#how i would lay my whole life at his feet and make every moment an act of devotion

[wildsaltair]

in a better world, he’s my beloved husband

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Unhinged two

Jason Todd x Reader

MDNI

(part one)

wc: 1.2 K summary: your roommate finds your messages you send your friend about him. warnings: suggestive content, no y/n used a/n: since some of you wanted a part two of this, I gladly made one. (this came out a little rushed as well, not proofread! sorry!!) Enjoy!!

The moment he left the room, you grabbed your phone and made sure to never open that chat again. You still feel borderline embarrassed and ashamed, realising how weird it is.

Sighing out, you calm yourself down and sip on your tea, hands trembling from your racing heart. After another exhale, you start to think of what to do.

You need to apologise. That‘s the least you could do with a situation like this, after… you can‘t even think about it!

From the silence that lingers around the whole apartment, it‘s clear that Jason is probably expiriencing a mental breakdown too. Now that you think about it, you can‘t really imagine how he feels like after finding out about your dirty thoughts about him.

You don‘t even finish your tea before you sprint off the living room, throwing over your coat and storm outside to get him a proper apology.

Meanwhile, Jason is concerned. He started to look for his therapist‘s number on his phone, but hesitated actually clicking on it. What, should he say that he read through his roommate‘s messages and now wants to kill himself because of the pure filth that was written about him?

No, surely no one will believe him, or at least make fun of him if they believe him.

The safest option would be to keep it for himself, or tell Dick. Yeah, the safest option would be to keep it to himself.

Outisde of his room, he hears the front door click open again, laying his phone down as he contemplates wether to go out or not. His thoughts get interrupted once he hears soft knocks against it.

»Yeah?« Shit, he should‘ve said he is busy.

»Can I come in? I, um… I need to apologise.«

A hint of shame comes through your tone, head hanging low behind the door. There‘s clearly nothing more pathetic than this situation. The silence that follows after only makes your nerves run higher, making your shift on your feet.

»‘Kay.«

Jason is great at pretending to be non-chalant. But it‘s an answer, at least.

So you walk in. And stop in the doorframe, boquet of flowers in hand, his favourite order at the local fast food restaurant in the other. A pathetic expression on your face. He has to stop himself from reacting surprised and both pleased at the action, remembering what happened just a few moments ago.

»So… about those messages. I won‘t sugarcoat it, I did send them, there‘s no excuse I can use. But I won‘t do that again and I don‘t actually think of you in that way. I just… had to describe to my friend how you look like.«

You shrug at the end, placing the smaller paperbag onto his nightstand and hold the boquet in both of your hands for now. It‘s difficult, embarrassing and devistating, saying something in hopes that he will forgive you and let you stay in the shared apartment.

Truth be told, Jason couldn‘t feel more touched by this, trying so hard to keep his composure. He fails either way, the corners of his mouth curling up ever so faintly as he shakes his head.

»You didn‘t need to bring me flowers for that, but… thanks? And, I won‘t look into your phone again. Ever.«

That‘s a relief, handing over the boquet of flowers anyway. He takes them, finally smiling down at them. That‘s not how he expected to receive flowers, he never thought he would get them at some point in his life anyway.

»There‘s also you favourite order, I‘ll leave for now, just… uh— don‘t kick me out.«

Now he has to chuckle, putting the flowers away before he takes a look into the bag of food.

»Oh, I won‘t. It would be boring without you, no?«

He muses as he glances back up to you, an amused and teasing glint in his eye. Of course… he will never let you live that down.

From then on, every time you were slightly annoyed over something he did, Jason simply pulled out the ‚Remember how you talked about me to your friend?‘-card and instantly makes you shut up. But sometimes, you ignore that and go on about the rant you were currently holding.

»No, Jason, I don‘t care, and this happened two months ago! You should be able to clean at least the counter after cooking or baking something.«

You track back to the current argument, waving frustrated to the countertop that has traces from flour and butter.

Instead of getting hissy too, he simply tilts his head, boxing you up against said counter.

»Say again?«

You go silent, staring up at him with big, shocked eyes, standing there at a loss of words.

In short, his ego grew a lot bigger after the initial shock wore off. He started to use such tactics in harmless arguments, before he just used them randomly to tease you. And lucky for him, it worked every damn time. He is sure you already texted every single encounter like this to your dear friend – and he is dying to know if his theory is true – but he won‘t check your phone again, simply too scared at the same time.

On the other hand, you are secretly enjoying it. No, loving it. What do you mean your hot roommate flirts with you randomly for no reason? You would never trade that for anything else.

The same thing happens on a casual saturday, leaning over the kitchen counter as you scroll through some new recipes on your phone. Jason walks in through the front door, ever so silent that you don‘t notice him coming in, before you hear his soft voice mumble near your ear.

»Watcha cooking?« His hand rests on the counter by your side, dangerously close for your own comfort. But you wont back away or say anything against it, answering him back instead.

»Nothing yet. Looking through stuff.«

He hums in acknowledgement, resting his chin on your shoulder while he watches your phone too.

»Wanna cook something together, then? I brought some groceries.« His hand brushes against your side as he leans away, starting to sort through the bag and put the stuff away that he bought.

After an easy agreement, you both settle on making something simple for dinner, not wanting to waste your energy on something new.

Cooking with him would be relaxing, if his hand wouldn‘t linger around your back or waist every minute. You grew used to it after some time, but it still never fails to make you slightly distracted on your current task.

In general, you noticed that Jason became way more touchy with you after the incident, as well as teasing. You try not mentioning it and simply never talk about it in hopes this will never end, but he secretly wishes you would.

He made a single masterplan in his mind on ultimately asking you out once you start to mention his antics, but there‘s no luck so far. Okay, guilty as charged, he did talk about that with his brother Dick. He follows his advice half-heartedly, hoping for some miracle to happen at the same time until you notice his signs.

←MASTERLIST

[hyunsvngs]

kinktober !

kink: period sex

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

wc: 2.6k

period sex: sexual activity that happens while at least one partner is menstruating or on their period.

It was the worst form of torture. Every month, your period would leave you feeling the horniest you’d ever felt, and it was even worse when you had a sex god boyfriend who would walk around looking so tasty. In all honesty, he could walk around wearing anything and it’d still have you wanting to shove your hand down your panties and get yourself off. But you couldn’t. Not while he was there, being so lovely and caring for you through the most horrible cramps you’d ever felt in your life.

“How are you feeling now, baby?” Minho murmured. You’d been laying practically on top of him, a cat shaped hot water bottle trapped between your stomachs as you half-watched the movie that was on. You’d been too horny to even pay attention to it, and you weren’t even sure what the fucking thing was called. Minho had been watching, though. He was a stranger to your internal suffering. 

“I’m comfy, thanks, Min,” You replied, kissing his cheek. You didn’t miss the way the tips of his ears still burned red, even after so long. He was so cute, but you wanted his dick. Time to change the subject. “I hate cramps. They’re awful, y’know? They say dark chocolate helps.”

“Want me to get you some? I can drive to the shop,” Minho asked, his hand rubbing circles on the small of your back. You hummed, shaking your head.

“I don’t even like dark chocolate, it was just something stupid I saw years ago,” You said, and Minho chuckled, shaking his head fondly. Then, he turned to you, his eyes soft as he looked you up and down. He always looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen - even when you were suffering an intense period-caused acne breakout and wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of fluffy pyjama bottoms. 

“I heard something similar,” He began, biting his lip. “I heard orgasms help. Have you tried getting yourself off, baby?”

Oh, he was too sweet. Always looking for solutions to make you feel better. “Well… Min, I can’t exactly get myself off while you’re here. That’d be weird.”

“I’d love every second of it,” He was serious, but you still giggled, poking his cheek playfully. “Baby, in all seriousness, if you want me to fuck you, I will. A bit of blood will not bother me.”

You blinked, leaning up. “You’d really do that?”

Minho chuckled, kissing you chastely. “It’s blood, baby. It’s really not a big deal. I’ll lay a towel down.”

You stared at him for a moment, and he stared back, raising an eyebrow in questioning. Then, you yanked the fluffy cat hot water bottle out from between you and kissed him. He just deserved a kiss for that, but he still let out a little ‘mmph’ in shock at your boldness. “Minho,” You mumbled against his lips, and he hummed in response. “I’m so fucking horny, you don’t even understand. Every fucking period, you walk around looking so hot, and I could’ve just asked this whole time?”

“Baby, I look like this all month,” He chuckled, kissing you again. “Honestly though, yeah. You could’ve just asked, dummy.”

“Oh my God,” You sighed, curling into him more to kiss his neck. He let you mouth your way down his soft skin, and you sucked a mark into his collarbone where you knew it wouldn’t be seen. He scoffed out a laugh, his hand moving to rub over your ass instead. “Oh my God, Minho, get a fucking towel.”

He was still laughing when he stood up, shaking his head as he grabbed an old towel from his wardrobe. You belatedly realised that oh, he’d see the blood, and you were starting to feel a little less confident. When you hadn’t moved from the bed to let him lay the towel down, he tilted his head at you in confusion. 

“You can’t look, okay?” You gushed, jumping up from the mattress. Minho bit his lip, hiding a laugh. You pouted, stomping your feet in a mild tantrum. “I’m going to pull my pants down, and you have to close your eyes, because there will be blood on my pad. Okay?”

“Baby,” Minho shut his eyes, shaking his head. When he opened them again, you could see the amusement in them, and it made you pout even harder. “I’d be shocked if there wasn’t blood on your pad, y’know? Given that you’re on your period.”

“Well, yeah, but still-”

“Come here,” He commanded. You couldn’t deny that tone of voice, even if you were mid-tantrum and shy. You walked over to him, and he tossed the towel onto the bed, wrapping his arm around your waist. You let him kiss down your neck like he’d done to you, biting at the skin and humming when you let out a choked noise. “I think you’re so fucking sexy, you know that?”

“You’re sexy,” You protested, and he shook his head against your skin. He pulled away from your neck, using two fingers to get you to look into his eyes. You were practically melting. 

“I’m gonna get you naked the way I always do,” He said, and his tone was firm. You wanted to protest, to make a big deal, but he shook his head before you could even speak. “I’m going to get you naked the way I always do. I’m gonna take my time worshipping those tits, and then I’m going to fuck you and get you to cream nice and wet on my cock. I do not care about blood. Okay?”

You blinked. You couldn’t even argue with that, really. “Okay.”

“God, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?” He murmured, his eyes dark and staring directly into yours. “Letting me fuck you like this. What a good fucking girl, huh?”

“I need you so bad,” You whimpered, and Minho chuckled. You gasped when he wrapped his hand around your throat, a light pressure but there nonetheless, and then he was kissing you. It was different to his soft, loving kisses on the bed, his tongue demanding dominance inside your mouth and making you whine. You couldn’t protest when he ran his hands up your back underneath your shirt, and you definitely couldn’t protest when his hands gripped your ass firmly. He was such a fucking wet dream.

You watched in awe as he yanked his shirt off from behind his neck, revealing planes of milky skin and toned biceps. You didn’t even hide your gaze, your eyes running over him in delight as you felt the arousal pool in your stomach. He pushed you back against the bed, somehow landing you directly on top of the towel as he made quick work of your shirt. You weren’t wearing a bra for comfort purposes, and he made a sound akin to a growl as he saw your tits, nipples pebbled against the cold chill of the room. 

“Baby, these tits,” He moaned, grabbing them both with his hands. “They’re fuller, huh?”

“It’s the period,” You gasped, letting him tweak your nipples with his fingers almost painfully. He knew how you liked it. “You like them?”

“I like them every fucking day,” He responded quickly, wrapping his lips around one of the buds and sucking. You let out a choked noise, feeling the sensitivity of them from your current state. Minho perked up, grinning. “Are they sensitive?”

“I think every part of me is fucking sensitive, God, please fuck me,” You gushed, spreading your legs and letting him get between them. Minho chuckled, letting his tongue run over your nipple again. 

His fingers went to the waistband of your fluffy rabbit pyjama bottoms, playing with the fabric. He raised an eyebrow at you, and his facial expression was soft, fond. “Can I take these off, baby?”

You bit your lip. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure I want to fuck you all the time, so yes,” He said, grinning. You held your breath as he pulled your pants down, taking your underwear with them and tossing them to the floor. He hadn’t looked, and you knew he did it to make you feel comfortable. You loved him so much it made your heart swell. His eyes dragged down your body, his hand stroking softly over your tummy and eyes landing on your pussy. Oh, God. “Fucking beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

“Can you get naked now?” You shifted impatiently. Minho smiled, nodding, and then he was pulling his own bottoms down. You were more than delighted to see he’d foregone underwear, cock springing out and looking solid. You leaned forward instantly, letting your lips brush his as you wrapped your hand round the base of his cock, the trimmed hairs tickling your skin. “This fucking cock. It’s so amazing.”

“He likes you too,” Minho mumbled against your lips, kissing them chastely. “You gonna jerk me off a bit, baby?”

You sighed. “I wanna suck it, to be honest.”

Minho shook his head, letting his hand fall to yours and moving it on his shaft. “I will cum instantly if you suck me off right now,” He admitted, leaning down to run his tongue over your nipple again. You jolted, moaning and starting to pump his cock steadily. You tightened your hand a little bit more at the tip, just the way he likes it, and his cock leaked just a bit of precum in approval. “Something about this, baby. The way you trust me so much. I think I could die.”

You giggled, moving your hands to pull him in at his waist. “I think I’ll die if you don’t fuck me. I need to cum on your cock so bad.”

“Yeah?” Minho asked, but the look on his face told you he was very aware. He positioned his cock at your pussy, letting the tip run through your folds teasingly. “I think I’ll fuck you then.”

“God, do you want me to beg?” You huffed, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I’m not above begging.”

“I know, I have you begging for it every night,” He mused, and then he was pushing inside. The stretch startled you, and you moaned loudly, making Minho chuckle. He bottomed out easily, the slide wet and your pussy more than pliant for him. You were sure your pussy was moulded to the shape of his cock at that point. “How do you want it? Tell me, baby.”

“I- oh, deep, hard?” You said, voice lilted as if it was a question. “Give it to me the way I like it, you know.”

“Yeah?” Minho asked, starting to thrust into you steadily. You moaned, clenching tight on his cock. You were so sensitive, unabashed moans and whines falling from parted lips and echoing around Minho’s room. “You want me to call you my slut, so desperate for my cock? You want me to fuck you senseless?”

“Oh, oh-” You keened, and Minho laughed, kissing your neck. His cock was solid, hard inside of you, and the way he was thrusting into you was such a smooth, slick slide that it had you wanting to cum instantly. 

“Yeah, you are my slut, aren’t you?” He murmured against your skin, and when he pulled away to look at you, you were left breathless. His hair was dark, flopping over his forehead but not obscuring his beautiful features, his pouty lips parted and exposing his cute bunny teeth. They pressed at his bottom lip as he fucked into you, and when you looked into his dark, feline eyes, all you could see was love. You couldn’t help but moan, nodding. You let your fingers grip onto his biceps for stability. “I know, I know, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You gasped as he pushed his thumb into your mouth, and you were quick to suck on it dutifully, running your tongue over his digit. He pressed it in deep, swirling it around your tongue and staring at you with half-lidded eyes. You startled when he reached down, rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Min, the blood-”

“Ssh,” He urged you, shaking his head. He pushed one leg back with his other hand, letting it fall over his shoulder and fucking you deeper with his thumb massaging circles into your sensitive bud. “I know how to make this pussy cum, don’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah, you do,” You agreed, nodding. His chest pushed your thigh into your tits, leaning over you to kiss you once, filthily and deep. His thumb didn’t let up and neither did his thrusts, his cock bullying into your hole over and over and making you whine. “Jesus, Minho, your cock is fucking amazing.”

“It’s all yours, baby,” Minho’s voice was strained, hips stuttering against you. “Baby, you’re so wet, I don’t know if I can hold out.”

“Min, please,” You begged, eyes bleary. “I’m- I need to cum, Minho.”

“Fuck, fuck, yeah, I know,” He gasped, eyes rolling back into his head. It was a rare sight seeing Minho pussydrunk - he normally held out for a lot longer than you did, but clearly the added wetness on his cock was a little bit too much for him. “Feel me, baby. Focus on my cock. It’s so fucking hard for you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You gasped, bucking your hips into his thrusts. He pinched your clit meanly, smirking when it made you squeal. Your chest heaved, a sheen of sweat forming on your skin. 

“Gorgeous fucking girl. Your little pussy always needs me, kitty,” He moaned, grunting into your neck with every thrust. You were getting close, his ministrations too much to handle when combined with his filthy words. “Fuckin’ slut. My slut, yeah? Always needing me, needing my fucking cock inside of you.”

You whined, nodding. You’d started to bounce on his cock now, letting him pinch and rub your clit to send you into oblivion. “Always need it, oh, oh, Min, mean, be mean-”

“Be mean, kitty?” He scoffed. You gasped when he moved his hand from your thigh, and then he was slapping you across the face, a light slap but definitely there nonetheless. Your eyebrows furrowed, lips parting. “Got me pussydrunk, kitty. Fucking minx.”

“‘M gonna cum, Minho,” You warned, your sopping walls fluttering around his cock happily. “I’m gonna fucking cum, you’re gonna make me cum, oh-”

“Yeah?” He moaned, his noises getting higher in pitch. He was getting close. “I’m gonna cum with you. Do you want it? Do you want my cum?”

“Always want your cum, oh, breed me, Min, I’ll soak your cock-”

You let out a loud whine, digging your fingernails into his shoulders almost painfully as you came. You felt your pussy gushing on your boyfriend’s cock, soaking his length and moaning like a fucking pornstar all the way through your orgasm. Minho tensed, his hands grabbing your hips. His hips stopped completely, cock bottomed out inside you as he filled you with his cum. 

He collapsed on you, his weight a welcomed addition. “I’m not g’na pull out yet ‘cause I know you’ll get shy,” He mumbled, kissing your sweaty skin. You giggled, nodding. 

“Do you wanna take a bath?” You asked, running your fingers up his back. 

“I can’t think of anything better, baby,” He sighed. “I said I was going to fuck you senseless but I think you’ve just fucked me.”

“On the upside, my cramps are gone,” You grinned. Minho looked up at you, kissing your nose fondly. 

