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hamsterclaw · 6 months

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Yoongi’s a murder detective fighting burnout when he’s assigned the case that you and your former partner fucked up.

Paring: Yoongi x f! Reader

Genre: Detectives!Yoongi and reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of murder, bloodshed and assault, sex, depression and burnout, mentions of guns

The flashing blue lights in Yoongi’s window are followed by the wail of sirens cutting through the early evening bustle.

Yoongi looks out the window. He’s three floors up from street level, there’s raindrops tracking along the dirty glass, the faint smell of mildew that accompanies any rainfall in this filthy city.

Under the table, his good leather shoes, the ones he saves for weddings and funerals, have rubbed a hole in the skin over his achilles. Yoongi had worn them for his disciplinary hearing today, the part of him that still wants to be a cop temporarily winning over the part of him that doesn’t.

He wonders if this is what burnout feels like.

His superior, Kim Namjoon, had called him into his office after the hearing to tell him he was on probation, to clean up his act because he wouldn’t be so lucky as to get off next time.

The truth is, Yoongi had known while he was pressing the suspect’s face into gravel with his booted foot that it would come back to bite him on the ass.

He’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s never been kind to scum who exploit children, but his partner, Jung Hoseok, had seen something in Yoongi’s face that day that had made him report Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t blame him. Hoseok has been his partner on and off for five years and he’s as sterling as they come. His moral compass is as strong as it was the day they graduated from the academy, despite all the fucked up shit they’ve seen.

Unlike Yoongi.

Yoongi was never black and white to begin with and now he’s so far into the grey he scares himself sometimes. It’s never been his goal to be the kind of cop who metes out his own justice.

Only madness lies that way.

Anyway now Hoseok’s been reassigned temporarily to narcotics, supposedly a break from homicide, and Yoongi’s partnerless.

Probably not for long, there’s always some hungry rookie wanting the credibility of working homicide.

Yoongi sighs, closes the file he’d been skimming. It’s well past seven, there aren’t any open cases that need his immediate attention and he figures he might as well go home to his apartment and his cat, Kenzo.

The pavement’s slippery under the smooth soles of his good shoes, Yoongi pulls his coat tighter against the early autumn chill as he walks the five blocks to his apartment.

The smell of fried wontons fills his nostrils as he passes a conduit street in the back end of Little China, Yoongi’s tempted to stop and pick up dinner.

He’s tempted every time and succumbed yesterday so he soldiers on, not without a pang of regret. He regrets food choices because he’d rather that, than think about his actual regrets.

The bang of a gunshot when he’d been two minutes too late to what then became a crime scene.

Fucking some girl with a cute face because he hadn’t been man enough to treat Mara the way she deserved.

Choosing to stay in homicide even after it had become clear to him that he had plumbed the depths of human depravity. Scarring his psyche repeatedly because it’s easier than making the active choice to request a transfer.

Yoongi unlocks his door, toes his shoes off, hangs up his coat.

There’s a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a flash of grey fur as Kenzo skitters across the entryway, close but not touching him.

It’s the kind of greeting Yoongi can get behind.

He pours out a serving of dry food into Kenzo’s dish, heads to the fridge to reheat yesterday’s wontons.

Eats standing at the tiny kitchen island, cracks open a beer to wash it all down.

He catches sight of his face, pinched in the scowl it seems to fall into more often than not these days.

Jesus, is he getting old?

Yoongi avoids looking at his reflection again as he showers. Changes into the same t-shirt he’s been wearing for weeks, contemplates watching porn just to take the edge off, but decides he can’t be bothered.

He falls into sleep, deep and dreamless, wakes up with an almighty crick in his neck just before dawn from the way he’d been huddled in a tight ball under the covers.

He knows he’s not right, but he’s been not right for so long Yoongi wouldn’t even know where to start putting himself together again.

***

Redemption comes in odd packages, Yoongi thinks, as he looks up a case he worked on six months ago, a shady businessman on the fringe of organised crime who’d got high as a kite and beat a sex worker to death.

He’d been killed on the way to serving out his sentence in the cushy prison in Busan his fancy lawyer had managed to negotiate, crushed in the back of the transport vehicle when it had been t-boned by a lorry.

Apparently a freak accident, Yoongi doubts it but he’s also not going to look too closely, it’s out of his jurisdiction and he’s too jaded to mourn the loss of another brutal asshole. They’d had to identify the sex worker by her dental records and DNA, her face had been unrecognisable.

There’s a knock on the frosted glass panel on his office door, Yoongi looks up as Kim Namjoon walks in, followed by the latest hungry rookie angling for a stint in homicide.

‘Min Yoongi, this is Y/N L/N,’ Namjoon says. ‘She’s a new transfer in from the Seoul branch.’

Yoongi doesn’t have to fake his disinterest as he nods politely at you.

‘What’s the case?’ he asks.

Namjoon looks pointedly at the crime scene photo blown up on Yoongi’s screen.

Yoongi waits.

He can feel your gaze on him, but he’ll get to that later.

The anticipation of a new case never gets old, he’s been in homicide since he graduated off the beat ten years ago and he no longer thinks it’s sick of him to get excited about another murder.

It’s the thrill of the hunt that he lives for, the translation of nebulous facts and witness statements into a puzzle that he can solve.

Yoongi’s damn good at his job. It almost makes the sacrifices in the rest of his so-called life worth it.

Namjoon hands Yoongi a case file, crisp, sharp edges waiting to razor his fingertips open. Flat.

Inside, the standard cover page, then a note that makes Yoongi sit up straight out of his slouch.

He looks at Namjoon to find Namjoon’s already looking at him.

‘The reaper of Seoul?’

Yoongi realises as he says the words out loud how it sounds.

The capture and subsequent conviction of the serial killer who’d terrorised the citizens of Seoul for three years had made headlines nationwide.

Last year.

‘Yeah,’ Namjoon says, the tension in his jaw evident now that Yoongi’s looking at him properly.

Namjoon glances at you. ‘It would seem he never left.’

You shift your weight and your eyes meet Yoongi’s.

‘My partner and I broke the case,’ you say. There’s a brittle smoothness to your voice that Yoongi recognises as a paper thin facade over the hauntedness underneath. ‘Turns out we didn’t.’

***

The note in the case file is a single sheet of letter paper, lined in blue.

The handwriting is precise, neat between the lines.

Oh dear.

Better luck this time?

Best regards from your neighbourhood Reaper.

Yoongi looks at you, sitting across the room at the desk Hoseok’s temporarily vacated.

You’re staring at your screen, face backlit in blue, expression unreadable. You’re in black, nondescript knitwear, your hair pushed back from your face, eyes narrowed.

He clears his throat. ‘You worked the case with your partner.’

It’s a statement you answer to like a question.

‘It was the first case I picked up when I joined homicide,’ you say, turning to Yoongi. ‘It started with -‘

‘Kim Seulgi,’ Yoongi says.

You nod, almost grimacing at the name of the Seoul Reaper’s first high profile victim.

‘Her family wanted answers.’

Kim Seulgi had been born of Seoul’s elite, an architect with her grandfather’s firm who had picked up a number of accolades for her work on the National Opera House.

She’d been engaged to an equally accomplished classical pianist, Jeong Minho, and had been the only offspring of her wealthy parents.

She’d disappeared three days before her wedding, only to turn up on her wedding day, floating in the Hangang, dressed in the clothes she’d disappeared in.

You say, ‘She was an ambitious first target.’

‘Was she the first?’ Yoongi asks.

The flicker in your eyes tells him this isn’t the first time you’ve considered this.

‘My partner Kiho.’ There’s strain in your voice. You start again. ‘My partner, Kiho, and I thought he’d killed before.’

You shrug. ‘The captain felt we were wasting time looking back into his early years.’

Yoongi says, neutral, ‘Budgets are limited, your case must have passed the thresholds for plausible deniability.’

‘It seemed to fit,’ you agree.

Your eyes meet again. ‘Not all of it, though.’

Yoongi knows, intimately, what it’s like to not be certain. Sometimes all you have is your instinct. It’s one thing to build a case no reasonable person would doubt, but you’re also betting on your gut. You’re betting on being a good enough detective to know that the pieces fit, without forcing them to fit.

You’re betting on being honest with yourself, and Yoongi knows more than anyone how tempting the lies can be.

Now you’re the one watching him, taking the measure of him.

His email pings.

‘That’s the link to the full case file,’ you say.

You get up, carry a stack of notebooks to his desk.

‘Our notebooks,’ you say.

Yoongi looks at the stack.

Every cop’s got their own collection of notebooks, raw data and impressions that don’t always make it into official reports.

The equivalent of dirty underwear when you’re not expecting company versus lingerie when you’re down to fuck.

This close, he can smell your shampoo, bright and faintly floral.

You blink at him.

‘I need to sort something with human resources,’ you say. ‘I’ll see you later.’

In actual fact it’s 36 hours later when he next sees you, at 4am, at a crime scene.

***

The rain falling is more than a drizzle, enough that the tent around the victim is the first priority.

There’s an imprint of violence in the air, Yoongi knows you feel it too by the way your lips tighten as you duck under the yellow tape to join him.

You nod at him in greeting, then there’s silence as you enter the tent.

The victim’s on her front, face turned to the right, hand tucked under her cheek.

She hasn’t been dead long enough for livedo to set in, she would almost look asleep if it weren’t for the purple of her lips, the greyness to her complexion.

The bath of blood she’s lying in.

Yoongi can just see the edge of the gaping wound on her neck.

You wait until forensics turns her body over.

The top three buttons of her silk blouse are undone, her chest slick with blood.

Yoongi’s reading the crime scene like he’s reading you, and he knows what you’re going to say before you say it.

‘It’s him,’ you breathe. The devastation in your eyes makes it difficult for him to look at you. ‘Fuck, it’s him.’

***

You’re shivering visibly despite the hot coffee Yoongi’s poured you, despite the fact that he’s turned the heating in his ancient Hyundai up as far as it’ll go.

There are droplets of water in your hair, sparkling incongruously in the gloom.

You’re waiting till first light to knock on neighbourhood doors, the victim was found in a quiet cul-de-sac.

Two minutes from her own front door.

Not much chills Yoongi these days but that fact does make him pause.

The audacity of it.

He says, ‘I have a blanket in the trunk.’

You’re protesting but Yoongi gets back out in the rain anyway, grabs the blanket and gets back in.

Hands it to you, takes your cup as you drape the blanket around yourself.

‘It gets colder here than Seoul,’ Yoongi offers, handing you your coffee back.

‘We fucked it up,’ you say, and Yoongi knows that’s what you’ve been thinking since you saw the body.

He’s just been waiting for you to be ready to say it.

‘So make it right,’ he says, simple.

‘An innocent man’s in prison because Kiho and I fucked up,’ you say.

Yoongi doesn’t want to minimise it but he doubts the man you put away was completely innocent.

‘I read your notebooks,’ he says. ‘Who’s Jeon Bogyeol?’

There had been twelve murders before the arrest. All women in their late twenties to mid thirties, all living alone.

They’d all lived in the same part of Seoul, but apart from that there was nothing to link them that he could find.

You look at him warily. ‘He was a night watchman at the apartments of seven of the women.’

Yoongi waits.

‘We cross-referenced staff at all the addresses, and his name kept coming up. Like Jang Daeseong.’

You flinch at the name of the man convicted of the murders, as though it didn’t fall from your own lips.

You keep talking, though, your voice never faltering. ‘We never found any links between Jeon Bogyeol and the other five women.’

‘Did he have a history?’ Yoongi asks. He’s looking out the window at the first rays of sunrise, muted orange through the rain. His shoulder aches, an old injury he doesn’t think about except when he’s tired, and cold.

‘There was a neighbour,’ you say. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, a tell Yoongi’s noticed for the first time tonight.

‘She called the police once saying she’d seen Bogyeol taking a woman into his apartment against her will.’

You’re frowning. ‘The beat cops who responded to the call out said there was no sign of anyone else in his apartment. The neighbour moved away.’

‘Moved away?’ Yoongi asks, and you glance at him, understanding the sharpness in his tone.

‘I was going to look into it when the Chief shut us down,’ you say. It’s stated simply, like a fact, no sign of defensiveness.

Yoongi offers you more coffee from his flask.

‘Where’s Bogyeol now?’

‘When the new letter came in I looked him up,’ you say. The steam rising from your cup obscures part of your expression for a moment, but Yoongi can hear the tremor in your voice.

‘He’s less than fifty miles east of here.’

Dawn’s breaking, the rain’s finally starting to peter out, but Yoongi’s chilled anyway.

***

The morning sun is high in the sky by the time Yoongi and you finish interviewing the neighbours and the new victim’s friends and family.

Yoongi’s phone rings. It’s Namjoon.

‘Can you talk?’ Namjoon asks.

Yoongi mouths ‘Namjoon’ in response to your inquiring expression, puts some distance between you and him.

‘Yeah,’ he answers.

‘The post-mortem results are back, and the preliminary tox screen is negative. The ME’s put the cause of death as exsanguination.’

Yoongi processes this. ‘It’s the same MO as the previous Seoul reaper victims,’ he says.

Namjoon sighs. ‘Has anything new come out of your interviews?’

‘No,’ Yoongi says. The victim had been well-liked, none of the neighbours had seen or heard anything, and on the surface of it there were no conflicts he could see. Her boyfriend of two years had been away on a work trip, his location confirmed around the window of the crime.

Yoongi’s looking at you as you wait against the car, and when your name comes out of Namjoon’s mouth he’s already got an inkling of what Namjoon wants to know.

‘I reviewed the case,’ Namjoon says. ‘There are no obvious flaws or errors in their investigation.’

Yoongi grunts. ‘There was a lead that they didn’t follow up on.’

He fills Namjoon in.

‘I’ll follow it up.’

Namjoon says, thoughtfully, ‘I wonder where her partner’s working now.’

Yoongi’s surprised Namjoon doesn’t already know, to be honest, he’s always two steps ahead of Yoongi.

He flicks his gaze to you again. You’re still waiting against the car, and there’s a loneliness to your posture, a fatigued downturn to your mouth that makes him say, ‘Hey Joon, I’ll call you back, ok?’

He ends the call, unlocks the car.

‘We should get back and compare notes,’ Yoongi says. His voice has dropped the way it does when he’s tired, and shit, he is tired. He hasn’t slept well for a while.

‘Let me drive,’ you offer. You take his keys, and your fingers brush his for an instant.

The contact, brief though it is, makes Yoongi’s skin tingle.

He wonders if you notice his reaction, but you’re already sliding in, adjusting the seat, starting up the car.

***

Yoongi wakes when you’re parking the car, sits up, a little embarrassed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, looking to gauge your reaction.

‘Don’t be,’ you reply. ‘I would have done the same if you’d driven.’

There’s a hint of mischief in the curve of your half-smile.

‘You mumble in your sleep.’

Yoongi rubs a hand over his face. ‘What’d I say?’

‘I couldn’t make out any words,’ you tell him, but there’s a twinkle in your eye that makes him wonder if that’s really true.

Mara is the only person who’s shared his bed in recent years, and she’d never mentioned anything.

You swipe your ID to get into the station, hit the lifts.

In the dire grey lighting you look almost as tired as he does.

‘Coffee?’ Yoongi offers, when you pass the vending machine on the way to the office.

‘Yeah,’ you say. You’re on your phone, frowning over a text.

Yoongi passes you a cup.

‘Problem?’ he asks.

‘Kiho,’ you say. You look at him. ‘My old partner. He wants to meet up.’

‘It’d be useful to talk through the case with him,’ Yoongi agrees.

Your expression is difficult to read. ‘He’s in a retreat a couple hours drive from here. He took time off after we closed the case.’

Yoongi gulps his coffee. ‘There isn’t anything else we can do here anyway, we’re waiting on leads.’

He reaches out his hand for the car keys. ‘I can drive.’

***

The retreat Kiho is staying in is set amongst the foothills of a mountain, rolling grounds all around, a view of the cliffs overlooking the sea.

It seems to Yoongi like a place only the very rich or the very damaged would live.

Unless you get better pay packets in Seoul he’s apprehensive about meeting Kiho.

You sign in at the front desk, the receptionist greets you warmly, like she’s met you a few times before.

You lead Yoongi through a huge lounge, through open patio doors and into a green. Yoongi’s looking around at the residents, scanning the area the way he does automatically whenever he’s in an unfamiliar place.

You’re waving a hand, and then you’re embracing a tall man tightly. Neither of you say anything but Yoongi can see the way your shoulders slump, like the tension’s draining out of you.

It’s only when the tall man looks up at Yoongi inquiringly that Yoongi notices the long scar running along his neck. Tracing the path of his jugular, vertical rather than horizontal.

Kiho extends a hand.

‘So you’re going to get our guy,’ he says.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say to that.

‘We’re going to get him,’ he says, finally.

Kiho turns to you. ‘You haven’t told him,’ he says to you.

You’re looking at Yoongi.

‘We can tell him now.’

***

‘I started getting notes after Jang Daeseong was convicted,’ you say. You’re sitting in a gazebo with Yoongi and Kiho, mugs of coffee in front of you.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

You flick your eyes to his, then look away, unlock your phone.

Yoongi takes your phone, scrolls through a gallery of pictures.

Lined paper, handwriting he’s seen before.

Yoongi reads through the content, then returns your phone to you.

‘The originals are with forensics,’ you tell him. ‘The paper and ink are generic, impossible to trace. There’s no trace of DNA, not so much as a partial print.’

‘The notes stopped coming last month,’ you say. ‘Right around the time I moved.’

Kiho’s scratching his neck absently, Yoongi catches how your gaze drops to his scar.

The length of it’s longer than a stab wound, he thinks the surgeons might have had to extend the scar to repair the vessels beneath.

You turn to Yoongi.

‘We have to stop him,’ you say. ‘Use me to lure him out.’

‘He nearly killed me,’ Kiho says. His expression is sober, his tone flat.

He stops there, but Yoongi can hear his next words, loud and clear.

What’s he going to do to you?

‘We can’t let him keep going like this,’ you say, very gently.

Kiho meets Yoongi’s gaze.

Yoongi doesn’t falter.

‘He has to be stopped,’ he agrees.

***

The drive back to the police station goes quicker - there’s something about seeing your old partner that’s given you a bump of energy.

Yoongi can practically feel the adrenaline fizzing in your blood, coming off you in waves.

He’s worried about the crash when the adrenaline ebbs.

He sure as fuck hopes you can cope with the lows better than he can.

He’d put in a call before you left the retreat, Namjoon’s fast tracking a last known address on the neighbour of Jeon Bogyeol who’d moved away.

You’re typing an address into the satnav yourself, face drawn, eyes serious.

Yoongi doesn’t have to ask whose address it is.

‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ he asks.

His voice is as neutral as he can make it but he already knows that you’ve made your decision.

It’s written all over you, in the way your shoulders are squared, in the tilt of your chin, in the way your hands are tensed into fists in your lap.

‘I need to see this through, Yoongi,’ you say.

Yoongi takes a moment.

‘What happened to Kiho?’ he asks.

‘He didn’t see who it was,’ you answer. Your eyes are fixed in front of you, jaw tensed.

‘He was heading home in between shifts and he got jumped in the car park under his apartment. If he hadn’t been found by the car park attendant —‘ you voice trails off, and you shiver.

‘He was lucky the car park attendant called for help right away. That his next door neighbour, fresh off a shift in the trauma department, arrived home when she did and was there to take over. That he lives five minutes on blue lights away from the best trauma centre in Seoul.’

You look at Yoongi. ‘Kiho’s damned lucky to be alive.’

‘It’s a different injury from the reaper’s usual MO,’ Yoongi says slowly.

You nod. ‘He was toying with us.’

‘You said you received notes from the Reaper,’ Yoongi says. He’s watching you carefully in the rearview. ‘What did they say?’

Your lips press together in a line, but your voice is steady when you answer.

‘He said he’d been watching me, and that he was coming for me. That I’d be his final kill.’

***

The address you’ve put in for Jeon Bogyeol is a house in a run down suburban neighbourhood, the type of place Yoongi grew up.

The houses are haphazardly arranged, like a careless scatter on a Monopoly board, connected by a warren of roads too narrow for more than one car to pass.

Yoongi can see you tensing up the closer you get to your destination, and after he parks and switches off the engine, he places his hand on your arm.

Your eyes are expressive, more so than your voice.

‘We haven’t got grounds yet for an arrest warrant,’ you say, flat.

‘We’re working the case,’ Yoongi replies. ‘And if it’s right, we’ll work it until it’s airtight.’

Your response is to stare at him a moment, then to push open the car door.

Yoongi notices that you’ve unzipped your jacket, making your holstered gun more visible.

His own gun presses against his hip, the weight of it reminding him that although he’s only drawn it a handful of times, each time has been with intent.

He sure as fuck hopes neither of you will have reason to draw your gun today.

***

The address is little more than a shack, a rickety door that looks like it’ll give under a strong kick, a boarded up window that’s visibly cracked.

