#a truly admirable bar collection

[norafaye]

max verstappen x fem!reader

⟢ summary. max wasn’t doing a very good job at being an attentive boyfriend, always busy and not paying you any mind, so when you voice your dismay he gives you exactly what you want.

⟢ contains. slight angst, nsfw, smut : unprotected séx, côckwarming ♡, softdom!max, crybaby!reader, he’s stubborn and mean asf (madmax hehe), you ride him in his gaming chair, dirty talk, creampie, begging, mention of alcohol consumption, usage of petnames (e.g. baby, sweetheart, love), wc : 6.4k

nora's ☆ note. peek-a-boo! srry for being gone, this has been in my drafts since jan LMAO. it’s my first time writing something angsty, hopefully it’s up to par w the rest of my writing (o´罒`o) anyway love u all, i’m going through all my work that’s been collecting dust <3

Your feet padded down the endless hallways of the penthouse you currently resided in, searching for Max with a glass of gin in hand. One of his favorites.

The boisterous district of Fontvieille Monaco has gone long quiet as the evening begins to fade in. It was the most treasured part of your day—when the sunset casts over the ocean and how the crowds of people start to diminish slowly one by one. Loud voices and laughter simmering down, back into their homes or into fancy restaurants and bars to enjoy the rest of their night.

Each roll of the blue waves along with the golden disk already beginning to touch the surface ocean water is a view you could never get sick of. The sun slips quickly behind the line of the horizon as it spreads its last rays—stunning hues of oranges and yellows seeping through the windows of your living room, allowing to emit a shadow of your figure on the floor and walls with each step you take as you continue your hunt for your boyfriend.

It is where you feel the utmost of tranquility—the calmness of this environment is a way for you to wind down without having to care for anything else outside of the place you call home, to help wash away any troublesome thoughts. Usually these hours are spent with you and Max watching a movie or making a home cooked meal together. Usually your limbs would be tangled with one another in sacred and intimate ways.

Though this time around, your surroundings don't put you at ease, it doesn’t shake away your worries. In fact, it’s worse than usual.

This current lifestyle by all means, was everything you could ever dream of. You were incredibly lucky to be the partner of someone like Max. The Dutchman who is portrayed and misunderstood as a villain half of the time is actually a gentleman.

Your lover was so genuine and kind, as sweet as the gleam of sun that is currently kissing your skin—the warmth filling your whole body, bringing an overwhelming sense of comfort. It’s the sole reason why you fell in love with him, and you fell hard.

His own love for you is like a garden—blossoming into heavenly flowers within his fast beating heart.

He dotes on you, cares for you when you need it most, like tending to a single daisy amongst a field of grass. Nurturing and watering it with the most fondness, just like he does when kissing you, and god his kisses are to die for. His lips soft against yours like a warm embrace, so tender and delicate, melting into each other's souls. It always felt as if it were the last, as if the world was crumbling beneath the bottom of your feet. Nothing around you mattered, just the two of you in that space sealing in the gap.

He’s a race car driver for crying out loud—bound to be blunt and direct. But the persona he shows to the crowds of people and millions behind a tv screen is only half of who he truly is. Sure he can have a nasty temper at times during the highlights of his career but those were all under heavy stressful circumstances. In no way shape or form has his impatience and anger on track reach you from behind closed doors…until recently.

That familiarity of admiration for you has suddenly turned into rushed and quick pecks on the lips, hugs lasting only a fracture of a second. There wasn’t any long lasting gentleness to those intimate actions anymore, no adoration laced behind them.

This switch in attitude has you dwelling on it in an unhealthy way. Concerns filling your brain as he hardly devoted any time to you recently. Perpetually blowing you off with an “I’m busy.” and other broken promises to make it up to you whenever you’d suggest going out together for the day.

You genuinely didn't mind it at first, you out of everyone understood how important his career was to him. But, he’s constantly conducting business calls, in emergency meetings, or practicing on the race simulator. You were aching for him, in more ways than one.

It’s lonely enough with him having to travel all around the world 12 times a year with an extra addition of other flights for further business matters. And, with your own work you aren’t usually there to accompany him more than you’d wish. So with the rare occasions of him actually having a break with you at home and to have him not pay any attention to you was, without any exaggeration…starting to annoy you.

In contrast to the beautifully painted sky outside your windows showcasing its eternal beauty of lovely colors, your mood was somber and gloomy. Almost like the soon to be night sky beneath a cascade of iridescent stars on the sandy shores of Monaco—the air thick with a cold breeze and scent of salt, the feeling melancholic.

With an intake of a breath through your nose, the tracks of your light footsteps halt when you finally reach the blackwood door that leads into his office you were positive he was in. You make sure to knock three times—an order you mustn't forget, not wanting to walk in on him potentially streaming a game or being in a meeting with his camera on.

Upon hearing a faint, “Come in.” from the other side of the door, you enter the office with caution. Staring into the dreary space, anyone would be aware of how grim it was; pens and papers scattered across his work desk messily, the trophies resting on the display shelf held a sheer layer of dust, and the cold temperature didn't make it any better. The atmosphere alone coerced goosebumps to emerge onto your skin.

Max himself looked disarrayed, sat in the race simulator on the other side of the room. You walk over to stand beside the makeshift car seat to get a better look at him. All the noticeable tell-tale signs didn't go unnoticed by you, he was pushing himself too much. It was really displeasing to see him not taking care of himself. His light brown hair framed his forehead with eye bags digging into his skin, and there was a prominent little line in between his eyebrows—indicating that he’s been focusing for too long.

“Hey, everything okay?” Setting down the cup of gin on the wooden desk concernedly, you pull off his headset and brush your hand through his locks—pushing them back into place. Max doesn’t tear his eyes off the screens of his multiple monitors, barely sparing you a glance or reacting to the contact of your touch like he normally would.

“Hi baby, yeah…yeah ‘m alright,” he mumbles slowly, almost as if he didn’t register what you said.

“I got you a drink.” A frown makes way onto your features when he doesn’t say anything after that, not even acknowledging the alcohol in front of him. With a tilt of your head you wait expectedly, continuing to burn holes on the side of his face—like you were trying to read into his thoughts. “You coming to bed soon? You should get some rest.”

“Mhm…in a bit.”

You didn’t know why you thought the outcome would be anything different. The monotone lack of response from him had you sneering as a combination of anguish and irritation consumed your body. He’s still looking at the screens, an intense focus in his irises—a need to complete the race laps of the simulator even with his headphones off.

You knew then that he’s not honest with his intentions, being dismissive as usual and leading you to the feeling of neglect yet again. Though this time you’ve reached your limit, patience running thin.

Whilst huffing out an annoyed breath you toss the headset into his lap without a care, “Liar.”

That was a terrible mistake.

His reaction was just about immediate, bewildered at your sudden outburst. “What was that?” Max finally turns his head, eyes narrowing to look at you as you saunter off to the door. You intended to just retire into your shared bedroom alone, tears already pooling at your lash line from all the pent-up frustration with your back facing him.

“If you knew what was good for you, you wouldn’t dare to walk out that door.”

Halting your footsteps, a shiver bolted up your spine, the previous anger briskly replaced with unease. You’d like to think it was from the cool air that was blowing from the vents instead of his bleak words.

“Get back over here,” he spoke assertively, voice low and ominous—like he was disappointed in your unexpected change of mood, making your skin crawl with uncertainty.

It was a dangerous gamble between wanting to defy him or to finally have all of his attention after two weeks. But you knew better than to test his warnings and tolerance especially after hearing that irked tone. Blinking away the unshed tears, you steel yourself to shift your body and face him again.

“Now. Sweetheart, don't make me repeat myself.”

Your breath hitches, this was probably the first time in days where he’s held eye contact intently with you for longer than twenty seconds and it just about has you stumbling over your feet. The icy glare spoke for itself, already irritated with the way you lashed out at him, which is rare coming from you. He’s got a pounding headache and the last thing he wants to deal with is your little attitude.

His mean demeanor nearly made your eyes water again by the time you returned to his side, following his order. Within a split second, Max chucks the headphones to the ground bitterly. The loud clank! it makes when it hits the wooden floor has you jolting out of your skin, his annoyance radiating off of the small scowl on his face and actions.

In swift movements he pulls you down to straddle his lap without a word, a squeak of surprise leaves your lips since you didn’t have time to process what was happening.

The proximity has your heart skipping a beat, a rush of heat spreading throughout your entire body with nervousness. It was slightly cramped in the space between him and the pc steering wheel—leaving you little to no room to breathe, chest brushing against his to not have your back pressed into the metal material.

You felt that familiar ache in your stomach building up from how close he was and how he was holding your waist to keep you steady. It really didn’t take much for you especially since you’ve missed his warmth—his big veiny hands on your body. Your mind begins to whirl already, making you desperate for more right away, it was easy to tell from your quickened breath.

He observes your small frame all but quivering atop of him, dressed solely in one of his t-shirts that was evidently larger on you and a pair of panties peeking from underneath.

“What’s gotten into you huh?” His eyes lingered a while longer on your bare thighs that were scantily covered. He strokes it with his hands lightly, the contact igniting a trail of fire in its wake on your supple skin before his sharp gaze snapped to return to your face, “always interrupting me.”

You can practically hear the erratic rhythm of your heart beating in your ears because of his fierce scrutinizing eyes, and it doesn't benefit you in the slightest when the expensive cologne he knows drives you crazy wafts into your nostrils—making it even harder to concentrate. The air gets thicker by the second around your heated bodies.

“What’s gotten into me?“ You’re muttering under your breath, looking everywhere but his burning stare to try and rein yourself, “Max you…you hardly have time for me anymore.”

He’s a busy man, engrossed and occupied in his job. You get it, you truly do, you understand the fear he must bear of not wanting to be last. Carrying that title of being number one is both a blessing and a curse. It doesn't help that he's his own worst critic, correcting what he thinks he could do better by practicing on the simulator as much as he possibly can—it’s the only thing that occupies his mind.

The amount of pressure he must feel has to be overbearing—all the more for a non-stressful winter break, he’s been losing too much sleep and he couldn’t even bother to mind your concerns. All you wanted was to take care of him in different ways, you’ve tried for days but those days turned into two weeks and you’ve had enough.

One of his hands smooths over your back, humming gruffly while the other jerks your chin to force you to look at him with a firm grip so you don't pull away, “Y’know I have to be on top of my work right?”

“Yes! Of course I do but—“

“I’m doing this for us.” He then takes both of his palms, dragging them down your sides tantalizingly to grasp your hips. Max kneads the flesh briefly before guiding you with a secure hold to have your clothed heat rub at his crotch that's already flinching, growing hard underneath you. He does so almost mockingly, knowing just what you want and eliciting a shocked choked gasp from you, “working so I could get you the things you want.”

Your small hands went to hold onto his broad shoulders at the unexpected friction, it was getting tougher to keep yourself grounded—body trembling with the effort to stay in check, to stop yourself from grinding down on him greedily like you so desperately wanted.

“Max,” your face is sullen as you speak just above a whisper, he was mere inches away, so close you can almost taste him. You could just…lean forward a bit, claim his lips and have him again, “I don’t care about that, I just want to spend—“

“Time with me.” He interrupts again, stealing the rest of the sentence out of your mouth like he’s heard it a hundred times before and you can't seem to get snarky with him at the moment because of the way he was gradually rolling your groin against his. A rush of butterflies stirs in your tummy from the staggering sensation.

Max reaches under the hem of his baggy shirt that's draped over you with an exasperated exhale, his touch ticklish as his fingers dance along the soft skin near the band of your underwear. You can start to feel your body seeking more of his attention, so close to being obtainable you can taste it on the tip of your tongue.

“Is that it? Fine. If that’s the case, then you’re going to sit still.”

His words pique your interest at once that you seem to ignore his condescending behavior—content with just getting to be in his presence again.

He takes notice of your tongue peeking out to wet your lips in expectancy, earning a flicker of amusement on his features before quickly masking it back with a stoic expression. You can feel him trail lower and lower until the tips of his fingers reach your sensitive bud to circle it delicately over your panties, almost feather-light to tease you. The response from your body was instant, mewling and arching your back. Your clothed breasts were now flush against his chest, allowing more warmth to exchange between the two of you.

“All you wanted was to get your little pussy wet huh?” He lets out a scoffing chuckle, making a wave of humiliation wash over you from the way he puts it. You shake your head in denial, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that you are in fact sexually frustrated.

“N-Ngh! No!” But he can see right through your miserable bluff, especially with your heavy puffs of breath and stammering.

You were utterly touch-starved that your underwear was already dampening under his touch with your growing arousal. All from just sitting on his lap and light traces of contact.

“No? Then why are you soaking my fingers right now?” A sense of pride always filled his body knowing the affect he had on you, to have you heat up and slip into that sweet headspace with just a few ministrations. “Aww my sweet baby, you just needed a bit of my attention? Is that it?”

Max continues to work you up with a lazy smirk on his lips, watching you closely for each little face twisting reaction, “answer me sweetheart.” He lightly taps at your clit, another chuckle almost slipping from his throat when you sit up straighter because of it.

“Yes Max, I…want you.” Your voice comes out a bit whiny than you intended but you don’t seem to care because of the way your brain is clouding, craving more without question.

“There’s my good girl.”

With your lower lip sucked between your teeth you brace yourself for more, blood pumping with excitement. He was finally going to fuck you like you’ve been wanting for days, right?

Wrong.

What you didn’t expect was to be fully naked, straddling his cock whilst he ignored you.

Dumbfounded was an understatement.

As you watch the clock on the other side of the office—perched on top of the door behind him, your sanity quickly dissolves with each passing tick. It took you about ten minutes to realize the vast amount of self-control he held. So while you were sitting on his lap, firm length sheathed deeply inside you—Max simply returned to the simulator, superbly content with this proposal. You on the other hand, couldn’t stop the tremor of your thighs.

Breaking the tense silence with an unsatisfied grumble, you wrap your arms around his neck in hopes to get more direct contact of his skin on yours. Your frame was taut and rigid above him, trying your damn hardest to not make any sudden movements like he ordered.

Being able to finally feel him again like this but not allowed to do anything about it has you on edge, you eagerly wanted—no needed some sort of relief. So with much contemplation your movements get bolder with a grind of your hips, though it only makes him give you a stern look in exchange, enough for you to force into a stop at once.

He clicks his tongue in disapproval, giving a light smack on your plush ass as a warning. “Stop fuckin’ moving,” he hisses through gritted teeth, still annoyed with you and it had your heart aching uncomfortably.

You should be the one that was upset but you felt so vulnerable and deprived, especially with him still being fully clothed, his shorts and briefs pushed down just enough to free his cock making you feel all the more exposed and in the mercy of his hands. You so miserably needed more of him, all of him.

“Max please,” you can’t help but beg now, knowing that it’ll usually weaken his resolve with that angelic voice of yours, “I can’t.”

It doesn't seem to deter him though. A sense of disappointment engulfs you, he was so hellbent on teaching you a lesson that you know you don't even deserve.

“You can and you will. What happened to being my good girl?” His hands never leave the steering wheel behind you and his voice, not even in the slightest—doesn’t waver whenever he speaks, practically like he was unaffected with your warm wet cunt wrapped around him, “besides, isn’t this what you wanted? Don’t make me punish you.”

He’s mocking you. You can almost see his lips quirking up into a smile as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck with no retaliation afterward, so eager to please him.

The only thing you can possibly do was snuggle closer for the little bit of warmth his clothed body can radiate in the cold office and listen to the loud roar of V6 engines coming from the game. With tightly shut eyes, you try to think of something to distract you but nothing works as your mind parades itself from the feeling of his fat tip kissing your cervix, stuffed full.

This was already punishing enough, none of this was painful oh no—it was the complete opposite. But, the pleasure rising up and not having your desires fulfilled was tearing you apart. It was borderline torture.

The stretch makes slick from your pussy drool on his girth, a mess pooling straight down his balls and whenever he would move his feet on the pedals of the simulator—his thigh jumps, making you shift on his lap and bounce ever so slightly on his shaft. It has you whining against his ear like a bitch in heat.

Max’s eyes burn into the screen of his pc after perceiving the sound of your soft whimper and whines against his ear, breath tickling his skin and making it prick up. He always loved any noises that he could pull from you, his possessiveness and ego feeds off it. He's transfixed—entranced by how sweet it sounds. He can’t lie, he did miss you. Missed having you close like this, desperate and easily acquiescent for him, your soft voice all breathless and needy.

Just the feeling and connection of you.

He clenched his jaw when your velvet walls fluttered around him, his own self-control was close to snapping. But being an asshole just to spite you seemed more pleasing, he purposely moved his legs more forcefully on the pedals to elicit more of those pretty little cries of pleasure.

Though he completely freezes up the moment he hears you sniffling against his neck, hot tears hitting his shirt seconds after.

Max knows he's been a shit boyfriend but he's too prideful to admit it, so frustrated and harsh while his sole center of attention was on how to be better, better, better with his work that he seemed to forget your own needs. He’s conflicted at the moment as he thinks about it, infuriated at himself for taking it out on you.

You were trying so hard for him, to be his good girl that you always were despite your own discontentment and bitterness to his treatment towards you. You didn’t want to upset him any further even if this was his own doing, it made both his heart stammer and his cock twitch from how kind you are to him. He didn't deserve you.

When you feel that certain jerk inside of you, your one track mind really couldn't stop your lips from speaking once more through your small sniffles. “P-Please Max,” you attempt again with hesitation, lip bitten raw from your constant chewing, “I can’t take this much longer.”

His self-restraint finally snaps.

Your ears perk and pick up the sound of him sipping, completely downing the glass of alcohol that was disregarded earlier in one go. He hisses harshly after the burn cascades down his throat with each gulp and then leans forward, muscles flexing slightly as he places the now empty cup on the desk with a soft clunk before turning off the gaming system.

The unexpected silence causes your stomach to twist in a knot, no longer capable of hearing the thunderous engines of formula one cars—just his ragged breathing and ticking of the clock.

Anticipation nags in the back of your mind, a hundred things running all at once while you sit there pliantly and unmoving, silent tears cascading down your face.

You can't help but think that you’ve surely done it this time, you’ve pissed him off now haven’t you?

“So ungrateful for all the things I give you, hm?” He eventually speaks amidst the strained quietness. The words he utters out didn’t hold any actual malice, voice softer now. His anger giving away to more vulnerability as his hands went to pry your face away from his neck, holding it in his palms gently.

It ached to see you hurt, the pain in your features mirrored in his own heart. His hands trembled subtly while he cradled your soft cheeks, thumbs brushing away the salty tears that fell—trying to comfort and soothe you, “always complaining.”

You lean further back slightly to get a better view of his features, seeing a mixture of emotions swirling in his irises.

Pity. Sadness. Longing.

You could feel it with the way he held you with care, you could feel it in the air—through his soft breath against your skin. Your own heart tugs a bit when you realize that he was feeling guilty. Guilty for doing this to you, for mistreating you.

“I miss you.” You hiccup whilst his thumbs continue their calming motions on the apple of your cheeks.

He focuses on your pretty face stained with wet tears before brushing some loose strands of hair framing your face, tucking it behind your ear and he couldn’t help but marvel at how cute you looked. You were nuzzled into his hands like a kicked little puppy—doe glassy eyes staring into his own.

Max lets out a shaky breath out his nose when a pout adorns your pretty pink lips, he wants to kiss it away, hear those moans you’d make against him. But first, he really needs to apologize for his negligence.

He coos at your broken voice, torn between his self pity and yearning for your presence even if he didn't deserve the slightest bit of your leniency, “‘m right here baby.” His chest continues to sting as your tears increase, the weight of his words hitting you harder than he expected.

He knows that his reassurance has touched a nerve, that you've been longing to hear those words for days. That he was never really gone, he still cared for you the same, just too stubborn about his own emotions. While keeping his tender hold on your face, his gaze never leaves your watery eyes. He wants you to feel his unwavering love, a necessity to put your mind at ease, “let me kiss you, can I?”

A soft hum coming from your throat and a small nod is enough confirmation for him to pull you into a fulfilling gentle kiss, one that you were familiar with, the kind that you yearned for so severely. The adoration was felt again as he put much effort and devotion behind it. It felt so good being cherished like this again.

With a pleased sigh passing through you, Max tilts his head—removing one of his hands from your face to hold your nape, intending to deepen the kiss even further. He takes the opportunity to push his tongue past your lips when you part your mouth.

The taste buds on your own wet muscle begin to flood with the flavor of bitter alcohol as it dances and tangles along with his. It was all so, so intoxicating. And he revels at how your lips always manage to be plump and soft, as tasty as he remembered. He mutters against them gently yet firm as he speaks, trying to convey his conflicted feelings, “so sorry my love, ‘m so sorry.”

He places a few chaste kisses on you before pulling away slightly so he can stare up at you for a moment, his pupils tracing every inch of your naked body. He can't get over how beautiful you look with desire and need whirling in your eyes. His heart stutters again with so much regret when you sniffle and hug his shoulders, pressing closer like you were trying to meld into one.

A small glimmer of light breaks through the storm of emotions when the sound of a sheepish giggle comes from your mouth. The lighthearted noise that he’s grown to love over the years of knowing you filling the tense air. Your saccharine voice overflows his ears with words of forgiveness, too compassionate for your own good. He muses at the fact that even through the stressful and pressuring times—the neglect, you were always there to welcome him with open arms.

Max rids the confines of fabric still clinging to his body with a sense of urgency, like a man on a mission to make it up to you. He tosses them to join the pile of your clothes forgotten somewhere on the floor before returning his mouth on you, this time on the column of your neck, peppering it. Starved and parched for you, just as much as you were for him.

His kisses are hot and wet, tongue lapping at your skin while his hands wander over your chest. He can feel you responding to his touches once more, pulse quickening just beneath his fingertips, your breathing coming out in faint gasps.

Small “I love you’s.” tumble from him like a mantra without stopping his focus on your skin. The once pained expression on your face now changed into an alluring one within ticks—cheeks flushed, eyes blown wide, and mouth slightly parted from all the attention.

It only fueled his hunger even more, growing impossibly harder inside of your pussy. “So fuckin’ pretty, I could stare at you like this forever.” His lips work their way up to your ear, licking the shell of it provokingly, the action has the hair on your arms standing stiffly. Max’s voice was direct and rough as he whispers, “fuck yourself onto me, go on baby you can move for me now.”

It's like a fire switch has gone off in your brain. At last, you lift yourself up until his flushed pink tip peeks out to the point of almost slipping out and slowly sink back down. Both of your mouths fall open to let out a low satisfied moan in unison. Your eyelids flutter, half-lidded now, barely being kept open with furrowed brows as you gape back at him.

“Haah!—“ your breath gets caught in your throat as he braces his feet on the floor and plunges his hips up to meet yours when you lift yourself again, stuffing his fat cock into your soaking heat in one instantaneous push. Your small hands claw on his shoulders in surprise, leaving red scratch marks on his pale skin.

“Breathe for me baby…yeahhhhh just like that. I can see you dripping for me, my needy girl look at you—so fuckin’ wet,” he bites his lip to stifle the guttural moan that threatened to slip at the sight before his eyes, “Missed you so much too—shit.”

He continues to run his filthy mouth with a vein protruding his neck and stills his hips so you can set your own pace, your walls shuddering around him in response to his all of his words. Whilst you repeat the same action again and again, you’re already not able to formulate a single thought from the mind numbing sensations. Just mentally saturated at being filled to the hilt over and over and over.

“F-fuuuuuck, so good Max—feels so good!”

“That’s it, just focus on feeling good, ‘m here s’okay. You have me now.” He devours your mouth once more, this time with great fervor—his tongue exploring every inch of the wet cavern more hastily, tasting every bit of what you can give.

He swallows each and every little sound coming from you, every whimper and whine because of each drag of his length, feeling it reverberating through his mouth down to his chest—now full of warmth and contentment.

Max’s hands on your breasts continue to squeeze, fondling your mounds until his calloused fingers pinches and rolls your nipples between them to pebble up in the cool air, adding a jolt of pleasure in the mix. The feeling of you taking him inside, the sounds of your sweet gasps—it drives him insane. He groans deeply, breaking the kiss to have his head fall back against the chair.

You’re fucking him so good all of his tension and worries are melting away from each roll of your hips. Maybe a little too good that he’s biting the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from ramming into you like a madman.

"Keep using me however you want sweetheart, don’t stop ‘till you're satisfied,” he mutters, ragged and hoarse.

You can hardly focus, it was too much for you to endure. All you can make out is how good he feels, how his mushroom head hits that spongy spot with the way you’re taking him in so deep at this angle. This is everything you've ached for, so it’s no surprise how easily you’re falling apart so early on along with him. So overly sensitive and responsive to each stroke of his stiff cock, being able to feel every ridge and vein.

The observation of him splitting you open was incredibly arousing to gawk at. Strings of slick connects where the two of you continuously meet, hot and sticky with a translucent white painting the base of his length as you continue to cream around him.

He swears he feels like he’s floating, going absolutely delirious, and it’s obvious with the way he wouldn’t shut his mouth. Max always gets this way from the taste and feel of you, it’s like his mind couldn't fathom anything else around him.

“You're so good baby, so good for me," he praised, palms going to grip at your hips tightly. He’s clutching you so securely as if he can't bear to let go, leaving crescent shaped indents on your hips from his blunt nails. "You love this, you love being filled up by me, don't you?"

“Y-Yes, Max," you moan out needily, your own fingers digging into his shoulders, "I love it so much. Mnnh—so big.”

His grip on your hips tightens as he tries to hold back, to prolong the need to just pound into you, his breath coming in ragged, shallow pants. The sound of wet plaps! from skin slapping against each other fills the office walls when you move a little faster—air thickening around you further with the smell of sex. His brain clouds, losing himself in the pleasure you bring upon him. He can feel his willpower slowly giving way to his desire and need for you, but he wants you to have this.