“Let me know if they’re back,” He said, eyes earnest. “I’ll just have to fuck you again, since you don’t like dark chocolate.”

“Really hate the stuff,” You hummed, nodding. “I like you though.”

Minho giggled, his nose scrunching up cutely. “I like you too, baby.”

[tenjikufag]

dude im a cornball and a hornball at thr same time and i found out when i saw jiyans slutty ahh WAIST 😍 SO i humbly request for jiyan x top male reader smut 😭 maybe after a td outbreak hes all tired n stuff so reader takes care of him the whole night <33

Reward.

Jiyan x Top!Male Reader

-SMUT!, fluffy, sub(?) Jiyan etc it’s smut there’s nothing more to it ?

-THANK YOU FOR THE REQ!! I adore this man. Going from story line though ah hope that’s okay.

Jiyan groaned, his body and mind tired from the TD outbreak and having to attend the summer games almost directly afterwards. Rover was a nice change of pace to have around, made his own life easier and eased a lot of social tension present from attending while being.. well him. He’s the general, and anyone under him would feel a certain way about having him in their party.

But, none of that mattered because he wanted nothing more than to return home to you- you’d been one of the resonators to stay back to protect the city borders and while you were absolutely fine and unscathed.. he couldn’t keep you out of his thoughts the whole time.

His body craved to feel you after it all, with everything being so crazy since Rover had woken and almost seemingly set off every catalyst to the impending outbreak.. you weren’t around nearly enough for his liking.

—

Jiyan felt his feet start to drag, his ankles almost jelly when the home the two of you shared came into view. A soft smile teased his lips when he finally reached the front door.

“Ji? Is that you?”

Your voice released the tension he held in his jaw and shoulders; quickly he followed your voice, without a single second wasted his arms wrapped around your torso.

“It’s nice to see you too, love. Go get washed up and I’ll have your clothes and blankets ready on the bed..”

“Just let me hold you for a moment longer..”

Smiling, you let him squeeze you. You could feel how tense his joints were, his new scratches and bruises would surely appear within the next hours but you’d tend to them when he was clean. The male finally, but reluctantly, let go and made his way to the bathroom to shower.

You were relieved to know he was relatively okay, obviously exhausted but okay nonetheless. It was time to prep his reward, a massage!

It was routine.

—

Setting his things out on the bed, the water shut off and he slinked out of the bathroom, followed by the steam.

“Lay down, I have everything ready. Just relax.”

His long damp hair cascaded down his body, swaying with every step he took to lay down on the bed- stomach down and he cuddled into the pillows.

Squirting a bit of lotion into your hands, you warmed it up and started from his legs up.

Your partner had no real reaction aside from sighs of relief but when you started his thighs, he started to moan.

“Right there, ugh.. press deeper..”

Chuckling, you complied. The higher you went, more he moaned and whined.

His waist and back were the most sensitive.

And you loved teasing him..

Digging your thumbs into his hips, he whined and arched his back. You circled around the flesh, relishing in his shaky breathes and the way he gripped the sheets.

“Don’t get too excited Jiyan, we aren’t even half way..”

Leaning up to his ear, you whispered to him and gave him light praises.

“You did such a good job, general.. I’m so glad I get to make you feel so good~”

Gliding your thumbs up his sides, you rubbed inwards to his tacet mark.

Not many non resonators knew, but a tacet mark is incredibly sensitive. Despite needing to be exposed to be used, the marking was sensitive to the touch.

Jiyan adored when you touched it, making his body flush with arousal at the tender care you took with each pass you made at it.

The male laid huffing under you, blush evident from his ears.

“So lewd, general. I almost think you’d want something else, Hm?”

You brought your hand towards his glutes and massaged deeply into the plush flesh. Earning a breathy moan from him.

“I want my reward.. please..”

“Oh? What’s that? What does my sweet boy want?”

“It’s my reward, please.. stop messing around..”

Smiling softly, you complied. Getting off the bed and grabbing oils. Returning to the bed you kneeled behind him, his legs straddled under your own.

“I apologize, you’re right. You did so well, such a good job, and still managed to come back to me~ how lucky am I?”

Massaging the oil onto his ass, you slowly made you ways towards his entrance- lightly separating his cheeks and letting oil drip onto his hole.

The male was already moaning freely under you, twitching slightly every time you ghosted over his entrance.

“Are you ready?”

He groaned out a “yes please” and that would have to suffice for now.

Scooping more oil into your hand, you toyed around the rim and slipped a finger in. His ass clenched around your finger before relaxing, allowing you to move around.

It wasn’t long until you slipped two in, then three.

Jiyan raised his hips, almost chasing after your hand every time you pulled out.

“Such a good boy. So good for me.”

Reaching your hand around, you grabbed his hard dick- it was throbbing in your hand and all of his precum made it easy to start jerking him off.

He moved his head to the side to peak at you behind him, mouth open and gasping.

“More. Give me more.”

Pulling away your hands, you wiped them off on the towel beside your partner.

You undressed, far too slow for your partners liking. He flipped to lay on his back and raised his legs for you.

His face was flushed, a faint dribble of drool on the corner of his lips.. he was a sight to behold, truly.

You loomed over him, tip barely poking into him as you looked into his glazed eyes. Leaning down, you caught his lips and he eagerly accepted- letting your tongue explore his mouth and bite his lips.

He whimpered when you pulled away, only to quickly clasp a hand over his mouth when you finally slid into him.

“You gotta relax Ji.. your squeezin’ too hard..”

Hissing, his ass almost painfully gripped you and sucked you in deeper. You leaned down again and kissed his neck to ease his tightness. The more he moaned, the less pressure you felt around you.

When he was finally relaxed, you started thrusting into his at an even, mild, pace. Just like he liked.

This was a reward after all, he needed to be pampered and cared for.

With every thrust, he gasped and tried to grab something. Whether it was the sheets, his own hair, your arms, anything. His need to grab something always led to him pulling you close and scratching your back out of desperation.

His nails dug into your skin as he cried in pleasure. You hissed with every pass his nails made, running over the same spots over and over.

“I’m gonna..”

He came all over his stomach, eyes tightly held shut. His body tensed, letting go of you and breathing heavily.

Smiling, you licked your lips and pecked his cheek before leaning up and placing your hands on his tiny waist.

Circling your thumbs on the soft flesh, you picked up the pace. Making him gasp, putting his hands up to pull at his own hair and arching his back. He bit his lips the faster you went, abuse on his prostate made his vision hazy and almost let him choke on his drool.

The heat in your abdomen built, your own gasping mixing with the gasps from the male under you.

“Alright love, quickly.. fuck.. in or out..”

“In. Don’t you dare pull out.”

He glared up at you, as if you’d asked him the dumbest question ever before going back to being a gasping moaning mess.

Nodding, you kept up the pace and the burning became a wave of warmth as you came inside him.

Jiyan twitched under you, his last orgasm riding out with your load inside him.

He laid there, trying to catch his breathe. You smiled softly at him, giving him another kiss and peppering soft pecks around his face.

“Good boy, you did a great job. I’m proud of you.”

He only groaned, making you laugh lightly.

[shuenkio]

Dirty Boy | ▹ Lhs

▹Paring: Heeseung X male!reader. ▹Genre: soft smau.

▹Cw: mentioned masturbate, cum, dirty, cursing, public masterbation.

▹Synopsis: Your buddy wants your help.

▹Non proof read|▹wc:1.6k

▹Eng is not my 1st lang | do not copy.

▹Aln: I'm still improve how to write a good SMAU one, so I'm making a way to make it please don't expect too much :').

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

Been a buddy for life ever since you were young together with Evan Lee or Ethan Lee. That's what everyone called him.

Whenever there's a party or hangout, even if it's not related to you, he'll still ask you to invite him just so you can socialize and accompany him. He just loves to awkward you with the outside environment.

Later on, coincidentally, both of you and Hee got into the same college with the same major and the same dorm. And you were glad that you didn't have to live with the new face because you were an anti-social human. To your surprise, the Heeseung you've seen every day was the half-surface of him from his inside.

He was actually the most unpredictable man you've ever met after living with him for a few months. You thought man would always be man, even though you are also a man, but politely dirty. For Evan? He was two times worse.

There was a time you saw his stained underwear splattered all over the floor, his sweaty shirts, and his unwashed pants, just like teenage kids. No matter how hard you've tried to scold him or tell him those, he was free to care about your words. Laterally, water spilled on a duck's head.

Not long after, this is getting worse. You have known that Heeseung was a gamer addicted and would play in front of the computer screen for hours; however, instead of playing games, sometimes you hear a moaning, whimpering noise echoing through the ceiling from his room to the kitchen. And it's none other than his alone time, masturbate.

It's not like you were disgusting, yet it's just bad timing whenever he faps his meat. Your mom was face-timing you while you were cutting the vegetable for lunch, but the huffing sound was so loud that your mom got suspicious of you, and in return, you had to end the call in a sec. That's one of the memories you still left traumatized.

For now, you've made up your mind to have a conversation with the growth-ass man, Heeseung. Once you finished your work, you quickly dragged your feet to his room before knocking, in case you interrupted him again.

You enter the room, and while he was sitting back facing you, both of his hands were placed on the mouse and keyboard, as his ear was covered with a headphone, blocking all the noise.

"Hey EVAN!" You yelled, holding your waist as your blood boiled in response to the silent response.

"..." Unable to wait any longer, you take off his headphones suddenly before you unplug the computer. The moment you did that, you've now gotten all the attention from him.

"M/N, what's your problem? I'm in the middle of the  game." He fired out as he spoke, almost shouting at your unexpected move.

"We need to talk!" You reply back with the seriousness in your expression, which calms the nerves in the Heeseung vein in a blink of an eye.

"Talk about what?" Exhale the deep breath out as he lay on his palm on the table, still holding on to his non-care attitude.

"I need you to change your childish behavior, Evan! Not only did you pressure me, but the whole damn dorm started to smell like you." You spoke, and as a result, you got an eyebrow raise from him.

"I live here."

"THAT'S NOT THE POINTS—ok, let's say this, you're dirty!" You implied honesty; speak out what's on your mind. Straightforward to the point this time, as he was a little taken aback by your comment.

"You never wash your laundry, your clothes, especially your damn underwear? Are you even an adult at this point? I'm telling this because it's for your own  good." You scolding, all the bad things he had done that drove you nuts, but they're still in the basket. Heeseung seemed to be quite after these; his gaze didn't even focus on you, lingering on the shorts you were wearing, probably daydreaming about something you clearly couldn't imagine.

"HEY HEY! Are you even listening? At least be guilty for your action."

"I don't know, but that short look better be off; it's distracting."

"You pervert, STFU, what got into you, ugh?"

////

A week had passed, and Heeseung started to change because of your nagging all day. And it turned out pretty well. He then began to wash his clothes, do the housework, clean his room, and do many other things. It's brought a smile to your face to see him being a good friend or human for once, maybe.

Today at the weekend, since your groceries have been out ever since yesterday, you suggest Heeseung come with you for shopping, which he can't decline.

All he did was carry the groceries and nothing else, while you were having a hard time choosing the food that both of you needed and wanted to eat for a week.

Finally, you're done with the shopping. After you finish paying for the items, you feel like you want to go to the restroom.

You then told Heeseung about it; if it's happened, he'd be looking for you or waiting for you because of you. Nevertheless, he also wanted to go to the restroom, which made it awkward.

In the bathroom.

Making your way into the room, you couldn't wait to unleash your pee, which you've been urging to release into the urinal toilet. You believe that Heeseung will give you privacy; he will pee across from you, although the next thing you know, he is seen beside you.

"Oh, for god's sake, do you not feel ashamed or embarrassed? I'm peeing!!" You claim, almost irritated by his unpredictable action, did he want to show his dick or what?

"We're friends; there's nothing to hide anyway, even this!" Heeseung responded by stepping back a little so you can see his full aroused cock, spring-free from his underwear. And it was... Dripping—

"What in the actual hell?" You are speechless at what you encounter. Is that your friend's cock? In front of you? In a public space like this? No fucking way.

The size of his full, hard cock painted a messy red blush stain on your face. His balls were round and stretched with those little hairs. Meanwhile, his mid-size cock was uncut, and the ash pink head is pecking from the foreskins, and it's twitching from your point of view. Kinda smells (all men smell from their hormones).

Fail to make any word out of your mouth, you look around before looking at his face in disbelief. Why did he blush? His eyes were half-lidded. As if he were holding on to something.

"Are you out of your mind, Evan?" We're in public!! Not at  home." You quickly look away, pin both of your visions to the entrance, having an anxiety that someone could come in, misunderstood to this.

"M/n... Could you spare me a hand? I can't go out like  this." He covered his eyes; his tone was almost desperate because he couldn't take any longer to pleasuring.

"Why can't you?"

"I would, but I want your hand instead," he finally stated, thirsting for your touch because touching yourself is not enough. You need somebody's help; it's better.

I couldn't even leave any comments. Someone is coming in as you harshly push him into the bathroom stall, with you inside too. With the rush decision, now you're stuck with him, with his distracted cock, jiggling non-stop.

People come in to do their business in the bathroom. It's normal for people to pee and poop, isn't it? On the other hand, the heat started to drive Heeseung nuts since his cocks often rub on your clothes because of how close you are to him, fearing someone might see you two inside.

The idiot heeseung he is, and the pleasure he's holding in can't be left inactive. Heeseung is then making an unacceptable dare for you in a situation like this.

If you don't jerk him off, he will moan loudly in this tight stall. You were furious at his dare as you glared at him with your piercing eye that was about to fall out.

Though it's the only choice right now, to prevent him from doing the nasty shit that could lead to misunderstood.

Biting the lower lip, you hurry take out Heeseung's cock out of his underwear, fully free to get more access.

Without further ado, you began your ritual. Taking a hold of his testicles before you spit your Silva on them, you started giving him the hand job without any warning.

The most sensitive part of man was the tip. As an experienced person, you focus on around the tip of his so he would cum faster.

The speed of your hand makes Heeseung thrust out his hip while his hands are holding on to the walls. The pleasuring almost left gasps out of his throat. His toes are curling together at the sensation of your touch.

"Right there, m/n, give it... *huff* your all, Ngh." Fap fap, the wet sounds are also making you slightly horny. Sliding up and down nonstop, holding his cock just like your own, You then increase the speed and continue to jerk him until the end.

To the point where he bit his sleeve because of the overwhelming sensation he is experiencing right now.

"Too good, I'm cumming!! Holy fuck" as you masturbate till he feels the orgasm in his cock is building, at the same time with the magic hand of yours, making him squeak. Shooting out the sticky, wet cum, stained all over your palm.

"Er—sss, I feel numb. You're too good. M/N, I'm ascending." He said it with his shallow breath, still catching on to it as he laid his head against the wall behind, closing his eyes, drained out already.

"This is unbelievable, damn it." You stared at the orgasms, that dripping on your hand as you disgusted at them. But at least he doesn't have any crazy ideas this time. This was enough to traumatize you once again.

And that's your friend, Heeseung.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

🗣️ Please mind my English! ><

🗣️Crd to all pics&dividers

[runningfrom2am]

requiem // part one

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: hi again! obligatory note to say sorry i didn't update a couple days ago i meant to but i got hit by a car and then i was working lmao (i'm fine but the ao3 curse did in fact find me)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

"Mister Snow." Coriolanus's head jerks up at his name from where it was resting against his palm, nearly having fallen asleep by the side of your bed. You were out cold and had been for close to a week now, but part of him hoped he would be there when you eventually stirred.

"We have to ask you to leave now, but you can come back tomorrow after seven," The nurse tells him, a sympathetic smile on her face. This was the sixth night in a row they'd had this exact conversation.

"Of course, thank you," he grumbles as he stands up, rubbing his eyes.

"How is your mentorship going?" she asks, just for the sake of making conversation. "It is very exciting. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks..." he hums, hand sliding over his jaw in slight discomfort. He had little to no interest in his tribute. It was clear Lucy Gray had no shot at winning, and he had an even smaller shot at the Plinth Prize thanks to her. Now, he could hardly even stomach looking at her. "The Songbird," as everyone called her. 

In reality, his best friend had been forgotten the moment Lucy Gray Baird set foot on that stage in District Twelve and began to sing, and he loathed her for it. The way that all eyes turned to you next to him during the reaping as soon as his tribute's lips parted and began to sing made his stomach turn even now.

Coriolanus's eyes parted from the screen to look over at you, a small teasing smile on his face as he reached out to nudge you with his elbow when instead he was met with an expression of horror on your face. He could see the way your neck tensed as you swallowed hard, and he looks around to see almost everyone else's eyes on you as well for just a moment at a time, stealing glances in your direction.

Your jaw tightens while you grind your teeth together. She was good. But you were better at masking your discomfort with the whole situation, looking down to smooth out your black skirt where it lay across your lap and ignoring all the eyes that had fallen on you.

"It's going well," he lies in response.

"I'm glad to hear that. She's got a real talent, that girl," She smiles, and Coriolanus knows she's not trying to take a jab at the girl lying unconscious a few feet away, but he couldn't see it any other way. "Well, best of luck to her. And you, of course."

"Thanks. Have a good night," Coriolanus replies almost under his breath, taking a final glance at you fast asleep in the cold-looking hospital bed, neck bandaged down to your bruised shoulders before he leaves for the night.

It's sunny out when Coriolanus makes his daily trek to the Capitol Zoo to feed his tribute, and his academy uniform feels heavier on his shoulders than what he's used to.

His tribute smiles as she gets up and brushes off the front of her rainbow dress, making her way over to the bars to greet him. "Good afternoon, Coriolanus. Doin' well today?" she asks as he gets closer, already digging into his bag for the food he brought her.

"Fine," he mumbles in response, holding the folded napkin out to her that contains a cookie he took from the academy lunchroom.

"Thank you," Lucy Gray says as she takes it, unfolding the small cloth from around it and taking a bite. Chewing on it, she looks up at him again, taking note of the bags forming under his blue eyes. "I'm sorry about your friend."

His eyes flick from the cookie she was eating back up to hers, a slight glare behind them as he swallows stiffly. "Yes, well, she's alive," he tells her, looking back down as she breaks the cookie in half and holds it out to him.

"No, thank you," he shakes his head, pushing her hand away with his own.

