#is a tag I've had for a very long time now. and there's plenty of evidence for Buck's malfunctions around Eddie in there 😂

[villainofmyownstory]

Day Zero

chapter 3: The one when you met

masterlist

taglist

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x plus size fem!reader

summary: Meeting another person after 2 years of loneliness was not supposed to be like this.

tags: AFAB reader, plus size reader, dog german shepherd, alcohol, weapon

author's note: I don't know... I'm not satisfied with this chapter. I think I reread it and edited it too many times. From this chapter, what happens after days 730... will be in the present tense because, for example, in the next chapter we will return to day 64, of course it is described in the past tense, so it just seems logical to me. I'm not changing chapters 1 and 2, I hope you don't mind. I think I've been spending too much time on this story and I'm starting to think too much.

Thank you all for your positive feedback. You don't even know how much this means to me <3

The next chapter will be posted on May 11 or 12.

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Chapter 3: The one when you met

Day 730

Ghost

There are plenty of things in this damn city that he will never run out of. When Ghost was left almost alone, with Riley by his side of course. Already in the first days, the man noticed that there were things here that would stay with him for the rest of his life. Even when he's gone, many of these items will remain in his warehouses for years to come.

Ironically, what he needed the least, alcohol and clothes.

He was never a demanding person. He didn't expect much from life. He was a rather simple man. A roof over his head, a supply of food, a place to train and peace of mind. So when he realized that this city was only his, he was very happy and satisfied. Not that he hated people. It was just better when they were as far away from him as possible. Somewhere in the background, preferably far from his sight and hearing. For many years he felt irritated by the closeness of another person. Of course, there were a few people who managed to get under the lieutenant's shell and understand his moods, behavior and motivations. However, there were few of them. That's right, they were.

In the army, he worked with several people. For many years he had no one outside of work. No family. No other relatives or friends. So when the captain sent him to a well-deserved rest after another long and hard mission. Ghost couldn't find his place for the first few days. He was simply irritated by mundane, everyday things. Going to the bank, store, clinic or even the gym. Too many people. Everywhere. Constant conversations, gesticulations. Noise.

Too much.

So he was grateful for the development of technology. When he could finally sit in front of his computer in the comfort of his own home and get things done in the office or via an app on his phone. The less contact with other people, the better. That's what he thought.

Now that Riley is missing, the soldier wonders about the meaning of his life. If the world had in some way done him a favor by removing other people from his surroundings, why did he have to take away the one being that made him feel alive. That his life has any meaning.

He wasn't a monster. Of course not. It wasn't like he was hoping for some kind of annihilation of humanity, that he would be the sole survivor on earth and be able to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He just wanted some peace, on his terms.

However, he felt no sadness or regret as he patrolled the empty streets or checked another empty building.

He had lost too many loved ones in the past to grieve over nameless strangers now.

He shouldn't drink. He knows it perfectly well. Two years. 730 days of sobriety. He had promised himself that big day, he had promised Riley, that he would never feel that burning liquid in his throat again. So that he won't become such a madman when alcohol starts circulating in his system again.

So that he does not become his own father. He couldn't even think of this person as someone close to him. Disgusting creature. Reflective sadists. Sperm donor and that's it. Which should never have existed. He buried that monster a long time ago. Just like Ghost buried his own self.

Apart from losing Riley, this was the man's greatest fear in his life. That by drinking alcohol and getting closer to people, he would show them who he really was. That he was just like his twisted psychopathic father.

And he didn't want to be like that, he couldn't. He preferred to hide behind the façade of a domineering, boorish lieutenant in a mask. Pushing others away from himself. The further, the better. He didn't want to hurt anyone.

He preferred to be alone.

He wore a mask almost all the time. He hid his face from the world. He never showed his true self. He hid his identity and the man he was behind a piece of cloth.

Now that it was just him and the dog, he didn't have to cover his face.... And although sometimes in the morning he was looking for a black mask on the nightstand out of habit, he got used to the pleasant feeling of air on the skin of his face. If necessary, he placed a few masks here and there. Just in case someone, somehow showed up in his town.

Now, standing in the pantry with his heart pounding, he unhesitatingly reaches to the back of one of the shelves where he hid the alcohol.

He purposely hid the bottles in the back of the cabinets behind other things so that every time he looks here, he won't notice the colorful bottles at all.

So that nothing would tempt him.

Pulling out a bottle of bourbon, he moved the cans of food and didn't hesitate. He feels that if he does not immediately drown his sadness in a glass of amber drink, he will not be able to bear the pain of another loss. Looking at the label, he smiles to himself. Pappy Van Winkle's Family Reserve 15 years 107 proof*. Searching the homes of these rich people had some benefits. Rich motherfuckers who didn't know what to do with their money bought everything expensive. The more zeros in a line, the better.

When he returns to the office, he doesn't even look at the surveillance system.

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Day 731

Ghost

He lost himself. He drank himself unconscious. It was long after sunrise, it is even after noon.

“Dammit”

Ghost mutters, slowly getting up from the chair he fell asleep in a few hours earlier.

He should have been looking for the dog since dawn. He shouldn't give up. He shouldn't lose hope. However, when he lost sight of the dog, something inside him broke. It reminded him too much of the previous two times he'd lost loved ones. He lost control again. Something thwarted his plan. He lost his stability. Monotony, life according to plan.

Barely walking, tripping over his feet and knocking several things off the dresser, he reaches the bathroom. He doesn't care about anything anymore. Everything is the same to him.

When rinsing her face with water, he does not look at her reflection in the mirror. He can't look into his own eyes. Again, he directs his steps to the pantry. To get another bottle. Ghost has already lost count, another bottle to forget.

It didn't matter. It's just that nothing makes sense anymore.

Wobbling on his feet, he returns to the small room, sits in the chair at the desk and takes a few sips straight from the bottle. Regret - he finally feels it. Another sip. Drown, drown. And he only hopes that alcohol will soothe this feeling, that it will help him fill the void he feels after Riley's disappearance.

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Day 732

Ghost

Another day of drinking. Once he touched his lips and felt a sharp substance with his tongue. And he fell into a trance again. It was hard to break out of it. Constant drinking. Vicious circle. Another bottle and another. Let it burn, sting, hurt. Just to feel something. Physically.

Finally, as if something was calling to him, he struggled to get up from the chair and dragged the body to the kitchen, he decided he had to do something. Anything other than just sitting here. With a lot of thinking, wondering, blaming. He's not a victim, he's not. He has to look for the dog. Keep going. He can't show weakness. Even before himself. He felt a little embarrassed. That he gave up again. Too quick and easy. He looks at the mess he probably left behind the night he drunkenly tried to make himself something to eat.

“I'll deal with it later,” he muttered, heading towards the dressing room. Trying to keep his balance, he stops in the hall, next to the small surveillance room, and freezes.

One screen was active. Detected movement.

"Fuck..." Ghost is angry with himself, pissed off. That he hadn't thought about sitting in front of the screens and looking at the city earlier. But now wasn't the time to blame himself or dwell on the situation. He must finally take action.

Looking at the screen, the soldier can't believe his eyes. He not only sees his beloved dog on the screen. Who slowly walks through one of the streets. In the live footage, he sees a figure walking.

Person.

Alive.

Without thinking, he quickly runs to his room to change and grab his gun. It's definitely an ambush. No one in their right mind would wander in the middle of the street in a strange city in the middle of the day. With a dog by my side.

Bait.

Surely the rest of the group was waiting somewhere outside the city or on the roofs of buildings. He has to do something, he has to get Riley back. Adrenaline stimulates his body, his thoughts flow in one direction. Bring Riley home. Punish those who had the nerve to steal his dog.

He had never driven under the influence of alcohol, but he had no choice. It would take him too long to walk downtown, and he couldn't let the intruders get any closer to his house. Or worse, they'll leave town with his dog.

Besides, the only danger in driving a car in such an environment was himself. And he doesn't care about his own health and life.

Before leaving, he checks the camera again, the figure slowly approaches the City Hall building.

"Easy target" Ghost smiled, plenty of space to capture. He loads his gun and runs out the door as fast as he can, his fingers firmly wrapped around the sniper rifle.

While driving through the city streets, he tries to focus on driving straight, but at the same time he is constantly looking around for a potential threat. It definitely has to be a larger group, Ghost is expecting several people. To his surprise, however, he doesn't notice anything unusual.

Finally he stops and he leaves the car a few blocks from the town hall and starts walking towards it. He hopes he's not late. That the intruder and his dog hadn't moved too far.

There were rather low buildings near the town hall, so a block earlier he turned left and headed to one of the skyscrapers, from where he would have a better view. A better place to attack. However, there is no time to enter it. He freezes in place because he hears Riley barking and then a human voice. A woman's voice.

“Shit…”

He muttered through his teeth. Of course he might have expected a group of travellers to send a woman or a child out to scout. To stir up sympathy only to have someone lose their guard.

He has to play it differently. He looks around the street and decides to enter the restaurant on the corner, remembering that there is a passage inside and he will have a perfect view of the street where the town hall was located. As he walks through the abandoned building, he mentally curses himself for drinking so much. Adrenaline helps him focus and stay upright, but he fears what will happen if he ends up having to aim his gun. When he reaches the storefront overlooking City Hall, he freezes.

Woman pets Riley tenderly and happily says something to him.

Dog seemed to sense his presence because it sits on its hind legs and looks towards the building where the soldier is.

Without thinking, Ghost raises his gun and takes aim.

He must get the dog back and show the strange travelers that they cannot take what is his. That he is in charge.

Fractions of seconds. Ghost pulls the trigger, shoots. The woman falls forward. Without even realizing the threat standing in the dark building in front of her. She falls, but not from the shot. There is not a single drop of blood. No screaming in pain.

It was Riley who pulled her over. He saved her. He protected her from the bullet.

Assessing the situation, Ghost quickly leaves the building and continues to aim his gun at the lying woman.

He didn't expect this development, of all the possible scenarios that went through his head. He did not foresee, despite years spent on the battlefield, reading thousands of training materials.

That the dog would be against him and protect some random stranger.

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Day 732

You

Everything happens so fast that it is impossible to rationally connect the facts: the shot, Riley pulling the leash and the fall. So much, in a split second.

But the only thing that is echoing in your head right now is whether or not Riley is okay.

So you don't notice the massive, tall and masked figure slowly walking towards you... The first thing you should do is check the condition of the dog. Riley. That's all that matters to you. You sit on your lap and look closely at the dog.

“Riley, oh boy, are you okay? Show yourself".

You check the dog, and after making sure that the dog is alright, you find no trace of blood or the slightest injury. Relieved, you slowly get back to your feet. Straightening up, you finally see with horror the figure standing in front of you who wanted to shoot you a moment ago. And now it's starting to dawn on you what just happened. What is really happening and that you are in great danger. You open your mouth and then close it, repeating this action several times, you want to say something. But what can you say at a time like this? No words come out of your throat.

“Stand where you're standing and let go of the leash”

The masked man growls lowly, slowly turning his gaze from you to the dog, slowly stepping closer to the two of you.

“Raise your hands above your head and don't move.”

You shiver with fear, chills running through your body. The sound of a man's low voice, any human voice other than yours after many months. Weird feeling. Irrational.

After a while, you finally recover and slowly raise your hands.

“Let go of damn leash!”

You look at the man with fear. It occurs to you that this must be the same man who left the letter on the tower. Anyone else could be masked and not call themselves Ghost. He was tall, well built. He was dressed in tactical gear, a bulletproof vest and... a mask. This was no ordinary balaclava. A skull was attached to the material. The front part, with a fragment of the upper jaw, eye sockets, and forehead. It must have been a human skull. You involuntarily shiver harder in fear, trying to take a deeper breath. This was not what meeting another human being was supposed to be like. This wasn't what you expected.

Ghost will raise his gun higher, still pointing it at you.

“Riley. Heel.., come here"

He calls to the dog, breaking the terrible, prolonged silence. The confused dog stands up and takes one step towards the soldier. But he doesn't go any further.

“This… this dog is mine”

The words finally fall out of you, you muster up your courage and whisper, keeping your eyes on the man

“Don't take him away from me. Not again.”

“Your dog? I think you've got something wrong"

Ghost growled, clearly annoyed. His arm muscles visibly tense, this entire exchange makes no sense to him. Waste of time.

"Y-yes, he's mine..."

You start to say, trying to control the emotions you're feeling. You slowly lower your hands.

“I can prove it. Just let me”

Regardless of the fact that the gun is constantly pointed at you, you have to prove it to him and keep the dog with you. No matter what, at any cost. You want to reach into your backpack and take out that old worn-out photo that you still carry with you to this day. One of the few souvenirs you have kept from your past life.

“Hands up, damn it, I'm not playing any games. Give the dog back and leave town."

Ghost shouts, you can see that he is becoming more and more irritated by your behavior.

“You can take everything you find and leave my city. Riley stays where he belongs - with me."

You shake your head negatively, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying not to cry

“No, the dog is mine.”

“Oh, damn it, I don't have all day for unnecessary discussions. Tell your people not to come back here again. Or at least have the courage to show up in person and not send a woman. Pathetic".

As he says this, he finally lowers the gun and pats his thigh, trying to get the dog's attention.

“Riley! Heel!”

Thinking little, or probably not thinking at all, you reached into your backpack and opened the zipper, looking for a photo.

“Dammit, kid, you don't understand what I'm telling you. Leave the dog and fuck off."

You don't care anymore, if you were to leave this city without your dog, you'd rather die here. Now, at this moment.

You take out the photo, which you have carefully secured to prevent any further damage. You raise your hand, holding the photo, and try to stop it from shaking. Despite your emotions, you calmly say to masked man

"Look, this is my dog. Mine. Look, Riley's missing a piece of his ear. You see? Dog in this photo doesn't have it either…”

The man hesitates for a moment, but decides to approach and take a closer look at the photo in your hand.

“That doesn't prove anything,” Ghost starts to say, but you interrupt him

"What do you mean? How many dogs of this breed have such a wound? How many have a black collar with an engraving on the back, with the exact name and phone number?"

As you say this, you state what is written on his collar

“You could take this off him and read it.”

"How do I know there's something written inside?"

There was silence. Another long, tiring one. You looked at each other without saying a word.

The man was taller than you and towered over you, his broad frame creating a shadow above you, his dark eyes narrowing as he looked at you. As if he was trying to read what was going on in your head.

You feel a little dizzy. The whole situation was so strange, so surreal. This wasn't what my first conversation with another human being in two years was supposed to look like. This wasn't how the first meeting was supposed to go. At least it wasn't what you imagined.

There's something wrong with the man across from you. Weird, dark, terrifying. His attitude irritates you and something inside you finally breaks. You explode.

“Ghost, listen…”

You started, raising your voice slightly

“I don't know what your intentions are, why you're so defensive about this town and this dog. But I came here alone! ALONE! I haven't seen a living person in two fucking years. I don't understand what kind of travelers you're talking about and why you don't want to admit that this dog is mine. But... but I don't want to leave, not after finding Riley."

When you say this, you look at the dog that sat between you and the soldier. Riley lay down, as if he was also tired of all the strange interaction between two people he knew, through which he was confused.

Ghost remains silent, never taking his eyes off you, as if wondering what to do. Pros and cons.

Finally, the sound of the watch interrupts his persistent gaze, and the man sighs loudly, as if resigned, and says

“Let's just say… I believe you. Temporarily”

The man secures the gun and hangs it on his shoulder. Seeing this, an involuntary smile appears on your face.

“Come on, kid, it's late. We have to go” 

Ghost points to the sun, which is slowly starting to hide behind the buildings

"We'll finish this conversation somewhere else. Come on, both of you."

He waves his hand and points in the direction to go.

“Go ahead, I'll watch your back.”

The walk to the car doesn't take long, and you're glad that you won't have to walk another distance on your still scarred and aching legs.

"No way!"

You scream in shock when you see a large, dark pickup truck parked in the cul-de-sac.

“You have a working car! I couldn't find..."

Standing at the passenger door, a man interrupts you, stands next to the trunk and you open the hatch

“Riley, get in. You sit in the back too”

He points to the trunk of the pickup truck

"What? Are you kidding me?"

This man was behaving absurdly. You guess that years of loneliness made him unable to behave socially. He forgot what it was like to interact with another living person.

“Just. Get. In. And don't whine unless you want to walk to the tower. You know the way.”

The man looked at you without blinking.

“To the tower? Why are we going to the tower?”

You say in disbelief, letting go of another exchange of words, slowly climbing into the trunk and sitting down next to the dog. Ghost closes the trunk, making sure the dog is safe, and gets behind the wheel.

“We need to visit your companions. Since they're not in town, they're probably waiting for you there. You know my name, so you must have read the letter.”

As the car starts moving, you start to wonder if you did the right thing by getting into the trunk. Letting a stranger take you away, God knows where. There was something wrong with this man. He thought Riley was his and that you weren't coming to town on your own. Maybe he too, like you, has been living alone all these months. And he clearly couldn't cope with it. You hug the dog, just hoping that when you reach the tower, the man will finally believe you and let you stay.

Nevertheless, you did not want to be left on your own again. Only now did you feel how much you missed another living person. How much you needed to feel someone's presence. To know that you were not meant to live in isolation. You felt that the burden that had stuck with you through those many sleepless, weeping nights had finally fallen from your shoulders.

Maybe it was destiny.  This was your fate.

So, you accept it already.

Even if from now on, you will have to live with this strange, mysterious man in a mask.

taglist:

@leviathanleva @chocolate-noodles @vmaxis @poohkie90 @ghostlythots @nobodys-coffee @famouscattale @youdontneedtoknow1226 @pimpinsins @justguessfan @novasilvae @pausbirudanlumbalumba @ella2497

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #cod #ghost #call of duty fanfic #cod au #ghost x reader

[diazsdimples]

Fuck It Friday/ Inspiration Saturday

Tagged by @wikiangela @actuallyitsellie @jesuisici33 @hippolotamus @wildlife4life @exhuastedpigeon @neverevan @spotsandsocks @theotherbuckley @cal-daisies-and-briars for Friday, tagging you all back for Saturday (sorry if I missed anyone, I am SO behind on my notifications)

Okay it's Saturday here but I'm sure it's still Friday somewhere right?? HAPPY BI BUCK TO EVERYONE!!!! This fic is inspired entirely by That Kiss, and it sparked me to make a 7x06 spec fic. So, please enjoy what will hopefully be the only snippet (godwilling) of the Why Are Buck and Eddie So Dirty At Madney's Wedding fic. This snippet is from the very beginning and yes, it is Bucktommy (for now), no I will not apologise for it. Enjoy!

“You-you’ve never called me that before” he breathes. Tommy brushes the pad of his thumb over Buck’s bottom lip, releasing it from his teeth. He brushes his other hand through Buck’s hair, fingers threading through his yet-to-be-tamed curls. “What, baby?” he asks, grinning as Buck’s eyes flutter shut at the utterance of the name once again. “Is that okay?” ‘Y-yeah,” Buck nods, leaning forwards to brush their noses together again, angling his face up in an implicit request for a kiss. “I kinda liked it.” Tommy hums out a laugh and Buck feels it reverberate deep in his chest. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says softly, and he hooks his finger under Buck’s chin, just like he did the first time they kissed, and captures Buck’s lips with his. Every time he’s kissed by Tommy, Buck is introduced to a whole other side of the word “soft”. He’s had the feminine “soft” plenty of times, with the way Abby would curl into him after a long shift, or how Ali would brush his hair from his forehead with her nimble fingers, and even on the rare occasion with Taylor, when she was sleepy and would crawl into his arms and fall asleep in seconds.  With Tommy, it’s different. Tommy holds Buck like he’s a fragile egg, smoothing his thumbs over the cracks and balancing him in his palm. He’s soft in the way he holds Buck to his chest, or the way he kisses Buck’s hair while they’re watching a movie, or how he knows when Buck’s had a bad shift and needs to get out of his head for a bit, and will come over with pizza and beer and promises of kisses.  He’s soft in the way he presses his palm to the small of Buck’s back when they’re out together, but not as if he’s pushing Buck in a certain direction. More like he’s grounding Buck, showing him that he’s allowed to be out, happy, with a man.

tagging @watchyourbuck @daffi-990 @bidisasterbuckdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @babybibuck @evanbegins @fortheloveofbuddie @spagheddiediaz @loserdiaz @giddyupbuck @aroeddiediaz @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @kitteneddiediaz @elvensorceress @thekristen999 @smilingbuckley @epicbuddieficrecs @underwater-ninja-13 @shortsighted-owl @loveyouanyway (also sorry if I've missed anyone, so many have changed urls and I can't keep up sksksks)

#james writes #ngl writing Buck with someone other than Eddie is so weird #but I watch The Kiss on repeat and it makes it all okay #just so giddy about buck having a potential boyfriend #i'm a teeny bit insecure about this so don't be mean kskskds #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 abc #911 fic #bucktommy wip #911verse #911 fanfic

[angelltheninth]

Arcane Characters Sleepwalking

Pairing: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Ekko, Silco, Sevika, Jayce, Viktor, Mel x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, sleepwalking, domestic fluff, cuddles, sleep taking, kissing

A/N: Season 2 in Winter 2024! Probably!

Jinx used to sleepwalk a whole lot more before you got into a relationship. Now she has someone to hold her and someone who she can hold. It's much better then an empty bed.

When she does sleepwalk it never lasts long. You're alerted by the sounds of metal and sparks flying that she's up. It's a miracle how she didn't manage to lose a finger or worse yet but her muscle memory is just that good. Good thing too because you might end up with some third degree burns otherwise but she always turns to you with a big smile, awake or not.

"Are you awake too? Fun! Let's work on this project together, sugar. Who cares that it's late! The best ideas come to you when it's late. Wake up? I am awake. Ouch! What the fu- sugar? What are you doing out of bed? Was I sleep walking again? Sheesh, thought I was over that one!"

Vi never sleepwalked before she met you. Suppose she wasn't safe enough for her brain to afford such a thing. She had to be on full alert and with her guard up at all times.

Not used to stuff like that she was actually a bit spooked when you woke her up and she was standing in the middle of the living room. She can't remember getting out of bed at all, or having any dream that would pull her out of bed for that matter. Good thing she has you or else she might have mindlessly walked around until morning. Would her body even get rest that way? Probably not.

"Uh... where am I sweet stuff? I was sleepwalking. Well that's a first for me. As far as I know I never used to do that and if I did I would have dead by now. Unless sleepfighting is also a thing. Good thing neither of us had to find out. You'll have to hold onto me extra tight from now on."

Caitlyn sleepwalked a lot when she was a kid. It was a habit she was sure she left behind even before she started going to the Academy. Very odd that it would happen again now.

Even weirder is every time you find her she's acting like she's in a shooting renege, except she's not really holding anything. Thankfully she's not. You gave her a real scare when you stepped in front of her like that, but it was also just what she needed to wake up. Well this a little awkward, standing around in her nightgown, pretending to shoot a target. She's all to happy to forget this and go back to bed.

