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mediumgayitalian · 2 days

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———

Will is good at making decisions.

It’s one of the only things he’s good at, actually. He can’t fight. He can’t control water or lightning or plants. He’s not as smart as the Athena’s kids or as charming as the Aphrodite’s. He is clumsy and soft-hearted and stubborn. But he is observant, he always has been, and he prides himself in his ability to think ahead. He keeps his infirmary stocked and his siblings on schedule. He reigns in head counsellor meetings and draws up binders and binders of files and projects — he is organised. He watches, he notices, he reflects, he prepares. He’s as impulsive as the rest of them, sure, but he has enough contingencies in place that he’s solid. A solid head on his shoulders, and he knows it — the head medic must.

So when he watches himself, horrified, diverge from his very detailed twenty-nine step process entitled The di Angelo Dilemma: Approaching Friendship like a Normal Person and ask Nico to come over, he considers the possibility that he has been possessed. Maybe the eidolons that fucked everything up the first time around have been crouching in dark corners, patiently awaiting the perfect time to strike and ruin Will’s life.

“See you then,” says Nico, rushing out the door, and Will smiles at him easily, watching him dash across the common, and then he sets aside the folder he’s updating, walks calmly out of the empty infirmary, nodding to Mr. D. as he passes, turns a corner in the hallway, slips into his favourite supply closet, sticks a chair under the door handle, clears his throat, and screams.

It’s one of those good screams, by design; he takes a good deep breath beforehand and lets the sound billow out of him, lets it scrape the sides of his throat raw and reverberate somewhere in the base of his skull. Were he not home in a camp that regularly makes use of lethal weaponry and deadly rivalry, entire armies would come running to his defense. As it is, he is left to fall to his knees and scream until he is hoarse, or until he hears a faint will you shut the fuck up! echo from around the vegetable gardens.

“Why me,” he croaks, giving in and collapsing to the floor.

It’s a nice floor, really. In between breakdowns he returns and decorates the place, sweeping up the dust and covering floors and surfaces with rugs and throw pillows. A guitar leans in the far corner for when his mother is thousands of miles away and he’s feeling sorry for himself. A photo album lives half-shoved under a shelf for when he is in need of punishing. His sketchbook remains in a constant state of almost-full under the one dusty window. (That one carries slightly less general despair.)

He is, upon reflection, somewhat of a disastrous person.

How fitting.

“Ugh,” he says out loud, to himself, and reaches for his guitar.

He has no intention of playing anything worthwhile. In fact he doesn’t even bother tuning it, not that he can very well anyway, and just strums random chords and riffs and yells over a string of flat discortants, at one point, filling the tiny room with noise ontop of noise ontop of noise until everything is gleefully stifling, like a mass of birds clouding the sun, like the thirteenth year of swarming cicadas, like the twentieth layer of July Texan heat. Until the mess is transferred from inside of his head to outside of it. Until he has committed so many musical sins that his father retreats from the sky a full forty minutes early.

“I feel you are at fault,” says Kayla, when he finally returns to their cabin. “For.” She gestures vaguely at The Outdoors.

“Hnnngh,” responds Will, taking three steps and tipping, gracelessly, onto Austin’s bunk, nearly bouncing right off of it. He catches himself, barely, and presses hard into the pillow, curling when his brother makes space for him, when his sister sighs, deliberately loud, and presses her knee into his thigh as she climbs up, too.

“This is your own fault,” Kayla grumbles. Her bony shoulders settle along the dips of his ribs, next to Austin’s thin ankles. “You could talk about things before they blow up in your face, but nooooooo. You run around doing everything yourself. Moron.”

Will swipes the heel of his hand under his eyes, throat garbling a weird snort-laugh-sniffle. Those bony shoulders tip to the side, slowly, until she curls under his chin, dragging Austin down with her. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Sh-h,” Austin says, patting blindly until his palm finds Will’s face, then patting deliberately. His knees press against Will’s, now, forehead inches away, barely clinging onto the too-narrow mattress. “Quiet town now. Reflect in your foolishness.”

“So mean.”

Years ago, exactly how many Will refuses to count, this exact scenario would be met by lots and lots of teasing, by pinched cheeks and cuffed shoulders and a forehead kissed several times over. There would be at least six instruments played at once, a camera flash the second he walked in the door pouting, and more lights on that would ever be necessary. An oft-repeated and never-resolved debate, probably; you coddle him, Cass; oh, shut up, Michael, he’s little. The scent of woodgrain and antiseptic and vanilla. A thousand other details he never thought to memorize.

Now there is quiet, or at least more of it.

Kayla hums, notes muffled as she gnaws on her lip, and Austin’s socked feet tap against the blankets, mapping out the tune playing out in his far-away eyes. The last final glow of the horizon turns red, then orange, then violet, sinking into dark navy blue, and their aunt blinks her way into focus, stretching widely across the thin wisping clouds. The fairy lights wrapped around the pillars and ceiling beams blink alongside the stars, chatting away to each other, and the breeze from the window is soft and warm and almost as sweet as southern jasmine. There is a pit in the dead centre of Will’s chest, and he is afraid Kayla will fall into it, and then Austin; afraid they will succumb to his gaping maw.

“What if I ruin absolutely everything,” he says. He swallows, and then again, and again, because his throat is dry, escape for the burning trails mapping the his face from corner of his eye to mouth. “What if I — scare. Am. What if I’m the reason, again.”

Diana snorts. You are such a drama queen.

And that’s coming from this theatre, Lee adds, gesturing grandly to the gold pillars of the cabin. You’ll be fine, kid.

A chorus of agreements from the rest of the occupied bunks; Kate’s encouraging grin, Leanna’s fond hair ruffle as she dances past, Amir’s wink. Will smiles and blinks back and he is gone, and Michael’s scowl disappears, and Kate and Phoebe’s laughter fades from the background. The cabin is quiet, shadowy; Austin and Kayla breathe quietly, swallow silently.

“I don’t know,” Kayla admits. “You — could be. Again.”

Will squeezes his eyes shut. He begs for Lee to go back to his sleep for the night. He inhales around the shake and inhales and inhales and inhales and feels the vacuum dead centre in his body, like from navel to spin, twisting, tubing, sucking; take, take, take, take. Can I, can I, can I. I want. Please. Let me have.

“I’m not sure it’s better not to try, though.” Austin’s hands curl around Will’s palm. “Right? You always say to — try. Do your best.”

A smile curls up the corner of Will’s mouth.

“I do.”

“And you did try.”

“I did.”

“Did it fail?”

Will flicks down to meet Kayla’s eyes, squinting one and tucking his chin.

“I asked to come over.”

“Oh, well — okay, Marilyn Monroe. Like that’s a new thing.”

“For no reason.”

“…Oh.”

“I could go on the sand rant, Kayla. I’m like a sleeper agent. As soon as he says it, I’ll — you know.”

Austin shifts, frowning thoughtfully. “I mean, he kind of already knows you’re weird.”

“Not this weird!”

“I think everyone knows you’re weird, actually,” Kayla adds. She wiggles, squirming and elbowing until she is half-perched on the fleshy part of Will’s waist, ignoring his wheezing. “Being a nerd dork loser is kind of your whole thing.”

“It is not!”

“You have binders dedicated to people, Will.”

“That’s not bad!”

“Specifically on how to best socialize with them, Will.”

“That’s — thoughtful!”

“…Sometimes being related to you is hard.”

“I am! Collecting data! To better my relationships! What is the issue!”

Austin and Kayla exchange a meaningful look — which does not, Will is relatively certain, usually involve putting your entire palm on your brother’s face and shoving it so it cannot be seen. Kayla.

“You’re doomed to fail,” they decide. And then they kick him off the bed, which is rude, but he is weak to their giggling, and it’s bedtime for them, anyways.

As per his carefully outlined routine they are sent to the showers and sinks, back in half an hour, bickering. As per his less carefully outlined but nonetheless regularly present routine they are separated physically from each other and shoved to seperate bunks. As per his most carefully outlined routine, he follows them each, ignoring their complaints, and presses the back of his hand to each forehead, closing his eyes as he lets his life force bleed into theirs, mixing, checking, making sure.

“We’re fine,” Kayla grumbles.

“Shut up and cough,” Will orders.

Austin gives him less trouble. Will makes a show of thanking him for it. Kayla throws her extra pillow. Will takes it, placing it on his own bed. It is silent after he says goodnight, silent as he clicks off the light, gathers his caddy, pads to the door.

“Goodnight,” whispers a voice, half hidden by the creak of the screen door as he opens it.

“Goodnight,” whispers another, half hidden by the cream of the screen door as he closes it.

“Goodnight,” Will repeats, grinning. “Sleep well, kiddos.”

They grumble, and their bedsprings groan as they turn away, mimicking the grate of the rickety porch steps. That, at least, is familiar; that at least matches the echoes that bounce around the walls of the cabin and the inside of his skull.

———

#i never stop thinking about cabin 7 fr #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #will solace #will solace angst #will solace & kayla knowles #will solace & austin lake #will solace & austin lake & kayla knowles #apollo kids #solangelo #pining will solace #my writing #fic #longpost #autistic will solace

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hwaslayer · 24 hours

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favorite things | pmylm drabble (jyh)

⇢ favorite things - drabble one // ft. the pmylm couple

summary: yunho's been having a rough time adjusting to the 'real world' and gets upset when he can't have the person he needs the most right away.

words: 2.8k

warnings: cussing/mature language, jealousy/insecurities, yuyu is upset and doesn't really know how to control his feelings rn cause he is just a tired boy 😭, a small lil fight, the awkward silent treatment, yuyu and yeo talk thru his feelings for a bit, kissing/making out, sorry if i missed anything i quickly whipped the rest of this in bed lol

a/n: whipped this baby up because i just felt the need to and i missed my babies!! (+ this lil IG inspo hehe) more drabbles to come 🫶🏼 love you in slow motion update this weekend annnnd i’m gonna have to push back the fallen angel hwa fic cause im all over the place 🥹 but we’ll do better!! lol stay tuned!!

Yunho has entered the real world and he is exhausted. When his mom used to joke about living and working in this so-called real world, he used to think it was just a thing to keep him on his toes, shake him up a little bit.

Nope, that shit was all real.

And he hates it.

He hates it because it's the one thing that brings another fight to the table for your relationship. Ultimately, Yunho knows all he has to do is adjust and he'll be fine in the long run. Both of you will be fine in the long run.

But today, that feels like a stretch and he is short of patience. Unusually short of patience than usual. He knows you don't mean any harm but for some odd reason, today he feels like the world is going to swallow him alive and everything is triggering.

The first thing is the fact that he has to stay a bit later than usual to finish up a project he had been working on. He was hoping to rush home and spend some time with you before you were off to practice for the evening, spending 2-3 hours with your friends and the group.

That didn't happen.

So, when he gets home and you've already texted him saying you've left with a sad, crying face, he's bummed. He gets himself comfortable anyway, heating up a cup of ramen since he's not too hungry. Maybe he'll get some food with you when you're out— it's one of his favorite things to do.

Now, the second thing that makes him a little more irked is the fact that 2-3 hours go by and you haven't texted. He knows practice can run long, but it's also a little unusual for you to not keep him updated. You finally do a bit past 8pm with a quick:

you: hi baby, sorry! practice was a bit busy, i was caught up during breaks. i'll be home soon then i'll come over after i shower, okay? wait for me (: we should go on a food run! hehe

yunho: sounds good, love. i'll be here.

It closes to 9pm and Yunho isn't hungry anymore. The cup of ramen will do since there seems to be a dim chance of getting food with you, especially when you tell him you'll be over in a quick second but you’re still nowhere to be found. Yunho charges to the door anyway and is hoping to greet you when he swings the door open. Instead, he's greeted with you laughing and giggling with Hyunjin downstairs in the lot as he hands you a bag of to-go food.

Let's set the record straight— Yunho loves your friends. He knows he can trust them, and he knows they're all genuinely good people. He's always been happy you had a good group of people around you.

It's just today, he really, really missed you. After a long ass day. And he knows you [and Hyunjin] mean no harm in your actions, but he can't help but feel a tad bit insecure [and slightly jealous] that you aren't rushing over to see him after not being with him all day. He knows he can blame this on the fact that he's exhausted and a little short on patience. God knows he really did try to keep it cool and brush it off.

He couldn't help it.

Yunho shuts the door again, leaving it unlocked for whenever you feel ready to come upstairs and hang out with him. He sits on his computer chair, irritated, and throws on a game to distract himself momentarily. Maybe it'll help ease whatever he's feeling,

But, nope.

It doesn't.

Because when you walk in, you're still yelling out to Hyunjin and whoever before you shut the door, place the food on the counter and walk into his room. You throw your arms around him from behind and Yunho lets out a small, audible sigh. That was already alarming enough for you, but you still dip your head to the side and try to grab his attention.

"Hi." You place a quick, chaste quick to his cheek, but Yunho doesn't move.

"Hey."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Is all he says plainly. "I was just waiting for you."

"I know, but Hyunjin stopped by to give us food—"

"I thought we were gonna grab food together?"

"Oh." You frown because it completely slipped your mind, or else, you would've left the food at your own apartment to save it for tomorrow instead. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't think he was gonna swing by with food. We all left each other earlier without any plans of—"

"It's okay." He taps your arms as a signal for you to let go of him. "You should go eat."

"We can share, there's more than enough—"

"All good." It's petty of Yunho, he knows. For him, it's the fact that you told him you wanted to go on a food run after practice. Another small, but meaningful thing you two did often. He doesn't blame Hyunjin for anything at all, no. There was no way of preventing that, and who the fuck was he to make you reject food from a friend?

He just wished he could take you to get food. Watch you order your favorites and do your happy dance in his passenger's seat. It's another one of his favorite things.

"Yunho." You slowly step aside and sit on his bed, your appetite all of a sudden gone from how distant your boyfriend is being. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset."

"It's fine."

"Is it really? Because something feels off and I wanna know what I did so I can fix it."

"It's nothing, Y/N." You almost flinch at the way he calls you your name instead of his cute endearing nicknames. It throws you off guard so much that you resort to a flimsy, broken:

"Okay." It's barely above a whisper. You stand to head back out to the kitchen, quietly eating a bit of Hyunjin's extra to-go thai food before setting some aside in a tupperware for Yunho and placing it in the fridge. The rest of the night goes.. like that.

In silence. With weird tension.

You hate it.

You wish you could just fix whatever you did wrong, or that Yunho would tell you no matter how 'silly' it may sound. He's always been so good with communicating, even during small disagreements, you weren't sure why he was avoiding it this time around.

You quietly get ready for bed, brushing your teeth and flossing before changing out of your sweats and hoodie to Yunho's shirt. You pad into the room, slipping yourself deep under the sheets and pull up some vlogs on Youtube that you need to catch up on.

"Tired?" Yunho asks from his computer chair, still playing his game.

"Mhm." You look at him, hoping he'd come over to kiss you, cuddle you. Shut off the computer and lay next to you, show you any kind of affection. He doesn't budge, though. You feel your bottom lip trembling, your heart slowly cracking in various places. You have to take a breath to prevent yourself from crying, and Yunho can feel it. He can feel your gaze on him, he can tell you're seconds away from crying. So, Yunho stands and shuts off his computer. But, he starts to head out to the living room and you're on the verge of breaking down. His way of avoiding the issue and getting more upset was to shut down. Deflect.

This wasn't like Yunho at all so you knew something was wrong; something was that bothersome to him.

"Baby." You call for him softly, and he just looks at you. You can tell he's conflicted between keeping this up and dropping it entirely, but it doesn't seem to be enough. It's not enough for him to drop it because his expression doesn't change. He still seems cold, distant. Tired. Unlike the Yunho you're so, so used to seeing and having.

"I'm just tired. Go to sleep."

"Where are you going?"

"The living room."

"Let me come with you."

"Y/N. Please go to sleep. I told you nothing was wrong." You watch the way his jaw slightly ticks before brushing you off completely and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. A loud sigh escapes his lips as he treads to the couch and plops onto it, leaning his head back onto the edge. He shuts his eyes, giving himself some time to sort through his feelings because what the fuck, Jeong Yunho?

He knows this is much needed, though. He needed to step away for a second to regroup. He doesn't want to unintentionally hurt you by saying or doing things that he doesn't mean. He's tired, and he's acting like a fucking baby because he just wanted you at so many points today— yet, the universe just didn't let him have you. That wasn't your fault.

None of this was your fault.

He needed to do better. Just because he was exhausted, didn't mean he had to act this way towards you.

"Yo." Yeosang walks through the door, dropping his duffle bag to the floor as he steps out of his shoes. "You good?" He furrows his brows at the sight of Yunho just resting his head back with his eyes shut close.

"Mhm."

"Where's Y/N?"

