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bunni-v1 · 1 year ago

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OMGG you wrote the first years finding out reader was a girl so well! i love it :D could i maybe request the same thing but for thirds years? thank you so much and have a good day :)

Third Years Find out You’re a Girl?!?!? (NOT CLICKBAIT)

TW: Rook and Lilia are creepy

Info: Trey, Cater, Rook, Lilia x Reader (platonic)

Tags: @kierancaz @danchann33 @arashrita

🍓Ahh, the third years… How I do love them. Please ignore my blatant favoritism in Rook… I just… I really <3 him. Truly, the third years are my absolute weakest character, but I hope I did them well. Remember, dorm leaders are on a separate post. Love you all, and enjoy <3

First Years

Ortho & Sebek

Second Years

Dorm Leaders

-Okay so, I know we’re all wondering, how the hell do you get away with hiding your gender for so damn long?

-Firstly, those ceremonial robes do great at hiding the figure. The only tell would maybe be your hair, but feminine men aren’t unwelcome at Nightraven College, so you mostly get a few questioning stares and that’s it.

-Secondly, Crowley wants to save his own fucking ass. He already has to hide from the press that he has a MAGICLESS student from ANOTHER DIMENSION here, he doesn’t need the fact that you are a woman ALSO on his plate. So, obviously, he helps you hide your gender from others.

-Grim knows, of course, and he keeps his mouth shut for a few yummy cans of tuna (and threats of being expelled from Crowley <3)

-Even when you were just a janitor, he couldn’t have the rumor that he put a “helpless” young woman to work. (Like it wouldn’t be expected.)

-So how do you two do it?

-Baggy ass uniform. Crowley gave you at least three sizes too big.

-Your figure is completely hidden. Sure, you look completely homeless, but at least you’re hidden.

-For your voice, you simply deepen it. After some point, you blackmail Crowley into giving you a potion to help with it, since it's so taxing on your voice. (Or maybe your voice is naturally deep!)

-Sam provides you (for an unfairly pretty penny (not too different from your original world…)) any feminine hygiene products you might need.

-Honestly, you’re set for being cared for, but it’s the adjustment period that’s the hardest part.

-Truly, it’s very jarring to suddenly be thrown into both a magical world and be isolated in a man's world with nowhere to hide.

-At least in your world you had other women who could understand your struggles. Here though? You’re completely alone.

-You notice how… messy some of these guys could be. How some of them smell… really rancid. -How rough they were with you and each other.

-Honestly, it’s kinda eye-opening. The way men show affection to each other is oddly refreshing to watch and experience!

-Ace and Deuce specifically are a good… trial run.

-That’s not what we’re here to talk about though…

-For the most part, it's incredibly easy to hide yourself for the first while on campus. Everyone on campus is so self-absorbed that they don’t bother questioning you.

-Your only real risk factor is Savannaclaw, but it's easy to avoid those guys (minus Jack, of course).

-However, you can only hide your gender for so long… It’s mentally draining to keep up this facade all the time around people you care about.

-So… how do they find out?

Trey

-Trey is a very good middle ground compared to everyone else in NRC.

-He doesn’t find out immediately like some people, but he finds out pretty soon into knowing you.

-Trey has siblings. Specifically, he has younger sisters he helped raise alongside his mother and father.

-He’s good at reading women thanks to his sisters. He knows many tells of discomfort, displeasure, dislike, etc..

-It’s different from how his brothers would show it, how others at NRC show it.

-He can’t even explain it, he just knows the differences and it makes sense to him.

-With you, he notices the tells. Notices that you deepen your voice and you shy away from the more… intimidating and touchy guys on campus.

-He’s not one to assume, though!

-He’s attended three years at NRC in the same class as Vil.

-He understands that gender expression presents itself in tons of different ways.

-You clearly prefer using he/him pronouns, Ace and Deuce use strictly male pronouns, so it’s not his place to say anything.

-Still… the way your eyes glitter when he praises you for doing well on your tarts reminds him a whole lot of his little sisters.

-It’s not till a bit later, shortly before Riddle explodes when he asks Cater that his suspicions are concerned.

-“Cater, don’t you think the new guy in ramshackle is a little…”

“Girl? Yeah, it’s kinda obvs.”

“Is it now…?”

-Cater pretty much lays out everything he noticed about you, and it matches up pretty well with what Trey was thinking.

-Still! Trey doesn’t want to force the idea that you’re a woman on you!

-What if you are trans, non-binary, or anything else? To assume something like that is completely awful, and he’s better than that.

-He’s not a troublemaker after all.

-So, during one of Heartslabyul’s tea parties, (much like many others at NRC), he pulls you aside just to get confirmation.

-“So, this might seem a little rude, but I want to make sure I’m respecting you.”

“…kay…”

“Are you a woman?”

“Didn’t Cater tell you already?”

-Oh. Okay. Cater was right. He shouldn’t have doubted him. Noted.

-You make him swear up and down that he won’t tell Ace or Deuce, and you move on from it like it's nothing. (You’re not sure you can trust Ace and Deuce to keep their mouths shut at this point).

-And, really, it should be nothing. Trey should just be able to move on and relax… but his brotherly instincts sort of act up around you.

-He’s not overbearing in any way, it isn’t a creepy thing that suffocates you… it’s just a notable increase in intake of Trey in your life.

-He invites you over to “try this new recipe he made” (an excuse to ensure you’re eating, because he’s confident Crowley isn’t providing you nearly enough nourishment).

-Sometimes he shows up at Ramshackle to pick up Ace and Deuce and ends up staying and helping you clean up after the disaster freshmen.

-Most importantly, he checks in on you and your well-being considerably more than he does anyone else.

-He has, in fact, called you little sis before as well. He was incredibly embarrassed by it and refused to acknowledge it happened.

-Cater does not let him forget that it happens, calling you “Trey’s honorary sister” every chance he gets.

-It’s not so bad though. Especially at the start, you really needed someone reliable like Trey to lean on when you needed help since Crowley would only do the bare minimum.

Cater

-Cater finds out pretty damn quick after meeting you.

-It's not the exact second he sees you, but very shortly after your first interactions… he gets it.

-As we know, Cater was sort of forced into being feminine and girly by his sisters — something he was completely uncomfortable with, but later forced himself to embrace.

-When he looks at you… how big your clothes are, how you artificially deepen your voice, how you’re clearly uncomfortable with both of those things… he sees a younger version of himself.

-Still… it's super not his place to bother you about something like that.

-He hardly knows you, and as your upperclassman, he should be a role model and not worry about superficial stuff.

-M’kay! It is no big deal for Cay Cay, he can leave it all behind him with no issue! Totally doesn’t bother him at all!

-…He’s a big fat liar.

-It’s not his fault okay! He just… can’t get that look of discomfort out of his mind.

-You looked so miserable :( You looked like how he used to look :(

-So, Cater, far more impulsive and honest than good old Trey, straight up asks you. (Privately, of course, he’s not a monster.)

-“Heyyyy, so, weird question… are you a girl? It’s totally cool if you’re not, I’m just curious.”

“…How did you know…”

-It kinda freaks you out a lot. You thought you were hiding it so well.

-Cater, sweetie that he is, assures you that he’s different from others.

-He’s got special circumstances that allowed him to notice what was going on.

-Promises he won’t open his mouth…

-He tells Trey less than a week later.

-It’s not his fault! He was on your trail already, he was gonna figure out one way or another!

-Other than the Trey debacle, he’s really good at NOT gossiping about it, believe it or not.

-He’s your reliable senpai after all :D

-He is your first official ally!

-Completely supportive of what you’re trying to do here, and is more than willing to be a safe space when you just need to… be a woman sometimes.

-You spend a lot of time with him after he finds out.

-His dorm is always open for you, even if Riddle hates it, m’kay! You can always come to your old pal Cater for help.

-He really helps you on selling the whole “I’m a man” act.

-He shows you easier ways to hide your chest so you don’t always have to swim in your clothes and helps you keep your hair styled in a way that either hides it or makes you look more masculine.

-He’s like the best big brother figure to have, honestly, and he remains one of your dearest friends through your whole stay at NRC.

-He’s someone to vent to, someone who gets what you’re going through just a little, and someone who’s really there for you all the time.

