#this is an idea I’ve had in drafts for a while

[somepsychopomp]

A Fair Contest

So a little bit ago I drafted an idea for an AU where, instead of the golden apple saying 'to the fairest' it says 'to the most amorous king'

And instead of the ladies fighting over the apple, it's Zeus & Poseidon. In order to determine who exactly is the superior lover (and king + who gets bragging rights), the two brothers select one (un)fortunate mortal that both of them shall take to bed...

and the judge they select for their little contest is none other than Odysseus.

(Takes place pre-Trojan War. In fact there's basically no Trojan War to begin with. Also Odysseus is betrothed but not yet married to Penelope)

Consider this chapter 1 of this fic. I really hope I can finish it because I stayed up to almost 4 am writing this, which is amazing because I've been dealing with a major cold and writers block for a while now

Word Count: approx. 4400

There's no smut yet but I do confess to giving Ody a bubble butt. Also in a world where Ruthlessness never happened/is yet to happen... Poseidon has a thing for strong thighs & is absolutely smitten with Odysseus

Also in my head, I'm imagining Neal's character designs but I think I've kept it vague enough for now that you can imagine whatever designs you like

+++

The wedding had been a most splendid sight, with revelry among both men and gods. The small mortal king, Peleus, was of course honored to host such a wide variety of the gods and have them witness his union with the divine Thetis. Zeus gave the couple his own blessing and permitted Dionysus to pour out his strongest wine for the occasion. 

Well into the night, the attendees danced to a tireless band and feasted upon the finest foods available. Gods mingled with mortals, some sneaking off with a young maiden or cupbearer for some more illicit fun. 

All was going well until the first beam of daylight shone upon a pedestal that no guest noticed before, where a golden apple awaited. 

Curious onlookers clustered around it, wondering where it could have come from. The mortals believed the apple to be made of real gold, thinking it was a lavish wedding gift. The gods were equally mystified, knowing that something so perfect and beautiful could only be given by one of their own. Hera pursed her lips at the sight of it. 

The king of the gods made his way to the center of the crowd, the other guests parting for him with their eyes averted in deference. He regarded the apple with mild curiosity, having a treasury greater than all of Greece’s wealth upon Olympus. A ribbon was tied neatly to the apple’s stem with a message embroidered upon it. 

“To the most amorous king.”

Zeus chuckled at the oddity of this little present and moved to take the apple. 

Only for another hand to grab it at the very same moment. 

The two gods stared at each other. 

“What do you think you’re doing, dear brother?” Zeus asked, the smile falling from his face. 

Poseidon rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Taking my prize.”

“You?” Zeus said, his voice dripping with outrage, “You dare defy your king like this?”

Poseidon’s voice turned sharp and cold. “I am lord of the seas! The gift doesn’t say ‘to the king of the skies’, now does it? No, you read it yourself.”

The mortal guests, including King Peleus, began to make their quick exit from the venue. Some of the lesser gods were also making their sneaky escape, fearing the worst was about to come. 

Hera approached her husband and wrapped her arms around his own, “Darling, it’s just an apple. If you want one, I’ve got a whole orchard full.”

It was true that Gaea, the very earth itself, gave Hera a grove of enchanted apple trees as her wedding gift. The trees were immune to all illnesses and sprouted fruit of pure gold all year round. In all likelihood, this very apple was stolen from the Queen’s orchard.

The god-king’s most favorite child appeared at his other side in an attempt to soothe his growing rage, “Father, listen to Queen Hera. This is a trick meant to sew discord, nothing more.”

Zeus ignored his daughter Athena as if she weren’t there. 

“Let it go, my love.” Hera said, “After all, why have one apple when you could have hundreds?”

Zeus gave her a sharp look, his golden eyes burning with a harsh, radiant glow. The queen of the gods was so taken aback that she shrunk away under the weight of his glare. Zeus said, “I am the god of judgement! No matter how trivial of a token it is, I will not let my brother take what does not rightfully belong to him!” 

Poseidon threw his head back and laughed, not one to be daunted, “Oh, is that so? And how will you prove that it doesn’t belong to me, hm?”

He tossed the golden apple into the air, catching it in his other hand. Zeus bared his teeth and snatched Poseidon’s wrist, unwilling to let elder brother even hold the thing. 

It was now apparent to all the remaining gods what this was really about. 

Neither king would secede when their pride and egos were in jeopardy. For either of them, letting the other take the apple now, after they’ve already started bickering, would mean admitting they were the more feeble lord, a less competent lover. And such a slight against their reputations would never stand. 

“Ahem,” a voice said. 

A lovely woman with flawless bare skin for all the world to admire, a translucent shawl draped around her arms and roses in her pale tresses, stepped forward. 

Zeus barely spared her a glance. “What is it, Aphrodite?”

She smiled, though not without a hint of mischief in her eyes, “I think I have the solution to this little conflict of ours, one that will minimize any substantial damage to our family… or the known world.”

Zeus inclined his head in interest. Poseidon gave the goddess his ear, as well. Zeus let go of his brother and the sea god set the apple down. 

Athena bit her lower lip, knowing that Aphrodite’s schemes were almost never more than just that: schemes. Games to amuse herself with. She had something else in mind. 

Aphrodite snapped her fingers. A large, circular mirror gilded in silver and gold appeared in the air behind her. The surface rippled the same way a pond did when met with rainfall. 

A beautiful young maiden with a long braid of black hair tended to her garden. The image rippled and was replaced with what was clearly a princess being dressed for the day by her servants. Again, the image shifted and showed a handsome young man in a short chiton as he shepherded his flock of sheep. 

Aphrodite said, “Now, I’m sure you two could spend eternity bickering back and forth, boasting of your skills and past conquests, but as the goddess of love myself… why not have more of a practical examination?”

The two brothers exchanged a look, coming to the same conclusion. 

“You want us to share a lover?” Poseidon asked. 

Zeus added, “And have them decide?”

Aphrodite winked and gave them a cheerful smile. “Well, what do you say? There’s no shortage of pretty boys or girls across the land. Come, take your pick!”

Zeus stroked his beard, a few sparks crackling across his fingertips. Poseidon crossed his arms in contemplation. 

“Father, Uncle!” Athena said, trying to catch their attention, “This is madness, can you not see?”

But neither god answered her. Athena was in disbelief. 

All this over a golden apple that neither needed or really wanted. This was all about their reputations as accomplished lovers, which they shouldn’t even have considering they were both married men. 

And Aphrodite, it was clear she was only doing this to make a story out of it, the way she and her son Eros loved to couple mortals together, only to break them apart. No doubt some terrible fate will befall the chosen victim, no matter who they named the superior lover. 

In Athena’s mind, she could only imagine the loser of this game casting some bitter curse upon the poor mortal as revenge. But that was the fun of it for some gods, to see the doomed fate of some poor soul after getting mixed up with the divine. 

Behind Zeus’ back, Hera threw her hands into the air before storming off, summoning her chariot pulled by winged horses to return her to Olympus. 

Athena threw a disappointed look at Aphrodite before leaving as well, deciding to go where her counsel would be appreciated. 

+++

By mid-morning, Odysseus’ back and brow were already covered in sweat as he endeavored to finish the roof over his wedding bed before an unfortunate rain could sully his hard work below. 

The house he was raised in was perfectly fine, but with all the servants and guards on top of his family, it was not the largest of castles. It was also an old thing in constant need of repairs. Odysseus always envisioned a proper palace atop Ithaca’s mountains, one where his own family could grow large and have plenty of space to themselves. 

So, before the eve of his wedding, he endeavored to complete the house of his dreams for his new wife to enjoy. He started with their olive tree, a living symbol of his devotion to his betrothed. Odysseus labored day and night to carve part of it into one of the four posts for his wedding bed, taking extreme caution to not cut away so much that the tree would die. 

The largest bough of the olive tree would overlook one of their windows, with a perfect view of the vast ocean beyond it. Odysseus already carved the other three bed posts and constructed the frame, but there was always more work to do. As the common larborers constructed the foundation and walls for the other rooms in the palace, Odysseus went to work constructing the roof for his bedroom. 

With a sizable living tree in such close proximity to his quarters, he trusted no one but himself to complete the project without damaging it. 

Taking up hammer and nails, hauling wood and stone, and fitting everything into place almost entirely on his own was unusual for a king. Odysseus knew this, but the labor brought him joy like no other. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, imagining opening the door for the very first time as a married man. He would carry Penelope to their wedding bed, built entirely by his hand, and spend the rest of his life with her. 

Focus, he told himself. 

For now, Penelope still dwelled in her natal homeland of Sparta. As soon as her new home was completed, she would set sail for Ithaca.  

Odysseus wiped the sweat from his brow as the sun beat its rays upon his back. Maybe it was foolish to fear the coming rainfall, but he could see the grayish clouds on the horizon.

By midday, he was hopeful he could have the roof finished by nightfall. As Odysseus dropped from one of the wooden rafters into his nearly-complete bedroom, his tunic must have caught on a nail or perhaps a large splinter. He heard the sharp tearing of fabric and grumbled at the gash across his front. One of the room’s alcoves had some of his clothes, since he didn’t have time yet to build the chests or wardrobe. 

Thinking better of a tunic, Odysseus merely replaced it with a rectangular length of cloth fastened at the waist. It was something his mother wove, a lovely shade of blue to match the sea, embroidered with red and white thread. 

From somewhere nearby, he heard the familiar clicking of an owl’s beak coming to greet him. He smiled and turned around, draping his tunic over his arm as his mentor approached him in the form of a brown and white speckled owl. She sank her talons into his arm and flapped her wings as if in outrage. 

He let her perch on the alcove’s lip as he fasted a leather pauldron to his left shoulder. She hopped back on and Odysseus could feel her talons clench and unclench even through the tough leather. 

“What troubles you, Athena?” Odysseus asked. 

He set out through the bedroom’s heavy oak doors, finding himself in a long hallway that was finished, but not yet furnished or cleaned. 

She spoke into his mind, Sometimes, I wish I could belong to any other family but my own. 

Odysseus chuckled. “I’m sorry to hear.”

While he loved his parents and sister dearly, he knew that Athena often butted heads with her siblings and uncle. 

Odysseus counted the windows that still needed shutters and curtains, along with the patches in the roof that had yet to be filled in. Farther along, the great hall where they would entertain guests was still only a skeleton. Only half of the supporting beams and columns were installed and the whole place reeked of sweating men. 

Athena paid the laborers no mind as the citizens of Ithaca bowed for their king as he walked by. 

You know I’m not one for gossip, but I fear something terrible is about to strike the land. 

“Is that so?” Odysseus asked, his smile dropping. 

Yes, a terrible tragedy yet to come in the form of my Uncle Poseidon and my father. 

A servant approached Odysseus with a serving platter. He took a cup of water and drank deeply, and snatched a small bowl of olives before going on his way. 

“They’re angry with us?” Odysseus asked, fearing what this might mean for his people.

No, Athena said, accepting an olive and biting into the tender flesh with her sharp beak, Not quite, but their egos are yet again showing themselves. If you find unusual weather patterns in the next few days, pay them no mind. 

“Ah, I see.”

In truth, he didn’t understand Athena at all. But she seemed in the mood to vent about her personal feelings and seeing as she didn’t do so often, Odysseus was careful to listen. 

Athena clacked her beak in irritation. Odysseus bit into his own olive as he felt a sharp nibble on his ear before she started combing through his damp hair. She must’ve found something in his hair, a bit of dust or a wood chip, because he could feel her tugging at him. 

How goes construction on the new palace?

“Every day, I can see the way it’s growing.”

Odysseus passed by a group of men sitting in a loose circle, taking swigs from a water skin as they fanned themselves. One caught sight of Odysseus and they all scrambled to their feet. 

Odysseus held out a hand to put them at ease, “Catch your breath if you must. A tired man is more prone to making mistakes, and I will not have any in my new house.”

The men all sighed in relief and went back to their break, waving goodbye as he continued onward. Athena cooed to show her approval in his decision. He thought her mood was improving, but not a moment later, she said, I just can’t believe them sometimes. 

“Oh?”

Odysseus thought Athena said her piece already. She clicked his beak right in his ear. 

You would think that the god of law and order would have some sense in his head. But no! Apparently my mother Metis still possesses it. If only Father would listen to her, if not me.

Odysseus said nothing, having never heard Athena speak like this before, especially about her father. He thought it best to remain silent; perhaps Athena could complain about Zeus without punishment, but he knew far better. 

Athena clicked her beak with a different sense of urgency and Odysseus gave her another olive. She held it in one foot while balancing on the other, dropping the pit when she was finished devouring the flesh. 

“You seem awfully worked up,” Odysseus said, “Anything I can do to lift your burdens?”

Athena shook her head. No, I’m afraid this is something that no one man can solve, as frustrating as it might sound. 

He crossed the central courtyard and approached the war room, one of the few nearly-complete parts of the palace, where his chief architects and advisors were waiting to update him on their progress. 

Though Odysseus was primarily trained in the art of war, he was also well-versed in song and poetry, history, oratory, and arithmetic, all courtesy of Athena. He wasn’t an expert in architecture yet, but he had his own hand in designing the layout of the palace. 