"In the room." Odd, Yeosang thinks. It's not like you two to be separated like this. It's pretty obvious Yunho is bothered by something and that you've probably gotten into a small fight over it. Yeosang isn't one to meddle much, especially when it's not his business to. But, he is concerned seeing his roommate like this. It's probably one of the rare times he ever sees Yunho upset.

"You sure everything's okay? I'm not really used to seeing you sitting out in the living room in silence like this." Yunho lets out a tiny chuckle that's barely audible, but he finally turns to Yeosang and purses his lips.

"I guess. Just exhausted lately."

"I bet. You've been working your ass off." Yeosang looks into the fridge before stepping away with a cold water bottle and heading towards Yunho. "Y/N put some food in there for you, by the way."

"Did she?"

"Yeah. It has a little sticky note on top." Of course you did, why wouldn’t you? You always thought about Yunho no matter what.

"Fuck."

"What?"'

"I've been such a dick to her tonight."

"What'd you do?"

"It's so stupid." Yunho begins to explain how his day has just been all over the place— from work, to staying late and not being able to see you before practice, no updates until 3+ hours after practice, looking forward to a food run that didn't end up happening because of Hyunjin. All Yeosang can do is laugh a bit and shake his head.

"Dude, we all have bad days. It's inevitable. You're still adjusting so don't be so hard on yourself. It's hard going from a routine you were so used to, especially with Y/N. Then, having to switch it up and play tetris with your time. It's not easy. But also, I'm sure Y/N has been feeling the same way. She's just doing what she can to support you first and foremost. She'd never hurt you intentionally, and I know she'd always choose you in the end." Yunho's head drops as he leans onto his knees and sighs again.

"Fuck, you're right. I don't know why today was so difficult. I guess it all piled on for me and I didn't know how to sort through it."

"All good. Shit happens." Yeosang shrugs. "Anyway. I'm gonna head to bed. You should probably do the same. I know she's probably waiting for you."

"Thanks." Yeo gives him a little dap before he's off to get comfy and end his day. Yunho stays on the couch for a few more minutes before he brushes his teeth and washes up for bed. He stands in the bathroom for a few more seconds before gaining the courage to finally talk to you about everything that's been going on today. When he walks in, you're still bundled under the sheets, but your phone is against the wall and a video is playing. He can hear you sniffling through the video though, and he knows you've been crying.

God dammit, Yunho.

"Baby?" You hear Yunho softly call your name as he slips into bed and wraps his arms around you.

"Mhm?" You respond, still facing away from him.

"Can we talk?" You sigh and exit the video, locking your phone before turning towards Yunho and setting your phone onto the table.

"Don't force yourself if you aren't ready to."

"I am, and I'm sorry." He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes and it instantly feels like you have your loving, incredibly sweet and attentive boyfriend back.

"What happened?"

"I don't really know. To be honest, I don't have that great of an explanation. I was just tired and I was really looking forward to seeing you before practice. I couldn't see you then because of work, so I was even more excited to see you after practice and to go on our run together. But, you came later and the whole thing with Hyunjin—" He pauses and shakes his head. "It was so stupid and childish of me. I didn't need to act that way, and I'm so sorry I was such a dick to you over that." You cup his cheek and caress the surface with your thumb.

"You should've just told me, babe."

"It's so dumb, though?" He furrows his brows, mainly at himself.

"Nothing is dumb. Whatever hurts you, hurts me. We're in this together, remember? We're on the same team. I just need you to communicate and be honest, like you always tell me. Okay? I'll do anything to fix it and make it better. I'm your safe space like you are mine."

"I know." He leans into your touch before placing a soft kiss to your palm. "I'll do better."

"We have our bad days and that's okay. It won't make me love you any less. Tell me if you need space or if you need anything from me. I want you to be happy and comfortable."

"I know."

"Okay. And I'm sorry about the food run. I promise I'll keep my end of it next time."

"Wasn't your fault, baby. Nothing could have prevented that." You give him a tiny, toothless smile before kissing the tip of his nose.

"Are we okay?" He nods.

"I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He repeats before leaning in to peck you on the lips. He holds the kiss before parting and looking you in the eye, brushing the hair away from your face. He dips in for another kiss— this time, it's deeper. More passionate. His hand comes down to the small of your back as he presses against you, slipping his tongue in to fight for dominance against yours. The kiss is so full of love and neediness, but there's no push or pressure to make anything out of it.

So, Yunho continues to kiss you. Pushing up against you ever so slightly while parting from your lips to leave a trail across your jaw.

Your chin.

Your neck.

Back up to your lips.

He loves the way you softly sigh in content, listening to him repeatedly whisper 'I love you' against your lips. Into your neck. Across your jaw. He loves the way you gently bite onto his bottom lip as a way of asking for more. He loves the way your fingers tug on the ends of his hair, the way you press your lips against his cheek, forehead, nose. The way you caress his cheeks and never let him go.

It's amongst the many on his list of favorite things.

He continues to coo you and praise you in between kisses throughout the night, smiling while hearing your giggles and smothering you with more kisses until you find yourself getting sleepy. He holds you close and sings a soft lullaby, playing with your hair as you drift off to sleep with the cutest smile on your face. He can’t help but admire you, fighting the exhaustion that’s been hitting him all week for a little longer. He fights it until he can’t anymore but fuck it, it’s all worth it.

Because sitting at the very top of his favorites list is you.

⇢ permanent taglist: @asjkdk @bintificreads @interweab @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs

#yunho fanfic #yunho series #jeong yunho series #jeong yunho fanfic #ateez series #ateez x reader #ateez #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #ateez imagines #kpop imagines #yunho fluff #jeong yunho fluff #hwaslayer: project make you love me

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live-laugh-lenney · 2 days

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ok ok hear me out: george makes a new friend thru social media connections and he is really nervous to ask her out but after his friends give him some convincing…he finally does (very nervously)

i love your fics btw babes

"just ask her, you cretin."

george rolled his eyes at arthur hill's commonly used insult for him in regards to his stupidity and stared back down at his phone held in his hand, eyes focused on the small text bubble that said 'hello', a text so vague yet made his heart pump rapidly in his chest.

yn was someone he met through tiktok during the 'beep' saga in the 2020 covid-19 lockdown.

she had her own account, her own tiny following, her own format and short-form content that would usually appear on his 'for you' page, and she attended the same content creator events as him - he just never plucked up the courage to go and speak to her, to introduce himself formally... but, then again, neither did she.

she found herself admiring his sense of humour and the content he was gracing people with through lockdown and she wasn't shy when it came to showing her enjoyment online. always looking for updates on his page, commenting her ideas, expressing how it was the one thing she had to look forward to during her boring days out of work. and it was during that time that he reciprocated; liking her videos, commenting and showing his own enjoyment towards her content.

"what if she completely airs me?"

"why would she?" chris wonders, feet kicked up on the sofa as he had the football highlights from the weekend playing on the television, "i mean, she's been keeping you entertained for years, george. and not just by her tiktok account. she actually keeps talking to you like she's interested in what you have to tell her."

george could heart he sarcasm dripping from his roommates voice and he couldn't stop himself from throwing a middle finger up in his direction.

"i'm just saying," chris holds his hands up in surrender, "joking or not, she wouldn't be messaging you constantly if she didn't like you in any way."

"i don't want her to like me in any way," george groans heavily, rolling his head back and arthur can't help but laugh at the dilemma his best friend was, "i want her to like me like me."

"this is such a bunch of teenage girl bullshit, george," chris cackles and looks in his direction; the way his phone was on the breakfast bar, between his hands as he leant against the top, "grow a pair of bollocks and just ask her out. what's the worst that could happen? she says no."

"you'll never know if you don't ask her," arthur says and george brings his attention from the ceiling and to the eyes of his two roommates, "seriously, you are so in love. it's sickening."

silence fell in their flat.

the two boys stared at george as he contemplated his decisions. the way his eyes stared at his phone, like he was trying to come up with a good way to carry on with the conversation she had been willing to start, anticipating what his movement was going to be.

"you're currently airing her."

"yes, thank you, christopher," george retorts and picks his phone up from the kitchen island, his thumbs working on a response back to her, "you guys suck at the whole 'wingman' thing, by the way. you're supposed to be nice, make me feel less nervous-"

"just ask her out, idiot. wingmen or not, we just want this to be over."

"the pining needs to stop now. george, just ask her or else someone else will come along," arthur insists, walking passed him and giving his shoulder a soft squeeze, "although, what she sees in your massive head is completely beyond me."

"what one?" george asks with a smirk on his lips and chris lets out a cackle, which bellows around the flat, leaving arthur bewildered in his response, "what?"

george disappears into his room, closing the door behind him, laying on his bed and he could feel his heart beginning to race again. what he wanted was to call her his girlfriend, but to take her out on a date was something he was nervous to do, wanting to surprise her and for it to be the best date she's ever been on. years of friendship and it could be ruined within seconds...

How are you? Are you okay?

I'm good, yeah. Sorry, you caught me in a bad time.

Oh, I'm sorry. Everything sorted now?

Sorted.

What are you doing Thursday night?

I tweeted about doing a live-stream on Tiktok that night, why?

My local down the road does a karaoke night on Thursdays and I was wondering if you fancied it?

Oh, that sounds brilliant.

With Chris and the two Arthur's, too? That sounds like a great night, count me in!

Just me.

And you.

I was thinking more of a date kind of thing.

Oh.

I'm so sorry, George.

his mind was racing.

sorry for what?

for assuming she was invited out with him and his friends? or for not being as interested in a date with him as he was to date her? he could feel his bottom lip going numb as he chewed on the flesh nervously and he could feel the deep pit in his stomach feel empty.

I'd love to.

#george clarkey #george clarkey imagines #george clarkey fics #george clarkey blurbs #george clarkey headcannons #george clarke #george clarke headcannons #george clarke fics #george clarke imagines #george clarke blurbs

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eclectickss · 1 day

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PGATW Part 10

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x OC (fem!reader)

Series Summary: The Avengers take a vacation to a private island rental off the Atlantic coast! You now have an opportunity to spend time with your new family, especially Wanda and Natasha. Chapter Summary: You go all the way... Warnings: no plot, smut (bottom!reader, switch!Wanda, top!Nat, praise, degradation, use of wanda's magic, a lil mommy kink, choking, oral, fingering, wanda magics/enchants a strap-on (r receives)), a wee fluff Note: this is the last foreseeable PGATW update! I had a few more ideas though so we will see. Thanks for reading! Word Count: 3.5k

Check out my series masterlist for links to the rest of the parts & general warnings. Check out my main masterlist for more works! Tag List: @suki-is-a-queen @yeetus-thyself @xenaizogie

The three of you walked back to the beach house and rinsed your feet off, not a single word being exchanged between anyone. The silence was maddening as the three of you walked up the stairs to the entrance, ignoring the looks from the avengers inside.

You could feel Wanda and Natasha's eyes following your ass as you lead the way up the stairs, putting a little more sway into your hips, careless as to whether the other two women noticed or not.

Faster, detka.

Wanda pushed words into your head, but you kept your pace, finally making it to their room. You didn't know how long you could keep control of yourself though as your heart was racing when your eyes finally made contact with the bed. Your feet somehow manage to carry your body to the foot of the mattress, turning around to sit on the end. When you look up though, you find that Natasha is already climbing on top of you, maneuvering you to the center of the mattress.

Her eyes dragged up every inch of your body, promptly followed by her hand tracing every dent, line and curve. By the time her eyes had finally connected with yours, you already felt like you were melting.

"We can't wait to ravish you, darling." Wanda climbed onto the bed, sitting above your head and playing with your hair. You watched impatiently as Natasha looked up at Wanda.

"More than you know, Talia," the Black Widow added, smirking at her parter and dragging the witch in for a deep kiss. You almost moaned as you watched their lips work together, slow tongues and small noises escaping Wanda. A soft whine left your mouth and the women finally looked down at you, both smirking.

"Aww, look Wanda, our babygirl is needy." Natasha mocked, grabbing your chin and stroking it with her thumb.

"Oh, what do you need, honey?" Wanda leaned over your head to connect with your lips upside down, you finding the new position fascinating.

"I need you two. Fucking me. Now." You groaned. "Please."

"What a good girl." Natasha whispered as she moved back to sit you up. Wanda slid her thighs under your back, swiftly pulling off your shirt before resting your weight on her legs. Nat's hands ran up and down your sides as Wanda's explored your front. Every touch was driving you wild.

"Baby why do you have a swim suit on?" Wanda laughed into your ear.

"Oh-" You nearly choked on a moan. "The outfit instructions titled 'beach clothes' is the least informative piece of information you can give a woman, you know?"

The two avengers giggled as you struggled to steady your breath.

"Well you look absolutely divine," Natasha added, leaning in to kiss the top of your breasts.

"Black suits you so well, Detka." Wanda grabbed your throat gently, squeezing on the sides and drawing sinful sounds out of you. As Natasha explored your exposed chest, you arched into her contact, allowing yourself to loose control.

"No, Talia." Natasha pushed you down, returning your back to the support of Wanda's thighs. She looked at the witch. "Darling, remind me what that word was that our sweet little slut used in that dream of hers?" The Black Widow grinned down at you. "Oh... I remember."

Wanda tilted her head, watching her partner in amusement.

Natasha leaned into your ear as she snaked a cold hand up your front. "Your mommies are in charge now, baby. Try to relax and be a good girl for us." Her teeth found your ear lobe drawing soft whimpers out of you. You felt her smirk against your skin, returning her attention to your chest as she slid one of your swim suit straps down your shoulder.

Wanda's hands worked the other strap down and Natasha watched as the witch shoved both of her palms down your suit and onto your breasts.

"Detka, you feel so good." Wanda leaned over, speaking next to your ear. You moaned as she rolled your nipples between her soft fingers. The sounds coming out of your mouth were cut short by Natasha finally making contact with your lips. She initially caught you off guard, but you quickly eased into the rhythm, allowing her tongue to enter and explore you.

You wanted to reach up to pull her kisses further into you, but Wanda quickly pulled her hands out of your top to pin yours to the bed. "Don't get greedy Talia. Your mommies are being nice to you right now."

That statement made you groan into Natasha's mouth, wanting to be obedient, but also wanting to know what the two of them looked like when you were misbehaving. Perhaps later. Wanda managed to slip her fingertips under your back to pull at the tie, taunting you as she slowly undid the knot.

Natasha helped out by taking the rest of the garment off your body, your bare chest now exposed to the two women. "Oh, honey," Natasha began, staring at your erect nipples. "I'm going to devour you."

Wanda fixed her position under you so that she could access your lips as Natasha latched her own around your delicate nipples, the mouths of both women on you. The witch was softly making out with you, shoving her tongue in-between your teeth, giving way to your small bites and tugs. Natasha swirled her own tongue around one of your nipples as she began to pinch the other. Both women grew addicted to the vibrations coming off of your body as you allowed your quiet moans to consume the room.

Wanda returned one of her hands around your neck, pulling her into you as she shoved her tongue as deep as possible. The witch forced a light choke out of you, sending shocks down to both of your cores. Natasha carried her kisses to the center of your chest, beginning to pull your thin skin between her teeth, leaving a mess of red marks behind. Your eyes were shut tight in ecstasy as her hickeys trailed down to your lower stomach, the Black Widow's hands running up and down your sides as Wanda's found your breasts.

When the witch's mouth left yours, you gasped for air.

"Oh my gods." Your chest heaved. "Fuck i'm- i'm going crazy."

Wanda laughed. "Yeah, detka?" Her fingertips pulled at your nipples.

"Oh, Wands - please." You whimpered.

"What is it, pretty girl? Are our generous touches not enough for you?"

Your eyes rolled into the back of the back of your head as Wanda played dumb. You could feel Natasha pop the button on your shorts, still keeping her kisses on your stomach as she listened to the conversation.

"Fuck- I- you- both of you feel so god damn good." You struggled to form sentences. "But I need something inside of me."

Natasha laughed. "Patience, kotenok. We wanna take our time with you." She ran her hands down your hips. "Wanda, darling, why don't you put those pretty fingers of yours into our slut's little mouth. Keep her busy for a moment."

The witches eyes glazed over as she did what she was told, you welcoming the presence of two slender fingers on your tongue. You roughly sucked, swirling your tongue around her digits while staring into Wanda's piercing green eyes. You could tell Wanda was getting lost as you moaned on her, well aware of how you were effecting her.

"Is our girl being good for you, honey?" Natasha stared at the sight before her.

"Oh, so good." Wanda nearly whispered, refusing to break eye contact with you as she pulled her drenched fingers out of your mouth.

"Perfect. Do you wanna reward her a little?" Natasha asked as she licked your cunt on top of your shorts.

"Fuck." You whispered.

"Hmm," Wanda began. "Maybe she could touch me a little." The witch grabbed your wrist and placed your fingertips under her shirt.

"Please."

