#EXACTLY!!! LET HER HAVE DOVES IT'S WHAT SHE DESERVES!!!!

[ahogedetective]

He hummed in agreement to that. Maybe Himiko didn't always seem like the most active type, but if there was one thing she never slacked on, was the performances she gave and her tricks. Once Himiko was nice and secure on his back, he holds her up steady, giving a sheepish laugh at that. "O-Oh come on, I wouldn't just drop you even if you were heavy. But don't worry, you're not; I can carry you just fine."

As he begins walking, his smile softens at her words. "You're too kind... of course I loved it. I knew I would." Shuichi will always be one of her biggest supporters, because he knows how hard she works, and how much she deserves to have that recognized and appreciated...Though what he didn't expect, was for Himiko to invite him to stay in her room for the night. "H-Huh?! Stay in....your room?"

His eyes widen. Not that she was wrong about him being tired... before her performance began, he was running around taking care of errands for a bit. He honestly hoped it didn't look too obvious so he wouldn't worry her. She truly was so kind to want to offer this to him... and while there's of course nothing wrong with two friends of different genders spending the night in the other's room.. Himiko is still a girl, so the thought of doing so still couldn't help but make him nervous... but he'd bad if he refused just for a silly reason like that. He just prays a certain Neo Aikido classmate of their never finds out...!

"S...Sure. I-If you're fine with that, Himiko...thank you. I promise not to be an intrusion. Ah, and are you talking about your doves? Hehe, I wouldn't mind that at all. If anything, I would actually feel kind of happy if they would even feel comfortable enough to sleep on me." He chuckles. Being the natural animal lover that he is, Shuichi would not have any complaints at all about such cute doves sleeping on him. Cuddling them would probably make sleep feel even more wonderful...

Once they reached Himiko's room, he goes towards where her bed is, and turns his back towards it before lowering his body slightly, so that Himiko can safely climb onto her bed. "Here you go.. Careful now..."

Cut from here, thread with @ahogedetective

The redhead gave a smile to Shuichi, and despite how lazy her smile looked, a happy and confident fire lit up in her eyes. "Yeah, it wasn't easy. But it's okay, as long as i have will and energy, nothing will stop me from performing my tricks. Not everything in this life is easy after all."

Himiko doesnt protest when her classmate suggested to carry him. She just nodded with a humm, than raised her one hand to rub her eye. "Just make sure I'm not way heavy for you, and drop me if i am." The shorter girl agreed quietly as she slowly climbed on his back and wrapped her arms around Shuichi to support herself. While she appreciated the gesture, Himiko wouldn't be happy if Shuichi broke his back while trying to carry her. İts not like she is heavy, but the idea of Shuichi accidentally injuring himself while trying to carry still felt wrong.

Himiko sighed quietly and laid her head over the Ultimate Detective's neck. "I'm happy that you liked them. İt means a lot, hearing this from someone as smart as you, Shuichi." She said, still smiling as she closed her eyes. Himiko wasn't one to get insecure over her Ultimate, especially with the hardships that led her to gain it. In fact, she was always proud of being the Ultimate Magician - and Mage - of her class. Carrying after Archmage's teachings and wisdom wasn't an easy task to do, especially as his last apprentice, however, Shuichi - the smartest guy in her class - not only seeing her hardwork, but also appreciating it felt extremely satisfying regardless of her confidence.

Himiko tightened her grip while laying her head at his neck. Her body was starting to feel very, very heavy now. Since her mind also slowed down, it took a while for her to realize that Shuichi might've had an equally tiring day. Therefore, she thought of doing the only kind and logical thing to say: Inviting him in.

She raised her head off his neck to talk better, though it took her a while to gather enough energy and words to form coherent sentences. "Hey, Shuichi. Would you mind staying with me tonight? I mean, you might be tired too. İnstead of returning all the way back to your room, you can stay the night with us. All long as you don't mind one of my girls trying to lay on you to sleep, of course." Himiko said, with the best of her ability to not start mumbling. Since the day Himiko had adopted Archmage's doves, they all started a ritual (?) of sleeping together at bedtime. At first, she was scared of crushing or roling over one of them accidentally. However, now it almost became a normal thing for them - the last ones interacted with and remembered Archmage - to sleep and wake up together. As long as Shuichi was fine with getting himself subjected to the sleep - cuddle session from her doves and getting up with bunch of feathers all over him, nothing was gonna stop her one pet from sleeping with him. Or two, depending on how their mood was. And if he wants to stay or sleep with a bird, that is.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 20 (Human Alastor x Married Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Angst, feels, abuse, Dead Dove: housework (ugh, housework!)

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Alastor drove through the dirty streets, rain puddles splashing under his tires as the towering iron gates grew closer by the second. It had been a while since he had been out here. Too long, really, but she would understand. Life got busy. Life moved on. Still, it was on days like this that he couldn’t help but think of her. 

She had always loved days like this, heavy dark skies that gave way to pockets of sunshine, the scent of rain thick in the air. She loved the sound of rain and water dripping off the roof after as the world shimmered in the patches of sunlight. She loved the mist it left behind. 

Alastor parked, stepping out of the car into the abandoned lot. Weather like this kept what few visitors there may have been away, but that was alright. He preferred to visit in solitude. It was only when the area was empty he could really connect with her. Alastor straightened his coat before slowly walking through the once neatly manicured paths. Weeds and grass had overgrown in places, encroaching on crumbling stone pathways, but it wasn’t unexpected. 

Time marched on, after all, and left these residents where they lay. 

He hummed her favorite song as he walked down the winding path, listening to the click of his shoes against the stone walkways. There was no reason to look around or ask for directions. He knew exactly where he was going. Alastor paid the other residents no mind as he made his way to his destination.

He slowed to a stop in front of her and knelt, brushing the dirt and leaves from where she lay with gentle hands. 

“Hello, Ma.” Alastor whispered, voice naked as he slipped his coat off, spreading it along the ground. “It’s been a while. How have you been?” 

Alastor waited for the answer that would never come as he sat with his back leaning against the raised surface of her tomb. Birds chirped in the trees, singing their song to celebrate the end of the rain, greeting the bright patches of sunlight. 

This plot had cost him a small fortune when he purchased it and the tomb she rested in now, but it had been worth every penny. It had nearly bankrupt him, but it was worth it. It was worth it because she deserved it. 

She would have yelled at him at the time, if she could have. She would have pulled his ear and waved her finger in his face as if he wasn’t a head taller than her. Him growing into a man never stopped her from mothering him. It all worked out, in the end though.

“I’ve been good,” Alastor said as he leaned against the cold stone, water seeping into his shirt. “I got that evening time slot. Can you believe it? Everyone but you said I never would, but it happened. People want to hear me, Ma. They want to listen to me, enough of them that I’m making it.” 

He waited again, eyes on the clouds floating high above as he imagined her praise and the look of pride on her face. Just one barrier between him and her he could never cross. 

Could she see him now? 

How much did she know, now that she was up there? 

He hoped she couldn’t see him when he wasn’t visiting her, that she couldn’t hear him. It was better if she knew and saw what he had told her. Let her have hope for as long as he lived. Let her hope he would join her up there. 

“Ma?” He whispered, voice thick with emotion and accent, sounding so much like the boy he had once been. “Remember when you said I’d find someone?” 

Alastor’s head thumped against the cold hard stone as light rain softly sprinkled down, clouds choking off the rays of sunlight once again. It was a mistake to leave the umbrella in the car, but he couldn’t be bothered to get up and walk all the way back to get it. Hopefully, the rain would stay light. If it didn’t, oh well. 

“I laughed at you for saying it.” Alastor’s accent was as thick as his voice as he spoke, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the lump he swore was in his throat. Anyone walking by wouldn’t recognize it as the same chipper smoothe voice that graced the airwaves five nights a week. “Turns out you were right. There really is someone for everyone. I found her, Ma. I found her.” 

The rain picked up, drops gathering on his glasses. Alastor pulled them from his face and tucked them into the jacket pocket, reminding himself to be mindful of them lest be break them. Cold rain peppered his face as he leaned his head back again, letting his eyes take in the unfocused mounds of the clouds. 

“I think you’d like her. She’s kind, Ma. She sees me and dosen’t care. She’s so warm and open. Her laugh is like music, better than that jazz you could never understand why I loved so much.”

Alastor closed his eyes as the rain grew steadier. Drops rolled down his cheek and temple as he let them was away the day. His chest felt tight. It was a tightness he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Ma, she’s married already. Big fancy house, but she’s not happy. He’s running around on her. You can forgive me for…” He hesitated. There was no one around to hear him say it. Saying it wouldn’t change anything. Not saying it wouldn’t make it any less real, either. “You can forgive me for falling in love with a married woman?”

Water ran down his face as he closed his eyes. His chest was so tight and his head swam. Rain soaked into his shirt and pants, a cooling contrast to the fire in his stomach that he didn’t know what to do with. 

“She’s not happy,” he whispered. “He hurts her like Pa used to hurt you and I- I’m not sure how to fix it. What do I do, Ma?” 

Alastor waited again for an answer that would never come, listening to the gust of wind that picked up, whistling through the tombs and headstones. Rain splashed off the top of the tomb behind him. 

“Tell me what to do, Ma,” he pleaded into the silent cemetery. He waited for an answer he knew would never come. Never again would his ma stand over him and tell him what to do. All there ever would be to answer him was the echo of her voice in his head, the ghostly memory of her words. 

“You’re right,” he said after a while, “I should introduce you.” Alastor stood, folding his coat over his arm as he stepped back onto the path. Looking back over his shoulder at the tomb, he smiled. “I love you, Ma.” 

Your ears rang loudly in your ears as your head smacked against the faucet, pain cutting through the fog. It radiated through your back as you lay crumpled in the bathtub, blindly looking up at the man you married as blood trickled down the back of your neck. 

Laurence’s face was red as he screamed at you. The words themselves floated away from you, lost, stolen away by the ringing in your head. Everything was both far too loud and not nearly loud enough for you to hear it clearly. 

He’d been so easy to live with the last few weeks. What set him off today? Swimming through the fog, you tried to remember. Eyes rolled in their sockets, struggling to focus as your head lulled to the side. 

Your eyes landed on the splatter on the mirror. Only a few drops, but a few days old. 

Oh, that’s right. You had fallen behind on your housekeeping. 

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t hear the words as you spoke them, but you tasted the blood on your lips as they formed them. “I’ll do better.” 

“Fucking right you will.” Those words reached your ears as he wiped the blood off his hand onto a white towel. You hoped it wouldn’t stain. If it did, he would beat you for that, too. 

“I’ll do better. Please, Laurence, don’t hurt me anymore.” 

He grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the tub, not caring for how your legs banged against the hard surface. You struggled to get your feet under you as he shook you, blood from your freshly split lip running down your chin. 

“You’re lucky I’ve got a meeting.” Laurence threw you against the wall. Blood smeared against the soft blue wall, your hair spreading it like a paintbrush. He loomed over you, large body pinning you in place as he groped your breast. Did he know he was smearing the drops of blood into your chest? The nightgown strap hung limply off your shoulder, letting half your nightie hang low on your chest, threatening to expose your breast to his eyes.

“Please,” you whimpered, “I’ll do it all. I swear.” 

Laurence squeezed you with a bruising group, fingers digging into flesh and fat, nails scraping against the bones just under the skin. He yanked you up off the wall and dragged you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Hands that promised nothing but pain pulled at your nightgown, pulling, ripping, exposing as he threw you on the bed. 

“I was promised a fucking wife, but this is all you’re good for, huh? Just a whore in bed? Can’t even keep the fucking house clean?”

You struggled as he pulled you to your feet, only to slap you with the flat of his palm, sending you to crumple again. Laurence did something then that he had never done before. He spat on you. Saliva splattered against your still healing ribs as you waited to see if he would strike you again, breaking their delicate healing or if he would force himself into your body. 

“Please,” you whimpered, eyes clenched closed as you curled in on yourself. “I’ll do it all. I won’t let it slip again. I promise. Please.” 

Alastor watched as Laurence turned down the alley known for seedy deals. He hadn’t expected to see your husband while he was following another target, learning their routine and what makes them tick, but he wouldn’t complain. Two birds, one stone, if Alastor wanted to double his hunt, that was.

He considered it for a moment, eyes cutting between the blond man who he’d love nothing more than to spill the blood of and the original target. Possibilities ran through his mind, calculations and evaluations of risk. Then he put it all away. 

If Laurence was out and about so early, that meant you were likely already starting your day as well. Alastor abandoned his hunt with a hum, instead electing to hit the markets. You likely had enough on your plate as it was. He certainly wouldn’t add lunch to that list. 

Alastor checked, making sure the basket hadn’t spilled in the trunk. The blanket was tucked over the tarp, keeping the tools of his hobby hidden from view. He didn’t really think you’d look in the trunk while he unloaded it but it was better to be safe than sorry. 

The blanket was thick, hopefully thick enough to keep any residual moisture from the day prior’s rain from seeping through the fabric. One last deep breath and Alastor closed the trunk, taking a moment to straighten his coat and run his hand through his hair. 

He took a quick look around before meandering through the park, watching for anyone watching him. It was, as it always was, deserted, but he couldn’t be too careful. The last thing he needed was to be sloppy. If he was, that would cause trouble for you. 

Alastor made his way through the thin strip of forest, taking his time to pick out a different path. It wouldn’t do to wear a noticeable path through the woods, even if it would make it easier for you to walk. He had to be careful, be mindful. 

Standing in the shadows, he watched as you sat out back, working laundry through a washtub. Your movements were stiff as you worked the bunch of white fabric in your hands over the washboard again and again. 

Something was wrong. You were moving wrong. Your shoulders slumped and your hair fell around your face. The dress you wore looked old, ratty. It was a cleaning dress if he had ever seen one. 

You were so absorbed in what you were doing that you didn’t notice him step from the treeline. He watched you wring out the water from a white shirt, surely one of your husband’s, before setting it in the basket, moving onto another shirt. 

He hated the fact that it wasn’t his shirts you washed or that it wasn’t his home sitting behind you. Modest though his home was, he would invest in a mechanical clothes washer for you if you were his. If you were his, you wouldn’t be sitting alone doing the washing. 

You startled, flinching back as Alastor stepped into your line of sight and crouched down. The witty remark he had on his lips died as he caught sight of the red on your face and tearstains on your cheeks. Tears glittered in your eyes as he reached out for you, hand resting softly on the cheek, still angry from the force of the slaps of the man who got to call you his wife. 

“I can’t today,” you whispered, eyes cast away from him, though you still leaned into the comforting touch. 

“What happened?” Alastor’s voice was soft as his thumb ran carefully over the deep split in your lip. 

“It’s nothing.” You looked everywhere but at him. “I let the housework fall behind. I deserved it. I- I should have been a better wi-”

Alastor’s fingers curled under your chin as he softly made you face him. “Look at me,” he asked as your eyes fluttered everywhere else still. He continued when your eyes stilled on him, “You never deserve how he treats you.”

You sat in silence, eyes trapped by his warm brown gaze, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. It wasn’t fair. It was a cruel joke played by some God you didn’t know if you believed in at that moment that he wasn’t your husband. 

“Does it matter?” you finally asked. “How he treats me?” 

“Yes,” Alastor said softly, “If he treated you well I could walk away. I would walk away and let you be happy.” 

“What do you mean?” You asked, fear gripping your heart at the thought of Alastor leaving you. It was wrong how deeply you cared for him, but he had taken up residence in your heart. 

He shook his head, soft brown hair once again fluffy but straight shifting with the movement. “If he’s angry that you’re behind on the cleaning, let me help you.” 

“I couldn’t possibly-” Alastor took the basket of washed shirts and small bin of line pins and walked over to the clothesline as you protested. With the humidity in the air and the overcast skies, the sooner the clothes hung the better chance there was of them drying. 

You sighed and dumped more clothes into the bucket and set to work scrubbing while you watched Alastor pin shirts on the line. It was wrong how you wished you were scrubbing his shirts. It was wrong how you wished it was his wooded log where you sat behind. Was the fact that you wished it was his small, warm home sitting behind you going to sentence you to hell? 

Were sins committed in your heart and head enough to damn you?

“Scoot over?” Alastor asked as he tossed his coat to the ground behind you. You scooted over and watched as he unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up, tucking the cuffs under the arm garters that wrapped around his biceps. 

“What are you-”

“If we both scrub the clothes, they’ll get done faster.” Alastor knelt, hands slipping into the sudsy water along with yours. He glanced at your wide eyes and laughed, “Come now, I know how to wash laundry. Believe it or not- I even clean my own home.” 

“Why?” The word was little more than a whisper, carried to his ears by the slight breeze. 

“Well, if I paid for a cleaner than I’d have to let them into my space. They’d probably be a woman and that would open up to rumors, even if I didn’t have a distaste for having people in my home. Ma ensured I knew how to keep house and I simply don’t need to spend the money on those services.” Alastor spoke, knowing full well that’s not what you meant. It was an easier question to answer, though.

“Why are you helping me?” You clarified as he wrung water out of a hand towel. Every move you made was slow, measured, and you kept your voice low.

“Well,” Alastor said as he set the towel into the basket and began scrubbing one of your nighties without a thought to the indecency of him even seeing the item, let alone touching it. “If we both do the cleaning, we might get it done by lunch. Unless you’re expecting him back before dinner, we can whip a cold dinner for you to have on the tabel for him and then we can still spend some time together during lunch.” 

“What makes you think we can clean the house that fast?” You asked as you worked the water out of the last dress. 

“I’m an unattached man who doesn’t hire help and works much of the afternoons and evenings. If I wasn’t efficient at it, I’d spend all my time not working doing housework instead. How would I ever have time to spend with you if I wasn’t?” 

He was right, though you struggled to wrap your head around it. He was as efficient in his housework as promised. The man made quick work of wiping dust off of surfaces on the main floor while you tackled the same task upstairs, moving at a careful, slower pace as you went. 

As you finished wiping down the bathroom, you heard Alastor climbing the stairs.  “I’m in here,” You called. 

“I brought the broom up.” Alastor held it out as if there was a chance of confusion. “Wiped down the kitchen too. The floors still need doing, but I figured that would be last.” 

“You’re doing too much,” you protested, drying your hands on the skirt of your dress as you joined him in the hall. Pain throbbed in the back of your head, but you ignored it. It was nothing compared to injuries of the past. 

“I’m doing what I want to do,” Alastor said, leaning into your space and placing his lips against your temple in something you struggled to tell yourself was anything less than a chaste kiss. “Nothing more and nothing less.” 

Your brain stopped working as you watched him lean the broom against the hall, just before your bedroom doorway. He opened your linin closet as if it was his own and pulled out a set of sheets. Everything except the pain in your head felt so perfectly right.

“I’m grabbing a fresh quilt, too.” Alastor called, carrying the stack of linin into your bedroom without a care for propriety. 

“Why?” You asked as you followed behind. 

“There’s blood on this one.” Alastor said simply said. He didn’t need to say more. The way his jaw clenched, and the muscle jumped, said plenty. 

“It must be from when I-” you hesitated as he pulled the quilt from the bed, “tripped.” 

“And split your lip on the soft bed, I’m sure.” Alastor balled it and the sheet up, letting the pillows scatter as he stripped the mattress of linin, revealing bloodstains you never could quite clean. “You know, I know he hurts you. Why lie?” 

Alastor’s fingers lingered over bloodstains. Usually he found the color of dried blood to be lovely, but knowing it was yours turned his stomach. The bed should be a place of rest, of refuge and comfort for you, not a place of terror and pain.

“I- I’m not sure.” You looked down, ashamed. “It’s easier if I don’t think about it. If I don’t admit it, maybe it won’t be real?” 

Alastor hummed in response, “Do you want to make up the bed or start this wash?” 

You were thankful he let the topic die. “I’ll make the bed.” 

“Wonderful,” Alastor said, bundling up the bedding he’d rather set ablaze than scrub. “I’ve got pasta on the stove. While I was in the kitchen, I prepped for a pasta salad.” 

He did not wait for forgiveness nor ask for it as he walked out of the room, letting you scowl at his back. It didn’t matter to him that you thought he was doing too much. What mattered to him was the sandwiches waiting for them in the trunk of his car. The sooner the domestic chores were done, the sooner they could be off. 

On his way out the back, he paused for a moment to stir the pasta. While he loathed the idea of investing in a new stove, he had to admit the control over cooking provided by a gas stove was a wonderful improvement to his woodstove. If you wanted it, he supposed he could justify the investment for his kitchen. 

He made quick work of scrubbing the bedding and hanging them to dry. With the last of the washing done, he upturned the bucket and let the water run across the ground. 

On his way inside, he paused for a moment to drain the pasta and toss the simple meal together. Would it be enough to keep Laurence off your back? He didn’t know, but he hoped it would at least be a start. 

He poured hot water from the kettle he had set on the stove into a bucket and grabbed the mop. By now, you were likely finishing up sweeping upstairs, judging from the sound of your footfalls above him. 

On his way up, he met you in the stairwell. The thought of how beautiful you looked again struck him as he turned at the foot of of the stairs. The domestic beauty of a wife was never something Alastor understood but seeing you, sweat damped hair at the nape of your neck and flushed from the work you’d seen to, he understood it. You made a beautiful wife. 

“I’ll mop real fast and then we’re done up here.” Alastor brushed by you, being more mindful of not spilling the mop water than keeping any sense of proper distance between you. He froze when he felt you against his body, looking down at you as you looked up at him, cheeks flushed. 

It would be so easy, so natural to just lean down and…

He shook his head, pushing the odd urge away. Perhaps he would indulge in it sometime soon. Resisting the strange desire was getting harder, but it wouldn’t happen here. 

Pulling you away from your home so much was causing you problems. You were in pain. The dried scab of blood at the back of your head told the story of a struggle you hadn’t spoken of, even though you had tried to hide it with your hair. He knew he had to swallow the disgust and spend time with you in Laurence’s space if he wanted to not cause you more problems.

Laurence’s home would taint no firsts, though. Alastor was determined not to allow that to be the case. 

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[moonstruckme]

Congrats on 1k love!!! Im so happy for you, you deserve all the love 🩶

Could i request a ravenclaw!reader who's a little volatile (i suppose like dark acadameia) that the slytherins have kind of adopted (because shes volatile not violent and they think its cute). But shes been in a relationship with Remus on the down low and they realise at a halloween party?

I imagine Remus as an angel while reader is a devil and the slytherins were already concerned by the costume but then they notice you and Remus and just loose their marbles. Barty's having a meltdown, evans im shock and Sirius is cackling because Regulus is trying to stand tall but Remus is so much bigger than him its just impossible.

Anyway, tysm for your wonderful self and feel free to twist this however fits you, love!!

Hi lovely, thank you so much! I'm assuming you meant this to be for the Fade Into You part of the celebration since it's a specific reader, and also I don't know the Slytherin boys very well so I feel like my characterization could be wayyyyy off but I hope this is alright!

join the party

Remus Lupin x Ravenclaw!reader ♡ 930 words

You’re dancing with your friends when your drink is plucked suddenly from your hand. 

