#fic: Dear Helios
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Hey buddyyyy I was wondering if you could write about Slytherin male MC discovering their healing powers and healing Ominis of his blindness and Anne of her curse. I’ve read fics of those individually but never together
Keep up the good work 👍🏼
Hey! I love this idea. Fun fact, the first ask I ever sent on Tumblr was to the ever talented @hogwartslegacyreactions and it was how the HL characters would react to Ominis being cured of his blindness. Be sure to check her out! Scarlet is a lovely writer and I adore her blog. I owe much of my inspiration to her
This was originally a bit long all together, so I'm going to split it into multiple parts.
ONWARD!
Pt. 2
Pt. 3
Pt. 4
The Healer, pt 1
Ominis was definitely frustrated. He was having a lovely night's sleep when the Margaret the Diricawl landed on his chest. I was going to send a Niffler, but I didn't trust any of them to deliver a message swiftly and efficiently. Especially Ricky. I rescued him from a particularly grouchy vendor in Irondale, said he "pilfered the town and should be sent away to Azkaban." The last thing I needed was detention for the little stinker stealing Professor Ronan's hat, or Weasley's glasses. So I sent Margaret with a note tied to her- "Come to the Room please. I have something to show you." She was the sweetest of my Diricawls, one who wouldn't peck my dear friend's eyes out. They were very important to my plan. Anyways, the grumpy Gaunt stumbled into the Room of Requirement, muttering and cursing. "What? This could not possibly be more important than my rest." I laughed. I wasn't sure if it was really early or really late. I had been working for hours. "Oh trust me my friend. It is." I stared at the small vial that was the reason behind all this. A clear liquid glowed inside, occasionally flashing a brilliant blue. "Go sit on the couch." I ordered, and Ominis agreed. I had definitely piqued his interest.
"You told me that your childhood healers tried Phoenix tears and it didn't work." My heart was in my throat. This had to work. For him, for Anne..for everyone. "Right." He replied. "They thought that if that couldn't give me sight, nothing could." He was very stoic, I knew he had long accepted his condition and made it work. "Well. They didn't try everything. Mainly because this didn't exist until now." I brandished the small vial. He blinked slowly. "Wow. How incredible. I am in awe." He said flatly. Oops. "Oh right. Sorry. I call it Miracle Tears." I was tired. Naming stuff is hard, why do you think two of my pets are named Margaret and Ricky? Being creative was hard enough while not sleep deprived, Miracle Tears was going to have to cut it. "And who's tears might they be?" Ominis laughed. It was good to hear his tone shift from sleepy grouch to his usual sarcastic drawl. "Mine. Helios shared some. So did Diana." I replied. Ominis had met my phoenix, and my herd of Unicorns, so he recognized the names. "What? They cried for you?" He sounded shocked. "Yes, they are my bestest friends and they were much nicer when I woke them up." I shot back. "I thought of every healing substance I could think of. Phoenix tears, of course. Then Unicorn blood, but I knew that was out of the question. I consulted with Poppy, and we theorized that the tears could be used to a similar effect. We tested our theory, and we were correct." I didn't mention that our method involved jumping off of the balcony in the Room. "However, it wasn't as powerful, only healing partially." I said sheepishly. "Wait. Was that why Poppy was in the Hospital Wing for three days?!" Ominis more so sounded disappointed in me rather than upset. "You're getting off topic." I was glad he couldn't see my face reddening. "The last healing power I could think of was my own. Isidora went insane by removing pain and absorbing it. I did not want to risk that, so I thought up another way to bottle this power." He was quiet, I could tell he was thinking. "Listen. MC. I know you want to help me and Anne. But we've both made peace with our lives. As hard as it may be to hear, I don't need this." He was right. I knew he didn't. "I know. Sebastian does." I said softly. He was silent. Since the end of last year, Sebastian had fallen into a funk. His punishment of losing his twin sister was wearing too hard on him. He rarely spoke, and ate even less. I worried for him, and I knew Ominis did as well. "If it doesn't work, you can say you told me so and I will forget about it. But he's our friend, and he's slipping. We are losing him." That was enough for Ominis. "Alright. For Sebastian." I handed him the vial and he drank.
Ominis fell to the floor, writhing in pain and clutching his face. Shit. I didn't know what to do, or what to say. "My eyes! They burn!" He screamed. I ran into my potion room, frantically looking for something...anything. Dittany maybe, I can brew a Wiggenweld...I tried to focus, but my friends pained screams were throwing me off. As soon as I was about to scream for Deek, he stopped. He picked himself up off the floor, blinking. "I...can see." Ominis looked up at me. His normally pale eyes had turned into a deeper shade of blue. It worked. "Sorry my ragged mug is the first thing you saw." I laughed. He tackled me with a hug. "This is the world...the real world!" It was quite adorable seeing him staring at everything, his smile lit up the room. "We need to find Sebastian."
#Hogwarts legacy fanfic#Hogwarts legacy oc#x reader#Sebastian sallow#Ominis gaunt#healing#harry potter#hogwarts#gryffindor#hufflepuff#ravenclaw#slytherin#hogwarts houses#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts oc
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Hello hello, and soft Rhys headcanons? ^^
Hiiii ofc you can my dear <3
SOFT RHYS HEADCANONS
Not my gif
Pairing: Rhys Strongfork x reader
Reader pronouns used: They/Them/Their's
Warnings: None as far as I was aware
Summary/Notes: Mentions Handsome Jack, Vaughn, Zer0 (He/they pronouns are what I use for Zer0) and Lor
Tales from the Borderlands Rhys:
-> He needs so many hugs
-> I mean look at him he's a nervous wreck
-> He needs support, constantly.
-> When Vasquez is a douche and starts messing with Rhys, just try and pull him away and comfort him
-> However if Vasquez says anything about you, that becomes far more difficult
-> yk
-> because he looooves you~
-> Vaughn and you being close is his one of his favourite things about you
-> He lives that you can be good friends with his best friend
-> right so I'm not sure about what the living situations on Helios are like but there's a designated living area if I remember right
-> when you come over, he'll put on some music and you must dance with him
-> you can both be awkward wobbly messes together while you dance
-> Loves a good slow dance, no matter how clumsily you both do it
-> He tries to hide the fact he is lowkey obsessed with Handsome Jack for weeks into your relationship
-> however he gets caught when you come over for the first time to his place
-> You better not judge him, he would feel horrible and like some weird freak if you judged him for it
-> if you like Handsome Jack as much as him (and me) honestly he will rant to you about all the stuff he thinks is cool about Jack.
-> he hyperfixates on things
-> He gets so happy when you let him talk about his hyperfixations
-> like he starts stimming
-> starts shaking his arms, getting a giggly and so so smiley
-> He's just like me fr 😌
-> When he leaves to Pandora, he trust you to tell you what is happening
-> but you cannot go with them
-> Rhys values your safety more than anyone elses
-> He'll call you with is ECHO eye every day at least once
-> He worries that either he will get killed and never get a chance to tell you how much he loves you
-> or he worries that while he's away, someone may try to take advantage of you or kill you
-> When he goes back to Helios he doesn't tell you about Jack
-> Jack however knows plenty about you however since he's been stuck with both of you two's biggest fan.
-> When shit starts going bad, Rhys calls you to tell you to leave as soon as possible
-> you find an escape pod and make it to Pandora
-> After all the dram with the Gortys project however, you are very happy to help Rhys rebuild Atlas
-> that's another thing he adores about you, you so supportive of him
-> We love him
💙
Borderlands 3/ New Tales Rhys:
-> When he's big boss man Rhys, he has less time for you and let me tell you, that destroys him
-> you are the main pillar for his mental stability so when he's there fighting off Maliwan because some psycho wants to be besties with him and you can't be there because you have your own work or just happened to be away for a week, you can imagine how he's feeling
-> When he does have you in his arms however he's snuggling his head into your neck
-> you are his safe haven
-> always have been
-> let's you pick what fish he has in that huge fish tank of his
-> you know the dancing thing from before? It's so much more fun now that you have his entire office to yourselves
-> you can just take a moment to chill out with your CEO boyfriend
-> Zer0, Lor and you are all really good friends
-> Zer0 is just as protective of you as they are of Rhys
-> oh yeah, did I forget to mention? He plans on proposing soon
----------------------
Sorry that the last part was shorter than tftbl Rhys but I've been working on my Handsome Jack fic still, that should come out this week hopefully and I'm trying to get back into the flow of writing.
I just beg that everyone is patient with me and writing 🙏 I don't mean to take so long but I really am hoping to keep it somewhat consistent.
#rhys borderlands#rhys strongfork#rhys x reader#rhys the company man#borderlands#borderlands 2#borderlands 3#tftbl#tales from the borderlands#borderlands x reader#x reader#Fanfic#HandsomeMilo
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I noticed licht doesn't have a kiss fic yet. Sorry, I know you're busy with the broken heartstrings series rn but I'm gonna trow it in anyways for when you might have time, before i forget about it [again]
hugs ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ and Love, V
A/N: Thank you for the request @viohasgoneintothewoods 💜 Licht has been requested several times before (hello Licht kiss anons!) but I wasn't sure how to fulfill it without it being a bit darker than some of the other kiss fics. But now that I have thrown myself into writing angst, this request fits right into Broken Heartstrings (and is a lot faster to write)! So here you go!
Word Count: 568
His name means “light.”
And when he holds you in his arms, you believe the warmth that fills your heart rivals any bright ray of summer sunshine. Peace and contentment flood you at the feel of his strong embrace, a fortress that would withstand anything if it meant protecting you. He is a bastion of love, a bulwark you can hold on to in the face of any turbulent storm.....but what do you do when those very arms are what is shaking? When the light you know he possesses begins to dim?
His name means “light."
But the man you love is haunted by shadows. The past has a dark grip over him, long tendrils that snake their way silently through his mind, that wrap around his heart like black, thorny vines and squeeze.
He is a paradox: delicate strength. Mighty fragility.
In the bright light of desire, when he allows that passion to overrule any other emotion, he is as powerful as Helios. But instead of driving four fiery steeds across the sky, he is blazing a trail of kisses across your body. His lips are fire, stoking the heat in your veins, bringing a sunset-colored flush to your skin. As sure as the sun burns a beaming path across the sky, so does Licht set you aflame. His mouth is sure, his hands are steady. He is a torch in the darkness, lighting the way, leading you higher and higher towards the heavens. His name escapes your lips, the sound a comet of radiant light across the night sky. He kisses you and you are a supernova on the verge of bursting. You are Sirius, the brightest star in the heavens. You are filled with the light of his love and his adoration and his fervent need and you are unstoppable.
His name means "light."
But sometimes desire and love and want are not enough to spark that glow. Sometimes the darkness wins. Sometimes his mouth is unsure. His hands unsteady. Sometimes he does not think to reach for you at all because he is afraid that he is something foul, something that will not empower you but rather taint your goodness with something less than. He shrinks into the shadows, prefers to wrap his arms around himself, storm clouds pelting him with a cold rain that screams, “You are unworthy. You do not deserve this.” It is then your turn to reach out, through the stinging gray fog and find him. To pull him into the warm circle of your embrace, to run a hand over his soft, silver hair and press kiss after loving kiss against his chilled skin. You kiss understanding against his cheek, cold and damp with tears. You kiss acceptance against his pale forehead. You kiss empathy into the curve of his jaw. And you kiss his lips, feeling the way they tremble against yours, and give him all of your love, tender and patient. Over and over your lips touch his. Over and over you tell him wordlessly how deeply you love him. Over and over and over until the tremors that wrack his scarred body cease. Until his war-torn heart finds a steady rhythm once again. Until the haunted shadow fades from his luminous eyes. Until the well of tears has run dry.
His name means “light.”
And you will always find him in the darkness.
Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly
#ikemen series#ikemen prince#ikepri#ikepri licht#licht klein#kiss fic#broken heartstrings#ikemen fanfic#ikemen fanfiction#otome fanfic#violettwrites
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Raphael x Evie (f!OC) | Fic Rating: E/Varied | Chapter 1 on AO3
Photic sneeze reflex (or autosomal dominant compelling helio-ophthalmic outburst, "ACHOO" syndrome): A condition characterized by successive sneezing induced by bright light.
Raphael's devil transformation makes poor Evie sneezy, plus a reminder of how they met.
.
Chapter 10: Just a Light Reaction
“Oh, humans and their silly-” *gestures vaguely*
.
Ch. Rating: T / SFW
Ch. Word Count: 307
Ch. Tags: POV Evie; Humor; Drabble
Ch. Warnings: Slight (General) Humiliation
.
