#also a time when i had a tag for him on my other tumblr that was ‘nose’ :-)

[dsireland86]

Anonymous asked:

Can you do a little something about Bad omens, they are playing truth or dare and maybe Noah has to take a body shot off reader that leads to more? If you feel comfortable writing about it ofc! 🤍

So, stupid tumblr app decided to be dumb again and posted this story before it was finished, so I had to pull it and redo it. Also, it strayed from the original concept and plot, because this is what came to mind when I started writing. I'm sorry!!!!! Hope yall like the fixed version. It's a lot better and a little dirty. Sorry... my mind went too far with Noah body shots 🤯

Truth or Dare

Tag list:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @disappearintothegrey @jilliemiw86 @pathion @fear-its-beauty @an0mallly @potterheadquinn @flowery-mess   @bloody-spades

The music was too loud for Noah. He had a pounding headache and was exhausted from the six week run in the U.K they’d just got back from. Day's after returning home, the band's management team insisted on throwing a welcome home party to celebrate the biggest headliner the band had done to date and a number one single. So, he was playing nice and pretending he was enjoying the party. Noah hated it and he was miserable.

"Can you at least look like you're having a good time," Matt complained walking over to meet him. "He can't help it that he has a resting bitch face, Matt. Go easy on him." Noah scowled at Jolly, who just simply smiled. "I want to go home," Noah whined, falling down onto a nearby couch. "I feel you," Folio agreed, sitting down next to him. "Why did you agree to this, shit, Matt?" Noah pouted. "Hey my hands were tied, dude. I wasn't really given an option here. Believe me, I'd rather be somewhere else," "Yeah, like held up in his house watching Grey's Anatomy," Jolly chuckled, pulling his long hair back into a bun. "Don't be hating on my show," Matt muttered, checking his phone. "Great. I've got to go meet upper management. Fuck this shit," turning around and walking away as the others just stayed back, laughing.

Folio sat his beer down on the table and removed his hat to scratch his head. "Poor Matt. He suffers so much for us." "Yeah! He'd better. We make him a lot of money," Noah stated, crossing his arms.

Nicholas came walking over the couches, munching on a banana. The other three just stared at him.

"What the hell, Ruffilo?"

Nick looked over at Jolly. "What?" he shrugged.

"Where at a high class party with caviar and shit and all you can find to put in your mouth is a banana?" Jolly criticized.

"Yeah.Caviar is gross and nothing else looks good," staring at a group of giggling girls that walked by him. Nick just shook his head.

Noah laid his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose, when another group of girls came over to them, dressed as if they were looking to get some. Jolly's eyes widened and Folio just pulled his hat down a little lower.

"Excuse me, we need some help," one of the girls asked, her words partially slurring.

Noah raised his head, slowly, instantly regretting he did.

"Sure. What do you need," he replied, reluctantly.

The girls looked at one another, whispering in the other's ear and giggling.

"It's our friend's birthday, and we're trying to get her to do body shots by playing Truth or Dare, but she's refusing. So, we thought that if we could find some really hot guys, she'd change her mind."

Noah looked over at Jolly, begging him with his eyes to come help. Jolly just hid his grin and shook his head, no.

"I, uh, I don't think I'm qualified," "Do you have chest hair or anything around your belly button area?" one of the girls asked. "What! That’s random." "Lift your shirt up. Let me see," one of the girls ordered.

"No!" "Noah, stop being a pansy and just show the girl your chest. It won't kill you," Jolly blurted out, earning him a heated scowl from Noah. "Will you leave me alone if I do?" Noah fumed at the girl who was about to cause him to snap. "I don't know yet. Show me and I'll tell you."

Noah sighed heavily, lifting his shirt.

"I can't see. You have to lift it higher."

Noah growled, glaring over at Jolly who was fighting his laughter. 

"You're dead, Karlsson," Noah threatened.

Noah lifted a little higher, hating that he was degrading himself this way.

"You're perfect! Come with me," she ordered, grabbing Noah's hand and yanking him off the couch. She and her friend drug Noah behind them as he tried to fight the grip they had on him.

"Hey you two have let me go, like right now!" Noah demanded.

They led him to another part of the venue and into a room filled with more people and louder music that was about half the size as the one they'd just come from

When his eyes landed on her, Noah almost couldn't breathe. She was so damn pretty and had a smile that could soften even the hardest heart. She was wearing a cowboy hat and a sash that read "Birthday Girl," and the moment she turned and looked at him was the moment his life changed forever.

"We found one," the two girls that drug him over told her.

The girl looked from her friends around the table to Noah, obviously very confused.

"What are you talking about? Found one what?"

She shyly looked over at Noah and smiled.

"A fucking hot guy with tattoos that you can take your first body shot off of the next time you spin a dare."

The girl groaned and threw her hands over her face.

"No! Oh god, please tell me you didn't just go out there and hunt down some random guy to bring over here to play a stupid high school game!"

The two girls were about to protest, but Noah beat them to it.

"No! Actually, I wanted to come. They said it was your birthday, so I thought I'd come over and hang for a little bit."

The girls grew quiet, laughing amongst themselves.

"I'm Noah," he introduced himself, leaning in a lot closer than he meant to. He could smell her skin, the scent of rainwater bamboo engulfing his senses.

"Y/N," she replied. Noah smiled, and all Y/N could think was, "Oh shit."

Noah was hot. His lean frame, covered by a white hoodie, towered over her. She would’ve given anything to touch his body, to dig her nails into his flesh and grip the arms that would hold her down, and run her fingers through his short, anime style haircut. Looking down at his hands, Y/N noticed how big they were and the tattoos that were drawn over his skin. Telling from the ones on his neck, she assumed he had them in many other places too.

"Are you okay?"

Noah's deep voice pulled Y/N from her thoughts. She smiled, nodding her head.

"I'm fine, sorry."

Noah gave a gentle laugh.

"So, Truth or Dare and body shots, huh?"

Y/N groaned. "Shit. Please ignore my stupid friends, okay. I don't know what possessed them,"

"I think your friends are just trying to help you have a good birthday," Noah interrupted, trying to sound positive in hopes of getting what he was secretly yearning for.

Y/N raised an eyebrow

"Someone's being optimistic." "You don't think so?" "No," Y/N shook her head, looking over at the girls who had just taken shots of something. "They always have hidden motives."

Noah reached over and brushed her fingers with the tips of his, hoping to pull that beautiful smile out of her again. This behavior was totally out of character for him. Noah never allowed his feelings for someone he'd just met to affect him the way he was allowing them to right now, and it was only a matter of time before the girl in front of him said or did the wrong or right thing that would make him snap.

Y/N shivered the moment she turned and faced Noah. The heat that spilled from his gaze was enough for her to feel internally, forcing her to clench the muscles of her sex as her arousal soaked her panties.

"Hidden motives are a dangerous game to play," Noah pointed out, unable to look away from the heated look in Y/N's eyes that was causing his dick to harden the longer he continued staring. "It's better to just be truthfully honest and up front, if you don’t, don't you think?"

Y/N swallowed hard, a small smile twitching her lips.

"I do."

The tension between them was thick and sweet, like honey. They way she peered up at Noah through her lashes shot through him like a bullet headed straight for his semi-hard length.

"Hey! Are you playing?"

Noah and Y/N looked over at the table where a group of her friends were crowded, the one yelling at them holding an empty beer bottle. Y/N hesitated before looking at Noah.

"You really don't have to do this. I know this isn't the ideal situation for you, and you have no idea who any of these people are."

"I'll do it." "Really?" Y/N asked, surprised.

"Yeah. It's your birthday, and anything here has to be better than what I was having to suffer through over there,” flicking his head in the direction where he came from. 

Y/N gave Noah a small smile. "Okay, well, if you're sure." "I'm sure," Noah replied, giving Y/N a tight-lipped smile.

This group of friends was nothing like Noah's group of friends. He gave up drinking and the party life years ago, trading it in for video games, movies and anime nights with his friends. This wasn't his scene, and he was starting to believe it wasn't hers either. They watched the bottle spin over and over, going through four people before it was finally Y/N's turn. Praying hard for a miracle that it wouldn't land on a dare, she was severely disappointed when it did. But with only one look at Noah, her perspective changed quickly. Noah wasn't surprised when her friends dared her to take body shots off of him. It was the reason for the grin on his face. The first one that happened was awkward for him to do with everyone watching, but he kept his eyes on Y/N, doing his best to block everyone else out. Standing in front of her, wondering if their night together was really over that quickly, Noah acted on impulse and closed the slight gap between the two of them. Lifting Y/N's chin, his eyes darted between hers and he saw the very thing he was looking for flash across them.

"I can't believe you're letting me do this again," Y/N grinned, watching Noah remove his hoodie this time. "It's your birthday, Pretty Girl. Birthday girls always get what they want,” Noah stated, lying back on the two tables that had been pulled together.

With a bottle of tequila in one hand and a dish of limes in the other, Y/N sat them down on the table next to the salt. Noah kept his eyes locked on her, watching every expression her face made. Taking a risk, he reached over, underneath her mini skirt, and slid his hand between her things hearing the small, slight gasp that quickly turned into a whimper. Noah raised an eyebrow, clenching his jaw as his huge hand grasped the inside of her thigh tighter before moving a little further up. Y/N didn't stop him, but instead, moved closer to keep their moment more discreet.

"Your thighs are so fucking soft and warm," Noah praised. His big soft hand with their long fingers slowly ran up and down her skin, making her shiver. “I wonder what would happen if I did this,” brushing fingertips over her throbbing hearted sex.

The slight buck of her hips gave Noah the response he wanted. His infectious smile returned to his lips, making Y/N hungry to taste them.

"You're playing dangerously, Noah," Y/N warned.

"I asked you if you wanted to," he replied, lifting his shirt high enough for her to take her first shot. “So, are you?”

Y/N opened the tequila and slowly poured it into Noah's belly button, being as careful as she could be. Noah's stomach muscles flinched causing his skin to prickle and she wondered if it would have the same response if she were to go down on him right then. She wanted to find out, especially when she noticed how hard he was. It took a lot of restraint to not touch him

"See something you like?"

"I see a lot that I like," she grinned, taking a lime slice from the bowl and bringing it to Noah's lips.

His hand remained between her thighs, as he continued caressing her skin, slowly, giving Y/N a pleasured feeling that set her nerves on fire. She parted her legs a little more, giving Noah more access to her sweet spot.

"Open," she ordered and Noah obeyed, biting down gently on the green rind. Pushing his head to the side, Y/N poured the salt onto his painted skin and ran her tongue over it, over the faded green leaves that rested just below his jaw. It pulled a deep throated growl from Noah and clenched the inside of her thigh. Y/N moaned from the feeling, knowing fully well there would be a bruise there by morning. Quickly, with the salt still on her tongue, she moved to Noah's lower half, sucking the liquor straight from his navel until every bit of it was gone before moving to his mouth and taking the lime. Noah watched with lust filled eyes as she sucked the juice from the rind, tossing the table when she was finished.

"What?" Y/N asked, noticing the look on his face as she returned to her normal height. "Shit," Noah breathed, half-smiling. "I think that had to be one of the hottest things I've ever seen."

Y/N giggled.

"Well, it sounds like you haven't seen a lot." "Oh, I've seen plenty."

Noah moved his hand higher up her thigh, waiting for her to stop him, and when she didn't, he ran his fingers over her pussy.

"Your panties are moist, pretty girl. Do I make you wet?"

Y/N whimpered, biting her lower lip.

"What if I did this?" swiping over her clit. "Noah," she gasped, gripping the table.

Noah laughed, soft and low.

He sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the table, and pushed her panties to the side, pressing the pad of his finger lightly between her folds. He made a sound that was almost inhuman, swallowed up by the newfound warmth he'd discovered. His fingers rubbed gently at first, pulling tiny gasps from her lips as his tongue and teeth marked faint lines across her skin as he made his way towards the bottom of her throat.

"Damn, you're so fucking wet; so tight. God, baby. You're sweet little pussy feels so good," Noah muttered.

Y/N could hear the excitement and the tiny crack that followed in his voice. She sighed, closing her eyes and absorbing the feeling of Noah's sensual assaults inside her. She didn't care if this was wrong. She didn't care if people could see. All she cared about was if Noah was capable of making her cum.

Moaning the moment Noah slid two fingers up inside her, Y/N raised her head, looking up at him. Noah was gone, lost in the moment just as much as she was. He hummed, satisfied with the feeling of her tight pussy already clenching around his fingers that thrusted deeper and deeper each time feeding the array of quiet moans that escaped her lips the harder she worked herself against his hand.

"I want you to take another shot off me," Noah ordered.

"Mmm, I can't, not while your fucking me like this," Y/N protested, keeping her eyes locked on him.

"Yes you can. Just try it. You'll like it, I promise," Noah grinned.

Y/N's stomach fluttered as her heart beat faster. Doing what she was told, she salted his neck and instead of putting the tequila in his navel, she poured it into the small spot between the two bones at the bottom of his throat, right below his adam's apple. Noah slowed his movements as Y/N rose to the tips of her toes, licked the salt and lapped up the liquor, grabbing the lime from Noah's teeth.

"Fuck that's hot," he confessed, kissing her forehead. He could feel her legs trembling, her body starting to shake and even though she was making being a gentleman about the whole thing difficult, he refused to be apathetic.

"Come here," he whispered gently, returning to the soft thrusting of his fingers against her inner walls, taking his time to completely undo every tensed muscle in her body.

Y/N scooted closer, lifting on her toes to give more access and placing her hands on Noah's thighs for balance.He pulled her in and pushed her head down, allowing her to rest her forehead against his shoulder.

"Stay with me, baby. Keep your hands on me. I've got you," Noah encouraged her, wrapping his free arm around her and holding her as close as he could. Y/N gasped and moaned, clawing at the fabric beneath her hands as Noah took them to another dimension. They were no longer where they had been. They were somewhere else; just the two of them.

"Oh, god!" "God isn't here, pretty girl, I am. And it damn well better my name on those lips when you cum," Noah growled

He held Y/N to him with one arm while using his free hand to thrust up into her. Her back arched, and she allowed her head to fall back as Noah latched on to her throat. He bit down, sucking the saltiness of her skin off .

"Noah, this is dangerous. What if someone sees," Y/N panicked, making a poor attempt at getting out of Noah's grasps. "I don't fucking care if they do. I just want you, I need you to cum for me, baby. Give me the satisfaction of pushing you over the edge."

Y/N couldn't deny the hungry desire for her she saw in Noah's eyes. It was feral, and all she wanted to do was feed it. Pushing her hips forward, she gripped Noah's shoulders and worked her pussy against his hand, right before he slipped in a third finger. A low curse left her lips as she bit the lower one to cover a moan.

"You're going to cum for me, aren't you, pretty girl?"

Her pussy clenched around his fingers and soft whimpers replaced any words she wanted to say.

"God damn, yeah, that's, baby, ride my hand," Noah coaxed her, paying close attention to Y/N's body and the signs it was giving him. "You like that, don't you? You like me fucking your wet, needy cunt with my fingers like this, twisting them inside you. Tell me you do," he breathed, trying to ease the urgent need to cum himself "I do! Fuck, Noah, I shouldn't, but I do really like it."

Her abdomen was on fire, her head spinning from the overwhelming coiled tension building in her lower back. Her breathing was shallow as her quiet moans started to draw closer together, and her head fell back, closing her eyes. Noah wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, lifting her head.

"Eyes on my pretty girl. Watch me when you cum. I need to see the look in your eyes when you cum all over my hand," he ordered, breathing heavily.Y/N nodded "I can feel you squeezing my fingers," he whispered, ghosting his lips over hers. Y/N tilted her head in hopes of capturing them, but failed. "Noah, I'm about to cum!" she gasped once Noah found that spot."Right there?" "Mmm-hmm, don't stop, please don't stop!" "I won't as long as you keep your eyes on me," he promised. And she did.

Pressure built in Y/N's lower half, the ache strengthening with every thrust of Noah's fingers or the swipe of his thumb over her clit and in a matter of seconds her walls fluttered around his fingers, her climax reached its peak, and her orgasm crescendo throughout her entire body.

"Oh god, Noah," she cried into her hand before she collapsed onto his chest.

"There it is, that's a good girl. I can feel your cum dripping down my wrist, baby. Fuck!"

"What's wrong?"

Noah took a deep breath through his nose, trying to keep it together.

"I'm about to fucking cum!" he growled through gritted teeth.

Y/N wasted no time. Grabbing the front of Noah's pants and briefs, she pulled as Noah lifted his bottom and released enough of his thick, swollen cock right as the milky white liquid shot all down the front of her skirt. Noah groaned, resting his forehead against hers.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! "I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N," he swore over and over, chest rising and falling rapidly as he covered himself up, but Y/N was only laughing quietly.

"Don't be,' she replied breathlessly, looking into Noah's eyes. She pulled back and brushed the hair out of his eyes before kissing his forehead."We both got what we wanted."

Noah grinned. Reaching over, he grabbed the tequila, salt, and limes.

"What are you doing?" "It's my turn. Lay your head back," he commanded, and Y/N obeyed, feeling as if her heart was about to beat out of her chest.

Noah repeated the same steps as she did when taking the shot off of his neck and swallowed quickly, trailing his lips with a little bit of tongue up her neck, kissing as he went over her jawline and took the lime from her mouth. Y/N could only give small exasperated moans as her eyes met Noah's. They were dark, full of an eagerness for more.

"Yum," he smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Happy Birthday, pretty girl." Y/N just shook her head, smiling.

They found a bathroom where Noah was able to clean his happy accident off the front of Y/N's mini skirt. Neither one spoke, both of them either too embarrassed, ashamed, or sad from everything that had happened or was about to. Maybe it was all three. Walking around the corner of the bathrooms, Noah's phone vibrated. It was a text in the band's group chat asking where he was. He texted back that he was coming, then pocketed his phone.

"So, uh, thanks for the really awesome birthday gifts," Y/N teased.

Noah felt his ears and cheeks instantly heat up, forcing him to rub the back of his neck like he normally did when he got embarrassed.

"Yeah," he laughed, dropping his gaze to the floor.

"Seriously," reaching out and touching Noah’s arm, assuring him she was.

