#she may not be perfect but I truly think she is my horse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1117feverlessdreams · 3 months ago

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PAIRING: OnlineSeonghwa! x CollegeFemReader!

🐰📍SUMMARY: We all get pent up in sexual stress time and time again, and you’re no different. The measures you resort to however may be unusual. You decide to take your issue to the internet and masturbate with a stranger online. A stranger you haven’t met yet.

🐰📍WARNINGS: masturbating obvi, p in v penetration, sadism, cursing, fingering, code names, safe word, reader gets called bunny and darling, and during the deed, slut.

🐰📍WORD COUNT: 8.2k

🐰📍A/N: This story is literally a years work in progress, and by that I mean it’s been sitting in the drafts a quarter of the way done. I don’t know where this was headed a year ago, but these things may happen for a reason…

If you’re being honest…

you have been overly horny, and out of your mind lately!

In the midst of a history essay that is due very soon, you ignorantly minimize the web tab to look for ��free internet accessed relief.’

It was the period of your ovulating phase, so your hormones were shot up so high that you’d do anything to deescalate the throbbing pain between your legs.

It’s only been an half hour of working, and your rolling desktop chair’s leather began to feel gummy underneath your sweltered thighs.

The whole concept of piling on homework before finals week is something you could never comprehend with professors. Not only did it provide you a heavy workload, but them as well, and you’re not their only student.

You wish your roommate was here to tough things out with you. But she had told you on a consistent basis for the past month about this business presenting competition she’s in. She had religiously met up with her group everyday to perfect each element in their project, and deservingly made it to finals.

As this would be her last night before the final presentation against other students from other states in your country, she decided it would be best for the team to spend the night together.

Even though it didn’t comfort you in your solidarity-your body is grateful for her decision.

‘Maybe a YouTube boyfriend audio would do the trick.’ a recurring thought voiced inside your head. A soothing, deep, and attractive voice to guide you while he instructs to touch yourself when he wanted, and in the way he wanted.

A multitude of many minutes pass with your hand dove deep into your underwear, and onto your mound. You recognize your frustration only began to build as none of the videos you played online truly turned you on.

In fact you found it better when you turned the video off, and went at it yourself in the eerie silence of your apartment. Nevertheless, the awkward silence just make you feel more…awkward.

‘Maybe a video of a guy masturbating on any random porn site could help?’ I just have to find the right size, someone who’s my type, a pretty enough looking dick, and most importantly…a guy who moans melodiously through my headset.

You were beginning to think you were being picky when you couldn’t find a single video through twenty three pages. Although, you did manage to find your perfect guy at one point through it all-

You were wet and nearing the very edge, until you heard his climax- the sounds of what you heard to echo a dying horse.

Your persistent inability to relieve yourself made you think going to bed high and dry was a reasonable option. You just hoped the throbbing sensation would be gone when morning came.

It was plenty enough that you were overwhelmed and exhausted by all the work that’s consuming you, and you didn’t want to exert more energy in your poor findings.

You backslide in your chair from your pc setup, analyzing the screen and eye boggling through all the oddly named titles in a random porn site. The longer you looked the more you grew disgusted at the bothering mass of female degradation, and vulgar images of the most kinkiest kinks.

It’s something you’re used to when you visit these sites, and you hate it…yet you keep coming back.

You push your mouse toward the red x in painful shame to finish the last page of your essay off. It was simply a conclusion of what you said in previous pages.

There is apathy in the way you take your time dragging the cursor to the right corner. Just as your nearing its edge, a box grows in a highlighted beam. Like a miraculous messenger that greets you before you give up on your last hope.

It was ad feature on the website that you hadn't exactly explored yet. The ad banner read: ‘Click here to meet sexy hot masturbating adults near you!’ 18+ flashes on the side of the words with neon LED lights, and in GIF media, a man and woman on webcam rubbing themselves off with gaping mouths and wide eyes.

It would be something you would’ve previously consider if it weren’t for the fact that the strangers were near you. The local area was your college campus, a second home, and recognizing familiar faces is something you wouldn’t be able to come back from.

You’ve clicked it before just out of pure curiosity, and the link sent you to the site as promised, but the downfall for you was the requirement to make an account.

The old you from an half hour ago would’ve click the left arrow in the upper left corner and keep searching in disparity. Yet the you now is in deep contemplation, shivering at the slick beneath you on your gaming chair.

You had been grinding back and forth, and even rolling your hips for a deeper arousal. The sensation made it easy to direct your self to the the sign up page and create a profile for user StrawberryBunny1024.

Luckily for you, you’d been given the option of how close the strangers could be. It was a fairly broad spectrum you personally selected from surrounding states and regions. You’d imagine it’d be anyone’s nightmare to match with a former classmate.

With one disadvantage displaced you were thrilled to match with someone who’d shared some fiery electric orgasms with you tonight.

That was until you realized…you actually are required to turn your camera on.

You look at the screen mocking your distraught state with a, “video on please!” In honesty, you aren’t the camera shy type. However what would be captured frightened you…your bare body in all its entirety. In addition to your flustered face.

It’s the internet after all, and digital footprint is a real thing. You wouldn’t want to sabotage your chances of reaching graduation in your senior year.

Besides that point, you turned your camera on because it wouldn’t let you forth without it. A green dotted oval scans your face and a check mark approves of your identity.

Once you are let in, boxes with summarized profiles flash in your face, and a randomized match is made with someone in your selected areas. You’re quick to put on a sexy pink kitsune mask you sported in with your friends on Halloween last year.

Several minutes pass by and you already been put through the wringer. It was either you got skipped, or the guys you matched with were so forceful, and explicitly demanded you to show your pussy right then and there.

There is, once again, a pause in the randomizing. The video buffers to retain quality, but then it fully loads. The audio pitches in right after you scramble to hide further beside your chair. You find that to be the best strategy to elevate suspense. That way you could analyze the person in secret to find out what if you like them, and then you’d reveal yourself.

To your utter disbelief, the most etheral-magical- androgynous, gorgeous, princely being you’ve seen in your many days of living gave your knees a reason to not ache anymore. The prized guy to your desire’s name was…marsskywalker8.

“Hello darling, why are you hiding from me?” A masculine and soothing voice inquires, “I can’t get off to a gaming chair.” He smiles as he finds you peeking on the ground. There was nothing better in this world than a good looking man with a nice set of teeth. “I would do that in my own privacy if that was the case.”

You peer in closer with both eyes, fascinated by the way he just sits there with his face zoomed in, dapper in a black tank top-pleasantly relaxed-seated back fully in his seat-smiling as he notices your hesitation.

“Sorry... this is my first time. I never clicked on one of those…”, your voice drops in volume when you think of the right term to call this online masturbating FaceTime. “Ad thingies.”

“Ah, I see.” He smirks at the innocent nickname you've given your- ‘cyber interaction’.

He falls slightly forward to laugh playfully in a moment of silence which tears you in two. The blissful sound only made you want to cower more and hide. When he rises up again he combs his curtain bangs through his fingers, and what remains is a smile that never fell.

Suddenly a mic is brought down from his right side of the screen. In which his slender fingers engulf so tenderly. “Well…because you are new to this-the first thing you’d do is to show that you are actually human by placing yourself in the camera frame.”

Incidentally, you wave your finger up and center in the cameras view out of annoyance. You yank it down and became frightsome until you realized you’ve proved that you are in fact real, and human. “I know that! I just- it’s weird staring at myself doing…that.”

“Who says you have to put your face in the camera darling? All you have to do is drag your video to the side so you can’t see.” A lower grade of his voice in octave with the mic accessory sprinkled tingles down your spine. “Just be sure to point it down to your pussy. That’s all I need to get off.”

“O-okay.” You place the pad of your thumb over the camera, and rise above the rolling chair slowly. “I’m getting in frame now.” You continue covering the camera while you point it down to your soiled underwear.

He leans into his mic set up. “I’m sorry.” he chuckles, smoothing his hand over his face so he doesn’t smile. The man holds his face in his hand, purely amused about the whole situation. “Where are my manners? My alias name is Mars. Do you have a name you like to be called-Mrs.StrawberryBunny?”

“Yes…I do.” You look between the miffy doll by your desktop and strawberry themed set up you’ve decorated. “Bunny will work just fine.”

“Sounds perfect Bunny. It’s suits you.”

As does mars for you, because you look so otherworldly.

As you intake a deep breath, the pad of your thumb peels off the camera lens. Mars irises darken, and his eyelids lower with lust. “Are you ready for me Bunny?”

“Yes. I am now.”

He wets his plump lips, pulling out his frame to be larger and revealing his skin tight black boxers. “Just watch what I do, and listen to what I say. Mars is gonna help you cum Bunny, is that okay?”

“Yes, it’s okay Mars. I’m ready.”

You began to think submission is something Mars is into as he smirks in delight. “She likes what she sees. Does she have a name?”

“My name, again? it’s-

“No, her. Your friend covered in pink silk.”

Your body heats up when you realize he’s referring to your vagina. “I-I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Awe…what a shame. I have a friend here named Saber that’s very excited to meet her. If she’s willing to introduce herself of course.”

“Yes of course, um, I just came up with a badge it’s…” you look upon the mask you held to your face previously. “Kitsune.”

“Like the sly majestic japanese fox?”, he says intrigued. You nod slowly, regretting your top-of-the-dome thinking. “Oh my… she’s gorgeous.” He leans back and nibbles on his finger between his pretty teeth. Even more so, he gives you a nice view of his semi hard cock.

“I think Saber here thinks so too. Perhaps they should get aquatinted with one another? What do you say Bunny? Would you like to meet him as well?”

“Yes…I would love to.” Your eagerness makes Mars-or rather Saber twitch in his boxers, hardening his erection.

Mars lightly gestures the in between of his thighs. “As usual, he’s a very stand up guy.” An accidental burst of giggles come out of you mouth, and causes your visible lower half to shake. “How charming…Bunny has a sense of humor?”

“Of course I do. I told you, I’m not a robot.” You look at the screen as you wait for a response, but he just continues his mischievous smirking.

“Ice breakers help past the awkward phases. As do play dates. Let’s play with one another Bunny.”

Your breathing grows heavy in anticipation, willing to put keen effort to get what you needed. You clear your throat, preparing it to communicate in a seductive, sex-ridden voice. “What would you like to play Mars?”

“I think it’s a game we all know very well. The one you and I play with our friends here when it’s just you and them. Are you familiar Bunny?”

“…” You nod your head until you realize he can’t see your upper half at all. A thumbs up is what you provide for affirmation.

“I thought so.”

“I’d like to add a twist with Simon says. But it will be Mars says of course, and Bunny says. Does that sound fun darling?”

“Indeed it does. Would you like to do the honors of going first?”

His smile stretches and he tilts his head, chuckling in amusement. “Well of course. I have yet to teach you how it’s done after all.” He grabs his microphone from the right side again. “Mars says, rub your hands up and down your inner thighs.”

In the direct following of his command, you trace your hands up and down, breathing heavily from the small stimulation as you gain close to your heat.

“Good girl. Now, it’s your turn, and you can’t stop what you’re doing until it is your turn again, and I give you different directions. Understood?”

“Yes mars.” Your voice nearly whimpers in the end. It’s so strange how being told to touch yourself feels different than touching yourself at will. “Bunny says… lean back…lift your shirt…and touch all over your torso.”

He of course is best at his own game. Following your command without a world of trouble. His face remains neutral.

“Nicely done Bunny, I see you understand the rules of the game.”

He leans over on his desk, his lips brushing over the head of the microphone. “Mars says…set the crotch of your panties to the side, and rub onto Kitsune’s outer lips.”

You’re relieved to not torture yourself anymore, but now you were revealing a more intimate part of yourself full on. You began to rub softly, and even so it still makes you quiver. You had to get him back.

“Bunny says…massage into Sabers sack, and only through your underwear.”

He does so and throws his head back softly as it lands on a cushion. “How cruel of you Bunny.” He tilts his head back at the camera, and wet strands of dark hair falls over his face. “Mars says rub onto your clit… and do it quickly.”

Your hips buck up in the air from the instant contact. “F-fuck.” You muttered. But you keep your sportsmanship in tact. Obeying the rules of the game. “B-bunny says…bunny says….”

“What does Bunny say darling?” His voice becomes deeper and torturous. Hauling you in further into pleasure.

“Bunny says to reach inside of your underwear…touch onto Saber’s head…a-and rub your thumb up and down the middle. Quickly!”

A grunt sounds out as soon as he began to put his ministrations to action. There’s nothing but a mix of moans, whimpers, and groans between the both of you.

“Ungggh…Bunny, darling I-“

You flutter your eyes open and whine when your legs began to quake, nearing the long awaited ending. “Yes, Mars?”

“Does your friend have any toys you like to share together?”

“You mean like…augh…my dildo?”

“Yes. That’s perfect bunny. Mars says go get your dildo, and wait for my next command.”

“Fuck, Mars please. I need to cum.”

“You will darling I promise, I’m close too. Just do I say, and I’ll get you there.”

“Let me just cover the camera first.” He nods in approval painfully continuing your cruel command. You press your thumb over the lens and lean over to toss your thrown oversized tee onto the camera.

You rummage through the shoe box under your bed, flinging out your clear toy dildo.

You sit back down in your chair unto the sweat that has gone cold, but it soon warmed up again with what was pouring from you now. Mars tucked his lips releasing them from time to time and pant short breaths of air.“I’m back Mars…are you alright?”

“Yes but, just… please! He beckons with a weakening voice. “Do your Simon says.”

“Oh right, Sorry! Bunny says you can take a rest.”

He throws his hand in the air, twitching from an approaching orgasm. “Mars says we can take a rest from this game as well. There’s something else I want to try with you darling.” He turns his chair to face front again, making unmoving eye contact.

“With this being your first time, I’m guessing you got so sexually frustrated that you resorted to this as a last choice…and you want to cum so badly right now right?”

“I’ve tried everything mars, and nothing I did made me as wet as I am now. Thanks to you.”

“I wouldn’t thank me just yet. There’s plenty more to come.” He gives you a small smile before moving out of frame. A few seconds later he comes back with a pocket pussy in hand.

“The prices I would pay just to feel you right now.” He grabs a bottle of lube which was growing sticky in his pre-cum with every touch. “Hold that for just a minute darling.” Mars pours the small remainder in the bottle on his cockhead. He hitches his breath as it twitches from the cool contact.

You can only watch there stunned, sitting there, hand limp in carrying the clear dildo.

“We can see each other right? But there’s limitations on what we can feel.” Mars rubs his hand over himself thouroughly from the base, then the shaft, and to the tip. He even treated you a bit, adding the gloss to his lower abdomen. “So let’s just pretend hmm? Your soaking wet pussy, and my long hard dick.”

He begins to hover the pocket pussy over his cock, and you do the same with your dildo. You had a natural lube good enough that sticky webs formed between your fingers.

You use some of it to cover the dildo, providing yourself as much slip as possible. “You are so hard hwa, I don’t think you can bear it any longer, just fuck me.”

“Fuck, you’re such a slut Bunny. Talking to me like you’re in control.” He hovers the pocket pussy over himself closer, waiting for your cue.

“Push my cock all the way in, and put that pussy juice to good use for me darling, I know you can take it.”

