#but before that he's going to savor these four years

[nerdpoe]

Guardian Angels are actually Guardian Ghosts, and it's sort of mandatory military service.

Vlad managed to dodge his, by way of proving he had no morals and therefore no ability to guard. He doesn't know this yet, but it's a huge mark against him in terms of reputation.

At the moment, this doesn't really apply to or bother him.

When he fully dies, though, and reputation is all he has? It'll be very important.

But going through a Guardianship is important to ghosts for many reasons; it instills a sense of responsibility, gives them a connection to a world they left behind, and helps them increase their powers.

LunchLady? Successful Guardianship.

Walker? Ultra successful Guardianship.

Skulker? Technically successful Guardianship.

Now it's Danny's turn. The Observants held off on assigning him because a ghost needs to legally be an adult in Ghost terms, and Danny's half human.

So, when he graduates High School, a letter appears on his bed.

On top of that letter is a green sticky note that just reads;

"Yes, they're serious. Yes, you have to do this."

The letter outlines his duties and responsibilities to keep his charge alive, and the exception to the rule they're making with him due to his mortality.

He is being assigned this person for four years, instead of that person's lifetime. Long enough to make an impression, short enough to enable Danny to live his life.

Danny's new charge?

Bart fucking Allen.

[moonlinos]

It would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Single dad!Chan, friends to strangers to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), mentions of parental guilt, themes of loneliness, Chan is stuck in the past, lying, mentions of feeling lost in life, story spans over a number of years, nipple play, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

♡ Word count: 8.2k

♡ Synopsis: Being a single dad to Hyerin is all Chan has known for the past four years. He and his ex-girlfriend reached an agreement that saw her going off to live a life she had always dreamed of while he was left with a life of loneliness, which he endured with a smile on his face for his daughter. A small gleam of hope seems to appear in his life in the shape of you. But hiding himself under a haze of lies seems to be his only option if he ever wants to keep you.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting, this was so much fun to write 🩷 I will admit this is a lot more focused on Chan as a character than I originally wanted it to be, and I kinda went a bit crazy with the plot, but I hope you still like it! The song Chan sings to Hyerin is Little Star by Standing Egg 💗

Every day in Chan’s life is a monotonous, never-ending cycle. Like watching reruns of bad TV shows on gloomy Sunday nights, every second of his past and upcoming days is etched into his mind like a quilt of mundane tasks and repetitive moments.

But that wasn’t always the case.

Once, excitement filled his every waking moment. His weekends were a whirlwind of new places teeming with bustling crowds and unfamiliar faces who became fast friends. During his university years, he and his friends lived their lives with ardor, savoring every moment as if it could be their last. His days were filled with an array of unplanned parties and impromptu trips which brought a kaleidoscope of color to his life.

Until he met Dana.

He was about to graduate, and she swept into his life like a hurricane — flipping everything upside down before disappearing just as quickly, with only destruction and ashes remaining in her wake.

He was infatuated; she was bored. That was clear from the start, but Chan was too blinded by affection to be concerned with such a minute detail. So long as he got to have her by his side, he was happy. Their relationship lasted a year, yet it changed his life forever.

He was twenty-one when Dana announced her pregnancy. On his twenty-second birthday, she told him she didn’t want to be a mother.

By that point in his life, Chan had already forsaken everything he had for her. He turned his back on his old friends, the vibrant life he once led, and everything that once made him who he was. Without Dana, he would be left with nothing but the ugly reflection of his self-destructive choices made in the name of a loveless love.

And so, they came to an agreement. Dana would leave — that had been her plan from the start, anyway — but she would leave Chan with a small piece of their story.

Hyerin was born on November 20th, 2019.

Dana left on a plane to New York City on December 1st.

Now, the only speck of color in his life is Hyerin. In the four years Chan has been lucky enough to be her dad, he has found she is much more than simply a reminder of Dana or what could have been between them. Hyerin is his entire world. She is the love he’s unknowingly been searching for his whole life, and he would sacrifice every last bit of himself to make sure she only ever knows happiness.

They live a quiet life, with Chan working a less-than-fulfilling corporate job and spending all his free time with her. He sometimes allows himself to wonder what happened to his old friends — did they all eventually settle for the mundanity of adult life, or are they still chasing an endless thrill? But he never dwells on it too much. The sweet memories of his early twenties are now nothing more than a comforting escape when the weight of loneliness becomes too overwhelming.

Today is one of those days. A late Friday night after his shift, Chan sprawled on his couch with Jisung, a co-worker who became his first friend after many years, a silly smile on his face as he reminisced about a trip to Jeju in his sophomore year of college. This is how he lives most of his life; when he’s not in the present with Hyerin, he’s stuck in the past.

How could he not be stuck in the past? So many people he loved and memories he cherished were there.

“I don’t get how you just left all of that behind for someone,” Jisung scoffs, loosening his tie. “Why couldn’t she just join your group of friends?”

“It’s complicated,” Chan sighs, eyes wandering toward Hyerin’s bedroom door for the umpteenth time to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly. When he turns to look back at Jisung, his expression prompts him to elaborate. “What? You want the whole story?”

Jisung shrugs. “It’s not like we have any other plans for tonight.”

“Well, there was this girl in my friend group. We hooked up a lot, but our relationship went beyond that,” Chan explains, fingers tapping his thighs as the memories flood his mind. It was a sore topic, one he certainly didn’t enjoy remembering. “We never dated, but Dana was jealous, and I couldn’t blame her. Me and this girl were… very close. I couldn’t be in a relationship while also being that close to her, but I also couldn’t imagine us being only friends. So it was easier to walk away.”

Chan conveniently leaves out the fact that he walked away because an artificial love strangely provided solace for his heart, unlike the searing torment of unrequited love, which engulfed him like molten lava.

“And that was the last time you ever had that type of relationship with anyone?”

“With Dana? Yeah—”

“Hyung, you know what I mean. You told me yourself Dana didn’t love you,” Jisung points out. “I mean this other girl.”

Chan shrugs dismissively. “I guess, yeah. Doesn’t matter, though.”

And Jisung scoffs loudly at his words, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. Memories of that love flood Chan’s mind, and he's ready to let them sweep him away when Jisung abruptly turns so he sits facing him, resolve swimming in his eyes.

“Give me your phone,” his loud voice reverberates through the small apartment, prompting Chan to shush him with a stern look. “Give me your phone,” Jisung repeats himself with a harsh whisper.

Chan rolls his eyes but ultimately smiles at his friend. He retrieves his phone from the end table, handing it to a much too enthusiastic Jisung. “The password is Hyerin’s birthday,” he tells him, albeit a bit apprehensive.

He watches amusedly as Jisung types away at his own phone before doing the same on his, handing him the device with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What did you do, you little menace?” Chan questions the younger boy, narrowing his eyes. Jisung simply shrugs.

“I got you a date tomorrow. Thank me later.”

Chan immediately sits up on the couch, eyes darting toward his phone screen. A chat with a single message from him to an unknown contact makes him question his entire friendship with Jisung.

Me: I’m your date for tomorrow 😉 Me: O’neul restaurant, 6 pm. See you there, cutie

“Jisung, what the fuck?”

“What?” His friend asks between giggles. “Sora has this friend she said desperately needs a date, and I have you in the same situation,” he explains, clearly proud of himself. “I just did you both a favor while also getting boyfriend points.”

Chan’s eyes shift toward his phone once more, inwardly cringing at the messages with a heavy sigh.

“And was making me sound this creepy necessary?”

Jisung waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, that was just a little treat for me.”

“And why the fuck is her name Mystery Girl?” Chan queries, the irritation making him unknowingly raise his voice.

“It’s a blind date,” his friend explains. “This girl’s apparently super picky, kept turning down every guy Sora suggested. So, she came up with this solution. Can’t turn you down if she doesn’t know what you look like.”

Chan groans, ultimately sinking back onto the couch with a defeated sigh. Jisung was trying to be a good friend, he knew that, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the prospect of a date. Not only did he not want one, but he also had no time for such a futile thing. He had Hyerin, and she was the sole reason for his existence. He didn’t need anyone meddling in their little world. But he didn’t have the courage to tell Jisung that.

It would be a lie to say the past four years weren’t lonesome. Falling asleep alone in a cold, empty bed was a sorrow he had simply grown numb to. Yet, he still yearned to have someone to share the grapples of routine life with, someone whose presence alone would effortlessly diminish his worries, someone he could make love to before falling asleep and waking up intertwined.

But he couldn’t afford to have that.

At least this date was bound to fail; the woman’s demanding nature, coupled with Chan’s unwillingness to even be there in the first place sure to make their wasted time brief.

Just as he’s about to grumble about the messages again, Hyerin comes stumbling out of her room, her small feet shuffling against the floor as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

“Oh, honey, were we being too loud?” Chan asks sweetly, and his eyes discreetly shoot daggers at Jisung, who mouths an apology.

Hyerin firmly shakes her head, the crooked pigtails Chan clumsily had tied this morning coming undone as she does so. He smiles at her, propping his elbows on his knees and waiting for her to speak her little mind.

“I had a dream,” she mumbles. “With a dragon.”

Chan gasps, hands wrapping around her tiny frame and picking her up before walking toward her room. It took him some time, but he ultimately learned that it’s best to ease her back into bed while she’s distracted, lest she throws a tantrum.

“And was it a nice dragon?” He asks. Hyerin giggles, and Chan is positive that the sound has the power to light up even his most somber days.

“Of course it was a nice dragon, daddy,” she tells him. “You said I only have nice dreams ‘cause my mind is pretty, remember?”

Chan nods as he gently tucks her back into bed, triple-checking that she is comfortable and warm. “Of course, of course. How could I forget?” He slaps a hand on his forehead with a sigh. “Hyerinnie has the prettiest mind. It can only make up pretty things.”

Hyerin smiles at him, tugging her blanket close to her chin, her doe eyes already heavy with sleep and blinking languidly. Chan asks her the same question he does every night, although the answer remains unchanging every time: would she like him to sing to her? She drowsily tells him she wants to hear him sing her favorite song, Little Star.

Chan promptly gets under the covers beside her — Hyerin pouting and whining about how he’s stealing her blanket for himself, to which he can’t help the hearty laugh that escapes his lips. Since turning four, she’s developed quite a strong personality that Chan soon finds he adores, much like everything about her.

He turns on his side to watch her features as he sings; her nose and mouth so similar to his, and the way she furrows her brows while falling asleep mirrors his own habits. Chan might not be a happy man in his job or his personal life, but the boundless happiness his little gift provides him surpasses anything else he could wish for. Every now and then, he finds himself wanting more, but it’s not long before he realizes he already has everything he needs.

Chan goes over his rather extensive list of how to care for Hyerin with Jisung for the tenth time that evening, making sure the younger man knows what to do in any situation that could arise in the couple hours he’ll be gone. Hyerin is the one to usher him out of the apartment, assuring him she’ll be fine with her uncle Han, and Chan has to stop himself from wallowing over the fact that his once tiny baby is rapidly blossoming into a young kid.

He made no real effort to dress for his date; a simple button-up shirt and jeans served him just fine, seeing as he plans to return home as soon as possible. His date and he haven’t talked much at all since his initial texts yesterday, texting each other only to confirm the time and place of their basically forced date.

He arrives fifteen minutes late, all but running from the bus stop to the restaurant while cursing Jisung under his breath. This was definitely not worth the hassle, and Chan wanted nothing more than to be back at home with his daughter. He’d pick watching Tangled with her for the hundredth time over an unwanted date in a heartbeat.

Chan finally walks into the restaurant, informing the waiter that he’s there to meet Cherry. His face visibly grimaces as he mutters the words. Fuck this blind date bullshit.

He’s led to his table, dragging his feet behind the waiter. His attention is immediately drawn to the pencil holding his date’s messy ponytail together. He chuckles quietly, circling around the table and forcing out a smile to introduce himself.

But then he’s met with a sight he had long given up hope of ever seeing again: you.

You, who were next to him as he made stupid decisions during college. Like when he drunkenly thought it wise to bet his laptop in a game of beer pong.

You, who always made him your special hangover soup after a party. He especially loved it when you let him keep the leftovers, knowing that he and his roommate were hopeless in the kitchen.

You, who filled the space in his cold sheets with warmth and always made his bed feel like a sanctuary.

You, who let him make love to you despite you both swearing to be only friends.

You, who later had to watch him walk away from you like a coward, driven by sheer fear.

You, staring back at him with a stunned look on your face.

“Chan?” You ask, an unsure lilt to your words.

And Chan embarrassingly fumbles over his words, his tongue tying itself into knots in front of you. He notices you pursing your lips to stop from giggling and clears his throat a bit too loudly, a few patrons turning their heads to look at him. But he can’t bring himself to care, not when it seems the universe has turned the wheels of his fate in his favor for once.

“Uh, hi,” is all his brain can muster among the jumble of thoughts inside his head. He mentally berates himself for acting so damn awkward when you’re clearly not as affected by this encounter as he is.

“Damn, it’s been so long,” you marvel, eyes not leaving his face for a second. “I thought you moved to a different country or something. It’s so strange how we never ran into each other.”

Chan forces out a chuckle, hands now fiddling with the menu on the table. Of course you two never ran into each other; he only ever leaves the house for work or when he has to accompany Hyerin, and he doubts you frequent playgrounds or zoos.

“Yeah, I… don’t go out much anymore,” he simply says.

You hum, and he properly takes in your appearance. You haven’t changed one bit; from your hair to your choice of clothes, you’re still the same girl who ruled over his every thought during college.

You two order your food and fall into an infuriating cycle of small talk. Chan doesn’t want to talk about the weather or if you have seen the latest movie yet — he’s desperate to ask you how you’ve been, if you ever pursued your dreams, if you can still outdrink anyone in your friend group, and—

And if you’re still single because you find relationships a hassle.

But as the food arrives, you fall into an even more frustrating cycle: silence. Chan feels restless, squirming in his seat every few minutes while you calmly eat and watch the people around you. He remembers your habit of scanning crowded rooms and making up stories for strangers with your vivid imagination. He wants to ask if you still do that, but it seems he’s only grown into more of a coward since your last encounter.

You’re the first to break the silence, waiting for the waiter to leave with your plates to ask what Chan has been doing since graduating. It’s a casual question with no weight to your words, as lighthearted as you have always been. And the complete opposite of his every possible answer.

How can he tell you he’s given up music altogether, now surrounded by gray walls and lifeless faces in his corporate job? How can he tell you he’s alone most of the time, partly by choice and partly because he doesn’t know how to dig himself out of this comfortable hole he’s trapped himself in?

How can he possibly explain that he agreed to be a single father, sacrificing his own happiness for the selfish whims of a woman who never even loved him?

You’re still the same; the same carefree eyes and attitude, same easygoing approach to everything life throws your way — such as meeting him again after years.

All of him has changed.

Chan can’t tarnish your colorful life, can’t sit before you and spill out his problems or grumble about the overwhelming loneliness in his life when he knows damn well that was a consequence of his own choices.

He wants nothing more than to be the same Chan he was in college. Creating life stories for strangers in dive bars with you, not caring about whether he’ll have enough money to pay the water bill next month, not having to bear the burden of something as precious as a human life depending solely on him.

It’s selfish, but he wants nothing more than to go back.

So he does.

“I actually still write songs, though it’s only a freelance thing,” he lies. He hasn’t written a single note in years. “Other than that, I’ve just been taking it day by day. Same as I’ve always done, I guess.”

And your eyes immediately light up — you’ve always loved his songs, after all. Your conversation flows much like it used to in the past after that, with you making witty jokes and Chan laughing loudly at them. You tell him you started working as an art teacher for the elderly when living off of commissions became impossible, and that you adore the stories they share about their younger years. They remind you of your own stories together, you admit with a genuine smile.

Your conversation is endless, continuing even as Chan walks you to your car in the empty parking lot. The night has grown colder, and the crescent moon gleaming in the sky above him almost feels like a sign that things will change for the better.

As you two stand in front of your car, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Ever the free soul, you ask him outright if he would like to come back to your place. There are no further implications hidden in your request beyond a hookup. Nothing’s ever heavy with you, every little thing always feeling light as a feather.

He says he would love to, but quickly excuses himself under the guise of calling his roommate about the spare key. Chan hurriedly calls Jisung as soon as he turns a corner in the parking lot, ensuring you won’t be able to hear him. It’s juvenile, the way he’s actually taking pleasure in almost creating a different version of himself — a version much closer to who he was when you were his, at least in some sense of the word. He’s a father, he should be responsible and dependable, but the weight of that role had been thrust upon him far too abruptly. He can’t be faulted for wanting to go back in time.

“Okay, I have no time to explain,” he blurts out as soon as Jisung picks up the phone. “Would it be too much to ask you to stay the night?”

Jisung chuckles at the other end of the line. “Damn, was the date that good?”

Chan ignores his sly comment, because yes, the date was everything he never thought it could be.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” he assures him. “I’ll even pay you if you want. How much—”

“Hey, no need for that,” Jisung cuts him off. “You know I love looking after Hyerin.”

And the pang of guilt inside his chest at the mention of his daughter’s name almost knocks the air out of his lungs. He feels ashamed, as if he’s neglecting his daughter for a hookup, going after a fantasy that has long crumbled and faded away.

“How is she? Is she okay?” He asks, guilt washing over him like a wave. He hadn’t thought of his daughter for a second that entire night. “Did she cry at all? Did she notice I was gone for longer than I promised?”

Jisung calls out his name with a chuckle, prompting him to stop his rambling. “Relax. We painted each other’s nails, she did my makeup, had her dinner, and is now sleeping soundly after listening to another one of uncle Han’s phenomenal stories about frogs,” He details, causing a hearty laugh to fall from Chan’s lips at the image of Jisung’s face painted with Hyerin’s cheap children’s makeup. His friend then adds, “Go get laid, man.”

And so Chan hangs up the phone, all but running toward your figure waiting by your car. You smile at him, taking his hand and pulling him into a tight embrace. It’s the first time he holds you in almost five years, and he feels his dull world away from Hyerin slowly fill up with vibrant hues.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to reach your apartment building, and Chan is thanking any higher power that might listen for that. The sheer anticipation of what is implied to happen once you two are alone together has him picking at his cuticles until it stings.

He’s nervous, to put it lightly. A couple of terrible drunken hookups in dingy motels after office gatherings were his only sexual encounters after Hyerin was born.

But once you’re standing in front of him in your living room, your eyes never leaving his even as you’re slipping off your heels, Chan knows you’re both equals in this playing field. 

He’s the one to pull you into a kiss, lips barely grazing against yours. But the feeling of finally kissing you again after so many years was like wildfire, consuming him wholly until the kiss turns feverish. His hand travels from your shoulders to your lower back, pulling you flush against his body. You hum against his lips, fingers clumsily undoing his buckle, and the prospect that you might be as eager as he is has him gripping the fabric of your dress.

Chan swears his vision goes black the moment your fingertips brush against his hardening erection, the feathery touch enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

A hand is pressed to his chest before he has the chance to think, and you’re pushing him backward until his back meets the wall. You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, leaning forward and nuzzling your face against his clothed cock.

“I missed you,” you whisper, hungry eyes looking up at him. “Don’t think I got to say that.”

Chan takes in the sight of you, memorizing and storing it in his mind alongside the countless images he already had of you on his knees for him. His fingers thread in your hair, your lips falling open with a sigh.

“I missed you too,” he professes. You have no idea how much.

With a smile, you quickly work his zipper open, pulling his jeans down his legs and pressing a wet kiss to his clothed erection. Chan feels your tongue lap at his member through his boxers, lips sucking around the head as your nails scrape the flesh of his thighs lightly.

It feels like you mouth at his length for hours, the light gray fabric of his boxers stained with your saliva and his precum, leaving Chan panting and tugging at your hair. You trail soft, wet kisses down his thigh while pushing his boxers out of your way, his cock already swollen and flushed. He’d be embarrassed for the way his body reacted so responsively to you if you weren’t also visibly as affected.

Your tongue circles his length languidly, lapping at a small bead of precum with a hum. Finally wrapping your lips around his tip, your tongue flicks teasingly beneath the head of his cock, Chan sucking in a deep breath and using his grip on your hair as leverage to pull you toward him. You almost obediently drop your jaw to slide his now fully hardened length into your mouth, your hand wrapping around the base as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Chan hisses your name when you relax your throat after a few passes, taking him fully into your pretty mouth, your nose brushing his pelvis.

“Fuck, you always looked so pretty like that,” Chan chokes out. “Pretty lips taking me so well.”

You groan at his words and the vibrations traveling along his shaft have Chan growling with a harsh tug of your hair, causing you to sputter as his cock hit the back of your throat. You seek purchase in his hips as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You’re unrelenting nonetheless, circling your tongue around him before pulling away, hands now sliding up his thigh before gently gliding over his balls. As you slowly lick from the base of his shaft all the way up to the sensitive tip, Chan’s gaze shifts down as he catches a glimpse of your thighs rubbing together. He feels himself twitch, and immediately pulls you away from him.

“Don’t wanna come like this, I need to fuck you,” he rasps out.

You stand back up, legs wobbly, and fumble with the buttons of his shirt while he slides your dress down your shoulders. Your movements are messy and filled with urgency, your breaths quickening as you both want nothing more than to strip away any form of barrier between you. Piling up five years of yearning will do that.

As your impatience reaches its peak, you tear open the last remaining buttons of his shirt, your nails grazing his skin as you slide the fabric down his shoulders. A wave of goosebumps travels across Chan’s body, and his hands abandon the task of removing your dress in favor of tracing the curve of your ass before picking you up off the floor.

“First door on the right,” you tell him, your words answering his unspoken thoughts as if you could read his mind. Chan nods, your proximity making it impossible for him not to press his lips to yours, tongue sliding over your bottom lip before licking into your mouth with a low hum.

He collides with a wall, missing the entrance to your bedroom by a hair’s breadth, and you giggle against his lips. Chan smiles back. Nothing’s ever heavy with you.

He lowers you onto the bed gently, his body instinctively slotting between your spread legs the way he did so many times before. You soon also wrap your thighs around his waist as you always did, pulling him closer until his cock is pressed up against your clothed pussy.

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him, grinding your hips forward and eliciting a quiet moan from Chan’s lips as he hastily nods. With a tight grip on your waist, he flips you both effortlessly.

Promptly sitting up on his thighs, you finally rid yourself of the inconvenient fabric of your dress, followed by your bra, your nipples instantly hardening. Chan sits up, eyes transfixed on your chest as his calloused thumbs trace the nubs before his lips circle around one, sucking harshly. As you gently roll your hips, he can feel the way your soaked panties cling to his skin as your core presses up against his thigh.

Your fingers tangle in his hair with a whimper, pushing his face into your breasts as he bites the sensitive skin. His lips leave your nipples with a wet sound, then trailing kisses up the column of your neck until his gaze is locked on yours again. He was dying to mark you, bite and suck on your skin until it blossomed into a beautiful maroon — but he knew better. You weren’t twenty anymore, and you weren’t his; in no sense of the word.

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, eyes heavy with lust.

And he knows this is a terrible idea. This was exactly how he came to be a father.

But it’s not his mind that’s doing the thinking, and so he nods, his grip on your hips tightening as you pull your soaked panties to the side just enough to slide the swollen tip of his cock against your slick folds. Chan sucks in a breath, fighting a war against his own body not to come from this feeling alone. It wasn’t just how long it had been since he was with someone, it was you. It was all you. The effect you had always had on him having never faded, simply laying dormant until his body had you again.

Chan rests his forehead on yours as you slowly sink down on his length. His lips find your neck again, gently sucking the skin into his mouth as you slowly grind down on him, a whine falling from your lips and going straight to his cock. His hips buck up unwittingly, causing you to moan loudly in his ears. But your slow pace remains, and Chan knows he should savor this moment, but he wants nothing more than to fuck you into the mattress until he forgets every minor issue aggravating his brain.

Such as the fact that he knows you will leave his life again the second you find out he lied to you.

So his hands find your waist and he flips you down onto the mattress once more. His eyes bore into you as you suck in a breath.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hips grinding into his cock again. “I want it, please—”

Chan doesn’t waste another second, retreating only to plunge back harshly into your cunt. He moves with deep strokes, hips falling into an erratic rhythm, your nails digging into his back as your thighs clenched around his waist. All he can hear is static and your choked moans as he presses you into the mattress.

“Missed this so fucking much,” he groans against your ear. And finally succumbing to his desires, he bends down to suck and nibble on the delicate skin of your neck, mind too focused on how your walls squeeze around him to worry about marking you. He laps at the small bruises he leaves behind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you mewl.

You roll your hips, matching his rhythm, and Chan feels a familiar heat rise within him. He reaches down to glide small circles around your clit, your body jolting and squirming. He absentmindedly smiles against your skin.

After an entire night of pretending his life was the same as it was five years ago, fucking you required no acting.

“It’s too much, fuck,” you whimper, tugging him by the hair until your lips are crashing together in a sloppy kiss. Your walls tighten around him, body clenching as the tension finally snaps, your orgasm coursing through your shaking body as Chan growls into your parted lips.

He keeps fucking into you, until his hips meet yours one last time, and a low groan reverberates through the room. His cock twitches inside of you as his body stills, filling you with his warm release which leaked out of you and onto your sheets as he pulled out with a sigh.

Chan throws himself onto the mattress, labored breaths leaving his heavy lungs. He pulls you into his arms, and you melt into his embrace as if it were a habit. It’s as though he’s gone back in time, even if temporarily.

He feels like he’s simply a guy making love with the girl he adores in the familiar comfort of his dorm room again.

When the first rays of sunlight seeped into your room, Chan was already awake. He watched as you slept, eyelids fluttering and a small smile adorning your lips.

It was as if you were his, in every sense of the word.

Guilt.

That’s what Chan feels every time he sees Hyerin’s laughing face on his phone’s wallpaper when he’s out, entertaining the silly lie he crafted.

It’s been two months since you reconnected and you effortlessly slipped him back into your life. The reunion with his old friends was expected — but Chan dreaded it, regardless. He found that out of the nine people that once comprised their group, only five remained. He wasn’t the only one who had gone his own way.

But he was the only one who had done it in the worst way possible, carelessly ghosting every single one of them, hoping his existence gradually faded from their memories.

That made facing his once best friend frightening. Minho was the first friend he made on the very first day of university, when Chan walked into his dorm room only to find he had snuck his cat into the building.

They were roommates for two years, and best friends for four. Chan complained loudly when he was assigned a new roommate. Minho was silent as he watched his best friend turn his back on him with no explanation.

Minho initially ignored him entirely, and Chan doesn’t fault him. When his vibrant face turned cold upon seeing him walk into a bar, Chan knew he earned that the moment he decided to ignore his friend’s every text message and phone call. When Minho made backhanded remarks about how nice it felt to have him back in their group, he knew he deserved it for not answering the door the only time his friend came looking for him.

It takes a drunken argument leading to a fist colliding with Chan’s cheek for Minho to finally address him. It takes them being escorted out of the bar by security for them to finally have a conversation, tears and resentment flowing freely as they sat at a bus stop late at night. After that, their friendship returned to what it was before, as if they had never been apart even for a second.

Despite the years and the changes, Minho was still his best friend — which was why he was the only person he came clean to.

Hyerin loved Minho, especially his cats. Her new favorite pastime quickly became going over to his house to play with her new ‘friends’, as she called them. And Chan was overwhelmed with happiness to witness his best friend falling under his daughter’s spell — his house now containing its very own box filled with every toy Hyerin mentioned even once, his kitchen stocked with all her favorite foods, and his cats falling asleep beside her anytime they came over to visit.

It was as if he was watching his two worlds collide. His past and present, which he had separated out of a senseless fear, intertwined so effortlessly it made him feel stupid for ever thinking he needed to build this barrier. For assuming the people he loved so much would reject him.

Made him feel even worse for walking away in a futile attempt to protect his feelings, because it only resulted in more hurt.

After so much of his time spent wondering, Chan finally has the answer to his questions. Some of his friends did settle for an ordinary adult life, some already married and some focusing their energy solely on climbing the corporate ladder. Still, some remained relatively unchanged — much like you did.

His social life blossomed again after reconnecting with his old friends. However, he still refused to hire a nanny, too fearful to leave Hyerin to a stranger’s care, resulting in constantly having to come up with excuses when his parents aren’t able to babysit. He won’t deny that he often fabricated these lies purely because staying in with his daughter and watching Tangled now outweighs any appeal of noisy nightclubs.

Jisung remained his salvation whenever he wanted to spend the night at your place, with Chan slowly but surely running out of reasons as to why you can’t go to his apartment for a change. He hasn’t had the heart or the courage to tell you the entire truth yet, only owning up to his lie about his job after you understandably asked him to listen to his new music and he was put on the spot.

Ever since you walked back into his life, he finds himself weaving a web of little white lies that slowly chip away at his heart.

