#changed the entire makeup of the atmosphere | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingsbychlo · 3 months ago

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LOSE YOUR INHIBITIONS

mattheo riddle & theodore nott | 8.1k

your boyfriend thought it would be fun to play a game of hide and seek only knowing one another's costumes. neither of you anticipated the mix-up of someone else wearing the same mask, or the thrilling events that follow.

note: happy hallowe'en, angels! you knew me and @theostrophywife would never leave you hanging on this special day, right? enjoy xo

Accepting the shot presented to you at the door, Fred Weasley delivered the vial with a charming grin. With a flick of his wrist, the door to the Gryffindor common room opened, letting the sounds of the party spill out from within. It was raging already, though this was no surprise, as the parties the twins threw had always been legendary.

Swirling the sparkling liquid around inside the tube, it flickered in iridescent shades as the flashing lights from within rippled through it, and a smirk tugged on your painted lips. It smelled like sugared cherries and vanilla, a mouthwatering and tempting combination. Bringing it to your lips, you let the flavour wash over you, like silk as it ran down your throat dangerously smoothly.

This party had been all anyone could talk about for the past two weeks, since the infamous Weasley pair had finally revealed the theme for this year's Hallowe’en bash. A masquerade party, hence the broken doll makeup that covered the right side of your face, but that hadn't been enough to satisfy the pair. No, rather than stop there, they’d gone on to craft themselves a potion of their own imagining, one that began to leave the edges of your vision blurring in a perfect kind of haze, and you placed the empty tube back down onto the tray in his hand.

“How’s it feel?” Fred grinned, red hair shining under the low lights as you blinked away the fuzziness in the edges of your vision. It was then, as you stared a moment longer, that the recognition of a face you’d known for almost a decade slipped your mind entirely.

“Oh… wow.”

“Recognise me?” He chuckled, handing a couple of vials to a group of giggling girls who passed you by, none of whom you now found you could place the identity of. Even the timbre of his voice sounded distorted and different as you processed it, knowing what he normally sounded like.

“I only know it’s you because… well, because we've been talking. I have no idea who just walked past.” You murmured, a pleasant tingling spreading through your body, slipping away any anxieties and worries. Only warmth and excitement were left in its wake.

“Didn’t we tell you to arrive with your friends, hm? Good luck finding anyone in there.” Fred tutted teasingly, motioning for you to go inside, and you hummed your acknowledgement as you walked into the party.

The floors vibrated under your feet, making you wonder just how many other students they’d had to coerce into helping cast the charms keeping this party a secret from the professors. Enchanted lights refracted and bounced around the expanded common room space, changing colours and leaving patterns streaking the darkened atmosphere.

Upon entering the main room, the heavy base of the music shook you so hard it rocked all the way up into your stomach with every step you took, and bodies filled every space in the room. Dancing, talking, laughing, playing games, drinking. They’d thought of it all, and you made your way slowly over to the drinks table to fill yourself up a cup with the spiced elf wine you were so fond of this time of year.

Some people milled around in groups, clinging to those whose identities they knew, while others boldly adventured and mingled in the freedom of anonymity. With a cursory glance across the crowds, all of the faces and voices around you blurred away before you could properly identify them. People you’d known for years were strangers to you for the night, and the spike of adrenaline it caused felt light lightning.

With a twist in your stomach, and another gulp of wine, the music beat as your feet guided you through the throngs of people, beginning the search for a familiar mask.

Mattheo hadn't told you when he’d arrive, only that it would be after you.

Originally planning to arrive together, your boyfriend had thought it all the more amusing to turn the night into a thrilling game for the pair of you. You were only given the knowledge of what his mask looked like; something he’d picked up at a Muggle costume store to ensure nobody else would be wearing the same thing.

The black and white details were burned into your mind, and yet, every face you passed wasn’t what you were looking for. After completing your first lap of the party, you’d found yourself situated in a new corner. With a heady mixture of wine and adrenaline buzzing through your bloodstream, you tapped your fingers against your thigh in anticipation.

The second lap you took of the room resulted in much the same way. Though, this time, it had certainly taken longer. The dance floor had long since been overflowed, the groups, couples and solo dancers for the night had spilt out to fill almost half of the room. Grinding, swaying, twirling, you’d become caught up with different people at least three times, as the atmosphere of the party swept you away. Laughing, flushed cheeks, you finally stumbled from the masses and back into the rest of the room.

More people had arrived since you had first started the hunt of your game, and you had no doubt now that he was in here somewhere, waiting for you to find him. No mask fit, no costume was right, and you’d done almost three laps of the room before you spotted him.

Hours had melted by, you were sure of it, but suddenly it all felt like nothing as you spotted the masked man standing across the room.

Tall, dressed impeccably in all black, and breathing out smoke from under the edge of the mask as he passed a cigarette around the group of boys he was standing with. His head tipped back as he laughed, and as you saw the mask you had memorised, you were sure of it.

Slipping over, you made sure to skirt around the edges of the group, delighting in the squeal you involuntarily let loose when his head turned in your direction. Though you couldn't see his eyes beneath the mask, you could feel his sights locked onto your own, and for a moment, it felt like the breath was trapped in your lungs.

Tall, imposing, terrifying. You bit your lip, waving your fingers at him, and watching his lips twist into a smirk, before he was handing off the cigarette in his hands, and waving back. Crooking a finger to beckon him closer, those long legs carried him until he stood before you, the smell of smoke and spiced whiskey rolling off of him and covering your senses.

“Well, hello there.” You whispered, hands reaching out to settle on his arms as you took a small step forward. Trailing your hands along his sleeves, your fingers brushed against the embroidery on his cuff, and your smile widened at confirmation under your fingertips of the sewing you’d put there.

“Hello, doll.” He mused, humoured by his own joke, and you rolled your eyes gently, taking his hands in your own, and tugging him towards the dance floor.

“Come on, I’ve been waiting all evening to dance.”

“Have you now?” He rolled his lower lip through his teeth, watching your hips move as you led him to a space you’d be able to occupy enough to move amongst the bodies. “And what have you been waiting for?”

“The right partner, of course.” Happy with the spot you’d found, you looped your arms around his neck, stepping into your boyfriend’s space a lot more, and his hands slid down your sides to settle on your hips. “Glad I finally found you.”

“Found me, indeed.” He mumbled, his forehead coming down to rest on your own, and a happy sigh slipped from your lips. You couldn't see much beyond the black-out eyes of the mask, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t need to, instead, you turned your back to him and pressed yourself into his chest, pulling his arms around you in the same way you always did.

Swaying together in harmony, your head rolled back to sit on his shoulder, the words to the songs happily flowing from your lips as your hips ground against your boyfriend’s. Hands wandered, weak groans and ghosts of his breath along your neck were exchanged for your giggles.

Where one game ended, a new one arose, a game of push and pull as you danced together. Pressing your arse back into his crotch, he returned the force, the outline of him pressing through his jeans to display his interest, and his arms tightened around you.

“You’re confident, hm?” He teased, both hands dropping to your thighs, nails skating over your skin in a new and delicious way that made you shiver. When he reached the edge of your dress, his fingertips barely dipped below, before opting to toy with the fabric instead and slip away.

“You love it.” Came your response, guiding one of his hands a little further up your body, skimming it over your breast tantalisingly before bringing your joined hands up, raised in the air to sway to the song. His laughter was warm and contagious, and time seemed to melt away once again as you sank into his embrace.

At some point, he had tugged up the edge of his mask, his mouth descending upon your neck to kiss and lick and bite, drawing moans and whimpers from your lips. When dancing had grown tiresome for you both, you’d slipped back to the drinks table, laughing your way through a shot of Gigglewater each, before finding your way to one of the more secluded couches in the darker corners of the room.

Now, your mouth was on his neck, marking his skin with red lipstick prints as one of his hands continued to grip your hips, allowing you to roll your core ever so slowly over the growing bulge in the front of his jeans. His other hand was splayed across one of your breasts, squeezing slowly as he panted, pulse racing under your lips.

“(Y/n)?” A voice broke you from your reverie, and you nibbled on the sweet spot on his neck.

“Yeah, Matty?” You whispered, believing the call to have come from the man underneath you. However, when he stiffened, so suddenly and harshly it was like he’d turned to stone, you pulled back. Your brows furrowed, you couldn't see what was wrong with his mask on, and you were reaching to remove it when you became aware of the other figure, standing behind the couch.

With a gasp as you observed his almost identical attire, your heart felt for a moment like it stopped beating. In what you were sure would’ve looked almost comical in any other situation, you looked dumbly between the two matching masks.

A soberingly cold bolt of shock sliced through you as you looked up, finding another tall, impeccably-clad man in all black standing behind the couch on which you were currently straddling Mattheo on. Or, thought you were, but now, as you took in the identical mask on his face, doubt began to creep in. The second man crossed his arms, legs widening in eerily familiar body language.

A sick feeling twisted in your stomach as you pulled back, pushing the man beneath you away by his shoulders. His neck was shining from the hickeys you had been enthusiastically marking his neck with. No matter how hard you tried, however, you couldn't place the features of either, recognition dancing just out of reach within your mind, and you let slip a frustrated growl.

“Matty?” You whispered, and the man underneath you somehow stiffened further, a feat you’d thought impossible, as the one standing squared his shoulders and seemed to grow angrier through stance alone.

“That would be me, sweetheart.” The one standing ground out through his teeth, voice so cold it made you feel like the temperature in the room had dropped. Springing up from the couch, you shook your head, feeling as though the whole world had just been tipped upside down. You had no chance to process it, as the intruder voiced the question also on your mind, “What the fuck is going on?”

“I found you! I found the mask!” An uncomfortable feeling raced through your body, heart pounding in your chest. As you rubbed at the place it thumped so hard, trying to escape, he seemed to soften a little. “I was so sure! Fuck, this stupid game—”

The flashing lights were too much, the noise and the people and the complete lack of awareness were all too much, and you stumbled for the exit. The moment you were out of the party and alone in the corridors, it was like you could breathe again. Gasping cold breaths into your lungs, you found yourself in silence, the charms working perfectly to contain the secrecy of the party, the only noise was your heaving breaths and the sound of your heart pumping.

Pressing your back into the cool stone of the wall, you tugged off the mask on your face, shaky fingers dropping it to the ground as the balls of your hands pressed to your eyes, just trying to think.

Then, like a whoosh of warmth and a burst in the tranquillity of the corridor, a body slammed into the stone beside you, a groan slipping free as the breath left his lungs. The mask was still on his face, covering his identity, not that you’d be able to tell who it was even if it was gone, but you could recognise Mattheo by default now. He’d taken off his mask, his features swimming just outside of your consciousness like in a dream, but those flattened curls, and the chain around his neck, it was no doubt.

“Someone better start explaining what the fuck is going on.” Mattheo hissed, brown eyes growing a little more familiar the longer you looked at them, filled with both rage and vulnerability.

“I-I was so sure, Matty! I checked the sleeve and everything, I’m sorry.” The man whom you now knew to be your boyfriend was wearing a black t-shirt only, and you fumbled for the stranger’s sleeve, tugging the left one forward and tracing your finger over the embroidered initials that you had sewn into every shirt, jumper and tee he owned.

Mattheo gripped the stranger's wrist in a far tighter hold than you had, yanking him forward to inspect the markings on the sleeve, and silent confusion settled between the three of you. Seconds ticked past in what felt more like hours, and then, Mattheo groaned in frustration, dropping the man’s wrist and raking his hand through his curls instead. He turned, kicking the wall on the opposite side of the corridor.

“Fucking potion, I don’t even know who the fuck you are! You’ve got my sweater, I mean, what is this, a set-up?” With a swing, his open palm slammed down on the rock on the side of the stranger’s head, Mattheo’s unfamiliar features close enough to the stranger that he’d smell the whiskey on your boyfriend’s breath. “What to do with you now, huh? When I kick the shit out of you for kissing my girlfriend, I want to know exactly who I’m hitting.”

“I’ll tell you.” The stranger croaked, and Mattheo let out a dry laugh as he backed away.

“And I’m supposed to just trust you, huh?”

You swallowed thickly, fingers gripping your ribs as your arms wrapped around yourself, unprepared for the answer, whether it was the truth or not. More silence ticked by, so many moments that your skin pebbled with goosebumps in the chill, and you rubbed your arms for warmth in the cold castle corridors.

Eventually, the stranger balled his shaking hands, and cursed under his breath in a language you recognised immediately. Italian. Your next inhale caught painfully in your throat as realisation struck before he’d even begun to speak. “I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean for this or happen. I—”

Shoes scuffled against the floor, and then Mattheo had him by the collar of his sweater, backed to the wall once again as his fist reared back for the swing—

“It’s Theo!”

Mattheo’s punch halted, the impact of stopping so suddenly rippling along his body, and his tension faltered. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?” He implored, tugging off his mask at last, to reveal the same blurred, dreamlike features, but a recognisable head of golden-brown hair. “I can explain, I swear. Can you just put your fist down for a second?”

Reaching out, he placed a hand over Mattheo’s, lowering it slowly, and you crept forward to wrap your own hands around Mattheo’s, sliding his fist open to slip your fingers between his. He squeezed back fiercely, angrily. But, then, he lifted your hand up to his mouth, and kissed the back of your hand in a gesture you knew so well, all while glaring at ‘Theo’.

“Look, I didn’t have a costume. It’s stupid, I wasn’t planning on coming to the party at all, but I changed my mind.” With another nervous breath, you rubbed your thumb over Mattheo’s, feeling him tense and release over and over again as bursts of anger shot through him. “You were in the shower and your mask was hanging on the back of the door, so I just used a Geminio on yours. I grabbed the first pair of black jeans and a sweater I could find, I didn’t think you’d mind, we share clothes all the time! I’m sorry.”

Mattheo took a deep breath and another. And another.

His head tipped back to stare at the ceiling, and blue eyes that ticked at being familiar found yours, “I’m sorry, bella. I didn’t mean for all this to happen. I figured you two would show up together, and…”

“It was a game.” You finally croaked out, voice sore from holding back tears. “It was just a stupid game, I thought I found Matty but it was you.”

“I should’ve asked for your name. But, the potion and my inhibitions…”

“How does this even happen, Theo? Are you such a slut you were just letting a girl grind on you when you didn’t even know her name?” Mattheo jabbed, but the heat of rage was gone from his words, and instead lingered a desperation for some kind of explanation.

“Yes, apparently, I am!” Theo slapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late now. The potion, the weed, the whiskey, it was all mixing, and Theo had always been a chatterbox when intoxicated. “Cazzo, she’s so fucking hot, mate! I didn’t want to stop and ask questions, I just wanted to get my hands on her and—” His words disintegrated into a gurgled choke as Mattheo once again pinned him to the wall, this time with a hand on his throat.

His fingers flexed, and with a ragged swear he released the grip he had on Theo, allowing him to speak once again.

“Mattheo, you have to let me go.”

“Why?” Your boyfriend demanded, even as his hand loosened a fraction more. No matter how angry he was, you all knew he was incapable of hurting Theo. Mattheo would sooner injure himself than someone he loved, and Theo fell squarely into that category. “Why should I?”

“Because you’re not going to hurt me, we both know that,” Theo said gently, and Mattheo growled in a threat that scared nobody. “It’s not our fault. We were laced with a potion, a potion that is still very much in my system and blurring my boundaries. I was already hard as fuck, and this is really turning me on. Please let me go before this gets any more embarrassing for all of us.”

Your eyes widened, much like Mattheo’s, and Theo smirked a little at the shock he’d managed to inflict. “What?”

“Merde, since it’s clear that I’m not getting fucked tonight, and blue balls are setting in, could you kindly let me go, before I cream myself from your choking, Mattheo?” Theo hissed, his fingers wrapping around the wrist of the hand now merely sitting like a warm presence on his throat.

Mattheo considered it for a second, two, three. A whole new kind of tension lingered in the air, and his hand slipped down from Theo’s throat to his shoulder instead. He turned to look at you, his gaze finding your own, a questioning heat swirling in them that you knew all too well. Mattheo wanted it. That kind of burning desire was something you were intimately familiar with, as was his secret wish to fuck his best friend. He’d wanted it long since before the two of you had gotten together, and he’d confided it in you early on. You’d discussed the possibility before, sure, but Theo had never been unattached, or the timing had never been right. You’d never dared cross such a line before. Now, the line was all but obliterated anyway, might as well proceed without caution.

With a small nod, excitement lit up Mattheo’s face in replacement of dark anger.

“Who says you’re not getting fucked?”

It was Theo’s turn to be speechless, that smirk melting off of his face as he gaped instead. With all the elegance and eloquence you knew him to possess, he uttered a simple, “Huh?”

Turning back to you, Mattheo slipped a hand over your eyes, while pressing a kiss to your cheek. He muttered a few Geminio’s, and when he removed his hand, both of them had their masks back on, and matching attire now. In identical tees and jeans, right down to the boots and gloves, they looked the same. Your heart skipped a beat, and your throat bobbed with anticipation.

“Can you tell who’s who?” One of them asked, their voice unrecognisable once again, and without the simple features you’d clung to for identity, your lips parted. On a trembling, excited breath, you shook your head.

“No. I can’t.”

“Good.” With that, a hand slipped into each of your own, a tug within your stomach telling you that someone had apparated the three of you, because when you blinked next, you were in the boys’ dorm. The latch on the door flicked locked with a quiet spell, and the needle on the record player lowered to begin crooning one of Mattheo’s favourite albums for these kinds of moments.

You looked between them both, a twisted glee at having no idea who was who. One of them reached a hand out, brushing cold fingers along your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, peering into the dark spaces of the mask hiding his eyes.

“I think this moment deserves a picture, don’t you?” One of them whispered, head tipping to the other, and a condescending and arousing chuckle made you shudder with anticipation. In a flurry of moving hands and bodies, you found yourself kneeling before the full-length mirror in the room, both of the masked men standing behind you. One had your hair twisted around his hand loosely, as the other held the camera.

Click.

“So pretty.” Came a quiet mumble, you weren’t even sure which man said it, but it made you flush and smile nonetheless. Untwisting his hand from your hair, he offered it to you instead, your fingers settling over his own as he helped you back to your feet. With a small tug, you were tumbling into his body, a gasp leaving you as your back settled on his chest.

The next photo came as you stood, your head rolled back onto a shoulder, and your dress pulled down to bunch around your waist, leaving your breasts and lacy bra on show. Large hands covered your tits, squeezing appreciatively as your vision spotted from the flash of the little Polaroid once again.

Click.

“Guess who?” The voice purred beside your ear, those hands moving to your hips, your thighs, tracing your body as though a new wonder before him.

“Theo?” You whispered, tipping your head to come face to face with the mask.

“Wrong.” The one holding the camera said, and a whimper slipped from your throat as Mattheo slapped your arse with just the kind of punishing pressure he knew so well. Biting down on your lip, you let them readjust you, slipping your eyes closed as you stood in the centre of the room. Someone tugged your dress the rest of the way down, someone held your hips as you slipped out of your heels, and then someone was flicking open the catch on your bra, until you were stood naked in the centre of the room.

For a long moment, nobody touched you at all, and your nerves skittered at the thrill, breath catching in your throat.

Then, warm hands without the leather gloves now were on your body. Behind you, their breath on your neck, hands skimming up your arms lightly, and you gasped. You understood the game they wanted to play.

“Theo?” You whispered, sure you’d guessed correctly this time, with the reverent and cautious touch it seemed to be. The sharp sting of a hand coming down across your arse proved you wrong.

“Nope.”

The figure stepped away from you, and your fingers twitched to reach out, your lips pulling in a grin as you waited for the next set of hands to come. When they did, it was without hesitation, two large hands closing over the top of your bra, and taking an appreciative squeeze.

The force with which he grabbed you pulled you back into his chest, and you chuckled, tipping your head until you could feel the beat of his heart against you.

“Theo.”

You were certain of that, getting a rumbling him against your back, and a kiss to your shoulder blades as he backed away, confirming your choice.

The next touch was on your stomach, knuckles skimming in a featherlight touch over your skin, circling your navel, before fingertips traced the top of your panties. Snapping the elastic against your skin, he drew a breathy moan from you. “Matty.”

“Wrong.” His words were punctuated with a slap, your legs shaking with the impact, and you clenched your thighs together, forcing your eyes to stay closed no matter how much you wanted to open them. The camera never stopped clicking, observing you and recording you in the moment of erotic vulnerability.

A handful of tense moments passed this time, you were sure they were communicating something outside of your knowledge. There seemed to be no order or system to their touches, nothing you could latch onto, leaving you completely in the dark, and it was thrilling.

A light touch traced its way up the inside of your thighs, a contrast to the foot that roughly kicked the insides of your feet, forcing your thighs to open wider. The other hand was on your back, tracing your spine until he pushed between your shoulders forcing you to bend. And as you did, those same fingers traced your cunt through your underwear, drawing an impatient whine from you as you were forced to keep waiting. “Teddy?”

“Wrong again,” Came Mattheo’s amused voice, and this time, you didn’t get a spank across your arse, but instead, a pinch to your clit that made your entire body jerk.

“That was Mattheo.” You squeaked, familiar with his antics and the way he touched your body, and a face in front of you laughed. Cracking your eyes open to peer at someone so familiar and yet so unfamiliar at the same time, he smirked at you.

“That was an obvious one.”

“Mhm.” Licking across your lower lip, you pushed forward, eager to close the distance and kiss your boyfriend for the first time tonight. He let you, his mouth sealing against your own in comforting familiarity, his hands holding your jaw as he straightened you back up.

His tongue played with your own while he guided you backwards until he was lowering you onto the bed, his knee between your thighs to grind on, pressing against your aching core and giving you the relief you so desperately needed. “You’re so wet, sweetheart. Is this getting’ you going?” He teased, raising your hands above you, and all you could do was nod and moan. His hand cupped your face, his thumb rubbing across your cheek, as his mouth trailed your jaw on the other side.

When he’d finished marking his favourite spot on your neck, leaving the skin stinging in the best way possible with his prints, he pulled away once again. He flipped you over, onto your stomach, undoing the catch on your bra and letting you shake your arms out of it, before you were without touch once again, back to both of your men as they stood behind you.

Face down in the bed, you once again lost track of who was who, feeling another set of hands snaking their way up your thighs, into the lace of your panties. Inching them own, slowly, so slowly, another hand laced into your hair, pulling your head up from the bedding, and a body pressed against your back, the camera flashing in your face once again.

“Oh, fuck.” You whined, the desperation beginning to cloud any semblance of morals or judgement you might’ve had left far more than any potion ever could. “Enough pictures, I need you, please!”

“Who do you need, baby? Who’s on their knees for you, huh? Get it right, and you can have it.” Clenching your thighs, you keened, throwing an arrogant smirk over your shoulder.

“Theo.”

They both paused for a second before Mattheo chuckled. “How’d you know?”

“Because when you eat me out, Matty, you bite me first.” Your smirk was countered with a spank to the back of your thighs, and Theo sank his teeth into one of your arse cheeks as a consequence for your attitude, but it was worth it.

Flipping up your skirt and exposing the sensitive skin of your backside to the room, Theo blew a streak of cold air across your bare pussy, making you jerk forwards with a startled gasp. “I’ve wanted to get my mouth between your legs for so long, bella. You have no idea how often I think about this.”

With that, Theo licked a long stripe up your dripping folds, and his moan was almost as loud as yours as he got a taste. Like a man possessed, Theo began to eat. He didn’t hold back, not even for a moment, confident in his movements as he proved all those rumours true. Girls loved to talk, Theo was a hot topic in gossip groups, and you were ashamed of how often you’d listened in. Now, you knew it all to be true.

You were just beginning to lose yourself to the feeling, hips rocking against Theo’s face as he eagerly encouraged the actions, when your head was yanked up, to meet another ghost-faced mask peering down at you. You were sure your heart had stopped beating altogether.

Kneeling before you on the bed was Mattheo. If you weren’t well aware by this point that Theo was the one on his knees behind you, devouring you like you were his final meal, you’d have recognised Mattheo by his cock alone. Pretty pink tip and a slight curve that always hit just right, the silvery bead of arousal running down his tip and into his fingers as he pumped slowly made your mouth water.

His fingers brushed your cheek, settling on your jaw, and you opened your mouth for him.

“My good girl.” He murmured, allowing you enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows before the heated head of his cock found its way between your lips and settled like a heavy weight on your tongue. The salty taste of him was familiar, slicking across your tastebuds as you swirled your tongue around him, a deep and throaty rumble echoing from his chest as he settled back.

With your hips pinned to the bed, your cries of pleasure were muffled by the cock in your mouth, he switched between fucking you with his tongue and teasing your clit. The sensations were overwhelming, so much going on that your head was spinning.

Kneeling there, thick thighs spread as your hands smoothed up them, you moaned around Mattheo, passing on the pleasure Theo made you feel. Sliding one hand up higher as the other supported you, your head bobbed, fingertips raking his flexing abs under his shirt. Tugging on a handful of the material, Mattheo tipped his covered face back to you, and you swore you could feel his smirk under the mask in the mere way he tilted his head.

Pulling back with an obscene pop, you gasped for air, straightening your arm and leaning up as far as you could, while Theo still brutally gripped your hips to keep you in place against his face. “Please, Matty, take it off.”