The view of you riding him and your sweet whimpers was making it harder for him to control himself. He shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw to focus on not coming so quickly, “You're so tight, so perfect. Can’t even fuckin’—hah! Can hardly think straight.”

He makes it a point to hold out for you, so you can come at the same time just how he always likes. But you whine and suddenly stop, legs starting to strain. The vulgarity of his words, the sensations, it was all getting too overwhelming.

Max groans at the loss of pleasure, reopening his eyes to look at your flushed disheartened face, “What's wrong baby?”

“Need you,“ you whine frustratedly and press your forehead against his, swapping breaths as you both pant, “I can’t…”

"Need my help?" He grabs your hands to place it behind you so you can grasp at the steering wheel, this allows you more leverage and support to slam down onto him, “Lean back and hold onto this sweetheart, hold on tightly.”

For extra measure he snakes a strong arm around your back, holding your waist sturdily as he helps guide you to fucking him more harshly now.

“Oh f-fuck! You’re s-so deep!” You tip your head back, bearing your hickey covered neck to him. He almost came from the sight alone, a low groan bullying it’s way out of his mouth.

“Yeah? That’s better isn’t it baby?” He asks softly but there’s a clear hint of teasing, a playful mocking in his tone. Though his voice is finally starting to waver, all of it sends him into overdrive as he draws close to bursting at the seams. His fingers from his free hand tease the skin of your inner thigh, making your hips stutter slightly. “Oooh, s-shit just felt you squeeze around me, you like that?”

“No teasing Max,” you whine and cinch your brows together, looking back at him with a small scowl but it looks more of a pout in his eyes, “touch me please.”

“Demanding now are we?” Deciding to not be mean anymore than he already has been tonight because of how precious you looked—he licks the calloused pad of his thumb and presses it harshly against your clit, neglected and swollen. He circles it, spreading his spit and your wetness slowly. You shriek at the added stimulation and grip the steering wheel so hard your knuckles turn white.

“My good girl, my everything, all I ever need.” He’s babbling again when your pussy clamps down on him at the praise. Both of your brains seemingly go fuzzy yet in tune with one another, only thinking of one thing and it’s that sweet release.

With each moan from you, a sharp groan and grunt comes from him. His own hips begin to move with you again, no longer capable of keeping still, his thrusts matching each lift of your body. The pleasure builds and builds, becoming almost unbearable.

“So. Fucking. Good.” He punctuated his words with each buck, becoming more sloppy as time goes on—hanging so dangerously close to the edge. And he knew that you were almost there too, he could feel it in the way you were moving against him desperately, clenching and shaking around him. "You're close, aren't you, baby?"

Incoherent babbles of yes's and pleas were all you can respond with. Each drive of his hips were now constricted because of how hard you squeezed around him, your walls pulsing like a vice as your body goes taut.

He didn't stop, couldn't stop, he needed you too badly, needed to feel you as you fell apart for him, all because of him. His thumb rubs more vigorously against your bundle of nerves to heighten the pressure in your core, ready to burst at any given moment.

“Y-Yeah I know I'm right there with you, come on baby,” he urges and leans forward, licking and speaking against your ear, knowing that it’ll drive you even closer to your peak, “I want you to come for me–come with me.��

Your vision begins to blur, nerves on fire as you can only focus on the blissful pleasure. The moans coming out of you now louder and more high-pitched as you chase for your orgasm. He angles his hips and snaps up into you harder, now hitting your sweet spot more incessantly. You suddenly go quiet, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you come around him in a silent scream.

“Holy shit, gooooood fucking girl,” his concentration switches to pure ecstasy when he watches you shake atop of him, he can feel everything—every muscle and contraction around him, it was enough for the heat burning in his abdomen to explode along with you. The base of his cock throbs as spurts of cum shoots inside of you while a guttural moan rumbles deep within his throat.

His thrusts begin faltering as he tries to coax the most of your orgasm out of you, pushing his cum further into you as much as he can until the fat head of his now flaccid cock burns in overstimulation.

You collapse onto his chest blissed out and limp when you finally come down from your high. Completely fulfilled again as he hugs you to his sticky body, not caring to pull out, keeping you plugged full of his cum. His chest heaves against your head, rising and falling almost like a soothing lullaby, sitting there and just listening to each others heavy breathing.

“I’m sorry again my love,” he speaks after a while of calming quiteness.

“Shhh don’t talk about it anymore,” you chide playfully, resting your chin on his chest to stare up at him, “just don’t ignore me like that again.”

“Oh I don’t plan on it.”

The familiarity of your bond re-emerges. The tension and hurt from earlier is entirely gone, replaced by a sense of comfort and ease with you lax in his arms. His eyes drinks in the sight of you with a content smile plastered on his face. He’ll have to book a getaway for the rest of his winter break and take you over and over to make up for lost time.

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost.

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

11 Lap Dances

Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Modern AU / Mafia or Assasin AU but very vague / Reader works at a nightclub / I had way too much fun with this entry so it's a bit longer. Actually thinking about writing more parts for this but it could be read as a stand-alone

A pair of stunning amber eyes had been on you for the past couple of nights. They were hard to miss, leaving a lingering curiosity in the back of your mind.

You continued your performance on the stage as you always did, ignoring all the slurred demands and shrill whistles being thrown at you by the rambunctious crowd. Light bounced off the glass beads on your dress as you moved, creating a dazzling spectacle that few on the dance floor had the heart to appreciate, even if you had their undivded attention. They didn't truly see you, but that was expected. Your seductive dance fed into their fleeting, lust-induced fantasies. There was rarely an exception, and you could always pick them out.

Your eyes fluttered over to him again. He simply sat there, silently watching as if that was all he was here to do. It was all he had done for the past few performances he had attended. In a crowd like this, he stood out like a sore thumb.

The dance finally came to a close. You descended from the stage and made your way through the crowd to the bar to ask for a thirst quencher. Your eyes idly scanned the crowd again for the face that had been occupying your mind. He had disappeared like a puff of smoke again. A bit of disappointment settled on your shoulders as you wondered if he would return tomorrow night to watch you.

Your admirer was a well-dressed man. You could tell even from the stage. His demeanor remained calm and collected despite the loud and rambunctious environment. It was hard not to be intrigued. What was someone like him doing in a place like this? He looked like he belonged elsewhere, somewhere less choked up by cigarette smoke and clumsy drunkards.

Your boss saunters up to you while you were sipping on your drink, thoughts wandering off with a man you knew nothing about.

"A guest requested you." She held up a key card between two fingers.

"Didn't I tell you? I'm not doing private performances."

The woman frowned, but wasn't surprised by your immediate decline. The two of you had an agreement.

"You might want to see this one. Count it as a personal favor to me."

You furrowed your brow, taking a good look at her expression. Ever since you took to the stage, she had been rather lenient on you to the point of favoritism, allowing you to decline interacting with guests you didn't wish to. It wasn't a selfless gesture, but a calculated one. Perceived scarcity artificially inflates value. Your reputation as an untouchable commodity only made you more desirable to the masses that gathered here. She could sell your presence for far more if she withheld you from her ordinary patrons. Their unmet desires fueled your reputation and padded her wallet.

"How much did he give you?" You asked bluntly.

"Nothing." She replied, an unsual tinge of fear colored her voice as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't want to throw you under the bus. You know that."

"He threatened you, didn't he?" You realized.

"Just take care of him for me. I owe you one." She didn't confirm nor deny your suspicions.

The woman standing before you was no herbivore. She swallowed people whole and didn't even bother to spit out their bones once she's done chewing them up. Plenty of illegal activities happened within these walls. She permitted it, protected it even. So the only thing that could stir fear in her was someone who could either put her behind bars or held enough tangible power to quietly make her disappear into thin air.

It looked like you had no choice in this matter.

"Fine. They probably just want a lap dance."

"You better dance like our lives depend on it. I'm counting on you." She almost pleads. It's a first for you, hearing this kind of tone.

She told you the private room number and you plucked the key card from her hand. You immediately downed the rest of your glass and made your way down the hallway. The blinking lights and music dimmed a bit as you distanced yourself from the dance floor. You drew in a deep breath before swiping the card and pushing the door open.

An audible gasp escaped you when your eyes met with a pair of striking amber ones. It was your mysterious admirer, the one you had forgotten about once your boss approached you. He was the monster that wretched woman was begging you to rescue her from?

"You've taken me quite some effort to find." He greets you by your real name rather than your stage alias.

Have you perhaps gotten hit by a car and lost a portion of your memory? You'd swear this man was a complete stranger. If you had met him before, you'd surely remember him. Who could forget such a face?

The door clicked shut behind you as you stood there, not sure how to go about this encounter anymore. You were expecting some large burly man with tattoos running down his arms, so you were actually quite relieved to see him. If every VIP that came through the front doors of the establishment was this attractive, your boss would not have to beg you to entertain them. You would be volunteering to.

"You were looking for me?" You asked, but regretted it immediately. Of course he was looking for you. That was why your boss went to fetch you.

"I have." He sighed, lamenting how difficult it was to convince a mother hen to surrender her prized chick to him. "Come here, dear. Let me take a closer look at you."

Like an obedience switch had been flipped on inside you, your body blindly obeyed his words. That silky, deep voice was hard to resist.

"You have his eyes and hair." He remarks out of the blue.

"Whose?"

"Your father's."

Your eyes widened. When your mother was still with you, she refused to mention your father, even when you asked. She simply said he was a dead man. You've always known he must've been the one you got your eyes and hair from since your mother didn't share those traits with you. Everytime you stared in the mirror, you wondered what your father looked like. After she died, you stopped wasting precious thoughts on useless pondering like that.

"Where is he? He's alive, isn't he?" You asked excitedly.

"Finding you was his dying wish. Due to how young you were when you were separated from him, reliable leads were difficult to come by. As such, I was unable to fulfill his contract until now."

The hope went out in your eyes yet again, after he confirmed that your father was indeed dead as your mother claimed. You shrugged and in an apathetic instant, tossed the gloomy thoughts to the back of your mind.

"So, what now? Are you here to be my surrogate dad or something?"

Your handsome stranger chuckled. "If you'd prefer to see me as a fatherly figure, I can certainly make that accommodation."

"I'd rather not." A mischievous smirk slips into your lips. "Unless you mean for me to call you daddy in a different kind of context."

His brow raised at your flirtation. "Careful now. You barely know me."

"I don't need to." You leaned in. "The less I know, the better off I am, especially in this industry."

"She's taught you well, I see." He hummed in approval.

"Now that we've gotten the reason you're here out of the way, how about I entertain you for a while?" You whispered in a sultry voice. "Can't let you leave empty-handed, right?"

"Your father would not approve of you attempting to seduce me."

"He's dead." You reminded him as you slowly lowered yourself onto his lap, straddling his knees loosely. "Besides, he wouldn't approve of you eyeing his babygirl the way you did while I was on stage either."

Your hips swayed back and forth, ghosting over his leg, barely touching him. This was for his eyes only. If he wanted you, he would have to reach out and take you into his own hands.

"You were putting on quite the performance. Was that not your desired outcome?" He mused, unashamed for being singled out for something the entire audience was guilty of.

"So you admit you want to fuck me too."

"I'm no saint, sweetheart." He warned you.

"Neither am I." You challenged.

The song coming through the speakers was the same one booming on the other side of the door, just without the obnoxious crowd. It gave you something to synchronize to. You rolled your hips to the sensual rhythm. The fluidity of your movements resembled waves tossing against a rocky shore, relentlessly wearing him down.

"So what's your name, handsome?" Your voice distracted him from his thoughts.

"Zhongli." He replied without much hesitation. His voice had gotten thick and slightly gravelly from all your hard work.

A pleased smile sat on your lips. From the first time you saw him in the crowd, he had captured your attention. It took him long enough to make himself more than just a spectator. In a matter of time, this man would be putty in your hands, you thought. Confidence was your charm as well as your blindspot.

"I'll make sure to say it nice and loud when you have me wrapped around your cock later." You whispered right into his ear.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, dear."

"You're going to end up fucking me. Why does it matter what order it happens?" You asked, putting more deliberation into your movements.

"I prefer not to rush into things." He chuckled.

"Are you going to make me sign papers or something?" You teased him.

"I will not lay a finger on you unless you agree to my terms." He managed to say between labored breaths.

True to his word, you realized this man really hadn't touched you at all ever since you've entered the room. All the physical contact between the two of you had been initiated solely by you. A blush spread over your face. You really were getting a bit impatient, but you were glad Zhongli didn't seem to mind.

"What are you, some kind of businessman?" You ask as you press yourself flush against his body. Your lap dance had gradually devolved into something much more erotic and tempting.

"You can say that." He replies cryptically.

"I agree." You pant, getting way too aroused for your own good.

"You haven't even heard them yet." He sighed.

It was getting difficult to think straight with you grinding against him like a sinful little devil. Your audacity was as dangerous as it was daring. It left all too much responsibility for him to shoulder. You might have your feet buried in the mud of this filthy establishment, but this mud was nothing like the bloody sludge his shoes were constantly dragging through. He had found you already, just as your father asked. All he needed to do was keep an eye on you. He didn't even need to see to it personally. Sending Xiao would be a much more efficient course of action. That would keep things simpler for him. Sleeping with you was not part of his original plan.

"Just fuck me good. It's not that complicated."

If you had retained even a shred of caution, you would be treading much more carefully. Your mind was clouded with lust and your only goal was to get this man in the same degenerate state as you.

He shook his head, holding back for whatever reason. You could care less. It wasn't like your reputation could get any more scandalous than it already was, with you working in this sort of place.

"I will need you to quit and cut all ties with this establishment. A new identity and corresponding documents would have to be arranged. You will have to move into my home so that I can see to your safety. Many things will have to change in order for you to adjust to your new life. You will also have to learn to use a gun."

You froze. What the actual fuck?

Why the hell would you need to learn how to pull a trigger if you get involved with him? The whiplash of his words finally brought back your rationality. Your boss's desperate expression resurfaced in your mind. What did he threaten her with in order to make this meeting happen? He didn't deny it when you asked if he was a businessman. What kind of shady business did he deal in to warrant these kinds of precaution?

"As I thought." He chuckled. "How about we slow things down and get to know each other first? Then you can decide if you'd still like to get involved with me."

You narrowed your eyes at the handsome man smiling so harmlessly at you. He was putting it in no uncertain terms that entangling your life with his was going to uproot yours entirely. Even with that said, you were still tempted to step right into his murky water. If he hadn't given you that somber warning, your understanding of Zhongli might remain shallow and short-lived, as infatuations often are. How he laid out all the complications you'd face upfront gave you an ironic sense of groundedness that none of your past flings ever came close to giving you.

"Okay." You stopped moving against him and just draped your arms over his shoulders. "You can start by telling me what exactly is it that you do."

He drew in an exasperated breath. You had him fooled when you first entered the room. He even praised your boss for teaching you to repress your curiosity. It had gotten far too many inquisitive minds killed and he would hate to see you join the body count.

"I deal in various businesses." He vaguely answers.

"I'm going to need more than that, Zhongli." You frown.

"It would serve you no good." He declines with an appeasing smile. "Knowing too much will  paint a target on your back. Your father entrusted you to me, sweetheart. As such, I cannot simply tell you what you want to know. Anything that can potentially put you in harm's way, I will not risk. That includes disclosing information that could compromise you or make you a candidate for taking hostage. Do you now see the severity of what you are asking?" He explained patiently.

"What's the point of warning me then, hmm?" You gripped Zhongli's tie, gently tugging him towards you. Your breath feathered against his lips. "Why even approach me if not meeting you is the safest I'd ever be?"

"I cannot refute that." He admitted gravely.

"Then shut up."

Something had obviously overridden his reasoning and you weren't about to let it go without taking advantage of it. You pressed your lips against his in a quick kiss, parting before he could even think to push you away. He swallowed as you resumed that dreadful lap dance of yours.

Zhongli's tie was finally freed from your grip when you twirled your body around. The back of your bejeweled halter dress was consisted of a dainty chain clasped at the nape of your neck and a narrow strip of fabric, leaving your back completely exposed. Plush thighs peeked out from underneath the skirt. You gathered your hair on one side, leaving the other side of your neck bare. It was a wordless invitation.

"If you believe you can handle it, then my fears are unfounded." He finally yields.

You threw your gaze over your shoulder, taking Zhongli's hand and guiding it to your hips. The fabric of your skirt rode up as his other hand slid up your thigh, fingers splaying as he palmed your ass. You arched your back, swaying with the music. A moan escaped your lips when he gave your butt a good squeeze.

"They are. You'll see. I can take it..." You gasped.

His hands had strayed. One of them had ventured between your thighs, pressing against your soaked entrance through the fabric. It was already sticky with your arousal. His other hand had traveled upwards, slipping underneath your halter to play with your chest. You let out a soft moan as he groped and kneaded the soft flesh, enjoying how pliable you were in his grip.

"Oh?" Zhongli hummed. "Is that so?"

Zhongli gathered you closer, spread your legs wider apart and continued to finger you relentlessly. Your lap dance had come to an end as soon as you placed his hands on your body. You began trembling as his lips joined in on the assault of your senses, leaving sporadic kisses all along your neck and shoulders.

"Please..." You whimpered. "Zhongli!"

"Just a little more. I would hate to ruin this pretty little cunt of yours." He replied calmly, despite his cock straining painfully against his pants.

Your lips fell open, spilling moan after moan as his fingers dug into your drenched folds and bullied your clit. Your desperation had you clawing at his belt, trying without success to free his cock.

"Your father would be disappointed at how brazen you've become. Have you no shame?"

"No...ah!" You cried out as he pinched the sensitive nub at your entrance. "Shut up and... fuck me already!"

"Stand up for a moment."

You did as told while he unbuckled and pulled down his pants. Once the shuffling was over, he gathered you back into his lap. His fingers clutched your waist as he aligned your dripping hole with the tip of his cock. You held your breath as your legs trembled. Zhongli drew in a sharp breath. Labored breathing followed as he slowly lowered you on his cock. A whimper seeped out of you as he speared you open, stretching your insides so deliciously, your walls immediately began clenching.

"Sweetheart, you must relax..." He let out a tortured groan. "That's it... Take all of it like you said you could."

You whined and moaned as he continued to push deeper, cock disappearing into you inch by inch.

"Ah... Too thick!" You gasped as he shoved his entire length up into you.

With a helpless moan, you dropped your head back against his shoulder. You never got to see the size of his cock before he put it in you, but judging by how painful the initial stretch was, he must’ve been swollen beyond imagination.

"Bend down for me, sweetheart. Yes... That's a good girl." He praised you while lifting you off his cock before sheathing you all the way down to the hilt.

"Too fast! Ah... Zhongli!" You choked out in between gasps and moans.

"You're doing so well, my sweet. Are you sure?" He chuckled. "Or was that a slip of tongue? You can certainly take it. Right, darling?"

As if to prove you had not yet reached your limit, he began to maneuver you up and down his shaft at an even quicker pace. Laschivous squelches and wet slaps emited from where the two of you were joined. Your mind had since turned into slush, lips parted in an endless stream of incoherent babbling and high pitched moans.

You lost count of how many times you came for him. It became a drunken blur to you. There were flashes of blinding pleasure and sensual moments interspersed in between. He bent you over a barstool once. You faintly remember being pinned against the counter as well as the wall. Most of the fucking happened on the couch though. Your body was so overwhelmed with pleasure, senses riled up and muscles tense with repeated strain, when it was all over, you pretty much collapsed into a pile of mush. You clung to Zhongli as he carried you out of the building and into the back of his car. Your dress was miraculously still on your body, but he had wrapped his coat around you for good measure. Your thighs were a glistening mess, a sight he'd rather keep to himself. As he exited, several of his men who were scattered within the club left with him while some remained to take care of whatever they were tasked to do. Your boss didn't dare intercept him to ask where he was taking you. From the moment Zhongli asked for you, you were no longer in her hands.

When you woke, an unfamiliar bedroom greeted you rather than the VIP room. Your halter dress had been changed into a nightgown and you were lying in a large bed covered in silk sheets and pillows. Your eyes wandered, scanning the rest of your surroundings. In a corner sat a bunch of boxes and a suitcase that unmistakably belonged to you. You never remembered packing anything, but it was obvious that the stacks of boxes contained items that also belonged to you. You climbed out of bed and made your way to the coffee table. A cellphone, an ID, and a post-it note was laid out on it. The handwriting on the note was neat and elegant, as expected of someone like Zhongli.

"There is bamboo shoot soup on the stove. Reheat it if it has gotten cold. Your father used to cook this often. Hopefully you will enjoy the taste."

You stared at the note, spacing out. You had never met your father before. Didn't even know his name nor what he looked like. There was nothing for you to attach anything to, not even resentment. However, from Zhongli's mention of him, you could tell he held fond memories of the man. Through that faceless man, you had crossed paths with a mysterious stranger who had swept you off your feet and dropped you into an unfamiliar world.

You picked up the ID. That was certainly your face staring back at you on the photo, but the name didn't belong to you. Neither did the birthday nor address.

Bits of conversation flitted through your mind as well as everything that happened between you and Zhongli last night. Only a few hours had passed between now and when you were brought here. Unless he had arranged all of this beforehand, there was no way it would be ready in such short notice.

He warned you beforehand that all of this was going to happen. You should be much more distraught at the sudden change of environment, but you weren't. His world was no less uncertain than yours, with its own set of dangers and unspoken rules. Perhaps it was even more unpredictable than the one you had just escaped. Maybe you had fled the pan and jumped into a skillet. The only grace you could cling to was the man who had dragged you into it. Zhongli promised to protect you and arm you with the means to protect yourself. Already, that was a better arrangement than what you had with your boss, who was now inevitably your ex-boss. No longer did you have to dance for nameless strangers in return for her favor. At most, you'd give an occasional lap dance to someone you actually wanted to entertain. You doubted Zhongli would share you with anyone else with the way he fucked you last night.

Your ex-boss's words fluttered through your mind. 'You better dance like our lives depend on it. I'm counting on you.'

You sure did dance like your life depended on it. Your performance was so good, Zhongli couldn't bear to leave you there for another day. Unfortunately for that woman, she was now on her own. You didn't worry about her. She would find a replacement for you in no time. As for Zhongli, he seemed like someone you could actually count on since the very reason he came looking for you was to fulfill a contract he had made to your father. He took them seriously, which convinced you that maybe you should enter one with him as well. At least with him, you had the confidence that he would see through with it.

Now what would a contract with Zhongli look like? What did you have to offer him? Sure, you were going to learn how to use a gun. Perhaps you would train hard and get good enough to be of actual use with it. There must be certain things an attractive woman with a gun could do that a man couldn't. Or maybe he would rather you give him a certain amount of entertainment on a regular basis. You would ask him the next time you see him.

[harlynstein]

ALRIGHT so the Bill in this AU is done! Might as well drop some more lore on his behalf LMAO

Alright so Bill was a child raised in a heavily spiritual and loving parents and twin sibling named REDACTED. Both had always surrounded themselves with nature, and to no surprise would their children enjoyed it as well. Bill at the time had shown signs of brilliance, but struggled immensely due to the relentless bullying of his disfigured eye and the other being completely fake. He was pulled out of school during intermediate until high school. While he still had a hard time it was tolerable to say he pushed through thanks to his brother. Now, his brother REDACTED was never pulled from school, meaning that he had an easier time getting along with class mates in comparison to Bill.

With bill wanting to make friends, he refused to mention any other bullying to avoid being pulled out again, to which he develops a friend group he considers close till this day. Because of the sudden drift, both personalities and experiences clashed constantly. While they still stuck together, cared for one another– bill couldn’t help but feel awkward, and felt suffocated by his brother’s success to blend in. Bill managed to graduate early due to his genius, and managed to get into college at the age of 15. He finished his degree young, and decided to go into Paranormal Studies. His brother during this time, had a falling out with Bill during a college party. Leaving both parties humiliated, embarrassed, and ashamed they became estranged, forcing Bill more into his college studies. His college roommates in this AU are Pyronica and Kryptos, to which both had decided to come and help Bill on his journey to the unknown anomalies.

In the van the three traveled, made a couple of friends throughout their journey, and recorded countless entries on their travels. However, they discover the only way to truly understand the reason why this all happened was to travel to Gravity Falls. Using whatever money he had, he built what he called his “Cipher Den” a place where the three are able to gather their findings and begin to find answers.

Alas, while they all seemed to collect plenty, for Bill it wasn’t enough. No answers to where they came from, or why they existed. It haunted him day and night until roaming within the woods and stumbling in a cave encased in writing to summon a powerful being. So powerful in fact it is warned to never summon this demon, for his fate will destroy everything you love.

Of course we wouldn’t be able to move on with the plot if he didn’t! And so, Bill was introduced to Ford! A creature wise, smart, calm and collected. His approach while intimidating at first, would soon have Bill admiring his brains. Their deal was struck, and in secret kept this away from his friends. Slowly he’d been manipulated by Ford, slowly isolating him until Kyotos and Pyronica would barely see him outside of his lab. Soon, the portal would begin its process, blinding following Ford as he was a god.

It wasn’t until the two assistants were swept into the portal for a second that they’d warn Bill, before being shut down by the obsessed scientist. Sadly that would be the last time they’d ever see Bill, as for the next few years he became a hermit in the Den as his friends ditched him entirely. Ill managed to get into contact with his brother, where there was slight hope in bonding from REDACTED, Bill still was stuck in his old ways, fighting his brother and being knocked into the portal himself. His brother taking his place had pretended to be him, and in the mean time turn his Den to a dive bar, a popular one thanks to the odd and bizarre “pieces” scatter among the joint.

Currently, Bill is out of the portal which brings us to current day!

