#because even though it was fairly mutual they both want be covered

[unfortunate-arrow]

𝒲𝑒𝑒𝓀𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝓎𝓈 → Day 2: The Welcome Ball 2.0

Event by @endlessly-cursed, who also owns Prim (and Adonis)

8:01 pm

“Mr. Devlin, William. You’re the first to arrive,” Prim exclaims, offering him a smile.

“The ball begins at 8 pm,” William responds.

“You’ve never liked when they tell you an event begins at one time, but the expectation is to arrive later.”

“It makes no sense. Why not just say it begins at the later time?”

“Well, have a nice time. And, save me a dance, I suppose.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“That may be, but as I know you, you’ll leave a third of the way through. Do know, though, that I won’t tolerate anyone saying negative things about you, William.”

His lips quirk up in a half-smile. “You cannot control it all, Prim.”

“Ah, I know. But do try to enjoy yourself.”

“I shall endeavor to enjoy myself tonight. If no one makes mention of our dissolved engagement, then it shall at least be partly successful.” 

“Ah, that farce. Do not remind me, but we are to show that it has not impacted relations between our titles. I still cannot believe how long these legal proceedings are taking.” 

“Yes,” William sighs. “I know.”

9:15 pm

Simon surveys the crush as he makes his way towards the host and hostesses, like a good earl and a good third son. He stops for a word or two with many of his fellow peers, asking him about his opinions on this or that. Not that the words of a teenaged earl mean much to them, but they’ll likely spread the word about the reclusive earl of Wexford’s politics. And be repulsed by most of what he decides to champion, not that he has a seat in Parliament as he’s a peer of Ireland and not one selected to serve in government. 

“Lord Gray. Lady Gray. Miss Gray,” Simon says, offering a quick bow once he approaches the family.

“Lord Wexford. How nice it is for you to attend. We missed you last year,” Lord Gray says.

“Ah, yes. Something came up that could not be ignored. I apologize that my regrets came so late.”

“Don’t worry about it, Wexford. I’m sure that everyone here shall find you infinitely fascinating. The reclusive earl of Wexford, finally showing his face at a society event.”

“You grant me too much intrigue. I am not nearly as interesting as one would think. The rumors have gotten a little out of hand.”

Simon doesn’t know how much the viscount or his daughter knew about the rumors. Well, specifically the horrifying rumor that stated that Simon had been the one to set the fire that had killed his entire family. That one was probably the result of Horace wanting to keep Simon hidden… and probably because Horace was still itching to get his greasy fingers on Simon’s title. Therefore, the fewer people knew Simon, the better, in Horace Dormer’s view.

9:47 pm

Minerva slips through the crowd, ducking beneath arms until she nearly runs smack into Adonis Demiurgos’s back. Her arms fly out, as she steadies herself. In that moment, though, Adonis turns around and Minerva loses whatever balance she had had previously garnered. The momentum has her falling forward, but his arms come forward, landing on her shoulders to steady her. 

“Are you alright, Minerva?” he asks, his hands lingering on her shoulders.

“I’m fine,” Minerva replies, studying his face and appearance. There’s something different about him, but she cannot place what it is. “I was going to say hello to our hostess. My mother would have my head if I breached that protocol.”

“How is your family?”

“They’re good. Ned’s at home dealing with something or other. I didn’t pay attention to what it was. Ned rambles too much for my taste when it comes to that.” 

Adonis laughed softly. “Well, I wouldn’t want your mother to have your head, so I’ll let you go… but before you do, could I get a dance?”

“A dance?”

“Yes, you know, what they do when music plays.”

“I know what a dance is, you clodpole.” 

Adonis shakes his head, a small smile forming on his lips.

10:24 pm

“Thank you for adhering to my wishes about the Gryffindor Lynch boy, Prim,” Niamh says, upon finally having a moment with her fellow Ravenclaw.

“I wouldn't pressure you. I admire your dedication to establishing a career first, Niamh. And, the Lynch brothers both declined, something about other plans,” Prim replies.

“I suppose I’m just lucky that my parents are supportive of my plan and aren’t pressuring me to marry.”

“Yes, I’d say you are. What are your plans? I cannot believe we have never discussed that.”

“My plan is to become an auror.”

“Wow. I wish you the best of luck, but I’m sure this type of conversation will come up again.”

“I suppose it will,” Niamh says. “Also, this has been quite a lovely hall. I must admit, though, that I am a bit out of my depths. A Catholic farm girl from Mayo isn’t necessarily someone you imagine at a hall.”

“Thank you. And you fit in just as well as everyone else, even if you are a Catholic farm girl from Ireland.” 

[greenandsorrow]

I'm really curious about how you think Alastor would handle a deaf sinner (revenge plot gone horribly wrong). The reader is staying at the hotel.. actually, it'll probably be challenging for everyone! Reader (f/gn) can read lips fairly well, but when Alastor does the whole "face made for radio," shtick his mouth doesn't move.. can't be threatened if you dont know what's said. It looks weird, though! Reader uses a phone to communicate mostly due to convenience, doesn't use signs because deafness comes as a bonus with death, also carries a pen but rarely paper so ends up writing notes on arms. Habits that linger from life are low self esteem covered masterfully with sass and sarcasm, humming and singing to themselves, remembering perfect pitches and how they felt to sing, can also match pitch by matching a vibration and drumming or tapping hands when needing to focus or is anxious.

Platonic relationships all round, not looking for romance here, just a place to belong for a bit, familial/sibling ribbing and sass!

I'm sorry in advance if it is a lot, but you do ask for details!

"This face was made for radio."

The Hazbins with a deaf!sinner!reader

You'll never forget the day you landed in Pentagram City. The world around you on mute... It will always stay carved in your memory... the way you had screamed until your throat ached and then had come to the conclusion that even though your voice worked fine, your ability to hear hadn't come with you to the afterlife.

Your sass did save you on multiple occasions that your lack of hearing left you with double the insecurity you carried from your days on Earth. The good news is that, eventually, you learnt to read lips and use your phone to communicate, making your afterlife a bit safer and easier.

However, some -Charlie- would say that your biggest achievement is willingly asking for residence at the "Happy Hotel"! It was a welcoming change to the constant battle of survival, that the streets of the City of the Damned are.

You have your own room and belongings. You have access to food and even made... friends. With your little notepad and pen you scribble your thoughts and answers when interacting with them. In all honesty, you like your new neighbours more than you ever thought you would.

And the feeling is mutual amongst y'all.

You enjoy how Charlie is always putting on a show and how she sings more than she talks. Not only that, but she makes sure to let you know how impressive it is that you can match the rhythm of her songs, by tapping your fingernails on your notepad.

Vaggie makes an effort so you're always safe and that was before you even got close. She's a bit overprotective in your opinion, but then again... kindness in Hell is scarce and more than appreciated.

Seriously though, you're not handicapped, but it's no use explaining it to her.

Even the famous Angel Dust speaks slower when addressing you. Just like Vaggie, he's protective of you. It's rare for Angel to try to not make a fellow sinner uncomfortable.

In a way, the spider demon has adopted you and Niffty, concerning himself with your wellbeing. You want something but don't have your pen on you? He's willing to play pantomime just to make sure he can provide it to you.

And then there's Husk. The bartender is surprisingly gentle when it comes to you. Caution mixed with fondness. He doesn't mind that you speak too loudly in the rare occasions you use your voice. He doesn't mind having to wait for you to write down your jokes. He actually enjoys your company more than he lets on.

Just a detail, you became part of the crew around the same time Sir Pentious did. Consequently, in the beginning you two kind of stuck together, both seen as newbies.

You're so grateful for how he still washes your arms from the ink of your trusty pen.

To put it into a few words, all families are colorful and yours is no exception. Dysfunctions, disagreements and some sappiness are all part of your every day life. But the Hazbin Hotel has become your home and that's all that matters.

Noticed how I overlooked a very special sinner??

Yep. That's right. Alastor.

The radio demon didn't pay you much attention when you first moved in. You have come to the conclusion that your lack of hearing just underwhelmed him.

He's the radio demon. Sound is his weapon and you're immune to it.

Obviously, his animated personality didn't go unnoticed to your observant eyes. Still, the old radio effect of his voice, the static he produces and all those flamboyant aspects of him are thrown out of the window when it comes to you.

He can't intimidate you. Not that he's tried. Not yet.

You have kept to yourself and maybe even subconsciously avoided him during your settlement in the hotel. It's not out of fear. But what fun is a fellow sinner that speaks more than he moves his mouth? Thank Lucifer he's expressive, otherwise he'd be muter to you than you're to yourself.

And that permanent grin doesn't help either. You've discreetly been relying on his shadow's expressions to make out what's going on in his antlered head.

Today is no different.

He's just stranding there. Black cane, an ignorant and simultaneously arrogant aura, the same infuriating smile and Pentious's egg-bois around him.

Meanwhile, you're sitting in the lounge, inspecting a very 2000's looking camera. It's a way to kill time, watching your surroundings through the lens. At some point the camera lands on Alastor's figure.

It immediately starts glitching.

You burrow your eyebrows in confusion. When you look again, Alastor isn't where he was a few seconds ago.

You sigh.

"What do you think you're doing there, dear?"

Silence. No reaction. You keep looking through the camera at the place Alastor occupied just a few moments ago.

Alastor narrows his eyes. He's standing almost next to you.

But of course you didn't hear him.

The intensified static in his voice... wasted.

He clears his throat loudly, but to no avail.

Eventually, he gives in and taps your shoulder. You blink, lowering the camera to your lap and looking up at him, head slightly tilted.

Taking in your expression, Alastor secretly enjoys the animated scrunch of your brows, a clear indication of confusion.

He's not saying anything, so you shrug to yourself and absentmindedly focus the camera on him once more.

Alastor's eyes narrow with a sadistic glee as the camera suddenly breaks, fume coming out of it, the lens now cracked. You drop it, a bit startled but not on the degree he was hoping.

You don't bother standing up but you do glare at him in exasperation.

"Well, well... Aren't you a brave one?"

Finally! Something you can make out coming from his razor sharp jaws.

You pop the lid off your pen, but before you have time to write "What's that supposed to mean?" on your arm, he has already dimmed the lights and leaned down so he's at eye level with you.

"Let me tell you something while we're at it."

His neck bends unnaturally and his eyes turn black. It's not exactly a sight to enjoy, but it doesn't matter since you're too focused on trying to read his lips.

"This face was made f......"

For?

For what?

What could it have been made for?

His mouth stopped pronouncing the words before the sentence was finished, so it's not your fault that you're chuckling now.

Alastor's chest literally deflates at your reaction.

His ears droop.

It wasn't even full on laughter but his pride took a big hit.

While he's frozen in shock at your lack of fear, you finally scribble down at the back of your hand "Was made for what?"

You extend your hand for him to read with an apologetic gaze. He does look kind of wounded.

Alastor takes in your words and accepts that you didn't laugh at him on purpose. Not to humiliate him at least.

Placing a gloved finger under your chin, he makes you look at his face before speaking slowly, moving his lips almost comically.

"This face was made for ra- di- o."

You let out an "oh" of realization.

Your eyes have a new light of interest in them as you write down your answer.

"I used to listen to that, when I was alive."

"Mhm, that's a pleasant piece of information my dear!"