-Also very protective of your secret.

-The only reason Ace and Deuce don’t know for so long is because Cater is working overtime to keep them off your trail.

-He tells you all about his escapades and keeping them in the dark too, he’s so proud of himself. (Please praise him, he needs it).

-Seriously though, he’s such a sweetheart and he’s always there for you if you need him.

Rook

-Ah beloved lover of beauty Rook!

-He is quite the oddball, isn’t he? Always off in his own world spewing flowery nonsense all in “the pursuit of beauty” as he calls it.

-Most people on campus just call him a freak and move on from it.

-You’ve heard about him, of course. The stalker-hunter from Pomefiore makes the beastmen on campus tremble in fear (or annoyance, in Leona's case).

-You knew he existed, but seeing him was never really common. In fact… seeing anyone from Pomefiore was rare.

-You guessed such an elitist dorm probably wouldn’t want to mingle with someone like you.

-In Rook’s case, however, you couldn’t be more wrong.

-He was quite interested in you from the very second you’d interrupted the whole opening ceremony.

-You were… striking in his eyes. Not quite as beautiful as Vil, of course, but very eye-catching.

-While Vil insists you are a pest not worth Rook’s attention, he disagrees.

-Truly, he’s fascinated by you and your story.

-You from another world, who goes out of his way to hide such natural beauty with baggy clothes and messy hair… Ah! How his heart pounds in excitement, he must know more!

-So he does the only thing he knows how to…

-He goes on the hunt. For what? He’s not sure yet, but his hunches are rarely wrong.

-He follows you to classes, watches you get yourself into trouble and out of it, stalks you through the windows of ramshackle, and laments about his findings to (a very unimpressed) Vil.

-You can feel his piercing gaze on your back, but you never see him. It’s chilling honestly.

-It’s not until he decides to follow you to Sam’s later at night that he figures it out.

-You had purchased a large box of feminine supplies…

-He had gotten you, little trickster :)

-Now, since he had gotten his solution, he laid back on the whole… creeping on you in your dorm thing.

-He is a hunter, not a pervert.

-Leading up to the VDC, when you’ve decided to try out officially, you suddenly see a lot more of this mysteriously creepy Rook character.

-And, honestly, he was really nice!

-Sure he said a lot of needlessly long and poetic sentences, but at the end of the day, he would always wave at you in the hallways or offer to help you learn the dance for auditions.

-This was all a ruse to be able to get closer to you and uncover your inner beauty.

-HE convinced Vil it was a good idea for you to be manager, and HE was the one who offered to ensure you “didn’t cause any trouble.”

-And Rook, good as he is at hiding secrets, pretty much lets you know that he knows. Constantly you find him… flirting? Complementing? You… saying how badly he would like to see you cleaned up and in more fitting clothes.

-Nothing he’s doing is romantic… you think… he’s just very clearly interested in you.

-So, of course, you have to ask him.

“Did you… figure out I’m a woman.”

“Perhaps…”

“You’re… not going to tell anyone, right?”

“Little trickster, I am the master of secrets.”

-Honestly? It’s not so bad having him and the others in Pomefiore know.

-You really get to be yourself with Vil and Rook, so it's nice! Besides, you haven’t been prettied up in a really long time. You kinda missed it.

Lilia

-Ah, Lilia… beloved elderly man.

-He won’t lie and say that he isn’t incredibly curious about you too. Who wouldn’t be?

-A human from another reality with no magic, no concept of where they are, and no idea how to get you back.

-Very curious indeed.

-However, he has no reason to get himself involved in your business.

-You are a confident young lad, and clearly strong and capable.

-In the few interactions he did have with you, you clearly had your head on your shoulders and well-founded confidence in your own abilities.

-The only thing truly odd about you was… your face.

-He isn’t one to talk, he’s thousands of years old and he’s got quite (unnaturally) large eyes and soft skin.

-You, however, aren’t fae. You aren’t anything more than a human.

-Excuse his close-mindedness for just a moment, but if he wasn’t mistaken you look quite… feminine.

-Small(er) stature, baggy clothes, clearly discomforted by “manly” activities that your friends drag you into.

-It wasn’t his place to question, of course. He understands that gender isn’t easy to define, and his thoughts are only ideas from his past creeping up on him.

-Still… it raises some questions in his mind.

-He knows where his responsibilities lay, so he brushes his thoughts under the rug and moves on from the thought.

-That is… until he notices Malleus’… interest in you.

-The prince’s visits to ramshackle only seemed to increase after you arrived.

-As Malleus’ caretaker (and out of morbid curiosity), he must investigate you further.

-That's how you start… seeing a lot of Lilia. Like, too much Lilia. How in the world is he always there, it’s creeping you out.

-He’ll talk to you, sometimes, but most of the time you can feel his beady little red eyes watching you.

-You don’t know what you did to him, but it’s really starting to freak you out.

-You’ve seen his fangs, does he want you for a blood bag or something.

-You, being strong as you are, decide to just confront him one day in the library.

-“Okay, what’s your problem. You went from acting like I don’t exist to constantly staring at me like I’m your next meal.”

“Please forgive me, that wasn’t my intention. I’m simply… curious about you, and I didn’t want to scare you off by approaching.”

“I don’t think your solution to that problem was any less scary.”

-You give him the benefit of the doubt, and you realize this guy talks like your grandpa or something. He’s so old, it’s almost funny.

-You decide to start spending some more time with him, and you realize he’s really fun to be around.

-Despite his seemingly old soul, he’s rebellious and feisty, and he has an endless treasure trove of stories to tell you.

-He becomes a comforting force in your life, so much so you begin to confide in him your stresses and worries.

-Inevitably, you end up telling him how hard it is to hide being a woman. How only so many people know, and how exhausting it is to pretend to be something you’re not.

-“Does Malleus know?”

“Malleus…?”

“The man you meet in front of your dorm at night.”

“Oh! Do you mean Hornton? No, I don’t know if he’s good at keeping secrets or not.”

“He is not.”

-Lilia is more than willing to be a force in your life that keeps you happy and healthy.

-He is more providing and giving than Crowley is, constantly giving you little gifts and ensuring you have enough money to keep taking care of yourself.

-You insist that he doesn’t need to do any of that, but his fatherly instincts tell him otherwise.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#trey clover #cater diamond #rook hunt #lilia vanrouge #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #rook hunt x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader

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minkieater · 1 month ago

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three fates ⟶ khj ⋆ ★

p. kim hongjoong x f!reader w. lots of drug use, and i mean a lot, so please if u don't like drugs don't read this !! 18+ there's smut too, minors dni PLS addiction, consumption, sex while intoxicated, age gap (18 and 22/21 and 24) lemme know if i missed anything!! wc. 13.6k <3

she's finally here <3 my baby!! i am in love with this, this is my favorite thing i've written, city boy joongie is my heart and soul. takes place in the same world as luck & carousel, but none of the characters we've met so far are here !!

♫ — one of these nights, the eagles “i’ve been searching for the daughter of the devil himself i’ve been looking for an angel in white i’ve been waiting for a woman who’s a little of both i can feel her but she's nowhere in sight”

hongjoong is an artist, a creator. everything he’s ever seen, touched, smelled or heard, every little thing he’s ever come in contact with could and has been used in his art in one way or another. he couldn’t help himself, he saw the beauty in everything, from the gloaming atop the horizon of the hudson river on the third day of his bender to the massive rats playing tag in the subway station in downtown brooklyn.

his clothes, his jewelry, his music, his apartment, his friends… everything and everyone is gorgeous, it has to be that way. the well of his creativity never runs dry, not living in this city, not with the life he’s created for himself.

coming from a small brownstone in brooklyn, he lived with his parents and younger sister, a quiet girl that was nothing like him. he was always the rambunctious older brother, could never keep his grades up, couldn’t go a week in school without getting in trouble. she, the scholar, was his parents’ shining star, as well as his own. he hoped she wouldn’t be anything like him, anything like their father.

he’d never compared himself to her, he knew he was just wired differently, a chemical concoction in his head that made him who he was and he loved it. he couldn’t picture his life, himself, any differently. he could never stay focused on one thing, always moving to the next project, always bouncing from opportunity to opportunity.