“Hey!” You spin around to find the thief, and then your tone changes completely. “Hey, Remus, you came!” You crash into him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Remus hugs you back the best he’s able, a drink in each hand. “And you wore your costume!” You grin as you pull away, resting a hand on either side of his face to admire how soft and sweet he looks in seraphim white. “Is that glitter on your cheeks?”

Said cheeks grow warm under your hands. “That’s Sirius’ touch.” 

“You look very pretty.” He grins, and you stand on tiptoe to whisper sweetly in his ear, “Now give me back my drink, pretty boy.” 

Remus’ smile doesn’t waver, but he becomes a tad more serious about the eyes. “How many have you had?”

“Oh, don’t be such a drag, Lupin,” Barty pipes up, coming up behind you to sling an arm around your shoulder. “She’s fine, and not that it’s any business of yours, but we won’t let anything happen to her.” 

“She just seems like maybe she’s had enough,” Remus replies, and his tone is far from unkind, but there’s an edge of admonishment to it that has Barty bristling noticeably. He turns back to you, voice softening. “What do you say, lovely, want to go sit down for a little while?”

You look at Barty, who raises an eyebrow at you. Behind him, Reggie stands with his arms crossed, looking bored with the whole thing.  

“I won’t be gone long,” you say in apology, and Barty scoffs disgustedly, but releases you. 

“Fine, go play with your costume buddy,” he says. “We’ll be here when you get sick of him.” 

You take Remus’ hand in one of yours, flipping Barty off with the other. 

“Are we really going to sit down?” you whisper hopefully, and Remus chuckles. 

“Yeah, we are. Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not exactly walking in a straight line right now.” 

You grin, tugging at his hand playfully. “That’s just ‘cause I’m a rebel. The boys would never let me hang out with them if I walked the straight and narrow.” 

“That so?” Remus hums, pulling you down onto a couch beside him. “Have I mentioned how nice you look yet? You really do.” 

“I’m not supposed to look nice.” You roll your eyes, shuffling closer to him. “I’m a devil, Rem. I’m supposed to look hot and salacious.” 

Remus graces you with a smile, brushing a piece of hair from in front of your eye. “You do look hot, but you look nice too. I don’t think you can help that one, dovey.” 

“Yeah?” You bat your eyelashes, moving into his lap. Remus’ eyebrow quirks up slightly, cheeks glittering with the movement, but he doesn’t stop you. “Is it just that I radiate sweetness?” You kiss his jaw. “And patience?” Remus’ cheek is faintly pink where you press your lips. “Innocence, certainly,” you tease, breath hot on his ear, “but what else?” 

“Dove,” he whispers, “I think your friends are watching.” 

“Hm?” You look up, and sure enough, Regulus, Barty, and Evan are standing just a few feet away by the punch bowl, expressions ranging from bewilderment to abject horror. “Oh. Oops.” 

“I—I can’t,” Barty sputters. “I can’t be seeing this. Are you plastered? Get off him.” 

You don’t, but Remus does it for you, standing and setting you on your feet as Regulus stalks forward. He stops with his arms crossed in front of the two of you. 

“Is this who you’ve been ditching us for lately?” he asks you. 

You start to reply, but Barty talks over you. “No.” He shakes his head. “No, there’s no way. There’s no way.” 

Others have started migrating toward you to watch the show, among them Remus’ friends. Normally you wouldn't care, but Remus is beginning to squirm, so you try to calm things down for his benefit. 

“You guys are overreacting,” you say, as peaceably as you’re capable of. “As if it really matters what house my boyfriend is in.” 

“Boyfriend?” Barty despairs, and you should have known better than to think anything could quell his dramatics once they’ve begun. “God, as if the costumes weren’t bad enough, you have to throw lovey-dovey terms like boyfriend around.” 

A peal of laughter sounds from somewhere nearby, and you look around to find Sirius, eyes already wet with mirth as he watches his younger brother. “Reggie,” he manages between giggles, “are you trying to look taller than him?”

Reg raises an unimpressed brow, and anyone who didn’t know him well might not notice the flicker of embarrassment in his gaze. “Don’t be stupid,” he says, but his posture is better than you’ve ever seen it, his neck elongated in an attempt to look Remus in the eyes without having to tilt his head. 

“Reg.” Sirius swipes under his eyes. “You may be taller than me, but you’re never gonna get all the way up there.” 

“Alright,” you say decisively, taking Remus’ hand and proceeding to push past Regulus’ stiff form. You shoot Evan a half-apologetic look as you go by, still standing frozen like he’s been stupefied, and Barty follows your movement with eyes blown wide. “Just for that, we’re going back to you guys’ dorm, Black. And we’re going to fuck, loudly, all night.” You shoot your most winning smile in his direction, even as Remus’ face takes on a fiery hue beneath the white glitter. “I wouldn’t recommend coming home. Goodnight!”

[luveline]

Hi Jade! Congratulations on 40k (deserved deserved deserved!!!!!)

Can I plz request some KBD Steve and Reader for 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐞𝐛 ?

Maybe they’re on a rare date night and they love getting to be alone together but they do miss their babies!

tyvm <3 kisses before dinner —dad!steve and mom!reader go on a date (for a little while). 1.3k

"Are you sure I don't look really stupid?" you ask as Steve opens the passenger door.

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," Steve says simply, hand out to help you from the car. You smile and take his hand. You've done it hundreds of times, but you remember the first. 

"Woman," you correct without irritation. You've been together for almost ten years and you have four children. Four. "I don't think many people would say I'm a girl anymore."

"Ah, but you're my girl," —Steve laughs as you laugh, pulling you from the path of the door to close it and lock it— "so forgive me. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. 'N' I love white on you, as you know." 

You laugh more at his formal talking and fold your arm between his. Robin has made it so you can wear a white dress without fear of stains, agreeing to have your four girls for the day. Though day is a gentle term, because you don't expect anybody to be able to cope with children that aren't theirs for more than a few hours. You suspect you'll have four or five hours (Robin is well-trained and, more importantly, extremely loving toward your children) before one of them has a meltdown from missing you. 

Dove is the likely perpetrator. "She's really moody lately," you say, knowing Steve will get exactly who you mean as you begin walking from the parking lot and down the street to the coffee shop. 

Sure enough, he covers your hand where it rests in the crook of his arm and says, "She's in her terrible twos. But maybe you should be spending a little more time with her." He isn't judging or criticising you, just making an educated assumption. "Heather steals all your attention." 

"You can call her Heather as much as you like, but it isn't her name," you say, nudging his chest. 

"Can, will, is. I think she just misses you." Steve sees you squinting in the sun and offers his sunglasses. You lift your head and let him slide them up your nose, more for his touch and attention than a real need for them. It's a surprisingly sunny day in late September, the wind blowing warm on your bare legs and arms. "You know you're her favourite." 

"Do you ever worry that it's 'cos I don't see her enough? I mean, I'm home now, but that's only for another month. What if… like, what if I work and she grows up missing me so much she resents you?" 

"Do you think that's gonna happen?" Steve asks genuinely. 

"No. I dunno." You turn his face to yours in the middle of the street. You've changed a lot over the years. Being pregnant does that, but so does ageing, and living. Steve looks at you like you're charming, like the fact of your existence alone could make him laugh. You look at him the same. "You know, you get more handsome all the time." 

You kiss him. Steve closes his eyes and follows your lead. He bumps the sunglasses with his enthusiasm, and his kiss grows softer in apology. 

"She'll be okay. But you need more time together. And Avery needs more time with me, and Bethie needs less time in my lap–" 

"I can't see that happening," you say. "She's your pest." 

Steve hears the fondness in your voice and presses his hand to his chest, leaning back. "My girls," he says. 

You pass him back his sunglasses and look around. You and Steve have a favourite coffee shop slash smoothie place that serves all manner of hot snacks. You would've gone for lunch, but you promised Bethie you'd make her special toast (French toast) and might have been too greedy about it. Steve is a slammer for food even now, his metabolism doesn't slow, and you figure he'll have grilled cheese with his smoothie or a cup of soup. 

You didn't tell Steve you couldn't manage lunch, he just knew. He can read your mind these days. You love it more than you can explain. 

"Nice flowers," you say, pointing at the florists. 

"They don't have your favourite ones ever," Steve says, hand on your shoulder to hold you out of his line of view. "They're nice though, the white ones." He points at a bucket on the low sill. "Do you want those?" 

"No, I'm just saying they're nice," you say. 

"Come on, let's go get some. I should've got you some anyways, that's the point of a date." Steve offers his hand. You take it shyly, not so secretly pleased at his insistence. 

You stand in the cool air of the flower shop hand in hand, picking out flowers. It starts with Steve trying to buy you flowers, you buying him flowers, and then the two of you spend forty minutes picking flowers out for the girls. Avery loves roses, Bethie isn't picky so long as the buds are impressively big, Dove couldn't care less about flowers and little baby ‘Heather’ sleeps and eats solely. You get Dove a small bunch of pink peonies and decide to share your bouquet of white flowers with the baby. Steve gets a mixed bouquet and doesn't protest. 

You have too many flowers to take with you to the coffee shop. You both refuse to admit what's happening until you're back in the car. 

"Are we really doing this?" you ask. 

"Why, think we should've bought flowers for Robin?" 

"I think the thank you movie tickets and the chocolates and the five minute hug you forced her into was thank you enough, but maybe we should've." You beam at him. "I mean, are we really going home? We didn't even make it to the coffee house." 

"We could take these home and put them in some water and come back…" He scratches a hand through his hair. "I miss them more than I thought I would. We've been glued together for a month, and I can't stop worrying about the baby." 

"I miss them too," you admit. 

You and Steve get drive through, and you kiss and murmur stupid shit at each other in the car outside of Robin's house for a perfect ten minutes, until Avery throws open your car door to scream hello. 

"I'm so happy you're home so early!" she shouts, scrambling up the foot well and straight into your lap. "Did you have fun at your date?" 

"Well, we were late leaving the house because I realised Dove's been drawing pictures on my button downs, and I almost crashed the car and scared mom half to death because the sun was in my eyes, and we were distracted looking at flowers for years and now we're home," Steve says. 

"So yeah, we had fun," you say. 

Steve leans over to kiss you. Avery laughs and shoves her hand between your faces, "Guys, I think Aunt Robin needs help, the baby won't stop crying and crying and crying and Dove tipped her drink all over Beth's pink dress. I think on purpose." 

Robin is very very sorry, and she didn't even call you guys, so why are you back? But she's grateful to be released. Not nearly as much as the girls are to see you guys. 

Robin is a great aunt, but you have clingy kids. 

"Mom!" Bethie shouts, pointing down at her sodden dress with a wobbly lip. "Look." 

"Aw, sweetheart, I see it. I put spare clothes in your bag, let's go get changed, okay?" 

You and Bethie leave hand in hand to clean up. Steve juggles the three remaining children dextrously, the baby against his chest, Dove's shoulder under his hand, and Avery crowding his other side. He's barely in the living room. 

"Hello," he says, kissing one little head after the other. "Hi, honey. You okay?" 

"Did you at least have a good two hours?" Robin asks sympathetically. 

Steve nods happily. "We did. Really. Next time I think we might even make it to the coffee shop." 

[delusionalwriter02]

Insta as Nobara's GF

<3 liked by KugITgirl, YujiandSukuna and 548 others.

Yn : i like the way you kiss me @.KugITgirl

KugITgirl : you're the best kisser

↳ Yn : lie

↳ KugITgirl : don't start, you know I'm better at this game

↳ Yn : mayyyybbeeeeee

↳ Maki_yum : wow you lost so fast girl

↳ Yn : can't compete with a master

↳ Satoru_thegoat : somebody called me ??

↳ Yn : clearly not

↳ Satoru_thegoat : well well well, i'm the master of everything

↳ Shokolate : being humble too ?

↳ Satoru_thegoat : of course

YujiandSukuna : OMG I LOVE THIS PHOTO (well i'm the one who took it so it's normal)

↳ Yn : Thankkk you Yuji, Sukuna too apparently

↳ YujiandSukuna : we decided to put those little signs when sukuna talks

↳ Megumi_F : parenthesis ?

↳ YujiandSukuna : YES EXACTLY

↳ KugITgirl : without being rude Yuji, we can already know when you talk and when Sukuna does

↳ YujiandSukuna : you're stupid if you think you're THAT smart

↳ Yn : see ?

↳ YujiandSukuna : yes maye ( well I DECIDED TO DO THAT SO WE DO THAT)

KugITgirl : you're so bossy

<3 liked by Megumi_F, Satoru_thegoat and 857 others.

KugITgirl : SHE TOOK ME TO THE DAMN FASHION WEEK OMG OMG OMG @.Yn I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH

Yn : don't be fooled, she's running everywhere like a crazy dog

↳ Satoru_thegoat : SO YOU TOOK MY CARD AND DIDN'T EVEN INVITE ME ??

↳ Yn : SUGURU SAID IT WAS OKAY

↳ Satoru_thegoat : @.Geto_OG YOU TRAITOR??????????

↳ Geto_OG : She wanted it to be a surprise, what was I suppose to do ??

↳ Satoru_thegoat : INVITE ME

↳ Geto_OG : We'll go to the next one

↳ Satoru_thegoat : thank you.

Maki_yum : I really picture her running everywhere it's too funny

↳ Yn : my legs hurt

↳ KugITgirl : but there's sooooo much to see

↳ Yn : we'll do everything love don't worry

↳ KugITgirl : I hope so

↳ YujiandSukuna : WILL YOU MEET JENNIFER LAWRENCE ???

↳ Yn : I don't think she's here sorry

↳ YujiandSukuna : FUCK IT

<3 liked by Geto_OG, Shokolate and 834 others.

Yn : he's so getting old lol

KugITgirl : THIS PHOTO IS EVERYTHING

↳ Satoru_thegoat : WOWOOWOWOW YOUNG PEOPLES DON'T MAKE FUN OF YOUR TEACHER

↳ Geto_OG : They are not wrong

↳ Shokolate : you look so stupid

↳ YujiandSukuna : denial is a river in egypt

↳ Satoru_thegoat : I'm done

KugITgirl : love I was thinking, what do you want for your birthday

↳ Satoru_thegoat : with that attitude YOU'LL GET NOTHING

↳ Yn : I want Gojo to admit he's getting old

↳ Shokolate : you know you'll never get that

↳ Yn : then I want vacations with everyone

↳ Shokolate : oh fuck yes vacations, have I ever told you you're my favorite student ?

↳ Maki_yum : But we can't all leave ?

↳ Geto_OG : You sure can, let me organize that

↳ Megumi_F : Can Tsumiki come ?

↳ Geto_OG : Of course she can

↳ InuMAKI : YES LETS GO SOME WELL DESERVE VACATIONS

↳ Kento_N : I agree, it'll take off some stress

↳ Satoru_thegoat : some ? it's my mission now, you'll come back without ANY stress

↳ Kento_N : Good luck with that, you're my main stress reason

<3 liked by Tsumiki_F, KugITgirl and 673 thers.

Yn : we'll be a fine line

KugITgirl : I love you dove, thank you so much for everything, life is good because of you

↳ Yn : don't make me cry please my mascara is not dry, I love you so hard

↳ Tsumiki_F : you're the cutest couple

↳ YujiandSukuna : (all lovey dovey OK WE GET IT YOU'RE IN LOVE)

↳ Geto_OG : Little demon come over here, I'll teach you some manners

↳ YujiandSukuna : (IN YOUR DREAMS OLD MAN)

Satoru_thegoat : soooo Kento is the stress still there ?

↳ Kento_N : You almost burned the whole kitchen, you let them swim without supervision, you fight with Sukuna on a daily basis and you lost your ID 6 times

↳ Satoru_thegoat : buuuuuut

↳ Kento_N : The stress is maybe a little lower

↳ Satoru_thegoat : I DID IT

↳ Shokolate : weren't you supposed to erase it ?

↳ Satoru_thegoat : even for me, it's impossible

Maki_yum : Panda I swear if I find one more bamboo in my bed Imma lost it

↳ PANDAA : I'm honest, I don't know how it got there

InuMAKI : YUTA LETS REDO THE BEACH AND BIRD SCENE

↳ Yuuuta : OMG YES YOU PLAY ARMIN I PLAY EREN

↳ InuMAKI : LETS GO, MEGUMI YOU PLAY MIKASA

↳ Megumi_F : In your dreams

Hey! Hope you liked it ? I don't know why but writing Nobara was harder than I thought buuut I'm happy with how it come out, thank you for reading!

with love <3

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love?

Chapter 12

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

TW: Sexual content (+18)

“Tell me he at least gave you a good fuck” Love almost chokes on her tea when Lady Honesty spoke. “Honesty!” They barely sat with afternoon delights and tea, at the table under the white marbled gazebo covered in lilac wisterias just outside the palace, a sceneary worthy of protraits. Love hadn’t seen her sister in a while and forgot that Honesty was never kin on pleasantries, she preferred going straight to the subject. Some, like their Aunt Prim, did not approve this kind of behavior, saying that Honesty may have the look of an ethereal nymph with her long black as night locks gently curled and an intense purple stare with full lashes, but she had the tongue of a demon.

Love always thought that it matched perfectly with her sister, she didn’t shy away from controversy, often getting the truth behind any second intention or misleading speech. Honesty constantly repeated that if someone wasn't going to say what they really meant, then there was no point in having a conversation.

Eoster found it truly entertaining to see her in action. It was never boring to have her sister at the table. And she truly needs some of her high spirits to distract her from Morpheus, the Dreaming and all that mess.

Love just didn’t expect that Honesty would want to talk about exactly what Love wanted to avoid.

“What? I am only asking what everyone has been wondering”. The sister shrugged it off, while taking a sip of the lover's tea. And Love raised her eyebrow “And who, might I ask, are those ‘everyone’?” She perfectly knew who, but wanted to see if Honesty was going to out them. “Your dear sisters who have been crazy worried for you.” Love bited her lip at the judgmental look her sister was giving her. It was a bit of her fault.

She did not answer their letters, nor went to the gathering they often held, or went to visit their offspring when they recently were born. All her sisters have children by now. She knew she should’ve gone, after all she was named godmother of most of the newborn children. And of course she was beyond happy for them. But, at the same time, however, she didn’t have the strength to see them. None of her sister's marriages were perfect.

Well not perfect as Love defines a ‘perfect marriage’ but perfect in a deviant way.

Their husbands were avid cheaters, but so were her sisters. Although they would constantly complain about their husbands being stupid mules with barely a sense of direction, and their kids being clingy brats, anytime Eoster saw her sisters with their spouses and offspring, she could feel a genuine love. They were not unhappy. Messy, yes, but not unhappy.

And she knew it was selfish, but Love couldn’t stand being with them. Her sisters were blessed with love and she, the Queen of Four Loves, stuck in a loveless union. What did she ever do to deserve such cruel fate?

“I don’t think my intimate life has anything to-“ Honesty didn’t let her finish slapping the hand on the table, almost spilling the tea “ He didn’t! Fuck, I just lost fifty years in servitude to Pride. I hope you are happy, Love Dove” How could she be angry with Love when Love herself had nothing to do with it?! Besides the fact that her sisters were betting about her intimate life made her furiously blush and brutally exposed. How was she, the most discreet of her sisters, with the most antisocial of husbands, the one with a marriage that was a hot topic among everyone she knows?

Of course none of them had an Endless husband.

And of course, if they were betting on it, they were discussing it, and Love remembers quite well when they were all maidens how graphic and detailed they would talk about the tender intimacies of other entities. Just thinking that they might be discussing her like they did with those poor entities made her want to hide her in the most isolated room in all the Garden and never come back.

“I didn’t tell you to do a foul bet with Pride. And you should know better not to bet with her.” Her older sister Pride was addicted to gambling and the only reason why it wasn’t a problem that required intervention, was because Pride would always win. That was how she got married. Winning her husband on a bet.

‘And they are still in a happier marriage than me’ Love often thought. Honesty pretended not to hear the scolding tone in the brunette’s voice, taking a bite of a delicious sugar coated cake while explaining her betting plans “The odds seemed in my favor. You, lonely, faithful, in a cold large bed on the Dreaming, wet dreaming about those long pale fingers sliding under your silk nightgown, caressing your tights, pushing your undergarments out of the way, that deep soft voice saying how he missed your cu-”

“ Honesty!” Love interrupted before she would describe the most coarse of actions. Looking to the nearest weapon of choice, a napkin, and angrily throwing at her sister. Eoster would never admit to her sister, but that description was vivid in Love’s imagination while alone, in baths, after Elijah finally left her to soak under the water. Very similar thoughts would creep in her mind. Morpheus surprising her at night with an intense drive of passion that he couldn’t contain and only Love could take care of, how desperately he needed her, how she was made for him.

She knew it was cliché, hell, she invented those clichés, but was it wrong to want to live them, to deeply desire them? They are not supposed to happen to mortals, but to inspire them to get a love as close as possible to those. But Love? She was supposed to have a cliché romance and the most passionate of all marriages. She was supposed to inspire mortals and entities with her marriage. That was the reason she waited to get married, to find that exact someone who would write new clichés with her or inspire her!

Love shook her head, trying to physically get away from those thoughts. Her sister was largely laughing, almost threatening to fall off the chair, even after a napkin attack “ I’m teasing, I am teasing! I guess we can’t ever count on our Lord of Dreams to do anything right. Not even his most sacred duty.” Marital Duty. Love smiled before taking a sip of her tea, not realizing her sister stopped laughing and was looking over her with a very analytical attitude “ Unless-“

Love tilted her head “Yes?”

Her sister snapped her fingers and slammed her hand against the table, making the entire tea set threatening to fall. Love would’ve killed her if any piece broke, since it was a gift from Lady Death. One of the few Endless siblings she actually liked. It was supposed to be at the Dreaming, but Dream never cared about those gifts, so Love kept them in the Garden, where she could actually use them. After all, why have a tea set in a place where there was no one to have tea with?

“Oh, Love, you cold heart bitch! You didn’t let him fuck you senseless back to happiness!” Love eyes widened at her sister, a thought went across her mind if it would be appropriate to stuff one of those sweet cakes into Honesty mouth until she choked with her words. Probably way more appropriate than continuing with this conversation.

“ My stars, you are spending too much time in Aesir!” The nordic pantheon was known to be nothing but an unmannerly pit. “As Lady of the Four Loves it’s my obligation to tell you that the Lord of Dreams could not do anything to bring me happiness.” Love stated but as the words left her mouth she was not sure that was entirely true.

She fixed her posture and put an annoying curl behind her ear, shifting in her seat. The Love Queen told herself the reason she was bothered was because this wasn’t an appropriate talk to tea time, and any of her cupids could hear and gossip around.

But the truth was more selfish than she wanted to admit. Desire always joked that she looked uptight, tense, frigid. Love never took the offense to heart, it was annoying but she always took that as a way the sibling had to embarrass Dream and his abilities as a husband, especially since Desire considered Love an easy little thing to please. And that wasn’t a guess from the Queen, Desire told her more than one time to her face.