Read under the cut or on AO3-
With the bright flash of light of his transformation, Evie found herself doubled over in a violent fit of sneezing.
She heard Raphael walk to his desk and pull out his chair to sit. “In all my years of dealing with mortals, I can safely say you have the honor of being the first to have such a-…reaction.” She didn’t need to be able to see Raphael to know the judgmentally amused expression he assuredly wore. “Fear, cowering…apathy, varying degrees of anger. A dwarf pissed himself last ten-day - not uncommon. Sneezing, though, that is new.”
“Oh, dear fox, we are beginning to match with the shade you’ve turned!” he teased. “This reminds me of when we first met. And here I thought it had merely been the occasion!”
She’d rather not be reminded.
Though she frequently saw him in both his devil and human forms, Raphael hadn’t transformed in front of her again since that first time.
Evie further hid her face in mortification.
He’d come waltzing into the camp, started reciting poetry, and she panicked as he introduced himself, promptly informing him, “Sorry, sir, but we’re full on bards.” Things were a bit tense at the time and she had literally just come from separating Volo and Wyll, who had threatened to skewer the bard for his gods-awful playing. Not one of her best moments.
And then the devil whisked her away, and she nearly brained herself on a dining table chair from sneezing after the first time he transformed in front of her.
“It��s the liiight,” she whined out from behind her knees in explanation, now half buried sideways in the armchair as her face throbbed and lungs burned but the sneezing had finally stopped. And then she hiccoughed.
The devil was laughing.
He could never say he hadn’t been warned of her oddities.
❤️ Thank-you for reading! ❤️
#baldur's gate 3 raphael#bg3 Raphael#Raphael x OC#raphael x tav#raphael the cambion#baldur's gate 3 fanfic#baldur's gate 3 raphael fanfic#Plots & Prosody#mrfancyfoot
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10, 17 & 32 for writer questions?
oooo thanks for the ask!! link to ask game
10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?
When I was. like. 8. i wrote this original story about five girls and a boy. it was, in short, very bad: none of the character traits were consistent, the plot moved along terribly, and scenes were messy. every chapter was in a different font and Oh Dear God was it unreadable.
and i fucking loved it. i was so proud of it. i still kind of am? 35 pages for an eight year old isn’t bad. but there are printed copies i still find around my house, and my mom still talks about it to this day, and every time i read it i wince.
i’m not sure if this is the definition of haunted, but it follows me around to this day. you maybe thought this was gonna be a fanfic, but this story. Oh God.
17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.
Gotta talk about fight or flight baybee!! okay so when i started this it was basically because i had many thoughts on the fact it was kristen’s siblings who convinced her to go during family in flames and not. her parents. and also the fact her parents names combined were McDonalds. that cracked me up. also actually i was talking to a lovely irl about this and they said “wait a character is Christian Applebees??” and i went ally beardsley how dare you. the google doc is titled ‘the mfing MacDonna Applebees’
i brainstormed a rudimentary layout for Mordred for this fic, as in i thought about the first floor and went ‘everything else doesn’t matter’. the chapel is canonically disconnected from the house but kristen also canonically has a secret passageway to tracker’s room, so i decided all the secret passageways link up and let people just. into the walls. kristen and riz are the only ones who have any semblance of confidence in there bc they sneak around so much. kristen uses the passageways mostly for tracker’s and bee’s rooms, but she knows how to get to the kitchen and about midway up the tower staircase.
bee is trans. i debated for a while whether her name was spelled Bee or Bea, but i decided on Bee bc i know a Bea and the vibes are. Different. kristen’s nickname for bricker is bricks, and bee calls him rick or ricks, and when they’re a bit older on their Fantasy Discord she Nicknames him Dick and kris doesn’t let Bricker change it back. bricker is bi; he kissed one of the luckstones under the bleachers and that’s what McDonalds was angry about. he’s also religious (bee goes i know the gods are real but i think i’m taking a step back please); he probably becomes a cleric of helio and does something similar to tracker in the sense he worships his own version of helio, not the widely accepted version.
they’re all two years apart: if kristen’s going into jr year, bee’s going into freshman, bricker’s going into seventh, and cork’s going into fifth. this means cork was seven or eight when kristen left, and you know, third graders are Little and have the object permanence of baboons, so. he’s fine. he’s not really in this fic sorry. when i listen to songs, i like to imagine animatics, and so fics are based around them often, and this one is no acception; the first line of the song is ‘i think it might rain today’ and a separate 3+1 line i was debating was ‘3 times kristen found her siblings in a storm and the one time she had them’.
also kristen needs therapy. she Will Not Get It.
32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?
really any line from ‘For Everyone’ by Jason Reynolds. it’s such a good book. my boss at a camp i worked at gave it to me a couple years ago, and i cried reading it. if i had to pick a section: (id in alt text) (it hits different when formatted like it’s read aloud)
#ask game#ren <3#god this book is. wonderful. i would recommend it immensely it’s short and sweet and so fucking emotional#questionnn!#no maintagging this one bc it’s all about my work and jason reynolds#seriously though that story. is a menace to society#i might redesign them at some point though!
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Stats Game
Thanks for the tag, @tsunderewatermelon!
So, in this game we see which fics have the most hits, kudoes, comments, bookmarks, and words, and also which fic has the fewest words. So let's get on, shall we?
Taggin @hylianjo @udaberriwrites @bleepbloopbotz and open tag! No pressure, tho!
Most Hits, Comments, Bookmarks and Words: Ace Attorney: Maya Fey (5101 hits, 31 comment threads, 48 bookmarks, 170580 words)
Ah, my brainchild, my dear sweet baby. I've been working on this fic for almost 2 years now, and it's garnered quite a lot of hits, comments, and bookmarks in the meantime! I'm not very surprised lol, since this fic has been running for so long. It is one beefy fic too, so long and it ain't even done yet o.O. Fun fact, my ao3 account used to be solely for the purpose of posting this fic, but I eventually started to branch out.
Most Kudoes: Operation Helios (167 kudoes)
Operation Helios is a Klapollo chatfic, and man does it have a lot of kudoes! I really love this fic, it's silly and goofy and it was super fun to write! I've been meaning to write more chatfics, they are so delightful to write and super fun.
Least Words: Five Whole Lies, Cookie Affection, Steel Samurai Rants (100 words)
All of these fics each have exactly 100 words long, perfect drabbles as I like to call them. They were super fun to write and I loved writing them. Writing with a set word count is always so fun, even if it is a little hard lol.
Well...that's all! I feel like I kinda cheated, since my Maya DA AU has most of the top stats, so sorry! XD
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🎫 for Helios and Nightjet
In concept, Helios has existed ever since 2020/21 when I needed a character to fill the role of the captain on a neutral ship in a post-TFP setting and none of the canon characters were fitting. So I created this guy, gave him a well-balanced personality and the designation Goldarm. The fic was abandoned but its 34 page document is still sitting somewhere on my computer.
Fast forward to December 2021, I watched Iron Leaguer and decided to rename him into Goldgrip which didn't last long, because then I got into the Braves and made up an entire show in my head about this little helicopter and his team of misfits. He needed a name that was fitting for a main Brave and Helios is the best triple pun I could come up with and I think it fits.
His story was slowly shaped into something and then I had the idea to make a Brave×Transformers crossover but I ported the entire thing into my own little fan continuity instead where he lives as one of the side characters. But he remains the main character in my heart.
Nightjet's alt mode is a Siemens Taurus locomotive and he was inspired by the night trains our local railway company uses. I see them almost every day because I live near the train station and they are very dear to me. One of the special quirks that some of these trains have is that a few models can 'sing'. By varying the pitch when they accelerate, they can play the doric musical scale and it makes some passengers smile :-)
Here's an example.
Nightjet doesn't sing himself, but he likes to hum lullabyes every now and then while working and it helps the other mechs relax.
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hello there! may i request a klaus fic from umbrella academy? the idea would be married hcs and waking up next to them every morning if it's okay with you:))
hi!! omg that sounds sweet- esp w klaus 🏃♀️ its been a while since ive watched the show so if its a little ooc.. just pretend he’s sleepy— /j
i added some creative liberties so hopefully you don’t mind!
also here’s a klaus gif while we’re at it! enjoy!!
Don’t Snooze Even Further Sunshine - Klaus Hargreeves
Description: A winter morning that bloomed from a sunny afternoon.
Word Count: 582
Category: Marriage Fluff
You felt a chill come down through your spine. The cold of the falling snow from outside rushed through your room and your shabby apartment. Sighing, you realize, it was another winter and as expected it was so cold. You already missed summer.
Shuddering as you pull up your blanket, you suddenly realized that you were alone in your bed when no one started pulling some for the sake of comfort.
You didn’t expect that, you definitely didn’t.
You were so used to him right by your side, with no pillows separating you two from warm embraces by the moonlight.
You knew Klaus wasn’t much of a morning person. Especially when you remember moments where you had to pull your husband’s leg out to get him to eat the pancakes you make that he’ll never somewhat admit he loves.
You let out a grunt, turning around to face his side on your cot.
You breathed in, relishing in the warmth that he left, his familiar scent filling your head. With that familiar scent of cigarettes, you expect it to smell like shit, with a scrunch wrinkling your nose. But it just reminded you so much of him.. that you didn’t really care.
It made you feel almost.. giddy. Now you miss him, miss huddling him like you yearn for summer, you wanted to feel him right by you, heartbeat right by your ear, his hand palming your head.
You could feel your eyes droop even further, the lingering heat comforting you better than the comforter wrapped around you. You were about to fall into slumber once more, until—
“My dear Helios!-“ His voice yelled out the nickname he gave you in one summer day. You remember asking him about it.
“Helios?” You asked. He only looked at you with a lovely look in his eyes, making your heart stutter. “Oh yes!” He said with a cheery tone. “You who shines as the one who takes the sun out, and I would be err.. what’s his name..?”
“Icarus?
“Icarus yes.. oh I’d be the love-struck fool flying right through you!”
You blinked at that, a laugh bubbling from your throat and a blush coating your face. “God, you sound cheesy..”
But he knew you liked it once he saw the smile printed on your face.
“Are you awake yet?” His voice is now clear. You groan out almost cheekily, not really annoyed at him. Klaus only sat by your side, his unoccupied hand trailing itself by your cheek, lightly caressing.
“Don’t snooze even further Sunshine..” He cooed. You only replied, “Nooo… It’s fucking freezing.”
“I know I know— Thought my own bits would freeze off.” He joked, eliciting a chuckle from your throat.
He smiled dreamily from the sound, as if he were the one interrupted from sleep.
“Good morning my sun.” Klaus went on, patiently waiting with a hot coffee mug in his other hand while you sat up. Your eyes drifted from his face then his busy hand, noticing his finger resting at the ceramic.
He was wearing his wedding ring, that little thing he has shared you a pair with. You still remember his ‘vow’ that fateful day. It wasn’t a fancy event, but it was as grand to you as any other.
“I’ve never loved someone who’s brighter than you. Hell—“ He let out an exasperated huff. “That’s what got me drawn to you.”
Like a moth to a flame.
You shook your head, your fingers intertwined with his. “You and your cheesiness, Klaus.”
You finally look back to his eyes, before smiling.
“Good morning Klaus.”
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The Tragedy of Orpehus and Eurydice Part II
Xyx x GN! Reader Fanfic
Prompt: A retelling of the classic Greek tragedy of Orpheus’ journey to the Underworld to find his muse, Eurydice, but alas not every hero’s journey ends cheerfully.
Part I Part II
Notes: Writing this and listening to Hadestown definitely hit me in the feels. For those unaware, it's a musical based on the myth so def check it out! “..” indicates speech, ‘...’ indicates thought.
TW: Death, Negative thoughts, and more Death
QUICK WARNING THIS FIC IS MORE ANGSTY AND LONGER THAN THE LAST, I AM APOLOGIZING IN ADVANCE
Many search for a purpose in life, a goal or motivation that would be a driving force in one’s actions, something that would get you to get out of bed and live. Everyone had a unique purpose, not one was the same. There are thousands of poems, epics, and stories based on journeys with purpose or a search for one, but the elders and scholars failed to teach us what to do when we lose that purpose. These thoughts were swirling in the grieving poet’s mind, thoughts plagued with a sadness so deep and his heart, so cold and unfeeling, that had used to beat for another, now only grieved. Who was he without his muse? What is a musician without passion? What is a writer without inspiration? They are all no one, for the talent they possess cannot be expressed and given to the world without these things.