Noah locked eyes with Y/N, desperately aching to kiss her. She was so pretty, with a sweet smile and the kind of laugh he could get used to hearing a lot of. But deep down, he knew that wasn't going to happen

"I gotta go. Gotta get back to my friends..."

"Yeah," Y/N laughed nervously, "of course."

"Do, uh, is there any chance I could have your number?"

There was an awkward silence.

"Um, Noah, I,”

"Oh god, I'm sorry, you're don't, er, you're not, shit, never mind," Noah stuttered, apologizing quickly.

"No, no, it's not like that, it's not that I don't want to, it's just that, well, I just shouldn't," Y/N stated, peering up at him.

That's Noah realized, that was Y/N's way of letting him down gently. His pocket vibrated, saving his heart from realizing what his head had just figured out. Matt was freaking out. He really had to go, now.

"Right," he slowly nodded, suddenly feeling like the biggest fool around. "I'm gonna go. My band's about to receive some kind of an award, so I've got to hurry."

"Your band? Wait… what?"

"Yeah, anyway, it was really nice to meet you and I hope the rest of your birthday is great," he yelled, turning around and running in the opposite direction as Y/N called his name from behind him.

"Dude, where the fuck have you been?" Matt scolded.

"It's a long story. I'll tell you later."

"Hey," Jolly called, tapping Noah on the shoulder. "How did it go? Was the friend nice?"

Noah remained silent for a moment, wondering how to put into words all that had happened. There weren't enough and there never would be.

"Yeah," was all he could say with a smile. "She was pretty nice. It was fun, for the moment," shrugging his shoulders.

Jolly chuckled, patting his friend on the back as they followed Nick and Folio out to where their managers were standing. The guests cheered and whistled, cameras flashed, and hands were shaken as the guys were awarded and congratulated with a number one single award from one of the biggest music companies in the country. Noah looked out into the faces of all those cheering for him and his best friends, eyes stopping when they came in contact with a pair he recognized instantly.

Y/N's mouth was wide open as she stood in the crowd looking at the man whom she had just shared a very intimate moment with and nobody but the two of them knew. She was with somebody, making Noah's heart instantly fall into the pit of his stomach. He'd just fingerfucked some other guy's girl, making him feel low and dirty. The guy turned around, and Noah recognized him instantly. He was a friend in the business who worked for the record label. The guy looked from him to Y/N, and Noah watched as he gently shook her to get her attention. Reluctantly, Y/N tore her eyes away from Noah and exchanged a few words with the guy glancing at him one more time, before walking off with her face in her hands. His friend shrugged, waving to Noah, before turning to follow after Y/N. Noah smiled softly to himself, knowing it wasn't going to be the last he’d ever see her again. 

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

Can You Hear The Thunder?

Chapter 3: Change / Quintessence ghouls

Dew is summoned, and shortly after meets a quintessence ghoul named Aether. This topside world is new and confusing, and so are his feelings towards the ghoul.

Welp, glad to see those who read the first chapters enjoyed them! Clearly you liked them enough that I fell victim to the curse of the AO3 author and my laptop keyboard promptly died! (2 months out of warranty too 🫠)

Rating: M Content: injury Words: 7841

Link to full fic with associated tags: Tumblr | AO3

Tag list: @cosmicseafoam @ashthewaterghoul @jimothybarnes @zombiequeen777 @rainsbasspick <33

Read below, or on AO3!

Quintessence ghouls were an anomaly even among their own kind, lacking as they did the purely physical form of other ghouls and existing in a semi-corporeal state. Born from stardust, quintessence ghoul kits only learned to take form in early kit-hood. They lived in a rocky landscape amidst the infinite darkness of the deepest depths of the Pit, their surroundings punctuated only by stars and galaxies. Quintessence ghouls could weave the very energy of the universe around them, manipulating both the senses and emotions of those nearby. With such powerful abilities, it followed that quintessence ghouls were among the most feared. Many had leaned into their reputation, allowing Him to wield them and their abilities as a cosmic weapon. His creators and destroyers, they were brutish guardians of His deepest realms.

As ghouls formed from the innate force of life rather than a more physical element, it followed that their links to their mates would be forged in a similar vein. Quintessence ghouls had one of the least outwardly obvious yet most intense soul marks. Like the ghouls themselves, their connections dealt in emotions: whatever one ghoul may feel and experience, their mate could too. Sometimes it was involuntary, with the strongest emotions of one ghoul being forced upon the other in the heat of the moment. Other times, they could tune into their mate’s emotions from afar, the same way they could with any other ghoul in their vicinity.

For quintessence ghouls who chose to present themselves in their more physical form, their soul connection also manifested physically, in their horns. When the ghoul was experiencing their mate’s emotions, a glow would emanate from the base of their horns like a mood ring. For ghouls who chose to stay incorporeal, their aura would take on a tinge of their mate's; apparent to those around them. In spite of the mental load such a bond could cause, quintessence ghouls saw the power of them, demonstrating how even on a non-physical plane of existence there would always exist an emotional connection between ghouls.