“Good day, my friends.” Odysseus said, parting the curtains that served as a makeshift door until the palace was fitted with proper ones. 

One of his elder advisors squinted at Athena upon his shoulder. “My liege?”

Before they could go over any potential issues in the construction or their budgetary concerns, Odysseus wandered over to the window and let Athena take off. She disappeared through the trees, though he knew he’d see her again soon.

+++

Despite the fact the sun was about to set and the two godly kings had been bickering all day long, Aphrodite hadn’t lost her patience yet. In fact, she was even reveling in her task at hand. 

They moved their business to her abode on Olympus, where her many mirrors were put to good use. Zeus and Poseidon scoured the lands for a suitable judge to measure their sexual prowess, each of them interested in different aspects of what made up a potential lover. 

Zeus was pleased with just about any pretty face that breathed, but Poseidon was a bit pickier with appearances. He didn’t want his maidens or young men to be too skinny, and he seemed to have a preference for those with strong legs. Aphrodite could certainly work within those bounds. 

At the same time, Poseidon was more open to sharing a lover with some previous sexual experience, thinking it’d make the whole process easier. Zeus wrinkled his nose at the idea and insisted he wanted someone “new”, not wanting to muck about after some vastly lesser mortal man had his way with their chosen judge. 

Aphrodite agreed that was a good point, so instead of letting the two kings squabble, she put her talents as a matchmaker to good use. After a brief consultation, she put together a list of minimum requirements that satisfied both gods. 

One, their shared lover had to be attractive, preferably with appealing legs. 

Two, they had to be virginal. 

Three, they all agreed that the mortal should come from high standards, so some form of royalty. They could be a princess or a prince, or even someone lesser than that, but anyone of a noble bloodline would be preferable to a random maiden. Of course, both kings had their fair share of peasant-girl chasing, but for such an important competition, Aphrodite understood their concerns well. 

And lastly, the judge should be someone intelligent. Someone who wouldn’t buckle under the pressure of their assigned task and would be able to use not just their body, but logic to determine the true and indisputable winner. 

No doubt each god had their plans to bribe the judge, but who wouldn’t?

If it was Aphrodite competing for the apple, she wouldn’t hesitate to pull out a few tricks of her own. An idiot might be easy to bribe, but that also meant they’d be easy for the competition to bribe as well. To each of the male gods, an intelligent lover would certainly be able to recognize a superior bribe.

“Sadly, your stipulations exclude Helen of Sparta,” Aphrodite said, waving away the image of Helen in her largest mirror, “She’s had children by now, though she’s still quite lovely.”

Poseidon made a noncommittal sound, as if he might reconsider, but Zeus urged Aphrodite to move onto the next candidate with a flick of his wrist. The two of them sat before her best mirror, looking almost comical in her rose-colored, dove-ingrained armchairs. 

They went through a few more potential candidates, including Penelope of Sparta and Ctimene of Ithaca. Neither god was very impressed by her choices, but just as Aphrodite was about to move onto the next candidate, Poseidon held out a hand. 

“Wait a moment,” he said, his eyes narrowing, “Who is that in the back?”

“Oh?” Aphrodite asked. She returned to the image of Ctimene. She was bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, her veil fluttering in her wake as her handmaidens walked with her. They seemed to be exiting some great ruin, but on closer inspection, the gods could see men at work. They were building a great palace, it seemed. 

Well, great by the standards of mortals. 

Behind Ctimene, a bare-chested young man held out a hand and seemed to be directing a group of others. Aphrodite’s mirror rippled and showed them the young man in greater detail, leaving young Ctimene out entirely. 

“Oh,” Zeus said. 

Aphrodite concealed her eager smile, more thrilled than ever at this sudden twist. She examined the young man’s features, including the sharp angles of his nose, his dense locks of dark brown hair, and his high cheekbones. He bore a striking resemblance to Ctimene. As the goddess of love, there were a few other details Aphrodite could parse out just by looking at him, but she would conceal her thoughts for now. 

She said, “Why, that would be none other than King Odysseus of Ithaca!” 

Though the young ruler was about the same height as his sister, he was no slight-of-frame weakling. His broad shoulders complimented his strong chest and arms, certainly the build of a warrior. His stomach was a flat plain and below his garments, well muscled thighs teased them almost playfully. 

A pale scar ran along the inside of one of his thighs, but it only added to his character. Though Poseidon maintained his interest, Zeus scoffed. 

“King, you say?” Zeus nudged his brother, “You know what that means.”

Poseidon was still appraising Odysseus’ thighs, “Plenty of whores in and out of his bed?”

“Actually!” Aphrodite said, clapping her hands, “You’ll be beyond pleased to know that young Odysseus here… is virginal.”

Now that had both gods’ attention. The King of the Gods seemed incredulous.

“How old is he?” Zeus asked. 

“Twenty years, my dearest king.”

“And he’s still a virgin?” Poseidon asked, his eyebrows flying up in surprise. “Why? Is he stupid?”

Aphrodite giggled behind her hand, “He’s determined to save himself for marriage, like a maiden! But it can’t be helped. I do believe he’s Athena’s pupil, after all. And I’m sure she holds him to what she perceives as a high standard.”

Aphrodite rolled her eyes, “Whatever the case may be, he’s remained celibate thus far. Perfectly ripe and ready to be plucked, if you would.”

The gods of the sea and sky shared a look. 

Zeus said, “Show us more.”

Aphrodite was more than happy to do exactly that. She waved her hand and the stationary image of Odysseus began to move. There was no sound to accompany the vision, but all three of them remained silent as they watched Odysseus work. 

He carried multiple rucksacks full of supplies up the spiral staircases of his house while other laborers stopped to eat their dinner. He seemed more than intent to get somewhere, not stopping until he came across a large bedroom with the roof still letting in sunlight in a few patches. Interestingly, while the bed was large and well made, it lacked a mattress or rug thrown over the rungs. Perhaps that would come later. 

Odysseus hopped out the window, seemingly ignorant to the fact there was a steep drop right below him, as he grabbed hold of a tree bough and climbed into the roof. It looked like he was intent on using every last bit of sunlight to his advantage as he finished laying out the clay shingles. 

The sweat across his body glistened like stardust as the sky above him glowed with the most beautiful shades of red and gold. He put his strong body to use by covering the few bare patches of his rooftop, stopping only to retrieve a shallow clay bowl from his pack, filling it with oil and floating a wick on top before igniting his lamp to give him a bit more light. 

Zeus snapped his fingers. In an instant, Hermes was fluttering at his side. 

“Yes, Father?”

Without taking his eyes off of Odysseus, Zeus said, “Contact Helios. Tell him to wait a while longer before dusk arrives.”

Hermes spared Odysseus a brief glance before nodding and flying off. Though the mortal didn’t seem to notice, the sun did indeed stop setting. 

Odysseus set down his hammer to dab his sweat-soaked face with a rag. He was tiring now, but intent on finishing his job if the determined look in his eyes was any indication. 

Poseidon held up one hand and curled a finger toward himself. 

The hammer that Odysseus just set down began sliding toward the edge of the roof. 

“Brother…” Zeus warned. 

Poseidon said, “Trust me.”

Odysseus snatched the hammer before it could fall, but found himself quite close to the edge now. 

Poseidon cupped his hands around his mouth and blew softly. A wind coming off Ithaca’s coast kicked up, carrying the salty scent of the ocean with it. As Odysseus stood with his hammer, he raised his other hand to shield his eyes from the sudden gust of wind that ruffled his hair and clothing. 

Aphrodite’s eyes widened, instantly recognizing the game Poseidon was playing. She added her own flare as well, using just the slightest twirl of her finger to undo the belt holding young Odysseus’ garments in place. 

The poor young king seemed baffled by his sudden misfortune, moving swiftly to capture his garment before the wind could steal it away. Aphrodite froze the image without being told to do so, but she was quite proud of her timing. 

Odysseus stood in all his mortal splendor, revealing his tan skin scarred by past adventures. He was healthy, with the body of an athlete and his arm outstretched to better display the toned muscles under his skin.  

“What a surprise!” Aphrodite said with mirth, tracing her finger along the surface of the mirror, “Look at his little dimples!” 

Indeed, a twin set of dimples rested over his lower back, no longer concealed by his clothing. But that was not all. Some men were cursed to be rather flat in their rear, leaving them looking awkward or incomplete at times, but Aphrodite was equally pleased that Odysseus had something worth looking at below his dimples. In addition to the well-defined muscles in his shoulders and back, he sported the most grabbable bottom. 

If Odysseus was not doomed to be the plaything between kings, Aphrodite might have been tempted to take him for herself. 

She held out her hands as if Odysseus was nothing more than an exotic animal on display. Poseidon was leaning forward in his chair, his head tilted with interest. Zeus, too, seemed sold at last. His golden eyes sparkled more brightly than usual as he traced over the little king’s backside. He ran his tongue over his teeth. 

Aphrodite smiled, “So, my dears… what do you say? Is Odysseus of Ithaca to be your judge?”

[rcmclachlan]

2024 Tumblr Top 10

Tagged by the wonderful @liminalmemories21

How it works: Share your top 10 tumblr posts from last year! Visit this site, scroll down to "Find your Tumblr Top 10," type in your username, and select 2024. When you get the results, simply click "Share to Tumblr" and you'll get an auto-generated draft for a post with links and previews. Make any adjustments you see fit.

Surprising no one, all my top posts in 2024 were about BuckTommy. Here’s the breakdown:

1. Tommy’s just as insane as Buck (1,184 notes - Aug 15 2024)

This is probably my favorite post of the year, so I’m glad it’s sitting pretty at number one. Even after what we’ve learned about Tommy since I posted it, I still stand by it. There is no way Mr. Sure I’ll Fly Into A Hurricane On A Hunch is normal about anything.

2. Amnion (mpreg, 8x06 fix-it) (777 notes - Nov 9 2024)

This predated the mpreg tsunami that hit the fandom by about a week, but if you’ve been following me since April, you’ll know that dadvans and I had been surfing that wave all along. 

3. Season 4 alternate meeting (726 notes - Aug 10 2024)

I’ve got a list as long as my arm of ways Buck and Tommy could’ve met earlier, but the idea of “what if their paths crossed the day Buck learns about Daniel” grabbed onto my ankle like a mutant west highland white terrier and wouldn’t let go. 

It eventually became the fic Histocompatibility on AO3.

4. 8x05 spec fic ("Kiss me, Thomas!”) (704 notes - Oct 23 2024)

I wrote this after the first pictures of Buck’s face dropped a couple of days before the episode aired. At the time, we could only see one boil (I think the most popular theory was that a spider had laid eggs in his face, a la Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark), so I decided to have a little fun. 

Apologies to the people who were scarred for life after learning what a giant weta is. 

5. The 118-217 Shadow Summit headcanon (665 notes - Dec 29 2024)

A very late addition to the list! There I was with all these headcanons, still mourning the breakup and wishing the show had given us some cross-station shenanigans, when I realized I could solve all my problems with fic. Why would I try to get Buck and Tommy back together when the yahoos at the 118 and 217 could do it for me?

Then I took it a step further with this missing scene, which I had an absolute blast writing. These people are bonkers (to me).

6. “So? Tell me about the hot pilot.” (652 notes - Sep 13 2024)

I can never get enough of the Buckley siblings, and since the show finally gave us something substantial with 7x05, I decided to delve a little deeper into Buck and Maddie’s conversation about Buck’s bisexuality and the man responsible for opening his eyes to it. 

It eventually became the fic Table of Contents on AO3.

7. New Year’s Eve fix-it ficlet (651 notes - Jan 1 2025)

Okay, technically it shouldn’t be on the list because I posted it in the new year, but I wrote it a couple of hours before midnight while watching Wicked with friends, so I’m including it. It was a half-baked idea that became a half-baked fic, but it seemed like people enjoyed it, so I’m taking that energy into the new year!

8. More 8x05 spec fic (missing scene) (589 notes - Oct 24 2024)

Another fic that was born out of the episode previews, which allowed me to bring my 217 OCs out to play. All I kept thinking was, ‘What was going through these people’s heads when they heard dispatch say a body had been found at the 118? Probably something along the lines of: must be Tuesday.’ 

9. Pregnancy kink ficlet/headcanon (526 notes - Aug 29 2024)

No explanation necessary. 

10. Relative Value (499 notes - Jun 26 2024)

“Give me Uncle Tommy or give me death” has been my mantra since Tommy and Buck made out in front of God, country, and the entire First Presbyterian ER lobby. Also, it’s a headcanon of mine that all the 118 kids are obsessed with him, much to Tommy’s confusion and amusement. 

It eventually became Relative Value on AO3.

Well, this was a fun little retrospective! I can’t believe this dumb show pushed me out of writer’s block limbo as hard as it did, but I’m very grateful. 

Tagging: @dadvans, @screamlet, @epiphainie, @leashybebes, and @beanarie​​

[olenvasynyt]

Here’s my full headcanon about Tamlin and his fiddle btw. This is a bit like a drabble and includes a quote from my Lucien backstory fic!

Tamlin was very young and was always quiet and sad but still a wholesome kid. Spring was very religious and often used their faith in the Mother to dictate their rule on humans and the lesser fae. Tamlin always saw this violence and abuse and hated it, but the one thing about worshipping and the Cauldron that he loved was music.