"You should eat. You look like you need the energy," she says sympathetically.

He sighs because she's probably right. He takes it from her hand carefully, already breaking off a piece. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Lucy Gray knew their little routine by now. It was obvious when he brought her food the first time that he was going hungry. She had seen the signs enough back home to recognize it even here, hidden within what was supposed to be the endless opulence of the Capitol.

"Would you like to talk about it?" she asks as he begins to chew the tiny piece of the cookie, mindful of chewing and swallowing it slowly. He looks up at her again, confusion in his eyes. "Your friend, I mean." she explains.

"No." he answers quickly, shaking his head.

His semi-hostile response only leads Lucy Gray to believe that this girl she had seen get attacked meant something to him. Though, she already knew that when they walked into the zoo arm-in-arm like birds of a feather minutes before the girl was attacked, and her mentor had to be dragged away from her by Peacekeepers when a medical team finally arrived.

"Will you tell me about her?"

"About Y/N?" he asks, eyes softening just a bit.

Lucy Gray nods in confirmation, a small smile on her lips as she urges him on.

"She, uh..." Suddenly he doesn't know where to start with you. Your parents' names are what would traditionally come first in the Capitol, but he knew that would mean nothing to the girl in front of him. That you were his best and only real friend? That you were a singer, too, just like her, but you would likely never sing another note again? "She's a singer in training for the Opera House on Presidential Way. She is... she was very good."

Lucy Gray's eyes light up as he speaks. "She was a singer?"

Coriolanus nods, putting his focus back into eating.

"She must have been amazing," Lucy Gray says, trying to make comforting conversation.

"She is," he corrects her quickly, disguising it as agreement, despite having been the one to refer to your singing abilities in the past tense.

"Of course." She agrees, a sympathetic smile on her face. "I didn't mean..."

"They are making some changes to the Games." He cuts her off, wanting to move on to avoid having to think about the current state of his best friend. It makes his heart sink and the accompanying dread causes that awful burning sensation behind his eyes that makes him want to cry. "So... you need to sing again. Get people to like you. Then I'll be able to send you things in the arena to keep you alive."

Lucy Gray seems hesitant, letting out a huff with the slight shake of her head, looking around before locking her eyes back on him. "I don't sing when I'm told. I sing when I have something to say."

Coriolanus is jarred by her statement, tilting his head a bit and clenching his jaw at the notion and her ferocity behind it. He can't help it when the sudden, stark difference between Lucy Gray and his best friend hits him like a thunderstorm coming in quick on a sunny day. 

She sang when she had something to say, you sang because you had to. This fact would keep him up at night for weeks.

The games had come and gone, and there had been no winner this year. Your tribute was shot dead the day she attacked you, and Dr. Gaul saw it as some kind of justice that after your assault, the bombing, and the deaths of your other classmates, the death of all those District kids would keep their home districts from rebelling. From seeing the Capitol as vulnerable, or something like that. You really couldn't care less. At least Felix and the twins were lucky enough to have succumbed to their injuries.

The hospital was cold and dark at almost all hours of the day. You couldn't do a thing besides sit there and wait. For what, you weren't even sure.

"She's not having a good day today," The nurse informs Coryo as he checks in to visit you. He comes by every day, sometimes multiple times a day to see you, and you have your good and bad days. He's well used to that by now.

"Has she eaten?" he asks, and the nurse shakes her head.

"Refused to touch anything we brought her," She sighs, but she's fighting back a smile, which makes him raise an eyebrow at her. Why would she be smiling at that?

"She will be able to go home tomorrow," She smiles, hearing the question he never verbalized. "I thought you might like to tell her."

"Oh... I see," Coryo hums, looking down the hall toward the staircase he would soon take to get to you.

"You don't seem pleased," She states quizzically, her grin fading.

"Why is she going home?" He asks. "She still can't even speak."

The nurse looks down, pursing her lips. "As the doctor mentioned, there's no guarantee that she will ever get her voice back. I'm sorry, truly, but there's nothing more we can do for her here. It's better that she's home with her family recovering somewhere more comfortable."

"Right," He swallows, nodding curtly at her. "Thank you," He replies simply, brushing past the nurse's station to go down to your room. 

He can always hear it before he sees it, the echo of opera music cycling through your favorite records time and time again, filling the quiet hall with something pleasant as soon as he opens the door from the stairwell.

"Y/N," You look up from where you're sitting in the corner, tilting your head at him. Coryo smiles as he walks in, and you wish you were in a better mood, to be a better host; as good of one as you could be when you were in the hospital and couldn't speak a single word to him. "How are you feeling?" He asks, already knowing the answer.

You shake your head, a pout forming on your lips. The flowers people had brought you in your first couple of weeks were wilting, and then they stopped bringing them. Your whole life you had been praised for your voice; since you were six years old, the Capitol had seemingly been buzzing with hope for your future. You would be the most beautiful, accomplished singer Panem had ever seen - no one doubted it, but within weeks you had been completely forgotten. Replaced by the image of the girl who had sung at the reaping and once in an interview. Your room was quite a sad reflection of this, and you spent every minute of every day forced to wallow in it.

"Bad day?" Coryo asks anyway, but you just shrug, looking out the window at your sad view of the city that had abandoned you.

"Well, I've got some good news," He says, which draws your attention. You tilt your head at him, gesturing in a circular motion with your hand for him to go on.

He laughs, putting his bag down on your empty and perfectly made bed. "One second, here. In case you have questions." He pulls the small chalkboard out from the drawer next to your bed, holding it out to you with a piece of white chalk. You scrunch up your nose and wave rapidly for him to put it back. He knew it would bug you, that's why he did it, recalling the day he brought it for you and you almost threw it at him.

"I HATE writing with chalk," You scribbled quickly on a napkin with a pen you stole from his pocket, throwing the napkin at him and crossing your arms.

"What? Why?" Coryo laughed, dropping the crumpled piece of soft paper on the table next to your bed.

You shook your head, pursed your lips, and looked up, trying to find a way to explain the awful sensation without saying it. He watched you patiently as you thought, until you pretended to hold a piece of the white substance in between your thumb and forefinger, dragging it down the air slowly and pretending to gag. You shook your head again in disgust, waving your hand at him.

"Oh, I didn't know you felt so passionately about this," He drags the chalk down over the board, and you cringe, covering your ears. Coryo couldn't help but think that was just about the cutest thing he had ever seen.

That had been one of your good days, even though at the time your scar was still so fresh it was bandaged, and you were littered with bruises down to your ribs. The room was littered with fallen flower petals by now, yes, but also with what must be hundreds of notes you had shown to Coryo to express yourself in the only way you still could.

That memory still makes you smile, even if you do absolutely hate chalkboards. You walk past him and grab your notebook off the same table, picking it and the pen up as dramatically as you possibly can before sitting down on the bed and looking up at him.

"What?" He asks, just to tease you, and you roll your eyes.

'Get on with it. Also, you're not funny, and I hate you,' You write, turning the page to face him so he could read it.

"Oh, do you?" He chuckles, sitting down next to you.

You smack his arm with the book, motioning again that he should just spit it out.

"Okay! Okay, fine," He sighs emphatically, placing his hands on his thighs and looking down at the floor, just for a few moments to drive you more up the wall before turning his gaze to you. "They told me that you're going home tomorrow."

You open your mouth to speak, suddenly forgetting that you can't. You quickly shut your jaw, furrowing your brow and shaking your head. 'Why?' You mouth to him, neglecting the pad of paper in your lap.

He reads your lips, frowning at your lack of excitement. He was hoping you would be looking forward to it, but he knew you wouldn't be. Not really. "They said there isn't anything more they can do for you here, that you need to heal at home."

You stand up abruptly, throwing the paper down on the ground and clutching the pen so tight that Coryo fears it might shatter.

What do they mean "nothing they can do"? They could fix you, they could operate again, they could pump you so full of drugs that you could finally forget the hell that you're living in, that's what they could do. You couldn't even say that - or scream out your frustrations.

You turn back to Coryo, and the hurt look on your face crushes him. You want to speak to him so badly. Your lips fall open, and you try anyway. 'They're going to leave me like this?' You ask, but not a sound comes out. Not even so much as a whisper. Your throat burns regardless.

"I'm sorry," he says honestly, standing up and reaching out for you. You shake your head, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at him. "Come here..." he says softly, already wrapping his arms around you as the tears brimming in your eyes begin to fall. You can't even hug him back, hands clutched to your chest as you shake under his hold.

"If I could take this from you, I would," He mumbles, shaking his head and resting his chin on your head as he rubs your back. "I'm sorry, Y/N/N."

What he wouldn't give to be able to hear your voice again.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[volturiprincess]

Háblame De Ti

:tell me about you:

Demetri Volturi x Fem human reader

Summary: The way he looks at you when you talk A/N: This one was inspired by the song "Hablame de ti" by Banda MS. I connected two and two when I was driving to the beach and this song went on and I was like "Omg this is giving Demetri vibes, write it down Mj (me)". I swear this happens to me to often, ideas for one-shots just randomly come to mind and I quickly pull out "notes" on my phone if I'm not on my computer and later transfer that idea do my doc and write out a whole brainstorm or just start writing right away. Anyways......Enjoy💙 (Ps. I might or might of now of added my other fictional lovers on here🤭)

Word Count: 1k+

(What a lovely man. I love his little smile here🥰)

“Your not going to believe who Kelsey ended up with”

“Tell me”

I crossed my legs to get more comfy. Me and Demetri are in the outskirts of Volterra in a small clearing of grass that we go to when the weather is nice. With it already being  summer, and the sun beating down on us, Demetri’s gorgeous sparkle comes through. Oh how I can stare at him all day long and try to count every individual little diamond that seems to be on his face. To just admire his beauty and not be interrupted by others, to not have to worry about anything but him alone. His state right is laying on his stomach with his head resting on his head, and his feet basically kicked up, swaying side to side. He seems so relaxed and he’s giving me his undivided attention at the same time.

“She ended up with Ren”

“No way”

“Exactly, and poor Kishan was left behind, can you believe how devastated I was how he was just left behind in time. I so wanted to reach into the book and pull him out”

“And what would you do with him if that were possible”

“Well give him his happily ever after of course my man has suffered to much”

“Your man? What am I some side chick now?”

“Demetri you will always be my main, Kishan would be my side I guess”

“No I don't like that, no side chicks or whatever you just have me”

“Fine, so I can't even have Moony or Padfoot either?”

“Nope”

“What about Nanami, please let me at least have him”

“I'll think about it, but tell me more about what happened after they left Kishan”

I continued with my ramble of the book I finished. When I talk about books with him he lets me go off and does not interrupt unless he has a question. Even when I fear I have talked to much or I bored him, I look at him and he’s still looking at me with anticipation for me to continue 

Third Person

A thing that y/n didn't realize about Demetri was how he looks at her. When they are out in their spot at this time of the year, Demetri sees a whole new side of her. He just sits or lays there looking at her like she is the only breathing soul on this earth. If it were possible his pupils would form into little hearts because that is all he sees when he looks at her, hearts. He has the purest of adoration for her; if someone were to watch them for a distance, they would assume Demetri is under a love spell from how he watches her. He's so smitten with her it's almost as if it's too good to be true, it seems too much like a fairytale. And to them it does feel like it, their alone time is their little bubble of paradise. Just them against the world, no vampire or human in sight, even the animals seem to leave them alone. 

Demetri and y/n or y/n or Demetri, bounded for eternity, how it should be according to them. Just them two, even if currently one is immortal and another is mortal, they just click. The minute they meet, life just makes sense for them at that moment. When he moves, she moves, she wanders and he follows her around. Or he will gently guide her back to their initial journey since his lovely mate tends to get distracted with little things.

Oooo what a pretty flower, oh my what an interesting looking tree, how is that possible for it to bend like that? Demetri look a family of little bunnies, can I take them home?

Those are just superficial questions and thoughts she will have when she wanders but Demetri loves every little quirk she carries, even the one where sometimes she hides herself from him when he catches her moving with the wind. 

“You were not supposed to see that”

“Well i'm glad I did because now I can join you, care to share a dance cariño?” 

Demetri’s POV

What a beauty of a human she is. She’s a rare jewel that can never be dared to be duplicated or even have the audacity to be recreated. No one will even come close to being like her because she is one in a million. The way she can talk to me for hours without stopping warms my heart for it being she trusts me enough to say whatever is on her mind. Her voice, the voice of an angel indeed. How can someone like her even exist? I sometimes fear I'm in a dream with her, I just can never fully believe she is my mate. She was made for me, she’s everything I have ever wanted but at the same time something I never knew I needed. If I were to sketch out what I believe my mate would have looked like, it would have looked like her. 

I never pictured myself finding my mate in this lifetime or ever, but when she came into my life, I was enamored of the idea of her. All of the heartache I harbored within the past vanished to be replaced by an overwhelming feeling of devotion and infatuation dedicated just for her. 

I deeply value my alone time with her, it's our time to be with each other without any interruption or worry of some duty I need to do. Even if my mind is racing with a million thoughts revolving around her, I catch every single word that comes from her pretty little mouth. At last I think I might have gotten a bit too deep in my love for her because she is staring at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“I said why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Well your looking at me all weird”

“Can’t a vampire stare at his mate with love?”

And my oh my, that lovely blush of her’s starts to bloom on her lovely face. It saddens me to think what when the day comes for her to become like me, her blush will be no more. I will miss it but it excites me that we will officially have forever. 

Still blushing she responds with a small stutter “W-well you can, n-no judgment, but were you paying attention?”

“Of course my angel, you just said that Ren and Kelsey got married”

She nodded and proceeded to keep talking about the book. So adorable when she doubts me, I am always listening to her. There are times where she sleep talks sometimes and I manage to her say that she loves me so much. It gave me a warm feeling within to think she loves me as much as I love her, well actually I think I love her more. But why tell her that? When I have to be away from her due to missions or training, I am aching to be in her arms as soon as I leave. To be in her warm embrace, to have my face filled with her lips giving me multiple small kisses, to seeing her smile when she sees me. 

If only she knew the deep effect she has on me, I only mentioned slight things but soon enough she will know. If I were to tell her my deeper feelings, I don't think her mind would be able to comprehend it, my love for her is intense, so strong and raw. Sometimes it does scare me in how much I love her. 

Y/N POV

“I'm still mad about it, you know? Like you have no idea how much I cried”

“I know cariño, I was there wiping your tears away all night”

“That you were, I'm so lucky to have you my love”

“I know i'm just the best you know”

I slap his shoulder playfully at his exaggerated cockiness. He can be such a goofball sometimes and I love that about him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

Cariño: Dear

[too-deviant]

Hii would you take a request for Luke x Athena!reader? Like an au where Luke isn't the one who turned and in the battle of Manhattan it's them and percabeth leading the camp in battle

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Athena!Reader

Summary: Percy thinks there's just about nothing that can pull you and Luke apart.

Notes: sorrry this took so long i had w block for a little bit. hope this is okay!!! also not proofread so lmk if there's any grammar mistakes lolss

Since he found out he was a demigod, Percy Jackson only ever had three things remain consistent in his fucked up life:

(1) His imminent doom. 

(2) His mom’s undying support. 

(3) Luke Castellan’s wandering eyes. 

Even now, as he fights for his life against Kronos’ Army ten feet away from the Empire State Building. Whenever he gets the chance, Percy scans his eyes over their side of the fight. Making sure everyone is okay, aiding where he was needed. And every time, without fail, Luke was doing the same thing — only his eyes zeroed in one one warrior in particular. You. 

It was a tether, Percy realised, but not just for Luke. Whenever things got particularly tough — whenever he found himself thinking about how much had changed and how much would change after this, he would hear you laugh and he would know you were laughing at Luke. Or he would glance over at where you sat, the son of Hermes never too far away. It would remind him of his first day at camp, when he was young and unaware, being given the immersive tour by the kind older counsellor he’d met ten minutes earlier, and watching as he looked back at the same group of campers whenever he got the chance. Until Percy, curious as he is, finally asked the question. 

“Who is that?”

Luke had grinned like he was waiting for someone to segue the conversation to you, and began his spiel about the best demigod the Athena Cabin had ever seen. An exaggeration, Percy knew, since he’d seen the other Athena kids and their skill. And he’d been unnerved enough by Annabeth’s staring the whole day to know they each had their own stories. 

But Luke didn’t seem to be thinking about the other Athena kids at that moment. His brown eyes shone as he watched you, a smile so soft it made Percy screw his face up a bit. Just say she’s your girlfriend, man, no need to start reciting poetry. 

It was a classic case of the teenage honeymoon phase. Even though he was twelve, Percy knew the deal. He’d watched Glee. 

But where the honeymoon phase is supposed to end, yours remained. Apparently it wasn’t a phase at all, and you guys really were just sickly in love. It was horrible, but it also helped Percy stay sane as the world shifted around him with every passing moment. 

Like earlier, when they were laying out the plans just after Kronos had put Manhattan to sleep. It seemed like aeons ago he was standing in the quiet, zoned in on nothing in particular, flinching at the hand that brushed his shoulder. It was you, Luke not far behind like he always had been.

“You okay?”

He shrugged, “I dunno.”

Luke snorted, patting him on his other shoulder, “You’ll be good, man.”

“Really?” He scoffed a laugh, “I’m fifteen, leading an army isn't my job. If anything, you guys should be the ones in charge.”

“Callin’ us old, sucker?” You joked, pinching him. He hissed and you laughed. Almost automatically, Percy’s eyes went to Luke, who was looking at you with a soft smile like he always did whenever you laughed. He’d once told Percy, last year before he set out to go into the Labyrinth, that he could recognise your laugh from a mile away. 

“I don’t know what we're gonna do.” He frowned.

“Good thing our girls are Athena kids then, huh?” Luke quipped. Percy’s face dusted red at the insinuation, but the embarrassment was enough to knock him out of his stupor. Luke patted him again, “We’ve got this. And if we don’t, at least we’re going out with a bang, right?”

“Right.” Annabeth sidled up to them. “So are you guys done chatting or are we gonna wait a little longer, give Kronos a head start?”

“Nah, we’re going.” Luke straightened himself, looking each of them in the eye, “Ready?”

They shared some smiles, You and Annabeth did some weird sibling handshake that was way too complicated, then Luke was putting his hand in the centre of them all and waiting for three other hands to join it. “For Olympus?”