With a mutter, his shirt disappeared, the chain you knew so well hanging around his neck, glinting in the warm lights against the glow of his skin. He held your face in his hands, pulling you up, and the mouth of the mask pressed against your lips. The taste of him through the fabric made your head spin, rationale abandoning you once again as you kissed him through the mask.

His fingers threaded into your hair, tightening ever so slightly, as he pushed your head back down. “Suck, sweetheart.”

You dropped on shaky arms, taking the length of him down your throat once again, using him to muffle the sounds of your moans from Theo’s relentless assault on your cunt. The pressure building inside of you swelled, your hips grinding back against Theo’s face, pushing into the security of his hands on your body as he held so tight he’d bruise. With a cry around Mattheo’s cock, you fell apart.

Your boyfriend pulled back as you came, your shouts and pleas exposed to the room as you trembled through an incredible orgasm. Theo kept up with you, every wave and dip, until you were boneless and spent on the bed.

But he never stopped.

Your fingers twisted in the sheets, a sensitive mewl escaping you, and as you tried to claw your way up the mattress, Theo pulled back, biting at your inner thigh.

“You’re not going anywhere, dolcezza. I’ve waited so long for this, and who knows if I’ll ever get the chance again. I’m making the most of this. And I’m not finished.”

Mattheo slid off the bed as Theo flipped you over, letting you face the ceiling instead of the sheets now as he lifted one knee over each of his shoulders, his arms banding around your thighs. It locked you where you were, splayed open and unable to escape as he dove back in.

Your back arched, head pressing into the mattress as his assault began anew on your overly sensitive cunt. As he worked, his own moans increased in volume and urgency, and you found the strength to lift your head for only a moment. Kneeling on the floor behind the maskless stranger that you knew to be Theo, was Mattheo. Now without his mask too, messy curls on display again, Theo sank two fingers into your core and scissored them open, freeing himself up to toss his head back onto Mattheo’s shoulder.

Mattheo was kissing and biting his way along Theo’s shoulder and up his throat, his arm around Theo’s body moving in a way that you knew exactly why Theo was moaning in such a way. When Mattheo’s kisses reached high enough, Theo twisted his head, lips locking on Mattheo’s, and you clenched down around his fingers, dropping your head back to the bedding at the sight.

Theo switched between kissing your boyfriend and kissing your pussy, both involving copious amounts of tongue, as his fingers never let up inside of you. Already being so overstimulated, it didn’t take long until you were teetering on the brink of another earth-shattering climax, ears ringing with your noise and Theo’s.

Hopefully, everybody was at the party, because you’d forgotten to cast a Muffliato and there was no doubt that anyone passing by would be able to hear your moans. That, and the needy sounds Theo was making as Mattheo worked him closer and closer to the edge.

When you finally came again, your body shook and trembled against the mattress, legs snapping closed as your wetness soaked your thighs, and you gasped for burning breaths amid the delirious pleasure. On the floor, Mattheo tugged an overstimulated Theo’s head back with a fistful of his golden hair, and bit the lobe of his ear, hard. Theo’s eyes rolled back happily as Mattheo mumbled, “Don’t you dare come yet, pretty boy, I have plans for you.”

With that, Theo was whining pathetically as Mattheo retracted from touching him at all, rocking to his feet with far too much arrogant ease for the state both you and Theo rendered to. The final pieces of clothing between the three of you were shed, somewhere between Theo pulling Mattheo in for desperate kisses, and Mattheo mumbling into the snog about how long he’s desired this. You watched, through hooded eyes, as the tangled men stumbled their way towards you, hips grinding together through decreasing layers of clothing, until Mattheo was gripping them both in his hand to thrust together.

You threw an arm over your eyes, too turned on by the sight before you to even catch your breath, and the mattress was soon bouncing as another body hit it. You found yourself lying beside Theo on the bed, his features ever so slowly starting to seep back into focus. The potion was nearing its end, and the smile on his swollen lips was familiar as he leaned over to kiss you.

“Hi, bella.”

“Hi, Teddy.” You grinned as his mouth slanted against your own, a heady mix of Mattheo’s flavour, your arousal, and simply him, all meeting in the kiss. It was enough to melt you into his arms in half a second. Theo rolled onto his back, bringing you with him, and you yelped as Mattheo gripped your hips and lifted you to straddle Theo properly.

“You looked so pretty squirming in his lap before, baby. Show me again.” Mattheo mocked, and you had no doubt you were far from pretty, now. Your tears would’ve ruined your makeup, smeared into your hands or the sheets, you no doubt looked like a fucked-out mess, but the only thing you saw reflected in either of their gazes was raw, primal desire.

Theo slipped a hand from your hip to his cock, notching the leaking tip to your entrance, already stretched out from his previous activities. You were clenching around nothing, your whining reaching your ears, fading out into moans as he slowly sank into you. Inch by inch, Theo was stretching you out for the first time this evening. He was longer than Mattheo, surpassing any depths you’d ever been fucked to before, and your eyes rolled back, panting through shallowed breaths as you pushed back against him until you were filled.

It truly felt like he was splitting you in half, the tip of his cock pressing so deep and the outline of him present on your stomach. You traced the bulge of him with a sick kind of thrill. “So big, Teddy.”

“That's because I’ve never been this turned on in my fucking life. Merde.” He wheezed, his head pressing back into the bedding behind his head. Mattheo chuckled from behind you both, his kisses leading up your spine as you sat in Theo’s lap, adjusting to the fill of him.

“Look at my sweethearts, already so spent,” Mattheo murmured, hooking his chin over your shoulder, his arm snaking around your waist to toy slowly with your throbbing clit. As your hips began to move, Theo’s jaw dropped open, and his eyes constantly moved between where you met, your face, and Mattheo. He couldn't decide where to look or what to watch, as Mattheo littered your mouth with hickeys behind you, and you rode Theo.

The potions were finally wearing off, and you were thrilled to see the familiar features reappear. Beneath you, at last, Theo came into full focus. His messy hair, his flushed cheeks, swollen lips and shining eyes. He was the most beautiful you’d ever seen him, and that was saying something because he was gorgeous every moment of every damn day. You couldn't help yourself as you smiled, and he beamed back with genuine emotion, not just lust.

Rocking your hips needily against his own, chasing both of your climaxes, you leaned down to him and smothered his lips with your own. He kissed back just as tenderly, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, and he sighed in a soft manner as your fingers slipped into his hair, and your tongue tangled with his.

He settled for propping himself up during the kiss, giving you the perfect place to lean against his chest. Finally finding himself and crooking his legs behind you, his motions tossed you forward a little more, your mouths parting with your surprised gasp. He smirked as you lost your momentum and power, only to hand it all over to him as he began to thrust up into you from below. In your new position, Mattheo let out a contented sound at the sight, running calloused hands down the sides of your ribs, over your hips, and to your arse.

Pulling your cheeks apart, he whispered a new spell you’d been experimenting with lately, and the warm, wet sensation of a lubricating charm trickled out from between your cheeks. A fingertip teased your puckering hole, sliding in to the first knuckle, and then deeper.

“Think you can take us both, baby?” Mattheo asked, teasing, but genuine concern coated his voice through the lust, and when you nodded frantically, it wasn’t enough.

“Both?” Theo panted, his thrusts slowing to a stop as you pushed yourself back onto what was now two of Mattheo’s fingers, stretching you open to take a second cock. “Oh, fuck, you’re— voi due siete come se il mio sogno più bello diventasse realtà.” Theo moaned, his hands holding your hips tight as he slammed a single, frantically hard thrust into you and then stilling for Mattheo.

“Yes or no, sweetheart? I don’t want to—”

“Yes, Mattheo! Merlin, yes, please! Please, do it.” Your begging was hurried and blurred, no longer capable of proper thought of speech, all you knew was what you needed from him. From them both.

Mattheo slipped his fingers out of you, gripping his cock and spitting down onto himself, smearing it around his cock in the wetness already gathered, and positioning himself. At the sight, Theo whined again, “Me next,” He mumbled, and Mattheo laughed breathlessly.

“To be spat on, or to be fucked up the arse?” Mattheo questioned, sinking himself into you slowly, and your eyes rolled back.

“Cazzo, what kind of question is that? Both. Absolutely both.” Theo yapped, only drowned out by the volume of the sound you made. Pornographic, filthy, and uncontrollable. Your arms finally gave way, and you collapsed down to be cradled against Theo’s chest as you were finally filled with them both. It was so much it was overwhelming, in the best way possible, and you knew now that you were definitely being split in two this time. It was exquisite.

Beginning to rock their hips into you, the two soon found a pace and worked together, and you lost yourself to the pleasure of it. Pure, unadulterated bliss took you over, the feeling spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes, and clouding everything thought in your head that wasn't begging or their names. Your body rocked with them, your throat raw, and it wasn’t long before the feelings were all consuming.

Catapulting over the brink of bliss, a feeling you’d only experienced once or twice before took hold of you. Your juices gushed from you, a mess that soaked both the man under you as well as the one behind you. Mattheo praised you through an orgasm that came with so much force you were sure you blacked out for a moment, while Theo rode you through it and observed in awe. Your heart was pounding so hard you felt as though you were hardly breathing, screams petering off into absolute silence as tears ran down your cheeks. It was perfect.

Mattheo soon followed, emptying himself inside of you with a deep and feral growl, pressing you into Theo’s chest as his body collapsed against your own. Shaking against you through his bliss, Mattheo left a collection of fast, loving kisses along your neck and shoulders, before pulling you off of Theo.

Letting you roll to the side and shudder through the aftershocks, Mattheo focused his attention on the other member of your trio. Theo couldn’t even find the words to complain before Mattheo was circling a finger and thumb around the base of Theo’s cock, following the creamy circle of your arousal, and squeezing.

Theo’s back arched, his legs spasming, and the veins in his biceps stood out as his cheeks went red with the strain of his desperation.

“No!” He howled, slamming a fist into the bedding, almost hitting the discarded camera, and your hand caught it just before it rolled off of the edge of the bed. Surprising, that it had survived there for this long. “Why, Matty? I was— I was—”

Theo’s voice cracked, tears lining his eyes at being held at the brink when he was so close to the edge, and he took gasping, audible breaths as he tried to settle himself, sniffling.

“I know, my pretty boy, I know,” Mattheo whispered, leaning down to kiss Theo’s frown. “You can come, just let me get my mouth on you first. I’ve always wanted you to come down my throat, I just needed you to hold off for me.”

Theo let out a pained groan at that, his anger fading away as he nodded, and he slipped long fingers into dark curls before your very eyes as Mattheo descended upon his best friend’s cock.

He dragged his tongue along the entire length of him, licking your juices from Theo’s skin, and his cock twitched dangerously. Taking the hint, Mattheo swallowed him down, and he wasn’t even halfway before Theo’s back arched, and he came.

It was a beautiful sight and sound, both you and Mattheo watching in admiration as Theo finally reached his peak. Positioning the camera in your unsteady hands, you snapped a picture of the sight before you. Theo’s arched back, Mattheo with his flushed cheeks stuffed full, watching the man he was pleasuring.

Click.

At the flash in the room, Mattheo’s focus moved to you, a wicked look flashing in those pretty eyes as he sucked one more time against Theo’s cock, before pulling back. He opened his mouth, tongue out, a picture of perfect filth as he showed just how much come Theo had released, dripping across his tongue.

Click.

He took the camera from your hands and tossed it to the ground the second the photo was out, leaning down to kiss you messily and share the prize he’d won. Hurried kisses with Mattheo slowed as Theo’s taste seeped away, and your racing hearts all managed to settle.

The three of you lay in the bed, slowly gathering yourselves once again as you came back down from orbit. You were covered in bruises and bites, Theo was covered in your scratches and hickeys, and Mattheo was just a mess. The room smelled of sweat, sex, and weed Mattheo sparked up. Theo uttered a few charms and spells, whatever he could think of as you all basked in the afterglow, sharing the spliff between you.

Curling onto your side when it was finished, you caught Mattheo’s eye over the top of Theo’s chest, the grin he wore told you just how content and satisfied he was with the night’s events. Theo lifted an arm, brushing it through his hair with a heavy sigh, and when he lowered it back down, you caught his hand.

Lacing his fingers with your own and snuggling in closer, your cheek came to rest on his shoulder as you kissed his knuckles. “That was incredible.” You whispered into the room, the music sputtering out and the lights lowering to fade out with a click of Mattheo’s fingers.

“We’re doing that again soon, right?” Mattheo asked, prompting tired laughs from both you and Theo. “What? I haven’t even begun to scratch off the bucket list of things I want the three of us to do together.”

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inesbaby21 · 7 months ago

Note

Caitlin clark and a feminine reader who's her gay awakening. She and the reader are like really good friends at first, and then it slowly turns into something more. Maybe she gets jealous when she sees you hang out with another player like paige or Kate.

"You've got it badddd"- Caitlin Clark

3rd person P.O.V

Don't get me wrong, you and Caitlin had always been close- even when you decided that staying in Iowa wasn't the choice for you. While you had no open regrets you missed the late night conversations with Cait, often talking about how you wanted your hair done next- or maybe which pair of jeans would go best with the new shoes you had ordered.

Being friends with someone who was so comfortable, and open with their femininity was something new to caitlin- almost scary. She was so used to the girls on her team not putting in effort to match the accent of their tees to their new shoes, or waking up an extra hour early to do their makeup because "it made them feel pretty" (you were always pretty to her, especially when you were focused on making a shot- oh and no doubt when you let out a snort from laughing too hard, ultimately causing you to laugh even harder from the embarrassment.)

So, why exactly did it take Caitlin until her junior year of COLLEGE- and subsequently the year you decided that maybe switching your Uconn to be closer to your older (adoptive) sister would be best for you to admit to herself that maybe (definitely) she likes you more than a friend? Why did it take her until the same pink luggage you had arrived with almost two years ago had been packed- and placed neatly in the white car with pink interior that she knew all too well for her to finally gain the courage to admit the feelings she had felt for you for years?

The same feelings that made her want to play a little too hard at the USA basketball tournament- even though she didn't know exactly who you were. That didn't matter though, you stood out like a sore thumb- a small red skirt, crisp white tee with words that read along the lines of "written by lana del something" adorn with red lettering- with makeup soft, and light giving you an almost angelic look.

Don't get even get me started on how unfocused she was that entire game- staring at the shot clock, and then you, and then the clock again. Fumbling the ball- and forgetting to use her pivot when she got a rebound. These little things caused to her ultimately get benched, finding her spot next to Paige as Hailey subbed her out for that quarter- she and Paige talked, about nothing too serious until Caitlin mentioned being distracted by not her nerves.. but by someone sitting in the stands with a ridiculously large ipad.

"No fucking way Caitlin" Paige said a little too loud for the girls liking as she shushed her out of fear of the coaches hearing.

"What? I'm just saying she's really pretty- and from the way she's been at all of the games this week I think she may be one of the girls sister or something" Caitlin said completely oblivious to the fact that the girl she had been almost studying for a week was Paige's younger sister- the same girl who she would spend the next 3 1/2 years yearning after too scared to make the first move.

"Caitlin" the Blonde said- dropping her voice an octave and sitting up straight. "That's my fucking sister you dimwit" she said lightly shoving the now pale girl sitting beside her as she laughed at the expression on the girls face.

"Oh my gosh- I.. I-I'm so sorry, I take all of that back" The brunette began to ramble scared by the sudden change of atmosphere. Not paying the panicking girl any attention Paige began to laugh as the entire situation was nothing short of hilarious to her- and honestly she started shed a few tears before her attention was called back to the game as she was subbed in.

This experience was one of many that occurred until you and Caitlin finally crossed paths in college. It was no secret that you had many offers from many different schools, and that ultimately when you committed to Iowa that there was bound to be a bit of sibling rivalry as both of you were very competitive. It was alsooo noted how much time you spent with the girls on the team with you- now don't get me wrong Caitlin couldn't exactly be jealous when you and Molly Davis began to hang out with one another outside of practice. But something in her snapped when you sad been elbowed in the face by an opponent while getting a rebound, and as she rushed to make sure you were okay the girl nudged her slightly backwards as she helped you up herself l- glaring at Caitlin on the court seemingly forgetting that there were cameras everywhere.

Fast forward to now. She had spent months upset with you- leaving you confused and ultimately hurt as you spent time attempting to figure out what exactly you did wrong. Was it the overwhelmingly positive attitude? The almost sickening pink bedroom decor (you had offered to tone your side of the room down too many times to count. ) Maybe it was the idea of you getting too close to molly, and then when you had sprung the news of you transferring to Uconn as a last resort to getting more playing time- and being able to showcase your talent like promised.

Whatever the reason was, it had Caitlin Clark avoiding you like the plague for months, ignoring the small talk you made when she was in your shared dorm- if she was even there. She began to spend the night with Kate as she had no roommate, and if she wasn't with Kate she was simply out all night.. and who were you to judge her- she was constantly put under stress to play her best, practice like it was a game, and most importantly to not let herself get too involved with anything relationship related.

That last reason alone was why she found herself with a ridiculously heavy, pink gift basket in hand as she marched towards the white car- just as nervous as the USA youth tournament that ultimately changed her life. She spent about a week writing the letter confessing her feelings- and with the help of Molly (ironic right ..) she picked out things that she knew you would not only like, but that help some form of value to you.

"Y/N/N" The girl yelled half heartedly- more sad about your departure, than nervous about giving you the note.

"Hey Caity" You said back with a bright smile- a smile that matched your bubbly voice. Caitlin would never understand why you couldn't hold grudges, even after icing you out for months- ignoring every attempt you gave to communicate, and borderline moving out you still had the heart to forgive her- and sometimes she wondered why it was so easy for you to forgive.

As you close the trunk of the SUV, you walked towards the nervous girl- taking the gift from her hands and giving her a tight hug around the neck, as her hands find their place along your waistline. The two of you stayed like that for a while until she pulled away to get a good look at your face. Caitlin could tell you really didn't want to leave Iowa, but your sister needing support as she was injured, and if you wanted any shot at potentially getting drafted you needed to have more playing time- more time to show how much you've grown as a player, more time to show who you were- to make a name for YOURSELF. These things combined together left you with no choice but to transfer, and why not transfer to a school where your sister already resided with her girlfriend? Why not transfer to a team full of love, and support with multiple great coaches?

Transferring was the best option for you, and Caitlin tried to understand that. Even if it meant potentially losing you, but deep down something inside of her told her that the distance would only bring the two of you closer- it would only feed the growing feeling from both parties, that it would only heal the wound that had opened as a consequence of pushing one another away. As you pulled away from the girl completely- you stared at the basket full of goodies.

"Oh Cait- You didn't have to get me anything"- You said tearing up, it was a thought out gift that obviously took some planning- and the price didn't matter to you as it was something that she had taken time to put together for you. "No, No I wanted to Y/N/N" she girl said with a bright smile "I wrote you a letter that I think you should really read"

As you carefully pull the letter out of its envelope, your eyes skim over the beautifully written piece of card stock- pink ink neatly written on the thick piece of paper as your begin to smile ear to ear. With no other words you drop the letter into the baby pink basket- leaning up and kissed the taller girl passionately, and as you pulled away breathless you began to mutter something along the lines of "Actually the shirt said written by Lana Del Rey" giggling as you began to think back to the day you set your eyes on the girl.

A/N-I'm sorry about being inactive everyone! i have band camp soooo i've been super busy and will be for the next few weeks! Also, im getting to my request/drafs bear with me 🙏🏾. ALSO please ignore my grammar issues, i didnt proof read it all the way- and im also playing around with the plot ngl. butttt i love you guys! and thank you for 120 followers! 💕❤️

tags; @cosmopretty

#caitlin clark x reader #kate martin x reader #iowa wbb #indiana fever #emily engstler x reader #ice brady x reader #kk arnold x reader #nika muhl x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #ines bettencourt #jana el alfy

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 year ago

Text

your lipstick stain is a work of art

Masterlist

Giving Epel, Leona and Ace a DIY Maison Margiela Kiss Shirt

Warnings: Reader is female

I may have gotten a bit carried away in Leona’s part 😅

EPEL FELMIER

After listening to another one of Epel’s rants on Vil’s strict training regimen, you came up with a bright idea. Even though you couldn’t see his face due to the way he was spooning you, you could tell from how his rough country accent would get more and more prominent that he was more than annoyed - and thankfully, you knew the best way to cheer him up.

“Hey, Epel,” you piped up, turning your head to look right at him, effectively cutting through his tirade, “that new makeup set that your Dorm Leader gave you? You haven’t opened it yet, right?”

“Uh no,” he scrunched his nose up in confusion, “A hate the stuff.”

“Then can I have the lipstick, please?”

“Um, sure? I mean, I’m not gonna use it. But why?”

“You’ll see…”

….

The next day, you set your plan into motion. Armed with the sleek black lipstick box that your boyfriend was more than happy to hand over to you and a crisp white shirt you had purchased from Sam’s, you began working on what you supposed was your magnum opus. Once you had finished, ten minutes later, you sent a quick text to Epel, telling him to meet you in your dorm for a ‘surprise’.

When he arrived, he was confused to find you standing at your doorway, dark red tinting your innocent smile, with your hands behind your back.

“For you,” you chirped, still smiling as you handed him a neatly wrapped box.

He took it from you slowly and cautiously, suspicious eyes not leaving your face as he searched for any hint of deception. You’ve never given him any reason to be wary of you, or to think that this might all be a prank, but considering you’re best friends with a certain red haired troublemaker, it didn’t hurt to be heedful.

It was light, very light. He shook it but apart from faint rustling, he couldn’t hear anything that could clue him into what it was. He raised an eyebrow, “what’s in here, doll?”

“You’ll just have to open it and see.”

He ripped open the wrapping paper, letting the torn pieces fall to the floor as he found himself holding a box. Uncovering the lid, he looked down to find a white shirt, carefully folded inside, its collar and entire front covered in lipstick marks - lipstick marks that happen to look suspiciously similar to the shade that you currently wore on your lips right then…

Noticing how his surprise had frozen him, his eyes wise as he appeared entranced at the sight before him, you say, “do you like it? I figured that -”

You didn’t even get to start your explanation, let alone finish it, as you were engulfed by the comforting fragrance of fresh apples and his lips were pressing on yours like his life depended on it and your back was flush against the wall of your entrance passage. One of his hands clutching the box protectively to his chest and the other flat against the wall right next to your head. You close your eyes and melt against him, letting your arms. When the need for air became more and more apparent, he reluctantly separated himself from you, eyes blazing.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

“So does that mean you like it?”

His answering kiss said more than enough.

….

You should’ve known that your little surprise would come back to bite you. As cherubic as your boyfriend appeared to be, he was nothing but a demon underneath those soft lavender locks and wide doe eyes.

You were reminded of this the next morning when he strolled into your shared homeroom class, right in the middle of registration.

“Mornin’ sir, sorry I’m late.”

Beside you, you could hear Ace and Deuce choke on their breaths. The air of the room seemed to be submerged in freezing cold water as you could feel your fellow classmates freeze in their seats, a few of them whisper-shouting expletives of shock. Bewildered by the sudden change in atmosphere, you look up from your book, only to feel the rest of the world still around you and all the blood leave your face.

Standing at the entryway of the classroom was Epel Felmier, his posture upright and proud. He had abandoned his blazer, waistcoat and bowtie, and instead of his usual Schoenheit-approved expensive lacy high-collared shirt, he donned your gift, wearing his lipstick kiss stains like badges of honour. He waltzed into class bearing the grin of a cat that got the cream. His smug aura was blinding and his confidence was so corporeal that he appeared to be triple his actual size.

“Mr Felmier,” Professor Crewel sternly asked him, years of teaching seeming to prevent him showing any sign of fluster, his eyes ignited with frustration, “what is the meaning of this?”

“My girl happens to be an artist, Professor,” Epel replied easily, “As a student of the dorm that prides itself in appreciating beauty, it would be rude and becoming to not show off her masterpiece.”

All at once, the entire class turned to look at you, their gazes searing, as you stared straight down at your desk, mentally calculating how hard you’d need to bang your head against it for you to end up in a coma.

Once the Dorm Leader and Vice Dormleader of Pomefiore find out about Epel’s little stunt, you knew that you would be a goner.

“Henchman, what is he talking about?” Grim demanded.

“Wow, Y/N,” Ace looked at you like you had suddenly grown three heads, “didn’t take you to be that type.”

“And what type would that be?” Deuce instantly came to your defence.

“ENOUGH!” Professor Crewel’s pointer smacked down against his desk, effectively silencing everyone yet again, “Mr Felmier, get to your seat at once. I expect to see you in detention this lunch break for violating the dress code. Rest assured, I will be taking this up with your Dorm Leader. And Miss L/N-” he turned to you with his sharp gaze, whilst Epel didn’t even look the slightest bit perturbed at facing his Dorm Leader’s impending wrath, “please stay behind after the bell rings. I have something to discuss with you.”

“Oh~” Ace muttered under his breath, “looks like papa’s angry.”

Needless to say, Epel managed to spend the rest of the day wearing that shirt. Throughout the entire time, you could feel the other students give you looks ranging from puzzled to amused to knowing.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

“Hmmm,” Leona sighs, amusement colouring the guttural resonance, as you press another drawn-out kiss under the sharp curve of his jaw, “not that I’m complaining, herbivore, but what’s with the sudden boldness?”

