#If only so that I can sleep on it and re-read it with a fresh mind tomorrow

[lennsart]

How the writing of the next chapter of 'A cave like a net' is going, you ask ?

Every time I scratched what I was doing and rewrote it entirely, I left myself a little word of encouragement in my writing doc :

I think I'm on the right track with this last one :D

[lustlovehart]

Oh my gods, I was eating the sick!reader piece UPPPPP. 😩 Already re-read it like 5 times. Especially the Diasomnia part had me so good. Silver is the real MVP here.

Do you think you'd ever be willing to write about what'd happen if we didn't recover from an illness and specifically Lilia & Malleus got their way? I find their dynamic as yanderes always super interesting.

Ahh i’m so happy you liked it <33!!! Silver is basically your prince charming and it’s adorable!! Diasmonia was wayy longer than the other parts because the situation I decided on them was the most entertaining! Everyone else only thinking about turning you… They’re the ones who actually act on their thoughts (unfortunately).

(shh, he actually felt extremely guilty letting them do their thing, because no matter how hard he tries, he feels the same desire of you becoming one of them as well… the only thing that stops him is the fact you’ll be miserable, and he doesn’t know how he could live with that </3)

Pairing: [Monster!Twst] Diasmonia x Reader

Cw: You’re turned into a monster (Up to you what kind of monster, but there are scales and claws), Obsession, Craving Human, Kisses, Implied human eating (not a lot), It’s not said in the text but Malleus regenerates so he doesn’t lose a limb, Silver and Sebeks parts are kinda angsty

In the case you fall for your illness, they’re plans succeed, and you fall into a deep slumber. The last thing you see before your eyes shut, you see Silver, an apologetic frown looking at you as he mouths a silent ‘i’m sorry’. It’s enough to tug at your heartstrings, but the sight behind him immediately cuts any form of forgiveness you have.

Malleus’s cold-clawed fingers tracing up your arm, a soft smile on his face as his nail traces a pattern on your palm, Lilia playing with the bracelets gifted to you by the others on the table, and Sebek staring through the castles window, glowing eyes lighting the dark from his swamp.

“It will be over soon, Child of Hunters.”

…

The moment you jolt awake it feels as if you were forcibly taken from the afterlife, a feint memory of Idia desperately trying to pull you back into his arms before being dragged away. Your head is essentially a living furnace, flares happening every other moment leading to an excruciating headache. Despite the tremble in your hands, you reach up to soothe the thrumming, your fingertips coming into contact with skin.

But, rather than human, you feel pin sharp nails poke at your forehead.

You didn’t notice, not at all, with the blur in your vision it was practically impossible to see, but now with the newfound clearing in your sight you see it. Claws emerge from where your cuticles once rested, scales crawling up your skin. You throw the covers off your bed, the sleep wear concealing your horrific monstrous traits beneath the fabric, but it does nothing to rid the fear of what’s under your clothes.

“Mal… Malleus—!” your words are hoarse when you yell, a sign of your voice being unused for… you have no idea, but you know it’s a long time. “Damnit…! Malleus where are—?!” Your next step has you colliding with a stiff material, arms wrapping around you in an attempt of comfort. A fist is raised towards this entity, prepared to break wretched stone. “What the hell did you do to me Mal?!”

“… I’m so sorry.” the softness in his voice is different from the gargoyles, leading you to drop your hand, the only part of yourself you rest on him is your head, Silvers tough muscle tensing before gradually relaxing.

“… No you’re not.” your fresh fangs bite into your lip, your claws reaching into his bicep and burying them self into the dreameaters skin.

Silver hesitates for a moment, before speaking again, “I really am”. His previous pause has you doubt him, but the way he tightens his arms around you tells you he’s being entirely truthful, unfortunately.

You can feel a sting in your eyes, a familiar feeling of tears ready to burst, yet it’s like your tear ducts burned away with your humanity. But that’s not the thing that disturbs you in this moment, no…

It’s the way your stomach is desperate for food. A food you never wished to eat,

“It seems you’re in desperate need for food, yes?” the voice you were looking for emerges from behind you, a stone hand dragging your sleepwear down your shoulder, placing a hard kiss against your scaly skin. You’re quick to slap Malleus away, your claws cutting a strand of his mossy hair.

“Oh, be careful new one, it would do no good to hurt your potential supplier~” another equally disliked voice enters the fray, Lilia floating right next to you.

“Like hell i’m eating human…!”

“I wouldn’t advise not doing it, you’ll die a more painful death than you did a few years ago.” Malleus interjects, his pleasant smile falling into a much more serious frown.

“That’s better than becoming one of you bastards—” You pause your spiel, your legs buckling at his words, a great shock that has you falling into Lilias's arms, and not even fighting back. “… years?” Lilia's hand pets your head, a pathetic attempt at soothing you that only furthers your despair. “You’re joking… But, everyone else… Everyone else…!” you throw yourself back up, pushing Malleus against the wall, a hard clash sounding at stone hitting stone. “What the hell happened to them?! The monsters… Jack… Neige…!” your eyes burn like you’re crying, but you know you’re not. You hiccup before dropping to the floor, the last name that leaves your lips causing your last shred of sanity to snap. “… Rollo.”

For a moment, Malleus’s eyes glare at you, but they’re quick to disappear when he falls to his knees.

You despise it, you despise how even in your current panic, all you can think about is consuming. You grit your teeth, resisting all desire, but the sound of wind has you knowing something will happen, something that will test your patience. Your eyes are closed when Lilia’s hand takes yours, placing a kiss on your wrist before leaving you with his words of departure. “Do try to not eat all of Malleus, new beastie.”

You can’t question him before his presence disappears, but before you know it, when your eyes reopen, you don’t see stone, only pure human. “Malleus… What are you…?” He lifts his arm to your mouth, your lips attaching to his skin while his forehead rests on yours, looking right into your eyes. You can feel your canines put pressure on him.

“You’re what you are now because my affection for you runs so deep…” his free arm reaches behind you, pushing your head into his limb, “that I will do anything for you to stay alive, and here, together.” his voice is low, your jaw trembling with the urge to eat. But his words gnaw into your soul.

… Is this really living to him?

…

You rest your head on Lilia’s shoulder, his deep voice humming as he wipes your mouth clean. “Did you enjoy it?” your silence tells him not to inquire further, but in truth, you hate the fact… that you did enjoy it. “Hm, well, if you’re not satisfied with just Malleus…” his clawed finger taps your lips, red eyes piercing your soul, “I’ll always offer myself up for you too~”

He laughs at the way you glare at his joke, only continuing to rest yourself on his shoulder.

You stare deep into the swamp as Lilia continues to hum, hoping he will emerge. And he does, but he’s quick to disappear just as quickly as he appeared.

“Why did you want this for me…?” your ask has him pause, his finger pushing your head up and off his shoulder. “I just wanted…” you pause, Lilia patiently waiting for the rest of your sentence, yet there’s nothing more to be said. His thumb swipes across you bottom lift, showing you all signs of you feast had been wiped clean.

“Everyone wants something, whether it be human or immortal.” you bury yourself in your arms, the moon reflective on the mystery creature's pale exterior. “And you want to know why it is I wished for this?” he uses his hand to signal at your body, his smile disappearing, an all too serious expression painted on his features. He leans into your face, a few centimeters stopping him from being directly on your skin.

For a moment, a single second, it’s like his scarlet eyes share every single moment of greed and cruelty in his hundreds of years alive, even moments from before his improved personality. A cruel beast who’s a monster just for the sake of being one… It’s gone in that same second.

“Because you’re so adorable!”

“…Go away Lilia.”

“You’re hurting my feelings… And I thought you wanted a bite of me.” you glare at him again but this time he doesn’t laugh, only smiles, “You’ll learn how mucher crueler the world is as a human… We only wish to protect you.” and with that, he’s gone, leaving you and the creature of the swamp alone.

…

“Sebek?” you dip your hand into the water, splashing the liquid up. But to no avail, he doesn't appear, a different monster answering your calling.

“I don’t know if he wants to see you.” you turn around to see Silver, his eyes looking into yours, but you can tell how hard he’s trying to avoid looking at your new monstrous traits. You can’t fault him though, the sight of your replaced eyes in the water sends chills up your spine.

“It’s not like i’m the one who asked for this…” you throw a stick in the water, hoping maybe it’ll darth through the marsh and poke the beast underneath.

“I— He knows…”

“Great! So what’s his problem?” Silver doesn't reply, but to be fair, you don’t think he knows the answer either. “… He left me flowers while I was dying.”

“He did?” Silver sits next to you, he eyes focused on your rather than the ripples you trace into the water with your claw.

“Mhm. I never saw him do it though.” you can see Silver’s reflection staring at you, but you can’t bear to look back, only continuing to draw on the surface.

“That’s… Nice.” he watches you stop, the waves halting as well, the silence that hangs in the air suffocating. You grit your teeth, turning your head but not looking him in the eyes, eyes that are far too kind for a monster of his caliber. You fixate on the place his heart would be if he was human.

It was meant to distract you, but it instead has you wonder, maybe Silvers's warmth would be much stronger had he had the makeup of a mortal. Such hypotheticals are better left in your head though, and you know this. It doesn’t stop you from taking his hand in yours, squeezing his limb as you force your words out.

“Did you want me to be a monster too Silver?” his stoic expression widens, hesitation evident, before his head hangs in shame when he finally tells his truth.

“I… Don’t know.” he watches you stand up, making no effort to stop you, but very obviously tensing at the prospect of you leaving. “I just… I just knew I didn’t want you to die painfully somewhere we can’t reach you…!” he’s about to jump up to meet you eye to eye, stopped by you placing a flower on his head.

“That’s something I knew would happen, something I signed up for.” you both stay still, only looking at each other. This contact is broken when Silver lets the flower fall, his head resting on your bottom half.

“I know… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t feel this way, but…” he expects you to leave when he feels you shift, but instead, relaxes when you let him continue to rest his head on your lap. All his words die in his throat, but you know what he meant to say. Truth be told though, you don’t know if you’re okay with it.

…

Your bottom half is cold as you sit in the water, staring directly at Sebek under the water.

“Can you come out? I don’t wanna risk being a non-marine based monster and drowning.”

“I don’t think so human, I don’t wan to risk— Er…!” He jolts at the mistake he made in his burgled voice, further burying himself into the water. You lean over, your hand reaching out to dunk one of his flowers beneath the surface, he quirks an eye at the action.

“You never visited me when I was dying.” your words have him furrow his brows, but he doesn’t give you a reply nor explanation. “Why is that Sebek?” a moment passes, a few moments, before he emerges from the water, his large form moving towards you on the ledge. His large arms cage you between the side of his marsh and his body, golden slit eyes staring into you.

“I did not want to see that.” His eyes move down your new form, scales, claws, canines, and all, he sees it all in his mind. “You bedridden… It’s a weak sight. It’s like you were giving in, it was cowardly.”

“Aren’t you the one who said all mortals are pathetically weak?”

“They are! You are!” Sebek pushes back, the water splashing at the outburst. “But you’re not supposed to be!” his tail swings in the water causing a wave to move towards you. “You weren’t supposed to die… You were meant to prove me wrong…” you’re about to move towards him before he stops you, a single outstretched webbed hand in your face. “But now you’re here because you proved me right… Humans are weak, pathetic… evil…” he slowly moves towards you again, wavering clear in the way he slowly places his forehead on your shoulder. “It’s why you can’t be one anymore… you can’t be any of those things...”

There are two directions I think their scheme could end, one where they successfully stop anyone else from the cast from knowing your current predicament, and one where your current state is found out by everyone else. If the latter were to happen, it doesn’t matter where their domain is, they will show up to Diasmonia and demand to see you. A vast majority will wish to have you in their care, while the ones who never wished for you to be a monster, will make sure you don’t fall into the other's hands.

[harryhighkey]

let you go

hi! - this is lowkey the last part of my frontman x reader series!!

thank you so so so much for all the love on this series I have had the best time writing it!!! I love my version of In-ho fr and I'm glad others did too!!

lowkey the last part because I'm not fully done with these characters yet but this series is done, does that make sense? lmaoo basically end of series but not end of them !!

please let me know what you think!!!!!! happy reading!!

a frontman x reader series - masterlist to series here

Waking up felt like bliss.

The bed you were sleeping on was the comfiest bed you had ever slept on, the sheets around you were so soft against your skin, the pillow your head rested on curved against your neck and skull perfectly.

You sighed at how comfortable you felt, your eyes still closed as you were still in that limbo between being asleep and awake. You couldn't remember the last time you had such a peaceful sleep. All the aches and tightness that had gathered up in your body over the past days had left from your rest in this bed of luxury. Did this mean that the games were over?

The games.

Your eyes sprung open at that thought, suddenly you were snapped wide awake.

Your surroundings were unfamiliar, the room all black and sleek. You sat up in the bed, the sheets falling from your body at the movement. That's when you realised you were out of your Player 183 outfit. The blood stained green and white outfit had been replaced for a clean black shirt that had a baggy fit on you. You pushed the sheets from you further and saw that black sweat pants dressed your bottom half. They also looked baggy but the drawstring had been done up tight to keep them on you.

Just as you were wondering who had dressed you, you then noticed the clothes weren't the only clean thing. You yourself realised how you felt so clean and fresh. The slightest smell of soap still lingering on your skin.

Who bathed me?

The relaxed state you had been in while waking up was quickly changing. Your breath quickened as you started to panic, you had no idea if you were still in danger or not.

In a rush, you jumped up from the bed and went to the door. You were terrified as your hand gripped the handle, you didn't turn it yet, you had no idea what was on the other side. What if another sick game was waiting for you? You pressed your ear against the door, it was silent. You took in a deep breath and attempted to turn the handle.

It was locked.

"Fuck." You said out loud. You tried again, but it would not budge, you were trapped in here. Once you stopped trying to turn it, you heard a noise on the other side, your heart beat faster as you leaned in again. You could hear someone walking right towards the door.

Frantically you turned back around, frightened tears filling your eyes as you looked for somewhere to hide. Your quick scan of the bedroom came up empty. You heard a key going into the door handle, you had to act fast.

The next second, you were scrambling under the bed. As the door opened you clamped your own hand over your mouth, not wanting to make a sound.

You watched black boots take a few steps into the room and shut the door once they were in. The boots walked around the bed, you kept your eyes trained on them, the only other thing you could see of this person was the ankles of the black suit pants they wore.

"You can come out now." He spoke, that same authoritative voice you had come to know so well the past few days.

Young-il?

"Come on, pretty girl. Weren't you so much more comfortable on top of the bed?"

It was definitely him, but you had no idea what was going on. Why was he dressed differently too? Why were you both in this room? How had you made it out of the fight? You were trying desperately to piece together your last memories of the fight between the players and the guards, but you were pulled back to reality by the man kneeling on the ground. You watched with wide eyes as he leant down and finally, you could see his face.

You were relieved it was him, but he looked different like this. Dressed in all black, his hair pushed back. He was the one who had been comforting you when you felt exactly like this these past few days, but right now he half looked like a stranger.

You hadn't said a word but he was gathering all he needed to know from your body language. He saw how scared you were, cowering in on yourself under his bed. Slowly, he held out his hand to you. "Let me help you out from under there." His voice came out harder than he meant it to. While you had been sleeping, he had to go back to being the Frontman, and he had to do to gain control back from the players. It had been intense. You frowned at his tone, and he knew he had to bring back the man you knew him as, the man he wanted to be for you. So he tried again, softer this time. "It's me, baby, you don't have to be scared."

Your eyes shifted from his and to his hand, remembering all the times you had held it, all the times that same hand had helped you, comforted you, guided you, lifted you, caressed you, touched you. Cautiously, you placed yours into his, your fear easing a little at the familiar feeling of his hand engulfing yours, grateful that still felt the same.

He aided in pulling you out from the under the bed, sitting you down on the side of the bed where he sat beside you, his hand never letting go of yours.

The silence between you both was deafening, you had a thousand questions going through your head, you weren't sure where to even start.

"You're safe now, you're out of the games. For good." He told you, one of your unspoken questions answered.

In-ho had become a master at reading body language, you were being guarded right now but he was concentrating on any micro expressions you might offer up. You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto a few strands of his slicked back hair that had fallen forward from when he had knelt down just then. Those strands of hair made him seem more like the man you had come to care for. He noticed you looking, he squeezed your hand in his, wanting to prompt you to talk.

"You look different." Was all you could manage to say, you slipped your hand out of his and as much as he wanted to grab it again, he let you have your space. You scooted back up to the headboard, leaning your back against it and gathering your legs to your chest as a makeshift guard.

He needed you to come back to him, to open up, to let him in again, so he tried to keep things light-hearted. "So do you." He gestured to the clothes on your body with a smile. You looked down at yourself in the black clothes that didn't belong to you.

"Who's clothes are these?"

"Mine."

"Who dressed me?"

"Me."

"Who bathed me?"

"Me." He answered your questions honestly. You snapped your gaze to his, eye contact locked with one another. Your face was screwing up, you felt exposed. Subconsciously, you wrapped your arms around yourself and pulled your legs in tighter. He could see you thinking the worst, he couldn't have you thinking of him like that. "I didn't do anything else other than wash you. I thought you would rest much better feeling fresh and clean. I would never touch or do anything like that to you without your consent." His words were serious.

He wasn't wrong, you had enjoyed a very deep sleep. That lead you to another thought. "When did I even fall asleep? I don't remember getting here." You were thinking out loud. You remember saying bye to Dae-ho. The bullets flying. Running with Player 001. Him kissing you. Him drugging you.