Xyx’s feline companion tried to comfort him with its soft fur, constantly pawing at his lyre, hopelessly trying to have the poor man’s soul rest and set free through the beat of a melody. The effort was always fruitless, for the lyre would be a reminder of what he once had, his only passion in life, his will to live, Y/n. Under the soft pale light of Artemis' moon, he would dream of the time spent between the two lovers. The fondest of all was the day they had visited a field of hyacinths, a flower that was dedicated to the passing of his father’s love, prince Hyacinth. The irony of the situation hadn’t been lost on him as he let out a flat chuckle, maybe it was in the family to suffer so.
He remembered it like it was yesterday, surrounded by a field of violet and rose pink hyacinths, their smile wide as day, twirling the poor cat who had no chance of escaping their tight grip. If he could beg Hypnos to make his sleep last forever, he would take the chance without an ounce of hesitation, just so he could hold his beloved for all of eternity. As he had looked into the distance with a dejected gaze, he spotted a chariot of gold and flame, one that burned as bright as the sun itself, but such a warmth hadn’t caused pain, it felt oddly familiar.
As the mighty horses had pulled with such haste, they eventually halted in front of the curious soul and a man stepped out, his father, Apollo. With a gentle gaze, the sun god held out his arms, “ Son, my dear Xyx, Helios informed me of your tragedy and I have come to offer you my deepest condolences. I know you are filled with thoughts of them, but, fret no more for I come with a solution.” He stared at the man before him, “ A solution? I find it hilarious how after all these years do you only now come to visit. The gods sure love playing the saviour in a mortal’s time of need, do you all possess a sadistic urge for tragedy?” His voice dripped with sarcasm and resentment, his father, the “mighty” Apollo, had never been around when Xyx needed him most when he was but a small child, but yet now that he has grown does he appear?
‘ Oh, how blessed am I to have such a capable father.’ “ Son, I know I haven’t been around much-” “ Much? I know time works differently for you immortals but twenty-nine years isn’t exactly a small amount for me.” His emerald orbs bore into the man towering over him, “ And I am truly sorry for that, however, I think you would prefer to let out your issues with me with your love by your side?” His body froze in shock, what had he just said? Surely he must be joking, right? His jaw dropped, ‘ No, they are dead, does his old man like playing cruel jokes on him? Does he find this hilarious?’
“I know this may come as a shock to you but I had visited Toasty and asked him to grant you an audience, there you may plead for your case and perhaps bring your love back.” The once lifeless and dull eyes had held a speck of hope, the chance to reunite with his beloved had come and so, his stiff posture crumbled like a stone as his knees fell to the ground. For weeks now he had thought he was forever lost, doomed to roam this realm alone without purpose, without his lovely muse to inspire his passion for song.
The god before him had softened his gaze in pity, losing a lover wasn’t unfamiliar to him, but knowing that perhaps his son might get a chance he never could have brought a small smile to his face. He bent down to meet his son's eyes, his golden eyes shined like a beacon of hope in Xyx’s darkened sight. “ Now, surely you wouldn’t want them to see you so,” he helped Xyx back onto his feet, “Get up, go find your life’s purpose and bless the world with your melody.” The brunette mumbled a small thank you, as he had grabbed his lyre and set off onto another journey, he had no time to shed tears, for now, it was time to be a hero and set his love free. He marched for seven days and seven nights until finally, he arrived at the gloomy gates of the Underworld, a place where souls went to rest or endure their punishment for their heinous crimes and offences.
He stood still for a moment, taking a much-needed breath as he prepared to set off into the land of the dead, something he expected to happen one day, but perhaps not so soon. Inside the cavern there was no light, his father’s glorious sun hadn’t shone even a small ray of its light, the only source to guide him where the brightly lit torches as they clung to the walls. The ominous aura gave him a shiver to his spine, although his body begged him to leave as he felt the small touches of the dead souls around him, he would not run away. He was ready to endure torture, the most painful punishment known to mankind as long as he got the chance to hold Y/n in a soft embrace. As he walked further, he entered the throne room of the Underworld’s king, violets and the blues of the night sky decorated the palace as he spotted Toasty sitting on the throne with Queen June by his side.
The two were truly opposites, while they wore a black tunic decorated with silver detailing and a bored expression on their face, the smiling ruler beside had a soft minty colour tunic with flowers filing every surface of the fabric. Xyx would have usually poked fun at the couple's obvious differences, but his longing for Y/n was much stronger than any urge to tease the king before him. “ It seems Apollo wasn’t sputtering nonsense, as usual, I assume you are here for Y/n?” “ That is correct your majesty, I am but a humble musician here to take his spouse back as any rational husband would.” Toasty sighed, why must he always deal with stubborn mortals? He is busy enough as it is, but perhaps he could use a break and entertain the determined poet's idea. “ I would call it foolish than rational but alright, tell me why should I let them go? None of the other souls get this chance so why are they so deserving?”
Xyx’s mind blanked, he hadn’t had the time to think of this situation, his thoughts were filled with fond memories of them and all they had been through together, Gods he truly knew how to mess things up huh? Toasty’s stern stare wasn’t helping either, from their stature to their wardrobe, all of it could tell you who was in charge. The place grew quiet as the gears in his mind kept turning till his inside voices were interrupted by one louder than anything his mind could muster, “Toasty! You shouldn’t be so cruel to him! This poor soul lost someone he held dear, wait… I know how you can prove yourself!” The king raised his eyebrow, what could a mortal such as him do to prove worthy of such a thing? He may have godly parentage but he was not above the very souls that came through the ebony gates. “ Why don’t you sing us a song?” the queen continued, “I have heard many tales from the nymphs above of the beautiful music you play, I’m sure that with the very gift you have been blessed you will be granted your wish!”
Toasty couldn’t help but sigh, that was their queen alright, always willing to lend a hand to a lost soul, had it been up to her the Underworld would have been as empty as the wine pitcher of Dionysus. “ Alright fine, I will bite. Sing us a song, make me laugh, make me weep, only if you succeed will I grant you your muse.” Xyx felt a whirlwind of emotion, on one hand, he was sure he knew how to play but, he couldn’t help but doubt his skills, ‘Do I have what it takes to make him feel something, a creature who has been exposed to many tragedies for centuries?” He had to hold his composure, but the anxiety gnawed at his stomach, ‘ Should I fail I would have practically caused their death twice, I already failed them, how could I live knowing it was my fault? I cannot allow that to happen. I will not screw this up.’
“On one condition.” Toasty stated with a voice that had practically commanded even the smallest of whispers to cease, “ Should you succeed, you will be tasked with taking them to the surface, however, under no condition must you turn back. Am I understood?” He nodded his head and placed the lyre in front of his body, he slowly started strumming, something he hadn’t done in what felt like decades. The melody was soft, his song spoke of the love he felt upon seeing Y/n, the tune along with his voice narrated a story of their love, all the moments they shared, the stolen kisses under the olive tree, and the countless teasing of the loving couple. But then, the song grew quiet for a moment, he spoke of that day. The day he lost everything.
The strings strummed in a rush motion illustrating the chase and capturing of Y/n, everyone in the throne room could feel the same anxiety they felt that day, the utter fear and terror that plagued their veins. The melody then told of their death, his fingers hesitantly strumming as he tried to hold back the grief he had been reminded of, he couldn’t cry, he mustn't, at least not now. Xyx sang his grieving heart out, the strings sung in unison with him, of the suffering he felt during all this time, and of the longing he felt for them to be in his arms again. And finally, the throne room grew quiet again, till he heard the soft sobbing of June, with his eyes facing the two silver thrones he saw not only the queen crying but the king had also failed to keep his composure as small water droplets escaped their eyes.
“ Oh! That was beautiful! I have never in all my years heard such a bittersweet tune, to not have your wish granted would only further break my heart.” She sobbed between her sweet words, too overwhelmed with emotion to stop herself. “ Seeing as though the queen has liked your song, and I must admit, so have I, I shall grant you your wish. But beware of what I had told you beforehand.” The two rulers had softly brushed each other's tears away, showing their love in such a small yet intimate act. “ They will be behind you, remember, do not look back. Or else they will be gone once more.” Xyx was overjoyed, he had come so far and his journey was a success, surely a small walk back to the realm of the living wouldn’t be that bad. As he walked he hummed a small tune, the song the two lovebirds sang whenever they were together, one that never failed to make Gaia weep with joy.
As he sang the soft melody, his mind wandered elsewhere, doubt comes in. The ultimate ruin of man is never a painful cut from a blade, nor the bite of a dog, but rather, his mind is enough to lead him to doom. ‘What if he tricked me? What if I was played a fool and nothing is behind me? Surely they wouldn’t be so cruel? But wait he was the king of the underworld, trickery is familiar to them.’ He tried to keep the little bit of hope he had left, but like a flame, it flickered out and vanished. “ You aren’t there are you Y/n? I’m probably talking to myself, I screwed up everything anyway, maybe meeting Toasty was a form of punishment for casting you into this hell…”
His feet felt heavier, no longer was his strides confident, but cautious, he tried to continue, but ultimately he stopped. “ I am a fool for thinking this could ever work. I know they aren’t there so I will say it now while I can. Thank you Toasty! For making me even more miserable than I was before! All of you gods are cruel creatures and I shall prove you right!” As the words escaped his lips, he turned around. “ Fuck.” He stopped and stared at the figure in front of him, it was them, his beloved, his Y/n. Their figure was translucent, with hints of their (skin colour) skin, replacing the ghastly colour of before. “ Xyx, I hope you know that I will always love you.” They approached him and welcomed him into their embrace, while he stood there, flabbergasted at what he had done. “ Y/n, I- I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to I-” “It’s alright my love, perhaps the fates will reunite us in another life.”
They placed a final kiss on his lips as they began to fade into the darkness of the cavern. During these last moments, the two embraced each other, for this would truly be their last time to do so. Time didn’t spare them as within a matter of seconds their body faded, and Xyx held nothing. He was alone yet again, he had failed them once more as he had predicted. All he was ever good for was causing screwups, he was to blame all of it was his fault he thought. In wild despair he ran back into the living world, his body forming long strides along the green valleys, across fields and meadows till he approached a cliff. He sat there for a few minutes as he stared into the cerulean lake below.
Taken by the deep emptiness within his heart he did the only thing he was ever good at, he took out his lyre and sang. This song was different from the others, this was no tale of love or loss, but rather the melody captured what emptiness felt like, what being soulless was and how nothing had meaning, no emotion behind the words that he sang. As he and his lyre sang, a few steps behind him were a group of followers of the god none other than Dionysus. Their words slurred as their cups filled what seemed an endless amount of wine, their giggles and laughter were the only things that could be heard until their happy expressions turned somber.
Who was playing such a somber tune around them? Today is a happy day, not one to mope around! “ Oi! You there! Stop playing that awful tune! If you are gonna play something, play something happy!” He ignored their angry shouts, too focused on his song, nothing mattered in his life anymore, he was already a monster, and ignoring them wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Anger filled their veins more so than the alcohol that had consumed their mind and rationality and so, like the furries of the underworld they delivered a swift stab.
His body had never felt such a burning pain, but even before he took his dying breath, he stared into the river once more, singing the same song he had heard before he was truly left with nothing, “ Come what may, I will love you till my dying day...” The world had lost its musician, mother earth, her creations and the gods themselves had wept that day. They had all experienced the tragic story of the talented Xyx for one last time, no other human could ever replace what had been lost. Maybe the two lovers would meet in another life, where their love would only further bloom as it had done before.
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Cygnus
pairing: royal!ten x fem!reader x villain!doyoung
genre: angst, smutty elements but not anything too much
word count: 4,8k
warnings: ‘forced’ marriage, mentions of death, blood, stabbing (not too descriptive I promise), manipulation
summary: “When your father, the king, gets brutally assasinated in his royal quarters, you realise how big of a threat the opposing Indigo kingdom really is. In order to further protect both your kingdoms, prince Ten proposes a unification by proposing to you. Amidst your duty as his queen and your inappropriate meetups with your royal advisor, Doyoung, you’re not sure where your heart really belongs”
a/n: This fic has a lot of referencing of the past. Just to clarify: if a part is written in the past tense and is inside the separators, it’s y/n recounting past events
requested by/written for my dear French Anon ❤️❤️ I hope you like it 🥰
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The starry night spreads like a veil over the kingdom. Your kingdom, ever since your head was adorned with a veil of your own. The moonlight, pale and bright, illuminates all the stories of the night. From the mothers that kiss their children goodnight, praying that the impending war doesn’t find them in their adolescence, to the whispering silhouettes of the King’s traitors, plotting with the opposing kingdom to overrule his reign.