when he got into high school reality set in of where he lived, who he surrounded himself with, what exactly was accessible to him at all times. from alcohol to drugs to shows to backstages to underground raves, hongjoong learned very quickly the different paths he could take, the routes his life could go in.

he was a junkie, a junkie for adrenaline, for excitement, for anything this godforsaken city had to offer him. so he experimented.

his friends were just like him — loud, outspoken, covered in piercings and tattoos, much too young to have gotten them done professionally. they looked for nothing but a good time, they didn’t care about school, didn’t care about their futures, they cared about a sick guitar riff and how much their dealers were charging for an ounce of weed.

like his father, they introduced hongjoong to good music. growing up he listened to all his father’s favorite bands, from alice in chains to black sabbath to pearl jam, it set a tone for his future, laid the grounds for what the following decade of his life would look like. he spent weeknights, weekends, every night he wasn’t watching his younger sister he’d be at a different show in the city. no name bands, ones that were trying to get a foot in the door to the music industry to DJ sets at underground raves, blinding shows with flashing lights and a thumping bass he’d end up rolling at every damn time.

hongjoong’s friends introduced him to many, many things, but his favorite would have to be cocaine. feeling on top of the world, like he can accomplish anything and everything, hongjoong adored the white powder he often sniffed with a crisp dollar bill. his personality alone was akin to it, he bounced off the walls all by himself, but during a night of drinking the main thing that kept him going, pushing through until sunrise was the bag full of blow in his back pocket.

it got him through high school, it made him pay attention, it made him ask too many questions in class. it gave him confidence, he felt like the most attractive person in the world, like he was at the top of the food chain. it made him optimistic toward his future, he knew he’d become successful no matter what he did whenever he was at the peak of his high.

what he despised about blow was the come down. from feeling untouchable to drained of everything he was worth in about all of forty five minutes, that he couldn’t stand. the one solution, the only solution that every single one of his friends had given him: “joong, you just need to do another line.”

so he did, he always did more, but one thing about cocaine is that you never feel as good as that first line, the one that makes you untouchable, unstoppable, unkillable. he never thought he’d feel that again, that beautiful, unique euphoria, until he was a freshman in college, at a grimey city nightclub’s show of your band’s debut.

he watched you in awe, blown pupils taking in every last detail of you strumming your guitar. how your fingers moved from string to string, black painted fingertips going white from the pressure. how your hair flowed in the air as your head banged to the drums, how your red lips stained the microphone when you sang into it. he grew up listening to music, he spent years listening to great bands and really terrible ones, by now he knew the difference.

he knew then and there what field his career would lay in. dirt caked the floor he stood on, posters and receipts and papers of the sort covered the walls, the disgusting nightclub he now owed everything to offered him two things, you and the chance to make something of himself.

he knew your band was special, knew you had the raw talent to make it big. he wanted to see it, he could picture it now, your faces stretched across a billboard in times square. it was exciting, this feeling that flushed through him, knowing he was watching celebrities perform before they had their break, their break that would come soon if they just had someone to sign them.

he did everything in his power to wait diligently for your set to be over, already knowing that he and his friends would make it backstage, a routine for them every time they came to these shows. his head nodded along to the music, a can of beer in his hand, his hair tickling the back of his neck every time the main singer hit a note he himself couldn’t.

when your band finally made their last bow, thanking the crowd for their attendance and cheers, hongjoong felt the adrenaline in his fingertips. he was so, so close to meeting you, telling your band what he thought, buying you a drink. so close to taking you back to his dorm, untying your skimpy black bikini top, learning your tattoos to memory.

he usually went for the drummer — that he knew by now. after a few lines and a six pack he would ache to be bent over, or be the one bending someone over, that didn’t matter to him. what did matter was that he wanted a good fuck, he planned on it, he craved it, from trial and error his eyes always landed back on the drummer. it hasn’t failed him yet.

he wasn’t sure what made you different, why you caught his eye on the small stage, what stopped him from eyeing up the green haired drummer he couldn’t place. you were magnetic, with your bulky boots, revealing clothes, intriguing tattoos and piercings all up your ears. he wanted to smear the lipstick you wore down your chin, wanted to see it all over himself, prints of crimson running down his torso. he shivered, desire crawling up his spine when he pictured it, it was too easy, your stage presence was like no other.

when he got backstage and first saw you sitting on the torn up couch, handheld mirror in your grasp with three perfectly parallel lines laid across the glass, the confirmation was instant. you had a debit card on your lap, a rolled up dollar bill, sunglasses and that very lipstick he was fantasizing about laid across your thigh. a smile broke out across his face, one wicked and knowing, one that told everyone in the room hongjoong had found his game for the night.

you looked up to him from the amber colored couch, patches of questionable browns and grays mimicking a pattern across the rough material. your pupils were blown, huge and empty, matching the ones that stared back into them. the room backstage was small, a space he deemed claustrophobic, much too boxy for the amount of people occupying it. a mirror, a clothing rack and a couch, not much for a band to prepare for a show. he was impressed to say the least that a band of your aptitude had put on such a good performance in these conditions.

his friends went around the room in commendation, giving each member their own praise, complimenting the band as a whole. hongjoong was excited to do the same when he was in the crowd, but being back here with the adrenaline from the show being thick in the room, a voice told him to stay quiet, something that was close to impossible for him.

“you,” you began, and hongjoong’s neck snapped to you, greeted with a finger pointed directly at himself, “where did you get your jeans?”

“diesel,” he looked down to the ripped denim hugging his skinny legs, “vintage, i thrifted them from the shop on sackett.”

he watched as the eyes he couldn’t see the color of glanced up and down his figure, taking in every detail of his outfit, his body. you glanced back down to the mirror in your palm then back up to him, “you want a line?”

hongjoong’s feet were moving before he nodded yes. he sat down next to you on the decrepit couch, seated on the cushion in the middle. your hand moved under his chin and he could see his reflection in the glass below the lines, rich chocolate blending in with pupils, too wide to be able to tell where they started or ended.

he took the dollar from your raw, discolored fingers and sniffed, taking the line closest to you on the end. he was wide awake then, energy flooding his veins like he’d just slept for fourteen hours and drank three cups of coffee. his smile returned as he glanced at you, watched you do the same, took in every detail.

your hair, tucked behind your ears, laid in front of your shoulders far past the string of your bikini top. your lips were in a tight line, a streak of blood red below your nose, which had the rolled up bill just beneath the surface of your right nostril. he watched you sniff once, twice, both lines disappearing from the glass in your palm, your head tilting back with an additional sniff and a knuckle to your cupid's bow.

he watched in awe, a sparkle in his empty pupils, a flare in the sea of vast darkness. his dick twitched in his pants as he lost himself in the moment, his fogged up yet crystal clear head morphed you into some kind of seductress, a succubus, he had no chance of getting out of whatever spell you put him under, not that he needed one. all he could do, all he wanted to do is succumb.

succumb he did when you pressed him against the front door of your apartment, grabbed him by the throat and took him for everything he was worth. you were nonstop from that moment on the couch all the way to your apartment in queens, hands exploring and lips touching, tasting, giving, taking, there was no moment of question. no time to waste, not a fact to be shared, just a carnal desire that poured out of himself and into you, into your veins, into the blood that shared a color with your lipstick smeared onto hongjoong’s jaw.

he smirked knowing he got what he wanted, knowing he always gets what he wants, he was just that kind of person. shrouded in luck, like he had a guardian angel who refused to leave his side. from where he’s been to what he’s done, there was no way he should be alive, the chances of survival for a guy like him are slim to none.

the first time was in the bathroom of that club, where he pushed you into a stall and bent you over the toilet, your hands gripping onto a wall that you were sure had never been cleaned. markings of sharpie covered every inch, lewd and crude sayings, initials in hearts, phone numbers of random people who wronged the person that wrote it. you took every inch of him proudly, lifted your leg onto the toilet seat, ushering him to hit deeper, to empty himself inside you.

you left that bathroom in heavy breaths and lust darkened eyes, only for the two of you to last one more drink and another key bump before you were below the ground, on the subway to your apartment.

you didn’t get any farther than the entryway where you grabbed him by the throat, ushering for him to give into you, a power he didn’t just give away to anyone. he chuckled darkly and switched your bodies quickly, pressing your face against the art covered wall instead of the front door, smacking your ass with a force that made you cry out. he knew what you were, he could see it when you were onstage, nothing but a pain slut that let him fuck you in one of the dirtiest bathrooms he’s ever seen.

a low laugh left his lungs when he felt your core, fingers slipping through your release and his own cum that you’d been saving for later. he was immediately on his knees, eating it out of you, tasting the two of you mixed into one. the second time was in that very entryway, where he took you against the wall once more, this time with a low dim light peeking through the windows and a clear scent of fresh laundry and vanilla floating through the space. much cleaner, much sweeter, the opposite of what the two of you had endured just an hour earlier.

he ended the night in your bed, where he took you for a third, fourth and fifth, neither of you sleeping a wink. with the sunrise coming in through your half open window, sounds of sirens and cars passed by, drifting through the translucent rose colored curtains making them ruffle and bend to the noise. you had a cigarette between your lips, a tray with four more parallel lines sitting at the foot of the bed. you were naked, your tattoos your only blanket, hongjoong the same beside you.