From that day on, every time before he broadcasts, he makes sure to give you his notes to read, even making them more elaborate just for you.

For him, the only downside of your loss of hearing is not being able to enjoy his radio show.

At least you now get along.

Hazbin Hotel masterlist ❤️

Tips are highly appreciated! (PayPal)

Shout-out to @buggieluv79 for helping me with the deaf POV 💌 I also want to point out the fact that the wonderful being that made this request is both kind and patient, having waited three months for me to write this and supporting me in the process❣️

I'm open to writing for a deaf!reader again, whether you want it to be the same person we met in this fic or a different one. (Wait till reqs open again please!)

[leewritestoomuch]

Hiii (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I see that u r accepting nsfw asks🫶

So can I request an Ukyo x reader where the reader is touching theirself then ukyo hears them and helps them??

It's okay if you don't want to do this tho 🥲

hiiii thank you for the request! I’ll totally write this!

So sorry, I’m going to assume fem! Reader. Do let me know if you wanted otherwise.

Warnings: Masturbation, Oral (Fem! Receiving)

He couldn’t help it. His ears were too sensitive. Too sensitive to not notice the slick sounds of what he can only assume is the pad of your finger teasing yourself. Too sensitive to not notice the sound of a finger sliding in, then back out with a slick “pop!”

Too sensitive to not notice the way your breath hitches as quiet squelches leak out from behind your bedroom door, if you could even call it that.

You had assumed he was a sleep, and maybe if he was he wouldn’t have woken up over such small noises, but he wasn’t. He didn’t know what to do. In this stone world, he currently has no earplugs, headphones, muffs, or anything to drown out the sounds.

And unfortunately, as disgusting as he felt for it, he couldn’t control the way his pants tightened, the way his breath hitched with yours, or the way his mind can’t help but picture what your face must look like. And that image doesn’t help the situation in his pants at all.

He feels it’s too far to let himself touch himself to your sounds. After all, you didn’t even know he was listening. And though it’s not his fault, he’d feel creepy and like he took advantage if he made it a silent mutual thing. So he endures it until he hears you grunt and a whisper falls from your lips.

“Ukyo…” he heard it loud and clear, even though you’d whispered it low enough anybody else wouldn’t have noticed. Then a low groan and you whisper again, “It’s not enough…”

He can’t help but let the idea cross his mind that maybe he could make you cum quick. And he finds himself nearing your door, though he feels selfish for not keeping his mouth shut and staying still during this. He hesitates, but now he feels creepier if he doesn’t knock. After all, now he’s standing at the door, close enough that with his ears he’s certain you’re curling and thrusting in 2 fingers, but the rhythm he picks up for your clit is irregular. And your disappointed noises that follow soon after tell him that’s not how it’s supposed to be.

So before you can do anything else, he knocks in the door. He hears you freeze, the air goes still and silent, before finally you call out.

“Uh… yes?”

“Hey…” He doesn’t know what to say yet, but he quickly tries to think of the right words. “I heard my name.”

“Oh, sorry I must have been dreaming.” You chuckle awkwardly, lying through your teeth.

“I heard more than that.” He says quickly, tone clearly a bit more nervous than he intended. It goes silent for a moment before he hears shuffling, then footsteps, and lastly the door swings open.

You’re standing there is pajamas that are haphazardly thrown on. He knows it’s a little weird to think, considering the lack of consent given thus far, but he wishes you hadn’t gotten dressed again.

“I heard my name, and I know that doesn’t mean that you want to have sex with me, but I figured I’d… uh… ask? Do you want any help?” He’s more calm than a lot of people would be, but he’s also a nervous wreck inside.

“Yes, I do.” You answer quickly, and on queue, both of you are backing into the room, the thin excuse for a door gets locked behind him.

He decides he’d take his time, within reason, because he’s fairly certain you’re already sexually frustrated.

Between the two of you, it was fairly obvious there were feelings. Even the two of you could see that. However, the two of you have no relationship. So he knows he’s gotta cover some basic respectful bases. Not only that, but he’s dying to kiss you.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, and you chuckle. It’s cute he feels the need to ask when you let him in to have sex. You nod, and he closes the gap between you two. He pecks your lips first, before changing to an open mouth kiss, one that deepens in hunger as a new kind of heat brews between the two of you.

Once the two of you are exploring the taste of each other’s mouthes with your tongues, he finally starts to touch you. His hands find their way under your shirt, and soon his lips leave your mouth for your neck. His hands leave your shirt to slip off your pants, but not before looking to you for permission, which you grant.

And soon his head is buried between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your clit in an experimental rhythm. His eyes are locked on your face, watching your reactions. Once he finds the pace he sees, or more so hears, the best reaction, he keeps it and adds his fingers into your cunt.

His fingers curl a few times before rubbing against your g-spot, then pulling out and pushing back in time with his tongue on your clit. He continues his motions as you tangle your hands in his white hair, your head thrown back as you breathe heavily.

“Don’t stop…” You breathe out. He hums against your clit in response, causing you to whine.

He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t change anything. And soon your hips buck up against his face a bit, which he doesn’t mind, and your back arches off the bed. Your legs shake a bit as he pushes you over the edge.

“Fuck, yes! Ukyo!” You shout, moaning for him.

“So pretty…” he mutters when he pulls away, slick covering his chin.

You’re already thinking about returning the favor.

I was half awake when I wrote this so I apologize if it’s not very great at points. I’ll look over it tomorrow but I’m posting it for now.

[slickchickchocolatier]

His and Her Perspectives - Chapter 3 (18+ Only)

So sorry for the delay. I wanted to get this to you guys before I head out to run some errands, been pretty busy the last few days. This was edited and somewhat partially drafted into completion, however, it is not at all proofread or checked over for errors so please excuse all of that. When i get time tonight, i'll look it over and fix any errors that exist. but for now, enjoy the read!

Pairing: Ooohohohohoho you know who. ;)

Warnings: Yes, this is like pure smut, the whole chapter. Not at all for anyone under the age of 18, so minors please ignore this post. As per usual, the smut is very descriptive, and some curse words. Just the standard stuff. But still a good read if you're trying to get in the mood or an idea of what car sex is like with MGR/MRE/HHP Heeseung ;)

Next chapter is also going to be fully smut-ish so for those of you that live for smut, stay tuned.

The surprise i have in store for you guys will be posted later, i just wanted to get this chapter out because ive been on and off working it for the last few days and I am just ready to get it out so i can work on the next one.

Summary:

Summer was swinging by faster than you could enjoy it. Emily and the girls thought of ways on how to dedicate the remainder of the break to make the most out of the last couple of months and enjoy the season to its fullest. That was when they thought of a nice trip into the valley with the boys, a mass get-together where we could all enjoy each other’s company and have game night at a rental.

It didn’t take long for the girls to find a large home at a decent daily rate, located near one of the famous vineyards in the country. The boys all thought the trip was a good idea and even offered to take charge of the barbeque, much to Emily and the girl’s delight.

You could tell Heeseung liked the idea of the trip, even though he maintained his usual habit of remaining calm, quiet, and sitting with his arms crossed, merely giving a simple nod and half a smirk when Jake turned to ask him if he was excited about the trip.

After a few days, you all had prepared and packed up for an early departure. The drive was long, nearly four and a half hours into the valley, everyone agreed to leave early in the morning while it was still dark out, hoping to mitigate the risk of getting stuck in traffic. Much to the boy’s dismay, the girls dictated that the carpool-maintained gender integrity, mainly so that they could enjoy each other’s company and catch up on daily gossip while they boys spend some quality time themselves.

Witnessing the dictation of transportation assignment, you noted Heeseung’s lowering tilt of the chin as his hat hovered and casted a shadow to cover more than just his eyes. He didn’t like the idea of making a long drive without you being beside him, not because he was the clingy type, it was more so because he had planned on taking the opportunity to rest you on his lap and tightly embracing you.

Though the feeling was mutual, you felt deep down that traveling separately was for the better. Based off the last time you sat on his lap, you both found that it was a prime position for one of your many sexual episodes.

It was on a Friday evening, you and Heeseung decided to go the movie theater. Arriving fairly early, he parked his car near the back end of the lot where it was secluded and sparse, just so you both could have some privacy to talk and freely display your affection without having to worry about exposing yourselves to people passing by.  The windshield overlooked the wide shopping center across the street, with the glittering lights that decorated the shops, and the pleasant view of shoppers mingling from afar, the view produced a wholesome charm of simplistic night life.

Admiring the view, you felt a piece of your hair being tucked away as Heeseung continued to admire your profile. You shyly chucked towards his lovely notion, which only invigorated him more.

Once you both had walked in, found your seating, and watched as the movie began, the moment the beginning credits displayed the main roles was when you lost all interest in the original event. The feeling in your gut proved to be too distracting after the moment in the car. You became stimulated by the act of him moving your hair aside as he peeked at you with one visible eye from underneath his cap.

Making sure to hide it within the hair that framed your face, you glanced over to see that even though Heeseung was facing the screen, you could tell that the sexual tension was building up by the way he kept bouncing his leg. His hat that traditionally covered his eyes, gave his face more shadow from the dimmed lighting inside the theater, it made it hard to tell if he was looking at the screen or possibly gazing at something else while facing it.

His elbow propped up on the arm of the seat, as his face slightly resting against his hand, you took visual notice of the way he had his index delicately placed on his lips, brushing it back and forth gently, occasionally dragging the skin with it as he revealed a subtle display of teeth. Moving your eyes back forward, the tingling sensation grew stronger and even though you tried hiding it by crossing your arms over your chest, the depths of each breath you took was too steep, the inclining rise of your breast was too noticeable. Unsure of how to remedy the situation at a public setting, you both sat there in silence as the movie continued playing. When suddenly you heard Heeseung stand out of his chair.

Two steps in, your view of the screen is blocked by Heeseung, casually standing in front of your crossed legs and extending a hand to you. He doesn’t say a word.

You look up to see that the bill of his cap, along with the effects of the lack of lighting, aggrandized the shadow over his face, leaving only his lips to remain visible, along with the hazy side smirk it formulated. Grabbing his hand, you realized how much the tension was affecting him when you felt the weight of his pull nearly levitated you off your seat. It was so sudden, the way your body lost contact with the cushion as your legs caught up with the movement to keep you from falling over. His grip on your hand was welded.

After straightening your posture, his free hand moves up, and you stood admiring the mask of shadow that his face wore, as he gently fixes your hair with the tips of his fingers. Beginning at your hairline, you felt the light touch of his skin as his fingers pinched a small amount of hair as he delicately relocates it to the side and tucks it behind your ear. The tips gently wrap’s the piece around and behind your helix, where they remained for a second before dragging along the skin behind your ear until they encountered your earring.

He rests the dangle on his index, admiring the butterfly trinket attached. Afterwards, he continues the trailing movement of said finger, letting the earring fall from its rest as he traces your partially exposed jawline inwards towards your chin, where he used his thumb and inner knuckle to nourish a faint hold. Committing to another favorite habit of his, you felt his thumb extend its reach and brush over your lips, from center moving outwards as he rests it on the outer corner, composing small light strokes.

Heeseung synthesized many habits that reciprocated his sentiment towards you, one being his usual and most displayed act in moving, playing, or fixing your hair to amplify the exposure of your face, mainly your eyes, as evident from his showering verbiage expressing his fondness when admiring them. The second habit was the stroking and brushing of your lips.