Wanda laughed as she began to reposition herself. She replaced her thighs that you had been supported on with a pillow, then proceeded to straddle your chest, careful of the weight she was putting on you. You could no longer see Natasha, but you seemed to not mind as you could feel the Black Widow tease at the hem of your shorts and leave hickeys on your thighs.

Above you, Wanda pulled her top off, exposing the skimpy bralette that was attempting to support her breasts. Before you got the chance to process the sight before you, the witch had also managed to unclasp her bra. You watched as the fabric sagged on her arms, but it wasn't sliding down all the way.

"Go on, Talia."

You immediately reached up to drag the bralette down the rest of the way, heart racing at the sight of her bare chest. You ran your hands all over her thighs and up to her chest, relishing your first touches on her hard nipples. The witch moaned as you began to massage her, chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths.

At the same time, you could feel Natasha slowly work your shorts off of your hips, taking the black swim suit bottoms down with them.

"Oh, baby." Natasha breathed at the sight of your dripping cunt, bending down to blow hot air your pussy, drawing a whine from your throat. "You look divine." She returned to marking up you inner thighs, but you now felt so much more sensitive. Unable to control yourself, a hand flew up to grip Wanda's neck as the other went to pull her waistband, giving a slight base of friction on her pussy.

"Fucking- shit." Wanda gasped. "Talia." Your name escaped her mouth as more of a moan.

You smirked below the witch, breathing heavily and happily. You allowed your fingers on the top of her shorts to lower to her clothed cunt, slowly rubbing her out. The hand on her neck moved to her shoulder, making it easier for you to move her around.

"Oh my gods." Wanda whispered, a hand flying to your own neck to support herself. You grinned taking deep, careful breaths, deciding to tug at Wanda's shorts to see what she would do. The witch's sharp green eyes met yours aggressively as you watched a switch flick in her brain.

Red tendrils swirled around her free hand and she flicked them to the side of the room. You felt the fabric of her shorts leave your chest, the garment flying in the direction of her fingers. You gasped at Wanda's display of power, now able to see the wet spot on her panties.

This caught Natasha's attention as she chuckled into your pussy. "Go on, darling, let her taste you. I want to hear everything."

Wanda's glare didn't leave as she pushed up onto her knees, now hovering her panties over your salivating mouth. With another swift flick, her panties were off, her sweet smell hitting you like a bus.

"Come on, Talia. I know you're curious." She smirked, running her slender fingers through your hair before leaning forward to support herself and sink towards you.

Slowly, you reached your tongue out to her center, holding onto her hips. The moment that her warm cunt reached your mouth though, Natasha also made contact with your pussy. Your mouth quickly sent vibrations into Wanda, who in turn filled the room with her own moans.

Natasha smirked. She had the both of you in control.

"Fuck," Wanda groaned as your tongue swirled in her hot, wet mess. While forming a pattern was difficult while Natasha also sucked on your clit, you managed to explore Wanda's cunt, controlling her movements with your hands on her hips. "Natasha, baby, she feels so good," Wanda groaned.

"Yes she does," The Black Widow moaned into you, swirling her saliva around in torturous circles. She lavished in the sounds that escaped your throat, matching every dip and lick up to a whimper or groan. Your legs fought against the strength of Natahsa's arms and Wanda's thighs as you writhed under the two women, this moment in time sending you to a plane that feels like heaven. Welcomed knots began to form in your stomach as the two women worked their magic.

"May I - pl- please cum?" You managed to squeak out under Wanda's pussy. Natasha paused, dropping your heart off the side of a building.

"Hmm... you can cum once our lovely Wanda does... that'll be a good reward." With that, she immediately returned to eating you out, making you gasp into Wanda. Our Wanda, Natasha had said.

You had to make Wanda cum before Natasha got to you... you had to show the two women how much of a good girl you could be. You focused all of your attention on Wanda, desperate to accomplish your goal. You quickly found a repetition that seemed to encapsulate the woman above you in pleasure, holding on tight to her hips so that you could keep her build in control.

Natasha could tell that you were closing in on the witch, so she decided to challenge you by picking up the pace of her torturous ministrations. You wouldn't give in though, you couldn't. The sounds coming from Wanda were telling you that you were close, so you pushed through. You forced yourself to only focus on the witch... how her swollen folds felt against your tastebuds and hips struggled under your hands. You zoned in on each swipe of your tongue, ensuring that her clit was run over through the abundant saliva and oozing slick.

"Im gonna cum." She groaned breathily. You did it. You made no changes to your ministrations, ensuring that her orgasam hit. Wanda took a deep breath as her release sent a rush of physical power through your body and into Natasha's mouth, causing one more vibrating ripple to coarse through your pussy and add your orgasam to Wanda's.

You were no longer able focus on the precise movements of your mouth as your walls pulsated around Natasha's tongue, the woman below you working off your high while you messily slowed down Wanda's. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," You breathed into Wanda's cunt, trying to steady your body. You and witch took a few more seconds to regulate your racing hearts as Natasha torturously cleaned up your mess.

Eventually, Wanda collapsed to the side of you, allowing the mattress to catch all of her weight.

"Thank you," you managed to croak out. "Thank you mommies. That - that felt so good. You made me feel so good." You whined into the comforter, unaware the two women were staring at each-other as you thanked them.

"Oh, what a good, good girl. Thanking her mommies for her orgasam." Natasha cooed and you turned to stare at her. The Black Widow made sure you were focused on her as she pulled her top off. You eyes the expanses of her stunning skin, having little time to admire her beauty before she also tossed her bra off. Before you knew it, the damp pool had returned to your core.

Natasha abruptly reached for one of your hands, moving it to lay on one of her breasts. Joyously yet cautiously, you began to massage her, watching the eyelids of the woman before you slowly close and open.

"Maybe we should reward her, Wanda?"

You flipped your head to find the witch smirking. "I agree, my love." Her green eyes taunted yours.

"Wonderful," Natasha replied. "Get on your knees, Talia. All fours, honey."

You obeyed immediately, the commands affecting you in ways you could never imagine. You were still a little worn from your first orgasam, but you assumed that feeling wouldn't last too much longer.

You could hear the sound of Natasha loosing her pants, but you couldn't see from your new position on top of the mattress. Wanda tilted your chin up to her, grinning.

"Something you'll come to understand very quickly is that I am not your average partner, Talia." Her accent sent chills down your spine. "I come with perks... like this one." Wanda let go of your chin but made sure that her hand was still in your line of sight. You watched as magic shot out of her hand in the direction of Natasha, but you couldn't see what it was doing.

You looked at the witch in confusion, not feeling anything. She simply smirked, moving her focus to Natasha, as if giving her a signal. All of a sudden, a foreign object pressed up against your ass, drawing a loud gasp out of your throat.

"Now don't be shy, detka. All I've given our Natasha is a little... add-on." Wanda whispered in your ear, entertained as she watched your eyes widen. These women were going to be the death of you. You whined as the witch playfully tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. Natasha moved closer to you, now fully rubbing up against your entrance from behind, teasing you as she pleases.

"That's not little," You croaked and Natasha laughed, dragging her hands up and down your back.

"You'll be alright, honey. You can let us know if it's too much, but I don't think you will." She grabbed onto your hips, slowly sliding into you. Soft, sinful sounds escaped your throat, knowing Natasha was right as she filled you up.

"Fucking hell, kotenok, you're so tight for me." She moaned above you as you gasped.

"You- can feel me?"

"Yes darling," Wanda jumped in, crawling up high on the bed so you could see her and she could watch. "Natasha can feel all of you." Wanda smirked.

"Ohmygods." You mumbled as the Black Widow started to slowly pump in and out of your slick, addicted to the way her nails were starting to rake down your lower back and hips. The sensation consumed you, and to add to the heat of the moment, Wanda had now started touching herself in front of you.

"You like what you're seeing, detka?" The witch asked.

"What i'm seeing... what i'm-" You could barely think as Natasha picked up the pace. "What I'm feeling. Ohfuck." You whined watching Wanda's delicate fingers. "Feeling so fucked out and pretty for my mommies."

"You're doing so well, darling," Natasha added, steadying your hips as you began to loose control. "Your pussy feels so warm around my cock... letting me fuck you like this, so needy and numb. Do you think you two will be able to cum with me?"

Natasha's words had an evident effect on you and Wanda, causing you both to give hurried nods. "Go- good girls." Words were beginning to have a harder time escaping her mouth, just as your brain kept getting fuzzier. "Ill just- need a-a few... few more m-moments..."

You could feel yourself on the brink of an orgasam, needing to dedicate all power to holding back. You whimpered as Natasha continued to brutally thrust into you.

The redhead gasped. "Fuck- i'm gonna-"

All of a sudden, Natasha had released into you, sending you over the edge. Wanda watched as the two of you collapsed, allowing her to finish herself off too. The three of you ended up in a sweaty sticky mess, piled on top of each other.

You grinned, happily surrounded by your two favorite people on earth. Wanda reached to hug your body and you reached for Natasha, everyone entangled and satisfied. Despite your sticky skin, you never wanted to let go.

But nothing can last forever. Eventually, Natasha wiggled out of your grasp and stood up on the floor.

"What! No!" You groaned, missing her warmth.

"Oh hush, Talia." She giggled. "I have to use the bathroom and clean up. I'm not running away." She said, waltzing towards the other end of the room, fully aware you and Wanda were watching her ass. "Besides, you two should probably clean up as well."

You turned to face Wanda.

"She's right, you know..." The witch spoke softly, her eyes shinning with amusement.

"But i'm so cozy here..." You looked up to her innocently, flickering your glance in between her eyes and lips. The witch rolled her eyes but couldn't resist as she leaned in to softly capture your mouth, admiring your sweet and sincere kisses.

"C'mon, Talia." She pinched your ass, holding her hand out to you as she stood up. You hesitantly grabbed it, but you immediately realized that you never wanted to let go. The witch dragged you to the bathroom, the two of you joining Natasha in bliss... this was something you could get used to.

#wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel smut #wanda x reader #wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wandanat #gxgxg smut #marvel gxg #lesbian #marvel self insert #wanda x natasha x reader

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btsmosphere · 23 hours

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Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 8: On the Force

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: Jungkook smiles at you for the first time. (and the second)

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 1.2k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: none :)

a/n: bonus midweek update!! because of the short length of this and the next chapter, I didn't want to keep you waiting a whole week for each, but they really do stand on their own so I didn't want to merge them either. the adventure continues as normal on Sunday!

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Namjoon’s steps seemed to fall in slow motion as he crossed to his desk. Chairs stood in front of it, but Jungkook had ignored them entirely, upright and standing to attention as his leader faced you both.

Your eyes flicked between the two men. The loaded silence was only intensified by Jungkook’s unflinching gaze, waiting for the hammer to fall when Namjoon would finally speak.

He sucked in a breath.

“Well done.”

Now your gaze snapped abruptly to Namjoon. Blinking, his words replayed in your head as if to prove what you had actually heard.

Beside you, Jungkook’s jaw dropped, tension leaking from his shoulders.

Small smile quirking his mouth, Namjoon chuckled.

“You seem surprised.”

Hesitant, you turned your eyes to Jungkook. His met yours, wide and startled like you had never seen him. How someone like him could ever look so innocent-

“Uh-um,” Jungkook tripped over his tongue, “Y/N wasn’t… we weren’t supposed to be on duty.”

“But you stepped up when we needed you,” Namjoon cut in. Stroking his chin, he raised an eyebrow at Jungkook, “together. I’m impressed by that. It seems you can put aside your differences when it matters, and agree on something.”

You pressed your lips together at his words. Sure enough, Jungkook did the same; Namjoon may have been less impressed had he witnessed Jungkook’s resistance to your help.

Next under Namjoon’s gaze, you tried your best not to look shifty.

“That was also very impressive control from you. At great risk, you managed to snuff out what Bolt was after.”

No words came to you. Dropping your eyes to the floor, you gave a flustered, jerky bow of your head.

Jungkook eyed you from the corner of his eye as you stayed like that, offering only silence. A crease shot along his brow. But he turned back to Namjoon and spoke up, shifting the topic.

“How did Bolt get on us in the first place?”

That drew a sigh from Namjoon. Tugging at his chin, he took a seat.

“He must know our plan. It’s been long enough that we can’t disguise these as random attacks any longer. Media this week has been plastered with calls for vigilance. ‘Villainous movements’ or something. A confrontation like this has been coming for a while.”

Gritting his teeth, Jungkook kicked a chair out with his heel and fell into it. His glare was directed at the ceiling.

More carefully, you took a seat yourself.

“The one time we aren’t attacking, he sees fit to send an army?!”

“Tonight wasn’t an opportunity for him to win any glory,” Namjoon shook his head, “why show his face unless he’s defeating a visible evil? He’s using others, leaving them to fight with the weapons he's already stolen.”

“Probably pin it all on our side in the media,” Jungkook muttered, venomous.

Sitting back, Namjoon held his hands out. Resigned.

“We’re used to that,” he continued calmly, “but him not tackling this in person also tells us we’re right. He’s working on something, and he wants us out of the way – but he can’t risk being the visible instigator of a confrontation.”

“You’re hitting him where it hurts, then,” you added.

“And we can’t stop,” Namjoon agreed, “but this will make it more of a challenge. Which is why you came together at the perfect time – I need you back on board.”

A smirk slid onto Jungkook’s face, but not in time to disguise the hint of much-less-suave delight that lit up his eyes at Namjoon’s declaration. He swelled under his leader’s approval.

“Both of you,” Namjoon continued, “Y/N, you proved you have what we need. Keep training, each of you, but you’re with us now.”

His smile was genuinely warm as he finished. Bolstered by his happiness, you walked out glowing.

Just outside the door, you paused, releasing a sigh. All the adrenaline, the uncertainty and now the relief spilled out of you. You turned to Jungkook.

Abruptly, you were rendered speechless.

He was smiling.

At you.

You had of course seen him smile, but only among the others. It was only now that you felt the full blast of his grin, showing his front teeth and scrunching his nose up. As he looked at you, his smile slipped away, but the happy light never dimmed in his eyes.

“I guess we did it,” you spoke, “are you still mad at me?”

He rolled his eyes, but it was accompanied by a genuine chuckle.

Turning to saunter back through the corridor, he allowed you to fall into step beside him. A smile still hid behind his next words.

“Of course I am.”

“My apologies then,” you replied with an equally suppressed grin, “next time I won’t help you out. My incredible skills are clearly wasted here-”

“I knew it would go to your head,” Jungkook scoffed.

“I don’t see any danger of it surpassing yours in size, don’t worry.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes at your gleeful smile. Together, you reached the base of the stairs and he let you go first, crossing his arms as he hung back a couple of steps.

A flurry of scuffling feet and poorly muffled giggles reached your ears as you ascended, bringing your attention ahead of you once more. On reaching the top, a foot whisked around the corner; someone in a hurry to get to the living room. Their hurry couldn’t erase the glimpse you had just caught of several curious sets of eyes peeking around it, though .

Fond smile emerging on your lips, you marched down the corridor. In front of you, a large, shrieking pile of limbs was toppling over the back of the nearest sofa.

“Yah-”

Yoongi’s tired grumblings mingled with Jimin’s giggles and Hobi’s yelps as the lot of them tried to disentangle from one another. V was the last to sheepishly clamber off the unsuspecting hyung they had squashed.

Over in the kitchen, Jin shot a knowing glance towards you all from his spot by the stove. He held your gaze with a warm smile.

“So? What did Joon say?” Jimin asked, bringing you back.

Multiple sets of curious eyes blinked up at you and Jungkook.

“He was impressed,” Jungkook spoke, moving around to sit, “we’re back on the force.”

A chorus of whoops followed, Jungkook’s brothers grabbing and jostling him in celebration. But they didn’t forget you either: before you knew it, you were being tugged down by Hope too, onto the other sofa as he continued his joyful congratulations.

Breathless with laughter, you managed to escape (though your hair was surely a ruffled state).

The grin paused on your lips as you locked eyes with Jungkook, who was being equally harassed by Jimin, Yoongi patting him on the back. Your lips closed, ready to swallow down the elation if Jungkook was going to be displeased with you joining in, infringing on his group.

He gave you a timid smile.

Thank you for reading! You guys are the most amazing readers, thank you for all your wonderful enthusiasm for this series💜💜

taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @written-in-flowers @taegularities @dvalities

@parapiop7 @taiwan0618 @11thenightwemet11 @junniesoleilkth @doctorquack

@oddinary4bts @svnbangtansworld @ktownshizzle @minisugakoobies @jksusawife

@kokoandkookie @veemegatron @kookxin @seokout @jkayy

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#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook series #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook mafia au #jungkook au #jungkook villain au #bts supernatural au #bts series #jungkook imagine #jeongguk scenarios #jeongguk x you #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook enemies to lovers #bts e2l

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thefallennightmare · 2 days

Text

Mercy-Five

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Fallen Angel!OC

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, smut, mythological talk, violence.

