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inkedtae · 3 years

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a lover’s howl ⇾ kth. [M]

⟶ inspired by Howl’s Moving Castle and part of The Ghibli Series

⌁ pairing; howl!taehyung x reader (f.)

⌁ genre/rating; studio ghibli au, howl’s moving castle au, smut, a dash of fluff, a bit of angst, 18+

⌁ summary; an unforsaken spell blesses you with his presence again

⌁ word count; 4.1k

⌁ warnings; howl!taehyung, blonde!taehyung, bigdicc!taehyung, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, oral (f. receiving), fingering, body worshipping, basically a moving amount of filth~

⚘ happy birthday juno ♡ (@onherwings)~

⚘ a huge thanks to my beta readers, @kkulmoon, @nottodayjjk and @uhgood-dooghu, for taking the time to read this over and fix it up for me. it means a lot and i don’t think i will ever be able to thank you enough. also a special thanks @yeoldontknow for letting me talk at her, giving me ideas and always supporting me. I owe this fic being finished on time to you.

The rumble of the train trembles the walls of your workshop. Black fumes cloud the moonlight. Your candles flicker atop your desk, threatening to diminish and leave you sewing in the dark. Weaving feathers in and out of a black hat, you’re too preoccupied with thoughts of him to be fazed by the sound. He writes often, enclosing a black feather with every letter, but doesn’t visit as much. You’re not sure what of this “important business” is so dangerous that you can’t come along as well. You have survived much worse, witnessed his near death and helped him rebuild his castle afterall. And though you told yourself countless times that there’s no good dwelling on the past, you can’t seem to stop wondering what exactly changed his mind.

A prick of your thumb stings you out of your thoughts. In a jolt, you drop the needle and hat to shoot out of your seat with a hiss. You lick the wound before it bleeds then press your fingertip upon it. You hope the pressure subsides the wound long enough for you to fetch a bandage from the first aid kit.

Now, where did Taehyung say it was? Something about a library... or was it a living room? You make your way up to the attic, hoping he did in fact mention the library. All you can really remember from that conversation was how handsome he looked in that pink coat you stitched up for him. It just frames his broad shoulder so well only to narrow around his thin waist. And then there was that knowing look in his eyes that told you he knew just how much you weren’t listening at all.

“Baby,” he had whispered, cupping your chin. “Are you listening?” And once you had found the mental capacity to resist the urge to kiss him and slowly nod, he had smirked and repeated, “The kit is in-”

The library flickers to life when you enter. Dust settles upon every inch and you begin to wonder why he had forbade you from entering before as you scan the shelves for the kit. Leather bound books and tightly rolled scrolls reside on every surface. Trinkets of his journey clutter around as well. You had thought you talked to him about the importance of organization, but it seems that he prefers this mess best.

Your attention settles on the desk, sitting in front of a large window. Presuming it’s probably in one of the desk drawers, you make your way over with the intention of rifling through them and nothing more. You’ve learned from past experience that it’s best to never tinker with his things. However, once you stand before it, a red, leather bound book catches your eye. The imprinted title is written in an unreadable script and seems to be floating off the cover. How could that dance off the surface like that? Against your better judgement, curiosity hovers your fingers over the font.

Slamming open, the book flips and flicks through various pages only to suddenly stop. Rose coloured font apperates into view in that unreadable script again. You furrow your brows, attempting to read it anyways, until the strokes of ink shift around the pages. They rearrange themselves into a script you can decipher.

A Lover’s Howl.

Yearning of heart and

Tethers of soul.

I wish to end my misery

And the distance apart

Together unruly and-

The tremors of the train erupt every wall of the attic, pulling you out of your thoughts. Startled, you glance out the window to find that it is not the train at all you owe this rukkus to, but the upset clouds. Flashes of lightning burn the sky alight as rain beats down the busy street.

You turn back to the desk and shut the book. That’s enough snooping for a night. You still have that first aid kit to find. Rummage through the drawers, you finally find a little tin of bandages under a box of rose and emerald ink pots. Teeth between the thin paper, you rip open the little bandage and wrap it around your thumb. However, it seems like once one wound is taken care of, another flames.

Aching, your heart sits heavy in your chest. You take a deep breath, hands too shaky to return the kit back beneath the ink pots. The action seems to push the numb pain to your gut. A little whimper escapes you. You lean on the edge of the desk, inhaling sharply. You’re still breathing, you try to remind yourself. And that should be a comforting fact if your pussy didn’t begin aching as well. With a shaky gasp, you press your thighs together and wonder why the thought of being bent over this very desk seems to be unfathomably appealing right now.

Your fingers hover over the pearl buttons of your dress; it suddenly seems awfully tight in this hot room. Wait- when did the room get so ho- “Agh,” you whine as another pang of pain makes you needier.

The newfound heat suffocates skin, hands moving fast to push that blue dress off your shoulders. It doesn’t hit the ground before you start to discard your bra and panties as well. Still, your body burns with a desire to be overtaken. It’s as if you’ve been edged all day, left half finished and ready to finally unravel. Desperate to feel just that, you slide a hand down to your aching pussy. It clenches emptily, yearning for Taehyung's huge cock. God, it’s been too long since he last stretched you out. Nothing can ever quite compare to his size, your fingers and vibrator a weak excuse for anything besides clitoral pleasure.

Rubbing at your clit, you try to soothe the craving for him now. However, the pain only seems to intensify. It’s as if your body knows it’s not your own hand you crave, but Taehyung’s. And where is he now to graze your folds between his fingers and tease with little praises? You can just see him peeking up from between your legs, tongue poking out of his lips and breath fanning over your heat. And you’d push yourself up into him. So, he’d smirk and chuckle, and tell you to be patient or he won’t do anything at all. You can even hear him now, taunting at your desperate, half-naked state in the very section of the house he told you to never enter.

“What did I say about looking through my things?”

Hand cupping your heat, your attention snaps to the door. Taehyung leans against the doorframe, the candlelight sculpting his features sharply. His name leaves you in a whisper as you begin to wonder how desperate you are to have resorted to hallucinations? Maybe you should really call him if your mind’s gone this far. But, as you attempt to move around the desk, another shot of pain holds you back. You gasp a quiet cry and harshly rub circles around your clit.

Concern colours Taehyung’s features. “Sweetheart,” he calls, rushing over to you. You’re about to pride your mind on such a vivid and accurate imagination when you feel his large hands settle on your arms. Soft and cold, he holds you tight and guides your hunched over frame onto the desk. Shrugging his coat off, he drapes it over your shoulders and asks, “What’ve you done to yourself?”

“You’re here?”

“I’m here,” he smiles.

A breathless chuckle bubbles out of you as your hands wrap around his neck. Your arousal slicked hands stain his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind, pulling you into a tighter hug. “You shouldn’t have come in here,” he mutters between peppering little kisses in the crook of your neck.

His vanilla cedar scent coddles your heart and aches your bones. You whimper into his shoulder at how quickly the pain intensifies from a single whiff. Taehyung pulls half an inch away, concerned and confused. With his forehead resting against yours, he licks his lips and you can’t think of a better use for that tongue if not to lick at your pussy. The pain shoots at you again just as your thoughts become interesting. You swallow your whimpers as he brushes your hair out of your face.

His gaze falls to your bare chest before lingering around your pussy. Suddenly aware of your nakedness, you shyly press your thighs together. Every inch of you just wants to beg him for his cock already, no matter if you're bent on his desk or pressed against the window. You just need him on you, in you, touching every part of you.

The courage to ask for what you want finally presents itself when he shifts his gaze to something behind you. You sneak a glance over your shoulder to find that open book. A little sigh escapes him and he returns his attention to you with a little smirk. “You missed me this much,” he teases, caressing your cheek, “that you just had to cast a mating spell, hmm?”

Is that what that was? You weren’t even sure you could read it before it rearranged. You’re about to apologize when the pain cinches your words in your throat. Doubling over, you rest your head against his shoulder and whine, “Ah, Tae!”

He wraps his arms around you, further engulfing you in his scent and you don’t think you can take much more of this. Whatever this mating spell is, you’re sure it’s not supposed to be tearing you apart. Clutching on the collar of his shirt, you mumble, “I need you, Tae. I need your mouth and fingers and- I just need you so bad.”

You wish you can say you hate the way his eyes glisten with power. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he knew exactly how you were feeling and was just waiting for you to say it. He’s told you before that the sight of you so needy always awakes something dark within him. He loves to watch you whine and quiver.

His hold on your face tightens as his fingers dig into your skin. You swallow thickly, another whine escaping from the mere thought of those fingers deep in you. He licks his lips before asking, “What do you need me to do so bad, sweetheart?”

He trails his fingers down your neck, past your collarbone and the valley of your breasts; waiting, watching. When all you can muster is his name in a little mewl, he whispers, peppermint breath fanning over your face, “Do you want to start on your knees?”

“Anything,” you gasp, tugging on his shirt. You just need him close, need him now. “We can do it anyway you want, just please fuck me already.”

Surprise alights his eyes for a moment. Never have you spoken this crassly, without his cock already deep in you that is. He chuckles, on the verge of teasing you about it when another pained whimper escapes you. Taehyung settles his large hands on your thighs. Leaning in, he brushes his nose against yours then places a soft kiss upon the corner of your lips. “I know it hurts, sweetheart, but I can’t do much if you don’t tell me exactly what you want.”

You pause for a moment, wondering how much clearer you could be. Usually, a declaration to be riled is enough to set him off. You’re never the one guiding him as he always insists on guiding you. He says it's because he loves how obedient you suddenly become when his dick is involved. And though you have tried to fight him on it in the past, there’s not much you can deny now. So, you bite back a whine until you have enough strength to order just above a whisper, “I need your mouth, Tae. You’re fingers too. Honestly, anything will do just as long as you're tasting me.”

He bites back a chuckle as he lowers himself to his knees. Spreading your legs, he urges you to lean back a bit. The gesture pushes a variety of books and pens to the floor. Neither of you can be too bothered, however, with his face inches away from your pussy.

Holding your gaze, Taehyung dives in. You expect him to lick a long strip up your pussy to start, as he always does, only to have him suction his lips around your clit. Either way, you’re sure the pain withers away. A relieved gasp echoes in the small room as you throw your head back. You can barely even feel the previous ache when he releases your clit to lap up your wetness. All you can focus on is how you missed his warm tongue.

“Oh fuck, just like that,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut. Your hips roll up to meet his tongue, body craving more of him.

“Keep talking to me, baby,” he mutters around a mouthful of pussy. “How fast do you want it?”

You run a hand through his hair and hold on tight. “Fast!” Taehyung groans against you, making your heart flutter enough for you to forget what more you wanted to say. Until a small ache pokes at your gut again. With a whine, you reply, “I need your fingers. I need you to shove them in me and lick me and make me cum. Fuck, Tae, just please make me cum.”

Taehyung circles two fingers around your tight, little hole, muttering, “About time you remembered your manners.”

Not much strength lives in you to tell him that you’ll remember your manners when he finally lets you come along with him to whatever “important business” that’s taken him this long. And even if you could speak, all you can really think about is how you missed his fucking fingers. So long and slender, they slide into you so far and curl just right.The pain dissipates and you throw your head back with a loud moan. You’re not sure what this spell was, but you’re thankful for it if it means bringing Taehyung back home.

You attempt to ride his face again only to have him remove his lips. He smirks up at you, amused gaze peeking through his blonde bangs. His fingers quicken and bash just where you need them.

“Taehyung,” you sigh. Voice breathless, strained with the return of that painful, greedy desire to unravel, you whine, “I need your mouth.”

He chuckles. You shudder. Has he been gone so long that you’ve genuinely forgotten just how much you adored that laugh? You’ve never been able to process the duality of it, the cheerful tone sounding so deep and dark.

“And what do you want me to do about that?”

Oh, right. The spell. It only seems to let him follow your orders. You make a mental note to tease him about it later, the gnawing ache of your gut begging to be eased. Still, under your breath, you mumble, “Must I hold your hand through this?”

Taehyung clenches his jaw. His eyes blink cold, hard and darken into vexation. If he could, he’d smack your pussy, bend you over for a spanking only to edge you thrice before finally letting you cum. At least, that’s what he did the last time you talked back. Instead, he resorts to glares and little reminders to “behave” since “the spell will break before the night is over.”

You shiver with every moan as you sit up. A few more scrolls roll to the ground from the shift of your position, but you pay them no mind. As the thunder roars beyond the little library, you cup Taehyung’s wet smeared chin and guide him back onto his feet.

“All I can ever think about,” you start, attempting to speak through your moans, “is all the time lost not getting fucked in that moving castle.”

“It’s d-”

“Dangerous,” you finish. “More dangerous than a mating spell? Than this stupid libr- fuck, I think I’m close.” You fall forward to rest your head against his shoulders. Taehyung scoffs and you don’t need to glance at his handsome face to know he’s smirking. You can hear it.

Hand shooting to his wrist, you stop his fingers mid-thrust. The spell’s pain lingers around your pussy, tightening your walls around him. It threatens its return as your orgasm slowly disappears. He whispers your name, but you only meet his gaze when you’ve bitten every needy whine back long enough to say, “I just want you to fuck me like you want me.”

“What makes you think I don’t want you?”

A little whine slips past your lips. Taehyung’s expression softens and he shifts in place, likely feeling helpless when you don’t allow him to ease the ache. “You left, Tae,” you sigh. “You left me here. I want you to fuck me like you never did. I want you to replace your fingers with your cock and touch me like you love me.”

Taehyung pauses. “You think I don’t love you?”

Though the answer is on the tip of your tongue, you know better than to tell him it now. Taehyung is no fun to fuck when he’s genuinealy upset. And if you are going to be rid of this unforsaken curse, you know that you’ll need to keep the rest of your thoughts to yourself. So you let go of his wrist and the spell compels his actions once more.

Taehyung removes his fingers then rids himself of his clothes. You can’t seem to keep your hands from wandering over his chest and clutching onto his shoulders. He smiles at you and, though it’s small, that smile of his makes you wonder if perhaps you’ve ruined the entire mood and now he’ll only fuck you because he wants simply to help.

Then he seizes your hips. You’re pulled forward until the length of his cock presses between your folds. He strokes his nose along your cheek, wet lips whispering, “I think the real issue is how you have trouble following orders.” Rolling his hips against yours, Taehyung groans into the crook of your neck. “It looks like I have to show you how it’s done.”

You lose your fingers in his hair, clutching onto his bicep with your other hand. You missed how much he loved to tease. Lips biting into your collarbone, Taehyung reaches a hand between your bodies to align himself. A gentle push in and you’re exchanging praises. He’s definitely been gone too long if you’ve forgotten just how big he is. His mere tip stretches you enough to lose all words, incoherent affirmations taking their place instead. Eyes rolling back, you thrust up to try meeting his hips halfway, but Taehyung grounds you in place.

A specific speed never left your lips and you just now realized that fast is in fact Taehyung’s default setting when it comes to fucking you into submission. All the pain you thought was returning feels as though it never arrived at all. You’re about to tell him to thrust harder when he clutches onto your neck.

He stares into your desperate eyes, his own looking needier than usual - a fact he has never enjoyed admitting. “Do you know how many times I almost used this fucking spell?” he hisses as his thrusts become harsher. “Every night, I stare at that fucking page and think about how pretty you’d look when you’re full of my cock.” He growls a curse under his breath. The hand around your neck tightens just to let go. As it trails down your body to cup one of your bouncing breasts, he groans, “You look even more beautiful when you’re desperate for it. Did you know that?”

You let out a shaky moan. Hands sweaty, you try to maintain your grip on his shoulders as he plays with your body like a passtime. He thumbs your nipple, gazing down at how you arch your back and push yourself further against him. Breathless from the sheer sight, he picks up his pace. The desk scratches at the floor with every thrust. Your moans drown its sharp creaks as Taehyung buries his face between your breasts. Licking and biting, he feasts on you like he never left, like he does this every night and still can’t believe he has you.

Cradling his head closer, you feel that once painful ache in your gut tighten, twist and slowly begin to beg for a chance to release. And you know he can feel you inching closer as well, little praises pouring out of him between his appreciation of your chest.

“That’s my girl,” he rasps. “Taking my cock so well.”

True, you’re annoyed it took a fucking spell to bring him back, but you’d be lying if his insistence of you being such a good girl didn’t just replace all your anger with affection. “Taehyung!” you cry.

You’re about to ask for permission when you recall the fickle detail that you are the one calling the shots this time. Even still, you try to subside your urge to cum long enough to ask, “I-it’s okay to cum, right?”

Taehyung laughs against your skin. He trails quick kisses back up to your lips, only to mutter moments later, much to your constant whining, “You don’t need to ask this time, sweetheart.”

Like being doused with cold water, you allow yourself to come undone. Fingers digging into his skin, eyes rolling back, you scream out his name over and over again with the rhythm of his hips. Every new thrust adds to the quaking of your body. It breaks in your voice as you cry out for him.

“Does that feel better?” he teases, voice husky and strained. If that isn’t enough indication that he’s close, the little twitch of his cock gives it away. “Is my dick enough or do you want me to cum too?”

Nails imprinting into his skin, you try to meet his gaze. “If you don’t cum in me right now,” you start, breathless and desperate, “I swear I’ll cry.”

Taehyung nudges his nose against yours before pressing his lips to yours. He lets you swallow all his moans as he pulls you close by your ass and holds you tight. Then, he bites your lip and fills you until you’re stuffed with more than just his giant cock.

A few more rushed kisses and sloppy thrusts are offered before Taehyung ceases all movement. He rests his head on your shoulder, fingers still sunk into the curves of your ass. Sweaty, heaving exhaustion overwhelms your senses. Pussy pulsing, you find that the longer Taehyung remains in you, the more twinges of that pain return. You know you should tell him that, only you’re worried that he’d go the moment he pulls out. He has served the purpose of the spell after all.

Taehyung stands straighter now that his breath has returned to him. He shifts his hands from your ass to your hips and gently pulls out. A hiss escapes him. You feel empty all over again.

Crossing your legs, you softly push his hands off your hips. It might just be best to make this easier on both of you, you wonder, and give him a chance to go. Maybe that way it won’t feel as though he’s abandoning you.

“I guess you have to get back then,” you say as you hop off the desk.

You both know he can sense your discomfort. “I can stay for a little while.”

Grabbing your dress off the ground, you ignore the emotion in his words. “Lucky me,” you mutter, turning back to find him inches away.

Eyes locked, Taehyung maintains his sincerity. He tentatively wraps his arms around your waist and, when you don’t interject, presses you against his chest. “I’m- I-” he stutters for a moment before the words come together once more. “I thought leaving alone would be the safest. I didn’t think it would take this long.”

You shake your head. He’s missing the point. It shouldn’t take a spell to compel him to return. He shouldn’t have left you alone. “It shouldn’t matter how long it takes. I should always be there.”

Taehyung falls silent. Guilt flashes in his eyes as he reverts them to the floor. Swallowing thickly, he meets your gaze again to mutter, “I just can’t risk losing you again.”

“Then don’t leave me alone,” you whisper.

Taehyung pulls you into a warm hug. A tearful apology is mumbled into your shoulder. You’re not very interested in it though. All you want is him; with or without a lover’s howl.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

#bangtansorciere #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #kim taehyung angst #taehyung ghibli au

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lizzy-williams · 3 years

Text

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

🍎Warnings: dark!peter parker, manipulation, innocent!reader, smut, triggering themes, oral (female receiving)

🍎Masterlist

🍎PART ONE

🍎A/N: Major trigger warning, I don’t condone actions like this, it’s fanfiction.

She was trapped in a spider’s web. Thankfully metaphorically, but it didn’t make the situation any better.

[y/n] was restless the night after the events that took place in her favorite teacher’s classroom. Tossing and turning as she found herself quite lonely in her bedroom.

Was this wrong? Was it worth it? What would someone say if they found out?

These questions floated around her head, hoping that maybe her thoughts would calm and she could at least get a little sleep before classes.

But then her alarm went off, and it set in that she would need to live on coffee and Five Hour Energy to keep her going and make her pay attention to her classes.

The day went by painfully slow. That was until her 6th period class. Mr. Parker’s class. And she purposely showed up when everybody else did, breaking her habit of arriving ten minutes early.

And Peter didn’t fail to notice.

Because little did [y/n] know that he was up all night as well. His thoughts were filled with nothing but her.

He didn’t fail to keep her eyes on him as he stood up in front of a room of rowdy college kids, his eyes training on her loose turtle neck, and pants.

She never wore pants, her usual outfit consisted of a skirt and knee high socks, usually with a matching sweater. He didn’t like the change of wardrobe.

Class continued as usual. But Peter’s thoughts filled with the events of the day before. How beautiful she looked on her knees. How she looked with her makeup spilling down her face, and her nude body perfectly prepped for what he had planned next.

It was then the Peter noticed he was beginning to get hard in his nether regions, and quickly dismissed the students to work and have a study hall, before sinking down at his desk, bright red but thankful that nobody saw.

Nobody accept one person, and she felt shameful for it, almost as red as her manipulator was.

She avoided eye contract with him the entire period, not wanting to catch his attention, and eventually the bell rang, her saving grace, as she rushed out of the room.

[y/n] felt sick. She didn’t want to go. She really didn’t want to go to his room after school, knowing that there was more to come. But as much as she hated it, she thought on it.

He said he wanted the best for her. And this was a learning opportunity with perks. As foreign as it felt, what he did to her felt... good. Not the last part, but the first part.

Nobody had touched her like that, not even her past boyfriends, who were almost just as clueless as she was. But Peter gave her something new. Something that she liked. Not to mention his praise did something to her that she liked. She wanted to hear him call her a good girl just one more time.

She took her sweet time, almost 20 minutes late to see him. She paused right as she got to the door. Was she really doing this? Was she inviting it?

But she needed a good grade on this paper. She really really wanted it.

And maybe, just maybe, a small piece of her wanted Peter.

When she opened the door, Peter immediately looked up, his leg bouncing up and down, a scowl on his face.

“You’re late.”

She looked down in guilt, hoping this didn’t anger him too much.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Parker, I had a family emergency, it was small, but everything is fine now...”

Her voice was barely audible as she spoke. But Peter seemed to be having none of it.

“I can’t have you being late, now can I? I might have to doc a few points from your grade...”

“No!” She started, and this was the loudest she had ever spoken to him, the threat working better than Peter had thought, “I’m sorry... sorry, I just... please, there has to be something I can do.”

“You’ll have to do an exceptionally good job today then. We need to start the next lesson.” Peter’s tone was laced with pretend disappointment, knowing it would seem authentic to his prey.

“Yes sir,” she muttered, setting her bag down and standing in front of him, sinking down to her knees, her hands folded in front of her, her eyes on the floor, preparing for what she thought was a recap of her most recent teachings.

Peter let out an amused laugh, proud that he taught her well. Fast learner, she was.

“Stand up, [y/n],” he put a finger under her chin, making her look up, “we’re going to try something different. It’s new, and I think you’ll like it.”

She began to stand up, grasping onto Peter’s hand as she stood. She was nervous, and she was starting to think twice on her decision to show up, but there was no going back now.

“I need you to sit on your desk, just like we did yesterday, alright?”

She nodded, sitting on the table of the desk before she folded her hands in front of her once again. It was a habit of hers, folding her hands, it gave her something to hold onto. Even if it was just herself.

He stepped closer, before he began to mess with the bottom of her sweater, “Never seen you in something like this before,” he muttered bitterly.

Part of him wanted to rip it off of her, destroying the modest sweater all together. But a shirtless girl walking out of his classroom could cost him his job.

He leaned over, close to her ear, sending goosebumps up her arms, “Strip.”

Peter stood back and watched as each piece of clothing found their way to the floor. She even did the honors of unhooking her bra. And soon her panties were off.

No matter how many times he would see her naked, it always felt like the first time. Amazed and in awe that even just for an evening, it was his.

“Now. What was something we learned yesterday?” He spoke, [y/n] shifted, her thighs now closed.

“Pleasure is key?” She tried, relieved at the gleeful smile that crossed her professor’s lips.

“Look at you,” he came closer, stroking her cheek, “such a fast learner. My brilliant girl,”

Even though the young woman knew what was about to come next, the praise gave her the pride to at least keep going a little while longer. Something to look forward to.

“Yesterday you gave me pleasure. You did a fantastic job. So now, it’s my turn to do it to you. But I’m also going to teach you how to do it yourself.”

Peter let his words sink in, [y/n] doing her best to understand, but no matter how hard she tried, the concept flew over her head.

“I’m going to take your hand, and I’m going to move it. I’m going to show you how to do it. Think of it like homework. Something to do while your away from me,”

Peter gently took her hand, bringing it to his lips before placing a kiss on her wrist.

This was fine, the naive nymphet thought to herself. She foolishly thought this lesson was easy.

But once she felt her hand go down her stomach, worry filled her thoughts once again, Peter’s voice an interruption.

“Have you ever touched yourself, [y/n]?” Peter pried, pausing her hand right at her clit.

She shook her head, no longer knowing how to speak. But secretly, she had tried once. Her friends (as a cruel joke on their pure friend) invested in a vibrator. But she she tried it, the buzzing only made her laugh, not being able to take it seriously. So now it sat in a box in her dorm’s closet, not being touched since then.

“Perfect.” Peter’s dreams were coming true. He knew she was pure. And he was going to show her. Help her. Have her. Even if it was just for a little while.

He positioned her hand, their pointer fingers now laced with each other.

“Start by rubbing right here...,” he instructed, rubbing her clit in soft circles, devouring the sounds of her gasps as she bit her lip.

“Hey, don’t be afraid to make noise. There’s nobody here.” He reassured.

Did he know this as a fact? No. But he would tell her anything to get her to make the sounds he had only daydreamed about.

This was when she let out a weak whimper as he applied a little more pressure. He did this for a few more seconds, Peter not failing to notice her cunt clenching around nothing. He loved her small noises.

But the whine when he took her hand away was music to his ears. It was angelic, heavenly. Everything he wanted.

“Hush,” he shushed her, “this next part you’ll like.”

She hated to admit it, but [y/n] wanted to see what was coming next. Anything to get the warm feeling on her clit again.

“It’ll be uncomfortable at first, but it will feel good after a while. Alright?”

“Mhm.”

Taking her middle and pointer finger, he positioned them. [y/n] looked up with wide eyes. Peter gave her a soft kiss on her forehead before inserting her fingers inside of her.

She whimpered at the sensation, the feeling almost alienated. It was new. It was strange. And it was very uncomfortable.

“Here, I’ll help you,” he lulled, pulling her hand slowly, her fingers slipping out, but he pushed them back in, her cunt swallowing them to the knuckle.

She let out a weak cry, the feeling of being stretched out, even by her own fingers, was scary.

“There you go, princess, just like that,” the professor muttered, continuing to guide his student.

This was a lesson he thought he should have taught her sooner.

The pace was slow and easy, but the feeling was overwhelming for the young girl. Peter then took it a step farther, pressing her palm up against her pearl and adding pressure, making sure her fingers were still moving inside her.

“That’s right. Rub that clit while you fuck your hand, that’s it...,”

Peter’s encouraging words made her melt, Peter then taking his hand off hers. But to his delight, she didn’t stop. She continued, loving the tightening in her core.

Her light moans were making Peter’s cock strain in his pants. Almost to the point of pain. Peter kicked the chair away from the desk, now standing behind her.

[y/n] was too lost in pleasure to register the sound of his belt and the unzipping from his slacks.

And the moment Peter’s cock sprung out, his hand wrapped around it, squeezing gently to relieve the pressure, his free arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her back to his chest.

This gave him perfect view of [y/n]’s finger working her pussy. He started in soft strokes, his eyes trained on her hand and the soft moans she was releasing.

He started going faster, thinking about what he wanted to do most. But that was a lesson for another day. But for now, all he had were her noises. His hand began going even faster, his head now dropping to the crook of her neck, his cheeks flushed.

“That’s right, my perfect girl, you’re doing fucking amazing, keep going, baby,” his words were muffled by the young woman’s skin, but was heard none the less.

Peter already knew that she was close, her signs apparent as she went faster, the coil that was tightening inside her feeling otherworldly.

But right as it she was at the edge, she slowed.

“Mr. Parker, I-I’m scared,” she whimpered, but Peter gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, keep going, your almost done, don’t stop, alright? I promise it’s worth it.”

And just like he knew she would, [y/n] obeyed, resuming the swift speed she had before, moaning at her own sudden change of pace.

Peter was on the edge. He was so close. So fucking close. He had to cum before her. He wanted to take in the sight that he couldn’t imagine if he tried.

And soon enough, he came, his cum dripping down his cock and spurting onto the girl’s back, grunting loudly, cursing at his peak.

His sounds is what set her off, [y/n] letting out a loud moan as she fell off the edge, her legs shaking as she experienced her first orgasm. But right as her hand stopped, Peter reached around with his cum-covered hand and violently rubbed her clit, his harsh movements making her yelp.

She felt the coil inside her tighten again, quicker this time.

“Come on, give me one more, I wanna make you give me one more.” He growled.