He’s at a small gathering for his friend’s birthday, listening to Minho all but eulogize his fiancee. They have been a couple since university, Chan playing the wingman and encouraging his friend to finally do something about his crush (mostly because he couldn’t handle any more of Minho’s whining before going to sleep). Despite what everyone around them surmised, they beat all the odds and statistics and stayed together even after university. Chan would be happier about that if he hadn’t bet money on them breaking up before graduation. He wonders if Hongjoong will ask for his twenty bucks now that they’re friends again. 

“No, really, settling down with someone is so good,” Minho says after another shot of Soju, a silly smile etched onto his lips. “I thought I would hate it, y’know? Thought slapping such a significant title on our relationship would wear it down, but it’s the complete opposite. Ever since she proposed, it’s like we’re two love-struck nineteen-year-olds again.”

Chan smiles, saying they should drink to that purely because he hopes the sensation of alcohol burning his throat will numb his overwhelming jealousy. After congratulating Minho for the umpteenth time, he finds himself listening to yet another story about his relationship.

And he’s happy for Minho, just as much as he’s happy for Wonwoo for getting married last year. He couldn’t express the overwhelming joy he felt upon discovering these people, who once meant so much to him, had successfully navigated their way through life. But envy rears its ugly head every time he listens to one of their stories, because Chan’s direction in life seems to be a winding road. He’s a father, and his love for Hyerin is immeasurable, but he’s still actively lying about this side of him simply because he feels as if maybe he made the right choices in life at the worst possible time.

As he’s walking out of Hongjoong’s apartment with you later that night, he wraps an arm around your waist, a smile spreading across his face when you nestle closer to him. You two discuss Wonwoo’s marriage, with you talking about how beautiful the ceremony was, but ultimately scowling at the mere thought of getting married. Chan feels the corner of his heart crack at your words, but he laughs it off.

“Do you think he wants kids?” he wonders aloud.

He expects you to laugh at his sudden curiosity. He doesn’t expect you to dig at the fissure in his heart with your words, causing it to shatter completely.

“Gosh, it’d be so weird to see.” You cringe, snuggling deeper into his arms as a chilly breeze brushes against you two. “I like kids, but I’d never have them myself. Feel like it’d kinda ruin my life.”

Chan feels his grip on your waist loosen.

“Having kids doesn’t ruin your life,” he reasons. “You’re given the chance to care for something so precious, so important to this world…” he trails off, shaking his head and taking a step away from you. It feels as if exasperation has filled his entire being. “You look into their eyes and see yourself, and it’s— the love you feel when you first see them is so pure and earth-shattering that you can’t think of anything but how to make that tiny being only experience the good in the world. It doesn’t ruin your life.”

You eye him with confusion, cocking your head to the side and huffing out a laugh. “You talk like you know what that’s like. If you ever have kids one day, then you’ll know—”

“But I do know,” he’s yelling before he can stop himself, his footsteps coming to a halt. “I know because I have that. I have that and it’s the most precious thing in my life and yet I’ve been taking it for granted. And for what?”

He scoffs bitterly, his gaze fixing on your features; your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged lipstick, the way your puzzled eyes gleam under the moonlight. He shakes his head. 

“For childish illusions. The illusion that I could go back in time if I pretended hard enough, the illusion that this romanticized idea I have of my early twenties was superior to the life I have now,” Chan lets out a heavy breath, averting his gaze to the pavement. “The illusion that I could ever have you.”

“So it’s my fault you chose to lie about being a dad?” You blurt out.

He doesn’t lift his head. He can’t, the burden of guilt and shame weighing too heavily on his shoulders for him to face you.

“It’s my fault. You were simply the catalyst.”

“What do you even mean?”

“I mean I’ve always felt this way,” he exasperates, finally lifting his head but keeping his gaze anywhere but on you. He’s a coward. “I’ve always felt like maybe I was too young to be a dad, too immature to fully understand the consequences of the choices I made. I don’t regret my daughter, but I certainly regret the timing, and this haunts me every day. Meeting you again just made these feelings worse because you represent everything about my past that I no longer have.”

You remain quiet for a beat, but it feels like an eternity as Chan is forced to endure the deafening ring of your silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is unsteady. “You know, that’s why I always figured it was for the best that you left.”

“What?” Chan turns his gaze toward your face at last, your words stomping on his scattered heart one last time. He expects anger, but sorrow has taken over your expression, one so heavy he doesn’t recall a single moment in the years he’s known you where he’s seen you like this.

“You were always like this, Chan. You might think you were a different person back then, but you said it yourself,” you shrug with a sullen chuckle. “It’s only an illusion.”

He hums, nodding his head as it dawns on him. “You were never gonna be mine, were you? No matter what I did. I lied to you because I thought you would never want someone like who I am today. But I guess that was all in vain, ‘cause I’ve always been like this.”

“You always talked about getting married, settling down, having kids.” As you run a hand through your hair, an exasperated sigh falls from your lips. “You went along with our bullshit, but even back then, you were always like the dad of our group. This has always been you, Chan, but that’s not a bad thing. Don’t think you need to change or lie about who you are ‘cause you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, but…”

He scoffs. “But?”

“But we’re too different. We’ve always been. We’re great together in every way but the way you want us to be — the way I would love for us to be as well,” you simply say, offering him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And would it kill you if we tried? ‘Cause this unfulfilled hope has been killing me since I first fell in love with you.”

“What’s her name?” You simply ask, avoiding his question altogether. Chan furrows his brows. “Your daughter, what’s her name?”

He shifts on his feet. “Hyerin.”

“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you as a dad.”

Chan shakes his head. “I’m far from the perfect father.”

“Good,” you state matter-of-factly. “Perfect wouldn’t be you.”

You fall into a much lighter silence, although it’s still far from comfortable. A swarm of questions fills Chan’s mind, but his words fade into silence and die on his lips.

He knows everything is over when you suck in a sharp breath, muttering, “I can’t be what you need. When love becomes too serious, I feel trapped and run away. You know what that’s like,” you trail off. “I know we loved each other back then, and I know I still love you now, but I think it’s my turn to walk away. I’m sorry, Chan.”

And just like that, he’s left to watch your figure slowly grow smaller and smaller as you fade into the dimly lit street. You don’t reprimand him for lying or question if he also loves you still. You don’t explain why you can’t make an effort, probably because you’re unsure of the answer yourself. It turns out you both remained unchanged.

And after all this time, it’s only then that Chan realizes you were always just as lost as he was.

Chan didn’t allow himself to think much about you since he watched you walk away that night. He missed you often, as he had done for so long before your last encounter, but he had long grown numb to that feeling.

In the two years he was apart from you for the second time, he learned that life isn’t black or white. He could be a father while also being his own person; a son, a friend, a boyfriend. He learned that prioritizing Hyerin didn’t mean neglecting himself, as that would negatively impact her as well. She couldn’t only know happiness if her father was always dripping with sadness.

He learned he doesn’t have to choose between who he is now and who he was at twenty years old; they were both him, with certain moments bringing out glimpses of one or the other.

Hyerin started elementary school and is blossoming into a caring little girl, no longer needing Chan to tie her pigtails in the morning or remind her to brush her teeth before bed. Although she still demands that they maintain their nightly routine of lying together until she falls asleep to the sound of his voice singing her favorite song.

During his first parent-teacher conference — after walking into the classroom fifteen minutes late — he’s stunned to see you sitting across from him yet again, a pencil holding up your ponytail the same way it did that night at the restaurant. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips.

You were Hyerin’s teacher. He recalled picking her up after her first day of school and listening to her gush over the art teacher who was so pretty and nice, and talking about how she wanted to be like her when she grows up.

It felt as if you were destined to find each other every time one of you chose to walk away.

Your friendship picked up again slowly this time — no rushing into bed together and no rushing into long overdue serious conversations. They had already been avoided for years, anyway, they could wait a bit longer. This is exactly what you needed; patience. Chan had never had the patience to wait for you, while you never had the patience to understand your own feelings.

It’s been ten months now, and he’s yet again sitting before you. The teachers and parents converse around you both as you sit in silence. When you think no one is watching, you exchange glances, struggling to suppress the silly smiles that insist on spreading across your faces.

As people leave the room one by one after the meeting, Chan approaches you.

“You’re Bang Hyerin’s father, correct?” You speak with a grin.

“Correct.”

“She’s an amazing kid,” you tell him.

He smiles, shifting his gaze toward his feet before his eyes find yours again as you speak.

“We could grab a coffee this weekend.”

This time, there are further implications hidden in your request. You’re not asking as a friend, like you’ve been doing these past months. Some things are heavy with you now, and this is something he’s only recently come to find. He’s also come to find that he loves that change.

So he answers, “Sure. Tomorrow at three?”

“Then I’m your date for tomorrow,” you say with a giggle. “See you there, cutie.”

And Chan lets out a hearty laugh at that, which earns him a scolding look from the other teachers in the room.

He isn’t sure what will come of this. Maybe you two are better off as friends and all it will take is a couple of months to figure that out. Maybe time has changed you both more than he can understand, and you will finally be able to try something real after all these years of unfulfilled hopes and childish illusions.

Either way, Chan knows he won’t let go of you this time.

He wants you to be his, in any sense of the word.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie @vlctorriaa @yongbokkiesworld

[pucksandpower]

Just a Taste

Max Verstappen x best friend!Reader

Summary: you quickly learn that there’s more to the chocolates you devoured than meets the eye

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent (thanks to aphrodisiac chocolates)

You knock on Max’s front door, balancing a tray with four large lattes in your arms. “Max!” You call out, “It’s me!”

No response. You frown, knowing he’s usually back from his morning run by now. Shifting the drinks to one arm, you pull out your key and let yourself in.

“Max?” You call out again as you kick the door closed behind you. Still no answer.

You make your way to the kitchen and put the coffees down on the counter. Every Sunday morning you and Max have brunch together, a tradition you’ve kept up for years, ever since you became friends as kids.

As you take a sip of frothy caffeine, your stomach rumbles loudly. You glance at the clock — you’re a bit early today, so Max probably hasn’t returned yet.

Looking around, you spot a pink box on the counter that you don’t recognize. Curious, you open it up to find a dozen chocolates inside. A small note card reads:

For when you finally meet someone special - Lando

You chuckle to yourself, trust Lando to tease Max about being perpetually single. Popping one of the chocolates in your mouth, you savor the rich sweetness that melts on your tongue. Before you know it, you’ve eaten three more. They’re just so good! Max won’t mind if you have a few, right?

You’re nibbling on a fifth chocolate when warmth blooms through your body. You feel … tingly all over. And is it just you or did the room get brighter? You blink a few times then shake your head, trying to clear the sudden haze that’s settled over your mind.

Just then, the front door opens and Max calls out, “Y/N? You here already?”

“In the kitchen!” You reply, your voice coming out breathier than normal. You feel hot and flushed now, your skin ultra sensitive. What was in those chocolates?

Max enters the kitchen and stops short when he sees you leaning against the counter, breathing heavily. “Whoa, are you okay?” His brow furrows in concern as he takes in your disheveled appearance.

You stare at him, suddenly unable to form a coherent thought beyond how good he looks right now, sweaty from his run in just a compression top and shorts. You’ve always thought Max was cute of course, but now an almost uncontrollable urge to touch him overtakes you.

“Y/N?” Max prompts again, stepping closer and seeing the open box of chocolates beside you. “Did you … oh no. You ate from the pink box, didn’t you?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Max runs a hand through his hair. “Those were from Lando, they’re infused with … let’s just say they have special effects. I told him it was a stupid gift idea.”

He moves towards you but you back away quickly. “D-don’t,” you stammer out, worried what might happen if he gets too close right now.

Understanding dawns on Max’s face. “It’s alright, just try to stay calm. Come on, let’s go sit down.”

He gently grasps your arm and leads you to the living room couch. You sink down onto the soft cushions, resting your head against the back and closing your eyes. Your skin is on fire, you shift restlessly as desire coils hotly inside you.

Max sits down on the other end of the sofa. “This will pass, just ride it out,” he says soothingly.

You crack open your eyes to look at him. His face is etched with concern and something else you can’t quite place. “Max,” you breathe out his name like a plea.

He swallows hard. You’ve never wanted someone as much as you want Max in this moment. Scooting closer to him, you reach out a hand to touch his cheek.

Max inhales sharply at your contact but doesn’t pull away. His eyes search yours questioningly.

“Please Max, I need you,” the words fall desperately from your lips before you can stop them.

Max’s eyes widen in surprise before darkening with unmistakable desire. He’s silent for a long moment, emotions playing across his face as he struggles with indecision. You hold your breath, heart hammering in your chest.

Finally Max moves, shifting forward to close the small gap between you. His hand comes up to cradle your cheek tenderly as his eyes lock with yours.

“Are you sure?” He asks softly.

You answer by surging forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss. Max responds immediately, mouth moving urgently against yours. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his strong chest.

You sigh into the kiss, hands tangling into his hair. His lips are even softer than you imagined. You swipe your tongue along his bottom lip and Max parts them with a low groan.

As the kiss deepens, your desperation mounts. You need more, need to be closer. Straddling his lap, you rock your hips against his, feeling his growing arousal.

Max breaks the kiss with a gasp. “We should stop, the effects will wear off soon,” he protests weakly.

“Don’t want to stop,” you murmur, trailing kisses down his neck. You nip at his pulse point and Max lets out a strangled moan, resolve clearly wavering.

His hands grip your hips tightly as you continue to move against him. “We shouldn’t, not like this,” he tries again, but you silence him with another heated kiss.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. “Max, I want this. I want you. Not just because of the chocolates. I’ve always wanted you.”

Max’s eyes widen at your confession, before a vulnerable smile spreads across his face. “I’ve wanted you too, for so long,” he admits softly.

Cupping your face in both hands, he kisses you tenderly. When you eventually break apart, foreheads resting together, Max asks “Are you sure this is what you want? I don’t want you to regret anything.”

You smile and take his hand, rising from the couch and pulling him up with you.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you tell him sincerely. “Now take me to bed.”

His eyes darken and he laces his fingers through yours. “Gladly,” he murmurs, before leading you towards his bedroom and kicking the door shut behind you.

As soon as the door clicks closed, Max presses you up against it, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His hands roam your body eagerly as your own fumble to push his shirt up and off him.

Breaking the kiss, Max trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You gasp and arch into him, nails raking down his bare back.

Needing more, you reach for the hem of your own shirt but Max stops you.

“Let me,” he says huskily, grasping the fabric and lifting it up tantalizingly slowly to reveal your skin inch by inch. He pulls the shirt over your head and tosses it aside before returning his heated gaze to you.

Reaching behind you, Max deftly unhooks your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders to the floor. He hovers over you, grey eyes burning with desire as they rake over your newly exposed skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers reverently before ducking his head to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest.

Leaning in, he kisses down between your breasts before capturing a nipple in his mouth. You cry out, hands coming up to grip his hair tightly. He lavishes attention on your breasts until you are squirming against him desperately.

Sensing your need, Max scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bed. He lays you down gently against the rumpled sheets before settling over you, the hard planes of his body pressing deliciously against your own softer ones.

You kiss feverishly as you fumble with the drawstring of his shorts, shoving them down impatiently. Max kicks them off before reaching for the button of your jeans. Soon the last barriers between you are gone.

Max trails heated open-mouthed kisses down your stomach until he reaches the apex of your thighs. He looks up at you questioningly and you nod eagerly. You arch up into his touch, gasping and tangling your hands in his hair.

“Please Max,” you beg desperately, needing more.

At the first touch of his mouth on your most intimate area, you cry out his name, hands twisting into the sheets. He takes his time exploring you with his lips and tongue until you are writhing and gasping beneath him.

When you feel yourself teetering on the edge, you breathlessly beg Max to be inside you. Needing no further encouragement, he moves back up your body, positioning himself at your entrance.

He pauses, meeting your gaze. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says huskily before finally joining your bodies in one smooth motion. You both moan at the feeling of completion.

Max sets a steady rhythm, angling his hips until he finds the spot that makes you see stars. You feel the pressure building rapidly within you. Sensing you’re close, Max increases his pace. His thumb rubs tight circles over that sensitive bundle of nerves until you shatter around him with a cry. He follows right after, burying his face in your neck and groaning your name as he finds his own release.

You cling to each other as you come down, trading soft kisses and whispers of affection. Eventually Max rolls off of you, gathering you close against his chest.

“That was incredible,” Max murmurs, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. “You are incredible.”

You smile up at him adoringly. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He grins and squeezes you tight. You drift off curled safely in the arms of the man you’ve always loved, happier than you’ve ever been.

***

The next morning, you wake up to find your legs tangled with the man beside you. Last night had been incredible, even better than your wildest fantasies.

You feel Max begin to stir. Turning in his arms to face him, you meet his sleepy gaze.

“Morning,” Max smiles at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His expression turns serious. “How are you feeling?”

You know he’s asking about more than just the effects of the chocolates. You lift a hand to caress his cheek reassuringly.

“I’ve never been happier,” you tell him honestly.

Max’s face breaks into a radiant grin. He kisses you softly before pulling you tightly against his chest. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

“I’m so glad you feel the same way,” Max whispers into your hair. “I’ve wanted to tell you how I felt for so long but I didn’t want to risk our friendship if you didn’t feel the same.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze. “Well you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” you say, leaning in to kiss him languidly.

When you eventually break apart, Max smirks at you. “Remind me to send Lando a thank you card.”

You laugh and snuggle back into his embrace, making a mental note to pick up another box of those chocolates. Just in case.

[withwritersblock]

Everywhere, Everything

~Everywhere, Everything by Noah Kahan~ Author's Note: this idea has been circulating my mind for weeks, so here you go fam. blah blah blah words italtics are flashbacks Summary: long distance, it's hard lol Warnings: angst, swearing Word Count: 5,221 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

It was usual for her on Friday nights, if Luke was in town, for her to go to his house and spend the weekend with him. That was the plan, she had her duffle bag full to the brim of all of her clothing options and her school work necessities. She walked up the steps to see Ethan and Dylan were sitting on the porch drinking some beers.

“Have you talked to Hughesy yet?” Dylan asked, stopping Y/N in her tracks to spin around to meet his gaze. She shook her head slowly. He nodded while pressing his lips together, “You should-” he trailed off as he brought his drink to his lips again.

She stood still for a few seconds, her duffle bag feeling heavier by the second. Her gaze shifted between the pair of the boys, what were they implying? She took a deep breath as she entered the house. It was empty, but it was usually like that for Friday night. She walked down the hall towards Luke’s room and knocked before she pushed her way inside.

He was throwing random things into a bag when he lifted his gaze, he smiled so wide. “Baby,” he mumbled, dropping the pair of socks he had in his hand into the back. He engulfed her in a hug, savoring the moment. “They called,” he whispered into her ear. 

She felt her chest tighten as she felt her eyes tear up. She pulled away to meet his gaze. His cheeks flushed red as his smile was still wide and bright. His eyes scanned her features. 

“I’m so proud of you, my love,” she whispered, looking deeply into his eyes. He pressed his lips together shyly as he pulled away from her grasp, back towards the bag on the bed. She delicately placed hers on the floor. Clearing her throat, she questioned, “When do you leave?”

“Sunday morning, my flight is at like four in the morning.” he let out while shaking his head, he lifted his gaze towards her. She was nodding slowly, staring at the floor. “I only found out like two hours ago, I wanted to tell you in person,” he mumbled as he took steps towards her once more. 

He took a hold of her arms, scanning her teary features. “We’ll make it work, I will promise you that,” he said, tilting his head to try and maintain eye contact with her. 

She clenched her jaw as she smiled softly. “We’ll have the summer to worry about that,” she whispered as she rested her hand onto his chest. “Let’s just celebrate,” she mumbled.

“Celebrate?” he asked, raising his eyebrows fighting the smirk on his lips. She rolled her eyes playfully as she shoved him backwards slightly. 

“I meant dinner,” she teased before she took a hold of his hand, guiding him out of his room. “And then maybe some of that,” she spun around to meet his gaze, smirking.

“Aw, you’re taking me out to dinner, how sweet,” he teased. She gasped playfully.

