#Week 6 proof sheet

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Rigor Mortis (part 5)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 4, Part 6

summary: You deal with the aftermath of last night. Lyla has a party.

warnings: very suggestive. mentions of sex, vulgar language, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this is so so so self indulgent i cannot express it enough. probably ooc asf: you've been warned.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 8.5k (i'm on a strict plan and had a lot to get through lmfao)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

and they were good.

Eventually, you're bundled into your room in a fit of giggles and with shaky legs. Even in Miguel's hoodie, insisted upon by the man himself, the sheets feel a little colder after he leaves. Initially, he had collapsed on top of you; smothering you with the heat of his bare skin and the sweats that ride down his hips, dangerously low. You're pushing him off, or trying to, heavy and leaden-limbed. Whether it's the weight of that orgasm or the remnants of that blunt that turns your arms to jelly – you don't know.

Honestly, you don't think you care. He's resorted to laying his head on your chest in mock sleep – clearly still high as fuck – and stretching out on top like a housecat. He's warm on your lap; so you bring a hand to card through dark brown curls that rest on the flat of your sternum. 

You'd never have known it: Miguel has a playful side, beneath all the sarcasm and red tape. 

In the morning, he's gone - with only his hoodie as proof that something happened. For you, it's a hazy memory - warmth tinged in the lazy light of last night's high. It comes and goes like the tide on a quiet beach: remembering how he touched you, the feel of bare skin on bare skin, the way it burned when he kissed your shoulder…. 

And it's gone, again. You're left tracing the hickey at the base of your neck, and it aches . A little moment like that, fooling around like teenagers on prom night, and it shouldn't feel as intimate as it does. Groaning into your pillow, you burrow into the expanse of your roommate's hoodie. With a busy week incoming, you can't afford to be distracted – not like this. 

And so, you bury the urge to knock on Miguel's door, and put your lips around the words that mean… more. You want more. It feels greedy to verbalise it, as if you've seen too much of him already. The irony; humping almost fully clothed and yet, feeling so bare. It leaves a strange taste in your mouth – blood, maybe. Maybe he's finally done it: stuck the knife between ribs to find out what colour you bleed. Miguel's a scientist after all; prone to making things go pop and snap , slicing into specimens with a steady hand.

It's too much, too close for comfort and you can't afford it: affection and intimacy in any shape or size was a fatal wound , especially after last time. Instead, you let the morning waves crash over its outline left in sand. A body – blood and gristle and guts – washed away by the tide. 

You find yourself pushing down dangerous feelings. After finally getting comfortable with Miguel, all that progress seems for naught; bumbling around the apartment like a deer finding its legs. The first morning, you're spared a confrontation as he's already gone from the apartment. Earlier than usual, and you hand-wave away that little voice in your head that says: he's avoiding you . 

He's not. He can't be. And you know it because he's able to look you in the eye. Briefly, but it's much longer than you can last. You have a whole conversation when he comes home and it only makes you want to rip out your eyeballs a little. 

You're on the sofa, hands in your lap and antsy. There's a stupid soap on the TV, but you can barely concentrate; head too full of cotton to make sense of the screen. You're so lost in thought that when the door clicks open, you jump half a foot into the air. 

"Shit." You turn, watching Miguel kick his shoes off at the door. Flashing him a nervous smile, you wave limply and turn around to cringe. 

"Heeey," God. You burrow into the cushions. 

"Hey." He's got a plastic bag in hand. He drops the rucksack on his back, and goes straight to the kitchen. 

You call out. "Takeout's in the fridge." 

He hums, and you hear clattering from the doorway. Turning, you watch; sleeves rolled up in a smart shirt. You can see the muscles in his back from here; the ripple of hard lines under cotton. Craning your head, you can't help but be curious. 

"Stop sticking your nose in."

You're halfway off the couch, and stop dead in your tracks. 

"M'not-" 

He peeks out from the doorframe; catching you in the act. 

"You're not allowed to look."

It leaves you spluttering, getting off the sofa like a spoilt child. He's telling you not to look, and like clockwork you're itching for it; padding towards the counters. Miguel must have superpowers the way he catches you, leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed across his broad chest. You're on your tiptoes and trying to get a glimpse into the kitchen. He shifts in the way, tight-lipped and shaking his head. 

"Meant it. It's a surprise." You cock your head, like you can't believe what he's saying. 

You step to the other side and he steps along with you, blocking your view. 

"... Miguel ." You say it slowly, incredulous. You're stepping closer, ever so slightly, but he stays stony-faced and resolute. 

For the first time in 24 hours, since you basically fucked him in the room next door, you're looking each other in the eye. Squinting, you hold his gaze but he barely cracks a smile. 

"Sit down." He says it sternly, but his voice is soft. "Please."

With a flourish, you bring your hands up in surrender and inch back towards the couch. It's the usual chopping and thudding of cabinets being opened and closed. It takes everything not to look back, but you force yourself to concentrate on the TV. 

Finally, he places a bowl in front of you before flopping to your side. He's still in his work clothes, adjusting the waistband of black slacks and popping off the buttons at the top of his shirt. You're trying not to stare, not to drool at the way he just melts ; sinking into the seats like a lolly on a hot sidewalk. When he brings his bowl closer, that's when you inspect the contents of yours. 

"Is this…?" You start, and he hums; taking a healthy slurp of noodles in the process. 

You shake your head to no one in particular. It's the very same instant ramen you've stopped buying, after constant complaints and lectures from the man himself. There's enough salt in here to banish a demon, he'd spit. In retaliation you'd bite back, saying, maybe you'll fuck off where you came from, and retreat to your room to eat in peace. It's your favourite flavour; perfectly salty and flavourful and definitely not good for you. In the broth, there's the milky white and yellow of an egg, with spring onions and fresh veg breaking the surface. Even before you've taken a bite, you feel that warmth at your chest, again. 

He doesn't even look at you, pointing a finger at the screen instead. 

"I thought Jenny was dead?"

You clear your throat of that lump, rising up like a fishing boat spit up by the waves. 

"That was her twin sister, Jane."

"...I thought Jane was dead." He frowns. 

"No, no, Jane faked her death in the mining accident; and ran off with all that inheritance money… were you paying attention last episode?"

"No, you watched it without me."

"Yeah, but you said you hated this show–"

" –only because it's a total rip-off of La Patrona ," 

"And yet, you're begging me not to watch without you–" 

"Begging seems a little strong–" 

He's kept his sharp tongue, and you're too occupied with arguing to notice the hand wrapped around the back of the sofa; how you're both inching closer until your legs come to rest on his own. You're focusing on his lips, drawn in by a pull that seems stronger than gravity. 

He's saying your name, and you snap out of it. Blinking up at him, a deer in headlights, you remember yourself and look away. Tension pulls at the both of you, a string as thin as fishing wire that snaps with your realisation. You like the way he looks, flushed and flustered after a long day. You could make him feel even better, right now, if he wanted it. You'd drop to your knees and wrap a hand around his cock, pulling those beautiful sounds out of him – the very same ones you'd fucked yourself to the thought of, not so long ago. 

If, being the key word. And with the way he shifts back, away from you, you're not too sure if last night was a flash in the pan or something more. 

Everything about Miguel screams dangerous; flags in deep scarlet that are telling you to stay the fuck away. He doesn't commit, sleeps around; refusing to define or put a label on any significant relationship in his life. He won't even admit, say the words, that he's fucking a half-dozen girls right now; even when you've got concrete proof in the form of messy lips and banging on the walls. Okay, maybe half a dozen is a stretch; but three girls, on three separate, multiple, occasions for sure. Probably; you haven't technically seen anything but if the precision of last night was any indicator – the terrifying speed at which he made you fold like a lawn chair – he had significant experience. He was a fucking veteran; dedicated to the sport for the love of the game. 

You find yourself caught in his web all the same; kicking yourself at your naivete. He's turned away now, seemingly unfazed, making little comments at the show you've got on TV. It's becoming increasingly clear where you stand: caught in a game of chicken with your roommate – a man with balls of steel, if last night was any indicator. You're ill equipped to deal with such levels of conflict avoidance, despite years of hands on experience. 

The question remains, stuck in the gaps of your teeth like udon, thick and dense and chewy: how exactly does he feel about you? Where do you belong? 

~~~

It's been quite the week and a half, mostly spent trying to make sense of Miguel. One minute you're at each other's throats, and the next, he's talking you through rate laws and kinetics equations. Apparently , you've got a lecturer he used to have, and he insists on sidling up to you on the dining table; prodding at your paper and liberally crossing out errors. His inconsistency has you irate ; and it means you get petty, picking fights and laying easy bait. Frustratingly enough, all it does is make that tension worse; thick and choking ; in your little apartment. 

The only thing you have to look forward to is the party at Lyla's; of which you've volunteered to help set up. It means food, and drink, and a couple hours of respite, hopefully. 

On the day, you get to Lyla's early. Miguel's at work, promising to be there in a couple of hours, and so you take the subway instead. Yet again, walking up to her apartment feels like another world – one of marble and faux fur and lots of animal print. When she lets you up, you're left with only your thoughts and the quiet hum of the elevator. In the mirrored wall, you take stock of your outfit: snug denim and a little shirt. Admittedly, your wardrobe felt a little lacking – jeans and a nice top being your go to. Right now, your only hope is that the dress code would be more forgiving. 

The door swings open and Lyla's pushing you towards the living room, chattering away at a mile a minute. It's overwhelming as you're dragged into the light, half a dozen boxes and its miscellaneous contents strewn onto the floor. 

"–and Jess has the nose of a bloodhound, so if anything seems even a little off, she'll know… "

You nod slowly as Lyla squeezes your arm with so much force, it cuts off blood supply. 

"Like clockwork. We need this to run like clockwork."

Fingers numb, you watch as her features set; a wide smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and shadow that cuts her face just so. Overcast and dramatic; simply put, it's terrifying. 

There's a loud Pop! from behind, making you jump. 

"... sorry !" Peter's voice rings out, and there’s a tangle of brown hair and dark eyes peeking over the kitchen island. 

Walking over, you can see he's splayed out on the tiles, balloons littered all over the place. A balloon pump, long discarded, sits in its packet at barely an arm's length. More importantly, though, he's got a bundle of red hair and freckles in his arms; little May, sniffling and whining with what's left of a balloon between chubby fingers. 

"Might need some help, over here…" He says it softly, rocking the little girl in his lap. 

Lyla rolls up non-existent sleeves, face scrunched up in concentration. She closes her eyes ; fingers dancing as if typing on non-existent keys. 

"...okay, okay, change of plans." She turns to you, eyes wrenched open and hands clasped together – Machievellian in nature. You suppose; with the sheer extent of her party planning skills, able to pull strings this way and that; it fits. "We've got exactly 3 hours and 23 minutes before everyone else arrives, plus about 17 minutes, give or take, before Jess does."

"How do you kno-" You start, but Peter presses a finger to his lips. She's in the zone, he seems to mouth. 

“I need you and Pete to get these balloons done, and then we can set up the archway. I’ll call Ben, ask him where the fuck he is, and then we’ll see if we can get some banners and streamers up…. God , and the food…. think I need to threaten someone at the catering company, give me a sec,” She stalks off, muttering something that sounds important. Pete shrugs, kicking over a box of balloons; black, white and gold, a lot fancier than you had expected. May is eased off of his lap, and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She sniffles, holding her head up bravely. It's probably the cutest thing you’ve seen all year.

“I give her 5 minutes before she realises Miguel’s going to be late.”

“...and God help us when she does.” You finish for him, settling down on the cool marble. 

You make a start on the balloons, opening the untouched packets and pulling out a shiny pump.

“How long have you known each other?” You busy your hands by stretching the neck of a deceptively small balloon.

“Oh, Lyla?” He frowns. “A couple of years, maybe. We met because of Miguel – same with Jess and Ben, actually.”

It's your turn to frown. Miguel was the glue? It’s a picture that doesn’t quite match up with the meet-cute that you were painting in your head. If they met because of your roommate, it must’ve been a contentious group project, or someone rear-ended in the parking lot, that brought them together: something with a lot of shouting and arguing, you decide. 

Maybe Pete sees the surprise on your face, because he adds, “I’ve known Miguel for longer, though… and he’s a lot nicer than people give him credit for.”

“...I didn’t say he wasn’t.” Nice? Not a chance. 

“But you were thinking it. Promise, once you get to know him–”

He’ll give you a mind-numbing orgasm and pretend it never happened. Or something like that.

“ –he gets less confusing?” You grumble. “I’ve seen enough, I think.”

“So maybe he’s a bit of a prick. But under that cold, stony exterior; buried deep, deep, deep…”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Deep down , somewhere, he’s got a heart.”

“I just,” You pause, choosing your next words more delicately. “I didn’t expect his friends to be like you guys. Fun and–” …a little batshit, and… “ – spontaneous. He’s so stoic sometimes, it’s worrying. Like, he’ll just blank out on the couch–”

“–frowning in the corner like the wall’s pissed him off personally? Yeah, I’ve seen that one a few times.”

“He’s just so hot and cold! Sometimes we’re good and almost friendly, and then all of a sudden he’s avoiding me at all costs, holed up somewhere. A-And then he’s making me breakfast, like that blip didn’t even happen… did I do something wrong? Has he said anything to you? I-I just want him to–”

The man besides you chuckles. And then, you flash him a violent look that has him flattening his features in a hurry.

“He just… takes some time to warm up, s’all. He’s changed – changing. I mean, we went to highschool together and I didn’t even realise ‘til we met again in college.”

“You went to highschool with him?”

“Yeah, but I was like, 2 grades ahead of him. We didn’t really talk except… we were both in this robotics club afterschool.”

“Robotics? Wires, and circuit boards, and–”

“ –robots. Honest-to-God, hand-on-heart, stupid little robots. And being teenagers with way too much time on our hands, we’d build ‘em, and then make ‘em fight to the death. Miguel… he took it way more serious than everyone else there. We’d mess around with goobers and battlebots – hell, sometimes we’d skip to get food. He was.. He was always there, though, hunkered down in the corner and tinkering away at something.” 

“Now, I wasn’t popular in highschool, at all – I went to Robotics Club , so I think that about sums it up – but I remember… no-one could really understand him. Top of his class, always up for awards, but people thought he was a little weird. Come rain or shine, he’d always be in that corner seat with a screwdriver basically glued to his hand. And we didn’t have a clue what he was building.”

He seems wistful, thinking back to that time. 

“When I finally asked him what it was, at the end of maybe… 2 semesters,” He smiles, one that deepens his dimples and brushes the corners of his eyes. “He finally told us. It was a… a fucking arena for all the stupid stuff we built. He’d really thought it through, too: all our equipment would get jumbled up, so he made little boxes and sections to separate them in. There was an LED pad he’d programmed to keep a scoreboard. It was made out of this… self-healing vinyl so we wouldn’t need to replace it too often. He got so excited when he was explaining it all; about how it folded up so we could bring it with us when we changed classrooms, and… honestly, I think they still have it there.”

He sighs. “I think that’s all he knows how to do, y’know. That’s the language he speaks, the only one he really understands. Taking care of people, giving them what they need. You’re barely friends with Miguel, then all of a sudden he’s giving you hangover cures cooked up in his kitchen, and cussing you out in the morning, ‘cus you went a little too ham after a breakup. Or…he’s bringing pizza to your apartment at 3 in the morning, ‘cus he knew you were lying about being okay after your Uncle’s funeral.”

He’s got a faraway look in his eyes, an absentminded hand in May’s. Her stubby fingers curl around his, and then he’s back, snapped out of that distant daydream.

“Give it time. He’s been through some shit. Miguel’s got layers, like–”

“Like an onion?” You offer, weakly.

“No, no. Like one of those cheese wheel things that May likes so much. With.. with the wrapper and the waxy red stuff on the..?” He handwaves it away. “Forget it. MJ knows what they’re called.”