In-ho kept his face still as you suddenly froze. You were piecing it together, you were remembering. You were trying your hardest not to react now that it was coming back, but he was a master in unspoken human language.

"(Y/N), anything I did was to take care of you-"

"Stop." You cut him off, lifting one of your hands and holding it in front of his face. You looked back to him, a frown etched into your face. You focused on his eyes, they were still the same. You still trusted them. Slowly, you lowered your hand. "What was in the needle?"

"Just a bit of general sedative, it was only meant to knock you out for a couple of hours."

"How long was I out?"

"11 hours."

"What?! Why was it so long? Did you give me more?!" You were instantly angered, he had to diffuse this.

"No, no. You must have been exhausted from the games, you were deep asleep. I kept checking on you to make sure you were okay. I didn't try to wake you, I figured you needed the rest."

"I've been here the whole time? In this bed?"

"Yes. Except for when I bathed you, I did that then put you to bed."

"I was completely knocked for that?"

"Yes." He continued to answer you honestly, if your constant questions was going to keep you here with him, he was glad about that, so he would continue to answer.

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Bathe me."

"I-"

"No." You cut him off again. "Show me. I need to know how you did it. Show me here what you did."

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air was so thick between you both that you were almost panting. You knew there was other things you should be asking him, he knew it too.

He shifted first, removing his heavy boots, discarding them on the floor and then moving across the bed until he was sitting beside you. His back leaning against the headboard with his legs outstretched. You kept your eyes trained on him, as he did with you.

"I was like this, but, if you want me to show you..." he looked down at the empty space in between his legs and then back to you. "I had you in front of me."

Your eyes trailed down his position on the large bed. Against your better judgement, you crawled to the spot in front of him. Once you were sat between his legs, you leant back against him. His solid chest felt familiar against your back, like you were back in your tiny bunk. He wrapped his arms around you, despite everything, his touch still comforted you so you relaxed against him.

"We were like this?"

"Yes."

Silence fell between you both as you tried to picture it. You found yourself wishing you had been conscious for it, to experience being so intimately close to him. Was that wrong? You weren't sure he was the man you thought he was anymore.

You needed to distract yourself from those thoughts. "Where are we?"

"My bedroom."

You looked around the room again, searching for clues that told you more about him, desperate to find something that showed you he was still the man you had grown close to. There was nothing super defining, the room was so minimally decorated.

Who was he?

You wouldn't find out unless you asked. But you were terrified of an answer you already knew.

"Young-il-"

He cut you off. "In-ho."

"What?"

"My name is not Young-il. It's In-ho. Hwang In-ho."

Suddenly his hold wasn't comforting, you tensed up, tears blurred your vision, you hadn't even known this man's real name. What if it all had been fake? You tried to get up but he tightened his hold around you.

"Let me go!"

"No."

"Yes!" You thrashed against him, but your strength was no match for his. At one point you had freed one of your arms but all you'd managed to grab was a pillow that just as much hit your own head as well as his when you swung it back to get him with it. Before you could grab anything else, he pinned your arm back under his in the hold he had around you. You tried arching your back but he would twist his arms further around you. restricting the space you had to move.

You tried to wiggle, squirm, kick, turn and flail out of his grip, but it was no use.

You collapsed back against him with a sigh, your chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

"Are you done?" He spoke with a clenched jaw.

"No." Stubbornly, you began tossing and turning again. In-ho's patience was wearing thin, his fingertips started to dig into your sides. However when you stopped and flinched, yelping out an "ow!" he relaxed his fingers, remembering how you had been hurt during Mingle and it was right where he was pressing into you. He saw the bruises that were painting your skin when he had you in the bath, how could he hurt you knowing they were there?

You'd found it unintentionally, his weakness. Your chance to escape was so close. "You're hurting me!" You cried out, his heart ached at the thought, he had sworn to do the opposite of hurting you, he was meant to keep you safe, unharmed.

The second you felt his hold loosen, you broke free. You didn't spare a moment before you leapt up from the bed

"(Y/N)!" In-ho reached out for you but you were already opening the door and making a run for it.

You ran through a black hallway until you were in a much larger room. You didn't stop moving as you looked for a doorway, knowing In-ho was only steps behind you. Upon spotting it, you sprinted.

"(Y/N), stop!"

"No!" You yelled back, your hands landing on the door handle but when you went to twist it, it didn't move. "No." This time your no was defeated. You were faced with another locked door. You were trapped.

You hadn't left the games at all, this was just another one, a different kind. A game where your heart was playing against your head. Your heart wanted to run right back to the man who had trapped you in this room, if he didn't care about you, you would be dead by now. But your head said to find a way out, he had lied to you, you couldn't trust him.

You turned back to In-ho, he had stopped chasing you - knowing you couldn't get out - instead he had taken a seat on the luxurious couch in the centre of the room. His eyes locked onto yours as he took a sip of the dark liquid in the glass in his hand.

You broke the eye contact first, distracted by an object that was resting on the table beside the couch. Your breath hitched in your throat as you walked closer, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you lifted it.

It was a mask, all black, you could see a distorted looking face made out of geometric shapes within it.

"Do you like it?" In-ho dared to ask, seeing you hold it in one hand while your other traced the lines along it.

You looked back to him then. "Let me out, In-ho." You said his name with distaste.

He shouldn't have but he smiled, he liked hearing you finally say his name even if it was said with spite.

Your temper was reaching it's boiling point and acting on an impulse, you brought the mask up and threw it right at his face with all of your strength. His reflexes were quick though, he brought his hands up in front of his face to block the impact. The mask smashed the glass that was still in his hand. Pieces of it went flying, one of which was right to his face, leaving a cut to his cheek.

As he lowered his hands from his face, it was his temper that had reached a boiling point now. You stepped back as he stood up, you were terrified of what he would do. He noticed and it annoyed him more.

"Stupid girl," he started with an insult, "you should know by now that I won't hurt you." His voice was laced with anger. "The taking of your life would have been an easy one. Instead, I chose to keep you alive, which proved to be a much harder task." He brought his hand up to his own face to apply pressure to the cut, blood beginning to pool and threatening to spill down his skin. "It seems I can't have the same trust in you, though." In-ho was a master manipulator, he wanted his words to make you feel guilty.

It worked.

Before you could say anything, he picked up his mask and took quick steps to the door, using a key to unlock it.

"Wait!" You yelled as he opened it and stepped out, you tried to hurry over to it before it was closed, but you weren't quick enough. The door was locked again.

-----

You didn't know how much time had passed since In-ho had left. You just knew it had been a long time and you had gone through a range of emotions.

First it was anger, you pounded on the door, screaming at the top of your lungs, throwing things around. Next came claustrophobia, sure the area of this apartment was large but you were locked in here. That lead to the hyper alertness, familiarising yourself with every inch of this space. You'd found certain things that told you more about him, - In-ho - you'd said his name out loud again and again, getting used to saying it in place of Young-il. Fear filled you when the door opened and guards walked in, but they didn't say a word as they brought in food and drinks on a bar cart for you then quickly exited. Seeing the guards confirmed you were still somewhere close to where the games were taking place, that lead to you feeling concerned for the people you'd grown closer to in there. Were they still alive? Were the games still taking place?

The games. The all too familiar panic surged through you as the haunting memories you had experienced filled your mind, all of the terror, the sounds of gun shots, the hundreds of dead bodies, the blood, death, death, death.

You lost the ability to take in a complete breath, each time you attempted to do so it would only make your airflow more uneven. You tried putting your own hand against your chest, the same way Player 001 had done when he calmed you down from feeling this way. Your trembling hand didn't have the same magic touch.

What you didn't know is that In-ho had been keeping an eye on you from the cameras hidden so up high you didn't spot them. He was busy keeping an eye on the contestants now that he had officially resumed his role as Frontman, but he was never so busy that he couldn't watch over you, as well.

He'd observed you going through each emotion over the past several hours. This was the worst one for him to see because of the guilt that consumed him. In-ho as the Frontman kept these games going, the games that had done this to you. His own trauma from his own experience of being a contestant had turned him into the Frontman, he couldn't let yours turn you evil, he had to keep you good. You were his last shred of hope.

-----

You hid yourself away in the bed, you cacooned yourself in the luxury sheets and blankets, you weren't even that cold, you just wanted to shield yourself with something. Much like a young child who was experiencing a loud storm for the first time. Tears spilled down your cheeks, whimpers sounded out, your body shivered, you weren't sure how you ever going to get used to dealing with the terror you had experienced.

You were facing the doorway when In-ho walked in. Scared eyes meeting concerned ones. You knew it was wrong but you were so relieved to see him. He knew that was wrong too.

For tonight, you both would ignore that fact. "Please hold me." You cried out and it was his turn to feel relief. All he wanted to do was hold you and comfort you, but he needed you to let him in first.

Once he joined you in the bed, his arms came around you to pull you against him and you tangled your legs with his.

"Deep breaths, remember?" In-ho told you, moving his hand to your chest and holding his open hand against it to soothe you. You listened and with your eyes locked on his, you tried to take a full one in, the air got hitched in your throat more than a few times. "Again." In-ho commanded, nodding with each breath you took until they finally evened out.

Laying there with your heads on the same pillow, this felt like the man you had known, but he was different now.

"Was Young-il real?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

In-ho didn't know how to answer. It was an act to begin with, but his feelings for you were the most true thing he had felt in a long time. "Yes and no." You frowned slightly and averted your gaze from his and he felt you make the slightest shift away from him. "Everything between us was real."

You sighed and then silence fell between you both. You were still having that internal battle in your mind of if you could accept all of him now. What you didn't know is that In-ho had been having his own internal battle and he'd made the decision for you.

"I'm going to let you go, let you leave." He announced. Witnessing you still experiencing the affects of the games even though you were out and safe, he knew you needed to not be around any reminders of it at all if you were to properly heal. Him included. He knew the risk of this, that you could go out and report what had happened, but that had happened before, barely anyone got taken seriously. He was willing to take that risk for the sake of your mental wellbeing.

"What?"

"In the morning, you'll leave. I'll arrange it for you, you'll get home safely. Your debts have already been taken care of. You'll be completely free of anything that happened here, I promise you."

You were in shock, some sort of relief washed over you, but you were indifferent to it. You were hearing what he wasn't saying.

"I won't see you again?"

"No."

You couldn't deny the pain in your heart at the thought of that.

"Leave with me?"

"I wish I could, but it's not that simple for me, baby."

The glimmer of tears appeared in both your eyes as you looked at one another, your bottom lip wobbled and In-ho's gaze shifted to it. There was something he had to do just one last time.

When he leant in to kiss to you, you clung to him. Your heart swelled at the feeling of his lips on yours. The taste of salt snuck in as a few tears fell between the kiss, you weren't sure if they were yours or In-ho's.

In-ho pulled back first, but he quickly left another chaste peck to your lips. "I have to go." He said simply, he was breaking his own heart and he knew the longer this goodbye was drawn out the worse of an affect it would have on him.

"No-" You reached out for him as he started to get up from the bed, you managed to grab one of his hands.

He turned to look at you with a sad smile, bringing your hand up to kiss it, too. "Stay in here tonight, have a good sleep, you're safe in here. A guard will knock on the door in the morning, you answer when you're ready, they'll wait for you. And then you'll be taken home."

He went to turn away but you tugged on his hand. "In-ho," how bittersweet you were finally calling him by his real name so sweetly, but he wouldn't hear it again after tonight. "Can you rub my head until I fall asleep?"

He knew he should have said no, just like he should have the first night when you asked him the same thing, then none of this would have happened. But he was greedy when it came to you, how could he deny his pretty girl this last request?

"Yes."

[thequeenofcurses]

Birthday Wishes, Cursed Kisses (f!Reader x Sukuna)

Summary: Sukuna takes you out for your birthday (sfw)

wk: 1300

(re-uploading this so I can organize it properly)

A/N Sorry I meant for this to be a short drabble, but I got carried away. It’s my first real jjk story post on here! I wrote this for @yuujispinkhair, who is someone that is super inspiring to me and her stories make me s happy. Happy Birthday to her!

Part 2 (nsfw)

10:45 pm

You checked your phone and sighed. Why did I even bother staying up this late on a Monday, you thought to yourself. Tomorrow’s just another day anyways.

You turn on one of your favorite romance audiobooks and set your phone to sleep mode.

11:59 pm

buzz buzz The vibration from your phone made you open your eyes, but exhaustion won the fight and you shut them close again. 

8:15 am

“Wake up, woman,” came a deep, sultry voice from your doorway. “Eat these while they’re fresh”.

“Huh?” you croak out, throat still dry from barely waking up. Your boyfriend Sukuna stood nearly as tall as your bedroom doorframe. “Did you warm me up leftovers or something?”

“Tch,” he rolled his eyes and walked into your room, sitting atop your bed. “You really thought I would give you leftovers, today?”

“Well, it’s just Tuesday,” you responded nonchalantly while stretching. Your hair was messy, you're missing one sock, and you even had some drool on your cheek; yet Sukuna stared at you like you were the Mona Lisa.

“Hmph,” he scoffed. “Woman, it’s your birthday. So you’re going to eat one of these cupcakes, shower, then get ready to have the best damn birthday ever.” You blink back surprised that he remembered, but butterflies fill your stomach nonetheless. You’ve only been dating the town’s local bad boy, Sukuna, for a few weeks. 

You nod and take the red velvet with dark chocolate cupcake into your hands, the confetti wrapping still warm. The aroma from the dessert filled your nose as you leaned down to take a bite. “Mhmm,” you softly moan to yourself. “This is delicious. Thank you”

“I texted you last night,” Sukuna waves off your thanks. “I wanted… to be the first person to tell you.”

As you finished the last bite of the world’s best cupcake, you gasped. You haven’t checked your phone since last night.

11:59pm, yesterday

Sukuna sent you a chat!

It’s your day, isn’t it? Don’t get used to all this attention. But since I’m feeling generous, I might grace you with my presence later. Happy birthday, brat.

Your heart skipped a beat reading his message. Speechless, you rose from your spot on the bed and jumped into his strong, warm arms. “Oh? Can’t keep your hands off me, huh?” he said with a smirk. “Guess I can’t blame you.”

“Thank you, Kuna. The cupcake was delicious.” You blushed, realizing you were still unkempt.  “I’ll go get ready now.” You walked to your bathroom and hopped into the shower.

“Wear something warm!” he shouted from the other side of the door. “You’re not getting my jacket if you get cold.”

You are dressed in a black sweater dress with dark maroon leggings, and black winter uggs. Your makeup was very natural looking, yet accentuated all of your best features. You topped the look with a golden bracelet that had an ‘S’ inside of a heart. Sukuna gave it to you when you two made your relationship official. When you come out of the bathroom, you find Sukuna sitting on your couch.

“Wow,” he said while standing up to meet you. Tch. Who are you trying to impress looking like that? “Not bad. Try not to let all this attention go to your head though.” Sukuna smirked before reaching down into his pocket. “One more thing.” He pulled out a black box, but before he could open it, it slipped out of his hand. “Shit,” he muttered. He bent down on one knee to grab it.

“Oh. Sukuna… I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you blushed sheepishly. 

“Huh?” Sukuna frowns, not immediately understanding what you mean. Oh “I’m not proposing woman. It slipped from my hands.”

You blushed once again, feeling even more awkward about the misunderstanding. “Trust me, when I propose, it’ll be very lavish and grand. I can promise you that. Here, turn around.” Sukuna opens the black box, pulling out an alluring gold necklace. The pendant was in the shape of the ‘N’N’ type symbol tattooed on Sukuna’s forehead. It was littered with diamonds and it had a red ruby in the middle. He gently pushes your hair out of the way, before placing the necklace onto you and locking it into place. “There. You look perfect. Mine” He whispered the last word in your ear.

You looked in the mirror before you left, loving the necklace. In fact, you kept touching it all day long to make sure it was there. First you two go see a movie, Red One, in a theater that was way too cold. Damn, I should’ve brought a coat. I thought this sweater would’ve been enough.

Next, you two go ice skating. Sukuna being perfect at everything he does, skated around on the ice flawlessly. You stumble and slip a few times, but Sukuna is always there to catch you. “Tch. Can’t even stay on your feet? What am I going to do with you?" he said with a shit-eating smirk. You clung to him during most of your session, but he never complained.

After your ice skating date, he takes you to get dinner, then your favorite ice cream shop. Two gingerbread scoops for you and one strawberry scoop for him. You two sit outside by the fireplace, eating your individual ice cream cones before the fire suddenly goes out.

“Shit,” you muttered, starting to shake from the cold. “I thought this sweater would be enough to keep me warm.”

"I told you to dress warm, didn’t I woman?” Sukuna scoffed, taking off his coat and draping it around you. “But no, you just had to be stubborn." You two quickly finish your ice cream and then head back to your apartment. 

The sky was a hue of oranges and a hint of pink, like his hair, as the sun was setting on your drive back home. Sukuna walked you up to your apartment door.

Your hand subconsciously returned to your neck, fiddling with the new necklace. “Thank you for the gift, Sukuna,” you said trying to hide your smile. “I didn’t expect today to be as great as it was, and it was only a great day because of you.”

“Tch. Don’t make such a big deal out of it. I only got it because I felt like it." Sukuna shook his head in denial. “Besides, I can’t take all the credit.” He walked closer to you, nearly pressing you up against your apartment door. “Your parents made one hell of a daughter.” 