Summary: "Blinded by a fear of feeling, these are the kings we chose. Lost and looking for the meaning, I've been searching high and low" It came crashing down on him. This is the story of the highest banished angel from where she came only to find home in the arms of a mortal man. This mortal realizing he'd face Lucifer himself to keep her.

Lethia: Archangelus Oneironaut also known as Archangel of Dream Walking. Across worlds and dimensions, she walks within. Uncovering dangerous secrets, leaving her cast out, isolated- that is until she begins to learn what it means to feel.

Authors Notes: thank you to everyone who was incredibly patient in the long two and a half months it took for me to update this. I am so proud of myself for busting through this chapter this past weekend. I am VERY excited for what's to come! Huge thank you and shoutout to @thescarlettvvitch for all the LOVELY ideas. I had so much fun creating the gif.

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NOAH

With a sigh, I rolled over in bed and stretched out an arm towards Lethia, hoping to feel her warmth again but was met with cold sheets. I removed my head from underneath the pillow to see that the space next to me had been empty for a while.

“Lethia?” I called out while rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

Silence.

After I got into bed with her last night and we said our goodnights, neither of us said a word. Letting the silence that encased my bedroom be the eerie white noise we needed to fall asleep. My dreams were filled with all the information I had found out moments before coming to bed and the feathers tucked away in the studio's closet. I hadn’t told Lethia what I knew, I wanted her to be the one to tell me. It was her secret to tell.

If she ever did.

Slowly dragging myself out of bed, I let my feet guide me over to the bathroom across the hall.

Do angels even go to the bathroom?

I shook my head with a chuckle and peeked into the bathroom only to be met with darkness. Once I made it downstairs and through the quiet house, I noticed the back patio door open, the cool breeze wrapping around my bare legs.

“Lethia?” I called her name again when I stepped outside.

Just past beneath the trees to our backyard was a path that led down to the beach less than a mile away and something in my gut was telling me to follow the path. I only made it a few feet away when something black on the fence caught my eye.

One of Lethia’s feathers.

I hesitated slightly, not knowing if it was a good idea to touch it now knowing what I do. It would take me into a part of her memories and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to see something else I couldn’t understand. It felt as if the memories were getting stronger, more intense, and there was a part of me that feared I might not be able to pull myself out of it.

“Fuck it,” I muttered.

With my fingers wrapped around the soft feather, I felt the darkness creep in, pulling away at my subconsciousness. My breath caught in my throat as my soul went through a black tunnel, throwing my body from left to right, and when the oxygen was constricted any longer, the white haze around my eyes cleared. I blinked rapidly before gazing around at my surroundings.

There was an eerie calm. But the ringing in my ear caused me to cover them for a moment. It was an annoying sound but after a moment, I got used to it and pocketed my hands in my sweats.

Movement from my right caused me to whirl around and what I saw took my breath away.

Lethia stood in front of me, in her old form. The exposed skin from her sheer white dress was clean and innocent; not a mark of ink anywhere.

The only way I knew it was Lethia was from her smile. It radiated comfort and solace, something I found myself falling for. There was a connection between us that I couldn’t explain and it drove me absolutely mad. I couldn't figure out why she felt so familiar.

Lethia was standing on a mountain's edge, the soft and quiet breeze blowing through the feathers of her wings. Her hair danced over the freckles on her shoulders and from my position behind a tree, I watched as a smile graced her face.

“I was wondering when you would show,” her angelic voice rang out.

My heart skidded in my chest and for a moment, I thought she was talking to me and I was ready to step out from behind the tree. But then another figure stepped forward, his wings breaking the branches as he emerged from the forest.

“It was hard for me to slip away, Lethia.”

She turned to face the man and I tore my gaze away from her to take in the sight of the angel. Large stone gray wings extended from his back but unlike Lethia’s, he had a design to them.

Gold lines, almost like veins, vibrated with color as he shook them out. His hair long and dark, pulled back out of his face, and Lethia brushed away a loose strand; tucking it behind his ear. From my position, I could only see the man’s back.

The white shirt clung to the muscles as he moved his arms around Lethia to bury his face in her neck. I expected to feel jealous at seeing how close they were but instead, I felt at peace.

“The King has you caged like one of his peasant animals,” she sighed deeply. “How can we ever be together?”

The man gave her a small smile. “It will all be worth it, Lethia. Soon we can go wherever we like. Leave the Kingdom.”

Her eyes widened. “Leave the Kingdom? Are you mad? Where would we go?”

“There are places outside of here. I’ve seen them and they are gorgeous. Vast fields of green, the colors here in the Kingdom pale in comparison to what I’ve seen there. The light creates a humming glow and the sounds of the birds make you want to dance.”

The two of them began to sway, dancing in the wind, and Lethia laid her head on the man’s chest.

“Oh, Knoa. This place sounds wonderful,” she sighed. “Can you take me there soon?”

He kissed the top of her head. “Soon. We can create a home there, rule the two of us. Anyone who is tired of the King’s ruling will join us.”

“How are you so sure?” Lethia gazed up at him.

“They’re all lost and looking for the meaning. I've been searching high and low for it. Some think that we will fade into nothing, going up in the smoke, and fail. Some may think we will beg the King for a mercy that we both know he would not show.”

Blinking rapidly, I looked around to see that I was back in my backyard and it took me a long moment of staring straight ahead to process what I’d seen. Lethia was with a different angel this time, not Lucifer.

Knoa.

Was this angel before or after Lucifer?

Pocketing the feather, I continued down the trail behind my house and towards the beach. The waves crashed against the rocks, echoing loudly into the dark sky above. There wasn't anyone on the beach and when I was ready to give up, I saw a flash of black off in the water.

Enormous wings lapped up the salty brine of the ocean water and the figure stood with their arms outstretched. Lethia’s face made my heart leap in my throat when I took in the euphoric bliss on the soft feature of her face.

Her wings looked heavy but the way she moved through the water at a rapid pace made it seem like they weighed nothing. I already knew what she was but seeing her in her true form silenced the lingering doubt that plagued my mind.

Lethia tip-toed out of the water, standing on the shoreline and that's when I noticed she was naked. Her perky nipples begging to be tasted and the water droplets between her breasts slipped down over her navel and towards her pussy.

“Shit,” I muttered while adjusting my cock.

Her crimson eyes snapped up at me and we stared at each other for a long moment, neither of us saying anything.

“I knew it,” I breathed.

Lethia’s lips twitched. “What?”

Taking a tentative step towards her, her wings shook causing a gust of wind to blow through my hair. They were even larger close up and the darkness of them felt like I was staring in the depths of someone's subconsciousness.

“I knew it,” I repeated without taking my eyes off the wings.

“How?” Lethia questioned, unmoving.

My eyes finally darted to her face. “I found some of your feathers and slowly things started to come together. I researched some things last night.”

Her shoulders went even more stiff. “My feathers. You’ve seen-?”

“Your memories,” I finished for her with a nod. “I’ve seen Oblivion, Lucifer, and Knoa.”

Her brows furrowed while shaking her head. “Knoa?”

“He talked to you about a new kingdom. A place where the two of you could rule,” I explained.

The confusion never left her face and that’s when I realized she had no idea who I was talking about. For a second, I thought I might have slipped into someone else's memories but I was certain it was Lethia who I saw in that particular scene.

“I saw you in your old form,” I closed the distance between us.

Her lips turned down in a scowl. “Oblivion. Do you still prefer what you see in front of you now?”

I cupped her cheek. “Definitely.”

There was a strong urge to run my fingers through the feathers but I was hesitant. If merely touching her dropped feathers dragged me into her memories, what would happen if I touched her wings?

“You can only see my memories from a dropped feather,” she answered my thoughts.

“Can you read minds?” I asked, not being able to hide the excitement in my voice.

She giggled. “No, but the hesitation in your eyes was clear.”

I raised my hand slowly. “Can I?”

When she nodded, I let my fingers brush along the softness of her wings and marveled at how they felt against the roughness of my palm. Lethia gasped which caused me to rear my hand back in worry.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she shuddered. “Touch them again.”

I did and she gasped once more.

“I can feel your touch. The roughness of your fingers on each feather,” her eyes sparkled.

“I thought fallen angels couldn’t feel humans touch,” I said.

Lethia nodded while linking our hands together. “I can’t feel you here but I can feel you touch my wings.”

They encased us, protecting us from the outside world, and I felt a sense of peace fall around me. I couldn’t stop staring at them, marveled at the sheer strength and power they could possess.

“You’re not afraid?” Her voice was quiet.

I raised my brows. “Why would I be?”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and I wanted to taste them so bad but refrained with the look of disgust in her eyes.

Not at me but at herself.

“They’re darkness. Evil. Every part of who I am now shows my transgressions,” she said.

“That’s not who you are anymore, Lethia,” I lifted her chin with a knuckle. “I don’t know the reason why you fell but think of it as a way to leave that part of you behind. Start fresh.”

“Fresh,” she repeated, as if mewling over the word.

We stayed like this for a long moment, letting the warmth of her wings block out the chill brought on by the ocean. It was then that I realized she was still naked and I let out a low cough, trying to keep my gaze on her face still.

“Did you want to get dressed?”

“Shit,” she cursed. “I almost forgot. I was taking a bath in the ocean. The salty brine helps my wings. They’re beginning to deteriorate from hiding my true form.”

Stepping away with the opening, I watched in awe as the large wings retreated into her back, hidden away beneath the slits of skin.

“Deteriorate?” I asked while she slipped on her clothes.

My eyes cast downwards for a moment and a flash of ink on her ribs caught my attention. A green snake.

“That’s why you keep finding my feathers. They’re falling off,” Lethia explained once fully dressed.

Linking her hand with mine, I brought her into my chest to lay a chaste kiss on her lips. Even if she couldn’t feel it, she still kissed back with equal force.

“You never have to hide from me, Lethia. I want to see all of you,” I said with a stern gaze.

Crimson eyes danced between mine and with a curt nod, she let out a long breath.

“I can’t believe you figured it out on your own.”

With a smug smile, I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and began leading her back up the beach towards my house.

“I’m quite perceptive with these things,” I informed as we slipped back inside the quiet house.

It was nearing four in the morning and everyone was still asleep as we quietly ascended the stairs back to my bedroom.

“Let’s get some sleep,” I suggested while tossing back the blanket.

“Angels don’t sleep,” Lethia informed while sinking low beneath the mounds of blanket on my bed.

Once I was lying next to her, I brought her into my chest and shivered when long black nails dragged over the tattoos.

“Does that mean you can’t dream?” I asked.

“Well funny story about that. One of my powers is that I dreamwalk in others dreams. I actually walked in yours a few times, unwillingly. I go wherever I’m needed I suppose. I have this familiar that follows me in every dream; leading me,” she said.

“Wait,” I gazed down at her. “A crow? With a white stripe of feathers?”

She rested her chin in her palm. “You see him too?”

“In my dreams. So that means when I dreamt of you, that it was actually you?”

Her cheeks reddened, thinking back to the dreams I had of her. “Yeah. I don’t know why it was your dreams I always found myself in. There’s a lot of things I’m still trying to understand.”

“Could you feel it when we would have sex?” I asked slyly.

A darkness crossed her features, the one that I found myself gravitating towards.

“Right now, I can’t feel your heartbeat,” she placed a palm on my chest. “But in your dreams, I could feel every inch of you.”

Now Lethia’s hand dragged down my stomach, those sharp nails leaving red marks in their wake, and when she reached my cock, I hissed out in pleasure. She palmed my cock and I let my eyes flutter shut.

“I can’t feel you physically, but I get this feeling inside of me; almost like a fire. It’s urging me to continue because I know it’s making you feel good.”

Lethia adjusted herself so her mouth was hovering over my sweats before she hooked her fingers in the waistband, slowly dragging it down over my hips.

“You don’t have-,” I tried to say but my voice was seized from me when I felt her cool lips around the warmth of my cock.

She hummed but I couldn’t tell what it was for. I knew she couldn’t feel the way my cock hit the back of her throat but could she taste the precum that gathered at the head?

Did it taste bitter?

Was it sweet?

Fuck, I wanted to taste her so bad.

“Lethia,” I moaned, grasping at the sheets beneath me when her tongue flattened against the base of my cock.

Her movements were precise, like she knew what she was doing. Even if she couldn’t feel how perfect her mouth was on me, Lethia used my moans and sighs of pleasure to guide her.

“Just like that,” I snaked my fingers through the short tendrils of her hair to keep her in place.

Our eyes met in a blaze of seduction and the way those crimson pupils shined with curiosity of if she was doing it right, I dragged a finger over her cheek.

“So good. You’re doing so good,” I praised. “I don’t know how it’ll affect you but tap on my thigh three times if you need me to stop.”

Lethia winked and with both hands at the base of her skull, I kept her in place to fuck into her throat. My pace was relentless as the head of my cock reached the back of her throat with ease and when her fingernails grazed over my balls, I felt my body ignite. The base of my spine tingled as I let out a guttural groan, her name falling from my lips as I came into her mouth.

Her hums of tasteful pleasure intertwined with mine as I spilled every last drop down her throat. She let go of my cock with an audible pop and wiped away the drool from her mouth with a slick wipe of her finger.

“You taste so fucking good,” Lethia whispered while placing tender kisses along my stomach.

“You were able to taste me?” I asked, still breathless from my orgasm.

She nodded with a wide smile. “I couldn’t feel your cock in my mouth but I could taste you. Everything I feel with you, I feel it here.”

Her finger traced a heart over my own.

“That was better than any dream,” I mused as she tucked herself underneath my arm again.

“And no little friend watching us,” Lethia teased with a wink.

Just to add to the humor, I made a show of looking around my bedroom for the crow with the white stripe of feathers but breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck,” I murmured while tucking us deeper underneath the blanket.

We were quiet for a long moment until Lethia kissed the tattoos on my chest. “Thank you for being so understanding and not running away after you found out about what I am. There’s still a lot I don’t understand about myself.”

I squeezed her shoulder. “One day at a time, angel.”

The lines in her forehead creased when the realization of what I called her sinked low in my gut.

“To on the nose?” I asked.

“No, surprisingly I like it,” Lethia patted my chest before laying her head there. “Goodnight, Noah.”

My face twitched at hearing my name on her lips but thought nothing of it as I brought the blanket higher up over us.

“Sweet dreams, angel,” I teased with a smile.

LETHIA

I was falling down to the depths beneath the earth.

My body felt weightless as the darkness underneath me started to creep without warning of when I would hit the ground. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears as I reached up towards the space in front of me, hoping by some miracle I’d be able to latch onto something.

Just as I braced for impact, the scenery changed and no longer was I falling. Instead I was standing in this unknown darkness in my angel form and my wings shook with the uncertainty of what would jump out.

“Hello?” I called out cautiously.

The silence was deafening and I couldn’t tell which way was right as I spun on my heels, my wings not even making a sound in this unknown void.

“The faith and the fighter.”

I froze at the deep voice. It sounded far away yet at the same time like it was spoken right in my ear.

“Lighting up the streets, singing for the damned.”

I whirled around, the voice now sounding farther away but I could feel the breath on the back of my neck. There was something so familiar about the richness of the voice but ice cold fear crept into my bones.

“Confessing to the choir.”

It was as if the voice was right in front of me, the warm breath fanning over my lips and I shuddered when the familiar smell tickled my nose.

No, it couldn’t be. There was no way he could be here. He couldn’t have found me.

Although, Maraxa did know where I was hiding and she could have easily told him where I was.

The all too familiar heat spread in my veins that made my wings flutter, the noise absent in the darkness. He was so close now, the anger radiating off of him in droves and I nearly collapsed with how it crushed my throat, making it hard to breathe.

Suddenly loud footsteps smacked on the ground at my feet, closer and closer. It came from in front, behind me, and on both sides. It sounded as if someone was running but I couldn’t figure out which direction.

A face appeared out of the darkness, bathed in a red glow but the even darker circles around those eyes made a broken cry fall from my lips.

“Bury every beast and we are born again!” Lucifer’s wicked smile spread across his face, showcasing the sharpness of his teeth.

The scene around me shifted, the warmth now overtaking me as I found myself standing in the middle of flames. It licked up my arms but I couldn’t feel the sting of pain. Through the lick of fire, a lone figure stood out and the pain from his screams stabbed me in my chest.

No.

No, no, no.

It isn’t.

A hand outstretched towards me, begging to be pulled from the fiery depths of Hell, and my eyes took in the sight of a tattoo; some kind of mandala flower.

“Lethia!”

I took a step towards the hand but hissed in pain when the flames caressed my skin.

“Please. Help me!”

Tears welled in my eyes as his name choked on my tongue. “No-Noah!”

