late for me. I had children to think about — a family. I had duties that went beyond what I, myself, craved. Your only duty is to yourself. Do not make the same mistake I did. Do not give yourself regrets. Have the bravery and strength to fight what is expected of you. You cannot doom yourself, or Lucien or Dion or Willow, to a life of misery, because you’ve been told that you must.”

“It isn’t that simple.” You choked. “Beron—”

“Beron,” she cut in her, her voice uncharacteristically cold, “will be dealt with.”

Such confidence in such a weighty statement. You curled in on yourself, wiping at your eyes. Your entire body trembled.

“My children are the only thing I live for now, Y/N.” Her arm came around you. “And you…I consider you to be the daughter I never had. I see so much of my younger self in you. And I’m telling you what I wish I could tell the younger version of me. I will not see any of you resigned to the same fate that I was unable to escape.”

That was it. Your tether snapping, the dam breaking — you buried into your hands, and weeks and weeks of pent-up emotions came storming out in a pained, keening cry.

Catrin’s arms snaked around you, and you felt yourself slump against her, bringing you both to the forest floor. Somehow you ended up in her lap, her arms rocking you like a child while you sobbed and sobbed. For the male you loved more than you ever could have imagined. For the future you so wished you could have with him.

“It’s such a beautiful thing, Y/N, to love.” Catrin whispered, pressing a kiss atop of your head. “Grab it with both hands and don’t let go.”

She said nothing more as she held you. Nothing more as you cried until your throat was scratchy, your eyes raw.

But her words stuck with you, right where they’d slammed into your heart.

Grab it with both hands and don’t let go.

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The two of you shared the hamper of food, words laying heavy around you as she told you more of her younger self. Who she was before she became a Vanserra. The woods continued to shimmer and dance in your presence, and right before you left to find your horses, she led you to the other side of the clearing and showed you — Dayview Cottage.

It was beautiful, in a melancholy sort of way. The magic that belonged to the unnamed male she loved — the same magic that enchanted the trees and the forest floor — kept it nicely preserved and untouched, no matter how many years it watched pass by. But its emptiness was bleak and lifeless, and it left a similar look in Catrin’s eyes.

Just as the first signs of evening began to show, Catrin ushered you onto your horse with a simple “it’s gotten late. We need to leave.”

Your head ached as the two of you rode back, and your full, swimming mind made it feel like mere minutes before you began to recognise villages and landscapes. You knew your surroundings enough to recognise exactly where you were — a couple of miles from the hamlet that had been destroyed by the fire.

Catrin glanced at you somewhat knowingly, and it was the first time she spoke since you’d set off as she said, “There’s one more place you need to go. But I can’t come with you.”

You frowned back at her, the action in itself self causing a twinge of discomfort to ripple behind your eyes. “What?”

“I’m heading home. But there’s a gamekeeper’s cottage around here, I believe. One you might be familiar with. Somebody is waiting for you there.”

You stared at her, knowing exactly what she was inferring without saying the words. The gamekeeper’s cottage – where you and Lucien had headed after the hamlet fire. Where you’d first ever given over to passion and found release in each other’s bodies. It seemed so long ago now.

And he…he was waiting for you there? It had to be him…the significance of the place. 

Anxiety and anticipation and excitement hit you all at once. So, so desperately you wanted to see him; to see how he was doing after a few weeks in the Spring Court. To see…to see whether he missed you as much as you missed him.

But could it truly be that easy? Catrin’s words, her story, had certainly left a lasting effect on you, got you thinking. But thoughts of Beron, of Willow, of danger…they still plagued you. Still had you slamming that wall up and not allowing yourself to consider that you might have a different outcome than the one you’d been forcing yourself to accept.

“Why?” You rasped quietly. “Why is he there?”

Catrin studied you. “Because he needs you as much as you need him. This is hard for him, also. Don’t think for a second that fleeing to the Spring Court was easy for him, Y/N. He’d have come back far sooner if he had it his way. But he asked me to help you see each other; at least spare him a conversation.”

Of course you would. She didn’t need to convince you. Even if your body was taut as a bowstring and fear was in your eyes…even if you refused and began your journey home…you knew damn well that you would have turned back and ran straight to that gamekeeper’s cottage.

You wouldn’t leave him there alone, wondering if you were ever coming.

Catrin knew it, too.

“Go to him, Y/N.” She said, reaching out to press a gentle hand to your cheek. “Go to him, and let him speak.”

You’d thought you were all cried out, and yet as you nodded, tears welled in your eyes. There was nothing but a field that lay between you and that gamekeeper’s cottage. Nothing but a stretch of grass that lay between you and the male you loved. Missed. Wanted.

Catrin, herself, looked like she was on the verge of shedding a few tears. She plastered on a beautiful smile and straightened in the saddle. “Go,” she said. “And give my boy my love.”

Before you could thank her, she was digging her heels into her horse’s sides and taking off with a soft command. You watched as she rode into the distance, her red hair like a burning flame on the landscape.

And then it was just you and that stretch of field. The cottage that stood on the other side of it. The other half of your heart that waited within it.

You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Tried to calm your thudding heart. With chills spreading across your skin that had nothing to do with the fresh evening air, you guided your horse across the field.

Every travelled inch that brought you closer had your ears ringing, head spinning. And when you saw the cottage, slightly hidden amongst the trees, it was an effort to keep yourself atop of your horse.

You slowed to a stop, taking a moment to just…breathe. Every part of you shook as you dismounted and secured your horse to a tree, leaving it to graze the forest floor. There was no sound inside the cottage. No light that peeked out.

This cottage — this cottage that had been a harbinger of change; a painful one at the time. One that had set the wheels in motion for what was to come. Yours and Lucien’s own version of Dayview Cottage, you supposed.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do. Knock? Open the door and stride right in? Your hands twisted around each other, your mind ticking away at a pace you couldn’t keep up with—

But the door opened without any intervention from you. And there Lucien stood, the light of the cottage fire seeming to offset a glow around him as his eyes met yours, and he swallowed.