Like the weeping willows of your royal garden, you sit alone in the dance hall’s balcony, gazing at the sky’s unknown that always felt so comfortable to you. How dull and drab you must look, even in the ornate gown you were in, amidst all the decorations and joyous music of your wedding’s one year anniversary. Maids, peasants, guards- they all congratulated you on your happy marriage, wishing the queen a long life of prosperity. Even Sirius, the prettiest diamond in the sky, seemed to shine like a spotlight for tonight’s celebration.
“y/n? It’s time for our royal dance.”
You recognized the silky voice to be that of the King’s, your longest companion other than the stars. In spite of all of your misery, Ten, the man you swore to hold in weakness and in health, till death do you part, was someone you valued deeply.
You first met the prince in your early teens, travelling to his neighboring kingdom with your father. He was still a young boy, bothered with the blemishes on his face and excited to play with the snow covering the windowsills of his room. The only person who could relate with the insecurities and troubles of an heir like yourself.
“Why are the peasants hungry while we throw away most of our food?”
"Why does the Indigo kingdom want to declare war on us when we both have enough wealth to live on?"
"Do you think that when we grow up, we will become just like our parents?"
The prince was thoughtful and gentle, a pacifist in the wrong position. Talented in the arts, in dance, in anything that is as beautiful as he is.
His beloved subjects do not know it, but the nickname Ten, was given to him by you.
It was probably the third time you met the prince, excited to spend time with your only friend just a day before your 15th birthday. He had been bugging you over what you wanted from him as a present, the beautiful jewelry and dresses his father gifted you seeming too impersonal to him. You shook off his offers, insisting that him being there with you, in your castle’s terrace, was more than enough.
You were gazing at your beloved stars and he was gazing at you, rambling on and on about the celestial objects in the sky.
“And what star is this?”, he asked curiously, eyes reflecting the constellations and sparkling in the night. Chittaphon, unlike the countless teachers insisting astronomy for a princess was useless, was endlessly entertained by your knowledge and always thirsty to learn more. His finger was pointing at Deneb, one of the brightest stars of the night sky.
“This star is part of a greater ten-star constellation, Cygnus”
“Cygnus?”
“It means swan in greek”, you explained and he squinted his eyes cutely, trying to find the resemblance to the bird.
“According to greek mythology, Phaethon, the son of Helios the sun god, demanded to ride his father’s sun chariot for a day. Unfortunately, he
was unable to control the reins, forcing Zeus to destroy the chariot with a thunderbolt, with Phaethon drowning in the river Eridanus where it fell. Phaethon's lover, Cygnus, dived into the river for days on end to collect Phaethon's bones, in order to give him a proper burial. The gods were so touched by Cygnus's devotion and deep grief, that they turned him into a swan and placed him among the stars.”
Chittaphon, intrigued by the story, stopped plucking out the roots of the grass you were sitting on, and decided to lay his head comfortably on your lap. His hair looked so pretty that you couldn’t help but run your fingers through its softness, the intimacy making your heart skip a beat.
“That is my greatest fear”
You were so lost in your contentment that you’d almost miss his whispered confession. Placing your hands on his cheeks carefully, you turn his face so that he looks at you, and it takes everything in you not to lean down and kiss his pout away.
“Hm?”
“What if, when I finally take the reins of my father’s kingdom, I end up ‘drowning’ as well? What if I’m too weak to control them and someone stronger than me decides to destroy me?”
With a sigh, you look back up to the sky. As an only child and therefore sole heiress, the worry of leading a kingdom was the main cause of your night scares as well. You were just teenagers, still figuring out yourselves, but Chittaphon wasn’t some ditzy child. He didn’t care about the lushes and gold, he wasn’t power hungry. His idealism and ethos were admirable, and you felt safe knowing that when the time comes, he would be your ally.
“You’ll make a great king one day”
He smiles up at you, his happiness lighting up the night sky. He always shone the brightest.
“You really mean that?”
“I do. And if you don’t, I promise to collect your bones and bury you properly”
He laughed heartily at your joke, and you continued to braid his locks, counting the freckles on his face until your heartbeats synced with the other.
You just laid there, thinking the prince had fallen asleep in your arms, when he spoke again.
“I don’t know how, but one day I’ll gift you those ten stars. And it will be the best birthday present you’ll ever receive”
That’s how you got through adolescence, holding on to Ten’s promise, and dreaming of whatever life might offer you. And life seemed to be gentle on you, up until a couple of years ago. Up until the incident.
Ten takes your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles tenderly with his thumb, and leads you to the dance hall. The skin is scabbed and rough from you compulsively scrubbing it every time you take a bath. You’d watch the water endlessly run through your fingers, yet no amount of soap could flush the memory of the deep red of your father’s blood staining them.
It was a Friday like any other, a walk in the royal gardens at 6 and then your waltz dance class at 7. You replayed the new choreography over and over in your head, drunk in your instructor’s praises and wanting to show off. Skipping the steps of the stairwell leading up to the king’s room, you wish you had taken a jacket with you. Goosebumps started appearing on your arms, both from the cool night breeze and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on.
Your father was the reason you started waltz lessons. “One day you’re going to marry a man to queendom and you’ll better be able to keep up with me on our father-daughter dance”. You’d just giggle and tell him you had plenty of time till that day, you were just stepping on your twenties, no reason to step on a dancefloor too! But alas, one dance recital from Ten and your father was sold on the idea of getting you to take some lessons. You chuckled to yourself. Come to think of it, your father just really loved Ten.
You reach the heavy door of his suite, opened by just a slice. While there was light coming from the room, illuminating the hallway you were standing at, there was no one guarding it. You found it a little strange that the guard’s huge frame didn’t block your way from your father like he like always did, yet you were happy. Your father always acted colder to you around him.
“Dad, dad, look what I learned toda-“
The sight of his cold, lifeless body brought you to your knees. The cause of death was obvious, with the dagger shoved deep inside his guts, but if you asked anyone in the kingdom, they’d tell you he died from a bad heart. He loved heavy food, and alcohol, the meals suited to a king. No one other than a select few could know that the king was assassinated in his own bedroom.
But that was not your only secret.
You don’t know how, but Ten has managed to finally drag you in the middle of the dance hall. Your shoes clack against the marbled floors and the music brings you momentarily back to the now that you want to escape so badly. The music sounds familiar, you think, and you stay still for a second, trying to identify the song.
Your king brings you closer, one hand steady on your waist, the other keeping your fingers intertwined. He hums to the tune and looks at you with those eyes, those dark eyes that always hold a certain sadness in them. And when he starts to lead, it finally hits you that this is the song you got engaged to.
It was Ten’s idea, actually. With the rumours of a murder travelling to the neighboring kingdoms, including the Indigo kingdom making statements of invasive strategies against you, a form of alliance was clearly needed to be made.
He showed up to the royal conference room, all dressed up and holding a bouquet of red roses. You could hear his heart thumping as he approached you, his hands sweaty and clammy when he held yours.
“My queen, there is no denying our kingdoms are in a crisis”. His familiar voice was comforting to you, yet the words seemed too formal to be leaving Ten’s mouth. “The Indigo kingdom has indirectly declared war on you. They are powerful, especially with the weapons they possess. And their men are notorious to be ruthless and as cold as ice.”
You gulped visibly, your mouth getting dry at the thought of your people getting as violently killed as your father. Looking at any place possible other than his eyes, you wondered why he took the time to pay you a visit, just to point out the things that you were already more than worried about.
“My kingdom has great soldiers, skilled and apt in martial arts, yet they miss one thing, one thing that your peaceful kingdom can offer mine. Your servants love you, my queen, and they are willing to do anything for you”. He stops and takes a breath, handing you the bouquet he had been holding in his other hand. “I know I would”
The sweet scent that hits your nose matches his sentiment, yet the glossiness in his eyes -that you finally picked up the courage to face- told you things would get bitter soon.
“Are you suggesting we form an alliance for the war? Our kingdoms might be on good terms now, yet our predecessors used to be enemies for hundreds of years. There is still a lot of mistrust weaved in the hearts of the people.”
“I know”, he said, his voice breaking lightly. A thorn from the bouquet pricked your skin as you saw him fall down on one knee, a drop of blood falling from your finger as a teardrop stained your face. “That’s why I am asking for your hand in marriage. Let our kingdoms become one”
You were the one who said ‘I do’, yet the decision was already taken for you. Your whole life, in fact, was painted right in front of your eyes, hues of marsala reds and hunter greens. Hues like the ones Ten put on his palette almost every night before you go to sleep.
You and Ten had never slept together. He insisted that it was never his intention when marrying you, and he’d completely respect your boundaries. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t had a thought of laying with him, as you helped him remove the drying paint off his fingers every night. You couldn’t ignore the twitch of your sensitivity as he saw you changing into your silk robe and nightgown, nor the heat of your face when he called you beautiful. His pretty voice was made for begging and teasing and singing out moans. With his flexibility and core strength, you could only imagine what he’d be like in the bedroom. Just the image of his feline eyes looking up at you from between your thighs sent chills down your spine.
That being said, you always felt a bit annoyed by his chivalry as he slipped through to the guest room to spend the night. Through his proposal, he had ridden you of the chance to choose your other half, doomed you to endless nights of loneliness and a cold half of the bed. He should’ve at least taken responsibility.
Not even the guards could know that the two of you didn’t share a bed, the alliance holding on the thin thread of facade you played out for everyone. Sweet kisses in the breakfast room, fake smiles and the silent mourning of your freedom. But that wasn’t your only secret.
You see a hand tapping lightly the velvet shoulderpads of the King’s suit, causing you to halt your dancing. A man, about half a head taller than Ten, successfully steals his attention from you.
“My king, may I steal the lovely queen for a dance?”
Kim Doyoung.
Tall, nice-mannered, lethally handsome. Your father’s trustiest advisor ever since he turned 18 and one of the most respected men in the castle. If the king is the jungle’s lion, then Doyoung surely is a jaguar, attacking his enemies unexpectedly, emerging from their blind spot. He is also your secret.
Kim was the one who found you crying over your fathers body, notifying the knights of the murder since you had no voice to scream for help. He offered you a shoulder to lean on during your grief, while helping you manage the kingdom in your inexperience. It was inevitable to come closer to the man you spent countless hours with at the royal meetings, who you wined and dined with daily, who led you through your duties and made everything make a little bit more sense.
The attraction you felt for him however, well, that was on you.
It started one night, warm like this one, when the diplomatic settlements with a new kingdom took way too long to figure out, and the pair of you were stuck in his personal office at the early hours of the morning.
Your hair was a frizzy mess, eyebags darkening the thin skin of your under eyes and all you could focus on was the ink slowly spilling from the metal tip of your pen. And Doyoung, though hardworking and diligent as always, showed the signs of exhaustion as well, stretching his neck from side to side to release the tension.
A crack from his joints grabbed your attention, or rather his skin that was glowing in the limelight.
He was wearing a beautiful silk shirt, the fabric matching his rich stature and highlighting the delicate lines of his body. His collarbones, sharp like him, peeked from the buttons he had been unfastening, one by one, all the while keeping his eyes on yours.
Your mind wandered under his stare that did nothing short of stealing all oxygen from your lungs. Every slither of your bare skin that landed on it was starting to burn up, and you assumed that’s what his touch must feel like as well. You imagined unbuttoning the rest of his shirt yourself, giving his shoulders a little massage to help him relax. You’d run your hands down this torso, marking it lightly with your fingernails, until you felt that little line of hair right over his pelvis.
The thought is too sinful, so you return to the document in front of you, yet all of your concentration dissolves when the advisor suddenly places the back of his hand against your forehead. His touch is cool and refreshing against your hot skin, yet the proximity only raised the temperature of your body more.
“My queen, you look exhausted. Have you been sleeping properly since the… incident?”
You wince at the memory and shove it down your subconscious again, shaking your head as if the dark thoughts would just brush off of you.
“Not really. I keep tossing and turning. I lay on my bed and I just feel so- so lonely.”
Immediately realising how suggestive your words sound you put your hand over your lips, but Doyoung removes them, taking your raised hand in his and kissing the top.
“My duty as your advisor is to rid you of your worries, my queen. Apparently, I’m not doing a good job, so tell me”. You let your eyes fall on his plush lips, holding your breath as his sweet talk leaves them. He mouths the next words against your wrist, and you can feel every movement of his mouth against your sensitive skin. “What can I do to relieve your stress?”
You can’t stop staring at the smoothness of the junction of his neck so you leave a light layer of your lipstick on it, the pink hue against his pale skin reeling you back to reality.
“Advisor, this is not right”, you try to excuse, “I cannot allow myself to take advantage of your duties like that”
Your eyes stay glued on his neck, and you watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in a chuckle. He guides your hand, that is still in his grasp, and boldy places it over his thigh, your pinky finger grazing against a hardness that is most definitely his-
“Can’t you see what you do to me? What does a man have to do to be yours for the night?”