“Well,” you hum languidly, looking at the lipstick stain you left behind - another one to add to the growing collection you had scattered on his cheeks and lower face - moving your mouth lower to his pulse point and letting your lips linger on his skin before flicking your eyes up to look right into darkened green irises, “considering how you always make a big deal over me wearing your scent, I figured that I’d return the favour - let me mark my territory for a change.”

The smugness radiating off of him was palpable and you ignored the deep, satisfied rumble of his chest as you busy yourself with printing your crimson pattern onto the length of his neck, going lower and lower with every press.

To be honest, finding yourself straddling his lap from his seat at the edge of his bed, your arms draped over his shoulders and his hands resting firmly onto your lower back, was not exactly what you expected when you entered the Dorm Leader’s bedroom to wake him up for his Spelldrive Club, but it definitely wasn’t an unwelcome change. And you certainly weren’t lying when you made that jab at his shamelessly obvious leonine instincts - the innate predatory need to broadcast to the entire school that you were not to be messed with - with the way he would nose and nuzzle at your neck until he was satisfied, or drape his too large blazer over your shoulders before sending you off to class. Though, if you were being candid, you had the suspicion that his behaviour was less to do with his species and more to do with Leona himself. After suffering through decades of denial, him finally being given what he covets so freely and willingly results in him wanting nothing to latch on and never let go, to hold the object of his affections in his arms to keep and protect and cherish. Of course, you could never complain as for all that he seemed to take from you, he also gave to you tenfold. It takes a great deal of trust for a lion to bare his neck (‘both literally and figuratively,’ you think as your mouth presses against the skin under his ear) and a lion as proud and closed-off as the second prince of Sunset Savanna? A feat like that was almost inconceivable. Even now, his tail is coiled around your leg like a vine of ivy as he let you do as you pleased with absolutely no questions asked.

When you once again come back up from yet another kiss, Leona uses this opportunity to cup your face with his hand, using just the right amount of pressure to to grip onto your jaw and rub his thumb over your cheek. His eyes, though still gleaming with want, melts into something more soft. As a master of strategic brilliance, his proficiency in self control is beyond admirable yet whenever you’re near, he finds himself unraveling. And he loves every second of it. His drinks up the sight of you: the flush of your cheeks, the black of your eyes, the smudged rouge of your lips that he smears even further with the edge of his thumb.

Oh Great Seven, you're perfect.

“Would you look at that,” he murmurs, “my little herbivore’s got a set of claws on her. We’ll go on then.”

You smile back at him before resuming back to your original position.

You run your right hand down from his shoulders, not stopping your mouth's work as your fingers slide down his chest, swiftly and seamlessly hooking and undoing the buttons of his waistcoat. Grabbing onto the lapels of the honey golden material, you deftly push it downwards off of him, exposing the white expanse of his clothed torso as it falls limply onto his elbows. You then kissed the area near his clavicles, where the first button of his shirt had been left undone so that your lipstick stretched over both his tanned chest and the placket. Seeing the glaringly obvious red mark left behind on the pristine white fabric gave you an idea and before you knew it, you pressed dragging kiss after dragging kiss over the collar and upper side of the front of his shirt.

You managed to only get to above his breast pocket before your boyfriend was dragging you back up and collided your lips together at a speed so fast it left you reeling. Before you could fully compute the change in direction, pounding knocks on the door snapped you out of your vertigo.

“OI, BOSS,” came the annoyed yells of Ruggie, “You were supposed to be at the club meeting five minutes ago. Quit foolin’ around with the prefect and get over here!”

Leona let out an irked growl but he made no move to shift his position, even when the incessant knocking failed to cease, “Okay! Okay! I’m coming. Jeez!”

“Wait,” you say as you get off his lap and watch him stand up, lipstick stains and all, pick up his duffle sports bag and head to the door, “are you leaving? Like that?”

“Why not?” was his unbothered reply.

Now that the spell over the room had been successfully broken and clarity and common sense once again seized control from the haze, the full impact of your actions dropped into your stomach like a lead anvil. With it being mid afternoon, the Savanaclaw common area, let alone the corridors of the school, would be in high traffic. The thought of the other students (and seven forbid the teachers) seeing him covered in marks and knowing exactly who put them there fills you with pure mortification, sending blood rushing upwards and making your cheeks burn.

“What’s this?” he turns around and makes his way over to you, towering over you and smirking down at your abashed and frozen figure, eyebrow raised, “where did my brave little herbivore go? Don’t tell me she’s all talk after the show she just put on.”

It’s settled. You can never show your face around NRC again. Your only options now are to beg Malleus to smite you with lightning or to pull an Idia and live the rest of your life as a hermit.

He slowly leans down and places a tender kiss on your forehead, whispering over your skin, “Don’t think that this is over. When I come back, I’ll show you how territory is truly marked. You better be prepared.”

He then saunters off, his bag slung over his shoulder, as he opens the door without a care in the world. You can faintly hear Ruggie’s deep inhale before a “WHAT THE HELL?!” fills your ears.

You should’ve known that you could never one up a predator.

(yes, I know that realistically it would be impossible for one application of lipstick to last that long but let me have this)

ACE TRAPPOLA

It was when you heard the bathroom door slam shut, followed by the sound of your shower head spraying water, that the idea came to you. Knowing Ace, he would spend at least ten minutes in your shower since he liked to make use of the privacy and alone time that Ramshackle provides and his dorm denies. Or at least, that's his go-to excuse when asked why he spends more time sleeping over at your dorm instead of the one he was sorted into.

Sending a playful smile to the door that separated the two of you, you slowly and quietly got out of bed so as to not disturb Grim (who still insisted on sleeping next to you, even after Ace became a staple in your life. You agreed with him, despite Ace’s annoyed refutes, simply stating that Grim and you would sleep together before your relationship and you weren’t planning on stopping that) and made your way to your closet where you kept one of Ace’s school shirts to prepare you for the occasion where he forgets to bring one. You then rustled through your drawers and pulled out a cylindrical stick of lipstick and got to work. Thankfully you had finished applying and kissing his shirt by the time he was done showering and was dressed and ready so when he entered your bedroom and was greeted by the sight of you wearing a mischievous grin, alarm bells started ringing.

“Hey, babe?” he asks with trepidation, “what do you have behind your back?”

“Nothing,” you answer lightly.

“Oh really?” and he swipes behind you but you dodge in the nick of time. Luckily for him, his fine-tuned basketball reflexes put him at an advantage and in no time at all, he’s got you pinned on your bed, with him sitting on top of you, legs straddled on either side of your hips, and you lying beneath him. In his hands he triumphantly holds your surprise. He unfurls the white fabric and holds it out in front of him with - and then almost drops it onto your face as red blooms across his nose and cheeks when he realises what he’s looking at

He looks at the shirt then at you then the shirt and you in quick succession, taking note as to how your lips appear to be the same shade as the marks on his shirt.

Scrambling together and haphazardly picking up what’s left of his bearings, he attempts to throw on his usual cocksure smirk but his still cherry red countenance betrays his flustered visage, “so what’s this, then.”

“A shirt,” you respond.

“Looks like you made a lot of effort with this, sweetheart,” he muses, his eyes bright and jaunty, “are you so obsessed with me that you need to mark me up?”

“I thought it would be a fun prank. But seeing that you don’t seem to like it-” you make a move to grab at it but Ace holds both of your wrists down with one hand.

“Hey, who’s saying I don’t like it?!” he argues defiantly, “this has got to be the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

“Really?” you ask, eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Really,” he nods and then looks down at you mischievously, “why don’t I show you how much I like it?”

He then leans down and captures your lips with his and for the nth time of his life, Grim wishes that you were still single.

BONUS FOR ACE BECAUSE I LOVE HIM:

Ace then spends the next ten minutes trying to convince you to do the same to his basketball jersey

You know this boy decided to wear that shirt to the next Unbirthday party, relishing in his dormmates’ stares, the sound of crashing silverware, and the sights of your mortified expression, Cater’s phone recording everything and Riddle’s reddening face.

Poor Deuce goes bright pink and refuses to look at you for the next hour.

Honestly the lecture was so worth it. The collar and heaping and heaping of chores, not so much but he would totally do it again.

Yeah, it turns out that wearing a lipstick stained shirt isn’t technically against the rules and our resident rule-breaker definitely exploits that loophole. You know that rule where you have to wear pink when feeding the flamingos? Nowhere does it say that he’s not allowed to buy a light pink shirt that’s covered in hot pink kiss marks (you went along with this half because you wanted to stop his whining and half because you wanted to mess with his dorm leader for collaring Grim the day before)

Since you forbade him from wearing that shirt in public (for NRC’s collective sanity, Riddle’s vocal cords and Heartslabyul’s auditory abilities) Ace makes it a point to hang up that shirt on the door of his wardrobe in his dormitory so that he can brag about it to ‘the miserable and jealous singles’ he shares his living space with (RIP Deuce and the other Heartslabyul NPCs)

He also bought a few more shirts and begged asked you to do the same to them

That shirt is his new favourite thing of all time. He’s even changed his phone’s wallpaper and his Magicam icon (both of which used to be a selfie of you kissing his cheek as he smiles at the camera) to a mirror selfie of him wearing the shirt and you posing next to him.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola x reader #epel felmier x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #fem reader

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spiderfunkz · 5 days ago

Text

MIDNIGHT FICTION

pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader

cw. very cutesy fluff, post-transition hyun-ju, established relationship, hyun-ju and reader move to thailand, takes place a while after the games.

author's note: helloooo, my requests for hyun-ju are open, or if you wanna request for another squid game character just check here. oh and, the title is a song by ill-it in which i am obsessed with tee hee.

the streets of thailand felt like a breath of fresh air.

compared to the previous atmosphere you were in, this was the change you needed. the lights were radiating an addictive glow, it illuminated the market stands filled with delicious food and exotic treats, everything felt a bit overwhelming but nonetheless you couldn't be anymore excited to explore.

hyun-ju's hand held yours tight, navigating through crowds, you eventually landed on a street decorated with different fashion, makeup, and jewelry shops. this was exactly what you're looking for.

your forever stay here completes a certain promise made during tough times. a night where hyun-ju shared tears and smiles, you reassured that she'll get out and live the life she's always wanted. though, she wanted you to go with her, so she could give you the love you've never gotten before. at that moment, a pinky promise was initiated.

her surgery went well, she's still healing from post. but now you thought it was the perfect time to go shopping for new things. initially, you two didn't bring as much stuff from korea, most used clothes or items were donated, and your homes were sold not long after. you wanted to move here to start a new chapter of your lives.

hyun-ju had been prepared for everything, she looked for houses in good locations, jobs that could be taken, everything was perfectly analyzed and well thought out by her.

the clothing shop was the first stop.

"oh! look at this skirt, this would look so good on you!" you smiled, the black skirt with lace accents were held up near hyun-ju. she flinches slightly, "i don't know if i would be confident in it," she shrugs, causing you to pout.

"okay, well, i could give it a try." she smiled.

she left the shop with two bags full of new skirts, tops, and outerwear. you left happy, skipping. "see how fun this is! i've always wanted to go on shopping dates, you know?" — "thank you for taking me here, y/n. don't you want to buy something as well?" she asks.

you nod, "let's go there." you point at a large makeup store, it's plastered with different advertisements for all kinds of brands.

you and hyun-ju swatch lip tints, eyeshadow, eyeliner, highlighters, concealer, to the point your arms were basically a makeup product itself. you helped hyun-ju find her perfect shades, and she handpicked products she thinks suits you. at the end, you left with your new lip tint, and hyun-ju with a small bag of basic makeup anddd, a kiss stain in your exact shade on her cheek!

as you two were about to leave and go back to your home, you spot a small booth with handmade jewelry. it was priced for a reasonable amount, and the seller seemed incredibly nice.

you made a quick plan to distract hyun-ju and buy a pair of matching rings. and so you did, "wait, hyun, could you buy me a drink there really quick? thanks!" she nodded, "okay, don't go anywhere."

you wave, before walking towards the booth. purchasing two rings with a small butterfly on it, one in hyun-ju's favorite color, and one in yours. you thanked the seller and hyun-ju came back almost immediately.

"here you go, i also bought a drink for myself, i've been craving something sweet this entire day." she laughs, "oh, am i not sweet enough?" you joke, the small bag with the rings hide behind your back.

"hm, i guess not." hyun-ju teases. you roll your eyes, "maybe, this will change your mind." the bag was handed to hyun-ju, she held out the ring in her favorite color and admired it for a moment.

"you bought me this?"

"do you think i'm sweet enough, now?"

hyun-ju gave you the biggest kiss ever before making a stupid pick up line joke.

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purinfelix · 11 months ago

Note

Joao with actress reader 👀

just an act ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ - joao felix

pairing: actress reader x joao felix (established relationship) summary: in which your boyfriend's possessive tendencies are put to the test warnings: none! w/c: 1.1k

a/n: take a shot everytime i apologise for being ia challenge !! also this is a teensy bit rushed and i'm not entirely happy with it but, i hope it's alright !! tysm anon for the req (and for waiting for so long for me to answer it 😭)

“Joao, you’re sure you’re okay with it?”

“How many times are you going to ask me that?” your boyfriend huffed, “I’m fine! Really!”

“You literally skipped out on training to follow me to work,” you reminded him, with a slightly teasing tone.

“So?”

You let out a sigh for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour and tried your best to maintain your composure. Around you, the atmosphere of an active film set roared with its flurry of light, noise, and movement. Neither your hair nor makeup were close to being done, and you were still standing wrapped in the plush white robe the costuming staff had given you before you changed into your outfit for your scene. Somewhere to your right you watched the director and his entourage of nervous interns scrounge around the perfect the set’s lighting, and push all of the cameras and mics in their right places. Behind you, your costar sat on his chair, waiting impatiently, ready for the scene the two of you were shooting today.

And yet, the only thing you found your attention being drawn to was the boy that stood in front of you, with floppy hair and pleading eyes and a pout that was just too hard to deny.

“So, are you sure you’re alright with this? With me kissing another man?” you repeated, slowly, growing more aware of how little time you had until the cameras were set to start rolling.

When you had come home a couple of weeks ago with the news - that the new movie you were starring in would involve a kissing scene between you and your costar - you were nervous, to say the least. You knew Joao was the type to value your career just as much as you did, and would never do anything to stop you from achieving your dreams. However, you were equally aware that he had possessive tendencies, as much as he pretended not to. Of course, he had acted casual about the news at first, telling you that as long as you were comfortable with it, he was too.

But now that the time to shoot the scene had actually come, it seemed like he was having second thoughts - evidenced by the fact he had insisted on following you to work and had spent the past hour or so hovering around as you got ready, expression equal parts nervous and stern. Despite this, you knew he’d rather die than admit how he really felt, even if you prodded him a thousand times just to say what was clearly on his mind.

“Yep! Totally fine!” he chirped out in a falsely cheery tone. The way his eyes flickered anxiously between you, and your costar waiting in the distance, seemed to suggest otherwise.

You could only rub his arm reassuringly though, offering a look that you hoped conveyed your gratefulness at the fact he trusted you enough to not get in your way, but also cared enough to be so watchful. Still, the staff around you waited for no one, and soon enough you were ushered back into your makeup chair, from which you watched your boyfriend linger behind the cameras, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

“Joao, baby.”

You were starting to feel like a broken record at this point.

The scene had gone well, and you had only had to reshoot it a couple of times because of either you or your costar forgetting or stumbling over your lines. But the two of you had done your best to maintain an air of professionalism surrounding the intimate scene - your boyfriend however hadn’t been so well.

“I’m fine.” His tone, and the fact that his back was facing you as the two of you lay in bed together, told you otherwise.

The kiss - or kisses as Joao had corrected you - had only lasted seconds, nothing more than quick pecks in fleeting moments. You hadn’t thought much of them before, during, and now after them but it was clear he didn’t share the same sentiment.

“You said you were okay with it,” you sighed softly, trying your best to push the understanding tone in your voice.

“I am.”

“It doesn’t really seem like it.” Whilst it seemed like the bare minimum for him to let you go ahead with something your job required of you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for him putting aside his feelings for you - or at least trying to. A part of you found it slightly adorable as well, that he was trying so hard to hide his slight jealousy - evidenced by his moody demeanour the entire afternoon after you got back from shooting.

“What makes you think that?” You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely clueless or whether he was just messing with you. Struggling against your mattress, you pushed yourself up and leaned over to him, resting your chin on his shoulder - from where you could see his side profile, and furrowed brows.

“Hmm, I wonder,” you hum, fingers moving to gently interlace his fingers with yours as a silent way of saying I know something’s wrong.

“It’s just,” he began, and you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders at finally breaking through to him, “that costar of yours, Andy or whatever his name is, seemed a little bit too into it.”

You had to stop yourself from giggling, given how sincere his words were, but you couldn’t help but find his jealousy a little bit adorable.

“Joao, his name is Andrew,” you corrected him, “and he has a girlfriend.”

“What?”

“Yeah, and she’s lovely,” you chuckled softly, relief washing over you as you watched your boyfriend break into a small smile for what felt like the first time all day. You could physically feel the tension in his shoulders melt away as he let out a sigh of relief he must’ve been holding ever since you had come home with the news.

“Thank God,” he finally mumbled, turning back around to face you as he pulled you in close. You felt his grip tightly around your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sighing deeply.

“Plus, it’s not like he would pose much competition anyways,” you added, laughing softly as you wrapped your arms around him. He only hummed in response, not saying much more. You pecked the top of his forehead, relishing the fact that you had finally managed to heal his mood. After all, whilst acting was your job, you knew that at times like this - away from any cameras and in the comfort of your boyfriend’s arms - none of it was an act.

#joao felix #joão félix #joao felix x reader #joao felix x you #joao felix fluff #joao felix oneshot #joao felix fic #fanfic #football #oneshot #fc barça #fc barcelona #jet writes ★#purinfelix #jet answers ✧

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tmwcs · 1 year ago

Note

HI, I LOVE UR WRITING SO MUCH!!

can u do something,like a oneshot Or something for heeseung where because of being an idol he can't date but he's also a hormonal man so he gets hot and bothered due to stress and other factors often but now it's gotten to a point where he can't concentrate, he needs pussy. So he tells his manager who pulls him aside one day to ask him what's wrong with him. Now the manager arranges someone (YOU) as a stress reliever for heeseung. U can continue the rest hehe:)

”The Arrangement.”

Warnings: Idol HS and y/n, oral (fem receiving), reader is getting paid for sex, hints of rough smut.

“Heeseung, come on! More energy! Bring out Ethan Lee! Concert is in a few hours, we need everyone on point.”

Heeseung’s hands remained firm on his hips as he rolled his eyes and caught his breath. He was frustrated, angry, and disappointed, mainly because there was a lot of truth in the staff’s words, he wasn’t as lively or energetic…in fact, he was slacking.

“Yeah….got it. Can we do another take?”

The staff and creative director all nod and aired the track as the boys performed their routine. “Yes! Just like that! Keep doing that Heeseung!”

“Nice wink, Jake! Do that more!”

“Sunoo, more smiling!”

“Jungwon, tilt your chin down more on this part.”

“Nice one Niki!”

“Jay, too sexy! Tone it down just a tad.”

“Sunghoon, do that thing that the girls like, you know, lick the fangs. That drives them crazy, and we want them to go ballistic during the concert.”

By the end of the hour, the group had completed a lengthy six hour session, with only ten minutes to spare before hair and makeup. “Changeover!” the staff yells out, already herding the young men backstage.

“Heeseung…you good?”

“Huh? Oh…yeah….”

“You sure? You seem to be out of it, I know it’s hard to get rest when we’re busy on tour…just a few more days and we can finally get a break.” Jake was always understanding, and normally he could guess the issue and provide the motivation as a resolve for everyone, including the eldest. However, this time…he wasn’t guessing correctly.

“Yeah…thanks.” Heeseung merely stated before changing into the first outfit. He wasn’t tired or feeling restless, maybe to an extent, but that really wasn’t the cause of his lack in performance. The man was yearning; hungry for a desire that could not be fulfilled by the pampering treatment of first class air tickets, the rising fame of popularity, or the lavish hotel stay. He needed flesh, and badly.

While it was customary for idol’s to keep things hush-hush as far as their personal lives went, it didn’t mean that they could indulge, so long as it never reached public sight or hearing. What with the frequent dates he’s gone on with many of the most well known female idols, some younger or older, the rigorous tour schedule had kept him from maintaining anything steady, and for so long he had been running dry. He wasn’t necessarily desperate, just needed the warmth and comfort of a suitable woman.

The concert ended, and as always, the group had served well and performed fantastically. The energy was thriving and the atmosphere was filled with screams as each member waved goodbye.

Finally, it was all done.

“Well…we got two more days here until we fly back. We gonna do anything?” Jake inquires openly as he high-fives each member.

“Niki and I were going to go try out this restaurant. They charge $300 per steak.”

“Oh I heard about that place. Don’t they have a year-long waitlist?”

“Manager got us in.”

Heeseung pretended to be asleep, propping his head against the window as his arms remained firmly crossed against his chest. His ears pricked up as he overheard the ongoing conversation inside the van.

After arriving at the hotel, everyone went into their respective rooms. As usual, Heeseung had a room entirely by himself, which he and the members were instructed to tell the fans that it was all due to chance of winning “Rock, Paper, Scissors” when in reality, the eldest of the group receives such privileges as customary within the industry. But for the sake of reflecting the bond and “softness” within their image, the company deemed it better to lie about the room assignments.

He tosses his leather jacket aside as it flops onto the chair backing. Exhaustion took over his entire body as he threw himself on the bed. His eyes slowly open as he reaches for his phone, half of his face still buried into the plush bedding as he explores his pocket and dig it out. There was no way he could spend another night alone, taking care of his needs by hand. WIth as many callouses he had, there was no way he could even make it feel natural or good, there wasn’t enough lotion in the world that could cover up and mend the roughness of his hardworking skin.

“We need to talk.” was all he types in before sending off the message.

A few moments pass before he hears the knocking at his door. “Well that was fast…Mr. Manager.” he softly whispers while lifting his body off the bed.

“Heeseung, what’s up?”

“Need you to come inside for a second.” Heeseung nonchalantly spoke out as he turned and lazily plops himself on the couch. HIs manager followed closely behind and took a seat across, looking at the young man intently before raising the concern yet again. “Everything alright?”

“You really have to ask?” Heeseung peeks from under his elbow as he drapes an arm over his eyes. He really didn’t like to make eye contact when it came to the topic of girls and dating…and this wasn’t going to be any easier. “I need a woman…”

“.....you mean….a date?” his manager tries to confirm, before a snappy Heeseung gently corrects him.

“Not to date….I need a woman…I need skin…flesh…hair….and nails to dig into my skin with a feminine voice to scream out my name.”

“....so you want a prostitute?”

“NOT A PROSTITUTE!” on the verge of losing it, Heeseung sits up rather abruptly as he squares his gaze over to his manager. He really wasn’t trying to be impatient or unpleasant, he was in a vulnerable state of mind. No man should ever go so long without feel the pleasures of someone else’s body, especially someone who is constantly surrounded by all these pretty little fans that were filling his mind with all sorts of sordid thoughts….them with their perfect makeup, the sweet fragrances of their perfume and those damn long and elegant acrylic nails. Day in and day out, he’s surrounded by feminine energy, it all contributed to this sexual demise he was falling into. “I’m just going to put it this way….if you don’t find me someone that can keep their mouth shut, and spend one night with me, then I am going to lose it. I’m on the verge of doing reckless things, and I can’t control it. Just find me someone that isn’t a prude but isn’t desperate.”

The manager knew Heeseung well enough to know when the young man was on the road to destruction, this was one of them. The heat of anger coming from his eyes was enough to tell him what he had to do. The hardest factor about this thing is finding someone suitable, not only in appearance but in their manners; he’d have to be cunning and covert.

Five hours in, he nearly fell to the ground in defeat when suddenly…

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“Hm? Yes?”

“You dropped this back at the last walkway.”

“Oh!...Thank you….”

You turned to continue on with your own business when the gentleman spoke out in haste, you had assumed it was because he wanted to thank you once again for returning his wallet, but the tune of his wording made you realize that that wasn’t the case.

“Young lady, I have a proposition for you…do you have a minute?”

…………………….

A half hour later, after an internal hesitant debate, you caved in at the young man’s offer. You weren’t the type to ever hook up with a random man, even an idol, but the fact that you had been running dry since your last break up over a year ago, and not to mention the exquisite monetary offer that would cover three months of your rent, which would leave you that much stress free from everything else going on. Your final year in college has been more demanding than the previous, so much that you had to quit your part time job, which left you struggling financially. All of this led to the perfect combination of desperation, sexually frustrated, and mentally drained. By the time he mentioned that a non-disclosure agreement would mandate that both you and the idol would refrain from exposing your identities, you accepted.

Expressing that you wanted to get it done and over with, the man took you to the lavish hotel room, the most expensive in your home country. You weren’t entirely sure how you felt, being taken to an extremely fancy hotel room to meet a young and handsome performer and spend one night with him…for sex. Should you bail out now?

“We’re here. Here’s the key card, it’s on the third floor, room number 306.”

You take the key card and paused, thinking for a moment if you should just tell him that the deal was off. But the subtle push over towards the elevator pretty much sealed your night.