Now she wondered if someone could actually tell just by looking at her that she was never fulfilled or satisfied with any of her private encounters with Dream. Like she had a tag in her forehead with a written trope of ‘unhappy stepford smiler’. Love carefully made herself to always look bright and full of energy and happiness in every single social she had to attend, so entities would not even think about her being miserable. Of course, they knew about the cheating, but not about the unhappiness. Or did they know? And pretend not to out of pity?

Honesty shrugged it off. “Of course he can’t. No husband can, really. Do you think Wodan makes me happy? No, but my stars, he makes me feel good while trying.” The brunette Queen furrowed her brows, her sister smirked knowingly. Eoster didn’t believe Wodan didn’t make Honesty happy. Between threats of death, poison and tries of sacrifice, what her older sister called ‘love games’, Love knew if her sister wasn’t happy she wouldn’t put up with Wodan.

Of course, what he does to keep her happy was not a mystery to anyone, their love making were famous and spoke to it in its frequency, volume and duration. There was a reason they were no longer invited by anyone in their right mind to spend the night in another’s realm for a longer festivity.

And Love could be Lady of Eros, supportive of passionate nights and devoted spouses, but thinking of her sister and spouse made her nauseous. She didn’t spare an unladylike groan throwing her back against her chair “Spare me the details of your marriage, I can feel the tea in the back of my throat.”

Eoster never liked Wodan from the first time they were introduced, she knew exactly what he was: a rake, a brute, a classic god of war, thirsty for bloodshed, unfaithful, who saw naive maids as conquests, luring them with false promises of love until he had them exactly where he needed them, and then, discarted them, and moved to another.

A terrible match to Honesty, who Love always saw as witty, independant, enlightened, smarter than her sisters. She always thought Honesty was too smart to fall for the cheap rough charm of Wodan and would prefer someone that was an intellectually worthy adversary.

Besides, Wodan previously tried to court Love. “Court” would not be the proper word, since in the first five sentences they exchange, the norse god began a very pleasant discord on how some other gods (and he highly suggested other Love’s suitors) considered a lady’s place to be at the childbed, but he truly believedthat a lady’s place was in a man’s face, and he continued his lovely discourse describing how mortals were calling the act of cunnilingus the ‘devil’s lunch’ and how it may be but ‘yet is a fabulous meal any time of the day’, giving Love, who was vigorously blushing and praying for a way out, very suggestive looks. He only gave up when Eoster threatened to destroy all the harvest from mortals who worshiped him, if he ever spoke to her again.

An uncouth rake that Lady Honesty happened to fall in love for.

Love constantly questioned her sister's good senses and sanity, and Honesty dismissed Love, using her older sister tone: ⅔ condescending ⅓ full of mockery by saying ‘You are the one that likes them all broody, intellectual and sensible’ or ‘ I didn’t marry to have deep philosophical discussions’.

Love would defend herself by saying it wasn’t a preference for 'broody, intellectual and sensible'. She only wished for someone she could have a conversation with beyond the bedroom. And Honesty argued that that is what sisters are for.

And when arguments got heated, Honesty would throw in Love’s face that her husband might be all what Love disaproves of, but at least he married her out of his own desire and heart, she was invited into his life and he treated her like his queen. Unlike Dream, that on paper seemed all that Eoster wanted it, but was forced to welcome an univinted wife into his life and treated her like an unpleasant clingy mistress he got tired of. ‘If you wanted an Endless so desperately, you should have invested in Desire or the Prodigal one. You could’ve convinced him not to leave’. Even that, Honesty made it seem like Love’s fault. When fights like this would occur, they would spent decades without talking to each other.

The dark haired lady shifted in her seat, acquiring an older sister posture ready to lecture her reluctant younger sister. “Well you should listen. As your older sister with a senior marriage, it is my duty to teach you the ways of husbands.” Love rolled her eyes at ‘the ways of husbands’ as they held mysteries beyond the surface to be analyzed and discussed. Love could feel the torture that was yet to come “Oh, please!”. They had very different marriages, with very different husbands, whatever advice Honesty had, it wouldn’t work on Morpheus.

Wodan was a god of war; he yearns for a conquest, for the thrill of it, Honesty only needed to play hard to get for a moment before he is challenged, moving worlds to have her back.

Morpheus was lord of dreams, nightmares and stories. He didn’t yearn for any conquest. If she played hard to get, he would just move to someone more interesting. That was why even in discomfort Love never denied him in the bedroom, because at least she would have him there, not with someone else. He could think about others while inside her, but, at least for a few moments, he was with her. He was hers.

At least, before. Now, she could not understand what her husband was planning, let alone, wanting.

Honesty pretended to not listen to her sister's complaint “A repentant husband like yours will try anything to make his wife happy.” Love stubbornly refused to give in to Honesty. Even if Morpheus did go the extra mile to try to have Love live in the Dreaming again. “And you, my darling, should take advantage of that.” Love was about to ask Honesty if these so-called “advantages” included losing two realms to Morningstar.

Her lecture was interrupted by Matthew, the raven, flying over, dropping a letter with Dream’s seal, landing on top of Love’s porcelain’s plate.

Excitement, happiness, eagerness, all those feelings that were conditioned by the arrival of a letter, rose in Love’s chest at the same speed they were crushed, leaving her speechless. Color dropped from her face, and she looked at the envelope as if it was a ghost from the past, making no mention of opening it.

She knew it was ridiculous, to want to escape a paper. But she couldn’t stop wanting to disappear, run as far away as she could from that single stupid piece of paper.

Love received thousands of these same letters but written by Desire. Maybe the raven cackled something about the letter being from the Dream King, since the queen was behaving strangely towards it. Matthew could swear she threatened to jump away from her seat, when she saw the letter, like he was dropping a literal bomb on her lap.

She couldn’t answer him. She couldn’t take her eyes off the letter. A single letter made her feel small, a young Queen again, pushing her lips in a smile every time a dove was seen in the horizon. Love remembered running desperately down the stairs, wanting to beat down every cupid that wanted to deliver her a letter that would made a marvelous day in the Garden thanks to the Queen’s humour. Sometimes running so carresslesly, that she would rip her flowy dresses on pointy corners. Love didn’t care. She wanted to be the first and only one to read his words.

Looking at the seal, she couldn’t believe how she was deceived. Of course her husband’s seal would be deep purple, almost black. It suited him. Very different of the scarlet one Desire used. She should have known. How didn’t she notice it before? Was she that naive? Did she close her eyes for the truth? The clues must be all obvious as this one. Did she suspect through all their court but wanted to go on with it anyway? Was it loneliness? Was it desperation of not finding someone like she dreamed of, so she clenched her fists into fantasy, hoping for it to become true?

Did she conspire with Desire and told herself she was an innocent maiden in all of this?

Love’s head hurt.

Honesty dismissed the bird. Since Love seemed to be too stunted to move, and her sister was not the most patient woman, she took matters into her own hands, hovering over the table and grabbing the letter trying to break the seal with a desert knife.

That was enough to make Love wake, and jump over the table, dropping a few cinnamon cakes on the floor, and sugar syrup on her dress, trying to get the letter off her sister's hands. Whatever was in the letter, if her sister read, all of her siblings and their spouses would know, and in a snap of fingers, the whole universe would soon know too.

“Give this back!” Love screamed while attempting to get the letter from Honesty hands, that jumped away from her sit, trying to push Love away with one hand and open the letter and read the cursive with another. “Your husband's cursive is awful, I can’t read this! Damn, Love! Stop! Stop smothering me! You’ve gone fat! Out! Out! Let me read it!” The dark headed woman struggled, was grabbed by the arm by her sister to keep Honesty unable to escape. Love was now with her knees smashing down a tower of strawberry cupcakes, throwing her left arm and torso over Honesty trying to reach the letter on the free hands of her sister.

And for goodness sake Love hated those long arms of Honesty!

“It is not yours! Give it back! It must be something serious”. Honesty in a poor attempt to get free from Love, use the letter as a weapon, hitting Love with it. Probably thinking that a paper cut would made her take a few steps back. She clearly did not saw the stupidity in doind this “Than. It. Is. Better. That. I. Read. It.” Honesty said every other punctuated with a paper hit “You are too sensib- Damn it!”

With a now-or-never decision love took an impulse and throw herself in her sister’s hand, successfully grabbing the letter, as her sister took a step back to get away from her, due tot the now free hand, Love had no one to hold her free fall, and she hugged the air, falling with her face to the grass. She quickly ignored the pain and scanned the letters.

His cursive was really terrible. Different from the rounded vows, heavy pressure that Desire used. His writing was fast, pointed consonants, narrow “L” loops, slanting to the left. Even the writing was obviously different.

It was a short letter, direct but she couldn’t make sense of what he wrote. Actually, she could. But those words in a sentence coming from an invitation from her husband made no sense.

Honesty thinking it was taking an eternity for her to read the message, couldn’t contain a needy and demanding “Well?”

She was almost asking again or going to her sister to a second round in trying to get the paper from her. Love was paralyzed, before dropping the paper on the floor, looking at her sister and saying “ He wants us to go for a parade. In the Dreaming.”

Honesty frowned. Love was delirious that was it. “Parade? For what? Does he think it is great doing escape from a mortal after a millennia in imprisonment?” It was a century. Love didn’t know why she felt the impulse to correct her. It didn’t make a difference. Well it did. A few thousand years of difference. But she shouldn’t care. She didn’t care.

“And I heard if it wasn’t from a small mistake, he would still be there. Great achievement.” Her sister was sarcastic but right. His return was not from great victory, it was an escape. It didn’t make sense celebrating. But Dream didn’t want to celebrate his return.

“No. He says that he wishes us to parade through Dreaming, since we didn’t have a parade for the marriage.” A parade meant Love would be shown off to the dreamfolk, an introduction to their queen, so the people would get to know who the Dream King was marrying. It would have made sense, a few centuries ago.

“But you are not newly wed.” Honesty pointed out the obvious. “ I know”. Love could only answer. What did he want? To make her feel guilty of not helping the dreamfolk through all the years of his imprisonment. Well if he did, she would make sure to tell them that he was the one who forbade her to come.

“And you know the Dreaming, obviously” Honesty said, trying to make sense of the letter. Maybe he created new territory and wanted to show Love. The Dreaming was always changing, didn’t someone tell her that? It wasn’t stable like some realms due to the nature of dreams and nightmares. “Of course.” Love hesitated answering a bit too long. Enough to make Honesty suspicious.

“You don’t, do you?” Honesty knew the expression of a liar when she saw one.

“ I know the palace.” Love annoyingly answered. It was a blessing and a curse having a sister that was honesty herself, able to tell a small, minuscule half-lie from the truth. And Love couldn’t understand why Honesty was pushing her lips in a smug victorious smile “ And he wants you two to go on a romantic parade through his realm. Sounds like-“

Love raised herself from the floor, feeling a sting on the left leg, the one that hited the ground first, she ignored the pain, not realizing she was raising her voice to convince her sister that this wasn’t a romantic tale of some sorts “I don’t want a parade!”

The queen’s eye widen with realization, the permission to Elijah leave earlier, hitting her strong like a quick in the stomach. Suddenly the meeting made sense. A piece of a puzzle finally found! “Do you think that is why he asked to see Elijah?”

Her sister frowned, unable to understand that connection. Was Dream conspiring with a cupid and for what? Take over the Garden? Isn’t it already his? By marriage? Did he went insane after imprisonment? ‘Does he know how natural gossipers Cupids are?” Honesty just hoped she eventually would hear what this audience was about “Did he have an audience with Elijah, your Cupid? Why? Were you unavailable?”

Love grabbed a napkin from the floor, walking back to the gazebo, whipping out the sugar syrup from her champagne dress “No, I was here.” She answered while passing by Honesty, “ Of course it’s the parade. Since when does Dream know how to plan anything?” Besides, of course, their doom. Love spoke to herself making sense on that meeting, and the invitation. She just didn’t know why Elijah didn’t tell her.

Honesty bited her tongue not to tell Love that he obviously wanted to surprise her, feeling that her sister might kill her if she speculated anything good of Dream’s intention. Love might be Love but she felt her dear younger sister could stab a man (preferably her husband) if anyone suggested that he could do anything slightly amorous. Better to stay in safe territory. “And when is it?”

Love sighed. “ Tomorrow”. Don’t they get better and more important things to do than parading? Besides that amount of time together, after everything. It would be a disaster for both of them.

“ My stars! And do you have a dress?” Honesty took her hand to her chest, as having a dress was the most urgent life-depending matter at the moment.

She also thought that her brother in law 's desperation for her sister's good favors was quite smothering. If Wodan prepared a parade in such a short notice he would be parading alone, a woman needs time to decide her wardrobe.

Love rolled her eyes, not knowing how a dress was more important than the fact the Dream wants to parade around the Dreaming! “Is that what you are worried about?” Since when her sister was this frivolous? Or since when is Love not that frivolous?

“Well, forgive me for wanting the dreamfolk to see you in your best.” Honesty looked down on her sister wearing a loose fit champagne dress in a thick fabric that looked more like cotton, pushing her lips down, in the opposite of a smile. Love looked like a maid from southern France, not a Queen “Not whatever peasant phase you are going through now. You need to look like a Queen. I never would thought thatit would come from me of all people to tell you that”

Love’s eyes sparkled with a glimpse that worried Honesty because it meant she had an idea. And by her state, that wasn’t a good one. “I do have a dress. I do” Love smiled childish before running through the lavender garden, straight to the palace. Her sister followed her trying to keep her pace, but her small heeled shoes did not allowed to go a lot faster. Both passed through some of the palace staff who wriggled out of the way to not be knocked out, or surprise to see the Queen running around like a child, something she didnt do for centuries.

As soon as Honesty got to the door at Love’s bedroom, she saw her sister taking the dust off one of the most atrocious crimes any seamstress has ever sew. “Oh no you don’t.” Honesty took large steps grabbing the outfit from Love, holding it in front of her sister, so she could proper see what she was choosing. “Have you gone mad? You are not going to wear this awful looking thing that Aunt Temperance gave you. No, I forbid you.” Eoster quickly took back the piece before her sister would throw it on the flames. Rationally speaking “It is very traditional and a wedding gift. It is more than appropriate. And I think it is rather… Happy. Isn’t that what he is planning on making me? Happy? According to your great knowledge of husbands?”

She look confident and pleased with her witty response. Love had one of the most extensive wardrobes. She was the one that always impressed with her choice of dresses. Always on theme, always dazzling. From all her sister's gowns that never saw the light, why use this one?

Honesty scoff trying to appeal to REAL reason “It is medieval and makes you look like a fairy godmother missing only the wand with a star on the point. And that hennin. Please don’t tell me you are wearing that hennin.” She shouldn’t have said it because Love threw the dress in her pink bed and disappeared into her hat closet, appearing back wearing the pointy silk garment with a long veil falling in her back. “A fairy. Good. Might remember him of Titania and bring back some memories.” .

Honesty eyes open wide to the mention of one of her husband's former mistresses. Honesty didn’t know she knew about others. Love always seemed to be most resentful of the muse. Honesty couldn’t blame her. Calliope was the one that bore her husband’s cub, and Love never got pregnant. It caused quite a talk at the time.

Whispers and jests began to rise questioning if Lady Love was as warm as lovely, or if she was as frigid as beautiful.

Honesty would not waste her time arguing with those who were making awful hypotheses about her sister, but she sure did put Wodan to shut them up. And the dark haired lady was pretty convinced that their Aunts helped in shutting the rumors down. All the help was needed since her husband either was completely oblivious to gossip or he did not care what it was being said about his Queen.

Dream could impregnate Love anything he wanted to, have a proper heir, something his wife could love and that would love her back. It would even make it easier for him, if the problem was her being too clingy and noisy (not that Honesty believed it was the case). Hell, husbands did that all the time to get rid of their wives without breaking the marriage. But he chose to impregnate the other woman.

A boy that would later die for love.

A cruel fate but a well-deserved punishment for Morpheus. Not only Love’s sisters would agree on this, but most of the lovefolk.

“Titania would not be caught dead in that pink mess' ' Honesty snapped out of her thoughts turning to her sister that ignored the comment and sat down at the bed stretching the fabric of the dress. “Well if he is so willing like you said, he won’t mind. He will appreciate my company.” Honesty rolled her eyes, sitting at the bed. “And will you be a company to be appreciated?” Honesty was too smart for Love’s tactic of vague words. She knew her sister would not make the slughtest effort to be a good company.

“I will abide to my duty.” She shrrugled her shoulders, looking down at the dress corset a mix of dusk colors, majority pink but tones lilac and blue sprinkled across it.

Honesty throw her back against the soft mattress giving up any tries to convince her of other clothes and other attitudes. Speaking freely, giving her opining even if it risk to be choked down with the atrocious dress petticoat “My stars, Love. He is trying. Don’t try to make your marriage more difficult than it is.”

Love dropped her childish face, looking her sister dead in the eye, she sounded hurt. She was feeling stab by her own sister. Honesty seemed to be taking Dream’s side on this. Like she forgot everything he did. “I tried, do you not remember? Years of trying. And now you expect me to drop at his feat because he suddenly remembered his wife is not part of decoration but actually his queen, and he might start treating her like one?”

It gutted Honesty to tell her that. It hate her to not be able to give her words of comfort, to take her away and find her another husband, since her sister avidly deny any lover. She wished Love didn’t fall into a trap setted by that awful Desire. Honesty wished a lot of things to her younger sister that she could not do it. Love was stuck in a True Marriage. The only way to be free from it was a walk in Lady Death’s realm, which Love had no interest in doing.

She knew Love was feeling corned into a place she did not like it. It was not about sides. It was about reality. Their roles, their duties, their differences. “Love, you know it is different for them. And you suffered so much through your marriage why tire yourself more? Could you not just enjoy his tries? You do not need to forgive him, just let him adore you.”

The brunette eyes were wet with tears she refused to let them drip through her cheeks, but she looked to Honesty with disbelief like she could not believe how her sister, her closest sister, did not understand her feelings, or the situation.

“He hurt me, Honesty.” She clearly said. “More than you would like to imagine.” Honesty might be older, but Love often thought that she was oblivious to miserable marriage real struggles since hers seemed like a game with no losers.

This time Honesty raised her upper body angrily answering her sister that patronized her. As she was a naive nymph oblivious to the problems of the universe. “What? Cheating? Dragging other goddesses, stars and nymphs to your bed? While you pretend not to hear their screams while taking polite tea with your ladies-in-waiting in the other room? Taking you when he couldn’t find anything better to warm his cock? Pain in your lower stomach that you get drunk to forget? Crying yourself quietly to sleep because he doesn't like the sound of your whimps and you know that he will leave your bed if he hears your cry and you prefer his cruel company than a cold bed, because at least you can pretend that if you shared a bed, you are happily married? Please sister, don’t patronize me.”

Love thought in reply that Dream never complained about her crying because they didn’t share a bed, as a statement that her situation was even worse, But was it any winners in this scenario? Was it really worse?

She didn’t reply, winking a few times, taken aback by what her sister was describing. “I didn’t know Woda-“ If he did do such things, Love was right in hating him from the start, which did not bring any rush of pride that she thought she would get from being right. After all it meant her sister was in pain, and not only that, she was a better stepford smiler than her.

Honesty dismissed this with a gesture “Wodan wouldn’t dare. He is a good husband.”

Love rolled her eyes when she saw Honesty smile. “He is an uncouth rake. Weren’t you trying to curse him last time we spoke?”

Honesty shrugged it off. Cursing husbands was a passtime to her sisters. “Probably. He is a good husband, not a perfect one. Besides the point is: You are not the only miserable wife in the cosmos, and I am very good listener.”

Love threw herself in the mattress along her sister “You are a very good gossiper”

“Potato, Potatoh” Both of them smiled at each other, and Honesty lied back turning to her sister, looking compassionately at her face, raising her hands to let her thumb caress her sister cheek. Love delve in her touch. Beautiful green eyes and thick lashes, a smile curved in full pink lips. Her sister was beautiful, she was the most beautiful of the siblings, although Honesty would never admit that to her.

It pinched Honesty’s heart that she could also see the eyebags underneath her eyes, the purple from terrible slept nights, and the lack of glow she had when they were maidens. She wished she could offer some way, some path of a crazy adventure to restore some secret gem or magic dust, a visit to a sea witch, an offering to the Fates, anything that a brave warrior or a pure heart heroine could pursue in order to gain her happiness or at least freedom.

But the truth was they weren’t any of these things, and these weren’t choices available to them. They had duties, obligations to realms, to subjects and mortals. They were bound to them. They could turn their unberable suffering into bearable, misery into contempt. Honesty couldn’t give her sister a magic sand to make her pain disappear, but she could advise her in not hurting herself more.

“ Dove, don’t go on a crusade to punish him and hurt even more of yourself. An Endless like your husband does not have a heart to be wounded.” If he did have a heart at all, which most of the times Honesty doubted. Love sighted sarcastically, rolling her eyes at her sister, repeating her words empathically “An Endless like my husband wasn’t supposed to be locked away for a century by a mortal who barely understood what he was doing.” Which wasn’t a lie, after all wasn’t he trying to trap Lady Death?

Honesty couldn’t help to laugh with her sister “Touché.” She took a minute, both starring at each other eyes in a silent understanding of caring. Love and Honesty could have entire conversations just by deeply looking at each other.

As a spell broke, Honesty took a deep breath before taking an impulse out of the bed, returning to her usual bored and sophisticated tone of voice “I must go now Love Dove, thanks to your hate for orgasmic bliss, Pride waits with who knows what plans for poor me.”

Love frowned confused, raising herself from bed “ I thought she invited you for cricket.”

Honesty fixed her hair with a dramatic wave.

“The torture already began. If I don’t make it, remember me, dear Love”

——————

The parade was everything Eoster loved. She did not expected so many dreams and nightmares that wanted to see her, and give her flowers. They knew that Eoster was goddess of spring, and flowers apparently were the only suitable gift they thought of. She was not expecting to be received with such a warm embrace from them. Even the most awful nightmares seemed to be in their best behavior just to have a chance to exchange a few polite words with Eoster. Morpheus was clearly tense when Love was exchanging pleasantries with the nightmares, after all he was their creator he knew what they were capable of. He had no idea if Love had any knowledge superficial or deep about what they would inflict in a mortal's head, how they would even turn anything they hold dear into an awful horror during their sleep. But she acted with such kindness and gentleness that Dream questioned if she knew, she wasn’t parading only for dreams.

“Those were nightmares.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone, while she was delivering her bouquets to Elijah. The cupid and Lucienne were a few steps behind them, giving them some privacy. She looked at him as if he was oblivious to reality “I know, husband. Even nightmares deserve kindness. “ She said between smiles and cheerful ‘thank yous’ “Do you have any objection to kindness to nightmares? Maybe I should send them straight to the darkness, like my lord husband. ” Love ironically spat with a smile plastered on her face before turning her back to him, the veil of the henning slapping his face, as she continued her walk.