Yoongi knocks, identifies you both.

Follows procedure because he’s determined to get it all right this time.

Get the monster locked up where he belongs.

You don’t have grounds to break down the door, at least not until you go round to the back and see the pink tricycle upended in the dirt, streamers splayed tendrils of pink and white.

There isn’t much that sends Yoongi into the grey as much as the suggestion that a child might be involved.

He doesn’t really recall looking at you to confirm, just knows that one minute he’s outside in the chill and the next he’s inside the shack, gun drawn, the metallic tang of blood in the back of his throat.

There’s nowhere to hide in the empty shack, Jeon Bogyeol is gone.

You do a cursory search but both of you know you aren’t going to find your answers here.

Then Yoongi must blank out, because the next thing he hears is your voice, firm, saying his name.

He’s panting, covered in sweat, back against a wall, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his jacket to keep him upright.

He blinks, and you snap into focus. There’s ringing in his ears.

Your mouth opens, and the ringing stops. He hears your voice.

‘Let’s go, Yoongi.’

He lets you lead him out, folds himself into the passenger seat of your car, notes distantly how you put your hand on the top of the doorframe like you’re worried he’s going to bang his head.

You start the engine and then you drive, and Yoongi’s grateful that you don’t say anything at all, don’t ask for an explanation of why a fucking tricycle sent him into a tailspin.

Yoongi looks down in his lap because he’s not ready to see if you’re looking at him differently now that you’ve seen him wig out.

You put the radio on after a few minutes, stop at a drive thru after an hour.

It’s only when you hand him a coffee, silently, that he’s moved to speak.

He clears his throat, and you’re the one who speaks, still looking straight ahead, out the windscreen.

‘You don’t have to tell me. I mean, I’ll listen if you do, but you don’t have to.’

Yoongi chews on that a moment.

‘Three years ago I worked what we thought was a murder in Busan. It turned out to be an abduction.’

Yoongi laughs. There’s no humour in it.

‘We found her. She was still warm. If we’d been ten minutes quicker at figuring it out, if her fucking dad had told us about the business deal he had that had gone sour sooner, if I’d even just tried harder…’

His voice trails off.

He risks a glance at you.

You’re still not looking at him.

‘I can’t speak to whether you could have prevented it, Yoongi. All I know is that none of us come to work to do a bad job.’

Your hand lands on his forearm briefly.

‘Some days are just bad days at the office.’

It’s not the first time Yoongi’s heard it, but it’s the first time it’s been said to him with no judgement that he can hear.

***

When you get back to the precinct, Namjoon’s waiting.

He hands Yoongi another case file.

‘I got Jimin to follow up on those leads we talked about,’ Namjoon says, no preamble.

‘We visited Jeon Bogyeol’s last known address,’ you say. ‘There’s no one there now, but it hasn’t been long since he moved out.’

Namjoon says, ‘Keep me informed.’

He nods to the case file. ‘There’s some interesting information in there.’

As Namjoon walks off, you turn to Yoongi.

‘I’m going down to visit someone I know in forensics, see if they can check the house.’

Yoongi heads for your joint office.

There’s a cleaning cart parked just outside the door, which opens just as Yoongi reaches for the doorknob.

The cleaner apologises and bows politely.

Yoongi steps aside to let her pass.

‘You forgot this,’ he says, spotting the dusting cloth left on your desk.

He hands it to her and places the file on his desk.

Outside, it’s raining again.

***

Yoongi wakes with a jolt.

You’re perched on the edge of his desk.

‘You should go home, get some sleep.’

‘In the middle of an active murder investigation?’ Yoongi mumbles.

‘I’m one of the potential targets, remember?’ you say, grimacing. ‘He might come to us.’

At Yoongi’s expression, you say, ‘We’ve been doing nothing but following up leads since the last murder. The last investigation took months, almost a year. What are you going to do, not sleep until he’s caught?’

‘I don’t sleep much anyway,’ Yoongi says, but he knows you’re right.

‘I know you don’t,’ you reply. There’s an empathy in your tone that reminds him you’re a homicide detective too.

You exchange a look, and then you both speak at the same time.

‘I should go —‘

‘Do you like wontons?’ Yoongi blurts out.

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Is this like inviting me in for ramen?’

‘What?’ Yoongi splutters. ‘No, not like that. There’s this place I go. They have—-‘

‘Wontons, I get it,’ you say. You get up. ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’

***

It’s been a while since Yoongi shared a meal with someone else, the last person was Hoseok, who could go straight from a crime scene to a steakhouse without turning a hair.

You’re chasing a wonton around your plate, fatigue lining the corners of your mouth.

Yoongi asks, ‘Where do you live?’

‘The other side of town,’ you tell him. ‘Near the financial district.’

‘Fancy,’ Yoongi muses.

‘More than I can afford,’ you say darkly. ‘If this case goes on for a while I’m going to need to move.’

You look up at him. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Close to here,’ Yoongi says.

‘Yeah?’

You put your chopsticks down. ‘I should —-‘

This time, Yoongi interrupts.

‘Do you want to come round for ramen?’

Your eyes meet, and there’s a beat of silence. Then a pulse of connection that sends heat through Yoongi’s veins.

Your knee brushes his under the table.

‘Yeah,’ you answer, deliberate. ‘Fuck, yeah.’

***

Yoongi’s always hated the preamble to a hookup, in his line of work uncertainty is a thing to be avoided.

You work the case until you get an explanation no reasonable person would doubt.

He finds himself waiting, though, now that you’re standing in his apartment.

You’re looking around, and he wonders if his existence seems as lonely on the outside as it feels on the inside.

He’s wondering if you’ve changed your mind, if you really did think he meant ramen, when you reach out and grasp the front of his shirt.

Slip the tips of your fingers just under, hold the placket as you use your other hand to unbutton. Start at his throat, work your way down, slowly.

His skin prickles under the warmth of your fingers.

You lean forward and press a kiss to the base of his neck.

Yoongi reaches up, slides a hand around the nape of your neck, and you tilt your face to his.

Close up, you’re soft.

Yoongi traces your bottom lip with his thumb, and your lips part.

You don’t say anything, though, and that’s ok, because Yoongi thinks you’re as talked out as he is.

It’s been a hell of a fucking day.

You’re kissing his neck again, instead of his mouth, and that’s ok, because this isn’t love, it’s comfort.

A human connection in a day filled with monsters.

Yoongi sighs as your hands slip over his bare chest, round to his back.

He helps you lift your top over your head, admires your breasts, nipples pressing against the fabric of your bra.

He cups the weight of them in his hands, and you moan.

Yoongi’s cock is filling out, and you’re undoing his belt like you want to see for yourself.

You drop to your knees in front of him, press your mouth onto the length of him over his boxer briefs, sigh with pleasure.

‘Not too much,’ Yoongi warns, ‘not if you want me to fuck you.’

You look up at him, hair mussed, a smile curving your lips.

You tug his boxer briefs down, and Yoongi curls a hand around himself so as not to hit you in the face.

‘Just let me —‘

You open your mouth to take him in, and Yoongi groans at the feel of your warmth.

When did he last —

His crown nudges the back of your throat, and you swallow, and he loses his train of thought.

He grabs your shoulder, tugs you up, kisses the smear of his own stickiness at the corner of your mouth.

The light slanting in through the window is hues of gold and orange, filling in the hollows of your face, outlining the curves of your body.

Yoongi has to stop looking at you because he doesn’t want to cry at how much he’s missed being close to someone like this.

‘Where do you want me?’ he asks, voice taut.

‘Anywhere,’ you say. ‘Just turn these fucking lights out.’

***

In the dark, Yoongi’s most enraptured by the warmth of you.

Your skin is smooth, so soft under his hands as he wraps his fingers around the curve of your hips.

His cock glides in and out of the heat between your legs, and your moans are beautiful but what really gets him are the hitches in your breathing as he moves.

He turns you over, onto your back, and you pull him to you. Your mouth opens on his shoulder in what would be a kiss if you weren’t biting down. Your tongue flicks over his bruised skin, an apology.

You haven’t spoken to each other in words in a while but Yoongi doesn’t think either of you need words right now.

At least he doesn’t.

You’re tightening around his cock now, your cries quickening until you gasp his name in a tone that makes him grunt and his hips jerk, taking him deep as he can go.

Even in his pleasure he makes sure not to crush you as he collapses next to you.

Then you’re up, walking over to the window, pulling up the sash, lighting a cigarette without asking if he’s ok with it.

Yoongi admires the outline of your profile against the glass.

‘I needed that,’ you say, taking a drag, hunching a little to blow smoke out of his window.

‘Me too,’ Yoongi says, honestly.

He ties off the condom, gets up to toss it in the trash on top of yesterday’s takeout.

Pours you a glass of water on his way back to bed.

He half expects you to be dressed, and you are, but in his clothes, not your own, an old t-shirt he’d tossed on the chair by the bed yesterday morning before he left for work.

He can’t see your face clearly in the dark. It makes it easy to find his voice.

‘You should stay,’ he says. ‘We can get coffee in the morning.’

You’re quiet. ‘I want to.’

Yoongi climbs into bed, and after a moment you slide in next to him.

Your bodies aren’t touching at all, but somehow having you there with him is enough.

Yoongi means to check on you, but he’s asleep so quickly he doesn’t get a chance to.

***

There’s a basketball hoop set into the wall in the back end of the station, a concrete square with a chain-link fence.

The building opposite is a block of offices, as is the building next to it.

Yoongi makes the shot, and you grab the ball on its first bounce.

You say, ‘Forensics got nothing from Jeon Bogyeol’s shack. He bleached the shit out of the place before he left.’

Yoongi grunts, watches you point and shoot.

He’d read through the file Namjoon gave him on the neighbour - it’s incomplete but she was last seen alive twelve weeks ago in a coastal town.

There’s something niggling at the back of his brain, he’d suggested shooting hoops in the hopes that the activity might shake the thought loose so his conscious mind can make the connection.

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

Namjoon.

‘I’m going up to see Namjoon,’ he says. ‘You coming?’

‘I’ll stay here for a bit,’ you say. ‘I’ll be up in a sec.’

Yoongi shrugs, lets himself back in.

Takes the stairs up to Namjoon’s office on the third floor.

There’s a cleaning cart parked next to the staff kitchen as he rounds the corner.

Yoongi’s about to knock on Namjoon’s door when his scattered thoughts crystallise.

The case file Namjoon had given him had a grainy photo of Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour, the one who’d reported him and then disappeared.

He’s seen her face before, and recently.

Coming out of your office.

‘Fuck,’ he swears.

He grabs his phone out of his pocket, dials your number.

Your phone rings, and rings.

Yoongi takes off, down the stairs, back the way he came.

By the time he bursts out of the back door of the station, gun drawn, his heart’s thumping triple speed, but his hand is steady as he aims it at the man with a knife standing over you.

His finger goes from trigger guard to trigger.

‘Fucking drop it,’ Yoongi warns.

He doesn’t, so Yoongi shoots.

***

Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour who had reported him was called Seo Hyerin.

She was in her early forties, an ex-teacher who he’d coerced into helping him by turning up at her new place even after she’d moved to get away from him.

She’d been too scared to disobey him, but in forcing her to help him, Jeon Bogyeol had given her access to enough information to clinch the case against him.

Once she’d found out he’d been shot and was likely to go straight from hospital to prison, she’d shared all that information with Yoongi and you.

The pieces fell into place so easily there was no need to make any of it fit.

And now Yoongi’s sitting in the kitchen of your apartment, watching as you pack things up.

He’d been right. Your place was fancy.

You were being transferred back to Seoul to finish up, see things through with the case.

He realises you’re looking at him.

‘My new place is a couple hours drive from here,’ you say.

‘Yeah?’ Yoongi says, like he hadn’t already looked it up.

He’d also looked up timed automated cat food dispensers, just because it was one thing to have a neighbour drop in and feed Kenzo if he’s stuck with a case occasionally, but it’s another thing if he’s regularly going to be driving down to see you.

If he’s regularly going to be spending the night away.

It’s uncharacteristic, for him, but he’s hopeful.

‘I slept pretty well that time,’ you say, looking down into your box.

You look up at him, and the curve of your lips makes Yoongi think to himself that he’d like to kiss you, sometime.

‘In your apartment,’ you clarify, like he wouldn’t already know.

‘I make good ramen,’ Yoongi says. ‘I can make it again for you, you know.’

You laugh, and the sound makes Yoongi feel warm.

He realises that he’s smiling.

Fuck, it’s been a while.

#bts fanfiction #bts smut #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi smut

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cer-rata · 25 days

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Fic WIP: “No One Majored In Chemistry"

“...So yes, I’m going to figure out which one of you it was.” Billy growled into his phone as he dodged and weaved through the crowd of other excited freshmen.

Bruce sighed on the other end. “Are you really saying it’s impossible that you could have gotten into a good school without one of us meddling?”

“Gee, I dunno, acceptance and a full-ride scholarship to an ivy league school I didn’t apply to, with no active requirements to keep it up? Because of my AV experience? Room and board included? UPenn has a 6.5% acceptance rate, and again, I didn’t even apply, Bruce!”

A pause. “...It was Diana. Drop out, and she might actually cry.” Then he hung up, because of course he did. Billy groaned.

Fine. It was fine. Maybe superhero nepotism had gotten him into college, maybe that meant some other, more worthy kid didn’t get a shot. He had to balance that guilt with gratitude: Because someone clearly believed in him, and that meant a lot. Ugh, he couldn’t even yell at Diana about it, you can’t just yell at Diana! Why couldn’t it have been Ollie? Half of his job was giving people someone to yell at!

He was so frustrated that he pushed the door to his dorm open way harder than he intended, and it slammed against the wall, startling the boy who had apparently gotten there first. He spun on his heels away from the window where he’d been setting up some figurines and pointed a pair of accusatory finger-guns at Billy. He looked like a Scandinavian dude, with all of the trappings: Tall, broad shoulders, long shiny blond hair, blue eyes as sharp as Tim’s but somehow much less eerie to look at, probably because he wasn’t being possessed by the ghost of a Victorian street urchin.

“Oh! Oh, hey.” He pushed some hair out of his face and flashed Billy a bright smile.

“I recommend this one, Batson.”

Billy paused. He didn’t recognize that voice, who was--Oh no. Oh no, Achilles never said anything unless he was asked a direct question, and even then--OH NO.

The guy cleared his throat. “Um…You’re Billy, right?”

Crap, I missed a dialogue cue! “Uh, yeah, yeah, sorry, weird…weird morning.” Billy quickly propped his suitcase against his bed and walked over to offer the guy a handshake, which was smoothly accepted. Billy wasn’t a little guy, 5”7 was perfectly average, but this guy--wait, what was his name?

“Yeah, totally, it’s been a weird morning. It’s nice to meet you, though! I’m Garth.”

Ah, okay. “Garth” had at least five inches on him, and that, combined with the length of the fingers and width of the palm that consumed his hand served to make average old Billy feel kind of small.

“Me…me too. Um. I mean, it’s nice to also meet you, not that I’m Garth. I don’t know you well enough to decide if I want to steal your identity yet.”

Garth let out a surprised giggle and raised an eyebrow. “...Well, I hope to prove that my credit score is worthy of being ravished.”

His smile made Billy’s eyes sting a little bit, but on a level he wondered if that was a product of every one of the degenerates in his mind (and maybe Solomon) trying to get a look at once.

“Aha, I guess we’ll see!”

Garth shook his head a little and smirked. Then his eyes flicked over to Billy’s bed. “Wait, is that your only bag?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I…don’t like having a ton of clothes.” It was kind of true.

Garth nodded. “Hmm. Fair enough. I’m a little bit of a…well…” He gestured to the pile of clothes on his bed. “...I like shirts.”

"Nothing wrong with that, you seem to be good at…wearing shirts.” What?

“What?”

“I dunno man, I haven’t had any coffee, the prompt was: 'Friendly compliment that is also not weird.'”

Garth laughed again and patted him on the shoulder, and it was at that moment that Billy realized that they’d just been standing in handshake range the entire time. He backed up in the direction of his bed a bit, and Garth took that as a cue to go back to unpacking while he talked.

“I’m from Gotham, my standard for weird is a little warped.”

Billy sat on the edge of his bed and quietly lamented that his feet didn’t reach all the way to the floor. “Gotham is a wild place, yeah. Probably cursed.” Literally cursed, actually.

“Yeah, yeah there’s…yeah. But imma be real, I think Fawcett is much scarier.”

How does he know I’m from Fawcett?

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, that place is a Buzzfeed unsolved video waiting to happen, I mean there’s a reason the Big Red Goober hangs out there so often, right? Magic is spooky, man.”

Billy bit his cheek. “Ah, well, you may have a point, there have been a couple weird things over the years.”

Garth let the silence ride for a beat as he put some sweaters in his closet. “Hey so, big fan of your podcast, by the way.”

Billy chuckled nervously. “How…how do you know about that?”

“How many Billy Batsons can there be?”

“Honestly? A WEIRD number.”

Garth snorted and stretched slightly to get to the top shelf. Achilles noted that his shoulder-to-chest ratio was good for archery (and other things), and Billy tried his best to ignore him. “Either way, I figured you’d be a little more braggy about getting to interview superheroes, that’s kind of good for like, street cred and shit. But I guess being a bit of a shy little guy makes sense, all things considered.”

Billy was about to defend himself against the “little guy” accusations, but Garth turned around and made eye contact again, which derailed him long enough that he lost the window, and Garth continued on.

“So, what’re you majoring in?”

“Mixed media, with a minor in journalism.” For some reason, Billy felt a little self-conscious whenever he told someone, like it was somehow unrealistic, when in reality it had been made abundantly clear to him that the concept of ‘unrealistic’ did not apply to a life like his.

Garth seemed to think it was cool, even. “Oh that’s great! Makes sense, you seem like the type to be good at all of that stuff.”

Billy fought to keep a blush down. “Ah, gee. Um, wh-what about you?”

“Pre-med and Screenwriting. Dual major.”

Billy blinked a couple times. “Wow that--”

“Yeah, yeah I know. I kinda…I kinda applied to both departments and didn’t expect to get into either, so when I got into both I kind of panicked and accepted. So. You know. It’s…I’ll be fine, I’m used to juggling plates.” He brushed some hair out of his face and tucked it behind an ear, and for the first time in the fifteen minutes that Billy had known him, Garth looked a little nervous. Only for a moment though, then it was all smiles again. “Hey, that reminds me actually…”

Billy’s eyes widened as he watched the blond cross their room to sit right next to him on his bed. “Uh, wh--”

“How are we going to do this?”

“Do…what?”

“Oh, I do like it when they’re forward.” Zeus, please!

Garth leaned back on his hands.“I have two stressful majors, my mom has been in AA since before I was born, so no drinking, and I like people. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“Well, theater, medicine, Gotham, parental stress: You’re one rejection letter from turning into a Phantom of the Opera themed, organ-harvesting villain of the week?” Why did I say that!?

He could hear the smug satisfaction in Hermes' voice. “Just a little inspiration, for free. You’re welcome.” AHHHHHHH--

Garth laughed really hard at that one, and any cool vibe he was trying to foster was shattered by the way his cheeks went pink and he snorted. Billy could suddenly see the dork behind the symmetrical features and shiny hair.

“Fuck you! This just means you’re gonna be my first victim, Batson. That kidney?” Billy giggled and leaned away as Garth jabbed a finger right over where his kidney actually was. “Is mine.”

“This is good,” Achilles said, “Generally this is where I’d suggest pulling your shirt up, and enticing him with your wares, but that may be unwise as you’ve neglected your mortal body’s physical integrity, you disappointing, noodly-armed twink--”

“Hey!”

Garth raised an eyebrow and Billy realized with horror that he’d let that one escape.

“Uh--”

“Sorry, just…remembered…a thing--where were you going with that before you claimed my kidney?”

“Oh! Yeah right. So I’m gonna like…be busy, you know? ‘Everybody stares at me, boys, girls, I can't help it, baby--’”

“You did NOT just quote Rent--”

“It’s a good musical! What I’m asking is if you want to like, set up a schedule, or is there a codeword, or do I put a sock on the door, or…you know.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Billy wanted to die. For some reason.

“Oh, uh. I mean yeah I guess you can just text me? But it’s not gonna be--”

“Yeah don’t worry, I’m a considerate guy, I won’t screw you.”

“Wow, Batson, look at that, you’ve already taken yourself off of the table.”

“That’s not what he meant! Wait, shoot--”

“Who are you arguing with?” Garth asked casually.

Billy slowly turned to look back at him. “...Eheh, whaaaat? Sorry, just, my internal monologue sometimes--”

“It was Zeus, right? I know about the Ganymede thing, I figure I’m within his taste range.”

“He’s not wrong.”

A chill shot through Billy and he frowned. “...How do you--”

“Dami' wanted me to be prepared in the event of, and I quote, ‘Billy fucking up badly enough that you end up with a demon trying to crawl up your ass.’ End quote.”

Billy stared at him.