For crossmated ghouls, quintessence marks were undoubtedly the hardest to deal with. The glowing horns, that was simple: a physical difference they could disguise or conceal. However, the mental link had been known to drive some ghouls to near-insanity. For ghouls not familiar with the intimacy of quintessence, the feeling of experiencing of another's emotions was already a shock. When that was coupled with the shared despair from their mate at their split bond, it was an unending torrent of anguish.

~~~~~~~

The lava burned like nothing Dew had ever felt before. The searing heat as he fell through it seemed as though it would melt the flesh from his bones before in turn reducing them to ash. He felt the clothes on his body first singe and then catch fire, burning away from him as the skin beneath glowed an incandescent red like steel in a furnace.

As he continued to fall, the darkness of the abyss he plummeted through overtook the fiery glow from the volcano until all he could see was the flashing of static behind his eyelids. The roaring in his ears increased in volume until it felt like his eardrums would burst. Just as he thought he would be blasted into stardust from the intensity of the sensations, all the noise and burning abruptly stopped. Dew felt himself hit the ground, the cold, smooth granite beneath him soothing his raw skin.

He let out the sulphurous breath he was holding in a rush and gulped lungful of cool, fresh air. Dew lay still, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried to assess his surroundings. Even through his closed eyelids he could tell the space around him was dimly lit. All he could smell at first was the brimstone that clogged his nostrils, the acrid curl of singed hair bitter in the back of his throat. As he continued to clear his lungs, the comforting scent of burning candles took its place. Behind that, he smelled damp earth, the sharp tinge of iron, a sweet and cloying stench of decay and... a ghoul? They didn't smell like any ghoul he'd ever met before; the underlying essence of the Pit mixed with something electrical, a stinging ozone scent.

The ringing in Dew's ears was slowly starting to subside and above it, he could just make out voices.

“I thought you said we were summoning a fire ghoul?”

“Idiot boy, how did you get it so wrong?”

“But- the ritual was correct?”

“That doesn't look like any water ghoul I've seen before though, look at its horns."

“Don't be stupid, look at those blue marks! Of course it's a water ghoul.”

As the sound became clearer, Dew realised they were talking about him. Great: not even a minute into his new life, and already his soul mark was causing him problems. Couldn't they see he didn't have any fins?

“Maybe it's a hybrid?”

“Who cares! Give it a bass to play or throw it back in the pit, we don't have time for this.”

Dew heard an impatient sigh, and the click of shoes on stone moving away from him.

“Ghoul. Give it a blanket and take it to the dorms.”

Dew heard muffled footsteps approaching him and the strangely chemical ghoul smell grow stronger and his hackles raised on instinct, a growl rippling from his throat. He forced his eyes open, despite even the faint glow of the candlelight burning them, and dragged his screaming limbs into a defensive crouch. As the dark, blurry shape in front of him came into focus, he recognised the distinctive horns of a ghoul. A quintessence one, he assumed from the glint of purple eyes shining from behind a shiny metal mask. He supposed that explained the alien smell; he had never met any ghouls who were not fire like himself, and he had to assume that not all species smelled similarly of smoke and brimstone.

The ghoul chittered calmingly at him in their native tongue, and Dew felt a questioning pressure against his mind. He hissed until the presence in his head retreated and watched the tentative steps of the large ghoul closely. He was holding a blanket, arms outstretched in a peace offering. The ozone scent was even clearer now, but Dew found it offset by a soothing lavender and chamomile that made it less painful to his sensitive nose. He narrowed his eyes and remained in his crouching position, but let the quintessence ghoul approach and drape the blanket over him.

"Welcome.” they rumbled in the staccato ghoulish tongue, low and quiet like the very act of speaking in it was forbidden. What kind of place had Dew been summoned to?

“You may leave now ghoul. You will be summoned for duties shortly.”

Dew's eyes flicked to the voice, and the small cluster of figures draped in black cloaks at the far side of the dim room. All four of them had menace to them, something Dew recognized from the pit, yet they were clearly human. From under their hoods, four pairs of gleamingly white eyes stared out. The one who spoke seemed so be older than time itself, his stooped figure grasping a metal frame for support. He took a deep, gasping breath, before being escorted from the stone-walled chamber by the two taller figures. The final one, the shortest, paused to observe the ghouls with curiosity, before hurriedly turning to follow the others.

“You are safe now.” the quintessence ghoul now spoke in the human tongue. “I am Aether. Let us leave this place – there are always ears listening.”

He reached out a hand to help Dew to his feet, which he tentatively accepted.

Dew pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, the smooth fabric feeling cool against his burned skin. He followed the quintessence ghoul, who seemed keen to leave the dark room they were in as soon as possible. Dew wondered if he had been summoned into this room himself; it would explain why he didn't seem keen to stick around. The atmosphere was a sinister one, and the pain of the summoning wasn't something he was likely to forget any time soon.

Almost as soon as they were out of the dark chamber, Aether's shoulders lowered and his entire demeanour seemed to shift, looking much more relaxed than he had just seconds before.

“Sorry about all… this.” He gestured around at the low stone ceilings, the unfamiliar blanket and in the direction the summoning humans had left in. “I know it’s a lot.”

Dew looked down at his blackened and burned hands. The quintessence ghoul was rather understating things, there. Aether followed his gaze.

“Oh! You’re hurt,” he reached out a large, calloused hand questioningly. Dew let him lift one of his own to examine it, “water ghouls shouldn’t get burned like that…”

“I’m a fire ghoul.” Dew snapped. He had only been on the surface for mere minutes, and he was already sick of it. He had thought things were meant to be different up here, the ghouls not as obsessed with their marks as in the Pit.

“Huh,” Aether looked him up and down, his gaze lingering on Dew’s fire-bleached horns and deep burgundy eyes, “I guess Terzo didn’t completely screw up then.”

He clearly had more questions but held them in for the time being.

“I should've asked sooner, but what's your name?”

“Dewdrop.” He tried to soften his tone, not wanting to burn bridges before he had even started, but still winced to himself as he heard how clipped it sounded.

“Well then, welcome to the Abbey, Dewdrop. It's a bit of a strange situation up here, quite different compared to what most ghouls are summoned for, but we have quite a cushy number overall.”

Dew zoned out from the quintessence ghoul's chattering almost immediately. He could hear words like allowance and chores but paid them no mind. It seemed like Aether was enjoying the opportunity to talk more than anything. He understood why when they passed through a heavy, oak door into a short corridor: half a dozen smaller doors hung on each side and almost all of them were ajar, with no signs of life behind them. Dew squinted into the room nearest him and saw nothing but bare pine furniture; an unmade bed with neatly folded linens stacked on top, an empty desk, and a tall and monolithic wardrobe hulking in the corner. It reeked of emptiness and impersonality.

“This is the wing where we live,” Aether explained as he pulled the silver mask off his face and laid it on a table that seemed specifically ordained for that purpose, “it's just a bit empty in here right now, that's all.”

Dew got the impression that that hadn't always been the case. The scent of other ghouls lingered stale in the air, and he shuddered to think where they were now; why they were no longer here.

Without the mask in the way, he was finally able to observe the quintessence ghoul. His face was rugged; a strong jaw matched his thick neck and a deep scar ran through his eyebrow, yet he had a softness to him that Dew didn’t immediately associate with the violence that could have caused such a mark.

“Come and sit in the common room, I'll sort your burns out.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dew followed. The room they entered was similarly devoid of personality as the bedroom he had seen, although it bore clear signs of use. The couches had soft, sagging cushions that despite their age looked well-loved and comfortable, there were a handful of mismatched mugs and glasses on a small kitchenette counter, and an acoustic guitar rested on its stand next to an armchair.

Aether flopped onto a sofa with a thud, fitting into a dip that seemed to have moulded to his body with time. He beckoned Dew to join him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was still dressed in only the cloak-like blanket draped over his shoulders. Dew pulled it tighter around him before choosing instead to perch on a footstool in front of the couch. His tail curled tightly around his calf; all his anxious energy focused into its undulating constrictions.

“Can I?” Aether asked questioningly, holding his hands out palms up and gesturing at Dew's fire-scorched cheeks. Dew looked at them questioningly, not seeing any bandages or anything else he would have thought the ghoul needed to cure his burns.

“Quintessence,” the ghoul explained with a wiggle of his fingertips, “I'm helping out in the infirmary here until things get going.”

Dew regarded him with suspicion still but nodded anyway. Aether shuffled to the edge of the couch, leaning forward and gently laying his palms to his scorched cheeks. Dew shivered at their cool temperature and also the vulnerability of their position, his near-nakedness not helping matters. It felt almost… intimate? Aether’s hands were large, each one covering half of his face with ease. The way that they sat, Aether could so easily choose to tighten his grip, decide to shake Dew like a dog might a rat, and yet he didn’t.

Dew found something about that to be strangely intoxicating. He normally detested being made to feel small, not wanting yet another reminder of the ways he felt physically at odds with his own body, but this was different somehow. Dew could feel the thrum of Aether’s power surging beneath his skin, could sense how his large form loomed over him, and yet he felt like the one in control. He let out a shuddering breath as the tingling sensation of quintessence permeated his body, not daring to raise his eyes from where they remained fixed on his hands clutching the blanket together in his lap. He thought that if he found Aether’s as fixed on his as he imagined them to be, he might just burst into flames again.

If Aether’s fingertips lingered a second too long before he eventually released Dew’s face from his genre hold, neither said a word.

“Right, yes, clothes.” Aether muttered to himself as he coughed awkwardly and threw himself to his feet. Dew was glad for the lingering pinkness from his already-healing burns to explain away the flush he could feel on his cheeks.

Striding to the door of the common room, Aether started his nervous chattering again.

“So, each room has its own shower and toilet, but if you want a proper bath there’s a large shared one at the end of the hall. There’s a selection of clothes in the wardrobe for now and you can just let me know what you want more of.”

Dew trailed after him, still silent and already looking forward to the moment of peace when he could close a door between him and the world. He needed time and quiet to absorb everything that had happened since he had been in the Pit just that morning. Aether paused in his ramblings and outside an open door with the water symbol carved into it.

“Look,” he began apologetically, “I know you’re a fire ghoul, but if they’re gonna have you playing bass you should probably go in here for now.”

Dew still had no idea by what he meant by that, although given the way Aether spoke he wondered if it was something he had explained on the walk over while Dew was zoned out. He understood the symbol though and frowned at it.

“It’s a better room anyway,” Aether continued, “the last fire ghoul who lived in this wing complained about the noise the heating makes at night all the time!”

Dew shrugged. He was a light sleeper; years of feeling like a prey animal among his own species had left him twitchy and liable to wake at the slightest sound. He could tolerate a mislabelled door for the sake of some quiet.

“I’ll be in the common room, when you’re ready.” Aether either sensed the tension or knew when he wasn’t needed and turned away to let Dew explore the room on his own.

Dew stepped over the threshold of the room, feeling the worn carpet soft beneath his feet compared to the stone and wood hallways of the rest of the place. He carefully closed the door behind him, not letting it slam but also firmly locking it behind him. His shoulders sank as he let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding, feeling the tension across his back release for the first time since he had seen the portal out of the Pit open up.

He took the moment of quiet to properly observe his new surroundings. The first thing that struck him was the space; he could have laid spread-eagled in the middle of the floor and still had space to spare. The middle of the room was taken up by the same pine bedstead he had spotted before, but it was only now he stood next to it he realised just how large it was – easily big enough for several ghouls to fit at once. Ample space for both him and Aeth–

Dew stopped that thought in its tracks. He had only just got here; he shouldn't let himself entertain thoughts like that until he knew more the ghoul and their environment. Moving on in his exploration of the room, he pulled open the doors to the wardrobe. Its contents was similarly sparse, a meagre selection of basic clothing in neutral colours and a variety of sizes, but one thing caught his eye though. On a shelf above the rail, so high he had to stand on tiptoes to reach it, was a bundled-up duvet. He grabbed it gleefully with both hands and pulled the mass of plush fabric down on top of him, uncaring as his existing blanket fell from his shoulders. The duvet was warm, it’s cover silky smooth, as he hugged it close to him. Even in the extreme heat of the Pit he had always sought ways to make his lonely nest warmer and cosier, but this quilt was better than anything he had ever found down there.

As much as Dew wanted to burrow deep into the duvet and sleep the exhaustion from summoning away, he knew that had to wait. If he wanted to make the most of his new existence he had to grab life by the horns. That, and he didn’t want to get the clean white fabric dirty; he was still covered head to toe in dark grey ash. He carefully set the bundle on the bed before moving to investigate the bathroom.

While more modest in size than the bedroom, the neatly tiled room was by no means small. It was clearly a new addition to the room, an afterthought plumbed into the cutout of a room in a much older building. Hanging above a small porcelain sink, a mirror reflected a familiar face back at Dew. He didn’t know why but he had expected to look different somehow; disfigured by the fire or transmuted into a human form like he had heard rumours of. Instead though, the face Dew had grown up with stared back, the only differences to the last time he had seen himself being the still slightly pink tinge to his skin from his burns, and a liberal dusting of ash.

He ran his fingers through his hair, wincing at how brittle it felt but grateful it had miraculously survived the flames that burned his skin and vaporised his clothes. He would have to ask Aether to help him find a hairbrush soon. For now though he carefully braided it away; with every part of his body still tender and sore, including his scalp, he didn't want to be dragging out any more knots than he had to.

The shower was similarly basic, but clean. Dew fiddled with the shiny chrome fittings until a shock of cold spray erupted from the showerhead, making him wince. He figured out how to crank it as hot as it would go, more like the heat of the natural geothermal pools he was used to bathing in back in the Pit. The hot water also burned his painful skin though, until he eventually found a not-unpleasant compromise in letting lukewarm water draw the rest of the heat from his burns out while not chilling his internal fire too much.

Dew watched as the soot and ash from the Pit washed down the drain with the water in swirls of grey. Stealing his attention though, he saw the teal marks on his arms glowing in the water, as though they were mocking him. He was quite literally half a world away from where he had first developed them, and yet here they were still causing him problems. Dew took a deep breath, letting the steam fill his lungs, and forced his eyes shut against their glow.

He tried to focus on the rhythmic patter of the water instead, letting it massage his skin and clear his mind. Deep down, Dew had known that being summoned wouldn't remove them, wouldn't erase the pain the swirling patterns in such a contrasting colour to his skin had caused him, but some part of him had hoped he could be allowed to forget them. He knew he could use this new start to his advantage despite that though, if only he could leave the baggage around his marks in the Pit.

Besides, there was one thing up here that was infinitely more interesting than wallowing in his past: Aether the quintessence ghoul, and whatever spark Dew had felt between them. That was something he could never have explored before. In his clan at least, ghouls had on the whole been disinterested in casual dating outside of fooling around with one another. When you knew your cosmic partner was somewhere out there waiting for you, why go through all the effort to connect with anyone else? The only attention Dew had gotten in the Pit had been from ghouls not yet ready to find their partner and settle down; ghouls who saw his alien soul mark as proof that he was not already spoken for and was unlikely to be anytime soon.

When Dew eventually pulled himself out of the shower, his head was clearer. He was ready to embrace this new life. Even if he had little other choice in the matter, he could choose to jump in with both feet as he had done when he chose to leap into the summoning portal.

The towel already hanging on a rail inside the small room was, like everything here so far, worn but soft. He was grateful for that as he wrapped it around his sensitive body, trying to mop up the water droplets on his skin rather than wipe them away and risk abrasing his skin further. Once passably dry, Dew went to investigate the clothes situation. He hadn't been especially fond of what he had been wearing in the pit, just a basic dyed tunic, but he was irritated nonetheless that it had burned up as he was summoned. The long sleeves were a source of familiar comfort, falling well over his hands, and had the added benefit of hiding his soul mark completely.

Rifling through the wardrobe, he quickly realised that, in being a random selection of items, most of the options were either too large or too small. He found a flowy linen shirt that looked only a few sizes too large but had enough fabric for him to hide inside of. He tugged it over his head and immediately regretted it, the loose fabric catching and pulling on his skin where it was still tender, every action sending lancing shivers of pain along his nerve endings.

Ripping it off, Dew contemplated its complete opposite; a small black top in a fabric he had never seen before in the pit. It was slightly shiny yet still thick and stretchy. Gingerly, Dew wriggled it on, expecting it to also hurt. To his surprise, the whole garment seemed to hold tight to him, caressing his wounds with a gentle pressure as it clung tight and unmoving to them. The sleeves were long and the neckline high, covering every last swirl of his markings and even hiding the lingering teal glow that the moisture still clinging to him caused.

His reflection in another mirror hanging on the inside of the wardrobe door caught his attention. Dew wasn't used to wearing anything so form-fitting, usually choosing to hide in layers upon layers of baggy fabric that also helped manage the heat of the lava fields in the Pit. He had to admit though, this new look suited him. The way it clung to his flat chest and stomach, subtly highlighting the small amount of wiry muscle in his arms, it made his physique look purposeful as opposed to only small. Dew couldn't help but preen slightly. Who said he had to hide up here anyway? He could choose to flaunt this new look, if he wanted to.

Digging deeper into the wardrobe, he found a pair of similarly tight trousers made of the same stretchy material that, upon further inspection, had a specially tailored hole for his tail. After some consideration he also picked out a hooded sweatshirt he could tighten over his short horns. He was warm now, both from his burns and the shower, but he knew he would inevitably find that he was cold again once that faded, at least until he acclimatised to the cooler temperatures on the surface. For now though, he folded it and laid it on the bed.

Shoes, Dew decided, could wait. They had been a necessity in the scorching lava fields of the Pit, one that had always felt claustrophobic and stifling to him, but up here they seemed rather pointless. The cool marble in the corridor outside the Den had also been wonderfully soothing on his burned soles.

As much as part of him still wanted to shy away and hibernate in this room for the rest of time, Dew knew he would regret it. He forced himself out into the hallway and was once again struck by how large both it and the common room he was determinedly headed to were, especially given how there were only the pair of them seemingly living there. The eerie sense of past ghouls haunted the place and Dew wondered once again what had happened to them.

Setting aside those thoughts and entering the common room, Aether was waiting for him, as promised. He looked up as Dew entered, a look of delighted surprise colouring his features as though he too had been afraid that Dew would be a hermit in his room for the foreseeable future. His eyes drifted down for a moment, taking in the sight of the fire ghoul in skin-tight activewear for a second too long before forcing them back to his face.

“You found everything alright, then?”

Even Dew could tell the question was forced; a cover for his blatant staring when he had entered. He chose not to let himself feel self-conscious, instead nodding as he sashayed into the room with a relaxed swing to his hips and sliding into an armchair facing Aether with a coy smile. Dew was used to being the shy one, and the shiver of satisfaction he felt watching the large quintessence ghoul blush was almost addictive.

As much as he wanted to explore just how far he could push this exhilarating feeling of Aether’s attention, Dew knew he had plenty of time for that. For now, he could stand to listen to the ghoul’s clearly well-prepared welcome speech; a repeat of everything Dew had ignored during their walk over from the dark room of his summoning.

The first thing Aether had explained had been the human glamour Dew would be expected to adopt. If he wanted to walk the halls of the Abbey outside of their dormitory without a mask, he would have to master one. It wasn’t difficult, he had promised, seamlessly raising his as he spoke. Dew watched, full of equal parts curiosity and revulsion as Aether’s curled horns retracted into his skull and the wide spade of his tail folded into itself as it too shrunk away.  The lavender pigment in Aether’s skin drained away, leaving behind only a flat porcelain and the vivid purple of his eyes faded to a dull grey. Even the shape of his features changed, his long fang-like teeth blunting themselves and the tips of his ears flattening out.

“I’ll teach you!” He had grinned, purposely holding a wide smile long enough that Dew could see his canines extending again as he dropped the guise and let himself revert to his ghoulish appearance.

He learned that the humans who had been present, the ones who had deemed him a water ghoul from his soul mark alone, were in charge here. Dew had also ascertained that here was in fact an ancient Abbey, an old stone church that had stood for centuries in its devotion to their Creator. The shortest of the humans had been the one to summon him, the apparent leader here – although Aether did not seem convinced by this statement – and the third of his generational bloodline. Papa Emeritus the Third, or Terzo as Aether had said he preferred to be called, was the public face of their establishment having taken over from his brother. He had also been present at the summoning, the others being their oldest brother and father.