Of all his habits, there was one that he frequently committed, at least once a day. It was his penchant for facial contact, with or without kissing permitted. Every day when you were on your way to your next class, Heeseung would do the same and walk in your direction. Regardless, it had only been a couple of hours that he hadn’t seen you, it was obvious that you were indefinitely on his mind.

Once you found yourself breaching his presence close enough to ask him how his morning classes were going, he carried his usual trait of withholding a verbal response. Instead, he’d raise a hand to push the bill of his cap up, revealing a raised eyebrow that gave him a confident expression. The tilting of his bill is followed by him placing the same hand on the back of your head, administering a slight grab of hair as he would pull your face in to meet his, nose to nose. The groove of your lips is met with his, but not in the form of a kiss, just touch. He would angle his forehead inward and flutter his lashes against your own, initiating butterfly kisses as he formed his tenacious smirk against your lips, leading to a dual chuckle that you give to each other.

In the theater, you continue to be the canvas of his thumb strokes as he savored every precise detail of your face. Using the grip he had on you, he turns and walks you out of the building, across the wide lot, and back to his car, not a word is spoken from him. With only the view of his broad shoulders, you catch yourself admiring his lethal frame from the back, watching his tall stature as he moves closer to the car with his arm extending backwards as he maintains the grip of your hand, trailing you behind. The wispy length of his hair barely extends pass the nape, faintly touching the back of his collar. No matter the angle you viewed him in, you couldn’t help but find him irresistible.

His pace slows as he reaches the back seat door, opening it, he pulls you by his grip and swings you around to face him. While maintaining the grip, he swings his hand around your backside, bending your arm by the elbow as it is pinned to your lower back, fingers intertwined with each other’s. He pulls you in and kisses you, just a small kiss, but ever so tender like the others. He nods you to get inside the backseat.

Once you slid in, you shift down to the window seat next opposite of the one you had just entered through. He follows in after you, positioning himself on the center seat with his legs widespread, each foot placed behind the two front seats. He faces in your direction, slightly leans over to kiss you once more. You feel his hands roaming from your breasts down to the smallest part of your waist and with utter ease, you’re surprised at his strength as he lifts you, only releasing a single deep moan and breath into your mouth as he picks you up, shifting your backside during movement so that it was facing him as he positioned you on his lap.

The feeling of sitting on Heeseung’s lap became one of your favorite sensations in the world. The moment he rests you on his lap, his hands drag from your waist, and down to your hips as he presses you down against his crotch, enforcing you to feel an overwhelming and pleasurable pressure from the back. As your back arches, your head tilts back against his, you feel him pressing his nose and lips against the soft skin at your nape, burrowing his soft kisses.

His hands that rests on your hips begin to set the pace for your hips to move along with. Pushing and pulling you to a rocking motion, the arch in your back simulates oceanic waves as the back of your head remains resting against his forehead. The soft kisses on your nape transition into a passionate massage as you feel his tongue becomes involved and traces small circles with each wet, and suckling kiss he leaves. You feel him inhaling the scent of your perfume that you applied on the base of your neck, with his face attached to your nape, he enjoys each whiff he takes in. Just as you relish feeling the air he pulls in with his nostrils against your skin, your body slight jolts out of shock at the feeling of his teeth gently nibbling, following by the caressing of his tongue. Concentrating at the center, his oral performance migrates over to the side of your throat as he pulls you in closer, your back fully meets his chest and your head rests on his shoulder as he burrows his face in the nook of your neck.

The motion of your body does not stop, in fact, it continues with a stronger pace as you begin to feel his hips thrusting upwards against your derriere, syncing with the moment your hips roll down on him. His eagerness is evident by his desire to increase the pace, but you use the weight of your hips to suppress each thrust to tease him a little. Not being able to take it, he reaches down and lifts the flare of your skirt up, pinning it to your pelvis with his other hand as he maintains a grip on you. He pulls down your panties, they nearly rip off from his eager ardor had it not been you lifting one leg to feed through it, salvaging the lace material as it drapes and falls on the other leg, collecting in a ring around your ankle.

Accomplishing the goal of getting your sensitive bud exposed, you feel the cold air greeting the skin in between the two folds. The sensation is followed by the pressure of his fingers as he reaches over your thigh and rubs his tips in circular motion against your clit, afflicting gentle taps with his rubbing motion. The moans that rush out your mouth are both soft and harsh as each gasp takes your breath away. The beat of your heart speeds up, pounding against your chest plate, feeling as if it will explode.

Commencing the last rub, he cups you as his middle finger is injected into your opening. Your moves speed up as you feel your mouth drying up from the consistent moaning and gasping, you’re committed to. Once he felt that he has acquired the first phase of your desire, he sticks his index in to join his middle, feeling the fluid of your arousal gushing out, coating each finger.

The arm around your waist tightens, and you feel him pulling you even closer as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. Each moment they thrust in, you feel him lifting you upwards as the base of his palm pushes against your base, shifting your weight upwards. Your head surpasses his shoulders, and your chest extends higher, nearly reaching his face as you feel his lips softly pecking below your collarbone.

The sound of skin-to-skin contact is promoted by the heavy moisture flowing in and out as his fingers manipulate the pace and your movements. Just when you feel as though you can’t take enough, his fingers thrust in deep, and remain still. You feel them waving inside you as he massages the interior flesh of your cavity, effectuating unanticipated moans to burst out from your lips as your body wallops upwards from the overwhelming sensation.

Slowly, he slides his fingers out. The sound of his zipper and button coming undone, along with your exhausting pants fills the hollowness of the stagnant car. Feeding through the opening of his briefs, you feel the warmth of his shaft and the tip graze in between your thighs. It is soft, dry, and smooth, it feels gentle and similar to baby skin as it rubs against your skin.

Your head rests on his shoulder. Nose, eyes, and lips facing the window as the side of your cheek and neck is decorated by the hair sticking on to the faint bit of sweat that glazed your skin. From the corner of your eye, you watch as his strong, and large hand grabs the base of his shaft. His long fingers wrapped around the thickness of his diameter, which was so thick that in fact, compared to it his notoriously large hand almost appeared smaller in size.

With his firm grab at the base, he extends the length perpendicularly, the tip eyeballing the roof of the car. A shiver travels from your toes, along your spine, and to the back of your neck as the size of his penis intimidates you. It didn’t get much better as you kept gazing at it, the more you had looked, the larger it seemed to appear. You kept your face off to the side and squint them shut as you prepare yourself for penetration, knowing it’s about to come as you feel the skin of his tip inching closer to your folds.

He guides the tip to rub in between the skin, up and down. He coats the muscle with the wetness that escaped you during his earlier performance, and before you know it, the sound swirling sound of wet skin swooshing against one another returns. The sound takes over your gasps as they die down from the break.

The sudden feeling of his face burrowing into the nook of your neck went unappreciated as you didn’t get the chance to apprize the feeling due to his entry that followed immediately after. The combination of his open lips against your neck, breathing out semi-harshly and the tip of his nose pressing into you right below your ear, enshrined the severity of his penetration. You felt the hot air from his breathing coating your neck, it condensates your skin as you feel drips of moisture trinkling down to your collarbone. The sharpness of his entry can’t be ignored, but the feeling of his face on your skin helped in distracting you from the pain, even though it was only slightly.

The sound and feeling of the vibration in his voice as he gasps and grunts into your neck takes you over the edge as he simultaneously thrusts in and out. He starts of deep but slow, going in, pulling out, just as the tip is edging its exit, only for him to thrust back in deeper than before. The feeling of pressure and being filled shrills you, it’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before he came into your life. It was overpowering, both enjoyable and painful.

The movement of your body shifting upwards became more prominent than before when he used his fingers. His hips bucking up into you dramatized the elevation of your weight. The moans were replaced with cries of immense stimulation as each thrust incites your muscles, causing them to contract and shake, ridding more moisture than before as it gushes out, only to be thrusted back in.

The feeling of his chest permanently attached to your back provided a feeling of comfort and safety. He felt so broad and hard, the width of your shoulders was not even half of his. Your hands rest on the sides of his seated hips, desperately trying to find something to latch on to from the excitement of the sting and ecstasy convulsing in your body. All you could feel was the smoothness of the faux leather seat, the flat surface giving you nothing. The feature of the newly modeled car allotted for the seat belt latches to remain hidden and tucked in between seats, to maintain a slick aesthetic appeal, which had ultimately work against you as you couldn’t dig them out with just your fingertips.

Desperate as the quivering sensation takes over your body, you reach up and grab on to his arm that remained steadfast and wrapped around your waist. You felt the muscles of his forearm as he slightly pushed you down each time he thrusted, then lift you when he partially exited. Upon feeling you reaching up and grabbing onto his arm, it propelled him to increase the pace, he burrows his face in deeper to the nook of your neck, causing his cap to fall completely off his head.

His soft hair cushions against the straight edge of your jawline. His heated gasps are now accompanied with soft kisses, the sensitivity of the skin on your neck shivers upon receiving them. The arm around your waist remains steady, even tightened as the pace grew, while his other hand rests on your inner thigh, gently applying pressure to maintain the spread of your legs. His fingertips tapping your skin every so often when your cries became harsh and out of breath.

“Uh! Baby. Fuck!” He states in between his gasps.

“You’re so damn beautiful, I’m so fucking lucky I get to be the one to do this to you.” The more he spoke in his low and calm tone, the more you felt yourself gushing out the natural essence of your body, which only promoted him to thrust in and out with ease.

“Fuck baby, keep getting wet for me, makes it easier to fuck you. You’re so fucking tight.”

He was right, it did make it easier for him to ravish you, the pace of each thrust came in faster, and faster. He was rough, but nowhere near as ferocious as his Ethan. There was still a soft side to Heeseung’s performance that allowed you to maintain some aspect of the setting, whereas his Ethan persona would normally induce you to a state of unawareness and peaked exhaustion.

The pace continued to go faster, unsure of how it was possible, yet all you could do was to take it. It didn’t matter how loud your cries and pleasuring moans were, the car was parked away and at a distance where no one could see, hear, or save you. You were at his mercy, for the pleasure was too great at times, you almost felt the desire to escape his grasp. Whenever you shifted, attempting to close your legs or extend your hips away from his groin, the hand that laid firmly on your inner thigh would hold you down and spread, reminding you that there was no escape, not even from the gentle Heeseung. His vigor remained ever present no matter what side he was taking, himself or Ethan. For both entities, the difference on the achievement didn’t matter, there was one goal that they shared to obtain, and that was to get the both of you to cum.

Suddenly, your body couldn’t take anymore. You felt your muscles violently contracting, the shaking of your body terminates the smooth sail of your body’s movements that had, up until that moment, followed in sync with his thrusts. Your hips jolt, up and down, left to right, only to be suppressed by his grab on you as he forces you to remain steady while he continues thrusting. The feeling was beyond overwhelming, it was too good that it was almost painful. Your body tries to fight it by shifting fiercely, trying to break free, yet the slap of his hand against your thigh as he pushes you down with his arm and strengthens his grab overpowers you, causing you to scream.

