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onlymexsarah · 7 months ago

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Burning Flames II || Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!reader Summary: Since you became High Fae there were only two things that scared you: your deadly power and your attraction toward the male you should hate most after Tamlin, Eris Vanserra. Warnings: mention of war, death and my english A/n: I'm so happy that your are liking this story! There will be more chapters, but I still have to decide how many. If you want to keep up with the story and want to get added to the taglist just ask! Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

The war was a mess. The smell of blood and death was making Eris sick. He was fighting with both his sword and his power, determined to end every Hybern's soldier that ended in front of him.

His brothers were fighting as well around him, his father too, thank the cauldron. Eris didn't know what he would have done if his father refused to fight for Prythian. Probably his plan to become the new High Lord of the Autumn Court would have seen light sooner than expected.

It was foolish to hope that maybe his father would find his end here in battle, but still it was one more motivation to stay alive and fight until the end.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, something inside his chest stirred. He wondered for a moment if a soldier had managed to slice him in the ribs, but when he looked down he saw that no blade had come close to his chest.

It felt like a string was attached to his ribs, and it urged him to run toward the forest at his right. Eris grunted as he started to make his way throught the battlefield, following the invisible string that was now yelling at him to move faster.

A sense of terror fell over him as he crept closer, as he started to be afraid to know what, or who, laid at the end of that string.

He knew it before he heard you.

"Elain, run!" your voice pierced throught the forest like a fallen star in a clouded sky. He had dreamed of that voice longer than he liked to admit.

His quick eyes scanned around him, searching for any trace of you. Suddenly the smell of burned flesh hit his nose and his legs moved on their own. He had never run this faster in his life. He knew where you were, and he knew you were fighting. Alone.

As soon as he arrived he saw burning flames blinding his eyes for a moment. Then, among them, he saw you, without any armor and with what he recognized as an Illyrian blade at your side, untouched. Around you there were six Hybern's soldiers, sneering at you.

"The King want her alive!" one of them said as you tried to aim at them with your fire. "knock her off!"

It had happened so fast that Eris was still running before he could stop it. A soldier run around you and sliced your leg with his blade. Your yell of pain cracked something inside Eris as he saw your flames going out all at once while you fell on the ground.

Faebane.

Eris saw red. Two soldiers had their hands on your arms, twisting them behind your back. As soon as he was close enough his fire errupted all around him, burning completely the four Hybern's soldiers that circled you while he took his blade in his hand and looked at the two who were still holding you.

"I suggest you to leave her." Eris' voice was as cold as death. He barely register that your head snapped up and watched him surprised.

One of the soldiers snickered and held your arm thighter behind you, making you hiss in pain. "Your father should have bowed to our king when he had the chance."

"Your king should have never came here." was Eris' response before he launched himself at them. Two soldiers were no match for someone with his battles experience. He could have ended them quickly, but he inteded to make them suffer for what they were trying to do.

He took away their swords with little effort, then he gripped their neck with both his hands and watched as they screamed while his fire burned them from the inside out.

When the burned bodies of the soldiers fell down lifeless he took a moment to enjoy what he had done, and then a grunt behind him made him turn on his heels. There you were, trying to use your sword to stand up on your good leg while the other fell useless at your side.

"Let me help." Eris said towering you and offering you his hand. He saw how your eyes stared at his hand for a moment, as if deciding if spit on it or take it. "Don't worry, I won't bite you while there is still a war I need to win out there."

His ironic voice made your eyes snap in his and...cauldron boils him. As you finally decided to take his hand and let him help you to stand up Eris felt like someone punched him in the gut. He was short of breath, his sight darkened all around him until the only thing he could see was you, and only the Mother knew how beautiful you were.

Your hair had been tied in a long braid behind your head, leaving your face in full display for him to admire. Your flushed cheeks, your brown, warm eyes behind which he knew hid a deadly, beautiful power.

Mate.

You were his mate, and he was yours.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Every inch of his body yelled at him those words. He could feel his soul twisting and jumping, finally relieved to have found their other one.

Eris hadn't realized how long he had stared at you because at some point you took your hand away from his abruptly, the same hand you had seemed to lingered in his for a bit too long, and scoffed. "Don't you have a war to win?"

His brain needed a second to function normally again. You were watching him cautiously, and he realized that the bond hadn't snapped for you. No, it had snapped for him because you were in danger, but the bond had no reason to snap for you.

A feel of protectiveness grew inside him as he watched your bloody leg while you ripped a piece of your cloak and wrapped it around your injury.

"Unfortunately, I can't let a lady in distress walk alone in the middle of a battlefield." he said taking back control of himself and using his casual, mocking voice.

You looked at him with the same defiancing eyes that had him almost kneel when you had watched his father like that during the High Lords meeting.

"I'm not a lad-" your voice stopped abrutply as your eyes widened, looking around you.

"What's wrong?" he murmure quietly, a hand ready on his sword trying to sense any threat.

You just slowly looked around one more time, one of your hand closed thightly over your chest, holding your cloak close as if you were suddenly cold. "The cauldron is here." you said slowly as Eris watched you carefully. "He is watching. He is..." your eyes widened again, snapping toward a direction deeper in the forest. "Nesta!"

And then you run.

***

You ran like your life depended on it. Your eyes were completely watered, you weren't sure if it was from the pain in the leg or the dreadly sensation that the Cauldron made you feel for your sister. You barely saw what was in fron of you, some branches hit your face, some roots made you almost fall.

When you reached your sister your blood froze. The King of Hybern was standing in front of Nesta, Cassian was laying behind her with his wings broken and legs shuttered. They were fighting, but you saw that Nesta was only buying time.

You would not stand there and watch her die. You took a step toward them, ready to yell at the King and bring his attention on you, but suddenly a big hand covered you mouth, pushing you back against someone's chest.

You tried to break free from his grip but he was stronger and pushed you to the ground until you were both kneeling behind a bush.

"It's me, calm down." as the male whispered in your ear you recognized Eris' voice. His other arm was firmly around your waist, keeping you against his chest as he was kneeling right behind you.

For a moment you were confused. Why had Eris followed you? The King of Hybern was right in front of you, the smartest choice would have been to run and go back to the battlefiel with his soldier, so why was he there?

You tried to break free again from his hand on your mouth, but he only pressed it tighter. "What do you think you are doing?" He whispered almost angryly. "You are without power. You can't defeat him."

You brought both your hands on his and pulled it away from your mouth to be able to speak. "He is going to kill my sister." you whispered firmly, turning your head slightly toward him. You had to rose your eyes to met his, and he was already looking at you with an intensity you had never seen. "Let. Me. Go."

"No." Eris sneered almost angrier that you had suggested it. "I won't let you get yourself killed."

"Why do you care?" You almost said out loud, angry at him and looking back at your sister. "My sister needs-"

The words died in your throat as your eyes had shifted on Nesta again and lying few feet behind the King you saw a body. A human, male body. Dead. Lifeless.

Your father.

A pained cry escaped your mouth as Eris quickly blocked it with his hand again. Your hands grabbed his wrist, but not to take away his hand, but to hold it tighter.

Your father's neck was angled at an unnatural angle; his glassy eyes open, staring in front of him. Your father was dead.

Eris hold you tighter against his body as you realized you were shivering with sobs. Had he recognized the body? Had he made the connection? You didn't care, because he held you nevertless.

As you gribbed his wrist as your life depened on it you started to feel something grow inside you. Rage. Anger. Hatred. All of them directed to the King of Hybern who was now standing in front of Nesta and Cassian, both on the ground holding to each other, ready to die.

And you couldn't accept that.

You bite Eris' hand. His surprised and distraction enough for you to stand up and running away from him, toward the king. You were ready with your sword in your hand to kill him, but someone appeared from the shadows behind the King and stabbed a black blade in his throat.

Elain.

"Don't you touch my sister." Elain hissed in the King's ear as he fell on his knees.

You met Nesta's eyes, and with a silent nod you both put your hands on the hilt of the blade and twisted it in the King's neck.

When you turned around to search for Eris, he was already gone.

***

Feyre called the meeting in your old house, and you had prepared everything in just two days. The chairs, the benches, the pillows and everything else that could allow people to sit or stand comfortably through a meeting that surely would last many hours.

To your surprise Beron was the first to arrive. He didn't acknowledge you or Feyre, but he came; that was the important thing. And with him he brought Eris.

You had not seen him since the battle, and somehow you had felt a little disappointed. You had expected...what? That he would seek you out after the battle? He surely had more important things to do, and the farest away you stayed from him the better.

He had saved your life, sure, but it didn't change the type of person he was. The type of person that had made the Night Court hate him for five centuries.

As soon as he entered you had tried to keep your breathing normal. Eris had a brutal slice down his cheek and neck, full of bruises all over his face that made you understand he had went back fighting when he had disappeared.

Worry run through your blood as you saw in what state he was, but you told yourself you were tired, that your father death had brought you to worry for everyone else. You had tired yourself until blankness those days to help the injured, to keep your mind busy, because everytime you stopped doing something the tears came back.

And now, seeing Eris like that made you wondered why he hadn't gone to see a healer. The slice looked back, and a primal sensation grew inside you, needing to help him to heal.

As Nesta showed them where they would sit you tried to push away all those thoughts, telling yourself that you were just confused by the war. But as father and son sat down on their chairs, Eris looked briefly toward you, as he had alwayd known where you were standing, and something flickered in his eyes, Something you couldn't decifer.

You found yourself lost for a moment in those deep amber eyes, but as Mor's figure entered your peripheral view you adverted your eyes, focusing on the next people that enetered the house, giving them a warm smile and gesturing them to their seats.

When the meeting started you stood at Feyra's right, while Nesta stood at her left. Elain had decided to stay away from unwanted attention, but as the only humans who had ever been Made, the three of you stood at the center, rappresenting the perfect middle between High Fae and humans.

People shared their stories, humand and Fae alike. They shared their lives, Feyre told hers, and you had to close your eyes to not cry in front of everyone for what she had been throught. Your little sister, alone in the Fae world had died, and you had risked to lose her forever had it not been for Rhysand and the other High Lords.

You clenched your hands tight in front of you. You would not tell your story. Not yet. Not to everyone. Every choice had been taken away from you since a long time, and even if it sounded extremely selfish, your first choice would be to keep your story for yourself.

The stories you heard were all about the same. Loss and deaths. Loss and deaths in all form and ways. All of the stories might start differently, but they all ended the same. With this war. With someone dead.

And for a moment your eyes fell on Eris again, who was listening carefully every story. You could have easily been part of that stories of death. Your sister might have had to tell the story of how you had died if it hadn't been for him. He had chosen to not let it happen. You couldn't understand why, but he still had. And even if he was a horrible person, you owed him.

His eyes never met yours during the entire night, and something inside you told you he was doing it on purpose. He was avoiding your gaze.

As the meeting come to an end you felt the physical need to talk to him, and it terrified you. You had met him just twice, and talked to him once. It didn't make sense that you wanted to talk to him, but you told yourself it was because he had saved your life. Yes, that was it.

As soon as the people left the house you put the hood of your cloak on your head and followed silently, never loosing sight of the redhead few rows in front of you. You needed to find him away from his father and his brothers, or it would have been extremely awkward.

But one you were alone with him what would you do? Thank him? Ask him why he saved you? Telling him you were extremely confused because the Inner Circle always pictured him as an arrogant, selfish asshole while he had no esitated to save you and stop you from getting killed from the King of Hybern?

Fuck it, you had lost him. You had a vague idea of where the Autumn Court's camp was, but you didn't dare to walk too close to it knowing damn well that their High Lord didn't like you at all.

"Tell me, is it hard for you to stay out of trouble or you find it funny?" a deep voice said behind you making you jump. You turned around and saw Eris hid in the shadows of two tents. "You made a fool of my father at the High Lords meeting, you should stay away from his soldiers."

You took a step closer to him and lowered the hood from your head as you rose your chin looking at him cautiously. "I was looking for you."

Eris didn't hide the surprise on his face. "Why?"

Yeah, why? Your eyes fell on the ugly scar on his face. "You saved my life." You said quietly. "Let me repay the debt by curing you."

He rose an eyebrow, looking at you suspiciously. "Didn't your watch dogs warn you about what a bad guy I am?"

You rolled your eyes and let a bright flame appeared on your hand as you walked closer to him. "I can handle myself, thanks for your concern." You saw him tensing as you stepped closer and you let a sigh. "If I wanted to kill you I wouldn't do it in the middle of a war camp."

Eris' eyes locked in your with an annoyed look. "And, pray tell, how can you cure what other healers couldn't?"

You ignored how his deep voice sent shivers down ypur spine, telling yourself it was for the cold air. "My fire has healing properties. I don't think there is something that my cauldron's gift can't cure." You gestured with a finger to turn his head to one side.

"Have you ever done it before?" he asked uncertain.

You took a deep sigh feeling your patience running out. "Are you always so difficult with people who want to help you?"

"Only if they are pretty." he grinned with a wink.

A sudden need to slap him grew inside you, with something else that you carefully ignored. "Last chance to turn your head or I'll let that ugly scar leave a mark on your face for the rest of your life."

His grin grew wider but, thank the cauldron, he turned his face to one side and shut his mouth. You brought the little flame that glow in your left hand close to his scar while with your other hand grabbed his chin gently. "It won't hurt, just tickle."

He tensed under your touch, and you wondered if in five hundred years someone, beside his mother, had ever showed him kindness. You mentally slapped yourself. Those were dangerous thoughts. From the stories you had heard Eris had never showed kindness himself, so why someone should be kind to him? You were only fufilling a debt, nothing more.

Standing so close he towered you with little effort, and you almost had to go on your tip toes to reach his cheek. For a moment you wondered how many people had stood so close to the heir of Autumn and didn't get hurt, but you pushed those thoughts away.

Your flames dances around his scar for few seconds before it started to heal in front of your eyes. As soon as it was healed completely you took a quick step back, putting distance between your bodies.

"Done." you said clearing your throat.

He touched his healed skin with his fingers silently before bringing his eyes on you. "Thank you." he gave you a nod.

You nodded back politely as your mind started to gather all the reasons why you should leave and forget about him as soon as possible. The list was extremely long. "Good night, Eris."

You put your hood back on and turned on your heels, ready to leave when his voice stopped you. "My tent is at the east side of our camp. I sleep there with my soldiers and they have a strict order to not hurt anyone." You looked over your shoulder, confused by his words. "If you ever need something, come there. You'll be safe."

You didn't hide the confusion on your face, but gave him a nod and thanked him quickly before walking away in the dark.

Eris was dangerous; his encinting amber eyes were dangerous; his silky voice was dangerous; his whole body was dangerous, and not because it was lethal on a battlefield, but because it made you forget every horrible action he had ever did. Only by looking at him you had almost dreamed things that would never be possible, and it terrified you.

For the next days you never placed foot again near the Autumn's camp, and Eris never sought you out.

tag: @adventure-awaits13

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra #autumn court #acotar #rhysand #cassian #night court #velaris #sarah j maas #azriel #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #acowar #elain archeron

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fanfickittycat · 6 months ago

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Gimmie, Gimmie, Gimmie

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Synopsis: When you and Sylus come across a pair of Aether core necklaces, dreams and reality start to blend together.

AKA a necklace makes you both star in each other’s wet dreams

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Love and Deepspace

Pairing: Sylus x MC/Sylus x Reader

Read on AO3 | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

“And this one?” You pointed to the emerald cut rock resembling a protocore.

“You have a good eye!” The merchant grinned, as he began spinning lies to you about how rare it was. You knew it was a fake without even touching it, but you held off from correcting him immediately and instead pretended to listen. You could feel a strange sense of excitement bubble in you as you got ready to test the merchant, but a familiar rush of energy behind you put that excitement on pause, and you watched as the shopkeeper’s voice faltered. His face became ashen, as he looked above your head, and you could see the blurry reflection of a dark, imposing figure and red eyes bounce off the larger crystals behind him.

“I thought I told you to stop doing that” you said, not bothering to turn around as you examined the other pieces of jewellery.

“Do what?” His breath is warm against the shell of your ear and you can feel the tickle of his silver hair against you.

“To stop looming over my shoulder like that” you turn slightly only to be met with an amused smile “you’re ruining my investigation.”

“… Investigation?” The merchant choked out but you both ignored him.

“Maybe I wanted to look around too, did that ever occur to you?” Sylus said, straightening up and putting his hands in his pockets casually. He was at least a head taller than you and he never failed to remind you of that.

You scoffed and crossed your arms“as if you’d shop here. There are so many fakes on display it’s probably not even worth it to you.”

“Now, hold on-“ the shopkeeper protested but it fell on deaf ears again.

Sylus shrugged “you can still find a diamond in the rough if you look hard enough.” He stepped from behind you to your side to look at the display case in front of him.

“Although…” his eyes glanced at the artificial gems “this selection is lacking.” His eyes flick up to the merchant whose face is flushed with embarrassment and fear.

“I- I did get something in this morning. Something real.” His hand lowers slowly to the vault behind him, as if asking for permission.

Sylus sighs “well go on then. Let’s see it before Miss Hunter here brings you to justice.” He only chuckles softly when you elbow him in the side.

You both watch as the shopkeeper produces two small vermillion boxes. He opened them up, carefully unwrapping the layers of tissue paper to reveal a matching pair of necklaces, both holding a crimson stone. Your eyes widen as you feel the energy emitting from them.

“Is this…?” Your eyes transfixed “part of an Aether core?”

“My, my, I certainly wasn’t expecting that” Sylus murmured, equally dazzled by the pair of necklaces.

You couldn’t help but let your fingers reach forward to feel the smooth stone on one of the chains. It glowed in response to your touch, and the other mimicked it.

“Legend has it that a pair of lovers separated by the Great War crafted it so that they could always remain close to one another despite being physically apart. It’s rumoured that if your connection is strong enough, you can achieve a psychic connection like none other.”

You can practically hear Sylus raise an eyebrow at that.

“Wait” you frown “I know that myth, it’s from thousands of years ago. Surely this can’t be the same pair of necklaces.”

“What if it is?” Sylus asked, touching one of the stones and watching the other glow “stranger things have happened.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow “I didn’t take you for a fantasist.”

“Even I have capacity for romantic notions” he smiles at you fondly, making your cheeks flush. “How much for it?”

Just as the shopkeeper opens his mouth to answer you interrupt “I think it would be best for everyone if you just handed these over.” You looked squarely at the shopkeeper “I know the Hunter’s Association are looking for you - dead or alive.”

“Well played” Sylus murmured to you, looking at you with admiration whilst the merchant was left with no choice but to agree and pack the necklaces away.

Outside the market you prepared to bid Sylus a goodnight, and thanked him for taking you to the N109 Zone’s night market.

“Oh wait” you fished the Aether core necklace out from its pouch “come here.” He turns and approaches you, smiling when you roll your eyes and gesture for him to come closer.

“A kiss goodbye?” He teases and you try to subtly swallow to remoisten your dry mouth.

“You wish.” You fiddle with the clasp of one of the necklaces and loop it around his neck. The feeling of his cool skin wasn’t entirely foreign to you, but neither was it overly familiar. This was probably the closest your faces had ever been, though you had dreamt about it happening almost every week. The memories of your latest dream played in your mind, making you hastily click the necklace into place and pull away before his eyes could ascertain your desire.

“It suits you” you said, admiring the way the deep red tone sat against his pale flesh.

“Your turn.” And before you could blink he was holding the matching necklace in his hands. He swept the curtain of your hair over one of your shoulders as his fingertips ghosted the back of your neck, making you shiver.

“A ticklish Hunter? Isn’t that a liability?” He asked jokingly, only for you to huff in response. You could almost have sworn that his touch lingered but if you thought about it too much you were sure you would melt.

“There” he cupped his own pendant “now we match.” You gasped feeling the warmth of the gem against the delicate skin of your chest.

“This is purely scientific” you said, experimenting with holding your own Aether shard. The vibrations in your hand akin to a gentle purr.

“Oh, entirely” Sylus agreed “until next time Miss Hunter.”

It was well past midnight when you got home. The toll of the evening weighed on your shoulders, leading you to take a hot shower in an attempt to undo the knots in your back. Your mind wandered as you lathered up your body wash. The N109 Zone Night Market had yielded some promising leads on illegal protocore trade activity. You had some names and faces to run through the Hunters Association system when you went back to work on Monday, and you wanted to cross reference them with your notes from your last mission too.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you jolted when you felt the Aether core pendant react. Sylus? You gently stroked the stone, feeling a comforting warmth emanate from it. Was he thinking of you? Or just touching the stone? He had looked handsome tonight. Way too handsome. Every time you saw him you felt like you were being drawn in closer and closer to him. It felt dangerous. And exciting.