And that’s how he ended up tangled in your sheets every night, sneaking in your room silently so that the guards don’t notice him.
“It’s been one year, huh?”
You smell the citrusy after notes of wine in his breath, his lips slightly stained by the liquid. He looks just as addictive as the alcohol he consumed tonight, covered in the silk fabric that he loves so much.
“Have you been drinking again?”
“What else am I supposed to do when I see my queen dancing with that bastard?”
“That bastard is your king, yet you talk so lowly of him”
“And that king is your husband, but you were moaning my name on your wedding night”
You had changed into a white nightgown, the ivory dress discarded on your bathroom’s floor. The beads that were delicately weaved into the wedding gown sure were heavy, but that was not the reason you felt so suffocated in it. You had to sit there for hours, resenting everyone who made a toast for the husband and wife. The celebrations seemed endless, the wine abundant, their laughs maniacal. Your wedding ceremony was the image of luxury and opulence, yet you felt so poor.
Your feet led you to his room on their own, swollen and cut from all the dancing in heels. When Doyoung saw you, angry and choked up with all the injustice you felt, he offered to do what he was the best at. Distract you with his touches, his wet kisses, his sweet nothings.
A pang of guilt ran through you the moment your back hit the wall, his body trapping you between the cold surface and the overwhelming heat of his body. You wondered if Ten was still sleeping in your newlyweds’ suite, if he was pretending that he dozed off, what he was thinking. You knew you were selfish for only thinking about your feelings, as if you were the only one forced into this marriage. But then Doyoung’s fingers danced on the hem of your dress, and your mind would go blank with lust.
“This is wrong”, you said out loud, a statement directed mostly at yourself rather than Doyoung.
“You coming here?”
“This. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to come this close to you”
“Divorce him”
You blinked back at him a couple times, trying to register what came so nonchalantly out of his mouth.
“Out of all people, advisor, you know exactly why I can’t”
His hand slid upwards, following the heat of your core, yet his fingers never touched where you needed him most. Small indentations were formed on the softness of your thighs, caused by his rings, and you wished the marks would stay forever. The shirt he wore as his sleepwear was oversized on his small frame, the iris tattooed on his shoulder peeking out from the fabric, as if it flowered on his skin.
“Out of all people, my queen, you know I can give you so much more than him”
As if knowing you’d argue with him, he started to nibble the skin on the middle of your neck, forcing your voice to bubble out muffled and weary.
“But advisor-“
“Say my name”
He let the pad of his finger fick your clit, and you moan “Doyoung” out, the name addictive on the tip of your tongue. So you say it again.
“Doyoung, I need you”
You felt his grin clearly against your skin, you wetness dripping on his fingers and covering his rings. His next words came out with a gravelly sound:
“I might hurt you, my queen”
Your whole life was laid out in front of you, from the wedding ring that weighted down your finger, to you laying on your royal deathbed, looking back at a lifetime that was never really yours. A linear progression to unhappiness, but you hated straight lines.
“I want it to hurt”
Doyoung brings your body closer to yours, perhaps way closer than the etiquette allows, his hand on your lower waist sliding as near to your ass so as not to raise suspicion. He dips his head forward in a way that makes you think he’d leave a tipsy and careless kiss on your lips, but he whispers in your ear instead.
“Why haven’t you left him already?” The question is bold, especially between all these people, especially in the celebration of the wedding he asks you to break off. “I thought you said you’re mine”
“I am, but-“, your head moves towards the king’s direction, whose eyes are boring holes through the pair of you. You feel so small under his stare, suddenly feeling dirty.
“He doesn’t even love you”
There is a weird feeling bubbling in your stomach when you finally make eye contact with Ten, all his forms in which you’ve seen him through the years running in your mind. The innocent boy who became your best friend, the uncertain teenager who became your first love. The empathetic king, the mourning friend. The dependable spouse.
“But you do”, Doyoung concludes incredulously, his right eyebrow raised. It’s as if he tied together the pieces of a big jigsaw puzzle, the disappointment and anger and determination all trying to fit in his handsome features.
A hand draws your body away from Doyoung quite aggressively, and you quickly realise it’s Ten who has caught up with you. He intertwines your fingers together, pulling you into your previous dancing position but something is different this time.
“Times up. My wife’s too precious of a gem to let go of for longer”
Doyoung scoffs lightly, but hides it with a small bow to his king, leaving the two of you alone like he was asked. The tension between you and Ten is so thick it felt like all the lies you’ve told your kingdoms liquified into a thick substance that’s suffocating you now. His fingers are digging in your hips, in a possessive manner that’s a first for him, and he takes a deep breath before speaking.
“Do you ever think of me when you’re having sex with him?”
The question catches you so off guard that you ungraciously step on his feet, wobbling on your heels until he helps you find your balance.
“Why would you ask that?”
Now, you weren’t trying to play clueless, you know Ten is smart. You see the way he studies you and Doyoung, how he catches your secret glances, the electric touches. He surely has figured out where you sneak off every night and whose cologne you reek off the next morning. What you don’t understand, is where all his dislike for your advisor stems from.
Ten just chuckles bitterly, letting a puff through his nose, with a face of almost disgust when he looks at you.
“I don’t understand why I feel this way. I don’t understand why I care about you when you’re plotting with him against me. Why I feel jealous every time I see his filthy hands on you, or why I still think you deserve better.”
Plotting against him?
You’re left with a mouth gaped open, his harsh words both hurting you and confusing you as his voice gets even more strict than before.
“I thought maybe if I asked you to marry me you’d slowly distance yourself from him. I thought that maybe, just maybe, you reciprocate a handful of all the things I feel for you. But you still stay by his side, hanging from his every word”, he says it all in one breath and his eyes are watery when he addresses you again. “How can you sleep soundly next to me when you’re fucking the man that killed your father?”
A buzzing sound rings in your ears and you realise that you’re one breath away from falling apart.
And just like that, everything makes sense.
Why Doyoung was the first to find your father’s body, why the assasination seemed like an inside job. His sudden romantic interest in you and his pleas to have him as your king instead.
The indigo flower that decorated his body.
Ten shakes you a little, worried now at your sudden stiffness and the loss of blood from your face. He didn’t expect this reaction from you, didn’t expect to see your body shake with anger like this. You seem even more shocked than he was when he found out about Doyoung’s true nature, but, aren’t you the advisor’s accomplice in the plot of his overruling?
“Wait, all this time- you didn’t know?”
Ten’s eyes widen as his body jerks forward, and you barely manage to catch him in your arms. A woman’s shriek resonates in the dance hall; the musicians halt their playing with a scratchy sound of the strings that stretch out of tune. And then you see the blood, staining the marble floor under Ten in small drops. You also see Doyoung emerging from behind him, with a maniacal look on his face, and a dagger in his hands.
All hell breaks loose. The unarmed guests scream in fear, urging outside the dance hall in flocks. Glasses of wine shatter on the floor, women leave their heels behind in their hastiness to save themselves. You see the knights running in your direction, creating a shield of protection for you and the king, yet you notice that not all of them have gathered around you. A good part of them stand next to Doyoung, his face distorted in a mischievous grin. The extent of the betrayal in your kingdom shocks you, but when the first knight launches forward with his sword, you know you need to get Ten out of there immediately.
Throwing Ten’s arm over your shoulder, you drag him with difficulty all the way to the balcony, desperately trying to mute out the shrill sound of swords clashing in the process. You manage to bring him to safety, laying him down carefully in the same spot he found you in before, his head on your lap. After unbuttoning his shirt, you inspect the stab under his ribcage, and you swallow a scream at the sight of the deep wound. The most you can do is rip a big piece of cloth from your skirt, tying it up tightly around his waist, and wait until the fight is over.
You see clear drops falling on his face that is turning sickly pale and you realise you’re crying. Holding his face between your hands, you get reminded of those days you went starseeing, of those moments of absolute peace with him that you wished would last forever. His body is cold and the cloth is turning burgundy, but he has the most tranquil smile on his face as he looks up at you.
“Stay with me, please”, you sob over his rigid body, hugging it tightly as if his existence will just slip right through your fingers. “Live with me, and I’ll gift you all the stars in the sky”
#neowritingsnet#nct angst#ten angst#doyoung angst#nct scenarios#ten fic#doyoung fic#ten smut#doyoung smut#ten scenarios#doyoung scenario#ten imagine#doyoung imagine#wayv angst#chittaphon#wayv#nct
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pet names
ty for the tag @heli0s-writes, this was fun<3
Rating nicknames/petnames in Reader-insert fics:
mommy/daddy: 0/10 in most cases, it's not my cup of tea BUT if the fic is delicious then i will endure
darling: 8/10..ill pass out
doll: 1/10 and as helios said, it is reserved for bucko and he has a max number of uses
slut/whore: negative 10000/10, grounds for me to click off a fic
baby: 8/10
love: 2/10 only bc i get flashbacks to a frat party in college where this guy would not stop referring to every single girl as 'love'
bae: 0/10
kitten: 7/10
puppy: 2/10
cow: 0/10 dlskfjsldkfj moo
A few more as a bonus added:
bunny: 8/10...more recently discovered for me
princess: 9/10 ... a favorite
sweetie: 0/10
sweetheart: 8/10...a classique
dear: 5/10
honey: 10/10 probably my fav pet name if u couldnt tell from my own fics lmao
More bonuses:
baby girl: 3/10 unless its sam wilson then 10/10
kitty cat: 0/10 meow
sweet girl: 10/10 ill DIE
sweet thing: 4/10
gorgeous: 8/10
little mouse: 0/10
pretty girl: 10/10 ill die once more
Tagging if you would like: @bbygrgu @barnesandco @phen0l @thedevilwearsvibranium @prettyiwa @asilentshout @alert-arlert @miekasa
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Light blue eyes gleamed a brilliant shade of periwinkle as they glimmered with tears- yet managed to be so dull as he cried out. He grasped at your arms, trembling fingers leaving indents under their force. "Helios!! Please, please...don't do this again. Why are you doing this again?" Chongyun cried out- voice wavering with every stuttering breath. Xingqiu was oddly silent behind him, left hand clutching onto the sleeve of Chongyun's sweater- his right hand grasping at his vision; which held the matching charm you gave the two of them. "I never thought you'd stoop so low...did...did we do something wrong, our dear Helios?" He practically whispered, gaze glued to the ground even as he tried to comfort his boyfriend.
"Or...do you just not love us anymore?" Chongyun rasped, gaze slowly growing cold as he practically folded in on himself- arms crossed over his chest, shoulders rolled forward as if trying to hide himself from you. Slowly, but not carefully, he knelt on the ground. He refused to look up, too afraid of what he'd see if he looked at you. Hatred? Disgust? Or maybe...maybe mercy? Maybe at least a bit of the love you would stare at them with? "Please, please, don't leave us again! I won't- we won't-- I don't know what we did, but we can fix it...right?"
Xingqiu gasped and turned back to you with wide, tearful- but hopeful eyes. "Or- Or maybe this is all some prank! It's a prank, ri-right? Like the ones we play on dear Chongyun sometimes?" He smiled wide, too wide-- "This is just something Hu Tao set you up to...we're okay, aren't we?" He trailed off, choking back a sob as he tried to keep his strong front up- too scared to admit he'd lose one of the two people he loved the most in this world. "You...wouldn't do something so cruel unless someone else put you up to it...?"
Chongyun fell silent other than the stray hiccups and tears and looked up at you, a soft smile slowly settling in- but it was more desperate than anything as he mumbled.
"You still love us...right?"
congrats on being my first poly fic, hope I did okay- i don't usually ship characters so it might seem a bit strange </3
Ate Ky...
The ask is blank-
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hellooo it's me again! heard you like angst sooo MLQC Dictionary Prompts: 'shatter' + angst + kiro, please 💕
Shatter., v.
At first glance, you're nothing but a big ball of energy, a ray of sunshine shining down on earth as people look up to you with awe and adoring gazes.
When we first met, the first thing I noticed about you was your hair and how it shines when sunlight hits it. Yellow, like the sun and maybe this is the reason why people say you’re a sunshine.
The next I noticed about you was your eyes- clear blue like a cloudless day, the perfect weather for picnics and adventures. I love looking at your eyes so much because it mirrors your emotions-whether you’re happy or sad or indignant because Savin found your secret stash, I could immediately see it just by one glance at your eyes.
And of course, how could I forget the smile on your mouth? That one single smile that makes everyone swoon, the warm smile that can melt anyone’s heart, and the mouth that often speaks only encouraging words…
Hmm. I see now why you’ve earned the title of the Sun. Not just by your looks but because of your warm personality as well. A ray of sunshine indeed. But you know what else I think of when I hear the word sun?