He was…glorious. Breathtaking. You didn’t have any words, try as you might to muster some.

He swallowed again before his lips parted, his eyes scanning your face.

“…Hi…” was all he said. But he could have spoken any damn word in the common tongue. It wouldn’t have mattered.

It was his deep, lilting voice that destroyed your resolve. Before you knew what you were doing, your body was colliding with his, your arms snaking around his waist. A cry tore from your throat.

He wrapped himself around you immediately. And pulled you into the cottage.

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You didn’t know how long the two of you stood in the entryway, silently holding each other. Long enough to shed more tears and soak the front of Lucien’s shirt.

But once your cries had drifted into just the occasional snivel, he pulled back to stare at you. His hands brushed the wet strands of hair that stuck to your cheek.

“You’re okay?” He murmured, and his voice threatened to end you all over again.

You could only nod, your voice not quite strong enough, yet, not to break.

He’d placed a kiss against your forehead before pulling away, murmuring about preparing you both a warm drink. Which left you to drift around the space in silence, rebuilding your composure, your strength. You kept a little bit of a wall in place, not knowing what the hell to expect. Lucien’s pottering around the kitchen was a soothing background noise as you studied the random assortment of things around you.

And then, so naturally at the same time — as if your bodies mirrored one another’s — you were turning to each other. Lucien studied you, two mugs in his hands.

“You look well.” You croaked, your eyes drinking him in. 

His lips twitched, and he placed the mugs down on the small dining table. “You don’t need to lie. I look like a mess.”

A soft laugh left your throat. You glanced down, rubbing your arms, giving your hands something — anything — to do. “As do I.”

Silence filled the space between you. And then slow, thudding footsteps approached. “You could never look like a mess.”

So, so not true. You were aware of your sallow skin, the dark smudges beneath your eyes. That you’d lost a little weight. And yet you also knew that Lucien spoke with such sincerity. He meant it, even if you didn’t believe it yourself.

Your eyes remained on the scuffs of your boots as he continued to approach. He stopped a hair's-breadth away, close enough for his scent to smother you. Your eyes shuttered as you breathed it in greedily.

“Y/N.” He whispered, his voice skittering over your skin. “Look at me.”

You weren’t sure you could. Your hands gripped your arms hard, the nails digging into your skin. It took you a moment to steel yourself enough to reopen your eyes and lift them to Lucien’s face. Nothing — nothing — could have prepared you for the emotion that lay there.

Love. Pure love, and adoration. Heartache. Despair. Somehow, you read it all. Somehow, you knew you looked the same.

The volume of the emotions threatened to bowl you over. You took a step back, clearing your throat. “Why—why did you want to meet?”

Lucien stared at you, pursing his lips. Because to question why he would want to see you was so ludicrous to him. But he followed your lead, straightening himself up a little.

“To talk to you.” He said. “To ask you — beg, if I have to — not to marry Dion.”

You swallowed. “Lucien—”

“Please just hear me out.”

You stared at him, every self-preserving instinct screaming at you to push past him and run the hell out of there. Because Catrin’s story, her words — hard-hitting as they were — didn’t change that it wasn’t as simple as just not marrying Dion. They didn’t change that there was danger involved. Real danger. Lives at risk.

But Lucien’s eyes were pleading. And you relented, relaxing your stance enough to show him that you were open, at least, to hearing what he had to say.

A moment passed of nothing. You wondered if he might not speak at all. But as you met his eyes in question, you found tears there. Found that he was struggling to speak around his emotion.

“Lucien…” you sighed softly. You reached for him, your hand lingering in the air. Would it make it worse to touch him?

His eyes shuttered, tears spilling down his cheeks. And then he was stepping towards you, cupping your face in his broad, warm hands. Tilting it up to look at him.

“Listen to me. Please.” His voice shook. So did his hands. “I am in love with you. So…so in love. I didn’t know it was possible to love anyone or anything this much. I didn’t know I was capable.”

You blinked away your own tears. “You said you were done fighting for me. I don’t blame you for that.”

“I said that to make it easier to turn around and walk out. But I went to the Spring Court to ask for Tamlin’s help. To find a way for this to work — for us to be together.”

Hope threatened to bloom inside you. You shoved it back down; couldn’t let it take root. Not for it just to be yanked out again.

“It isn’t that easy.” You whispered.

“Of course it isn’t.” His rough, calloused thumbs stroked your cheeks. “It’s love. But I will never stop fighting for you. Never.”

“Lucien—”

“Please, Y/N.” He stared down at you. “I need you to trust me.”

You placed your hands over his, brushing your thumbs over his knuckles. “I do trust you. With my entire soul.”

“Then please, my fireling, hear me when I say that there’s a way out of this, I just— I need you to choose me.” His eyes held something so familiar and yet so unknown to you — a glint of gold in a sea of russet. “I’m already yours. So claim me.”

You broke.

There was no staying strong beneath the weight of those words. Those emotions. You couldn’t.

You reached up, taking a strand of his hair in your palm.

His breath stalled.

You parted the strands of hair, keeping your eyes fixed on the pattern, as you began to twine them together. To braid them.

“What’re you doing?” He whispered, as if afraid that you’d stop if he spoke too loudly.

“Giving you a braid.” You answered and fastened the braid.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed — hard.

“There. You’re mine now.” Your eyes met his russet ones. “I’m in love with—”

Your words cut off as you felt it.

A resounding, earth-shattering snap, deep in your heart, in your soul.

It was like the sun breaking through clouds. Like warmth encasing you. It spread over your body, over Lucien’s, like golden rays of sunlight combining you as one. Twining your souls together. And as if those rays could speak, could whisper to you, you heard it. One word. One word that changed everything.

Mate.