You push it in with no time wasted, and your toes curl within every hilt. It slipped so deep you felt it nearly bypass your cervix. “You’re so deep, and you feel so good.” A long drop of your cream spills from your hole to the underside of the dildo.

Mars’s adam apple bobs hardly as he watches it cascades down on the sides, coming to a full shiver when it hits your floor. “Mars?” He tilts his head up and smiles when he sees you obediently trying to keep the dildo inside you as it began to lose friction against your slick.

“Yes darling I’m here, go on, fuck on your dildo like good little slut.” He begins to play pump his his toy halfway down his girth, twisting it in a 180 degree motion and back.

As soon as you began to follow, you fall apart easily. Whining and crying for your dear life. “More. Call me more names Mars, I love it. I love being your good little slut.”

“Who knew you had a thing for being degraded from how shyly you spoke when I tried to get you into a camera. Now look at you, crying over dick as you beg to be called a slur. What a dumb little toy you are.” he grunts.

You take the pleasure from that as an opportunity to twist the tip of the dildo into your hole, shuddering as it grazes over your sweet spot. “Please keep talking, I’m so close hwa!”

“Fuck your naughty. Let me shut you up. Go faster darling- all I want to hear is you cry for mercy.”

He begins to speed up his fist, tip to base. He tries to maintain contact with you to elevate your high, but it looks like he’s fighting sleep from how often his eyes roll in the back of his head from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Ah fuck, fuck fuck. I can’t- hwa, it’s too fast, I can’t keep up.”

Mars laughs loudly without hesitation-right in your face. “Oh shut up, you whore. You could keep up with your dirty talk. Don’t act like you didn’t do this to yourself dear. Now, I want you to go even faster.”

“Yes sir, m’sorry sir.” You proceed to go even faster, squirming and squinting in your chair as you resist the urge to pull out from the too good feeling of overstimulation.

Mars is on the other side of the camera breaking out heaves of sweat from his head to the curved v lines on his hips. He finally submits to closing his eyes and smiles widely like he’s passing into the next promised paradise of life.

“Wait, oh Mars-fuck!” The camera heightens from you slipping in the chair, then the tip of your toe kicks it further upward.

You had no clue however that your entire body was in frame. Your webcam wasn’t even in your view. With your eyes cloudy from tears and your back arched, you were more focused into making this experience worth your time.

“Holy fuck, you’re gorgeous. Why would you try to hide such a blessing from me?”

You thought in that moment he was praising the beauty of your pussy in which has become well acquainted with, and so you just plead your case. “M’sorry, I’m so sorry Mars.”

He whines with a small shriek, faltering in his ministrations of taking himself all the way. He shivers everytime he takes glances at your adoring features in which you still have no clue are unconcealed.

“Fuck, you’re getting wetter with every thrust darling. Let’s finish this off together and go all the way. My obedient little slut deserves it anyhow.”

He grins wickedly as he watches you plunge the dildo in you without any wasted time.

“Are you fucking close baby? Please tell me you are, because I can’t hold it for another fucking second!”

“Yes Mars I’m- I’m so, aughhh!” You release the cum covered dildo from your heat and fall backwards-limp in your chair. You’d allow yourself to rest as you were still shaking in aftershock.

Mars cums spurts like a water gun onto the meat of thighs. If you weren’t so high right now, you’d see the tear drop that could be mistaken as sweat, but really, that’s how much you’d affected him.

A unexpected knock on the door causes Mars to stumble in his chair, immediately turning off his video and throwing everything into a safe space. “Give me just a minute!”

“Mars!?” You breath out, dropping the dildo in hand to click out of the live chat. ‘Your call with marsskywalker8 was ended.’

…

‘Of course’, you thought. You’re not sure what you were expecting from a site where people use each other to get off. Who in their right mind would have casual conversation after cumming online with a stranger?

You hit x and shut your desktop down to clean yourself in shame. As you got up your ass stuck up the seat from your sticky orgasm, the best you ever had- which is why it’s a shame things ended so abruptly.

With the random select of strangers in your country, it probably take a billion masturbation sessions, to reach him again. Not that you would want to do it again with anyone else though.

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THAT VERY NEXT MORNING…

“Good Afternoon, sleepyhead! Wakey wakey!”

Your eyes flicker open rapidly when you hear your roommate's familiar voice. You click the power button on the side of your phone and it’s 2PM. A flash memory record of Mars and your homework creeps in your head. Your homework that you think you submitted with a conclusion.

“Hmm?” You say groggily, looking tiredly disgusted at the slob stain wetted on your sheets.

“Look at me, straight one.” Your roommate says while snapping.

“Why is it that you make fun of me in my sexuality as the gay one?” When you throw your cover off and sit up on the ledge, your eyes dart toward a golden trophy she places on your lap. “You fucking got 1st place?”

“This bitch and her incredible team got first place! Whoop whoop!” Your roommate prances around your dorm doing the gagnam style of all dances in victory.

You cover your mouth in surprise from her ridiculous bust-a-move, but also from the relieving news. “Oh my god congratulations Dixie. I told you, sometimes being stress gets you blessed.”

She smiles widely and jumps on your bed to cuddle you in a comforting hug.“You’ve been so supportive honestly, even while I was a deadbeat roommate.”

“Oh please, you had your reasons. You caught up on finals?”

“One more this week and I’m through, statistics.”

“Hmm remind me to retake that class in our next and final semester.”

“Fucking A-men….Oh that reminds me!” In excitement she pulls apart from you and gets on her knees to grasp your hands. “The team and I are going out for dinner later to celebrate, and I wanted to bring you with me…as a plus one.

You groan heavily, drained from the thought of going out. “Dixieeeeee. You know my social skills are at an all time low right now.”

“Nora will be there.” She looks at your slight smile but you don’t fully give in. “Food will be there?”

“You and Nora…” you say lowly. “will be the cuntiess business woman of all time. You both know how to plead your case with someone, and always win.”

“Fuck yes!” She gets on her feet quickly to give your forehead a kiss. “I love you girlie!”, she squeals.

“Please stop, that’s so out of character!”

Later in the day you both dress casual for the occasion. Dixie picks up her girlfriend Nora in the way who gives you a French greeting in the car, and right after, her and Dixie move into a French kiss.

You loved their love. You felt like a child riding in the backseat, admiring the way your parents love another, and wish for the same.

On the way to the restaurant you were informed of the two males that complete their business team. You were very eager to meet them. You were eager to meet anyone who tolerated Dixie.

“Okay this is the place. Hongjoong and Seongwha are waiting at the table inside.” Dixie says to you, smiling to ease your nervousness.

When you walk in you immediately feel the calm, yet bustling excitement of the restaurant. For the most part the people that are seated are a gathering of friends-celebrating or hanging out.

You were mindfully following Dixie and Nora as she directed you to the table, and that’s when you heard her say, “Wassup business team #1 champions!”

A small uproar of cheers and claps sound throughout the group. It hardly brought little to no disturbance to the other guests.

“I hope you guys don’t mind but I brought an extra out tonight. This is my roommate and the best goddamn friend I could ever ask for, Y/n.”

Your heart beat grows faster as you look at the men you’ll be accompanying this evening. There was Hongjoong and….FUCKING Mars?

Or as your friend like to call him, ‘Seonghwa’.

“Nice to meet you both.”

Hongjoong says the same and formally introduced himself. Seonghwa nods at him casually, and then smirks over to you.

“We’ve heard a lot about you.” He finally spoke. “I’m glad we have the chance to finally meet one another.” You nod and Blink thrice at Dixie, giving her your friendly signal. Code red.

“Hey-uh, we’re gonna use the ladies room real fast. It was a long ride. We’ll catch up with you guys in a few!”

Dixie grabs your arm and arm as Nora was on the other side. As a team they cornered you on a sink from both sides.

“Just tell me now” Dixie complained. “Do you wanna fuck him?”

“Dixie!” Nora lightly slaps her on the wrist as they were still united arm in arm. “Damn, why do you have to be so forward?”

“Well?” Dixie relentlessly imposes.

“It’s not like that! I was just looking at Seongwha because he was looking at me!”

Dixie’s brow raises up in amusement and he squints her berating eyes right into your face. “Who said anything about Seongwha?”

You look to her partner in arms, your other best friend. Who also happened to be the scapegoat to Dixie’s interrogations. “Noraaaaa?” you whined.

She looks to Dixie and shrugs her shoulders. “It’s a reasonable question that should be given a reasonable answer.”

You deflate your cheeks with a defeated breath, scoffing with a shattered heart of betrayal. “I saw the look in your eyes before you introduced me. I knew you were plotting something.”

“Well then let me just get straight to it then”, Dixie admits. “Why are you giving him the fuck me eyes?”

“Fuck you Dixie, stop it.”

“We could make it happen…just saying.”

“You guys. You point to them both with a lowered peace sign. Can help me. You point to yourself. Sway a- male species?”

Dixie scoffs and lightly pushes your shoulder upheld by your hand pressing into the sink. “I wasn’t gay all my goddamn life d-lover.”

“I’m pansexual, you know that.” Nora added.

“I do have a few cards up my sleeve still…never forget it.”

“Fine. I have the fuck me eyes,” you mutter with a small grunt. I would like your guys help.”

“What was that? I’m sorry…”

You flip up your middle finger. “Dickhead Dixie.” You run off right after, knowing she was more of a heavy weight champ than you were.

“Nuh uh! Come here, you little shit.” You feel a strong hug from bundle you from behind, and another pair of arms hugging you both. “We got you. Don’t worry.”

…

“Alright sorry fellas, the scissoring convention is over now”, Dixie privately announces, pulling out a chair for Nora.

“How the hell did you manage to maintain your professionalism during that presentation again?” Hongjoong asks, truly wondering in his genuine curiosity.

“Well it’s just like before I came out the closet. Fake it till you make it man.”

“Alright what are we having for dinner?”, Seongwha intercepted, clearly unamused. “The chicken parm sounds appetizing.”

“Yeah that and the garlic cheesy bread.”, you unknowingly added.

“Mmmm okay, we’re being bombarded by the Italians.” Dixie suddenly joked. She wouldn’t allow a moment of uncomfortable silence for you to bear, and that’s why she was your best friend.

“What will you be having Nora dear?” Dixie throws her arm casually around her girlfriend, giving the side of her temple a kiss as they go over the menu.

“I’m going with…the chicken tenders and fries basket.”

“Sounds great”, Dixie agreed. “Simplicity is best.”

“Looks like we’re being bombarded by sticky finger tablet kids now.”, you snickered in retort.

“Cocomelon! Seongwha chirped followed by the xylophone instrumental played after in the intro.

“You’ve got that down to a T, Mr.Park.” Dixie jived with a grin.

“You know Seonghwa likes to be a baby with legos and animal crossing in his free time.” Hongjoong added in.

Seongwha’s jaw shifted sides. You cover a smile under your hand, You didn’t say anything but you found it adorable. Every bad boy has a soft side.“Can a baby throw a baby sized man’s laptop overboard in the river?”

“Yeah, okay.” Hongjoong scoffs, seeming just a little visibly upset. “Like you can even throw that far.” Hongjoong folds in his arms at his sides, flailing his arms to intimate Seongwha’s throwing skills.

Seongwha’s stirring up his next comeback and ready to pounce, well, until Dixie had her words to share.

“Boys, boys, settle down. Save some testerone for the gays hmm?”

“Next thing you know they’ll be having a dick sword fight on the table.” Nora taunted, speaking loud enough for the two men to hear.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa groan and end their bantering right then and there. Nora and Dixie fist bump, you hear a “works every time” in whispers.

“Waiter, over here please!”, Hongjoong calls aloud.

…

You guys get some dessert after more gay jokes, poking fun at Seonghwa, and Dixie throwing random shots of spotlight on you so you can get familiar.

Little did you tell her how familiar you were already. Seonghwa had kept his mouth shut, he believed it was a matter you talk about some other time, or maybe never at all again.

As soon as their raspberry cheesecake cake arrives for dessert, Nora and Dixie head out for the night.

“It’s been a pleasure dude and dudettes, but me and this fine babe are heading to her place for the night.” A padded smack from Dixie causes Nora to jolt forward. She maintains her composure, unlike Dixie, she doesn’t like public attention.

“Let’s hang out like this more often, all together. Tonight was fun guys, see ya.” Nora chirped.

The two went to leave, playing on an act to their mischievous plan.

“Oh, uh Seongwha!” Dixie sputtered. “You mind taking Y/n back home- or your place is cool too. Just please make sure she safe, alright?”

“Yeah, of course. She’ll be safe with me whatever she decides. For the first time that night he initiates eye contact. “If that’s fine with you too…”

“Mhmm, yeah, that’s fine.” You nod throughout each word.

“Okay then, it’s settled! Hasta luego mi amigos, and buena noches!”

“That’ll be it for me too!” Hongjoong says while throwing on his jacket. “I think I’ll go home and play with some beats to wind down for the night. Nice to meet you again y/n.” He gives you a small small wave and pushes in his chair. “I hope to see you sometime soon.”

“Later, baby.” He sneaks in, balling his fist and wiping his eyes at Seongwha.

Seonghwa scoffs as he judges his friends childish behavior. “Enjoy making those beats tonight, it’ll be the last track you ever hear. Man baby.”

When you’re alone, you and Seongwha pick at your dessert in silence. His slice of strawberry shortcake, and your square of tiramisu.

“You wanna head out now too?”, he firstly speaks.

You look to him through your lashes, pausing with a piece of dessert on your fork. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“My place is cool?”

“Yeah, um, sounds cool.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

LATER ON THAT NIGHT…

Thankfully Seonghwa’s place was reachable in walking distance. You had plentiful ideas in mind, but not a single plan that seemed successful.

“You know…” Seongwha mutters. “Dixie talks about you a lot. If I hadn’t known Nora, I’d think you were her girlfriend.”

You cackled at the thought, and even if you found that noise a bit embarrassing, Seonghwa had been all ears. “In what universe? She pokes fun at me for being straight all the damn time. Me and Nora though…we’d have a better chance.”

“Oh? Wouldn’t Dixie be enthused to hear that shit.” You give him a slight elbow jab, leaning into his part of the sidewalk. “The both of you are like her diamond in a rock. I’d imagine she’d hate choosing between you two.”

“It’ll never happen, she doesn’t have to worry. She’s like that for Nora and I too, you know?” Seongwha actively listens with a hum. “Say um…”your voice trembles, “do you live on campus?”

“No I don’t actually. I attend the university here, but they don’t offer as good of business courses as they do on your guys campus. So I signed up for dual enrollment, and that’s why I was in the competition.”

“So you’re a business major too huh? I swear it’s like you guys are some sort of zodiac sign or something. “You all behave...” you pretend to think as you see Seongwha avert his powerful gaze towards you. “Strangely.” You say slowly.

“Wow…that kinda hurts to hear. He sulks, holding his hand where his heart is. You haven’t even met me until today, and now I’m strange?”

Your smile falls and you blink away because you began to feel bad. (In both ways) “Don’t take it too hard, I love a good sense of humor. It breaks the ice when talking to someone new.”

Holy fuck you sounded just like him from the other night. And you didn’t even realize it until it slipped your mouth.

“Dixie’s got it worse than you, so I’ll live,” he chucked. What are you majoring in anyhow?”

“Gen Arts.” You say sheepishly, holding back a chuckle of your own.