"This is so embarrassing. Darling I can see that you're highly amused by this but please do promise me you won't say anything. I've had a hard time convincing everyone to take me seriously, this would ruin everything. Would a kiss help sweeten the deal?"

Ekko has been seen sleepwalking plenty of times already and at this point no one questions it anymore. He's always pretty loud when he does sleepwalk so it's easy to find him.

Mostly he's making noise by knocking over all the gadgets in his workshop, so he's never that far away from you. One kiss is enough to wake him right up but not always enough to get him to go back to bed if he's close to finishing what he's started in his sleep. No wonder his light is often seen being on after early hours of the morning. It's better in your company though.

"Sleepwalking, sleepworking, it's all the same Firefly. I don't have that much to do anyway. I don't know why my brain started on this though, there's a lot I still needed to stabilize here. Wanna be my brain battery? Hug me for a while, that always helps me out."

Silco doesn't leave the room when he's sleepwalking, and he doesn't do much else then pace back and forth, looking deep in thought. Too deep for someone who's supposed to be resting right now.

If you try to wake him up he will start talking about how much he loves you. It's odd seeing him be so affectionate, but then again his guard is down when he's asleep so the words flow out of him easier. It's cute in a way and you wish you could record him to show him later, he'd be so embaressed by his own words. But alas, you opt to pull him back into bed.

"You are very evil if you would use my sleepwalking against me. I'm very impressed by you, my darling. We have more in common then I thought. Or have I corrupted you? Either way thank you for letting me get some sleep. Stress seems to be manifesting in interesting ways lately."

Sevika denies the fact that she sleepwalks, there's just no way that it's true. She can't be doing something... cute. You decide to prove it to her next time, before she has the time to get back into bed.

The next time she sleepwalks you walk right with you, right beside her as she goes about her training routine like it's morning. She's still just as dedicated but as soon as she starts doing squats you tap her on the shoulder and make her jump. Why is... oh. She really was sleepwalking wasn't she? You should be happy she didn't have her other arm, you might have gotten a broken nose.

"Don't smirk at me like that sweetheart. It ain't funny in the slightest. This is why I didn't want... you're not gonna make fun of me for this. Actually, I'm already on my knees and you seem to be right in front of my face. Can I do anything to make you forget this ever happened?"

Viktor makes some noise when he sleepwaks because of his crutch. Lucily he doesn't do anything too crazy while he's sleepwalking. He reads his notes.

Or pretends to read while carrying the book and mumbling to himself. The mumbles make zero sense to you but they're adorable to listen to wuth that aceent of his. What's more adorable is the confused look on his face when you snap your fingers and wake him up. Oh what can he say, his brain is constantly running. He didn't get this smart without working late hours. Late nights yes, but that brain of his still needs sleep.

"It isn't that big of a deal darling. You've seen me do stranger stuff over the years. It provided you with free entertainment did it not? You make a good argument, it would be much better to wait for sunrise cuddling in bed with you."

Jayce sleepwalks all the time. He walks to his workshop and then into the kitchen, starting to get all the ingredients to make breakfast. That solves the mystery of why the kitchen is a mess.

He's not the best of cooks even when he's awake let alone when he's asleep. He's okay, he had to learn to cook for himself and his mom but you're way better. Flour goes flying everywhere when you wake him up but he's not that worried, at least he can clean it up with company. You can also help him make some actual food as long as you're here.

"It'll be a bit cold by breakfast unless we take it really slow. Thank you for waking me up babe. I didn't make that much of a mess this time, it used to be so much worse, plus most messes I make are cleaned up by you very enthusiastically."

Mel sleepwalks very, very rarely. She has a habit of humming to herself when she does so you're alerted to it. It's not unusual for her to get up at random points of the night otherwise.

She is an artistic soul at heart and therefore she sometimes gets ideas in her sleep. As a good artist she wants to at least write them down so she doesn't forget by morning. If she has made it to her paints then you could end up with a bit of it on your face. Her sleepwalking always gives you an excuse to lift her up and carry her to bed, so you can't scold her for it.

"Let me get this down and then we may go back to bed. It may have been inspired by you. You'll have to wait until it's finished to find out. You can't rush perfection, darling. But you can carry me back to bed. I know how much you love doing that."

#arcane #arcane x reader #jinx x reader #vi x reader #caitlyn x reader #ekko x reader #silco x reader #sevika x reader #marcus x reader #jayce x reader #viktor x reader #mel x reader #arcane imagines #arcane headcanons #league of leguends #league of legends imagine #league of legends headcanons #x reader

[wholoveseggs]

Hello, how are you? Could i request an angsty but smutty and fluff fic of Elijah and reader where they get into a fight but makeup in the end?

Stubborn

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You and Elijah get into a fight about his protective nature. He thinks you are too stubborn, and you think he's too controlling. How will you resolve your issues?

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon! I don't know if this is very angsty, but it certainly is very smutty ♡♡

4.1k words - Warnings: smuttttt, very little plot, Cami being the best, dom!elijah (you like him in control? well... here you go...), fingering, squirting, angry sex...

"I'm not some damsel in distress, I don't need your protection!" You yelled, louder than you meant to. Arguing with Elijah was always a test of your restraint. He made it so damn difficult, he was always calm and composed. Sometimes you just wanted to push his buttons.

"Darling, I have so many enemies, and you're not invincible." He tried to reason.

"Don't patronize me, I know that, but you treat me like I can't take care of myself!" You snapped, pacing around the living room. You tried to calm yourself down, you didn't want to say something you'd regret, but the anger bubbling inside you wouldn't go away.

"I'm not trying to patronize you, I just think you could make better decisions." He said softly, his eyes following you as you paced.

"It's like you're treating me like a child! We're supposed to be equals, and you always talk to me like you're the parent and I'm the kid!" Your voice cracked a little, when you got angry you also would cry. You hated that about yourself.

Elijah could see the pain in your eyes, you were his soft and sweet y/n. He just wanted to protect you. He tried to approach you, to hold you and comfort you, but you pushed him away.

His actions made you feel weak, and foolish, here was a man that faced countless dangers, he was centuries old, he fought vampires and werewolves, witches and even his own siblings. And you were just this fragile thing, this tiny human he had to watch out for. It made you feel so weak and pathetic, all your insecurities bubbling up inside you, the tears falling down your cheeks.

You stormed away from him, and he let you, because he knew if he pushed you, it would just make things worse.

You had been dating Elijah for two months now, and in that time, he had taken on the role of a protective boyfriend. You liked being taken care of, but sometimes it felt like he didn't see you as an equal.

You had been arguing about this a lot lately. You didn't like being treated like you were breakable. You weren't. You had dealt with plenty of dangers in your life, and he didn't give you enough credit.

He was a stubborn man, and you were a stubborn woman, so the tension kept rising, until you finally had to get away from him. So you decided to stay at Cami's for a few days, she was a good friend, and she didn't judge you. She could always use some company anyways.

"So, he's a bit over protective, huh?" Cami asked. You were curled up on her couch, drinking a glass of wine. You were both having a night in, wearing pajamas and doing self-care.

"Yeah, and I know he means well, but I really value my independence, it's not something I'm willing to give up," You admitted.

"Do you feel like he doesn't respect you?" She asked, taking a sip of her own wine.

"No, he does, I know that, but it feels like he doesn't trust me." You said, looking down into your glass.

Cami stood and grabbed some snacks, tossing you a bag of your favorite chips. "I don't think that's it, I think he's scared. Scared to lose you. He's been through so much, and he's lost a lot of people he's loved." She said, plopping back down on the couch.

You let out a long sigh, you knew of his pain, but it was still hard to hear out loud. He held all of his trauma inside him, and sometimes it was difficult for him to share, even with you.

"I love him Cami, it's just hard. I've always had to take care of myself, I guess I just have a hard time accepting someone wanting to do that for me." You said softly, feeling the tears brimming your eyes.

"Have you told him that? That you love him?" She asked.

"No, I... I want him to say it first." You admitted.

Cami chuckled and took a long sip of her wine, then grabbed the remote and turned on a movie. It was one of those sappy romances that were so over the top and cheesy. But that's why they were so fun to watch.

"Just tell him. I'm sure he loves you too." Cami said, her gaze fixed on the tv.

"I know," you sighed, "I just want him to initiate, his so reserved, and I'm tired of always being the one who has to take the first step." You grumbled.

"He's probably worried about scaring you away, or making things awkward, you know how he can be." She said, turning to look at you, giving you a comforting smile.

"Yeah, I guess." You mumbled, curling up further on the couch.

Cami gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and the two of you continued to watch your movie, the sappy love story playing out in front of you.

"So," she said, breaking the silence, "how's the sex?"

You choked on your wine, sputtering a bit before regaining your composure. Cami was a little shit sometimes.

"The sex is amazing," You said, smirking at her. "But... I'm always the one initiating it. Sometimes I think his biggest problem is that he's too gentlemanly."

"Well, what have you done to make him be more spontaneous?" Cami asked, grabbing the bottle of wine and pouring more in her glass.

"Me?" You squeaked. "What did I do?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to take control because you never gave him permission." She asked.

You sat and thought about that. You were usually the one who would start things. You initiated kisses, hugs, hand holding, even the sex. Elijah was so reserved, so proper, he didn't want to overstep. It made you feel like he didn't desire you, which was ridiculous, you had seen him undressing you with his eyes.

"That's fair." You said. "I didn't realize he was waiting for permission."

"Men are idiots." Cami stated, making you laugh.

"Sometimes," you said, chuckling. "I just want to see him be the one to initiate, you know?"

"I know." She said, leaning back on the couch.

You finished the bottle of wine and watched the rest of the movie. It was so sweet, the ending was a happy one, the couple was together and they were in love. You wished life was that simple.

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. Cami was already awake, making coffee.

"Ugh," you groaned, rubbing your temples. "I should have drank more water,"

"I tried to remind you." Cami said, smirking at you.

"Well, excuse me for being drunk," You replied.

She handed you a mug of coffee, and you sipped it slowly, letting the warmth of the drink soothe your throat.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," you said.

"You know I don't mind." She replied, sitting on the couch next to you.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, sighing.

"I love him, but I think I need some space. Some time to myself." You said softly.

"I think that's a good idea." She replied.

"Are we doing the right thing? Am I being selfish?" You asked, chewing your bottom lip.

"No, you're not. You're being realistic. You need some space and some time to yourself." She replied.

"I'm going to go to the compound and pick up some clothes and stuff." You said.

"Want me to come with you?" She asked.

"No, that's ok, I think I can handle myself." You replied, smiling at her.

She gave you a reassuring squeeze and you got up, feeling a bit better after your talk.

"Thanks Cami, I'll call you later," You said, grabbing your keys and heading out.

Elijah was sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking a glass of whiskey, and he had a book open in front of him, though he wasn't reading it. His mind was too preoccupied. He missed you terribly, it had only been a couple days, but it felt like an eternity.

He thought back to the last conversation you had had. You had stormed off, and he hadn't chased after you, because he knew you needed time to cool down. He wanted to tell you he was sorry, but he knew you didn't want to hear it right now.

You were the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he didn't want to lose you. He was used to losing people, he had spent centuries running, he had been betrayed, lied to, hurt. But he had never met anyone quite like you.

You were sweet, funny, smart, and caring. He had fallen for you quickly, but he had been too afraid to admit it. Like if he said it out loud, everything would fall apart.

But in your absence he realized his mistake, and how foolish he had been. No more wasting time, he needs to tell you that he loves you, despite how stubborn you are.

You walked into the compound, it was eerily quiet, you hoped Elijah was out. So you could just quickly grab your things and leave.

You didn't expect him to be waiting for you in the kitchen, his face was serious, but his eyes were full of emotion.

"Elijah, I'm just here to pick up some clothes," You said, trying to walk past him. He stepped in front of you, blocking your way.

"We need to talk." He said, his tone firm.

"No, we really don't, I just want my things," You said, trying to move around him. He moved again, his arms crossed, and his face was stern.

"Stop treating me like a child! Let me by!" You yelled. He let you pass him and you ran up to your bedroom, grabbing some clothes.

He followed you and stood in the doorway, watching you, his eyes boring into your skin.

"Stop looking at me like that," You said, throwing some clothes into a bag.

"I hate seeing you upset," He replied, his voice soft.

"I'm not upset, I'm just angry." You said, moving past him to go into the bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush.

He followed you and leaned against the doorframe, watching you gather your toiletries.

"Please, let's just talk." He pleaded.

You sighed, looking up at him, his expression was pained, his jaw was clenched. You could see the desperation in his eyes. Your anger was still in charge though and you pushed past him again and started packing your things on the bed.

"So talk, I'm listening," You said harshly, still not looking at him.

He took a deep breath, his fists clenched, and he closed his eyes for a moment, composing himself. He knew he couldn't get through to you when you were angry like this.

"You're right," He said, opening his eyes and looking at you. "I'm sorry. I haven't been treating you fairly. I've been trying to protect you. But you are being stubborn and you're not letting me explain,"

You turned to look at him, trying to ignore how good he looked. His hair was messy, like he had been running his hands through it, and he was wearing a black shirt, his sleeves rolled up, and his tie was hanging loose around his neck. A part of you wanted to just give in and kiss him, but the other part of you was still pissed off.

He could hear your heart beating faster, your body temperature rising. He knew that he had an effect on you, and he was enjoying seeing you get flustered. He gave you a crooked smirk, and took a step closer to you, and you backed up, hitting the bed.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady your breathing. You were angry, but his presence always made your body react, and your head spin.

"So stubborn," he growled, pushing you onto the bed.

"Fuck you, Elijah," you hissed, trying to sit up.

"Not today," he smirked, pinning you down with his weight.

"I said, fuck you," You growled, pushing on his chest.

He chuckled and leaned down, his face inches from yours. His eyes were dark, his lips curled up in a devilish smile.

"Say please," He purred, his breath ghosting over your lips.

You let out a frustrated groan, and he kissed you, hard. You whimpered, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring it, tasting you.

"Is this what you want? To be fucked?" He whispered, his lips grazing your ear.

"No," you lied, trying to squirm away from him, but his grip was too tight.

"Don't lie, darling, your body betrays you," He growled, nibbling your earlobe before leaving a trail of hickeys down your neck.

He suddenly tore the shirt off of you, making you gasp. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, his other hand moving to your waist, pulling your skirt off.

"Eli- my clothes!" You whined, but he just chuckled, his eyes roaming your body.

"I'll buy you new ones," He smirked, nipping at your jaw, then capturing your lips with his.

"You can't just-" you were cut off by him biting your lip. You groaned and he released you, his hands roaming your body.

"Stop being so stubborn," He whispered, his fingers brushing over your lace panties, making you shiver.

"I'm not," you argued, biting back a moan as his fingers teased your clit.

He laid on his side next to you, opening your legs and pushing your panties out of the way. He grazed over your clit with the pad of his index finger, teasing you slowly. He loved this, teasing you, torturing you. You were so beautiful when you were desperate for him.

You whined and pushed your hips against his hand, and he pulled his hand away, smirking.

"You're such a tease," You growled, glaring at him.

"You're cute when you're angry," He smiled, his fingers returning to your pussy. He tapped your clit lightly, his lips ghosting over yours. You tried not to react, but it felt so good, this dominant side of him was driving you crazy.

He slid two fingers into you, and began thrusting them slowly. You gasped and arched your back, moaning loudly. Watching your reaction was thrilling, his cock was painfully hard, but he wanted to make you cum first.

"Listen to those sweet sounds," he purred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right. “So filthy and wet, the way your body responds, it's like you were made for me."

"You're a fucking asshole," you moaned, trying to buck your hips against his fingers.

"I can stop, if you want," He whispered, his voice dark. 

"No," You whimpered, "I-I'm close."

"Oh, I know, darling." He smiled, "You're going to cum, and I'm going to make you cum again, and again, until all the stubborn thoughts in your head disappear."

His fingers were pumping fast now, and you couldn't help the noises you were making. Your orgasm was building in such a way that you knew it would be intense. He was right, you were stubborn, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan, but it was becoming more and more difficult to hold back.

"Eli- wait, your gonna make me-" You stuttered, gasping as he added a third finger, stretching you even more.

"Make a mess?" He purred, curling his fingers just right, hitting your g-spot.

The lewd, wet, squelching noises coming from your pussy were embarrassing, and the fact that he was enjoying them made it worse. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, your whole body trembling, you were so close.

He sped up his pace, and he could see the moment when you reached your peak. Your body tensed up, your back arching, and then a loud cry escaped your lips.

Your juices spilled out onto his fingers, covering his hand. It was so much, you had never squirted before, and the look on Elijah's face was pure lust and amusement.

It made you embarrassed and a bit angry and you tried to move away, but he kept his fingers buried deep inside you, not letting you escape.

"Don't be ashamed," He said, kissing your forehead, his fingers moving slowly, causing your legs to tremble.

"I'm not," You panted, glaring at him, trying to suppress a moan.

"Really?" He purred, his eyes locking with yours, "Then why are you blushing?"

He smirked, and you tried to hide your face in the sheets, but he wouldn't let you. He was still smirking, and you were getting angrier.

"I'm not-"

"Shh, love, you can't hide from me," he cooed, his fingers still pumping into you, stretching you out. Building up another climax.

"Eli-fuck," You gasped, the pleasure building.

"That's it, let me hear those pretty sounds," He whispered, his voice husky.

He was still fully clothed, and he hadn't even touched himself, he was only focused on you.

He kept fucking his fingers into you, his thumb circling your clit, making sure every inch of your pussy was being stimulated.

Your body was trembling, and you could feel yourself getting close again, you pushed your heels into the bed, trying to get away, but he didn't stop, he just kept going, his pace relentless.

"I can't- oh fuck-," You gasped, arching your back as the orgasm crashed over you. Your wetness soaked his hand and the bed below.

Elijah pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean. Then he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips, tasting all of you.

You tried to glare at him, but he was now kissing your neck, his free hand moving down to cup your breast, teasing your nipples.

"I'm still mad at you," You panted, trying not to moan.

"I know," He smirked, "And I'm not finished with you."

He grabbed your thighs, spreading your legs, and settled between them, his eyes roaming over your body.

"Such a pretty thing," He murmured, tracing patterns on your skin.

He took ahold of your waist, pulling you towards him, and began to grind against your wet pussy, making you whimper.

"You're so sensitive, baby," He cooed, his lips brushing over your collarbone.

You could feel his erection straining against his pants, and you could tell he was enjoying this just as much as you were. He undid his belt, pulling it out of the loops, and tossing it to the floor.

He pulled your arms above your head, his hand gripping your wrists. He unzipped his pants and took his cock out, pressing it against your entrance.

"You're already soaked for me," He whispered, kissing you deeply.

You moaned into the kiss, and he pushed his cock into you, making you whimper. He was so thick, and his length filled you completely, making your body tremble.

He began to thrust into you, his pace steady, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing over your skin.

"I'm not a toy," You managed to say, your voice strained.

"No, you're not, you're mine," He growled, his hips slamming into yours, his cock hitting all the right spots.

"Fuck," You gasped, arching your back.

His grip on your wrists tightened, and he spread your legs even wider. He grinded his hips slowly, wanting to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible.

You could feel the pressure building, and it was becoming harder to concentrate, all you could focus on was his cock, his weight on top of you, the way he was looking at you.

"Say it," He growled, his hips moving faster now. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," You moaned, your voice cracking, your resolve breaking with every deep stroke.

The sound of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy filled the room, mixed with your moans and gasps, and the way the bed was creaking. He knew you were close, he could feel your muscles starting to clench around him.

"No no stubborn one, you don't get to cum yet," He growled, nipping at your ear.

He wrapped your legs around his waist, pinning you to the bed. His pace increased and he leaned in to kiss you.

"Come on darling, give in, admit I'm right," He whispered.

"Eli, please," You moaned, your fingers gripping his shirt.

"All you have to do is submit," He cooed, pressing his lips to yours.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to resist the urge to give in, but it was so intense and his pace was relentless. He wasn't going to stop, not until you broke.

"Look at the way you open up for me," He said, his voice husky as he grinded against you. "Your needy little pussy, milking my cock, begging to be filled."

You looked down at where his cock was buried inside of you, moving in and out of your pussy. You could see how wet you were, covering his pants and your thighs, making a mess of the sheets.

"Hmm, you like that? Seeing how wet you are, all for me," He whispered, leaning down to kiss you. "Just admit that you are stubborn, and we can cum together."

Your whole body was shaking, your orgasm so close, but you fought it, squeezing your thighs together, trying to close your legs, but he wouldn't let you.

You gave up, you didn't care about the fight anymore, you just wanted to cum, you just wanted him to stop torturing you. You couldn't think straight, everything was too much, his thrusts were deep and hard, his cock was filling you, stretching you out, he knew just how to fuck you.

You couldn't hold back anymore and you finally gave in, submitting to him. "You're right," you gasped, your voice barely audible. "Please, Eli, fuck, I'm sorry, just let me cum."

"Good girl," He groaned, leaning back and spreading your thighs wide, pounding into you. He began to stroke your clit with his thumb, drawing circles, as his hips snapped hard and fast.

It was all too much, and you felt an intense release, your body convulsing, your wetness soaking him, making a mess of the clothes he was still wearing and the bed.

He chuckled, watching your cheeks flush in embarrassment as he fucked you through it. He made you squirt all over him, submitting to him completely.

You were still trembling, trying to catch your breath, you couldn't focus, your whole body was tingling with pleasure, you felt like you were floating.

He kissed you deeply, pressing his body to yours before he let out a low groan and came inside you, his cock twitching. You shuddered, your pussy still sensitive, but he didn't stop, he continued moving his hips slowly.

You could feel the warmth of his cum filling you, his cock throbbing, his breathing uneven. He kissed you softly and slowly, his fingers brushing over your cheek, caressing your face as he pulled out of you.

Now that you had come down from your high, you felt a mixture of frustration and humiliation. You tried to move, but he held you there, a devilish grin plastered on his face.

He shifted onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him, your body on top of his, your chest pressing against his chest.

"I love you," he whispered, pulling you in for another kiss.

"Eli," you muttered, burying your face in his chest. You couldn't believe he had fucked you in that way, and now he was saying the three words you wanted to hear the most. He was so perfect and so infuriating at the same time. You were angry that he was able to make you give in so easily, but it was worth it. It had never felt so good.

"I love you too, asshole," you replied, making him laugh.

He kissed you once more before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. His hands rested on your lower back, tracing lazy circles.

"I'm sorry for being protective, it's not because I don't trust you, it's because I'm afraid of losing you," he said quietly.

"I know, and I'm sorry for saying that you're a control freak," you apologized.

"No you're not," He smirked, kissing you again.

"I'm getting there," you sighed.

He laughed, tracing the curve of your hips with his fingertips. You could feel him harden underneath you, and it turned you on again. And you slowly ground your hips against his, teasing him.

His eyes grew dark, and he placed his hands on your ass, squeezing firmly. "Darling, don't," He said warningly, his voice strained.