“You can’t save him, my sweet Oblivion. His soul is mine,” Lucifer’s voice tickled my ear. “Just like yours is about to be.”

I woke up with a start, sitting up in bed and feeling the cool beads of sweat trickle down my back. My breathing was erratic and my veins were pumping the blood in my body so violently, I could hear it in my ears.

Noah stirred next to me and reached for me, wrapping the mandala flower tattooed hand on my thigh. I watched as his hand squeezed but felt absolutely nothing. Then that hand reached up to cup my cheek, dragging his thumb over the sharpness of my cheekbone.

Once again not able to feel anything.

I watched as his hand wrapped around behind my neck, bringing our lips together. The base of my spine vibrated, telling me that Noah’s tongue was brushing over mine. But the images of what I’d seen were hindering me, useless, unable to respond.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice was laced with exhaustion and there was guilt eating away at me for waking him up.

“I’m fine,” I dragged through my hair, trying to ease the pounding of my heart.

Noah sat up in bed, his own sleep tousled hair a mess, but he still looked gorgeous.

“It doesn’t seem like you’re fine. You’re acting like you had a nightmare?”

I thought about for a moment of lying, keeping up the ruse that I was fine, but deep down I knew I wouldn’t be.

“I don’t dream, so whatever this was,” I let out a shaky breath, trying to compose myself. “It felt too real. The flames when I tried to reach for you.”

Noah stiffened. “Flames?”

I turned towards him, pulling my knees to my chest and rested my chin on them. “I wasn’t in my own dream. I was in his.”

When Noah gave me a look of confusion, I bit my lip and said his name with fear.

“Lucifer.”

A bunch of different emotions passed through his face and I wasn’t sure how he was going to react.

“You saw me in the flames?” He asked.

I then reiterated the whole scene for him from beginning to end, not leaving any details out. Quickly, Noah left the bed to begin pacing his room and the red LED lights casted him in the same glow I’d seen Lucifer. I shuddered with that same fear, slowly sinking farther away from Noah.

“It sounds like an omen, Lethia. Lucifer shows up in your dream, tells you my soul is his. Am I going to die?” He stopped pacing to run a hand over his face.

Your lips parted to speak but hesitated for a moment to which Noah took the opportunity to speak again.

“Is that why you fell? You were sent here to tell me I’m going to die?”

“That’s not-,” I shook my head, still in my crouched position on his bed.

Noah chuckled dryly. “If that’s the case, why didn’t you tell me in the beginning? Why waste my fucking time with everything?”

My eyes narrowed. “I can assure you that I wasn’t wasting your time, Noah. It’s just that I'm still learning things. Figuring out why I fell into this time and not where Lucifer fell.”

Noah halted his pacing, dark eyes pinning me. “Is he going to stop looking for you?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed while resting my head against the wall next to Noah’s bed.

Silence fell between us for a long moment and Noah remained unmoving, eyes staring straight at me.

“What’s the point of this, Lethia?” He asked.

My eyes snapped away from the sharpness of my nails and sliced them into him. “Excuse me?”

“Lucifer won’t stop looking for you. He wants you back and it’s probably better that you’re with him instead of me,” Noah said with his hands on his hips.

I couldn’t figure out where the shift in attitude came from and it had me rising from the bed so I could stand toe to toe with him.

“This is pointless,” he continued. “You can’t feel my touch. You can’t feel anything about me. How would a relationship between us work?”

My face turned to stone, crimson eyes deepening with his words.

“That’s not fair, Noah. That’s not anything I can control,” I reminded him.

“Is that why you just magically dropped here?” He scoffed. “If I was going to fucking die you should have told me from day one.”

“I didn’t know. I swear,” I almost begged for him to believe me.

He didn’t say a thing, simply shrugged before crossing his arms over his chest. The silence between us was deafening and when I felt the tears burning in the corners of my eyes, I stood up straighter. I refused to cry for this mortal, no matter how I felt about him.

“Fuck this,” I grumbled while ripping my jacket from one of the hooks in his room and throwing it on me.

When I brushed past him, slamming my shoulder into his, Noah stumbled back but I gave no indication the push impacted me. But when the lone tear slipped down my cheek, I could hear his soft intake of breath.

“Lethia, I’m-.”

“Save it! I’m going to get some air,” I spat while slamming his bedroom door shut behind me.

By now, his roommates were awake and lingering throughout the house downstairs. As I reached the front door, Michael’s voice called out after me.

“Lethia, are you alright?”

But I didn’t bother saying anything. It wasn’t worth it. None of these mortals mattered anymore. My life wasn’t something that concerned them anymore and in the haste of my fight with Noah, I had one goal in mind.

Find Uriel.

However, my thunderous footsteps stopped when four figures stepped out of the dark street and boxed me in. My head snapped in all different directions and when the one familiar face stepped even closer, a low scowl pulled on my face.

“Ceecee,” I snarled.

The man adjusted the black bandana around his forehead before winking. “Nice to see you as well, Lethia. Although I must say, you’ve changed since we've seen you last.”

I rolled my eyes. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

The man with spiked up black hair spoke next. “Do you know how long we’d been looking for you?”

“For all eternity, Jake?” I joked with not an ounce of humor in my voice.

“I never remembered you being such a jokester,” said Jinx, one of the other men.

I turned towards him with an unamused shrug. “But I do remember Lucifer always sending his little bitches to do his dirty work.”

The last man, taller than the others, wore a sour smile.

“Always the conversationalist, Lonny,” I faux sighed. “Nothing to say this time?”

His dark eyes never left my face. “I said everything I needed to say before.”

“Oh, that’s right,” I snapped. “You accused me of keeping Lucifer from his true potential. I was a snake in the grass.”

“Was I wrong?” Lonny extended his hands wide. “We all fell for your transgression.”

My upper lip recoiled. “Lucifer led me astray. It’s because of his betrayal to the King we all fell.”

Ceecee made a show of groaning while tying away the long strands of hair from his face. “You can come with us the easy way or the hard way.”

“NO! Please, not the hard way,” I overplayed my helpless voice before a dark chuckle fell from my lips. “We know all of you together are no match for me. I was higher ranked than you four up in the Kingdom.”

“Things are different now,” Jake said, his leather jacket slick from the earlier rain.

“You know, I’m surprised Maraxa isn’t here,” I clicked my tongue.

Lonny chuckled low behind me. “Lucifer was upset with her failed attempts so she’s chained in hell.”

I cocked a brow while glancing over my shoulder at him. “I take it as Lucifer is there, watching her beg for his forgiveness?”

“No, he’s actually been up here in the mortal realm for quite some time. Closer than you think,” Jinxed explained.

My arms were extended wide with a playful smirk on my lips. “I’m right here. Tell him to come and get me.”

“I already have.”

A voice inside my mind spoke and my wings exploded from my back as I turned towards that voice only to be met with darkness as it overtook all of my senses.

NOAH

I sat in my computer chair, knee bouncing so fast I was sure the guys could hear the floor shaking downstairs. I couldn’t stop biting the skin on the pad of my thumb as the worry began eating away at me. Lethia had been gone for almost an hour and with no way to reach her, I was at a loss of what to do.

I never meant the things I said. Us being together, whatever this relationship was, wasn’t pointless. I knew it was wrong of me to use the fact she couldn't feel my touch against her but when Lethia told me that Lucifer was not only after her soul but mine as well, I got scared. If you would have told me last month that I’d find myself falling for a fallen angel and had to worry about Lucifer coming after her, I would have laughed in your face.

My life had been soley Bad Omens until Lethia arrived. Now things changed and Lethia slowly became top on my priority list. For example, finding where she went.

Just as I sat up from my chair, ready to head downstairs and ask the guys for help, Jesse appeared at the open doorway of my bedroom.

“Hey,” he said. “Everything alright?”

No. Far from it. My girlfriend's, who's not my girlfriend, her ex-boyfriend is after her soul and mine.

I shifted on my feet while stuffing my hands in my pockets. “I don’t think so. Lethia and I had a fight. She stormed out of here almost an hour ago and I thought she’d be back by now but I’m worried something is wrong.”

Jesse nodded and held out his keys. “We can take my car.”

Quickly slipping on a sweater, I followed him down the stairs and filled in the rest of the guys in on our plan. To which Jolly and Orie said they’d go out looking as well and Michael would stay in case she came back.

Two hours later after scouring almost all of downtown L.A and our neighborhood twice, there was no sign of Lethia. But it wasn’t until we were walking back up the steps to the house that my eyes caught sight of the large black feather there.

How had I missed that before?

I gently covered it with my shoe as Orie, Jolly, and Jesse walked up.

“Have you tried calling her?” Orie wondered.

“Voicemail,” I lied, knowing she didn’t have a phone.

It was now mid afternoon and I knew the guys had plans to work on the studio for a bit so after thanking them for their help, I told them I was going to hang outside for the time being.

Once alone, I hastily picked up the feather beneath my shoe and felt that all too familiar feeling of my soul being dragged through the dark subconscious of Lethia’s mind.

I landed five houses down from my own to see a group of four men standing over the crumbled body of Lethia, who was protecting herself with her large wings.

“Hm, it’s a shame what she became. Are we sure he’ll even want her back,” a man wearing a bandana asked.

The tallest of the group and dark curly hair snorted. “If he doesn’t, I’m sure we could find use for her down there. We’re always in need of slaves.”

One of the men with spiky hair lifted Lethia’s body with ease and it was then I got a good look at her face. No marks indicating she was hurt but my heart stopped in my chest when I noticed how white and vacant her eyes were.

“Is Lucifer in the same place we left him?”

The man with the bandana nodded. “As soon as he found out where Lethia was staying, he refused to leave. He wanted to remain close.”

“Remember what he said Jake, not a hair on her head is to be misplaced. He wants her in all her glory.”

Jake rolled his eyes while adjusting his grip on Lethia. “How do you think he’ll react when he smells that mortal on her?”

“It will be a death that I cannot wait to experience,” The taller man smirked before all four of them extended their wings, all differentiating in size and color.

My eyes blinked a few times as I felt the earth tilt back on its axis, everything coming back to me with a force that had my breath shaking. Four angels took Lethia and they had plans to bring her back to Lucifer. I didn’t know where but what I did know was that they were close. And that once he found out Lethia and I had been together, it would only mean one thing for her.

Death.

“Fuck,” I raked a shaking hand through my hair. “Fuck!”

The sounds of fluttering wings echoed behind me and I swiftly turned on my feet, expecting to see Lethia but instead saw the crow. It was perched on a branch up in the large willow tree in our yard and its wings were extended wide, showcasing the white stripe between its feathers.

“Where is she?” I asked the bird.

Its response was a simple caw.

“You’re her familiar. You know where she is,” my voice raised.

Now the crow didn’t make a noise. Its dark eyes watched me intently as I did the same to it. I could feel the anger beginning to boil over that stemmed from my fight with Lethia and an afternoon spent trying to look for her, only to be met with this fucking bird that wouldn’t stop staring at me.

“If you’re not going to be any fucking help, then leave me alone!” I yelled while throwing a rock at the bird, hitting its left wing.

It cried out in pain before fluttering out of the tree and off into a direction I didn’t bother to follow. There was only one way I could possibly talk with Lethia and figure out where she was.

I needed to go to sleep.

LETHIA

My eyes slowly opened, a feeling behind them causing a slight groan to fall from my lips. This was a new feeling; pain. I hadn't felt something like this since I fell to earth all those months ago.

So why could I feel my insides burning?

Groggily looking to my left, I took in the chains around my wrist with a curious pull of my brows. There were markings all along the cuffs and my eyes doubled when I recognized those markings.

Ancient markings. Ones that hadn't been seen in eons.

Ancient markings that were created for one thing and one thing only. I knew because it was me who created them.

Power binding markings. To help keep an angel trapped in imprisonment.

"No, no," I whispered, trying with all my strength to fight against my bindings.

It was futile. There was no way out.

When I looked to my right and saw the same bindings, I did my best to remain calm. There had to be a way out of this. I was the one who created these sigils, surely I could find a way out.

I thought back to what happened moments before my capture. The fight, the accusations, and the hurt look in his eyes.

"Noah," I breathed while closing my eyes, trying to dream walk into his mind.

Blocked.

Cursing under my breath, I knew the reason why I was blocked had to be because he wasn't asleep.

A sudden movement from my left made my head snap up and the rage festered low in my gut when those four familiar men stepped into view.

"You were always the ones sent to do his dirty work," I chuckled while rising to my knees.

Ceecee smiled wickedly. "He was tired of waiting. Maraxa clearly wasn't the right one for the job."

I clicked my tongue against my teeth. "Right, you said she’s chained in hell. Was that before or after trying to get into bed with him?"

"No, malach. That place belongs to you."

I froze at hearing that name; it had been so fucking long since it was uttered in my presence.

Angel in Hebrew.

There was only one being that ever called me that.

No. No. No. It can't be.

The dark voice loomed in the shadows and I whirled my head to the right in time to see his face emerge from the darkness; those piercing blue eyes locking into my soul.

"Lucifer," I shuddered while pulling on the bindings, to no avail.

He cocked his head to the side, those eyes drinking in the sight of me before he bent low to his knees. Our faces were mere inches from each other and with one gaze down to those lips, memories of us lying together up in the Kingdom replayed in my mind on a loop.

I couldn’t figure out why he looked different from the images I had been seeing around town lately.

“I played with your mind, creating a different version of me. It was easy to control you, Lethia. Your mind has become weak since the fall,” Jinx said.

I snarled while rising to my feet, ready to attack, but was pulled back by my bindings.

“I should have known you were inside my mind, Jinx. This entire time, I thought it was Maraxa.”

He chuckled darkly while crossing his arms over his chest. “Please, she was weak before the fall. She couldn’t hold a candle to the things I’ve done.”

Lucifer held up a hand when I was about to have a witty remark.

“Enough!” His voice boomed throughout the small room I was held in.

The four men behind him slinked farther back into the darkness, like puppies who were just scolded for chewing something they shouldn’t have.

“Lucifer’s bitches,” I repeated my words from earlier with a smirk.

His hand gently cupped my cheek, forcing me to look at him in those blue depths.

"I haven't been called Lucifer in quite some time, not since the fall. Humans aren't too keen on it when you tell them your name is literally the devil. You can call me my mortal name."

I swallowed thickly. "Which is?"

The grin that spread to his face was a wicked one and made my heart drop with fear.

“You can call me Andy.”

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian angst #noah sebastian x fallenangel!oc #mercy noah sebastian

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ladamedusoif · 13 hours

Text

Tempered in the Fire - Part Four

See the Series Masterlist for complete content warnings, historical event information, and series notes.

Cross-posted to AO3. Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications for updates.

Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F! Reader

Summary: Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798. You are an unusual woman: married, but alone; a widow, with no certainty her husband is dead. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel to the next forge, run by a man of few words whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals. You are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure - and the striking little boy he’s taken as his apprentice.

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI (chapter; series)

Content (chapter specific): Blacksmith!Din AU; historical setting; angst; smut; violence; unprotected PiV sex; oral sex (F and M receiving); racist (anti-Traveller) language; period-typical misogyny; references to domestic physical, emotional, and sexual abuse; references to family loss and death; abusive and derogatory language; strong language.

Translations for the Irish language provided throughout as needed, though I have not translated mo chuisle as a term of endearment (it literally means 'my pulse', more usually used as 'my love').

A/N: I am so, so sorry for the gap between chapters here and am grateful to the readers who've been so patient! Thanks, too, as ever, to @paulmescal-s for working through the gnarlier bits of this story with me and being such a great sort-of beta.

In the future, after many years had passed, you would find it hard to remember exactly how much time you had together, at the forge, before the hard reality came knocking at your door. Those days and nights of domestic happiness could never have been enough.

By day, you keep house, sew, and bake. Each morning, you do some basic reading and writing with Gró, or take the little boy around the hedgerows and trees at the boundary of the property, teaching him the names of plants and animals. Din had explained your presence to him, and he beamed every morning when his father carried him down the attic ladder and he saw you again.

Din, so used to being the lone adult in the household, insists on contributing to the routine: cooking, cleaning, setting the fire. It feels so natural, so right - and yet a blade dangles over this strange little found family, ready to drop at any moment.

Each evening, Din readies Gró for bed, sometimes bathing his son in a tin bath in front of the fire while you tell him a story by way of distraction. It has quickly become a highlight of the blacksmith’s day, these moments where he watches as you make his beloved boy squeal with laughter, or hold his rapt attention with the twists and turns of a tale.

They were content and settled, this clan of two. But Din couldn’t help the daydreams about a clan of three that sometimes flashed through his mind.

He took every opportunity he could to touch you throughout the day. A squeeze of your hand at the breakfast table as Gró drained his cup of milk. A discreet kiss to your cheek as he made his way into the forge for his morning’s work. A gentle caress of your waist as he passes you while you’re laying the table for the main meal, taken in the middle of the day.