“Wait, wait, wait. You give me shit for being a business major but your in general arts? Do you know how moody you guys are!”

“Oh screw you! But no, seriously, that’s like a complete contrast from a business major. We actually have empathy for others.”

“Okay…you know what?”

“Mhm?”

“You’ve might’ve got me on that one! But I for one, am not like all the others.”

You push him into the street without the oncoming traffic, a tired groan spills from your mouth. You walk ahead of him, smiling as you swing your arms.

“Okay see, now you and Dixie are on the same level!”

…

Once you enter Seonghwa’s apartment, you fall to silence after all the heavy-felt chitter chatter.

Seongwha puts up his coat, takes off his shoes, and wanders off as he keeps talking about a new subject with upmost excitement.

You’re frozen and too entranced in the exact detail of his pc set up across the room. The microphone on the right side, along with many cute action figures of legos and animal crossing figures on the wall. Hongjoong wasn’t joking about that part after all.

“Hey y/n…you okay?!” Seonghwa yells from another part of the apartment in concern.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” You slowly inch closer to his desktop, smoothing your hands on the top of the mic where his soft lips purred the most filthiest words.

“Oh. Did you hear what I said?”

“No uh, sorry I was checking out your collection. Wha’cha say again?”

You hear rummaging and stumble just when you thought Seonghwa was close by. “Did you want anything to drink? A water maybe?”

“Nah I’m stuffed. Thanks though.” You slowly slip your fingers off one by one. You were afraid even the slightest move could trigger your clumsiness , and have to face Seonghwa running in here to save his precious belongings.

“Could you come here real fast? I need your help with something!”

“Uh yeah? ‘m comin.”

You search in every room until you found him which didn’t take long. Of all places you’d thought he be the bedroom would be the last you would want .“Hey…what’s up?”

“Hey”, he says with a blatant tone. His face looked even more blatant which made you feel uneasy. “I know this might sound crazy but, I think we have some unfinished business."

“That does sound crazy. I’ll definitely need some elaboration.”

Could it be?

“Of course, I understand. Let me start by saying that I've never stopped thinking about you since we last spoke."

No, it couldn’t be.

“I’m sorry. what the hell are we talking about again? We just met a few hours ago. Like tonight.”

"Okay!” Seonghwa exclaims, cranking out his neck to prepare for what he was going to say, and carefully. “I guess we need a recap-we first met online, exchanged more than a few words. We introduced our crotches, played games, and oh-we came so hard, and then I got really busy, and never followed up.”

But it could be…

“How the fuck did you know it was me?” You cower in a panic. “I never even showed you my fucking face.” You fall to your knees and breathes deeply in your hands. You truly thought you were being careful.

Being the observant person he is, Seonghwa senses your sudden panic, reacting swiftly by getting down on one knee so that he is face-to-face with you. “Well, there's no need to panic. Darling…don't worry. I could just tell.”

You seperate your fingers and take a good look at Seonghwa’s detail features. He takes it as an opportunity to look in between to what he though was the most captivating eyes in the universe.

“Well how easy for you to say. I had video sex with my friends classmate, and then ate dinner with him knowing he’s the guy I had video sex with. W-what did you mean you could tell?”

His smile widens as he sees you peeking further at him. He leans in a little closer, maintaining eye contact. "Well, first off, I think it's quite an intriguing coincidence, and let me assure you that I won't tell anyone about our little secret, okay?" He waits until your small nod before continuing.

"As for how I knew it was you. I saw your face when the camera got kicked up by your legs. I know it’s a major dick move but, I couldn’t- I didn’t want to tell you. I wanted to go all the way with you. You were just too fucking beautiful to be dispensed out of my memory forever.”

You slowly uncover your face and your eyesight immediately goes to his lips. “Fucking hell.” Shit, I knew it was too risky.” You look at his eyes again, which are now on your lips. “I can’t believe I’m saying this fucking bullshit but I’m glad it was you.”

Seonghwa’s eyes light up and he makes the hesitant move of putting his palms on your redden cheeks. He leans in even closer, his gaze filled with warmth, and understanding. "You know what?"

“Yeah…?” He grins mischievously, before leaning in slowly, giving you ample time to pull back if you wanted to. "I'm glad it was me too. And you know what else? I think we should make up for lost time."

“You mean-you mean you wanna-

“Yeah, I wanna. I want to have sex with you. I want to feel you completely, and for real this time.”

“You promise to treat me like a good little slut?”, you whisper, gaining proximity to his lips like they were a love spell.

“Only if you behave like one.”

You move to smash your lips shirt his in a sloppy tongue kiss. Although touch was a firsthand experience, your feelings weren’t. He taps your thighs, urging you to wrap your arms around what you found to be a very slender waistline.

He was caught off guard by the sudden kiss, but he quickly adapts, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you back with enthusiasm. As the two of you pull apart, he smiles against your lips, gently the apples of your cheeks. "Okay my good little slut”, he murmurs.

Seonghwa lifts you both up on his feet and tosses you on the bed. He grabs onto the hem of your boyfriend fitted jeans, unfastening them and taking them swift off your body.

“It’s been a while since I checked on kitsune hm?” He takes off your jeans and undergarments swiftly. “As gorgeous as she was before. Looks like I didn’t get catfished.”

You found it amusing, snickering under his chest. ‘So much for being real and human,’ you thought.“How’s Saber? Standing up like usual?” You raise your bare feet, smoothing it over the tightness in his jeans.

He tsk, taking your wrist in his hold and throwing your arm to the side. “Now we’re not off to a good start now are we? I really wanted to take it easy with you, but it seems like you like to do things the hard way.” He leans into your ear and teasingly takes a nibble. “What’s your safe word?”, he whispers.

“Strawberry,” you playfully whispered with a giggle.

Seongwha bites his lip as he nods in with a groan pulling away from your ear.

He inserts and curls his finger inside the cunt. At first it started with a few strokes, but then he full fledged fucked you on them as he pulls and pushes them in and out.

You whine loudly the pleasure, but you stay obedient, unwavering your wide open thighs from his head.

Seongwha notices your loyal submissions and gives you a mischievous grin. “There she is. The little slut I directed about a week ago.“What’s your safe word?”, he repeats.

You shake your head. You’re not ready to say it, you know it’s a trick. A test. You don’t want this to end.

“Good fucking girl.” He attaches his mouth onto your clit with his fingers now slowly dragging in the top of your walls. You feel the tip of his tongue flick your bean- causing your hips to jerk in immediate response.

As your moans grow louder his tongue swivels faster like a snake on the hunt. Accumulating all the slick ‘til the peak of your shaking orgasm.“That feel good my little tasty slut?”

“M-mhmm. It felt-fucking great.” You try to sit up but Seonghwa climbs to meet your face with his. “It would be dishonorable of me to not return the favor.”

He takes his cum covered fingers and shove them in your mouth. “Be quiet now, my sweet darling. Your debts have already been paid.” He pulls his fingers out slowly, slicking them down his torso until it reaches the cum outside his boxers.

“Shit. That’s so hot.”

“It is getting a bit warm in here hm? Maybe I should lighten up a little on the garments. Saber is in need of some air way.” Seongwha races in his pants to grab a condom in his wallet.

You watch the whole showcase of him slipping it on slowly so he wouldn’t grow tender from the simulating pain. When he’s finished, you reach to him like it was the first real piece of gold you’ve ever seen. His cockhead twitches.

“In sorry but…” he smacks away your eager hand, “kitsune gets first dibs. After all, they have yet to formally meet. So therefore Saber…Kitsune. Kitsune…he pushes your legs back aligning himself with your heat as he smiles at your genitals…Saber.”

Your toes spread from his insertion, and they close in from when he pulls back in and practice his penetrations. He was searching your face for discomfort, he wanted to take you there, and you were smiling widely giving him a positive sign that it was all okay.

He leans into you until your pelvis’s touch. He then begans thrusting at a lethal angle, killing your from the inside.

You began to feel every nerve in your thighs in legs tremble to uphold themselves in good strength. Seongwha was taking it all out of you, and it didn’t help when he separated your legs to get closer to your core.

Added ecstasy was released as he grabbed your jaw and claimed your lips for his taking. He was such a good fucking kisser. Even if you weren’t kissing back it would feel so passionate.

His hand begans to slip behind your neck and he lunges your body forward. Unknowingly doing damage to himself as you as your pussy clamps onto his dick, and your walls suction to be immovable and tightening.

“Fuck. I’m so fucked, darling. I don’t want to upset you but, I’m gonna cum, and it’s gonna be fast and hard.

“Do it hwa. Do it while you’re inside me, i’m beat there with you.”

He follows your direction like a game of Simon says. He adds the intense pleasure of massaging your overly stimulated clitoris, making it bloom in arousal.

Soon enough you came with more shakes and shivers to your nerves. So the extra movement and clamping didn’t leave Seongwha too far behind. He was whining and his arms were weak from being used and upheld for some time.

He twist his body so he fell next to you, discarding his condom into his trash as you both caught your breaths.

He rolls over and analyzes you with pure admiration, and your eyes had easily met with his because you were both thinking the same thing.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I want to take you with me, and carry you everywhere in my pocket.”

“Dual enrollment is good of you wanna take a few extra classes you might need”, you tease with a wink.

“I have a degree in sexology if you need a few credits. We also offer private lessons free of cost. Seongwha swiped his thumb on your bottom lip. “I suggest Brat Taming 101.”

Your bottom lip stretches slightly downward as you openly smile. “Would that make me a teacher’s pet if I get any specialized treatment?”

“Well you are bunny after all. What choice would I have not to?”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

A/N: Pheeewww how ya’ll feelin…it’s hot.

Thank you for reading,

Much love

xoxo

PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY ORIGINAL WORKS, reblogs are appreciated and accepted. Stealing and modifying my work or publishing out on other platforms is not.

©️1117feverlessdreams, 2024

#ateez au #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #ateez smut #atz #just girly thoughts #1117feverlessdreams #in heat #ateez fic #ateez imagines #100 notes #200 notes

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protagaster · 2 months ago

Text

Part 1 of the Warrior!Penelope Swap AU

Just a heads up, some of the vignettes in this AU will be structured around the songs in the musical, and some will be short stories detailing the events of the Odyssey (like the prequel did)

Credit to Tumblr users @vioofc and @too-much-flynnolium, for their own ideas surrounding their warrior!penelope AUs led to inspiration for mine!

(Cross-Posted on Ao3)

The Horse and the Infant

After 10 years of war, of battle and bloodshed, the Greek army has finally gained the upper hand against the Trojans.

From within her Wooden Horse, Penelope vows to do whatever it takes to end this war once and for all. Whether she is truly up to the task, the Gods will see…

Growing up in Greece children are taught to beware of Pandora’s Box: though something may appear to be enchanting on the outside, what it hides within could bring devastating consequences.

Penelope was thankful the Trojans did not heed the warnings behind this tale.

The people of Troy underestimated her and her armies, for no greater reason other than the fact they happened to be women. All of Troy assumed that Greece was in a dire state, for why else would the Greeks have to resort to sending their women to fight in their men’s stead.

While most of her comrades were offended by this notion, Penelope saw an opportunity to finally turn the tides of war in their favor.

Everything went according to plan. By pretending to sail their ships back home the Trojans assumed the Greeks to have surrendered. This left them cocky, feeling invincible, to the point they did not question the mysterious “gift” left at their gates.

They brought the beautiful wooden horse into the heart of their palace, not knowing their very own “Pandora’s Box” was about to be unleashed upon their city.

Penelope let out a deep, steady breath.

Inside that very same wooden horse her comrades sat patiently by her side, their clenched fingers fidgeting on the hilt of their weapons. The eyes of her sisters-in-arms were hungry with scorn, their red and gold armor eager to be stained with Trojan blood.

Penelope looked at each and every woman who had chosen to place their trust in her. The Queen of Ithaca’s confidence had never been higher.

The night was silent and the atmosphere calm. There would be no perfect moment rather than now.

Penelope stood. In her posture she managed to portray the grace of a Queen, the strength of a Spartan, the innate blood-lust of a warrior of Ares, and the anger of a Mother.

Her comrades, women who fought both willingly and not against their society’s views to stand by her side, who were forced to part with their futures and families over the course of 9 years, they gazed upon their Captain with only the highest of respect and admiration in their eyes.

After all, it was only with her leadership that they had all managed to survive up to this point.

All 600 of them.

Penelope held her head high, addressing her comrades. Her friends. Her sisters.

“Alright my sisters, listen closely.” She spoke to them in a hush but commanding voice. “Tonight, we make the Trojans pay.”

“These years of war have killed us slowly, but now we'll be the ones who slay!”

Penelope’s eyes dulled in the middle of her speech, her mind momentarily retreating into its most sacred place.

Home. Ithaca.

“Think of your husbands and your children!”

Many of the women grew angry, recalling how many of their spouses were now permanently maimed and broken because of the Trojans. How their children were forced to grow and mature without their mothers, all because of this damn war.

“Your families wonder where you've been! They're growing old and yet you're still here,”

Penelope couldn’t help but look at her hair, not as vibrant as it once was 9 years ago. She couldn’t allow this war to go on for another decade. Not after so much time has been lost already.

“Do what I say and you'll see them again!”

“Yes ma’am!”

The women snuck out of the wooden horse, moving with as much quiet and stealth as they were physically able. Each soldier remembered her role, of what Penelope had ordered of them.

“Aegiale will lead the charge,”

“Clytemnestra will flank the guards,”

“Helen of Sparta will let our mates through the gates to take the whole city at large,”

“Eune will shoot any ambush attack,”

“And little Glauca will stay back,”

“Eury, free Menelaus and the others,”

“Hermy, help your betrothed, kill Hector's home and brothers!”

“Yes ma’am!”

Penelope watched from the shadows, beaming with pride at the success of her army.

Her plan was coming to a monumental success. The Trojan warriors, men trained in the art of combat from the moment they could walk, were being hunted from the shadows, one by one, as if they were livestock.

Less and less guards roamed the halls, their bodies lying against each other in a hidden corner of the palace. The palace walls, once an elegant and expensive marble white, were now stained with the vibrant stains of war-red.

Troy was now vulnerable.

“Find that inner strength now, use that well of pride!” Penelope reminded her sisters. “Fight through every pain now, ask yourself inside: What do you live for? What do you try for? What do you wish for? What do you fight for?”

Every woman reminded herself of why it was she fought, their answers ranging deep within themselves.

“What do you live for? What do you try for? What do you wish for? What do you fight for?”

Penelope stared down at the helmet in her hands, unable to forget what it represented. It was specially made just for her, with a metal said to be indestructible. She remembered when it was given to her, only one day before she was forced to leave her home.

She could never forget the tearful gaze, apologetic and filled with love, of the man who gifted her this helmet.

Oh how she missed him.

“Odysseus…”

How she longed to see those intelligent eyes once again.

“Odysseus…”

She couldn’t help but recall the time those eyes beamed with pride as they fondly looked down at the very symbol of their love.

“And Telemachas…”

Her baby girl, whom she had only known for a single year. What did her baby look like now, 9 years later?

“I fight for us…”

This was for them.

“I fight for us!”

Fighting in this war, aiding her cousin, empowering her fellow woman, following the whim of the Heavens themselves. All of it was for them!