You ignored him, rolling your hips, grinding into his lap, you wanted more.

"Don't be so stubborn Eli-,"

You were on your back before you could finish your sentence, your legs spread, his lips on yours.

You were definitely going to fight with him more often…

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #cami o'connell #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

[bellaxgiornata]

Under the Stars

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Frank finally convinces you to join him on a camping trip and he intends to make sure that you fully enjoy it.

Warnings/Tags: 18+; smut, oral (fem receiving)

a/n: I've finally finished this little smutty fic for Frank! I needed to just finally let it go and share it because I've been writing this piece for far too long. Hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Frank Castle One Shot Tag List: @heimtathurs @linamarr @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @mattkinsella @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx  @leikelle @pinkratts @1988-fiend @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza

Resting comfortably along Frank’s chest with your head burrowed just beneath his chin, you rose and fell in sync with each of his slow, rhythmic exhales. Your eyes remained fixed on the night sky above as you listened to the sound of Frank's even heartbeat in your ear that was pressed against his chest. The sound only further relaxed you in his embrace, your own arms tightening their hold around him.

The pair of you had set up camp at this campsite earlier today, though truthfully it had been Frank doing most of the work setting everything up. You had spent the afternoon enjoying the view of him bent in half, admiring his ass in his jeans as he put the tent together. You had attempted to help him, but mainly you'd stayed out of his way so you wouldn't mess everything up. 

Now it had grown late as a smattering of stars dotted the black sky above. As you lay cuddled against his side, you could feel the day's exhaustion finally hitting you. The hike you'd both taken earlier had worn you out even if it had been enjoyable spending all that time alone with him.

This camping trip was the first one you’d ever let Frank talk you into joining him on, even if he’d mentioned bringing you along with him plenty of times before. But now, lying beneath the stars with only the sound of the crickets chirping as you cuddled up beside him, you could see what he meant by it being peaceful. It was just the two of you out here surrounded by nature with no other distractions. Nothing but uninterrupted time together.

It was perfect.

Frank’s fingers continued to gently trace a pattern along your shoulder, just over the fabric of the shirt you were wearing. He’d been absently doing that since you'd both laid down among the grass a bit ago and you couldn't help but to focus on the steady loops his fingers continued to draw along you. Smiling in contentment at the repetitive gesture, you sighed audibly as you slid your leg over Frank’s thick, solid one beside you, relaxing further against him.  

“Okay, you’re right,” you admitted, breaking the silence. “I could get used to this. It is very relaxing being out here all by ourselves, just surrounded by all the pretty scenery.” Poking your finger into his chest, you added, “Though I’m still not so sure about that coffee maker you brought. I can’t see how it’ll make good coffee in the morning.”

Frank chuckled warmly, the sound a sweet, rumbling vibration against your ear still pressed to his chest. Your smile only grew wider in return, your hand flattening along him and affectionately running back and forth over the expanse of his broad chest. You could feel the muscles beneath his black tee-shirt, each and every defined, hard bit of them under your palm.

“It’s just coffee, honey,” he replied in his deep voice, shifting his head so he could look down at you. “It doesn’t need to be any of that fancy shit to get the job done.”

Turning your head, you glanced up at him, taking in the teasing smile just barely present on his lips. Even in the dim moonlight from above he looked exceptionally handsome as he gazed fondly back down at you, his warm, brown eyes full of affection.

“And that,” you said, tone teasing, “is where we differ, Frank.”

“Well either way,” he replied, his hand sliding down your shoulder until it landed on the swell of your hip, easily drawing you all the way up on top of himself next, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Though I think I could make this even more enjoyable for you, sweetheart.”

" Frank ," you whisper-yelled, your eyes darting around the pair of you as you steadied yourself with your hands on his shoulders. "We can't do that here!"

Frank laughed beneath you, both of his hands gliding over your hips before they landed on your ass, gripping it firmly in his palms. He grinned up at your surprised face before you felt one of his large hands lightly tap your ass. You couldn't fight back the giggle that slipped out of you–you loved this playful side of Frank.

"No one here but us, sweetheart," he pointed out. "We can do whatever we want. Next campsite is far enough away that it doesn't matter. No one'll see us." 

He bit his lip, a sly smirk sliding its way across his face before he ground his hips upwards into you. You sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his already hardening cock, eyes widening at the unexpected gesture.

"Though I s’pose they might hear you," he teasingly rumbled out.

Heat burned low in you at his words, your hands tightening along his shoulders, fingers digging into him. Frank’s tongue slipped out between his lips, your eyes watching as it slid along his bottom lip while he cocked a brow at you.

"What d'ya say, honey?" he asked. "Want to enjoy this camping trip even more?"

His large palms began kneading your ass over your jeans, taking their time as they moved in sync with each other. Your eyelids fluttered as your hips involuntarily ground back against him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Frank damn well knew how to work you up. 

"What'd you–" you paused, gasping when Frank slowly ground himself up into you again with that cocky grin on his mouth. Blinking rapidly, you tried to finish your sentence instead of focusing on the wet heat growing between your thighs. "What'd you have in mind?" you breathed out.

Before you knew what was happening, Frank had rolled you onto your back, one of his hands carefully cradling the back of your head as he did. He’d climbed atop you just as fluidly, straddling you beneath him with a mischievous look on his face as he gazed down at you, the moonlight softly washing over his features.

"Oh I know somethin' you’d like, honey," he replied cheekily. 

Leaning down, Frank closed the space between you both before pressing his warm lips to yours in a delicate, slow kiss. Your hands roughly tightened their grip on his shoulders, your nails digging into them as you eagerly responded to his mouth. Tugging at him desperately, you attempted to draw him further flush to the front of yourself, your mouth moving hungrily against his as you quickly found yourself growing wetter from anticipation–it had been a few days since you'd last seen each other and had a chance to have sex. But despite that, Frank only continued his leisurely pace, sensually sucking your bottom lip into his mouth as you whimpered beneath him, your hips involuntarily bucking upwards against him.

Frank's solid thighs easily held you in place beneath him as he continued to straddle you, making the impatient squirming of your hips useless. His tongue danced along your lip in his mouth as your nails clawed helplessly at his thick, broad shoulders in return. Soft, desperate whines slipped out of you at the attention his tongue was paying you, but you were too far gone to be embarrassed about the pathetic noises you were making. You just wanted him already. 

The sound of a zipper undoing soon met your ears over the silence of the night, though it took you a moment to realize that Frank had unzipped your jeans with one hand. Seconds later you felt him slip his warm hand inside the denim. You loosed a pleased moan when the pads of his fingers slid over your underwear, your eyes instantly snapping shut when he brushed over your covered clit.

Finally releasing your lip from between both of his, you heard him chuckle lightly. Your eyes flew back open at the sound only to be met with the sight of a pleased Frank grinning down at you. He began rubbing his fingers along your covered mound in a delicious, slow drag back and forth, his eyes focused along your face as it twisted in pleasure at his touch. With the sight of him above you swathed in the moonlight as his fingers continued to tease you over your underwear, another moan managed to tumble out of your lips. Frank seized the opportunity, abruptly leaning forward and pressing his mouth back to yours before swallowing the sound of pleasure down as his tongue pushed its way inside your mouth.

Lying along the grass, you began desperately grinding your hips upwards into Frank’s hand, your fingers curling around his shirt in sheer desperation. Soft whines and loud, panting gasps began to fall out of you as his fingers increased their pace against you, your mouth moving fervently back against Frank’s in a silent plea for more. You could feel your arousal further dampening your underwear with the way he was touching you, your body aching for more of him now.

Unexpectedly, Frank broke away from your mouth and you grunted an irritated noise of protest. Your head rose up from the grass, your lips chasing after his mouth with hunger in your eyes, but he only offered you a soft peck in return. With a frustrated groan your nails slid further down to claw at Frank’s back, your hips grinding harder against his fingers as you squirmed helplessly beneath him.

“ Frank ,” you groaned.

"So wet already for me, honey," he purred back at you. "Y'know how much I love it when you get like this."

You whined, your head falling back in the grass as you huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t tease, Frank,” you begged. “That’s not nice.”

He shook his head at you, amusement shining in his eyes. “Not teasin’, sweetheart,” he assured you. “Just takin’ my time. Promised I’d help you enjoy this trip even more, didn’t I?”

His hand gradually began to continue its delicious movements, gliding back and forth over your damp underwear. As he did, his other hand grabbed the hem of your shirt before pushing it all the way up and over your breasts. When it was finally out of his way, he grabbed onto the edge of your bra before sharply yanking it down and releasing your right breast to the slight chill of the evening. A faint surprised gasp slipped out of you as the cold danced along your newly exposed skin, goosebumps raising across your bare stomach.

Frank’s attention focused downwards, a satisfied smile gradually drawing itself across his lips. He began to gently pull at your stiffening nipple, tugging it between his calloused thumb and index finger. The sensation sent a burst of pleasure through you, your hips yet again squirming beneath his other hand's tantalizing movements. You wanted his fingers or his mouth or his cock on you or in you and you wanted it now .

"Frank, come on," you panted out, writhing beneath him. "Please, baby. Stop–stop teasing me."

“Relax,” Frank murmured, still grinning back at you. “I’ll get you there, sweetheart. No need to be in such a hurry. Just gonna take my time with you.”

For another moment, his calloused fingers gently toyed with your nipple, alternating between lightly tugging at the hardened peak and gently but firmly pinching it between his fingers. When you were biting your lip between desperate whines of ‘please, Frank’ he finally lowered his head towards your chest, his fingers releasing your nipple after a final, teasing pinch. Cupping your breast in his large hand, he gradually drew his lips towards you, but the moment his hot breath grazed over your cold skin, a shudder raced through you, your nipple further stiffening. 

His warm, wet lips soon wrapped themselves gently around the sensitive peak just before he tenderly sucked it entirely into his mouth. You moaned at the contrast of the heat of his mouth to that of the light chill of the night as your back arched up from the grass towards him. As the tip of his tongue lightly circled your nipple, you felt his other hand glide up towards the top of your underwear before his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric. Your eyes pinched shut in response, your right hand flying up from his back and tangling in his dark hair as you expelled a breathy sigh.

Frank rumbled out a deep moan against your breast as two of his fingers gathered the slick between your folds, clearly pleased with how wet you'd become from his teasing. At the sound, your left hand fisted the fabric of his shirt, desperately grabbing at him as waves of pleasure coursed through you. Your eyes squeezed tighter shut when both of his fingertips gently eased their way inside of you. 

" Frank ," you breathed out.

Frank's teeth gently bit down onto your nipple at the sound of his name and you sucked in a sharp breath as white danced across your closed lids. Your fingers tightened in his hair at the pleasant sting that shot through you while his fingers gradually sank all the way inside of you. 

“Feels so–so good,” you whispered out. “Please don't stop.”

He released your nipple from between his lips with a soft, wet pop . Eyes fluttering open, you saw him gazing up at you as his face hovered above your chest. A self-satisfied smile sluggishly spread itself across his face, his lips glistening with his own saliva. Without warning, his fingers slid out before he thrust them fully inside of you. Your head rolled back along the grass, a moan flying out of you immediately. 

“That's my girl,” he praised softly. “So good for me. Lettin’ me take care of you like this.”

You bit your lip, your eyes focused on the stars shining above in the dark. Frank's thick fingers continued to pump in and out of you as you felt his other hand slip your left breast from the confines of your bra. A gasp fell out of you as his fingers began to tease your other nipple.

“You like that, d'ya?” he purred.

You nodded your head frantically along the grass in response. “Mhmm,” you hummed out. “Yes.”

“But you want more, don't ya, sweetheart?” he asked.

Your eyes snapped shut again when you felt his fingers hit deep inside of you, curling perfectly to hit the right spot. Stars danced across the back of your eyelids, as many as there were along the night sky as yet again you moaned out. Everything he was doing felt amazing.

“Yes,” you panted out, answering his question. “Need you, Frank. Please.”

“I got you, sweetheart,” he assured you.

Bottom lip rolling further back between your teeth, you felt his lips encircle your left nipple. His fingers continued their avid movements inside of you as he continued their pace, pumping them into you over and over. Every few thrusts his fingers would hit the right spot before both of them curled until you were a writhing and moaning mess along the grass beneath him.

It wasn't long before you felt that coiling pleasure tightening deep in your gut. Your breath was coming in fast and hard by the time he finally released your nipple from his mouth. Though he promptly began to place lingering, open-mouthed kisses in a delicious trail that gradually moved down towards your stomach, the sensation causing your toes to curl in your shoes. The closer his mouth neared your aching clit, the more breathless you felt yourself becoming. 

When he finally reached the place you needed him most, his fingers slowed their pace inside of you. Frank's plush lips lightly kissed the sensitive bundle of nerves and your hips jerked up towards his mouth at the faint touch. Raising your head from the grass, you glanced down at the sight of him between your thighs as his fingers briefly slipped out of you, both of his hands working to pull your jeans and underwear halfway down your legs and out of his way. As if he could feel your eyes on him, his head tilted upwards just enough that he could look at you beneath his lashes. The little smirk that crossed his lips had your cunt tightening involuntarily around nothing, a slight whine leaving you at the loss of his fingers.

“Gonna take care of you, honey,” he promised. “I got you.”

You hissed out a sharp breath between your teeth, your head falling back along the grass beneath you as he eased his fingers back inside of you. Seconds later you felt his hot breath blow across your clit and your hands flew out to your sides, gripping tight to the blades of grass next to you as your breath came in even shallower.

“Thatta girl,” Frank praised gently.

His lips wrapped around your clit as his left hand grabbed onto your hip, pressing you down into the grass and holding you steady the moment you began squirming beneath him. He was switching between sucking your clit into his mouth and lapping sensually at it until your eyes were rolling back behind closed lids, your breath entirely catching in your throat. Your hips were frantically trying to fight his firm hold to keep you still, bucking up against his face. His hand only tightened on your hip as he moaned against your cunt, burying himself even further between your thighs as his nose pressed hard into your pubic bone.

Between the wet sounds mingling with Frank’s own deep and muffled moans vibrating against your cunt and the way his fingers once again increased their pace as he fucked you with them, you soon felt yourself teetering on the edge of your climax. Right hand releasing the grass beside you that you'd had in a death grip, you reached out and grabbed onto his hair yet again. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you breathed out in a flurry of curses.

Your back arched along the ground despite Frank still holding your lower half firmly in place beneath him as his mouth passionately focused on your clit. That familiar warm, tingling sensation began to race its way up from the base of your spine until you felt it heat your entire body. You felt ready to float off the ground if it wasn't for the fact that Frank’s hand was keeping you in place beneath him. As his lips once again sucked that sensitive nub into his mouth, a cry of pleasure flew from your lips and you came hard, falling over the edge of your climax. 

Frank quickly withdrew his fingers from inside of you, replacing his lips with them as they rubbed tenderly against your clit, working you through your orgasm. His mouth switched to focus on your soaked entrance, his tongue eagerly lapping up everything that spilled out of your cunt as your whole body slowly sunk into the ground. Frank didn't let up with his ministrations until he’d pulled you through your orgasm and you'd begun to gasp and whine from overstimulation.

Gradually your eyelids fluttered open again, spotting Frank on his knees between your own as he sat upright. He was smiling triumphantly up at you as his hands landed on both of your quivering, bare thighs, your slick apparent on his lips and chin in the moonlight. You sent him a blissed out smile in return, your body feeling limp on the ground as you tried to catch your breath.

“If this is what camping with you is like,” you began slowly, panting hard, “I've really been missing out.”

Mischief danced in his eyes as his hands released your thighs and grabbed onto the hem of his shirt. You watched silently as he pulled it up and over his head, tossing it carelessly to the side. Immediately your eyes raked over his muscled and bare torso in the dim light of the night. 

“Don't worry sweetheart,” he replied with a devious grin, “this trip isn't over yet. And I'm not quite done makin’ sure you enjoy it.”

Eyebrows raising high onto your forehead, your lips parted in surprise. Frank let out a deep, amused chuckle at the expression on your face as he gradually drew himself up over the top of you. Before his lips were back on yours, you briefly made a mental note that you needed to join Frank on camping trips more often.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle x you #frank castle #frank castle x fem!reader #the punisher

[skz317cb97]

Love Letters to Who

Hyunjin x Female reader

Word count: 4.9k

Synopsis: Your 21st birthday you were gifted a mysterious journal. If you thought you were shocked when you saw a reply to your first entry from someone, you just about shit when you saw words appearing on the page out of nowhere, right in front of your eyes! Who was owner of those words? Who was H.H?

A/N: 18+ ONLY! Here's our Hyunjinnie's! Only one more left! But don't fret! I've gotten a lot of really great requests while I've been working on this series and still plan to do a part 2 to Everything in it's Place so there is plenty more to come! Thank you everyone who has followed along! If you enjoy this part please give it a reblog, like, comment, jump in my an ask box, I love hearing from you guys! Thank you again! As always warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI! Cursing/strong language, mentions of controlling and toxic behavior/relationship, oral (m&f receiving), cum eating, unprotected piv sex (please use protection), coming inside. I'm pretty sure that's it. The soulmate series has been fairly tame smut wise I feel like but if I missed something, please let me know and I'll add it immediately!

It had been a long day but a great one. It was your twenty-first birthday and your family and friends had been over all day celebrating with you. Finger food, cake, presents, the whole nine yards. All of your friends were gone now, your dad had left and your mom stayed over a bit to help you clean up. Just before she left she walked past the table that all your presents had been on and stopped. 

“Oh hey! You missed one!” She grabbed the small gift and handed it to you. You looked for a tag with a name but there was none. You shrugged and ripped it open to find a beautiful leather-bound journal. In the corner there were small gold letters, your initials and H.H. You weren’t sure what that meant but it was a wonderful gift, you loved to journal. Your mom left and you got washed up, in pajamas and in bed. You scrolled around on your phone and made a post thanking everyone for coming and for your gifts. 

‘Oh and to whomever got me the journal, it had no name but thank you so much!’ Maybe whoever got it for you will comment. You put your phone on the charger and pulled out the new journal and a fresh pen. You opened it to the first page and wrote the date. 

‘Today was my twenty-first birthday. It was wonderful. My friends and family were here and I’m very thankful for all of my gifts. It was almost perfect. It would be nice to have someone to share my evening with. To curl up in bed, laugh and talk, make love, fall asleep holding each other. I guess for now, for me, it’s not meant to be. It just makes me a little sad.’ You signed your initials at the bottom of your entry, closed the journal and set it on your nightstand before laying down and going to sleep.  

The next day was back to being like any other. You woke up to your alarm, went for a jog, took a shower, had breakfast and went to work. You worked all day, over your time as usual, and then went home. You made something for dinner which either meant you put something small together or accidentally made a feast. It was hard cooking for one.

You watched a few episodes of a show you’d gotten invested in, then it was time to shower and go to bed to do it all again tomorrow. You crawled into bed and grabbed your new journal to write about any small triumphs or losses during your day. You opened it and you were about to flip to the second page when you noticed writing at the bottom of yesterday's entry that wasn’t yours. 

��Not sure who wrote the first entry. It’s strange that it was their twenty-first birthday today too. That evening does sound like a nice way to end your birthday though. I wouldn’t mind ending my birthday like that too. I’m sorry they had to be sad at all on their special day. I hope they find someone kind to fall in love with so they can have a birthday like that next year. In fact, I’m going to use my birthday wish for them and wish that very thing. Whoever you are, wherever you are. Happy Birthday.’ H.H. You were so fucking confused. Had someone broken into your apartment? Why would they take nothing and write in your journal?  You turned to the next page and started writing. 

‘I think someone broke into my apartment! Maybe one of my friends? Nothing is missing but someone wrote an entry in my new journal. It was nice but extremely weird. Like I just don’t know why anyone would do that. Everything else about today was totally normal other than that. Maybe I should get some security cameras just to be safe. I should mention it to mom and dad but I don’t want to worry them. I’ll look into cameras tomorrow. Now I feel like the bed will seem bigger and lonelier tonight while I worry about who was in here. Hopefully I’m not gutted in my sleep.’ Your initials signed the entry and you closed the book.

Tuesday was a copy paste day which meant it was exactly like your Monday. You had checked into some cameras, at least for the door and the living room. You were so busy the rest of the day you had forgotten about your journal until you were climbing into bed again. You grabbed it and immediately turned to the second page. Just to see. Just to laugh at yourself for thinking someone broke in just to write a cryptic entry in your new journal. Just to laugh... but you weren’t laughing. There at the bottom of the second page, under your entry from yesterday was the same handwriting and while beautiful you were officially freaked out. 

‘Gutted in your sleep?! Jesus Christ! That’s fucking terrifying! I think I have a theory that I plan on checking tonight. If I’m right, I might scream and burn this thing! We’ll see I suppose.’ H.H. You turned to the next page. You wrote the date. 

‘I don’t know who the hell keeps-’ You stopped writing when words that were not yours started scribbling across the page out of nowhere. You dropped your pen, slammed the book closed and threw it. 

“What the fuck!?” You rubbed your eyes and looked at the journal on the floor across your room. You didn’t just see that. It was a trick of the light or a long day. Yea, it was a long day and you were just seeing things. You were certain when you went and grabbed that book and opened it that it was going to be a page with a date at the top and half a sentence.

You slowly walked over, knelt down, and picked up the journal, then went and sat back down on your bed. You closed your eyes and opened it. You slowly opened them and you were in disbelief. There on the page, in the same writing from the two days before... 

‘Do you see this?’ You did, but what were you seeing? More words started appearing. 

‘If you are seeing this, please, write back.’ You picked up your pen. 

‘I see it.’ You waited and then words started appearing again. 

‘Holy shit! Okay so do you need like help crossing?’ You scrunched up your face confused by what they were asking. 

‘What do you mean? Crossing what? Like a bridge?’ 

‘How can I help settle your spirit? Is there a message from beyond that you would like me to pass along to a loved one?’ Oh for fucks sake. They thought you were a ghost. 

‘I am not a ghost!’ 

‘Oh no you didn’t remember that you died! Were you gutted in your sleep?! Oh god I’m so sorry!’ You shook your head and scribbled. 

‘No no no. I’m just not dead. Not a ghost.’ There was a long pause before the next words appeared on the page. 

‘Are you sure? On a scale of 1-10 how certain are you?’ You pressed your fingers into your eyes taking a deep breath. Be understanding. It was a super crazy situation. 

‘I’m sure. 1,000. I’m very much so alive. You said your birthday was the other day too. Did you get a journal?” 

‘Yeah. Did you send it? What the hell is going on?!’ Whoever was writing seemed like they were starting to freak out a bit. You tried to calm them down. 

‘No I didn’t send it. I’m not sure what’s going on. Let’s try and keep calm. My name is y/n, what’s yours?’ 

‘I’m Hyunjin. How are you so chill about this? This is the craziest thing that has ever happened to me!’ You weren’t really sure why you weren’t freaking out yourself. 