You walked through the narrow corridor, staring at the gold engraving of the numbers on the key card. With a deep breath, you gently knocked on the door before inserting the key. “Hello?” you gently speak out as you open the door. The entire room was dimmed with a golden hue with no one in sight; the massive bed topped with goose feather pillows and comforter sets up an enticing welcome as you breach closer to the main layout.

“Well hello.”

You turned in haste upon hearing the deep voice from behind, and saw him. He was leaning back against the wall, behind the door panel side. No wonder you didn’t see him when entering, the wide door swing provided enough cover for him to remain elusive yet still having enough sight to observe how delectable you look. His manager outdid himself.

“Oh…hi…I’m sorry…my name is–”

“Y/N…”

“Y-yeah…”

The manager must have already texted the idol your name. You couldn’t lie, this entire thing was uncomfortable, and you were on the verge of backing out when the man started to walk over, stepping into the warm light. He had a handsome face, and was tall…very tall, but of all things that got to you, was the glaring look he had in his eye. He looked hungry, famished even, with the way he stroked his finger across his lips as he tilted his chin downard, arms loosely crossed as he took each step steadily.

“Um…I’m not sure…if I should–”

“You’re already here…might as well get it going.”

He grabbed onto your shoulders, proceeding to walk forward as he herd’s you backwards until your back meets the opposite wall. He really was hungry, and unfortunately for you, it was contagious. WIth the way his hands roamed all over our body, the way his mouth immediately latched onto your throat, and the way his fingers ripped your blouse apart, sending buttons flying all over, he was a demon tainting every sense of rationality in your mind and you loved it. Still, you were experiencing hesitancy, but the moment he peeled your bra down and began sucking on your nipples, leaving squelching kisses the soft skin on your mounds. “W-wait…”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he drags you down onto the ground, pushing you back to lay you down, leaving you completely vulnerable. He had to be hurting with the way he was feasting on your body, so much that you wondered exactly just how long he had gone without it, and was it longer than you?

“I-I…” was all you could manage to stutter when he started to lift your skirt, ruffling it around your waist as he fingers the damask lining of your thigh high stockings. With a mouthful of your skin, he muffles his burning desire. “Stop trying to push me away…I’ve been hurting for so long.”

You ignored his words as you continued to create some distance. You were torn, he felt so good rubbing your curves but also made you feel scared with how pushy and forceful he was becoming. You nearly screamed out when the sudden warmth of soft, plush lips tenderly kissed your clitoris. Being so caught up with his mannerisms, you hadn’t realized that he dragged and tore your panties off, leaving you bare and exposed. The way his tongue circulated around and pressed in between the folds of your womanhood caused you to drop your hands to your side, no longer putting up any resistance. He kept going, licking and twirling his tongue around, making your head spin vigorously as he committed the only gentle act of the night, which was placing his hands on your inner thighs and pushing them apart as he buried his face deeper into your core.

You moaned out in extreme ecstasy, arching your back and digging your hips downward. You gulped down hard swallows as you try to catch your breath, but the sensation of his nose and mouth inducing the most pleasure you’ve felt in over a year had you inadvertently suppressing screams, choking on your own breaths.

“O-oh!...Oh my God! P-please!” You dug your fingernails into the floorboard, squinting your eyes shut as you gasped out your moans, he went in faster and flickered his tongue deeper while shoving it inside your cavity. Groaning out his pleasures, he growls as he thrusts it in and out. He closes your legs together, pressing them closer to your chest as he wraps his arms around your thighs, still slurping and thrusting his oral muscle. Propping his stature on the caps of his knees, he hugs your thighs close to his chest as he lifts your derriere from off the floor as he brings you closer to the edge. HIs face shoved in against your taint, his slick tongue going in and out at a vigorous momentum, the faint echoes of his cheeks slapping into you as the impact caused your body to shift up while he had you partially levitated did you in, and you screamed out your moans. With your thighs shook, lips quivered, and chest heaving, you laid restlessly as the hot stream of fresh tears escaped from the outer corners of your closed eyes. Your heavy breathing became a rewarding sight as he remained in his kneeling position, unbuckling his belt. A smirk creeps up on his face as he sheds off his attire, chuckling in a demeaning manner as he looks down at you, somewhat pitifully and yet adoringly.

“Oh pretty thing…the night is just getting started. Got a lot of pent up frustration in me, and unfortunately, I’m about to take it out all on you. Now…grab it…and scream out my name.”

……………………..

Days had passed since that night, and you still felt sore in between your legs. It was stingy, yet the pulsating rampage also reminded you of the greatest pleasure you had felt in all your life. Not even your ex-boyfriend, the one who was known to frequent the college campus girls, could even make you feel remotely as good. Must be an idol thing, either that or there must be something in the water in South Korea. Too bad you’ll never see him again.

You were making your way over towards the bus station ahead, when a large crowd blocked your way.

“Oh come on…” you tilted your head left, and right, all to find a small loophole within the bustling groups of young girls screaming their heads off and flashing dozens of pictures. You shuffled your way through, not paying any mind to your surroundings, when all of a sudden a young fellow dressed in black approaches you.

“Miss y/n?”

“Yes?...who are you?”

The man declines to answer, instead, he hands you a folded piece of paper. You unfolded it to read the contents, looking rather confused.

‘Hey pretty thing, you free tonight?’

Looking up, the staff member smiles as he points to the side, indicating for you to look in that direction. Turning your head over shoulder, you were stunned to see the man from the other night, the idol who violated you with his tongue and cock, had you begging for more until the wee hours of the early morning. It was him…

“Oh my God is he looking at me?!”

“No he’s looking at me!”

“Heeseung! Heeseung!”

All the girls waved and jumped, but the direct eye contact and small smirk told you of who he truly was looking at. He sends off a wink which had all the girls pool into an emotional and hormonal mess, leaving only you standing upright, with his eyes still looking directly into your own, he silently mouths out the words to you.

“My…pretty….thing.”

505 notes · View notes

lbxbx · 9 months ago

Text

Blackmail 3 | KTH

Pairing: Idol!taehyung x reader

Genre: smut, angst. Five shot

Synopsis: being part of their staff meant you had to be around them all the time, Taehyung has a checklist of all the girls he slept with and filmed and you were next on the list, as he lures you using several ways one of them being actually showing you the content he films, before you finally give in and he actually films you to tick you off of his list. Little do you know it’s the biggest mistake ever.

Disclaimer: events and incidents in this fiction are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. This does not resemble Taehyung’s character whatsoever. taglist: @idkduewhy @wiebouquetbarbarian @tan-veee @pookiej @xstfudaisyx @junecat18 @whipwhops @mother2onsters @lil0u0 @whoa-jo

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It’s been almost a month, nothing changed really and he was right, during the whole tour you two kept it professional around the rest of the team, but not like all of the time, he would on purpose bite onto your fingers when you’re putting on his makeup, or even graze his elbow against your tits when you two are standing next to each other, but other than that you two kept it professional to avoid the rumors.

their tour ended a couple days ago and they planned a celebration dinner for the entire staff at a nearby restaurant for barbeque and you wouldn’t say no, they were nice enough to give everyone a raise and a few days off as a reward, so tonight was the last dinner before you get back to work this Monday to film their variety show.

You had woken up early to go and buy yourself the car you were saving for and you finally did, it had to stay at the agency for a couple more days for the license plate and papers, but you were at your best that day. The moment you get into the restaurant you are welcomed by everyone cheering around and raising their shot glasses and welcoming you in, you hug your friends and get seated with them before taking off your cardigan.

That day your mood was top notch, you felt strong and proud of yourself, you finally got your car, you adore your job that introduced you to so many nice people and you were really feeling your best. You got dressed into a white summer dress with spaghetti straps, and you can’t lie, you wanted to bring the attention to your tits.

The staff cheers again when the boys walk into the restaurant and they take their seats. And even when you know that what happened the other time was a one time thing, but fucking god Taehyung looked like a fucking snack. Nothing special really, but his gray sweatpants are going to be the end of you, you try your best to keep your eyes off of him and act occupied.

As the food is served and the atmosphere around the place was incredible, everyone was happy, some were even too drunk and dancing while chewing on their food, everyone was chatting and catching up, it felt like home to you, and you wouldn’t risk losing your job for anything.

On the other hand though, Taehyung is nodding his head to his manager who was telling him about his family nonstop but Taehyung doesn’t care, he’s not even sure he’s listening at this point.

He was searching for you the entire night, and right when his eyes landed on you the alcohol was already going through his system and he can feel his body heating up. He finds himself having flashbacks of how perfect your cunt wrapped around his cock when he was fucking you that night, he still didn’t get enough and he’s thirsty for more.

You made a great choice wearing the white dress because it did bring his attention to your tits, he clears his own throat at the thought of going down on you and fuck he needs you tonight.

You can easily tell that someone was looking and you know exactly who, so you turn your head away on purpose and gather your hair away from your neck to reveal more of your chest, this ignites him even more and all he knows is that he’s up on his feet excusing himself away from his manager and making his way to you.

“Good evening girls.” He leans his palm on the table with a toothy smile on his face. “Are you having fun?” He laughs on the inside and he finds it funny that he fucked every girl that was seated around this table.

“Yes!” Leah pours him some Soju and hands him the shot glass. “Have a drink with us.”

“Some other time, but hey Y/N, can we talk?” He tilts his head, everyone was too drunk to make a big deal out of it so you just nod your head and pull your chair back to get up onto your feet. He puts his hand on your lower back and walks a couple steps away from the table. “You look incredible tonight.”

“Oh yeah? How’d you like the dress?” You ask already knowing the answer, he high key stares down onto your tits and takes a step closer. “Would love to take it off of you tonight.”

You giggle and cross your arms. “I’ll take that as a yes, I got it when we were in the states last week.”

“Mhm, it brings out your tits.” He puts his hands in his pocket, his eyes still locked onto your chest. “Wanna come over tonight? I’m having an after party.”

You were never invited to after parties so you didn’t mind at all. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind, your place?” You ask, and he shakes his head right away. “No, I can’t risk something breaking or the apartment being messed up and getting dirty, I actually rented a B&B for the night.”

“Sure, I’ll be there.” You laugh when you realize that his eyes are not still not moving. “Is it an actual party or is it just us? Cause it sounds suspicious.”

“No, I promise it’s not just us.” He finally looks up at you and leans in to kiss you on the cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, I’m sending you the location right now.”

“Sure, I’ll see you tonight.”

He walks back to his table, this time pulling the seat next to Jungkook who’s digging into the pork belly. “So? How did it go?”

“She’s coming, you can consider it done.” Taehyung grabs onto the closest pair of chopsticks and grabs a bite. “I’ll leave first and set up the cameras.”

“Cool.”

Jungkook has probably watched your video with Taehyung more than Taehyung himself, and he’s been itching the entire time wanting to spend a night with you, he kept nagging wanting his friend to try and plan out a night or you three, and ever since they walked into the restaurant Jungkook thought it’s the perfect opportunity.

“Look just tell her it’s a fake party or something.”

“She’s not that stupid Jungkook, she’ll figure it out.” Taehyung gritted on his own teeth, he’s had enough and at this point he just wants things to get done with just to stop the nagging from the younger one.

“Just invite her over to your place or something, please.” He’ll shed tears if he needed.

“Alright fine.”

And it’s not until approximately 3 hours later, and people start leaving, you get up and put your cardigan on and grab your purse. “I’ll see you guys on Monday,”

“But hey, we’re going out with the girls to this club a couple blocks away, aren’t you joining us?” One of your girl friends asks, you look at your phone screen to check the time before straight up lying to her. “I can’t, I’m really tired and I have to go home, but hey, have fun.” You wave your hand goodbye and walk out of the restaurant before hearing someone calling out your name from behind and following you outside. “Y/N, wait up.”

You turn to the owner of this voice and it’s Jungkook, holding his car keys and wallet and running outside. “Oh hey, what’s up?”

“You’re going to Taehyung’s place? I can drive you there, I’m going there too.” He points his head towards his car.

“Oh, you don’t have to, he sent me the location I’ll call a cab or something.” You unlock your phone, he laughs and puts his hand behind your back. “Let me drive you there, come on.”

You don’t argue anymore and just follow him to his luxurious car, your ride there was quiet but not awkward at all, only the sound of his radio playing music was in the background along with the sound of the wind through the open windows.

“I guess it’s right here.” He finally parks his car, it wasn’t that far away but you can hear music blasting in the dark alleys, “Do you know who else is invited?”

“I know the rest of the boys couldn’t make it, but it’s mostly people you know.” You two leave the car and get into the building, Jungkook waves hello to the security guard near the gate and the guard smirks. Jungkook and Taehyung are recurrent visitors to this B&B and almost every time they show up with a different girl. “Have a pleasant evening Mr. Park.”

Yeah, he just called him that because the boys used fake names all the time when it came to such activities.

You both take the elevator to the 28th floor, the elevator doors open right into a huge apartment that was nearly empty, only two guys handshaking Taehyung and saying goodbye, before getting into the elevator and leaving. “Hey, where’s everyone?” Jungkook walks further inside, totally knowing that there won’t be anyone else but the three of you.

“They’re on their way.” Taehyung proceeds with the lie, before inviting you inside, again his hand on your lower back guiding you onto the leather couch. “Tequila?” He grabs out the bottle with a couple shot glasses.

“Yeah, sure.” You make yourself comfortable, Jungkook sits right next to you, you find it a little concerning when he’s sitting really close, his leg grazing against yours. “Kook?” Taehyung offers a drink.

“No thanks, I’m driving.” It makes you a little relieved that at least someone will stay sober. “Here you go.” Taehyung hands you the shot glass and clinks his own with yours. “Cheers.”

You gulp down the shot and grab the bottle to examine it. “It doesn’t taste half bad, I like it.”

“Here, let me pour you some more.” He grabs the bottle and pours you down another shot, before refilling his own and clinking it with yours, and the two of you throw your heads back when taking the shots. Gosh, why is it getting hot in here?

Jungkook gets up onto his feet and stands behind the couch, his hands landing onto your shoulders. “Can I help you with your jacket?” He asks, as if he knew you were started to feel overheated, you nod your head and pull your hair to the side as he helps you take off your cardigan, Taehyung who’s sitting next to you runs his fingers down your forearm and whispers. “So how was your vacation?”

Jungkook pours you another shot of tequila and puts the shot glass on the coffee table in front of you, before taking back his seat this time even sitting closer to you, your attention was on Taehyung the entire time as you were genuinely telling him about your vacation even when he truly doesn’t care, he’s just using the small talk as a way to distract you from realizing that no one else was going to show up, and he was giving Jungkook the chance to make a move on you.

And it was already planned ahead, as you were talking, you feel Jungkook’s fingers tugging your hair behind your ear and moving down to your neck and back, slowly and gently rubbing small circles to make you relax in your seat and it works in a click of a button, your eyes feel heavier and your body is heating up even when the cardigan is long gone.

You turn your head towards the younger one but Taehyung quickly asks. “Oh and what else did you buy?” Making you turn your head back to him, and Jungkook takes the chance to run his finger right under the straps of your dress and pulls it down, this time he wouldn’t resist the urge to put his lips right onto your shoulder to kiss you there making you flinch in your seat. “Jungkook?”

Taehyung nudges Jungkook from behind your back and laughs as he grabs your shot glass to hand it to you. “Here, have this.”

Jungkook adjusts his seat when he’s warned by the oldest and gets up onto his feet. “Should we put on some music?”

“Oh yeah, totally.” Taehyung walks towards Jungkook as they start flipping through their playlist to start the music, you grab your glass and drink the shot before putting it down, you’re already feeling lightheaded and your fingertips are on fire for some reason. You rarely had tequila unless you were going out with your friends or partying, tonight was neither of the occasions but it’s doing things to your body.

You lean back onto the couch and close your eyes for a second, you flinch again when you feel a set of hands on your shoulders. “Here, let me help you relax.” Jungkook stands behind you and rubs your shoulders, moving down to your neck and rubbing your skin, slowly but surely approaching again to kiss your neck, sending shivers down your body and spine. “Mmm.”

You’re definitely conscious but totally not oriented anymore, your tolerance for alcohol wasn’t really good so you got drunk way too fast. “Let me help you take those off.” Taehyung gets down on his knees, grabbing your foot in his hand and unbuckling your sandals to take them off, gently rubbing your feet that are heating up as well. He presses one kiss onto your ankle with his eyes locked onto yours and moves up to your calves.

“Mmm.” Rings in your ear when Jungkook fondles with the straps of your dress again, this time briefly pulling it down to reveal your shoulders and a little bit of your cleavage, licking there and nibbling small bites all over your skin. “Shit.” Barely escapes your mouth, you can’t keep up with both at the same time, especially when Taehyung has already reached your thigh and he’s biting onto you too. He pulls back and stands up again. “Let’s take her to bed Jungkook.”

And Jungkook doesn’t think twice before yanking his shirt off, Taehyung grabs you by your hands and walks you towards the bedroom that seems to be prepared and it hits you right now that this was planned for. You look around the room to see three tripods set up on the corners of the room which makes you turn to look at Taehyung. And what even possessed you? You shoot a smirk at him and tilt your head. “Are we filming this?” And by the way, the sober you wouldn’t have accepted this at all.

Did they even put something in your drinks? Of course they can’t, you only blame the tequila for this.

“Yeah.” Taehyung throws off his top too and walks behind you to put his hands onto your hips, pulling you close to him, “Do you see Jungkook right there?”

“Mhm.” You stare at the youngest, you’ve seen his body all the time at work but this time it’s making you wet when you see him topless with a boner begging to be released from his sweatpants. “Jungkook has been thinking about you the entire time, wanting to make you feel good just like I did before, and we can’t let him down, can we?”

“What do you say princess?” Jungkook walks closer, rubs his nose against yours and bites onto your lower lip. “I think I can fuck you better than he did.”

Your body is heating up again and your face is bright red when you’re sandwiched between the two, Taehyung’s clothed erection poking your ass and Jungkook’s erection poking your lower stomach. “No blindfolds this time.” Your condition makes Taehyung giggle from behind you before he collects your hair away from your neck and whispers. “No blindfolds this time.”

Jungkook’s tattooed hand grazes onto the skin of your thighs before it lands right onto your covered cunt, his lips that are hovering over yours curl into a smirk when he feels your cunt pulsating against the moist thin piece of fabric, he presses his hand to locate your clit and proceeds to rub it in circular motion, his lips finally connecting to yours for a single kiss. “That’s it.” Taehyung whispers from behind you, his hands still on your hips and slowly scrunching up your dress in his hands to reveal your little white panty, his hands grope onto the flesh of your ass tightly leaving trails of his fingernails.

You throw your head back against Taehyung’s chest when Jungkook’s fingers move faster. Jungkook knows the female body well too, so with a quick glance to your chest that rises faster he can tell you’re already aroused enough and ready to cum any second now, but he can’t let you cum right now, the night is still young and he’s planning to fuck your soul out of your body.

He pulls back and takes off his sweatpants, Taehyung throws your dress off and takes a seat onto the bed, and just like the first time, he butters up his bread by holding your hand to come closer and sit onto his leg, cupping your face closer to kiss you, your lips parting for his tongue and your hands holding his head slowly making your way to scratch the back of his hair softly. Taehyung’s hands are slowly moving to your back to unclasp your bra and reveal your swollen tits.

Jungkook gets into the bed and leans his head against the headboard. “Come here princess.” Jungkook seems to be a lot softer than Taehyung and you clearly remember hearing the girls from the staff mentioning that he was romantic and sweet in bed.

But you also heard one of the girls mentioning that she couldn’t walk after she spent a night with these two. Well at least tomorrow you have the day off so you can rest.

You obey and climb the bed, crawling on your hands and knees towards Jungkook and he pulls you in for a kiss again, his hands moving down to his own boxers to palm his boner. “I wonder if my dick can fit in that little mouth, do you think we can try?”

And you hook your fingers onto the top of his boxers and pull them down slowly, his hardened cock escaping it and almost hitting you in the face making you giggle. Again, you blame the alcohol.

You grab his cock into your hand while locking your eyes into his, stroking it gently and licking the tip once, you were too distracted with what’s in your hand to not focus on Taehyung, who’s already fully naked and climbing on the bed too, positioning his head between your legs, his arms hook around your thighs and he pulls you fully down to land on his face.

It drives Jungkook feral when he sees your eyes slowly closing and your jaw dropping down at the contact of Taehyung’s warm mouth to your clit. He grabs his own cock and the back of your hair, pointing the tip to your lips and slowly pushing your head down to take more of his cock into your mouth. “Mmm.” Your other hand lands onto the bed and you grab the bed sheets into your fists when Taehyung wraps his mouth around your clit. It was so arousing and you almost feel like this is too good to be true.

The tip of Jungkook’s cock hits the back of your throat making him gasp and pull you away. “You look so fucking beautiful with that cock in your mouth. Hyung get the camera.”

You whine when you feel the warmth of Taehyung’s mouth drifting apart from your cunt, he gets up and takes one of the cameras off of the tripod and hands it to Jungkook. The youngest grabs the camera and points it towards you, he doesn’t bother looking at you when he can clearly see your face from the tiny screen on the camera.

His grip gets tighter on your hair and he pulls you down to suck onto his cock again, bobbing your head up and down still not reaching your throat. And in the meanwhile Taehyung gets back in his earlier position and wraps his mouth around your cunt, flicking his tongue against your entrance and even pushing it inside to stretch your pussy with it, your back arches when he sucks onto your clit like there’s no tomorrow, you try and move your hips away from him but he hugs onto your legs making you fully sit on his face.

“Mmm.” Jungkook’s cock is making you choke on words and you can barely make a sound specially when he pushes further inside your mouth, this time the tip poking your uvula and making you gag and try to pull back, his grip onto your hair tightens and he pulls you up, zooming in with the camera to show the strings of your saliva connecting your mouth to his cock that’s already leaking precum. “You’re doing so good princess, do you think you could do it again?”

“Fuck.” Is all you manage to moan off of the top of your lungs when you feel Taehyung’s fingers enter your pussy, slowly curling them against your spot and thrusting them in and out, your wetness already covering his fingers and dripping down his palm. Your cunt clenches around his fingers and swallows the two digits inside which makes Taehyung mumble. “Fuck.” Your pussy was getting greedy for more.

Jungkook pushes his cock back into your mouth and moves his hips up to meet your lips, your eyes shut tightly and your tears stream down your cheeks when you gag again this time audibly, making Taehyung spank you on the ass and dig his fingers into your flesh. “Good fucking girl, Ugh.. that’s it.” Jungkook was pretty vocal in bed.

Your hand lands onto his big thigh and tap it repeatedly, begging for him to pull out so you can catch a breath, and he pulls back to watch you gasp for a breath, your nails dig into his skin and you look onto his lips, feeling over stimulated from the man that’s sitting between your legs. “Fuck I’m gonna cum.” If you’d only see how you looked in the camera, it was phenomenal.

“What do you say Jungkook, should I make her cum?” Taehyung asks, pushing one more digit into your thirsty pussy making you scratch onto Jungkook’s skin, your hips slowly grinding against his fingers. “Please make me cum.” You beg, holding onto Jungkook’s dick into your hand and stroking it. “Please.”

“Don’t make her cum.” Jungkook throws the camera down and gets up to switch positions with Taehyung, sitting behind you with your ass facing him, he spanks you on the ass again and buries his face into your ass, licking your puckered hole and teasing your entrance with his fingers, “Holy fuck.” You reach your hand back to hold onto his long dark hair and push him closer into your ass, in the mean time Taehyung grabs your face into his hands and pulls you in to kiss you once before whispering. “Do you think it’s fair if you blow his dick and don’t blow mine?”

He strokes his cock and points the tip to your mouth and gets a tight grip of your hair, before thrusting his hips up to meet your mouth, repeatedly fucking your mouth and the only sound you can hear is your throat clicking with each thrust, and Jungkook’s hums as he savors your juices that are flooding out of your cunt. He swears he’s never tasted a pussy like yours.

You’re already fucked, your cunt was clenching around Jungkook’s tongue with each gag you release, your fingernails are digging into Taehyung’s thighs and your throat is done for today. Taehyung pulls back just to observe your fucked up face and it scratches the itch inside him to see you like that, all messy and drooling from being fucked in the face by his cock.

“Come here.” He lays down completely on the bed and pulls you away from Jungkook’s grip, his hand reaching down to massage your entrance with the head of his cock and smacking it against your wetness. Jungkook sits up behind you and strokes his dick too before pointing it to your butt hole, your soul escapes your body when they both enter you at the same time and you could swear you see stars.

The magical stretch in your pussy caused by Taehyung sends you to heaven, and it’s more arousing to him when he feels your cunt hogging his dick and clenching around it, slowly pushing more inside you until he’s balls deep, not giving you a second to adjust. His eyes are locked onto your face when your body stiffens, he could easily pound into you all night and he’ll still be hungry for more.

And the cherry on the top was the stretch you feel in your ass, Jungkook whimpers and grips tightly onto your ass when he feels how tight your hole was around his cock, it drives him insane enough that he feels himself seconds away from painting your insides with his seed, he takes a second to breath before pushing in further inside, he grits onto his own teeth and throws his head back. “You’re fucking incredible princess.”