Not for Greece. Not for the Gods. Not even for her.

For them.

What do you live for?

“Odysseus.” Penelope whispered to herself.

What do you try for?

“Telemachas.” Penelope stared at her reflection from the helmet’s surface.

What do you wish for?

“I'm on my way,” Penelope placed the helmet over her head, taking hold of the very spear that started her down this path.

What do you fight for?

She was going to end this.

Now.

“Attack!”

The Greek army made themselves known by jumping out for the shadows, startling the Trojan warriors unlucky enough to be missed during their secret infiltration of the palace.

Penelope and the others wasted no time inflicting their carnage upon the once untouchable Kingdom. The Trojan warriors were startled at first, desperate to know how their indomitable palace could have been so easily infiltrated.

It did not take long for them to ready themselves, determined to keep their Kingdom from being painted with even more of that familiar war-red.

But it was all for naught.

It did not matter that the Trojan warriors were male; it did not matter that they were bigger, stronger, and more durable than their female counterparts.

For the Trojan soldiers fought to maim, whilst the Greek soldiers fought to kill.

These women recalled how they were forced to watch their husbands leave, only to return one year later with their bodies shattered and spirits broken. They recalled that feeling of loathing and helplessness, unable to even think about avenging their men until permitted by the Gods.

They remembered the shame on their husbands’ faces for not being able to protect them from fighting in their stead; remembered how their children cried, pleading for them to stay, for the younglings were unable to bear the thought of both parents being destroyed by the war.

No. Troy had every chance to end this war. Now they suffer just as Greece has, for even the Gods have sealed the kingdom’s fate.

Tonight, Troy will die.

Penelope, now inside the main court of the palace, speared the throat of one of the Trojan men attempting to slice the back of one of her women.

There was only a small army of them within that court, both Trojan and Greek alike. The majority of the Greeks fought at the gates of the palace, keeping their adversaries from storming the vicinity.

The warriors fighting by Penelope’s side, only her most trusted sisters-in-arms, worked together to keep themselves and each other alive. Using their many hours of intense training, innate battle prowess, and the blessings bestowed upon them by Ares and Artemis, the women had achieved what was previously thought to be impossible: gaining the upper hand against the Trojan men.

Bodies littered the dance floor of battle, all of them of Troy. Through Penelope’s strategy, not a single Greek had fallen.

However, as she speared and cut down her enemies, Penelope couldn’t help but notice the Trojan soldiers began fighting sporadically; as if they were desperate to keep her and her comrades from infiltrating the palace any further.

But why?

Suddenly, Penelope felt a sharp sting to the back of her head.

“Ahh!” She collapsed to her knees, rubbing her head to find some relief from the dimming pain. “Who was that?!”

Quick to recover from her bound of shock, Penelope threw herself back to her feet and gripped the hilt of her spear. She was prepared to defend herself against the Trojan foolish enough to strike her.

What her eyes fell upon, however, was not one of the large, daunting men of Troy.

It was a Peahen.

However, this was no ordinary peahen. She was not a modest brown like the rest of her peahen kin. No, this one had her feathers bursting with the familiar blue and green seen on her male equivalents.

The feathers atop her head had the appearance of a crown, her eyes glowing an eerie white and gold hue.

Somehow, against all logic, Penelope found herself more fearful of this fowl than she had ever felt against the Trojan armies.

“A vision…” A voice suddenly appeared in Peneleope’s mind.

Penelope knew instantly that the voice was coming from the Peahen. The voice was feminine, deep, and full of power. She spoke the same way Penelope would when sitting upon her throne, addressing her subjects.

“Of what is to come, cannot be outrun. Can only be dealt with right here and now…”

From that moment she knew the true identity of the Peahen.

Hera.

Queen of the Gods.

Mother of the Heavens.

“Tell me how.” Penelope asked of the divine Queen.

“I don't think you're ready...”

The Peahen was honest with the mortal Queen about her thoughts, yet continued with her declaration.

“A mission. To kill someone's son, a foe who won't run, unlike anyone you have faced before…”

The Peahen walked with grace as she spoke, silently beckoning the mortal to follow. The disguised Goddess led the Greek to a secret staircase, the very thing the Trojan were trying to hide.

Penelope instantly understood what the God-Queen was commanding of her.

“Say no more!” Penelope ran up the stairs, confidently holding her spear in anticipation. “I know that I'm ready!”

“I don't think you're ready…”

Penelope pushed the double doors at the end of the stairs open, eager for her spear-point to make contact with Trojan flesh and to finally end this war once and for all.

She would not have been surprised to see a bulking man waiting for her behind those doors. After everything she’s gone through in the past 9 years, Penelope genuinely thought herself to be immune to the kind of surprises the Gods could throw at her.

Unfortunately, the Gods never did follow the whims of the mortals they ruled over.

There was no man standing behind those doors. In fact, no one stood behind them.

There was only a cradle.

Penelope’s eyes widened. Unconsciously dropping her spear, she walked over to look inside the beautiful bassinet.

There he was. Not a cruel man filled with sin, but a babe. Innocent. Pure. Sleeping with not a worry in the world.

“It's just an infant…” Penelope couldn’t help but hold her hand out, stroking the child’s untainted cheek. “It's just a boy…”

The baby leaned into the warm hand caressing his cheek, recognizing the hand of a mother.

“What sort of imminent threat does he pose that I cannot avoid?”

The Peahen, once perched on the ledge of the window in front of the babe’s cradle, spread her wings and flew into the sky.

“This is the son of none other than Troy's very own Prince Hector!”

Clouds started to surround the flying Peahen. They wrapped around the fowl, slowly covering the beautiful bird in white mist. In seconds the Peahen disappeared, the place where she once hovered now a perfectly shaped mass of clouds formed into the appearance of a tall, beautiful, regal woman.

Commanding the clouds around her with a flick of her wrist, the woman shaped one of them into a tiny baby. The cloud-baby morphed, transforming into the figure of a large grown man.

“Know that he will grow from a boy to an avenger! One fueled with rage as you're consumed by age…“

The cloud-man brandished a cloud-sword, slicing at smaller clouds shaped into a crowd of defenseless people.

“If you don't end him now, you'll have no one left to save…”

Hera commanded some of her clouds to begin filling the room, surrounding Penelope and the cradle. She modeled the clouds into the form of a very beautiful, very comforting, very familiar man.

“You can say goodbye to-”

Penelope’s eyes widened, staring at the face of the man whose life she cherished far more than her own.

Odysseus…

This cloud-Odysseus, more detailed than any of the other cloud creations Hera had created, stared longingly at the Greek woman reeking of blood. He smiled, that oh-so familiar smile she had longed to see for the past decade.

“You can say goodbye to-”

Odysseus…

The cloud-Odysseus gazed down at the baby in the cradle. There was this look in his eyes, this desire to cherish and protect. Penelope knew this look well, for it could only be known by a fellow parent...

No!

Penelope couldn’t do this. She was a mother! Her role in life was to treasure and protect children, not discard and kill them!

“I could raise him as my own!”

“He will burn your house and throne.”

No…

No!

Penelope needed to find a way!

“Or send him far away from home!”

“He'll find you wherever you go.”

There had to be another way!

“Make sure his past is never known!”

“The gods will make him know.”

Why was Hera doing this? Why couldn’t she understand!? Penelope can’t do this!

The mortal threw herself down, bowing before Hera in a desperate final plea.

“I'd rather bleed for ya, Down on my knees for ya-”

“He's bringing you down on your knees…”

The Queen of Ithaca couldn’t hear herself, the Queen of the Gods overpowering everything within her.

“I'm begging please-”

“Oh, this is the will of the gods!”

Hera’s voice boomed. Commanding. Declaring. Inevitable.

Penelope shook her head, slowly and in disbelief. Her chest felt heavy and constricting, making every breath a difficult and pained one.

…how…

“Please don't make me do this…”

How could she be expected to do this? Something so evil, so cruel?

Something so monstrous?

“Don't make me do this…”

Penelope didn't know when she began to weep, only realizing when her tears splattered on the cold, hard ground.

She felt a hand being gently placed atop her bowed head. This hand, once commanding and brimming with devastating power, now offered an ironic sense of comfort.

From one who was also a Queen.

A Soldier.

A Wife.

A Mother.

“The blood on your hands is something you won't lose…”

The hand’s presence disappeared, along with the many clouds surrounding her person.

The cloud-Odysseus, whose eyes Penelope couldn’t bear to meet, took hold of her chin. This hand, as large and scarred as she remembered it, held her with a firm gentleness she knew was reserved only for her.

He tilted her head up, compelling her to meet his gaze. Again, Penelope recognized the look he was giving her. It was the same one he always gave her: eyes filled with a warm, comforting love.

“All you can choose is whose…”

The cloud-Odysseus faded away, still gazing upon her with those eyes until he was fully gone.

Would the real Odysseus continue to look at her that way, knowing what she was about to do?

…

Penelope waited.

…

And waited.

…

And waited.

…

Nothing.

Hera’s presence was no more.

All that was left was Penelope, blood-soaked and guilt-ridden, and the baby, still sleeping with not a worry in the world.

Penelope said nothing. She could only stare at the boy, the very symbol of innocence before it was tarnished.

Slowly, soundlessly, Penelope picked the boy up. She cradled him gently in her arms, similar to the way she held Telemachas after bringing her into the world. She wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

Then, without a word, Penelope made her way to the roof of the palace.

#epic the musical #the odyssey #swap au #warrior!penelope #penelope of ithaca #hera #odysseus x penelope #the horse and the infant #canon divergent au #canon rewrite #canon compliant #my fic

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thelastofhyde · 6 months ago

Text

a mercenary named time.

pairing. jackson!joel x fem!reader

synopsis. as joel begins to age, memories of sarah are beginning to fade. though he wants nothing more than to talk to you about his troubles, there's something standing in his way: he never told you about sarah.

warnings. this is more joel x sarah centric than joel x reader oops, hurt/comfort, ageing + difficulties that come with it, grief, mentions of death/religion/afterlife+ generally other sensitive topics, fluff, does this count as whump? (v minimum editing/proofreading)

word count. 4.9k

hyde’s input. wrote this as an attempt to distract myself from the fact i was on a plane (i hate flying). not much happens plot wise, and it just becomes me analyzing joel (in my own way) halfway through but hey, i wrote it and, though it's nowhere near perfect, i'm gonna post it!

due to the ties tlou has with zionism, here are helpful posts/links regarding the ongoing genocide in palestine. from the river to the sea. ( post, link, post )

Aging has become a threat again.

A part of him wonders if the threat ever truly left, or if it simply migrated south of his brain, chasing a warmth only leisure possesses, to make way for a survivalist winter’s cold. With the safety of walls and the sanctity of the commune, at last he’s caught on to the passing of time, the slow-crawling spider who spun its web into his skin.

During the cold, there'd only been movement. Pacing down streets divided by those who live in fear and those who brandish riot gear, and tip-toeing past fungal-faced mutations, and stumbling in a daze of pain through snow to find her. A safety distance of unmarked miles, away from that hospital, is what it took for him to finally pull over, cut the engine and exhale. Out with the panic, and the urgency, and the fear. Ellie was there, laid across the back seats, a paper gown as blue as any April sky, a cursed relic upon her sleeping form, terrorising him with images of what could’ve been, had he failed to save her too.

In the warmth, there’s tranquillity. Stretched out legs upon worn out sofas, quiet hums of forgotten tunes on rescued guitars, tangled limbs on love-stained sheets. A home, a daughter, and a you, whatever you may be. A fallen angel, a summer fairy, a ray of sun. Any form you come from, he accepts it, welcomes it. Thanks it for bringing you to him, smelling fresh as a daisy, riding up next to him on his first patrol, smiling as sweet as the honey he’d eaten with his breakfast when you asked him if he needed help reigning in his horse.

No, he’d grunted more than spoken to you. And wound up flung off its back, ten paces later. From the ground staring up, he’d watched your face appear above him. Bitten back laughter, a stretched out hand, and a question of if he wanted to swap rides, take your mare for the day.

She’s far friendlier, you’d assured him, after he let you think it was your strength that pulled him back to his feet. Takes to strangers a little easier than him, you’ll be safe.

And he’d believed it, against his own nature.

Tommy had been the one to notice, to nudge him hours later and nod his head in your direction. Real sweetheart, ain’t she? Joel’d said nothing. Shrugged his shoulders, dipped his head, sipped the whiskey out his cup. Tracked your movement across the room like a hunter stalks its prey. Or, maybe, it was more like a bee examining a flower, wondering if the pretty vibrance of your outsides carried a match to your insides, if the taste of your soft petals was a great enough sweetness to satisfy a craving he’d long foregone.

Four months of observing later, spring came and he stung.

Since then, you’ve been his, whatever that may mean anymore.

He’d already been yours.

And yet he finds himself unable to tell you of his recent trouble, the emerging signs of his age that the needle of time has begun to stitch into his seams.

The greys that curl upon his head grow more frequent. Blink, and they seem to double. His skin stretches differently than before, at times it feels he wears it more than owns it. There’s aches, and pains, and cracks from his joints, where before there’d been numbness and tiredness. A back that refuses to straighten like it used to, no matter how hard he stretches under the fleeting warm drops of his morning shower.

A guilty conscience whispers in a voice much like Tess’, a memory of her telling him ageing means he’s still here, even if she’s not. It’s harder to find the good in it, anymore, when he has so much to lose again.

It’s his memory that scares him most. Like a photo album, the images within seem to fade with time and, the more he grabs at them, the more they wear away.

It started with something small. Forgetting you’d told him you would be heading over to visit Maria and the baby after your patrol shift, leading his heart to near beat out his chest as he raced down to the stables like some crazed man, rambling about how something’s happened to you, you’re not back, only for some kid- Jessie, a friend of Ellie’s- to tell him you came back hours ago. He’d pulled you a little tighter against him that night as you crawled into bed, the earlier unnecessary fear a little too visceral in his racing heart.

Then, it happened more often.

Ellie asked him to help her clean out the garage space for her, he forgot and agreed to cover someone’s turn cleaning the stables.

You told him of your love of mint tea, and instead he found you green.

Tommy asked him across the dinner table- a double date, a cause to debut Ellie’s first solo babysitting duties- if he remembered the name of that old bar they’d liked, and his mind was blank. Empty.

All of it, inconvenient. Yet he could brush it off, let it affect him only like a bruise: momentarily, till it faded.

Until recently.

Until the memories of her began to fade.

He’d woken up one morning, earlier than you like always. Kissed your sleeping face, creeped down the creaking staircase, switched on the stove to boil some coffee. And realised he could no longer remember what she’d liked better: pancakes or waffles.

A few weeks later, he tried recalling what shade of blue her soccer team’s kit was. Was it light blue? Or a darker blue, like fresh denim? Was it even blue at all?

Ellie asked him, the caution she used to bring towards mentioning her name long gone with the changing of seasons, if she’d liked any comic books. The sound of a runner, itching and twitching behind some fence interrupted before she could notice he didn’t have an answer.

Sure, she read. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d caught her curled up in bed, the light of her torch illuminating more than just the pages of a book, but her face, too expressive for her own good at times, reacting to each twist and turn of the story. Sometimes, he’d stand in that doorway, unnoticed, till her eyes dropped shut and the light rolled out her hand. Other times, he’d clear his throat, catch her off guard, and tell her get to bed, kiddo, or I’ll tell Mrs. Atkinson you’ll be round after school tomorrow.