“can’t believe you’re a fucking freshman in college,” you laughed through the smoke leaving your lips, a saccharine sound mixed with the smell of tobacco and menthol, “please tell me you’ve at least turned nineteen.”

hongjoong nodded, letting his fingers continue to trail your thigh, tracing the outline of the dragon that was soaring through the skin of your hip, “i’ll be twenty in november.”

a lie, one he knew would be believed, one that allowed you to sigh out in relief. he’d slept with much older, your measly twenty two was nothing to him, just another thursday night after a show, another experience to add to his arsenal.

“you said you go to NYU right? what’s an NYU student doing in brooklyn?” hongjoong smiled at that, he loved when people knew absolutely nothing about it him, made assumptions based on one thing they’d heard. he could make up anything he wanted, he could be whoever he wanted to be, not that you’d ever find out the truth. you’d never hear from him again after he stepped foot onto the sidewalk outside, back to his dorm, back to his roommate who would be waiting to ask him a million questions about his excursion.

tonight he was hongjoong, the nineteen year old that’d fucked you five different times in nine different ways, snorted countless lines of blow and hungout with a band he knew would make it. he wasn’t eighteen year old student hongjoong who was going to NYU because his parents were pushing him into accomplishing something, anything, trying relentlessly to get him out of the city’s gutter.

“to be fair, we’re in queens,” he cracked a smile, the corner of his lips lifting, “i grew up in bushwick, i come whenever i can. got lots of friends that still live around here.”

he didn’t know why he was being honest, this was his favorite part. maybe a small part of him was tired of lying, even if he’d done it already, he was ready for truth, ready for it to be laid bare for him, ready for it to point him in yet another direction. he didn’t care which direction it would send him in from your dingy apartment in queens, he just hoped it was upward, to something better than what he came from.

“why aren’t you guys signed yet?” there it was, the question that’s been clawing at him all night, sat fresh on his mind even when he was buried inside of you. the one truth he wanted to know, not your name that he already couldn’t remember, your age that’d already become irrelevant, or your address that he’d never even learned.

you sighed again, running a hand through your hair, collapsing into the plush pillows beneath you, “a few agencies have tried, none have been worth it. contracts are too strict, we won’t get paid enough, the companies aren’t popular enough. yasu handles all of that, i’m just told what we do or what we don’t do.”

“so if the right label approached you, one with money and connections and a contract that was perfect, you’d sign with them?” hongjoong asked, letting his eyes flutter shut, not that he felt tired. he’d need at least twenty milligrams of valium for that and even then it probably wouldn’t lure him to sleep, just enough to take the edge off, to let his head lie still.

you laughed, a bitter chuckle, “like who? republic fucking records? we’re performing in run down clubs across the city, we have miles to go before an agency worth anything takes an interest in us.”

hongjoong smiled through his eyes that stayed closed, that same smile he wore last night, the one that was both wicked and knowing. he could see it in front of him, an idea, a dream, a career. if he didn’t feel like shit he’d call up his parents and thank them for sending him to NYU, thank them for the opportunity to do something right with his life. his roommate would get a kick out of this.

he sat up on the bed and leaned forward, pulling the silver platter on his lap. he picked up the dollar bill that was slowly losing its shape with every sniff and lifted it to his nose, railing two lines from the tray. he tilted his head back and shook it, giving one last sniff before he was off.

“i have class,” he said as he searched for his pants around your cluttered bedroom before remembering he’d undressed in the entryway. you sat up with wide eyes, blinking at his sudden departure after a night of wild sex and snorting all of your coke.

“wait,” you called after him as he nearly ran through the bedroom door, “i want to give you my number, call me if you ever want to come see our show again, or if you want to do this again.”

he smiled from the open door in which the frame towered over him, shooting you a finger that said wait before he went in search of his clothes, phone, and wallet. he returned and saved your number in his phone, leaving the contact name as tattoo girl. in the moment it’d seemed easiest to remember you by.

he never ended up calling you, never ended up seeing another show that you mentioned. he went back to his dorm, to his life, and changed his major with a speed he hadn’t experienced before, despite his whole life being quick. he ate quick, he thought quick, he grew up quick, he learned quick, he did everything at such a rate he’d never experienced whiplash. this was normal.

music technology classes were not easy, but he thought himself lucky for the brain he was born with, his ability to adapt. for once in his life hongjoong wasn’t just good at school, he was excelling.

the connections he formed, his ever growing ability to network himself, show off his extensive knowledge of music itself, its history, the music scene in the city. never in his life had he thought he was born for something, never thought he had a purpose, just thought of himself as an open minded creative person who loved a good time. as he got deeper into his major which he thankfully didn’t change again, he realized there was one thing that remained constant all throughout his life, one thing that stayed with him through every phase, got him through every hump in the road.

when he came home that morning with pupils swallowing his eye color whole and lungs that had no breath left in them, he told his roommate he was changing his major and mingi was relieved. he was relieved and grateful, smiling because the first friend he made at NYU was going to be beside him for more than just sleepless nights across the dorm, letting out a sigh he kept trapped in his lungs because now could keep a better eye on hongjoong. the night before he was worried out of his mind, even if he knew hongjoong was born and raised in the city, mingi was raised in south korea.

mingi was told since he first started mentioning new york city to his friends and family to be careful, he had all of the horror stories told to him in depth, used as a weapon to scare him out of coming to the states. he never thought twice about it until he got here, stood face to face with hongjoong, and learned every dirty secret he had to offer. then he believed the horror stories, he believed that the city’s wretched dark side could really kill someone dead, even hongjoong who had become a good friend to him.

that fear was short lived, it was cut short the moment hongjoong took him to his first show in brooklyn. hongjoong could see the excitement in his eyes, that same adrenaline rush hongjoong considered himself addicted to as he watched mingi snort his first line of blow. he felt prideful, like he’d taken mingi under his wing and rebirthed him into a weapon the city couldn’t touch, couldn’t harm. he offered mingi the city’s beauty, the bright lights of the buildings at night, the pleasure of a woman he’d just met mere minutes ago.

the two of them became a pair, and hongjoong had grown to love the friendship, love the closeness that came with it. he wasn’t used to sharing so much time with one other person, he kept to himself if he wasn’t with his group of friends, even when he still lived at home he didn’t see the need for having one person to put all of his trust into.

mingi taught him a lot of things, the first being how to keep his head on straight and screw it tight. he kept hongjoong grounded, kept him centered around his music, kept him looking forward and never backward. he kept hongjoong flowing, retelling stories of nights they’d gone out together when hongjoong was feeling himself hit a creative block. mingi pulled hongjoong out of his hole when he’d snorted one too many lines, he’d put him in the shower, force feed him valium like it was candy.

it wasn’t until hongjoong was sat on a wooden stool in the soundproof booth of his school’s recording studio two years later that he’d be reminded of you again. strumming along to into the void by black sabbath, a song he loved since he was young, getting frustrated when his fingers slipped up around the bridge, they always slipped up at the bridge — the chords were so close together, it was ironic that something which took speed would trip him up.