And you, goodness you were doomed, your entire spine stiffens when Jungkook enters you more but your back arches when Taehyung gets balls deep inside you, this is so overwhelming to you and you never tried this, it takes a single twitch from Jungkook’s cock inside you to make you cum, Taehyung being the first one to notice when you clench around him smirks, he grabs your face closer and laughs. “Your princess is creaming on my cock.” He tells Jungkook, and Jungkook is not even listening he’s in his own world.

Both of them start moving in and out of you in sync to fuck you through your orgasm, you can barely balance on your own hands so your entire upper body lands on top of Taehyung, your silent cries in his ears are more than enough evidence that you’re as aroused as they are. “Don’t stop.” Is what you manage to say, one hand barely moving behind you to grab Jungkook’s thigh and dig into his skin too. “Please..”

Both of them pound into you not giving you a break after your orgasm, only minutes after you feel yourself building pressure on the inside and you know you’re about to cum again if they don’t stop. “Shit.” You whine when you feel Jungkook pulling out of you, he taps Taehyung on the thigh once and they switch positions again.

This time Jungkook enters your vagina and Taehyung pushing into your ass making you scream off of the top of your lungs, Taehyung proceeds to fuck you in the ass endless when he knows you’re prepped enough for him to pound into you fearless. But for Jungkook, it takes him a second to appreciate how your cunt wraps around his cock, he grabs your head into his hands and pulls you in to kiss you, pressing his forehead against yours and slowly making his own pace to move inside you.

“Mmm, fuck.” Your fist clinches the bed sheets behind Jungkook and you look him in the eyes. “You’re gonna make me cum again.”

“Cum for me princess.” He wraps his fingers around your neck and finally starts moving inside you, the friction from both dicks hitting your spots over and over makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head and again you lose your balance and land on Jungkook, he wraps his arms tightly around your body to get a better grip and pounds into you again, Taehyung on the other hand is seconds away from busting a nut and he’s debating in his head whether he should cum inside you or not, Jungkook’s penetration is making your ass tighten around Taehyung’s cock and it feels fucking insane inside you. And to make you cum faster he reaches his hand down to your clit to rub it in a circular motion.

“Fuck, fuck…” This was your end, your back arches one last time and you squirt against Jungkook’s dick hard enough to push him out, Taehyung still rubbing your clit and fucking your ass through your orgasm, your body shudders and you suffer to catch a breath again.

Jungkook is milliseconds away from reaching his end as well, he gets up onto his feet and grabs you by your wrist to pull you down onto the floor onto your knees. Both of them stand right by your face and stroke their dicks a couple last times before releasing their load onto your face and neck, and you don’t know what is it but you can’t like the taste of it whatsoever, this time luckily you didn’t gag like the time before, you were able to control yourself.

Taehyung as usual, gets into the bathroom and you hear the shower water running, but Jungkook… He stayed.

Even when there’s another bathroom and he could easily go shower, but he decided to stay, he grabs a nearby towel and a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and wetting the towel to clean your face gently, he goes down onto his knees still breathless and whispers. “I think you deserve to be taken care of after giving me one of my best fucks ever.”

You barely laugh and hug your arms closer to your body to cover it, he hands you the water bottle and helps you take a couple of sips. “Are you feeling okay?” He can see your hands shaking.

“Mhm, I’m just sore, that’s all.” You look around the room trying to locate your dress, Jungkook follows your eyesight and stands up. “I’ll go grab your dress.”

Of course you were thankful that he’s here but still, he doesn’t owe you anything and you could easily clean yourself up and just go home, but he grabs your clothes and helps you put them back on, “Thanks.” You grab the bed for support but Jungkook helps you up. “Jungkook call her a cab.” You hear Taehyung from the bathroom, but Jungkook rolls his eyes and leaves the bedroom to put his clothes back on. “Come, I’ll drive you.”

“You know you don’t have to.”

“Come on Y/N, let’s go.”

Monday comes in a blink of an eye, you were feeling a lot better and this time you didn’t need the painkillers, it seems like you’re slowly getting used to it and honestly you don’t like the fact that you are.

Your eyes almost pop out of their sockets when you remember the fact that you were filmed that night, but hey come on, what’s the worst that could happen? You’ll just end up on his phone like any other content. You can’t deny you’re a little embarrassed, not only you were filmed, but you had your first threesome ever that night, it felt good and all but it was with the guys you work with and you have to see this morning.

You promised yourself sincerely that this cannot happen again no matter what, you know it can cause trouble for the two of you, well right now it’s for the three of you, but it can’t happen again and you have to keep your promise to yourself.

“We’re starting in 10 minutes.” The producer shouts for everyone, and you finish your last touches on Taehyung with the sitting spray. “You’re all good.”

“Thank you.” He leans forward towards the mirror to check out his face. “What do you think about that night?”

“Not bad, but it can’t happen again.” You carefully whisper low enough so you can’t be heard.

“I know right? I don’t think I liked the attention stolen away from me—“

“No Taehyung. The whole thing in general, it can’t happen again.”

“Let me help you change your mind, come here.” He leaves his chair and grabs your wrist to pull you out of the makeup room into another room in the studio. “Remember the first time we slept together? Back in London.”

“Yeah.” How could you forget?

“Don’t be mad, but I filmed us having sex.” He looks at you, waiting for your face to change, and you giggle in disbelief. “Of course you didn’t, I didn’t see any cameras.”

“Well practically, you were blindfolded in the first half.” He shrugs and opens the movie on his phone, thinking he did something he’s going to be credited for, or thinking he did you a favor and you’re going to thank him any second now.

But cold sweat washed through your entire body, your limbs feel numb gradually all the way from your fingers to your shoulders, your ears are buzzing and you’re practically dizzy at the view you see. “You can’t be serious.”

The look of disbelief in your face was genuine. A couple days ago you were filmed with your consent, but that time you were filmed behind your back?

“Just watch it before you say anything, you’re gonna love it.”

“Why would you do that?” 15 minutes into the video you ask him, your hands barely able to hold onto his phone, at the point the amount of sweat your body released was enough to make you dehydrated, you kept swallowing repeatedly but your throat was dry.

“Well… you agreed to be filmed the other day didn’t you?”

“Oh so that makes it okay to do it?” You argue. “Is this why you blindfolded me? So I wouldn’t see you filming?”

“Y/N you’re being delusional.” The audacity on this man to gaslight you.

“Delusional? How exactly am I delusional?” You push him. “Taehyung you literally filmed me without my consent, this isn’t delusional this is a fucking crime.”

He breaks into laughter, totally unbothered to look back at you. “Relax, I’ve already showed you content on my phone and yours will be like any of them, it just stays on my phone for reference, whether it was the one from London or the other night.”

“Yeah, it means you’re showing it to your next victim.” You shut your eyes tightly still wishing this is a nightmare of some sort. “Okay, let’s just calm down and choose the easy way out, delete them both.”

He scoffs at you as it you just told him a joke. “Of course I won’t, in fact next time we’re filming it again.”

“Let’s be clear, there will be no next time. And I’m in this video, don’t you think I have a say in it? Please delete it.”

“Well, I filmed, produced, and was in the video, I get a say in it too.” He finally gets up. “And honey, there will be a next time, and you will be filmed, otherwise, you’re not going to be happy with I might do.”

“You can’t force me Taehyung.” You take a step back, “Oh no, I’m not going to force you god forbid, you’re going to willingly come to me and ask to be filmed Y/N, and it’s for your own good.”

You watch him unlock his phone and replay the video again, this time your face is on full reveal right after you took your blindfold off. “I don’t think your family would be happy when they see their daughter being fucked till she can’t walk, and most importantly, I don’t think your superiors are going to be happy when they see you fool around with an idol.”

Oh my god, how did you not see this coming?

Of course someone who begs girls to get into bed and films them doesn’t just film them for his own pleasure. He films them all just to blackmail them into sleeping with him again, and obviously it worked on anyone.

But it can’t work on you, you’re smart and you will probably figure your way out of this at some point.

“I’m blindfolded and cuffed in the video you dumb fuck, it’s very clear I was the one forced into this.” Except you weren’t forced into this and that’s where the major problem is. You willingly went to his room and you agreed to sleep with him, and oral consent legally counts. And the other night the camera was right onto your face and you were totally okay with it. It’s partially your fault too for agreeing to go into this.

He turns the volume up with a smug smirk on his face as he proves to you that you weren’t forced into this.

“I need to cum. Taehyung please, don’t stop.”

“Again, please, do it again”

“Do you wanna be fucked or not?”

“Yes please.”

“But isn’t this you begging to be fucked?” He takes a step closer and you quickly snatch his phone and throw it across the studio which makes him get a grip of your wrist and forcefully push you to face the wall. “Listen sweetheart, we both know how much of a slut you are, you agreed on going through this willingly but we’re finishing this my way, so be a good girl and act smart for once.”

“Taehyung let go.” The tight grip on your forearm hurts, you tried to fight and push him away but you couldn’t when his body is fully pushed against you. “Please let go.” Your voice has already gone shaky, worried he’d do something to you or even hurt you more than he already did.

He could easily kill you and no one will find out considering everyone else was occupied on the set.

“Tomorrow night, I’m texting you the location, be there at 8, otherwise, it’s going to be a serious problem and you don’t want your life to be destroyed don’t you? I could just post that video and no one would look at you the same ever again, you’d lose your job and no one is going to hire you.” He feigns kindness and tugs your hair behind your ear before caressing the side of your face and pressing a kiss onto your cheek. “And I know you’re smart enough to not let that happen.”

You look at him over your shoulders as your tears roll down your cheek. “Save your tears, any attempts of messing around, I want you to keep in mind that I have several copies of that video.”

“What did I ever do to you?” You question him, wondering if you actually did anything to him before that he needs to take his revenge this way but no, you two always kept it professional but the way this man was built was unlike any other man.

A toxic grown up who uses his position, if it’s considered one, to blackmail women and manipulating them into fulfilling his weird kinks willingly. It sucks that you too fell into his trap.

He collects his phone and tilts his head while laughing psychotically. “My god, you actually look scared right now, you realize you don’t have to be, right? Don’t you trust me?”

Clearly not.

“Oh I get it, since this clip clearly contains you showing up to my room back in London, hmm.. a staff member showing up to an idol’s room, this obviously means that you were trying to persuade me into something, or worse, it could look like you’re actually seducing me.” He looks around pretending to think. “If that were the case I guess people should probably know, they might just go ahead and fire you and you’ll be labeled for the rest of your life as the staff member who actually harassed the idol.”

“What are you? And how are you hiding all of this?” Your chest heaves, the man has already planned anything ahead of time and he clearly knows how to set you up if you don’t show up to your sex appointment, but it wasn’t only you who’s threatened. These exact same words were told to everyone, hence they all slept with him again and again.

“I don’t want this video out either, but it’s all up to you right now baby.” He puts on his shirt and collects his stuff. “See you tomorrow.” He presses another kiss to your cheek and leaves the workout room leaving you standing against the wall helpless.

You don’t know what’s next, but you surely know that you can’t have sex with him ever again and you need to earn yourself time before tomorrow to be able to figure out a plan.

How come girls are treating him well even when he blackmailed them? They all slept with him but they never warned each other, gosh you’re starting to think that maybe you should talk to someone about this maybe they could help.

Help? How exactly when they fell into this trap before you and they surrendered to it and chose to agree and sleep with him again. You collect your stuff and head back home, you need to think or probably sleep on it before figuring an actual solution that will get you out of this.

Yeah, sleep on it, you scoff when it’s already past 3 in the morning and you’re still flipping in your mattress. It’s killing you that you’re totally clueless and nothings comes to your mind other than just give up and sleep with him again to save your career and your reputation.

You take your phone out and fully decide on texting him.

3:27 | You.

What do you want from me?

You’re crossing your fingers hoping that he’s awake, you see the read receipts within a minute before he calls you and you answer right away, you can’t waste anymore time.

“Why are you still up?”

“What do you want from me Taehyung?” You sit up adjusting the pillows behind your back. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“You’re making a big deal out of it.” He sounds like he’s half asleep. “You should be grateful that I’m just asking for sex nothing more.”

“You’re blackmailing me just for sex? Taehyung you literally slept with a countless amount of women, you can go sleep with any of them and just forget what we had.”

“Listen, I don’t have much time to argue about this, just do as I say and be there tomorrow—“

“I’m not gonna be there.” You argue right away, shrugging your shoulders as if he can see you.

“Oh really?” He scoffs. “Listen sweetheart, I’m sending the location right now, be there at 8, otherwise you know what’s going to happen.”

“You know what? You’re an obsessive piece of shit and you need to get help.” You hang up and throw your phone away.

Okay think, Y/N. Think.

He could easily post the video and you will easily lose your job and your reputation, but at the same time, what has he got to lose? There must be a way to stop this but you’re still not thinking well.

You were never an over thinker but tonight you are, imagining what would actually happen if he ended up posting the video, what would your agency think? What would his fans think?

Exactly.

He’s in the video too he can’t post it otherwise it would harm him too, you’re in the video cuffed and blindfolded, but he’s in the video spanking you with an actual belt and even slapping you and that’s considered assault. And the video from a couple nights ago, you’re a helpless woman sandwiched between two grown up men, it’s pretty clear that you were talked into it.

But you also need to set him up somehow, you’re thinking that you may have to go tomorrow night just to convince him that you’re okay with what he wants. You need to plan this carefully in order to take him down.

You have something, or an idea on how you’re going to set him up, but it’s going to cost you an extra night with him and you just have to force yourself in order to protect your career and what’s left of self worth.

“Good morning.” He enters the room and takes his top off, they’re filming another episode of their variety show before heading out to film something overseas next week. The rest of the staff get to work and you do too, putting the headband on to pull his hair back. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

He looks at your reflection for a second, your call ended last night with you calling him ill so he wasn’t sure if you were talking to him. “Oh yeah?” He sounds suspicious.

“Mhm.” You look around and lean forward to whisper in his ear. “I was watching this movie, and it made me want to try some things out with you.”

He was quickly lured into the subject and he low key thinks you’re being for real, he may be smart and shit, but he’s still a man, and men are so easy to seduce. He smirks and turns his head to face you. “What is it?”

“Remember when we discussed slapping before? You told me that I could ride your uhm.. you know.” You’re truly disgusted with yourself, are you really doing this?

Jungkook is watching your reflection through the mirror and he can see you inching forward to whisper into his ear which makes Taehyung bite onto his lip and close his eyes. “Yeah, we could totally do that, but hey what made you change your mind?”

Not only Jungkook is watching, but the rest of the girls on the staff are now sure that you two or onto something, and they pity you thinking you don’t already know who the real Taehyung is.

You print a kiss onto his ear and pull back, he looks up onto your lips and bites his own before whispering. “I could fuck you raw right here on this chair and I don’t care what people might say.”

You fake a giggle and continue doing your job, secretly wishing you could just stab him in the eye with a makeup brush or probably suffocate him with the band around his head. You feel your eyes filling up with tears. You can’t do this, it can’t happen again.

Taehyung hasn’t had enough time to produce the second movie of your night with Jungkook, his fogged up drunk brain from the other night recalls picking up the cameras and throwing them into his handbag and just going home, too tired to even transfer the files to his iPad or even think about editing them.

Luckily it’s all saved on the memory card so he kept procrastinating until he had enough time after finishing his schedule in the afternoon, he had to rent another B&B or a hotel room since he’ll never invite you to his own place, so he grabs his stuff and drives there to prepare anything and kill some time with editing.

He collects the three memory cards and starts digging through the files, but for some reason he can’t find them. He pouts in confusion and puts the memory cards back into the camera and opens it, searching through the filmed media, and weirdly enough, he can’t find a single video from that night.

Same thing goes for the other two memory cards, and nothing. Were the cameras never filming? Did they forget to press record?

There’s a reason why he has to be sober on nights like these, he needs to be conscious enough to be careful with what he does and how to handle his equipment.

He did in fact forget to press record, even the camera Jungkook had in his hand, there was nothing on it, none of the cameras were recording and you got lucky with that. There’s nothing to prove that you agreed to any of this.

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year ago

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*no rest for the wicked*

my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨

Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now.

A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:

Concert. Tickets.

That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?

Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.

“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.

Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”

“Translating to...?”

“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way.

“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.

“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”

Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him.

Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness.

Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body.

“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.

“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”

Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

Eddie nods twice.

“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”

There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.

Eddie claps, total deadpan.

The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers.

Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”

“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.

“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”

Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”

“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head.

“Oh? That’s a good thing?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…

The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”

The light flickers even darker.

Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy.

Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.

In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.

Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.

“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”

Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”

“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”

They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.

“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests.

Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”

“So you’re saying length matters?”

“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time.

And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.

Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.

“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.

Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”

“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.

“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking?

Fucking mortifying.

Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”

“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”

Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.

“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier.

Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”

Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too.

Probably.

“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.

“No?”

“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”

Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere.

He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.

He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible.

“Tell me what?”

Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.

“Tell me what, Ed?”

“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:

‘That I’m crazy about you.’

Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in.

Morning.

It’s morning.

“Shit.”

Eddie fell asleep.

Steve fell asleep.

“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:

10:24 a.m.

“Goddamnit!”

Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.

It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.

Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.

Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.

Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies.

He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.

Fucking yay.

“Chris, please don’t try to-”

His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.

She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”

“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.

Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.

But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.

Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.

“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”

He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

“Gay desperation?”

“No, you jackass. Come here!”

Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:

Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.

“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words.

Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”

“Liar.”

“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”

Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive.”

“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”

Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does).

He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve.

Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.

So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.

There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.

“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir.

Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night.

The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.

He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.

Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself.

“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”

“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #slight buckingham because I said so #lexssummerfanworkschallenge #biggest of shoutouts to lex for giving us this space to create and share together!!!#is the sleep depravation making Eddie good at flirting???#or is it all in his overactive imagination???#the world may never know #also Eddie is wearing one of Robin's shirts bc he never does laundry #that's not relevant - it's just a brainworm that he ironically wears her marching band tees #okay okay pls enjoy 💖#(and pretend I'm in a timezone where it's still August pls)

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 13 days ago

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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 23

Chapters: 23/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92, @bridkesby If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know.

You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!

As your physical illness persisted, Morpheus's absence from both your dreams and waking life only intensified your distress. Your biggest fear transformed into reality, with even more revelations coming to the surface.

Author's note: I had hoped to finish this chapter before the holidays, but I found myself unable to due to multiple reasons.

I suggest having tissues ready, as this update is quite emotional. While everything will be explained and resolved soon enough, this particular event, though heartbreaking, is necessary. Please bear with me! You'll learn more about the Reader and her "situation" as new details unfold, too.

Also, like I previously mentioned, I'm currently rewriting the old chapters to improve their quality and align them with my current writing style. It may take me a while.

The Dreaming felt strangely eerie and lacked its usual brightness, with rain pouring down as heavily as it had when Morpheus was exiled, sealed away from his realm and unable to control it.

It was disturbing and unnatural. With Morpheus missing for days and a mysterious illness causing your emotions to fluctuate wildly, a growing sense of unease consumed your thoughts day after day.

Although your new creative work assignment provided a much-needed distraction, you couldn't shake the gnawing fear churning in your stomach for multiple reasons. While Ella bounced around the office, checking social media and celebrating each new product request and purchase notification with impromptu dance moves, you felt completely disconnected from the office's upbeat atmosphere.

Upon receiving an invitation to model for Corbyn&Jones' latest jewelry collection, her infectious enthusiasm compelled acceptance. Through professional makeup artistry and a proper smile, you were confident in your ability to present a polished appearance despite your fatigue.

While the campaign achieved significant market success and engagement, you found yourself experiencing an unexpected sense of detachment from the accomplishment. Despite recognizing the need to schedule a consultation with Doctor Mills, you continued to postpone the appointment, using professional commitments as justification for the delay.

In truth, you were simply afraid to confront your deepest worries becoming reality.

"I don't want to alarm you, but if you experience stomach problems that last longer than five days, you should let me know right away,” he had warned you during a visit. “With your family history, we can't be too careful."

While your symptoms weren't as severe as your father's had been, the combination of eating difficulties, persistent nausea, and constant exhaustion was deeply concerning. The Dreamstone adorning your neck was intended to provide protection, but you questioned whether its safeguarding properties extended only to external forces, leaving you vulnerable to whatever internal affliction might be manifesting.

You needed Morpheus as much as you needed air to breathe, yet for some reason, he had never felt so far away.

You tried to rationalize his absence, telling yourself it wasn't serious. After all, Dream of the Endless was a powerful being who bore the weight of everyone's wellbeing on his shoulders. Though you longed to have him by your side, you understood his duties took precedence over everything else—perhaps even over his love for you.

You did the best you could to maintain a positive outlook, yet an undeniable sense of foreboding permeated your consciousness. The sensation came both physically and psychologically, particularly evident in the unsettling echoes that resonated through the forested landscapes of your dreams.

The Dreaming lay in turmoil, its mysterious affliction baffling you.

One night, you stood in a vast, barren field beneath a sky that was neither day nor night, just a faint, muted gray. The air hung stifling and oppressive, carrying only a dark silence broken by distant echoes that sounded like a mournful lament. When you turned toward the sound, the horizon stretched endlessly before you, offering no hint of its source.

Around you, the Dreaming existed in fragments and disrepair. The once-vivid flora had withered to mere shadows, while familiar places—your favorite glade and the garden where you and Morpheus had walked—flickered like dying embers, fading in and out of existence. Though you heard the distant sound of hooves, as if Astra were trying to reach you, the creature stayed hidden from view.

A faint light pierced the gloom like a dying star. You felt drawn to it, a tiny spark of hope against the crushing darkness. With trembling fingers outstretched, you whispered into the void: "Morpheus, please come to me!"

But no answer came. The dream dissolved completely, leaving you to wake in your bed with stinging eyes and a hollowness gnawing inside, the echo of your voice calling his name still lingering in the air.

What in the world was going on?

The library was still, its vast expanse of bookshelves and rolling ladders bathed in soft, melancholic light. At her desk, Lucienne meticulously cataloged a newly arrived tome, her brow furrowed with concern as she reflected of the realm's troubled state.

Outside, a haunting symphony of rain and thunder filled the air. The Dreaming had grown restless, its usual vibrancy dulled and its stability wavering.

The silence shattered as Matthew swooped in, his wings beating frantically and his demeanor uncharacteristically tense. He perched on the edge of Lucienne's desk, shifting nervously before fixing her with concern.

“So, uuhh” he began, his voice low and insistent. “Do you know what’s going on with the boss? He’s been quite... off.”

Lucienne paused, her quill hovering mid-air. “Off?”

"Yeah, you know—gloomy, silent. More than usual," Matthew elaborated. "I mean, he's not exactly Mr. Sunshine on a good day, but this? This is different. Stuff's weird and unstable, like it's feeding off his bad mood.”

Lucienne sighed deeply, setting her quill down. "I've noticed. Lord Morpheus has been unusually withdrawn. He either sends me back to the library or deliberately changes the subject whenever I try to speak with him."

Matthew ruffled his feathers, hopping closer. “Yeah, well, that’s not helping anyone. The Dreaming’s a mess, again. There are storms brewing in places that were peaceful a week ago. Some areas are just... disappearing, like they don’t know whether they should exist or not. And that howling? Yeah, Not creepy at all..."

Lucienne’s eyes darkened, the lines of her face deepening. “The howling...” she murmured. “It’s grief. Pain. And it seems to be coming from him, though he would never admit it.”

Matthew tilted his head. “But why? For what? Did something happen?”

“I suspect it may have something to do with her,” she said, choosing her words carefully.

“Her? You mean Y/N?”

“He hasn’t mentioned her name, but I’ve seen the signs. His avoidance, the strain in his bearing… she hasn't been seen around here at all lately."

Matthew let out a low whistle. “Man, the boss sure knows how to complicate things. So, what do we do? Just let him stew in his misery? If they've had a fight, they'll likely kiss and make up later. I mean, couples go through rough patches all the time.”

Lucienne adjusted her glasses, her expression growing grave. "I don't know. I sense this has to do with something else, something far more troubling."

Matthew tilted his head thoughtfully. “Troubling how?”

"I've yet to determine the cause. Perhaps you could prove useful," Lucienne suggested.

"Wait, me?"

“You have a way of getting through to him,” she said with a faint smile. “You’re blunt, unorthodox. You can say what I cannot.”

Matthew flapped his wings, exhaling a resigned sigh. “Great. No pressure, huh? Alright, I’ll give it a shot. But if he turns me into a puff of smoke, it’s on you.”

Lucienne’s expression softened, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Matthew."

As the raven disappeared into the shadows, caught between determination and dread, Lucienne sank back in her chair with a weary sigh. She could only hope that whatever darkness had seized their lord wasn't beyond the comfort of those who cherished him.

Throughout her extensive tenure as Morpheus’ librarian, she had never observed him in such a deep state of distress. She had been witness to countless moments across the spectrum of his experiences, from triumph to tribulation. The good, the bad, and yes, the utterly dramatic.

However, this situation was unprecedented in its severity and implications. Neither they nor Morpheus himself could grasp just how complex it truly was.

Morpheus sat on his throne, rigid and unmoving, his eyes locked intently on the Book of Paradoxes in his lap. The black leather tome caught the faint light, its obsidian and gold letters writhing across the pages as if alive. His fingers rested motionless on its surface as his mind wandered through a maze of thoughts. He had been consulting the book incessantly, hoping for a new interpretation that never emerged. No matter how the words shifted and molded themselves, their significance remained unchanged.