Most importantly, Aether had explained the purpose Dew had been summoned for; the greatest project of the whole church. Under Terzo’s fresh leadership, and with the addition of other ghouls yet to be summoned, they would preach His word through music. They would be a band, performing Rituals for their most devout children all across the topside world. Dew had been sceptical: he had never so much as hummed a tune to himself in the Pit, let alone played any musical instrument. What possible reason could He have had to choose him for this project? Aether had assured him that was beside the point – the necessary skills would come to him with time and practice.

Dew had also found out some scraps of information about the ghouls whose presence had so clearly recently vacated their dormitory. They had not been banished back to the Pit, or met some other equally horrifying fate, but had simply been moved to other quarters. They had been summoned by the elder Emeritus brothers and remained in their service and, as their leaders had retired, so too had they moved to other wings of the Abbey. This one, as spacious and central as it was, was reserved for the ghouls of the current project leader.  That made Dew feel a little better, and the empty rooms less ominous.

The previous heads of the church were harsher, as were their ghouls. Aether described the months he had been at the Abbey as Terzo’s personal ghoul before the man had been promoted to the band. Sensing the impending shake-up of band ghouls, the current quintessence ghoul, Omega, had been placed in charge of Aether’s continued assimilation to topside life, and he had shown barely concealed resentment at the news that he had been training his own replacement. One of several ghouls to find their long-lost soulmate in this specific surface mission alone, Aether had mused that he thought Omega and his partner Alpha would be topside for a little longer, until they had finalised their plans to return to the Pit.

Terzo seemed a fair leader so far, Aether had assured Dew. He was clearly still a little green, unused to having demonic subjects to be in charge of, but he showed the promise of a great figurehead. In the short time since he had taken over, he had led the band and its existing ghoulish members as best he could. Throughout, he had continued to treat Aether with greater respect than most humans treated the ghouls they summoned; speaking to him rather than ordering him and insisting on calling him by name rather than simply Ghoul. As summonings to the topside realm went, this was by all metrics a good one, Aether promised.

As they talked, Dew couldn’t help but wonder what soul mark Aether might be hiding. His arms, bare apart from a generous dusting of dark hair, bore no signs of one, nor did any of the rest of his exposed skin. Dew realised he didn’t even know how a quintessence mark would manifest, nor any other element besides fire and water.

“So you’re not a water ghoul, but are you some kind of hybrid then?”

Aether’s line of questioning, accompanied by a gesture at his own arms which Dew realised too late he had been staring at, brought him back out of his thoughts with a jolt. He scowled at the question, even though he had somewhat brought it upon himself.

“I grew up with fire ghouls.”

Dew knew he was being purposefully vague, especially given his earlier declaration that he was a fire ghoul. However, given how the humans at his summoning, and now also Aether, seemed convinced he was at least partly water he began to wonder if perhaps he should lean into that. Dew didn’t want to invite questions: this topside mission really did seem like a good gig and while Papa Emeritus and the other humans had been confused, they seemed willing to accept a hybrid and Dew wasn’t about to jeopardize his chances. He knew he had been summoned as fire – the summoning portal appearing in his own realm had made that perfectly clear – yet from their comments and his room with a water symbol on the door it seemed he was here for a position normally granted to a water ghoul.

He wasn’t totally convinced he could get away with the ruse; his water marks were clearly visible, but so too were his bleached horns and high ambient temperature, and above all his complete lack of fins. Dew thought to himself that he would be whatever they wanted him to be, if it only meant he got to enjoy this topside life for a while. Either way, Aether seemed to accept his statement, or at least sense that it was simply not worth probing Dew further on the matter.

The pair sat in the common room until the sun outside was setting, long past the point at which one of them should have got up to turn on a light. In the dark, Aether’s description of the rest of the Abbey could have been a fictional tale, it sounded so improbable. The chapel, a small complex of greenhouses, an infirmary; these were all things that sounded reasonable for a remote religious community. An in-house rock band run by the church’s highest power and a legion of ghouls though? One with thousands of devout followers across the whole surface world? Dew had begun to think this whole experience had simply been a dream and he would shortly wake to find himself back in the Pit, staring at the same lava pool he had spent many hours beside.

“I didn’t believe it either, at first,” Aether chuckled, “but I promise it’s all true. I’ve seen the crowds.”

Not for the first time, Dew wondered why he had been chosen for such a task. The scope of this project… it was beyond anything he had known to exist on the surface. His influence up here was clearly stronger than ever. Dew felt a familiar flicker of unworthiness; this must be one of the most prestigious callings topside, in what world could he possibly be the most suitable ghoul for it? Or just maybe, He had seen something in Dew that he couldn't see himself. Possibly this could be the opportunity to prove himself that his situation in the Pit had rendered impossible.

“I don’t play an instrument, though.” Dew pointed out, thinking he should at least state the obvious drawback to this plan.

“Have you ever tried?” Aether grinned conspiratorially, teeth glimmering in the dim light. “You’d be surprised how quickly ghouls pick up the skills they were summoned for.”

There would be more summonings soon, Aether continued. While he still didn’t elaborate on why Terzo needed to summon an entirely fresh band of ghouls rather than simply continuing to perform with his brother’s, he explained that they traditionally summoned one ghoul of each element to fill a specific role within the band.

“They want to summon a new earth ghoul next,” Aether said, as if Dew having to fight another newcomer for the quintessence ghoul’s attention was a good thing, “then they would have just needed water and air, but…”

“But they think I’m water.” Dew finished, tossing his hair back with a huff. Great; not only would he have other ghouls as competition, but possibly another fire ghoul. He knew his kind and could only dread what kind of arrogant self-absorbed creature would swagger out of the Pit.

“Before all that though, maybe I could show you around the rest of the Abbey tomorrow? The grounds are probably very different to what you’re used to in the Pit.” Aether changed the subject, and even without him using an ounce of his power Dew felt the calming essence of his particular brand of quintessence. “There’s a lake you might be interested in, too?”

Dew gave a lukewarm nod of interest; he couldn’t care less about some dirty lake, but a day of Aether’s undivided attention before he had to re-learn how to share sounded good.

“We can get you some more clothes too, and you can pick out some snacks.”

At the mention of food, Dew’s stomach let out a treacherous grumble. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had eaten.

“Dinner!” Aether exclaimed, also having completely forgotten, distracted by the company of the new ghoul even if he barely spoke. Something about the sullen scowl that seemed permanently etched onto his face intrigued him, and his fingers itched to reach out and smooth away the creases. He pulled himself back to the task at hand – he could unpack those thoughts later.

“It’s probably a bit late to go to the dining hall now, but we have a few convenience bits in here. How does frozen pizza sound?”

Dew had no idea how that sounded – he didn't even know what frozen pizza was, but Aether was looking at him with a crooked grin, a single fang overhanging his lip, and he couldn't help but offer a small smile in return.

He squinted suspiciously at the beige disk that Aether pulled out of a box he had produced from a strangely illuminated cupboard. It seemed to be emitting its own icy vapours into the room as Aether opened the door, making Dew shiver. The pictures on the stack of other boxes looked nothing like the items of food inside them, as Aether held them out to him.

“Any preference which one?”

Dew examined the cartons. On closer inspection, they had differing pictograms on them: one had a small round fruit, another a cartoon fish, and the third one a small pink animal with a flame next to it. Fire! He didn’t understand what the others meant, but this must be the one for him. He pointed at the symbol excitedly.

“Spicy pepperoni it is.”

Dew didn't know what that was, either.

Aether ripped easily into the cellophane wrapped around the frisbee-shaped food with a claw, laying it on a rectangular metal plate next to his own. His box has the same picture of the pink animal, Dew noticed, as well as a yellow, spiky thing he thought was a fruit. Dew picked his up gingerly, the frozen item almost hurting his fingertips as he poked at one of the smaller red disks on top with a claw. Was all topside food going to be this cold? Maybe he really was going to be freezing the whole time up here. Dew closed his eyes and held the frozen pizza as Aether had called it up to his mouth, before sinking his fangs in.

Or at least he tried to: to Dew’s surprise, the thing was as hard as a rock. His jaw sprung open in recoil and he looked over to Aether in confusion, only to find the quintessence ghoul nearly bent double with laughter.

“I need to cook it first! It has to go in the oven for a bit.”

He gently took the pizza from Dew, putting it back on the baking tray before loading them both into a smaller oven in their shared kitchen. Dew's cheeks burned – how was he supposed to know that? For the whole time the pizzas were cooking he continued to pout, something Aether couldn't help but find adorable.

When Aether eventually pulled the tray out of the oven, which Dew assessed was just a very hot cupboard of its own, presumably the human's version of the fires his clan cooked on, the food looked much more like the photo on the box. The smell made Dew’s mouth water, and his knees tensed up as he went to fall into a hunting crouch, stopping halfway down. He was granted another one of Aether’s grins as he slunk up behind him, forked tongue flicking as he tasted the air.

“Just a moment longer,” the quintessence ghoul made shooing motions with his hands before producing a strange implement, something part way between a wheel and a knife, and proceeded to cut the pizzas into slices with it, “grab us two plates out of the cupboard, would you?”

Dew straightened up and opened the door Aether motioned to, pulling out two of the mismatched plates haphazardly stacked inside. One was what looked to be standard issue white porcelain crockery, having the same impersonal touch as the bathroom earlier, the glaze cracked in places. The other was a total opposite; it sported a gaudy yellow rim emblazoned with unfamiliar words, and poorly rendered photographs of palm trees, beaches and a human city across its surface. Aether saw him looking and carefully transferred Dew's pizza off the baking tray to it, taking the plain one for himself.

“Ugly, isn't it,” he smirked, “Terzo bought us all souvenirs on the last tour. Something about not trusting us with the credit card again after what happened in Vegas.”

Dew took it gingerly, nodding politely at the sentence full of words that sounded as strange as a foreign language to him. Aether led the way back over to the sofas, carefully balancing his plate as he let the overstuffed cushions absorb him again. Dew watched as Aether picked up the first slice of his pizza by the edge, before copying him.

He felt his pupils blow wide as the savoury taste hit his tongue. This frozen pizza was unlike anything he had eaten in the Pit. There, they had lived off what they could hunt or grow in the harsh environment; red meat, grains and tough, hardy vegetables, all cooked together over a fire and tasting much the same every time. This felt altogether different, like it was food designed for pleasure rather than necessity.

Dew looked again at the first taste of topside food he held in his hands and felt the grease coat his lips. He eyed the red disks; he hadn't had one of those in his first mouthful. Carefully, he plucked one off and popped it into his mouth. The saltiness of the crisp morsel hit him first, followed by a hot sensation that had nothing to do with the temperature of the now rapidly cooling pizza. He felt a pleasant warmth spread through him as he sank his teeth into the pizza slice again, biting off far more than he could reasonably have expected to chew in his haste.

“Please don't choke,” Aether, winced as Dew's face went red as he struggled to chew or swallow, “I'm off duty from the infirmary right now, and the Clergy will have my neck if I let their new summon die immediately!”

With a large gulp, Dew eventually forced the mouthful down and made himself take a more modest next bite.

“'S good.” he muttered through his food, vastly understating the quasi-religious experience he was having. Aether beamed, before he too demolished his second slice.

All too soon, the pizza was finished, and Dew was already wondering when he could next have more. There had been a whole stack of boxes in the ice-cupboard, but he had yet to work out how the fire-cupboard worked. How hard could it be though? He was a fire ghoul, after all.

Aether eventually pulled himself to his feet again, reaching his arms above his head in a full-body stretch causing every vertebra in his spine to pop satisfyingly. Dew couldn't stop his eyes from hungrily following as Aether's shirt rode up slightly, revealing a plush sliver of skin with a tantalising smattering of dark hair rolling over the tops of his joggers. He felt his mouth watering again as his imagined sinking his fangs into it, tasting the salty tang of his skin.

Satan it was like he was a different ghoul up here, Dew thought. The Pit was meant to be the home of debauchery, of lust and of submission to one's deepest desires; how was he feeling more deliciously sinful thoughts up here than he ever had before? Clearly His influence was strong in this Abbey.

“Time for an early night, I think,” Aether said with a yawn, “I remember how exhausting my summoning was, I couldn’t care less about the Abbey beyond where my bed was!”

Reflexively Dew yawned back, even his tail stiffening as it overtook his whole body. He bit his tongue to stop himself from asking if Aether wouldn’t join him. He really did have no idea where these thoughts were coming from. In a more lucid state, he might assume that they were a result of a lifetime of repressed feelings being released; feelings that told him he was not allowed to desire anyone else because of some predestined mate even if they were a million miles away. The freedom to desire Aether was intoxicating; unprecedented and unfamiliar, but altogether welcome. All he knew for sure though was that he felt lighter and freer than he had in years, like the ten-tonne weight that had landed when his soul mark first appeared had been lifted off his shoulders.

Dew fell asleep that night excited for the rest of his new life and all the other buried aspects of his own self that it might unlock. He knew he would never have made anything of himself in the Pit, but up here the possibilities seemed endless.

[deklo]

i drew some stiles :3c and honestly i’ll probably draw more >:3c

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OOH YEAH BABY ITS THE SURGERY EPISODE BABY!!! ME AND THE HOMIES NEED SOME NEW FACES FOR OUR NEW PLAN, AND WHO BETTER TO GET THE JOB DONE THAN THE TWO MOST EVIL PEOPLE WE'VE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF HAVING OUR LIVES VIOLATED BY? I MEAN IT WOULD BE FUNNY. IT WOULD BE FUNNY.

[mc-tummy-blur]

Didn't expect the year of our Lord 2025 to get into Alan Rickman, but I guess that's how it goes sometimes

The year of getting into an actor that so far I have only seen portray maladjusted men

[slightlytoastedbagel]

actually On Your Feet gave us two good things (well. three if you like Realize which I do). Kohane's "it's frustrating" line and the great crack fic idea of Vivid Bad Squad getting cancelled online for skipping school to yell at The Kotaki Taiga as he was about to go back to America.

[girls-and-honey]

.

[tequatls-favorite-spoon]

my art from the na vs art party!! took me a lil bit cuz i wanted to color it and that meant cleaning up the sketches and then i wanted to shade them and hajsksldhaflk

the characters from left to right:

Quinn Teeling - @sunsrefuge

Ambrose Wolfsbane - @commander-gloryforge

Finnegän - @pinecone-enthusiast

Astrëllä - @ohpollenpowder

[bookworm-2692]

After the absolute carnage and chaos of Session 3 and 4, I desperately wanted to see a graph of everyone’s life left compared to each other, and this is the result of that. I will include close ups of each session below the cut, as well as screenshots of the full (colour-coded!!) data. Updates: Session 5, Session 6, Session 7, Session 8.

Note that I’m using the times that everyone should have based on their kills and deaths, and not what was actually shown (since I know Tango was accidentally given 1.5 hours for his boogey kill instead of just 1 hour, and Skizz hasn’t yet received his 30 minutes for killing Tango), so we’ll see if these times are rectified for Session 5, or if I will adjust my graph to show what is actually used.

Before I show the close ups, I just want to explain the colours used. I picked a base colour for each team and then used a different shade of that colour for each member of the team, to make it easier when looking at a mess of lines. TIES are red because Tango made the bowtie on the tower red (and also because of the red tie in Skizz’s skin, and also Tango’s skin is red). The Bad Boys are green because of all their crops (wheat and potatoes and carrots so far). The Nosy Neighbours are purple because of Watcher-related reasons. Mean Gills are teal because of the coral reef and the warm water colour (and also Scott’s hair). Clockers are orange because Minecraft clocks are gold, and orange is the closest colour to that. Below is a screenshot of all the colour choices I had, and I labeled each one with the player I picked for it

Now for the close ups of each session, with labelling for where each player is at at the end of each session. The grey squiggly downward line is simply the average of all the players’ times at that instant, and the green, yellow, and red horizontal lines mark out 24, 16, and 8 hours respectively. There are no markings for the number of hours, but each gridline is an additional hour, so you can count up and down from the colour-coded lines.

Session 1 close up

Session 2 close up

Session 3 close up

Session 4 close up

So as you can see... there’s less than three hours between the bottom nine people, and a much larger gap from them to the top five. And all three of Skizz’s teammates are amongst those with the most time, so I don’t think Skizz will be first out if TIES play their cards right.

Next I am going to show the data tables I used to generate the graphs! I colour coded them so you can easily see green lives vs yellow lives, and also how often some people switched between them (and you can also see the single second Scar technically turned green during Session 3 before dying, which is also the weird orange vertical line on the graph).

There’s a new row every ten minutes, and every death created two new rows, the first of which is the times a second before the death, and the second is after the death, in order to create the sudden vertical drop.

Deaths are marked with red borders around the box, and time being gained is marked with a green border. All times are in hours and only display to two decimal places, but were calculated down to the second (and the times in hours, minutes, and seconds can be seen at the very left.

Without further ado:

Session 1 data

Session 2 data

Session 3 data

Session 4 data

I find this is a super good visualiser of all the green and yellow switches during the session.

And to visualise the absolute chaos of a specific ten minute segment during Session 3... below shows how much space the chaotic ten minutes takes up in the data due to all the deaths... compared to the entire two hours before it (remembering each row is a new ten minutes or a new death... so for a single ten minute segment to take up almost as much space as two hours, really shows a lot)

Anyway, I had an absolute blast putting all this data together and I’ve spent so much time since the weekend just staring at all the pretty graphs and data. I hope this helps other people keep track of all the death and carnage and times and so on, like it helped me.

[ekingston]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

PLEASE check my later versions of this post via my main page to make sure you have the latest version of this post before you reblog. All the information I’ve been able to gather is in my reblogs below, and it's frustrating to see the old version getting passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much!

[malcriada]

Hazem @hazempalestine has had to remake his account 3(!) times because tumblr keeps banning him.

this causes his campaign to experience severe stagnation which he cannot afford.

Hazem has not been able to see his family since 2018!! he is far away from them and has to live in a state of constant anxiety about their wellbeing.

his parents, 4 brothers and his sister live in Jabalia camp under the most terrible circumstance.

they have only very limited access to food, clean water and medicine and are suffering immensely after the loss of their home. this is especially hard for the children, who often have to wait hours in line to get water for the family.

Hazem is a friend of @bilal-salah0 who has vouched for his campaign on numerous occasions. Bilal himself is vetted and on the fundraiser list by @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi here (#132, line 136)

Bilal told me that Hazem‘s family is like his second family back in Gaza. so naturally, he is also very worried about them.

please, follow Hazem here @hazempalestine, share his posts, amplify his campaign and donate so he may evacuate his family when the crossing opens back up again!

€3,462 / €50,000

this campaign is still very low on funds. please help Hazem's family!

tagging for reach under the cut, please let me know if you'd like to not be added to this

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako

@feluka @terroristiraqis @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria

@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @khanger @neechees @vakarians-babe

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @marnota @7bitter @tortiefrancis

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @criptochecca

@aristotels @komsomolka @xinakwans @heritageposts @nibeul

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat

@watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @yugiohz

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @northgazaupdates2

[nottslove]

The Other Girls (t.n)

Pairing: theo nott x fem!malfoy reader

Warnings: VERY VERY VERY LONG!!!!! 18+, mdni, smut, some fluff, a little angst, draco's little sister, brother's bsf, choking, nipple play, fingering, heavy cursing, drug use (theo smoking), corruption kink, degrading, praising, google-translated italian, porn with plot, obsessive/possessive theo, innocent reader, inexperienced reader x very experienced theo, lowercaps intended.

Summary: you're draco malfoy's younger sister by a year, and you've had a crush on theo all your life. you and theo were close childhood friends, but when he went to hogwarts, he forgot all about you. you joined hogwarts a year later, and unfortunately got sorted into gryffindor. as a result, theo and you only drifted apart further. he was always surrounded by girls. as the years go by, you try to get theo's attention in every way, but he never notices you. as a last resort, you end up taking advice from the girls that theo hangs around, in hopes that maybe... maybe it might finally work...

Author's note: WARNING: VERY VERY LONG! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! (sorry but i tend to get carried away with the details). This is my first time writing smut, or posting it here on tumblr... Please be nice. Also, many many apologies that this is super, super long... Kinda got carried away.. Enjoy :))