Music. During the War, going to temples to worship was not an option, but when the War ended they went back to Spring and managed to restore the old Mother’s temple. He would go to with his mother and father and brothers and hold his mother’s hand and sit in awe over the beautiful music. They had a full choir and orchestra and would fill the temple with the most ethereal sounds. He was always fixated on the orchestra, especially the violin soloist. That was when he wanted to learn how to play.

His mother admired his found love for music but his father tried to force it out of him. Tamlin was reluctantly compliant, but would still admire the music silently.

He joined the war-band camp when he was a bit older. He was hard-working but quiet and serious, even when he realized how relaxed the camp members were. They would follow his father’s orders, but there wasn’t a war anymore, even though his father might yearn for another. Many were older veterans who were sick of fighting and loss. And patrolling the Wall was boring and useless to many of the members. Tamlin opened up more when he realized that a lot of them even had the same ideals as him. They disliked Hybern, they sympathized for the lesser fae, etc. They had no interest in fighting like his brothers.

One day, Tamlin was patrolling the border with his new friend and fellow war-band member Andras when he came across and lesser fae stranger who was selling his old fiddle so he could afford food. The lesser fae used to be a minstrel, but was old and dying, and his hands could no longer play like they used to.

It was an old fiddle. Plain in appearance but still in decent shape. Tamlin had the aching urge to buy it off him but was hesitant, knowing his father wouldn’t approve. Andras tried to convince him, but Tamlin simply gave the lesser fae money for food and said to keep the fiddle.

When they got back to camp, the fiddle was in Tamlin’s tent.

Tamlin kept it, but he was afraid to play it. He stored it behind his weapons rack, covering the case with an old blanket. But one night he took it out, tuned it up, and played a bit, and felt the same feeling he got when he heard the temple orchestra for the first time.

He would play by himself at night, when the camp was loud and being ruckus by the fire. But Andras, who always heard him play, convinced him to take it out and play for the camp. “There’s nothing more fae than dancing to music by the fire pit, Tam.”

Tamlin would play his fiddle in front of the camp, but “only on special occasions”, he argued. At first it was on holidays or when a war-band member went up in the ranks. Then it was more often, when Tamlin’s anxiety would burn away with the fae whiskey and the cheerful camp fire.

Quote from ACOEAS:

Tamlin got the fiddle off of a lesser fae male who had been living on the side of the road. And it sure looked like it; the case, which he kept hidden behind the sword rack in his tent, was an old wooden thing with several scratches and a dusty leather lining. The instrument itself was quite dull as well—there were no pretty leaf designs painted on the rouge wood or a fancy carved scroll—but he took care of it well.

When he became high lord, he fell into a depression. The loss of his mother hit him hard, and he often found himself mourning of the fact that his mother never got to hear him play. He did not touch his old fiddle, which had worn over the years. But a year or so after becoming High Lord, Andras and their new friend Lucien gave them a new gift, which they claimed was “to honor their new High Lord”. It was a brand-new fiddle, carved with the most beautiful floral and leaf designs. They said it was a gift from a stranger: a lesser fae who remembered his kindness, his hidden powers…and knew that he would be a good high lord who treated the lesser fae with kindness.

He hung up the old fiddle above his fireplace in the minor to remember. And every solstice and equinox, Tamlin plays the new fiddle for all his people: high fae and lesser alike. And he remembers his mother and friends.

[crybaby-bkg]

Being in the forest, you’ve come across all kinds of things, people, beings. You, being one of them, a fairy, an olden one of your kind, the kin that’s far and few to find just lurking around. So you’re special, held in high regard to those who frequent your area of the forest, respected and highly praised. Most know to bow and smile without teeth when they see you, except for one.

He’s new, you suspect, with his too big green eyes and tilted head. He takes in every part of the forest, mumbling to himself, picks at his bottom lip. His hands rests on his hips, and you notice his chest is naked and his lower half is covered in thick, dense fur. It tapers off into shiny hooves that he taps into the soft grass, and you wonder when the last time you saw a satyr was.

He’s a pretty one, you think, with thick curly green locks and curious eyes. His ears are pointed and they twitch in your direction at your giggle when he trips over a tree root. His gaze swivels over to the flower you rest on, and he perks up at the sight of it, clumsily making his way to you.

Everything’s all giggles from you, until he picks up the flower you rest on, mouth opening as the flower comes quickly to his mouth. Before he can devour you, you screech at him, something in your old tongue that nobody in a thirty mile radius could understand. But he stops, pulling the flower back, his curious green eyes widening when he finally makes out your camouflaged body sitting prettily in the bud of the flower.

“Have you no manners?” You ask, voice a huff that makes the satyr’s head tilt in the other direction. He blinks a few times before his eyes widen in excitement, mouth dropping open as he takes you in.

“You’re a…” his voice delves off, as he realizes what kind of fairy you must be. One he’s only heard of in tales, ones that are as old as time. He can’t believe he’s seeing one in real time, much less almost eating one!

“Give me your name, and I’ll forgive your indiscretion.” You offer him, chin jutting out in his direction. He knows he shouldn’t, knows you guys are full of tricks, that he should only admire from afar. But you’re so pretty in that ethereal type of way, and so, so tiny in his hands, that he wonders just how much damage you could actually cause. So he bites the bullet, doesn’t even realize that with just a name, he’s sealed his fate.

“Izuku. My name is Izuku.”

Izuku, or Deku as he likes to be called, has become so subservient to you as the days go on. Carries you everywhere, despite your wings working perfectly fine. Feeds you the fruit from trees without a single complaint, bathes you in the lakes despite his face always turning so red.

He even touches you the way you like to be touched. Lets you stay in his palm, figure hidden behind thick trees, a patch in the openness of the forest where only you two reside. He holds his thickest finger above you, watches with intent vermillion eyes as you lay on your back in his palm, rubbing your tiny little clit all over the pad of his finger. He could crush you in this position, but all he can think of is how immoral it would be to kill an ancient fairy from trying to shove you on his too big cock.

And despite using his big fingers to get you off for so long, it still isn’t enough. He’s surprised, one dusky morning, when he enters that patch in the forest that’s become you guys’ special spot, and doesn’t find you sleeping on a leaf. No, instead, Deku finds someone who looks eerily like you, only bigger in size—so, so much bigger.

Your hair looks so soft and your skin glows an eery golden haze around it. Your wings look iridescent in the slithers of morning light, as they flap lightly when he enters the thicket. Your body is bare, and it only feels that much intenser when everything is so much bigger, so easier to see in the broadening of your skin.

Your eyes are devious, with a downright cruel smile. You stretch where you lay, yawning a little, flipping on your back as you look at Izuku upside down, body bare and on display. It makes him think back to how hard he would have to strain to look in between your legs, now looking away at just how clear everything is.

“It’s time to prove your usefulness to me, Izuku. Are you ready?” You ask in a voice so sultry, he thinks he might melt on the spot. He should’ve known better than to give an ancient fairy his name, knows he’s spellbound to you and your every wish for eternity. But a part of him wishes he only would’ve met you sooner.

“I’m more than ready.”

[noxexistant]

thinking about. aro oscar. being told by his & morris’ parents and wiesel and everybody else his whole life that he’s going to have to stop coddling his brother someday, he’s going to have to leave his brother entirely, because he’s going to have to marry.

find a woman and marry her, start his own family - like his real family of morris wouldn’t or doesn’t count anymore. and oscar is as confused as he is angry, because why the hell would he ever leave morris at all, but particularly to go…find a girl. marry her, live with her, be with her until one of them dies. have kids. he doesn’t want that. does anyone want that? is he supposed to want that?

he can’t conceptualise the type of relationship that seems to be expected of him - expected of everyone. seeing glimpses of it confuses him, in passers-by on the streets or the newsies at work or in characters in books, and he doesn’t even have his own parents to reflect on as a familiar example because they never loved each other either. but he’ll ignore it just like he ignores every other expectation and bit of normalcy him and morris can’t fit into, another bit of the outside world that doesn’t seem to have room for them. they have each other, just them - that’s all they’ve ever needed.

but then morris starts getting crushes on guys as he gets older. his gaze lingers on them, and he starts smiling all shy when they look his way when he never used to smile at anyone but oscar, and oscar’s even more confused, but he also feels betrayed. because he thought it was him and morris both that were wrong, like it always is and always has been, but maybe it is just him. something missing from him that morris got to keep.

not that it matters, he knows, with some strange mix of bitterness and gratitude. they’ll both have to stay like this anyway - just the two of them together. because, even if he wanted to, morris could never be with a boy the way they’re both supposed to be with girls. he couldn’t marry one, couldn’t even try and flirt with one the way most guys flirt with girls. he don’t seem to like girls either, just like oscar don’t, so it doesn’t matter. they’ll stick with each other. maybe not both wrong in the same way this time, but still both wrong, like they always are.

oscar keeps telling himself that, as morris’ gaze keeps sticking to guys as they pass, the newsies as they chatter and laugh, men at their stalls and shops, his eyes alight with longing and heartache and loneliness like oscar can’t soothe. can’t even feel himself. so he tells morris to stop it instead - he can’t be like that, they can’t be like that. it’s no use staring at what he can’t have, just like oscar used to tell him when he’d be staring in the windows of fancy candy makers and toy shops. he keeps pulling morris away from men who try to talk to him, and watches him like a hawk when he’s interacting with the newsies around his age.

they’ll be alone together.

[dahldahlbills]

nano day 20-25

20- 1952

21- 771

22- 643

23&24- 0 (don’t look at meeee I didn’t have time lol)

25- 2233

Total word count: 32149, 25885 towards main wip (!!!)

I didn’t realize how many days had gone by without updating lol but it’s fine bc it’s not like anyone’s really keeping track

anyway it’s v apparent I’m not hitting the 50k BUT IT’S OKAY! I’ve made peace with it. It was p dumb of me to start the month going “I just wanna write as much as I can” bc obv I was setting myself up for disappointment. So if I’m able to reach just 30k on my main wip, I’ll be happy.

Also patting myself on the back for reaching +25k, I think the 30k will be v feasible with the remaining 5 days. That’s <1k a day!

Also finished the 12th scene! We’re over a third of the way through the project :D (which admittedly is around where I hit my typical story middle slump, but I’m hoping I can remain consistent after November)

[explanationpoint]

the poem // the poet

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 05:56 P.M 」

this has been rotting in my drafts for like months :'D based on a suggestion idea a while back—how gojo will definitely land himself in a police station, and since i have no better fic to share yet, i'll just post this :')

a part of gojo's love entries

everyone—or particularly, nanami—has warned you that marrying gojo satoru is going to be far from easy.

and true, less than a month since the two of you were married, he had landed himself in a police station. police station! of all places!

still, you were worried when you got the call, but when you rushed inside the place, all your worries—

“i’m telling you! i’m innocent!”

“sir, please don’t raise your voice here!”

“YOU are raising your voice against me!”

—evaporated. because… what the hell?

satoru, looking cross as if he owned the whole precinct, sat with his legs crossed high. he wore all black and his eyes was covered by that stupid blindfold. and with that haughty attitude, if someone accused him of being a suspicious person, now you would totally understand.

you were fuming as you stomped to where he was. “satoru!”

“oh?!” he turned to you with a wide grin, then to the officer in front of him, pointing at you. “look! i’ve been telling you. i have a wife— and there she is!”

the officer eyed you suspiciously as if he wanted to confirm your identity, and you huffed. “it pains me to admit that i’m his wife—”

“wha?! it ‘pains’ you?! i’m hurt!”

“—but yes, i am. officer, what do i have to do to get him out here?”

you could’ve sworn the officer gave you a look of pity. “ma’am, so we received a report that your… err, husband, was publicly harassing two students—”

you widened your eyes, turning to him accusingly. “you—!”

“i was not!” satoru fiercely interrupted, eyeing the police with clear disdain. “if i want to harass girls, shouldn’t i harass my wife first?!”

you were speechless as you shot him a look of disbelief.

“but sir, the girls said that you have been ‘leering’ at them—”

“i was just passing by! i didn’t even look at them! and when i have a wife this hot—” satoru wildly gestured at you with both hands. “what use is anything else?!”

dear lord. please give me strength. you felt like losing your head over this as you clutched your temple.

“sir, you’re being too loud!”

“i’m telling you, you’re slandering me! that’s crime too!”

this was utter chaos and you finally had enough. “both of you, just...” you breathed out— “shut up!”

both the police and your husband looked at you in surprise as you glared at them with so much ire they would have never expected out of you.

in the end, to settle this fiasco, you ended up paying the fine.

“wifey... forgive me, please?”

satoru dejectedly followed you from behind like a sad puppy as you entered your home. “please? don’t be mad at me...”

you suddenly stopped in your tracks, before whirling to face him, squinting one eye. “you got arrested, made a fool out of yourself, and i bailed you out. so, give me three good reasons why i shouldn’t be mad at you.”

“uh, w-wait...”