This AU is pretty much if Bill and Ford swapped places but lived similar paths in life:

-Ford an being from a different dimension, destroying it, went apeshit, and is a universally wanted criminal

-Bill a paranormal/anomaly scientist who fell for Ford’s trap, shut everyone out and was the one sucked into the portal

There shall be more info soon enough!

[withwritersblock]

Coconut Perfume

~Coconut Perfume by Ray Laurel~

Author's Note: I was asked for more Cale and you shall recieve. I went off of an image I get when I listen to this song teheh Summary: Cale becomes infatuted with the maid of honor Warnings: uhR? Word Count: 2,217 Cale Makar x fm!reader

She stood staring into the floor length mirror, admiring the slim gray dress. It was simple off the shoulder neckline that showed off some of her cleveage. She tilted her head to the side admiring her frame. Her dress took the longest to alter between all of the bridesmaids. There was something that went wrong in the process, but that didn’t matter.

Here she was the maid of honor at her best friends wedding. She took a deep breath as she looked in the mirror to see her best friend, Madison, reading a letter. Her soon to be husband had written a love letter to her. Y/N quickly lifted some of the dress as she took fast steps towards her. Madison covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh I love this man so much,” she mumbled as she met Y/N’s gaze. Her childhood best friend found the one and she couldn’t have been happier.

Well, she could’ve. She was jealous. She would never let that word slip from her lips but that is truly how she was feeling. Y/N was also on the path of marriage with her high school sweetheart; who happened to up and leave two years ago. Now, she has been single and miserable. 

But she was so excited to watch her best friend marry the man she loves. 

The ceremony soon began and she was standing beside Madison, holding a bouquet of flowers. Her eyes was scanning the crowd, recognizing majority of the people in the audience. Except the collection of men seated in the back row. They had all dark blue suits on and seemed to be unfamiliar to her. 

As the maid of honor, she felt nervous that she was unaware of who those men were but as a very single woman; the sight of the blond man sitting at the isle peeked her interest. It seemed as though, she had peeked his as well. Or he was staring at the bride and groom, she wasn’t quite sure.

He had a small smile on his lips as he watched the ceremony. She forced her gaze back towards the bride and groom. “I pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride,” the officiant expressed. Madison’s smiled widely before her fiance, Mitchell, leaned towards her kissing her.

All of the guest began to cheer loudly. She felt her eyes tear up as she smiled widely. She found her gaze shifting towards the blond man who was now standing with the rest of the guests. Madison and Mitchell interlocked their fingers as they stared walking down the isle together to leave the ceremony room together. The ceremony and the reception were both on the same lot. It took all of three minutes to walk from one location to the other. 

Y/N next job was to glide to the center of the alter, “Okay the reception will begin in fifteen minutes, please hang out here until it is party time,” she explained. All of the young people cheered along. The blond man tilted his head to the side, nudging the arm of the man beside him. 

Y/N smiled towards the crowd before herself and the rest of the bridal party began walking down the isle to the reception room. She kept walking, keeping her gaze on the floor for only a moment. She lifted her gaze once she felt the magnet of the blond man’s gaze. She met his eye, watched him scan her frame as she walked. She felt a smirk forming to her lips as she continued.

It had been an hour into the reception, her meal was exquisite and she was now indulging in the free booze. She was sitting at the end of the bar nursing the champagne in her glass. It had been her fourth glass and she was not planning on slowing down. She wasn’t close with anyone in the bridal party or anyone at the wedding really. Majority of the bridal party were Madison’s friends from college. Which she didn’t meet until two weeks before the wedding.

Here she was in a state that she barely knows with people she barely knows and she was trying to be happy. She was trying. All she wanted to do was get back to Denver. She moved there one year ago for a new job opportunity and she loved it there. 

A man leaned against the bartop beside her, taking in a deep breath. “I’m Cale,” he said holding out his hand. She scanned his frame, meeting his blue eyes. He was the man sitting beside the isle. She smiled as she took his hand. 

“I’m Y/N,” she smiled. 

“Shouldn’t the maid of honor be on the dance floor?” he asked as the bartender placed a small glass of whiskey in front of him. Cale smiled politely as he slid a twenty dollar bill towards the bartender. She forced a smile as she tilted her head back.

“The maid of honor only knows the bride and the bride is dancing with her new husband,” she offered, leaning back slightly as she pointed towards the center of the dance floor. He nodded as he clenched his jaw. “You must be friends with Mitchell,” she mumbled. 

“Yeah, yeah. We played at UMass together,” Cale explained as he brought his glass towards his lips, “Though it’s been like three years since I’ve seen him so does feel a bit weird that I came,” 

She met his eyes, “Why did you?” she asked as she brought her glass of champagne to her lips. He squinted his eyes as she dropped his gaze towards his glass. He watched the liquid hit the sides of the glass. 

“He invited all of his old teammates, would be weird if I was the only one not to show,” he explained as he met her gaze, “I already get enough grief about being a “hot shot, too good for them”,” he said with hand air quotes. She tilted her head to the side pursing her lips forward. She watched his cheeks pinken up as the words left his lips.

“And why would they think that?” she questioned while he shifted his gaze to meet her eye. He swallowed hard as he clenched his jaw. He smiled softly.

“I left the team to play in the NHL,” he let out simply. She shrugged.

“So did Mitchell,” she said confidently. He leaned on his elbow as he shifted his whole body to face her. She leaned towards him, their faces slowly getting closer to one another.

“So you know nothing about the NHL, hockey, any of that?” he asked while he scanned her features. She furrowed her eyebrows slightly as her lips curled upward slightly.

“I moved to Denver the year Colorado won the cup, that’s about it,” she let out. 

Cale’s smirk slowly formed into a wide smile, he tilted his head back while laughing. “What’s funny about that?” she let out, laughing nervously. He shook his head while laughing. “What?” she said laughing.

“I play for Colorado,” he said as his laughter slowed. Her mouth fell open as she stared towards him suspiciously; another nervous laugh left her lips. “I’m serious,” he mumbled. 

She quickly pulled her phone from the small clutch purse laying beside her glass, “What are you doing?” Cale asked as he watched her. She shook her head as she began google the Avalanche’s roster. He leaned forward, glancing down towards her phone. “Are you seriously fact checking me?” he let out while laughing. 

She continued scrolling until she saw the name Cale Makar with his photo. She clicked it and held her phone next to his head, “No shit,” she mumured as she shifted her gaze between her phone screen and Cale’s face. 

He bit his bottom lip as he looked into her eyes. “So you live in Denver?” he asked. All she could let out is hum. 

Her gaze looked down towards his lips and she took a deep breath. “Do you wanna get out of here?” she asked. His eyes widened, she chuckled nervously. “I mean go somewhere else?” she offered. He squinted slightly before he nodded slowly. She shifted her gaze towards the bar and noticed a full unopened bottle of champagne beneath the bar top.

She quickly reached over and took a hold of the champagne bottle, “Come on!” she muttered out as she quickly ran through the reception with the champagne bottle held tight to her chest.

For a few seconds he simply watched her run away, she spun around meeting his eye while laughing. Cale eyes went wide as he began to follow after, aiding the robbery of probably very expensive champagne.

She ran out of the reception and slowed down a few feet away from the entrance of the building. Cale stopped beside her laughing. “What was that?!” he asked while laughing. 

“We need some beverages on our adventures, don’t we?” she asked as she shook the bottle slightly towards him as she walked backwards. He furrowed his eyebrows as he stared towards her suspiciously. 

“You just stole that,” he pointed out as he followed her, watching her walk away backwards. “What if someone saw us?” he let out, taking small steps towards her.

“I doubt anyone would even care, there’s like five other bottles behind that bar,” she offered as she turned around, walking normal. Cale smiled widely, his cheeks hot as he followed after her. 

“Where are we going?” Cale questioned as he adjusted the suit jacket on his frame. 

She spun around again facing him, she handed him the bottle of champagne. He reluctantly took a hold of it, “Can you open it, I’ve got acrylics,” she said as she smiled towards him teasingly. He scoffed as he without hesitation opened the bottle. “Thank you,” she mumbled as she continued walking down the path. Cale walked beside her as he took a swig of the champagne, cringing at the taste. He was never a fan. He handed it towards her. 

“Thank you for escaping with me,” she mumbled. He smiled softly as he shoved his hands into his suit pockets. 

“Why do you need to escape your best friends wedding?” he questioned as his eyes landed on the softly lit dock next to a lake. He scanned the small orange glows on the lake. She took a deep breath. 

“I’m happy for her, but I may be a bit jealous,” she muttered. He nodded as he shifted his gaze towards her. She walked in front of him watching her begin walking down the dock. “I was engaged,” she mumbled as she spun around meeting his gaze for a brief second before she took a long sip of the champagne. 

“Was?” Cale questioned as he walked towards her, standing only a few inches away from her. She met his gaze, slowly scanning his features. Admiring the reddness of his cheeks and the small smirk to his lips. 

“He was an asshole,” she mumbled as she handed the bottle towards him. Cale hummed as his eyes admired the curve of her lips and he was suddenly very aware of how close she was to him. How unwilling he was to move away from her. “He would never do something spontaneous like this,” she uttered, taking in a shaky breath.

Cale smiled softly, “Neither would I, but a gorgeous girl asked me to run away with her. How could I say no?” he let out. His eyes widened as he ran a hand over his eyes, “That was a lot, sorry I’m drunk,” he mumbled as he brought the bottle towards his lips again. She laughed. 

“No, no, call me gorgeous again,” she mumbled. He dropped the champagne bottle onto the floor at the same time as he took a hold of her cheek pulling her towards him. He kissed her urgently, sloppily as she rested her hands against his chest. 

His now free hand took a hold of her waist pulling her towards him, closing all the space between them. She slid her hands from his chest to around his neck. She hummed against his lips as he used both of his hands against her hips as they began stumbling around, completely unaware of where they were. 

After a few seconds, that seemed like lifetimes, they stumbled and tripped over the edge of the dock. They separated as they fell into the lake. They both reappeared above from the water together, laughing together. 

“That did not happen!” she let out as she wiped her hand across her face, Cale shook his head, the water droplets landing on her face. She gasped as she splashed him. He chuckled as he splashed her back. 

“This is like my favorite suit,” he mumbled as he inched closer to her, their heads barely bopping above the water, the lake surprisingly deep. 

“Boo-who,” she pouted teasingly as she leaned towards him, kissing him so urgently as they barely stayed above the freezing water. 

He pulled away, gasping for air, “You’re like not real,” he mumbled as he ran his hands across her dress that now was skin tight to her frame under the water. She smiled softly as she pecked his lips as she panted.

[thesensteawitch]

What Does Akashic Records Have To Say About Your Life Path? 👁️🪻

Pick A Pile Reading

Is your life path aligned with your soul's DNA?

Just grab a chocolate bar as this is going to be a slightly long reading.🪻

🥀Take a deep breath...and choose!🥀

(Left to Right---Pile1, Pile2, Pile3)

Hello, Senstea Souls! Though this is a collective reading I have tried my best to be as specific as possible. If you want a specific career/life path related reading then just slide into my DMs and ask away.

I have a separate spread with a blend of the Japanese concept of Ikigai. It will narrow down your options by clarifying your passion, profession and vocation in life.

For more information just message me!🌼

Now, feel free to begin the reading.

Pile 1

Hello, my dear pile 1. The reading is divided into three parts. If you find this helpful then do come back and drop a tip in my jar. They are always appreciated!🍁

Your life path according to your Akashic record

4 of swords, 6 of wands, 5 of wands

It seems that your Akashic record is taking me back in time. Your true life path has a strong connection to the past. I see that you fought battles. The energy is of the competition. Sudden changes, in fact, some kind of shock. There were disputes within your community, whatever you were a part of. You were the star of the group and others wanted to probably take that shine. I don't know why but I see a leg injury. Something deeply bothered you. The pain was so profound that it found its solace deep in your subconscious. Something made you fall sick or bedridden but you got back on your feet again. But the joy did not last long. You had to face more competition. You probably didn't get enough time to contemplate and understand what was really going on around you and among your people. It created a deep wound. Something that you need to deal with in this lifetime. If you ask some very important questions to yourself, especially regarding the relationships with people in your life you may find the answer to the blockage on your life path. I feel some people did not have the best interest for you they just wanted to be with you to be a part of your light. And that created a wound. You thought they truly loved you but perhaps it wasn't true. Your illusions of people had to die. Yes, exactly! What illusions are you living in? The idea of people you have is keeping you in the dark and unless you find the truth the light will not enter your life.

The path that you are currently on

Ace of wands, The Hierophant

I see that people come to you for advice. You have that spark. I have been saying spark, light and even I can see a lion. The king of the jungle. You definitely had an important position in the past and you still do. You may not believe it but your aura still carries that energy and that's why people are so attracted to you and come to you for advice. I also see that you doubt your capabilities. You doubt that you can ever guide yourself. I see two pillars, two polarities. On one side you know that you are a good listener but on the other hand, you still don't feel very convinced about your capabilities. Somewhere you are carrying the lesson of your past life, which is good, but it has broken your confidence in people and that's why it may be difficult for you to trust them. Others know that they can rely on you but you can't rely on them completely. That hurts. It also lowers your self-esteem. It may give rise to people people-pleasing attitude. Basically, no strong boundaries. I also see that great ideas come to you. You can be an advisor or a counselor. But you need to have strong boundaries and allow yourself to be somebody out of your community. You are your own person. You need to move out of your comfort zone and talk to people out of your circle too. People will let you down, expect that from them. But you also need to know that some people won't. Some may surprise you with their generosity. I also see that someone admires you. Isn't that beautiful? And you may have no idea about it. You're not wishing hard enough to finally let the physical manifestation of your dreams come to you. You have a significant purpose in this lifetime which is linked to guiding others.

How can you align your path with your soul's DNA?

5 of pentacles, 9 of wands

Trust. That's what I hear. Whatever personal matter you have dealt with in the past (in this lifetime or the other) will soon come to an end. But first, you need to let yourself truly feel and see where are they arising from. Please don't drown in your tears. But honor them. They help you release the hurt. Hope is in your cards. Don't be afraid. You're afraid of something you have no idea about. But the feeling of fear is definitely there. I do see that you have been putting in a lot of physical and mental effort but things did not turn out to be as you thought they would. You're afraid that your dreams will never come true. But the authority and love you aim for has already happened to you. So why not again? The answer is that first, you need to heal some relationship dynamics along with your own heart. Value your heart. I feel the weather in your heart has either been too cold or burning like fire. Give yourself time. Virtue lies in the middle. Find balance. Allow yourself to visualize that you can live a normal and happy life without the crazy extremes. I see that in your life it has been a matter of work, money, and words. Whenever a challenge comes to you say thank you to the divine. It helps you clear your karma so that you can live a stable and peaceful life. Everything is happening for your soul. Please take care of your health and keep moving forward. If something isn't working please release it. You do not need to cling to an idea so much. You can channel another from the divine. It's simple, just ask. Also, don't ask, “What were you made for?” Ask, “What were you made of?” I am sure the answer will come from the stars and they will tell you that you were the brightest among all. It's time that you remember who you were. It's not about what you can do, it's about who you are.

Pile 2

Hello, my dear pile 2. The reading is divided into three parts. If you find this helpful then do come back and drop a tip in my jar. They are always appreciated!🍁

Your life path according to your Akashic record

The Chariot, 6 of pentacles

Your life's purpose in the Akashic record has something to do with the yin-yang concept. I hear that this may sound absurd to some of you but what I am about to say is the truth. Your true life path is leading you to break some attachments and start this new journey of serving others with a heart full of love and generosity. I also see that the more you become self-aware the easier it will be for you to understand others and do something of value for them. It's about balancing the scales. Now if you are wondering what if you won't get successful after doing what I said then know that success is written in your stars and will chase you once you align with your life's path. You will be victorious. In life, you will be carrying the sweet and bitter moments with you. The path that you are on is all about YOU. What I mean by that is understanding your feelings. Why you do what you do and how can you change it. Face the truth of life head-on. You have to be a fair rider on your life path. The life path in your Akashic records is pretty rare. By rare I mean the portal that opens once in a while. You need to prepare yourself for that day when the veil is thinner and you can finally enter the new phase of your life.

The path that you are currently on

2 of wands, 7 of cups, 7 of swords

Okay, so what I see on the path that you have chosen or are currently on are options, instability, confusion, indecision, deceiving oneself, and trying to take the shortcut. Currently, I see that the desires and so many wishes that you have seem impossible for you to achieve. You start a plan but you aren't able to execute it and dilemma always hangs around with you. It's an everyday struggle in your life but it is impacting the bigger purpose you have for yourself in your Akashic record. You are supposed to make a choice here. Unless you choose nothing in your life will move. Life may seem stagnant. And to add some movement in your day-to-day life you may fool yourself by finding more and more interests and adding them to your list. Just so you can make another plan and then another and then another. Then one day you see the list of your desires in which some are still exciting to you and some feel like they have lost their spark. And you don't even get the time to question what is it exactly you want to do and what is stopping you from doing it. It's like you want to travel the world but you just waste all your time in adding cities to your bucket list and making the itinerary for each one of them and end up getting overwhelmed. Gosh! That's exhausting. The Universe is trying to send you signs but because of your confused mind, you are not sure of the signs. Please take this reading as a sign at least and take action. Also, before taking action you need to heal yourself. Make sure you have a PLAN for that. I see you're very good at planning. Make a task table where you can add the exercises that suit you, hobbies that relax your mind, and food that you must eat to keep your mind and body healthy. It's not that difficult. Don't try to just keep adding to the list. Start small. But do take the action in whichever area of your life it is required.

How can you align your path with your soul's DNA?

4 of cups, 10 of swords

Your advice is very clear, pile 2. The Akashic records are asking you to surrender to the divine. Which means to have faith. Please stop worrying. Stop being in your head so much. Look around, there's a once-in-blue-moon opportunity coming your way. Do not miss it. You're ignoring the signs of the divine. Some of you may or already be exhausted. You have been SO MUCH in your head. The only good thing here for you to know is that it's all in your head. I am so sorry I also feel that some of you really do feel trapped. You may have lost hope and wondering if there's even any path carved for you. Believe me, there is. I CAN SEE THAT. And it's honorable and beautiful. It's heartwarming. Whatever you have been going through may be very difficult but soon it will come to an end. All you need to do is turn one stone at a time and take it slow. You don't need to rush. You just need to move in the right direction with faith in your heart. You were not sent here only to suffer. There is purpose in pain and you are serving it. But it's still in your hands to show strength and come out of it.

Pile 3

Hello, my dear pile 3. The reading is divided into three parts. If you find this helpful then do come back and drop a tip in my jar. They are always appreciated!🍁

Your life path according to your Akashic record

8 of cups, 2 of swords

In your Akashic record, I see that there's a big hurdle on your life path. And that is related to something you do not want to see because you're so afraid of either commitment or detachment. What you need to know here is that this situation won't change until you make the move. I see that emotions are involved in certain situations. Though they break your heart you are trying to protect it by giving excuses for others. But I think these are the excuses you are giving yourself for not loving yourself enough. You have balanced things pretty well but still, something feels incomplete. I think it's about detachment. Yes, it is. You need to break a toxic cycle but unfortunately, you are not ready to accept it. Until you open your eyes to the truth you won't be able to see what's really going on in the background. You're blindly following someone or something. Blind faith is no better than having no faith. I feel that you have strong Cancer or Libra placements. God this has to do with relationships in your life. Hmm...I feel there's a pattern that you have been repeating only because you are refusing to open your eyes. You want to believe that the sun hasn't risen yet by keeping your eyes closed. But that doesn't change the fact. This repeating pattern in your life is a blockage in your life to finally widen your horizons. You need to claim your space in the society. That's your purpose. That's your life path. TAKE YOUR SPACE! AND DON'T BE SORRY ABOUT IT.

The path that you are currently on

10 of pentacles, 6 of swords

Ahhh, my dear pile 3. I feel you're not who others in your community, friend circle or family think you are. You are playing a role for them. You are just trying to fit in when you were born to stand out. You are afraid to express who you truly are. It seems that everything is balanced in your life but it isn't. The issue is not financial here. The issue has something to do with self-worth. Some of you may be asked to move out of your home or change cities. You may need to leave some loved ones behind which is breaking your heart into pieces. You can't give up on the change. I mean let it happen. You have become too dependent on your surroundings which is fading your shine. You may think that you are not dependent on them but you are because when the thought of letting go comes it breaks your heart. But here is a message for you, that your guiding angels and the people who truly love you will always be with you. Someone close to you may be moving with you too. If you suffer they suffer too. If you're happy they are happy too. When you take the leap of faith you will find yourself in a much more abundant state. It's your mind which can't foresee that you are moving towards happy days. Believe me, you're going to be so blessed if you just move out of your comfort zone and take the first step towards your success/happy days.

How can you align your path with your soul's DNA?

3 of pentacles, The Fool, 3 of wands

Okay, pile 3. I feel there is someone involved here. It may be a business partner or a life partner. I see that you two are working on something but there's some help you need to move on with your project. You can't do it alone. The good news is that you're not even alone. Someone is guiding you here. And I see travel for you guys. I would highly recommend you take the help or advice of a specialist and not a random friend or just anybody who has no idea about the subject. Because as soon as you take the guidance you will be able to move one step ahead in your planning and finally you'll be moving for work or something else with hope and a detailed plan. This will be the beginning of your life path. You are still writing your journey. Please take help from an expert and begin this journey guys. I see so much hope and optimism for you in the future. You are being guided and will be guided every step of the way. Just ask for it in your time of need. You can't look back and let yourself settle in the old environment. For you, the growth lies ahead. Your true path is just about to begin as soon as you let the change happen with the right guidance and confidence in yourself. The goal may be unconventional but it's yours. Claim it. Be in love with it.

Thank you everyone for reading this blog and also for reblogging!🥀🩷

[ninus9607]

Falling for her - Amelia Shepherd

Hey loves

This is my first story, so I'm pretty nervous also I'm sorry about my grammar, English isn't my first language

This story takes place during the second season but there are small changes, like Derek and Addison divorced before Derek came to Seattle so Addison won't be coming to Seattle for Derek because Richard asked her to (it will be important for the plot), lexie. The storyline in my story doesn't match Grey's one.

Amelia will work as an attending with Derek, also she's not the youngest shepherd and she is younger than Derek by only a few years. Derek and Meredith are not dating because of the rule (nobody cared about that but ok

______________________________________________________________

1. New start

There was a voice on the plane telling us to buckle up because we were landing, finally, I thought to myself. Flying more than 6000 km is exhausting. After the plane landed successfully, I put on my backpack and collected my baggage. When I got out of the airport, a cold wind greeted me, it's chilly here, I should take a taxi. There were many taxis on the other side of the road, I took my suitcase and slowly walked to the other side, there were about 5 taxis parked there, which one should I choose? Never mind, I chose the first one I stood by.

"Could you take me to Queen Anne at 303 Comstock Street?"

The taxi driver just nodded, is every American so grumpy? All the way there was silence in the car, but I didn't mind, I was looking out the window and admiring the world around me the whole time. I can't believe it, I'm truly here, Seattle was gorgeous, and there were people all over the place, which was a big difference from my home. When the car stopped on my street, the driver turned to me and in a cold voice said, "It would be $40." I pulled my wallet out of my pocket, full of US dollars, to make sure I had enough money. I must have grabbed a little more than I needed since I could barely close my wallet.

I handed him a $50 bill. "You can ke-" He didn't even let me finish and grabbed it from my hand, then pointed to the door. At that moment, I felt like hitting him. I grabbed my stuff, and as soon as I reached for the door, his car quickly started and sped off.

"Dick"

I looked around to see where I was, and after taking stock of my situation I realized I was lost, fuck, I should have seen what the house looked like before. I mean, what normal person wouldn't look at the house they're buying, yeah, I didn't look. I only have his address. So I'll try to ask someone. The street was quiet, with hardly any people to be seen outside. It was probably because everyone was still at work. However, a woman was walking on the sidewalk. She looked tired, but it seemed like she was my only option.

"Sorry to bother you, miss, but can you tell me where house number 302 is located?"

She looked at me with a surprised smile. "Oh, that's the house right next to mine. You must be my new neighbor. I'm Meredith Grey" She offered me her hand in greeting. Okay, it looks like Americans aren't so bad after all. I shook her hand. "Lena Anderson, nice to meet you" My accent was a bit stronger, I still have to get used to it.

"You're not from here, are you?" I shook my head "No, I just moved here." She looked at me with an even bigger smile. "Cool, come with me. I'll show you where you live."  And with that, she takes my hand. Are Americans always this friendly? We walked for a while and then stopped in front of a pretty big house. Wow, I think I made a good purchase.

"Thank you Meredith for helping me, you saved my life."

"It's okay, I'm glad I met you. Maybe we could hang out sometime, perhaps go to a bar or something?"

"Deal," I said and waved her off, picked up my keys, and opened my new home. Wow, this house is huge!  Large kitchen, beautiful living room, 3 bedrooms, and 2 bathrooms. This place is amazing! After unpacking and enjoying a warm shower, I settled into the beautifully modern living room, complete with a large TV and a PS5. Since I was a child, I have always enjoyed playing video games. I brought my PS5 here, and it provides great fun while helping me relax from reality. I prepared my favorite fruit tea and turned on the music on the TV. I grabbed my laptop and opened my email to check for any important updates. I was eagerly waiting for news about my job and had also applied for internship programs at hospitals in Seattle. My school grades are excellent, and I have valuable work experience back home in Europe. However, I understand that this may not guarantee anything.

I've got about 30 emails popping up, mostly some ads I should clean up, I started to slowly delete them one by one so I wouldn't accidentally delete something important. until I get an e-mail from Seattle Grace Hospital. I opened it and started reading.