‘I don’t know how to explain it but it doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to be a scary or ominous thing. I don’t understand what’s happening or why but it kind of feels like we were meant to get these books. I don’t know I’m sure that sounds crazy.’ It definitely sounded crazy. You didn’t know this man at all why would you both get some magic book that allows you to write to each other? 

‘So what do we do?’ Why in the world was he asking you? You had no idea. 

‘I don’t know. I guess only one of us should use it. Since you used your birthday wish for me you take it.’ 

‘Well wait now. Wishing you well and me keeping some magic journal isn’t exactly a fair trade’ 

‘Really Hyunjin it’s okay. Besides it’s only a magic book if we both write in it. Enjoy and happy birthday.’ You signed your name, a small heart, then closed the book and put it away on your bookshelf. You grabbed another journal and made an entry in it about the magic journal and Hyunjin and then you went to bed.  

For the first few days after, you found yourself looking over at the bookshelf wondering if Hyunjin was using it, tempted to look inside, but you had told him he could use it and that would be invading his privacy, his innermost thoughts and you couldn’t do that. So you left it. About a month after your birthday a guy accidentally bumped into you coming out of the café, making you spill your coffee. 

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” You looked at the, luckily, iced coffee down the front of you and sighed. 

“It’s okay it happens.” You went to walk off and get clothes that were not saturated in bean water when he hurried to stop you. 

“Wait uh... I feel terrible really. Let me make it up to you!” You started shaking your head. 

“No really it’s not nec-” He put his hands together. 

“Please, let me do something... uh... let me take you to dinner?” You stopped surprised. You figured he’d ask to replace the coffee and you were prepared to say no again but he asked about dinner. 

“Dinner?” He nodded, smiling. 

“Yes! Please! Let me take you to dinner to make up for being such an absolute klutz.” Wow. He was really cute and he seemed nice. Hyunjin had used his birthday wish for you, maybe the universe was putting it into play. 

“Okay, dinner.” He smiled ear to ear and gave you his phone number so that you could make the arrangements, after you got out of your wet coffee-stained clothes that is. The cute klutz's name was Ian and the dinner to make up for exploding your coffee on you ended up being the first of many. Weeks, months went by and lots of other firsts came and went. First kiss, first time sleeping together, first Christmas as a couple.  

Things started out perfect and you were so happy. Then over a period of time, you started to see another side of Ian. It started with him getting irritable and he’d do little controlling things. They were always so subtle and the way he would suggest something questionable he always made it seem like it should be so reasonable.

You put up with a lot for quite a while but after five months of it, when Ian asked you to move in and you said no, that was the last straw. You’d been at dinner and he’d quietly accepted the no while in the restaurant but once dinner was over and you were in the car, he lost it. He was yelling as he drove recklessly through the streets, narrowly missing a few cars and running multiple red lights.

You were scared he would crash you into someone on purpose out of sheer anger. Somehow you made it to your apartment without wrecking. When he came to a screeching halt out front you immediately got out of the car and bent down looking in mad. 

“It’s over Ian. We’re done!” You slammed the car door shut and he started to get out of his car. 

“Wait... baby!” The babies were starting and you weren’t waiting. After that car ride and the things he said, you were done. You went inside your apartment and you heard him speed off, his tires chirping. His texts and calls started right after and you just turned your phone off. He’d give up eventually. You laid out on your bed and cried, angry with yourself for letting him fool you, angry for fooling yourself.  

Deep down you felt it. It wasn’t right, he wasn’t ever going to be the one no matter what you had tolerated. You knew you did what was best but you still felt the void it left too. For the first time in six months, you went over to your bookshelf that you kept the journal on and grabbed it.

You walked back over to your bed and sat down with your legs crossed and the book in your hands. You sat there looking at it for a good while. You just needed to pour your heart out and you could do that in any one of your journals but you wanted to do it in this one. You flipped to the first blank page you found and started writing. 

‘I didn’t read any of your entries I promise. I just had to...I don’t know what I thought. I guess I thought your wish had come true. I met a guy and I thought the wish really came true, but it ended up being a horrible mistake. I think about you all the time. I don’t know why when we only wrote each other the one time and I know this might be strange to say but I miss you.’ You signed your name and a heart and closed the journal putting it on your nightstand, then went to sleep.

The next morning you woke up and your eyes were immediately on the journal when they opened. You sat up and grabbed it but hesitated to open it. What if he didn’t write back? What if he was mad that you wrote in it again when you said you wouldn’t? What if he thought it was weird that you said you missed him? How can you miss a guy you don’t even know?

You took a deep breath and opened the book to the last page you had written on. There underneath your entry was Hyunjin’s beautiful handwriting and you could feel a weight lifting off your chest.  

‘He didn’t hurt you did he?! I’m so sorry it didn’t come true. If I’m being honest, I miss you too and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I don’t know why I can’t get you out of my head when I don’t even know you. Go to the page after our last conversation and start reading the entries.’ H.H. He wanted you to read his journal entries? You were confused. You went to the page he told you and started reading. 

‘It’s been a few days. I’ve opened the book here and there to see if maybe you had written something. I don’t know, I feel like if I'm not using it for its intended purpose then I shouldn’t use it and its purpose was for me to write you. I don’t know why. I hope you’re doing well wherever you are and I hope one day you open your book and see this. Until then I’ll write to you.’ You turned the page and there was the next entry.

Hyunjin telling you about his day, and then questions about things he wished he knew about you with space left beneath for your answers. He would tell you his answers as well, his likes and dislikes. You went through, day after day, it was all always written to you.

Poems he’d read, work he’d finished, random silly things about his days that usually made you laugh and then questions. You read every page, answered every question and by the time you got to where you had written again you felt like you had known Hyunjin your whole life. You looked at the last words Hyunjin had written on the page.  

‘I think we should meet.’ Your heart skipped a beat and you started to panic. Meet?! It seemed so sudden, so fast. You had only just ended things with Ian but something was drawing you and Hyunjin to each other and not just the journals. You decided there was no use fighting it. 

‘When? Where?’ Hyunjin told you to meet him Sunday at eleven at the café by the park. You would get coffee, go for a walk, and talk. 

‘How will I know it’s you?’ Hyunjin thought for a minute. 

‘I’ll wear my hair pulled back.’ Sunday was only a day away. You panicked most of Saturday and rifled through your whole closet deciding what to wear. You decided on nice but casual, you picked a wide necked oversized sweater and a tank top with some jeans and tennis shoes.

Sunday you were walking up to the café when you saw a guy sitting at an outdoor table reading a book. He was hands down the most beautiful person you’d ever laid eyes on. Two beauty marks adorned his face, one on his cheek, the other under an eye, he had lips that looked pillowy soft, and long blonde hair pulled back. There was no way that was Hyunjin, but what were the chances of two guys with long hair pulled back showing up at the café at the same time. You slowly walked up ready to make an ass out of yourself when you realized it wasn’t him. 

“Uh... Hyunjin?” The man looked up from his book and his eyes locked on you. His mouth was slightly opened and he didn’t say anything at first. You just stood there, you didn’t know if it was him or not. Finally the man shook his head and smiled at you. 

“Yes! Sorry! Yes, I'm Hyunjin. You must be y/n.” He stood and leaned in to hug you as you put out your hand, then you leaned in to hug him and he stuck his hand out. You both laughed and leaned in for a little hug then you joined him at the table he’d been sitting at. 

“What would you like? I’ll go order it for you.” You gave Hyunjin your order and he went inside to get your coffee. You pinched yourself as you sat there waiting to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The man that penned at least a hundred and fifty-three pages, written to you, was not only intelligent and kindhearted he was also insanely gorgeous.

It only took Hyunjin a couple minutes to get your coffee. When he came back he sat across from you and set your drink down. You had a little small talk as you sat there and you were nervous. You didn’t know why you were nervous, but you were.  

“Do you want to go on a walk in the park?” You weren’t sure if he was picking up on your energy but a walk sounded perfect. 

“I’d like that.” Hyunjin put his book in his messenger bag and hung it around himself. You both grabbed your coffees and took the path that led to the flower garden in the park. As you walked around you were able to calm down a little and it was easier to talk as you both admired the flowers.

You got quiet when, part of the way through, Hyunjin’s fingers wove through yours and he held your hand as you continued to walk along the path. After a minute he stopped and faced you. God he was beautiful and with the flowers and the perfect weather he looked ethereal. 

“y/n I want to say something but I don’t want to freak you out.” You nodded. 

“Okay, just so you know if you’re trying to not freak me out, saying that is not a great start.” Hyunjin laughed nervously. 

“I suppose not.” You grabbed his other hand and squeezed them both gently. 

“Go ahead Hyunjin, I’m just teasing. It’s okay.” He took a deep breath. 

“I... I think we might be soulmates.” You wanted to act shocked. You wanted it to be a startling hypothesis, but it wasn’t. In fact, as soon as he said it you felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner but not everyone has a soulmate. 

“Oh my god! Of course!” He breathed a sigh of relief hearing you agree. He was worried you might not believe him, that you might reject him. He also didn’t want you to think that just because you were soulmates you had to rush anything. There was still so much to learn about each other.

You both were so caught up in the moment you didn’t notice the grey clouds making their way in. Then suddenly the sky opened up and it started to pour down rain. Hyunjin gripped your hand tighter and ran for the closest building with an awning. You were both soaked laughing, you looked up at him and saw stray wet hairs stuck to his face. You pushed them back, your fingers tracing his skin and your eyes watched as his tongue darted across his pouty lips.  

You couldn’t take it anymore. You stood on your toes, wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him under that awning in the rain. Then Hyunjin wrapped his arms around you and kissed you back. It was like fireworks were going off. It was so different than your first kiss with Ian. That first kiss with Ian was when you knew it wasn’t right that he wasn’t the one, but your first kiss with Hyunjin? Felt like coming home. 

On your and Hyunjin’s twenty second birthday you spent your shared day with both your families and friends. When the day was over and everyone had left, you laid in bed together, laughing as Hyunjin dramatically recalled how he reacted to the entry you had written about hoping to not be gutted. You laid your head on his chest and as your laughter died down you could hear his heart thumping. Without a word you sat up and climbed on top of Hyunjin straddling his waist, then leaned over and kissed him. Your lips parted from his only enough to speak. 

“Happy birthday Hyunjinnie.” You kissed him again and he held your face as he deepened it. He pulled away breathless. 

“Happy birthday baby.” He kissed you again and started running his hands down your body. They traveled under your night shirt and he gripped your soft breasts as his tongue explored your mouth. You sat up quickly pulling the shirt off over your head and then leaned back down and claimed Hyunjin’s lips again.

You started pulling his shirt up and your lips left his long enough to pull it off. You were grinding your hips into Hyunjin’s, hands gripping each other, teeth biting, tongues tasting. Hyunjin sat up wrapping his arms around you and then suddenly you were on your back under him. He pulled down his sweatpants and kicked them off as he reached into your panties and started teasing your clit with two fingers. 

“So wet for me already?” You pushed at him. 

“Hyunjinahh! Don’t tease!” He smiled before kissing down your neck and shoulder, the two fingers still gently rubbing your arousal over the sensitive nerves. 

“No teasing tonight baby. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He kissed down your chest and started sucking on your breasts. You wove your fingers through his hair as he kissed and sucked at your nipples. You moaned when the two fingers he had been rubbing you with slid inside you.

Hyunjin made his way down your body as he fingered you and when his face hovered over your clothed core you thought you might lose your mind at the sight of him. He pulled your panties to the side and when he started to eat you out you gripped his hair again, tighter. 

“Jinnie! God yes! Right there!” Hyunjin pumped his fingers into you and licked your clit before kissing it. 

“Right there jagiya?” He started sucking on your clit and you aggressively shook your head. 

“YES! FUCK YES!” Hyunjin took his time. He’d mapped your body out countless times now and he knew how to drive you to the brink of madness from pleasure alone and he was going to do just that. His fingers worked inside you brushing against your g spot as he continued to lick and suck on your clit you could feel the building climax inside you. 

“Please... please... please...” You plead with Hyunjin needing the release you were desperately close to. His pillowy soft lips latched around your clit again and when he hummed against you, you went plummeting into your orgasm. 

“Hyu-Hyun-Hyunjinnie! Oh my god! Yesyesyes!” Your hips tried to grind up against his face but his strong hands held you down as he continued to guide you through your climax. He gently took long slow licks up your glistening cunt as you started twitching from the overstimulation.

He gave your pussy one last soft kiss and then climbed back up towards your face, your lips. His pressed against yours, so plush, as the fog in your head started to lift. You started sitting up prompting Hyunjin to as well, although he wouldn’t stop kissing you. He loved the way you tasted. Your skin, your lips, your cunt, he could never get enough.

You guided him to sit back against the headboard, his legs spread. Your lips only left his to leave a wet trail of kisses down Hyunjin’s neck and chest. His fingers threaded through your hair as you made your way down his body. When your lips hovered over his throbbing cock you looked up at him, licking your lips. He couldn’t help the shuddering breath he took at the sight of you between his legs. He gently traced his fingers down your face, biting his lip. 

“Please baby... suck on it.” You nodded smiling and put the tip in your mouth, running your tongue around it and sucking like Hyunjin had asked of you. He moaned and pulled your hair up into a ponytail with his hands so he could see as you started to work your way further down his shaft. When you gagged on him, you pulled off stroking him, looking into his eyes, watching them glint from the pleasure you were giving him. 

“I want you to cum in my mouth Jinnie.” His jaw dropped surprised to hear you say that. He’d never done that before. 

“I... are you sure?” You licked your lips looking at him and nodded. Hyunjin nodded back and you started sucking his dick again. You bobbed up and down, using your spit to stroke what you couldn’t fit. His tip kept pressing against the back of your throat and Hyunjin thought he would lose his mind it felt so good. His breath came faster as his stomach sucked in and out. 

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” You hummed giving your permission again to cum in your mouth and the vibrations from your lips pushed him over the edge. He whimpered and his body stiffened, as well as his grip on your hair as he started to spill into your mouth. 

“Oh god! Oh fuck! Jagiya mmmm!” His head thumped back against the headboard as you drank down every drop of his cum. You licked the tip one last time and looked up at his fucked-out face, head tilted back. He took another deep breath and looked down at you again.

When he saw that sweet face of yours, his heart melted. He was yours. Always. He loved you so much. He pulled you to sit in his lap and he held your face as he kissed you. You sat there like that for who knew how long. Arms wrapped around each other, slowly, softly kissing.

After making out a while, you slid your panties off, leaned forward and gripped Hyunjin’s cock, pushing it inside you. You both held on to the other, moaning as he filled you. You slowly started working your hips against his as you looked into each other’s eyes. It was so intimate, so sensual. 

“I love you Hyunjin.” He kissed you and every time he kissed you it felt just like the first, fireworks. He pressed his forehead to yours as you continued riding him. 

“I love you too y/n, I love you so much...” He held you as your bodies pressed and rubbed together, sweaty, hot. You made love like that for what felt like forever, for what felt like would never be long enough. You both were holding the others face, foreheads pressed together, eyes locked on their love, their forever, as you came together.

Tears streaked your face as your trembled through your climax, Hyunjin’s warm cum filling you. He wiped your tears and hugged you closely. You rested your head on his shoulder as Hyunjin softened inside you, both of you basking in the warmth of the other. When heartbeats and breathing returned to normal you curled up together in bed. Hyunjin’s birthday wish for you had come true after all, in ways he never had imagined. 

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @jisuperboard @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @minnysproutgriffinteddy @svintsandghosts @the-sweetest-rose @alice630 @3rachasninja @m0ri-apeuda @eastleighsblog @linoification @mlink64 @smally97 @fun-fanfics @chansducky10 @starfire21 @cessixja @siewoon @berryberrytan @binnies-minsung-fanclub @lethallyprotected

#stray kids smut #skz smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #skz317cb97 #cal 🖤 #skz317cb97 soulmate au series

[marzipanandminutiae]

Madame Marzi I must defer to ur wisdom

Recently you rb’d a painting with some younger ladies and in the tags talked a bit about short hair in Victorian Times

Do you have any reference for how shorter hair was styled at the time? I’ve seen plenty of paintings and such with VERY short hair (post illness or perhaps childbirth) where all you can really do is smooth it back, but what about that awkward, past the shoulders sort of stage where it’s too long to just brush back but too short to do much to? Surely they had some styling guides..?

(Also, a side question— how old would one be before going from shorter skirts to adult/full length ones?)

The two little girls in the garden (probably preteens-young teens)? Yes, I did!

It's hard to find images of women with in-between hair lengths, and I'm not sure why. Possibly because they'd find ways to put it up with false hair, whereas hair too short to put up is more obvious in photos. This could also have to do with the type of woman who has pixie- or bob-length hair voluntarily vs. mid-length: the latter is more likely to be attempting a grow-out, and thus to try her darndest to do The Culturally Accepted Long Hair StylesTM where a lady who chose a much shorter look wouldn't care. If that makes sense? Because, indeed, some of the women with very short hair were not ill or postpartum: ladies could, and did, choose to eschew long locks back then. It wasn't very common, but it happened.

(Nicole Rudolph has an excellent video about localized short hair trends for ladies during the Victorian era.)

You see a lot of these bob-type looks in photographs where the hair is center-parted and either naturally curly or curled on purpose, around the mid-19th century:

(1850s or 60s)

(Author, feminist, and abolitionist Anna Elizabeth Dickinson- no relation to Emily that I know of, though Anna was also a queer female writer around the same era -c. 1860s. She wore her hair short all her life, so it was voluntary in this case.)

(Also 1860s.)

Pre-Raphaelite muse Fanny Eaton frequently appears to have chin-to-shoulder length hair, though given that she was Black with a corresponding hair texture, it's hard to tell what the actual length is- it may be long and looped up in the 1850s-60s styles popular when she was most commonly painted (most free Black women in England and the US wore styles also popular with white women, to the best of their abilities given that fashion plates assumed European-textured hair as the "norm"):

(Fanny Eaton, 1861. Also worth noting that we have no images of what her hair looked like when she wasn't posing for fantastical paintings.)

I've never actually seen an image of a Victorian woman with mid-length hair outside the context of theatrical or artistic images from the end of the century, now I think of it. Huh. It's a mystery, I suppose!

As for skirts, while in earlier periods children had basically worn miniature adult clothing, it became fashionable around the 1830s-40s to dress girls in short skirts and boys in short pants. The usual rule was knee-length until around age 10, then mid-calf-length until somewhere between 16 and 18 when skirts would be "let down" and the girl would start wearing her hair up, becoming a young adult in the eyes of society. (Contrary to popular belief, this had nothing to do with marriage- while you were theoretically eligible for it when you started dressing as an adult, girls/women younger than 20 were still often considered a bit too immature to marry. It wasn't forbidden, but many people thought it unwise. And yes, unmarried young women did still wear their hair up and their skirts long.)

...unless she preferred her hair short, which as you can see, was an option!

#ask #anon #victorian #hairstyles #fashion history #dress history #short hair

[draco-dormiens]

THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Twenty Two

draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series

warnings: strong language, angst, alcohol use (characters are 18+)

wc: 3375

masterlist

taglist is now closed - i’ve officially run out of tags! thank you all

One Hell of a Dinner Party

"So, Draco, your mother tells us you've taken a fancy to Ministry work," Mr Greengrass asks the young Malfoy heir from across the long dark wood table, between them a feast for at least a hundred people laid out by house elves scuttering to and fro, "fine place, the Ministry. Well, under the correct management, that is."

The man laughs, as Lucius joins purely out of politeness. Draco, too, manages a small laugh, as he pushes the food around his plate.

"Well, I've been thinking about that, yes," he answers, Astoria gazing at him from across the way, Daphne on her umpteenth glass of wine, "but I also like medicine, sir, so maybe a job at St. Mungo's."

"St. Mungo's, you say?" the older gentlemen looks over at this wife, Mrs Greengrass, who cuts her food into pea size pieces, and gives her an rather unreadable look, "very noble of you son, to want to help others, but what about the pay, and the hours? Not a very suitable job for a family man, wouldn't you agree, Lucius?"

"Ah, well, we have always told Draco he may choose whatever profession he would like," Lucius goes on to explain, dabbing the corners of his mouth with his napkin, "I'm sure, once he has climbed up the ranks, he will have more flexibility with the job."

Mr Greengrass scoffs amusingly.

"And how long would that take, Lucius? Narcissa, surely you would prefer Draco to choose a much more stable profession? There are plenty of places in accounting at the Ministry, I can always put a good word in for your boy." said Mr Greengrass.

Draco clenches his fist under the table. If it wasn't for his mother breathing down his neck, he would've given old Greengrass a piece of his mind. Astoria, like a deer in the headlights, looks between the adults with a nervous disposition.

"The offer is very much appreciated, isn't it, dear?" Narcissa then speaks up, looking over at Draco with a desperate sort of look in her eyes. Draco, already fed up and even more so now Mr Greengrass had voiced his opinion, takes a deep breath and forces a smile onto his face.

"Tell me, Mr Greengrass," Draco said in the most sarcastic tone he could muster, Daphne shaking her head at him in the corner of his eye in an attempt to stop whatever he was thinking about saying, "you've been at the Ministry for some time now. How do you find sleeping at night?"

"Right, how about some dessert?" Narcissa says very loudly, chair legs scraping along the dining room floor as she begins gathering plates and passing them to the tiny house elf, "I made the most delicious looking pavlova. Mrs Greengrass, care for some? Tea or coffee, anyone?"

Her voice seemed to be getting higher in pitch as she spoke, the tension now thick and rather unpleasant. Within a few minutes, the table was cleared and in floated several mouth-watering desserts. Along with Narcissa's pavlova, there was freshly baked strawberry cheesecake, double chocolate fudge cake and boats of pouring cream and custard. As the dessert settled on the tables service, talk of school began, and Draco's mind started to drift far away from the conversation around him.

"We are so proud of Astoria," Mrs Greengrass boasts, helping herself to the thinnest slice of cheesecake the world has ever seen, "we have full faith she will come out with top marks. Such a clever and interesting young woman."

Daphne snorts quietly as she indulges in chocolate cake, Draco meeting her eyes with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Astoria gives her sister a stern look. Their mother then changes the subject to Draco's school days, much to his dismay.

"Astoria tells us that you're rather sporty, Draco," Mrs Greengrass then asks, picking at her cheesecake, "she says you've taken up Quidditch this year?"

"He's always played Quidditch, Ma," Daphne rolls her eyes, "can't you remember?"

"The best seeker Slytherin has seen in years," Astoria speaks loudly over her sister, "Madam Hooch even says so. Thanks to him Slytherin have done extremely well this year."

"Isn't that wonderful, dear?" Mrs Greengrass says to Mr Greengrass, who hums in agreement as his mouth is full of pavlova, "and have you always liked playing Quidditch, dear?"

Draco clears his throat.

"I had a break in sixth year," he explains, all eyes now on him, "but I recently got back into it," he pauses for a moment, glancing at the six people around the table, "a good friend of mine helped me regain my passion for it."