“No sir, you’re paying with that big ‘ol NHL contract you’re about to get,” 

~~~

It was Luke’s last morning in Michigan before he was supposed to head to New Jersey for the rest of the season. They were laying in her bed, in her apartment, in silence. Her head rested on his chest as he kept his gaze towards the ceiling. His hand trailed delicately up and down her bare back.

“Are we doing this?” he asked, his voice hoarse. 

It was only a four word question but it held so much value. The entire summer they went back and forth on what would be best. Long distance or breaking up. They’ve been together for almost two years. Two years they didn’t want to throw down the drain because he was moving and living his dream.

But long distance is hard, harder than anyone could suspect when getting involved in a relationship. 

“Yeah,” she let out barely above a whisper as she absentmindedly ran her fingers up and down his chest. “We’re going to be okay,” she mumbled as she lifted her head to meet his eye.

He had a soft smile on his lips as his hand glided up her back, running his fingers through the ends of her hair. “Any time there’s a free weekend and I’m back in Jersey, you tell me and I’ll book your flight. No hesistation,” he mumbled. She nodded.  She leaned towards him, pressing her lips against his delicately. It was soft and intimate.

“Baby,” he mumbled against her lips. She pulled away, her breathing faster than before. She opened her eyes slowly, meeting his gaze. “I-” he started before he took a hold of the back of her neck softly as he pulled her towards him, kissing her urgently. 

Her finger tips grazed his skin, as she delicately took a hold of his chin. “I have to get ready to leave,” he said, pulling away. She kept her eyes shut, before she pecked his lips for a few seconds. She leaned her body away from him, letting him slip away from her. 

She fell onto her back, watching him get dressed before he wandered towards the bathroom. Her eyes shifted towards the ceiling fan, she watched it spin as she felt her eyes tear up. He reappeared after a few seconds, he wandered towards the hat sitting on the end table. He reached towards it.

“Wait,” she mumbled. He met her teary gaze, clenching his jaw. It was a Michigan beanie. It was one of her favorites that he wore. He wore it for the majority of the season last year, swore it was lucky. “Can you leave it?” she let out barely above a whisper. He glanced towards it and back towards her and nodded quickly.

“Of course,” he muttered leaning towards her, kissing her forehead, “I’ll dig into my bag to find a different one,” he smiled softly towards her before he wandered towards the living room. 

She stood up from the bed and began to get dressed in a hoodie and a pair of comfy shorts. He didn’t want her to travel to the airport with him, he was having Dylan drive him. She walked into the living room to see him adjusting the beanie on his head in her circle mirror. She smiled towards him, her heart beating loud and dramatically in her ear. 

He tilted his head to the side as he met her gaze, he felt tears fill his eyes. Suddenly aware of what this means. Her lips fell into a pout as she stepped towards him, he quickly engulfed her in a hug. He took a hold of the back of her head, holding her as close as he possibly could. His watch buzzed, he glanced down to see a text from Dylan.

“Duker’s here,” he mumbled before he pressed his lips to her forehead. She pulled her head away from his chest, scanning his features. He took a hold of her cheeks, rubbing his thumbs against her skin. “I love you,” he mumbled, looking deeply into her eyes. 

“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice cracking. He leaned towards her, kissing her urgently; knowing it’s the last time for months.

He reluctantly pulled away from her, pressing his lips together. He wiped his hand across his eyes, drying the tears. Majority of his stuff was in Jersey already, so he only had his suitcase he packed for the last two weeks in Michigan. He took a hold of it, turning around to look at Y/N. 

She shook her head, “You have to go now,” she mumbled, spinning around to not look at him. He stayed still, “I can’t watch you leave, you-you have to just go,” she said through a sob. He felt his heart shatter, he was going to miss her so much. 

“I love you,” he let out, walking towards the door. He dragged his suitcase behind him, “I’ll call you when I get to Jack’s, show you the apartment,” he explained as he walked towards the door, opening.

“Okay,” she let out.

He looked towards her, taking in a shaky breath before he forced himself out the door. The apartment door shut behind him. He continued down the hallway, letting himself cry. He wasn’t a crier. He rarely cried about anything but right now that’s all he could do. 

It didn’t take long for him to get down and out of the building. Dylan was sitting in his car right in front of the apartment building. Luke opened the trunk of the car and dropped his suitcase inside. He slammed it shut before he walked towards the passenger seat. He fell down into the seat and wiped his eyes once more. 

“Hey man,” Dylan let out as he began driving away from the apartment. 

“Hey, sorry I’m being a-” he trailed off as he shook his head, he wiped his eyes once more while taking a deep breath. 

“Don’t apologize, she’ll be alright. We’ll look out for her. You’ll be alright, you got your brother, and the NHL,” Dylan expressed as he slapped his hand against Luke’s shoulder. Luke nodded as he kept his jaw clenched. 

“Harder than I thought,” he mumbled as he ran his hand across his chin.

Back in Y/N’s apartment, she was sitting on her couch as she watched Friends. Her apartment door was pushed open to reveal her roommate and best friend, Penelope. She dropped her purse onto the counter and quickly moved towards Y/N on the couch. 

Y/N lifted her head to meet Penelope’s gaze. Y/N had been crying, the entire time since Luke left fifteen minutes ago. “I couldn’t look at him, I couldn’t watch him walk away,” she mumbled. Penelope pulled her towards her side, comforting her the best she could. 

“But you guys are still together?” she questioned.

“Yeah but I won’t see him for months, I’m not strong enough for this,” Y/N cried out. 

“Yes, yes you are, you two are meant to be,” Penelope mumbled as she stroked Y/N’s hair. “It’s just for a year and a half right? You took summer courses this summer, got ahead. It’ll be okay, you guys will get through it,” 

~Oct. 12~

She was sitting in front of her vanity, finishing her makeup for her evening out on the town. Penelope, the UMich hockey team, their partners, and herself were all going to one of the local sports bars. Tonight was the opening game of the regular season for the Devils and the Red Wings. 

So they wanted to go watch and support Luke.

It was three hours until game time and Luke was starting to FaceTime her. She perked up excitedly as she set up her phone against the mirror as she accepted the call. He was getting ready in the bathroom, he was shirtless with his hair dripping wet still. Her eyes widened at the sight, he chuckled as he saw the shocked look on her features. 

“Hey, love,” she mumbled as she smiled widely. 

“Where are you going looking all pretty?” he asked as he leaned down towards the camera, trying to get a better look. She smiled shyly as she dropped her gaze towards the mascara in her makeup bag. The second to last step in her routine. 

“A whole bunch of us are going to Scorekeepers to watch your game,” she said excitedly as she began untwisting her mascara to apply it to her eyes. 

“Wait really?” he asked, his cheeks flushed red instantly.

“Yeah, the team is going to be there, they’re bringing their girlfriends and Penelope is coming with me too,” she explained as she began applying her mascara.

He ran a towel over his hair harshly, specifically at that moment so she wouldn’t tell him to stop. “That’s great, I hope you have fun,” he mumbled as he dropped the towel to the floor, he took a hold of some of his hair products as he began to style his damp hair.

“We will, are you nervous?” she questioned dropping the tube into her bag before she reached for her highlighter. She watched him shake his head. “That’s good,” she muttered. 

“My game day looks are going to be rough without you doing my hair for me,” he expressed, a chuckle leaving his throat as he looked towards his phone screen to meet her gaze.

She smiled widely while letting out a giggle, “It looks cute,” she mumbled. He smiled softly as he scanned her features through the phone screen, his chest aching. 

“Can you visit this weekend? I’ve got a game tomorrow but then I just have practices Saturday and Sunday,” he asked, his body erupting in tingles as his breath caught in his throat. 

Her smile faltered slightly, “I’ve got to work this weekend, my love, I need the money.”

He nodded as he clenched his jaw. “Okay, yeah,” he cleared his throat, “We’ll plan for another weekend. We’ll figure it out,” he said, forcing a smile onto his lips. She pouted her lip as she tilted her head back blinking rapidly, “It’s okay, baby, we’ll find a weekend,” he reassured. She nodded. 

It was several hours later and it was halfway through the first period. She sighed as yet another man walked up beside her and began flirting with her. “Let me buy you a drink,” he muttered, raising his hand up to try and get the bartender's attention. He failed.

“No, I’m okay, thank you though,” she muttered as she met his kind gaze. 

“Okay, no problem. I’m Dean,” he introduced himself, offering his hand to her. Y/N scanned his frame, ashamed of the butterflies circluating her stomach. She shook his head.

“Y/N, but I should tell you I have a boyfriend,” she explained, smiling. His smirk fell from his lips for only a moment before he smiled again.

“Cool, is he here with you?” he asked, glancing around the bar for some sign of said boyfriend. His gaze lands on an angry looking Dylan in the corner of the bar. 

“He’s not, no,” she mumbled, bringing the glass of water towards her lips. She took a sip while maintaining eye contact. “We’re long distance,” she explained. He nodded, leaning his body against the bartop. 

“Where does he live?” Dean pressed on, it wasn’t to try and make a move on her. It was more curiosity than anything. 

“Jersey,” she said, glancing back towards the screen to see the power play on the ice. Luke on the ice. Her eyes admired the forty-three on the ice before she looked back towards Dean. 

“Wait,” Dean said, glancing at the TV and then back down towards her. “Is your boyfriend Luke Hughes?” he questioned. She furrowed her eyebrows harshly, as she slowly nodded. “He’s one lucky guy,” he said, scanning her frame once more, biting his bottom lip in the process. He didn’t say anything else before he wandered away from her. 

She found herself smiling, she forced the smile off of her lips as she switched her gaze to the TV screen just as Jack scored. The UMich team erupted in cheers, while everyone else in the bar groaned. 

Dylan stepped in front of her, a scowl on his lips. “What are you doing?” he questioned harshly.

She clenched her jaw as she met Dylan’s gaze, “What?” she asked quietly. 

“What was that? You have a boyfriend, you know,” he accused. Her mouth fell open as she let out a huff of air. 

She clenched her jaw as she felt her skin get hot and her eyes filled with tears. “Luke’s been gone for almost two months,” she began, she paused as she took a shaky breath, “We talk once a day and it’s only to update each other about our lives. I miss my boyfriend and I’m sorry but I miss the attention,” she said, throwing her arms in the air. 

Dylan tilted his head to the side, a sad smile on his lips.

“I miss getting kissed,” she started, a tear falling onto her cheek, “I miss talking about anything other than hockey. I miss being held. I miss being flirted with. I miss my boyfriend. But I can’t see him because I have to work my stupid minimum wage job every weekend because I can’t afford to not work! So excuse me, if I want to enjoy the attention of an unfortunately cute boy!”

“Y/N,” he mumbled.

“I don’t need this,” she mumbled, meeting Dylan’s gaze, “I’m going to watch the rest of the game at home,” she said standing up from her barstool. 

“Y/N don’t, come on, I’m sorry. He’s my best friend-I was just-” he ranted on but she walked away, out of the bar towards her car. 

The game finished with a win and Luke finally looked at his phone once he stepped inside the apartment with Jack behind him. There was one text from Y/N and about fifteen texts from Dylan. 

Duker: Dude! Awesome win

Duker: You played fucking great! Listen though, call me? I gotta tell you something

Duker: damn dude the game ended like an hour ago, call me?!

Duker: HELLO!? HUGHESY??

The messages continued on like that. He furrowed his eyebrows harshly as he pulled his phone to his ear as he called him. “Dukes, what's wrong?” Luke asked, glancing toward Jack before he wandered into his bedroom. 

“Hey man, you played great, so proud and all that. Call your girlfriend more,” he began. Luke's face scrunched together at the sudden statement.

“What?” Luke let out.

“She’s miserable and you only calling her once a fucking day isn’t helping,” Dylan expressed.

“What are you talking about?” Luke questioned as he kicked his shoes off and shoved them towards the side table. 

“She’s lonely and misses you. She’s-you have no right to get pissed at her when I tell you this by the way,” he paused. Luke’s eyes widened as he slowly sat down on his bed, “She’s letting guys flirt with her at bars because you aren’t giving her any attention,” 

He clenched his jaw hard as his fist tightened as he slammed his fist against the mattress. He licked his lips as he tilted his head back. Shutting his eyes he let out a long drawn out breath. 

“She could call me too,” he let out, “If-if she’s-”

“Come on, man, she doesn’t want to be an inconvience to you. You’re living a life none of us understand,” he let out. 

Luke tilted his head back, feeling his eyes fill with tears, “I can’t hear her voice more than once a day because I miss her so fucking much I can’t think about anything else,” 

“Tell her that Hughesy, come on,” Dylan said, a huff of air leaving his lips. “Call her,” Dylan demanded before he hung up the phone. Luke slowly dropped his phone from his ear as he pulled up her contact.

He stared at the profile photo, it was a photo of them after their one year anniversary. He was kissing her cheek as she was smiling widely. He pressed the call button as he pulled it towards his ear, he laid down on his back. He stared towards the ceiling. She answered on the second ring. 

“Hey,” she mumbled, her voice cracking, “Great job tonight, my love,”

He shut his eyes, feeling like a weight collapsed on his chest. “Thank you, beautiful,” he let out, his voice scratchy. It was silent for a few seconds, “I fucking miss you,” he let out, a sob climbing in his throat. 

“This is harder than we thought, huh?” she let out, clearly crying. He swallowed hard as he pressed his lips together.

“Request off the weekend before Halloween, please,” he begged, “I need to see you,” he continued. She swallowed hard as she hummed. 

After a couple minutes, the conversation wasn’t filled with sadness as they chatted about the game. “It’s going to take a while to get used to,” he let out, a chuckle leaving his throat. She hummed breathily. 

He was laying in bed, staring towards the ceiling, biting his bottom lip as he began to remember the last morning of them together. The feeling of her lips on his skin, her breathy moans in his ear. He craved her, he needed her yet she was so far away. 

“Hey,” he let out barely above a whisper, tilting his head back. 

“Yeah?” she let out, a smile forming to her lips. 

“You alone?” he asked. She let out a soft giggle.

~Feb~

The broadcast team announced that Luke would not be returning to the game due to a lower body injury. She was pacing back and forth, Penelope trying to calm her down. It was no use. It was probably precautionary because got off the ice on his own accord but right now all she can think about is that he was out for the remainder of the season. He was going to be in a bad mood all of the time now. 

It was his rookie year, she understood that he was stressed, allowing him to have those days. He needed those days to fully process everything he was going through. The game was slowly coming to an end, a loss for the Devils. It seemed like that was becoming more and more common this season. 

“He’s probably fine,” Penelope offered again, her jaw clenched hard as she spoke. Remaining on the couch, she continued to watch Y/N pace back and forth.

“Please don’t-” she mumbled before her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, it was Luke. She pulled the phone to her ear, “Baby?” she questioned as she wandered towards her bedroom, away from Penelope. 

“Hey, my love, I’m alright.” he began, he took in a sharp breath, “It looked worse than it is,” he explained. He sounded out of breath but he was probably walking back towards his car. He had driven seperate from Jack. 

“Are you sure? You’re walking okay?” she questioned as she ran her hand across her mouth. 

He hummed, “They gave me the option if I wanted to go back but I’d rather take the rest of the period off and rest for the next roadie,” he explained. She tilted her head back, letting out a long drawn out breath, “I promise I’m all good, We’ll watch a movie later, okay?” 

They were starting to do that most nights, use Teleparty to watch movies together and just enjoy each other’s presence. It helps a lot with their relationship. They rarely talk but it helps them. 

“Yeah, yeah, miss your face,” she muttered as she let out a dry chuckle. 

A wide smile formed on his lips as he dropped in his driver seat of his car. He tilted his head back. “God, I miss you,” he mumbled as he clenched his jaw. “When’s your spring break?” he asked as he connected his phone to bluetooth. He buckled his seatbelt.

“March seventeeth to March twenty-fourth,” she mumbled, a small smile on her lips.

While pulling out of his parking spot, “I’ll book your flight, you’re visiting,” he said with a smile as he waited at the red light. She giggled, it was like music to his ears. “And don’t pull the whole, I got to work because I’ll send you your paycheck to make up for it,” he said with a small chuckle. 

“Luke, don’t even think about it,” she said while laughing, she collapsed down onto her bed, staring towards the ceiling. “But that was the plan, of course,” she expressed. 

“Good because the second I get home, I’m booking you a first class flight,” he explained as he continued driving, the smile on his lips never wavering. 

“Okay, my love, call me when you get back home,” she mumbled as she kept her gaze on the ceiling fan. 

“I will, find a movie for us,” he let out as he hung up the phone.

After another thirty minutes, Luke was sprailed out on his bed, shirtless as he propped up his laptop beside him. His hair was wet across his forehead as he took a cold shower once he got home. 

He heard a knock on his door as Jack pushed open the door, “Hey man how’s that-oh,” he let out as he stared towards Luke’s appearance and his laptop, “Am I interrupting anything,” he trailed off. Luke chuckled nervously, squinting his eyes slightly. His cheeks flushed red.

“No, she’s not even on FaceTime yet,” Luke mumbled, chuckling. He rolled onto his back to meet Jack’s gaze. Jack nodded slowly, a smirk forming on his lips. “What do you want?” Luke asked with a smirk on his lips.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Jack crossed his arms over his chest, still smirking. Luke nodded.

“My girlfriend is coming to visit in three weeks for the whole week,” he sing songed, Jack’s mouth fell open as he smacked his hand against Luke’s shoulder.

“That’s great! You need to see her,” Jack mumbled, “How’s that knee?” he crossed his arms over his chest again. Luke shrugged as Y/N began calling him.

“Hurts, but it’s just a strain, it’ll be fine,” he said. He brought his finger to his lips as he answered the phone. He didn’t need her to know that it was a bit worse than he told her. Jack shook his head as he walked out of the room, shutting the door. 

~April 3rd, 2024~

It was the most anticipated game in the hockey world for a few days now. It was late in the third and the Devils were down by a goal. Luke had practically played the entire game, over thirty minutes in ice time. He was exhausted. He was frustrated. All she wanted to do was to give him a hug and cuddle him. 

Luke skates with the puck, sluggish and tired. He was pushing through it the best he could. She covered her mouth with her hands as he wrists a shot towards the net, the game ended a few seconds later. He skates towards the bench with the rest of his teammates behind him. 

Penelope wasn’t there to watch the game with her tonight, which was probably for the best. She had a feeling it would be a while till he called her. She shot up from her couch and began to walk towards her bathroom. 

She walked through the airport, searching for Luke. He was standing beside a girl, forcing a smile on his lips as they took a photo. She thanked him quickly before she quickly walked away from him. Luke dropped his head, laughing nervously.

Y/N continued manuvering through the crowd of people. His eyes widened once he spotted her. It only took a few more steps before she let go of her suitcase and jumped into his arms. 

Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as her cheeks pressed against his cheek. He wrapped his arms around the center of her back. Her eyes shut tightly as she felt her chest tighten. 

“I love you,” she mumbled as ran her fingers through the ends of his hair. It was longer than the last time she saw it. 

“I get you the whole week, how lucky am I?” he muttered into her ear as she slowly slipped down his body. Her hands glided from the back of his neck, towards his cheeks. She rested her hands on his cheek as she scanned his flushed features. He leaned towards her, kissing her urgently, not afraid of any wandering eyes or cameras that could catch the moment.

He needed her to be as close as possible. His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her body towards him, “Come on, Baby girl, we’ve got the apartment to ourselves for a couple hours,” he whispered against her lips.

She finished showering, putting on a tanktop and a pair of shorts as she began to clean up her bedroom. She was wandering around her room, picking up random ideas to organize the place. 

After a few minutes, she received a FaceTime call from Luke. She quickly sat down on her bed, answering the call instantly. She brushed a wet piece of hair away from her face as she stared towards Luke. He was showered as well, laying on his bed. His head was tilted back against the headrest. 

His eyes were evidently scanning her face on his screen. He clenched his jaw as he took in a sharp breath. He shut his eyes hard as he began tearing up. 

“I’m so tired,” he let out, his voice cracking as he spoke. Her lips fell into a pout as she scooted back against the bed. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he let out barely above a whisper. He opened his eyes, as a tear fell onto his cheek.

“Hey, hey, what do you mean?” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. He shook his head as he pressed his lips together.

“I can’t handle the pressure, it’s too much,” he let out, another tear falling onto his cheek. 

“Baby, it was a tough game-”

“It wasn’t just the game though, Can’t open Twitter without seeing everyone hate on me. I can’t do this,” he let out while shaking his head. 

Y/N clenched her jaw as she tilted her head to the side. “Luke, it’s just a bad stretch of games. It’s not just on you, you need to take some weight off your shoulders,” she tried to help him. 

“I can’t do that, I can’t do anything right,” he said, crying, tilting her head to the side as she met his gaze through the phone screen. “I miss you, I just wish you were in Jersey with me. I can’t handle another year of this,” he groaned out.

“I miss you too, my love. Luke, you are stronger than you think. I love you so much, you will get past this, you will find a way out. You are going to be just fine. The season is almost done, you’ll get a lot of rest. And you’ll see me for months straight to the point you’ll get tired of me,” she said with a sad smile forming on her lips. His lips curled upward slightly, a dry chuckle leaving his throat. 

“Not possible, I could never get tired of you,” he said, happy to hear those words, “What if,” he paused as his eyebrows furrowed harshly in thought, “What if I stayed with you for a few days after the season is done?” he asked. Her eyes lit up excitedly.

“What if you stayed until the semester ends?” she asked, a smile on her face.

“Would Penelope be okay with that?” he asked.

“Baby, I think she would rather you be here all the time than hear me cry about missing you another minute,” she said with a wide smile, “And I’m sure the boys would love to see you,” she expressed. 

“Then it’s a plan,” he said with a smile, his tears no longer falling. “I love you so much,”

[we-are-maladaptive]

summer afternoon!

....

The sun is high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the lake in front of your house. Sitting comfortably in your relaxing chair, you watch your four children splash and play in the cool, clear water. The warm summer breeze rustles the leaves of the trees, adding to the ambiance of the afternoon.

"Katsuma, don't go too far!" you call out to your 10-year-old son, who is testing the limits of his swim area. The boy is quite the brat but respectful of you. He moves toward the shallow area, however, not without an eye roll reaching to the back of his head.

Fumiko, your 9-year-old daughter, is quietly collecting smooth stones along the water's edge. "Look! I found a perfect skipping stone!" she says, her eyes shining with excitement.

"That's great, Fumiko," you reply, smiling at your daughter.

Meanwhile, the twin boys, Isamu and Akio, are up to their usual antics. "We caught a fish!" Isamu shouts, holding up a small, wriggling creature. Isamu then decides the best way to use the poor fish is to slap it directly onto poor Akio's face… leaving him all slimy.

"Let it go, Isamu!" you instruct, "…and STOP hitting your brother, or I will take you back inside with your father."

"Aw, Mom," Isamu whines. "I just wanted to show you."

Luckily, Akio is not too fazed, resorting to sticking out his tongue at his brother and washing his face with the lake water.

The boy reluctantly releases the fish back into the water, immediately grabbing his brother and diving back in to search for more adventures. Their laughter and shouts echo across the lake, a testament to their boundless energy and mischief.

Suddenly, Katsuma and Fumiko join forces, trying to construct a small raft out of driftwood and leaves. "Do you think this will float?" Katsuma asks, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

"Only one way to find out," Fumiko replies with a grin.

The twins, not to be outdone, begin building a sandcastle on the shore, their competitive spirits driving them to create the tallest, most elaborate structure possible.

After a while, you call out, "How about some smoothies? Your father should almost be done with them."

"Yeah!" All four children rush out of the lake, water trailing behind them as they run toward the house. Trailing behind them, you chuckle softly, enjoying the simple yet joyful chaos of a summer day.

That joy dies down slightly as you view their muddy feet running straight onto your precious marble floors.

Sigh.

Katsuki raises an eyebrow at the stampede of drenched children running into his kitchen. He then furrows both of his brows at the dark foot marks staining his floors.

"WHAT did I tell you 'bout running in this house with dirty feet?" He glares at his eldest, "We have pavement for a damn reason, so why the hell are you still runnin' in the grass for, hm?"

"Oh! Well… uhm…"

"That's what I thought. Since this is the third time, you're helping your ma' clean it up."

"BUT DA-"

"Nope. Now eat y'r damn smoothie before I eat it for you."

As the children eagerly grab their favorite flavors, Fumiko turns to you and her father. "Thanks, Ma n' Pa. This is the best summer ever."

You smile, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the summer sun. "I'm glad you're all having fun. Now go back and enjoy the lake."

The children need no further encouragement and quickly return to their games. You walk slowly back outside, savoring the moment. Katsuki joins you this time, but instead joins his children in the water and has found contentment in throwing his daughter high into the sky before she falls back into the water with a splash. The rest immediately want to join as well. The sounds of their laughter and the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore fill your heart with peace.

This is what summer is all about: lazy days, playful children, and the simple pleasures of life.

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

Made by me

The Masterlist

CRAZY OVER YOU

[HYBRID AU]

[FINISHED]✅

Side Characters: Namjoon/doctor, Seokjin/doctor, Taehyung/Hybrid Tiger, Jungkook/Bunny Hybrid, Hoseok/assistant.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of blood, sharp objects, rut, beast behavior.

Genre: Fantasy, hybrids au, smut.

SUMMARY》 Yoongi is a black mamba hybrid one of rarest species of hybrids, who’s about to be put down due to his lack of interest in living. But everything changes after the new medical assistance (y/n) takes a liking to him. Meeting after meeting he realise his feelings for her are not the only thing growing.

INTRO - In the books they say

ONE - Love at first bite

TWO - Bath me with your love

THREE - Hungry for your love I

FOUR - The truth untold II

FIVE - Bitter taste, Jealousy and bites

SIX - Take Me Home

SEVEN - The last bite

SET ME FREE

[MAFIA AU]

On Going

Side Characters: Min Yoongi as Agust D/Mafia boss, Jung Hoseok as Jack/Concierge, Namjoon/Police detective, Jungkook/Police detective, Park Jimin/thief and gang leader, Taehyung/Mafia member FBI Mole, Paradise owner. Jin/unknown, Busan/Mafia boss.

Warnings: This story contains nsfw content (descriptive blood, gore, etc.) as well as sexual content. Mentions may include violence, consumption of alcohol, explicit sexual interactions, sharp objects, knife play, description of injuries, themes of major horror and also explores obsessive behaviors and codependency, robbery, killing, guns, torturing, fire, toxic yandere men, violence, possessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships.

SUMMARY: You made it. Now a police intern as you always promised to your father before he died, you were more than happy to finally be able to help people like he did. But the law was not what you expected to be like. You did not know how lonely it would be for a young woman to grow her career in this kingdom. Having to take care of your 18 year old brother wasn't easy too and things just got a lot worse when you've met Agust D. The king of the mafia Min. He sure knew how to make a life turn into a hell hole.

INTRO

ONE - Red Chopsticks

TWO - I’ll find you in a dark Paradise

THREE - A deal with the devil

FOUR - Welcome to my world

FIVE - Good girl gone bad COMING SOON

SIX - Dance with the devil COMING SOON

7 FINAL DESTINATION - LILITH COMING SOON

BREATH OF FIRE

[HYBRID GODS AU]

On Going

Side characters: Park Jimin/White fox hybrid.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, violence, sharp objects, suggestive words, smut, alcohol, killing.

Genre: Fantasy, romance, strangers to lovers, R +18.

SUMMARY: Did you know a fox only mates once in their life? For almost 400 years Min Yoongi never mated before, all theses years of emptiness and loneliness. He had tried so many times to end with his own hands. Until one night a hint of sweet and fire blows towards his nose, the smell was something he never felt before. And blood. Running for your life you felt hopeless in front of a lake, two man following you behind. Their disgusting smiles and eyes savoring your female body, you knew what they would do but you'd rather die. It all started with fire.

INTRO - Run little girl

ONE - Wood, cinnamon and honey.

TWO - Please wash away this blood on my skin

THREE - A taste of honey and dreams

FOUR - A rise from the shadows (coming soon)

FIVE - Lost in two worlds (coming soon)

SIX - Moon Knights and The Gods (coming soon)

SEVEN - FINAL BREATH (coming soon)

BUNNY BUNS

[HYBRID AU]

COMING SOON

Side Characters: Yoongi/black cat hybrid, Hoseok/human, Taehyung/golden hybrid.

Warnings: Smut, violence, mentions of blood. And finally some fluff.

SUMMARY: Jungkook needed to hide. He was on the run. And what better place for a bunny hybrid to hide then a Bunny coffee shop? How could he resist? You smelled sweet and looked nice. All it took was one smile of yours and a bunny bread and he was on all fours for you.

INTRO - Bunny on the run

ONE - Bunnies don’t like water (coming out 05/06)

TWO - Carrot Cake 🥕(coming soon)

THREE - Bunny in the kitchen (coming soon)

FOUR - Muscle Bunny to the rescue (coming soon)

FIVE - Bunny Fever (coming soon)

SIX - The last Bun (Coming soon)

ONE SHOTS

Coming soon

YOONGI

My Best Friends Crush

Characters: Min Yoongi/music theory Teacher, Jung Hoseok/dance teacher, Jungkook/art and design student, Jimin/danc student, reader/art student.

Genre: strangers to lovers, forbidden love?

Warnings: mentions of explicit language, sexual references(smutty material), consumption of alcohol, age difference.

Summary: “my whole life I always hated rules and protocols, growing to fin comfort on art as I could express myself unapologetically and freely. But there was one rule I made with myself; never fall in love with your friend crush.

With my rebellious nature, it was bound to be broken but I just never meet someone who would take that seriously.”

HOSEOK

JIMIN

JUNGKOOK

JIN

NAMJOON

TAEHYUNG

[daisynik7]

if your karaoke event is still open i’d like to request glamorous by fergie with sugar daddy!nanami - fluff and smut, maybe some mile high inspired by “We flyin' the first class, up in the sky” thanks!

Glamorous

We flyin' the first class up in the sky

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.4k

cw: established relationship, smut - semi-public sex, vaginal sex (cowgirl position), dry humping, clitoral stimulation, pet names, slight daddy kink

Summary: Your sugar daddy takes you halfway across the world in first class, so naturally, things get a little naughty. 

Author’s Note: Love love love sugar daddy!Nanami and this is such a classic for the y2k karaoke party. Thanks for the request and I hope you like this! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune (as always).

You make it very obvious that you’ve never been in first-class before. As Nanami holds your hand, leading you down the aisle, you audibly gasp at how large the seats are, and how there are actually barriers for privacy. You’ve only ever seen this on Youtube or Instagram, never in real life. And now, you’re here, about to experience it for yourself! It’s crazy how your life has taken a drastic turn in just a few short months. 

Nanami was your first customer at the bakery you opened in the beginning of the year. He ordered two croissants, one plain and the other almond. He sat at a table, savoring each bite slowly. When he was done, he approached you, complimenting your pastry skills. You noticed flaky crumbs scattered on his tie as he was turning to leave, and without thinking properly, you tugged on it, pulling him towards you, patting at his chest with heat surrounding your cheeks. In that moment, the both of you were already smitten with each other. It took a month for you to figure out how well-off he is. It wasn’t because he was hiding it or anything; it just never mattered much to either of you. When you put the pieces together, sure, you were surprised. But even before that, you were falling fast for him. This extra bit is just an added bonus. 

The flight attendant directs you to your assigned section all the way towards the back of the plane, somewhat secluded from the other passengers. You settle into the seat by the window, appreciating how comfortable it is compared to all the other regular economy class you’ve sat in. The excitement must be showing on your face because Nanami lets out a small laugh, watching you with an amused smile on his face. “Having fun?”

You grin at him. “Maybe a little too much.”

He holds your hand, placing soft kisses between your knuckles. “Well, keep enjoying it, my love. It’s going to be a long flight. Thank you again for accompanying me on this business trip. Are you sure the bakery will be okay?”

You wave him off. “It’s in great hands, so don’t worry about it at all. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

“Me too,” he says, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. He lingers for longer than you expect, then brushes past your cheek to whisper in your ear, “Can’t wait to get you on top of me.”

You tap on his chest playfully, heat surrounding your face, flustered. “Kento, we’re in public.”

He tips his head to the side. “And…?”

“We can’t do it here. Not when there’s people around.”

He reaches for the door, sliding it shut. If you didn’t already know that you were amongst others, it truly does seem like you have your own private space. “Is this better?” he asks.

You roll your eyes at him despite the fluttering in your belly, thrilled about the possibilities. “Behave yourself.”

He plants a smooch on your cheek, acting innocently. “Okay, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

~~~

More than thirty thousand feet up in the air, four hours into the flight, and the best airplane food you’ve ever had in your life properly digested, you and Nanami are ready for bed. All the cabin lights are dimmed low and the flight attendants check in one last time before wishing you goodnight. Your boyfriend closes the door quietly then reclines his seat halfway, resting his palms behind his head. He glances at you, smirking as he closes his eyes completely shut. “Well, goodnight.”

You study him silently, wondering if you should jump on this opportunity to do something naughty or if you should just go to sleep, like a good girl. He peeks at you with one eye, catching your gaze. “Something on your mind?” he asks, as if he already knows the answer. 

You shrug, unsure how to bring it up without eating your words from earlier. Luckily, he doesn’t make you. He beckons you over, patting his lap, voice low and sultry. “Come here.”

Worried that everyone on the outside of your pod will become aware of the nefarious deed you’re about to commit, you move quietly, stripping down to your underwear before you straddle him, arms linked behind his neck. He stares up at you, a pleased expression on his face, expecting this. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.” 

So maybe he makes you eat your words just a tad bit.

You bite your lip, holding back whimpers as you grind on him, feeling his cock starting to harden after a few strokes back and forth. His grip is firm on your hips, barely guiding you, letting you be in control. He reaches towards you, pressing his thumb to your clothed clit, relishing the wet spot beginning to leak through the fabric of your panties. A moan escapes you, leading to him cover your mouth with his palm, chuckling. “Honey, you have to promise to be quiet, okay? I know how loud you can get.”

You nod. “I’ll be quiet, I promise,” you whisper against his skin. 

He smiles, fingers at your chin, thumb grazing the outline of your lips. “Good girl. Now make yourself come before I give you this cock.” 

Remaining still, he lets you dry hump him slowly, savoring it with his grip still firm on your hips. His breathing wavers, trying to maintain his composure, gradually unraveling from the anticipation of soon being buried in your wet cunt. As soon as you reach your first orgasm, panties soaked with your arousal, he shrugs his bottoms off just enough to free his stiff cock, glistening with precum at the tip. He reaches for the bag beside him, retrieving a bottle of lube from one of the pockets, squirting it onto his palm to coat his cock with it. His eyes never leave yours, licking his lips like he’s salivating.

You lift off your knees, trying to remove your underwear, but he brings you back to him, rutting his shaft against the dampness of your panties. “Don’t. I want you like this.” He hooks the fabric to the side, tapping his wetted tip at your clit before sliding his entire length inside you. You cling to him tighter, nestling your face into his shoulder, holding back your moans. 

He begins thrusting up into you while he bounces you on his dick, his fingers digging into your flesh. “Fuck,” he mutters, brows tight with concentration. One hand glides to your ass cheek, squeezing it. For a brief moment, it hovers over your skin, and before you can convince not to do it, he slaps your ass, the smack surely loud enough for any of your neighbors to her. 

You hiss his name, heat engulfing your entire body now. “Kento!” All he does is laugh, kissing you sloppily to prevent you from scolding him any further. 

The seat beneath you starts creaking noisily when Nanami picks up the pace, fucking you feverishly, sweat beading from his forehead. You gain a second wind, riding him deep as he plays with your clit once more, rubbing it between his fingers. “Fuck, daddy,” you whine, grinding on him, cunt squeezing around him as you approach your second orgasm.

“That’s it, princess. Come for me. Make a fucking mess for daddy,” he growls, thrusting faster, harder, fingers squelching lewdly on your swollen bud. You come for him, whimpering into his mouth as you kiss each other passionately. He comes shortly after, shooting his hot load inside you, filling you up with his cream pie. 

Before you can relax in each other’s arms as you normally would post-sex, there’s a gentle knocking on the door, startling you both. You hop off him, kicking your discarded pants somewhere hidden, retreating back into your seat, covering yourself quickly with a blanket. Nanami pulls his pants back up, doing the same, clearing his throat before answering, sliding the door just a crack. “Yes?”

The flight attendant beams at you, seemingly oblivious to what just occurred. “Your call light is on, so I’m just checking in!”

Nanami blushes, running his fingers through his hair. “I must have hit it on accident. Sorry about that.”

They smile, giving you both a knowing wink. “Don’t worry. Happens all the time. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

With that, Nanami shuts the door, hiding his laughter behind his hand as you huddle beneath the blanket, mortified at being caught, officially a member of the mile high club. 

[lilasamaaa]

Havana | Charles Leclerc & Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genre | Angst, Hurt, Smut.

Word count | 5.0K

Warnings | Sexual content, alcohol consumption, cheating, some gaslighting, heartbreak!!

Summary | Reader and Charles, who've been dating for a few years, go on a trip to Cuba between two races. A few days before leaving, they learn that Carlos and Rebecca will be staying at the same resort. Good news, right? Well, if you forget Carlos and reader's years-long mutual attraction. Inspired by the « She chose me/Did she? » trend on TikTok… with a twist.

Author's note | Lord... This was so filthy I'm sorry. This piece is the result of this poll! Wrote half of this listening to These Walls by Dua Lipa, the other with Never Be The Same by Camila Cabello. Just so you get the mood. Not proofread, sorry!

She had been waiting for these holidays for months.

Since the beginning of the season, she hadn't been able to travel with Charles to any race, having no available days off. She was jealous of the others wags. The influencers. The ones who could rearrange their schedules in the blink of an eye to follow their boyfriends to the other side of the world without thinking about the consequences. But she'd foolishly chosen to pursue studies, foolishly found a job in marketing, foolishly trapped herself without even realizing it. She loved her job. Or at least, that's what she repeated to herself every morning when her alarm went off at 6 a.m. Sharp.