Avoiding your presence in his realm at night and ignoring your calls was the most excruciating act Morpheus had ever undertaken. His actions were driven solely by a desire to ensure your safety, though he meticulously examined the book's cryptic passages in search of alternative solutions that might alter the predicted course of events.

As time progressed, the possibility of a positive outcome grew increasingly remote, challenging what little hope he had left.

Matthew silently flew in, landing on the throne's armrest. He shuffled his wings, watching nervously as the Dream Lord closed the book and tucked it away. Morpheus appeared silent, offering no acknowledgment of the raven's arrival.

“Uh, hey, boss,” Matthew began, his tone hushed. “You’ve been in here for a while. Just thought I’d check in, y’know? See how you’re holding up.”

Morpheus was as still as marble, his darkened eyes wandering on some distant point, as though the raven's words drifted past him like echoes in darkness.

Matthew cleared his throat and continued. “So... Lucienne’s been worried. And, uh, not to snitch or anything, but the Dreaming’s been acting kinda weird too. You don’t exactly look like you’re winning ‘Most Cheerful Dream Lord of the Year,’ either.”

Morpheus’ fingers idly traced the throne's armrests with a touch both reverent and laden with frustration.

Matthew tentatively shifted closer. “Alright, look. I know something’s eating at you. Is it... her? Did you two have a fight or something?”

At the mention of you, Morpheus' hands froze. His head turned slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to reveal he had been listening all along. “I have not quarreled with her,” he said finally, his voice low and clipped.

“You didn’t? Well, that’s good I suppose,” Matthew replied hastily. "You see, Lucienne's been wondering why Y/N hasn't visited the castle these days. We were thinking that maybe—"

“Matthew,” he interrupted. “You will refrain from speaking of her.”

Matthew flinched but held firm, maintaining his position beside the Dream Lord's arm. “Boss, I’m just trying to help here. I mean, this isn’t like you. Even for you. If nothing's wrong between you two, then what is happening here?"

Morpheus rose from his throne with fluid grace, his towering form casting a shadow over the raven. His movements were deliberate and restrained, as if containing a tempest within.

“You presume much,” he said, his deep voice edged with frost. “The matters of my heart are mine alone to bear. And the Dreaming is my responsibility, not yours.” He exhaled a slow, deep breath that resonated with his inner torment. “There are matters that cannot be ignored.”

Matthew cocked his head, his curiosity piqued. “Matters, huh? Are you talking about that book you were reading just now?”

Morpheus' jaw tightened at the question, but he didn’t answer.

“Look, I’m not trying to stick my beak where it doesn’t belong. But whatever’s going on, you’re not exactly handling it great. The Dreaming’s feeling it, and so are the ones who care about you.”

Morpheus's expression flickered, a glimpse of guilt crossing his features momentarily. "That is not your concern," he stated sternly.

“Not my concern?” Matthew repeated, flapping his wings in agitation. “Boss, come on! You think she’s not gonna notice something’s wrong? You think Lucienne and I aren’t gonna notice? You’re shutting everyone out, and it’s not working.”

The Endless’ eyes closed briefly, as if shielding himself from the raven's words. Once more, his tone sliced through the mounting disquiet like a blade of ice. “Leave it, Matthew.”

Torn between pressing further and respecting the Dream Lord's boundaries, the raven huffed, lowering his head with a defeated slump of his shoulders. “Alright, fine,” he muttered. “But for what it’s worth, boss, you’re not doing her—or yourself—any favors by staying in here and brooding. Just think about that, okay?”

Morpheus's gaze drifted into the distance as Matthew departed, the fluttering of his wings echoing softly through the vast emptiness of the throne room, leaving behind a weight of unspoken truths and unresolved pain.

Your throat burned as you hunched over the toilet, retching up what little dinner you'd managed to eat again. The nausea had grown more persistent, becoming so severe that you struggled to hide your condition even at work. With your shortened shifts and frequent naps during quiet moments at the studio, Ella assumed your body was breaking down from physical and mental exhaustion—a result of your Florida trip and the heavy workload you'd taken on without pause.

Out of guilt, she suggested taking a few days off to recover, but you promptly refused. Having too much downtime would only let your mind wander to uncomfortable thoughts, exacerbating symptoms and impeding your ability to cope effectively.

Multiple times you'd started to reach out to Doctor Mills, drafting emails you never sent and almost calling but finding yourself unable to follow through. Keeping busy with your demanding work schedule meant you could focus on surviving each day without falling into the cycle of anxiety and overthinking.

Making matters more difficult, Morpheus had vanished entirely from both your dreams and waking life. The abandonment stung as deeply as any mortal lover's silent withdrawal, and the Dreaming's deteriorating state only amplified your growing distress.

After the bout of vomiting subsided, you splashed cold water on your face and trudged back to bed. The nausea had barely let up, and an odd pressure weighed heavily in your stomach. Your abdomen had become noticeably distended recently, and it was clear that prolonging this for another week would be inadvisable. The situation warranted a proper medical evaluation, and you resolved to schedule an appointment with your healthcare provider sooner rather than later.

Perhaps it was nothing, just a food intolerance acting up, or a particularly nasty virus that had weakened your immune system. Or more likely it was simply your body's response to mounting stress, a combination of your grueling workdays and Morpheus' unexplained silence.

The symptoms fluctuated in intensity, ranging from mild discomfort to severe episodes that necessitated immediate trips to the bathroom. In those brief intervals of physical relief when eating and resting became manageable, your mind would invariably wander to other pressing concerns.

Morpheus had consistently demonstrated the depth and sincerity of his affection. His declarations of love were always accompanied by meaningful actions, from welcoming you into his realm to crafting extraordinary gifts that showcased his devotion. His sudden withdrawal seemed entirely incongruous with his character, and considering the negative conditions within the Dreaming, it wasn’t difficult to understand that a matter of significant importance demanded his attention.

Still, you wished he would communicate openly about his troubles, even if you couldn't directly assist with the situation. At minimum, you wanted to offer emotional support and help lighten his burden as you had during the Vortex crisis.

Perhaps this time, Morpheus was deliberately keeping you at a distance, all for your own protection. At the very least, even a short word would have been welcome.

"So," Matthew said, clicking his beak. "What's the plan?"

"I don't know," Lucienne said. "Whatever is troubling Lord Morpheus, it must be something deeply personal for him to maintain such silence."

"Yes, but how much longer will he shut himself away?"

"I cannot say. After all, this is Lord Morpheus we speak of."

The Dreaming's sky had taken on an unsettling shade of gray, neither the soft twilight of contentment nor the ominous darkness of unrest. The realm's usual rhythm was disrupted, driving even Mervyn the Pumpkinhead up the metaphorical wall.

With a huff, he stomped his way to the library, his boots thundering against the marble floor while his carved pumpkin face twisted into a permanent scowl. He shoved the library doors open with excessive force, sending echoes through the vast expanse of shelves.

Lucienne looked up from her desk, maintaining her calm professionalism as her eyebrows arched slightly at Mervyn's dramatic entrance. “Ah, Mervyn. What brings you here?”

“What brings me here?” he repeated, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "Lemme tell ya what brings me here. The Dreaming's gone completely bonkers for days now. DAYS! The sky's throwin' a temper tantrum, can't make up its mind whether to drizzle, shine, or go full tornado on us. And the ground? It's wobblier than a drunk gargoyle on rollerskates! But here's the real kicker; them trees have lost their marbles completely. One of the wise guys actually tried to snatch my rake this mornin'! Can you believe the nerve?"

Lucienne’s lips twitched in amusement. “The realm is reflective of the Dream Lord’s current emotional state.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Mervyn grumbled, crossing his arms. "Now we're all stuck in this screwy limbo situation here. Look, I ain't dense - he got troubles up to his eyeballs. But for cryin' out loud, the rest of us are tryin' to do our jobs in this mess! Can you go knock some sense into him or somethin'?"

Lucienne straightened in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “The Dream Lord has much to contemplate, Mervyn. Matters of great importance weigh heavily on his mind.”

"Heh, not that I haven't tried already," Matthew interjected.

Mervyn rolled his empty eyes. "Can't his lordship deal with it without makin' the whole joint go haywire? I swear, I'm this close to hangin' up my rake and startin' a nice, normal garden topside. Least there I won't have to deal with plants that think they're critics!"

Lucienne stifled a chuckle. “You must remember that the Dreaming and its ruler are intrinsically linked. His moods influence the realm just as the realm influences him.”

"Sheesh, ain't it obvious? What's got his royal nibs all twisted up like a pretzel, anyway? Another one of them Endless family squabbles? Or maybe some mortal mess he's got himself tangled in?"

"I am not certain," she replied.

"Whatever. This whole mess needs fixin', and pronto."

While reviewing the Dreaming record, Lucienne paused mid-nod as something significant caught her attention. Her eyes widened as she studied the page intently, adjusting her spectacles as she stood to examine the text more closely.

"Uh, Lucienne? Everything okay over there?"

Lucienne glanced between Matthew and Mervyn with a grave expression before returning her attention to the volume. “Oh dear.”

"Aw geez, what's got ya spooked now, Luce?"

“I wonder if this is part of the reason,” she murmured.

Matthew hopped closer. "Mind filling us in?"

"A new heartbeat has appeared in the Dreaming," she explained. "It has just been added to the records."

"A new what?"

"Eh? Some kinda fresh face round these parts?"

Lucienne's expression grew solemn as she carefully considered her response. "Not exactly."

"Now you really got me on the edge of my perch here," Matthew quipped.

Lucienne folded her hands on the desk as she sat again. "A new heartbeat signifies the creation of life, fresh energy stirring within the Dreaming."

"Okay. So who's the mystery guest showing up?"

"Not a guest," she clarified. "A newly formed being. One that, as it happens, is directly connected to Y/N."

Mervyn's eye sockets expanded dramatically, his carved expression showing comical astonishment.

Matthew, for his part, stared blankly, still oblivious to the revelation's significance. "You lost me here. What's this gotta do with Y/N?"

Lucienne exchanged a knowing glance with Mervyn before addressing Matthew's query with a soft smile.

The janitor shifted his weight, placing his gloved hands on his bony hips and turning his pumpkin head toward the raven with mild exasperation. "Hey, Luce. Do you want me to spell it out for birdie over here, or should you do the honors?"

The environment around you was bathed in varying shades of purple, from soft lilac to deep violet, creating an ethereal cosmic display. Countless stars and miniature galaxies performed an elegant celestial dance, while a gentle breeze caressed your hair as you ventured forward.

This sanctuary provided a stark contrast to the declining condition of the Dreaming you had grown accustomed to witnessing these recent nights. Though your perception remained slightly hazy, your consciousness sharpened upon detecting a recognizable silhouette in the distance.

Morpheus stood motionless in the purple mist, his commanding presence unmistakable as his dark hair swayed gently in the wind. A wave of relief flooded through you at the sight of him, and you quickened your pace, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your features.

"I've been so worried about you," you breathed, halting in front of him.

As you embraced him, gently kissing his cheek, you noticed an immediate change in his mannerisms. Morpheus remained unresponsive, his arms still at his sides, his entire form becoming rigid and distant.

Stepping back to examine his countenance, you observed the evident tension in his epression as your hands moved from his shoulders to rest against his chest. "Morpheus? What's wrong?"

His eyes flicked down to the starlit ground, shimmering faintly, before meeting yours again with unsettling gravitas.

“We must end this.”

His words seemed to fade into the horizon, becoming nearly imperceptible. Time appeared to pause as your mind struggled to process the weight of his statement.

"End what?" you whispered, your smile fading.

Morpheus swallowed heavily, his lips twitching. "Our... entanglement. It must cease."

You regarded the Lord of Dreams with an unwavering gaze, your expression becoming neutral. His words seemed to shatter the very foundations of your world, the impact reverberating through your being like breaking glass.

"What…?"

“Y/N… I am sorry.”

"I don't understand," you said, your voice turning to ice. "Are you actually ending our relationship?"

Your fingers slipped from his coat, falling limply like dead weight.

"You cannot be with me," he continued. "I will not make the same mistake again."

An incredulous chuckle escaped you, your head shaking as if to erase his declaration. "Wait, this makes no sense to me. We've been through this conversation before."

"It is not merely about fear. What I have discovered, what I now know... it is something I simply cannot allow to happen."

"And what is supposed to happen?" Your voice cut like a knife, yet beneath its sharpness trembled unmistakable pain.

"Y/N, if I remain by your side, your future will be destroyed."

"Says who?" you demanded.

“No matter.”

"Yes, Morpheus, it absolutely matters. I deserve an explanation."

He faltered, his eyes reddening as he blinked rapidly. "Such a fate has been foretold in the Book of Paradoxes, a tome as old as existence itself."

“Hold on, a book?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself protectively, shrinking inward. "So you're breaking up with me because of a book?"

"This is far more than mere words on paper. It is an ancient prophecy, a mystical artifact whose power and purpose transcends even my understanding."

You gave a sardonic nod, pressing your lips together in a bitter smile. "Ah, I see. So you're simply accepting this fate? You won't even let me make my own choice?"

"Not if it means every moment you spend in my presence brings you one step closer to your own destruction."

"Destruction? Morpheus, this is absurd. We've been together for months now, and all I've seen in my life is growth."

"I will not allow another tragedy like Nada to unfold. The burden of what I’ve done... it weighs heavily upon me still."

Your lower lip trembled, but you stood firm. "I am not Nada."

"No, but my duties as Dream of the Endless must come first. The price we would both pay is far too steep."

"In other words, I am a distraction you can't permit yourself to have."

"That is not what I mean. You must understand."

“Well, I don’t.”

Your respiration quickened as an acute sensation of emotional distress surfaced, perceptible even within the confines of the dreamscape.

"There must be something we can do. Instead of pushing me away, let me help you find a solution."

"This is not something within your power to alter. Despite your remarkable strength, your mortal nature remains an inescapable truth."

"Ah, of course. Let's resort to the 'you're just a mortal' excuse."

Morpheus bowed his head, his face pained, yet stood firm despite your earnest protestations.

"I am doing this to keep you safe, to give you a chance at the life you deserve. Even if you cannot accept it now."

"Oh, that's bullshit, Morpheus!"

Your voice reverberated through the space, bouncing off the floating cosmos.

"Why won't you give me any credit? Instead of acting rashly over something you admit you don't fully understand, you could trust in me—in us. We could do this together as partners, seek help. Stop shouldering everything alone."

"It is precisely because we do not understand its nature that I cannot risk having you near it."

You scoffed. "Oh, because that wretched book is going to devour me whole the moment I touch it, right?"

"This is not a matter of levity," he stated, his gravelly voice carrying unmistakable sternness.

"What am I supposed to say? That I should just quietly accept this without question? Being like 'Oh sure, I love you, but it's perfectly fine to pretend you never existed and go back to my normal life in the Waking World. See you never'?"

A solitary tear escaped, tracing a path down your cheek.

"Tell me, was it all a lie? Everything you did for me, everything you told me, your feelings for me... was any of it real?"

Morpheus stepped forward. "All of it was real. It remains so."

"Then reconsider," you pleaded. "Don't do this to us. Don't throw everything away over a prophecy."

"My love... know that I shall not stop my search for answers. But what lies ahead may prove far more dire than what we face now. This quest may take an indefinite amount of time. And that is not something I can ask you to sacrifice whilst you await my return."

More tears now flowed freely down your face as your composure crumbled, your breathing becoming increasingly ragged. "But this is my decision to make, Morpheus, not yours."

"I must forbid it. It is for your salvation. This is absolute."

You pressed your fingers to your temples, scanning the surroundings with increasing agitation as you ran your hand through your hair.

"This has to be a nightmare. It must be."

“Y/N—”

"No. None of this is happening, and you're not truly here."

“Y/N, listen to me.”

You shook your head vigorously, retreating as tremors wracked your frame. "I refuse. I need this to end."

With slow, measured motion, Morpheus extended his right hand, dissipating the cosmic panorama before you. The illusory galaxy dissolved to reveal the true scene beneath; a bleak forest stretching into the distance, its withered trees and parched grass crowned by an ominous, thunder-laden sky.

"Do you understand why the Dreaming appears this way?" He asked. "As it is an extension of my very being, every withered leaf, every raging tempest... it reflects the essence of what I am. What you see is but a reflection of the chaos that dwells within."

A shiver ran through you as lightning crashed overhead.

"I take no pleasure in this. But it must be done, nonetheless."

"That's according to you," you corrected bitterly. "It doesn't need to be this way."

"It goes beyond the boundaries of you and me. It surpasses my very identity," he declared with resonating finality. "If I must choose between our individual happiness, if sacrificing my love for you ensures your future remains intact, then I shall bear this burden."

A strangled cry escaped your lips. "How could you possibly think I would accept a future without you in it?!"

"I cannot ask you to keep your waking life on hold for my sake, Y/N. Not when I am uncertain if my return shall ever come to pass."

"So that's it? You're simply abandoning me?"

"I am protecting you," he asserted, his deep, resonant voice carrying both authority and melancholy.

Your exasperation mounted. “Protecting me from what??!?!”

"From any darkness my role as Dream King would inevitably cast upon your existence."

You released a choked, desperate laugh. "How could something as beautiful as you, as your realm, and as what you represent, possibly be destructive to my life??"

"That is something I do not wish to discover," he answered solemnly. "Y/N... you are truly extraordinary. Your radiant spirit illuminates the paths of those around you. Your creative mind shapes dreams with a brilliance that rivals my own. I cannot... I will not be the one to extinguish that flame."

You shook your head, again and again, in vehement denial. “Stop it.”

“Please—”

"No!" The words erupted from you in a piercing tone. "You made me a promise that you would never break my heart. You gave me your word."

Morpheus maintained an impassive expression, though beneath his carefully constructed facade, you sensed the anguish he sought to conceal.

"Yes, I did," he acknowledged with resignation. "I am truly sorry, Y/N,"

Raw emotions overwhelmed you—anger, disappointment, and a blinding sense of betrayal. Unable to contain your fury, you lurched forward and struck his chest repeatedly. Your fists pounded against him, yet he remained unmoved. He grasped your elbows with gentle restraint, softly speaking your name in an attempt to calm you.

“You promised!” You cried out. “You lied to me!”

Your strength gradually ebbed away, leaving you collapsed against him in uncontrollable sobs, your forehead resting against his collarbones. Your trembling fingers clutched the fabric of his coat as tears dampened his shirt.

“Please… don’t do this…” You sank to your knees before him, your hands still grasping desperately at his robes. “Don’t le…ave… m..e…”

"I cannot choose otherwise."

“Morpheus, pl..e..ase. Stay… with me….”

"The Dreaming will always be accessible to you. My castle doors shall remain open, that you may seek guidance with Lucienne among her tomes. Your journey of exploration, of learning, of dreaming... can continue unabated."

The material of his garment slipped from between your fingers as he withdrew, his black silhouette receding with each step.

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

A sharp inhalation escaped you as your head snapped upward, your eyes widening with despair. “Morpheus, wai—”

“This dream is over.”

You jolted awake, your breath lodged in your throat as your chest tightened agonizingly. Drenched in cold sweat, with your hair clinging to your skin and your stomach roiling violently, you stumbled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom.

The emotional toll of Morpheus's devastating abandonment had your body purging both the physical and psychological torment that ravaged you, retching and wailing as grief consumed every fiber of your being, mixing with your bile.

You hoped that he would appear to assure you it was nothing more than a cruel nightmare conjured by your subconscious mind. But all you could see was the toilet bowl as you clung to it helplessly, collapsing onto the floor while tears streamed down your face until the break of dawn.

Morpheus stared at the vacant space where your presence had been moments before. As your form dissipated into particles of light, his carefully maintained stoic mask finally shattered. Slowly, he descended to one knee, his hand instinctively clutching the fabric above his chest where an immortal heart bore mortal suffering. His tears fell hot and searing, corroding the soil around him like molten iron.

He was overcome by an unprecedented pain unlike anything he had ever known. Though his long existence had been marked by numerous losses that had rendered him reserved and guarded, your presence had transformed him, awakening emotions he thought forever dormant.

Never before had someone so earnestly beseeched him to stay and to love. Though he ached to hold you as you wept in front of him, Morpheus knew that even the slightest gesture toward you would have melted his resolve entirely.

Nevertheless, the heartbreak caused by his decision left an irreparable void within his eternal essence. And perhaps, the Dreaming itself would never be the same.

Daylight streamed through the window, illuminating your disheveled form on the bed, surrounded by disarrayed sheets. The dampness of your tear-soaked pillow pressed against your cheek as you lay paralyzed, eyes fixed vacantly on the curtains. In a state of dissociation, you found yourself incapable of stirring. The extended hours spent on the bathroom floor had left your body throbbing, while your eyes remained swollen and tearful.

Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, but you couldn’t summon the energy to check it. Time stretched endlessly as you lay there, until catching sight of the shell from your dreams triggered an uncontrollable urge to scream.

With a rapid spurt, you finally pushed yourself in a sitting position to retrieve it, its color and vividness turning bland. You shoved it into the drawer without thinking, slamming it shut to hide it from view.

Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks as you picked up your phone, unlocking the screen between shaky breaths. The display showed three missed calls and an unread text message, all from an anxious Ella. The clock indicated it was well past the start of the business day, meaning you were significantly late for work.

With a heavy exhale, you composed a brief response, informing her that your current state would prevent you from performing your professional duties for the foreseeable future. Since joining the Corbyn&Jones team, you had never taken a sick day unless absolutely necessary. You prided yourself on working diligently even when feeling unwell, always delivering exceptional results.

Now you were reduced to a complete wreck, barely able to stand long enough for unwanted trips to the bathroom. Perhaps some rest would help your body recover, but you doubted time could ever fully mend your emotional cracks.

Expressing relief, Ella responded with understanding. She granted you the necessary break to recuperate from your illness and exhaustion, apologizing profusely for the heavy workload. You committed to maintaining your responsibilities remotely when your condition permitted, though it made even basic mobility an impossible task to accomplish at the moment.

Despite believing you had no more tears to spill, new drops sprang to your eyes at the thought of Morpheus throughout the day. Although you understood his reasoning and concerns, you couldn't bring yourself to accept or forgive the choice he made. He had professed his devotion in countless ways, filling your dreams and waking days with magic. Could your relationship truly be as doomed as his with Nada? Were you fated to endure suffering and ruin, condemned to face divine retribution if your love had persisted?

The more you dwelt on the breakup, the more you wished to sink into an endless sleep, never to wake. From your current position, you began to resonate with Lyta's motives more than ever before, as if a part of your soul had been completely torn away.

The prospect of moving forward seemed insurmountable, given how deeply intertwined your life had become with his presence.

Later that evening, another incoming call notification displayed Hob's contact information. Your finger lingered over it to respond, but as a sudden burst of tears brought on uncontrollable hiccups, you let the call go unanswered.

He had already offered extensive assistance over the past couple of years. You felt reluctant to weigh him down with additional concerns or seek further help, as his long-standing friendship with Morpheus spanning several centuries could complicate matters even more.

And so, you resorted to ignoring his subsequent texts, compelling yourself to eat and shower until another night approached. The prospect of visiting the Dreaming filled you with dread, yet you couldn't completely abandon the possibility that Morpheus would reconsider his decision and propose a more viable resolution.

After all, hope dies last.

You traversed a solitary path through the darkness, each footstep emanating a soft luminescence that traced your journey across the desolate expanse. Barefoot, you moved silently through the gloom, the flowing white gown trailing gracefully across scattered leaves. You proceeded with purposeful steps through the unknown, drawn forward by an inexplicable force that beckoned your assistance.

Though conflicting emotions of confusion and despair bore upon your soul, each radiant step dispersed the encroaching shadows, suggesting an innate resilience to mend what had been fractured.

“ʸ/ₙ…”

A distorted yet familiar voice called out your name, though its origin was indistinct and elusive. You waited attentively, yet only silence permeated the air.

Then, once again, the voice returned, its presence growing clearer and more proximate.

"Y/N..."

"Who's there?" you called out, walking without pause, quickening your pace.

“Y/N!!”

Astra suddenly appeared from the blackness ahead, his posture unsteady and frail. His once shining fur was now dull and matted, his antlers brittle, his elegant frame emaciated as it revealed prominent bones beneath his skin. His eyes, once filled with starlight, had taken on an unsettling glassy, grey pallor that suggested possible blindness.

“What… Astra…?”

“Y/N… you’re here…”

His legs gave way, causing him to crumpled onto the ground."At last... I found you."

“Astra!”

Kneeling down, you cradled his face in your hands and gently lifted his heavy muzzle, resting his head in your lap. "What happened?!"

"It's Lord Morpheus," he whispered weakly. "The Dreaming is responding to what lies within him."

"How is this possible? Can't he simply stop it?"

"Ah, my dear... it is far more complicated than that."

Gently, your fingers traced along his cheek, beneath his eyes, and down the elegant line of his neck.

"His choice to leave you has left him wounded. The pain reverberates through the endless halls of dreams. Even through my essence."

"But why, Astra? I told him not to do this. I begged him."

"He wants your happiness and safety above all else. More than anything he has ever crafted, Perhaps even more than the realm itself."

You lifted him to your chest, cradling his upper body in your arms.

"In the end, you were the loveliest dream of all. To him, and to all who exist in the Dreaming."

You released a choked sob, swaying gently back and forth. "Why must he be so stubborn? My poor Astra... I'm so sorry."