What use is it, however, remembering all that, if he can’t remember if she liked comics?

He should talk to someone about it, he knows. He’d tried to, at first. Had tried to drink the courage into him, sat across Tommy one late night, sat around a fire as they settled in for a night in the ski lodge, stranded by some heavy snowfall. He failed then, just like he failed when he tried to tell Ellie, till she raced off to throw snowballs at some kids and he remembered she was too young to listen to his burden, too beaten by life already to deserve stress within the respite of Jackson’s sanctuary. When he failed a fourth time to speak to Tommy, the real issue dawned on him.

He wants to talk to you. You’re the one he talks to, the one he goes to bear his wounds to, trusting no other’s love but your own to patch him up and calm him down. There’s only one issue, however.

He’s not told you about Sarah.

It was never a conscious decision, some secret he’d chosen to hide. Speaking about her simply hurt and, after the arduous months of crossing the country with Ellie, finding a place to call home in Jackson, and learning to hold somebody close again, he’d wanted to get away from pain, for a little while.

Then came the first anniversary of her death spent inside the commune. He’d drank himself blind, like every year before. There’s a hazy memory of that night he’s glad to suppress, one where he’s covered in his own vomit and you’re struggling to hold his weight up under a pouring shower, the sounds of his sobs muffled into your soaked sweater. He’d awakened, and awaited the questioning. Expected to open his eyes and find you stood at the foot of his bed, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. Seeing the room empty was a shock, but drifting slowly down the stairs and finding you scrubbing the stains out of his shirts near floored him.

The very same shirt you wear now, curled up on the sofa. Your eyes are shut, legs are bare, and there’s a gentle breeze that blows at the curtains you’d hung up, your first act upon moving in with him.

With a careful step, he avoids the creaking floorboard as he crosses the threshold. Slow as he can, he lowers the bag off his shoulder and props it gently against the wall, careful it doesn’t slip and let its contents spill out. Then he works at his laces, undoes them one by one, loosens them so his feet meet no resistance as he steps out of them. The summer’s heat affords him the liberation from heavy coats, less layers to shed now he’s returned to you at last.

You lay right, he strays left. Towards the kitchen, footsteps light as he can manage. Two chairs are pulled out at the table, two bowls sit drying neatly by the sink. Ellie must’ve stopped by for dinner. He’s glad to know she’s eaten, glad to know you kept each other company, glad to know the light is off in the shed and her snoring fills the hollow space. And he’s glad to find some food for him. He takes a bite, lifts the plate, finds a note beneath. Your handwriting, what do Joel Miller and breakfast have in common? followed by an arrow, urging him to turn the page around. The answer’s there, weakening his ageing knees. I can’t start my day without them.

Back by the sofa, a book sits split open, spine broken and pages pressed into ageing wood. Its cover is faded, frayed, much like he feels himself becoming.

He recognises it as one he’d gifted you, seasons ago. If he tries hard enough, he can remember the snow collecting in his unruly hair as he waited at your doorstep, and the way your smile melted the chill away, and the mumbling fool he’d made of himself upon handing the present over to you, some version of said you were bored, so I found this for you all he managed before turning on his heel and striding back to his own home, ignoring the teasing smile upon Ellie’s face.

After all this time, you still have it. Still read it. The fact slows his heart, soothes his aching back. Suddenly, he’s more than ready to head back out there, beyond the walls of Jackson, if it means collecting more books for you to remember him by when he’s long gone and withered away, no more than a familiar smell stained into your sheets and a fading warmth in the palm of your hand.

Two loud pops sound out of his knees as he crouches down by your side, the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses the closer he grows to your sleeping form. There’s a want, nestled deep inside his bones, to pull you into his arms and deliver you upstairs to a bed made for two, in search of a peace his soul has not found since he’d left for his shift in the early hours of the morning. It would be cruel, however, to wake you when you’re so beautiful.

Joel once thought he��d liked you best when you were smiling, till you’d fallen asleep on his porch one night, after hours of talking his ears off. Since then he’s liked you best sleeping, resting. Comfortable enough to trust his watchful eye to keep any harm away while your body takes back its much needed rest, even on days like this when he’s not physically there. You’ve got his shirt, his scent embedded into every thread of it, and that’s enough to keep you safe.

The rough of his fingertips reach out to graze the soft of your cheeks, gently dancing up to comb a few strands of damp hair away from your face. It seems you’ve gained your own spider, the faintest of lines beginning to take shape upon your skin. You wear it better than him, Joel thinks, the passing of time upon your body a picture of love, and prosperity, and hope for more time to come. He wears it like a burden, however. A death sentence, a timer on how long till the cold hand of Death takes the place of your warm one clasped in his.

Adjusting to a life he fears to leave has not been easy. There’d been a time where the promise of death was a comfort. To wake each day, reckless with his time and mindless to his body, a thought of all the pain, and all the sorrow, and that overwhelming, heavy, overbearing loneliness that hung over him like a storm cloud at last coming to an end and ceasing to exist, it had kept him going. Though faith died alongside her, a dream of reuniting with his babygirl on the other side was one he clung to on nights when no drop of alcohol and no unlabeled pill was enough to send him off to sleep. Death now, however, means parting from you, from Ellie, from Tommy. It no longer comforts so much as it disturbs him.

Would you comfort yourself, in the wake of his death, with dreams of reuniting someday, down the line, when Death takes you by the hand and guides you back to Joel?

He can only hope his babygirl can forgive the way he now longs to keep living, in spite of her waiting patiently for him in whatever comes after this life. Perhaps his failing memory is a consequence of this, a punishment she sends for making her wait even longer to feel his embrace again, slowly stealing away the only parts of her Joel has anymore.

Even in guilt, he can’t bring himself to believe his Sarah would do such a thing. Her heart was never touched by the bitterness that had hardened his own, her soul pure a freshly fallen snow.

I want you to be loved, dad. Echoes of her voice in his mind, words she’d confessed to him with teary eyes, a half-eaten birthday cake sitting between them, two candles, one in the shape of three, the other a zero, tossed messily on the table. There’d been no real fuss for his thirtieth, at his own insistence. Just his parents, his brother, his daughter. Those he loved, gathered around one table, eating away at food he’d made.

I’m already loved, kiddo. I got you, don’t I?

Joel knew what it meant to feel unloved. For a long time, that’s all he felt. The love only a child could gift died just as quickly in his arms as she had, under the watchful teary eyes of his brother. Grief he dragged around with him, dedicated to both her and the love he no longer felt.

First came denial. A steady 48 hours post-mortem, in which he walked ahead of Tommy and convinced himself she was there, a few feet behind him, talking her uncle’s ears off as he made sure to clear any oncoming threats The denial culminated in him bleeding down the side of his face, a missed bullet somewhere left behind, and Tommy’s pleading voice trying to move him forward, dragging him to tents set up by the army.

Eleven stitches, each one imbedding loss and cowardice into his screaming skin. The anger settled in a few days later. It made a home within Joel, latched onto his heart and began to beat in place of it. It changed him, aged with him, convinced him it was the only partner he’d ever need. A hopeful glimmer of bargaining came in the shape of Tess. But anger and all its roots were too deeply burrowed within Joel, unwilling to be weeded out, no matter how firm the hand.

Complacency was far easier than any fight. Tommy left, the buzz of a firefly seducing him with the idea of better, of more, of a cure. Joel convinced himself things were easier without Tommy and his morals around. The routine of waking, struggling, drinking, passing out was one he practised well and thoroughly. Till Marlene and her suicide mission.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Ellie, with all her snark, and her crass words, and her humourless puns, reminded Joel how it felt to be loved. Laid upon his chest, a need for warmth and a plea for him to survive, she became the closest thing that felt like Sarah in twenty years. How could Marlene expect him to walk away, to leave her in that hospital?

Pain rushes in like a wave meets the shore, dampening him in a melancholy he saves for whiskey. Still resting peacefully on the sofa, your chest rises slow, steady, and constant. He tries to mimic it, matching his own breathing to it. It reminds him of dancing with you in the kitchen, barefoot and bare chested, arms entangled and forehead pressed to forehead, doing his best to stay in sync with your gentle sways.

The floorboards creek the further his aching body sinks to the floor. Like a man meets the altar, he’s on his knees. Blunt fingernails dig into the worn out brown leather of the couch, the only grip he has on reality.

A discombobulated memory dances across his mind. One of a much younger him, with a head full of brown locks and a sleeping daughter upon his couch. Outbreak night. He’d been peacefully unaware of the happenings outdoors, happy to turn another year older next to his Sarah, when a call came through. His brother, dumped in some jail-cell and begging for release. He’d not thought it through much, sighing in frustration yet rising slowly to his feet nonetheless. If he’d known how that night would end, he’d have held his daughter a little tighter as he carried her to bed, he’d have left every kiss he could afford against her forehead, and speak every I love you he had left in him.

Grief is a river that travels the mountain of his mind. Strong, cold, descending upon a downward slope. Its currents are unforgiving, grabbing a hold of anything that blocks the path. Too easy is it for him to slip and fall into the rapids, losing hold of his footing on reality before he realises he’s struggling to breath and there’s a whole new river carving a way for itself out his eyes and down his cheeks.

His eyes close. His breath halts. He tries to remember those breathing exercises, the same ones he uses any time the pain swells too much and the panic begins to attack his nervous system. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Deep breath in. Choke down a sob. Slow breath out. Joel. He pictures you, feet upon solid ground, hand stretched out as you try to goad him out the trepid waters of his grief. Joel. This image of you reminds him he’s got a name, got a life, got a purpose. To help Tommy on patrols. To make sure Ellie always has a place to call home. To keep you warm in the winter, and kissed during spring, and safe no matter where the sun may sit. Joel. The tears fall faster. Messier. He’s no longer a quiet companion at your side, but a mess of ragged breathing and nose sniffles.

“Joel?”

Skin to skin. Soft hand to wet cheek. You’re awake faster than he can process, too quick to wipe tears or feign smiles. Legs scramble off the couch, parted and bent at the knee on either side of him. Musk, and lilies, and every scent that makes him feel safe and close to you envelop the shared space between you.

“Joel, baby, what’s wrong?” Your thumb swipes uselessly at his cheeks, fresh waves rolling out his eyes before you finish wiping the last. Sleep is written all over you, woven into your breathy voice and weighing down the bags of your eyes. He feels a whole new wave of guilt, waking you from such a peaceful slumber with the sight of him and all his ailments bursting out the frayed seams that hold him together.

He thinks he says your name. It’s hard to tell. The blurred image of you through his teary eyes inspires a heavy burden of disappointing you that he can not cope with, and so he ducks his head between your legs, forehead pressing on the inside of your left thigh. His breath is short, his heart is sore, and he’s staining your delicate skin with his pain. You let him grieve upon you, pull him closer. A hand soothes up his back. Your voice tells him it’s okay, and you hum a sweet tune he’s sure he’s played you many a drunken nights, when the confidence kicks in and he’s serenading you with his country twang and guitar strings.

There’s no prying, no demand to rightfully know why you’ve awoken to your lover, steadfast and stoic at his worst, collapsing into your hold. You let him cry. He lets you hold him. You’re all he’s been missing, this feeling of support he’s denied himself for far too long. No fear of your judgement, but fear of pulling you in amongst the dangerous currents alongside him.

An anchor comes in the shape of your fingers carding through his unruly hair, a tether that pulls him back into the living room, into your home, into you. With the patience of any saint, you let him move at his own pace, head slowly rising from your thigh, back straightening to the best of its abilities. His hand, rough and hardened by time and grit and survival, paws at your thigh, clumsy in its attempts to dry his tears off of you, a fear of it sinking into your skin and some part of his sadness taking root inside your bloodstream.

Your hand stills his, gently, coercing his fingers to thread with your own as your other hand cups his face and guides him to look at you. You're beautiful, in a way that makes Joel wish he was better with words so he could spend the rest of his days finding new ways to tell you so. Instead, he has to settle with a simple, “my pretty girl.” You smile, bashful, as if that’s enough, as if you don’t deserve more.

“Hello to you too, handsome.” You peck his cheek, he chases after you with his mouth. Two small pecks, a third he fails to achieve as you hold him back. “Don’t think you can distract me with those perfect lips of yours, Miller. I’m worried about you, and no amount of kisses are gonna change that.”

He refocuses on his breathing exercises. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Deep breath in. No sob this time. Slow breath out. Your gaze, soft as a cloud, rests over him gently, your own chest rising and falling in sync with him. With every night he’d lay awake, trying to think of how to bring up Sarah and the details of her he’s failing to hold onto, never did he imagine the weight to fly off his chest so easily with just a supportive smile from you.

“I had someone before, who I loved.” He pauses. Clears his throat, shifts his weight. His knees are beginning to ache the longer they sit digging into the hard floor. He should have listened to your advice of scavenging a rug. “Not how I love you. Like I love Ellie.”

Silence.

Not the kind where you hear a pin drop, but one that allows the laughter of children playing down the street to blow in with the breeze, and the creaking of the old house you’ve both made a home, and the squeaks and chirps of wild-life continuing on outside, unaffected by the end of civilisation.

Then, “I know.” Joel’s eyes widen, disbelief painted across them. “Tommy’s let it slip a few times. Just when we’re on patrol and he sees something that reminds him of her. Or he’s telling me a story that’s sole purpose is to embarrass you.” A part of him wants to feel angry at his younger brother, stealing his right to reveal such a large part of who he is. The other part of him feels for him too, a reminder that Sarah’s loss is not one he tackled all by himself. She was his daughter, but she was also Tommy’s niece. How could he blame him for feeling comfortable enough to share his grief with you? “Ellie also mentioned it, once. Back before you and I were really…” You fall silent, trail off, as you both usually do when faced with tackling the task of labelling what exists between you.

“Why,” he chooses to distract himself from it, scared of a world where he asks for the right to claim himself as your husband. Those things don’t matter anymore, with the world gone to shit, but a man could still dream. “Didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s your story to tell, I didn’t want to force it out you. I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to.”

He may not know how to label what you are to him, but he knows he loves you. God, does he love you.

“Thank you, darlin’, I really-” He’s getting choked up, caught between his grief for Sarah and his love for you. You seem to understand, as you always do, hands slowly pulling and coercing him up onto the sofa, occupying the space next to you. “Can’t thank you enough.”

“You’ve nothing to thank me for.” You promise, sealing it into his skin with a kiss to his cheek. “I don’t like to see you cry, Joel, but I prefer you do it in front of me. Don’t hide parts of yourself. I want all of you. Good, bad, and everything in between.”

There’s the urge to let himself fall into the river again, now that you’ve pulled him ashore and attached yourself to him like a life vest, an oath to never let him drown. He feels his eyes well-up, but doesn’t let them fall, as his mouth runs ahead of his mind and at last confesses the troubles he’s been keeping close to his chest.

“It used to be like this every day. Tears, unless I numbed myself free of consciousness. Then, things got better. With Ellie and you around. Anytime I felt the anger or the pain swelling, you’d be there and there’d be room for laughter. But I’m getting older, darlin’. Memories’ not the same. There’s things about my babygirl, my Sarah, that I just… can’t remember. And it scares me. Scares me so bad that I don’t know how to cope with it. If I ever woke up and couldn’t remember her face, it would kill me. I wouldn’t be able to go on.”