The parade was not what the Dream King imagined. He did not count that so many of the dreamfolk would appear, and that they were eager to see Love up close and talk to her. She seemed in her most natural environment. He was dressed in his usual black attire, and Love was dressed as a fluffy sunrise. A gown with voluminous skirts mainly pink but the fabric reflected lilac and blue depending on the angle, puffy sleeves, a tight corset that made her breasts more apparent than she wished, and her high hennin with a long veil, that she was using as a weapon to slap Dream any opportunity she had.

She looked like a child’s idea of a tooth fairy.

Their day started with a light fight, of course, since Dream had planned to go in an open carriage through the Dreaming, but Love insisted on going by foot. It ended when he argued in favor of her feet and she replied that he was never concerned about her well-being and he did not need to start now. The carriage would give them more privacy, which was what the king intended, just like Elijah suggested. But the queen, suspecting of what her sister said, was avoiding any situation where they would have the slightest of privacy. She even avoided holding his arm while parading. Only doing it when it was extremely necessary or it would look like she was publicly avoiding him. She did not need the dreamfolk to start enquiring about her marriage.

A part of Love was constantly thinking of her own words. ‘He hurt me’ countless times of being cold, stoic, uncaring, making her feel guilty, undeserving of love, having his way with her because it was easy, not caring if it was unpleasant to his wife or not, and she drank to forget it and drank to let it happen. ‘He cheated on me’, dragging every lady that showed the slightest interest in him to their bed, to their realm. ‘He humiliated me’ Having a muse pregnant, never wanting to share a life together, making her cry in empty hallways wrapped in sheets, condemned to live in eternal misery.

Strong arguments and memories, undeniable truths that kept them separated and her heart close.

Another part of her, one that kept opening a small creek in her heart and was fed by the way he kept starring at her during the parade, anytime he thought she wasn’t looking, how his face brightened when he saw her in the ‘atrocious pink dress’, the warmth of his hands when he guide her down the stairs before the parade. She could have denied it and walked by herself, but being alone with him, no Elijah, no Lucienne, it clouded her mind, and before she knew it, she was thinking how soft and warm his hand felt against her and awakened recent memories of his hands holding her face. How she suddenly wished he would do it again, have him close, inches away, feeling the familiar warmth of his breath and his touch. How she hated to feel cold when dropping his hand, to walk in front of him, to give away fantasies. The sweet words of his promises. The yearning. A new beginning. A start over. Hope.

“We will see three more dreams.” Love winked, lost in her thoughts realizing that the dreams and nightmares were scarce now. And Elijah and Lucienne seemed to be discussing an important matter that had both of them checking their notes in their respective notebooks and pointing to the horizon. Dream offered his arm to her and Love crossed her fingers resting them against her corset “ I thought all dreams and nightmares were invited to our parade. I do not believe any of them would risk your wrath of not coming to it.” She might fantasize about a husband she could love but it would not mean she would would be easily swayed by her real one “ Besides I am exhausted”

“ I did offer you a carriage, might you remember” Morpheus didn’t see when the answer slipped from his lips. Arguing with her came so easily. Love was not drunk, she was difficult and stubborn when drunk but he could tell the difference even after centuries apart, this was his sober wife that although didn’t disobey or cause any scene during the parade had been exhaustively petty, offering disguised insults through passive aggressiveness comments.

Love widened her gaze to Morpheus, groaning loudly, reaching for her skirts, turning her back and walking away. She would depart to the Garden immediately. And when he opened his mouth to appeal to reason, Love turned back fluster in angry “ Might I remind you, lord husband, that you wanted a marriage parade that I immediately agree, doing once again your bidding, performing my decorative role as your wife, and now I wish to return to my Garden.”

“Love, please” Morpheus walked a few steps close to her, not enough that she would feel threatened but enough that she could hear him. Love didn’t know what shocked her more, the fact that her name was dropping from the lips of her husband for the first time, without any title before it, or the fact that he was pleading. And Morpheus remembers quite well the words of the Cupid ‘don’t summon, invite her’. He cleared his throat and assumed the posture of a gentleman, one hand in his back and the other extended to her “Will you be kind enough to accompany me? Those dreams aided during my return. Besides, I would be delighted with the pleasure of your company. “ She took a second looking from his eyes to his hands before accepting it. “Any subject that aided my lord husband in his return, deserves my deepest gratitude.” Love stoically replied, a hint of tiredness in her voice. Morpheus looked at her trying to read any emotion, but Love did not look back.

Lucienne and Elijah were nowhere to be seen. And Love tried not to think about them being alone, she specially tried to avoid the thoughts that kept creeping in her mind about their last encounter in her quarters. How close they were, she could have kissed him. Despite the hate and the hurt. She could blame them for fear of losing their realms. Take his coat and shirt off, feel his arms, slide the point of her fingers all along his defined marbled torso, hear he groan in pleasure, feel him under his pants, his desire for her, the warmth of his breath in her neck, his mouth against every inch of her body, his tongue across her painfully hard nipples, while his hand took the other giving both his indivisible attention. Love would loudly moan in pleasure, keeping her fingers in his hair and eyes locked with him putting her hand on top of his, showing how she liked to be touch, desperate to teach and feel him everywhere, but he would want to savor every piece of her body, trailing kisses from her chest to her belly, skipping where she most needed him only to open her tights wide, Dream would flustered, his eyes darkening in lust, contrasting the delicate moving of his fingers finally reaching where Love most ache for him. She would let him beg for forgiveness every night between her legs.

“Your nails.”

Dream made her mind snap away from her deviation. She was starting to feel warm for nothing. She immediately relaxed her nails, realizing she was digging into his arm. “Forgive me. My feet are starting to tire me.” She lied, Dream noticed the red in her cheeks, but couldn’t possibly think why pain in her feet were a reason to be embarrassed. Maybe because she didn’t want to give in that he was right in using a carriage.

The raven haired king kept quiet during their walk, mostly because it was a difficult walk. Love nails started to dig into his arm a long time ago, he didn’t think she was having any difficulties in walking, but they were digging deep. He promised to himself that the path to her heart if there was any was through courting her properly, the very traditional way of courting, being invited to picnics, dinners, tea, dances in ballrooms, letters, slowly trying to gain her favors. But he could not help to wonder those same nails digging into his back or in both of his arms, having Love under him, feeling a hot wave of white pleasure across her whole body, digging her nails to keep him unbelievably closed, like being inside her wasn’t enough. His pants were starting to feel tight, and he tried his best to focus on the way. Cain and Abel, and Goldie. It didn’t help that the side of her breasts kept constantly nudging against his arm and through the side of his eyes he had the perfect view of her low neckline, which was more evident thanks to the tight corset he wanted to free her from.

He knew he had long lost his right in imagining her like this, to crave her like air, but he did both.

The couple walked in complete silence, before reaching two decaying Victorian style houses. The ground was covered in dry leaves, and the air smelled like autumn, which for Love didn’t make sense. She was about to question if she was able to be grateful to the houses. When two short men appeared. One looked quite cheerful, as the other had a cranky face. They were similar but at the same time, very different. No one needed to tell her they were brothers.

“Cain, Abel, this is Queen Eoster, Lady of the Four Loves, Princess of Springs, and Ruler of the Garden of Lovers and The Dreaming. She is my wife and your queen.” Love could not remember if she was ever introduced by Dream. Everyone already knew who they were, and she did not know how to feel hearing him actually telling others that she was his.

The brunette queen opened a polite smile, “Blessing from the Garden, Cain and Abel. I offer you my deepest gratitude for helping my husband, in such dire times.” She could see they were lost, looking at each other for a moment, before desperately looking over to Dream, who probably indicated something that they should do a courtesy. And they did, a clumsy one. Eoster could tell the cheerful one was a bit startled, while the cranky one seemed to be looking from Love to Dream, unsure. She realized they looked like a very atypical couple.

Love opened her mouth to break the awkward silence between them, when the cheerful one interrupted her. “My lady, do you like gargoyles?” At the same time, the cranky one punched his brother in the arm. “Do not interrupt her, Abel! The lady was about to speak!” Love flinched at the sudden violence, trying to avoid any conflict. Dream seemed unfazed by the interaction. Was this normal? “No, please. I can not say that I do, Abel. We do not have gargoyles in the Garden.” The eyes of the man seemed to sparkle with that realization. “Than you must meet Goldie. Lord Dream gave her to us. She will always be Irving to me, but please do not tell Cain.” He grabbed her hand, passing through the fallen leaves, Love’s hennin got stuck in a tree, and she turned back to grab, she immediately felt a breath in her back. She quickly turned to see a golden gargoyle.

Gargoyles were supposed to be terrifying, at least according to stories, however this was anything but. “Oh- Hello, hi” Love stumbled into a tree branch, almost falling back, but she supported the queen with her head, stabilizing her before Abel made the introductions mistaken a few of her titles as ‘Lady of the Four Springs’ and ‘Queen of the Springs’ but, the main title he got right, which was Lord Morpheus’ Queen. Goldie did the better bow between the trio. “Goldie likes you… ou-my lady” Cain stepped into Abel’s feet after he took a time not addressing Love by the proper title. Love did not care exactly. Especially because she was starting to grow fond of Abel. Love kept petting the Gargoyle and decided to ask some curiosities of her “ Do you both prefer a more autumnal scenario?”

Cain and Abel look at each other, unknowingly how to give the right answer, so Love explains, circling her finger indicating the environment “The dry leaves, dry trees, everything in orange-brown tones. Autumn.” They still kept quiet. It was not that Love did not liked autumn, she found it quite tolerable, going to the mortal’s world during this season always was pleasant, but it was also quite depressing.

“Your houses have a lovely front, and the soil is good. I can make it spring for you. Don’t you wish for blooming flowers, a light warm sun, trees full of green leaves, soft grass, maybe some carrots for Goldie?” Abel eyes were sparkling, he looked to Cain in excitement, but Cain seemed unsure. Not a fan of changes, Love could sense. “It would be my way of expressing gratitude.” She made a small bow, and that she knew would convince Cain. He was proud, but he would not say no to Love, especially with Dream right there.

Dream! “Of course, if my lord allows it, to shape his Dreaming.” She turned to him, completely forgetting that he was there! Biting down her lower lip almost as asking for forgiveness before the fight. She only wished he saved the lecture when they returned, not here. “You are Queen of the Dreaming, if it is your wish then I have nothing to allow.” He said in the most peaceful manner. Love frowned, taking a second to digest it, trying to sense any hostility, sarcastic, passive-aggressiveness, but he seemed to genuinely mean it. She was Queen of the Dreaming. Love couldn’t believe it.

The brothers sensed how unsure Love was. Constantly looking over to the Dream King as if he would change his mind at any second. Abel was about to tell her that it was no trouble at all. Dry leaves and dead trees were fine. She would not want her to get into trouble, especially after being kind to him.

But as he was about to speak, a cold air came across them, Lady Love had her feet on the ground, her eyes closed, as the next breeze came it smelled like freshly cut grass, and spikes of green herbs started to grow as the tree foliage, damaged tree trunks healed, the vines that climbed against the outside wall of the houses, went from brown to a deep green, as the smell of jasmyne, roses, lilies and lavenders started to rose, the field blossomed. Dream kept watching his wife awakening spring, her hair got fuller, and her skin slightly glowed as she was bathing in sun, she looked more alive than he ever saw her, while the nature besides him blossomed, he could only look at her.

The smell of rain came next. “Forgive me if it is not up to your liking, it’s been ages since I last performed a small spring, especially in front of an audience. We better get inside.” Love put her shoes back, before going to Morpheus’s side, her eyes were a vivid deep green that he never quite seen before. “ It is coming quite a storm to completely awake your spring my dreams, I believe I got too excited. We better go inside, unless you want to soak under the rain.” She expected any of them to lead the way, but Cain and Abel were still fascinated by the awakening happening all around them, Abel was especially charmed by the trail of tiny flowers, growning where Lady Love walked. And Dream kept cursing himself for his lack of control, thinking about his wife soaked under the rain, her dress sticky to her figure, her curls untangled, falling to her waist, the fabric semi transparent, showing her curves covered only by her underwear, that if he remembered were always flimsy lace, “Which house, shall we go?” Love innocently asked, not knowing where Dream’s thoughts were nor the argument this would cause.

Cain argued they should go to The House of Mystery, and Abel wanted them to go to The House of Secrets. Love did not know if she should intervene, for her the houses looked the same, even their names. Weren’t secrets just mysteries waiting for someone to discover them? And isn’t a mystery just an obscure secret? And most importantly wouldn’t they offer the same protection of the spring rain that was about to come? Love intervened when she thought Cain had a murderer look towards poor Abel. “We shall have tea in The House of Mystery! And of course we will have dinner at the House of Secrets. Does that please both of you? Then off we go, gentlemen, please. ” This seemed to settle the argument.

Dinner? She did not want to have dinner and tea with Cain and Abel. Actually she didn’t mind the dreams or the gargoyle, but she did mind pretending to be a happy harmonious couple more than she had planned. But how could she stop the two brothers? Love let the two walk upfront, making the preparations, like a mother that let the kids close the door before fighting with a low voice with her husband. “Would you let the two of them kill each other? Do your dreams mean nothing to you?” She spat, passing her hands through her hair.

“Abel is the First Victim and Cain the First Murderer”. He answered as this was enough to settle her down, when he saw her face continued the same, he further the explanation. “Cain is constantly killing Abel, and Abel does not remain dead. Cain always buries him, but Abel is alive again by sunrise. Cain is trying to avoid killing Abel in front of you. Out of respect”

He did not mention that he was the one telling them to avoid bloodshed, since Love was not fond of manslaughter, nor was herself used to it. Love looked at Dream with disbelief in her eyes. Did he learn nothing with Morningstar? Did he not listen to her? “And you did not thought that was crucial to share with your wife?” Dream crossed his arms in his back “Lady wife, you did not ask any habit of my other creations, I did not think this was any different.”

Love blinked looking at her unfazed husband. Tall, dark hair, pale, and not a hint of annoyance. He was not lying, she could tell. Morpheus did not lie. But he was not being sincere either. Something in Love kept nudging her that he wanted this to happen. It could be insanity, she must be going insane after those days. Better ladies would already give up. But it could be true. Maybe he wants to spend time with her, convincing her that he has changed for the better.

Well, she would give him reasons to regret it.

—------------

Tea time was tense. Abel kept shaking his tea. Cain kept giving murderer looks to his brother that flinched and shaked even more. During a conversation, Dream tried to hold Love’s hand over the table and she abruptly took it away, not breaking eye contact with the brothers that were telling a story. The brothers pretended not to notice the queen’s anxiety, every plastered smile Queen Love offered, every rehearsed compliment, and those half-a-second-blink-and-missed coldly glancing at Dream as a warning. Near the end of the tea time, Love asked a question that changed the course of her later evening “ How did the name Goldie come to you? Was it both of your choices? My sisters and I could never agree on naming clouds, imagine gargoyles!”

Five minutes later, Abel’s blood spills in Love’s face, Dream’s coat, and the table cookies, their chamomile tea acquiring a pink color after a dash of blood mixed to it.

Four hours later, there was no dinner, Cain was outside burying Abel. And Dream and Love were settled in a bedroom that Cain fixed for them to share a night at the House of Secrets. This time it wasn’t Dream who convinced Love, but Cain. He said that they need to fulfill their promise and to wait for Abel to say goodbye.

“If that was the case, then you should have learned how to control your nerves better, Cain of the House of Mysteries.” She scolded the dream. Cain was taken aback by her response. He heard Lady Love was kind, beautiful, generous and very polite, no one said anything about her scolding, how it felt like it was disappointing and betraying a mother. Cain merely nodded with his head down. He was ashamed of something he had done his whole existence. How was that possible?

Love did not caring if her husband would later scolded her for it.

To her surprise he didn’t. At the moment, he looked a bit… impressed. Like he didn’t know that Love could scold or lecture her subjects. Her cheeks turned pink when she realized he was looking at her in awe.

Now, they were stuck in one bedroom. Neither she or Morpheus had the courage to ask for separate rooms. It would be one night. At a dream’s house. What could possibly go wrong?

Love tried to tell herself, as she walked to the couple’s bed, covered in old flowery covers matching the walls, it looked like an old room in a farm cottage. She stopped between the bed and the vanity, untying her dress. Love could not sleep in her gown, it was too big and occupied too much of a space.

She stripped down the gown, and marched away from the two petticoats Elijah put her on. The corset was the last piece missing and she was struggling with the tight knots Elijah gave. It seemed silly, but it has been centuries since she was the one undressing herself, she usually had a dream maid or Elijah to help her, even Lucienne helped her once. She was getting tired of trying to push the knot since it seemed to tightens it more. Maybe she could sleep in a corset. It would crush her ribs. Nothing much.

“May I?” She wasn’t surprised with Dream behind her, she heard his footsteps. Love just didn't expect him to come help her. At first she denied, saying it was fine. He did not move, of course he didn't believe her, a single person could not untie the amount of knots in that dress. He could not understand why Love still picked those laced ribbons type of dresses, but he had a feeling that if he mentioned anything, Love would kill him in bed. “Fine.” She gave up.

Love didn’t want Dream this near to her. She could feel his breath in her neck, and it sent shivers down her spine. She held her breath and become stiff under his fingers when they slightly grazed her skin over the cotton gown. Love could see his expertly hands working through the mirror in the vanity. Even with the corset getting loose it was getting harder to breathe.

Dream pretended to be well composed, but his breath was uneven, and he was sure Love would notice. His mouth was dried and he tried to ignore it, while trying to focus on the ribbon knots, and avoid gazing at the naked skin of her shoulders, the connection point between her neck, and how it moved with every small turn. How he wanted to close the space between them, and kissed and take her scent in, discard that corset and put his hand over her waist, embrace her, let her skin melt against his, as he would slide his hands under her gown, feel her silk skin against his fingers, mark her neck as his.

He turned his eyes to the mirror, trying to get away from those thoughts, especially since he was going to share a bed with Love. He might daydream about his wife wanting to give him her tender affections, but he knew that in reality if Love even suspected he was slightly aroused, she would put her dress back and sleep on the floor. And he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable because he couldn’t control himself. Sharing a bedroom was not in his plans. Spend time with her, yes, but this was pushing the limits.

His eyes crossed with hers, as she was staring at him working on her corset through the mirror. He continuously untied her corset, but he didn’t break eye contact, neither did her. Both of them played a dangerous game, until her garment fell into the ground.

“Thank you” Love shyly said, turning herself to the bed, getting quickly under the covers, even if her nightgown covered every piece of her body besides her shoulders and her ankles. She tried to focusing herself, remembering why Dream was an expert in untying dresses. ‘ Yours he wasn't untying.’ She sat on the bed, braiding her long hair. She didn't had to, but at least it would keep her mind away from her husband stripping in front of her. “If it pleases you, I can sleep on the floor”.

Morpheus suggested standing at the side of the bed. Love looked at him in a normal black cotton shirt and boxers that matched it. Thinking it was a good idea. But also seeing the ridicule of it. They were married. He had seen her naked before, she laid with him, he spilled his seed into her. But even if it sounded ridiculous, sharing a bed in nightclothes was far more intimate then everything they shared “We are married” She shrugged off, it was the answer to their questions, she opened the covers on his side. “Maybe you should have one and I the other”. She pulled one of the covers to her side of the bed, pushing one to leave on Morpheus' side. He looked hurt believing she thought that he would do anything to her during the night. Another sin to carry. That was the type of husband she thought he was. That was the treatment he gave her.

Love on the other hand kept thinking that she just didn’t want to wake up curled into his arms.

She would never have thought that Morpheus would do anything nonconsensual to her during the night, he had plenty of opportunity to do it in the palace, and never did. Why would he start now? With dreams just outside their windows that could hear everything. It would not give him a good look.

Morpheus did not argue with her, merely agreeing.

As soon as he fixed himself, Love blew out the candle in their bedroom. Laying against her pillow. It wasn't fluffy as the pillow from the Gardens nor stained with tears or wine like the pillows from the Dreaming.

It had an unknown smell that was not helping her sleep nor the sound of Cain’s shovel. She closed her eyes trying to shut her internal voices, thinking about the pink milky lakes in the Garden, the sweet melodies her protégés would play, the sound of waves hitting the shore.

It did not work. She turned to her sides, feeling Morpheus was too close or the bed was too small. She decided to lay looking at the ceiling. How many hours did she spent turning on bed? Was it already morning? She needed to sleep.

The more she looked at the ceiling the more she realized she wasn’t going to sleep even if she was tired. “Husband, are you asleep?”

It was an odd question to ask, she realized. She did not know if Morpheus actually slept. He was the Sandman after all, but did he get the chance to experiment his own creations? Or he merely crafts his realm and its people for others enjoyment and misery? Always looking outside but never living it himself.

Both had more in common than Love realized.

He took his time to answer her, and she believed he could be sleeping. “No, my lady. I am not.” Love nodded, even if he couldn’t see. She moved, sitting on the bed resting her back against the headboard “May I ask you a question?”

Morpheus mirrored her, sitting in the bed “Yes.”

Love frowned, already regretting the question. She could have just stayed quiet. “You have to promise not to be crossed.” She didn’t mean to sound childish as she sounded.

“I will not. You may ask.” She could not see in the darkness but could feel Dream smile when answering her.

Love cleaned her throat “How was it?”

“Pardon me?” He could not have listened to her, after all she whispered like a student afraid of answering the wrong question from the professor.

“How was it to be imprisoned all those years?” She took a deep breath, reuniting all the courage to keep this conversation.

“ Why the sudden interest?” Love definitely regretted asking it. She did not know why she asked. It just popped in her head. Maybe because he kept saying his imprisonment changed him, changed how he sees her. She wanted a better understanding. Or it was her stupid heart trying to find any excuses to forgive him.

“ I can’t sleep” She lied shrugging her shoulders

“And details of my imprisonment might aid you?” Love could not contain a roll of eyes.

She stayed silent, both of them. He was crossed, he lied, although he didn’t sound like it. Morpheus sounded more amused than crossed, but Love couldn't trust what she felt he sounded like. It was dark, her senses were frail. She couldn’t trust anything. She turned herself to the opposite side, preparing to lay back and try to sleep or impatiently count the seconds so the night could be over.

“ Lonely.” He took a deep breath. “At first I kept thinking about the Dreaming, how it would be without me, neglected, unprotected, the effects on the wakening.” The Sleeping Sickness. Of course. Love remembers bits of it. She thought it was just an unrelated name to a common sickness, but it rendered dramatic love stories, couples forever apart by a forever sleep. “Then I remembered that you were here and my thoughts turned to your work, if you were getting a hold of it, dealing with dreams and nightmares, my siblings.” He didn’t say but part of him was expecting to come back to war ground, the Dreaming infested with Desire. How foolish it sounded now. “ I thought I was only thinking about duties, about the continuation of things, but as time went by, I realized that among all of it, I truly kept thinking about you. I worried about the dream folk and the realm but I kept always coming back on you. If anyone was helping you understand the Dreaming since I retrieve myself from that duty, if you were tired of bearing my load, if you were staying at the Dreaming or at the Garden, if you slept in my quarters as you were the sole ruler or continued in your bed, if anyone dared to defy your authority. When I realized, I stopped thinking about the work, and kept losing myself in these few memories of you, that were so scarce but fed my hopes of return, your soft delicate hands over mine, your floral scent. I curse myself for not remembering your smile, but clearly remembering your tears, the sound of your cries. I vowed that when I get back, I would make my daily iteration to make my Queen smile, so I could never forget. And if damnation came upon me, at least I have your radiance to remember when walking through my sister’s realm, knowing that I am not responsible for only your tears, but some of your happiness.”

Love could not keep her eyes away from Dream. His hair was a mess, he had prominent eye bags. His queen could not remember if she ever saw him more human, and under the soft moonlight coming from the thin curtains, he looked more handsome than she ever saw him. And the vulnerability! She was a fool, she knew her sisters would scold her for having a soft heart but she didn’t think properly when she suddenly kissed her husband.

Her lips crashing against his, she meant to pull away in a second, hide under the covers, and pretend nothing happened, afraid he might reject her. But contrary to her anxieties, he quickly responded to her kiss, and moved carefully against her mouth afraid she might break away. Love shyly opened her mouth as he gladly slipped his tongue inside which elicited a needy moan from his Queen that she had not realize it came from her, nor the effect it had on her husband who desperately needed to hear the sounds he could get from Eoster and felt a dire need to have her body close against him, he curled his hands into her hair, as they deepen the kiss.

Love showed no resistance to dwelling in his touch, letting the burning sensation on her body take over. Morpheus pulled her to him, letting Love straddle his lap, her gown pooled above her mid thigh, partially exposing her legs. Her hands resting flattened against his chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath her touch. She can imagine how he would look without a shirt underneath the weak light. They break their kiss for a second as her hands cradle his face, and she rested her forehead against his, even with the low light both staring at each other, their silence being only accompanied by their dorment passion, their chest heaving in synchrony.

Their moment was a brief eternity, Dream kept looking from her eyes to her parted lips, and when Love gave him a gentle kiss as consent to continue, Dream wasted no time, tracing a path of wet kisses from her mouth to her collarbone, following to her pulse point as she tilted her head giving him more access. His lips were warm from their kiss but they sent shivers across her back as he nipped the skin of her neck. Love weakly moaned, her tights tensed pressing harder against Dream.

Her hands went to his soft raven haired hair, grabbing his locks into her fingers, to which he groan in pleasure and Love felt a electric wave through her body. She wanted more. His hand was on her stomach, she could feel how cold they were as his fingertips raised the hem of the nightgown, delicately as he wanted to indulge every second of it.

She didn’t stop her sleeves to fall from her shoulder letting the sight of the top of her breast exposed, a silent invitation to be touched. Dream’s hand went up to her body, feeling every inch of skin, the warmth of his wife, he couldn’t take his hands away from her, it would be a sin, a crime to do it. To have neglected her all those years, he was the one that deserved an eternity in Hell for his foolishness.

Love was unsure if the feelings from her body were clouding her eyes, but she could swear Morpheus was smiling at her, and she was smiling at him. His hand laid over her breast, his palm a warm pressure over her nipple. Love arched her back, moving her hips, pushing her breast more into his hand “Dream…” the neediness in her voice, his name dropping from it like prayer, and if he never wanted or needed worshipers before, he would be content to only listen to her prays. ”Yes?” The rasp of his voice mixed with eagerness, wanting to hear every single need his Queen had. He started circling her breasts, pinching her hard nipple, as she moaned with each touch as he was discovering what would make Love say his name again. She took one of her hands to the other breast, feeling it burning in desire for her husband’s hand. Her palms were not the same as his, she squeezed it a bit stronger than her husband, to mimic the pressure.

The Dream King was mesmerized by his wife pleasing herself, he stopped for a moment his movements just to see her, throwing her head back, and looking deep into his eyes, full of desire, as a whimp escaped her lips “Touch me”.

Both of them shared a look, as she put her hand over his, showing how she wanted to be touched. Love never saw Morpheus take so well instructions from her. He didn’t need to be afraid she was going to break, so she pressed his hands more intensively against her, Love needed his touch as one needed air, she needed to feel his fingers dig in her skin, and as he learn, and Dream was a quick learner, she let go of his hands, holding him by his shoulder and then his back digging her nails in his skin as she pressed again her hips into him, his breath hicks, letting his head fall in her shoulder, his hair tickling her cheek as he kissed her skin, letting love marks all across her collarbone. One of his hands went to her waist to keep her close, she could feel Dream harder under her and his length grazing in her entrance, when he bucked his hips to meet her, sending a wave of pleasure that she wanted to keep chasing.

”Do you like it?” He whispered against her ear, and she stopped for a moment, Dream looked at her, flustered and painting, afraid he might have ruined it. As he opened his mouth to apologize, she kissed him, whispering back “You never asked before.” It was not a spiteful reply, like the ones before, everytime he asked her something about her well-being. It was a lovable answer, full of hope and happiness, like Dream finally asked the one thing that mattered in all those centuries. As a response to his question, she rolled her hips against his, feeling his hard on, and he immediately met her in the same motion, Dream holded her waist down to keep her exactly where she was, and both couldn’t help but moan louder than expected.

After years of their date nights being a painful annoyance only making her feel dirty, having to clean herself and drink tea for pain the next day, she never thought she would get any pleasure from her husband's erection, and she might be wrong or the heat got to her head but she couldn’t remember feeling him so stiff before. And for Garden’s sake, knowing she was the one making him painfully hard, was one sweat reward she never expected to feel.

“The crimes that I blame you for, they mean nothing more to me, my love” His words were sweet whispers as they shared sloppy kisses, while caressing her nude thighs. She was already soaking for him, it was not in her plans to get so easily aroused by him. But how can she not want to make true of every single fantazie she imagined all those years? Especially when Morpheus' was being gentle and attentive, his touch was addictive, her body responded to it as it did not need her mind to decide for it. As it wanted to give all for him. To be drunk on his touch, on his mouth, on his voice.

It wanted to ignore his words, but they kept resonating in her ears. Her body keep screaming to forget, forget and forget, that it didn’t matter, that she would ruin this, what she deserves, being worshiped in bed by her husband. She could smile and let him kiss her pain away, ignore his meaning. In a few moments he would be inside her, Love could tell by the way they kept quickly escalating their innocent kisses, and it would be pleasant, fulfilling, passionate, everything she always wanted. And Honesty would be right, Dream would try to compensate for all the years of negligence. And they would be the couple nobody invited to stay for longer festivities. But her mind kept turning the gears, repeating that he did not say that she was innocent of their forced marriage, he only dismissed it as he was forgiving her. He could not possible mean it, right?

“Crimes that I did not commit.” She lustfully whispered in the middle of a high pitched moan closing her eyes and pressing her forehead against his as Morpheus left her breasts to give attention to her neglected core, circling and pressing a finger over her thin underwear. He knew he was the only one to touch her wet cunt, she never had a lover and although he knew she not only could but should have by the way he treated her, he couldn’t help to feel more turned on by knowing he would be the only one giving her the denied pleasure he punished her with. And how much pleasure he plans to give Love.

His touch was vastly different from her own. It was intense and extremely hot, his fingers where slender and longer than hers, and could reach new spots she would not dream in touching, her insides clenched for him. “My lady, you are dripping for me.” He said as soon as he pushed away her underwear, and pushed a finger over her slit, circling her bud as well as pressing against her entrance. She hated how his words made it more difficult to think, how she grinded herself on his finger to raise the friction. “Yes, only for you, my king”. She felt dizzy and warm and drunk on his touch, Morpheus was painfully hard seeing her getting off on his fingers complemented with her filthy words, he gifted her pushing a finger inside her dripping entrance. It easily slided like it was meant to be inside her, he curled it in his direction, feeling her walls clenched around his fingers, as she cried at the intrusion. For a moment she thought that maybe she could make him say what she wanted if her body and mouth worked to let him be completely drunk on her as she was on him.

But it wouldn’t be true. He would say it merely to seek relise, to have her. Which was exactly what love has been avoided for all of these years.

She resisted the urge to ask him for another finger, although her body craved for it.

Trying to sober herself up from his touch and his warmth. She needed to hear him say. She needed more than any carnal desire. She needed to be believed by him. ”Morpheus?” She said his name for the first time, and squeezed his arm. He looked at her puzzely, she knew by his face that he was about to ask if he did anything to displease her, since her pleasure seems to be his focus. She cupped his face and looked him in the eyes, repeating herself “Crimes that I did not commit” so he would have the chance agree and make her entirely his.

He look at her, the lack of his immediate response set her aback and his next words were the wrong ones “We can move past this” a tired whisper, a string Dream was throwing at Love expecting she would catch. He went to kiss her again, but Love turned her face. The heat among them was lowering, and a wave of cold air ran through them, the rift between them opening again.

Love couldn’t believe that those words spoken in a sweet whisper, while both were entangled in each others arms, could be more cruel than any of their screams amids drunk fights before. How he managed to break her heart more than it was already broken.

Her eyes scanned through his face in disappointment and realization. “You still believe on that, don't you? You are convinced that I conspired with Desire.” Dream saw that he was losing her again, he saw in her green iris something broke inside her. Something drift away and slipped through his hands.

He could have lied, said exactly what she wanted to hear, but he couldn’t lie to himself and he couldn’t disrespect his wife by lying to her. They would be one of those couples that pretended to be happy, shoving everything else in the basement, until one day it came exploding in their faces. Or worse, it could be used against them, which could led to catastrophic consequences.

Love didn’t move, she dropped her hands fatigued, but still staring at her husband. Like holding her stare maybe would make him change his answer. What a romantic and stupid want. Her eyes started to feel dry, and the more she blinked the more she felt tears starting to pool. She felt ashamed of her exposed vulnerability. Not only of her body and how it crave for him, how it was responsive and wanted to ignore his words only to seek a sweet white relief, but her soul, how she let it again be hurt by him.

She was no better than any naive maid who fell for Wodan’s cheap charm. “ I am such a fool”

“ We can move past this” he repeated himself because that was the only think he could say. It was the past. They needed to move on. He holded her face in his hands caressing her cheek, looking at her teary eyes, he broke her heart once more, he knew and she was slipping away again, he wanted to hold her, so he could hold this moment, hold themselves.

Love knew if she nudged against his touch for a single moment, if she let him comfort her, she would not be able to leave. So she snap his hands of her.

She raised herself from him, returning to her side of the.bed, raising her sleeve and pushing down her gown feeling glad it was dark so he could not see the tears falling from her eyes. She wished she could run from this bedroom, whatever promises she made, threw it all to hell and never come back, never see his face again. “Love, please…” he reached his hands to touch hers, but she snapped them away before he could even touch her

She abruptly cut him, a knot in her throat making it almost impossible to speak, her voice was shaky, unstable, she felt herself trembling. “We can’t move past this, we can’t have a future without trust. We can’t hope for it, can’t you see, husband? You don’t forgive. And don’t tell me your imprisonment changed you, because you can say all you want but the proof of your inability to forgive lives in Hell at this moment because she declined you. And even after our marriage, the girl still is tormented in hell, just because you hold your grudges.”

“And do you forgive?! Do you dare say you don’t hold any grudges?!” Her husband snaps at her.

“My grudges are justified and you know it.” Love said in a serious tone

“And mine are not?” Love saw his point, but she would not argued it with him, besides she did not want to give in

“ You can’t forgive her, and you can’t forgive me” Love said it in one breath afraid if she stopped, she would begin to cry. And Love did not want to cry in front of him.

“Love, it is not at all the same, you…I…” Morpheus tried to justify, but what could he say? That Love was his wife, and he would never submit her to such treatment? He already did. He did not sent her to Hell, of course, but he did put her to live in misery.

“Eventually, we will fight again or I will displease you in some manner, and you will turn back to this ludicrous idea of conspiracy, and use it as fuel to punish me in bed and in public, and I will use wine to ease the pain you carelessly inflict on me. And you will say that I carved my own fate when I decided to conspire with Desire. As you said over and over.” Morpheus stayed silent, he couldn’t argue with her, Love knew his behavior too well.

Tears rolled freely from her cheeks, and Love did not make any attempt to clean them up “I am glad you are trying to fix the pain you cause me, I can see you truly repent of it and I am awfully sorry that you had to go through a century of imprisonment to realize your mistakes, but don’t lie to yourself, Morpheus, you don’t forget, you don’t move on and you still believe I mislead you, that I plot with Desire.” She glanced over at him, probably her own tears on the way, but if she didn’t know better, she would say that a tear ran through her husband cheek.

His voice however, was the same “It does not matter to me, it is nothing”

Love screamed in response losing her posture and control “It is everything! And it does matter to me! How can you be so blind?! You still think that some part of me is a vile creature that trapped you and hold you into a loveless marriage and that I conspired with Desire to aid in your demise.“

And pulling the memories, a week after their first night together, when she thought she could not live anymore, Love went to him, in all her innocence and naïveté “I begged you to believe me, I wept, I got on my knees, desperately pleading to you believe in my word, to see reason, to read the false letters, to believe in your wife. And do you know what you did, do you remember it?” At the ocassion she threw at his feet the hundred of letters written by Desire. And Dream, sat on his throne frowning reading a book, glanced at his wife, after the pleads and all was left was his sobbing Queen, on the lower step of the stairs, head in her hands, covering her eyes, as she kept crying.

Love never knew how he could see her crying and do nothing at all. Because that is what he did.

He left. Morpheus remembered it. He thought that Desire had chosen a good actress to partner with and how she patronize him, by thinking he, Lord of Dreams, would fall for a trick as a beautiful damsel in distress, in need of only his assistance.

“You left.” Love said it coldly. How could he not see the pain, she was before?

And Lord Morpheus, who would have dream prefer the silence but when spoke, speak always so eloquent, kept repeating the only thing he could “We still can find way to be together”

Amidst a sob that Love did not mean to escape but it found its way to her mouth before her words, she decided to open her heart, because what else would he do? He couldn’t break her heart anymore, he couldn’t lose her anymore that she was already lost “I love you, Morpheus. I do. I have to say it now because I won’t be able to muster up the courage to say it again. Against every fiber of my being, every pure logic, even knowing you were not the one the wrote those letters, I still see those same traits that made me fell in love, you are dutiful to your work, to the mortal world and the dream folk, you deeply feel and care for those you love even if I never was the one receiving it, I could see. And it hurts, because you never believed in the sincerity of my feelings and I cannot believe yours are anything but starvation of touch and sympathy, I am a fool for even a second thinking otherwise, and I can not bear to risk being misled again. I simply cannot hold anymore pain”

He didn’t know why he tried to speak but he had to “Love, listen-“ he had to at least try to make her stop, to make him rethink. But the doors were closed.

Elijah said Lady Love’s heart was never closed to love, that was her essence, but he was not sure if her Cupid ever saw her like this.

The way Love spoke next, it was devoided of any emotion, any pain, it was a tired speech, but she spoke as it was not up for discussion. And how could Morpheus tried to argue with her?

“After the Festival, I wish to go back to the Garden, with my court. We will call it a holiday. I will not be coming to the Dreaming, unless under your calling, and I deeply expect my lord husband to be less inclined in calling me, and highly advise you to find a mistress that will take care of your needs, for I won’t willingly lay with you anymore.”

She slided under the covers turning to the other side, looking at the window, they both stayed silent. The sound of Cain’s shovel being the only noise filling the space. She heard his sigh in defeat, more wonded than ever before.

“ Very well, lady wife”

@secretdreamlandmentality @littlemoistcarrot @lokigirlszendaya @roxytheimmortal

[rippersz]

The meat is cold.

«——..✞..——»

«——..✞..——»

(DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT) (Mentions of cannibalism, murder, slight glorification of both, etc.) (Larissa Weems x Reader oneshot)

«——..✞..——»

“She eats the hearts first, before they go bad— as all hearts will.” ~ Jessica D. Thompson

«——..✞..——»

“Are you going to eat me?”

You’ve asked her before but you repeat yourself anyway.

Larissa blinks. Long and slow. Sizing you up. Running her blue eyes over the length of your arms and stretch of your legs. Something flickers there. You briefly wonder if she’s questioning how fast you can run. You briefly wonder if she’s salivating over the thought of catching you.

“I didn’t plan on it, but now that I look at you closely, I think you want me to.”

You swallow.

She’s wrong, of course. She’s wrong. It’s just her own delusions. She thinks and perceives what she wants to think and perceive. Truth does not matter to a liar. The sweat on your palms says it all.

“I don’t.” Your voice is firm, but somehow it doesn’t feel like enough. Somehow it feels like-

“I don’t believe you.”

-like she won’t believe you.

“Why not?”

A weird heated pleasure fills you at the sight of her smirk. Red, curling, slight, full of undeniable mirth. She really does find you funny. She really does enjoy your time together; you’ve never doubted that.

But you should. You really should. You don’t want to be one of the sheep. You don’t want to play with the facade and finally accept her for what she is on the surface. You don’t want to know her as the school principal. You don’t want to die.

“Because you’re still here. And the door is unlocked.”

Yes. You knew that. She rarely locked it. Mainly because that wouldn’t be very professional, but also because she wanted to give others the option of leaving. Anxious or angry students, tired staff members, pleased parents… they could leave whenever they wished. You could leave whenever you wished. You could leave right now.

Then why aren’t you moving?

“Who is this?” You sniff, looking down at the plate in front of you, desperately trying to grasp for some control.

You agreed on dinner at some point. She took you up on it by surprise earlier that morning. The food, she said, was on her. The meal, cooked to perfection thanks to her skills, was supposed to be delicious. To anyone else, it would be. They’d have been nearly finished by now, praising her to the heavens and letting out little noises of appreciation. But you know what she is. And you know that you’ve never really been interested in eating people before.

“I don’t see why that matters,” is the smooth response you get - quickly followed by the clink of silverware and the cut of meat and the gentle hum of a woman satisfied. You can’t bring yourself to look up.

“…Did they deserve it?” You’re not sure of what else to ask - you just know that you don’t want to leave. You would never admit that out loud, never willingly, but it’s the truth. You are the killer’s favorite. You are safe. You are better than them.

“Doesn’t everyone deserve it at some point or another?” Her voice is light and airy- twinkling with a complete lack of care.

“No,” is your immediate sharp response. It sort of slips off of your tongue by accident, but when you look up to gauge her reaction, you’re surprised to see not even a hint of shock or anger. Instead, all that paints her eyes is intense recognition. Like she knew you’d say that. Like she knew you were a morally correct hero hiding a dark heart.

“No?” Her fork spears a piece of meat. ‘Sirloin,’ she’d said when you first sat down. Yeah, right. “Why do you say that?”

You fix her with a look. A very obvious look. A look with a tilt of your head. One that says ‘You and I aren’t the same Larissa, but you know exactly what I mean.’ One that says ‘Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to.’ One that says, secretly, ‘I don’t know. I just know that I’ve been told no good soul deserves death.’

Your mouth, on the other hand, says “Just because we all end up dying doesn’t mean we all deserve it. There are some amazing people out there that would have made the world better if they were still around.”

She seems to think over your serious response, rolling it around within her vast mind. While she formulates a suitable reply, her lips move with each chew of her steak - you try hard not to focus on that. When it comes to killers, good ones at least, there’s always that thing said about them: they’re charming; handsome or pretty; they’re alluring in a way that no “normal human” could be. Larissa Weems has never been the exception. She is no different. It can be disturbingly easy to get lost in the other things she has to offer. Like her beauty. Or her intelligence. Or the way her eye contact makes you feel like the most important, most recognizable, most wonderful thing in the entire world. You’d compare her to a drug but she is something worse than that. She is an aura. A feeling. She is something entirely different. You think it’s partly due to her outcast status. She’s not a ‘fur’ or a ‘fang’ or a ‘scale’ or a ‘stoner’. She’s not just regularly odd or eccentric. She’s not even mythical.

And yet?

And yet.

The very atoms in her body, the skin across her bones and veins and muscles, the makeup of her organs, can shift shape. Can adjust. The image is crafted in her mind and suddenly is mirrored onto her body. You’d never seen it in person, up close, but you know it’s true. You know it’s a wondrous thing to see. You know some sick desperate hungry part of you twists with the desire to watch her body become something entirely different. You know you want to see her in her element.

Whether it’s bloody or not.

“You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain… I think that sums it up perfectly. The longer a person stays in good health, the more bitter they become. No one truly wants to live forever, Y/n. You know this…,” Larissa pauses, taking a moment to slip her long fingers under and around the belly of her wine glass so she can take a sip. You watch as her throat moves with a swallow. “…And those who go against nature and insist that they do want to live forever, that they’ll somehow find the world to be better as the years go on, well…,” blue eyes suddenly move to you, slicing into your gaze. “They’re liars, of course.”

Of course.

Liars. Of course.

You know it’s the truth.

You hate when she’s right.

You hate when she knows she’s right. There’s that playful little sign in her eyes, glowing with satisfaction, glowing like the cat who captured the mouse.

“I hate you.” It’s a small whisper. A little defeat. Another start to the same cycle. You indulge her, you meet with her, you keep her secret, you dip into your own psyche and pull out your weird fascination with her mind. You go at it until you find yourself becoming tired of thinking so much. Then you tell her you hate her. Or you yell at her. Or you storm out or slam the door or just fall silent and allow for the excitement to pitter out into nothing. But eventually, every time, at some point, you let it die.

Only to revive it again. Only to get lost, once more, in her beauty and allure. Her stupidly literal killer charm. Her strange instinctive ability to easily slip out of trouble and cover her tracks. Not that there were many tracks to cover in the first place. She’s very very good. Worryingly good. No one suspects a thing.

You could fix that, though.

You could put an end to her reign of terror.

You could say one word, provide one sample of one of her dinners, drop a hint or two, and she’d be placed behind bars faster than you could blink.

You could save so many people.

You can save so many people.

You can snatch up a piece of the cold meat on your plate, walk right out of her office, and race down to the Nevermore van. You can do it. You’re not terribly fast but adrenaline pushes the human limit. And though you’re not human- seeing as you can control fire- you’re not too keen on burning her alive. Such an act would probably result in Nevermore’s demise as well - and that would break your heart.

Would Larissa’s death break your heart?

You look up from your hands and study her face. There’s a sudden tiredness there. It’s small, minuscule, but the lines in her skin look deeper and the weariness in her gaze looks shinier and the mask, you realize, has slipped. She’s frowning- not a lot but just enough. And she’s not looking at you. Well, she is, but not into your eyes like she usually does. No, no, she’s staring at… at your chest. At your heart. You’re sure she doesn’t have X-ray vision but some part of you wonders if that’s what she’s trying so hard to see. Your pumping life. Your beating force. If it expands and contracts for her and her only… or if it breathes to destroy her. If any of her interest, her fascination, even matters in the first place. She’s never told you why you’re so special; so important; so cherished, but that doesn’t deter her from her advances. From her fluttered lashes or easy smiles or husky laughs or occasional indulging conversation. It’s not seduction at its finest, but stalking at its lowest. Like she’s watching you through the underbrush and you know she’s there and she knows that you know she’s there and you both stand still because maybe, by some miracle, if you don’t move, you can enjoy the silent attention of each other for just a little longer. Because you can’t help but think that maybe if she were more normal and more caring and didn’t enjoy the taste of long pork over the taste of regular pork, you’d be able to somehow fall in love with her. Start a life with her. And not have to worry about her waking up one day and deciding that she wants to prepare and plate your kidneys for supper.

Would Larissa’s death break your heart?

You hear her clear her throat. You watch as she takes another sip of wine. You see her hand shake. You see the appetite she once had perish on her tongue.

“I hate you,” you’d said.

Did you mean it?

Will you ever mean it?

Why are you doing this to yourself?

Why do you love her?

Why does she not see it?

“I know,” is Larissa’s final response. Something dies behind her eyes. “I know.”

And the cycle continues.

«——..✞..——»

A swift dive into some stranger fic topics. I figure if Larissa were to be a ‘baddie’, she’d be a cannibal. I may make this part of a little series of scenarios. Hope you’re all doing well. - Rip x

«——..✞..——»

[youthereader]

Gator catches you.

PAIRING: gator tillman (fargo) x teenage fem!reader

SUMMARY: 2.4k. Gator finds you on the edge of town after he lets you get away.

RATING: e; NONCON, mentions of underage drinking and drug use, reader is an 18 year-old high schooler, unprotected anal sex, vaginal fingering, public sex, gaslighting, angst, dead dove do not eat

A/N: this took a much darker turn than the first part. I didn't plan on writing more for this character but a couple people wanted more. this is a dark fic, so if it's not your jam, turn away now.

Part 1. (Gator blackmails you.)

You sense that your friends are suspicious after Gator Tillman caught you and not them that night. They ask about what happened and you lie, saying you managed to talk your way out of it, he let you go with a warning.

They’re thankful, initially, because you never ratted on them, though they deserved it for ditching you. Then you feel them start to pull away from you, especially after you blow a couple of your male friends at parties. It’s not like you, and that’s the point. You’re chasing a high you can’t get from guys your age. You blow them, and they enjoy it, but what makes you a target from then on is how quickly it happened. Two guys in the space of forty-eight hours.

Rumors start around school and it eventually gets back to you, that you’re a slut now, and random guys that have never spoken to you before ask for your Snapchat and harass you in-between classes about hanging out on weekends. The attention is weird, and so obvious. You’ve never been known for anything before, and now you exist.

The emptiness you feel from hooking up since Gator frustrates you, but nothing is worse than how unsatisfied you feel every time you make yourself come. The relief is so fleeting, that within seconds of finishing you need more. No fantasy is enough, and you’re at it night after night, not sleeping enough.

Your grades aren’t suffering yet but your homeroom teacher asks to see you, expressing their concern. They say you’re not yourself, you don’t seem as happy. Honestly, you’re not. Things felt less complicated before. You used to not search the main road of town for anyone. You used to want to be invisible.

To let off steam, you go to a party with those same shitty friends, but this time some college guys are there with weed and pills. You smoke a little, but drink more, end up under one of them but don’t remember much of it. The next morning, a friend pulls you aside, a smirk barely hidden as she asks:

“You know we heard you begging that guy to choke you, right?”

The humiliation hits you and you shake your head. “Fuck off. I’m not into that weird shit.”

“Your kink’s your kink, dude,” she retorts, shrugging. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Shut the fuck up, because it’s not my kink,” you snarl, and her eyes flash with irritation.

“Whatever.”

The anxiety you used to feel when you thought you might have upset one of your friends doesn’t come on as strong this time. You don’t care if they decide to exclude you, not if they’re going to make fun of how you want to fuck.

All you care about is trying to find a way out of this funk, by any means necessary. You hang around one of the guy friends you blew, doing dumb shit that culminates in some light graffitiing. Not exactly your area of expertise, as it turns out.

You realize too late that you’re caught, your friend yelling to run away. In your defense, you’re a little high from a joint you shared earlier, so when the spray can you’re holding is knocked out of your hand, it plays in slow motion. It clatters across the ground in the alley you still occupy, and you turn around, fingers wrapping around your neck as you’re pulled to your feet.

Gator lifts you up, shoving you against the wall, knocking the wind out of you. You cough, hands going to his wrist. His gloved hand doesn’t budge when you try to scratch him off.

“You fuckin’ bitch,” he hisses, his eyes alight with amusement.

You can’t breathe, feet kicking him, but he’s stock still as he stares back at you, then glances at your handiwork.

“What the fuck,” he adds, sounding a little amazed. “Since when are you doing this petty shit?”

You can’t reply of course, and he pays you no mind, letting you go. You tumble, your knees breaking your fall, as he moves closer to the wall to inspect it. On the ground, you cough and hold your throat, sure you’re going to puke, but you don’t. The world spins regardless, righting itself in time for you to see him stalking you again. You scamper backwards, and Gator stands over you, hands on hips.

“If I find you by yourself again, you’re dead.”

You wonder what he means, because he’s not threatening arrest this time. Your eyes slip down his front and you spy the outline of his erection. Your fear enticed him again. The thrill that runs through you is like no other, and your chest heaves some more, the air not quite filling you enough.

“Gator –”

He walks away, and in a way, you’re grateful because you don’t know what you would have said to him. You lean against the wall, closing your eyes, your neck still aching.

-

You’re past caring. You can be friendless now, it’s not as if they were helping you to begin with. You go to school, you go home. You do nothing on weekends. You get isolated quickly, predictably. It would be sad if you were your younger self.

You walk alone everywhere when your house feels cramped. You don’t want your parents to worry, they’ve never been particularly invested in your social life to begin with. You slip out one afternoon and find yourself walking along the road Gator drove you down.

You think about him almost constantly, like a low hum in the background you can occasionally ignore, but it’s always there. The sun is starting to set later in the afternoon, the worst parts of winter are over. It’s not snowing anymore, but the air still is fresh, making your of your face tingle.

In your own world, it’s no wonder that a car pulls up by you. The road is otherwise empty, and you know who it is before you even look towards it.

Gator rolls down his window, calling out your name. You  glance his way, clutching the strap of your bag a little tighter, your face burning.

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you call back, not stopping.

You’ve been waiting for him, for what feels like weeks. Maybe months? Years, if you’re truly honest? You didn’t know you needed him until now. This darkness.

“I told you you’d regret walking alone…”

You stop abruptly at that, glaring at him, and the car rolls to a stop. He gives a grin, takes a long drag of his vape. You say nothing.

“How come I heard you’re fuckin’ random guys for weed?”

“Why would you care?” you throw back. You cringe. “I mean, you’ve got no evidence-”

He smiles again. “I am the law, baby. But I mean if you’re doin’ shit like that, I might need to get checked.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snap, and turn your heel.

You hear him open his door but you walk on, not sure what you want. If he takes you to the station now, your reputation is hardly worth saving at this point. Must have been one of your so-called friends that started the rumor he heard. If he wants to blackmail you again, is there any point fighting him? You miss him, he fucked you up.

You can’t stop the anger that boils over, when he grabs your arm and jerks you back.

“I’m talkin’ to ya-”

He kisses you on the lips and you bite him on the lip, Gator pulling back with a yell, his fingers going to his lips. You freeze, terrified by your own stupid impulse.

“What the fuck? You fuckin’ bit me?!”

He grabs you by the neck and marches you back, shoving you against the hood of his car. His hips meet your ass and you can’t move, he’s way too heavy though you struggle against him. Whatever desire you have for him, when Gator is angry he is fucking terrifying. You have no idea what he’s capable of. He has a gun, for fuck’s sake, and you’re just some kid sister of his friend’s.

His hand is down the back of your pants and you shriek, his gloved fingers invading your cunt without preamble, the tears springing in your eyes. You grip him back, his low chuckle behind you.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs. “You’re over-complicatin’ this…”

You close your eyes, trying to reel it in, the fear… the pleasure beginning to coil in your stomach. You hear the harsh squelches of your cunt being worked, you hear his belt unbuckling–

“Gator, please…”

You blubber, your legs shaking as he yanks your pants down, ridding you of his fingers, only to pin you back down against the cold metal beneath you. He keeps your arms pinned behind you, and you can’t see what he’s doing, you’re forced to listen, to wait.

Everything careens forward as you feel him take a swipe of your juices and move further up, up, up to between your cheeks. You start to sob louder.

“Shh. Shut up!”

“Gator, wait. Wait, please, wait – wait – don’t -!”

He rubs at your puckered hole, the sensation making you whimper and plead. You’re not ready, you’ve never done this before. Your bare ass exposed to him, you’re completely helpless, and you know that’s what gets him off.

“You’re worth freezin’ my balls off,” he whispers, and you know what’s happening next, but you can’t quite believe it.

Not until the first push of the tip of his cock against your asshole, and you tense, whimpering as you squirm beneath him.

“Just relax. Relax!”

You grit your teeth, tears streaming down your face as you feel him push past the first ring of muscle. The pain is like nothing else in your life, and you go still, succumbing to it. He groans, chuckles in awe.

“Holy shit. Holy shit…”

He fills you up, then starts to move back and forth, slow at first. You feel stretched beyond comprehension, like at some point you’ll break. Like he’ll literally tear you open. It burns, until it doesn’t, your body turning lax Gator fucks you hard, but slowly. With each knock of his body against yours, you hear the slap of your skin, your cheek rubbing the hood of his car.

His hand on your ass cheek slips under, and you yelp at the feeling of his hand covering your pussy, brushing the folds as he never stops.

“I gotta-”

He replaces his hand again, having tugged off his glove with his teeth, and he starts to chuckle again, low and a little breathless.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

You don’t bother arguing, because you know you are. There’s no turning back, from how your body just won’t cooperate for you when you need it most. You feel wound tight, Gator on your throbbing clit as his hips smack against your ass.

He unexpectedly tucks his fingers inside your cunt again, the sensation making you tense up again. You wail as he works you, he’s no longer pinning you against the car to stop you from escaping. He dedicates himself to pleasure, yours and his, his thumb rubbing against your clit as he reaches the deepest parts of you.

You feel the sudden urge to pee, panicking. If you struggle, but even with your arms free, you can’t shift his weight, your hands blindly trying to reach behind to shove him off.

You give an almighty shudder and come hard, losing your vision. Your orgasm is long and intense, and like nothing else you’ve managed before. It almost hurts from the intensity of it. You blink back the world as you recover, your empty cunt twitching as Gator wrings his hand.

“Made you squirt…”

He takes hold of your hips and bears down, speeding up his thrusts. He doesn’t stop, and it’s hurting more, with your thighs soaked, his cock working in and out of you without reprieve.

“Can’t get ya pregnant, this was the only way-”

He makes a choked sound and goes still, half falling on top of you, and you know he’s come inside you without checking. You feel him pull out and you wince, and then there’s a trickle down your crack.

He steps back and you take the opportunity to pull your pants up again, panting like he is, leaning on the hood of his car. You’re still in shock, not pulling away when he grabs your chin and kisses you, tongue slipping into your mouth.

A beat later he changes his mind, taking hold of your front and pulls you towards the backseat. He opens it and puts you inside, goes to his door and slips back in.

He takes deep a lungful of air, sighing. You stare at your legs, your damp pants. Everything feels warm and sticky, and you’re sweating.

“You okay?” he asks, and you glance at him in the rearview mirror, perplexed.

“What?”

“You came, right?”

You look away. You know why he’s saying that. It’s to make it seem like he’s not guilty of anything. You swallow hard.

“I would’ve… done those things if you’d asked me to,” you say.

He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

You go quiet, and you see he’s driving you home. You can’t believe this happened in broad daylight, thinking that would make a difference at all. Apparently not to Gator.

“Hey, I’ve been followin’ you. It was bound to happen sooner or later to you, since you’re actin’ so dumb and reckless. It’s better it was me than some other guy you don’t know-”

“But I don’t know you,” you retort, your voice hoarse with tears. “I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do. And stop cryin’. It’s a real turn-off.”

“You’re… fucking evil,” you whisper.

He looks at you, turning his head to glare at you through the partition this time.

“Hey, you got off.”

He turns back, and you travel in silence back to your house. There’s no car in the driveway, no-one is home yet. He doesn’t move to get out of the car, your eyes meeting in the mirror.

“You tell anyone, I’ll kill ya.”

You believe him, but you deflate with a kind of weariness instead of turning still with fear like he hoped.

“Yeah, I figured.”

He lets you out, and you walk to your front door without looking back. The kicker is that once he leaves, you take a long time to clean yourself up. You peel off your clothes, smell his come and yours all over you when you stand in the bathroom, the shower running already.

You savor each step of it, seeing pink water in the bottom of the shower. He hurt you, badly, and yet you feel that longing again.

He’s that high you need to chase.

if you're still here, thanks. 🖤 if you want more, hmu.

[rems-writing]

Thar he goes

Pairing: siren!Wooyoung x sailor!reader

Summary: Back on my OUAT bullshit lol

Warning(s): slight mentions of almost drowning, Wooyoung being clingy

Genre: Cracked out fluff

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society

"BRING BACK THE MERMAID!"

"AND WHAT?! YOU'LL WIN HER OVER WITH YOUR RAINBOW KISSES AND UNICORN STICKERS?!"

"MAYBE THAT'S WHAT WE KIND OF FUCKING NEED RIGHT NOW!"

"SHUT UP, YOU USELESS SAILOR!"

Ooh. You had enough of Regina's bullshit. You let go of the rigging and tackled the Evil Queen. Surprised by this, she tried to blast you away with her magic yet you were quicker and smarter. You placed a black leather cuff on her wrist and when she tried to flick her hand, no magic came out.

"HA! MAYBE NOW YOU'LL LEARN THAT ALL MAGIC IS USELESS SO FIGHT ME LIKE A WOMAN, BITCH!"

"WHY YOU - "

Regina tackled you but you sidestepped just in time for the Queen to actually tackle Mary Margaret (Snow White) instead. You cackled at the two women throwing hands at each other until you felt something sharp being pointed at your back. You turned around to see David (Charming) angrily pointing a sword at you.

"YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE! ARE YOU ON REGINA'S SIDE OR OURS?!"

"I'M ON THE SIDE OF LIVING, YOU BASTARD! DON'T POINT THAT THING AT ME!"

"BREAK UP THE FIGHT BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM NOW!"

"LET THE SLAGS HASH IT OUT, YOU WHINY PRINCE! GOD YOU WERE SO MUCH BETTER WHEN YOU WERE ABOUT TO FILLET THAT BITCH!"

"DON'T CALL MY WIFE A SLAG!"

David charged at you and you sidestepped quickly once more, regretting it slightly when he ran into your captain by accident.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL, Y/N?!"

"SORRY, HOOK! WELL... NOT REALLY! YOU DESERVE IT!"

"FOR WHAT?!"

"FOR MAKING ME GO THROUGH THIS CRAP!"

Hook was now charging at you with his sword in his hand. Realizing the 'oh shit i fucked up' moment, you grabbed a rope and swung over to where Emma was trying to keep the Jolly Roger steady.

"EMMA, YOU'RE THE ONLY TOLERABLE ONE AT THE MOMENT SO I'MMA WARN YOU RIGHT NOW! WE'RE HEADING INTO DANGEROUS TERRITORY!"

"WHAT COULD BE MORE DANGEROUS THAN THIS STORM?!"

As if on cue, singing voices could be heard from the depths of the sea. The rest of the group stopped fighting and stood still as the singing voices grew louder and louder. Only you and Emma could resist the singing, which would explain the apprehension on her face as eight men appeared on the boat after a brief flash of lightening passed by.

"SHIT!"

You quickly ran down to the group and your eyes widened when you saw one of them reach out to caress Mary's face with webbed hands.

"HANDS OFF, SCALY MOTHERFUCKERS!"

You shoved him to the side and felt his catlike eyes pierce your soul.

"I'M SORRY! YOU'LL THANK ME LATER!"

You slapped her, then Regina, then David, and finally, your captain. Emma grew shocked as they tried to snap out of it.

"WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?!"

"IT WAS EITHER THAT OR THEY ALL DIE FROM EITHER DROWING OR A SINGLE BITE!"

"THEY'RE STILL HERE! WHAT SHOULD WE DO?!"

"PROTECT THEM AS THEY SNAP BACK TO REALITY! I'M GOING WITH THEM!"

"I'M NOT LETTING YOU GO WITH A BUNCH OF SIRENS!"

"JUST TRUST ME!"

With that, you dove off the ship and the sirens followed you in after, almost drowning you in the process when they dove in. The last thing you could recall was a mop of dark hair hovering over your sinking body.

---------------------------------------------------

"Unicorn stickers? Seriously?"

"Yeah. That's exactly what Regina said to Snow."

A high-pitched laugh, followed by other laughs, filled the hollow siren grove while you retold the story of how that mermaid basically caused chaos aboard the ship.

You didn't necessarily drown. You only pretended to drown so you could escape the chaos of those enchanted forest crackheads and your equally stupid captain. You felt scaly arms wrap around you and a chin land on your shoulder and you looked down to see your favorite siren with the witch cackle he emitted earlier.

"Yes, Wooyoung?"

"I want attention."

"But you already have it."

"Well I want more~"

His whines and pout made the other seven sirens groan in annoyance and you hushed them. The siren with the cat eyes then asked something.

"So what will happen once they stop Peter Pan? Will you help them escape Neverland?"

"Perhaps. But they seriously need to work together if the Savior wants to save that son of hers."

"Speaking of which, how did she not know that Neal's real name was Baelfire?"

"San, be for real. Imagine you're on a date in that Land without Magic and a man introduces themself with the name Baelfire. Besides, after going through that portal, he's gotta blend in somehow."

"Ok ok. Lemme follow up with this. How did August, or Pinocchio I should say, know that Neal is Baelfire?"

You thought about that for a moment before shrugging.

"Meh. Don't know, don't care. Anyways, lemme know if that ghastly crew of adult misfits find their way off Neverland so I can help my captain man the Jolly Roger once more. Maybe I'll find a way to get your siren asses to Storybrooke. That Ariel chick did. Might as well give you guys a place to live, right?"

The seven of them cheered while Wooyoung hugged you tightly.

"Thanks, doll." He said affectionately and kissed your cheek.

"No problem, Woo. All within a day's work I suppose."

[eclecticqueennerd]

Confessions

Part 3

*language, mentions of r*pe, kidnapping, mild gaslighting, brief mentions of smeggs, angst*

Butcher POV

You lot didn’t deserve how he’s been treating you lately, pushing you to the brink of exhaustion and then pushing some more. His need for revenge for Lenny caused Kimiko to almost die. No, that was her fault. She shouldn’t have jumped in front of Soldier Boy. Sure, Frenchie could have been killed but still, Kimiko will get better, she always does. At least y/n wasn’t hurt.

Oh y/n. He could list all the reasons as to why he fell hard and fast for you but there’s not enough hours in the day. Where he barked orders to the crew, you were there to keep their spirits up. When he fell victim to his thoughts of self-loathing, you were there to talk him off the ledge. You showed the boys loyalty when you finally got your revenge on the supe that killed your husband after finding out how high the Vought shit ladder went. You were support, humility, loyalty, kindness, knowledge, and compassion. Everything that Butcher wasn’t.

But then you had to go and become the very thing he despised. A fucking supe. In the back of his mind, he knew y/n was forced into becoming enhanced and that he shouldn’t have stormed out, especially after finding out how Homelander violated you. But even in the best of times, Butcher can’t control his anger. Despite how many times you’d tell him he’s not, he’s exactly who his father says he is.

*flashback*

When you were kidnapped by Homelander, Butcher went into beast mode. Anyone who had the smallest bit of information on where you were located was met with brutality that even made the boys nervous to be around him. When Grace told him that you were found and safe with her, he damn near dropped everything to drive as fast as he could to meet you. He had to see that you were alright. He needed to hold you and by doing so, would calm the waves of fury, sadness, and relief that was pulsing through his veins. He had to tell you that he loved you.

Grace refused to tell him your exact location, per your request. You should have just spit in his face, it would have the same effect. When the two of you were reunited, all the ill feelings dissipated as he finally got to embrace you. She’s fine, she’s here, my y/n.

“Where ya been dove, what took you so long?”

“Sorry, I wanted to stay longer to train.”

“You let some other cunt train ya? I coulda done it.”

The calm went as quickly as it came once new information came to light on how to take Vought down. Butcher never got the chance to confess his feelings.

While on missions together, Butcher wanted to but never breached the topic of what happened while you were kidnapped. He wanted you to trust him and tell him in your own time, as he did with you about Lenny. He was attentive to whatever needs you had; you did not want for nothing. As time progressed, he noticed subtle differences. You were quick to catch things falling off the kitchen table, you were finally able to open that jar of pickles you always asked Butcher to open, he purposely tightened it each time to make sure you’d come to him for help. One night you cut yourself with a paring knife while mincing garlic and the next morning,

“Hey, how’s the finger?”

“What about it?”

“Ya cut it last night making dinner.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did, I patched you up.”

“I think you dreamed that, Billy. See?” Butcher looks at your finger, “My finger is fine.”

“Huh, guess I did dream it.”

“Looks like we’ve been hanging out too much, you’re starting to dream about me dicing my fingers off.” Y/n was also increasingly jumpy around him even though he was as gentle as possible around her.

In hindsight, this should have been a red flag, but he's always been blinded when it comes to you. Now, piecing it all together it makes sense after you told him you were a supe.

“Hello, Earth to Butcher.” Maeve snapped her fingers. He came back to the task at hand, the Temp- V. Frenchie and Kimiko were at the hospital, MM quit the mission and went back to his apartment and tasked Hughie and y/n with finding Soldier Boy after he blew up a small building in New York.

“Did you even hear a word I said, Butcher?” Maeve asked. He shrugged,

“No.” Maeve scoffed.

“You should apologize to her.”

“To who?”

“Y/n.”

“You’ve got no business talking to me about y/n. How bout you just give me the Temp-V and fuck off?”

“Come one I know the two of you are fighting right now. She’s your friend and if you just tell her-“

“Who the fuck is telling you all this, eh?”

“Starlight.”

“Well, that cunt doesn’t know everything. I’ve got nothing to apologize for. I’ve done nothing wrong.” That’s fucking lie. Maeve threw the packet of vials on the couch.

“Fine, don’t take my advice. What do I know?” Just before Maeve left, Butcher stood up and offered her a drink of vodka.

“I’m 4 months sober you asshole.”

“Oh... Starlight never told me.”

“Like you said that bitch doesn’t know everything.” Maeve looks at the bottle and back to Butcher, she grabs the class and plops herself onto the couch. As the evening sky turned black, Butcher and Maeve busied themselves fucking on MM’s desk in the corner of the hideout.