“...When you say ‘Dami'--’”

“The stabbiest Christmas elf, yeah.”

Billy groaned.

#fic wip #shut up cerata #my writing #billy batson #shazam #captain marvel #dc #tkaa au

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marlsswrites · 2 months

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Summer camp AU, part 30!!

July 30th <3

Enter - @jegulus-microfic - words: 1275

First part Previous part

The night sky was a beautiful blossoming colour of dark blue, the stars shone almost as bright as James Potter's eyes right now. The constellations stood out in the sky, it was loud, busy, sweaty - everything Regulus hated. Whenever something got too much, Regulus would just tip his head to the sky and trace the flowing, sharp edged shapes through the sheet of ever dark silk.

Parties weren't exactly Regulus' forte, but there wasn't too many people here, and he knew most of them. Still, it didn't stop him from taking a few breaths, in and out, look up, breathe out.

He nursed a plastic cup of whatever soft drink had been spiked with vodka, he'd taken a cup to quench his thirst, but it smelled far too sweet and tasted like straight vodka with the amount that had been added.

There it is, he admired the sparkling orbs in the sky, the Leo constellation. His star was a part of it, the constellation took the form of a lion. Regal, fierce, brave and loving, people have always told him that the lion reflects his personality, but he's not so sure. A lion to him is sunny, protective, strong yet sweet, sharp yet soft. Doesn't that remind you of someone?

The thought dashed through his head, the singular mention of James that made his mind spiral and his leg bounce up and down as he leant against the cold, wooden wall outside the cabin.

One glimpse of that face, all he needed was that, just to see the brunettes face. On thought, he hadn't seem him in a while, he'd disappeared from the party about an hour ago. None of his friends seemed to notice, or even care. That set off a whole new string of worries in his head, one side of him hissed at him to stay put, to not worry so much, to act normal for once. What if James thinks he's being clingy, what if he's with a girl? Because of course Regulus just wasn't enough, he didn't quite meet the standards that someone had to hold to be with a man such as James Potter.

The other side was screaming at him to go, to find him, to check on him and make sure his James was alright. The thought that he was hurt, pained, upset - anything that wiped that smile away from his gorgeous, light filled face - was something that clearly doesn't deserve to walk this earth.

He took a long swig from his drink, the burning in his throat taking away from the rotten flood that was his mind. Then he pushed himself away from the wall, placed the almost empty cup into one of his friends hands - he doesn't quite recall who - and shot off towards his cabin.

Within enter, he saw James curled up on the bed, book in hand and tired eyes. Normally he has so much energy, he always has smiling cheeks and crinkled, loving eyes. But now those eyes seemed to glaze lazily over the book, his cheeks no longer looking warm, Regulus always imagined they'd be warm under his icy fingers that would trace his skin with touch as light as a shivering ghost.

"James?" He shut the door with a quiet click behind him.

As if in an instant, James' tired eyes, which were now alight with curiosity, lifted up from his book - it was actually Regulus' book - oh god no. That was Regulus' book, the one he'd made notes in, his copy of 'The Song Of Achilles'. He'd made specific notes in the book about James, about how much Achilles reminded him of the brunette. When the two shared their first kiss in the book, the tear wrenching, forbidden, heart breaking love story, he could rant for hours about that is what he longed to have with James.

A sad, beautiful, tragic love affair.

He wanted to be graced with a happy ending, but knowing his luck, he'll get pushed to second choice, like he has been his entire life.

Not quite good enough.

'He's half my soul as the poets say.'

Is he though?

"How much of that have you read?" He managed to get out, surprised that he could even open his mouth in his mortified state. His feet stayed glued to the floor, still light enough to run if he felt the need to. He hovered there, staring at James with such fright in his eyes while the older boy only put the book down slowly and stood from the bed.

He never got an answer from James, the next few moments felt so fast, so quick, so blurred, yet the memory would be tattooed in it's full, beautiful, alluring details behind his wide eyes until the day that he goes to his grave.

Hot lips were pressed against his own parted ones, eyelashes fluttered against his concerningly hot cheeks, warm, raspy breaths broke through his ears and his eyes fluttered shut under the comfort of strong hands curling around his waist and tracing patterns into the bare skin of his waist with skilled fingers.

Regulus reached one hand into his very favourite brunette hair, weaving the soft hair through his almost trembling hands. His other hand came up to the boys now smiling face, oh thank the gods he was smiling, Regulus would burn the entire world down just to keep James looking at him. Just like that, all the time. His perfect hands, the hands that seemed to fit around Regulus' waist like that was their only purpose, to hold Regulus, to protect him, to keep him safe, to touch and feel and love and admire.

His face was warm, flushed and smiling under his sweet touch.

Oh.

He really was just made for Regulus, all of those long lost fantasies he ran over and over in his head came to be true and far better than he could've ever imagined. They really did fit together like jigsaw pieces, two very stark different pieces, yet they fit, and it worked ever so well. Everything was playing through his mind like a movie, everything finally worked his way, he finally got the one thing that he'd ever desired.

His hands looped around James' neck, pulling him closer into him as James' comforting, healing, safe scent surrounded him. The other boy steadied himself as he took a few steps forward, caging Regulus between slightly tattooed, tanned arms and the wooden surface behind his bag.

Tongues collided, breaths mixed, hands fumbled and groans echoed. Both taking breaths for air, but keeping their hands on each other the entire time. One of James' hands always stayed planted on Regulus' waist, gripping onto it as if somebody was going to steal him, as if Regulus wasn't always his.

"I'm yours." Regulus reassured him with a quiet, low whisper.

That was all it took for James to moan, dipping his head back downwards to kiss Regulus, now rough and desperate, needy and lustful - and Regulus loved it. All of the sounds he made, all of the touches and the praise that spilled from James' mouth as they kept within inches of each other.

The same hands that he has always longed to touch him, hooked under his legs, lifting him from the floor as he automatically looped his legs around James' waist, kissing his neck and whispering every sinful thought he had into the other mans ear. While being pulled away from the door and towards the same bed that they would watch movies on every single night, he couldn't help but smile into James' lips as he released a hot, heavy breath.

All of those nights he longed for more, and now he finally had it.

Next and final part

#deep breaths everyone #omg omg omg #everybody stay calm #I did in fact not stay calm while writing this #I was very clearly listening to sad beautiful tragic while writing this #and this love by taylor swift #AHHHHHHHHHH #marauders #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #sunseeker #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #regulus x james #starchaser #writers on tumblr

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supercap2319 · 8 months

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Ikaris x male reader (Greek Mythology Au)

You knew about Ikaris, son of Apollo, by your mistress, Hecate. He was a famous Demigod. Maybe not as famous as Heracles or Achilles, but still famous nonetheless. While other heroes had super strength or invincibility thanks to the Styx, Ikaris had the power to shoot the sun from his eyes.

Hecate said it was a rare gift and if he used it well, Ikaris could prove to be a force for good to Gods, or their enemy. You hoped it was the former. Would be a shame if someone as handsome and as powerful as he would turn out to be an enemy to all of Greece.

You stayed with mistress Hecate in order to control this magic that you possessed that she called ‘the ability to manipulate reality as you wished.’ You didn't care to manipulate reality. This was the job of the Gods, but you did long for love and companionship. Little did you know that you were going to get exactly what you wished for on the night Hecate left to tend to matters elsewhere.

On the night of her leave you had remained in her temple, keeping the hearth warm as you heard the sounds of footsteps of someone. He was dressed in a blue and gold garment that was draped over his chest, but you could still see a trail of hair on his muscular chest. He was even more handsome than you imagined he'd be.

“Forgive my late night intrusion, but I must seek counsel with mistress Hecate.” Ikaris said.

“And why do you seek counsel with my mistress, noble warrior?” You asked.

“I seek her advice on how to defeat a monster that cannot be hurt by the weapons of man. I need her wisdom on what path I should take.”

You walked towards him and away from the hearth as you motioned him to join you in sitting down as you offered him a goblet of wine to drink. “My mistress is the Goddess of crossroads, but she can't tell you which road to take, Lord Ikaris. That is a path you must discover for yourself.”

Ikaris took a drink of the wine and nodded his head. “I suppose you're right. This is the first time that I've felt at a loss. This creature, this lion, is unbeatable.” Ikaris said.

“Have you not tried your power of the sun?” You asked. “It is a very powerful gift. I'm surprised that you had to ask for such guidance.”

“I suppose I just wanted someone to talk to. To believe in me when others have not.”

“Well, for what it's worth my Lord, I do believe in you.” You smiled at him.

Ikaris smiled back. “You are too kind.” He reached out and took your hand into his and kissed it. “Thank you. I shall take my leave now, but I shall return within a day's time.”

“I look forward to it.” You said.

You watched him go underneath the shine of the moon and stars.

Within a day's time, Ikaris returned covered in dirt and blood, but he wore a smile on his face and he wore the golden pelt of the lion on his shoulders. He walked towards you and bowed. “I owe you a debt of gratitude. For I could never have defeated the lion without your guidance. Tell me, what is your name?”

“Y/N.” You say.

“Well, Y/N. These are for your mistress.” He reached into his chiton and revealed the claws of the lion. “And this… is for you.” He slowly walked towards you and pulled you close before kissing you on the lips.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #Ikaris #ikaris x reader #Ikaris x male reader #Richard Madden #Richard Madden x male reader #eternals #Eternals x reader #Greek mythology #alternative universe #son of Apollo #Hecate

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toulousewayne · 2 months

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A Robin’s Quarrel 🏹⚔️

Red Robin X male!reader with a male Amazon.

Summary:Your a male Amazon/Gargareans,who is sent to the Man’s world to find your father Ares and stop him from enslaving humans and killing the Amazons. You need Tim’s help in your quest to stop Ares.

—————

The island of Thalarion was home to a race of men similar to the Amazons, they’re known as Gargareans. Most of the men there are reincarnations of men who had died in battle. Zeus and the other Gods created them to be equal to the Amazons and they’ve lived here for centuries. Many of the men there trained and practiced their skills, none really craved for more than that. Except for one Gargarean, Argus.

He had heard stories of the Goddess blessing the those with gifts of children and families, he loved and would die for his brothers but he longed for something more.

Against his King’s orders he read secret documents and one night during a full harvest moon the island was in a celebration and feast. Argus ventured to a small part of the island and into a cave they long had been abandoned. He made a small offering on the alter and used his blood. He begged and asked the Goddess Artemis for a child. Many of the islands inhabited were adults and returned as such, no male child had been on the island. That night lighting struck the alter sending the man away.

On the alter was a bundle wrapped in red silk, Argus unwrapped it and found a baby boy sleeping peacefully. When he returned to his brothers it caused the festival stop and almost none of them had seen a baby. The king was furious and nearly had Argus killed but several men vouched for him and refused to allow the King to harm him or the child. From then on the child would be look after by the entire island, and the King too grow to like the boy, he was named Y/n.

———-

Y/n was a curious and cheerful boy, he loved learning from his father, watching the men train and learning with the King and his Advisers.

Y/n was trained in combat and was a skilled swordsman and archer. Argus and the King meet several times to discuss the boys futures. By the time Y/n was Eighteen it was determined that he would be the Gargarean’s champion and would go to man’s world to defeat Ares who had long become twisted on his plans of world domination. Y/n was to be sent to stop him like the Amazons had let Diana leave years prior.

“My son,Y/n brings me great join that you will be our champion but I will never be able to be okay without your presence.” Y/n teary eye hugs his father before standing before the King.

“You have brought great joy to this dull island little solider. You will bring great honor to us all and you will be sent where none of us have ever been. Do not forget your training and remember Ares will have spies you must trust your own judgment.” Before he left the king gave armor and weapons.

“This sword was once used to slay the Gorgon Medusa, the Harpe of Perseus. Shield of Achilles. Lastly, this item will be a Lasso of your own.”

“What does it do?” Y/n asked securing it to his armor. The king grinned grimly.

“I hope you never had to use it, but you must go now.” Y/n boarded a boat was pushed from the island by two of the strongest men. He waved goodbye to his father before him and the entire island was covered in smoke and was never seen again.

When he awoke it was nightfall again and he saw a land with large buildings and shining lights.

“Great Hades this place is dark and smells.” Once he touched the dock he draped himself in a cloak and wandering to the street. The people around him gave him strange looks. He wondered around until he heard a loud ringing.

He ventured around the corner until he saw a sea of red and blue light flashing in front of a pantheon like building. Drawing closer he walks inside and heard shouts and loud banging.

He turns the corner to see a man with half his face deformed firing a large gun at a boy closer to his age in red, black, green and yellow colors.

“Why do you flip around so much?” The boy turned to him with shock.

“You gotta go before he—“

The man chuckles,”Brought a friend with ya kid? Too bad the coin says you both get you die tonight.” Two-Face starts shooting at Y/n. Y/n in one swift moment shields the young hero and uses his braces on his forearm to deflect the incoming bullets. Once Two-Face’s has noticed he gets pissed.

“What kinda freak are ya?”

Y/n smiles, I believe that if anyone in this room is a freak it would be you my friend.” Before Two-Face can reply Y/n takes his shield and throws it disarming him, next he takes the lasso and wraps Two-Face up and yanking him up.

“You-“ he’s cut off by Y/n lifting him off the ground and staring up at him.

“Why are you desecrating this building.” The hero wants up and places a hand on Y/n’s braces.

“It’s okay, I can talk him from here.” Y/n looked down at the hero, he nodded before untying Two Face who collapsed to the ground and was swiftly knocked out and hand cuffed.

Red Robin turned to the boy and stopped him before he could leave.

“Thank you, but I had that under control. Who are you?” Y/n eyed him.

“I’m Y/n of Thalarion, I’ve been sent to Man’s world to find and stop Ares. Who are you colorful mortal?”

Red Robin raised a masked brow. “Red Robin,why are you in Gotham?”

Y/n shrugged. “My boat brought me here, I’m sure Ares’ not far from here.” He turns and leaves. Red Robin chases after him and he sees him already across the street pointing a sword at a taxi.

“Are you Ares’ Chariot driver, speak now and I will spare you?” Red Robin swiftly runs to him and pushes him out the road as the taxi driver swears and shouts at the pair.

“Why did you do that, he could have lead me to Ares!” Y/n is angry and it’s only now Tim notices how the young Thalarion towers over him by a foot and a half.

“Look your never gonna find him this way, I have friends. Allies who can help. If you trust me I can help you, but I need you to trust me.” The young Thalarion huffs and calms down.

“If you insist, take me to these friends of yours. My quest is too valuable to wait.” Red Robin sighs and ushers him to follow.

———

The two stand on a rooftop in Gotham City Sqaure and Y/n is taking in the city for the first time.

“Is this where you lived,thigh lights are..breath taking.” Red Robin turns to him and walks to the edge where he’s standing.

“I grew up on the outskirts of the city, but yes every once in a while I do take in the views. Unaware to him Y/n looked at Tim as he was talking and returned his gaze to the city.

“These friends of yours how will they help, do they know where Ares is?” Red Robin looks down at the ground.

“I don’t know, but I think they’ll have more for you to go on.”

“Red Robin.” The pair turn to see Batman and Wonder Woman.

“Great Hera, I didn’t even know there were still Thalarions.” Wonder Woman looked at the boy in shock.

“What is this about Ares returning?” Batman eyed the young Thalarion before.

“I’ve been sent to find him and stop him, Red Robin says you have information. After that’ll be on my way.”

Batman didn’t move and Wonder Woman was slowly regaining her composure. “Yes, and if it’s true and he’s returned they we don’t have much time to prepare.”

“Red Robin and I we will meet with you later. I’ll contact you.” Wonder Woman nodded and turned to Y/n.

“Follow me.” The two flew off Batman looked back at him.

“Where did you find him?” He turned to grapple.

“He found me,he saved me.”

“Hmmm.” Batman grappled towards the city with Red Robin not far behind him.

#Tim drake x male!reader #dc comics #dc universe #red robin #tim drake #Red Robin x male!reader #gotham knights #dc x male reader #dc x reader #batfam #batfamily #dc young justice #Tim Drake x yn

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call-me-strega · 9 months

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How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: part 2 (chapter 1/?)