She had followed the start of the season through her TV and phone, and had savored every brief moment Charles had spent in Monaco (which represented, like... twenty days, tops, since the beginning of March). She knew she couldn't complain. That she didn't have the right to. She'd chosen to share her life with a high-level and high-profile athlete, and this situation couldn't obviously be all positive. She knew that other women would have sold their souls to be in her place. To wake up next to Charles, even just once a month. So, she never complained. She endured.

Charles had returned from China two days earlier, and they were heading to Cuba this afternoon, preparing for ten days of pure bliss. She was euphoric. Delighted not to set her alarm for the next day, delighted not to see her boss and colleagues for ten days, delighted to spend time with Charles. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Yet... There was something.

Yesterday night, at the restaurant, as they were making the final preparations, Charles' phone had lit up on the table and the driver had grabbed it, staring at the screen for a few seconds before exclaiming, "Non, j'y crois pas!". She had shot him a questioning look, and her boyfriend had chuckled before saying "Carlos just texted me. Him and Rebecca are staying at the same resort as us in Havana. This is gonna be so cool."

Oh.

She hadn't responded, just smiled, and returned her attention to the plate of pasta in front of her. Carlos was... a friend. Well, it was actually hard to define. He was obviously primarily Charles' friend, but they had crossed paths quite regularly in the past few years, and naturally, they had hit it off. There was just one issue. One tiny thing.

The man drove her crazy. It was ridiculous. Almost humiliating. She had been sharing her life with Charles for four years. She was happy. She was in love! But... She couldn't deny that Carlos made her feel things that Charles never had. Just the thought of acknowledging this made her want to throw up.

She had never acted on her impulses. Absolutely never. But... she could have. She had noticed glances.

It had started one evening at the restaurant, in 2021, when the two Ferrari drivers had organized a double date for their partners to meet. She had immediately loved Isa, with whom she had hit it off right away. The dinner had gone admirably well, the food was amazing, the wine delicious. The wine. There had been too much of it. They all probably thought so, seeing the bottles go by, but no one had stopped. No one wanted to be the one to break the great mood of the evening. So, they’d drank. Again and again.

If at the beginning of the meal, Carlos had just been casting curious glances in her direction, the wine had changed that. By the time Charles was explaining to Isa how they had met, the Spaniard was piercing her with his gaze. Equally intoxicated and never one to back down from a challenge, she had not flinched at the driver's boldness, holding his gaze, not even blinking. It had lasted a minute. Maybe two. Or even five, before Charles had asked her the name of the movie they'd seen on their third date, you know, the one with the mansion, and she’d finally tore her gaze away from Carlos.

"I believe that was Knives Out," she'd replied, smiling fondly at her boyfriend.

The conversation had resumed its course, and a few hours later, the two couples had parted ways. Lying in bed, in the middle of the night, she could still feel Carlos' burning gaze on her. That could have been nothing. She could always blame it on the wine. But there'd been more.

One day, Charles had suggested that she came with him to an interview he was going to do with Carlos. "It won't take long," he had said. "And as soon as it's over, we'll go grab a bite at that Mexican restaurant you love". She had agreed. The questions had started simple.

"What would be your perfect day?"

"What's your pre-race tradition?"

"Describe your ideal woman"

Even though she had been browsing her phone for a while, absorbed by the device, this question had made her look up. Locking eyes with Charles, the driver had smiled at her before answering.

"That's rather easy to answer, because I've already found her. My ideal woman is career-oriented. She works hard, doesn't count her hours. She wants to succeed because she deserves it, not because she's dating me. She excels in everything she undertakes. She sets no limits for herself, fears nothing. Tries everything. She can be uncompromising, but she knows how to be gentle and caring. She has weaknesses, but she only shows them to me. I am her refuge, and she is mine."

She had smiled, touched, blowing a kiss to her boyfriend.

"Carlos?" the interviewer had said.

"My ideal woman..." the Spaniard had started, searching for his words. "Actually, I have the same, erm… taste as Charles. But I would add that my ideal woman isn't afraid to make mistakes. She allows herself to make wrong choices, to take the wrong path. It's okay, she will always find her way back," he had added, looking her straight in the eyes. That bastard can't be for real, she'd thought.

The last... "incident" had occurred at the end of last season. It hadn't been easy, but she had managed to get time off, and she had joined Charles in Abu Dhabi for the last race of the season. Her boyfriend had finished fifth in the championship, and everyone : drivers, engineers, girlfriends, had ended up at the club to celebrate Max's victory.

She wasn't a fan of nightclubs. She was very migraine-prone, and the music, combined with the neon lights, didn't do well with her. Feeling the pain starting behind her eyes, she had signaled to Charles that she was going outside, and despite his insistence, she had convinced him to stay inside, wanting him to enjoy the evening. In the dark corridor leading outside, she had closed her eyes for a second. No more. Just to relieve the pain for a moment. And she had bumped into someone, of course.

The someone being Mister Sainz himself. Of course.

"I'm sorry," she'd said, still rubbing her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Just a migraine."

"Here," he'd said, leading her outside. "Let's get some calm."

She was surprised to see no one outside. Granted, it was already late, almost 4 a.m., and many people had left the club already. But still, she'd expected to see a few people. Smokers, at least...

"Charles fought well," Carlos had said, leaning against a wall.

"Yeah. He'll be champion one day."

"Of course," the Spaniard had say, grinning. "He'll have the cup." A pause. "And the girl."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she'd replied, pretending not to understand.

"Everything Charles wants, Charles gets."

She wasn't in the mood for this. Not tonight. Even if she found it hard to meet the Spaniard's gaze. Even if feeling his eyes on her made her shiver. Even if she could feel her lower abdomen tighten every time the driver's smooth voice reached her ears.

"Maybe everything Charles has, Charles fought for," she had replied.

"Oh yeah? Is that the secret?" Carlos had asked, coming closer.

"There's no secret."

"Do you want me to fight for you?" he had added, so close that she could feel his breath on her neck.

"You must have misunderstood," she'd said, finally meeting his gaze. "I'm talking about the championship."

Carlos had let out a laugh. An ironic, mocking laugh. Disappointed, almost. A laugh that meant "You and I understood each other perfectly well, but you won't dare go further". And she hadn't dared. Casting one last glance, she had gone back inside, leaving him alone under the stars of Baku.

She hadn't seen him since. Good riddance.

"I still can't believe it," Charles had said, yesterday night, taking a spoonful of his tiramisu. "At least, you won't be alone when I go golfing. I haven't seen much of Rebecca, but she seems very nice. I'm sure you two will get along well."

"So that's it? Our romantic vacation just turned into a friend's getaway?" she'd asked, almost offended.

"No, of course not. I'm sorry, mon coeur. We'll spend as much time together as possible, but... it could be nice to do a thing or two with them, right? I thought you loved Carlos."

The sentence had overwhelmed her with guilt.

"I like Carlos. I loved Isa, though," she'd answered, pouting, while Charles looked at her with soft eyes.

"Yeah, I know. But we have to come to terms with the fact that we won't see Isa again. Or, at least, not with Carlos." the driver had said, rising from his seat. "I'll pay, will you wait for me outside?"

Three days and three flights later, she's sitting at the hotel restaurant table, facing Carlos, wondering what Charles could have possibly misunderstood in her request a few days earlier. We'll spend as much time together as possible, yeah, right, she thinks, clearly annoyed.

"It's a pleasure to officially meet you, Rebecca," Charles says, giving the model a big smile. "Carlos must only have eyes for you, because I hear about you every other day."

She chokes on her drink. The whole table looks at her.

"Sorry," she says. "Ice cubes."

The conversation resumes, Rebecca proving to be very interesting. And apparently very much in love with Carlos, she thinks as she watches the blue-eyed blonde. She doesn't like the pinch she feels in her heart. She doesn't even want to put a name on it. It doesn't matter.

"I'm so happy that you’re here," Rebecca says after a while. "I can't wait to spend more time with you all," she finishes with a big smile.

"Yeah. Can't wait," Carlos says, turning his gaze away from Rebecca's eyes. Finding hers.

The following days pass without incident. Charles divides his day between the hotel pool, the golf course, and their bed, where they make love several times a day. If for some time she had the feeling that they were less close, everything seems forgotten under the Cuban sun.

One day, while she was riding Charles particularly loudly, the driver's hands digging into her hips in a deliciously painful way, someone had knocked on their bedroom door. Surprised, they had stopped suddenly, like teenagers caught red-handed, before Charles had jumped out of bed, grabbing a towel on the go.

"You're not actually going to open the door, are you?" she had asked, hidden under the sheets, with only her head out.

"You never know, what if it's urgent... Like... A fire?" her boyfriend had replied before opening the door.

It very obviously hadn't been urgent, and she had felt like dying of embarrassment when she'd seen Carlos's smug face on the other side of the door. He'd quickly glanced past Charles to look at her. Very obviously naked.

"Sorry to interrupt," he'd said, accent thick, licking his lips. "We had agreed to meet ten minutes ago to go play tennis."

"Did we? Oh my god, I'm sorry," Charles had said, closing the door behind him, running to the bathroom to change. Ten minutes later, both of them had left and she’d found herself alone in the room. Hot and bothered.

In the evening, to make up for leaving her alone all day, a very tanned Charles had invited her to a fancy restaurant in Havana, before taking her dancing. She had loved that night, so close together in the anonymity of the Cuban capital. She would have liked to prolong the festivities, to pick up where they had left off, but as soon as they'd returned to the room, Charles had laid down "for five minutes," and had been snoring ever since.

A faint knock echoes against the door of the room, and she gets up discreetly, careful not to wake Charles.

"You've got to be kidding me..." she starts, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Are you sleeping in front of our door or something?" she spits out, annoyed to find herself facing the Spaniard for the second time today.

"Charles forgot this," he says, handing her a towel. A towel with the hotel logo. What is she supposed to do with that? There are plenty of them in the closets. She stares at him intensely, arching a brow. Making no move to retrieve the towel.

"Can I come in?" he finally asks after a few seconds.

Without a word, she steps aside, revealing the room, and the bed where Charles is still snoring.

"Wow," Carlos says, walking into the room, laughing. "He's fucking knackered. I might have gone a bit hard on him this afternoon."

"What did you do?" she asks, clearly unamused.

"Nothing special. Made him run a bit." he replies, smirking. "I'm so sorry if you'd planned to finish what you'd started earlier," eyes boring into hers.

"You're a little shit," she says, disappearing into the bathroom.

She thought he would take the hint. Understand that his presence was no longer desired. In the bathroom, she takes off her earrings in front of the mirror, the door to the bedroom wide open, when the Spaniard appears behind her.

"Are you happy with him?" he asks, leaning against the door frame.

"What kind of fucked up question is that?" she snaps, turning to face him.

"A simple one," Carlos says, eyeing her intensely.

"What are you even doing here?" she asks, turning once again to grab her hairbrush from the countertop. "Shouldn't you be fucking your girl or something?"

Her hate-filled sentence makes him pause for a moment, seeking her gaze in the mirror. Faced with his silence, she lifts her head, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

"I had other plans," he states.

"Well, go fuck someone else then," she says, vehemently brushing her hair. She doesn't realize what she's said until the driver presses his chest against her back, gently pinning her against the countertop. She lets go of the brush, holding the surface with both hands, trying to regain composure. His mouth slides along her neck, making her whole body shiver. He's still watching her in the mirror as he gently bites her earlobe with his teeth.

"You're the nastiest person I've ever met," she says, letting a moan escape her lips as the driver slides his hands under her top.

"I've been dreaming of this for years," he says, running his fingers up along her stomach. "Morals be damned."

In the mirror, she casts a glance at Charles, still asleep on the bed. She can't do this. She's not like that. She's never cheated on any of her partners, let alone him. He doesn't deserve that, she thinks, closing her eyes as Carlos licks her neck.

"We can't do this to Charles," she says, panting. "To Rebecca."

"Rebecca will be gone by dawn if you ask," Carlos replies, gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"What about him?" she breathes, eyes sliding down his lips. "I can't do it, Carlos. I love him."

"Do you?" he asks, still holding her chin. "Say it one more time, and I swear I won't kiss you. I'll go back to my room and pretend nothing ever happened. We can even share breakfast in the morning, all four of us."

"I..." she stutters, closing her eyes.

"I'm about to do something incredibly reckless. I just need you to tell me if you're okay with it."

She doesn't reply. She just looks into his eyes, and crosses the distance between them. Their mouths collide violently, and both moan in unison, desperately clinging to each other. Her hands get lost in his hair, running along his scalp before pulling at the roots, eliciting a growl from him. He kisses her, biting her lips, encircling her face with his hands. His hands. His hands are everywhere. In her hair, on her back, on her butt. She feels like he's touching her everywhere at once, and his touch... His touch is burning, awakening things she's never felt. With anyone. She feels like molten lava. Like electricity.

He doesn't waste a second. He's too scared she'll snap out of it, change her mind. In one swift motion of the arm, he picks her up, sitting her down on the countertop, spreading her legs with his own body. His lips never leave her : he's exploring her neck, her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead, anything to get a taste of her.

He's afraid that he'll only have her that one time. That he'll have to live forever in the memory of that night. So he memorizes everything. The beauty mark at the corner of her mouth. The one on her neck. The fine white scar above her eyebrow. The tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the ones she earned through years of hearty laughter. He sniffs her, almost like an animal, absorbing her perfume until his head spins. He's so desperate, so pathetic for her, and he would probably be embarrassed by his own behavior if she weren't doing the same on her side. Her fingers trace every vein in his arms, every muscle in his back. She runs her tongue over his teeth, bites his lips, tugs at his hair as if she wanted to keep a lock of it in a necklace.

So far, they had just been kissing. Something she would have a very hard time justifying to Charles, but which could be ruled as a... distasteful accident. But as Carlos grabs her top, making her raise her arms in the air to take it off, immediately going for her breasts, she knows it's too late. That there will be no turning back. She's panting now, and over the shoulder of the Spaniard, as his mouth finds one of her nipples, she steals a glance at her boyfriend. Sound asleep. Unaware.

Carlos continues his descent, lower and lower, tracing a path with his tongue from her breasts to her belly button and down to her lower abdomen. Urgently, almost savagely, he tears off her floral skirt and her thong with both hands in one harsh movement, throwing them on the floor. He's been so impatient, so hurried all this time that when he finally kneels before her, her entire body tenses, bracing for impact.

But the impact doesn't happen.

Not yet. Carlos softly plants kisses on her pubic mound. On the insides of her thighs. On her knees. Anywhere but where she needs him the most.

"Please," she begs, breathless. "Please don't make me wait."

"I've been waiting for four years," he replies, looking at her through his long lashes, amber eyes diving into hers, "You'll survive a few more seconds."

When his mouth finally meets her core, she tilts her head back, moaning. He's slow. So deliberately slow. For years, she's driven him crazy, obsessing over every thought of hers. His revenge is childish. Immature. He's not proud of it, but he wants to drive her insane. To see her lose her mind because of him, just for once. She's having none of it, bucking her hips until his nose gets lost in her folds and finally, he snaps. Grabbing her by the ass, he brings her impossibly closer, lapping, nibbling, biting, even. Her back is pressed against the mirror, one leg over his shoulder, the other hanging down. She's closing her eyes, covering her mouth. Her moans. Praying that Charles hears nothing. Sees nothing.

With the tips of her toes, she finds his groin. Her touch is so soft. Barely there. His response is immediate, and she feels his growl reverberate through her entire core. Continuing his assault, his fingers join his mouth as he circles her clit before inserting one inside of her. Then two. He's watching her, somehow getting harder every time she moans, every time she tugs at his hair.

"I need you," she says between two breaths. "I don't know how much time we have, and I... I need to feel you inside."

He could have passed out right here, just hearing those words leave her lips. He rises, capturing her lips again, while she takes hold of his t-shirt, stripping it off. And then, they hug. Their skins are burning with desire, but there's nothing sexual here. For a few seconds, they stay like that, absolutely silent. Clinging to each other. The embrace tears them both apart. It's almost violent, suffocating, the way all those what's ifs, we could haves and others if only we'd knowns fill the room in those few seconds. The hug is heavy with things that'll never be. Things that'll never leave this embrace. This room. Feeling something wet reach his shoulder, Carlos pulls back. She's crying.

He seizes her lips again, yet this kiss feels so different from the previous ones. It's no longer a kiss of lust, of desire. It's a farewell kiss. He knows it. She knows it too.

Her hands crawl along his chest until they reach the button of his pants, which she pops open with a flick of expert fingers. He helps her remove the garment, which also falls to the ground, along with all the others. In this room, in this Cuban hotel, they are finally completely naked, pressed against each other. He kisses her again, intoxicated by her, her scent, her taste, while his hand finds his cock, stroking it gently. He's so lost in her, he almost doesn't notice her own hand chasing his, stroking him softly. And then, in a new kiss, he presses against her before entering her.

For a few moments, neither of them moves. He, concentrating like never before to not finish there and now. She, accepting the idea that another man than Charles has taken her, and that nothing will ever be the same again. Charles, she thinks, glancing towards the bedroom where her boyfriend has turned over, still asleep, but facing them. He's so close. So close to opening an eye and seeing his girlfriend and his teammate pressed against each other, forehead to forehead. Skin to skin. She's still looking at Charles when Carlos begins to move inside her, holding her tightly in his arms, pressing their chests together in an incredibly sensual motion.

"Tell me what you like. Tell me anything and I'll do it," he says, thrusting softly into her. "I want you to remember this. To remember me."

"I want you to make love to me as if I were yours."

It stings. It stings so fucking much, because the phrase reminds him that she doesn't belong to him. It stings because she's not entirely Charles' anymore, yet she'll never be entirely his either. From this night on, she'll be condemned to wander between them, to float between their desires, their loves. No matter how tightly he holds onto her, no matter how tight she feels around him, he'll never call her his. He obeys nevertheless, quickening his pace, capturing her lips.

His movements are precise, surgical. He feels her contracting around him, and the sensation drives him wild. Her hands are around his neck, seeking balance, support. His pace intensifies even more when he realizes something.

"Say my name," he asks, panting.

She knows why he asks for it, why he needs to hear it, so she doesn't question him.

"Carlos," she says, kissing him. "You're making me feel so good."

And it's true. In a way, it has nothing to do with his movements, with his skills as a lover. All those that he very surely possesses, but are only secondary tonight. It goes beyond that. It's about their connection. With each thrust, Carlos floods her with love, adoration, longing, with so many sensations that leave her feeling deliciously overwhelmed. He doesn't need to say it. Yet, in one thrust, one harsher than the others, he does.

"I love you", he breathes against her skin.

"I know," she says, holding his jaw with one hand, making him look at her, their lips brushing. "I've loved you all this time," she whispers back.

Her revelation must unlock something within him because suddenly, he lifts her, pressing her against the bathroom wall opposite from the sink, as she lets out a surprised cry, feeling him deeper than before. His thrusts resume, stronger, more aggressive. It's a good thing he's holding her as if his life depended on it, because everything is too much : the sensation of his body against hers, their feelings laid bare, the sounds he makes... Her head suddenly feels light, and she rests it in the crook of his neck as he continues to take her so deliciously.

She comes back to herself when she feels something stir in the pit of her stomach, something that takes her breath away.

"Carlos..." she starts.

"Tell me, baby," he replies, biting her ear. "Tell me everything."

"I'm feeling... I don't know... I'm feeling so, so good" she says, incoherent.

"Are you close?" he asks, still pouding into her.

"I've never felt anything like this," she says, panting. "Anything like you."

Then, everything explodes.

She can't hold back her scream, not caring about anything anymore, not even Charles, a few feet away. She's clinging to her lover, scratching his back. Trying to catch her breath. She clenches around him so tightly that he loses control, spilling into her in three thrusts, grunting.

"Give it to me, Carlos," she says. "I can take it. I can take you."

"Mi amor," he says, out of breath. "You're killing me," he adds, still thrusting into her, shooting some more ropes of cum into her cunt while groaning. "Te amo, te amo, te amo," he says, kissing her face.

The two bodies collapse on the floor, against the wall, nestled together in the intimacy of the small bathroom. She shivers, and he grabs a towel to wrap around her. Neither of them says a word. What is there to say, after all? Here, between these four tiled walls, they've already said everything. Shown everything. They've never been closer to each other. They've never been closer to anyone else. They'll probably never experience something like that ever again.

A few steps away from them, a sound of crumpled bedding alerts both of them.

"Babe?" comes Charles' sleepy voice, as their blood turn cold and she rises up impossibly fast to close the bathroom door, wobbling a bit, legs still weak after her orgasm.

"Go back to sleep, baby", she says loudly. "I'm just taking a shower."

There's no response, so after a few seconds, she opens the door again, seeing that Charles has fallen back asleep. Mouth slightly open.

"You have to go," she states, turning back to face Carlos, still sitting on the floor. Carlos stands up, and both of them dress in a heavy silence before quietly tip-toeing across the room. Once in the empty hallway, she gently closes the door of the room she shares with her boyfriend before letting out a breath. He knows what's coming. Something breaks in his eyes, and she feels her heart shatter.

"I meant everything," she says, head low. "I meant every word, every kiss. I'll forever regret the night we just shared, but not in the way you might think. I will regret for the rest of my life ever experimenting this happiness with you and having to let go of it. I love you, Carlos, like I've never loved anyone. That's why we shouldn't see each other again."

His dark eyes bore into hers, almost threateningly.

"Why?" he asks, raising his voice, and she winces, terrified that, on the other side of the door, Charles might wake up again. "Why stop yourself from being happy? Why give up on me?"

"I found a ring," she confesses, struggling to meet his gaze. "In his suitcase. He's going to propose to me, Carlos."

"If that's what it takes to have you forever, let me do it before him," he says, dropping to one knee as she looks away, tears welling up in her eyes. One more thing he'll have taken from Charles, she thinks. He'll forever be the first man to ever kneel before me. And he'll never even know this.

"Please, get up," she says, her voice trembling with a sob.

He does, and when he looks at her again, his eyes are filled with tears.

"Good night, Carlos," she says, taking a step back, holding the door knob to her room. She's gone in an instant, leaving him alone in the poorly lit hallway at half past three in the morning. Her scent all over his skin, her words all over his mind, her grip all over his heart.

[sreyaya]

Just One Night

Idol AU | Norton Campbell x F!Reader NSFW

Content warning: creampie, rough sex, sex for a favor, light latino Norton headcanon, dick describing, 2K words, MDNI

(A/n: my masterpiece, i'm so proud of this,,,I LOVE NORTON ARGH)

smut under the cut!

Ah yes, the infamous City Dome Concert, held only once every four years, making it one of the most prestigious events for upcoming and rising artists. As the saying goes, if you make it to the Dome, you'll be known. Everyone wanted to be there, including you, yourself.

Being the leader of a devoted band for so long has taken its toll on you. Endless nights spent songwriting and recording, vocal practices, and band meet-ups have become your daily routine, but oh well, it was all expected, you signed up for this and the Dome Concert is everything you need, the last step to your dreams, an important stepping stone before making it big. When your band landed at the top of the pending list, everything seemed to fall apart so suddenly.

And of course, as usual, Norton Campbell, one of the more globally famed band members, and his band stood at the top, just like at every event. It's not like they needed the Dome Concert anymore, you initially thought. With his pleasantly endearing face and fresh set of skills, he could go anywhere, even on the front page of your favorite monthly fashion magazine. It was truly unfair.

It was also unfair that the two of you happened to start at the same spot, same school, same class, being musical rivals for the lead roles. It always ended with you as the lead vocalist and him as the guitarist, but honestly, he just had to flourish more than you did, signing a contract with that stupid well-off idol company and branched out from there. Unfair, you thought again, slamming the magazine with his face on the cover onto the table.

With the upcoming Dome Concert, a preliminary briefing was held, inviting all members from both the approved and pending lists. This made you feel slightly salty, but who knows? Someone might give up their position for the concert tonight, you slightly hoping someone will. With Flashing cameras, paparazzi, and screaming fans waited outside right in front of the hall entrance, Norton's wave of voices being the loudest among them. Clicking your tongue in response, you headed in with the rest of your band members, dispersing once inside the eminent party.

You reached for a glass of white wine, savoring its flavor, refreshing taste as you took frequent sips. Above you, the crystal chandeliers glistened, casting a warm, elegant glow over the room. The venue was blessed like a grand banquet hall, with luxurious decorations and lavish details. You wore your favorite bodycon dress, its design perfectly incinuating your figure and revealing your striking back. Every aspect of the evening, from the wine to your attire, conveying your refined taste and style.

In the midst of the crowd, the laughs and chats of other artists or celebrities, Campbell stood out, already eyeing you with a glass of red wine in hand, a sharp contrast towards your own preference for white. His approach was slow and unhurried, each and every step of his was intended on his black-leather loafers, his well-tailored suit impeccably matched to your elegant garment.

"Why, hello," he chimed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Someone didn't make it to the Dome again this year~", he continued, his grin widening with each word. The tone was all too familiar, one you had come to despise over the years you spent with him.

"Well, I worked my way up here. I can wait for next time," you huffed, a sullen look crossing your face as you placed your glass down with a bit more force than intended.

"Tell you what, I'll give you my spot," he said lightly, another grin following his words. You knew him too well, he wouldn’t give up such a coveted position without wanting something in return.

"What are you implying, Campbell?" Your tone sharpened, suspicion and annoyance mixed in your words as you stared him down, cautious of any tricks up his sleves.

"One night," he said, holding up one finger in front of your face, "One night with me, hermosa."

The world around you seemed to fade away, the noise of the crowd becoming distant. His proposition wasn’t anything new, he had done this a couple of times to you but he never forced you into it, and you weren’t inexperienced either. But Norton? Your childhood friend? It felt strange, but not wrong, the gears in your mind turned rapidly. You needed this position, and he wasn’t the worst anyways.

As you weighed his proposal, your thoughts raced back to your shared history. Norton had always been the golden boy, effortlessly charming and talented, while you had fought for every bit of recognition. His flirtatious remarks, though frequent, had never carried this much weight before. He watched you intently, waiting for your response. The stakes were high, and he knew it. The opportunity to perform at the Dome was a dream, a career-defining moment. Could you set aside your pride, for one night?

Norton leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Think about it. This could be your only chance."

You took a deep breath, your resolve hardening. "Alright, Norton. One night. And i'll get your spot? How can i trust you on this?"

A triumphant smile spread across his face. "Here~" he said, a small envelope, filled with the official invitation inside, to the Dome.

And as promised, that night, you found yourself walking into the mentioned five-star hotel, clutching the keycard Norton had slipped into your hand before disappearing into the crowd. Damn it, Norton, you cursed silently, taking a deep breath before heading inside. As you approached his door, you hesitated, your heart pounding, opening the door there stood Norton in a bathrobe, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"Welcome," he said, opening the door fully and gesturing for you to enter his private room. The room was offly neat, different from the boy you grew up with, who never bothered to pick up his laundry or tidy his space, it was trully a surprising improvement.

Without further idle chatter, Norton gently grabbed your chin, leaning in for a kiss by the room door, his eyes searching yours for permission as you responded by pushing your head slightly forward, meeting his lips.

As you kissed, you couldn't help but wonder if this was all about that sudden deal or what you had wanted all along. Why'd you reply to the kiss so soon? Your train of thought was soon stopped as he lifted you effortlessly, his hands gripping your thighs as your legs wrapped around his waist. The kiss deepened, the scent of your shampoo filling his senses, making everything feel hazy.

He carried you to the king-sized bed, laying you down gently. Continuing the kiss, each one was long and deep, filled with unspoken desires. "I've been waiting for you, cariño," he muttered between kisses, his hands roaming over your body, removing your garments one by one.

"Looks like someone's more prepared than I thought," he remarked, eyeing your matching set of black lingerie, his favorite color. Maybe, subconsciously, you DID want this too.

"Ah, cariño, you're going to be the end of me," he gasped out as he removed the last pieces of your clothing, revealing your body to him. Your plump breasts, with blushed nipples bouncing as it grasped away from your upper undergarment, and your soft thighs, meticulously cared for, seemed to drive him insane each following second.

Norton had anticipated this more than you realized. Ever since your debut, he had attended every one of your concerts, silently watching from the VIP row, watching you grow each time. You had never noticed him, but he had always wanted you, waiting patiently for this moment. Now, with you finally in his grasp, he was determined to make you his.

"I would do foreplay, but you just look so captivating in front of me, mami. Let's skip it, shall we?" Norton suggested, his voice thick with lust.

Heat rose to your core as he pulled down his boxers, his member growing at the sight of your naked body. Norton was... well-endowed, his length and girth impressive, veins prominent along the shaft, the tip flushing a deep maroon, not forgetting how well-groomed he is, making him even more irresistible.