THEO always spent Christmas at Malfoy Manor. Ever since his mother's death, and his father always having some sort of 'business trip,' Narcissa suggested that Theo resided with the Malfoys for the whole Christmas break, and some of the summer.

You had always loved him. Since you were three years old, you used to follow him and Draco around, tagging along after both of them, much to your older brother's annoyance.

Even during your Hogwarts years, you always tried to attract his attention, trying to show him you were all grown up, that you were more than Draco's little sister. But he never saw, he never once acknowledged you as anything other than a sisterly figure.

During your fifth year at Hogwarts, you realized that Theo was never going to reciprocate your feelings, so you decided to try and get over him. You weren't allowed boyfriends. Draco always beat up any guy who dared to ask you out, and Theo did the exact same. Any guy who talked to you, or said something about you behind your back, or even looked at you, would end up in the hospital wing. As a result, you had been stood up many times, wondering why your date never showed up, only to realize he had either been beaten up, or scared away by Theo and Draco. That night always ended up with you crying.

You were never allowed to go to parties, or drink either. Draco and Lucius were always very, very protective over you. You were the Malfoy princess, the youngest child, the favorite, the spoiled little girl...

Yet somehow, right before the Christmas break, you gave in to your little rebellious streak and your friend's persuasion to sneak into one of the Slytherin parties.

The moment you got to the party, you were completely shocked. This was nothing like what you had in mind... Your outfit, a pretty, dainty, little white dress with a skater skirt felt far too modest, and the whole room smelt of weed, sweat and alcohol. People were publicly making out, the girls dressed in the skimpiest clothing you ever saw, and at the center of it all, next to Draco and his friends, you saw him.

Your breath hitched. He was sitting on the couch, legs slightly spread, surrounded by girls, one was even on his lap, and he was holding a cigarette. Smoke surrounded him as he blew it out from his mouth, laughing as his hand trailed up and down the girl's thigh.

All at once, you felt jealous. All the feelings for him you had tried so hard to bury came surfacing, and your blood boiled with anger, hurt, betrayal... What did Theo see in those girls that he never saw in you??

You quickly turned around, before Theo, or your brother saw you, and accepting the firewhiskey your friend had gotten for you— even though you'd never drunk before.

One sip became one glass, and before you knew it, you were intoxicated enough to dance to the loud music, and you were soon surrounded by a small group of boys, who simply couldn't believe you, of all people, were actually at the party.

Theo had managed to catch sight of you, and he dragged you out of the Slytherin Common room after beating up all three boys to the ground, jaw ticking and fists clenching with anger.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he growled.

Tears pricked your eyes as you stared up at him, but you didn't let them fall. You clenched your jaw, angry at him. He always, always ruined your fun.

"Partying, of course," you replied, a little too sharply for Theo's liking. But then again, you were drunk, after just one glass.

"Does your brother know?" Theo asked, ripping the almost empty glass of firewhiskey from your hand and tossing it aside lazily. "Do you want me to tell him you're here?"

"I don't care," was your reply, you sounded sullen. "You're not my dad, or my brother."

The answer was enough to send Theo into a rage, and he angrily grabbed your wrist with a grip slightly too harsh. "Go," he ordered, his dark blue eyes ablaze. "Go back to your dorm."

That had been the end of it.

Yet somehow, you still couldn't get over the memory of seeing Theo with a girl over his lap, and somehow, you wished that that had been you instead.

After that, you started to slowly eavesdrop on those Slytherin and Ravenclaw girls that usually hung around Theo, and you had managed to learn a few things from them...

One, that Theo loved short skirts, two, that he liked low necklines and tight blouses, and three, that he liked having girls sitting on his lap.

Which is why you were currently wearing the most revealing outfit you'd ever worn in your life, at the moment.

You always gave Theo a present for Christmas, every year, since you were very young, and this year was no different. The only difference was, that instead of leaving it under the tree, you'd be giving it to him in person, this time.

You'd made him some brownies— muggle style. It had been your first time ever baking something, and you were rather nervous of the outcome. Theo loved brownies, since he was young, and for someone who had everything in the world, you felt like something handmade would definitely be seen as more heartfelt.

The little white box of brownies sat on your dresser, wrapped with a pink ribbon— your signature style as you stared into the mirror, scrutinizing your outfit and applying all the finishing touches.

If your parents, or your brother ever saw her in this outfit, she knew she would forever be banned from doing your own shopping.

A baby pink, short, pleated mini skirt rested around your hips, just covering your ass. If you bent over, your ass would most certainly be on full display. You paired it with a lace, white, bralette top, with a deep, plunging V-neckline. It exposed your entire midriff, ending just short of your ribs, the lace transparent enough to see the milky skin underneath.

Your blonde hair was tied into a high ponytail, a few tendrils framed your face. You applied your waterproof mascara and a final layer of lip gloss.

You had never felt so bare. And yet, you felt so confident that you looked pretty.

Grabbing the box of brownies, you glanced at the clock. Ten past midnight. It was officially Christmas. Everyone was in their own rooms, and Theo's was conveniently just down the corridor from yours.

You were completely silent as you left your room, closing the door behind you, and headed to Theo's.

You gently knocked on the door, softly enough for anyone else not to hear.

"Come in," came Theo's lazy drawl.

Cautiously, slowly, nervously, you stepped in, closing the door behind you, the box of brownies held behind your back.

"Hi Theo," you whispered shyly, balancing on your heels.

He hadn't been expecting you. He had probably thought you were Draco.

But God— did his eyes rake your figure when he saw you wearing that tiny fucking skirt. The sight of you standing there, looking so goddamn shy and innocent was refreshing, to say the least.

He was seated on the couch, legs spread slightly, smoking a cigarette. Just like how he had been sitting at the Slytherin party—an empty bottle of whiskey rested on the side-table. The only difference? This time, his shirt was fully unbuttoned, tie draped around his shoulders.

You couldn't help but let your eyes wander down his chiseled abs, his bare muscular chest, and your fingers had the sudden urge to travel down his bare skin.

His hair was tousled, as if he had been running his hands through it... It looked so soft, you wanted to touch it. His dark blue eyes bored into yours with a hint of wickedness. God— he was so attractive.

"Baby Malfoy. I didn't expect to see you," he purred, lips curling into a smirk. "What brings you here at this time of the night?"

Oh, he knew of your feelings for him, he wasn't that oblivious. He knew exactly why you were here.

"I..." He always made you nervous. You couldn't help but stutter. "I came to give you your Christmas present..." you said softly.

"At this time?" he drawled, motioning for you to come closer with two fingers.

His hands.

His fucking hands.

They always drove you insane... Perfectly manicured, long fingers, veiny, defined, smooth... On numerous occasion, you had imagined him holding you with those hands, touching you...

But those were all fantasies.

Slowly, you moved closer, hesitantly, tentatively, cautiously... You didn't answer his question, you merely set the box in his lap and waited for him to open it.

He was quite surprised to see the brownies, to say the least. He had been expecting something else, something... bought.

He raised his eyebrows, looking at you carefully. "You made these?"

You nodded.

"By yourself? The muggle way? For me?"

You nodded again.

Once again, he smirked, and he grabbed a piece, gently biting into it, maintaining eye-contact with you the whole time.

Your heart was beating madly. Your stomach was full of fluttering butterflies, and goosebumps erupted all over your skin, making you feel cold.

Of course, it was winter, and you were dressed in practically nothing.

He chewed it, slowly, still holding your gaze. "It's good," he finally said, licking his lips and placing the box full of the rest of the brownies on the side table. "Good job, Baby Malfoy..."

He spared you no second glance as he went back to reading his book, and once again, you felt a sinking sensation fill you, and disappointment in your heart.

Obviously, he had expected you to leave. But when he still saw you standing there, he raised a brow. "Is something the matter?"

Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away. You shook your head.

He went back to reading.

Until you could stand it no more. He hadn't mentioned one, single thing, one single comment about your outfit. You felt hurt. Hurt that you had put in so much effort, taken so much time to get ready for him, and he hadn't even smiled.

The words slipped out before you could control them.

"Do you like my outfit?" you blurt, sounding a little bit offended. "Don't I look pretty?" you continued, shyly biting your lip.

"You look like a whore," Theo replied coldly, without even looking up from his text.

This time, you couldn't help welling up at his harsh, hurtful words. He never said anything to those other girls when they dressed up like this for him.

"Th-there's no need to be mean," you whimpered, evident hurt in your beautiful silvery gray eyes. You were on the verge of tears. "I.. I spent hours dressing up just for you... and... and then you say—" You broke off, unable to finish your sentence.

That was enough to snatch Theo's attention. His eyes snapped back up to meet yours.

"You dressed up for me?" he echoed, his tone commanding, yet smooth, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

The way you blinked and looked away was enough to tell Theo your answer.

"What gave you the idea I'd like your outfit?" he asked, setting his book aside and putting out his cigarette, leaving the end in the ashtray.

Your cheeks turned red, and you averted your gaze back to the floor. "D-Daphne Greengrass and the other girls," you whispered shyly, very, very softly.

"Is that so?" Theo mused, taking in your every expression.

Slowly, you nodded.

"What else did you hear Daphne Greengrass and the other girls say?" he mocked.

You couldn't catch the irony in his tone until it was too late. Somehow, the answer slipped out before you could catch it. "Th-that you like it when girls sit in your lap," you mumbled, your voice sounding troubled, still very hurt by his words.

He really was mean.

You wanted to go back to your room and never see him again.

"Hm," said Theo thoughtfully, before he slid his tie off his shoulders, crumpled it into a tiny ball and flung it across the room, where it landed directly onto his bed.

"And? Aren't you going to follow their advice?" he asked, inching his legs slightly further apart.

Your eyes slowly slid up to meet his, utterly shocked he would even suggest it when he didn't like you that way.

Tears clung to your eyelashes, and you stood frozen, right there, unable to move.

A dry chuckle rumbled through him, and you hated the way it sent shivers down your spine. "Aren't you? Go on, I'm waiting..."

You blinked, a small whimper leaving you as you took a small step back, ready to go back to your room, but when he patted his lap, as his eyes bored into yours, challenging you, you realized he was being serious about this.

You wanted to leave, but part of you wanted to stay. Your eyes fell down to look at his lap.

This might be your first and last chance to sit on his lap, and before you knew it, you gently perched your bottom on his knee, avoiding his gaze, hands in your lap.

The moment you made contact with him, you felt his breath hitch the slightest bit, but otherwise, he remained composed.

"Like this," he ordered, both hands grabbing your waist and pulling you harshly towards himself, until both your legs were on either side of him and you were straddling his lap.

Fire danced on your skin, especially with the frigid metal rings he wore burning into your skin.

You let out a soft, yet audible gasp and your breath hitched.

Having no clue what to do, or what to say, you shied away from meeting his gaze, nervously chewing on your lower lip, unaware that Theo's eyes were burning into you.

"Good girl..." his praise rumbled in his throat, and once again, those butterflies returned in your abdomen.

His praise sent shivers down your spine, and slowly, tentatively, your eyes slid upwards to catch his gaze.

"Such an obedient whore," he murmured in a low tone, and once again, tears began pricking your eyes. No one had ever spoken to you this way, no one ever dared to.

"I'm... I'm not a whore," you whimpered, your teeth sinking harder into your lower lip.

"Well, you're dressed like a whore," Theo replied, faux pity lacing his tone. "Aren't you?"

You blinked, trying not to cry, but the tears only clung to your lashes and threatened to trail down your cheeks any moment.

"Answer me," he demanded, hands pressing your waist harder, cold rings searing your skin.

"Y-yes," you whispered, your teeth attacking your lower lip once more.

"So since you're dressed like a fucking whore, I'm gonna treat you like it... la mia puttana," he purred, lightly swatting your thigh.

That was all it took for you to break.

"Y-you're being mean," you whimpered, a single tear sliding down your cheek, tears swimming in your pretty gray eyes.

"Aww, poor baby," Theo scoffed. "Never had anyone talk to you like this? Never been treated like a whore before?"

He was breaking you, and he was succeeding. You had always gotten what you wanted, since birth. All you had to do was smile and flutter your eyelashes, maybe pout and fake a few tears...

Theo treated you differently. He didn't treat you like royalty, like you were used to... He treated you like... like a whore, and he seemed totally unaffected by your tears, which were real.

"I.. hate you," you cried, your voice breaking. "I.. I put in all this effort, trying to get you to notice me, and you..."

You broke off, choking a sob, pushing his chest in an attempt to get off his lap, but he only gripped your waist harder, setting you down on his lap and preventing you from moving.

"Sit fucking down," he growled, and you couldn't help but obey. "You're not leaving until I say you are, are we clear, amore?"

You nodded, another small sob leaving you as you gulped.

"I need words," Theo demanded.

"Yes," you whispered, sniffling, refusing to look at him, stubbornly glaring at your lap with your lip stuck between your teeth.

"Good girl," he praised, before his gaze softened slightly, realizing that you had probably learned your lesson. His demeanor shifted, becoming less harsh as he gently lifted his hand to your face, gently caressing your jaw.

Surprised as you were by his tender touch, you still refused to look at him. His thumb gently brushed your tears away, from both eyes.

"Look at me," he requested softly, tone low and very, very gentle.

You slowly lifted your gaze up, as if you expected him his sudden gentleness to be a trick your mind was playing on you. Your eyesight was slightly blurred by the tears you had shed, but as you looked at his face, you could see the softened look in his eyes.

"Shh, don't cry now, Principessa," he murmured softly, thumb gently caressing your cheek bone as he looked into your big, vulnerable gray eyes, full of innocence.

"Pretty girl," he murmured, thumb tracing soothing patters on your cheek.

Your stomach flipped at the praise. You couldn't believe your ears— Did he just call you pretty after calling you a whore??

"You're such a pretty girl, so fucking gorgeous," he continued. "You don't need to wear such revealing clothes, show off your body to look pretty..."

You were silent, yet your sniffles subsided. You were now staring at Theo with rapt attention, his praises slowly bringing back your confidence.

"Those other girls..." he murmured softly. "They're not as beautiful as you, that's why they need to show off their bodies... That's why they dress like whores..."

His voice was soft, delicate around you. "But you..." He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "You're not a whore, you're a fucking princess..."

One of his hands rested on your cheek, the other at his side, on the seat of the couch, next to his pocket. "Why would you listen to the other girls, hm? Why would you want to be like the other girls?"

"I..." you began, finding your voice. "B-because you like them," you whispered. "You notice them.. I thought.. I thought maybe if I become like them, you'd like me too.. You'd notice me too..."

You couldn't hide the pain in your voice, the longing in your tone. And somehow, as the words slipped out, you realized you had practically confessed your obvious feelings for Theo, the feelings you tried so hard to hide.

Once again, you bit your lip, an irksome habit that you'd had since you were young.

Slowly, Theo's thumb gently trailed down your cheek and landed on your lower lip, and he softly tugged it free, away from the grasp of your teeth. His touch was cold against the warmth of your lip, and his thumb lingered there for a while, as if he did not want to pull it away. "I've always noticed you," he confessed, his voice a low mutter.

Your breath hitched, and he chuckled slightly, gently running his thumb across your lower lip.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and your cheeks turned slightly pink at how good Theo's touch felt, even though it was just a little bit.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured softly, and you nodded singly, just once.

"Use your words, Baby," Theo cooed.

"Theo," you whispered, accidentally blurting out his name.

Once again, he slowly moved his hand back to your bare waist, rings pressed into your skin, and his thumb resting just at the hem of your bralette top, underneath your ribs.

His other hand remained on your cheek as his thumb continued caressing your lower lip, coaxing your mouth to open slightly, before he slipped his thumb through your parted lips.

A small whimper left your lips, and you opened your eyes, your gaze locked on his.

Slowly, without even realizing it, your tongue accidentally brushed against the pad of his thumb, and Theo bit back a low groan as he pushed the entirety of his thumb into your mouth.

Your heart was beating thunderously in your chest, and you had no idea what Theo was doing, but whatever it was, you liked it. You didn't want it to stop... You had his attention, and you wanted it on you forever.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you enjoyed the way his thumb fit perfectly in your mouth, until you got carried away, tongue tracing the length of his digit.

Theo suddenly lost it. All his control snapped as a growl escaped him. "Does my dumb little whore want her mouth filled?" he drawled, pulling his thumb away.

Hot. You felt hot with the way he spoke, with the way his words drove you insane. Even though he called you a whore, this time, you liked it. Because he called you his pretty little whore.

A whimper left you when he pulled his thumb away, disappointed at the lack of contact.

A smirk curled across his lips and he let out a small chuckle. "Mm, that's what I thought," he whispered, more to himself than to you.

Before you knew it, he had pushed the tips of two of his fingers into your mouth; his index and middle, fingertips pressing down on the pad of your tongue.

"Let's see how long you can suck on my fingers without gagging, shall we?" he cooed, pushing the rest of his fingers deeper into your mouth, until they were all the way in.

A small groan left you, but it was muffled by his fingers, and slowly, you started sucking on his long digits, your eyes fluttering shut as you lost yourself in a rhythm.

Theo pressed harder on your tongue, activating your gag reflex, and he only chuckled when you gagged.

"Just my fingers, I know you can handle it— such a good girl..." he praised, his other hand tightening around your throat, blocking your airway.

You choked, a huge wad of saliva dribbling down your chin, tears filling your eyes because you couldn't breathe.

The thought of his very large, veiny hands manhandling you like this only turned you on, and he had barely even touched you. You could feel yourself grow wetter between your thighs, and the fact that you were on his lap, barely clothed, only caused your heartbeat to quicken.

He only pulled out his fingers when they were covered in your saliva that dribbled down your chin, and gently wiped them on his lap.

Once again, you were disappointed. It was like he was playing with you. One moment he was all over you, the next... he was gone.

"Theo, please," you whispered, your voice hoarse from being choked.

"What?" he asked, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted. He had expressed it very clearly that he wanted you to use your words, and that was only when he would give in to your desires.

"Please kiss me," you breathed shyly.

He did not hesitate. Both hands gripped your face gently as he kissed you.

He started off gentle, his lips gently brushed against yours, just barely. Then, when he felt your hands gently rest against his bare chest, he dove right into your mouth.

His lips collided with yours, his mouth devouring yours like a man starved.

You moaned softly, whispering his name, and that was all it took for Theo's other hand to roughly grasp your waist and slide you forward, pulling you closer, until your hips were flush with his. "Fuck," he gasped. "Such a pretty little moan—"

His teeth harshly grazed your lower lip, and he took advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue into your mouth, engaging with yours in a fierce tango.

Once again, you felt needier and needier between your thighs, and you were filled with a mixture of fear and anticipation of Theo finding out exactly what effect he had on you.

He pulled away, and your mouth opened to protest, but the sound was drowned out when he attached his lips to your neck. He took a little bit of skin between his teeth, biting your flesh and eliciting a gasp from your lips as he sucked a mark there, his tongue running soothingly over the spot.

When he pulled away, a red spot had already began to bloom against your skin.

He didn't stop there.

His lips began trailing lower and lower as he left hickeys everywhere. Every sensual caress of his lips, every nibble of his teeth sent you into overdrive. His spicy, citrusy cologne kidnapped your senses, only heightening your pleasure.

His lips traveled all over your neck, all over your collarbones, trailing down to your chest. He was leaving hickeys all over the exposed swells of your breasts, your nipples hardening underneath the thin fabric to the point where they were reduced to aching pebbles.

"Wanna feel these perfect tits in my mouth," he murmured, his hands on both your boobs as he squeezed the soft flesh— they were the perfect size to fit into his palm.

You couldn't control your hands as they harshly gripped his hair, your thighs tightening around his hips. Involuntarily, your hand dragged his head down, until his lips came into contact with your clothed nipple.

"So fucking perfect..."

His hot mouth closed over the little nub, saliva dampening the white, lacy fabric. His other hand slowly caressed your other breast, squeezing the soft mound, thumb tracing gentle circles around your nipple through the thin cloth.

He sucked on your tit, before he grabbed the clothed nipple between his teeth and tugged, causing you to yelp.

At last, you could hold back no more.

A loud moan escaped your lips, and you cried out sharply, begging for him. "Theo, please," you whined, begging him to touch you where you needed it most. "I need you— please..."

That was all that was needed for him to unlatch his mouth from your clothed nipple with ragged breathing as he brought his hands to your back and shifted your position.

Now, you were lying down on the couch, and he hovered above you, leaning down to gently kiss you again.

"Tell me what you want, amore," he murmured, lips brushing against yours. He wouldn't push you, he wouldn't do anything you weren't ready for.

Your chest heaved, and you looked up at him pleadingly, your nipples aching underneath the damp fabric of your bralette top and your panties soaked.