Here is part 1, lore

Edit: ao3 link now here

They do go to a library in this chapter so there are a lot of references to books in this chapter. I've read some but not all of them so I can say anything about their quality more than as things that I thought sounded interesting in theory. A lot of the stuff at the library was inspired by my own experiences with public libraries.

~~~

Step 2: Get to know them

Within the next 4 months Jason ran into Danny several more times. Each time becoming more and more enamored with the young man. It was hard not to when he saw how kind and hard-working he was.

The first time he ran into Danny after their first meeting he actually ran into Ellie first. Well, technically she ran into him but that's beside the point. But if you were gonna get technical about it he heard her little giggles before he saw her.

He had been at the library during some of his downtime to peruse some books and relax. The life of a vigilante crime lord isn't a very peaceful one, go figure. That's why Jason liked taking some time to himself every once in a while whether it was to have tea with Alfred, hang with one of his friends or siblings, or in this case visit Gotham Public Library.

Sure he could've gone to the Manor Library or gotten something online but the Manor was pretty far from the Alley and preferred having physical copies of his books rather than a computer or tablet. Electronics just didn't have that nostalgic book smell or the soft touch of a well-loved page.

Going to the library also came with its own perks. For one, he got to visit Barbie at work. It was always nice to see her as they had this unspoken solidarity between them. The atmosphere was also a plus. There was just something special about being able to be completely solitary yet still have this special connection to the other patrons. Seeing the old man enjoying a novel with his wife, the book club that met on Sundays, the haggard office worker winding down on the weekend with a graphic novel, the young woman teaching herself sign language, the teens goofing off while they were supposed to be studying, a mom reading The Kissing Hand to her kids, all of the various people here for various reasons; all of it made Jason feel like he was a part of something bigger.

He was currently browsing a display of LGBT+ books for young adults that the library had put up for Pride Month. '"Cemetery Boys", "Aristotle and Dante", "You Should See Me in a Crown", "Six of Crows", "Boyfriend Material", "Red, White, and Royal Blue", "Carry On", Oh- "The Song of Achilles" that sounds interesting?'

That’s when he felt a small chill pass behind him. He initially dismissed it as a draft from the air conditioner, but soon after he heard the sound of excited giggles nearby. He didn't think too much of it assuming it was another kid on their way out of the children's section. However, something niggled in the back of his head that this particular giggle was one he was familiar with.

That's when he felt something collide with his leg. He looked down to see a small child with a head of glossy black hair in a red beanie glomping his leg. Suddenly, the child looked up and beamed at him. Jason's eyes lit up with recognition and he laughed.

" Hey there munchkin, how are you?"

Ellie continued to smile, releasing her hold on his leg.

" I'm doing really good Mr. Jason! Daddy told me he didn't have any work today and he said we could go anywhere we wanted! First, we went to the bodega a got these really big breakfast sandwiches! Like really really big! Like the size of my face and we shared! And then Daddy took me to the park and it was really fun! I saw a squirrel there but it ran away before I could pet it! And then we came here and Daddy said we'd make me a library card so I could get whichever books I wanted. He read Oh The Places You Will Go and Where the Wild Things Are to me and then they were gonna have story time and Daddy looked tired from the park so I told him to read one of his space books and rest while I went to story time like a big girl! When story time was over I looked around and saw you so I came over to say hi and thank you for the cookies and food because daddy says we should always say thank you when people give us gifts!"

Damn, the girl sure had one hell of a motor mouth on her. It seemed she and Danny were in the middle of a father-daughter day. It brought a smile to his face to see that she was well taken care of, but based on her very informative rambles, it seemed they were taking care of each other.

" Why don't we go say hi to your dad, huh Elle?"

The young girl gasped, "That's a great idea! Then Daddy can say thank you too! And then you can read with us and come to our house for dinner! Daddy kept saying how he wanted to make something for you too since you made us the-, the- uuh... luz-on-ya and cookies!"

" Whoa there munchkin, how about we just start with hi?"

Ellie nodded with a determined look on her face, she wrapped her little hand around his pointer finger and pulled him along to the semi-secluded corner of the children's section. Sitting there in an armchair next to a small pile of books was Danny, who seemed to be out cold, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy slipping from his fingers.

'Aah he must be tired from moving in and probably from working too' Jason thought to himself. A smaller voice in the back of his chimed in with its own two cents. ' He still made time for her. He took her out and is spending the whole day with her even though he's tired. He's a good dad.' That's when he made up his mind not to disrupt Danny's nap and let him get some rest before he had to tackle the rest of his father-daughter day with his hyperactive six-year-old. He placed a hand on Ellie's shoulder, stopping her as she was about to shake Danny awake, and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

" It looks like you were right about your dad being tired. How about we let him rest for now and I'll say hi another time? Besides I wouldn't want to interrupt your daddy-daughter day now would I?" He started to guide her to a different portion of the library quickly forming a plan, "Hows' bout we do something I think you'll like? Did you know sometimes they bring puppies and kitties into the library?"

The young girl gasped, " REALLY!"

" Yeah, sometimes puppies and kitties can help people who are feeling sad or nervous feel better. They also help teach kids how to act nicely and quietly so that they don't scare animals by letting them read to a puppy or kitty. I can help you sign up to read to a puppy or kitty today if you want? Then afterward, you can go tell your dad and he'll be really proud of you."

The young girl seemed so excited by the prospect that Jason worried for a second that she might explode.

" That's a great idea Mr. Jason! He'll be so proud of me and he'll bring me again! And I'll get so good at not scaring animals that the squirrels in the park will let me pet them! Then, Daddy will be so impressed that he'll let us get our own puppy and Cujo can come live with us!"

Jason winced, perhaps his plan had been a tad too effective. Single parents had a hard enough time keep themselves afloat while looking after their kids, a pet was extra expenses and another commitment to devote time and effort to. Pets were usually out of budget and out of question for anyone living in or near the Alley.

Well, he'd cross that bridge if he ever got to it. For now, he focused on getting Ellie signed up to read to Charlie, the old St. Bernard that was at the library this today. He and the trainer, he squinted reading her name tag, Amanda, supervised the session. Jason would be lying if he wasn't endeared by the sight of a young girl reading Dragons Love Tacos very enthusiastically to a dog nearly twice her size.

" It's nice to see a young father spending time with his daughter."

'I agree' Jason thought before realizing Amanda thought he was Ellie's dad.

" Oh- ah no I'm her -," Jason quickly made up his mind on the least creepy excuse he could find, " -babysitter. Although, her father does make a lot of effort spend time with her."

The dog trainer flushed and apologized for her mistake but Jason waved her off saying it was no big deal. Silently, he wondered how often Danny got time to himself. When he realized what he was thinking he raised an eyebrow at himself before dismissing it as worry for a young parent and wondering how he divided his time to be able to take such good care of his daughter.

Ellie was saying her final goodbyes to Charlie when he got a text from Alfred reminding him he had promised to meet him for tea and some chitchat. Once Ellie returned to his side he let her know that he had had fun seeing her today but that he had to go spend some time with his granddad and that he'd have to say hi to her dad another time. She accepted this with a surprising amount of maturity for a 6-year-old but made him pinky-promise that he'd definitely spend some time with the both of them next time they saw each other. Jason happily accepted and sent her back off to her dad before heading over to the tea shop he and Alfred liked to meet at.

" It is so nice to see you again Master Jason. I'm happy to see arrive in one piece. Usually when you are delayed it is due to some rather -ah, unfortunate hold-ups," Alfred greeted him. He returned the smile, sinking into his seat across from Alfred, ready to unload.

" Not this time Alfie, though it is a bit of a story."

" One I'm sure you'll be pleased to tell me all about," he challenged, raising an eyebrow. Jason just shook his head and chuckled.

" Sure thing Alfie."

The next time he ran into Danny and Ellie he was at the grocery store.

Jason had been examining a piece of zucchini when he felt a light, cool breeze quickly followed by the sensation of someone walking past him. A lean figure came and stood nearby inspecting the squash. Jason glanced up, having registered a new presence, before doing a double take. A small grin graced his lips as he spoke,

" Well hey there neighbor, didn't expect to see you today."

Danny looked up, slightly startled before he saw that it was Jason. He smiled back and returned his greeting in a warm tone.

" Hey neighbor, I didn't expect to see you either. Honestly, I was hoping we wouldn't meet till I had made a batch of my family's signature fudge to give you as a thank you when we returned your dishes for the food and for looking after Ellie that day in the library."

" Ah~ the little munchkin told you bout that did she?"

" She was pleased to inform me about how she was learning not to scare animals and how Mr. Jason was sooo nice and even pinky promised to spend some more time with her." he teased.

Jason flushed slightly, his hand coming up to the back of his neck,

" Oh yeah, I hope I didn't overstep my bounds there. She just seemed so excited."

" Yeah, that sounds like my little spitfire!" he chuckled fondly. He took a deep breath and continued. " Well if you don't have anything else going on tonight I'd love to have you over. Ellie has really been looking forward to seeing you again and I can whip up some fudge that you can take home with you if you stay for dinner?" Danny seemed to flush at his own forwardness before rushing to continue, " I mean- not that you have to, especially if you're busy! I just- thought it might be nice to get to know my neighbor, especially since Ellie seems to like you so much! But-"

Jason, who had just finished processing the dinner invite, interrupted before Danny spiraled deeper into his nervous rambles. He place a hand on Danny's shoulder to get his attention and spoke,

" Sure. I'd love to come over Danny." He smiled, puffing up his chest, “ Besides, I have a pinky promise to fulfill.”

Danny returned his smile with a laugh, giving Jason's shoulder an embarrassed shove. Jason grinned at having successfully made the other laugh. The two stared at each other for a beat, coming down from their high of making each other laugh, before flushing and looking away. A look of realization passed over Danny's face and he turned to speak to Jason again.

" You probably have your own groceries to finish and put away. How about you come over around 7:30? I can have the fudge cooling in the fridge while we eat, oh which reminds me, you’re not allergic to anything are you?"

Jason smiled back. "7:30 sounds great Danny and no, no allergies as far as I’m aware, though I’m not particularly fond of most shellfish."

“Well alrighty then I’ll see you at 7:30,” Danny confirmed with a smile and rushed off to continue his own shopping.

And that’s how Jason found himself standing outside the Nightingale residence in a casual maroon 3/4 sleeve tee, a dark denim jacket, and some of his nicer trousers with a bouquet of flowers he put a frankly embarrassing amount of thought into. He figured bringing more food wouldn’t be appropriate since he was a dinner guest, dessert wouldn’t fly either as Danny had claimed he’d be making fudge, and wine didn’t seem appropriate with a 6-year-old also in attendance.

‘Come on Jason, it’s just a casual dinner with your neighbors! Normal human interaction, nothing to be nervous about! You can do this!’

Jason took a breath and knocked on the door. He heard a pitched squee followed by a “it’s him daddy!” come from behind the door. Unconsciously, Jason smiled as he heard the door unlocking. As it opened he was met with a cool breeze from within the apartment and the sight of his two neighbors. Danny was in a pale, moss green apron, smudged with what appeared to be powdered sugar, over a pale blue button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and cuffed jeans. Ellie was dressed in an interesting combo of pink crocs, neon green leggings, a sparkly, powder blue tutu, a white shirt with glittery black script declaring her “Daddy’s little princess”, a denim jacket embroidered with flowers and vines on the back and sleeves, and a plastic tiara with a big purple gem in the middle fixed atop her signature red beanie.

“Hi,” Danny greeted a bit breathlessly. His young daughter stood in front of him beaming up at Jason.

“ Mr. Jason you came!” She bounced excitedly on her heels before launching forward to hug his leg. She tugged at his jacket before pointing to her own, “Look! We match!”

With a smile, Jason got down on one knee and offered the flowers to her, “ And what an honor it is to match with such a beautiful princess! Please, accept these flowers as a token of my goodwill m’lady!”

“Thank you!” The girl giggled, accepting the bouquet and scurrying back into the apartment. Jason watched her go with a smile. He then turned his gaze to look up at Danny who watched the whole interaction with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He met Jason’s gaze and smiled.

“Why don’t you come in too my good sir,” he teased, holding out his hand to help Jason up. Jason smirked at the opportunity Danny had unknowingly presented him. He took Danny’s hand but made no move to get up. Instead, he ran his thumb over the other man’s knuckles and slowly brought the hand closer to his face. He glanced up once more, teal eyes connecting to icy blue ones.

“Of course my dear king,” he whispered. His breath dancing over Danny’s hand, his lips ghosting over his knuckles. Maintaining eye contact, the kneeling man placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles, watching a beautiful red flush bloom upon the young man’s face.

‘His hand is cold. His fingers have the beginnings of callouses on them. It feels like his hand was made to fit in mine. This feels right’

Jason is snapped out of his reverie when Danny clears his throat. He coughs into his other hand while trying to hide his blush, averting his eyes in embarrassment. He doesn't withdraw his hand however, allowing Jason to continue to hold it. Jason took that as his sign to get up before this got too awkward.

He rose from the ground still not letting go of the other's hand. The pair stood there for a moment with their hands intertwined, as if a message was being passed through their tingling palms. A charge filled the air with an exhilarating tension. The kind you feel before trying something unfamiliar and new that, unbeknownst to you, will become your favorite.

“So, uh, let’s head in then?” Danny said, slowly withdrawing his hand from Jason’s, almost as if he was reluctant to do so.

“Let’s,” Jason replied and the two turned into the apartment.

Danny had Ellie show Jason to the bathroom so he could wash up as he set the table. He had made grilled squash, a macaroni and beef hotdish, and some Greek salad on the side. The three of them sat at the table making some small talk ( how are they liking it in Gotham, how did the rest of daddy-daughter day go, does Jason have restaurant/activity recommendations, would he like to see Ellie’s favorite model airplane, etc.) and laughing with each other over horrible dad jokes and Ellie’s antics.

Jason could feel his chest fill with an almost unbearable warmth. He would’ve sworn it’d have melted him from the inside out if it hadn’t been accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of joy and desire. The traitorous little whisper in his head returned to comment on how much he’d love to be a part of the Nightingale’s family.

Soon enough it was time for Ellie to head to bed and Jason to head out, lest he be late for patrol.

“Here, I can clear off the table while you put her to bed.”

Danny rushed to stop him despite the young child koala wrapped over his torso. “Oh, you really don’t have to do that. I can-”

“Relax your highness, let me take care of this while you put the princess to bed.” He gave Danny a kind look, hefting up the dirty dishes. Danny returned it with a grateful look and turned to go put his daughter to bed. Over his shoulder, Ellie looked up sleepily and weakly waved one last time saying “Goodnight Mr.Jason” in a small voice.

Jason smiled gently at her and replied, “Goodnight princess.”

He then turned back to his task of clearing the table. Moving the dirty dishes to the sink and the serving dishes to the counter. He figured he’d get started on the dishes while he waited for Danny to return. He let his mind wander as he covered a plate with soapy suds. Danny and Ellie seemed like a good pair of neighbors. He doubted they’d cause him any trouble and if they ever unintentionally did, Jason found himself thinking he’d find it rather easy to forgive them. The two were both so welcoming and full of life. They made Jason feel so happy and peaceful tonight. They welcomed him into their home and made him feel as if they enjoyed his company and wanted him around for more than just a cursory “return the favor” dinner. ‘As If he belongs there. With them.’ The little voice returned, prompting Jason to reel in his thoughts. He’s only known them for what? Two weeks? These weren’t the type of thoughts he should be having at this point. He tried to rationalize it telling himself he just missed the domesticity of family dinners like he had when Catherine was in a good stretch or like he had with Bruce, Dick, and Alfred as kid when they were all getting along. He made up his mind to attend one of the bi-weekly family dinners at the manor coming up. It’d be nice to see the little demon brat, big bird, and nerd bird again now that they were getting along like actual brothers.

“Oh! Jason you didn’t have to do that!” His train of thought broken by Danny rushing over to protest him doing dishes. “You’re a guest! You really didn’t have to-”

“It’s okay Danny, I wanted to,” he reassured the fussing young man who pulled him away from the sink. The young man responded by pushing him out of the kitchen and telling him to grab his jacket before turning back to grab something from the fridge.

And there he stood in the doorway, 20 minutes after he had intended to leave, still saying goodbye. Danny pushed a familiar Tupperware container into his hands, which recognized as the one he had given them lasagna in, now full of dark squares of fudge sprinkled with a bit of white and green on top.

Danny smiled as he handed him the sweets. “A family recipe with my own little twist on it,” he winked. Jason gratefully accepted, wishing the young man well and agreeing that he hoped to see the other again soon. And with that, Jason rushed off hoping that he wouldn’t be late for patrol.

~ Later that night Jason returned to his apartment, exhausted. He chucked his helmet off onto the bed and stumbled to his kitchen. He pulled open the fridge in search of something to eat when his eyes landed on the fudge his neighbor had given him. He pulled it out and grabbed a square, giving it a sniff before biting in. His eyes widened at the taste.

The fudge was, well fudgy, but not overly sweet. It had a richness of dark chocolate and a sweeter note from the white chocolate chips mixed in. There were also candied orange peels mixed into it which gave the fudge a bit of chew and acidity to break up the richness. The fudge was topped with pistachios adding a nutty, earthy flavor to the experience. He’s sure that if Martian Manhunter ever tried these he’d accuse Jason of giving him hard drugs. But what Jason liked most of all was the quality only homemade food and family recipes passed down over generations have. He could practically taste the amount of love and thought that went into this fudge.

Jason smiled to himself finishing off his square and decided the save the rest for later. He headed off to bed with a peaceful smile on his face and a warm, full, feeling in his chest.

~~~

I tried very hard to balance out the dialogue and description as well as to not make it too long winded and keep the story moving so please let me know what you guys think. I love receiving feedback so if there is anything you want to see more or less of let me know. I’m also open to suggestions of where Jason should run into our father-daughter pair next.

If anyone's interested here is what the bouquet was comprised of: apple blossom- preference, basil- good wishes, white camellia- you're adorable, goldenrod- encouragement/good fortune, violets- watchfulness/modesty/faithfulness

I actually looked up a real fudge recipe so that I'd have and easier time describing it. You can find it here: https://www.midwestliving.com/recipe/candy/creamy-rich-pistachio-tangerine-fudge

#long post #like Long long #dead on main #jason todd x danny fenton #dc x dp #How To Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps #How to Become a Step-Dad #hbsd #romance #fluff #domestic fluff #falling in love #single dad!danny fenton #de-aged!dani #books & libraries #family dinner #jason todd #danielle fenton #danny fenton

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popcornforone · 3 months

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Teacher Teaser

A Mr Ben Fan Fic

I always say to myself stop writing Mr Ben, but then i get an idea & bang there is no stopping me. So here we are again, with some naughty Mr Ben. Insipired by the gif I was sent below

Synopsis:- It the hottest day of the year & its to hot to do a thing… except Mr Ben has other ideas.

Word Count:-2200

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Oral sex (both) 69, teasing, swearing, alluding to other sex in the past & still to come. Established relationship. Use of Sir & slight dom vibes at points but Ben isn’t your teacher.

Thanks as always for the read peoples, all feed back is welcome, I hope you enjoy.

Yea that’s the gif that inspired it that I was sent.

It’s too hot to go outside today. You had to run to the shop to get some bits earlier, but by the time you got back to your apartment after a 30 minute trip you were sweeting buckets. So after you’ve but everything in the fridge you go & change into your white floral sundress. Your boobs are sweating too so you decide to remove your bra as well. The aircon hits you as you walk into the lounge. A nice breeze which makes you glad you have this. When your partner joked about buying an apartment that had this, you did think it wasn’t worth it. But now here in the blistering heat, you’re glad he insisted on it. He’s got the aircon on in the second bedroom which you’ve turned into an office as he marks some exams for the end of term. You slowly saunter through to the kitchen & get a long cold iced tea with plenty of ice & an apple to munch on & you make your way back to the lounge. Any chair is at your disposal, but the idea of lying across the sofa seems to be gripping your mind.

You grab your book from the side that you have to pack for when you both go on vacation in a few weeks. It’s too hot to do anything else, a few chapters of this while you wait for Ben to finish his work will be fine. You lie across 3 of the 4 seats on the sofa, your ice tea on the coffee table along with the apple & you see how long the first couple of chapters are.

“Yea I can do this” you say softly to yourself & start to read. You don’t put any music on you can hear some soft pop coming from Bens office which you like, it’s your playlist he’s actually got on, so you sit & read for a little while.

You’re really engrossed in the book that you don’t hear the door to the office open & Ben just stop & stare at you for a few minutes. He’s looking at your silky smooth legs, your knees rubbing as you read. He softly smiles & sighs looking at you being so carefree & relaxed. Your freshly painted blue toes shining on the grey sofa. He’s always loved to rub your feet. He always takes his time talking off your heels after a night out, kissing all the way up every time from your tip toes to your sex. Mumbling how soft your skin is as he goes. It makes you feel so good. He’s looking at the bottom of your feet unable to control himself. He slowly walks to the side of the sofa, kneels on the floor & slowly starts to rub & massage the balls of your feet. You gasp as the sensation & then your eyes widen as you look past your book.

“Ooooh ben”

“Total relaxation baby” he says as he works out the knots in your feet that you didn’t know were there. You bite your bottom lip looking at your man down the other end of the sofa. He’s smiling smugly. Those big brown eyes looking soft & seductive at the same time. “What you reading baby girl” he asks softly, your ankles now receiving a nice caress. When you tore your Achilles a few years ago Ben took extra care of your ankles at that point, that’s how this slow seduction from top to bottom started.

“Sharp Objects” you say, your voice already being effected by him as it turns breathy.

“Weren’t you saving that for our holiday?”

“Yea I was but it’s too hot to do anything at all today, so I thought I’d read a couple of chapters”

“& when you finish it on our trip?” He asks, his large hands now trailing up your shins.

“I’ll read one of the books you’ve got to read for term next year that you always take away with you to read but never get round to”

“I do read them”

“Well you start” you interrupt & pick up your iced tea. A few drops of condensation fall from the glass & hiss on your chest, evaporating in the heat even with the air con. He licks his own lips looking at how hot you are physically & how hot you are to him as you gulp your drink away. “But you never get it finished”

“How can I when you’re lying on a sun lounger next to me in a tiny bikini?” He says as he moves up the sofa. His hands now trail up your thighs. You shiver at such a sensual touch.

“Ben you need to stop”

“Make me” he’s blunt as his hand finds the Lace material of your thong. His eyes full of mischief as he pushes his thumb into the material & then your clit. You moan & almost drop the book, dampening your underwear instantly.

“Fuck ben”

“We will get there beautiful” & he slips a few finger inside your underwear. His precision with his small circles & motions have your thighs shaking, he only does it for about 30seconds but it’s all it takes for your hips to start moving & your legs to start going all unnecessary.

“Ohoooooohhhh”

“You like that beautiful?” You nod in reply then his hands go into your waist band & he peels the thong from your sex. The lace tracing down your thighs & legs. Your body wanting him. It’s not hard to want Ben, he is yours but right now the idea of sensual love making to occupy your afternoon on this hot summers day has you dampening even more. He doesn’t sniff your thong, he gently places on the coffee table next to the apple.

“An apple for your favourite teacher? “ he questions as he takes off his crisp white tshirt. His firm hairy chest makes your legs part instantly. You both know what’s coming. He tuts as he sees your entrance glistening. “Well I may not be your teacher, but I can always…” he hovers over your after he’s crawled onto the sofa.”… give you a lesson…” he then softly plants a kiss on your lips”…in oral” you suddenly feel two fingers slip inside your entrance.

“Fuck Ben”

“I’m sorry?”

“Sir”

“That’s more like it” he starts to pulse them, the friction against you has your thighs pushing together. He smirks before he gives you a much deeper kiss. One that is reserved for intimate moments, his lips taste of coffee & yours are so cold from the iced tea it has him hissing.

“Oooh beautiful” he slides back down towards your entrance & drops his head down. His prize all ready for him. “So ready” his nose rubs against your clit & the book that was in your hand is now dropped to the floor, no bookmark, you’ll have to start from the beginning again a when you get on holiday, not that you care at all right now.

“Mmmmmm” you moan & then pant as his talented tongue licks its first strip. His hands gripping your hips, your own hands want to push him down further but you know if you make it too intense now you’ll be cumming in seconds, & you’ve not worked out if this is just for your pleasure or if this is going to be an entire afternoon on sensual exploits.”yes Ben ooh yes” he then sucks a little too hard & you flinch. “Sorry oooh yes sir”

“Love it when you call me that” he says before he full on burrows his head in your thighs, greedily flicking his tongue in & out of you. His hand grip more & your own lift up your dress so that your hand can get underneath it grasping at your own tender sensitive breasts, desperate for this moment to never stop.

“Fuck, more Ben” you whine, your perfectly manicured nails teasing your nipples make you rhyth more as he gets to work. Ben then looks up & looks at the state of you.

“Fucking beautiful” he moans before going back to his tasting. One hand makes its way to your clit & that’s all it takes for you to move your own hands into his own crazy mop of hair. Pushing him down more. Making him moan with each suck of your succulents. The more he does that the more you move, squeezing his head between your thighs. It’s a never ending circle of pleasure between you both & it’s unlikely to stop.

“Fuck Ben I’m gonna cum” you just about manage to speak between the noises you’ve been making. Your blinking up at the ceiling before you groan his name, your world shattering as you explode in desire. He keeps licking, getting every drop on his mouth, your his sweetest honey.

“Fuck baby” he moans as he lifts his head up & wipes his chin. “That’s always a pleasure to drink from”

“Hmmm” you hum. “Do I get to taste you”

“Depends” he replies, a smug look on his face as he unzips his shorts. “Do you want to the ultimate taste sensation or do you just want some pleasure?” You know what this means. He wants to know if your up for an afternoon of love making which will start off with a very intimate & sensual 69 or if you are to hot & therefore he will just quickly fuck you to get his own release. He can see your eyes contemplating all the scenarios.