A comforting warmth spread through your chest as you embraced your familiar, holding him protectively against you with unwavering care. "What will become of you…?"

"If this continues... everything I am, everything I ever was... could vanish forever."

"No!" you exclaimed in sheer terror. "Astra, please! You can’t leave me too!"

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/N. If anything, you're the one I wished would stay with me... just for a little while longer."

You instinctively held him more tightly, pressing your lips against the crown of his head in a protective gesture. Your warmth coursed through your limbs and down your spine, enveloping both of you in a bright sphere of golden light.

Unbeknownst to you, as your eyes remained closed, glowing threads flowed from your form, intricately weaving through the surrounding environment and seamlessly merging with Astra's being. The energy pulsated rhythmically, suffusing the familiar with restorative power that slowly reversed the deterioration. Astra's appearance transformed as vitality returned; his fur gaining an ethereal brilliance, his antlers casting majestic particles, and his eyes rekindling with crystalline stars.

The ambient light intensified in clarity, transmuting the surrounding darkness into an expansive, natural nocturnal splendor. Golden strands streamed outward from your body, interweaving with the fabric of the Dreaming itself, methodically restoring its deteriorated structure.

Astra gracefully rose from your embrace, regaining his posture before you. As you gazed upward, momentarily dazed by the spectacular display of light, you beheld his magnificent form fully rejuvenated, back to its former glory.

"Wait, what... I thought..."

"Y/N, I never knew you possessed such power. I am deeply grateful."

As he bowed, you blinked in dizziness. "Power? Astra, what do you mean?"

He tilted his head. "Wait, so you didn't do this intentionally?"

"No. I have no idea what just happened."

The familiar's muzzle curved into a gentle smile. "Take a look around."

Upon surveying the environment, you witnessed a remarkable mutation of the dreamscape. The once dreary path had evolved into an elegant thoroughfare, bordered by verdant grass and voluminous moonflowers. Delicate fireflies drifted gracefully near your face, their mystical whispers carrying on gentle currents of air, drawn to your presence like moths to a flame.

The celestial panorama above was breathtaking, an intricate tapestry of bright stars stretching across the infinite dark blue sky. Each constellation pulsed with lively vitality, their patterns seeming to dance and shift in the vast cosmic scenery.

Additionally, tendrils of luminous force circled your sitting form, reminiscent of shimmering ribbons. They coalesced into your hands, imbuing them with an intense glow.

Trembling, you turned your palms in front of you, examining them in incredulity. "Astra... what is happening to me...?"

"Do you truly not know?"

You frantically shook your hands as if trying to switch them off, but the light continued to pulse around them. "I bloody don’t! And frankly, I'm more than a little worried right now. How can I make this stop?"

"This is a dream, nothing is actually going to harm you."

"That still doesn't answer my question."

In time, the light generating from your skin diminished until it completely dissipated, leaving no visible trace of the phenomenon. Despite your racing thoughts and attempts to rationalize the experience, you were reminded that the nature of dreams often defies conventional explanation.

"Are you alright?" Astra asked softly, leaning forward to brush his nose against your chin.

"You're asking about me? Astra, you were practically dying in my arms moments ago."

"Well, technically I'm a dream, so I can't exactly die in the way mortals experience death."

"Still, you were just saying you would disappear."

Astra's head bobbed thoughtfully. "I wasn't expecting this either. But Y/N, whatever you did has restored both this part of the Dreaming and myself to our former state."

"I didn't do anything."

"Perhaps not consciously, but the power definitely came from you."

"Maybe it was the Dreamstone," you concluded. "After all, it contains Morpheus' energy."

"No, it wasn't the Dreamstone, I don’t think" he said resolutely. "It was coming from you—of that I am certain."

You rose to your feet and clasped your hands over your abdomen. "I'm truly relieved you're okay, but I have to admit... I've been feeling strange for a while now."

“Strange, you say?”

With calculated precision, Astra studied you intently, taking measured steps backward to analyze the atmosphere. His heightened senses became evident as his ears detected subtle changes, his penetrating gaze intensifying with each careful assessment. He proceeded to conduct a methodical examination, circling around you while his antlers created streams of light in his path.

Upon completing his examination, Astra halted in front of you, his dark, starry eyes fixating on your midsection. He emanated an aura of profound understanding, and when he spoke, his voice carried a distinct tone of reverence.

"Y/N, you... you are..."

"I am what...?"

"Oh... I see. He hasn't figured it out yet. And apparently, neither have you."

"Astra, what is this all about?" you inquired impatiently.

"You must leave now, to prevent any further... well, light shows. I will maintain vigilant oversight of his wellbeing in your absence."

"Astra, please! I don't understand any of this."

"You will, sooner than you think. Deep inside, I think you already know."

Before you could formulate a response, your voice dissipated into silence. The dream began to shift and distort, merging inexplicably with elements from your waking reality that seemed paradoxically out of place.

"Don't lose hope, Y/N. You are stronger than you realize. Through you, I am reborn."

“As——tra..”

He had already vanished into the distance, receding as he traversed the rolling hills and disappearing into the dense foliage. Your attempts to call after him resulted in nothing more than an inaudible faint breath, as your feet slowly sank into a sparkling pool of liquid gold.

In an instant, consciousness returned, and you found yourself in the familiar stillness of your bedroom.

As time wore on, your heartache deepened, and your physical condition oscillated between periods of relative wellness and severe misery.

Astra no longer visited your dreams, which had grown lifeless and barren. His words had awakened something in the recesses of your mind that you couldn't comprehend, but all you could focus on was Morpheus and your deep struggle without him in your life.

For most of the day, you curled up in a ball on your couch, letting your tears flow freely as you listlessly surfed through TV channels without really wanting to watch anything. Your cognitive clarity was significantly impaired, making focused work on your laptop particularly arduous. You found yourself experiencing frequent periods of mental fog, moving through the house in a daze, almost on autopilot.

You were barely holding on, eating and sleeping only the minimum necessary, finding even simple tasks like grocery shopping insurmountable without breaking down. The sight of happy couples on the street would leave you weeping unrestrained, with everything reminding you of Morpheus—the paths you'd walked together, the park where he'd shown you your mother's memory through your father's dream, and even your apartment, that still held his scent in every corner.

You strove to maintain regular communication with Ella and your father, but your interactions remained quite superficial as you carefully avoided discussing Morpheus. The prospect of verbalizing the separation seemed too daunting to bear, as though doing so would solidify the reality of the situation.

Outwardly, you laughed, joked, and put on a brave face to fake normalcy. But internally, you were screaming, fighting against invisible barriers, clutching at your hair in raw agony.

Meanwhile, contact with Hob was entirely equal to zero. You distanced yourself from his messages and calls, recognizing that his connection to Morpheus would made your conversations particularly difficult at this time. You knew it was unkind to someone you considered a close confidant, yet you required solitude to process this transition and come to terms with Morpheus' departure.

He had become completely absent, staying unreachable despite your attempts to get in touch with him. Your appeals to reestablish dialogue for the mutual benefit of both parties and the realm's wellbeing had gone unheeded by the Endless, leaving you feeling like you were talking to a wall.

Though hope still lived in your heart, you felt it slowly slipping away.

Inevitably, demonstrating steadfast persistence and recognizing the ineffectiveness of digital correspondence, Hob resorted to making an in-person visit to your residence. When he arrived at your door, frantically ringing and knocking, you knew you could no longer avoid the inevitable explanation.

The last thing you desired was to cause undue concern that might prompt him to contact law enforcement for a welfare check. Reluctantly, you opened the door to find Hob in visible agitation, breathing heavily and looking notably disheveled.

"Shit, I've been going mad with worry!"

You managed a weak smile, silently apologizing.

"What's goin' on here? Been trying to reach you for bloody ages!"

"I'm sorry Hob, I've been sick to the bone,” you said softly, stepping aside to let him in.

"You're looking rather peaky, Shortcake. Still got stomach troubles then?"

“Sort of,” you replied. As you closed the door and wrapped your arms around your chest, you fought to hold back fresh tears that threatened to fall.

"This has been dragging on for quite a stretch now, innit?"

You responded with an affirmative hum, watching as he took off his coat and hung it on the back of a dining chair.

"I was half convinced I'd find you lying dead somewhere. You can't just disappear on me like that."

“Sorry.”

"Have you seen a proper doctor about this yet?”

“Not yet.”

“When's the last time you had a decent meal? You're looking white as a ghost."

"I had lunch today.”

He settled onto the couch with a weary exhale, running his fingers through his hair while you remained stationary.

"I swear. I was about to storm your workplace and demand answers. Would it have killed you to send a quick message? Just a 'piss off Hob, I need space' would've done it if you weren't up for tal—"

His speech halted upon observing your condition—tears cascaded silently down your face, your form quivering with barely contained emotion.

In an instant, he leapt to his feet and rushed to your side, grasping your upper arms and rubbing them soothingly. "Hey! You're not crying because of me, are you? Have I said something wrong?"

Turning your head from side to side, you burst into even harder weeping.

"Then what is it? Come on, this can't all be about some stomach trouble."

You couldn't formulate a coherent sentence, your knees growing wobbly.

"Listen love, if I came across a bit too strong there, I apologize."

“It’s n…ot t..ha…t.”

"Just breathe now. Take your time."

You gasped for air, feeling it being cut off from your lungs. His proximity had you breaking down, erasing what little resistance you had left.

"He’s gone, Hob," you choked out, fingers clutching his shirt. "It's over between us."

“What…?”

"He left me."

Hob's eyes opened impossibly wide, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “He did what?”

His tone became more intense as he held your shoulders, studying your face with incredulity.

"What do you mean?! You two were mad for each other!"

"It wasn't enough. Not for him."

"What's gotten into that idiot?!"

Finally, your resolve evaporated like dust in the wind. You sank to the floor as every ounce of strength completely drained from your legs, with Hob kneeling beside you, holding you steady.

“Y/N!!”

You wept more intensely than ever before, venting out all your accumulated pain, anger, and utter devastation. Your heart was shrinking and decaying, as though there was a barbed wire built around it.

“I don’t know what to do,” you lamented through shuddering breaths. “I can’t live without him, Hob. I just can’t.”

Hob pulled you into a strong embrace, offering solace against his shoulder, and smoothing your hair with gentle strokes.

"I spend every moment crying. Everything I do reminds me of how much I miss him."

He acknowledged your pain, placing a reassuring kiss on your head.

"I feel like all my dreams have been destroyed. Everything has lost its meaning. I need him! I need him so much I can barely breathe!"

"Let it all out, Shortcake," he told you consolingly, "and when you're ready, tell me everything from the beginning."

You wailed, releasing the raw heartache you had inside, all that was left to give before becoming absolutely depleted.

"This is bullshit.”

"That's exactly what I told him," you commented, sipping the hot tea he had prepared in an attempt to settle your nerves.

"Listen, I've lived through the witch hunts and all that rubbish with prophecies and whatnot,” he stated. “And let me tell you, every single one of these so-called magic books turned out to be complete bollocks."

"I believe this one is different though."

"Different how?"

You gazed into your mug, your tired reflection rippling in the tea's surface. "You've known him for centuries. His powers are real, not fabricated by cultists."

"And how exactly does that prove this book is legit?"

"We both know he wouldn't mistake a fake object for a genuine dangerous artifact. He's not naïve."

Hob frowned pensively. "Right then, let's say this book is exactly what he claims, though you said yourself he doesn’t even know what it means."

“Yes.”

"Maybe we're not seeing the whole picture here. Could be he's got it all wrong, or hell, maybe there's a way to bypass this wretched prophecy."

With a bitter chuckle, you retorted, "It's not that simple, Hob. He said he needs time to understand it fully, and he wasn't willing to take the risk."

“You are worth every risk, Shortcake,” he clarified. "Look, I get it - we all want to protect the ones we love. But pushing you away like that? After I told him to look after you properly? That's really getting on my tits.”

“Wait, you did?”

"Back at the New Inn that day. And I'll tell you what, every time I tried to get a word in with him, his eyes were glued to you like a magnet."

The memory of that day was still vivid in your mind—how he joined you for a walk through Richmond Green before accompanying you home, where you shared an intimate afternoon together filled with tender kisses and ardent passion. You could still feel his touch, his lips on your skin, his playful teasing in your ear... his love.

Nothing more than bittersweet remnants that belonged to the past.

Your bottom lip quivered as grief welled up inside you. "I suppose none of that matters anymore."

"Don't you dare give up. Not yet."

You shrugged helplessly. "What can I do? He refuses to talk to me."

"If I get my hands on him, I swear to God—"

"Don't, please. It won't accomplish anything. And I don't want to be the reason your friendship falls apart."

Hob unleashed an angry growl. "Well, if he thinks I'm gonna sit down and have a drink with him in 100 years like nothing's happened, he can sod right off."

You gave him a faint smile, setting down your mug as another wave of nausea made the room spin through your blurred vision. "I don't have many options left. And I feel like I'm about to be sick."

"Shit, you've gone all pale again, love."

"I'm so sorry, Hob,” you said apologetically, gripping your stomach as you suppressed a surge of queasiness. “You should head home. I promise I'll respond to your texts and calls from now on."

With a determined look, he rose from the couch, strode over to his jacket, and quickly slipped it on. However, instead of saying goodbye and leaving, he dawdled there. With one hand on his hip and the other tapping his chin, he was seemingly formulating a plan of his own.

“Hob?”

"Right then, I'm going to get my things and bring 'em straight back here," he declared with conviction.

You stared blankly. "Eh?"

"I'm not about to bugger off and leave you on your own, not in this state. I'll stick around as long as you need, yeah? That's what friends are for."

"Hob, really, that's not nece—"

"Not budging on this one. End of discussion."

With a defeated sigh, you slumped back into the couch cushions. "What about your job? Your life? Are you seriously going to throw it all out for me?"

"Oh, come on! I'm not moving in permanently or anything. I've survived 700 years of work, think I can manage a short break."

"And your students? Didn't you mention having a new lesson ready for them? You spent so many sleepless nights preparing it. They need you, Hob."

"Right now you need me more than they do, and what I don't teach them tomorrow can wait for another day.”

“Hob, seriousl—”

“Just hang tight. I'll be back before you can say 'Wandering Jew’.”

With your protests dying on your lips, Hob dashed out the door with hurried footsteps, his sneakers echoing on the concrete outside, followed by the roar of his car engine springing to life.

Exhausted beyond measure, you sat motionless as the sound of his vehicle faded into the distance. His self-deprecating historical reference elicited an unexpected reaction, sparking a small grin that quickly erupted into surprising laughter. It was uncontrolled and erratic, exploding in loud, hysterical mirth.

Unfortunately, that fleeting enjoyment rapidly turned into another torrent of tears as your emotions swung wildly, forcing you to leap up and dash to the bathroom with your hand clasped against your mouth.

True to his word, Hob returned an hour later, carrying a backpack containing essential items including clothing and personal care products. Although having a houseguest was quite an adjustment, he assured you he would maintain appropriate boundaries and respect your need for personal and professional space.

During dinner, he provided welcome companionship and ensured proper nutrition by preparing a balanced, stomach-friendly meal for you. As your symptoms had temporarily abated, you were able to spend a peaceful evening watching classic films together, offering lighthearted commentary throughout the viewings. It proved therapeutic, helping you take your mind off things, at least temporarily.

For his overnight accommodation, Hob settled onto the living room couch, which was furnished with comfortable bedding including a plush pillow and warm blanket. The sofa's generous dimensions allowed him to rest comfortably, and as you passed by the living room on your way to bed, his peaceful slumber was evident from the gentle sound of his breathing.

Like a sudden tide, all your negative thoughts and feelings came rushing back in the stillness of the night, causing your heart to ache with a ravenous need for Morpheus's voice and the endless depths of his eyes. You turned to your side, holding back sobs once again as a bone-crushing burnout pulled your eyelids shut.

For a moment, you drifted into a void, your mind weaving together phantom voices and shapeless forms. You surrendered to the sensation, floating into an entirely different world as you crossed through a portal of light that solidified into physical form. You traversed a crystalline bridge, enveloped by clouds soft as cotton and stars that twinkled with life.

Thus commenced your descent into the realm of dreams, as tendrils of golden energy drew you into its embrace.

Towering rows of books and winding spiral staircases stretched before you, with precious artifacts meticulously displayed throughout the library's corners. You moved through the lengthy corridors with purpose, finding no volumes that captured your attention enough to warrant closer examination. You wandered without direction, guided only by the echoing sounds of turning pages and books being returned to their shelves.

Navigating through the passageways, you methodically traced your fingers across the book spines while proceeding deeper into the library. After what seemed an interminable journey, you detected a presence mere steps ahead.

Lucienne was organizing volumes in their designated locations with her characteristic precision and attention to detail, without her customary purple jacket, wearing only a long-sleeved white shirt and suspenders.

Upon seeing her, you were hit by that persistent sense of despondency you found impossible to overcome. Hastening your pace, you moved toward her with urgency, feeling the scent of old books in the air that stirred your tresses.

When she noticed your approach, her face brightened with a radiant smile. "Ah, I was wondering when you might visit. It's quite pleasant to see you here. May I be of any assistance—"

Without waiting for her to finish speaking, you rushed forward and wrapped your arms around her upper frame, causing the librarian to lose balance. The book she was holding fell from her grasp as she steadied herself, returning your gesture with measured restraint.

"My word" she remarked with surprise.

You swallowed, pressing your nose against her shoulder. "I missed you, Lucienne. I missed all of this."

Noting the tremor in your voice, she separated from you with concern. “Are you all right?”

"I wouldn't say that, no," you responded with a wan smile.

Lucienne regarded you with understanding, gently guiding you forward. "Come, let us have a seat."

Leading you with a soft touch on your back, she escorted you to her workspace, where numerous documents and open tomes were arranged across the desk. She gestured for you to take her armchair, its plush cushioning providing immediate alleviation, cradling you like silk.

"Shall I fetch you some tea?” She asked. “It would be my pleasure to serve you a cup."

"Thanks, Lucienne, but I don't feel like having anything right now. How are things holding up here?"

"I am managing to keep things orderly, though it has been rather demanding as of late."

"I expected as much," you said quietly, listening to the rain pattering against the library windows. "And... is there anything else?"

"I am uncertain what additional information you might be seeking. Perhaps you could elaborate?"

You moistened your lips, smoothing the fabric of your gown. "I mean... is he doing okay?"

"Oh... you are referring to Lord Morpheus, I presume?"

“Yes.”

"I am afraid His Lordship has been rather preoccupied these past few days," she replied with careful diplomacy. "Though I had rather hoped you might possess some insight that has eluded me?"

“Insight?”

"He appears to be in quite an... unusual mood, if I may be permitted to make such an observation."

Your gaze darted anxiously between her eyes. "Wait—you don't know?"

"Ah. I see there is something of significance that has not been brought to my attention."

You took a deep breath before speaking, as the words felt impossibly heavy to formulate. "Lucienne, we're not together anymore."

Even saying it aloud was despicable. The very thought was unfathomable, a reality your mind simply refused to accept as a solid fact.

Her composed, tight smile melted into an expression of disbelief. "I’m sorry, what?"

"We broke up last week. I thought you were informed."

"I’m rather confused," she expressed, carefully removing her spectacles. "Not to intrude upon personal matters, but… may I ask what circumstances brought about this decision?"

"If I'm being honest, I don't really know myself. He was the one who ended things.”

“Why would he do that?”

“All he mentioned was something called the 'Book of Paradoxes.'"

“The Book of Paradoxes…?”

You nodded. "Do you know anything about it?"

“I am quite familiar with the text in question, yes. I’ve never had the opportunity to examine it with my own eyes, but it is a most peculiar tome of considerable antiquity,” she began. “Its nature is unclear, perpetually changing its location throughout various planes of existence. The contents are said to reveal most unfortunate destinies to those who chance upon its pages, though its prophecies are invariably encoded in the most abstruse and enigmatic ways. They are written in riddles."

“I see.”

"So… has Lord Morpheus truly come to possess this particular volume?"

Your eyes moved to one of her documents, though you weren't truly reading it. "I suppose so. He said it revealed things about me... about the consequences that would unfold if our relationship continued. I thought he found it here, in the library."

"If such a book did manifest within these walls, I have no record nor recollection of its presence."

"And he never mentioned it to you?"

"Not at all. He has withdrawn entirely from his usual duties, and the Dreaming appears to be reflecting his troubled state. Your revelation does provide some clarity regarding these circumstances, at least."

Morpheus had become entirely reclusive, declining any form of interaction with those around him. The consequences of his sacrifice appeared increasingly severe, negatively impacting not only your wellbeing, but also his own stability and the integrity of the Dreaming itself.

"I had harbored suspicions regarding your involvement, but I was entirely unaware of these developments."

"Lucienne, I know you're busy, but... could you help me out with this?"

Her smile returned. "Rest assured, I shall investigate this matter thoroughly."

Her readiness to look into the book’s nature and prophetic warnings rekindled a glimmer of hope, offering potential understanding into its mysteries and the possibility of persuading Morpheus to reconsider his decision.

"Thank you, Lucienne. It means more than you know."

With a light fluttering of wings, Matthew landed on the table, oblivious to the preceding conversation. His legs nearly slipped on the pile of papers, but he regained his footing with casual grace. "Yo, Y/N! What's crackin'?"

"Matthew! I'm so happy to see you, buddy!"

He hopped closer, allowing you to gently stroke his feathered head with your fingernails. "Hey, looks like I gotta say congrats and all that jazz!"

You blinked in bewilderment. "Congratulations for what?"

Your unexpected query seemed to startle him, and his dark, glassy eyes widened as he quickly glanced at Lucienne. “"Uhhh... whoops?"

"Matthew," Lucienne's calm yet authoritative reproach cut through the air like the sharp edges of the papers on her desk.

"Look, I’m sorry. I thought she knew!"

“Knew what, exactly?”

"Oh, uh… nevermind! Forget I said anything. Just a bird bein' a birdbrain over here!"

When you turned to Lucienne, you took notice of her discomfort as she attempted—unsuccessfully—to redirect the conversation while avoiding eye contact. "Perhaps you would be interested in perusing some works of fantasy? We have recently acquired several rather intriguing tales."

"Lucienne?" you asked, arching an eyebrow. "What aren't you telling me?"

Exhaling in resignation and whispering "Thanks, Matthew" under her breath, she folded her hands together in front of her. "As you know, my duties include maintaining records concerning both the inhabitants of the Dreaming and any perceptible alterations within the realm."

"So?" you pressed, inching closer with anticipation.

She deliberated, selecting her response with care. "While you do not technically qualify as an inhabitant of the Dreaming in the traditional sense, your consistent presence here has resulted in a rather fascinating phenomenon; the gradual integration of your energetic signature into the fabric of the Dreaming itself."

Still not satisfied, you persisted, “Okay. And?”

"I… this is not the most appropriate way in which you should be discovering such delicate information."

"Please, Luce!" you cried out. "At this point, I could expect anything."

Positioning herself at the edge of the table adjacent to your seat, she gazed at you with uncertainty, weighing the gravity of what she was about to disclose. "Are you really sure you wish to receive this from me, rather than through more... appropriate channels?"

You gave a small laugh. "I have no idea what this is about, much less what these 'appropriate channels' might be."

"I mean, since we're spillin' the beans anyway, might as well tell her, right?"

Lucienne drew a deep breath, her expression contemplative. "I suppose there is little alternative." She faltered, composing herself with restraint before meeting your eyes. "The records have indicated the presence of a new heartbeat within the register. It appears there is... a new life, one that belongs to you."

The implications of her revelation eluded your comprehension as you processed her words, your dreaming haziness only serving to compound your mental fog. "A new heartbeat? A new life? What exactly does this have to do with… me…?"

Then, the realization hit you like a bolt of electricity, paralyzing your thoughts and stealing your voice away.

"Y/N, you... you are..."

"I am what...?"

"Oh... I see. He hasn't figured it out yet. And apparently, neither have you."

"Have you perhaps noticed any peculiar changes or symptoms?" She asked.

"I... I did, actually," you murmured, your voice barely audible. "But, Lucienne, that's impossible. This must be some mistake."

"I can assure you that my records are quite reliable."

An incredulous chuckle escaped you. "Okay, but... that's absurd. There's no way I could be pregnant.”

"Are you totally sure about that?" Matthew tilted his head. "Like... you know... one hundred percent absolutely positively sure?"

"I'm always careful," you declared firmly. "I've been on protection for years. I've never..."

You had followed a consistent regimen of contraceptive medication without interruption. The routine had become second nature, with the added benefit of regulating hormonal balance and menstrual malaise. It had been absolutely essential, with one of the highest effectiveness rates among comparable products.

You had never missed a dose or taken a break from it, not even a single time as prescribed.

..Except…

After reflection, there had been a significant lapse.

"I… I wasn't asleep. When Morpheus invited me here, I was awake—physically present. And I didn't have my medication with me. I couldn't take it."

"Well, damn..." Matthew stammered. "So this whole thing was an accident, huh? Talk about a plot twist!"

How could you have been so careless, never questioning the consequences of your actions? The temporal displacement had completely disrupted your biological rhythms, and between the Vortex incidents, the events at Cape Kennedy, and your work responsibilities, the thought hadn't even crossed your mind.