~~~

You put your back into helping set up. You don't quite get the theme, but Lyla explains it all whilst you hang the contents of those boxes on the wall: a maximalist, hedonistic mish-mash of food, drink and decor. She wants it to feel like if Gatsby three raves, and actually fucked that sad twink – whatever that means. The visual representation of an orgasm, but classy, she says. More, more, more; and if your back doesn't hurt by the end of it, then it's not enough. 

She's got you hauling ass across her front room, draping fabric and moving furniture like it's your job. Ben arrives and between the four of you (five, if you include May clambering on decor), it's all done. You can't help but think she's done a great job: the whole room decked out to look like the cover of an expensive wedding in Vogue – excessive but in a way that's only classy when rich people hire someone else to do it. Lush fabric in lieu of streamers draped on the walls, balloons sculpted into arches and tastefully dotted around the floor. The theme is black and white, with hints of gold, and gentle strings of pearl hang from ceilings and walls. It looks good, because it has to; Lyla's made you move everything around about a million times. 

Gleefully, she rubs her hands together, turning to all of you. "Food's going to be here in 10, I think. You guys get changed and I'll double check when Miguel's bringing the cake."

Peter and Ben disperse into various rooms – with Peter noticeably rubbing his back, May on his arm. You're left with Lyla, awkwardly looking towards her for guidance. 

"...get changed?" You look down at your woefully casual outfit. It seems you've come completely unprepared. 

"Yep. Miggy didn't tell you about the dress code?" 

…it's becoming increasingly difficult to cut your roommate some slack. With everything that's happened, rather conveniently, he's neglected to make any mention of a dress code. 

Sheepishly, you start, "I didn't know, shit –" 

Lyla cuts you off and brings a hand up to silence you. Bouncing on her toes, she's almost giddy with excitement. 

"I know exactly what you can wear!" 

She leads you upstairs to her room. You perch on her bed; and whilst you grapple with the fact that she even has an upstairs, you lose her in the deep depths of a walk-in. Lyla rummages through almost cartoonishly; wading through fur and leather and giant coats like an explorer hacking through dense forest. Eventually, she resurfaces, waving a bundle of white fabric. She hands it to you with a grin. 

She gives you some room, pushing you through the double doors of her closet to get changed. The dress feels amazing on: well-made, thick fabric and endlessly snug in all the right places. In the mirror, you marvel at how such a simple garment transforms you: a silky slip that stops about mid thigh, draped beautifully on your shoulders, and hugging your hips like a glove. There's a little slit at the side that stops just a bit higher than you'd usually be comfortable with, but… it works. Incidentally, your makeup and hair compliments the look; soft and pretty and–

You hear a small gasp from behind the door. Lyla's got her head peeking out into the room, and then she's at your side with a gentle hand on your arm. She spins you around in front of the mirror. 

"You look…" Her eyes light up, marvelling at you. " Gorgeous. You have to keep it."

"No, I can't… I won't . I was already underdressed, and this must have been expensive. I can't."

"No shit, of course it was expensive. But that's not a good enough reason… I barely wear it, and I've got more than enough clothes. Keep it ." She's smiling, head just over your shoulder in the mirror. 

"It's not too much…?" 

"Honestly, babe, it's not enough." She giggles. "D'you like it?" 

It feels weird to look at yourself like this, dolled up and pretty – contrasting how you've felt in the past few months. It feels like you've been in survival mode; exhausted and perpetually tired. On, all the time, and sick with worry about one thing or the other. You've forgotten to take care of yourself, and as a result, this feels different. 

Lyla notices: the way you stand up a little straighter and adjust your hair; the way you try your hardest to clamp down a smile. Do you like it? Slowly but surely, you nod. 

"You're allowed to like it, y'know," She says, softly. "You look happy. You look good. "

You believe it, when she says it. You let that feeling carry you down the stairs; one hand on the railing and Lyla babbling away with an arm looped around yours. 

~~~

Miguel is late – really late .

He was meant to be at Lyla'a about an hour and a half ago, which means he's rushing to get the cake. For once, at least that goes smoothly; and he picks up a little red velvet affair, piped to perfection and with " Happy 27th, Jess!" written on its face. It keeps him company on the way to the party, sitting snug on the passenger's seat as he drives more carefully than before. He figures it's better to be safe than sorry; already this late, there's no need to add cake smasher to the list. 

The day's been draining, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with his favourite podcast. He knows his friends like the back of his hand, and knows that when Lyla says a small celebration for Jess, just a house party ; what she means is going the whole 9 yards, an excess of food and drink and disgustingly expensive decor, all for the sake of a birthday. He's had a glimpse of the guest list, and recognises about half of the people there – Lyla's too friendly for her own good, he thinks. He'd tried to talk her out of it, knowing Jess would be more than up for a smaller dinner, but she had her mind set. And it's impressive, what she's no doubt managed to achieve in the past few weeks of meticulous planning. 

Nevertheless, it's not something he has the energy for, right now. Work had been a slog; and he'd had a couple hours of lectures before a meeting with his thesis supervisor – where she had ripped his outline to shreds, frankly. He's still sore from that verbal lashing, but fears the one he'll get from Lyla more, if he doesn't come. 

And… and there's you, headstrong and stubborn and insisting on attending; even though he had made it abundantly clear you were under no obligation to do so. It must be out of spite, he thinks. But with the dress code, he can't help but daydream as to what you'd look like; maybe, a pretty little dress on, hair done a bit different, and… ohhh fuck. He didn't tell you about the dress code. 

He's gripping the steering wheel, annoyed at himself for such a little slip up. And it's not just the fact that he's forgotten; but he knows, considering the past few days, you might take it the wrong way. He's not stupid ; he knows he's been wishy-washy, all because it's hard to decide how he wants you or if he should. More than anything, he feels guilt; getting you high and oh-so close to fucking you, just the way you deserve, and then… he can't. It's hard to explain, and even harder for him to wrap his head around. That logical part of him screaming: you can't fuck your roommate without consequences. But he's already had a glance into Pandora's box, a taste of that sweet fruit – of temptation , strong and heady. 

It's that taste left in his mouth, of something sweet, that lingers when he walks into the party. The door's open, but even from down the hallway he can feel it: the rattle and shake of pumping music. He squeezes himself in, dodging the mass of bodies packed into the main room. The lights are low, music loud and the celebration well underway. More than anything, he's hoping it's so busy he can just show his face for a bit, and then slip out. 

He towers over other people, shuffling past, giving a nod or hello to all the people that slap his back and greet him. A scattered chorus of 'Hi' s and 'S'up, Miguel's, and then he's placing the cake on the counter, pushing past half-empty drinks and beer bottles. He snatches one up, looking around. He's watching for the furred collar that Lyla's no doubt wearing, or mousy brown in the neon lights; but with the pumping mass of bodies, he can't see much. 

He's ready to check upstairs when the crowd parts, and he sees you ; swirling in the mass. It makes his chest bloom with heat; you're gorgeous, dressed in white like an angel and smiling in a way he's never seen before. And then, his heart stops as someone else comes into view: another man, somewhat taller than you. There's an arm wrapped around your waist, and the man dances up against you in a way that makes something cold and bitter flare up within him. Miguel stays glued to the spot, for some reason, unable to take his eyes off of you: illuminated in the light, beautiful and flowing like a spectre. And like nails on a chalkboard, all he can do is watch as you dance up against someone else. 

His mouth goes dry, and then he's making a beeline for the double doors at the back; a glassy entrance to a balcony tucked away. The air is stifling in there, but when he's on the balcony, finally, he's able to breathe. 

There's someone nursing a brightly coloured drink, in its corner. Jess, big hair braided back and a velvety red jumpsuit on. She turns at the clatter of the door opening, before bursting into a wide smile. 

" Miguel!" She cheers, enveloping him in a hug. 

"Hey," He smiles warmly, sinking into her arms.  "Happy birthday, Jess."

"Thank you, kindly." She curtsies, producing a faux southern twang and laughing all the same. Then, she wags a finger at the man in front of her. "You're late . "

He rubs his temples. "I.. I know."

"Lyla's gonna fucking kill you. "

"I know."

She gives him a playful punch. "You okay, over there?" 

He gives her a rueful smile. "Yeah, Jess. Of course. When am I ever not okay?" 

"I've got a list, big guy, but we'll be here all day." 

She laughs and Miguel glances over through the glass; drawn to you even now. The song's changed, a bass line that rattles the panes, and you're still glued to that guy . Just as quickly, he looks away. 

With a front row view to that display, Jess raises an eyebrow. She follows his gaze, connecting the dots. 

" Oh. " Her voice is gentle. "S'that her?" 

" Her?" Miguel echoes.

" Her . Your roommate. The one Lyla says you're fucking."

"You and I both know– " 

"Okay, okay, maybe she didn't say those exact words…. but there's something there, for sure."

"Not possible . " He says it plainly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

She leans against the railing, taking a careful sip of her drink. 

"Xina says you're doing stupid shit to impress her. Peter says you're making heart eyes whenever she's in the room. Ben says– "

"Xina? What's she got to do with anything?" He's deflecting, Jess notes. Miguel, usually so quick with the sarcasm, and he's refusing to touch the other half of what she said. 

"...you're tutoring half of her classmates."

He purses his lips. "Yeah, but I didn't think –" 

"...you didn't think girls would talk?" She splutters. Of course it sounds stupid, when she puts it like that. 

"Yeah, well, Xina's still not talking to me , so…" He trails off, shaking his head. 

"It's almost as if you broke her heart into a million tiny pieces, Mig." She rolls her eyes. "Get your head out of your ass, man." 

She turns to face the city and Miguel does the same, with a heavy sigh. It's quiet for a moment, with only the sound of cars below and dull thrum of speakers behind to keep them company. He's always liked this, he thinks. A moment of calm with Jess, the only sane person for miles around. They're able to sit in comfortable silence, in a half-minute that transcends words. 

He reaches into his front pocket, pulling out a little parcel that's wrapped up in red paper. He nudges Jess, handing the present over. 

"Happy birthday." 

She smiles, tearing into the little package. Then she stops halfway, heart melting at what peeks through. 

" Miguel… " She coos, a hand on his arm to steady herself. Out of the packing paper, she produces two little boots; red and blue and made of soft wool. "How did you…?" 

"It wasn't obvious, but… sick in the mornings, switching to soda when we go out to a bar…" He allows himself a smile. "And I asked what's-his-face, just to be sure."

"See, I can't tell if you actually don't know my husband's name or–" She cuts herself off with watery laughter. "F-Forget it. Fuck, I'm gonna cry all this makeup off,"

He takes a sharp intake of air. "They were… mamá made them." 

"Thank you, oh God . I know how much this–" 

He cuts her off with a hand wave, as if to say; don't worry about it. "Sorry I couldn't come to the wedding. Your husband seems nice, and he treats you well. Although , he's kind of–" 

" Corny . Yeah, we get that a lot." She's half laughing, half crying, fanning her face to stop her mascara from running. 

He wraps a big arm around her, pulling Jess into his side. Happy tears, he hopes as she blubbers. 

"I think m'getting too old for this… we don't see each other enough, lately… a-and I would've been happy with the dinner, then Lyla told me there was an emergency over here–" 

"She did good. Really good. Don't tell her I said that, though."

She nods, bringing a finger to her lips with a smile. "And you don't tell the other's about…"

"Of course not. When you're ready, Jess."

"I love you, man." She grins wide, and Miguel returns it with one of his own; an increasingly rare megawatt smile. It quickly falls with her next words. 

"If you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll break your kneecaps and blame it on the hormones." 

She grabs his beer, opening it with her teeth, and hands it back to him. A little scared, Miguel takes a healthy swig. 

"Oh, shit. " Jess exclaims, batting his arm. "I completely forgot. Lyla's got some stupid games on, upstairs."

"Who with?" 

"The usual suspects, Mig – though Peter's long gone and… I don't even know where Ben goes, actually. But you can bring your girlfriend up, if you promise not to eyefuck her across the room."

" Gross , Jess."

She raises a hand up in surrender, leading the way back inside. 

~~~

Miguel's here all of a sudden, and in a moment you thought would be more of a bang ; you lock eyes with him as Jess herds you upstairs. It's less of a sharp pain at the ribs and more of a crescendo; pooling warmth spreading to fingers and toes. He's still in his work clothes: crisp white shirt with a couple buttons undone, and black trousers. A little formal, and yet, he doesn't feel out of place; wearing the monochrome of the dress code, and looking twice as good as any man in the room. Somehow, you've forgotten how tall he is; lumbering over everyone else as he cuts between the crowd. He snakes behind you, giving you a strange look as you walk up the stairs. All of a sudden, you're weary of your dress, tugging down its hem as best you can. Miguel stays behind you, a gentle hand at the small of your back. 