With Gró settled and asleep in the loft, the two of you moved more hastily in the evenings, now, to sort the things for breakfast and smother the fire. The sooner the chores were done, after all, the sooner you could shed your clothes and climb into his bed together.

The nervous caution of your first time together soon dissipated as you grew more familiar with each other, more in tune with each other’s needs and desires. For all his inexperience and your difficult past, the two of you are perfectly-matched lovers. The feeling of Din’s broad body on yours, glistening with sweat, begins to exorcise the demons of the past. You ride him on top, one hand intertwined with his as he squeezes your breasts and watches you come. He slips his cock inside you one morning as you’re lying together, your back pressed to his chest, and fucks you slowly and carefully until you’re both coming quietly, mouths pushed into the pillows. One evening, he was even too impatient for bed, hitching up your skirts and taking you over the heavy wooden table, hand pressed against your mouth as you whined against his palm.

“I want to learn you,” Din whispered one night, easing your long shift off so that you were completely bare, lying alongside his own naked body.

You traced your fingertips along the softness of his lips. “Learn me?”

His strong, clever fingers roamed over you as he nodded. “Learn you. Know you, all of you.” He squeezed your tits softly, sucking gently on each nipple. “Commit you to memory. How you feel, how you fit together. Do you like this?”

You wound your fingers through his messy curls and nodded. He followed the curves of your body with his broad, calloused hands, moving over your waist and holding your hips firmly as he reverently kissed your belly. He took his time, hands memorising the exact shape and volume of your form.

“You are a beauty, mo chuisle,” he murmured, dark eyes looking up at you from between your legs. “So lovely and soft and warm.”

His fingers pressed into the meat of your thighs as he mapped you out, and you felt the wetness between your legs as your hips bucked upwards, legs parting instinctively.

“Can I…see, mo chuisle?” Din’s palm grazed over the hair covering your mound. “See you…see you here?”

“Of course, my darling.” You opened your legs wider for him, watching as his eyes grew round in awe, before darkening with lust. He reached for his cock, whimpering a little as he stroked himself.

“That’s beautiful.” He had shifted his head closer to your centre, his expression a little bashful. “I’d like to kiss you here. Would that be alright?”

“Please, darling,” you hissed. “Put your mouth on me.”

“I’ve never…” He exhaled nervously as he settled between your legs, fingers already playing with your wet folds. “Never even thought of this, but…”

You ran your fingers through his hair and smiled, understanding what he was trying to say. “You’ll know just what to do, love.”

This was new to you, too, though you had heard of men doing it to their girls, especially if they were not meant to lie together. Your friend Mary had, just prior to her marriage, confided in you that she and her betrothed had found a way to sate their passions without the risk of her falling pregnant before the wedding.

“The mouth is a great thing, all the same,” she’d said, dangling her bare feet in the cool water of the local river on a warm summer day as the two of you lazed on the grassy bank, skirts hitched to your knees. She had explained the mechanisms of it to you, chuckling at your sceptical expression.

“Just wait, girleen. Just you wait and see.”

Now Din’s soft, plush lips were pressed against your slit, tongue tasting your wetness, and you finally understood what she meant. It was heaven: the way his lips brushed against the little bundle of nerves and made your whole body convulse with pleasure, the sensation of his patchy beard against your thighs, how he began to slip his tongue in and out of you. His grunts and moans vibrated against your core and you came hard against him, giggling when you saw the slick glistening all over his smiling face.

In the nights to come, you returned the favour, languidly sucking and licking at his perfect cock while he held your head in place with his broad hands, hips bucking up against you as he groaned with sheer pleasure.

You paused, reminding him that he needed to be quieter, before slipping his cock between your lips again. “‘S not my fault, mo chuisle,” he panted, eyes locked on how his hard length disappeared into your pretty mouth. “Feels far too good.”

As he came in your mouth for the first time, you’d looked up at his beautiful face, release and pleasure and affection written on every part of it, and begged whatever deity might listen to let you stay here forever.

Din is more comfortable showing his feelings through actions, physical gestures, than words. Little by little, though, you notice him opening up more, saying more. Not that he’d ever be what you could consider a talker.

One night, nestled together, you ask him to tell you about himself.

"I want to hear your story, Din.” The comforting caress of your hand against his face makes him smile softly.

"I don’t know what there is to tell.”

You cuddle closer to him, enjoying the feel of his solid frame against you. “Well, I don’t know much about your family, for one…”

He shifts a little in bed and for an instant you worry you have overstepped the mark.

“It’s not a very happy story, mo chuisle, but if you want to know…”

A kiss to the expanse of broad, tanned chest exposed at the neck of his nightshirt. “I want to know. If you want to tell me.”

He finds your hand and presses it to his chest, seeking reassurance in your familiar touch, and taking a deep breath before he begins to whisper his story to you.

"I’m a travelling person. I don’t know where I was born - other than that it was probably somewhere towards the west of the country, on a campsite. I have - had - an older sister, a younger brother. Lived off the money from whatever work my father could get - fixing pots and pans, mostly, sometimes farm labour, depending on the season.”

"A hard living.”

He nods, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. “Hard, but loving.” He inhales deeply, again, before continuing.

"We were never really wanted anywhere. Moved on, camps disturbed, even attacked, sometimes. We learned quickly how to hide at the first sign of trouble.”

He closes his eyes, a flash of sorrow crossing his beautiful features in the moonlight coming through the little cottage window. “I suppose that’s what saved me.”

For a few moments, Din is quiet.

“We had camped on land that was part of some big estate, belonging to Lord somebody or other. The usual situation. My father and a couple of our other men went fishing the first day and poaching the first night, to get us some food. I can still see the scales of the big salmon he caught, glinting in the firelight as my mother cleaned it.”

"A feast.”

He nods, a little smile on his lips at the memory, before his features darken again. “But not our feast to take. The lord’s feast, by virtue of the land being given to him by some far-off king.” He shakes his head ruefully.

"I was coming back with some cans of water the next morning when I heard shouting. The glimpses of red moving towards the camp - the yeomanry. The landlord set them on us, and they gave us no quarter. When some of our men and women tried to defend our few possessions, they - well, they turned violent.”

You hold him close, feeling the anguish in his breathing.

"I saw my father fall, killed by a blow to the head with the butt of a yeoman’s musket. My mother caught a glimpse of me, roared at me to run, to hide, and to my eternal shame I did just that. I didn’t go to them. I ran.”

"She wanted you to live, Din. She was saving you.”

He swallows hard, audible in the stillness of the night.

“The local priest found me a couple of days later, still carrying the empty can. I’d hidden in a ditch, ate blackberries to survive. He arranged for the local blacksmith and his wife to take me in, train me as an apprentice.”

He pauses again. You realise this is the most he’s probably ever said to you in one go.

“When the time came, I took to the roads myself, honing the craft before I could set up on my own. I wasn’t long back when the priest called, saying a cousin in the east knew of an empty forge in need of a good smith.”

"And that’s how you came here?”

Din nods. “That’s how I came to be here.”

You venture a sensitive question. “Din… what happened to your mother, your siblings?”

"Poorhouse. No other choice.”

Silence.

"I didn’t know where they’d gone. So much sickness in those godforsaken places…”

Another pause.

”My brother died first. Then my sister, and then my mother.”

Your voice is tiny, barely a whisper. “Did you… see them?”

"By the time we found out what poorhouse they were in… it was too late.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you do your best not to let them fall. This is his story, his grief, not yours. Instead, you shift up the bed a little, still holding his warm body close, and lean in to caress and kiss him.

There’s a wet, salty tang on his cheek. You kiss away the silent tear.

For a moment, you think of what Din told you about how he came to adopt Gró: his unwillingness to let the boy go to a poorhouse or orphanage, his desire to protect and train the child, just as he himself had once been taken in by the smith and his wife. Just as he, himself, had once been a lost little boy.

You press your lips to the messy curls at the crown of his head.

There are times when you almost forget that you’re not really meant to be here, so natural and right does it feel. And then you are jolted back, reluctantly, to a reality where you are still technically the wife of a violent, cruel man who could claim you at any moment.

That afternoon, you hear the sound of horses approaching and immediately disappear up to the loft, as usual, until you know it’s safe to descend. You listen attentively as the door opens and breathe a sigh of relief when Gró’s delighted little voice greets Peigí, here on one of her regular visits. You hear Din enter the cottage from the forge, chatting companionably to his old friend, and make for the ladder.

You’re a few rungs down when you hear a second, less familiar voice.

“So where is she, Din?”

He stutters, the panic evident in his voice. You wonder if you can make it back to the loft.

Too late.

Father Carthy hears the sound of your skirts and turns, greeting you by name in grave tones.

“You might as well come and join us, my child.”

Peigí’s gaze is apologetic as you climb down the ladder and move to join the little cluster of adults, Din having sent Gró outside to play. You stand beside him, arms wrapped protectively over your body, resisting the urge to reach for his hand.

“I’m sorry, girleen.” Peigí wrings her hands, expression anxious and sorrowful. “Father came to see me today before I left for the forge, I couldn’t turn him out.”

You meet Father Carthy’s eyes with a look of defiance, straightening yourself to your full height, silently demanding an explanation.

“I am not here to force you home. I know your…situation.” The priest exhales deeply, fingers fiddling with the little black buttons on his long robes. “And between us and the wall and the Lord Almighty, if that kind of cruelty and abandonment was grounds for annulment… well.”

The back of Din’s hand brushes almost imperceptibly against yours.

“But you are still a married woman, and…” The cleric sighs apologetically. “My child, you were seen here. Out in the back field, with the boy. And if I’ve heard it, and people are talking, then it’s only a matter of time before -”

You interject in a low, steady voice. “Before Searlas finds out where I am.”

The priest nods sadly. “That’s why I came here. Why I came with Peigí, specifically. We… have a suggestion.” He looks expectantly at Peigí, who offers you an encouraging smile as she nods in agreement.

“My sister, Rosie - she’s in the next county, big farm, spinster, plenty of space and could do with the help. You could stay there for a bit and then come home to your own place - until they change the garrison, surely, or that wastrel Searlas can be warned off…”

You bite your lip, mulling it over.

“I mean, maybe he’s not going to come looking for me.”

Peigí and the priest exchange a concerned glance. The cleric clasps his hands together and looks at you sympathetically.

“The thing is… I have eyes and ears, as it were, in the barracks, and in the public house preferred by the garrison. I didn’t want to tell you, my dear, in case it frightened you - but he has been talking about you.” He purses his lips, almost afraid to tell you the truth. “He has openly talked about finding you, about… claiming you. And if he finds out you’ve been staying here, with a bachelor - think of your reputation, my child.”

You let out an involuntary sob, and Peigí places a comforting hand on your arm. “I think you need to be gone tomorrow, girleen. At the latest. I’m sorry, I know it’s awful quick, but…”

For the first time, Din speaks. His voice is low, controlled, serious.

“But you - I mean, she must be kept safe.” He looks at you, dark eyes full of care and concern. “If you want to stay, I will keep you safe. I promise.”

There’s nothing more you want in the world than to throw your arms around him and let him protect you, just as you long to protect him from the sorrows of his past. But his description of the day he lost his parents echoes in your mind, as does the tension that crackled in the air the day the soldiers were at the forge. You cannot - will not - bring that down on him again, nor on Gró.

“Din, if I stay here I fear that none of us will be safe. Not you, not me, not Gró. I couldn’t take that risk, my d-” You catch yourself just in time. “I mean, my dear friend.”

Peigí’s wise, inquisitive eyes dart between you and Din, and she emits a low, intrigued hum.

Din exhales in frustration. “I said I would keep you safe, here. I mean it.”

Father Carthy places a paternal hand on Din’s shoulder, expression gentle but resigned. “She’s right, Din, and you know it. Apart from her own reputation - you don’t want a troop of redcoats landing on the doorstep, do you? Think of your home, your livelihood - your son.”

The blacksmith’s expression is defiant, but you can see the reality of the situation dawning on him as the light fades from his beautiful eyes. He nods, silent, a hand twisting at the soft, worn leather of his apron.

“Early as we can after dawn tomorrow, then?” Peigí squeezes your hand as she waits for your answer.

You cannot bring yourself to look at Din as you nod in agreement.

It is still bright outside, just about, when Gró is settled for bed and the dinner things cleared and tidied away. You have packed up your saddlebags in silence, fighting the tears that threaten to fall at any moment.

Din’s broad hand reaches around your waist as he moves past you, pulling you close to him. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, kissing the delicate skin.

“Can we take a little walk, mo chuisle? Before night falls?”

You face him, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingers. “A little one. Don’t forget there’s a little boy asleep in the loft, we can’t go too far.”

He presses his lips to your fingertips before kissing you on the forehead.

You walk hand in hand in the dusk, wandering through the field at the back of the forge towards the old oak tree that stands at the boundary of the property. Din is quiet - even quieter than usual, just casting occasional glances in your direction and squeezing your hand with a gentle smile.

In the shadow of the oak, he kisses you deeply, pressing your body against the tree as he holds your face in his big, strong hands.

“I don’t want to go, Din.”

“I don’t want you to go, mo chuisle.” He kisses you again, chastely, and looks in your eyes. A question hovers on the tip of his tongue.

“Tell me, my darling.”

He holds your hands, grounding himself a little in your comforting touch.

“I want you to take Gró to Peigí’s sister’s. Please.”

Even in the half-light, he can read the shock on your face.

“Oh, Din, I… I couldn’t. I couldn’t see the two of you parted, he’d be lost without you and you without him and-”

He shakes his head firmly. “I have to keep you safe - both of you. And if a gang of redcoats turned up and it was just me and him…”

He saw his father die.

“He’s your son.”

Din nods. “He is. And I can’t leave him alone again.”

He lost his entire family.

“He might not want to leave with me.”

“I’ve explained it to him. He knows it’s not forever, he understands the reasons why.” You catch a glimpse of his smile, a beacon of hope in the twilight.

“Mo chuisle, you’re the closest thing he has to a mother in this world.”

You hold each other close through the night, afraid to sleep lest you miss a single second of this time together.

Din tucks his face into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply and softly kissing the exposed skin of your shoulders. You wind your fingers through his hair, trying to memorise the rhythm of his heartbeat and his breath.

"You should sleep, mo chuisle,” he whispers against your body. “Tomorrow will be a hard one.”

"Says you,” you whisper in return, enough to elicit a muffled chuckle from the blacksmith.

He pulls away to look you in the eye, fingers mapping the shape of your features. Even in the low light, you can see how his beautiful eyes glisten: this strong and stoic man, fighting the tears that threaten to fall.

You take his hand and guide it down your body, pausing to hitch up your shift and open your legs. You inhale sharply as his fingers find your pussy, well-practiced now from nights and early mornings spent pleasuring you.

With a shift of your hips you roll onto your back, bringing Din on top of you. You pause to take in the sight, suppressing the gnawing feeling that this might well be the last time. The glint in his dark eyes. The moonlight illuminating his features. The feeling of his strong, broad body above you, perfectly positioned between your thighs.

“Make love to me, Din.”

He does so slowly, carefully, anchoring himself with one hand on your hip and the other still caressing the side of your face. You kiss as he fucks you, your whines absorbed by his soft mouth. No man had ever made you come before Din, you muse, as your cunt pulses around him and you near the edge. No man had ever made you feel like this - not just physically, but emotionally, too. Sex was presented to you before your marriage as a duty, not a pleasure. With Din, though, lovemaking felt like the most beautiful, natural expression of the spiritual connection that existed between the two of you.

You come almost simultaneously, Din groaning into your shoulder as he fills you with his seed, you biting your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Still inside you, he kisses you, over and over, your hands trailing through his wavy brown locks and fingers grazing against the rough, patchy stubble of his jaw.

For a moment, you think he’s about to say something. But all he does is kiss you.

It’s still dark outside when you wake, but there’s a comforting glow inside the cottage. You sit up in bed, turning to see Din stoking a small fire in the hearth. He has lit the lamp on the mantle, its flickering yellow flame casting light and shadow through the glass.

You dress quickly, shivering as your body adjusts to the colder air after the warmth of your shared bed, and cross the room to the little cupboard that holds the few pieces of crockery Din owns. By the time he has climbed the attic ladder to rouse the boy, you’ve set the table for a simple breakfast of bread, butter, and the last of the jam you’d brought with you.

Gró’s fair hair peeks over his father’s broad shoulder as Din carries him down the ladder. The little boy is still half-asleep, eyes still closed and nestled into the blacksmith’s frame. Din carefully slides him into his usual seat at the table, ruffling his son’s hair as Gró rubs his eyes and yawns.