You blinked up at him, so many words in your mind, your throat, on your tongue. So many things you wanted to say, and yet none would come to the surface. The world was shifting, altering your body to fit like a perfect puzzle piece with his. Your mate.

“You knew.”

“Y/N—”

A cry tumbled from your lips, and you were once more throwing yourself at Lucien, wrapping your arms around him. But it was different this time.

It was…it was you giving up the fight. It was you refusing to fight your feelings any longer. No matter what it may mean. No matter what it might bring to your doorstep. You couldn’t fight off your love any longer.

Lucien’s arms came around you, pressing you so close against him that it lifted your feet slightly from the floor. He held you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head. “Y/N—”

“I love you.” You choked, cutting him off. “I fucking love you, Lucien.”

He went so, so still. You’d only ever said it once, sobbing into his chest. He didn’t even know if you were aware of it. But this — you said the words with such utter conviction he knew his mind couldn’t have conjured up the emotion in your voice.

And then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. There was fire in his own.

“Say it again.” He said roughly. “Please.”

“I love you.”

You surged up on the tips of your toes, capturing Lucien in a hard, bruising kiss.

He seemed to just blink for a moment, as though he couldn’t quite keep up. And then he was folding, breathing a cry against your lips, like they’d brought him home.

Mate. Of course he was your mate. You should have damn well known. You’d never been able to stay away from him, never been able to fight the intrigue. Even when he’d been rude and standoffish and arrogant, you’d wanted more, more, more. You’d wanted Lucien Vanserra entirely.

You wanted — needed — him now.

Your kiss was hard, desperate. It was with the force of your feelings, your bond, that you urged him backwards, back and back until you were at the bed. His legs hit the edge of the mattress, and he toppled down, dragging you with him.

You tore your lips from his. Stared down at him.

“I love you.” You said.

He pushed up and kissed you again.

Both your hands and his began fighting to desperately remove clothes. They were ripped from you, from him, tossed across the room. You kissed every inch of bare skin that was revealed; Lucien’s golden, muscled chest, his stomach, his arms, his hips—

But he wanted those lips of yours on his. He pulled you up. Stared into your eyes for a moment. And then he was kissing you again.

You didn’t know at which point you both ended up completely naked, your skin pressing against his, but the feeling of it alone could have brought you to release. It felt so right. So complete.

There was no fooling around. There would be time for that — a whole future’s worth. But you needed him inside you. He needed to be inside you.

He made to flip you over, but you were pressing his chest down, pushing him into the bed. He stared up at you, watching intently, hungrily, as you lifted your hips.

Your hand reached down, wrapping around his firm, hard cock. A grunt left him as you pumped him once, twice, and then lined him up with your entrance.

“Wait.” He breathed, and you paused. He sat up, bringing his body closer to yours, your faces inches apart as he said, “I love you too.”

The words were pleasure in their own right. You moaned. Captured his mouth with yours. And then you were slowly, gently, sinking down onto his length.

The two of you gasped against each other’s mouths. Lucien’s arms came round to fasten around your waist, and he held you to him, his hand landing on your hip and beginning to rock you gently.

He filled you so perfectly. You weren’t sure there was a more complete feeling than your bodies being as flawlessly aligned as your souls.

Every movement and moment was slow, unhurried. You couldn’t possibly get any closer as he kissed you and gently rocked you on his cock. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Gods,” he breathed, his hands moving up your back, over your shoulders, down your arms. “Gods, I missed you. My mate. My fireling.”

That fucking nickname would destroy you. You moaned against his mouth, rolling your hips faster. His brow furrowed in pure, unbridled pleasure as he pulled his face back and glanced down at your joined bodies.

“Look at us.” He groaned, his hand guiding your face down, thumb slipping between your lips. “Look how perfectly we fit together. There’s no one else for either of us.”

You were also groaning, whimpering, moaning, your tongue swirling around his thumb as you watched. Watched you fucking him and him fucking you. Your mate.

You weren’t aware of when, exactly, your bodies began to move faster, harder. The two of you were nothing but dancing souls as Lucien flipped you over, not once pulling out of you as he hovered over you.

But his hips ceased their movements. He stilled inside you. Stared down at you, his eyes like pools of endless, churning emotion. His hand brushed your cheek gently.

“Say it again.” He whispered, his breath fanning your face. You knew exactly what he meant.

“Lucien Vanserra, my mate,” you breathed. Your hand trailed down his body to find his. You laced your fingers together. “I am in love with you.”

It could have been a cry or a groan that left his lips. You weren’t entirely sure. His mouth met yours, and you knew your words had set you both on the home stretch. That this was how you would finish — together.

He moved in you and on you, his hands always gentle, his hips not stuttering once. Your soft “I love yous” mingled with one another’s until you didn’t know which was yours and which was his.

And then he was picking up the pace. You moaned against him, and you could feel him throbbing inside you. You wanted to feel his release.

“Come,” you whispered against his lips. “Come for me. Please.”

“Gods.” He choked. His hand reached down between you, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing at your clit, sending a white-hot sting of pleasure splintering through your body. “Come with me.”

His deft fingers left you no other choice. You were light as air as you went tumbling off that edge into oblivion, your pleasure overpowering you entirely. Lucien was falling right along with you, his cock spilling every drop inside you. While his mouth spilled nothing but love into yours.

And then he was pulling back just a little. He trembled against you, his head falling to your chest, his breaths heaving as much as yours. Your fingers threaded within his hair, soothingly massaging the area. It took you a moment to notice the wetness that trickled down between your breasts. You frowned, gently lifting his face.

Tear-filled eyes met yours. Lucien squeezed them shut, the droplets rolling down his face. You reached out, brushing his hair back.

“Hey…” you spoke softly. “Look at me.”

He did. He allowed you to see every emotion on his face. You leaned in, kissing his wet, salty lips.