"You're okay," He whispers, sending shivers down your spine. " I've got you ."

He doesn't mean it like that , but it's too easy for you to close your eyes and imagine what it could be; words he kissed into skin when you're on top, struggling to take his length. 

You ignore that coil tightening at the pit of your stomach, choosing instead to focus on Lyla stumbling through the door,  trademark pink shades slipping down her nose. Behind her, there's a little sitting room; plush furniture and a massive tv – with quite a few consoles in the corner, you note. She shouts your name, barely audible over the music. 

" – oh, and hi, Miguel!" She's too drunk to be mad, and you don't notice Miguel visibly relaxing. She takes your hand, calling over to Jess just behind you. "We saved you a mocktail, J."

Taking your seat, you settle down next to Lyla; perching with your legs crossed on the seat. Miguel sits some way away, on the opposite side of your makeshift circle, clearly trying not to make eye contact. Jess elbows him, and he turns to her, before having a heated argument; all hushed whispers and hand gestures. It's the most animated he's been in the past week, for sure… 

"We're playing Never Have I Ever, Jess! Like back in college."

The woman in question rolls her eyes, giving a flash of pretty dimple. Back in college, Lyla says, when they'd drink cheap beer and spill their guts in dive bars – a tradition Jess wasn't too upset to see go. She didn't have the stomach for it then, and she doesn't now; but it probably wouldn't hurt to relive some of that fun. 

It's a warmup round, so to speak; a strong drink thrust into your hands. You take turns going around the circle, starting off relatively tame. First, it's Never have I ever skipped a class. Everyone, all college aged or older, drinks to that one. It's practically a given. And then someone chips in with Never have I ever broken a bone . Again, most people drink – taking advantage of the freebies to get a little tipsy. 

It's Lyla that throws out the juicy ones, after a couple of duds. 

" Never have I ever faked an orgasm." She says it from behind her glass, giggling. 

Less people drink, this time. Sheepishly, you raise your glass, taking a healthy gulp. Lyla takes the opportunity to gasp, clutching at her chest and fanning her forehead dramatically. 

You're whispering back, half laughing and half telling her off, "That's not that weird, Ly. Hasn't everyone…?"

"Not me. How's your partner meant to know it's shit if you fake it?" 

It's her sincerity that makes you laugh; wide-eyed and completely incredulous. You're clamping down the giggles when you look around, immediately locking eyes with Miguel. He gives you an odd look, as if amused. 

You're up next, and roll up metaphorical sleeves. "Never have I ever had a threesome. "

There's murmuring around the room, and a couple of people take a drink. Lyla does, with glee, and someone else you don't quite know the name of. What surprises you, however, is when Miguel takes a swig; eyes locked onto yours. 

You feel heat rising, blinking away as best you can. You still feel his gaze, of course. That game of chicken, the one you've so desperately been trying to avoid, rears its ugly head. You think Miguel is winning. 

The questions get more and more provocative. Never have I ever been pegged… or pegged someone else. Lyla drinks, Jess takes a gulp of her fruity mocktail…. and so does Miguel. Never have I ever been cheated on. Most people drink to this one, including yourself. A shitty teen relationship barely counts, you suppose; but you're taking every opportunity for a drink right now. 

Never have I ever cheated on someone. One or two people drink, and at least they have the decency to be ashamed. When Miguel drinks, however, you shift in your seat. Something settles within you, discontent. Yet again, your image of the man in front of you changes. For someone who sleeps around, maybe it's not too much of a stretch for him to cheat ; but the word feels so final, too cruel. It doesn't match up, for some reason, with your Miguel, who brings you piping hot noodles and hot water bottles on a bad day. 

This time, he doesn't meet your eye. 

Lyla decides she's bored, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

"New game – truth or dare!" There's faux groans from around the room. Lyla sticks a tongue out, ignoring them, and continues. "Jess, as the birthday girl… you get first pick."

Jess lights up, gorgeous , with the hoops at her ears swinging to and fro when she looks around. You haven't spoken much to her, but she seems like good fun; making a whole song and dance of picking the first victim. 

It's obvious, in hindsight, who she'd pick. There's only one person in the room visibly squirming, almost sweating , at the idea of something so out of his control. 

" Miguel," She says, turning to the man sinking into cushions. "Truth or dare?" 

He gives her a look, and she combats it with one of her own; the kind that could melt steel beams, and says It's my birthday, don't be a dick. 

" Dare ." He grits his teeth. 

"I dare you," She pauses for dramatic effect. "...to show us your porn watch history." 

Imperceptible, his eyes flash towards you. You notice , mouth dry. He groans. "We're not 19 anymore, Jess. It's childish. I'm a grown ass man–" 

" Truth or Dare , Mig."

"Truth." It's quick – which is very reasonable, considering her tone. 

"When was the last time you fucked someone?" 

Everyone turns to Miguel. He's looking at you, of course, wincing at the words he's about to say. 

"I don't…" He's swirling the beer bottle in his hand, and then he shrugs noncommittally. "I don't know. A… month, maybe."

" Bullshit!" Someone whisper-shouts, and then there's some laughter. 

Jess' eyebrows jump up, and Miguel bats her concerns away, whispering something under his breath. You can't quite catch it but his body language is clear: don't ask. He downs the rest of his drink, lips around the bottle, as some liquid trails down the side of his jaw. You're watching, unrepentantly obvious, and he catches your gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he swipes a finger to the liquid and licks it up.

Heart racing, you force yourself to look away and try to concentrate on the next few dares. The circle seems to have moved on, more interested in whatever juicy shit they can drag up in the next poor victim. 

You've all but zoned out when it's the turn of Jun, egged on by a couple of friends. You frown. He's that guy you were dancing with earlier, caught up in heady music and swirling lights. Jun is handsome, in that famous starlet kind of way; square-jawed, pretty eyes, and dark, cropped hair. Boy wonder is lean-lined with a nice smile; the very same that had reeled you in on the dancefloor. Maybe it's the liquor, but you think he's looking at you now; raking sharp eyes over your figure. 

"How do you know him?" You whisper to Lyla. 

She cups a hand to your ear, more than halfway to being absolutely wasted. 

"Used t-to work with him. He's nice enough, I think��? There was a rumour around the office; and apparently, he's got a massive di-" 

"Truth or dare?" Someone says. 

"Dare. Obviously." He flashes a smile in your direction. 

You squirm, and Lyla shines with realisation. 

"Oh my God." She whispers, and then she's interrupting before you can stop her. "Makeout with the hottest girl in the room. A proper one, tongue and teeth and–" 

You elbow her, square in the ribs. Thankfully, she takes the hint. Jun cocks his head, as if mulling it over. He gets up. 

Your head spins with the drink, and you're concentrating on keeping your sneakers flat on the ground. Head down, you don't notice the man walking over. He crouches, tapping your knee. 

"Oh." You say, blinking up at him. "Hi, again."

"Hi, again." He smiles. It's like you're the only two in the room, and with the way he looks at you, eyes darting to your lips… "Can I kiss you?" 

The words get caught in your throat, so you nod, fumbling. 

He places a hand to your chin, gently pushing you closer and then you're kissing; sweet and gentle. You separate, and you open your eyes to find his blown . You've got tunnel vision: his lips are pretty and wonderfully swollen – you just can't help it. 

You go back in again, parting your lips to let him in. He's cradling your jaw, tracing a hand up your thigh and it feels good. Closing your eyes, you sink into the heady haze of booze, grabbing at his shoulders. They're not as broad as Miguel's, and Jun isn't as clean shaven. When you snake a hand to the nape of his neck; it's rougher than your roommate's hair, cropped into a boyish cut instead of Miguel's gentle curl. Sighing, you both come up for air, and you're almost disappointed at the distinct lack of red-brown blinking back at you. 

Nails on a chalkboard, and you're back in the room. You look around to amused faces, catching Lyla wide-eyed besides you. Jun's cheeky, placing a quick peck to the side of your mouth before sitting down. From your vantage point, you're scared to look, to really look , in fear of what you'll see. 

Miguel, in the corner, with a white hot grip on his beer bottle. Catching that stormy gaze, something just clicks. Something resembling power, absolutely intoxicating, that heady rush you got from kissing someone else. Or, more accurately, getting a reaction from your roommate. Notoriously unwavering, and yet … he reveals a gap in his armour. A silent swipe to the ribs that doesn't kill, but draws blood. 

People are dispersing now, growing tired of the games. Lyla darts off; with the attention span of an excited pomeranian, and the excessive alcohol, she's already lost interest. You take a breather, sinking into plush cushions and catch Miguel's eye. In the commotion, he's tossing his beer and walking up to you, as if gearing up to say something. 

Someone sits into the seat besides you: tall and handsome, but definitely not Miguel. It's Jun, who smells like fresh flowers and cut grass, nudging your side. 

"You're good at that," He says, with a little smile. 

"Good at what?" You say, confused. 

"That kiss." He seems a little bashful, probably sobering up. "It was… good. "

"Not…" You're distracted, eyes flicking over to find Miguel. He's gone. "Not my best work, I think."

He stretches an arm around the back of the sofa, caging you in a little closer, and all you can do is blink up at him. 

"....you want to try again?" 

He's handsome. He's flirting . And he's present; able to give you clear signs that he wants you. It's more than a certain someone can provide, and you're left with a deep-seated need that no-one else seems to be able to fulfill. Four words ring out in your head, clanging around like pinball. You. Might. Get. Laid. 

It's enough to have you leaning up against Jun, a hand tracing circles in his thigh and fluttering your lashes as best you can. Hopefully it's a look that's says seductive, and not pink-eye. This far into the night, you don't quite have the energy to care. 

Heavy petting and drunk giggling; you spend God knows how long in that little room, whispering stupid shit to each other. You introduce yourself, and so does he. A brief overview of your life; and you find yourself desperately trying to skip the small talk. Jun works with computers. You're a student. Jun is very good with his hands. You're a visual learner. Everything seems to fall into place. 

Soon enough, you're swapping numbers and leading him out the door to somewhere more private . His apartment ; you find yourself hoping, as you make your way downstairs. 

He's draping a jacket on your shoulders, and you wade through the crowd. The lights are spinning a little less, you find, holding onto Jun's palm. In that great big room; people packed in like black and white sardines; all you're looking for is something to tether yourself to – or someone. Relationships, you've learnt, were overrated. You're young, and single, and gorgeous ; able to bag whoever you want. And what do you want? A hookup, clearly; something simple and uncomplicated, without the mess of feelings to untangle yourself from in the morning. 

There's a commotion from a corner of the room, and Jun pulls you back; craning his head to see. A jumble of people, crowded around the epicentre. He nods towards the bustle. 

"Isn't that Miguel?" He shouts over the bass, and your eyes widen.

You push past, trying to get a better look. Flashing lights, pumping music. In the red and blue and black, he's there ; hand wiping a bloodied nose. He's saying something; and a couple of guys surround Miguel, giving rough shoves and shouting something you can't hear. Someone throws a punch and he takes it, barely shifting at the continuous blows. 

It's a sobering sight, and you're worried; looking left and right at the onslaught of bystanders.

"Why isn't he fighting back ?" You say, barely audible. No-one's doing anything but watching; one or two even pulling their phones out to record. The sight makes you sick, and you're shouting his name, trying to get closer. Like a gunshot, sudden and sharp and cutting through the noise, he locks eyes with you. His eyes dark, with that same look he gave you not too long ago. 

Another cruel kick, and he's down on one knee, clutching at his stomach. You notice the broken glass, the blood in his shirt. He's goading them, and still , he refuses to fight back. 250 pounds soaking wet and at least 6"5; he's a fucking killer – and everyone knows it. Why won't he fight back?

There's a pounding at your skull, and something deep and dark and complicated that twists around your insides, threatening to rise up – and then.. and then… 

The lights are turned on, and the music stops. Lyla's at the stairs shouting obscenities; telling everyone to get the fuck out, or I'm calling the cops. 

People disperse out the doors, but only a few rush towards Miguel. You do, of course, and then Jess is by his side to help him up. He must look worse than he feels because despite the bruising and pouring blood; he pinches the bridge of his nose like he always does, as if it's just a headache. He's laughing ; the smug bastard; incisors sharp and dangerous and flashing pearly white. Your heart's still racing; betraying complicated feelings. As the last dregs drip out of Lyla's apartment, you're all left to deal with the aftermath. 

Jess looks shaken, Lyla's sobering up; and you're holding Miguel's hand, elbow deep in the oil spill. 

_

_

_

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[halucynator]

Hi Lucy hope you’re days going well! I had a fic ide for Mattheo x best friend fem! Reader where it’s been a stressful week but it’s Friday night, raining in Hogwarts and they’re hanging out watching IT (Mattheo convinced her) after class and she’s a gryffindor and acts like she’s not scared but when it’s night time she’s afraid to fall asleep because of the movie and she ends up going to his dorm and he confesses he likes her and she sleeps with him?(maybe a longer FIC?)

I love your work so much!

Big mistake.

Decided to combine these two x

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader (they are bff's BC bff to lovers is the second best trope to ever exist. Nothing beats e2l imo but that's beside the point.)

Warnings: mentions of violent imagery ig?, cuddling, mentions of intercourse, kissing, not proof read lmk if I missed any.

Summary: you and your friends decide to watch a horror movie. Unfortunately for you, you still wonder what lingers under your bed.

Sorry this took me so long! I was preparing for my Uni which starts in a couple days so I'm super sorry for the wait! Hope you like it x

I watched IT when I was 6 because my parents were watching it on the big TV in the same room as me and I thought it'd be a cute movie but it was... Bad to say the least. I have been traumatised ever since 🥰

reblogs (with tags) are always appreciated!! It is so much help!!

You hated horror movies. But somehow you let your best friend, Mattheo, convince you to watch "IT" with your friends.

Big Mistake.