Astoria choked a little on her dessert, before gulping down a glass of water.

"It's always nice to have good friends around you," Mrs Greengrass smiles, "does your friend also play Quidditch? Is he into sport?"

"She doesn't play, no," Draco smiles, the thought of you making his evening feel a little lighter. Daphne excuses herself to use the restroom, sensing the rise in tension as her mother's eyes widen to the size of the dessert plates.

"She?" Mrs Greengrass repeats in a sort of strained voice.

"Draco, why don't you tell Mr and Mrs Greengrass about your potions classes this year? You've thoroughly enjoyed them, haven't you?" Narcissa nudges Draco's leg under the table harshly, glaring at him over her cheesecake and cream.

"Do you have many friends, Draco?" Mrs Greengrass asks, shrugging off Narcissa, her face souring even though she was trying her best to keep a smile on her face. Mr Greengrass, oblivious to the current topic, was talking Lucius' ear off about his recent investment at the Ministry.

Draco grits his teeth, remembers what he's enduring this for, and lays down his fork.

"No, ma'am," he digs his nails into his knee to ease some of the frustration, Astoria staring at him with such intensity he almost feels his skin burning, "I'm afraid I don't mix all that well."

"He's being modest," Astoria laughs awkwardly, "Draco has many friends. Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini; you remember them, Mummy?"

She hums, and takes a miniscule bite of cheesecake.

Once dessert was over, the plates were cleared and in came the pots of tea and coffee, floating on silver trays with small, sugared biscuits on each coaster. A teacup was given to each of them, followed by their choice with cream or milk. Small talk passed the time, as Draco contemplated his entire existence in his cup of tea. In his pocket sits the little velvet box, a rock nestled in a silver band inside, waiting to be placed on Astoria's long, pale finger. He catches her line of vision when he looks up, and she smiles over her cup. He smiles back, and the guilt of his unrequited feelings starts to make him feel nauseous.

As soon as tea and coffee was finished, Narcissa leads the guests back to the drawing room, where fresh bottles of wine and glasses had been placed on a golden tray in the centre of the coffee table. The fire was smoldering, as even in the summer, the large rooms of Malfoy Manor rarely heat up enough. Conversation starts once more, and the time for Draco's proposal creeps ever closer. He could feel his parents eyes on him every second, any time he refilled Astoria's glass with sparkling grape presse and her fingers brushed his, even when he shuffled slightly in his seat. The anticipation was clearly killing them. Even Mrs Greengrass jolted when he moved. It seemed everyone was eager, except for him. Daphne became topic of conversation for a while, Narcissa asking her twenty questions from her job search to her love life.

"I just love wizarding fashion, Mrs Malfoy," Daphne explains, playing with the ends of her golden, silky hair. Daphne was always beautiful, but Blaise had long made his interests known for the eldest Greengrass daughter, "Madam Malkin has been so kind as to let me help her around the shop, only to get some experience. I want to be a steam stress eventually, and design my own tasteful gowns for young witches."

"And what about Pansy?" Draco hears his mother ask, and his heart drops to his feet upon remembering what Pansy had witnessed, "do you still see one another? I have invited the family over to the manor a few times. Lovely girl, isn't she, Draco?"

"Uh, yeah," Draco nods, trying to sound genuine, "she was always... around, right, Daph?"

Daphne stifles a laugh.

"Indeed she was," Daphne agrees, and then smirks devilishly, "I think the reason for that was her... what shall we call it... interest, in you, Dray."

"Interest. Sure." Draco sips on his wine as Daphne turns her head to chuckle. It would seem Pansy knew better than to blab about her findings that night; she may be a lot of things, Pansy Parkinson, but being disloyal to Draco didn't seem to be one of them. She knew, just as well as he did, that Draco knew her all too well. There were a fair few things he was sure her parents would be interested to find out about their precious Pansy.

"Would anyone care for a drink in the garden?" Narcissa then asks, giving Draco a knowing look, "Draco, why don't you take Astoria to see my flower beds and wait for us to join you?"

This was the moment he'd been dreading. In his mother's letter, she strictly said to be prepared for when she offers the Greengrasses a drink in the garden. That was the perfect time, she said, to get down on one knee. As Astoria's parents walk out into the courtyard, surrounded by Narcissa's immaculate flower beds, Draco would be asking for their daughter's hand in marriage. How romantic, his mother had written, under the summer moon. It will be spectacular.

How scripted, more like, is what Draco thought.

A sudden cold sweat dripped down Draco's back. He grips the little box in his pocket, and for a long moment, doesn't respond to what his mother was asking of him. He didn't realise how long he'd been standing there, slack-jawed, until Narcissa cleared her throat loudly and gave him a look only a mother could.

"Oh, uh, yes, I can do that," he then rushes out, and holds out a clammy hand for Astoria to take, "please, let me lead the way."

She takes his hand without haste. Draco, silently, takes the girl out of the drawing room and through the house, all the while gripping the box in his pocket. Astoria, not sure what to make of Draco's strange behaviour, remains just as quiet, her heels clicking along the tiled floors and echoing in the stale air. As they neared the glass doors leading to the courtyard, they pass the staircase leading up to the room which Draco took you to. The one with the big window that seems to look out at the entire universe. He stops, dead in his tracks, and stares at the doorway.

"I was just thinking how big the world is, you know?" you had said, and he remembers looking across at you and thinking how nice you looked. How pretty you were, and how ignorant he was for never noticing that, "like, all those little specs in the sky are something, and we're just here. Looking up at them. A small piece in a big puzzle."

He recalls thinking that your mind must be a rather interesting place, to come out with something as deep as that. But then you asked him, perhaps the most complicated question he'd ever heard, and if he thinks about it, if you were to ask him now, his answer would be completely different.

"Have you ever loved anyone?"

He remembers, his answer was no. And he was quite confident in that answer, but now...

Now he had tasted what it felt like to crave someone, to want their presence even in the most mundane moments. When he's alone in bed at night. When he's reading in silence. When he's needing a comforting word or someone to lean on.

"Draco?" Astoria's voice sounds distant, "are you alright?"

A tidal wave of memories came rushing back to him. Christmas. Watching the stars, playing chess in the Astronomy tower. Burning potions. Arguing. The moment you threw that silly little drawing into the fire. All those nights you spent listening to him ramble on about constellations. The taste of your lips and the feeling of your hand in his. How, no matter how much he tries, he simply cannot be without you. A piece of him was forever missing.

"Draco," Astoria shakes him a little, worry plastered all over her face when he finally snaps out of it and faces her, "what's wrong? You went rigid and pale. Are you feeling well?"

"I, uh..." he begins, but the words get stuck, and suddenly the long corridor is suffocating, the air is thin and his suit is uncomfortable, "need some air."

He rushes off without her, loosening his tie and running a hand through his neat hair. Astoria hurries after him, calling for him to slow down, to tell her what was wrong. As he approaches the courtyard doors, he pushes them open with so much force that the glass rattles in the panes. The cooler night air hits him like a bludger to the head, and for the first time in an extremely long time, one thing was so strong and clear in his mind that everything else was getting lost within it, and his strength was returning to his spent and beaten soul.

"I can't do this," he says, as Astoria comes to a halt behind him, panting slightly, "I... can't do this. I see it now. All this time I've... What the fuck am I doing?"

Astoria doesn't say anything, instead, she merely comes to stand beside him. For a long moment, they just stand in silence.

"Draco," Astoria then breaks it, and Draco's watery eyes meet hers, "we both know what is expected of us tonight. Right now, as we stand here, they are waiting for the right time to witness our engagement. Even Daphne sussed it."

"Astoria," Draco's quiet voice says, "I can't-"

"Do you believe in soul mates, Draco?" Astoria continues, but Draco can't seem to find an answer. The pretty brunette continues anyway, "because I do. I believe it's not our hearts that yearn for another, but our souls. I like to think, that somewhere out there, a soul wanders this earth looking for its other half... it's soul mate."

She then turns to face him fully, a gust of wind ruffling her long brown locks. A smile graces her features, and she gently places her hand on his face.

"I want you to know, whatever you chose to do tonight, I understand," she whispers to him, "because the other half of my soul is still out there... but you, Draco, you have found yours."

"What are you saying, 'Storia?" Draco mutters, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, "you've always been so adamant that this is what needs to happen. Why the sudden change of heart?"

She shrugs.

"It's true, that I'd be happy to marry you, Draco," she admits freely, "but seeing you tonight, how stressed you've been, how unsettled throughout dinner. Why should someone make you feel that way? No matter what way you look at it, you are unhappy. We would marry, and you would still be unhappy. You'd learn to live with it, because that's the kind of man you are. Monogamous and faithful," she retracts her hand and looks out over the garden, "when you stopped back there, you were thinking of her, weren't you?"

"I feel so terrible," he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut, "why is this happening?"

"I want you to understand that I will never think ill of you, Draco," Astoria reassures him, "I don't think I ever could. If you walk away now, then I will not stop you. If you chose to stay and marry me, then I can only ask that you learn to live with your decision, and we make the best out of this situation. You have a choice. I never should have made you think otherwise. It was wrong of me."

A choice. Draco has never been presented with one of those before. He takes a deep, shaky breath and then remembers Grangers words. He remembers the dinner at Weasleys, the chance that Granger had taken the liberty to offer him, and as if a fire was lit from under him, courage and warmth spread throughout his entire body.

"Astoria," he says firm and serious, turning his entire body to face her fully, and takes her hands in his, "I want you to know that I have always and will always wish you happiness. You will make someone very happy one day, I'm absolutely certain of it, but mostly," he presses a quick kiss to her hand, "I thank you, for giving me something no one ever has before."

"What's that?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

"A choice," he whispers, and she smiles a teary smile.

"Go to your soul mate, Draco," she tells him, "and don't look back, you understand?"

He pulls her into his embrace, squeezes her as if his life depends on it, and backs away before breaking into a sprint across the garden. If he was to make it, he at least had to apparate to Weasleys before the night was over. But first, he had to get as far away from the manor as he could. Behind him, he could hear the commotion, and Mr Greengrasses furious voice bellowing.

"What do you mean he's gone?" the man shouts, Astoria's calmer voice trying to explain the situation best she could. Draco hid behind a large oak tree, far enough away to apparate safely. As he catches his breath, he hears Mrs Greengrass uncontrollably sobbing and wailing into the night like a hurt animal.

"Stood up! Our precious Astoria! You should be ashamed Narcissa, ashamed I tell you!"

"It's not like that!" Astoria's voice yelled, causing the ruckus to seize, "this is a mutual decision, mother."

"Our son would never do this without reason, Mrs Greengrass, please be assured," Narcissa tries to quell the situation, "there has to be a perfectly good explanation."

"He's in love with someone else," Daphne puts simply, and gasps from all around are heard throughout the night, "he has to be. Silly boy thinks he's hiding it well. Couldn't be more obvious if he said it out right."

"With who, exactly?" Narcissa asks frantically, "not once has he mentioned..." she trails off, remembering a slice of conversation between them, a small detail she should have paid much more mind to, when he asked "Would you and father resent me?"

"Narcissa!" Mr Greengrass says abruptly, "explain this mess or so help me-"

"If you speak to my wife in that tone again, Mr Greengrass, I think you may need to leave." Lucius says coolly, coming to stand before the man, who was much smaller in comparison.

"No need to worry, Lucius, as we are very much leaving," Mr Greengrass flares his nostrils, "girls, get your coats. Never again are we stepping foot in this house."

Mrs Greengrass, still sobbing and wailing, follows her husband back through the house. Daphne politely thanks Narcissa and Lucius with a sympathetic smile. As Astoria passes, she thinks twice about saying something, and then double backs on herself.

"Mr and Mrs Malfoy," she calls back, and they both turn to face her, "Draco may not want me to intervene, but I must say this," She pauses, looking back as her father calls for her, "he has tried, for many months now, to gather the courage to marry how you wish. He has battled with his true feelings and the fear of disappointing you. Even I, and I realise now I had no place, tried to convince him that he must follow this path, and not the one he chooses for himself," another furious call from Mr Greengrass and Astoria begins backing away towards the glass doors, "please, if there's one thing I can ask of you, it's that you hear him out. Please."

"ASTORIA, IF YOU DON'T GET HERE RIGHT NOW-"

"Please, listen to him," are her final words as shes rushing back through the doors and out of sight, leaving Narcissa and Lucius in a state of utter confusion.

And just over the way, behind the large oak tree, Draco successfully apparates to the Weasley's home.

disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story

tags:

@lovesanimals0000 @cappgyuccino @lightning1ce @onlygetaway @honeyyypeach @namelesslosers @ghostyv @mikadorbs @redactedhimbo @morganadpl @scarecrowscaresthomas @camille-1019 @valkyrie418 @animeloverfreak310 @budugu @marplest @torresbarnes @bunny24sstuff @champagneesupernova @serafilms @siriusly-parker-main @lovely-maryj @i-bitch-you-bitch @astablacksword @sun-fiower-seed @tinafuentes @venusjustleft @omgitstatertot @aangsupremacy @ilovezy @leclerc16s @aslanvez @talesofadragon @3vasaur @the-skys-musical-echo @yeolsbubbles @idk-dolans @xx-kiraa-xx @sunbruized @vinkiesz @snickersmee @fandomrulesall-blog @astheraa @idkatee @marsanhwa @vintageoldfashion @63sucker @j-n-i-c-o-l-e @anarchistsons @smallsweetvanillabean @newbooksmell777 @tangomangroves @neoteezrenyoung @l0v3lies @delusionally-loveless-by-choice @higanbanagirl @ace152435 @arcanebabe @slythermuf @hea-vin @zucchinimalfoy @carolineesnell

#draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco x female reader #draco x ravenclaw!reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco imagine #draco angst #draco fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hpff

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Dangers of Hope Epilogue

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: None.

Word Count: 5,849

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: So this is it, the epilogue, the end. I'm so sad to say goodbye to this series. I've really loved writing it, even if it kicked my ass a couple of times. I know I've said this already, but it definitely bears repeating - I'm so unbelievably grateful for the love and support you've all shown this series. Thanks so much - and I hope you enjoy this little peak into Dean and Y/N's lives a decade later. This ended up about twice as long as I'd planned. Lol! Enjoy! ❤️

Main Master List || Series Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Spring, 10 Years Later

The rumbling engine of the Impala was silenced as Dean pulled into the garage and parked Baby in her spot. The camp had eight cars now, so they'd had to expand the garage two summers before. The cars got shuffled around all the time, but Baby always kept her spot on the end. Everyone knew it was her spot.

The late afternoon sun shone in through the garage windows as Dean removed the keys from the ignition and pushed them back into his black, denim jacket pocket.

Sam was sitting beside him and shot him a questioning look when Dean didn't immediately jump out. “Dean?” 

Dean nodded and then looked over at his little brother. “Do you think I did the right thing?”

Sam sighed. He'd already answered this question from his brother, in various forms, three or four times. 

The Deerling Survivors Camp, a small camp located almost seventy miles away, had sent a message to Dean a week earlier, requesting a face-to-face meeting. Dean had asked Sam to come along and they'd stayed overnight at the fledgling camp. The pseudo-leader there, just a young kid who’d been thrust into the role, had asked them to let Deerling join Camp Chitaqua, and after seeing the shape of the camp, Dean had agreed on the spot.

Years earlier the four smaller camps surrounding Chitaqua had joined them, expanding the camp by miles and miles and raising the population by more than two hundred people. It had been a big decision, and Dean had consulted with the council for a couple days before agreeing to the expansion. 

It was a very good decision in the end, since they now had enough land to plant six, four acre farm plots. They made sure to rotate crops, leaving one field fallow every season and using it for grazing pasture. But all that fertile land meant that the campers all had plenty of fresh vegetables. Their expanded size also allowed them to enlarge their barn, so they could now house and care for four cows and a bull, two horses, dozens of chickens, a rooster, two pigs, and eight sheep. 

They'd bartered and traded with other camps for most of their animals or found them wandering around alone and unclaimed. But they bought their sheep from a farmer living in what used to be Iowa. A lot of farmers had started over there, scratching out a new life from the soil, now that the world had started turning once again.

Seven years ago they'd finally succeeded in producing a vaccine. It had taken a lot of hard work. For three years, every single person that worked on it did so with nothing more than a promise of a better tomorrow. 

It had taken another two plus years to get the word and the vaccine out to people, but now most of the population was vaccinated. The vaccine had also been carried overseas. They couldn't be sure how things were going across the pond because communication was still very limited. But they'd heard rumors that it was going well. 

Some infrastructure was up and running again; they had electricity in some places, and some cities had running water again. There were even some places that had phone lines connected - in and around the bigger cities where people were beginning to congregate.

Things seemed to be progressing quickly out west in the former California, where they'd reportedly started broadcasting some form of Television again. Not very many people had TVs anymore to watch, but it seemed comforting to people just to know something resembling their former lives was returning. 

Not everything was perfect, of course. There was no centralized government, or structured, widespread laws. Most areas had variations of camps like Chitaqua with leaders in charge, or occasionally small, internally elected governments that ran the camp. Lawlessness still existed in a lot of places, but it was being beaten further back every day as groups banded together. 

There were also still some areas that were uninhabitable because massive groups of Croats still roamed there. The researchers that had created the vaccine were working on a cure for those who’d already been infected, but thus far they’d proved unsuccessful. Croat attacks still happened sometimes, but the vaccine meant that people just had to deal with the bite itself, making sure it was healing properly - something that was becoming easier as medical stations were springing up in and around larger populations as well, as doctors went back to healing people as they’d been trained to do.

Chitaqua had a physician, Dr. Turner, who lived in the camp. The Medical Tent was no more and instead the doctor’s office and their cache of medical supplies were now housed in a big log structure that had been tiled inside to keep it as clean and sanitary as possible. Patrick was happy to be rid of guard duties these days, working alongside Dr. Turner to watch over the health and well-being of the campers.

There weren’t many tents left nowadays either. They had a bunch stored away in case the camp ended up with a big influx of new campers and temporary housing was needed. But most people lived in log cabins of varying sizes, dotted over the two and a half square miles of the camp. There were well over five hundred people in the camp now, since amalgamating the four other camps. They also had a reputation for being a prosperous, strong community, so people tended to migrate there as well - which continued to add to their numbers.

Now, after the meeting with the Deerling camp, they’d be adding another ninety-six people to their ranks, inflating their population to nearly seven hundred people. Dean was worried about the fact that he’d made the decision to absorb the smaller camp without consulting the council this time. 

The council was a group made up of eight other people besides Dean. Sam and Y/N were on it, as well as Brandy, Risa, Dr. Turner, and three other campers who were there representing the hunters, the farmers and the builders.

Day-to day decisions were still handled by Dean, but he relied on the council for other bigger decisions - taking their thoughts, ideas and opinions into account before he ultimately made a decision. Agreeing to take in another flock of people and develop another thirty acres of land was definitely one of those big decisions he’d normally take to the council, which was why, Sam knew, Dean had been second guessing his unilateral decision to say yes to Deerling’s request.

Sam shook his head at his brother as he answered Dean’s worry again. “Dean, you acted out of generosity, the council will understand. I can vouch for the fact that those campers need a lot of help very quickly. Those kids were starving, you could see that.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I know, but I just brought the camp more strain on resources with no benefits.”

Sam shrugged. “Well, there’s the land.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, unfarmable land that’s separated from us by almost eighty miles. And Brisbane camp sits between us and Deerling, and they already think we’re trying to take them over. Joining with a group on the other side of them is gonna make them even more suspicious and possibly turn them unfriendly.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I should have consulted the council.”

“Dean, there’s no way the council would have opted to just let a bunch of kids and sick people die. They’re definitely going to agree with your decision, and this way you’ve simply ensured that we can get food and medicine out to them by tomorrow instead of making them wait days for it. Trust me, you made the right decision.”

Dean grunted his response, still unsure. 

Sam slapped the back of his hand against Dean’s shoulder. “Now, I’m gonna go talk with the Doc about getting supplies together and coming out there with me tomorrow. Will you talk with Brandy later about food?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah.” A smile finally lit his face. “And then I’m goin’ home.”

Sam smiled and opened his door to climb out of the Impala. “Good plan. Give Y/N and the kids a kiss for me.”

Dean climbed out too and slammed his door behind him. He called Sam back as his brother began to walk away. 

“We should also figure out a time and day to have a sit down with the new leader from Brisbane, talk with her about our intentions regarding Deerling. She’s tough, but she seems more approachable and level-headed than their last leader. Maybe we can convince her we’re not looking to take anything over.” 

Sam nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

Dean frowned. “What’s her name again?”

“Eileen Leahy.” 

Dean noticed his brother’s cheeks turn pink and he immediately turned back into an annoying big brother, his grin wide. 

“Right, right, you met with her alone last time. She’s cute, huh? Something we should know? Maybe you should invite her over to our place for dinner next week. We can have our little sit down conversation then. What do you think?”

Sam had already turned and started walking away. “You’re an idiot!” He called back over his shoulder. But Dean made a mental note to tell Y/N all about it later. 

With Y/N firmly in mind he started out across the camp. Their cabin was situated on top of a low hill in the Southwest section of the camp, not all that far from where their old red tent used to sit.

They’d built their cabin when they came back to Chitaqua eight years ago after helping to set up the research facility. The vaccine was still a year away, but they’d done all they could do and they were ecstatic that after two years of traveling back and forth from camp, gathering doctors, researchers and searching for other psychic kids, (they’d only found two others) and after Y/N had given gallons of her blood to science, they could finally come home for good. 

Not long after returning home, Y/N realized she was pregnant and Dean became obsessed with building them a beautiful home. It was around that time that the camps had all joined together and building homes for everyone became a priority of the camp. 

The builders grew in numbers as they took on apprentices and taught them the trade so that more people in the camp could join in the work. It took almost four years of constant building, but eventually all five hundred plus campers had permanent homes.

Gotta pull the tents out for the Deerling folks, Dean thought as he walked, his mind immediately occupied with figuring out the logistics of where the new campers could stay, and how they could join in the life of the camp, once they were all healthy.

He stopped by Food Storage and spoke with Brandy as Sam had requested. And just as his brother had suspected, when he explained the situation, Brandy was one council member who was very glad he’d made the decision he had. He felt more sure now that the others would feel the same.

As Dean wound his way through camp he got stopped quite a few times, people wanting to talk with him about one concern or another. He generally pointed them in the direction of the person or group in the camp that could help them. But he also got stopped by friends wanting to say hi and talk for a moment or two.

He was happy to talk, but anxious to get home to Y/N.

He looked out towards the large school building where Y/N still taught every day. The new building had been built on the site where the main cabin had been burned down. It was even bigger than the old cabin, with six rooms for the seven teachers that worked there now. 

Y/N was also the principal of the school for all intents and purposes; she and the other teachers taught over two hundred kids from ages five to sixteen. Theresa had finished school and immediately joined the staff as a teacher, working with Y/N every day and loving it. Brandy was so proud.