Seeing your state, he moved closer, placing both palms on your knees. "Open your legs for me, baby," he murmured, kissing each of your kneecaps tenderly. You surrendered immediately, your tense muscles relaxing as you spread your legs for him. Both his dominance and gentleness was overwhelming for your heart, messing with your thoughts and making you more eager for what was to come.

As Norton positioned himself between your legs, tension crept back in regardless of how experiened you were. The reality of the situation made you anxious by the second, nerve-wrecked. Fucking your childhood friend? But as Norton leaned in for another kiss, you decided to let go of your doubts and bask in the moment, forgetting all about your worries.

He pushed his girth in, feeling every gushy wall of yours warmly wrapped around him. His erection stretched your tight walls, making you bubble up a moan ever so loudly, it was music to his ears. Everything was a haze for him, overstimulation taking over. It didn’t take long before he started moving, your ass slapping against his pelvis, releasing lewd noises that filled you up.

Norton couldn't take his eyes off you. He was impatient, desperate for you. "Tighter—fuck, you're so amazing. You feel amazing," he whimpered out while fucking you senseless. Norton didn’t want to take this one night for granted and used it all to its fullest, pouring his heart into every thrust. Your pussy clamped down on his length, making him shudder each time he pulled it out and slammed back in, his heavy balls slapped against your puffy folds.

"Ay, I'm so crazy for you, corazón," he gasped as you rode him, your breasts bouncing in front of his eyes, you could even feel his member growing even bigger inside you. The air was thick with moans and groans. His hands were firm on your hips, occasionally swaying them outwards and pulling them back in. Your hands caressed his abs, feeling the every chiseled ones as you bounced on his cock. Just how many times have you came tonight?

As the clock had finally hit 3 o'clock, the two of you were in the bathroom, telling yourself it's "cleanup time" but you both ended up asking for more, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he pushed himself in deeper than before. Norton loves to mutter small compliments, mesmerized by how beautiful you looked under him. Your throat was dry from the sounds you’d made all night, and your legs weakened with each passing second.

Everything soon came to an end, the mixture of your juices dripping down from your pussy, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead, making him just more attractive each passing second. He plunged in one last thrust, trying to pull out to release outside. But you, being the cheeky woman that you are, locked your legs around his hips, pushing him back in with the last of your energy. Norton couldn't hold himself back, the tight knot around his abdomen soon all came lose as he released deep inside you. His warm semen smearing all over your puffy walls as he can finally pull out.

"Cheeky much, you're gonna pay for that," he muttered with a giggle soon following. Planting a light kiss on your forehead before lifting you into the bathtub. The water was cold from when you both had left them, but the moment was enough to melt your heart. Was it really about the deal, or was it the unnoticed feelings you had for your childhood friend all these passing years?

Norton carefully cleaned every part of your body, constantly asking if anything hurt. You could only laughed, charmed by his caring side.

"I love you, mi vida."

The whole world seemed to stop for both of you. The water suddenly stilled down, and the dim bathroom lights cast a soft glow on the scene. Your heartbeat quickened, and you swore he could hear it too. He was cradling you from behind, his head resting on your shoulder as he whispered those words out.

"Be mine? Por favor?"

[steddieasitgoes]

made in the a.m.

this was written purely to celebrate the wonderful @henderdads birthday! And okay, maybe also to push the Steddie as boy dads agenda! Hope you enjoy it Cass! wc: 2.2K+ | rated: T Read on ao3

Steve’s an early riser — always has been and probably always will be at the rate he’s going. It’s not that he likes getting up before the sun starts to rise, but he’s never been able to shake the habit engrained in him since he was a kid. He’s learned to embrace it over the years — allowing himself to savor the quiet moments where he can just be before ultimately dragging himself out of bed to go for a morning run. 

Eddie on the other hand is not an earlier riser — never has been and never will be if the last decade and a half together have taught Steve anything. In fact, if Steve doesn’t wake him up in the mornings after he’s finished his own morning routine, he knows Eddie would happily sleep until one or two in the afternoon. 

And yet, when Steve sleepily blinks himself awake at the ungodly, even for him, 4 am hour and rolls over on his side, he finds Eddie’s side of the bed is empty. Stretching his hand out, he runs his palm against the sheets expecting it to be radiating with Eddie’s warmth but they’re cool to the touch. Too cool for Steve’s liking. 

Not wanting to send the world spinning, Steve slowly pushes himself up into a seated position and gives his eyes a minute to adjust to the pitch-dark room. When he’s certain he’s not going to launch himself into another vertigo episode, he looks towards their ensuite bathroom. 

The bathroom is pitch black too which doesn’t really mean anything. Eddie has a bad habit of peeing in the dark in the middle of the night. A habit Steve hates with every fiber of his being because of the mess he often wakes up to. Eddie’s aim is shit when he’s tired and it’s even worse when he’s tired and can’t see. It doesn’t matter that the toilet hasn’t moved in the nearly two decades they’ve lived in the house, Eddie still manages to miss. 

Steve keeps his eyes glued on the open door, patiently waiting for his husband, in his eyes, not the law, to return to bed. A second turns into a minute which turns into two and Steve can feel the anxiety start to set deep in his bones as he realizes that Eddie’s not in the bathroom. 

The sudden spike in anxiety knocks Steve out of his sleepy, slightly delirious state and straight into full consciousness. He doesn’t jump out of bed and reach for the bat like he still keeps tucked safely under their bed — a product of years of therapy and some healthy compromising on his therapist’s part — and instead keys into his other senses, hoping they’ll help him find Eddie without sending himself into full-on panic mode. 

It takes a minute for his ears to adjust to their natural white noise, but then he hears it. A cacophony of distant noise. The clattering of pots and pans, the muffled laughter of their four-and-a-half-year-old son, Eddie’s own slightly too loud whispered voice. 

Steve glances at the clock again to make sure he read it right a few moments ago and yep, it’s now 4:13 in the morning. Far too early for anyone to be awake, even Steve, let alone be goofing around in the kitchen. He knows Jackson’s been having trouble sleeping lately — the dreaded night terrors have taken a toll on his little body, but Steve also knows that Eddie would have waken him if he managed to sleep through Jackson’s crying. So it’s not that. 

It could be that Jackson wandered into their bedroom looking for a snack and Eddie, never one to turn down a late-night snack or two, entertained the idea and carried him down the stairs and into the kitchen. But a late-night snack doesn’t involve pots and pans, at least not in Steve’s eyes which means he’s back and square one wondering what on Earth his boys are doing at such an early hour. 

Just as he’s about to get out of bed and investigate for himself, it clicks. He glances over at the fancy clock on his nightstand that confirms the date. February 26th. Eddie and Jackson aren’t in the kitchen at 4:25 in the morning for themselves, they’re in the kitchen for him. Because today’s Steve’s birthday. 

Steve doesn’t need more confirmation, but it comes anyway in the strong whiff of bacon that makes its way into his room. His stomach growls and his mouth practically salivate at the thought of fresh, crispy, hot bacon but he doesn’t pull himself out of bed. He’s supposed to be sleeping still — a fact he knows Eddie is banking on given the loud shush that leaves his lips when Jackson lets out a pretty hearty laugh for a four-and-a-half-year-old. 

It’s hard to fall back asleep when he knows that chaos is unfolding in his kitchen and the fact that his internal alarm clock will be waking him up in half an hour anyway, so he doesn’t drift back to sleep, but he does sink back into the mattress and let himself rest. 

He supposes he could turn on the television and fall victim to those silly infomercials that used to be his lullaby when he was a twentysomething-year-old still dealing with the aftermath of everything they’d gone through in Hawkins, but he doesn’t want to ruin Eddie and Jackson’s fun by letting them know he’s been awake this whole time, so he lays in bed trying his best not to wonder what is going on downstairs. 

It’s harder than it looks, though, especially when the bacon smell gets overpowered by the sharp aroma of something burning and Eddie lets out a slew of colorful curses that Jackson will no doubt be repeating at some point in the week, but Steve manages to stay put.

Just as the sun is starting to rise, sunlight forcing its way through the slots of their blinds painting their bedroom in the softest yellow light Steve’s maybe ever seen, he hears footsteps making their way up the stairs. 

He shuts his eyes quickly and sinks his head further into his soft pillow. When the door creaks open, he lets out a few, albeit slightly dramatic snore noises, to really seal the deal. Judging by Jackson’s soft giggles, it works. 

“Daddy!” Jackson whispers yells from the side of his bed. “S’your birthday! Wake up!” 

Keeping up the theatrics he’s learned from Eddie over the years, Steve makes a show of slowly opening his eyes. The soft smile that pulls the corners of his lips isn’t fake, though. No, that’s as genuine as it can be as he takes in the sight of Jackson. He’s in the same dinosaur pajamas he helped him into last night, hair still a mess of curls, and eyes slightly droopy as the early hour starts to set in but his smile is what really does it for Steve. That gap-tooth, gummy smile that has Steve reaching over and hosting Jackson up in a matter of seconds. 

“It is my birthday? I thought that was tomorrow,” Steve teases. 

“No,” Jackson giggles violently shaking his head. “S’today! S’why daddy and I made you breakfast. See!” 

Jackson throws his entire arm in the direction of Eddie and Steve follows it before biting the inside of his cheek to keep his lay at bay. If Jackson is a tired mess, Eddie is exhaustion personified. His own curls are just as unruly, never calming with age. His threadbare shirt has a grease stain smack dab in the middle and his pants are slung very low on his hips, threatening to fall any second now if he doesn’t pass Steve the tray and hike them back up where they belong. And the bags under his eyes have bags of their own, but none of that distracts Steve from Eddie’s own megawatt smile. 

“Not just any breakfast, Jackson,” Eddie says, taking a careful step forward so he doesn’t trip over his pants and send their hard work flying. “Breakfast in bed.” 

“Daddy says that’s the most special kind of breakfast,” Jackson nods. 

“It is,” Steve confirms before scooping Jackson into his arms again. He kisses the top of his head before gently setting him down beside him, clearing his lap for the tray that Eddie wastes no time setting in front of him. “Wow! This looks delicious!” 

Steve catches the way Eddie bites his lip to keep his own laughter at bay. There’s an impressive spread on the plates in front of him, but delicious might be pushing it. The toast is burnt to a crisp, it’s a miracle it hasn’t disintegrated yet. The bacon is unevenly cooked, crispy on one side and fatty, and soft on the other. The yokes in his sunny side eggs definitely cracked during the cooking process and the hashbrowns are definitely still thawing from their time in the freezer but Steve doesn’t care. Not in the slightest. 

To prove it, he picks up a piece of bacon and happily chomps away, complimenting both of them on their skills in the kitchen. Jackson cheers gleefully, stealing a piece for himself as Eddie joins them on the bed, sandwiching Jackson between them, before swiping an oddly sliced bit of a banana. 

“Daddy burnt the toast,” Jackson says, watching with furrowed eyes as Steve tries to drag butter over the chared bread. 

“Hey,” Eddie whines, playfully nudging Jackson. “You said you weren’t going to tell him!” 

“S’hard not to tell him,” Jackson giggles. “It’s pretty dark.” 

“That’s okay,” Steve says, smiling as he carefully lifts the bread to his lips. “I like my toast dark.” 

Jackson wrinkles his nose as Steve takes a big bite that he instantly regrets. Still, he manages to chew and swallow it, chasing the dry and very burnt piece of toast with a big gulp of orange juice. 

Eddie sticks his tongue out, before lunging toward him, “Tickle Monster!” Jackson squeals, trying his best to scoot away from Eddie but Steve blocks him. The cup of orange juice nearly topples over in the process, but Steve doesn’t mind a bit of a mess as long as Jackson’s having fun. And judging by his laughing as Eddie tickles him mercilessly, he’s having tons of fun. 

“No fair! It’s my birthday, I want to be the Tickle Monster,” Steve says, a playful pout pulling at his lips. 

“There can never be too many Tickle Monsters,” Eddie says, moving his hands so his tickling efforts are focused on one side of Jackson’s belly. 

Steve carefully sets the mostly empty tray on the floor beside the bed before lunging at Jackson, joining in on the fun. Jackson’s laughs are loud and infectious, causing both Steve and Eddie to break out into giggles of their own as they watch him squirm beneath them. They keep it up until Jackson tells them to stop, respecting his wishes even when they’re playing like this. 

Once he calms down and catches his breath, he snuggles up between them again. It’s only a matter of seconds before his eyes flutter shut and his breathing evens out.

“I can’t believe you woke up so early just to make me breakfast,” Steve says, glancing at the clock. It’s twenty minutes passed Steve’s usual wake-up time now. Usually, he’d be out of bed, dressed, and working on tying his laces for his daily run, but there’s no way he’s moving right now. Not with a full belly and the warmth of his boys next to him. 

“Neither can I,” Eddie yawns, before smiling softly at Steve. “But it was worth it.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, without any hesitation. “S’the least we could do. You’re always making our birthdays special figured it’s time we returned the favor.” 

“You always make my birthdays special,” Steve teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Might have to put a rain check on that gift this year,” Eddie teases. Steve playfully scoffs and reaches over a sleeping Jackson to nudge his shoulder. “Hey, it’s your fault I’m so tired! If you woke up at a normal hour, we wouldn’t have had to wake up so damn early to surprise you!” 

“You could have had breakfast waiting for me after I finished my run.” 

“Didn’t you hear Jackson? It’s the breakfast in bed part that makes it special.” 

“I’m just teasing,” Steve says, leaning over Jackson to steal a kiss from Eddie. It’s short and sweet, their questionable breakfast and morning breath lingering on their lips, but it’s the first kiss Steve’s ever gotten as a 36-year-old and that’s what really makes it special. 

“I know,” Eddie says, yawning again. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Steve says, letting his own body sink back into the warmth of the mattress. 

“You’re not getting up yet?” 

“I think I’ll stay here a little longer. Cuddle my boys,” Steve says, reaching his arm out across Jackson’s small body and towards Eddie’s awaiting hand. Their fingers curl around each other instantly. “Who knows, maybe at 36 I’ll finally learn to sleep in.” 

“Jesus H. Christ I hope so!” 

Steve can’t help but laugh and doesn’t even bother muffling it into the pillow because Jackson is just as deep of a sleeper as Eddie is. 

“Get some sleep, Eds.” 

“Happy birthday, Stevie,” Eddie whispers, practically slurring as sleep comes for him. 

True to his word, Steve stays in bed. He listens to Eddie and Jackson’s soft snores and watches their bodies rise and fall with each steady breath they take. He soaks it all in. The quiet stillness with his boys, the warmth radiating from them, and the love he feels so deep in his bones. It’s perfect. The best birthday morning he’s ever had. 

[mamayan]

YAN MY BABYGURL CONGRATA ON YOUR MILESTONE!

I am here to give my try for your Russian Roulette. Can be nsfw or not (your decision and how you feel like 💋)

9, 37, 46, 61 either with Kyojuro or Kokushibo ❤️

BANG! … no bullet was shot—

Kokushibo

“Let me hold you?” || Sleep || Tangled hair || Soulmates

tw: Suggestive • NSFW • Suggestive Angst

wc: 618

“Please…”

He should kill you.

“Let me hold you?”

If he allows this to continue any longer, you’ll surely infect his mind further. You, an enchantment no doubt, have haunted him for months with that sweet scent and earnest gaze. A weak creature not meant for the night like he, yet you so kindly embrace him despite his monstrous appearance and wicked deeds. His desire for strength and achievement shudders beneath your fingers.

He should kill you.

You who sleepily wraps your arms around his neck as he lowers himself over you, brushing his lips against your own while you invite him into your bed again. You should know better, he has warned you many times in the past. You aren’t very obedient, but he hardly cares when you part your lips for him to taste you. His kiss is sensual, slower and gentler than usual. He’s savoring you, the feeling of you close to him while his blackened soul writhes against the clean half you possess. Your soft figure beneath him is the most right he’s ever felt in over four hundred years and he knows you are his own personal punishment for his sins against humanity. You don’t listen when he tells you to run, but you open up so willingly when he slots himself between your thighs. His hands greedily tracing your figure, squeezing you almost painfully as he assures himself once more you are real and not a figment of his lonely mind.

He should kill you.

Except his mind goes blank as he sheathes himself inside you, your body warm and welcoming for him as you mewl in pleasure. Your tight entrance is wet enough he hardly needs any force to sink to your deepest parts. He loses the fight immediately, succumbing to your eyes devoid of anything but complete adoration and acceptance. He loses the battle when you moan his name and beg for more, “Michikatsu, harder please—.” A great warrior crumbling before a mere human, seduced and destroyed.

His hand wraps around your delicate throat, other arm braced to lean himself over you so he can watch. All six eyes he detests normally but feels grateful for now trained on you, watching every little reaction as he softly holds you down while his hips work to throw you into ecstasy. The way your eyes water but never leave his face, lips parted and gasping for breath his cock keeps stealing from you, he watches in fascination and anxiety.

He could kill you.

You wouldn’t even resent him. So much unfathomable understanding in your eyes, it’s a wonder you still hold the compassion that you do. The trust you place in him, a demon no one could love, yet you do the unthinkable effortlessly.

“Michikatsu, I’m—,” he can feel your body tightening, trembling below.

“I know.” He loses himself again, in your pleasure and softness, in your arms which hold him gently. His hair spills, tickling your neck as he lets his canines lightly graze over the sensitive skin where your pulse races. “Go ahead, break for me.” His guttural tone is all you need to fall apart, clinging to him tightly as he finds release inside of you too. Your name on his lips as he loses again.

He should kill you...

Your hands tangle in his hair, sweaty skin making you glow in the low candle light. “I love you,” it’s nearly inaudible but he hears it. Your smile is more radiant than the sun he can not bask in.

He should kill you… before you make him forsake his own immortality to die with you.

You’re asleep before he whispers the words aloud.

“I love you too…”

post dividers/@cafekitsune

[hysel-e]

☀️ A Vacation to Remember ☀️

"Last year, I wanted to invite you to the beach, but you immediately shot me down without even hearing me out,” you said, pretending to wipe away imaginary tears. “You wounded me, you know. Oh, how times have changed.”

“I had better things to do than to spend my summer break with you,” Orter deadpanned, adjusting his glasses as he spoke.

“So you were just shy. I get it. Since you agreed to go this time, I'll take that as a sign we’re growing closer~”

“Do not put words into my mouth.”

You, Orter, and Alex were currently at the beach for summer break. It took a lot of convincing from both you and Alex before Orter finally agreed to be abducted to the beach.

However, while you and Alex were playing in the ocean, a certain four-eyes was seated in the shade, reading a book.

Noticing this transgression, you made your way over to him. "Why are you reading at the beach? Your habit of overreading is precisely the reason why your eyes turn into 3s when you take your glasses off,” you remarked, casting a playful glance at him.

Before Orter could respond to your cheeky remark, Alex approached with something in his hand. “I brought a slaughtermelon!"

"Why would you bring that here?" Orter asked, a trace of revulsion colored his face.

"It's times like these when you gotta smash melons, dummy!" Alex exclaimed enthusiastically.

"'Tis the season," you concurred, eyeing Orter mischievously.

"Speaking of smashing melons... Orter's pretty hard-headed. We could smash the slaughtermelon onto his head,” you suggested, half-jokingly. “I doubt he would sustain any brain damage due to that skull of his.”

Immediately following your words, you were pulled into the sand, finding yourself eye-level with Orter's feet. You had forgotten that you were currently in his natural territory.

“Did I lie, though?”

As night descended, you found Orter by the shore, his nose buried in a book as usual.

Approaching with a playful smile, you asked, “Mind if I join you?”

Without lifting his gaze from the pages, he replied, “What’s the point of asking? You’d do so regardless.”

“You’re so right, Orter. I can’t believe you know me so well,” you chuckled, earning a slight “tsk” from him.

“So, what brings you out here at this hour while Alex is fast asleep?” you inquired, settling down beside him.

Orter, as dry as ever, responded, “I went out to get away from you, but it appears that plan failed."

Without skipping a beat, you flashed a wide grin. “Then I’ll have no choice but to make you enjoy my company~”

At this point, he had completely abandoned any hope of reading in peace.

“What makes you think I want that?” Orter glanced your way, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"I mean, who wouldn't want someone as charming as myself for company?" you remarked confidently, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Knowing that arguing with you was only a waste of time and breath, he let out an exasperated sigh and resigned himself to your presence, listening to your ramblings while gazing at the scenery.

It was a night of the full moon, the sky adorned with countless stars.

They say that the company you keep can enhance moments like these...

Though Orter was not one to appreciate the natural beauty of the night, the scene tonight was particularly alluring.

At some point, you fell silent. Resting your head on your knees, you watched as Orter absorbed the view before him with his usual expressionless face. His presence alone had a way of making your heart skip a beat.

Opportunities to silently enjoy his company like this were rare, so you were savoring every second.

The scene of the ocean and sky illuminated by the full moon was breathtaking, and yet… you found the concentric rings in his eyes far more captivating.

“Quit staring,” his voice interrupted your trance.

“Oh, was I..? Maybe because the person I’m looking at is too mesmerizing to avert my eyes,” you teased.

Your comeback left him momentarily at a loss for words. Never before had he had to deal with anyone this... brazen. “You and your jokes. Your shamelessness knows no bounds, does it?” he said, adjusting his glasses.

"Yep. Since you already know how shameless I am, I'd like to take a picture of you; it'll last longer," you replied with a wink.

"A camera would be required for that," he remarked dryly.

"Don't underestimate me. I come prepared for every situation," you said, producing a camera out of thin air.

"Let's take one together," you suggested, closing the distance between you.

Orter didn't mind the proximity, per se, but it was the sudden closeness that flustered him. “Fine,” he relented, “but just one photo.”

With a click, the picture was captured.

The photo was a success. "It's perfect! I'll make sure to cherish this picture forever," you giggled, filled with genuine delight.

Turning to Orter, you added with a grin, "Oh, and just for the record, I'm only this shameless when it comes to you."

Orter averted his gaze, his ears tinged with red. "Hand me a copy. I need to make sure you didn't make me look foolish."

As you handed him a copy, you noticed a subtle softening in his eyes. “You don't look silly at all. It’s impossible to make you look silly. The camera likes you just as much as I do,” you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

“I suppose it’s an acceptable photograph,” he reluctantly admitted, as he carefully placed the photo into his book, marking the page he had been reading.

In that moment, you felt grateful for the scenery that lay before your eyes, for the cool ocean breeze that caressed your skin, for his presence that comforted your very soul, and you hoped Orter felt the same way too.

With softened eyes and heartfelt sincerity, you expressed, “I’m truly glad, Orter, that you’re part of this photograph and this precious memory of mine...”

[babyblue711]

Devotion

Osferth (The Last Kingdom) x Reader - Part 3 (Final) Read Part 2 Here Chapter Summary: Before the men head off to war yet again, Osferth and Reader share a romantic night to themselves. Words: 5.9K

Chapter Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Smut, Loss of Virginity, Fingering and overall shenanigans

A/N: Word of the wise - Osferth takes his time with his sweet little virgin. Strap in for the long haul kiddos 🔥

💙 Beta read by the wonderful: @sylasthegrim

💙 Beautiful gif by the one and only: @myfandomprompts

In the aftermath of the battle, you and Osferth take Finan’s horse in search of your brother and sister. The tension in the air is palpable as you scour the forest, calling their names, hoping to find them unharmed. After what feels like an eternity, you stumble upon a small clearing deep in the woods and discover them safe and sound.

Your sister sobs the whole way home, overwhelmed by the terrifying ordeal and you gather her in your arms, whispering reassurances in her ear as she rides in front of you in the saddle on Osferth’s white horse. Your brother sits stoically in front of Osferth, a vision of bravery for getting his sister to safety. Even though you are exhausted and weary from battle, you finally feel complete as the four of you make your way back home.

The atmosphere in Rumcofa is somber and heavy with grief. The massacre of innocent Danes has shaken the town to its core, and a sense of fear and uncertainty hangs in the air. The place that once felt like home, a sanctuary, no longer seems safe. Worry grips your heart; you are unsure how long Uhtred and his men will call this town “home” and you feel safest being wherever they are. The uncertainty makes you feel insecure about your immediate future.

A few days go by and Lord Athelhelm’s evil plot finally starts to unravel. Osferth and Finan rush to Uhtred’s side as the Saxon and Dane armies converge to straighten out the misunderstanding that had pitted them against one another in the first place. It had not been Danes that had killed Lord Athelhelm’s daughter like he wanted everyone to believe but rather his own scheme gone awry; she sacrificed herself to save the visionary he had intended to kill in order to sow discord between Saxon and Dane. But in the chaos of the battle that followed, he escaped to Bebbanburg. 

The men briefly return to Rumcofa, mainly to gather their remaining strength before marching on Bebbanburg to bring Lord Athelhelm to justice. You know Uhtred has longed to liberate Bebbanburg from his cousin, Lord Wihtgar, for many years and with the King’s assistance he is finally getting the chance to reclaim his birthright. 

Will it ever stop? you wonder to yourself as you help Ingrith prepare dinner for them that evening. Will war ever stop for these men? All you wanted was peace and for them all to be safe at home in the arms of their loved ones and families. 

Upon their arrival back home, Osferth had officially asked Lord Uhtred for your hand in courtship and Uhtred, as wise as ever, had smiled and said, “I will leave that for the lady to decide.” Of course, you had happily accepted, finally being able to declare your love for each other and be an official couple, filling a void that had been in your hearts for a long time. You can tell Osferth feels the same. 

The evening before their departure to Bebbanburg is bittersweet. Knowing that Osferth will be leaving on the morrow for battle once more, you've resolved to savor this precious evening with him, cherishing the moments you have together. Curled on the gray fur blanket next to the fire crackling merrily in the hearth, you listen intently as he reads verses of The Holy Book to you. 

You watch him read, admiring the sharp shadows on his face from the firelight. Your eyes trace the length of his nose and the shape of his strong jaw and chin; he licks his thumb to turn a page, reading aloud all the while, oblivious to your adoring gaze, and you suddenly feel something stir deep within when you see his pink tongue dart from between his lips. 

You crawl over to him on the fur rug, and gently place your hand on top of the page, causing him to stop at your distraction. He looks up at you questioningly. 

“Perhaps that’s enough reading for tonight?” you ask lightly, giving him a sweet smile.

“Of course, my lady,” Osferth marks his page and closes the book, stretching to put it on a nearby table. He returns his attention to you.

“Well, we have the night to ourselves, what would you like to do next?” he asks you innocently with bright eyes. Both of your siblings are staying at Astrid’s tonight. She promised them lots of fun and games, a needed reprieve for the children after a hard couple of weeks, while giving you a knowing wink. 

“I think I have something in mind,” you try to say in your best sultry voice, feeling more confident than you really are. You reach out and grab Osferth by the collar, bringing his lips to your own. He immediately understands your intentions and, after a moment, gently pulls back.

“My lady, please, there is no rush…,” he starts to say but you stop him by putting a finger to his lips.

“Please, Osferth?” you ask, eyes wide, begging him with your gaze. “Truly, I want you…before you have to leave again.”

He sighs and considers you, torn by his feelings and sense of responsibility. “I want you too,” he confesses with longing in his voice. “I have wanted you for a very long time, but I would never pressure you. There will be plenty of time for that.”

“Will there be?” you question sharply, “Nobody knows what the future holds, Osferth, not even the gods. Mine or yours.” 

He takes a deep breath, leveling you with a steady stare and you feel compelled to confess to him.

“Osferth, I… I have not been with anyone else in that way,” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper. “Please, I am yours.” 

You see his breathing pick up as the weight of your words settle upon him, his eyes searching yours. 

“You are still a maiden?” He swallows as you nod, confirming what he had suspected but didn’t know for certain. He blinks rapidly as he absorbs your words. 

“My lady…what you offer me, you can only offer once. You cannot take it back once it is done. I am honored, but are you sure?” 

You nod, having never been more sure about anything in your life. “Osferth, you have held a treasured place in my heart since I was a girl. I cherish you above everyone else,” you pause to take a deep breath, laying your emotions bare, “Please….I belong to you and have for a long time.” 

His face softens with affection at the sincerity of your words, warmth seeping out of his blue eyes and he responds with a confession of his own.

“And my heart belongs to you, for longer than you know,” he says softly, surprising you by the duration of his affection and depth of his devotion. His words flow freely now, as if he has been waiting for this moment. “I have watched you struggle and bear the weight of womanhood long before your years. You have always triumphed in anything you set your mind to. I admire you more than you know and have for a long time.” 

He leans towards you, gently cupping the side of your face with his hand, his thumb tracing your cheekbone and the faint scar left behind from Bresal’s blade. Your heartbeat picks up wildly as you stare with adoration into each other’s eyes. He rests his forehead against yours and you breathe each other in; time seems to stand still as you share this intimate moment together, lost in the confessions of love. 

You lose track of how much time has passed, deciding to prompt him further by leaning up and whispering against his lips, “Please, allow me to truly be yours.”

Whether from your words or actions, you finally seem to break his resolve as he returns your kiss, his mouth opening under yours. 