"I... I want.. I want.." words failed you, so instead, you took a deep breath and swallowed thickly, gently grasping one of his larger hands in yours, and sliding it from your waist, to your thigh, above your skirt. "Anything," you whispered. "Please, please... touch me..."

Slowly, not wanting to rush you, Theo allowed his hands to gently travel down your bare midriff and your thighs, smoothing down the material of your tiny skirt, the hem barely reaching your mid thigh.

"Gods— so fucking sexy..." he murmured, allowing his hand to slowly slip underneath your skirt and caress your upper thigh, his thumb inching closer and closer to your heat, settling in the split between your thighs, right where you needed him most, resting above your clothed cunt.

"Is this okay?" he whispered softly, thumb gently tracing soft circles over your clit, through the thin, lacy fabric. He did not look underneath your skirt— he kept his eyes trailed on your face, on your flushed cheeks and your pretty eyelashes that kissed the chub of your cheeks every time you blinked.

"Yes," you breathed, nodding softly.

On feeling how soaked your panties were, a hitch blistered in his throat. "Poor baby," he cooed. "You must be so needy..."

You whimpered at the sensation his words sent through you, and you found yourself nodding.

"Let me help, yeah?" Theo murmured, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your panties, hand somewhere underneath your skirt.

He groaned loudly the moment his fingers came into contact with your wetness, and he couldn't help the curses that tumbled past his lips.

His index finger ran up and down your leaking slit, accompanied by his middle finger, whilst his thumb continued rubbing your clit in circles.

He balanced on his knees as he looked into your eyes, his other hand gently sliding the straps of your bralette down, exposing your breasts to the cool air, and to his gaze.

He was hard. So fucking hard.

No one had ever gotten him this hard before, and the sight of you, spread on the couch underneath him, so willingly almost caused him to cum in his pants.

So many times he had envisioned you like this, unbeknownst to you... So many times he had jerked off in the bathroom, imagining what you looked like underneath your clothes.

But he had to hide his desire for you, his obvious need— he couldn't face the wrath of Draco, let alone Lucius.

You were the best Christmas present. The best sight he had ever seen.

"Shit, shit shit—," he rasped, completely speechless, his fingers still playing with your folds underneath your skirt. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he praised, bringing his mouth to one of your nipples as his fingers teased your hole.

You were a whining, moaning, leaking mess for him. You were so wet, you felt like you would explode any moment, yet you needed him— more, more, more.

He seemed to understand, because the moment he licked a long stripe over your nipple, he gently eased the tip of his middle finger into your hole.

"So tight— so perfect," Theo groaned, as your virgin walls fluttered at the invasion, clamping tightly around his finger. He slowly eased it all in, gently pumping it in and out, his eyes watching your reaction for the first time.

Your chest heaved, and your moans grew more frequent at the blissful sensation of having something fill you.

You were content, until Theo eased another finger inside you, pumping both fingers faster into your hole, stretching it. Your eyes widened, and you gripped his hair, tugging on his roots harshly, eliciting a string of muttered curse-words.

"Fuck, fuck— Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo—"

You never realized you could feel this good, and Theo only heightened your pleasure when his two, long fingers curled up inside you, pressing against that fleshy spot.

"Such a tight little cunt," he grunted, words slightly muffled as his teeth attacked your nipple, with roughness that bordered on assault.

You could feel the knot form in your lower abdomen. You spread your legs slightly more as your climax approached, and you made it awfully clear that you were close as your moans grew louder.

"Oh my God—" you gasped. "Theo— ah— please, more... I'm... I feel.."

Theo quickened his pace, his fingers pounding into you as he watched your eyes roll back, your chest heave, your boobs bounce slightly with the way you moved your hips to seek more friction to get you to your climax.

The sound of him sliding his ringed fingers in and out of you was drowned out by your ecstatic moans, as Theo pumped his fingers faster and faster, thumb pressing against your clit. His biceps flexed, the veins popping out as he fingered you, curling and scissoring his fingers to hit that sweet spot over and over again.

His rings were cold against your heat, serving to bring you to your climax faster as they added friction when his fingers pistoned in and out of you.

"You're gonna cum for me—" he promised, hand pinching your nipple harshly, whilst he tugged the other one between his lips, your hips bucking into his fingers.

Her hands were clenched, fingernails digging into her palms as you cried out his name like a prayer. "Theo— ah— fuck... I'm so close... argh—"

That's it, cum for me, lia mia piccola puttana... Cum all over my fingers like a good little slut," he muttered. "Make a mess on my hand..."

With a deliberate force of his hand, he drove his fingers upwards one more time, thumb pressing roughly on your clit to draw out your climax.

With a shudder, and an arch of your back, your walls clenched around his fingers, you finally orgasmed, your body spasming and contorting in pleasure, and there was nothing else on your mind but him.

"That's it, my pretty girl, moan for me," he praised. "You sound so fucking pretty when you moan for me like that..."

Your juices soaked his hand, trailing down his fingers and curling around his wrist, and it was only when your orgasm ended that he stopped thrusting his fingers.

He slowly eased them out of you, blindly sliding your panties back into place with his other hand under your skirt, bringing his long fingers up to his mouth to taste your essence, groaning at how fucking delicious you tasted.

"So fucking sweet," he murmured, licking his fingers completely clean. His dick was hard under his pants, straining against his zipper, but he did not let the attention waver off you.

You watched him, eyes transfixed on his as he slowly slid your bralette back into place, covering your boobs.

"Merry Christmas, Principessa," he whispered softly, gently kissing you.

A smile formed on your lips as you stared up at him, still so shy as you thought about what you had just done. "Merry Christmas, Theo," you whispered back, unable to hide your joy.

You returned to your room a few hours before dawn, before anyone else could catch you. Changing into your pajamas, a constant grin was plastered on your face as you drifted off to sleep.

It lasted for the rest of the Christmas holidays too.

Author's note: there, my first time publishing and writing smut. i hope you guys liked it... please, please reblog/repost (i have no idea how to use tumblr) and let me know if you'd like me to write a part two of this fic.

i know it's super long, but aside from that, i hope it was okay? please let me know your thoughts, comment pleasseeee.

also i take requests, so feel free to send them it!

love, jas.

profile; masterlist;

[voidhope]

The Other Woman

—

Synopsis: Where Miguel leaves Y/N to go back to a different version of his old wife found in another universe.

Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!Reader

Tags: ANGST!!, long term established relationship, heartbreak, marriage, cheating, mental health, cold/distant Miguel

—

A/N: Hi! I don’t really write at all!!

I have been a silent reader on tumblr for years but this idea has been playing in my mind so much I had the urge to write it. I have been down so bad for Miguel been on his tag like 24/7 indulging in all the content creators have been putting out. So I’m excited to join in giving content, however keep in mind I kinda suck! Apologies for any mistakes, anything confusing, or it not being well written enough. Honestly could have made this into multiple parts with better details but nah. Tried my best ^^ since it’s my first time, any feedback is greatly appreciated!

Honestly tbh we all don’t have a solid grasp how the whole canon thing and multi universe works yet so!! A lot of what is written is made up to suit my storyline so please don’t get mad about the inaccuracies.

I love a good angst and today’s story will be EXTRAAA angsty!!! As well kinda long!!

—————————————————

The moment that changed your life was while working on an experiment during your college finals. You were a proud and gifted physics major that was so passionate about discovering and exploring what the world didn’t know.

You had snuck into Alchemax late at night. You wanted to show your professors just how much you could do with the right tools. Next thing you know, playing with their machines, you had spawned a spider right in-front of you. The glowing vibrant red spider had sunk its jaw into your hand.

Your life did a complete turn and you spent the rest of that week freaking out while changes to your body were happening. Causing you to fail your semester after missing exams. Things felt like it could only get worse when a massive blue suited masked man showed up out of nowhere in your dorm interrogating you.

“Where’s the spider?” He had a strong grip on your shoulders. You couldn’t focus while trying to process why this man had what seemed like claws sticking out of the ends of his fingers.

“I don’t know, it like died after it bit me!” You exclaimed nervously at the freakishly strong man. Trying to reach for anything behind you to use as a defense weapon.

“Dios mío no me digas eso…” He groaned loudly letting you go. Having the opportunity to grab something, you threw a sanrio plushie at him. Only causing him to wave his arms in annoyance. “That spider is from my earth and somehow you brought it here. Now you’re a spider-man.”

And the rest is history…

—

You learned that the man was Miguel O’Hara and when he found you he was just starting his missions with the multiverse. You being the few of the firsts to join his team.

Your situation was quite bizarre and he called you an anomaly for a long time, spending hours studying you and also training you. You ended up being the one case that can’t be explained no matter how much effort was put into monitoring you.

Almost like it was meant to be. Your universe remained perfect with its current spider-man doing fine. No big collapse of a black hole or anything. When you got bit by a spider from Earth-928 your DNA merged with that universe making you fit in perfectly. You were one of the only spider-people with an uncertain timeline with new canons being created depending on what universe you were in.

What changed from you being just a piece of research for Miguel is when he then realized that maybe you were a gift from the multiverse. After all the grief and pain he’d went through the universe had given him this person that worked out perfectly no matter how hard he tried to push them away. You fell head over heels for him and vice versa, all while canon events were being created with both of you together.

You were there as his team grew, slowly turning into a family. Then both of you getting married finalizing that this was your home. Everything felt perfect. Although a relationship with Miguel could have its up and down days, nothing could ever tear you both apart. Or so you assumed.

—

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Miguel couldn’t look at you.

“When did this start? Please be honest with me. Did I do something wrong?” You begged at him. You knew he was acting off recently but never did you think it would result to this.

You watched as he exhaled deeply staring at the ground. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you studied his face trying to grasp onto any emotion he was showing. The atmosphere in his office felt so cold. You so badly wanted to catch his gaze and find the warmth and love his red irises used to give you. He was doing everything to push you away. He was abandoning you.

“You did nothing wrong. I met her during a mission 4 months ago.” Was all he replied.

“Who is she?” Your heart kept breaking. His face hardening as the question slipped through your lips. You knew Miguel wouldn’t leave you for just anyone. Deep in your heart you knew what this was about. He never responded but he didn’t need to when you saw his eyes flicker over to his monitor screens. You followed his trace and saw the photo of Gabriella in the corner.

“Does she have another version of your daughter?” You tried again. This is what made him look directly at you. Miguel kept opening and closing his month unsure how to tell you the truth. You weren’t stupid and he knew that. After everything he couldn’t just walk out on you with a lie.

“No.” He paused thinking of how to finally share the truth without it ruining you. There was no way out of this. “She is a younger version of herself. There is no Miguel in her universe and she’s not important to the timeline. She lives a regular life. I-it’s a chance for me to start at the very beginning.”

You felt your heart being ripped out of your chest. You processed the words carefully. She doesn’t have a child yet… Not only was he leaving you for her but he was going to fall in love with her all over again and start a family with her. A family you wanted so badly to have with him.

“What about with what happened last time you tried to live a life in a different universe?” You didn’t understand how this was happening.

He was always so carful he would never do anything to cause that again. Everything you had witness Miguel work so hard for to keep safe for years. Sleepless nights, returning bruised and beaten, frustrations and constant stress. Was it all for nothing? Is he throwing all his work away?

“This is different.” He turned away from you. “I pushed myself then into an already established life. This time I am creating that life. After all the research we did on you…” He knew that this was going to tear you apart. “I learned that if done right I could have a child from two different universes that won’t disrupt anything.”

It clicked to you then that all the research he was doing on you lately was for this. The research he did on you that time was different, personal, intimate even. As he was testing your DNAs together and seeing the outcomes. He mentioned a child and you were foolish enough to assume he was doing research to see what it would be like if you both had one together. You were giddy even as you watched him work. You had both spoken about having a family together in the past but had been too busy with spider activities. You thought it was a sign of him getting more serious about it, knowing how badly he wanted one. You would have never thought he was doing it to see how he could get back his previous child. The one you could never give him.

You had truly believe that Miguel had recovered from his obsession that his grief gave him. He accidentally destroyed a whole universe needing that life back so badly. You had spent late nights watching him re-watch clips over and over of what he had lost. It slowly stopped once your relationship blossomed with him and you thought he was ready to move on and start new. Why would you have never thought that with such a perfect opportunity presented to him that he wouldn’t drop everything for it.

“I think it’s best that you leave.” He spoke with a soft tone. As if not looking at you any longer will make the problem go away. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how he was just throwing you away like this. As if he wasn’t making you dinner, giving soft kisses, whispering I-love-you’s not so long ago.

You felt too choked up to ask anymore questions. Your throat tight and painful as you held back tears from escaping in-front of Miguel. You just nodded and headed straight out the door not being able to handle another second in that room. Your knees and hands were shaky as you speed walked into the nearest bathroom and let it all out.

—

It didn’t take long for everyone else to know something had happened. Everyone had gotten used to seeing you and him sitting together at lunch. You would make him cute lunch boxes and everyone would gag a bit while watching the two of you smile together. Some cringing seeing their scary boss being so soft around you. It was a big surprise when Miguel started to eat alone with a bag of take out food and you no where to be seen.

His teams he sent out for missions were all confused when you weren’t assigned to anything. Knowing you were one of the best, one of them slipped out a “Call for Y/N!” In the middle of fighting an anomaly too strong for them. Miguel only looked away.

It wasn’t until a new woman showed up in Miguel’s office with a grip around his waist. That’s when the spider-community realized that this was way worse than they thought.

—

You on the other hand had spilled everything to Hobie when he caught you that day leaving the bathroom with puffy eyes. You had been staying with him in his universe until you could gather yourself together to return to HQ. You knew you were going to leave for good, but you needed to go back to retrieve all your things. You couldn’t stay with Hobie forever. Worse that you weren’t from there.

You still had some hope that Miguel would come looking for you and tell you that he was all wrong. However almost two months had passed and not a word from him… That’s when you knew it was time you should return to what you once knew.

Stepping into the portal Hobie followed close behind you. He told the few others who were once close to both you and Miguel that you would be visiting. Stepping through the portal you were immediately greeted by Jessica and Peter B Parker.

“Oh, Y/N.” Jess sighed your name sadly while pulling you into a hug. You felt like you wanted to cry all over again. Missing your friends so much. Peter B came behind giving you a hug on the side.

“He’s on a mission right now.” Peter spoke up. “It might be a long one too but don’t waste anytime just incase.”

You nodded pulling away from them. Looking up around the headquarters building faintly smiling at the past memories you had here. You started heading to different areas gathering all the little things you had left around. Hobie had stitched for you a cute backpack with different scraps of patterned clothes and covered in patches of punk band logos but made with hammer space technology. Making it fun for you to fill endless of your things in the bag.

The last stop was in Miguel’s office. Doubt started to fill your mind; maybe he already threw out all of your stuff. Why would he even keep it after all of this? What no one could warn you of was the other person sitting on his platform.

“Hello!” She chirped at you. It felt like the air in your lungs had just been punched out. You knew her too well. From all the photos and videos you had seen peaking over Miguel’s shoulder. However seeing her in person was something you had never expected. You knew it wasn’t the original her but it was a copy paste image for sure.

“Hi.” Was all you managed to choke out. She was beautiful, stunning. You could see clearly now the similar features she shared in another universe with her daughter. The parts that Miguel didn’t have. She kept smiling kindly at you, almost in a graceful way. You started to feel all your insecurities start eating you up from the inside. How could you have ever compared to her.

“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” Getting off Miguel’s platform she walked closer to you. The room started to feel suffocating.

“Y/N.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you! It’s nice to meet other girls around here.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized she had no reaction to your name. So Miguel never told her about you… Or that the fact was he was still even legally married to you.

“My boyfriend isn’t here right now but, if you want, I can tell him you stopped by.” She continued as you stayed silent.

“Oh, no it’s okay. I just came in here to get some stuff.” You rushed as you really wanted nothing to do with Miguel at all. You almost worried that he might even get angry knowing you got to speak with her. If he already dislikes you this much you couldn’t even imagine how he would feel if you got in the way of this for him.

You started heading over to the familiar drawers around the room. Grabbing your old hoodies and shirts finding your most comfortable of things here. You treated this place as one of your safe spaces as you used to spend so much time here.

“Oh I didn’t know these were all yours! I was wondering why this was all around. When I came here I wanted to do some spring cleaning but Miguel wouldn’t let me touch anything.” She followed besides you. “It’s so mind blowing seeing all this technology. We don’t have any of this where I live-“ She continue rambling but you started to zone her out. You felt like you were about to have a panic attack any minute. There was one question that kept burning in your mind.

“Are you and Miguel already planning to have a child?” You blurted out. Your eyes widened a bit as you surprised yourself. She let out a loud laugh.

“Oh dear no! We have only been together about 6 months. You must be new around here so you must not know much about us.” She chuckled.

In some cruel way you were hoping she would have said yes. You had that twisted hope of maybe Miguel just keeping her to have a kid and ditching her after he gets Gabriella and run back to you. In reality he was playing the long game, he really meant it when we said he was starting over. “He’s never mentioned kids anyways. I’m not even sure if he’d like them or do well with them.”

With that statement she made you looked at her appalled. Anyone could see in Miguel how good of a father he could be. Just in the way he takes care of the society he built here. You started to realize that she really has been left in the dark. She doesn’t know anything. She probably doesn’t even know that she’s a replacement of another self. You wondered why Miguel was doing this. It felt like he didn’t just toy with you but with her as well. A man you came to love for how selfless he was, to realize now everything was for his own personal gain. Suddenly you started to feel bad for her. You couldn’t dislike her, she wasn’t doing anything wrong and she doesn’t even know.

“I got all my stuff. Nice to meet you.” Was all you could say as you zipped up your bag and turned straight around out of there. Not giving any glance back at her, you left to one of the empty training rooms to recollect your overwhelming thoughts. All of the self healing you tried the past month thrown in the garbage.

It wouldn’t be too soon that news of you going around the building was returned to Lyla. You had cut out all coms while you were gone so she immediately popped up on your watch when she found out.

“AH-“ You jumped as the tiny AI was suddenly in front of your face.

“It’s so wonderful to see you Y/N. Oh my god!”She started. Then she went on rambling about how she knew everything and had seen everything. How she didn’t agree with what was happening and was doing everything she could to convince you to stay. After 5 minutes of her rambling you stopped her to let your emotions out.

“Lyla, Lyla It’s okay. Just stop. It’s all complicated I know, but this didn’t work out. I wished Miguel just cheated on me like all the other fucked up normal men out there. That I walked in on him deep in another random girl. Though painful I could have tried fixing and fighting for us. But instead what I got was him emotionally cheating on me and chase after something he knows I can never give him.” You felt yourself choke up. “I can never ask him to give up what he longs and dreams for just for me to be happy. I lost this battle the moment he laid eyes on her.”

Finding comfort in the AI your husband made. You’ve created a bond with Lyla that Miguel found cute but you knew now this might be the last time you’ll be speaking with her.

“You can give him a family y/n… you guys have been married two years now. I know you’ve both set the thought aside until the multiverse issues are better but you can fight for him. You have to snap him out of his fantasy. He still thinks about you.”

“Lyla you know deep down truly he never just wanted a family. He wanted exactly what he had. What he lost. Which should be impossible but being by his side seeing how insane the multiverse is… Good for him for believing in something so hard he’s found himself even a third chance to do it.”

“I hate that you’re being too kind about this situation.” Lyla paced around you.

“I love him so deeply Lyla. You know that very well. It’s so hard to suddenly hate him. I am angry, but I’m also emotionally drained I can’t do this.” You let out a deep sigh. “I’ve watched him long for this family when we just met. For some stupid reason when things worked out for us I thought I would be enough… When we got engaged and he would spend some days at home with me not even coming to HQ. I thought he was finally moving on not just from his grief and past but from the weight of his work. I saw a bright future for us.”