But Dean wasn’t surprised to see the building empty now, however; he knew it was a day off. He picked up his pace, weaving through the buildings that resided where the old tents had taken up space. 

They’d greatly expanded the food storage, and had an entirely different rations system now that fresh vegetables, fruit, fish and game made up the vast majority of their diet. Brandy was still in charge and was constantly innovating to make things easier and to stretch their food as far as they could in order to feed everyone. 

The former tent area also housed three large storage sheds, a small building that worked as an office/meeting space for whatever group needed to use it, and a small mill where they processed the wheat they grew - that process had included a steep learning curve, but they’d eventually made it work.

There was also a small, open area where a kind of market had popped up organically as the campers traded amongst themselves for things like homemade jewelry, homemade clothes, and other non-essentials.

He walked behind the buildings and began climbing the gently rising path that led to their cabin at the top of the hill. About halfway home he heard loud barking and looked up to see their seven year old Bernese-Husky cross, Clifford, bounding towards him, the way he usually did when any of the family came home. 

“Hey, boy.” Dean said softly, scratching him behind the ears. “Miss me?”

Clifford barked happily in answer and ran ahead and then back to where Dean stood, obviously urging him on towards home. Dean laughed and sped up, chasing after the big dog who sometimes still acted like a puppy.

As the path through the trees ended, opening up into their wide front yard, Dean sighed deeply. “Home sweet home.” He murmured. 

Even though he'd been away less than two days, he was still so happy to be home. He felt the peace that filled him up every time he stepped around the last bend in the path and caught sight of their home in the distance.

The way smoke curled lazily from the chimney and the scent of something delicious wafted through the half open Dutch door, never failed to make him ache to get his arms around his wife and bask in her light. Dean shook his head at his sentimental thoughts, but hurried his pace to get inside. 

As he drew closer however, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he turned his head to see his son walking East, coming out from behind the house. Dean figured he was heading over to his friend Freddie's, and he was about to continue on into the cabin, but then he noticed what his eight-year-old was holding in his hand.

“Gabriel Eric Winchester!” 

Dean's voice bellowed out, freezing the young boy where he stood. Dean strode towards him, anger clear on his face. To the boy's credit, even when he turned and saw his father's anger, he still walked forward slowly, until he was standing directly in front of him. 

The gun he held, however, was tucked just behind his back, as though he was hoping Dean hadn't noticed it. 

Dean held his hand out. “Give that to me this second.”

Gabe's face fell and he brought the gun forward reluctantly, dropping it onto Dean's palm. 

Dean immediately checked to make sure the small, .38 caliber, Smith and Wesson revolver was unloaded and when he saw it was, he held it in his fist, directly in front of Gabe's eyes.

“What the hell do you think you're doing with this?”

His son's eyes were wide and they got watery quickly. 

He shrugged. “I was just gonna bring it to Freddie's. Josh said he could teach us to shoot.” He said, referring to his friend’s older brother. “Just cans on a fence.” He was quick to reassure Dean.

“And did you ask your mother if you could remove a gun from the weapons chest?” Dean asked, already well aware of the answer. 

Gabe shook his head. “No.” He said quietly.

“How did you get it?” Dean asked brusquely.

Gabriel’s voice was still soft as he admitted what he’d done. “I grabbed it yesterday when mom took out a rifle to scare away some raccoons that were trying to get into the compost. Josh said he could teach us if we had guns. So when I saw it last night I just…” He trailed off as he looked up at Dean's face.

“So what you're telling me,” Dean said quietly, “is that while your mother's back was turned you STOLE a gun and planned to use it without asking either of us for permission.”

Gabe's tears spilled down his cheek at his father's disappointed tone and accurate words. He nodded and then sniffed. 

“I'm sorry.” He said thickly. 

Dean crouched down so he could look his son in the eye. “Gabe, a gun is not a toy. I thought you knew this. It's not something to mess around with or use on a whim. It is a weapon. It's incredibly dangerous. If you'd gone off and started shooting, even just at cans, you could have seriously hurt or killed yourself or your friends. Do you understand me?”

Gabe nodded but bit his lip. “But you carry a gun.” He said, pointing to the ever present gun strapped to Dean’s thigh. “And you started using guns when you were even younger than me. I heard you talking about it to mom before. And I…” He sniffled again. “I just wanted to be like you.”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “Oh, buddy, I want you to be so much more than me. Your mom and I, we've worked really hard to make things better for you guys, to make the world safer so that when you grow up, hopefully you won’t have to walk around with a gun strapped to you at all times. It’s my job to protect the people in this camp. That’s why I carry a gun, and why I sometimes carry a rifle. But that’s not your job. Your job is to just be a little boy.”

Dean saw Gabriel pout a bit about being called a little boy. He smiled gently and squeezed his son’s shoulders. “Trust me, buddy, you should enjoy being a kid, don’t try to grow up too quickly.”

Gabe nodded begrudgingly and Dean pulled his son in for a hug. After a moment, he pulled back from him and stood up straight again, before nodding towards the cabin. “Go to your room now until supper, and when you come out, you’ll owe your mother an apology for going behind her back. Also, nothing but school and home for a week, do you understand?”

Gabe looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it when Dean gave him a stern look. “Yes, sir.” He said in acceptance and turned to run into the cabin.

“Gabriel!” Dean called. When his son turned back, the tear tracks on his grubby cheeks still visible, Dean spoke quietly but with conviction. “I love you and that’s why I know you can do better.”

Gabe’s face lost some of its forlorn look and he gave Dean a slightly awkward smile, lightly banging his fist against the side of his leg. “Love you too, Dad.” He said quickly before bolting for the house.

Dean shook his head and slipped the gun into his inside jacket pocket. He’d have to have a few more conversations with his son about gun safety and responsibility, but he was confident he could drill the dangers into him.

He walked up the stairs to the front door, more than ready to see Y/N and his girls. When he walked inside, however, he could hear voices coming from behind the kitchen door, and they didn’t sound very happy.

He pushed open the swinging door and saw Y/N and Emma inside. Y/N’s face lit up. “Dean!” She said happily as she saw him and crossed to the door to pull him down for a kiss. 

“Ew.” Emma said.

It was the standard reaction from all of their kids when they kissed in front of them. Emma had a hand over her eyes as Dean finished the kiss and looked over to where she stood by the sideboard that held all their plates, cups and glasses.

“You can look now, kiddo, we’re all finished.” Dean told her with a grin. “For the moment.”

Emma rolled her eyes and made Dean chuckle. Y/N frowned up at him. “Did I hear you yelling at Gabe?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, gotta talk to you about that, but you guys sounded angry when I came in. Anything wrong?”

Y/N looked at Emma and shrugged. “I’ve been telling Emma that she needs to invite her new friend for dinner.”

Dean’s brow wrinkled as he looked at Emma. “You don’t want to bring your friend over for dinner?”

Emma looked at Y/N with frustration, clearly annoyed that she’d told Dean anything. 

Dean tried again. “What’s going on kiddo, since when don’t you want us to meet your friends? Who is it, by the way? Didn’t realize any new kids had started at the school.”

Y/N shook her head. “Jeffrey’s not a new student, he’s just a new…friend.” She said meaningfully. 

Dean caught on and his face immediately dissolved into a scowl. “Oh.” He said without enthusiasm, crossing his arms over his chest.

“See?” Emma barked out, pointing at Dean, but talking to Y/N. “I told you this is how he’d be!!”

“What?” Dean asked defensively. “What are you talking about?”

Emma folded her arms, her posture and scowl mirroring Dean’s. “You get like this every time I bring a boy home, even when he’s absolutely just a friend. You scare the shit out of them!”

“Emma!” Y/N said, reprimanding her for her language..

But Dean just scoffed. “I don’t know what you mean. How do I scare them?”

Emma glared at him. “You interrogate them, Daddy, you know you do.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, if they’re too freaked out to answer a few simple questions then-”

“Simple questions?” Emma interrupted with a humorless laugh. “When I invited Timothy Sutherland over here you forced him to sit down and answer a thousand questions about his family, his background, where he grew up, what his plans were when we finished school. He ran out of here and never looked back.”

Dean threw his arms out. “Do you really wanna date a loser like that anyway? Who can’t even answer a couple questions?”

“Ugh!” Emma stomped her foot and stormed out the back door. 

Silence reigned for a moment when Emma left before Y/N turned towards Dean, giving him a tilted smile. “So, welcome home!” She said in a would-be cheerful voice.. 

Dean sighed as he pulled her back into his arms and kissed the top of her head. They enjoyed the simple peace of each other’s embrace for a few minutes before Y/N spoke.

“What happened with Gabe?” She asked.

“He stole a gun and was gonna go shoot cans with Josh and Freddie Young.”

“What?” Y/N shouted, pulling back to look into Dean’s face.

He nodded. “Yeah, but don’t worry, I handled it. He’s in his room till supper and he’s grounded for a week. And I talked to him about how dangerous guns were. I have more conversations planned around the subject for the near future.”

Y/N shook her head before laying it back on Dean’s chest. “Good lord.”

After a couple minutes Y/N pulled away and poured them each a cup of coffee. They settled beside each other at the wooden table and instinctively linked fingers.

Dean took a sip of coffee and sighed. “I don’t really interrogate all her boyfriends, do I?”

Y/N pursed her lips. “Well, she’s never actually had a real boyfriend. And I don’t think that's because boys don’t want to date her. She’s smart and kind, beautiful and well-liked. So…” She shrugged. “It seems probable that the boys who like her are just too intimidated by her father - you know, the legend who fought monsters, Croats, angels, and WON - the soldier that leads the camp, wears a gun, and asks scary questions, all while donning a very good mean-face.”

Dean exhaled loudly, but before he could respond, their youngest child came bouncing into the room. She was just six years old, and looked so much like Emma at that age that it sometimes caught Dean off guard. 

But she was definitely her own little bundle of energy. Having never known hunger or hardship, she was all bright smiles and busy excitement. It seemed as though she’d been born smiling and simply hadn't stopped. Very little bothered her, and she was absolutely spoiled by the entire family, including their found family members in the camp.

Everyone loved Hope.

“Daddy, you’re home!” Hope shouted as she jumped into his lap.

“Oof.” He grunted as she landed hard on some sensitive places. “Hey sweetheart!” He said, slightly out of breath. 

“I missed you. Mommy said you might not come home until tomorrow, but I said that you would come home quick because you like to be home and you don’t like to stay away. Right?”

He nodded, trying to keep up with her racing words. “Yeah, baby, I love to be home.” 

Before his sentence was ended Hope was on to her next thought. “I saw Emmie running out the back door and I tried to talk to her, but she looked mad. She was sitting on the tree swing in the back and I wanted a turn, so I told her to push me, but she just helped me on the swing and then she left to walk through the front yard and leave. And when I tried to follow her, she told me not to leave the yard and to go inside and see you cause you were back. So, I did.” She paused for breath before asking, “Why was Emmie mad?”

Y/N answered. “It’s nothing sweet pea. Why don’t you help me make supper? You can shuck the corn.”

Hope clapped her hands. “Yes, I want to pull all the strings off.” 

Y/N held her daughter’s hand as she hopped off of Dean’s lap, and then leaned forward to kiss Dean slowly. 

“Ew.” Hope said, shielding her eyes as her sister had. 

Y/N smiled against Dean’s lips and whispered to him. “Go talk to your daughter.”

Dean nodded and stood up, bending to kiss Hope’s shiny chestnut curls on the crown of her head. “Hey, promise me something short one.” He said, continuing when she looked up at him. “Promise you’ll take a really long time to grow up, okay?”

She smiled at him, cheeks round and rosy. “Okay, daddy.”

He winked at Y/N who smiled indulgently. “She promises.”

***

Dean instinctively knew where he’d find his oldest child. She coped with stress and frustration the same way he did, the way he’d taught her to. 

He walked through the door of the garage and sure enough, there was Emma, wearing old, blue coveralls that were too big for her, and bent over the hood of the little Chevy hatchback that sat next to the Impala. He knew she heard him come in, but she didn’t say anything, just kept working. 

Dean hopped up on Baby’s hood and waited for her to be ready to talk. Eventually, she caved and looked over at him, her face slightly shuttered and a little hard to read. “Hi.” She said simply.

He smiled at her. “Hey kiddo.” He nodded at the open hood she was under. “How are things looking? Still need a new oil pan?”

Emma shook her head. “No, I replaced that last week. Risa found me one in the back of the storage shed.”

“Good.” Dean said. They were both quiet as Emma leaned back in and continued working. 

After a moment she cleared her throat. “Looks like I’m gonna need new brake pads though. Think we could go to Lowry’s and see what he’s got.” She asked, referring to a guy in Brisbane who collected car parts and often traded with them.

“Sure. I’ll be busy for the next day or so. But we can go after that. One day after school?” He asked.

Emma nodded and stood up, wiping her hands on the rag she had stuffed in her pocket. She was quiet as she slammed the hood closed and then stepped out of the coveralls and hung them up on the hook beside the door.

She wandered over to Baby and hoisted herself up beside Dean on the hood. After a moment she leaned her head onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Dad. I’m glad you’re home.”

Dean lifted his arm so she could snuggle closer, and then wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, squeezing her into his side.

“No, you don’t have to apologize, baby. Apparently I’ve been unconsciously scaring away the tons of boys who would otherwise be beating down our door. Though, if I’m being completely truthful, it probably wasn’t entirely unconscious. Cause I just know not a one of them is gonna be good enough for you.”

Emma chuckled. “I don’t think it’s tons of boys, Daddy. And I’m not interested in a bunch of boys. I’m interested in Jeffery. And I really do want you to meet him. I think if you give him a chance you’d like him. He’s really sweet and funny and just…” She sighed. “I just like him.”

Dean squeezed her again and felt his chest constrict with love and bittersweet memories, remembering how she used to crawl into his lap and let him read her to sleep. Those days were long gone, but she was still that little girl to him and she probably always would be. But he knew she was growing up and he needed to loosen his grip, at least a little.

So he sighed now and nodded. “Okay, kiddo. If you like him, I’m sure I’ll like him too. So, invite him over for dinner one evening and I swear to keep my questions to a minimum and be perfectly cordial.”

Emma laughed. “I don’t know if cordial is ever a word I’d use to describe you, Dad. Let’s just try to leave out the death stares.”

***

That evening after dinner, it was Gabe and Hope’s turn to do dishes. Gabriel washed and Hope dried with some assistance from Dean. As they were finishing up, Keisha and Julianne showed up on their doorstep asking if Emma was free to go for a walk around camp.

Y/N nodded when Emma looked to her for permission. “That’s fine. Be home before dark. Oh, here.” She said to the twins, grabbing a bag and passing it to them. “Take these home to your mom, it's the dress patterns she loaned me.”

Keisha went to take it, but Y/N pulled it back. “On second thought, nevermind. I’ll bring it to her tomorrow afternoon. Gives me a reason to visit and gossip.”

The girls all laughed and then waved as they headed out the door. Dean had to smile as they walked away, their high pitched voices and giggles floating back to them on a breeze. Some things hadn’t changed and he was grateful. 

Gabe went to his room to read, since he was housebound for the next while. Hope played with some well loved and worn out dolls for a little bit before they took her to her room and put her to bed. They tucked Gabe in not long after, and then took their coffee cups out onto their little front porch and sat in one of the big Adirondack chairs that Dean and Sam had built three years ago.

Y/N settled happily into Dean’s lap, her hands cupped around her warm mug. The late spring air was soft and warm, and the sounds of the camp drifted up the hill towards them. They listened contentedly for a little while as Clifford came out of the house and flopped down on Dean’s feet. 

They talked about the kids and they talked about the Deerling camp; they talked about Sam, and Y/N admonished Dean for teasing him about Eileen. 

“Be nice.” She scolded. “I hope he will bring her to dinner. If he likes her, I mean.”

They talked about anything and everything, and as the sun began to set, Emma came up the path and smiled as she saw her parents cuddled together in one chair. As much as she rolled her eyes and hid her face when they started getting kissy, she loved how much they loved each other. And she knew she’d never settle for anything less than what they had together. 

She told them goodnight and went inside, Clifford rising slowly to follow her and sleep at the end of her bed as he did every night.

Soon the fireflies were buzzing loudly and the camp was getting quiet, so Dean stood up with Y/N still in his arms, leaving their coffee cups to sit on the porch until morning. She laughed as her husband carried her effortlessly into their bedroom.

He set her on her feet and locked the door before he buried his hands in her hair and pulled her to him, crushing her lips beneath his own. Y/N moaned softly and immediately pulled off his flannel shirt and yanked his t-shirt over his head so she could spread her hands across the wide expanse of his still beautifully muscled torso. 

“God I missed you.” She breathed, even though it had only been one night. “I hate when you go away.”

He smiled against her skin as he stripped her down to her bra and panties. “Missed you too, sweetheart. Promise not to go anywhere ever again.”

Y/N laughed at his impossible promise as he lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He continued kissing her as he crossed the room and lowered her to the bed. She wouldn’t let go of him and pulled him down on top of her. 

Dean chuckled at her hold on him and then mouthed his way down her body, licking and nipping at her skin. Ten years later she still had the ability to make him instantly hard and aching for her.

They spent most of the night making up for the one they’d been apart. In the darkest part of the night they found light and life in each other’s arms and fell asleep knowing tomorrow would dawn bright and busy - filled with responsibilities, joy, love and most of all…

…hope.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #endverse!dean fan fic series #endverse

[lendeah]

A small prompt because I was feeling sad and inspired😞sorry if the writing is lazy, wrote it in a rush!

Prompt: "you make me feel so alone."

Tags: Angst, Ascended! Astarion, mentions of blood, Astarion x Fem!Tav

Words: 1.3k

I thought the illithid invasion would be the worse thing that I’d witness in my whole life. The scene unfolding in front of me, however, comes close by. Another scream of pain rips the air, bouncing off the walls of Cazador’s Throne Room, well, Astarion’s Throne Room. I close my eyes, trying to distance myself from this reality, as I have done so many times over the past few months. But the sound of blood splashing the marble floor is enough to make me sick.

The poor goblin had been caught stealing some relic from the Palace, when he was on cleaning duty. Obviously, Astarion hadn’t taken the news too well, and decided to make an example out of him.

The example? A hundred and twenty lashes on his back, one for each coin the relic was worth. All of this while Master Astarion watched from his throne, of course. He wasn’t one to get his hands dirty.

Astarion sits on his throne, observing the punishment from afar. His demeanor is cool and collected, but a strange air of madness and depravity emanates from him. His piercing gaze is full of anticipation, and a hint of sadism is visible on his face.

The goblin's scream is only interrupted by the harsh sound of the whip, the noise of flesh hitting flesh. After what seems like an eternity, the punishment ends, and I exhale a shaky breath, finally daring to reopen my eyes. The goblin lies unconscious on the floor, and for a moment I wonder if he is dead, before I hear him wail. His back is bleeding, the skin cut open and bruised all over. Astarion seems pleased with himself, chuckling and clapping his hands.

"Amazing show! I loved it! We should repeat sometime” He exclaims. Then, he looks at me, a sadistic glint in his eyes. "What did you think of my little show?"

I make my face a facade of indifference.

“It was beautiful, my king” I lie, knowing to tread my words carefully around him.

"Oh, I know you love that..." His eyes travel all over my body, before stopping at my face. "But perhaps we could put on quite a show ourselves later in our chambers, yes? I have some special plans for my lovely pet."

A shiver runs through my back at the thought of his hands on me, but I plaster an smile and nod silently. He smirks and tugs at my leash, making me sit in his lap, as he runs his fingers through my hair.

"Ah, my lovely pet... So beautiful and obedient. Isn't my little spawn the most amazing thing I could've found?"

I feel nauseous, as I always do when I’m with him nowadays. At first I thought I could be happy as long as he was happy, but soon I discovered he wasn’t the man I loved anymore. The man I once loved has been replaced by this cruel and sadistic red eyed thing.

"Oh, you don't appear very happy," Astarion notices, but he doesn't seem to care. "Your face isn't as beautiful as before... You no longer smile as you used to... Is there something bothering you?" His hands caress the side of your forehead, brushing off a few stray strands of hair. “Perhaps I can alleviate your worries? My little pet has to be happy with me, after all."

A stray tear rolls down my cheek, but I do my best to smile and pretend to be happy.

“Of course I’m happy, master. I will always be happy with you”

"That's my good girl," Astarion seems pleased with you, not noticing the fake cheer. "Now, let's go to our chambers. I've plenty of things in mind for my dear little pet."

The body on the floor has already been lifted by the time we get out of the throne, making in to the master bedroom in no time. My breath grows shaky as I enter the bedroom, my heartbeat quickens, and my lips are dry as Astarion closes the door behind me. I can feel my legs heavy and weak beneath me, and I just want to run away as fast as I can.

The room looks almost unchanged from how it used to be when we first came here, but all the memories I have with him now have a darker undertone. After he has his way with my body, and we lay tangled in bed I silently weep on my pillow, and for the last time, I let myself get vulnerable with him.

“What happened to you?” I choke, almost a whisper.

He stirs next to me, not expecting my outburst.

"What happened to me?” He huffs “My whole life I've been the slave of some powerful Vampire master who wanted to use me for his amusement, I finally manage to free myself and rule over this kingdom... And I get this weakling, asking dumb questions? What makes you think you have the right to ask such things?"

I look at the ceiling. At this point, I’m not even hurt by his words. Not even annoyed. I just feel apathetic. However, I let myself try for the last time.

“You make me feel so alone” I whisper.

He scoffs at my words

“Oh? Alone? But you have me! That’s all you wanted, right? For me to love you." He asks, seemingly amused by my reaction.

Another tear falls down my cheek, and I laugh dryly.

“I have never felt more alone than how I feel now with you”

Astarion chuckles darkly.

"You're such a pitiful creature. All you do is whine and cry. You never make sense. You're nothing but a fool. I gave you everything you ever wanted. All the power and glory you could wish for. This beautiful body, my undivided attention. And yet, you're the one who's feeling alone?"

His voice grows harsher, and his eyes are cold as ice when he looks at me.

I turn my head to finally face him, “There is nothing of the warm, funny and caring man that I loved. Instead, I am in a golden cage trapped with a cruel, ruthless man who pretends to love me so I won’t leave his side” I take a shaky breath “So yes, I am alone”

"You dare talk to me like that?" His voice is sharp as a knife, and his eyes blaze. “You're lucky I still keep you around. I had half a mind to make you one of my spawn, but you seem too stupid to be worthy of such an honor."

And at that point, I finally realize, that the old Astarion won’t ever come back. He is dead, right next to Cazador’s severed body. And I will never forgive myself for letting him go through with the ritual.

But I can’t spend one more second inside this haunted place.

With the last of my strength, I plaster a fake smile and tell him “I’m sorry, Master, you are right. Forgive my manners, the goblin scene from before left me a bit shaken”

"I forgive you, my pet... You were just too naive, that's all. I had to bring you back to your senses."