And right as she fell off, her vision went white, almost blacking out as her eyes rolled back in her head. Peter held her close as he spasmed and tensed, shaking almost to the point of vibration.

Peter’s mouth dropped open as she released, squirting all over the desk and the floor in front of the classroom. His hand was soaked, and his girl was close to crying.

He refused to stop there, moving away from behind her, picking her up and laying her down at the edge of his own desk, the dazed girl laying back as her bottom half hung over the ledge.

Before she could protest, Peter was already on his knees, her legs over his shoulders, diving into her pussy, licking up everything she gave.

This time it was overstimulating, but when she tried to get away, Peter pulled her right back. Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she tried to form words, her language slurred.

“S-Stop! Off!” Were the only words she could force out, but in response, Peter only licked quicker, inserting his own fingers in her cunt.

His stalky fingers shoved her open as she screamed in pain as he gave her no time to adjust before thrusting at a punishing pace.

“One more, baby, one more for me,” he growled against her folds.

And she did, her mouth opening as she let out a silent scream, forgetting how to breathe as her ears rang. Her thoughts were incoherent, mumbles of words seeping out of her mouth as she did her best to regain sanity.

But it was too much. It was all too much. And that’s all she remembered as darkness claimed her, her body no longer conscious.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

When she regained consciousness, she found herself fully dressed, laying down on her professor’s desk. She struggled to sit up, her mind fuzzy.

Peter stood up from cleaning up her... mess, letting out a breath of relief.

“Fuck, you’re up, lost you for a second,” he rushed over, helping her stand. He reached over to a stray desk, picking up a glass of water along with Advil and a shot of electrolytes.

“Here, this should help you.” He helped her drink and take the pill, watching as she did so.

And of course, there was still one thing that she couldn’t get off her mind. The question that she was dying to ask.

“D-Did I do good?”

#tom holland series #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #dark!peter x reader #professor x student #dark!peter #peter parker smut

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shokobuns · 3 years

Text

“taste”

in which you and sukuna worry about what to eat for dinner.

pairing: stepdad!sukuna ryomen x f!reader

genre: smut, taboo, dark

word count: 1.9k

warnings: dark content, stepcest, fingering, oral (f receiving) during period, drug use (marijuana), blood, bloodplay, idk mans eats her out while she’s on her period, dubcon (if you squint), slight mommy issues, manipulation (kind of), overstimulation, daddy kink, high sex

note: characters are aged up

“What’s got you all grumpy?”

You open your eyes, the first thing you see being the man covered in tattoos standing three feet in front of you wearing an expression of slight concern on his face. His hands are in his hoodie pockets, sweatpants hanging dangerously from his hips. You resist the urge to look lower, limiting your vision to just his head as you look up at him from the couch.

“Just that time of the month. Plus, mom’s working again, so I gotta cook.”

“I could cook, too, you know,” he offers, plopping himself down next to you on the couch, “You want soup? Some noodles?”

“Yeah, sure, I’m not really hungry right now, though,” you reply, getting up and walking towards your room, “I’ll see you later.”

“Where’re you goin’?” he asks, making himself comfortable in your previous spot.

“My room.”

By the time you reply, your hand is already on the doorknob and you’re quickly making your way to your bed, hiding yourself under the covers. It doesn’t matter if anything happened or not because that uneasy warmth in your lower tummy started to bloom again and it’s embarrassing. It’s shameful, it’s not right, but most of all, it’s wrong. It’s wrong, but it doesn’t stop the feeling.

He’s probably smoking in the living room again and you know because the strong smell creeps into your room and it does every time your mom is on a business trip. Without her around, there’s no one to scold him, no one to fix him and you’re stuck with this version of Sukuna. This version of Sukuna who doesn’t hold back on his habits whether it be out of spite or the lack of self control. But everything is fine as long as there’s a wall between the two of you. At least that’s what you think.

It all starts with a soft knock on your door.

“Are you alright, princess?”

You don’t respond, only burying yourself deeper into your covers, waiting for the sound of the footsteps to signify that he’s gone.

“I know you’re awake. I just wanna help you.”

You give in, walking over to your door and opening it. You’re met with the sight of your stepdad with his hair messier than usual, the hoodie long gone and replaced with a loose t-shirt that’s a little too short on him. He leans on your doorway, scanning your dimly lit room with red eyes. He stinks of marijuana, like he always does, and you pinch your nose. “What do you want?”

“Jeez, just trying to help you,” he answers, a soft smile on his face, “You did say you were on your period. I can get you something, you know.”

“No, thanks.” you reply, attempting to close the door, but he prevents it, holding it open with one hand, “You know, if you’re having stomach pains, I can let you have a hit.”

It would be your first time. Sure, you’ve smelled, seen, and interacted with him in this state, but never got the offer to actually smoke a joint with him. And it’s not like you were opposed to smoking at all, but you were scared. You’re hesitant, weighing out each pro and con while the pain in your stomach begs you to take the offer. But the other, more rational, part of you reminds you what you’re scared of - what you might do, what you might say - and it makes the simple offer more and more complicated.

And just like that, your mind snaps back into your body. “Fine.”

“Alright, then.”

You’re back on the couch, patiently waiting for him to finish rolling up and you hate admitting this, even if it’s only your mind, but he looks good while doing it, staring right at you while he licks the paper. You don’t realize it until he’s snapping his fingers in front of your face, but you were staring back, and there’s a slight smile on his face that’s almost mischievous. “This is your first time, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. You always want to get high with someone you trust, you know?” he says, holding up the lighter.

Someone you trust, huh.

It’s one bold assumption -- the assumption that you trust him at all -- but the more you come out of your room from time to time, seeing the contrasting attitudes between him and your mom, seeing the differences in how each person treats you, you wonder who’s at fault. When you hear the screaming match, is it really him that’s in the wrong? When his hand brushes over your bare legs and those butterflies flutter in your stomach is it his fault that you feel that way? Each question is hard to answer and each feeling is hard to decipher, but you’ll figure it out at some point.

You suck in the smoke, letting it fill your lungs before going into a coughing fit while Sukuna hysterically laughs at you. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment and you let out a quiet apology for not being able to inhale more. “Don’t worry about it, it’s your first time.” He reassures you, letting his arm fall in the spot behind you before taking another hit from the joint in your hand.

By your third hit, you start to feel lighter and lighter, and your eyelids start to get heavy. Everything looks and feels hazy, so much that you don’t even register the hand trailing on your thigh, getting higher and higher. It’s a soft touch, only a caress, but you’re giggling and soon enough turning your face towards his. And you don’t realize how close you two are until your noses touch and his breath fans over your lips.

“You trust me, right? Jus’ wanna help you,” he mutters and you nod, looking up at him with half lidded eyes.

It’s one bold assumption, each question in your mind hard to answer, each feeling hard to decipher, but there’s one that stands out: Why does it matter who’s at fault anyways?

He leans in, lips meeting each other in a messy kiss. It’s wet, rough, and his teeth nibble on your bottom lip, causing your mouth to open as you let him in. You let him help you and he gets right to work, pulling down your shorts until the only thing separating your wet heat from his hand is your underwear. And your pad. Panic shoots through your veins once you realize it. “Stop! Wait!” you hold his hand, weakly keeping it away from your crotch.

“I’m on my period, remember?”

“Gonna help you. Don’t care if it’s messy.” he replies, settling himself between your legs, breath practically blowing over your clothed core.

He pulls down your underwear, paying no attention to the pad sticking on the inside. One well manicured finger prods at your entrance, slipping through your slick cunt and curling in the process before he adds another. You’re already hypersensitive from the high and your monthly, the states intensifying every movement of his two fingers and you’re already close, walls fluttering and the knot in your tummy unraveling. “Now? It’s only been a minute, babygirl.” he chuckles, watching your body squirm.

“Give me another,” he commands and you nod weakly, dark pink and red arousal dripping onto the white couch, staining the pure material. Your hands tangle themselves in pinkish blonde hair, letting out tiny mewls while his fingers thrust into you at a rapid speed, his thumb rubbing against your little pearl. He hits the spongy spot inside of you, the stimulation of both places bringing you more and more and waves of pleasure, whines filling up the entirety of the living room.

“C-Close, daddy,” you pant out, your hole squeezing tight around thick fingers, the feeling of ecstasy reverberating all over your body.

“I know, babygirl,” he coos, one hand prying your legs apart. He watches you come apart, a look of admiration in his face, his lips curving upwards in an evil grin, “But you’re gonna have to give one more.”

“I-I can’t, daddy. I’m sorry-”

“I said, one more,” he growls, a clear shift from his loving tone, “So selfish.”

His fingers don’t stop, only fucking into you harder and faster from his previous pace. His fingers are covered in blood, but he doesn’t care, burying them deep into your overstimulated cunny, curling them as your back arches and your hands grip the cushions. “I can’t do it, please-”

“Sure, you can,” he replies before his mouth latches around your clit, a slight metallic taste on his tongue. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you lose the ability to form coherent sentences while the tip of his tongue teases the little nub. The lewd sound of his mouth sucking onto the pearl joins in with your moans and the squelching from him fucking into your little hole. He’s ruining your pussy with his mouth and his fingers alone, waves of pleasure crashing onto you, your pink release coating his digits.

“D-Daddy,” you whine, pressure building up in your lower stomach, your period long forgotten.

“I know,” he smirks, feeling your walls pulsate, rubbing against all of the right places, “I know, babygirl.”

As you come down from your high, you look down at the mess, paranoia flooding your mind, but Sukuna’s hand trails down your thigh, a silent form of reassurance. You’re slowly calming down until you see red slick on his fingers and you feel the need to apologize profusely. Though, he reads you like a book and smirks, bringing them up to his lips and licking it all off, sucking them as if they tasted like honey, savoring the taste of your bloody cunny.

“I said I was gonna help you. You should trust me more, yeah?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“You should be sorry,” he replied, his breath fanning over your pussy, “But you can make it up to me by letting me eat this sweet pussy, hm?”

Your body is floating, your sense of judgement and humiliation foggy from the high of your orgasm, unable to form a coherent form of refusal. You’re already flustered from the way he’s been treating your bleeding cunt, but there’s a sense of hunger in his eyes and that’s when you know he doesn’t care either way. Sukuna takes this lack of response as approval and suddenly his tongue is diving into your overstimulated pussy, licking up all you had to offer.

He licks up from your hole before sucking his clit into your mouth, slurping up your folds like he was a starved man. It’s clear he doesn’t care about the red that covers up the lower half of his face. In fact, you’d think he enjoys it, cherishes the metallic taste on his tongue. Every time your hole clenches around nothing, he moans into your cunt, sending vibrations throughout your entire body.

“You taste like the sweetest fucking candy, princess,” he comments, pulling away from your cunt before diving back in.

You’re overcome with bliss and he keeps on lapping at your folds, trying to take in the entirety of your release, barely even allowing for your recovery, walls convulsing with every movement of his tongue. His hands support your shaking thighs as you look down at where his lips meet your core and he’s looking right at you, watching your pretty face as you come down at the sight. When he pulls away from the final time, he gives your inner thigh a kiss followed by a hard bite and a hickey.

“Thanks for the dinner.”

#sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna smut #🌟.dc!#🌟.sukuna ryomen!#🌟.jjk!#tw.stepcest #tw.period sex #tw.blood #tw.bloodplay #tw.manipulation #tw.dubcon #tw.overstimulation #tw.weed #tw.high sex #tw.dark #tw.mommy issues #🌟.wap!#🌟 — works!

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lune-hime · 3 years

Text

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 10

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tulipa alba coreulea oculata ~ A modest tulip of pearl hue that awakens before its sisters in the early spring. When she blooms, the inky beauty of her indigo heart is revealed.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

Colors danced in soft swirls under your closed eyelids. They were so thickly painted that you felt as if one swipe of your hand would intertwine their chromatic trails and mix their hues. You recognized this work of art as your euphoria; the painting of which you dreamed of many moons ago.

The delicate hands of your little muse patted your cheeks in a gentle reminder that you were too close to the surface to drift back into darkness. Here you waited in this limbo with the young girl, watching as the colors spun faster against her obsidian locks. She was the culmination of everything you could have in the future where you recovered.

The colors gained ferocity as the natural lighting from the wide window above your bed assaulted your eyes. It was as if you were an infant gazing upon the unfamiliar world so intensely it was painful. The searing brightness crinkled your brow and pinched uncomfortably at the corners of your eyes.

Sharp pain bombarded you just as the light did. It’s ivory beams peeled the lengthened sleep from your body and left a dull aching in its wake. The discomfort that now hugged your form was worth it, though, for when your vision gradually sifted up from the murky depths of unconsciousness you wanted to cry on spot at the valkyrie before you.

He contrasted so vibrantly against the pearly essence of the wallpaper of your room that you weren’t sure if you were still actually dwelling in your painting. An overwhelming urge to mold into him wracked your sedentary muscles. You were agitated at your weakened body, irritated that it couldn’t give your mind what it desired. The magnetic sensation was so strong that, willing your mind could override your physical short circuitry, it would have ejected itself out of its damaged shell and crashed into his open chest.

“Lee-” You rasped. Your voice was an exclamation within but manifested into a barely audible moan.

The minute noise grasped his attention, though.

Your phantom limbs bounced with touch starved compulsion when his head whipped around. You finally laid actual eyes on your favorite features sculpted by the universe.

“Lee-vi.” You croaked. The excitement of saying his name sapped what little energy you had from you as you fell into the little girl’s awaiting palms once more.

You lingered momentarily on the rickety bridge between consciousness and nothingness, listening to his muffled frantic calls. A warm wind rocked the bridge as his hands against your cheeks hit you like a summer heat wave. His touch endowed you with newfound vigor and your eyes opened once again.

He hovered mere inches from your face. The skin you longed to embrace was carved with petal-soft streams of tears that pooled from his desperate eyes and traversed porcelain slopes to drip down his chin. Your eyes instantly brimmed with salty gratitude upon being able to swim in those stormy seas of silver.

“Levi…” You breathily whimpered, the corners of your mouth quivering upward as what felt like years of being trapped in a bottle. Ten minutes he had grappled for his name on your lips but to you, it had left like a passing fancy.

“It’s me. It’s me-Y/N, it’s me .” He reassured for both himself, and for you. His voice wobbled with the desperate tambour of a colt eager to stand on its own among spring grass. The sheer quaking of his form; from his deeply furrowed brow, to the tears that fell in divine pools, to the frantic hesitation of his touches was in a magnitude that you had never seen in him before.

“Levi.” You sighed again, a weak smile sluggishly tugging at the corners of your lips. Like a chick learning to chirp you repeated his name as a mantra.

And by Ymir every time you chirped he vibrated at a frequency you couldn’t outwardly match.

“I’m here, Y/N.” He cooed as his emptiness finally filled with the colors of your essence. He pressed your foreheads together and basked in the warmth of your skin. “And you’re finally here.”

The simple physical touch satisfied both of your needy minds; Levi to know you were awake and you to feel like you were present. He wanted to say more. Explode with everything he had seen and felt these past few days. To unload what felt like months of unshared memories in your absence. But he didn’t want to overwhelm you any more. So he settled on four words.

“I love you, Y/N.” He uttered. You could hear the incoming flow of tears diluting his tone. Those words had fallen from his lips countless times since your accident, both internally and externally, but now they actually fell upon you. And it felt like nothing else mattered. “I love you, I love you.”

“And I love you.” You cried, fingers ever so tiredly trailing up his arm to weakly touch the softness of his hair. The strands glided between your languid flutters. There you stayed basking in the feeling of home and letting the bulbs of your love bloom between you.

“Wh...where are we? It looks like…” You trailed off as your head lolled onto his shoulder. Your eyes trailed the room, from window to wall and bureau to bedside table.

“We’re at Oma’s.” Levi explained as he smoothed down some hairs tangled in your drool from the corner of your mouth.

“Oma…” Relief was evident in your exhale. There was no other place and no other sheets you would rather be cocooned in than your childhood room after the last image your eyes captured was that carrion swamp of toothy rocks.

“She’s here then?” You asked, blinking to make sure you were actually awake.

“She left a bit ago to run errands with Felicia-”

“Felicia…” Your lips wandered over their names as if you were recalling them from a story read long ago.

“Mhm. She and Oma have been taking care of you.” Levi checked your eyes for any signs of dilation and disorientation as you processed everything. Everything seemed fine until you groaned when a chord of pain shot up your taught muscles.

“My side hurts.” You complained as your body reflexively stretched.

“I know. Don’t try to move too quickly.” Levi instructed gently. He tried to reposition you into a less painful sitting position with as much sweetness as his voice.

“How bad is it?” You bared your teeth as he shifted you. Levi kept his face from cringing at the memory of Oma fabricating a new seam for your flesh. He played with your fingers to keep your attention on staying awake.

“Oma had to stitch almost your entire side. You...had lost a lot of blood already before I found you. But I was able to put enough pressure on it to keep you-” Levi swallowed and finished his sentence with a deep inhale.

The grotesque images of the incident were painted in thick brush strokes along the bow of your brain. To push them down you focused your gaze on Levi’s doting touches and the smoothness of his milky skin.

“Do you remember what happened?” He pressed, gentle and hesitant.

You hummed in affirmation. You were sure not even the void could remove the scars left upon you by death’s cradle; both physically and mentally.

“Connie and I were alone. We were clearing out the titans to the west when Reiner knocked the wind out of me and I fell right into the abnormal…” You felt Levi’s fingers twitch in aggravation. You were too exhausted now to feel that intense hatred that had been palm-up body slammed into you.

“It grazed my side with its teeth...but I managed to take it down.” You drew in a ragged breath, the pseudo-smell of carcasses overpowering the sweet smell of the tea still steeping in the kettle nearby.

“I...I felt like what being chewed alive is like, Levi.”

Your utter outpouring of torture and fearful tears had Levi’s heart shattering all over again as it had the moment he retrieved your limp body from that sticky pool of blood. He caged the animosity that steamed under his skin for Reiner’s negligence, for the titan’s bloodlust, and for the dangerous oath both of you had taken. He had more to be grateful for right now than angry over.

His thumbs pressed feather-light kisses to your water lines, drying the flooded areas. He brought his hands to your cheeks and leaned in close so you were forced to reside within the shining slate mines of his irises.

“You’re alright now. You’re here, I’m here. You made it out, sweetheart, and nothing will be able to bring you back to that moment.” Levi said with a firmness and sincerity that bathed you in immediate serenity.

Levi rarely used pet-names with you. His terms of endearment came in the form of actions and gestures rather than words. Only when he wanted to communicate something deeper, a feeling he would never come close to conveying with his vocabulary, did they break through the surface.

“I’m assuming I fucked him up since I’m still alive.” You tried to joke as dizziness further loosened its constricting grip on your head.

“From what I saw, you absolutely fucked him up.” Levi cracked a smile when you wheezed out a laugh.

“Did Eren-?” You began. Your blackout had left you with many unanswered questions.

“I don’t know. By the time I had seen your flare they had already disappeared.” He answered.

“Don’t even.” He added. He sifted through your disorientation and hurt to find the fledgling tendrils of guilt creeping up your brow.

“None of us expected that attack. We all did what we could and no one can fault us for that.”

You chewed the inner corner of your lip and let his words sink in.

“You fought so well. You protected Connie and killed that abnormal who most likely would have gone on to kill someone else. I’m proud of you.”

Your bottom lip quivered under his earnest praise.

You strained towards him and Levi realized you were attempting to give him a kiss. He hesitated momentarily, afraid of embracing you in a sore spot or accidentally pressing you backwards at an awkward angle. With a delicate crane of his neck he met you more than halfway. His lips fell upon yours with the tenderness of a newborn fawn’s footsteps but the ferocity of lovers parted by a great ocean.

He drew back to see a pout where his lips had just resided.

“What is it?”

“I really have to pee.” You stated.

Levi’s rocking waves of baritone laughter and his steady arms lifted you from your bed.

“I want to try walking.” You proclaimed with determination, gaze focused straight ahead on the ensuite bathroom.

Levi was impressed with how well you tottered across the room, with his structural support of course. He would wince every time you did but you didn’t let the fire in your side impede your locomotion.

“Do you need me to stay?” He asked in genuine concern. He watched you skeptically as you wobbled above the toilet.

“You pervert.” You huffed, grimacing at the tightness in your thighs as you crouched down. “But yes please.”

Once business had been taken care of and you had assured him you felt coordinated enough to slowly walk back to bed yourself, Levi had gone to clean up his fallen tea cup. He had just finished dabbing the bedside rug with a rag when your sniffle dragged him to his feet.

The fabric of your nightgown, despite being silken to the touch, had snagged the rough skin of your stitches like sharp brambles as you bunched it up to your breasts. With your torso fully exposed to your morbidly curious gaze, you had never been more disgusted with yourself.

Your body resembled the two sides of a coin in how starkly different they looked. Supple curves flowed beautifully into strong and nimble legs. Across the way, a crescent moon of scissored flesh dug its hooks into your once smooth skin. Lightning bolts of broken blood vessels and bruising held your thigh to your hips like a haphazardly made corn doll.

“I’ve never looked so weak.” Your disbelief manifested itself in a dark chuckle. The image of your battered body had left you in shock at your forced metamorphosis. Your fingertips barely tapped at your stitches as if they were repulsed to be in the vicinity of your wound.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from your tears until Levi’s body carefully wrapped around yours from behind. He didn’t dare touch your scarring, but he did intertwine your hands with his and placed his head on your shoulder.

“I don’t think you’ve ever looked so strong.” He whispered with an airy kiss to your neck. You looked up to meet his eyes in the mirror and your chest clenched at his unfiltered adoration.

“You will heal. And to speed that up you need to not push yourself.” Levi gently ushered you away from the mirror and turned you back towards the bed.

As you walked, your gaze fell to the open bedroom door. Your eyes began to water once again, pooling at your bottom lids like the body of water you now cried for. Levi anxiously regarded you and your newest bout of tears.

“Levi...is Puddle?” You coughed. A heavy rock of dread plummeted into your stomach. You couldn’t recall the last time you had seen your other beloved boy. Levi grinned fondly.

“He’s fine. He’s out in the pasture.” He assured you. He felt the breath you had been holding release against his side and you continued your journey back to bed.

Once you had practically deflated back into the blankets, it dawned on Levi that you would need sustenance.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Lightheaded?” He mused like a mother hen.

“All of the above but I don’t think I can stomach anything right now.”

“I’ll just get water, then.” He decided and dipped out of the room. The steady tick-tock of the carved clock and the twittering of the birds above you almost lulled you to sleep when Levi re-emerged.

The water was unpleasant; too cool against the dryness of your throat. As you forced yourself to gulp it down, you registered Levi’s outfit. The realization made you lightly gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Levi bristled, fearing one of your organs decided to pop.

“Those clothes…” You whispered as you licked the final droplets of water from your lips.

Shit, were you upset he had borrowed them? Maybe he was encroaching on something precious.

“Y/N I didn’t-”

You shook your head and smiled sweetly.

“They look good on you.” You giggled at the blush that rose on his pale cheeks.

“The pants are a little too long though...shorty.” You winked weakly. Levi was relieved that you felt alright enough to tease him. It was a more than welcome nuisance.

“Not my fault everyone in your family besides Oma seem to be giants.” He countered as he sat down on the empty side of the bed.

“Oh Ymir, I’ve been out for...how long have I been unconscious?”

“Two and a half days.”

“ Shit , that means you’ve been all alone with Oma.” You whined. “I take full responsibility for anything she’s done or said.”

Levi shut you up with another kiss the consistency of butterfly wings. He pulled back and your heart fluttered at the light in his features.

“We get along pretty well.”

“She hasn’t scarred you yet? That’s a first.”

“I didn’t say that.” He replied with impish jest.

“We...understand one another.” Levi stated simply. You beamed at his comment and gave him a once over, noting his seemingly pristine physical condition.

“You’re doing okay? You look fine.”

“My shoulder is bruised and I feel stiff but that’s it.” He reassured with a spirited flex of his shoulder blades.

Your mouth hung open in incoming speech when a crashing at the base of the stairs followed by two sets of groans interrupted you.

“Dammit Felicia just-place them at the bottom of the stairs. No! See I knew this was going to happen, your arms are the consistency of chicken legs. You could have easily made a second trip from the carriage.” Oma scolded her with fiery disappointment obvious in her tone.

You and Levi exchanged amused glances at the antics below the stairs.

“Levi, are you up here?” Oma called as she ascended to the second floor. You bit your lips in anticipation of your reunion with your grandmother.

“I’m in here.” Levi replied with a squeeze of your hand.

“That foolish girl has just spilled half of her suitcase onto the floor.” The old woman complained as she approached your bedroom. A pair of crutches under one arm and a fresh package of bandages entered your room just before she did.

“I mean, really, she has to be aware that she has the strength of a bumbleb-”

“Hi Oma.” You hiccuped. Your cheerful greeting faded into a whimper at the sight of her. She looked as lively and as lovely as you had last seen her. The crutches fell to the floor with a sharp clatter and she turned to you with wide eyes.

“ Oh , my darling.” She croaked, gliding to your side and smothering you with careful kisses on every corner of your face. Levi pulled away to let the weeping woman embrace her kin. You buried your head into her shoulder and sighed into her familiar cradle.

The beautiful, joyously tearful reunion drove that stake of peculiar familial warmth deeper into Levi’s chest as he silently watched on as Oma and you began to catch up.

“Y/N!” Felicia screamed. She stood at the foot of the bed utterly petrified with relieved shock.

“Hi Felicia.” A grin parted the wetness on your face. She was quick to take you into her arms as well, and held you there as she rambled on about how ecstatic she was that you were awake.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You said as she pulled away. Your eyes crinkled and her’s mirrored yours.

“All of you.” You added, looking to every one of your earthly angels around you. “What time is it?”

“Half past three.” Oma said, squinting at the clock.

“Aw, I missed my morning coffee.”

The once fragile room was filled with hearty laughter and smiles for the rest of that afternoon.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

After spending the next few hours lazing with second swigs of tea and half eaten dinner plates, Levi gave your interlocked palms a squeeze. He broke away and padded out of the room to give you and Oma much needed alone time. The clanking of porcelain against the sink drew his attention to the kitchen archway and he paused momentarily along his descent.

“It sounds like an earthquake is breaking all of your dishes.” Levi commented dryly. Felicia yelped in surprise, generating even more clanking.

“Eek, I apologize if my cleaning has been bothering you! Oh walls, has it been loud enough to disturb Y/N??” She buzzed in anxiety. Levi threw her a half smile.

“I was joking. Clearly you didn’t take it that way...do you need help?” He said and leaned in the archway to the kitchen.

“O-oh...ahahah.” She sputtered and offered a wiggly, but calmer, grin back. “No, I’m all good here despite the noise. So no need to trouble yourself! Although I know you do love cleaning…”

Levi deadpanned into a single nod and continued out to the front porch. Two rocking chairs perched themselves along the ornate railing as they relished in the feature film that was the evening tulips. The fields were dulled by the blue haze of the encroaching moonlight.

He plopped down into the aged wood and took in his new favorite smell; country air. He had absolutely no idea what he had been missing with the must and dust of the underground and the metallic smell of blood against pine needles outside the walls.

He let time take the backseat to his rocking as he mildly entertained himself by finding shapes in the swaying flowers. His hand absentmindedly fiddled with the contents of his pocket. He sighed contently and brought them out of their cotton resting place and into the open. The two little bands of gold were illuminated against the pale floral sea.

A snort jolted the rings back into his pocket and whipped his head to the source. His body stiffened like an agitated teenager harboring stolen alcohol. Oma had appeared with a pony, a creature of small mousey brown and stout stature. It bore a harness with large wicker baskets hanging from either side of its chubby shoulders.

“Wanna help a brittle old woman with some last minute harvesting? I’m extremely behind on today’s work for obvious reasons." Oma invited with spice in her tone. If she had seen the jewelry, she was very convincing at hiding otherwise. Levi indulged in the rocking chair, creaking back and forth a couple times, before heaving himself up silently.

“It will do you good to get those muscles moving.” She said, patting his good shoulder as he neared. Once he was standing next to her she gripped his collar and yanked it downward. Levi faltered at the unexpected grapple and stumbled backwards. She peeped under the cloth, admiring the progress of her handiwork.

“Looks good still.” She affirmed, playfully snapping the band back and she waltzed into the field. “Damn I’m one hell of a seamstress.”

Levi followed the pony’s hoofprints down the main lane until the house was barely in view. They arrived at a patch of tulips the color of midday sunshine and lemon drop candy.

“Alright, look here boy.” She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. Levi regarded her as she kneeled down in front of her chosen flowers, one of the wicker baskets loyally resting at her side.

“It’s not as simple as pulling the damned thing up, you might tear the bulb out that way. If you do that you owe me whatever I would have earned from the re-cultivation of that tulip.” She sternly explained, sending him daggers in her eyes he had come to recognize held no malice.

Levi watched carefully as she dug out around the base of the stem, twisted gently with a firm grasp, and lifted, effortlessly releasing the flower from its anchor. He kneeled down in his picking area and mimicked her movements. After a couple broken stems and constructive criticism they had fallen into a steady rhythm.