“Oh yeah, that’s it baby. Cum for me.” The feeling of his lips moving as he spoke, grazing against the sensitive area of your neck did not help the matter, your mind went into the state of confusion as to trying to configure if the sensation you were forced to succumb to was good or bad, or both.  All of which became null and void when your orgasm kicked in and put you on cloud nine.

His thrusts became heavier, deeper, and dowdy as the speed increased, all the while you became limp and barely out of breath as each weakened moan escaped you. The tingling high you felt in our gut shuddered your muscles as your body began to gradually release a fluid that is different from the natural lubricant it produced before. It felt sour, almost stingy but not at all painful, just overly euphoric. You couldn’t control it as you screamed and dug your fingertips into the arm around your waist, feeling him pushing you down as he felt the flow of your orgasm drowning his tip and trickling down his length.

Three deep thrusts in as you were cumming, you felt the fierceness of his gasps coughed against your neck as he releases into you. His hand that had rested gently on your inner thigh suddenly grabbed hold and just like you, the fingertips dug into your skin, pushing your thigh outwards more in the process while bruising the skin. A series of hard but slow thrusts followed suit, as if he was making sure every drip went deep inside.

What followed suit were everlasting moments of peaceful rest as you both regained your breaths, mainly you. Your raging pants were gently persuaded to calmness as you felt his hand rub and massage your chest, while his relentless kisses on your neck continued.

“Breathe for me. Breathe for me, baby.”

He calmly tells you, all the while his shaft remains in your body, surrounded by your warmth and softness.

[definitelyunhingedagentphoenix]

Hey so I lost the ask about my headcanons for Fabricator because the person deleted their blog (😭)

So here are the headcanons for everyone to enjoy and hopefully the person who initially asked for this, will see it on another blog or something. Now let's not waste any more time, and get right into it.

Sorry as well. This ended up being way longer and more detailed than I had anticipated. As it turns out, I have a lot to say about her.

Fabricator was a child prodigy. She was building things from a young age; her favourite pastime being taking things apart and putting them back together. After a few years of her (accidentally) destroying her parents' appliances, they enrolled her in a program for geniuses and she THRIVED there.

By the time she was a teenager, she had skipped many grades and was instead enrolled in her first year of university. She was extremely happy with this. Her experiments were now funded by the school which meant she had more freedom to do as she wished (as long as she didn't get caught that is).

She never particularly got along with the other students but she never really cared either. She did enjoy a party now and again though, which she got invited to fairly often. The other students found her very interesting.

She was never in need of money; she was given full scholarships all throughout university and had jobs lined up as soon as she graduated. None of the jobs really gave her what she wanted though. She wanted action and freedom in her inventions.

She was never a goodie-two-shoes by any means and she was never one to pretend to be. She got in trouble constantly in her youth but she managed to talk her way out of it.

Solaris and Zor had been following her work for a hot minute when she began building things that... seemed dangerous. They LOVED those machines. That's when (through a lot of prompting) Solaris managed to convince Zor to hire her on and the three of them hit it off right away.

Solaris and Fabby became inseparable. Most thought they were sisters because of how close they became. And Fabby quickly became Zor's favourite after she revealed her true potential. World domination had always been a particular pursuit of hers. She wanted it more than Zor ever did, but she never had the lab to herself to work on her true desires before. And Zor was the perfect cover. They both know that the other would end them should things ever go sideways enough so keeping each other in line/happy became an ongoing endeavour. Their relationship is absolutely based on mutual respect, sprinkled with a little fear.

She loves cats. She would have a million cats before interacting with one person (Solaris is the exception to this rule). However, she hates cleaning up after them so she had Zor hire a maid to clean all. "Yes, this is a necessary expense Zor! How am I supposed to build you another death machine for that stupid agent to destroy right under your nose if I spend all day cleaning!"

Speaking of Solaris, they bought matching convertibles just for the hell of it. They spend every weekend drinking wine and talking shit. Fabby is the main reason Solaris was able to escape and go into protection after the Death Engine.

When Roxana entered the playing field, she was honestly ecstatic. She had been watching Roxana's work for years and had often said she should be recruited to Zoraxis. However, she knew Zor's plan from the beginning was to betray and kill her. She played the part of an uncaring side character in Zor's plan but she wanted to help Roxana. Brilliant minds like hers shouldn't be wasted.

After a month of working with Roxana, she fell head over heels for her. Even if she would never admit that. Then when Roxana saved Agent Phoenix and returned to the agency (at least she assumes she did) she knew it was over. She took a vacation after that and there was nothing Zor could do to stop her.

She loves travelling so it wasn't unusual for her to pack up and leave when Zor wasn't in immediate need of her. This time her reasoning just happened to be a little different.

She considered leaving Zoraxis after that but she could never justify that. Even if there was somewhere to go after, she would be forever hunted by Zor and would give up the life she had worked so hard for. She had to stay.

Maybe someday Agent Phoenix would take down Zor for good and she could flee to another country. She liked Agent Phoenix. She definitely respected someone who could cause so much destruction and chaos. And anyone who could piss Zor off that much was a worthy opponent.

She will never give up on her dreams of world domination but her motives have definitely changed over the years.

[godsofhumanity]

Athena’s relationships with the rest of the olympians ( + hades and persephone) hcs??

ZEUS

he's her father, and more importantly, her king.

i think Athena is fairly loyal to Zeus, and she respects him, BUT, she doesn't agree with everything he does.

Athena's first and most important goal in life is to serve JUSTICE, and sometimes she perceives that Zeus isn't just. that's when she tends to participate in Hera's rebellions.

but chiefly, she respects him a lot, and upholds/enforces his word.

in terms of father-daughter relationships, Zeus embarrasses Athena a lot.. she doesn't laugh at his dad jokes, just rolls her eyes.. the prank's on her though because any reaction is a good reaction to Zeus, and he gets a kick out of embarrassing any of his children, Athena included.

Athena tries not to act like she's Zeus' favourite, but she knows that Zeus is definitely the most lenient with her on account of her being his firstborn, and so, sometimes she does use this to her advantage (it's the strategic thing to do!).

HERA

already covered here

DEMETER

honestly? i don't think they have any particularly special relationships.. i don't see them interacting very much. they're civil/cordial with each other, but that's the extent.

HESTIA

Athena's mother will always only be Metis. and there's no other "living" god she would ever call "mother"... but i do like the idea that when Athena emerged, Hestia was the one who guided her around the place.

Hestia is the one who taught her about Olympus' history, about the social dynamics, about what to say and what not to say. Athena is a pretty rigid girl; she might say anything that came to her mind, but Hestia helps teach her to be a little more emotional.. a little more courteous.

she fills in the role that Metis would have served to a minor degree, and therefore, Athena always holds Hestia in high esteem.

POSEIDON

she doesn't hate Poseidon, but she does find him irritating.

Athena and Poseidon are always at odds with each other, and unintentionally, they always seem to have the opposite opinion.. i like the idea of Zeus sitting on his throne with Athena on the right side and Poseidon on the left, and both are trying to tell him different things.

they glare at each other a lot from one side of the hall to the other.

HADES

a similar deal like with Demeter.. i don't see Hades and Athena talking too much. i think they both just hold each other up with mutual respect, but there's nothing special.

PERSEPHONE

i'm not sure what the actual timeline is, but i like the idea that Persephone is already married to Hades by the time Athena emerges from Zeus' skull...

so even though Athena is actually older than Persephone, because Persephone is a Queen and ranks slightly higher than Athena, i like the idea of Persephone acting a little bit like an older sister to Athena.

they probably don't talk too much, but Persephone is very lovely and civil to literally every single person ever, so they would most likely be friends.. or at least friendly acquaintances.

ARTEMIS

as the only other young, chaste goddess around Olympus, i think Athena and Artemis have a natural friendship.

Artemis is excited when Athena is "born" because a) there's another goddess beside her, and b) Athena is likeminded with Artemis.. not just in their decision to remain chaste, but their "unemotionalness" (idk what the word is), and their desire to live their own lives on their own terms.

APOLLO

prior to Athena's birth, i think Apollo would assume the position of "eldest child", even though he's not. Artemis doesn't really want anything to do in Olympus, so she's usually off in the wilderness, which kinda just leaves Apollo there to deal with Hermes, Ares, and later Dionysus; Olympus' favourite troublemakers.

then when Athena arrives, she brings with her a new sense of authority and control that rivals Apollo, so i can see him getting a bit sidelined when Athena first arrives-- the boys listen to Athena immediately, but will throw a bit of a fuss when Apollo tells them the exact same thing she does.

over time of course, Athena and Apollo build a good rapport with each other. they don't really fight too much, and they both sort of pick on each other the way friends tease each other.

all in all; they're good to each other.

HERMES

Hermes isn't a child, but compared to all the other gods, he definitely gets treated like one because he's so mischievous.

Athena 100% fits the "elder sister" category with Hermes, and he does pretty much anything she tells him to.

they get along very well (who doesn't get along with Hermes??), and i can imagine Hermes expressing any doubts he has to Athena first and foremostly. they have a lot of trust between each other.

ARES

Ares and Athena have always been at odds with each other due to Zeus assigning Ares' domain to Athena.

their rivalry is mostly charged by Ares who believes it to be his, but Athena doesn't really perceive Ares as much competition so she shuts him down a lot.

that being said, i like the idea that sometimes Athena and Ares are quite in sync with each other... they have a similar tastes and ideas.

most importantly, i like the idea that Ares and Athena train together a lot-- they're the only ones who can really keep up with each other.

HEPHAESTUS

i'm aware of the dark side of Hephaestus and Athena's relationship, but i've erased it from my personal hc's because it doesn't really contribute anything to either gods' characters.

i actually like the idea of Athena and Hephaestus having a really good, friendly relationship.

in the beginning, i do agree that Hephaestus is in love with Athena- and being Zeus' son, he's arrogant and full of himself like his father, and can't imagine Athena ever refusing to marry him... until she does. repeatedly.

i have a hc that Athena, sick of Hephaestus' propositions, makes a bet with him-- she'll marry him willingly, without complaint, IF he can win against her in a duel. BUT, if Hephaestus loses, then he has to promise he'll never pursue Athena again but will support her decision to remain chaste and even defend it. and Hephaestus, already strong and pretty toned from all the blacksmithing he does, is like "sure, easy".

naturally, Athena wins.. she's a war goddess. and so from then on, Hephaestus is forced to give up his dream girl... and with time, his little crush dissolves and Athena and Hephaestus actually become very close.

he makes her all the latest weapons and tech, and she is one of the few gods who actually come down occasionally to spend time in the forge.

when Hephaestus has his troubles with Aphrodite and he intends to humiliate her and Ares by stringing them up and putting them on display, i like the idea that Athena, worried about Hephaestus' anger and obsession, attempts to convince him to settle things normally, with his words, because she knows he'll regret it later.. of course, she's unsuccessful, but she at least tries.

also, Hephaestus and Athena are sort of equal with each other. Hephaestus, Apollo, and Athena share a special bond in which they kinda all can tell each other the truth about how a situation is without the other party getting jealous or irritated...

for example, i like the idea of Hephaestus calling Athena out on her pettiness for cursing Arachne and Medusa when she attempts to call Hephaestus out on his pettiness for wanting to humiliate Ares and Aphrodite. no other god could speak to Athena like that and live to tell the tale. Apollo could have pulled this off as well, i believe.