“I think some bread and jam will help wake you up, hmmm?” You take a couple of slices of bread from the dish and place them on the boy’s little plate, before pushing the jar of jam in his direction. His dark eyes widen as he looks at you, astonished. This is a rare treat, indeed: usually it’s you or Din who spreads the sweet conserve on his bread, as Gró is liable to be heavy-handed. But this is not a day for rules or restrictions.

“You can have as much as you like, little one.”

The tears threaten at the sight of Gró enthusiastically scraping the jam out of the earthenware pot, a huge smile on his face as he spoons it liberally onto the soda bread. He takes a huge bite and hums delightedly, before turning to you and beaming. The little boy already has blobs of jam on his cheeks and nose, and the sight makes you chuckle.

Din returns to the main room carrying a small knapsack containing Gró’s things. He places it alongside your saddlebags before he joins the two of you at the table, giving your hand a squeeze that, you suspect, is intended to reassure him as much as it is you. He keeps a smile on his face, keeps his tone cheery and light, even as his eyes glisten with tears.

You are saddling Réaltín in the dawn light when Peigí appears down the lane, wrapped in a rough brown cloak and riding her small grey mount. She dismounts swiftly and nods to you.

“All set?”

“I think so. I left the two on their own for a little bit, just to… well, you know.” You swallow hard and look in the direction of the forge. “It’ll be hard for them.”

Peigí hums in agreement. “Aye, ’twill. But Din’s right. And hopefully that bollocks of a so-called husband will be out of the picture soon enough and you can come home. The prick.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the venom in her tone. “Hopefully. I’m awful grateful to you and your sister, Peigí. I mean, maybe we’re being overly cautious, but…”

She shakes her head, russet curls bouncing. “Not a bit of it. You can never tell with a fucker like that.” The cottage door opens, and Din appears, Gró securely held in his strong arms.

“And there’s the best boy in all of Ireland!” Peigí races over, taking the knapsack and planting a kiss on Gró’s cheek. “We should probably get going, girleen.”

She tactfully retreats to the horses, giving you, Din, and Gró some space to say your goodbyes. You feel the blacksmith’s broad arm snake around your waist, uncaring as to whether Peigí saw the affectionate gesture - or, more likely, all too aware that she knew exactly what was going on.

The little boy brings a hand up to touch his father’s handsome face, big eyes scanning Din’s features as if he’s committing them to memory.

“Ná bíodh eagla ort, grá mo chroí.” [Don’t be afraid, love] The blacksmith smiles, but he’s fighting back the tears as he kisses his son’s golden hair. Instinctively, you rest your head on Din’s shoulder, trying to keep your own emotions in check.

Gró’s dark eyes fill with tears and his father comforts him with cuddles. “You’ll have a lovely time on the farm, won’t you? And you’ll look after her while you’re on your visit.” He looks at you, and you nod, smiling at Gró.

“Of course he will. He’s a big, brave lad.” The little boy grins at the praise before flinging his arms around Din’s neck for a final tight hug.

“Be good, and take this.” Din reaches into his pocket to produce a small, silvery chain, evidently made by his own hands. A metal disc dangles from it, and you realise that Din has engraved it with his son’s name. He places it over the boy’s head, smiling at Gró as he picks up the pendant and coos at the shiny object.

“We should get going, lads.” Peigí’s voice carries in the still of the early morning, and Din passes his son to you. Gró nuzzles against you, still holding on to the little pendant that hangs from his neck.

Din’s long fingers find your hand and press something into your palm. He leans in to kiss your cheek. His voice, warm but wavering with emotion, whispers in your ear.

“Is tú mo ghrá thú, mo chuisle.” [You are my love, my darling.]

You stifle the sob that’s rising in your chest.

“I love you too, Din.”

Peigí’s sister Rosie shares her sister’s hardy, forthright personality and her tightly curled auburn hair, but not a lot else. Where Peigí is small, Rosie is tall; where Peigí is talkative and open, Rosie is quiet and reserved. Still, her welcome is genuine, her home comfortable, and you feel at ease from the moment you cross the threshold after a long day’s journey to some semblance of sanctuary.

You retire quickly once you’ve been fed and watered, Peigí sharing with Rosie while you and Gró make do with a settle bed. The little boy falls asleep almost immediately, and you gently kiss his soft cheek, willing him to know that it comes from his father, too.

With the household abed, you can finally look again at Din’s parting gift to you: a chain and pendant, similar to Gró’s. Where the little boy’s bears his name, however, yours carries a symbol, evidently engraved into the metal by the blacksmith himself. Three interconnected spirals - an ancient symbol, one that you recognise from a dolmen tomb that stands in a field not far from your birthplace, one that people in the locality have long speculated about.

Father Carthy would say it is a symbol of the Holy Trinity: three divine beings in one, a sign of early Christians in Ireland. But the storytellers in the townland say it’s far older than any church, its meaning lost to the mists of time.

You trace the three spirals with your fingertip in the darkness. Three as one. For you, that is meaning enough.

He was alone for a long time, Din reminds himself - alone before you, alone even before Gró. He can be alone again.

That said, though, there’s being alone and not knowing anything different, and being alone now. He still automatically goes to the foot of the attic ladder every morning, ready to wake his little boy. He hides the bowl and cup Gró usually uses, because the sight of them makes his heart ache. He throws himself into his work, distracting himself with glowing-hot metal.

And then there is your absence. He had never lived with a woman, not like this; never shared his bed night after night, never loved like this. For the first few days, he wakes with a start when he reaches for your warm, soft body and realises you’re not there.

He tries not to think about the reality of the situation: the fact that, even if you were to return home tomorrow, you could never be together, at least not while Searlas lived. There are nights when, alone in his bed and desperate for the embrace of your arms, violence tempts Din. In his younger years, he might already have taken matters into his own hands.

As the days and weeks tick by with no sign of your so-called husband, and no word from Father Carthy, the blacksmith reminds himself to be patient - and not to fall into complacency. He had never really lost that sense of looking over his shoulder: from childhood, from the rebellion, and now he felt glad of it. No one from the community mentions you to him, though he knows they must have heard by now that you had been hiding from Searlas at the forge. He does his repairs as usual, driving into the village with his pony and trap to return items and collect others, pulling his kerchief over his face as he makes his way through the main street lest he spy a troop of redcoats.

One of the regular customers asks about Gró when he’s returning her extra-large soup pan, newly mended. Din hesitates, but keeps his expression steady.

“He’s spending time with some…cousins,” he explains. “On a farm. It’ll be good for him, he’ll learn from the experience.”

The woman doesn’t ask further, pays up, and retreats back into her little house as Din turns his horse and cart for home. As he gathers speed, he hears a voice calling his name. Father Carthy, clad in his long black cassock and wearing a broad-brimmed hat, is waving to him from the end of the laneway that leads to the chapel.

“Could you spare me a few moments, Din? Follow me up to the parish house.”

The priest’s house is a decently-sized cottage, larger but not too dissimilar to the majority of the dwellings in the village. Father Carthy might be responsible for the majority of the believers in the community, but his is not the “established” church, the official church of the state and gentry, and as such his home is a far cry from the grand, double-fronted manse occupied by the vicar who tends to the local worthies. Even the location of the chapel, tucked off a narrow laneway behind the main street, is a testament to the lower status of this particular branch of religion.

Din enters, taking off his hat and kerchief, and follows the cleric’s gesture to take a seat near the hearth. Father Carthy does the same, pulling his chair closer to Din.

“I have news. I haven’t been able to find a way to dissuade Searlas from seeking her out, but a little bird tells me that they’re going to change the troops again in a week or so. The current crop has been…rowdy.” The priest purses his lips, mulling over the stories he has heard of public drunkenness, fighting, and even soldiers nonchalantly carousing with women in the pubs and on the street. He decides not to give Din too many of the gory details.

“So they’re going to be sent elsewhere, split up. Clonmel, I heard, for some, and Castlebar for others. Maybe a few to Cork. There’s ructions, as you can imagine - a rare thing to break up a regiment - but…”

Din meets the priest’s meaningful gaze. “But…he would be gone.”

Father Carthy nods. “It’s not a solution, not forever, but it at least would let her come home to her own place again, and Gró home to you. You were right to send the boy with her, too - who knows what might have happened had he come knocking?”

Din closes his eyes and furrows his brow at the priest’s turn of phrase: “her own place”. It was a reminder of the truth, that you were not - and could not be - his.

Father Carthy gets to his feet, a signal to Din that it was time to go. “In the meantime, I’m going to look more closely into the canon law around annulment. I’m not hopeful, but maybe she might be able to build a case for it. He did abandon her, after all. Anyway -” he opens the door, and Din exits “- it would free her, at least, from the threat of him.”

The blacksmith thanks Father Carthy as he saddles up to head back to the forge, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks. On the road home, Din smiles to himself as he thinks about seeing Gró again, holding his little boy in his arms, watching you give him an extra spoonful of jam at breakfast, tucking him in to sleep at night. He thinks about your eyes, your smile; the feeling and taste of your mouth; the scent of your skin.

No matter what, he promises himself, no matter the rules or the law or whatever a piece of paper might say: he’ll kiss you again, hold you, take you to bed, and show you how much he missed you.

A couple of days later, as dusk settles, Din lights the lamp and finishes clearing away his lone dinner bowl and mug. Anticipation courses through him as he thinks about seeing two - no, three - places set for the evening meal again. Soon. Soon, they’ll be home.

He yawns and stretches, a hand reaching up to scratch his wavy, dark locks. It had been a hard day in the forge: a run of horses that needed to be shod, urgent repairs, and the difficulty of managing the work itself as well as the bellows and the fire, all by himself. An early night, he decides, might be in order.

He’s in his shirt and breeches when he hears the sound. A horse, its footfall cautious and uncertain, as though it had not been down the laneway before. A rider, barking commands and swearing at the animal. Din pulls his kerchief from his pocket and fastens it around his face before climbing swiftly up the attic ladder. His hand reaches into the thatch, on the other side of the house from Gró’s little bed, and retrieves a pike, smaller in design than the ones he’d hammered by the dozen in 1798 but no less lethal in the right hands. He grips the pike in his right hand, hidden from view while he opens the door with his left.

The rider struggles off his horse, evidently drunk. His scarlet tunic is unmistakable. The light from the cottage illuminates his features: pale, washed-out complexion; unhappy mouth set in a miserable line; hard blue eyes that offered nothing but coldness.

“Where the fuck is she, then, the stupid fucking bitch?”

Din’s fist tightens around the pike, but he holds his ground, still peering around the door. “Who is it? Who are you?”

Searlas swaggers drunkenly towards the house. “I know you’re a tinker, but you don’t have to play thick with me. You know who I am.” He beats his chest, peacocking as he nears Din’s threshold. “I’m a soldier of the fucking crown, so I am. And I’m here for what’s mine.”

He pokes Din’s broad chest, seeming a little startled at how solid the blacksmith actually is. Searlas’s watery eyes meet Din’s stern gaze.

“So… where the fuck is she?”

“Whoever you’re after,” Din says, maintaining the same tone he’s used throughout the encounter so far, “they’re not here. I live alone.”

Searlas pushes Din in frustration, and Din recoils a little at the stench of cheap poitín from the other, smaller man. “I know she’s fucking here. The whole fucking place knows.” He steps back and starts to roar upwards, as if addressing you in an attic hiding place.

“Did you not think I’d find you? You’re that fucking stupid, you would think that. I’m here now, time to go home. You’re mine, remember?” He shakes his fist, swaying a little.

“She’s not here. And even if she was, why do you care so much now? You left her on her own for years, apart from all the other things you did to her.”

Searlas stares at Din, a look of disgust on his face. “So you do know her? She’s full of shit, so she is. Full of lies. Not to be trusted.”

He wheels around again, almost losing his balance completely this time. “You were seen, you lying cunt!”

Din’s fingers clench and release over and over around the pike. He swallows the urge to run this miserable fucker through.

The soldier looks at him through glassy, drunken eyes. “She’s mine, see. And I think I want to take what’s mine. Time she was taught a lesson.” He roars the last word, as if hoping you’ll hear him and emerge.

The blacksmith edges out slightly and stands firmer, broader, in his front door. Searlas stares at him accusingly.

“D’you fuck her?”

Din holds his body and face completely still, focusing on the grip of the pike and his breathing.

“I said, did you fuck her? Did you fuck my wife?”

Din takes a deep breath. “Do you have the right to call her your wife, after what you did?”

Searlas’s jaw drops in astonishment. Din knew that he was just a bog-standard Irish Catholic soldier signed up for cannon fodder like all the others, but it was clear that the other man believed his uniform made him one of the “betters”, no matter what.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said, do you have the right to call her your wife?”

Searlas almost growls with drunken fury. “I have the right to call her whatever I fucking like.” Din notices his fist tightening by his side and steels himself as the other man approaches, menacingly.

“I’ll call her what I fucking like,” Searlas repeats, “including calling her what she is. A slut. A liar. A frigid, barren, useless excuse for a woman. And now? She’s filthy, tinker’s whore. That’s all she is. A stupid, ugly, disgusting tinker’s whore.”

The speed with which Din moves takes the soldier by surprise, as does the bright flash of the pike’s blade as it reflects the moonlight. The blacksmith uses the long handle first, roaring as he beats Searlas away with some well-placed blows. He moves with agility and confidence as the soldier fumbles in his sleeves for a weapon, and produces a narrow switchblade dagger.

“I’ll fucking show you, tinker,” he roars, the poitín giving him an exaggerated confidence. “I’ll skin you alive, fucking another man’s wife.”

He lunges at Din, but a swift, measured flick of the pike’s bladed end knocks the dagger to the ground and tears a hole in the scarlet tunic. Now Din presses his advantage, driving Searlas back to his horse.

“Get out of here and leave her alone. Forever. Don’t you ever come near her again.”

A more sober man would have cut and run, and would do so wisely. But Searlas’s selfishness combined with his drunkenness made for a terrible cocktail of aggression and abuse.

“And what will you do, tinker? They should have hanged every last one of you rebel scum in ‘98. Pity that scalp wasn’t ripped from your skull with a pitchcap.” He pats his thighs, as if seeking another blade. “You couldn’t defend yourselves then, why do you think you could stand up to the king’s army now?” He cocks his head and looks at Din, eyes menacing.

“Or are you just that desperate to defend a thick, useless slut like my wife?”

The grunting, the roars, and the sickening sound of a strong, sturdy fist meeting flesh and bone resonate in the stillness of the twilight. And then another sound, louder still: the unmistakable thud of a man’s body hitting the cold ground.

#tempered in the fire fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin au #blacksmith!din djarin #blacksmith!din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #historical AU #the mandalorian AU #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedrostories #the mandalorian #din djarin #tempered fic

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yakultstanreblog · 3 days

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exam update !! it was an 80 question exam in 2 hours, I didn’t even study (silly), didn’t attend a single seminar or lecture for the past 10 weeks, did it on literally 0 hours of sleep (I feel fried and am yet to sleep) and still somehow managed 92%.. but I already saw the questions I got wrong and they were idiotic very subtle mistakes but to be expected when I was feeling absolutely fried.. anyways I was only aiming for like 60% bc that’s all I needed to make up my high distinction for this particular unit cos I’d already done well on the other assignments but I guess now it’s even better :,) though in about an hour watch me spiral over how I could have gotten so much better LOLL I hate myself but nah I’m done w that unit now thank fk(actually no I was kinda enjoying it from the content I did engage in).. just finishing off (starting oop) a few more assignments the remainder of the week and then I can chillll for a month it will be so lovely but also I need to make sure I don’t spiral in that time so I can keep being an academic weapon next sem ughfjfhhhj proper winter starts end of this week too RIP

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percyjacksonblog · 2 days

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Wow my other post got really popular so here are some more beliefs I have about adult Percy and Annabeth.

Percy asks Athena, Frederick, and Annabeth’s stepmother for their blessing to marry Annabeth. He would have married her anyway.

I feel like Annabeth really loves coffee. Hot, iced, cold brewed, she will pretty much drink coffee in any form.

Apollo shows up at their home from time to time because he considers himself Percy’s friend. Apollo loves it and offers to give music and archery lessons to their kid(s). The first time Apollo showed up he performed a check up on their first kid.

Once a month Annabeth and Percy go to or host a dinner with their demigod friends to get life updates. They all take turns hosting.

When they find out Annabeth is pregnant they keep it secret. When Annabeth is 3 months pregnant they tell Sally who nods, smiles and says “I know.” Both are dumbfounded and ask how. Sally responds that Annabeth had not been drinking coffee on their weekly “mother-daughter” Saturday brunches. Both sit there with their jaws open while Sally just laughs. She excuses herself for a moment and comes back with a box of baby stuff for them. Percy always forgets just how perceptive his mother is.

After graduating high school Percy and Annabeth both go to college in New Rome. Annabeth gets a degree in Architecture and a certificate in interior design. Percy, to no one’s surprise, gets a degree in Marine Science, but to everyone’s surprise minors in business.