“So...do you want to show me what’s jangling around in your pocket?” Oma inquired with a sly innocence. Levi eyed her with his grasp mid stem. Her features were smug with knowledge.

“You want to see what is inside my pocket?” Levi quipped back as he yanked the flower from its birthplace.

“Uh-huh.”

“Like...lint?” Levi returned matter-of-factly. He was grateful straight facing was his most coveted skill in interrogations such as these.

Oma cackled and blew the excess dirt from her fingertips.

“I saw the rings, Levi. No use playing dumb with me.” She stopped her harvest and gauged him for a reaction.

Levi cleared his throat and continued working.

“How do you know I wasn’t keeping them safe for Erwin’s wedding to his eyebrows?” Levi replied with an even tone. He cringed at his bullshit.

“Now that’s a wedding I’d like to be invited to.” Oma laughed, and Levi couldn’t help but grin at his absolute shitty cover up.

“It doesn’t- didn’t - really matter that much to me. Getting married.” He began as his hand hovered over the wind kissed petals of his next flower. It took a couple of soft sways for him to decide how to articulate his feelings.

“Why should I let a piece of paper, a circlet of metal, and some holy man manifest a promise that I’ve already committed to her myself?”

Oma hummed along in acknowledgment.

“But...realizing how much marriage meant to her made me place my opinions aside and realize I was being selfish in my reservations.”

A grasshopper popped in and out of the columns of stems.

“She’s never made a big deal out of it, but I’m not blind. I see the way she fawns over wedding dresses and how her eyes light up when she sees families on the street.”

His tone grew somber as thoughts of doubt flooded his mind. When the thought of becoming a husband and even a father crossed his mind he shoved them immediately into the darkest corners of his subconscious. But despite those intimate fears, he would never doubt he wanted to make you happy for the rest of his days.

“I want to give Y/N something that she can cherish for a long time in a world where everything we have seems so temporary. And standing through a ceremony celebrating our commitment...I guess isn’t the worst thing I could think of.”

With a slow exhale, he removed the rings from his pocket and held them up. Oma noted he regarded them with the same tenderness he reserved for you. His self awareness and lack of confidence intertwined with the utter devotion she could see he had for you brewed a hearth in her chest.

“Well, congratulations. They’re lovely. She’s going to absolutely love them.” Pure fondness spread through every crevasse in Oma’s face and overwhelmed Levi with domesticity. He averted her gaze and repocketed his trinkets. He grunted awkwardly with a nod.

“Thank you.” She said and began working again.

“For what?” Levi’s brow furrowed as he too resumed.

“For loving her, and receiving her love in return. It sounds like a lot of fairy-tale bullshit and troll scrotums, but love is quite the powerful ally.”

He rose his head to a crinkled smile and he nodded with a half moon of his own on his lips. His smile, however, did not betray the bleakness in his features.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of them as they continued to pluck the beauties from their earthy homes. They eavesdropped on the occasional yowl from a fox and the croaking of toads.

“Do you know what makes a good, sturdy, lively tulip, shorty?” Oma asked as she strong-armed one from the ground. She examined the flower with eyes that Levi’s own vision would never be able to duplicate.

“Water.” He guessed offhandedly, flicking a worm off of the roots of his own flower.

The older woman scoffed at the blandness of his answer.

“If that’s all it took, I’d be richer and my lower back wouldn’t ache like a bitch.” She cackled. “You’ve got the basic idea. But you haven’t even scratched the most important bits.”

Levi’s verbal silence pressed her to continue as he scooted over to the next patch nearest to him.

“First you need rich soil. If you live where that soil is contaminated-ya know too much clay, too little nutrients. Then you need to physically make the soil capable of growing life.” She began with a bulky wheeze as she lifted her basket to reposition herself over her floral children.

“Here, thankfully the soil is loose, airy, and just a bit sandy. But that wasn’t the case at our old place. A downright hard job it was to get those little bastards to grow. But we did.”

“Once you’ve got your soil sorted out, you need the bulbs. Some of the bulbs won’t make it. That’s just how it is. But the ones that do poke their little heads above the ground and leave their dark incubations.”

“Then comes the water.” She looked at him pointedly and he rolled his eyes. “It’s the one constant thing in a tulip’s life that nurtures it into maturity.”

“How versed are you in tulip anatomy?” Oma asked as she held her latest victim up. Levi blinked at her.

“Expertly.”

His sass made her smirk.

“Well, then you’ll know that petals-arguably the most cherished and viewed piece-are a part of the tulip. So is the stamen, pistil, and pedicel.” She lectured while supporting her points with gestures to the places on the plant she was talking about.

“While they are all interconnected with the flower, they aren’t the whole tulip.” She stated. She threw the saffron colored flower in an underhand swoop to Levi who caught it effortlessly. He twirled the soft skin of the largest petals between his thumb and index finger as she talked before tossing it into his own basket.

“There’s a lot nature can teach us about ourselves. I mean we’re all natural beings, even the titans.” She said with pursed lips and swiftly grabbed at the pony’s halter when she saw him mouthing for the buffet in her basket.

“That’s why I’ve stuck with this job for so long. By looking at them, they remind me that my oddities, mistakes, and what-have-you, may linger with me and be a part of me...but they aren’t all of me. There’s still a bulb down there under the earth waiting to re-blossom.”

Levi now understood the depth of her analogy. Normally, if someone was beating around the bush to tell him he needs to cheer up he would have either slammed the door in their face, or their face into the door. But this didn’t feel like that. Her words seeped into his heart and rested there in what he could only begin to grasp as...parental warmth.

“That’s what you need to do to help yourself, I’ve learned. To cultivate learning to live with yourself and then in turn others.” She sighed as she pressed the disturbed soil back into place.

When Levi looked down, his hands were suddenly so small and so caked in dirt. But not dirt from the fields. No, it was an oily, slick dirt that tasted like oxidized metal when he ate stale bread from them.

“Tulips don’t live forever even though they blossom every year. Life could not exist without death, and it only hurts yourself to deny mortality in you and in others. It only makes you suffer, not the loved ones that have passed before you or the ones that slipped through your fingers.”

He was shaking like he used to when his malnourished body constantly teetered on the edge of starvation. His bony wrists buckled under the immense weight of the flower and it tumbled to the ground in front of him. He wore a once expensive sleeping gown gifted to his mother by one of her regulars. It was clearly for her, but she had given it to her poor son to provide him with that extra warmth when she was too sick to wrap him in her love herself. It was tattered and stained from years of wear. But it still smelled of her.

“Everyone and everything in this world of ours must die. Life is a precious gift with that knowledge. And a gift so precious can’t be wasted on beating yourself down for existing, for living . Self proclaimed demons and mistakes in all.”

Levi felt the childish pressure of tears building behind his eyes. He wished to choke out a whine, to let them burst out, to feel the safety of his mother’s chest against his wet cheeks instead of her lifeless embrace. He felt the tantrum of frustration at all of this emotion he kept so expertly under lock and key. His bare toes sank into the flowers behind him as he knelt on the soil just as he did the cramped trailer where he resided when his mother worked in their room.

He finally felt like a child in the presence of a mother’s comfort. Oma’s consolation brought back that gangly, mute, shelled boy. The boy who had to grow up into a man overnight, surrounded by reflections in knives and last words as screams. The boy who never had the chance to cry it out about foolish things like his mother not being able to take him on a walk through the city, like his bloated belly eating itself instead of dinner, like never being able to see the sun. The boy who was always the pillar for others and never had a guardian to stroke his head and tell him that better days are coming.

“I’m rambling like this because I see the intense self loathing in you that I used to feel for myself-” She half chuckled to make light of her weighted words. The dry laugh faded into the air with the rest of her sentence when she gazed upon him. Her smile dropped as bubbling tears cascaded over his dark bottom lashes.

“Oh, my dear.” Oma gasped out a breathy coo. She instantly dropped her basket, not caring if her naughty pony ate some of her crop. She flew to him; her knees before his and her hand pressing his head to her shoulder. Her other arm rubbed ginger ovals into his back that urged him to crumple into her strong embrace.

For a moment, he wondered if this is what his mother would have felt like if she hadn’t been so frail. He could only guess that this is the feeling he had missed. The childhood was never nurtured into him. The childhood he had forsaken for survival. And in a twisted way, he was now more than ever thankful for the horrors of his youth as he nestled into Oma’s loving arms. Because he was beginning to understand that his own life was precious. Not just yours or Oma’s or Felicia’s or Erwin’s or Petra’s or everyone he fought for.

She was right, and Levi was too prideful to tell her how grateful he was for her in this moment.

“I.” He fought to swallow his shame in his childish behavior, but the soft strokes of her fingers through his hair and the solace in his chest at her gentle rocking plunged it down his esophagus.

“I needed to hear that.” His voice quivered into the puffy fabric of her shoulder.

"We all do." Oma hummed and continued her ministrations, allowing him to tearfully bleed a lifetime of juvenile sorrows onto her and out of him.

Maybe he did need to let his withered leaves and wilted colors fall from his body, leaving him with just his skeleton and his heart.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

The creaking of the wood under his boots was the only sound in the dim darkness of the newborn night as he made his way upstairs. He paused at your door, glancing in to see you tucked back under the sheets. A half smile carried him back to his temporary chambers to wash up. He managed to fully wash the silt from under his fingernails and his knuckles while still keeping Oma's comfort there.

When he deemed himself fully cleansed, he slunk through the crack in your doorway without causing the hinges on the old wood to groan. He deftly sat in the chair still positioned next to your form. His eyes softened at the slight twitch of your nose and your steady breaths.

Just as he began admiring the warm glow of life rising back up into your skin, your eyelashes fluttered in greeting.

“Did I wake you?” He whispered, his voice devoid of anything but airy tenderness.

You shook your head, the plushness of your pillow swallowing your face then regurgitating it up.

“No, I was just resting my eyes.” You blatantly lied through a smile that was blinding in comparison to the muted candle light.

“I’ve slept too much these past few days. I don’t want to right now…” You began with the saddest attempt at a pout Levi had ever witnessed. Just speaking that sentence already almost sent you into another deep slumber.

“Then just keep resting your eyes then, instead of sleeping.” Levi whispered as you trailed off in obvious exhaustion. He pressed his hand to your forehead, blissfully cool from the tap water, and moved your hair away. In its place, his lips placed the sweet hum of affectionate proximity on your skin.

You registered the chair rubbing against the floorboards through the incoming sleep.

“Will you stay, Levi?” You asked, doe eyes blinking up through the gray.

You didn’t even have to ask him.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

You felt the bed dip to your left. He settled in beside you on his side, his arm a firm resting place for his head as he gazed upon you through the night veil. He didn’t draw you to him as he usually would. It would scar him if he selfishly undid the hard work of Oma and Felicia. For now, just basking in the aura of your wellbeing was enough of a security blanket. You weakly shifted so your head was perched in his direction.

The two of you laid in silent fear of sleep. You didn’t want your beautiful little angel to carry you back into the void. Levi didn’t want his demons to vouch all of this as a practical joke and take you from him when he rose the next morning.

“Levi.”

“Hmm?”

“You called her Oma.” You mumbled, finally relenting into the arms of rest.

“I did.”

#Levi fanfiction #Levi Heichou #levi x reader #levi fluff #LEVI ACKERMAN #AoT #aot fluff #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #anime fanfiction #Jean Kirschstein #bisexual jean #hange zoe #levi ackerman x reader

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

Text

❥𝓔𝓻𝓸𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓼𝔂𝓬𝓱𝓮

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐸𝑟𝑜𝑠! 𝐾𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔 × 𝑃𝑠𝑦𝑐ℎ𝑒! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝐿𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦/𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑀𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑦 𝐴𝑈.

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 11.8𝐾

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝, 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠, 𝑚𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠/ 𝑑𝑒𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒, 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘, 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡.

~"𝑀𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑢�� 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑡.

𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑔𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠." - 𝐴𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑎 𝐾𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑧𝑎𝑛.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

"Eros, my darling son.......come here for a minute."

The golden haired goddess gently stroke the dove that was nestled in her embrace, her eyes fixated on the ray of light that shone through the crystal windows of her palace.

She heard the footsteps of her beloved child stop right in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him bend down in obeisance to her, his arm rested across his chest.

"Yes mother?" The snowy white haired deity awaited her instructions.

"I've been rather uneasy lately my love. Very uneasy." She waved her hand and he slowly rose up, eyes meeting hers.

"Why is that?"

The Olympian got up from her seat, sending the little dove flying away to perch itself on one of the trees that decorated the room. Gracefully, she paced around the room, her hands folded in front of her abdomen, fingers tapping against each other as she mused about the current situation.

"There's been....some unsettling rumors being spread in the mortal world and it has reached Olympus..."

Eros waited for her to continue. It must have been something very grievous for her to be so out of sorts, and this was the same goddess who didn't fear the consequences when her long life affair with his father, Ares, was discovered.

She peered down the window, sneering at the city below that was barely visible with all the clouds covering a vast majority of it.

"Apparently one of the daughter's of the King of Athens is said to be remarkably beautiful....."

She paused as she took a deep breath, jaw clenching as she sputtered out the next words.

"So enchanting that they dare compare her to me....Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty itself....

They've even begun to bring gifts and worship her on the day they're supposed to pay respect and praise to me!"

Eros flinched slightly when she hastily turned around and marched past him, tipping over a table that held a tray with a golden tea set. But he didn't stop her, so used to his mother's infantile tantrums, although he was pretty shocked to hear the severity of the issue. To worship a mere mortal, one who was so far below one of the gods, and not just any god, but one of the 12 Olympians themselves, was inconceivable.

Aphrodite clenched and unclenched her fist, trying to control her fury threatening to seek vengeance.

"I need you to go down there and find out who she is. And when you find her.....shoot her." She commanded him.

Eros nodded, understanding what she was asking of him.

"Who would you like me to have her fall for?"

Aphrodite groaned in annoyance.

"Oh! I don't know! Anyone or anything! An old haggard beggar, a toad, have her go mad over a tree stump for all I care! Just make her go insane!" She threw a cluster of grapes across the room, scaring the flock of doves who flew away to different parts of the room.

"As you wish my goddess."

Eros bowed to his mother one last time before retreating out of the hall, and going to his own chambers to prepare his necessary equipment for the journey. He too was curious to find out just how captivating this woman really was.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

The young girl sighed softly as she looked at all the smoke coming out from the temple, the light scent of incense could be made out from her bedroom window. She was well aware and against what was going on in there. It was utterly disrespectful of her father to allow them and even encourage his citizens to offer sacrifices to her in Aphrodite's sacred temple, and on her very own yearly celebration. Had they no fear of a wrath from the gods?

She simply looked away and went to her own little corner where she made a small shrine dedicated to the goddess of beauty, love and fertility. She admired the small marble figurine of the goddess herself, and straightened out the roses and pearls surrounding it. She lit fire to a few myrtles and let them burn in a small ash tray as she murmured one of the many hymns in devotion to the deity. If she wasn't so soft hearted, she would have finished it off with sacrificing one of the best doves that were kept in the stables, but she could never bring herself to do that. She hoped the goddess would understand and forgive her, or at least, try to appease her for all the foolishness her father was causing.

She straightened her nightgown and crawled under the blankets of her grand bed. She was exhausted from the day's festivities and from the guilt and fear eating her alive. She shut her eyes, secretly hoping it was nothing but a bad dream and when she awoke, everything would be fine and back to the ways it was meant to be. She soon was fast asleep, only movements coming out of her body were the rising of her chest, signaling her breathing.

A soft thud landed on her balcony. The being looked behind him, making sure nobody had seen him. Not that it mattered, even if they did, they would tremble away in fear. Pushing the window open, he let himself inside the girl's bedroom, the one they reverenced as Psyche. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the bed which he cautiously approached. His hand reached out to pull away at the drapes covering the sleeping figure.

"Let's see who is it that is said to rival Aphrodite."

Eros pulled the drape away, letting the moonlight behind him shine on the face of the occupant on the bed. His arm fell to his side, slapping slightly against his thigh as he took in the beautiful countenance of the woman sleeping peacefully in front of him. He blinked slowly, trying to decipher if what he was seeing was indeed real. She was absolutely breathtaking, almost ethereal, never had his sight been blessed by such radiant and magnificent beauty, and he'd spent some time around Poseidon's Nereids.

Without realizing it, his hand reached out to caress her face or simply push back a lock of her hair, he himself didn't know what he was doing. But a small shifting of position on her part made him retract his hand, elbow grazing on the leather of the pouch on his back.

That's right. He still had a mission to carry out.

His arm reached back and grabbed an arrow from the pouch. He then proceeded to hover his hand above the tip, humming the soft incantation that would allow him to pierce the girl's heart and render her insane for the first object she saw. As he chanted, she began to stir in her sleep, putting Eros on guard, hoping she wouldn't wake up. He took in how her once peaceful expression, showed now sorrow and pain. It somehow pained him to see such a beautiful girl seem so troubled. He was so lost in her gaze that he didn't realise it until it was too late...

Until he felt the sharp tip of the arrow prick into his palm, even piercing the skin. Eros widened his eyes as he quickly yanked the arrow out, flinging it across the room. He looked at his hand, no blood coming out because he was an immortal, but he still clutched it as he felt an overwhelming pain and flutter course through his entire body. His heart started to pump at a faster pace, and his breathing became heavier. He tried to look away, but his mind forced him to look back at the unsuspecting girl on the bed.

"Oh no......what have I done?" He whispered softly.

Feeling dizzy, he scurried out the window, not caring anymore about being seeing in the dark of night, he just knew he wanted to back in Olympus as soon as possible. He flew back into the heavens, discarding only a few white feathers on his desperate flight back.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Psyche stood in front of the mirror, trying not to gaze at her own reflection, which she thought of as more of a curse than a blessing. She simply let her maids comb and adorn her hair as they wished and wrap a golden belt around her lilac colored tunic.

"My lady would you like breakfast brought to you or would you prefer to go down to the dining room?" One of them inquired.

She shook her head.

"I won't be taking breakfast today thank you."

The maids exchanged a puzzled look between each other but decided not to pry any longer. They simple allowed their mistress to wander off to the castle's pavilion located in the center of the gardens.

She preferred being alone these days, avoiding as many people as possible, but especially her father. Lately he had been rambling and complaining non stop at the lack of suitors coming to propose marriage to her. It'd been almost a year since he put out the announcement that she was of age and ready to be betrothed to any suitable prince or monarch, he had even raised the dowry triple what it was originally worth, but still, no one had come to claim her or propose.

"Perhaps it's just as well." She thought to herself. It wouldn't surprise her if this was how Aphrodite was showing her anger, by making her face the humiliation of being unwedded and childless.

Perhaps the biggest thing bothering her was the fact men just came to admire her beauty, but seemed to never really fall in love with her, and she herself couldn't fall in love either. Was she just a pretty face for people to gawk and fawn over? Was she destined to feel lonely and empty for the rest of her life?

"Little Psyche out here all alone?"

She stiffened when she heard the voice of her eldest sister, Amara, from behind her. Small steps let her know she was entering the pavilion and soon enough, she felt her presence stand right next to her.

"I wanted to be alone. That's all." She explained, although she really didn't feel the need to.

Her sister hummed softly.

"Would one really think that to be such a good idea? Father would be concerned if anything happened to his precious and beautiful Psyche, especially after that incident of the arrow in your room."

She was getting irritated at this point, her hand gripping harshly at the side of her tunic, creasing it slightly.

"That was many months ago Amara.....and I've said before that I don't like the title given to me by my father and the people....."

She took a deep breath before stating firmly:

"My name is Y/N and I shall be referred as such."

Her sister was taken aback by her sharp tone, but paid no attention to it. She opted for plucking some of the little violets that surrounded one of the pillars.

"As you wish....after all, anything you say is practically law. Anything you desire, you'll get." Her voice was laced with envy.

Y/N shook her head.

"Not everything."

Although she was referring to the fact her father refused to listen to her in the matter of Aphrodite's temple, her sister wrongly thought she meant the matter of matrimony.

"Oh don't worry little sister. Father is to go visit the Oracle of Delphi to seek help from Apollo in regards to your.......shameful circumstances."

Y/N couldn't stand it anymore. It's not that she hated her sister, but lately she seemed to enjoy in taking delight of her misery and pain, hurting her with her mock pity and double sided remarks.

"If you'll excuse me Amara, I shall go back inside."

Y/N was barely 4 feet away when her sister dismissed her.

"See you later......Psyche."

Y/N refused to eat during the entire day, worrying her loyal and trustworthy maids.

"But Miss....you must eat at least a little. Whatever shall you do if your beauty fades away?"

'Then I shall be content.'

She only thought those words but didn't say them out loud. She felt bad about her maids attending to her with such tenderness that she forced herself to at least eat some of the grapes in front of her. It seemed to put her maids more at ease and Y/N was happy about it.

"Anything in particular you wish for us to do Miss?"

There was one thing she really wanted. Something everyone around her never seemed to do anymore.

"Could you......could you please call me Y/N?"

The two women looked back and forth at each other, unsure of whether to refer to the princess in such an informal way.

"Please?"

Y/N was just craving to be reminded of who she truly was, be assured about her existence and her true person. Both women smiled fondly at her before curtsying to her.

"Lady Y/N."

She felt her heart full with warmth and felt happier in that moment than she had felt in the last 8 months that had gone by. But that happiness was short lived when her door swung open, her other sister, Melia rushing in, looking out of sorts and with fear in her eyes.

"Melia? What's wrong?"

Y/N stood up, but it was her sister who clutched onto her and sobbed on her neck.

"Oh poor Psyche! Why must this have happened to you? To my dear little sister?"

Y/N didn't know what to make of this, but it must be something dreadful if her usually composed and quiet sibling was hysteric. She pulled her back to take in her countenance.

"Tell me. What is it?" Y/N pleaded.

Melia pursed her lips before recounting what she heard and witnessed.

"Father came back from meeting with Apollo's Oracle......and Psyche, it's dreadful!"

Y/N gulped slightly. Although she was expecting the answer to not be a favorable one, she was not expecting this outburst.

"Tell me Mel.......am I not to get married ever?"

Y/N braced herself for the negative response.

Melia shook her head though.

"No Psyche.....it's much much worse than that."

Y/N felt her heart drop at that. What could there possibly be that was worse than not getting married?

"The Oracle told father that your husband has already been chosen for you. He gave us instructions that we are to deliver you to the top of Mount Lycabettus, dressed in black and to leave you there...."

She sniffled and held her handkerchief to her mouth.

"Will my husband meet us there?" She questioned.

Melia shook her head no.

"Well- then how can we be married?" She was beyond puzzled at this point.

"We don't know Psyche, the Oracle only said to deliver you. One thing is sure Psyche. Your husband is not mortal."

Y/N would have rejoiced at the information would it not have been for the terror in her sister's eyes.

"Melia tell me.....who exactly is my husband?"

Melia seemed troubled to reveal more information to her, but she knew she had to say it.

"We don't know. He refused to tell father. All he mentioned was that he flies through the skies and even the gods are terrified of him.....

"Psyche....I fear you're destined to marry a monster..."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

The girl watched as her parents, sisters and their husbands disappeared from sight, not even leaving behind their footprints to keep her company. Crouching down, she settled herself onto the ground, her arms wrapping around to hug her knees. She sighed in despair as she thought about what was going to happen to her now. Was her new husband really a monster? It seemed to be the only logical explanation if even gods were afraid of him. The only thing she could think of was....

A titan?

'No it can't be.'

She quickly discarded that thought. All of the titans were locked away in Tartarus. And the world would have definitely known if a titan had gotten out.

She anxiously waited for a sign, a movement of some kind, but nothing ever came. All she had to accompany her besides her solitude was the light breeze that blew some of her hair in front of her face. She shivered slightly, her arms crossing over her chest as she rubbed them with her hands. She faintly noticed that the wind seemed to be getting a little more heavier, and it seemed as though fog started to appear around her. But Y/N couldn't really pay attention to it as she felt herself getting drowsy and tired. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the feeling was overtaking her. Her eyes ended up closing as she fell back onto the moss underneath her, falling fast asleep without even knowing why.

While asleep, she felt a strange sensation of being lifted up and carried up into the sky, almost as if though she were flying.....but that was surely impossible? But it felt so real. She had a fantastical dream of flying above the peak of mountains, drift through the clouds in the sky and somehow even be close to the stars. She felt as if she were being carried in the arms of some strong entity. And at the end, she could faintly hear a voice assure her:

"Have no fear little one, for you are truly loved."

Awakening hours later, when it was even darker and more deep into the night than before, she sat up and looked around at her surroundings. The green moss from before was no longer accompanying her. Instead, she awoke to find herself placed on an ivory marble resting bench. Beautiful varieties of roses surrounded what she guessed to be a very beautiful and luxurious garden. Her hand reached out to caress one of them, its petals being one of the most soft things she'd ever felt.

Standing up, she followed the stone path that was right in front of her. A tiny river flowed through the garden, a slight trickling sound was the only noise that was heard. She stopped when a grand and extravagant mansion stood before her. It was 10 times more beautiful and seemed more expensive than the very castle she grew up in. Cautiously, she over to the front door, which seemed to be made out of pure gold, pearls adorning the edges of them.

Y/N was about to knock on it, but to her surprise, the doors opened by themselves. She slowly stepped inside, her eyes bulging out as her eyes took in the hall in front of her. Clean and neatly polished marble floor, crimson red silk drapes covering large and vast windows, the furniture looked unlike anything she had ever seen before. Her hand was gliding over the ottoman in the center of it when a voice called out:

"Welcome mistress! We have been expecting you!"

She whipped her head around, then looked at all directions, but found no one standing anywhere near her.

"Who...who are you?" Y/N fearfully looked at the ceiling then at every corner, wondering where the voice was.

"We're your servants mistress." A chorus of at least 5 women rang out, puzzling her even more.

"Where....are you?"

The invisible women giggled amongst themselves.

"We are right here next to you mistress. I'm afraid you just can't see us."

Y/N watched as a silver pitcher was lifted up in the air, pouring what seemed to be wine in a glass cup, which was then hovered right in front of her.

"Wine mistress?"

Y/N hesitantly took the cup, indeed feeling someone's weight let go of it. She took a small sip of the wine, its rich and crisp flavor enticing her to drink more of it.

"Would you care for any fruits?" A platter holding strawberries, grapes, cherries and blueberries were held up in front of her. They looked so fresh and ripe, Y/N couldn't help but reach for one of the grapes, her tastebuds becoming completely engaged at how delicious and juicy they were.

She no longer felt disturbed by the faceless voices talking to her, nor about the objects floating around, carrying articles that were being offered to her, and she did not get startled when she heard music filling the room, playing the most sweet and beautiful melody her ears were blessed to hear. She just let her invisible attendants feed her some exotic foods that she never even knew existed. She also didn't mind them guiding her to a lavatory, where there was a bathtub, the size of a large pond already waiting for her. She nearly slipped into another deep sleep when she stepped inside, the warm water relaxing her muscles while the scent of lavender calmed and eased her mind. After washing her body, her maids oiled and scented her body with vanilla and jasmine while they dried her. She saw as a periwinkle blue robe was extended towards her and Y/N slipped into it, her hands caressing the soft, velvet material, smoothing the folds on her waist and hips.

"Oh mistress! You look so beautiful!" One of them cheerfully exclaimed.

"You're the most beautiful creature we've been honored to serve." Another piped in.

"We're so happy to have you here with us. It shall be a lot more livelier now." She heard someone chuckle.

"I think our job for tonight is done. My lady, please step into the room behind the other door. The master will join you shortly."

Y/N was so filled with bliss and contentment, that she had completely forgotten why she was here in the first place. Recalling her sister words, she begged her maids not to leave her, but they apologized and retreated to who knows where, leaving her by herself once again. Her hand reached for the doorknob, turning it slowly before she stepped into the next room.

Y/N tried to move around in the space, but it was extremely difficult because the room was pitch black. She could barely make out the outlines of the chairs, the bed draped with curtains or the dressers. On the corner, she saw a single window, but the curtains were drawn, and even if it was open, the dark night would hardly help her see any better. Y/N out stretched her arms, grabbing onto the empty void around her to maneuver herself to the bed, where she settled down into, hugging her knees like she did back when her family left her on top of the mountain.

She rocked herself back and forth as many thoughts ran over her mind:

'When will he arrive? Will he be kind or not? What will he look like....

And who was he?'

Y/N rested her hands on her arms that were hugging her knees, her eyes closing, but she wasn't tired at all. She just wished time would speed up faster and someone could explain to her what was going on. She felt a light breeze suddenly pass through the room. Looking up, she saw that the curtains by the window had been moved, pushed slightly open, letting just the dimmest sliver of light pour in, but she still couldn't see anything.

She felt something .....someone else in the room with her. On edge, she quickly sat up from the bed and tried to make way back to the other room.

"You have nothing to fear my dearest Y/N."

She halted at the sound of her name. She was expecting to be called that odious title she was often referred to, but instead, she heard her very own name.

"How....how do you know my name?"

The deep, baritone voice spoke again.

"It wouldn't be fitting for a husband to not know his own wife's name, don't you think?"