“Well Ben… I’ve got nowhere else to be today… or tomorrow” you lick your lips & wink. He smirks & the shorts & boxers come down in one motion as your sit up & slip your dress off. He crawls onto the sofa & shimmys so his head is looking up between your legs, looking up at the mess his mouth just made. He sighs before giving you a slight spank.

“Then let’s make the most of our time, sexy” you respond to his reply & you shimmy down him already moaning as he spreads your cheeks & starts to feast once again on your pussy. Pre cum around his angry head, dripping already as you spit in his length ready to endulge in his own delights.

“Take your time Ben this is going to be a long hot summers afternoon” you lick the tip & swallow what’s already been collected your hands working the shaft. A few more licks before you engulf all of his girth. He always says you have a big mouth with it comes to talking but for oral it has him whingeing at how he just about fits inside.

“Fuck sweetie” he groans before going back to his own tasty delights.

There your two bodies are. Linked together in passion. Every time you come up for air you groan. Your cunt fluttering away as he lick every inch of it inside & out. Your head bobs down to his balls, covering his penis in your saliva. He every now & then when he’s not squeezing or parting your arse cheeks sticks a finger or two inside either hole he desires & it has you spluttering all over him. Your body tensing up grinding your pussy down onto his face. You’re moving at a rhythm you would do for standard sex & you both pant.

“Fuck” Ben growls as he is unexpectedly covered from your climax. You just couldn’t hold on or give him a warning, he was also so lost in the haze of you hunkering down on him. Your licks become rapid. “I’m gonna cum baby I’m gonna fucking cum, shittt” he screamers. He gave you a few seconds of heads up & you were almost at the tip when hot ropes of his sees spill into your mouth. You choke & gag on it & his penis, as his hips judder beneath you. “Fuck baby oooh fuck” he whines as he calms down & you make sure you swallow every last drop of him.

After a few minutes when you both more relaxed you carefully get off the sofa & then get back on him as he is still laying down. You sit just above his lap, on his tummy, looking flustered but in a glow as you look down at Ben. He’s got a smile of mischief on his face.You reach your hand back behind you & start to stroke his length.

“Jesus, baby, I’m not a machine, especially not in this hot weather”

“It’s okay Ben, I just like to feel it all”

“Ooh I know you do” he sits up & pouts. You lean towards him to give him a tender kiss, your hand letting go of his length.

“It is maybe a bit too hot to have a drawn out session”

“Not it we do it properly” Ben replies & you raise an eyebrow. “I think we need to cool off” he says & then nods in the direction of the shower & starts to rub your inner thighs. “Do you want to join me sweetie”

“Hmmm, yea I guess I could do with a nice long shower with no interruptions”

“Baby the only thing that will stop us will be if we run out of water”

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takami-takami · 1 year

Text

Pet Shop.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. fluff.

warnings— gn!reader. you and keigo visit a pet shelter to adopt! so cute!

"What would you think about getting a bird of some kind?"

Walking alongside you beneath the hot of the June sun, Keigo doesn't allow himself to be distracted by the way you tap at your lips, pursed as you think aloud; not for too long, at least.

"You're kidding. Please tell me that was a joke," he whines into your shoulder, mirthful and light to match your satisfied laughter.

When Keigo told you he never had a pet to call his own before, you knew it was about time to take your relationship to the next step. Moving in together months ago was commitment, sure; but you knew bringing a little friend home would be just domestic enough to bite at Keigo's achilles heel, hidden to all but you.

He swats the word family away from creeping up his mind, intent on being completely and utterly normal about this.

The shelter you arrive at is painted a fading shade of steel blue, chips peeling off the sides of the wooden planks; sturdy, but old. Quaint. Though it creaks, the raised porch seems stable enough underfoot, with winding stairs leading down each side. One path leads toward the cobblestone road, another toward a dirt trail you assume is meant for daily walks for dogs. Surrounded by trees and foliage, a little wooden sign by the path reminds, "don't forget your treats and baggies!"

A tinny bell clinks overhead as you both step through the glass door, arm in arm. The door is nearly as creaky as the steps, and just as so, stable enough.

Your eyes meet one half of the elderly couple you quickly figure runs the place; "the better half", she would answer, had you been bold enough to ask.

The woman is tall and speaks like a mouse, a unique match to her stoutly husband. He shouts and startles you from down the hall, over the sound of startled dogs.

"Mildred! The damned bell, someone's at the–"

"Oh, hush, will you," she smoothes down a dusty pink apron as she speaks, trotting her way to the door and pinching the bell to stop its ringing out.

You and Keigo both glance to your left simultaneously when you hear the man grumble in response. He slaps his mop down where the larger dogs paw at metal kennel doors. His voice reminds you of the canines that yelp and bark beside him, you decide; not in an unwelcome way, but in a way that makes your lips quirk with the threat of a smile.

"What can we do you for, darlings," the woman asks.

"We want to adopt," you explain. Keigo shifts on his feet like a child at the way you say we. The way you say adopt.

"We're not sure what we're looking for yet. One suited for apartments, maybe? But we're not picky, as long as they don't tend to chew on..." You glance at the red plumage to your left, then back at her.

The mousy woman eyes the both of you in your youthful excitement, the wide of your doe eyes. She takes a long look of approval at Keigo's golden smile that beams authenticity, even with the slouch of his stance.

"Follow me," she says.

The both of you make your way down the thin hall that seems to stretch on and on, adorned on either side by large plastic windows into cages and habitats. As if to give some privacy, the woman turns her heel as soon as you reach the beginning of the hall's winding carpet.

You catch a look at domesticated animals of all kinds, from the avarage housecat lazing about, to skittish, exotic lizards perched on fake branches.

As you walk, you're able to skim the nametags and descriptions for each critter.

"I'm a family cat with a lot of love to give," one reads.

"Don't tap the glass, or I'll make it the shelter owners' nightmare!" Says another.

While you peruse with each step forward, Keigo's legs suddenly stop at a particularly brazen, sunny yellow cockatiel. It puffs its wings at him with a tilted head— the picture of miniscule dominance, all thirteen inches of it. It hops on its feet as it it were dancing on hot coals, presumably to appear a bit taller than cockatiels are predisposed to be.

Keigo puffs his wingspan back with an audible flap, the tips of his feathers nearly grazing the ceiling. With a regretful squawk, the bird shrinks.

"Kei'! They have ferrets here!"

Once he catches up to you, he places two palms firm on your shoulders, peering over you to get a better look at the two little rascals wrestling below.

"Uh, should we step in, or," Keigo asks with the swish of a hand, watching the tubes of fur scramble over each other with their roughhousing. You kneel to get a closer look, and he quickly follows suit.

"Are they supposed to do be doing that?"

"Yeah! That means they're having fun," you exclaim. "You have to get them in pairs, I've heard. They thrive best with a partner. A lot of people think they can get just one," you hold up a finger, "but if you leave them alone for too long, they get lonely."

Keigo understands. He nods.

While you gleefully watch them play, he rises and takes a step over to a nearby enclosure where two rabbits are having their daily exercise. While the larger one sits and loafs, the smaller seems to be encircling the space with dominance. He leans his arm over the bars, allowing the critter with floppy ears and a patchy coat to hop to his foot and examine his fingers.

"This one kinda looks like you, babe," Keigo calls out over his shoulder, reaching out to smooth the ears down on the thing. By all accounts, a rabbit should cower under the gaze of a hawk, but this one seems to welcome his gentle touch. He tries not dwell on it.

As if on cue to interject his thoughts, the tinny cling of the bell rings and echoes again, causing the dogs to erupt into barks and howls and—

Keigo's ears pick up on a whine.

As if they have a mind of their own, his legs carry him down the hall toward the kennel, past the pristine pelts of alaskan malamutes and german shepards, down toward the edge of the room where the lighting seems to dim.

Curled up near the corner against the concrete, fenced off by a gate, is a rather large, scraggly mutt of a dog. It practically smells of fear, smacking its jaws and keening in its throat.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he soothes as he crouches down, reaching two fingers through the bars. "It's alright, boy. Not gonna hurt'cha..."

The fellow slowly gets up, collar clinking with its hesitant steps and paws making little pap, paps against the chilled floor. While its head raises to allow its watery eyes to meet the golden gaze reflected back, that tail remains pointed downward.

Keigo blinks down, unmoving save for the tilt of his head; and to the creature, he looks unfamiliarily kind.

He can't get the visual of the caged thing running somewhere lush and green and free out of his head. It sniffs his hand, giving a tentative lick and another whine.

"Let's get you home, yeah?"

#tried new things with this one!! it was a lot of fun #🖋 writing #🍧 sugar #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #hawks comfort #mha x reader

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asherthehimbo · 5 months

Text

Listen to my music, listen to your heart

previous | eleven : dinner | m. list | next

notes: warnings, physical abuse, unrealistic academic pressure, cheating acusations, depressive thoughts, disassociating, wounds, whipping(?), grief, the loss of a grandparent, more things probably

wordcount: 3.7 k + 4 screenshots

Staring up at your (not yours anymore, you have to remind yourself) ceiling, you can't help but think of the contrast the plain dark gray ceiling has when held in context to that of your siblings' rooms. Felix's room has a colorful solar system painted over the black base, little specks of white that glow in the dark acting like stars. You vaguely remember painting it with Channie when you were 17 and Felix was 13, days spent carefully stenciling every planet, splattering each other with paint, nights laughing at the days events- You who had recently discovered your soulbond with Channie at the time trying to stop yourself from falling deeper- but failing whenever Channie would look at you with those bright eyes, smile on his face and dimples on full display as if he knew it was your weakness.

Olivia’s ceiling a beautiful baby blue with light clouds painted on it and chains decorated with charms that look like rain and thunder dangling from the ceiling, you remember starting to paint it when you were 18, right before you left for college- you also remember the fact that that was the last time Olivia had actually spoken to you - it was 4 years ago and your heart breaks every day that timespan becomes longer.

Rachel's room, pastel pink as it's always been, ever since she was 15- you painted hers too, you think that was the last time she had acted civil with you, but that's okay. She’s happy now - and that's all you could wish for.

Yet it bothers you, your childhood reflecting the bleak ceiling while your siblings lived a vibrant life, grew up with parents that loved them- everything you had went to them. You even gave up the other half of your soul so that Rachel could live her life, so that Felix could find his other half, so that Olivia could continue to gaze at the clouds.

No matter the regrets you hold, you’d do it all over again, sacrifice yourself for their happiness- for what are you if not a protector? What is your worth to this family if you can not offer yourself up for their joy? For what is the value of a star if it's daytime? What is your value if you can not give them light in the darkness?

You turn your head to look at Soobin asleep next to you, you should probably wake the boy up, people will be arriving in an hour- but Soobin just looks so peaceful.

Your mind drifts to what it would be like waking next to Channie instead, Chan’s puffy lips formed in that cute pout he always has when he's asleep, his hair messy- one hand resting on his exposed stomach as the other cuddling whatever he could find, Chan always slept like that, curling in on himself yet still finding a way to fit you - his Bubbles- into his hold.

Soobin was completely different to Chan, maybe that's why he was the perfect candidate to distract you - but looking at the slightly shorter man asleep, on his side holding the blanket- you think there isn't a place for you here- with Soobin.

You think Soobin knows it too, and your heart breaks because you have this sinking feeling this is the last time. Soobin waking up, looking at you with a wobbly smile and eyes holding back tears solidifies your suspicions, but neither of you bring it up. An agreement started and ended the same way- silently, secretly, with love and tears.

A knock on the door startles you both, as your eyes flick away from one another “Hyung’s? Mom said I needed to come wake you! Rachel just went to pick up Olivia, dads gonna be home in half an hour and the guests are arriving in an hour” Felix’s voice follows the knock. “We’re up lix!” You shout back gently at your younger brother. “Oh! And Fifi is playing with Seungmin and mom in the backyard!” Felix shouts back before you hear him shuffling down the stairs. Leaving you and Soobin to sit on the bed in silence.

The silence in the room is deafening as you two get dressed, after showering and cleaning up it’s about time that Rachel and Olivia should be home and you do not know if you want to break the silence with Soobin, or go down and greet the sister who cowers away from you. Soobin makes that decision for you- he had always been able to read your thoughts.

“You need to do something that makes you happy” Soobin speaks while nodding his head slightly, he's in thought as if it's the answer to a question he’s been pondering for a while, although you can't even begin to comprehend what the question could be. “Excuse me?” you ask softly in an attempt to sound as confused as you feel.

“You should do something that makes you happy [Name], even something small- spend more time with your brother, more time with Chan, find a hobby that is yours and not one your father has chosen out for you. The rage you hold for your father’s actions that contrasts the guilt you feel of hating him is making you numb. You have to admit it yourself, you seem to not have the emotional strength to care for those you love at this point, you’re exhausted [Name], professor Teamin sees it, I see it, Keeho see’s it; and I’m pretty sure Felix is realizing it. You’re burning yourself out” Soobin says softly, he looks at you with those big eyes of his, and you can see the sincerity behind them.

“Even stars have the ability to burn out [Name], but they go out on their own conditions, on their own time- do not dim your own light for those who do not appreciate you. Do not go out before you’ve completed yourself. Find your happiness.” Soobin confirms his words with a sense of finality- as if this is something he’s been waiting to say for a while.

You look down as you place rings on your fingers, you caress the gold one -engraved with a little sun- thats placed on your ring finger- vaguely remembering the fact that it was a gift from Chan- a matching charm he gave you when you went off to college for your first year and he was in his last year of highschool. A promise to stay connected. “And if my happiness takes me away from you?” you ask as tears try to form in your eyes, you force them away. Your voice is trembling, vulnerable in a way Soobin has never heard from you.

“I’ve always known I wasn't your happiness [Name], that much is obvious- your happiness lies somewhere else, with another. I've made peace with that, I'm content with the sense of relief I was able to offer but we both know this, us, was not meant to last. Relief is short lived, and you need to come to terms with the fact that this is a risk you should take.”

It hurts Soobin to let you go, wounds his heart in a way only love can, but he knows that a star cannot be trapped- it is supposed to roam free until its last light. Soobin lets you go because he knows the sense of relief he provides you could never compare to the utter joy in your eye’s with simply just the mention of the other half of your soul.

Soobin knows that in your eyes he can't hold a candle to the admiration you have for Chan- but he’s not angry at that. You can't mix yellow and red then expect purple. You can’t mix Soobin and yourself, then expect forever.

“ I love you, you know that right?” You look at Soobin, he nods his head, a soft smile on his lips ``I know, but you're in love with him and that’s okay.” You open your mouth, about to respond, to tell him that it’s not okay, that you fucked up, that you hurt him and that you hate yourself for it, but the voices downstairs stop you from doing so. “Seem’s your dad and sisters got back at the same time, I guess we should go down.” Soobin supplies and he walks to the door before you, he knows you wouldn't walk first, knows that you need to be pushed.

Knows that if it were up to you, you wouldn't do anything, but Soobin will be damned if he doesn't see you happy and he has a feeling that tonight things are going to change, hopefully for the better. He knows you need to talk to someone who understands, someone you look up too- and luckily enough that person will be here tonight.

You follow Soobin down the stairs, although you’re much less enthusiastic than him, your shoulders are slumped, current posture making you seem much smaller and less secure of yourself. To be fair right now you're not that sure of yourself but still, your father won't accept bad posture.

Once you and Soobin reach the bottom of the stairs you’re met with Rachel “Dad wants you to greet him, he’s in his study” she tells you, her head nodding to the room that's always instilled fear in you. Soobin gives you a wary look but you nod your head down the hall to where the door to the backyard is situated. “Go sit with Felix and Min, I'll be there in a moment” You try to give him a reassuring smile, you know he doesn't fall for it, but he obeys nonetheless. Walking away to the backyard after one last nod.

You turn, about to enter your fathers study that is a little more down the hall, entrance under the stairs, parallel to the living room, before you can take a step Rachel grabs your arm, forcing you to look down at your younger sister. “Listen, I don't know what you have going on with that boytoy of yours, but you better not hurt Chan” she looks at you, her eyes filled with determination, your stomach twists in a odd way as you tilt your head in confusion, you try to defend yourself “Rachel what are you talking about? I would never dream of-”

“I don’t care what you would dream of, I care about Chan, the guy who's been a better older brother to us than you were.” she starts, and damn her words hurt. “I know I wasn't supposed to know he’s your soulmate, but I do and I’ll be damned if I let you hurt him. You bring that guy here for a reason I can't fathom, because you know Chan’s gonna be here tonight. You may have been a deadbeat older brother to us but dont you dare be a deadbeat soulmate to the one person who’s supposed to always be by your side, frankly he doesn’t deserve you-” she’s right, Chan deserves so much better, he deserves a soulmate who could actually be there for him, who could openly express their love, He deserves to love someone who wouldn't put him in danger. “ - I mean you parading your little boyfriend around is practically cheating.” She finishes her sentence as she looks at you in what seems to be disappointment? Resentment? You can't tell.

Something in you snaps, you can understand everything else she said, despite all that you've sacrificed she doesn't know, your siblings don't know why you were almost never there for them and that's fine, if they see you as a deadbeat older brother you don't care, as long as they're safe, but accusing you of cheating? That's low, even for Rachel. She knows it, she knows , she remembers and you hate her for using that against you. The one memory you both share that she knows impacts you to this day.

“Rachel I honestly stopped caring what you think of me-” you didn't, you yearn for her acceptance still, “- but accusing me of cheating is evil and you know it. Me and Channie aren't together, Soobin isnt my boyfriend, So don’t you dare accuse me of cheating when you barely remember what happened that night. You only dream broken shards of that fragile memory, I am the one that has to hold the fragile glass, carry it with me. So insult me all you want but do NOT hold that broken shard against my neck.” You look at Rachel with anger, and she hates it- you never look at her like that, sure she took it a bit far this time, but you always let it slide- why do you choose now of all times to talk back?

“I was simply telling you what I see [Name], no need to start a fight over it, not with Olivia in the house- I don't want her first memory of you being home after so long to be of a fight” Rachel says as if you’re the one in the wrong here. “Firstly, I’m your older brother, it's [Name]-oppa or Oppa-nim, put respect on the fact that I basically raised you when mom couldn't. Secondly, I’m not starting a fight Rachel, you are and don't you dare try and use Olivia against me to justify the situation you started.” You tell her before storming to your fathers study, you're angry, you almost swing the door open- but muscle memory warns you not to.

There's a difference in the way your muscles tense when you're angry, and when you're scared- you feel the shift the moment your hand reaches the handle of the door, you knock, three times in perfect order before you open the door and step inside. Your father is sitting at his study, his eyes are fixed on the papers at his desk, he motions you closer with his hand, not lifting his head to make eye contact.

You walk forward and take in the picture before you. It may have been years since you've been in this room, but you could not escape the memories it brought even if you tried, too many nightmares had been born here, too many dreams had been destroyed for you to not remember it. The room looks exactly the same, only one difference stares at you. On your fathers desk is a picture, in the picture a big man, with silver hair is standing at what seems to be a bar. He has a large, welcoming smile on his face. It's a picture of your paternal grandfather, the only man who gave you solace when you were younger, the man who took you in after the incident you and Rachel had just talked about. You don't notice that your father is now staring at you, you’re too busy staring at the man you've lost long ago- you almost forgot what he looked like.

Your father slams the picture closed, hard. You snap your eyes up to him, “Father” you greet and he nods his head, “You brought them? The students you tutor?” he asks, “Yes, they are currently outside with mother” you respond. “Good” he pauses, “you brought the dog?” he looks at you expectantly. Your father never liked Fifi, you suppose it's because Fifi had never liked him. “Yes, although Fifi is not as young as he was when you first met him father, he’s much more well behaved” You supply. The first time your father met your dog, Fifi was only a few months old but already big in size, he had snarled at your father and probably would have attacked him had you not stopped your dog. “I would expect so, the chemistry contest?”

******abuse warning*****

“I got first place with a 98/100 father” you answer him and you know he’s not going to be happy, “You got two questions wrong?” He raises a brow. “Is the door locked?” he asks as he bends down, opening a drawer in his desk. “Yes father” you look at him, hoping that maybe this time he’ll let it go. “And you know the rule” he states as he stands up, you sigh as you take of your shirt and answer him, “For every mark lost, a scar is the cost” you reply, your voice is devoid of emotion and you think you’re starting to disassociate, you try not to- he doesnt like it when you do that.

“That's correct” Your father walks from his place behind the desk and you see the stick in his hand. It's a weapon he’s had since you were 10, almost like a miniature whip of sorts, it hurts like hell but you're glad he’s chosen this instead of the other alternative, instead of the one that has steel teeth at the ends. You turn your back to him, standing upright- this is the only time your father would allow you to turn your back to him. Purely so that he can admire his work and punish you again.