“No.” Percy interrupted. He thought about the kids that were ready to fight with their lives, the ones who had already given theirs. He thought about Annabeth and her plans for the future. He thought about you and Luke, and how extravagant your wedding could be with Annabeth as the planner and the Stolls as the ring bearers (an actual conversation he’d overheard the two of you having once), and he thought about how they all deserved peace after the hellish three years they had gone through ever since Zeus’ lightning bolt was stolen, and grinned, “For the demigods.”

“For the demigods!”

He thinks back on that conversation during the meeting with the Olympians after the battle was done. When Athena is thanking you, when Hermes steps up and thanks you too. And when Zeus says, “All rise for Percy Jackson, Hero of Olympus.” He hesitates, holds out a hand and corrects him. The next time the god speaks, it is with your name, Luke’s and Annabeth’s. Percy would have asked him to name everyone who had helped out, but they’d be there all day. 

When all was said and done, he turned around and said, “They coulda told us all that in an email.”

They laughed. You laughed, and when Percy glanced over, Luke was smiling at you.

[sluttyminghao]

everlasting love | k.mg

♡ pairing: kim mingyu x afab!reader ♡ w.c.: 3k ♡ genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff ♡ this fic contains: domestic!mingyu, shy to confident reader, mingyu takes you to a dog park, friends to lovers trope, mingyu gets horny over a thong, unprotected sex (reader is stated to be on the pill), big dick mingyu, mentions of reader passing out after orgasm, mingyu sucks on readers tits ♡ synopsis: mingyu wants you to know how much he loves you after dropping hints for years, and takes you on a date you'll never forget, and maybe you'll also figure out you love him too. ♡ a/n: part of the svthub spring series! you can find all the other wonderful fics here, take a read and stroll through the garden!

“Mingyu, why are we at a dog park? Neither of us even has a dog.”

“Because we can pat the dogs that are here, silly! It’s a great way to kill an hour or so.”

You chuckle and watch as he runs in front of you, before squatting down in front of the first dog approaching him. It’s small in stature and black in colour and looks like a toy poodle at first glance. As you walk closer and bend down beside him so the dog can sniff your hand, you can hear him talking to the dog in a cutesy voice that has you cringing externally, but melting internally.

For as long as you had been friends with Mingyu, which if you remembered correctly was about 7 years, there had always been a small part of you that had fallen head over heels for the tall, tanned man. You kept it buried down inside you as deep as it would go, and promised yourself it would never, ever come up.

You just hoped that it wasn't obvious in any aspect, because you were sure you’d shrivel into a ball if he knew your true feelings.

“Over here! There’s a whole bunch of dogs wanting their bellies rubbed!” Mingyu’s voice floats into your consciousness and you quickly stand and jog over to where he was now laying stomach down on the grass, rubbing the belly of a dalmatian. You wanted to scold him for rolling in the grass in a white shirt and light-coloured jeans, but he looked so cute that you didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“Quick! Take my picture!”

Mingyu’s excited voice makes your heart skip a beat as you pull out your phone and snap a couple of pictures, which you were sure he’d upload to his Instagram later. Mentally, you were kicking yourself for having your feelings for him bubble up like a boiling pot on a stove. It’s not like he would like you back anyway, he could have literally anyone he wanted.

But little did you know, the only person he wanted was you.

From the moment he laid eyes on you all those years ago, he couldn't picture his life without you in it. Every night, he dreamed about every inch of you, how the perfume you use makes his heart race and how he wants nothing more than to push you against a mattress and make love to you.

The only thing stopping him from confessing was that he didn't want to ruin your friendship. It was the best thing in his life and if you rejected him, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

“Oh, look at how pretty these flowers are!”

Mingyu is drawn immediately to your voice, his head snapping up and abandoning his spot on the ground with the dogs to find you crouched over some shrubs a few feet away. He’s not sure what kind of flowers they are, but you seem pretty invested in them.

“What are they?”

“They’re called Zinnias, I love how bright they are… they’re my favourite flowers.” You ramble, letting your hand brush over the petals of a bright yellow zinnia gently. Mingyu watches as you observe each flower, take some photos and a couple of selfies before finally standing up and looping your arm through his.

He feels his heart jump into his throat at the sudden closeness of you, but brushes it off as you lead him to walk along the path full of different flowers and shrubs. Mingyu observes you strolling and watches as you stop to pick some daisies, peonies, and other various types of flowers. He thinks it’s so cute.

“We should make flower crowns!” You squeal with excitement as you place the various flowers into a container and place them in your backpack, slinging it back over your shoulder and sliding your hand into Mingyu’s again. You give him a reassuring squeeze and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven, but is quickly dragged back to Earth when he almost runs into his car.

How did you guys get back to his car so quickly? He swears you were still in the park 30 seconds ago.

You giggle at his clumsiness and climb into the passenger seat, eagerly waiting for him to hop into the driver's side. He follows suit and turns the key in the ignition with ease, before driving slowly out of the car park and out onto the busy streets.

“So, do you want to go out for dinner or just do something at home?” Mingyu asks, diverting his attention to you as he slows the car to a stop at a red light. You hum and rest your head in the palm of your hand mulling over the options. Mingyu was a very good cook, so it wasn't a hard decision to make, but you still wanted him to think it was a hard decision.

“Can we just go back to your place and have some ramen? I’ve been craving it for literal weeks and no one cooks it like you do.” The grin on your face makes him melt inside as he nods and makes a U-turn to head to his apartment, hoping he’s got all the ingredients to make you the best ramen ever.

As soon as he turns into his driveway, you’re already taking off your seatbelt and skipping inside, either to change into his clothes or start getting ingredients ready for the ramen. He’s kind of hoping it’s the former, but he’d be happy with either scenario considering how domestic they both were.

He walks inside and closes the door with a soft thud, placing his keys on the hook and toeing his shoes off onto the doormat. As he walks further into his apartment, he notices you’ve already turned the heater on, the tv is set up with Netflix, and your pants are on the floor. He grins and picks them up off the floor, placing them over the back of the couch before attempting to find where you had gone to.

When he walks into the kitchen, he feels as if his jaw might fall off.

You’re standing in the middle of the kitchen, grabbing all the ingredients you would both need. His eyes can't help but gaze over your body, widening when he notices you’re not wearing any pants at all. He thought that maybe you had changed into a pair of his sweats, but no, you’re standing there in only your pink thong and jumper.

He feels his cock twitch.

“Uhh…” His voice makes you stop and turn to face him, grinning from ear to ear. You take quick steps over to him and pull him by his forearm to come into the kitchen and help prepare the ramen. You knew what you were doing, teasing him by exposing basically everything from the waist down, but you couldn’t hide your feelings for him much longer, especially after today.

“Come on, let’s make some ramen!” Your voice grows whiny and he feels his cock twitch again, wondering how you would sound with his cock sheathed deeply inside you. He shakes his head and grabs one of the ramen packets, emptying it into the pot of water and turning the stove on.

You move to sit on the countertop, legs slightly spread so he can see the small wet spot that's begun to form on your thong. He doesn't pay much attention at first, focusing on placing all the ingredients in the pot and then going to grab the salt and pepper from the cupboard.

As he turns around from the cupboard, he almost drops the salt and pepper shakers at the sight of you; legs spread and jumper riding up your midriff, exposing a small sliver of your abdomen. He swallows harshly at the sight of the damp spot on your underwear and has to place the shakers on the counter before turning to properly face you.

“I… uh…you look really good right now,” his stutters have your confidence growing, and as a boost of confidence shoots through you, you feel the need to remove your jumper, exposing your matching lacy bra.

“I think you would look pretty good too if you removed your shirt and pants, we could match.” A giggle escapes your throat as you see the flush cover his cheeks and ears, hands quickly going to remove his shirt and tossing it to the side. Without a second to waste, he’s also removing his pants and leaving him in his boxers with a half-hard erection.

You lick your lips and spread your legs further, inviting him to come stand between them. He obliges and lets his hands hang loosely over your hips, his lips brushing yours only slightly enough to have goosebumps covering your skin. Everything feels so close, yet so far. What happens now?

“I love you, Mingyu.”

The words have his eyes widening, and even though your words are sentimental, you feel his cock twitch against your thigh. His eyes dart to where the ramen is slowly cooking away on the stove, knowing he doesn't have very long before the noodles will be ready.

“I love you too.”

He presses his lips delicately to yours and feels your arms sling over his shoulders. You can feel his rapid heartbeat against your chest, and it makes you feel so good knowing that you’ve made him feel this way. Every single touch he gives you, every slight graze along your skin, has it burning a trail that doesn't leave your mind.

You can feel yourself getting soaked by the second, Mingyu’s magic lips working deftly against your own and his tongue licking along the seams of your mouth. You can tell he’s holding himself back, and you need to let him know that it’s okay to let go.

“M-Mingyu-” your voice comes out breathily and has him groaning into your mouth before he’s reluctantly pulling away. At this point, he has a raging hard on and the wet spot on your panties has doubled. He stares at you, pupils black with lust and a small smirk on his lips, his fabric-covered cock pressing against your panty-clad cunt, only soaking you more.

“The noodles, Gyu, we need to move them off the stove,” you giggle, one of his hands reluctantly pulling away from your supple skin to fiddle with the nobs before eventually turning off the stove. Without a word coming from him, he turns back to face you and easily picks you up off the countertop, swiftly moving you to the couch you had set up earlier.

“I need to fuck you, but I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry about it.”

His eyes gleam with want and he feverishly presses his lips back to yours again, his hands moving to your back to fiddle with the clips of your bra. He removes it within a few moments with relative ease, sliding the straps off your shoulders and exposing your nipples to the cool air. 

He licks his lips at the sight of them pebbling up and immediately ducks his head down to wrap his lips around one of them, one of his hands teasing the other. His tongue feels rough against your skin and only drives you crazy. Your hands are in his dark locks, tugging against them as if your life depends on it.

“So fucking beautiful, can't believe I waited this long to confess and see this,” Mingyu mumbles against your skin, feeling his cock strain impossibly harder against the fabric of his boxers. He knows he probably has a pre cum stain on the front, but he could not give a shit with how good you look and feel.

With his mouth still wrapped around your tit, he reaches a free hand down to mindlessly rub your clit through your thong. Your grip on his hair tightens as he circles the bundle of nerves quickly, and your stomach begins to bundle up in pleasure.

“Mingyu…I ne-need you to fuck me.”

You don't have to ask him twice. Before you can say another word, he’s pulling off your nipple and practically ripping your panties in half. As you open your mouth to complain about your favourite thong being ruined, he shimmies his boxers down and exposes his girthy cock to you.

Your jaw drops open at the sight of him. You knew he had to be big, given his tall stature, but he was bigger than you had imagined. His girth was also much larger than you had been used to in the past, and while it slightly scared you, you also couldn't help but be extremely turned on at the same time.

“Have you got lube?” He asks, and you point to a small cupboard in your room where you kept all sorts of goodies like lube and your toys. He chuckles as he paws through the cupboard, and you roll your eyes, knowing he’s still a child at heart even though he’s about 30 seconds away from sheathing himself inside of you.

Moments later he comes back with a black lube bottle and pours a small amount onto his palm, before chucking the bottle next to you on the couch and pumping himself slowly with the lube, a low groan bubbling from his chest. You feel a new wave of arousal flood your body at the sight of him. How had you not jumped his bones years ago?

“Are you ready?” He asks, adjusting his body so that he’s hovering over you, while your legs are wrapped around his waist. You nod and let your lips press to his hungrily again as he begins to slide the fat head of his cock into your entrance. You whine at the sting and feel tears well up in your eyes. 

Even though he’s hardly pushed half of his cock into you, you can already tell he’s a very attentive lover. He kisses away your tears as he thrusts his hips further into you, holding you as close as he physically can while he sheaths the rest of his girthy cock inside you. Once he’s bottomed out, you both let out a sigh of relief and he peppers your face with kisses, praises flowing from his lips with every kiss.

After a few moments, you squeeze around his cock and he groans, before beginning to move slowly. He can feel your walls pulsating around him, and he’s certain he won’t last long if you keep it up. He plants his arms on each side of your head and starts thrusting a little faster, cock twitching when your boobs begin to bounce a little with each push inside of you.

“F-fuck…god, mingyu!” Your voice is like heaven to his ears as your mind turns to mush, any coherent thoughts you had flying out the window with how well he’s fucking you. Your moans and whimpers are sending him over the edge, and as his orgasm begins to peak, his hips start an extreme pace, groans and whimpers filling the room and your sweat colliding with each other. 

Your own orgasm isn't far behind Mingyu’s, and you feel yourself toppling over the edge with a loud cry when he lets the rough pad of his thumb bump roughly against your clit, rubbing harshly until your thighs clench around his hips and your back arches off the couch while stars dance across your vision.

It takes a while for you to come down from your high, and you don’t even realize that Mingyu has already gotten up and started cleaning you up with some tissues and wipes. You have a stupid smile on your face as you look down to see Mingyu sliding a pair of his sweats up your thighs, which he mirrors when he realizes you’ve come back to earth.

“Hi, darling, are you feeling okay?” The pet name has your cheeks burning but you nod regardless, reaching a hand out to comb through his hair softly. He leans into your touch, sighing softly at the contact, before he’s standing up and grabbing a shirt and placing it over your head, moving your arms to get them into the arm holes.

“So, I figured what we could do tonight is eat ramen, watch shitty television series and make flower crowns with those zinnias and other flowers you picked earlier, how does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect, Mingyu.”

“And you know, I actually did a bit of research on the zinnia flowers, and they actually have an interesting meaning.”

You quirk your brow, not even knowing that zinnias, let alone flowers, had meanings behind them. You urge him to go on, and he quickly pulls out his phone to show you what he had found through his research. You find yourself tearing up at the meaning behind them and bury your head in his shoulder.

“The meaning I like the most is that it stands for everlasting love and affection, but also for endurance and daily remembrance. So, from now on and every year on this day, I am going to bring you a bouquet of zinnias to remind you of my everlasting love for you.”

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Thirty

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale Chapter 30

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5][Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten]  [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve]  [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four][Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] Part Thirty [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You blink at the woman for a few long seconds, trying to comprehend her words. “Excuse me? Did you just say Lord Dale has called off the wedding? Our wedding?”

“I…” The maid is at a loss for words in the face of your incredulity. She swallows. “Yes, my lady.”

There’s a rushing sound in your ears, like wind roaring. You stay perfectly still, your face blank as you try to think. That is not possible. It’s not. How could he do something like that? Why would he? You’d dealt with so many surprises, jumped over every obstacle, and handled every challenge. Why instead did you feel as though you had survived a trip at sea only to find your ship crashing into the pier while within sight of home? You feel numb.

Perhaps you are making some sort of expression because the woman grows paler. “I’m sure it is simply pre-wedding jitters, my lady,” she hurries to reassure you. “Lord Archibald will have him seeing sense before you can blink.”

“Best to continue getting you ready,” Ms Dearden says as she lays out your corded underskirts. You appreciate her practiced dismissal even if you fear there’s more at play here than she’s aware of. “Young men these days always get cold feet. He’ll be over it soon enough.”

“Yes, of course.” Your own voice seems distant to your ears, but your words are enough for Callalily’s maid to resume work on your hair. At some point she finishes and you’re helped into your underskirts. Your mind stays blank as you try to conceive of reasons for him to do such a thing beyond tiring of you and this whole facade. Distant imaginings of what your life would be like without the wedding crumble to fog. 

You’ve been so committed and focused on today that the news feels nonsensical more than alarming. How could the wedding not be happening? Did you just speak with your sisters? Has every moment of the last few weeks been in service of it? Are you not now suddenly dressed in your lovely yellow wedding gown? The person in the hand mirror looks as though they are marrying today.

The door flings open and Steward Bilmont hurries in despite the reproach from the women in the room at both his presence and the dramatics of his entrance. 

You only need to look at his face to understand that the situation with Dale has not improved since the first maid broke it to you. He opens his mouth to speak, but something about your countenance, or perhaps your lack of reaction, must inform him that you know something of the situation.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him, my lady,” Bilmont says, wringing his hands. “He’s not been this unreasonable in weeks. Lord Archibald has refused to put a stop to anything, but Lord Dale refuses to see reason. He’s barred the door to his chambers after Lord Archibald wouldn’t accept his words.”

“I see.” With careful fingers you put down the small hand mirror and begin to stand, adjusting your skirts as you do so.

It’s Miss Adir who asks, her voice filled with trepidation, “My lady?” 

“Excuse me,” you say, an undeniable calm spreading through your veins, as you cross the room towards the door. 

“Where are you going?” Steward Bilmont asks as you brush by him.

You realize your decision as you reply, “To speak with my betrothed. Please continue preparations without me.”

The maid who brought the news is the one who speaks up, as your hand closes around the door knob. “My lady, I don’t think—”

“Continue without me,” you cut her off, eyes snapping, because finally some emotion has made itself known to you and it is anger. You’ve worked so hard and been through so much. Dale thinks he can just put an end to it all mere hours before you’re to be wed? No.

“My lady…” Bilmont tries, his hand settling gently on your arm. He’s almost wincing, the look in his eyes resigned. As though he thought everything had been going too well and this was the inevitable shoe that dropped. 

You shake his hand off. “If Lord Dale wishes to call off our wedding,” some of that anger finally bleeds into your voice and you see the surprise in Bilmont’s eyes, “he shall tell me so to my face. Get out of my way.”

He obligingly steps back, hands hanging back at his sides. You don’t bother to observe the others' reactions, opening the door quickly, and letting it shut heavily behind you.

You walk briskly down the hall and towards the Northridge family bedrooms. No one else, servant or noble alike, crosses your path as you head that way. Not until you’re closer. You hear shouting and decide to peek around the corner, wanting to get the scope of the situation you’re walking into. 

“—utter foolishness!” Grandfather is shouting at Dale’s closed door with two guards flanking him. He bangs his fist on the door for good measure. “Do you wish for me to find your Grandmother? I’ve kindly not informed her of your idiocy, but I shall have to if you persist!”

There’s no reply from the other side of the door, not even a sound. Grandfather rattles the door knob to no avail, but doesn’t try anything further with the solid wood door.