The violent imagery flashed your mind. The cannibalism, the blood, the balloon, the- the everything.

You didn't get scared by horror movies easily. You'd watched Annabelle, the Conjuring and whatnot without being terrified but IT, oh god, IT.

"You okay, princess?"Mattheo asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost." He chuckled.

You had. You'd seen a ghost. Or a clown. But it was more terrifying than any other ghosts you'd ever witnessed in your life.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I- I'm alright!" You exclaimed too caught up in terrifying thoughts than to pay attention to your boyfriend.

He knew. Of course he did. He was your best friend. But he didn't hold it over your head. He didn't even mention it.

"Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?" He asked.

"Yes but I don't know if they allow it." You replied.

"Eh they probably don't allow a couple of 16 year olds to watch IT during night either but we did it anyway." He joked.

"Wouldn't you be afraid of being seen with a Gryffindor?" You asked knowing he had quite a high status and hoped him being seen with a Gryffindor wouldn't lower it in anyway.

"Not as much as you're afraid of Pennywise." He winked.

"I so am not!" You said offended, crossing your arms and pretending to be mad at him.

"Ok princess, keep telling yourself that." He chuckled as you elbowed him.

As you neared your dorm, the scenes obscured your mind again. You took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Bye princess" Mattheo waved.

"Bye Mattheo. Thank you." You replied as you waved back.

And there it was. Your facade fell apart and petrifying thoughts clouded your mind. You pulled the sheets over your head as you laid in bed. You were fine for the first few minutes until... giggles and lines clouded your mind.

Lines such as "You'll float too!"

You were caught in an endless loop of a nightmare and the only way to stop it was... was to admit you were afraid so you'd be okay. So he'd take care of you. No, not Pennywise!

You made your way to his dorm and knocked.

"Come in!" A voice shouted from inside.

You entered Mattheo's dorm.

"Princess? What are you doing here?" He asked bewildered.

You took a deep breath and dreadfully opened your mouth to tell Mattheo the reason for your presence.

"I'm scared." You said.

He chuckled slightly.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY." You whisper-shouted.

He giggles before he pats next to him. You walk over to his side and sit down next to him.

"I don't think I resonate well with the idea of you sleeping with me." He said as he realised what you were there for.

"Huh, why?" You asked deeply hurt.

"I wouldn't be able to control myself" he smirked as he winked.

You elbowed him yet again.

"Ow! That hurt!" He stated.

"It's about to hurt a lot more if you don't shut up!" You threatened half joking.

"Alright alright. You can sleep here." He replied.

"Thank you." You said.

"I meant it, you know." He said.

"Huh?" You asked confused.

"I wouldn't be able to control myself if you slept with me." He stated.

"Huh and why's that?" You questioned.

"Because I- I like you princess." He replied.

"Oh." You simply said.

"Oh?" He repeated looking hurt. "I probably shouldn't have, I'm sorry I made it weird. I-"

Without thinking you kissed him. It felt good. You felt better. You could feel Mattheo smirk into the kiss.

You both pulled away when you started getting breathless.

"I like you too." You replied.

"Yeah I figured." He smirked.

"Get over yourself!" You exclaimed.

You placed yourself next to Mattheo on the bed. He placed one of his hands in your hair and the other one on your waist to pull you closer. His hand moved down from your hair to your cheek as he caressed it.

Butterflies exploded in your stomach as he did so. You closed your eyes and melted into his touch.

And with that you slept.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

The next morning you woke up. At first you were confused as to what you were doing in Mattheo's room but soon enough you remembered.

"Good morning Princess." He smiled at you.

"hey. I mean- good morning." You replied.

He chuckled at your flustered state.

After the atmosphere in the room became thick, Mattheo spoke.

"I didn't know you had a fear of clowns, princess." He teased.

"I didn't! I used to like clowns!"

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

A/n: I hope you liked it! Hope this is long enough for you anon. Sorry for the unnecessarily long wait xx

[heavennumber2]

My Shadow Knows Your Shadow

Francisco Morales x f!reader neighbor

Summary: Somnophilia and Frankie’s shadows. You shouldn’t be okay with it, but you are

Warnings: somnophilia, Feral Frankie, unprotected PIV, f receiving oral, break in, Frankie getting sober, no current wife but he is a girl dad. Short and sweet. Both reader and Frankie are recovering addicts.

Anyone who wants to extend on this, be my guest! Just please no age gap with reader, that’s a gnarly trigger for me.

——-

As an overworked, underpaid, exhausted researcher, you like to sometimes decompress with your nice next door neighbor, Francisco Morales. You notice you share a lot of shadows from the past. It’s nice to be understood.

You drink coffee together on your porch on Sunday mornings. He shows you pictures of his daughter and you note she has his smile. He gets to see her every other weekend, and he’ll be granted partial custody after 6 months of sobriety. He’s on month four. You’re on year two. You congratulate each other and then talk about desserts.

You never share touches outside of a pat on the shoulder. He’s made it clear where his boundaries are and, though disappointed, you respect them. You joke about your idiot research advisor and he shares stories of his military friends.

You’ve become something between friendly neighbors and close confidants. It’s nice.

One night, you wake up with his face between your legs. He feels desperate, lost, *hungry*. You’re about to yell at him, ask him how the hell he got into your house, who the hell does he think he is, before your orgasm strikes you dumb.

“I’m so sorry, Hermosa,” he mumbles between frantic laps, “I just need… I’m so sorry”.

You get it.

You start to leave the patio door unlocked.

There’s no schedule for when he comes. He’s at the mercy of his demons and you’re at the mercy of his uncontrollable appetite.

You never talk about it. You wave to each other every morning as you head off to the university, he helps you when your car acts up, you share the breakfast muffins you made because he can’t keep living off of take out. He smiles at you like he doesn’t split you open in the shadows. You smile back like you’ve never gushed on his tongue. Or his fingers. Or his cock. You never talk about it, opting to discuss the surface levels of your life. You like horror movies and he has a deep hatred for one particular soccer team.

But sometimes at night, you wake up with him pushing inside you, frantically apologizing, tears drenching his cheeks. You always soothe him before you cum.

And then he’s off. The only proof you have is the soreness in your core and your shared cum staining the inside of your thighs. He stopped pulling out a few escapades ago, so now it just leaks and you sometimes leave the stains on your sheets to prove you’re not imagining it.

The next morning, he always brings your garbage cans in. As if he knows you’re a bit too sore for extra labor.

He disappears for two weeks.

You worry. The nights feel empty, the mornings are joyless. You tell yourself he wouldn’t dare relapse, he’s too close. You sometimes cry in the middle of the night, not just for your loss, but the possible loss of a little girls father.

You’re dragging yourself into the last working day of the second week. You’re so tired of the sexism in your field, the denial of your work, and the fact that you can’t drown yourself with liquor anymore. You sleep out of pure defeat.

You awake when the blanket is ripped from your body. You couldn’t bring yourself to wear bed clothes in case he returned, so there you are in all your naked glory. Your eyes meet his; he’s darker tonight. Aged. Famished. His face is clean shaven yet he looks more ragged than ever before.

He says nothing before prying your thighs open and diving into your cunt tongue first.

He says nothing when you lace your fingers through his curls to pull him closer.

He says nothing until after he drinks every drop of your second orgasm, until he drags himself up your quivering body tasting pieces of your skin along the way, until he rests his hips between your thighs and pushes the thick head of his cock in your warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into your cheek and he pushes pushes pushes every inch of himself into you and you feel your body shifting to accommodate “I’m so sorry, hermosa, I just need.. oh, I’m sorry”.

You soothe him by pulling him closer.

He pounds into you mercilessly.

You get it.

———

Im not much of a writer but I enjoyed this little dabble.

Think you can write it better than me? You probably can. Go for it.

Love you!

[katsukiizmoon]

Desc: Talkin’ bout Katsuki while you’re pregnant & when you have a daughter

No cause now all I can think about is katsuki with a daughter :( everyone Shutup I’m usually more immune to baby fever but oh god…. >:( katsuki needs to give me a baby girl

I can go into details and I will

Buys a giant wardrobe for her before she’s even born. Has custom made dynamight baby clothes made just for her.

Reads every parenting book known to man and has a binder of development notes!! This man has written down everything from how to cure baby gas to the best learning tools and methods for little ones

Makes freezer prep meals for when you’re post-partum and struggling ! Soup cubes, one pan sheet meals, instant pot dinners, the works. He makes frozen mandu (Korean dumplings) for an easy snack.

SLATHERS you in Shea butter and bio oil throughout your pregnancy, giving you rubs up and down all the time

Begins impulse buying childrens books and toys any time he steps into a store

Your home now has an entire room dedicated to the items he had either BUILT or BOUGHT for your child. Shelves are secured to the wall, filled with every book and pack of flash cards he’s purchased

Lays her down on his chest for quick naps with dragon tales on, humming to soothe her to avoid hics and sniffs from his beloved baby

Calls her “angel” for the longest time but here’s a list of other nicknames he uses: “squirt” , “shithead” , “princess” , “little spark”

Has the baby’s footprints stamped on thick cardstock for every two months she grows, until she hits a year. At a year he begins doing it every 6 months.

Starts teaching her to bake early on, all their favorite treats. They sit afterwards and eat to their hearts content until she inevitably knocks out on his chest watching Disney movies

Let’s her paint his nails as soon as she’s old enough. When she hits an age where it’s appropriate, they begin getting matching pedicures with you every month

Also post partum he spends time fixing you warm baths to soak in and love yourself in, while he holds the little one and makes dinner

Also also when you’re pregnant he literally has a brand new toilet installed to help you so you won’t need a peri bottle as much when you go to the bathroom :(((

Bathroom? Stocked with everything you can imagine. Tiny fridge for your padsicles? Check. Adult diapers? Check. Stool softener? Check. Baby wipes? Check! Anything you need, is stocked to the brim

Makes it mandatory that for the first 7 days of your little one’s life, only you and him will be around the baby. No visitors pressuring you, none of that. He plans the entire week in advance and tries to account for how tired you’ll be. The first thing he tells you to do when you get home is to get some sleep, and you do.

Calls his mom for help when you’re both a little too stressed and has her watch the baby in the play room so the two of you can have an hour nap

Takes you out to different attractions every week and/or has a “mommy day” planned each week to help lessen the chance of post partum depression

I just truly think he’d worship the ground yoj walked on and pave the way for her. He’d tell her how much he loves her every day. I bet he even puts a mild lavender lotion on her before she sleeps to help her rest and relax.

When she’s a newborn and going through the phase of refusing sleep, he gets you in bed and rocks her in the rocking chair until she’s asleep. He also demands the baby SHARE a room with you until she gets to at least 7-8 months. Baby cameras everywhere. Everything is baby proof. If you think it isn’t, it is.

When I die, The first thing I’m doing is having katsuki knock me up so we can live a happy life with a little one.

[divine0rdainment]

IMMA WRITE SOME FANFICS!

So imma try and write some more fanfictions soon. Attempt is the correct word becuse my ADHD is a bitch. But I was wondering which of my Au's you'd like to see written about first. Imma share the ones I like the most below and if you guys have a specific interest in one, please Comment the ones you'd like to see. I'll set up a Pole to have people vote on based on which Au's have the most people interested and work from there.

Now for the aus, I'll write the name of the au and description so you know what I'm talking about.

1) Taking What Is Forbidden (Continuation)

I already wrote two chapters for this but I have a few ideas I could expand on after, but in summery, An Eden au where Adam eats the apple of knowledge on purpose to find a way to make Lucifer fall in love with him, (or straight up force his angel in to isolation with him) resulting in them both falling. Heavily implied Yandere Demon King Adam vibes.

2) Operation Replace Lilith AU

Adam dies and goes back in time to the day he was created and has the brilliant idea of seducing Lucifer in order to get Lucifer to take him to hell Instead of Lilith, and not have the same death he had in his last life (Lucifer beating the shit out of him and then being stabbed by Nifty.) Too bad he's bad at flirting and Lucifer is accidently great at it. And now he may have to accept the fact he's not so straight.

3) Paradise Found au

Michael and Lucifer switch roles, and Michael ends up going to hell with Lilith, while Adam, after his death, ends up married to Lucifer in heaven since Lilith was sent to purgatory. He's still an exterminator in this time lone and Lucifer is part of the High Angelic Council. They have two daughters (Lute and Charlie) who are both working along side them and they have found their happy ending... Till Emily, the daughter of Michael and Lilith shows up with her plans for "redemption" and Charlie's missing girlfriend. Then everything the two built falls apart in ways they can't control.

4) Lucifers Labyrinth AU

Adam is a single dad of 4 kids who are very irritated at him when he misses a big school event. After a big argument, one of the kids make a wish that end up sending the four kids and Adam to the demon realm. The king of the realm, Lucifer, makes a deal with Adam that if he can make it to the center of Lucifers very very large labyrinth and get his kids to forgive him, he will let Adam take them home. But if he fails, he and the kids would be trapped in the Demon Realm forever. Turns out, Lucifer just had a crush on Adam and wants to convince him to stay willingly but doesn't understand humans well.

5) Charlie is The DM Au (Multiple Ships in this)

Basicly, Sinner Adam, Lucifer, Vaggie, Husk, and Angel play DND with Charlie as a bonding exercise every week. They each have their own characters and get to tell a fun story full of weird interactions and funny dialogue, but all while telling a good story that helps them with their real life problems in hell too. Alastor joins soon to cause even more problems in game. (May actually make Character sheets for everyone to share in case you like them)

6) Mafia Bodyguard Au

Another Single father Adam au, where Adam is struggling with a group of kids (under the age of 10k after his wife Eve died. He is Ex military and is too filled with PTSD and stress to figure out how to survive as he is. Luckily his ex wife, Lilith, comes to see him at a bar and offer him a job working for her second Ex husband as a bodyguard to their child, Charlie. In doing so he'd get free housing, schooling, medical increase, food, and even a fully bullet proof car. All Adam has to do is work for the Morningstar Mafia. Oh, by the way, her ex husband is the leader of said Mafia. Adam accepts for his kids sake, and shit goes crazy from there

7) She's Just a Baby Au

(also known as I'm Just A Man Au)

During the war between Heaven and hell, Adam is told by Sera that Lucifer and Lilith had created a nephilim. An abomination that, according to the higher angels, will spell misfortune for Heaven and Hell, and sends Adam on a secret mission to destroy this monster. When Adam gets there during a battle outside of Lucifers castle, he finds the monster in question and realizes it's just a baby, a demon like baby, but still a baby. He tries to bring himself to kill her and can't, and instead protects her till Lucifer comes back. Lilith dies in the battle sadly, so now Charlie only has her father. But Adam, now breaking heavens orders a second time, knows he can't go back. So Lucifer lets him stay. The two raise charlie together.