“Promise me, Y/N.” He whispered, his arms pulling you against him. “Promise me we won’t be apart again. I couldn’t bear it.”

You didn’t know much. You didn't know what would happen the next day, or the day after that — or the year after that.

But you knew that you loved Lucien Vanserra more than you could possibly put into words.

And you knew you damn well meant it, with every piece of your heart and soul, as you stared into his eyes and spoke those words.

“I promise.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You’d never felt so serene, you realised, as you did while watching him sleep. 

You knew you could happily lay there forever, your body slanted over his as your fingers absentmindedly played with the braid you’d put there mere hours ago. You didn’t once tear your eyes away from the smooth, unworried sight of his face. He was beautiful.

So, so lucky you were, to have this male. To love him. He’d given you so much already. Hope. Bravery. Strength.

Your mind gently thumbed through your memories of him. Your lips twitched at the thought of that first encounter in the woods — how unnecessarily rude he’d been. How he seemed to dislike you for no reason.

And yet — and yet — look at the two of you now. In love.

The backs of your fingers brushed gently against his cheek. It was then that Lucien stirred, sucking in a slow, deep breath. His eyes fluttered open, immediately finding yours. A smile tugged at his lips.

“Were you watching me sleep?” He blinked at you sleepily, a lazy smirk replacing the soft smile.

The morning rasp in his voice turned something molten in your lower belly.

“Maybe.” You conceded, shrugging as best as you could laying on your side. “I might’ve been playing with your braid, too.”

His eyes snagged on your hand — your fingers — as they still traced the intricate design. “It’s addicting, isn’t it.”

A hum was your only response.

Both of you remained quiet and blissful, basking in each other’s company, until Lucien noticed the corners of your mouth lifting up in a soft smile. His heart went a tad wobbly in his chest.

“What is it?”

“This braid is special.”

He studied you closely, that brilliant smile widening. “Oh?”

“It signifies another thing, now. Not just Linden, but…you, too. Us. It signifies our strength. Our love.”

You heard the slight hitch of breath in his throat. Like your words would start him off crying again.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing you say that.” He whispered.

You smiled and leaned in to brush your lips against his.

“These strands of hair,” you murmured, gently tugging, “are our souls. Twined together. Always.”

He kissed you, somehow both hard and soft. And then his forehead was pressing against yours. “Always.”

You smiled. But there was no chance to breathe another word as his arms came around you, and he was flipping you over just as he had earlier.

And as he slid into you, he gasped that same word against your ear, his braid tickling your face.

Always.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The training barracks, as it turned out, were a bitch to find.

Sweat smattered Eris’s forehead and rolled down his neck as he slowed his mount to a stop. His eyes scanned the huge, imposing building before him, and with the unexpected silence that met him, it was hard to believe the place housed a troop of guards in training.

Though, if he listened harder, the sounds of clashing metal and light-hearted banter danced over to him on the soft breeze. Guards were training somewhere on the green that was big enough to rival the Vanserra Estate.

This was where the letters had indicated. And so this was where he would look.

He dismounted, shoes hitting the dirt path. He patted his horse’s neck as he strode towards the barracks. What was the etiquette here? Did he knock? Just stride in like his father would? He wasn’t sure—

He didn’t have to worry about it, though, as a sound caught his attention. He turned, eyeing the smaller — but still considerable — building to his right. A sturdy wooden building whose door was open just a crack. Curiosity piqued.

Before he could take a step forward, the door swung open wider, and a tall figure emerged. A naked, muscled torso of sweat-slick brown skin glinted in the sunlight. The male was huge, all defined, corded muscles and rugged handsomeness. He wiped his brow with a rag as he studied Eris curiously. And then stilled, recognition dawning.

But it wasn’t the sculpted body Eris’s gaze snagged on, no. His eyes scanned the brilliant, intricate braids that were currently tied in a knot atop of the male's head. The uptilted, dark eyes that were slightly feline. Cheekbones that could cut through stone. 

“Eris Vanserra?” The male spoke — and if his appearance hadn’t been a giveaway enough, the smooth, lilting accent most certainly was. “Can I help you with something?”

 Eris inclined his head, taking a step forward. “I sure hope so.”

Intrigue crossed the male’s eyes, and he stood up straighter.

“Finally we meet.” Eris said with a vague smile. “You must be Linden."

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

lucien tags: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonash @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling @adamgetawaydriver @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @lostpirateinwonderland @scrunklybunny @owllover123 @vangoghsbaby @goodbyemilkyway @babyimagangsta2

[cosmic-metanoia]

The Abhorrent Mother

***Major Spoilers for Final Fantasy XVI***

Calling Anabella the "devil" or a "bitch" sounds like a term of endearment rather than an insult. There are no words that accurately embody this woman. In my book, she wins the award for the most evil villainess which shows just how well-written she was! But it did get me thinking...in addition to the countless atrocities she committed, could it also be because she shatters the stereotype of the sacrificing and caring mother? Do we perceive her as more evil because of that?

In many cultures and religions, mothers are depicted as being soft, feminine, caring, unconditionally loving, and sacrificing for the betterment of their children and families. The character archetype of an "evil father" exists but that typically is more well-received.

When it comes to Anabella, it's as if she is the ultimate sacrilege of the pregnant mother who carries, gives birth, and loves her children dearly. Normally, with her attitude, we expect the classic "evil stepmother" archetype in full blossom. Clearly that is not the case here. I recall how some folks in the FFXVI discussion forums were waiting for the big reveal that she was indeed NOT Clive and/or Joshua's mother - because how could someone so evil give birth to two righteous sons? Turns out nope - she was, indeed, their biological mother through the bitter end!

If she was just an evil stepmother, that would have been incredibly commonplace and trite - making her their actual mother made her all the more impactful. Afterall, evil comes in all forms.