“I promise to be gentle,” he breathes, finally verbally acquiescing before resuming your kiss. For a moment, you enjoy languidly the taste of each other’s tongues as he pulls you into his lap, straddling him, and you immediately run your fingers through his hair, kissing deeply.

Your heartbeat picks up in this new position, never having been so intimately wrapped around a man before; it is all so new to you. Although you have imagined this scenario for so long, it seems to have come upon you so suddenly. You realize you felt braver going into battle than you do at this moment, intertwined around Osferth. 

You spend some time exploring each other’s mouths, moaning lightly as he shifts his position, bringing you down to lay under him on top of the furs. He hovers above you, using his arms to support his weight as you spread your legs to allow him to settle within the cradle of your hips. 

His smell surrounds you as he continues kissing you for a while more, taking his time. Decidedly more impatient than he is, you reach for the cinch of his alb, eager to undress him. He allows you to untie it, and then removes it with your help, left only in his breeches. He lowers himself back onto you, and you can feel the heat radiate from his bare torso through your simple dress. You start to explore his body with your hands, running them up his sides and down over his strong back muscles, repeating the pattern. 

Osferth suddenly rolls you over until you are on top, and you sit on him tentatively, unable to ignore the bulge you feel in his pants that's pressing against your center. 

“I cannot be the only one undressed,” Osferth says easily, a smile tugs at his lips as he reaches for the ties at the front of your dress. Slowly, sensually, you help Osferth remove your dress, the intricate laces and extra layers adding an additional step of difficulty. Finally, you pull your dress and shift up over your head, baring yourself before him, nipples hardening in the cool air, left only in your smallclothes on your bottom half. 

Your heartbeat races as his eyes devour your body and you desperately try not to feel self-conscious. His big, hot hands run up your hips, over your ribs and across your back. You arch into his embrace, reveling in the warmth of his hands, feeling the calluses on his palms, knowing those same hands have dealt death to many men in battle yet are being so gentle on your soft skin now. 

His thumb skims down over your nipples briefly, getting you used to his touch. His hands make another circuit down your ribs and up your back before sliding down to your breasts once more; his large hands cover them completely as he gives them a gentle squeeze, kneading softly. You whimper, closing your eyes to his touch, unable to help grinding on top of his covered length as his attention to your breasts builds your arousal, an ache forming between your thighs. 

He lets out a soft grunt as you continue to rub yourself upon his growing bulge. Suddenly, he flips you back over, the naked skin of your back now laying upon the soft fur blanket and kneels between your thighs.

“Have you ever seen a naked man before?” he asks and you shake your head no.

He seems to have expected this, shifting to take off his breeches and bare himself to you. Your eyes widen when you look upon his impressive length and your brain suddenly jumpstarts, that’s supposed to fit inside me? Hard and heavy, his cock stands erect between his legs and it draws your eye; you can’t help but stare at the veins and the way the head seems to weep. Your gaze flits over his moderate patch of hair and finally his balls; they look taunt from the strain of his standing cock and you wonder what they feel like to touch. 

Your trepidation must have shown clearly on your face, for Osferth no longer kneels between your legs but lies at your side.

He grabs your chin and looks you in the eyes, “We’ll go slow,” he promises as he places a soft kiss on your lips. 

You nestle into the soft fur of the blanket, the heat of the fire and of Osferth’s skin keeping you plenty warm. You continue to kiss for a few more moments, the kisses becoming deeper and more heated and you try to ignore the way his heavy cock presses against your thigh. Suddenly, his hand comes up and rests on your leg and you immediately tense at the sensation. You know what is coming and it both terrifies and exhilarates you. 

For a couple of strokes, Osferth simply rubs your outer thigh, getting you used to the sensation of him touching you more than he ever has before. As you relax under his touch, you arch your back, sighing into his mouth as you press your chest into his, enveloped in his warm embrace. The heat of his skin settles you, calms you. He continues for a few more moments, hand moving from your thigh, sliding up and over your ribs and down your back before finally caressing your breasts again. 

The ache between your legs continues to grow, but it’s not an entirely new sensation, you had felt desire before. You find yourself craving his touch and wanting more.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes as he starts to trail kisses down your neck and over your collarbone, finally putting your nipple in his mouth and sucking, kneading the other breast with his hand. You push your breasts into his face and moan, delighted at these new sensations. You rub your thighs together, hoping for some friction as Osferth still has yet to touch you there. 

He works his way back up your body, kissing your lips and you revel in his touch, running your fingers through his hair, pulling at the back of it a bit, urging him on. Osferth had promised to go slow and slow he was going. You decide to help him pick up the pace a bit.

You are still far too intimidated to touch his length but you take his hand and lead it between your thighs, feeling bold. He breaks the kiss and gives you a small smirk.

“So impatient,” he whispers, hand stilling on your center, not giving you the friction you crave. “Lie back for me.” 

You roll from your side onto your back as Osferth easily removes your smallclothes and your naked body lies on the fur on full display. Osferth shifts closer to you, propped up on one arm as his hand trails down your stomach and up one thigh. You mewl pathetically, begging him with your sounds where you want him to touch you.

A smug smile lifts the corners of his sensuous mouth; he knows exactly what he is doing and how to tease you as he trails his fingers along the inside of your other thigh. You squirm and begin kneading your breasts, his eyes flicking up to watch you touch yourself and finally he relents from his torturous teasing as his fingers come to lightly trail over your silky slit.

Your breath hitches at his touch, as he parts your lips with his fingertips and explores your folds, dipping down to your entrance, gathering wetness onto his fingers. You close your eyes, unable to meet his gaze, bashful now as he touches your most intimate parts.

“Is this what you want, my lady?” Osferth asks playfully in a deep voice. 

You bite your lip and nod, focusing on the sensation of his fingertips as he begins to circle your bud expertly with the pads of his fingers. You mewl, spreading your legs wider for him to access your core.

“Have you ever touched yourself before?” Osferth whispers in your ear. You keep your eyes closed and nod again, too shy to see his expression when you admit to pleasuring yourself. You had even brought yourself to orgasm from time to time. But no man has ever made you feel as good as this. 

“Good, then you are at least familiar with this,” he mutters, mostly to himself and you relax at his approval.

After a few moments, you start to pant as his adept fingers increase the pace on your bundle of nerves. You moan as Osferth shifts his fingers down to your entrance and he tentatively pushes one inside of your tight velvet walls, slowly working you open.

You gasp a little, eyes snapping open, fingers gripping the back of his hair, holding him close, his lips on your neck. His finger is much longer and thicker than your own and your back arches off the floor at the sensation of him inside of you. His intrusion doesn’t hurt, your pussy is well soaked by now as he moves his middle finger in and out of you gently. Your breathing picks up as lewd squelching noises mix with the crackling of the fire, sounding loud in the quiet room. 

He manages to lift his face from your neck, a feat considering how hard you are clinging to him, and watches your face as he explores the inside of your pussy with his finger, his heavy-lidded eyes dark with lust. 

You pant, eyes glazed, staring up at him as he watches your face. After a few more gentle pumps you feel him withdraw only to feel a slight stretch this time as he pushes two fingers into you. Eyes widening, your breath quickens at the unfamiliar sensation, hands moving down to grip his shoulders, eyebrows knitting together as you adjust to this new feeling.

He immediately stops when he sees your slight frown. “Does it hurt?” he asks, voice soft. You shake your head and bring your lips up to his, and he gives a satisfied groan into your mouth as you continue to feel him moving inside of you, feeling your walls, as if he is searching for something.

It isn’t until electricity explodes from your core and straight into your heart that you realize he found whatever it was that he had been searching for. You are unable to maintain your kiss, panting and moaning and he crooks his fingers repeatedly against a sweet spot deep inside of you, a spot you didn’t even know existed. Somewhere in the far recesses of your mind, you wonder how he already knows your body better than you do. 

He sets a steady rhythm, pumping his fingers while curling them slightly, consistently hitting your spot of pleasure, overwhelming you by the intense sensations he is pulling from your body. 

After a minute, he pauses his ministrations, giving you a small reprieve and you moan loudly, breathing heavily. 

“My lady, close your eyes and focus on the pleasure,” Osferth instructs in a whisper and you do as he bids, letting him consume you as he begins again, picking up the pace. His palm constantly rubs your pearl and soon you start to feel something intense building deep inside of you, stronger than you’ve ever known before. You focus on the pleasure, your breath starting to come in quick gasps as the tension builds. Suddenly you find yourself babbling uncontrollably, begging Osferth to continue his pace, willing him not to stop.

Ecstasy explodes from your core, traveling to the tips of your fingers and toes as you cry aloud, legs trembling as your cunt clenches down on Osferth’s fingers, reaching a level of pleasure you have never known. Osferth continues to work you through your peak until you are on the brink of overstimulation, finally withdrawing his hand, leaving you panting on the floor next to him. As you try to regain your composure, you open your eyes, mind blissfully blank, and stare at the wooden ceiling of your cozy cabin. 

You turn your head to look at Osferth next to you and he raises his eyebrows.

“… what was that?” you ask breathlessly.

“Did you like it?” he asks innocently with a cocky smirk as if it wasn’t perfectly obvious that he had just given you the greatest pleasure of your life. 

All you can manage is a giggle; you’re at a loss for words. You hear him chuckle too, low under his breath beside you as he shifts. Looking down, your heartbeat picks up again as you notice that he has grasped himself in hand, using your slick from his fingers to coat his thick length. 

“Are you ready?” he asks softly and a tingle goes up your spine as adrenaline spikes in your veins again. You find yourself trembling, not from fear, but from anticipation.

You find that you can not speak, only nod as you finally realize what is coming. His fingers were one thing but his length still looks just as alarmingly large. You know you want him inside of you but you are apprehensive of the pain you are sure to feel, even after your incredible peak.

Osferth moves to hover above you once more, his slim hips resting on yours. He gives you a deep kiss as he lines himself up with your entrance and you break the kiss once you feel him pressing there; you can’t seem to concentrate on doing two things at once as you tense, wondering how on earth he is supposed to fit. Osferth pushes the head of his cock into your opening, stretching you fully for the first time.

You immediately suck in a sharp breath at the pain and he instantly withdraws, looking down at you with concerned eyes. 

Shivering a little underneath him, you whimper, “Osferth, how is it supposed to fit?” a note of worry in your voice.

His eyes soften as he understands the source of your concern. Leaning down, he gives you a sweet kiss while shifting his weight to one elbow, his hand comes up to smooth your hair away from your face in a reassuring gesture. 

“My lady, you have to relax,” he says in a soothing whisper. “There will be some stretching but most women seem to enjoy it. A sharp pain means you are too tense or not wet enough and I do not think we have to be concerned with the latter,” he chuckles a little at his joke as he guides you through this.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks gently, giving you a way out.

You shake your head quickly, you have come this far and you aren't stopping now. 

“Breathe deeply for me,” Osferth counsels wisely and you do as he says. He leans down and kisses your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth as he tries to distract you again as he guides the head of his cock into your pussy once more.

This time he doesn’t stop as the head of his cock spears you open and he continues pushing in, sliding slowly, inch by savory inch. Again you can’t maintain the kiss, focusing on the stretch, his eyes scan your face, watching for any signs of pain. The stretch is intense, more so than what you were expecting. You close your eyes, eyebrows knitting together, focusing on allowing him deep inside of you, panting and trying to breathe through the new sensation. Above you, Osferth gives a small groan as he tries to push in as slowly and gently as possible without causing you undue pain.

Finally, he bottoms out inside of you, bodies fully flush together and he stills, allowing your walls to adjust to his girth. 

“There,” he breathes, nose brushing against yours, “the hardest part is over.”

You nod, hanging on to every word as he kisses you again and begins thrusting very softly in small, rocking movements.   

In a few moments, you find yourself relaxing as you get accustomed to the stretch and it starts to feel quite nice. You find you quite like the feeling of his thick cock dragging along inside your walls, filling you up, completing you, making you feel whole, joined together as one at last.

Your hands move to explore his shoulders, sliding down along his back muscles and over his toned arse and you boldly push his butt down, causing him to sink a little deeper inside of you and causing you to gasp. Osferth smirks, seeming to enjoy your little noises as you experience everything for the first time. The feeling of fullness is heavenly as he slides back and forth, slowly increasing his pace. 

You start to meet his thrusts as you relax into his rhythm. Encouraged by your movements, he picks up the pace, increasing both your pleasure and his. 

You pant and mewl underneath him as tension builds deep in your core, radiating from your pussy through your whole body. Encouraged from your lusty moans, Osferth starts to pump in and out of you in strong, smooth strokes, the sound of your skin slaps together erotically. 

“My lady, you are so perfect,” Osferth grunts as his own release starts to build and consume him, “I am sorry but I will not last very long.”

Having not known how long it was going to last anyway, you don’t respond, continuing to meet his thrusts and whine underneath him. 

He rolls his hips into you a few more times, both of you breathing hard, consumed by the pleasure, when suddenly he withdraws, taking himself in hand and pumping quickly until thick pearly ropes of spend shoot out and coat your stomach.

You lay panting, instantly missing the loss of the fullness you felt when he had been inside of you. As the warmth of his spend seeps into the tender skin of your belly, Osferth leans back over you and gives you a sultry, deep kiss, one of love, adoration, and passion.

“You did so well,” he praises before moving away to get a wet washcloth.

As you wait for him to return, a million thoughts start racing through your mind. You were finding the ending rather anticlimactic. It was over fairly quickly, you think. Is it always so fast? Wasn’t he supposed to spill his seed inside of you? 

You hear Osferth’s footsteps pad quietly back over to you on the worn wooden floors and lay still as he wipes his spend from your stomach. You watch as his eyes, at first focused on his task, flit from your belly to your breasts and then shift downward where you’ve brought your knees up, thighs together. He gently touches your thigh and his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“Sweet one, it is normal for ladies to bleed a little after their first time,” Osferth says with a little trepidation but ever so tenderly. “I do not want you to be alarmed if you did not know. Would you allow me to clean you up?” he asks sincerely, holding up the wet linen cloth. 

You hesitate, this gesture somehow seems much more intimate than what you had just done together. You did, in fact, know that bleeding can occur when the maidenhead tears but you weren’t sure if you had bled. He had been so gentle, aside from the stretching, you hardly had felt any pain.

Slowly, you nod and open your legs a little, feeling self conscious. Will he care if there’s blood? What will he think if there is? You didn’t want him to think less of you or be disgusted by something you couldn’t control. What if you didn’t bleed? Will he think you lied to him about being a virgin?

Osferth folds the cloth over to a clean side and wipes your still sensitive folds, being much more gentle than you would have been. The coolness from the wet cloth feels nice on your slightly sore skin and you allow your knees to fall to the side more, giving him easier access. You watch his face, admiring the profile of his sharp nose and strong jaw while his eyes focus on cleaning your most intimate parts.

You find that you can’t help but ask. “Did I bleed?” you say in barely a whisper, feeling afraid of the answer.

“A little,” Osferth replies, seeming totally unphased. 

“Oh, I- I’m sorry,” fear colors your voice and you attempt to close your legs, to hide the embarrassing sight but Osferth stops you, a frown in between his eyebrows as he looks up at your face and pushes your legs apart again.

“My lady, it is completely natural, please do not be ashamed,” he finishes wiping and then suddenly spreads your legs much wider. Before you can stop him, he leans down and places a kiss right onto your sensitive folds. Your breath catches at the sensation of his lips on your pussy, your eyes widen at the thought of his face down there. Head still between your thighs he looks up at you smugly. 

“We will practice with my mouth another time,” he gives you a sly grin and your eyes pop. Laying the cloth to dry by the fire, he comes back up to snuggle you close, both of you still completely bare. 

You lay in his arms, fingers running through his chest hair as your brain whirls. Your heart feels full; you feel contented, relaxed, and exhilarated that you just had sex for the first time and you feel more connected to Osferth than ever before. You had heard so many horror stories growing up and had been so sure that sex was a horrible and painful experience for all women. But you couldn’t have been more pleased with having the opposite experience. Aside from the little bit of pain as your body welcomed him inside of you for the first time, the stretching quickly grew quite pleasurable and you decided you had enjoyed your first time immensely. 

You muse on all of this as Osferth holds you in his arms and now you feel like you can focus on his bare form. Your fingers slide over his toned pecks, tracing down his abs. Your gaze is level with Osferth’s neck muscles and collarbone and, unable to help yourself, you lean in and kiss his neck, licking at the salty skin and enjoying his taste. Surprised, he pulls away and looks down at you. 

“Can we do it again?” you ask, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

He smirks and makes a humming noise deep in his chest. 

“There is much for us to explore…as long as you are sure you do not feel sore, yes, my lady, we can do it as many times as you like,” he places a sweet kiss on your lips. 

“Osferth?” you ask again, unable to help yourself. 

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you, showing he is listening.

“Why did you not spill inside of me?”

He blinks in surprise. “I would have thought it obvious,” he shifts to look better at you. “My lady, you are so young and already have two small children to care for. I could not bring myself to add the burden of another, especially since we are off to battle again soon,” he states simply and the thought of war momentarily chills the warm air, an icy reminder of what is soon to come.

He continues, “But when you are ready and we are more settled, then I will happily give you my seed, and watch your belly swell with my child, if that is what you wish.” He runs his hand over your flat stomach as if imagining it. 

You nod, complex emotions running through your mind. He is trying to save you from raising another child alone, yet you want nothing more than to possess a piece of him. Should things go badly in battle, you cannot help but feel he should leave a part of himself behind. You lay quietly as he begins gently rubbing your side, conflicted by this sudden intense desire while recognizing the logic behind his words. 

Heat starts to build between your legs again as he continues to absentmindedly rub your back. You give him a sweet kiss on the lips, kissing along his jaw and he moans softly at your tender touch. You boldly nip at the skin of his neck, initiating the second round of lovemaking.

He obliges you, kissing you deeply as your bodies melt together as one again, moving much more quickly than before. He puts you on top this time, grasping your hips and rocking you upon his thick length as he thrusts up into you from below. 

Your orgasm starts to build, spurred by the constant stimulation of your bud along his pubic bone. You can feel your muscles tense as the coiling tension builds within you, driving you higher and higher, filthy words escape from your lips, gone mad with passion or perhaps just crazed with lust; you almost don’t even recognize the sound of your own voice as you exclaim how much you love his cock inside you, how badly you want his seed, how you can’t wait to grow round with his child…As your peak crashes over you once more, your core clenches down on his length and you beg him to finish with you, to not pull out. 

“Oh gods, yes….Osferth, please give it to me,” you scream in ecstasy as you come apart on top of him.

If he is surprised by the brazen words pouring from your mouth, he doesn’t let it show, instead seeming even more aroused by your emphatic display of passion. His breathing is harsh as he thrusts harder and rougher within you, forgetting to be gentle until he stills inside of you with a groan, his thick cock pulsing within your soft velvet walls. 

Coming down from your high, you close your eyes and tilt your head back, moaning ever so softly, “Yes, Osferth, give it all to me,” as you continue to rock gently on top of him, milking his cock as your walls continue to flutter around him. 

He groans again, fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh of your hips and suddenly he flips you over while maintaining your connection, leaning down and capturing your mouth with his own, claiming you with his tongue as you wrap your arms and legs around him, holding him as close as you possibly can until his cock starts to soften inside of you.

You lose count how many times you make love that night and again in the morning before he departs. Your pussy feels deliciously sore, love bites and bruises mottle the skin of your neck and breasts from his lips and teeth. You love the marks he has left upon your body, feeling like they are a silent declaration of his possession, you belong to him now, just as he belongs to you.

In the doorway of your small cabin, you share a deep, passionate kiss with Osferth before he departs, the taste of him lingering on your lips. As you watch him walk down the frozen muddy lane where Finan waits for him with his horse (“My arse is freezing, Baby Monk!” he exclaims, playfully encouraging Osferth to hurry), your hand travels to your lower belly, cradling it, hoping your womb will quicken from his seed, wondering if new life will blossom from the love that you made repeatedly together. Your heart feels heavy, knowing that he faces the brutal uncertainties of battle. But such is the life of a warrior's future wife, a life marked by both love and the ever-present shadow of war. You hope, in time, there will be a place you can finally call “home” with Osferth by your side. 

The End

Tags: @peonamay @quinnquinn317 @multyfangirl @cyeco13 @aemondsscar @chainsawsangel @boundlessfantasy @bellaisasleep @fan-goddess @pandemonium105 @megatardisbaby @gemini-mama @bcon24 @lexwolfhale @lauzy87 @arcielee @urmomsgirlfriend1 @iscocohere

[lis-likes-fics]

At Long Last (Revised)

Pairings: Dream of the Endless x goddess!Reader Word Count: 13.8k words Warnings: Captivity, murder, torture, slight maiming, swearing… A/N: This used to be 9.8k words but...here we are now. I posted this a year ago and decided I didn't do it enough justice. You can still find the first post here if you wanted to compare it. I hope you enjoy this, happy reading!

"Must you leave for so much time?"

You smiled gently at your Dream, taking his hands and stepping closer. You kiss the spot between his brows, "I will be back before you know it. The humans need me right now, and I must aid them. That is our purpose, isn't it?" 

The world had been thrust into a war. The humans were struggling, and, as the Goddess of Hope and Transformation, it was your job to aid them in their struggles. Dream knew this well, it was one of the reasons he loved you so.

He merely breathed a sigh and nodded as he looked down at you, "Very well, then. Be safe."

"I always am," you smiled, pressing your hand to his cheek. "Don't go anywhere while I'm gone." It was a joke, gentle teasing as you tried to pull a smile from his lips. You managed a ghost of one and nothing more. You sighed and leaned forward, kissing his lips gently as you savored the taste of him before you were off. You didn't know how long you would be gone. "I love you, Morpheus."

"And I, you," he said.

~

The war lasted four long years. Four years full of grueling work; taking care of the injured and the dead, healing the sick… You stayed behind another two years to help those of the mortal plane to begin to settle and recover after the chaos and bloodshed came to an end.

You spent most days and nights as a medic for injured soldiers, some days you were doing charity work for the families at home. Work was busy—answering prayers, granting hope to those without, helping in any way that you could to ease the troubles of war.

By the time you returned to the Dreaming, all you wished to do was hold your husband in your arms and dream with him for a little while. But as you crossed the threshold of dream and slumber, felt yourself returning home for the first time in six years, you knew something was wrong. Things had changed. You would not return to the Dreaming the way you left it.

You stood at the gates for a very long time, staring at the carvings and the art of the entrance, lost in the careful contemplation of what you would be returning to. Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest. You were afraid to move any closer. You chewed on your lip and tapped your foot, shaking your head as the worry ate at you.

Just go, you thought to yourself. He'll be waiting on the other side for you. Surely, he will.

You took in a slow, deep breath…and then took a step.

"My lady?"

You turned your head and found your loyal librarian approaching you. You smiled and held your arms out to your dear friend. "Lucienne," you breathed as you took her in your arms. "It's been so long."

She smiled, a type of relief in your eyes you knew like the back of your hand. Hope. She held tight.

You sighed, "Where's Morpheus?"

You felt her muscles tense as she pulled back with a frown. "I was hoping…" her relief turned to dread, "he'd gone to you while you were away."

Your smile fell and a concern slipped over your face that Lucienne briefly mistook as anger. "What does that mean?" you asked.

She took a slight step back, holding a journal in her arms as she looked down at her feet for just a moment. She peaked up at you over the top of her glasses as she frowned. "I'm afraid…Lord Morpheus has been gone for four years. He went to the Waking World two years after you left in search of the Corinthian, and…he hasn't been seen since."

Your heart sparked with pain at the news of your dear husband's disappearance. Everything was fine when you left, and now he was gone? How could this happen?

"Show me the kingdom," you said.

Lucienne nodded hesitantly as you both made your way to the grand entrance of the Dreaming. They opened for their queen without hesitation, your long white robes flowing behind.

The realm seemed…okay. Most of the same magic, just lacking in a bit of luster. But it was just okay. The Dreaming was grand, magnificent, the reflection of the fantasies and hopes and fears and loves of all of humanity and inhumanity. If Morpheus didn't return soon, it would begin to crumble. You would not see his realm turn to ash, not if you could help it.

You went to the castle with Lucienne at your side, waving to the residents who smiled and waved their greetings to their returning queen, delighted and enchanted that you were home again. Happy as you were to see them again, you had more pressing matters on your mind.

The inside of the castle—the heart of the realm—was stronger as you ventured within, but there were cracks in the walls that carved themselves into your heart. Morpheus lack of presence in the realm was breaking, even you could only feel so much of him here…

You pressed your hand against one of the cracks, so shallow they could be passed on as marble-like design. You frowned, peeling your hand away into somewhat of a fist.

"I have to go find my husband."

"My lady," Lucienne gave a gentle interjection as a voice of reason. "If I may… I think it would be best if you stayed. Without Dream, the realm will begin to fade. Your presence might be the only thing keeping this place from ruin."

"But if he's missing and he doesn't return, my presence won't do a thing," you told her. You could see her sigh at your response, not unreasonable but certainly not her favorite. "I need to find him and bring him back. Do you know where he went?"

She shook her head regrettably, "No, I don't. But perhaps you could ask one of his siblings?"

You hesitated at the idea. "Perhaps if it comes to that, but… you know how the Endless are." She sighed and nodded.

You softened at the sight of her despondency, walking over to her as you set your hands on her shoulders. She looked up at you again, and you offered a smile. "I will return soon."

She tilted her head. "He said the same thing."

Your reassuring smile faltered and you let out a breath. "I promise. Have hope, dear friend."

She smiled sentimentally. She set a hand over yours. "I did miss you, my lady," she said.

"And I, you." You blinked a couple of times. They were the last words Morpheus had said to you before you left. "I will be back, and I'll be back with Dream."

It was more to reassure yourself than her. You let out a long breath and stepped away. "Stay safe," Lucienne bid softly.

You smiled. "I always am."

You grasped the edges of your white robes, feeling them between your fingers before sweeping them over your form like billowing sheets in the wind. They enveloped you in magic as you took flight in a blur of feathers of white.

He was somewhere in the Waking World. That was what you knew. You would find him one way or another.

~

You searched the world, wings and magic carrying you across the vast realm. You searched over land and sea and mountain and countryside. You searched the sky and you searched the caves. The more you searched, the more you wondered, the more you doubted. You couldn't find him, not in the trees, not in the sand. He was being kept from you, a deliberate shield of your senses. When you finished, you swept the Earth again for the ethereal being you could not find.

And then again over.

It was about a month before you finally returned to the Dreaming. You collapsed on the throne, barren of the king it belonged to, exhausted and dismayed.

As if on cue, Lucienne was standing there again. Her face was full of worry and concern as she looked upon you for the first time in a while.

"I can't find him, Lucienne," you lamented. "I searched over the Earth five times, and he was nowhere. I'm worried."

She took a step, "We will find him, my queen."

You nodded gently, looking around as if the answer would present itself. It seemed like it did when your eyes found a depiction of his mask on a carving in the wall. You stood and began descending the steps. "I will ask his siblings. Surely one of them will have an answer—Death, Destiny, even possibly Desire."

As you took the first few steps, you faltered for a moment, your legs weak and your tired arms sore as you caught yourself. Your robe splayed over the floor, dark skies inside of your cloak filled with clouds of grey. Lucienne rushed to your side, helping you stay steady on your feet as she caught of glimpse of the gloomy weather hidden within your cloak. Her brows creased in worry. "You need to rest, my lady. You cannot go out there like this."

You shook your head in protest, dusting yourself off. "I need to find my husband."

"Ma'am, please," she begged. She adjusted the glasses on the tip of her nose, furrowed brows pulled tight with her worry. "You put yourself at risk by leaving as you are. You can't help him if you, yourself, are hurt."

You pressed the meat of your palm to your temple, staving off a headache forming there. You couldn't sleep, without Dream, it was far and few and unpleasantly empty. You sighed, thinking for a moment before resigning with the nod of your head. "Alright," you said, choosing to ease your dear friend's worry. "I'll rest, but then I go straight to them."

She licked her lips, looking down at the ground for a moment. "My lady—if I may," she trailed off, thinking before she spoke again, "the realm needs you."

"The realm has you." You trusted Lucienne to take your place while you were away. She was more than capable of holding the realm together, as far as the residents go.

"I'm just a dream," she shook her head, adjusting her glasses and placing her arms behind her back again, still gripping her journal. "You're his wife. Lord Morpheus is the heart of the Dreaming, you are the heart of Lord Morpheus. The realm needs you." She tilted her head, looking away to organize her thoughts again, careful of her words as though she were speaking to a tempered Dream.

"Some of the dreams are beginning to doubt Lord Morpheus will return," she began slowly. "Some believe that, if you find him…you will abandon them, too."

Your lips parted as you listened to the news. "They think we will leave them behind?" you wondered. "Have they no faith in us?"

"It's not a matter of faith as much as it is a matter of uncertainty. One of the Endless has abandoned their duties before,” her words were guarded. She did not look at you as easily as she said it, uncertain of what your response would be.