DIONYSUS

honestly? again, nothing special. the way Athena is with Hermes is the way she is with Dionysus also.

APHRODITE

they're CIVIL to each other, but mostly, they don't really get along too much.

things started out bad when Aphrodite cheated on Hephaestus (due to Athena and Hephaestus being close).. so i think Athena never really had that high of an opinion of Aphrodite.

but things become even worse after the whole Trojan war stunt when Athena loses out to Aphrodite in a beauty competition.

all in all, Aphrodite's probably irritates Athena the most in the world. it doesn't help that Aphrodite is tight with Poseidon, whom Athena also doesn't get along with too much.

[utilitycaster]

What bothers me on principle about Syldor: the man is an ambassador. His ENTIRE JOB is to be a good representative of his people and foster mutually beneficial relationships. If it takes twenty years and his estranged children showing him up by saving the world for him to decide that maybe his society and he in particular could stand to be less of a classist/racist* prick, it's hard for me to feel especially impressed. (*On that note, it looks like the current guide did some strategic editing about mixed ancestry, but the way half-elves were originally described was that humans saw them as a blessing, but elves saw them as impure and as something lesser. The first edition specifically said "the elves of Syngorn have looked on them with contempt." Whether it's currently part of the lore or not, that...kinda set a certain tone about that whole family relationship. It wasn't a great tone.) As for the others: Howaardt suffers in my recollection because that plot was happening right when my own father died, so it's hazy and I frankly don’t want to backtrack to remind myself of the details beyond "Tary eloquently told him off for his failings and I'm glad he said what he did." I’m with you about Thoreau, though. That man’s the worst.

So just to stave off any further questions...to be honest I don't need to know why anyone on an individual level thinks this about Syldor, and I do get that a lot of people don't recall Tary's arc terribly well for a variety of reasons. Call me cynical but "fandom opinions tend towards the less nuanced, and it's very easy for one person's highly specific projection to spread around as The Correct Interpretation" tends to explain it on a broad scale.

That aside, this feels like it seriously misses the point. Taking only 15 years and two visits from his estranged children for him to apologize - even badly - and begin a slow about face against his entire culture, even when he knows it will never be enough to mend the relationship? Quite a lot of real people would, genuinely, do anything for their parents to do the same.

(I also think that Syngorn's xenophobia does need to be considered in the context of "the ambassador from Syngorn to the primarily human society on the continent was assassinated, kicking off a bitter three-decades long war, less than three centuries ago and very possibly in Syldor's living memory." It doesn't make it justified, but the tone-setting is actually like...fairly good world-building that puts this in context.)

It is also rather irritating that in a fandom that loves a redemption arc, someone who has, again, fucked up badly, but then made an honest to attempt to improve, is so frequently thrown in the same (or worse) bucket as a serial gaslighter rather than treated as "kind of an asshole." Which is, to be clear, what I'm arguing. I don't think he's a good person. He was bigoted and took the twins away out of a misplaced sense that they couldn't be happy in a small town with their human mother. I think the twins are justified in being mad at him still. I would not expect them to ever forgive him fully. My point is that there are shades of gray here that are entirely ignored. (This also happens to cross into a more serious issue I have with fandom frequently diminishing some pretty horrific emotional and psychological abuse such as Thoreau's, but that's also a whole different story.)

With all that said I covered Syldor in the original post primarily because I found it particularly hypocritical that in TLOVM, he was as awful as the fandom makes him out to be, and unhappiness with the story shifted to the twins and Percy acting in ways that were consistent with Syldor being worse and with their mental state re: everything else going on being very different than in canon.

I guess the underlying point is that I'm fairly vocal when I find the story isn't hanging together logically, and both C1 and TLOVM do hang together logically. That, again, doesn't obligate anyone to like it, but I do want to observe that it does, in fact, make a lot of sense if one considers the actual canon of how Syldor behaves in each work, and it specifically makes sense for Vex's arc and the changes made to it.

[toxic-ship-tournament]

ROUND 1 / SIDE A / POLL 2

Dorian x Beau ( @monoma-neitoblog-blog )vs Deputy Dean Sinclaire x Jacob Seed ( @derelictheretic )

who makes up your ship?:

Dorian x Beau

why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:

Beau and Dorian were childhood best friends. They've known each other since they were little and they became even closer as they grew up. They dated for a little while, and had an unofficial third in their other best friend, Orias. But Beau moved away to seek better opportunity (because he desperately wants to be famous) and broke up with Dorian before leaving. Fairly healthy so far right? But Dorian is a MESS. He's super reserved and never deals with his emotions, but he just WILL NOT leave Beau alone. It's bad, like every night he calls him and leaves him some heart-wrenching and VERY manipulative voice-mail, he sits there crying all the time, admits he would do ANYTHING to see him again. Beau just ignores him the whole time. Eventually, they're brought back together in a VERY public setting, with Orias there too (who has been watching Dorian crumble this whole time) and they all hook up. Beau wants to keep it hush-hush and not get back together with Dorian but Dorian is so glad to have Beau back. Orias wants to stay with both of them but doesn't do anything about their relationship either. Eventually Beau and Dorian kind of get back together? But it's still a mutually destructive relationship because of their inherently conflicting priorities and incompatible personalities. It's bad Tl;dr Beau left because he wanted to be famous and Dorian won't leave him alone so them and another friend are all brought back together and get back together even though they're all worse off for it.

ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:

I don't have any art of all of them together but feel free to contact me and I'll find a way to whip something up!

****

who makes up your ship?:

Deputy Dean Sinclaire x Jacob Seed

why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:

It all starts with Jacob kidnapping Dean, or having his chosen kidnap him for him technically. You know, how most loving relationships start. Then it goes into Jacob starving Dean for weeks, mentally conditioning him, psychologically torturing him and chipping away at his mental resolve until he breaks and becomes the perfect murder machine; which is when Jacob tricks him into killing one of his closest allies. (Not to mention his initial goal was to make someone deserving of killing him, romance in self destruction via outward force and so on and so forth). After all of this you'd think they hate each other and honestly a part of Dean does hate him but another part of him craves his praise and attention and he knows he's too far gone at this point and the only person who could love a monster is another monster. He's everything he ever feared he'd become and Jacob is the now steady force holding all his broken peices together. Congrats to Jacob for literally making him worse! And congrats to Dean for making Jacob unhealthily obsessed with him and making him feel something for the first time in years! Even if it was possessiveness and a twisted version of love! They beat the shit out of each other on multiple occasions, sometimes before or during sex. They threaten to kill the other's families and almost go through with it a few times. By the end Dean is willing to kill anyone who tries to hurt Jacob and Jacob is willing to do the same, they're tragic, they're toxic, they're the worst, they make everyone uncomfortable and they'll probably die covered in each other's blood. But at least they'll be holding hands <3

ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:

Tag: #ship: Only Us Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4GDAKjOCyUKxWqw7acgzgi Pinterest: https://pin.it/2WOuuEp

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

Mutual jumpscare moment of this all happening as the train is going through the tunnel, and unfortunately Ingo's godawful noises have convinced the human that there is a demon aboard this train car with them, so when he bumps into them while he's toddering around in the dark and yowling it activates their Fight fear response. Neither of them has any idea what happened by the end of it, because it was too dark for the human to see and Ingo doesn't remember anything at all afterward, but it shaved about five years off of both their lives regardless.

That's even better that he can only ask for directions from other cats then (unless he stumbles across one of the nobles, I guess), as it forces Emmet to go the slow route. Ingo has a lot of plot time to get through, so Emmet needs a lot of ground to cover. I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up getting hurt at some point as well, as a kitty not used to traveling alone or by foot for so long.

Both of those feel very Volo, especially the latter option, given Volo's canon ambition to destroy the world and rebuild a better one. Only the clan cats getting to go to starclan is kinda bullshit though, I'm actually with him on that. Oh, actually, maybe Volo kinda buddies up to Ingo the same way he does to the game protagonist, because Ingo is now in the curious position of being both a clan cat and a former outsider? It'd probably be worth playing nice if was he was able to eventually pump Ingo for any knowledge they might give him about starclan.

this fuckin guy, as far as they know, fought a very small very angry demon on a train in the dark and narrowly escaped with their life. meanwhile as far as ingo is concerned this was probably an act of god or something, he doesn't know, that seems as likely as anything else

YEAHH... i wonder if he gets hurt in a fight with another wild animal maybe? a badger... or even a weasel... and then that colors whatever future interaction he has with the next noble he runs into. he probably didn't MEAN to fight it the first time, but either he wandered too close to its den unknowingly or it was out hunting and found him, and now that's the primary interaction with weasels/bears/whatever that he's familiar with. and then the next one he runs into starts TALKING

yeah lol that's the one problem with that concept is that... like... that's a fairly reasonable and sympathetic motivation. it IS kinda bullshit that only Some Cats get to go to cat heaven. so there has to be some other reason that like. he's the bad guy for wanting to fix that. which is why i'm also leaning towards the latter option actually lol, maybe he even convinces ingo and/or the protag to go along with this idea to open the gates of starclan, in a more active role than just giving him info, while not actually telling them that the like, core central part of this idea amounts to mass murder. (which, that's also sort of fun playing off canon, that now they're the ones giving him lore and ancient history instead of the other way around)

[scuttling]

Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[mjolnir-steve]

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair. 

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too. 

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot. 

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you. 

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings. 

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night. 

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work. 

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.” 

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder. 

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d. 

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?” 

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear. 

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides. 

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

[fanficsfromyesteryear]

Hi! Can I request headcanons for dating marcus (deadly class)? Thank you

HEADCANONS FOR DATING MARCUS LOPEZ ARGUELLO

A/N: Just a head’s up, I got a little carried away, so this is kinda long lol. Also, sorry this took forever! I’ve been suuuuuper busy lately :/ I almost had it done before work picked back up, but I couldn’t figure out how to end it. Anyway, I hope you like it!!