With every hit to your skin you clench your teeth, if you make a sound, if you falter or fall down the punishment will only be worse, this will all be over soon, you just need to focus on something. Focus, don't go away, don't dissociate, don't falter. You need to focus, you feel yourself slipping away, it's too late.

*****scene over*****

You didn't focus.

By the time you come too you're already sitting at the dinner table, Soobin sitting on your left and Seungmin on your right, you can feel Fifi sitting in between your legs below the table which makes sense. He always did know when you weren't fully there, and refused to leave your side when it happened.

You look around you, realizing everyone had already arrived, your mother and Rachel are conversing with Ms. Bahng to the left, your mother sitting at the one heads of the table, next to Rachel sat Olivia who was animatedly conversing with Hannah who sat opposite her, Lucas would chime in every now and then but he was mostly quiet, you missed Lucas he was a sweet boy.

Beside him, and opposite to you sat Chan, he wasn't looking at you, rather his gaze flicking from Soobin down to his plate, he seemed mad? Sad? some mixture of emotions you couldn’t quite read. Beside Chan sat Yunho, Yunho who despite holding conversation with the fathers at the right end of the table, seemed to be eyeing you worriedly.

Felix sat in between Sengmin and Olivia, talking to both of them with the warmest smile on his face. You felt.. out of place so to speak, seemingly the only one at the table not speaking a word, and the rest of dinner, not that there had been much left seeing as when you focused back in everyone was finishing up, went the same. After all the dishes had been cleared, and a playful fight between you mother, Ms,. Mikealson and Ms. Bahng on who would do the dishes, you follow Yunho outside to the porch, Fifi not far behind you.

You suppose its tradition, after every family dinner you and Yunho would sit here, on the porch gazing out as your little siblings and friends would play, the both of you, the eldest, never joining them. While the picture now is eerily similar to that of your last dinner, you know a lot has changed, Seungmin and Soobin joining the younger ones in the backyard, Jongho not being here, Yunho who's staring at you, because he knows.

Somehow Yunho has always known, you suppose it’s because of the similarities you share. “So Soobin?” his voice is calm as he asks, he’s relaxed into his chair, eyes focused solely on you. You give him a hum of acknowledgement before responding “He told me to do what makes me happy”

“And will you?” he asks, “I don’t know, I don’t even know what makes me happy anymore” You sigh in defeat turning to face your old friend. Despite the fondness you have for Yunho, a certain part of you will always be jealous that he got the love story you didn't. “I think you do, you might not realize it but there are certain things that clearly make you happy, certain people. “

You groan in annoyance, not wanting to have the same conversation of denial over and over, “Not this again, Yunho listen I- “

“No you listen [Name], we may not talk much, but I know you, heck a few months ago I was you. My dad might not be as controlling as yours but I know the feeling. What I saw in there tonight was you completely out of it, the only sign of life would be the way your lips would quirk up at Chan’s voice. When we walked out here the way your eyes followed him, the way your eyes are softening now watching him sit on the swing and look at the stars. You can’t keep denying it, not to me. Not to the person who was always there when you would light up at the slightest bit of attention from him. You can’t deny the way your shoulders would relax and smile would become less strained in the presence of him, Felix and your mother. These little moments of happiness that's helped you survive are keeping you from living. You can’t hide it from me because before I got with Mingi it was me. You need to grasp the thing that makes you want to live.” Yunho cuts you off and he doesn't leave room for you to argue as he stands up and walks further into the yard to join the others.

Tears sting in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall as you stare at Chan, he stares right back. You give him a smile, albeit bittersweet, but a real one, and a tiny wave. His face lights up and he waves back enthusiastically, allowing you to catch sight of the silver band on his ring finger, one that represents his connection to the moon. One that represents his connection to you.

The moon may not be able to live without the sun, but the sun will forever spend its time chasing after the moon. Maybe it’s time you follow the advice of those around you. Maybe it’s time you live.

home page | stray kids masterlist | Soulbound masterlist

Taglist: [9/30][open]: @foxilsdenn @conwunder @heyogg @zzstar @xavi-in-kpopland @idkwhatto-namethis @glitchyaiko @ashersdeadinside @kaisworlds

name in orange/bold means tumblr wont let me tag you

notes: chat do NAWT hold me accountable for how ass my writing is I'm out of practice, also thank Kai for sitting with me when I wrote the begining of this chapter WEEKS ago🙏🏻 ALSO PLS PLS PLS TELL ME WHAT U THINK IN THE COMMENTS OR IN MY INBOX PLEASE I NEED FEEDBACK!!

#smau #stray kids #skz #kpop x male reader #crossover #skz smau #stray kids bang chan #bang chan x male reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan smau #bang chan #Spotify

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mousy-nona · 4 months

Text

Half My Soul (As the Poets Say) 1/?

They called him Menoetiades. They called him Patroclus.

But he knew himself to be Alastor, in this incarnation and in every other.

He was born a prince, among jewels and fur. Here is a little known secret: when a prince is born, he is born with a crown on his head. And even if someone were to throw the crown away, the boy does not forget the weight of it.

A prince is always a prince. His city might cast him out, his father may strike him down and send him away, they could take his title, his wealth, his armies – but they would never be able to drain the blue blood flowing thick in his veins.

And so when his father exiled him to Phthia (you’re a freak! An abomination of nature! I would rather be childless than have a killer for a son!) he went with his head held high. As if his crown still sat heavy in his blood-red hair.

The only thing he’d said to his father before he had left was: no one cared when it was a servant boy.

Menoetius had sneered, but when he turned away from Alastor, there was a glimmer of fear in his eye. Why? Because he feared a man who could kill a prince as easily as he could kill a farmer’s son?

Phthia was rich in soil and boys. Alastor stared eagerly, drinking in the unfamiliar sights, his eyes open so wide they caught the sunlight there like rubies in firelight. His native land had been all shadows, darkness and fog for miles unending. Phthia, on the other hand, was drenched in sunlight. Everything was bright, even the palace itself. It was the home of a hero – the mighty King Peleus, blessed by the gods, who had known Heracles and Jason both – and the stories of his great feats were written in the mosaics on the wall.

As a disgraced ex-prince and a known murderer, Alastor was given a tiny bunk in the darkest corner room, which he shared with six other boys. No matter. Within a week of Alastor’s too-sharp smiles and his jokes about accidentally slipping and falling in the dark as he twirled his knife, the other boys slunk away to sleep in the courtyard, the olive groves, the stables – and Alastor had a room for himself.

The next week he figured out why there were so many boys in Phthia. King Peleus was building himself an army. Every day and sometimes well into the night, they were forced to do drills, run sprints, fire arrows, and – his personal favorite – spar. Alastor found he was particularly skilled with the spear, the sharp point finding its target again and again and again until even his teachers looked a little pale at his deadly accuracy.

He was the best – aside from one.

Achilles.

The first time Alastor saw the Prince of Phthia he thought: so the gods are real after all.

Then he thought: why is he so short?

Achilles was carved from sunlight and grace. He had one foot on the back of a man’s head and one of his arms in a death grip, and he made the awkward move look like a song. His every movement was fluid and quick, more water than man.

But his golden skin, his golden hair, the golden tips of his tunic – that was all divine grace.

Achilles was the son of a king, but he was also the son of the sea, and Alastor shivered at the echoes of Thetis’s power that shimmered just underneath his surface. Alastor’s mouth started watering. The power of a god…what did that feel like? What did it taste like?

He must have made a sound, because Achilles looked up then, and their gazes met.

If Alastor had had a heart, it would have skipped a beat. Red eyes. Just like his own.

“What are you doing?” He asked, cocking his head as he watched Achilles twist the man’s arm as easily as someone might pop the cork from a wineskin.

“Stopping a thief.” Achilles’s voice was soft, almost musical. “This man was taking from my father’s stores.”

“Why don’t you kill him?”

Achilles shrugged. “He doesn’t deserve to die.”

“You’ll let him get away?” Alastor snorted. “So he can tell all his friends back home that Phthia is an easy target?”

The man let out a muffled shout of protest, but was quickly silenced by Alastor’s glare. Achilles huffed.

“They wouldn’t dare. These are my halls. They know who I am.”

“If your reputation is so frightening, why was he able to break in?”

Achilles spluttered, that godly grace broken by human indignation. Alastor smirked.

“What would be your solution then, o’ wise one?” Achilles snorted.

The blur of the knife was too fast for any eye to follow. Anyone other than that of Achilles’, of course. He stepped backwards, smooth and easy, milliseconds before the sharp blade impaled itself in the man’s head.

He glared at Alastor, and a thrill of pleasure went down Alastor’s spine. Pissing off the Prince was fun. “You could have hit me.”

“But I didn’t.” His smile was sharp. “I had to test your famous reputation, didn’t I?”

Achilles scoffed, bent down, and picked up the dead thief. Even though the body was twice his size, he lifted him as if he weighed nothing at all.

Alastor stepped into place next to him. “Where are you going now?”

He sniffed. “To place this man’s body in a shroud until his family can come for him.”

Alastor raised his brow, paused, then started cackling.

“What?” Achilles lurched to a stop, exasperation painting his face. “What is it now?”

“You really are as righteous as the stories say,” Alastor grinned amid peals of laughter. “Achilles.”

The Prince wrinkled his nose. “Don’t call me that.”

“Then what should I call you?” He started counting on his fingers. “Prince of Phthia? Son of Thetis? Aristos Achaion?”

“Lucifer,” was his unexpected answer.

“Lucifer,” Alastor purred. Even then, the first time he said his name, the word came out like a caress. It sounded right on his tongue.

“And yourself?”

Alastor couldn’t tell if he was being polite, or if he actually did want to know. But when he answered him, he gave him his true name, and not the false one. “Alastor.”

That was how he became Lucifer’s shadow; the darkness to his golden light. That was how the threads of the Fates started to spin.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #au greek tragedy #achilles and patroclus #radioapple #duckiedeer #alastor x lucifer #series #the votes are in!

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holylulusworld · 10 months

Text

Caged Bird

Pairing: Michael!Dean x fem!Reader; Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Written for @little-diable’s 15k celebration.

My sentence (#79): "There is no law that gods must be fair" from The Song of Achilles.

Warnings: blood, angst, mentions of characters death, imprisonment, being locked in a cage, mentions of starving someone, implied torture, Michael Dean is the worst, a hint of hope and fluff

Words: 1k+

Your world lies in ruins. Only dust and burned ground are left. Blood is soaking the battleground. Feeding it with the red nectar from the fallen ones.

The leader stands over your broken body. Your hope and wings ripped from your dying body. He smiles down at you, his eyes still the same, but so much colder now.

“Why did you have to do this?” He cocks his head to watch you take your last breaths. “A mere human becoming an angel. This has to end badly.”

“He promised that I’ll be able to defeat you if I give up my human form,” you choke on your blood as your hand reaches out for the man who used to be the love of your life. He swats it away, sneering as a single tear runs down your cheek.

“Father lied,” he stares back at you. His eyes are blue and sparkling now. “God is a good player, isn’t he?”

“Why would he do such a thing? Why would he lie to me?” You whimper as the pain gets unbearable. Your insides feel like your body is on fire while you are shaking from the cold. “God is supposed to be the good guy.”

Michael crouches down next to you to run his hand over your hair. He almost acts like he regrets piercing your heart with his archangel blade.

“There is no law that gods must be fair," he wraps his hand around the sword in your chest. “Your God is a worse monster than all the things you were hunting all your life.”

“A monster,” you choke on your blood. “Just like you.” Your eyes flutter shut. There is no fight left in you. It’s over, and you succumb to the darkness wanting to drag you away.

“I’m not a monster, but your God. A better one,” his fingertips stroke your cheek, and you feel a spark touch your skin. “I’ll make you my perfect little puppet on a string. Dean will be so happy having you around. Won’t he?”

You dare not open your eyes when he removes the sword from your chest. The pain is excruciating. Images of your family, friends, and lastly Dean and you fill your mind.

“So many memories, little human,” he coos and touches your chest. Another spark runs through your body, making you cry out in pain. “I’ll keep you to torture Dean with every single kiss you remember. Maybe I’ll put you in a cage only to let him watch you wither away like a flower.”

You wake up in pain, like most days. Your body is not used to being locked in a small cage. On the other hand, no human being is used to being caged like some animal.

“Look at my favorite pet, Dean,” the monster wearing Dean’s body for prom waltzes into the room, his eyes trained on you in the cage.

You’re too weak to even give him a snarky comment. He didn’t give you food for a few days. Michael likes to test how long you’ll survive without food.

“Sweetheart,” he uses the pet name on purpose, “don’t you want to greet the man you love? Hmm…he has missed you. Right now, he tries to claw his way to the front, but he won’t succeed.”

Michael crouches down in front of the cage. He wants to watch you flinch away, but you won’t give him the satisfaction today. Whatever he has in mind today, you’re too tired and weak to feel the pain.

“Aw, did I finally break you?” Michael unlocks the cage. He reaches out for you to stroke your cheek. The monster smiles as a single tear rolls down your cheek. “I promise, this is not the end.”

You wish his words weren’t true. Every beat of your heart tells you he’s not lying.

“Dean dreams of holding you in his arms again,” Michael easily gets you out of the cage and lifts you into his arms. Your head lolls back, and you hope you’ll lose consciousness before he starts with whatever he planned for you. “I’ll fulfill his wish tonight.”

“Please just kill me,” you breathe against his shoulder. “Please. I can’t…please.” Michael broke the strong woman in you. He won but refuses to show mercy and redeem you.

“I won’t let you go, little bird. It’s so much fun feeling Dean despair every day more…”

Michael smiles widely as you lie on the soft sheets, looking like an angel covered in red.

Your body is littered with cuts from his archangel blade. You can’t whimper or move. He made sure of it.

His hand slides over your torn body to heal the damage he did to you tonight.

“Beautiful yet so broken. Do you want to feel her, Dean?” Michael leans over your body to brush his lips over yours. “I could break her neck or rip her heart out and you cannot stop me. Give in, and I’ll end her life painless and fast.”

“Do it! Kill me,” your eyes snap open, and you grab Michael’s hand on your cheek. “Stop toying with me.”

“There she is,” Michael coos and brushes his thumb over your cheek. “I knew there was still fight left in you. Dean would be so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“You’re a fucking creep,” you spit in his face. “Dean would rip your ass open, you sonofabitch!”

You can’t see it, but Dean stopped fighting Michael’s grip on him for a moment to chuckle at your response. “I’ll get out of here, sweetheart,” he says before fighting Michael again.

“You’re nothing but insects!” You can hear Michael yell outside your prison. There’s a commotion, and then the door flies open. You can see a young woman pierce Michael’s upper arm, and then blinding light fills the room.

“Y/N,” the last thing you recognize is Sam’s voice and the worry in his eyes as he steps toward the cage. “Fuck, Cas, Rowena I need your help.”

Waking up feels different this time. You’re not in pain, and someone gently runs his hand over your hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Dean—” you croak as you struggle to open your eyes. “What a pleasant dream. Please don’t leave me. Stay with me.”

“I’ll stay with you,” he moves closer to press his lips to your temple, “until the very end. I promise to make him suffer for what he’s done to you…”

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #michael!dean x reader #michael!dean #angst #tw: imprisonment #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #caged bird

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babyrdie · 3 months

Note

How is the design of your Thetis?

I actually had already drawn and posted two drawings of Thetis, but I deprived them, so here is she! Inspired by the versions of the myth where Apollo lies to Thetis about her motherhood, because I think Thetis' relationship with the Olympians is too interesting not to explore. Sure, I could have drawn another deity, but I really enjoy drawing my Apollo, so it's Apollo.

He dwelt on my happiness in my children, whose days were to be many and unacquainted with disease; and, comprising all, in triumph-strain that cheered my soul, he praised my lot, blest of the gods. And so I deemed that falsehood sat not upon Phoebus’ lips divine, fraught with the prophet’s art. But he, who raised this song himself, he who himself was present at my marriage-feast, he who himself spake thus, he it is who himself hath slain my son.

Aeschylus' attributed fragments, frag 189 . Translation by Herbert Weir Smyth.

Him did the Bride of Zeus behold, and straight upbraided with exceeding bitter words: "What deed of outrage, Phoebus, hast thou done this day, forgetful of that day whereon to godlike Peleus' spousals gathered all the Immortals? Yea, amidst the feasters thou sangest how Thetis silver-footed left the sea's abysses to be Peleus' bride; and as thou harpedst all earth's children came to hearken, beasts and birds, high craggy hills, rivers, and all deep-shadowed forests came. All this hast thou forgotten, and hast wrought a ruthless deed, hast slain a godlike man, albeit thou with other Gods didst pour the nectar, praying that he might be the son by Thetis given to Peleus. But that prayer hast thou forgotten, favouring the folk of tyrannous Laomedon, whose kine thou keptest. He, a mortal, did despite to thee, the deathless! O, thou art wit-bereft! Thou favourest Troy, thy sufferings all forgot. Thou wretch, and doth thy false heart know not this, what man is an offence, and meriteth suffering, and who is honoured of the Gods? Ever Achilles showed us reverence -- yea, was of our race. Ha, but the punishment of Troy, I ween, shall not be lighter, though Aeacus' son have fallen; for his son right soon shall come from Scyros to the war to help the Argive men, no less in might than was his sire, a bane to many a foe. But thou -- thou for the Trojans dost not care, but for his valour enviedst Peleus' son, seeing he was the mightest of all men. Thou fool! how wilt thou meet the Nereid's eyes, when she shall stand in Zeus' hall midst the Gods, who praised thee once, and loved as her own son?"

Posthomerica, 3.114-150. Translation by A. S. Way.

Thetis's outfit was inspired by Hesiod's description of Pandora's wedding attire in Theogony:

Forthwith he made an evil thing for men as the price of fire; for the very famous Limping God formed of earth the likeness of a shy maiden as the son of Cronos willed. And the goddess bright-eyed Athena girded and clothed her with silvery raiment, and down from her head [575] she spread with her hands an embroidered veil, a wonder to see; and she, Pallas Athena, put about her head lovely garlands, flowers of new-grown herbs. Also she put upon her head a crown of gold which the very famous Limping God made himself [580] and worked with his own hands as a favor to Zeus his father. On it was much curious work, wonderful to see; for of the many creatures which the land and sea rear up, he put most upon it, wonderful things, like living beings with voices: and great beauty shone out from it.

Theogony, 571-584. Translation by Hugh G. Evelyn-White.

As is usual with my water nymphs, she has very pale skin and black eyes. These blues on her skin are not attempts to draw scales, they are simply marks on her skin. It is more accurate to draw her entirely similar to a human since nymphs were like that in mythology rather than the popular modern-day version, which gives them attributes of their domains (characteristics of fish and plants, for example). But I really like the domains version…so I tried to go somewhere in between. I gave her the fin ears, but didn't go any further than that.

Apollo's outfit may be surprising because Apollo in a long dress like that isn't often portrayed in the popular media, but it was inspired by Apollo Citharoedus statues:

Apollo Musagetes. Roman statue, 2nd century AD. See here.

Apollo Citharoedus. Roman version of a Greek original, 5th century BC. See here.

Apollo Barberini. Roman statue, 1st or 2nd century AD. See here.

Apollo is mentioned as part of the wedding choir alongside the muses in a source, so I thought it would make sense to take inspiration from the statues where he is shown with the lyre. In this third statue, he's even leading a choir of muses, which is why he's in movement.

The most beautiful chorus of Muses sang gladly for the Aeacids on Mt. Pelion, and among them Apollo, sweeping the seven-tongued lyre with a golden plectrum, led all types of strains.

Nemean Ode, 5.23-25. Translation by Diane Arnson Svarlien.

His hair having this specific texture was actually accidental. In the first drawing I did of him, this happened because I wanted to get closer to the original that I was redrawing. I decided to keep it because I thought it looked pretty and because it gives a sun rays look for some reason in my opinion.

#Ask #Anon #Request #Thetis #Apollo #Greek Mythology #Greek Gods #Tagamemnon #IK

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smallraindrops-blog · 3 months

Text

Wake Me From This Dreaming

(Part 17)

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings: graphic descriptions of killing of a child, violence, torture, trauma, no beta

Notes: hi! Thank you to everyone for the love and support. It still blows me away with how many people are here with me for this journey. I hope this part was worth the wait.

If you haven’t, please take a look @jun-yng’s lovely artwork! They are so talented. And give @playlistanon’s playlists a listen! Great taste in music!

The Masterlist

A03

Please heed the warnings.

Troy had fallen.

Screams had been quietened, the creaking of wood nothing but an echo now, the soft flap of fabric in the wind, the rush of water from a fountain, the statue of the woman had lost her head among the chaos.

All there was the rosy red arrival of a silent dawn.

You wondered if the taste of ash will ever leave your mouth.

The sound of your name was an odd sound on Pyrrhus’ tongue. A bitter taste of something that should have not been, a different world with different people.

”What is it?” You asked, eyes dry from the harsh smoke. You didn’t bother to look at him. You didn’t want to see your Father in a stranger right now.