 "You have been accepted into our residency program"

I screamed at the top of my lungs, I couldn't believe it, it's like a miracle, I love my life. In the email, there was additional information, such as salary, hours, and more. I am supposed to start in two days, so I might as well inform Meredith. She could at least assist me in getting oriented here. I changed into something more social, grabbed my keys, and went to see my neighbor.

knock, knock

After a while, some guy opened the door. "Oh, hi? Is Meredith there?" He was a little confused, but he called out to Meredith, who came to the door.

"Hey Meredith, sorry to bother you again, but as you said we could meet sometime. If you don't have plans for tonight, maybe we could hang out?"

"Hey, Len, I was just thinking about you, join us, I'll introduce you to my friends" She led me to her living room, where I saw two other people. They looked nice.

"Everybody, this is Lena, my new neighbor. Lena, these are my friends and roommates. George and Izzie"

"Hi"

"Hello"

"Nice to meet you all." I was a little nervous, but after two hours of talking and drinking, I felt like I had made new friends. Meredith and Izzie were great, funny and George was George. Such a nice guy. But I get the feeling he's secretly in love with Meredith, he looks at her like she's a god. It is very easy to make fun of him but in a good way.

"Where do you work? Your house is huge but it must have cost a lot." George asks me

"Well, actually I bought it before I had a job"

"WHAT? ARE YOU RICH?" Izzie and Meredith shouted at the same time

"Well kind of, but now I got a job in a hospital in their program an-"

"Are you a doctor? and in seattle grace?" George quickly cut me off

"Yeah? What's the problem??"

"We work there too! me, mer, izzie and our other friends like cristina and alex"

"So, Are we colleagues?"

"YES!" Everyone in the room screamed.

"Wow, that's really impressive. Is there a bar where we can celebrate?" I asked

"Let's meet at Joe's Bar tomorrow as we always do after work." Meredith said

"If you show me where it is, we can definitely..."

I stayed at Meredith's place for about an hour and then left to go home. I changed into comfortable pajamas, sat on my bed, and picked up the book. I decided on something a little more interesting: "Haunting Adeline." (😏) I was reading for about two hours before my eyes started to close, so I put the book down, turned off the light, and closed my eyes.

AN: Wow, that was my first chapter. I apologize for every mistake, but I'm trying yk...I'm happy for every response and comment also if you have any questions, just ask. I'd be happy to answer them.

PS: By the way, if you want to read more, you can check out my Wattpad or Ao3, where my story is already uploaded.

xx

[rachelsimbuild]

Billionaire - Olympus Mansion - The Sim 4

More pictures and information here: rachelsim.mysapo.net/billionaire-olympus-mansion-the-sim-4

💖 Map : Any map you want fit the size lots - Size : 64 x 64

💖 Pack to used : High School Years - Snowy Escape - Cats & Dogs - Get Together - Get To Work - Spa Day - Vampires - Luxury Party - Notdefined

💖 6 bedrooms - 2 large living rooms - 2 small living areas - 1 home cinema room - huge men's and women's dressing room with nautical style - open gym - spa with yoga outside - sauna - outdoor dining table - rooftop party area - 1 children's room - professional live stream room - small swimming pool area on the rooftop - glowing tree garden - outdoor bar area - outdoor movie viewing area - 1 pet room - 1 employee room - 1 laundry room - garage - reading room - empty shelves containing items collected in the game and more.....

💖 Inspired by the mythical Mount Olympus in Greek mythology, where the gods resided to create a real paradise for Sim, this truly fantastical home seems to have stepped out of a fairy tale. Nature blends seamlessly with the house, its elegant design exuding sophistication without sacrificing grace. The house also features a luminous garden that shines brightly at night, with rooms that seem almost heavenly. Come and admire this exquisite blend of Greek mythological beauty and sophistication with me.

🌟🌟🌟 Download here : https://ko-fi.com/s/9df37e8464

[carmillascrusade]

Shrouded affection finale | Emily Prentiss x f!reader

Summary: Good things don’t always last forever and Emily has a habit of self destructing.

Word count: 4,801

A/N: This is super late because my teachers hate me and keep assigning tests… and dialogue heavy maybe. Has anybody seen the new mean girls yet? I watched it on Sunday. @jellysaidshit @emilxprentiss @poorwritingandstalecoffee

The case was located in San Francisco. When Garcia had presented the case four women had been brutally murdered; each of their limbs broken and twisted in an inhumane way. Just looking at those poor women made you feel sick to your stomach.

How could someone do something like this? So evil. So deranged.

The case itself was long and gruelling. Restless nights made better due to you not having Emily to share your burdens with. You were currently getting ready for drinks at the bar with the team and the police department, a small but well needed celebration for cracking such a tough case.

You and Emily had both decided to just go in your work clothes. After all, you hadn’t packed for celebratory drinks.

Strobing lights obscured your vision as you pushed your way into the bar. Obnoxiously loud music blasted from speakers as you pushed your way through a sea of sweaty, half drunk bodies in hopes of finding your team. Emily’s hand was in yours as you guided her through the crowd, slightly shoving people out of the way in order to make enough room for you to squeeze past.

Emily had given you the rest of her gifts before you had left for the bar. The cool caress of the metal curled around your wrist a welcome reminder of Emily’s love for you. She had bought a gorgeous charm bracelet for you; each charm painstakingly hand crafted by a jeweller to represent significant moments shared between the two of you. You didn’t know how to react when you had opened it, instead you bursted into tears and hung onto Emily for dear life.

She was so thoughtful. So eager to show her love for you.

So perfect.

You couldn’t help but imagine a future with her and what that would entail. The familiar laughing of your teammates notified you of their whereabouts. Penelope’s incoherent spiels drowned out any other conversation in the immediate area, like a fog horn would any other siren. Her bubbly nature despite what you faced regularly would never fail to amaze you. You admired her, truly, for she continued to shine in a world full of darkness; undimmed by the many people wielding instruments meant to snuff her very light.

Emily chuckled beside you, ever amused at Penelope’s antics. The small collection of empty glasses reminded you or Emily’s numerous half full water bottles strewn around the side of her bed. She had told you that they were there for when she got thirsty throughout the night but they never seemed to decrease in number.

It had made you giggle when you had first saw them, Emily’s antics never failing to surprise you. Her quirks made her the person she is and you wouldn’t have it any other way; even if it meant that you were subject to her playing with your hair as she tried to stay awake.

Penelope’s ramblings came to a halt as she seen you approach with Emily trailing behind. A loud squeal pierced the air, causing multiple heads to turn to the direction it came from, searching for the source in mere curiosity. The source being Penelope.

“Hi! I’m so glad you’re here.” She slurred out at you, the consonants in her words drawled out ever so slightly.

“Hi, Penelope.” You greeted cheerily, dropping Emily’s hand in favour of supporting your conversation partner as she began to sway.

Just as you managed to get her back into her seat, the sheriff approached you, sheepishly asking you for a dance. Looking over her shoulder for Emily in the hopes of getting away from an unwanted dance, you were surprised to see her already dancing with someone else.

A beautiful woman at that. The blond woman was whispering in Emily’s ear, something salacious you assumed based on Emily’s vibrant blush and embarrassed chuckle. Your world seemed to slow down as you only seemed to be able to focus on them, heart stuttering in your chest, stomach dropping.

You felt sick. Clearly your little tryst had been just that and nothing more. Once cool metal, a gentle reminder of Emily’s affection for you, burned your skin. You wanted it off. You wanted to leave and never show your face again.

A gentle hand on your arm was the final straw. The tears you had so desperately been holding back finally broke free, pouring out of your tear ducts as water would a burst dam. Your heart was aching, throbbing in anguish, relentlessly beating against your ribcage in an effort to escape the damage associated with heart break.

“Are you okay?” A distant voice called out. Muffled and far away, as a voice would sound if speaking to you through a barrier of water.

Glossy eyes flicked up and met the piercing blue gaze of the sheriff, flooded with concern at your current state. Your response, if you could call it that, came out in a jumble of words. Your eyes flicked back to Emily and the blond to see the woman leading your lover away. No. Emily wasn’t yours.

Seemingly following your pitiful gaze, Sheriff Lister pieced the information together.

“How about we go outside. Get some air, hmm?” She was speaking to you as you would an injured child, gentle and nurturing.

You gripped onto her arm as she led you outside. The tears clouding your vision made leaving the bar far more difficult than it would have been under normal circumstances. Sweet whispers from Lister were occasionally granted to you, grounding you to the present, keeping you out of your head and focussed on the task at hand. Leaving the building.

The night air was cold, borrowing body heat as a neighbour would a cup of sugar. Frost covered the window panes of nearby shops, frigid and distance in the think cover of night. You focussed on your breaths rising as white puffed clouds, willing yourself to calm down.

You knew that Emily had commitment issues You knew that she was unlikely to return your affections. Yet you still pined after her anyways.

A fool.

The telltale click of a lighter sparking to life alerted you once more of the sheriff stood beside you. Her eyes were on you, hawklike in nature as she studied you from underneath her lashes.

“So,” she drawled out the word. “You and your dark haired coworker?”

You nodded feebly, the cold catching up to you now that you had calmed down, subconsciously causing you to draw your body closer to Lister’s. Ever perceptive, she noticed your state and offered you her coat.

“Won’t you be cold?” You asked, not wanting her to freeze because of you.

“I’ll be alright, darling.”

She cheekily grinned at you; the type of grin that would be charming if you weren’t recently subject to such heartache, the type of grin that sent girls like you reeling. You muttered a small thank you. For her jacket or for the kindness she was showing you, you weren’t sure.

“How about we go get some food, hmm? I’m sure some takeout place will still be open.”

Your stomach growling was answer enough.

Emily watched the interaction between you and that sheriff from across the street. Her stomach twisted uncomfortable as she watched her dry your tears, as she watched you wear her jacket and link arms with her. You should have been linking arms with Emily, not some random woman.

But, she couldn’t really blame you for seeking comfort elsewhere. After all, she had been the one to fall back into old habits. She had been the one flirting with another woman, with the full intention of destroying the very new, the very fragile relationship the two of you shared.

Emily Prentiss did not deserve nice things. She didn’t deserve you and your lovely smiles. She didn’t deserve your affection; especially after the stunt she pulled today.

Everything had happened so fast. One moment she was holding your hand, marvelling in your beauty and the next she was leaving the bar with a woman. A woman that wasn’t you.

She had seen you spot her with the blond, had seen your face fall and the tears you had not been able to hold back. And still, she followed the woman all the way until her hotel room.

It wasn’t until she got there that she had realised her mistake. The lips pressing against her were rough and sloppy. Inconsiderate of her feelings. All they sought was pleasure and a fast release.

She had pulled away then, leaving the hotel room with a flimsy excuse thrown over her soldier. What had she done? She yearned for your lips to be the ones on her, for your hands to be the ones touching her. She wanted your soft smiles and saccharine sweet kisses.

She needed them.

But, her self destructive tendencies had won again and she had lost the one thing in her life she wanted the most. You.

You who had to seek comfort in the arms of another woman because she had been the one to deal you pain. You who had been nothing but patient and caring towards her, never pushing her away when you had every right to do so. You who shone brighter then the sun and stars combined, brightening her once dark world until she could no longer feel the deathly grip of her past.

Emily didn’t deserve you. You were too good. Too pure to be corrupted by the likes of her. Yet you had always stayed.

Emily Prentiss had pushed away the only thing she held dear and she was the only person to blame. Her heart seemed to fracture with every step you took away from her, shattering completely as she heard your laugh- the one reserved for her alone- directed at somebody else.

But, she reasoned with herself, she deserved this.

Lister, or Kate as you had quickly learned, had taken you to get pizza, buying a large for the two of you to share. The two of you were currently sat on a park bench, with you giggling at Kate dropping pizza on her shirt and Kate furiously trying to get the stain off.

“You know, rubbing it super hard isn’t going to make the grease stain go away.” You teased before taking another bite of your pizza slice.

Kate narrowed her eyes at you in faux anger. Her rubbing soon stopped as she decided, finally, that it wasn’t doing any help.

“So, you gonna tell me what’s going on between you and what’s she called?”

“Emily?” You supplied.

“Yeah, her.”

“It’s a long story.” You sighed wearily.

“Ehh, I’ve got the time to spare.” She shrugged as she said it before resting her hand on your knee. “But don’t feel pressured into sharing if you don’t want to.”

You smiled at her, sneakily taking the last slice of pizza out of the box while she was distracted.

“ I’m in love with her.”

She laughed at that. “Yeah, anyone with a pair of eyes can see that, sweetheart.”

She received a soft slap to the side in response but you carried on with the story. It seemed that once you started, you couldn’t stop. Everything you had been holding in, keeping secret from your friends, tumbled out of your mouth.

You were crying again. The events of the day being so emotionally overwhelming that you couldn’t help yourself. Kate tutted in sympathy as she drew you into a hug.

“You didn’t deserve any of that.” She assured.

“I know. I know that, I truly do but I can’t help but feel like part of me deserves it.”

“How come?”

“Well, look at her. Emily is amazing. So amazing that she outshines everybody in the room despite just standing there.”

“Hey, you’re not too bad yourself, y’know.” She joked, trying to lighten the sullen and serious atmosphere that had built up.

“I guess.”

Your somber mood was only heightened by the cold chill beginning to set in your bones. Kate walked you back to your hotel room and you thanked her for the night. However, you knew it was getting late and you didn’t want her walking home alone, especially after the gruelling case you had just finished, so you asked if she wanted to stay.

It was the least you could do.

Surprise briefly coloured the faces of your team members before they schooled their features into a more neutral expression. What were you doing with the sheriff?

Emily was seething from where she stood beside JJ. Not only had to went on a late night rendezvous, but you had invited that woman back to your room and she was still here. Laughing and touching your knee without a care in the world.

That was Emily’s job. She was supposed to touch you and make you laugh. You were supposed to look at her like that, not the sheriff.

“What’s going on with those two?” JJ asked, nudging Emily with her elbow.

“I don’t know.” She spat back.

“You know,” she started carefully, not wanting to irritate her friend any further. “I saw you and that blond last night.”

She had said it as a statement rather than an accusation, but the way her eyes narrowed slightly and her gaze pierced through Emily’s suggested otherwise.

“Yeah, what about it?” Emily was getting defensive.

“Well, I don’t think you have the right to be jealous when you were all over that woman last night. We all saw you together.”

Emily huffed in aggravation because she truly had no right to be jealous, but she was. She had shot herself in the foot with her rash decisions last night and it stung. It stung so much that she couldn’t even look in your direction; fearful of your disappointed eyes or, even worse, you looking at another woman the way you once did her.

“They’re all staring you know?” Kate observed with a slight gesture towards your team.

You turned your head to look over at your team, their faces unreadable as they looked at you. Emily, however, was the only one refusing to look in your direction, instead biting her nails. You had always hated that habit of hers, how it brought her so much pain but seemed to be the only thing that soothed her.

The only thing but you.

She wouldn’t even look at you? Your sadness soon turned into anger, however, as you realised that you did not deserve to be strung along like you had been. If she didn’t want to look at you, fine, you wouldn’t bother with her either.

JJ started walking toward you, her curiosity getting the best of her as she drew closer to you and Kate. Did you not have feelings for Emily?

“Hey,”

“Hi Jayje,” you greeted her with a smile.

“Who’s your friend?”

“You know… Kate?” You shot her a questioning look. “We’ve worked with her and her officers the entire case.”

“Well yeah, I know that she’s Sheriff Lister but..”

“What’s she doing here?” You supplied.

JJ nodded, albeit a bit shamefully. Her cheeks and neck tinting red made you smile slightly. You wondered briefly if she had came on behalf of Emily, they were best friends after all, but Emily didn’t care about you.

“Kate took me to get pizza last night and by the time we came back it was too late for her to walk home alone.”

“Oh…” she trailed off before looking back at Emily who was staring off into space. “like a date?”

You and Kate both burst out in to laughter, stomachs tensing almost uncomfortably as you leaned on one another for support. JJ stared at you perplexed. Why were you laughing at her?

“If you’re just going to laugh at me,” she muttered, brows furrowed and lips downturned. “I’ll just go.”

You quickly composed yourself at her upset tone and reached out for her. “JJ, no don’t go. I’m sorry for laughing. It’s just, Kate and I are friends that’s all, I was pretty upset last night and she helped me. That’s all.”

“Upset? What? Why didn’t you tell any of us you were upset?” She questioned. Weren’t you friends?

“Perhaps you should ask your best friend why I was upset.”

Kate and you had shared numbers before parting with each other as neither of you wished to lose the friendship you had quickly formed. The flight back to Quantico was silent, a tense silence at that. None of that mattered now though as you finally back in the comforts of your own home. Your bed a necessary comfort after the tough week you had, it welcomed you as a lover would, warm and comforting.

Sleep evaded your grasp for the majority of the night causing optic to toss and turn in discomfort. What you were not expecting, especially at 4 a.m, was the abrupt knock at your door. You weren’t expecting visitors. Another three knocks rapped against your door. Your heart rate picked up and you reached for the gun in your bedside table before slipping out of the duvet.

It was better to be safe than sorry.

You barely registered the rain beating against the panes of your windows or the wind whistling a familiar tune. Instead you were focussed on the doorframe that loomed in the dimness of your foyer, daring you to get closer to it. Challenging you to a battle of wills.

You weren’t sure who you expected to be behind the door. Perhaps a rage filled criminal looking for vengeance or a renowned serial killer looking to make a reappearance. What, or should you say who, you weren’t expecting to be stood on the other side of the door was Emily.

…

Emily?

You went to slam the door shut, on,y to be stopped by the toe of a doc marten wedged between your dorm and its frame. How dare she knock on your door at this god awful hour. How dare she stop you from closing it. You did not owe her anything and you certainly would not entertain whatever pitiful display this was.

Furiously flinging the door back open, unconcerned with the bang it made against the wall, you jabbed your finger into her chest, effectively shoving her out of the doorway and back into the hallway. “What on earth are you doing here?” You hissed.

“Please,” she begged, eyes downcast shamefully. “please hear me out.”

“No. I don’t think I will.”

A sudden move almost toppled you over. Emily was on her knees, clinging you like her life depended on it, head nestled against your legs.

“Please!” She cried. “Please, please, please…”

Her sobs were muffled by your pyjama bottoms. You were in a state of shock. First of all, what was she doing here? Second of all, what had made her so upset that she was here, in front of you, down on her knees. Her shoulders were shaking alongside her sobs and you couldn’t help but feel slightly sorry for her.

After all, feelings don’t just disintegrate over night and, as ashamed as you were to admit it, you are still in love with her.

You unintentionally let out a frustrated sigh, which seemed to make Emily even more upset. You weren’t really sure how to deal with the situation you had so carelessly been thrown into, so against your better judgement you pulled Emily inside. She wasn’t making it easy though. It is very difficult to move with an adult holding onto your legs.

“Emily!” You admonished. “I cannot move with you clinging on to me as you are!”

Her form shrunk at your tone and you realised that you needed to go about this a different way.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you.” You whispered gently, free hand reaching out the toy with her hair. “Please, can you let go of me so we can go inside? I’m not going anywhere.”

That seemed to get her attention as her head raised to look at you. Your heart shattered at the broken ‘promise?’ she whispered. How could someone make you feel everything and nothing all at once? Emily Prentiss was an enigma. Five minutes ago you were so certain that you hated her. But now? Now, you weren’t sure of how you felt. You weren’t really sure of anything.

It was difficult but you had managed to get her settled on the couch before placing your gun down. She was lied down with your blanket draped over her slumped form. Her tears had subsided for the time being, not that you could see much of her face with your small salt lamp being the only source of illumination.

You were in the kitchen making hot chocolate for the both of you. You had a feeling that it would be a long night. A long, emotional night. Emily’s cup was almost overflowing with the generous amount of marshmallows and whipped cream you had applied to the top of her drink. Yours was less severe.

Plopping down next to her on the couch, careful not to spill the drinks, you handed hers over. You were grateful for the lack of light as it allowed you to study her face without consequence. She was staring at your fireplace, eyes lingering on the framed photo of you and her on the mantle piece, seemingly lost in thought.

Your apartment groaned in discomfort due to the oncoming assault from the storm outside. Emily’s coat had been hung to dry as you ushered her in, thankfully your legs hadn’t gotten wet. The air was chilly from the wind seeping through the cracks of your windows. Emily was currently covered with the only blanket in the living room. If only you weren’t so considerate.

Your subtle shivers seemed to rouse Emily from whatever daydream she had found herself in.

“We can share the blanket if you want.” Her voice was so quiet that you barely heard it over the storm. She lifted her arm, allowing you to get under the blanket but you declined.

You couldn’t stand being that close to her. Not now. Not after that night.

“I’m alright.” You hadn’t mean to sound so cold.

Emily deflated at your disinterest in being close to her and you were starting to get antsy. Your fingers drummed against your leg in short, consecutive movements- a self soothing gesture you find yourself doing during times of high stress.

“Why are you here?” Blurted out of your mouth before you could stop it. It may have been blunt but you want, no need, answers.

“I wanted to talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about.” You scoffed.

“Please,” she begged, reaching out for your hands. Silently grateful that you didn’t pull away when she put her hands in yours.

“Make it quick.”

“What is she to you?” She asked, sliding onto her knees so she could sit in front of you.

You laughed. Full belly laughed in her face at the audacity she had to ask you that question. “Excuse me? You do not get to ask me that. Not after you had your tongue down another woman’s throat.”

You were beyond angry. How dare she ruin what you have and then come to your apartment in the middle of the night begging to talk. Snatching your hands out of hers, you pushed her away from you and moved through the dark halls of your apartment, wanting nothing more than the comfort of your bed and Emily gone.

“You can leave now, Emily.”

She scrambled up from the ground and ran after you. You wanted to cry as you heard the her crash into your furniture. Not only did she have to break your heart but she had to break your furniture too. One minute you were in your bed alone and the next Emily was on top of you. Clutching onto your shirt, head hurried in your neck as she started crying again.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“We were never together.” You couldn’t help but want to be mean back but there was also a question on the tip of your tongue, itching to be released. “Why’d you do it, Emily? Why’d you go home with her.”

“I didn’t!” Her voice rose exponentially before she controlled her outburst and lowered her tone. “Well, I did but we didn’t do anything. I promise! You have to believe me. She wasn’t you.”

“Why did you do it?” You repeated.

“I was scared. Everything I had ever wanted had finally fallen into my hands and I didn’t know what to do with it. You’re so perfect and I knew that I didn’t, no I don’t, deserve you. I’m sorry.” Her words were kind of officiating to hear through her stutters but you could make them out.

“Sorry isn’t good enough.” You were being petty and you knew it but you wanted her to feel the same gut wrenching feeling that you had. Attempting to sit up, you pushed her off slightly, only for her to clutch onto you even harder. “Perhaps you should go find another woman to entertain yourself with. I’m not sure if a relationship with you is worth pursuing.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

“I can’t trust you, Emily. How do I know you’re not going to run off into another woman’s arms as soon as things get tough?”

“Please, I’ve realised my mistake. You know I’ll never do anything if the sort ever again.”

“I don’t.” You whispered, heart feeling like it was been torn from your chest with every word you spoke.

Your eyes refused to meet hers and she couldn’t stand it. She reached up and cupped your face with both of your hands, gently turning your head so that you would be looking into her eyes. You were shutting her out but she needed you to listen. She needed you to know how much you meant to her.

“You don’t know how much you mean to me. I would defy the laws of the universe if it meant, however selfish that may be, that I got to spend eternity with you. One lifetime is not enough. I will always crave, no need; I will always need that moment more, that second longer, because I am utterly and hopelessly devoted to you.”

“Oh, please.” You scoff. “You were all over her!”

“And you weren’t all over that sheriff?!”

“Kate,” you fumed, jabbing her in the chest with your pouter finger. “Was there for me because you made me cry. You do not get to bring her into this argument when she’s been nothing but kind to me.”

The reminder of the misfortune she had caused you made her look like a wounded puppy, ashamed and guilt ridden. “I love you.” Her confession was accompanied with tear filled eyes and a wobbly voice.

“I’m not sure you do.” You felt as if the world had stopped as you muttered the words. Was this the end for you and Emily? Had your relationship stopped before it truly started?

“Don’t you love me?” She cried, desperate to hear you say it, just once.

“I do.”

“Then why are you pushing me away?!”

“ I don’t want you to hurt me again.” You confessed.

“I won’t.” Was repeated over and over. Soft promised whispered into your ear and lips as you finally accepted her embrace.

Chapped lips met yours, moving against you so softly and slowly as if they were afraid you would bolt away at any sudden movement. Two tear stained faces met each other in the middle, seeking out the comfort only achievable from being close to the other person. Tentative smiles played on your lips as you briefly pulled away, reflecting a mixture of relief and apprehension.

Emily’s hand found the back of your head ands yours the small of her back, the gestures being both reassuring and vulnerable at the same time. Your eyes locked with hers as you both silently acknowledged the mistake she made and, Jody importantly, the lesson she had learned from it.

Your heart felt like it was about to leap into the unknown. The air between you was charged with the whispers of forgiveness and the feeling of heartache beginning to lift. Your touch became Emily’s lifeline, grounding her to the present. You were here and you weren’t leaving.

As your lips met once more, you knew that you and Emily would share a future; one tinged with the promise of redemption and no more heartbreak. The kiss mended broken threads and bridged the gaps that had seemed to have been too vast to fill.

Yes. The two of you were going to be okay.

Chapter one, chapter two, chapter three

[missredherring]

In the Flesh

The Penis Collector, Santos x Ted Garcia

Rating: M

Word Count: 630

Contents: M/M, anonymous sex. Use of a glory hole. m!oral. cum eating.

Summary: A glory hole in a dive bar at the edge of town truly is a liminal space, and this particular half hard cock straining through the side of a bathroom stall is all the proof he needs of that fact. 