I also read that a few people had hoped she would get a redemption arc. I'm glad she didn't. And I'm glad that her and Clive never reconciled. She was too far gone and the years of verbal and emotional abuse could not be forgiven by Clive, Jill, and others. She betrayed her family, her nation, her people and started a chain reaction that altered history all to obtain more power, more riches, and an "upgrade" to her future royal bloodline.

When Bahamut/Dion killed the Emperor, sacked Twinside, and killed Olivier, all that she had built was ripped from her within minutes. (Also, notice how she did not even think to herself 'Hmm....why is there no blood or body?' after Olivier dissolved away into thin air upon being stabbed through. )

At her end, she had nothing left but to face the consequences of her actions. And I could only imagine that seeing her beloved Joshua whom she thought was dead drove the fear of some divine retribution right into her.

Personally that scene really hurt to watch - how Joshua was the last person to offer her his hand when no one else would. But that speaks more to who he is as a person. To be fair, the last time he saw his mother was when he was 10 years old and he was the one person she showed a shred of decency albeit because he was the Phoenix. Otherwise, she would have tossed him aside like she did Clive.

When she frantically swiped her blade at him and cut him in her madness, I thought, "Yep...time for her to go! How dare she hurt our beloved birb?!"I also thought it fitting that in the moment of escaping accountability, she died by her own hand. It was heartbreaking to see Joshua witness yet another parent's death right before his eyes. Clive and Jill looked away in pity for her.

She could have been the mother of not one but two Dominants and be remembered in history for that. But she threw away her family happily with both hands.

The lesson here - "some of the most poisonous people to walk the earth come in the form of family." Sure, people do deserve forgiveness depending on what their actions were but there are rare times when a so-called redemption arc is not earned and not deserved.

One final lesson is that as a child, you have the power to be different from a horrible parent and that fact is glorious.

[loki-laufeyson223]

Friday Night: Dean Winchester (This Damaged Soul of Mine)

Warnings: Amazing Dean in the beginning, smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up kiddos), really sweet aftercare (cause that's a warning all in itself)

Word Count: round bout 3k

The Loki version of this story is here!

Friday Night: Loki Laufeyson

The first thing that greets me in the morning is my loud alarm ringing in my ear. I reach over and shut it off immediately, though I know I need to get up and get ready for work but God, I really don’t want to. It was 4:30 in the friggin morning. Usually I would turn to my husband, if we weren’t already in a tight embrace, but today he was in Claremore, Oklahoma dealing with a nasty wendigo. Dean had left sometime yesterday right after supper, which was pizza. I would normally go on those kinds of hunts with Dean but hunting doesn’t pay the bills. Getting up at the crack of dawn and leaving an hour later to go work at the children’s clinic here in Lebanon, however, does.

I reluctantly rolled out of bed and grabbed some clothes to put on after my shower. After I got out of the shower I shook my long blonde hair out with a towel and got dressed in black leggings and my favorite green and black flannel. I stalked my way to the kitchen in the bunker to fix some coffee, which I call liquid fuel, and fix some breakfast. I put on my favorite playlist of old rock, some of The Beatles, and maybe some Elvis. My brother-in-law, Sam, was still on his daily run but I knew he would be getting back soon. So, I went ahead and grabbed four eggs from the fridge and put some butter in the pan I already had heating up on the smallest eye on the stove. After the eggs were cooking on the stove the coffee machine went off and I grabbed my favorite Led Zeppelin mug and poured the hot black liquid into the cup and grabbed the vanilla creamer and poured just enough in for the smallest bit of flavor. Dean always said he hated creamer in his coffee but the day after I brought it home it was already open and used. He tried to blame it on Sam but we both knew that was a flat out lie.

“Hey De?”  “Yeah Sweetheart, what’s up?”  “Who got into my new creamer?”  “Uh….. I don’t know. Have you asked Sammy?”  “Yeah he said he hadn’t gotten any. He’s been drinkin’ Eileen’s.”  “What ‘bout Cas or Jack?”  “They can’t taste.”  “Oh well it wasn’t me if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”  “Yeeeaaahhh. Ok, sure hun.”  He got up from his spot at the bench and came over to me. “Don’t you need to leave for work?”  “Oh yeah. Crap.”  Leaning down so I can angle my head up to reach, he presses a soft and lingering kiss on my lips.  “Bye De.”  “See ya later Sweetheart.”  As soon as I walked out of the kitchen Sam came up to me. “I saw him pouring it into his coffee earlier.”

Smiling at the memory, I walk over to the oven and take the pan off of the stove and set it on a hot pad. I was grabbing a plate from the cabinet when Sam walked in still sweating a little from the long run back home. “Hey Scar.”  “Hey Sam. How was the run?”  “It was good until another runner came up beside me with their kid.”  “What’s so bad about that?”  “The kid grabbed the string connected to my headphones and pulled it out of my phone somehow.”  “Ah, I see. Everyone heard your Celine Dion.”  “Uh, no. I don’t listen to her.”  “Yeah, sure. Cut the crap we all know she’s your favorite.” He rolled his eyes at my comment.  “Anyways, I made eggs and coffee.”  “Great. Hey, by the way is Eileen up yet.”  “No but I heard her alarm go off when I got up.”  “Ok thanks.”  “No problem.”  He went over to the cabinet of coffee mugs and grabbed the one I got him for Christmas with a moose on it and it said “So get this”. “I thought you used that for target practice.”  “Eileen talked me into keeping it.”  “Well then thank you Eileen.”  “You’re welcome.”  Suddenly Eileen walked into the kitchen. Last Christmas Sam saved up enough money to get Eileen a cochlear implant, so she could hear and communicate with Dean and I since we didn’t know ASL. Sometimes I forgot she had it. Sam walked over to his wife and wrapped his arms around her shoulders then pulled away to press a kiss to her forehead. “Mornin’ Clover.”  “Hey Sam.”  I sat down with my plate and coffee and grabbed the pepper and sprinkled some onto the bland eggs.  “I still don’t know why you insist on using pepper on everything instead of salt.”  