Greek God of the Sun, Helios.
It’s quite ironic that the persona behind Helios is nothing like you.
When I first met him, his hair stood out- being an unnatural shade of silver that reminds me of a fresh snow. It doesn’t shine when the sunlight hits it but it refracts, instead.
The color of his eyes, while it’s blue- it doesn’t look as clear as yours- I don’t know how to put it but the color looks dull, and cloudy, and most of all looks cold and I couldn’t help but think whenever I look at his eyes that it’s the wrong shade of blue belonging to someone else. The color of his eyes is wrong, wrong, wrong!
And his mouth- always set in a firm line or scowling whenever he sees me. The smile on his face looked sinister and malicious, a predator lying in wait for his prey. The words spilling from his mouth are always taunting and gloating and devoid of life.
Hah. Are you seeing what I’m seeing? Helios is the moon to your sun, Kiro. Two sides of the coin. Now I understand how anyone couldn’t have mistaken Helios for Kiro because they are nothing alike and I now understand how you managed to fool me back then.
But look, Kiro and Helios…while they are one and the same, they do not depict you, right? They don’t- they’re still hiding the real you, am I wrong?
Kiro- Helios… you’re both an illusion aren’t you?
Because no matter what your eyes look like- whether they’re clear blue of a sunny day or stormy blue of a cold wariness, they don’t show what you wanted- really wanted to convey: that there’s tiredness behind those eyes. I can’t…it’s about haze and fog that no one dared to venture.
And the mouth that either display a warm smile or a sinister one- the mouth that spouts encouraging words and harsh truths…there are things that still left unsaid.
So what do you do with illusio-
What? Oh, don’t look at me like that, Kiro. Don’t look at me like I’ve figured you out- like I’ve seen through your illusions and had put the real pieces together because, the thing is… I haven’t and I… don’t know how.
Not yet.
Hello. Yes, you can see that I had...gotten lost in writing this piece. And to clarify any confusion, yes it’s connected to the word shatter because.... well, it’s actually hidden somewhere in there why it’s connected to the word.
Anyway, angst! I am living for angst and yeah, this is the first angst I’ve written- aside from that Shaw fic but hey. I’m loving all of these.
and hold it right there! I can’t believe I’ve written an angst piece for dear ole KIRO! I think I’ve told Anna-senpai how much my heart breaks for this boyo. I mean- I think all of the guys are setting me for a heartbreak but this guy- goooosh I’m just- I couldn’t take it. I can’t hurt him- not like this.
PS: I’m listening to the mlqc bgm used in Darkest Hour PV. (I FREAKING LOVE THAT BGM)
Anyway, send me some more prompts!
MLQC Dictionary Prompts!
#belovedstill#dearie i am in pain#but like the good kind of pain#mlqc#Mlqc fanfic#mlqc prompts#MLQC Dictionary#mlqc kiro#mlqc zhou qiluo#mr love queen’s choice#mr. love queen’s choice#mldd#mr. love dream date#mr love dream date#koi to producer#love x evol
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Dad Tim & Uncle Rhys Part 2
It’s me, back to self-indulgent fic writing!! I’m just going to call this mess Dad Tim & Uncle Rhys, so if you’re curious, here’s part one of it!
Rhys didn’t know what to do with Timothy’s son.
For the most part, no one around the building, Rhys included, ever saw or heard Phoenix. He would sit quietly in his father’s office, entertaining himself while Timothy worked diligently.
And he was a good worker. Still too paranoid and awkward to really talk to anyone around the office much, but surprisingly skilled in negotiations, meetings, and presentations. Rhys was sometimes chilled by how much like Handsome Jack that Tim could manage to sound. But he always got his work done on time, usually early. He seemed to enjoy having a purpose again.
But on the occasion that he had to go into some type of meeting, he couldn’t bring his son. Rhys, taking pity on him, had agreed to let Phoenix sit in his office and tell him some of the stories from Pandora that the kid wanted to hear.
He had just meant to do it a few times, really. Just while Phoenix adjusted to the separation from Tim. The poor kid always paced anxiously until Tim returned to collect him, and then he’d cling to Tim for dear life.
But now it had somehow become a common thing for Tim to drop Phoenix off with Rhys. And, quite frankly, Rhys didn’t know what to do with him.
Even now, Phoenix was pacing on the other side of the office, tattered bear clutched to his chest as he waited for Tim to return. Tim had, thankfully, taken to telling Phoenix he’d be an hour or so longer than he actually expected, just in case he ran late. It kept Phoenix from panicking most of the time.
Phoenix slowed his pacing as he noticed Rhys’s bookshelf. He approached it curiously, glancing at Rhys for permission as he held his hand out towards it.
“Uh, I don’t think you’ll be able to read any of those,” he said. “But go for it, I guess?”
Phoenix pulled down a book with the Hyperion logo on it. He sat on the floor and flipped the book open, looking through it. After a few minutes, he lifted it and carried it over to Rhys’s desk.
He pointed at a picture of Helios. “That’s Helios? That’s what you crashed?”
Rhys had tried to water down his adventures on Pandora to a child appropriate level, but he had admitted to crashing Helios and destroying the eye that Handsome Jack had been trapped in. Hey, it wasn’t a bedtime story, but the kid didn’t seem to mind.
“Yes,” Rhys said.
“Did’ja kill anyone when you did it?” he said.
Rhys jerked back, startled by the question. Phoenix looked genuinely curious, like killing a bunch of people was just another part of the day for most people.
Rhys didn’t think he’d ever adjust to the fact that this kid had lived his whole life in a casino full of homicidal maniacs that wanted to kill his dad for looking like Handsome Jack. How the hell had he gotten stuck babysitting him?
“Um, well, uh, I’m s-sure some people didn’t...exactly...uh...make it out?” he said nervously.
Phoenix nodded, like death was expected. He flipped the pages, stopping as he came to an image of Handsome Jack.
“Asshole,” he said quietly.
“So, um, you l-like picture books?” Rhys said, not wanting to go down shared trauma road with a little kid.
“Uh-huh. I dunno how to read good yet,” he said, flipping to the next page. “Dad’s trying to teach me. But I like the pictures.”
Picture books. Right. Rhys could do that.
He got up and went over the bookshelf, scanning through everything until he came to a guide to Promethea. He took it down, flipping through it to make sure it was primarily composed of pictures, and then went over to his desk and handed it to Phoenix.
“There, that’s a guide to Promethea. It has pictures of a lot of the things here,” he explained.
Phoenix’s eyes lit up a little and he clutched the book tightly, tucking his bear under his arm to have a better grip. He went into the corner of the room, sitting down with the new book and angling himself so that he could see both Rhys and the door. He began to flip through it.
Rhys had to give it to the kid that he was at least quiet and out of the way. Rhys was able to work well even with Phoenix in the room.
He always did feel pity whenever someone came into his office, though. Phoenix would freeze, going so still and silent that most people didn’t even notice him there. On the rare occasion that someone did see him, Phoenix would tense up, looking ready to flee if they took a step towards him.
Now, though, he just sat there and looked through the book. Relieved to have quieted him for the day, Rhys returned to his work.
But after a while of silence, he looked up to make sure Phoenix was even still there.He was surprised to see Phoenix sitting with a hand pressed to his mouth and tears on his cheeks.
“Hey, you okay?” Rhys said in alarm. Tim would kill him if anything happened to Phoenix.
“It’s so much.” Phoenix’s voice cracked as he spoke. He looked up, fresh tears spilling onto his cheeks. “There’s- There’s-” He gestured to the book. “It’s so much.”
Rhys was mortified when Tim chose that moment to enter the office.
“Hey, I’m b-” His eyes widened and he hurried over, dropping beside his son and immediately pulling him into his arms. He shot a deadly look at Rhys. “Rhys, why is he crying?”
“I don’t know!” Rhys said in alarm. Oh, god, Zer0 wasn’t even here to keep Tim from killing Rhys. This was such a shitty day. “He said something about that book being too much! I was just trying to give him pictures to look at! Please don’t kill me. Or please wait until Zer0 gets back so I at least stand a chance.”
“Hey,” Tim said, and it always shocked Rhys to hear Jack’s voice so soft and soothing. “Hey, pal, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? Can I make it better?”
Phoenix swiped an arm across his eyes and pointed at the book again. “Dad, it’s so much.”
“That’s all he keeps saying,” Rhys babbled nervously. “I don’t know what he means. It’s just a book about Promethea.”
Tim’s expression turned sad. He flipped through the book, balancing Phoenix in one arm before standing up.
“Sorry I kinda snapped at you there, Rhys,” he said. He set the book on Rhys’s desk. “He lived his whole life in the casino. Since we got to Promethea, he’s only been in our house, the store, and my work. He...didn’t know how big it was here. It’s got to be overwhelming.”
“Oh.” Rhys felt stupid for not realizing. “Sorry, Phoenix. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“We can see it all?” Phoenix asked, wiping at his eyes again.
Tim gave him a small smile. “Sure, pal. It might take us a while to see it all because it’s so big here. But if you want to see it all, that’s what we’ll do.”
“There’s a park about twenty minutes from here,” Rhys said without stopping to think about the words leaving his mouth. “I could show you tomorrow since you’re off.”
Phoenix’s eyes lit up a little. “Really? You’ll take us, boss guy?”
“O-Oh, I, um, I can...circle it on a map?” Rhys said weakly.
“He’ll take us,” Tim assured Phoenix. Tim smiled pleasantly at Rhys. “Especially because Rhys here knows I don’t like to see you cry, and you’d be very upset if he redacted the offer.”
“What’s that mean?” Phoenix said. “You used a big word, dad.”
“Don’t worry about it, pal. Just know that Rhys will take us tomorrow. Say thank you to the boss guy for being so nice, Phoenix,” Tim said.
“Thanks, boss guy!” Phoenix said. He looked so damn excited that Rhys couldn’t bring himself to argue.
Tim nodded to Phoenix’s excited face. “That? That’s what I like to see, Rhys.” He grinned smugly. “See you tomorrow, boss.”
He left the office with Phoenix in his arms. Rhys stared after them, groaning as the door shut.
He was supposed to be the boss guy. How the hell did Tim end up sucking him into being a tour guide?
He thought of that excited little face and groaned again. Phoenix had taken a liking to him, which meant Rhys better play nice if he didn’t want to face Tim’s wrath. He was never hiring without a damn interview again, that was for sure.
Part 3
#borderlands#timothy lawrence#borderlands rhys#rhys strongfork#borderlands fic#borderlands au#My writing
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Not exactly new, but felt like coloring it. Helping brainstorm some things for eventually flash backs dear ol’ Zhang. Some new scar ideas. “Wandering” burn scars. Touch the ports and he’ll break your hand.
Still chipping away at the next chapter for this fic. Helios is going to talk his ear off as always. May learn some new things about our babbling friend.
Also it’s been so long since i picked up my drawing tablet and man do I miss it. Coloring was liberating for a bit.
#xcom#xcom 2#xcom zhang#shaojie zhang#cw gore#cw nudity#cw morbid#cw blood#digital art#artwork#jane audron art#xcom au#XCOM 2 WOTC#Fic: Wandering Souls#art#my art#jaart#art of Jane Audron
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Omg, i just read your dionysus fic, over indulgence, and holy shit, it was amazing! I really liked how you characterised him, and reader too, i just dont know what to say other than i absolutely loved it! I'd love to see more hades content! Maybe with Ares this time? He is always so smug, and somehow can be both very intimidating while staying super polite.... Im howwible with prompts, but maybe one where reader is a priestess of athena and somehow catches ares's attention?
I hope you don’t mind stuff rough. I hope this satisfies your want for Ares, Anon!
In the game, Athena and Ares don’t seem to really like each other all that much, so I figured any priest/priestesses or disciples of her would have been warned about him. It also made sense for me that many of those people would double as great warriors/soldiers skilled at defense, but also in battle overall.If you’re looking for something warm and soft, please turn back. I really can’t see Ares in a gentle light, and this fic will contain blood/bloodplay, biting, bruising, and Ares getting a kick of out it all. Dubcon only because Reader agrees to the conditions of Ares being able to take what he wants if they lose.
(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)
Tags/Warnings
Biting, Blood, Bloodplay, Combat, Creampie, Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader Insert, Sadism, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex, Violent Sex
Summary
Reader - priestess and champion of Athena and fresh off becoming victor of a tournament held in honor of the gods - has an encounter with the most bloodthirsty god of them all: Impressed, Ares offers them a boon should they best him in combat - though if they lose, Ares may take what he sees fit.