Your heart fluttered at the compliment. You wanted to thank him again, but couldn’t find the right words, so you kissed him. The kiss was like snow meeting the sun. It was freezing cold outside, but his lips and his body is what kept you warm. It was passionate, yet demanding all the same.

“I hope you had a good birthday,” he said after breaking the kiss. He started to walk away before pointing at the necklace "Just don’t lose it, alright? It’s yours."

A/N I meant for this to be a short drabble my bad T....T I wanted to write a spicy scene after they got back to her apartment, but this was already getting too long. Idk if yuujispinkhair or anyone would even want to read that. Anyway, happy birthday to her and anyone else born during winter!

Part 2 (nsfw) ryomen sukuna

[bloodlineslut]

The Law of Obsession (Ch.3) | Roman Reigns

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! OC

Warnings: none

Summary: A day in Roman’s life at his law firm, including a glimpse of some of the shady business he does. Jimmy and Jey convince Roman to go out with them after mentioning Laila would be there.

Word Count: 2.7k words

A/N: okay so…it actually is the next day but yall I get distracted while trying to study so I wasted a lot of time before I finished this chapter pls don’t shoot me. Also, can you say cliffhanger at the end?? Something spicy is gonna happen in the next chapter though so don’t worry

Roman’s eyes blinked open, staring at the ceiling of his luxury condo that overlooked Miami Beach.

Every morning, he woke up at 7 am on the dot, like clockwork. His morning routine consisted of grabbing his phone to check for any missed calls or texts he may have gotten through the night. Especially any from Paul or the twins.

As usual, there were.

Paul Heyman: 2 missed calls

Paul Heyman: Chief, I apologize for the late text, but a man by the name of Sami Zayn is requesting a meeting with you tomorrow morning when you get to the office. He says he really needs your help.

Jimmy: Hey uce, I might need you to handle some business for me next week, that cool?

Jey: Aye man, we still gon’ go to that club tomorrow night?

Roman read through and responded to all the texts, shaking his head at Jey’s message. He found himself hoping for a text from a certain person, though.

Laila.

‘Last night was a school night. She probably studied herself to sleep.’ Roman chuckled at the thought.

She was such a good girl. Focused on school and working hard.

She was just what Roman needed.

A breath of fresh air.

Something good and pure that he could come home to after a dirty day at work.

Roman sat up and got out of his king size bed, not bothering to make it until later.

He goes straight to one of the bedrooms that he turned into a home gym, putting his AirPods in and going to his workout playlist. The room had a mirror that ran from one end of the room to the other, a mini fridge with ice cold water, Gatorade, and protein powder/bars.

There was every piece of workout equipment in there that you could imagine, from dumbbells to machines and everything in between.

Roman usually tried to make his workouts in the morning an hour long, so that he could shower and everything else, and still be on time for work.

After working on his back and legs, he walked back to his master bedroom to take a steamy shower and to wash his hair.

Another hour later, he was out the door and on the way to the firm.

“Good morning, Mr. Reigns! Here is your coffee, and a list of all your meetings lined up for today.” His secretary greeted him as soon as he walked through the revolving door.

Sasha Banks.

She had the biggest crush on him, but Roman never even looked at her in that way. To be honest, he was a bit oblivious to her advances because his mind was always solely focused on work.

He took the coffee and the file from her, only giving her a quick “Morning. Thank you.”

As he walked towards the elevator, his back to Sasha, her smile faded a little, wishing that he was as interested in her, as was she.

As soon as the elevator doors opened to the top floor, where Roman’s office was located, he was greeted by the sight of Paul.

“Good morning my chief! I see that you messaged me back earlier. I’ve directed Mr. Zayn to your office if that’s okay with you?”

Roman slightly scowled at having to be bothered when he just got to work. “Alright Paul. But next time, wait until I’m here.” He firmly warned his right hand man.

Paul nodded apologetically. “Yes, sir. I won’t disappoint again!”

Roman inwardly rolled his eyes, just wanting to be left alone for at least 5 minutes.

He saw that his office door was slightly ajar with a man with shoulder length messy red hair seated in the chair in front of his desk.

“Oh hello, Mr. Re-” Roman put his hand up to silence the new client.

Roman could tell that whatever this guy did can’t be that bad.

“5 minutes of no talking.” Roman told the man, just needing to settle down.

Five minutes later, as promised, they got to business.

Sami explained that he got busted for marijuana in his possession that wasn’t really his. He was with some of his friends and they got pulled over by a police officer and Sami “looked the most suspicious” so they brought him to the station and charged him.

Roman raised an eyebrow at this. “They thought you looked the most suspicious?”

Sami laughed with a scoff. “I know right?!”

“You look like you wouldn’t even kill a fly. Why did you come to me?”

Sami pointed at nothing, motioning that one of his family members was the one who recommended Reigns, Heyman, & Associates.

Roman scrunched up his face and laughed. “Nah. You’d be better off going to the floor under me. Talk to one of the associates, they’ll help you out.” He pointed out, opening his meeting schedule from the file on his desk.

Sami’s mood didn’t even falter. “Oh okay! Wow, thank you so much Mr. Reigns. I’ll go do that.” He quickly stood up and left the office.

Roman grabbed one of the sleek black pens settled in a company mug and crossed that meeting off of his list. In another hour, he had another meeting with what was becoming one of his regular clients—Dominik Mysterio.

He shook his head. That boy was such a headache. He’s always doing dumb shit without thinking. This time, he tried to shoplift but got caught by the store owner.

Now, Dominik was sitting in front of Roman, nervously bouncing his leg. “I wasn’t trying to get caught! I always get away with it…”

“Yea, well this time, you didn’t. The store owner caught you.” Roman bluntly told the boy—because he didn’t see him as a man with these childish acts he displayed.

Roman leaned back in his cushioned office swivel chair, thinking.

“Now, I could handle this little misdemeanor in court. I could get the charge dropped, call some people, maybe bribe ‘em.” He rested his hand on his jaw, stroking it. “Or I could get my men to pay this guy a little visit.”

Dominik’s eyes widen. “Like talk to him?”

Roman chuckles at his naivety. “Yea, sure. Put a little fire under his ass.”

Dominik swallows nervously. “They won’t hurt him right? I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Roman squints his eyes. This boy could damn near be his son, as many times as he’s gotten him out of trouble.

“No, they won’t hurt him. But, the next time I see you up here, I’m gon’ teach you something.” Roman warned.

Dominik nodded his head. “Thanks Mr. Reigns. I’ll try to do better.”

“Yea, yea. Get out.”

As the day at the firm was coming to an end, the only thing that helped Roman get through it was the thought of Laila.

The office was peaceful.

That was, until he heard the familiar voices of his two loud ass cousins down the hall.

“Yo, yo, yo! So, we going out tonight?” Jey and Jimmy walked in his office without even knocking or anything.

Jimmy plopped down on the couch that was situated in the corner of Roman’s office, looking at his phone.

“Ya’ll just don’t have any decorum huh?”

“Aye, we family. We don’t gotta do all that, uce.” Jimmy chimes in from the corner, making Roman sigh.

“So yes to the club?” Jey presses on.

Roman shakes his head no.

“Man come on! When was the last time you went out? College?” Jey teased him, making Jimmy laugh out.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Jimmy stood up, walking next to Jey. “You know Naomi gon’ bring Laila with us…” Knowing that would catch Roman’s attention.

Roman’s eyes shot up at the twins.

“See how them big ass ears just perked up like that?” Jimmy grabbed his own ears and pulled them up, illustrating how Roman looked.

“How do you know that?”

Jimmy smacked his teeth. “They was planning to get ready together, do each other’s makeup or hair or something. You know girls be doing that stuff.”

Jey pointed at his twin, agreeing.

“So, it’s a yes?” Jey asked once again, and Roman’s lack of an answer was all they needed to hear.

“Yeet!” The twins both dapped each other up, before doing the same to Roman, making a ghost of a smile appear on his face.

“Only if.” The twins dropped their shoulders and groaned out.

“You two do something for me next week. Rough a guy up a little bit.” He briefly explains.

“Alright, uce. You know we got you.” Jey agrees.

“Aye, what about what I told you about, though.” Jimmy says cocking his head to the side.

“I know. I’ll handle it, don’t worry.” Roman reassured his cousin.

The three of them ended up talking for like another 2 hours about everything they needed to get caught up on in each other’s lives.

Jimmy’s phone started ringing and it was Naomi. She told him that Laila was about to come over to their house so they could start getting ready.

After he got off of the phone, he explained he was going to head back to his house. “Roman, we gotta bounce. Knowing Naomi, she probably want me to pick them up some McDonald’s.” He shook his head.

“Aye, catch you later tonight though?” Jey puts out his fist for a fist bump and Roman obliges.

“Yea.”

The twins were almost out the door when Jimmy turned around. “Can you bring your driver to the house when you get there? I ain’t trying to be nobody’s DD tonight!” He dramatically put his hands up in defense.

Roman actually laughs at this. “Yea. And I’ll bring the Escalade for all of us.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking ‘bout. See you uce!” And they were both gone just as quickly as they had arrived.

After finishing some more paperwork, Roman could finally leave and go home. The thought of seeing Laila later made his heart speed up a little bit.

He grabbed his keys and briefcase and headed to the parking garage that was connected to the building and made his way to his condo.

As soon as he walked in the door and locked it, he texted his driver and informed him that he’ll be driving tonight and that he’ll get a bonus since it was at such short notice.

Putting his briefcase on the kitchen island, he headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower and touch up his beard.

Quickly finishing his shower, he stepped out and wrapped the white towel around his waist, walking to the closet. Damn near all his clothes were black, so he grabbed a plain black T-shirt, a pair of black cargo pants, and his Jordan 11 Retro Bred’s.

After getting dressed and spraying some cologne on, his driver texted him back just in time saying that he was waiting in the car outside.

Roman set the alarm in his home before locking the front door and heading downstairs.

“Good evening Mr. Reigns. How are you?” His driver greeted him as he sat in the backseat.

“Hey man, I’m doing good. And like I said, you’ll get that bonus because it was short notice. Appreciate it.” He told the driver, firmly shaking his hand.

The ride to Jimmy’s house was calm and silent as Roman never listened to music in the car.

They pulled up in Jimmy’s driveway and Roman noted the extra car that was present that wasn’t Jimmy, Jey, or Naomi’s.

A black Volkswagen Beetle.

Roman smirked.

He stepped out of the still-running car, as his driver preferred to just always stay in the car and wait for everyone else so he could bring them to their destination.

Walking up to the front door, he rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer.

“Ya’ll that’s probably Roman!” He heard the muffled sound of Naomi’s voice on the other side of the door before she opened it.

“See I knew it. Hey Roman, come on in!”

“Hey Naomi. Them knuckleheads ready?” He motioned his head to the kitchen.

“They up in there taking shots.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head in irritation.

Suddenly there was the sound of another voice getting closer to the two.

“Naomi, can you put this necklace on for-”

Laila stopped in her tracks at seeing the sight of Roman. Her heart beating out of her chest in his presence, just like when they talked for the first time at the café.

His eyes were glued to hers, smiling softly at her, sensing her surprise at his coming.

“Aye Naomi! Come here for a minute!” Jimmy called from in the kitchen in the midst of him and Jey laughing about God knows what.

Naomi rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time, but obliged. “This house knows no peace.”

Laila giggled before looking back to Roman.

“You need help with that?” He looked down at the necklace she was holding in her two hands.

Laila forgot that’s what she came downstairs for and looked at the dainty chain in her hands. “Oh yeah…”

“I’ll put it on for you.” He reached out and gently took it from her hands, being careful not to tangle it.

“Thank you.” Laila spoke out, turning her back to him and moving her hair out of the way.

It was so intimate, the position they were in. She nearly jumped at the feeling of his fingertips on the back of her neck as he opened the clasp and locked it around one of the chain loops.

While she was trying to control her labored breaths, Roman was getting a bit excited too.

He let his fingertips linger on her nape for a few seconds longer than necessary. His fingers were warm.

“Too tight?” His voice was low.

Laila swallowed and let her hair fall as she turned to face him. “No, it’s fine.” She smiled at him, still so nervous and not knowing what to do with her body, hands, how to stand, or anything.

“You look so beautiful.” The sudden compliment caught Laila by surprise.

This night was just full of surprises.

“Thank you,” She smiled, feeling her face get hot.

First, she didn’t know Roman would be accompanying them to the club because the twins made it sound like he was a homebody.

Which he was, but as soon as he heard Laila was going, he immediately was on board, even if he had to sacrifice his relaxing night by being surrounded by a bunch of dumbasses who were drunk and acting wild.

Laila’s outfit consisted of a white button down halter top, a pair of jeans, and some white open-toed heels.

Roman liked the simplicity of it because he was sure she’d look good in anything.

His eyes were raking over every inch of her, just admiring how perfect she was.

Her eyes rested on his arms.

She noticed them before obviously.

The way his suit fit so deliciously over every part of his body at the café that day. But standing so close and directly in front of him with nothing between them, she saw everything in sharp detail.

The veins running down his forearms, his knuckles that seemed slightly rough, the thought that he could most likely defend himself very well if need be.

“What?” Roman asked, noticing that she zoned out. He wanted to know what she was thinking at all times.

Laila shook her head, laughing it off. “Just thinking..”

“About what? Tell me.” The way he just coerced the answer out of her. It made her weak in the knees. Like you have no choice but to do what he says.

She never had a man take the lead like this.

She never had a man at all, actually.

“You definitely work out a lot.”

Roman grinned at this, scratching his ear, and putting his hands back in his pockets.

“Gotta keep up appearances,” He kept his eyes locked on hers. “Sometimes I gotta remind people who they’re working with.” He said the last part lowly on purpose, and more seriously.

This made Laila laugh. That beautiful melody in his ears.

He’d give anything to hear that laugh every single day.

Their moment was interrupted by two tipsy twins.

“We ready to gooooo!” Jey blurted out.

Naomi looked over at Laila and Roman. “You two bet’ not end up like this.” She pointed to the twins.

Laila and Roman looked at each other and shared a laugh.

After everyone got back in the Escalade and Jimmy making the driver laugh, Laila who was seated right next to Roman couldn’t help but wonder what the night had in store for them.

taglist!: @duhitzkay380 @emotionalhottiee @minsingular @potatosackk @vebner37 @lov3rla03 @romanreignsbae

if you want to be tagged, just comment and let me know!!

[plasticfangtastic]

Dairy Girl-- Part 3

A Homelander x F!Reader fic

A/N: 1more part to go, I've be going on a 4 day trip on wed so I should post the final part next wk, thanks everybody for reading here is part 2 (there's a link for part 1 there)

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

tags: child death mention, depressive, dark, kidnapping, stocklhom syndrome, HL tw.

word count: 4.4K

Part 3-- Fields

Months.

You’ve been here for months.

You aren’t quite certain of the timeframe but you kept track of the full moon, how often things faded and re-emerged, you’re sure half a year of your life has vanished slower than ever before, for weeks you find yourself holding on, now you aren’t sure why? This body of yours grows heavier around his arms as you sat there in that massive corner booth listening, as he squeezed your jacket as if to remind you he had a hold on you… or to make sure you were okay, you hoped.

Several months have passed and you can’t help but wonder how you ended up in this Chinese restaurant having dinner with your captor.

Homelander’s visitation continued to be more sporadic, your time seems of less importance these days, you find yourself painfully alone, no matter how pretty the tapestry, how interesting the films have become, how delicious the food is or how the forced expansion of your music taste as they feed you an eclectic collection from japanese city pop to medieval folk rock albums changed the fact that you were alone. It had been endless weeks since you last saw a human being beside Homelander.

You stared at that steel door, its presence tempting you, mocking you, insulting you.

You pressed aimlessly at the panel hoping it would break or force somebody to emerge to tell you off– just the sound of a live human would be enough to fill this emptiness inside you even if it was for a short burst. The library elevator had been locked and no amount of pulling would get it to break, your voice, your sole company, birds would come and sing ‘hello’ but as pretty as they were they flew away at the sight of you.

Everything was perpetually quiet.

At least when the sun still lingered.

At night you couldn’t even sleep this awfulness off, your brain trapped you in a different nightmare.

The only time when this house wasn’t submerged in silence was in your slumber.

Ghost lived here you’ve come to accept.

“Every night I have the same nightmares” you spoke to a squirrel one morning

Cries of a baby you can never find, as you wake up, dazed and exhausted you hear the faintest cry and all your mind has tried to do these past few weeks and months have been to move on but ghostly cries forever remind you of the emptiness left in your arms, ghost hoping to crush everything within you, but when the sun is out you tell yourself that your baby boy is gone, you accept it. 

Every night before bed you recite a fresh mantra ‘you’re okay now, that in the future perhaps you could finally become a mother, that the embers still burn inside you, your love is there but is not wrong to move on’ but your nightmares won’t let you move on from a pain you couldn’t forget.

You pray to whatever god you believed, or used to believe for dreamless slumber, each night the thought of sleep frightens you, making you wish for death for it was kinder.

The only peaceful slumber comes with a blond catch.

In your arms he’s both small and larger than life, light and heavy, his lips pursed on your sensitive skin, his quiet moans and mewls send shivers down your spine yet bring you an animalistic primal comfort that tap in a primitive part of your motherly brain, his scent fades and returns the next time reeking of oatmeal and chamomile, as your nose sinks on his hair and he wraps his naked hand around your waist itching to crawl higher, to hold your breast much like a real baby would you forget he is grown, picking his fingers and letting them hang on your own, in this times were you drift away from boredom– you sleep peacefully. Wondering if there was safety in this? The world’s most powerful man held against your bosom, nothing could hurt you here– not even the nightmares. Afraid of him you supposed.

Homelander looks up with glassed eyes, licking his lips as he pops your nipple out his mouth, blissed out, so happy it colors you with envy– that’s the only smile you know it's 100% genuine, you seen all his earlier movies it certainly been refined but his smile is disturbingly faux… convincingly sold, nevertheless as he nuzzles you and giggles softly into your chest that you learn what his truly looked like.

When was the last time you smiled like that? You wondered.

You hand caressed his face cleaning a loose drop off his chin.

“You want me to stay tonite?”

It’s been almost 2 weeks since he stayed more than a couple hours, you don’t know what to say, he still fills you with fear but as the afternoon glow colors the tapestry and the night creeps closer and closer you want that safety… just one night without nightmares.

“Please stay…”

Homelander smiles and squeezes your sides, forcing you into a hug, he begins talking and is not a conversation you can follow or wished to but is music nowadays– the sound of another person, it's the sweetest music you’d ever listened to, searing banalities into your eardrums, but its sweet… something to make you forget that by morning he’d be gone and you be left alone with nothing but ghosts and thoughts.

“Can we switch positions?” Your arm has grown numb under him.

He grumbles pouting like a child, but he’s happy to oblige, the TV plays quietly in the background you’re unsure how much longer the tape has, but he stares at you as he sits straight waiting for further instruction, while you fix the pillows.

“I just want to be the little spoon…”

Homelander eyes light up–literally. It doesn’t last long and his lips curl dropping on the bed with eager eyes, your grimace is internal but you crawl into padded arms.

“Promise me you won’t leave in the middle of the night…” you say so quietly, he stares at those pretty eyes of yours and those thick dark circles under your eyes allowing himself to caress your cheek– until morning…”

“Ryan is off on a camping trip with one of his buddies… I can stay the whole weekend.”

“Weekend?”

“It’s friday, Y/N.” He says as if that was obvious.

Your eyes open so wide it hurts your face, but you nod furiously, a part of you dies, whatever self-respect you had is fading as the only thought consuming you is that for at least 2 days you’ll have company.

“I’m surprised you let him go”

“I have a few men watching him from a distance, and I can fly and check up on him at any point” he says through gritted teeth.

“It’s nice that you trust him. Must make him feel like a big kid… My parents never let me do such things…”

“Why not?” He asks, watching you with genuine surprise as your body loses resistance, sinking into him.

“They worried too much… always sheltering me… watching over me…” You missed them, you missed a world of people, now those obnoxious actions of the past warm your heart but you don’t let it be seen– He’s lucky to have you.”

You stayed in his arms until the credits finished rolling.

“Kill the feed!” Homelander shouts startlingly you stiff, he waits in silence grinding his teeth, jumping out of the bed almsot throwing you off the mattress, once his cape unfastened he turns back to you– what? you think i'm gonna lay down all night in this?”

You just watched him as he moved around your room entering your closet as you shook off the scare, and procuring an oversized t-shirt grumbling to himself about ordering some loungewear, you watched him undress with your heart creeping up your throat, squeezing the duvet as your worst nightmares tease an entrance to reality, with each thud of his suit and clanking of gold your heart rate doubled in speed, he who had very much avoided touching most of you, could very much do so and you’d be powerless to stop him, he turns around throwing you a look of disbelief making you wonder if ‘mind-reading’ was a unpublicized skill of his.

Without his suit… he seemed more human than he had any right to be, his bright orange undies peeking under the old t-shirt with a pulled neck allowing you to see a handful of chest hairs creeping up, Homelander left you in the room heading out, his eyes examining that all cameras were in fact turn off and so were the microphones, stopping by a tacky painting of kittens in the hallway, tapping on the thick frame carefully.

“I was thinking I should have this place redecorated” He said loudly, his hand stroking the frame– bring it into the 21st century… What do you like– farmhouse chic… art deco? Altho your house was a mix-match of things.”

You jumped off the bed and followed him keeping distance as you tried to suppress your trembling hands.

“You’ve been to my house?”

“I was curious about you… you’ve been here 5 months and the doctors are surprised you haven’t… lost your mind.” He turns to you– altho you’ve been playing the music twice as loud as before”

“Is lonely in here…” You look away trying to figure out the best words you ought to say– you haven’t visited me in weeks”

“I told you. I’m busy– I have a movie… we are doing some re-shoots… the studio feels like they need a new direction and we needed a new post-credit scene so it ties up with The Deep’s next film and–” he bites his tongue– I should call… I’ll have a phone installed… but what can I do to make your stay here less lonesome.``

“Keep me company… at least downstairs I could see the other girls…” You look down– are they okay?”

“That whole thing has been shut down. No need for it to continue if I have you.” 

He didn’t expect to see that beam of light in your eyes, but then those lips of yours straightened for something sinister came into your mind.

“What happened to them?” Faces that were still fresh in your mind spoil– are they okay?”

“Who knows…” he shrugs with genuine indifference– oh don’t make that look! I didn’t make the order, I simply told them to close shop… I can find out if you want.”

Staring into his eyes for what could’ve been an eternity but you never answered, which seemed to please him, he stretched his hand asking for yours and in that darkened hallway he seemed to be its only shadow, you obeyed afraid of displeasing him punished with abandonment for another endless loop, his fingers are always so warm and soft around yours. 

“You don’t sleep very much do you? I used to sleep a lot when they left me alone… which wasn’t often” He squeezes your hand pulling you closer– you can talk to me, Y/N. I want to know…”

“You’ve been to my home… you should know why I don’t sleep much…” 

“I can’t… imagine what you’ve been thru… If I lost Ryan–”

“I accepted it. I think it just wasn’t my time or his time…” You cut him off– I don’t know ‘bout God’s plan or nuthin but I just accepted that maybe one day it be for me but not yet.”

Homelander gave you a half moon, glad to see how strong you’ve been, glad to know you could withstand his abuse… you continued to be a challenge.

That night you both laid in bed, cradling him in your arms watching him mumble loudly in his sleep, his eyes shifting wildly, you watch him fight in his nightmare as you thought of your own… of those women and the bottles, how your signatured had doomed them, you bit your lips and watched him until exhaustion ate you up.

Waking up with a kiss from the sun without ever experiencing a single nightmare, not even their faces haunt your sleep.

It made you ill to be so relieved.

He kept you company, watching movies and eating popcorn, lounging around forcing you to read books to him, you thought that this would all you two would do-- just lounge around and pretend you weren’t growing bored.

“Wanna go out for dinner?” 

Your ears perked up.

“I’ll go and tell them to get us some clothes, and we can go have dinner.”

“You mean outside?”

“Of course silly… you’ve been good, I think you deserve it.” He jumps off the couch, heading towards the metal door dragging his feet– you like chinese. I saw you had lots of take-out menus.”

“I would love to” You ran after him, hugging him– can we get Ice-cream too… afterwards?”

“I could always go for a milkshake.” He kissed your cheek– be a good girl and go get ready would ya?”

He faded into the other side, hearing those metal doors slide open filled you with joy, you had your chance, you were good, you did all that Homelander wanted of you, you listened to his endless ramblings and you gave him what he stole you for without complaint, and now he rewarded you, the gods had finally heard you.

This was your chance.

You would run to the cops, you would hide in the sewers, you would run until your feet were stumps if you had to but you would get out of here, away from him, away from his dollhouse.

You were so focused you didn't even register his sudden kiss until you started to undress in the bathroom, you touched your cheek wondering about why he'd done so.

You did as you were told and as your hair dried he came back bearing clothes from this century entering the bedroom as you stood covered with nothing but a towel, he came in an orange t-shirt and a navy jacket his sight on your face as if he had manners. It took you a few seconds to realize these were your clothes, washed and ironed, he threw them in the bed lingering for a few seconds before returning you some privacy.

“You look good” You smile feeling weird in your own clothes, nothing but a band t-shirt and your best jeans, he handed you a jacket that was definitely not yours but a matching one to his own– they told me there’s this bar you liked quite a bit”

“The Loose End?” you smiled, they knew you there, the bartender knew you by name, the regular waitress Liz knew you too, if he took you there you could find a way out– they’re cheap and the nachos are great… and they have live music every weekend.”

“It’s a date then.” 

For the first time you crossed those steel doors, those wall held a boring room, a set of desk littered here and there alongside filing cabinets, a young man in a lab coat handed Homelander something while you looked around everywhere this whole setup was nothing but a repurposed kitchen, a storage close, and the entry hall, two large windows let the light in allowing you to see the driveway, and more evergreen forest, there were no houses just road and bushes indeed this location was as desolated as initially suspected. Leaving through the front door you spotted a pair of bikes parked on the side, while the garage was closed. A random man dragged a trolley filled with peonies, your feet were trembling as you stepped on that welcome mat, the air was so chilly against your skin, so refreshing on cracking lips.

Grass… trees… clouds… nowhere to run, you looked at the bikes but never did you look for their keys five seconds ago.

“Are we getting an Uber?” You looked at him.

He took you by the waist, not giving you an answer before jumping straight into the heavens, there was a town to the east, a highway near it, before your words could leave your body, he pressed your face against his shoulder, it's a whistling sound singing in your ear as an insanely heavy weighted blanket slammed against you, this song kept playing cut abruptly by honking, your feet hit the ground and you could’ve sworn you’ve died he lets go of your head messin with your hair as you parted from this tight embrace, looking bemused.

“Am I alive?”

“There’s not a safer vehicle in the world than me.” He chuckles– you’re fine.”

Blinking hard you looked around and immediately recognized the street peeking from the end of the alleyway, your old apartment was 20 minutes from this place, you started moving without him.

Your neck snapped back as he took your arm, forcing you still.

“The restaurant is that way.”

He held your arm so tight your fingers tingle from numbness, interlocking elbows as he forced you into the street, to passerbys you were just another nameless couple, nobody gave you guys a second look, the afternoon light was beginning to fade behind tall buildings, you look at strangers pleading for them to notice something was off only to meet discomfort and indifference, people minded their business and in the busy street you two failed to stand out, you knew every street and in your silence you hoped to see familiar faces but nothing but strangers surrounded you both.

Both stopping at the entrance of a chinese restaurant, you’re sure you’d ordered from here before, the place is loud and there’s a TV set on the sports channel, it smells of fried rice and oil and you can hear the cook shouting in cantonese, he never lets you speak and the waitress is too busy talking to her coworker to care just telling you to sit anywhere you like.

He sits you in a booth on the corner away from the window almost hidden but able to see a good chunk of the people, the tv plays in the back but you can’t see it, your face is obscured by a beam, the more you look at the decour it strikes you as cheap and busy, lights dim and there wasn’t many people inside no doubt he picked this place for a reason.

“I feel like egg rolls and sweet and sour pork… you want noodles or rice?”

“Rice… with chicken… and…” You glance at the menu– scallion pancakes…”

Time moves like a dream, you count the exits, the number of waitresses, you hear the phone used for take-out orders but from your spot you can’t see the phone, you see the paper sign saying ‘toilet’ which could lead to an unseen exit, maybe into the kitchen, but as the entree arrived you knew you couldn’t run to your old home, you could run to the nearest metro station take the train anywhere, the direction made no difference you just had to find a cop… anything to save you.

As you force yourself to chew it dawns on you how Homelander has not spoken, turning to see him and he has a dry smile in his lips, his sight focused on the table on the furthest end of the room, the party grew louder you assumed they caught his attention annoyed by their presence or something in that vein.

Dishware clank and people spoke and baseball played but his attention was on them alone, you swore you could’ve run and he wouldn’t notice.

“Are you okay?” You spoke with the meekest tone you could muster– is there something wrong with the food?”

He scoots in his seat moving closer to the edge of table, this boot could’ve sat a party of five with ease so he left you with a lot of space and for a moment you felt as if he was about to just walk out but instead he looked at the empty spot then jerked his head towards the direction of the party.

“Is there a friend of yours there…?” You try to remain bubbly, finding his demeanor uneasy.

Following him you take his former spot but he doesn’t leave the boot, and then you see it.

The big thing he was staring at.

She was so thin that it looked bigger than it should, she was a tiny frail thing and the bump protruded out of her stomach violently. She sat back down, her grin so big and her laugh so chirpy as she rejoined the group.

The group too engrossed in each other to notice… to notice the crying woman on the other side of the dimly lit restaurant.

He seemed the same, his hair was the same, his beard was the same, his shirt was the one you bought him last christmas and he looked… happy… happy as he kissed this woman you’ve never seen, holding her hand, caressing her stomach, she didn’t need a name for you to despise what she meant, there it was your ex-husband who shouted at you about not being ready to be a father, your ex who showed up late to the funeral and didn’t stick around to comfort you, who never made it to the hospital visits more than twice, here he was happy.

Looking at a young thing carrying the baby he did want.

Just like he never looked at you.

“Am so happy you’re having a little girl!” The older woman who sat across from him said– after everything that happened I'm just elated for you Eric.”

You heard your mother’s voice with so much clarity.

“After Y/N I never thought I would find somebody but I think she would’ve been happy for us. I’m just glad you guys are doing okay after everything…”

“It’s hard but you are still family and we can be happy for you and your sweet little girl”

You watched him comfort your mother, the way he talked about you as if he meant it.

When did he ever mean it? Did he find remorse in his heart after you were gone or was it to brush away the accusations.

‘Who would you run to?’ that voice in your head asked, your family was right there, your dad, your mom, a mutual friend of you both, your ex– they were all there but they didn’t see you, the more you focused on their words, the way they mentioned your name as if it made them feel icky.

“I was thinking of naming her after Y/N, I know she meant a lot to Eric and had we not met at that support group–

You ran off the booth, rushing to the bathroom, you’re sure somebody looked at you as the plates rattled, Homelander gave you a glance but didn’t follow you.

Slamming the door behind you, in that ugly cramped bathroom you screamed into your knees, every fiber of your body recoiled, tightening around your chest, you stayed there until your own sobs hurt your throat and your eyes itched from salt.

Staring at your swollen eyes and red nose you washed away what you could, nausea still lingered robbing you off your appetite.

The door opened and there was no red, white and blue suited supe, just a hall with faded pictures and a storage closet, walking not knowing what to find, not wanting to be seen.

He was still in the booth, happily waiting on you with a bag of leftovers propped on the table.

“Let’s go home…” You whispered, your throat hoarse.

“Home? Where is that?” he grins

“Home… take me home… please…”

He stares at the party who are now sharing their final drinks and readying to leave.

You sit on the edge pushing him into the booth, forcing him to pay attention to you and not those behind, maybe it was because he was Homelander that you kissed him, that you had the attention of a more enviable man than Eric ever was that you kissed him in front of him  and your family, maybe it was because it felt good, his thin lips soft and delicate against yours, it was  quick thing, his shock was palpable in the nervousness of his kiss was cute, but it felt good… for once something felt good again.

“Let’s go Homelander… I don’t wanna be here anymore…”

His lips pressed against your cheek before lifting himself, making sure to cover your sight as you both left the building turning away from the window as the party began to gather their things, he stopped for a second after walking for a few minutes.

“I just need to text Ashley something before I forget… work stuff” You didn’t care.

He typed slowly with his index instead of his thumbs which made you cringe a little.

“All good. You sure you don’t wanna go watch a gig, we don’t have to go back home.” He said softly.

“My tits hurt.” His eyes light up at the lie– unless you wanna have a sippy in the toilets before the show stars to help me out here”

“... I… I do…” 

If he blushed any harder he’d be a stop light, you smiled unable to stop chuckling at his stupid face.

“Didn’t peg you for the kind of guy to get freaky in the bathroom of a dingy bar… guess America’s son does have a real kinky side to him.”

“You have no idea darling… do you have a kinky side perhaps?”

“Fuck me.” Her stomach popped into your head, his hand caressing her bulge played on loop, his disgusting smile, all of him played all around you, memories of his touch burnt your skin, everybody had his disgusting mug on their faces– and find out.”

He took your hand and started walking faster, throwing away the bag of takeout into the lap of the first homeless person he’d seen.

The woman looked at Eric as he said goodbye to your parents, her phone buzzed, turning around to hide her screen, a text message from with a receipt for 25,000 dollars deposited on her account, as well as a doctor’s appointment booking.

She signed with relief.

“Understood.” she texted back.

[cuprohastes]

The Story (Re-Write)

Because so many people wanted to read the story, I had to explain a few times… It's gone. It's lost — I can't find it on Live journal or the Wayback Machine. I suspect it might have been on Google+…

Anyway, several people asked for it to be re-written. Between now and the past, a lot's happened, much of which makes for juicy plot points: And, so I'm serialising it… But only because if I tried to write it in one sitting, my brain would melt. So here's Chapter 1:

Trouble sleeping

Didn't Shakespeare write something about sleep? “Shut me in a nutshell, and I'll be hella good if I can get skibidi sleep?” 

Something like that. 

Larry was not getting sleep, or not enough. Every time he started to sink into the cloud of free association and relaxation, something skittered or whispered to him and jerked him back awake.

In an earlier time, he'd have blamed it on spirits or demons. More recently, maybe the effects of stress and mental health. His parents would have gone to therapy about it.

Larry, a modern person, brought up by Memers and soaked in tech his entire life, didn't have to guess.

It was the fucking wallpaper.

It'd sounded great when he put the first payment down for it. The installers had shown up, ground sixty years of Landlord Paint off the walls, leaving chunks of off-white Fordite all over the floor, and mounted the data-mesh.

Then they'd rolled the rubbery panels down over it, cutting them to fit, letting the test images calibrate and line up.

The first thing Larry put up was an immersive view of some idealised forest. Lush green ferns, a spritz of mist and shafts of smoky golden sun reaching through the trunks.

A week later, the first adverts popped up across the mars-scape he'd switched to. A can of SelZa sitting on a rock that developed a halo of text about how great drinking your pizza would be: Would you like to order now?

The Amazon link popped right up, and Larry had to look away before it took a casual look as an invitation to send him fizzy pizza water.

Soon the animated avatars of other brands were sauntering out from behind rocks to tempt him with Keto Water, Fréch Breeze (Guaranteed fresh air: No microplastics, with Extra Oxygen and Caffeine — Take a Breath of Fréche Air™), frozen pizza, and about a dozen competing Kombucha fermenters.

Larry thought he could live with it.

He was wrong.

Soon his soothing landscapes and themed views were plated in adverts, coruscating and blinking to get his attention. 

Phantom people stared in at him, vamping with designer goods and clothes.

Ad gremlins scampered around, making him twitch as the motion caught the periphery of his vision.

And the WindoWall had audio: The big panels vibrating to act as speakers, and picking up video through camera arrays, listening via a hundred microphones that could pinpoint him within the room.

Just part of life, he told himself.

But then he went to bed. 

The WindoWall darkened and spread an Aurora across one wall, a sprinkle of glittering stars. The audio changed to cancel traffic sounds — A soft chorus of frogs and pattering rain started to play — One wall developed a brazier of softly glowing coals…

Larry backflipped into relaxed unconsciousness hard.

… for ten minutes.

Larry woke, squinting at the sudden brightness:

An advert for SleepyTime Choc Hotlet tried to sing him a lullaby as a cartoon capybara with a fucking lamp demonstrated the sleep he could be getting if they hadn't woken him up to tell him how much better he'd be sleeping if he just bought some SleepTime Choc hotlet to drink!

The Capybara winked and turned off the light. Larry tried to get back to sleep. Fireflies danced gently around the room… and formed up to spell out the name of a mattress company.

Larry rolled over and closed his eyes.

An adorable gnome giggled at him and had a whispered, though perfectly audible conversation with a delightful bunny about how before bed she always used Freshens. Whatever they were.

Larry commando rolled out of bed, mashed his toe on something, screamed in pain, was offered three brands of slipper, four over-the counter painkillers and seven offers to sue someone for personal injury.

All of which were ignored as Larry pulled up the WindoWall app and pushed the brightness and volume to minimum — The glassy matte of the wall panels becoming black in the room lit only by the tablet screen.

Then Larry took some Ibuprofen and went back to bed.

45 minutes later he twitched and woke up to find the room lit by wall panels of text and still images for sleep aids fading in and out, and a soft sussurtion - Quiet Ad Reads that Larry suspected were supposed to subconsciously bias him to buying... Sleep Underwear?

In short succession, Larry found out that he couldn't sleep with an eyemask because the WindoWall started cranking the audio up now he wasn't looking.

And that ear plugs improvised from rolled tissue got him a volume increase and some recommendations about the mildest softest tissues — And he could save 15% if he subscribed!

And that was bad enough: Larry called up the WindoWall Customer Support after a sleepless night.

Customer Support turned out to be an AI avatar who appeared on the wall, using the built-in camera array to track Larry.

“Where are all these adverts coming from?” He asked. Starting simple.

The Face of WindoWall did a polite look of curiosity then, in rich, friendly terms, said “'Adverts' is short for Advertisements: a Method of promoting products....”

Typical answerbot, grabbing a definition from Wiki — But not resolving the query. Larry immediately asked for a real human being.

The Face argued that the chatbot could help, or else it could open the Support Pages for Larry. 

Larry insisted on a human and eventually hit on the correct keywords: “I want to talk to a human being - This is a complaint, please escalate.” And the Face went into an idle animation, repeating, “Our support staff are currently busy with other requests – Please wait. In the meantime you can use our AI responder or the support website” every minute or so.

Larry, familiar with the under-staffed human support departments, picked up a tablet and opened his current book-in-progress while he waited. 

Thumbing past a motion graphic for the series of re-writes of Terry Pratchett by an AI to add 50% extra hilarity and extended scenes, he opened Virtual Investigations: A Max Ransom Adventure...

She walked into my office feed like bad news wrapped in a pretty bow. No way she was real: A dame like that doesn't walk into a virtual office like mine. The wings wouldn't fit through the door. The angel looked at me with golden eyes and hair the colour of mocha - Like the mocha on my desk provided by CoffeeCourier™ – Roast and vacuum packed for freshness according to the quick personality quiz that matched me to the perfect coffee for my busy lifestyle. And you too can enjoy a cup of Mental-Fresh Mocha using code DETECTIVE10 “What's an avatar like you doing in my office?” I asked. In reality I was renting a VR space with a fold down bed and access to three busted washer-dryers in the basement. Online my virtual office was classy, just like you'd expect from a CubeSpace Virtual Site - CubeSpace use real scans to decorate your virtual space for the best in class work sites. Use DETECTIVE10 to get 10% off your own virtual office site for the lifetime of your subscription... She looked at me a moment then said “As an LLM I don't have a philosophy of mind to answer with. I'm here because you have 4.6 stars on Amazon Business Listings as a Detective.” I do. It'd be higher, but some people don't give you a good rating when you chase them for payment. Maybe I should stop showing up with a bill and a threat to post about thier broke asses on the Socials. “I will pay you for your services as a detective to locate my user.” She continued. I looked at her with fresh eyes. So, not someone with an angel kink – An actual House Assistant looking for it's user... the case just got interesting!

Larry was interrupted by the Face clearing its throat, now puppeted by a support worker. The Face's shirt turned green and developed a name badge saying “obj.user.name_1”

“Hello, my name is Shimonne, I'll be assisting you today. The uh notes say you want to know what adverts are...?” It said in the same voice – Corporate robbing its staff of even their own voice.

“Uh no,” said Larry, “I asked where all these adverts came from? Did the video stream get hacked?”

The Face paused and did a canned animation of looking at a tablet.

“Ah, as per the contract, WindoWall reserve the right to show adverts from...” a soft, tired sigh, “Select partners, to provide you with enhanced opportunities to discover carefully curated products” - Said in an equally tired monotone.

Somewhere, Larry assumed, Shimonne was getting dinged for non-compliant tone. But Larry appreciated the little bit of empathy.

A pop-up survey asking how the interaction was progressing slid up, invisible to the Face. Larry tapped a 5 for style and actual empathy. Fuck the Corporate Tone.

“Ok...” said Larry, “But that wasn't how it was sold to me.”

“I understand.” Shimonne said through the Face. “It is in the EULA.” They added, pronouncing it with a deliciously melodic ripple of vowels that even the Face's vocoder couldn't stamp into the carefully selected Midwest accent the marketing team for VirtuAgent had pushed.

So of course Larry asked, “How do I turn them off?”

And that's how Larry got upsold on the Premium Ad-Free tier.

Of course... He didn't read the EULA for that either.

------

OK now a bit about the story. It's very like a couple of Black Mirror Episodes. Even some Farenheit 451, Idocracy, Midnight Burger, Feed, a spritz of Snowcrash... a whole bunch of other stuff. Some of this I've read or watched, some I haven't. But I don't live in a void: Whatever's in here definitely 100% was isnpired in whole or in part by other works, or even current events, shitposts on Social media, memes on Imgur, even things on Tumblr: @marlynnofmany writes fantastic stories and pops up some seriously interesting questions about what day to day life would be like in a world where you can have a starship full of non-human intelligences deliver your packages. So if you're thinking 'This reminds me of..." the answer is probably "yeah that's right." :)

And now a snitch post for some people who wanted to be notified if the story ever showed up:

@ravencromwell @rocinantescoffeestop @vtothefun @call-me-b-please-and-thank-you @msimpossibility @museumofinefarts @faeriesaurus @starlo-official

[pynkhues]

please do share more about lestat learning english from a sailor (who tops him, i gather). you're like the only writer who can write louis or lestat with other people and still make it hot to me (though of course your writing them together tops everything. no pun intended.)

(x)

Oh! Hahaha, yeah! It's one I've had for a while, and I have it briefly pencilled into the outline of the Lestat POV fic set after Ungodly Hour, but it was kind of shook out after re-reading TVL and thinking a lot about a few things? I've mentioned it on here before, but I'm a little obsessed with the exchange between Armand and Lestat in the book where Armand tells Lestat that nobody ever loved either of them enough to teach them anything, and that kind of thematic marriage of education as an act of love that really goes through the series, but particularly that book, which feels really unique to me as a thematic union?

It's something that particularly excites me, because I'm really fascinated by the fact that Lestat could be resentful of educated men as a result - in fact I think typically in fiction, characters like Lestat usually are - but it's genuinely the opposite. He's attracted to intelligent, well-educated men. More than attracted! He falls in love with them! From Louis to Nicki to David in the books, but I'd even argue Armand, where the attraction there begins as a result of both Armand's beauty and what Lestat perceives as vampiric knowledge (and I think there’s kind of an interesting beat with Lestat becoming less interested in him when he realises Armand doesn’t actually have that knowledge).

So yes! On the one hand, my head is often there, but on the other, I do think Lestat needs to have had a degree of - - mm, not sexual healing, because I don't think he's ever actually had that, but I guess sexual reclamation before he meets Louis, and I don't think that can just involve women or topping men, especially because I do read Lestat's 'You can be on top' line on their wedding night as literal (I know plenty of people disagree with me, and you're welcome to, but regardless. That's how I see it.)

(This isn't fic, but it's not not fic, and please know it's pretty sloppy, haha)

SO, I kind of like this idea that he was mostly with women when he and Gabrielle were traveling, especially after Nicki dumps him so brutally and Gabrielle's sort of divorcing herself from her own womanhood as she leaves Lestat for longer and longer periods of time. To me, I think he's probably looking for lovers who can mother him better than Gabrielle in her absence following the traumas of Magnus, then Armand, then the break-up with Nicki, and while I think he probably is intimate with men still, I think it's rare, and I think he'd always be pitching, so to speak.

The long sleep is obviously harrowing in and of itself, but I think being woken by Marius and taken to the Greek Islands probably feels like something close to a fresh start, or at least a way Lestat can try and pretend he's stepped out of the bear trap of his own trauma, and it's especially something because Marius is teaching him things! Sharing things and wanting him to learn, and Armand's just taught him (both a century ago and minutes ago) that that's something that means someone loves him! And I think he loves the islands! He's not there for very long, and he’s mostly holed up with Marius of course, but I think when he gets his chance he swans around and relishes in the glow of this new life so far away from his old one, and I think he fucks around the villages a little, and probably with more men again now, with the distance and the comfort and the look and the sound and the language of them so different to any of the men he left behind in Paris.

I think he's probably enjoying being pampered and the centre of attention, because he's Lestat, and maybe one of them eats him out, which isn't something anyone's ever done for him before, which is so good and feels like - - something.  So he contemplates it with this sweet and eager man, and maybe they make plans to see each other again, but nothing further happens because he drinks from Akasha and everything goes to hell, and suddenly he’s on a boat! Hidden in a crate to be lurched up into the cargo hold because he’s a vampire and it’s the only way to ensure light won’t spill through a window and find him.

But still! He needs to eat, y’know? He’s too restless for a long sleep, even though it’ll be four, five weeks til they arrive in the new world, and he has no idea what to expect from America, and he can’t speak a word of English, but every night he clambers out of his crate to hold the sea air in his long-dead lungs and find a feed. He can’t exactly hunt among the humans every night without causing alarm, so he tries to balance it all between the rats in the hold, the cabin boys who lurk close to the hatch, and some nights he creeps up onto the deck to chase the seabirds that dance around the hull, but only once does he eat a passenger. An odious man with a pipe and ugly thoughts of a girl barely fifteen who he means to steal into the cabin of.

(And it’s bloody, that one. Lestat tears out his throat and stomps on his cock and pushes his eyeballs so far back in their sockets they pop before he throws the mangled remains of him overboard.)

Nobody seems to care much though, and so he’s not sure when this shipman notices him, but he does, because Lestat starts to hear his thoughts. Jumbled words in a language he doesn’t understand that always seem sort of amused and always seem aimed at him, and it’s not until the second week on board that this man slips down into the cargo hold and finds him. He’s older in appearance at least, but not by much. Has maybe a decade on Lestat’s physical age, his face streaked with grime, his features dark and craggy, but handsome somewhere beneath it all, and when he starts to talk, his voice is low and rough, and all Lestat can do is hold up his hands, say Je suis vraiment désolé, je ne parle pas anglais, and the guy says something that ends with the word Frog.

“You,” the man says slowly, pointing at him, and Lestat nods, understanding, before the man points up above them to the deck, and says something that has Lestat blinking back at him. Saying:

“Je ne fais pas semblant, monsieur, je ne parle vraiment pas anglais.”

The man frowns, and Lestat eases his own nerves by smiling charmingly back at him, wondering vaguely if he should eat him, if he even could? Would he taste of ship work and sea air? That could be nice, Lestat supposes, but his neck is rather greasy, he thinks, eyeballing it, when the man suddenly sniffs, fists his hips, looks back at him with an exasperated look.

His gaze carries past Lestat, to the crate he’s been sleeping in, before he looks back at Lestat. He points at Lestat, then it, then presses his palms together, lifts them beside his head, tilting his neck towards them, and making a loud, nasal sound with his nose.

Lestat stares at him, as the man lifts his head again, repeating the gesture – pointing at Lestat, the crate, then - - ah, yes! Pretending to snore!

“Oui,” Lestat says, pointing at the crate. Yes, he sleeps here! What a quick-thinking man! He looks back at him, and the monsieur is staring at him, almost surprised that Lestat has admitted it with such enthusiasm.

“Okay,” he says, and Lestat nods.

“Okay,” he echoes, the words clunking out of his mouth, and at the sound of it, the man looks almost amuse. He seems to think for a moment, take Lestat in, before he exhales, gestures to himself again, says:

“Abel.”

Which - - oh! He means him! Lestat nods, suddenly delighted.

“Lestat.”

The man - - Abel - - he squints back at him, like he’s trying to tell if Lestat’s telling the truth, and so Lestat says it again, hand to his chest, Lestat, before he glides over, pressing a hand to Abel’s chest, which the other man quickly bats away. Lestat’s unphased, says: Abel.

Abel looks up at him, says something else in English that Lestat can’t comprehend, before he tosses up his hands, and then he turns on his heel, climbs back up to the deck, and just - - leaves him. And it’s a swell of emotion of course – the sense that he should’ve killed him, that he could reveal him, could pry open his crate in the daytime and let the sunlight flood in, and Lestat reaches for his mind, but he can’t make sense of the language. No, the only sense he can make of the man is that he’s quiet, that his hands are always red and aching from rope burn, that he’s planted his feet on more countries than even Lestat, but never France, no, and Lestat doesn’t know why he lets him live that first night beyond the fact that it’s the first time someone has spoken to him in two weeks.

Still, he’s only half expecting it when Abel comes back the next night after Lestat has fed on a wary seagull, the man holding a ship lantern and a frayed wad of notepaper and a little bag of things he’ll soon learn involves a map and a pencil and a children’s word book borrowed from a passenger, and Lestat’s not entirely sure what to expect when Abel lays it over another crate he means to use as a desk, but he peers into his mind and sees only intent. So Lestat sits beside him, and Abel, gruff, with cracked hands, starts to teach him.

And it becomes a habit, every night after the passengers are rounded up for bed, Abel steals back down to the cargo hold with a plan and few words, and it’s just - - it’s the sort of school Lestat had always wanted. Not long lectures littered with personal history, the sort Marius had liked to soliloquy, but words and letters and a pencil in his hand, and Abel was patient in a way Lestat had never known. Gruff, yes, but warm, and ever exasperated, of course – Lestat knows he is ever exasperating – but Abel would never get angry. No, Abel would have Lestat repeat words and change tones and pronunciations, and he’d adjust Lestat’s grip on the pencil, and his hand would be so big, so firm, so hot atop his own, that Lestat had found himself deliberately mishandling it just so Abel would fix it.

And he could hear it. Could see it in Abel’s ever open head, his mind a window for Lestat to press his nose to, and in it was a dutied marriage and a dead child, then worse, a man, a lover, gone the way Nicki did, then years at sea to escape, and beneath it, boys he’d loved but could too rarely bring himself to touch, so Lestat touched. Lestat would lean over until their shoulders pressed atop the crate they used as a table, and Lestat would let their knees knock when they sat opposite one another, would let their fingers brush when he plucked an apple from his hand and learnt this English word for une pomme, and Abel would never flinch. Would never let his eyes dart, would never show that he’d felt it at all. Would just exhale the closest thing to a laugh he ever shared with Lestat, and tell him America would eat him alive.

“Not if I don’t eat it first,” Lestat took to saying, and Abel would give him a look that he tried to make disapproving but always just looked hopeful, which gave Lestat dreams of staying aboard. Of travelling port to port with this growling stranger, his blunt-nailed, crack-knuckled teacher, this man who offered without expectation, and Lestat could pay him, and maybe one night he tries to. Offers him some of the jewellery he’s brought with him, stuffed into a pouch in his crate, but Abel doesn’t want it, and maybe it’s then that Lestat realises that Abel’s lonely too.

Maybe it has Lestat touching him softer, more intentionally, and maybe it’s when Lestat’s hand touches his elbow, ever so gently, in thanks, that Abel’s mask finally cracks. When his eyes clench and a mournful sound tears from his throat, and he leaves Lestat early that night. Disappears up the hold to the deck as Lestat watches him depart, and he’s not sure what to expect, but the hard grasp of loneliness finds him that night and he climbs back into his crate to weep himself to sleep.

Still, Abel comes back, and maybe they pretend it’s nothing until they’re a night from port, an Abel’s brought beer down from the kitchens to celebrate, and they both get a little drunk, and Abel’s trying to teach Lestat how to ask for directions from the dock, and Lestat just - - looks at him. Looks at this man he’s spent the last four weeks with, looks at the man who’s taught him this language of doorknobs and obscenities, and he meant it when he said it was all he ever wanted, and he thinks - -

Well.

Lestat doesn’t think. No. Lestat put a hand on Abel’s knee, and slides it up, inch, by honest, tender inch.

And Abel looks at him, and Lestat can see how tight his throat is, can hear his rabbit heart, can see his pants, too quickly straining, and Abel exhales, but he doesn’t move. Lets Lestat slide his hand further up, lets him rise from his seat, lets Lestat swing a thin leg over his hips, but doesn’t touch him, even as Lestat leans down to softly kiss his chapped lips.

“Our last night together, mon cher,” Lestat whispers, looking at Abel through his lashes as the other man’s eyes darken. “Won’t you take me to bed?”

And he feels it, Abel swallow, feels it even more when Abel brings a hand up to skim Lestat’s hip, dropping it away almost before Lestat can realise it. He shakes his head, tries for a joke, tilting his head at Lestat’s crate.

“Don’t know if you can call that a bed,” he says, and Lestat tilts his head back towards him, feels his own heart start to hammer at Abel’s sad, craggy face. So generous, his seafarer, his teacher, and tonight, his lover.

And Lestat climbs off him. Strips off his clothes, watching as Abel’s gaze darts up, looks away, back up, away, as Lestat climbs over the wall of it. A little breathless now that he’s nude, just like he was - - no. Stop. And he closes his eyes as he lifts a hand, sucks on his fingers, wetting them with spit, and he knows he wants this. Knows he wants it so much, that he misses being so lovingly filled, even if there are memories pacing at the wall of his consciousness, and he spreads his trembling legs, when suddenly his hand is pulled out of his mouth and his fingers are doused wetly, and Lestat blinks his eyes open. Looks up to find Abel red-cheeked, watching him, pouring some of the beer on Lestat’s fingers.

“This’ll be - - slicker,” Abel says, voice a little rough, and when Lestat stares, he just shrugs, says softly: “Make it easier.”

And that - - oh. When was the last time Lestat had someone who wanted to treat him softly like this? He wets his lips, cock twitching, chest aching.  

“Will ah - - will you do it for me, monsieur?”

Abel works his mouth, then suddenly nods, dousing his own fingers in beer before climbing into the crate, dropping a hand between Lestat’s legs, pressing a rough finger there. He checks Lestat’s face, and Lestat blinks hard, and Abel rubs, before he breaches him, and oh, it’s slow. All of it. Has to take a half hour for Abel to get three fingers in, him tentative, Lestat tight, but Abel was a patient teacher, and he’s patient here now too, gentler than Lestat can remember anyone ever being with him, and when he finds his prostate, it’s stars atop stars. An eternal splendid heaven that has him breathlessly close to coming on Abel’s patient hand alone, but he doesn’t want that, not now, not with his last night with his seafarer, and he pulls him closer, reaches for his cock, slick with beer, guiding him towards him, and he pushes in, and Lestat won’t close his eyes. Won’t close them to let any face that isn’t the panting, honest, kind one atop him fill his gaze, won’t let anyone claw their way into this moment, because he is in no tower, no church, no tiny apartment, no theater, no, he is here beneath a man who he knows has never set foot in the city that killed him, and Abel looks at him like he can’t quite believe he’s allowed to have him, and Lestat thinks you can, Lestat thinks you can because you waited for me to want you too, because you let me decide, because you gave without expectation, Lestat thinks you would deny yourself wanting me, but I won’t deny you, you can have me, you taught me, and Lestat thinks it’s not right, for someone with skin as rough as this to touch so softly, and he knows he’s weeping as he wraps his legs around Abel’s waist, his arms around his shoulders, as he pulls him in close as his cock buries itself to the hilt, and Abel says:

“You’re alright, you’re alright, love, oh, I don’t know how you’re real,” as he presses chapped lips to the corner of Lestat’s mouth, and Lestat thinks this man has made him real these last weeks. That this, with him, is a soft entry into a new world, and oh, he hopes its one that will be as kind to him as Abel has.  

[speakofthedebbie]

by popular demand (re: one person) some radioapple fic recs!! (i hope thats what you meant lol most of the fics i read are just radioapple)

Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before the Next Angelic War by @miribalis

just yes. thousand times yes. so basically my boy luci has some sleep troubles and that somehow leads to a qpr with al look its been a while ok just read it

Managerial Liberties by the same fella

these two tags explain it pretty well

something that sticks out to me about this is that charlie is actually (reasonably) cold to adam and like. im actually surprised with how little ive seen that. i mean i dont think id be exactly buddy-buddy with my besties killer either. only 3 chaps as of writing but already looking to be a radioapple classic

im not sure if its meant to be read as such but it kinda feels like a squeal to bedtime rituals in a way (edit: not meant to be read as such, just the same vibe)

devils don't fly (don't expect me not to fall) by @corgiss

also just yes. basically a really not cool joke evolves into a blossoming romance because why wouldnt it. (man if i had a nickel for every radioapple fic that had a masquerade that was sabotaged by the vees- *gets shot bc i cant mention osas yet*)

i’ll hold you close (i’ll stay the course) by the same fella

the entire time i was just going "yas king! put that egotistical flatscreen in his place!!". basically luci reminds the overlords who he is and vox shows he can be more of a threat than he lets on.

ykw fuck it just the entire series (i didnt mention i would give anything to not give a shit (but i do) and my perfect rock bottom (my beautiful trauma) because the first one sounded a lil too angsty and ive gotten enough of that from other sources [pointedly glares at Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love {also coming up later!}] and the second is (mostly) smut and ive been trying to step back from that because "ive seen worse" isnt a valid excuse for that torture actually)

Of Saints and Sinners by the forever amazing @morningstarwrites!! (if you see this i have a serious question: is this your first time ever writing a fic? because how do you get so much right the first time- [not even beginners luck could explain this level of skill])

i could sing its praises until my death bed but ill hold off so i can explain whats happening. basically after burning down a meeting room several times, luci and al make a deal ("not a deal!", luci laments to the void): they will attempt to be civil and maybe even friendly, and by the end luci will owe al a favour. whats the favour? read it yourself dammit! seriously, 10/10, i am foaming at the mouth till friday (depending on how this goes, that might be tomorrow or today)

Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love by Starlit_Rainfall (no tumblr in sight, so AO3) (i. urgfgh. what happened. i was just smiling over the fluff while crossing to go to school. where did it go. where did it gooooo)

if thats anything to go by, the last few chapters have been rough. the fluff feels so far away that i cant even explain what happens. luci was waxing poetic about swimming in maple syrup for al, i remember that much. also emily is there (fallen) tho we havent seen her in a sec. if you read it, warning for the gut punch of angst that starts chap 32 "She/Her" (though the chapter before that, "Should Alastor Know By Now?" ends pretty rough too)

Freely We Serve by @romanaxe

i dont remember how i managed to stumble upon this but im having a great time. basically alastor is a new sinner fresh in hell (but time doesnt matter and the whole cast is still here) and thinks "what better way to gain power than be the personal assistant of the heartbroken king of hell!" features a 6(?) year old charlie and a morally dubious lilith (also i loved eepy al X3)

A Family Forged in Hellfire by Green_Ghostwriter (once again, no Tumblr, so AO3)

this ones a bit newer (10 chaps), is so far mostly exposition and the slowburn pot hasnt even been put on the stove, but as just a hazbin fic in general i see the potential. basically its a 1920s au where heaven decides little charlie doesnt deserve to be raised in hell and is sent to earth with a "foster" family where her actions in life will determine witch realm she will return to after death. her "parents", al and minzy, are given false memories so they can claim the girl as their own and gee i wasnt kidding when i said it was a lot of exposition. erm honestly explaining anymore would tech be spoiling so go read it!

The Red Thread That Binds Us by @scun-gilli

{{future me prefacing this by saying i have no idea where i was going with yesterdays thought process, all you need to know from it was im on chapter 27. also scungilli your comment is making me very worried 😟 well theres no mcd tag so im sure itll fine, right? RIGHT, SCUNGILLI??}}

basically its a king x kings guard au where al and luci grow up together and only grow closer after a. certain life event for al (its fine guys trust :)) [she said, like a liar]) then al is sent of for royal guard training school (ik its not called that i forgor 😭) but dw he comes back. just watch out for graphic depictions of injuries (i think thats this fic) angst and a sneaky eve bc radioapple fics are allergic to happiness (or maybe im not looking hard enough lol) (also im really tempted to make the friendship bracelets they had 👀)

somewhere down the line by kj_crwm (AO3 link)

this one starts off as human!alastor/lucifer but by the middle(?) its just regular radioapple. basically al is encountered by luci while finishing off a job who agrees to keep quiet. luci just keeps on showing up, reveals hes the devil to which al us just like "lol ok" and eventually they get in a relationship (ooh lala 👀) but they break up after saying some hurtful things to each other (oh nono 👀) with luci promising al they will never cross paths again. if you watched the show then well. you know that doesnt happen 😂 most human!al radioapple have al summon him (no hate to them) so this was an interesting change of pace

cannot stress it enough but this is a WORKING list i WILL be coming back to it bc these are purely the fics i could think if off the top of my head. IN FACT, if any of you have radioapple fics you love, SEND THEM THE FUCK IN! i am one person whos only been in this fandom for 4 months, and reading fics/shipping radioapple even less, theres bound to be some ones i missed that you think are Worthy™️! and if theyre nsfw then at the very least it shouldnt be the main focus

EDIT: so sorry anyone who reblogged this before had to see the disgusting unedited version. literally just found out that tumblr doesnt apply edits to reblogs. what the fuck

[the-himawari]

A3! Sumeragi Tenma - Translation [SR] Bright Star of Blooming (2/2)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Yuki: I’m glad we finished the talk show without a hitch.

Misumi: It was tons of fun chatting about the show~!

Kumon: The story about Tenma-san getting lost was a huge hit!

Tenma: That’s a weird point to get riled up about.

Izumi: Tenma-kun, can I ask you to take the polaroid photo now?

Tenma: Sure. We’re supposed to make a heart pose, right?

Izumi: Yep, exactly. It’s to express all your gratitude to everyone who’s always supporting you.

Tenma: I see. You got it.

Izumi: Okay, I’m taking it. Say cheese!

*click*

Misumi: It’s a cheek heart~!

Kumon: You’re cool as hell, Tenma-san~!

Yuki: …Well, nothing’s wrong with a classic.

Tenma: Why does that sound like a jab!?

*dream starts*

Tenma: (…Ngh?) (Where… is this? This is definitely does not look like the dorm’s ceiling…)

Alibaba: …Oh, you’re awake now?

Tenma: !? (—Alibaba!?)

Alibaba: Woah, easy there. Are you alright to be getting up so suddenly? You were sleeping so soundly just a moment ago like you had listened to one of Scheherazade’s bedtime stories.

Tenma: (I see… so this is Alibaba’s house. And I assume this is the world from “Water me!!”.) (…This is probably a dream then, huh?) (That being said—)

Tenma: Um… why am I here?

Alibaba: You don’t remember? I rescued you in the street when you couldn't move since you were being surrounded by townspeople. But then they started chasing after us, so I decided to hide you in my house for the time being—. As soon as we arrived, you suddenly said you felt sleepy. You’ve been fast asleep ever since.

Tenma: (I have absolutely no recollection of that. I mean, we’re in a dream, so I guess I didn’t actually experience it… so that’s what we're working with here, huh?)

Alibaba: Those folks had a keen interest in your clothes. If you stayed there, they would’ve stripped you of everything you had.

Tenma: I see… I guess you're right. In any case, thanks for saving me. And sorry… for falling asleep after you let me into your home.

Alibaba: Don’t sweat it. You were only asleep for about 10 minutes—. And Scheherazade… my wife was out too, so the timing worked out.

Tenma: (As I thought, Scheherazade is here too… It feels kind of fresh hearing him call her his wife.)

Alibaba: Well, I see why they were interested though. You don’t see the clothes you’re wearing around here.

Tenma: Ahh… I came here from a different country.

Alibaba: That makes sense. The roads here are complicated and it’s easy to get lost. Tourists better be careful.

Tenma: I-I’ll be fine! I won’t get lost.

Alibaba: …That’s good to hear. … By the way, I have something I’d like to ask you… you see…

Tenma: What is it?

Alibaba: Does your country… have a legendary paradise oasis?

Tenma: —! Pfft…

Alibaba: Hey! Why are you laughing!?

Tenma: No… sorry about that. (Alibaba’s still the same as always.) I’m not sure… But I can’t say for certain there isn’t one.

Alibaba: For real!?

Tenma: Yeah. I hope you’ll come visit my country one day. If you do, I’ll show you around.

Alibaba: Sounds great. I’ll ask you when the time comes then. I’m Alibaba. What’s your name?

Tenma: …Sumeragi Tenma. I’m the man who’s going to sweep all the best male actor awards in the world—.

*dream ends*

Tenma: —! (…So I finally woke up? I’m glad I don’t see the ceiling in Alibaba’s house anymore). … (I have to admit it was a pretty interesting dream getting to meet and talk with Alibaba.) (It’s a shame that I woke up right before we shook hands at the end. But next time I'll win the best male actor award…) (And once I’ve become an even more famous actor than before, I hope I can meet him in my dream again and proudly re-introduce myself.) That being said, that’s kind of like meeting myself though. Actually, does he even know what a best male actor award is…?

Yuki: …What are you doing talking to yourself?

Tenma: Gah… since when were you here!?

Yuki: I’ve been here the whole time. You suddenly started reaching out your hand even though you were asleep. I figured you must be dreaming, but I see you're still dwelling over it after you woke up.

Tenma: There’s nothing wrong with that!

Yuki: So? What kind of dream was it?

Tenma: …It was nothing, okay?

Yuki: Oh, was it a dream that you can’t tell anyone else about or something?

Tenma: What kind of dream would that be!?

Yuki: You tell me. People get curious if you hide it, you know?

Tenma: I’m not trying to hide anything… But it was a good dream.

---

previous |

[brailsthesmolgurl]

“Wake up”

Preview: How the boys usually wake up, either on their own or with you by their side.

Zayne

“What time would you like to meet tomorrow?” He is the type to set only ONE alarm the night before. Even if he has less than 8 hours of sleep, he would still get out from bed the moment the alarm rings. He is a very disciplined man given his profession and he is probably used to working 24 hour shifts during hospital overload seasons. When staying alone, Zayne is very much the early bird. He likes to wake up an hour early prior to get ready for any plans he has for the rest of the day. Even on the days when he is not required to be at the hospital, he would much prefer waking up to his daily dose of Vitamin D and enjoying the breaths of fresh morning air. A little light workout in the morning never hurts for this doctor to keep himself in shape as well.

When he is with you, he might laze in a little more. “It’s alright, you should rest more.” He would say something along these lines, running his large palms from the top of your head and down your back, soothing your warm skin with his icy touch. He enjoys waking up earlier than you sometimes and just watch your undulating breaths as you dreamed. If he is lucky, he might catch you sleeptalking and might record your voice on his phone so he could ask you what you were dreaming of just a while ago. He would never wake you up against your will. A little twist of your lips or a little frown would get him to back off immediately, not wanting to ruin such a peaceful moment of yours when for most of the days, he can only get to deal with your hyped personality. “Sweet dreams my angel.”

Xavier

Never really the one to be waking up from his dreamscape. When he is within the solidarity of his own home, he would sleep whenever he pleases. Morning or night, daylight or moonlight, he does not care. He can practically sleep anywhere; sleeping while reading at his balcony, sleeping right next to his dirty dish after he had finished eating on the countertop, sleeping right when he is about to finish his business on the loo. The possibilities of waking him up are endless as Xavier is such a sleepy boy. Funnily enough, he has a guilty pleasure for his sleeping routine on those sleepless nights. He will never admit to the fact he enjoys listening to Mukbang ASMR until his YouTube search history reveals otherwise.

However, if you happen to be with him, no doubt you are going to be the early bird. Dazed, you would watch him sleep sometimes and realise that even when he was asleep, he twitches ever so often and it made you wonder was it because his battle with the wanderer was so tough that it got re-enacted in his dreams as well. But if you tend to wake up, prepare for a lot of lounging around and “I just need a bit more sleep” but with him still ending up dead asleep after a minute. You can shake him, rattle him, shout at him or utilise any other methods, but this boy would wake up for a glance and drift off again if he wishes to. On days with activities planned out, he will always be timely, but the amount of time he takes to get ready will always remain a mystery to you because sometimes it would be as short as 5 minutes and he is ready to go. Perhaps, another time would take more than an hour because he ended up falling asleep while standing in the shower. “You should stop trying to wake me.”

Rafayel

He is the king of setting alarms for every one minute. This simultaneous alarm situation only applies if he has plans with you. But if it’s for his art exhibitions, or any other activities that does not include you, be prepared to have Thomas charging into his room to drag him out of bed. Rafayel has a specific ringtone set just for you so in case you call him anytime in the night, or while he was quick asleep, he would wake up in an instant to reply you. The ringtone of his is definitely applied to his alarm tone as well because let’s be honest, only you are able to get Rafayel to plan his day with you and for you. Rafayel himself is a light sleeper but on certain situations when he burns the midnight oil for his work, he will give himself the leeway to relax within the embrace of his soft bed.

Being with you would be somewhat different. He might wake up earlier than you sometimes or he might laze in bed later than you sometimes. It depends entirely on his mood or the occasion for the day. “Don’t rush me, the date has to be perfect so of course I am going to take my time in getting ready.” If the both of you have plans, he would weigh the amount of activity and type of activity throughout the day to decide on whether he wakes up 20 minutes prior or 2 hours prior. 20 minutes prior include him having to take his morning shower, brush and blow dry his hair and to change his clothes. While the 2 hours routine involves him soaking himself in a warm bath, styling his hair, shaving his baby-like face, planning his outfit and maybe just having enough time to prepare breakfast in bed for you if you are staying over for the night. “Good morning my love. I made breakfast for you because I kept hearing you muttering eggs in your sleep last night. I made the scrambled the way you like it!”

[lifeonthemurdersim]

"Who kisses the other awake in the morning?"

"Neither. You wake up and he's staring at you."

Oh my god... Could you profundize this? I can't stop reading this, it's so... I am enthrilled. So, so enthrilled.

Thank you so much for this ask! To clarify for those reading, I gave the above answer when answering ship questions for Lawrence x Violet/Reader.

I started explaining further but then I recalled this was actually one of my unused ideas for my GoreKinktober series so I decided to revisit it as a short piece! I hope this gives the elaboration you were looking for! 😊

My Ecosystem Fandom/Universe: Boyfriend To Death Characters/Pairing: Lawrence Oleander x Reader (his POV) AO3 Link(full tags, warnings etc here) Word count: 1,203 words Synopsis: You're used to waking up to Lawrence watching you by now. What you're not so aware of, is why. Author's Note: This prompt is for the 24th but I'm posting on the 1st of November. More about Gorekinktober on my pinned post! Kinktober prompt(s) used: Somnophilia Goretober prompt used: N/A

Lawrence still isn't used to being this close to a living, breathing human for such a prolonged amount of time. It's a heady mix of overwhelming, being that there's just so much of you to take in, and so, so fascinating. A whole little ecosystem, in his bed, in his arms, that he wakes up to every evening.

He can see the vast expanse of beautiful skin cocooning you, enshrouding all those intriguing little organs; all buzzing away carrying out their functions as they're supposed to. Whatever encounter you once had with the river, it was obviously brief enough to leave you wonderfully untouched. You're not rotting like him, you're fresh, you're perfect.

Imagine if all that's inside of there was visible on the outside. It might not last for very long, but for that brief moment, where everything was still ticking but the whole of you was inside out, it would be glorious. He knew you better than anyone else he had ever encountered, so you wouldn't be another art piece discarded in a random stack nor hung clinically in an empty hall. He had passion for you, he loved you, if Lawrence made you art, you would be his masterpiece.

Although he supposed some part of him would like to see the inner workings of your mind, he'd have a little more time to see you functioning if he left your brain untouched. Actually, he thinks he would leave your face intact, too. He likes it exactly as it is, the shape, the features, especially soft when you're sleeping. Even a master artist couldn't improve upon it. Yes, he'd likely leave your entire head be, it's simply too pretty.

The rest though, he'd deconstruct with searing crimson lines, the first hint of the internal you emerging to the external. It would leave him in need of more. You'd need to be opened up all the way so you could be appreciated in every sense. He would slice deeper into your limbs, folding the muscle and sinew open neatly so see more of you, a larger surface area, but also the things that hadn't been seen before.

Then his focus would be your torso, he'd have to cut slowly so each organ was revealed bit by bit, he needed to savour every inch of you, every second of unwrapping you. The excessive length of your intestines would snake around your waist, forming elegant arcs swinging back and forth behind you like wings of an angel.

The liver has a nice texture when you cut into it, soft but with a little pushback. He could carve out slivers and hold them; they'd be like little brown slugs but ones that could never hurt his plants. He could rest them on your slumped shoulders like art. He could carve a firm L into it, a jagged O. His art needs a signature somewhere. The liver almost re-forms around the letters though. Maybe he would have to carve his initials into a few places on you, just to be sure.

The veins and arteries, though, he'd keep attached to your heart, only cutting where he had to. He'd arrange them like spokes, like a sunburst coming out from your chest, measuring the intervals carefully. If he presses a thumb to your wrist, he can feel them, throbbing gently with every beat of your heart. He brushes his hand up your arm slowly, gently, grazing your shoulder.

You shift slightly. Lawrence freezes up. But you don't stir, so he presses a hand to your chest. There it is. Pulsing under your shell. Imagine if those ribs could be cracked open, releasing the softly trilling little bird from its cage. How much firmer and louder would that beat be without those confines alone?

Better still, what if he could reach out and wrap his hand around it, really feel it? Would it be the slow steady beat it sits at while you dream away, or would the actions taken to lead him there render it to a dizzying pace? Would it become too much, too overwhelming? Would he have to squeeze it hard to get it to stop?

Or...

Would it already have fallen silent before he even got that far?

Never to be heard again.

Not just your heartbeat, either. Your soft assurances when he was spiralling. The pitter-patter of your footsteps as you tended to his plants. Your soft moans and whimpers when he was pleasuring you. The charming little rhythm of your laugh. Your loving words. Your voice in general.

Yes, at times just having another person around him was a lot for Lawrence. But having to live without this one specific person he'd become so attached to would be downright unbearable.

The silence would be overwhelming.

You were the only one who'd seen the river, the only one who really understood. This world wasn't real, but he was forced to exist in it until he allowed his body to decay entirely. But having you around made it bearable. More than bearable.

Good.

He absolutely wanted to do it. He wanted you to be his work of art, his best work. But there was too much to risk, so he couldn't. He wouldn't. But sometimes, he really really wants to. He leans a little closer to you, hoping that will stave off the urge, only for your eyes to blink open. You both jump a little. The thumping of your heart under his hand quickens.

"L-Lawrence!" you stutter out, then exhale to try to calm, he feels it in your chest. "I... never get used to you doing that..."

"Oh..." he replies. "...sorry?" He's not sure if he is sorry, but it feels like maybe he's worried you, so he's supposed to say it.

"It's... OK I guess..." you tell him, softening into the hand at your chest a little. You raise both brows at him. "Did watching me sleep... turn you on?" you ask, looking him up and down.

Lawrence looks at you with confusion at first, but then he allows himself to step out of his detached thoughts and actually feel his body. His cheeks are warm; blushing most likely, all his skin is heated and prickling. His heart is racing faster just like yours, but it's not just from you making each other jump, his breathing is deeper than usual. Probably the most evident part to you, there's a very evident bulge in his sweatpants. While he was busy disassociating into fantasies of tearing you open, his body was flooding with arousal.

"Yeah..." he admits a little breathily. "I... guess it did." A slight smile graces your lips. You come closer, the kind that verges on overwhelming, but right now he wants it, your proximity, your touch. You roll him softly onto his back, straddling him.

"It's a good job I woke up then, isn't it?" you ask suggestively as you push his hair back, smiling down at him.

Lawrence thinks of his imagined you, lying bleeding and wide open and lifeless in his mind. Then he looks at the real you, flushed and adoring and very much alive on top of him.

"Yes." he agrees, smiling back. "It really is..."

[linkspooky]

hi Spooky! I just read your meta about Gojo's motivation in the fight and you brought up interesting points.

I thought Gojo was fighting in a way that he's trying to save Megumi, because if Gojo is really trying to eliminate Sukuna for good he would go for the most fatal blow, the brain, he knows that Sukuna can still come back even without heart (lungs and liver)... so I thought Gojo is probably trying to weaken Sukuna to "make room" for Megumi. Even if his facade is "carefree", at first he already warned Sukuna that he won't hold back, he seemed worried when he realized that Megumi is the one that got hit by UV. But now I'm worried about his character growth, is it like he's decreasing? or at least he's not showing something better than the Gojo who killed Toji - teen Gojo; what happened to the Gojo that claims to protect his students' youth and who is supposed to be the "good guy" in this fight...

I still think Gojo is fighting with the belief he can revive Megumi after he takes down Sukuna, but I agree with you anon his attitude towards the fight shows his lack of growth after Toji. Not only does Gojo reference Toji a couple of times like the battle is still fresh on his mind but his emotional state resembles the way he was when he fought Toji post-awakening as the "strongest." It wasn't just a happy-go-lucky facade at that point Gojo stated in his internal narration he wasn't fighting to avenge Riko: it really was just about defeating Toji and using his newfound power to reach his full potential.

It's understandable Gojo reacted that way in the moment though. He's seventeen, and it's probably alienating to have that much power thrust on your shoulders at seventeen. However, Gojo shows a clear lack of progress since that battle. Eleven years have passed since the battle with Toji, and Gojo's kind of trapped there mentally. He's still fighting for the same reasons he fought against Toji. Those lines could be applied to how he feels via Sukuna's possession of Megumi.

"Right now I'm not angry for you. Nor do I feel vengeful toward anyone. Right now, it's just that everything feels right."

Word of god supports this: Gege was asked directly if Gojo matured after the battle with Toji, and Gege explained instead of maturing he left the decision making up to Geto.

This is pretty consistent with Gojo and Geto's foiling with one another. Geto tends to be a deeply self-reflective character almost to a fault. While I'd argue that while Gojo is known by the fandom as the more selfish one, he is oddly someone who doesn't self reflect at all.

We know far more about Geto's internal world and how he sees things because of his internal narration. Honestly, if you compare the short time he's a focus character in Hidden Inventory to the entire rest of the manga Gojo receives a lot less internal dialogue. When Gojo does have internal narration it's almost always just him strategizing for a fight. He doesn't have the same richly developed internal world that Geto has because he doesn't really think or reflect on those things. When he does give insight to himself and his belief it's almost always himself talking aloud to other people.

Which neatly dovetails into my next topic re: Gojo's tendency to mask his true emotions under a light-hearted facade. I think it's inarguable he does that, Gojo was acting happy-go-lucky in front of his students about five minutes after killing Geto. Geto commented in the beach scene in Okinawa that Gojo goofing around on the beach was his way of being considerate to Amanai, and that while pretending to be carefree he'd been exhausting himself keeping the limiitless active for days not even sleeping. Gojo even downplays the burden of that in front of Geto, the one person he allows himself to be vulernable with.

However, I don't think Gojo's tendency to mask his true emotions is because he's crying on the inside during his fight with Megumi and at some point he's going to have an emotional breakdown over it. That interpretation I think comes from the fandom's tendency to woobify Gojo because they want to make him a more relatable and easy to understand character when Gojo is supposed to be alienating and off-putting.

He's an exploration of what being the strongest would due to a person's mind, and how much that would alienate a person from the people around him. Gojo's defined by his inability to relate to others, especially the people he finds as weak so it only makes sense he'd process his emotions in a way that's different from most people.

If people learn and grow and change by their interaction with others, then Gojo who's very cursed technique itself makes it so nobody can ever touch him unless he wants them too does not interact with others and therefore does not change.

It's interesting if you look at things from a budhhist perspective, because there are heavy themes of budhism present in the text of JJK itself. Let's say that Gojo attained enlightenment at seventeen. If he's already enlightened then why would he need to grow any more past that point? The ultimate goal of budhism is to escape the cycle of karma entirely, so from that perspective Gojo untethering himself from the world and earthly concerns and other people is his ideal endpoint.

On the other hand Gojo is like a person living in the world - he eats takeout, goes out drinking with his friends, has a job, pays his taxes. He didn't escape life and worldly concerns, because life went on, he's still living in the world and eleven years has passed since the moment he "attained enlightenment."

If he's already enlightened then he shouldn't need to grow, but considering hes still living in the world you need to grow and change with the world and people around you otherwise you're going to be left behind.

From what we've seen in canon Gojo changed a little bit. His ideals changed in the fact he adopted Geto's sense of responsibility and judgement of good and evil. He also witnessed Geto's fall and lost his friendship which is clearly what influences his current beliefs on wanting to protect the childhood of sorcerers, and that there's something rotten about the Jujutsu Society surrounding him.

I don't mean to say that every change in Gojo's life comes from Geto, but rather Gojo's current sense of beliefs are based around what happened to him in his youth. He wants to protect children because his youth was ruined. If Geto never fell and became a curse user would Gojo see anything wrong with the current system worth rebelling over?

Put better in another better meta here.

Still, my point is that... Gojo simply never cared enough about things like ideology. [...] He tried to internalize Geto’s original values of protecting the weak since he could sense some merit to them, finding joy in entertaining Riko and later his students, but he completely missed the reasoning behind those values. This is why he spouted all those things about not saving/reaching Geto (without having attempted it in the first place) and about becoming a teacher to prevent young sorcerers from missing out on their youth (immediately going to indoctrinate young Megumi into their messed up system as a pretext of saving him from the Zenins. [...] The only way he can empathize with them is by remembering what he himself enjoyed in his youth, that being companionship with his bff and his growing power. And when some of them don’t show interest in that (like poor fucking Megumi) Gojo is simply not interested in exploring alternatives.  To him, it’s not a question of ‘why’, it never was.

Gojo is extreemly self-oriented in all the good and bad that entails. Good because it makes him an extremely strong, and self confident individual that allows him to pursue those ideals (and his ideals are still pretty good) bad because he easily loses sight of other people's feelings.

A gojo who truly changed after the fight with Toji would have reached out to Megumi in an attempt to break the cycle that started with the Zen'ins abuse of TOji. A true example of being the bigger man by going out of his way to help the son of a man who in a lot of ways caused permanent damage to his life and the people around him.

However, that's blatantly not what Gojo did. Once again we have Word of God on this.

Gojo hasn't matured past his mindset of seeing people in terms of "strong and weak" and as a natural extension of that he tends to treat the same kids he's trying to help as assets so he's not living up to his desire to be the responsible adult in their lives. Because he's not really an adult. His growth stopped in the fight with Toji.

Gojo's solution to the problem of Jujutsu Society's use of child soldiers and treating children as expendable is... to create stronger child soldiers. I don't think Gojo does this maliciously, it's just he has no self-awareness whatsoever. He is Jujutsu Society's ideal and constantly praised as such and because of that can't see the flaws in his own ideology and actions. That's also the way Gojo was raised, pushed to be the strongest and to build his entire life and self-worth around being the strongest he can be. People who lack self-awareness tend to unsconiously recreate the circumstances under which they were raised because it's familiar to them. Do unto others what was done unto you.

To return to my original topic though Gojo has a tendency to make his true emotions but I don't think it's done because he's secretly crying on the inside.

I think Gojo's complete lack of reaction to Nanami's death was his genuine reaction. He's not putting on a brave face or anything. He probably does care that Nanami died, but this is just how Gojo processes his emotions. I also think there's a couple of times where Gojo is disturbed during the fight against Megumi such as when Sukuna used Megumi as a shield for the limitless, but at the same time he's clearly having the time of his life with this fight.

I don't think he's faking that. He shouldn't really be enjoying this battle because there are simply more important things right now than whether or not Gojo finally gets to have fun in a fight and be challenged against someone who's his equal - but apparently Gojo didn't get that memo.

Gojo is probably masking his emotions to some extent, but there's a difference between text (what is stated) and subtext (what is not stated and instead relies on reader interpretation). Gojo visibly enjoying himself in the fight is direct text. Gojo announces out loud that he has no problem beating up Megumi, the narration tells us that Gojo is feeling deeply satisfied with this fight.

While characters do sometimes hide their feelings and lie, and narrators are sometimes reliable, subtext is still an interpretation and it doesn't trump what is directly stated by the work.

The text has already told us directly that number one Gojo doesn't feel any hesitation to fight Megumi, and number two Gojo's first priority is winning and his second priority is worrying about Megumi.

Anything that contradicts that is fandom interpretation of the text. I don't think Gege is trying to pull a fast one or unreliable narrator trick here. Gege has always been blatantly honest about Gojo's flaws as a character, hence why I constantly cite his responses in interviews.

I think it's Gege's intention here to show us how Gojo's priorities are eschewed. You can make an argument that Gojo has to worry about defeating Sukuna first above everything else because of utiliarian reasons. If he loses here then everyone else dies. He may have to sacrifice Megumi to stop Sukuna from killing anyone else.

However, those utilitarian reasons are in direct opposition to Gojo's ideals. Gojo wants to create a world where children aren't sacrificed for the common good. In Gojo's ideals chidlren shouldn't be sarificed for adults, but rather it's adults who should protect children so they can live out their youths. If Gojo fails to protect Megumi here he's going back on everything he supposedly stands for.

So while you can make an argument pragmatically Gojo has to worry about winning the fight first. Idealistically he should be fighting to save Megumi, not to win against Sukuna. However, he's not doing that. By having him care more about the fight itself then Megumi, it shows that Gojo's pragmatism often is in conflict with his own idealism. Which is something we've always known about his character. He wants to help kids but at the same time he's using them as tools to further his own agenda.

Again a lot of Gojo's flaws arise from his own lack of self-awareness. Gojo does conceal his own emotions a lot, but I don't think he's hiding a crying child inside. Instead it's more like he's so alienated from both the people around him and his own emotions that he can't process them or self reflect.

Gojo is blind in a lot of ways, like it's made clear by Shoko that Gojo's isolation doesn't just come from being the strongest. There are people around him actively trying to connect with him and Gojo just kind of ignores them because he's too caught up in the idea that only someone like Geto who was as strong as he was could ever understand him.

Gojo doesn't show his own emotions or make deep emotional connections with others because he probably doesn't understand those emotions himself. He's not only alienated himself from the people around him, but he's alienated himself from his own feelings to such an extent that even when he does care it's difficult for him to show it.

[21slurp-blog]

ellie during finals Drabble 🍒💋🪩

ellie Williams x fem!reader

warnings - fingering (r!receiving), cum eating, pet names (baby, pretty girl), genuinely think that’s all but lmk if you spot any.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Mush. That’s what your brain was at this point. Literal mush. You’d re-read the same sentence about genetic mutations three times and nothing was going in. You huff in frustration and put your pen down, your hands meeting your temple to attempt to relieve some tension.

After five minutes of staring at the random smudge on your desk you can hear a knock at your door. With a groan you stand up to answer it, trudging with every step until you open the door.

“hi baby”. It was ellie. You feel all the stress drain from your body as you immediately wrap your arms around her, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. All she does it smile and place a gentle kiss to the top of you’re head.

Once you’ve dragged her inside and made her listen to your fifteen minute rant about how studying is useless and you want to drop out to become a runaway criminal she speaks a quiet - “i could…make you feel better”. The small smirk she has on her face as she says it makes wetness pool in your panties, looking up with a pouty gaze and a small nod.

“words. use em” she says sternly. You feel the heat burn your cheeks. “Need you to make me feel good ellie. Please”, and that she does.

She smirks and attacks your lips with her own, ringed fingers slivering under your shirt, gasping from the cold metal against your nipple. She rolls the sensitive pink bud between her fingers, making you squirm and your panties get impossible wetter. “Fuck- please Els no teasing, need you-“ you mumble. It’s almost pitiful.

Ellie decides not to tease you. You’re stressed and clearly you need this. The same cold hand travels down your stomach and slips into your sleep shorts, fingers slipping through your folds. “Fuuuck..so wet n’I’ve barely touched you yet”, you can only whimper in response. Her middle and ring fingers dive into you, curling up and hitting that sweet spot that makes you see stars every time. You moan so hard you think you’ll lose your voice when Ellie’s thumb traces small circles on your clit.

She sucks and bites at your neck as she speeds up the pace, fingers plunging into you at an ungodly speed. “M’gonna- m’gonna cum Els-“ you babble, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Cum for me pretty girl”, and you do. Harder than you ever have.

She lets you ride out your high before slowly removing her fingers and shamelessly popping them in her mouth, sucking every inch of your slick off them. You giggle out of embarrassment and she kisses your head, leaving and returning shortly with a wet rag to clean you. You hiss at the cold feeling on your sensitive cunt and she coos praises “I know baby. You did so well for me..”. She puts a fresh pair of panties on you and brings your head to her chest, your eyes growing heavier and beaver. “Mm love you Els” you mumble tiredly.

“Love you too baby”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

a/n - HOPE YOU LIKE IT AHHH

[karespocketboyfriends]

𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙳𝚘𝚠𝚗

Sylus X Evie (OC)

Warnings -> Humour, mentions of murder, Sylus getting his ass slapped, gets the tiniest bit suggestive at the end, situationship dynamic

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

I’m going to die today.

I can picture my final resting place now; a six foot hole in the ground with fresh dirt on top, a bouquet of my favourite flowers and a tombstone that reads:

‘Here lies Evie. Dead because she was dared to slap the boss of Onychinus’ ass.’

If I had more time, I would have studied black magic to make sure Luke and Kieran go out with me. But I don’t have more time, not when the re-release of one of my favourite smutty books is on the horizon with an exclusive and very limited cover.

Clearly, I value books more than my own life.

“You’re quieter than usual tonight.”

I jump at the voice, head snapping towards Sylus sitting in the driver’s seat of his car. One of several cars he owns. He isn’t looking at me, scarlet eyes fixated on the road ahead as he drives at the N109 Zone’s speed limit. In other words, faster than Linkon’s law actually allows.

“It’s nothing.” I deflect his observation as casually as I can manage. I turn my eyes to look out the front window, not wanting to risk making eye contact with him should he happen to glance at me, but also not wanting to turn away completely and raise suspicion. “I stayed up later then I should have, that’s all.”

Working for Onychinus has completely warped my sleep schedule. My patterns used to be that of a normal person, awake during the day and asleep at night, but now I’m active beneath both the sun and moon. Instead of sleeping straight through one cycle phase, I’ve learned to split my rest in two. Sunrise and sunset are my resting hours now, with daylight my free time and overnight my work hours.

Sylus hums, and the sound vibrates in my gut. I love hate the way it feels. “Reading again?”

I did fit in more reading time where I should have been asleep, but that wasn’t the cause of my hesitation to start a conversation. “Am I that predictable?”

“Painfully so.” He turns onto the street that leads to the base. “I am, after all, aware of your particular taste in novels.”

My face burns hot, much so that I cross my arms and dig my nails into my skin. “That isn’t the only genre I read. I keep more tame stuff at home.”

He snickers. “I’m sure.”

Minutes later, we arrive. I follow half a step behind Sylus as we navigate the base, the both of us headed in the same direction. My office is in his personal wing, where it has been since I got hired a year and a half ago. To this day, I still haven’t been able to get a clear answer as to why he put me so close to him. On a professional level it makes sense, being his personal assistant and all, but given the nature of his work… it seems odd to place an absolute stranger right outside your door.

Though, I’m not exactly much of a threat. I doubt a man like Sylus sees much harm in a woman whose only weapon is a pencil with a pointy end.

“Take the rest of the night off.” Sylus breaks the silence as we turn down the hallway leading to his wing.

Stunned, I come to a stop. Sylus carries on without looking back, his footsteps alone echoing off the walls. He gets a several strides ahead before I’m jogging to catch up. “But, the notes from the meeting today need to be-”

He grabs the handle of the door that leads to his private quarters, and he finally turns his head to look down at me. Not in the sense that I’m below him, but literally has to look down. “If you’re too tired to interrupt my peace and quiet the way you normally do, then you’re useless tonight.”

I huff and cross my arms. “You make me sound like someone who never shuts up.”

One corner of his mouth curls up. “Are you not aware of how noisy you are, kitten? That’s an order.”

I clamp my mouth shut to keep any witty remarks inside. Sylus waits a moment, and when he’s satisfied that I won’t argue, turns the handle and pushes open the door.

That’s when I realize that if I don’t strike now, I’ll never have a chance to do so again. The boss’ guard is down, the hallway is empty, and several escape routes are available.

Should I go light? No, better to stun him and buy myself several seconds of precious time.

Sylus makes it half a stride through the door before my hand connects with his ass, the resounding slap like a grenade in the silence.

Then I’m flying back the way we came, fleeing for my life and the exclusive book cover I’m so desperate to get my hands on. “Sorry, Sir!”

I whip around the corner, going so fast I almost crash right into Luke and Kieran. They jump to the side, pressing their backs against opposite walls and clearing the way for me to get by.

Luke cackles beneath his crow mask. “Where’s the fire, Evie?”

“I better get a signed copy, you doorknobs!”

I’m racing around the next corner seconds before their howling laughter turns into strangled yelps. My heart sinks. He’s catching up, and he’s catching up fast.

I throw myself into the closest supply closet without thinking, barricading the door with a gun rack and ducking behind a shelf of random things that I make a mental note to sort through at some point in the future. Assuming I even live to see the future.

I throw my hands over my nose and mouth to muffle my breathing when footsteps draw near. I stare through a gap between the shelves, watching the light beneath the door. A prayer my grandmother used to recite comes to mind as footsteps drew near, two points of shadow obstructing the light.

The footsteps fall silent. Neither of the shadows move.

‘Please no, please no, please no, please no, please no.’

The shadows move and the footsteps start again, the sound becoming distant until they disappear completely.

Dropping my hands, I let out the quietest sigh of relief I can manage. I’m not brave enough to risk sneaking out now, not when Sylus is still on the prowl. I’ll stay hidden in here until sunrise if I have to.

Getting comfy on the floor, I fish my phone from my back pocket. The clock reads 11:48 PM.

‘I won.’

Three hours go by. Pain attacks my spine when I finally straighten myself out, fingers numb from holding my phone and battery percentage in the red zone. I started and finished an entire book on my reading app in the time I’ve been hiding here.

No one has passed by the closet since I first jumped in here. If it was Sylus who briefly stopped outside the door, he hasn’t come back yet. Either he was still lingering somewhere in the base, or he stepped out.

Waiting till sunrise to make an escape no longer feels doable. Not if I still want to have any kind of feeling in my body.

Tucking my phone away, I uncross my legs and bite back a cry at the pins and needles feeling that shoots up them. I mentally curse out Luke and Kieran as I grit my teeth through the attack. It feels like forever before the numbness finally fades and I can stand without feeling like my legs are going to give out from under me.

The stupid wheels on the gun rack screech obnoxiously as I push it aside. Then the hinges on the door shriek as I slowly crack the closet open. Both ends of the hallway are clear, and a quick glance at the ceiling doesn’t reveal any sign of Mephisto.

I’m clear. Hopefully. I get going before that changes.

I make it halfway down the hall when something drifting from the ceiling catches my attention. It’s a black feather, and it sets my internal alarm off and has me making another scan for the mechanical crow. I still don’t see him.

The feather floats down in front of me, and my curiosity wins. My hand seems to reach out all on its own to grab it. The second my fingers brush against the soft feather, it disintegrates into black and red mist.

‘Oh fu-’

My wrist is suddenly caught in an iron grip, a pair of crimson eyes narrow, tempting lips set in a firm line. I don’t even think to run.

Instead, I blink up at him. “Hello, Sir.”

“Evie.” My name is flat on his tongue.

“About earlier,” I put on the most innocent smile in my arsenal. “It was Luke and Kieran’s idea. Punish them, not me.”

“Oh, they’ve already received what they’re owed.” He pulls my wrist until I bump into his chest. “Now, what do you think you’re owed for that little surprise?”

“Forgiveness?” Noticing the thin chain on his collar was undone, I fix it for him. “You know, Sir, I think it would be good for you to practice leaving yesterday’s grudges in the past. A handsome face like yours should eliminate as many causes of stress as possible to prevent faster aging.”

He raises a brow, not at all looking convinced. “Is that how it works?”

I nod. “There has been research done. If you let me live, I can have a full report on your desk by tomorrow night.”

Sylus hums as if considering it. Then, miraculously, he lets me go. “Leave yesterday’s grudges in the past, is it? Perhaps you’re right.” He turns to the side and lifts an arm as if to say ‘go ahead’. “Enjoy the rest of your night off, Evie.”

‘I’m so dead.’

I don’t turn my back to him. In fact, I walk backwards while holding eye contact with him, the amused smile on his face a mask for something more lethal. It’s only when I’m forced to turn a corner that I let him out of my sight.

My steps and quick and paranoid, the base seeming to stretch on endlessly before I finally make it to the exit. Then I actually make it outside, the full moon and cool air welcoming me in celebration of my survival.

“Huh.” I cross my arms and pinch my chin between my thumb and index finger. “I can’t believe I actually got away with-”

Something slaps against my ass with a swift, sharp strike. I jump in surprise, a startled yelp forcing itself free from my throat. Eyes wide, I whirl around to find Sylus smirking down at me with one hand casually tucked in his pocket, the other hanging at his side.

“Sir!” I exclaim, rubbing the spot he hit. It was tingling, though I can’t say if it’s from the slap or the knowledge that it was him who touched me. “What happened to leaving yesterday’s grudges in the past?!”

“You’re so naive, kitten. For a man who is more active at night, ‘yesterday’ is still today.” He closes the distance between us and leans down until his lips are at my ear. “Pull a stunt like that again, and I’ll bind your wrists until you’re begging me to set you free. Do you understand?”

My breath hitches. That’s not a threat, it’s a promise. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He nips my earlobe before pulling away. “The driver will take you home.”

Even after he disappears back inside, I’m still staring at the door, my heart hammering and cheeks burning. Is a book cover really worth what I put myself through tonight?

My phone buzzed with a message. It’s from Kieran, showing proof that they held up their end of the bargain. Not only did they get their hands on the exclusive cover, but they got it signed.

‘Totally worth it.’

SFW Masterlist

Tag List:

@softlycandescent @goat-mama-breezie

[justsome-di]

Brief Character Intro and Excerpt!

My project, Angel, is in-progress! I think I've re-written the same five chapters like four times now. But I did make some progress tonight! I've also decided to make this project first-person, present tense... so we'll see how that goes.

I provided a few slides of my wip intro slides for context. For further context: this part comes right after Angel drinks himself sick at a party. Kai is the leader of the group and the oldest--hence, very protective of Angel.

--

Hours later, the bright, red lights of the alarm clock on my nightstand read 5:06 am and causes a splitting pain through my head. I feel sick again but not in the immediate way like at the club. My stomach burns. My heart is racing. My mouth feels like something crawled inside of it and died. I’m lying in damp bedsheets, wet from my own sweat.

For a few seconds, I don’t know where I am. But I feel the cold blast of the air conditioner on my face, and I hear sheets ruffling next to me. The overly-starched sheets scrape against each other. And I remember the hotel, the night of drinking, vomiting in some bougie bathroom, and Kai in bed with me.

There’s a glass of room-temperature water by my head. I grab it with my heavy hand and gulp it down. When it’s gone, I wish there were more, but I have no energy or coordination to get up and refill it.

I roll over, then, hoping I can fall back asleep until the rest of the alcohol is out of my system. I find a dry patch of bed next to Kai.

I press into Kai’s side and lay my head on his shoulder. He always runs warm, and I curl into his heat to take refuge from the air conditioner.

Only a few years ago, Kai and I shared a bed all the time. Whenever I was homesick or emotionally beat from work or when there were just not enough beds for all five of us when traveling, he bunked with me with no comment. He never minded being kicked or punch or cuddled through the night.

Like instinct, in his sleep, Kai wraps an arm around me.

Once, when we were crammed into a small bed in a shady hotel on our first tour around Cadapor, Kai had held me tight all night. He pushed a chair against the door, wedging it underneath the doorknob. I fell asleep tucked into Kai’s chest with his arm over me and holding my hand.

I was only 14 at the time. Kai was about to turn 21. The seven-year age difference meant Kai had a solid six inches on me and a good 30 pounds. Back then, nothing felt more safe than having Kai protect me from rolling off the bed and shielding me from whatever or whoever could break in through the door. He felt big and safe, and I genuinely thought back then that nothing bad would happen to me as long as he was there.

My eyes adjust to the darkness in my current hotel room, and I can see shadows and outlines of the tall, oak furniture and high walls around me. It’s an actual bedroom. Nothing shady. No chairs shoved under doorknobs. No loud footsteps or shouting coming from the halls.

Attached behind the double doors in the corner is the rest of the suite. I know there’s plush furniture, new carpets, antique chairs. A large window that overlooks the entire city. There was complimentary champagne that we drank the night before and a fridge full of our requested foods. I had asked for fresh fruit and chocolate. I got waxy apples and too-sweet melons and chocolate that tasted like old dog vomit. I had pouted for an hour before Ste popped the champagne.

And turning another corner in the suite, Cas, Miga, and Ste are sleeping in their own beds. Kai’s room will be empty. One suitcase not even unpacked (because what’s the point of unpacking for 48 hours?) and a made bed.

The charge for this suite for one night is more than an entire month’s rent when we were younger and trying to cram into a small apartment together.

I blink and blink and blink and pinch myself to make sure this isn’t all a dream.

The past five years have felt like I’ve lived in two different universes. Starting out poor and performing at a tourist trap and becoming one of the most famous men on the planet gives me whiplash. Sometimes I forget the old version of myself. Skye seems like a different person from Angel. Smaller, talented but not a star, and scrappy as fuck.

Angel buys fancy smoothies and sits on a walled-in terrace to drink coffee in the morning because paparazzi have been sitting at Skye’s favorite beach spot for the past four years. Angel is driven to rehearsals because driving is unsafe, and he never had time for driving lessons anyways.

I wonder sometimes if Skye is still out there somewhere. If he found a job delivering fruit or renting bikes to tourists. I hope he’s happy if he did split apart from me at some point. I hope he’s at the beach every day, and I hope he has one of those cheap apartments along the coast that are prone to flooding and need evacuating during storms. It only took three minutes to walk to the shore from those apartments, and Skye thought that that was worth the water-warped floors and midnight evacuation sirens.

Wherever Skye is, it doesn’t matter because I’m in L.A. in bed with Kai, and I’m focusing on that to get through the night. I close my eyes again, and I listen to Kai’s breathing and his light snoring.

I lie there for a while before sleep comes again. I spend the time rubbing Kai’s shirt between my fingers. It’s an old tour shirt of ours. It’s too big, and it’s thin now, the fabric over-washed and stretched. But Kai doesn’t get rid of old things like that. He can hold onto everything, finding a perfect place for it all. From apartment to apartment to mansion, he’s never lost anything.

I’m too afraid to look at the clock again. I don’t want to see how much time is passing and how much sleep I’m losing. But eventually, my body does start to feel heavy again. I can close my eyes, and I can settle against the hard mattress and Kai’s toned bicep, and I can finally, again, sleep.