Sam made a face as I added more pepper to my eggs and ate them with a smirk, just in spite. As soon as I finished eating I got up and put my plate in the sink, already in a rush to get to the bathroom and brush my teeth so I could hurry up and get out the door. Eileen noticed I hadn’t finished my coffee so she grabbed a to-go coffee cup and poured it in there while I was in the bathroom. “Alright, bye yall!”  I called from the garage door.

 I saw Eileen running towards me holding the cup, “Thought you might want to have the rest of this. Oh and Sam said bye.”  “Thanks Eileen.”  “No problem. Now get to work before you’re late.”  I gave her a nod and walked out the door. I grabbed the keys to my green and black Supercharged Kawasaki H2R and my Ghost Rider helmet and made my way to the motorcycle. I got on, putting the key in the ignition. I turned the key, hearing the engine roar to life. I balanced the bike and kicked up my stand, putting it in gear. I revved the engine and took off.

Eight hours later I pulled into the garage and into my spot. I put down my kickstand and took off my helmet before dismounting my bike. Today there were two kids I had to send to the emergency room because the parents underestimated just what was wrong with their kid. It sucked and was stressful. It didn’t help that the parents always blamed it on me as if I had been with them the whole day. 

As I’m grabbing my laptop case out of the side bag on the bike I hear what sounds like someone running. Before I could turn around to see who it was, the sound stopped. I knew that the bunker was warded so it couldn’t have been a spirit so I just continued to walk back towards the door. I heard running behind me and next thing I knew I was being tackled from the back. 

“Gottcha Baby!”  “Dean, what are you doing?”  I raised my eyebrows as his hand traveled down from my midsection to my hips. “No no no no no. Dean don’t you dare!”  He did the exact opposite and began tickling my sides. “Dean, no, s-stop! P-please.”  “What was that Hun? I didn’t quite hear you.”  He continued his attack on my sides and it lasted for what felt like forever. When he finally stopped, we were both out of breath from laughing so hard. 

Dean turned to me with a beaming smile that lit up his entire face, eyes shining from laughter and just pure happiness.  “Sorry babe, it seemed like you were having a bad day.”  “I was and I really needed that. Thank you.”  “No problem. Now, let’s get in the bunker. I got a surprise for you in the Dean Cave.”  “What kind of surprise?”  “You’ll see when we get there.”  I rolled my eyes but at that moment, Dean lifted me off the ground and pulled me into a bridal style carry. I yelped at the sudden surprise and he took off towards the Dean Cave. 

When we got there the first thing that caught my attention was the speaker that we use for parties, was set out. The next thing was the palate set out on the floor and the sushi that was beside it. “Dean, what is this?”  “Since it’s Friday and you had a long day, I decided to give you a little treat.”  “That’s so sweet but, what’s the speaker for?”  “I figured we could listen to music while we hung out or we could watch a movie. So, which do you want to do?”  “How do you feel about music?”  “That’s just fine for me.”  I walk over to the speaker with my phone in hand and turn on my bluetooth, connecting my phone to play music. The first song I play is When the Levee Breaks and Dean gives me a look of approval and we go to sit down on the palate constructed of just about every bed-set here in the bunker. 

Dean hands me one of the trays of sushi before grabbing his own. “So, what exactly happened today that made it so bad?” I sighed, thinking about the very colorful threats that were thrown at me once I told the parents what actions they needed to take to ensure their child’s health. I was only doing my job. “I had to send two kids to the emergency room today and the parents weren’t happy about it to say the least.”  “Oh, Hun, I'm sorry.”  “It ain’t your fault. I get it though.” Dean’s brow furrowed. “I mean if it was my kid I would be upset too. I probably wouldn’t yell at the doctor but, still.”  “You probably handled it a lot better than I would’ve.” I laughed and shook my head, shrugging my shoulders in agreement. 

The song ends as I’m taking my first bite of the bubba roll Dean got from the small Japanese place just a few minutes from the bunker. I pick up my phone and play my mixed playlist on Spotify. I know Dean would usually act like he hated pop in front of Sam or anyone else but with me, he’ll sing his heart out and dance like there’s no one around. I go to the song that’s absolutely necessary at this moment, Uptown Funk. It always manages to pick up my mood when I’m down at a low, along with the company of Dean, of course. I sat down my food and stood up, grabbing Dean’s hand in the process.  “Scar, really? Right now?”  “Yes right now. Get up!”  “Sweetheart, Sam’s home.”  “I know. If he walks in, both of you can get over it.”  “That’s something for him to tell people though Hun.”  “Yeah and I have plenty on him and so do you.”  He rolled his eyes and smiled. Dean finally got up and lifted me up off the ground, spinning me around as he did. We danced like we were teenagers at their first prom, in the best way possible. 

The song finished and when the next one came on, Dean’s face lit up. He immediately dove into the first verse of Can’t Help Falling in Love. My husband pulled me into his arms and began to sway gently side to side while moving around the room.

Wise men say

Only fools, only fools rush in

Oh, but I, but I, I can’t help falling in love with you

Shall I stay?

Would it be, would it be a sin?

If I can’t help falling in love with you

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things, you know, are just meant to be 

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can’t help falling in love with you

For I can’t help falling in love with you

He finishes the song and dance with an enchanting kiss. Enveloping my lips with his, he grabs the sides of my face pulling me deeper into the kiss. I reach around and intertwine my hands in his dark brown locks. Here recently he’s been growing out his hair and it’s made it down to right below his neck, his bangs just barely reaching beneath his eyebrows. His hair has grown out to be a dark brown in his older age. Small flecks of gray sprinkled throughout. The cool feeling of the soft strands only heighten the small pool in my stomach. 