“joong!” mingi called from outside of the booth, turning the microphone on, ripping hongjoong from his frustrations. “i got accepted! you need to check your email now.”

hongjoong left the booth in a rush, swinging his guitar back into its stand haphazardly, pushing the microphone he was keeping close to his lap back into the open space of the recording booth. he grabbed his phone and opened the email, relief washing over him like the stream from his apartment’s moldy shower head when he read we have selected you to join republic records as a production intern for the spring term.

hongjoong looked to mingi with wide, disbelieving eyes, unable to form a single reason why one of the biggest record labels in the city would accept him, choose him. hongjoong had been more than proficient in his work, with his grades, with forming relationships with big names in the industry — but at the end of the day, when he looked at himself in the mirror, all he saw was the same sixteen year old boy from brooklyn who’s only future was spent on the sidewalks of manhattan, maybe a shelter if he was fortunate enough. not a cent to his name, barely any clothes on his back, spending his adult years asking faceless people for a couple dollars just to buy himself a burger.

it was his parents’ biggest fear, it kept his mother up all night in her queen sized bed, his father no doubt already passed out drunk beside her. she laid there with wide eyes listening to his snores, staring at her cracked ceiling praying for the day she gets to watch her son walk across that big stage, graduation cap flattening his shaggy haircut. she smiled at the thought, but the severity of the situation hit her much deeper, it wiped the smile right off her face. hongjoong was a wild card, she never knew what to do with him, how to keep him walking in a straight line, her last attempt was sending him to such a prestigious college. she begged him to see the value, see what she was sacrificing to send him there, see the desperation she slipped over her head like a uniform when hongjoong was at the ripe age of twelve.

“you’re in production?” mingi twisted his neck to look over hongjoong’s shoulder, the height difference making it easy for him, “i’m in artist relations.”

“what’s artist relations?” hongjoong asked while lifting a brow, looking up to the phone his lanky best friend held tight in his hand.

mingi moved the phone lower, closer to him, sharing the screen to read the email word for word, “interns work closely with signed artists to assist in their day-to-day needs, organizing promotional activities, tours, and managing communications between the artist and the label.”

hongjoong laughed at that, his head tipping back, his eyes fluttering shut in hysterics. mingi’s cheeks flushed, his mouth shut tight and lips lifting at the edges ever so slightly, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. it took hongjoong a moment to get it together before he said, “so you’re someone’s personal assistant?”

“no!” mingi’s voice was raised, he took a breath, “yes, maybe, i guess so, whatever! i’m still interning at republic and a hierarchy is something to climb no matter where you start.”

hongjoong laughed again, clutching his stomach that had a slight ache in the pit then looked down to his lit up screen, “i’m assisting with music recording, mixing, and mastering. may help in studios, learning about the technical side of producing records, blah blah blah. i got the good one.”

“shut up,” mingi grumbled, locking his phone and shoving it in his pocket, “asshole, they're both good, i was excited. don’t ruin it.”

“i’m just fucking with you, ming, you should be excited. being a personal assistant means you get the inside scoop,” hongjoong smirks, “plus we can tell each other about our jobs.” he lifts his index finger, already thinking of what comes next, “we’re gonna learn every inch of that place and every job before we even get hired, we’ll be behind the big desk in no time.”

mingi nods as if hongjoong’s strategy had planted itself directly into his head through shared brain waves, “you’re right, you’re so right, holy shit you’re so right.”

hongjoong’s eyes go wide again, the realization settling in, “we’re interns at republic records.”

it brought him back to that night, you with your husky voice and tattooed legs and piercings that shone in the path of moonlight through your bedroom window, the cigarette you held between two dainty fingers … you that brought him here, you that handed him this idea along with four white lines on a silver platter.

pieces started falling into place, everything started to click, he remembered just a month ago he saw an advertisement for your band, a black piece of paper stuck to a light pole, performing at the red lion in greenwich village. he didn’t spare it a second thought, didn’t even process that he knew you when he saw it, too engrossed in how he was rushing to a class he was late for and the music in his headphones and the redbull he was juggling between his phone and laptop and keys.

he didn’t think much of it again until he was two months deep in his internship, walking through the dim hallways of republic records with two cups of coffee in his hands, one for himself and one for the producer he was working next to that day. he walked by one of the practice rooms, door shut with a square window in the center, he caught nothing but a glimpse of your hair but it was enough to make him stop in his tracks, to feel the coffee in the confines of their cups threaten to overflow their lids.

he stopped there for a moment, peered through the glass box, let his brain backtrack to that fall of two years ago. god, what the hell was your name again?

he couldn’t hear a note yet he longed for the main singer’s mellifluous voice to kiss his pierced ears, he could see you working the crowd in his memories when you were performing for nothing but a blank brown wall, he let his eyes drift to the green haired drummer. what could have been.

he pulled himself from the trance you had pulled him under again, much similar to when he first met you. hair cut shorter, edgier, more ink filling spaces in your soft skin that were empty the last time he saw you, much more clothing on your body this time around. at this point you must be twenty four, hongjoong himself just twenty one, just legal to drink in public, not that his age had ever stopped him before. it didn’t stop him from doing anything he wanted.

he kept walking, beckoning his legs to push one foot in front of the other before he arrived back at the studio he was in for the day. he felt cloudy, like he needed a line, something to pull him out of his head, but he needed to reminisce. he remembered your conversation even in his coked out state, the way you laughed at him for suggesting such a perfect label to exist, the way republic records slipped off your tongue like it was nothing but a pipe dream you stored in the darkest corners of your head.

hongjoong believed in fate, he always told himself there was no other reason for his life to be the way it is. hongjoong had experienced plenty, he’d woken up on too many stoops in neighborhoods he started the night across from, had one too many syringes full of narcan shot in his arm when his cocaine was cut with fentanyl. he’d survived to tell the tale, not just survived but he kept living, what else did he have to thank?

sheer luck, a guardian angel, fate, whatever it was he was thankful it stayed with him for so long, perched on his shoulder when he’d do the same things that made the front page of the new york times. there were too many lines in his life that crossed, too many threads that webbed for there not to be some external force, something he didn’t have a hand in. when yours and his threads crossed, got tangled that one night in the pits of brooklyn, he couldn’t help but think that the two years he’d spent his life up to this moment was the untangling.

as mingi stood in their shared apartment later that night, telling him about his day, talking about the band he was assigned to, hongjoong couldn’t believe his ears when the word clotho left mingi’s lips. out of all the interns, all the employees in that massive building, all of the record labels in the city, you signed to the agency he worked for and mingi was assigned to assist you.

he let him speak, let him complain about listening to your harsh demands, your continual need to practice the same song until they got it right, the way you flirted with mingi and how mingi ate it up. he let mingi speak with open ears, normal sized pupils and a nasty drip sliding down the back of his throat before he had enough. pulling the bag of his coke from his pocket he grabbed his favorite tray he kept right on the coffee table, spread the snow and cut it with a card from his wallet and sniffed. no dollar bill, no straw he sliced in half, just a finger pressed to his pierced nostril leaving the other one raw and full of blow.

“christ, joong, it’s eight at night on a monday,” mingi shook his head at his friend, “do you really need to be railing lines right now?”

“i fucked her,” hongjoong admitted plainly, crossing his right leg back over his left knee.

“what? who?” mingi asked, his eyebrows reaching his hairline, leaning over in the recliner in their shared living room.