Y/N eased slightly at his words but still felt nervous.

"Where...are you?" She took small steps, eyes squinting to see something, anything.

She felt a rush of warmth fill up her body when a gentle hand placed itself on her shoulder.

"I'm right here beside you, where I shall always be."

She didn't tremble at his touch, on the contrary, she relaxed and her fear was suddenly gone. Whoever the stranger was, he slowly turned her around to face him. She could make out a bit of his outline, but still couldn't define any of his features or details.

"Why aren't there any lamps? I can't see you."

Lifting her hand, he placed it on his cheek, his skin feeling as soft as a petal.

"See me with your touch my love."

Her hand delicately traced his features, trying to imagine what he looked like. He had a very sharp jawline, a well defined nose and delicately carved lips that tempted her to reach up and kiss them. She was still confused as to why she couldn't see him though. As if on cue, he spoke:

"I know it must be difficult for you to understand this Y/N. But please don't be afraid of me. I would never hurt you."

Y/N retracted her hand.

"My...my sister said you're a monster."

He chuckled heartedly, his voice full of music and splendor.

"Do I feel like a monster or sound like one?"

Y/N giggled softly, realizing it did seem silly.

"If you're not a monster though......why can't I see you?"

She could feel the man in front of her think about how to answer her. Sighing softly, he took her hand again, holding it with his two hands and running a thumb on the top of it.

"I'm afraid I can't give you the answer to that question yet...."

She felt her heart sink at his words. She lowered her head in disappointment. Not wanting to upset her more, he kissed the palm of her hand and swore:

"Just please trust me Y/N, and I'll promise to love you forever......can you trust me?"

Maybe she was mad or delusional, but in spite of all the mystery surrounding him, she sincerely felt the veracity of his promise and had no doubt in her mind about trusting him. She moved closer to him, accidentally stepping too far and colliding with his firm chest.

"Umph!" Y/N groaned slightly.

He giggled softly at her cute action. He saw as she tried to reach out again to feel him, but instead pulled her hand away.

"You can touch me love."

Her hands once again traced his smooth face, traveling down his neck before resting on his broad shoulders. Although he felt somewhat slim, his body seemed very toned and vigorous. Y/N wanted to drop her hands further but she felt to shy to do it. Once again, he read her mind.

"Y/N....it's ok. We're married." He drew out that last word, more to himself than to her.

Her hands pressed down across his chest. She could tell his tunic was made out of fine linen, even if she couldn't see it. His chest felt strong and sturdy, she bit her lip slightly as she pictured what it would look like in the light, without his garment.

She gasped when she felt him pull her against him, his breath against her lips, just wanting to close the space between them and kiss her. His finger traced the curve of her luscious and plump lips. Although she was content with everything he'd said so far, there was just one more question she had:

"I....... I don't know what to call you."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean....you know my name....but you never told me yours." She pulled away slightly.

He realized she was right. She felt him smile at her as he brought her face close to his again.

"Please call me Yeosang." Her heart fluttered when she heard his name.

Yeosang brushed his lips against hers.

"Trust me my dear. I love you with all my heart."

Y/N melted at his words and before she knew it, she whispered back:

"I love you too....Yeosang."

As soon as she spoke out those words, Yeosang could no longer control himself as he enclosed his lips over hers in a passionate and loving kiss. Y/N blushed at being kissed for the first time in her life, but happily returned the gesture, surprised that she easily could. Even though she couldn't see him, she knew Yeosang was beautiful, ethereal and very kind...

And she was already falling in love with him.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

It had been roughly 4 months into their marriage and Y/N was extremely happy. He'd visit her in the dead of night everyday, as usual, in the pitch black so she couldn't see him, but she had grown accustomed to that. He'd usually leave before she was even awake and before the sun would even start coming out. He'd always leave a red rose by her dresser everyday, attached with a small note filled with terms of endearment and vows of love and adoration for her, always succeeding in making her blush.

Y/N was more than content. Now, whenever she looked in the mirror, she wouldn't turn away nor hate the face she saw. She came to love her appearance now, because there was light and love in it. She was in love, she was loved and there was no greater feeling than that.

During the day, she would either spend time outside in the garden or inside, her maids, or rather, their presence, always keeping her company. She loved listening to their stories about the world she was now a part of, finding them extremely fascinating. They were all so gentle and caring towards her, attending to her every needs and overall staying by her side so she wouldn't get lonely.

"Won't you tell us something about where you are from for once Mistress?"

Y/N was elated, happily telling them all about her home, her family, how she grew up and various other aspects of her life.

"You seem very close to your family Misstress." One of them observed.

"I am. I love them very much, and I have such fondness for my sisters...."

She stopped at the moment. It hit her how she hadn't heard from her family since she got there, nor did they have any idea of her whereabouts or her fate. Her heart suddenly felt sad as she began missing them terribly.

"Mistress is something wrong?"

Y/N quickly plastered a smile back on her face, not wanting them to be concerned at all. Instead suggesting they all play a game together so she wouldn't think about it. But it was futile. Her mind kept thinking back to her family. She missed them more and more. She hardly ate anything else for the rest of the day, instead opting to go to her room rather early, even though it'd be hours before Yeosang got there. She wept silently, her tears staining the pillow underneath her face. She tried to keep a positive and cheerful attitude when he did finally got there, but he could sense that something was troubling his beloved wife.

"What's bothering you my love?"

Y/N sighed softly.

"I miss my family...."

Yeosang tightened his embrace around her, his lips kissing her temple. Y/N nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, drinking in his scent that always calmed and soothed her mind.

"They must be so worried about me. They probably don't even know if I'm alive or not." She continued to pour out her distress.

Yeosang was pensive for a moment, wondering what he could do to help his sweetheart.

"Would you like to write to them? I can have someone give it to them." He offered.

Although Y/N found it kind of him to offer it, more than anything, she wanted to see them.

"I was actually wondering......if maybe they could come see me?" She reluctantly asked.

She very well noticed how Yeosang tensed up. Even in the darkness, she had learned to read his body language and knew he was hesitating about what to respond.

"I......I'm not sure that's a good idea love..."

Yeosang's heart felt when he heard a disappointed sigh escape her lips. It hurt her to see her in such a state. All he wanted was to make her happy. So although there were going to be risks, he agreed.

"They can't meet me. But if you wish, I can have Zephyr bring them here just like he brought you."

Y/N became so happy at the thought of seeing them again. Cupping Yeosang's face, she kissed him fervently, her reaction making Yeosang chuckle.

"Does it really make you that happy?" He questioned as he caressed her face.

Y/N nodded happily.

"So I take it you won't need anything else tonight?"

Well....there was actually one more thing. Y/N bit her lip as she stared up at Yeosang with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Oh.....I see."

Y/N could hear the smugness in his voice, but she didn't care. Not when he lips made her melt, when his hands caressed and fondled her tenderly and especially not when he slid in and out of her in such a passionate and loving way, bringing her into such a euphoric state. Another thing she discovered about Yeosang: he was an amazing lover, she almost felt drunk in his love whenever his body became one with hers.

Yeosang let out a grunt when he spilled himself inside of her, enjoying the feeling of her walls tightening around him as she also reached her own high. Without pulling out, Yeosang bent down to kiss her again, his hand reaching down to press against her stomach.

"I can't wait until you become pregnant with my child. I bet you'll look even more lovely than what you already are."

Y/N felt her face flush at his words. Suddenly feeling confident, she teased him.

"How about we try again? Just in case."

Yeosang sucked in a breath, his hands gripping at her hips.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Y/N's hands clutched at the sheets underneath her, moans slipping out of her lips as Yeosang moved inside of her once again, this time at a more fast and rough pace than before.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N offered more pastries to her sisters. Melia excitedly accepted them, loving how rich and exquisite the foods at her little sister's place were. Amara however refused, her eyes still looking around at the place. She was very put off by how strange Y/N's circumstances were. The weird wind that transported them there, the invisible servants, the fact they could not meet her husband? It was extremely confusing. But most of all, she was insanely jealous of how Y/N was living. Her mansion was 10 times better than hers, the food was of better quality than what was served at her castle and everything was just so much more expensive.

"You seem to be...very happy here." Amara pointed out, her lips pursed tightly.

Y/N couldn't help but smile.

"I'm more than happy. I love it here. And I love my husband."

"Such a shame we couldn't meet him. Do you know when we will get the opportunity?" Melia asked.

"Oh...umm.....the thing is...you can't meet him..." Y/N fumbled with the sash across her dress.

Her two older sisters looked at her incredulously, then they looked at each other with a suspicious look.

"So is it true then? That he's a monster with scaly skin, serpent tongue and sharp teeth?" Melia looked frightened.

Y/N slammed her fist on the table, outraged that they'd dare think such things of Yeosang like that.

"He's not a monster! He's beautiful, absolutely handsome and the most kind being I have ever met!"

Her outburst made them even more curious.

"Then tell me Psyche, what does he look like?" Amara raised an eyebrow.

"It's Y/N! My name is Y/N. And.....I......I don't know! But I just know he's beautiful!"

Melia seemed puzzled.

"You don't know? What does that mean?"

Feeling cornered, Y/N had no choice but to tell them how her husband would only visit her at night, shrouded in darkness and whisper loving words in her ear. That only served to sprout out more questions from her siblings.

"How can you possibly be in love with him if you've never seen him?"

"I just am!" Y/N exclaimed.

"If he doesn't see you during the day, where does he go to?" Amara pressed on.

"I don't know." Y/N answered.

Not wanting to miss the chance to hurt her younger sister, Amara smirked wickedly at her.

"I bet I know where."

It took Y/N a few seconds to comprehend what her sister was implying, but when she did, it only served to further anger her.

" You're wrong. I know What you're thinking and you're wrong. Yeosang loves me!" She was fuming at this point.

Amara however rolled her eyes at her foolishness.

"All right. Let's say he really is as handsome as you say he is. Why must he be so stubborn about not letting you see him nor know where he goes off to?"

Y/ N crossed her arms.

"I don't know. He asked me to trust him and I do".

Melia now seemed concerned for her.

"Psyche... do you not realize that maybe ...... he could be seeing other women while he's away?"

Y/N now froze at what her sister said. Her brain kept telling her not to listen to them, that Yeosang was faithful to her and would never lie to her. But then she remembered how her own sister's husbands behaved and she couldn't help but think if perhaps Yeosang would do anything similar like them.

"No..... it can't be true...."

Amara suspiciously came up behind Y/N, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"If he really did love you.....why would he force you to live with such doubts?"

That was the final drop that made the glass tip over. Y/N had to find out who exactly it was that was sleeping with her every night.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N waited until Yeosang was fast asleep, his breathing calm and serene. Carefully, she peeled herself from his grasp and crept out of the bed and to one of the dressers. She silently took out a candle and match that she had secretly hid inside. Walking as cautiously as she could, she stood by the edge of the bed where Yeosang was. Taking a deep breath, she striked the match and lit up the candle, holding it up so she could finally see him for the very first time.

Her eyes grew wide as she stared into the most beautiful face she had ever seen. He was absolutely glorious. His hair was white like the snow in winter, skin fair like marble ivory, his jawline was chiseled to perfection with a nose that seemed to have been carved to perfection. And he layed there, sleeping soundly with absolutely no clue that she had just betrayed his trust.

"Oh no.....what have I done?"

Y/N was so horrified with herself that she unconsciously tumbled backwards, hitting herself on a piece of furniture. Suddenly Yeosang awoke, his eyes painted with agony once he realized what was happening.

"I.....I can explain!"

But Yeosang simply sat up without a word, already reaching for his tunic. He sighed as he stood up and walked towards the window.

"Please forgive me Yeosang! I beg you!"

Y/N dropped to her knees, tears pouring out her eyes. Yeosang pinched the bridge of his nose, head full of turbulent thoughts that he couldn't place in order.

"Please just say something!" She cried out, desperate to hear his voice.

"I knew it would be a bad idea to let you see your sisters. I knew they'd turn you against me and actually betray me...."

If they were still in the dark, Y/N would have still been able to recognize the hurt and pain in his words.

"I'm sorry Yeosang! I'm sorry for not trusting you! But I kept thinking about their words, they said you were probably visiting other-"

"You could have chosen to not listen to them! No one forced you to believe them! You chose to act on your own accord!".

It was the first time he had ever raised his voice at her, and it boomed all over the room, making her tremble in fear. Yeosang opened the window and stepped out into the balcony.

"No no! Please!"

Y/N ran after him, her hands wrapping around his neck in an attempt to keep him there. Gently, he pried her hands off him, looking somberly at her.

"My mother told me not to trust you. That you were a mortal woman and would never understand me or us, and break my trust. I could never believe that she was right....."

Y/N saw as tears filled on the brim of his eyes.

"But I was too madly in love to listen to her..... I guess I truly did get a taste of my own medicine."

Yeosang made way to leave again, but Y/N held onto him.

"Please don't leave me! I'll die without you! I love you Yeosang!"

Not able to contain his feelings anymore, Yeosang pushed her off him and turned sternly to her.

"Don't.....ever say such lies again...and don't address me so informally you lowly mortal. I am not your equal and I am no longer Yeosang to you..."

Y/N covered her mouth in terror and astonishment when ethereal and shiny wings sprouted from his back, making him look even more heavenly than he already was.

"I am Eros, son of Aphrodite and Ares, the god of love ......... and you......."

He sniffled as tears streamed down his face.

"I can't stay here knowing that I want to hold you..."

Without any other word, speedily flew out of there, disappearing from her sight. Y/N shouted for him, going mad at the thought that she had just lost the love of her life. She was so erratic that she didn't think twice before she flung herself down the balcony, not wanting to live without her love. Unfortunately for her, a large gust of wind stopped her fall, placing her gently on the ground, thwarting her plan.

"Let me die!" Y/N pounded the ground.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Psyche. Aside from being tasked to bring you here, Eros appointed me to make sure no harm should ever come to you."

Although it was supposed to be calming, Zephyr's voice only angered her.

"So I can't even die?!"

Zephyr sent a small breeze, the only physical way of comfort he could bring her since he was invisible.

"Psyche, we both know you don't actually want to die."

"Yes I do! My heart is broken. My love is gone and it's because of my foolishness. I have nothing else to live for!" She declared.

Zephyr sighed.

"My lady....all hope is not lost. I may perhaps.....know a way of helping you."

Y/N perked her ears at his words.

"But first, allow me to tell you a little story, one you don't know about but in which you were the main protagonist."

Y/N watched as a swirl of clouds formed above her, Zephyr trying to make his presence manifested as he began recounting a story:

"Now...it all began when the people began to worship you instead of Aphrodite. I know, we all do you tried to stop them. We weren't blind to it. But Aphrodite is a jealous goddess. She could not stand someone being compared to her. So she sent Eros to you with the task of making you fall in love with a toad or something similar."

Y/N didn't seem too surprised by that. She knew fully well who Eros was and why he was feared even among gods, because no one was immune to his arrows that made them fall in love.

"He came to you one night while you were sleeping. He was so distracted by your beauty that he ended up pricking himself with his own arrow."

Now it made sense to her what he meant when he said he had gotten a dose of his own medicine. She was shocked that this actually happened.

"Eros had fallen in love with you. Curious isn't it, that while you were the most admired woman in the country, no one proposed. Wanna know why? Because Eros stepped in every time, making any suitor fall in love with someone else so they wouldn't take you away from him."

Y/N remembered all those months where no one approached her. Now it all made sense.

"Poor Eros was also begging his mother to let him marry you. But of course, being as stubborn as she is, Aphrodite refused. It became such a quarrel between them that Eros refused to obey her anymore if she didn't agree. Of course, she couldn't have that, so she allowed him to marry you on one condition: your love had to be put to a test....which....I think you know what it was."

Y/N nodded. He asked her to trust him even if she couldn't see him, but she betrayed him.

"Aphrodite probably isn't surprised. She expected it all along. But Eros......he was so in love with you that he put all his faith and trust in your love. And now.....he's probably back home again, moaning and crying just like when he came back that night he met you."

Now the guilt began to eat her up.

"I don't deserve him. I never did. I deserve to die."

Zephyr sighed once again.

"Now now child. As I said. Not all hope is lost. Listen very carefully to me Psyche. Here's what you're going to do."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N waited for the goddess to arrive. Her fingers fidgeted nervously, playing with the belt on her tunic. She suddenly felt a gush of wind pass by her. Light started to emanate from the ground. Y/N stared in wonder as a powerful entity appeared before her, looking so radiant and angelic that Y/N froze in place before remembering who was standing in front of her. She fell to the ground in honor and respect for the goddess in front of her.

"My goddess Aphrodite. I am your humble servant who has offered sacrifices at your temple and-"

"Oh stop groveling like a little bitch and get up." The goddess sneered at her.

Y/N slowly got up. Aphrodite stepped closer to her, one of her slender fingers tilting her chin up as she closely scanned her rival's face. Bewilderment took over her features, a scoff coming out of her mouth.

"Impressive. Very extraordinary. ..."

She let go of her and backed away.

"Pity though that your eyes are still red and puffy from weeping like a child. It really does not suit you....nevertheless, even I acknowledge you're beautiful and pleasing...."

She crossed her arms.

"No wonder my son is so smitten with you."

Y/N glanced up at the mention of Yeosang.

"Tell me, how is Yeosang? How is my husband."

Aphrodite lifted a hand.

"First of all, you have no right to call him by his birth name. You shall only address him by his godly name you mortals know. And second, he isn't your husband anymore, not after you broke your end of the marriage."

Being reminded of her acts, Y/N once again felt remorseful and ashamed. But she was not about to give up.

"If there's anything I can do to mend things, I'm prepared to do it."

Aphrodite rolled her eyes.

"Yes yes I know very well you are willing to. Zephyr didn't bring you here just for giggles or a cup of tea. And either way, sooner or later Zeus and Hera would have been on my ass about intervening, not to mention that his father wouldn't leave me alone if he saw the state his son was in."

Y/N beamed with joy at the thought of being able to mend things with her love.

"Thank you oh most merciful goddess!" Y/N resisted the urge to throw her hands around the goddess and hug her.

Aphrodite, however, dismissed her thanks.

"Don't get so happy yet foolish girl. I haven't even told you what the tasks are yet."

Beckoning her to follow, Aphrodite lead her through a meadow and deep into a forest. There, she approached a tall laurel tree and pointed at something on the floor.

"Before your eyes, you see a pile of different types of grains. Your job is simple: separate them all and arrange them into piles."

Y/N's jaw dropped at the task.

"That's impossible! It's not simple!"

Aphrodite merely shrugged. "If you truly love Eros, you'll find a way."

She turned away and began walking back to where she came from, but not before telling her:

"Oh and Psyche? You have until sundown to finish."

Y/N knew the goddess was probably laughing by now, already gloating in her failure and inability to finish such a task. She slumped down on the ground and began picking at the grains. They all looked too similar, there was no way to tell them apart. Y/N flung the grains back in the pile.

"It's hopeless..."

She wasn't offered a second chance, she was merely being humiliated for the own amusement of Aphrodite. Y/N couldn't help but wonder if she deserved this....

Suddenly she felt something crawl up on her hand. Looking down, she saw a tiny ant perched on one of her fingers.

"Hello most beautiful mortal. Please don't cry. Let me assure you that this grain will be sorted before Aphrodite comes back."

If Y/N hadn't already seen so miracles and fantasy sightings since she arrived, she would have seriously thought she was insane for thinking an ant was actually talking to her. She watched as thousands of other ants crawled up and began carrying the grains out of the pile, effectively assorting them into neat and tidy piles.

"How are you..?"

The tiny ant let out a squeaky laugh. "This is our specialty my lady. We do this every year."

"But...why are you helping me?" She couldn't understand why they would help her.

"Don't fret about that right now. Leave this all to us and just worry about being reunited with your loved one."

Y/N was touched by their tremendous kindness, thanking them incessantly as they eagerly finished what seemed to not an impossible task for her. True to their word, before the sun set, it was already finished. 5 piles stood in front of her. The ants bid her farewell and good luck for any upcoming tests Aphrodite was going to put on her.

When the goddess came to inspect the work, her eyes nearly bulged out when she saw it was accomplished. Scoffing, she crossed her arms.

"I see you finished it....very well. Tomorrow I shall take you to do the second task. But trust me, you won't get very far."

The goddess was so sure Y/N would never be able to finish them, but she didn't count on the fact someone was pulling strings behind the scenes to make sure Y/N would be successful. When Y/N was tasked to collect the gold fleece from the magical sun rams, the mystery person asked the reeds growing on the riverbank near her, to tell Y/N to wait until the rams left the pasture to fall asleep in a meadow, then she'd be able to collect fleece that would usually get caught on the brambles where they often played or fought in. On her third task, she had to collect water from a pit that was guarded by a fearsome dragon. Y/N dared not approach the beast, but once again, the hidden figure sent an enormous eagle to help her by flying her down the pit while the dragon slept so she could fill up the bottle Aphrodite gave her. Y/N asked the eagle, like she did the reeds and ants, why were they helping her, but all of them remained silent, not answering her question. They only wished her luck and encouraged her to stay determined to win back her husband.

Aphrodite took the bottle in her hands, fury in her eyes as she flung it across the room in pure outrage.

"I don't know what kind of tricks you've pulled to accomplish these tasks so easily, but I will not stand for it any longer!"

Determined to make sure Y/N would never see her son no matter the cost, she declared her last mission:

"You must go into the Underworld and bring me Queen Persephone's beauty cream, the one she makes herself. I was going to go there myself....but you can do it for me."

Aphrodite's eyes did not hide her malice or her hatred towards the poor girl.

"But....no human can descend into the Underworld and return!" Y/N exclaimed.

"Then I guess you shall have to be the first."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N touched the ground softly as Zephyr dropped her down.

"Psyche listen to me very carefully. There is a way for mortals to go into the Underworld and return alive. But pay very close attention or you'll never see the light of day."

Out of thing air, Zephyr made 2 coins and a loaf of bread apart before her.

"The coins are for Charon. He's the boatman that will take you to the Underworld and will also bring you back. The bread is for Cerberus."

Y/N gulped at the mention of the dog that guarded the gates of the Underworld.

"You mean.....the one with 50 heads?"

Zephyr laughed.

"You humans sure do like to add charm to stories. No Psyche. Cerberus only has 3 heads. He won't do anything to you while going in, it's when you're getting out that'll be the problem. You see, he's not guarding souls from going in, he guards them from leaving."

Y/N nodded, drinking up all the information he was feeding to her.

"When you're leaving, give a piece to each of the heads, it'll put him to sleep long enough for you to get out of there as fast as you can."

"Got it."

Y/N began walking into the foggy mist, trembling slightly as she realized she was about to be in front of the gates of hell very soon.

"Another thing! Accept no food or drink and do not rest at all! Just go in, take the cream and get out. I'll be waiting here for you."

"Thank you Zephyr."

Y/N wandered through the dense and humid mist that blurred most of her vision. She spotted a light looming out of the water and headed towards it. She stopped when she reached the end of the dock and stood face to face with a dark cloaked figure. Its face was completely hidden by the hood, the only thing she could see were its hands that were holding a staff that was no doubt used to row out boat.

"Are you.....are you Charon?"

The cloaked figure simply nodded very slowly.

"Can you take me to see Queen Persephone?"

Charon did not respond either that time, instead he held his hand out. Y/N now could clearly see that his hand was only bone, absolutely no flesh or skin surrounding it. Although startled, she handed one of the coins to him, which he put into a small purse that he kept tied to his waist. He signalled for her to get in. Y/N had some difficulty getting into the boat, slamming down on it, her bum hardly hitting the wood floor. She was sure if Charon was able to, he'd probably be laughing at her. He waited until she was settled into the boat before he began rowing down the Styx river.

Y/N hugged her knees as her eyes scanned everything. So far only the splashing of water and the silent boatman kept her company. And then a foul and putrid stench filled her nostrils, making her want to gag. As she kept looking around, she noticed what seemed to be people standing by another dock, looking pitiful and some even crying.

"They're the souls of people whose families didn't pay the fee or didn't have a burial upon death." Charon spoke up for the first time, his voice sounded hollow and had somewhat of an echo in it.

She understood what he meant. All people usually put a coin under their deceased loved ones tongue as payment for a ride to the Underworld.

"Will they stay there forever?"

Charon let out a raspy breathe.

"They'll stay there for a hundred years before they're allowed to cross over. Our master is not that cruel as you mortals depict him."

Mention of his master sent Y/N into panic. She was about to meet the actual god of the Underworld and his wife. She shivered as she remembered all she was ever taught about him: her teachers often painted him as a cruel, evil and wrathful god that loved tormenting the souls that were sent to him. The only reason he had a wife was because he kidnapped her, only allowing her to spend time in Olympus for half of the year. Y/N feared seeing him.

"This is the end of your journey."

Y/N saw a colossal black door in front of her. She lifted her hand to knock on it, but wondered if it was even possible for them to hear her. She felt someone or something sneeze by her right side so she turned. First there was only a gigantic dog head that soon turned into three, Y/N almost fainted when it began approaching her. This had to be Cerberus. The hellhound merely scanned her, puzzled as to why an alive human would be there. But he went back to his job and used one of his heads to push open the door for her. Y/N was prepared to see a sea of tormented souls being stirred in fire or some other kind of torture, but instead, she walked in a long and regal corridor, much like the one back home in Athens. Everything was decorated in either black or a deep purple color. At the very end, she saw two thrones side by side, black and made out of hard iron and steel. 2 figures sat by them and when she reached close enough, she was face to face with the rulers of the Underworld.

As per custom, Y/N bowed to them, trembling in the process. The monarchs looked at each other in confusion.

"You are not dead nor dying, what business do you have here?" A male voice inquired.

Y/N swallowed harshly, trying to speak but fear made her paralyzed and unable for recall what she was there to do. Noticing how scared she was, the queen stood up and walked over to her. She gently lifted Y/N up, her hand cupping her chin to look at her. Y/N finally had a glimpse of the Underworld queen and she was mesmerized. She wasn't as beautiful as Aphrodite, but her beauty was so haunting and eerie, unlike anything she'd ever seen before. It made her very unique and therefore more interesting in her eyes. Y/N felt self conscious now. She hadn't properly cleaned up or slept ever since Aphrodite had her do all those tasks, so she probably looked like a mess in front of the beautiful queen.

Persephone merely smiled at her, a genuine and kind smile.

"You're Psyche aren't you?"

Her eyes widened at the mention of her name. The man behind her also became curious at him mention of it.

"How do you know who I am?" But Y/N soon wanted to slap herself for asking that. She was a goddess, of course she'd know.

The lady chuckled. "Not everyday one meets a face that rivals Aphrodite's. I've heard so much about you."

She turned back and Y/N assumed she was going to take her place on the throne, but instead, she shocked her when she opted to sit on her husbands lap, her arms wrapping around his neck. He visibly stiffened, and Y/N was surprised to see him......blush?

"So tell me. Has the mighty goddess of beauty sent you here for another task?"

Persephone looked back to see Y/N with a mouth wide open.

"We know all about your endeavors to win your husband back. News reaches here first before it reaches Olympus. Gives a little entertainment to us and our subjects you know."

She waved her hand and instantly a grey and cloudy figure appeared before her, offering her wine or food from a platter. She didn't want to seem rude, but she remembered what Zephyr said and thus refused any of it. Persephone chuckled softly.

"Very smart." Persephone observed. She above anyone knew what eating food from the Underworld would mean.

"So tell me Psyche. What has she sent you here for?"

Y/N began explaining how the goddess wanted some of her beauty cream. Persephone rolled her eyes, knowing all too well how vain Aphrodite was. Her fingers stroked through her husband's hair, puzzling Y/N more. If she was kidnapped and forced to marry him, how could she be so....in love with him? Persephone only took her attention away from her husband when another grey figure brought out a box to her. Thanking the servant, she held out the box to Y/N.

"Take this to Aphrodite and be reunited with your love."

Y/N thanked the merciful queen and walked back, now more happy at the thought of seeing Yeosang again. Persephone watched her with a motherly gaze, feeling somewhat nostalgic.

"You seem to be very interested in that human." Hades' voice broke her trance.

"She's an extraordinary girl if you ask me. And she's doing everything for love."

She smirked as she cupped her husband's face.

"Reminds me of a certain someone who also went to great lengths to win the person he loved the most."

The Underworld God cleared his throat.

"Love makes us do crazy things sometimes." He justified himself.

Persephone nodded and leaned in.

"I know. That's why am going to vouch for her when Zeus holds the meeting."

Hades looked puzzled. "What meeting?"

The queen let out a hearty laugh before kissing his lips.

"Married life has made you lose some of your sharpness my dear lord." She teased.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N successfully fed the bread to the demon hound and made it back across the Styx with Charon's help.

"Thank you Charon." She handed the other coin to him.

"First time anyone has thanked me to the work I do." Although he tried to be neutral about it, Charon's voice had a lighter and more grateful tone to it.