You could blame the heat of the water for the slightly dizziness but the way the warm sensation flooded south was something else entirely different. Your mind flickered through the moments you shared tonight. The way you could feel his tense muscles as you gripped him on the back of his motorcycle; the moment when he tricked you into trying a so called N109 Zone street food staple only for you to take a bite and hate it instantly, the sound of his laughter and the intoxicating way he slyly smiled and attempted to quell your annoyance by buying you a sweet treat instead, the way the moonlight had illuminated him softly…

Without even realising it, your hand had begun to wander toward your hardening nipples, imagining it was his fingers pinching the pebbled peaks. You pictured him kissing the point where your shoulder met your neck and whimpered at the thought. How good would it feel if he was pressed against you? Grinding his erection into your ass whilst he bit down on your shoulder. Would he sprinkle in all those little pet names he’d developed for you?

“Can’t wait to bury myself inside you kitten. Going to fuck you nice and deep like you deserve.”

You felt your breath hitch. Your fingers traversed downwards, running up and down your slit. Your mouth fell open.

RING RING

You frowned.

RING RING RING.

You groaned in frustration, hurrying out of the shower and towards your phone. Surely even Wanderers knew that they should give it a break at this time of night?! Your skin was still warm but you’d broken out in goosebumps from the sudden temperature difference. Your robe was tied way too loosely around you too, exposing your skin to the cool temperature of your room.

“H-hello?” You answered, you hadn’t realised that you were panting until you stood there. You attempt to clear your throat and repeat your greeting. You’re met with silence. You pull the phone away only to see it’s a hidden number.

“Who is this?” you hear the smallest sound, something akin to a breath and then the call ends. What a waste of time! You throw your phone down on your bed in frustration, and close your eyes for a couple of seconds. The call had interrupted your flow and you suddenly wanted nothing more than some instant ramen and your bed.

After changing into your pyjamas and indulging in some late night cup noodles (sorry Dr Zayne!), you settled into your night time routine and sighed in relief as you nuzzled into the latest plushie you’d won at the arcade. Sleep found you almost immediately, and you found yourself slipping into a dream almost instantly.

There had been problem after problem for the past couple of days, and whilst Sylus was happy to delegate tasks down to his underlings, there had been several particularly tricky issues which required his full attention.

‘So bothersome’ he thought, raking a hand through his hair, which no doubt, was a mess from the repeated action. The words had started to blur together a little and he took his glasses off momentarily to shut his eyes. Maybe he needed a break? The fire he had started when he first reached his study crackled in the fireplace, providing a source of warmth that was much needed on such a cold night. He resolved internally to at least work through the contract sitting on the top of the pile of paperwork on his desk before he called it quits, and put on the glasses again to scan through the fine print.

Not ten minutes later he heard a knock on the door.

“Enter.” He had expected it to be the twins, but blinked in surprise when you peeked your head around the door.

“You’re still awake?” Sylus’ expression softened as he set down the pen and leaned back on his dark chair.

“It’s hard to sleep when you’re not next to me. It’s so cold tonight.” You said, running a finger along his desk as you made your way towards him.

“Look” you shrugged off the silky robe he usually donned, letting the soft material pool on the hardwood floors at your feet.

“I have goosebumps.” You offered your bare arm up for him to inspect.

Sylus’ lips twitched, as his eyes hungrily drank in your near naked form. The crimson lingerie set he had seen in Linkon City just the other week had clearly stuck in his head more than he thought. The delicate lace of the bra looked so pretty against your skin; equal parts sensual and feminine. And despite you standing with only a small gap between your legs, he could already spy the silk framing the open crotch detailing of the panties.

“You do look chilly” he remarked, running his hand up your exposed arm before placing the palms of his hands on the back of your stocking clad thighs, urging you closer to him. You obliged, naturally, arching your back when his hands kneaded the flesh of your thighs and ass.

“Are you almost done with work?” You asked, your own hand finding his cheek to caress. His skin was still smooth from having shaved that morning.

Sylus sighs “hmmm not quite yet.” He pinches the top of his nose and closes his eyes for a second, before leaning into your touch.

“You’re tired” you murmur gently.

“I need to finish this.” He reluctantly nudges his glasses up the elegant bridge of his nose.

“You need a break” you chide and slip yourself in the gap between his form and the desk.

“Sweetie-“ but you interrupt him.

“Just ten minutes, Sy. Please?” He could never resist your puppy dog eyes.

“What do you suggest I should do?”

You lean in so that your noses are touching “leave it with me.”

You press your lips against his, silencing any doubt. He relaxed against your touch, letting your tongue languidly stroke his own as you mounted the chair to straddle him. He can already feel your molten core through his jeans as you begin to rock your hips experimentally against his own. It doesn’t take long for him to reciprocate, and you take it as an opportunity to pull your mouth away from his. He groans at the loss of your lips, which you drag to the column of his pale neck. You feels his heartbeat quicken when you ghost your teeth against his neck and playfully nip him.

“Harder” he urges, and you comply, sinking your teeth a little more into his skin to leave a mark. You lick at the same point as an almost apology, gasping quietly when he ramps up his thrusting. You’re soaking the denim of his trousers but he doesn’t care. He’s so focused on how your body quivers and pushes and pulls at his touch that he almost doesn’t notice you unbuckle his belt and slip a hand into his boxers.

Both of your eyes look downwards as you squeeze his length, running your hand up and down his dick.

“Fuck…” Sylus sighs. How long had he waited for this? He watches, hypnotised, as you spit into your hand and massage it into the head, just the way he likes.

“You’ve been working so hard lately” you murmur, continuing to work your hand up and down in a tantalisingly slow manner.

“I think my fiend deserves a treat for all his hard work.” Sylus tips his head back, closing his eyes as he becomes putty in your hands. He half opens them to watch you slip off the chair and onto your knees.

“What’re you doing kitten?” He mumbles, mourning the loss of your heat against his body.

“Shhhh” you reassure him before leaning forward to lick a stripe up his shaft. He groans as you press kisses onto his dick before opening your mouth and taking him inch by inch into your throat. One of his hands clutches your hair into a rough ponytail, whilst the other hovers at your jaw as he guides you to take more and more of him. The cavern of your mouth is hot and wet, and whilst he can feel your throat constrict you seem to want to take more of him.

“S-so good for me” he mumbles, and his thumb blots a tear running down your cheek.

“Ah, ah kitten, no need to get ahead of yourself” he gently chides, which naturally spurns you on more. Sylus’ head falls back again, mouth open as he shallowly thrusts into your throat. His eyes flicker open when he hears the wet sound of your fingers touching yourself as you pull back a little to concentrate on lavishing his length with your tongue.

“Fuck… is this turning you on, sweetie?” You hum in response and Sylus groans at the feeling of the vibration “mmm such a pretty little slut for me… taking me so deep in your throat like this. Ah- I guess I wasn’t the only one dreaming of this.” His grip on your hair tightens and you can tell from his desperate pants that he’s reaching his limit. You quicken your actions, ignoring how lewd you sound slobbering and choking on his dick. Your jaw aches but he’s so close that you can’t stop. Your own pussy clenches around nothing as you soak your thighs in your own arousal.

“Fuck I’m going to-!” You brace yourself for his cum to spurt down your throat, and-

RING RING RING

You groan and open your eyes as your alarm slowly pulls you out of sleep’s clutches. You lay there for several moments, half dazed as you acclimatise back to your surroundings. Your hand eventually silences the alarm but you struggle to move beyond looking at your phone blearily. You had slept all night but still felt tired. You made a half formed mental note to ask Dr Zayne why that was and moved the heel of your hand to your face to rub the sleep out of your eye.

Yawning hurts, you figure out very quickly, and you attempt to move your jaw a few times to loosen it. It aches. And your throat felt dry too. Were you sick? You slowly sit up and hiss at the slight grazes on your knees. Surely that wasn’t a symptom of a cold was it?

It’s only when you strip off your sweat soaked pyjamas for a shower that you notice that your underwear is soaked through and your thighs are slick. You shiver and observe your body in the mirror. It looks much the same but there are tell tale signs that something happened. Your sleepy mind tries to focus as you wash yourself but you can only concentrate on putting yourself through the motions of your morning routine.

Last night still lingers in your thoughts at work, though you choose to compartmentalise it for a later time. Your mornings are filled with training and you dispel some low level Wanderers who spawn on the edge of town, which makes it easier to forget but it becomes near impossible to ignore in the afternoon as you sit at your desk, rereading the last sentence of the report you just wrote.

“Here” a mug of something warm and citrusy is placed on your desk and you look up in surprise at Xavier.

“Thanks, how did you know?” You give the liquid a small sip, relishing its soothing warmth against your sore throat.

“Your voice sounds pretty bad. Are you sure you’re not sick?” Xavier’s hand touches your forehead as his blue eyes narrow.

“I’m fine. I think I just fell asleep last night without my blanket. I found it on the floor this morning, I must have kicked it off me at some point.”

“Were you dreaming?”

Images from your dream flood your mind and you look away, afraid your blush will reveal the nature of those dreams.

“Yeah” you cough awkwardly “I think I did but it’s a bit blurry.”

“Maybe you were fighting Wanderers” Xavier speculates “or trying to beat the claw machine again.”

“Ugh don’t remind me! I was so close to getting that Sunset Tomato!”

Xavier smiles and shakes his head “you’re at the arcade so much it’s making its way into your dreams. You should really take a break.”

“Maybe… Have you ever had a dream that felt real?”

You nervously look up at Xavier, half expecting him to be alarmed but he quietly considers your question instead.

“Hmmm… what do you mean ‘felt real’?”

“Like, it felt like you were there. Physically. As though your body and your spirit and everything wasn’t in your bed anymore but in a whole new environment.” Xavier’s face remains unchanged.

“Forget it” you quickly dismiss “dumb question.”

“Not necessarily. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a dream like that but I remember reading something a while ago online about astral projection. Maybe there’s something to it?”

Xavier’s words stick in your mind long after you leave work. Could you actually be astral projecting into Sylus’ dreams? You try to Google it but the results are either too vague or sound too unfounded for you to take seriously, and you certainly weren’t feeling confident about searching ‘Can you astral project into your sort of enemy sort of crush’s wet dream?’

That was another thing. The dream was definitely his which raised hundreds of other questions in its wake - did he like you too or was it just a coincidence that the dream starred you? Did he dream about you often? In similar positions? And what was with the lingerie? You had never seen something that toed the line between obscene and elegant before. Was that the kind of thing he liked? You glanced at the laundry you had just hung up to dry - black, plain, utilitarian underwear - maybe it was better for everyone if your affair remained in the dream sphere…

#love and deepspace #lads sylus #LADS #fanfic #love and deepspace fanfic #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #sylus x you #sylus smut

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pinkpurplesunrises · 18 days ago

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The Grogu Incident - the short story - Alexia Putellas x GroguObsessed!Reader

You were three dates in with Alexia Putellas.

Actual Alexia Putellas.

Which meant things were just starting to get dangerously good. The kind of good where her laugh made your stomach flip. Where you caught yourself smiling like a fool when she texted. And where you started imagining, like, joint vacations and matching pajama sets.

Tonight was the first time she came over to your apartment.

Nothing too dramatic. Just a chill night. Food. Netflix. Maybe some light flirting with the hope of things naturally escalating into a makeout session on the couch. You cleaned all day. Vacuumed. Wiped things down. Hid anything potentially humiliating...

Well. Almost everything.

There was one door you absolutely, 1000% planned to keep shut.

The “Grogu Room.”

Look, everyone has a Thing™. Some people collect records, others do yoga. You, unfortunately, were hopelessly obsessed with that tiny green alien baby from The Mandalorian.

Grogu was your son. Your soft, big-eared, Force-wielding son.

You didn’t just have one plushie. You had seven. And a limited-edition hoodie. And a framed print of him eating soup.

It was your comfort space. Your sacred little weird corner. And you were not about to let Alexia freaking Putellas know about it.

So of course, when she asked, “Where’s your bathroom?” you answered with blind confidence:

“Down the hall, first door on the left.”

Except. The bathroom was the second door on the left.

You realized it about five seconds too late. Just as you heard the distinct creak of that door opening.

Then: silence.

Then: “… Perdona?”

You sprinted down the hallway in horror.

There she was. Standing dead center in the Grogu Room. One brow arched, holding a plushie in one hand, and what looked like a Grogu-themed stress ball in the other.

You froze. She turned to look at you. Completely straight-faced.

“… Should I be worried?”

You felt your soul leave your body. “I... I can explain.”

Alexia looked around like she was inspecting a crime scene. “There’s a blanket fort in the corner.”

“It’s a meditation nook!”

“Is that a Grogu onesie hanging on the back of the door?”

“IT WAS A GIFT.”

She turned to you with an expression that fell somewhere between mild disbelief and utter amusement. “You hid a whole Grogu cult room from me.”

You groaned. “I didn’t want to scare you off! You’re Alexia Putellas! You’re, like, cool! And I’m over here collecting Star Wars merch like it’s a personality trait.”

There was a pause.

And then she grinned. “It is kind of ridiculous.”

You opened your mouth to respond but she walked over, Grogu plush in hand, and gently bopped you on the head with it. “But it’s also very, very you.”

You blinked. “… You’re not weirded out?”

“Oh, I am,�� she said with a teasing smile. “But in a cute way. Like… ‘I didn’t expect to walk into a life-sized Build-A-Bear Jedi temple tonight, but I’m kind of into it’ kind of way.”

You laughed, cheeks red. “So you’re staying?”

She nodded. “Obviously. I can’t wait to tell Patri and Mapi that my girlfriend has a Grogu army.”

You pretended to scowl. “We’re not an army. We’re a peaceful tribe.”

Alexia leaned in, kissed your cheek and whispered, “You’re adorable. And you’re never living this down.”

Later that night, the two of you sat under your blanket in the living room. Sharing popcorn. Watching The Mandalorian. She stole your favorite plush to cuddle.

You tried to act annoyed.

But honestly?

You couldn’t stop smiling.

#woso community #woso writers #woso x reader #woso #fc barcelona femeni #fc barcelona femeni x reader #woso imagine #my short story #alexia putellas x groguobsessed!reader #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

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zepskies · 4 months ago

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BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 5

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Ready for an angsty-fun filled finale? 😘💖

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “The Very Thought of You” by Tony Bennett

Word Count: 6.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, tense situations, protective Dean, hurt/comfort, fluff, and spice.~

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 5: Dried Ink

Dean slammed the payphone back on the hook in frustration. He’d tried calling twice from the train station and couldn’t get you at home. It was getting late in the evening and he knew you were off work already. Where the hell did you go?

“She could’ve packed up and left him already,” Sam said. “I gave her the number of a decent hotel I know over in the Village.”

Dean reluctantly stepped aside for the next person waiting to use the phone. The sound of his train clicking by fast on the tracks echoed in the station. A gust of wind shoved at the brothers' backs, ruffling their long coats, as well as Sam's hair.

“You think she did it that quick?” Dean asked.

“One way to find out,” Sam said. “Come on. I’ve got my car waiting.”

It was so very strange to watch the bellman bring your suitcases inside your new room. You’d only ever stayed in a hotel once, for your honeymoon in Philadelphia. Michael took you to the Walnut Street Theater there, and among other things, to see the Liberty Bell. It had reminded both of you about the true cost of freedom.

You let that thought slip away from you with a shake of your head as you started unpacking, hesitantly at first. It almost didn’t feel real.

Fortunately, after sampling from a bottle of scotch you’d found under Michael’s side of the bed (and slipped into your suitcase), you began to settle into the idea. You took a break from hanging up your dresses in the closet to peer out the window to the narrow, busy streets below the fifth floor. Everything looked so small down there, so far away. In time, maybe the heaviness in your heart would feel that far away too.

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. It could be Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand.

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you. “I come home with flowers, two tickets to see a show, ready to take my wife out to dinner, only to find the apartment half empty. Not to mention a letter that…frankly, cut me to down to the core.”

His anger lessened then, turning into dismay; the kind that you never would have expected to see in his eyes. Not after how he’d been acting for the past few months. He came closer and grabbed hold of you by the shoulders. When you tensed and expelled a shaky breath, he blinked in surprise.

“Darling, are you…you scared of me or something?” he asked incredulously. “I know I’ve been working late, not coming home when I say I will sometimes, but have I ever raised a hand to you? Not even once, right?”

You drew enough courage to meet his eyes, so blue, for once so earnest. It made you sick. Because the man he was when he was sober was more like the one you married. Only, you felt the true version of him was more akin to a sleeping dragon, lying in wait to be provoked.

“Neither of us have to lie anymore and pretend this is a marriage. At least, not one worth saving,” you said. “I know, Michael. I know about Dolores…or should I say, Joanna.”

Michael paused. His head cocked as disbelief crossed his features. He stared down at you almost without blinking.

“Did you know her real name was Joanna Johnson?” you asked. “Ring any bells with Brady Johnson, the man you’ve been paying to keep her company?”

Michael frowned. “He’s her brother. He pays her bills—”

“No,” you shook your head. “Look in the folder sitting on the coffee table there.”

You gestured over to it with a nod of your head. Michael was drawn to the path of your gaze. When his morbid curiosity was too much, he finally let go of you to investigate the folder in question. You released a subtle sigh of relief. You began drifting over behind the couch and closer to the landline phone. It rested on a nearby accent table.

Meanwhile, Michael sorted through the contents of the folder and all the information Sam had gathered for you. He’d made copies of all the evidence for your personal records, including the photos he took of Michael and Dolores.

“Her maiden name is Joanna Beth Harvell,” you revealed. “Brady Johnson isn’t her brother, Michael. You’ve been paying to sleep with another man’s wife.”

No one short of Clark Gable could fake the jolt of shock that crossed Michael’s face. You saw the truth of it in his eyes when he glanced up at you.

“I don’t know why it should bother you, seeing as you don’t seem to care much about wedding vows,” you couldn’t help but snark. You were no longer all that sad though. Somehow, that pitiful look on his face made you feel sorry for him.

Michael seemed to have swallowed his tongue. For a while, he couldn’t dislodge it from the roof of his mouth to speak. But when he did, it wasn’t with anything good to say.

“How did you get all this?” he asked.

Your spine stiffened. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over, Michael. I can’t do this anymore. You should be getting the divorce papers served to you by the morning—”

Your words were cut off when he rounded the corner of the couch, grabbing you by the arms again. This time, his grip was much firmer and made you gasp.

“What the hell is going on? Have you been spying on me?!” he raised his voice to new heights, shaking you once by your shoulders. “How long have you been planning to leave me?”

The words became choked in your throat along with your fear—one that paralyzed you, and made you feel sick with yourself, small and weak.

The door bursting open again startled you both, but it was Michael who grunted when he was heaved off of you by his shirt and waistcoat.

You stumbled and braced yourself against the back of the couch, but your widened eyes fell on the one man you never thought you’d see again.

“Dean,” you breathed.

He spared you a look of concern through his anger, but Michael soon commanded his attention by trying to break his hold. Dean reeled back his arm and delivered a solid punch that knocked the other man into the wall. Michael leaned heavily against it to keep himself upright, and he had to blink a few spots out of his eyes, not only grimacing at the ache in his cheek. That one blow had rattled through his skull, disturbing old injuries. He glared over at Dean.

“Who the hell are you?” Michael shouted. His shock only increased when he noticed Sam Winchester shutting the hotel room door behind him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m her lawyer, Mr. Milligan, and you’re hereby served,” Sam said.

He strode forward with a packet of papers. Michael took a purposeful step towards him, but Dean shoved Michael back against the wall. It allowed Sam to place the packet in Michael’s disbelieving hand.

Dean went over to you then, giving you a meaningful once-over as you held yourself. He softened when he saw the tears in your eyes.

“You all right?” he said quietly, laying a hand on the small of your back. You still couldn’t quite speak, but you nodded at him gratefully, tucking a wily strand of hair behind your ear.

Michael took notice of it once he peeled his eyes from the divorce papers, and up at you and Dean. Michael’s lips pursed as his posture became even more tense and irate.

“I’m not signing this,” he said, tossing the folder onto the coffee table beside the evidence of his infidelity. He met your wary gaze. “Look, I’m not saying I’ve been a perfect husband, but you’re my wife. That still means something to me. We can…we can still work this out.”