Before the two of you started dating, Marcus had no idea that you liked him, and for good reason

You did such a good job with hiding your feelings that sometimes even you forgot they were there, which was kind of the whole point

With girls like Saya and Maria around, sending out mixed signals and dropping subtle hints that they liked Marcus, too, it was intimidating

Add Marcus’s constant cynicism about love, and life in general, into the mix, and it was clear the chances of him actually liking you back were next to nothing

So, you knew it was probably for the best to move on

You used the “if you ignore it, it’ll go away” approach in the hopes that if you simply didn’t acknowledge your feelings, the problem would disappear

All this did, however, was create a whole new issue

Somewhere along the way, you’d begun to take the thought process of ‘ignoring your crush’ too literally

You and Marcus were best friends, so when, out of the blue, you stopped talking to him, he could tell something was up

He had no clue what, though

Naturally, he assumed it was something he had done

Marcus started asking around among your mutual friends to see if they knew anything, but they were all just as out of the loop as he was

You hadn’t told anyone about your repressed feelings for Marcus, and you had no intention of letting the secret slip any time soon, but accidents happen

The truth came out one night during a game of truth or dare when you were up on the roof smoking with the Rats

Your confession came tumbling out quicker than you could even think about reeling the words back in

“You hear that, Romeo?” Billy asked, elbowing Marcus in the ribs. “Y/N’s got the hots for you”

All Marcus could do was laugh nervously as he looked down at his feet, refusing to meet your gaze

To your relief, no one brought it up again for the rest of the game

When the next day rolled around and your crush on Marcus still wasn’t the topic of conversation, you started to think that you were in the clear

Maybe they’d all been too stoned to remember when they’d woken up that morning

Your hopes were shattered by the late afternoon

As you left the bathroom, Marcus spotted you from across the hall

He quickly rushed over and caught you by the elbow, dragging you back through the doorway

“Relationships aren’t really my thing,” he said

Marcus sounded like he had more to say, but before he got the chance, you cut him off

“It’s fine,” you said. “I get it”

“No, no. I mean, I like you, Y/N, really. I just don’t wanna mess it up”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face even if you tried

“You’re not gonna mess it up”

Before either of you could say more, the bathroom door opened and Petra walked in

She glanced between the two of you knowingly

“Hate to break this up, but if I hold this piss in any longer, I’ll explode”

With that, she pushed past you both, effectively ruining the moment

It didn’t take long after that for you and Marcus to make your relationship official

‘Official’ is a bit of a loose term in this case

For the most part, both of you kept the fact that you were dating fairly under the radar for fear of what others would do with that information

In a place like King’s Dominion, something as small as caring for another person beyond using them as an ally was seen as a weakness that could and would be used against you, and the last thing either of you wanted was to be put in a situation where you were pitted against each other

Of course, there were several instances when one (or both) of you nearly blew your cover

Such as in Martial Arts class

Instead of fighting you, Marcus would try to cop a feel

You’d quickly smack his hand away

“Miss De Luca’s right there!”

“She’s not looking”

In defense of both of you, though, a class in which hormonal teenagers are asked to pair themselves up and wrestle is practically an invitation to break the ‘no sex’ rule

The other classes you shared weren’t any better

Master Lin caught you and Marcus staring at each other instead of paying attention on multiple occasions, earning both of you a smack from his cane

Although Marcus was somewhat known for his smart mouth and talking back to authority, he knew better than to challenge Lin, not mention that if he did, he’d risk exposing the two of you in the process

So, Marcus bit back his insults and held in his tirade until the two of you were safely locked away in his dorm room

“He had no right to hit you like that”

“I’m fine,” you assured him, shoving another tissue up your nose to stop the bleeding. “Besides, he does it to everyone”

“That still doesn’t give him the right”

“Next time, I’m gonna stick that cane right up his ass”

Marcus wanted to shield you from all the violence at King’s, but when it was coming from teachers, there wasn’t much he could do about it

If it was a fellow student pushing you around, on the other hand, there was no holding him back

You loved how protective Marcus was of you, but sometimes you worried that he’d get carried away

Marcus always made sure you were never around to witness the fights take place, but the scrapes and bruises on his face that hadn’t been there when you saw him that morning were all the proof you needed

In such cases, you would insist on patching him up afterwards

The first few times this happened, Marcus was embarrassed by all the attention you were giving him

After a while, though, he grew to love the feeling of having someone fuss over him, especially if it was you

It was nice to have someone care about him for a change

You weren’t much of a fighter, but making sure he didn’t get Tetanus was your way of looking out for him

When you and Marcus weren’t getting into trouble, you were actually a pretty cute couple

Your roommates became accustomed to the two of you being a package deal, which often meant sneaking into each other’s rooms after lights out

Sometimes, it was to make out, but other times, it was so you could have late night conversations that you didn’t get the chance to have during the day

The topics of these conversations varied—they could be deep and philosophical (which was Marcus’s favorite kind), an opportunity to open up to each other about yourselves and your pasts, a time to plot someone’s death (usually only theoretically), or simply joking around

After especially long days, you would accidentally drift off in the middle of these nightly chats with your head on Marcus’s chest, but he never minded

He’d pull the covers up on your side and wrap his arms more tightly around you

While both of you were perfectly capable of pulling all-nighters, whenever you fell asleep, Marcus was never far behind

The sound of your evened-out breathing was like a lullaby to him, so it was safe to say that his sleep schedule drastically improved after the two of you started dating

You’d found that you slept better with Marcus, too, so on the few nights you spent apart, you’d doze off listening to the mixtapes he’d made you in your Walkman, which were full of your favorite songs and songs that reminded him of you (though, these had quickly become your favorites, too)

It was rare that the two of you weren’t together, though

Even during the day, you and Marcus were practically joined at the hip

At lunch, you would hold hands under the table and share food

Of course, this always opened the door for plenty of teasing from your friends, especially Lex

“While you’re at it, why don’t you chew the food up for each other and pass it back and forth like little birds?”

“Fuck off, Lex”

It was always in good fun, though

Actually, the other Rats were relieved when the two of you finally got together because the weird tension that had been brewing leading up to that point went away, meaning group hangouts could carry on normally

They could overlook you sitting in Marcus’s lap if it meant you weren’t being distant and secretive

Just like they pretended not to notice when you showed up to class wearing each other’s blazers by mistake after spending the night together

Or walking in late looking ✨especially disheveled✨

All in all, you and Marcus are King’s Dominion’s cutest couple™️ that only, like, five other people know about, but still-

[bajisbabe]

# YANDERE HEADCANNONS

[Gagamaru + Kuon]

warnings: yandere, kidnap, manipulation, gaslighting, manga spoilers, stalking, coerced affection, brief mention of nonconsensual kissing and touching.

anon said: “can you please write for yandere kuon wataru and gagamaru from blue lock??”

word count: 1.2k

song: none.

photo cred (left to right): 2

@ GAGAMARU

For the sake of plot convenience, we’ll say this takes place after the events of Blue Lock.

! manga spoiler ! I like to think that the project resulted in whoever’s left in the competition becoming one, big team.

Gagamaru became a famous soccer player for the national team.

You’d never see it coming.

Gagamaru is aloof with you, just like anyone else.

And yet, he manages to befriend you.

He isn’t sure how or even why he likes you, he just does. He can’t explain it.

But he feels the need to keep you all to himself. It takes time for him to act on the thought though.

He has a tendency to linger behind you whenever you converse with others.

He’s tall, towering over the general population—his height alone scares off any potential suitors of yours.

He’s clingy too, but not necessarily in the manner of touch.

He follows you around, and you’re aware because he insists on going wherever you go when you hang out regardless of if you’re with a group of mutual friends.

He’s kind enough to give you some space, but eventually that stops.

He makes offhanded comments about how he doesn’t like when you hang out with other people, or how you never spend any time with him.

You hardly think twice of it because he always has that blank expression on his face. Surely, if he felt strongly about what he said, his expression would change. Right?

You eventually spend less and less time with him and he doesn’t have the time to confront you now that he’s a big-time soccer player.

But your life turns upside down the moment the season comes to an end.

He has ample amount of free time and despite you being fully aware, you don’t go out of your way to come and see him.

He’s a fairly neutral guy, and doesn’t think too strongly of anything—except you and soccer, of course.

So when he has a choice between letting you run free and kidnapping you, he ultimately chooses to kidnap you. Because in his eyes, allowing you to go free is only driving you both further apart.

He doesn’t have to do much to get what he wants.

Now that he’s some big shot for the national team, he can instruct those below him on your kidnapping and call it a day.

No one dares to go up against a member of the team that is Japan’s only hope at the World Cup.

You’re taken, and caged up in his penthouse.

It’s nice and spacious and he gives you free reign of the place. But he won’t let you leave.

Doesn’t bother to push his luck. He’s not stupid, he knows that you’ll fight back and he doesn’t mind. He’ll let you wear yourself out.

Allows you to do your own thing, but you cannot touch or hold anything that can be used as a weapon.

And you have access to the phone and the internet. He doesn’t mind if you try to escape because he knows his PR team will just cover it up for the sake of the national team.

Try as you might, you’ll likely never escape him.

He doesn’t bother to threaten or hurt anyone you know. And he wouldn’t dream of putting his hands on you that way either.

He’s not going to try to coax you into loving him. You being there is enough for him.

It’s virtually futile to fight against someone like himself. He’s lanky and strong, it wouldn’t be in your best interest to try anything of the sort with him.

And if you get violent, he could always just restrain you by holding a large hand to your forehead and angling you in a way that your swinging arms can’t reach.

Just for reference, his hands are large enough to wrap around half of a soccer ball and have his fingertips peek over from one side.

Wouldn’t force physical affection, but would ask.

Thumbing his lips while watching you frown, your own lips pulled between your teeth. He’d ask quietly, eyes wide and blank, “If I wanted to,” his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and slides his tongue over his lower lip. “Would you let me kiss you?”

Say no, and he’ll leave you be. But if you hesitate or even say yes, it’ll be a hesitant and quick peck. But he likes it and would want more if you’re willing.

@ KUON

You can fight him and tell him you hate him, but he won’t care.

! manga spoiler ! He betrayed his own team. He isn’t a good guy, just know that.

! manga spoiler ! From what I can see, he didn’t make the cut.

He doesn’t play soccer anymore and has no dreams of going professional any longer.

He has to find something else—someone else—to take up his time.

Thinks that him being eliminated from the Blue Lock is no fault of his own.

Considers himself pitiable and longs for vague reparation.

And unfortunately on your part, that reparation comes in the form of you, which you’re completely unaware of.

You are likely someone who caught his eye after the events of Blue Lock.

Very selfish—thinks he deserves you.

He has no qualms about trying to appeal to you.

He knows he’s a loser, and that you won’t like him without a doubt.

But he might entertain the process of making you like him.

He’ll introduce himself to you, using his participation in Blue Lock to win your interest.

He comes off as kind and endearing, and you don’t see his obsessive tendencies coming.

When the red flags show, it’s too late.

Even still, you try to rid your life of him.

It doesn’t work. He merely gaslights you and tells you that you’re making things up.

It gets to the point where you finally manage to kick him out of your inner circle.

But he doesn’t give up.

You’ve been such a good distraction from his failure of a soccer career. He can’t imagine his life without you now.

He can’t just let you get away.

He decides to follow you around long enough to learn your schedule. And when you’re all on your own, he’ll take you.

You can scream and cry all you want, but it’s no use.

He’ll just pull that foxy grin of his and put on that facade again in a pathetic attempt to coax you into a false sense of security.

Of course, it doesn’t work, but it’s not like you can just up and leave.

He won’t let you.

Mean.

He’ll patronize you, manipulate you, and make you cry if he feels like it.

Likely switches between his kind facade and his true personality just to keep you on your toes.

Would definitely push his luck and try to get a kiss or two out of you.

You have no access to the outside world other than the TV, which he doesn’t allow you to watch without him. And he chooses the channels.

Presses you for affection.

If you want this, you’ll have to give him a hug. If you want that, you’ll have to hold his hand.

If you continue to refuse, it’ll get harder to ignore him.

Gets to a point where you’ll need to kiss him for a glass of water.

Eventually, he’ll drop the kind facade entirely because you’ll know him well enough by then to know his true personality.

Might threaten those you love.