“They are dividing up the goods, I thought you would like to know. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on the riches.” Pyrrhus said lightly, stepping into your line of sight. He clasped his hands behind his back, studying the statue with boredom.

You just scoffed. Pyrrhus knew you didn’t care. After all, it wasn’t you that was counting Achilles’ coins, admiring his prizes right up until the final battle.

Pyrrhus rolled his neck, his fingers tightened around his wrist, giving you a quick glance before looking away.

You were careful not to change your expression but you watched him like a hawk. Pyrrhus was a showman, above all else. He reveled in showing off his powerness, especially over others.

Especially over you.

”My father.” Pyrrhus sighed, as if the words caused him a great deal of pain. His blue eyes drifting over to you. “My father was a great man, was he not?”

Every instinct you had was tense, taut like something was pulling at you. You said nothing. Every response that wasn’t a fist to Pyrrhus’ jaw felt like the wrong one.

Pyrrhus narrowed his too blue eyes at you, displeased that you weren’t playing along. His armor had been freshly shined, the bloodbath of the night eased like footprints on the sand. His hair combed and his face washed.

You and almost everyone else were still marked dried blood and pale ashes. In the distance, you heard one of the men calling out the number of bodies.

Hundreds. There was no way to carry all of them back to camp. You sighed. It would have been easier to be among the dead yet you still lived. What would it take for you to die?

“Get on with it, Pyrrhus.” You told him. “What is even the point of this little game of yours?”

“Game? I stand here, trying to speak to… a brother about my father and you dared call it a game?” Pyrrhus gasped as if hurt but you saw the faint upturn of his mouth, the pleasure he took in this.

You were done. “Goodbye, Pyrrhus. If I never see you again, it would be too soon.” You told him, walking away.

Pyrrhus waited for a moment. “At least I made sure my Father’s honor had been made whole once more!”

You waved a hand as if swatting a bothersome fly. You didn’t care about whatever bullshit Pyrrhus was going on about.

“Hector’s bloodline is no more, because of me. What can you even say you did? Nothing, that's what you can say.” Pyrrhus called out, his prideful voice ringing out. That gave you pause.

You knew Hector of Troy had a son.

One far too young to fight.

Not even old enough to walk if you remembered right.

A babe that should be in his mother’s arms right now.

There were some quiet murmurs from nearby warriors, all too aware of a fight brewing in their mist.

Slowly you turned around to face him, studying how the morning light touched his face, casting gold into his red hair. It was like Achilles was standing there, a younger version of him but his expression was wrong, twisted with maliciousness.

“Pyrrhus.” You kept your eyes locked on him, like one would to a snake. “What did you do?”

Pyrhuss jutted his chin out, his eyes cruel as ice. He knew he won this battle, but you didn’t care about the scoreboard like he did. This war might just have been a little game for Pyrrhus, but it wasn’t to you.

Not when you had sacrificed ten years of your life, your damn sanity to it, lost your parents to this damn thing.

“Tell me.” You snarled, your hands tightening into fists. You thought you heard Odysseus from behind you, ordering everyone to calm down as he pushed through the crowd.

Pyrrhus remained silent for once in his goddamn life, his lips curling up into a ugly smile.

You went to him in three quick strides, grabbing him by his chest plate, ruining the shine on it. He didn’t seem to notice, his eyes - the same everblue shade of Achilles- were too focused on you.

“Tell me.” You whispered, dragging him closer to you. You felt hands on your shoulders, tugging at your arms, voices pleading but you remained unmovable as the mountains. More apathetic than the gods themselves were to mortal suffering.

“I found them in the dark, even the king himself, all hiding in Hector’s tomb.” Pyrrhus confessed, a soft lock of his hair fell in front of his face like a scarlet mark. “She wouldn’t let go. Not at first.”

Every word he said felt like a heavy stone upon your soul as if you were Pyrrhus, committing something unspeakable. You couldn’t breathe.

“I took the boy by his ankles. It was easy even with both the damn woman and old man clawing and screaming at me.” Pyrrhus said lightly as if commenting on the weather. Glee bright in his eyes, in the curl of his mouth. “I took the boy and I used him as a club against Priam. Until both of their skulls broke open, their brains matter all over Hector’s gra-“

You didn’t realize you moved that you had head butted Pyrrhus. Hard enough to break bones. Not until you felt a sharp painful jolt in your head.

Pyrrhus was falling back, his men caught him before he landed on the ground, his hands covering his bloody face.

There was a growing wetness between your eyes, blood dripping onto already soaked grounds.

You shrugged off the hands, and the Greeks flinched when you turned around to face them. Odysseus stood there, his hands spread out. He whispered your name, the tone so like Patroclus that it felt like a slap.

”I’m done.” You told him quietly.

Pyrrhus was screaming, howling like a kicked beast. How did this foul creature come from a man like your father? Were you looking at what would have been Achilles’ fate if he and Patroclus never found each other?

Odysseus didn’t spare Pyrrhus a single glance, his dark eyes on you. The king of Ithaca, of rocks and goats, inclined his head in quiet understanding.

With that, you left the last ten years of your life behind. Now all there was left was your parents’ ashes and the fresh blood on your face.

To Hypnos,

I want to apologize

I don’t have the words-

Why did my son do this to you?

(letter from Achilles, never sent)

In the center of Hypnos’s bedchamber, you kicked a few more pillows in place as you reset the landing area- or the nest as Hypnos had taken to calling it.

Hypnos yawned widely as he watched you with heavy eyes. His hair was disheveled, the pale curls sweetly framing his cheeks. And he looked like he was close to falling asleep.

You tried not to frown when you studied him. Hypnos side-eyed you, taking a step back. Really you shouldn’t have found his stubbornness adorable as you did.

“I want to keep trying.” He informed you tartly.

You lifted an eyebrow. “Funny, I think I remember a certain god telling me many times how important rest is.”

Hypnos crossed his arms and you copied him, which only seemed to upset him more. He tossed his hands up. “I thought training more would make everyone happier! Oh look at lazy Hypnos, actually doing something for once! Too bad he can’t even do that!”

You let him have a moment to get his breath back. You stepped over the pillows, meeting him in the center. You took both of his hands into yours, and brought them up to your lips.

Hypnos glanced away, oblivious shame causing his cheeks to flush. He said nothing.

“You know I don’t think that. You have been working so hard, my love. I just want to take care of you like you do for me.” You told him, pressing another kiss on his knuckles.

“I know. I know.” Hypnos closed his eyes. “I will stop after this. I just really want to try one more time.”

“One more time.” You agreed, getting a grateful smile from him. You squeezed his hands before letting go. You took a few steps back, ready to catch him if needed. Hypnos straightened up his back and took a deep breath.

He placed a hand over his chest as he closed his eyes once more, his lips moving silently, the shapes of the words unfamiliar. There was something in his form, an almost warmth to it.

Maybe this time, maybe. Maybe-

Hypnos went still, then he swayed. You caught him in time, lifting him completely off his feet as he slumped against your chest. He was trembling, his fingers unable to curl close.

You immediately took him over the bed, fear creeping into you because you never saw him shake this badly before. Damnit, you shouldn’t have allowed him to push himself so much.

When you laid him down on the bed, Hypnos turned his face away. You checked over the rest of his body, hands gentle as you tried to assure your own mind that Hypnos was okay. Or okay as he could be.

“I’m fine.” Hypnos snapped, rolling on his side, his back facing you as he curled into himself. You resisted the urge to pull him back toward you.

Letting out a breath, you just looked at him. He looked so very small, all alone in the bed. Unable to stand it, you joined him on the bed.

The bed dipped so much that Hypnos ended up against you anyway, and his mostly healed wing fluttered.

You bit back a smile as you traced a line along the delicate limb. The wing fluttered some more before it rested against your fingers.

”It is not you I’m mad at.” Hypnos muttered a few minutes later. The anger from earlier was already unspooling from his body. It left his voice worn out, quiet among the gleaming stars.

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. “I know. But you can be if you want. Yell at me about the pillows or something.”

Hypnos laughed, shaking his head at you. Even when Hypnos was clearly exhausted, it was a lovely sound. One that made you want to grin like a fool.

“I will find something later.” Hypnos promised as he turned around to face you. His irises were darker, cooled to amber. You cupped his cheek, running your thumb along the apple of his cheek.

”Every part of you, Hypnos.” You reminded him in a whisper. His face crumbled and Hypnos closed his lovely eyes.

”I know. I know you do.” He said tearfully. “But I don’t know if I want those parts of myself.”

Your heart broke at that because what in the world could you say to that? Nothing. There was nothing you could say.

So you did the only thing you could do, you pulled him into a tight hug, kissing his forehead. Hypnos wrapped his arms just as tight, holding onto for dear life.

If nothing else, you would happily be his shield against the world. Until he was ready to come out.

(Current)

There was a scream in the far distance, desperate and high.

Hypnos flinched as he turned, trying to find the source as if he couldn’t help himself. You placed your hand on his back, using a gentle force to keep him moving.

It was already going to be bad enough when Hypnos saw the horrors of the prisons. You didn't want him to see the brutality between the shades that haunted the depths of Tartarus.

“We’re almost there.” You told him, scanning the area for threats. However it would seem Zagreus had recently stormed through, leaving most of the rooms emptied save for handfuls of scavengers who fled when they saw you come in.

“I don't know how Meg works in this place.” Hypnos muttered, pressed in closer to you as another shrill cry echoed, only this time it was cut off abruptly. The silence it left behind was deafening.

You had to agree, this place was a miserable pit. The sooner you got Hypnos out of here and back to the house, the better. You eyed the door, hoping this was the one you seeked.

When you walked through, you kept a protective arm in front of Hypnos, scowling darkly at the few shades who lifted their heads. They quickly looked away, metal rattling.

Finally. This must be one of the first levels of the prisons.

Hypnos was looking everywhere, grimacing at the filthy surroundings and tightened his cloak around himself like a shield. His hand went to a spot on his chest, rubbing at it.

it seemed like he didn't realize he was even doing it. You frowned.

“Oh a house guard? And a god?” A man's voice came, and your eyes landed on a giant of a man, taller and wider than you are. He offered you a gentility nod, his blue eyes bright with curiosity.

A large boulder loomed over the room and its occupants.

“Sisyphus.” Hypnos muttered, his mouth formed into a hard line of disgust.

“Just stay behind me.” You ordered as you went to the fallen tyrant. Hypnos grabbed your cloak but didn’t stop you as he followed.

Sisyphus watched with mild interest, as this was a normal occurrence. Although with Zagreus causing havoc, you and Hypnos weren’t all that unusual.

“I remembered you.” Sisyphus greeted. “You and Thanatos tore a warpath here once.”

“I don’t remember you at all.” You said, your eyes flicking over his chains. They were thick, almost like the ones that had bonded Hypnos’ wrist.

Sisyphus laughed at that, “I will take that as a good thing since I was trying to stay out of the way.”

Your finger twitches but you didn’t curl them into fists. The less Sisyphus saw of your own wariness, the better. You kept your face neutral when Sisyphus looked at Hypnos.

”Oh. I must say you look remarkably like a certain someone I knew.“

”I’m his twin.” Hypnos snapped, not able to keep his cool as he moved forward.“I would appreciate it if you didn't speak of my brother like you knew him. Since I don’t know- oh, wait that right- you decided to have the wonderful idea to kidnap and shove him into a dark box.”

“Hypnos.” You warned softly, blocking him from getting near Sisyphus. You completely understood his anger but it wouldn’t help, not now.

“Ah. Forgive me for my casual response.” Sisyphus’ smile dropped. “I must say I heard of you, O’ Sleep. A gentle god if I remember correctly.”

”Not to you.” Hypnos grumbled, stepping back, almost leaning into you.

Sisyphus bowed his head, his smile turned solemn as he looked back at you. “I take it that you have a reason to be here.”

You nodded, wrapping a hand on Hypnos’ elbow to keep him close. Before you could speak, a feminine voice spoke up.

”Yes, I would hope you both have a good reason to be here and disturb my work.” Meg said. Her steps echoed as she came closer, her whip bright in the dim lights. Her catlike eyes watchful on all three of you. Her skin gleamed as if she had freshly come out of the river.

Sisyphus hutched as if trying to make himself smaller. Hypnos gave the shade a glance, the fire in his eyes dying a little. He turned away from Sisyphus, sliding his arm into yours.

”We need to see Pyrrhus.” You informed Megaera.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, as if she wasn’t expecting that response. She looked at Hypnos who nodded, his other hand on his chest. He was rubbing at the same spot again.

“Why? Never mind.” Megaera shook her head, her ponytail flickering like a whip. “I am not having this conversation, not in front of this one.”

Megaera stepped past them and toward Sisyphus, “I thought I told you what would happen if I found you lazing around again.”

“I remember, Lady Megaera.” Sisyphus murmured, his eyes lowered to the floor.

“I will return.” She promised him, her voice dripping with shadows. Hypnos shifted on his feet, still rubbing that same damn spot. You gave him a squeeze of comfort.

Her eyes flickered toward you, a touch of disapproval on her lips. You didn’t know if it was for the show of affection or Hypnos’ troubled expression. You didn’t care, only lifting a cool eyebrow.

Megaera rolled her eyes and gestured for you to follow with a jerk of her chin.

(One day after the fall of Troy.)

It horrified you how quickly ten years can disappear.

Tents were coming down quickly, men yelling as they carried crates of stolen goods, weeping spear brides held each other tightly, many realizing they would likely never see their homes again.

It would take another day or so for everything to be gone but Troy would still be ruins, unable to attack.

You stood in the center of the tent, alone among your parents’ stuff. The carefully tended herbs, the sharpening stone for the spears. The gleam of stolen treasures.

Ten years.

“Master Y/N? You sent for me?” Her soft voice was still nervous after all of these years. You couldn’t blame her. She had seen men like you annihilate whole families. Stole her and her daughter away from the only world they ever knew.

You turned around, “You don’t have to call me that anymore.”

Carina blinked dark, heavy eyes at you. The kind of eyes her daughter had, that Briseis once did. She said nothing, her hands clasped together.

It was an odd relationship that you and her shared. Much like Patroclus once had pleaded for Achilles to help Briseis, Pa asked the same for you to help this woman and her daughter.

Many men their spear brides to bed, often unwilling ones but you never laid a finger on her. And once her daughter was under your protection, she was safe as well.

This would be one last act you could do for them.

Going to the bed, you grabbed the pouch, heavy with gold coins and priceless jewelry. When you went to her, she took a step back and it took her a long moment to take it.

Her eyes went wide at the weight of it, her mouth parted in a soft ‘o’. “I- I don’t…”

“This should be enough for you and your daughter, anywhere you wish.” You whispered, keeping your eyes on hers. She needed to understand what she was carrying. “You still have family? Ones that you can go to?”

She nodded slowly, as if she was in a dream.

“Wait until nightfall.” You continued quietly. “Right now, the men are busy, but they will be drunk the moment dinner begins. Be patient, wait until the last of the fire dies down. Use your common sense, do you understand me?”

“Thank you.” She whispered, tears forming in her eyes. She held the pouch closer to her chest like a babe. “Thank you.”

You grimaced, uncomfortable at the sight of her tears. You would rather face a group of Trojans alone than deal with tears.

“Lad? I need to speak to you.” Odysseus’ voice boomed, and you took a step back.

You smirked with some wry amusement, it would seem the gods sent you someone worse than Trojans to answer your prayer.

Catrina hid the bag quickly, her dark curls hiding her face as Odysseus invited himself in.

Good. She already knew what to do. She and her daughter would survive.

”Ah, I hope I am not interrupting anything?” Odysseus flashed Catrina a charming smile and she shook her head, a pale blush forming on her cheeks. Something about Odysseus just seemed to charm women.

Shame for them, he only seemed to know the name of one.

“You may go, and fetch me a bowl when they start serving.” You ordered with a dismissive flick of your hand. She bowed, and quickly ran out.

Odysseus went to one of the chairs, stretching out his legs to get comfortable.

”By all means, make yourself at home.” You said, grabbing two cups and a pitcher of wine. When you handed Odysseus his drink, he lifted it up with a ‘cheer’ before downing the whole thing.

You only lifted an eyebrow and poured him another cup. “I do hope you are here for a reason then to drink my wine dry?”

With a deep sigh, Odysseus nodded with a grim smile. “I know I am probably telling you something you already know, but Pyrhuss is laying claim to all of it. The ships, the men.”

He paused, waved at everything in the tent, “To this.”

“I can’t say I am surprised, but I thought he would have tried this sooner.” You told him, sipping on your drink, the rich bloom of the wine sour on your tongue.

“Agamemnon plans to honor his claim.” Odysseus said. “Lad, I tried to stop them. They can’t take what you have won but every single coin that belonged to your father…”

You thought for a long moment. The treasure you didn’t care about, hell take the men as well. Less work for Y/N to deal with but the problem was those ships were your way back home.

Was there anything that you even wanted to return to? It wasn’t likely Achilles’ father would let you return to your childhood home. You had no one waiting for your return.

”I came here to make an offer.” Odyessus took off his cap and placed it on his chest. “Join me and my men. My kingdom might not be much, but I can give you a place among my advisers, such a high standing in my court will make sure you are comfortable.”

Then he smiled, his expression softening as he looked beyond you, to someone no longer there. “And you will get to meet my Penelope.”

“The famous lady herself? More lovely than her sister Helen according to you.” You teased, and Odysseus shot you an unamused glance.

“And I would like to thank you for keeping your eyes to yourself. Since I know you would not dare to cast a glance at my wife.” He warned, placing his hat back on.

It was a horrible weakness, one your parents shared with this man, to so easily be affected by a single person. It made you feel a bit of affection for him anyway.

“Give me until sunrise to think about it.” You told him with a nod, although you were already seriously considering it. Your eyes went to your parent’s urn, together once more. You hoped the afterlife was good for them, they were finally resting together.

Odysseus might be a scheming bastard - and there might be a plan that could damn you under those words - but he took care of his men. If Odysseus was being honest right now… then perhaps, you could make use of yourself still.

“Please consider it, lad.” Odysseus said, standing up after stealing himself one more drink. “I always admire how you cared for those under you.”

He paused, “Including spear wives.”

You placed your mostly full cup on the table, narrowing your eyes at him. “Oh?”

“Just something I noticed over the many years of our brotherhood. War does that, you know.” Odysseus promised, his smile innocent.

You and him both knew that was bullshit but you let it go. Just a good reminder of what you were dealing with.

“Sunrise.” You reminded him.

“Sunrise.” Odysseus agreed.

(current)

The place Megaera took them wasn’t much better. It was a damp, cramped room with dozens of looming doors, all leading to places unknown.

The fury placed her hands on her hip, giving you an unimpressed sneer. You knew she was asking why you brought Hypnos here. Tartarus wasn’t a place for gods like Hypnos to wander around as they plead.

You wanted to tell her that you would rather Hypnos was safely tucked away in the house, far away from possible harm.

“Megaera, I really need you to take us to Pyrrhus.” Hypnos said, grimacing at the puddle of green goo on the stone ground.

“And why is that?” Megaera crossed her arms. “If you are here to torture him, it will have to wait because-“

“What? No. Nonono.” Hypnos paused, as if considering something then shook his head hard enough for his mask to slide down. “No.”

“We have questions about Hypnos’ powers, we think he might know something about it.” You informed her as Hypnos fussed with his mask. “We need to speak to him now.”

Megaera tapped the handle of her whip in thought. “I see. I can go to him and handle it. Hypnos, you have a growing paperwork waiting for you so you and Y/N need to go back.”

Then her scowled grew a touch softer. “Besides, I do consider you a friend to me, Hypnos. I don’t think it would do any good to see this.”

“It needs to be me. Or at least I need to be there.” Hypnos said, his tone surprisingly firm. “I am not doing this for kicks, believe me. I don’t want to be here either-”

The last word ended with a squeak as a very small rat ran past and Hypnos nearly jumped into your arms, his hands grabbing at you. You bit back a laugh as you patted his back comfortingly, it would just be mean.

Megaera pitched the spot between her brow, like she couldn't believe this was how her day was going. “Fine. But you are not going to like what you are going to see.”

Her amber eyes narrowed on Hypnos. “I can’t tell you if you will be able to get much out of him. The lack of sleep had taken a toll on him.”

Then Megaera glanced at you, “If a fight breaks out, you will have to deal with it on your own. I already have enough to do without this.”

“I can handle Pyrrhus.” You promised her, your voice just was black with anger as it always was when it came to Achilles’ firstborn. You waited until she broke eye contact, glancing at Hypnos who offered up a nervous smile.

Besides, if Pyrrhus needed a reminder of his place, you would be more than happy to provide it.

You wished you could ease his fears, to wipe away the memory of Pyrrhus’ touch of his skin. Hypnos still had nightmares, and you knew it was always Pyrrhus, of your failure to save him.

Megaera sighed and turned on her heels, opening the door in the farthest corner. The darkness seemed cavorous, waiting like a beast’s black maw to swallow more victims.