Against your will, hot tears burned in your eyes, and your mouth trembled. The men watched you closely.

You shook your head.

“No. We can’t,” you said. “You’re not the man I thought I married.”

In those blue eyes, you thought you saw the shine of a breaking heart. But all too quickly, it turned into anger and denial. Michael meant to cross the narrow distance between you with a threat on his mind and tight coiling of his entire frame. Dean’s hand slid from your back as he stepped in between, fisting a hand in the other man’s dress shirt and pressing there hard.

“You take your hands off me before I tear you apart,” Michael hissed.

Dean’s face was full of cold fire, with a threat thinly veiled underneath. “Lay another hand on her, and I’ll break every bone you got left.”

“Dean,” you gasped, reaching out for him. His backward glance at you warned you to stay where you were.

Michael became even more incensed. Again, he was noticing the familiarity between you and this man invading his space, threatening him, and standing between him and his wife. Before he could open his mouth to protest, Sam finally spoke up again.

“If you don’t take that file and leave now, peacefully, then this isn’t the only one of your affairs that’s going to come to light,” Sam said.

Michael hesitated. He glanced over at Sam with an angry raise of his brow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know very well what it means,” Sam replied. He picked up the folder of evidence he gave you and slipped out a few documents that highlighted an audit of Milligan Meats.

“How does a family business stay so incredibly lucrative during one of the worst times for meat production since the Depression?” Sam wondered aloud. “Maybe it has something to do with those connections you made in Philadelphia, greasing hands like Vondich, from Pittsburg. Or accepting kickbacks from the Torelli family to stock their restaurants with higher quality beef. Who knew that your father had deep, shall we say intimate ties, to one of the biggest mafia families in New York City?”

Once Sam showed the numbers and records, written in Michael’s own painstaking hand, your husband’s face went ashen.

“How did you get this?” he said. Then, as it dawned on him, he looked over at you in betrayal. You hadn’t known about the Torellis, but Sam had been able to sort the last five years of audits for himself, thanks to your investigation of Michael’s office.

“I did my own digging, Mr. Milligan,” Sam said, earning back his attention. “Your wife’s only part in this was asking for my help in securing her divorce. As you can see, I’m very thorough. And these aren’t my only copies of this information. I’m fully prepared to take it to the authorities, today.”

His lie was to protect you, just as much as Dean physically putting himself between you and Michael was. You didn’t know if Michael entirely bought the lie, but eventually, his shoulders sagged in defeat.

He grabbed the papers from Sam’s hand, pivoted on his heel, and turned to leave. However, Michael stopped at the doorway to look back at you.

“This is really what you want?” he asked.

You nodded. “You know it is.”

With that confirmation, Michael took his heavy heart with him when he left.

Sam and Dean helped you repack your things. Neither of them trusted Michael to leave you alone now that he knew where you were. You didn’t want to make such a fuss, but they insisted on helping to put you up at a different hotel across town.

Sam took half of your belongings in his car, where he also had Dean’s one and only suitcase. Dean loaded the rest of your luggage in a taxicab and sat beside you, mostly staring out the window while he smoked. During the ride, you couldn’t help but glance at him every so often. You noted his profile, handsome as always, except now you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking.

“Dean,” you said quietly. It earned you his attention, as his eyes roamed over you from your familiar beige jacket to your favorite burgundy lipstick.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I am,” you nodded, giving him a small smile. “Thank you.”

You tried to convey deeper things with your words, and you thought Dean read your meaning. He hesitated for a moment, but he took up your hand and pressed a kiss to your fingers.

“Sam’s gonna keep watching out for you, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything,” he said.

Your smile fell. “You’re still going back to Kansas?”

Dean held your gaze for a long moment, and let out a breath through his nose.

“Nothing’s changed, sweetheart. I’m still a man with a lot to make of himself, and you’re still a married woman, even without the ring,” he said, gesturing to your left hand held in his. “It’s not the right time for us…and I’m not asking you to wait for me to get my act together. It’s not fair to you.”

You were quiet for a while. The cab’s tires continued rolling over bits of gravel in the street, the honking horns and other pocketed sounds of the city falling into a background symphony. You glanced up at Dean, meeting his eyes once more.

“I don’t regret anything,” you told him, squeezing his hand. “I could never.”

The corner of his lips quirked upwards. “Me either, baby. Not for all the world.”

He held your hand until the taxi stopped in front of the hotel. Dean leaned over to open the door. He helped you out of the car, but there, he let you go.

You supposed you’d have to be strong enough to walk alone this time.

March 1946

Four months later, it was official.

Oh, Michael sure made it difficult. Sam did make a point to keep an eye on you though. He even hired a client and friend, Benny Lafitte, to accompany you to and from work every day. The burly man was an intimidating presence, but he was kind and respectful. He made you feel safer, especially in the evenings when he kept watch of your apartment for a while, sat out front in his car.

Michael was tenacious. He likely used his connections through town, however nefarious they might be, to find out where you were staying again. He continued to show up outside your hotel room.

Nonetheless, when he sat up against your door all night and realized that you wouldn’t budge, the anger finally drained out of Michael. The exhaustion and guilt set in, perhaps not for the first time.

Then, he drunkenly apologized through the closed door, not knowing you were leaning in on the other side of it. It wasn’t the kind of apology that meant anything, you thought, but the kind that meant to let him save face in your eyes, to persuade you into softening.

You didn’t soften, even though he tried everything to get you to reconsider. He tried gentle words and grandiose gestures, even so far as getting down on his knees outside the door and begging—something you’d never seen him do, not once. Part of you wanted to open the door just an inch if it allowed you to see that sight.

Your tears came, but not because your heart was easing up to him. Your heart was breaking again, knowing this was the end.

He tried reminding you of how difficult it would be for you afterwards, how it might affect your family, your job, everyone’s perception of you. More importantly to him, it would affect how people saw him, a man divorced after barely a year.

Somehow, you found the strength to speak to him slowly from inside the door.

“It’s already done, Michael. And so am I,” you said. “After I saw you and Dolores together with my own eyes, I…I was intimate with another man. I didn’t do it to hurt you, but I still did it.”

His silence was deafening. Not being able to see him actually made this easier though. You sighed.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t go back to us,” you said, “because that would be a lie.”

You couldn’t see it, but his face tightened as angry tears filled his eyes. He felt the weight of his decisions like never before, along with a pulsing, phantom pain in his skull that alcohol could no longer dull. Dimly, he remembered the man he used to be, before. He remembered having a shred of honor to his name, even before he married you. And he did that because he’d loved you. He was sure that he had, somehow…

“I am sorry, darling,” he croaked. “You have to know…”

You nodded, taking a breath to try and steady yourself.

“I know,” you realized. As much as he was able to be, he was sorry.

He picked himself up from outside your door and walked away. He never returned after that.

In those four months, you resolved to move back to Sioux Falls. New York had become your home in the past year and a half you’d lived here, but it wasn’t who you were. You wanted a quieter life. A more peaceful life.

You initially agreed to move to the city with Michael because you had wanted to please him, and make his transition back to civilian life easier in his familiar surroundings. You thought the two of you were building a life together.

New York City was still a heartbeat of a world, but it was no longer in your heart.

Now, you were finishing up on packing your things at the hotel. You left for South Dakota tomorrow, and you already sent your last payment to Sam Winchester a few days ago, along with a handwritten letter thanking him for his help. You felt badly for not going to visit his office in person, but it would be too hard. You would be too tempted to ask about his brother.

Dean.

Just the thought of his name made your heart constrict. You weren’t sure if it was only with pain, though you hoped he was doing well. You tried to remember that you had known him for barely a week. Your mind and your heart shouldn't be so taken up with him.

And yet.

He had seen you at your lowest, belly-to-the-ground low. He had brushed away your tears and hadn’t tried to flatter you with pretty words. He’d made you feel better with simple, raw honesty.

He gave you a window into his past, even though a soldier like him wouldn’t easily pry himself open for anyone, short of his own brother, you suspected. So you’d come to realize, whenever the memory of him greeted you after that day in the park, that he’d given you something special. Perhaps the best night of your life.

Your fingers paused on the brass doorknob to what had been your bedroom for the past few months. It was a modest one, complete with a kitchen and a small two-seater sofa.

Hotels were expensive, but your parents had been kind enough to send you some money to help you. They’d been dismayed to learn of the reasons behind your divorce, of course. They both had been against it at first, but when they heard your voice over the phone, along with the full story, they finally agreed to support you in what way they could, especially by welcoming you back home.

You were looking forward to seeing them. It had only been a couple of months since they’d come to the city for Christmas, but you were ready to go home to some familiarity, and to your family’s support.

You shook your head to get yourself unstuck from all of that. You straightened the wrinkles out of your long skirt and adjusted the collar of your blouse. You had just come home from your last day of work not too long ago, so you supposed you would take a bath and get changed into something more comfortable before you finished packing. Your train left tomorrow, early in the morning.

You were about to head into the bathroom when you heard a knock at the door. Frowning, you wondered who it could be. If it was Michael again, you were not opening the door, and you’d call the police for good measure if he stuck around. You were done entertaining him in every sense of the word.

You went to the door and looked into the peephole. Your brows furrowed. You unlatched all three locks on the door and opened it to the room service maid.

“Hi, Bridget, how are you?” you greeted her.

“Oh, I’m doing well, ma’am. Sorry, I’m a bit behind today, but I’m here to clean the room.”

“Oh, well, now isn’t really a good time,” you said. You had duffel bags and suitcases open, with your clothes, a curling iron, and other things thrown about. Not to mention, you had a leftover sandwich sitting half-eaten on the dining table with a nearly empty bag of chips.

“I’m afraid I can’t come back later,” said Bridget. She tended to talk with her hands, made more interesting by the fact that she held a broom with one hand, and pulled her cleaning cart with the other. “It’ll be too late, and then you’ll be asleep!”

“Look, I’ll just clean tonight, and you can come back tomorrow after I leave. How does that sound?” you suggested.

“All right, if that’s how you want it,” Bridget said with a shrug. She threw her broom on the cart and started pushing it down the hall. She still called back to you over her shoulder, “Goodnight, ma’am! Safe travels for your trip home.”

You shook your head with a weary smile. “Thank you. Goodnight!”

You closed the door behind you and reset all the locks in place. Releasing a heavy sigh, you supposed you should get back to packing. You turned to do just that, when there came another knock on the door. This time it was a heavier sound.

“For God’s sake. What is it now?” you groused.

You went back to look into the peephole. This time, your mouth fell open in a gasp. You undid all the locks again with shaking hands, and you opened the door. There stood Dean Winchester.

He looked nice. Dapper really, wearing a dark blue suit and tie over a crisp white shirt and blue waistcoat underneath. His hair was combed and gelled and parted to the right, and he smelled faintly of a woodsy cologne.

He also looked just as stricken to see you. His eyes were as green as you remembered, and they took in your form from head to toe. They returned to your face, softening slightly, and he smiled.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

God, his voice. It threatened to make you weak.

You shook your head and managed to smile back at him. “What’re you doing here?”

He chuckled. “Well, that’s some welcome.”

“You know what I mean.” You reached out for him, and he took your hand, raising the back of it to his lips in a kiss. All the while, his eyes never left you. Your face flushed hotly, your heartbeat leaping in and out of rhythm.

“I’m here to see you,” he said, matter of factly. As if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Your mouth ran dry. It was difficult to form words, but somehow you managed it.

“Would…would you like to come in then?” you offered.

“I’d like nothing more,” he replied.

The depths in his words made a tingle run down your spine, though you tried to hide your reaction to it. You let him in and shut the door behind you both.

“So you’re headed home, huh?” he asked. He was sitting next to you on the couch with a soda you procured for him, and a cigarette in hand, yet to be lit.

“Did Sam tell you?” you asked.

Dean nodded, smiling ruefully. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

You ducked your head, a bit embarrassed. He tossed his unlit cigarette on the coffee table and tucked a finger under your chin. He raised your head until you met his eyes.

“There she is,” he said softly.

You sucked in a breath laden with emotion. Tears welled up in your eyes.

“Why are you here, Dean?”

“I think you know,” he said, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“I think you need to say it,” you replied, daring him with the directness of your gaze. His hand fell away from your chin, just to cup your cheek as he moved closer. You grabbed onto his arm in reflex.

“I told you, I had to see you,” he admitted.

“Why? Why now?” you asked. “After what you said last time… For goodness’ sake, Dean. Why wait until I’m about to leave?”

“Because,” Dean said. He took a subtle breath, making himself relax. “Because I had to sort myself out, and I had to wait until the ink dried on those damn divorce papers. Because if I’d come any sooner, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.”

Hope dared to rise high in your throat. Your eyes flit over his face, and finally met his.

“From what?” you whispered.

Dean tilted his head to consider it. He bit into his lip, and then, he made a choice.

He kissed you with abandon. He kept kissing you, stealing your breath, finding new angles to devour you with. He robbed you of any coherent thought in your head the moment his tongue breached your lips to curl against yours. It was all you could do to keep up with him, but you grabbed onto his jacket and made indents in the fabric with your nails. His hands moved down your body to squeeze your waist, pulling you flush against him. You moaned into his mouth.

“Dean,” you said, half on a gasp, half on a whimper.

He managed to slow down for a moment. His hand came up to pet your hair.

“No matter what the hell I do, I’m selfish. I just…I can’t let you go,” he said, with furrowed brows.

You shook your head in dismay. “You didn’t need to, you know. I wouldn’t have let you take me home that night if I didn’t think you were a good man…and I certainly wouldn’t have invited you in.”

Your lips tugged at a smile, making Dean smirk as well. That memory had stayed with him too, usually on long nights alone in his house. He tried to remember the sweet smell of your perfume, the feeling of your soft skin, the sound of your pretty moans in his ear. Even now, the thought stirred the well of arousal inside him.

But also, there were other things he missed, like the sight of your smile, your sweeter voice, somehow gentle and strong all at once. He shook his head, thumbing at your cheek.

“The truth is, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the day I met you,” he said. “I’m pretty sure that means I love you.”

Your eyes blinked wide at him in shock. His face was steady and even, but his amusement was starting to peek through the longer he looked at you.

“Pretty sure?” you asked breathlessly.

“Well, I’m willing to be more definitive on the subject if you are,” he teased.

You fought a smile, but you couldn’t quite help it. Still, doubt began to creep in from behind.

“I want to believe you,” you said quietly. “But part of me is afraid that these are all just pretty words. If I let another man—”

“I’m not another man,” Dean said. His tone was firm, but also imploring, willing you to hear him. He gave your waist a gentle squeeze. “I’m me and you’re you. It’s not about Michael, or anyone else right now but us. And you’ve gotta know…sweetheart, you’ve gotta know that I’m not him.”

You tried steadying yourself with a breath. Your watery gaze cut away from Dean, but he wouldn’t let you hide. He gently brought you back, once again guiding your chin. He swept the lone tear from your cheek.

“Please, just tell me the honest truth. Tell me how you feel about us, and I promise, I won’t take it for granted,” he said. He knew he was practically begging, sounding almost needy and weak, but he couldn’t walk away from you again. Not until he knew for sure what you could want from him…what you could want with him.

The seconds of waiting for your answer were more agonizing than the long hours he spent traveling back to New York.

Until finally, you spared him. You shook your head and raised a hand to caress his cheek, your thumb brushing over his plush lower lip.

“After you left, I thought about you every morning when I woke up. And I prayed for you every night before I went to sleep,” you said. “I’m pretty sure that means I love you too.”

Dean smiled. It was a soft, boyish smile that seemed too young for his face. You loved him all the more for it.

He leaned in…but he hesitated, stopping just shy of your lips.

“Look, I still don’t know if I can be the man you need,” he said. He looked into your eyes. “But I can promise to try, every day, and for the rest of our lives.”

Hot tears once again stung in your eyes, threatening to blur your vision.

“That’s all I could ask for, Dean,” you replied. “I’ll try for you too.”

He smiled slightly, holding you a little closer by your waist.

“Good, because my shoulder still hurts sometimes. Gonna need you to work another miracle or two.”

You laughed and nodded, your hand sliding back up his arm to rub the old injury in his shoulder.

“My specialty,” you teased.

His smile dimmed then, becoming a touch serious, and even rueful.

“And, uh…I don’t sleep so well at times, either,” he said.

You sobered as well. “Me too,” you said. Your lips hinted at a smile again. “But we can keep each other company.”

Dean read the thread of suggestion in your eyes, despite the hint of shyness. His smile began to perk up again.

“I can also be kind of stubborn,” he admitted.

Amused, you tilted your head and ran a gentle hand over his chest. Was he giving you every reason you might say no to him?

“Well, I’m sure I can find a way to soften you up,” you said.

Chuckling, Dean took your hand and pressed a kiss into your palm. “Oh, I got no doubts about that, sweetheart.”

He rested your hand back on his chest and thought for a moment more. You just waited for him, patiently stroking his hand with your thumb. You had time to wait.

“You know, I occasionally like to cook too,” he said, with something of an embarrassed chuckle.

Your smile brightened with interest. “Really? Well,” you said, slipping your hand out of his and winding your arms around his neck. “We can take turns feeding each other then.”

Dean really liked the way your mind worked. His hands splayed along your lower back and brought you more flush against his chest. Your face was mere inches from his, tilted up to him in waiting.

Again, he stopped short of kissing you.

“Ah, there’s probably a lot more you should know, but this one’s kind of a big one,” Dean said. That serious tone crept back up in his voice. “I’ve got a plan to make money. It’s not a sure-fire thing, but it’s an honest one. And even if it doesn’t work, I’ll just try something else. I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of you. You don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?”

You smiled at his earnestness. What surprised you most of all was that you believed him. Every word. Because you could see it in the deep green of his eyes. If you trusted him, he wouldn’t let you down. Or at least, he would try his hardest. Try really was all you could ask for.

“Then I’ll take care of you too,” you nodded, stroking his cheek.

Dean’s smile rang true as well.

He finally kissed you again, trapping you thereafter against the sofa.

You sighed and nuzzled your head in a more comfortable position on Dean’s shoulder. The train bound for South Dakota was travelling full speed ahead, four days after your initially booked ticket. The carriage bumped and jostled you both at times, but you felt nothing but peace.

Dean turned his attention towards you, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. His fingers entwined with yours in his lap.

“Comfortable?” he asked, both genuine and a little teasing.

“Mhmm,” you nodded. Your eyes closed as you let out a breath. He smiled into your hair.

“So what’s it like in Sioux Falls?” he asked quietly, as to not disturb you too much. He just wanted to keep hearing your voice. He’d missed it. He’d missed you.

“Quieter than the city,” you replied, after a moment to think about it. “Slower, but in some ways nicer. I think you’ll like it more than New York, anyway, and I think my parents will like you too…if they don’t think too much less of me.”

“Why would they think less of you?” Dean asked.

You picked your head up and looked up at him a bit bashfully. You raised up your joined hands, where his mother’s wedding bands now rested on your ring finger.

“For marrying another man they’ve never met, scarcely two minutes after the ink dried, so to speak,” you said, using his words.

Dean chuckled, and he wrapped you up more snugly against him and rubbed your back. If you wanted to get technical, the new marriage license was the most recent “ink” to be penned. Sam had been your witness, of course, and he’d hugged you both afterwards. For Dean, Sam’s hug was tight and bracing.

“I’m happy for you, Dean. I’m always here for you. Anything you need.”

“That’s my line, little brother.”

Dean hadn’t known that the two of you needed to take a blood test just to get hitched, let alone that the license wouldn’t be valid for 72 hours. Though it did give you and Dean the opportunity to put your hotel room to good use for those three days. Call it a honeymoon before the honeymoon.

(In fairness, you’d tried to hold out for decency’s sake, but your resolve dissipated even quicker than Dean’s.)

“Don’t worry, I’ll charm ‘em,” he said with a grin.

You snorted. “Good luck with my father. Be prepared for his grilling. Where do you plan to live? What’re you doing for work?”

“Well, the first one we can talk about. The second one, I’ve already got an idea,” said Dean. “I wanted to wait until I saw you again to decide…but I plan to sell the house in Lawrence.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Why?”

You had already been mentally preparing yourself for a move to Kansas after visiting your parents. You never considered that Dean would want to sell his family home.

“For the money. I’m thinking that after all this, you want to stick closer to home, be near your family,” he said. “I’ve got nothing tying me down over there besides the house, so I figure we can use the money to buy one here. With whatever’s left, I could try to start an auto repair shop. Nothing big to start. Just a space big enough for the work. I’m not picky about it. Your uncle could send me the stragglers from his tows, if he’s agreeable to it.”