He leans over to kiss my forehead, and I suppress a shudder. We spend the night like that, in each other’s embrace, but I lay awake the whole time, watching the time go by.

By morning, when Astarion returns from his usual hunting routine, the Vampire Court Consort is nowhere to be seen. Nobody seems to have seen her leave the palace, nor escape through a window.

Rumors say, the woman escaped through a portal with a certain wizard. Others add that a light cleric, claiming to share her knowledge, snuck her out with an invisibility spell. The only sure thing is that, for the rest of his life, the Vampire King will search all around the world for his property, knowing she was the first and last woman he loved.

#astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #writing prompt

[fanficshiddles]

The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 1

Summary: Claire moves to Demsdale to take up a new job as an assistant teacher for one Loki Laufeyson. She's also very intrigued with all of the rumours within the borough of Redbridge. However, as she starts to fall for Loki's charm and good looks, she also learns that all of the rumours might not just be rumours after all.

NOTE/WARNINGS: Vampire/Teacher Loki, blood, talk of death, violence, dark-ish scenes, but fluffy Loki.

Also: I've tagged the other characters, but really, you can imagine whoever you want as them.

And a BIG Thank you to @toshisurtsdottir for helping me with this fic! x

-

Claire shivered as she looked down at the water flowing beneath her, glistening red in the pale moonlight.

‘So, the rumours are true.’ She whispered.

The snow crunched under her feet as she made her way across the old arched bridge, and then started following a small path through the park that followed alongside the river upstream.

There were rumours that every year without fail, on the fourth of January, the river always turned red for a few hours in the evening. And now, she had finally been able to confirm that rumour.

Claire had always been fascinated by Demsdale, a city rumoured to have a large vampire population, if you believed in vampires that was… Claire’s rational side didn’t really believe in it, she knew there had to be a reasonable, scientific explanation for it all. But at the same time, she had always been intrigued with the idea of vampires being real.

It was said that many authors of vampire books had come to Demsdale for inspiration. More-so the borough of Redbridge, where Claire stood currently, because of the red river. So, even if the rumours weren’t true, just being where many great books were born was quite exciting in itself.

Claire had just moved there between Christmas and New Year, due to start her new job tomorrow as an assistant teacher.

She continued her way through the park, keeping in line with the river until it came to an abrupt bend and went through a forest situated at the edge of the borough. Although, as she continued following it through the tall trees, she soon found she couldn’t go any further as an intimidating, high barbed wire fence blocked her way.

‘Damn it.’ She hissed and pulled her jacket in closer around her neck as the cold began creeping in.

A loud noise, similar to a bone snapping, came from behind her and made her jump, she spun around quickly and tried to get her eyes to focus. Whilst there was some light that came from the lanterns in the park, it was still dark enough for her eyes to play tricks on her. She could’ve sworn she had just seen a large shadow ducking behind a tree not too far from her.

Calm down, Claire. It’s just your eyes playing tricks on you… Just make your way back to the park. She thought to herself, trying to calm her nerves.

Inhaling deeply a few times to try and steady her shaky breathing, she began making her way back to the safety of the park. She kept her eyes on the ground to follow her footprints back out towards the path so she wouldn't get lost.

But just as she neared the edge of the trees, it sounded like there was footsteps following her through the snow. Her back stiffened as she hastily emerged from the forest, even though the noise abruptly stopped, she kept moving to get plenty of distance from the intimidating trees.

Once back in the light of the park, she bravely turned around and looked at the dark forest. Now that she was looking back at it, she mentally slapped herself for going in there in the first place. Redbridge was, after all, well known for murders and kidnappings. Not that there was a crazy amount regularly, but just more so than anywhere else in the city.

There was no sign of anyone now, allowing her to relax. But her calm moment didn't last long, when a deafening noise filled the whole area. It sounded like high-pitched screams and leather slapping all at once. Claire’s heart immediately began racing again. She turned on her heels and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Seconds later, a group of bats flew overhead out from the trees and dispersed around the park.

‘Bloody hell.’ She gasped as she stopped to catch her breath again, hand clutched to her chest.

‘Time to go home.’ She muttered and finally made her way out of the park. She felt better being back on the streets, with cars and plenty of people going about.

It didn’t take too long for her to get home either, she stayed just on the borderline of Redbridge. It was ideal as it was in close proximity to the school she was going to be working at. As soon as she had locked the door behind her, she grabbed one of her history books and flicked through the pages until she found the one she had been looking for.

Articles about the history of the city. They claimed that the bridge Claire had stood on just minutes earlier, was where the very first five vampires were turned by a spiteful witch looking for revenge on people of the former village of Demsdale, for brutally murdering her sister. She had trapped five men on said bridge and cursed them into blood sucking monsters, hoping they would bring terror and death to the villagers.

That was apparently why the borough earned the name Redbridge, and where the rumour of the blood river started too. The book said the curse was brought upon the men on the fourth of January, where every year thereafter the river turns red on that very night, but just for a few hours.

Claire hadn’t truly believed it at first, but after seeing it with her own eyes tonight, she wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. She had hoped to find some kind of logical explanation, but she wasn’t about to go trespassing over barbed wire in a freaky forest to find out.

She decided that she'd had enough adventure for one night and went to bed with her book. She hadn’t closed the curtains yet, but ended up so engrossed in her book that she never noticed a bat at her window, looking at her from small, black eyes.

-

‘It’s barbaric.’ Matt uttered, shaking his head.

‘It’s fun! They don’t feel anything.’ David replied with a shrug, stirring his tea.

‘Yeah, maybe not when you do it, but we all know there’s some that enjoy torturing the poor humans in the process.’ Matt argued back.

Loki had just walked into the teacher’s lounge in the morning and couldn’t help but overhear their bickering.

‘Well, I wonder what it could be you’re talking about.’ He grumbled, making himself a cup of tea.

‘In our defence, it was mostly humans that wanted to end their life that were used last night…’ Jessica chimed in with.

‘Mostly is the word that’s the problem there.’ Loki huffed. ‘I read online there’s six humans that mysteriously went missing yesterday.’

The others went a little quiet. Then Severus, who usually keeps to himself, spoke up. ‘Still, less people were killed than in previous years. That number is going down, if only a little.’

‘Hey, how come you weren’t there? It’s not like you to miss out on the yearly hunt.’ David asked.

Severus’ eyes twinkled a little. ‘I was… otherwise engaged.’

‘Yeah, getting it on with his new girl.’ Jessica smirked.

‘Right, I forgot a human has got you wrapped around her little finger now.’ David laughed.

‘At least I have someone that loves me for me.’ Severus countered.

‘Don’t tell me she’s turning you soft, old man!’ Hannibal teased.

‘There’s nothing wrong with loving a human.’ Loki snapped.

‘I never said there was.’ Hannibal said in defence.

‘Well, Severus is right. At least things are still going in the right direction, it’s less numbers than previous years. Your father’s ways are really starting to get out there more.’ David tried, hoping to calm Loki down a little.

‘I guess so. I just agree with Matt. Hunting terrified humans just to drink for fun is disgusting. Especially when we have access to the blood bank whenever we need.’ Loki stated.

‘Plus, with all the bars we have deals with. There’s just no need to be hunting to kill and terrify anymore.’ Matt agreed.

Loki nodded. ‘Exactly. Even if most of the prey are willing to be there, there’s still no need for it. It needs to end. It’s a ridiculous tradition.’

‘Well, I made sure none of them felt any pain. It’s an old yearly tradition, but at least it’s less barbaric than it used to be. And I’m sure in the next few years it will be only the willing humans there.’ David shrugged.

‘Not with Chris still running it, it won’t be.’ Loki growled.

‘What won’t be?’ Came Chris’ voice as he entered the room.

‘We were speaking about the yearly hunt. That each year there’s less and less unwilling humans there.’ Hannibal said.

Loki stiffened and focused on drinking his tea, angry eyes not leaving the cup in front of him.

Chris smirked as he stalked across the room to the kettle. ‘Indeed, they are getting less… which is a shame, as it’s nowhere near as fun when they’re there of their own accord.’

Loki and Matt both bit their tongues to keep quiet. They knew there was no point fighting with him, they wouldn’t win anyway. No one could win a physical fight against Chris. Being one of the original five vampires, he was one of the most powerful vampires in the world even. There was only two of them left.

‘But we do need to keep the peace with the humans.’ Jessica said calmly.

‘True.’ Chris nodded. ‘However, that’s why having the hunt when we do is ideal. Everyone just thinks that people have ran away or killed themselves after spending the depressing holiday season on their own.’ Chris said calmly as he turned to face everyone with a grin.

‘Didn’t you enjoy yourselves?’ Chris then asked, looking at David, Jessica and Hannibal.

‘Of course, we did. It’s always fun, even with the willing humans. It brings us back to our carnal nature after all. Let’s us live out our little fantasy every year.’ Jessica said with a smile.

‘Well then. The vampires are happy, the humans that went there willingly are happily at peace, and the few I picked off because they were lonely, well… I am sure they are happier wherever they are now.’ Chris gave Jessica a charming smile.

Loki struggled to remain calm, his jaw clenched and his free hand balled into a fist. He tried his best not to crush his cup.

Everyone went silent when they heard the only two human teachers making their way down the corridor towards the room.

Redbridge secondary school was run by vampires, and most of the teachers were vampires too, with just two human teachers. The pupils were 60% vampires but only a few of the human pupils knew about their existence, mostly if they were best friends with a vampire or dating one.

As the school’s headmaster, Chris was almost in total control of the place. However, the school also had a set council of vampires that had the ultimate say in big decisions. The school had been set up by Loki’s father, Lucius. The income they received from family’s that sent their kids there could go into the blood bank at the hospital down the road.

The hospital was founded and ran by Lucius too, and the blood bank was for vampires to have a way of getting their feed without actually having to drink from humans. The humans got paid for their blood donations, of course thinking it went to fellow humans in need. Which part of it did, because Lucius did run a proper hospital too, bustling with humans working there, glad they had a well-paying job.

For the last one hundred years, Lucius has had a vision of humans and vampires being able to co-exist together, with the humans mostly being unaware of the vampire’s existence. It had been a hard battle getting vampires to change their old ways, but with more vampire hunters entering the scene, the vampires realised that they couldn’t keep feeding off of human’s as they pleased without consequence. There was one vampire hunter in particular who had proven to fight the especially cruel and unrelenting vampires with the same, if not more cruelty. In the end, most of them realised that Lucius’ way was the right way, especially if they wanted to stay alive.

Some bars had policies for vampires, they would send the drunk humans out the back where vampires could take their fill from them. Providing they didn’t kill them. So when the human woke up, whatever they would remember from the encounter just seemed like a lucid dream.

While there were still lots of vampires that enjoyed feeding from humans in one way or another, there was a few that not only enjoyed feeding from them, but enjoyed torturing them too, not fearing the consequences or the hunters. Vampires could release endorphins while they were feeding, resulting in the humans to feel drowsy and happy, but some vampires choose not to. They loved hearing the cries of terror and pain while they were drinking from their prey far too much. Often, they would not stop after the human passed out, they would suck the human dry.

And Chris happened to be one of those vampires.

The human teachers Michael and Jeremy entered the lounge and happily greeted everyone. The vampires all put on smiles and everyone shared what they got up to over the holidays. Well, the human friendly parts, at least.

Loki was still uncomfortable about being in the same room as Chris, especially after what had happened last night. So he left the room as soon as he could.

‘I’m away to get my lessons planned for the day.’ He hastily said to everyone.

‘Oh Loki, before you go...’ Chris called to him, making him stop but Loki didn’t turn to face Chris. ‘You’ve got a new assistant joining you today. She’s just passed her teaching exams from across the country and is going to be joining us for a couple of years.’

Loki turned and looked at Chris with an eyebrow up. ‘You didn’t think to tell me before now?’

Chris hid a smirk behind his tea as he took a sip. ‘I didn’t know about it until this morning when I came in. It’s not a problem, is it?’

Loki kept his cool and shook his head. ‘No, not at all… I could do with the assistance actually.’

‘Good. She’ll be in your classroom, waiting.’

‘She? Finally, another woman in the mix.’ Jessica cheered.

Loki turned around and continued on out of the room with his jaw clenched. He was pissed that he was only being told now. He thought it would no doubt be another vampire, if Chris had something to do with it. Loki only hoped she wasn’t old school type with her feeding. Or they would end up not getting along well at all.

As he opened the door to his classroom, the most intoxicating, mouth-watering smell, instantly hit him like a ton of bricks.

‘Oh, hi! You must be Mr Laufeyson. I’m Claire, Claire Mason.’ A young woman said brightly as she walked up to him with her hand outstretched towards him.

Oh no. She was no vampire… This was going to be much, much, worse than he had thought.

#tom hiddleston #loki #loki x ofc #vampire Loki #loki fic #David Tennant #Jessica Chastain #Chris Motionless #Severus Snape #Matt Murdock #Michael Fassbender #Jeremy Renner #Hannibal #the redbridge hunts

[copperbadge]

Supposedly, people with Anphantasia don't get scared reading scary stories, or at least not much. Is that true with you if you ever read Horror?

You know, I'd never thought about it, but I suppose it is. To an extent, anyway.

Follows a discussion of my relationship to horror prose and media; if you don't know what aphantasia is, as many people coming to this tumblr don't, I have a tag for it here that may help -- it's basically the lack of a "mind's eye", a visual imagination, so I hear/read things and don't see an image of them in my mind. If you are scoffing right now that nobody actually has a mind's eye, congratulations, you may also have aphantasia. The articles linked in the tag will be useful to you.

I have definitely been scared by prose before but it's very rare, and not much since I was a child, when the stories I found scary were preying on fears I already had. I loved the Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark books, and I think it's not unusual that I found the illustrations more frightening than the prose, but the only story that ever scared me was the one about the vampire who kept trying to grab a kid through a window -- because I had a window over my bed in my childhood bedroom and I was terrified I'd look up to see someone looking down at me through it. Likewise, as an adult, the only content in horror I find scary is what I think of as "mind horror" -- the loss of faculty or the loss of awareness of faculty (think the end scene of the novel Hannibal with the brain). Which is one of my biggest fears.

I don't read much horror because generally I get bored, which has in the past made me feel faintly appalled at myself, but which now makes more sense. Certainly I have no interest in slasher-style gore in prose, because I find it uninteresting and it goes on a really long time, while I don't watch it in movies/TV because the visual is upsetting -- so if I was getting the visual from the prose I might react more emotionally. I am a fan of Stephen King but mostly his early work where he was shorter on suspense, and I was reading it because I liked the ideas and the characters. Carrie is super interesting because of the personalities involved, not because of the violence or the horror aspects. But I've never seen a movie adaptation and I can imagine I would be deeply unsettled if not distraught by certain scenes if depicted visually. Although I didn't find the Hannibal TV series super upsetting (I mostly was put off by how bad I imagined Will smelled) so perhaps body horror just doesn't do it for me.

This may also explain my hard-no on zombie media, because I'm not scared at all of zombies, I just find them boring and gross, and that leaves the post-apocalyptic humans. My hard-no on post-apocalypse anything is an aversion to imagining the end of my world, though, which isn't visual, it's conceptual, and not scary, just upsetting.

Like, people kept suggesting Zombies Run! to me when I was taking up running and -- well, one, I needed the music to keep my pace, I didn't want it interrupted. But two, I didn't see why a bunch of random groaning noises would make me run faster. If you could see zombies chasing you in your head, yeah, that'd probably be more motivating.

It kind of explains too why I haven't written much horror. I used to be very curious about how people worked out what's "scary" in horror prose and I guess part of the curiosity came from not experiencing it myself. It's tough to know how to write a scary story when stories don't scare you.

To be clear, I definitely experience fear. Reading Stephen King's "It" didn't really scare me, but there were scary moments in the film adaptations. I startle at jumpscares. There's plenty of stuff in real life that I'm scared of. And even podcasts -- I don't get mental images during podcasts like apparently most people do, but Magnus Archives got me with the "digging into your pre-existing fears" thing once or twice, and while I didn't finish The Left Right Game (I just got bored) the hitchhiker scene definitely got me. But I think, unless it's playing on something conceptual that already existed, yeah, I don't find prose particularly frightening.

Huh. This feels like the kind of thing that could have a significant impact on my creative output if I could crowbar my way into it. Knowing that I as an aphantic don't need descriptions that other people do has already, I think, impacted my editing process, but this feels like it maybe would somehow have an effect on the whole thing -- the fact that I don't experience emotions when reading in the same way other people do because I don't get the visuals is something to meditate on.

How the fuck did I ever even become a writer. Like what's up with that.

(Ironically it was X-Files fanfic. X-Files, a show that very much did scare me, for which I wrote and read a lot of fanfic, none of which did...yikes. Well, that's something to meditate on for the weekend.)

#sam has adhd #an aphantasia fantasia

[seeingstarks]

best + bitter = better

prompt : hi can you write a fluff about reader being married to MJF or can you write a fluff about reader being MJF wife and bring reader and MJF child to AEW for the first time to watch MJF wrestle? requested from : @sunrise28sblog summary : exhausted from being on the road you hope to sleep in with your husband, maxwell. instead you both wake up early and enjoy the morning together. pairing : mjf x afab!reader (pre-established relationship - husband/wife) cw : cuddling, teasing if you squint super hard, pillow fights, lap-sitting, blushing, implied pregnancy, mentions of parenting, kissing, basically pure fluff! a/n : i did most of the first request but a dash of the second, i hope you enjoy it! as always reblogs are very much appreciated! word count : 639 words tag list : @adamjf , @josiewrites gif credit : @adamjf

being married to the devil himself came with it's luxuries. he'd spoil you without even asking. taking notice of the little things, you were the one who finally broke his walls down and saw the sweet to his so-called bitter side that everyone warned you about. maxwell had trust issues ever since his ex-fiancé called it splits but the moment he set eyes on you he had a change of heart. putting every ounce of trust in you, doing the same while feeling safe in his arms.

groaning as the bright sun peaked through the curtains you wished to sleep in beside your husband but morning seemed to have other plans.

he was still sound asleep with one arm wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you close as if his life depended on it.

today was supposed to be the day you both got to sleep in with one another having time off from all elite but no matter how hard you tried your slumber was no more.

there was plenty of room on your shared king size mattress however maxwell wanted to be pressed up against you, his nose rubbing along your neck ever so slightly as he took in the scent of your shampoo.

you didn't mind his company in the slightest, rather adoring it as you glanced over to meet his chocolate eyes which opened up slowly, his brown locks still a mess from sleeping on the pillows and waking up from his beauty sleep.

"g'mornin' sleepy head." you smiled at your husband and stretched a bit, only waking up a few minutes before him.

maxwell sighed as he looked at the time, knowing that the two of you both wanted to sleep in longer after such a rigorous work schedule and being on the road but he didn't mind either as long as it was with you, his wife.

he leaned over to place a soft kiss against your neck, "good morning, mrs. y/n. friedman."

your cheeks started to heat up the moment he called you by your full legal name, you'd been married for almost a year now but would never get over the fact you were actually his wife.

"it's so cute when you blush, y/n."

"oh, shush.. maxwell."

"that can be arranged." the same smirk you knew all too well spread along his lips as you threw a pillow at the love of your life.

he caught the pillow with his face, gasping and placing a hand to his chest as an 'how dare you' moment when his eyes met with yours.

a chuckle escaped your lips when you made way to take cover under the blankets from any incoming fire of pillows however your efforts were too late when coming in contact with a face full of pillow and seeing maxwell with a grin on his face.

"oh, it's on now." you grabbed another pillow as he did the same, the two of you having a wrestling match of sorts before maxwell scooped you up in his arms and sat you on his lap, "so does this mean i win?"

"nope, you gotta' pin me to win.. handsome."

"but.. y/n i've already won in life by being married to the most beautiful, smart, and talented person i know."

just before you and maxwell were about to kiss you heard tiny steps approach the room and a meow.

"don't worry, we didn't forget about you piper. you're our little princess while we have one on the way."

maxwell placed a loving hand on your stomach before engulfing you in a kiss, "i can't believe i'm going to be a dad. we'll be the best parents ever y/n, i just know it." he assured as you placed a hand over his and enjoyed the rest of your peaceful morning in each other's arms.

#maxwell jacob friedman #mjf #mjf x reader #mjf x female reader #mjf x fem reader #aew fluff #wrestling fluff

[pedroshotwifey]

Pickled Peña Challenge 2023

Good Impression

Pairing: Husband!Javier P. x GN!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags/Warnings: Nothing really, fluff, lil bit of angst (silly angst tho), reader and Javi have a dog, Chucho being hella cool, kissing, cussing, vivid descriptions of fried pickles, wifey being actually stupid

Summary: You really wanted to bring something for Chucho's new year's party...

A/N: Hey, y'all! This is my contribution to @goodwithcheese's Pickled Peña Resolutions Writing Challenge! It's kind of stupid but it's what I've got lmao. I can't wait to read everyone else's Peña stories (please feel free to tag me in them)! Unfamiliar with this challenge? Read more about it here! @pickled-pena

*****

“Shit!”

You curse as you watch a pickle slice splat wetly onto the kitchen floor, jumping back to avoid it landing on your bare foot. Max, your golden lab (who was oh-so-creatively named by your husband) is quick to clean it up not a second after it falls. 

“Goddammit, Max,” you scold as you watch him scarf it down without shame. “That’s your fifth pickle today.” 

Hell, it might be the sixth. You usually aren’t a super messy cook, but it’s a different story when you’re in a time crunch. You need to leave the house in about an hour, and the fried pickles you promised to bring for Chucho’s new year’s party are only half done. 

Javier walks in then, chuckling slightly at the interaction he just witnessed. You give him a pointed look before getting back to the task at hand, smothering pickle slices in the flour mixture you had made up. 

“Oh, come on now, sweetheart,” Javi says as he walks up behind you to glide his arms around your waist. “Don’t be like that, we have plenty of time.”

You roll your eyes and half-heartedly shove him off of you as you dip the first batch into the oil on the stove. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, Javi, I still have to fry every single one of these slices, and then let them dry and cool before we can leave. Plus, I still need to change my clothes, and we have to pick up a gift for Chucho on our way there.”

Javi presses a kiss to the top of your head, humming in response to your explanation. 

“I think we’ll be okay. Chucho isn’t going to mind if we’re a little late.” 

“I know,” you whine. “But I still hate not being–”

“I promise you, baby. As long as I show up with ‘that pretty partner of mine’, there’s not going to be an issue.” He pinches your hip lightly as he quotes his father’s words from a few days earlier. 

You can’t help the faint smile that crawls across your face at that reminder. You had been so worried about Javier’s family not liking you, but it turns out that they adore you just as much as he does, just from what he’s said about you. It’s nice to know you’ll be welcomed so warmly even though they had never met you previously. 

The two of you had met in columbia by chance, hooked up, and things spiraled from there. As much as he tried, Javi just couldn’t tear himself away from you. A year later, the two of you were married, and a year after that, you both moved back to Javi’s hometown in Texas, where you’re now, finally, about to meet everyone you had heard so much about. 