Fic Friday
Shieldmaiden (F! Reader/Ares)
The day had been a long and arduous one, filled to bursting with adrenaline and quick-thinking. Oft enough, your days were composed of training or ceremonies, or helping those who sought aid from the temple to Athena you served. But dawn that morning had heralded the start of a tournament lasting till Helios drove the sun beneath the horizon once more. In a way, those who fell quickly were rewarded with a reprieve from the constant bouts, as even though the humiliation of defeat burdened them.
Even on the heels of victory, by the time the battles had concluded, you were tired and sore, marred with minor bruises and a few nicks and scrapes. It was nothing that a good night’s sleep and some poultices wouldn’t solve, though. ‘All worth the honor of winning such a tournament’ you told yourself. Unlike some combatants, you hadn’t killed an opponent, seeking to shed the least blood possible. Your efficiency had no room for excess. But no amount of hard-won praise and self-satisfaction could change that you were looking forward to curling up and resting until the sun rose on a new day.
Traipsing back to the temple in the glowing purple and red twilight, however, a voice caught your attention. “I must say, your performance today was quite impressive.”
To your credit, you didn’t jump or flinch away, becoming stock still and turning slowly toward the source of the voice. “Who’s there? Whom do I have privilege of impressing?” You asked cautiously, unable to strip all the irritation from your tone. You had patience remaining, though you were loath to chat with someone over your victory when you would much rather be in your bed.
Your eyes landed on a tall figure you somehow hadn’t noticed before - a man - stance regal and straight. Something about the posture gave off a sense of nonchalance as well. Clad in armor of ivory and gold, accented with long shards of black and the eerie glaring face of a beast on the chest plate, he radiated an aura of menace, accompanied by a bloodlust so tangible you could almost taste it on your tongue, hot and bitter. Eyes like smoldering coals plucked from a roaring hearth stared at you intently.. Combined with the simper spread over his lips, you couldn’t suppress the chill that raced up your spine.
Something in your gut twisted uncomfortably, and you resisted the urge to put a few more paces between the two of you. Even if it hadn’t been for the myriad weapons crossed over his back, or the impressive armor, the man would have seemed someone to be cautious around, someone you shouldn’t trust. Everything put together set you on high alert instantly, the instinct of fight or flight rising in your chest like a bird taking wing. Something primal shrieked at you that, for once, flight might be the preferred choice.
“You fight rather viciously for one under my dear sister’s wing,” the man mused, his tone light, but formal.
“I asked before - who are you?” you pressed again, not interested in mincing words. You didn’t like how easily he spoke to you or offhandedly disparaged your goddess.
“Oh, no hesitation to be found. Perhaps Athena neglected to impart all of her wisdom to you after all.” you bristled at the insult, taking a deep breath and trying to relieve some of the tension coursing through you. “I am Ares, and I desired to see the prowess of my sister’s little owl before my own eyes.”
‘Little owl?’ the nickname distracted you at first, thinking to the tiny owls often depicted accompanying your Lady, but you shook your head and dismissed the thought. You hadn’t the time to concern yourself with foolish nicknames. “Lord Ares? Well, I have no desire to see you, my Lord,” you said. With the revelation of his identity, you felt even more uneasy. Ares, god of war and death, who was said to bask in the bloodshed and chaos of man. Athena had been certain her followers knew well of her violent half-brother. “I may not have all of my Lady’s knowledge, but I am wise enough to keep my distance from you and the needless death that follows in your wake.”
Your heart pounded in your chest, wary of each word and wondering if he might take offense from your rejection. From the tales told, the Olympians never took well to being ignored or spurned, but to indulge in the company of a god like Ares was no more appealing a choice. The look on Ares’ face remained pleasant, the corners of his lips set in a smug smile, and he let out a quick puff of laughter that would have been pleasant, had it not come from him.
“What a pity. Although I do not believe that choice is yours to make, little owl,” he began, closing some distance between you. You followed his movements intently, concerned he might draw one of the swords from his back and set upon you with every step closer. “Surely you do not think yourself beyond the bidding of one god solely because you serve another?”
Your hands clenched and unclenched nervously at your sides as you considered his words. Ares was right, of course. Being a priestess of Athena did not grant you any protection from other gods - not unless she interfered directly. And that kind of divine intervention was a rarity. You avoided his question and changed the subject, though you doubted he would be redirected so easily. The God of War was no fool.
“What do you really want? I’ve little time for games, my Lord.”
“I wish to see your technique for myself. Show me how that passion and diligence fares against a foe more than mortal,” he elaborated.
The blood in your veins ran cold upon his admission and your heart thudded so hard you wondered if it was audible from where he stood. Battling a god was firmly on the side of things you wished never to do. “If you think I’m dull enough that I would willingly engage the God of War, then you insult me, my Lord,” you said stiffly, trying to suppress your trepidation from worming into your voice and failing.
“What is it I hear beneath your bold tone? I trust one of my dear sister’s bold little priestesses, one of her champions, even, is not afraid of all things?” Ares taunted smoothly. From the way his self-assured smile twitched upward, barely, you knew he was enjoying your reaction.
“Fear and caution are not the same thing,” you denied fiercely.
“True enough, but it is not caution what gives you pause. If it puts you at ease, little owl, I will not take your life.”
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you scrutinized him intensely, finding no sign of whether he was lying or being genuine. All you found in those bloody eyes and stony face was cold calculation and an insatiable lust for violence. “Why should I believe you?” you asked, face twisting suspiciously.
“Because, beloved by my sister or not, if I so desired to kill you, I would have done so the instant you denied my invitation and spoke to me so disrespectfully.” He talked of ending you so casually it made you shudder, and you cursed yourself for it immediately.
It seemed you had little choice but to indulge Ares in whatever game he had in mind. “And if I agree - what is the benefit to me?” Ares had promised he wouldn’t kill you, but you saw no other purpose to fight him. You still weren’t sure he wouldn’t just kill you, despite his promise.
“Is serving one of the gods not benefit enough for you? What a greedy little owl my sister has found.” Again, Ares taunted you. You wondered if he was trying to make you angry enough to divest your caution and sabotage your battle prowess.
“That’s not an answer,” you spat back. God or not, you were tiring of whatever he was doing.
Fortunately, Ares cut to the chase. “Very well, best me and you shall have whatever boon of me you wish.”
“And if I lose?”
“Then, I shall take from you what I decide most fitting.:
“But not my life,” you added, still skeptical.
“You have my word,” Ares insisted. “Besides, would it not be such a waste to douse a promising ember when it could kindled and made to burn all around it?” he added in afterthought and once again the implications of his words unsettled you. “Now, I trust we are done with these tedious negotiations, hm?” he prompted.
Steeling yourself and willing away the stiffness and fear bubbling in your chest, you nodded. Ares had decided what the outcome of the discussion would be before he first spoke. There was nothing more to be said - at least not with words. Eyes trained on the intimidating figure of the God of War, you retrieved the shield and blade slung over your shoulders. You brandished them both, falling into the stance you were trained to use.
Across from you - hardly half a dozen feet off - Ares drew a weapon of his own. The sight of the curved blade incited your fear once more. The black blade was a ghastly thing, wickedly sharp and emanating a thick, billowing red haze the color of viscera. It was unmistakably a weapon befitting a god, and it made something deep inside you want to turn tail and run. But you knew running would be fruitless - all it would earn you was a head-sized loss of weight between your shoulders.
At once, the both of you moved slowly, following a wide circle, two shadowy beasts in the fading dusk searching for weaknesses and flaws. All of your training and wisdom told you to wait, let Ares come to you and make the first move. But you weren’t sure your reactive way of fighting would hold up against someone of his calibre. As Ares had implied, he was no mortal, and you could only imagine the horrible strength and skill behind his blade.
Ares shattered the heavy stillness abruptly, darting forward and making a low arcing swing up toward you. There was no hesitation behind the blow and you had the feeling if you hadn’t stopped it with your blade, his falcata would have carved a clean line into your torso. Ares may have promised not to kill you, but he wasn’t above grievously injuring you. He gave you little time to think on his intentions, however, another strike quickly following when you knocked his sword aside.
You caught that swing as well, on your shield this time, and your arm stung from the force that rang through it. Blow after blow rained down on you, forcing you on the defensive almost constantly, and even then, many near misses made you tense and wide-eyed. Eventually, you found some rhythm to his assault, and Ares even paused, granting you a scant few seconds to breathe and think. Still, you needed to analyze what you learned quickly - your enduring method of fighting wouldn’t suit well against his relentless onslaught. You had fought aggressive attackers in the past, but their strength and ferocity paled compared to Ares.
Eyes flashing to and fro, following the tuck and arc of his weapon, at the same time searching for openings, you readied to strike. You would need to be swift, perfect in your timing, and hold back nothing if you wanted any hope of breaching his flurry of blows. You took your chance when his fuming blade glanced off your shield at just the right angle to slide away, instead of adding more to the numbness in your shield arm. Dipping down, you swept your own blade under his arm and up. The metal scraped past one of his pauldrons and up, and your eyes shot wider when the tip of the blade reached out towards Ares’ face.
A swift kick pushed you back, leaving you winded, and you looked back up quickly. Ares was standing in place, a small distance away, but close enough to observe small details. His blade upheld in one hand, smoking menacingly, he lifted his free hand to his cheek, brushing away the slick of blood oozing from a diagonal cut across his cheek.Your heart fell at the sight of how little damage you had done. After all that time, you had given him what was barely more than what a mortal mine might suffer from a shaving accident. It was an ill omen when you were so used to your blade striking true and dispatching opponents in only a few strokes.
“Oh, what a splendid surprise.” Your blood may as well have turned to ice. Not at Ares’ words, but his tone.
Beneath the refined and formal speech, something almost excited could be heard. You had the sudden dreadful feeling that indulging the God of War’s little game had been a terrible mistake - even if there was no other choice. Excitement was a chilling thing to hear from a being who adored violence and death. You had expected anger, perhaps, or bitterness that a mortal had drawn blood against him. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been a shock he liked to bleed as much as he liked to bleed others.
“Perhaps I underestimated you, little owl. Such skill seems wasted protecting others, do you not think so?” Ares asked, the hint of excitement vanished.
An indignation bubbled up beneath your dread, understanding Ares had meant your talents better suited to bloody slaughter and resenting that notion. You bristled, snapping back at him. “If I agreed, I would have served from the start, wouldn’t I?”
Ares ignored your response, as if he hadn’t heard. “I have seen more than enough, little owl. Our duel shall come to an end now,” he declared confidently. Again resentment and terror warred with one another within you.
When Ares bolted forward again, you barely thrust out your sword in time and turned his strike aside. The eerie cloud emanating from the blade seemed to have increased, tendrils of it whipping about, framing Ares ominously and obscuring your vision here and there. He didn’t stop at a single blow, striking out again and again as before, but with much more strength behind the attacks. The thought that your weapon and shield or arms might shatter from the force if things kept up flitted through your mind, distracting you for the barest moment.
Ares’ blade flashed forward, and your shield was thrust away, spinning through the air before crashing down and clattering to the ground. In a lightning quick motion, before you could bring your blade in to force his falcata away, the edge was leveled to your throat. You fell deathly still, the icy blade faintly touching your skin. One false move or a twitch of Ares’ wrist and all would be done.
The war god moved closer, grabbing your sword hand cruelly and twisting your blade from your fist. The hand that had disarmed you snapped to your head, grabbing a fistful of hair at the root and making you hiss. He drew your head back and the painful pinch of his blade scarcely cutting your skin made your pulse quicken. A warm trickle crept down your skin. Held between Ares’ hand and his blade, you dared not even breathe too deeply, so close were you to both.
Burning crimson watched you keenly, blazing with triumph and thet still unquenchable lust for blood. The blood you seeping from the shallow cut on your throat encouraged that bloodlust to greater heights rather than sate it. The thought made the space between you and the god feel heavy, airless.
“You fought magnificently, little owl. A far greater challenge even than I had foreseen,” Ares praised, not bothering to draw his weapon back. The tension hanging in the air, in fact, seemed thoroughly amusing to him, alluring even. You gathered all the resolve you possessed, fighting to glare defiantly at him. There was no room to show weakness. “How lovely that look suits you. Fearful, yet masked in defiance, even in the very face of death,” he drawled. You wondered if the god enjoyed his own voice as much as he enjoyed bloodshedl. “Do you believe me a liar?” Ares asked coolly after a moment of unsettling silence.
“I-” you opened your mouth intending to disagree, to ensure him you believed him - even if you didn’t trust him in the slightest -, but something stopped you. “Yes.” As the word escaped, you cursed yourself.