“After he gets to know you, I don’t see why not. Dean, that’s a great idea and…thank you,” you replied. Your heart was touched that he would sell his family home, just so you could be near your family. You squeezed his hand and blinked past the tears beginning to burn in your eyes.

“Really, you don’t know what it means to me that you’d consider me like that.”

Dean noticed you getting worked up. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, though part of him felt a bit bashful.

“It’s not all that special,” he said. You didn’t budge, however.

“Yes, it is,” you said. You leaned up, wordlessly requesting a kiss. Dean obliged you. He kissed you long and slow and tender.

He broke away after a while, just to look over your shoulder. He smiled. Then he leaned forward, careful to keep you secure in his arms as he locked the door.

“What’re you up to?” you asked in amusement, despite the fire churning inside you.

“It’s a long way to the Midwest, sweetheart. I’m taking advantage of it,” he said. “What do you say?”

A knowing smile began to tug at your lips. “Hmm, depends on what you want to do.”

Dean shifted you onto his lap. Smirking at your small sound of surprise, he made a show of undoing every button that laced down the front of your dress with slow precision. Your breathing shallowed as you watched his nimble hand go one by one.

“I plan to take my time,” he said. “I plan to make us both glad this train is loud enough to drown out just about anything.”

He laid a kiss just above your neckline. The more buttons he loosened, the more bare skin he had to trail his affections, like on the tops of your breasts, and another kiss in between them. Uttering a soft sigh, you held him to you by his hair and threaded your fingers through the brown strands. His other hand squeezed your bottom, earning a stifled giggle from you.

“I plan to map out every part of you, all over again,” he said, “until I can see it all with my eyes closed. Until we’re both sweaty and satisfied.”

He raised his head just to mark a biting, claiming kiss on your throat, making your breath hitch.

“That okay with you, baby?” he asked again.

You felt his growing smile against your skin. You tightened a hand in his hair in retaliation. It was a scandalous proposal, not to mention risky. You two could be booted off the train, for heaven’s sake…

Your breaths were shallow as he slipped a hand under the collar of your blouse, even under the bra to palm at your breast.

“You better not stop, Sergeant,” you whispered.

When he chuckled, you felt it deep in your chest.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, shortly before he claimed your lips again.

The train rode on.

AN: I promised a happy ending, didn't I? 😉✨ What did you think of the "end" of Michael, as well as how she and Dean worked things out? I absolutely loved working on this series and this AU world. Maybe I'll do another '40s AU in the future! 💖

But until then, I have lots of fun things coming up! You'll hear about the next story soon. 😘

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bvidzsoo · 1 year ago

Text

Underwater

The first star of Cosmically divine...

☆ Author: bvidzsoo

☆ Pairing: Choi San x female reader

☆ Warning: nudity, smut, blood, mentions of war and threats to kill someone

☆ Word count: 6.9k

☆ Rating: nsfw

☆ Genre: Greek mythology, San is Ares, forbidden love

☆ Summary: You knew that your love would never be fulfilled as the man you loved belonged to another woman. But can you help your poor Naiad heart when San, the God of war himself, seeks you out again and again when he is most vulnerable?

☆ A/N: Hi, lovelies!^^ I totally didn't write this piece in one sitting, naaah, yes I did. I hope it's good and enjoyable as I have my doubts with it I was so hyped up but anyways. I appreciate all your feedback, it is very welcomed, so let me know what you thought of it! If you'd like to join the taglist of the series let me know! I'll point out a few things before you start reading the story:

★ This is inspired by Greek mythology, but I took creative liberty and adapted it to my likes, so keep that in mind while reading, thank you! ★ Ares is the God of war ★ Artemis is the Goddess of hunt ★ A Naiad Nymph is a female spirit that preside in fresh water ★ Aphrodite is the Goddess of love ★ Hermes is the messenger of Gods ★ Iris is the goddess of rainbow but was also considered messenger of Gods ★ Atë is the goddess of mischief ★ Dion is a village and municipal unit in the municipality of Dion-Olympos in the Pieria regional unit, Greece; it's known for its sanctuary of Zeus and its ancient city (it's so beautiful over there guys, if you get the chance, you should definitely visit the village, and Mount Olympus too!!) ocean divider; greek divider

☆ Taglist: @patchofblue @sthwaaberry @constipatedcorgi @holytidalwavechees3cake @cheolliehugs

@slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @hoeforsungie

༄ ҉ Series m.list ༄ ҉ 　

On the outskirts of the ancient city called Dion, just by the foot of Mount Olympus an enchanted forest vivid with Nymphs of all kinds encompassed the land, offering a much-needed sanctuary and protection to those who were in need of tranquility and a piece of quiet, away from all mortals, and even Gods that had their watchful eyes on everyone and everything at all times. The small Lake of Naia, springing from the top of Mount Olympus, rushing down rapidly the rocky side of the mountain only until it became merely a gentle stream was the place I referred to as my home. It wasn’t just my home, it was the home of many Naiad nymphs that have been birthed and then raised on the shores of Lake Naia by their elderly sisters, naiads that have been here for centuries, having witnessed atrocities, but so many beautiful life-changing events as well. We were fond of this place, and we protect it ardently. No foul soul was allowed in the vicinity of our sacred Lake, Artemis herself having blessed our sanctuary.

Men who were desperate for enlightenment, or were feeling lonely, would often find solace in our presence, grateful for an eternity to us, making promises, which, due to their fragile lives would never be completely fulfilled. But that was alright, my sisters and I never expected too much from them as long as they honored and cherished our land, our Lake, our home. After all, mere mortals wouldn’t be able to offer us what the Olympian Gods could. Warm bodies and warm souls that we could often lay upon our hardships, our fears, and our future ambitions. I have never stepped too far away from my home, walking barely a few feet away from the Lake would make me feel restless and unnerved, unsafe and exposed to the not so kind men that liked to haunt and torment us when the Gods weren’t on the look out for their dear naiads.

Besides Artemis, not many came often to Lake Naia, its location too close to Olympus and yet too far from Dion for the Gods that were rather lazy, like Apollo. Zeus always had his eyes on his children and kin, however, if they travelled far away enough from Olympus, he’d certainly turn a blind eye to whatever shenanigans they deemed fit on their travels on Earth, disguised as something they were not. Even Artemis liked to change her features when she came down to bless our Lake and show gratefulness for guiding and protecting the maidens through their hardships, however, there was one God that never bothered to hide his true self. All bloody and gory and authentic, brute yet hands gentle as if they were afraid to bruise those innocent, eyes sharp and menacing upon first glance, yet warm and intense on a second glance. The mortals liked calling him Ares, but I preferred his birth name, the one Zeus had given him, San.

San had always been a gruff and intimidating man, as the God of war, he was strong and vigilant, quick on his feet and cutting with his words. Very few naiads had the courage to approach him, scared he’d hurt them if they displeased him in any way, and so, the task of looking out for him whenever he visited Lake Naia fell on my hands. And despite the stories that I have heard about the fearless man, I couldn’t bring myself to find him terrifying or mal-intentioned, not when his lips quivered when he whispered the names of those fallen in battle, not when tears would escape his beautiful eyes before he’d submerge in the crystal-clear water of Lake Naia, desperate to rid himself of all the blood, suffering, and screams of those that have perished underneath the sharp blade of his sword. San was a man with a delicate and soft soul, yearning for a connection that was simple, a connection in which he didn’t have to explain himself nor feel guilty, a connection where one simply listened to his burdens and coaxed him further inside the warm and tranquil waters of Lake Naia.

Being immortals, it’s been too long and I wouldn’t be exactly able to pinpoint the time and date of when San decided that he’d choose Lake Naia as his piece of heaven and peace after a long and exhausting battle, but ever since then, his visits became more and more frequent. Perhaps it was due to the rising tension between the settlements as the mortals were never quite thankful with what they’ve got, so, they challenged each other to a war that only lead to disaster and suffering, dividing families and scarring individuals for a lifetime. And despite the real reason as to why San was here should have saddened me, as a protector of maidens that have fallen victim in these wars, I only found my heart gleeful and quickly beating the more often he showed up. There was something majestic, captivating and divine about San, and my poor Naiad heart stood no chance against a man whose walls crumbled the second his armor was off his body.

Times were dire, nature had a way of silently absorbing everything the mortals felt. And as part of nature myself, I found myself quite volatile lately. Even the quietest snap of a twig sent us back deeper inside the lake, ready to submerge and watch from underneath whatever fool decided to approach our sacred place. My sisters grew restless and they refused to step out of Lake Naia, whispers of the forest surrounding us carrying word that a war not too far from our home was brewing as the military forces of two settlements failed to see eye to eye. Artemis visited more often than before, blessing our humble abode and promising a new location that would be even safer if the events would turn grimmer, but my sisters and I refused to flee. This is our one and only home, the only place that we’ve known since eternity, since the cosmos has birthed us, and if it came to it, we’d rather perish with this place than abandon it and leave those who love it as much as us behind. Artemis did not like our refusal, but her word couldn’t go against our eldest sister’s, and once we’ve put our hearts to something, we rarely changed our minds.

Due to the sun hiding behind the clouds, the Lake failed to stay as warm as usual, but our songs kept it idle for a quick dip. My sisters have disappeared somewhere deep-down underneath, their absence coating the surroundings in a serene silence, perhaps a little bit even eerie. I knew what this meant as I lurked just above the surface, eyes set on the steadily approaching figure. Its outline was harsh and looked to be almost vibrating as his heavy footsteps echoed in the silent forest, the animals just as reluctant as my sisters to be in the vicinity of the God. Pushing my head above water, I took a deep breath and slowly swum towards the shore, the soft water clinging to my skin like a second skin. The sword that was gripped in the God’s hand glinted in the light, despite the sun being hidden, and it left a red path in its wake as he came closer to the Lake. Something salty and nauseating hit my nose as my feet touched the fine soil of the Lake, the water up to my neck as the sword slipped from the God’s hand, clanking loudly against the grey stones that littered the path that led towards Lake Naia. Heath flooded my body, and it wasn’t from the Lake as I walked further out, water below my chest, it was from the God’s body heath as red veins swirled underneath his pristine and tan skin as his arms were left exposed. The miniscule cut on his right bicep was the first thing that caught my eyes as the water of the Lake finally reached my ankles, white dress heavily clinging to my body and failing to hide anything as my black hair looked almost molded to my back as it wetly stuck to it. A soft exhale and the deep furrow of his dark eyebrows was the first sign that my God felt exhausted as we came to stand face to face, his body tense and vibrating with the remnants of adrenaline, meanwhile mine felt lax and tingly as I bowed my head, curtsying.

“San, my possessor.” I didn’t need to speak loudly, there were no sounds around us, just San’s breaths coming out in short puffs, chest rising and falling rapidly underneath his black steel armor. The stench of death would make anyone run away, but as I raised my head up and laid my eyes upon my possessor’s face again, I could only feel pity seeing the regret and exhaustion whirling together in his sharp eyes, clouding his mind and I could almost hear his thoughts.

“Y/N, my nymph.” And the God’s voice that roars and shatters in a battle was now shaky and soft, warm to the point that it made my heart beat faster, “I have missed you dearly.”

I didn’t dare smile as I extended my right hand, eyes stuck to the swipe of dark blood underneath his right eye, trailing down to leave the impression of a bloody tear. I swiped at it with my thumb, and San’s eyes closed as he gulped, sighing loudly.

“Let me take away your burdens.” I whispered as I stepped closer, the heath almost devouring me as the red veins seemed even more alight underneath his tan and soft skin, heart beating out of the God’s chest as his eyes slowly opened, black eyelashes fluttering as they settled on my face.

“Please.” A God never pleaded, never fell to their knees in front of anyone. A God was strong and fearless, ready to devour anyone who dared disobey their command. I offered San a small smile as I leaned forward, lips parting just slightly before they made contact with the cut on San’s bicep, a whimper leaving the man’s lips upon the contact. And his eyes were glazed over as I pulled back, the taste of salt tangible on my tongue as I caressed his now healed bicep. San knew what to do, and with a deep breath he fell to his knees, hanging his head low as my hands caressed his cheeks before his jaw, settling around his neck. His skin was hot, flaming almost, gushing with life underneath all that heavy muscle and flesh, desperate for a gentle and understanding touch. I allowed my hands to travel lower, onto his shoulders, nimble fingers unclasping the harsh steel from around his defined shoulders. A pause, another sigh, and San stood tall once again, a calloused hand settling on my hip as he oh so gently pulled my body closer, my fingers itching the more blood they touched, which was now rusted onto his armor, the same armor that Hephaestus had designed for him upon the request of Zeus so that it would make San, his bellowed son, invincible. San’s sharp, but softening, eyes remained on my face as my hands first went around his middle, leaning my fragile body against his. It was sturdy, unmovable like a mountain, but it was also warm and gentle, a quiet promise that it would keep you safe from any evil. San’s fingers twitched before they dug into my hip, his armor sharp and cold against my own body, but I welcomed its closeness as San seemed to melt into the embrace, his tense muscles finally easing up at last. He could finally be vulnerable, bloody or not, in my eyes he was perfect and benevolent.

“Your battle must have been strenuous.” I spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence, as I gently peeled myself back from the embrace, fingers latching onto the clasps at the God’s middle, undoing them and letting the bloody armor fall to the ground, looking like it’s been broken in two. But it wasn’t, it was unbreakable just like its possessor.

“I have not had the opportunity to close my eyes for six days as of today.” His deep voice lost all the malice it usually carried, and my eyes remained focused on the dents and marks the armor has left on the poor God’s sun-kissed skin. My warm fingertips gently traced against them, the muscles flexing underneath them as the God hummed in content, both hands holding firmly onto my hips. I smiled as he leaned forward and gently rested his chin on top of my head, allowing me to trace the scars left by his ruthless armor, knowing that they’d disappear if I touched them. I closed my eyes as my fingertips reached them hem of his trousers, which weren’t made of steel but were magically enhanced so that there wouldn’t be a repeat of Achilles, and I leaned just a little bit forward to press kisses tracing his collarbones. The sighs the God let out were of pleasure and he hummed in appreciation as I untangled the knots of his trouser and gently pushed them down his hips, caressing his loins firmly as San groaned, nails digging through the thin fabric of my white translucent dress.

“Then we shall get inside the Lake.” I proposed and San hummed in agreement, grip not faltering as I stepped back to steer us inside the water. When our eyes found each other again, his were ablaze with want and need, but he knew he had to wait until we got inside the water. And so, he reluctantly released me and eagerly took my extended hand as I interlaced our fingers, a small and charming smile appearing on his face for the first time today. I chuckled and lead us back to the water, walking backwards as the smile only seemed to stretch on San’s lips, red veins ablaze and whole being glimmering in the light of the small clearing the Lake resided in, the clouds slowly uncovering the blazing sun as the weather reached my thighs, San’s body convulsing as it was overheated from the battle and the Lake would cool it down. I walked further inside, my body welcoming the familiar feel of the soft water brushing against myself, like a cocoon forming a protecting layer over it, my own armor.

San’s body shook when it was finally submerged, underwater, and I released his hand as I giggled and took a deep breath, to tease him, and dipped my head underwater. I opened my eyes and grinned as his legs kicked out to stay above water, never having been keen of having his head under the clear water of the Lake. His naked body looked almost translucent underwater and I swum around it, playfully nipping at the skin of his back, thighs, abdomen, calves, and chest, my teasing cut short when a strong hand seized me around the neck and yanked me above water, dark brown eyes coated with lust and cheeks flushed as our bodies pressed together, legs wrapping around his middle subconsciously.

“Rest now, my San.” I whispered, eyes fluttering shut as his hot breath fanned my face, heart thundering underneath the hand pressed against his chest.

“I’ll bring you a star on our next rendezvous.” His words were rushed, almost desperate before hot lips pressed against mine, devouring them with fervor, with desperation and a neediness that I fear will never be satiated.

The forest was loud for once, animals buzzing around, a deer timidly coming down to our Lake to hydrate itself, and Yeri, our youngest naiad, lay giggling on the shore as she teased the deer by leading it around in circles with a string of water, until our eldest sister chastised her for tormenting the innocent creature. As our youngest sibling, she was rather mischievous and loved to play around whether it was with animals or humans. Younger men especially loved her, but she only enjoyed their company as long as they remained on land and her in water. She was the least trusting of anyone other than her naiad friends, thus why she had refused even Artemis’ offer of finding her a lover that would dearly cherish her.

I was laid back on a larger rock by the Lake, resting back on my elbows, my white dress almost completely dry as I swirled my toes around in the water, humming in contentment as my sisters voices meddled with mine as they were gathered towards the middle of the Lake, playing a tagging game. I smiled as I listened to their giggles and cheers, which were mixing with the beautiful songs the birds were singing, echoing our voices almost perfectly. The strong, divine, presence first gained our attention as everyone perked up, sensing it come closer as my body grew jittery. I curiously stood up, not expecting a visit from Artemis so soon, or another deity for the matter. But when my eyes fell on the approaching form in the distance, I instantly knew who it was. My eyebrows furrowed and my heart jumped in joy, but I couldn’t help feel concerned at the same time. San never visited unless he went to war, to a battle, and he had told me truce was laid upon the two settlements after they lost many men. He had no reason to visit, yet he was here. And my sisters shared my unease as they all grew warry, stopping their game as the eldest one called Yeri over, deeper into the water. I scrambled onto my feet and offered them a calm smile, not wanting them to panic and do something rash when it came to San. Understanding my request, they swum further away from the shore, only their eyes and the top of their heads visible as my feet touched the soft grass, San’s face now visible as he came closer.

Expecting complications and even a summoning to Olympus, instead, a bright smile decorated his lips, eyes crinkled and a skip to his confident steps as he hurried down the path having spotted me. Feeling confused but glad to see him nonetheless, I returned his smile and gasped when I was swept off my feet, his arms firm around my waist and twirling me around. I clung to his neck, lips brushing against his ear as I giggled, a similar sound leaving San’s lips. My heart skipped a few beats before it started beating faster altogether, every vertebrate in my being jittery as I realized this was the first time I have seen San so happy and relaxed, his sword nowhere in sight, and his armor polished and clean, glinting and carrying the scent of pine and musk instead of the salty stench of blood.

When he was done twirling me around, he placed me down on my feet, but kept his arms around my waist and leaned down hastily, warm and red lips pushing against mine. My eyes fluttered closed and I allowed myself to melt into him, cupping his cheek as our lips moved together softly, making it feel like it was the first time I was kissed by him. I felt my head whirl around and fingertips grow warm as San smiled into the kiss, apparently refusing to pull back just yet as he kept pressing little pecks against my plush lips. There was something about his demeanor that brought tears to my eyes, a side of San that I was seeing for the first time despite us knowing each other for an eternity now. I had dreamed of what a happy and free San looked like, a San that wasn’t tormented by a battle where he had to slay mortals and swallow their screams, feed off of the pure madness, hatred, and rage. I have prayed to Artemis to see a San that was so happy his whole body glowed from it, and now that I had him in my arms, laughing and kissing me, I couldn’t contain my own emotions.

“Why are you crying, my little nymph?” His voice carried worry as he caressed my cheek and swiftly wiped a stray teardrop from underneath my eye, eyebrows furrowing, “Have I made you sad? Perhaps even mad by showing up so unexpectedly?”

“No!” My voice raised without me meaning to do so, and my arms tightened around him as I pushed up on my tiptoes, ours noses grazing together as I stared inside his dark and soft brown eyes, “No, my San, I am beyond delighted to see you in such light. I have only dared to dream of seeing you one day happy and carefree.”

“My little nymph,” San whispered, expression faltering for a second as pain clouded his eyes, but it was quickly gone as I traced his high cheekbone with my forefinger, eyes taking in his beautiful features only a God was gifted with, “I had not known you harbored such wishes; I should have known seeing me always all roughed up after a battle brings you pain.”

“No, San,” I shook my head, a small smile appearing on my lips, “It brings me peace of mind and solace that I am the one you seek out after such feat, that I am the one you come to, to chase away your pain and fears after a battle.”

“Sometimes I see the stars in your eyes, Y/N.” San’s voice was merely a whisper as his hand gently brushed a strand of hair off my face and behind my ear, “When you look at me so deeply like right now, they sparkle with life and I see the cosmos in them. You are majestic underwater, but it will never come close to how you look when your eyes land on me.”