That is until Dean pulls away. When I whine softly in protest, Dean puts a finger to my lips and trails his finger down to my chin and tilts my head up so I’m looking straight into the green oceans that he calls normal eyes. Nothing that breathtaking can be “normal”. “Scarlett, no matter what anyone says, you’re an incredible doctor. I mean you worked your ass off for those degrees. You shouldn’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I mean if you were my kid’s doctor and you found out something that was really wrong with them, I would have given over my paycheck that week. And before you say anything, no I’m not just saying this to make you feel better. I’m telling you the truth, ‘cause that’s just what we all need to hear sometimes.”

I smiled and blinked away the tears that had formed in my eyes. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled those soft, pillowy lips down to mine. Dean groaned and slipped his tongue into my mouth. The kiss formed a beautiful symphony between us and we played the song that we knew by our hearts. 

Dean pulled away just enough to grumble “Bedroom” and oh did I comply. I nodded and he grabbed the underside of my thighs and hoisted me up so I could wrap my legs around his hips. Our lips never parted as he walked us to the bedroom we share amongst all the others in the bunker, we chose this one with the feeling and anticipation to make memories that would last a lifetime.  

Somehow, Dean managed to get the door open, us in, closing and locking the door behind us, still without breaking the feverish kiss. He laid me down on the bed with such ease it made me feel like I weighed nothing but a feather. Dean got up from the bed to rid himself of everything he was wearing and got back on top of me to “assist” me in the same way. 

When I was completely bare before him, Dean just stared with lust and awe in his eyes. “So beautiful.”  He murmured sweet little nothings as he kissed his way from my neck to my bare heat. He pressed a kiss to my clit and went down further to lick a hot, wet stripe all the way back up. My thighs instinctively went close around his head and he placed a firm hand against one and pushed just slightly. “Gotta have my meal spread out for me Baby.”  A cocky grin spread across his lips as he dipped his head back down to my dripping pussy and buried his tongue as far as he could, and oh was it far, into my inner walls. 

My hands found their way to his hair and pulled tight at the brown, peppered lock causing the god of a man to groan, the vibration sending a shiver to my core and up my spine. “Oh God, Dean!”  

Dean took his free hand and brought it up to my clit, making small tantalizing circles and applying just the right amount of pressure to the small pearl, to send me to oblivion with release. A guttural groan pulled itself from the depths of my throat with my finish and Dean brought himself up to my lips and claimed my lips with his in a lust filled kiss that left us both completely breathless.

“Dean, I need you now.”  The plea came out more broken than I intended but it still got the message across because Dean was ready in an instant, already leaning back on his heels and lining himself up with my entrance. He looked to me with a silent ask for permission, I nodded and with that my breath had completely left my body as he buried himself to the hilt with the first thrust. 

Dean was holding himself up with his forearms and was hovering just above my face, he leaned down to my ear, just a little lower beneath the sensitive lobe and sucked a dark bruise on the spot that he knew drove me wild everytime. “Dean, please, move.”  He nodded slightly and pulled out to the tip and thrusted back in again with more force behind it with a deep groan. 

Our bodies moved in unison, like two puzzle pieces finding their way with each other with ease until Dean shivered and I felt his length twitch inside my hot core and with one final thrust, the one I love most in this world found his release, painting my insides white. My release was triggered by his own, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. When we had both caught our breath and calmed down mostly, Dean got up to go get a towel to clean us both up. 

With the towel thrown aside and us both content in the bed, I grabbed my husband’s waist in a tight hug. “Hey Baby.” He whispered into my hair, pressing a lingering kiss to my head before propping his chin up there. I just yawned in response and heard Dean chuckling softly, his shoulders moving slightly with the action. “You tired?”  “Mhm.”  Dean kissed the top of my head again and I closed my eyes and welcomed the sleep that followed shortly after. The last thing I heard before sleep claimed me completely was my husband’s deep voice slightly mumble, “G’night Sweetheart. I love you with all of this damaged soul of mine.”

Taglist: @holdmytesseract @bayleighmiller @whollyintroverted @spnjohnlocked @javagirl328 @km-ffluvluv @mischief-dream @asher-england69 @buttercupcookies-blog @glitterylokislut @shineywizardbird @disneygirl1859

[drabblesandimagines]

400 request. Can I get a happy ending with Clive? Thank you!

Thank you so much for your request! <3 I hope you enjoy x Promises Clive Rosfield x fem reader, established relationship Major endgame spoilers! 1,140 words

From dawn to dusk, day after day from when Origin fell from the sky, you've waited on the pier, keeping your eyes on the horizon. It's better to stay in the one place, you reason, though it's hard. He could be hurt, convalescing somewhere until he's well enough to travel. And now that the stolas magic is gone, it’s going to take far longer to send word places and receive it back - if you left the Hideaway in search, he could return in your absence.

So you stay, even though your heart aches.

There are pity-filled glances from all directions. You move to the side to allow the Cursebreakers to board the skiff heading over to the mainland. They’re away to help people adjust to the new age – how to cope without the Mothercrystals providing for them any longer.

"I'm not sure this is healthy, like." Gav comments, a bowl of stew in hand. Everyone seems to constantly bring you sustenance – they must have a rota, Tarja, Jill, Otto, Gav - as if you could fill the gnawing hole within with food. "He-"

"Is coming back." You cut him off firmly, taking the offered bowl. "Clive promised he’s coming back. I just need to be patient."

Gav starts another protest but then hesitates, swallowing his rebuttal altogether. There’s a further pause as he scans the horizon, placing his hands on his hips. "How long are you going to wait like this?"

You blow on a spoonful of the stew. "As long as it takes." 

Sleep has been difficult. His smell lingers on the sheets – a combination of musk, ash and just something that is uniquely Clive. You could return to your bunk but it doesn’t seem right. When you close your eyes and you’re somewhere in the between of being awake and asleep, you can almost pretend you've buried your face in his side, rather than his pillow.