Y/N crossed the swamp again and came back to the meadow where Zephyr had left her. She called me to him, but he did not answer. Y/N sat on the grass and waited for him, growing tired in the process. It had been 4 very long and tiring days and she was beginning to feel the intensity of them. Her eyes began to flutter, trying to stay awake, but tiredness began to overtake her. Her gaze fell on the box she was holding. Feeling curious, she slowly opened the box to peer into its contents. A sudden burst of light shone right in front of her, the power being too much for her and instantly, she fell unconscious on the floor.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Eros sighed softly to himself, the longing for his wife becoming too unbearable.

"Would you please stop that moaning? It's getting on my nerves." His mother said from the doorway.

"I miss her...." He covered his face with the pillow.

Aphrodite scoffed.

"Seriously this lovesick fool."

Eros ignored his mother, all his thoughts were about Y/N and the last time he saw her. He recalled the harsh words he said to her, regretting them so much, each letter feeling like a stab to his heart. Although it hurt him to have her distrust him, it hurt even more to be separated from her. He wanted her back in his arms, he wanted to kiss her, he was going even more insane than the first time when he pricked himself on his arrow.

Suddenly he heard a commotion coming from the living room, with the way a voice roared like thunder, he knew who had just came in. He got up, ready to intervene in case the two individuals in front of him started getting physical. Not noticing him, they just continued their screaming match.

"I've put up with so many of your antics, but this my dear goddess, is low even for you!"

The anger in his father's voice was unmistakable, but it was even more serious than all the other times he'd quarreled with his mother.

"Oh shut up Ares! I did what I had to do for our dear son."

Aphrodite twirled her hair on her finger, batting her eyelashes at her longtime lover, hoping to seduce him and get his mind off the subject, but this time it didn't.

"No, you did this because you're a selfish, conceited and cruel woman! Putting an innocent girl through so many hardships just for your own amusement! Don't you think Psyche and Eros have been through enough already?"

Now it was Eros' turn to make his presence known.

"What about my wife?"

Both of his parents turned to look at him, one in shock at being discovered and one in sad pity for him and his love. Ares crossed his arms.

"Well? Tell him Aphrodite. Tell him all about the tasks you made Psyche do these past days." He challenged her.

Eros looked at his mother, waiting for her to answer, but she kept her lips shut. Getting fed up, Ares spilled everything to him. Eros immediately got worried.

"Where is she now?"

Ares looked to the goddess in front of him as he did not know what the last task was. Gathering some of the rage he inherited from his father, Eros harshly grabbed his mother and shook her.

"Where is my wife?!"

Aphrodite pushed him off her.

"I sent her to the Hades and Persephone."

Eros wasted no time and grabbed his bow and arrow. The Underworld was dangerous even for a God and he knew he had to go get her before anything happened to her.

"Eros! Don't you dare go after her! She isn't your wife anymore!"

Turning back to his mother, he looked at her in defiance.

"She is my wife. She'll always be my wife. I love her.....and I'm going over to her now."

Spreading his wings, he flew as fast as he could to the swampy forest where she had been hours earlier. He asked the boatman if he had seen her, but Charon only said she had completed her voyage and was headed back home. He breathed a sigh of relief, at least she was alive. He flew back to his mansion, bursting the doors open, alarming the servants who were no longer invisible. He didn't spare a glance at them, he simply ran upstairs to his room. Slamming the door open, he saw as Zephyr, now in his physical form was hovering over an unconscious Psyche.

"No..."

Eros ran over to her side, taking her hand in his.

"The power inside the box her majesty gave her is too much for a mortal to bear. I've tried everything, but she still shows no sign of waking up. Her body has also been weak these past days due to exhaustion. ....and heartache." Zephyr said somberly.

Eros spilled tears when finding out all she had been through and how much suffering he had put her through.

"I'm so sorry my darling."

His arms encapsulated her in a tight embrace, almost crushing her from the intensity. Eros sobbed uncontrollably. Zephyr decided to retreat from the room, giving him the space he needed.

Brushing out some of her hair, he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Please don't leave me.." he whispered before pressing his lips against hers.

He heard as she started breathing slowly, pulling away to check on her. Y/N's eyes slowly opened, thinking she was dreaming when she saw her love's handsome face in front of her.

"Yeo- Yeosang?"

His heart started beating faster when he heard her call him by his name.

"Oh Y/N thank Zeus you're all right!"

Y/N held him tightly, not wanting to let go.

"Yeosang I'm so sorry! I should have listened to you but I was so stupid!"

He hushed her, his hands caressing her arms.

"It's ok. I've forgiven you my darling. I don't care anymore. All I want is for us to be together again."

Y/N hesitated.

"Will we be allowed to?"

Clearing his throat, they both turned their attention to Zephyr who came back.

"Even if Aphrodite won't like it, she'll have no choice but to allow you two to be together after a power greater than her allows it."

Yeosang and Y/N looked at him in confusion. Zephyr once again began explaining:

"I'm sure Y/N..." He smiled when he called her by her real name for the first time.

"You've been curious about why so many creatures helped you while you were performing the tasks for Aphrodite."

Y/N nodded, none of them had told her why they'd help her.

"They were all sent by none other than Zeus, who had been watching all this happen and agreed it was unfair of Aphrodite to put you through such hardships."

The couple couldn't believe their ears. The king of the gods himself intervened on their behalf.

"He looks favorably upon your marriage and has even called a meeting to determine if Y/N should be allowed to become an immortal herself."

Y/N's mouth dropped unable to comprehend his words, but Eros was delighted. He could finally be together with his wife for all eternity, not fearing that one day he'd lose her in death because she was human. He felt so grateful to Zeus.

"It shall be put to a vote and needless to say, your mother won't say yes."

Of course they expected that.

"But fear not. There's already many who are willing to vouch for you. Persephone and Hades for example, Ares, Apollo, Demeter and I'm willing to bet that Dionysus will show up drunk and will agree to anything."

They all let out a chuckle at that.

"I'll let you know what the results are. Zeus agreed it'd be better if you two weren't there. He wants a peaceful meeting without Aphrodite throwing a tantrum."

Leaving them alone, the two lovers stared at each other for a while, unable to believe how lucky they were. Y/N reached up to touch Yeosang.

"It's ok Y/N. I'm real and I promise I won't ever leave you again."

His hand cupped the side of her face, thumb drawing circles on her cheek.

"I love you and I promise to love you my heart......

For all eternity."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

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offaeandcreation · 3 years

Text

A Pearl Lost and Found

“This is the composition I made for my final exam; its name is ‘A Pearl Button Lost and Found.’” She announced. Finally, she settled her fingers on the guqin and rang her first chord.

Meng Shi waited and waited. Trained A-Yao in everything she knew; reading, writing, music, even squirreling away every extra coin on cultivation manuals. A-Yao must be ready for when Jin Guangshan returned for them. For him. For her. Day in and day out. He trained. She worked.

Jin Guangshan did not return.

CW: Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Financial Issues Referenced

AO3

A breeze rushed through the open hall, sweeping the white and blue banners of the Gusu Lan Sect into a dance. Though the noise never passed a whisper, a hush settled as a young woman ambled into the hall. With her guqin tucked in a silk sleeve under her arm, robes curling around her like blooming petals of a flower, Meng Shi settled in her place at the front of the hall like an immortal cultivator, long fingers ghosting over the qin strings.

“This is the composition I made for my final exam; its name is ‘A Pearl Button Lost and Found.’” She announced. Finally, she settled her fingers on the guqin and rang her first chord.

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

She dreamed Jin Guangshan would return for her. Constructed fantasies where one night he would sweep into the brothel, take A-Yao into his arms, smiling as he did so, and ferry them away. Far away.

Deep in the nights, while a client would take their pleasure inside her, Meng Shi would dream: it was him, not a client. She was in Jin Guangshan’s bed, married and unworried when her next meal would be. And A-Yao was practicing cultivation and studying the six arts, not hidden in a closet away from wandering eyes. Sometimes, when the client was especially rough, not bothering to even use oil, (or letting her slip it on), she would clutch the pearl button he had given her so tightly she would find its imprint inscribed into her palm the next morning.

A button and a dream. That’s all she had.

Day in and day out. He trained. She worked.

Jin Guangshan did not return.

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

The chords soft and slow, required Meng Shi to hold down zither strings while plucking others. And then the pause. The last note hung in the air, stringing the audience into an uncomfortable pause. Made them freeze, spines akin to metal spikes – waiting for the breath, the respite. Just like she was all those years. At least, they had the privilege of it lasting only for a moment.

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

The one who freed her out of the brothel did not wear gold. At least in his robes; he brought no buttons or promises.

In fact, when they first met, she didn’t even know who he was.

The last visages of sunlight vanished beneath the horizon. A couple days off, only during the time she bled. Cramps tightened their grip around Meng Shi’s waist and it must have shown on her face for A-Yao crept closer, clutching at her skirt. She squeezed his hand with a smile, making certain her eyes crinkled. A-Yao returned the grin. She wondered if it was as false as her own.

The merchant selling the cultivation manuals often took his place at the end of the street, just at the intersection between the poor and rich red district in Yunping. She scanned the crowd for the familiar squirrelly-mustached man in blue or green hemp. Loud chatter boomed in the busy street as vendors and prostitutes called out to potential customers. Potential coin. Another meal. Another day.

“Are you looking for your friends?” A voice said very much close by. The sort of slurred smirking tone Meng Shi was all too familiar with. She pulled A-Yao close, using her sleeve and skirts to hide him, her fingers dug into her purse, nails scraping through the thin material into the too little coin. She peered over her shoulder, scanning for the drunkard.

Not even a couple paces away, said drunkard lounged on a nearby pillar, liquor pouring down his chin as he looked down on what appeared to be a cloaked person—their back to her. The fabric looked thin, and it shimmered against the torchlight.

Red silk, most likely. Rich.

Though the weather wasn’t as humid as it usually was this time of year, it was obvious the person wished to hide their identity. As if a rich man could shed his origin so easily in these parts.

“I asked where Yunmeng is.” A youthful voice replied, coming from the throat of someone who just stepped over the door’s ledge of adolescence into adulthood thoug it didn’t crack, “either tell me or I’m leaving.”

A gold piece flashed in the torchlight.

Her coin purse too light.

The merchant may raise the price again. And she wouldn’t even be able to afford a meal for A-Yao.

“A-Niang?” A-Yao asked. They had stopped walking.

The drunkard’s eyes glittered, a slow dripping grin spread on his face, “Ah, what a junior, so impatient. Too embarrassed to enter a brothel? With your pretty face, you may get even a discount!”

The young man bristled, hand flying to his side. The drunkard’s smile fell away into horror, skin sheet-white.

“I’m sure if I swing around your pretty face, anyone would give me a discount.” The young man hissed.

Meng Shi frowned. Rich and spoiled. Likely to flash a weapon he couldn’t even yield.

She pulled A-Yao along. Not worth the risk.

“A-Niang,” A-Yao said as they slipped back into the flow of the crowd, “I think he is a cultivator.”

~~~

The merchant raised the price.

Meng Shi tucked the booklet into her sleeve alongside the painfully empty purse. A-Yao dragged his feet on the pebbled ground, kicking up dirt clouds. They walked down a smaller street now, crowds and people leaning more into the open, brightly colored shops. Surprisingly enough, this side of the street remained empty. Not even drunkards or thieves hung around. Something about a ghost wandering the area. Not that she had ever seen it.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, frowning at her sleeve before pulling at her skirt to continue back to the brothel, “It’s nothing, A-Niang.”

The third time he got like this.

“A-Yao, please-” Meng Shi stopped, clutching the book closer to herself.

“The cultivator is here.” A-Yao interrupted, pointing behind her instead.

Meng Shi turned, and indeed a silhouette with a cloak leaped from balcony to balcony, right to the roof of an abandoned tea-house. No one had picked up the place due to the leaky, broken roof…

“Master cultivator! Watch out!” The cry tore out of her throat.

The moment the words left her mouth, the cultivator sunk into the rooftop as if it devoured him. A loud, painful crash.

Meng Shi covered her mouth with her sleeve. The tea-house simply too unsafe for her to enter, and what even could she offer?

What is it with rich men fooling around and getting themselves into trouble?

She should just leave. Perhaps the cultivator broke a bone or two, but he had the funds for a doctor, while if she so much as attempted to climb into the unstable building, a scratch could kill her.

A red light blinked in the holes of the house. Bright. Like a silent firework.

And the young cultivator shot up through the hole in the roof, cloak billowing around him like a flying flag. Sword beneath him, engulfed in the colors of a scarlet star.

Is this how Jin Guangshan flew? Would A-Yao one day be like an immortal, flying above them all?

She clutched the book closer. Hopefully.

The red light remained only for a moment, disappearing before anyone in the crowd noticed him.

He landed right in front of them. The wind swirled around him, cupping his figure in the air. A slow descent, a god. Meng Shi pulled A-Yao close, bowing her head.

“Is this esteemed cultivator injured?” She asked, eyeing the red, bleeding slashes on his exposed hands and chin. Her mind raced, tracing the building of the local doctor on a mental map. Yes, down two streets and-

“No need.” The cultivator replied.

A-Yao’s gasp tore her attention back to him.

The red slices slowly shrunk and disappeared, like wiping off makeup.

The cloak’s hood that framed his face slipped to reveal dark hair wound up in an elaborate hairstyle, clipped probably with some luxurious pin, hidden in shadow. Round red eyes met hers, “I appreciate your warning, however.”

Irises scanned her before shifting to A-Yao, peeking his head from behind her. He too must have seen how his wounds vanished in a flash.

“What a sweet-faced son, impressed?” Voice tilted up with a pride of a purring cat. Crescent smile to match.

A-Yao nodded, though his white-knuckled grip on Meng Shi’s skirt revealed his trepidation.

The cultivator slid a sword into its sheath, gold with motifs woven in. But the light from the shops and vendors proved to be insufficient lighting to see what they were.

Very expensive. Perhaps when Jin Guangshan took A-Yao to the Jinlintai, he would finally get one.

“Perhaps you can help me with a matter.” The cultivator said, “do you know-”

“Yunmeng is on the northern end of the city which you can find the lake to cross to reach it following up this street,” A-Yao said, pointing behind the cultivator.

Meng Shi squeezed A-Yao’s shoulder, “do not interrupt someone, A-Yao.” Much less a rich, dangerous cultivator.

The cultivator blinked before bursting into laughter, “I actually was going to ask something else, but clearly you must have walked by me earlier to overhear that interesting conversation.”

A cold pit dropped into Meng Shi’s gut. She swung her sleeve to cover A-Yao. Maybe he wouldn’t punish them for the interruption. Maybe-

The booklet went flying, clattering into the dirt as its flimsy spine snapped. Colorful papers skidded across the ground, flashing their contents for all to see.

And the coin purse slumped to the ground, not even containing a coin for a single clunk.

Meng Shi gasped. A-Yao scrambled on his hands and knees, picking up the scattered paper. She too, though tears blurred her vision, never mind her skirt, scrambled the precious paper up from the ground. There is no way the merchant would even allow them to exchange the book! He would demand money. And the pages were out-of-order now, not even numbered. How would A-Yao use it now?!

“What is this?” The cultivator leaned over, picking up a sheet.

Meng Shi bowed her head, shoulders shaking. Please don’t laugh at her. Please don’t-

“A cultivation manual, esteemed cultivator,” A-Yao answered, also bowing his head, remembering his manners.

Meng Shi dared to look up. The cultivator frowned at the sheet, flipping it back and forth. The line between his brows growing into a crevice. His gaze shifted back to A-Yao, “You eagerly want to become a cultivator?”

A-Yao hesitated, glancing at Meng Shi for assurance.

“I’d prefer you wouldn’t lie to me. There won’t be a consequence for your answer, but I hate liars.” The cultivator interrupted. He crossed his arms, but the page didn’t so much as crinkle. Long sharp nails barely ghosting the fragile paper.

“My father is a cultivator,” A-Yao replied, voice even.

“Oh?” The cultivator leaned back, posture relaxing a bit, “And who is this man? I might know him.”

“Sect Leader Jin Guangshan.”

The cultivator… flinched. He opened his mouth, paused, before closing.

Did something happen to Jin Guangshan? Why did he flinch? Was he this cultivator’s sworn enemy? Were they in danger?

He said nothing. And A-Yao remained in his spot, not so much as flinching or trembling under the red-eyed stare. Even with placid smile—the same mask Meng Shi wore with the more difficult clients.

The cultivator finally sighed, breaking the silence, and changing the subject, “What do you think of this… manual?” The way the words came out sounded like he just had eaten some strange-tasting fruit.

Meng Shi’s hand curled into a fist, hidden beneath her sleeve. How dare he? She stayed up night after night, working, spreading her damned legs for ferocious beasts to claw a meal for them. To get A-Yao schooled. To get those manuals so he could leave and never look back. Meng Shi would bet her pearl button given as a gift, as a promise, that this man wouldn’t survive one night working as a prostitute. And he had the gall to look down at the manual. At her?

A-Yao’s gaze flittered to the ground.

“Remember, I don’t like liars.” The cultivator reminded him.

“These manuals are useless,” A-Yao said. Now he shook, eyes flitting between her and the cultivator.

The wind stole her breath.

No.

No, he had to be incorrect.

A-Yao must have been doing something wrong, perhaps the manuals were too advanced or-

The cultivator smiled, sharp-edged like the sword he wore on his belt, “Correct. These are more likely to give you Qi deviation than anything else. A useless endeavor.” He then turned to her.

Only clasping her hands together, digging nails into her flesh kept her from bursting into tears, “You have a clever son. A shame really that-” he paused, frowning at her. The relaxed arrogance in his posture dissipated. Tht stupid smirk fell away.

A rich. Spoiled. Brat-

“Your name?”

He suddenly wanted to know her name?!

“Meng Shi.” She hissed, grinding her teeth together to keep angry words from spilling.

At A-Yao, “and yours?”

“Meng Yao.” Obediently, responded with a salute.

“We’ll meet again then.” The cultivator said with a wave, cloak billowing like a curtain in the wind as he walked away, without a goodbye.

“A-Niang…”

“Let’s go home.”

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

The melody changed to something heavier, sadness into tension, but a playful sharp tune echoed within the pauses. How else would she paint their benefactor? Outer appearance merely a veneer of youth. Sharp-edged and almost bordering cruel. But unlike a certain man with a certain button, the man kept his promise. Foreshadowed in a lack of a goodbye and by the tune she plucked on the zither.

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

Two nights later, as Meng Shi calculated the number of clients she would need to take on extra to buy a refill of rouge, anything but to think about the collection of false manuals stacked in a corner behind A-Yao when a rapid knock forced her to open her door early.

Sisi waited with a frown on her face. Lips already painted in her favorite deep rose pink, “Madame says someone is here for you.”

Meng Shi’s fingers dug into the old wood. Nails too short, clipped to defenseless crescent-moons, unable to even make a scratch on her damn door.

“A-Yao.” She gestured at her son, who had looked up from his poetry book when the door knocked, skin turning pale, “go hide. Only come out when I come for you.”

He nodded, slipping past her and Sisi with his shoulders hunched.

“Watch over him, please-”

Sisi grabbed her hand, warming her cold, trembling fingers between her palms, “I’ll scratch out anyone who so much as looks his direction.”

Meng Shi nodded, touching her hair, making sure not a single stubborn strand stood out of place. And she went to the first floor.

Madame Meng stood at the front room of the brothel with a cloaked man, taller than the young cultivator she met a few nights before but wearing the same color outer robes, standing akin to a column holding up a temple, with a stone expression to match.

“It appears a Young Master bought your contract.” Madame Meng twitched a false smile as Meng Shi lifted her head from her bow, “and your son’s.”

Meng Shi’s jaw dropped. She stared at the Madame before shifting to the unexpressive, unfamiliar man.

“Take any possessions and your son. I’ll escort you to your carriage.” The man said.

The debt? The contract? Everything? Paid?

The glimmer of excitement popped. The red robe. He must have been that youngster’s servant or something. Most likely, he bought her to be his concubine.

But a concubine didn’t have to take on clients.

Better than a prostitute.

Maybe if she asked nicely, she could ask for A-Yao to learn cultivation…

“Of course, please give me half a sichen.” She bowed again. Her throat closed up.

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

Meng Shi’s hands flew on the guqin. The melody bright, full of scales and chords, forcing her arms to run up and down the entirety of the instrument. Sweat trickled down her spine. Above the fast-paced song, murmurs among the crowd hummed in the background.

And then a pause, before she started the remix, a softer, sweeter tune than the first set of verses she played.

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

The youngster cultivator ended up to be older than she was, revealing himself to be Sect Leader Wen.

He had no interest in making her his concubine.

Instead, he had A-Yao immediately swept away to join the other junior cultivators. And herself, a two-story house within Nightless City, with two servants, and an allowance.

Meng Shi waited with baited breath for the ‘but.’ When Sect Leader Wen announced it, he easily read her.

“All talent should be part of my sect. Why should I let anyone else snatch your son up?” The response came with another of his sharp-toothed smiles.

Well… as long as A-Yao wasn’t in any danger…

That was it. Right? A-Yao studied cultivation under the banners of the greatest Sect in the cultivation world. She no longer had to take clients to bring food to the table. And she bought Sisi’s contract as well.

But her hands itched.

“The Gusu Lan Sect’s expertise is in musical cultivation,” A-Yao mentioned offhandedly once, among a tirade of other information about the Great Sects.

An idea popped like a firecracker. At the very least, she would have fun for an evening if it didn’t go as planned.

~~~

The Wen Clan had more than enough money to throw at almost any form of entertainment while juggling the expenses of running the biggest sect there was without a hitch. Every couple of evenings, entertainers would perform for the clan in their private dining room. Guests, lucky enough to be invited, often came back with stories such as the one time Madame Wen paid a troupe of fire-breathing acrobats to accompany an announcement of her pregnancy. By coincidence, A-Yao befriended First Master Wen Xu and had been invited to dine with the main branch more than a handful of times. He mentioned Sect Leader Wen paid musicians this time around.

Asking permission to play one song on the guqin on that nights proved to be quite easy: certainly helped to slip a bag of coins to the troupe leader and flutter her eyelashes.

She prepared like she would for work, excluding the ruffling of fabric and sewing of her sleeves so they would hitch up whenever she twisted her wrist. With her guqin in its silk sleeve, she slipped into the room, earning a nod from the musicians and a confused stare by the bodyguard Wen Zhuliu.

“It’s just a performance. Don’t worry.” She whispered to him, placing a manicured finger to her lips.

It earned her more blinking, but he let her in.

Servants milled about the never-ending sea of tables in the private dining hall. Members of the Wen clan with their flame robes sat in sections, eating and talking, passing and turning the revolving trays filled to the brim with soups, meats, and noodles. And at the back of the room, on an elevated platform, the main branch with their fiery collars towered above the rest. And A-Yao.

He quickly noticed her presence, followed by Sect Leader Wen. A raised eyebrow, but she only bowed in his direction before taking a seat where the musicians set up.

Straight back, head angled, guqin propped on the carpeted. And she played.

It was a melody she composed many years ago. Sweet like the lychee she peeled for A-Yao, sprinkled with a little Yunmeng spice she could afford once a year.