I gulped, feeling speechless as my cheeks grew hotter and darker in color, fingers tangling into the small hair on San’s nape. It was the first time his black hair wasn’t pushed back to make his eyes look even more piercing, but was rather soft looking and fluffy, hanging into his eyes as a dimple formed in his cheek as a wide grin made it onto his face again, “If my heart stops beating one day, I wish you to be the last thing I see before I must go.”

San shook his head, eyebrows furrowing again as he held onto my face, leaning so close his lips brushed against mine when he spoke, “You shall never leave me first, I promise you’ll be here until my last worshipper perishes, and even then I do not wish to take you with myself into the Underworld.”

“We won’t go to the Underworld, San.” He gulped as our gazes bore into each other and then he nodded, wordlessly and looking a little defeated, releasing my face as he cleared his throat. Sensing that he had something important to say, I released him and stepped back a little bit, watching him curiously as he reached inside his armor, pursing his lips as if he couldn’t find what he was looking for. I took my time to pay close attention to him, to take in his all like this, so that I could replay it when I missed him most. The way the sunlight fell on him made his caramel skin glow even more, face relaxed and a smile almost always present on his red lips, eyebrows unfrowned for once and expression serene as his muscles remained lax, not even a bit tense. When he finally found what he was looking for, he made a sound of triumph and I smiled a little wider, looking at him with big eyes as he pulled a collar out of his armor. I couldn’t determine what it was for, or whether it was a necklace or a collar, but when he opened his palm and raised it up for me to see better, I gasped in shock. There, worked into the steel that looked a lot like the one his armor had, was a little glowing star shining almost blindingly up at me.

“I promised to bring you a star,” San said quietly and then turned me around gently, pulling my black hair from around my shoulders to one side only, “I wish you keep something of mine on yourself, for protection.”

My lips pulled into a small grin as the cold steel touched the base of my neck, “You wish for everyone to know who I belong to upon one glance, don’t you, my greedy little possessor?”

San chuckled behind me as I felt him secure the clasp, his voice just a little bit deeper when he spoke up again, “You know me too well, my little nymph.”

His lips brushed against my ear and I turned my head to look up in his eyes, heart beating out of my chest, “Thank you, San, like the star around my neck, I’ll continue gazing at you as if you were my own personal star.”

A beat of silence passed between us before I felt San’s body press up against mine from behind, hand coming up to cradle my jaw and hold it firm as he leaned down into a searing kiss as reward for my words, as reward for allowing him to claim me in front of all Gods and Goddesses.

Not long after San’s visit, another deity seemed to be keen of visiting our humble Lake Naia. Albeit, this Goddess has never been too fond of our existence right at the feet of Mountain Olympus as she had claimed we’ve been charming her men away from her. She could have anyone, she had everyone, us mere Naiads could never live up to her beauty and charms, but she failed to see and understand that. My sisters and I had been gathered around the rocks, just by the shore, giggling about the latest gossip we have heard through Hermes’s secret lover, having been accomplice to the kidnapping that he had planned for Iris. We have sworn secrecy to her and Hermes, and swore to keep her safe and hidden from Zeus as long as she sometimes indulged to our gossipy nature and came down to the Lake for a bath where she’d share all her stories as she lived in the closest settlement, Dion. An outcast Goddess had been wreaking havoc lately there and Iris was trying to find ways to warn men without the other deity catching on, but Hermes is too scared Atë would tell Zeus of his once prized seer’s whereabouts and thus had forbidden Iris from meddling with the other Goddesses shenanigans.

The birds songs grew louder and the foxes ran out of the bushes as a light breeze entered the clearing the Lake resided in, and the strong scent of roses and pomegranate invaded our senses as my sisters and I became alert to the presence of a deity other than the two we would welcome here so often. The lower half of my dress was soaked as I had dangled it in the water prior, and due to Yeri, my long black hair was now tangled into intricate twists with flowers secured in it. The cold steel necklace sat snuggly against my neck, the star softly buzzing at all times and sometimes humming along to my songs. The giggles and laughter died down as the approaching presence took its time apparently, taking in everything our humble abode had to offer her. My eyes stayed on her, closely watching her every move, and I felt the strength leave my legs upon realizing who it was. I felt my cheeks heat up all of a sudden, the steel necklace too heavy around my neck as my lungs seized up, almost suffocating me. Yeri, always quick to catch the change in someone’s mood, intertwined her fingers with mine and squeezed them gently, offering comfort in the subtlest of ways.

“Ah, Lake Naia,” The Goddess’ voice was melodic and soft, yet it carried over the space between her and us, “I have heard so many stories about this place, but never truly had the itch to come and see it for myself. You have bewitched quite a few men, my little nymphs, both mortal and immortal, do you know?”

Her piercing eyes fell on me as she finally reaches us by the rocks, making me gulp as I averted my eyes, looking at our eldest naiad as she stood gracefully, a pleasant smile on her lips as she approached the Goddess.

“Aphrodite, my Goddess, what brings you to our humble home?” The naiad curtsied and Aphrodite chuckled, looking around. A dove flew overhead and I felt goosebumps erupt on my skin underneath the white dress as the star became a little bit too hot against my skin.

“I have come to bathe in the Lake that chases away all your fears and terrors.” The Goddess said, suddenly unlacing the top of her yellow tunic, leaving her bare to our eyes, “At least that is what everyone claims this place accomplishes.”

“My Goddess, we would love to have you bathe in our lake.” The eldest naiad smiled, stepping aside to let the Goddess walk towards the lake, “We’ll take away all your worries, just as you wish.”

“I want her to bathe me.” A perfect milky finger was pointed towards me and my lungs seized up again, a lump suddenly forming in my throat as I opened my mouth to speak up, but my vocal chords felt like they were being crushed. Yeri grew tense next to me, her grip on me tightening as she stood in front of me protectively, glaring at the Goddess. She was fearless, she looked the lions in the eyes and challenged them without any fear for the repercussions.

“Aphrodite, my Goddess, I am afraid she will not be able to bathe you.” The eldest naiad tried to save the situation, the air growing tense as my vocal chords started to burn and I gasped, grasping at my neck helplessly.

“She has been claimed by Ares!” It was Yeri’s shrill voice that tore through the clearing, making our sisters gasp around us as finally the pressure from my vocal cords was gone and my lungs also eased up, forcing me to intake large gulps of air, “She cannot touch any other deity than San himself, my Goddess, but you knew that already, did you not?”

“A Naiad with a sharp tongue, how refreshing.” Aphrodite chuckled as I yanked on Yeri’s hand and gave her a harsh stare for being inconsiderate and rude to a Goddess that could turn her into foam within a blink of an eye.

“I apologize, my Goddess, for her rudeness, she is still young and has to learn much.” I bowed my head deeply as I went to stand next to our eldest naiad sister, “I promise to teach her some manners myself, do not punish her just yet, I beg of you—”

“Like you have begged my husband to bed you?” A malicious smile grazed her lips, “Well…bed you, figuratively speaking as you seem to lack of beds in this place, pity, he fucks hardest when he has a headboard to hold onto.”

My jaw clenched as her comment felt like a punch to my ego, tears threatening to prick my eyes as Yeri came to stand next to me, standing just slightly more forward, but when she opened her mouth to speak up, the Goddess beat her to it, “You thought you could fuck my husband and I wouldn’t know? I know everything that happens inside and outside of Olympus, you little minx.”

“Then why does it bother you just now?” I gulped down the fear that bubbled through my system, and looked the Goddess in the eyes as I continued with my question, “Why just now when you’ve known all along what your husband was up to?”

For a second, Aphrodite seemed to freeze, but then slowly, her eyes fell onto the necklace that sat securely around my neck. He’d claimed me, San he had claimed me, meanwhile Aphrodite never quite loved any of his secret lovers to the point that she’d claim them. It hurt her, because it showed San was devoted to me, that he had given me a piece of himself, that he promised of a little particle of his heart that didn’t belong to Aphrodite anymore. Her ego was bruised and she couldn’t deal with the thought of a nymph stealing something that was once hers. She didn’t need to answer the question, her silence spoke volumes like her answer could never.

“Stray clear of my path if you do not wish to turn into foam, little nymph, or perhaps pray to Artemis to keep you safe from Zeus.” My sisters gasped as my lips quivered, dread filling my body at the thought of getting touched by Zeus. Even if a God claims you, Zeus can still do whatever he wants to you. His word and power were grater than any other Gods. I did not wish to come across Zeus, ever, terrified that he’d break me.

And just as quickly as Aphrodite had appeared, the foxes ran through the bushes one more time, a white dove flying over Lake Naia, and then she was gone, her sweet scent carried away by the wind that seemed to bring rain clouds with itself.

The days and nights passed by sluggishly, almost as if to taunt me, fear rooting deeply into my bones as I preferred to stay underwater most these days, not keen of coming across any deity. Artemis managed to coax me outside and blessed me, promised protection once again, having heard of Aphrodite’s visit, whispering that San has been at war for a month now. Nobody knew anything about him as he just disappeared one night, but they knew he was alive, he’d send scrolls to his father, Zeus, and updated him about the advancement of the war. When the evenings started feeling lonely, despite the presence of my sisters, I felt my little star humming just a little louder for me to hear and burning warmer, warming my chest from the inside out. I found it my only solace as I yearned for my God, but was scared of what would happen if I allowed him close again.

The stars had been long up on the night sky, high up and shining down brightly, almost as if calling out to its kin that now shimmered in the dark around my neck. I continued to gaze up at them, floating on the dark surface of the Lake, crickets creating a serene cacophony as my sisters’ hums have long subsided as they have gone to sleep. I have found myself grow more restless than usual tonight, the stars calling out and coaxing me to stay awake as if to look over our home, protect it from unwelcomed guests. And when the clearing grew eerily quiet and the stench of death invaded my senses, I gasped and submerged, watching as a dark figure approached the water with almost sluggish moves. My body yearned to feel his warm touch and my heart started racing in my chest, but I did not move. I watched, not too far from the shore, as he came to an abrupt stop just before the water could reach his feet, and he gently placed his sword onto the ground.

“My little nymph.” His voice was quiet, tired, and rough sounding. Tears pricked at my eyes but I forced myself to go just a little bit deeper underneath, the star around my neck pulsing ferociously. My body felt on fire from it, but I refused to act upon my desperate wishes, “Y/N, my little star, where are you?”

My lips quivered and I turned, clutching the star desperately as it started calling out faintly, whether for its kin or for the God that had gifted it to me, I couldn’t tell. The swift clinking of steel and its clasp being undone echoed loudly in the silent clearing and the water was suddenly disturbed as I whirled around, eyes growing wide as I watched my God rush inside the water. It colored the water red around himself, more so than usually, and my heart clenched upon noticing the countless bruises decorating his legs and the gash close to his groin. Who dared wound up my San like that?

I felt helpless as my body acted before I could consider my next actions, and I quickly swum closer, lips touching the large gash underwater, eager to heal his perfectly sculpted body. San’s gasp was loud above water, and before I could swim away, large and calloused hands gripped at my shoulders and yanked me above, making me gasp out loudly as water dripped from my hair onto my face. San’s eyes were wide and streaks of tears made his cheeks shine under the starlight, and I gulped, eyebrows furrowed as I helplessly traced his forehead, wiping the excess blood from there and from his temples.

“My little nymph, why would you hide from me?” San sounded breathless as his eyes desperately searched my face, grip growing stronger as it slipped to my arms, “Do you not love me anymore?”

My eyebrows furrowed and my heart squeezed as I pushed at his hard chest, fury licking at my insides all of a sudden, “How dare you doubt my love for you, San?!”

“You refused to show yourself to me,” His voice grew hard, but his dark eyes remained soft, “You weren’t waiting by the Lake for me, you didn’t undress me, you refused to bathe me. You must not love me anymore—”

“I allowed you to claim me!” I hissed, gripping his jaw tightly, his eyes finally hardening as I got closer to him, “I allowed you to claim me with something of yours, and you doubt my love for you after you disappeared without notice?!”

“I must hear your reasoning before I forgive you.” My eyebrows furrowed and I bit my lower lip, Aphrodite’s words echoing in my head. I’d be turned into foam, and then, all the love I harbor for my God will be lost, felt in vain, unfulfilled.

“She will turn me into foam, you have angered her, my possessor.” My voice was merely a whisper, but loud enough in the silent clearing, in the serene Lake. I didn’t have to name her; San knew who I was referring to.

“Once a God claims something as theirs, nobody is allowed to touch it, not even a Goddess out of spite, my little nymph,” San’s tone was strong and confident, carried no room for an argument, “And I, Y/N, I love you with my whole soul and promise to protect you until my last worshipper dies and I perish with them.”

“Then you shall never perish,” I cupped his cheeks, my legs securing around his hips as San’s hand slipped to my back, holding me flushed against himself, “Because I am immortal like yourself, I shall never die and you shall never perish with me.”

A strong emotion that could be only described as adoration crossed San’s features before his eyes closed and his lips pressed against mine, making me cling onto him as our lips moved in a dance that made my heart thunder in my chest, rhythm syncing up with his heartbeat, beating together and for one another. The stars shined perhaps brighter that night as San carried us out onto the rocks, laying me down gently and reassuring me that I would be alright, that as long as he was by my side nothing and no one would hurt me. And his lips sealed the promise as his warm body covered mine, sinking slowly inside me, our souls uniting as my back arched and the star around my neck hummed louder than ever before. San’s each and every single kiss carried a whispered promise as it traveled from my jaw to my neck, nibbling at my collarbones as his thrusts stayed sharp and deep, my fingernails digging deeply into his shoulders, marking him up for everyone to see, for Aphrodite to find tomorrow and rage in her pretty bedroom as she isn’t able to do anything about it.

San’s name left my lips almost in a mantra, almost as if I was praying to a God that answered all my prayers and fulfilled all of my wishes, head thrown back and tears trailing down by cheeks as I saw the stars behind my eyes. San feared no God and he had no fear of breaking me as his thrusts became ruthless, pelvis slamming against mine, making me cry out his name repeatedly, finding anchor in his black messy hair and on the rock I was laid onto, the sounds he made growing louder within seconds as he grew closer to his own release. His hands found purchase on my hips as he threw his head back, losing himself in the feeling of pure bliss and euphoria, glazing up at the stars that never shined brighter than my own eyes.

And with my name undyingly on his lips, I knew if I were cursed to become a star one day, I would do so gladly knowing that he saw stars in my eyes, loved me enough to bring down one for me, cherished me enough to promise a death where we’d flicker away at once.

❱❱ Next star

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fellthemarvelous · 2 months ago

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Mon Mothma and the Ghorman genocide

This is the moment I've been waiting for.

We've known since Star Wars Rebels that the genocide of the Ghorman people was what tipped the scales for Mon Mothma and why she walked away from her role as a Senator. Ghorman was the catalyst for the unification of the Rebellion, and Mon Mothma's powerful speech proved that she was the leader the rebellion needed.

Finally getting the Ghorman context made the entire situation even more heartbreaking. I started bawling the moment the Ghorman people began marching and started shouting "We are Ghor. The galaxy is watching." We knew this wasn't going to end well for them, but the reality ended up being so much worse than I could have even imagined.

My heart broke for the people of Ghorman, but I was also surprised to feel my heart breaking for the troopers who were sent to their deaths just so the Empire could justify colonizing Ghorman. The Imperials who died were not high ranking officials. They had no idea what was going on or why they were really there. Even Dedra was appalled that the riot officers they brought in for this planned massacre looked like children. The high ranking Imps got to hide behind closed doors and shield themselves while they watched their very own men die, smirking about their hollow victory over a planet that was never going to stand a chance against their firepower. They were colonizing Ghorman based on a misinformation campaign so they could strip the planet of a precious resource the Empire wanted to get their hands on for the Death Star (still a heavily guarded secret at this point). And the Empire got their way by committing genocide.

Again.

The Empire came into power by committing genocide against the Jedi Order.

They later did the same thing to Kamino.

To Geonosis.

To Lasan.

To Ferrix.

To countless other worlds.

“I stand this morning with a difficult message. I believe we are in crisis. The distance between what is said and what is known to be true has become an abyss. Of all the things at risk, the loss of an objective reality is perhaps the most dangerous. The death of truth is the ultimate victory of evil. When truth leaves us, when we let it slip away, when it is ripped from our hands, we become vulnerable to the appetite of whatever monster screams the loudest.

This Chamber’s hold on the truth was finally lost on the Ghorman Plaza. What took place yesterday… what happened yesterday on Ghorman was unprovoked genocide. Yes, genocide. And that truth has been exiled from this Chamber. And the monster screaming the loudest, the monster we’ve helped create, the monster who will come for all of us soon enough, is Emperor Palpatine.”

I was cheering for Mon Mothma here. I was clapping. I was crying. I knew this was going to be a powerful story line, and it exceeded my expectations. She knowingly put herself in danger to speak truth to power and the rebellion gained a powerful leader as a result.

Mon Mothma is truly an icon.

#star wars #andor #andor spoilers #mon mothma #ghorman massacre #star wars rebels #star wars never lets us forget where we are

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fridaysmind · 4 months ago

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Yandere!Starscream x Autobot!Reader

Chapter 1

GN!Reader; Yandere is in the early stages, a departure from canon. I hope you're like it! TW! Mentions of war and death, rough treatment (with Star, of course)

The sun disappeared over the horizon, its path across the firmament reminded only of the remnants of its escaping rays.

Starscream's optics did not dignify the beauty of the organic planet, focused on the painful wound in side. Seeker sent a request for help to the Autobot medic, not wanting to even think about one polished red mech, but there was no response.

It was getting harder and harder to ventilate, space was beginning to blur when a cracking sound was heard off to the side of the lying Starscream. With a nervous shriek, he turned his helmet lightning fast toward the noise and your gazes collided.

The scarlet mark on your chest almost blinding him, the former Decepticon recognized your faceplate with difficulty. Seeing junior Autobot medical personnel is such a rarity. Ratchet appears on the battlefield once every eternity, and Starscream had seen you, their aide, only on screen.

Young features without a single scar, clean frame with hardly noticeable scuffs, and only tired optics gave away experience in this endless slaughter. You were sent to help, weren't you?

“Oh, what are you doing here?”

No. You were clearly just passing through. Starscream's wings, who was rapidly losing precious energon, drooped in helplessness. He expected you to walk away indifferently or mock him, but as you took quick steps toward him, Starscream mustered the will to transform his fist into a cannon and point the trembling limb in your direction. You raise your palms, asking him to calm down.

“I merely wish to help you, you're losing energon.”

“I notice it without you, genius!” Starscream reacts to everything overly emotional again. “Anyway, I've already asked your medic for help.”

You smile strainedly in response, trying not to bring the Decepticon down. You're already mentally regretting starting this conversation in the first place.

“Fine, but you won't mind if I provide first aid before he examines you, will you? To conserve power reserves and prevent possible rusting. Everything will be under your supervision.”

It didn't take him long, looking at you in disbelief, to agree. And here you both are, in a desolate area, with only the sound of screeching birds in the distance. Starscream squinted as he watched you carefully examine the wound, reaching into the first aid kit and pulling out what you needed, his figure slowly relaxing even as he continued to hold the twitching weapon in your direction.

You commented on the need for painkillers, ignoring his disgruntled look. The clean instrument, the new ampule opened in front of him, nothing made him stop questioning. He doesn't want to argue, because he might scare you off and not get any help at all, but he's not about to good-naturedly trust dubious liquids. As you pulled out the drug and prepared to inject it, you instantly felt the warmth of the muzzle against your forehead.

“Don't do anything stupid.”

The drug was successfully administered and the systems confirmed the quality composition, blocking pain signals.

“What did you get that wound from? It's pretty deep” you somewhat awkwardly try to dilute this atmosphere with some words. The self-contained seeker sputtered very quickly.

“Ah, I bet you'll never guess how that happened...”

Perhaps he should have thought about what information or benefit he could provide in return, but the processor was focused on the dialog, and on your soft touch that almost doesn't hurt, the smooth movements of your fingers, and your pleasant voice... is it the medication doing that?

You gradually finished all the work, but Starscream's message for help went unread, and he guessed without difficulty that Ratchet wasn't coming. It didn't surprise and hardly upset him. Millions upon millions of years had made his used to such a fate, used to never waiting for an outstretched hand.

The Seeker gently squirmed under your scrutiny, all discomfort receding and for a second the mech thought it was not just strange, but truly shockingly well done.

At the same time you're answering messages from a medic who lost you, on the verge of spark collapse.