“three, two—”

“i-i’m a good kisser! i let you have my body!” he blurted in panic. “and oh—while at it, i also satisfy you sooo well in bed!”

how did you end up with a clown for a husband? despite yourself, you almost laughed at his response, and satoru obviously saw it as a sign of him succeeding. and before you knew it, he leaned and pecked you in the lips.

“look at you, you just smiled!” he giddily grinned as he pulled away. “i’m right, aren’t i!?”

“ha ha...” you let out an exasperated sigh, suppressing your laugh and faint heat in your face at the same time. “satoru...”

his eyes were practically shining. “yes?!”

“you and couch. tonight.”

[i2sunric]

𝐋𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘 (s.jy)

PAIRING: horny!jake x succubus!reader (f)

SUMMARY: jake has always been an hyper sexual type boy, always seeking relief in the depth of night. but his hand isn't as satisfying anymore and neither are his toys, and in his moment of desperation, you appear like a gift sent from heaven (or hell).

WARNINGS: kinktober. succubus (a sexual demon), masturbating, pillow humping, riding, overstimulation, messy blow job, jake is kinda sub, doggy, missionary, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), cream pie, dirty talking, manhandling, (idk if there’s a slight cnc?), slight choke kink, jake whines and whimpers (we like), cum eating, oral (m receiving), pussy licking, pet names (jakey, baby), lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 20th October 2024

WC: 2.9k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emislove @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove (oneshot) @leov3rse @eileenville @roastandtoast @heeaxvhhoon @doublebunv @ancnymcnzjy @heartynoo @rii7eis7 @lyxnneee @yunahszx

a/n: i literally have 8 drafts for kinktober but i’m not sure i’ll be able to finish them all (sorry). i don’t even really like how this one came out but i thought i owned y’all some new fics since i’ve been ia for a while. please REBLOG to spread bcs only likes don’t take authors so far. thank you 🩷

Jake was resting on his bed, or so he tried to. His back was against the mattress, the only light illuminating the room was the one of the moon, entering from the window as if to peek to his desperation.

Fact was, he had been a painful hard on the whole day and fate wanted that he couldn’t seem to make himself come.

It was true when they said that as you overdo something, you grow tired of it, because his hand had stopped working a couple of weeks before, which led him to the sex shop downtown to purchase a couple of toys.

And they worked, for the following couple of days until the empty feeling after jerking off hadn’t come back.

“Ugh…” He muttered to himself, he was desperate at this point.

His entire body felt hot with arousal, the air around him getting stuffy. It was a wonder how his hand hadn’t fallen off from all the wanking he had done in the past week.

Jake was left with a raging bulge making fun of him through the fabric of his sweats, his cock so hard it was even painful to exist.

He grabbed his phone from off to the side, opening up the internet in hopes of finding something to satisfy his needs. He began scrolling on a pornography site, a small sigh escaping from his mouth as he quickly found something he liked.

It was a rather soft porn, just a ‘morning sex’ one, he skipped all the intro until it got to the good part.

Jake slowly pulled down his sweats, just enough to free his cock from the restraints of the clothing.

He hadn’t even worn his boxers to bed, feeling suffocated.

He raised the volume of the video, holding his phone with one hand while he started to touch himself with the other.

He was sensitive, slowly pumping his shaft up and down. As the moans of the video got louder and the boy fucked the girl harder into the mattress, he too tried to fast his pace— and nothing.

Jake continued his search, even going to the hidden pictures of his galleries where he kept screenshots of his favourite porns of all times.

Nothing seemed to work on him, nothing brought him enough pleasure to get him off.

Jake groaned loudly and threw his phone on the mattress, far away from him.

He stared at his cock as if it had personally offended him, it stood proud and angry red in front of him.

Suddenly, an idea flashed in his mind.

If hand didn’t work, and neither did the kinky toys he got, he’d have to try the traditional way of fucking a pillow.

He grabbed the pillow from behind his head and turned around, his chest now pressed onto the mattress.

Jake rested his head on the other, smaller pillow while he raised his backside, enough to make a makeshift hole of the pillow.

He inserted his aching cock and thrusted his hips, slowly. The fabric of the pillow touching his length made him moan softly. He tried to imagine someone being under him, someone letting him rut his cock inside of them.

Just as he focused on the small pleasure he got, a giggle made his eyes widen in surprise.

Peeking from behind his shoulder, he noticed a red figure.

“What—“ Jake turned around, covering his dignity with the pillow (as if he wasn’t just grinding on it). There was no way someone had entered his bedroom, or his house in general. He remembered he had locked all the doors before going to bed, so how did you get inside?

You stood in front of the bed, looking at him with a wide smile on your face. Your skin was reddish, and you had small horns on your head, as well as a tail moving left and right, as if you were amused by the scene you had just witnessed.

“Hey,” You purred, waving your hand at him “Having fun there?”

“Who are you?” He asked, moving into a sitting position “Or… what are you?”

Your body was barely covered by a brown top and a pair shorts of the same colour, making your curves and body perfectly visible.

Lord, if you weren’t such an arousing sight. Had he been in the right mind, and not clouded by lust, he would’ve realised you were a succubus.

A demon that got its power from having sex with desperate men in the middle of the night, taking strength by their semen. Your body was meant to make him horny.

“Don’t worry about it...” You raised a brow, as if to ask, him for his name.

Jake understood and cleared his throat “Jake.”

You smiled happily “Jake, what a pretty name for a pretty boy!” You exclaimed.

“I am Y/N.” You introduced yourself, placing a hand on your chest, clearly making his attention go to your tits.

He nodded in reply, his eyes ranking over your figure warily “So.. what are you?”

You just rolled your eyes. “It doesn’t matter, I’m here to help you.” You bit your bottom lip “Don’t hide from me.”

Jake glanced down at where the pillow was hiding his lower body and let out a shaky breath.

He debated whether to listen to you or try and get some more answers out of you— but you were so willingly giving your help to him, he couldn’t just refuse you. Not after he had waited for this moment so long.

Cautiously, he removed the pillow, showing his cock that sprang free.

Your eyes widened and your mouth watered. “Aren’t you huge?” You complimented, loving the way it throbbed at your comment.

Just the sight of your perfect body made some precum leak from the tip, and you knew he must’ve been so pent up he was suffering.

“You don’t have a pussy to bury your pretty cock in?” You purred, slowly crawling on the bed.

“N-no.” Jake replied.

“It’s okay,” You stated, slowly pumping his shaft “You can use mine.”

Just your mere touch made his mind grow foggy, your pretty palm wrapped around his length.

He moaned softly as you spat on it, using your saliva to lubricate the skin.

Jake’s eyes fluttered shut, it just felt so good to finally be touched by something that wasn’t his own hand, and he whimpered when your mouth wrapped around him.

It was so warm and it felt so good, the way you slowly moved up and down, bobbing your head to pleasure him.

Without even him realising, his hand had moved to your hair, grasping your locks as he thrusted upwards.

In a way, you liked how desperate he was. Your power was lowering the past few days and he was just what you needed— a horny college student in desperate need of filling some nice pussy.

Oh, if only he knew your true intentions.

His hips began to move as he held you still, fucking your mouth like you were a flesh light. Though you felt even better.

You gagged around his length and the sound only fuelled his contorted desires. “Mh— fuck.” He moaned, his hips snapping back and forth “So good,” Jake breathed out “So fucking good.”

You decided to hollow your cheeks and let him use you, one of your hands moving inside your panties to lazily circle your clit. You were already dripping wet, while he was leaking precum inside your mouth, filling your taste buds with a bittersweet taste.

“I’m so close, M’gonna— Oh!” He groaned loudly as he shot his thick load down your throat, his cock pulsating inside your mouth as he pushed your head down further. You palmed his balls, just adding to the overwhelming pleasure he felt.

You could almost feel him whole down your throat, you frowned as you tried your best not to gag around it.

After a couple of seconds, he let you go, his breath heavy as he tried to regain strength.

You pulled away and licked your lips, loving the sweet taste of his cum.

And as you looked down, you noticed he was already hard. You widened your eyes, a smirk forming on your lips.

But Jake wasn’t as lust-high as he had been when you found him humping his night pillow, and he sat up properly.

With one swift movement he grabbed your throat, making sure not to squeeze it too tight and he pressed his plump lips on yours.

As surprised as you were, you quickly recovered and reciprocated the kiss, teeth crashing and tongues swiping one on the other.

His free hand snuck between your thighs, feeling your wetness, making him swallow your moan.

“So wet for me, mh?” Jake murmured on your lips, helping you out of your tight shorts “Let me give you back your favours.”

You felt his finger press against your entrance but you stopped him. You certainly didn’t need any prepping, the only thing you needed was him shooting his cum deep inside of you.

But that, he didn’t need to know, so you just whined “Need you inside of me Jakey, please.”

“Yeah?” He retrieved his hand, manhandling you into the mattress. He crashed your head on the pillow - yes, the one he was fucking just a few minutes before - and held your ass up.

It was cute how he thought he was in charge, but you didn’t mind being dominated, so you let him be.

He opened your asscheeks with his slender fingers and licked a long stripe out of your folds, making you moan.

“Hurry,” You pressed your backside further into his face, making Jake slap your asscheek.

Had your skin not been already red, his slap would’ve left an angry mark. But you liked it, so you pressed your ass against him again.

Jake groaned, slapping the same asscheek that left a burning sensation cursing through your body.

He moved up, quickly discarding his shirt and sweatpants, throwing them somewhere on the floor. “Want a condom?” You almost laughed at his question, reaching a hand to pull him close, you hissed “Give it to me raw.”

He felt himself grow even harder at your dirty talk, he pumped his shaft and pressed it against your clit, gathering all your sweet juices.

You hummed softly at the teasing, needing him to be inside of you, that thick cock to press against your cervix and making you see the heaven you weren’t allowed in.

With one quick thrust, Jake slammed all of himself inside of you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

It was true that you didn’t need any prepping, having done this for a living - literally - but you felt him whole, “S’deep.” You sighed.

Jake moaned at how your walls hugged him, squeezing any drop of precum, swallowing his full length.

He pulled out just to slam back inside, gripping your asscheeks. “Fuck,” He breathed out, his pace already quickening as he tried to chase both of your highs.

“You like it deep, baby?” He asked, “You like it feeling me so deep inside of ya?”

You nodded, reaching your hand behind to touch him, but Jake got ahold of your wrists and held both of them behind your back.

The position would’ve been uncomfortable if you weren’t so aroused, it’d been a while since you were fucked hard and Jake seemed like the best victim you had in ages.

“Pussy so good,” He grunted, eyes squeezing as he felt himself near the edge “So fucking perfect, baby.”

You tried to peek at him from behind your shoulder, and Jake noticed. He gave you a sly wink and let go of your wrists, pulling out of you to turn you around.

Your back was now on the mattress, the human spread your legs wide as he aligned with your entrance once again.

He positioned your legs on his shoulders and quickly got inside again, as if he were addicted to being in you, his balls slapped against your ass.

“Better, ain’t it?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him down to you to kiss his lips “I get to see your pretty face as I fill you up with my cum.” The angle you were bent was awkward but you didn’t really care.

The thought made you clench around him and Jake groaned in your mouth, his cock rutting fast and deep.

The squelching sound of skin slapping filled the room, for once Jake was glad of owning a house and not an apartment, or the neighbours would’ve had already come to complain.

He held your throat with his veiny hands, adding just the right amount of pressure to make you light-headed.

“Jakey,” You breathed out, mouth agape “Want your cum, give it to me.”

Your words only fuelled his desire, he sped his movements - if it was even possible - his face contorted in pleasure as he felt his orgasm approach.

“Yes, yes, M’gonna give it to you, baby,” He chanted out, his cock throbbing “Fuck— I’m gonna fill you up so good.”

He rested his forehead against your shoulder and squeezed your clothed breast, kneading at the soft flesh.

His movements became sloppy until with one last, deep thrust he came deep inside of you.

“Yes!” You breathed out, as his cum flooded inside of you, you could feel yourself growing stronger, your powers returning.

Jake’s movements grew slower until they stopped, his laboured breath tickled your skin.

He was tired, strangely so, he pulled out of you and laid beside you “Shit, this was the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

His eyes closed as exhaustion washed over him, but you weren’t done.

Oh, you were far from done.

First, you hadn’t come yet and second, you needed more of his semen.

You climbed on top of him, smiling at his fucked up state. He looked so pretty with messy hair, swollen lips and red cheeks.

Jake slowly opened his eyes, widening them a little as he took you in “Y/N? What are you— Fuck.”

He groaned loudly as you fisted his softened cock, wanting him to get hard again so you could ride him.

“S-stop.” He gripped your hand but you were stronger than him now, shoving it away “Shh, I’ll make you feel good, pinky promise.”

You chuckled within yourself, slowly grinding your wet pussy on his hardening length.

Jake sighed, his hands lazily holding your hips “You need to cum, baby?”

You hummed, your fingers grazing his happy trail “Mh… yes, will you make me?”

Jake nodded, his eyes half lidded “I can use my tongue, no need to…” He grunted as you lifted yourself and held his dick up, slowly lowering on him.

As you bottomed out, you moaned, the shadow of his bulge peeking through your stomach.

You threw your head back, his cock sliding in and out easily thanks to your wetness and his previous orgasm still lingering inside of you.