She reached for a torch, whispering something to the flames and it grew, illuminating the lines of her face.

Even Megaera’s tall and proud stance seemed weak before it. When she turned and looked back, you nodded. Hypnos grabbed at your bicep, his eyes wide.

“When we go down there, I just need you to- um, I don’t know what is going to happen- so I-“ Hypnos was stumbling over his words. You held up a finger to Megaera as a gesture to wait.

Then you turned yourself and Hypnos away, using your cloak as means of some privacy.

“Whatever you need from me, it is yours.” You told him quietly, lowering your head closer to his. “I won’t let Pyrrhus hurt you if that is what you are afraid of.”

“No- I mean a little bit - but what if we go down there and he won’t tell us anything.” Hypnos gasped out, closing his eyes, his hand over his chest. “Gods, I just have this awful panic in my chest, like my heart is going to fly right out.”

You used your other arm to pull him into a hug, and Hypnos wrapped his arms around you gratefully. You just held him for a long moment before speaking. “If Pyrrhus doesn't have the answers, we will keep searching. We won’t stop. I promise.”

”Are you both done?” Megaera called out, annoyed.

Hypnos sighed, squeezing tightly like you were a beloved teddy bear and you returned it.

When he let go, you dropped your cloak. Hypnos walked toward Megaera, beaming his usual cheerful grin as you followed. “Just discussing the tasteful decor Hades picked out for this place, nothing to fret about.”

Megaera rolled her eyes at him and without another word, she went inside, sinking into the shadows. Hypnos shuddered and glanced toward you, you nodded in quiet support, placing a hand on his back, he stepped in the waiting shadows.

And with that, you followed him into the dark.

(Last night at Troy)

Long after supper, you went to the tomb.

The starlit skies gleamed over the wine-dark ocean. The glowing moon charting her path over mortal lands. The cool breeze brushed against you, but you ignored it as you walked upward on the rocky path.

Safely tucked in your arms was your parents’ urn. It was both the lightest and heavy thing you ever carried. When you arrived, you found a comfortable spot in front of their tomb.

Their names were carved beautifully. You just wished it wasn’t here, it would have been nice to have to visit back home. Another reason to join Odysseus, you suppose. If there was nothing waiting for you, then you might as well go where you please.

”Why are you here?” Her raspy voice was quiet, nearly lost among the waves. You didn’t look at Thetis.

“One last visit before the ships leave.” You told her, placing the urn down.

Thetis said nothing and you weren’t surprised. She never revealed herself to you until after your Father’s death, always demanding your father to meet her alone. It suited you just fine especially with the pained face Pa made whenever she came up in conversations.

With a sigh, the goddess loomed over you, her hair almost brushing against you, her fingers tracing Achilles’ name.

Your eyes flickered over it, but then you shifted around, getting a good look of the remaining tents. Most of the ships were already gone, and the rest will be gone in the morning.

“Pyrhuss had been named Achilles’ true heir.” Thetis remarked coolly, staring down at you with her black eyes. ”That so-called king of men may be a fool but even he will not defy the gods.”

You knew she was waiting for your rage to surge forward, for you to deny it in a childish fit. So you only nodded. You had your parents’ ashes and that would be enough.

It had to be. Because they were beyond your reach now.

Silence reigns over both divine and clay. A gentle wind rushed, playing with Thetis’s long, dark hair.

This high up, you saw everything. You saw the group of men following Pyrrhus into your tent, quickly carrying out the goods. You only gave the sight an unimpressed sigh.

All the gold in the world, all the fastest ships, the most beautiful women, wouldn’t satisfy Pyrrhus.

You almost didn’t see it.

In the darkness, two cloaked figures darted out of the camp, one holding the hand of the other. They rushed into the woods and when no one followed, you let out a sigh of relief.

There was nothing else you could now but hoped the gods would let them arrive safely home.

“Even they don’t want you.” Theist scoffed but her tone gave away her surprise. She knew. Somehow she knew you let them leave.

You finally met her eyes, dark and cold as the sea itself. You wondered how someone golden and bright like your Father came from her womb.

“If you are worried I might fight your grandchild for whatever worthless things he claimed, don’t. He has nothing I want.” You placed a gentle hand on the urn. “I will leave for Ithaca tomorrow and you will not see me ever again.”

Theist said nothing. Then as if exhausted, she joined you on the ground, staring at the tomb. For a long time, you and her sat there, saying nothing.

You wanted to ask if she knew what Pyrrhus had done to Hector’s son. Even she must have turned away when everyone else learned of his horrible actions.

Then you saw him.

His flaming locks were impossible to miss even in the dead of the night. Right behind him, Odysseus was chasing after him but he was steadily falling more behind. The rocks didn’t seem to slow Pyrrhus down at all.

He looked like a fury almost, righteous in his anger. You stood, handing over the urn to Theist. You knew she would not let anything happen to Achilles’ ashes, not even Pyrrhus.

“You.” He snarled like a wild thing, practically spitting as he screamed out your name. “Worthless street mutt! You dared to mix my father’s ashes with that worthless slave!?”

“Pyrrhus.” You warned quietly. “Leave now.”

He bared his teeth, stepping up closer to you. “Make me.”

Until their skulls cracked open-

You forced yourself to breathe, to be the stoney mountain to his storming rage. You would not lose your head, not over him, not anymore.

He laughed, then as if he finally just saw Thetis, his blue eyes widened in shock. His gaze flickered between her unreadable expression and the urn.

“You knew.” He accused in a whisper. His tone caused the unshakable Thetis to flitched as if she was slapped. “This whole time, you knew.”

”It is only ashes now.” Thetis said, her voice was a broken thing. “Your father- my son- belongs to the underworld now. This was the only way for him to get rest.”

Pyrrhus stumbled back, shaking his head in disbelief. He laughed, it was an ugly sound.

Odysseus finally made up, a hand pressed to his side as he wheezed. “I need to work out more.” He muttered.

Then he straightened up, giving a weak grin. “Let all calm down, lads. There had already been enough bloodshed to fill even Ares’ cups, let not add more.”

There was a flicker of guilt in his expression and you narrowed your eyes at him. “You told him, didn’t you?”

Odysseus winced as he tried to laugh it off, but at your scowl, he stopped. “I had my reasons, lad. You weren’t down there-“

Pyrrhus jerked toward Thetis, his hands outstretched toward her, his speed quick as lighting. You moved before you registered it, your hands on his shoulders as you used all of your strength to slam him back down.

He screamed in animalistic rage, his hands grabbing at your legs and you went down with him. Sharp pains jolt through you as you and Pyrrhus both roll down the rocky steps of your parents’ grave, with Pyrrhus still trying to attack you.

Odysseus and Thetis were both screaming, but the words were lost.

You tossed him off of you, sending him farther downhill and he let out a pained groan. You spat out the dirt as you stood and went to him, grabbing his red hair as you pinned him down and you shook him. Hard.

“You are a goddamn fool.” You roared as you slammed him back into the stones once, then over and over. His nails scrabbled at your arms, your face but you ignored it. “If Father knew what you had done to that child, he would have killed you himself!”

Thetis’ fingers dug into you, but not even the goddess was not strong enough to pull you away.

Red blood stained the pale stones but you still didn’t stop. Pyrrhus’s blue eyes- just like Achilles, and it killed you- were going wild in despair as he tried to fight you off.

It would be so easy, just end it here now. All the goods, the men, the ships, the titles would all return back to you.

But you didn’t want any of it.

You just wanted your parents, you wanted Hector’s son to be alive and safe in his mother’s arms, you wanted this war to never have happened.

Killing Pyrhuss wouldn’t bring them back. It would only blacken your soul even more.

So you stopped, letting a horrified Thetis shove you away. You stood up, breathing heavily. Thetis curled over Pyrrhus, muttering comforting words as she tried to stop the bleeding.

Her pale, godly hands were covered in red blood. Just as your ruined, mortal hands were as well.

”Leave.” She hissed at you, her lips quivering. “You have done enough, just leave.”

You didn’t acknowledge her as you turned around to Odysseus, his expression grim as he offered up the urn. You took it, smearing it with fresh blood. You studied it for a long quiet moment.

”Lad?” Odysseus’ hand lifted as if he was going to touch your shoulder but he dropped it a moment later.

”I won’t join you on your journey.” You said, so numb that it felt like another person was speaking. “You put the last thing I care about in this world at risk, they might only be ashes now but they were mine. Just for a little while, they were my parents and they loved me when no one else did.”

Odysseus bowed his head, and you wondered if he was thinking about his own family. “I understand.” His voice was so low, you thought the wind might have stolen it away.

You rubbed your thumb on Patroclus’ name, marking the center with blood. “Odysseus?”

”Yes, lad?” He said quickly, as if he saw a chance of a small redemption in your voice. You glanced up, arresting his dark eyes with yours.

”Give me a horse, any big one will do. And a week worth of food. Tonight.”

At his surprise nod, you began walking down the path. When you passed the limp, but alive body of Pyrrhus, Thetis didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you at all.

Her dark hair was a heavy veil over her and Pyrrhus’ face.

You thought you heard weeping.

To Hypnos,

I still remembered when we first met, you were already your cheerful self in the gloomy house. So unlike my y/n, so grumpy even as a child-

This isn’t how I wanted to-

(letter from Achilles, never sent)

(A stolen moment before a workday.)

The bed was a mess, pillows spilled everywhere but the lovers didn’t care, too wrapped in each other, softly murmuring promises between gasps of reliefs and kisses that devoured.

Later, Hypnos had claimed your shoulder as his pillow, half-awake as he cuddled in close, your hand a solid weight on his hip.

“How far did you go?” Hypnos asked, his fingers caressed the line of your collarbone, writing letters into your skin. You hummed, eyes closed as you just greedily soaked in the softness of his bared body against yours.

“After the war I mean?” Hypnos’ fingers trailed across your chest, your stomach, using your scars like a map.

You finally opened your eyes, meeting Hypnos’ sleepy ones. He blinked at you, his irises were honey gold and languid warmth and it wouldn’t be long before he gave in.

Sometimes you liked that you could tempt the god of sleep himself to try to stay awake just a little longer, just because he wanted to be with you. Maybe that's why you didn’t mind speaking of it.

It seemed like a fair trade.

“I left Troy on horseback.” You said, your voice all gravel. You laid your head back down, staring up at the gleaming stars. Hypnos’ fingers slowed, then stopped over where your heart once had been.

”Chiron was all the way back in Mount Pelion in Thessaly. And I knew the way I spoke would be a dead giveaway that I was one of the invaders. So I went to head down to Miletus, sold the horse and I had just enough to get on a boat to Athens.”

Hypnos propped himself up on his elbow, his cheek on his palm as he listened. His curls had spilled around his face, the sleep mask long lost somewhere in the bed. You reached up and tucked a stray curl behind his ear, letting your fingers linger over his soft skin.

”Eventually I got there.” You went quiet, lost in the memory of Chiron's expression, the way he invited you to join him, he would have tried to keep you safe but you were not willing to risk something happening to Chrion’s children or wife.

Pyrrhus had destroyed enough families, you would not allow Chrion’s to be one of them.

“Then I just moved around, so Pyrrhus couldn’t find me. Spent a lot of time in Sparta, easy money to be made there. Then I ended up in that little fishing town.” You finished, your words trailing off.

”Did you like it there before…?” Hypnos asked, his eyes searching yours. “Or any of those places?”

You shrugged, quiet when you spoke. “It wasn’t home.”

Something cracked in Hypnos’ expression, “And what about now?”

You held his gaze, smiling. “When I am with you, I am always home.”

He chuckled breathlessly, his relieved smile gorgeous as it grew.“Such a way with words.”

Then Hypnos leaned down, brushing a chaste kiss against your mouth. You pressed into it, ready to forget the past and focus on Hypnos. To focus on the good.

(Current)

Somewhere there was a house in chaos, gods and shades looking high and low for a certain god and a missing house guard. Not even Hades’ booming voice seemed to reach their ears.

Zagreus winced as his father yelled once more, rattling the walls. His mother looked exhausted from her hurried journey but she didn’t sit down even when Zagreus tried to offer her a seat.

Both she and Nyx were accepting calls from Olympus. Right now it was Aphrodite nearly howling in grief at Nyx about her beloved doves slamming into walls. Dionysus was in quiet disbelief that his gardens were beyond even Persephone’s help.

Hades stomped toward the administrative room, and Zagreus winced when he heard the booming orders for two pink slips. He still had his papers somewhere in his bedchambers. He would have to speak to his father when he was calmer, Zagreus wasn’t about lose two people who actually make his day a little interesting.

It was the pitch between Than’s eyebrows that made Zagreus go to the training room, grabbing Stygian. Perhaps they were somewhere in the underworld and it wasn’t like they could have gone far.

Zagreus just hoped it had nothing to do with that wretched shade that was Y/N’s brother. Even now, the memories of how empty those eyes were of anything human still made Zagreus shudder.

With a nod toward Skelly, Zagreus leaped into the pit of Tartarus.

(current)

Each door Megaera took you and Hypnos through only seemed darker than the last, shadows clinging to the walls. The darkness was so pure that it was a miracle that the green flames worked at all.

It felt like you were following Hypnos to the center of the world. You knew of the tales of Tartarus going so deep, it hollowed out the earth.

You didn’t believe at first but now a part of you wondered. You eyed the inky shadows that seemed to trail after the group,

Hypnos wrapped the cloak around himself tightly, his mouth thinned out in stress. You saw how his golden eyes lingered on the shadows as if searching for something. Or for someone.

You kept a hand on his back, a show of quiet support. You hated that you couldn’t do more, that he had to be down here at all.

It had been years for all you knew when Megaera finally paused in front of a wall of solid darkness, not even the green light was able to illuminate past it.

“Last chance.” Megarea told Hypnos, her fingers tight around the torch. Hypnos nodded, his golden eyes bright in the dark. Like twin stars.

Your heart ached with how much you loved him, that even the dark, he still shined.

“Lord Erebus! Reveal the door.” Meg called out as she moved the light in a sweeping arc. The green light dimmed then brightened once more.

You heard the hitch in Hypnos’s breathing. The way he leaned forward as if to greet someone.

For a long moment, nothing happened. The silence was becoming a crushing weight.

Then you and everyone else was plunged into the pitch blackness, all of your senses were made redundant, a second death. It was only for a second or maybe for hours then light hit your eyes and you flinched at the sudden pain in your eyes.

Megaera was still standing before you, the torch was gone. so were the shadows.

You immediately checked for Hypnos who was still by your side, rubbing his eyes in annoyance. He blinked at you several times and you resisted the urge to kiss the adorable pout on his face.

You scanned the surroundings only to realize this was merely a new part of Tartarus. Chains dangling from the walls, and when you looked farther out, you saw flaming wheels, with a shade howling and sobbing.

Then your eyes landed on a large, looming golden bull, fresh smoke spilling from the nose.

Realizing what you were seeing, you immediately blocked Hypnos’ view before he glanced over, but his face paled at the sounds.

“Don’t pity them. It will be the both of you soon enough.” Alecto scoffed as she came to join, her wolfish smile grew when a scream abruptly cut off. “I must ask, Megaera, why aren’t they in chains?”

You moved Hypnos behind you with a push of your arm, not liking the way her bloody red eyes lingered on him.

“Alecto.” Megaera warned. “They are not prisoners. They are here to speak to Pyrrhus.”

The sisters shared a glance, a silent conversation between them.

Alecto’s grin only grew more bloodthirsty, more jagged as she looked back at you and Hypnos. “I see.”

Without another word, the fury sisters walked off. It took a gentle nudge from you to get Hypnos to jolt and follow after them. You did your best to block the view from the slaughterhouse but there was nothing you could do for the screams.

“Cover your ears. This won’t help you to hear it.” You ordered quietly, so the furies wouldn’t overhear. Hypnos shot you a glance, looking ready to argue. A sudden wail reached them, some poor soul crying out for their mother.

Hypnos obeyed with a pained grimace.

When you saw shades’ eyes following the group, some lingering on Hypnos, you glared darkly at them, all but baring your teeth. Most of them looked away but a few of them held your hard stare, challenging you even when bound in chains.

“Megarea, how much farther?” You called out. If it was you, you wouldn’t care how damn long it took but Hypnos with his red cloak and pale curls were like a beacon.

“Not much longer.” She replied coolly.

You fought down a growl, and kept a wary eye out, with a tight grip on your spear and the other one on Hypnos’ back.

To Hypnos,

I debated countless times over how I should address my apology to you for my firstborn’s actions. I know what he did could never be forgiven. Or should be.

Of course, I had apologized in person but I felt the need to write this letter anyway. I must have sounded like a rambling fool. Nothing new there, I suppose.

When I was the house guard, I remember how often you were the only one who ever smiled in that gloomy house even when Hades was at his worst.

Then when I got my own lectures from Master Hades, you were the only one to offer me an easy smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder. Or a horrible joke.

I don’t think you knew how much someone acting like a normal person in that house helped me.

Then you gave my son that same cheerful smile and brought him back to us.

I cannot thank you enough for that. I thought after the war, after everything I wouldn’t see him smile that carefree ever again.

There is nothing in the world you couldn’t ask of me. Even Patroclus smiles when you and him trade those books and- and.

…

I am rambling. Again. I don’t think I will send this one. Another one for the pile.

(Letter from Achilles, never sent)

(Current)

The door was simple, with the customary skulls looming overhead, watching with twisted, pained expressions.

“When you both go in, I need to both listen to my orders. No matter what, understood?” Megaera said and didn’t move until both you and Hypnos nodded. Megaera turned to her sister, ordering her to stand guard.

Something that Alecto didn’t appreciate, snapping back at Meg.

Hypnos grabbed your hand, his eyes locked ahead on the door and you gave him a reassuring squeeze, and waited until Hypnos let go first.

“It’s going to be okay. I’ll be by your side.” You whispered and Hypnos let out a shaky breath then nodded.

Alecto groaned loudly and slumped against the wall. She glared at everyone as she crossed her arms. “Fine. Be a bore like you always are.”

Megaera sighed, and began opening the door, going through the locks. Alecto flashed you and Hypnos a toothy grin. You glared at her in warning but that only seemed to delight her.

“Good luck.” Alecto taunted, and you resisted the urge to smack her. Thankfully Meg did it for you, hitting her arm.

The door creak opened, dust spilling out like it was a tomb.

In a way, it was Pyrrhus’ final resting place, left to rot just like you had wanted the moment he touched Hypnos.

The walls were empty, only with cracks and the rustle of rats for company. The floor was covered in grime, the darkness loomed over all the occupants.

Far away, almost tucked in the corner, you saw him. Chained bound his hands and feet, the metal led to a bed behind him. At first, it looked like a heavenly place to rest, soft pillows and blankets.

Then you saw the spikes jutting through everything.

Hypnos inhaled sharply, his eyes on the bed.

The noise must have reached Pyrrhus, lifting his head, face hidden by a curtain of dark red locks. Otherwise, He didn’t move from his slumped position on the wall.

Megaera parted her lips to speak but Hypnos held up a hand. Megaera gave him a surprised glance. He shook his head at her then he began to walk toward Pyrrhus. You jolted, grabbing his elbow but didn’t him pull back.

Hypnos gave you a look, a silent ‘it’s going to be okay’. He smiled, wobbly at first. You breathed out.

It took everything in you to let him go but you stayed a few steps behind. Ready for anything.

“Pyrrhus?” Hypnos called out, moving carefully. His voice was airy, almost kind in the ugliness. “Can you hear me?”

The shade didn’t move until Hypnos stopped just out of reach. His fingers twitched, but otherwise he did nothing.

”Pyrrhus, It’s me. Remember? The god you tried to kill, no biggie.” Hypnos teased, his smile tight. You wanted to grab him, to tuck him safely away in your arms.

Then Pyrrhus shifted, lifting his head up enough that the bloody veil of his hair fell away.

His blue eyes were dull, black circles marked him like bruises. He blinked once, as if he didn’t realize Hypnos was there.

He breathed. Stared.

Then with a swiftness that shouldn’t have been possible, he lunged at Hypnos. You grabbed Hypnos and pulled him away in time. Pyrrhus’ fingers brushed along the hem of his cloak but was unable to grab it.

Pyrrhus sobbed, his broken nails crawling at the ground. Then he began screaming, so loud that it echoed in the room.

Meg moved quickly, shoving him back with a crack of her whip. “Be silent!” She growled and Pyrrhus, to your surprise, went quiet. Whimpering like a broken thing.

Hypnos was breathing heavily, his fingers digging into your arm. “What happened to him?”

“Nothing that he didn’t deserve.” You told him, staring down at him with disgust. Hypnos said nothing back.

Megaera stepped back, her whip coiled at her feet, ready to strike once more.

The shade, the monster known as Pyrrhus, the hero that felled Troy, Achilles’ son and your brother, stared at Hypnos like the god himself held the key to his salvation.

You just prayed you haven’t made another mistake that Hypnos might have to pay for.

#wake me from this dreaming

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