To your surprise, Ares’ proud smile grew. “Such an unwise thing to say,” he mused, “Are you trying to provoke me, now, little owl?” he asked nonchalantly, applying the scantest amount more pressure to his haze billowing blade. You winced, but quickly corrected your expression until your focus was on Ares once more. “No matter, our duel is over. Now comes time to take what I deem ample compensation for my victory.” At last, Ares drew back and took his falcata with him, and you could breathe again.
The start of a cold sweat broke out on your skin, and you felt clammy, except for the hot, sticky trickle drying on your neck. You swallowed thickly, willing your tongue to obey you, and spoke again after a moment of recovery. “So, what do you want? Out with it.” you pressed, perhaps too demandingly for one whom had been in your previous position. Yet with the blade no longer threatening to carve your throat open, you couldn’t help the annoyance and unease that crept into you.
“Tread carefully, little owl. I spared you before,” Ares reminded you casually, though the sharp warning edge suffused his words. He would take your insolence only so far. “Continue to disrespect me and I shall take your words as invitation to grant you a most painful end.” He paused, slipping his dark blade back where it belonged, before turning to you. “As the spoils of my victory, this ought to suffice.”
In an instant, so quick you had no time to wonder what had come over him, Ares was upon you again. His hand, having previously disengaged when he took his weapon away, returned, entangling itself in your hair again and forcing you to remain still. Before you knew it, Ares stepped uncomfortably close, bowing his head and slashing his lips across yours in a kiss that was neither delicate nor considerate. It was a kiss fueled by strength, full of teeth and heat that left you in a stupor.
Ares didn’t bother with the tedious task of coaxing your lips open with his tongue, choosing to bite down viciously, and blood oozed out to meet him. It slicked his teeth and tongue and your mouth fell open in a gasp of pain, and Ares thrust his tongue into your mouth. It swept along your teeth for a moment, before wrapping around your own and fighting it into submission. A heady metallic taste washed over you as you futilely tried to win the war of flesh. Blood. Your blood. Mixed with the coppery flavor was something more subtle, spicy and earthy at once.
When Ares relented and pulled away, you strove for breath, the taste of him and your blood lingering in your mouth. But he had only begun, giving you little time to recover. You had long enough to question why you had kissed him back - or had you been trying to fight him off? - before he jerked your head back and inclined his faced further. His lips, hot and the barest bit sticky, met the curve of your throat. He swept down your skin, leaving angry bite marks and blotches in his wake, until he was nestled against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, unprotected by armor and bared by your tunic.
He bit down again. Harder than before, and his teeth sank into you, another rush of blood welling up.You couldn’t control the pained cry that burst from your lips. You were used to injuries from training or battle, yet hardly in such sensitive places, and almost never from someone’s teeth. It burned when Ares lapped greedily at the wound and you hissed. His free hand had curled behind you at some time you hadn’t noticed, pressing you forward, the unyielding planes of his chest plate and pauldrons digging into you uncomfortable.
A new sensation was blossoming beneath the pain, one that should have been utterly foreign and unthinkable, given the brutality Ares was treating you with. Maybe it was the burning, hungry expression in Ares' eyes as he looked up from your skin, lips tinged red. Or maybe it was the crushing embrace he held you trapped in. Or maybe the way he held you utterly compliant and vulnerable in his grasp. Or maybe it was all of those things combined that made heat fill you from your core and pool between your legs. A dangerous, confused lust was rising - one it would have been wiser to reject.
“Such splendid sounds, little owl,” Ares said, his voice lower, a wild delight tinging it. “I desire to hear more. Do not disappoint me.”
With a rough push, your feet left the ground, and you tumbled backward away from Ares’ grip, too startled and dazed from the confounding feeling brewing in your belly and the painful throbbing in your lip and shoulder to catch yourself in time. You grimaced when you met the ground, making to prop yourself up. But Ares followed you, shoving you down completely and pinning you there. Again, his armor prodded uncomfortably at you. Past the pleated leather folds attached to the armor torso, something still distinctly hard, but much warmer prodded at you as well.
When large hands groped at your tunic - somehow both callous and perfect - some degree of sense insisted you stop him. But others argued with it. They insisted there was no point, this was the spoils Ares chose to claim. You wouldn’t be able to stop him if you tried. One devilish voice even craved more. Your internal debate crashed to a halt when Ares jerked your tunic down, the faint sound of fabric ripping lost to you. His lips fell upon your skin again where the fabric fell away, biting and sucking like he was trying to devour you. Many of them stung, not all as harsh as the bite to your shoulder, but several more drawing blood or leaving the areas soon to bruise, painting your skin in garish colors.
More pained sounds left your lips, gasps and whimpers and groans, though mixing more steadily into them were noises that belied some twisted pleasure. A hiss that became a moan. A gasp that turned into something breathy and thick. Something was stirring more and more hotly within you, transforming pain into a muted pleasure and adding fuel to the embers smoldering between your legs and in your belly.
Ares’ hands were as greedy as his lips, groping and kneading unmarred skin, roughly grabbing at your chest, pinching your nipples and making you cry out pitifully. Before long, he had covered your torso, shoulders, and neck in darkening bruises and blood, teeth marks and scrapes. Pulling away until he was looming over you like an ominous shadow, you could still make out the satisfied look languidly spread across his lips. His eyes seemed even more fiery, near crazed, as if he were high on your blood and pain.
“Such a careful, focused beast in the heat of battle. Now look at you, little owl, stained and trembling,” he purred, and his tongue trailed over his lips, cleaning the crimson staining them. “How beautiful a sight. The color suits you well.” He grabbed at your tunic some more, gathering the bottom around your waist, meeting the neckline he had pushed down. “As fragile and easy to see through as glass. Ought I shatter you like it, then?” Ares asked, greedily taking in the even larger expanse of flesh revealed to him. You wondered if he meant to litter the rest of you in similar marks.
Your lips parted, and you didn’t speak for a second, waiting for the mental gears to turn. Your only choice was the illusion of it, so you may as well as pretend your answer meant something. “Break me as you please, Lord Ares,” you told him, surprised to hear how your voice sounded. Strain and breathy, and the realization strengthened the heat and wetness at your center you couldn’t deny, likely plain to Ares’ eyes with your tunic no longer guarding it.
“How bold a choice of words, little owl.” Ares sounded pleased, possibly having expected you to retort defiantly, or have no words at all. Yet you had indulged his words instead. He trailed a thick finger gingerly over your throat, tracing over your racing pulse. “It would thrill me so to watch the life bleed from you.” You believed him completely. There was no denying in different circumstances Ares would revel in your death. “Alas, I shall have to make do sheathing a different blade within your supple flesh.”
A hint of excited impatience shone through as Ares sat back on his knees, leaving you to lie waiting in the dirt for what he would do next. With an iron grip, he grabbed your thighs, lifting them both off the ground and splaying them over his pauldrons, on either side of the crossed blades on his back. The cold touch of his armor on your overheated, abused skin made you shudder, and you watched as he lifted the lappets of the armor.
Your eyes lingered on what had thrust against you from behind layers of leather before, and you swallowed nervously. Ares was endowed impressively and in the embrace of a gentle lover that might promise a minor discomfort, but pleasure overall. Ares had shown no intention to treat you gently though - the ache and throb from the aftermath of his attention reinforced that - and you were under no illusion he was going to change that.
The new hesitation must have shown in your expression, a dangerous thrill creeping onto Ares’ own face as he brought the head of his cock to your folds. You thanked the stars that his brutal attentions had somehow elicited a perverse hunger from you, soaking your core. Though you imagined he would have fucked you raw whether or not you were wet. In fact, he might have enjoyed it more that way. Fortunately, his dick slipped slickly between your lips, gathering some of your wetness and pushing against your slit.
Ares didn’t take his time entering you, nor savor the moment, bucking his hips forward and splitting your cunt wide. You arched your back stiffly and hissed, both at the awful burn from the way his cock stretched you and the surprising satisfaction from the overwhelming fullness. You drew deep breaths, trying to adjust to the thick intrusion, fighting the pathetic whines that threatened to spill out.
Ares didn’t give you time to adjust to his size, rutting harshly against you, calloused hands digging roughly into your thighs. He leaned forward, bending you nearly in half, far enough a tendril of his silvery white hair brushed against your stomach, making your skin jump. The stretch ached to be sure - it would have even if Ares had been more thoughtful - but caught up in whatever perverse mood electrified the moment, there was pleasure bleeding into the pain.
Pleasure from the way he filled you so completely, creating a delicious friction that made your gut heat and tense. Pleasure from the rough slant of his hips against yours and his balls slapping your ass. Pleasure from the renewed vigor and sting of his lips and teeth attacking your neglected skin once more. It was agonizing and mindnumbing and enjoyable in a way you couldn’t have had any hope of explaining, at least not in a right sense of mind.
Each hard rock of his hips and searing puff of breath against your skin wore away at what little pride you retained, if you could claim to have any scrap left, looking such a mess. You might regret the memory later, but in the heat of the moment, there was no time for regrets or second thoughts. There was only room to try and enjoy what Ares had claimed as his reward.
As your dignity shattered and disintegrated like dust, the heat of your body and between your thighs grew, until you cried out into the air, the pleasure finally rising high enough to meet the pain and break loose from your throat between whines and winces. One loud cry that twisted and broke from another especially vicious bite must have gotten to Ares, eliciting an answering sound that was deep and primal.
Continuing to pound into your cunt, Ares looked up from his savagery of your skin, eyes glittering with amsement and lust of multiple kinds. His hot breath rolled over your bruised chest and his silky words rumbled over you. “You ought to thank me for my mercy,” he growled, and amidst the pain and pleasure you laughed to yourself. Mercy for a war god amounted simply to not killing you it seemed, even if the alternative was marking your body viciously and claiming it for himself. “Go on, then, little owl,” he compelled you, puncutating his words with a harder buck of his hips that left made you shout.
You opened your mouth, at first only pants and huffs and whimpers broke away. You gathered the words on your tongue he demanded of you. “Th-thank...aah...thank you, Lord Ares!” you cried out, surprisingly yourself. “Thank you f-for sparing me.”
He seemed satisfied with you pitiful answer, shaky and broken as it was, though he remained close to your skin. His pace grew stronger, faster, and he drew his tongue over some of the more bloody marks he’d left behind, coating his tongue again in your essence. His eyes swept hotly over his handiwork, bordering on frenzied. “Is it not such a wondrous feeling, to break bleed so, little owl?”
The smooth, husky tone of his voice, though it spoke such sick words - words you would have rejected in another setting - drove your own fervor higher, the molten spring of tension in your abdomen coming to the edge of its breaking point. You responded without hesitation, mind bent only on the promised releasen. “Yes, yes, my Lord!”
No more words fell between the two of you then, only the primal symphony of moans, grunts, groans, and gasps, enough to be heard by any soul unfortunate enough to be passing nearby. You hadn’t thought Ares’ thrusts could become any crueler, but as he chased and neared his own release, they did, until each thrust stung, hurting almost more than they pleased. His hands still clenched around your thighs and you could only imagine the intensity of the bruises that would be left behind - perhaps even worse than the many peppering your neck and chest and torso.
Despite the pain, your cunt squeezed around him, fluttering erratically as you danced on that edge so, so close. Until at last, it burst. But not before Ares finished with a sound so dark and heavy and alluring it could be called inhuman. Your walls embraced him even tighter as his cum filled you to overflowing, hot and wet, and you screamed and cried into the darkness of evening that had taken over.
When all was still at last, youtruly began to feel the extent of the damage Ares had done. He didn’t remain atop you much longer, not seeming to need to catch his breath, and when he pulled out of you, you shuddered, feeling sore and empty. Already tired before Ares had sought you out, and even more so after your combat, you were completely and utterly exhausted. Lying there, each pound of your heart making the bites and bruises pound along with it, you wondered if passing out in the dirt was a viable option.
Ares didn’t concern himself with your thoughts, however, or whatever it was you intended to do now that he was finished with you - for now at least. He just looked down at you, tucking himself back beneath the lappets of his armor and looking no worse for the wear. “Farewell, little owl. Do take care. And consider what I have said,” he began. “Your talents ought be used for something far more satisfying.”
You didn’t answer, letting your eyelids slide closed for a minute. When you opened them again, you were alone and the air was still and silent. You begrudgingly sat up, preparing to tackle the ordeal of standing and making the rest of your way home and to your bed. You wondered how you were going to explain your state to your fellows the following day.
#writing#fanfic#areas#ao3#archive of our own#fic friday#update#weekly#request#anon request#tw: blood#tw: dubious consent
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