A/N: Idk, first time writing m/m. This was fun, trying to incorporate the psychedelic vibes from the movie. Quickly written before I have to run off to work. Any mistakes are mine.

It’s not hard to fall to his knees for this one. 

Santos thought he was seeing things. The furtive whispers, descriptions delivered from the sides of mouths on heads half turned away, of late night parties fueled by drugs and desire, finally driving him to madness after too many late nights admiring the collection.

His favorite is here, right in front of his face, in the flesh. He’d recognize that bulbous head with the sweetest up turned corona anywhere.

It’s The Mayor. 

Pleasantly plump, it has a nice familiar thickness to curl his hand around. The dildo is forever stuck in an erect state, so the foreskin protecting the ruddy head peaking out is a delightful discovery.

He can smell it: musky with just a hint of sweat. It had been hot today, and he imagines there’s excitement in the mix. The lure of the forbidden, the risk of getting caught.

A glory hole in a dive bar at the edge of town truly is a liminal space, and this particular half hard cock straining through the side of a bathroom stall is all the proof he needs of that fact. 

He inches his knees apart to lower himself and get a better angle and studiously ignores the leather boots he knocks into and the way they shuffle in return. There’s a grunt from the other side when Santos finally takes the cock in hand. The other person doesn’t matter. There’s only him and this hot, heavy cock he’s been dreaming about in this stall. The faint throb of blood rushing through it is a reminder that this is flesh and blood instead of the cool silicone he's gotten to know so well.

He can’t hold back anymore and gives one, two, three long licks, the saliva that’s been pooling in his mouth spilling out at the first chance. 

The taste is indescribable, and he can only think about getting another sample, to parse out the notes on his tongue. It takes no time to get the cock hard and leaking, to add another flavor element to the feast before him. 

Santos takes it in his mouth completely, only stopping when his nose bumps against cold metal, and exhales, making the pubic hair poking through rustle with the force. 

This close, with the head deep at the back of his mouth, Santos remembers the sack that hangs as a beautiful accent for the shaft, safely cradled by foam and protected in the metal case in his room and his hand comes up of it’s own violation to cup them, because the fantasy can’t be complete without a good fondle. It’s a sin to neglect such shining jewels, but once again he’s foiled by the stall and his hand falls back to his lap. 

The disappointment is momentary as the cock starts to pull back, maybe annoyed with Santos’ distraction. He braces and sucks as the cock moves back and forth, aborted little thrusts that send vibrations between through the taunting barrier between them. 

He falls into a trace of give and take. Letting the cock set the pace and take his mouth, resting for a moment here and there to pulse and tap out a morse code of praise on his tongue.

It’s a spiral of heady desire that twists him up more and more until there’s a louder grunt and his mouth is filling with salty, faintly bitter cum, rounding out the flavor profile. He swallows and can’t help the sound of protest that he makes when the cock slips back through the hole, tucked away and once again out of his reach. The boots turn away and leave him kneeling on the bathroom floor. 

It was a dream come true, but all dreams come to an end.

[livdomtruther]

THE NIGHT WE MET.

If you want the full experience listen to this song:

-

The crowd buzzed with anticipation, a restless energy rippling through the sea of fans packed into the venue. Most were here for one reason, one person, the name on everyone’s lips. The electric hum of chatter abruptly gave way to an explosion of cheers and deafening screams as Dominik Mysterio stepped onto the stage.

His mullet, a signature look cherished by the fans, was immaculately styled, its smooth layers catching the light as he moved. He wore a tailored suit that accentuated his sharp, confident demeanor, but it was his eyes that truly drew the crowd in—a mixture of intensity and something far more complex simmering beneath the surface.

With a calm poise, he stepped up to the microphone, his presence commanding the room without a word. A soft smile tugged at his lips, and he lifted a hand in a gentle wave to the adoring crowd. The response was immediate, a crescendo of screams and applause washing over him like a tidal wave. He felt their admiration, their unconditional support, and for a moment, allowed himself to bask in it. Yet, despite the love surrounding him, a shadow lingered within—a bitterness and emptiness he couldn’t quite shake. It flickered behind his eyes, a quiet ache hidden beneath the façade of his confident smile.

His fingers curled tightly around the microphone, a subtle tremor betraying the weight of the moment. "Thank you all for coming tonight," Dominik spoke, his voice quiet but deliberate, every word carrying a raw sincerity. The crowd erupted, their screams echoing off the walls, but his soft smile was fleeting, his gaze cast downward as if searching for the right words in the floor beneath him.

"Tonight," he continued, his tone tinged with vulnerability, "I will be performing an unreleased song... one I’ve been working on recently. It means a lot to me." The screams intensified, the fans vibrating with unrestrained excitement. He hesitated for a heartbeat, exhaling slowly before revealing the title. "It’s called The Night We Met."

A hush fell over the crowd, the gravity of the moment silencing even the loudest voices. They would be the first to hear it, the first to feel it. The lights dimmed, and soon, a hauntingly unfamiliar melody filled the space, a stark departure from his usual sound. The music was stripped-down, raw, each note heavy with unspoken emotion. He leaned closer to the microphone, humming softly, the sound resonating deep within the audience like a shared heartbeat.

"I am not the only traveler," he breathed, his voice carrying a fragile, aching beauty, "who has repaid his debt." Each word seemed to spill from a place buried deep within him, and the crowd could feel it—feel him. "I've been searching for a trail to follow again," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, as if each lyric cost him a piece of himself.

"Take me back to the night we met," he sang, the words almost breaking as they left his lips. The crowd felt it—a collective clench of their hearts as his voice, heavy with longing and regret, pierced through them like a knife. Each note carried an unbearable weight, a story of love, loss, and the endless yearning for what could never be reclaimed.

♡-----------FLASHBACK------------♡

The bar smelled of stale beer and aged wood, a faint haze of cigarette smoke clinging to the dim light that filtered through the grimy windows. Dominik sat on the small makeshift stage, strumming his beat-up guitar—its scratches and dents a testament to countless nights like this one. The notes he played echoed through the room, a melodic balm to the handful of patrons slumped over their drinks. This wasn’t a glamorous place, but in the quiet town he called home, it was one of the few escapes he had.

He was a regular here, a familiar figure in the corner of the room where he sang songs that nobody seemed to listen to—except the bartender, who occasionally nodded along. The guitar under his fingers desperately needed repair, its worn strings threatening to snap at any moment, but it didn’t matter. This was his solace, his stage, his space.

The creak of the door opening barely registered at first. People came and went. But then he glanced up—and his fingers faltered, striking the wrong chord with an audible twang that made his cheeks flush. She stepped into the bar like a ray of light breaking through a stormy sky. She was petite, with straight, golden blonde hair that fell gracefully past her shoulders, accented by soft bangs that framed her face. Her eyes were an enchanting shade of blue, so clear and vivid they seemed to reflect the world around her. She scanned the room briefly before her gaze settled on him.

Dominik froze, his hands hovering over the strings of his guitar. She had caught him staring. His heart stumbled in his chest as her lips curved into the warmest smile he’d ever seen. It wasn’t just the smile—it was the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, forming little crescents, and the way the subtle roundness of her cheeks seemed to make the world softer, gentler. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, caught between the desire to look away and the need to keep her in his sight just a moment longer.

She lingered by the bar, her gaze never leaving him. He forced himself to return to the song, but the nerves in his chest made his voice unsteady, the lyrics spilling out like broken glass. Somehow, he finished, and the sparse applause of the patrons barely registered in his ears. All he could focus on was her—the way she watched him with curiosity and something else he couldn’t quite place. He stepped off the stage, clutching his guitar as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality. Their eyes met again, and for a moment, the noise of the bar seemed to fade into silence.

"You were amazing!" she said, her voice as warm as her smile.

Dominik stared at her, his mouth opening to respond but no words coming out. His palms were sweaty, his heart pounding as if he’d just run miles. Finally, he managed to stammer a quiet, “Th-thank you,” his voice barely audible over the beating of his own pulse. She smiled again, standing there in the golden light of the bar, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe he wasn’t invisible after all.

♡----------- END OF FLASHBACK------------♡

Dominik let his eyes flutter closed, his voice trembling as he continued to sing. Each word spilled from his lips with the weight of memories pressing heavily on his chest. "And then I can tell myself," he sang softly, the ache in his heart growing sharper with every syllable. "What the hell I’m supposed to do." His voice wavered, his lips quivering as the pain swirled within him like a storm he couldn’t contain. "And then I can tell myself…" His breath hitched, a slight crack in his voice betraying his restraint. "Not to ride along with you."

The music faded into the background as the memory overtook him, vivid and relentless, pulling him back to the beginning.

♡-----------FLASHBACK------------♡

After fumbling over his words, his cheeks burning with embarrassment, she had laughed—not a mocking laugh, but one so sweet and genuine it melted the tension. “I’m Liv,” she had introduced herself, her voice light and melodic, carrying a faint accent that made his heart flutter. It suited her perfectly, that tiny lilt in her words, a charm that only deepened his admiration. They had exchanged numbers that very night, her enthusiasm infectious as she assured him she’d come back to see him perform again.

And she did. Again and again. Liv became his most loyal supporter, her cheers the loudest in the room, her presence a beacon he always sought out from the stage. They began texting constantly, sharing pieces of themselves through glowing phone screens late into the night. Soon, their connection grew beyond the bar—coffee shop meetings, late-night drives, stolen moments that seemed to stretch into eternity. She had this way of making him feel seen, her laughter a balm to the cracks in his confidence.

From the very first moment, Dominik knew. His heart wasn’t his own anymore; it belonged to her. But that knowledge terrified him. He was too afraid—of rejection, of ruining what they already had, of the vulnerability love demanded. So, he buried it. He dug a deep hole in his heart, shoved those feelings down, and covered them with every excuse he could muster. She deserved the world, and he convinced himself he wasn’t worthy of giving it to her. But no matter how hard he tried to hide his yearning, it always clawed its way back to the surface every time her bright blue eyes met his, every time her smile lit up the room.

♡----------- END OF FLASHBACK------------♡

Dominik's voice trembled as he carried on, the weight of his emotions pressing against his chest like a vice. Each word was a dagger, slicing into the raw, vulnerable parts of him he tried so hard to protect. "I had all and then most of you," he sang, his voice low and heavy with grief, the ache in his heart swelling to an unbearable degree.

The memory overtook him suddenly, dragging him back to a moment that felt like it belonged to someone else—someone happier, someone whole.

♡-----------FLASHBACK------------♡

It had been her idea, of course. Liv was always the bolder one between them, always pulling him out of his shell and into the light. They sat together under a sprawling oak tree at the edge of a small park, the world around them hushed in reverence for the beauty of the moment. The stars above burned brightly, scattered like tiny, defiant flames across an inky sky. Their soft glow illuminated her face as she sat cross-legged in front of him, her hands resting on her knees, her eyes fixed on him like he was the only thing that mattered in the universe.

Dominik had been playing his guitar for her, his fingers strumming a melody he’d poured his soul into. The song was hers—it had always been hers—even if he had never dared to say it out loud. His voice was unsteady as he sang, his eyes tightly closed, as if shielding himself from the vulnerability of the moment. Every word he sang felt like it was being ripped straight from his chest, a confession he wasn’t brave enough to voice without the safety of music. The tension in the air was palpable, his nerves and emotions coiling together like a knot that refused to loosen.

And then she kissed him.

Her lips were soft and warm, brushing against his with a gentleness that held an ocean’s worth of emotion. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was steady, meaningful, and filled with everything he’d ever wanted to say but never could. For a heartbeat, the world stopped spinning. The stars above seemed to dim in comparison to the brightness of her presence, and all he could feel was her. Her hands cupping his face, her breath mingling with his, her heart pounding in sync with his own.

When she pulled away, she was smiling—a soft, shy giggle spilling from her lips that made his chest ache in the most beautiful way. His fingers hovered over his lips, his eyes wide in disbelief, the ghost of her kiss still lingering on his skin.

"Oh my…” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingertips brushed against his lips as if to confirm that it had been real, that it wasn’t some cruel trick of his imagination.

And then, before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out: "I like you."

Her laughter bubbled up again, a sound so full of joy it made his stomach flip. Before he could spiral into overthinking, she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Her voice was soft but certain when she replied, *"I like you too, silly."

In that moment, under the canopy of stars, with her arms wrapped around him and the taste of her kiss still fresh on his lips, Dominik felt something he’d never felt before—unfiltered, unrestrained happiness. He wanted to freeze time, to live in that perfect, fleeting moment forever.

♡----------- END OF FLASHBACK------------♡

But life wasn’t kind enough to grant him that wish.

Dominik’s voice cracked as he returned to the present, the words of the song spilling from him like a wound reopened. "Some and now none of you," he sang, his tone barely holding together as his emotions threatened to consume him. His hand tightened around the microphone, his knuckles white as the memory clawed at his mind.

"Take me back to the night we met," he whispered, the lyrics carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken regrets. His heart clenched painfully, as if it was trying to remind him of everything he’d lost, of everything he’d failed to hold onto.

The stage lights cast a harsh glow over him, but all he could see in his mind’s eye was her—Liv, with her bright blue eyes and radiant smile. He wanted to reach for that memory, to pull it close and wrap himself in its warmth, but it slipped further away with each passing second, leaving only the cold, bitter ache of reality in its wake.

♡-----------FLASHBACK------------♡

The room was suffocatingly still, the kind of quiet that pressed down on Dominik’s chest and made it hard to breathe. The air between him and Liv crackled with unspoken words and buried emotions, neither of them willing to look the other in the eye for too long. The small apartment they had moved into just months earlier, meant to be a haven, now felt like a cage closing in around them. Boxes still sat unpacked in corners, the remnants of their fresh start mocking the tension that had overtaken them.

They had been together for three years. Three years of shared dreams, whispered promises, and love that had felt unshakable. Liv had been his anchor, his biggest supporter, always cheering him on even when the world seemed indifferent. She worked tirelessly at her own goals, juggling them with endless encouragement for his aspirations. She had believed in him when no one else did, standing by his side as he clawed his way toward the future he’d always dreamed of. And now, after years of struggle, it was happening—a record label, a real one, with promises of fame, success, and everything he’d ever wanted.

Liv had been thrilled when he told her the news. Her face had lit up with pure joy, her laughter filling the space as she hugged him tightly and peppered his face with kisses. “I’m so proud of you, Dom!” she’d exclaimed, her excitement genuine and infectious. But that radiant joy had evaporated the moment he hesitantly revealed the truth.

"But… they said we can’t be together, Liv."

The words hung in the air, cold and unrelenting. Dominik swallowed nervously, his hands fidgeting as he glanced at her. Her expression shifted, the light in her eyes dimming as her brows furrowed, and for the first time, he couldn’t read her. He wished she’d yell at him, scream, cry—anything to break the unbearable silence stretching between them.

"They said if I get caught in a dating scandal at the start of my career, it’d be over for me immediately." His voice wavered, betraying the guilt gnawing at him. He looked down at his hands, his fingers twisting together as if trying to occupy themselves with something other than the crushing weight of what he was saying.

Liv didn’t respond right away. She sat there, her blonde hair falling like a curtain around her face, her blue eyes unfocused as she stared at the floor. Her thoughts swirled, chaotic and overwhelming, drowning out any coherent response she might have given. The lump in her throat tightened, choking her words before she could get them out. Her chest ached, her mind screaming at her to fight, to demand something, anything, that would keep them together. But all she could manage was a shaky, broken sentence.

"There’s no chance we can even… secretly date?" Her voice cracked as she asked the question, her desperation laid bare.

Dominik shook his head, the motion slow and deliberate, as if it physically hurt to say the words. “They’ll find out,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. He glanced at her then, and the sight of her shattered him. She wasn’t crying, but the anguish in her expression was worse than any tears. Her lips trembled, her hands gripping the edge of the table as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded.

She nodded slowly, the movement so small it was almost imperceptible. Her silence felt deafening. Liv had always been gentle, always chosen understanding over confrontation, but in that moment, it was her quiet acceptance that gutted him. She wasn’t arguing, wasn’t fighting him on it—and that only made it worse. It was as if she already knew the outcome, as if she’d resigned herself to it the second he’d opened his mouth. He felt a surge of guilt, sharp and consuming, like a knife twisting in his chest. She deserved better than this. She deserved someone who could give her everything, not someone who let their dreams tear her apart.

"I’ll… I’ll talk to you later about this, okay?” Liv’s voice was barely above a whisper, strained and fragile, like she was holding herself together with fraying threads. She reached for her keys on the table, her movements quick and deliberate, not giving herself time to falter. Before he could respond, before he could say anything to stop her, she was out the door.

The sound of it closing behind her echoed in the apartment, leaving Dominik standing there, frozen. His heart felt heavy, weighed down by the guilt etched into every line of his face. His hands fell limply to his sides, and he stared at the door as if willing her to come back, even though he knew she wouldn’t. He had made his choice. And though he told himself it was for the best, for his career, for their future, the emptiness settling into his chest made it hard to believe that lie.

He stood there for what felt like hours, the silence in the room becoming unbearable. The walls seemed to close in, mocking him with memories of laughter and warmth that now felt like a distant dream. The guilt didn’t subside; it only grew, wrapping around him like a vice. He had hurt the one person who had always believed in him, the one person who had always been by his side. And now, standing alone in the space they had once called theirs, Dominik couldn’t shake the feeling that he had already lost her.

♡----------- END OF FLASHBACK------------♡

Dominik's heart felt as though it might shatter, each beat a painful reminder of the ache that had never truly left him. His voice faltered as he sang, the lyrics catching in his throat. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do—" the words came out fragile, almost a whisper, as his emotions swirled and threatened to consume him. He swallowed hard, his hand trembling slightly as it gripped the microphone. "Haunted by the ghost of you."

The crowd’s cheers dulled in his ears, drowned out by the rush of blood pounding in his head. His eyes, which had been tightly shut to block out the overwhelming wave of emotions, opened cautiously. He scanned the crowd like he always did when the nerves got the best of him, trying to ground himself, searching for something—anything—to focus on.

And then, he saw her.

His knees nearly buckled beneath him, a sharp inhale catching in his chest as his gaze locked onto those eyes. Those unmistakable sparkling blue eyes that had once looked at him with such warmth, such love, that he had felt invincible. The crowd around her blurred, fading into nothingness as the world narrowed down to just her. She wasn’t far from the stage, close enough for him to see every detail that had changed, every small difference that twisted the knife in his chest just a little deeper.

Her bangs were gone. Those bangs that she had worn for years, the ones she used to fuss about constantly. He could hear her voice in his mind, whining dramatically about how they were too long and always got in her eyes. He could feel the memory of her sitting in front of him, the scissors trembling slightly in his hands as he carefully trimmed them for her, laughing softly at her exaggerated sighs of relief. Now, her forehead was bare, and though it suited her, it felt wrong. It wasn’t how he remembered her, and the realization stung more than it should have.

Her cheeks, once round and chubby, were gone too. She looked more mature now, sharper somehow, like life had stripped away the softness she once carried. It hurt him to see that change because those cheeks were another thing he had loved about her. He used to tease her about them, poking them playfully just to hear her laugh and swat his hand away. That laughter echoed faintly in his mind, a ghost of what once was.

Her hair was shorter now, falling just past her shoulders, the ends curled delicately. It was nothing like the long, straight strands she used to complain were too plain, the ones he had run his fingers through countless times. And then there was the makeup—a subtle but noticeable difference. She used to hate makeup, calling it too much work and claiming she didn’t need it. He had agreed, always telling her how naturally beautiful she was. Now, her face was framed with careful touches of eyeliner and blush, enhancing her features in a way that made her seem so far removed from the Liv he used to know.

She had changed.

And yet, she was still her. Still Liv. Still the woman who had been his world. And that realization broke him all over again.

“Oh, take me back to the night we met,” he sang, his voice trembling with the weight of everything he couldn’t say, everything he couldn’t take back.

Their eyes locked across the room, and the pain in her gaze mirrored his own. She wasn’t smiling. There was no joy, no trace of the girl who had once looked at him as though he was her entire universe. Instead, there was a heaviness, a sadness that seemed to reach out and grab him by the throat. It was like staring into a mirror, both of them reflecting the damage that time and distance had wrought.

He wanted to look away, to escape the intensity of her stare, but he couldn’t. His feet stayed planted on the stage, his hands frozen around the microphone, his heart unraveling with every second that passed. The memories came rushing back in a flood he couldn’t control—the nights they had spent under the stars, the way her laughter could fill a room, the softness of her lips against his the first time they kissed.

But with those memories came the bitter ones, too. The way her voice had cracked when she asked if they could still secretly date, the defeated look in her eyes when he told her no, the echo of the door slamming as she walked out of their apartment for the last time.

He had chosen his dreams over her. He had made the choice that he thought was best, the choice that would secure his future. But standing here now, staring at her, he wondered if it had all been worth it. The record label, the fame, the screaming fans—they all felt hollow in comparison to what he had lost.

Liv didn’t move, didn’t say anything. She just stood there, her arms crossed loosely over her chest, her lips pressed into a thin line. He wondered if she hated him. He wondered if she missed him. He wondered if she still thought about him late at night when the world was quiet and the memories crept in.

He poured everything into the next line, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Take me back to the night we met.”

And for the first time in years, he let himself feel it all—the regret, the sorrow, the love that had never truly gone away. Because no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much they had both changed, one thing remained the same: he had never stopped loving her. And he never would.

Dominik’s hands trembled against the microphone as he sang, his voice raw with emotion, cracking slightly under the weight of the memories flooding back. He didn’t want to tear his gaze away from her, afraid that if he blinked, she would vanish like a ghost, just as she had before. His heart was a battlefield, every beat a painful clash of longing and regret.

"When the night was full of terrors," he crooned, his voice thick with anguish. He could still see her, standing there in the crowd, her eyes locked onto his. Those same blue eyes that had once held so much love for him.

"And your eyes were filled with tears."

♡-----------FLASHBACK------------♡

She had come back two days after that fight. Dominik had been sitting in the quiet apartment, his head in his hands, when the sound of the door opening startled him. His heart leapt with a flicker of hope, thinking maybe—just maybe —they could talk things through, that he could fix this. But when he stood and made his way to the bedroom, his breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.

Liv was packing.

She was on her knees by the bed, hastily shoving her belongings into a suitcase. Her hands moved with a shaky urgency, as though she wanted to get it over with before her heart could convince her otherwise. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and for the first time in their years together, Dominik saw her cry.

Her eyes… they were more vivid, more blue than he’d ever seen them, the color made sharper by the glistening tears threatening to spill over. It was a detail so painfully beautiful that it made his stomach churn. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, to beg her to stay, but his feet felt glued to the floor. The realization of what he had done weighed him down like a thousand bricks.

"Liv," he managed to whisper, his voice soft and broken.

She froze at the sound of her name, her hands halting mid-motion. She closed her eyes tightly, her body trembling as if his voice had physically struck her. She didn’t turn to face him, didn’t even lift her head.

"Were you just going to leave …?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Liv exhaled a shaky, pain-laden sigh, her shoulders slumping forward. "I can’t stay, Dominik." Her voice was quiet but firm, laced with heartbreak she couldn’t fully hide. She forced herself to continue packing, her hands trembling as she folded the last of her clothes. "If I stay any longer, it’ll hurt me more."

Her words cut through him like a blade. He felt the sting in his chest, sharp and unrelenting. She never called him Dominik—not like this. She’d always called him “Dom,” the nickname laced with affection and familiarity. Hearing his full name now, spoken with such detachment, was a cold reminder of what they had become.

"We… we broke up, and you have a future to chase," she continued, her voice cracking as her tears returned. She paused for a moment, gripping the edge of the bed as if she needed it to keep herself from falling apart. She didn’t want to say these things. She didn’t want to face the reality of their situation.

But she had to.

Liv had dreamed of staying by his side, of following him to every show, cheering for him from backstage, and holding him at night when the world became too much. She had imagined them building a life together, sharing dreams and laughter. But those dreams felt like a cruel joke now. She couldn’t stay in this apartment, surrounded by memories of a love that no longer had a place in his world.

Dominik wanted to speak, to tell her that she didn’t have to leave, that they could find a way. But the words wouldn’t come. He stood there, frozen, his fists clenched at his sides as the weight of everything he wanted to say crushed him.

Liv zipped her suitcase closed with finality, the sound ringing through the silence like a gunshot. She finally stood, her back still to him as she wiped her face with trembling hands. She didn’t want to look at him—not because she hated him, but because she loved him too much.

She loved him enough to let him go.

Dominik’s heart screamed at him to move, to do something, to stop her. But all he could do was watch, his throat tightening as she lifted the suitcase off the bed and turned toward the door. She paused for the briefest moment, her hand resting on the doorknob, and Dominik’s breath hitched.

This was it.

He wanted to run to her, to pull her into his arms and beg her to stay, but his pride, his guilt, his fear—they all held him back. He stayed rooted to the spot, helplessly watching as the only person who had ever truly understood him walked out of his life.

And when the door closed behind her, it was as if all the warmth in the apartment went with her. The silence that followed was deafening, and Dominik felt like he couldn’t breathe. The space that had once been filled with her laughter, her presence, her love, now felt cold and empty, as though it had never been a home at all.

He sank to his knees, his head in his hands, as the weight of her absence settled over him. He had lost her. And the worst part was, he knew it was his fault.

♡----------- END OF FLASHBACK------------♡

Dominik’s voice cracked as he returned to the present, forcing out the next line of the song. "Oh, take me back to the night we met." His gaze was still locked on hers, the pain in her eyes reflecting his own.

He had never stopped loving her. And as he stood on that stage, pouring his soul into the lyrics, he knew one thing with gut-wrenching certainty: he would spend the rest of his life haunted by the memory of the girl who had walked out that door, taking his heart with her.