“the guitarist from clotho, the one who’s name apparently neither of us know,” hongjoong chuckled before shaking out his arms, shaking off the discomfort of a possession he had no right feeling, “i fucked her.”

mingi sat there, blinking, not a word leaving his lips for moments before his brain turned back on, “i won’t- i didn’t know- when did you even?”

hongjoong waved him off with ring clad fingers before standing, walking towards his bedroom, “do what you want with her, just figured i’d let you know.”

hongjoong never had a girlfriend, a boyfriend, a relationship that lasted longer than one drunken night. even when he was younger he’d never experienced the puppy love all of his peers got themselves into, the only desire he felt was the rush of getting away with something, he’s craved that since before he can remember. possession wasn’t an emotion he was used to, one he rarely experienced at all, he couldn’t pinpoint why that spark of control showed itself when talking to mingi of all people.

he left your apartment in a race that night, he couldn’t of cared less about you in the moment, he never thought about you again until two months ago, over two years after he slept with you in the first place. he thought you special maybe, a fucked up train of thought when he couldn’t even remember your name, special despite how utterly ordinary that night was. special because he had you to thank for the path he was on now, what he's accomplished since that night with you. maybe it was gratitude, adoration, maybe just someone to look up to if he considered your success comparable to his own, he didn’t know and it was driving him insane.

his night with you was nothing out of the ordinary, he did nothing with you that he hadn’t done with tens of other people, yet the pedestal still remains tall. he tried to think about it in his sleepless night yet he got absolutely nowhere, no resolution, no explanation for the whirlwind he’d put himself through over hours. he sat up in his bed and sighed, a cold sweat lingering on his tanned skin, then he grabbed the guitar from beside his bed.

he let the feeling consume him that night, let it pour out into every note his painted fingers strummed along the guitar. as the sun peeked through his bedroom window the next morning he decided that one night of thinking was all he could handle, he chose to let the feelings be what they are and put them on the old metal rack along with his guitar.

he didn’t see you through that window to the practice room again, and he’d purposely walked by plenty of times in the weeks to follow. coming into mid march, for some reason the company was busy. hongjoong was keeping up, of course he was, juggling the workload from the producer he worked with and then everything else that was added to his plate by numerous other producers of the company. hongjoong was famous in that building, he was a dream intern, every person of a higher rank in that building wanted him for something.

hongjoong loved it, he loved the attention, he loved being depended on, he loved being busy most of all. reaching deadlines, bouncing back and forth between different artists and their own genre of music, hongjoong was nothing but a sponge in the ocean that was republic records. he soaked everything in, he learned everything, he remembered everything, he loved that his extensive knowledge was only ranging farther.

when he woke up that morning to the sunrise and a clear head after playing acoustic versions of rock songs all fucking night, he did exactly what he told himself he was going to. even if he wanted to think about you again he didn’t have a moment to himself to be able to, his internship was taking up so much of his personal time most days his homework wasn’t even a priority. the internship told him when he started to let them know if the workload was too much, if it was affecting his studies, but in what world would he do that? after leaving his bubble of adolescence of being a regular college student and entering the adult world, his career, why would school come first? he was already doing it, already loved by so many people, it was only right that hongjoong would fixate on what was working.

“we’re recording today,” jag, the producer he worked with, didn’t even have the decency to greet hongjoong with a hello. so backed up, so overworked, jag looked like he hadn’t slept in three days.

“with who?” hongjoong paid no mind to his unpleasant greeting, setting a coffee down right in front of him. jag’s eyes widened, a sparkle shining through the deepest of browns, he immediately brought the cup up to his chapped lips. jag’s favorite, this hongjoong knew by now, he also knew how jag worked, how to put him in a better mood even on his worst days.

“clotho,” jag said after a refreshing sigh, pleased with the hot drink he was gifted, “they’re finishing up their album, they’ve been working with max for majority of the recording. max called out sick, so they’re with us.”

hongjoong’s eyebrows raised, his mouth opening ever so slightly. jag caught on to the surprise, much like how observant hongjoong was, jag also paid a lot of attention to the boy with the sand colored mullet. jag snickered, “you have the same look on your face as when you slept with anitta and we had her in the booth the next day.”

“you know me too well,” hongjoong sat down in the chair beside him and let out a noise of relief as he got comfortable, cracking his knuckles as he spoke, “i fucked the guitarist.”

jag laughed, a belly laugh from the pit of his stomach, “which one?”

“the lead guitarist, the one covered neck to toe in tattoos,” hongjoong brings his attention to the monitor, an entirely different project jag was working on spread across the screen.

jag rubbed his face with his hands, “do we need to get every artist an STD test? i’m starting to get scared you’ll cause an outbreak.”

hongjoong rolled his eyes before responding with a playful smile, “you know i’m clean.”

their small talk didn’t get much further before your band was barreling through the studio, yawns and huffs of air being thrown about the space. hongjoong kept it professional, he kept his focus on the mixing board, the monitor, pulling up the file to the tracks that they were working on that day.

you looked… tired. no makeup, guitar case strapped to your back, tattoos hiding under the cotton of your sweats. it was early, the company had them working not just at dawn but also on the weekend, two things that weren’t normal for scheduling or recording. you didn’t notice him yet, or you were ignoring him, hongjoong wasn’t sure but he also didn’t care. he needed to get you in that booth, get the recording done as fast as possible so he could meet his friends at baby’s all right later.

at the start of the first track on the album they’d record that day, hongjoong knew the moment you saw him, the second you recognized his pierced nose and shaggy hair that was much longer now than the last time you’d seen him. he could see it in the way your eyes widened and the pause you took before you took your pick from your lips, he watched the gears turn in your head, he watched every memory play out in your eyes from that night two years ago. jag seemed to notice too by the way his palm slapped hongjoong’s knee under the desk, a breath of amusement leaving his lips.

your movements were slowed, it took you entirely too long to shift the microphone so it stood correctly in front of you, but you shook yourself out of your thoughts as the rhythm guitarist played the first few clean, arpeggiated chords. this song… hongjoong recognized it immediately, the memories once again flooding back to him.

once you got through the haunting intro, through the slow burn build into heavier, distorted riffs, hongjoong thought that you might be a siren, too. instead of a melodic voice, it was the resonance you played through the strings under your calloused fingertips hooking him, once again pulling him into a trance, a spell you weren’t even conscious of casting. when it got to your solo in the middle of the song, backed up with an underlying chord progression from the rhythm guitarist and a deep bass line, he could feel it from head to toe. the entrapment, the sight in front of him that he couldn’t bear to look away from. the back up instruments set a platform, a center for you to take the stage in the small recording booth, for the focus of the listener to hear you, focus on you.

he had a job. he had buttons to press, things to adjust, he had to listen with an assessing ear, he had to snap out of it. he watched as your chipped nail polish slipped from string to string, the other hand clenched tightly around your guitar pick. he watched as you nodded along to the drums, eyebrows furrowed in focus of following the mid tempo groove, listening to the song as much as you were playing it. he knew that feeling, that multitasking, listening and doing and following and evaluating all at once.

he blinked a few times before directing his focus to the monitor instead of watching you shred in the booth, he fell in and out of focus for the entire session between his eyes being locked on you and making sure your song was being recorded properly. he thought he’d let go of what he felt, laid his feelings to rest in his favorite instrument beside his bed, but as he watched you strum along to the fourth track they’d record that day he decided maybe there was a reason your paths crossed once again.

just like that one night spent with him and his music, the feelings he didn’t want to address, he spiraled into yet another torment of not being able to process anything. all he had was this unidentifiable emotion, a pang in his chest, he didn’t know what to do with it or how to address it properly. he looked at from all sides, contradicted himself, tried to unpack it for exactly what it was, but he still felt himself unable to move from square one.

by the end of the session hongjoong’s brain was on backwards, he was barely of help to jag the entire time you were in the booth. jag gave him a pass even if he was entirely confused as to why hongjoong was acting so fucking weird, he’d never acted so out of it, even during the session with anitta. jag chopped it up to the fact that hongjoong was probably overworked much like himself, even if something tugged at him, telling him there was more going on in hongjoong’s head than just exhaustion.

the rest of the session went a lot easier than hongjoong thought it would based off of the insight he’d gotten from mingi, but he guessed he shouldn’t have assumed how you’d act from just one conversation that was ages ago. mingi hadn’t mentioned you or the band again since that night, deeming it a sensitive topic, one he’d like to avoid since him and hongjoong kept the people they fucked very separate, except for those they shared. you were rather quiet towards hongjoong, only what was necessary for getting the recording done, he couldn’t pull anything from you except for eyes boring into the back of his head from across the room and a short snap of a complaint when he noticed a bleed from the microphone.

hongjoong was exhausted beyond belief by eight o’clock yet he still had an entire night ahead of him. he packed up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, relieved he was about to go drink away the new emotions he’d encountered.

“you alright?” jag asked, a weird question coming from jag who usually kept their conversations light hearted, he rarely picked hongjoong apart.