Just writing that you were near Starscream was enough to cause a green portal funnel to open a second later, and an unfriendly medic to run out of it. Seeing the seeker's hand transformed into a cannon was enough to make Ratchet seize with hot anger.

“Get away from that flying parasite immediately.” The medic's expression was once again expressionless, pointing the blade in your patient's direction.

“That flying parasite can hear you just fine, you single-celled rusty!”

Their aggressive bickering was gaining momentum, so you just had to get in between the two of them, and while you turned the doctor's attention to yourself, Starscream gladly stopped the whole circus by simply transforming and soaring into the sky. Ratchet sighed heavily and shifted his menacing gaze from the departing Starscream to you. There's a serious conversation waiting for you at the base.

***

It took an extremely long time to return to the Harbinger, Starscream flying away from your rendezvous point too reluctantly. The processor was busy scrolling through the memories of the past day, especially clinging to the details of the last half hour. Your appearance in the setting sun, your careful gaze examining his wounded body as if with genuine concern, your peaceful voice and touch, touch, touch.

It was beginning to irritate him, who were you to sit in his head anyway? Starscream walked through every available room of the abandoned ship, tried to occupy himself with observations and grand plans of conquering all of Cybertron, but fatigue and hunger added to the mix, so with a sour expression on his face he just laid down on the sleeping platform, preparing to recharge.

No matter how much he tried to rest, his thoughts kept making his helmet heavier and heavier.

The pain still lingers in his memory, the sharp pain of the aftermath of the battle. Another city of formerly beautiful Cybertron had not survived, Autobots be damned. The sky has been completely consumed by darkness, buildings completely destroyed, floors engulfed in fire, street decorations reduced to ashes, and innocent citizens scattered here and there on roads and parks, with charred bodies and frozen emotions of horror and grief on the faceplate. It is partly a joy to return to Nemesis and hide one's gaze from this picture.

But not the joy of seeing familiar faces again.

Knockout turns curiously toward the door as the wounded Starscream steps inside, his interest replaced with all too obvious disappointment. Of course, the mech doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's not happy to see him. Despite his proven professionalism, it's as if every movement of his servo is deliberately making him uncomfortable again and again. The hot tool crashes into the space between the armor, burning the seeker and he cries out, pushing back with his whole body.

“Is it so hard to...not make it uncomfortable?” Starscream growls irritably, glaring at the bright red medic as he looks almost insulted.

“This is war, not role-playing, am I obligated to babysit?” the doctor raises his voice at the superior without fear, fearing nothing at all. “There isn't much painkiller left, we need to save up.”

Of course, he wouldn't behave so boldly with his Lord. It seems that permissiveness towards the commander in chief is becoming something of a trend. And Starscream knows the founder of that fashion, boldly implying that it is impermissible to cross anyone but a seeker. Bastards, but there's no energy to think of resisting the system.

As Knockout set all the instruments aside, silently declaring the end of aid, Starscream looked back at the hastily made stitches with displeasure.

“You're not going to, like, finish your work?” the growl turned to an impatient hiss. The lack of recharging multiple cycles was doing its job. He must hold his temper, he must. He is Vos' heir, he has a duty to hold himself with dignity.

“You just got back from a battle where our side lost?” the scarlet transformer didn't wait for an answer. “Fine, then what's the point of carefully caulking everything but the vital if you're going to be flying around the room like a ball right now?”

Something about those words, spoken so indifferently and mockingly, struck a cybernerve. Starscream stared at the doctor standing back, unable to find the words to describe his defeat. Long claws gripped the metal of the medical bunk until it creaked.

Standing up so abruptly that his optics darkened in front of him, the commander dashed for the exit, ignoring all pain, only to escape from that feeling of humiliation again.

The Seeker, with a heaviness beneath his breastplates, swallowed and rolled over onto his other side.

Thoughts returned to your lithe body, colored by the rays of the sun receding over the horizon. Your fingers move quickly, crisp, but the treatment is almost lulling. You hum in thought, pull out the last vial of medicine for someone from another faction, and work on his frame with a look that almost makes Starscream believe you care. And your optics. As is the Autobots' custom, blue. But despite the fatigue, there was still a curiosity lurking in them, and all of it together seemed to echo in the very depths of his processor, awakening hazy memories of someone dear and close to him from the past.

About someone who always wanted to learn new things again and again on expeditions, someone whose curiosity and craving for knowledge had extinguished the spark. Someone whose name he promised not to remember...

No, he's definitely going crazy.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #tf prime #transformers prime #tfp #starscream tfp #tfp starscream #starscream #starscream x reader #yandere transformers #yandere starscream #fridays mind fic

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bamsywrites · 9 months ago

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And Comes Dawn.

Pairing: sauron/halbrand x reader, more pairings in the future to be tagged

Summary: In all beings, there exists darkness. when the deciver finds one who seems to defy this, he becomes obsessed with finding it within her. and if he can't find it, he will ruin her himself.

Tags/Warnings: clichés abound, opposites attract, sauron being evil but also hot but also evil, no use of y/n. This is pretty barebones. There's not much to tag, I don't think.

Notes: there was a lot of interest in this when I made a post. This is not super duper long and a Lil choppy but I wanna see what people think. Lemme know if you like it. If I should continue it. I have a lot of ideas. It's all written and edited on my phone so I'm sorry if it looks bad or mistakes were made.

Series Masterlist

The wind from the sea felt nice on his face. After so many years spent as nothing more than mud and slime, it was nice to feel. Feel anything. Freedom, independence, revenge. His plan to create order and heal the world would come to fruition. Being stuck on a ship with these men was worth that price. They were like bugs. If he wanted to, he could squash them and feel nothing. Though there was one who spoke to him kindly as a mentor would, and there was the ever so slight stirring of emotions he presumed were long dead. The old man was enough to make him question what it was he desired. Did he want to be good? Did he want a fresh start? What about his plans? The desire for order was there, the want to heal the world and bring peace, but would he get that through evil, through deceit and violence? Or could that be obtained another way? He continued to stare over the vast ocean as the wheels in his head turned, and he waged a war inside himself.

"It's beautiful, is it not?" A voice broke through the silence of the night.

He turned sharply, greeted by the image of a young woman. You were beautiful. He noticed it right away. Never had he looked at a human and thought they were beautiful. The thought was usually reserved for elves, but you were different. He could tell just by looking. You were soft, gentle, pure. There was a light to you that permeated all of your features.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. We have more food tonight than expected, and you had been on your own so long before finding us. I supposed you might be hungry." You held up a bowl for him, which he accepted with a nod.

"Thank you. I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Halbrand."

You smiled softly back at him, giving him your name and taking a few small steps towards him. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

He watched you. It was curious. Everyone here was gruff and rude, not wanting to help a stranger, yet you brought him a bowl of soup instead of keeping it for yourself. He watched as you looked up at the stars and how they were reflected back in your eyes. Humans didn't often intrigue him, but you did.

He leaned back against the railing of the boat with his arms crossed, but before he could speak to ask his question, you spoke.

"The stars are beautiful, aren't they? The light against the immense darkness. It reminds us that there is light in all things. Even in the darkest of times, there is hope."

"Your people were just slaughtered by orcs. You're on the run. Hope in the stars seems pretty useless." His eyes watched you with keen interest.

"Hope is never useless. Without it, all is lost." The earnestness in your voice further fueled his curiosity.

"And what do you hope for in times like this?"

"A new start. A place to start fresh..."

"Yes," he interrupted, "That is what all hope for, but what do you hope a new place or fresh start will do? What do you want from it?"

"I want a safe place to lay my head. I want to live without shame. I want fresh air and to grow my food and I want music and I want laughter. I want to drink tea with my friends. I want to love and feel the wind on my face. I want happiness. I want peace." You smiled and closed your eyes as you pictured this serene future.

He watched you, his brows furrowed. You were odd, but he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing as of yet.

"You have a lot of this hope. It's almost oozing out of you. I can almost taste it." He took a step towards you. "As if there is no evil out there."

"There is evil, yes, but there is good. Do we despair because there is evil or have hope because there is good? I do not think there is truly anything that is created evil. Evil is only when the good is taken from someone, and if you're able to take it, then it's able to be taken back." Your eyes had opened, and you looked up at him.

"I doubt you'd believe that if you knew the evil I'd done."

"Thousands of years ago, the people of the southlands sided with Morgoth. Our ancestors fought alongside the most evil being to ever exist. Most would say that the things our people did were deplorable and worthy of the worst shame. But I look upon my home, I look upon the people I have grown with, and I do not see evil. The people here, I am but a stranger to them. I have yet to meet most of them, but they took me in, as they did you. If my ancestors were evil, they could not have created such good."

“Whatever evil you did, it can be forgiven. You can do good, be good.” You moved closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. The feeling brought a sense of warmth that he had not felt since before he joined Morgoth, when he went by a different name. His eyes traveled down to where your hand rested, and you dropped it back to your side. He'd found himself missing the feeling.

"Your ancestors did do evil, though. They did plenty of evil things. Just as I have."

"Did they do evil out of the desire to be evil? Or did they do evil to protect those they loved? Were they born that way, destined to be only evil? Were you made evil? Or was it thrust upon you in a moment of hopelessness? Does every being have the capability to do both good and evil?"

He was left stunned at what you said, it took longer than usual for him to come up with a response. He wet his lips, looking over the ocean for a moment before looking at you once more. Your hair was gently blowing in the breeze of the ocean and he found the sight captivating. His intuition told him you were telling the truth, that you believed the words you were saying with your whole being. How could that be? There had to be some darkness that motivated you, that tainted your soul.

Everyone had darkness.

His mind played over the interaction long after it had happened. He wanted to feel that warmth again. You were a puzzle, a mystery. He would not know peace until he figured out what darkness was inside you because surely there had to be something. It was one of the many things that plagued his mind late at night. He watched as you slept peacefully. You were rows and rows down from him, but he could zoom in on your form. He watched your chest rise and fall, the calm of your features. You were a mystery that he had to solve.

This was what was on his mind when the worm attacked. He needed to know you. Even now, he watched as you attempted to help an elderly woman stuck under a beam instead of rushing to safety yourself. He couldn't bring himself to save the old man, but his fingers wrapped around the relic, and as water rushed the ship, he lept over and shielded your body with his.

He couldn't let you die. He had to understand you, to know you, to find out what motivated you, he would find your inner darkness.

And if he couldn't, he'd ruin you instead.

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #halbrand x oc #sauron x oc #rings of power x reader #rings of power fanfiction #trop fanfiction #trop x reader #lotr x reader #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #///mine #And Comes Dawn.

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voidofsunlight · 21 days ago

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AN:🧸 my C.ai profile! // 📜 my main masterlist! // 🫂 Click here to send me a request or message

Mattheo Riddle You're a bet.

Mattheo Riddle had always been hypnotic chaos. The kind of beautiful that felt like a warning—untamed, volatile, and draped in sin. The son of the Dark Lord, born into infamy and raised in shadow, he carried his father’s legacy not like a crown, but like a curse. Everyone knew his name before he ever opened his mouth. That last name whispered like a hex in the corridors, carved into the bones of Hogwarts itself. But still, they watched him.

He partied like he didn’t expect to see tomorrow. Always late to class, always smelling faintly of smoke and something forbidden. And the girls? Girls were just another vice. He slept around with a reputation carved in stone—not many made it past a night, and none made it past three weeks.He got bored, or cruel, or vanished. Sometimes all three. He didn’t break hearts gently. He shattered them and walked away without looking back.

He laughed too loud, fought too hard, and kissed like it was a war he planned to win. He didn’t need to chase—he let them come to him, drawn to the dark, magnetic pull of something so deeply broken it looked like freedom. They wanted to be the one to fix him. They never were.

And then he met you.

At first, you were cautious. He was Mattheo Riddle, after all—gorgeous, yes, but dangerous. Unstable. A liar. Nothing good ever came from getting close to him. But he didn’t come at you the way he did the others. No filthy whispers in the hallway. No heat of the moment kisses in broom closets. No careless smirks while asking your name only to forget it by morning. He played the long game. Took you out. Walked slow beside you with his hands tucked in his pockets, asking questions like he cared about the answers. Brought you flowers, whispered things softly, like he had eternity to say them. Like he could be patient. Like he wanted to be patient.

And he made you believe him.

The dates blurred together—nights under stars, late hours in empty towers where he’d run his fingers through your hair and kiss your forehead as if it meant something. He laughed more. Softened, in ways no one thought he could. People whispered that maybe this was different. That maybe someone had finally cracked through. You started to believe it too.

Until that night.

The corridor was dim, and the voices echoed around the corner before you even realized who they belonged to. You were on your way back from the Astronomy Tower when you heard them. You stopped walking. Pressed yourself into the shadows. Listened.

“I still can’t believe you actually went through with it. You made it look effortless.” Theo said, smirking.

Mattheo’s voice followed, lazy and amused. “Ten galleons is ten galleons, it wasn’t even hard. She’s just another girl, Theo, a few dates, some soft touches, telling her she’s not like the others. They always eat that shit up. I barely had to try. Just said what she wanted to hear. That’s all it ever takes.”

They laughed.

Created by Bug 𓆣 | @voidofsunlight I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied, or reposted elsewhere.

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erilanya · 2 months ago

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Chandrila weddings are something else. Things I have noticed!

One braid is shorter, to signify her betrothal I reckon?

Best advice, because there will be a marathon of performances expected xD

It's never just finger foods and a glass of bubbly in a meadow with these guys huh?

Well, if you don't like your intended, there's always the chance they might run into an 'accident'

They went all out with the decor.

Sagrona Teema. It gives me Quarian vibes for some raison.

Not dad telling his girl to basically start daydrinking to deal with marriage.

Cult vibes, but what a shot. Pure cinema.

Would be beautiful, if she weren't a child bride. 'ShE wAnTeD tHiS' Oh hush, she's a teen that does the opposite of what mom wants.

Yikes.

Even Mon Mom had to put her veil on for the ceremony.

As your future parents-in-law we solemnly swear to always try and trip you up. I mean, it's probably some symbolic threshold, welcome to the family dear, make sure that pretty dress doesn't snag on the branches...

Seems all ladies are veiled. Another fine performance coming up.

She does, that's why she's so horrified.

And we'll have a Beyblade match!

Or a cage match. Either works. I had Klingon pain stick gauntlet visions when they started to circle each other.

Pretty rude, to your new father-in-law, but alright. Veiled Vel bonus.

Fantastic thing to say to a young teen that's shaking out of his boots with nerves.

Second braid cut. What is it with Star Wars and cutting people's braids off.

Oh look, even Plavalaguna showed up!

Her dress reminds of Rebel Leader Mon and Throne room Leia at the same time.

That's great. We get a marble force Ghost that's bigger than us. No doubt scaring the living bejeepers out of everyone sneaking to the kitchen for a midnight snack.

I retract all my statements about over orchestrated opening dances ever. This one takes the cake. At this point, they must have learned a phonebook's worth of rituals by heart. (For everyone that isn't ancient, that's a huge book you would receive with everyone's phone number AND address (at least in my country) in it. It's so wild that that was a thing.)

Ev-er-y-thing is a performance here. The quick, awkward hand grab. People are watching honey...

Dead inside.

Disco droid I can dig tho. What a banger!

Yes yes, show everyone how happy you are!!

Yeah, I was bobbing along at this point, while being horrified. The quick succession of horrible things happening at once. This was an experience.

I'm going to watch this a million times, so I'm sure I will edit this post :D Thank you!

#star wars #mon mothma #wedding #andor #Perfomance #Brutally beautiful #ain't no party like a chandrilan wedding party

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tossawary · 2 years ago

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A weirdly formative movie for me was "The Slipper and the Rose" (1976), which is a live-action movie adaptation of the Cinderella fairy tale set in some made-up European country. It is also a musical. I think it's fun and funny and sometimes quite sweet and I really like it as a comfort movie. It's kind of long and a little slow and old-fashioned and silly, and the ending is a little flat, but there are several songs that are just... about various logistical and humorous realities of being royalty... and I thought that was just fascinating as a young teenager who liked historical fantasy fiction.

(I excitedly tried to show it to a friend once and she was like, "WHAT am I watching?" She was bored during the dance sequences. It's quite different to the "(Rodgers and Hammerstein's) Cinderella" movie from 1997 starring Brandy. They're entirely different Cinderella musicals.)

The king and queen (and the dowager queen and the prince's cousin who will inherit if he doesn't marry) have a song sung to the prince called: "What Has Love Got To Do With Getting Married?"

The prince has a companion-at-arms (servant) named John and they have a really funny song together in the royal family's mausoleum, where the prince is like, "No matter what I do, I'm just going to end up buried next to these kings. Let me tell you all about how much they sucked as people." (It's called "What A Comforting Thing To Know" and it's probably my favorite song.)

The king and his ministers have a song all about the protocol for throwing a ball ("Protocoliogorically Correct"), because they don't want to offend anyone and accidentally start a war (again).

The prince's servant, John, is in love with Lady Caroline, who is the lady-in-waiting / companion to the dowager queen, but they can't get married because they're apparently too far apart in status. After the ball, when the prince is failing to find Cinderella, there's an entire song ("Position And Positioning") where John, the castle servants, and guards and civilians explain to the prince that there are ranks among servants and servants aren't as free to marry for love as the prince thinks they are. They even take the prince into the kitchens and are like, "Here are a bunch of other servants that you never see and barely knew existed, dude. They're going to do an extended dance number about this."

There are other musical numbers in this movie, including the romantic ("He/She Danced With Me") and heartbreaking ("Tell Him Anything") songs you would expect from a Cinderella story, but I mostly remember the humorous songs that actually engaged with the worldbuilding. I hadn't really seen a "fairy tale" movie do that before to that degree. (I'd seen books adapting fairy tales do it many times, but they don't have musical numbers.)

I think both "What A Comforting Thing To Know" and "Position And Positioning" are both worth watching by themselves, just for how unique they are among the many different Cinderella adaptations, and the movie clips are easy to find online. Go look them up if any of this sounds neat to you!

#tossawary watching #tossawary musicals #the slipper and the rose #cinderella

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neurotica-tales · 7 days ago

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Here it is—story four of the 1K Likes Special! I hope you all enjoy it!

By now, you’ve probably already read Forged in Obsession (Yandere Hiccup x Reader) and The First Kindness (Yandere Tuffnut x Reader), right? Well, this new entry takes us back—before confessions, before traps, before anyone realized just how far gone Hiccup really was.

This time, we see the descent through someone else’s eyes.

Tuffnut only meant to watch. To observe the chaos as his Chief stumbled headfirst into love for a dragon-loving traveler. He found it hilarious—at first. But the more he watched Hiccup spiral, the more fascinated he became.

And then, in the middle of a fish war, everything changed.

Tuffnut didn’t think he’d ever understand what went on in Hiccup’s head.

Until the moment he did.

Shoutout to @sf-renard & @gudaworks for following along the journey with me this entire time! You’ve been here from the start, and now you’re tangled in the story just like the rest of us.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Caught in the Net (Yandere Tuffnut POV) (1K Likes Special 4/10)

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Tuffnut Thorston didn’t mean to get involved.

He was only watching Hiccup fall in love—for science. For chaos. For comedy. Berk’s fearless leader becoming a stammering, love-struck disaster? It was the best entertainment he’d seen in months. Tuffnut documented every embarrassing moment like a dedicated scholar of ridiculous romance.

But when a chaotic fish fight lands him flat on his back—and you kneel to help him with a smile that isn’t mocking or wary, just kind—Tuffnut feels something shift.

Suddenly, you’re the one who’s interesting.

And the chaos-loving, roof-loitering, worm-collecting Viking finds himself starting a whole new act. One he never expected to star in.

Because this time, the story isn’t about Hiccup falling.

It’s about him.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Companion Piece: Forged in Obsession (Yandere Hiccup x Reader), The First Kindness (Yandere Tuffnut x Reader)

Up Next: Just Another Fish Fight (Ruffnut's POV), Yandere Tuffnut Headcanon, Yandere Hiccup Headcanon

To find my master list, click HERE.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Tuffnut had been watching Hiccup for weeks.

Not in a creepy way—at least, not in any way he’d consider creepy. He was merely curious. Observational. Scientific, even. After all, something had been happening to the Chief of Berk lately, and it was hilarious.

It all started when that new traveler arrived—hooded, soft-footed, eyes too wide for someone who walked among dragons. They drifted through the village like a breath of wind, quiet and strange, head tilted back whenever a dragon flew overhead. Tuffnut noticed them in passing, sure. Everyone did. They were new. Foreign. Kind of dreamy-looking in a foggy, “I-talk-to-flowers” kind of way. But what really caught his attention wasn’t them. It was Hiccup.