“M-too sensitive baby, please…” You chuckled, “You can take another one.”

His brows furrowed as you alternated between moving up and down and grinding him, his nails digging in the skin of your hips.

“So? Can you take another one, mh?” Jake sighed, nodding his head weakly “Y-yes.”

“Atta’ boy.” You exclaimed, rewarding him by riding him faster.

Jake felt all of your movements, the overwhelming sensation making his body rock with tremors “Can’t… can’t.”

“No, you can.” You grasped his shoulders and moved your hips almost frantically, your clit brushing against his skin.

His body tensed, his feet flexing and relaxing, “Fuck… I’m gonna cum again.”

You bit your bottom lip, feeling your climax reach as well “Mh… give it all to me, Jakey.”

His hands moved to your breasts as he squeezed them to the point of pain, you clenched around him and he snapped.

His cum shot inside of you, his cock throbbing painfully as he came for the third time of the night.

He whimpered when you didn’t stop, trying to move you away but you didn’t, you just kept moving until you saw white as well.

Your legs trembled as you reached your euphoria, while Jake’s body collapsed whole on the bed.

His eyes slowly closed, too tired to even stay awake. He slowly succumbed to sleeping.

You smiled victoriously, feeling your powers raise even more. Standing up, you let the remaining of his semen drop out of you and stretched.

Sighing contentedly, you reached for your discarded shorts and put them back on.

“I’m feeling so refreshed!” You smiled happily, but as you turned around you saw Jake’s slumped figure on the mattress.

Feeling pitiful, since he seemed so vulnerable, you covered his naked body with the blanket. Smiling at his face, you noticed he really was a pretty guy.

You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek, moving some hair out of his sticky forehead.

“See you soon, Jakey.” You smirked and disappeared, with the intention of coming back to him whenever you felt weak. Which, maybe would’ve happened more often.

[daycourtofficial]

His shadows know

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 3.8k | Warnings: none

Summary: His shadows knew you were mates before either of you did and they do everything they can to push the two of you together.

Author’s note: happy 2k kick off day!!! 🎉 this is actually the oldest draft I have - I began writing this in October I think? I loved the idea but got stuck for so long on where to take it so shout out to @tsunami-of-tears for reading it and giving me feedback - this story would be lost to time without you thank you thank you thank you

Being a scholar in the Winter Court had several perks - your home had a rich and deep history, you spent most of your time reading, and you became great friends with your High Lord and newly appointed High Lady - Kallias and Viviane. Your friendship had great perks, one of which was their allowance for you to travel with them to the Night Court. 

Rhysand had spent centuries keeping up the appearance that it was a terrible place to live, that the people were terrible, everything was terrible, leading to none of the high lords ever spending time in the Night Court. After Velaris became known to the other high lords, Viviane wrote immediately to Mor asking for the chance to see the city of starlight. Mor immediately agreed, also requesting for you to come as well. You and Mor were friendly, but she liked you and knew you would love the city.

The three of you winnowed together, being greeted by Rhys, Feyre, and Mor upon your arrival. After some pleasantries, Kallias and Rhysand started speaking about some political matter, so you slipped out and started wandering around the palace, admiring the beautiful architecture and paintings lining the walls. Many portraits hung in front of you - some depicting battles, some depicting members of the royal family. 

You were stopped at a beautiful portrait of their newest addition, Nyx, when you felt a little tug on your arm. You looked down to find the cutest little blob of darkness dancing around your arm. It tickled as it swirled and skittered across your skin. The little shadow made the rounds around your body, swirling around your arms, your waist, your legs - as if it was checking to make sure everything’s okay.

“You are adorable” you whispered to it, when a second and third one appeared. “How many of you are there?” You whispered, unsure if it can even respond.

“There’s no keeping count of them. Or keeping track of them, I suppose.”

The voice startles you and the shadows, who wrap around you, almost trying to guide you to the voice. You turn to see the most devastatingly beautiful male you’ve ever seen - dark, sun-kissed skin covered large muscular arms, massive membranous wings behind him. Light poured behind him allowing the wings to look almost pink from the stretched skin, but everywhere else behind him was cloaked in shadows that moved lazily, slithering across his shoulders.

Hazel eyes look down at you, a smirk on his face.

“Are you in charge of them, I suppose?” You ask, a smile grazing your lips.

“I wouldn’t say that. They don’t always listen to me. They seem to like you, though.”

While you were speaking, a few more joined to inspect you, fast blurs of darkness roaming your skin leaving goosebumps in their cold wake.

“Hmm, maybe they see me as a threat. I can be quite frightening, you know.”

“Frightening? Yes, I can see you’re trying to pinpoint your next target. Unfortunately, I do believe you are wasting your time. Studying Nyx’s portrait won’t help you determine his weaknesses.”

“I’ve actually uncovered quite a lot about his weaknesses from his portrait.”

“Pray tell,” he leans against the wall, studying your face.

“I think his weaknesses include both nap time and bed time, along with his incredibly short legs. Dare I say, he’d be very easy to pick up and maneuver.”

“Unfortunately, you’ve picked a target that is so heavily protected you may never get the chance to see him.”

Your face lights up in delight, “so I am a frightening threat? Why else go through the trouble to hide him from me?”

“Nyx doesn’t like strangers,” his tone was so matter of fact, the shadows peered over his shoulders to watch the exchange.

“Hmm, you could introduce us. Then it’ll be a fair fight.”

“Unfortunately for you, I believe he is napping. And disturbing him from a nap is the worst part of my job.”

“So it is part of your job to wake him up?”

“I have to train him against all these frightening threats that wander the halls.”

“I only see one frightening threat.”

The shadows began dancing between you two, pulling you both closer and closer, until you realized you could put your hand out and touch his face. Your fingers twitched slightly at the intrusive thought.

“And does this frightening threat have a name.”

“Y/n.”

He smiles at your name - you assume he already knew who you were, he just wanted you to say it for whatever reason.

“And does the one who has the terrifying job of waking Nyx have a name?”

“Azriel.”

“And you also aren’t in charge of the shadows, but you provide them with suggestions?”

He laughs as he says, “They usually listen to me, especially when I command them, but sometimes they just find something they like and want to investigate.”

“Is that what happened? They wanted to investigate me?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Did they like what they found out in their investigation?”

“Sometimes they investigate pretty things or things they’ve never seen before. They won’t tell me why they came after you, but they tell me they like you.”

“Can you tell them that I like them? Or can they hear me when I talk to them?”

“They can hear you, you just can’t really hear them.”

“They’re very beautiful.” You were talking about the shadows, of course. Definitely not also about the male in front of you.

“Yes they are.” He says, gazing into your eyes, perhaps speaking about more than just the shadows.

The spell between your shared gaze is broken when a door opens and Mor comes running down the hall. “Oh, good, Az found you. We thought you got lost somewhere,” she sounded out of breath, as if she were roaming the halls for you.

“I’m sorry, Mor, you know I love to wander.” You look at Azriel, his hazel eyes meeting your gaze. “You never know what you’ll find.”

-

It had been a long day. Velaris was stunning, a beautiful gem in an otherwise terrifying sounding court, but you desperately need a warm bath and a few moments of peace. You adored Viviane and Kallias, but you needed to be away from him for a few hours. You needed peace and quiet.

And maybe a few moments to think about the beautiful male you were flirting with earlier.

You prepared yourself a bath, lowering your entire body into the warm water. You tilt your head back, enjoying the warmth on your aching muscles from walking around the palace all day, when you see out of the corner of your eye a tiny little shadow.

“Hello, sweetie,” you coo towards it. You can’t help it - they’re absolutely adorable. They remind you of little pets, but less messy or noisy. One or two of them had followed you around during the day. You weren’t sure if anyone else noticed or not, especially because you didn’t see Azriel again for the rest of the day.

The shadow came to the edge of the bathtub, climbing up your arm, nestling into your hair. “You are a silly little thing aren’t you?” You ask it, with no response. “Will you ever speak to me?” You ask, again with no response. “Will you keep me company?” The shadow didn’t necessarily respond, but you felt the shadow’s agreement as it nestled further into your hair as you sank into the bath once more.

After your bath, with the shadow still keeping you company, you put on a nightgown and decided you wanted to go down to the kitchen to look for some cookies, certain that Rhysand would only have the highest quality of late night snacks. You reiterate your thoughts to the shadow, when the shadow holds you back by your wrist for a moment.

“Is everything alright?” The shadow keeps a hold on you, not letting you go. A moment or two passes, and the shadow lets go, causing you to move forward a little. “I can go now?” You ask, which the shadow ignores again, but doesn’t keep you in place any longer. You walk to the door, opening it only to collide directly into someone.

“I’m so sorry I-“ you’re cut off by the laugh of the beautiful Azriel.

“It’s okay,” he says, and you take this opportunity to glance down and you realize he’s wearing a loose pair of trousers with no shirt on. His bare chest was just as beautiful as the rest of him - black ink trailed across his shoulders in an abstract way that your eyes lingered on. If you weren’t so preoccupied by checking him out, you might have noticed the shadows surrounding him, trying to slow him down.

A small blush creeps down your cheeks as you ask, “is your uh tiny general happy and napping?”

He smirks and says “well I’m not sure about how happy he is, but Cassian is definitely asleep. He’s kept on a separate floor because of how loud he snores.”

You hit him in the chest, “you know I wasn’t talking about - wait he sleeps on a different floor? Is it really that bad?”

He motions for you to follow him up the stairs, and before you’re even halfway up, you hear impossibly loud snoring. “Oh,” you giggle, “yeah I’m not sure how anyone sleeps in the same city block as him.”

“You have no idea. Cassian’s really susceptible to pollen, so during the spring time it’s absolutely ridiculous. We once banned him for a week so we could all sleep.”

You laugh, and then try to shush yourself so he doesn’t wake up. “Stop - if I laugh I’ll wake him up.”

“What are you doing up?” He asks, his hazel eyes looking down at you with such fondness you wanted to curl up in his gaze and rest in it for a while.

“Oh I wanted cookies, actually.” You reply. “Why are you awake?”

He stammers a little, not wanting you to know that he was walking by your door to see if you were still awake. He had wanted to see you again, your earlier encounter occupying his thoughts all day long, when he assumed you had turned in for the night.

“Uh, I was doing a patrol.” He settled on.

“Oh yeah? Wanted to make sure the terrifying threat was contained?”

He smirked, “what do you think I’m doing now? I figure if I feed the threat, it might spare me.” He gives you the sweetest looking puppy dog face, and you have no idea where it came from, but it absolutely melts your heart.

“Stop that!” you say, while hitting his chest.

“Stop what?” He says, continuing his pouting.

“You look like a sad puppy dog, stop!”

“Will it make the frightening threat not want to kill me?”

“Hmm, the frightening threat will leave you be, for now.”

You two head into the kitchen, and he immediately starts searching through cupboards.

“Mor and Cassian have the best cookies,” he says, while reaching the higher shelves to pull out random boxes that contain cookie tins.

“I didn’t know being a spymaster included knowing everyone’s taste in cookies.” 

“You never know what might become necessary information.”

He looked down at you, offering you a cookie. You accepted it, and as your hands were connected by the cookie, a few shadows danced around your arms to some unheard song. He seemed a little surprised at them, his mouth dropping just slightly.

“Are they always this kind to night court guests?” You asked, nibbling on the cookie.

“Only the pretty ones.”

“And do you always flirt with night court guests?”

He leaned in closer, “only the pretty ones.”

You took a step closer, until you’re almost touching noses.

“And do you always commit crimes with your guests?”

His breath was fanning your face. It smelled of sugar cookie and mint, and you think about what it would feel like to inhale him.

“Only you.”

He pulled out a cookie and offered it to your mouth, which you happily accepted. You don’t break eye contact as you grab the cookie with your mouth, pulling it from his fingers.

“I can’t say I’ve indulged in criminal activity with anyone else.”

His grin grows as you bite into the cookie, a few crumbs falling but a few shadows swoop down to catch them before depositing them in the trash.

“Good. I am in charge of catching criminals in the night court, and I’d hate to have to catch you and lock you up.”

A blush spread over your cheeks. You opened your mouth to respond, when Azriel straightened, his wings going rigid.

“Hide the evidence.” He whispered, as he pulled back and quietly put the cookies away back where they came from. Before you can ask him about the abrupt change, you hear loud footsteps coming down the stairs into the kitchen, before seeing Cassian appear.

He looked at the two of you, surprised that anyone else was awake at this hour. Now he was hoping the two of you wouldn’t stay too long so he could reach his secret stash of cookies.

-

During the afternoon the next day, your little shadow companion kept following you around, almost acting as a guide dog. When you came down for breakfast, it guided you into the seat next to where Azriel was sitting, even guiding your hand to grab an apple at the same time as him, causing your fingers to brush against each other. 

Currently the shadow was dragging you through the hallways of the house, into what appeared to be a massive library. It guided you to sit in a chair at a table where there seemed to be some paperwork piled on top. The shadow left you for a moment, returning with a book for you.

“Ah, thank you,” you say, petting at the shadow. It curled around your finger in reciprocation before slithering back into your hair. You began reading the book, only getting a chapter in when someone sat across the table from you.