“‘m fine, just tired,” hongjoong waved him off with a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. jag lifted an eyebrow, too curious but too scared to ask. him and hongjoong’s relationship was specific, a teacher and his student, despite the not always innocent conversation that sometimes felt like it was between two friends. he didn’t find it his place to intervene on the conversation that’s been going on for hours in hongjoong’s head, better to let hongjoong come to him if need be.

“see you monday,” was all jag called after hongjoong who had already left the studio’s door, an echo through the heavy wood.

hongjoong didn’t expect to turn and see you pressed up against the wall, guitar encased at your side, the sleeves of your sweatshirt rolled up to your elbows. you smiled, an eerie smile, one that told hongjoong everything he was feeling earlier was about to be intensified, amplified, much like the sound of your instrument.

“you didn’t think to tell me you worked here?” you tilted your head, the smile of a cheshire cat sitting wide on your cheekbones.

“and how would i do that?” hongjoong grabbed your guitar case from beside the wall and began walking, ushering you to follow along. if you were going to talk, it should be away from jag’s curious ears.

“maybe make use of the phone number you’ve had in your phone for two years?” it sounded like a question but hongjoong assumed it was more of an instruction, a curious sentence that left much to be dissected.

hongjoong laughed a soft chuckle, “i didn’t think it was necessary.”

“well that’s rude,” you scoffed, grabbing your guitar case from his hand and swinging it over your own shoulder, “this is the last place i would’ve expected to see you.”

“and i feel the opposite,” he turned to look at you, almost his height in your platform sneakers, “you laughed at me when i knew exactly where you’d end up.”

“ah, buttering me up now, are we?” you smirked, “didn’t know you thought so highly of clotho.”

“why else would i sleep with the lead guitarist?” hongjoong joked, his own smile growing wide, the fog he felt in the studio was long gone by the time you reached the end of the hallway. entering the space just before the elevator to take them down to the lobby, hongjoong pressed the button and faced you.

“that’s fucked up,” you said between your giggles, “you wanna be my groupie now?” you shifted your weight to one foot, making yourself just smaller than the man before you. “i’ll allow it, i guess.”

“who said i wanted to do it again?” hongjoong’s mischievous smile was permanent across his cheeks now and you gasped, slapping his bicep. the elevator dinged and opened quickly, an empty dimly lit space demanding you to continue the conversation.

“what are you doing later?” you asked as you stepped inside, leaning against the bar that was fused against the wall opposite of hongjoong.

“going to baby’s all right with a couple friends,” hongjoong answered plainly, ignoring the voice tugging at him to ask you to come with.

“got room for one more?” you beat him to it, you’ve been bold since the day he met you, he didn’t know why it took him by surprise.

he stuttered a bit in his agreement and you told him to meet you at your apartment, a new one in brooklyn, not the one you used to occupy in queens. he didn’t have the strength to tell you he grew up in the same neighborhood, he knew your address like the back of his hand, that this is yet another thread sewn into the web. hongjoong believed in fate and he believed in signs, it seemed that every one was pointing in your direction. he trusted the signs, trusted in luck, trusted in fate, trusted in whatever kept itself on his shoulder that this path he was taking was the right one.

he never cared much for right and wrong when it came to anything, especially entertaining the idea that his own actions would change how his life would turn out. hongjoong never had any goals or expectations for his life, he assumed how he’d turn out before the age of fifteen, he was careless unless it benefited him to put in an effort for anything yet he never considered that might put him on the wrong path, it just was what it was. from stealing a twenty dollar bill from his mother’s second hand coach bag to working alongside one of the most famous music producers in the city, before two years ago when hongjoong actually felt that he was moving upward, he never took into consideration that maybe his actions did have consequences, maybe he chose what path his life went in by the smallest of decisions.

he showed up to your apartment late, much to your dismay, even if you were also late yourself. you took about ten more minutes after he’d buzzed up to your apartment to let you know he’d arrived, leaving him to his own devices on your stoop. when you’d finally walked out of your front door hongjoong’s right nostril twitched, he was used to only one thing giving him this kind of rush, this sensation he felt at every nerve ending. you were fucking breathtaking with your microscopic skirt and shirt so small he didn’t know if you could consider it anything other than a bra. makeup dark and sultry, lips so red he had flashbacks to when he scrubbed smudges of it off of the base of his neck. your hair was down and straightened, framing your cheekbones so beautifully, the shadows it created made you look like a creature of the night in the most dangerous way.

he felt like he was looking at you for the first time all over again, the last two years had done you well, all of the coke and drinking and partying hadn’t aged you in the slightest. it was rare that excessive consumption didn’t affect one's appearance, most of his hometown friends had begun to resemble zombies years ago, you seemed to be immortal. the walk to the bar was short, less than ten blocks away, and hongjoong was grateful. he was using tonight for release, he needed to let go of everything he’s been responsible for, take a night to forget everything and just be. of course, out of all nights, someone who he worked with just a few hours ago would be accompany him, but at least it’s you.

“have you been to this place?” you asked, the innocence in your voice contradicting the heaviness of your boots hitting the concrete.

hongjoong nodded, his hands shoved in his pockets, “many times.”

“we performed here a couple months ago i think, i don’t really remember it much, i got hammered as soon as we got off the stage,” you were talking mindlessly, just sparking up a conversation so you weren’t walking silently beside each other.

“it’s cute, less grungy and dirty and more..” he racked his brain for a way to describe it, falling into a momentary silence, “picturesque for the instagram models of the city, i guess?”

you laughed at that, “then i’ll put your hands to good use and you can be my personal photographer for the night, my followers will be grateful.”

hongjoong’s lips grew into a smirk, “there are better ways to put my hands to use.”

“we still have a whole night to get through before i can attest to that,” you raised a finger towards him in protest, your own smile growing, the two of you falling into easier conversation once the flirting started up again.

“we’ve only walked a block, we can easily turn around,” hongjoong came to a stop, looking back to the stretch of ground they had just hiked, eyes full of amusement yet he was also dead serious. there are plenty ways to let off steam.

you rolled your eyes, “normally i’d agree, but i’m in the mood to party and if you’re anything like you were two years ago i don’t think you’re capable of a quickie.”

the two of you fell into stride again, “i can say with confidence that i am not fond of quickies.”

you brought up work after that, talked about the album, compared recording with hongjoong and jag to max. hongjoong half tuned out at that, he answered where he needed to but he was over the work talk, he needed to get to that bar now.

you met up with his hometown friends once you got there, people you slightly recognized from backstage two years ago, but there were a few hongjoong had to introduce you to. once you mentioned clotho you had more to talk about with the group of people, being the lead guitarist of a band signed by republic records was always a great conversation starter.

hongjoong kept his tab open, let you order whatever you wanted on it for the night, to you that was an invitation to get fucked up as much as it was payback for snorting all of your coke two years ago. you were intrigued at this point, not just by hongjoong himself but about what was going on in his head. you’d assessed the situation while you were getting ready as much as you wanted to leave it at a free night of partying, but you couldn’t shake the curiosity that came along with the presence of kim hongjoong.

after he had left your apartment two years ago in such a rush, you’d hoped he’d call you for at least two weeks after. even a text, whatever you could get from him was enough, because you’d never had a night like that with anyone, the sex being something that no other person you’d invited to your bed could compare to. everything about him physically, the shared interests, the banter, the easy conversation. you were coked out of your mind yet you still remember every detail of that night, even almost a thousand days later hongjoong had left his mark on you without it being intentional.

then you saw him again, and he was working for you. he was sitting behind the mixing board with headphones on, looking unbothered as ever, you wondered if he even remembered you, if that night stayed with him the way it stayed with you. once your eyes met and you could feel the knowing shared from a single, too long stare through the glass, you had to talk to him, had to pick his brain, had to insert yourself into his life like what you shared wasn’t just one night so you could do it again.

you took his invitation and drank to your heart’s content, and he did, too. both of you ended up in the cramped crowd of the DJ, so unlike hongjoong, very much like you, drowning in a swamp of sweaty bodies. everyone was jumping, arms swinging to the beat, phones with flashes on all pointed towards the stage. hongjoong was gone as he planned, his mind forgetting everything except for the beautiful woman beside him, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. watching you as you jumped in the air, swaying to the music, everything bouncing to the bass, he was getting impatient and his dick could feel it.

he needed a bump to take the edge off, reset him so he didn’t rush you out of your fun, he enjoyed seeing you so carefree. in your monologue about your album you’d seem stressed, hongjoong assumed you needed to get away for a night just as much as he did.