The piece came to an end to a silent room. Disciples and elders alike all watched her with mesmerized gazes. And then the clapping began.

~~~

“An excellent performance; I didn’t hear such quality for many years.” Sect Leader Wen mentioned the following day. On purpose, Meng Shi escorted A-Yao to his classes, something she hadn’t done since the first six months of their arrival. And as she prepared to leave, Sect Leader Wen materialized behind her.

Meng Shi bowed, “many thanks to Sect Leader.” She clutched her sleeves to not flick her wrists.

Sect Leader Wen tilted his head, “but I’m guessing you didn’t perform just for fun.”

Meng Shi returns a smile, “I was hoping to showcase my abilities, so Sect Leader may consider allowing me to continue my music study?”

“Oh?~” A pause as Sect Leader Wen tapped under his chin, most likely pondering the matter, “This year, the Gusu Lan Sect will host a discussion conference. Perhaps you wish to come with Meng Yao?”

~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~~🎵~~~🎵~~~🎵~

The music ended. A long chord held with crescendoing trills before drifting off into oblivion. Only its echo remained in the quiet hall.

Unlike the private dining hall of the Wen clan, the Lan Sect clapped quietly—crisp and polite.

Even A-Yao matched their volume and rhythm, though she could read his posture to be restless with how wide his grin spread on his face and how the muscles in his hands twitched.

Meng Shi saluted, signaling the end of her examination

Lan Qiren, acting Sect Leader, gave a single curt nod. Perhaps it was just the light, but she swore he wore a tiny twitch of a smile, “The examiners and I will return once we have our verdict.”

Even with the budding...relationship? between them, she was sure Lan Qiren would judge her purely on merit and performance.

An incense stick later, with a smile no longer hidden, he announced:

She passed.

#Meng shi #meng yao #jin guangyao #wen ruohan #lan qiren #jin guangshan #mo dao zu shi

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lancermylove · 3 years

Text

Too Late (Oneshot)

Fandom: MLQC

Pairing: Victor x fem!Reader

Warning: MAJOR angst, reader’s death, mention of blood

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Can i get a oneshot of victor

Word Count: 2,158

A/N: The reader is looking back on past event and reflecting, so flashbacks (italicized text) are in narrator’s POV, while the present (reg text) is in the reader’s POV.

———————————————

Since childhood, I have always stood by his side and took care of him. Whenever people saw the two of us interacting, they immediately assumed we were a couple. Even the employees at LFG gossiped about us, saying that I was Victor's lady but he wanted to keep our relationship a secret.

Without knocking on the door, you walked into Victor's office, holding a collection of shopping bags. "Hi, Victor. Let me guess you forgot to eat lunch?"

The CEO shifted his attention from the computer screen to you and examined the bags. "Someone had a lot of free time today. Did you purchase the entire mall?"

"Wait, can I buy the whole mall?" You playfully asked while carefully setting the paper bags on the couch.

"If you plan to, warn me ahead of time," the CEO chuckled, removing his reading glasses and setting them on a stack of unsigned papers. He sighed quietly and rubbed his eyes with his right index finger and thumb.

"Why do you take so much stress?" You walked behind his chair, wrapped your arms around his shoulder, and pressed your lips on the side of his head. The subtle scent of his shampoo tickled your nose. "I know you're the CEO, but Vic, you need to rest once in a while."

"I'm fine, (Y/N)," Victor delicately touched one of your arms and whispered, "you worry too much."

"If I won't worry, then who will?" You giggled, resting your forehead against the side of his head. "Now, let's eat! I'm starving."

“You have not had lunch yet?” The raven-haired man inquired in a concerned voice, raising an eyebrow.

“How could I eat lunch knowing you haven’t eaten yet?”

Victor was aware of my feelings for him; he had known for years that I loved him, so why were his eyes only for her? She had done nothing for him and only caused him trouble, so why? No matter how much time I spent with him, his mind was preoccupied with her. Even on my special day, he was with her.

You waited on the sofa wearing his favorite black, backless dress with a pearl shoulder necklace. Every few seconds, your eyes shifted between the main door and your cellphone. You told yourself that he will walk in or call you any minute. You made excuses to appease your restless mind.

"There must be a lot of traffic, or maybe, he is stuck in a meeting. What if he is planning a big surprise for me?"

Seconds, minutes, and hours ticked by, but there was no sign of Victor. You spent your entire birthday waiting for him, but he never showed up.

The sound of a loud knock forced your heavy, bloodshot eyes to open. Even after the events of the previous day, only one name escaped your lips, "Victor?"

You rose from the sofa and hurried to the door in hopes of seeing your love; instead, you found a shimmer blue present sitting on your doorstep with a purple envelope on top. Picking up the box, you closed the door and dragged your heavy body back to the living room. As soon as you bent down to set the present on the center table, you caught a glimpse of yourself in a nearby mirror. Your cheeks were stained by your dark mascara and eyeliner, your red lipstick smudged past your lips, and your hair was disheveled.

"What a mess..." you mumbled under your breath and averted your eyes.

You carefully opened the envelope and pulled out an elegant ivory-colored birthday card. He apologized to you multiple times, but your eyes repeatedly darted back to one sentence: I had to attend to an urgent matter.

"Urgent matter...right," you snickered and hung your head, feeling a strong burning sensation in your eyes once again.

He apologized many times, and I didn't want to forgive him, but my heart refused to cooperate. Did he forget the promise he made to me when we were kids?

“I promise to always spend your birthday with you, no matter what! I will always find a way to come see you on your birthday.”

I remember how happy I was hearing those words on a clear, sunny day in our favorite park. The words that I held close to my heart seemed like nothing but an empty promise from him. I didn't want to forgive him, but in the matter of the mind and heart, the heart somehow always emerges as the victor.

Then came the day where she broke his heart and went to another man. Despite everything, I opened my arms for him and stood firmly by his side. I even stayed with him in his home to make sure he didn't take stress or overwork himself more than usual. As if blessing me for my good deeds, Victor slowly started to open up to me.

"Why are you still awake? It's 4 am, and you have a meeting at 8 am." You groggily stepped into Victor's bedroom, rubbing your sleep-filled eyes.

"I am almost done with this report. Why are you awake?" He asked with his eyes still on the stack of papers in his hand.

"A nightmare woke me up...so I thought to check on you."

Victor momentarily glanced at you before setting the report down on the nightstand. He stretched out a hand towards you and gently whispered, "Come here."

Wordlessly, you stepped closer to him and took a hold of his warm, large hand. Victor helped you onto his bed and pulled a gray cotton blanket over your body.

"Sleep here for tonight."

He turned off the light and settled down on the mattress, facing you. Victor ran his long fingers through your hair in an attempt to help you fall asleep. In all the years you knew him, never once had Victor touched you in such a tender manner.

At that moment, I started to think everything was working in my favor, and life was finally smiling at me. But who was I kidding? Once again, she came back and ruined my life.

"I am sorry, Victor," she hid her face in her hands and sobbed, "I shouldn't have left you. Please, forgive me."

You stood a few feet away watching her cry as Victor comforted her. Then she said the words you prayed she wouldn't. "Please, give me a second chance."

Victor hesitated for a while but eventually gave a small nod, "Fine. Will you stop crying now, dummy?"

A sharp pain shot through your chest as you felt your heart shatter to pieces. Blinking rapidly, you tried to fight back the tears clouding your eyes in vain. You covered your mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping and backed away, step-by-step, your eyes fixed on the back of his head.

Victor snapped his head towards you when he heard your footsteps retreating in a hurry. He stared with wide eyes for a second before squeezing his eyes shut. The corners of his lips tugged down as his head lowered.

I loved him to no end, but why couldn't he see it? Why did he always favor her over me? Was I truly that...worthless? To add to this pain, my family started to pressurize me into marriage, but I refused. I told them my heart only belong to one man, but they didn't listen. Unfortunately, I only had one person to turn to for comfort, so I ran to into his arms and cried my heart.

"I don't want to marry a random man," you cried in his chest, "but they won't stop pressurizing me. What do I do?"

Victor's muscles stiffened at hearing the word 'marriage'. He silently exhaled, placing one hand on the back of your head while wrapping the other around your waist.

You waited for him to say something, anything, but he remained quiet. His silence made your world crumble, and the little hope you had left diminished.

Why didn’t he say anything? Did my pain not affect him, or did he not care? They kept pushing me even more after that, and ultimately gave me a final warning, marry Victor or marry the man they chose for me. My family's only goal was to help their sinking business by finding a rich husband for me. I went to him yet again and broke down completely.

You kneeled in the middle of his office and hung your head low, letting tears drop onto the black tiles beneath you. The coolness in the tiles seeped into your otherwise burning body. "Why are they trying to ruin my life?"

Victor kneeled in front of you and rubbed soothing circles on your upper back.

"Victor, please do something," you bawled in desperation, knowing that he had the power to change the outcome. He averted his eyes from your crying form and stared at the fireplace, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter.

You lent me a shoulder to cry on, but why didn't you say anything? That day I left your office empty-handed and angry - not angry at him, but myself for thinking he would help me.

Then came the day of my forced marriage to a man who I hadn't even seen. From the new reports, I knew Victor was in a different country for a global conference, but I still didn't lose hope. Why was I so foolish? Why did I think he would walk in at any moment and rescue me like a fairytale prince on a white stallion? I waited and waited, but he never came. I should have expected this, but I was such a fool.

Days and months passed but Victor never contacted me, not even to ask if I was okay. Would I have told him the truth if he called to ask? Would I have told him that my husband doesn't care about the marriage or me? That my marriage was completely meaningless. That my dear husband hadn't even kissed me once, let alone touch me. That I was glad he wasn’t interested me because I only dreamed of kissing only one man. That I hate everything, everyone, and was reaching my limit.

I stared at the pearl-like raindrops rolling down the bedroom window and forced a chuckle. It was comforting to know that at least nature cared about me. Was nature crying for me? I tilted my head to look at the cellphone beside me and stared at the black screen. What was I hoping for? He didn't care back then, he still doesn't care, and he won't care tomorrow. Not a single person in my life cares, which I guess is good, considering that no one will be sad. My husband will find some other woman, my family has their prospering business, and Victor has her.

"Well, l-looks like it's almost time." I turned my head to look at the rain one last time as my vision began to blur. Within seconds, my head began to spin. Probably from the blood draining out of the cuts on my wrist.

"G-Goodbye, V-Victor...I hope you're always happy."

As soon as those words escaped my lips, I felt like laughing at myself for still being a fool. Even in my final moments, I couldn't stop thinking of him.

------

The raindrops continuously fell from the sky, each drop hitting the ground with a loud thud. Goldman followed Victor from a safe distance, curious to find out where the CEO was headed. The secretary nearly lost his footing when he saw his boss walk into a cemetery. He hid behind a tree close to the grave and quietly watched his employer.

Victor crouched down in front of a black granite stone slab and gently placed a bouquet of white camellias on it.

"Hey," he whispered in an exhausted voice as he brushed his fingertips on the rain-drenched stone slab. Goldman watched as Victor lowered his head and rested the flat of his right palm on the grave.

"Forgive me for not visiting for a few days...I was out of the country." Victor blinked his eyes rapidly and forced the corners of his lips up. "I...ate lunch already and..."

Goldman's eyes widened when he heard his boss sniffle. He leaned a little closer to make sure his imagination was not getting the better of him.

"(Y/N), h-happy birt-" Victor choked on his words and squeezed his eyes shut. He took a few moments to gather himself before standing up and trudging towards the exit.

The secretary studied his boss's slumped shoulders and heavy footsteps in confusion. As soon as Victor disappeared out of sight, Goldman carefully walked to the black granite slab and followed the bouquet up to the tombstone.

"Let's see...," he adjusted his glasses and read the words inscribed on the gravestone, "To all those reading this, tell the person you love your feelings before it's too late and all that's left is regret."

———————————————

➣ MLQC Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

#mr love victor #mlqc #mlqc victor #victor x reader

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alwerakoo · 3 years

Text

“It’s all there”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwerakoo/works

------

Tommy is afraid of many things.

Like spiders, for example. And not the little ones, the big and hairy ones that always managed to somehow find their way into his sleeping bag in Pogtopia.

And fireworks. Loud and colorful, even if there were no crossbows around.

He's scared that at last, the one person from whom he was trying so desperately to hide will eventually catch him in his newly found home, grab him by the neck and pull back to Logstedshire.

He's afraid of the consequences of his own actions.

But now, he's even more scared of being punished for something he didn't do.

''Did you do it?'' Techno whispers in his ear

Although he can't see him, he feels his presence behind his back; a hand brushes past his shoulder.

''No.''

The inside of what's left of the Community House is blurred by walls of water. Dark silhouettes of his former friends and Dream.

He can still taste smoke in the air.

''If you're not affiliated with Tommy then give me that stupid disc.''

No.

Dream's voice echos through the water, ringing in his ears. He tasted something bitter in his mouth as he gasps.

Someone puts down an ender chest.

''No!''

The pearl he throws takes him to the other side, through the streams of water. His stomach twists when he lands.

Tubbo turns to face him, but his eyes are unfocused, searching.

For several long seconds, Tommy lets his hands materialize before his eyes. The burning feeling of potion still lingers on the back of his tongue.

Tubbo's face grows paler with each passing moment.

''This is what I was talking about! Why is he here?!''

Dream stands tall, his voice firm and strong, and he looks even bigger than usual.

In Tommy's eyes, he's hardly the most terrifying person standing among the flooded ruins.

''Tommy?''

The rays of setting sun illuminate Tubbo's back. Its horns cast a long shadow over the stone remains, reaching the tips of Tommy's boots, climbing up higher and higher.

''No, I... Please. Don't give him that disc. Tubbo, listen to me-''

Tubbo's gaze shifts downwards, to the netherite ax he's still desperately griping in his hand.

''You really shouldn't be here.''

''I know. I know, I know, but ... This? It's not... It wasn't me! Does this look like something I would do Tubbo?''

At fist, he doesn't notice when Techno appears right behind him. Someone in the crowd gasps.

Tubbo's expression changes suddenly. It's that unreadable mask, the same one Tommy saw at Wilbur's funeral.

He stares at him. With the same eyes that stared at the decorated inscription on the gravestone.

„Wilbur. Beloved friend, father and brother.”

The chest opens with a soft noise.

Mellohi still shimmers in the sun.

Tommy's breath gets caught in his throat.

''Everything,'' Tubbo stands up ''everything I ever did was for our country, Tommy! Everything!''

He holds his hand out.

Dream's face remains hidden under the mask, but in his hands the disc seems so important. So dangerous. He drags his nails over its delicate, black surface.

Tommy can taste blood.

''I'm sorry. But you can only blame yourself.''

Tommy looks at him.

And realizes how pathetic Tubbo looks.

In his oversized uniform, with a crooked tie. He tries to sound confident, but his voice is shaky.

His shirt is missing a button.

He looks at his best friend and sees, for the very first time, a sad parody of everything Wilbur once was.

Of everything Schlatt was.

Tommy laughs, but it comes out more like a sigh.

''Your country ... Is more important to you than your family?''

Techno puts his hand on his back.

Tubbo grimaces.

''I don't see my family here.''

When Tommy was running away from the first festival, someone shot an arrow right in his back. He fell, but got up as soon as his hands touched the wooden path. The adrenaline in his veins eased the pain.

And only later, in the tunnel leading to Pogtopia, when he saw Tubbo alive and well again, the metal arrowhead reminded him of its existence, the sudden ache making him collapse in Tubbo's arms.

Now Tubbo stood in front of him, aiming his bow straight at him.

The intangible arrow buries itself deep into his chest. A promise of future pain.

Techno's hand drops to his side.

''... Oh. Well, then.''

He turns to his brother.

And in that split second when their eyes meet, Tommy gives him permission.

To do what he previously called the worst possible option, something that still terrified him

He gives him permission to do something, for what he previously called him a traitor.

''I see you around, Mr. President.''

He puts all the venom that gathers in his throat into those last two words.

The inside of his cheek is bleeding.

He pulls his arm back, ender pearl in hand. Then freezes mid-movement.

''Oh. And I'll tell Phil you say hello.''

Tubbo looks at him for the last time, as he disappears behind the water.

***

Nights in the snow biome can be brutal.

Snow blizzards, when Techno takes Carl inside, letting him hide from the cold. Little ice crystals forming on the tips of his eyelashes. Phil putting hot bricks under his sheets to keep his feet warm.

But now, the layer of snow beneath their boots shimmers in the soft light of full moon. Trees letting a thin layer of white fluff cover their branches.

They follow a familiar path towards their house, leaving shallow footprints behind.

It doesn't matter. Nobody is looking for them.

''... I'm sorry,” Tommy says, finally breaking the silence.

Techno looks at him, raising one eyebrow.

''Sorry for what, exactly?”

''For when... for when I... fuck,” he stutters.

Can't find the right words.

He sighs resignedly. Techno hums softly.

He takes off his fluffy hood, tilting his head back. A few snowflakes land on his reddened cheeks.

"I'm sorry I called you a traitor," he admits ''You were right. You're always right.''

His heart beats around the tip of his intangible arrow.

His eyes sting.

Techno laughs breathlessly.

''Yeah. To be fair, I was the only one that was honest with you the entire time. If you would only... Oh, Tommy.

He realizes he's crying.

He stops, pressing his hands against his eyes.

''Fuck. I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm...'' he puts his palms on his wet, cold face.

Techno stands in front of him, hesitantly reaching out his hands, then freezes, looking a bit conflicted.

Finally, he sighs as he spreads his arms.

''Come here.''

Tommy feels much smaller in his arms, but it doesn't really matter. He presses his face against Techno's chest, letting herself have this moment. A little moment of weakness.

His coat is soft and warm.

Perfect to wipe away his tears.

***

By the time they get home, the moon is already high on the sky. Tommy reaches out, tracing its shape with his fingers.

They're laughing on the porch, but their voices quiet down when Techno opens the front door.

From the room upstairs, Tommy can hear soft snoring.

''Phil's sleeping.''

Tommy steps in, feeling the pleasant warmth from the fireplace.

Some snowflakes fall through the gap, dissolving on the floor. But Techno doesn't close the door.

''We could,'' he says, and for the first time lets some uncertainties creep into his voice ''start preparing. Now. If you're not tired?''

Tommy gives him a weak smile and opens his mouth. His gaze suddenly falls on the coat hanger standing next to the door frame.

''Go. I'll join you. I just want to warm up a bit.''

Tommy isn't sure how Techno will interpret this lie, but it doesn't matter.

''Okay.''

Techno gives him one last look and silently closes the door behind him.

Phil's old coat is a bit rough to the touch. Tommy turns it over in his hands carefully as if it's about to fall apart in his hands (and looking at how old it is, it definitely wasn't impossible).

He reaches into one of the inside pockets with his hand, almost immediately finding what he's looking for.

He spreads the small piece of paper with fingers.

He still remembers drawing it.

When the hours his five-year-old self spent with Phil, mindlessly rewriting the same lopsided letters and shapes, finally paid off.

He remembers how hard it was for him to find the right pink for Techno's hair. The shapeless stain next to Wilbur, that was supposed to be a guitar.

He remembers when Tubbo asked him to draw a bee next to him.

He remembers how genuinely proud Phil looked, pinning the drawing to their kitchen wall and then later on putting it in one of his coat pockets.

''So that I always have my family with me," he said with a soft smile.

The drawing is shaking in his hands. There's an old, big water stain in it's left corner.

He looks at the family of his former self.

His fingers are trembling.

He rips off the left side of his drawing in one, smooth movement.

It only hurts for a moment. Like ripping off an old bandana. Only for a moment, his heart aches, as the smiling figure with the words "TubO" underneath it, falls to the floor.

Tommy looks at the rest of the paper. The rest of his former world, all gathered under the lopsided: "My Fami".

And it's all there.

No one is missing.

#dream smp #mcyt #tommyinnit #Technoblade #tubbo #philza minecraft #wilbur soot #sleepy boys inc #sbi fanfic #fanfiction #au #clingy duo angst

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novantinuum · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences

Words: 2.2K~

Summary: A series of shorts detailing what might’ve happened in the moments after I Am My Monster, told from six different points of view.

Greg apparently had a LOT on his mind, because this was supposed to be short and instead it’s over 2000 words, ahah. Final chapter!

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

Chapter warning: Allusions to past non-canon character suicide.

____

Chapter 6: Greg

Hours pass.

Bismuth makes quick and quiet work of replacing the cracked slider door in Steven’s room while he sleeps, and secures a thick tarp over the open front of the house to keep the coastal breeze somewhat at bay until she can finish her repairs to the windows and siding. She warns that might take a day or two. Garnet, meanwhile, busies herself the rest of the afternoon and evening fielding all of the Diamonds’ frazzled calls, and reassuring them of the boy’s current stability. Pooling their knowledge, Dr. Maheswaran and Peridot make sure to confirm that. Beyond some minor scarring, neither his organic or Gem half seems to exhibit any serious physical health conditions in consequence of what happened today, news which works to ever so slightly lift the air of the household. With no other concrete tasks to complete, Pearl, Amethyst, Lapis, Connie, and Greg all rotate between sweeping debris off the floor, wandering the beach to mentally recuperate, and dutifully sitting at Steven’s side as he rests. It may not sound like a lot, but alas the level of emotional labor demanded by such a situation is immense.

All in all, the sun’s long since dipped below the horizon by the time Greg finally collapses onto the mattress laid out in the back of his van, craving if but a moment of privacy and respite from all the chaos. It’s been... an insufferably long day, to put it lightly. Busy. Tons of cleaning, and intercepting nosy neighbors, and bedside monitoring...

He offered to take the first night shift watching Steven a few minutes ago, but Pearl must’ve noticed the dark circles creeping ever wider under his eyes, because she proceeded to gently overturn his offer and remind him of humanity’s daily sleep requirement. And she’s right, of course. He can’t stay up as long as he used to in his twenties anymore. Plus, he probably deserves some time to himself after everything that’s transpired. There’s plenty of Gems left in the house who can keep watch, after all. Steven will be fine for a few hours. Surely nothing else can happen when he’s asleep, right?

Right??

Exhaustedly slumping against the side wall, Greg offers a glassy, vacant stare at the contacts list of his phone, roughly wiping the damp from his cheeks with his other hand as his thumb hovers over one of the numbers. Does he dare drag someone else into this whole situation? Surely the kinder solution would be to refrain from widening the circle any more, from letting anyone else learn about today’s harrowing events. And yet if he fails to find a proper outlet for the raw emotions all of this has violently hauled to the surface, he fears he just may suffer a mental break himself, repressed memories bursting like a vicious flood through the dam he desperately tried to seal them behind all those years back. Much of this is just... far too familiar.

His phone slips right through his trembling hands as the cruel reality of what he witnessed today finally begins to carve its indelible presence in his mind. A strained sob leaking from between his tightly pursed lips, he buries his head between his knees, clutching at the worn bottom hem of his jean shorts like an infant to a parent’s finger. Small. Vulnerable.

Helpless.

His son... oh stars, his only son, he—

He can’t talk about any of this to the Gems; they wouldn’t wholly grasp the uniquely human nature of his concerns. And he doesn’t feel comfortable discussing these matters with Dr. Maheswaran, especially not after the stern words she dealt to him back at the hospital. He’s burdened her enough already, by this point. No, there’s only one fellow human he feels close enough with to engage in this sort of conversation.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he reaches for the phone he dropped on the mattress. Turns it on. Nervously clamps down on his bottom lip as he selects his cousin’s contact and dials.

The passing heartbeats slamming against his ribs are almost nauseating in their needy clamor as he waits, his calloused fingers tapping against the thick rubber of his phone case. Andy’s never been a particularly tech savvy guy, so honestly, it’s well within reason he might not even carry his phone on his person to answer. And that’d be fine, really. In fact, he might even prefer it, since he’s still not confident he’s emotionally prepared to discuss any of this at this precise moment, anyways. But just as he’s beginning to undergo mental preparations for what on Earth he might leave as a voicemail message, his older family member finally picks up.

“Greg?” Andy’s gravelly voice rings through, sounding somewhat tinny through their connection. “Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s the ol’ Universe family unit doin’?”

“Not great, honestly,” he narrowly manages in response, his throat constricting tight. “That’s kinda why I’m calling, if you have the time to listen?”

“Heh. I’m a drifter, you know I ain’t got no schedule. Carry on.”

“Well... geeze, how do I put this. There was, uh... a bit of an incident today. With Steven.”

“An incident?” his cousin questions, marked worry immediately painting his tone. “The kid okay??”

He falls silent for a few seconds upon this question, threading his hyperactive digits through the split ends in his hair on automatic, a stress-induced habit. “Unclear,” he says, a slight quiver making itself intimately known in his words. “I mean, physically, at the moment, yes, but—“

He cuts off once more. It suddenly occurs to him that little of today’s events would make sense to Andy without providing the appropriate context. Or, at least, what little context he’s capable of giving as a father. It’s still terrifying to admit the truth to himself— that he doesn’t possess the full story. That he hasn’t been paying close enough attention. That, in many ways, he willfully blinded himself to all the troubling events transpiring around his son throughout the years, foolishly believing that if he didn’t involve himself... that if he simply stayed out of the Gems’ hair... everything would go to plan, and Steven would finally receive the training he needed. He didn’t expect things would grow so complicated.

He didn’t expect that his teenage son would have to march into battle carrying nothing but his wits and a shield time and time again.

With a weary sigh and a quick apology, to which Andy brushes off, Greg begins to weave a verbal picture of everything that’s transpired across the last few days. First, the hospital call. Rushing home from tour, only to find his son giant and flushed pink, literally filling an entire room with the sheer volume of his trauma. The shattered x-ray in his chart, hinting towards hidden hurts that— before all this— even Steven seemingly hadn’t processed or quantified. Then, the road trip. The unwanted reminders of his childhood. That blasted CD. His expression sobers as he describes the fateful argument they had on the road home, one which lead to his son accidentally breaking the steering wheel and flipping the van. Next... his disappearance. No texts for four whole days, which is so unlike him. He was worried sick. And the next time he saw him, he was eight feet tall, glowing, and painfully manic in behavior, with each new sentence spilling from his mouth revealing an even more heartbreaking picture of the sort of poor mental state he’d spiraled into. It was nothing short of a father’s worst nightmare, propelled into horrifying, vivid reality.

Nothing in this corner of the galaxy could’ve prepared him for the primal surge of terror and anguish he was engulfed within when that nightmare distorted and transformed even further.

His only son... colossal and coated in thick scales and spines, sclera black as night... roughly clawing at this unfamiliar form, smashing his skull against the cliffside, roaring with an inner pain so primal that the sound now haunts the depths of his very soul—

“I- you remember what happened with cousin Jo, back when we were young?” Greg says softly once he’s caught Andy up with the details of situation, his voice frail and unsteady, the tone of a man helplessly marooned amidst his anxieties. “Before she was sent to that mental rehab place? Well, I’m... with the addition of Gem magic, it almost felt like that. I mean, h-he’s fine for now, we have him resting, but... but I’m just so scared he won’t come out of this, like her, a-a-and that one day he’ll—“

A mewling sob bubbles up in his throat, swiftly severing that train of thought. N-no. No, he refuses to even utter that horrible idea out loud! After all, a world without Steven in it isn’t worth envisioning.

Andy’s eventual response— albeit tinged with a justified shade of awkwardness, given the emotionally charged nature of this conversation— is filled with genuine compassion, and for that he’s dearly thankful.

“Aw, hell... Greg, I’m- I’m so sorry. I, uh- I could fly over, if any of ya’ need me? For emotional support, or whatever?”

Upon this kind offer, he inhales deep to steady his breath, and wipes away dewy beads of moisture from the corner of his eyes, desperately hoping that he can mitigate the pitiful wavering of his voice over the phone. He’s gotta fight to reliably keep some form of composure in front of other people, damnit. His kid can’t have his dad breaking down around him too, of course.

“No, you’ve got places to be,” he replies evenly, pressing his thumb and pointer against one of his aching temples. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You ain’t asking,” he retorts, the eye-roll evident in his tone. “I’m offering. Listen- family takes care of family, y’hear? And I’m only about a day’s flight away, anyways. It’s really the least I could do.”

He sighs. Absentmindedly tugs at a thick strand of his hair. Offers a long, contemplative stare at the rickety age-worn handle affixed to the inside of the van’s back doors. Truth be told— ignoring his deep-seated guilt at dragging Andy into all this to begin with— he’d love having another family member around to embrace, especially a human one who can more deeply understand the crux of his anxieties about this delicate situation. But in the end, he shouldn’t be prioritizing his own feelings and comfort. He’s not the one in crisis, his son is.

Desperately hoping he’s making the right choice, Greg flexes his fingers, and acquiesces to the offer, on one condition: only if Steven consents to having visitors, once he’s awake.

Andy hums in approval. “Understood. Don’t wanna overload the poor guy with any surprise visits, or whatever.”

“Yeah. The last thing I want to do is push him too hard, too fast.”

He pauses, braving waves of parental grief to spend a moment to reflect on Steven’s emotional progression over the past few months... a stray negative comment here, an unusually forlorn mannerism there... All of them events that, in isolation, wouldn’t point to anything more than your standard ‘teenage angst,’ but when observed in strong, unceasing patterns, begin to reveal deeply harrowing truths about the state of an individual’s self-image. How did he never notice? Why wasn’t he there to catch him in his fall?

“I think he hates himself,” he says quietly, his voice hitching up at the end. “He didn’t say so directly, but- but I can sense it. And I don’t know how to help him, I-I... I don’t know if I can.”

“Nonsense,” his cousin scoffs, “‘course ya’ know what to do! What does any good father worth their salt give their sons?”

Unable to evade the momentary temptation of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, he slumps back against the wall, giving a weak shrug that his current audience would never see.

“I dunno, maybe a stable, safe childhood? Not growing up poor as dirt in a van?”

“No, you numbskull,” Andy immediately cuts back, “you love on ‘em and support ‘em just as much as you always have! Y’ show him that you’re always gonna be there for him, and that he can trust you with anything.”

“But I haven’t always been there for him,” he exclaims petulantly. “That’s the whole problem! That’s one of the reasons he ended up like this.”

“Greg,” he says, his voice softer this time. “Listen to me, ain’t nobody perfect, okay? We’ve all made our mistakes with people. Me? More than most. But what we can’t do is let those mistakes cloud what’s happening right now. Y’know, that’s one of the hard lessons I’ve had to learn over the past two years, that you can’t always make things about you. Because right now, it’s about him. He’s dealin’ with some hard feelings, and he needs all of our help. So, let’s help him. Together. We’ll start with one foot in front of us, and we can take it from there. All right?”