Dominik stood there on the stage, his chest heaving as his voice quivered, the weight of the song pressing down on him like an anchor. Every lyric that escaped his lips felt like shards of glass cutting into his soul, slicing open wounds that had never truly healed. The crowd’s cheers faded into a dull hum, his world narrowing to just him, the stage, and her.

Her.

She stood there, just far enough away to be out of reach but close enough to undo him completely. The years had changed her, but her presence felt the same. It was a magnetism he couldn’t ignore, a pull that dragged him back through time, to the night they met in that small-town bar.

If only he could go back.

Every fiber of his being screamed to rewrite the past, to undo the choices that had led him to this point. He had been so naive, so foolish. He’d thought that sacrificing her for his career was the right thing to do, that it was the only way to succeed. But what was the point of success if it left him hollow, if every song he wrote was just a desperate plea to feel her presence again?

"I had all and then most of you," he sang, his voice breaking as tears welled in his eyes.

The crowd cheered, oblivious to the storm raging inside him, but his focus was entirely on her. Liv. She had always been his muse, his anchor, the light that had guided him through his darkest days. Every hit song, every album, every word he had ever penned—it had all been about her.

The pain on her face was too much to bear. He watched as her eyes, those brilliant blue eyes he had fallen for, shimmered with unshed tears. The sight took his breath away, the realization striking him like a punch to the gut: he was the reason for her pain, again.

The tears spilled over, tracing paths down her cheeks, and his heart shattered. The second time. This was the second time he had made her cry, and the guilt was unbearable.

Liv couldn’t stand it anymore. Her chest heaved as the memories she had buried clawed their way back to the surface, dragging her under. It had been years—years since their breakup, years since he had chosen his career over her. And yet, there she was, standing in the crowd, her heart still tethered to him. She had tried to move on, to build a life without him, but nothing had ever filled the void he left behind.

Dominik’s voice cracked again, trembling with emotion as the next line tore its way out of him. "Some and now none of you."

The words felt like knives, each one cutting deeper than the last. His tears flowed freely now, his vision blurring as he struggled to keep going. He blinked furiously, desperate to see her clearly one last time.

"Take me back to the night we met."

The stage lights dimmed slightly, casting an ethereal glow over the crowd, but Dominik couldn’t see anything beyond her. He blinked again, clearing his vision just in time to notice something that sent his heart plummeting to the floor.

She was gone.

Liv had disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind an emptiness that consumed him whole. It felt as though the ground had given way beneath him, and he was free-falling into a void of regret and despair.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," he sang weakly, his voice barely audible now.

His knees buckled, and he sank to the stage floor, the weight of her absence crushing him. His mind raced, the realization hitting him with brutal clarity: he had lost her. Again. And this time, he wasn’t sure if he would ever recover.

"Haunted by the ghost of you," he rasped, his gaze fixated on the spot where she had stood, as if staring hard enough could will her back into existence.

But she was gone.

And just like before, he had let her slip away. His heart screamed at him to run after her, to drop the microphone and chase her through the crowd, but his body wouldn’t move. He felt paralyzed, frozen in the same torment that had plagued him for years. He had been a fool then, and he was still a fool now.

He didn’t deserve her. He had never deserved her.

"Take me back to the night we met," he choked out one final time, the lights dimming as the last note faded into silence.

Dominik ripped out his earpiece, the cold, harsh silence of the stage surrounding him. His shoulders shook as a sob tore through him, raw and guttural, wrecking his body with its force. He doubled over, his hands clutching his chest as though trying to hold his fractured heart together.

The crowd roared with applause, oblivious to his breakdown, but Dominik didn’t hear them. All he could hear was the echo of her voice, her laughter, her cries. All he could feel was the ache in his chest, the weight of a love he had lost and never let go of.

The lights dimmed completely, and Dominik remained on his knees, tears streaming down his face as he silently begged for a second chance he knew would never come.

[undermine-the-instinct]

Crush or Chance?

● Bard!reader masterlist ● Next part.... ●Warnings: None ● Wc: 5.9K

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times and shame on the both of us. So what be said for a fourth time?

(Or in other words, Kaveh met you long before you knew him.)

If he's being a little honest, Kaveh has a bit of a crush on you. 

Or maybe it's something more like a bittersweet admiration, the same way you'd look at phoenix and think, this will end in flames.

The more he worked, the more clients he contracted the more dissatisfied he became. Functionality over art, structure over beauty, efficiency over soul. He felt like life was being drained out of him. And after a while, he started thinking; Why should I? What was the point? However great he was in the eyes of others, no matter what praises they heap onto him, he is but one person. What could he do on his own?

And how arrogant of him to hope to even try! What has he ever truly done? Even his Magnum opus; A palace that doesn't even belong to him and has buried him in a lifelong debt. He was never really ever going to amount to much.

 It was during one of these depressing bouts of his that he met you.

Bars are cesspools, collecting tears and drunken spurs, but also joy. Like his polar opposite you lit up the room, and he couldn't help but feel drawn. Your voice resounded throughout the space, and it stirred something deep in his heart. He felt like he had just found the answer to a puzzle he was grilling over for so long, and seemingly, for no reason at all. He was alive! He was in a bar! Shouldn't he be joining in on the merry?

And so he danced the night away. He sang and greeted old friends and he paid for all his drinks that night. It wasn't until the place was closing that he thought about the bard that stirred his heart and feet into action. But by then you were long gone. If it's meant to be I'll find them again, he thought, and began the trek home.

He didn’t get to meet you that night. He found you again though another day, dancing in the center of a crowd that had surrounded you. There was a man playing a fiddle, while another played on a flute. You were barefoot, a scarf around your waist trailing behind you in a ribbon of silk, a smile on your face. You weren't afraid to get too close to the crowd, you snapped fingers and captured a delighted stranger in your scarf, taking a child by the hand and twirling them around and around.

Mentioning art is the quickest way to end a conversation, is something that is generally known in Sumeru. But there was no conversation to be had here, there was only music and laughter, for the simple joy of being able to move. He felt like a bystander watching a moving painting.

Shouts sounded behind him, and as one the crowd turned back to see. Matra were approaching with scowls, a collective thunderstorm to usher the people on and disperse the crowd.

“Hey! You folks! You're under arrest for public misconduct and unsanctioned musical performance!”

“Uh, no we’re not!” with a last bow to the crowd, and a trilling sound from the flutist, you and your companions ran in opposite directions, gone like magpies in the wind. One second you're there and then you're gone. 

Kaveh wants to know what your name is. Who are you? 

“Oh, that pest? Just some runt from all the way in Monstadt,” a client frowns, deep and fissured.

“One of those traveling sorts, so let's hope that they pack up and get moving soon.”

“Have they been especially troublesome?” He scoffs at this and looks at Kaveh with wide disbelieving eyes.

“‘Especially trouble?’ Like you wouldn’t believe! You and I both know how the Akademiya hates those artsy types, and then this person shows up and decides to make a whole mockery of that. And for what? Out of spite? How childish.”

“I might have seen them around actually, at a few bars I've visited with some colleagues,” Kaveh supplies, refilling the man’s drink.

“They didn’t look like the sort to cause much trouble.” He’s a liar. As a matter of fact, that smile you wore back then spoke nothing but mystique and mischief. 

“Those Monstadt types always like to cause trouble. They had one revolution and think themselves all martyrs and rebels. Trust me, I’m older than you and I know. Remember that one girl who graduated from the Akademiya in two years? I even offered to sponsor that girl and look where she is now; working as a librarian in that grass field of all places,” he scowled.

“What a waste of talent. I’ve had enough of them, so let's hope this one hops over to Fontaine or something, they'd be welcomed over there I bet. Now, didn't we come here for something? The plans for my building, you got them?”

“Of course sir, right here…” This isn't the first time he's heard something like this, especially amongst his oldest clients. It's a shared sentiment, and it feels like something bitter and vindictive. He knocks back his own glass.

Kaveh doesn't know who you are, but he wonders; if you ever went to Fontaine, would his mother like you?

The next time he sees you is in a public garden. And he's late, he was supposed to be at a meeting with another client at least forty five minutes ago, but rushing along, the way you were just standing there caught his eye.

He can hardly see you above all the rolled blueprints and stuffed folders he's carrying, he forgot his bag and it was too late to go back and get it, but he could tilt his head back and get a clearer look at your form in the grass.

Standing in the shade and dappled sunlight of a great tree, barefoot and…posing. He followed your gaze to a book you had lying open in the grass, and saw a few poses and stands he half recognized, all hand drawn with notes in the margins.

You paid no mind to the odd looks or stares you were getting, the way that people gave you a wide berth of space, how some shook their heads and scurried their children on, the way that others would stop and stare before shaking themselves out of their reverie. Kaveh wasn’t part of either group, but he was still…watching you.

He must have been more obvious than most because you lifted your head just as you were stretching, tilting your head in question like a bird, an automatic smile on your face. Quizzical but warm. He tilted his head back at you, like the idiot he was, and your smile broke out wider. 

“Good morning to you too, stranger! What are you up to this fine morning?”

Him? You were speaking with him? He lifted up the filled blueprints he had in his arms, obscuring his face more. “Off to work. And, um, how about you?”

“Stretching! Or at least, pretending to.” You twirled a bit into your next position, so that you had your back to him now.

“You're not doing a very good job pretending.”

“Oh? Am I being too obvious?” There was mirth in your voice, amusement.

“You're doing an arabesque in a demi-plie, I think it's obvious.” You stumbled a little and whirled so fast to look at him that he wondered for a second if you could get whiplash. He was holding too many blueprints he could imagine it was hard to see anything other than his bob of his hair and his brows.

“...You know what an Arabesque is?” He shrugged carefully.

”My mother lives in Fontaine, and they are fond of performances there. I know a few terms.” He saw your expression fall a bit through the peeps of his papers, but you brightened up before he could say anything more.

“That's still more than most people I've talked to. What else do you know?”

Kaveh could see you, eager and open to a stranger like himself. He recalled the way the crowd clapped along with you when you were dancing in the street. The way you sang, loud and unabashed, like a thunderbird whose only job it was was to wake the world, to a prophecy now foretold. But he couldn’t tell the future, and he thought neither could you.

How naively brazen you are. How unapologetically bold. How lovely.

“...Aren't you afraid?”

“What?” Your face shuttered off into confusion but he went on.

“Sumeru isn't the most ideal place for musicians and artists. I’m sure you've felt the general attitude and atmosphere, so, what are you doing? Aren't you scared of the repercussions?”

“Repercussions?”

“The sages have the matra set on you. That's not a rumor-it's fact. Aren't you scared of what else they could do to you?’’

“Well yeah, of course I am? But what else am I supposed to do, change the way I live?” His eyes widen, while you scoff, kicking up your feet.

“I’ve said it before and I'll say it again, they’re frightened of us.”

“Frightened? Frightened of what?” What could the sages, the governing force and face of Sumeru, have to fear from the populace?

“Frightened of what we can do? What has humanity done when pushed against the corner, or forced inside the cave? What have we done when the night falls and the rain pours?” You spread out your arms and tilt your head towards the sky.

“We sing! We gather together to tell stories over our work, we dance around the fire, we paint the tales of our passages onto the cavern walls, all things we have done before the written word. Even then, when we learned to write and record our stories, we created fables and tall tales to tell one another.”

“After humans discovered how to read and write, civilization did start to advance, at a before unprecedented rate.,” He admits.

“Art is what pushed civilizations to prosperity. It continues to.  The only reason The Akademiya doesn't acknowledge this is because they don't see nor recognize everything as a form of art.”

“Isn’t that a bit naive though?” He shuffles the load in his arms.

“That sounds like romanticism to me.”

“It is. And what's wrong with that?” You shrug.

"Tell me, who embroiders those elegant robes they all wear? Who tills and plants their outdoor gardens? Who builds their offices and homes and buildings? Who cooks their food or carves their furniture? Art is intrinsic to humanity. It is inevitable, irrefutable. Are they trying to deny that?" You scowled.

"Do they not find these things lovely, and necessary? Do they think themselves above the divine craft of creation? Do theyhink themselves as Gods?" You scowled harder, but then sighed, letting your breath out in a single push.

"Hm. But, that's not the question you asked me, right?"

“....No.” Then you thought, tilted your head up to the sky and huffed out a laugh.

“Well, actually, yes I am. But what else can I do, change the way I live?...No. I’m going to continue as I've always have, and if that’s something that makes me a target, then that’s just what comes with the territory of being a star.” You grinned, bright.

“....There are rumors that the Akademyia will deploy the General Mahamatra to subdue you if you make any sort of big fuss.”

“Well, what kind of star doesn't have a scandal or two under their belt?” You grinned again, but wobbly at the corners, and take a good look at all the papers he's carrying.

‘I…hope I'm not keeping you up? You seemed to be in a bit of a hurry before–” He gasped, cutting you off.

"Oh Archons, yes! Damn it, I'm going to be so late!!” He got completely sidetracked!! He gave you a nod that he hoped you saw and ran off to his appointment. Hopefully the client was still there.

Life is art, and art is intrinsic to life, basically, right? If that's the way someone like you sees the world, maybe he can adopt that mindset.

And hopefully he'd find you again, and greet you properly this time, no matter what rumors you were embroiled in. He’ll leave it up to fate this time as well.  it's already led him to you twice before.

You're so pretty. Kaveh has a bit of a crush on you already.

He woke up to a dark familiar room, and a dull throbbing in his head.

This was familiar, and normal. He wasn't kidnapped, or anything. He must have gone drinking again, and stumbled his way back home. The question was how he got inside. He’s pretty sure that he lost his keys several days ago and hasn't yet found the time to go get a new pair made. So the question stands…

Actually, the question can wait. His mouth feels like it's full of dust and cotton, and he needs water. That's his first priority.

His feet are bare and the floor cool as he pads his way over to the kitchen, trying to rub the heaviness out of his eyes. 

When he reaches the kitchen he stops, and rubs at them again because what are you doing sitting at the kitchen island talking to his jerk of a roommate?

“Oh, you're up.” You stand and walk over to him, reaching out like he needs steadying.

“What are you doing here?”

“We went out drinking and I carried you home, remember?”

“Oh, I remember of course, I wasn't talking to you though dear, I was talking to the man standing there like a mother ready to catch her kid sneaking back inside.”

“Because that's exactly what you did.” The bastard had a steaming cup up to his face, not even bothering to look at him. “How did you get in without your keys?”

“We used the key under the mat. I lost my keys, so how else?”

“I had taken the key and hidden it somewhere else.”

“What? Why would you hide the key?!”

“Because then you'd lose that one too, obviously.”

“Tch. Wait, then how did…” You laugh and shuffle a little, culprit.

“Yeah, sorry, this is my fault. I really wanted to get Kaveh into his bed so I kinda…picked the lock? It’s not broken or anything but still…” You lower your head in apology.

“I wasn’t willing to be patient, I’m sorry.”

“Yes, I'm sure you were in a hurry.” Al haitham sighs in reply and Kaveh bristles.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. What do you think I meant?”

“I think you know exactly what you were insinuating.”

“Then why don't you spell it out for me?” He finally looked at him, tri-colored eyes gleaming oddly in the light. He looked…Apprehensive? No, that was just irritation, as usual.

Kaveh clicks his tongue in annoyance and turns back to you.

“See? What did I tell you about this guy? You don't need to apologize to this jerk, alright? You’re perfectly fine.”

“Oh? Talking behind my back now are you.”

Kaveh scoffs, heat curling in his chest. Or maybe just the leftover alcohol.  “It's nothing you wouldn't outright say yourself, so no need to ponder what I’ve said directly. I only spoke the truth, which is even sadder if you ask me.”

“Okay, stop it, that's enough,” You step between the two of them, frowning.

“There is no need for this petty back and forth. It’s late and we should all be in bed already. In fact,” You turn to him, “You were sleeping when I left you, do you need something?”

“...Were you two talking?”

“Just…greeting each other. He came in not too long after we did.”

Another cup sits on the table, softly steaming and obviously yours. It hasn't been long, but you’ve been here for more than a few minutes at least.

You scratch the back of your head with a sheepish grin. “Maybe I should have waited, then I wouldn’t have needed to break in.”

“No harm no foul.” Kaveh’s mouth gapes open when Alhaitham waves you off.

“‘No harm no foul?’ Have you lost your mind?! Are you sick?!”

“I'm perfectly fine you fool,” He sighs through his nose.

“I just expect as much behavior from any of your companions. Nothing was harmed in the end so its fine, I’ll just have the locks changed tomorrow.” He drinks from the cup, and looks up at him.

“I hope you know I’m not paying for your own set of keys.”

“What?! Why not–”

“Kaveh,” You interject. “Are you alright? You were dead asleep when I set you down.”

He groans, rubbing his forehead.

“About that, Thanks for carrying me all the way back here. I was the one who invited you out but you ended up taking care of me.”

“Well, you let me pick the place so I guess it's even between us. Did you get thirsty or something?”

He nods. “Then go lay back down, I'll bring it to you.”

“What? I can't have you serve me under my roof.”

Alhaitham snorts. “‘Your roof?’ Technically its–”

“Ah ah ah!” You cut him off with a raise of your voice and a sharp look, Kaveh grins from behind your shoulder. Alhaitham’s eyes widen by your audacity, and by the archons are you lovely. You turn back to him.

“It's fine. You're the one who needs to rest so let me help you out. Go lay down.”

“Well. if you insist.” He turns and starts the trek back to the room, and the house is quiet enough that he can hear your lowered voices as he walks off. He can't help but feel that you sent him away so that you could say something, or finish talking with Alhaitham. But why would you?

He has a hand on the knob, shutting his door when the thought strikes him, Why is Alhaitham even up at this hour? Sure, sometimes he'd get back late from his scribe duties or whatever, but that was rare. And it's not like he went drinking out late that often (as if he had people to go with him).

And beyond that, why was he talking with you? Of course you were amazing and charming in your own right but people like the both of you don't mesh very well, and with your reputation, it was best to avoid him. As The Scribe, he was technically a Matra, after all.

Oh fuck he’s a matra.

He's just about to go swing the door open to dash to your rescue when it swings open of its own accord, and there you were with a glass of water, wide eyed to see him there.

He grabs your shoulders and tries to turn you to steer you back, but damn it you’re strong. You don’t budge.

“Uh, buddy? Are you alright? What's going on?”

“You have to get out of here, like right now.”

“What, why? Can we calm down for a second?” 

“Nonono, you can’t, you have to go now–” He tries to grab you and pick you up around the waist, but you spin around behind him, grab him by his collar and drag him inside the room.

“I’m being serious!” You shut the door, a laugh under your breath.

“I’m sure you are, so explain yourself first.”

“My roommate, he’s the Grand Scribe.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So he’s technically a Matra. And I wouldn’t put it behind him to do something so you need to… like, go, before he reports you or something! One word and the matra would come swarming in here like flies to honey.”

“But he won’t.”

“Darling listen–”

“But he won’t. Not only have I already done my community service, paid my fines, did my time and stayed out of trouble, he actually wanted to thank me.”

What? “Thank you for what?”

“For getting you inside quietly. He just came back from work he said, and didn’t want to deal with any of your drunken shenanigans. So he said it's alright that I picked the lock.”

“He told you it's alright?”

“Yeah, as long as I use the extra key next time.”

“What?!” He threw his hands up in the air.

“He told you where the secret key is?”

“Yep. And he said that he's gonna give me a copy of the new one.” You pop the ‘p’.

“And sorry, the stipulation that I can use it is that I’m not allowed to let you know where it is.” He sucks his teeth and they laugh, reaching out to tug the sleeve of his shirt.

“Sorry love. But come now, take off those scarves so you can lay down, alright? It's late.” And something goes warm and gooey when you use that soft tone of voice, so Kaveh does exactly that, and takes the glass from you with a grateful look when you hand it to him.

“Does your head hurt?” 

“Just a little. Not as bad as it usually does.”

“See? That's why you drink water before you pregame.”

“Well now I know for the next time.” He takes a big gulp and hands the rest of the glass to you, waving it away when you try to put it back in his hands.

“Oh, fine.” You finish it yourself then, and Kaveh falls back into the sheets, heavy lidded once more.

“How come you’re not drunk or stumbling, hm? It’s not fair.”

“Oh, I am drunk,” you giggle, “I just know how to hide it really well.”

“It's not fair.”

“That’s because I'm from Monstadt dear, my blood has at least a 10% alcohol content.” Kaveh sighs and covers his eyes, drinking in the quiet. You’re sitting next to him, humming softly under your breath, a brush away from fully singing.

“Hey, why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me those pet names. Like honey or dear or love. Why do you do that?” He looks and catches the tail end of your shrug.

“Because you're my friend. You’re like, the only real friend I've made in this entire damn nation, so I gotta be a little sweet with you, yeah?"

“Sweet with me?” He turns so he's facing you.

“Yeah! You make syrup with honey and not salt, right?” You smile, gold flashing at your throat in the low lamp light.

This close he can see the warm flush that the alcohol has given you, the way you give your smiles even more easily than you normally do, eyes soft and direct.

If he’s being a little honest, Kaveh has a bit of a crush on you. There's no other way to put it. He's so excited to see you, whenever he can, whenever you can, and he wants to see you now more than ever. He wishes you didn’t have to hide so often because he wants to be seen out in public with you, not sneaking like teenagers to some seedy bar, where people are too drunk or too downtrodden to care who comes in.

You…like those kinds of places though, odd as you are. You order a drink, and as soon as you down it you're tuning up an instrument and springing into song. By the third song the whole bar or tavern is joining in, and tears are replaced with smiles, at least for that night.

“Will you stay the night?”

You laugh, again. “And where would I sleep, silly?”  

“Right here. Right next to me.”

“Oh, I could never.”

“But you could.”

“I could. But I won't.” You move to get off the bed and Kaveh shoots up, grabbing onto your sleeve.

“Then you can have the bed. Just, stay here. For now. Until morning.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, and his heart while you're at it, while he waits for your answer. Maybe it's because of the way he implores you, or this quiet moment of the night, but you sigh and he knows you’ve given in.

“The bed is big enough for the both of us. Scoot over.” He does as he's told and hopes his face isn't giving his excitement away. He slides under the covers while you slip off your outer layers, and soon enough he can feel you slither beneath the sheets next to him.

“You want to keep the lamp on?”

“No, turn it off.”

“Alright.” The room floods in darkness, and you settle back down.

He’s had a couple sleepovers before. Although, the majority of these were before his father’s…incident, while he was still a very young boy. The others were during his Akademiya days, and were most often just him and his colleagues passing out after days of working on a project non-stop.

So this was new. He’s perfectly aware of his and your bodies; every shift, every position, the way your breathing sounds. He wonders how he’s gonna fall asleep like this.

“Kaveh?”

“Yes?”

“Are you up?”

“Yeah. How else could I answer you?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” You giggle. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did love.”

“Another question, silly.”

“Of course.” You wriggle a bit till you're laying on your stomach, face towards him.

“Why didn't you come to the anniversary performance? The one with me and Miss Nilou?” He winces, and turns to face you too.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you come?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was work?” He sighs.

“Really. I had to meet some bigshot client and I tried but I couldn’t reschedule.

“I really wanted to go.”

“...Yeah, I wanted you to go too.” The guilt twists and churns inside him, and he sits up in bed.

“I'm sorry, truly. Tell me when the next one is and I'll be there, I promise. I’ll even miss an appointment if I have to.”

The silence reigns heavy, you don't speak. He's about to repeat his words, swear on them, when you answer him. 

“Cyno came and interrogated Zubayr and his son. He then had the members takes a few days leave of absence so that he could interrogate us each. So, Zubayr decided that I shouldn't have any more performances, for the time being. The whole thing with Cyno put the theater on blast, so no more future performances.” Your voice is somber and dull, like a worn knife, disappointment sour.

“And no more public performances either, huh?” 

“Not for a while. Cyno is keeping a closer eye out on me. The only reason I could go out with you today was because he had to go out on an excursion, and I know how to avoid the lower Matra.’ You sigh and roll over onto your back.

“So maybe its better if you didn’t come. You would have been targeted too if you were seen with me.”

“...Well, you might not be able to perform publicly, but The Akademiya has no say in what goes on in private property.”

“So?”

“If you…ever want to sing or dance or anything really, you can come find me. This place was given to Alhaitham and I to be refurbished as living quarters, or you can even find me at the Architects Guild, since that building isn’t government owned.”

“Kaveh,” and now it's your turn to sit up. “I can’t put you in danger like that.”

“I won't be in danger.”

“You know, better than I probably do, that the Akademiya don't like outliers. I’m an outlier. If they come to know that you’re friends with me, what do you think will happen to you?”

“It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong. Not really.”

“I’ve undermined them and they really don’t like that. It's hard enough for you, the light of the Kshahrewar, to get clients and make ends meet. I don't want to make things any harder.”

“Things are already hard and I'm doing fine enough, so you don't need to worry about me. The worst I’ll have to deal with is a couple of rumors, and those are everywhere in Sumeru.

"If my reputation is as good as people proclaim I can survive a few rumors.. Furthermore,” He cuts you off as you open your mouth to speak.

“I know how hard it is for you to be here. I know you feel like you have something to prove but that doesn't mean I don't want to make things easier for you, even at my own slight expense. You can't change my mind, love, so don’t try.” Silence returns to the room in a wave, while you two stay poised, tense. Kaveh doesn’t know if you can see him in the darkness; he stares into the room until the dark takes over his vision, blinding him until he blinks it back again. 

“I used to be a knight you know,” You speak.” Back home in Monstadt, I was a part of the Knights of Favonius.”

“Oh, wow, that’s amazing.”

“I quit,” You continue without fanfare.

“I started to hate my life, and hate myself. I was young too, and I was in a relationship that was falling apart and my whole life felt like it was ending.” You laugh.