[writing-good-vibes]

brad dourif characters x reader headcanons: marriage

marriage isn't for everyone but if you did tie the knot, there is no way it wouldn't be a wild ride with all of them, one way or another. warning for smut (mild).

charles lee ray

no one could ever accuse this man of being a romantic

(except he really, really is)

legally he doesn't care if you get married or not

but you suggest it first (not a proposal) and you both mutually agree to it

then he sort of proposes (with a ring and flowers) after you've already agreed

if you want a legal marriage it would have to be before any of his murders are he is known to the police

(he's already known for petty crime but getting married would really blow his cover if he's already a wanted murderer)

you go to the nearest courthouse and have a bare minimum ceremony

he wears the nicest suit he already owns

and you go out and get a white dress that you could wear again to a bar

you sign the papers

then you consummate your love in the ladies toilets

whether you go on honeymoon depends on how much money you have at the time

either you go to a tacky wedding motel or you stay in and don't leave the apartment for a week

either way you're having a lot of sex

like seriously

jack dante

it's hard work to get him to actually go through with the wedding

he is actually the one to propose to you

after sex of course

"babe, we should like, get hitched"

he means it, he does, but maybe in a more metaphorical way??

it takes some nagging but you finally get him to go down to the courthouse with you

there is definitely a legal/financial aspect of your marriage

like he may be the wild card employee but he gets paid ludicrously well for everything he contributes to the company (and to try and keep a little bit under control)

if something happened to him (and he has no doubt one day bob might just have him bumped off) he may as well give everything to you, there's no one else for it to go to

neither of you dress up for the ceremony

but you do buy some tacky bridal lingerie to wear underneath

another bare minimum ceremony

it's not your first rodeo doing it in a public restroom

it's almost romantic, a repeat of your first time

the white lacy panties are surprisingly very appreciated

you have to convince him to move back to his old apartment together now that you're married instead of hiding away at CHAANK

he honestly probably forgets you're even married until you bring it up

billy bibbit

he proposes to you

one day while you're at home on a sunday afternoon

lay together on the couch while you read

"h-hey, i h-h-have sssomething to a-ask you"

his stutters gets a tiny bit worse and you worry something is up

"l-l-listen, I-I rrreally love y-you a-a-a-and I-" he has to pause and collect himself

but you already know what he's going to ask and you can't keep from smiling

"w-will you m-m-mmmarry me?"

you throw your book aside and throw your arms around him

"yes! yes, of course I will billy!"

billy is a good christian boy so you have a good christian church wedding (unless you have other religious/secular preferences)

it's a very small wedding

only your favourite family members and closest friends come

same with billy

he feels incredibly guilty for not inviting his mother, but he hasn't seen her since he finally discharged himself from the hospital

you reassured him and remind him that this is the start of your lives together

he looks so dapper in his suit

you help him pick it out

he insists he doesn't want to see your dress until the big day

he cries when he sees you walk up the aisle

loves calling you his wife, and you calling him husband makes him feel wanted

puts your wedding photo in every room and carries it around in his wallet

sheriff brackett

he didn't expect he'd ever find someone he'd want to marry

(what with his last marriage ending the way it did)

when he realises he's truly in love with you, and you with him, he plans his proposal

it's nothing extravagant but it's absolutely perfect

you have a romantic dinner together and he does a whole speech about how much he loves you

and you see where it's going but you let him go on for a minute until you're like "do you want to ask me something?"

he flusters about it but is very cute and finally pops the question

"i - sweetie, i'd be honoured to make you my wife, will you marry me?"

you have a church wedding (unless you have other religious/secular preferences)

close family and friends only

cries when you walk down the aisle

annie gets very invested in helping with the planning and is probably more bothered about it than either of you are

you have a (very) classy dress

loves that he can call you his wife now !! the sheriff's wife !!

reception at your house, classic buffet

lowkey you both cannot wait untl everyone just leaves

*wink wink*

you do have a first dance in private though after everyone leaves

you're both soft and giggling and the song is a cheesy love song but it's perfect

your wedding night is the height of romance

your bridal lingerie really does it for him

what better start for your marriage than him making you cum so many times that you lose count?

doc cochran

you and doc didn't think you'd get married at all

neither of you felt the need to make anything official

you both consider yourself as his common law wife anyway

but something happens (either you get pregnant or some unrest with the camp politics makes the future seem uncertain) you decide you may as well tie the knot officially

there's no real proposal, he just sort of asks

you go to the Grand where E.B (being mayor) unfortunately has to officiate

you don't intend to invite anyone, saying it is no one elses business

but people catch wind (i.e. al, trixie and jane, merrick, maybe sol and seth) and basically invite themselves

you wear your best dress

and doc doesn't half scrub up well

Al invites you both back for a drink at the gem which you accept

("only one though, al" "sure, sure, you gotta get back home - the marriage bed is waiting - I understand")

the marriage bed is waiting though and you get kind of emotional when you go home together for the first time as husband and wife

funnily enough no one shows up at doc's that night for treatment and you have the whole night to yourselves

grima wormtongue

it takes you both a long time before you admit your feelings for each other and commit to having a relationship rather than a friends with benefits situation

marriages move fairly quickly in middle earth

no sooner are you engaged are you at the alter

wedding is moderately fancy because grima is doing pretty well being the king's adviser

few people actually show up who don't have to be there though because neither of you exactly have a lot of friends

grima almost clams up when it comes the ceremony because he doesnt want to say all this personal stuff about how much he loves you in front of other people

but you both get through it and finally, finally you are properly married

he's very emotional when you consummate your marriage but he tries to hide it

(but you know him too well)

tommy ludlow

he proposes one morning after sex

it's only just getting light and you both have to get up for work soon

you're still sweaty and his face is pressed into your neck

and in hushed tones you whisper back and forth

"will you marry me?"

it takes you a second to process what he said, "you wanna get married?"

"if you'll have me"

you kiss him and whisper "yes"

it's a church wedding for you and tommy (unless you have other religious/secular preferences)

he has a pretty big extended family and he has to invite them all

your dress and his suit are second hand

(because you're saving for better things)

laura takes a lot of photos for you

including the classic confetti toss one as you leave the church

takes you ages to comb all the confetti out of tommy's hair afterwards

cheesy first dance at the wedding reception

you can tell tommy is nervous so you joke around and make sure he doesn't take it too seriously

when you get home? goddamn you ride him like there's no tomorrow

(still in your wedding dress)

leo nova

it's go big or go home with him

80s fashion at its best

your dress is worth more than the rent on your old apartment

he doesn't see it before the wedding

you're surprised at how many traditions he sticks too despite him having the emotional range of a teaspoon

not many people get an invite to the ceremony but it's a wild after party

like a bunch of coked out 80s gangsters ?? amazing

the honeymoon is next level

you go to some tropical holiday resort (caribbean, thailand or spain) and it is all sun, sex and sangria for two whole weeks

tucker cleveland

didn't think he'd want to get married again

but in reality he just didn't like his first wife all that much

takes you out to dinner and proposes

when you say yes he is honestly relieved

but because he doesn't want to get emotional he calls over the waiter to get your free dessert

courthouse wedding

you do insist he wears a suit though and you buy a white dress

does the whole "just married" thing on the back of his truck

actually takes you on a honeymoon (sort of)

you go out of state and stay in a motel for a week

(vigorous sex ensues)

now you're married good and proper you can be his good little wifey

[percabeth4life]

i want to know the original version of hades and persephone story. there are so many versions I've read and i wanted to know which one do you believe in or which one do you think is the real one?

Okay so to start with. If we wanna really go back, Hades came into existence after Persephone. But alas, we aren't speaking of this version.

We are talking about the version where Hades sweeps Persephone away without so much as a hello.

The problem is a lot of the stories of Ancient Greece are well... They're lost. They were primarily shared through oral tradition, and written down over time. And so many stories we may not know. On top of that, many that were written down were lost, destroyed or just vanished, to time. Plus, we don't know how to translate Linear A, but we do Linear B, and there may be a version somewhere in Linear A. Overall, it's just possible we don't know the earlier versions.

But the earliest version we do have is from the Homeric Hymn, from the 7th or 6th B.C.E. This hymn is actually one to Demeter, not Hades or Persephone. The myth, while speaking of the two, is actually about Demeter.

It is, for the time period it is from (and you must keep in mind the culture of the time to understand the myth) a feminist myth.

So the culture of the time.

In the time period women did not have the greatest of rights, something improved upon today, but it means that the Father (and/or King) had full rights to hand their daughters off to another man.

That is what happens in this myth, Zeus tells Hades he may have Persephone's hand... But Persephone did not wish to go. And likewise Demeter was not informed.

By the culture of the time that does not matter, but Demeter *makes* it matter. She searches for her daughter first, then when she discovers where Persephone was taken and who was the cause (Zeus) she is angered.

Demeter then refuses to step upon Olympus, not allow any plants to grow, until she sees her daughter again.

This is obviously a problem, so Zeus sends Hermes down to retrieve Persephone (who btw was unhappy and missed her mom). Persephone leaps up with joy to see her mother again and Hades agrees immediately. But he secretly feeds her pomegranate seeds just to be sure she would return.

The reason this is a feminist myth is because of Demeter, because she refused to accept her king and her daughter's father handing their daughter off in marriage. And she refused to such an extent that they had no choice but to compromise with her (and had Hades not forced Persephone to have the pomegranate seed she wouldn't have even had to compromise).

For the culture of the time, Zeus and Hades were taking actions that were more than okay, nothing they did would be considered wrong. But Demeter stood against it.

Demeter stood for her daughter to not be married off, and demanded she be returned, and Persephone (tho she came to love Hades) was relieved to return to her mother.

Many of the "new adaptions" have Persephone wanting to leave Demeter, wanting to be with her husband, and Demeter being overbearing. But originally it was mutual love, Mother and Daughter missing each other and the Mother fighting to get her daughter back when everything of the time said she had no right to.

And so the myth as we know occurs. This is the myth I ascribe too, being the oldest we have, and I do wish more realized how Demeter's actions are why the myth is so important.

I have copied the Hymn in it's entirety below the cut. It is fairly long and four parts. If you have questions about it, feel free to ask!

Homeric Hymn 2 to Demeter (abridged) (trans. Evelyn-White) (Greek epic C7th or 6th B.C.) :

I. HAIDES ABDUCTS PERSEPHONE

"[Demeter's] trim-ankled daughter whom Aidoneus [Haides] rapt away, given to him by all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer. Apart from Demeter, lady of the golden sword and glorious fruits, she was playing with the deep-bosomed daughters of Okeanos and gathering flowers over a soft meadow, roses and crocuses and beautiful violets, irises also and hyacinths and the narcissus, which Gaia (the Earth) made to grow at the will of Zeus and to please Polydektor (Host of Many), to be a snare for the bloom-like girl--a marvellous, radiant flower. It was a thing of awe whether for deathless gods or mortal men to see: from its root grew a hundred blooms and it smelled most sweetly, so that all wide heaven (ouranos) above and the whole earth (gaia) and the sea's (thalassa) salt swell laughed for joy. And the girl was amazed and reached out with both hands to take the lovely toy : but the wide-pathed earth yawned there in the plain of Nysa, and the lord, Polydegmon (Host of Many) [Haides], with his immortal horses sprang out upon her--the Son of Kronos (Cronus), Polynomos (He Who has Many Names).