Closing his weary, exhausted eyes and pressing his thumb firm against his still-aching temple, Greg Universe gives a long sigh and finally concedes to the reality that— just as he’s not solely responsible for the decline of his son’s mental state— no man should be an island when it comes to the task of supporting one’s journey towards recovery. As with everything, the extended Universe family unit will face the future together, hand-in-hand. Step-by-step.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I think that’s do-able.”

#su #su future #greg universe #andy demayo #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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real-fanta-sea · 3 years

Note

If you're serious about the kiss thing...... You should do trikey with 56? Mikey's getting irritated about all the shit in Trevor's house

yep I’m serious, thanks for the request! It was fun to play with it, especially the part of annoyed Michael :D I used some strong language here, just so you know.

Ok, here we go *cracks knuckles*

Apart from being an exceptional place to hide from all kinds of law enforcement and pissed off gang bosses, Sandy Shores provides another highly valued quality - it's fucking hot. And not that convenient 'oh look it's the first sunny day of spring' kind of wee warm, but the brutal, penetrative heat of working by deep fryer in McDonald's during summer.

Michael smacked his lips, belched and threw an empty bottle over the battered railing of the front porch. It clanked and landed on dusty ground with a satisfying crunch, and the sun dried it in an instant. He lost count on how many of them he has already downed and disposed of, but drinking didn't help no matter what style he tried. Slow, fast, cold, warm. He tried everything. Except feeling a bit sluggish, there was no effect the lukewarm pisswasser could ever have on him after years of self-taxidermy with whiskey and coke.

The street went gradually silent by the time he finished yet another bottle, shadows grew longer, and the sun grilled him from a slightly different angle. A chatter of people was replaced by an out-of-tune orchestra of crickets and the Eagles blasting from a radio somewhere in the neighbourhood, both flowing through the air with the flavour of barbecue.

Another day successfully wasted Michael thought and shifted on the couch. If only the TV would work, he could have spent it watching movies. Or not, because the tin can ramshackle got so hot during the day he could barely breathe there. Fucking Trevor. If it wasn't for him, he could be sitting by a pool full of ice, eating ice cream and slurping milkshakes from frozen tits. Maybe even pay the girl to ride him, so he didn't have to move a finger. Or better yet, tie Trevor up, throw him into his tailgater, lock him there and make him watch them fuck... But did he really want it? Wouldn’t he be the one who would instantly let him out and have a wild make up sex with him?

An annoyed grunt later, Michael lazily tugged on the hem of his, now very rural looking, tank top and dried his forehead with it. Something deep within knew he shouldn't have used the words Trevor and Fuck in one sentence because it awakened a part of him he should better let sleep. That part that supplied his tipsy brain with vivid images of long limbs locked around him, dark hair all over dirty pillows and amber eyes rolled back, set in a very flushed face... No, nope, it wasn't what he wanted to think about, in fact, he just wanted another beer. Yeah, another beer to make that awkward semi go away. And maybe strip off his top to make that damn heat go away? Yup, that was what he wanted. Aaaand a cigarette. Perfection.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

Michael's half snore was interrupted by a sound of shutting the car door and heavy boots stomping through the cooling dust. A quick glance from the porch told him the Bodhi was back from where it took off in the morning, and there was a tall figure growling near it, shuffling some boxes in the back. For a second, Michael thought he actually moved back in time, because his back was killing him pretty much the same way it did in the morning with the same taste of beer on lips. The only detail that didn't quite match was that his torso was now naked and pearled with sweat, and there was quite a lot of bottles and cans right below the railing.

Slowly and carefully, Michael stood up and stretched like a fat cat after a good afternoon nap. Trevor was still caught up by the truck, which gave M enough time to step a bit closer to the stairs and lean on a post to regain stability while observing the sight right in front of him. Trevor never was the most ripped guy, but the way his arms bulged when he lifted a box made Michael weaker than he would admit, and the way his jeans perked up his ass when he squatted made his mouth dry. Why the hell did he have to wear that black sleeveless top? Michael thought. He knows whenever he does, we end up fucking...

Just as he lip his bit for thinking about T that way, his best friend turned around for the first time since he arrived and locked eyes with Michael. For a brief moment, he looked surprised, even taken aback by that idiotic drunk grin on Michael's face and the way he leaned against the only solid post of the house, but it soon was replaced by pure fury.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

That was actually an excellent question. Or it would be, if Michael knew the answer to it.

"What? What do you mean?"

"You SLUT!!!"

Trevor charged towards him full speed in a split second and made Michael jump a little harder than he thought it would and jammed his lower back against the table, and both M and table cried in pain.

"What the fuck, Trevor! What's your fucking problem... ouch..."

Trevor leapt up the stairs, grabbed one of Michael's wrists and yanked him towards the door he kicked open.

"You fucking whore, YOU are the problem!"

Michael's brain quit the chat altogether and bailed out on him, leaving him staring on Trevor with gaping mouth and slightly raised eyebrows. He stumbled through the door, unable to free himself from Trevor's grip, and when T shut the door and threw him back first on them only to grab his shoulders to keep him still, all he could do was to stare into his fiery eyes.

"What were you thinking, showing off your tits to all our neighbours, huh?"

Michael gulped when Trevor leaned closer. Over the past few weeks, he learned the smell of gasoline and tobacco meant sloppy fucks on the kitchen counter and hungry kisses with bitten lips. That night, it all was topped with a gun powder.

"you dirty bitch, I leave you home alone for one day and when I come back what do I see? A pair of your slutty knockers right in my face."

His hands suddenly decided to fight his stupor, and as he felt Trevor's breath on his neck, he tugged on T's top and hungrily squeezed waist found there. The only answer was a deep purr and wet tip of Trevor's tongue right where his pulse drummed against the fine skin. With a small moan, he yanked Trevor closer and collided their hips, but Trevor was faster and grabbed both his wrists and pinned them against the tin door.

"You horny bitch, did showing off make you hot and wet? Or are you just happy to see me?"

Trevor's anger was gone, now replaced with his usual horniness, as he ground his hips against Michael's to let him know the thought got him hot too. And god that shit-eating grin on his face when he leaned in and bit Michael's lip, but didn't go for a full kiss... That was the point of no return. That fucking tease! Michael trashed under him and actually managed to get both hands freed just to leap forward and literally throw them both trough the bathroom door, for Trevor to land on the toilet bowl.

Michael could barely hear the sound of boxes and bottles clacking, falling to the dirty ground as he straddled Trevor and grabbed his head to steal that kiss he wanted since he saw him outside. Trevor just did his best to balance them both on the tiny bowl and waved his arms around, trying to grab onto something solid. Just as Michael decided to nib on Trevor's lip lightly and open T up for a nice french action, something hit the back of his head with an annoying accuracy. Then it clanked on the ground, followed by choked laughter and sound of plastic rustling. Michael instinctively shot up and stumbled back, massaging the hit place.

"Ouch! T, what the fuck was that?!"

"That was a shower curtain, cupcake... I must have torn it when you tried to flush us both down the bowl..."

"and you won't even say sorry you prick?"

"hmmm, how about showing you how sorry I am?"

Trevor possessed this strange ability to appear out of nowhere and cover M with kisses and hugs. Michael noticed only then how much taller Trevor really was when he was pinned against the shower wall and two hot hands slid past the waist of his jeans, kissing his lower lip too gently for Michael's liking. At first, he went with the flow, burying his fingers to Trevor's stubble and hair on the back of his head just to push him closer. Still, he set his mind to he didn't want it there, slow and gentle with water running down his back, not that night. Michael knew well when he brushes his tongue against Trevor's, pull back and bite his lip, T would not only let out a needy whimper, so unlike his manly growls, but he would also become weak enough to be pushed back to the kitchen where they could have much more fun. What he didn't count with was a nasty crunch under his foot when Trevor stumbled back towards the sink which immediately broke their kiss. A small moan of frustration made Michael more anxious for a moment than he would ever admit.

"What is it, T? Are you ok?"

"Fuck, Michael, you stepped on my laxatives!"

"What?"

"How am I supposed to shit without them?"

"Screw them, you won't need them when I'm done with you tonight."

"Gee how hot..."

But there was no way Michael would let Trevor finish that sentence - all he wanted was to pin him to the kitchen counter, tear those sweatpants apart and fuck him. Now it was him who stomped around, holding Trevor's hand and throwing him to the counter. It took him another second to grab a fist full of his hair and yank Trevor's head backwards to relish absolutely delicious silhouette of his throat with adam's apple bobbing up and down in excitement. Trevor's moans only fired him up further and probed the hardened bud under the black shirt - to a promising whimper and a force pushing him aside to which he willingly succumbed and let a pair of lips suck onto his own so hard he hit his head against a tv stand which cried in pain and fell apart along with the tv.

"Fuck Trevor...."

"Not now, Mikey, don't stop."

Michael felt the telltale twitch under his belly that watered down the pain and gave him enough power to roll over a couple of times, french kissing the fuck out of those perfect full lips, drawing nails to Trevor's now naked back and push his head closer. He almost didn't mind when the radio hit the ground and when Trevor threw him onto the table which made their beer spill on the filthy floor. With Trevor on top, latched onto his nipple and running his hand down to his tightened jeans, nothing could stop him from getting what he wanted. As he tried to kick his jeans off, there was a slight sensation on his foot, but nothing very clear. It could have been a cup or something - when suddenly Trevor bolted upwards, and Michael was forced to open his eyes and look into his horrified face.

"Trevor I swear this isn't funny, what is it this time..."

"Michael, we broke the Impotent Rage..."

"T are you trying to give me blue balls or what?"

"No, but you clearly want my home in shambles! Oh fuck look at that! This was a limited edition with a signature of the original cast!"

Trevor just emotionlessly bolted towards the couch, next to which lay a mass of broken blue plastic that might have been anything in Michael's opinion. And it was in the way of reaching destination orgasm which made him a tiny bit mad. Ok, maybe a lot.

"Pardon me, but it was you who put it to the wrong place! Why did you leave it on the shelf with all this trash? Why don't you just throw all this shit out?"

And with just one swing of the arm, he managed to throw the rest of Trevor's memorabilia to the floor where it shattered comfortably.

"And this whole place is a fucking dump! Have you ever heard about wall-mounted TV or glass shower door? When the fuck will you live somewhere normal? Jesus, what do I have to break to make this place look decent? And that stupid action figure? What's so special about it, anyway?"

He wouldn't regret it if Trevor didn't turn around with puppy eyes and didn't tell him in his hurt voice.

"Because it was a gift from you..."

Michael didn't quite know how he managed to pick Trevor up from the ground, bring him to the bed, plant gentle kisses to every inch of him and whisper he's so so sorry. He didn't even have to, because soon enough, Trevor pulled him closer again, rolled over on top of him and gave him a lesson from Canadian french that left Michael breathless. He just let it happen, running his hands all the way down from the back of Trevor's head, to feeling his stuble, chest hair, hard nipples and his raging boner, and his nails draw new tattoos on Trevor's back first and then drawing his fingers into soft inside of Trevor's tights enjoying the view of T riding him.

"Hey M..."

"Hm?"

Michael lit a cigarette, just relishing the sweaty and sticky afterglow with Trevor pressed close to his side.

"You broke my impotent rage, gimme that..."

And before he could say or do anything, Trevor snatched his last cigarette and inhaled so deep half of it was gone.

"Hey! Give it back!"

"Make me!"

Michael instantly shot up, determined to kiss that grin off Trevor's lips and lept forward only to bang his head against the headboard again. This time, Trevor didn't even try to hold back and let his bubbly laughter echo in Michael's aching head.

"Fuck you and fuck this damn trailer..."

"aww come on porkchop, you did both tonight - unless you are up for the round two?"

"Hmmm... Make me..."

#Trikey #kissing prompts #real_fanta_sea.fic

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lightningbugqueensfics · 3 years

Text

Real Family

Destiel

From the prompt “Cas beating the crap out of john winchester for causing dean so much trauma”(thanks @beautifulsaladkitten !)

*********

When John Winchester comes back from the dead, we get a better look into the harm he inflicted on Dean as a child. Castiel is a good boyfriend.

tw: Homophobic slurs and abuse

Ao3 Link

Dean woke to pounding on the front door. He had chosen this room specifically because it was so close to the entryway of the Bunker, but nights like this it bit him in the ass. Here he was, finally getting a good night's sleep, Cas wrapped around his back, and some idiot hunter just had to show up in the middle of the night. They could’ve at least had the decency to wait until morning.

Cas grumbled against his neck, obviously hearing the noise too. Despite still being an angel, ever since they had gotten together Cas had really taken a liking to sleep.

“Stay here, babe,” Dean murmured, “I got it.”

He rolled out of bed and trudged his way to the door. He yanked it open, still grumbling under his breath about “ stupid young hunter with no regard for their elders. ”

As he walked down the hall, Sam joined him.

“Hey man, I’ve got this, you can go back to Cas,” he offered.

“Nah, I’m up already. Who do you think it is?”

“Claire?” Sam asked.

“No, she’s on a Tulpa hunt in San Francisco with Kaia.”

“Ah, young love,”

“Haha, yeah. Charlie?” Dean asked.

“Remember, her and Stevie are on their honeymoon in Colorado.” The wedding had been beautiful. Both brides radiated joy, and nearly everyone (including Dean, though he would never admit it) cried. How Stevie managed to convince Charlie to go somewhere so far out of cell range still escaped Dean, but hey, it seemed like they were having fun.

“Still?”

“Yeah, they found a hunt up there the day they were gonna leave.”

“That’s rough.” Dean said.

“Actually, they seemed pretty excited. ‘First hunt as a married couple’ and all that.”

“Yeah, well, if that happened to Cas and I, you would be taking care of it.” Dean grunted as they reached the War Room.

“So, have you thought about it?” Sam asked carefully, “You know, asking him to marry you? Fully retiring?” The brothers and Cas were already partially retired, only taking hunts near the Bunker and mainly helping with the research. They were like the new Bobby’s. It was amazing how far they’d come.

“I mean, yeah,” he admitted, “I think I’d like that. I don’t think very soon, but eventually. We wasted so much time already, it’d be nice to make it official.”

Their conversation was cut off as they reached the big iron door. Sam stood in front of his brother to open it, and his back went ramrod straight the second he saw who was at the door. Dean peeked over his ginormous shoulder and felt the blood drain from his face.

“Dad?”

Dean’s voice hurt him. It was like just the sight of their father turned him back into that obedient little kid, who always did what his father told him to. He was so much more than that now.

“Boys?” John asked, “Why do you look so… old?” Sam was still speechless, so Dean took charge. Fifteen years had passed and it was exactly the same.

“How are you alive?”

“I was with your mother, heaven, I think, there was this bright like, and then poof, here I am. Standing right outside this big ass metal door.”

“Um, Dad, what year do you think it is?”

“2006. Why? How long has it been, boys?”

“It’s uh, 2020 now. What was the last thing you remember?” he asked his dad, then said to Sammy: “Get the holy water, silver, and borax. We can do more tests later.”

“2020?” John asked, shocked, “What the hell?”

“Dad,” Dean said, trying to sound firmer, “What was the last thing you remember before being with mom?”

“The hospital. My deal with Yellow Eyes. I died, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did. Then you came back as a ghost to kill the demon, then we went back in time and met you a couple of times, then you came back because of a wishing pearl that we had to destroy because it screwed with time. Things have gotten a lot more complicated since you left.”

Sam showed up with the borax and holy water, which he splashed on John’s face, then he handed him the silver knife, still silent. After a cut proving his humanity, John turned back into a commander.

“Tell me everything. Now, Dean.”

So Dean did. He told him about the end of the hunt for Azazel, about going to hell, about Angels, about the plan to free Lucifer, and about the first Apocalypse. He told him about the deal with Crowely, about the Leviathans, about Purgatory, about Abbadon, and Metatron. He told him about becoming a demon, killing Death and Hitler, and freeing the Darkness. He told him about Chuck, Rowena, and Jack. He told him about Mary coming back and the apocalypse world. He told him everything.

The only thing he left out was his relationship with Cas and that Cas was an angel, because John was sure to meet the man soon, and that would not be a fun conversation if he knew.

Dean had no delusions that John would approve of his relationship with another man, let alone one that wasn’t human. Hell, his father was one of the main reasons Dean took so long to own up to his feelings.

“So you’re telling me,” John said slowly, “That you two started--and ended--the apocalypse… more than once? Once… because you,” he pointed at Sam, “got addicted to demon blood , and then again because you,” he pointed at Dean, “actually became a demon.” The brother nodded.

“You IDIOTS!” he roared, and Dean flashed back to his childhood. Drunken rages. Thrown beer bottles. Old bruises on his arm blamed on a werewolf, the only thought going through his head protect Sammy . “YOU FUCKING MORONS! Dean - A demon? You became the monster! God, I hope Sammy hunted you,” Sam started to rise to his feet, presumably to defend his brother, when John turned his gaze on the younger brother, “And you ! That demon was right! I told Dean to kill you, he should’ve! Drinking demon blood , Sam? You’ve got to know how broken you are! I was gone, what, two years? You even regret what you did? I bet you don’t you sick bas-”

“SHUT UP!” Dean yelled, shocking himself. John looked just as surprised.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said,” Dean replied, his voice somehow steady, despite the pounding in his chest, “Shut up. You can yell at me, you can tell me how broken I am--God knows that’s the truth--but you don’t do that to Sam. He tried, okay? He tried so hard but I abandoned him. You abandoned him. He’s a good man. All he ever wanted was a normal life, and he never got that. Because of you . So don’t you ever blame him for things that you caused. The pain you put us through. You did this, not us!”

“Get out of my sight,” John growled.

Dean stalked past him, catching sight of Cas in the doorway.

“Is everything alright, Dean?” he asked, “I heard yelling. Is that your father?”

“Yeah, it is,” Dean barked, without the same bite in his tone he had used on John. Cas, perfect as always, followed Dean down the hallway to their room. The tears stung his eyes before he even made it through the door.

Dean sank to the edge of their bed, tears flowing down his cheeks.

“Dean,” Cas was on his knees beside the hunter, a hand resting on his leg, “What happened?”

“He’s back” Dean choked out, “And it’s the same, Cas! I thought we… changed, you know? Got better, stronger. I thought I would be enough to s-stop him!”

“Stop him?”

“From hurting Sammy. Cas… he-he used to hit me. Not Sammy, that I know of, but, not all the bruises I got were from hunts. He would come home drunk and angry, and would always blame me if Sammy got hurt. Even if it was his fault!” Cas rose up and brought him into a hug, “I never stopped him. He did it till Sammy went to college. Then he just left me. I thought, maybe, if he ever came back…. I could finally do something,” he sniffled, “but I guess that’s proof that I’m still the same scared little boy.”

“No, no, no,” Cas whispered into his hair, “Dean, you are the bravest man I have ever met. I heard what you said to him. Dean, that was bravery! That was you standing up for your little brother. Could you have done that fifteen years ago?” Dean shook his head, still crying, “So you see, love? You grew. You are stronger. He hurt you, but you are still here. Still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester.”

“I love you, Cas,” Dean murmured as he shifted his head into the crook of the angel’s neck.

“Come on, Dean, let’s go to bed. We can talk about this more in the morning.”

Dean nodded his head, and Cas maneuvered him under the covers, still wrapped in his angels arms.

With that they settled in to sleep. Dean fell into a peaceful slumber, completely unaware of the fury coursing through Castiel’s veins.

**************

Dean woke to pounding on the door. He grunted, knowing what was coming, and knowing that it was even worse to put it off. He forced himself out of bed and made his way to the door, still half asleep.

If he had been fully awake he might have realized the mistake he was making.

The door opened to reveal John Winchester’s still beet red face, this time the intoxicated kind. It seemed like the few hours since their fight had done nothing to calm him down.

“What do you want?” Dean asked, voice slurred with sleep.

“I want you to explain to me what that was last night!!”

“Can we do this in like, an hour?” he grunted, “I’m gonna need a shower and a cup of coffee to deal with…” he vaguely gestured at John.

“Do you think this is a laughing matter, boy? We need to-” he glanced behind Dean, “Who is that ?”

“That’s Cas.” Oh shit . Dean’s eyes widened with incredible speed and he reached the slam to door shut.

John’s hand shot open and caught it before it could close.

“The same Cas who’s a ‘hunter buddy’ of yours?” his face was now turning an alarming shade of purple as he strode into the room. Dean backed up, flinching away from his father. He heard rustling in the bed, Cas was sitting up.

“You mean to tell me that not only has your brother gotten addicted to demon blood, and you actually became a demon, some hunter turned you into a FUCKING QUEER?” John roared. Dean just kept inching backwards, that same fear from his childhood rearing its head inside of him.

“God, Dean, I knew you were fucked in the head, but this? Sleeping around with some fag, what did they do to you? I knew you were too much like your mom, always a little pansy,” his voice was slurring, just like it did before every beating when Dean was young, “Who knows, maybe I can beat it out of you?” Dean was on the floor beside the bed now, frozen, just like he was back then. Nothing had changed.

As John reared his arm back, ready to bring it down on Dean's face, a calm but lightning fast hand stopped it in its tracks.

Castiel stood beside Dean. His face was devoid of any emotion, but from the look on John’s face, his hand was squeezing enough to hurt. Still dressed in his bumblebee pajama pants and Dean’s AC/DC shirt, he didn’t look dangerous. Dean knew better. John did not.

“Get your hands off me you fucking faggot!” the man snarled.

“No. You will not hurt Dean.”

“Who are you to stop me?”

“I’m the person who saved him. I’m the one who gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. I’m the one who picked up the pieces of that incredible man you broke and helped him fit them back together. I have loved him more than you are even capable of, so I’d say I have every right to stop you.” Castiel growled the words.

“Let me go, you son of a bitch!” John still wasn’t backing down. Castiel pushed him against a wall with one hand still holding John’s fist and the other arm pressed against his throat.

“I’m an angel you ass.” Castiel’s eyes glowed blue, like they did right before smiting someone. He was the most furious Dean had ever seen him.

“You’re a-” John cut off, “You mean to tell me that not only is Dean fucking a man, you’re not even human ? God, you really are fucked in the head, boy.” Castiel pressed harder on his trachea.

“Dean is not ‘fucked in the head’ as you say. He is a kind and loyal man, no thanks to you. He is no longer your son, John Winchester. You made sure to beat that out of him. Sam and I, and the people we have found and lost along the way, we are his family. We care about him. We love him. That’s more than you can ever say!”

“Dean,” he gasped out, “tell this monster to stop! I’m your father for christ’s sake!” Dean rose unsteadily to his feet. Heart beating faster than on most hunts, adrenaline coursing through him, Dean did the one thing he had always wanted to do but never had the courage for.

“No,” he said.

“No?”

“No. Cas is right. You only ever hurt me, Dad. It was always ‘protect Sammy,’ ‘do this,’ ‘do that.’ You never cared about me, Dad! You just wanted a good little soldier! You ruined me even more than this life did, than hell did.

“So, no. I let you walk all over me for my entire life. I let you abuse me into my twenties! But you can’t hurt Cas. You can’t hurt one of the few people in my life who genuinely cares about me. He’s made me a better person, he’s healed the damage you did. I love him, and if you can’t accept that and finally become a decent father, then you can get out. Leave. Never come back. I don’t want to see your face again.” Dean pointed at the door, hand shaking with nerves and fury.

Castiel removed his arms from a shell-shocked John. The man stared at Dean with fury and pain in his eyes.

He nodded jerkily and trudged out the door.

Dean watched him go, mind blank. The shaking got worse, and he fell back to sit on the edge of the bed.

Cas settled beside him and wrapped Dean up in his arms, silent for a time. When he finally spoke, he knew just what to say.

“I’m proud of you, Dean,” he murmured, to no response, “I know it doesn’t feel good now, but you did the right thing. He’s gone now, and you can move forward. We can do it together.”

“Thank you, Cas,” Dean said into his chest, “For… stopping him, but also for what you said. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my love. I meant every word. Now, why don’t you get into bed and I’ll bring you a cup of coffee,”

“Peppermint hot chocolate?” Dean asked.

“Of course, Dean.” With that, Cas left to fetch their drinks and, Dean was sure, to make certain John had left. Cas was perfect in that way.

With Cas gone, Dean was left alone with his thoughts. He realized how far he’d come. Even in these fifteen years since he went and got Sam at Stanford.

He used to water down his coffee with whiskey. Now he was asking for hot cocoa. He would find a new girl every week, sometimes even more often, and wouldn’t even know their names. Now he was in a steady relationship with a guy (well, angel) who he loved more than anything. He used to let John hurt him in any way he wanted to. Now he was the one who kicked him out.

He wasn’t perfect. Wasn’t even close. But he was so much better than he used to be. And Dean knew why.

He found good people. Sam. Jody, Claire, Donna, Charlie, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Garth, and so many more. Cas. They made him better. They loved him, and helped him start to love himself.

Cas returned with two cups held carefully in his hands, a concentrated crease between his brows. He silently shuffled into place beside Dean. The angel passed over the cocoa, put his arm around his shoulder, and gave him a little peck on the cheek.

For the rest of the day the two watched movies and funny tv shows on Dean’s iPad. They cuddled and kissed and joked. It was perfect.

Because, yeah, John had screwed Dean up. But the people in Dean’s life were fixing that. And they were the people that mattered. His real family.

Tags: @beautifulsaladkitten @icesoulprincess @themoosegoes-deanicandothis @deano-cas @when-humans-were-good

#Destiel #fic #writing #Dean #Castiel #Sam #John Winchester #abuse #fanfic #Ao3

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atinybitofau · 4 years

Text

[ateez] W O O Y O U N G ➳ aesthetic love

“starry night and a midnight drive”

• it’s not everyday a woman runs from her fiancé.

• it’s definitely not everyday you want to run from the man you love.

• yet here you are.

• running on bare feet, white pearl heels hanging loose from your fingertips through a house he promised was gonna be yours.

• you knew it well enough for someone who hated it.

• hated the smell.

• hated the look.

• hated what was in it.

• the man who owned it by far the only good thing about it.

• you sprint like that was the only thing you knew how to do,

• until you’re stopped in the middle of a poorly lit garage, two cars and a dark suited man waiting for you at its passenger doors.

• “Hey gorgeous, I think you took a wrong turn on your way to the venue.”

• you feel your heart strings being pulled tens of different directions,

• biting down at your trembling lip, veil sardonically dangling over your stained leaking eyes.

• “Wooyoung, I—“

• “Let’s take a drive shall we?”

• he gets in first, engine roaring when the key kisses the ignition,

• being the second thing he loved after you.

• and you’re not supposed share him.

• you sure as hell don’t want to and that’s the reason you were going to leave in the first place.

• but the thought of spending time with the man you love was the only thing keeping you from leaving.

• and it seems that no matter what you do, you’ll always be right there in his passenger seat.

• counting the stars in the sky and having him drive you to a place where no one but you two can go.

• “I love you.”

• he says the words for you like it hurts.

• “And if you want to leave me, I’ll let you.” his voice breaks and you can feel the curdling pressure of his hands on the steering wheel as if it were you. “Sweetheart, I never intended for you to feel obliged to love me, yeah? And I know sometimes you don’t but—“

• you turn your face underneath the white veil over your head and place a hand over his,

• the rumble of the stick that controlled the car and controlled him relaxed underneath your touch.

• his fingers grips get lost between fighting to hold yours and keeping the stick in it’s right place.

• you don’t flinch even when he moves it back to first gear, eyes stuck on him.

• “Let’s just drive okay?”

• the car gets quiet while you hold him steady.

• and when you reach the destination, he seems afraid to let the car go.

• “Come with me.” you move yourself out of his vehicle and out into what feels like freedom,

• looking down at the city you found him in, wondering how you could’ve been so lucky.

• yet why you can’t decide over where you want to be and who you want to love.

• “Maybe I’m selfish.” you whisper, white lace touching the swollen parts of your moving lips. “Maybe I don’t want to spend my entire life in the confinement of your damned car and your damned house.”

• Wooyoung stands behind you, hands buried in his pockets wondering,

• — seeing the gorgeous night beyond your beautiful figure,

• why his eyes solely bound to you.

• “Maybe I can’t stand who you are and what you do.” you fight back the remaining tears you had to appreciate the view right in front of you. “I don’t know how you do it, Woo. How you could love two things at once.”

• he wants to say it’s not his choice.

• that it’s not in his control when actually that was exactly what was happening.

• he could make sacrifices for you but their too little for comfort.

• to put it frankly, it’s not enough.

• “I fell in love with the city before you.” your eyes close softly when the autumn night breeze hits your bare skin. “I fell in love with the stars. And then god forbid I ever choose a man in place of those— no, I fell in love with you.”

• Wooyoung’s tongue runs across the surface of his teeth wondering when he should stop leaning against his car and start leaning over you.

• “The moment I got in your car that day, I was thinking how ugly of a thing it was. The sound it made and how it ruined my night.” your lips curl in devious remark. “I can’t stand your car, babe. It’s just not for me.”

• he feels the heat of the hood start to burn his fingertips,

• suddenly realizing that sometimes he’s got to sacrifice the other things he loved in order to have you.

• “I love the stars. I love the sky, the sound of the city, the freedom I get.” your own fingertips feel cold, bare in the the evening breeze, looking for some kind of warmth out of nothing at all. “If I had to choose.. between loving you and getting the rest, baby, I don’t what to do.”

• Wooyoung finally lets go.

• rushing to hold you when you look like you’re about to fall.

• never trusted the rusted rails you leant on as much as he did himself.

• but he reached for you and whips you around to look at him the way you look up at the night sky.

• the only way he’d be able to appreciate the beauty of the stars is if it was right there—

• reflecting off the eyes of the woman he loves.

• “I know– Fuck.” Wooyoung’s rasp gets thicker when he speaks. “I know this isn’t easy. I know loving me is hard for you, sweetheart. Driving my car means more to me than anything. You know that.”

• your breath hitches at the back of your throat wanting to say, choose me or you’ll never get to have me.

• an ultimatum based solely on retaliation.

• pain.

• but you’re lost in his eyes the way the stars lose you.

• the moon the only thing ironically keeping you sane right now.

• “I’m gonna fucking break that thing apart one day, Woo.” your voice cracks in place of comforting words. “I don’t trust myself to be living with that stupid thing for my entire life and having to share it with you. Believe me, I’m gonna smash that thing to bits.”

• Wooyoung’s lips curl, hands crawling over your cold skin. “Then break it. How many times you want, I’ll give that to you.”

• “Why?” a silent sob escapes your lips while he fights to keep your eyes. “Why would you let me do that? Why would you let me hurt something you love so much?”

• you want him to tell you he’s gonna choose that thing—

• his cars.

• his life.

• but Wooyoung never makes it easy for you.

• being able to drive his car x mph.

• driving your heart ten times faster than horsepower at this point.

• “That thing I love, my cars. Y/n, I can fix those things. I can pick up the pieces if not buy a new one.”

• he brings the veil from over your eyes, over so he get a good look at you.

• and it may not be at the alter where he wanted you but if it has to be here,

• if he has to promise to have and hold you till death do you both part right here then so be it.

• “I can’t fix you.” the black haired vixen leans his forehead against yours as you finally warm under the cold breeze of the night. “I can’t buy a new you— something my power, my money can never buy. If I had to choose right now what I love more, y/n, believe me you’re first in line.”

• you cry when his lips brush against yours.

• feeling your heart suddenly tugged in a single direction.

• that direction being towards his.