“Goes to show how naive I was then. But I quit, and I left, and I just decided to do the things that made me happy, and went along with my morals. I never wanted to feel so miserable and hopeless ever again. Those feelings still sometimes come back, but what I do then is go to where the people were, and sing, make them smile and laugh.

“I don't have that option in Sumeru. I mean I do but, it's never been a choice I’ve ever been actively punished for, before. I'm going to keep doing it of course. I’ll be damned if I ever let a government silence me, but…

“But it still hurts a little, you know?” He reaches out and drags you closer till you're resting in his arms. You've hugged one another before, but this time he wraps his arms fully around you till your brow rests on his collarbone, his cheek against your hair.

“Well, my offer is open for you anytime, at least. I’m sorry my home hasn’t been exactly welcoming to you.”

“Mhm.”

“It must have been hard for you. I’m sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize,” You breathe, reaching to hold him back.

“You've been perfectly wonderful. I don't know what I would have done without you.”

“Well, we are both fellow artists on the brink of homelessness, so we ought to stick together.”

“If your roommate ever kicks you out you can stay with me. And if I'm ever kicked out we can roam the streets together.” He chuckles, and he's sure you can feel it where you're pressed to him.

“Well, I can play an instrument, so maybe we can be traveling bards. We can go to Fontaine and meet my mother.”

“Oh, that would be a shock, I bet. I met a girl in Liyue once who plays that Fontaine rock music. I could send her back something. Is your mother a nice lady?”

His chest twinges, remembering tears,  heavy silences and dull eyes, The memory of sunshine.

“She's a rather shy woman, and she’s just gotten over some adversary. She's perfectly lovely.”

“What does she look like?"

“Well, I suppose you can look at me and figure it out,” He shrugs. “I've been told I look remarkably like her.”

“Oh, so she's beautiful then.” He starts, and he feels a flush crawl over his face, warm and slow.

“Oh, you sweet talker, you.” You tilt your face up and he's sure you have that sweet smile on your face, that cat's curl.

“I speak only the truth, my dear, I swear it. Anywho, how else am I supposed to keep you by my side, if not with my wily words?”

“Perhaps your fiery temperament? Your musical skill? Your graceful figure? Your sweet kisses?” And you reach up and kiss him, taking the bait.

And yes, you’ve done this before as well, nothing further, but Kaveh’s heart never fails to race. Your mouth is skilled in more than just song, and your tongue is sinfully soft.

You definitely feel the heat of his face when you pull away and rub your cheek against his.

“You’re absolutely precious Kaveh.”

‘Oh, don't patronize me,” He grumbles, and pulls you in even tighter, shoulder to hip aligned, legs entangled. “We have to sleep now. It’s late enough.”

“Why should we?” You flirt. You brush your mouth against his once more and snuggle yourself closer. 

“”I'm afraid your kiss has sent my blood racing. It will be hard enough to go to sleep now.”

“Hm. Well, why don’t you sing then? Maybe something calming, a lullaby your mother would sing to you before bed.”

“Hm…I spoil you too much already.”

“But you'll do it, right?” He chuckles when you bonk your head against his. But you settle down, and it's not long till your voice comes hither, soft and lilting. It's hardly more than a tune under your breath, a hum in your throat, but it is soothing, and soon enough he’s actually asleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, the dull throb lessened but persistent in his head, you are not in his bed, or his home. There's only a single note, a badly drawn winking rabbit, but he smiles and pockets it, getting ready for another day. He’ll run into you again soon enough. And if not, then he’ll simply find you.

There seems to be a commotion a few streets away, from what he could hear. Kaveh sighs, harsh and loud, and pushes himself off the wall that he's been leaning against. He came out for some fresh air, and the promise of some spectacle does not entice him. He starts making the trek back to the Architects guild.

Pounding footsteps slap the ground behind him, and he turns just in time for a figure to dash into him. He barely shakes off his shock before he reaches out to half catch the person, but the weight drags him down and he falls too.

“What the hell…? Archons, are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry for being in the way.” And its the way you turn your head to check behind you that gives him a clear look at your face, familIar and shocking. He barely has the sense of mind to reply back, struck like hammer against a molten steel.

He…hadn’t been looking for you, to be honest. It’s been three times already, that you’ve met but never properly seen nor greeted each other, and he had hoped another opportunity would just…come. Fall into his lap, luck be damned. 

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times and shame on the both of us.

So what could be said for a fourth time?

“....the General Mahamatra.”

“The what now?” the General Mahamatra? He heard the rumors, but he never thought that you would prove yourself trouble enough for the sages to deploy him. Against you?

You must have done something reckless, like dancing in the streets again. Or singing in the taverns or just being too you. You were lovely, but sumeru likes its lovely things in glass cases, not prancing in bars or dashing down alleyways.

You speak quickly, and the words just register in his brain before he hears the commotion in the plaza, nearer now, the wince on your face and the way you jolt, ready to flee. He makes a decision.

He grabs at the hand fate and has dealt him, and pulls you further inside the commercial alleyways, knowing exactly where he wants to take you and nothing of what he wants to say to you.

But he can start with this. “ I have heard of you! I’ve been wanting to meet you!” He grins, bright like a star.

“I’m Kaveh. You are?

Taglist

@jjkclub, @jaguarthecat, @swivy123, @seajellyx, @ash-in-lavender, @pepithe3rd, @uchihaeirin .

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Through the Storm

Summary:

Hob follows Dream after he walks out of their 1889 meeting, stubbornly braving the worsening storm along the dark roads.

Meanwhile, Dream is still bristling from the turn of their conversation, and puts as much distance as he can between him and Hob. However, a sudden shift in the collective unconscious catches his attention, and he realises something is amiss.

Word Count: 4,147

Rating: Explicit

Notes (more at the end):

For Dreamling Week Day 4: Storm

Warning:

Hob's death is shown, but it's not graphic. His dead body is also described, but not too detailed and it's not gory because I'm squeamish. Blood is briefly mentioned.

Take care in reading!

[Read on AO3]

---

"You knew Lady Johanna. You know Lushing Lou." Hob pointed at his friend with his tobacco. "You know everyone, don't you?"

It was something that had surprised Hob at their last meeting, how his friend seemed to know Lady Johanna enough to show her visions which would incapacitate her. Just two centuries before that, his friend didn’t know who Shaxberd was. It would seem that he had been more inclined to know about people since then, whether they were of the upper crust like Lady Johanna or someone more among the commoners like Lou.

His friend gave a knowing smile that didn't really clarify anything. "I saw her again, you know."

Hob stared at him for a moment, debating whether to press the question further. He gave a relenting smile and tapped his tobacco twice. "Who? Lady Johanna?"

"She undertook a task for me, and succeeded admirably, I might add." His friend sounded impressed, raising his eyebrows.

That gave Hob pause. Lady Johanna met his friend twice in a century, after she had tried to maim and kidnap them both. Not only that, but she had worked for him. Did that mean they saw each other more than twice, then? Who in God’s creation was this woman that his oldest friend—whom he barely saw pay the slightest bit of attention to other people—had seen fit to meet with her so often?

"That might be the only thing I've learned after 500 years.” Hob tried for a smile to seem playful about it, but then he just averted his eyes. He almost asked if Lady Johanna had been made immortal now as well, but by this point he knew that asking such direct questions would not yield any answers. Perhaps he would just wait if she would turn out to be the next Shakespeare, or whatever boon it was that his friend gave her.

He turned to look at Lou, sitting at the bar with the drink she just bought. “People are almost always better than you think they are." Almost always, anyway. Being alive for much longer than others meant that he also had much more time to make mistakes. He chuckled to himself and glanced down before facing his friend again. "Not me, though. Still the same as ever,” he winked.

"I think perhaps you've changed,” his friend said easily.

He spoke as if he truly believed it, looking at Hob with a similar gaze as he did at their last meeting. That look had lit a fire inside Hob a century ago, giving him the courage to ask to prolong their meeting at another pub. His friend had declined, but Hob never forgot that look.

And now there was even more to it, a high regard that Hob had never thought he would receive from him. He had prided himself in learning to read the most subtle of expressions from his friend, but right now, not only did his friend hold a new level of respect for him, he was letting Hob see it.

Hob felt himself take a shuddering breath, and he had to avert his eyes for a moment before speaking again. “Well, I may have learnt a bit from my mistakes, but um… doesn't seem to stop me from making them," he quipped.

His friend chuckled, holding his gaze.

Hob froze for a moment at the sound, at the sight of his friend smiling and nearly laughing.

"... I think it's you that's changed."

The mirth in his friend's eyes dissipated, and he sat up straighter. “How so?”

Hob slowly leaned forward, choosing his words carefully. "I think I know why we still meet here, century after century."

His friend tilted his chin up proudly, his eyes becoming guarded, but there was a glimpse of fear in it too. Hob wanted him to know that there was nothing to be afraid of, and he could only do that if he were close enough to say it.

"It's not because you want to see whether or not I'm ready to seek death, I don't think I'll ever seek death, by now you know that about me. So…” Hob paused for a moment, watching his friend. “I think you're here for something else,” he took a chance.

“And what might that be?” His friend’s whisper of a voice cracked with emotion, his posture tense as if he might flee at any moment or strike Hob down with his otherworldly magic.

But Hob wanted to show him that he wasn't afraid, that he would never believe that he would be harmed by this creature.

Hob's gaze softened. "Friendship. I think you're lonely."

He watched as his friend took a shallow breath.

"... You dare."

Hob glanced down and hastily tried to find the right words. "No, look, I'm not saying—"

"You…" his friend—if he could still call him that—cut him off.

Hob looked at him, afraid he had screwed everything up.

"... dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship." His friend’s voice was dangerously quiet now, eyes misting over.

Hob smiled hesitantly. "Yes. Yes I do." Would it be so terrible if they needed each other?

His friend—companion—slowly stood up. Hob followed him with his gaze, forehead creased in concern.

"Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong.” There was an undertone of anger in his calm voice, and his eyes were shining with unspilled tears.

Hob stood up, frowning in worry as his mind raced trying to come up with a way to mend things.

For several heartbeats they just stood there, silently holding each other’s gaze.

A mixture of feelings was welling up inside Hob’s chest. It was tangling his mess of thoughts, but it was clear to him at this moment that he didn’t want his friend to feel alone.

He stepped forward—

His friend immediately turned away and made quick strides to the exit.

Hob nearly stumbled; the defeated feeling in him burning away from the anger that rapidly surfaced at the sight of his friend going out the door.

He followed him out onto the empty road, stopping to glare at the receding figure. "I'll tell you what, I'll be here in a hundred years' time. And if you're here then too, it'll be because we're friends," his voice broke. "No other reason. Right?" he yelled.

Hob took deep breaths, watching his friend of 500 years continue to disappear into the night without so much as a glance back. “Fuck,” he cursed quietly.

Thunder boomed overhead, and sheets of rain pelted Hob as the storm got stronger.

He muttered a few more curses before heading to the general direction of where his friend—yes his friend—had walked off to.

He had seen him disappear in a swirl of sand twice before, back in 1489 and 1689 when he curiously tried to follow after their meeting. If that fae-like creature really wanted to be out of reach, Hob would not have seen him walk all the way down that road. Now it was only a matter of catching up to him before he decided to magically disappear after all.

Hob had not expected that they might have to have an emotional conversation in the rain like in some bloody romantic play, but it was far from the most insane thing he had ever done.

“Hey!” he called out over the sound of the rain and the wind making his jacket flap wildly around him. “You know, if you had told me your name, maybe I can address you properly, Your Lordship!”

There was no answer, only winds so harsh that the rain seemed to be moving horizontally, a thousand tiny needles running at Hob. No sensible person would be out on a night like this, but Hob never claimed to be sensible. For all he knew, his friend had long since disappeared already, and here he was like a proper fool walking blindly in the middle of a storm. If he were to die out here trying to mend things between them, then so be it. He had died for lesser things.

A light shone in the distance, perhaps a lamp by a house or another tavern. In the pouring rain it was hard to be sure. Hob squinted at it.

It was unlikely that his friend went somewhere with more people, but perhaps Hob could take shelter for a while and get his bearings before thinking of what to do next. The light got closer, and above the rain and wind there was the faint sound of wheels. And hooves. Not a tavern, then. A carriage.

***

Dream was soaked to the skin as he walked briskly down the dark roads. He had neglected to take his coat and hat back at The White Horse, and his present clothes offered very little protection against the rain. None of that mattered, however, as he would be returning to his realm soon.

He could sense Hob Gadling’s thoughts, daydreams of finding him and forcing him into a confrontation. Foolish. No one forces the King of Dreams and Nightmares into anything. The human would soon learn that. He even had the audacity to follow even when Dream had already—

Dream stopped walking and furrowed his eyebrows. He could no longer sense Hob Gadling’s thoughts.

Perhaps Hob had returned to The White Horse. Dream closed his eyes and extended his reach, paying conscious attention to the thoughts of humans in the vicinity.

A sense of fear. Panic. Followed by the rumbling of carriage wheels and the splash of hooves on puddles.

“...wasn’t my fault. Damned idiot was in the middle of the road. And this storm makes driving near impossible. No one will know. No one will know…”

Dream opened his eyes, feeling his lips curl as rage rose within him.

The carriage was approaching him now, the driver’s frantic daydreams of escaping bitter on his tongue.

Dream turned and stepped in the horse’s path. He reached out to the animal’s consciousness and gave it the sweetest of dreams, urging it to move to the side of the road and fall asleep.

The driver cried out in surprise as the carriage swerved, and Dream reached out and ripped the door off its hinges, grabbing the man by the shirt and hauling him out of the vehicle.

“Where is he?” Dream growled, his teeth sharpening and his fingers turning into claws as he held the man inches off the ground.

“W-W-W-What?” The man trembled in fear and his eyes appeared to bulge out of his head. “Who are you?”

Dream had neither the time nor patience for this. He reached into the driver’s mind, barely holding his Nightmare form at bay.

Through the blinding sheets of rain, a man appeared on the road. The driver swerved in a panic, the horse’s hooves barely managing to stay upright on the slippery pavement. The side of the carriage slammed against the man with a sickening thump. The driver looked over his shoulder to see the man’s broken form on the side of the road, unmoving. He urged his horse to move faster.

An inhuman snarl rose out of Dream, and he flung the man away lest he rip him to pieces.

Dream used his sand to reach the place from the driver’s memory, not wanting to waste another moment.

He arrived at the side of the road and immediately cast his gaze down the length of it. A bolt of lightning flashed overhead, and for a moment the street was bright as day, illuminating the broken figure lying a few feet away from Dream.

Hob Gadling lay motionless, his neck bent at an angle that was unnatural for humans. A pool of blood was growing beneath his head, slowly getting washed away by the rain. His eyes were open, staring unblinking at the sky as rain fell on them. Lifeless.

“Hob!” Dream rushed to his side, kneeling to inspect if there was anything to be done.

A coldness gripped him that had nothing to do with the storm. Something squeezed in his chest and he could not seem to draw breath, vaguely aware that he should not even need to.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he reminded himself over and over again that Hob would return. He must. He had died many times before, Dream knew this. And yet, he could not stop the fear building up within him.

He had not asked Hob Gadling tonight if he still wished to live, and his frantic mind tried to recall if that was a requirement for his sister’s gift to remain in effect. But he had not asked that question last century, and yet Hob still lived. So he must continue to do so. He must. He must.

Dream carefully cradled Hob’s body against his, as if he could protect Hob from being taken by his sister if he held him in his arms. The tears were running freely down his face now, spilling from his eyes as quickly as the rain washed them away.

He clenched his jaw and willed himself to calm down. He was better than this.

He looked down at the situation once more and noticed that there was no longer any blood; the rain had washed it all away and no more was coming from Hob’s body. The bleeding had stopped.

Dream put his fingers on Hob’s neck, holding his breath in anticipation.

There.

A pulse.

Weak, but very much there. Followed by another. And another.

Hob’s eyes had rolled back in his head, and Dream closed his eyelids to protect them from the rain. The bones in his neck had not completely healed yet, but his mind had returned enough that Dream was able to reach into his subconscious and pluck out the location of where his current home was.

Dream did not let go of Hob even as he summoned his sand to transport them away from the storm.

***

It did not take long to get Hob changed into a dry set of clothes more comfortable for rest, and he looked almost entirely healed by the time Dream lay him on his bed under layers of warm blankets.

Dream could have left as soon as he had taken Hob to his home, but Hob had only died because he had followed him, and it was Dream’s responsibility to ensure that the human was in safe conditions before he left. That was all.

He stood beside the bed and looked down at Hob’s form, particularly the rise and fall of his chest indicating that he was breathing again. Hob’s face looked peaceful like this. Unlike how it was when Dream left him at The White Horse.

A twinge of guilt ached in Dream’s chest, but it only grew into a conflicted feeling that made him restless. A friendship with a human was a dangerous thing, and it might be kinder to sever his connection with Hob rather than give him false hope about what could never be.

He stared at Hob’s face, committing each detail to memory for it might be the last time he would lay eyes on it. Hob would not want to see him again, not after what had befallen him because of his search for Dream.

Hob’s eyes fluttered open.

Dream flinched and immediately turned his back, not wanting anger to be the last thing he sees in those eyes before they part. “I was just leaving.”

He took a step forward—

“Wait!” Hob’s voice stopped him. “What… What happened? I was…”

Dream stood still, keeping his back turned. He should be leaving now. Returning to his realm. But the image was still fresh in his mind, of Hob lying lifeless under the rain mere minutes after he left.

“You brought me back home.”

There was surprise and wonder in Hob’s voice, and Dream could tell that a question was coming next, one that he might not be capable of answering. He took another step to leave—

“Wait, hold on!”

Dream saw Hob’s thoughts as vividly as if they were his own, and he turned around just in time to catch Hob before he fell to the floor.

“You are not well,” he said firmly, holding Hob around the waist while Hob had his hands on his shoulders. “Your limbs have not fully recovered, and you must not go walking around in your state.” He guided Hob back to sit on the bed, his eyes scanning his body once more for any remaining injuries and fortunately finding none.

“Okay, okay. But at least let me apologise.” Hob’s grip was strong on his wrist, and his eyes never left Dream’s.

Dream furrowed his eyebrows, unsure if he had understood correctly. “Apologise?”

Hob nodded, still keeping his hold on Dream. “I never meant to offend you. I only said we were friends because, well, aren’t we?” He shook his head and laughed nervously, “God, I’m doing this all wrong. Let me try again, yeah? I was dead a few minutes ago,” he glanced up at Dream with a smile.

“Indeed, so you must rest—”

“No, listen,” Hob's grip momentarily tightened, and his voice was laced with urgency. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, it was with a calm certainty. “I said you were lonely, because I wanted to say that I understand. I'm lonely, too. But our meetings… They give me something to look forward to, you know? No matter how many of my loved ones die around me, I can always rely on seeing you again. And you… You brought my body back here, now. Even after you said you would take your leave of me. Surely that counts for something, right?” Hob's hesitant smile was sincere, and his gaze held no resentment.

“I have been cruel to you.” Dream felt something twist inside him at the admission. “How could you still want my companionship? Did you not speak with anger when I walked out of the tavern?”

Hob's eyes were gentle when he spoke. “You fed me in 1689, dined with me when no one would even look at me. You defended me from Lady Johanna when you could have escaped while I had her attention. And now you came back for me, knowing that I would still live even if you had left my body outside.”

I needed to see it for myself, Dream thought with a certainty that surprised him. I had to see you alive again.

“You were cruel for a moment there, aye. But I only spoke angrily because I was frustrated that you weren't allowing yourself the same feeling of companionship that I get in our meetings.” Hob’s thumb was stroking soothingly over Dream's wrist. “You deserve friendship. Not just from me, but I happily give it to you.”

“I…” Dream began to speak, but Hob’s thumb over his sleeve was making him wish that it was on his skin instead. “I am not good with companions. It is more natural for me to be alone.”

“Not here.” Hob’s grip tightened around his wrist, and Dream realised that Hob was holding him not out of fear that he would leave again, but because he wanted Dream to be reassured of his presence. “You will never know a lonely day again. Never here. Not while I draw breath.”

Dream stared at Hob for a long moment, and Hob returned his gaze without wavering. Breathing felt difficult once more, but somehow it wasn't the unpleasantness of what he had felt earlier.

“Morpheus,” he heard himself say, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“Morpheus,” he said more clearly. “That is my name.”

Hob's mouth parted and his eyes shone like the brightest stars. “Morpheus…” he tested the name. His tongue swept along his bottom lip as if he felt nervous to speak it aloud, and Dream's eyes tracked the movement.

Dream slowly sat down next to Hob, never breaking their gaze. “What I said before was true. I do not need your companionship.”

Hob’s face fell in surprise and confusion.

Dream gently removed his wrist from Hob’s grip, and reached up to cup Hob’s face in his hand. “But I want it. I want you. Hob Gadling.” He lightly ran his thumb over Hob's bottom lip, following the path that Hob's tongue had traced.

Hob’s pupils grew wide, and in an instant his lips were upon Dream's, soft and firm and urgent.

Dream held Hob’s face in his hands, Hob clutched at his coat. Their kiss was a dam breaking, bursting forth beyond their control and sweet with desperation. Dream bit Hob’s bottom lip, slipping his tongue in when Hob gasped against his mouth.

They pushed and pulled like tides compelled by the moon, the slide of their tongues stoking the heat growing around them.

A rumble rose from Dream’s chest, and in an instant he had pushed Hob down onto the mattress, feeling Hob's growing hardness against his own.

“Fuck,” Hob broke the kiss to gasp, throwing his head back, his fingernails digging deep into Dream’s shoulders.

“Is that what you wish, Hob Gadling?” Dream smirked, only just managing to keep his voice from wavering.

Hob looked up at him and grinned. “I already got my wish.”

“Make another.” Dream punctuated the phrase with a hard grind of his hips.

“Ah–!” Hob squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth parted and his chest heaving. “Christ…” he whispered, visibly willing himself to remain composed.

“Look at me.” Dream lightly traced a fingernail from the soft flesh behind Hob's ear down along his jawline, earning him a shiver that he must remember to draw from Hob again later.

Hob opened his eyes, and Dream nearly lost himself in the intensity of the daydreams he saw within them.

He clenched his teeth and his hips moved of their own accord to buck against Hob, drawing a groan from both of them.

“In my realm, we shall accomplish all of those and more.” This time he could not stop the tremble in his words, and he crashed his mouth on Hob’s, grinding down relentlessly and drinking in every gasp and moan that slipped from Hob’s lips.

Hob’s hands found their way to Dream's arse, pulling him down while thrusting his own hips upwards, sobs of pleasure and frustration emanating from his throat.

Dream was not doing much better; his nerves were alight and his patience was wearing thin. With a wave of his hand, he vanished all their clothing into the Dreaming.

A surprised moan escaped Hob; he was a steady presence beneath Dream, undulating and soft and warm and so very much alive.

In the far distance of Dream’s mind, he began to reconsider his earlier statement of not needing Hob Gadling’s companionship. But for now there were more urgent matters to attend to. Dream wants, and he saw that same fervour in Hob’s eyes, in Hob’s blunt nails raking across his back.

Dream wrapped a hand around their cocks, and the whine that came out of Hob sent sparks down his spine. Dream was unable to stop his own gasps and moans, and he found that he did not mind.

Hob gripped the back of his neck and pulled him down into a searing kiss. Their tongues stroked each other in time with Dream's hand around them, and it wasn't long before Hob tensed and his thighs began to tremble.

“Morpheus,” he panted, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cold brought on by the storm. “Please…”

Dream brushed his lips against Hob's ear. “Hob Gadling.” He bit down on Hob's earlobe.

“Morpheus!” Hob arched his back. “Fuck–!”

Dream tightened his grip and twisted, and Hob reached his peak with a wail that was accompanied by a flash of lightning through the window.

Hob shook against him, and the feeling of his warm spend on their cocks pushed Dream over the edge, and he finished with a deep groan muffled in the crook of Hob's neck.

They held each other for a long moment, catching their breaths through the aftershocks. The storm still raged outside, but Dream hardly noticed it as he lay his hand on Hob's chest, feeling the steadfast rhythm of a heartbeat against his palm.

Then Hob’s hand was carding through his hair. “You're beautiful… Always wanted to say…” Hob's voice sounded heavy with sleep.

Dream got up just enough to smile down at Hob. “Perhaps meeting more than once in a century would be preferable.”

Hob's eyes were already closed, but he smiled. “Thought you'd never ask…” His hand slowed down and stilled on Dream's back, strong and warm and reassuring.

Dream pressed his forehead against Hob’s, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Then he closed his eyes and prepared to meet Hob in his realm.

---

Notes:

Hob's line “You will never know a lonely day again. Never here. Not while I draw breath.” is from a D&D campaign of Dimension 20, "A Court of Fey and Flowers". I haven't seen the entire campaign, but I really loved that line.

It's said by a goblin named Captain KP Hob. Which. I love that.

Here's a Tumblr post with a transcription of that entire monologue.

And here's the excerpt that I incorporated in this fic (spoilers for the campaign):

"There is one injury of yours that must be amended. You said that you felt alone. Never here. Not while I draw breath. I renounce the Goblin Court in its entirety and foreswear all oaths of loyalty to king and kin. If you are orphaned, then so am I, and you will never know a lonely day again, as long as I draw breath."

---

(Dreamling Week Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[darkgodcomplex]

Sleepover

Wally X Reader

Content warning: Body horror, psychological horror, scopophobia, violence

AO3 LINK

"This'll be so much fun!" Wally grins at you as you step into Home, duffel bag in tow. While yes, you are excited, you also are nervous.

"This is going to be the best sleepover!" Julie chimes in.