You had told Javi that it’s your new year’s resolution to make a good impression, but you doubt that’s going to be very hard. You’ve already made a good impression in their book just by marrying the man.

“How about you go ahead and get changed, and I’ll do what I can here?” Javi suggests. 

You scoop out your pickles and lay them on a rack to dry before turning around and planting a kiss on Javi’s cheek. 

“Thank you, baby. That would help a lot.” 

“No problema, mi vida.”

He grabs your wrist to pull you in to press his lips against yours. You smile against him before pulling back and planting a final, light kiss on his lips. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you tell him as you back out of the doorway. 

***

It doesn’t take too long for you to get dressed. Javi is just finishing the pickles as you walk back into the kitchen. 

“Should be all set,” he says as he wipes his hands down with a paper towel. You lean on your toes to kiss him again.

The two of you have everything cleaned and packed up within another few minutes. You glance at the clock, which tells you that you should be right on time by the time you’re walking out the door. You grab the container of pickles to take with you to the hall table by the front door. 

Javi mumbles something from behind you and then walks into your room, patting his pockets as he goes. You almost laugh under your breath at his forgetfulness until you realize you left your keys in the bathroom. 

You place the container down and walk down the hall, not noticing how precariously balanced the tub is left. You snatch your keys up at the same time you hear a crash. You gasp at the sound of what can only be a plastic lid breaking off to spill your hard work all over the floor. 

Your fears are confirmed as you quickly make your way back to where you left them, only to find Javi hovering over the mess. When looks up and immediately catches your stunned expression, his entire body freezing as he does so.

“Baby,” he starts slowly. I swear it wasn’t–”

“Javier. F. Peña,” you seethe, each name spat out as its own individual sentence. “You did not just knock that down,” you almost dare him to contradict you. There’s absolutely no way for you to make another batch right now. You don’t have the time nor the ingredients. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Javi retorts defensively, holding up his hands as he takes a step toward you. “What makes you so sure that it was me? I thought it was you until I got out here!”

“Me?” you gawk at him, offended. “Unlike some other people I know, I’m not that fucking clumsy!” 

“Woah, you stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time?”

Just then, Max slinks into the hall, drawing both of your attention to his guilty movements. His tail wags hesitantly behind him, his head ducked. The fact that he’s not all over those damn pickles tells you all that you need to know. You sigh in frustration, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

You look back up at Javi, and you can’t miss the glint of amusement in his eye. A smile peaks out as you lean down to Max’s level. You don’t scold him, instead gently grabbing his collar to lead him to your room before shutting the door so you can clean the mess without interruption. 

Javi’s already on it, sweeping everything into a dustpan. You lean against the wall as he finishes up. 

“Guess we’re going to have to stop by that burger joint in town,” you say, sighing again. Javi watches you, sending you a sympathetic smile. He knows how much you wanted to bring something homemade, how much it meant to have something to offer, no matter how small. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart. Maybe next time we can invite Chucho over for dinner next week, make up a big meal for him.”

You smile back at him. He always knows what to say. He walks into the kitchen to dispose of the contents in the dustpan, and you to your room to release Max before rejoining each other in the hall.

“Ready to go, my little chef?” 

You roll your eyes at him with feigned annoyance as you take his hand. 

“Let’s go, Peña.”

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #fluff #javier pena fluff #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javi pena #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #pickled peña #pickledpeña writing challenge #writing challenge #narcos #pedro pascal fluff #javier pena angst #javier peña x reader #javier pena fic #javier pena x you #javi p #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic

[7-wonders]

In Waking Hours

Roommate!Calliope & GN!Reader (platonic)

Summary: Calliope's planning to enjoy a nice, quiet evening sitting outside under the moon and enjoying her relative freedom when she sees you still haunted by a particularly brutal nightmare. Plans change, because she's not about to let you face the worst parts of her former husband's realm alone, obviously.

Word count: 3.6k

A note from the author: (You don't have to, but you'll have a lot more backstory if you read To the world we dream about first)

Shitty summary but you have a nightmare and Calliope's like "well this is my emotional support human so I can't not help!" WOW this is the first time I've felt truly inspired when writing in months. S/o Calliope girl hope I'm doing you proud by giving you the stories and love you deserve.

So, I know that this isn't going to get a lot of love since there's no actual Morpheus in this, just mentions which means my normal tags can’t be used, but I love this little fic-verse I've created so much that I have to write it. (All this is to say please show this fic some love if you enjoyed!!!) This isn't romantic, but there are definitely romantic fics in the pipeline. The nice thing about a loose fic-verse is that there are plenty of fics for you to read if you don't want an eventual throuple :)

(But hopefully there will be plenty of fics for you to read if you do want an eventual throuple)

I would be remiss to not shout out the reason this fic-verse exists in the first place and the person that I can talk about any and every random fic idea with, the lovely @ivandra-winters! Thank you, thank you, thank you for everything.

Calliope doesn’t really sleep well anymore.

Not that she needs sleep in general. She’s a goddess, after all, and divine beings such as herself only sleep because they want to, because they feel like indulging in all the wonders available to them upon closing their eyes. Few things truly and regularly excite beings of myth, but the Dreaming is one of those few things. Only very rarely, such as in cases of extreme injury, do they need to sleep. Mostly, sleeping is a comfort, a way to pass the time.

In the early days of her imprisonment, after Erasmus Fry first captured her, Calliope thought that she would use sleep for both. Though her relationship with her husband had ended about as terribly as a relationship can end, the Dreamlord had never reneged on his promise to always give Calliope the sweetest of dreams. She would rest, then, and find a distraction and comfort in the Dreaming until someone, be it her sisters or her mothers or somebody seeking her favor, would save her.

Then, she found out all the terrible things one person can do to another while they’re unconscious.

Even though she’s now safe, the once-familiar action no longer comes easy to her. Almost every time she’s tried—and those have been few and far between—she wakes up in a panic before she can fall asleep enough to even make it to the Dreaming. When she closes her eyes, she sees them once more. Both of them, Fry and Madoc, taking what was never theirs in the first place. She feels their cruel, rough hands on her body, hears their voices demanding that she give them inspiration for their works. 

(Works that she wishes would be little more than drivel. But no, nothing inspired—forcefully or not—by her could ever be drivel. They’re wild successes every time, and so the men just continue to take take take until Calliope thinks that she has nothing left to give. But she does, because she is the Muse of Epic Poetry, and for as long as people still believe in her, she shall be a source of inspiration. And so she continues to be drained like a tree of its sap, an essence so integral to her being that she knows not who she is without it. Until one day, when Madoc returns to his home ranting and raving—and there is a knock at the door.)

Calliope’s been doing some reading on the device that you gave her, the one that’s like a digital library, and she believes she might have what today’s humans call Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The inability to sleep, the flashbacks, the ever-present hum of vigilance that still thrums under her skin and warns her that the threat might be just around the corner—it’s all there, and it’s all her. It’s humiliating to think about it as a possibility, and more humiliating still to see herself in the words written. 

Goddesses shouldn’t have trauma! They shouldn’t even be in a position where trauma could be inflicted on them! She misses the age when she was at her strongest, the age when people worshipped the very ground she walked on, dropping to their knees in reverence and begging for her gifts.

But that world is long gone, and Calliope has landed in a new one that is entirely foreign to her. Slowly, though, she likes to think that she’s adjusting. Since the night is long and sleeping is not an option for her at present, she finds other ways to pass the hours when the rest of the world rests. The 21st century is new and exciting, and there is much to catch up on. 

Not only is she learning more about this new world, but she’s also learning herself all over. There are hobbies that she gets to discover once more, enjoyments that she forgot were hers. She listens to music (music now is…very different from even a hundred years ago, but there have been some works that she enjoys) and reads—not just the books that tell her things about herself that she does not wish to hear, but she reads epics! And poetry! How she missed poetry; that special language so near and dear to her, the words of her most favorite patrons. She reads all that she can get her hands on, good and bad, for the simple pleasure of being able to read once more.

Oftentimes, she simply enjoys the quiet at night. She basks in the knowledge that she can do what she wants, when she wants, with nobody lording over her or imposing their will. Yes, she is still technically bound to a human, but that is a non-issue. Calliope knows with absolute certainty that you have no idea of who she is or what Richard Madoc had done when he declared that she was your problem now.

She likes living with you, though it has been an adjustment being what you call a ‘roommate’ instead of a captive. Whereas the two men (if such brutes can be referred to as men) had been the worst of humanity, she finds humanity endearing when she sees it through your lens. How can she not develop a fondness for you, with how earnestly you try to include her in your life and make her feel like she belongs? 

There is also some level of comfort to be gained from the blissful ignorance you live in, the way that you believe your world to be black-and-white with no potential of the things you were taught to be nothing more than myths and stories. To you, such tales don’t exist—Calliope, the Muse, doesn’t exist—and Calliope, the woman, feels that she is able to let her guard down for the first time in a long, long time.

At times, she can feel your desperation for some sort of inspiration, lost as you attempt to complete your studies. It is comforting to know that you have no idea the being that you now share a home with. It is even more comforting to know that she has the choice of whether to grant you some inspiration or not. 

Tonight, Calliope decides for herself once more, and thinks that she would rather like to sit outside on the patio and enjoy the late night. With her mind made up, she sneaks out of her bedroom with a blanket in one hand and a book in the other.

“Oh!” Calliope gasps in surprise, startled upon seeing a figure sitting on the couch. 

Moonlight shines through the curtains that were most definitely closed a few short hours ago and illuminates your face staring out at the dark. She relaxes, but her fear immediately shifts to concern upon seeing what look to be tear tracks drying on your face.

“Hey. I’m sorry.” Just as she suspected, your voice is thick with tears. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Do not apologize,” she lightly chastises you. “Are you alright?”

You nod and use your sleeve to wipe under your eyes. “Yeah.”

It’s obvious that you’re planning on leaving it at that, which simply won’t do. Calliope levels you with a stare (a ‘mom stare,’ you teasingly referred to it as the first time she used it, without knowing how true your words were. One day, she thinks, she’ll tell you about Orpheus. Once the pain of losing him stops hurting so much) that you try your hardest to act unaffected by. You sigh after a moment, knowing that the fight is lost.

“I had a nightmare,” you admit. “And like, I’m not a little kid anymore. So why did this nightmare scare me so badly that I literally woke up and jumped out of bed in fear?”

Well, that explains why she heard a noise of surprise from your room, followed by a loud thump. She assumed that you hadn’t yet gone to bed, that you were up late finishing a project or just plain procrastinating your sleep. Why your late night required what sounded like the moving of furniture was beyond her. But no, instead, you’ve found yourself at the whims of a nightmare. 

Nightmares are not something that Calliope has a lot of experience with. She’s met nightmares, of course. With how much time she spent in the Dreaming, it was a foregone conclusion that she met a nightmare or two. And when they weren’t performing their duties, a lot of them were really quite nice!

(The only nightmare she truly could not stand was her former husband’s most beloved creation—The Corinthian. He…creeped her out, for lack of a better term. It wasn’t just the ocular mouths, though those were also chill-inducing. Rather, it was his entire demeanor. Like he was simply playing nice, biding his time before he could go in for the kill. She was glad to have never seen him again after the end of her marriage.)

But has Calliope ever actually dealt with a nightmare? The lives of immortals are long (obviously), and while she may have once had nightmares when she was very young, it was so long ago now that she can’t remember any particulars. Even when her own son was young, nightmares were not truly a concern. Though she and Morpheus had mutually agreed that he needed to sleep like a normal child at least sometimes in order to aid in his development, the very first time his little brow creased and frightened whimpers began to well in his throat, that decision was quickly forgotten in favor of comforting the boy and assuring him that nightmares would harm him no longer.

So, while it’s true that she does not have much experience with nightmares, what little experience she has had helps her to know just how frightening they can be—and how frightened it’s made you. 

“Would talking about it make you feel better?” Calliope asks.

You shake your head resolutely, determined to keep your fears to your chest. “I don’t remember it anymore.”

For many mortals, dreams and nightmares do not follow them out of the Dreaming. They may remember snippets of it, or certain emotions, but often, they fade away in the few hazy moments after waking. It’s pretty obvious that this isn’t the case for you, however. You continue to hold yourself tense, as though whatever had troubled you while you slept would reappear at any moment. Calliope has also seen you deep in thought a couple of times now, and the way you were looking outside when she first stepped out of her room was the same way she had seen you look when trying to complete schoolwork or focus on making something complicated. 

Up until now, you’ve tried so hard to always be positive and to make your home and yourself as comforting as possible so that Calliope may have the best possible environment to heal. She appreciates it—this new life she’s found herself in has truly been conducive to recovery—but now, she struggles to watch you try to keep up this facade so as not to lay your upsets upon her. She wishes that you would, though; that you would feel like you can confide in her the same way that you have made her feel towards you. After all that you’ve done for her, you deserve to feel like you have gained a friendship. 

Calliope will let you keep your secrets, then, even though this means that particular avenue of help is closed—she will not force you to do anything that you do not want to do. She moves on to Plan B, into the kitchen where she fumbles around until finding the kettle. Filling it with water, she places it on a burner and turns the stove on. Though she’s still not very confident around newer inventions like kitchen appliances, she’s proud of the fact that she’s slowly learning.

At the sounds, you peek up from the couch. “What are you doing?”

“What you’ve done for me when I find myself particularly upset,” she says, fetching two mugs from the cupboard.

“You’re making me tea?” Your voice sounds strangled, as though you can’t imagine why she would be providing you this small comfort.

You first started making tea for Calliope on the night that she technically became ‘yours.’ After locking herself in the bathroom and scrubbing her skin raw under the stream of hot water until she was sure that every inch of her body was clean from the DNA of another, she spent an interminable amount of time just enjoying the knowledge that she was now safe. While it was true that you were still practically a stranger, she had lived for long enough now and had honed her gifts well enough to be able to get a good read of a person’s intentions.

From the moment that she met you, you held none of the same ill will as the others. No, your immediate concern had been making sure that she was warm. When was the last time somebody cared for how she felt? She watched intently as you grabbed a coat from your vehicle, sure that, at any moment, your intentions toward her would change. Though she didn’t believe that she had the power (both strength and will) to fight you off, she would not be caught off-guard if it came to that.

But it never did. You simply wanted to make sure that she was out of harm’s way. You concluded on your own that whatever had happened to her in that house, at the hands of the man you called your professor, was horrific. To you, Calliope was a woman, battered and scared, with nothing to her name and nowhere to go. It was the obvious option to offer her food and shelter, to ensure her safety, simply because it was the right thing to do.

Still, even after your show of immense kindness, she did not want to face you, for some part of her was waiting for the inevitable. When you would demand the use of her gifts, wanting inspiration and fame and power and riches. She was dreading the potential that you were simply another human wanting to take take take. So she waited until the water ran cold and she was shivering. Even then, it took until she physically could stand the water no longer for her to finally make slow moves to get ready to leave the bathroom. Toweling herself off and putting on the borrowed clothes (clothes that actually covered her skin, so much more than the satin slips that she had been granted by her former captors) could only take so long, so with a heavy sigh, she steeled herself and opened the door.

There was no sign of you, however, and a quick glance at the light from under the closed door of one bedroom indicated that you were inside. The only sign of life that proved that you were once in this space was a plate and a mug sitting on the counter. When Calliope cautiously got closer, she saw a note next to them. 

“Made you some dinner and tea. I’ve always been told that tea (or your preferred hot beverage of choice) can do wonders for making you feel better, and I’ve found that to be true a few times now. Sweet dreams!”

Your name was signed at the end, along with what looked like a drawing of a smile.

Aware of the very real possibility that this could be a trap—Fry, after all, had first tried to woo her before taking what he believed to be his by force—she hastily grabbed the ceramicware and made off to the room that you had called hers. She had no real need for food, of course, nor for bathing. But they were those same creature comforts that not even the gods were above, and beyond sporadic, cold baths, they were creature comforts she had been denied for over sixty years. Calliope would take any that she could get, especially when they were (seemingly) freely given. Unfortunately, she was not in a position to spurn such gifts right now.

These gifts kept coming, without an expectation of anything in return from her. She was free to take whatever she wanted, go anywhere she liked, do anything she wished. And you were always there to cheer her on and encourage her, with a smile on your face and (when she wanted it) tea in hand.

“‘Make’ should perhaps be used loosely.” She smiles sheepishly, back in the present as the kettle begins to warm. “Depending on how much of your help I shall need after the water boils.”

You wrap a blanket around yourself and make your way to Calliope. “Then we’ll make it together.”

After the tea has been successfully prepared and you’re both settled back on the couch with a large blanket shared between you, Calliope asks, “Do you have nightmares often?”

“Not like when I was little. I was one of those kids that had night terrors, y’know?” She doesn’t know, because she has never heard of them more beyond being mentioned in passing when she was still wife to Dream of the Endless, but she nods regardless. “Apparently, I would just scream and shake until I ran out of breath and woke myself up.”

“I am so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. Like most kids with night terrors, I never remembered them.” You take another sip from your mug. “This is good tea, by the way.”

“You are the one that determined when the tea was done steeping.”

“Yeah, but you boiled the water, which is an integral part of tea-making.” You smile at her, the first smile she’s seen from you tonight, and it makes her feel a little better, like she’s doing something right. “So well done.”

You fall quiet, having said what you wanted to say regarding your nightmare and choosing instead to enjoy your tea. Though you’re content with companionable silence, Calliope is not. She feels like she should be doing more to help you, to comfort you. Caring for another, helping someone to feel better, does not come easily to her like it once did. She has been burned for too long now, that caring nature snuffed out early on in her imprisonment. But slowly, like the first blades of grass pushing back through the soil of a blackened landscape after a wildfire, new life has started to grow in the middle of this scorched area of her heart. She wants to help you, to care for you. 

She wants to make you feel better.

“My younger sister, Thalia, is far better at this than I,” Calliope admits with a sigh.

“Better at what?”

“At cheering people up.” 

Indeed, Thalia did not preside over comedy for no reason. Many times over the years that she’s been unwillingly away from her family, Calliope found herself wishing that Thalia would be right next to her. She loves all of her sisters equally, but Thalia would have effortlessly known what to say or told an anecdote that would have made her imprisonment easier. Perhaps it would have even given her the extra strength needed to truly fight and find a way out.

You bump Calliope’s shoulder with your own. “You’ve done a really good job of that yourself, Cal.” 

She feels her chest warm, both at the compliment and the term of endearment. Somewhere along the way, you (and your friends, who are just as kind and welcoming to her as you have been) adopted a nickname for her. This is new for her—prior to her imprisonment, she was Calliope, eldest of the Muses Nine, Beautiful-Voiced, Chief of All Muses. She has always been Calliope. But now, sometimes she is Callie, or Cal. Those who call her this do not know that they are in the presence of a goddess, that she should be commanding the respect that she deserves from mortals who believe her one of them.

Instead, she finds that she loves having a nickname.

“You have…eight sisters, right?” you ask.

“Yes. Thalia is the second youngest.” Calliope has only spoken about her sisters in the most vague of ways, hesitant to reveal too much. Telling you the names of a sister or two certainly won’t hurt.

“It must be so much fun when you’re all together.”

Calliope smiles wistfully, feeling that familiar pang of homesickness. “It is. There are lots of laughs shared, and we all leave with enough stories to last until we see one another again.”

It hits her almost as soon as the words leave her mouth: There is something that she can do to help. She can do what she does best, that which is her chief function. She can tell you a story. Already the words come to her, the tale writing itself within her, nestled right at the hollow of her throat, and just waiting for her to speak it aloud. Her inspiration, her gift, is used on herself for the first time in a long time, and as her mind goes to work, she remembers why it is that she is so coveted. It feels intoxicating to think up a story once more, to be inspired to create. It’s an old feeling, one that was once so familiar to her, that it feels quite like a homecoming for her to be experiencing it once more.

“Have I ever told you of the wager that Thalia and our sister Mel once had?” she asks, baiting you.

You look at her curiously and take said bait. “No.”

Calliope smiles, feeling her power hum within her as, for the first time in a long, long time, she prepares an epic of her own. “Well, it started one summer…”

•••

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#the sandman #the sandman imagine #calliope the sandman #calliope the sandman imagine

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not reacting/cheering for my aunt and her kids?

I (24F) am in an extended family groupchat. I usually do not have time to actually read all the messages, much less to write anything. I often open it and skim through the messages and everyone can see I've read them. Sometimes I do participate if it is a topic I can help with (I can usually help with plant related stuff, and I often jump right into a debate when I catch my aunties falling for facebook lies about ingredients or things like that)

Anyway, at one point my grandmother said that one of my aunts (35ish? I really don't know, sorry) was really sad I was not interacting with her messages at all. And while it wasn't intentional, it was true. I scrolled back to see what I've said to whom, and I never interacted with that aunt. But it wasn't because I did not like her, it was just... I had nothing to respond. I honestly do not care about her family having a trip to the zoo, what she had for lunch and I really did not watch 5 minute videos of her kid (2nd grade) playing football. So I just did not respond, because I had nothing to say and I wasn't interested. Besides, my other aunts interacted plenty with her, so I never thought I should be obligated to respond.

Anyway, I am usually fueled by spite, and my grandmother pointing that thing out had the opposite effect - I stopped interacting with the groupchat at all, even when I did have the time and something to say. I contemplated just leaving the groupchat, but I was tagged specifically one day to respond to something, so I stayed and tried to be nicer, just by leaving emoji's to that aunt's messages. However, life is life, and my efforts soon were forgotten because I just... don't have the energy.

However, one day, my aunt posted a facebook link to a post from a geography competition. And I was pretty sure my cousin (her son) won something, and I even opened the link, but there was a long list of kids and I just didn't bother to find my cousin's name there, so I, once again, did not react.

A day later my grandmother sent me the same facebook link and said my aunt would be happy if I reacted to the message in the groupchat. Which I think is ridiculous? Especially because the kid isn't even in the groupchat, and only his mother would see it? Anyway, I kind of got in a fight with my grandma about that, saying no one ever praised me as a kid for winning competitions, especially the same aunt who now feels bad for me not cheering her and her son on. So, I did not react to the message and once again went mostly silent in the groupchat.

But overall, I feel like I am the asshole for not being interested in the lives of my relatives and their kids. It really is not that hard to engage in groupchat conversations, right? However, I don't really want to act like I am interested, while I am not at all. Maybe I am cold hearted for not caring about their holiday trips, work/school events and minor health problems (eg someone having a fever).

However, to defend myself, I was actually very busy during the described events. I worked and studied full time (it is hell don't do it) (graduating soon though yeehaw), and most messages I read while walking from one point to another, skimmed through in the evenings before bed or when I was waiting in a queue for something. Moreover, the said aunt never has expressed any interest in my life, so I did not feel any obligation to be interested in her life. However, I never also said to anyone how I was doing, and no one really knew I was dying from exhaustion most of the time, so they probably assumed I was just... specifically being a dick.

So was I? Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole