#Somnolent au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollyyun · 2 months ago

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VIDEO CALL ✧ L.HS

SYNOPSIS ✧ you’ve been missing your boyfriend a little too much, yearning him to return to your arms, but you need him more than ever. seeing how desperately you crave him, he offers a solution that eventually leads to the two of you having video sex.

PAIRING ✧ idol bf!heeseung x fem reader GENRE ✧ idol au, soft and sappy in the beginning, fluffs, soft love, loverboy heeseung, little (none) plot, heeseung is in love WARNINGS ✧ reader whines a lot, reader is so fucking needy (i know i am), video call sex, masturbations, fingering, clit stimulation, mild degradation, uses of dildo, orgasms, dirty talks, praise kink, daddy kink, idk what else WORD COUNT✧ 9.4K

A/N ✧ idk how to write a good video call smut (or a good smut in general) but idc bc i HAD to get this out of my system and i enjoyed writing it since i’ve been going insane in oomf’s dm about this weverse live heeseung specifically. oomf told me how i was really down bad for this heeseung and the way he made me so needy for him plsplspls I NEED HIM SO BAD IT ACHES- anyways, this was supposed to be a drabble but i got carried away. enjoy this light and fun fic :3 or don’t.

NEXT PART | SERIES MASTERLIST

The thumping of your heart amplifies as soon as his handsome face appears on your phone screen. His hair looks slightly dishevelled, and he is still adorned in the same sweater he was wearing three hours ago when he was doing a Weverse live. God, he looks so good. But a frown slowly pulls at the corners of your lips as you notice a fleeting somnolence in the weight of his hanging eyelids.

“Hey, baby.” Heeseung greets you affectionately while your heart flutters at the boyish grin on his face, but his raw, husky timbre sends the familiar signals to your throbbing clit that has been yearning for his touch. You squeeze your thighs together, suppressing the arousal that throbs unrelentingly in your bundle of nerves.

“Hi.” You reciprocate shyly with a small smile, your soft voice a mellow to his ears. His eyes darken, narrowing slightly at your bottom lip being tucked in between your teeth, prompting him to stifle a groan while his cock beneath the slacks hardened at the harmless action. Shit, not now. He mentally scolds his own cock. But God, he so badly wants to kiss your lips.

Oblivious to his struggle, you feel the guilt tugging at your heartstrings as you know that he must’ve been asleep before this, considering the timezone he is currently at, whereas it is still early for you to call it a night.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” You ask, your eyes turning crestfallen. You never want to be a clingy girlfriend, nor do you want to disappoint Heeseung in any way because you are aware of how much he appreciates you for being incredibly understanding of this aspect of his career, but this time, you couldn’t hold back any longer, needing him more than ever despite video calling him just yesterday.

Heeseung chuckles breathily as he runs his fingers through his hair, the sound being enough to make the butterflies swarm in your tummy. “Nah, you didn’t. I wasn’t even sleeping.” His attempt at reassuring you fails when he tries to stifle a yawn.

“You’re a bad liar.” You remark, eyeing him disapprovingly while the guilt is twisting painfully at your heartstrings. Maybe you shouldn’t have disturbed your boyfriend and allowed him to have some time of his own, considering he had to perform for the tour concert for two constructive days.

But little do you know that there is an entirely different reason why he looks a tad weary — he was jerking off to every deliciously sinful thought of the things he wanted to do to you before he took a nap — but you didn’t need to know that. Besides, despite being in a relationship for three years, the two of you have never once crossed the boundaries of being that level of sensual intimacy. Sure, he had sex with you every so often whenever he wasn’t needed at his line of work, but there has always been this unspoken boundary that the two of you never dared to cross for some reason. Maybe it has to do with you being incredibly shy when it comes to being more upfront about such salacious matters.

“Well, I couldn’t just ignore an incoming call from my gorgeous girl.” Heeseung casts you a smirk, knowing that you get all shy whenever he praises you, to which you always cover up with a rather cutieful scowl in his eyes. His features slowly soften as he seems to examine you, his eyes practically sparkling with a familiar adoration. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You automatically scrunch up your nose, feeling dubious over his ever-flattering compliment. “What are you talking about? I’m only wearing my comfy home clothes.” You say as you look down at your attire. You’re only sporting a hoodie, his hoodie specifically, and elastic waistband shorts that reach way above your thighs.

“I’m not talking about your clothes, baby. It’s your face. God, if only I get to wake up to this view every day.” You swear you are about to combust from his excessive compliments, and it doesn’t help that he is looking at you as though you are his whole universe. “I mean it when I say you look really beautiful. How did I ever get so lucky to have you in my life?”

“You’re being weirdly cheesy, Hee.” You huff, feigning indifference as you try to tame the butterflies swarming in your tummy, and yet you know that your boyfriend loves to shower you with compliments and affections, but this time, something feels different in the way he gazes at you. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” He drawls playfully while adjusting to a different position that looks like he is resting his back against the headboard of the bed, one hand placed at the back of his head. “Just looking at your beautiful face is enough to make me feel drunk, and that’s saying a lot about you. My gorgeous girl.”

The warmth in your cheeks travels down to your neck. “Stop it, Hee.” You shoot him another scowl, a pathetic attempt that fails to tame the flutters all over you.

“Oh, so I can’t compliment my girlfriend now?” He scoffs, his eyebrow raising just slightly before a pout slowly forms on his very kissable lips.

“Don’t pout. It’s not a good look on you at your grown age.” You tease him, breaking the character from your collected facade. You always did like being the one to tease him on rare occasions since he’s the one who does most of the teasing in your relationship.

“I can’t believe my girlfriend insulted me just when I was about to tell her I missed her.” He complains exasperatedly, but you overlook his usual theatrics as his last three words strike a chord deep inside of you. He continues to pout, oblivious to your silence of melancholy. “I’m hurt, sweetheart.”

“You missed me?” You finally ask quietly after a couple beats of silence, your tone sounding as though you are in disbelief that your own boyfriend, the guy who completely adores you, missed you. But this time, it hits differently and deeper that renders you out of breath for a moment.

Any playful mischief or humour dissipates from his countenance while his features soften. “Of course, I did, and I still do.” He reaffirms softly with a small smile unfurling his lips.

“I’ve missed you too.” You tell him after having to swallow the familiar painful lump in your throat, and you hope that he doesn’t notice the palpable tremor in your voice. You clear your throat, now adjusting yourself to get more comfortable on the sofa and curl at the corner with both your knees pressing to your chest. “So, wanna tell me about your day?”

“Nothing much. The boys and I had takeaway dinner in Jungwon’s room after I ended the Weverse live—“ Heeseung continues while you listen attentively; at least you try to because it’s hard to process his words into your brain when all you can think about is how much you miss him. You hum every once in a while to acknowledge him, your eyes focusing on his animated face, but your vision eventually gets blurry with each blink while your throat feels painfully constricted with the bundle of emotions threatening to implode.

“The practices before the actual concert were tough, and it sucks how I needed my girl more than ever, but I’m miles apart from her.” Heeseung speaks out his frustration before realising that he is getting too carried away, but in the relationship, he’s the one doing most of the talking, whereas you would listen to him and gives your input politely whenever appropriate. He notices how unusually quiet you have gone and the way tears are welling in your waterline, alarming him. “Hey, you okay?”

“Mmhm.” You hum with your lips pressed thinly together, but there is a discernible crack in your voice. You muster a smile that feels painful, trying to maintain the facade you put up. “I’m glad that the tour went well in the end.”

“Sweetheart… you’re crying.” He points out gently, his eyes soften, and his lips downturn into a frown, watching as the teetering tears in your waterline finally cascade down your cheeks.

“I’m not.” You insist, using the end of your sleeves to wipe away the tears, a futile effort as they keep coming down like a waterfall. You hear him calling your name, but you are too absorbed by the whirlwind of emotions within you. An accidental sob leaves your lips as you still busily wipe the tears away. “I’m not crying.” You insist weakly, lacking the resolve to remain strong in his eyes.

“What’s wrong? Did you have a hard time at work?” Heeseung asks, fussing like a mother hen as his concern for you amplifies. Throughout the years of your relationship, you rarely ever showed him the vulnerable side of you, so to witness you breaking down hits him in the gut. He can only watch you helplessly on his phone screen as you continue to cry, his heart clenching painfully at the sound of your heartbreaking cries and sobs.

“You gotta let me know what’s wrong, baby. It’s hurting my heart to see you like this. Tell me, please?” He pleads, his fingers on his phone tightening as he feels useless and helpless that he isn’t there by your side to comfort you right now. He decides to wait patiently for you to become coherent again while offering you sweet nothings in a gentle tone.

Finally, you manage to calm yourself down, albeit hiccuping every now and then from going nearly hysterical over your emotions. “Work was fine. Everything’s fine. I just—“ You sniffle as you look away from him, your chest tightening with a familiar emotion. When you muster the courage to look at him again, your eyes turn glossy. “I just missed you. I miss you so much, and I need you.”

Heeseung can feel his own heart breaking at the way you look at him with raw yet intense yearning. “Sweetheart—”

“I know I shouldn’t be like this when I promised that I’d be your most supportive and understanding girlfriend, but it keeps getting harder to be apart from you.” You finally pour out your pent-up emotions, letting him know earnestly without filtering your words. A hiccup leaves your lips, and it takes every ounce of strength in him to hold back an endearing smile as he finds you quite adorable with your slightly puffy eyes and lips. “You know that I’m happy and proud that you’re thriving in your career, but I can’t lie to you anymore when I say it hurts that you’re not here with me. It hurts to be apart from you constantly.” You close your mouth, realising how absurd you are being before looking down, ashamed of how you are acting on your emotions. “I’m being dramatic, aren’t I? I’m sorry, Heeseung.”

“No, sweetheart, don’t ever apologise for speaking out your feelings.” He says sternly, his tone compelling you to look into his eyes, but all you see is how they soften with assurance and reserved affection for you. “We promised each other that we’d be more open and communicate, right?”

You nod your head feebly at his reminder. “It’s just that I don’t want to disappoint you by being a clingy girlfriend who needs you by her side every day, and it’d be unrealistic because you’re a K-pop idol.” You mumble, and tears prick in your eyes again as you feel fear-stricken by your worst nightmare. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“You could never disappoint me, baby. I don’t care if you want to be clingy with me or need my attention 24/7. You’re my girlfriend. I’d give you anything you want.” His words of assurance do little to allay the worst possible outcome that taunts you in your mind. “Besides, it’s going to take more than that for me to leave you, not that I would, ever.”

But you remain avoidant with your head turned to the side as you hide your face in your arm, eliciting a soft yet patient sigh from him. “Look at me, baby. Let me take a look at your beautiful face, please.” He pleads softly, his tone mellow; you can’t help but be compelled. When your glossy eyes meet his, he gives you a warm smile, a smile that provides comfort over your distressed mind. “You’re okay, sweetheart. We’re okay. I’m not even mad or disappointed.”

This time, you believe him, his assurance putting your frazzled emotions at ease. Seeing how relaxed you are as you lean back against the sofa with your face devoid of any sign of distress, he feels at ease too, knowing that you are no longer in such an intense spiralling of your emotions. “You’re good now?” He asks for confirmation, his tone remaining a soft lull.

“Yeah.” You manage to utter quietly, no longer feeling dubious or embarrassed by the fact that you showed him your raw vulnerability, and instead, you feel closer to him in an unexplainable sense despite him being literally in another country at the moment.

Heeseung seems satisfied by your affirmation. “Let’s focus on you now, yeah? I wanna hear my girl talk about her day.” He says while there is an avid interest in his countenance, rendering you flattered.

You begin to fiddle with the hem of his hoodie subconsciously, hyperaware of his dark, mesmerising eyes being fixated on you in a way that feels intense. “I didn’t do much. Just resting and lazing around since today’s my day off from work.” You tell him, being careful with how you choose your words because he doesn’t need to know the exact truth.

A frown touches his lips. “You didn’t go out? Not even with your friends?” It’s weird because you would usually go out with your friends or do something productive on your off days, not saying that you're unproductive just staying at home. “You must’ve been bored staying at our home all day.”

“No, I wasn’t bored at all.” You counter, and yet you sound weak as the recollection of today plays on your mind while warmth weaves across your every vein. “I was busy with—” You immediately smack your lips shut, nearly revealing the truth to him.

Heeseung is intrigued, really intrigued, because he has never seen you being so meek like you are now. “Busy with?” His question is harmless, a genuine curiosity, but your mind resorts to producing such filth you want him to do with you — the kind of filth you have never done with him, nothing to the usual loving he always did with you.

“Doing stuff.” You mumble, your eyes purposely avoiding his confused ones, probably wondering what part of his question suddenly makes you avoidant, but this time, he can see that you’re flaring with diffidence.

“What kind of stuff?” Heeseung probes, and you know he will remain unrelenting unless you cave into his curiosity. The corner of your lips twitches up when he whines. “Come on. Tell me.”

“The kind of stuff that reminds me of you.” You utter each syllable slowly, but you decide to focus on his prominent Adam’s apple, which is one of your favourite parts of him, and fuck, you can imagine yourself rubbing your clit on it.

For a moment, Heeseung doesn’t exactly comprehend your words, eliciting an annoyed huff from you, because there is no way your dirty-minded boyfriend does not understand the subtle implication. “Since I’ve been busy missing you too much, I played with the stuff that you bought for me.” You elaborate, your tone being carefully measured, and yet you can feel yourself weakening when a familiar suggestiveness shadows his once-softened features.

“Oh, yeah?” His voice a low rasp, igniting the heat flaring in your lower abdomen. The look in his eyes feels like a silent command as you find yourself slowly parting your legs as they hang over the edge of the sofa. “Did my baby have fun with it?”

You hum as you nod your head, his sultry voice making your clit throb. “Yes, but it wasn’t enough.” You say softly, but you can feel your breathing getting heavier.

“Of course, it wasn’t. It could never be compared to the real thing.” Heeseung smirks, his dark eyes scanning you intensely. He can see how needy you actually are behind this front of yours, and he knows that it won’t be too soon when you finally reveal to him. “My poor baby has been missing me too much — too much to the point that she’s craving my cock.”

You can physically feel your clit pulsating at his lewd words, and damn it, he’s right, because instantly, you drop all pretence, revealing what you have been keeping at bay. “Missed you so much, Hee.” You whimper, your cunt clenching at the smirk on his handsome face.

“I know, baby. You’re needy for me too, yeah?” He swallows down a groan, seeing the glossy look on your face. Maybe it’s because he’s feeling horny, but you look practically fuckable. This time, he doesn’t bother controlling his primal urges as his cock becomes a prominent bulge against his sweatpants.

You hum in an agreeing whine, the sound going straight into his cock. “Need you so badly, Seungie.” You mewl as you arch your back off the sofa while your hand travels down to your clothed cunt. “I need you and your cock to stuff me full.”

“Tell me more.” He demands, his jaw tightening with tension as he becomes intensely aroused by the sultry look on your face. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Things.” You nearly slur in the way you speak as your head spins at the palpable tension that you can feel even through the screen. You stroke your clothed cunt slowly, your fingers itching to remove your garment just to properly touch yourself. “Many things. The filthy kind.”

“You gotta be specific, sweetheart.” He chuckles lowly, his smirking countenance makes it seem like he’s degrading you, and fuck, you feel more turned on than you did before. It’s even better when throughout your sex life with him, he has never once degraded you in any way. “What sort of filth does my naughty girl want me to do to her?”

A needy whine escapes you, getting unbearably turned on as flashes of obscene scenarios appear in your mind while every inch of your skin feels hot. “Want your tongue on my pussy, lick and eat me out messily till I come, do it over and over again, and make me squirt.” You manage to utter such words without feeling any embarrassment, overshadowed by the pure need of your desire for the man beyond your reach. You let your head fall back to the sofa’s back, your eyelids weighing heavy with the lewd imagination playing in your head. “I want you to fuck me hard, fuck me with your cock till I break. Want you to use me as your cocksleeve every day. I need you to ruin me, Hee.”

“Fuck, baby.” Heeseung breathes out harshly, his eyes nearly rolling to the back at such lewd words leaving your once sweet-mouth. Never in his life has he ever heard you talking like that. His eyes flicker down at his very prominent bulge, feeling it painfully hard with incessant need before he directs his focus back on you through the screen. “You wanna be a good girl for me?”

The thought of pleasing him makes you eager, so you nod your head, eliciting a breathy chuckle from him at your enthusiasm. “I want you to grab the dildo I bought for you, and I want you to strip naked for me before you come back.” He instructs firmly, his dark eyes piercing into the screen as he stares at you, sending shivers through your heated body. “And position your phone where I can see every inch of you clearly, alright?”

You nod your head wordlessly in compliance and quickly toss your phone aside on the sofa before proceeding to rush for your room while the sound of your footsteps through the audio of his phone renders him amused at your obvious eagerness.

Meanwhile, Heeseung decides to lower his sweatpants just enough for his cock to spring free, and damn, it looks angrier than it did just earlier. He is incredibly turned on that his cock remains hanging high, the ridges and veins protruding as a result of being neglected. He clenches his fist, restraining himself from touching his cock, not until you arrive. He closes his eyes as he leans his head back against the headboard, feeling quite surreal that this will be his first video call sex with you ever.

“Heeseung?” Your velvety voice prompts him to snap his eyes open before grabbing his phone at the side that he nearly fumbles with from the unbridled excitement. When he looks at his phone screen, he nearly drops it while his heart pumps harder at the lewd sight of your nudity fitting in the frame as you sit politely on the sofa with the pink dildo in your grasp.

Heeseung marvels at your nudity, his eyes hungrily feasting on every inch of your body, and he swears he can feel blood pumping in his cock as it hardens tighter than it did before. He smirks at the lingering diffidence in your countenance, being aware of his effect on you, even just by his mere gaze. He fucking loves it whenever you become shy all because of him.

“You look so damn beautiful, baby.” He is in complete awe, as though this is the first time you bare your nudity to him. Your clit throbs faintly as you observe the raw hunger in his eyes, his eyes roaming around your tits. You flush warmly at the sound of his low groan through the audio as he sees your perky nipples that look delicious enough to be devoured by his untamed mouth. “We’re going to do something new this time. Are you okay with it?”

“Yes.” You utter softly, earning you a small smile from him. You had placed your phone on the coffee table in front of you with your abandoned ceramic mug supporting your phone horizontally.

“I want you to put aside your dildo first.” He instructs, and you do so without tearing your gaze off his face. You can practically feel her fluttering in excitement as you observe his eyes trailing down to your closed legs. “Now show me your pretty pussy, baby.”

For a moment, you hesitate as it dawns on you that this is the first time you and your boyfriend will be engaged in this type of foreplay. But the encouragement he offers you with a soft, subtle head nod dispels any lingering doubts and embarrassment from you. You allow every muscle in your body to relax before slowly spreading your legs open, shoving down a needy whine in the back of your throat as the action causes your clit to throb incessantly.

You see the way his nose flares slightly just by the mere sight of your shaved mount, and with a daring spirit, you use your fingers to spread it open, revealing your already glistening folds to him. You feel grateful for how easily you can get wet just by the thought of your hot boyfriend.

“There she is. Fuck, she looks so soaked.” He groans as his cock visibly twitches at the explicit view of your pussy. He quickly recovers, wanting to give your needy pussy some attention as he leans his body slightly forward with interest. A grin smears across his lips, his eyes being solely fixated on your pussy. “Hi, princess. You’ve been missing me too much, haven’t you?”

“Heeseung.” Your humourless tone silently indicates your bafflement upon witnessing your boyfriend speaking and cooing to your pussy as though it is a person, and you can practically feel her preening under his overflowing affection. Yet, you can’t deny that there is something hot about this.

“Shhh. I’m still talking to her, baby.” Heeseung playfully admonishes you without meeting your gaze. He continues to entertain exposed pussy, adoration and lust blending in his eyes. “The dildo did not satisfy you enough, did it? You need my cock to keep you warm and full, nice and deep inside of you that you won’t even wanna let go of me.”

You can’t help but instinctively clench at his words. “Look at you, princess. I can see you clenching. It’s too bad that you are not stuffed with my cock right now.” He remarks in amazement, and yet the mockery belies his adoration is not lost on you as you find it undeniably hot. “You love it when I talk to you like this, hmm? Should I talk to my pretty princess like this once I get back?”

“Hee, please.” You plead, having had enough of his teasing, and you must be insane to even feel bits of jealousy that his attention is on your pussy instead of you, as though your pussy is not a part of you.

Heeseung chuckles softly as he is very much amused by your pouty attitude before deciding to cease his teasing, albeit he was very much serious when he was talking to your pussy. “Touch your clit for me, baby.” He finally directs his words to you, and you comply, the padding of your index and middle fingers now touching your clit that throbs under your own touch. “Now rub it nice and slow. That’s it.”

Your fingers continue to rub your button in a circular motion, nice and slow, just as he said. It does not take you a minute when you begin to feel the familiar sensation in your aroused little button as you continue to stimulate it.

Heeseung observes your reaction carefully, drinking in the pleasure that faintly contorts in your mesmerising features. His own hand goes straight to his neglected cock, hissing lowly as he uses the padding of his thumb to stroke the red slit in a repeated up-and-down motion, imagining how good it would feel if he were there with you to use the tip of his cock to rub your clit instead.

“Does it feel good?” He asks in a slightly strained voice, already feeling sensitive under his own touch, his thumb continuously rubbing the slit in slow yet hard strokes, delaying the peak of his pleasure to arrive as he wants to see you come undone first.

You hum in response, still maintaining your composure as you are focused on rubbing your clit, but when you flicker your gaze to him, you bite down your lip upon seeing how he is evidently caught in a lustful haze, no doubt that he is touching himself. “But your fingers would feel better on it.” You whine softly.

Your words feed into his ego. “Of course, they would. I can easily make you cum just by rubbing your clit with my fingers, because your clit is so sensitive.” He says smugly with a smirk curling at his lips. “It’s actually so fucking adorable. Wonder how you’ll be once I get my tongue to touch your swollen little button instead.”

“Fuck, Hee.” You moan softly as you arch to your own touch, your imagination going vividly wild — his tongue caressing and licking your clit relentlessly with such precision.

“Look at you. Already falling apart.” He finds great delight in teasing you just by his lewd words that affect you more than he expected. “You wanna know what I would do just to your cute clit alone?”

“Tell me, please.” You keen, your fingers now rubbing your clit in fast motion, causing your back to arch off the sofa while you spread your legs even more, disregarding the limit to your flexibility.

“I would rub it with my thumb, giving it a little tease before I go licking it, swirling my tongue slowly around your swollen clit—” He becomes distracted by the pleasurable sensation as he rubs the slit that is now glistening with his arousal. He recovers with a grunt, refocusing on you, and fuck, you look sinfully divine with your body arching to your touch while your tits are pushed out. “And then, I would suck it like how I suck your nipples, and maybe I’d smack your pussy before making you cum hard, repeating the same actions and overstimulating you just to listen to your cute whines till you cry.”

You’re imagining the delicious description of what he would do to you hard, and your building pleasure intensifies as your fingers stimulate your clit at full tilt. You control the moans spilling from your lips as you look at your phone screen. “I wanna see your cock.” You tell him in a demand, earning an eyebrow raised from him.

“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?” He asks in a playful drawl, his lips curving into a lazy grin as he enjoys how the expression on your face is bordering on such desperation.

“Please let me see your cock, daddy.” The syllable leaves your lips wantonly as you whine, and it feels absurdly natural to utter such a forbidden endearment to refer to your lover as. You catch a glimpse of a fleeting surprise in his face amidst your desperate, lustful haze before it is replaced by something so primal. “I missed your cock so much.”

“Yeah? You missed daddy’s cock?” Heeseung sounds more than on board with it, practically into it as he gazes at you hungrily while his voice sounds rough at the edges. You whimper out a ‘yes’ with glossy eyes, and that’s all it takes for him to cave into your request as he tilts his phone to the angle where you are greeted by his seven inches. “Look, baby. You got daddy so hard — it’s angry that it’s not inside of my pretty baby’s pussy or mouth right now.”

“S’unfair!” A sob leaves your lips while you pour your pent-up frustration into your fingers as they rub your swollen clit vigorously. “I’m so needy for you, daddy!” Your unabashed moans echo off the walls of your shared apartment with Heeseung, finally letting go of the last thread of your inhibition.

“I know, baby. It’s unfair that I’m not there to give you what you want right now, but daddy will make it up to you soon.” He coos, his features softening with the familiar affection before something dark shadows them, causing his eyes to darken dangerously. “Daddy will stuff you nice and full with his cock soon. I promise you.”

His firm promise is enough to quell the bitterness at the current circumstances that burns indignantly in your heart. You move your hips slightly in tandem to your vigorous fingers, feeling the imminent release that is teetering at the edge while your clit painfully throbs that serves as a warning. “Hee! I feel—"

Heeseung bites back a growl, feeling practically ravenous at the delicious sight of you losing yourself to your own touch as your mouth is partly open, silently moaning with your eyes rolling to the back. “Come for me.” On his command, you let go, your pussy fluttering with the mess of your release as you can feel it sliding down on your skin to your butt.

Heeseung hums lazily, watching you intently as you slump against the sofa while he continues to manipulate his now-wet slit in measured strokes. “Tired already, sweetheart?” He asks mockingly.

Something inside you gets triggered by his mocking, and you refuse to back down from the challenge that he benignly imposes on you. You shoot him a brief glare, defiance burning in your irises that has him smirking. “No.”

“Good, because we’re not done yet.” His dark chuckles intensify the burning need in you. He looks down at your slick cunt, his tongue darting out to slide across his bottom lip. “Finger yourself. Need you to be prepped because I want to see you fucking yourself with that dildo.”

Your fingers feel like they have muscles of their own as they instinctively heed his command, now travelling down to your weeping cunt. Using your middle and ring fingers, you slowly insert them into your hole, cringing at the unfamiliarity of fingering yourself since you are used to Heeseung doing it for you with his long, slender fingers.

Still, you want to appease him, your fingers thrusting in and out steadily, but it just doesn’t feel right. “I missed your fingers in me.” You whine, your lips forming into a pout that you hope he would get the hint that you’re not into this despite the slick of arousal accumulating as it trickles down on your skin.

“Keep going, baby.” He orders sternly, eliciting more whines of protest from you, but he easily tames you with his dark, penetrating eyes, rendering you completely compliant. It baffles you how he looks collected as you can clearly see that he is rubbing the red tip of his cock. “Use your other fingers and spread your pretty pussy. I wanna see it.”

You hold back a whimper before obeying his command, your other fingers aiding your currently occupied fingers by using your index and middle fingers to finally spread your wet folds open, now giving him the raw obscenity of your fingers plunging into your sopping cunt.

“You’re so soaked, princess.” He comments, his voice a low husk that has your pussy fluttering again. Fuck, he’s so damn attractive in everything he does. “Close your eyes. Imagine that’s my fingers fucking you.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head to the back, your brows pulling together into a soft knit as you try to imagine his fingers fucking you instead of yours, and it’s working as you feel your hips moving in tandem with your fingers.

Heeseung nearly chokes on his saliva, completely mesmerised by the raw sensuality of you as you evidently lose yourself to your own touch. He desperately wants to engrave this moment on his mind, even better if he could record you and save it to his gallery. He stops rubbing his slit, only to begin pumping his cock.

“Look at you. Fucking yourself so desperately, but it isn’t enough, is it?” He sneers, feeling turned on that you seem to like when his words are bordering on mean as you moan in response. “You need daddy’s long fingers deep inside and curl them, fucking you fast and hard till you squirt.”

You fuck yourself harder with your fingers, trying to attain that familiar pleasurable sensation the way you did earlier, but it isn’t enough. “Please! I want your fingers so bad.” You sob out, your eyes seeking him as they plead desperately while the movement of your fingers nearly falters. “I can’t do it. I can’t make myself cum with my fingers alone, daddy.”

Heeseung can’t help but break character just slightly, his concern and affection for you slipping between the cracks. He even loses momentum in pumping his cock that remains hard for you. “But baby, you aren’t properly stretched.” His tone holds the familiar protectiveness.

“I can take it, daddy.” You reassure him after a needy sob leaves you. You look at him with doe-pleading eyes that you know he can’t resist. “Please?”

“Fine. Then take it like a good girl, yeah?” He smirks, resuming to pump his cock at an intensity that has the tip swollen and redder. “Grab that dildo and fuck yourself with it. Don’t forget to keep your legs spread open. Daddy wants to see your pretty pussy taking it.”

You quickly remove your fingers from your hole, eagerly grabbing the pink dildo despite the stickiness of your arousal on your fingers. You position the head of the dildo and align it to your hole before slowly pushing it inside, inch by inch. A gasp leaves your lips at the inevitable stretch of your walls, prompting you to halt halfway.

“What’s wrong? Can’t take it?” His mockery reignites the flame of defiance within you, but his dark eyes feel gradually intimidating, which renders you submissively whiny as you spread your legs further with your back arched. “Come on, baby. You fucked yourself with it earlier, so you can definitely make it fit. How is your cunt going to fit daddy’s cock?”

“I can.” You whimper, tears prickling in your eyes before you muster the courage to continue pushing the dildo into your cunt. The unrelenting stretch elicits more gasps from you, your breathing ragged. “I just need a minute.”

Heeseung is caught in a lustful haze as he zeros in on how your hole takes the dildo, imagining hard at the sensation of your velvety walls being stretched by his girth and eventually enveloping him. With a grunt, he begins to pump himself harder, wanting to test the limit of his endurance in prolonging his orgasm.

Finally, every inch of the dildo is now snuggled in your hole. “There we go. Good girl.” He purrs in satisfaction, making you preen. His dark eyes are heavily fixated on the dildo being stuffed in your dripping cunt. “Now fuck yourself with it. Thrust it into your needy cunt however you want.”

You let out a silent whimper as you begin to pull the dildo, only to push it back in, your walls having to be stretched by the girth, but you know that this is nothing compared to his real cock. You allow your head to rest on the sofa’s back, your chest heaving up and down as you imagine the ridges and veins of his cock grazing against your walls while he fucks you in slow, deep strokes. You moan softly as you increase the tempo of your hand manipulating the dildo into your dripping cunt.

You glance down at your phone screen, only to moan out at the pleasure contorting in his face as he fists his cock with his hand. “I watched some of your concert clips earlier.” You tell him breathlessly as he looks at you with an attractive eyebrow raised. “And you got me so wet, daddy.” You moan again, now reaching for your tits with your other hand, palming and fiddling with your nipples, which intensifies the building pleasure.

“Oh, yeah? Naughty girl.” He teases you, his eyes watching you playing with your tits that he had been dreaming of latching his lips to your suckable nipples. He pumps his angry cock harder, his mind running wild at the scenario — sucking your tits while he fucks you hard with his hips bruisingly snapping into yours. “Which ones are your favourites?”

“Um—“ Your voice shakes at the instability of having to focus on his question, but the dildo that is fucking into your cunt right now feels good. “Teeth and Future Perfect performances.” You answer in a breathy moan, recalling how you felt when you were watching those clips of him.

You thrust the dildo faster and harder; the squelching sound of your wet cunt reaches your ears while he clenches his jaw at how wet you really are, pissed off that it’s not even his cock that is making you that wet.

“You looked so hot when you were performing those songs, the way you looked angry.” You tell him keenly, practically purring as you recall the intensity in his dark eyes that looked primal when he was performing and how he looked pissed off, making you wetter as you imagine the stuff you want him to do to you. “You should’ve felt how wet I was while I was watching those clips. Got me imagining how you’d fuck me angrily.”

Despite your sultry admission going straight into his hard cock, his eyebrows furrow with a tinge of concern plastered on his face, but he never relents from pumping his cock. “Baby, you know I would never fuck my anger into you.” The reserved softness in his tone elicits a whine of protest from you, needing him to be mean to you instead.

“But it’ll be so hot!” You moan out as you arch your back off the sofa before moving your hips sensually to meet the thrust of your dildo deeper. “I want you to fuck me mean till I’m a sobbing mess. You know you’d want that, daddy.” You purr, your sultry eyes gazing at him with a challenge while his cock twitches angrily at the thought. Fuck yeah, he’d want that.

“Fuck.” He grits his teeth, faltering in his momentum as his head spins at the scenario of him fucking you ruthlessly till you beg for him to stop, till you cry and sob as he overstimulates you with his cock all night. “Yeah? You want daddy to be mean?” He nearly growls out his words while your cunt clenches around the dildo at the sound.

“Want it so much.” You whine needily as you palm your tits harder, getting crazily turned on as you watch him throw his head to the back with his Adam's apple bobbing up and down attractively while sweats trickle down his neck. “Want you to cuff my wrists and choke me while you fuck me hard. Want you to do mean things to me so badly.”

Your needy yet genuine admission has him reeling in the head. He feels like an animal, growling at the salacious thought of you being restrained to the bed while you take everything he gives to you like a good little fucktoy — nothing like the usual lovemaking. He groans huskily at the image of you in tears as you pathetically plead with him to stop despite your sopping cunt meeting his thrusts.

“I’ll do more than that.” He rasps, his tone darkening with promises that cause your clit to throb and your nipples to perk. When you meet his eyes, you whimper at the intensity that reminds you of those concert clips of him. “I promise you, baby, I’ll give you what you want once I come back.” A cruel smirk touches his lips, shocking you at the dark sensuality he emits. “You want me to be fucking mean while I fuck you senselessly? I’ll do just that. I’ll make you scream and cry while you take everything I give to your needy pussy. You’ll get mean Heeseung, alright.”

“Fuck, daddy!” You moan loudly, getting unbearably turned on by his dark promises as you thrust the dildo harder, hurtling yourself to the edge of ecstasy. You abandon your tits, only to stimulate your clit in fast, circular motion.

“We’ll go all night, never stopping till your needy pussy is leaking with my cum, till your pussy can’t fit any more of my cum, but I’ll make you swallow them.” He lets out a guttural moan as he pumps his cock furiously, his eyes rolling to the back at the height of his pleasure. “I’ll fuck you for days, keeping you satisfied and full till you can’t walk. I’ll fucking do it, because it’s daddy’s job to spoil his princess.”

“Yes, daddy! Want you to spoil his princess!” You’re not sure if you’re referring to yourself or your pussy, but you are deprived of coherency as you get lost in the dual sensation of your cunt and your clit being manipulated by your own hands. “I’m feeling close, Hee!”

“Don’t you dare come before me.” He warns in a growl, sending pleasurable shivers through you. You obey him, whining and moaning as you try your best to stave off your orgasm that is teetering, yet you are rubbing your clit skilfully fast. “Yeah, baby. Keep rubbing your clit for me like that. Cock feels good, hm?”

You hum in response with tears pricking in your eyes. “But not better than daddy’s cock.” You sob out pathetically, and that has him cooing at you with mockery. “Need daddy’s cock to satisfy my needy pussy.” But in the haze of lust, the familiar sentiments manage to grip you tight as your glossy eyes meet his. “I missed you so much, Hee.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He softens up just slightly, seeing the familiar yearning in your pretty eyes. He clenches his jaw, pouring his pent-up emotions he hasn't conveyed to you just yet into pumping his cock while effectively stroking his thumb on his wet slit. “I’m never letting you go, ever. We’ll fuck every day once I get back, and I’ll breed you till you get pregnant with our kids. Daddy will take such good care of you.”

“Yes, yes! Breed me, daddy!” You keenly moan, your hips stuttering as you imagine he pumps his load into you to the brim, breeding you.

“I’m gonna buy you a ring, and I’m gonna marry you, tying you to me forever.” He pours out what his heart has been yearning for. Despite the lust fogging his head, he looks at you with an intense yearning from the love he harbours for you, desperation contorting in his features fleetingly. “I’ll make you my wife.”

“Nngh! Hee!” You can feel it coming, your teetering orgasm on the brink of being released against your weakened will while the coil in your tummy threatens to snap at any moment. You fuck the dildo into you even faster, sobbing out. “I can’t hold back! I need to come, please!”

“Daddy will make you beg more too. You sound so fucking pretty when you do.” He groans, and with one last pump, his cock spurts out the white, sticky essence that now soaks his sweatpants. He breathes out harshly at the intensity of his own release before looking back at you, only to smirk at how obedient you are, waiting for his command with tears staining your cheeks, such desperation. “Alright, sweetheart, you can let go anytime for me.”

“Thank you, daddy.” Your moan tangles with your sob, and at once, your orgasm comes crashing down on you violently, leaving your legs trembling while you arch your back, your mouth parting with a silent moan as your cunt gushes out with your sticky release.

“That’s my perfect girl, making a mess all over.” He remarks with an unmistakable affection as he watches you with primal hunger, enjoying how ruined you look just from fucking yourself, but not nearly as ruined as he will make you once he returns.

Your heart flutters at his praise while you remain slumped against the sofa, allowing your limbs to rest as the exertion begins to dawn in every part of your muscles. Eventually, you force yourself to remove the dildo from your cunt slowly, whimpering as you do so as it grazes down against your walls. You eye the dildo that is covered by your sticky release before tossing it aside. You can feel how soaked the cushion is beneath you due to your release, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You take a moment to recover while the sound of your boyfriend’s ragged breathing can be heard through the audio. The silence is familiarly comfortable, neither of you uttering a word to each other as you bask in the afterglow of your session. But some of the words he spoke to you in the midst of your lustful haze resonate deep in you. Your heart begins to pound harder while butterflies return in their wake.

“You okay, baby?” He asks softly, now being the sweet and gentle boyfriend that you’re in love with. He is still wiping off the excess of his release with tissues off his now-limp cock, but he grimaces at the apparent stain on his grey sweatpants.

“I’m okay.” You tell him reassuringly, your voice coming out small from the excessive whines and moans that bring your face to flush warmly at how wanton you were earlier. You lean forward, grimacing at the aches in your legs and the stickiness in between your thighs before grabbing your phone. Your eyes soften as he gazes at you. “Heeseung, did you mean what you said?”

You refer to every word he spoke to you, needing assurance and affirmation from him; otherwise, you’d be overthinking at night. “I meant every word, sweetheart.” He says firmly, his tone lacing with promises.

You bite your inner cheek, feeling nervous about what you are about to ask. “Even about making me your wife?” You ask quietly, your eyes scanning his unreadable expression carefully.

“Especially that.” His declaration sends a wave of emotions to you as your breath goes hitched in your throat. The raw vulnerability and yearning in his eyes are palpable, as though they are the reflection of your own sentiment. “I really feel the same way too, you know?”

Somehow, you have a strong inkling that he is referring to him missing you. You exhale softly before a small yet weak smile touches your lips. “I know, Hee—“

“No, baby, you don’t understand because I’ve been missing you too much, more than you missed me.” He cuts you off, taking you by complete surprise at the sheer desperation and pain that contorts in his handsome features, because you have never seen him being like this — as though the distance is killing him agonisingly on the inside too. “You’re on my mind constantly, even when I was practicing, and all I could think about is going home to you as soon as possible. I needed you, I still do.”

You try to find your voice, wanting to speak out, anything to ease your lover’s pain, but he continues to pour out the pent-up emotions he had been grappling with. “I hate to say it, but it got me thinking if my being an idol is even worth it if it means that I’d have to leave you again and again for tours.”

This time, something inside of you snaps. “Don’t say that, Hee. I never want it to reach a point where you find yourself in a position of choosing between me or your idol job.” You don’t mean to sound harsh, but you can’t allow it to happen, even if it means that you might lose him to his job. Your voice trembles as you speak again, tears welling in your waterline. “You love being an idol, you love your teammates, you love performing in front of your fans, and you must be crazy to think that I’d even allow you to choose me—“

“But I love you more.” Heeseung declares with vehemence while the devastation painting his handsome face tears a sob out of you. “Yes, I love being an idol, but it could never be compared to the weight of my love for you.”

“Heeseung.” You utter his name weakly as tears cascade down your cheeks freely. His declaration of love is all it takes for you to break down.

He watches you helplessly as you attempt to wipe your tears away. “God, I hate it when I’m not there to wipe your tears for you.” He whispers, his heart clenching painfully when your glossy eyes meet him.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, hating how you are being overly sensitive and getting too carried away with your emotions.

“No more apologies from you, baby, because I’m the one who should be apologising to you.” He says softly, yet firmly enough for you to grasp his sincerity.

“But you didn’t do anything wrong.” You counter weakly, sniffling. “You’re simply doing your job, and I’m just being a dramatic girlfriend.”

“I did you wrong by leaving your side when you needed me the most.” He says with a rueful smile. “You can expect a lot of apologies from me once I come back home, and a ring too.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief, earning you a chuckle from him. “What? You thought I was joking about buying you a ring?” He adorns a boyish grin that you so badly want to kiss him. “I did say that I’d be making you my wife. I’m a man of my words, sweetheart.”

“But it’s still early for us to get married!” You protest despite your heart thumping in agreement to his words. A frown tugs at your lips, determined to make him change his mind as you don’t want him to regret it. “I won’t allow marriage to get in the way of your job. Would your fans even accept the idea of us getting married?”

“Baby, you’re my future and my happiness. If the company wants to kick me out simply for marrying you, then so be it. I can always take over my dad’s business as a source of income. As for my fans, well, they’ll be happy for me — I’m sure they will, at least the real ones will.”

“I don’t know if I’m worth it for you to go through such lengths, Hee.” Your lips quiver, feeling dejected. “I don’t want you to throw away your years of hard work because of me. You went through so much just to get where you are now.”

“You are worth it, worth more than you think.” He says reassuringly, his tone sounding firm with conviction, but it does nothing to alleviate the thoughts he can see swirling in your head, eliciting a soft sigh from him. “If you’re still worried about my consideration in quitting my idol job, then I’ll figure things out and find ways so that I won’t have to leave your side again.”

“Promise me that you won’t quit.” You plead, your voice breaking as you feel immensely conflicted, because you can never deny a part of you that yearns for him to choose you. “I don’t want you to have any regrets if you had chosen that path.”

“Baby, I won’t have any regrets when it comes to you—”

“Just promise me, Heeseung.” You implore as your eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Promise me that you won’t quit because of me.” because of love.

Heeseung doesn’t respond as he examines your teary countenance, noticing how desperate you are and knowing that you won’t back down, even if he can feel your heart breaking. He resigns with a sigh. “I promise.” He hopes that he sounds convincing enough, because you are crazy to think that he would never choose you, but only for now, the idea of marriage is pushed to the back of his mind.

You feel at ease despite your heartache, but you know that this is for the best for him. You sniffle again, earning an adoring grin from him. You avoid his eyes, a sudden diffidence cloaking you while your cheeks flush warmly. “Besides, how else will I be able to watch you perform on stage? I love watching you perform.”

“I know, baby, because I turn you on whenever I perform.” His mischief returns to his demeanour, a smirk unfurling on his lips while desire burns in his gaze. “What did you tell me earlier? Something about how I looked hot while I was performing Future Perfect and Teeth?”

You smile shyly as you nod your head, and God, he feels like he’s in love with you over and over again. “Mmhmm. You looked like you were angry, but I loved it. It got me all hot and bothered.” You tell him bluntly, oblivious to your words that rouse him.

“Fuck, baby, we should stop now.” He groans, repressing the arousal from reaching his cock. “I don’t think I could handle another round.”

“Right, you need sleep.” You say, pouting as you realise that he is supposed to be asleep right now.

“Don’t pout, sweetheart. I’ll be back before you know it.” He says reassuringly before his lips curve into a smirk again. “I hope you won’t forget what I promised you earlier, because we’re not done yet.”

“Hurry back, then.” You adorn a sultry smile on your lips, and the sensuality of you elicits a breathy cuss from him. “I expect you to ruin me once you return home, daddy.”

“Don’t worry, princess. You’ll get what you asked for. You’re gonna get it.”

You have never felt as anticipated as you are now, but the reality of him returning to you is in two long days. You let out a silent huff before eyeing your pink dildo. Guess that’ll work and keep you company for the next two days.

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#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader smut

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nnight-dances · 8 months ago

Text

ONE KISS, ONE LOVE

PAIRING: park wonbin x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive dialogue but nothing explicit

TROPES: established relationship!au, idol!wonbin, age gap vibes but no real mention, reader babies wonbin like he deserves to be, texts at the end, just sickening sweet stuff

WATCH: wonbin's night routine

NOTE: inspired by the video above! once again, these wonbin fics write themselves ... he might be my favorite boy to write rn or maybe that's just my way of coping!! anyway don't be surprised if i just start spamming u with the wonbin fics i just have too many good ideas. but they're all gonna be set in this same established relationship style, he's just so bf coded lol... anyway, enjoy <3

you've been in bed for a good twenty, clad in cream pyjamas and skincare intact, when you hear the frontdoor open – signalling your boyfriend, wonbin's arrival. you pause the video you're watching on your phone and sit up to greet him, "bin? welcome home." his heavy footsteps stop where his figure finally comes into your view.

wonbin looks wiped out, no doubt, eyes shadowed by his somnolent lashes. he stares at you for a moment before humming, the sound halfway between a thank god you're here and i could die right now. he peels his layers off with speed, black leather jacket hung up on the tree-shaped rack near your closet and his other outerwear finding its place on the small cabinet next to it.

you watch fondly as even in his fatigue, he patiently makes sure no outside clothes pollute the bed. as soon as he's in nothing but his white tee and boxers though, he jumps onto you, deflating the air out of you like a body pillow.

"hello," he mumbles, face disappearing into your chest where he snuggles closer.

"hi, love," you welcome him warmly, fingers carding through his hair as a force of habit. you breathe against his limp body, letting him unwind on top of you as he often does. it's a silent activity, a night routine of sorts for wonbin on his longest days. he'd trudge home and settle close to you, wordlessly like a cat looking for soothing.

sometimes, you talked to him about your day and he'd hum along, eyes on yours telling all you needed to hear. other times, you would go back to doing whatever you were doing – watching a show, playing a game, or talking to a friend – while he recharged. he even insisted it worked best when you were just doing your own thing.

today, you do neither. setting your phone aside, you occupy yourself with wonbin himself, first meandering through his charcoal hair and then trailing down to his neck, tracing hearts and stars into his skin. you can feel him relaxing under your touch, his face finally coming back into your vision.

"tired," wonbin says, voice coarser than ever. "need to sleep."

"i know, baby," you croon, "wanna wash up first?"

he shakes his head adamantly, "no. sleepy."

you laugh softly, "angel, i'm sure you are but you can't sleep with your makeup on, can you?"

"had a few drinks with taro hyung," he murmurs as if that explains his behavior.

"really? you had time after practice?"

"he snuck it into practice. beer after all that sweating was nice."

"wow, look at you," you muse, hand brushing his bangs out of his eyes, "you sound like an old man."

"i am," wonbin pouts, "let the old man go to sleep."

"sorry, love, i can't do that," you say.

"rude."

"say what you will," you sit up fully, pulling your sluggish boyfriend with you. ignoring his groans, you kiss his nose, "wash up, okay? can't have my rockstar breaking out because he was too lazy to wash his face before bed."

he groans again but this time it's an endearment, his kiss on your cheek disguising his smile. "but i can't move, y/n. please."

"i'll help you," you snake out of the sheets, squatting as you heave wonbin out as well. he stands up unwillingly, head wilting like a sad flower. you laugh, pulling him toward the washroom, "will you listen if i do all the work?"

that gets the job done alright because two minutes later, wonbin's settled against the sink with you between his legs. you crane around his tall limbs to reach for his products, having memorized his night skincare by now.

cleansing balm in hand, you carefully cover every inch of his face, the makeup turning into oil gradually. "okay, babe, now rinse your face for me."

"you said you'd do all the work!" he complains without missing a beat.

you glare at him, "i can't possibly wash your face without making a mess of both of us."

"sounds like an excuse to me."

sulking, he turns around, washing the balm off. next, you go in with his foam cleanser, gently circling his cheeks and forehead. despite all his earlier declarations, he watches you attentively, his hand loosely clasped around your waist to keep you in place. you have to scold him midway at one point when he gets cheeky and sneaks a hand down your pyjamas, feeling the hem of your panties.

eventually, you dry his face off with a hand towel. "there," you peck his cheek, "all clean."

when he doesn't let go of your waist, you raise a brow at him. "you only love me when i'm clean," he scowls, "don't you?"

you narrow your eyes at his tantrum, "i think you're forgetting how i'm sacrificing my screen time before bed to clean you up right now."

he looks unconvinced as he tails you out of the bathroom. he's about to throw himself back onto the bed when you stop him by his hand. "change first," you explain, pulling out fresh pyjamas and throwing them at him.

wonbin stands idly and it's only when he starts raising his arms up that you realize he wants you to do it. you sigh, "bin, you're such a baby today." but you smile as you pull his shirt off, disregarding the way he instantly flexes when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. slipping his pyjamas on, a piece at a time, you clap when he's done.

"i would make a great mother," you pat yourself on the back.

"you can adopt me if you want," he shrugs and you snicker, "i don't think i need to."

"you want anything to eat before you sleep?" you ask as if you hadn't quite literally brushed his teeth. "chocolate," he says without any conviction and you roll your eyes at him, watching as he launches himself at the bed.

"quick, come here," wonbin whines. you pad over to your side of the bed and join him, giggling when his body curls around you instantly. his nose finds its indent against your neck this time, cold and fresh.

for a minute, you think that's all you'll hear out of your boyfriend for the night. but it's just as you're about to reach for your phone when he speaks up again, "sorry if i'm boring."

you're not sure if your ears hear right, "what?"

but his voice is solemn, "...i'm probably kinda boring lately. so i'm sorry."

you turn on your side to face him completely, hand coming to rest against his cheek. "bin, you idiot. you coming home is the best part of my day."

"really? even though i'm too dead to do anything?" he perks up but his eyes gloomy, "we don't even fuck anymore. or go to the movies. or go out at all."

you laugh, "you're making us sound like an old couple on the verge of divorce, baby. you're just busier because of your comeback! i'm so excited and you should be, too."

"i am. but i don't want bore you."

"you don't, though. i'm lucky enough i get to see you at night and take care of you when i can. plus, it's not like you won't have more time after your promotions, right? we can do everything you want then."

wonbin blinks at you, his cool hand finally coming to meet yours where it was still caressing his cheek. he kisses your palm, "thank you. i'm glad."

"of course, love. now, go to sleep or you'll regret it tomorrow," you chirp, rolling over and shutting the lights off quickly.

"...you really would be a great mom," wonbin laughs at your behavior.

"good night, wonbin."

"good night, mom."

you hit his arm at his brazenness but when he just laughs again, the sound is too sweet for you to even pretend to be mad. so instead, you hug him closer, hand on his bicep and his legs tangled with yours.

–

bin: I AM FREE AT LAST

bin: FROM THE SHACKLES OF IT

you: …

you: how would ur fans react if i leaked our texts

you: so much for being mysterious

you: "shackles of it" boy have you ever touched a book

bin: okay so you're rude today

bin: i miss y/n mom version

you: ew?? if u have a kink i dont think this is gonna work

bin: because…?

you: is sungchan still single

bin: i was kidding! haha!

you: ok.

bin: seriously tho let's do smth fun 2nite

you: i get off work late today :(

bin: whatttt you have a life outside of me :0

you: do you WANT me to break up with you???

bin: what i meant was i will be there to pick you up <3

you: wtv man idgaf anymore

bin: noooo

bin: i'll do anything you want don't be mad

you: anything?

bin: well other than leaking our texts ofc

you: i want to live together

bin: ???

bin: we alr do

you: wonbin

you: baby

you: you just always come over to my place

bin: i sleep there it's my home wdym

you: and you still pay the bills for your place?

bin: i don't make that bag for nothing

you: ok so what if we lived together instead

bin: but i really like your place!!

you: i do too

you: let's make it our place

bin: shit

bin: i just actually blushed irl

you: :)

you: is that a yes

bin: i want to marry you

you: okay well let's calm down

bin: did u just reject me

you: i'm telling u that you're gonna regret proposing through text

bin: i love u and i want u to be my wife

bin: omg i just shed a tear at the thought of calling u that

bin: wife…. im changing ur contact name

bin: or should i change it to fiancée? since we havent yet tied the knot

you: park wonbin

you: we are 20 years old

bin: untrue

bin: im 22

you: i am not marrying you right now

bin: … is there someone else

you: i'm not marrying anyone right now

bin: ok so i'm not husband material

you: you are

bin: i'm not father material? you: no comment

you: but we aren't ready babe

you: let's take it slow k?

you: just move in first

you: we have so many memories to make

bin: you're such a flirt

you: ??? u just asked me to marry you but sure

bin: i'll be moved in by the time you come back home

you: i thought you were picking me up

bin: that was before u asked me to move in

bin: now i have to bring all my stuff over

bin: which side of your closet can i use? bin: also thoughts on letting me keep my rock collection next to your figurines?

you: right side and no

bin: wow u didnt even think about it

you: imagine we get into a fight

bin: i refuse to

you: i'm just saying i would be tempted to throw them rocks at u

bin: you would do that????

you: depending on what u do

bin: why are you expecting me to do anything at all????

you: …experience

bin: wow

you: to be loved is to be known

bin: you can't flatter me now

you: i love you

bin: …

bin: i love you too

596 notes · View notes

kiestrokes · 28 days ago

Text

Smut Shots: Kitten | NSFW

Pairing: Johnny Suh of NCT x Reader/You/Yn Rating: NSFW! Mature (18+) Minors DNI. Word Count: 3,354 Genre: little slice of life-ish, one shot, drabble, smut, PWP. Warnings: loosely in the idol AU, Johnny mentions being a performer, home on break, childhood friends, first time hook up, cursing.

Sexually Explicit Content: oral (male receiving), kissing, nipple stim, clit stim, sexual intercourse (penis in vagina), no condom, multiple orgasms (reader), Johnny kind of edges himself, choking (both parties), slight dirty talk, nothing too crazy, squirting.

Summary: Johnny is a childhood friend that sometimes crashes at your downtown apartment when he is in town and goes out drinking with friends. Because your place is quiet and you don’t crowd him, and you always have a magical touch that puts him right to sleep.

🗝️ Note: Hi! I am finally clearing out my WIPs, this is the first in a series of smut one shots, blatantly (uncreatively) titled; Smut Shots. Mostly PWP, or the barest of plots for when you just need a literary quickie. Brace yourselves, there is quite the backstock on these, that I just didn't know what to do with for the last two years. Per usual, no beta reader on this, its a drabble so anticipate minor grammatical and spelling errors. Let me know if there is anything egregious.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted in this story.

Read it on Ao3!

Johnny wanders out of your guest room and office combination that he had practically crawled into at three in the morning.

You watch him from your peripheral as you continue to quietly food prep for the upcoming work week.

“Can you come take a nap with me?”

“What?”

You push a laugh through your nose, glancing in his direction.

Johnny groans, shuffling closer to tug you by the ditch of your elbow, “please I can’t fall back asleep, just come stroke my hair?”

“Johnny, I thought you slept over here to be left alone.”

You seal the lid to the chicken salad and set the utensils in your sink to wash your hands.

“Just- please, it’s strange…being without any of the members for the past week.”

Johnny peeks at you from under his lashes, his face lighting up when he sees you dry your hands and walk towards him.

“Okay. Okay, let's go kitten.”

Johnny’s grin unfurls, wide and dimpled at the pet name. The two of you shuffle off to climb into your guest bed together, Johnny slipping under the tousled blankets with his back to the daybed headboard and you sliding in to face him. Plotting to leave once he had fallen soundly asleep.

“I just need-” Johnny grunts, tugging you effortlessly against his body.

You don’t have time to stifle your surprised gasp at his display of strength before he is slipping a knee between yours. Your hand thuds against his stomach as he locks you against him.

“God why is your stomach so hard,” you rap your knuckles against it again.

“They’re called abs,” Johnny grumbles in his somnolent stage.

Curious, your fingers slip under the hem of his shirt and Johnny’s body jerks.

“Hey be careful,” he grunts, hips tucking back against the headboard and safely away from your wandering hands.

Johnny's eyebrows furrow at you before his eye lids shutter and the stress melts from his face. You tease the plain between his hips, nails scraping at the shaved skin before stealthily creeping up his shirt to pinch a nipple.

“Why? Does it turn you on?” You shoot him a teasing smile that he can’t see.

“Yes,” Johnny huffs, squeezing you to his chest to render you immobile.

Trapping your hand inside his shirt briefly, before he tugs it out by your wrist and places it on the side of his face. His eyes remain shut the entire time, not burdened by your mild attempt at teasing him.

“Now be a good friend and rub my head.”

“Yes, kitten.”

He hums at the nickname, something akin to a human purr. The two of you drift off to sleep, lulled by the repetitions of your nails scraping through his silky hair.

You wake an hour later, hot, uncomfortably so and trapped in the cage of Johnny’s arms. Somehow you were now the one with your back to the headboard of the daybed. Your only way to escape the sweltering heat is to climb over your small giant of a friend.

Carefully, in an attempt not to wake an exhausted Johnny, you untuck yourself from the blankets. Sighing in relief as the wave of cool air that hits, but it’s not enough. This man is a life size, portable radiator.

Your thigh is already resting atop his hip, so all you have to do is release yourself from the human straight jacket. You manage to unlock his top arm and slip under it with moderate ease. Triumphantly you carefully climb above Johnny’s hip, foot dangling off the bed, toes flexing in search of the floor when the world tilts.

Johnny is on his back briefly, hands finding your hips with shocking speed, holding you to his pelvis before rolling you back under him with a drowsy grunt.

You’re pinned, thighs open wide to him. Johnny ruts into you, half mass erection hitting right at your clothed clit. The moan you let out hits him like a bucket of cold water and alarms yourself. His eyes blinking open rapidly as he tries to understand the situation.

“I-I was just trying to get out of the bed, it’s too hot” you gasp out, Johnny's weight still pinning you down, unhelpful to either of you as you squirm.

He huffs sleepily and rolls off onto his back, throwing a hand over his eyes

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok, you were asleep.”

You tug his elbow and he peeks at you from under his arm and gives a nod of agreement, ears still red with embarrassment and you give it a gentle tug.

Your other hand rubs his stomach, “are you gonna be ok?”

“If you stop touching me I will be.”

You laugh, “my touch never affected you before!”

You tease the trim of his pants, his hand chases yours and snatches your wrist to tug you down over his chest.

“Why are you being so bratty today?”

Johnny's lidded gaze meets yours. You lick your lips, eyes on his and slip your knee over to straddle him. Johnny's hands glide automatically to the small of your back.

“What? Are you doi-are you sure?”

Johnny bites back a moan when you press yourself into his lap in answer, ass rubbing against his growing girth.

“I think you could use a little head. Let me take your mind off of worrying about someone else’s needs for once,” you hum rolling your hips against his.

“Fuck,” Johnnys eyes pinch together and his hips rise against your motions, “I wasn’t-this wasn’t why I asked you to come nap.”

“Shhh, I know. Do you want me to continue?”

His eager nod has you both smiling goofily. You shuffle down his thighs and Johnny sits up on his elbows watching you tug his shorts and boxers down to his ankles in one go.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he groans as his cock springs free.

“It’s just a little blowjob, kitten.”

Johnny grunts as your hands wrap around his member.

“Please don’t say little when you’re holding my dick.”

“Mmm” you hum, sucking the tip right into your mouth without any preamble.

“Shit,” Johnny's hips straighten as you lick down his shaft.

You moan appreciatively at the weight of him on your tongue, overfilling your mouth and suck on him, hard. Johnny let’s put a strangled noise and his hands that had been embedded in the blanket finally touch you. Stroking your cheek and jaw before tangling in your hair.

Satisfied with the affection, you start to draw him in and out of your mouth, alternating between strokes of your tongue and sucking with hollowed cheeks.

Testing different techniques based on Johnny's reactions. How his legs stiffen under you when your teeth lightly tug at the crest of his fat tip. The raw moan he releases anytime he feels the smooth underside of your tongue roll against the thick vein in the middle of his cock

“Oh, just like that, please-please don’t stop” his hips rock up into your mouth unable to restrain himself any longer.

You brace your hands on the bed beside his hips and let him control the thrust. He doesn’t slap into you like other men have. His rutting is slow, thumb reaching down to stroke the corner of your mouth as it strains around his broad base. Lidded eyes watching you when you chance a glance at him.

“Can I fuck you?”

You look up at your friend, his pupils have engulfed his irises. Hips stilling as he waits for your answer.

You finally remove your mouth from his swollen cock, and his hands are tugging you up his body and clutching your face for a kiss at this first nod.Panting into your mouth as his fingers slide into your sweats.

“Where are your panties?” Johnny breathes between kisses.

“I never wear them when I’m at home.”

You and Johnny moan in unison. Johnny at your confession and you as his fingers dive into your folds.

“Shit, you’re so wet.”

Johnny nips your lip before flipping you over. Kicking the rest of the way out of his shorts and tossing off his shirt before helping you rid yourself of your clothing.

“I might not last the first time but I’ll make it up to you.”

“Don’t worry about me, you need this,” you pull him back to you.

Biting back a moan at the feel of his hot thighs pinning yours open. Johnny rests his head on your collarbone while he drags himself through your drenched folds. Each time he bumps your clit with his swollen tip you clench around nothing.

“Johnny-" you start, breaking into a gasp as he enters you. Knowing what you wanted.

“Shit,” the two of you hiss in unison.

Johnny wastes no time filling you right up, spearing you open with deep thrusts.

“Knew you’d be the tight,” Johnny rolls into you, reangling slightly until he slides home, “barely fucking fit.”

And he’s right, he's tucked so snug inside your all too eager cunt that your body is shaking. You’re already so close to coming, just from the stretch he’s providing alone.

“Shhh, stop talking.”

Rubbing your hips ever so slightly against his, Johnny laughs and you groan as you feel the vibrations echo throughout your entire body.

“Typical- you can dish it out but you can’t take it,” Johnny grunts as presses his torso into yours, heat radiating off of him.

“I’m kinda taking a lot right now,” you glare at him as your body shudders when his stroke purposefully picks up.

“Yea?”

Johnny's lips brush yours and you respond with a kiss. Fingers tugging into his silky strands, he stutters a little gasp and you take advantage. Gliding your tongue along his.

“Mmph,” Johnny rolls deep into you with a slow drag out.

Kissing his way across your cheek to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck you feel so good.”

“Oh?” You moan in question as he repeats the slow motion, long, stiff strokes into your pussy, that have your nails digging into the muscles of his back.

“Shit Johnny, how have we never done this?”

Your nipples are painfully erect, chafing against the toned ridges of his chest.

“‘M don’t know” he huffs, placing an open mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin of your throat.

His hands drifting down to press your legs open by the back of your thighs, allowing him to sink impossibly deeper into your insides.

You comb the hair back from his face, “ahh just like that.”

Your body tightens when he presses into you, picking up speed, his pelvis rubbing against your swollen clit and stretching your sensitive entrance over his width. Johnny lifts his head finally and you cup his jaw, your labored breaths mingling as you stare at each other.

“Is this weird?” Johnny grunts, hips still gyrating, brows raising.

“You-euhh, it’s a little late for that kitten.”

You pant, locking your legs above his ass, in fear he’s going to pull out and leave you clenching for more. Your heel bumps against the divide of his cheeks as his rutting picks up.

“Fuck it, you’re right. I’m going to enjoy you then.”

Johnny’s head ducks and moans at the sight of your connecting bodies, before his lips suction to your breast and you arch off the bed into him.

“Johnny!” You cry in surprise.

His hips slow, still rocking in and out but to an almost non existent speed. His other hand takes over massaging the first breast as his tongue lulls around the other nipple

Your only response is a pant, your mind blown from watching your friend devour you so intimately. Johnny's eyes lift at your lack of response and you clench him internally at the sight. He releases your breast with a garbled moan, pelvis meeting yours with a deep slap.

“Can you just let me enjoy myself?” Johnny huffs, sitting up and quickening his hips.

Both hands squeezing your breasts as he drags his cock out of your walls with controlled plunges. You press your head back into the bed. Baring your neck to him, gasping, hands fisting the duvet.

Johnny rolls each nipple between his thumb and forefinger and by the fifth roll your internal dam bursts and your spine sends you off the mattress clinging to Johnny as you squirt all over his lower abdomen.

“Shit did you just-“ Johnny breaks off into a groan, hips slowing to coast you through your first orgasm.

Large hands grasping your hips and pressing into the sensitive part of your stomach. He kisses your temple and you tilt your head back to seek his lips. Johnny greets you eagerly, mouth suctioning to yours as his hips still, dick pulsing inside you.

“Are you ok? Do I need to stop?”

You lift your head back to meet his gaze, “no, please, I want you to come too.”

Johnny gives you a surprising smile, and you’re reminded that this is the same man that puts others' needs before himself. You peck his lips.

“Can we change positions?”

Johnny's hands glide down your back from where he was holding you against him, “yea yea of course.”

Johnny makes sure you’re stable before pulling out of you with a low groan. Your release is coating him.

“You’re messy,” Johnny teases, staring pointedly at the droplets under his belly button.

You slap his chest, heat now flaming your ears as he laughs deep, familiar and fond.

“I can’t help it, it’s been too long for me.”

“How long?”

You roll over onto your knees looking demurely over your shoulder at him, ignoring his question, “be as rough as you want in this position, without the clit contact I last longer.”

Johnny gapes at you and you huff a laugh when his cock jerks in the silence.

“Come on kitten,” you lean your chest into the pillow, arching your back and lifting your ass to entice Johnny back to you.

His hands are shaking when they make contact with your hips.

“Don’t be scared, it’s just a little pus-sy,” you stutter the last word as he thrusts forcefully into you.

Johnny is chuckling at the raw borderline pornographic “hngh” sound you make when he rolls his hips into you.

“Little is right, still can’t get over how tight you are, you’re going to feel me tomorrow.”

You moan, knowing he’s right and you clench around him at the thought. Johnny hisses, spreading your left cheek to get deep, thumb pressing teasingly against your other hole.

“Ahh that's it,” he moans hips starting to really stroke, you huff into the pillow reaching back to spread yourself more.

“Don’t worry I got it,” Johnny grunts, hips grinding into your ass in tight circles.

You bury your face into the pillow, biting it at the sensation, body pulsating from his touch.

“You know you basically told me that felt good” he does it again, really emphasizing the circling of his hips.

“Clenched me so hard,” Johnny moans loudly.

Driving his hips quickly a few times, “come as much as you want, I can last a while.”

Johnny taunts and you do, your body jerking as another orgasm tumbles over you. You press your thighs together but it is not enough, so you lock your ankles to make it end faster. He grunts as the tightening of your body clutches his.

“Shit, why is your endurance so good?”

You would have collapsed onto the bed if Johnny didn’t have his arm wrapped across the front of your hips.

He laughs raggedly, “performer remember?”

“Oh yea-ahhh,” you sigh when you feel him slip out of you, your combined arousals dripping around your entrance.

“Don’t worry that last orgasm got me good, I think I’m close, you have one more in you?”

You sit up at that, turning in his arms to kiss him, “I want you to come, kitten.”

He groans and tugs you up against him to deepen the kiss, your legs slotting around the outside of his and you reach down to notch him back inside your swollen cunt.

The two of you stare at each other as you start to bounce on his thighs. Johnny’s hands clench your hips tightly as his calves tense under his thighs. You bite your lip as heat starts to flame up your body again, the change of position has Johnny rubbing against the front wall of your glory spot.

“Sorry, I might squirt again,” you pant as Johnny trembles against you, body tensed with control.

“Don't be sorry, it’s hot. Fuck, I’m close.”

“I know,” you moan, his erection impossibly hard stabbing into your most sensitive places on every bounce.

Johnny lifts you into his lap suddenly, filling you up quickly, breath stealingly. As everything falls apart, you thrust erratically against him as he clutches you. His panting and groaning intermingled with your name.

“Fuck fuck!”

He tips you back again and your hands grasp for something to hold on to as Johnny pistons into you in return, finally clutching at his neck.

“So close, keep going,” Johnny growls.

His hand grasps your throat in return and you cry out as your body shakes through the beginnings of your third orgasm.

“Yea?” Johnny tightens his fingers, “that’s how you feel on my dick right now, milking me with that wet pussy.”

“Johnny!”

You gush around him, cloudy and slick.

“Shittt,” he groans looking at your joined parts “Really has been a while for you, you’ve come so hard.”

Johnny taunts, his lips parting as he begins to fall apart with you. Drilling into your seizing core with loud, lewd slaps you had never thought you’d hear from your childhood friend. Fucking you raw, into next week, literally.

He pins you to the bed by your throat, chasing his release your thighs squeezing his hips as your orgasm keeps rolling. Your eyes locked on his rippling abdomen, sheening with sweat and flushed with effort. You don’t bother to swallow down the whine that leaves your throat, Johnny groans your name in return squeezing your neck as his lips crush yours. His hips falling out of pattern as he starts to climax. He moves to pull back but you dig your nails into his shoulders and lock your ankles around his lower back.

Johnny lets out a defeated whimper as he pushes his release into you, fingers twisting in your hair as you meet his thrusts. Having quietly edged himself this entire time until you'd accidentally uncovered he's weakness, choking. Your bodies move in tandem until you still as the echoes of your orgasm sends your body into uncontrollable shaking.

Johnny lifts his head kissing across your cheek before stealing your breath with a deep kiss and sneaking a hand between your bodies to stroke your swollen clit.

You cry out nails biting into his bicep, eyes wide as you meet his gaze.

“You said you’d squirt again…” he teases

Your teeth clench, head tossing back and neck baring to him as your cunt clamps down on his cock.

“Johnny,” you beg.

He lets out a strained breath as you clutch him internally, “come on.”

His lips, tongue and teeth tracing the path on your throat where his hands had previously been. Your feet press against the sheets, toes curling as the pressure builds, holding your breath.

“Look at me.”

You blink at him, inhaling deeply through your nose and biting into your bottom lip.

“Breathe.”

Your release of air comes out in a whine.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you squirt again, all over his pelvis.

Johnny licks his lips, “found my new favorite button of yours.”

Your body sags into the damp sheets, “who said you’d get to touch it again?”

Johnny laughs deep and tender, as he kisses you softly, big plush presses of his lips up your neck to your mouth.

"Because I'm a good kitten and you can't help but reward me."

You groan, fingers combing though his hair and tugging his lips to yours. Knowing he is right and honestly hoping his visits will bring more Sunday's like this.

#johnny suh #suh youngho #nct smut #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh x you #johnny suh smut #johnny suh fanfic #johnny suh scenarios #smut shots #smut #nct imagines

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lostinlovingrevery · 3 months ago

Text

Masterlist

"You Deserve The Love You Keep Trying To Give The World"

Hi everyone! Call me Van, i'm just a humble girl trying to find my voice in writing again <3 This is my lil masterlist of things I put out so far. I hope you enjoy!

I write just for Logan Howlett (Wolverine) right now, but I may always branch out in the future!

(18+ works below the cut!)

Series:

He's Definitely Obsessed With You (Masterlist):

Origns! Logan X F!Reader (Ongoing)(Eventual smut, 18+)

He's A Demon, He's a Devil (He's a Mutant)(Masterlist)(Moodboard):

Patch! Logan X F!Reader OC (Ongoing) (Eventual smut, 18+)

Vans Valentines (Holiday Masterlist)

A variety of Logans <3 (smut and fluff)

Character Masterlist:

Old Man Logan

DOFP Logan Howlett

Fics:

Skinny dipping

Logan X F!Reader (Smut, 18+!)

Bubblebaths

Logan X G/N! Reader! (Fluff and lightly suggestive)

Beauty

Worst!Wolverine X Curvy! F! Reader (Smut, 18+!)

Pretending

Logan X Curvy! F! Reader (Suggestive)

Disagreement

Logan X GN! Reader (Fluff)

Head Over Heels

Trilogy! Logan X F!Reader (Fluff)

Courtship Rituals

Logan X Reader (Request) (Fluff and suggestiveness)

You Set Me Free

Weapon X! Logan X F! Reader (Smut)

Easy Living

Worst! Wolverine X F! Reader (Fluff)

Pine-Scented Soap

Trilogy! Logan X F!Reader (Smut and fluff)

Somnolent

Trilogy! Logan X F!Reader (Smut and fluff)

Whistleblower

Weapon X x F!Reader

Lemon Cake With Cream Cheese Icing

Trilogy! Logan X Reader (Fluff)

Girls Just Want To Have Fun

Weapon X x F!Reader

Deceiving Looks

Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader

Sweet Dreams

Logan Howlett X GN !Reader

Grounding

Origins! Logan X GN !Reader

Glossophobia

Trilogy! Logan X F!Reader

Oh No Wolverine! I'm Stuck!

Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader

I'm Here

Logan Howlett X F! Reader (Trigger Warning: mentions of SA)

Plant Lover

Trilogy Logan X F! Reader

Saturday Night Laundry

Worst! Wolverine X GN! Reader

Cat- and- Mouse

Cowboy! Logan X F! Reader

Van's Ramblings

Logan Wants To Be Loved

Logan In Love

Logan and Domestic

Logan and Domestic 2: House

Logans a Perv

Logan When You're Pregnant

Cute and Smutty Logan

Cute and Fluff Logan

Random Scenes W/ Logan

Logan Howlett Being Gross (Request)

Smutty Stuff about Logan: The Reckoning

Logan and Fluff: Electric Boogaloo

Logan being Bossy and Domineering

Cowboy Logan rambles

Marriage and Family w Logan

What is Logan like in love?

Logan and Arms

Upcoming (AKA Future Works That I Haven't Touched!):

The Mutants Guide To A Normal Life

Worst Wolverine X F! Original Character (Series)

Love and Bounties

Cowboy! Logan X F! OC (Series)

DOFP AU (Unnamed)

70's/DOFP Logan X F!Mutant! Reader

In His Memory

Worst Wolverine X F! Mom Reader (Series)

Something Strange

Logan X F! OC (Series)

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x oc #wolverine x reader #wolverine x oc #xmen logan #wolverine

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kykyonthemoon · 8 months ago

Text

Till The Break Of Dawn

That girl was Death, and she came to see me on my twenty-seventh birthday.

── .✦ Zayne (Dawnbreaker) x MC (Female Reader)

── .✦ Tags: oneshot, angst, open ending, multiverse, AU, loops, MC is referred to as "Dawn" in this fic, first pov (Zayne's), side characters: Jas, Astra.

── .✦ Word count: ~3k

── .✦ Ky Ky's note: This fic is for my friend Le Juan, and all the Zayne's girlies out there. Happy Moonlit Orchid Day (or Qixi)! <3

It's also my very first time writing for Dawnbreaker.

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

when death

takes my hand

i will hold you with the other

and promise to find you

in every lifetime

— commitment (Rupi Kaur)

Rain. Tiny translucent and frigid particles plummeted into this dark world. The rain fell from the opulent downtown area to the deteriorating, abandoned structures. Under the torrent of water, be it human or monster, it was all the same.

Slow, worn-out steps came to a halt in front of a building that had long since fallen asleep in nature's embrace. Blood trickled over the ground and spread a poisonous tint in the water, yet it had no stain on the pristine white jasmine blossoms flourishing in that desolate place.

Jasmine bid me farewell in my last moments. Perhaps this life was not that dreadful to me after all.

My body crumbled. The rain welcomed me. Cold. The sweet scent of jasmine soared throughout the wind. With my final breath, I extended my hand forward. The hand was smeared with so much blood, from both human and Wanderers, and I knew I was not deserving of it. But I had just the desire to touch it once. My pure jasmine petals.

I had simply sought for one favor; let me dwell in those tranquil dreams with the girl I had always revered.

It appeared as if I heard her voice in the breeze; such melodies to my ears, lulling me into somnolence. I was determined to find her this time, forever.

“Zayne?… Zayne?…”

Someone ran to me from the other side, behind the jasmine bush. She was waiting for me. Just a little more…

“Zayne!”

Her warm fingers connected with mine. I awoke at that very time. Was she calling me, or someone who looked identically to me in the dream?

I opened my eyes and saw her there. She donned a dark robe that swept above the street. She sat down beside me and turned my cold body over. That was her. It was truly her.

Each drop of rain landed on her hair, which had barely emerged from the hood of her cloak, wiping the blood stains from my face. My lips moved silently. I ached to tell her how long I had been waiting for this moment. I had always waited for her. And my wish came true.

That girl was akin to my dream. Her eyes fixed on mine, revealing a mix of astonishment and sadness. But her expression was cold. Where was the brilliant smile that brought luminescence into my otherwise miserable life? I desired it.

Trembling. My fingers moved towards her lips. I begged for her mercy and to grant me this one wish. Yet she spoke before I could touch her:

"Zayne." Yes, it was my name. But I knew she was calling me, not the Zayne she had loved in her dream. "Dawnbreaker."

This was the real me, in this world.

"I came here to take you away." Her voice was quite sorrowful. Had I disregarded her with my unkempt appearance and stained hands? This was not the meeting I had hoped for, but I was delighted to have found her. Or it was she who found me.

Winds. The bell chimed midnight. The cold seeped into my thick layers of clothing. The girl's scarlet lips parted again as she drew closer and murmured:

"Take my hand."

She seized mine. There was something in her eyes. Death. Then I suddenly realized something.

That girl was Death, and she came to see me on my twenty-seventh birthday.

It is said that when a person dies, their entire life flashes before their eyes. For me, there was more than just one.

Countless sights that resembled fractured, patched recollections flashed before my eyes. They were my life, yet not really. I knew them well yet felt as if we were complete strangers. I was once a foreseer on the icy throne, I was once a god hidden in the deep mountains, I was once a doctor in the modern day,... Among countless variables, there was only one thing that remained constant: her.

In each piece of memory, I always found her, my girl. It was always her dying heart, and I was fighting against fate to save her. The instant my life ended, our jasmine flower withered. Then everything went back to where it started.

As midnight was also the time when a new day began.

At first, I could not comprehend what was happening. Everything happened in the same order: I met her, loved her, she was going to die, and I sacrificed my life for her. Our identities might differ, and our decisions might not be precisely the same, yet the ending never changed. I began to vaguely feel that a certain hand had intervened in the flow of our life, driving her and me to follow such a predetermined path.

And suddenly I was Dawnbreaker. In this life, I failed to find her. I had always assumed she just existed in my fantasies. It was not until my death that I discovered she had been seeking for me all along.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in the midst of a thriving jasmine garden. A person's fuzzy shadow appeared ahead of me. At first, I believed it was her, yet as I drew closer, I noticed it was a boy who seemed quite familiar.

"Georgie?"

No, that was not Georgie. The boy with that name had abruptly vanished before my eyes. The individual standing here was someone else who resembled Georgie.

"Hello, Zayne." The small child spoke. I had no idea who he was. However, I got the feeling that we had known each other for a long time, since innumerable lifetimes ago.

"I'm not Georgie." The boy added. "I only took the shape of someone you used to know so that I could communicate to you without causing any disturbance in this reality. If you don't like it, I can turn into a snowflake, a cat or something else.”

“You are?”

"Jas." He responded. "I am Jas. Perhaps you forgot about me. But I remember you, and her."

The name rang like a bell, reawakening something that had been asleep inside me. I asked:

“She… And you. Have we known each other before?”

Jas grinned mysteriously. “Shouldn't all the answers be right in front of you at this point?”

“Who are you exactly?”

The child went around the garden like a butterfly. A moment later, he replied:

“I am nobody. I am merely an illusion created by her and you a long, long time ago.”

“So… this garden is also an illusion?”

“It's all an illusion.” Jas replied. “This garden and all the flowers here are.”

I looked around. Each blooming jasmine brought back memories of a lifetime spent with her. I found myself ready to ask Jas a few questions about the flowers, but as if reading my thoughts, he immediately replied:

"That's right. Every jasmine here represents a life you once shared with her.”

I cast a gaze across the seemingly endless garden. There was no evidence of the girl anywhere. I wanted to find her, to call her name. Yet, I had no comprehension of what she was dubbed in this life.

"She is Death. In this realm, she has no name." Jas said as if he could read the thoughts written on my face. "But you may call her anything you want. She permits you to."

Hence, from that moment on, I decided that she would be my Dawn.

Dawn represented Death in this world. Her duty was to send the deceased to their proper resting place. She had seen me in the abandoned street, where I drained a soul out of torment before they were hauled into eternal darkness, and their body became a monster. She was always watching me, yet I could only see her when life left me. Dawn, like me, had spent her countless existences in this garden.

Jas spoke again, directing my attention back to him:

“Stop looking. She's not here. But before you go mad and run to find her, listen to the remainder of the story first. Shall we?”

I had no alternative since Jas began shortly before I could say anything. Following along the boy's footsteps, I felt as if I were lost in another garden similar to this one, but in a distant timeline.

In the past, this jasmine garden was once the residence of a goddess. Although she was merely a minor deity, her fate was tied to the survival of that world. That divine being was Dawn.

She was born from the purest energies of heaven and earth. That was why, with each cycle, she would have to sacrifice her life, offering her flesh and blood to continue nourishing that world. Then she would be reincarnated in her former body, forgetting all about her previous life. Just as the end of day gives way to darkness, and the breaking of dawn marks the start of a new day.

Things were always going to be like this, then one day, she fell in love.

The person she loved was chosen by Astra - the god of creation - to inherit his power and pass on his will to humanity. She was originally sent by Astra to assist him in training, but in the end, she proved to be his greatest challenge.

"Zayne…" She cried out his name, the person who had always been at her side. They traveled the world together, battled side by side, and defended each other. In the end, they arrived at Mt. Eternal, which marked the boundary between the human and divine realms. Overcoming many obstacles, they learned the mystery that Astra had kept concealed for so long.

Astra, the deity that Dawn considered her father, turned out to want nothing more than to take away the power of heaven and earth that she possessed. Every time she died, he became stronger by taking her energies. Every time she reincarnated, he would bring her back and care for her as if she were his daughter, earning her trust until she ultimately sacrificed herself for a false greater cause. But in this existence, she met Zayne.

"If divine power can't protect those important to me, then I shall need nothing from it."

Zayne had made a decision. Dawn went with him to search for Astra, pretending that he would personally sacrifice her as a present to him while they plotted for the murder of the god. However, they were unaware that they were sliding into Astra's predetermined trap.

How did both of his instruments slip out of his grasp so easily? Astra separated the two, robbed their memories and encased those in jasmine. The new Zayne and Dawn began a new life, unaware of each other and with no memory of their preceding love.

But they still found each other. The thread of fate had long ago bound both of them. Dawn, like in her previous life, must die in accordance with Astra's wishes. And Zayne was always trying to save her. The moment he surrendered his life for hers, the flow of time halted. The entire world came to an abrupt end, then it started all over again.

Astra experimented thousands and thousands of times. The jasmine garden housed every existence of the star-crossed lovers, trapping them eternally in the cycle of love and death. They appeared to have discovered this secret after their first few lifetimes. Every time the flow of time was reestablished, their memories were erased. However, simply encountering each other again caused them to fall in love anew; and whether Zayne remembered or forgot, he would always give his life to the one he loved.

"Don't cry…" Zayne was lying in her arms. He was standing before her. He was leaning onto her shoulder... Their circumstances would alter, but there was always that final moment when she wept and grasped his hand.

They had just recently retrieved some recollections of their past lives before being forced to part ways again.

"Don't cry…" This time, Zayne had her in his arms. His back was against the debris of the collapsed research room. The blanket of snow sprayed over, bringing chilling temperatures. They were on Mt. Eternal in another timeline. Yet even this time, Zayne gave up his life to save Dawn.

She shook her head, tears flowing. They were so close to discovering the truth they had been seeking for so long. They had almost broken this curse of eternal reincarnation. Yet in the end, Astra was one step ahead.

"Hold my hand…" Zayne clasped hers. Death reached his remaining arm and froze it. "As long as you hold my hand like this… I will be able to find you… in the next life…"

"Do you promise?"

"Yes…"

Zayne had not once broken his vow to her. However, if she did not truly die, Astra could not obtain the power he sought. The jasmine garden grew wider with each new life and reboot. He must put an end to this.

As a result, he designed a life in which she became Death, and Zayne could only find her at his very last breath.

"Astra believes that if you die before meeting her, you won't be able to die for her anymore."

Jas' voice sounded out. We returned to the Jasmine Garden. Although the location was the same, this was not Astra's first garden. Dawn and I had poured our powers into this garden. Many eons ago, we had uncovered Astra's secret and secretly created this place as a safe haven away from the wicked deity. Jas was the spirit that guarded the garden and guided Dawn and me back here anytime we recalled something critical. Dawn discovered Jas before I did.

"There were two mistakes Astra made." He said. "First, he tried to control and take her power, unaware that each time she was reborn, the energy source within her grew stronger as well. Second, he was naive to believe he could separate the two of you. Even if you can't see her, the bond between you two still exists in a different way.”

At that point, I instantly realized something. "Our dreams?"

"That's right." Jas confirmed. "Even if the person you dreamed about was an alternate version of her, it seemed like all the versions in all of your lives knew each other in one way or another. She, as Death, has always dreamed of you and sought you out."

I halted to reflect on what I had just discovered, or recalled.

"Zayne, listen... Astra made another great mistake. That is giving her the status of Death. It implies she now has your life in her hands.

"Does that mean this time, she saved me?"

Jas' nod reaffirmed my doubts, my fears. "You should have died and Astra could have her again... However, she utilized the power of Death to stop your time. Zayne, you are still alive."

I already knew that. The truth was, my life only begun when she arrived.

"I have to find Dawn."

"Wait." Jas spoke up. Almost immediately, vines from the garden seized my limbs. "You cannot go yet."

"Why?"

"She used all of her current power to prevent you from dying. If Astra finds you, she will no longer be able to defend you. She brought you here to keep you safe, Zayne."

Dawn wanted to confront Astra alone. I expected this when old memories resurfaced. I told Jas:

“Then it’s another reason to find her. I cannot bear to lose her again.”

I strained with the vines that were becoming increasingly tight around me, even using Evol to break free of them.

At that point, the garden started to tremble severely. The pure blue sky above broke into fragments and decreased. The jasmine petals detached from the stems, drifted in the air and eventually vanished.

"Jas?"

“I have… completed my mission…” His voice seemed to resonate from far away. His entire body perished before my eyes. “I exist… so that one day… you and she can… find what you've lost… Now… you both have made your own decisions… So I will… disappear… and return… the source of power that you both… gave me before… But remember… If you and she fail in… this timeline… there will be no more Jas, no more… jasmine garden…”

Jas in front of me appeared as surreal as a mist. I knew I had to find Dawn before Astra made a move on her. This was the last chance we had.

“Go, Zayne… I can only… help you get to… her…”

In the middle of the garden, an archway made of plants and jasmine opened. I hurled myself through it, not forgetting to gaze back at the smiling boy Jas, whose body transformed into thousands of jasmine petals before vanishing.

I heard Dawn whisper to me at that moment of life and death:

“This time, I will protect you…”

My hand reached out to where she was waiting. My chest ached as I screamed with everything I had:

“Dawn, take my hand!”

And I awoke. Rain splashed over my face. Cold. I was lying on the roadside next to a jasmine with each flower falling and gently dissolving in the water.

I lifted myself up. In the black of night, I went after her traces. I knew she was so close to me. I knew she was calling my name. And the world would awaken at dawn, once again.

I will find you, in every lifetime.

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kittttycakes · 8 months ago

Note

I'll take Dreamling with #8 in secrecy because i'm curious of where that could go 👀

Please enjoy this vaguely heist-y AU!

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” Hob said with a smile, aiming for charming and casual and only succeeding on one count. He leaned against the bar next to Dream, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket, if only for something to do with his hands. Something about the other man made him nervous, threw his decades of professional experience out the nearest window so that it lay, writhing, on the sidewalk, far from him.

Dream, as stunning as ever in a sleek black-on-black suit, took a drink of his wine before setting the near full glass down. He thought he saw the hint of a smile, hiding at the edges of his lips. “Have we met before?” he asked instead, that all too familiar, somnolent voice too close to Hob’s ear to be strictly polite.

If that was the game he wanted to play, Hob could go along with him. “Only in my dreams,” he replied with a wink. That earned him something that might have been a laugh, if Dream had let it develop. As it was, Hob recognized an amused huff of air when he heard one, especially when it came from Dream.

He startled slightly when Dream took his elbow, steering him away from the open bar and back towards the floor of the exhibit hall. It had taken more than a few strings pulled for Hob’s name to be added to the guest list; the museum had increased security since the last time he had set foot in it, and it had taken rather more of Johanna’s skills than it had before, but she had pulled it off: Hob’s name appeared on the guest list as one of the highest tier donors of the year. It was only natural that he should be invited. In three hours, all records of his chosen pseudonym for the evening would disappear. He would never have existed. For the moment, however—

Dream was pulling him through the hall, walking at a pace that would not arouse any kind of suspicion: two men, having a friendly walk through the exhibit, the light refracting through an inconceivable amount of gemstones and gold, platinum, and silver. He took a sharp turn, taking Hob with him, disappearing behind a column and then down a corridor that Hob had mentally designated as a possible exit route if his first four choices failed.

It was only when they were out of earshot of anyone else, and decidedly out of range of any cameras, firmly hidden in a dead spot that Johanna had specifically noted for him, that Dream spoke to him again.

“I’m afraid you and I are after the same target,” he said in that same steady, even tone. “I would advise you to pick a new one.”

Hob nearly laughed. As if it were that simple. He had a buyer lined up for specific pieces, which Dream undoubtedly knew. He was in the same position, although Hob could never be sure of just how much their particular circumstances overlapped.

“And what target would that be?” he asked lightly, watching Dream’s face in the dim light of the service hallway.

“I do not care what else you spirit away, but that ruby is mine.”

He hadn’t thought he’d been that obvious, and he nearly said as much before thinking better of it.

“Ask me for anything else and it’s yours, love, but that’s the one thing I cannot do,” Hob replied, not without genuine regret. His job was regrettably lonely, his only real point of contact Johanna, and whoever pulled her strings was a complete mystery to him. Being a contract for hire specialist had its advantages and disadvantages, and the solitary nature of the work was both at once. It was a miracle that he had ever even met Dream, let alone run into him on more than one occasion. It should not have happened at all, and yet they kept colliding, showing up where the other least expected it. He didn’t even know if Dream was, like himself, working for someone else, or if this was all for his own gain. He could picture him, surrounded by beautiful things like a dragon in its hoard.

When Dream did not respond, Hob continued, recklessly, “This is it for me. I’m out of the game after this, getting too old for it. Can’t botch the last run, can I?”

“You’re retiring?” Dream asked, amusement coloring his voice.

“Something like that. Need to lay low for awhile, might go on holiday. I’d invite you to join me, but—”

“Men like you do not simply give up, Hob Gadling,” Dream said, and Hob froze. He had never, not once, told the other man his actual name, not even during the very memorable weekend they had spent in a penthouse suite in Paris after having independently taken more than €1 million worth of art from a well established and taste making gallery. A relatively low take for both of them, but it had been rather fun. Johanna didn’t even know his name, and certainly not his nickname.

“Seems a little unfair that you have my name and I don’t have yours.” He had little doubt that Dream was an alias, and had never minded that he didn’t know what he might be called otherwise, until that very moment.

Dream smiled slightly. “Perhaps I might give it to you in exchange for your assurance that you will not attempt to take what is mine.”

“It isn’t quite yours yet, though, is it? Really, Dream, I would love to, but the buyer that’s lined up for it is rather keen on it and nothing else, if you take my meaning.”

“I am afraid your buyer must prepare to be disappointed.”

“We’ll see,” Hob said lightly, smoothing one hand down the front of Dream’s lapel. “Lovely seeing you again. I’m sure we’ll do this again soon?”

“Sooner than you might imagine.” As quickly as he had led Hob away, Dream disappeared, slipping further down the hall into the less lit shadows. He thought briefly of going after him before dismissing it; he had his own concerns, and the clock was starting very soon.

Hob did not see Dream when he stepped quietly out into the now empty exhibit hall. He had a finite window in which the entire camera system would be run on a loop: Johanna had promised him three minutes, and he was confident he could manage it in two and a half. She had assured him that the alarm system would be temporarily disabled during this window, but Hob never took such things for granted. He had mapped out no less than seven potential exit routes, should he be interrupted, and had timed each to ensure he knew which would be fastest.

His secondary targets could wait. Best to start with the biggest and work his way down. The ruby sat in its own case, nestled in a bed of black velvet. It was uncut, the dull color of dried blood, and as large as his fist. When he carefully picked it up, it flashed with a hidden fire: it could be stunning, in the hands of the right jeweler, crafted to exquisite perfection. Hob dropped it in one of many silk lined pockets, and moved on.

He had added two paired sapphires and a pigeon egg sized opal to his take when he saw the first hint of movement out of the corner of his eye. Hob turned, alert, only to see Dream, still dressed in his suit from the gala, leaning against the empty display case and watching him intently.

His voice echoed in the empty hall. “You’re certain I cannot convince you to part with that ruby?”

Hob had one minute and forty-five seconds left. “I’m sure you’re very convincing, love. But I’m afraid not.”

“A pity,” Dream said, standing up. “I would very much have liked to try. And I don’t imagine I’ll see you again?”

One minute and thirty-two seconds. Hob smiled, a little sadly. He would have rather liked to see him again. “I don’t imagine you will.”

“In that case,” Dream began, crossing the little space between them with a speed and grace that Hob should have expected, but somehow never did.

One minute and twenty-seven seconds. This was somehow both the most exposed and the most private place that they had ever kissed. Hob could mentally catalogue them all: pressed against the wall on a darkened side street in Madrid, laying back against the ridiculous sheets of the king size bed in the Paris penthouse, in the back room of a club in Monte Carlo—this was different. It felt different; it felt like the most important thing in the world, a moment just for the two of them, in secret, in the middle of the museum floor.

Hob had lost count of the time by the time Dream’s mouth left his. For a moment, that had been all that mattered. He would be sad to see him go.

Abruptly, three very important things happened in quick succession: there was a faint shuffling, the sound of feet in non-slip shoes walking down a tiled hallway and the distant thud of a door swinging closed on its own; Dream nearly disappeared, passing through the room like a shadow in a direction that Hob had never considered and idly wondered how exactly he planned to leave by it; and a soft red light began flashing in the case nearest to him as the system armed itself once again. It was past time to go.

Hob was, he could admit, very, very good at his job. He exited the museum entirely without incident, making it back to the flat he was currently using as his home base without being seen or followed. After ensuring that the rooms were still secure, he at last allowed himself to relax, only slightly. He sat at the table, and began to empty his pockets. The opal had survived in perfect condition; he had been concerned that it could be damaged, as relatively soft as it was, but it caught the low light of the flat in its smooth surface, perfectly whole. The sapphires, unsurprisingly, were also intact; he knew he would see them dangling from the earlobes of some minor princess or billionaire’s wife within a month, but couldn’t bring himself to care.

He had deliberately left the ruby for last; everything else, even missing the yellow diamond he was meant to have taken, was infinitesimally small compared to it. He withdrew it, and nearly laughed.

In his palm sat a paperweight of the approximate size and shape of the ruby, along with a small, folded piece of paper. He hadn’t even noticed Dream’s hand move, hadn’t felt a thing as he had, clearly, made the exchange. He set the paperweight down, and unfolded the note.

Hob had not been expecting an apology. What he received was a command: Burn after reading. What followed, in sharp, spidery handwriting, was an address in, of all places, Wales. The note was signed with a capital M. It wasn’t quite a name, but it would do.

He stood, leaving the gemstones on the table. He had so much to do: a bag to pack, travel plans to make, a note to burn. Hob had wanted to go on holiday. He was certain Wales would be lovely.

Send me a kiss prompt!

#dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #heist AU #word crimes #me: I will write this in 500 words #also me: 1.9k fighting the plot off with everything I have

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missluthorwillseeyounow · 6 months ago

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Supercorptober: Dress

From my Wed By Candlelight AU:

Slender fingers smooth over her arm, and Kara has to suppress a shiver. “I told you this dress would bring out the blue in your eyes.”

Kara finds her mouth too dry to speak. The dress is still warm from Lena’s skin, and it makes her pulse pound knowing that the same heavy fabric had lain on her lady’s body and touched it intimately in a way Kara never could.

The laces are snug but comfortable on her back, secured with the same knot Kara uses to tie Lena’s own corset laces. Kara can feel her fingers at the small of her back, Lena’s touch light, almost nervous, if the minute trembling at their tips is anything to go by.

If only Lena knew how many times Kara’s own fingers had hesitated before, lingering at Lena’s corset laces every time she dressed her lady.

Her fear freezes her hand every night, keeping her from reaching further than what she is allowed — Lena is the scion of an old family, a lady destined for an advantageous marriage to a man who can offer her security and stability. What can Kara give her? She is a maid, with no money or prospects. The only thing she can offer her lady is her loyalty and her love, hidden though it may be.

And yet her yearning keeps her hand frozen as well, the secret hope that she may one day be allowed to touch. It doesn’t allow her to pull away.

For one second — one breathtaking, tantalizing second — Lena’s hand presses closer, braver than Kara has ever been. She can feel Lena’s feather-light touch trail ever so softly from the small of her back to her waist.

It’s such a small thing, yet this is the most intimate that Kara has ever been touched.

She’s had the privilege and secret pleasure of undressing her lady every night, but the line between them prevents Lena from touching Kara in the same way. Kara doesn’t even know if Lena would want to.

Yet with Kara wearing her dress, it’s as if they have momentarily switched roles. Now Lena is the one touching her, and she is bolder than Kara ever could be. Her hand settles over Kara’s waist, fingers spreading with impunity as if she is trying to grasp as much of Kara as she can before they must return to their roles.

Lena presses closer behind her, and Kara can’t help herself. Her lips part on a shaky exhale of Lena’s name.

Even she is surprised by the hunger in her voice. In the mirror, their eyes meet.

They stare at each other for a long moment. Lena’s eyes, made glassy by candlelight, are half-lidded and somnolent, as if she’s in trance. She is the most tempting sight Kara has ever seen in her life.

But… she can’t.

Kara sees the moment Lena realizes her decision. Clarity returns to her gaze, but her eyes dim, making Kara want to take her choice back almost immediately. She never wants to be the reason why those eyes lose their light.

Lena moves away, but Kara catches her wrist in time. She rubs at the strong and steady pulse beneath her thumb until Lena relaxes, a fond smile returning to her face and eyes.

And Kara hopes that Lena understands. There is nothing that she wants more than Lena.

But not tonight. Not like this.

One day, she will prove herself worthy of her lady. One day, she will take Lena far from this place and love her the way she is meant to be loved.

Later, she will lead her lady to bed and retire to her own — alone and full of longing and regret — but for now, Kara gazes at Lena’s smile and makes the promise into her steady pulse.

One day.

#supercorp #katie mcgrath #lena luthor #kara danvers #melissa benoist #supergirl #me trying to art #me trying to write #this is a very late prompt response lol

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currentlyreadingawesomefanfics · 1 year ago

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Cobalt!

#my art #fnaf au #rawr :3 #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #fanfic #fnaf fanfic #fnaf daycare attendant #eclipse #His personality is based off of #sams bloodmoon #just without the extra stabby stabby #Cobalt is the best!#ao3 writer #my writing #Somnolent AU #cobalt madness

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duskandstarlight · 3 months ago

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A Golden Opportunity - Part Five

Nessian Modern AU

Notes: Hi fandom friends, I hope you all had a nice festive period. It's so nice to be back again and to see how many of you still want to read my Nessian unstructured ramblings! I actually had this written before Christmas and intended this to be a Christmas present. And although @noirshadow edited it with her usual speed and prowess, it took a while for me to finalise everything. So, consider this a NYE present instead! I hope you enjoy it and let me know your thoughts <3 xx

Part Five Nesta

Waking was like resurfacing from somewhere unknown, a secret pocket in the fabric of the world carved out just for Nesta. Her sleep had been dreamless, but even so, there had been a sentience to the somnolence. Dark and untroubled, quietly blissful in the empty waters - yet somehow still breathing with intent, in and out, the buoyancy like lungs drawing and exhaling breath.

Yet whilst it beckoned her - the lulling disconnect of sleep - Nesta had known that to stay in it would be cowardice.

For hours, Nesta had felt herself intermittently break the surface as she shifted in her sleep - as she came to recall loosely what had happened, the reason why the sheets smelt different, the very air - only to be dragged back under before her consciousness was able to fight it. It had been out of her control, a protective move that almost scared her. But now, with her consciousness awake and her senses creeping back into cognisance - the waters arousing, growing choppy - Nesta made herself force her eyes open.

At first, the room was as lightless as the place she’d emerged from. Flat on her back, her arm stiff and extended above her head, bent at the elbow, forearm resting beneath the pillow. Wincing, Nesta tried to move and as she did so, she felt a sharp pain in her head. The sense that her brain had come untethered and was rattling around in her skull.

There was a throbbing, bruising pain to her right temple. A waft of laundry detergent that was not hers, reminding her again of why she was here. Of what had happened. Tomas reclining in a chair. The stabbing fear that came from hearing his voice. Her proximity to him. His musky amber aroma choking her from where she sat behind him.

Then, Cassian kneeling beside her. The worry in his hazel eyes as he stared up at her, the warmth of his hand, the strand of hair escaped from its tie. The sharp spikes of pebbledash, the splintering pain. Blood on her fingers. The glare of torchlight. A burgundy high-neck jumper. Slim, deft fingers turning her chin this way and that, rubber against her skin—

Scattering the images with a sharp exhale, Nesta waited for the reality of what had happened the day prior to come as a punch to the gut. Yet whilst the emotions Nesta knew she should be feeling were at the forefront of her mind - fear, shame, embarrassment - nothing came. Not even a glimmer, as if they had dissolved into the ether, thankfully melting before they had the chance to fully form.

After a beat, Nesta propped herself up onto an elbow. Then, when the lancing pain in her head subsided to that pulsing thud, she resignedly rubbed the grit from her eyes with her free hand and willed the room into focus.

At first, everything remained pitch black. Then, shapes grew in the darkness as their surroundings lightened, her eyes adjusting. Stark outlines sharpened into furniture: the chest of drawers opposite the foot of the bed, an armchair hosting some folded clothes on its seat in the corner, a desk across the length of the window.

A foreign room she’d never set foot in before yesterday. Cassian’s sanctuary, where he slept, where he read, somewhere he’d realistically shared with other women. And here Nesta was in it, dressed yet vulnerable, stripped bare, all defences down.

She had thought she’d end up here in different circumstances. Now, it wasn’t something Nesta could even entertain. Her mind only threatened to sabotage her with yesterday. To remind her of how she’d been so thoroughly consumed by the fear of Tomas that she had forgotten to hide herself. And Cassian had seen all of her. Fragile, shaken, brittle. Ultimately weak.

And so had Azriel. Mor.

Nesta needed to move, to get out of her head and the panic she knew would eventually set in. Away from yesterday and all the people she’d exposed herself to.

Swinging her legs over the side of the mattress, she slid cautiously off the bed. Her feet sunk into the soft pile of the carpet and she blindly groped for the headboard, levering herself up only to sit back down again, light-headed. Dark swept over Nesta in a wave, threatening to carry her off, but she gripped the wood hard, squeezed her eyes tightly shut and fought the sensation.

It took a while for the crackling static behind her eyelids to clear, for Nesta to feel her way to the door and pull it open.

Natural daylight poured into the dark bedroom from the large living room windows ahead of her. The flood of light was so sudden that Nesta found herself disorientated all over again. Wincing, she blinked rapidly to rid herself of the pressurised ache behind her eyes in the face of the overwhelming white. Grabbed sightlessly for the doorframe as that dizziness hit her again.

When the world had righted itself, her vision slowly bleeding back into colour, Cassian was there in side-profile. Sat up on the U-shaped length of couch facing the kitchen, a duvet over his legs, his laptop balanced on his knees. What she saw first was bed hair loose and tangled. It fell shadowily over his tan skin. What with that and the stubble shading his face, the dark startled eyes, it struck Nesta that this was a Cassian she had never seen before - untouched by performance or presentation, the pressure to remain upbeat and light.

If it had not been for the worry etching itself deep amongst the grooves of sleep, Cassian would have painted a picture that was sleepy and soft. Before the morning coffee, the rigour of the day that wiped away the gentle light of dawn, the muskiness of sleep faint against his skin.

But instead, his eyes widened further - panicked - as she swayed.

His laptop clattered against the surface of the coffee table as he moved to stand until, just as abruptly, he seemed to decide against it.

Cassian sank back into the cushions with a stricken sort of hesitancy that had Nesta’s breath hitching up an octave, fluttering unsurely, as if it had lost its footing, stumbled.

“Ok?”

Cassian’s voice was a concerned rasp, scratchy in her throat, reaching across the room towards her, like an arm outstretched.

Nesta wanted to reply, but found suddenly that she couldn’t. Instead, she fisted her hands into the wrists of the long-sleeved jersey she’d found the night prior and fought the temptation to rub her eyes. Went to nod but then immediately regretted it when her head bleated in protest.

The consternation etched on Cassian’s face intensified, carving into ravines of guilt. The worry in his voice surfaced again. “Is it your head, Nesta?”

He was still half-sunk into the couch, the position awkward and unnatural, as if he was halfway between standing and sitting. That sharpness in Nesta’s throat pierced deeper at the sight - his awkwardness - her breath growing thinner.

And that? That she could feel.

And Nesta wished she couldn’t, wished she could make it all go away. That they could pretend yesterday hadn’t happened, but Cassian continued - as if he couldn’t stop himself, “I’m sorry about that.”

As he spoke, his eyes shifted to a spot on the wall beside her - as if he couldn’t meet her eye.

And there was such suppressed grief in his apology, a devastation that was further wreckage to Nesta’s insides, that she finally found herself impelled to speak, the words a rasped truth. “Don’t be.”

There was a bob of his Adam’s apple. A painful tug at the corners of his mouth; the curved and unconvincing attempt at a smile. Eyes sliding back to hers, vulnerable, troubled and achingly sad to look at. Snagging at the spot at her temple that pulsed before they locked with hers. “Hard not to be.”

The subsequent silence was as painful and brittle as Cassian’s weak smile. He seemed to realise this and attempted to hitch one corner of his mouth higher into a ghost of his signature crooked grin.

The feeble sight of it was too much. Sensations crowded Nesta as abruptly as something dropping from the sky.

She couldn’t talk about yesterday. Not now, not yet.

Tearing her gaze away from him, Nesta intended to look towards the kitchenette. But she only made it a fraction, her eyes catching on the coffee table, drawn unwillingly to the laptop abandoned askew atop it.

“Do you have my laptop?”

The question was clearly not one Cassian had been expecting. Nesta could tell because it took him a moment too long to reply. It added to the stilted interaction, another brick added to the wall between them.

His concern grew stricken. “Mor said to gradually increase your exposure to the screen over time…”

Awkwardness transfigured into something else, the only outlet Nesta could summon. A muted sort of anger that he was continuing to talk of yesterday, when all she wanted to do was run, stay numb. That for once, he hadn’t read her. Hadn’t understood that her laptop was her income, her livelihood. A story unfurled and coaxed from inside of her head. The strike of letters against a keyboard. The expectant blink of a cursor. “But do you have it?”

A frown knotted Cassian’s brow, but then his expression smoothed, understanding dawning - too late. “Your satchel is hanging by the door.”

Nesta sagged in relief. The doorframe held her up like a spine. “I couldn’t remember…”

She never could, not when it came to Tomas and events like yesterday. It was like her memory was wiped in snatches, huge fragments missing, jagged holes that cut through skin like butter when you tried to recall them.

Cassian’s head tilted ever so slightly, his gaze watchful, his eyes swallowing the light in the room rather than reflecting it. “I carried it out for you, that’s probably why.”

Nesta tried to remember leaving the cafe, but when she tried to cast her mind back, it was only in physical sensations she could remember. The way she had begun to shake as she stood, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, making her jittery. The desire to break into a sprint, to outrun it all, her breath, her lungs burning, so fierce that she barely recalled the phantom pressure of a hand on her lower back, light but steady as it guided her out.

“Are you hungry?”

The sudden change in conversation had Nesta blinking. Despite the fact that Cassian’s expression was clean, careful, neutral, she got the impression that she’d been very far away. That he was disquieted. Or perhaps it was what Nesta expected from him. Her mind jumping ahead a step, waiting for the next thing, reading him so she couldn’t be surprised or caught out by anything ever again.

That had happened before, too.

If Nesta could, she’d allow herself to press the button on the remote and skip her life forward so she was privy to what was going to happen before anyone else. That would rid herself of the fear she knew would inevitably set in, solid and immovable until suddenly it lurched, a weight in your stomach, panic clawing up your throat, heart in your mouth, racing, racing—

Swallowing, Nesta went to shake her head, but stopped herself before she came to regret it. “Just a shower.”

Again, she dissected an emotion in Cassian even though his relaxed countenance didn’t change - disappointment.

But all Cassian did was nod. Slowly, he made to stand as if she might spook.

And the worst thing about it all, was that if he lurched forward, if he even just moved at a normal speed, Nesta knew she would.

“I’ll grab you a towel.”

***

The bathroom was as clean as the rest of Cassian’s apartment. Now Nesta was fully awake, she could see what she hadn’t been able to the day before. Then, she’d only seen the reflection of her pale face in the mirror, the cool metal of the black tap, the underfloor heating warming the floor beneath her socked feet.

Now, she took it all in. Straight ahead, an exposed brick wall housed a charcoal grey sink unit and the mirror above it. Large warehouse windows, just like in the living room, flooded the room with natural daylight including the free-standing bath beside it. There was a large climbing Devil’s Ivy that Nesta only recognised because Elain had gifted it to her a few years earlier. Then, to her right, a walk-in shower partitioned by a black grid glass screen.

Somehow, the room balanced the industrial-style of the warehouse loft without seeming cold. Nor did it give off the aura of a bachelor pad - the latter of which, Nesta didn’t want to think about.

Stripping off, she stood in the shower and brushed her teeth with the toothbrush Cassian had pointed her to the day before. Water cascaded down like warm rain and Nesta closed her eyes to it, gave way to the sensation as heat crept over her scalp, her shoulders, her stomach. The taste of mint in her mouth, the scent of warm wood, sweet notes of spice and resin, suds down the drain.

When she finally shut off the water, Nesta wrapped herself tightly in a towel that smelt like his bedding. Studied her face blankly in the mirror. Drawn, ashen, like she wasn’t really there. How she felt, really.

She tugged on yesterday’s clothes, turned her underwear inside out, put the jersey that she’d taken from his drawers the night before into the rattan laundry basket. Ran her fingers through her hair, fingers snagging on the knots.

Cassian was in the kitchen when she stepped out of the bathroom, her hair wet around her shoulders. His back was to her, and items clanked in the sink. A theme, it seemed.

The bedding was gone from the couch, his laptop was now closed on the dining table. He had changed into fresh clothes, ready for the day, the world, the people in it, like the Cassian she was acquainted with rather than the barer version of himself she’d seen moments before. Only his hair remained down, loose and wavy rather than tangled back into a topknot.

On the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the living room was her satchel. Her phone charging to the right of it, the screen lit up.

Nesta began to move towards it when Cassian spoke over his shoulder—

“I spoke to Emerie yesterday.”

Nesta had known he might speak. Had expected it, yet, the deepness of his voice startled her all the same. Quickly, she tried to recover herself, swallow down the heart pounding in her throat, even though she knew it was too late. Made her way round to the dining table side of the countertop, so there was something between them, something concrete, even though she knew he’d never hurt her. Never harm her like Tomas had.

But her body wasn’t cooperating with reason. She knew it and Cassian seemed to know it too - with his sad, troubled eyes and the way he’d grown very still, his hands still submerged in the bubbles.

Reaching for the bag, unable to look at him, Nesta felt for the shape of her laptop within the material. Tried to calm the adrenaline that wanted to chase her out of breath.

She didn’t touch her phone, even though she could see Emerie’s name lighting up the screen, message upon message upon message.

So, she replied. “You did.”

It should have been a question, but it came out more like a statement, lifeless and unchanging.

Cassian swallowed. Nesta watched his Adam’s apple bob, the way it travelled up and down the column of his throat. “I did. She’s back today.”

“I’m aware.”

There was a stilted movement, a dip of his chin as he processed the lack of bite in her delivery. He placed a mug on the drying rack, the expected clink of porcelain against metal. Him carefully reaching for the tea towel, casually drying his hands. “Well, she said she could swing by and get you.”

Dread was setting in now. The awful reality of it concrete in Nesta’s stomach. Here it was, a whole operation around her, the weak link. The person that was such a mess that everyone had to organise her life. Scared and brittle, pieces chipping away from her bit by bit until Nesta was nothing but that fearful girl from before, afraid to live her life, terrified to leave someone who treated her so abhorrently.

Nesta saw it all unfold in the same moment that she was dragged back in time, to a place she thought she’d clawed her way out of - painstakingly, agonisingly and utterly destroying in its slowness - as she tried to heal. To weather the storm that physically battered her, shaped her anew.

Consumed by it all, Nesta only realised it was too long since Cassian had spoken until the silence had carried on too long. He was watching her again in a way she recognised, reading all of her, too much, knowing that she was in her in head, too deep and couldn’t get out.

The words came out even more limp now. If the way she spoke before was lifeless. Now, her words were dead, buried in the cemetery, lost to an unmarked grave. “She did.”

“Or if you want to stay…” Cassian began, even more unsure now, but Nesta didn’t allow him to continue.

“It’s fine.”

An uncomfortable silence issued and Nesta couldn’t bear it. So, she picked up her phone, moved to the couch. Sat in the exact corner that she’d been in yesterday, when Mor had sat on the coffee table opposite her and rifled through her medical bag.

“Was it wrong of me to get in touch with her?” Cassian’s voice again, closer than the kitchenette. “I thought you might prefer her or Gwyn to me…”

He trailed off, uncertain.

Was it wrong, Nesta wondered, as she stared blankly ahead at the television screen? For him to try and do what was he thought was right by her. To make sure she had her found family around her when she was like this - spooked and fearful. Even now, in his home, when he’d rescued her, looked after her, given her a bed, a warm place to stay when she’d treated him the way she had.

A sudden emotion clogged in her throat. Something she was unable to swallow down. The time in the alleyway, the coffee shop before it, was still a fragmented blur. But she remembered the wall. The jerk of her body as she’d been sick, her stomach lurching painfully. The violence of it. How she’d seen movement out of the corner of her eye and her body had reacted without her will. The all-consuming fear, the sudden terror screaming inside of her that made her bolt straight into the concrete. The way the pain that had come after it was nothing compared to the horror on Cassian’s face as he held his hands up in surrender and stepped back.

And Nesta already had so many ghosts in the closet she couldn’t keep track of them. But this would be one that haunted her as life continued to unfold around her. Something her mind would keep coming back to.

Kind, dependable Cassian who would never, ever hurt her.

Nesta wanted to die of shame but she was too tired.

So, she just said, “It was right.”

Cassian nodded, relieved and then neither of them said anything. He joined her on the couch, in her periphery, on the length that ran to her left, just far enough away that she didn’t feel the fenced in.

The television screen played out softly in the background and Nesta took that moment to finally check her phone. Sure enough, Emerie had left her more than one message. The first barrage had been cursing Tomas to a fate worse than death and declaring her love for Nesta. The second had been about reporting the incident to Nesta’s lawyer. The third set was all specifics, the tone carefully light:

Emerie-Board, 22:12: Plane gets in at ten, Loch Nessie. Shall I pick you up from Cassian’s? I can come straight from the airport and you can stay with me for a few days.

Emerie-Board, 22:13: Or would you like to stay in his bed apartment for the foreseeable future? Let a girl know when you can. Love you.

Emerie-Board, 23:07: I’m taking your silence as a ‘yes, I would like picking up’. So, I’ll see you at ten tomorrow morning.

Emerie-Board, 09:31: Just getting in the car from the airport. See you soon.

Quickly, Nesta replied to Emerie telling her to drive safe. Then, she messaged Gwyn wishing her luck for her exam, before discarding her phone beside her.

“All ok?”

Nesta swallowed again, but that emotion remained stuck, lodged in her throat.

“Emerie is on her way.” There was a pause, a beat where she tried to remain silent. But she couldn’t stop herself from asking, just as she couldn’t help but steal a glance his way. “Did you have to cancel clients?”

For an instant, Cassian studied her. And Nesta could tell by his hesitation that he was considering whether to lie. Thought better of it.

Steadily he met her gaze, locked onto her, those hazel eyes boring into her. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry—”

Slowly, Cassian tilted his head back until it met the couch cushion, but he was still looking right at her, when he echoed her words from earlier, “Don’t be.”

Nesta looked resolutely down. Played with a stray thread of fabric on the sleeve of her jumper that had come loose, out of place. Thought of herself, woven out of the fabric of her life again, another deep pothole in the road she needed to patch up, to mend.

And it was that thought, coupled with Cassian’s earnest expression, that made it happen. The stark, beautiful line of his eyebrows, the way the dark in them made his hazel eyes appear like sincere pools of swimming gold.

It all happened without warning. A new wave of emotion surmounted inside of her, a deluge that was more forceful than before. It rose like a tide from her stomach up to her throat, the pressure of it dislodging what was already stuck there and suddenly Nesta’s eyes felt hot. Her eyelids burned, limned with tears even though she couldn’t feel the fullness of the emotions attached to them - the sadness, the shame, the guilt - just the force of it that wanted, needed to get out.

Everything inside of Nesta tensed, clamped down. Ready to lock down that sharp rush of breath, the tears that were about to swell and spill over, slide down her cheeks like rivers.

But then Cassian said her name and it was all over.

It was the weight in his voice that broke her—the unspoken understanding, the quiet knowledge that she now stood on the edge of something vast and terrifying. She was here, truly here, in this moment, even though the full gravity of it was still muted, muffled.

And still, it was too much.

Control slipped through Nesta’s fingers, and there was no point in chasing it. The tears came unbidden, silent and unrelenting, falling down her cheeks like lifeless rivers.

And she knew Cassian had clocked them. Knew because the silence carried too much weight to it. As if it were bulging at the seams, ready to spill open.

“I’m sorry.”

The words slipped out of Nesta on a wavering exhale, pitchy and uncontrolled. And Nesta’s face crumpled at the sound. She dragged in another breath, trying to stop the flow of tears, but they were flowing independently from her will, her body and mind two separate entities, the latter unable to control the former.

She raised her hands to cover her face, but Nesta forgot about her head and the painful reminder of it just made the tears come faster. Her breath hitched, sharp and strained, the pain twisting it into a higher pitch as her head throbbed relentlessly.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. Followed it with another strangled intake of breath that sounded too like a sob.

“Don’t be. Hey, you’re ok.” Cassian’s voice now, urgently quiet, desperately soothing.

There was the rustle of fabric, the sound of the cushions moving beneath his weight, but Nesta didn’t look up. She knew he wanted to get to her, to comfort her but wasn’t sure if she’d flinch.

That only made the tears come faster.

“Nesta.” His voice even closer now. Pained. “Can I hug you?”

And again, that gentle patience undid her. She buried her face further into her left hand, her right hovering over the sore and bruised skin at her temple as she nodded, forgetting again, the pain it brought.

Then he was there. The couch cushions moving under his weight, as he sat down beside her. It was the heat of him first, then the scent of him winding around her. But then his calloused fingers were at her wrists, prying her hands from her face. Cassian’s arms came around her, the fibres of his sweater tickling her skin, his nose in her hair.

They stayed like that even when Nesta’s phone rang, her focus solely on the lulling rise and fall of his chest. When the ringing stopped, there was only a short reprieve, and then Cassian’s phone sounded.

They ignored it all. Waited until Nesta had a semblance of control again, that surging wave inside of her having crested into quieter waters.

Even so, Nesta couldn’t bear to answer Emerie. Instead, she groped blindly for her, handed it to Cassian when it rang again. Allowed him to answer, one arm still around her, holding her close.

His chin moved against the crown of Nesta’s head as he spoke but she just squeezed her eyes tightly shut, allowed the last of the tears to escape. “Hey. Ok, one second. We’ll be down.”

Silence descended as he hung up. He didn’t pull away from her, didn’t do anything but give her time.

Eventually, when her breathing had evened out to match his, Nesta straightened a little, pulled away, turned her head. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, not when they were this close, even though his chin was purposefully tilted down to look at her, to try and catch her in the serious concern of his gaze.

He gave her a beat. Two. But then his hands rose to cup her face. The movement was purposefully slow, giving her time to acknowledge his intention, to pull away, but Nesta found that she didn’t want to stop him. Tenderly, he brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, swiping away the tear tracks and the action was so pure, so gentle, so Cassian that Nesta found herself doing the thing she’d been so afraid of.

This close up, his eyes weren’t as gold. Amongst the amber, she could see the threads of green in them, the hazel, and she found herself leaning into his touch, wanting more of it. Needing to be reeled into the sudden reminder of the comfort he had always brought her, the safety. Something solid to hold onto, something dependable, something she wasn’t afraid of.

“Sorry.”

It came out hoarse. Cassian’s brows knit together but that calloused thumb continued to stroke at her cheek.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

His breath fluttered over her skin, another caress.

“I can’t do it again.”

That thumb at her cheek stilled. Somehow, Cassian’s voice dipped into something even lower. “Do what?”

But the truth of it had hit Nesta now. Of what was to come. The thing she had not wanted to truly accept. Her isolating herself, ruled by a fear she couldn’t control. She heaved a breath, a suppressed, shaky sob stuttering out of her. Pressed her hands into her stomach, trying to hold in that fear. Stop it from spilling out of her.

“Put myself back together again. I’ve barely just done it and now I’ve got to do it all over and I just…” She stopped, tried to wrangle her breathing under control so she could continue speaking, but it turned out that she had run out of words. And what else was there to say, other than, “I can’t.”

There was a stillness, a few heartbeats where Cassian seemed to remain frozen.

And Nesta didn’t know what she expected from him now. By the end of her speech, she had mainly been talking to herself. Confessing this truth, this understanding that she had to begin anew.

Gently, Cassian layered his hands over hers. And that was his only response. Silent support rather than a verbal one. Helping her to cage in the terror that resided in her stomach, lurking, waiting to leap out at her at any moment.

Together, they walked down in silence. Down the hall, into the lift. Nesta focussed on the sensation of her feet on the ground, ignoring the dizziness, the way the world seemed to streak and whirl around her, unstable.

As soon as Cassian opened the door to the front entrance of the apartments, fresh air rushed in on a fierce wind. It sobered Nesta up and she blinked, once, twice.

Patiently, Cassian waited, one hand propping the door. He raised the other in greeting to Emerie, who was just getting out of the car, before he turned his focus back to Nesta.

For a moment, he just stared down at her. Deliberated.

But then he said, quietly, fervently, “For what it’s worth, I know you can do this.”

Those eyes searched hers as if he was looking for something. A glimpse of who she’d been before yesterday, perhaps.

“Can I—” He began, but then he broke off, unsure. His hair, snagged by the fierce wind, was pulled behind him. Nesta’s own wet strands whipped around her, across her face. It was punishingly cold, but she didn’t care. “Can I text you?”

Nesta bit her lip hard before she released it. Looked away. “Ok.”

“Ok, sweetheart.” His hand inched across the space between them. It hovered over her arm, tentative unsure, before it fell away.

The saddest of smiles ghosted Cassian’s lips, tugging at the corners but failing to blossom into something true. “Be kind to yourself.”

And that was it.

Nesta walked away and didn’t look back.

Tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @arinbelle @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @wannawriteyouabook @lovelynest @melphss @a-trifling-matter @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @lavendergoomsltd @princessofmerchants-reads @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @amelie775 @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @wishfulimaginings @trash-for-nessian @my-fan-side

#nessian fanfic #nessian #nesta archeron #acotar #cassian #acosf #nesta x cassian #nessianfic #agoldenopportunity #duskandstarlight #cassian x nesta #nesta

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it-happened-one-fic · 5 months ago

Text

Hours in the Moonlight: Somnolent Gloaming - 1. Dead Memories and the Undead

Summary: You’d only just started getting used to the slight sleepiness that filled your evenings as you waited for Crowley’s next orders when they finally came. But the time has come for you to meet the oldest clan in this district as well as the multitude of vampires it houses.

Series Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ series/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 2371

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

I didn’t even really know how much time had passed since Vargas had told me he would see if he could get Crowley to send me to the Diasomnia clan next. But it had been enough time that I was starting to get rather bored and had even pulled out one of my old books that I had read countless times in the past.

At first, it had been nice not having to go to a clan and evaluate potentially aggressive vampires. I had plenty of money to last me with the funds Crowley sent as payment for my job as his Hunter. But soon things had become dull, and I’d started visiting my friends.

I’d told both Vil and Leona about my hopes for evaluating the Diasomnia clan next and the reasoning behind it, but neither had seemed terribly happy. In fact, Leona seemed downright annoyed by the very name of the clan, while Vil had cautioned me to be extra careful if I did get to go there.

Kalim, for his part, had suggested I bring a gift when I got to go.

And in all honesty, we all knew that rather than a question of ‘if’ it really was a matter of ‘when.’

Crowley had made it pretty clear that I was going to be evaluating all of the clans. The only one that might not be on that list would be the Pomefiore clan since they’d only just been formed.

For better or worse, I was going to end up at the Diasomnia clan at some point. Whatever that might entail.

I looked up from my book at the quiet sound of knocking on my window, wondering which one of the guys it was. Perhaps Vil?

I sat the book down and walked over, unhurriedly to the window, and pulled back the curtains only to find bright pink eyes staring back at me.

Sam’s face split into a grin as my own eyes widened and I hurriedly opened the window, “Sam?!”

I couldn’t even keep my surprise at seeing him out of my voice, but he merely held up a hand, waving at me with a wide grin, “Long time no see, Little Imp. We had to decide if you were ready to evaluate the Diasomnia Clan, so sorry for the wait.”

His eyes were alight with amusement, but I found myself faltering as his words fully registered.

They’d had to decide if I was ready for the Diasomnia Clan?

It brought to mind Vil’s warnings and had me frowning as I stepped back, giving Sam ample room if he decided he wanted to come in, even though I pretty well knew he was just going to lounge in my window like he usually did.

“And? What was decided?” I eyed him closely, and Sam chuckled slightly at my wary words.

“Well, you’re in luck, Little Imp. In light of what a good job you’ve been doing and your reasons for suggesting it, Crowley’s decided to grant your request. They’re already expecting you at the clan, so when can you be ready to go?” My eyes widened slightly at his words before I gestured to my bag that stayed packed with my various tools.

“Just give me a sec, I’ll be right down,” Sam nodded, an amicable bobbing of his head before he disappeared from my window.

I glanced down at the street in time to see him land lightly on his feet and begin strolling along as if nothing were amiss. I shook my head slightly, wondering if I would ever get used to that before I darted over to my nightstand.

My hands quickly found my cross necklace, and I clasped it around my neck. Letting it fall as if by habit under my shirt to rest comfortably against my collarbone.

Thoughts were already beginning to roll around in my head as I trotted out the door, down the stairs, and to the bottom floor.

And my concerns only increased as Sam smiled at me, turned on his heel, and started to lead the way down the street in a perfectly cryptic fashion.

I knew that the Diasomnia clan had some ancient members from what Vil and Rook had told. And similarly, Jamil had implied that the clan was also quite old since their records apparently dated back quite a ways. Perhaps that was why Vil had told me to be careful and Crowley had been deciding if I were ready? All Leona had said about them was something about some lizard whom he seemed to particularly dislike. And while I didn’t really know if were-creatures could be reptilian, that was my best guess at this point.

I felt myself frowning more as I silently walked with Sam, wondering when we would reach the Diasomnia clan headquarters. We were steadily heading closer and closer to the outskirts of the historic side of town.

In the distance, I could see an old building rising over the other houses and trees that now crowded it. Hiding it from the view of the street and giving it an especially ominous appearance that somehow seemed to call out to anyone who gazed at it for too long.

The perfect Hollywood fit for a creepy old house hiding something that probably shouldn’t be messed with.

In fact, it was a little too perfect.

I leaned forward, my eyes staying on the building as I spoke softly, “Um… Would that happen to be the Diasomnia Clan right there?”

Sam chuckled but nodded, barely glancing my way as he answered, “That obvious, huh?” He shook his head slightly before continuing, an amused smile still on his face, “Yeah, that’s it. The only reason they stay hidden is because it’s difficult to actually get into the building because the gate is so overgrown and off the main road, so most people don’t even bother trying. And even if they do, this clan is good at running people off.”

So saying he turned off the sidewalk, lifting one leg to step over a small bush and crunch down onto a veritable pile of limbs, sticks, and who knew what else.

He held out his hand to me, politely helping me over the bush before he turned and headed off down what looked about like an old goat path into the underbrush that concealed the ancient building.

I glanced around, frowning as I spotted the overgrown metal gates that gave way to a fence that seemed to surround the area. As if operated by a motion sensor, the gates opened as soon as we approached, and I felt my eyebrows raise as we passed through them.

“What was this place originally?” It felt like my head was on swivel as I continued to glance around at what had probably once been a glorious entrance to the mansion grounds themselves. Now it was mostly overgrown, with roses and vines climbing up the fencing in their futile efforts to reach any sunlight that might shine down between the trees’ now bare limbs.

Sam glanced my way, watching as I looked around the two of us and the notably daunting environment we now stood in.

But unlike the other clans, this place actually had the feeling of the setting place of a vampire story. Campy or otherwise.

“I heard that the head of clan’s second bought the place, and then, after the clan moved in, let the place get run down like this so no one would come here and bother them,” I nodded idly at Sam’s words. Silently wondering how much money it would take to buy a place like this that had so obviously been magnificent many years ago.

But now… Now it was more like a haunted mansion where only dead memories resided. Or rather, dead memories and the undead themselves, in this case.

I couldn’t deny that the building was beautiful, though. An architecture of stone and metalwork that stood tall and proud despite its age. Almost like it was daring us to approach it.

And it was true that while I’d been nervous when first visiting the other clan’s headquarters, this building on its own was almost more daunting than any of the past experiences had been.

This one actually looked like it might hold something that wasn’t meant to be seen by the normal person. Instead, the only ones who would go near it would be the hapless protagonists of a horror movie.

Or someone like me. A person who had business with the creatures that would reside in such a building. Once grand and filled with character, but now haunted looking in the way it loomed over us.

Sam knocked on the door calmly, looking around at the shadowed porch with vague interest until the thick wooden door creaked open, drawing both of our attention.

A short man looked between the two of us, his bright red eyes blinking at us. And despite the fact the building matched the entire vampire aesthetic perfectly, this man did not, what with bright pink streaks in his short, otherwise black hair.

If anything, he looked more like a young teenager who was still experimenting with his look and most definitely wasn’t what I’d expected.

But, when he spoke with a smile crossing his face that didn’t even try to hide his fangs, his voice was far lower than what I’d been prepared for too, “Ah, you must be the head-vampire’s new Hunter. We’ve been expecting you.”

I faltered when he addressed me rather than Sam before nodding hurriedly, “Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He let out a light giggle before stepping aside and gesturing into the building, “Oh no, the pleasure is all mine, child. But come in, both of you. Malleus will be wanting to see you after all.”

Me and Sam followed the little man in silence. As per usual, Sam was relaxed. His eyes stayed forward and on the path while I, on the other hand, was glancing around at the aged interior of the building.

It was dark in here, something that surprised me since the other clan’s headquarters had been better lit. But somehow it fit the building’s overall character, and, as I looked around, each room seemed to be very well decorated.

This clan also seemed to be rather large. Vampires filled the building and glanced at us as we went by.

Their eyes lingered on me, but no one approached or even leaned out of a room to continue to gaze after us. Curiosity and arrogance tinged with hunger filled their stares, though.

Sam glanced over at me, letting himself drift closer as he began to talk in a low voice, letting some space spread between us and our guide, “The Diasomnia clan is an old one, with a variety of characters as its members. Both Malleus, the clan’s head, and Lilia, the clan’s second, are ancient, though. They’ll probably have the records you want, assuming they exist. But remember that you’re also here to evaluate the clan.”

I nodded silently, my eyes staying on Sam as the man continued with the slightest of smiles on his face. And at this point, I was honestly beginning to wonder if anything could phase him at all.

“We aren’t very suspicious of this clan simply due to its age, but we’ll be checking up on you fairly regularly just like usual. And you may want to brace yourself,” I frowned at Sam’s words, but the young man’s grin only spread as he bobbed his head to a door we now approached, “He’s going to look a bit different than what you might expect.”

I turned, noting the door we were coming up on and how our pace was slowing. And, confirming my suspicions, our guide turned to look at the two of us with a little smile, his voice taking on a slightly lilt, “Here we are.”

With only those words, he turned. Grasping both of the curved door handles and pulling them open as if they were weightless despite how obviously thick they were.

I inhaled, half expecting fog to come pouring out of the doors like it did in some b-rated horror movies, but it didn’t. Instead, as we entered the large room, the first thing I saw was a young man sitting on a dark-colored chair.

On either side of him stood two other men. One, whose hair was a shock of pale green, stood tall. Almost like he was at attention as he looked our way with a slight frown. The other young man was, conversely, more relaxed as he glanced towards me with almost tired eyes.

My own eyes widened slightly as I recognized him. But then he was quite distinctive, with such pale hair and fascinating eyes.

This was the man who was a human in a clan of vampires and the man I’d bumped into on Halloween. Silver, Vil had called him.

I swallowed slightly before forcing my gaze back to the young man in the chair. He must be Malleus, leader of this clan.

It wasn’t hard to guess what Sam meant about him looking a little different than I might expect. After all, the dark, slightly curled horns protruding from his head and delicately pointed ears certainly weren’t something that any other vampire I’d ever seen had.

He tilted his head, glowing lime green eyes focusing on me and I felt myself go still.

Somehow, this man practically oozed power. Perhaps it was the way he held himself with a confidence that was on par with Leona and Vil’s despite also being different.

A smile curved slowly across his face, and I swallowed.

I was getting used to every vampire I met being absurdly attractive, but somehow it always felt incredibly unfair. Though it might have been the focused way this man was looking at me that made it quite so bad this time.

“So we finally meet.” His voice rolled out into the room, almost like it was trying to cover the entire space, and I felt myself straighten slightly. Bracing myself even as he continued with an almost amused smile, “What do you need, little Hunter?”

If you would like to read more:

Previous: Hours in the Moonlight: Guileful Nightfall

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psid99 · 4 months ago

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Items are arriving hehe

#genshin impact #au #diluchi #somnolence

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 2 years ago

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Hello, Mr. Monster (Six. Somnolence)

Summary: Eros and Psyche inspired Soulmate!AU, Morpheus x female OC/reader

Masterlist

Chapter warnings: trauma, A/N: This is literally half of what I planned on for this chapter. Soooo. Yeah. One of the teasers for this chapter applies to chapter seven, lol. But the wait will be worth it! Thank all of you who've stuck around. <3 You are all dears and deserve big cups of tea and cuddles. Dream’s creations brought him stories.

6: Somnolence

They groveled before his throne by the dozen, sharing tales of the child Aisling – in need, protected by his arcana as she moved through the mortal plane, jetsam in the wake of a better life she should’ve lived. Hundreds more, many of them nightmares, told epics of the woman Aisling – tearing their anchors from the dreams of innocent mortals, protecting the most fragile dreams from harsh reality in quiet corners of the world where fantasy still thrived.

His creations brought these stories to trade for forgiveness the subject of their tales had already secured. Only a few shared their memories because they cared for her. They wanted their lord to see her as they’d found her, and how could the Prince of Stories not love a timely hero in a grand tale?

Some told him what they thought he needed to know. Facts about the mortal with his name and power etched in her soul.

He had his own story, one of a cage and a strange woman with true sight and curious magic. A woman who looked too hard at all the wrong things and freed him without promise or threat.

When he first saw her from his prison, when his restraints shattered and he could see properly for the first time in over a century, hope and loss nearly consumed him. He’d been aware of the place in his essence where a mark might grow before Earth gathered into a planet. Every time he fell in love, he waited for the name to appear. Trapped in his glass prison, cut off from anything that made him more than a fragile facsimile of a human shape, he hadn’t felt anything fill the empty space. He lacked the awareness.

How had he imagined meeting a soulmate? Not like that. Not as that – a nameless monster in a cage. She fled the moment she found him, and he imagined he could see Nada’s footprints in the sand as his true soulmate’s steps echoed over stone.

Perhaps it was for the best. The quaint hell of Burgess’s basement was no place for introductions, and he brought all his bereaved fury to bear in his escape. Even as he found his freedom, he found yet another treasure the magus and his son had stolen from him.

She had been hurt. Badly. And he had not been there. If Alexander Burgess hadn’t already earned his punishment, seeing the crude letters cut into Aisling Hunt’s heart over her own mark clinched his doom.

When she finally slept, he showed himself as everything he was not upon their first meeting. Her clever eyes, blinded by fear and expectation, did not see him. Did not know him.

Though he ached to be with her since the moment he truly saw her, though he yearned to repay her for ending his captivity, a hundred years of helplessness festered like a dark canker in the depths of his passion.

When she did not recognize him in that first dream, he did not rush to correct her ignorance. He welcomed it, and with her oblivious naivety, he took control. In the second dream, it was even intentional. So long as she did not know him, he was… safe. So was she. Or he liked to believe so. Safe from fear and confusion at the clear weft of their wyrds knotting them together through actions she believed entirely her own.

But now she knew him.

She’d seen his face, and the budding trust he’d savored as she came apart under his hands and tongue shattered like the finest glass. He imagined it like shards coursing through her blood. He’d seen as much in her eyes as she looked up from the hand of her captors, brought in silken chains to her monster, the entity she’d readily freed from Fawney Rig. Her growing faith, possibly even affection, cut her from the inside out, glittering in her eyes as she fought against the pain his face brought her.

Once again, he was shown to her as a monster, as a frightful king who might accept such a gift from the unseelie court. His lip curled at the thought.

He could not bear it. Though the two parts of him stood at war – the lover and the wounded king – neither exalted in her fear. Deep within, the mark cut him, too. Soothing her pain when she fell into his hands in their first dream together was far from selfless.

He wanted to chart her, like a star-filled sky, or an endless ocean reflecting those stars. He could sense the elements in her, the base reality of every living thing bound up in her tattered mortality. Wildfires and oceans. Sweeping winds and green fields.

And beyond that? She’d done more with the powers the fae cursed her with than he would’ve thought to ask. A touch of eternity beyond anything human tangled so deep in her soul he could never take it back, not without killing her.

He wanted to do terrible things. To pluck out her heart and wear it in a locket, sundering her from the waking world forever. To wrap her up in splendid charms and spells to make her forget anything she might miss outside the bounds of the Dreaming. To pull her deeper and deeper into himself until they were truly one, until she became a part of every aspect, even if it would destroy her. His desire ached to maul her in some way, to sate his hunger and leave a mark even mortal eyes could see.

At the same time, he’d gladly hand his nightmares the broken remains of any other – mortal, god, or angel – who threatened so much as the ease of her smile.

He yearned for her entirely, and he was not all light.

She felt so right in his grasp when he caught her up in the throne room. safe at last in the circle of his arms. But he was not free to hold her. He required her permission, her clear consent, a reciprocal yearning in word and deed, and until he had that, he must prove himself. He could not fail her again.

And so Lord Morpheus, dread King of Nightmares and ruler of the Dreaming slouched low in his seat, watching Aisling Hunt breathe, at rest in the perfect silence of oblivion as he waited at her side.

He hadn’t brought her to the rooms he began crafting as he rebuilt his kingdom from ruins. The bed was no less grand, the space fit for a goddess, but it was a thoughtless grandeur. Perhaps it was selfish, but he did not want her fear to spoil the joy he’d hoped she’d find… in her home. He did not want her first memories there to echo with terror and doubt.

“My lord?”

Lucienne hesitated in the doorway, hands clasped behind her back and brow furrowed with care. Though he wanted to close the doors and keep these quiet moments entirely for his own, his librarian had been the one to remind him of his soulmate’s fragility, and although she often provided insights he did not like, they were all the more invaluable for his distaste.

“I do not know what to do.” He looked from his love to his librarian, nearly as lost as he’d been when he first returned from his imprisonment, sitting below a throne governing nothing but broken glass and crumbled stone. Then he’d had a course to follow, a realm to repair, even if he hadn’t known where to begin. “There is no quest to fulfill. No correction to make. She is not even mine to repair, even where I am at fault.”

His former raven watched, shifting in place, but never taking her eyes from her master and the mortal he would love.

“Perhaps…” She paused, and Morpheus looked to her searchingly, grasping for hope in the wake of this latest failure. Taking it permission, she continued delicately, handling her ruler like the delicate pages of the library’s oldest tomes. “Perhaps a king is not what she needs at this time.”

He already knew that, but he could not accept it.

“Is my name not carved on her heart?”

“Morpheus, my lord.” Lucienne offered the correction like a balm to a blistered wound. “Not Dream of the Endless. You assume you know what her reaction will be when she wakes, but how can you predict someone you barely know? She knows even less of you, and I’m sure she has plenty of assumptions.”

He bristled. He already knew her, as he knew all dreamers. The facts of her life flowed through the Dreaming, but he only understood them as a mortal would know printed words on a page. They’d shared precious little time. Three dreams.

Would she ever trust him like that again, or had he lost her entirely in his carelessness?

He didn’t wish to agree with his librarian’s suggestion, but he had no ideas of his own, and he would not fail his little hero once again. Could not.

“What do you suggest, then?”

Drawing herself up, Lucienne unclasped her hands and folded them anew in the front, clearly itching for a book or ledger to occupy herself. “I don’t know her any better than you do, sire, but there are some who do. Why not… invite them to share their insights?”

Morpheus closed his eyes, calling to mind the many subjects who flocked to offer pieces of Aisling’s story. Most clasped nothing but small gems, scattered fragments of a grander jewel. But the ones she called friend, that walked the Waking world beside her…

He opened his eyes and looked through the Dreaming, reaching to the shores of Nightmare, where a beast with pretty manners turned at his call.

“Fine Gentleman. I summon you. Come to me.”

The nightmare followed his order, appearing in the room at the foot of Aisling’s bed as the shape of the realm bent to accommodate Dream’s will. Despite his decades in the Waking world, the nightmare had taken up his old duties admirably, and Dream expected Fin, as so many called him, would return the loyalty Aisling had shown him. She risked her freedom to safeguard the nightmare’s path home, after all.

Fin knelt, bowing to his king, but his eyes flicked to the bed, and Dream dismissed his respects. “Rise. You have leave to speak. There are answers I would have of you.”

The nightmare didn’t need to be told twice. Back on his feet, he gingerly touched the edge of the blue coverlet, and asked, “It’s true? The unseelie, they – Is she alright?”

“In body, yes.” Lucienne approached the far side of the bed, closing a semicircle around the sleeping mortal who’d caused so much concern. “But she had an attack of some kind, and none of us are sure what to expect when she wakes. Perhaps you have some experience with similar episodes?”

“I do.” The nightmare kept his attention on Lucienne and his hand a few inches from Aisling’s feet. History and affection bound them closer than oaths and debts. Rot green ghosted through Dream’s thoughts, and he wrestled the specter away as the nightmare explained. “She hasn’t had one in a long time, but she used to have panic attacks when she was younger. Bad ones.”

“And how did she treat them?” Morpheus demanded his creation’s attention. It would do the nightmare well to remember whose soulmate he’d been called to aid. It would do him well to remember his king.

Nothing of the beast faced the King of Dreams, only the gentleman, and though he kept his head down, his gaze fixed on Morpheus with iron determination.

“My lord, I have a suggestion you won’t like.”

There was much in the past hours Morpheus had not liked. He’d cut his throat to ease her thirst if need be or burn every star in the Dreaming’s sky to keep her warm. Sitting up in his chair, he prepared himself to bleed.

“What is it? What does she need of me?”

The nightmare didn’t hesitate. Didn’t flinch.

“Your distance, sire.”

Morpheus recalled the scene in the great hall. His destined soulmate. Alone, collapsing on his throne room floor, shaking and afraid. He wouldn’t have it.

“I will not leave her. She will not be alone.”

Her friend, the nightmare, shook his head. “She wouldn’t be alone. Any of us she knows could stay and mind her, but…”

Ah. Morpheus sat back in his seat, expression cooling as he realized they had only just reached the part of the suggestion he would not like.

“Speak.”

The nightmare took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and forged ahead like a soldier facing down a dragon.

“She was never afraid of you because you were powerful. She lived in fear that you’d take her choice.”

He gave his king a moment to consider the revelation, though even in his brief acquaintance, Morpheus had learned that much. But it was only a reminder, and he spooled out deeper knowledge like a bandage he could pull his friend together with.

“When she wakes up,” he said, “she’ll need to feel in control. Even in the Waking she took space for herself – to find the truth, redraw the borders around what she’d chosen and what she’d been told to choose. The greatest gifts you can give her are time and space.”

Drawing his hand back, letting his fingers drag over the covers, the nightmare bowed. Morpheus read more than respect in his creation’s bent spine. This was the obeisance of a supplicant, one begging for grace rather than offering fealty.

“She’s resilient, but give her a chance to find her feet before you ask her to be brave again.”

Dream of the Endless did not smile down on his creation. The nightmare had been right. He did not like this plan at all, but he had asked, and the nightmare spoke truly. As a true friend.

Loathe as he was to banish himself, he would abide by the counsel of one who knew his soulmate well in the hope that he, too, may someday be allowed to know her.

“Very well.” He rose, and the chair crumbled to sand. “You and those of your choosing will serve as companions, guides, aides. The One Beneath will guard her.”

The nightmare took his orders and departed to gather his fellows. Lucienne waited for her lord, offering him silent company and support as he pulled himself from his little hero’s side.

He craved her faith. Her willing trust and all that would follow. It seemed, however, that he must first give her his own.

“When she is ready, she will come to me.”

.O.O.O.

She roused from the dreamless ocean to meet a crush of memories.

The fae delivered her. Morpheus took her. And now she woke in a bed she didn’t recognize.

He’d watched as the fae threatened to strip her of her own mind. And he’d – he’d always been –

She ripped the sheets back and fought her way off the plush mattress. Not awake enough to land on her feet, she fell to all fours, and the impact jarred her knees, sparked little agonies up her wrists. She dropped flat, belly-down beside the impossibly soft sheets and a blanket that looked like rolling waves caught the threads. She looked at the wonderous bedding with dull eyes. Then closed them, so she wouldn’t have to.

Everything here was his. Even… even she was. Now. Maybe.

She hated every beautiful thing in the room, but she hated herself more.

It was her fault. She let herself believe she was safe, and she paid in flesh and scars.

How many years of her life would she voluntarily trade to the fae to erase the past… however long they kept her, from the moment she passed through the mirror til now? And how long was that? Did she sleep for a few hours? Days? Had the Waking world seen a hundred years as her monster bundled her up in his castle?

Her breath caught like a sleeve on a doorknob, sudden and jarring.

It hadn’t really happened.

It had.

He’d promised her he wouldn’t steal her away or exploit what she offered. He helped with her pain and brought her pleasure, and she’d –

A cold hand with scabby skin and broken nails wrapped around her fingers.

She didn’t need to open her eyes to recognize Jeff.

She rubbed her thumb along an exposed tendon to assure him she was alive, and he squeezed back to prove he was listening, that he had her, that he would stay. That everything was alright and nothing truly terrible had happened as she slept.

That all was still as she remembered.

Despite what she’d seen.

Maybe it meant something that her monster let her oldest friend comfort her instead of demanding the burden of care himself.

But if the first promises had been lies, and his excuses for the mask must’ve been, then she couldn’t trust any peace offerings, either.

The nightmare held her hand, but he couldn’t ground her. She refused to settle in her skin. She knew what would happen when she did. Whole people wore skin – filled with pain, and regret, and longing. Nothing hurt more than that.

She’d been here before. Not on this floor, in this plane, within her monster’s domain. But a floor, and in the end, polished marble or scratchy, threadbare carpet, it didn’t matter once she landed. A floor was a floor. She became hollow enough to forget she was alive, bleeding from a war no one else could see or save her from.

She had to get up. Had to move. Had to save herself. No one else could, not even Jeff, or Fin, or Gault, or

– Morpheus.

The floor had warmed under her cheek, proof of a beating heart she didn’t want to feel, and she turned to press the other side of her face to a new, cooler patch of marble. Maybe the stone floor could leach enough heat to freeze her mind. Numb it. So she could forget.

Forget his face. His expression when she broke the seal in the basement of Fawney Rig and the way he looked down from his throne as the pansy swung above her eyes.

Forget his careful, beautiful hands, and how it felt to dissolve with him between the stars.

Forget the smell of earth. The feel of claws. Of spider silk… The dress. She was still wearing the damn dress.

Inspiration couldn’t lift her from the floor, but fear and disgust launched her upright as she sank her fingernails into the delicate lace and pulled.

The left sleeve tore from her shoulder like tissue paper. Just as it was meant to. A pretty thing for her soulmate to rip off her body. Titillating scraps of fabric that wouldn’t impede a lover. That offered even less protection than she’d thought.

She froze again. Her breath caught on a lump in her throat as visions of another destiny crept like a snake through her thoughts. One where the graceful fingers she was coming to adore destroyed the dress. Where she’d lost herself entirely. Where her monster became everything she feared.

She blinked furiously. Her wet eyelashes stuck together. The air in her lungs turned thick with agony she wouldn’t voice, and the elegant room turned to a blur as she crashed to her knees, clutching her arms close to keep from shaking apart. To protect herself. To hide the body the fae tortured into gleaming perfection for a monster’s pleasure.

She wanted the dress off.

She couldn’t stomach the thought of baring any more skin.

She couldn’t think beyond the tearing pain in her chest.

This is what came of leaving the floor and becoming a person again.

Hands cut through the fog, urgently curling around her shoulders. She jerked back, shouting wordless protest, and a voice reached out to find her where the hands could not reach.

“Aisling, you’re safe. We’re here. Can you hear me?” The voice plucked on memories. Dust and sunshine and green stains on her skin from cheap jewelry stewing in sweat.

“Gwen?” She only realized she’d asked when she heard her own voice. It didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right.

“Yes.” A smile behind hands offered in support, palms up, begging to be accepted. “It’s just me and Jeff. Can I – Are you…” The dream looked her like she was holding a knife to her lover’s throat. “Can you tell me what you need?”

No. She really couldn’t. It wasn’t safe, and she didn’t know.

But the fucking dress…

She pulled at the fabric. Carefully. Trying to express herself as words failed to coalesce.

“I want it off. I feel…”

She felt like she needed to scrape her skin off all over again, but even in her confusion, she knew Gwen wouldn’t help that far.

But Gwen knew her, and Gwen knew how to listen, even when dreamers struggled to speak. “I’ll draw a bath and find you something to wear.”

Aisling knelt where she’d landed and swallowed down rising bile. Even she forgot, on her better days, how physically painful fear could be. Jeff took her ankle, so she knew she wasn’t alone as Gwen swept out of sight to do as she’d promised. Her most loyal nightmare.

She didn’t mean to scare him.

Her chest ached with an old burn, and she knew she couldn’t turn to the same cure that soothed it last time.

Gwen returned swiftly, before Aisling even had time to miss her, offering her soft hands again for her friend to accept.

She still couldn’t stand the idea. Jeff was different. Jeff needed the comfort as much as she did, and there was no mistaking his hand for anyone else’s.

She found her feet on her own, still hugging herself, eyes on the floor. Her stomach ached. Her skin crawled under the sticky lace. As she followed Gwen into a side chamber, she couldn’t help noticing the view outside the great, arched windows. A whole world stretched beyond the glass – worlds upon worlds, even.

Her ordeal wasn’t over.

She couldn’t just jump in her van and leave the Dreaming. Boundless as the fears and fantasies of every living thing, aware of her presence as its monarch, it would hold her until he gave her permission to leave. As she walked through her – ostensibly – private rooms, she might as well be sitting in her monster’s palm again.

Gwen showed her to a sunken tub behind a screen, an indoor pond that scented the air with clouds of lavender. An indistinct set of clothes sat on a low table beside a stack of towels, and a small collection of soaps and bottles stood within reach of the water.

Gwen wrung her hands, fighting to smile. “Would you like help? I can wait outside if you prefer.”

“I’ll be fine on my own. Thanks.” Getting the dress off would end in a fit. Big, ugly tears and hacking sobs. She just knew it. She couldn’t stomach someone sitting beside her, trying to comfort her as she came to terms with everything the fae had done.

She had to wash this new skin alone. She needed to mourn. She needed to figure out which way to swim before she drowned in aimless grief, and worrying what she looked like or how she made a loved one feel would only pull her deeper. Fortunately, Gwen understood.

Her friend left. She stood alone in the opulent ensuite, pulling apart what was meant to be her dreaded wedding gown, trembling as she tried shielding herself from eyes that simply weren’t there.

She took her bleeding heart into the bath, and the warm water tried to swallow her pain. Washing and scrubbing until she couldn’t feel the faeries’ touch under her raw flesh brought a little relief, but missed her scars. The little marks on her fingers from careless accidents in the kitchen, places she cut for spell work, and a hundred incidental bumps and nicks. It looked alien now. Too smooth. Perfect in a way even a birth-bruised baby’s wasn’t. Her true sight detected residual magic that wouldn’t fade in her lifetime from the unicorn’s horn. It made her beautiful. The kind of beauty she could use as a weapon if she wanted. If she was dealing with a lesser creature than an Endless.

When her cuticles bled, she gave up trying to erase the potion’s effects.

And she cried.

She cried so much she was surprised the water level didn’t rise. The bath stayed hot and fresh as she tried flaying herself, and she wondered if had some secret healing power. Hardly shocking, all things considered, but she wished it was plain water she could turn pink with her human blood.

She stayed too long, cleaning her hair, her face, the spaces between her toes. Her intention worked the scrubbing into a ritual. Not all the magic would leave, but she banished the traces of her captors’ essence. She peeled away their staring eyes and casual violence.

She was her own self, and she would make it so.

At last, cleansed in body if not in mind, she climbed out and began the process of becoming a whole person again, with feelings and all. Feelings, and legs, and wet hair.

The towels were so soft she nearly cried again, but she felt ridiculous enough to sniffle down her hysterics and start getting dressed. Gwen had brought something like elegant loungewear. Better than any sweatpants or old t-shirt, they draped around her without clinging or threatening to fall off. Comfortable. Woven from some fabric she’d never touched before but maybe dreamed of, like the plush toy she slept with as a child and the silky ripple of a stream over her fingers. A shawl waited at the bottom of the stack, and she pulled the extra shield around her shoulders like armor. Everything fit. Nothing pinched, or chafed. It couldn’t be the most attractive ensemble, but it felt like a promise. Reassurance stitched into the loose fit that covered her so well.

It wasn’t for display. She wasn’t for display. It was consideration. Patience. A tender embrace offered from a safe distance.

And she was beginning to doubt Gwen had chosen these clothes at all.

She shivered, pulling the shawl tight across her chest, and returned to the bedroom. Gwen rose, uncertain but ready for anything. Aisling waved her down.

“I still… I’m going on a walk.” The world beyond the windows was all Dream’s, but she needed an open sky and a breeze on her face. The screaming child in the back of her head wailed the polished marble felt like raw slate and the close air smelled like soil and mildew. It didn’t, but she wanted to break the association before it took root.

Twisting her hands again, Gwen nodded, and Aisling didn’t wait for someone to tell her she wasn’t allowed, or that she really needed to stop and put on shoes, or that she should act like a delicate lady and keep to the garden. Better to ask forgiveness than permission.

So many of her friends told her stories about the Dreaming. She wanted to love it.

She would outrun her fear, literally if she had to.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #morpheus x original character #sandman x reader #sandman x oc #dream of the endless x oc #dream of the endless x original character #dream of the endless x reader #fic: hello mr. monster #soulmate!au

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