“The threat has found where I liked to do work,” Azriel stated, looking through his papers. You smiled up at him, “I have to be prepared to strike at any moment, you know.”

He chuckled, a soft look on his face. “Well, if you plan to attack in the library, please try to keep noise levels to a minimum, Clotho gets very upset when I cause too much noise. I’m on thin ice with her.”

“Oh, I see. You have a reputation for hosting parties down here,” you muse.

He looks at you, a lazy grin on his face, “my parties are known across Prythian, only the best, most exclusive guests may attend my library events.”

“And am I on the guest list?” You ask, leaning against the table. “Of course,” he replied, leaning towards you over the table, “you might be a threat, but I’ve heard you’re one hell of a dancer.”

You laugh loudly, then remember where you are and try to quiet down. “I’ll have you know that I’m a lousy dancer, but I would be very interested in attending one of your parties anyway.”

-

The longer you stayed, the more the shadows kept maneuvering around you. Instead of just one you now had a small trio who accompanied you everywhere, hiding in your hair, wisping around your neck and wrists like jewelry when you were alone.

One night at dinner, you’re seated next to Azriel for the fourth evening in a row. You’re not sure if any of his family members pick up on this, but Kallias and Viviane also sit in the same place each night, so perhaps it wasn’t anything noteworthy.

“Can you pass me the potatoes please?”

You knew if you turned to the right, Azriel’s face would be right next to yours and your noses would be able to touch.

“Of course, can’t give you any reason not to trust me.” You winked at him, reaching over for the potatoes. When you turn back, Azriel’s expression has changed ever so slightly, and his eyes search for your face, something you can’t quite pinpoint in his eyes.

“Here you are,” you say, moving the bowl towards him.

“Here I am,” he says, not reaching for the bowl, instead keeping his gaze fixed on you. You laugh, expecting there to be some joke, but he keeps his gaze fixed on you and you find it impossible to breathe with the way he’s looking at you.

Surely someone else notices the way you two are locked in this embrace, but when you quickly glance around the table, no one seems to notice or care.

He reached for the potatoes and looked at them. “How can I be sure you didn’t poison these?”

You laugh, the spell of the moment gone, and you’re able to think properly again.

“I guess you’ll never know.”

He placed the bowl down, smirking. “Better not take any chances then.”

The rest of the dinner continued, everyone amused at Nyx’s babbling and insistence of sitting in Cassian’s lap despite how many times he’s put back into his own high chair, and yet your eyes kept finding those potatoes Azriel never ate, the bowl untouched since he took it from your hands.

-

A quick knock to your door the next morning stops you from packing, and you stride over to open it. “Hi, Azriel,” you say, leaving the door open for him to come in as you turn back around to put your folded clothes away. Several of his shadows move towards you, trying to unfold your clothes when you aren't looking.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, shutting the door behind him gently, turning back to you with his hands in his pockets. You swat at the shadows, refolding their undoing.

“Unfortunately, my trip always had an expiration date attached to it.”

You breathe deeply, trying to ignore how good he smells when you feel him come up behind you, his chest close enough that you can feel his body heat through your clothes. From behind you, he lifts one of his hands up, almost touching you, but not quite getting far enough before retracting his hand.

He clears his throat, “what did you think of my home court?”

You smile, doing the latches on your luggage. “It’s quite beautiful. Do you get all four seasons here?”

He nods his head in agreement when you turn to face him, not noticing the shadows behind you undoing the latches to your suitcase and unpacking once more for you. “That must be nice,” you muse, “I love Winter, but I am quite tired of the cold.”

“I’m used to the cold, growing up in the mountains you grow quite accustomed to it.”

“Then you’d feel comfortable visiting me in the Winter Court?”

Azriel’s ears reddened at the brazen ask, “I can’t imagine visiting you anywhere and not feeling at ease.”

It was your turn for your ears to redden, but Azriel doesn’t let the silence linger for long. 

“Before you go, can I tell you something?”

Surprise overcomes your face, intrigued by his question. You nod, desperate to know what he has to say before you leave. He looked behind you, watching his shadows unpack your bag and put your clothes back where they had come from in the drawers.

“I was very drawn to you when we first met.”

He clears his throat, his wings twitching with nerves. “I was literally dragged to you. I was winnowing elsewhere, but my shadows brought me next to you. I was intrigued why they’d do such a thing,” one of the offending shadows gently passes over his cheek before making its way to greet you.

“They’re funny little things. I thought they were just annoyed with me because I wasn’t sleeping. And then you spoke to me. You were so relaxed with me, immediately. It’s not- most fae aren’t relaxed around me. And I really liked you.”

“I like you too, Azriel.”

He holds up a hand, silently telling you he’s not quite finished. You hold your hands up in mock surrender, allowing him to continue.

“And then you were everywhere. In the hallway, next to me at meals, on the balconies when I landed. It’s like you knew where I’d be.

“Last night at dinner, when I asked you for the potatoes.. I didn’t eat them after you gave them to me.”

You cock your head to the side, confused at this admission over something as minor as potatoes. “Did you change your mind?”

“No, no. I just- I just- the second you were about to hand them to me, I felt it.”

“You felt it?” Confusion coursed through you, completely unsure of where he was going. You enunciated each word, curious over what ‘it’ was.

“I felt it.” His tone held more conviction, but you weren’t any less confused by what he was talking about.

“What did you feel?”

“This.” And you felt a sharp tug in your chest, pulling you towards him, almost knocking you off of your feet. You gasp, holding your arms out to steady yourself, your hands meeting his chest instead.

“That- what- I-“ you look around frantically, unsure exactly of what that was. You look up, finding soft, slight amusement in his hazel eyes. Shadows swarmed around the two of you, circling your arms, your legs, your fingers. They seemed to be saying something, and you closed your eyes to listen.

Mate. Mate. Mate. 

You close your eyes, looking deep into your chest, searching for that rope, that tether between your souls. It was shadow and ice, wrapped around each other for as far as you could see.

You gave it a sharp tug, and it was Azriel’s turn to lurch forward. You laugh at his stumbling, holding his elbows to keep him steady.

“Is your offer still valid - for me to visit you in Winter?”

“Only if I can come visit you here, mate.”

Azriel’s knees nearly gave out at the name, the title he’s wanted for centuries. And here you were, right in front of him. 

His hand moved hesitantly toward your face, lingering close enough that you could feel the chill from his hand. You nuzzled your cheek into his hand, looking up at him. This beautiful, kind male was your mate.

You had known him for four days - you hardly knew him, hardly knew anything about him or his homeland. But that was okay. You knew his shadows well enough by now.

They were a pretty good judge of character.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading! 💕

[kupidachillea]

Olympians x You (hcs or imagines)

Author note: Geez, it’s been awhile. Sorry, I’ve been in bit of a funk, got both writers block and art block but I just want to drop this. I still have a few things in my drafts, but for now I’ll feed you guys this.

TW (trigger warning):This may have a few Yandere themes in it. And while the Olympians themselves aren’t really yanderes- they do share similar tendencies considering their myths. Please note that this isn’t completely accurate to their mythology- but it’s just a bit of fun so please take no offence and be nice in the comments.

CW (content warning)⚠️: readers either 17-18+ (to read this I mean), light mentions of nudity, molesting and sexual harassment, toxic behaviour. General (hinted) Yandere behaviour. Reader’s discretion is advised.

🏺- You weren’t sure how you got here but somehow you ended up on mount Olympus of all places.

🪡- Your brain was fuzzy and you hadn’t yet registered the 12 + looming faces above you. When you did notice, they were bickering in a language you didn’t understand (or at the very least, understood a little). It was jarring and you were still trying to get your bearings.

-🏺 You noticed one of them, a woman, dressed in garments fit for royalty (in ancient times at least) and had somewhat of a peacock aesthetic to it, yelling and pointing accusingly at a man, presumably her husband. She didn’t seem happy. Hera. Queen of the Olympians..that means the other must’ve been Zeus..oh boy

🪡- Zeus looked as if he was trying to quell his wife’s anger before things got more out of hand. There were a few others in the back that looked bored of the situation- as if a similar thing has happened before, while others looked mildly amused.

🏺- Despite all that- the argument seemed to have turned completely to you. Hera turning her rage towards you. “You! Where did you come from, how did you arrive here!?” She’d ask in anger, it was evident she had very little patience if any at all, thankfully though she was now speaking a language you could understand. You scrambled to answer her, your body trembling slightly at how her voice shook the marble floor you were sat on.

🪡- You tried to explain to her that you didn’t know how you got here. Your brain still fuzzy with images that didn’t clear up or make sense. This obviously didn’t help the Queen’s anger and you could see her patience slipping. She would scoff and turn back towards the other gods, them discussing what they should do with you.

🏺 - Some suggestions were thrown around, some you weren’t so fond of. Multiple times did they suggest either killing you or throwing you off the mountain (which would kill you anyway). However those ideas were shut down immediately by more ‘kindhearted’ gods. This hasn’t happened in centuries- a human spawning on top of their mountain out of the blue..they aren’t really prepared for this.

🪡- They were almost all out of ideas, until one golden haired music deity bent down to your height and took a closer look at you. His eyes shining as he took in your appearance before a smile started to work its way on his lips. “How about we keep them..?” He suddenly asked, his gaze still set on the little (little to them anyway) human in front of him.

🏺- This made everyone pause and even you were shocked by the suggestion. You found it ridiculous and you argued that despite how flattering it was- you didn’t want to stay with them and you wanted to be returned back to your home. The gods only seemed to ignore you, as if you were a child having an unreasonable temper tantrum. They were all considering keeping you here!

🪡- “Well…” Hermes started. You could tell since he was a bit shorter than the others and he had his signature winged sandals. “It has been quite awhile since the gods have had a plaything..” he would mutter reluctantly. He wasn’t entirely sold on the idea, despite how his father and brothers (most anyway) were grinning like idiots. You, obviously , did not appreciate being referred to as a plaything.

🏺- “Then it is settled..this little one shall be our new plaything!” Zeus grinned, a little too happy for both yours and Hera’s taste. You were about to give them a piece of your mind but was swiftly silenced by a threatening gaze from Hera..to your surprise. And thus began your horrible life with the Olympians..

….

🪡- You were stripped of your modern clothing and given a chiton to wear instead. “It’s too modern for our liking..” Aphrodite would say as she felt up your body in ways that made you shiver in discomfort. “We’re use to our people…how should I say this? Showing a little more skin…” the goddess of love would chuckle sweetly, while you would stare at her in embarrassment and maybe even a hint of disgust. While you could understand where she was coming from- it still didn’t stop you personally from being uncomfortable with they way she was touching you.

🏺-You’d also be dressed up in fine jewellery, much to your surprise..anklets of gold, bangles made of bronze, necklaces etc. sweet smelling oil perfumes covering your body- anything to make seem more ‘appealing’ to the gods and goddess. You were their plaything after all, so it made sense for them to dress you how they liked..no matter how much you disliked it.

🪡- They’d occasionally have you pour them wine at banquets or sit on their laps to just sit there and look pretty. The main gods that did this were of course Zeus, Apollo, Poseidon, definitely Dionysus and at some point Hermes. You didn’t really appreciate this, but rejecting their request would result in a ‘punishment’ for you.

🏺- To your surprise..Ares rarely touched you without your permission, but he was a little mean here and there. He along with Athena and Demeter weren’t as…’touchy’ as the others. And Artemis …you appreciated that..though just because they didn’t touch you in inappropriate ways doesn’t mean they weren’t as ‘crazy’ as the rest.

🪡- For example, while Artemis wasn’t big on being a pest in terms of touching you, she did take you out on hunts..which..wasn’t so bad in your opinion. It was much better than being up on the mountain most days..she thought a little more rationally- but of course- her twin, Apollo, would see you hanging out with his sister and get a little possessive about it. Which you didn’t understand- you weren’t any of their lovers (even if they thought so), but even so..most hunting trips were cut short because of him.

🏺- When you finally got moments to breathe away from the gods..you’d spend it out in the garden..hidden away from everyone and thing..it was your quiet time up until one of the gods summoned you. You found out that you weren’t the first human to be in this position (and probably not the last)..according to one of the lesser known gods (maybe Hebe) you were told that centuries before, a young lad was taken into the heavens to serve Zeus but had been placed into the stars as the constellation known as Aquarius.

🪡- You shivered at the thought..you didn’t want that to happen to you. To be placed in the stars? Doomed to forever look down on earth and watch your family and friends grow? It may have been an honour back then but to you it was almost like a death sentence.

🏺- Either way, life with the Olympians got harder to cope with. Your privacy was always compromised and you were forced to many things you didn’t like. Sometimes the gods would be as bold to sneak up on you while you were bathing and either join you in the pool or touching up your nude body.

🪡-Often giving excuses for why they would do so, or simply ignoring your protest. It wasn’t hard to manhandle you after all..they were gods, and you were a puny human. Why should they care about your thoughts and feelings. It progressively got worse with them kissing your neck or cheek without your permission too- Apollo was the main culprit of that..

🏺- Sometimes you found yourself crying in a corner by yourself at the situation you were in. The only person willing to comfort you being Hestia. She obviously didn’t approve of this but she couldn’t do much besides being a safe space for you to turn to, which you appreciated.