Instead you merely sighed and clenched your jaw, looking down as you took her words into consideration. You straightened your back again, “What will you have me do, Lucienne? Leave him?” The thought of it made your blood run cold.

Lucienne sighed. “The walls are cracking. The residents are wavering. I think he would want you to keep the realm safe first.” There was a long pause before she continued, “Perhaps you should assure everyone, mend the damage, then search for him when you have any idea as to where he actually is.” It did not come out as an insult, more as a plea for your ear.

You thought in silence for a while, trying to see if there was another way. Another way to restore the realm’s calm without the expense of leaving your husband to fend for himself, wherever he was. He could be in danger for all you knew. But if he was not in the realm, it would suffer. If you were not in the realm, it would suffer. Lucienne was right, you were the only one who could keep the Dreaming intact, even if only for a little while, until you were certain you knew where Morpheus was. Until you were certain you could find him again.

You looked down at your feet and sighed, defeated by Lucienne's better judgment to your love-rotten mind. You nodded your head and agreed. “Very well. I will,” you swallowed hard before looking up again. “But as soon as I have anything, I find Morpheus.”

She did not argue. “Of course, my lady.”

~

Without Morpheus' magic, it took three years for your presence alone to heal the cracks in the foundation. When you returned, the residents of the Dreaming eased their worries and allowed you liberty not to be too concerned about their loyalty.

It was tiring—lonesome—to have no clue as to where your husband could've been. Lucienne passed on any information she could, but she had her own responsibilities to the library.

You'd hoped to find him in sleep, as all people did—but even there, your wishes were not answered. Nevertheless, you resigned to bed for the first time in over a week. You, admittedly, did not require much sleep, but without Dream, sleep was much harder to acquire anyway.

Your hand brushed against the empty spot beside you. His pillow was cold, his sheets colder. You laid back gently against your own with a heavy sigh and felt the tears before they were even a thought in your mind. The sobs shook more gently from you, having grown used to the feeling over the past few years. Part of you feels guilty for grieving so much. It's one of the reasons it took so long, your heart was hurting and hope was always wavering because of it. Sleep did not ease you for a long time that night, when you slept and dreamt the first dream in a long time.

A dream through the vision of another's eyes.

High over the expanse of trees. The sounds of other birds, flapping wings. Blue skies, green fields. Then a house, a mansion.

A strange air. A dark presence.

You woke up with a start, breath heavy and loud as your pulse roared in your ears. Raising a hand to ease your thumping heart, you calmed yourself enough to recount the dream that had whispered in your ear.

Jessamy, that beautiful bird.

In the next second, you were dressed in your robes and off to the library. Upon turning the corner to see her stocking shelves, you rushed toward her with a quiet exclamation. "Lucienne!"

She turned to you in a heartbeat, attentive and alert, "What is it?"

You smiled, one of the first genuine smiles she'd seen on you in years. "Jessamy. She showed me where he is. I didn't see him, but I saw a house."

"Are you going there?" she wondered, immediately concerned for your welfare.

"I have to," you take Lucienne's hands. "If there's any chance she's right, I have to take it. You're in charge until I return, and I will be back soon."

Lucienne nodded dutifully, though you could see her hesitance to let her go. But you are the queen, and she is your humble servant. "Be safe, my queen."

"I always am."

And then you were flying into the Waking World, a white crow's wings carrying you across the skies. You searched for her, which was a lot easier than searching for your husband's mysterious location.

You found her perched under a tree, and you shifted upon arrival to greet her. Her wings spread wide in greeting and you smiled. "Jessamy! I've missed you," you held out a hand for her and she stood on your wrist as you brought her up to your level. "Where is he?"

She turned her head in the direction of the large manor she'd shown you in your dreams. Flying away again, Jessamy bid you to take her lead. You transformed in a lunge, chasing after her on nimble paws.

You came up on the manor, watched as she perched on a tree. She turned her head to you, giving a slight bow. You continued on, slowing as you came up on a stray entrance to the house, a tiny hole in the foundation at the side just big enough for you to slip in.

As you squeezed through, you looked around at the grand place. It was an old manor, very traditional and belonging to a family of high standing. You padded along the halls, looking at the architecture and furniture, the vases and paintings.

The sound of voices down the hall had you rushing to find a corner to hide in. You crouched under a chair in the hall just as a tall man dressed in expensive clothes and white hair combed from his face. He had a beard of white, a cane to help him walk. As he passed by you, you followed after, staying low to the ground as you traveled along the wall to remain hidden.

His swift steps resounded along the halls as you followed. He stopped. You stilled. As he turned around, you hid behind a vase on the floor. The fur along your back stood on end, and you crouched low to the ground. His eyes swept the corridor, he hesitated, and then he continued walking once more.

You came up to a door. Turning the handles, he opened it and walked into a room. It was dark, a cellar guarded by two men armed with guns and bored-looking faces—two men who quickly stood to their feet upon his arrival.

So he was the boss. You slipped in just before the door closed, staying close to the wall as you ducked underneath the table both the guards had been sitting. You turned.

And you saw him.

You stared and gawked and gazed at Morpheus, trapped in a globe of glass without a strip of clothing to protect himself. Anger flared within you as the older man stood in front of the glass. He had a stern look on his face as he stood there, hands clasped behind his back as he balanced the cane between his fingers.

He stood there for a while, staring at your dream lord like an ant under his boot. "We've been here before," he sighed, already exhausted of the conversation. "I've asked a thousand times, and I'll ask a thousand more," he said. "Can you return my son to me?"

Morpheus said nothing as he stared with a gaze that would penetrate souls and turn men to boys. The coldness in his eyes, the chill of the silent rage in them made the room freeze.

"No?" he jabbed. "Money? Power? Anything?"

No response.

He hummed, tapping the cane behind his back. He knew the drill. "Very well then."

He left without another word.

As he walked away, you began moving again. You crawled forward, coming from underneath the table in a slow crawl to keep from being so conspicuous, your white fur making you obvious in the darkness.

As Dream stared down at his lap, his brows furrowed. He looked around slowly, sensing the presence of something nonhuman and searching for it. His eyes lifted and found you immediately. No matter who or what you were, he would sense you anywhere.

His eyes found yours, deep and sorrowful and filled with the depths of his love for you. His empty face slowly shifted, lifting in a tiny little smile as he found light in the sight of you.

Your heart cried out for him. He looked so ethereal. To others, he would be a strange creature with strange powers to behold.

But to you, he was your husband. And you loved your husband.

You took a few steps forward, quick and light on your feet. His face shifted again, and he shook his head, the movement miniscule but enough.

You stopped and tilted your head at him. Why?

You tried to step forward again. Another protest.

His eyes pleaded for your heed, teary and regretful. He opened his mouth just a crack and mouthed a simple "no".

You huffed and ignored his words. There was no way you would come this far after spending so much time searching for him, only to leave him behind once you have him in your sights again.

You bounded toward the glass. His lips parted and his eyes filled with regret. You ran across the expanse of the room, jumping over the water that lined the cage as you grew closer to the man who had been trapped here for the last five years.

As you jumped toward the glass, you hit a barrier surrounding the dome. You bounded off of it and landed on your feet, crouched still as you stared frustratedly at the glass. Shit.

The guards looked up as they caught sight of you out of the corner of their eyes. "Oi!" He turned to his friend, patting him roughly on the chest. "Where'd a fucking cat come from?"

"I don't know. Get it!"

You looked at Morpheus again, staring anxiously. He shook his head and looked toward the exit again. You mewled weakly, hesitating as you kept watching him. It had been so long…

You felt fingers brush your backside as you slipped out of the man's grip, skidding away before starting off for the door. He cursed under his breath.

You sprinted toward the closest exit you could find. You slipped through with ease, leaving the complaining man behind as you broke out into the corridor. You kept running and running, stopping only once to glance behind you to see if the halfwits were still after you.

"Hey!"

Your ears perked and you turned quickly as you stared at the man who had imprisoned your husband. He glared at you, bringing his cane up with every intention of smacking you with it.

You hissed violently, arching your back as you backed away with the swat of your paw. He swung at you, just narrowly missing. You bounded in the other direction. He walked after you quickly, just as you broke out through the front door, taking off like a bullet toward the trees.

You heard his exclamation behind you. A loud "fuck!" in the distance as you continued on into the woods surrounding the manor. He watched Jessamy fly down from the trees to fly after you. And then he watched you jump into flight with her. You heard him curse again.

Out into the woods, you stopped to catch your breath. Leaning against a tree on your own two legs now, eyes full of tears and heart full of rage, you cried. Jessamy perched in front of you, hanging her head mournfully.

"He's been in there for five years?"

She bobbed her head in confirmation. You huffed. "We have to save him," you sighed. "But they have a shield against me, I can't get to him myself."

She stared thoughtfully.

You stood straight, dusting off your robes and letting out a heavy breath. You closed your eyes for a moment, steadying yourself and wiping at your face to be rid of your tears. Jessamy flew up to a tree limb, watching and waiting for an order.

You turned toward her, running a hand through your hair to think. "Keep watch, be safe. I will return soon."

She bowed her head again, and you smiled at her as you pet her feathers. She nestled her head into your palm. She'd missed you. Wishing her farewell, you flew off again to the Dreaming.

~

Roderick Burgess stormed back down to the cellar, clutching his cane tightly in his grip. The last thing he needed to deal with was some bloody bird and a magical cat.

He approached the prison and stood there silently as Dream glared at him with more rage than he'd seen in him since he arrived, even more rage than they'd held when he was first captured.

Voice tight, Burgess watched Dream intently. He grit his teeth. "Who was the cat that came to visit you today?"

As expected, Dream said nothing. What surprised Burgess, however, was the clench of his jaw as he glared at the old man with a burning rage.

"Oh, is it someone important?" he asked, raising a brow. He thought briefly over who it could be that would pull a reaction from this stubborn god after five years of silence. He recalled the warnings he received after first capturing the Endless.

"Well, you'll have to deal with that one." They watched a raven fly off, disgruntled after being struck from a tree. The strange man who'd appeared in Burgess' house turned to him, passing caution. "Her name is Jessamy. She belongs to him."

Burgess' eyes flicked in the direction the bird had escaped. The man turned to leave before stopping abruptly, looking over his shoulder.

"Ah, how could I forget?" he spoke. "There's someone else you'll have to watch for. Much more powerful than a pesky bird."

Roderick tilted his chin, "Who?"

"His wife," he smiled, snapping the word. "The divine Y/N."

Burgess noted the sense of reverence in his voice as he spoke, such high respect for this mystery girl. He furrowed his brow, "Why would I care about his little wife?"

He almost looked offended at the phrasing as he licked his teeth, nearly scowling at the bitter old man. "Because she's the queen. The Goddess of Hope and Transformation, beloved in his realm and this one alike. She'd gone to war for your kind a few years ago." He said it with a hint of distaste.

Burgess stared thoughtfully. The man smiled a little, "Let's just say…she's not one known for letting things go." He tipped his hat, "Best of luck…to the both of us."

"Will I see you again?"

"You should hope not."

Dream's hard eyes were harder still. Roderick's lips turned into a malicious smirk that only curled Dream's anger. "Is it, perhaps…someone special?" He raised a brow. "Your goddess wife?"

Dream tilted his chin slightly, declining his gaze until his dangerous gaze looked deadly. Burgess could have sworn he saw his lip twitch. Progress.

"Perhaps I should catch her next," he suggested, treading dangerous waters. "Maybe she can give me what I want. Or motivate you."

His fists clenched until his pale knuckles were white as pearls. "Oh," he raised his brow, amused. "Have I angered you?" he asked. "Does my suggestion make you upset?"

He tapped his cane sharply against the hard, thinking to himself. "I don't think imprisonment would work on her or you. A broken heart bleeds more than a wounded one."

He didn't break his gaze away from Morpheus as he called the guards' attention. They sat up quickly as he addressed them. "If you see the cat again…"

Dream's glare challenged Roderick as his chest heaved with heavy, rageful breaths. He didn't seem to care. He turned away and started walking.

"Kill it."

~

You and Lucienne tore through the library in search of any spell that could break the one keeping Morpheus in and you out. You searched public archives, private archives, you searched books even you had only just discovered existed. You found nothing.

You continued back and forth between the Dreaming and the Waking World. Jessamy reported anything new that she could with each visit. Sometimes you snuck in yourself to make sure he was not hurt. Every time he laid eyes on you, you could see the sorrow in the depths of his soul.

Soon, my love.

Over the course of the next five years, even your own rule in the Dreaming was beginning to waver. The cracks were returning, the residents were doubting your search.

You needed Morpheus back. Jessamy seemed to feel the same.

One day, you went to visit her and your husband again. She flew back to the manor with you in tow. You walked after her silently as she made her way into the house. You followed closely, hiding when you needed.

You heard Burgess' steps as he came down the hall, bolting quickly as you hid underneath a chair. Jessamy posed on a lion taxidermy, still as the thing itself as she watched the man. You kept track of his footsteps, heard the sound of a match lighting into a flame, and then saw his shoes leave the room again after a du thump on the seat from something being thrown onto it. You came out of hiding as he left. Jessamy grabbed a match, lighting it flying away and returning with it lit as she dropped it onto a newspaper on the chair. Clever bird.

She returned to your side moments later as the fire caught and flew with you away. Two men, more guards, burst from a room to see what was happening. You saw your chance and took it, entering the cellar with Jessamy about you.

She went straight for him, and you followed as you allowed your magic to grant her more strength to break through the glass when you couldn't. She tapped her beak against the glass, a rapid peck in an attempt to get through. Morpheus watched the both of you and smiled, his eyes full of pride for his girls. It made your heart soar. You were so close to freedom, to him.

You leaned up against the barrier. Jessamy's wings and beak continued to beat against the glass. Dream reached out for the both of you, enthralled in his saviors.

Your ears rang as a loud crack sounded through the air.

You stilled as you felt warm, crimson blood against your snowy fur.

You flinched when Jessamy's mangled and bloodied body landed next to you.

There was another cock of the gun. You turned to see Burgess with it. You bent to take Jessamy in your maw, but Dream's hand tapping insistently against the glass stopped you. His tearful eyes pleaded for you, for you to leave, to flee, to save yourself and never return. He would not see you dead, too.

You faltered and looked back at Burgess, who was aiming the gun at you with a greedy scowl. You moved away just in time for the bullet to pass you. You ran toward them, heading for the open entrance as you tried to get through.

He cocked the gun and shot again, narrowly missing your fleeing body. The guards blocked your way as you tried to weave through. Burgess bent down and picked you up in a steel grip by the nape of your neck, pinching painfully as you hissed and clawed and squirmed.

He glared as he brought you up to his face, ignoring the way you scratched and bit at his wrist. Dream leaned against the glass, hands pressing against the cold material as he watched you struggle to break free.

He brought you up to his face, which proved to be a mistake as you clawed at him. As he granted you a smile, one full of malice and taunting, your ears peeled back as you hissed. Your sharp claws dug into his brow and raked down his face, scraping against his eye as he groaned loudly. He dropped you to the ground as he turned away to cover his eye. You landed on your feet and rushed away as the other guards chased after you.

"Get the damn thing!" You heard Roderick yell from the cellar.

Your heart pounded in your chest, imprinting its shape into your ribcage. As you glanced behind to see if you were being pursued, you missed the person walking around the corner. You screamed again when you were being picked up once more, squirming as a man's hands clamped around your body to keep you still as he held your arms tightly.

You yowled and hissed and screamed, trying to break free but finding it impossible to. Burgess and the guards approached, murderous intent in his eyes and frustrated exhaustion in theirs. "Bring her here."

The man holding you still, some other guard you recognized. You hissed as Burgess came to stand before you. He sneered and looked at you like a pest. You hissed again.

"Come." He turned and made his way back to the cellar, the guard holding you still as he followed. Upon re-entering the cellar, you saw Morpheus again as he sighed deeply and leaned away from the glass. You could see the fear in his eyes.

It was silent as you all just stared, watching one another with a variety of emotions. Burgess spoke.

"Now I have you and your little pet." He seemed to be proud of his achievement. He reached over and grabbed you roughly by your neck and you hissed at the pain. He turned you to face him, scoffing again before dropping you down and kicking you away from him with his expensive leather shoes. The painful sound you let out as you landed roughly on your side pained Dream as he watched you.

You looked at him, whining and trying to stand again. Burgess took quite a bit of joy in kicking you again, striking you roughly and sending you flying again.

"Father!" Alex, Burgess' son, exclaimed.

Burgess turned quickly toward him, raising his cane in his direction in a sharp warning. "Do you want to be next?"

Alex stepped back and bowed his head, staring at the floor regretfully and wincing as he heard his father strike you once more.

You didn't try to stand again. If you did, you would only hurt Morpheus by making him suffer through seeing you hit again. You stayed down.

Burgess huffed and turned to Dream. "Let's see how much you love your little wife."

There were no words to describe the look in your husband's eyes as he glared at Burgess. It was like watching an entire universe fill with blackness, a darkness that consumes galaxies, devours supernovas, destroys black holes from the inside, out. His jaw clenched, his breath heaved, vengeful tears rolled down the tip of his nose and dropped down from his chin.

Burgess huffed. "Keep her here. We shall teach them both a lesson."

He began to leave before turning toward Alex, "And clean that damn thing up." He stormed out of the cellar, leaving you, Alex, and the guards behind.

Slowly, Alex took Jessamy into his hands and stood back to his feet, staring sorrowfully at you and Morpheus before turning and taking his leave.

You sighed and laid on the cold floor, defeated for the moment as the weakness and exhaustion in your muscles crept in. Maybe just a little bit of sleep would do you good. Just a few minutes…

"Oi!"

Your eyes opened again, heavy as you looked at the guards again. "Don't let it sleep," he said to one of the guards. Give it a tablet or something."

Another guard pulled a bottle from his pocket as he rolled his eyes, walking over to you and bending down to grab you. You mewled as he grabbed your sore neck and forces your mouth open to shove a pill inside. You tried to force it out, but he was very thorough in ensuring it went down.

And once the pillow was swallowed, he groaned as he walked away. "Have to go wash my fucking hands now. That's disgusting," he mumbled. "Watch 'em."

"Yeah, yeah." He kicked his feet up as he sat at the desk and sighed. "Hate this fucking job."

You laid there, weak eyes watching Morpheus. He was so beautiful. You could stare at him for hours…

~

You didn't know how long you spent trapped in that cellar—at least a month, if you were thinking correctly with the passing of time. Burgess kept you weak and awake, a metal collar chained around your neck tight enough so you couldn't slip out. It was bolted to the floor, you wouldn't be escaping anytime soon as you were too hurt to shift out of them.

Burgess would come to the cellar every day and ask things of Dream that he could and would not give. When he gave silence to the man's pesky questions, he would turn to you and have the guards kick you around to encourage Morpheus. You hated it, being the center of his torment.

And what of Lucienne? You hadn't returned when you said and now you were trapped too. How were you to help if you couldn't even get out of your own chains?

You didn't know how long you spent down there with your husband, you held on for the sole purpose of ensuring him that you would both make it out okay. You were his hope, you would not break.

Burgess was angry when he came to the cellar one day. You sighed as you adjusted yourself to sit, ignoring the ache in your bone and muscle as you stared at him. Your fur was grimy, still stained with the blood of dear Jessamy and darkened by dirt and blood of your own.

Your ear flicked as you just stared at Burgess, who didn't regard you as he made his way to Dream. He came up and leaned on the glass, watching him through one eye as the other scarred shut after your defilement. It was a great look on him.

He was silent for a while, he liked to relish in the power of his own silence but despised the silence of others after he'd demanded a reply.

He finally spoke, stressed and annoyed as ever. "The woman who lives with me has gone and robbed me of my fortune," he said.

You remembered this woman. She was kind to you, at least—Ethel Cripps. She used to keep out food for you. On the occasion that she could, she'd even allow you a moment of comfort and a scratch behind the ears. You hadn't seen her since you were captured.

"She's also robbed you," he continued. You tilted your head. "She's taken your helm, your sand, and your ruby." As if you needed another problem to solve…

"Now, I can unlock this, you can go after her, I can let your little thing go…if you give me what I've been asking for. Wealth, youth, immortality." There was a long pause, frustration at Morpheus' silence. "Oh, you're a god. These things are nothing to you."

Another pause. "Don't you want your weapons and your freedom? To see your wife as something other than a bloody cat being thrown around like a ragdoll?"

Dream tilted his head but gave no other response. Burgess' anger got the better of him as he grew impatient, frustrated.

"Speak to me! Speak to me! Speak to me!" He punctuated each word with a sharp strike at the glass with his cane. You watched silently, intently. Your ear twitched and the movement caught his eye as he turned toward you. As he stepped forward, you stood to start backing away, stopped by the chain as you pulled on it to move away some more.

Dream practically jumped to the glass, the rage flaring.

Burgess raised his cane high. "Speak!"

You crouched in anticipation of the strike.

Alex's hand took hold of the cane just before it came down on you. You stared, frozen with fear as your wide eyes went unblinking.

"It's all right, Father."

He turned quickly, dropping his pursuits to glare offended at his son. "Get away from me! If you were any kind of son to me…" He swung his cane at the boy.

Alex struggled not to be hit, moving out of the way as the cane swung and he flailed his arms to catch it. Your heart pounded in your chest, recovering still from such a close encounter. 

"If Randall were alive today–"

Alex grabbed it once more, firmly halting his father's attempts to strike him once more. "If Randall were alive, he would hate you as much as I do!"

Burgess stopped and huffed, forcing Alex away and not anticipating him to push back. The force was too harsh for the both of them as Burgess stumbled back, losing grip of his cane after being knocked off balance.

With a sickening smack and a surprised grunt, Burgess fell back against and hit his head against the glass. He brought a hand back to see the blood smeared on his fingers, slumping to the ground as you just watched.

Alex and the guards rushed to him. He wheezed as his blood leaked out over the cold, hard floors. He turned weakly to Morpheus as his eyes fluttered and his breath became labored with the loom of death. "You're never getting out of there," he said, eyes drifting. "Never."

His eyes found you, hooded and fading. You stared at him, your own eyes wide as you watched him. A heavy, cold hand reached out toward you, wanting so desperately to feel one last shred of hope before he left his mortal coil forever.

You stood and turned your back to him.

You heard his hand fall to the floor, a dull thump. You sighed, relief flooding you now that the source of the cruelty was gone…

Alex backed away from his father's body, disoriented and dazed as he stared. He shook his head and looked around with a face etched in confusion and fear.

As you turned around, standing to your feet, Alex's gaze found your thoughtful eyes. You blinked and turned your head to your husband.

Morpheus stood in his cage, his lean body stretching tall as he reached out toward the glass. Your tail and ears twitched, wide eyes watching Alex's gaze hold strong to Morpheus in all his power. He looked hypnotized by your husband's glory as he held his hand out. Just a little more, and you could leave this place forever.

"Don't do it, sir." You hissed at the guard, who ignored you as he continued to plead with Alex. "He'll kill us."

Alex didn't listen, a dopey grin spreading over his lips as he brought Morpheus closer to freedom.

"What would your father say?"

Alex stopped, returning his hand to his side as he returned to his sullen manner. He backed away from the glass, gripping onto reality once more. He tore his gaze from Dream, finding yours shortly after. "I need to think."

He began to walk away, headed toward the door to leave it all behind. A tiny huff left you as you sat, bowing your head in defeat.

~

It was late that night when Alex returned. You hardly realized it was him, laying limply on the ground as you mourned sleep. You didn't remember the last time you shut your eyes and dreamt.

Quiet, slow footsteps approached you, and you perked your ears slightly at the sound. When you felt cold fingers on your fur, you jumped to your feet and backed away, hissing and arching your back violently. Alex sat before you and frowned, his constant sorrow clear on his face as you swatted.

He knelt in front of you, his hands turned up in his lap to show surrender. "I won't hurt you…"

You stayed away but he watched your stance change as you watched him carefully. He moved slowly, his hands reaching toward you. You backed up as far as you could, once again tugging on the chains around your neck as you looked between him and Morpheus rapidly. "I'm not going to hurt you," Alex bid gently as he finally took the chain in his hand.

"Alex," one of the guards tried.

He just shook his head. "Please." The guard went quiet.

You froze and closed your eyes shut, your breath huffing out of your lungs in a fast, thick rhythm.

You heard the click of a lock.

You felt the weight around your neck lessen until it was no more.

Opening your eyes again, you looked over at Alex to see him holding the heavy metal collar in his hands.

You stayed there, still frozen in place as you stared, wide-eyed.

Alex took in the sight of you, grimy with dirt and blood, the fur around your neck thinner and slightly discolored with the rust of the chains. Snow white fur was now mud brown and copper red and mold green. Alex sighed.

He held his hand out again, and you flinched away from him as he tried to set his hands on your head. He dropped it back into his lap.

"I'm sorry…" he breathed. "For all of this. You don't deserve this—neither of you deserves this."

Still, you stayed. Alex could mistake you for a statue if he didn't know better.

"You can go."

"Alex–"

"Please," he said sternly. He turned to you again, "You're free to leave… I'm sorry."

You looked toward Dream, who watched closely. As you stood up straighter, testing the waters with movements slow and measured, you took a small step away. Then another. And then another.

When Alex made no move to stop you, you moved, to the best of your ability, away and toward your dear husband once more. You stared at him, mewing meekly.

You turned to Alex, who gave a regretful frown. You set a paw on the barrier. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry…" he said. "I'm sorry, I can't… I can't let him free, he'll kill us."

You propped up against the barrier, more insistent that time as flares of gold and white kept you from your beloved. You mewled.

Alex took a dragging step backward, shaking his head reluctantly. "No, I… I can't. I can't do it." He swallowed thickly as you got off the barrier and looked at him, meowing again in an attempt to persuade him again. To no avail.

"I'm sorry, I can't," he breathed. He looked down at his feet, avoiding Morpheus' dangerous gaze. "You should leave." Stepping back again, he turned around and left briskly with the shake of his head.

You huffed silently, turning to face your husband again with a sorrowful gaze. He leaned toward you, resting his forehead to the glass as he sighed. His eyes darted to the door and then back at you. You folded your ears back. He did it again, more insistent this time.

Leave, before you get hurt again.

You mewled, sitting to stare at him.

You heard the guards shift behind you, standing from their chairs as they groaned. One of the men spoke, muttering under his breath as though you could not hear him. "Fuck this. He's going to get us all killed." Then, in a lower voice, he whispered, "The Magus said kill it, so I'm going to kill it."

You heard him step forward, and then a protest from the other man. "It's a goddess."

"It's a cat." He scoffed, "Man up."

Dream gave the approaching man a hard glare, hoping to deter him and merely receiving a pause before he was walking again, trying to sneak up on you. Dream gave you a pleading look as you stayed there, staring at him remorsefully.

His lips cracked open and formed a single, silent word coming from deep within his soul as his eyes welled with tears.

Go.

Just as the guard came up behind you, lunging forward in an attempt to bring you into his clutches, you darted away. You ran and you ran and you ran, both men in pursuit as you escaped them with as much speed and strength as your weak body could muster, running on nothing but pain and adrenaline.

As you broke out into the world for the first time in a month, you had no time to smell the fresh air or feel the night sky on your fur. You ran and ran and kept running until you found yourself crossing the threshold of the Waking World and the Dreaming.

~

"My lady…"

A mumble sounded in your ears, a far away feeling fluttering over you as if your soul and your mind were not attached to your body.

"My lady."

Your awakening was violent, like being awoken by a gunshot or a million trumpets blaring in your ears. You shot up and tried to find steady ground in a world without. You kept slipping, not quite finding a grip on the plane you found yourself in.

"Calm, my lady," a voice beckoned. "Calm."

You looked over to see Lucienne, kneeling beside you with a face deep with worry. You hadn't seen her smile in some time.

You caught your breath, which you only just now realized was aching your lungs. A warm hand grabbed yours and you held on tight as you looked around yourself. Upon setting your sights on a world of black sand and sea, you sighed. Home. You were home.

"My lady," Lucienne's voice called your attention again. You turned toward her again, moving to stand, to brush the sand from your robes.

"What happened to you?"

You followed her gaze to your robes where you met the source of much of her concern. You were covered in dried blood and grime, your skin was discolored from the bruising…

You met her eyes again. "I…"

She sighed and offered a kind smile. "We should get you back to the castle. You've been missed…"

You nodded and walked with her toward the grand entrance of the kingdom. The doors opened, and you stepped through to see the kingdom far darker and far more desolate than you last left it.

You swallowed thickly as you walked with Lucienne, immediately noticing how much the population had dwindled. There were still plenty of Dreams and Nightmares running around, but there were also plenty you were missing.

Upon seeing you, faces lit up all around, deterred only when they soon noticed the tarnishing of your white robes. You kept waking, holding Lucienne's hand as you went.

Once in the shelter of the throne room, you collapsed at the foot of the stairs. You were still recovering, the wound was so fresh…

"My lady!" Lucienne exclaimed, coming to your side once more to sit next to you.