“You know what Butcher? You’re a real piece of shit.”

Yeah, yeah, he was.

[sassykattery]

Losses and Gains, Pt. 2

It's getting hot in here~

CW: MC is afab, uses she/her pronouns. MC is a demon and poly. *Smut scene: piv, creampie, more romance focused sex. Praise kink.

Themes: Romance. LuciferxMC. Amnesia. Smut. Some angst.

Characters: MC="you", Lucifer

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

Enjoy

You couldn't help but look up at him again, the haze of desire clouding your thoughts. "Can you tell me more about you? About... us?" You asked.

Lucifer chuckled again and finally found his seat beside you, an arm slithering around your waist to rest his hand on your hip.

"Well, you and I have quite a bit of history," he stated. "We dated once before and broke it off. After some time, we came back together, and just a couple months ago I proposed to you."

"Why did we break up?" You became quiet.

"I was not good to you. I did not treat you well," he replied with a sigh, knowing you deserved full honesty. "I often took out my jealousy on you or ignored you completely."

"Well, if we're now engaged, then I suppose we ended up working things out, and it's different now, yes?" You asked hopefully. Lucifer smiled and nodded, dipping his head down.

"Indeed, dove," he agreed.

"So now, about you."

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me something only I would know," you requested.

"Hmm..." he hummed in thought. "That could entail a number of things. You're the only one who knows how to make my coffee. You know when I'm so tired that staying up late to work serves no point, so you're able to take me to bed. You know how to work around my pride when I'm stubborn," he offered to you. His voice lowered, "There's the more intimate things, like you know just how to tease me, get me riled up. You know exactly what to say and do to get me off."

Your blush dusted your cheeks, neck, and chest at his words, and you looked away in embarrassment. "That's what you meant by lots of things," you whispered.

"I also know quite a bit about you, being your first," he whispered into your ear, his warm breath tickling the hairs on your scalp and neck.

"My... first?" You blinked a few times, processing it.

"Mhm," he hummed in reply. "You told me that night that you trusted me, and that I was special to you," he stated.

Sharply, you turned to look at him, burning with arousal.

"And I know when you look at me like that, you want me to take you into my arms and make love to you," he said quietly.

You were silent, just for a moment, trying to decide what to do. Lust won out.

"Please..." you whispered.

"You have to tell me exactly what you want," he said, inching closer. "I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you, nor do I want to."

"I want this. I want you," you pleaded. "I want you to make love to me, show me what we have."

"Gladly," Lucifer whispered, dipping down to kiss you softly. His lips felt just a little bit needier now, and you're sure you probably felt the same to him. "Shall I take the lead?" He muttered against your lips.

"Yes."

He climbed back over you, and you shuffled down to lie flat on the mattress, looking up at your presumed lover. You two kissed once more, and you finally felt brave in letting your hands roam his body over his clothes. He was firm and muscular from what you could tell, and it intrigued you to know more. When he started to unbutton your shirt, you watched with wide, nervous eyes.

"You can tell me to stop if you want," he said, seeing your expression, his hand hovering over the last button. You simply shook your head.

Slowly, he opened up your shirt to reveal your bare torso. He moved down, pulling off your lounge pants, and when he returned to pull at your panties, your hand snatched his wrist.

"Sorry!" You replied quickly. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"I will admit, you weren't quite this shy the first time," Lucifer chuckled. "I think perhaps we should take it a little slower, then," he suggested. Hopping off the bed, he went and locked your door, then he stood before you and slowly stripped away his clothes. Unable to help yourself, you sat up and watched with curiosity, much to his delight.

Once he was only in his underwear, he crawled back into the center of the bed, and then gestured you to come to him. Straddling his lap, you sat back onto your rear on his thighs. He brushed your shirt off your shoulders, helping you out of it and tossing it onto the floor.

"We can stay like this until you're comfortable," he stated, brushing your hair out of your face.

"You're very... patient," you observed. He chuckled at your response.

"I learned at one point in our relationship, pushing you into things you didn't want to do or weren't ready for was not in my best interest," he recalled.

"That's wise," you agreed.

His hands purchased your plush hips, thumbing over your soft skin. In return, your hands rested on his chest, feeling his firm muscles.

"Why are you attracted to me?" You asked suddenly and bluntly.

Lucifer's brows furrowed at your question. "Never once have you asked me that," he said.

"Really?" He nodded. "I suppose... I'm just curious. If I was a human and caused that much trouble in my first year, I would assume you'd be repulsed by me," you said.

"Repulsed?" He sounded offended. "No, even when you first came here, I found you rather intriguing, pleasing to look at. However, I wasn't going to allow myself to fall for someone that I'd end up losing in such a short time." He looked away. "I was the reason we lost out on a lot of time together. I am regretful of those actions, but I can't change them."

Your eyes widened. "Oh? Were you afraid of intimacy and being vulnerable with me?" You blurted out.

Lucifer stiffened at your question, not entirely fond of your current boldness, but it couldn't be helped, in his mind. "It's possible," he replied, slightly stubborn.

"I also asked my prior question because..." you trailed off, looking at his torso. There was some strange part of you that caused your brain to diverge into two thoughts. One said that you could finish the question, the other said it was preposterous, and you don't have to worry about such things. It felt as though someone placed a zipper on your mouth until you could work your way around one or both issues.

"What you're feeling is your sin," he stated, watching you have an internal confliction, feeling the sinful energy radiating off of you. "I assume you were going to say something about our appearances." You nodded. "My darling, as I said, the moment you arrived here in the Devildom, I struggled to keep myself under control around you. In every moment we were alone, all I could think about was the one hundred thousand ways I'd have you if you'd let me."

His hands left your hips and began to wander up and down your form, drinking you in. He gently kneaded the rolls, curves, valleys, and peaks of your body. "All of this is quite special, and I would be sorely remiss if I didn't make sure you knew that," he murmured. Sitting up, he kissed your lips again, and you finally melted into him.

"I love you dearly," he muttered against your lips. "And I'll remind you every day of it."

"Lucifer," you whined quietly.

He pulled away to look at you again.

"You... can have all of me," you whispered.

"Are you sure?"

"I'd like to try," you replied.

*He pulled your hips forward, your knees now on either side of his hips, and gently he pushed you onto your back. His hands found yours, bringing them up to rest on either side of your head and interlacing his fingers with yours. Your lips met with his again, this time a bit more feverish and needy. Both your bodies began to rub and grind against one another, feeling your mutual heats rising.

Abandoning your hands, he sat up, putting your legs on his shoulders as he slipped your panties off. He carefully laid your legs back, nestling himself in between them. Planting kisses along your jaw and neck, he had you mewling just as he knew how to, but to you it was foreign, yet there was no denying everything he did felt right, felt good.

Your hands wandered down his back, feeling more of his smooth skin and rippling muscles as he moved against you. But you merely felt teased, so you whimpered out, "Lucifer."

"Mm?" he hummed in reply.

"I need more."

"Tell me what you need, and I'll give it to you," he replied against the crook of your neck.

"I... I need you inside me," you whispered. You felt his lips upturn against your skin. "I need to feel more of you"

"With pleasure," he groaned. He shuffled his underwear off, and feeling brave you looked, to be met with the most gorgeous and large cock, and sharply inhaled.

His eyes locked with yours. "Sorry... I just... How are you so perfect?" You murmured, embarrassed.

"Mm, I do rather like hearing that," he replied lustfully. Between planting kisses on your chest, he continued, "Though, I must admit, it's you who looks like you were sculpted so magnificently, it'd make even the holiest beings weep in your presence." He did nothing to help your flushed state, nor was he going to.

His lips met yours once more. One of his arms slid under your back to hold you closer, and his other hand sought your thigh, holding it up around his hip. "Are you ready?" he asked against your lips, now his breathing was shallow, and he twitched with anticipation.

"I'm ready," you murmured.

As soon as you felt his cock prodding at your entrance, you gasped again. Though you were nervous, you were equally curious and ready to explore, wishing to feel what it was that you had felt before, what it was that bonded you to this demon above you.

Gently, he slid in, hissing at the sensation. A strangled moan left your lips, and it only drove both of you to feel even needier for one another. Instinctively, your hips bucked up, drawing more of him inside your aching walls.

"Ahh, Lucifer," you called out to him.

"I'm here, I've got you, dove," he replied, his forehead pressed against yours.

It felt like ages before he stopped moving, fully sheathed inside you. He began placing kisses and hickies along your chest and collarbone, to which your back arched into his mouth, aching for more.

"So perfect," he said to you, speaking between kisses. "So beautiful. All of you is just so delicious, and you're all mine."

Your body was set alight by his words and you gasped at how wet you felt by it.

"Mm, you do love it when I praise you," he informed you, looking up at you again. You watched in wonder.

"You're so adorable, looking at me like that. It was the same the first couple times we did this. What are you thinking?"

"You're just so... flawless and handsome, I can't believe you're mine. It's like you're exactly who I've always wanted," you replied breathlessly.

Now it was his turn for his cheeks to feel aflamed by your words, stiffening as his whole body coursed with pride. He smirked and came close to your mouth again.

"Mm, I feel the same. I've never wanted anything or anyone as badly as I've wanted you. I'll never again love someone as I have loved you."

Your arms looped around his neck, pulling him flush against you. With a slight roll of your hips, you moaned, telling him what you wanted. He smiled and kissed you sweetly. He gave a few slow, long thrusts, causing you to give breathy quiet moans. It was delicious, how his cock filled you up, and it only drove you further off the shores of reality with each graze of his cock against your clenching walls.

"Darling," he groaned. "You're so tight. You feel so good on my cock like this. Is this what you wanted?"

"It feels so good," you whined in reply, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. It was immensely pleasurable, and you wondered if it was always this good. "I was hoping my body would remember yours."

He pulled back to look at you, looking skeptical. "And?"

"It still feels brand new to me, but I trust you," you replied quietly.

Lucifer nodded and buried his face in your neck. His ministrations against your skin heightened your arousal, and your legs tightened around his, keeping him locked against you. Truly, you felt different to him as well, your maneuvers no longer the same and you moved as though you didn't know what you were doing. There was a hesitance in the way you touched him, like you didn't do this a hundred times before with him. Still, if there was any hope that you could remember, he'd hang on to it.

"Lucifer, I– oh please," you whimpered, feeling a tightening sensation in your abdomen.

"Talk to me, dove, tell me what you're feeling," he muttered to you.

"I-I feel... Oh no–" you tried to say. The tightening of your internal coil was too much, and it caused you to start squirming. He pulled away to look up at you, knowing what was happening.

"It's alright, dove, just let go. I've got you," he purred, and then lowered himself to your ear. "I'm here, you're safe with me. Just let go. Let me make you feel so good."

Your eyes flew open at his words, and a sharp gasp escaped your lips as the coils snapped. Heat traveled down your legs, your toes curled, and the crushing weight of your orgasm caused your chest to tighten.

"Lucifer!" You called out to him, squeezing his shoulders as your eyes screwed shut.

"That's it, darling, cum on me. I– oh fuck that feels good," he moaned as your walls tightened down on cock, milking him like it was the last thing you'd ever do.

"Don't stop," you cried, rocking your hips into your blissful pleasure, soaking up as much as you could of how amazing it felt.

Unable to hold back anymore, he railed into you, speeding up his thrusts to chase his own bliss as he watched you come undone beneath him. Your mindless screams of pleasure filled the room, and it drove him well-past the point of no return.

"MC," he grunted, holding onto you tightly as he gave a last few haphazard thrusts into you before stilling, tensing up as he filled you to the brim with all of him.

It was quiet again, the sounds of your panting the only noise either of you heard. After a couple moments, Lucifer pushed himself up to look at you.

*"Are you alright?" He asked softly.

Through exhausted, half-lidded eyes, you nodded. "I'm-I'm fine."

He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your forehead before withdrawing from you and lying beside you, on his side to face you. You rolled over and started to reach out but hesitated.

"What?" He asked.

"I feel like I want to... cuddle with you?" You said in more of a question than a statement.

Lucifer chuckled. "That hasn't changed at least. Come here," he said. pulling you into his body. With some confidence, you curled up into his form, snuggling your head into his chest. He kissed the top of your head and relaxed.

"I missed this," Lucifer muttered to himself.

It was hard, in a way, for Lucifer. You were you, there wasn't a doubt about it, but there was something to be said for how conflicted he felt about you in this moment. You two had been through so much in your time together, and in an instant, it was all gone, and just hours ago you were shouting at him, terrified that he was going to hurt you.

I will fix this, he thought to himself. I refuse for you to never remember everything we've been through. Tears pricked his eyes, at the thought you'd never remember him proposing to you, or when you accepted him back into your life, or the first time he told you he loved you. There were too many other important life moments you needed to know about, because at the end of it all, our memories are all we have. Without our memories, without knowing our gains are losses, what are we? Shells of animals that only live to survive? Our memories give us so much, and without them, how are we to know we lived a full life?

---

Thanks for reading! <3

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and comments appreciated.

Tags: @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @itsmeninerz @themythicaldisaster @flemmingbamse @marvelous-maniac @dajitm @bontensbabygirl @obeymediasimp @frozengoldie

[kit-williams]

First Kiss

Male Lead(s): Ghosk, Tyberos, Raven Guard Trio, Tulio, Harram Female Lead(s): Rabbit, Ophelia, Dove, Psychi, Orichalcum Universe/AU: Warhammer 40k/Yandere Space Marine Canon Status: ??? Depends on the boy

note: Tyberos & Harram aren't exactly fluffy (Ghosk is questionable fluff) BUT YA'LL PICKED THE MOST QUESTIONABLE MEN FOR KISSES

Ghosk Ghosk looked down at her in his nest... fast asleep as his black eyes looked over her as he crawled over her just hovering above her like some sort of twisted spider. In the pitch blackness of the room he could see her in the darkness. "Rabbit." He whispered to her watching her eyes flutter open as his wings also encased around her as well... truly blocking out any light that could reach her.

"Ghosk?" She whispers out before holding her breath just feeling the much larger face hover right over hers.

He can hear her heart pounding hard in her chest as he snapped his jaws near her ears... he couldn't help but continue to terrorize her... she spoke so casually... he could punish her... he watched her flinch and her breath quicken.

"Ghosk." She whimpered with her voice so small... his tongue pushing against her skin as she let tears roll down her cheeks. "Please... you win."

He was a vile monster of a man... a heinous creature that practically lived off of fear and torment... but he got no sick satisfaction out of making her cower in fear... no delight in this torment. He sighed pressing his forehead to hers, "I'm sorry Rabbit." He hummed as he gave a cruel smile, "You still don't make me feel any joy in bringing you fear." He pulled away... his hands cupped her face using his thumbs to brush away his saliva and her tears... he was a coward... a cruel creature... he stared at her lips. He watched her face as she closed her eyes and relaxed in his grip... leaned into his touch.

He was a coward to not let her see his face... to see the uncertain look in his eyes or the tender smile... to let her see what affection he held for his rabbit... his bunny rabbit. He was such a coward... as his mouth pressed to hers. His clawed hands laced into her hair as he kissed her. And to his surprise... she kissed him back.

Tyberos Tyberos knew she was tired... she was sore from his affections... he was a brute and he knew it but it was something he couldn't help. She had cried out those hot tears of pain and betrayal when he confronted her with the truth that she had been handed over to his chapter. He hardly felt like an angel of the Emperor... he was a creature of the void. He was the Void Father for a reason... he made the hard choices and no amount of whispered apologies would return Ophelia to her ignorant life... he knew that.

They could have done it a different way... gotten her to give up her precious biology another way and far more willing... but Tyberos was tried. In a sense he was tired of swimming alone... even if she reluctantly swam with him... she was there and smelt like a blissfully ignorant planet... she smelt like naivety... she smelt like what they were suppose to be protecting. She was something that he wasn't suppose to have.

His maw refused to release it's bite upon the creature from the land lost in the middle of the ocean. He knows he doesn't deserve to gorge upon the flesh in front of him but he cant stop. No amount of whispered apologies will undo what he's done... what bites he's left on her flesh... what marks are his that will fade in time... if given the chance... he cant unhear those pleading shrieks of both fear and delight ripping from her throat like a drowning beast.

He sulked in the moment as he looked at her... his shame... his sin... the person who made something in his brain itch aberrantly. He licked her skin clean of her sweat... pressing his tongue against her cheeks... he pauses feeling her swipe her tongue against his and he pulls back before he feels her small hands pull her body back to his. Her lips pressing into the unruined portion of his as she whimpers and begs for some modicum of affection and in the dark of the void he gives he cannot stop himself from giving... and giving... and giving... till there was nothing more of himself to give.

Sor/Kazi/Moremo Kazi is the first to get a kiss from their Dove... it's not very hard especially after her man leaves... leaving her alone with them... he couldn't stop himself at first... stealing pecks and kissing her cheek till he caught her smiling so happily up at him with such hope in her eyes! Kazi couldn't stop himself from picking her up as she laughed in joy and then the tension between them broke. Oh yes Kazi got tongue that first kiss with Dove... he would have loved to have more.

Moremo steals his kiss from Dove early one morning as she tried to make him breakfast... but her skills weren't exactly in cooking. But she clearly had felt guilty over letting Kazi kiss her first and so she tries to make him food to the best of her ability but the way he just looks her down... just has that way over her... she can't help but get on the tips of her toes and give him a gentle kiss.

Sor is the last one to get the kiss from their shared darling... after her brushing so close to death she clings to him so fearfully. How heavy her tears are as she looks up to him for protection and comfort and how Sor gives it so easily. How eager their lips crashed into each other and he had to hold himself back from jumping her bones as her smell flooded his senses and he had to pull his lips away from hers leaving them both breathless. His body shivering as he watches their dove lick her lips of his saliva.

Tulio You frown as you can't figure out what to give to Tulio... he has given you so much! Gifts! Saving your life! How he tries to pry how much of your contract you have left... you can't let him buy your contract not even if he intends to free you... then you'd emotionally be indebted to him and that would just confuse you!

He is trying to figure out what is wrong with you as you were going to give him something but in your haste you had forgotten it and you didn't want to have him walk all the way back and he is chattering just his grass green eyes looking at your own so tenderly... you're confused as some of his actions feel romantic yet other times it is pure of heart and it makes you feel like a harlot.

You cup his face as he coos that nickname he has given you... and you feel your heart beat wildly in your chest as the concern on his face grows and you wonder if it's beating loud enough for him to hear. "Dearest Psychi what is-" Is all he gets out before you kiss him hard.

You feel him tense up and then his hands suddenly upon you as panic overwhelms you for a moment as you try to babble your apologies before his mouth is on yours again as you are cradled in his arms leaning fully back and you close your own eyes as you hope this will be a better make up gift for him then the small granite charm you had gotten him.

Harram He wishes he could say that his first kiss with Ori was a passionate affair... he's made sure every kiss since that first has been loving and not just out of instincts. But it was during her pleading her begging as he bedded her to help her rid of those Xenos hands.

He remembers the way her kiss seared his lips as her short nails dug into his flesh as sweat gathered between their bodies... the way she pulled her hear away to watch their repeated joining with glazed eyes and a slack jaw of pleasure... unabashed pleasure unlike that guilty pleasure she felt with the xenos.

There was no Xeno threatening Ferrum... there was no need to trick herself into feeling pleasure... it was just the two of them... and oh how backwards he has gone in this... courtship. Bedding her first then catching feelings... but perhaps he had already caught feelings the moment he saw her laying there.

Blood oozed out of a cut on her lip and their tongues danced together as they tasted iron... perhaps it was quite khornite the way he cut his own lip to smear his own blood in her mouth but she drank of it with pleasure in her eyes. She was made of iron... and Harram was hardly wrong about that.

Fluffuary Tag List: @bispecsual @the-californicationist @egrets-not-regrets @libraryshadow @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Sore Fucking Losers: Rusty Nail x f!reader

Warnings: little ooc Rusty, gore, mutilation, multiple character deaths, crying, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, mentions of rape. Read my post about the Dice Game. It has all the rules. I’ve decided to roll dice to get this written.

Minors DNI +18

Dead Dove Do Not Eat

A/N: This is probably the grossest thing I’ve written.

Masterlist

“I don’t know why you have to be such a dick all the time.” You mumble, arms crossed and brows scowling as you mess with a wrapper on the car floor with your foot.

“It’s a fucking joke. Get over yourself.” Your boyfriend says, pushing you hard into the car door. He tries to play it off as a joke with the rest of his friends in the car, it works easily on them. They don’t exactly like you.

“Yeah come on, you’re being a bitch.” Luke says, you try and ignore his remark and look out the window.

“Yeah but when isn’t she.” Shanda giggles, the rest of the car laughs along with her. Shanda says shit just to say it. You know she’s been jealous of you and Xavier being together and honestly, she could have him. You’re sure she is having him, he always jumps to her defense but never to yours.

“Gas station up ahead, gonna fill up and we can take a break.” Xavier says.

About five minutes later he parks at a gas pump, Luke, Shanda, and Riley get out and go inside the gas station, you get out once you see them inside but Xavier stops you. He grabs your upper arm and pulls you towards him. Like a parent lecturing their child, he mumbles in your ear.

“Better shut the fuck up for the rest of the trip and stop being such a bitch. You’re embarrassing the hell outta me. I’ll fuck you up if you try any of that shit again, okay?”

You nod frantically. You feel as his grip tightens in a warning before letting go.

“Sitting here acting like a damn pussy. Live a little.” You notice his eyes roll before you turn around quickly walk into the gas station. You head towards the restroom and your stomach churns as you notice only you and Shanda are in there. She smirks and you try and avoid her by going into the nearest stall.

The black haired girl is quick to grab your forearm and shove you into the restroom counter. “You’re so fucking embarrassing. Can’t wait for Xavier to break up with you. You don’t deserve him. Surprised he even chose someone like you. Fucking Virgin. You sit there in your dorm room all day, can’t even kiss a man correctly. You’re pathetic. Xavier needs something more. Guess it’s a good thing he has me.” Shanda pulls your hair. You don’t do anything about it, knowing who’s side everyone would take.

She lets go and leaves. You move into one of the stalls to use the toilet.

You wash your hands and take a breather before heading out the door.

Something feels off as you walk outside to the pumps. You look around before noticing your shit scattered all over the pavement. Your boyfriend’s car out of sight.

You blink multiple times trying to make sense of what just happened. You walk over to your stuff and gather it up so you can easily carry it to the curb. You sigh and check your phone for cell service. You’d have to call your mom, you didn’t have enough money for a plane ticket.

Nothing, you frown. You’d have to go to the next town for it.

You should’ve guessed they would’ve left you. They made fun of everything you did and everything you didn’t do. They were just straight up assholes. You pinch the bridge of your nose in embarrassment before looking up and around again. You need to find a ride into the closest town.

You see a tall man, hands shoved in his pockets walking away from his semi truck.

This is so risky.