“You can still have a bright future with him! You moving here gave him a new canon event, another chance at life in his timeline. Here in his own universe! He’s just too obsessed and he’s lost himself in that.” She exclaimed with her hands up.

“Our canon event was our wedding.” Your frowned deepened. “But the universe didn’t say anything else after. It doesn’t say our canon event means we are suppose to live happily together forever I guess.”

“I’m just trying my best to be optimistic. I rooted so hard for you and Miguel when you joined the team. I know you can remember the amount of times I would force you both in rooms.” Lyla recalled.

“And I’m grateful for it… Even if this didn’t work out. I was given precious memories, not just working with you and being on this team but falling in love with Miguel. I know I’m being all depressed and hopeless but I feel like even if I move on I’ll never be able to replace him and find a relationship like this again. However he threw me away so easily and maybe he never valued me as much as I did to him.” You felt your emotions bubble. “I became who I am here. I’m going to miss everyone so much.”

“You can still stay here and work with us.” She edged on.

“I can’t just sit around here begging at his feet to return to me or moping around doing missions while watching him with someone else. I want to hate him so badly. I know he’s your boss and you’re basically hardwired to do everything for him and you’re trying your hardest to fix what you think is his right path. But think of me a little more and how miserable it’ll be. I’m the only one hurting here.”

Lyla paused and stared at you with an almost glossy-eyed look. While she worked she could see the inner term-oil Miguel was hiding and the emptiness he was turning to since trying to start new in the other universe. It just wasn’t her place to hold this conversation and he was the one who needed to get a grip of himself and really think and talk with you. She can’t be the one trying to mend the pieces for both of you together. What Miguel did was so wrong. She knew you were right and she didn’t want to see any more damage be caused to you.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She looked up at you sincerely. “I hate this outcome for you. Not only are you loosing your husband but your home. When was the last time you’ve even been in your universe?”

“Like a year ago for a mission…”

“Exactly! Even if things are over with Miguel, you have all of us here! I wish you could stay. I understand you leaving, I really do. I know a lot of us will try visiting you but I’m tied to Miguel…” You started to see how it clicked for her too that it’s most likely you might not see each other for a long time. “Even if a spider-person is visiting you I can’t just show up on their watch… It’ll go back to him and I know you wouldn’t want that. I know I’m an AI and I can’t hold real emotions but I mean it when I say I’m going to miss you.”

Tears poured down your cheeks as her words hit you. Going back to your universe is going to be a struggle. You have nothing there now. However nothing can compare to the pain of the outcome you’ve had with Miguel, and you needed out of here ASAP. Your mental health getting worse the longer you stay. Even the other spiders you have come to love can’t bring that spark back right now. You needed genuine time for yourself, even if it’s self destructive, instead of putting on a fake smile everyday here.

“Bye, Lyla.” You whispered. She nodded and waved her hand goodbye at you before disappearing. You took your watch off your wrist placing it on a nearby desk. With it you pulled the divorce paperwork out of your pocket neatly sealed and already signed on your half. Opening a portal you took your last glances at the place you spent so many loving memories in.

Tears blurred your vision as you stepped through the portal. Once your legs landed on a rooftop of a building in your dimension, you racked out full sobs falling to your knees.

You were always just the other woman.

—————————————————

Thank you so much for reading!! I know it was a longer one ~

would anyone like a part 2? If so anyone want a angsty or happy ending? I think it’ll be more in Miguel’s perspective as well!

EDIT: You can now read PART 2 here

[hintsofhoney]

Mine

Paring(s): Alpha!Dean Winchester x F!Omega!Reader

Summary: When Dean is forced to mark Y/N in order to not blow their cover on a case, it leads him to reveal a secret that he's been keeping since they met.

Square(s) Filled: biting for @anyfandomkinkbingo

Tags: 18+, true mates, smut, p in v, marking, a/b/o if that wasn't already obvious lmao, knotting

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Helloooo, it's been a minute. If I'm being honest, I have about 10-15 finished works just sitting in my "ready to post" folder, but posting is always such an ordeal, so they just stay there until I feel like dealing with Tumblr. But, this one I did write over the last two days after I finished reading Bride by Ali Hazelwood, which I loved so much that it made me want to dip my toes into the Omegaverse! That being said, I don't know how much in here is actually in line with A/B/O "rules", but I know I needed to twist some things to fit the story (e.g. in this specific A/B/O fic/universe, claiming marks will fade if they're not true mates). Huge thank you to my A/B/O girlies, @makeadealwithdean and @emoryhemsworth, for reading it over, I love you both to the moon and back! I hope you all enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST |  SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST |  MAIN MASTERLIST

“We get in, find the knife, get out, got it?” Dean asks, looking between Sam in the front seat and Y/N in the back, making sure everyone is on the same page. They both nod once in understanding, before the three of them make their way out of the car, their doors slamming shut simultaneously. 

Y/N stares up at the mansion before them, the music loud, the party raging. It’s some charity event thrown by the wealthiest Alpha in the state, and he just happens to have the weapon they need to finish out this hunt. Y/N stumbles a bit, tripping over the cobblestone driveway in her heels, and she catches the sleeve of Dean’s suit to steady herself. He shoots her a glare that tells her to pull it together. They need to blend in.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“Here,” Dean replies, grabbing her wrist and pulling it through the crook formed by his bent elbow, forcing them to walk arm-in-arm.

“I don’t need –”

“You are an Omega, Y/N. And there are upwards of a hundred Alphas here who can all smell it. So what you need to do is start acting like one. Just because I’m not some asshole Alpha who demands your respect doesn’t mean they aren’t, and we can’t risk drawing attention to ourselves.”

Y/N takes a deep breath and plasters on a fake smile as they move slowly up the driveway. “Anyone who demands my respect just because of some bullshit biological hierarchy doesn’t deserve it,” she grits out.

Dean stops, turning to face her, one of his hands on either side of her biceps. “Do you want to be on this case or not?” 

His voice is lower than usual, demanding and gruff. A voice he only uses when he wants to remind her that he is an Alpha, and bullshit biological hierarchy aside, her body is wired to listen to him. 

She gulps, and he tries not to focus on the bob in her throat, the pulse in her neck near her gland, the scent of her. The moment he met her he knew who she was, what they were. Are. He’s been taking scent blockers since before he met her, finding it far easier to interact with other Alphas when investigating cases if they couldn’t scent him out, but the moment he met her, he knew he had to start taking rut blockers too. Though, it feels like the longer he’s around her, the more immune he becomes to the pills. Like she’s going to send him into a rut any fucking second, and she has no idea. He’s thought about telling her so many times, but mates come with strings. Strings that aren’t conducive to the life of a hunter.

“Yes,” she answers his question meekly, almost submissively, and he nods to cover the hormones he forces himself to swallow down. Rejecting your biology is not easy, no matter how many pills you take.

“Then I’m going to need you to take my arm, put on a smile, and act like being an Omega is the greatest joy of your life. That means –”

“I know how to be a good little Omega, Dean,” she interrupts, dragging the words ‘good little Omega’ through a sarcastic tone.

He tenses slightly at her words, sarcastic or not. Good little Omega.

“I’m only bad for you,” she continues with a cheeky wink, and fuck, he might explode. Hell, he might take her into the bushes right now and mark her, claim her, before parading her around in front of this entire fucking party with his teeth marks on her neck. He’s rigid, trying to keep himself under control, and she gives him a playful pat on his shoulder. “Lighten up, Alpha,” she teases. “I’ll be a good girl.”

Jesus fucking Christ. He gives her biceps a squeeze that he hopes comes off as reassuring as he’s trying to make it seem, before linking his arm with hers once more and catching up to Sam at the front of the driveway.

The trio is greeted by the owner of the mansion himself, one Jim Myers, who welcomes them in with a smile on his face and a cigar in his hand. 

“How Gatsby-esque,” Y/N mutters under her breath, watching as Myers shakes Sam’s hand.

Dean nods in agreement. “You definitely wore the right outfit.”

Y/N blushes as she looks down at her dress; a black, semi body-hugging cocktail dress bedazzled with gold sequins in some sort of art deco pattern. All she’s missing is a cigarette holder and a feather in her hair. 

“Only because I read the invitation. Unlike some of us,” she mumbles in reply.

“Watch it, Omega,” Dean grits out, plastering on a smile as soon as Myers comes over to greet him.

“Jim Myers, pleasure,” he says, shaking Dean’s hand.

“Dean. And this is Y/N.”

She keeps the cordial smile on her face as Jim takes her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently before inhaling her scent. 

“Pleasure, Miss Y/N,” he says with a feral grin, his eyes darkening with unmistakable lust as he lets her hand fall back to her side. 

Dean takes a step forward, unable to stop himself. “Mine,” he practically growls, and Jim takes a step back, throwing his hands up in surrender. 

“My apologies. I didn’t see a mark, so I just assumed.”

Dean falters, clearing his throat, suddenly reminded of the reason they’re all here in the first place. “No, that’s alright. It’s my fault for not putting it in a visible place.” His eyes dart over to Y/N’s. “I think I’m gonna fix that.”

She ducks her head but can’t hide the red flush that creeps up into her cheeks, reminding herself that it’s just her biology, and that this is all for show anyway. They’re here to do a job, and sometimes those jobs involve… well, whatever the hell just happened. And clearly, Dean is a better actor than she gives him credit for.

Jim chuckles, clasping his hands together. “Well, you three have fun, the drinks are free, the food is good, and if you,” he points at Sam, “good sir, are in search of an Omega, there are plenty to choose from.”

Sam blushes. “Right.” He nods. “Thanks.”

And with that, Jim disappears into the crowd.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Sam says. “You two go. Upstairs, down the hall, third door on the right. If I got the right blueprints.”

“If you got the right blueprints?” Dean asks.

“Just go.” He taps his ear to indicate that he’ll drop in on Dean’s earpiece if anything goes wrong. 

Dean sighs, taking Y/N by the hand and leading her up the stairs. He weaves in and out of the crowd, the scents of everyone mixing together, making it impossible to decipher who is what. Y/N’s never been more glad to be on heat suppressors; knowing full well the scents of this many Alphas invading her nostrils would send her body into a major one.

Dean quickly finds the door, and they slip into the room unnoticed, closing the barrier and switching on the light. It’s a bedroom — the master, from the looks of it — and the knife is right in front of them in the middle of the room, across from the foot of the bed. It’s in a glass case, on display, and likely armed with a million alarms, but right in front of them nonetheless. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about what the next move should be.

“We could find something that weighs the same? Lift the glass and replace it super fast?” Y/N offers.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s the glass that’s probably set to trip an alarm. But the fact that you’re applying Indiana Jones to real life scenarios is making me want to —” 

He stops himself, realizing what he was about to say. He needs to get himself under control but Y/N in that dress with her smart fucking mouth, with other Alphas eyeing her, he really shouldn’t be here, with her, alone, and —

“Making you want to what?” she asks.

Shit. “Making me want to… make you watch more of them,” he replies, opting to circle the display case, searching it for a way in to distract himself from her. 

“Oh, goody. Can’t wait.” She’s as monotone and sarcastic as ever, and every time something smart comes out of her mouth he has to resist the urge to bend her over and fuck her right then.

“Get out of there now,” Sam’s voice comes in on Dean’s earpiece. “Lost track of him for a few seconds, just found him again. He’s making his way upstairs.”

“Shit,” Dean says. “Shit, shit, shit.” He looks around the room frantically. If they go out the door, Myers will without a doubt see them leaving his room. “Myers is coming,” he explains to a confused-looking Y/N.

“Fucking — God dammit.” She looks around too, for a hiding spot, for a weapon, and then she spots herself in the mirror hanging on the wall and an idea comes to her. “Mark me,” she orders.

“What?” Dean snaps, his attention fully on her.

“Get over here and mark me. You told him you were going to make it visible.” She continues before Dean can protest. “Who knows if it’ll even stay, it’s not like we’re mates, right? And if it does, I don’t mind being bound to you for the rest of ever. It’s not like I’m having much luck in the relationship department anyway. But we need that knife, and we’re not going to get it if we don’t –”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath with a quick shake of his head, before he strides across the room and pushes her up against the wall just in time to hear the door click. He inhales her scent, his mouth trailing from the base of her jaw all the way down to her mating gland where it hovers as the door opens all the way. Then he bites down.

Y/N throws her head back, her fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders as his teeth sink into her, and none of it is for show. The pain is euphoric, and her senses heighten, and she suddenly wishes she hadn’t been so stringent on taking her fucking pills, because whatever this feeling is, coursing through her veins, settling in her core, she needs to feel it more. She can’t stand how dulled it is, how it just stays there, simmering underneath the surface. She wants to erupt. 

“Mm, fuck, Alpha!” she cries out, no trace of sarcasm in her voice, and Dean’s hands grip her hips tight enough to bruise them. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Jim exclaims. “Got an alert that someone was in here, there’s some very valuable things in here, you see, and I just wanted to make sure —”

Dean pulls away from her neck long enough to shoot him a glare that translates to “get out or I’m going to kill you”, and Jim gets the message, backing out the door and shutting it behind him. 

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, letting his forehead fall to Y/N’s shoulder. He shouldn’t be so close to her. He should back away, give himself some space to breathe. But her scent keeps him rooted in place. It’s her usual scent; something like freshly baked sugar cookies and vanilla, sweet and enticing, but there’s something else, something —

“Are you guys okay?” Sam’s voice in his damn ear again.

Dean lifts his head and presses the button on his earpiece to reply. “Fine, Sam. Give us a second.” Then he takes the earpiece out and tosses it over his shoulder, more agitated than he should be at his brother just trying to check in.

“Dean,” she breathes, and she sounds absolutely wrecked. She brings her hands to his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “Are you okay?” 

He nods. Her touch is like fire on his skin. He needs her. 

Y/N squeezes her thighs together. She’s never been able to scent Dean before, but he’s never been this close for this long. He’s never marked her, either. Right now his scent is breaking through the suppressants, little by little. It’s bits of cedar and leather and whiskey, and she’s never smelt anything like it, yet it is so familiar somehow. It invades her senses, and if this is what he smells like with suppressants, she’s terrified of what would happen without them.

“Dean… your scent.” She closes her eyes and inhales deeply.

“Fuck, my pills must’ve worn off, I —”

She shakes her head. “It’s dulled but… but it’s there.” Her thighs clench together again, and she needs him back on her skin. “It’s there and it’s so fucking good.”

Dean’s eyes fall to the gland on her neck, and the severity of what he’s done comes crashing into him like a wrecking ball. It’s enough to force him to take a step away from her, panic rising in his chest. “I – fuck. I marked you. I fucking marked you.”

Y/N’s fingers come up to graze the indent on her neck, and she shudders at the touch. “I told you to.”

“No, you don’t understand, Y/N –”

“I know what happens when mates get marked, Dean,” she interrupts matter-of-factly. “I’m sure this’ll fade.”

“It won’t. I – I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck. Fuck!” He turns to the wall next to him, hitting it with the side of his closed fist. 

“Dean.” Her touch on his arm is gentle and comforting, but he doesn’t turn to face her. “You need to calm down. It’s really not a big deal, I –”

Dean takes a deep breath, both hands on the wall now as he collects himself. He can’t even bring himself to look at her when he says, “You’re my mate, Y/N.”

She takes a step back, and her fading scent is what makes him finally face her. She’s halfway across the room by the time he does. 

“W-what do you mean?”

“You’re my mate, Y/N,” he repeats.

She shakes her head, her hand coming to her neck again, the teeth marks seared into her skin. “N-no. H-how? When? How – how long have you known?”

Dean takes another long, deep breath. He could lose her tonight. She could run and never come back and he wouldn’t blame her. “Since we met.”

“THREE YEARS!?” she roars. “YOU’VE KNOWN FOR THREE FUCKING YEARS!?”

“Y/N, I –”

She stalks toward him, one finger outstretched, one fist clenched by her side. She points at him as she backs him into a wall, and he’s incredibly turned on and incredibly scared at the same time. 

“You’ve known that we’re fucking mates for three years, and you didn’t feel as though that was pertinent fucking information to tell me!?”

Dean swallows. “I – it’s – there are… strings with mates. You know that. I didn’t want to ball and chain you. I didn’t want to keep you anywhere you didn’t want to be. And if – fuck – we’re hunters, Y/N. If something had happened to me, and you knew… I didn’t want you to have to live with that. With the pain that comes with losing a true mate.”

Y/N stops half a foot away and drops her accusatory finger. “What did you say?” she whispers.

“True… mates,” Dean breathes.

“We’re…? But… We never – I don’t –”

“With me on my pills, and you on your pills, I think it was enough to… so we just never…”

“But you knew,” she says, closing the gap between them, her hand coming up to caress his cheek. “You knew for so long and you watched me go on dates, had to listen about the… things I did with other Alphas… if I had mated with one of them, you –”

“You deserved to have a choice. Regardless of what I wanted, you deserved to have a choice.” 

“My choice could’ve left you depressed and alone and celibate forever, you fucking dumbass.” 

He shrugs, and her hand falls to rest over his heart. She stares at it as she continues.

“When you… marked me… I felt… I don’t know what I felt. Nothing’s ever been so intense.”

She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and he smiles softly.

“That’s the bond,” he explains, his large palm coming to rest over the hand on his chest. 

“And if we weren’t on… our blockers?”

“If we weren’t on our blockers, there’s no fucking telling how many pups we’d have running around by now.”

Y/N shivers as the thought of being bred settles in her core, and for once she’s not cursing her biology. Dean chuckles faintly at her reaction, dropping his forehead to hers. 

“We can practice in the meantime. Until you decide you want off of them.”

She inhales deeply, taking in as much of his scent as she can. “Oh, I –” another deep breath, “I’m getting off of them for sure.”

Dean lets out a borderline animalistic growl, thinking about how many times he’ll get to fuck her through that first heat. “I’m gonna stop taking my pills, too,” he says breathily.

“Yeah?”

“I had to get on rut blockers when you moved into the Bunker because I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself. But now,” he says, spinning them both around and pinning Y/N against the wall, “now I don’t fuckin’ have to.”

“Dean,” she half gasps, half moans. He kisses the mark on her neck before licking all the way up to her jaw line and pulling back. 

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, Omega.”

She meets his feral gaze with one of her own, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Prove it.” 

And it might be an incredibly stupid thing to say to a horny Alpha, but it’s also Dean. And he’d never hurt her.

“Mm, fuck.” His voice is raspy and wrecked and they haven’t even done anything yet. Before Y/N can process what’s happening, he’s picking her up and throwing her onto the bed. He climbs over her, hovering for a moment, taking in her flushed cheeks, the warmth radiating off of her, her scent. “You’re beautiful,” he states plainly, like it’s the one fact in the world that he knows without a doubt to be true. 

Y/N blushes. “Thank you, Alpha.” She says it because she knows what it does to him. 

“You’re beautiful, and I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.” 

A gasp leaves her lips as he pushes her dress up her hips and moves down her body to the foot of the mattress, his fingertips dancing along the hem of her panties before his eyes meet with hers. She gives him a nod, and it’s all the confirmation he needs before pulling them down her legs and tossing them aside. 

He watches hungrily as she spreads her thighs, her core damn near dripping with her wetness, and if this is what it’s like when she’s on heat blockers, he can’t even begin to imagine what it’ll look like covered in her slick. His cock grows hard in his slacks at the thought, and he has to step off the bed to take off his pants and boxers before the containment grows painful. He shrugs off his suit jacket and white dress shirt too, and when he’s standing in front of the bed, fully naked, Y/N is propping herself up on her elbows to take him in.

“Holy – fuck,” is all she can get out. 

Dean chuckles deeply, one knee coming up onto the mattress as he fists his cock. “Fuck, sweetheart.” He looks her over again, pussy glistening, nipples peaked through her dress. “Fuck, I want you to – would you present for me?”

A smirk spreads across her lips, but she doesn’t say anything before flipping over and assuming the position. Ass up, legs shoulder width apart, chest resting on the mattress. 

Dean lets out a low and guttural, “Fuuuuck,” and it’s enough to make her pussy clench around nothing. She feels the mattress dip behind her, and when his cock starts to move through her folds, she almost cums right then and there. 

“I know you you wish you weren’t an Omega,” he starts, “but you’re a fuckin’ perfect one, baby.” 

She shakes her head, soft whimpers escaping her as he continues to tease her with his dick. “I’m glad I’m an Omega, because I’m yours.” 

With that, Dean loses what little self control he has left. He lines himself up with her entrance and sinks into her heat, and she feels so fucking perfect, the way she molds around his cock. The noises leaving her throat spur him on as he thrusts into her, setting a bruising pace. He wraps his hand around her shoulder for leverage, his other gripping her ass.

“Oh my fuck!” she practically screams, and he can feel how close she is, can smell it. 

“You’re gonna be a good little Omega and cum for me, aren’t you baby?” he pants, and he couldn’t be thrusting deeper if he tried.

She nods frantically. “Yesyesyes, please, Alpha, I wanna to cum. I wanna — mm, fuck — on your —”

She’s too fucked out to even finish her sentence, and Dean can feel himself about to fall over the edge. “What’s that, sweetheart? Speak up.”

“I wanna cum — oh, God! — on your knot. Fucking fill me up, Dean, please.”

He barely manages another thrust before he buries himself to the hilt, the base of his cock swelling inside her as he pumps her full of his seed.