"I'm okay," you assured her, holding out a steady hand.

"What happened?" she asked again, more desperate this time for her queen.

"I…" You sighed to gather your thoughts, closing your eyes for a moment before finally replying. You were not used to talking much.

"I went to the manor again with… with Jessamy." You swallowed thickly. "We had come so close to freeing him but… but they killed her." Your fists clenched as the memory invaded your mind. She watched your face as you recalled it, far off and angry, your fingers brushing blood on your cheek. "They slaughtered her."

Lucienne looked away, the wheels turning in her head as she processed what you'd just told her. Jessamy was gone. She was dead. Lucienne would never see her again…

"I tried to run but they caught me…locked me in the cellar with him and," your eyes shut and you shook your head gently to be rid of the memory, "and abused me to hurt him."

"I'm sorry, my queen," Lucienne spoke gently, bowing her head.

"Burgess is dead."

She looked at you again, her gaze snapping toward you. "Is Lord Morpheus–"

"No." You cleared your throat. "His son let me go but is too afraid of Dream to set him free. I only barely got out before the guards were after me again."

Lucienne looked away thoughtfully, shaking her head in an attempt to take everything in. "My lady…" she sighed. "You should rest. You've been through…a lot."

You cleared your throat, looking at yourself again as you nodded. "Yes, you're right. I should." Again you nodded. "Alright."

You stood to your feet, peeling your robe off of you and standing in your gown. You turned to leave, stopping just at the beginning of a hall before turning toward her again. "Thank you, Lucienne… I missed you deeply."

"Of course, my lady," she smiled gently. You bowed your head in a gentle nod. She softened some more. "I missed you, too, Y/N."

A soft smile widened your lips just a smudge and you nodded again before turning to leave. You locked yourself in your bedroom and prepared your bath, sinking into the hot water and letting it remove the filth from your skin.

It wasn't until you were washed clean that you began to cry again.

~

It amazed you how quickly war could befall the world of man. How quickly human squabbles could grow into something so devastating.

You would have to leave again. Humanity could not survive without hope; and in a war, you were detrimental to that spark of life.

After taking time to recover—attempting and failing to mend some of the cracks in the Dreaming—you began to go back to the manor again to persuade Alex to set your husband free, to no avail. The guards still tried to hurt you and Morpheus still tried to get you to stop coming back for him.

You wept alone in the woods for a long time as you considered your choice, your duty.  You would have to leave him, and you don't know when you'd be back.

You just wanted to see him before you left, to look upon his face without the danger of being shot while you were in a vulnerable form.

As you walked into the house, dodging the residents who walked the halls for work or leisure, your steps were quick and silent as they always had been.

You found him in his study, the door cracked open as if beckoning you. You nudged the door with your body and ventured inside. His back was turned, hunched over his work.

You called his attention with a gentle mewl, looking up with more narrowed eyes. Alex turned and laid eyes on you. For a moment, you could see the flash of fear as he saw you, afraid you were going to hurt him.

But you just stared at him, unblinking and still.

"Hello," he said tentatively. "Um… if this is about him, I… Look, I don't want him here anymore than you do. But if I let him go… he could come after us. He could hurt me or-or Paul. I can't let him." He swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry."

You did nothing in response. Alex watched you stare at him. He sighed, "I don't know how to help you."

You turned your attention to a newspaper discarded somewhere in the room. The headline read "SECOND WORLD WAR BREAKS" in big, bold lettering.

His brows furrowed and he set down the pen he'd been holding in his hand. "What?" he asked. "I don't understand."

He heard a tiny huff come from you, frustrated that he hadn't put it together yet. You walked over to the paper, dragged it over to where you were sitting, and tapped on it repeatedly.

"Oh," he mumbled. "Oh."

Now he'd gotten it.

"I…I can't enlist. I wouldn't know the first thing."

You huffed louder this time. You shoved the paper closer and sat on it. You tilted your head expectantly, the closest you could get to a brow raise in this form.

"Oh, you have to go?" You curled your tail. "Of course… It's your job." You laid down, practically sighing your relief.

"Well," he mumbled, "you can go… I'm certainly not keeping you."

You yowled at him, losing your patience with his thick-headedness. You stood and circled your spot, pacing the entirety of the room with senseless noise before stopping at the door and sitting next to it. He felt like a toddler being scolded by a cross mother with the way you "spoke" to him.

He seemed to put it together, at least. "Oh… you want to see him."

You answered his question by walking out of the door. He stood and followed you, walking behind as you led the way to the cellar where your husband was being kept. He opened the creaking door to let you in.

The guards stood quickly at the sight of you, pointing their guns. You paid them no mind as you continued walking. Alex was quick to stop them. "No, don't shoot!" he exclaimed. "It's alright. Let her through."

They were confused by the order, but obeyed nonetheless. They sat back down, half-heartedly continuing their games and light chatter as Alex closed the door and sat by it, watching.

You locked eyes with Morpheus, continuing closer until you were forced to stop by the boundary spell set against you. You sat down and looked up at your husband, taking in the sight of him with sad eyes.

He looked back, seeming to read every single intent in your eyes as you watched one another. After a while, you saw a stray tear slipping down the apple of his cheek as his wet gaze bore into yours.

Your own fur was damp now as a tear slipped from your own eye, a mirror of him. You hated to leave him here, to go to aid in humanity's problems when it was humanity who stole your husband from you. But you knew you couldn't look at it that way. You were hope, and if you lost that in yourself, they would all be doomed.

So for hours you sat and stared at one another silently. For hours you memorized every little detail in Dream's face and imprinted it in your mind.

And all those hours would never be enough as you walked out of that room for the last time in the next ten years of war and recovery.

~

"How many are there?"

Lucienne walked at your side as you ventured slowly down the bridge leading to the palace. The realm's various colors and lusters had dulled. The stoney bridge was dark and desolate, cracking at the edges with patches of eroded rock. The fingers which curled around the bridge were deformed, a couple have fallen off and descended into the waters below.

You ran your hand over one with a sigh and the shake of your head. "Nearly half the residents have left since last you were here, ma'am," Lucienne reported.

"Half?" You turned to her with wide eyes, "Half the residents are gone?"

She nodded, "They feared you weren't returning either. If the Queen Mother leaves and the King isn't here to rule, there's no reason to stay. They felt as though the Dreaming was…an abandoned kingdom."

"They know about the war," you argued feebly. "They know it is my duty to tend to the humans in their times of need."

"And some went looking for you to aid so that they might bring you back when the job is done," she said. She blinked a few times and turned her gaze to the floor. "But…" 

"But?" you urged.

"Others weren't so sure."

You shook your head and sighed, continuing to walk faster down the bridge to get to the palace. The closer to the palace you got, the more Dreams and Nightmares you spotted. They must have been fleeing the outskirts of the crumbling realm where it was most dangerous. Upon your entry, you saw how much had been destroyed by their king and queen's absence.

"And what of the realm?" You said, going to some of the residents who approached you, relief in their faces. You gave a kind smile and cradled their grasps.

"The palace is the most intact thing there is. But the cracks are larger and many of the rooms have been closed off or have completely disappeared. Half the books in the library are either empty or their words are dissolving off the pages. Towns and villages have been abandoned. It's hardly safe for anyone anymore."

You set your hand against the castle doors, bowing your head and sighing before turning back to your faithful librarian. "Move the Dreams who have lost their homes into the palace. Those remaining may come as well at their leisure."

"Of course, my lady. Shall I gather the remaining books and search for any spells to free–"

"Magic won't work," you said, pushing open the doors to get to the throne room. You sat on the steps leading up to Dream's throne, your robe splaying out over the stairs. Lucienne could see the blue skies replaced with grey clouds darker than she last saw them.

"I've tried a hundred times and then another hundred times over." You set your face in your hands, "I have no power in that house, much less that cellar, while he's locked up as he is. He's trapped in, and I'm trapped out."

Lucienne thought for a moment, reaching a hand out in offering. "Well, hope–"

"Hope took three years last time. It will take longer this time. I can't do another gods-knows-how-long away from him," you said. You swallowed hard, wiping your face in your hand and urging the frustration out of you. "I haven't even seen him yet. I came straight here."

Lucienne tried to say something to help, but she had nothing. She shook her head, taking a step back. "I don't know what to do, my lady."

"Neither do I."

There was a long silence between the both of you as you thought about your next course of action. Your mind was slow, hazy from a decade of nonstop work. You could hardly think straight with ten years of no real sleep… well, longer than that without your Dream.

You sighed and stood to your feet. "I will rest for now. I need my strength. Tomorrow… I will call forth the Fates."

Lucienne's eyes widened in protest as she heard your plan. She stepped forward again, "The Fates? Are you sure that is a wise decision?"

"It's my last hope, Lucienne."

She paused at the desperation in her voice, bowing her head again as she let a sigh pass through her lips. She straightened her back and nodded once, her worry clear across her face. "Very well."

~

You walked through a meadow of flowers and fields, looking over the rising sun as the golden light gleamed against your skin. You stood there for another moment, taking in a deep breath of the fresh dew-filled air.

You shed your robe and began to shake it, wishing away the grey skies and dark clouds to bag the rising sun in your cloak with one grand sweep across the sky. As you set the robe back over your shoulders, you examined the symphony of pinks and yellows and blues with a gentle smile.

Sunrises and sets were promises of rebirth and new beginnings for every day and for every night, a promise of new hope. It was what the Fates required.

You swept your robes again and took to the skies, appearing upon a little cottage where wind chimes rang peacefully in the gusts of morning air. Since one could call upon the Fates with the coming of the wind, you could pluck the chimes from the porch to offer to them. It was what the Fates required.

With two of three items collected, you could move on to the final prize.

You stood in another meadow, one erupting with more colorful growth than the last as a cacophony of flowers fluttered with the kisses of butterfly wings. You looked over the creatures with smiles before opening your robes. They swarmed around you in moments, disappearing in flocks of color into the sunrise in your cloak. Butterflies were symbols of transformation and hope throughout time. It was what the Fates required.

You let your robes fall over your form again, turning toward one of the trees. There are chrysalises hanging onto a branch, cocooned in their catalysts. You wrapped your fingers around it, filling it with a piece of your magic before breaking it off the tree. You brushed your finger over one of the leaves and set the branch back in your coat.

And again, you were gone. As you set your feet over the growth of a field of black grass, you looked around for a moment.

"I, Lady Y/N, Goddess of Hope and Transformation, summon The Fates...the Three-Who-Are-One, the One-Who-Is-Three. The Hecate."

A rumble of thunder rolled in the sky as you directed your gaze. A strike of lightning flashed before you saw them. You could still hear the faint melody of the wood chimes as you laid eyes upon the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone.

They descended their gazes upon you as they took you in for the first time in many, many years.

"Y/N…" the Mother began, "How have you been, luvvy?"

The Maiden added, "How're the humans treating you?"

"How's the husband treating you?" the Crone asked.

"Now, sister-self," the Mother scolded with a smile on her face. "You know the answer to that."

The Crone chuckled lightly, turning back to you as she tilted her head, "I suppose you've come for your husband?"

You smiled, despite the annoyance you felt for her jest. "Surprise," you said. "Ever the wisest."

"What is it, dear?" the Maiden kindly inquiried.

You nodded gently. "I do hope you can offer the help I require."

"Well, what are we here for?" The Mother grinned, holding her hands out between her sister-selves.

"We do, it seems," the Maiden began, "hold a debt…"

"But you brought us gifts anyway." The Crone's smile seemed always shifty to you as she pointed her eyes toward your cloak.

You directed your smile toward her, opening your robes and allowing your gifts to jump out, offering them up to the Fates. The butterflies swarmed chaotically around the women, curling around the forms, until they settled in the Maiden's skin with their butterfly kisses.

The sunrise slipped from your robes and seeped into the sky like a great painting. The last butterfly landed against the Maiden's nose, fluttering its wings before laying them flat against her face. It seeped into her cheeks, the patterns of its wings turning into freckles against her skin.

The Mother smiled, "You may ask us three questions, and you shall have one answer from each of us."

"Thank you, ladies," you smiled. "My first question. My husband has been trapped for 33 years, will he be free?"

A vision of Dream in his captivity flashed before you as the Maiden's voice filled your ears.

"Lord Morpheus will walk freely again upon the Dreaming and the Earth." You watched Dream's eyes open, his intense gaze glinting back at you. "You will see your husband free again, his captivity is not an eternal one."

You turned back to her, desperation filling you all-too suddenly. "When?"

"Come now, dear," she chuckled. "One question. You know this."

"Of course," you sighed, offering a smile. "My apologies. For my second question, I need to know: is there a spell that I could use to set him free?"

You saw visions of the gold bindings trapping your husband, the spell you analyzed over and over again to try and come up with a counter-spell, all in vain.

The Mother spoke, "The magic set against you is strong. Unfortunately, it's strong enough to thwart your temperament, even with how powerful you are."

You sighed and shook your head. "Of course," you mumbled. You straightened your back again, "For my last question… The Dreaming is crumbling, how can I save it without my husband's power?"

The meadow you had just come from combined with the sunrise you collected in your robe. Butterflies flew around you as they perched on the flowers in the field.

"You are a symbol of hope and change," the Crone said. "To maintain the Dreaming's powers, hearts must have hope and minds must be changed."

Straight to the point, as always.

You offered a smile, nodding gently. "Thank you, dear Fates."

They tilted their heads, chuckling lightly. "Until next time, lady goddess."

They left you to a sunset, a couple of butterflies flitting around the space as you pulled the branch from your robes. "That was helpful," you muttered, cradling the branch.

"Well," Lucienne walked forward, her hands behind her back, "the Fates have never been the most helpful beings." You sighed, handing the cocoons to Lucienne. "What about these?" she questioned as she held them in a tender grip.

"Those were not for the Fates." You walked with her by your side. "These are for the Dreaming. The people need hope." You looked at her, "If they survive as the Dreaming falls, we shall have it."

~

Too many years had passed since your husband was captured. Alex still refused to let him go until he promised not to do them harm. You could not do anything to help. You just stalled around the house in hopes of stumbling upon an answer. It was the only thing that seemed to be worth it.

Nearly all the residents of the Dreaming were gone. As the world crumbled, so did their last hope that you or Dream would come through.

The cocoons never hatched. They sat idly by in the castle. You were clinging to the words the Fates had told you as a century without Morpheus passed.

"You will see your husband free again…"

It was the last hope you had left. You couldn't give up.

You sat under the crumbling ceiling of the castle, your head resting against your arms as you pulled your legs to your chest.

It had been a particularly hard day for you. You walked along the Dreaming, taking in the new damage and found that your decaying garden had disappeared completely. It was one of the only things that had remained mostly intact, something you and Morpheus had built together after you were married. Now it was gone.

You were fading, your last ounce of hope shriveling up like your garden. Your tears stained your sleeves as you wiped your face, sniffling quietly.

But then you felt a strange shift in the air that made you feel… something. A feeling akin to pure elation.

You flew back to the Waking World with a speed you hadn't breached in a very long time. You nearly stumbled onto your feet when you shifted again, taking off running toward the manor as you felt the pull growing quickly.

The humans who spotted you in the hall weren't paid nearly as much to care, it seemed, as they let you pass without more protest than a little call of annoyance.

You rushed into the cellar, hissing at the guns pointed at you. Their attention was stolen as glass shattered, a bright shine blinding the guards as they shielded their hands, shouting over the howling of the wind.

Morpheus climbed out of the remains of the dome, lean body maneuvering easily. "Oi! Show me your hand!" One of the guards yelled as Dream balled his fist.

He raised his hand to his face and took a deep breath. A gust of sand flew out from his hand, surrounding the guards in his magic. They fell to the ground as sleep overtook them.

You stood there, eyes wide, chest rising and falling out of breath as you gazed at him. You shifted, a soft glow emanating from your body as your white robes settled over your body once more.

"Morpheus," you whispered, eyes glistening with tears full of rejoice.

The smile that took his face was utterly breathtaking. He held a hand to you, beckoning you closer with his own tear-filled eyes.

"My love."

You rushed into his arms. As soon as your bodies collided, his own dark robes materialized over his. He held you closely, practically crushing you to his chest as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. His hand cradled the back of your head as you huffed out a long, shuddering breath at the feeling of finally holding your husband again.

He pulled you closer still, swaying gently as you enveloped him in all your warmth and love. "At long last," he breathed, nestling deeper into your neck.

"My husband," you sighed as you allowed your tears to freely spill. "I missed you so much. I'm sorry I could not set you free. I tried so hard, it never worked."

"Shh," he whispered. He pulled you back to look at you. "Do not fret anymore, my darling wife." His voice washed over you like honey, soothing you as you finally heard it for the first time in over a century. You melted against him.

"I have something I must do before we return," he breathed, cradling your head still before leaning in and pressing his lips to your forehead, his eyes closed shut and his heart full. "Wait for me?"

You nodded, pulling away from him and cradling his face in your hands. You brushed your thumbs over his cheeks, under his bottom lashes. How wonderful it felt to have him in your hands again. You brought him back down to your forehead and nodded a second time. "Always."

His tangible form slipped in your hands, and you turned to look at the cellar you would soon be abandoning forever. You knelt down next to the two guards lying on the floor, lost in a terrible dream, you assumed. Laying your fingers against their foreheads, you pressed against their temples as you exercised your will, a will you would soon place upon the rest of the house.

You would not kill those who worked under Burgess, but you could not let them roam free for what they did to you, to your husband. They'd stripped you of so much over the last century, the very fiber of your being brought into question with the creeping slivers of doubt that you would never see Morpheus free again.

That was what you would do. Replicate the hurt, the lost, the pain and suffering. As you let the heartbreak of the last century consume you, it embedded itself in the house like a plague, seeping into every corner and taking over every life that they would be cursed to be without hope for as long as they lived.

And when Morpheus returned to his last deal of business with Alexander Burgess, he took your hand and returned with you to the Dreaming.

~

"Morpheus," you whispered, cradling his head in your lap as he lay in the black sand. "My love, wake up."

You heard shuffling in the sand and looked up as you saw Lucienne rushing over. "Sir!" She exclaimed. "Sir!"

You beamed as you beckoned her closer. She knelt down in the sand beside him. She offered her hand as he took in a breath, his eyes slowly cracking open to reveal the both of you.

"Sir, it's me," she smiled. "It's Lucienne."

He smiled, slow and soft as he saw her, his faithful librarian. "Lucienne."

"You're home," she beamed, looking between the two of you as you lay there, finally reunited.

"I am." He grabbed her hand as the both of you helped him to his feet. He looked toward the doors which lead to his kingdom, his realm of dreams. He raised his hand, willing them to open and reveal what lay beyond them.

You could feel a pit in your stomach rising at the idea of him seeing what his realm had become. You took his hand, squeezing it gently and looking at him with pleading eyes. "Dream…"

He tilted his head, turning to you as he placed his free hand against your cheek. "What is it?" he asked gently.

Before you could reply, Lucienne was speaking for you. "Forgive me, sir, but… the realm, the palace," she said, "...they are not as you left them."

He turned his head and looked upon his desolate realm as the gates finally opened to reveal it to him, a kingdom turned to ash and rubble. Silence and despair stuck to every corner, every dark shadow cast over the land.

"What happened here?" he breathed sorrowfully. "Who did this?"

You sighed heavily, shaking your head as you stared at the perishing castle. "We tried. I tried to stop it, but I wasn't strong enough…"

Lucienne spoke up again, "My lord, you are the Dreaming, the Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to… decay and crumble."

"When I first returned two years after you'd been taken, there were only a few cracks in the foundation. It took three years to mend myself," you began, kneeling down beside a few stray blades of grass that drooped low with scarce life. "When I left for the second time… nearly half the realm had been destroyed."

He took in this information with a frown, his eyes pricking with tears at what he learned. "And the residents? The palace staff?"

Lucienne sighed, "I'm afraid most have gone."

"Gone?"

"Some went looking for you, sir. Some looked for your lady while she was away at war, and then off again when she was caught by Burgess."

"And the others?"

"They thought, perhaps," she tread lightly with her words, "you'd grown weary of your duties and–"

"What?" Morpheus questioned, unbelieving of such an idea. "Abandoned them? Had they so little faith in me, even with my wife here to uphold it? Do my own subjects not know me?"

Lucienne jumped in, adjusting the glasses on the tip of her nose to sit further on the bridge. "If I may, sir. It wouldn't be the first time one of the Endless had just–"

"Enough."

"Morpheus," you whispered, taking his hand again.

"I will not have Dreams and Nightmares preying on the Waking World," he declared. "I will bring them all back. I made this realm once, Lucienne. I will make it again."

He began his trek through the realm as the both of you lingered at the door. You shared a look with your librarian, taking her offered arm and walking with her behind him.

During the walk, you watched as Morpheus' hand flexed at his side, like it was hurting him. He glanced over his shoulder at you, a gleam in his eyes that made your heart jump in your chest. You stepped forward again and took his hand, pressing yourself into his side. Oh, how good it felt to be within his embrace.

~

You finally managed to steal him away for a moment to have him to yourself. You pulled him into the hall, holding his hand tightly. Despite the grimness of his surroundings, your presence alone seemed to put a smile on his face—a sad smile, but a smile nevertheless.

You looked back at him over your shoulder, seeing his lovestruck grin as he watched you. You paused in front of a door, hand on the handle, and chuckled lightly. The kingdom was crumbling, but you would always be as radiant as the sun.

"What?" you wondered aloud.

He stepped forward and into your personal space—not that it ever existed with him. He took your face in his hands and stroked his thumbs over your cheeks. You grabbed his wrists, returning the favor over his pulse. You smiled longingly at him.

"I've missed you dearly," he breathed against your lips.

You sighed, "And I, you." Your smile fell slightly as you stared into his star-filled eyes. "I'm sorry for not taking better care of the Dreaming. I could have avoided this."

He shook his head to silence you, leaning in even closer without yet pressing his lips to yours. "You did not disappoint me. You had nothing to do with any of this. I know you did everything within your power with Lucienne to fix this. Do not place blame where none is due. You are alright, my Y/N."

How you've missed his voice as he spoke to you in his low, velvety tones. His eyes glistened like magical waters, as if they were ponds swimming with stars.

"Will you kiss me, Dream?" you asked, gaze glued to his own.

He smiled, his eyes shifting between yours and your parted lips. "I thought you'd never ask."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your own, cradling the back of your head as he pulled you close. His lips molded against yours and consumed you with love and care and hope. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you tasted his kiss for the first time in over a century.

The both of you pulled away, lingering so close that all it would take was a little nudge, and you'd be kissing him again. Your lips tingled as you slowly allowed your eyes to open. He stared at you longingly.

"I love you," he spoke breathlessly, as if it was taking his entire soul to say those words to you, and even that wasn't enough.

You beamed, and it was like an arrow to the heart as he watched your beauty unfold. "I love you, too," you told him. "More than you truly know."

He leaned in to kiss you once again, only giving pause when you both heard the sound of the door clicking open. You turned your head toward the door next to you, setting your hand on the knob. While he would normally stop you, afraid of you being hurt, this was his realm. Broken or not, nothing here would harm you.

You pushed it open slowly, only to yelp when a strange swarm burst from the door. You looked around you at the kaleidoscope of butterflies surrounding the two of you as he held you close. You both stared in awe as the beautiful creatures flapped their gorgeous wings about you.

"They hatched," you gasped. "They've been dormant for nearly eighty years, and they hatched." You sighed, watching them. "They're beautiful." You stared at the butterflies, eyes wide with wonder. Morpheus' gaze turned back to you, gluing onto the star-struck smile on your face.

Never, throughout all his lives, had he ever seen anything with more beauty than his darling wife. Sometimes he felt like a thief when he thought of you, like he'd stolen you all for himself so he would never have to share with the rest of the world. Never once did he ever feel ashamed by it. Because you were his, and he was yours, and he loved you more than anything in every world.

His face softened, and his eyes glittered with gentle tears. "Yes," he breathed. "Beautiful."

The Sandman taglist: @poetic-fiasco @the-nerdy-goddess @life-on-needs @fanreader @jamiethenerdymonster @sarahbullet235 @majestyjade @melinoe-the-rat @katsukis1wife @sugakookieswithacupoftae16 @hatterripper31 @kplatzman Dreamers taglist: @meg-the-second-greatest @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @gortycs @octo-octopie @damianodavidhands @alexxavicry @rosaren2498 @sayumiht @jaritzaflores94 @evabalexeeva @cl-0-vr

[fatuismooches]

Hello! Just dropping in with another silly question but what are dinner dates looking like with Zandik and the segments? Like if fragile reader was slowly getting better and decided to enjoy a little dinner date with one of the segments each, some not even going out but rather in a private dinning room within the place.

Though it sounds unbelievable to many, there's quite often a segment with you for meals, due to various reasons (shaky hands, lack of appetite/motivation, etc). Of course, over time their presence becomes less and less as you become healthier, however, it is certainly not what one calls a "date." Most of the time it's pretty much just you eating in peace while the segment attends to whatever work he needs to do while simultaneously keeping an eye on you. Which is why you wanted to change that up a bit, both you and your beloveds deserved a small break.

I don't think you would actually go anywhere with any of them. Both of you probably prefer being in the comfort of the lab much more (and also the effort of going out and dressing up and all... so much work... but here you can drag them to bed to cuddle right after! Yeah, is the lab kinda dreary and boring? Maybe, but you can spice it up! And it's the person in front of you that matters, after all.)

It'd be a pain to get Zandik himself to do this, he's always busy and locked up in his lab doing research and work... and furthermore, he barely eats... when he does, he does it too quickly and doesn't even savor the food properly, just so he can get back to experiments quicker. That's not proper for a dinner date! Not sure how you'd convince him, not very easy. Even if you do, it would be quite rushed and probably not what you wanted.

It would be a very special occasion whenever an actual dinner happens. Even though you two would have a lot of a lot of time, he would find it difficult to sit and simply eat for so long. He thinks of his segments and their work. However, just keep your hand placed on his and try to divert his attention. Getting him to start ranting about his projects is pretty easy. Once he gets into the atmosphere, he seems to forget this is a dinner date rather than a chatting one (still eats the cold food like it's no problem).

It's easier to get the segments to do this, mostly because they're vying for your attention as they don't get much from you sometimes...

Omega is by far the most suave with it. He wipes your face when you have something near your mouth, and he helps you recover from joking when he says something that makes you embarrassed. Also forces you to eat the vegetables. Webttore, well, it's pretty chaotic. The "romantic" aspect of a dinner date is lost on him. Be prepared to defend your dessert against him, he will try and take it. The Akademiya segment wouldn't have much of a taste for a good dinner, having become used to hardly edible stuff, but he would appreciate it the most if you cooked for him. His notes are always present at dinner, something that reminds you of being a student with him four hundred years ago. Of course, he'll let you read them if that's what you wish. (Please engage in intellectual conversation with him about them.)

The only segment that you can have an actual dinner with every day really is little Zandy. The conversation is always sweet and fun when you're with the child. However, sometimes you need to remind him to eat before the food gets cold or not to speak with his mouth full...

[valleyfae]

lee bodecker as a dad? 🥹🙏🏻

“Aww,” Lee huffs as your sweet little girl launches herself into her father’s open arms. “Hi baby girl, Daddy missed ya.”

Lee engulfs Cecelia — or as you and Lee call her, Cece — in his arms, propping the four-year-old on his hip, he ducks his head and makes his way into the cozy home you two have created.

The sweet scent of cherry pie floods the kitchen when you look up to find your husband cradling your daughter and grinning at her giddily chirping about her day.

Lee finds your eyes and gives you a soft smile of admiration. His pale blue eyes, glimmering sapphires holding an abundance of compassion.

“And! And! After I read, I helped Mama cook and make your pie!” Cece beams with pride.

Finally reaching the kitchenette, Lee kneels and places Cece back down. “I’m so prouda ya, honey. Just so sweet to your Daddy, ain’t ya?” Lee pecks her forehead. “How ‘bout you go and set the table now so we can eat?”

Hastily nodding, she chirps a ‘Yes, sir’ and skips off, leaving you and Lee to yourselves.

Lee grunts, standing up and smirking. “Hi, sugar.” He sneaks his hands tightly around your waist, withholding your capability to respond by pressing his flushed pink lips to yours.

Sinking into Lee’s warm, towering embrace, you reciprocate the kiss, slow like honey, as you savor the taste of your husband before you pull away, coyly grasping the collar of Lee’s button-up.

“Hi, Sheriff,” you reply, looking up at Lee with a sheepish smile. “How was work?”

“Nothin’ new. Was thinkin’ bout the beautiful wife of mine all day.” Lee cups your cheek, deliberately scanning you up and down, his grin evolving into an alluring smirk.

Taking in your cream-colored dress and the frill-trimmed apron that hugs your waistline, Lee groans under his breath. He briskly dips down for another kiss, which is abruptly interrupted by an impatient Cece tugging on his trousers.

“Alright, alright. Daddy’s comin’.” Lee chuckles, pressing one last kiss to your lips before following Cece to the table.