He speaks slowly. You cling to every word, a gentle nod lets him know you understand. A part of him wonders how deep that understanding runs, if you too had lost a child. He wants to afford you the same grace you’ve given in, and so he doesn’t pry. If you have a story to tell, he can only hope to still be around to listen.

Oblivious to the thoughts of you holding a faceless child swirling around in his head, you pull Joel into you, encouraging him to let you hold his frame. You’ve told him countless times he needs to let himself be cared for, a spark that ignited many arguments in the early days of your love. It feels nice to comply at last, head drifting down to rest on your steady shoulder. Your legs curl up onto the couch, lay gently over his own, as an arm wraps itself around his aching back.

Only like this does Joel feel he’s finally arrived home after weeks of wading through the depths of his own sorrows, evading a bounty placed upon him by time.

Joel is ageing. Everyday, a new line appears on his face. Every year, a new ache burrows in his bones. But, if each moment he can feel your love in acts of kindness, and left-over meals, and sleepy limbs upon a shared mattress, it doesn’t feel as daunting. He wonders what awaits him in the afterlife, when he and Sarah reunite as he so hopes. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that she’d be proud of him for finding solace in a heart like yours.

“Tell me about her.” You plead to him something he’s spent years longing to do.

Without missing a beat, words flow easily and memories play on in his head, his precious daughter no longer blurry in a haze, but fully in focus, smiling wide at him with a mouthful of food.

“She loved pancakes.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #joel miller oneshot #pedro pascal x reader

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ghostfacesvalentine · 1 month ago

Text

Day 11: Halloween Decorating with the muses - Multi!Muse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warning: Not many, a few mentions of alcohol

Type: Blurb

Request: N/A

Word count: N/A

Prompt: Halloween decorating with the muses

Notes: I’m fucking trying here. I tried to make it as GN as possible <3

Jason Voorhees: You would have to take charge of everything, Jason has absolutely no idea how to decorate even a pumpkin. He has fun though, especially seeing you so focused on making your vision come to fruition. When you noticed it was mainly you making the decisions, you try to incorporate his choices. “Green or purple?” You’d ask him which lights would look better wrapped around the frame of the front door. Jason would just have to point and even if you didn’t agree, you made it work.

Michael Myers: Similar to Jason, he wouldn’t have to take the initiative to decorate, instead he’d just stare at the option he’d like the best. It seemed like he leaned more towards red and pumpkins. He would be the best at helping you put the lights up. As you decorate with him throughout the years, you learn that he’s keen on the classic style of Halloween, black and orange, jack-o’-lanterns, all the fixings.

Tiffany Valentine: She would absolutely be the one to set up the place before you would, everything is on the way, sometimes you could even bump heads but since she’s in love, just as you are, she would make both of your ideas work. If you’re a fan of pinkween, she’s definitely on the same page, but pink doesn’t always mean cute, still a fan of blood and guts, it almost looks like a “my bloody Valentine” theme took over.

Billy Loomis: He couldn’t be more in love with you while watching you try to figure out what goes where and what looks best. Billy would be so dazed at times he’d only snap out of it when you scolded him about helping you pin the lights around the window. Of course he would help you, he’d be very involved in the decision making process. Don’t be surprised when he tries to scare you from time to time, making the skeleton prop jump at you or linger its skeletal hand to graze your arm when you’re not looking. Billy is a handful, no pun intended, but he’s always a great time when it comes to time-bearing tasks.

Stu Macher: Similar to Billy, he’s all in, though I would argue Stu is a tad bit more involved in the decision making process, decorating for Halloween is something Stu is 100000% here for. He’s in deep, going to different stores with you, far and near, you almost regret asking him for help. Of course it’s still fun, he makes the best of it, making you laugh with the props around the store, getting food in the process. It’s almost a three day project due to the shopping, the snacking and the actual decorating.

Patrick Bateman: He’s not very big on decorating for the holidays, even if you insist. If it’s in his apartment, keep it to a veeery minimal, unfortunately. Otherwise, as much as it makes you happy, it makes him cringe that his home looks like a Spirit Halloween store. I don’t think he could stand it for long, taking the decorations down the same day. Your place, however, he wouldn’t mind helping, depending on how many decorations and changes you’re making, he honestly may just hire someone to do it for you both.

Leatherface: Bubba is more than happy to decorate anything all the time, he’s such a delight when it comes to holidays. He’s more than willing to be the one who carries all the wreaths and does the heavy lifting. You can be propped up on his shoulder trying to get the lights to sit at the perfect angle and he’s over the moon. Not to mention, all the treats he’d get after being your brave “little” helper.

Harley Quinn: Also a great time when it comes to decorating, her acrobatic skills truly come in handy. Depending on her mood it can take forever, because she gets to horse around or if she comes in with a “let’s get this shit done” attitude, you both will be sipping PSL’s on the edge of the roof swinging your legs back and forth admiring the 12 ft tall skeleton at the top of your apartment complex. “Are you sure the manager said we could sit him on the rooftop?” You’d ask raising an eyebrow as she sipped the last of her latte. “Mhmm” the flashbacks of her pointing a gun to his face briefly made its way to her train of thought.

Poison Ivy: With wine and a charcuterie board, Ivy is more than willing to move some things around. Though her space would be still decked out in green, a little orange never hurt anyone. Orange lights and pumpkins decorated her room, whatever made you happy. Sipping wine and sitting pumpkins around the crevices as you listened to old Halloween music would be a constant for the first week of October.

Billy Hargrove: Billy never really cared for Halloween, his parents would decorate every so often but nothing crazier than that. When he noticed you were a little bummed out when he declined your invitation to decorate. Before you knew it, he showed up to your doorstep with orange flowers and a sweet sorry smile. You wouldn’t admit it, but he made you feel so much better. Just like most of the muses, he just followed whatever you asked him to do. Listening to the scorpions as you draped the spiderwebs across the windows, Billy’s drinking and smoking a cigarette taking you by the waist and spinning you around. He’s not much help, but he sure is a good time.

Steve Harrington: He’d be more than willing to offer his help, mainly because he wants to hang out with you. Though he’s not big on scary movies or themes, he’s more than willing to tough it out some for you. Putting up scary decorations leaves him unsettled and honestly a little nervous, but when he sees your brimming face and feels your arms wrap around his neck in gratitude, he suddenly forgets about the reaper with glowing red eyes pointing right at him. After you’re done setting up the lights, he invites you out to a bite and a scary movie, hopefully he can find more excuses to see you throughout the month outside of work.

Steve Rogers: You never get a complaint from Steve when it comes to helping you set anything up. Halloween is no different, in fact it was Steve who brought the topic up. “Is Y/N not decorating for Halloween this year?” He’d ask almost mockingly as you’d lay upside down on the couch next to him. A playful glare meets his boyish smile. “If only you’d be so lucky” This was Steve’s way of inviting himself to help you. Bonus points if you have a radio he can play classic music to, the night would end with him slow dancing with you to “I don’t want to set the world on fire”

Bucky Barnes: Similar to Steve, but he would wait for you to ask him if he could help you decorate. He’s not much of a decorator himself, especially given the fact that he hasn’t stayed in the same place for longer than a few months. It only gives him more of a reason to want to help you. He’d make little suggestions here and there, brainstorming ways to use most of your decor and make room for new additions. 100000% would bring out the tools if he needed to add a new shelf for your Halloween trinkets or nails to make the inflatables stay put. Just give him a few beers and kisses he’s yours for the whole afternoon to help get the tasks done.

Wanda Maximoff: 100000% would not hesitate to help you decorate, in fact decorating is her favorite thing to do. Halloween is one of the holidays she can be most creative in, so getting her to help you is no issue at all. Her and Tiffany would be the ones out of the list to make trips to the stores for new decorations and inspiration. Wanda would sway a little closer to the “horror” themed Halloween rather than a cutesy one. Her mind is ✨immaculate ✨ and if you posted it on social media, her decor and DIYs would pop off. Lots of spooky crafts and activities to last all month long with her.

Loki Laufeyson: This is a hard one, because he can totally be a brat about it, or he could be the most helpful one. He doesn’t understand the need to decorate, maybe a few things here and there but putting up inflatables, going shopping, it all seems unnecessary. Whatever makes you happy, he’s there for you. Add some nice wine and a few baked good and he’s more than happy to spend the day with you. Loki does acknowledge how the smallest things makes you happy and he thinks it’s cute. “Whatever makes you smile, sweetest.”

Cloud Strife: Doesn’t understand the concept of going all out just as Loki. Throughout time together, he begins to understand the little joy that decorating brings, therefore he never fights you on it. He’s the one doing all the heavy lifting, carrying around the pumpkins, propping up the skeletons. With time, he slowly begins to enjoy it, he will never admit it but you telling him that he’s a great help, heals something in him. After you’re all done setting up the lights and little bats on the porch, you can’t go wrong with snapping a few pictures of cloud with the pumpkins to keep in your journal.

Sebastian Michaelis: He’s already taken care of everything, sorry but hallows eve is most elegant in the Phantomhive household. Of course he would allow a few little trinkets wherever they fit, but nowhere near where the guests are expected to be unless he can use it to his advantage when Ciel is talking to a guest. It doesn’t take long for him to start explaining the meaning of the decor and where it came from, all with a slight demeaning smile at “all the silly little details the human race came up with”

Spencer Reid: Similar but different to Sebastian. Spencer is all in for all kinds of decor, but the nostalgic look of the late 50’s to 80’s would have to be his favorite eras so far. Your apartment would have all kinds of trinkets from various cities and random small towns he’d visit, but he always made sure to grab something pertaining to the holiday. Messy to others but completely organized in each others head, the only things you have to set out were the Halloween trinkets and maybe a few orange fairy lights. Whenever Spencer had the time to come home, he’d always make sure you both were able to finish up decorating and carving pumpkins. Halloween being both of your favorite holidays, there is always time for decorating.

Jason Todd: Kind of similar to Spencer, but not too much in the sense that Jason lets you do whatever you want. However Y/N wants the apartment decorated, it’s the only way it’ll be. If you want to go for a pinkoween he’s 100000% there for it. Jason wouldn’t hesitate to take you shopping, yes even if there’s no way that is going to fit in your apartment, he’s going to find a way if his baby really wants it. Like Bucky, he’s got the tools ready, just tell him where and you won’t have to lift a finger unless you really want to.

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wobblesthecowgirl · 5 months ago

Note

Hii! I literally love your page so much! If you don’t mind, could you write an Arthur x Fem reader fluff?

So I was thinking, Arthur and the reader are close friends and she has feelings for him, like I mean she is HEAD OVER HEELS for him! But she thinks that he likes Mary-Beth or something and somehow he finds out about her feelings towards him and how she thinks he likes Mary-Beth and he confronts her and is like “I don’t like her I like you” and they kiss or something idk I JUST NEED HIM SO BAD RN😭

I Only Want You.

Arthur Morgan x Femreader

I apologise for the long delay! But thank you so much for your patience and request! I hope you enjoy it! And thank you so much for the love! <3

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“Why not write him a letter?”

Y/n was sitting on a log with Abigail under the sun, looking out to the beautiful scenery before them on the edge of the cliff. They were discussing Arthur, a common topic between the two, and Abigail was trying to convince her friend to finally confess.

“A letter?” She tilted her head.

Abigail nodded, “Yes! I mean, you love to write, and you’re too much of a baby to speak to him about your feelings. I think a letter is perfect. You can leave it for him without seeing his face.”

Y/n thought about it and agreed it wasn’t a bad idea at all. She could sneak into Arthur’s tent with a letter telling him everything she’s always wanted to say, and wait for a response. So, she smiled and hugged her friend tightly, before standing up quickly and making her way to her own tent to begin writing.

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This was harder than she thought. She assumed being able to sit and think carefully about what she wanted to say would be easy, but it just filled her head with more doubts. Before she could start her fourth draft, she heard a ton of horses outside and quickly hid the crumpled up pieces of paper. Most of the men were robbing a wagon and had just come back; from the cheers and laughs, she could only assume it went well. She got up from her chair and peeked her head out of her tent and almost screamed in surprise. Arthur stood right outside her tent.

“Oh! Mr Morgan, you scared me!” She laughed it off, a hand to her chest as he chuckled with her.

“I apologise, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I just wanted to tell you how the robbin’ went.”

“I assume it went well, given the smile on your face.” Y/n smiled as she looked around to the other men already cracking bottles of beer. The pair went quiet and the woman wanted to burst into a confession then and there. The sun was setting and it casted a orange glow to his face. His hat caused a small shadow over his eyes and his smile was small and earnest. The little wrinkles around his eyes and mouth only made him more attractive, and his moustache had been recently trimmed.

“Well, I best get back inside now. I’m a very busy lady.” She excused herself. He smiled a little wider and watched her close the tent, almost disappointed with their short exchange.

After their conversation, Y/n got back to her desk and this time, the words began to spill out onto the page with ease:

Dear Arthur,

Firstly, I must apologise. I am too much of a coward to face you, so I’ve resorted to writing this letter.

The truth is, I have fallen head over heels for you. You may not agree with me, but you are a good and genuine man. You’ve helped me in more ways than you could ever imagine. The day you rescued me from my burning horse from the O’Driscolls, I thought my life was over. But, to my surprise, it was the start of an even better life. I truly can’t thank you enough.

I don’t expect you to reciprocate these feelings, and that is ok. I wouldn’t want to ruin this friendship we have formed.

Yours, Y/n.

She kept re-reading it over and over again while a million what ifs ran through her head. What if he’s put off by the letter? What if he has someone already? What if he laughs at her?

She shook her head. She had written it now, all she had to do was plant it in his tent and hide, wallow away in bed while her anxiety ate her up. She folded it and wrote his name on it before peeking her head out the tent again and tip-toeing to his tent. When she saw he wasn’t inside, she snuck in and placed the letter on his bedside table.

Y/n felt satisfied with herself, until she saw a letter on his desk with the name ‘Mary Linton’. Her stomach dropped. Who was this Mary? Was she a lover? A relative? Feeling sick, she rushed out the tent, leaving her letter behind.

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“You alright there, Y/n?” Tilly asked her while she zoned out. It was now night-time, and her mind was eating her up all evening. The women were sat around the fire doing what they do best: gossiping. Of course, Grimshaw or Molly hadn’t joined them, but that was always the case.

“Hmm? Sorry, yeah I’m good.” She brushed it off, taking a big swing of whiskey. The rest of her friends spared glances at one another. Karen piped up while also taking a swig of her own whiskey, “Yeah, I ain't buying that. You’ve been sulking all evening.”

Y/n sighed and began biting her nails out of habit, wondering if asking them about Arthur was a smart idea. But she couldn’t keep letting the question eat away at her.

“Do any of you know who Mary Linton is?”

Mary-Beth looked surprised at the question, “Mary? You don’t know?”

Her stomach dropped again.

“No I don’t.”

Tilly shook her head, already feeling bad for her friend. Everyone but Arthur knew that Y/n had feelings for the older man, it was a miracle the man himself hadn’t figured it out. Tilly sighed, “She used to be his woman. About ten years ago now, but her daddy didn’t like him so it didn't work out. I keep telling him to let it go.”