🪡- But no matter how you protest, run, hide, or try to defy them; you are still theirs. That how they see it anyway, and they won’t change their mind..

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Six

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

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A/N: Sorry it took so long. I just haven’t been satisfied with this, but I think I just need to bite the bullet and let it go. I’ve had this in the drafts for a while and have edited it three times.

A/N: I think I might focus on some blurbs. Or, if y’all want, y’all can submit ideas for what Smalltown is gonna be like. I gotta write down a general background for Reader’s childhood there. I have a plan, but wouldn’t mind y’all toss some ideas on to the pile.

A/N: Thank you 🐑 Anon for the happy birthday wishes!

Warning: Kidnapping, Hostage Situation for Reader, Guns, Violence, Death, Yandere Behavior and themes

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After the initially panic and dread of being kidnapped settles into Reader’s bones, they’re quickly brought to the Iceberg Lounge. Where a Penguin waits to discuss the details of their ransom with them. He’s kidnapped a Wayne or two over the years, but with how well hidden the family has kept their newest member he might as well scope them out and see if he can make a pretty penny from ransoming them. Give them a proper Gotham introduction.

When Penguin finally has Reader he wrongly expects typical Gotham high society behavior. Threats, insult, bargaining, begging, bribing, hell, even crying. But, Reader, even while terrified, keeps being polite. Referring to him as Mr. Penguin, Sir, and saying please and thank you, while doing exactly what they’re told. Honestly, Reader’s more polite and respectful than half his goons and his own goddamn children. Such a damn shame they couldn’t have been his brat.

So he chats with them. Just for a bit.

How does Reader like Gotham? Who’s their favorite bat brat? What’s their favorite food? How much money did your Momma and Daddy leave you? Just friendly get-to-know you questions to help with the nerves. No need to worry. Everyone’s a bit scared during their first kidnapping. But, do they usually live past the first one, sir? Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t ya? You’ll have to be careful with that.

It’s all quite tense for Reader, just sitting in an empty club with a dangerous man. That is, until word comes in that Bruce Wayne is paying the ransom in full. Apparently, it made Gotham headlines. The newest Wayne kidnapped. It’s all over the News, nearly every channel. Yet, Reader notices something. Why don’t they show my face, sir? It’s because this isn’t going to be your last time getting kidnapped. You’re in Gotham, baby bird. We’re all hostages in this city. How sweet of them to try to protect you from it.

It isn’t long after that, when the lounge gets visitor before the ransom money could even be dropped off.

Red Hood.

One of the Bat Brats, as Penguin calls him. His arrival raising Cain. Rubber bullets and real ones flying everywhere. Penguin gets a hold of Reader, rest his umbrella gun to their temple. Come now, Red. Don’t make me blow their pretty little head off. I’m actually fond of this one. Best of the Wayne bunch, in my not-so-humble opinion.

And, in one of the few times since becoming Red Hood, Jason hesitates. Because if he fails, if Reader gets hurt like he did, he’ll probably burn Gotham to the ground. It’s not an option. He can’t, he won’t, and he will not allow it. And, that thought, is at the forefront of his mind as he looks at Reader’s terrified face with a gun pointed at their head.

The pause, however, is noticeable. Not just to Reader, but to Penguin as well. A sign of weakness or a sign of something more foreboding. It last for a brief moment. Then Red Hood is back in action. Only, in that single moment, a decision was made. A dark decision. Something that had been healed and supposedly buried.

Batman had always fostered the importance of preparedness in them. So, of course, Jason had a magazine of live bullets ready to go for an emergency. And, this was a fucking emergency. Who cares about a few goons? And Penguin fucking deserves it.

Bruce will understand this time. How sad is it that he does?

Penguin barely escapes, with only a handful of his men still breathing and a few bullets in his shoulder, but he lives. Along with the information that the newest Wayne brat is precious enough to a Bat Brat to break the no-kill code again. Though, that might in itself become a problem for Gotham. Once again, Gotham will baptized in blood. Only, the sins are still growing under the red water. Perhaps, this time Gotham will drown in it instead.

Jason grabs a shaking and terrified Reader while leaving the lounge filled with bodies. He’ll take care of it later. Right now he needs to get Reader back to the manor, or somewhere anywhere safe. Away from Gotham, away from its criminals, and, most of all, away from him.

For a moment he had been… enraptured when he saw how scared his precious Reader looked with a gun to their head. How they looked at him with such a pitiful pleading expression. The way the shook and quaked. How fucking big their eyes got in fear.

Reader kept looking at him with those same watery fearful eyes. Those shaking fingers. A tremble that they must be all the way down to their bones. Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute.

He didn’t make it for before he snapped, grabbing Reader’s face to ask what they talked with Penguin about. What did he want from you? Why did you look so friendly with him? Don’t you know he’s a criminal. He’s dangerous. He just wants to see them cower like that again. Just once more.

It takes a long moment for him to calm down and pull himself away from terrifying Reader. Eventually, noticing an oncoming storm and realizing he had better get Reader somewhere safe and back to Bruce so he can go back and clean up the trash.

Jason leaves a throughly shaken and distraught Reader on the GCPD roof. Right next to a lit Bat Signal for a tired Jim Gordan to find.

Jim finds Reader in the storm, mildly despondent from the entire ordeal. After ushering them inside and trying to lightly question them, he makes a call to Bruce that Red Hood had rescued Reader and they the GCPD had them safe. Bruce, naturally , breaks all sorts of traffic laws to get to them when he hears the concerned tone in Jim’s voice.

Reader, exhausted from the days events and shock, falls asleep in one of the spare chairs in the GCPD building. Bruce practically melts in relief when he finds them, picking them up and gently loading them in his car. NOT A DAMN TRUCK. To take them back home. Most of the GCPD find the gesture touching. What a sweet father he is. How lucky Reader is to have such a loving father.

Arriving home, Bruce puts Reader to bed, and makes sure Alfred is on stand by to comfort them and see to their every need. Watch them. Let me know if there’s even the slightest sign of a nightmare.

After taking a moment to let his eyes linger on a sleeping Reader, he heads down into the Batcave. Calling the family together for a meeting.

Stephanie is distraught. It’s her fault Reader got taken, all her fault. She shouldn’t have left them alone. She should have been right there be their side the entire time. At every moment and got every second.

And, Bruce, with deceptively calm yet devastating words, confirms just as much.

Surprisingly, there’s no shouting. No disagreements. Not from Stephanie, and certainly not from any one else. Just the cold realization that it was her fault Reader was nearly hurt and the solemn acceptance of it. They were supposed to have a chance to get close. Stephane won’t ever let it happen again. She’ll always be close from now on. In every way she can. Even if she’s not worthy.

Jason having gone back to clean up his mess before reporting back to Bruce and the others had more startling news. No one mentions a thing when they see the blood on him. Nor the empty magazines. Nor that familiar look in his eyes that reminds them of when he first came back. Someone had torched the Iceberg Lounge before he got back. Penguin is still running free, but the lounge is up in fire and smoke.

He did manage to see a figure leaving when he finally saw past the flames.

A Talon.

The Court of the Owls was active once more.

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With the whole Kidnapping thing and the Court being active again despite its previous destruction, Reader’s life went on completely lockdown. They aren’t allowed to go into Gotham at all. Not that they wanted to. The only reason Bruce didn’t just unenrolled them from Gotham Academy is because Damian, Cassandra, and Duke vow to watch them closely and report everything back to him.

Alfred, from then on, drives them all to and from school. Leading to quiet, bordering awkward, mornings and afternoons.

After the whole ordeal with Penguin and Red Hood, Reader is ninety percent certain the family is Gotham’s Bat vigilantes. Mainly due to the fact that Red Hood reminded Reader eerily of how Jason acted to be around them. Luckily, he barely managed to hold himself back. But, it was clear, enjoyed their fear and wanted to scare them. The whole situation resulted in Reader’s momentarily loss of control.

It also didn’t help that everyone seemed to disappear now.

Sure, Reader rides to school with Cassandra and Duke everyday. Damian is also there, but he just silently watches them with those poisonous green eyes of his. The three of them now hovering in the distance down the back of Reader’s neck. Nevertheless, as soon as they were all back in the Manor, the place becomes like a ghosttown. Even Alfred disappears for hours on end now.

Reader rightful assumes it’s more Bat work. But, there’s no one there to talk about how the incident made them feel. To help them verbally process the ordeal. It hurts.

What hurt the most, however, was Stephanie avoiding them.

Now, if Stephanie had just given them even an empty excuse and left the room it probably wouldn’t have hurt so much. But, to watch the blood drain from Stephanie’s face at the sight of Reader and then physically run away from them was offensive and down right painful.

Then there’s the additional fact that, coincidentally, Jason starts showing back up at the manor. Undoubtedly, helping the others with whatever they’re doing in the library. But, Reader sees him as more often as they pace the empty halls of the manor. And, that hysterical gleam in his eyes reminds them of that night they were rescued.

Tim has been like a ghost since the beginning of Reader’s stay. Every time Reader seems to make progress befriending him, he disappears. Only to reappear and act like nothing happened. Unnaturally, he acts like they’re somehow even closer than before. Each and every time. Like he’s never let Reader alone. Ever. Like he’s always been there watching. And, then he disappears, again and again. Only staying for brief moments.

Barbara is just a thought in Reader’s mind. Reader has seen more of Jim Gordon, her father, than Barbara in the recent weeks.

Mr. Gordon had been wanting to check in on them after the incident and ask them a few questions on what happened that night at the Iceberg Lounge. He was quite gentle in his interrogation, if you could call it that. Barbara had told him Reader wasn’t used to Gotham’s madness and must be treated gently.

Not to say Barbara isn’t checking on Reader. Tim’s not the only on constantly checking the manor cameras as Reader paces.

Dick was like a stray wind. Blowing through the manor, knocking Reader over with the shower of affection then disappearing again. To the library. To Buldhaven. To the ends of the world and back for all they knew. Unfortunately, Reader was growing desperate for any sense of comfort and would cling to him when he came. You have no idea how happy that made him. It was so cute how sad Reader was when he left now. How nice it felt to be needed.

Bruce was different, though. After the incident, he somehow managed to find a way to suffocate Reader with his presence without even being in it for long. Appearing at random to just watch them before disappearing again. Nothing was ever said. He just watched them then vanished.

Reader dreads having to bring up the whole incident with Penguin and Red Hood to Nana. They don’t want to cause anyone back home to worry. Besides, it’ll just remind everyone about that incident a few years back. The one that Reader does everything to forget about. The incident that would probably change a few things for better or for worse. For the family and for Gotham.

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A/N: Yeah, Penguin lives. But, for a reason. Don’t get mad, please. (I did research and found out he was basically Yandere for his mother and killed his father and brothers to have all her attention for himself. And, he has children. 👀)

A/N: Also, reader’s getting some mild tragic backstory. It’s the DC universe. Everything’s gotta have a bit of bitterness. It’s all for the plot.

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Taglist:

@starsdotalk @sleepyghoster @maicenitas @box-of-kinderjoy @yandereheros @skwunkler @cl0esblogg @delias-stuff @rosecentury

[gghostwriter]

Hey, how you doing? So I was wondering if you could write a one-shot where Y/N visits Spencer in prison and just like how when JJ visited him, Spencer doesn’t like the way the inmates are looking at Y/N, and when he gets back to his cell or when he is in the prison yard, he hears inmates talking about Y/N and gets protective. Saying stuff like “don’t talk about her like that, you don’t get to talk about her” or something similar.

I am unsure if there is a fanfic like this so just in case, I am asking ☺️

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Protective!Spencer Word Count: 0.8k A/N: apologies that this took a while. I was feeling very hyper-critical and unsatisfied with anything I wrote so this collected dust in my drafts a bit—still do feel it if I’m being honest but I felt the motivation to revisit my rough draft and make some changes before posting. I hope you like it! Main masterlist

His. // Spencer Reid

Spencer hasn’t felt himself ever since his capture. If he was being honest, his descend to rock bottom started even before then but that wasn’t the point. No, the point was the accumulation of his lack of sleep in his single cell—only an hour at most, the constant alertness from keeping his identity as a fed hidden—his fashioned shiv always an inch away from reach, and the group shared meals—never knowing what other contaminants it has, all made him feel one step away from snapping. He was teetering on the edge of lashing out and like the unsubs that he used to profile in black and white typing, he only needed one stressor before all hell broke loose.

And that stressor was you. 

Visitation hours were always bittersweet. It soothed his soul to see your expressive eyes and beautiful face but dread always came after, knowing the minutes were counting down before you and him had to separate. He had always hated the idea of separation, hated not seeing you wholly and safe.

During the past cases, the bodies of each victim somehow always reminded him of you and here, locked in the confines with other criminals, made his hyper-vigilance of protecting you increase by a hundred. 

“Love, you don’t have to come visit me,” he suggested as the jeers from the other inmates about your looks echoed on the walls. Each whistle and vulgar mention of how your looks get their gears revving was a chip in his knightly armor and although he could see you trying to pay it no attention, it soothe no pain that he was the reason why you were exposed to all this sexualization.