He groans in frustration and turns to the guards. “I want to know the instant he leaves this room and if he does not within the hour, I shall have to inform Lady Deidre as promised.”

“Yes, my lord,” the guards chorus looked properly cowed by the threat, even if it isn't aimed at them.

Grandfather turns dramatically enough you see more of the original Dale in him than you thought possible and storms off. The guards take up posts on either side of the door, not baring it, but still present enough that you stay where you are. You’ve no desire to speak to them or to shout at Dale with them nearby.

You frown, unsure why but something doesn’t sit right with you the longer you look down the silent corridor. It seems…empty, or perhaps still, in a manner that makes you feel as if you are not where you should be. Not that your presence is unwanted, but as if you are lost. 

You study the scene more closely and find your eyes drifting towards the bright sunlight streaming through the windows and the faint light coming from under Dale’s bedroom door. After a second, you realize what is wrong with the light and shadow—both are completely still. Before, the maid had said both of them were shouting and you’ve never heard this Dale raise his voice except in a physical fight. If he were truly upset, or at least strongly emotional, there should be some evidence in the shadows, some unnatural movement.

You chance another glance down the corridor, but it looks utterly ordinary. As your gaze sweeps from further down where Grandfather disappears around a corner and then back closer to yourself they snag on the stairway down towards the studies and other meeting rooms. There’s no movement, but the shadows are deep and dark. There are no windows there, that stairway is more utilitarian than for show like the grand staircases in other places throughout the house, so that’s plenty of reason for the darkness, but…

You move as quietly and fluidly as you can towards that staircase, hoping not to attract the guards notice. You don’t want to talk to anyone except Dale. You don’t know what Grandfather would try to say to you given he is clearly trying to keep this news contained. He stopped attempting to prove anything with you since the attack, but you’re still not completely sure of what he thinks of you. Keeping your skirts just high enough off the floor and grateful your house slippers are soft and quiet, you make it to the stairs without the guards' notice.

Your footsteps are nearly silent as you hastily make your way down the flight of stairs. You’ve never given much thought to the amount of light that fills it, but surely it wasn’t this dark in previous mornings. Or is that simply your imagination? Is it just your hope that it means you can find Dale and talk some sense into him?

You peek out at the bottom, looking for anyone in this area of the house who might question one of the couple getting married wandering about alone. No one is present. An eerie silence permeates the corridor and like the staircase, it seems darker than it should be. You step out, eyes on the window that lets light in, but seems outnumbered by shadows.

Dale’s personal study is off a smaller side corridor from this hallway, in its own small tower. You think the upper floor might connect to his bedroom. Then there is the underground room, the real reason you believe the original Dale had requested his current quarters and this study.

There’s an oppressive aura that thickens the air as soon as you turn the corner and it builds the closer you get to his study’s door. You imagine that's partially responsible for the lack of others in this area, which in some ways you’re grateful for. You also manage to draw on its presence as fuel for your anger at such obvious overflow from his nature. The shadows under the door ripple, as if it were night and a lighted candle was guttering in the breeze, unremarkable except for the fact that it's closer to noon.

Cautiously, you reach out for the door knob. Grasping it firmly in your hand, you find that it's not locked as you had feared. The knob turns without effort and the door swings inside to reveal Dale’s study. The flickering shadows solidify as you step inside, eyes searching for Dale. 

You find him quickly enough, a trunk half packed of books next to him. Somehow you don’t think they are being gathered for your wedding trip. He’s by the window, back to you, but you can see tension in every line of his body. All the breath desserts you at the sight of him. All the words you could say dry up in your mouth. The door shuts with an audible click behind you.

“WOULD—” Dale whirls, his frustrated voice cuts off the second his eyes land on you. Abruptly all the anger in his face leaves him. Instead he practically deflates, merely gaping at you. To your surprise, he spins away from you. “What are you doing here?” he asks, voice pitched higher than usual. “I thought we were not to see each other until—” He doesn’t finish his sentence, his shoulders slumping.

You take another few steps into the room and clear your throat. “Yes, well, I’m fairly certain that the betrotheds laying eyes on one the morning of the wedding is of no consequence if there isn’t to be a wedding, hm?” You’re grateful that you’ve rediscovered some of your anger and your frustration to draw on for the strength to weather this conversation.

“I…” Dale can’t seem to think of an adequate response even as he refuses to turn around. 

Your heart constricts in your chest at this confirmation. “So it’s true?” You hadn’t realized how much you were hoping despite all the evidence to the contrary that once you found Dale he’d explain how it was all one big misunderstanding. “You’ve called off our wedding.”

He leans his head against the wall and says nothing.

“Dammit, Dale!” The words jump out of you, louder than you’ve ever spoken to Dale. “Look at me,” you say, your voice breaking. “If you’re going to do this, you’re going to look at me as you do so.”

Slowly, like a man condemned, he turns. Dale swallows, looking profoundly guilty. He murmurs your name, but you refuse to let his soft voice sway you and merely stare straight back at him. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“My reasons are complex, but unchangeable.” His words are rote and his voice wooden. You imagine he said something like this to Grandfather. “I apologize.”

“I don’t understand,” you say as plainly as you can, tired of talking around topics and pretending to be sure when you aren’t. “Complex? How complex can they be that you won’t even enumerate them for me now. Please explain, justify, anything.” Dale just stands there and that anger surges through your blood. You take another step forward, your voice as stern as you can make it, “You owe it to me. Tell me why you are calling off our future.”

“I…” Dale starts before his blue eyes meet yours squarely for the first time since you arrived and he appears to shrink in on himself. He sighs a deep sigh, looking weary. “I could say any number of reasons, but you’re correct. They’re just excuses.” He pulls himself back up and braces himself. “In truth, I simply cannot bear to deceive you any longer.”

“Deceive me? About what? What can you not have told me that would cause our wedding to be canceled?” Panicked, wild scenarios begin to fly through your mind. “Did you marry someone else on your travels and they’ve arrived today? Have you been caught smuggling? Are you a wanted man? Did something happen this morning?”

Dale looks taken aback. He blinks at you. “Wha-? No, no—none of that.”

You feel some exasperation mixing with your frustration as he continues to talk around whatever he’s worried about. You’ve done this dance every day for weeks now and you are so, so tired of it. “Then what? I thought,” you swallow, hating how small your voice has gotten. You clear your throat and try again. “I thought you wanted this—wanted our marriage.”

“I do!” The words burst out of him, surprising you. How can he say so when he’s the one who is ruining it. He continues more quietly, as if the volume was what shocked you, “I do, but you don’t know…” He trails off again, looking away.

“Then tell me,” you plead, taking another step closer. Only another step or two and you could touch him. You could try in vain to keep him from leaving you. 

“I,” he starts, looking at you and away again. “A few weeks ago, there was a… I mean to say that I,” he begins again, obviously having difficulty getting the words out. At least you can see he’s truly making the attempt this time. “Well, not me, but he…” Is this something the original Dale had done that was coming back to ruin everything? That was what you hoped for, in a strange way, because at least it would mean that this Dale still might want you. That whatever prompted this was out of his control. That maybe you could fix whatever it was. “I care about you,” he finally says, his eyes bright, bright blue as they meet yours squarely once more and your breath catches at the genuine sentiment in his voice, “more than I ever thought I would, but I’m not who you think I am.” He takes another deep breath and says bluntly, “Dale of Northridge died weeks ago and then I possessed his body.”

Everything seems to screech to a halt as he stares at you, his eyes pleading with you to understand. Aside from the relief at finally hearing him say it out loud, you don’t. Understand, that is. “Yes…” you say slowly, nodding. “And…?” You’re still waiting for him to complete the thought. To tell you what he’s been building to. Prompting him seemed to help before. “Did you eat someone a few weeks ago and have just now been discovered? Did something you forgot come back to cause problems now?”

“What?” Now Dale looks nearly as confused as you feel. It makes you want to scream in frustration because he’s the one doing this—he has to be the one that knows what is going on. “No, I don’t think you understand.” He talks more slowly, like you’re not hearing his words right. “I’m not human, I’m a demon.” He once again appears to brace himself for your reaction, but you still don’t get it.

Maybe you aren’t hearing him right, but that’s never happened before. Is this some new demonic power or collateral influence? “Yes, I know,” you reply just as deliberately. You enunciate as you ask, “But what did you do that means we can not be wed?”

“You must not be comprehending my words.” He seems to be aware of the issue, getting frustrated himself. He runs his fingers through his long dark hair before he takes on a consoling tone, “I know it is a great shock to find out your fiance is now a demon—”

“What?” You stare at him because is that what he thinks you are getting caught on? You put your hands on your hips and can’t say anything except, “Of course, I know you’re a demon.”

“What?” He leans back, eyes wide. “No.” Dale shakes his head. “How could you know that?”

“Did you think you’ve been doing an exemplary job of hiding it?” The response bursts out of you before you can help it. Because no, this cannot be the conversation you��re having. It can’t be. “How about we begin with how the human Dale was obviously interested in demonology and black market dealing. How excited he was the night before this,” you gesture to Dale’s entire body, “happened. How sick you were after and your memory issues. The fact that you occasionally have more eyes than is proper and your influence on shadows and the claws. You’ve had a tail at times, for stars’ sake!”

“Oh.” Dale’s voice is small and his eyes big as he stares down at you, clearly at a loss for words.

You’ve seemingly found a well of words with which to rebuke him. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to conceal your nature?” You take a step forward, unable to contain your ire and incredulity. He takes one back. “It is not as easy as you must believe to distract people from wriggling shadows and additional eyes and all the strange things you say. Did you really believe I didn’t know? That you were hiding it that well?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Dale sounds more flustered than you’ve ever heard him. “Humans are so oblivious most of the time!”

“Not that oblivious!”

Dale throws his hands up. “Well, no one’s instigated a purge, have they? And Grandfather and Grandmother don’t know, do they?”

Your heart rate is slowly returning to normal and you grudgingly admit, “No. Although Grandfather did think I’d cursed you for a couple weeks.”

“He thought you cursed me?” 

“Yes!” you reply, exasperated that he didn’t even know. “After the hunt, where you did light knows what with the boar, he became convinced that I had cursed you or ensnared you with my ‘potions’. Perhaps while you were still recovering from your supposed illness. As a supposed practitioner of dark ritual or maybe even a summoner, he kept trying to exorcise me, which I had to make sure didn’t accidentally affect you.” When Dale just looks at you, obviously hearing this or putting the pieces together for the first time you can’t help, but feel as if you might be the one who has lost their mind. “You must remember when he practically threw a glass of holy water on us?”

Dale’s brow furrows. “…I did think that was a bit odd.”

You snort. “Yes, I would wager so.” Slowly, you realize you're laughing. You put a hand to your mouth but all it does is muffle the sound. Dale looks newly worried but you can’t stop. “I can’t believe you didn’t know that I knew.” Collapsing into a chair, you cover your face in your hands as you try to regain your composure. 

How is this happening? How had you managed to get so far along without realizing he didn’t know that you knew? Who does that say more about him or you?

After a moment or two, you sense him near you and he asks, “Are you alright?” He sounds so concerned, like he’s still worried the knowledge of what he is, even if it isn’t new to you, might be capable of breaking your mind or whatever he feared would happen.

“Yes, yes,” you finally sit back up, blinking in the light as you attempt to reassure him. “I will be. I simply need a moment.” Dale hesitates from where he’s leaning over you before turning to fetch a cup of water. Haltingly, he holds out to you. “Thank you,” you say as you wipe away the tears that had gathered in the corners of your eyes while laughing.

You sip it carefully as you pull the tattered remains of your composure around yourself once more. Dale watches you take the first couple of sips before he begins to pace in obvious agitation. He’s clearly waiting for you to finish the glass before saying whatever is so clearly on his mind. You’re content to take your time and make him wait after everything he’s put you through, seemingly without even realizing what you were doing.

After a minute, you set the glass down deliberately and Dale comes to a stop in front of you. “I don’t…” he starts to say before changing his mind. “If you know, then why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” you ask. He’s the one constantly doing incomprehensible things.

“Marrying me!” he says, rather emphatically, as though it should be obvious. He runs his hands through his hair. “Going through with this wedding! I don’t understand.” He sounds desperate to understand.

You feel of heat gather high on your cheeks, not having expected to have a light shown on your own actions so directly. “What do you mean? We’re betrothed. Getting married is the expected course of action.”

He gives you a flat look that says you’re not fooling him. “Try once more. I admit there were certain times where I did think you…” He looks at you, a distant look in his eyes as he remembers whatever particular instance. “Where I did think that you knew. Half a dozen times, I was sure you knew,” he continues, eyes intent once more, “but you didn’t do anything about it! You never revealed me or tried to exorcise me or even demand any sort of recompense for keeping it secret. You merely continued on as we had. You were still there, at my side.” He sighs and he looks so tired again. “And so I thought I must be wrong, that you couldn’t know.”

You're not sure what to say in the face of his conviction that you knowing what he is and you continuing to associate with him were so unlikely he’d discounted it out of hand. He made it sound like tolerating or using him was the most he’d expected. “I…”

“And you’re afraid of demons!” The words burst out of him. “So why would—?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” you reply because that’s certainly true. If the manner in which the shadows behind Dale are writhing in distress are any indication, the reassurance can’t hurt. You’re worried about how his nature makes life more complicated and what other people might do, but you’re long past the point of fearing he’d physically injure you on purpose.

“I heard you and Grandfather talking about Two,” Dale replies, as if that proves something. “How you feared them because of what they were. That night, when I remembered what I’d heard, I changed my mind again about what you knew.”

You stare at him before saying slowly, “Dale, I was afraid of Two because they were trying to kidnap and murder us. Their being a demon made them more dangerous, so yes, that made me fear them more than the others. You were who knows where fighting them on your own and I was worried about you.” If you thought Dale looked confused before, he looks downright confounded now. You keep talking, relishing in the opportunity to finally speak honestly about the attack, “However, you being a demon makes you stronger, which reassured me. I couldn’t say anything else because of Grandfather’s attitude, but I did not grow up in Northridge. I may not have met a demon before, but I didn’t live anywhere with the rigorous, studied suspicion and fear that Northridge cultivates.”

“The rest of the world is not Northridge,” Dale acknowledges having composed himself, “but it is not charitable in its view either. And it is not wrong in that opinion. I’ve been on the Surface before. No one has ever treated me in the manner you have after learning what I am. It was impossible to reconcile the person I got to know with someone who would want what humans understand demons to be.”

It’s not as though you can’t follow where he’s coming from. You haven’t told anyone else about what he is for a reason beyond just what Grandfather and Grandmother. You’d never even seriously considered telling any of your siblings because you know they wouldn’t understand. You want to ask further about the personal experience he’s alluding to but that isn’t what matters at this moment. “I…” You take a breath and finally say the obvious truth that you’ve never been able to say directly, even if you alluded to the sentiment right after the attack. “I do want to marry you.” Dale looks thunder-stuck. “Far more than I ever wanted to marry Dale before you took his place.”

“You do?” You’ve never seen Dale look so completely bewildered. “Why?”

“Because he was a selfish, mean, entitled prick.” The plain, honest words slip out without thought and Dale’s eyes widen. “Because you’re not. I like you.” You swallow and continue, “I think we get along well. I would have tolerated marrying him. You make me look forward to marriage.” 

It's a weight lifted to finally say those words, but they inevitably bring up your own confusion, your own lack of understanding of this Dale’s motivations and you can’t pass up the opportunity to ask. “But this is not just about why I have stuck to this facade. Why have you?” You still have no notion of what a demon might want. You’d only barely convinced yourself that Dale wanted this partnership since he was going along with it. He isn’t now. So perhaps you don’t know anything at all. “You could have stolen all you could from Dale and then disappeared to live your own life about a week after being here. You don’t have to be, to be,” you search for the words to define what’s he’s been doing, especially knowing he’s not been working toward the same end goal as you, “taking part in all these events, and playing dutiful grandson with Grandfather, Grandmother, or all the others.” You take a deep breath and add, with only a small shake to your voice, “Or being with me. Why are you still here?”

Dale opens his mouth, but no sound comes out as he stares at you.

Your shoulders slump in the face of his inability to give any reason, let alone a compelling one. “Although, I suppose there is no more wedding, is there? You’ve called it off, for all you haven’t left or told me why.” The prospect of the fall-out to come leaves you exhausted and hurt already. “I assume that leaving will be your next move.”

“No, no,” Dale starts to protest, “I…” Something changes in his expression as he searches for the words to say and this time, they come out steady, “Originally, I stayed because it was easy. I thought the best stroke of luck I’d had in my existence was when that imbecile broke himself opening an unguarded portal and I’d won the fight for his body.”

“Oh.” It had never even occurred to you that there might have been such an event. No matter what he does next, you’re grateful this demon is the one who won too.

“It’d been so long since I’d been up on the Surface,” Dale says wistfully. “I didn’t have a plan beyond getting here. I suppose, at first, I had considered taking what I could and leaving to make my own life. Except…” Your breath, your future hangs on that “except.” “I enjoy it here. Northridge, I mean, not just being out of the Depths. It’s somewhat impossible to know how much is experience and how much is borrowed memory, but I care for Grandfather and Grandmother. And for you. What is here in Northridge is more than I’d hoped for. A safe den, a loyal clan, a bountiful territory, an exemplary mate. Why would I go searching for better when it seemed I’d already found all I could want?”

“Truly?”

“Yes.”

Dale seems so sincere but that only brings your mind back to what prompted this conversation. “Then why are you trying to stop the wedding?”

“Because I thought you didn’t know!” he protests. “I told myself that since I’d never out-right lied to you, that was good enough.” He sighs. “But I realized if my only reason for not telling you who you were even marrying was because you might make a choice I didn’t want, that it was rather despicable.”

You can’t help, but ask the obvious. “Then why didn’t you simply tell me instead of calling the wedding off?”

“Because I’m selfish too,” Dale says, “and I couldn’t bear for you to know the truth and look at me like—.” He breaks off, shaking his head.

He’s returned to not meeting your eyes. Tension has crawled back up his spine to settle in his shoulders. His arms are crossed and he still seems one wrong word away from running. As if Dale’s still waiting for you to reject him. Perhaps you need to make up for all the times you didn’t speak up before. It seems like a fair concession if the hope blooming in your chest is proven true. 