The feeling of him filling her sends her over the edge, her pussy clenching around his cock, his knot, and she feels so full and fucked and sated.

“Oh my fucking fuuuuck,” he groans, feeling her pulse around him. “Fuck, everyone and this fuckin’ party is gonna be able to smell me inside of you.”

She moans at his words.

“Gonna have me dripping down your thighs ‘til we get back home.” His hand squeezes the globe of her ass before he leans over, getting as close to her ear as he can. “And then I’m gonna fuck you again. And again. And again. Because we got three years to make up for.” He nips at her ear playfully. “And now you’re finally mine.”

[dear-ao3]

You can't hide the bit about starting a cult in the tags. We demand the story.

once upon a time i was a menace of a 15 year old taking high school chemistry. and this was not a particularly advanced chemistry class. we had ancient bunsen burners, occasionally we lit things on fire, sometimes there were chemicals involved, but for the most part, it was standard run of the mill shit.

the class was divided into two groups of people:

The Trouble Makers and the People Who Didnt Cause (many) Problems

as a mostly straight a and usually honors (when it wasnt science) student, i fell into the second category.

this class was 8th period, last period of the day, and the teacher was new that year. we will call him mr a.

mr a was on the younger side and seemed like a dude who wanted to have fun with us (essential for a science class). unfortunately he was teaching a batch of idiots (myself included).

its been several years so i dont remember the exact politics of this class, but i do know that it was populated by the two guys who stuck a pop tart still in the foil in the band room microwave and nearly lit the entire building on fire, a few class clowns, some very stereotypical football players, two guys who were positively dumb as bricks and constantly acted like they were on the verge or breaking up or getting back together (they were not dating at all. they were both and still are very straight), and then there was me and a few other girls who mostly just minded our business and watched the chaos unfold.

mr a's mistake was that he engaged with the insanity caused by The Trouble Makers. which resulted in even more insanity. he only lasted one year. he hated all of us but he might have hated himself more.

he did like me and my friends tho because again, we did not cause problems.

you might be wondering what kind of problems could be caused in a high school chemistry class. well lots. for starters one of the outlets in the room was taped over with NO JUSTIN! BAD JUSTIN! written on it because one kid thought it would be funny to stick scissors in the outlet in a different class (true story). there were broken beakers, smashed glass, general insanity. again, not an honors class so most of us didnt really care about it as long as we passed. there was one time he told us (jokingly) that we should only drink pepsi because his wife worked for the company and it would help fund his kids college career or something. two days later five guys came in with coke bottles. that was the kind of class this was.

but we still learned chemistry. probably. i dont actually know.

this guy taught lessons like he was reading a tumblr text post. like full on "so the guy hated that guy cause xyz and smited him in the science journals for this that and the other thing" it was entertaining.

i remember learning two things in this class. one was that salt is NaCl. which mr a called "our good friend nackle" the second we will get to in a minute.

one of the things we had to do in class relatively early on was decorate a periodic table that we would be allowed to use for tests. like color code and all that. we were allowed to use it for tests because there was a Giant periodic table hanging in the room and mr a was "too short to cover that up"

well, that periodic table proved to become his worst nightmare.

now. remember that i am 15. i am a sophomore in high school. i have not yet had to consider the horrors of college. i am at peace. aside from this chemistry class i am also taking a dance class (that i didnt like), ap english language (which was terrifying because im really bad at deeper meaning in texts), honors algebra 2 (which i Barely passed), latin III (another class i was pretty shit at, but it was fun), crafts 2 (which was wonderful), gym (thats a totally Other story) and honors united states history (which i loved). i was also dancing about 20 hours a week outside of school. but most of my schedule required me to be a good little honors student and mind my business. i was also, by all accounts, an absolute loser and a nobody and had very few friends and was totally unknown to most popular kids. however, you all know me on this blog and know im a little shit and it was only a matter of time before i caused problems Somewhere.

and that somewhere came one blissful day during 8th period chemistry when mr a asked me something about the number of electrons on carbon.

and i (to my credit) was entirely zoned out because again it was 8th period. but i gave him an answer. it was the right answer. what the answer is now i have no idea because i went on to get a ba degree in history and my eyes have not graced the periodic table since this class.

and then he asked me "how do you know thats the right answer"

and i said, in all my zoned out, infinite wisdom "it says so on the periodic chart"

isnt a periodic table? you might be asking.

well you are correct.

but you see. the giant periodic table above the front of the board at the front of the room was from the 70s. and it didnt say periodic table. it said "periodic chart of the elements"

and i, being zoned out, just read the damn name off of the thing because what the fuck else is a girl to do.

and mr a says "its a table. the periodic table."

and i, who have now zoned back in and realized my mistake, refuse to admit that i was just zoned out in class so i say, like any reasonable person, "then why does it say periodic chart up there?"

and mr a said "i dont know, its old."

and i said "well it says chart. so why cant we call it chart?"

and mr a said "because its a table."

and me, because im a little shit and also 15 and there were probably also 10 minutes left in the school day said "i think we should be allowed to call it a chart. it says so right there."

and well. that was all the go ahead the trouble makers in the class needed to hear.

from then on, it was the periodic chart. we all called it that. all of 8th period. and mr a HATED it. if you wrote chart on your test you got points taken off (which i never did because i wasnt an idiot but i would put little smiley faces next to my answer and he would draw a frown face when he graded my paper next to it). if you said it when you answered a question he would pretend he hadn't heard you.

it was such a phenomenon that it spread to his other classes. everyone called it the periodic chart. the scissors in the outlet kid. the pop tart kids. the football players. everyone. it was a chart. not a table. to this day i still call it a chart.

though, i think he was just mad that my cult (which he did call a cult, the periodic chart cult) was more successful than his stoichiometry cult. which was basically that we all had to repeat stoichiometry back to him every time he said it. that is the second thing i learned in this class. dont ask me what it is though, i just remember the name.

at the end of the year we parted ways, mr a silently glaring at me for my chart crimes, never to return to our school (probably because he got fired, unrelated to my chart crimes). despite this, he did still like me as a student, and i did get an a in his class, though it probably pained him to give it to me.

the following year i had physics in the same classroom, periodic chart overlooking me.

i used my iPhone 5c to take a photo of a white board and accidentally dropped it six inches onto the lab bench. the screen grayed out and it never turned on again.

the chart had cursed me for my hubris.

[mandalhoerian]

Repost because tumblr's tags were broken yesterday and it ate my post up 😞 Spoilers and translation notes for Rafayel's intertidal zone & analysis because it kinda floored me, I was just as a blank page as he was throughout this. I had to watch it like 5 times to understand what the story was saying and dig into chinese and japanese versions of this to piece together what was really happening. It may be my idiot brain not getting it and maybe it was like the easiest thing to understand for you but. Yeah. I may be just dumb LMFAO AND!!!! There's also a theory of mine into how Rafayel is actually able to read mc's mind/wishes through their lemurian bond, so stay tuned for that I guess

EDIT: correcting some transcriptions of chinese characters and the translations. sorry about that! google couldn't transcribe it correctly. for clarity's sake i will also include original screenshots. please tell me if anything is wrong!

EDIT 2: Check out part 2 to this as well for stuff I missed!

EDIT 3: An Abysswalker connection I found

EDIT 4: Debunking the myths of non-consent & Rafayel hurting MC in the spicy scene

So Rafayel’s whole deal in this memory, I believe, is dependency. Like, too much intensity, too much need, too much fear -- about scaring her off, about what he sees himself possibly becoming in the future, overall just being too reliant on mc and getting scared by it.

Let's begin with this massive fear of being a taker, not just in the “I’m stealing someone’s fries” way, but in this existential, soul-deep kind of way where he’s terrified of turning everything he loves into something he exploits out of demand for his art. And yeah, it’s sad when you first hear him say it, but it’s also really interesting when you look at how this all ties into his relationship with MC and his inspiration source drying up because of her.

Before Rafayel became an artist, he looked at the world in this super pure, wholesome way. Sceneries and nature were just there, things to admire and feel awe over without needing to do anything about it. Like, imagine standing at the edge of a desert, looking at a sea that’s drying up. Sure, it’s tragic, but it’s also kind of beautiful in a raw, heartbreaking way. That’s how Rafayel saw things, he could appreciate them without feeling like he had to do anything.

But then Rafayel started creating, and suddenly, sceneries weren’t just sceneries anymore. They became inspiration. He wasn’t just admiring beauty, he was extracting something from it, its meaning, its pain, its soul, to turn into art for other people. And that made him feel all kinds of icky, because now he wasn’t just looking at the drying sea. He was taking from it. Just as he's using his people's pain in his art as well, that's also a thing.

Now let’s talk about MC. Rafayel loves her like he used to love those sceneries,,, in this pure, untainted way. There's a parallel here. But here’s the kicker, he’s not the same guy who can just admire something and leave it untouched anymore.

And suddenly, this is no longer only about losing inspiration for him.

This happens after he and MC get together, and it’s like all the pain and anguish that used to fuel his creativity just.. ... dries up. He can’t find that spark anymore because now his life is surrounded by love instead of suffering. In fact, his inspiration starts coming from her and it's starting to clash with how he makes art. In the phone call, he seeks her out and says he needs her so bad and she only needs to talk to help him out. This is the first wink wink nod nod of the story.

So what does Rafayel do? He goes on this big, dramatic trip to "find inspiration" (or at least his muse), but it’s not just about his art. He’s not just looking for inspiration, he’s trying to figure out how to be less dependent on her and becoming increasingly more restless over this. The temparature and physical discomfort is making things worse, he's anxiously overthinking, and imagine trying to fight this and the longest art block as of late off when all you want to do is indulge in this special person and be comforted like a lap cat all day every day.

He understands that if he lets himself indulge without restraint, one day his love for mc will turn into pure need. He’ll become more and more greedy, and he doesn’t want that and is afraid of being abandoned because of that growing neediness and dependency.

This is in relation to his art, because as @/dat-silvers-girl put in the comments, he's struggling with "the genuine fear of not being able to enjoy anything in life because all you're thinking about how to use it (as an artist)" . what if he starts doing this to her? to their love and relationship? take from her, and become someone who only takes in every area of life -- like someone who only exploits things by extracting what he feels about them to use it for his art. he's afraid of that, he doesn't like that and possibly doesn't like himself who does it. so why should she? she would leave him for sure, in his head, that's a solid reason to.

The first time around he brings up his anxiety about MC leaving him out of the inner realization of his dependency, the possibility of just what he can become, and fear of abandonment. she effortlessly soothes his worries. It's heavily implied they did it afterwards and after hearing "her life has already been consumed by him" he tweaked out a little bit and his "obsession" seeped through.

After it fades to black, he says ほら……僕もとっくに……君に侵食されてしまっているんだ…… which means "See... I've already been completely consumed by you too" in Japanese instead of the life being made a chaotic mess localization. While I think MC's line was jokey and lighthearted, I don't think this man is joking at all. Rafayel didn't say his life was consumed by her as well, he said HE was consumed. Ouh.

This took the edge off from him for a while but they hadn't gotten to the root of the problem yet, so he was back to square one after the memorial hall, because remember, he's trying to find inspiration as an act of making this dependency of his better. Pain and suffering are all around him here, which his inspiration feeds off of. The dried up ocean he could hear weakening, the skeleton of the whale, the burden of his people and homeland more prominent than before. And what does MC do? Tear through the perspective of pain and introduce a hopeful alternative, "Isn't it a surprise to see an ocean in the middle of the desert?"

This is a place that gave Rafayel the height of helplessness and suffering when he visited by himself before despite momentarily being hopeful after the locals told him such a place existed. But now, she was there to comfort him through his loneliness and pain, hug him, and give him hope yet again. He brings up how he wanted to come here with the most important person to him when he was still hopeful about it before consumed by the pain of it all, and that wish has been granted. That moment has to be so powerful for Rafayel. Literally light at the end of the tunnel.

It had me reeling that he just sat in the car after all that, staring at her for god knows how long until she woke up. He was probably overthinking again, but my interpretation that it was heavily emotional for him (it could have meant so little for MC but the world for him, she doesn't even know) and he wanted to be in that moment with her, just feel and look without restraint. Indulge a little. (I can just imagine him going just a little bit more, I'll go after she wakes up.) And like. His eyes are shining in the darkness is the description here. Perhaps he was feeling so much here. So much love. So much happiness. And he's about to go in for a kiss (heavy breathing and everything) after that, but holds himself back and actively has to pry himself away. He's feeling the neediness again.

That’s why he makes an effort to actively wean himself off and says he'll be okay on his own. What he says to her after MC is like "spoiling him" being all "hey you're sick maybe don't go? or let's go together?" (which is NOT helping Rafayel at all) is even more meaningful in Japanese and I didn't know why they left out this context, but the rearranged line would be "Do you want me to become a sea creature beached on the sand after the sea recedes, unable to breathe on my own ever again?"

Yeah. YEAH. This is about dependency. (He's saying don't coddle me I'll literally become that wolf tearing his shirt meme 😭)

So of course his stubbornness and anxiety force him to do things without MC and distance himself, he can do it. He’s determined to prove to himself that he can endure it on his own.

I also feel like part of the reason he insisted on going to the salon alone is that he’s still worried mc might come to dislike the version of him who's someone he's so sure she will leave, who isn't perfect and he hides behind the persona he's put up just for her. If he truly becomes addicted to her and shows her everything/his true self, and she ends up leaving him, it would completely break him. He's trying to be like "im so normal about her haha" but he's so not normal about her at all. He's literally obsessed I feel like, and perhaps this is him fighting it knowing it's not healthy.

and OOOH about why he ends up coming back from the salon all hot and bothered.

I have strong context that she flicked the bean in there after he left her high and dry in the car ("hot water washes away the stickiness from my body and his stifled breaths still echo in my ears, enveloping me along with the steam in the bathroom. The warmth from his fingertips lingers in the places where he touched me..." is the english. however, in chinese, it goes "熱水洗去身上的黏膩，壓抑的喘息迴盪在我耳畔，和浴室裡氤氳的水氣一起包裹著我." stating "the suppressed breathing" -- which doesn't have any possessive adjectives when I translated it on google and later explicitly asked chatgpt if it had any his/my adjectives involved, just to be sure. it said no but i'd like it if a real chinese speaking person could give their input on this !!! PLEASE DONT LEAVE ME WITH CHATGPT

so um. if the context is in fact the case that he heard her masturbating to him, the intensity with which he attacked her would be normal, I think 😭

I have belief that MC unconsciously shatters his "training himself to be without her" determination through their bond. She just keeps thinking about him the entire time. about him reading her thoughts, though. we still don't know all about the lemurian bond they share. I’d say it grants him some sort of mind/heart reading ability or connects their minds together (when she was thinking about whether she should hug him, he answered “yes”).

At the salon, I imagine Rafayel was already thinking about her like crazy. Then he realized, or perhaps, "heard" she was still worrying about him and thinking of him (as much he thought about her) and decided to go back. Rafayel probably felt that suppressing himself was only making her more anxious and unsettled. She's thinking all about him, unconsciously calling to him to come to her, she didn't want to let him go at all, wanted to go with him, etc...

but even if it was his own decision and no mind reading was involved... uh. If you ask me. He did quite literally hear her after coming back. That's also something that might make him think she wants him as much as he wants her, which made his self-restraint utterly meaningless from the start.

Disregarding this theory of mine proven wrong until a Chinese speaker helps me out here, MC returned to Rafayel's room. A translation omission happened here from what I saw. There are no possessive adjectives in the Chinese text about the room she returns to, and the Japanese one states she returned to the guest room (doesn't specify which one. She was also able to enter Rafayel's room without needing to knock before.)

so uh. she went into rafayel's room y'all. the line "this is my room, you're the one who walked in here" MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE. (SO LIKE. NOT ONLY DID SHE GO INTO HIS ROOM, SHE FLICKED THE BEAN THERE AND HE POSSIBLY HEARD IT. SHE'S MORE OF A FREAK THAN HE IS, I UNDERSTAND WHY HE LET GO AFTER THAT LMFAO)

I don't put it past him to get worked up after he finds her in his room post-bath even without my theory lmfao (idk why they put her in a dress when she should be in a bathrobe or something 😭)

His conclusion at the end of this memory that "he finds inspiration in pain and the art of creation is a part of his life. mc made him realize love and art are so alike. even if they don't complete him but burn him instead he wants them (love and art) with every fiber of his being" and MC says she doesn't like that, rightfully so.

So like. There's SO MUCH to unpack in here.

When Rafayel says he finds inspiration in pain and that creation is a part of his life, he’s admitting something raw and essential about himself: pain isn’t just a byproduct of his art, it’s intrinsic to it. For Rafayel, pain and art are intertwined in a way that’s almost inseparable. It’s like his muse isn’t just beauty, but beauty that hurts.

But then he takes this further by connecting art to love. He’s realized that both art and love demand the same from him: vulnerability, passion, and sometimes suffering. They don’t necessarily complete him (he’s not romanticizing them as salvation), but they burn him, wear him down, consume him (coincidentally, this is something he said to MC in the JP dub of this memory, that she consumes him), but also give him life. And for Rafayel, that’s the crux, even if they burn him, he wants them with every fiber of his being.

This is such a Rafayel thing to say. It’s dramatic, it’s tortured, but it’s also deeply SUBTLE. He doesn't spell all of these out, mind you, I got a headache trying to understand him. Or I'm just slow, I don't know. It shows how much he values creation and connection, even if they come at a cost.

MC, on the other hand, challenges this perspective. When she says she doesn’t like that he views love and art as things that burn him, she’s pushing back against the idea that suffering is a necessary part of creation, or love. MC doesn’t want Rafayel to see their relationship as something that requires him to hurt. She’s telling him, “You don’t have to destroy yourself to love me.”

When MC says, “You’ll never have to burn for me,” she’s giving Rafayel an alternative to his destructive mindset. She’s saying that love doesn’t have to hurt, that their relationship can exist without him sacrificing himself on the altar of passion. It’s a refusal to let Rafayel romanticize pain as the price of love.

And I love that Rafayel goes, "Will you help me look for other parts in life outside of pain?" in response. This is NOT about art or inspiration anymore, and the way the dialogue is written is just AUGH. Again I had to rewatch this over and over again for the nuances and subtext.

I love MC's response, she knew exactly what to say. “I’ll always be the one who walks along the shore with you. Of course, diving into the sea bed is fine too. If it can snow in the desert, there will be a day when the ocean returns.”

MC’s response is layered with metaphors, but at its core, it’s about unwavering support and hope::

Walking along the shore: This represents safety and companionship. MC is saying she’ll be with Rafayel in the calm, in the moments where they’re just observing life without diving into its depths. She’ll be his steady presence, his grounding force.

Diving into the sea bed: This is an acknowledgment that life and love sometimes require going deeper and they may go through hardships, into the unknown, the murky, the challenging. MC isn’t afraid of this, she’s willing to go there with him too.

Snow in the desert and the ocean’s return: This is a symbol of hope and transformation beyond being a nod to The Sea of Golden Sand. Snow in the desert seems impossible, just like the idea of Rafayel finding inspiration outside of pain might feel impossible to him. But MC believes in the extraordinary, in change, and in the possibility that beauty and creation can exist outside of suffering.

Her words are a promise: she’s willing to stand by him, to face the unknown together, and to hold onto the belief that a new way of seeing the world is possible.

And Rafayel LOWKEY PROPOSES IN RETURN.

By saying “let’s watch the sea together,” he’s accepting MC’s offer of companionship and hope in the long run. He’s recognizing that life doesn’t have to be about diving into the depths alone, it can be about sharing the experience with someone else, even if it’s just standing on the shore and watching.

“Every sea”: This phrase is key. Rafayel isn’t just committing to one kind of life or one kind of inspiration, he’s opening himself up to all possibilities. Watching every sea means embracing all facets of life, whether they’re calm or turbulent, painful or beautiful. It’s a marriage proposal declaration that he’s ready to explore the world beyond pain, with MC by his side.

So. I love that his inspiration returns after his freak is accepted by MC because he literally feels the acceptance through the bond.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. This memory DRAINED me. They were just supposed to bang what the fuck happened. Why did I have to go treasure hunting to find what was going on in this card. anyway...