On the sixth day, a small sail boat appears on the horizon near dusk, or at least you think that’s what it is. You'd been staring most of the day and there’s a worry that it could be a mirage conjured from wishful thinking after staring so hard at nothing for hours. Otto had lent you a spyglass, though somewhat reluctantly – should he be encouraging this behaviour? You knew they all thought you were in the depths of grief, deluding yourself sitting out here, day after day.

But Clive had promised, and he'd never broken a promise before, so why should you think he’d start now?

You hold up the spyglass to your eye with a shaky hand, trying to steady it so you can actually look, but it’s no use. The boat has dipped off the horizon, or perhaps it wasn’t there at all.

You rub your eyes as you walk slowly up the pier – you need sleep.

--

It takes a while for sleep to come, but you must’ve drifted off eventually because something wet nuzzles at your cheek, proceeding to lick you across your face relentlessly.

“What is it, Torgal?” Your voice is heavy with sleep as you reluctantly open your eyes. It was one of the more solid sleeps you’d had in a while, but the wolf won’t have woken you without purpose.

Torgal barks once, his tail wagging from side to side, and he trots over to the door. You get to your feet – it’s still the dead of night, but he must sense something. You dress quickly to protect yourself against the chill and follow the wolf as he leads you to the lift and down towards the end of the dock. He sits down, tail banging against the planks, and howls into the sky.

As if in response, a sail boat – the same from earlier that day? – emerges from the mist and illuminated by the moon’s warm glow you can see the lone figure that steers it without an eyeglass.

Clive. Your heart skips a beat as it sinks in – no Joshua, no Dion.

But it is Clive.

The boat collides into the pier with a thud and he flings a rope out to secure the vessel. You bend down and grab it in shaking hands, looping it around the cleat in a knot that Obolus would’ve raised a judgemental eyebrow at, but it’ll hold and that’s all that matters.

You don’t wait for him to get off the boat - you can’t - instead jumping from the dock, causing the vessel to rock violently side to side in your enthusiasm as you land, truly putting your knot to the test, but how could you stand there? You cup his face, your hands still shaking from adrenaline. You can tell he’s weary, dark circles under his eyes but he’s here, he’s real.

“I told them you were coming back.” Your voice breaks, the tears you’ve held in for days finally flowing down your cheeks. “I told them.”

“I made you a promise, my lady.” His voice is thick as he holds in his own tears.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, though something feels off about the embrace. There isn’t much time to pinpoint what exactly, as Torgal jumps into the boat and knocks you both down, happily licking his master’s face.

“Hello, boy.” He laughs, breathlessly, patting the wolf hound on the head. “I’m sorry to have kept the both of you waiting.”

Torgal barks happily in acknowledgement, before backing up and jumping back onto the pier. It’s as if he knows the two of you need this moment alone. Clive raises a hand to caress your face then, wiping away some tears with his thumb. You lean down and kiss him - soft, frantic kisses, tanged with salt. His arm wraps around your waist, but something cold and hard rests on your back instead of a warm palm and you sit up in realisation. He sits up slowly after you, holding the limb in front of his chest.

“Oh, my darling…” You touch his petrified fingers delicately, afraid that they may break. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It spread no further than my elbow, though it should’ve.” He sounds almost bitter.

“Don’t say that.”

“It should have, for the amount of power I wielded… But all I could think about was what I promised you, my lady. I’m sorry it took me so long to return to you – a row boat was no longer in question.” He jokes, but it doesn’t sound sincere. He hesitates, staring at his hand, doubt in his voice. “Will… Will you still have me?”

“Always…” You take both of his hands in yours, no hesitation. “..and in all ways, Clive. I love you.”

He leans his forehead against yours. “As do I, my darling one. I love you – always, and in all ways.”

--

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[drinkyourvillainjuice]

Mal NSFW Alphabet? O.O

Looks like the doors are opened up on these, huh?

Well, here we go...

Forewarning: this is another level lewder than Wil's one.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Cuddly. Annoyingly self-satisfied.

They're definitely gonna check in on their partner while couching it in a tease.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Mal's a little indifferent to their own body. They can switch things around. Their partner? Depends which part makes them squirm the most.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It's fun when things get sticky ;)

(the cleanup is not so fun. but at least it was a good time)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has definitely boned in some places that one probably should not, including at least once somebody else's bed. Like, not on purpose per se. but you know. heat of the moment.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Most experienced in the cast. They strike out a lot, but hey, if you don't shoot your shot, then you don't know.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Bending over their partner, pressing their front into their partner's back, a hand between their partner's legs.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

0% serious. They're gonna fool around, and their partner's gotta come prepared for that.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Depends on their mood ;)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Not especially lovey-dovey but they're used to hook-ups so they only warm into being intimate over time and once they know their partner wants that.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

ehhh they will but it's usually more fun for them with a partner.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

"I wonder if I can make them cum in their pants..."

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom is usually best. Look, the floor might be fun in theory, but your knees are gonna start feeling real rough on the hardwood after a minute or two.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Being with somebody they like. A partner who talks/emotes during the act. Not taking things too seriously. Turning the table/getting it turned on them.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Very picky about what they'll do with their power before the deed and a fairly hard no about during.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Would rather give than receive, and knows what they're doing.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Very fast when excited, obnoxiously slow if they think they can wind up their partner.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

They don't mind experimenting at all, variety is the spice of life.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Their biology is a bit of a cheat code here. They've been known to go off real fast if they're particularly horny, but they're usually good to go again before too long.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

They have a couple, but they like body on body better.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

OFF THE CHARTS.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

They talk a lot during sex. Like a lot a lot.

Mal: Oh? Why don't you try shutting me up?

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dion's accidentally walked in on them more than once and they find it excruciatingly embarrassing and feel deeply apologetic for it

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Psssh. Wouldn't you like to know.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Literally has the highest libido of the entire cast.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If permitted to cuddle, they'll start get snoozy before too too long.