“Sir! Excuse me!” You wave at him and walk over quickly, but nervously. He stops and looks like he’s glaring at you. You can’t see his eyes though, so you wouldn’t know. Your voice shakes. “I’m so sorry for bothering you. I uh, need a ride to the next town over. The gas station doesn’t have cell service and I need to call my mom.” You explain. The man is quiet. “I can pay you if you need-“

“No need. I’ll give you a ride, lemme get’a pack a’ smokes real quick.” He grumbles. You nod quickly and move aside to let him get into the small store. You grab your two bags and hurry to the truck.

The gears in your head turn, you’ve seen this truck before. You know it. Same state plate and truck color, the logo is all the same too.

This is the truck Xavier almost ran off the road.

“Need help with your bags, hun?” The deep voice makes you jump. You turn wide eyed and the man almost seems more menacing.

“Yes! Yes if you don’t mind!”

The man opens the truck door and grabs your bags, placing them between the passenger and driver’s seat, he then slides over and you get in after him. You slam the door shut and buckle in.

He starts the truck and heads back onto the road.

“I didn’t get your name.” You say, trying to be polite. You relax into the car seat and he answers.

“Just call me Rusty. Yours?”

You introduce yourself with a kind smile, then it turns to a frown after thinking about Xavier. “I should probably apologize for earlier.” Your hands fumble with your jacket zipper, from the corner of your eye you see Rusty tilts his head. You continue, “My boyfriend… well I guess ex boyfriend now, he almost drove you off the road. I recognized your truck. He was being real fucking stupid with his driving and I yelled at him. Him and his friends got mad at me, asked him why he had to be such a dick. Pushed me into the door of the car.” You scoff.

“Ah that was you guys? You help me find them I might teach em a thing or two.” Rusty says, you furrow your brows and look him up and down. What’s the worse that could happen?

“Yeah sure, they’re supposed to be stopping at a motel a few hours from here.”

-

“So what are we planning on doing to them?” You ask unlocking the motel room door.

“We?” Rusty steps to the side and shuts the door.

“I mean yeah we, they’re pieces of shit. I wanna help. Little bit of revenge on my part, it’ll make me feel better after already wasting two years with them.” You explain plopping down on one of the queen sized beds in the room. Rusty leans on the table and crosses his arms.

“You sure? I tell you what’s gonna happen, but you better not run, you run you’re dead.” Rusty admits, your stomach churns slightly.

“I swear I will not run, I won’t even tell anyone.” You cross your heart like a child and he chuckles.

“Gonna play some games with them. Only about an hour until my place, we’re bringing them there, playing my favorite game and that’s it.”

You furrow your brows and let out a scoff. “That’s it? You had me all scared and shit Rusty. Ain’t gotta worry ‘bout me ruining from some fucking game.” You stand up and playfully push his shoulder, you see his mouth is still resting in a frown.

“How you think we’re getting them there hun? You think they’re just gonna do as I say? Get in their car and drive there?” Rusty says darkly. Worry crosses your features, your hands tingle and you wipe the hand you pushed Rusty with up and down your jeans nervously.

“I- uh guess I didn’t think of that.” You mumble.

“I know you didn’t. S’okay, we can play two games at once to make you feel less guilty. Hate to drag you inta all a’this. You won’t be playin’ the main game. You’ll just watch.” Rusty explains.

“What’s the second game?”

“You decide that.”

-

You watch Rusty sleep, not being able to sleep yourself after given the options for the second game. Some part of you felt guilty for what would happen to your ex and his friends. But another part of you told you to suck it up cause they’d done so much worse to you.

-

“Hey, hey!”

You bolt up and pant, looking around frantically.

Rusty’s hand holds your shoulder in an almost comforting way.

“Why don’t you go ahead and wait in the truck for me, yeah? Don’t gotta help.”

You look at him with tired eyes and nod, yawning and stretching you get up and pull your shoes on shuffling towards the door.

-

You stare at the four people passed out in the back, hands tied and mouths gagged. It won’t be long before you’re back. You smirk and decide to get more sleep.

-

You sit in a barn, off to the side from the table Xavier and his friends sit at. They’re all slowly waking up. As soon as they realize they’re not where they’re supposed to be they panic.

They look like fish out of water. You try not to laugh. Your hands are loosely tied in front. This is your game, makes you feel less guilty. Rusty promised you wouldn’t ever play his game and he kept his promise with loose rope and observing away from the table. The chair sits so you can see everyone.

Rusty comes in about a half an hour later. Snot is running down Xavier’s nose as he cries.

“What do you want with US?” Your ex’s voice cracks as he lets out a nasty sob.

“You like to play games?” Rusty mumbles.

“W-hat?”

“I said, YOU LIKE TO PLAY GAMES?” Rusty’s voice booms, it startles you a bit. Your stomach rolls. Shanda let’s put a whine.

“I- fuck I guess?!” Xavier whimpers.

“You guess?! You fucking guess?! Weren’t you the one seeing if you could knock me off the road?” The broad man grabs Xavier’s chin.

“No! No! That was, ugh.” You see Rusty’s finger tips go white as he grips the younger man’s face harder. “It was her! She’s the one who gave the idea!” Xavier points towards you and you scowl. The rest of them nod and your chest tightens your teeth bare back in defense.

“Mm, just don’t think that’s true. But we’ll let God decide whether you’re a liar or not. Through my favorite game. Whatever you roll the person across from you gets.” Rusty pulls a pair of dice out of his pocket. “Roll pretty boy.” He says throwing them towards Xavier.

“Well what about her?” Luke asks.

“Occupied, already have her playing a game.”

Xavier hesitantly grabs the die as he watches Rusty. His hands visibly shake as he rolls.

Eight.

Rusty walks to a shelf next to you and smirks. “Ear.” He grabs a razor and walks over to the person across from Xavier, Luke.

Luke whimpers. “Please! You don’t have to do this! We- we’re sorry! You can let us go and we’ll forget all about this! Won’t even contact the police!” Luke gags, his cries make Rusty laugh. Your stomach churns. This really is your reality. You’re going to watch your exe’s friends get tortured and possibly die.

Rusty shows the blade in Luke’s face and turns it. His cries turn into hysterical sobs, Rusty cuts down his ear, and blood flows out, everyone around the table gags and sobs trying to turn away until it’s done.

Rusty slams the ear on the table and moves the die to Riley.

Nine. Freedom.

“Lucky, lucky.” Rusty’s voice rumbles. “Got some decisions to make here girl.” Everyone looks at Shanda. “You got a minute to untie all your friends and run or you can just save yourself.” Rusty goes behind Shanda’s chair and begins untying her. “Times a ticking though.”

Shanda is untangled from her chair and gets up, looking around frantically she makes a run for the barn doors. Her friends cry out for her but she ignores them. Rusty watches his watch for 60 seconds. When time is up he grabs a shotgun then moves the die to Luke. He’s barely conscious. “Roll, I wanna see what I’m lookin’ forward to when I get back.”

Luke lazily takes the die and rolls. Ten. Eye. Rusty nods and makes his way out the same barn doors Shanda was running from.

It isn’t long until a gunshot is heard and Rusty is dragging a dead woman back inside. He goes over to a shelf and grabs a melon baller. You cringe at the feeling going through your body.

Xavier sobs. “No, no please! Please! Baby! Do something about this please! Don’t you love me? Don’t you care?” Xavier looks at you in the eyes and you scoff, so sick of his bullshit.

“Why should I give a fuck? You never gave a fuck about me, never defended me. You never broke it off with me and threatened me when I tried to! You just wanted control! Now you don’t have it and you’re a fucking pussy! Trying to say how sorry you are. You aren’t sorry, you never will be. Fuck if I care what happens to you!”

Your hands slip through the restraints and you get up grabbing a fistful of Xavier’s shirt. “You gonna keep spewing lies Xavier? Always are, talking about I’m a virgin and shit! Ain’t even gonna tell any of them how you forced yourself on me MULTIPLE godamn times! Fuck you!” You grab the dice and roll. “You get this too. Four for Chest.” You laugh.

“Go ahead Rusty. I’ll be in the house.” You say beginning to walk out of the barn.

-

Rusty comes in hours later, his shirt, pants, and jean jacket are stained. You get up and walk over to him.

“They ain’t bothering’ you no more.”

“Good, Rusty?”

He looks down at you.

“Is it okay if I stay with you for awhile? I’ll call my mom about Xavier leaving me and just say I found a Bed and Breakfast to stay at and vacation in for a few weeks. Then I’ll head back home. I’m just- not ready yet I guess, I need time to process everything.” You explain, your body tenses up waiting for Rusty to answer.

“Sure. You stay as long as you need to. You swear on your life you ain’t tell in’ no one?”

“I swear. You can drag me down with you. Thank you so much. This isn’t a common occurrence though is it?” You ask genuinely.

“I try to not bring my issues back home. That’s all I’ll tell you.”

“Just don’t wanna get caught up in more shit.”

“Of course.”

[credince--writes]

mor·tal·i·ty Chapter 1

Masterlist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!OC x John "Soap" MacTavish

Description:

TF141 has been disbanded, and they have returned to civilian life, forming a PMC company focused on logistical consulting of the operations they once preformed. John MacTavish never truly recovered from the accident, and never let Simon back in to pick up the pieces that were left. Camile Ford had never been one to bend the whims of morals, never stepping to close to dance with the fire of her own mortality. But divinity calls her name, and she's never been one to ignore the higher powers calling her name.

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Johnny never really recovered from that last mission. Enough was evident by the time they’d been dispersed back to their homes, respectively. Two weeks of no contact had been enough to warrant Simon breaking into his flat with a credit card and the meat of his shoulder- opening the door to a studio flat that smelled like old beer and piss.

He dosen’t remember what happened, exactly. But he does know it was enough for Simon to force him into the back of his car, stuff a duffel bag full of his dirty laundry scattered around the floor. One framed photo that’d long since been knocked off the wall in a fit of rage, shattered on the floor. He can only imagine the infuriating look of pity and disgust displayed on Simon’s face as he entered the room, finding him rotting on a mattress Johnny hadn’t dared to even put a fitted sheet on. He was a bad dog. He didn’t deserve the comfort of civilian life. He needed to be muzzled, and locked in a kennel.

He needed to be left to rot, to pick the flesh off of his bones and weep.

Beg for forgiveness.

They had all left the service, after that last mission. It hadn’t been all at the same time- but it had been staggered closely enough that he wasn’t able to hide from the faces of his previous teammates nearly long enough. Truly hadn’t even scratched the surface of his grief before he was being wrestled out of bed, kicking, screaming, biting and snarling trying to solicit any reaction from his lieutenant. He wanted to be met with retaliation, anger, spite. He wanted to be punished. He wanted to have the pain he craved inflicted upon him.

He was met with love.

He despised it.

Every time he fought back, every time he bared his teeth trying to lash out with any kind of hurt he could think  to warrant a reaction- he was met with nothing but softened brown eyes and a tone of forgiveness. I know how hard this is for you Johnny, and I won’t let you go through this alone. I love you.

Seven months into their broken, codependent and avoidant, hate and love, thing. Simon’s phone rang while Johnny sat at the island of their shared apartment, staring intently at the cup of steaming liquid in front of him. The side glance Simon had given him as he stepped out of the room panged someone deep at his pride- the adults were talking, obviously Simon couldn’t risk him being within earshot. Laswell calling in a favor, exchanging into something more of an opportunity to fill a needed void- one they had probably contributed too.

He’d found out, not much later that Laswell had set Price up in a fancy little office. Fit the big ol’ mustache into a suit, shined shoes and combed hair to create some type of consulting security company out of the states. What that really meant was- a front for a deep rooted PMC system that trained, or consulted to whatever Laswells file dictated. Much more separated from the boots in the sand, blood dripping down skin approach Simon had been used to in the past- however he’d found solace in the pen against paper. Fingers tapping against keys, assistants, meetings, some type of purpose in life that hadn’t directly come from the value of him, personally, at least, dragging a knife through the cartilage and arteries of his victims throat.

It was at this point Johnny had simply swayed between not caring about anything- and violent bouts for independence from the smothering weight of it’s ok, and i’ll love you regardless of the words you don’t mean.

He very much means them, and he puts every ounce of willpower into throwing as much bile against the man. Somewhere between realizing that he truly had let himself go- and Simon’s surprising ability to overpower him just by grabbing him by the back of the neck and pinning him to any surface to get him to stop from his own self destructive tendencies, did he realize how he could hurt the man- and make it stick.

And he left.

A note, scratched out onto paper.

You can’t love what never loved you back.

[countrymusiclover]

41 - No Longer A Bastard

Part 42

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

“No! Father, please don't do this.” I screamed thrashing underneath his strong arms when he had me smashed up against the stone wall smelling of flames meaning he must have executed another Hand who he believed was against him. 

My father Aerys II had his hands on either side of my head trapping me in between the wall and his body before he began tearing parts of my dress. “You’re mother can’t be trusted anymore.  And I need another heir that you will give to me.” 

“But I’m your daughter.” I gulped trying to push him away with my hands against the front of his chest when he began shifting his clothing downward until he was yanked backwards by smaller hands. 

“Get your hands off of her, Aerys!” 

I gasped seeing my mother holding him back away from me as best as she could since he was a lot stronger than she was. “Mother!” 

“Jaime, get her out of here now.” She didn’t speak to me and rather called to the golden knight that had come running down the hall with her.  He had been escorting her to a new room when he was paranoid that she’d hurt me so we were on the opposite sides of our own home. 

Jaime moved around where she stood gently taking a hold of my forearm, beginning to lead me away from them till I attempted to get away from him. “Mother! Wait, let go of me.  Urgh! We can’t just leave her - Jaime, help her.” 

“Vaella, I can’t.  She commanded that I look after you.  I - I can’t use my sword against my sworn King.” Jaime tightened his grip, spinning me back so his hands were holding me by my shoulders. 

I heard my father shout at her before she whimpered, getting dragged into the available chamber room. “Aerys!” 

“But he’s - he’s going to hurt her.  You’ve seen the bruising.” I felt tears falling down my face, hating to see my mother be treated by here husband that way and it made it even worse that he was also her brother who was treating her so harshly. 

Jaime touched the side of my face and I leaned into his palm. “I’m so sorry, princess.  But it’s her way of protecting you.” He noticed that the tears got heavier so he wrapped his arms around my waist bringing me against his embrace. 

“If I ever have kids I’ll never force them to marry their own siblings.  It leads to too much cruelty.” Burying my face into his armored chest holding onto him as closely as possible just heavy sobbing. 

Standing on the edge of the snowy mountain near Winterfell with my horse standing off to the side while I heard the sound of the dragons flying towards our direction.  My sister looked down at me while she dove down and landed her dragon a few steps away from me.  She slowly slides down one of her dragon's wings walking over to me. “You coming up here to fly one of my dragons, sister?” 

“Not exactly.  I’m good with just having one dragon to ride for my entire life.  But I do have something to talk with you about though.” I shake my head no with the wind blowing my white cloak around behind me. 

Daenerys clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “What do you want to talk about, Vaella?” 

“Now that we both know about who Jon Snow really is I was thinking he shouldn’t have to have a bastard title anymore.  He deserves to be part of our Targaryen family and show the world that the three of us are nothing like our father Aerys II Targaryen was.  Regardless of us coming from the bloodline of who we all called The Mad King.” 

She smiled, completely agreeing with my idea. “I think that’s a brilliant idea, sister.” 

“I’ll tell Tyrion and Missandi to gather everyone.  Sansa as well.  Then we also need to discuss the plan to remove Cersei from the throne.” I reminded her even though I knew she hadn’t forgotten about the original goal that had brought us together now that they army of the dead was gone forever. 

Once all the lords loyal to me, Jon, Sansa and my sister Daenerys began gathering into the main throne room with me standing beside my sister in the center of the room at the front of the crowd.  Jaime was standing off to the side with our four children huddled behind him seeing Jon move up to us. “Your graces, what is going on here?” 

“We have thought about it and we think it’s time you let the world know who you really are.  You are of our blood, the blood of the dragon.” Daenerys declared, causing everyone in the room who didn’t already know to gasp in utter shock. 

Lord Glover shifting his gaze directly at me. “He’s Ned Stark’s bastard, not a Targaryen one.” 

“His real father was our brother Rhaegar Targaryen and his mother was the late Lyanna Stark.  The Dragon Prince and the North She-Wolf were his parents.  And I know what you all are thinking about the rumors of Rhaegar kidnapping her except that wasn’t the truth.  He truly loved her and our brother would have given up his crown for her.” I slowly walked to the center of the room removing my sword and aiming it at Jon Snow but everyone could see in my eyes that I had no desire to hurt him.  “You named him the King in the North because you believed in him.  He united us all to face the White Walkers and Night King so this shouldn’t change how you view him now.  He is still the man you have sworn your sword to!” 

Daenerys clasped her hands together eyeing me for a second. “My sister knows quite a lot more about your values since she received a formal education of the noble houses.  But she speaks about what is the right path for us as the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms.   So Jon Snow will you kneel before your Queen and let me make you a true born lord?”

“I am truly honored your graces, but I don’t want to be a Targaryen.” Jon looked between me and my younger sister. 

Daenerys raised a brow not offended but curious. “I take no offense to your words.  But can you inform me why you don’t wish to be named a Targaryen?” 

“I wasn’t raised as one.  I was raised as a Stark.  The northern ways of life are all I’ve known and for that I wish to have the Stark name.” Jon responded resting one hand on the handle of his sword. 

“Then kneel before me, Jon.  Provide me with your sword if you please.” I slid my sword back into my holder holding out my hand for him.  He placed his blade into mine, lowering himself down on a knee directly in front of me.   Slowly moving his sword over one shoulder then the other before I declared his name change to everyone.  “All hail his lordship Jon of House Stark, first of his name, Warden of the North and claimed King in the North.  Rise, lord Stark.” 

“All hail Jon of House Stark!” Daenerys declared, causing everyone in the room to join in behind her. 

“All hail Jon of House Stark!”

Jon rose up from the stone floor bowing his head at me placing his sword back onto his hip. “Vaella, you trusted me with this great dagger.  But it doesn’t belong to me.  It belongs to the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms who brought dragons back to our lands…it belongs to you Dany.” He brushed past me till he was standing before her, holding Aegon the Conqueror's dagger out for her to take. 

“The prophecy has been passed down from King to heir for so long and none of them have figured out who it rightfully belonged to, who would figure out the Conqueror's dream of the great winter that would destroy the world of men.” Taking my sister’s hands in mine she gave me a confused look. 

She shakes her head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Vaella.” 

“You are the one the dagger belongs to.  You were a Targaryen who walked into a fire with three stones and walked out unharmed with three baby dragons.  You have fought the greatest enemy of ice , the Night King and brought them against the greatest power of fire, your dragons.  A song of Ice and Fire, it is not the Prince that was Promised.  Yet the Princess that was Promised and it is you Daenerys Targaryen.” 

Daenerys takes the dagger from Jon’s hand turning it over and back in her hand simply staring at it for a few minutes.  She locked her gaze with mine intensely holding my hand in her other one. “I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms and I will, but not alone.  You shall forever be known as the Queen who found the houses of Old Valyria and for that we shall rule side by side.” 

Looking over my shoulder at my husband he sent me a proud grin crossing the room.  Removing my hand from my sister’s he revealed the gray crown from behind his back. “What is a Queen without a crown?  My Queen, Vaella.” He gently sat the crown on my head with a grin still plastered across his face. 

“We fight for our Queens!” Jon drew out his sword, raising it up in the air. 

Daenerys raised the dagger up in the air. “We will remove Cersei Lannister and break the wheel of power that comes with her!” 

“We will take the Iron Throne without bloodshed!” I drew my sword away from my hip and up into the air seeing everyone else who had a blade followed our actions and declared the words Queens of the Seven Kingdoms. 

[niloerua-writing]

Another Tuesday Night

Pairing: Miguel x Black Cat!Fem!Reader

Summary: She got caught. Again. As per usual.

Warnings: Suggestive.

WC: 640

A/n: can you tell that I really like this dynamic lol? making black cat and miguel content is like cooking up a thanksgiving dinner may or may not be associated with Vagabond for reference uses

Anything that sparkled, she’d most likely take. So when it was reported that an important stone was missing in one of the highly secured labs, Miguel knew exactly who it was that took it. Needless to say, she wouldn’t even deny it either.

“I know you have it, gatita.”

Black Cat wasn’t speaking for some reason, her eyes only looking up at Miguel’s red glower as she dangled from her webbed restraints. The webs were wrapped tightly around her arms and torso, her feet barely reaching the concrete floor. Miguel’s eyes glowed with intensity as they narrowed. This isn’t normal for her in comparison to the other times he’d caught her stealing. She would whine about how pretty it looked, how it called for her, how she deserved it. Then, when reinforced that stealing is wrong, she’d grin. Miguel’s anger didn’t seem to phase her at all, it actually emboldened her. There were several instances where he got clawed when he got too close.

“So you’re not going to say anything to me now?” She caught sight of his fangs when he growled- the anger was simmering.

Miguel shifted his attention from her eyes to her glossy lips; the shade would usually change for almost every encounter. He would recall how she’d smirk or stick her tongue out whenever he had failed to catch her or when she would run off into the shadows. Miguel stepped closer, the gap between them nearly closing in. It was impressive how she kept a calm face.

“(Y/n). I’m not going to ask again.” His voice lowered, and up close, he could see her brows furrow. Her lips began to purse inward, the corners of which began to quiver. Miguel could tell she was tensing up: her shoulders stiffened, her chest heaving, and her legs being squeezed together.

“Open your mouth.” He demanded. Her face paled, and Miguel knew from her widened eyes that she got caught. And of course, it would take more than a command to get her to do as he says.

Miguel placed his hand on her jaw, his fingers pressing into her soft, flushing cheeks. He began to slowly add pressure, and after a moment of her whimpering, her mouth was open. A crystalline prism was snug on her tongue, and her breaths were becoming noticeably jagged the more Miguel stared at her pathetic expression. He was almost enjoying this.

As soon as he realized what it was he really came for, he carefully picked up the gem in her mouth, stepping away from the Black Cat.

“What am I ever going to do with you?” He turned his back on her, sighing as he shook his head. The sound of a snap and a heel click prompted the man to turn around again, only to see her standing freely atop his torn webbing, large steel claws retracting back to their normal size.

“I don’t know,” Black Cat gave a stretch, the flex accentuating her curves under the fringe decorated catsuit. “Maybe take me to dinner first and give me a gift before cutting right into the chase for once? I’ll be nicer that way.”

Miguel frowned.

“You’re the worst date I’ve had since I’ve met you.” She sashayed right past Miguel, her arm brushing against his. There was an animalistic urge beginning to wake within him.

Black Cat smirked, her grappling hook whirring out of her gauntlet and gripping onto one of the pipes overhead. Before Miguel could reach for her, she was pulled away, landing atop a window ledge.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back.” She beckoned her claws at him and giggled. “Spiders are my favorite things to play with anyway.”

As soon as she dove out of the window, Miguel looked at the gem he picked out from her tiny mouth. His fingers had traces of the lipstick she wore.

He won’t let her go that easy next time.