There it was. Her what ifs became reality. She couldn’t hide her disappointment and took another swig of the whiskey. And another. Then another one.

“Slow down girl! You’ll end badly!” Tilly tried to grab the bottle out her hand but she moved it out of her reach. By now, Y/n vision was hazy and her head felt light. The smell of whiskey was strong on her breath but she felt a little more relaxed at least.

“It’s obvious Arthur likes you back.” Mary-Beth tried to help her feel better, but all she did in response was roll her eyes.

“Oh please. Don’t get my hopes up.” She pouted as she finished the whiskey off. All the women were getting up and getting ready for bed but she decided to sit by the fire a little longer. Karen patted her back, “Please just take it easy. Get some rest soon.” And with that, she was left alone. She just stared into the fire, her mind restless, when she heard a twig snap. She snapped her head back and saw the root of her problems. He looked confused at her state.

“Y/n? What are you still doing at this hour?”

“Nothing.” She frowned, facing away from him, kicking a stone away despite being sat on the log. Arthur sat down next to her, his knee inches away from hers.

“You smell of whiskey, doll. You been drinking too much to handle?” His voice was laced with concern, which only infuriated her more. Why care for her when he already had a woman he cared for?

“Why do you care?” She sounded harsher than she meant to. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was her patience running thin. Maybe it was her disappointment. Either way, her response still shocked him.

“Why wouldn't I?” He asked, and her heart kept sinking lower and lower. They fell silent, and Y/n heard him reach into his pockets and took out the letter. Her eyes widened as she tried to snatch it out his hands but he raised his arm higher.

“Just leave it Arthur!” She shouted, still trying to grab it as he kept his arm in the air, a firm hand on her shoulder to push her lightly.

“Why are you behaving like this? I just want to talk about it.” He tried to calm her down as she stopped prying at him.

“I know about Mary.” She stated which caused his eyes to widen slightly. He glanced at the letter before folding it and putting it back in his pocket.

“The women gossiping again?” He chuckled a little dry, so she only hummed in response. Their gossips were never wrong though, she thought to herself.

“That's history, love. She was only writing to me to help her brother, but I don't like her like I used to.” Arthur grabbed her chin much to her alarm, and gently turned her to face him, before brushing a strand of hair in her face out the way.

That damn smile.

“I love you too. I ain't need a silly little letter, you could've told me and I would've swept you up in a heartbeat.”

It's like time stopped. The alcohol must've gotten to her head. She must've blacked out. Died even, and seen the pearly gates.

But when he leaned forward, and softly kissed her, she felt more awake than ever. He pulled away before she could even react, and his face was bright red.

“Was that a bad kiss? It looks like it was.” He coughed awkwardly.

“No…no not at all. I'm just in shock. I didn't think you actually liked me.”

He laughed light before leaning closer again, a hand on the back of her head, “I don't like you, sweetheart. I love you.”

This time she kissed back, harder. Months of pent up tension between the two was finally being released. It was surprising the two didn't go mad.

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They spent the rest of the night sitting next to the fire, holding hands, and Y/n rested her head on his chest as he held her close. His tumb traced her knuckles as she listened to his heartbeat. She felt protected, safe, warm, and comfortable. She could happily stay like that forever.

Unknown to the pair, the women of the camp were watching from a distance, with giant grins on their faces.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 community #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan

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writergirl2011 · 1 year ago

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Regarding Hyle Hunt

There's been a little discourse regarding the role one Ser Hyle Hunt will play in Lady Brienne of Tarth's storyline going forward. Some people seem to think that he is her perfect match because they hate the idea that Brienne deserves to have a romance with the man she wants--aka one Ser Jaime Lannister--because that messes with the narrative they want to push, whatever that narrative may be.

Some people think that Ser Hyle Hunt is a more interesting and more remarkable man than he truly is, when nothing he's said or done to this point has shown him to be anything of the sort. Personally, I'm not impressed with a man who set up a bet with his buddies over a young noblewoman's virginity--which was essentially the kiss of death to said young woman, who didn't have much going for her on the marriage mart in the first place. (Don't give me the "men will be men" explanation. That makes you no better than Randyll Tarly.) And his proposal of marriage boils down to: "Hey, baby, you've got an island and a lot of money, I've got a functional dick that's already proven to be fertile. I can close my eyes and blow out the candle. Let's do it." How romantic.

There has been absolutely no indication that Brienne will ever love this man, or even care the slightest for him. Threatening to turn someone into a eunuch isn't playful banter, especially not when said man once bet on her virginity and the last time she confronted someone(s) in that bet, she beat the living shit out of them. She hasn't forgotten, and she really hasn't forgiven. And when it comes to Hyle, she never really will, because in her eyes, what he did was the worst of all of them. He came the closest to winning by doing the one thing none of the others did--he made her feel included, like she might be earning a little bit of respect in that camp. Then she found out it was all a lie.

"But she hated Jaime at first!" Yeah, but that was before Jaime: told a lie about Tarth's wealth to save her from rape; shouted "sapphires" and risked a beating to save her from rape again; risked his own life to save hers by jumping unarmed into a bear pit (with only one hand to boot), and revealed the truth about why he killed Aerys, thus revealing that rather than it being a callous act, he'd saved an entire city of innocents--a noble act. THEN he put his trust in her to find Sansa, gifting her with a horse, armor, and a priceless sword. He gave her the respect Hyle only pretended to give her, expecting nothing in return.

What has Hyle done on their road trip? When Brienne kills the three former Bloody Mummers, I'm curious: how long was Hyle there? At least long enough to see her and Pod burying Nimble Dick, but the way he's described sitting there casually makes me think he'd been there longer. Watching. Sitting back doing nothing while she might've been killed. And we don't know what his true motives are in following her. If she finds Sansa, is he going to help her get Sansa to safety--or is he going to betray her and try to turn Sansa in to the Crown for the reward?

If you want any further proof that she doesn't care about Hyle, think about who she tried to bargain for when Lady Stoneheart was about to hang them all. Not herself, and certainly not Hyle. Podrick, the boy. And when they were hanging, as she was dying. the only person she had eyes for was Pod.

And who did she presumably agree to kill Jaime for? Podrick.

Yeah. She's really going to come around on Hyle.

#Brienne of Tarth #Hyle Hunt #Jaime Lannister #ASOIAF meta #give me a break people #reading comprehension #it's a thing

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kckt88 · 11 months ago

Text

Take My Breath Away IX

Summary:

Vaeryna returns to Kings Landing and encounters problems within her marriage to Aemond after he is named Master of Laws.

Warning(s): Language, Anger, Running Away, Kissing, Smut - Rough P in V Sex, Oral Sex - M Receiving, Remorse, Regret.

Word Count: 4743

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

GREENS WIN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

Tag List - @a-beaverhausen, @ammo23, @immyowndefender, @watercolorskyy, @toodlesxcuddles

Smut scene from Dynasty has been reused.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Aegon talked nonstop for over two hours about his time at Winterfell.

He’d made friends with Rickon and some other boys, there was one girl who picked on him sometimes, but he ignored her.

Cregan would sometimes take him and Rickon out on the horses and they would play for hours in the snow, they would also train with wooden swords, and watch as much older boys would spar with the smelly bearded men that liked to stand around and complain about everything.

He also told her about learning to sew, because even though that was something girls normally did, he wanted to learn very much. There was also chance for him to learn how to hunt but he didn’t like that very much, as it made his tummy feel funny.

He told her that sometimes he would cry at night because he missed mother and father, he missed his brothers and most of all he missed her.

Aegon seemed a little unsure of Rhaegar at first, especially when he found out who his father was, but he eventually came round when Rhaegar wrapped his tiny hand around Aegon’s finger.

“I-I’m an uncle” exclaimed Aegon in awe.

“Yes, you are” replied Vaeryna softly.

“I wish we could stay together” muttered Aegon.

“So do I little one, but you need to stay safe” said Vaeryna.

“I know” mumbled Aegon sadly as he buried his face In Vaeryna’s shoulder.

“Here I had this made for you” said Vaeryna as she passed Aegon a wrapped package.

“B-But you didn’t know I was coming” squeaked Aegon in surprise.

“No, but I was going to ask Lady Jeyne to send it on my behalf” said Vaeryna as she watched Aegon tearing open the brown wrapping paper.

“I-It’s-mama” exclaimed Aegon as he pressed the material to his nose and inhaled their mother’s scent.

“I’ve been visiting Dragonstone and I managed to gather some of mothers things, I turned one of her dresses into a blanket for you and I found some of the oils she used for her hair so I thought you might like it” replied Vaeryna.

“I love it, thank you sister” whispered Aegon.

“I apologise for the stitching; I was never any good at sewing” said Vaeryna.

“It’s perfect” gasped Aegon happily.

“Princess, I think we have smelly situation over here” said Cregan crinkling his nose.

“Seriously-you hunt and skin animals, yet you cannot handle a babes soiled cloth” said Vaeryna rolling her eyes.

“I handled plenty of Rickon’s when he was a babe, but I do not recall them being this foul, what are you feeding the boy” said Cregan smirking.

Vaeryna furrowed her brow and Cregan and then shook her head, she lifted Rhaegar from his cradle and then placed him on the bed.

“Indeed, you are a stinky dragon today” cooed Vaeryna as she changed Rhaegar’s soiled cloth.

“You’re a natural mother” said Cregan.

“I learnt from my own” muttered Vaeryna.

“Now that Aegon is distracted, how are you doing?” asked Cregan.

“I’m doing fine” replied Vaeryna.

“Are you sure, because this is me your talking to, and if things are bad, I don’t care what the usurper levies against me, I will do whatever it takes to protect you and the boy” said Cregan.

“I appreciate your kindness but really, I’m fine” urged Vaeryna.

“Just know Princess, that the North will always be your ally” said Cregan sharply.

“You have my thanks Cregan truly” muttered Vaeryna.

“Good, now may I have the honour of holding your son?”

Vaeryna smiled and placed Rhaegar in Cregan’s arms. No doubt Aemond would throw a fit if he knew.

But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Vaeryna’s time with Aegon and Cregan was short but sweet, she had thoroughly enjoyed seeing her little brother, and knowing that Cregan was taking good care of him was a great comfort. Keeping the promise, she had made to her mother was of great importance, they were the last of her living children, but they would not be the last of her legacy as Rhaegar was living proof of that.

Aegon had been a little teary on his departure from the Vale, but Vaeryna had promised that they would see each other again.

The rest of the week went by in the blink of any eye and soon it was time for her and Rhaegar to return to Kings Landing, lest she make good on her threat and never go back. But of course, Aemond would most likely come to the Vale atop Vhagar, if she did such a thing and that was not the kind of trouble Vaeryna wanted to incite.

Of course, there were other more pleasing ways to annoy her husband and after going a week without seeing him, she knew it was long overdue.

After bidding a sombre farewell to Lady Jeyne, Vaeryna mounted her Cannibal and departed for Kings Landing.

Rhaegar was once again strapped to her chest and fast asleep as she snuggled against her.

Dreamfyre had thoroughly enjoyed her time in the Vale, and Vaeryna giggled softly to herself at the memory of seeing both dragons snuggled up to one another as they slept.

Eventually Kings Landing appeared in the distance and instead of feeling apprehensive, Vaeryna felt contentment, she had really enjoyed her week in the Vale, but she had missed Aemond, even though he was a complete twat the last time she saw him.

After both dragons circled the Red Keep a couple of times, roaring loudly to announce their arrival, Cannibal and Dreamfyre landed just beyond the city walls, where Vhagar was currently sleeping.

She opened one large eye, when the two dragons landed and huffed in annoyance at being disturbed.

Vaeryna bid farewell to Cannibal and Dreamfyre and made her way back to the Red Keep, luckily it was a nice day, so Vaeryna enjoyed the walk.

Rhaegar appeared to have woke up but instead of screaming the place down, he silently observed the world around him.

Vaeryna had expected Aemond to be waiting for her as she approached the entrance to the Red Keep, but he wasn’t there, only Ser Arryk appeared.

“Welcome back Princess, I trust you enjoyed your time in the Vale?”

“I did thank you” replied Vaeryna feeling a little put out that Aemond had not come to greet her or Rhaegar.

Vaeryna didn’t speak to Ser Arryk again, as she followed the guard to her chambers, trying to ignore the growing sense of unease swirling in the pit of her stomach.

However, when she entered her chambers, she let out a surprised squeak as she was greeted by the sight of her husband, pacing the room like a caged animal.

Upon hearing her, Aemond came to an abrupt stop. His face lit up as soon as he saw her, and he wasted no time in launching himself across the room and wrapping his arms around her and Rhaegar.

“A-Aemond” giggled Vaeryna as her husband began peppering kisses all over face.

“I’ve missed you so much” exclaimed Aemond.

“I missed you too” whispered Vaeryna.

“How’s my boy?” asked Aemond as he looked down at Rhaegar who gave his father a gummy smile.

“He’s fine” replied Vaeryna as she lifted Rhaegar from the sling and placed him in his father’s arms.

“It’s only been a week and he’s changed so much” gasped Aemond.

Vaeryna watched with mild amusement as Aemond began gazing at Rhaegar, seemingly committing his small features to memory.

“How as the Vale?” asked Aemond.

“It was fine, Rhaegar seemed to enjoy it, when he wasn’t sleeping or eating of course” replied Vaeryna smiling.

“Hm” muttered Aemond.

“What did you get up to whilst we were gone?”

“The usual, training and such” muttered Aemond.

“Sulking then” laughed Vaeryna.

Aemond shook his head and then placed a now sleeping Rhaegar in his cradle.

“I feel I must apologise for my actions the day you left” mumbled Aemond.

“-Oh, really” exclaimed Vaeryna smirking.

“I should not have reacted the way I did”.

“No, you shouldn’t, but what’s done is done and I’m home now” replied Vaeryna softly.

Aemond gazed at her intently for a few moments, he almost seemed to be contemplating what to say or do next.

“Tell me you love me” muttered Aemond as he pulled Vaeryna too him.

“I love you”.

“Tell me you need me” begged Aemond as he lowered his head and pressed his face into Vaeryna’s shoulder.

“I need you”.

“Tell me you want me” whispered Aemond placing gentle kisses along the column of Vaeryna’s neck.

“I want you”.

“Hm” muttered Aemond as his fingers began untying the laces of her dress.

“I-I haven’t bathed yet” said Vaeryna shivering as the and shift slipped from her body, leaving her standing naked.

“I don’t care. I need you” muttered Aemond as he began pulling off his own clothes.

Vaeryna nodded wordlessly as Aemond kissed her, walking her backwards towards the bed.

Aemond had a ravenous appetite, he kissed, licked, and fucked her well into the hours of the night. Never fully satisfied until he’d filled her with his seed three times, and he had been so loud during their love making, that Vaeryna had to pass Rhaegar to the wet nurse.

Aemond was absolutely insatiable, even the next morning he had reached for Vaeryna and had her again.

He muttered nonsensically as he thrust his hard cock into her, begging, and pleading with her not to leave him again.

Afterwards, Aemond had wrapped his arms around Vaeryna and held her close.

At some point Vaeryna had managed to fall back to sleep, she eventually awoke some hours later to find Aemond sitting at the table, eating his dinner with one arm, and holding Rhaegar with the other.