The gang truly is all here, you're the last one to arrive, and the sleepover is in full tilt. Julie sits crossed legged painting Sally's nails, Poppy is dressed to nines in her rainbow pajamas while Howdy wears more conservative plaid pajamas, Eddie eagerly listens to Frank talk about a butterfly book he recently read, and Wally, ever the pleasant host, leads you around the party.

That's not to forget Barnaby, who is already passed out in the corner.

The nervous pit in your stomach continues to gnaw at you, even as Julie tugs you in to get your nails painted. You've never spent the night at Wally's house before, it's certainly a new experience.

"What color do you want?" Julie asks, pulling out a bag chalk full of nail polish. "I brought my whole collection!" You admire the red color of her own nails while Sally also shows off her bright orange ones.

"Umm..." You're rather indecisive, plus there are so many colors to choose from.

"I just ran out of black though, Frank likes to use it." Julie adds.

"What other color am I supposed to paint my nails?" Frank scoffs, throwing a hand up. Eddie giggles along.

"I think you'd look nice with yellow polish." Poppy says to Frank.

"Oh, yes!" Eddie practically jumps at the thought. "Do yellow, Frank!" Frank merely rolls his eyes, a blush darkening his cheeks.

"I think this blue would look nice on you." Wally nudges you, noticing your indecision. You grasp the color he pointed out, staring down at it. It's a beautiful midnight blue, he truly did pick out a suiting color. You shouldn't be surprised though, painters do have a good eye for that.

Julie grabs the polish from you, "Perfect!" You stick out your hands for her as she leans down to get to work.

You all continue to idly chatter as Julie finishes up your nails.

"And done!" She beams. You admire the careful work she's done.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Howdy digs through his bag. "I brought some snacks!"

He tosses out candy bars and other treats. You can't exactly eat with your nails still wet, so you watch as the others dig in and blow on your nails.

"Should we wake up Barnaby?" Poppy frets. "He would be sorely disappointed if he missed out."

"Let me wake the big oaf." Wally gives a wink, sauntering over to the sleeping Barnaby. Leaning down, he shake's Barnaby's arm.

Nothing happens.

"Barnaby!" Wally shakes him harder. "Wake up!"

Howdy sighs, "I guess he doesn't want treats-"

"Did someone say treats!" In an instant, Barnaby is up, tail wagging. Everyone laughs.

"I should've known." Wally rolls his eyes with a grin as Barnaby races to get food. He turns to his seat near you.

As Barnaby quickly chomps down his food, Julie fiddles more with her nail polish.

"Wally, we should paint your nails!" Julie suddenly shouts.

Wally merely laughs, "I'm an artist, but I don't think that's really for me."

"Oh, come on!" Sally tries to convince him. "We can also get Eddie and Barnaby in on it too!"

"I feel like I'm already colorful enough." Barnaby says between bites.

"Oh Barnaby, but don't you want more colors?" Julie clasps her hands together. "This is perfect! I can do Eddie's nails and Sally can do Barnaby's nails!"

"Then... I can paint your nails for you, Wally." You say quietly, looking up at him. "If you want, of course."

He looks at you for a second, pausing before quickly nodding. "Yeah, you can paint my nails."

As Julie sets up to paint Eddie's nails a deep pink and Sally goes to Barnaby with a bright purple, Wally kneels in front of you, holding his hands out.

"Umm..." You look at the bag of nail polish. "What color do you want?"

"Why don't we match?" He smiles, nodding his head towards the midnight blue.

"Okay!" You feel your heart flutter in excitement as you grip the polish, dipping the brush in and smearing the paint onto his first nail. You're not very good and hope he doesn't mind.

As the others chat, Wally leans down to your ear to whisper, "Do you like the color I picked out for you?"

You can't help but blush as you feel his breath on your ear. "Yes!" You say a little too quickly. "I mean... it's really nice!"

He smiles, "I'm glad."

As you work, you chew on your lip, trying to make sure your strokes are even. You nudge closer, trying to get a closer look, but instead end up spilling the nail polish all over Wally.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" You gasp, grabbing at the bottle of polish.

He doesn't seem phased, but you still feel bad. "It's really okay."

"Here, let me go get something to clean you off." You stand. "Where are your washcloths?"

"In the bathroom down the hall." He gestures. You hurry down the hall.

Throwing open cabinets, you search through, trying to get back before the nail polish completely ruins his nice clothing. You know how much time Wally puts in to look nice, you'd hate to destroy one of his favorite jackets. As you search, you hear an odd creaking noise.

At first, you think it's just one of the others that came to help to search, but it quickly becomes apparent that no one is there.

You turn your head, eyebrow up as the noise lingers outside the door.

"Hello?"

You stand, listening to the pacing and squeaking of floorboards. Upon peaking outside the door though, you only find an empty hallway.

The noise stops.

Shaking your head, you turn back, finding the washcloth and quickly heading back down to everyone else.

Wally has taken his jacket off and Julie has the nail polish remover ready as you hand them the washcloth.

"Won't that damage it?" Frank asks as Julie pours the remover onto the jacket.

Julie shrugs, "Beats me!"

"Oh, brother." Wally laughs.

"I really am sorry, Wally!" You fret, watching as Julie haphazardly dabs at the stain.

"Don't worry about it." Wally leans back on his arms. "It's just a jacket, not the end of the world."

"I think we should let it soak." Julie decides, setting down the jacket. You glance over at Wally, who seems unphased by this. You hope his jacket turns out okay, maybe you'll buy him a new one if it doesn't turn out.

"What're we doing next?" Barnaby asks, waving his hands in an attempt to dry his nails faster.

Sally gives a sudden burst of energy, "OH! Let's play a game!"

"What kind of game?" Poppy tilts her head.

With a mischievous grin, Sally points her finger. "Truth or Dare!" She crosses his arms. "Here! I can go first! Poppy, ask me one!"

"Truth or-“

"Dare!" Sally doesn't even let Poppy finish her sentence.

Poppy thinks on this for a second, mulling over her options. "I dare you to... make up a dance!"

Sally laughs, "That's easy!" She quickly swivels her hips, lifting up a leg to an usual dance that is oddly reminiscent of Elvis' dance moves. Her shoulders go into the movement too as she hums a song to the beat of her dance.

When she's done, she takes a bow, which makes everyone clap.

"Wow! That looked rehearsed!" Howdy compliments.

"Thank you, thank you!" Sally takes another bow. "Now, however, it's my turn! Howdy, Truth or Dare!"

"Me?" He blinks. "I suppose truth."

"What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?"

Howdy hum's and haw's for a second, thinking it over. "Well... one time at the market, I was helping someone find their item... and then kept asking for apple floss! I was so confused... I told them that I don't think we carry flavored floss, but they kept insisting that we had this apple floss." He shakes his head. "It wasn't until they left that I realized that they were saying applesauce!" You laugh along with everyone else.

"Wait a second," Wally scratches his head. "Is applesauce made of-"

"Oh brother it's the pie thing again." Frank sighs.

"Applesauce is made of apples, Wally." Poppy explains politely.

Wally tilts his head, "But-"

"We're not getting into this again!" Sally interjects. "Ask away, Howdy!"

"Julie, Truth or Dare?"

Julie flips her hair, giving a smile. "Truth."

"What's your favorite color?"

Sally sighs, "You're doing this wrong!"

Julie pauses, eyes going wide. "Well... How can I just pick one color! I know I love red and pink, but what about green and blue and oh! I almost forgot about purple! Then we also need to talk about shades, do I like pastel or neon? There's just too many options."

"Wow, I didn't realize how big of a decision it really is." Barnaby seems to contemplate all this.

"It is!" Julie agrees. "You can't just have one favorite color."

"Black." Frank says. "Look? See how easy that was?"

"A dull black or a bright black?" Julie asks. "Is it more grayish? Blueish?"

Frank sighs.

Julie shakes her head. "See? You really can't come to a conclusion. Anyway, Eddie! Truth or Dare?"

"Uhhh...." He looks lost. Eventually Frank nudges him, trying to get him to just answer. "Dare, I guess."

"I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in the room." Julie says, a sly smirk upon her lips.

Eddie gives a big dumb smile. Without hesitation, he leans over and plants a gentle kiss onto Frank's lips. It's barely a peck, but it's enough to leave Frank red with embarrassment.

"Wally, Truth or Dare?" Eddie asks, grin still plastered to his face.

"Truth, please." Wally interlocks his fingers, waiting for his question.

"Who's your favorite?"

Wally is silent, half lidded eyes glancing at you before sighing and shaking his head. "None of you! I love all of my friends equally, of course!"

Barnaby laughs, "What a Wally answer."

"Well, I'm Wally, so it makes sense." He shrugs, looking over to you. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth." You say, sitting up straighter.

"What are you afraid of?"

His eyes seem to pierce into your soul as he leans forward, watching for your reaction. A chill follows down your spine, but you're not really sure why. After all, it's a harmless question, right?

"I don't really like the dark." You explain, trying to think. "Oh, there's also the feeling of being watched. I get that a lot when I'm alone, but I don't really like it."

"Oh, I get that too!" Julie says.

"Me too." Frank adds. Some of the others nod. Wally, however, seems to just watch you with a smile and soft eyes.

Truth or Dare continues, which results in all kinds of shenanigans. Barnaby ends up eating a donut with ketchup on it, Frank spills his guts about his celebrity crush, Poppy reveals that sometimes she just buys cakes from Howdy instead of baking them herself, Eddie gets a mustache drawn on in sharpie. Eventually, though, it comes back to you.

"Truth or Dare?" Sally asks you.

"Dare." You decide to be bold this time.

Sally grin, "I dare you to go into Wally's basement... alone."

Even Wally seems to be surprised by this, blinking at her with wide eyes. You slowly swallow.

"I don't think I've ever been in Wally's basement." Poppy says.

"Me either." Eddie chimes in as well.

"It's really damp and dark down there." Wally chuckles with a wave of his hand. "Are you sure you want to go down there?" He asks, looking at you.

"No shame in chickening out." Barnaby shrugs.

Your stomach does somersaults, flopping nervously. As much as you don't want to go down, you don't want to be the chicken.

"No, I'll go down." You say, standing. "Show me the way, Wally."

Every stands at the top to the steps of the basement, which recede down into total darkness. You can't even see the bottom from up here.

"What exactly do you use your basement for, Wally?" You ask, licking your lips nervously.

"Storage." Wally replies. "Mostly, at least."

"Oh, okay."

There's a pause. You realize everyone is waiting for you to go down.

"Well, here I go."

As you start down the steps, you wish you had asked for a flashlight. There is no way you're going to be able to see anything when you reach the bottom. However, if you head back up those steps now, you know there is no way you'll be able to convince yourself to come back down later.

As you walk, it feels like someone is walking down behind you. There are two sets of footsteps on the stairs, despite you knowing that no one would've come down with you.

When you reach the bottom, you stand in darkness, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the light. The noise behind you reaches the bottom as well and the sound of footsteps continues, moving along the edges of the basement.

There's a popping noise as well, though you're not sure where that's coming from either. You get that odd feeling that someone is watching you.

You can't take this any longer. You sprint back up the steps, relieved to see the familiar looks of friends' faces when you reach the top.

"You did it!" Wally celebrates.

"Well, you weren't down there for very long." Sally says. "But, you still did it."

"It's getting late anyway." Julie yawns. "Shouldn't we be going to bed?"

You all head back over to the living room, where everyone starts to set up their sleeping bags. Frank and Julie lay theirs next to each other, Howdy, Poppy, and Sally lay theirs out in another part of the living room, and in a different corner Barnaby and Eddie set up.

"Want to sleep near me?" Wally asks, sleeping bag in hand.

"Oh, yes!" You say. "I figured you were going to sleep on the couch?"

"No, no." Wally shakes his head. "You can have the couch. I want you to be comfortable."

"That's really nice." You blush.

You throw your sleeping bag onto the couch and Wally lays his onto the ground below it. You think it's comforting that he'll be right there all night.

Everyone snuggles into their blankets as Wally shuts off the light. Slowly, you hear everyone's breathing soften as one by one they fall asleep. Your eyelids grow heavy as you soon join them.

You wake up a while later. It's still dark, but something definitely feels off. You lay there awake for a while, trying to figure out exactly what is wrong, until it hits you.

There's no sound of breathing.

Is no one here? You stand up, trying to make sure you don't step on Wally in his sleeping bag only to realize your efforts were fruitless. He's not there.

In fact, no one is here.

"Hello?" You call, heading for the light switch. You flick it, but the lights don't come on.

Creaking sounds from the upstairs part of the house. It sounds like someone is walking around up there. You're not overly familiar with Wally's house, but you're able to find the stairs, heading up.

"Wally?" You call, desperate for any kind of response.

You get none.

The creaking continues though, getting louder the closer you get.

"Guys?" You call again. "What are doing up here? I thought we were sleeping?"

The noise leads you to a room at the end of the hall. Light spills out from the bottom of the door, illuminating part of the hallway. As you grasp the doorknob, the noise stops.

Pushing open the door, you scream at the sight inside. It's all your friends... well, kind of.

They're grotesque, body parts snapped and bent every which way, jaws broken and mouths open in agony. They writhe about, crawling by digging their nails into the wooden floor.

Worst of all, though, is their eyes. Bloodshot and wide, their irises are stretched thin from how wide their pupils are. They're all staring at you.

Then, they start to crawl towards you.

You wake with a gasp, sitting up as your hands fumble to find something sturdy. You breathe hard, chest falling heavy as tears prick your eyes.

"What's wrong, are you okay?"

You glance down to see Wally still awake, book sitting in lap with a small reading light.

It's only then that you notice the warm wet feeling. You groan, reaching a hand down to confirm what you fear. Your pants are soaking wet, sticking to your legs uncomfortably as they start to cool off. You pray that you didn't ruin Wally's couch.

"Are you okay?" Wally repeats, standing up in a panic.

"I'm okay." You nod, feeling the tips of your ears go warm. "It's just... um." You flip your blanket off of yourself.

"Oh!" He sounds relieved. "That's no biggie, we can just wash it." He glances around at everyone sleeping. "Just you and me, no one has to know."

You slowly nod.

Wally is very sweet and helpful, even giving you a pair of his pajamas to wear while he washes yours. He brings another blanket downstairs for you to use.

"Thank you for all your help." You say, sitting down on the couch. He sits next to you.

"No problem." He leans in, nuzzling at your ear. "I like to take care of you."

You laugh, "I'm also sorry about your jacket. I wish I could take care of you for once."

Wally merely smiles, "Don't worry, all will be repaid in the end."

You're not sure why, but that makes your hair stand on end. When you eventually crawl back onto the couch and Wally lays at the ground, you find that for some reason sleep won't take you.

You feel like someone's watching you.

[veryace-ficrecs]

Prompto/Ignis Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

third time's the charm by greyskiesblack - Rated T

The last thing Prompto expects when he finds a Mr Flopsy toy is a date, but that's exactly what he gets.

For What It's Worth by saisei - Rated T

Genetically engineered clones weren't made to live long. When Prompto finds out he has just months to live, he calls Ignis. Ignis will know what to do.

Come Find Me by saisei - Rated T

Prompto sees Ignis' soul-light the moment they first meet; Ignis doesn't. Prompto knows that not everyone's guaranteed a happy life with their soul-partner, but he's glad to be able to be friends. He doesn't mind knowing he can never have more.

i saw you in the stars by chthonicheart - Rated T

To: Noctis 11:02 AM did i happen to get married to anyone last night? To: Noctis 11:02 AM particularly, ignis?

The Train by Selador - Rated T

Someone summons daemons in the middle of the train in Insomnia, and Ignis isn't sure if he wants to date the blond guy who helps out or recruit him. Fortunately, he's good at multitasking.

Momentum by Asidian - Rated T

Just the sight of him, standing there holding a cup of coffee, barrels through Prompto's brain like a puppy excited about going out for a walk – and before he even realizes what he's doing, he's fumbling for the camera. He snaps five shots, in quick succession: Ignis looking into the distance, expression soft and preoccupied. Ignis lifting the coffee. Ignis with his lips on the rim, taking a tentative taste. Ignis closing his eyes as though to savor it. Ignis with his eyes open again, looking directly toward the camera. Wait, thinks Prompto, as the last one burrows its way into his thoughts and starts setting off alarm bells. What?

Dragon Blush by Selador - Rated G

Dragons always protect their hoard.

You Say Rotato (and I Say I Love You) by lithos_saeculum - Rated G

Prompto, brainwashed by late-night infomercials, starts buying Ignis useless kitchen gadgets. Surely this can't end well. Or can it?

until you make me move by taizi - Rated T

This moment is one Ignis will keep until it sits in his memory the way Prompto’s camera sits in his hands; well-loved and weathered from being picked up and admired over and over and over again.

How to Break a Deal With the Devil by ohmyfae - Rated T

Prompto Argentum was cursed at birth by a bored trickster god, giving him inhuman, glowing red eyes. His curse earned him censure and ostracism from the town in which he grew up, but he stubbornly refused the god every time he appeared to offer Prompto a wager as a way out.

Then Prompto met Ignis Scientia, a blind traveler from Insomnia with secrets of his own, and with their burgeoning friendship, Prompto found that he suddenly had much more to lose...

Hold Me Tight, Or Don't by countingpaperstars - Rated T

It was then that he saw him - the most gorgeous person he’d ever laid eyes on, leaning against the bar and laughing openly at something his friend next to him was saying. His hair was spiked up, like many of the other patrons', and he’d somehow squeezed into the tightest pair of jeans ever created, a purple coeurl-print shirt stretched across his broad shoulders like sin.   In which Prompto finally meets Noctis' advisor Ignis, but to both of their surprise, they've met before.

The Short Double-Life Of Ignis Scientia by ohmyfae - Rated T

Ignis Scientia has promised Noct that he'll go out and meet his new friend, Prompto Argentum. Just for an afternoon, of course, to make sure that the strange, disconcertingly cheerful teenager is truly everything he seems to be.

Eight hours later, Ignis is sitting in Clarus Amicitia's office, covered in glitter and body paint. How the hell did it end up like this?

Mutually Exclusive, Collectively Exhaustive by whimsicottly - Rated G

“Give it to me straight. Does Ignis hate me?” “Yep,” Noctis says. “Wait, what?!” Prompto struggles to not fall out of his chair. It takes him a second to recompose himself. “I mean, of course! I knew that.” “That explains why he watches out for you in battle, takes the time to learn about your interests, and makes excuses to spend time with you,” Noctis, the traitor, continues. “Good job figuring it out.” “When you put it that way… “

If the Strain Proves too Much by saltslimes - Rated T

Prompto knows, on some sort of principle, that Ignis will not kill him. Consciously, unconsciously, whatever. But practice and principle are two different things.

[sevenf1ng3rs]

His Burden: Chapter 3

Chapter 3: “So I guess I’m the exception”

Word Count: 1.4K

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader

Genres: Innocent!Reader, Troubled!Namjoon, Blossoming Relationship, Big Secret, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Humor.

Rating: 18+, Mature

Warnings: Smut (breast play, teasing, dirty talk, grinding), Angst (rejection, unresolved feelings)

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

Namjoon leads the both of you to his car. You shyly walk beside him, excited but nervous for what may come.

He presses his keys, and the most expensive car on the street lights up and unlocks for the two of you. 

He has an Audi R8? Is this 50 Shades of Grey or something?

Namjoon’s arm reaches swiftly past you, opening your door before hopping into the passenger seat. Before he buckles himself in, he reaches across the expanse of the car, taking your seatbelt in his hands and buckling it for you. You feel the heat of his body as he reaches across your lap, the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Ready?” he asks, turning the car on while staring intensely into your eyes.

You get lost in his eyes, forgetting to respond.

“I'll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, reversing the car and speeding towards his apartment.

The air in the car is thick, the radio playing softly, not nearly enough to mask the tension brewing between you. His arm is placed on the center console, close to your thigh. You stare at his extensive and lengthy fingers, beginning God for him to grab it. For him to hold you and tease your excitement.

You want to speak to him but can’t seem to find your words while being so close to him. Glancing at him every few seconds, you take the time to admire his side profile. His nose is perfectly sloped, almost cute in nature, but the rest of his face is intense. With low brows and a sharp jawline, the contrast within his features only makes him more attractive. 

“See something you like?” he asks with a smirk.

Your body language speaks for you as you stare into his eyes and try to stop yourself from nodding yes. It’s clear that he knows what's really going through your mind as you blush.

All too soon, you pull into the parking lot of his apartment building. You take note that it's the most expensive complex in the city.

I wonder what he does for a living?

He parks and opens the door for you, gentlemanly taking your hand and leading you to the elevator inside. He presses the top floor, a sign that he owns the penthouse in the building. 

The elevator ride seems to take hours. The heat in the room is palpable, and you worry he can hear your heartbeat. 

How is he so collected? I can barely stand at this rate. 

The elevator doors open to a large foyer with a spiraling staircase and many dark paintings and artwork. You’re greeted with a sizable 15th-century statue of a naked woman, which Michelangelo may have created. The house's fur is impressive, with a long white leather couch. Across the scene is a large painting in place of where the tv would typically stand. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Namjoon asks, approaching her slowly.

“A water is fine, thank you,” you reply, sitting on his couch.

“Do you do this with all your dates?” you call from across the room mockingly.

“I haven’t brought a girl home in years,” he says seriously.

“Sure, so I guess I’m the exception,” you state jokingly as he sits beside you.

He hesitates for a moment, as if hes deciding whether or not he should vocalize his thoughts. He mulls it over for a few seconds before deciding to let it out.

“Honestly, I don’t know why, but I feel drawn to you. That day in the coffee shop I-”

He sighs, shaking his head like he knows his actions are ridiculous. 

“Ever since that day in the coffee shop, I couldn't stop thinking about you. Seeing you in the bar today almost felt like fate, and seeing you with that horrible guy just confirms how badly I want you.To take you out, you know. Like on a date. Treat you the way you deserve and stuff…”

He's stumbling over his words, his eyes never truly meeting your face. He looks embarrassed, like he's bracing himself for cold rejection. 

You touch his arm lightly, urging him to look at you. When he slowly raises his head to meet yours, his eyes hold no hint of joking behind them. Honesty and desire are the only emotions behind them.

Holy shit,

You two stare at each other for a few seconds that feel like hours, drinking each other in.

He slowly brings his hand to your face, studying it for signs of uncertainty. When he finds none, he pulls your face closer to his own and rests his soft lips against yours for the briefest of seconds. 

He pulls away, stares at you one last time, and crashes his voluminous lips into yours. The kiss is hungry and full of wild passion. His hands trail down your sides, over your arms, and behind your back, attempting to touch as much of you as he possibly can. You loop your arms around his neck and toy with the short hairs at the nape, pulling at them slightly. He moans into your mouth at the action and gathers you to straddle him on the couch. 

He kisses down your neck as you throw your head back in pleasure, subconsciously grinding down onto him. His tongue intertwined with yours as if it were unnatural for them not to be touching. The saliva from your kiss and the wetness from your insides makes you feel almost submerged in water. Unable to breathe as you can’t pull away from him, he is your lifeline as you share the same breath but also kills you softly.

Fuck

He pulls away, and you feel your breath slowly returning to you. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers into your neck, and you moan in response, urging him on. You feel him toying with the hem of your dress, asking for wordless permission to take it off. He slowly slides it up when he hears no protest, giving you time to stop his hands if you want to. You lift your arms for him to pull the dress over your head. After he does so, he tears his shirt off over his head and tosses it behind the couch to join the pile of clothes you two are steadily creating. 

He looks down at your body as you shyly but determinedly swipe the palms of your hands over his broad chest, trailing lower to feel the clench of his abs as you touch him, stopping tantalizingly above his waistband. 

You can feel the wetness soaking through your underwear, creating a stain on his pants. When you look down at the damage, you shyly look away and apologize in a small voice. 

“Don't apologize; you're too alluring. Everything you do drives me crazy,” He responds, continuing his descent of kisses down your breasts. He places wet kisses over your clothed nipples, causing you to beg for more contact. He reaches behind you and unhooks your bra, then latches his lips against one nipple, teasing it and biting it softly, while his hand works your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You moan his name at the sensation, getting a growl as he switches his ministrations to your other breast. You find the courage to trail your hands below his waistband. When you brush against his dick, he snaps his head at you, looking panicked and upset.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn't have let it go this far. I just… couldn't control myself.” he explains frantically while gently setting you aside and reaching behind the couch to grab your clothes. He passes them to you while throwing his shirt back on and standing up, running his hands through his hair. 

You feel so ashamed. Is it me? Did I do something wrong? You think, putting your clothes back on and feeling the burn behind your eyes start to increase. You run to the foyer and grab your shoes, feeling him running after you.

“No, please, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Please don’t leave,” he grabs your arm before you can grab the doorknob.

You look at him with teary eyes, the embarrassment coursing through you in waves. 

“Please let go of me, Namjoon,” you reply softly.

He lets you go with reluctance, his face expressing nothing but regret and sadness.

“Okay…” he says, watching your back as you walk out the door.

“Fuck!” he screams after you leave, turning around to pour himself a drink.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you run down the hallway and into the elevator. As you step into the taxi you hailed, you lean against the window and close your eyes, hoping that if you concentrate hard enough, this moment will disappear.

Click for Chapter 4

[rachelsimbuild]

Billionaire - Olympus Mansion - The Sim 4

More pictures and information here: rachelsim.mysapo.net/billionaire-olympus-mansion-the-sim-4

💖 Map : Any map you want fit the size lots - Size : 64 x 64

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💖 Inspired by the mythical Mount Olympus in Greek mythology, where the gods resided to create a real paradise for Sim, this truly fantastical home seems to have stepped out of a fairy tale. Nature blends seamlessly with the house, its elegant design exuding sophistication without sacrificing grace. The house also features a luminous garden that shines brightly at night, with rooms that seem almost heavenly. Come and admire this exquisite blend of Greek mythological beauty and sophistication with me.

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