Percy and Annabeth are both terrible at making sure their bills are paid on time due to their ADHD. Eventually Annabeth takes over and just sets up a direct payment so there’s no more “Did you pay the electricity bill?” “No, I thought you did.”

Every summer Percy and Annabeth would go to Montauk for a week to just enjoy themselves before going to camp. It’s on one of those trips that Percy proposes.

Percy and Annabeth still get nightmares about Tartarus decades later. They don’t ever completely go away but the nightmares get further and further apart.

Percy makes blue pancakes every Saturday for his family.

Sunday is family movie night. They make a fort in their living room, pop popcorn and put on a movie.

Sally is always happy to watch her grandchildren whenever she is needed. She tells them watered down stories about young Percy and Annabeth. She leaves out information that she deems too violent or mature for little ears. Her favorite story to tell them is the cross country trip Percy and Annabeth took when they were 12.

Grover comes over frequently to tend to the little garden he planted for his best friends to make sure they have enough vegetables.

Percy and Annabeth always go to each school’s open house or meet the teacher to make sure no one is a monster in disguise. One time Percy swore he saw Mrs. Dodds.

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mothwingwritings · 2 days

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Animal Magnetism

F!Reader X Yujiro Hanma (Omegaverse AU)

Well folks, here is my first ever attempt at a true Omegaverse fic. I wanted to start out with something little to get a feel for it, but since I don’t know how to chill it ended up being a bit longer than anticipated. ^^; I’m still getting the hang of it all, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! Thank you so much for reading!!!

Also, I have a rather busy end of May-June coming up, so I’m not sure how much I will be able to write and update during that time. I apologize in advance. That being said, I wrote this pretty fast and edited it even faster so that I could get it out before I get swamped, so I apologize if it reads a bit rushed. (シ_ _)シ

THIS FIC IS NSFW, SO 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

WARNINGS: Noncon/dubcon, yandere vibes, ABO/Omegaverse AU (reader is the omega ofc), death, strangulation, brief mentions of stalking, reader is degraded and treated like an object by Yujiro Hanma. You know how it is. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯"

You considered yourself lucky to have found the love of your life.

That wasn’t always the case for Omegas. Since your childhood, you’d heard countless horror stories from your parents and friends, tragedies and cautionary tales of the horrors Omega’s faced when looking for a mate. Many of your kind faced dismal futures as breeding factories or were forgotten and neglected by their partners whenever they weren’t in heat. It was a lonely, painful, and unfulfilling existence, but a sad reality that many Omega’s endured nonetheless.

Because of this your parents sheltered you, doing their best to keep you from the cruel power imbalance of the outside world. Your father made sure he was the only alpha allowed near you on the property, the rest of your friends and acquaintances consisting of either other Omega’s or Beta’s. Not that you much minded, after all the negativity you heard surrounding Alpha’s you figured this was for the best. You weren’t missing out on anything, and as long as you took your suppressors accordingly, you were sure you could live out the rest of your life just fine without Alpha influence and still feel completely fulfilled.

That was to say, until a certain bodyguard was hired as the family escort, specifically YOUR escort. You had heard he was an Alpha and were quite shocked that your father would allow such a person so close to you, especially with all his previous warnings. But as time passed and your curiosity grew, you would eventually introduce yourself to the man of your own accord, excited and nervous to see what manner of individual he truly was. At the time, you would have never ended up guessing that one meeting would end up turning your entire world on its head, bringing more joy to your life than you could have ever imagined.

You were smitten the moment your hands joined in the initial shake, taken in by his easy smile and sparkling eyes. He had respectfully kept his distance from you at your father’s request, but you could tell he was elated to finally speak with you, a small blush gracing his cheeks as soon as you said ‘hello’. He was a kindly man, mild mannered and soft spoken, but strong where it mattered and protective to a fault. Were it not for the unmistakable scent that exuded from him, you wouldn’t guess he was an Alpha at all, or at least he certainly didn’t fit the description of most of the Alpha’s your father warned you about-all full of machismo and brutality, ready at a moment’s notice to tear you apart to satisfy their own base urges.

This man was the opposite of that, and when you fell for him, you fell hard.

Years past in a whirlwind, from the initial awkward first dates, to buying your own place together, to his heartfelt proposal to you. Through it all he always remained respectful, giving you all the space and time you needed to adjust to your life with him, never pushing his boundaries or showing any untoward aggression or advances. Because of this, even after spending years together, you were able to remain pure, saving yourself for the day the two of you would join as one, marking each other to truly solidify your union.

And so time marched on, moving so fast that on more than one occasion you wished you could stop the clock altogether, just to steal a few more moments with him.

But now, you would never enjoy his company ever again.

His corpse had been tossed aside, discarded several feet from where you lay. It was so bloodied and broken you could barely recognize it as human, let alone as someone you once loved. Your chest rose and fell with erratic breaths punctuated by fear, the desire welling inside of you momentarily quelled by this sudden nightmare.

Minutes ago he was atop you, peeling the clothing from your aching, hot body. Moving painfully slow, he took his time enjoying your first heat with him, no longer constrained by the suppressors you had taken your whole life. You were scared of the process, worried about losing control of yourself and becoming mindless, driven by only your base needs. Not to mention the pain it would entail, the endless torture of emptiness, and the desperation you would experience relying solely on him for release from your torment.

But he had been patient and understanding through the whole process, explaining how it would all go down and how he would help you through it, alleviating any rogue fears that still remained. He even went so far as to help you prepare your nest, purchasing you any and everything you may need to make it comforting and inviting for when the time finally arrived. Meticulously helping you arrange everything while gushing about how excited he was, how lucky he felt having you as his mate, the one he would be eternally bonded too. He seemed more into the prep work than even you did.

Now, the nest that was to be used to consummate your love was stained in crimson, his blood splashing across it in vibrant streaks the moment he was knocked off you, flung across the room like a rag doll. No matter how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the lifeless body that used to be your beloved. Everything that had made him shine had been stolen in the blink of an eye, leaving only a husk remaining.

Above him stood his murderer, Yujiro Hanma, looming with a bestial sort of feral energy as he stared at the carcass by his feet. Before this moment, you had never interacted with the man they called ‘The Ogre’, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know all about him. It was hard not to-the strongest man in the world was a celebrity in his own right, renowned the world over for his ferocity and ruthless nature. He had started and ended wars by simply existing, going wherever he pleased and doing whatever he wanted because there was no one who could stop him. He ruled countries from the shadows, amassed wealth and respect from the most influential men in the world. Truly, he was not a person to be reckoned with.

All that aside, you knew him best as the man your father despised the most. A once respected comrade from your father’s military days, you were aware that Yujiro had done something unspeakable to your father in the past, therefore disgracing him from your entire family. Your father had always been an amicable and fair man, someone that you couldn’t imagine having any enemies (even with his military background), let alone ones that used to be dear friends. And while the mystery of what Yujiro may have done to your father to receive this treatment gnawed incessantly at your brain, you kept your questions to yourself, not wanting to open any old wounds that may hurt him in the process.

Now you wished you had pressed the issue more, maybe then you would have a clue as to why this mythical family villain had abruptly entered the scene, irrevocably changing your life in the process.

The slaughter happened so quickly that Yujiro didn’t even break a sweat. Not that he would have anyway-the differences in ability were clear as day, you didn’t need any fighting prowess to realize that. Your mate never stood a chance.

The ogre’s fiery hair danced wildly around his head like a halo as he turned his attention your way, his figure both terrifying and awe inspiring as he took his time stalking towards your vulnerable form. There was no need for him to rush- the power of his presence alone was enough to root you in place.

Splayed out in your nest, you were completely exposed. Your nude chest heaving as a thin layer of sweat coated you, anxiety and confusion mingling with the raging heat your body was going through. Even after watching the execution of your mate before your very eyes, your body was still yearning, causing a horrible, all-encompassing burning that scalded you from the inside out. It made you desperate for release as your mate was in the process of marking you, taking his time exploring the body of the woman with whom he was destined to spend the rest of his life with before carrying out the duty.

And while his drawn out advance was driving you to the point of madness, amplifying the throbbing ache in your core with each teasing touch of his hands and sensual kiss of his lips, you knew the sluggish pace was for your benefit-to prepare you properly. It was your first time, the start of your forever with him. He wanted to make it special, for your pleasure to be immeasurable when he finally entered you, making you feel so good that when he bit down to mark you as his, the pain would be nothing in comparison, if felt at all. You had a life time of love ahead of you, but that was no excuse for him to give in to his desire and rush your first union.

But he was gone now, and his kindness had left you feverish and wanting-so desperately wanting- release. Craving your alpha, needing him so badly you could barely stand it, you writhed pathetically on the ground, whimpering in agony at the absence of fulfillment. Unable to control yourself, your hand traveled to your privates, tears flooding your eyes when stuffing your fingers deep inside of yourself only seemed to hurt you more. It was hollow and empty, not what you needed, not what you craved.

Were you in your normal mindset, revulsion would have washed over you at your actions-the love of your life had just been slain and here you were making a sorry attempt at masturbation while his body lay decomposing beside you. What kind of woman does that? How could you live with yourself after this? How could you tell yourself you truly love him, when now that he’s gone the only feeling your addled brain can conjure is disappointment over the fact that you won’t get the fucking you have become so desperate for?

How had you become so disgusting? You lightly shook your head, trying to dispel the thoughts of self-loathing. Perhaps the blame did not lie fully on your shoulders, but to another culprit, one who was stalking his way closer and closer to you with each passing moment, hunting you as a wolf does livestock.

In any other scenario, this heart-rending moment would have been enough to crack the shell of haze your heat had left you in, no matter how worked up you had become. But the man who was now standing above you, Yujiro Hanma, was dangerous in ways you hadn’t even begun to fathom. His smell of his musk was so overbearing you nearly choked on it, the lust it sent coursing through your body turning you into something unrecognizable. You honed in on Yujiros scent long before his arrival, at first mistaking it for your own mate’s scent that had been amplified by your combined heats. And while it disgusted you to admit it, this new, intoxicating scent excited you far more than your own lover’s ever had, turning your mind to mush the longer you inhaled its aroma.

Yujiro’s cruel eyes bore down upon you, a look of mild amusement displayed on his face as he took in your weakened state. The smirk he wore as he killed your lover began to grow, his lips spreading into a full on smile, baring his teeth in a look that could only be considered as malicious.

“Well what do we have here,” he leered, the mere sound of his husky voice enough to make you moan, “Feeling a bit neglected, are we?”

He bent down on his knee, kneeling beside you as his eyes flicked across your body. After a brief once over, his large hand reached out towards your head, thick fingers knotting themselves into a fist as they gripped your hair. Roughly he yanked you up, dangling you mere inches from his face as he continued to stare at you with his horrible, ravenous eyes.

You scrambled to get your bearings, perching yourself on your knees to help alleviate the pressure on your scalp. Positioned so closely to him, his pheromones became even more intense, slick starting to seep from inside you from the proximity alone. Bright red bloomed across your body, a mixture of extreme arousal and embarrassment, as you wriggled in his hold.

Yujiro scoffed, “Look at you, I haven’t even touched you and you’re already leaking,” He swiped his fingers briskly against your weeping pussy, making you cry out as he gathered the evidence of your intoxication on his hand. Holding the glistening fingers up to your face, his smile returned as he goaded you. “Bet your little boyfriend lacked the power to make that happen, didn’t he?”

Any anger that may have welled inside you over the slight against your beloved was instantly quelled, eaten by the tumultuous feeling of frustration the situation ensnared you in. All you could do was stare at Yujiro with pleading eyes, any words you attempted to speak dying out the moment you tried to voice them, becoming little more than whiny, petulant mewlings. Rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to create friction, you prayed he would show an ounce of mercy and grant you release soon, fretting over how much longer your body could handle waiting.

Yujiro sighed, chuckling softly under his breath, “Your father is a damned fool, you know that? I told that stubborn bastard that his cute little Omega daughter was meant to be mine, knew it the moment I saw you. I warned him that he could try and pair you off with some other lesser Alpha, but it would be a waste of time. You were fated to be mine- made to take my cock. Trying to make you anything other than my bitch was both asinine and disgraceful.”

He shot you another wicked smile, “Idiots like him may not realize what a fucking honor it is to be my cumdump, but surely you do, right sweetheart?”

You squeaked as he tugged you closer, his breath fanning your face while he stared down his nose at you, “Or maybe you don’t, given the situation I found you in. Looks like my ravenous little whore just couldn’t contain herself, could she?”

His lips curled into a snarl, his booming voice reverberating through your bones as he continued to address your misdemeanor. “Nesting with some weak piece of shit like that, have you no pride in yourself? I’m embarrassed you even gave him the time of day, let alone bared yourself to him. Who do you think you are, trying to fuck basic trash when you belong to me?”

Without giving you a chance to respond, he released his grip on your hair, shoving you roughly to the ground in the process. Hearing him move behind you, you attempted to push your feeble body into a sitting position, trying to reacclimate yourself. However before you could achieve this simple goal, his hand latched to the back of your head, shoving it down until it was smothered in the soft blankets beneath you. His free hand yanked your legs out from under you, pulling your ass up in the process. Though you couldn’t see him, the power radiating from him was immense, his aura so domineering you felt as if it alone was steadily crushing you. Were you in any sane frame of mind you would fear for your life, struggle and fight against the oppressive hardness that slotted itself against your dripping entrance.

But the slave you had become welcomed the intrusion, and as he tightened his hold on you, growling in your ear like the wild animal he had proved himself to be, you couldn’t stop your body from shuddering in anticipation of what was to come.

“It’s time for some corrective action.”

He entered you violently, his thick cock impossibly hot as he sheathed himself inside of you. The initial pain tore a scream from your throat, your vision dotting as you felt blood trail steadily down your shaking legs. He gave you no time to adjust, continuing his brutal assault as he pounded into you, uncaring of the damage he was inflicting upon you. The smack of his skin against your was punctuated by your cries, at first full of pain, but slowly morphing into expulsions of pleasure.

When the abruptness of his entrance fully subsided, you began to focus on the feel of him inside of you. Each slam of his hips ignited you, creating a feverish frenzy within that blocked out all other sensations and judgment. He filled you so completely, easily reaching all the spots that your fingers tried so desperately to reach just moments ago, satisfying all the areas that had been so urgently in need of attention with each stroke of his cock. You wanted more, needed more, moving in time with him as you chased after your pleasure. Wanton moans spilled from your lips, muffled by the bedding that was being shoved into your mouth with each thrust.

Even in the uncomfortable position he had locked you in, unable to breathe properly or escape from his grasp, all you could find yourself caring about was the alpha behind you and how he was making you feel- a strange sense of pride bubbled inside you the longer he went at you. The most powerful man in the world was doing little more than using you, and yet it was the fact that he chose you to begin with that filled you with flattery. A nobody like you being sought out by an alpha like him... Isn’t that what all Omegas dreamed of? To be desired by a dominant Alpha, having the honor of bringing them pleasure and receiving pleasure in turn, wasn’t that your only purpose, your reason for being?

You never dreamed you would feel that way before, but now you were finally starting to understand. The delirium of your desire had launched you into a state of inescapable euphoria, rebirthing you as nothing more than a shell of a woman who had finally realized her purpose, completely giving herself over to her unquenchable cravings while her Alpha’s assault molded her destiny.

Yujiro was a monster. Any man who did what they had done to the love of your life, any man whom your father had hated to the point of excommunication, any man who would violate you in such a way without so much as batting an eye, was an abomination-the remaining rational part of your mind understood this.

Yet as this demon, deserving of nothing but your scorn and hatred, spilled himself inside of you all you could feel was thankful. Thankful that the ungodly heat was starting to subside, happy that the pain the experience had brought you was alleviated, and blissed out over the feel of him nestled deeply inside of you, convulsing as the twitch of his cumming cock rained pleasure down upon you.

Finally, you felt complete.

After pumping you full of his hefty load, he hoisted you up in his arms, repositioning you so that you were facing him, straddling his lap. Gasping the moment you gained access to fresh air, a distressed groan croaked from your throat as his incisors latched to your neck, sinking deep into your scent gland. Your body shuddered at the sensation, fresh waves of pain and rapture coursing through you as he marked you decisively as his.

The cock that was still stuffed inside of you remained rigid, showing no signs of softening as your walls fluttered around it, the next round of your heat coming far sooner than you had anticipated. His hand wrapped securely around your throat, replacing where his lips had just been. He clamped down hard, pain pulsating from the open wound your scent gland had become, struggling once more to breath. His other hand grasped your hip, both limbs working in unison to bounce you on his dick-using you as if you were a human fleshlight.

“Don’t forget your place again,” he grunted, pulling you down on his cock so harshly, you saw stars, “You’re mine now.”

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