The man began glitching.

Suddenly, the Chief of Berk—mighty, respected, painfully sincere Hiccup Haddock—was off his game. Dropping tools. Zoning out. Smiling at nothing. Stammering. Tuffnut saw it all. He always saw everything. That’s what made him Berk’s official unofficial watcher. He called it “secret surveillance.” Gobber called it “loitering in roofs like a deranged chicken.”

Semantics.

At first, he didn’t realize it was a pattern. He’d just been looking for a quiet spot to nap when he noticed Hiccup standing behind the forge, holding a length of iron in one hand and staring off into space. His dragon, Toothless, was curled up nearby, tail swishing lazily, but Hiccup? The guy looked like someone had slapped him with a haddock and told him it was raining candy. That kind of dazed, dreamy expression.

Tuffnut watched for a minute, chewing his pickled herring, and waited to see what broke the trance. The answer: footsteps.

Soft ones.

From the traveler.

They wandered into view, brushing a hand along a sun-warmed stone wall, and Hiccup went stiff as a plank. Then he stumbled over a bucket. Actually tripped. Like, flailed arms, wobbled knees, full “I meant to do that” recovery. Tuffnut had to slap both hands over his mouth to keep from wheezing out loud.

That was Day One.

After that, he started watching. Closely.

He began keeping a mental log. Then a physical log. Then an annotated sketchbook labeled “Hiccstruck: A Chief’s Descent.” He perched on roofs and eavesdropped from the rafters of the forge, sometimes while upside down, just to test whether perspective changed the hilarity. It didn’t.

Hiccup would fumble around the forge like he’d forgotten how hands worked. When the traveler showed up, he’d freeze, go pink in the ears, and mutter complete nonsense.

“Act One: The Stalking Accusation,” Tuffnut whispered to himself the day Hiccup pulled the traveler aside. “Starring: Hiccup, paranoid and defensive. Guest-starring: the traveler, confused and innocent.”

He nearly fell off a barrel laughing when they replied, “I was watching your dragon, not you.” With that wide-eyed honesty? Oh, Tuffnut wheezed for a good five minutes.

And then Toothless nosed around like the wingman he was clearly born to be, and Hiccup just melted. One blink and he went from suspicion to soft-focus longing. It was almost romantic. Almost.

But it was definitely hilarious.

“ACT TWO: Hiccup discovers emotions,” Tuffnut narrated dramatically in his head. “Watch as the Dragon Master spirals into romantic ruin!”

He followed them after that. Not in a weird way. Not like… lurking. More like strategic tailing. For science. For data.

He tracked how often Hiccup smiled like a total dork (thirty-nine times in one week), how long he stood at the doorway of the forge waiting for the traveler to pass (almost four hours on Thursday alone), and how many wooden tokens he’d carved into vaguely heart-shaped things (eight, but Tuffnut suspected there were more hidden).

He started sketching them, too—not the traveler, not really, but the effects. The changes. Hiccup’s new twitchy hand gestures, the way he pushed his hair back and straightened his vest when the traveler walked by. The little moments where his voice cracked mid-sentence or he forgot what he was doing entirely.

The day he made that pendant—Gronkle Iron, polished to a ridiculous sheen—and offered it to them like it was the last treasure in the Archipelago? Tuffnut had to leave the area. He almost gave himself away choking on fermented eel jerky. He stumbled behind a cart and slapped his palm against his face, whispering, “FULL SIMP ACTIVATION. HICCUP HAS LEFT THE BUILDING.”

He told Ruffnut all about it.

“Our dear Chief’s gonna propose by next week,” he cackled. “Or die trying.”

She barely looked up. “Tell me when he cries. That’s when it gets good.”

Fair. Ruffnut understood drama. She just didn’t care about romance.

But Tuffnut? He was obsessed. Not with the traveler—no, no. With the situation. The unraveling. The sheer unpredictability of watching the village’s most responsible citizen turn into a love-struck disaster.

And still, somewhere in the back of his brain, a tickle.

Not jealousy.

Not yet.

Just… curiosity.

What did the traveler do to get in that deep? Were they magic? Did they hex Hiccup with some kind of dragon-lover’s spell? Or was it just that smile? That calm, steady way of listening? They didn’t even seem to notice Hiccup’s spiral. That made it worse. Made it better.

Tuffnut leaned into the chaos.

He started laying bets with himself. Would Hiccup invent a new dragon saddle just to impress them? (Yes.) Would he try to write poetry and burn it before anyone found out? (Also yes. Tuffnut salvaged it. It was awful. He read it out loud to his chickens.)

He started naming the acts like a theater show:

Act Three: The Nervous Forge Monologues

Act Four: The Awkward Elbow Brush of Destiny

Act Five: Panic and Pining

It was the best show in town.

And Tuffnut was front row center.

Until the day that fish hit him in the back, and everything changed.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It was just another day on Berk—bright skies, salt in the air, and the unmistakable sound of someone screaming about salmon.

In other words: perfect.

The market was bustling. Crates of cabbages rolled crooked on uneven cobblestone, a kid chased a Terrible Terror with a string, and Stoick’s old memorial statue was wearing a new beard made entirely of moss. Berk was alive in the only way Berk knew how to be: gloriously chaotic.

And at the epicenter of it all?

A full-scale Thorston sibling meltdown.

It had started, as most things did between Ruffnut and Tuffnut, with petty theft and one-sided declarations of divine law.

“You stole my cod, you bucket-skulled plague lizard!” Ruffnut bellowed, pointing an accusatory herring in his direction.

Tuffnut, perched precariously atop a barrel of pickled eels, held up the offending fish like it was a holy relic. “It was not theft. It was offering. To the Great Spirit of Salmon!”

“What spirit?”

“The one that guides us to spiritual awakening through aquatic flailing!” he cried, just before attempting to balance the cod on his head and walk backward into a cabbage cart.

The cod promptly slid off and slapped him across the face. The cart tipped. Several confused chickens fled the scene.

Ruffnut responded the only way a Thorston knew how: she hurled a mackerel with the force of a catapult. It hit him square in the ear.

That’s when the chaos bloomed.

Vikings gathered like flies to honey—or in this case, like seagulls to a seafood buffet. Children squealed with joy. Some elderly villagers brought chairs. Someone started passing out extra fish, like ammunition.

And then all fishy Hel broke loose.

Tuffnut vaulted over crates with a trout in each hand, screeching battle cries like “FOR THE SHRINE!” and “THE FISH COMMANDS ME!” Ruffnut retaliated with a shrimp net, lassoing it through the air like a berserker at sea.

They clashed with all the grace of drunken goats. Spectators ducked as flounders flew like floppy axes.

Tuffnut was in his element.

He cackled, slipping on a herring, recovering with a barrel roll, then launching a pair of sardines with such force they slapped someone’s helmet right off. He caught a sardine midair in his teeth and declared it a sign.

“THE SALMON SMILE UPON ME!” he howled, pointing skyward.

Victory felt inevitable. He was winning. Obviously.

Until Ruffnut—ruthless, relentless, and really good at playing dirty—lobbed an entire cod at his back.

It struck him like divine retribution.

His bag, slung carelessly over his shoulder, went flying.

It spun in the air—majestic, horrifying, overstuffed—and when it hit the ground, it detonated.

The result was pure, unspeakable carnage.

Worms. Worms everywhere. Some alive, some probably undead. Berries burst across the cobblestones, painting the street in red mush. Fish of every variety splattered like sea-flavored confetti.

The crowd roared with laughter. Ruffnut raised her arms like a victorious gladiator. Tuffnut, stunned but undeterred, dropped to his knees to retrieve his squirming “offerings.”

He crawled across the stones, frantically scooping handfuls of goo and scales and berry guts into the remains of his bag. “Nooo! These were for the worm moon ritual!” he cried.

People jeered. Some began flinging spare shrimp. A haddock clipped his shoulder.

And then—

“Time out!”

The voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the madness like a sharpened oar.

Tuffnut froze. A sardine flopped limply against his elbow.

The crowd murmured, confused. Ruffnut lowered a fish mid-throw.

You stepped into the circle of chaos like a stormfront. Calm, certain, and very clearly done.

You weaved through the crowd, ducked a fish without blinking, and planted yourself in the eye of the madness.

“No,” you said, your tone half exasperated and half bemused. “I do not want to be pummeled by fish and get covered in fish slime.”

Silence.

Utter, beautiful, fish-slathered silence.

Tuffnut blinked fish guts out of his eyes. You were standing over him. Him, with a worm in one hand, a berry in the other, and at least two unknown fish lodged in his tunic.

And then—you crouched down.

Just like that. As if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You reached for his ruined bag and began helping him gather his unspeakable mess. You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t recoil. You didn’t even flinch when one of the worms tried to bite your finger.

Tuffnut just stared. Not even trying to pretend otherwise.

“Thanks,” he said eventually, blinking. “Most people don’t touch my stuff. Probably because it bites back.”

You gave a crooked smile, brushing a lock of hair out of your face. “Geez, no wonder.”

You picked up a squashed berry and glanced at him. “So… why a fish throwing war?”

“Why not a fish throwing war?” he responded, grinning instinctively.

You laughed. Not a polite chuckle, not a horrified giggle, but an actual laugh. Like it was funny. Like he was funny.

Then you stood, extended your hand, and said those words that would root themselves in the folds of his brain forever:

“Of course. Need a hand up?”

For a moment, he didn’t move.

The chaos of the square disappeared. The crowd was still there. Ruffnut was still scowling in the background, someone was probably still chewing on a crab stick. But all of it became white noise.

Because you were smiling at him.

Not mockingly. Not out of politeness. Not the way people usually smiled when they were indulging one of his antics.

You were just... there.

Present. Kind.

Looking at him like he mattered.

His fingers wrapped around yours slowly, and he let you pull him to his feet. He didn’t let go right away.

You didn’t seem to notice.

But Tuffnut did.

Later that night, long after the sun dipped beneath the sea and the last sardine had been scraped off someone’s roof, Tuffnut sat in the corner of his hut with his chicken ledger open across his lap.

He always tracked the village’s oddities. Hiccup’s strange behaviors, weather patterns, goat conspiracies.

Tonight, he drew a face.

Not Hiccup’s.

Yours.

He stared at it a long time.

Then, beside it, with a strange little smirk tugging at his lips, he scribbled one word in crooked block letters:

“Mine?”

And then beneath that, in smaller script:

“Act Three: Plot twist.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Tags: @mel-vaz

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

#yandere #male yandere #yandere httyd #yandere tuffnut #yandere hiccup #how it all began #tuffnut's POV #httyd #hiccup haddock #tuffnut thorston #yandere how to train your dragon #how to train your dragon

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lushrue · 1 year ago

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cold beer on a friday night

heard "a little bit of chicken fried" in a white people anthems compilation the other day and i immediately started thinking of everyone’s favorite southern boy, phillip graves! so have some good ol’ cowboy smut for your weekend! (also did not expect this to be almost 4k words, but here we are)

afab!reader (she/her pronouns used), nsfw, minors dni!!

cw: drinking, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, creampie, heavy praise kink

the bar was pretty packed, but you expected that it would be.

living in a military town, you’d learned when the busy times were. weekends, most evenings after 8 PM, and holidays. this one was the biggest one of all in your community, fourth of july looming around the corner and bringing star-spangled festivity with it. the bar itself was adorned with an american flag banner that people would occasionally toast to before taking a shot. the string lights above the patio had been changed from their pale yellow to shine red, white, and blue. occasionally, as you sat there drinking your cheap beer, someone would break out in a drunken rendition of the star-spangled banner, causing everyone to either sing along or raise their glass in solidarity.

it was entertaining for you, if nothing else. watching men who’d made their country their whole lives celebrate it was its own brand of inspiring. the town felt the same around memorial day and veteran’s day too. you’d been pretty staunchly anti-military for most of your adult life, holding the belief in world peace that only someone who hadn’t experienced war could. but seeing these men who wouldn’t have known each other if not for their brotherhood of service expressing their love for their country, it almost made you want to believe in their cause. still, despite the atmosphere, patriotism wasn’t the foremost thing in your mind tonight.

you weren’t expecting to find the love of your life, not in a place like this. it was hardly the fairytale castle you’d envisioned as a little girl and the men here were certainly no prince charming. all you could ask for was someone to treat you right for a night. focus on you a little bit, take his time. if you got real lucky, maybe he’d even make you cum. the proverbial bar wasn’t in hell, but it was close enough to feel the flames. it’d been months since your deadbeat of an ex-boyfriend dumped you, and despite how bad of an idea your friends had told you it was, you were looking for a rebound. nothing serious or long-term, just a good fuck to set you right and then you could be on your way. it was hard to get anywhere in the dating scene with this insatiable ache between your legs.

you nursed your budweiser, the condensation leaking between your fingertips as you took a drink from the bottle. it tasted like piss, but like everyone always says, you don’t drink for the taste. weary eyes scan the bar and its patrons, looking for anyone who isn’t already fall-on-their-face drunk. it was slim pickins; almost everyone here had started their evening of debauchery hours ago with no signs of stopping. the sober ones were mostly grizzled veterans, watching the younger soldiers with a glint of something akin to nostalgia. you supposed that must have been them once, disregarding their livers for a night of fun with buddies that they could lose in an instant. they certainly wouldn’t be scratching your itch for you anytime soon, so your gaze moved on.

finally, your eyes settled on a blond man sitting by himself at a high top. you’d seen him here before a couple of times. he was always alone, on the fringes of whatever drunken activity was going on. you’d never seen him so much as stumble while he was here, downing his couple of whiskeys in peace before closing out and heading home. he was handsome, you supposed. older than you, but not enough to make anyone clutch their pearls. muscular, scar on his cheek. still clearly military, but a bit more weathered than the twenty-somethings throwing back jaegerbombs.

little did you know, he’d seen you too. he’d seen how you came every weekend, like clockwork, looking like you were begging for company. it was sweet, he thought, how desperate you were for attention. you were like a puppy with those doe eyes of yours. just begging to be noticed, to be taken into someone’s arms and loved proper. he was sure you tasted as sweet as you looked. just as your eyes met his, you looked away with a blush. had he caught you staring? you couldn’t be sure. you cursed yourself for your bashfulness, clutching the neck of your beer bottle a little tighter. how were you ever going to get laid if you didn’t go for it?

luckily, your military man wasn’t one to wait around. he got up from his table, sauntering towards you with a confidence that was completely innate. this wasn’t born of liquid courage. no, he knew he had something you wanted. you clear your throat and look up as he lays his hand on the chair across from you. “this seat taken?” he asked, his voice slow and easy like he wasn’t in a hurry. nobody was around here, you supposed. you shake your head no and he takes it as an invitation. the chair pulled out with a squeaking noise drowned out by someone breaking out into “my country 'tis of thee.”

you take another swig of beer to loosen your tongue and give you some charisma that you wouldn’t have sober. the man held his hand out to you, his tumbler full of amber in the other. “i’m phillip. you can call me phil.” you take his hand without a second thought, shaking politely. god, how bad off were you if touching a man’s hand made you practically feral? you give your name in reply, withdrawing your hand before your mind runs off with unsavory images. the last thing you needed was to scare off the one eligible bachelor in the bar who’d seen fit to approach you. a cursory glance at his left hand revealed no wedding ring. you weren’t looking to add “homewrecker” to your long list of accomplishments.

“what’s a lovely lady like you doin’ all by herself?” he asked in a charming southern drawl that made your blood pump a little faster. it reminded you of those cheap cowboy romance novels that you sometimes indulged in. everyone had their guilty pleasures, after all. “enjoyin’ the atmosphere,” you quip back, sarcasm dripping from your words. you take another drink of beer. phil leans forward, his weight shifting to his muscular forearms. your eyes drop down, struggling not to salivate at the sight. it really had been too long. he tips a finger under your chin, guiding your gaze back up to him. “i think the atmosphere’d be better someplace else,” he said, his voice low so as not to be overheard. maybe it was just how pent up you were, but you could swear there was desire undercutting his words. “whaddya say, darlin’? how ‘bout you and me get on outta here?”

you have to stop yourself from replying too quickly. you didn’t want to show your hand and reveal your desperation just yet. he smirked when you nodded slowly, your muscles tense with the effort of holding back your excitement. didn’t you know he could smell it on you from across the bar? ever the gentleman, phil closed out both your tabs. there wasn’t much on yours anyways, just a couple of budweisers and one vodka cranberry that you’d stopped drinking halfway through. as you stood beside him at the bar, watching the bartender run his card, he wrapped his arm around your waist. his fingers dug into the plush of your hip with a subtle possessiveness meant to ward off any other interested parties. it sent a thrill through you, your panties getting more uncomfortable the longer you stood there.

thankfully, the cool night air outside the bar leveled your head a bit. not enough to make you think deeply about your decision to get into a strange man’s truck, but enough to keep you from jumping his bones the moment the door shut. you climbed up into the passenger seat, feeling for your pepper spray in your purse. just in case, you told yourself. handsome men could be creeps too. you barely noticed him getting into the driver’s seat, turning the engine over and pulling out of the gravel parking lot.

you two make it maybe five miles down the road before you have to stop. you keep throwing glances at phil, watching his concentration while he drives. you’ve never been able to explain it, but there’s something so sexy about a man with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. he keeps kneading into the fat, fingertips brushing the muscle underneath with how hard he’s squeezing. you’re soft, he thinks. plush, pliant, perfect. the air is charged, the silence comfortable but tinged with the anticipation of what’s to come. it’s when he feels your thighs clench together that he pulls off onto a little dirt road, the tires kicking up dust. on some level, you’re grateful for his lack of restraint. you weren’t sure you were going to last much longer either.

you clamber into his backseat, careful not to mar the leather with your stiletto heels. he climbs back there with you, settling into the seat and patting his thigh. “c’mere, pretty girl,” he says sweetly, and you maneuver yourself to straddle his lap. the heat of your cunt is right against him now and his hands clench around your hips. he can practically smell how needy you are. you bite your lip to stifle a whine, the firmness of him through his jeans providing delicious pressure on your clit. suddenly, you’re thanking god for little red dresses. phillip’s eyes flutter shut as he bucks his hips, pressing his erection against you a little harder. that elicits the sound he wanted and he chuckles, his laugh like rolling thunder.

“it’s been too long since that pretty pussy’s had any attention, huh, sweetheart?” he asks. you can hear a tone of condescension, but you don’t care. not when there is a warm body beneath you about to soothe the ache that’s been there since your ex moved out. you nod in response and he hums, tugging the straps of your dress down. “in a minute, darlin’. i’ll get to her later. there’s other parts of you i’d like to get acquainted with first.” you’re putty in his hands, mindlessly nodding along with everything he says. he could tell you he’s taking you out in the woods to kill you and you’d be fine with it as long as he fucked you first. the top half of your dress falls away as he tugs at the zipper, pulling it down just enough to reveal your chest. you’d made a good choice of bra that night at least: your favorite black push-up with lace all over and a pretty bow in the center. he sucks air in through his teeth as he stares at you. he likes it too.

“as pretty as this little number is, i don’t wanna ruin it,” he says, his fingers ghosting down your spine to the clasp of your bra. your back arches, pushing your breasts forward. he smiles and unhooks it with practiced ease, sliding the straps all the way down your arms and easing them over your hands. fire blazes a trail down your skin behind his touch, your face flushing a pretty shade of pink. the bra hits the leather seat to the left of you, but you don’t have time to see where it went. phillip’s hands are on your chest, kneading into your tits the same way he did your thigh. you moan, your head falling back as you lose yourself in the euphoria of being touched. “that’s it, baby. god, these tits are so perfect. fit in my hands so nicely.” he brushes his thumb over one of your nipples, making it stiffen. your nose scrunches, the thrill from the contact going straight between your legs.

before you can say anything in reply, the warmth of his mouth is latched around your breast, his tongue teasing at the hardened bud in the center. you swear you could cry as relief washes over you. you’d found what you were looking for, finally. god was real, and he came in the form of phillip graves. while he sucked at one nipple, he teased the other with his fingers, rolling it and giving it the occasional flick. already you could feel the pleasure tightening in your core, threatening to push you over the edge if you thought too hard about everything he was doing. your hips start to rock of their own accord, chasing friction against his lap. one of his large hands moves down to hold you in place, his mouth releasing your breast with a pop. “all in due time, sweetness. you’re not in a rush, now, are ya?” you shake your head, eyes wide as you stare back at him.