You stand up from your chair, crossing the remaining distance between you and Dale. You place gentle hands on his forearms and they loosen under your touch. Carefully you push those crossed arms down until they hang by his sides where you can entwine your fingers with his. You take advantage of the height he has on you to look up into his eyes, not even surprised to find more than just two. “Well, I do know.” Those glowing blue eyes stare back down at you with the same hope reflected in them. “And I still want to marry you. If you do.”

Dale’s answer is immediate and earnest, “I do. I want that. I want the life we spoke of building more than anything else I’ve ever thought to want.”

You nod, a smile breaking out across your face. “Good. Go-” He cuts you off with a kiss, which starts out light but grows in pressure when you kiss him back. He tries to lift a hand to your face, but instead the back of your own hand still held in his touches your cheek instead. You pull back to see the pout he makes as he stares at his hand, obviously unsure of whether to let yours go or to keep holding on. 

The sound of a door opening above you followed by disgruntled voices pops the bubble of privacy you’d been enclosed in. You sigh. “While we still need to have a full conversation, I think it can wait for tonight at the least, yes?” Dale nods eagerly. “Then I must return to getting ready.”

“And I must assure Grandfather my ‘bout of childish insanity’ is indeed over. I’ve never seen him so furious.” At the look of surprise on your face, Dale smiles. “Regardless of what he thought before, Grandfather certainly thinks well of you now. He repeatedly told me that this would be the worst decision I ever made if I went through with it. He’s refused to even tell Grandmother, more out of fear for me than for her.”

High on emotion and relief, you giggle, too pleased that Grandfather spoke so strongly in your favor. “Did he?”

“Yes,” Dales says as he leads you to the study door. “And it's not as though I could provide a solid defense when I knew he was right.” He pulls you into a solid embrace before letting you go with a final kiss pressed to your forehead. 

You pull the door open without looking away from him, not able to resist asking for one last reassurance, “Your word that you will be there at the other end of the aisle?”

Dale smiles. “Yes, sana, I give you my word that I will let nothing stand in the way of our wedding, not even myself.”

[Part Thirty-One]

[wandering-winchesters]

Tragedy

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 3,626 Summary: The reader is used to hunting solo, yet this solo hunt does not turn out quite like she had hoped. She is required to call on Dean and Sam after she is injured. Trigger Warnings: injury, firearms, blood, death. SPN level violence Requested: No A/N: I hope you enjoy this, I had fun writing it. Please let me know what you think. :)

Masterlist

I let out a sigh, tossing my laptop onto the motel bed, frustrated didn’t even begin to cover it. I had spent the last several hours searching through local records, looking for any deaths that fit the profile of the ghosty murderer floating around town, but nothing lined up. I wished Sam was here, he would’ve been incredibly helpful searching for an answer. But I had split off from them a couple weeks ago, returning to solo hunts, like the old days. They had both argued with me, tried to convince me to stay with them., but I had insisted on going off on my own again. I had to prove to myself that I still could, I felt as if I was slipping into a pit of dependance and a lack of self sufficiency. 

I had spent the last six months hunting with the two Winchester boys, helping them tackle numerous cases, which was nice. However, it terrified me how comfortable I was around them, I had told myself that I wouldn’t ever get too close to someone ever again. But with them, it was too easy to fall into comfortable dependency. Especially Dean. God, Dean Winchester. His eyes could pierce my soul if I let them, they appeal to me like a siren appeals to helpless sailors. I couldn’t resist him when I was around him, causing me to make stupid choices, I went with his gut over my own and it left me feeling helpless. It wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t doing anything intentionally, I just couldn’t help but fall further in love with the green eyed hunter every moment I spent with him. Which is exactly why I left, love had never come easy for me. I had lost my parents as a teenager and branched off on my own, evading the torment that would have greeted me had I gone to live with my Uncle. I never went to college, I hunted. Yet while on one of those hunts, I met Ian. Ian had been the love of my life, before he met an unfortunate end in a terrible car accident, eerily similar to the way my parents died. Death, followed me and those that I let in and loved. 

So I had sworn off love, friendship and anything else that let people into my life. That was until the two Winchesters had busted down the door to the old house, guns drawn, expecting to find me in the captivity of a werewolf den. Instead, they found me. My own weapon drawn, the body of a dead werewolf at my feet. I wish I had been recording that moment, the looks on their faces were utterly priceless. I had agreed to help them on one more hunt, that turned into three, which turned into six months worth. I was getting too comfortable and I just had to get out. That’s how I wound up alone in this motel, attempting to crack the case in this podunk town. I laid down on the musty motel bed, pushing my laptop onto the far side and leaving enough room for me to lay down. I stare at the cracks in the ceiling, following the trail they make and trying to distinguish where one starts and another one ends. Then it hits me, I have been looking in the wrong place this whole time. All of the deaths had occurred at the local bar and I had assumed it was a vengeful spirit, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was a, shit- what are they called? I grab my laptop hurriedly pulling up the lore I had been reading earlier, my eyes scanning the words quickly, skimming until I land on what I was looking for. A wraith. They had all died under mysterious circumstances, but they all had the same wound on their forehead. A small, circular incision. It had to be a wraith, but who was it? There was one bartender, he was my number one suspect. I glance at the clock, it’s not too late to go now. I ensure it is loaded with silver bullets before I tuck my gun into the holster, placing it at the small of my back and covering it with my leather jacket. I glance around my room once more making sure that I am not leaving anything behind. I send Sam a quick text, updating him as to my suspicions, he had texted me earlier in the day just checking in with me, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to keep him updated. 

The drive to the small little dive bar was short and uneventful. I checked to make sure my gun was still in place as I opened the door to the interior, the hinges in need of help judging by the loud shriek of protest they gave off as I opened it. I take in my surroundings, making note of the few people inside the bar. There were five, the bartender and four other customers not including myself. The bartender glances my way, gesturing that I can sit anywhere, he’s an unassuming man. His hair neat and well groomed, yet everything else about him is a mystery, we’ll call him blondie. I take a seat at the corner of the bar, my back to a wall and my field of view encompassing the majority of the room. 

“What can I get you?” He asks, setting a coaster down in front of me. I consider him carefully, trying to determine if he was a threat. I order a beer and a water, fully prepared to sit back and wait everyone else out. The television is the loudest sound in the bar, conversations around me hushed and sparse. Most people too focused on their drinks or the television to be deep in conversation. That’s how the next hour goes, I sip my beer and observe the people around me, watching and waiting. I pull out my phone and see a text and a missed call.

    -Missed call, 9:53 P.M. Sam Winchester 

    -10:13 P.M., From Dean Winchester- Sammy said you found a wraith? Want some backup? They can be tricky bastards. 

An unconscious smile pricks my lips, the concern in his text obvious. I respond with a brief thanks, but no thanks and send Sammy another text asking if everything is okay. 

A few of the other people in the room had left by this point, leaving just myself, the blonde man behind the bar and one other guy, who appeared to be in his mid thirties. I drained the last sip of my beer, setting the bottle down on the surface of the bar. I rolled my shoulders back, my upper back starting to ache from the lack of support provided by the stool that I had been sitting on for the last while. I am taken aback by another beer being set down in front of me, I hadn’t ordered it. The confusion must be clear on my face, because the bar tender gestures to the man a few seats away from me. “It’s from him.” Blondie says, a small smile pulling at his features, which confuses me further. I glance once more to the one other customer in the bar and I find his eyes are already fixed on me, dark and focused. 

“Thanks.” I mutter, raising my beer towards him, suspicion heavy in my voice. For whatever reason, this rubs me the wrong way. The environment in the room had changed and every bone in my body was screaming danger. My gut said this was about to get bad. 

“I figured you deserved another beer before you meet your accidental death. We knew you were a hunter from the second you pulled into town. It’s a pity, you’re too pretty to die this young. Too bad.”  His words hit me like a brick to the face, my eyes close and I take a deep breath. This was it, it wasn’t one wraith it was two. In that moment, I regretted leaving the safety of numbers. Had Sam and Dean been here, it would’ve been three to two. Not two to one, with me on the losing team. I blink once more, taking one more deep breath, the kind that makes your lungs scream from too much oxygen and I hurl my beer bottle at the bartenders head. This action buying me a few seconds, enough to get off the stool and anchor my feet on the old wooden floor. Nevertheless, it wasn’t enough. Blondie had stumbled back from the impact of my beer smacking off the side of his head, however that had given the other wraith the opportunity to close the distance between us. His fist collided with the corner of my jaw he then proceeded to throw me into the hard surface of the bar. I grunt, the sheer force that he had thrown me with enough to knock the air out of my lungs. This hunt was about to go down terribly, I could handle one wraith on my own, but two? I don’t know if I could manage to take out both of them. I can already feel the throbbing in my jaw from his blow and I am dreading how I will feel in the morning, if I make it to the morning. I rest my elbows on the bar top, using my momentum to kick my feet into his chest and send him flying backwards. I use the gap I have created to pull my gun from the waistband of my pants, aim and fire a silver bullet right between his eyes. He drops, dead weight. 

“NO! You’re going to pay for that, you bitch!” Blondie yells, his eyes trained on his friend who had just fallen, dead, to the floor of the bar. I turn to face him, my gun pointed directly at him. He snarls, his attention turned towards me. For whatever reason, I hesitate, my finger doesn’t pull the trigger and I don’t end him. A complete mistake, he closes the distance between us faster than I can comprehend and sends my gun clattering to the floor. His hands shoving me backwards, causing me to stumble and fall to the floor. It happens in a matter of seconds, seconds I cannot even process. My gun is no longer in my hands, but it is clutched in his grip. He points it towards me and fires, it hits me directly in the side. A scream leaves my lips, but I don’t have time to process what just happened because his body is now on top of mine, his anger clear and pulsating through him. My hands come up to defend my face, pushing him away with all of my strength, but he is stronger.  I wrap my fingers around his wrist, knowing what is to follow. The spike in his wrist is already extended and it is clear that he intends to send it straight through my skull. 

“Any last words?” He asks, his mouth set into a sneer, his fingers just brushing my forehead preparing to send the spike through my forehead. 

I grit my teeth, every nerve in my body screaming, adrenaline pumping and thoughts rushing through me. I laugh, bitter and cold and It catches him off guard. That slight hesitation is all I need to get the upper hand, I slide my hand up from where I was gripping his arm. I grab onto the spike extended from his wrist and wrench it backwards with all of my strength, effectively breaking it in two. His scream sends shivers down my spine, the spike still clutched tightly in my fist. I pull the knife from where I keep it hidden around my neck and drive it through his skull, much like he had intended to do to me. His full weight falls onto me and I cry out in pain, his body crushing the oxygen out of my lungs and the bullet wound in my side is throbbing like no other. I manage to slide out from underneath of him, slowly and agonizingly. I scoot myself backwards towards the wall, finally reaching it and I slump back against it. I look down at the hand I had pressed to the gun shot wound on my side and wince, it’s not a pretty sight. Crimson has soaked through the white t-shirt I was wearing, a lot of blood by the looks of it. My head is spinning, either from blood loss or the blow to the head, I wasn’t sure which one. I cover my mouth as a coughing fit wracks my body and when I pull my hand away there are traces of blood there too. Fuck. This really wasn’t good. Before I could even register what I was doing, I had pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Dean. He picks up on the second ring. 

“How’s it going sweetheart? Did you change your mind about wanting help with the wraiths?” He asks, his tone cheery, I can hear the roar of the Impala in the background and it brings a slight smile to my face. I must have remained silent for longer than I thought because Dean speaks again, his voice serious and concern flecked throughout. “Y/N, are you okay?” 

“Mmm, I took out the wraiths, but they got me good too. Any chance you’re nearby?” I groan, trying to reposition myself in such a way that I can apply better pressure to the wound in my side. I can hear the Impala accelerating, as Dean responds. “Shit. We are twenty minutes out from town, figured we’d surprise you. Where’s the bar?” I manage to give him brief directions, doing my best to recall where exactly I was. 

“I’m so tired Dean.” I whisper, the phone beginning to slip from my hand and away from my ear. 

“Hey, no, don’t do that. You don’t get to do that, you hear me? You stay with me, talk to me. I am almost there sweetheart.” He responds and I can hear the panic rising in his voice but its too late. Every breath is a battle, holding my phone to my ear is impossible. The amount of strength it requires is simply too much. I watch as it clatters to the floor, my eyes slowly blinking shut. I slump forward, the world around me fading into black. 

—

I vaguely notice voices, irritating voices drawing me back towards consciousness. I try my damndest to ignore them, the more I focus on them the greater the pain is flowing through my body. I hear my name being yelled, my shoulders behind jostled and my body being laid flat on a hard wooden surface. My head is placed onto something soft and I take that as permission to sleep. Yet I don’t get to do that, hands grab my face pulling me back into consciousness. 

“Y/N, hey, oh thank God, look at me Y/N.” Dean is leaning over me grim faced, his hand pressed tightly against my rips holding something against it. I wince, trying to pull his hand away but he stops me. Sam’s face swims into view as well, his hand cradling the back of my head. 

“Dean.” I sigh, my voice weak and seemingly coming from someone other than myself. “Doesn’t seem too bad, does it?” I ask, laughing slightly before grimacing from the pain that causes. His face is pale, eyes searching for the answer to my question, he doesn’t have to answer, I know it doesn’t look good. 

“Im going to get you out of here, I promise. You’re gonna be okay.” He says, lifting my shirt so he can tie the bandage around me as tight as he can. He picks me up, a yell leaving my lips in the process. I can hear him whispering reassurances and apologies as he carries me out to the Impala. It all feels like a dream, as if I am watching from above as all of this happens. I drift in and out of the darkness the entire car ride, the whole way into the motel room. Until eventually, it all fades to black once again. 

—

“I don’t know what else to do Sammy, the bullet went all of the way through. We stopped the bleeding and stitched her up. But that was hours ago! She still hasn’t woken back up.” Deans voice sounds nearby, anxious and completely grating on my nerves at the moment.

“Would you shut up! ‘M trying to sleep here.” I groan, the throbbing of my nerves returning like a wave of pain rushing over me. I hear a flurry of movement, before the bed sinks down next to me and I can feel a hand rest against the side of my face. I open my eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to adjust my eyes to the harsh lighting a stark comparison to the darkness of sleep I was used to. When my eyes his, he falls apart. Tears spring to his eyes and he breaks down before my very eyes. His mouth opens and closes multiple times, searching for something, anything to say. 

“Dean, Im okay.” I whisper, my voice raspy and aching in my throat. He shakes his head, his eyes still trained on my own. 

“You weren’t, we almost lost you so many times Y/N.” His words sink in slowly, understanding for his reaction lands on me in droves. 

“I’m sorry I worried you. Thank you for getting to me in time.” I reach my hand up and touch the side of his face, surprised when he leans into my touch. 

“He made the twenty minute drive into an eight minute one.” Sam says, and for the first time I realize that he’s sitting in the chair a couple of feet from the bed. I chuckle lightly, unsurprised, Dean was always able to drive way too fast when he needed to, a talent almost. 

We spend the next few hours talking, questions being thrown at me from every angle. I do my best to answer them, but exhaustion quickly settles in. Sam notices and mentions to Dean that they should let me get some sleep, there’s a slight argument over who will stay with me. Much to my surprise, Dean is insistent upon staying himself. Sam gives me a quick hug and excuses himself from the room, which leaves Dean and I alone. Oh so alone. It wasn’t the first time we had shared a room, but it felt completely different this time. An uncomfortable silence hangs between us, neither one of us wanting to be the one that breaks it. I shift my body, trying to prop myself up further in bed. A decision I regret as soon as I flex the wrong muscle and am greeted by a screaming pain in my side. I throw my head back, my mouth opening in a silent yell. Deans hands are on me in an instant, helping me settle into a more comfortable position. I give him a grateful smile and expect the silence to continue, but it doesn’t. 

“You’re never doing this again, you hear me? You’re only ever hunting with us from now on. I could’t bear it when I found you like that and I definitely couldn’t bear it if it ever happened again.” Dean says quietly, his eyes trained on the floor. I’m quiet for a minute, considering my response carefully, unsure where his words were coming from. Dean wasn’t controlling, so it wasn’t that. Concern was evident, but I didn’t think that was enough to spur him to make that declaration. 

“Dean, I am really okay. It was a bad turn of events, but I have been hunting for years on my own and I made it this far. You don’t need to worry about me, ill be-“ He cuts me off, his voice raised and his hands running through his already disheveled hair. 

“You don’t get it, do you? Ever since that night, six months ago, I have worried about you. I care about you, Y/N, so worrying comes with the territory. For a time, I thought you cared about me in that way. But then you left. You just left and I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I followed after you, not wanting something to happen to you and thank god I did.” His words leave me speechless, did he mean what I think he means? Before I can protest or respond in anyway, he’s walking over to me. He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning towards me. His hand comes to rest on the back of my neck, pulling me towards him ever so slightly. He leans in, his face nearing my own and my eyes flutter shut. His nose brushes my own, his breath causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. 

“ I love you, Y/N and nearly losing you, made me realize that I couldn’t keep that to myself any longer. Fear in the face of tragedy and all of that.” He mumbles, his lips nearly brushing against my own as he speaks. I don’t think, I just act. I close the distance and press my lips against his own, dissolving into the kiss and I can tell he does too. His warmth envelopes me entirely, his lips, his touch, everything. When I finally pull away, my head is spinning. His words rushing through my mind, over and over again. “I love you too, Dean.” I whisper, smiling gently and I press another kiss to his lips. “Fear in the face of tragedy, how poetic.” 

[protagaster]

Part 4 of the Warrior!Penelope Swap AU

DID YOU GUYS SEE THE NEWS!?

VENGEANCE SAGA RELEASES ON OCTOBER 31ST!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Editor/Co-Author: @somereaderinblue (GeminiWillow on Ao3)

(Cross-Posted on Ao3)

Remember Them

528 left under her command… 

~

The scent in the air was full of metallic must. A river stream of thick red liquid flowed down the dirt floor, forming itself into a small lake made with that oh-so precious liquid life. 

Pebbles scurried down the cave walls, broken apart from the crumbling rock they were once one with. A cloud of dust, a combined mixture of rubble and sand, slowly built itself up and infiltrated the entirety of the cave. 