• “I love you so much.” Wooyoung’s about to break right in front of you afraid to lose you to the night. “My car gets me to point a and point b.”

• “Then why do you need me?”

• “You take me beyond my dreams, sweetheart. And you still want to ask me why I need you?”

• he kisses you and maybe you were wrong.

• maybe you shouldn’t hate his car that much.

• in fact, that stupid retched thing was the reason you managed to find him in the first place,

• without it, never being able to meet the man you love.

• and maybe you did love the city and the freedom you get in it.

• but maybe you’re okay with settling in his arms instead.

• “I want to kiss you until my lips bleed.” you pout bending into his height like that’s where you were meant to be. “I want you to hold me until you don’t want to do anything but hold me forever.”

• Wooyoung chuckles over your breath before spinning you around in his arms, chin laying against the crook of your neck.

• “We were supposed to get married tonight.” he mumbles against your skin. “I don’t know about you but I’m suddenly not in the mood to go back just yet.”

�� you lean your head back against the rising and falling chest of your fiancé,

• his heart feeling like a steady metronome.

• “I kind of want get out of this dress for a little bit.” your chin tilts up to look at him. “I don’t know about you but I was thinking your car serves more purpose than just driving it.”

• Wooyoung’s eyes darken but his lips move a different way.

• “The moon takes a toll on you, sweetheart.”

• “Take me while you sit in the drivers seat.” your fingers slowly move to pull the suit jacket right off his shoulder blades. “Show me those hands can do more than just shift gears, baby.”

• “As long as I get to marry you tomorrow, by all means, I’ll show you what these hands can do.”

• not like he’s never shown you before but hey,

• nothing’s ever wrong with a free ride.

@atinybitofau

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pearlplusau · 4 years

Text

Chapter 6 - Part 1, Trip down memory lane

At the crystal gem temple, the sky proceeds its early air breeze and pink hue, the sea proceeds to come and go, the sand proceeds its existence not as grains, but as a land.

The temple door glows, a thin stem but with pointy thorns glow rose from the midst of the door and separated the door left and right. From the pink glow, out comes Coral, stretching and yawning from lying on her neat pile of pink fabric for a few hours. As she walks out of the door, she sees Rose, the leader of the crystal gem, in her glorious white dress and thick fluffy, curly pink hair, standing right at the foot of the warp pad.

“Morning Coral~!” she called out with a tone that makes you think she’s a Disney princess in the woods, “Ready for our new day planned?”

“Of course! What did you have in mind?” Coral questioned, but still standing at the doorway.

“Well, before we actually go, can you recall anything from the, “incident”?” Rose formed her words very carefully, hoping that it won't upset her dear pearl.

“Hmm…” Coral tried to remember, she really does, but all there was between her leaving and coming back on the shore was pitch black, nothing.

It’s been a week since the incident, Coral still couldn’t recall what happened to her, facing some sort of memory loss. “I…I just can’t remember, the only possible reason why I left in the middle of the night is to go for a midnight fabric shopping?”

Rose was worried for her, she even consulted Garnet if there’s anything she saw that involves Coral’s sudden disappearance.

Garnet, the fusion with extraordinary abilities, was unable to see how she couldn’t foresee the incident, nor could she see any upcoming battles or fights in the near future. She’s becoming more frustrated, which decreases her vision clarity day by day. “There wasn’t anything on the night she left, and there isn’t anything dangerous that could be coming our way, or maybe there’s something I’m not factoring in? Hmmm…”

Hearing Coral’s response was not gonna ruin their day planned. For the past week, Coral was invited by Rose to different places, trying to see if there’s any way she can remember anything, but so far, no luck.

“It…it’s okay, don’t worry about that too much.” Rose tried to reassure, to herself more than to Coral. “Let’s start the day, shall we?”

“Ok, where are we going today?” Coral asked, fully awake. They travelled to many places for the past week, and everyday it's somewhere rarely visited, but the experience in travelling with Rose is very, very new.

Rose started to say, “Well, for today, we’ll be-“but she was interrupted before she could finish.

“Pardon the intrusion,” It was Pearl.

Pearl poked her head in from outside, trying her best not to interrupt but failed, “Rose, can I talk to you for a moment?” Rose turned and saw Pearl, who was trying her best not to throw any daggers at the other pink gem’s direction. “There’s the matter of… corrupted gems. Garnet foresees two giant gem-worms, trolling around the old kindergarten, and she said the best outcome from the capture requires you to be there.”

Pearl however, was initially more concern with Coral and her every step, but after a day or two she got very much over her guilt and tries to forget the incident ever happened, she resumed disregarding her in the more dangerous missions with Garnet, even though she was not keen in breaking her promise to the team leader.

The leader of the crystal gems gently refused the mission, “Apologies my pearl, but I should really focus on Coral’s situation right now, if we don’t find out where or what happened to her, the same thing might happen to the rest of us, and I would not wish for anyone else to suffer whatever Coral went through.”

“But Rose, just look at her, she’s fine, she wasn’t hurt, the warp pad to homeworld is still disabled, there's nothing else for us to worry about.” Pearl tried to reason with the big gem, but her heavy, dark eyes told her there's nothing that she can say that would change her mind.

“I’m sorry Pearl but it looks like you and Garnet are going to take care of the gem monster, I’m sure you two can handle it without me.” Rose threw a quick glance at Coral, urging her to follow her elsewhere.

“Come on Coral, we’ll talk on the way there.” She led the pink gem on the warp pad and they both warped away.

The path taken is a lot more... dangerous than the previous adventures they had.

The duo walked until there's a giant mountain of a wall in front of them. Rose gestured to Coral to climb the steep mountain.

“Uhm, Rose, you didn’t have to spend so much time for me, Pearl and Garnet need you more on the gem hunt.” Coral looked nervous, scratching her head, and trying to look away from her leader.

“But, Coral, you're not a waste of time if that’s what you're thinking, your problem is just as important as the gem monster, who’s probably harmless since there's no humans or other earth critters around there.” Rose reassured the pearl and they to climb up the mountain.

It was a long climb, but Coral was upbeat and a lot more energetic after being reassured, and they got to the cave full of Rose’s weapon collection.

“Huh, can’t believe we would need to come back here after the war, '' she watched as her leader walked to the white platform covered in water, a hand size pedestal rose up to the pink gems waist. Rose placed her hand on the top of the pedestal and concentrated, “I’m not looking for weapons, armour, or anything for battle, I just need something that can help me and my situation.”

Behind Coral, a small white box rose up to her ankle.

“Uhh, Rose, is this what you’re looking for?” Coral called out and got her leader’s attention.

Rose turned to where Coral stood, “I…I think so.”

They examined the small, palm sized box, it was the size of Coral’s gem, but somehow heavier, there was a little mark for the box to be opened.

Rose opened the lid, and peeked the inside of the box.

It’s….

“A pebble?” And sure enough, it was a small, oval rock that hasn’t been incubated or dripped with any diamond essence.

“You know,” Coral carefully paused and observed the stone, said, “This pebble looks so familiar, doesn’t it remind you of someone? I know I mentioned that I can't recall recent events, but the great memories we had in our past lives is still something I can never forget.”

She slowly raises the pebble up to her eye level, hoping Rose would marvel the stone along with her. But something was not right…

Coral turned to her leader, hoping for some kind of reaction, but she was surprised to see the shocking darken expression of Rose Quartz.

“Uhm, Rose, are you… alright?” the pearl questioned.

She could see the big gem was holding on to something, holding it back. It was still daylight, but being inside the cave made it felt, dark. There were the sounds of water drops dripping from the ceiling poles, “Drip……. drip…….. drip….” into the clear, shallow pool.

Moments later, Rose’s expression shifted from stiff and dread to….hope?

“Why yes Coral, I think I am…” Her hope slowly transitions into, joy? “You know, one of the pebbles back at homeworld looks just like this one.”

Coral was glad she wasn’t being rude by mentioning their past lives. “Ohhh, the one with the green outfit? What was the name, Pebble 2TJ?”

Rose looked, actually thrilled! “Oh yeah, he’s always doing this neat cartwheel all around the room, it looked so fun, heyhey, what if…”

Rose was rather hyped, she got so excited she decided to do the cartwheel, for the first time.

She extended her arms and legs, forming a star figure, and said to the pink gem on the left, “Hey Coral, look at this!” She tilted her whole body to her right, but her hand didn’t catch the total amount of her body weight and slipped,

THUD! Rose quartz collapsed on the floor.

“Ohno! Rose!” Coral panicked and went to the fallen pink gem, “Rose! Are you alright?”

Rose, who positioned herself on her back to ease the pain, she giggled and said, “Yes, I think I'm fine.”

She proceeds to stay on the floor, Coral wasn’t sure what to do, “Uhm, Rose, do you need help getting up?” Coral asked.

“Oh no need, in fact, you should come down with me, we’ve been standing for a long time, and my legs are a bit tired anyway.” She sat down next to her leader.

“You know, that fall reminded me of another time we had, when we tried to balance the throne on a giant ball to make it bouncy, but it somehow ended up on fire or something, what fun times we had.” Rose chuckled at the amazing memories they made together.

Coral decided to add on to favourite moments and said, “Remember when you got your leg ship? You were so happy you grabbed me by the waist and spun me around, and I didn’t even mind, it was such a fun time.”

The pearl peeked at the big gem, who was peeking into the box under the pebble.

“Oh look, in the box, there's three sticks in white, yellow and blue respectively.” Each stick has a shape of the respective diamonds, the blue and yellow stick have their diamond placed in the middle, and the white stick has its on the top.

“Huh…” Coral took a closer inspection of the three items and asked, “What are these? And why do you have them?”

Rose was scanning through her memory bank, they do look familiar… “I think these are from the early stages of the earth colonization, I got so bored on the moon I think I asked Pearl if there was anything we could do, she said the game was from an earth citizen back in the day.”

Rose went on about the game. “Pearl announced the game as gem refiguration, we picked them up, and imitated the gems in their tone, actions and their voices. There’s this one time where I made the white stick talk like White, Oh Starlight, there you are! Did you have fun? Did you get it all out of your system? And then Pearl would chuckle at my little fake white voice, saying that I sound just like her. We would play as the other diamonds too, Pearl knew Blue and Yellow’s pearls, she even did their voices! I would hold up a yellow stick, making it command in Yellow’s voice, then pearl would do her little hologram thing and say things their pearls would say, Now how is my wonderlous, amazing, everlasting diamond? Is there anything I can do for you? And we would both chuckle and giggle as we are indirectly making fun of them without them knowing! And- Coral whats wrong?”

Rose slowly noticed the discomfort as the story went on, she went from being interested in listening, to losing the smile, to worrying eyes, to a sudden darkened face.

“Oh! It's…it’s nothing, it’s just…as I was listening, I couldn’t help but wonder where I was while it all happened…”

“Well, you would be there obviously, just…not with us?” Rose scratched her head, hoping to retrieve some form of adequate response. “You were right with me, but you got bored a bit earlier and kinda fell asleep? We didn’t want to bother you so we just... played it on our own…”

Coral had her left hand scratching her right arm, “So…You guys had fun…. without me?”

Rose slowly realizes the pain she’s causing her dear pearl, she wanted to say she misspoke but Coral got to her first.

“Nonono, it's fine, i…I guess, I just, never thought….”

She turned to her side, arms holding her knees to her chin, and laid on the floor, trying to think this through.

Rose tried to reach her hand out, she wanted to assure that game was nothing, but deep down, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead she retracted her reaching hand, and placed it to her side, giving Coral some much needed space.

It was awfully quiet for the both of them, the sticks had scrambled around with the box on its side, only the pebble remained in the box. Rose collected the items and put everything back where it was, and sat by the water alone.

Coral noticed the shift of her leader, and followed her by sitting next to her by the water.

Rose and Coral looked at their reflections in the water, they stared at the water for a long time, until…

“Remember the first day you came to me?” Rose spoke while looking at Coral’s reflection, hoping she would do the same.

“It was some time after I saw Blue and Yellow’s pearls, I saw how considerate of them with their diamonds, how they were always with their diamonds, standing by their side no matter what. That’s what I wanted, someone who can listen and understand.”

Coral gleamed at the idea, and commented, “Yeah, Us spending time together was the best, but then, someone else came along…”

Oh dear, Rose thought, is it the reason for the memory loss, trying to forget certain aspects of her life? The pearl continued, “Maybe I wasn’t doing my part right? Maybe you weren’t satisfied with my service back then? And, that’s why she came to….”

Rose didn’t need to hear the end of the sentence, she already knew what she was going to say.

Replace me…

Rose couldn’t take anymore of her sadness, she turned to the pearl, grabbed on her shoulders, and hugged her tight. “Oh Coral, I'm so sorry I made you feel this way, i should’ve been more considerate. But when Pearl came in, I was… told to spend more time with her, to get to know her, so she wont feel like an outsider when she’s with us.”

Coral slowly returned the hug, burying her face into her leader’s hair, wishing she could stay there forever. But it was getting late, and they should really head back.

“Come on, let's go home.” They left the cave, went down the steep mountain, and back on the warp pad.

Back at the temple, the duo was met up with Pearl and Garnet back from their mission. The two gems were covered in sand and dust.

“Ah, Pearl and Garnet, how did the mission go?” the crystal gem leader turned to her fellow comrades and asked.

Garnet shrugged, dusting off the dust from her shoulder, “Could’ve been better.”

Pearl echoed, “Could have…”

Coral noticed Pearl’s defeated sigh, but Rose didn’t take much notice, “Excellent, If anyone needs me I’ll be in my room.” And marched straight to her cloudy pink room and promptly shut the door within a swift second.

She heavily leans on the door, “Why did it hurt so much?” Rose thought as she leaned against the closed door, her fist on her chest, trying to ease a pain.

Garnet decided to go out and take a walk, leaving the 2 pearls at the temple.

Coral was still in her hyper fun mood as she was humming, twirling and just being happy, something she hasn’t been in a long time. Standing on the side, watching her was Pearl, arms crossed, and generally not looking as happy.

She slowly approached the pink gem, and gained her attention with a slight cough.

“Ahem,” and slowly moves her fist away from her mouth.

Coral, still looking pleased, and not getting the pragmatic signs, lovingly asks, “Oh hey Pearl! What’s up?”

“You know this will pass eventually don’t you?” Pearl spoke, trying her best to not sound rude, but came off as a rather cruel statement.

“Huh?” Coral turned around, and hadn't really noticed Pearl during her time with Rose. “Wha…what are you talking about?” Coral questions in a strain voice, sounding almost hurt, but Pearl didn’t take notice.

“I think you know what I’m talking about, your small, brief attention hogging from Rose. She may be worried sick about your absence and the possible chance your encounter threatens what’s we’re fighting for, but for all we know, you could just be deceiving us, deceiving her just to keep her all to yourself.” Pearl’s accusation of Coral surprised the pink gem.

She tried to defend herself, “Pearl, you’re not making any sense. Why would I want to lie to Rose just to get close to her? We were just hanging out and having fun...”

“No more lies,” Pearl interrupted, “instead of trying to sweet talk your way out of this mess, why don’t we try something, physical?” She reached her hand to her glowing gem and conjured her staff, swifting the point to the tip of Coral’s nose.

“Coral! I challenge you to a duel at the sky arena, pearl vs pearl. If you win, I’ll let you off on your little scheme and you may…continue deceiving our leader without me getting all over your business.”

She did a slight thrust and pointed the tip between Coral’s eyes, forcing her to back off and smack the weapon aside.

Pearl retracted her weapon and twirled it all around her while she proceeded, “But if I win, you’re going to halt your devious act and leave the rebellion for the rest of time, you are to resign as Rose’s left hand soldier and never come back. Your disloyalty has already stripped you of your trust in the Crystal Gems, if you will not accept this challenge, I have no choice but to take you down before you do anything else, do you understand!?”

Coral stood and composed herself, she knows how serious Pearl takes her battles with anyone, so she can’t deny it, but she also knows how skilled of a fighter Pearl truly is. They may have trained together, but Pearl was always the fast learner, she also has a strategy for literally anything, so other than the duel, there’s probably something else she’s not revealing.

Coral took a deep breath, exhaled as she fixed her eyes at Pearl, and drew her lance.

CLANK, the weapons were intact.

“I accept your challenge, Pearl.” Coral said with as much determination she could muster.

“Excellent,” Pearl returned her staff into her gem, and slowly walked away while stating, “We shall battle at the breaking dawn of tomorrow, sharpen your lance, as well as your mind.” And then ballerina twirled into her room.

Coral watched as the temple door closed off, her lance planted between her feet as she said to herself, “I’ll be ready.”

End of Part 1

(A/N: Heyyo, welcome to the end of part 1 of chapter 6, first off, to clear something up. If you were somehow questioning my ability to draw, then yes Ii did some tracing on certain screenshots of the show, to make everything go faster. If for every part, I drew just 4 images without tracing, it would take at least 2 more months for me to finish it. So please, i'm not making money out of this, and the artwork isn't the main feature, just a visual assistant for the reading process.

Also thank you @marzipanotaku16 for being my “beta reader” and doing a great job at pointing out certain areas that can do better!

So from the previous post, the next chapter will be uploaded next week from today! Unless, and it's just an idea, unless the first part of chapter 6 got more than 80 notes, then I'll consider posting the next part earlier. But that's just an idea I'm not sure that would be fulfilled. (It might be tho)

Lastly, the reference for the drawn images will be reblogged the next day.

Anyways, see ya next week, or earlier! Peace out! Bye!

#pearlplsuau #stevenuniverse #writing #rosequartz #pinkpearl #Pearl #Coral

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helahades · 3 years

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the sexiest wip list

alright! reminder that this is a dark fic blog. dark fics are not just noncon, but uncomfortable subject matter and questionable thought processes and unreliable povs. control your media experience and read warnings carefully! they’ll be updated when the actual story releases, but these are wips, and i don’t know them all bc I simply have not finished these stories!

some darker warnings on this list include: threats of sexual violence, obsession, death, and previously mentioned unreliable povs from obsessive characters who justify themselves.

final reminder to read warnings! some of these are intense.

1) Jealous Thor (Untitled)

warnings: cheating, mean!reader, angst

You’re falling for Steve right under his nose. Each day, Thor feels you pull farther away. Each night, he squeezes his eyes shut as you lie asleep next to him, and tries to forget the way you lookat Steve these days with hunger and adoration that you once gave to him.

“He is earthly. For all his body’s and mind’s possession of unnatural experimental growth, he is earthly and limited, so Thor can’t understand why you’re drawing away from him, and telling Steve the jokes, giving Steve all the looks that had him hooked. The lingering eyes and touches… they ride the line of decency.”

—

2) Heimdall Angst (Untitled)

warnings: major character death, grief, existentialism, out of body experiences

Connected by incredible wisdom and duty to fate, you and The Gatekeeper of Asgard are pulled together by the unique pairing of your mutual seeing abilities—made for greatness, and destined for tragedy.

This story stretches from the moment that catalyzes your meeting, across the years of loving him, to the moment you lose him.

“A fateful tragedy. He sees an arrow through a dove.

He wonders how he missed your encounter with him in the whispers of the cosmos.

“—They’re star deaths,” you say abruptly, “the ones that move and change color. They speed up when you watch them—show their whole life to come...I read about them. Most can’t ever see them life this”.

Turning to where you stand beside him, his eyes swirl with the magic of knowing you, of your destinies combined. He sees you stare at his stars like they’re new.

“Only us.”

—

3) Away from the Party - Steve Smut

warnings: smut, dubcon, roughness, manipulation, unintentional exhibition

Steve hates these parties. After a mission, the work has just begun, and he fumes at the impossible way that Tony covers all problems in diamonds and pearls. Some things aren’t meant to be pretty.

You are. You’re soft, and kind, and you coax him gently away from the party—the source of his frustrations, with promises of leaving early, of calming down. Oh. He’ll calm down. And you’re just the toy to help. In a closet a corner away from the government’s finest, America’s golden boy has a hand on your throat and one demand.

“Keep quiet.”

“Of course, you both ended up at the party anyway, but with you swirling cool fingertips at his aching temples and rubbing softly over the stretch marks on his chest, he couldn’t find anything in heart to disagree with you then.

Even now with his erection pressed to you through barriers of clothing, with scarcely retrained and monstrous lust, he is steadily calmed by your presence. This rush, the secrecy—it excites him. And you pull him through the haze of it.”

—

4) Monster Thor Headcanons

warnings: wound and gore descriptions, some sadness

The fantasy of it all. Aesthetic, Lifestyle, Behavior. Some talking points include: hair, horns, hints about how he was influenced by a soft and charming lover many years ago, general horniness. Also spoiler that I’ve decided that He is 8ft tall

“Thor is...ancient. he is a being of war and folklore and raw energy and he’s earthy and elemental and connected. and form follows function. (and also whatever horny thoughts we want )”

—

5) The Call

warnings: voyeurism, death threats, obsession, implied sexual assault threats

When Frank comes to visit you, you beam like a sunflower. You’ve rearranged your room, and you’re excited about it. He would like to revel in the moment with you...but he’s caught up in one detail. Your bed is pushed against the window...and he can’t convince you to let him move it.

After a night of sin and wild lovemaking, you lie asleep bathed in moonlight, and Frank wakes to a call. Billy. He’s set up on a rooftop miles away, and he’s got things to say about Frank’s girl and what he’d like to do to her. A red dot on his chest means he can only listen. To your gentle snoring, and to the twisted fantasy of a brother unhinged.

“Black silk pajamas. Hair wrapped up in satin. Yellow light almost like sun stretches to the ceiling, but not quite over the rolling hills of your silhouette turned away from him in quiet sleep.

Frank’s hardly got the time to wonder why he’s awake, because his phone buzzes slow again. Pulls the moment he realizes he will have to break this magic peace to molasses and he half fills his lungs before huffing it out and flipping the phone open and tucked between his ear and shoulder.

“What.”

“She’s a reaaaaal pretty one, Frankie boy. You sure know how to pick em.”

—

6) Loki Longing (Untitled)

warnings: pregnant!fem reader, angst

On the Eve of the birth of Asgard’s heir, Thor is away. In a bath of flowers and magic to ease your pain, maidens worry over you, and Loki rescues you away, letting you rest in bed, and dreaming of the days when you were his lover instead.

“I’d like to rest…in my bed now, please.”

The ladies look to each other. It hasn’t been long enough for the herbs to take effect.

“My Queen,” the eldest starts—

“She is certainly your queen,” a silky silver timbre interrupts, “I’ve learned it’s best to mind her.”

His eyes fall to your form, and some blocked conflict—some guarded affection rests there. Some longing tucked in a pocket like an impossible secret.

—

7) With Child - Obsessive Steve

warnings: pregnant!fem reader, obsessive Steve

Watching you content, and very pregnant, as you gaze adoringly at your husband Thor from where you rest, half in his lap, Steve can’t help but fantasize. He thinks about impregnating you, the mechanics of sex with a pregnant woman, and being the god who does it all.

“Do you have to lie on your side? Is Thor just behind you, spooning you, fucking with desperate thrusts because you drive him so crazy this way? Steve has heard—and he doesn’t know where—that women get wetter when with child. Steve can’t help but wonder...does Thor need to hold one leg up for you—to save your back that’s so often heavy with the weight of supporting his legacy?”

—

8) Dean’s Girl

warnings: unreliable pov (john), voyeurism, masturbation + voyeurism

John notices the way you avoid him. You always seem to leave a room just as he’s coming into it. He’s living in the bunker now, and having to realize a lot of things that have changed for the both of his sons.

For example, his oldest, the last he’d ever think would fall in love, has got a pretty girl that dismisses her practical father in law with pointed boredom. She’s protective—how can he blame her after all that he’d put Dean through?

She’s pretty, and John is only a man, and can’t stop himself from just...looking. It starts with a convenient bend as she unloads the dishwasher...then he..can’t help that the door was open and she happened to be changing right there. He also can’t help it the next time when he’s just a little too obvious, pleasuring himself to the smell of her pretty lace panties.

—

9) Operator, Operator - Steve Smut

warnings: smut, financial troubles?, mentions of creepiness against and danger to sex workers, exhibitionism via phone call

Underpaid and overworked, you along with your roommate/secret crush/ best friend Steve have trouble making ends meet on minimum wage + his art commissions. When you start picking up calls on a phone sex line, he’s able to reason. It’s quick cash, and Steve is mature enough to keep his thoughts appropriate...at first.

One day, he wakes to the sound of breathy moans and a faked orgasms. He wonders how you would sound if only you were high on real pleasure...and there’s no time like the present. Don’t hang up. This call has only just started.

“By the time this year—junior year—swung around, Steve realized he was only catching glimpses of you. He would hear the shake of your keys when you tossed them on the counter, your backpack when it thudded to the floor, and most recently—your moans.

You must not know he’s home. Ever since you started online sex work, specifically being a phone sex operator, you seemed to also make the silent choice that more graphic calls would be saved for when he’s not around.

He gets it. You both split the rent, and Steve has done jobs he’d rather not mention in desperate times, when commissions came short. Still, sometimes you can’t tell when he’s here, and despite his best efforts to push down his arousal, to tell himself you’re his best friend...he’s an artist, and he can’t help but listen, and certainly not the wandering of his imagination.”

—

10) Professor Steve Medfet - (Untitled)

In an alternate timeline, a washed up Steve Rogers starts a new life in a run down city as an art / anatomy teacher. A class of hungry college students is filled to the brim each year, expecting the unspoken promise of their favorite hands on lab. You.

You keep his class sated, in turn giving the professor job security for funding his simple life out of the public eye. Each year when he calls, you come. Each year the students find a new way to tear you embarrass and degrade, much to the pleasure of the professor.

“Same speech. Same meaningless words. Focusing on the stillness of your skin and how it feels to be alone, you can almost drown out the way his tone edges toward excitement, the way the chairs shift and squeak—the anticipation.

Pretending your heart doesn’t send heat and cold flashes through you and run your breathing shallow, you look at the nicks in the door and try to guess their stories.

But then the metal frame clicks, the door unlatches. Professor Rogers wears a gentle smirk. It doesn’t ease your mind one bit.”

—

11) Swelter - Forest God Thor

warnings: sexual scenes, time limited conflict, religious themes

With a sickness overtaking nearby villages, yours is next, and has decided to sacrifice you to the cause of foraging for preventative herbs. You venture into the ancient woods after a rare vine of flowers, but leave with much more after encountering Thor.

After disturbing him where he lies cooling in the bank of a stream, you vow to prove the true intention of your soul—that you aren’t a hunter, or witch after his form or faculty, but a pious girl, also needing to escape the heat.

“You’re in the old woods now, and aside from the trees and the mossy nature tangled around them, there is only Him. Thor.

God of the harvest, bringer of land’s wealth, fertility, and vitality. You know of the sacrifices, of the woods where He is rumored to live in an unseen form, of livid white fire in the sky if He is severely displeased.

His name must not be spoken outside of prayer or ritual, and even now, you stutter to think it, and wonder if you are alone in your thoughts.”

[...]

“The frustration and the fear in your dilemma disturb the air, disquieting the otherwise enduring peace of the old woods, which rouses a large form in the cool muddy bank of the stream. It is only leaves shifting at first. Faded pumpkin and dried oak scatter—and suddenly the air smells like rain and your mouth sets around the tastes of copper and sage. Then, the leaves tumble off of a beast of a mass that rises slowly, and you note that it felt like the atmosphere changed to accommodate its awakening.”

—

12) Halloween Party - Thor Smut (Untitled)

warnings: smut, heartbreak, depressed!reader

An exclusive and mysterious Halloween party is still on this year—and you’re invited. It’s meant to be so extravagant and flashy an Avenger will one day attend, and all attendees decorate themselves in costumes inspired by the heroes, hoping to be noticed.

Fresh after a breakup with your boyfriend Brock, you take one half of the preordered couples costume and dress up as a goddess, determined to have a good night with your friends, find some excitement, and most importantly, a new god to match.

“Standing solemn, floor to ceiling windows allow in a few milky rays reflected by the moon, but they’re all the gems of your bodice need to gleam to a suitor's eye. Tonight, while you plan to rid your soul of another, you are welcomed with open arms and careful consideration as the final offering at an altar. You are seen by a god.”

—

13) Grief

warnings: dead!reader, guilt, grief, scary science, how do i say this... smut that is borderline necroph—there’s a replica of you, dark!steve, tony lives, pepper dies

Steve’s world is upside down. He’s lost the light of his life, and is completely in the dark. Luckily for him, Tony is back in the business of reality rejecting technology, and has found a way for him to be with you again.

At an abandoned cottage, Steve brings an armful of your scents to give the Tony’s invention sensory data, and faces the strange reality of what’s always been his worst stage...his worst trait. Denial.

“Dozens of test bottles full of manufactured scents, the kind of thing you smell borrowing a sweater, or with your face in the crook of someone’s neck. Essentially, the sort of organic thing that cannot be recaptured.

Steve’s got an armful of perfume and body wash. Of conditioner and deodorant, of all the elements he can think that make you smell the way you would—the way you do.

He wills the thoughts to be present tense. If he pretends you are alive, maybe it will look like it is you only sleeping. He wonders how well Tony knows the texture of your hair suddenly, because if it isn’t right, the experience will fall to shambles. It currently walks a plank over shambles. One wrong interpretation or surprise, and Steve will find himself spinning and burning with the fall into a new and uncharted taboo.”

14) Night Drive - Dean Smut

warnings: road head

On a long overnight drive, your back pressed into the seat of the impala makes you miss lying in bed with your lover, makes you miss his gentle caress right next to you...so you remind him how good it is to be close.

“You think about it when he hums a little tune. When he hums the song he wishes would play and thinks will come up next, it is eerily soft, and eerily similar to the soft contentment he sighs when you kiss on his neck.

When he reaches for your hand to hold, it makes you consider the shortness of the distance between you, and you think of pulling his cock out right here, giving him head that melts him here on this endless road.

Looking at him, he senses your interest—he turns his head to meet your eyes, throws up a grin of boyish charm. He’s happy to be here with you. These night drives are fine. He’s never minded them. But they’re even lovelier when in your company.”

—

15) Shadow - The Bucky Mystery

warnings: stalking, injury, sexual assault, canon typical hydra torture, mentions of bucky being forced to assault people, traumatized reader

On the run from Hydra, there aren’t many things that Bucky can remember. Inside his mind, there aren’t many feelings that make sense. Mostly, he feels guilt. Horror.

Following you to the gym where you practice ballet alone in the nights is all that makes sense, and for reasons he can’t explain, he feels drawn to you.

As time goes on, Bucky feels more enticed by his desire, you start to feel eyes staring from the walls, motivations and traumas are revealed, and in a horrible symphony, you both remember your connection.

“He’s a matte shadow against the noir shine of metal walls—an observer in the unlit quiet on his side of the room.

And he feels his unimportance. It’s humbling. Holds up the room like chunky beams and high rafters, dressed in the same layered neutrals. Framing the same cotton candy dancer, silent as the pad of her slippers when she turns her weight onto a straight leg, other coming up with her ankle pointed to the bend of her knee.

She spins, she spins and she whips her head around with each one, but it’s Bucky who gets dizzy.”

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