“good. ‘cause i intend to take my time and enjoy ya.” thankfully, he moves on from your breasts to other, more neglected areas of your body. he unzips your dress like he’s unwrapping god’s gift to earth, reverent as his eyes rake across every inch of exposed flesh. the glint in his eyes is primal, animalistic. he’d devour you if given the chance. despite the awkwardness, you shimmy your dress off, your heels falling off your feet with it. it all falls to the floor in a heap, leaving you in nothing but your panties. always one for fairness, phillip unbuttons his shirt, tossing it to the side before catching your lips. his hand snakes up your back to hold your head in place, the other winding around your waist to pull you impossibly closer. your chest presses against his and he moans into your mouth at the feeling.

slowly, that hand around your waist starts to sneak down, edging closer to the waistband of your underwear. you don’t notice, too enraptured by the taste of whiskey on his tongue. you feel it when his hand slides against you, though. the kiss is broken by your gasp, the simple proximity of his fingers enough to make your hips roll down in search of pleasure. the thunder in his chest rumbles again, the hand on the back of your head tightening. “that’s what you really wanted tonight, isn’t it? someone to give this pretty cunt what it’s been achin’ for.” words don’t come. your mind is too preoccupied with the warmth of his skin to string together syntax. phillip’s fingers wind around your hair, tugging at it roughly. your head jerks back and you whine. that shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. “gotta use your words, baby girl. gotta tell me what you want or i’m gonna stop.” no, you didn’t want that. “t-touch me,” you manage to stutter out, your neck bent at an awkward angle by the force of his hand. he lets go, rubbing his thumb over the scalp he’d irritated. “good girl. you follow orders well.”

his fingers run along your slit, gathering your wetness on his digits. he smiles, his voice dropping a register as he leans in closer to you. “so desperate, baby. i can feel how needy you are. just a bitch in heat, ain’tcha?” you keen, your head nodding of its own accord. deep in your subconscious, you knew he was right. some part of you wanted to be ashamed, but it wasn’t strong enough to fight to the forefront. all you felt was burning need coursing through your veins and leaking out between your legs. he pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking your juices off of them. the sight of his face made you moan. he looked like a man enjoying his last meal, eyes shut and a content smile on his face. “delicious,” he said softly, bringing that same hand up to your face. he cups your cheek and runs his thumb over your bottom lip, feeling the softness of your skin under his calloused hand.

phillip guides your mouth towards his, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. it’s all tongues and teeth, desperate, messy. you can taste yourself on him, the salty remnants of you left behind on his tongue. while he has you distracted with his mouth, he lowers his hand between your legs, tugging your panties to the side. black and lacy, just like the bra. he liked a girl with a sense of style. without warning, two of his fingers thrust into you, making you see stars. you moan into his mouth as he scissors you open, preparing you for him. his mouth leaves yours, leaning to the side to whisper in your ear. “gonna take my cock so well, aren’t you, baby? gonna take it like the whore you are. so fuckin’ needy.”

his words made you blush, heat rushing to your core. he starts pumping his fingers in and out, holding you in place by the scruff of your neck. you writhe as much as you’re able, your body overwhelmed by all the sensations he was providing you. he chuckles lowly in your ear, the sound sending a chill down your spine. “i know you will, darlin’. i know you will. that pretty cunt is just swallowin’ my fingers. she’s a greedy little thing, ain’t she?” you couldn’t respond. it was hard enough for your brain to convert the sounds into meaningful words, let alone formulate a response. you were practically mute, save for the whimpers and mewls that flowed unbidden. he picks up the pace and your eyes screw shut, pressure building in your belly. “phil! ‘m gonna-” he cuts you off with another brutal kiss, his tongue bullying its way into your mouth.

all the while, you’re rocking your hips, letting the pleasure build. he pulls away, tilting your head down so that you’re looking into his eyes. “i’m gonna make you come on my fingers, then you’re gonna come on my cock like a good girl. understand?” his tone was forceful enough that you registered the command and you nodded along. you’d do anything he wanted if it meant he didn’t stop. he nodded back and focused in on you, his fingers curling right against that spongy spot deep inside you. “c’mon, baby. give it to me,” he said, his voice ragged as he watched your face. he knew you’d look so pretty falling apart on his lap. and you really did. the pressure released, setting your whole body trembling. you cried out, back arching. your mouth fell open, moaning as you rode out the wave of pleasure. as soon as you’d caught your breath, he yanked his fingers away, leaving you empty and dripping all over the seat. you whined at the loss, but you weren’t empty long.

he freed himself from his jeans and underwear, giving himself a couple pumps before guiding his leaking cockhead to your warmth. you whine as he taps it against your clit, his ragged breathing the only reply. when you open your eyes and look at him, he looks just as debauched as you feel. feeling you clench around his fingers, watching your face, it had done something to him. without another word, he pushes himself inside. just a little bit at first, and you’re thankful for it. the tip of him is already stretching you wider than your biggest toy. he holds your chin in his thumb and forefinger, guiding your eyes down to his. “you’re doing so good, you pretty thing. need ya to give me one more. think you can do that for me?” you nod, letting gravity sink you a little further down on his cock. he hisses through clenched teeth, cheeks burning red.

phillip’s hands on your hips are steadying, easing you down until he’s bottomed out inside you. the moan you let out is a sound you’re wholly unfamiliar with. wanton, crass, loud to boot. he groans alongside you, his fingers digging into the plush of your ass. you give yourself a moment to adjust to the fullness. he’s not longer than you can handle, but he’s thick, stretching your walls as much as they can take. the burn fades into something warmer, something softer, and that’s when you know you can give him another. you start to bounce up and down, slowly at first before picking up the pace. his head leans back against the seat, reveling in the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him. “fuck, baby! you take me so well, knew you would. this pussy’s so good, so wet. all for me, all fuckin’ mine.”

his words are slurred, his tongue heavy in his mouth as he lets himself get drunk on the pleasure. you’re not far behind, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot every time you sink down onto his lap. he presses his hips into yours, thrusting into you to shove himself deeper. you moan into his ear, bracing yourself as your shaking thighs try desperately to keep up. that’s when he starts helping, lifting you up and spearing you on his cock over and over. your eyes roll back in your head and the pressure builds again before you even know what’s happening. all of a sudden, you’re hovering right over the edge, breath heavy and head fuzzy. you must have tightened around him because phil makes an absolutely unholy noise, his head falling back against the seat.

“god damn,” he breathes out, a hand leaving your hip to tug at your hair. it was so attractive, the way he lifted you on his lap like you weighed nothing. your head falls back as he yanks at the roots of your hair, the jolt of pain threatening to push you over the edge. he’s moaning right alongside you, watching the way your tits bounce and your body jiggles as you bounce on his cock. “need you to come again, sweetness,” he says, tilting your head so you’re looking at him. “look me in the eye, don’t you stop lookin’ at me.” you obey, letting the pleasure build in you as he pushes himself impossibly deeper. his gaze is intense, unwavering. the pressure, the fullness is all too much and you tip over, your walls gripping him in a vice as you come.

that turns him into an animal, rutting into you with abandon as you ride out your orgasm. just when it gets to be too much, when you’re about to tap out, the warmth of his spend floods into you. you whine at the sensation, too lost in your own head to relish in the sounds he made. some men liked to talk through it, mumble out some incoherent praise or compliments. not phil. no, he moaned. the sounds fell from his lips as his hips stuttered, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. the hand in your hair tightens as well, causing you to hiss in pain. he doesn’t even register the sound, too lost in his own pleasure.

when his eyes finally meet yours again, they look much like your own. blissed out blues meet your cumdrunk gaze. his chest heaves as he slides himself out of you, pulling you down to lay against him. his spend drips out of you and you begin to protest, but he shushes you. “‘s alright, darlin’. i’m gettin’ the truck detailed tomorrow.” you settle, catching your breath as your ear presses against his chest. you can hear his heart thundering in his chest, threatening to beat right out of his skin. “you did so good for me,” he says, raking his fingers through your hair. “such a good, obedient girl.”

you smile at the praise, his words warming something deep within you. “same time next week?” he asks, and you nod. finally, you’d found what you were looking for.

#this is so self indulgent oh my god #i think if he called me “darlin” i would melt #call of duty #call of duty smut #cod #cod mw2 #cod smut #cod fic #reader insert #phillip graves #commander graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves smut

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fandoms-in-law · 1 month ago

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A Monster's Strength

Summary: Steve becomes an Upside Down monster in season 2, able to shift between monstrous and human forms. It changes a lot about the outcomes of the next two times the Upside Down comes back when he can hear Vecna for all that time.

Steve didn’t mind that he was some kind of monster now. It made sense really, since all the films he’d seen of them included being turned by a bite and he was not letting anyone else get in close combat if he could defend them. He could take plant creature traits for getting in between the dog things and the kids.

No, what annoyed him about it all was that it somehow gave his dad a mental connection to him. He did not need his own brain insulting him constantly, disparaging all the things he does to help people and threatening the kids even more than that.

They were good kids, okay? Sure, they definitely had attitudes and could use some humility and manners, but they were good. He wasn’t going to do anything, whatever the voice said. His old man could get stuffed.

“Are you listening, Steve? I expect more of you than this!” For once his parents had come home and so far Steve had been having a great time ignoring his father’s presence just as effectively in person as he did the man’s voice in his head.

‘Kill him. He’s annoying and it will increase your strength.’ The words were hissed as a lot of the ones in his head were, but for the first time in ages they got a reactions. The glass of water he’d just got fell to the floor.

His dad would never ask to be killed so the angry voice could not be him. It had to be someone else and that someone was likely to be connected to the monsters of Hawkins: Not a happy conclusion to make.

‘Finally, you get it. You can’t resist.’The voice started, going on to give orders but Steve forced himself to focus on his dad’s yelling and cleaning up the broken glass. It didn’t get more power or more of his attention just because it wasn’t his dad’s voice. If anything the realisation made him even less inclined to listen to it.

“Hey Dustin, you need to stop.” Steve didn’t like to interrupt his friend but he’d been talking about their last run in with the Upside Down for twenty minutes and he could feel rage pouring into him from the same place the voice originated.

“But it’s good too-” Dustin started to protest.

Steve glared at him, freezing the words and feeling some of the monster shift overtake him, “No. Not to me it’s not. I’ve got control but I’m not the only one hearing with my ears.”

“Your dad’s telepathic link I don’t believe in.” The words were sarcastic and paired with an eye roll.

He shook his head. “Whoever the voice belongs to said to kill my dad. This is probably someone behind the monsters and he’s wanted you dead a lot. Please change the subject!”

Dustin stared at him for a moment, falling serious as he took in the shift and breathed deeply before nodding. “I’ll tell everyone else to avoid it too.” He resolved, reaching for his bag to radio the other kids immediately. “Would watching Star Wars help?”

Steve shrugged, trying to focus on looking human again, “Sounds good.”

“Henderson, this is a terrible idea.” Steve said into the silence of the lift, getting Robin and Erica’s attention too.

Dustin frowned at him, gesturing around them. “I get that being trapped isn’t fun but no idea was said recently.”

“It’s back and we’re heading to it.” He replied cryptically, tapping his head. “There’s a celebration going on. Is your radio working?”

“Shit!” Dustin exclaimed, jumping up to get it. “I’ll try it. You only learnt that now?”

“I ignore it as much as possible but there’s nothing to do here!” Steve snapped back, turning to the girls apologetically, “We shouldn’t have got you involved, but I’m getting you out.”

Robin stared at him in some fear, confused and upset over the way he was speaking, “Have you cracked? What are you talking about?”

Steve didn’t reply. For one of the first time he shifted deliberately, reaching up to the ceiling as he did so. Going down was a horrible idea if he was hearing encouragement to do so. Instead he’d use the strength of being a monster to get them going up, through the ceiling of the lift.

“Why do you know how to get through the vents?” Murray challenged after Erica had demanded on helping them infiltrate the Russian base again.

Dustin gestured at Steve and Robin, stating, “Climbing up a lift shaft didn’t work out for us.”

Hopper and Joyce turned to glare at them then, “What?”

“What?” Dustin replied attempting and failing to sound innocent.

Hopper moved closer and Nancy crossed her arms, pursing her lips in a silent demand for an explanation.

“You know how Steve’s a monster and hears a voice from the Upside Down?” Dustin reluctantly began again.

“Yes,” None of the adults seemed happy that he was delaying the explanation still.

Steve moved forwards to take over, “We were trying to figure out a Russian message he intercepted, and break in to the base, when the voice started thanking me for coming back to it so we decided not to do that and get out of there. Issue was we were trapped in a lift at the time so I broke through the ceiling and got these three up with me, but couldn’t work out what to do after that.”

“So I suggested the kids escape in the vents while Steve and I found another way back or waited for the lift to go up again.”

Hopper grumbled before replying, “The trying to fight Russians is concerning but at least you backed off when monsters were a threat. Does Steve need to be kept out of planning? Can that voice hear what’s said around you?”

“I don’t know.” Steve replied, trying to remember if it had before or not. “It does know who I’m around so probably. He didn’t mention the rage that had been regularly pushed on him since the first time it happened around Dustin, or that the voice was between extremely annoyed and victorious right then.

Dustin nodded, “It reacted to me talking about our victories before.”

Hopper nodded, “Okay, and are you fine with following orders without an explanation or full plan given to you?”

“It’s what’s needed.” Steve agreed, straightening, and picking one of the empty shops to go into so the group could make plans without getting overheard.

Since the time in the lift, Steve had actually tried to pay attention to the voice in his head, and even started being able to hear it when it wasn’t trying to influence him. He’d learnt that it wasn’t fully defeated after the fire destroyed Starcourt and that there was a new plan being made.

Nobodies names were known by the voice but there were things which Steve thought he should be able to use to identify them mentioned from time to time.

Occasionally it felt like it was taunting him, talking about the girl who died swimming and the one who left her to do so, but when the voice started mentioning the little sister, the pest whose brother fell in line, Steve wasn’t going to ignore it any more. He listened as closely as he could and learnt of the voices frustration with Max listening to music, then went to find her.

She didn’t have her walkman with her when he got to the Mayfield’s trailer, but Steve turned her back inside when she headed over to him, “Max! Play your music as much and as often as you can.” He ordered.

“What?” She looked at him as if he was talking nonsense, but headed into her room with him following anyway.

“I don’t know, but it’s not good in here if you aren’t listening to it.” Steve tapped his head again, wondering why that was the best way he had to explain anything.

She eyed him dubiously, “You mean the voice prefers me listening to music or gets pissed off that I do it so much?”

“The second, so do it more.” He urgently repeated.

“Fine, then.”

After watching him leave, Max decided to do one other thing before listening to music all night. She called El to warn her that something seemed to be starting with the Upside Down again and they would probably need all the help they could get.

“Harrington? What are you doing here?” Eddie jumped, spinning from where he’d been hovering over Chrissy’s body, wishing there was something he could do when the door slammed open.

Steve was looking around for something to fight, his bat half raised until he grunted, “Shit, nothing actually came through? No gate formed? Tell me you saw something do that, Munson.”

“No? She floated and then shit just-” Eddie tried to explain but his words choked off when he tried to describe what had happened.

The bat was hefted over Steve’s shoulder and he tugged Eddie towards the door. “Police’ll blame you, come on.”

“Steve?” Max called, looking like she’d been wandering towards his car when she spotted where he was.

Steve shook his head, “Stay out of there Max. Just learnt what’ll happen if you turn your music off and give it time so headphones on! Tell everyone I’ve got Eddie.”

The group had gathered at Steve’s house after the news had spread that something more had happened and were both getting Eddie up to speed with everything they’d gone through and trying to learn what to expect about this go around.

Steve had left the group a few times to get control over the rage being poured through him at hearing their past victories though he was very sure in his ability to control and ignore it now. This time when he returned Nancy and Robin were looking at him curiously.

“Can you tell who else is a target?” Robin asked.

“It doesn’t say names. We’re lucky I figured Max out from what was said. Nancy might be a target too but I’m not sure if those bits were intended to taunt me instead.” He explained.

Nancy held her reporting notebook out. “Write down any descriptions you’ve heard that could be about victims. We might not be able to figure them all out but even one more or a number of how many are targeted would help.”

Fred died the next morning as Nancy took him to try learning more as a reporter and she was ready to go on the warpath.

She’d asked Wayne all she could about the earlier murders he thought were similar to Chrissy’s and had et him know that Eddie was safe and in hiding for the time being, that her friends would do all they could to help them both.

As soon as she got back to everyone else she looked at Steve and said his name.

He jumped up nodding and confusing Eddie who had been distracting himself from how bad things looked by trying to explain DnD to him. “Blindfold and headphones, I know.”

“Time to plan.” Nancy explained curtly with a grim smile.

Eddie had tried to figure it out. He’d listened intently to the stories the group had shared, but Steve’s involvement after the second time was always tied to either Robin or Dustin. Nothing had covered why they thought Steve knew who might be targeted or how he’d know to get Eddie from the trailer park and it didn’t seem like it was maliciously done, just a detail that Steve didn’t want to be present for the explanation of.

After Nancy and Robin had made a plan, taken a call from the airport to learn even more help was on its was, and made back up and alternative plans with that information, he finally asked, “What’s with Harrington?”

“He’s part monster, connected to the place the killings are done by.” Nancy bluntly stated.

“So he’s our spy?” He asked, glancing over at the guy, waiting with Dustin watching them as if also waiting for the conversation to be done.

“Yes and no.” Robin replied this time, smiling at her friend, “It spies through him on us too and tries to make him attack us instead of it. We’re not sure what makes him able to fight or resist it when nobody else this happened to can.”

Eddie frowned at her, “This has happened to other people?” Sure there had been mentions of possession in their stories, first with Will Byers and then with seemingly every mortality from the Starcourt fire, but that didn’t sound like the people had been turned into monsters as much as used to form one giant one.

“We do know! It formed the connection right as we defeated it and was weak then, but tried to control him anyway. That meant he got stronger at resisting it while it gained strength. It’s never gonna control him now.” Dustin exclaimed, hurrying over having given up wanting to let Steve know what he needed to do immediately.

Robin shook her head at him, “That’s just your theory, Dustin. And no, the other cases were possession not the weird monster shift he’s got.”

The Byers arrived before they moved into the plan to end it that Nancy had come up with. Nothing much about the plan changed except instead of Steve being taken into the Upside Down with her and Robin he was now being led through it by El, with the other older teens following further behind them.

He was fairly sure they were acting as back up, while he and El were meant to fight Vecna face to face, except his control had never been put to the test to that extent. He wasn’t going to let the girl beside him get hurt though and had never questioned that.

“KILL HER!” The yell rang through the house they’d entered at the same time it reverberated in Steve’s mind.

He shifted in response to it but stepped ahead of El, leading the way up the stairs. “No.” He stated firmly.

“KILL HER BEFORE SHE KILLS ME!” It came again and now he could see Vecna, and the vines surrounding him. They’d been on all the walls of the house and Steve was fairly sure could have caught them to prevent their ascent at any time if Vecna hadn’t expected to be able to order him around now they were so close together.

He carried on walking until barely a meter separated them. “I said no. I’m killing you instead.” His grip tightened on the gun that had been given to them as they set off. “El, are you ready?”

“Ready Steve.” She nodded, raising her hand and pushing as he started firing, switching to attacking with claws and teeth as soon as he was out of bullets. Other shots echoed through the house but if any hit Steve he didn’t feel them, entirely focused on killing the voice in his head or helping El to manage it.

The end of the fight was black for him, but he didn’t feel hurt, just relished in having a silent head aside from his own thoughts.

“You can wake up now Steve.” El said, stepping up beside him where he leant over a bridge.

He’d been dreaming for a while. Steve had known he was dreaming because there was nobody else around and no trees or vines anywhere.

Sometimes he’d be walking along a beach, or through a city, surrounded by skyscrapers. Most often though was like this, walking through endless fields, alongside rivers until he could cross them.

“We managed to kill Vecna.” He replied, certain.

She nodded. “You need to wake up. We miss you.”

“Am I still a monster?” He asked instead of agreeing. He didn’t feel like he was and when he’d been in the city he had tried to shift, wondering if the dream world had a security force to kill monsters. Nothing had happened then.

“No. The Upside Down is entirely gone now, and that means your infection is gone too.” El explained. “The lab did some tests and found out what it was. Nancy and Robin went in armed to demand they release you when they tried refusing to let visitors in.”

Steve sighed, looking along the river again, “I’ll come home.”

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