The origin of all this havoc, the very reason behind this devastation, slept soundly on the cave ground without a worry in the world. A cyclops, his one eyelid lowered in complete and utter peace; not a single nightmare plagued him once his eye shut.

If one had just arrived they would have not known of the events that transpired mere seconds ago. 

They would not have known this cyclops to have declared war on 600 soldiers. They would not have seen him wielding a club, striking and killing 72 women in the name of the livestock they needed so desperately to keep going. They would not have dove out the way of his collapsing figure, the impact of his fall so severe it left devastating consequences to his cave. 

Or perhaps they would have. After all, isn’t it obvious from first glance when looking into the eyes of a monster?

“...captain...”

Penelope stood mere feet before that sleeping cyclops. She couldn’t move. Frozen in her step, every muscle in her body painfully constrained… 

72. 

72 women she had kept safe in Troy and yet couldn't keep safe on the way home. 

72 women whose screams kept ringing in her ears.

72, including her Circes. 

“...captain…”

Penelope no longer felt like herself.

Right now, at this very moment, the captain was nothing more than a shell; a shell that found pain in its wholeness, for her kin were reduced to fragments left to rot like rubbish, like nothing. By the gods Circes wouldn't have a funeral or an obol, how would she get to the Underworld-

Suddenly, Penelope felt something from the real world make contact with her shell. 

Ctimene gripped her captain’s arm and pulled her close, forcing the leader to look away from the dreaming monster.

“Captain!”

Ctimene’s voice, finally louder than the silence, snapped Penelope out of her detachment. 

“We must move quickly, we don't have much time.” Penelope spoke with a monotone voice, not an ounce of emotion on her features. 

She spared a fleeting glance to the abandoned amphorae, the wine vessel from which the Cyclops drank. 

“He didn't notice I mixed lotus in his wine.” 

Penelope was still in a strange state, one she’s never experienced before in all her life. But, by some miracle, her limbs were no longer anchored to her state of mind.

She wasn't ready for battle. She was ready for vengeance.

She released herself from Ctimene’s grip. 

Penelope moved to walk past her best friend. The only one she had now. 

“Mark my words now, this is not the end…”

Ctimene, whose red puffy eyes were only just beginning to clear, looked up with a gaze filled only with worry and concern for Penelope, whose eyes were distant and far away. 

Ctimene placed a hand, so small but so scarred, so strong and yet so gentle, on her sister’s shoulder. 

“But captain, what'll we do with our fallen friends?”

Penelope paused, both from her sister’s action and words. 

72 women fallen at the hands of hunger and hubris. And yet it was 1 whom both women knew this question referred to. 

There she was, not so close but not far enough, laying on the dirt floor; pale and dirty and cold. Her signature ribbon was stained with her own blood; the light pink did not mix well with sinful red. 

Just like that, their group of 3 became one of 2. 

Just like that, the feeling of emptiness inside Penelope filled with a searing rage both familiar and not. 

Just like that Penelope’s impassive eyes slowly morphed into one of determination, welling up with tears that longed to make themselves known. 

“Remember them.” Penelope said with no waver in her tone, despite the few stray tears now streaming down her cheeks. 

Some thought her reaction to have been too late, whilst others knew it came when it was needed. 

Regardless, Penelope was no longer disconnected to the moment at hand. 

She was there, she was pissed. 

And she was not alone.

There were still 528 left under her command. 528 who still had the chance to return to their most sacred place. 

528 who were still counting on her.

Turning to face the ones who had not fallen to this monster, addressing them with her head hung in respect for the dead, Penelope spoke with no falter in her voice. 

“When the fire begins to fade, for the fallen and afraid, we are not to let them die in vain…” 

Finally their captain lifted her head. There it was, that raging flame in her eyes, the same one that got them through the war in the first place. The reason behind stroking those flames had changed, but the desire to burn was still the same. 

“Remember Them!”

Now, with her spear in hand, Penelope stood tall and regal with its support. Her spirit may have taken a blow, but the Gods and their creatures were foolish if they thought they could waver this mortal from finding her way. 

“We're the ones who carry on the flames of those who've gone,” Her voice was now booming, crying out her words like a lioness’ war cry. “And our comrades will not die in vain!”

Penelope strode to the Cyclops’ stray club, having fallen with its wielder upon his collapse. 

“I need all our hands on his club! This is how we're getting out of here!” 

Slicing its wooden flesh with her spear-point, Penelope unconsciously mimicked the action she had seen her husband perform many times whilst perfecting his craft. 

“Use your blades to sharpen the stub, and turn it to a giant spear!”

The rest of the soldiers had seemingly recovered from watching their sisters die, all thanks to their captain’s speech. 

Upon hearing Penelope’s command, each woman’s inner volcano built up to near eruption. Their anger, as hot and searing as molten lava, flowed amongst them all. Whether it be men or monsters, all in their path were naught but kindling for their flames.

These women wanted to avenge their friends. The only way to do this, they silently agreed amongst themselves, was to take an eye for an eye.

“Let's kill him!”

Penelope, though, sternly placed herself in front of their anger. 

“His body is blocking the path!” She pointed to where the Cyclops lay, behind him the cave’s only source of light and fresh air.  “If we kill him we'll be stuck inside!” 

Ctimene, the voice of the crew, looked to her captain for a solution to their dilemma. “Captain, where do we attack him?”

Penelope glared at the Cyclops, both angered and amazed at the serenity of his sleep. “We gotta stab him in the eye!”

“Yes ma’am!”

The crew immediately put themselves to work carving their wooden spear, knowing their time was running out.

“Remember them!” 

Thanks to their determination it took almost no time for the cyclop’s club to be no more. Now, reshappen to look like a crude replica of Penelope’s spear, the wooden weapon longed once more to feed on liquid life. 

“When the fire begins to fade for the fallen and afraid, we are not to let them die in vain…” 

The women carried the wooden spear to where their one-eyed adversary slumbered defenselessly. Along the way they passed by 71 bodies, unable to bear looking them in the eyes that are now forever filled with fear. 

Penelope paused her step at body 72.  

“Remember them…”

It was unfair. Nobody deserved to die today, but Circes was the least deserving of them all. 

Beautiful, optimistic, loving Circes…

Even though she had been given the right to bear a Goddess’ name, something that anybody and everybody else would use to their endless advantage, she only ever used it to emphasize the importance of mercy; of greeting the world with open arms…

“We're the ones who carry on the flames of those who've gone, and our comrades will not die in vain…”

Penelope removed that pink ribbon wrapped tightly around Circe’s hair. She then collected most of her own loose and wild hair in one hand, using the ribbon to tie it up in a messy but functional ponytail.

Before returning to the living Penelope leaned down, gently shutting Circe’s eyes to spare her from the view. 

“NOW!” Penelope ordered.

The entire crew, Ctimene at the front, thrust the wooden spear inside the Cyclop’s closed eye. 

“ROOOOOOOAR!”

The Cyclops woke with an ear shattering cry, one that dripped with pain in its rawest form. He sat up straight away, blood dripping down from his speared eye and mixing with that little red lake.

Quick to get a grip on himself, Polyphemus immediately took hold of the second possession stolen from him that day and ripped it from his socket. No longer able to rely on his sense of sight, Polyphemus tried to feel around and grab one the monsters that intruded on his home.

However, their leader had already suspected this.

“Scatter!”

The Cyclops heard this and attempted to stop them, trying to hear and feel his way toward their direction. But ants lack sound as much as they lack size and these women have long since learnt to hone stealth into an asset more deadly than any weapon.

The women ran toward the cave opening from whence they came, large rocks and the sheep surrounding them. Behind them, the Cyclops continued to roar and cry out in complete and utter anguish. 

Suddenly, another voice called out from deeper within the cave. 

“Who hurts you?”

The women froze in their tracks. Their blood ran cold, their breaths grew short, and goosebumps tingled from the back to their necks. 

Penelope and Ctimene were the only ones brave enough to look back. 

Right there, in the tunnel leading further down the cave, a single giant eye emerged from the darkness. 

“There are more of them?” Ctimene’s voice shuddered in realization. 

One monstrous voice became two, then two became three. More and more voices joined the original, more than could possibly be discerned by ear. 

With each voice came another eye appearing out of the darkness of that tunnel entrance. Just like with the voices, so many eyes emerged from the shadows.

“Who hurts you?”

Penelope placed a firm hand on Ctimene’s arm, looking from her second-in-command to the rest of her crew.

“Hide." She whispered. 

Each woman ran to hide behind one of the many giant rocks. They were clustered in groups of two or three, most holding onto each other in a desperate attempt to sate their fear. 

No one so much as took a breath. They were afraid that even the slightest movement, the quietest sound, would be all it took to alert the Cyclopes of their presence. 

“Who hurts you?”

Penelope and Ctimene hid together behind the rocks closest to the Cyclopses, closest to Polyphemus. 

Ctimene couldn’t take it. They had lost 72 women to only one Cyclops; how on earth would they be able to survive against an entire clan of them?

They couldn’t, Ctimene knew this. 

“Captain, we should run-” 

“Wait…” Penelope interrupted the other. 

“Who hurts you?”

Even more Cyclopses than before, how was that even possible?!

Ctimene tried to ground herself by gripping tightly onto Penelope’s arm, but it didn’t work. There was this genuine look of horror in her eyes, as if she just realized that her life was on the line with no choice in the matter. 

Ctimene had never felt this even when she was drafted to war in her husband’s stead. She had never experienced this even when fighting in the battlefields of Troy for over a decade. 

But now, with the weight of her soul in another’s hands, Ctimene couldn’t shake this newfound fear of death. 

“Captain, please!” She begged.

However, even with Ctimene’s hand gripping her flesh so tightly it would no doubt leave a bruise, even with the voice of her partner in crime pleading in her ear, Penelope did not falter.

“Wait.” 

Polyphemus, hands over the empty cavity that once housed his single eyes, answered the question his brothers demanded to know.

“It was Nobody, Nobody…”

With that as his answer, Polyphemus’ kin backed away from the dark entry. 

“If nobody hurts you, be silent.”

 And with that, the Cyclopses returned to the deepest recesses of the cave one after the other. 

“Don't go!”

But it was too late. Just as it had been his entire life, Polyphemus was left alone with no other Cyclops willing to stay by his side. 

And so, the blind Cyclops kneeled defeated in his lonesome. 

Penelope, seeing that their biggest threat was now broken, pointed in the way of the cave’s opening. 

“Let's grab the sheep and away we go.” 

The crew did just that, grabbing every single sheep the Cyclops had in his flock. By the end, almost every single woman ran out of that cave holding a sheep in her arms. 

Not every woman who entered that cave made it out. Every woman who did manage to escape with her life intact had her outfit stained with blood. For the first time in an entire decade, that blood belonged to a dead Greek. 

Penelope was the last to run out of the cave, and by definition was the last to board her ship. 

She had ordered the anchors to be lifted, commanded the rowers to set a course for open waters, was prepared to forever leave this awful place and once again be reunited with her old companion that was the sea.

 Only to feel a familiar dose of adrenaline rush through her blood. 

A sense of blind courage invaded her thoughts. It was different from normal though; this kind of divine courage was supposed to feel empowering, but right now it only highlighted her desperation. 

“Have you forgotten the lessons I taught you?” Ares manifested himself in front of Penelope, housing himself in her mind and thus visible to only her eyes. “He's still a threat until he's dead!” 

Ares aimed his spear back toward the direction of the cave. 

Though his eyes were covered to all the world, anyone who could look into them in that moment would see the expression of a man who cared only for the glory that would emerge upon the aftermath of bloodshed. 

“Finish it.”

But there was something the God of War just couldn’t comprehend, something that mortals knew to be all too true: once blood is shed, defeat comes quickly after. 

“No.” 

Ares stilled, dangerously so. He slowly turned to face his mortal, eyes alarmingly narrow from inside his helm. 

“No?”

Penelope knew her hands were not free of sin. Back then, during her time fighting the war, so many people who called Troy home had lost their lives thanks to her, be it her weapon or mind.

Men who bore arms for the sake of their honor, women who refused to stand idle and let their homes be destroyed, even a defenseless baby whose only sin was being watched by the Gods… 

All of them were probably cursing her from the moment they set foot in the underworld. 

But, even if her hands were stained with their blood, Penelope could at least justify it to herself at night by saying it was necessary. She was drafted from the Heavens themselves.  She didn’t have a choice. 

Here…

“What good would killing do? When mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use…” 

Penelope looked down at her hands, faintly stained with the dried blood. Belonging not to the no-eyed monster, but to her dear, precious friend. 

“My friend is dead, our foe is blind, the blood we shed, it burns so hot!”

Penelope couldn’t handle it. The blood of 72 women who had thought their lives now secure, all on her hands. 

How many more would bleed out as a result of her desire for bloodshed?

 “Is this what it means to be a Warrior of the Heart?”

Penelope couldn’t let it end like this, she couldn’t let her sisters’ death end in such a meaningless way. 

The captain immediately grabbed hold of her spear, the very same one that granted her the gift of Ares’ guidance. She turned around, walking to the end of her ship. Walking where the cave stayed ominously quiet, fading slowly as 12 ships sailed away from its rocky hollow. 

Ares realized what she was planning to do. 

“Don't!” 

Penelope pushed his presence from her mind, but not from her body. She could still feel that rush of adrenaline course through her blood, sense that touch of mettle grounding her spirit. 

“Hey, Cyclops!”

Now, filled to the brim with pure resolved boldness, Penelope felt nothing but the high of courage. Courage to face the Cyclops one final time. 

“When we met, I led with peace, while you fed your inner beast! But my comrades will not die in vain, Remember them!”

The crew listened to their captain’s words, defeat and exhaustion trickling amongst them. Many shed tears of loss for their fallen friends, some still held on to each other for fear that if they let go they would lose even more of their sisters-in-arms. 

Ctimene was the only one who still had the strength to look up at her captain. Her eyes were wary and her fists were clenched. A strange cynic look, faint but still there, momentarily revealed itself; only for a second. 

“The next time that you dare choose not to spare Remember Them! Remember Us!”

Penelope held her head high and proud, her posture tall and straight and regal in all its glory. She lifted her spear…

“Remember Me!” 

And stabbed the wooden floor of her ship. A small crack in the foundation resulted from the captain’s attack. 

“I'm the reigning Queen of Ithaca! I am neither man nor mythical! I am your darkest moment! I am the unyielding…”

Penelope’s stray bangs, which could not be held back with the ribbon, flew in her face and framed her sharp, glaring eyes. For that one single moment, her face was unforgettable. 

“Penelope!”

With that, the boats were quick to sail away, not a sound or a song uttered amidst the giant sea. 

Nobody noticed Polyphemus' mouth split into a cruel, forboding smile.

[saccharinecoffee]

In merit and rule, Ch. 1 | LouWill

Pairing ◈ Louis Guiabern & Will

Chapter word count ◈ 2,102

Info & Warnings ◈ Post-canon, slow burn, mutual pining, future smut, Louis social link, spoilers for the whole game!!

Read on Ao3

"As penance for his crimes, His Majesty the King William I has sentenced Count Louis Guiabern to a life of duty in service of the crown." The rightful heir takes the throne, Louis bends the knee, and a strange bond of trust is forged.

“As penance for his crimes, His Majesty the King William I has sentenced Count Louis Guiabern to a life of duty in service of the crown.”

The throne room was dead silent as Batlin read his first decree to the Lords and Ladies of the United Kingdom of Euchronia. Will was seated at the very back, on the elevated marble podium where the people’s throne lay. At the very foot of it were his comrades in arms, the recently appointed Six Partisans and his captive in war. Between Leon Strohl and Eiselin Hulkenberg was the man every single person in the room was staring at with looks of utter contempt and disdain, a tall head of pale blond curls and soiled cream leather.

Bound in iron around his wrists and stripped of his igniters he was only a man, and one nobody could bring themselves to fear any longer.

“King William I does not pardon his crimes against Euchronia,” continued the crier, “but offers leniency on the count of the admittance of his guilt and his unprompted submission to His Grace.”

That was enough to prompt a buzzing of chatter amongst the crowd. In hushed voices and frustrated huffing they displayed their scorn, not just for Louis, but also his prosecution.

Batlin rolled up his scroll and glanced sheepishly at Will. He could only sigh. He’d always expected that dealing with the Lords would be the most difficult part of ruling, but he hadn’t expected pushback on his very first audience, much less with how overwhelmingly popular Louis had been.

The people were fickle, he supposed. Especially those who wanted to poke and prod their way up the social ladder.

He stood up and raised his hand, quieting the whispers across the hall in an instant. The long, regal cape he wore over his shoulders weighed down his every movement, and his crown just the same. Symbols of the responsibility he bore of carrying both his fate and the people’s trust. There was, however, a safety in that feeling, one he saw reflected in the eyes of his closest friends, his confidants, and now, his protectors. It only spurred him further and lit the dark path before his feet.

“Count Louis has done this country a great harm and disservice, be it in regicide, conspiracy, or magic-born atrocities – of this I will never deny,” he spoke loud and firmly. He took a step down, and then another, inching closer to his comrades and his captive with every word he uttered. “However! I will not put another man to the sword without due process and reason. The former was resolved the moment Louis Guiabern bent the knee before the Six and I. The latter is made clear if you take the smallest glance at the life he has led.”

He stood before them all on equal footing. Etiquette demanded the King to always stand above all, or so he learnt in his youth. Instead, he followed the rule he chose for himself. With his back to his chained nemesis and his front to the country’s most powerful figureheads. His journey to that point had taught him many a skill, and audacity was but one of them.

“My Lords and Ladies this man has more use to us alive than he does dead. No matter how you spin the truth, that much is clear.”

Years of stellar service in the military, unprecedented skill in battle, wisdom in war and intelligence in analysis. Resilience in facing horrors, shrewdness in overcoming obstacles, and building an empire of his own. Banding tribes of all creeds together and making them work with each other seamlessly was but the tip of the iceberg. Look a little under that and one could find a wealth of rich expertise. Louis was everything he needed in a new administration. If he weren’t so corrupted by grief he might have made an admirable ally from the get-go.

When he turned around to face away the disgruntled crowd, Hulkenberg eyed him somberly in concern. It mattered not. He knew he was doing the right thing.

“Do any of you know what it is like to hold no prejudice in your heart? To treat others equally and measure them on their work and character alone?”