8) Testing Love Potions Au (One Shot)

Velvette was making a love potion in her office during an extermination, only for Adam to slam in to her office, preparing to killed her. To defend herself, Velvette broke his mask and hit him in the face with a love potion. And before he can open his eyes, she escapes. Adam sees Lucifer on a billboard and instantly is stricken with love. Chaos happens. And Lucifer is VERY confused. Especially since his wife just left him last year to go to heaven.

So please do tell me your opinions! Tell me which ones you'd like to read first! I hope to do all of them, but I gotta start so where!

[meibinnie]

txt and their kinks

pairing: ot5 x afab reader

genre: smut

warnings: breeding kink, unprotected sex (don't do this), dirty talk, spit play, somnophilia, sexy consent, spanking, and choking. mdni, if i catch you, you're gone.

note: i think terry's is my favorite one i wrote. erm kinda proof read, i got tired.

soobin

definitely has a breeding kink, no doubt about it. basically anything that has to do with you being pregnant, he has the hots for. he already has a thing for boobs (source: dude trust me) so when you’re lactating he’d wanna suck on them. 

the first time you proposed to have sex without a condom he almost jumped out his skin. poor guy damn near went stupid from how many times he spilled into you that night. he held onto you has he thrusted at a fast pace, grunting in your ear, “ ‘mm gonna make you a sexy mommy y/n” “c'mon you can take another load” and “i’m gonna breed you over and over again, make you mine forever”. 

he liked watching his cum leak out of you and ruin the sheets. sometimes he’d stuff it back into you just to see you squirm under his touch. he’d even take pictures (with your consent ofc) to keep and get off to, when you’re not around. 

yeonjun

yeonjun has a filthy mouth point blank period. his pretty lips are so damn deceiving. he whispers, grunts and moans explicit yet endearing words  in your ears. “yeah just like that you needy bitch” “that’s my perfect slut” “too cock drunk to answer me huh?” 

tonight was different though, he had you on your back as he thrusted into you. not too fast but not quite love making. he leans down to kiss you a couple of times like always. he loves your lips just as much as you love his. he shocks you when he demands you “open your mouth for me princess” and of course you obey, always so good for him. 

he leans down, spitting a glob of his saliva into your mouth. you close and swallow because how could you not take every bit of him? he cums at the sight of you swallowing him like that, can’t help but to kiss you and exchange more saliva than he already has. 

beomgyu

it took a lot  for him to admit it to  you even though  you were very open minded. he wanted to wait for you to bring it up first  but you never did because “hmm, that’s news to me. i’ve never heard of that but, if it makes you happy then sure” you said with a sweet smile.

beomgyu let weeks go by because he just couldn’t work up the courage to do it. he was nervous but then he came home late from dance  practice and there you were. sprawled out on his bed with only underwear and his t-shirt on. you looked so pretty and he just couldn’t help himself.

so he slipped his clothes off and pressed up against your back. he kissed and sucked on your neck and you were sound asleep. he peppered so many kisses, leaving little purple bruises for you to find the next morning.  now dry humping you from behind, he held in his moans and grunts to not wake you. he strained and held back, “i’ll just cum from this and be done” he tried to convince himself.

but he couldn’t take it anymore, it wasn’t enough,  he needed to be inside you. he pushed your panties to the side, slowly sliding his length inside of you. you let out a small whimper, knitting your brows together causing him to halt. once you settled again, he set a slow and steady pace. 

“mm gyu, keep going” your tired words egged him on. “feels good right?” he said sweat coating the sides of his face. all you could do was whine sleepy, poor baby barely coherent but loving the feeling regardless. his orgasm washed over him, making him see stars.  once you followed suit, he stayed inside you and you both drifted off to sleep.

taehyun

taehyun was a simple guy. sex with him wasn’t boring, it was easy for him to find out what you liked and he knew what he liked or so he thought. he didn’t think he’d have any specific kinks until a wild night with you after returning home from tour. taehyun hadn’t seen you for 6 months and phone sex just wasn’t doing the job anymore.

when he finally got home and you were riding him into complete bliss (because those strong arms holding your hips while you straddle him? whew) fully stuffed, you moaned “taehyun slap me”. he’d never hit a woman before, ever and he didn’t plan on it. but this was different, you were asking. “please baby, right in my face” no you were begging. your eyes watering, a thin layer of sweat coating your forehead and your lips plump from kissing and biting. how could he tell you no? 

so he took his left hand  ;)  and slapped you across the face. it wasn’t enough, it was unmoving and you wanted more. you bounced on his cock faster “harder baby” you sighed. were you serious? he didn’t want to hurt you but he saw that look in your eye, like if he didn’t slap the life out of you, you’d burst into tears. so he slapped you harder, making your head turn and your hair whip right along with it. “fuck yes, just like that baby” you moaned loudly, once again picking up your pace. turning to face him again, the side of your face turning red from the impact.

he could come right then and there but why stop? every time you moved down on his length, he spanked your ass and grabbed it roughly, definitely leaving a mark. you loved every bit of it, cumming on his cock and coming down from your high with a red face and a lopsided smile. he was so shocked he liked something so enticing and violent but he got to see you so gorgeous and fucked out so it became routine.

huening kai 

you were hanging out with some of your friends and the boys at your apartment for a game night. playing uno, everyone makes up their own rules and you’d have to stop the game a bunch. “huening you cannot put a 6 and 7 down just because they’re the same color” beomgyu face palmed. kai didn’t care, still putting down the two cards incorrectly. “baby, pick one of them back up or pick up two cards from the deck” you playfully scolded him. “make me” he threatened. 

you pushed past beomgyu knocking kai over and straddling him, tickling his sides. “i don’t care, im not picking up cards” he said in between laughs. your hand went up to his neck wrapping your fingers around it, not tight enough to block his windpipe but he went dead silent and got red hot. 

it felt like the world stopped and he grew a boner at record speed. he sat up quickly, pushing you off of him disturbed and everyone exchanged uncomfortable looks. “i think we should call it a night and pick it up next time” beomgyu broke the silence. 

everyone left just leaving you and kai, you checked up on him in your shared room. “kai, did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to” you started apologizing already. “no y/n you didn’t. i  just-” he cut himself off, shaking his head. “you know you can tell me anything, right?” you put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“you choked me, and i liked it. i liked it a lot. there, you happy?” he said quickly and avoiding eye contact. “baby, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about. actually just the thought of it is making me so wet” you whispered in his ear. 

the tips of his ears turned red and he finally made eye contact with you. the rest of the night consisted in multiple rounds of sex and you choking him while he laid down, and you rode him into oblivion.

[yujo-nishimura]

Whispers of the Desert Kingdom - Part 7

Warning: Sir Crocodile x fem reader, English is not my native language, not proof-read, age gap - forced marriage, angst and manipulation

This is a very short chapter and nothing really happens here, consider it as a filler to keep the story going. ;)

Taglist: @mcgeemouse , @fan-g0rl , @vexladin

words: 788

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

As you woke up from your sleep, you found yourself alone in the room. The couch under the window appeared untouched, as if the events of the previous night had been nothing more than a fleeting dream. The pillows were neatly arranged, restoring a sense of normalcy. It dawned on you that you had fallen asleep still clad in your wedding dress, make up stains left on your pillow. 

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts, and the voices of two female servants asked if they could assist you with a shower or breakfast. Still groggy from sleep, you yelled in response, "I don't need anyone today. Dismiss all services!" Slowly, you freed yourself from the sheets and discarded your dress onto the bed, shedding it like an unwanted shell.

Naked, you made your way into the bathroom. The embrace of the hot water in the marble bathtub brought a fleeting sense of relief, soothing your weary soul. As the warmth enveloped you, a glimmer of hope flickered within.

You came to realize that Crocodile had his own agenda for the kingdom, and being a part of the royal family could not change his plans. In the face of this realization, you saw only two choices before you: to confront him with force or to try and win his love, rendering him unable to harm you and those you held dear. A giggle escaped your lips as you entertained the second option, blushing at the thought. Deep down, you longed for Crocodile to fall for you, even though you acknowledged the naivety and childishness of such a wish. Maybe you were naive, but you had been brought into this situation by your father and now it was on you to change things for the better. 

After what felt like an eternity in the bathroom, you got out of the bath, dressed and got ready to face the day. Without a second thought, you tossed the wedding dress into your closet, dismissing it from your mind. Your gaze fell upon the dark stains of dried blood on the sheets, serving as a reminder of the previous night's encounter and the need to tend to your wound.

Opting for a long-sleeved dress today you called for the servants, requesting fresh sheets and breakfast to be brought to your room. The two girls arrived promptly, their diligent expressions revealing their eagerness to fulfill your requests. They swiftly removed the soiled bedding, replacing it with clean linen, while presenting you with a tray of coffee and bread to start your day.

Having finished breakfast, you made the decision to leave your room, determined to seek out either your father or Crocodile. Uncertain of whom to face with your newfound resolve first, you navigated the palace's silent halls. Many of the servants had been granted a well-deserved day off after the busy weeks of preparation.

As you wandered through the corridors, unable to locate either your father or Crocodile, you found yourself stepping into the tranquil courtyard. There, you spotted Pell engaged in conversation with Chaka. These two warriors, who had been a constant presence since your childhood, always provided a sense of reassurance. 

You felt a flicker of uncertainty as to whether Pell was the right person to share your inner turmoil with. However, deep down, you knew that Pell understood you better than anyone else in the palace, and he would inevitably sense if you were distressed by your newfound role as Crocodile's wife.

Opting to maintain the facade that everyone expected from you, you greeted the warriors of the palace with a warm smile. Suppressing the lingering unease within, you inquired about the whereabouts of your husband, realizing how challenging it still was for you to utter that word.

"Crocodile left the palace this morning to tend to his affairs at the casino. Do you already miss him, Princess?" Chaka's smile carried a gentle warmth as he spoke.

"What a fortunate man Crocodile is. Not only is he wealthy, but he also possesses your love!" Pell chimed in, his sincerity shining through. 

Feeling a surge of determination, you quickly replied, "Then I shall go and meet him!" 

"But, Princess, members of the royal family are not permitted in the casino among commoners," Chaka cautioned.

"I believe it's time to reconsider that rule, considering the casino's owner is now a member of the royal family," you chuckled, leaving the two warriors in the courtyard. Making your way back to the palace, your steps guided you toward the town. It was crucial to expedite your plan of making Crocodile fall in love with you. The sooner you could execute your strategy, the better equipped you would be to safeguard the kingdom.

[runningfrom2am]

“You were scared. Of him.” BABY BOY DID YOU EVEN HEAR WHAT SHE SAID ABOUT THE GAMES??

how i love when there’s a letter to feel guilty about, from beyond the grave.

“Or that if you’re out on cold nights when the breeze chills your skin, you’ll think of us.” THERE IT IS!!!

“Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, / Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!” the way that this is their relationship summary-

the fact that he sent the bread and the water only to buy her trust back is very reasonable and therefore disturbing.

SHE WOULD HAVE DIED WITHOUT HIS MOTHER’S SCARF!! she still cries for ruining something coryo gave her even after last night. I AM UNWELL!!

i just know that lucky and dr gaul are both losing it at the back for not having cameras in the vents. they’re very close to the end of the games yet they cannot see what is happening.

even the girl who had planned to stay still and wait for her end resorts to survival when fate knocks on her door and there is too much to lose.

okay we’re gonna rock with the same numbering system for this one bc we have SEVERAL points to go over.

(also i did have to reread it rq before i answered this bc i wrote and edited this like two weeks ago lol)

1. i mean,, at least he’s kinda self aware HAHAHA. actually very SELF aware and not very contextually observant rn. like babe you KNOW how terrified she was already and now the only person in this whole place who she trusts has started swinging too?! ZERO critical thinking skills.

2. yeahhhhh yk i had to do it 🤭 at first when i was writing it i was like “this is way too wordy” but then i was like “raye,,, duh words are her whole thing don’t be dumb” so i let it go on as long as it needed to haha. like i can see it SO vividly like it was probably hard to read i just KNOW she covered that whole sheet in writing without an inch to spare. i also feel like for her it wasn’t enough, but she would never complain or dare ask for another sheet.

3. title drop let’s goooooo (there will be more i think i do this a few times lol)

4. no bc that quote was so perfect i’ve been sitting on it since i started writing this series it’s been rotting in my notes waiting to be used and i just 🥹 of COURSE that’s what she would use as her real confession i’ll actually puke ab it.

as much as he thought the monologue was a confession, it really wasn’t. he heard what he wanted to hear, that she loved him and cared about him. which she does, but her intention was to beg and plead with him to be good and stay that way. she had no receipts besides his namesake and where he lived to base this theory off of, but i think after they discussed the tragedy of coriolanus at length she just wanted to hammer home that he is not what his name would suggest. this letter though was the realest confession she would give, through written word, and i think that’s very real to who she is, especially being so far from home and her family and her safe space.

5. pretending that he wanted her to help jessup was literally all he could do!! to him, what’s the alternative? give her the cold shoulder in the most vulnerable (likely final) days of her life? he couldn’t do that even if he wanted to, i think. i don’t think it successfully buys her trust, but i do think it is so motivational for her to just know that at the very least he is still there.

6. omg yeah me too i am SICK. she’s crying and apologizing knowing damn well he can’t even hear it or see what she’s doing but she feels just awful even though it means she would survive. as if that’s not the whole reason he gave it to her. he gave her the go ahead to use his mothers scarf to kill someone if she had to- and she feels that guilty about using it to save herself?? i’ll puke ab this actually she is so sweet. she cares about him so so deeply and i think a massive part of her fear, that kept her up all night, was that that fact that she loves him cares did not change.