Everything suddenly clicked into place: the recurring dreams of a newborn, the persistent physical symptoms plaguing you, and even Astra's mysterious words all pointed to one undeniable conclusion.

"Astra, please! I don't understand any of this."

"You will, sooner than you think. Deep inside, I think you already know."

"I haven’t informed him yet" Lucienne stated. "But I’m afraid I won’t be able to maintain discretion about this indefinitely. It is only a matter of time before Lord Morpheus discovers the truth on his own."

“I… I understand…”

Shock paralyzed you in the armchair as your breathing grew labored. The space around you began to blur and alter, becoming increasingly surreal and hazy.

"...Y/N..."

A faraway voice called your name from somewhere beyond.

"Y/N... Wa...ke.....u..p...!"

"Uhm… looks like she’s about to go."

"Yes, I can see that."

As you began to fade, suspended between the two dimensions, you addressed Lucienne with a final, desperate request before consciousness pulled you back to the realm of the waking. "Please, find that book, Luce!" you shouted. "Don't leave him alone!"

With a graceful inclination of her head and a reassuring smile that conveyed both understanding and commitment, Lucienne silently affirmed her intentions as you vanished in a brilliant flash of light, leaving behind a sparkling trail of stardust.

"Aaand she's outta here,” Matthew squawked.

"Shit, Y/N! wake up already!"

Awareness gradually returned, your eyes stinging as you awakened to find Hob's face hovering above you. His features were illuminated by the luminescence permeating the room, highlighted by a soft gilt contour.

Strange, you thought. You clearly remembered turning off the nightstand lamp.

“Hob…? What are you doing here?”

As you fully readjusted, darkness reclaimed the room, with only ambient light from the outside world filtering through the curtains.

"Fuck, sweetheart. What in God's name was that?! You frightened me to death! I thought you were about to burst into flames!"

Rubbing your eyes, you sat up through momentary grogginess. "What are you talking about? Did you have a nightmare?"

“Are you joking? You mean to tell me you haven’t noticed?”

Stifling a yawn, you looked at him through drowsy eyes. "Noticed what?"

His expression betrayed a deep apprehension, staring at you intently, his breathing noticeably rapid and uneven. "Y/N... you were lit up like a bloody Christmas tree!"

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 24 (coming soon) ->

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #sandman #sandman fanfic #sandman x reader

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ellieslaces · 10 months ago

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CAN’T CATCH ME NOW. two

presenting: umbrella’s hunger games

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis: after being Reaped and subjected to your worst possible nightmare — becoming a Tribute in Umbrella’s Hunger Games — a new horror awaits you in the Capitol where sparkling dresses, and lavish foods, and extravagant gifts cover up the gritty details of Capitol lifestyle. but your guard mustn’t be let down, there is only one enemy and it is not any of the 23 other Tributes who await to tear you limb from limb for a chance at fame and fortune, but Capitol itself that awaits to strip you down and sell your pain for there enjoyment.

content warnings: harsh language; violence; gore; class discrimination; usual hunger games/resident evil warnings; slight misogyny

notes: mentions of heavy violence in this one; class discrimination; slightly misogynistic themes; usual hunger games/resident evil warnings

chloe talks:

word count: 4.92k

now playing: buzzcut season ; lorde

can’t catch me now playlist

the districts ; prologue ; one ; next chapter

the outfits for the tribute parade are from this post!

There was something especially alluring about the Capitol and its way of life. Not really the sparkling atmosphere and the grandeur of the clothing, homes, and food. Not the money that was handed out to be spent as one pleased. No, what was the most alluring — to you anyway — was the false sense of security.

The fact that everyone in the Capitol seemed to have forgotten the so called ‘Dark Days’ where brother went for brother, and sister for sister. Where everyone starved and no one had any hope or reason to go on. This falsity of security was what — you believed — made the Capitol so strong. For who is to change something when ignorance is its strength?

No amount of protesting or uprising in the Districts could ever make the spoiled citizens of the Capitol realize just how fragile their entire system of living was. Simply, because they were not subjected to the brutality that was borne from these protests.

They would not lose their homes in mass fire brigade attacks. Or starve because they had no source of income to pay for food. Or be whipped at the post in the square as an example for what would be the consequence if anyone else dared to step so much as a toe out of line. No, the Districts were.

Which was possibly why you stood in the train car, eyes wide as you saw the crowd of Capitol citizens awaiting your arrival at the train station to the heart of the country. People in colorful wigs and outlandish costumes and caked makeup cheered and waved and hollered and laughed at your arrival. At the prospect of you or Piers being their newest Victor.

“They’re insane.” You muttered, earning a small, singular snicker from Piers who stood at your side watching the crowd as the train come to a slow stop.

“They’re ecstatic!” Allium — who’d you forgotten existed for the past half glorious hour — corrected with gentle yet cheerful words. He came up to you, patting your back with two quick pats. Pats, Allium Copperhead’s show of affection, you’d learned this in the seven hour ride to the Capitol.

“Oh God, look.” You grimaced, seeing a couple holding up signs that had yours and Piers names plastered on them with the words ‘our future Victor!’. Did these idiots not see how dark and contradictory that sign was? No, obviously not. Because death wasn’t the worse case for them if you lost, just bets.

Piers shook his head, Claire coming quickly to intervene and prepare you for what was about to happen. Again. She’d already sat you and Piers down before after your little post-Reaping confession of willingness to die to get the boy Tribute from Twelve out. To which she’d hushed you quickly and demanded you never speak of that to Chris. Though, you suspected maybe Chris would understand better than she would.

“Once you get off the train, some Peacekeepers are going to escort you to prepare you to meet with your stylists.” Claire explained, earning a small scoff from Piers.

“Right, ‘cause we need to be groomed before we’re killed on television.” Piers grunted, causing you to stifle a small laugh behind your hand. This caused him to earn a small tsk from Allium who stood beside you.

“Being at your best will get you sponsors!” Allium rebutted, his eyes stern but holding a certain type of affection that was really just blind pity as he shook his head.

“And we can’t get sponsors unless we’re pretty?” You challenged, arms crossed over your chest, brows raised as you turned toward your Capitol escort. Giving him your most intimidating look.

Claire shot you a warning glare — she’d previously informed you to stay on Allium’s good side because he could be the only thing between life and death in the arena for you with his influence. Second to Chris and Claire. But he had friends, and if you made him like you enough, he could convince those friends to become your sponsors and save your life.

“Well, it can’t hurt being at our best, my dear.” Allium shook his head, a slight sympathetic affection in his voice. Your face fell. How typical. So many female Tributes were overlooked and made up to be pretty instead of actually taken seriously. Which was why so many of the Victors were female — they’d taken advantage of the fact that why were overlooked. But, some part of you, despite knowing this was normal, was still angry to be brushed off as eye candy and not a real threat.

Begrudgingly, you let Allium win this round. As Claire said, there was plenty of time to prove him wrong in the arena. If you lasted that is. The pool of Tributes this year was especially viscous. As required, Umbrella had provided files on each Tribute to all the Mentors as to train their specific Tributes to defend themselves. After all, the enemy wasn’t any of the twenty three other children you were fighting, it was the Mutts Umbrella Corp. was so desperately proud of.

There were rumors upon rumors concerning the Mutts that Umbrella curated for each games. Some were completely fabricated and placed into the games at random. Some were made specifically for a certain Tribute at some point in the games to make it harder to win. That’s exactly what had happened to the District Twelve Victor, Krauser. Apparently, he’d never been the same.

With a quiet and menacing back and forth, Claire relinquished Leon Kennedy’s file to you. She’d managed to get an extra copy — something about asking one of the computer scientists in the train to make another — and let you have it. For the remaining five hours of the ride, you’d poured over the file. Reading every little detail of Leon Kennedy’s life in District Twelve.

It seemed, after all, you two weren’t so different. He was an orphan too, his entire family murdered by Peacekeepers for committing a petty crime. He was raised in the local Twelve orphanage, but unlike you, he wasn’t ever taken in by anyone. That was where you differed, and also where your similarities ended. You were raised with the luxury of not being required to work as family of Victors. But Leon did not have that opportunity. He was issued to work in the mines, like everyone else over the age of eighteen. You read through his startlingly short history, this boy being almost as much as a mystery as before.

Despite not containing much in regard to his past, you held onto the file. Maybe you could connect with him somehow. Or maybe you were just grasping for straws to find some last lingering bit of humanity in these games. As stupid and naive as it sounded, you wished that maybe Leon would be like you. That he wouldn’t want to kill, that he’d want to just die instead of becoming a killer.

But, you knew many people went into the games thinking they weren’t killers, but left to be crowned Victor of their District. A terrible irony — a wish to not become some pawn, but playing the game anyway. Because, what is the point in playing if not to win?

The train came to a lurching stop, snapping you from your thoughts of the file that Claire had taken back for the moment. The crowds outside were cheering and shockingly loud. Much too loud for you.

Piers glanced outside, a grimace gracing his features. “We might not even make it to the arena at this point.”

Claire cut off your scoff of laughter with a small sigh, one of encouragement. “The Peacekeepers won’t let anything happen to you.”

“‘Cause you’re precious cargo. Capitol goods now.” Chris nodded in agreement, thick arms crossed over his chest as he sauntered into the room, four Peacekeepers flanked at his side.

Before Claire could even try to reprimand her brother, Chris cut her off, holding up a hand. “I know, I know. But we gotta go.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

The Peacekeepers silently walked your way, two assigned to each you and Piers. One on each side of you, each holding an arm. You scoffed. “I can walk, you know.”

“Oh trust me, sunshine, they know.” Chris rolled his eyes, referring to how you’d pushed off the Peacekeepers after your Reaping. So these were the same soldiers then.

Your brows curved downwards, lips set in a frown as the soldiers guided you through the train car. A quick Look over your shoulder proved Chris, Claire, and Allium were following, close behind.

“Now, neither of you freak out, okay? It’ll be fine.” Chris said, Claire nudging his arm with a hiss. His words caused you to whip your head around.

“Why would we freak out?” You demanded, eyes wide, brows set in a glaring frown. Chris’s silence alarmed you. “Chris! What do you mean? Why would we freak out?”

The Redfield siblings came to a stop at the entrance of a tall, greyscale building, Chris’s hands in an encouraging thumbs up. But his face was a big-ass giveaway that it wasn’t going to be fine.

However, Allium followed, his steps jaunty and his smile encouraging — or supposed to be, but it really just unnerved you.

“Chris is right, you’ll be fine. Your stylist teams are the best of the best. Nothing but the best for my Tributes.” He nodded, shooing you along, despite being at the total mercy of the Peacekeepers at your sides.

You and Piers were led into a large room — somewhat like a doctor’s office where there were partitions. There were already a handful of Tributes there. Some stood by their assigned Peacekeepers, others sat in disposable gowns on beds.

Eyes followed you and Piers as you were led deeper into the room, ranging from menacing glares to looks of wonder. After all, you and Piers had already been declared as this year’s prodigies. People had already begun to make bets that either of you would be the Victor. And you suspected these Tributes hated you already. Because, it wasn’t fair, was it? Of course not, not all Tributes had the same chance you did.

Piers was directed off toward the left, but you hardly noticed as you were studying the room, searching and trying to memorize each face you saw. You were guided toward the back of the room, directed to sit on the cushioned table until your styling team arrived. A disposable cloth gown as shoved into your hands with gruff directions to change before one of the Peacekeepers drew the curtain closed. Sealing you off from every other Tribute who couldn’t wait to get their hands sticky with your blood.

It must have been hours upon hours of brutal torture — at least that’s what it felt like as the stylist team picked you apart like a pack of rabid vultures with an eye especially for body hair. At first, they started by crudely undressing you, pulling the gown you’d been instructed to don off your body then staring at every part of your exposed skin. They proceeded to lay you on the cot and scrub your body down with harsh yet pleasant smelling products.

Oil after oil, lotion after lotion were applied to your skin after the trio of stylists ripped your skin with wax strips, your teeth grinding down as they would tear off the paper without warning. Once your body was smooth and oiled, they circled you with tweezers, plucking away any stray hairs that their trained eyes somehow missed. From the neck down, you were virtually hairless.

By the end of your time with your team — a trio of eccentric, yet much more digestible individuals named Marko, Nelia, and Corall — you smelled like an overripe peach. They ushered you through a door in your makeshift cubicle, instructing you to lie on a cot as you waited for your personal stylist to arrive.

This wasn’t a feeling you much cared for, being slick and oily as you sat on the cot, feet swinging over the floor as your eyes never turned away from the metal door that was closed after your team left. Your stylist — what an inane notion. Who the hell needed a personal stylist? Not you, that’s for sure. But, to win the games, you needed to not only be pretty, but make an impression. Sponsors, those were what really could make or break your survival in that arena.

Time crawled by as you sat in that room. Bland and grey. There was no art, no color, no decoration, no personality to the room. It felt more like a holding cell than a meeting place. In this room, your thoughts ran rampant. You wondered what the arena would be this year. What horrors you’d be subjected to. What Umbrella would cook in there labs to send into the arena to hunt you. Mutts — they were worse than the twenty three other Tributes you had battle.

A swift knock sounded at the door to the room, the grey metal door swinging open to allow your stylist to walk in. Your eyes immediately tracked to the figure — and you were pleasantly surprised. A woman stood at the door, her grey eyes kind yet serious. Her dark curls were pulled back to a bun at the base of her neck, dark blue streaks scattered throughout the strands. She stood tall, a pantsuit that matched the shade of her dyed hair, and thin glasses in the same shade. She seemed to emit the color blue in all its comforting coolness. It reminded you of rainy days and a stormy sea.

She spoke your name as a question, almost as if she were making sure it was you and no one else. Except, she said it in such a confidence that even if she had mistaken you for someone else, you would have just nodded and taken the name as your own.

“I’m your stylist, Ingrid Hunnigan.” She hand out a hand — her nails the same shade of blue as the rest of her outfit and God did she look put together. “How are you?”

Ingrid was the first person in the Capitol to ask you that. And it seemed she truly meant it. You nodded, dropping her hand as you let your own fold in your lap. “I’m okay, I guess.”

“Fair answer,” Ingrid shrugged, pulling up a rolling stool to sit in front of you. She sighed heavily, pulling off her glasses, the action made her look younger and less put together. “I know this is a lot for you. And I won’t say it’s… as grand as everyone else claims it to be. But, I want to make this as simple and as easy for you as possible.”

Her words shocked you. A Capitol citizen who didn’t think the whole process and games themselves were grand? She must be wildly unpopular around here.

“I’m, I’m sorry?” You stammered out, hating how unsure and small you sounded. But, this woman had just been the first person here not to congratulate you with the exception of the Redfield’s. How the actual fuck had she landed this job?

As you stared at her in disbelief, you noticed there was also a swipe of dark blue eyeliner on the top of her eyes. Simple yet elegant. You knew you immediately liked her — she was down to earth, not as flighty and eccentric as the rest of the Capitol staff you’d come into contact with. She was calm and collected and likable. She seemed trustworthy.

“Not what you were expecting me to say, I know. But, I don’t see the point in congratulating you when you may die in that arena.” She shrugged, placing the glasses back on her face once she’d wiped them off with the edge of her suit jacket. “I’m here to make this easy, okay? To help you make an impression so you have a chance in that arena.”

There was a moment of confused silence on your end as you just stared at Ingrid, brows pulled together as you weighed whether or not she was being honest or simply trying to win you over. But she seemed genuine. “Thank you.”

Ingrid gave a small smile before she sighed, giving a solitary nod and pushing the rolling stool backward, pressing a button on the wall. “Are you hungry? We could talk about what to expect from the Tribute Parade tonight over some food.”

You responded with a quick nod — you were in fact, hungry. For some reason, being poked and prodded and scrubbed until you were raw did stir an appetite in you. “That would be nice.”

“Good.” Ingrid nodded, pulling a sketchbook from under her arm as she rolled the stool back in front of you. “We can discuss what I have planned for your outfit tonight.”

Oh boy, great. The outfits for the Tribute Parades were always nothing short of ridiculous. Overly exaggerated and obnoxiously ridiculous. Always a little too on the nose of what each District represented. Usually, District One’s weren’t so bad, unless the stylist had some grand, overused idea to dress them in all gold. Because apparently, gold was the standard of luxury. What an observation.

“I know you’re expecting some kind of overwhelming get up made of pure gold. But, I don’t want that. I don’t you uncomfortable, okay?” She spoke, flipping through the pages of her sketchbook. You craned your neck slightly to get a peek at what she’d come up with.

“What do we think about this?” You sat back as she lifted the sketchbook to display what she’d sketched up, the outfit you were going to be wearing.

Your brows shot up. It was shockingly… plain. Nothing too extravagant about it. Of course, there was a certain modem of extravagance to it, but it wasn’t as ostentatious as previous years. Rather than some excessive display of gold and other gems that were obvious of luxury, it was a simple gathering of peacock feathers. It looked more of a bouquet of feathers that would be tied at your waist than a dress. The shoes also radiated comfort. Simple slippers that would criscross laces up your ankles. The whole thing seemed so simple. It wasn’t overdone, and it even looked comfortable.

“It’s,” you were somewhat lost of what to say. It wasn’t as if you knew anything about fashion or style, so you weren’t the one to ask. Except you were, because you’d be wearing it. “I like it.”

This made Ingrid smile, she had a comforting smile. “Good, I was hoping you would. I didn’t want something uncomfortable, something that you’d hate. I think what people misunderstand about luxury is that it needs to be grand. Sometimes, luxury is simple.”

Oh how you liked her. She knew what it meant to be a person, that you weren’t some doll to dress up just because you were Capitol goods now. You were still human, and she acknowledged that.

“I agree,” you nodded, taking the sketchbook as she held it out to you. Your eyes studied the different sketches she’d come up with of the outfit. Different angles, the mixture of colors, the textures. She’d really thought this through.

“I’ll need to get your measurements, but we can do that after we eat, if that’s okay with you.” She said, gingerly taking back the sketchbook before she smiled at you again.

You nodded, finally feeling like something was your choice. “Yes, that would be fine.” You had a lingering feeling that you would get on quite well with Ingrid Hunnigan.

The Tribute Parade was nothing but a showcase of each Tribute for Capitol entertainment. Though, wasn’t that what the entirety of the games were? Yes, the chariot rides were meant to be an introduction to each of the twenty four of you. But, it was also a time for the Capitol citizens to gauge which Tribute they would dote upon. Who they would sponsor and who they would cheer for to win in the end.

This was another red herring of the entire spectacle of the games. These people would judge you based upon how you were dolled up, from which district you originated from, and possibly — if they cared to learn — your name and age. They knew nothing of who you really were. And they wouldn’t, not until the final interviews the night before the games began. Which was about two weeks away. Much too far away for you to even think about right now.

You’d spent the afternoon with Ingrid, talking over a late lunch about what to expect from the parade. The itch to ask what she knew of each Tribute — especially Leon Kennedy — almost drove you crazy. Until right before she’d walked out of the room and you’d blurted it out.

“Oh, no, I don’t know anything about any other Tributes besides you and Piers. I wish I did.” She explained apologetically, stating that each stylist only knew the details of their own assigned tribute.

When she saw the disappointed look in your eyes, she paused, brows pulled together. “I’ll see what I can do, though. Is there anyone in particular you want to know about?”

“Could you find out anything about the Tributes from Twelve?” You asked, unsure if Ingrid was honest about actually doing her best to finding out what she could, or if maybe she was just trying to butter you up.

Ingrid nodded, her face serious but there was a kindness in her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do. See you tonight.” You were surprised by her warmth and willingness as she walked out of the room.

And you were even more surprised when she’d kept her promise and brought you new information while prepping you for the parade.

“Wait, so, he wasn’t even originally from Twelve?” You questioned, arms splayed out to your sides as Ingrid did the final touches on your feather dress before you loaded onto the chariot.

“Apparently not. His parents were originally from Two, but somehow when they ended up in Twelve.” Ingrid nodded, adjusting a rather tall feather that framed your face. Her eyes were concentrated on her task.

You frowned. If his parents had stayed in Two, maybe he wouldn’t be here. Or, at least he’d have a better chance. This perplexed you — he was now a Tribute with such a small chance all because his parents decided to relocate to a lesser District. It hardly seemed fair.

“Well, you’re all done. And there’s Piers.” Ingrid stood tall with a pleased smile, her eyes flicking to where Piers and his stylist walked in your direction.

“Wow, feathers suit you.” You gave a half smile to your fellow Tribute, earning a scoff of a laugh from him.

“Likewise.” His eyes swiveled around the room, gauging each of the different Tributes’ outfits. “At least we aren’t half naked.” He motioned toward the District Four pair.

Ingrid gave a disapproving scoff. “Tactless. They’re kids.” Well, your stylist seemed opinionated about that subject. She shook her head, rolling her grey eyes before returning her attention back to you and Piers. “Did Chris and Claire prepare you for tonight?”

“Of course we did, we’d be bad mentors if we didn’t.” Chris’s voice cut through the air before you could even respond. It’d been hours since you saw him or Claire last. Before you met Ingrid.

“Good,” your stylist smiled, giving a solitary nod as she reached forward, swiping away a bit of blue eyeshadow from under your eye. “You’ll just get on the chariot. You don’t need to do anything, other than smile and wave if you feel like you’re up to it.”

“Sure, I’m up for smiling and waving at people betting on my life.” Piers shrugged, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

He was in a similar outfit as you — regal peacock feathers crafted into a suit that fit his frame perfectly. He looked luxurious, yet dangerous. A perfectly lethal combination not to be overlooked.

Ingrid let out a small laugh before a bell sounded, signaling it was time for the Tributes to load onto their respective chariots. As Piers stepped on, Claire’s hand gripped your bicep gently yet firmly.

“I need you to focus, okay? We’re in the Capitol, you can’t play around.” She murmured, her voice full of concerned sternness.

“I’ve never played around.” You answered, voice low yet warning. Your eyes met hers, silently telling her you knew what this was about.

And she knew. “I need you to drop this. You haven’t even spoken to him.”

“So? I don’t need to talk to him to know he deserves to win these games more than anyone else.” You shrugged.

Claire stared at you for a long moment, her eyes narrowed as she realized what you’d done. “What did you do?”

“I can’t learn about my opponent? How unfair.” You shook your head, gently yanking your arm from her grip and loading onto the chariot.

You knew you’d have a long and grueling discussion with her later. About how stupid and naive you were being. And she’d have a point — you didn’t know Leon Kennedy. You read his file, heard some Capitol gossip. You haven’t even met him yet, and you were willing to risk it all. But, when had your gut ever lead you astray?

“Claire, I really don’t want to talk about it.” You sighed, exasperated already as your mentor followed you through the apartment the Capitol provided for you and Piers.

“That too fucking bad.” Claire shrugged, hot on your heels as you walked into your room for the duration of your stay in the city, beginning to untie the ribbon at your waist holding your dress together. “We’re talking about it.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to shut the door on her, but her foot stopped the door from coming into contact with the frame. She stood in the doorway, her eyes icy on yours.

“What is the big deal?” You huffed, arms splayed at your sides.

Claire shook her head, eyes sad as if she thought you didn’t understand. “You don’t know him. You need to fight for you, no one else.”

“God, Claire! I’m not gonna become some killer to get out alive. If there’s someone who deserves it more than me, I want them to have it.” You rebutted, voice begging as you walked closer to her. “I need you to level with me. To try and understand.”

“I can’t, I can’t understand why you want to die in there.”

“I don’t want to die.” You shook your head, sighing as Claire immediately jumped to the dramatic conclusion.

“Sure seems like it.” She muttered.

“He is what I could have been!” You shouted at her, all these emotions you’d bottled up since your Reaping overflowing. “If you and Chris hadn’t found me and taken me in, I would be just like him. He, he didn’t deserve to watch his family die. He has no one. And to me, he doesn’t deserve to die either.”

This finally seemed to shut her up. Claire stood there for a few long moments, her brows creased and eyes set on you. A large part of you was nervous. Not for what she would say, but for what she didn’t say. It was too long before she let out a sigh.

“All right. This doesn’t mean you can’t try once you get in that arena. But, if you want to try to help him, I won’t argue, I won’t fight you on it. You just, you have to promise me you’ll give a good fight, okay?” Claire conceded, walking over to you, eyes set on you with a kind sternness you were so familiar with.

You nodded vehemently, your eyes wide. “I swear. I’ll try, but, I need to try to help him and the girl from his District too.”

Claire frowned, a sad somewhat guilty look in her eyes before she pulled you into a warm embrace. “You’re too much like me and Chris, y’know?”

“I know,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around her middle, letting your eyes fall closed with the comfort of her against you.

It was a while before she let go, stepping back and exhaling heavily. She held out her hand, a small metal chip resting in her palm.

“This is everything I could find on Leon Kennedy and Helena Harper. Just, insert it in the tv on the wall.” She motioned to the screen on the wall that was currently projecting the city streets of the Capitol. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, gingerly taking the chip and holding in your hands as if it were glass.

Claire nodded once, smiling a little before she turned around to walk out of your room. She paused at the doorway. “Don’t be late for breakfast. Your training starts in the morning.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You nodded, giving a sarcastic smile as she shook her head, walking out and closing the door behind her.

Fuck sleep, you thought. All that mattered right now was getting this outfit off, and reading on the District Twelve Tributes. You wanted to be prepared for when you’d meet Leon Kennedy at training tomorrow.

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