Louis’s eyes pierced his own most sharply, something indescribable in the ice-cold blue of his irises. 

“This man’s crimes will not be ignored, and will not go unpunished. But he will be utilised to help further our nation’s project of unification and equity. Despite our countless differences, and despite his treason, we have a shared ideal.” He faced the crowd one last time, and in earnest, he concluded. “I ask only that you trust my judgement.”

Louis was tall and dignified, even when bound and rid of his prosthetic horns. He towered over Will as he eyed their Clemar, Roussainte and Rhoag guests with as much disdain as his stoicism permitted. It was satisfying, Will realised. So used to the vitriol of others he was, he’d quickly learnt to always keep his head down and save face. Louis cared little of it, especially now that the cat was out of the bag. Self-preservation meant nothing when stripped of titles and protected under the crown.

When he looked down at Will, he could have sworn he was smirking just a fraction. The notion aggravated him. It was hard not to when Louis was the reason he lost so much and almost lost a whole lot more.

“Louis Guiabern. Do you swear now and forever, in front of all the great houses of the Kingdom of Euchronia, your undying fealty to me as your King and to my sovereignty across the land?”

Louis’s eyes sharpened like blades, his gaze never leaving Will’s as he got down on one knee and reached his bound hands for Will’s own. The gesture was unexpected, more akin to how a knight might ask a maiden for her favour than a soldier begging forgiveness. Weeks of strange emotions welled up in him, weeks of taking apart and building Louis’s ideology back together, of analysing every look he gave Will over the course of their acquaintance in futile attempts and better understanding him, of begrudgingly easily empathising with his feelings as a fellow Elda, orphaned and cursed and left with nothing to grasp but a name. Spellbound, he watched the blond's elegant movements, his gaze met with his own. Like he could read Will wide open, in most infuriating defiance, he brought his left hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He felt his cheeks burn, heart caught in his throat as his lips curled into a scowl. The Lords were all used to rings being kissed by their vassals, the Ladies accustomed to roses and handkerchiefs. Louis was of the Eldan Sanctum, of the skies and the battlefield; what he did was a provocation, surely, not fealty.

Will looked up and met the mortified looks on his friends' faces, Hulkenberg and Heismay ready with hands on the hilts of their swords. But Will, heart pounding in his ears and so drawn into Louis’s strange web, only watched in vexed fascination.

The curly blond tresses of his hair were more matted than before in the aftermath of his imprisonment, but they curled into his cheeks and framed his face most handsomely nonetheless. His surcoat was dirtied in brown, either by blood died cold or dirt left unshrugged from the aftermath of their battle and fall from the skies.

It was arrogance. Everything about Louis dripped that brand of confidence built like gilded armour around a heart they both knew and saw was tortured with anxious trauma. To feign submission most transparently, after everything he did to him and his country, was begging for punishment. Will was forgiving and understanding, with a heart large enough to gather all with both flaw and virtue, but Louis was walking on a knife’s edge. Purposefully so.

He did not hide the frustration in his face. And Louis seemed utterly amused, gazing up through his lashes and pretty hair. If he could, Will would show him his royal archetype once more.

“I’ve already done so, Your Grace. But I swear it anew before the pigs who gorge themselves on that which they did not earn.”

It took Will’s best efforts not to laugh amidst his anger. It was a great offence, one that had gasps and loud sneers of indignation echoing throughout the hall, begging for their Majesty to cull the man’s head right off his shoulders for insubordination.

Will barely heard any of them, as he and the man below him shared something between their locked gazes that kept his feet rooted to the ground. His undivided attention rested not in the court or in the words he ought to say, but the conspiratorial smile the Count offered most willingly. Perhaps he did wrong in doubting him.

The look in his mirthful eyes wasn’t one of insubordination; it was one of a desire for challenge. His tongue peeked from between his lips and licked over the raw, pink skin, barely parched despite the less-than-optimal conditions of his prison cell. Will mirrored the gesture unconsciously, his heart fluttering with excitement in his chest, his palms growing sweaty.

Naive. They would call him naive. But how could they not, when they didn’t know what it was that swimmed between them when he grabbed Louis from the fall and brought him back to his senses amidst the humid earth at dawn. They didn’t understand the grief in Louis’s eyes as he saw the King’s archetype fall from around Will as he closed his hands in tight fists in his lap, his ego crushed and his ideals of equality smothered by his King. They could never even guess the strange grin he gave him as he admitted with uncharacteristic humility Will was his better, worthy of the title, and leagues stronger than he ever could be. 

For a man like Louis, that was loyalty in the truest form. Loyalty born out of pure, unadulterated merit. He was a man who followed not the rule of law but the rule of labour.

Vexation and feverish heat ever present, Will nodded, his voice so low only Louis and those closest to them could hear.

“Doublecross me at your own risk.”

Louis cocked his head to the side, not unlike a playful cat. His pale thumb unconsciously traced over his knuckle.

“Do you mistrust me so, that you’d doubt me after all you’ve seen?”

“I don’t know what to think about you.” The words were almost spat out, the months of exhaustion that had insidiously built up beginning to creep up on him the more he tried to make sense of the blond. 

“I think you do,” he said with utmost ease, his voice silky soft and caressing him in all the right ways. Louis was complicated, a right headache of a man, but at the root of it they were two sides of the same coin. Bound by tribe, by ideals, by fate. He could assume the worst all he desired, the truth was bare and spoken plainly before him.

He squeezed Louis's hand lightly, the walls around his heart hardening. As he slipped it away from his calloused palm, little jolts of electricity danced on the surface of sun-kissed skin.

New Bond: Rank one.

“You’ll earn my trust if you’re as honest as you claim to be.”

For a fraction of a second Louis seemed relieved, bowing his head as his shoulders relaxed before looking back up with the same infuriating smile.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Will took a deep breath, the weight of his Kingdom on his back as he took his sword out. He brought the tip to Louis’s left shoulder, then raised it and rested it on the right.

“I pronounce thee, Louis Guiabern, my loyal vassal and retainer henceforth,” he spoke louder, projecting his voice deserving of his title. He then sheathed his sword and took a step back. “Now rise.”

Louis did just that, towering over Will once more. He realised how relaxed he had been as he watched him quickly became rigid before the hateful eyes of the court. He was nothing if not a caged animal patiently peering through iron bars and salivating at his own bloody thoughts. It threatened to send a shiver down his spine.

“This audience is adjourned," he said finally, wiping the sweat of his hands on the pristine fabric of his trousers. "I bid you all good tidings and safe travels.”

◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider sharing and checking out my other works! 💗💗💗

[lewmagoo]

Waking up to find your cowboy not in bed with you. His boots aren't by the door but you can see footprints in the freshly fallen snow outside. You follow them to the barn to see Rhett, asleep on a haybale wearing just his jacket. His flannel is now a nest for the barn cat's new kittens with another fleecy blanket added in for extra warmth.

rhett’s a tender soul. always has been. despite the fact that his father tried to quash that part of him, in an effort to “toughen him up”. rhett always kept that tender part of himself when it came to animals. he’s always had a special connection with them. with his mare, june, despite her stubborn tendencies. with the mysterious crow (affectionately named john) that follows him around every time he’s outside. with the cranky barn cat that tolerates only him. he’s the cowboy snow white, as you’ve lovingly dubbed him. there are always animals in his vicinity. he’s always been good about helping animals when they’re in distress. one time, he stayed up all night with june when she developed a sickness that required round the clock care. he nursed john the crow back to health when he injured his wing. he’s been known to raise orphaned baby squirrels and rabbits.

and then there’s the time that misty the cranky barn cat becomes pregnant. rhett watches over her carefully. it’s really a sight to behold. you’ve always loved watching him interact with animals. when you’re working in the stable or going on trail rides you’ll hear the way he talks to june, a low comforting rumble, communicating with her as if she understands every word he’s saying. you suspect she does. and of course there’s the way he’s so loving toward misty. she’ll always linger around his feet when he’s in the stable, and sometimes she’ll even climb up to sit on his shoulder. that happens less and less the more heavily pregnant she becomes. and then there comes the time when she’s going to give birth.

the closer the time gets, the more rhett checks on her throughout the day. and then, one morning, he slips out of bed early, leaving a lingering kiss to your forehead as you sleep peacefully, before he shoves his boots and jacket on and trudges out through the freshly fallen snow. that’s where he finds misty huddled in a corner of the stable, in the beginning stages of labor. he knows he can’t move her into the house, it would put her into distress. so he sets up camp in the barn. all he has is his flannel, so he shrugs out of it and allows misty to lay upon it. he’s a loving and gentle coach as she births her tiny little kittens, and once they come safely into the world, he tucks an extra blanket that he found in the tack room around the litter to keep them all warm as their mama gets settled around them. not wanting to leave her alone, he leans back against some stacked hay bales, but inevitably ends up falling asleep.

that’s where you find him an hour later. after waking up to an empty bed you head out to the stable to find him fast asleep, and there is misty the barn cat on the floor beside his feet, curled up with her new babies. it’s a precious sight, especially when you see he’s given up his shirt in order for misty to have a soft place to lay. you sit beside him on a hay bale and gently coax him awake. “rise and shine, cowboy,” you murmur. he stirs awake, and as he catches you looking at him, he smiles sleepily. “had t’ come help misty give birth,” he mumbles. “i see that,” you reply. “you make a great cat midwife.” he smirks at that. “thank y’. been practicin’ my whole life for this moment.” which is partly true. he’s been involved in plenty of animal births. “well, now that you’ve helped bring kittens into the world, how about some pancakes and coffee for breakfast? i’m sure midwifing made you work up an appetite.”

the promise of pancakes and coffee gets him up and out of his bed of hay, food motivated as he is. “don’t mind if i do,” he says as he pecks your lips. he still checks on misty throughout the day, and if the temperatures drop too low during the night, he will bring her and her babies inside to keep them warm. soon, your house is full of kittens. rhett is attached to each of them, even though he knows you can’t keep them all. before you find homes for each one, this is what he constantly looks like:

he gives one to amy. he keeps the rest, insisting that this is their home and he doesn’t want to uproot them from it. that’s how you end up having four barn cats. at least you can say you won’t ever have a mouse problem with them around 🤷‍♀️

(thank you @laracrofted for bringing up rhett covered in kittens because it’s awakened something i think)

[twistedlovelines]

Fem Riddle... Oh the potential for angst is so delicious it makes me salivate

Riddle lived her whole life trying to be the best she can do that she can get a husband that's worth joining families with. Being the only rosehearts child and a daughter her parents told her that she'll be keeping her name when she marries, which lessens the number of potential suitors.

Her first exposure to sapphic relationships was when she was sneaking into the bakery and saw two women on a date kiss. She thought she felt shock and disgust at the display but as she becomes older she realises it was awe and jealousy.

As she started attending night raven college she'd notice other girls on campus acting more lovey than platonic towards eachother. Every time she saw any public displays of affection she'd turn red and run the other way.

Her mind always goes back to the lecture her mother gave her when she noticed her staring at a girl for too long. She's the heir of Rosehearts, her duty is to her house. Not for silly flings with college girls she'll never see after graduation.

That mantra always eased her mind. Until a ln otherworldly prefect enters her life. She hates her. What is wrong with that one? Why can't she dismiss the way she feels about them like she always did? She hates her.

Riddle had not known peace of mind since she met her. Studying has become more difficult, that's how hard it has become.

She figured it out when she was lecturing the prefect for sitting in her seat one day. No one else was in the room, all other seats were empty. But what did the prefect decide to say?

"you can always sit on my face, a two for one deal if you will. You'll have your seat and I'll shut up."

Riddle is shellshocked, absolutely flabbergasted. What is wrong with the prefect???? Only later that night does she realise that would've accepted the prefects offer. With glee, even.

She can't tell anyone, not even her childhood friend. No one will believe her! The prefect is normally so reserved that she almost thought she hallucinated their words.

For now though she'll repeat them in her mind and use her hands and imagination.

(oh riddle the moment you learn what comphet is it's over for you 🥰)

-🔱

🔱 consider: singing Good Luck Babe by Chappel Roan in the shower after this happens <3 something about the nonchalant, utterly comfortable prefect bothers her so much...the way your mere touch seemed to crack the glass closet she had been contained in, a small chip rapidly spreading, ravenous until the constraints shatter, glass laying at her feet, reflecting only herself....

i want to write a full fic on this and flesh it out because i do quite like this idea, but i hope you enjoy this small snippet of it for now <33

(fem! riddle x fem! reader)

When you had abruptly transferred to NRC, the headmaster decided it'd be best to select Riddle as your roommate- after all, she was courteous, was a stellar student, and would serve as a good influence on you! What better way to acclimate you to your (ethically run, soundly funded) new campus than letting one of the top students be your guide? You could practically hear him preen at his own words.

Nonetheless, Riddle was a good roommate. She went to bed at 10:15 P.M. sharp every night (except for Fridays and Sundays, in which she would sleep at 10:45 P.M.), was organized, didn't hog the shower for inordinate amounts of time, and would even offer to assist you if you seemed to struggle in a subject.

Yet this tidied, perfectly drawn together image she had only made you curious. She didn't have a boyfriend (and had asserted that her ideal husband would be of respectable status, honor, and career) when you had asked if she had one in mind. Her reactions to the notion of traditional romance seemed...scripted. Unfeeling.

You didn't press her much after that. Despite her near-aversion to romance, you often noticed her eyes drifting towards it, pulled in by some magnetic force. Interestingly enough, though, she seemed to only pay attention to women. Women who held hands. Who kissed each other on the cheek before parting to their respective classes, who shared a strawberry sundae when the weather got too hot.

[mrhowells]

Smallville 5x06

"How you ever had a crush on Richie Cunningham, I will never understand."

I'm actually so easy to please

"And Lois... *laughs* I'd do anything to get rid of Lois."

but thinking about how annoying she is makes him laugh, soooooo... she's a good influence, I rest my case😌😌

Jonathan knows too, like-

Chloe & Lois as an investigative duo are actually really fun

Lex really lives in Jonathan's head rent free💀💀

ohmygoooooddd

MOTHER.

"She's here to dance."

Chloe really threw Lois under the bus like that I'm cryingsjakjsha

the struggle is real💀

SOOOOO let's see if Jonathan actually apologizes when it turns out Lex didn't do anything

CLARKFNKLJFDISLYS

COVER YOUR EYES SWEET SUMMER CHILD

Lois x bisexual lighting I LIVEEEE

they did that for me😭😌

"I'll have a coke😇" ... "S- straight up, on the rocks.😤"

JAkhsshfdlskaBOOBOO WHAT ARE YOU-

I just choked on my ice cream

LMAOOOOOO bless his heart

THE STRUGGLE IS REAL PART 2 I'M CRYINDHSGFJFKD

I'm really not ready for what's about to go down here😭😭

🎶DON'T YOU WISH YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS HOT LIKEEE MEEEEEEE🎶

Someone needs to go to jail for that music choice💀💀

TOM WELLING YOUR FACE JOURNEYS. LET ME SAY THANK YOU KING🙇‍♀️

this is history in the making. absolutely iconic.

🎶DON'T YOU WISH YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS WRONG LIKE MEEEEEE🎶🎶

i do wish she was my girlfriend actually they're so right

aaand she's getting into it

ON MY FUCKING KNEES FOR HER MA'AM YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE PLEASEEEE

he's kind of giving me:

PLEASEWSWKRJWOPQP

EVERY SINGLE FRAME OF THIS IS SO FUCKING ICONIC LIKE WHAT DO I EVEN SAY??

it's okay bb, we're all looking respectfully right now

💀💀💀THE STRUGGLE IS REAL PT.3

SOMEONE PLEASE HELP THIS BEAN

kshadjwka his fight or flight is kicking in😭😭

"What are you doing here?" "What are YOU doing here?"

story of their life fr

the struggle has never been more real, pray for Clark💀

.

they did that.

smallville writers really did that.

legend behaviour if you ask me

i would like to take this moment and say thank you.

"I've never been in a position where people look up to me."

This is such a silly statement, Jonathan is literally the person Clark looks up to the most. His bigger personality flaws clearly come from Jonathan's influence💀 (not to say he didn't also learn a lot of good traits from him -he absolutely did- but you know)

I'm really curious what Lex's (and Jonathan's) politics are actually, don't be shy writers tell me👀

SIR I NEED YOU TO STEP AWAY FROM MY WIFE IMMEDIATELY

creepy mf

"Hey 007. Nice of you to show up." "I'll start assuming that means thank you?"

giggling kicking my feet

"I can't touch him." "Well, I can."

I'VE SAID IT BEFORE AND I'LL SAY IT AGAIN, MOTHERRRR

pls his face😭

he knows he could never be as cool as her

THIS SHOT MAKES ME FERAL

my parents🥹

(listen the shit i went through to upload this last picture tho, i hit the upload limit and had to delete stuff, then i accidentally deleted the whole post for a second🤡 my whole life flashed before my eyes💀💀)

Lex talking about a guy falling in love with his best friend's wife uh oh, no thank youuuuu😬😬

He was making a good point though.

"The thing I always try to remember is, no matter how much le lays on, he never expects more than he expects from himself."

Clark really grew up didn't he😭😭

"What are you doing, you just moved back in."

from the guy who said "I'd do anything to get of Lois." at the beginning of the episode, what in the clownery🤡🤡

All men do is lie.

she's such a menace, I LOVE HER😭😭

AND HE CAN'T STAY MAD AT HER LOOK AT HIS FACEEEEE

they're secret bffs your honor😭

I LOVE THEMMM IT'S ACTUALLY SO SERIOUS

"And you didn't have to come after me but you always do. So I wanted to say thank you. You're a really good friend."

GOING INSANE ON THIS SATURDAY NIGHT

CUT IT OUT YOU ASSHOLES I'M TRYING TO STAY NORMAL UNTIL SEASON 8 QUIT EYE FUCKINGZFGDUWEOAK

well. stay normal challenge failed again but that's exactly how i thought this would go, sooo

Question for the people: should i even tag Lex in posts like this? I don't think twice about tagging characters like Jonathan because I don't expect fans to look through his tag for him specifically, but i know people do it with Lex and I feel bad at the thought of them having to scroll through me losing my mind over Clois with a few Lex mentions in between. Lex fans lemme know