7. yeah they did NOT think that one through and ik it’s just eating dr. gaul ALIVE bro. this could also be the beginning (assuming the games do continue- who knows) of the trackers that monitor heart rates and vitals of tributes.

8. OKAY YES so i’m gonna tie this into point 6 too bc i feel like that’s the manifestation of this internal battle she’s having. if she had originally planned to give up her life at the very beginning, i can so easily see the guilt that she’s feeling over every little thing she’s doing to preserve her own life beyond that point. so not only is she ruining his late mothers beautiful scarf, she’s also betraying herself. the “old her”, if you will. she shouldn’t be alive anyways, she will die soon anyways, so it feels like a waste to ruin this scarf in the process when she likely believes it will be peeled off her dead body regardless. but she still does it.

she told herself that coryo was what changed that plan- that she wanted to win for him, but i don’t even know that that’s fully true. maybe it was about saving herself all along, but she felt too horribly guilty about the circumstances to even admit that to herself. especially now that she’s starting to devolve mentally, she opens the compact knowing that its contents will kill the boys that are after her, but immediately she’s going “oh, it looks like salt” and committing to that narrative so desperately so she can hide from herself that now not only is she ruining the scarf to save herself, that she’s also directly causing fatal harm to others which she has always sworn she would never do.

[luvtonique]

Melodi is my very first attempt at a walk cycle of any kind (and I had to make 8), pixel animation that doesn't already have a skeleton base (Bestia had a base made by NotYourSagi that I used as a foundation and then modified things to make them line up), and utilizing sprite sheets and plugin coding.

I am now fully able to start production on the game proper as well as begin making other character sprites, starting with Cybil and Eliah and then later moving to Eidilon, Mitsu, Clawven and Brandy.

I am also going to make pre-rendered pixel-art backgrounds for each area in the game. The game will not be using the regular RPG Maker format of grid-based tilesets. Everything's gonna be hand-drawn and hand-animated. Everything. Every cutscene, every character animation, every death sequence (yeah you can die in it), every interactable event (and a lot of dialogue choices) will have unique art attached to them, EVERYTHING.

Now y'all might be thinking, "Jay, what if you burn yourself out?"

Look what I made in the last week. I learned to make music, making songs for the game. I learned to do pixel animation and made an 8-directional 6-frame movement and idle animation spritesheet for character movement. I learned shortcuts in Photoshop and Aseprite to speed up the process dramatically. Everything I've done in just a week has made me so motivated and so excited that I don't see myself slowing this train down at all until there's a playable proof of concept demo out there for all to play.

For the most WIP and production updates, please consider joining the Melodi RPG official Discord!

[casuallivi]

The Midnight Kiss

Azriel took a hike this chap 😬😬 his inner thoughts were secluded from me😓😓 Fear not, Elain had no problem in blabbing for three two . Enjoy your Elain-fest, i guess… Adopte an author today, and win the privilege of helping to keep the flame alive! See ya 😻😽

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 6: In need of a Scotty to beam her up

Hands roaming each other's bodies in a hurry, a trail of discarded clothes leading to the bedroom, ragged breaths and frantic steps finding the way towards the bed, two bodies rolling around the sheets, her soft moans and his rough groans matching the “thud, ” of the headboard denting the wallpaper, a symphony of,

“Faster,”

“Harder,”

“Deeper,”

“There. Right there,”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

loud enough to haunt her nosy neighbor for days to come!

Had they been a regular couple, that’s how their third date would be coming to an end; in a steamy encounter between the sheets.

Since they were Azriel and Elain, their third date came to an end with the couple talking in his car, the engine roaring smoothly on the background.

Elain Archeron had been away from the dating scene for five years, yet the rules had not changed much: People expected to get laid by the third date. Sometimes on the first date, or even before having a first date! Bottom line is, go down dirty and hard in the first opportunity you have, put all the chemistry to test to avoid settling down with someone you have no interest in sleeping with. Despite not understanding the appeal of sleeping around, Elain agreed that a couple’s sexual life played a big part in the relationship. She also knew good bedroom chemistry turned into shackles when a guy treated you like shit outside of it. Worst bargain coin ever. Elain had been in one of those relationships before. It took so long for her to see how shitty her last relationship was, and finally break free from it, that once she did, Elain retracted from men all together. Hence the birth of her Crush Land.

Elain’s Crush Land was her happy place, a safe space where she could fantasize about the men she found attractive, without actually having to get involved with them. After all, it was much easier to crush from a distance than to get close and end up disappointed, especially when she had no confidence in maintaining a healthy relationship. In her Land the men were all perfect, flawless, fulfilling all of her expectations without her having to explain a thing. As every good sovereign, she establish ground rules for her Land, two unbreaklabe rules that kept her reign peaceful for years:

1º)This cannot be a one-Crush-land;

2º) The maximum of days a Crush can remain in his throne, is seven days. After that, he's trouble.

With time, Elain grow attached to her delusional lifestyle, content with her fantasies, her Crush Land providing all the male interaction she needed. Until she met Cassian.

Goddamn Cassian Marino, with his massive size and perfect round ass, sauntering into her life flaunting his silky hair and megawatt smiles, destroying everything she worked hard to perfect.  Cass refused to fit into her equation, shattering her one-week-crush mold, frequently appearing in her mind till he was the only guy she could fantasize about. Funny thing is that was her wake up call. Ah, Elain thought sadly, I must be lonely.

Loneliness was a bitch. Especially for someone like her, who had been in relationships more than she had been alone. That’s why her Crush Land was important. No matter how silly it sounded, it helped her to learn to be alone, feel fulfilled by herself, not depend on a partner to give her worth. Elain was worthy. And her ever growing infatuation with Cass was proof that she was ready to get back into the dating world, preferably with him.

Life was also a bitch, slapping her, laughing at her pathetic hopeful plans, rubbing Cass' smoking-hot grilfriend in her face, before she could even have the chance to embarass herself with a confession. Cassian deciding to start when Elain decided to start dating, only to end up dating someone that was not her would be hilarious, had it not happened to her. It did happen to her, and Elain was devastated. But no matter! She would not let that stop her from taking a leep of faith with another guy.

Did she expected for this guy to be Cass' brother? No.

Did she expect for this guy to be her work-nemesis? Also, no.

Did she expect for this guy to be both, and despite the fact she knew that, to accept dating him anyway? Absolutly not!

Sometimes spontaneity made her do crazy things.

Elain would be the first one to admit Azriel's credentials were not looking good. But no matter! Azriel had showed he was interested in moving on too, and Elain was nothing, if not an optimist. She was confident about her abilities to move on, ready to conquer any challange life throw her way! All she needed was a guy who was willing to take her, not tame her, and everything would work out.

That’s how she found herself in boss-turned-boyfriend situation. What Elain and Azriel were doing was different from everything she had ever tried. This time she started dating her boyfriend before even liking him properly, going on dates to get to know each other. And Elain was enjoying this “get to know me” stage, enjoying discovering the little things she would not know simply by working with him.

Despite not having his brother’s easy disposition to accommodate strangers and make everyone feel comfortable with a flash of his white teeth, Azriel wasn’t the cold-hearted tin man she anticipated. As she got to know him, Elain discovered Azriel had no problem in being open and honest about his feelings, his expectations regarding their relationship, his desire to fall in love with her.

Elain was surprised to know he wasn't just interested in moving on, he was interested in her too! Initially, she thought they would help each other get over their exes, gain confidence with the opossite sex, and move on to find actual partners. Azriel nearly blew a fuse when she told him that.

"Let me get this straight. You wanna date me, to date another guy?" "Yeah, we," "No." He stopped her. "You'll date another girl, too," "No." "Let me finish," "No. You are not dating another guy! Are you out of your damn mind?" He interrupted, a vein popping in his forehead. "I warned you, Elain, I warned you I don't do casual. You date me, you are mine, and I do not share what's mine. Fuck no, you'll not date another guy."

Elain thought women's hormones sure worked in mysterious ways, because she had no business finding a domineering man that sexy. So, she changed routes, treating him as a real boyfriend, trying her best to box all his annoying bits to focus in his qualities –a feature she spent the better part of a year believing he did not have. Turned out he did.

It pained her old self to admit this, but Azriel was excellent in his job. He was also beautiful –she was dying to get him in front of her lenses– educated –when he wanted to be– from a good family, with good values, and apparently, extra sexy when he claimed his domain of her. It would be a lie to say a man like that, showing interest in you, didn’t send butterfly into a frenzy in a girl’s belly. Azriel being an attentive boyfriend didn't hurt either.

Even busy, he made sure to text her here and there throughout the the week, matching his free time to hers so they could go on dates. Since their relationship changed from coworkers to lovers, he started watching his tone, policing himself to not lash at her as he usually would – in fact, Azriel was treating the entire team better. Taking did breaths to control his temper while rejecting ideas, reducing the number of times he indiretcly called them stupid during a day, and he had only told her to shut up twice this week – a progress if she ever saw one. It was her fault, honestly. Elain couldn't help it, provoking him was fun.

Plus, bantering didn't end with her wanting to punch his teeth out anymore, now they ended with him cornering her in the empty pantry, his office, the elevator, he parking lot, deseert corridors, Azriel tracking her down to bite the snarkiness out of her lips.

“Jesus, you are such a biter,” she pointed out one day, after a particularly sharp nip. “Learned from you,” he breathed in her mouth.

Guilty. Elain couldn’t get enough of his plushy lips, nibbling and sucking on them till Azriel lost his stark facade, self-control thrown out the window, forgetting they stood in company property to press her on the nearest corner, groaning into her mouth, closing his long finger around her throat, making a mess of her hair. The man seemed obsessed with her hair and her neck. Elain was quickly becoming obsessed with his neck too, tip-toeing to fill it with wet kisses, leaving hickeys at the base, just shy from the collar of his dress shirts, like a little secret hidden in plain sight. It felt good to brand her teeth on his skin. A small punishment for all the times he made he want to punch his face.

At the end of the day, Elain wasn’t in love with Azriel, but she sure liked being his girlfriend. So much so, that when he pulled up in front of her building, she began to stall, coaxing him into conversing a little bit longer, not wanting to part.

Now she sat in his car, asking him endless questions about a subject most girlfriends would avoid like the plague: His ex.

“So you never had a girlfriend? Like, never, ever.” She asked for the third time, stunned with the complex and crazy history of her boyfriend.

Elain knew it wasn’t proper to use their date night to play 21 questions about his ex, but she was a curious person.

“If you want to get technical about it. She didn’t want labels. Had no problems getting the advantages of one, tho.”

His eyes dipped to her leg, which was bare, courtesy of her peach pleated skirt, a question clear in his hazel orbs. Elain allowed silently, watching as he gently ran his knuckles over the longitudinal scar dividing her kneecap in two halves, the line of scar tissue lighter than her skin.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Only if it gets too cold. My doc said it’s psychological, I said he isn’t the one feeling the pins burning. I swear to you, my orthopedist is whack, never trust your knee to Edgar Montero from Beacon Hill, never."

"How many pins?"

Elain lifted two fingers. Azriel removed his hand.

"It's fine, most of the time I forget about it."

He reached for his jacket on the back seat, draping it over her legs.

“Thanks,” Elain undid the straps of her sandals, not noticing him adjusting the temperature, and crossed her legs under his jacket, snapping a quick pic of her covered legs, catching the shoes on his carfloor. Then she returned to the subject of her interest. “Oh man, that’s a lot of responsibility, being someone’s first girlfriend. Just so you know, I had a lot of boyfriends, lots of experience.”

Azriel turned on his seat to better face her. “I have a decade of experience.”

She used her hand to make and “0” shape, saying, “stil had zero girlfriends. Were you lonely?"

Elain was. In her last relationship, Elain felt lonely even though she wasn't alone. She never wanted to experience that feeling again.

Azriel merely shrugged. “Work kept me busy enough.”

“Life is more than fashion, Marino. Life is bitter without the sweet frosting of love."

"Let me guess: that's why you fall in love easily."

"touché." She winked at him.

His raven-hair touched the headrest, Azriel closing his eyes. "How many boyfriend are we talking about?" he asked casually.

"You sure you wanna know?"

"Mmh."

"Most people prefer not to know about their partners past..." she taunted.

Azriel opened one eye, giving her an incredulous look. "You are so full of shit. You literally spent," he looked at his watch, "one hour and twenty minutes interrogating me."

It was her time to shrug, playing it cool. "I'm confident like that." Bullshit. Freaking curious enough to put George to shame, that's what she was.

"Stop stalling." Damn it, he knew her antics.

"Since you insist. Don't go crying later!" she gave him a last warn, putting a hand on her chest. "Just so you know, I'm extremely loyal. Got my first boyfriend entering high school, dated him till senior year. We broke up, I started dating this other guy in college, we were together till I turned twenty-four – he kind of traumatized me a little, but that's story for another time. Then I met this cute guy on tinder, he was stinky rich, but I think his mom wanted to bone him." Elain grimaced, using air quotes to repeat the nasty words she had to hear. "That lady was not happy to see her 'precious golden boy' with a 'lousy photographer'. I am not lousy. A goddamn amazing photographer, that's wha I am. Dumped his ass and won a contest later that month, thank you very much, mama Vanserra.”

Six months after breaking up with Graysen, Elain got into a bad funk. She missed intimacy, missed sex, and the worst part, she missed Graysen. To avoid crawling back to him, she tried a dating app, finding Lucien Vanserra on the first swipe, who she got involved with for three blissful months. Then his crazy mother started wanting to compete with Elain for her son’s love and affection. The woman acted like her son was her late husband. Yikes.

“And?” Azriel urged to go on, his voice bringing her out of memory lane.

“And what?”

"You said you dated a lot, I'm waiting for the "lot" part."

Elain grabbed the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric. "How dare you criticize my lovely love history? You never had a girlfriend. You are like, like – a dating novice!”

Azriel made sure his eye roll was a deliberately slow one, grabbing her chin to bring her closer. “You dated two guys and a half.”

"Why a half?"

"You never dated the third asshole."

“Still dated more than you.”

“Questionable.”