He caught her up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. Then she cried out shrilly with her voice, calling upon her father [Zeus], the Son of Kronos, who is most high and excellent. But no one, either of the deathless gods or mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tender-hearted Hekate (Hecate), bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaios (Persaeus), heard the girl from her cave, and the lord Helios (the Sun), Hyperion's bright son, as she cried to her father, the Son of Kronos. But he was sitting aloof, apart from the gods, in his temple where many pray, and receiving sweet offerings from mortal men. So he [Haides], that Son of Kronos, Polynomos (Of Many Names), Polysemantor (Ruler of Many) and Polydegmon (Host of Many), was bearing her away by leave of Zeus on his immortal chariot--his brother's child and all unwilling.

And so long as she, the goddess, yet beheld earth and starry heaven and the strong-flowing sea where fishes shoal, and the rays of the sun, and still hoped to see her dear mother and the tribes of the eternal gods, so long hope clamed her great heart for all her trouble . . . and the heights of the mountains and the depths of the sea ran with her immortal voice : and her queenly mother heard her.

II. DEMETER SEARCHES FOR PERSEPHONE

"Bitter pain seized her [Demeter's] heart, and she rent the covering upon her divine hair with her dear hands : her dark cloak she cast down from both her shoulders and sped, like a wild-bird, over the firm land and yielding sea, seeking her child. But no one would tell her the truth, neither god nor mortal man; and of the birds of omen none came with true news for her. Then for nine days queenly Deo wandered over the earth with flaming torches in her hands, so grieved that she never tasted ambrosia and the sweet draught of nektaros, nor sprinkled her body with water. But when the tenth enlightening dawn had come, Hekate, with a torch in her hands, met her, and spoke to her and told her news : ‘Queenly Demeter, bringer of seasons and giver of good gifts, what god of heaven (theon ouranion) or what mortal man has rapt away Persephone and pierced with sorrow your dear heart? For I heard her voice, yet saw not with my eyes who it was. But I tell you truly and shortly all I know.’

So, then, said Hekate. And [Demeter] the daughter of rich-haired Rheia answered her not, but sped swiftly with her, holding flaming torches in her hands. So they came to Helios (the Sun), who is watchman of both gods and men, and stood in front of his horses: and the bright goddess enquired of him : ‘Helios, do you at least regard me, goddess as I am, if ever by word or deed of mine I have cheered your heart and spirit. Through the fruitless air (aitheros) I heard the thrilling cry of my daughter whom I bare, sweet scion of my body and lovely in form, as of one seized violently; though with my eyes I saw nothing. But you--for with your beams you look down from the bright upper air (aitheros) over all the earth and sea--tell me truly of my dear child if you have seen her anywhere, what god or mortal man has violently seized her against her will and mine, and so made off.’

So said she. And the Son of Hyperion [Helios] answered her : ‘Queen Demeter, daughter of rich-haired Rheia, I will tell you the truth; for I greatly reverence and pity you in your grief for your trim-ankled daughter. None other of the deathless gods is to blame, but only cloud-gathering Zeus who gave her to Aides, her father's brother, to be called his buxom wife. And Aides seized her and took her loudly crying in his chariot down to his realm of mist and gloom. Yet, goddess, cease your loud lament and keep not vain anger unrelentingly : Aidoneus Polysemantor (Ruler of Many) is no unfitting husband among the deathless gods for your child, being your own brother and born of the same stock: also, for honour, he has that third share which he received when division was made at the first, and is appointed lord of those among whom he dwells.’

So he spake, and called to his horses: and at his chiding they quickly whirled the swift chariot along, like long-winged birds. But grief yet more terrible and savage came into the heart of Demeter, and thereafter she was so angered with [Zeus] the dark-clouded Son of Kronos that she avoided the gathering of the gods and high Olympos. She [Demeter] vowed that she would never set foot on fragrant Olympos nor let fruit spring out of the ground until she beheld with her eyes her own fair-faced daughter.

III. THE RETURN OF PERSEPHONE

"Now when all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer heard this, he sent Argeiphontes [Hermes] whose wand is of gold to Erebos, so that having won over Aides with soft words, he might lead forth chaste Persephoneia to the light from the misty gloom to join the gods, and that her mother might see her with her eyes and cease from her anger. And Hermes obeyed, and leaving the house of Olympos, straightway sprang down with speed to the hidden places of the earth. And he found the lord Aides in his house seated upon a couch, and his shy mate with him, much reluctant, because she yearned for her mother. But she was afar off, brooding on her fell design becuase of the deeds of the blessed gods. And strong Argeiphontes [Hermes] drew near and said : ‘Dark-haired Aides, ruler over the departed, father Zeus bids me bring noble Persephone forth from Erebos unot the gods, that her mother may see her with her eyes and cease from her dread anger with the immortals; for now she plans an awful deed, to destroy the weakly tribes of earth-born men by keeping seed hidden beneath the earth, and so she makes an end of the honours of the undying gods. For she keeps fearful anger and does not consort with the gods, but sits aloof in her fragrant temple, dwelling in the rocky hold of Eleusis.’

So he said. And Aidoneus, ruler over the dead, smiled grimly and obeyed the behest of Zeus the king. For he straightway urged wise Persephone, saying : ‘Go now, Persephoneia, to your dark-robed mother, go, and feel kindly in your heart towards me : be not so exceedingly cast down; for I shall be no unfitting husband for you among the deathless dods, that am own brother to father Zeus. And while you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods : those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, reverently performing rites and paying fit gifts, shall be punished for evermore.’

When he said this, wise Persephoneia was filled with joy and hastily sprang up for gladness. But he on his part secretly gave her sweet pomegranate seed to eat, taking care for himself that she might not remain continually with grave, dark-robed Demeter. Then Aidoneus Polysemantor (Ruler of Many) openly got ready his deathless horses beneath the golden chariot. And she mounted on the chariot, and strong Argeiphontes [Hermes] took reins and whip in his dear hands and drove forth from the hall, the horses speeding readily. Swiftly they traversed their long course, and neither the sea nor river-waters nor grassy glens nor mountain-peaks checked the career of the immortal horses, but they cleft the deep air above them as they went. And Hermes brought them to the place where rich-crowned Demeter was staying and checked them before her fragrant temple.

And when Demeter saw them, she rushed forth as does a Mainas (Maenad) down some thick-wooded mountain, while Persephone on the other side, when she saw her mother's sweet eyes, left the chariot and horses, and leaped down to run to her, and falling upon her neck, embraced her. But while Demeter was still holding her dear child in her arms, her heart suddenly misgave her for some snare, so that she feared greatly and ceased fondling her daughter and asked of her at once : ‘My child, tell me, surely you have not tasted any food while you were below? Speak out and hide nothing, but let us both know. For if you have not, you shall come back from loathly Aidao and live with me and your father [Zeus], the dark-clouded Son of Kronos and be honoured by all the deathless gods; but if you have tasted food, you must fo back again beneath the secret places of the earth, there to dwell a third part of the seasons every year: yet for the tow parts you shall be with me and the other deathless gods. But when the earth shall bloom with the fragrant flowers of spring in every kind, then from the realm of darkness and gloom thou shalt come up once more to be a wonder for gods and mortal men. And now tell me how he rapt you away to therealm of darkness and gloom, and by what trick did strong Polydegmon (Host of Many) [Haides] beguile you?’

Then beautiful Persephone answered her thus : ‘Mother, I will tell you all without error. When luck-bringing Hermes came, swift messenger from my father the Son of Kronos and the other Sons of Ouranos, bidding me come back from Erebos that you might see me with your eyes and so cease from your anger and fearful wrath against the gods, I sprang up at once for joy; but he secretly put in my mouth sweet food, a pomegranate seed, and forced me to taste against my will. Also I will tell how he rapt me away by the deep plan of my father [Zeus] the Son of Kronos and carried me off beneath the depths of the earth, and will relate the whole matter as you ask. All we were playing in a lovely meadow, Leukippe and Phaino and Elektra and Ianthe, Melite also and Iakhe with Rhodea and Kallirhoe and Melobosis and Tykhe and Okyrhoe, fair as a flower, Khryseis, Ianeira, Akaste and Admete and Rhodope and Plouto and charming Kalypso; Styx too was there and Ourania and lovely Galaxaure with Pallas who rouses battles and Artemis delighting in arrows: we were playing and gathering sweet flowers in our hands, soft crocuses mingled with irises and hyacinths, and rose-blooms and lilies, marvellous to see, and the narcissus which the wide earth caused to grow yellow as a crocus. That I plucked in my joy; but the earth parted beneath, and there the strong lord, Polydegmon (Host of Many) [Haides] sprang forth and in his golden chariot he bore me away, all unwilling, beneath the earth : then I cried with a shrill cry. All this is true, sore though it grieves me to tell this tale.’

So did they then, with hearts at one, greatly cheer each the other's soul and spirit with many an embrace: their hearts had relief from their griefs while each took and gave back joyousness. Then bright-coiffed Hekate came near to them, and often did she embrace the daughter of holy Demeter: and from that time the lady Hekate was minister and companion to Persephone.

IV. GIFT OF AGRICULTURE & THE ELEUSINIAN MYSTERIES

"And all-seeing Zeus sent a messenger to them, rich-haired Rheia, to bring dark-cloaked Demeter to join the families of the gods (phyla theon) : and he promised to give her what rights she should choose among the deathless gods and agreed that her daughter should go down for the third part of the circling year to darkness and gloom, but for the two parts should live with her mother and the other deathless gods. Thus he commanded. And the goddess did not disobey the message of Zeus; swiftly she rushed down from the peaks of Olympos and came to the plain of Rharos, rich, fertile corn-land once, but then in nowise fruitful, for it lay idle and utterly leafless, because the white grain was hidden by design of trim-ankled Demeter. But afterwards, as spring-time waxed, it was soon to be waving with long ears of corn, and its rich furrows to be loaded with grain upon the ground, while others would already be bound in sheaves. There first she landed from the fruitless upper air (aitheros) : and glad were the goddesses to see each other and cheered in heart. Then bright-coiffed Rheia said to Demeter : ‘Come, my daughter; for far-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer calls you to join the families of the gods, and has promised to give you what rights you please among the deathless gods, and has agreed that for a third part of the circling year your daughter shall go down to darkness and gloom, but for the two parts shall be with you and the other deathless gods: so has he declared it shall be and has bowed his head in token. But come, my child, obey, and be not too angry unrelentingly with the dark-clouded Son of Kronos; but rather increase forthwith for men the fruit that gives them life.’

So spake Rheia. And rich-crowned Demeter did not refuse but straightway made fruit to spring up from the rich lands, so that the whole wide earth was laden with leaves and flowers.

Then she [Demeter] went to [the leaders of Eleusis] . . . she showed them the conduct of her rites and taught them all her mysteries . . . awful mysteries which no one may in any way transgress or pry into or utter, for deep awe of the gods checks the voice. Happy is he among men upon earth who has seen these mysteries; but he who is uninitiate and who has no part in them, never has lot of like good things once he is dead, down in the darkness and gloom. But when the bright goddess had taught them all, they went to Olympos to the gathering of the other gods. And there they dwell beside Zeus who delights in thunder, awful and reverend goddesses. Right blessed is he among men on earth whom they freely love: soon they do send Ploutos (Plutus, Wealth) as guest to his great house, Ploutos who gives wealth to mortal men.

And now . . . queen Deo, be gracious, you and your daughter all beauteous Persephoneia, and for my song grant me heart-cheering substance."