“It’s fine, Spence. I can handle it as long as I get to see you,” you defended. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too,” the corners of his mouth lifting to a small smile. Four simple words that didn’t fully express the ache echoing in his chest. He could read in several languages but none of them could fully explain the loss that reverberates in him when it’s time to part ways.

You picked on the loose threading of his cardigan adorning your body. “I’ve been visiting your mom. She asks about you a lot. How you’re doing, how you’re being treated and uh—” your lips quivered from emotion “—she misses you too.” 

“Thank you for seeing her. Can you tell her I’m doing fine? I don’t want her to worry too much about me,” he uttered a lie. He wasn’t doing great and you could see that but having been together for so long, you understood the reasoning behind the fib without needing any explanation.

I’d like to get a piece of that, huh. Another crude sentence about you reached his ears causing him to snap his neck to the side and clench his jaw. With all of his vast intellect, Spencer never did understand the psychology behind men catcalling as a form of flirtation and expecting the recipient to react positively. But then again, men who perpetuate this behavior were more of animals in his eyes. Plebeian in thought and unappealing in form.

Maybe there was something in the stale air of prison that made him his hackles rise or maybe it was just his biological imperative to protect what was his. Either reason, he felt himself snap the next day during yard hour when a duo of inmates sat beside him to slobber about your beauty and body.

“Hey Twig, was that your girl the other day? That pretty young thing?” The one with the neck tattoo taunted. “Tell me, does she taste as sweet as she looks?” 

His bald headed partner sneered. “Man, I don’t think he can get her off, probably doesn’t even know how she sounds like in bed. With how skinny he is, bet he’s also pencil—”

“Have some respect. You don’t get to talk about her like that.” Spencer snarled out. He felt like an animal about to escape from his cage—gone was the logical ex-FBI agent and all that remained was a convicted, highly intelligent felon no longer afraid of committing a crime. Additional blood coating his shackled hands was nothing if done in your name.

They both snickered. “And what you going to do about it, huh?” 

He ground his teeth, saying nothing. Spencer knew the statistics of him winning in a fight specially 2 vs 1 was slim to none so he catalogued their faces and numbers in his vast mind and bid his time like a snake lying in the wait for his prey to settle in faux comfort.

“Thought so. C’mon man,” the one with the neck tattoo patted his back and started to stand with his partner. “I’lll see your girl in my fantasies tonight, Twig.” 

But before they were out of earshot, he turned and called back a warning—his last mercy before the execution. “You’re going to regret it.” 

They both hooted in laughter, unaware that Spencer makes good on his promises—threats really, anything to protect his girl.

And when he poisoned a group of inmates who were smuggling drugs inside the jail, he made sure that all those men who jeered sexual innuendos at you, counting in the two who confronted him in the yard, were included. His methods cold, detached, and impersonal—something he learned from the killers he had spent half of his life profiling.

There were whispers, of course, who caused the contamination. He wasn’t deaf. He knew it was what labelled him as a danger and almost untouchable in prison. An emerging alpha in this testosterone filled animal kingdom. The same status that extend to you, his chosen queen.

And so during your next visit when no cat calls reached your ears, you innocently asked about it and he just shrugged like it was no big deal. He didn’t want to taint your mirage of him any more than his stint in prison had done. You were his to protect, his to care for, and his to love.

To put it simply, you were his.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[crybaby-bkg]

I hate when I wanna write but just can’t form the correct words so I don’t write at all ☹️

[ofbatsandballads]

so this has been in the drafts for a hot minute now, but today felt like a good day to post it as my dash is filled with thought pieces on if Jason would kill for his lover (the answer is and always will be yes). so here, have some Jason killing for you.

tw: reader is assaulted and kidnapped by Black Mask (includes being pistol whipped and threatened with a gun in a slight implication of sa), Jason beating and killing Roman in retaliation. this is darker than anything I’ve written thus far so please heed the warnings and be responsible for your reading!

Jason Todd would kill for you. In some ways, he already has killed for you. Every bullet embedded in the skulls of Gotham’s worst has taken on a new meaning since you came into his life like an angel from the heavens. He’s always been about evening the odds, cleaning the filth from the city. But now? Now it’s personal. Now every life he takes is one less person that could do harm to you. So, yeah, you knew Jason Todd would kill for you.

It is something else entirely to see him do it. You could do nothing but watch as he put three bullets into Roman Sionis’s head. Roman had gotten the harebrained idea to use you as a negotiation tool. He orchestrated the invasion of yours and Jason’s shared home and attended it himself, participating with an enthusiasm that marked him for death. He had pistol whipped you when you shot him in the shoulder with one of the guns taped under your coffee table. He’d shoved the gun in your mouth while promising Hood’s gonna find his favorite doll in pieces, and left you gagged and bound in a warehouse. And for all his effort, he had been beaten within an inch of his life, body traumatized by the brute strength of your lover’s fists. When he had finally had enough, when Red Hood had hit him so hard that the Black Mask cracked and begged for his life? Well, Jason put the animal out of his misery.

You’re in shock. You’ve come within inches of death tonight. Your whole frame shakes like a leaf in the wind, not from the chill of the warehouse but from the fear of what’s happened to you. The sight of your lover, who you’ve only ever seen be gentle and soft firsthand, being the embodiment of violence should scare you more.

It doesn’t. You watch Red Hood–no, not Hood–you watch Jason kill the mob boss and you’re comforted. The thought of that scares you a bit, that you find his willingness to attack and kill like a loyal guard dog so calming. It makes the ties he’s bound around your heart pull harder, stronger. You think maybe you should be beyond this feeling, above it. Maybe you should be horrified by all this brutality. But when he’s done it for you, to protect you? You’re not sure you’ve ever loved him more.

[meleeyz]

┈﹒ ꒰ 𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘!𝗘𝗞𝗞𝗢 𝗪𝗘𝗗𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦 ꒱

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled

୨୧ These are headcanons of the other Ekko, before the canon Ekko from the show "takes" his place… I hope you understand...

୨୧ I'm still writing for the fic, but the last chapters is taking longer than I thought, I hope you understand, in the meantime I have some things in drafts that I will publish so you don't run out of content.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

another universe!ekko who was really nervous about proposing to you knowing how big of a step that is...

Ekko had always been a confident guy. He was innovator, someone who could fix almost anything. But when it came to you, he found himself feeling like a bumbling preteenager all over again. He wanted everything to be perfect—down to the handmade ring he was crafting for the proposal. Using scraps of precious metals and stones he collected over the years, he poured hours of focus into shaping it into something that represented your story together. Benzo would catch him hunched over his workstation at odd hours, muttering about the alignment or polish. "You know, kid, it’s not like she’s gonna turn you down if it’s a millimeter off," Benzo teased, ruffling Ekko’s hair. Ekko would just grin sheepishly but double his efforts anyway.

another universe!ekko who practiced his proposal speech a dozen times, only to get caught mid-rehearsal...

He was standing in the middle of The Last Drop, the roof their unofficial safe haven for years. “So, um, I’ve been thinking…” he started, pacing back and forth. “No, no, that sounds dumb. Okay—‘you’re the light of my life, and I can’t imagine—’ ugh, that’s so cheesy.” Behind him, Powder crept up the stairs, barely containing her giggles. “Keep going,” she whispered, trying not to laugh. Ekko whipped around, his face flaming red. “How long have you been there?!” “Long enough to know you’re terrible at this,” she teased, doubling over with laughter. “You’re lucky she already loves you.”

another universe!ekko who had no idea you were planning your own big announcement...

While Ekko was caught up in his grand proposal plans, you were busy with plans of your own. The test results sat folded in your pocket for days, and your hands hovered over them more times than you could count. You were going to be a mother. It was Powder who figured it out first, being too observant for her own good. “You’ve been glowing,” she said one afternoon while helping you sort supplies at the community center. “Also, you cried over Mylo spilling coffee, so I kinda put two and two together.” You blinked at her, stunned. “Powder, you cannot tell anyone yet!” She held up her hands. “Cross my heart! But seriously, I’m gonna be the best godmother ever!” You couldn’t help but laugh, though your nerves stayed. You wondered how Ekko would react, if he’d be overwhelmed or excited—or both.

another universe!ekko who proposed on the roof of the last drop, the place where your story began...

Ekko had chosen the roof where he had first kissed you as the spot to ask you to be his forever. He had strung up soft, glowing lights and set up a little table with flowers and your favorite dessert. When you stepped onto the roof and saw him standing there, his hands fidgeting nervously as he smiled at you, your heart swelled with affection. He cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. "So, uh… I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time." You stepped closer, your smile encouraging him to continue. "Being with you has been the greatest adventure of my life," he said, his voice gaining confidence. "And I can’t imagine spending another day without knowing that you’ll always be by my side. So..." He dropped to one knee and pulled out the handmade ring, holding it up with a hopeful look. "Will you marry me?" Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, unable to find your voice at first. "Yes, Ekko. Of course, I’ll marry you." The joy on his face was priceless as he slipped the ring onto your finger, pulling you into a tight embrace.

another universe!ekko who fainted when you told him you were pregnant moments later...

But before he could say another word, you decided it was time to share your own surprise. “I have something to tell you too,” you said, your hand trembling as you guided his to your stomach. “You’re going to be a dad.” His grin froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Wait, what—?” And then he hit the floor. Powder’s shriek of laughter carried from the rooftop stairs. "I knew he’d do that!"

another universe!ekko who woke up to find you fanning him, looking both amused and concerned...

"You okay?" you asked, trying not to laugh. He blinked up at you, groaning. "Wait… did you just say…?" "Yes, Ekko," you said softly. "You’re going to be a dad." For a moment, he was silent, then a wide grin broke across his face. "I’m gonna be a dad," he repeated, awe in his voice.

another universe!everyone who was overjoyed by the double news…

Vander insisted on hosting an engagement party at The Last Drop, which quickly turned into a celebration for the baby too. Silco was the first to congratulate you both, "You’ll be a wonderful mother," he said quietly. Claggor and Mylo, meanwhile, started a heated argument over who would be the better uncle. "I’m obviously the fun uncle," Mylo declared, crossing his arms. Claggor rolled his eyes. "The kid needs someone responsible. That’s me." Powder, sitting nearby, added fuel to the fire. "Don’t worry, guys. The baby’s gonna love me more anyway. I’m the godmother!" Benzo couldn’t resist teasing Ekko. "Didn’t want to wait, huh?" he joked, clapping him on the back. Ekko just laughed, unashamed. "When you know, you know."

another universe!ekko who became the most attentive fiancé and father-to-be anyone had ever seen…

Ekko went into full-on protective mode. He insisted on carrying anything remotely heavy for you, making sure you got enough rest, and preparing meals that he claimed were "good for the baby." "Ekko, it’s just a broom," you said one afternoon, trying to sweep the living room. "Doesn’t matter," he replied, gently taking it from your hands. "You’re not lifting a finger while I’m around."

another universe!ekko who is absolutely excited about his baby

Ekko transformed into the ultimate caretaker. He made sure you were comfortable at all times, fussing over pillows, blankets, and cravings. He’d often disappear for errands and come back with baby clothes, stuffed animals, or tiny shoes. "You know it’s too early to shop, right?" you teased one evening. "Yeah, but look at these little boots!" he said, holding them up proudly.

another universe!ekko who spent hours talking to your belly...

He would lean close, resting his head against you as he spoke softly. “Hey, little one. It’s your dad. I just wanted to say I love you already—whether you’re a boy or a girl, doesn’t matter.” Your laughter filled the room. “You’re gonna spoil them before they’re even born.” “Damn right,” he said, grinning.

another universe!silco who became unexpectedly protective of you during your pregnancy…

"Must I remind you," Silco said one day, his piercing gaze locking onto yours, "that you’re carrying a very important member of this family?" "I was just reaching for a book," you replied, amused. "It starts with books, and ends with unnecessary strain."

another universe!powder who was the maid of honor and made sure your dress was perfect...

Powder was practically vibrating with excitement as she helped you into your gown. “You look like a queen,” she declared, fluffing the skirt. “No, a goddess. Ekko’s gonna cry when he sees you.” “Let’s hope he doesn’t faint again,” you teased, earning a snort of laughter.

another universe!benzo who secretly cried at ekko’s wedding...

As you walked down the aisle, arm in arm with Vander, Benzo dabbed at his eyes. When Ekko teased him later, he grumbled, “Shut it, kid. It’s allergies.”

another universe!ekko whose wedding was the event of the year...

The Last Drop was transformed into a breathtaking venue, with twinkling lights and decorations. Vander had insisted on non-alcoholic cocktails, much to the delight of you and the other guests. Ekko couldn’t take his eyes off you as you exchanged vows, his voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions. “You’re my everything,” he said, slipping the ring onto your finger. "I promise to love you, protect you, and be the best partner and dad I can be—for you and for our family."

another universe!ekko who ended the night on the roof where it all began...

After the reception, Ekko led you back to the roof where it all began. The city lights shimmered below, the quiet hum of Zaun wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Ekko knelt in front of you, resting his head gently against your rounded belly. "I’ll be the best dad," he murmured, his hands cradling your bump. "You already are," you assured him, running your fingers through his hair. He looked up at you, his brown eyes shining with love. "And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it."

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