Elain snorted, impressed with his audacity to judge her when he never managed to get a single girl to date him. Before she could tell him to shove it, Azriel ran his thumb across her lower lip. He knew just how to shush her, because Elain went inert instantly. 

“Are you done interrogating me, now?” She nodded. “Or do you wish to reminisce about your harem a little longer?” She shook her head.

There was no need to think about a witty reply. Azriel wasn’t actually interested in an answer, didn’t wait for on either.

He kissed her with all the patient she didn’t have, taking his time in tasting her lips; and there they were without fail, the goddamn fireworks blowing behind her lids like they did every time he touched her. Elain melted into him. His kiss was unhurried, throughtful, lips moving with the same tender assurance of the hand palming the beck of her neck, finger tangling in the waves at her nape, tugging in delicious way that was neither too harsh nor too tight. Perfect. His touch was perfect.

Elain endure the slow tempo the best she could, the kiss lingering like the sweetest of punishments. She let him conduct the pace till she was tingling all over, goosebumps coating her skin, Then she exploded, untamed and unleashed.

Where Azriel was calm, Elain was the storm. She wasted no time with gentleness, sticking her tongue in his mouth to deepen the kiss, delighting in his small flinch of surprise. Elain throw her arms around his neck like a desperate drowning girl in search of a life jacket to cling to, Azriel shuddering under her embrace, matching her wild pace with no struggle. Elain loved how versatile he was, changing from one type of kiss to another with easy, allowing her to guide him, to coach him as she saw fit. Heavy panting soon filled the air, the peculiar couple getting lost in the erratic kiss. When Azriel released her, his voice was lower than usual, rough on the edges, a black ocean smothering the beautiful hazel of his eyes.

"Is the experienced up to your standards, madam?"

She barely nodded, lipstick smudged all over, eyes glazed with need, searching for his mouth again.

Few were the things capable of turning Elain silent and compliant.

Azriel's kiss was on top of that list.

.

.

.

Elain sidestepped into the conference room carrying four colorful binders, arms feeling like jelly under the heavy weight, huffing from the small walks from the room to her desk. Okay, maybe the material wasn’t that heavy and she was the one out of shape. Christ, she needed to exercise more frequently. Elain could not remember the last time she did some cardio, except for running to the bakery two blocks down from her place. Fine, she needed to exercise, period.

She dropped her cargo on the long table, organizing the variety of fabric swatches, reference data and sponsoring proposals Nuala left in her care, snapping a quick photo of it all. Nuala caught a nasty flu she was trying to nurse before their business trip, leaving Elain, Miguel and Azriel to run their last meeting without her.

Speaking of Azriel…

Elain glanced expectantly at her boss, who was casually leaning against the table, focused solemnly on his tablet, scribbling over the interview draft Miguel presented to him. The assistant writer stood by him, eyes moving furiously from the object to his boss face, fidgeting like a child who waits for parental approval. These days Elain wasn’t much different, constantly rocking on her heels as she waited to snatch his attention.

The reminiscence of daylight seemed to clung to him, highlighting the deep navy of his dress shirt, the color making his profile stand out. The top button was undone, giving her the smallest glimpse of bronzed skin, Elain biting her lip as she remembered what was hidden by his shirt. At the height of his second button laid a little purple bruise, made by her. Elain sighed. How come he was able to stand there, doing nothing but breathe and be serious, and look as good as a seasoned model posing for the camera? Life was unfair. Well, not so unfair since she was the one who got to enjoy this big, sexy, handsome,

“Did your toddler redacted the last questions?” Azriel’s sharp remark interrupted her silent inspection of him. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t have to, directing his piercing stare at Miguel, who scratched his head, saying,

“I don’t have kids.”

“Figured. A toddler knows better than to ask Wang personal questions. Keep it professional, focus in the progress of her career, she’s prone to be volatile if you don’t. Tis last page is useless. Do it again.”

“Yes, boss man. Will do.”

Behind them, Elain rolled her eyes at Azriel for ruining her sweet memories with his unwanted crudeness. Moments like this, she didn't like him one bit. Azriel wasn't lying when he said it was hard for him to connect with people, and once he got hyperfocused in his job that little detail shined light a beacon. The man was in serious need of an interpersonal relationship coach. Learning the difference between constructive criticism and public humiliation would do wonders to his character.

Elain slammed a clipboard on the table, making a grand show of pretending to sneeze three time, just to slip in the words, “quit,” “being,” “a jerk,” in between. She could hear Azriel taking a deep breath before his neck turned like the little girl in the exorcist.

“Excuse me?”

“You should say “bless you, love”, but thanks.”

Elain could swear the lights flickers. "Are you doing that?" Shuddering, she made the sign of the cross.

Azriel scowled harder. “Are you out of your meds again?”

Oh, the nerve of this man. Liked being his girlfriend her ass. Elain gave him the sweetest smile she could muster, ending up looking like a psycho on the loose.   

“Of course not, Marino. I have my medicine right here,” she pinched his cheeks, Miguel sucking his lips inwards to avoid laughing. “How could I look at this face and not feel healthy and energized? Don’t be a jerk, love, scowling gives you winkles, and God did not make me this hot to date a wrinkled old geezer.”

“I’m not old.”

"You are. Age is a state of mind, and yours show in your grumpiness." She tapped his cheek lightly, smoothing the frown from between his brows. "Relax for me," she said, then, a bit quieter, "that sounds awfully sensual doesn't it? Relax for me."

He seemed peeved, but Elain was positive he wanted to laugh. She could see his lips twitching in the corner.

"You know I'm still your boss, right?"

"So you've told me. Now stop scolding the poor boy, I don't his beautiful soul to be crushed by corporate world. You done with the interview, yeah?" she pushed the remaining binders closer to Azriel, explaining their contents. “Nuala asked to pass this along. This one has partnership proposals. She said to email her if you have any doubt, she’ll be glue to her phone in case you need her. This one has secured sponsors. Take a look at these gorgeous Jacobsen settees we can display on set.” She flipped all the way to page twenty-four, showing him a variety of furniture to choose from, watching him overseeing the selection with keen attention.

“They look rigid,” Azriel commented absently.

“You know all about that, don’t you?” See? Easy to provoke. “I’m aiming for uncomfortable. Is part of the first act. Nuala and I were playing with a couple of scenarios, and I did some sketches. My goal is for it to be hard on the edges, unpleasant, transitioning into a more and welcoming atmosphere once her apprentices come into the picture, color bleeding in. They are her missing piece, her equilibrium.”

She located the blue binder, spreading it open in front of her boss, displaying all the confidence and grace that she had mastered dealing with her previous clientele. Anxious brides needed reassurance, and Elain was an expert in gving it, gently guiding them into her vision with steady steps, making sure to accommodate their hidden desires to create the perfect shooting.

She showed them the pages, giving visual representation of how the model would look in the set, how the poses would convey the message. Azriel analyzed each page quietly, lost in contemplation, contrary to Miguel, who silently shook beside him, clutching his fist to his mouth.

Elain reached in front of Azriel to slap Miguel's arm. “What are you laughing at?”

“You said you sketched.”

“I did.” 

“Angelita, you drew a bunch of stick people.” He lifted the tip of a paper, trying to discern what the heck she had done there. Lots of circles and lines, that's what. “It’s impossible to understand this.”

Elain gasped out loud, dramatically clutching a hand to her chest, gluing the back of her other hand to her forehead.

"Here we go," Azriel muttered, getting out of her way.

Elain staggered towards Miguel, clinging to his jacket, shaking him left and right.

“My own friend. My brother in army!”

“Brother in arms.” Azriel corrected with a shake of the head.

Elain ignored him, way too deep into her theatrical redemption of a betrayed person, continuing her absurd discourse.

“My ally! Here I was, defending your maidenly honor, and you, you! You throw me under the bus! Thou shalt not kill, Miguel, thou shalt not kill! Why do you murder me like this! Have you no compassion? Have you no honor? Why do you betray me, why?" With a final cry, she sobbed into his shirt.

"Alright, alright. Get up now." Miguel held Elain up right, who was still pretending to be weak on the knees. “Couldn’t you have cut some old mags or something?”

“And give you some else’s vision?” her face twisted with horror, Elain pushing away from him to clean her fake tears. “No, thank you. This is an original shooting, with original concept, so we needed original drawings.” She tapped her index on the paper. “You have to look with your third eye, friend.”

“I have that?”

“Everyone does.” Fixing her hair in a ponytail, Elain wiggled herself between the two man, preparing to give a class they would not forget. “Pay attention, por sabor.”

“Por favor," he corrected amused.

“That’s what I said. Look, these are all different poses, kneeling, standing, laying down. I gave my blood for the stick people! Look! Here, she’s falling from a cliff into darkness, see, her arms are trying to grab salvation. Here, they are lying down, bored to death, in desperate need of something new, excitement. Then, boom! Wangsalvation. And here comes Vera," her passionate speech mellowed, for a shadow was casted over her, a strong frame trapping her between his body and the table. Elain wondered if Azriel had an inner furnace, because he always seemed to run hotter than her.

She cleared her throat, struggling to remain professional. "Vera is – Vera...? Yes! Vera. Vera will be waiting for her pupils, reaching her hand like the statue of a goddess, teaching her ways to the youth.”

The heat of Azriel's body seeped into her naked arms as he gently took a hold of her wrist, long soft fingers wrapping around her skin. Mouth-watering muscles flexed as guided her, making her point at something she could not care less.

"What's that one?"

Elain licked her lips, imagining how much prettier he’d look holding both of her wrists, pinning her hands above her head, binders dropped to the ground because she’d be the one spread on this table, harsh hazel eyes darkening with desire as he bent over–

“Models in opposite sides, touching each other’s faces.” She mumbled bewildered.

“Mmmh.” His purring vibrated on her back, Elain gulping at the awareness that she was straight out resting against his front. Her cheeks heated, eyes darting quickly to the witness in the room, only to find him distracted by his phone.

“Hey, Jerry read my email. He'll see me first thing tomorrow,” Miguel said casually. Jerry was their chief-editor, responsible for all the journalist aspects of an issue. “I’ll cut the last page and brainstorm new questions tonight. Maybe he can finish proofreading before we fly out.”

Azriel's hand moved from her wrist to her waist, resting casually at her hip. "I rather you proofread the winner's interview first. Wang is the last to go, there’s time to fix hers.”

“You sure?”

The two exchanged more words Elain didn’t pay an ounce of attention to, too busy digesting her latest daydream. The fact that her fantasies were now starred by a different Marino still caught her by surprise sometimes.

Surely, all that making out, like a couple of unsupervised horny teenagers, was messing with her brain chemistry. Because Azriel went from being nothing but a cranky boss, who made her blood boiling with impatience after their interactions, to be the protagonist of her x-rated story lines, sending her spiraling simply because he touched her wrist –not even her ass or titties, her goddamn wrist! This man’s touch needed to be studied.

The more she thought about it, the clearer it got: Elain not only liked to be Azriel's girlfriend; Elain liked Azriel.

A kiss on top of her head startled Elain back in the present, Miguel long gone from the room.

“I can smell your neurons burning.” Azriel joked, smelling her hair, kissing the same spot from before. The little excited thing in her chest went crazy. “Why is your heart beating so fast?” he whispered in her ear, “I can feel it in my chest.”

Crap, he could feel it?

Elain groaned.

At first, she thought Azriel Marino didn't had a flirtatious bone in his body, later, she understood he simply wasn't into cheesy reckless pick up lines like her. No, Azriel enjoyed other ways to take her off her feet, generally pointing things a gentleman should pretend he hadn't noticed! Sometimes it felt like this man was put on this earth to humble her. Christ, how was she supposed to flirt her way out this? Elain was in need of a Scotty to beam her up and away from here, before this man discovered her weakness. He was already way to powerful for her taste.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that my boss being inappropriate during office hours.”

“Now, she remembers I'm her boss. And you are inappropriate all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird when you do it. I'm the funny partner in this relationship.”

Azriel used her jeans beltloops to turn her around till her ass was pressed on the table “Are you?” Since when had this man confused face been so adorable? "You are fun, but funny, tsk tsk. Funny is a big stretch."

His fingers dug in her in waist, cutting her cognitive abilities, stopping her from registering the insult. Was he going to put her up the table? God, she hoped he would. "Cute shirt."

Elain looked down on her white tee design, where two potted plants were having a conversation. One saying, "Aloe, how are you?", the other "Hey, long Thyme no see."

"Thanks."

He traced her lower lip, muttering. "No lipstick, today?"

Before she could control herself, Elain let her tongue dart outside, meetind the pad of his thumb. "Didn't want to smear you," she replied in a daze.

"Glass walls. Office hours." Came his low warning.

"Technically, we are past office hours. I'm friends with Marie, you know, the cleaning lady. She gave those glass walls an extra glow this morning, I can guarantee you'll find no germs in it. Now, if you wanna put some germs in it, I have a few ideas about what we could press there. Who. You. could press there. But I should warn you, the dress code suggestion may get a little skimpy."

There was no hidding his smile now, except he wasn't amused. His smile was wicked, smoldering hazel eyes hiding delirious promises. Azriel cleaned her saliva over her cheek, finding her neck.

Knuckles rapped against the glass wall; a melodious voice calling his name. Worse, calling him by a pet name.

"Az." The affectionate sugary tone made Elain grimace. And she wasn't the only one.

One blink and the burning desire in his eyes morphed into anxiety.

"Az?" His face paled. As if he couldn't believe the sound reaching his ears. Elain looked from him to the gorgeous woman in the doorway, checking her from feet to face.

Black stilettos, red strapless jumpsuit and sunglasses greeted her. Manicured red coffin nails clutched a tiny mini purse, beach blonde hair gathered at her nape in a low, elegant, ponytail, once again making Elain feel inadequate in her jeans and tee. Morrigan took her sunglasses off, giving Elain a view of her red swollen eyes.

"Az... Azriel." Her trembling voice calling his full name seemed to wake up Azriel from his trance. He withdrew from Elain completely, turning to Morrigan at last

"Hi." Uncomfortable silence stretched when he didn't greet her back. If Morrigan was saddened by his stiff reaction, she did not let it show. "Can we talk? Please. I really need to speak with you."