“You should have woke me” muttered Vaeryna as she kissed Aemond on the cheek.

“I didn’t want to disturb you” replied Aemond.

“I’m surprised Ser Criston hasn’t come banging on the door, as I assume you’ve missed your morning training session”.

“Missing one training session won’t hurt, besides I had other things to occupy my time”.

“Glad to hear it” muttered Vaeryna as she reached for the cup that Aemond slid towards her.

“I requested moontea for you” said Aemond.

“Oh” exclaimed Vaeryna surprised.

“As much as I enjoy the idea of my seed taking root and seeing you grow round with my child again, I think it’s best we wait until Rhaegar is a little older before we grant him a sibling” replied Aemond.

“I agree” said Vaeryna grimacing as she downed the moontea.

Vaeryna had hoped that now she was back from the Vale, she could spend time with Aemond, and things would return to normal.

But as it turned out that wasn’t the case, as the Master of Laws Aemond had been swamped by continuous council meetings and having to fly across the realm to assuage the concerns of Lords who were still dealing with the fallout from the war.

For months there were days Vaeryna didn’t even see Aemond at all. Of course, she had Rhaegar to keep her occupied and even Jaehaera, but she still missed the presence of her husband, it was almost like he didn’t have time for her or Rhaegar anymore, and Vaeryna did not like being ignored.

Aemond had been so desperate when she had returned from the Vale, but here he was putting his duty to the King and the realm above his duty as a husband and his duty as a father.

Vaeryna even tried to talk to him about it, maybe even distract him but he let his anger get the best of him and he lashed out at her, calling her a desperate whore, so she thought she’d play him at his own game. He wanted to act like she didn’t exist, well that was exactly what she was going to do.

Vaeryna waited until she knew Aemond was in one of his usual council meetings, and she strapped Rhaegar to her chest and simply left the Red Keep on the back of her Cannibal with Dreamfyre following close behind.

Not too far of course, just to Dragonstone. But she wanted to see how long it would take for Aemond to realise that both his wife and son had gone.

Aemond hated this, ever since his brother had named him Master of Laws, he’d been bombarded by problems.

Problems which often kept him away from Vaeryna and Rhaegar, sometimes for days at a time as he had to fly about the realm and attend to moaning old cunts who couldn’t sort out their own problems.

In the beginning Vaeryna would reach for him during the night, but as time wore on, she stopped seeking out his warmth.

There were times when he would attempt to spend time with her, but he would often be called away and the crestfallen look on his wife’s face would break his heart every time.

He also missed important moments with Rhaegar, and it made him angry.

Vaeryna had tried to talk to him about what was going on and his rage and frustration had simply reached breaking point and he ended up lashing out at her.

She had tried to provide him with comfort and distraction, but he pushed her away and called her a desperate whore.

Of course, he regretted it immediately, but the damage had been done and Vaeryna furiously wiped the tears away from her cheeks and returned to their chambers without a word.

He needed a break from his duties for a few days, if only to make things right with Vaeryna, but when he entered his chambers, she wasn’t there.

Odd, his wife was usually in bed at this time.

Aemond went across the hall to the nursery, as sometimes Vaeryna would be there watching over Rhaegar as he slept, he was almost eight moons old now and he no longer slept in their chambers.

But the nursery was empty.

Where was she?

Aemond loitered around his chamber door for a moment before he went to find Ser Arryk.

The guard who was assigned to his wife was currently standing outside his mother’s chambers.

“Is my wife in there?” asked Aemond.

“No, My Prince, she dismissed me earlier and I haven’t seen her since” replied Ser Arryk.

“-And you didn’t think to tell me?” raged Aemond.

“Is she not in your chambers?” asked Ser Arryk.

“No, she isn’t, and Rhaegar isn’t in the nursery either” exclaimed Aemond.

“My Prince I-“

“-I want the entirety of the Red Keep searched now. I want my wife and son found” ordered Aemond.

“Yes, My Prince” said Ser Arryk as he rushed off.

Soon there were guards and servants searching the Red Keep for Vaeryna and Rhaegar.

Aegon and Alicent were in a flurry of panic, as Rhaegar was heir to the Iron Throne, and he was missing.

Aemond was pacing his mother’s chambers like a deranged animal and Jaehaera seemed indifferent to the whole situation.

The entirety of the Red Keep had been searched and still there was no sign of Vaeryna or Rhaegar.

So, Aegon rounded up his Kings Guard and under Ser Criston’s command they began to search the streets of Kings Landing.

Aemond donned his cloak and spent hours combing the streets, praying for any sight or sign of his wife and son, but again their search proved fruitless.

Aemond grew desperate and even held up several street beggars by a knife to the throat, before someone eventually came forward and claimed to have seen the Cannibal fly over Kings Landing some hours ago.

Why had no one thought to check the dragons, Aemond was furious with himself for not thinking of it before.

Sure, enough when he arrived at the spot where Cannibal liked to rest, the dragon wasn’t there, and neither was Dreamfyre.

“So, she just takes off from Kings Landing without a word” raged Aegon.

“I swear if anything has happened to either of them, I will rip the world apart until I find the ones responsible” snarled Aemond.

“Lets just try to calm down, she’s obviously left for a reason” said Alicent.

“It’s my fault” admitted Aemond.

“What?” asked Aegon.

“I haven’t been spending much time with her or Rhaegar lately, and I guess she felt like I’d been neglecting her-“

“-So, she just what-takes off with your son and my heir?” snapped Aegon.

“We had a big argument and I upset her-“ said Aemond solemnly.

“No excuse to just up and leave-“ exclaimed Aegon angrily.

“-Your Grace”

“WHAT” snarled Aegon.

“A local fisherman has claimed that he saw the Cannibal flying over Blackwater Bay”.

“Blackwater Bay, why would she-“ said Aegon.

“-Dragonstone” mused Aemond.

“Aemond” urged Alicent.

“I will take Vhagar and see if she’s there” replied Aemond, not waiting for an answer as he rushed out of his mother’s chambers and headed straight for his dragon.

In the hours it took him to fly to Dragonstone, Aemond’s mind was awash with worry.

This was his fault; he was too involved in his duties to even notice that his wife had absconded from the Red Keep with their son. He shouldn’t have lashed out at her; he shouldn’t have neglected her or their son.

The word failure kept resonating round his mind as Vhagar glided effortlessly through the sky.

It was well into the morning before Dragonstone appeared on the horizon and Aemond’s heart skipped a beat.

‘Please be here. Please, please’ begged Aemond internally as he had Vhagar circle the island.

It was on the second pass that he spotted the Cannibal and Dreamfyre. Aemond let out a sigh of relief and directed Vhagar to land.

After he had dismounted his dragon, he was met with a ferocious growl from Cannibal who promptly turned his back on Aemond.

Normally the dragon was quite pleasant towards him, but not today and Aemond knew he deserved it.

Even Vhagar who normally would have protected him against such a display seemed unbothered.

“Charming” muttered Aemond as he adjusted his weapons and headed towards the castle.

Since the war had ended, Dragonstone had mostly been left unoccupied, except of course for a group of people that consisted of a Maester, a couple of maids, a cook and a few guards that would swop with some of the guards in Kings Landing every so often. Not enough to provide adequate protection, but it was mostly to oversee the upkeep of the castle, as it was a symbol of Targaryen ancestry and needed to be looked after.

The guards directed Aemond to the throne room, and when the double doors opened, he was greeted by the sight of his wife sitting upon the ornate carved throne.

“Husband” said Vaeryna formally.

“Wife” replied Aemond politely as he folded his arms behind his back.

“I do hope that you weren’t too distressed upon the discovery of my absence”.

“Vaeryna. Please” said Aemond.

“So now you call me by my name, and here I thought I was nothing but a desperate whore”.

“I should not have called you that” muttered Aemond as he walked towards Vaeryna.

“No, you shouldn’t” snapped Vaeryna as she rose from the throne and slowly descended down the steps.

“But you should not have left the Red Keep without word”.

“Surprised you even noticed” muttered Vaeryna as she turned away from Aemond and began walking down one of the adjacent corridors.

Aemond followed Vaeryna in silence, despite it’s provenance he did not know this castle.

Vaeryna pushed open a large ornate wooden door and soon Aemond was standing next to a huge carved map of Westeros.

“The painted table” said Vaeryna as she ran her fingers over the stone map.

“I’ve read about this” said Aemond.

“Aegon the conqueror planned his invasion of Westeros at very this table” replied Vaeryna.

“Your mother also made her plans at this table” said Aemond.

“Yes, she did, she used to sit right there” replied Vaeryna as she pointed to the elevated singular chair positioned to the side of the table.

“Where is Rhaegar?” asked Aemond.

“With Maester Gerardys” said Vaeryna.

“We need to return to Kings Landing”.

“No, we do not. This castle is the seat of the heir, it belongs to Rhaegar, but as he is not yet of age, I’m within my rights to claim it” said Vaeryna.

“So, what? Your just going to stay here with Rhaegar”.

“It would suit you wouldn’t it, your desperate whore of a wife out of sight, leaving you free for your duty as Master of Laws” quipped Vaeryna.

“Vaeryna. Stop” said Aemond his lip curling.

“No, I won’t stop. For months now you’ve been treating me as if I don’t exist, even your own son hasn’t been enough for you to bother” snapped Vaeryna.

“I have a duty to the King and the realm-“ answered Aemond.

“What about your duty to me? To our son?”

“I’ll admit that I’ve been distracted recently but-“

“-No Aemond. I do not care for your excuses. Go back to Kings Landing” snarled Vaeryna as she walked out of the room.

Aemond took a deep shuddering breath and followed his wife, until she stopped so abruptly that he almost crashed into her.

“I’m-sorry for the last few months, I did not mean to leave-“

“-Your apologise mean shit to me, because as soon as the King whistles, his loyal dog will come” said Vaeryna as she opened the wooden door and stepped inside the dimly lit room.

“Do not speak to me in that way” snapped Aemond.

“I shall speak to you anyway I please. I am not someone you can simply command, and I’m certainly not afraid of you”.

“Oh really” challenged Aemond, drawing himself to his full height.

“Yes-really, now do yourself a favour, and fuck off back to your King” said Vaeryna.

“No” replied Aemond sternly.

“Fine. I will take Rhaegar and leave Dragonstone. Leave you and your fucking King”.

“YOUR NOT FUCKING GOING ANYWHERE” snarled Aemond viciously.

“Going to stop me, are you? How exactly are you going to do that when you barely pay me any attention. I bet you wouldn’t even notice that I’d gone” balled Vaeryna.

“You will not leave me. You will not take my son” ordered Aemond his lip curling.

"I will fly my Cannibal across the narrow sea and you will never see either of us again" threatened Vaeryna as she stood against Aemond, her body pressed against his.

"NO, YOU WON'T!"

“What are you going to do about it” snapped Vaeryna.

“YOU WILL NOT LEAVE ME”

“I shall and you will never-“ stuttered Vaeryna as Aemond suddenly lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Vaeryna ripped herself away from Aemond. Staring at him as she put a hand to her mouth.

The resentment swirling in the pit of her stomach was now morphing into something else. The dormant fire of their relationship was roaring to life once more. Coursing through her body.

One kiss, that was all it took. She needed more. She needed him.

Suddenly Vaeryna wrapped her arms around Aemond's neck and drew him in back in.

Their kiss was rough and vicious. Consisting of teeth and tongue.

It had been so long since they’d shared any form of intimacy.

Aemond backed Vaeryna towards the bed, his hands tearing off her dress until it was a ragged mess on the floor.

It was an eruption of frustration and passion. Hands everywhere, grabbing, scratching, and pulling at one another.

Aemond took a brief minute to yank off his leather tunic and shirt before he shoved Vaeryna on the bed, her back colliding with the mattress with a soft thump.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Vaeryna moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Aemond pulled away to unfasten his breeches and push them down, freeing his hard cock.

Vaeryna lay back on the bed, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

Aemond runs his hand up and down the length of himself, eyeing his wife with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she parts her legs for him.

As he guides himself to her entrance, she barely has a moment to adjust before he is pressing his cock forcefully inside and stretching her brutally, causing her to cry out.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” spits Aemond, wrapping a hand around her throat while the other digs into her hip, pulling her aggressively against him to meet each one of his hard thrusts.

Vaeryna can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Vaeryna.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

As Aemond’s hips begins to falter in their movements, Aemond snakes a hand between their joined bodies, his long fingers expertly circling her pearl, causing heat to bloom across her stomach.

He presses down more firmly, making faster movements against her bud making her shudder, as a sudden warmth crashes over her in waves making her cry out, her cunny tightening around him.

“AEMOND!!” screams Vaeryna as her hands claw at his back.

“Fuck!! baby, that’s it come all over my cock!” growls Aemond as he moves to grab the headboard, bracing himself as he continues to pound his hips against hers.

“A-Aemond” gasped Vaeryna.

With a loud animalistic groan, Aemond stills, leaning over his wife, his cock pulsating as he spills his seed deep inside her.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” asked Aemond quietly as he observed the reddened marks that littered his wife’s pale skin.

“No” whispered Vaeryna, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Y-Your crying” muttered Aemond.

“I-I’m not crying because I’m hurt. I-I’m sorry for what I said” whispered Vaeryna as she pressed her face into Aemond’s side.

“Vaeryna” exclaimed Aemond, wrapping his arms around his wife’s shaking form.

“I would never leave you and take Rhaegar. I just feel like I’m losing you. Ever since Aegon named you Master of Laws everything has gone wrong” sniffed Vaeryna.

“I know” murmured Aemond pressing his lips to Vaeryna’s head.

“When I came to Kings Landing, I never thought I would love you so much, but I do, and it hurts when we can’t be together” said Vaeryna sadly.

“It hurts me too, but what hurt more was you just disappearing with Rhaegar, I had no idea where you were or if you were ok-“

“-That was the point” muttered Vaeryna as she once again pressed her face against Aemond.

“My love we need to sort this out, I cannot have you running off every time we fall out”.

“I shall stay here with Rhaegar and then we won’t be a bother too you” replied Vaeryna her voice muffled as she pressed even closer.

“Vaeryna we must talk” said Aemond trying to shift away but his wife refused to let go.

“No” squeaked Vaeryna as she ducked beneath the covers of the bed.

“Yes, we need to work this out. With most of the Lords appeased and satisfied with new taxes and supply chains, I will not need to travel as much and my presence in the council meetings will not take as long” said Aemond.

“Are you sure about that?” asked Vaeryna, her soft fingers running along Aemond’s muscled thigh.

“Y-Yes-gods Vaeryna what are you-oh” gasped Aemond as he felt his wife’s tongue gentle lick the tip of his cock.

“I can always stop?”

“N-No keep going” exclaimed Aemond as his wife’s hot wet mouth engulfed his half hard cock.

“I’m not so sure you realise how serious this is”.

“Yes-I understand fully, please Vaeryna do not tease me” moaned Aemond.

“I don’t know, you don’t seem very convincing”.

“I promise, I will not let my duty overrule my family again, just please-oh fuck” huffed Aemond as Vaeryna took his cock into her mouth once again. Vaeryna smirked deviously as she continued to tease her husband, she was determined to make him beg and plead for her mercy and only when he was on the brink would she finally grant it.

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