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien's Through Thousands of Mirrors event translation (Day 5 - Monday)

Through Thousands of Mirrors Event | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 (You're here!) | Day 6 | Day 7 | HS/Uni SSR Story: Monochrome Scenery

-

special thanks to ivi (@ivioivioivi on twitter) for helping me with that last part 🫶

-

[PREVIEW]

A perfect week starts with morning prepping.

Lucien opens the textbook and reads through all the content that will be covered today.

He closes the textbook, then mentally connects and integrates the knowledge.

Ok, it's time to go to class!

-

[NEUROSCIENCE]

In Dr. Lawson's neuroscience class, there are occasional pop quizzes.

The first question can be answered with common sense, the second question is doable if you've reviewed the textbook, and the third question covers the material from the previous class, so it's quite easy.

The final question: "Discuss in 20 words the correlation between the prefrontal cortex, human behavior, and choice patterns in stressful environments."

Uh?

"P.S. Just kidding. Draw a cat in the upper left corner of your answer sheet for bonus points."

.......

"P.P.S. It would be even better if it's a tabby cat. An extra point for those who draw a tabby cat."

.....Okay.

-

[COGNITIVE SCIENCE]

Lucien looks at the cognitive science lesson plan and has a sudden inspiration.

It would be interesting to research a method that makes the brain receive or process information in a fixed manner.

He thinks Dr. Lawson would refuse the project proposal due to ethical concerns.

And if BS were to propose this direction, his research freedom would be restricted.

You can't have your cake and eat it too*.

[T/N: "鱼和熊掌不可兼得" (yú hé xióng zhǎng bù kě jiān dé) (lit translated to: You can't have both fish and bear's paw) is a Chinese idioms that means you can't have both at the same time. It's similar to the English saying, "You can't have your cake and eat it too."]

-

[BIOMEDICAL SCIENCE]

When you have many classmates aspiring to become physicians around you, there is always a loving and friendly atmosphere in the biomedical classroom.

But when your classmates start discussing how to prevent hair loss, this atmosphere dissipates.

Lucien touches his own hair, there shouldn't be a problem.

-

[FREE TIME]

Besides observing the passing students, Lucien also enjoys observing the small animals on campus.

Chickadees, crows, squirrels...

Um?

Lucien looks at his empty hands and understands why the squirrels on campus are particularly big and strong.

-

[LAB]

Lucien really likes his "workstation" in the laboratory.

The desk isn't large, but it's by the window, providing him with an environment where he won't be easily disturbed, and it just a bit sunny in the afternoon.

It's quite suitable for keeping some plants.

-

[LAB]

The beauty of science lies in its rigor, in the certainty reached through numerous hypotheses and repeated proofs.

And perhaps it also lies in the uncertainty of all possibilities during the process and the journey of venturing into the vast unknown.

-

[LAB]

Dr. Lawson treats people cordially and enjoys having open discussions with all kind of questions with students.

When facing Colt's statement that seems to come out of nowhere, "Capable people can be arrogant," Dr. Lawson also shares his own opinion.

"I think that arrogance should be directly proportional to one's achievements."

Lucien nods and says, “I also think we should always examine ourselves.”

Dr. Lawson raises his head with little cunning smile : “No, what I mean is for you to get a bit more achievements.”

Lucien was choked.

[wilhelmina1233]

This is for someone who asked about the situation!

When I started tumblr, I started uploading animations and drawings of my OC named Muri. Muri is a character with a a similar outfit to a bigger creator. I got lots of friends and mutuals when I started posting. one day, in September I woke up one day and checked my notifications, and saw that i got an anon ask. I read it and it said "why are you tracing", I answered saying "would you like to give more context?". then i went to school and explained everything to my friend, and WHILE i was explaining it the anon gave me another ask, saying that my backround art is traced and my character reference sheet is traced. so quickly started getting all my proof prepared, and answered them with it. my mutuals got very confused about that anon and started talking about him, later on we all forgot about it. one week later the anon came back and gave me an ask, saying "kys", I didnt know how to respond, so i wanted to make the anon annoyed and i answered "no thanks!! ^^" and it pretty much worked. he didnt came back until 6 days later. When he revealed himself and he goes by the name Sweetswirlybread. they made a post saying that people should be aware of my "actions of tracing other artists", and that they will gather proof. They started following many other creators too, my mutuals for example. People started talking about that person, wondering who they are or what do they want. After a while, Swirly didn't post until a few days later. When they came back with so called proof that I am tracing other artists, they said that Tumblr limited them and that they will make a part 2. But at the end of their post, there was a drawing of their OC basically hanging my OC (who also looked cut in half). Thats where the drama started, that's when I was shocked. So everyone started getting mad at them, and turns out they also traced one of my drawings. I waited for them to upload their part 2 so I can give my explanations out against these accusations, while everyone was waiting to see what else they got, they uploaded a drawing saying thy have an idea of how to get me off of Tumblr, they drew Muri wearing sexual themed clothes, and her getting 🍇ed by Randal in the corner. It scarred me and everyone got really suprised by it, they reported the drawing so many times it got taken down (luckily). Even so, I continued waiting for the part 2, It took them a week to do so but they did make a part 2, and thats when I gathered all my proof and explanations against these allegations. You can still find it on my blog! That's when Sweetswirlybread stopped posting for a while, but I still got anonymous asks that kept telling me weird stuff, such as to kill myself and so much more. One day, sweetswirlybread got a fanart by someone called deadhorse, let's call deadhorse "Mari".

1/2

@kourup

[mimisempai]

Fulfilled

Summary

When Dream realizes that Hob is really sick, he decides to take matters into his own hands. By taking care of his beloved, he realizes that sometimes it doesn't take much to feel completely fulfilled.

Notes For the Dreamling week, day 6 : Sick

Series : The life of a retired Lord of Dreams

On AO3

Rating G - 872 words

"It's nothing, just a little cold."

Dream had heard this several times since the beginning of the week, whenever Hob sneezed or coughed slightly, but today even Dream could see that it was more than just a cold, judging by his lover's condition.

He decided to take matters into his own hands, secretly happy to finally be able to do something concrete for his love. 

He said quietly to his lover, who was trying to suppress a coughing fit: "Hob, go back to bed.

Hob tried to protest weakly, "But my classes..."

Dream shook his head, put his hands on Hob's shoulders, turned him around and pushed him towards the bedroom, "I'll call the school, you do as I say. Go to bed."

Hob replied, "I love it when you're so bossy..." the end of his sentence ended in another coughing fit.

Dream chuckled softly, "That doesn't mean you shouldn't do what I say."

Hob didn't protest, a sign of his weakened state, and padded towards the bedroom.

When he was sure that Hob had gone back to bed, Dream called the school and then went back to the kitchen. 

He emerged thirty minutes later with a tray containing a bowl of steaming soup, a glass of water, and a pill.

When he reached the bedroom, he saw Hob curled up in the middle of the bed, shivering and wrapped in the covers. He could only see his face and was struck by how pale his skin was against the dark sheets.

He placed the tray on the nightstand and sat down beside him, asking softly, "Hob, dear, how are you?"

He gently brushed Hob's hair away from his eyes and sweaty forehead. Hob let out a soft moan as he opened his eyes to look at his lover before whispering in a raspy voice, "Not good."

The fact that Hob didn't try to downplay his condition said a lot.

Dream stroked his cheek gently and said softly, "My poor love, do you think you could swallow anything?"

Hob nodded weakly and Dream helped him to sit up. First he handed him the anti-fever pill and the glass of water, and when he'd swallowed them, he put the tray with the bowl of soup on Hob's lap.

Dream said quietly, "I made you some soup. I hear it's good for-"

Hob interrupted, "You made soup?"

Dream replied in a sulky voice, "Hey, I'll have you know I'm getting better at cooking. And Matthew advised me."

Hob replied in a hoarse voice, "Just kidding. I know you're perfectly capable."

He wrapped his hands around the bowl as if to soak up the warmth and brought it to his mouth, blowing on it several times to cool the soup before beginning to drink it slowly. Only a few moans of pleasure as the hot beverage flowed down his throat broke the silence. The fact that he spoke much less than usual was further proof that Hob was indeed ill.

Dream watched him in silence, and when he saw that the bowl was empty and his lover's head began to wobble, he said gently, "I think it's time for you to go back to bed."

Hob nodded, and as soon as Dream had cleared the tray, he immediately slipped under the sheets. Dream was about to take the tray to the kitchen when Hob's hand held him back and he asked, almost shyly, "Will you stay with me?"

As if Dream could refuse anything to Hob, who so rarely asked for anything for himself.

The time for his consideration must have been too long, because Hob continued, "Let it go. You don't have to. I don't want to make you sick."

But Dream had seen the longing behind the deflecting.

He replied gently, "You know I'm the Lord of Dreams, even if I'm retired and immortal and all that, remember?" then he climbed into the bed, wrapped his arms around Hob and pulled him against his chest.

With no strength to protest, Hob sighed in contentment before he started coughing again and had no choice but to lean against Dream as he rubbed his back to make the coughing fit go away.

When the coughing was over, Dream held Hob against him and whispered into his hair, "Try to sleep now," before kissing him gently on the forehead.

Hob hummed softly in agreement, and little by little Dream felt his lover's body grow heavier against his, his slightly wheezing breathing slowing and deepening, signs that Hob was fast asleep.

Dream didn't move an inch, even when his arm went numb from the position and weight of Hob's body against his own. Nothing in the world would have made him move if it meant disturbing his beloved's sleep.

For once, the Lord of Dreams felt fulfilled by something he'd done in a way he'd never felt before.

His lover had given him so much over the years that taking care of him during his illness was the least he could do. 

For any human, it would probably be something normal, even banal. But for him, it was one of the most satisfying things he'd ever done.

Taking care of his beloved.

Taking care of his Hob.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝I

Dreamling Masterlist here

[coldshrugs]

6, 9, + 13 for the fic questions? 🩷

thank you, beloved!! 💗

6. Which yet-to-be-started fic is first on your list?

i'm dying to write a conversation, mundane as it is, that io and estinien have during the ShB patches. the first time they've seen each other since ghimlyt (longer for her tbh, due to the unconsciousness. and what was about 6 months for her, was only a few weeks for him), and she wants to thank him. to me it's just a really great moment to reiterate their bond T^T

9. Short-term goals… what do you hope to complete this week or in January?

this week: finish the misery AU chapter i'm on

this month: finish the next one (or two) chapters. and catch up on works from friends!

13. Aside from fanfic, are there any other fan works you’d like to try creating? Fanart, or fanvids, gifsets, or podfic? 

always be gposing.

but no, i really want to make a semi-detailed character sheet for io. something that covers her distinctive markings, key glams/hairstyles, and canon weapons.

i briefly tried digital art a few years back, but it wasn't clicking for me in a way that was satisfying enough to continue?? but i struggle with being bad at things 😂 a friend always says "don't forget those noses! if you'd kept at it, you'd be better than me by now" and idk, i think they have way too much faith in me alskfjskld

noses, as proof i touched my tablet:

[familyrecipes2]

MINT CHOCOLATE TRUFFLES

 COURSE DESSERT

 CUISINE AMERICAN, VEGETARIAN

 PREP TIME 45 MINUTES

Covered with a thin layer of dark or white chocolate, these silky chocolate mint truffles have just the right amout of mint flavor to make them absolutely irresistable. (12 TRUFFLES)

Equipment :

knife and cutting board

small bowls

small saucepan

plate

whisk

scoop or melon baller

sheet pan lined with parchment paper

fork

ziplock bag or piping bag

Ingredients : x1

2 4oz dark chocolate bars chopped

½ cup heavy whipping cream

½ teaspoon peppermint extract

12 Andes Mints

10 oz dark chocolate melting wafers we like Ghirardelli

10 oz white chocolate melting wafers or chips

>> Get a FREE EBOOK With 500 Recipes HERE <<

Instructions :

1-Place chopped dark chocolate pieces in a small heat-proof bowl.

2-Simmer the cream in a small saucepan, heating just until it comes to a boil.

3-Pour the hot cream over the chopped chocolate.

>> Get a FREE EBOOK With 500 Recipes HERE <<

4-Put a large plate or lid over the bowl to trap the heat. This will melt the chocolate.

5-Once chocolate is melted (about 5-7 minutes) add peppermint extract.

6-Whisk chocolate/cream mixture until it turns into a glossy chocolate ganache. If needed, microwave the mixture for a few seconds at a time and stir until smooth if some of the chocolate has not melted all the way.

7-Place the ganache in the refrigerator or freezer for about 2 hours to firm up.

8-Scoop tablespoons of the firm chocolate ganache and roll it between your hands to form round balls.

>> Get a FREE EBOOK With 500 Recipes HERE <<

9-Place the formed truffles onto a sheet pan lined with parchment paper. Put the truffle balls back into the refrigerator to chill for at least 30 minutes longer.

10-Meanwhile, melt the dark and white chocolate melting wafers in 2 separate bowls.

11-Microwave each bowl for 30 seconds at a time, stirring between each interval, until smooth and melted through.

12-Set a truffle onto a fork (do not stab with the fork). Dip one truffle at a time into the melted chocolate, coating on all sides, then lifting from the chocolate.

13-Tap the fork gently to shake off excess chocolate and then set on a sheet of parchment paper.

14-Coat half the truffles with dark chocolate and half of them with white chocolate.

15-Allow chocolate to set.

16-Transfer the remaining melted chocolate into a small ziploc bag or piping bag. Snip off the corner of the bag and drizzle melted chocolate over the tops of the set truffles.

17-Chop Andes Mints into small pieces. Place a few pieces on top of each truffle to decorate.

>> Get a FREE EBOOK With 500 Recipes HERE <<

Notes :

The ganache can be stored in the refrigerator for up to 1 week or in the freezer for up to 1 month before rolling it into truffles. 

Melting wafers need to be heated slowly and stirred frequently. Stop heating when there are just a few small chunks of chocolate left in the mixture. Then stir until they melt completely. 

You can reheat the melting wafers if the mixture becomes too thick while dipping the truffles. 

Do not get any water in the melting wafters or they will seize up.

............................Keep Reanding...................................