“i need a bump,” he yelled over the music, grabbing your forearm that you kept at your side to get your attention, the other one hung above your head.

“me too!” you yelled back, looking up to him with those big doe eyes, there goes his reset. he didn’t think you’d come with, too wrapped up in the set the DJ was playing, but he stupidly thought wrong – you were just like him, after all. your hand latched onto his and he lead you out of the crowd, through the crowded bar, and then outside to the sidewalk of broadway. he nodded his head to the bouncer and wrapped around the building that still had a line outside the door to somewhere quieter, where people would be less likely to interrupt you.

“joong, i think we could’ve stayed in front, it’s not like he cares,” you pointed out, referring to the bouncer as you finally turned the corner, pulling your box of cigarettes from your purse.

he pulled the baggie from his pocket along with his keys, splitting them until he found his apartment key that had old coke lodged into the rivets of the metal, “excuse me for not wanting to share.”

you giggled, stumbling a little bit over your feet when you tried to light the cigarette, “wanna go soon?”

he looked up to you with eyebrows raised as he brought the key up to his nose, “yeah? you ready?”

“want you already, tired of waiting,” your legs instinctively crossed, thighs pressing together as you pulled from the cigarette, the tip burning a bright orange.

his smile returned, the devilish one that he seemed to only wear around you, “what? you don’t wanna party anymore? that’s the only reason we’re here, baby.”

your thighs flexed below your skirt at his words as he brought the key up to your nose after your exhale of smoke, smirking as you sniffed, “don’t call me baby unless you’re fucking me against the wall.”

he laughed at your body reacting to his words, something that came so naturally to him throwing you for a loop, the thought crossing his mind just for a moment that maybe he should’ve done this a lot sooner. he let you burn down half the cigarette before he was feeling the same level of impatience and you were starting to look even sexier, the rush of the bump coursing through his blood and sending all of it straight to his dick.

“let’s go say bye and then i’ll fuck you stupid at home, no bathroom this time,” he grabbed your hand again instinctively, leading you back inside the club, letting you throw the still lit cigarette to the busy street.

he found his friends quick and said bye even quicker, his pants started tightening the moment you crossed your legs and they weren’t getting any baggier as time went on. the walk back to your apartment reminded him of the subway ride from the last time, each block you walked had you pressed up on a random stoop, hongjoong’s tongue in your mouth and hand sliding farther and farther up your skirt with each stop. you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other, too needy, too impatient, a feeling you kept passing back and forth through spit and moans on brooklyn doorsteps.

you didn’t let lust take over in the entryway this time, hongjoong quickly learned this apartment wasn’t just your own but instead shared. a man’s jacket sat hung on the coat rack on the foyer, three pairs of men’s shoes shuffled about the floor. that possessiveness returned, coating a thick layer over him before he looked up. your apartment was massive, no way you were affording this on your own even in brooklyn, maybe you had two roommates. the apartment was decorated less cozy than the last time he was here, more like your band’s style, rough and dirty and dim. it didn’t smell of vanilla but instead mahogany, a hint of bourbon, so much more masculine than he’d expected.

hongjoong’s gut twisted with the information and he pushed it down, ignored it, pretended you shared the space with a ghost instead as you lead him through the apartment and to your room quickly, pushing him against the door the second you heard the latch enter the door frame. you were on your knees in seconds, not wasting any time, only enhancing hongjoong’s need to have control as you unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans down.

“been dreaming of having this dick again for years,” you mumbled absent mindedly as you finally got him bare, naked and leaking, eyes wide and blown not just from the coke.

“should’ve came and got it then,” your revelation didn’t sink in, didn’t seem to click in hongjoong’s brain, too fucked up to think of anything other than fucking your throat as he finally got the wet heat of your mouth around him.

your nails clawed at the skin of his thighs as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each stroke, gagging yourself but pushing through nonetheless. hongjoong had his fingers tied in your hair, the back of his head pressed against the door, low groans leaving his lips with each tighten of your throat.

“so fucking good, missed that mouth,” drawled out of his lips as you worked him faster, wetter, your saliva beginning to run down his thighs. he loved it messy, dirty, you were taking him in his favorite way. he was in heaven, but the impatience was only growing. he needed you loud, screaming, cumming around his dick over and over again.

“should’ve came and got it then,” you shot back as you pulled off of him with a pop, catching your breath. tears laid in your lash line, lipstick so smudged and faded hongjoong wondered if it made a ring around the base of him.

“on the bed,” he ordered before you had the chance to take him in your mouth again and you were on your feet in a second, ripping your clothes off before you nearly jumped on the bed, greeting him with all of your limbs planted on the mattress on all fours.

“impatient,” he mumbled as he undressed himself, crawling onto the bed behind you, leaving a rough smack against your ass.

you moaned in response as your body jerked forward, legs spreading further in response. he loved that about you, the pain slut that lived inside you even if you tried to put up a dominant front. you weren’t shy about what you wanted, what you needed from him, always so responsive. maybe you were his favorite.

he slipped inside you with ease, you were wet enough to take him, you’d been waiting for this for hours. he set a brutal pace immediately, pounding into you leaving you a loud, crying mess. it wasn’t long before your arms gave out below you, sending your face flying into the comforter, definitely leaving streaks of black from your eye makeup. hongjoong couldn’t wait to see the mess you’d made.

“such a perfect pussy, like it was made for me,” his voice was slurred and low, close to babbles as he spoke deliriously between thrusts, he felt fucked out too, entranced by your pussy that was sucking him in.

“‘t was, it is, it's yours,” your voice matched his, cheek pressed to the mattress, one hand clawing behind yourself and another at the sheets to grab something, anything for leverage, “don’t stop, so good.”

he didn’t indulge in your grabs as he felt himself getting close, he definitely wasn’t lasting as long as he wanted to, but after a small break and another line he’d be roaring to go again. he wrapped an arm around your torso, middle finger finding your clit, circling it steadily. you cried out, jerking against him, thighs starting to shake under him.

“gonna cum!” you cried out, the strain in your voice let him know the tears that were in your eyes earlier had fell. he kept at his rhythm, fucking into you at the same pace of your circles and you tightened around him, letting go, crying out with no remorse for anyone who might also be here. as you grabbed at his hand and forced it off of you he let himself focus on his own orgasm, fucking back into you at the pace he knew would have him letting go in seconds.

“inside, joong, please,” you begged, voice rough and raspy, not giving him the chance to ask you where you wanted him. he indulged, emptying himself inside you with a groan, stilling as he leaned over the two koi fish swimming up your back.

your legs gave out after he pulled out, falling flat against your stomach, legs still twitching against the cotton. you moaned at the emptiness, the release, and hongjoong laid himself beside you. you stayed in silence for minutes, breaths of air occupying the air, the only thing you could hear in your bedroom. you had 80s thrash metal posters all over your walls, different paintings, things he recognized from your old room. it made him smile, knowing he was back here again, a different apartment yet the things he pointed out last time were still here. two years have gone by yet some things just don’t change.

“gonna have to show me your place next time,” you finally spoke, turning your head to face him, pulling your arms under your face to rest on.

“next time?” hongjoong asked, raising an eyebrow, “what makes you so confident that there’ll be a next time?”

you rolled your eyes, “you have no choice, there’s no way in hell i’m letting you get away from me again. and you’re putting your number in my phone before you go.”

you didn’t know that he had every intention of seeing you again, of showing up whenever you called, of doing whatever the hell you wanted him to whenever you wanted him to do it. he didn’t know that those calls would come quicker than he thought, he’d take you time and time again, these visits becoming more frequent the more time you spent together. he decided the feelings he harbored didn’t need to be unpacked, he could leave them unaddressed if that meant he could see you, be with you, get himself inside you after a long day. for the months to follow he stood by that, he didn’t think much of your relationship other than the fact that you had one, unlabeled and undisclosed.

he left your apartment the next morning slowly, much unlike last time, almost as if he didn’t want to leave. but you called him later that night, asked him if he wanted to come over, and of course he said yes, he hadn’t said no to that question yet. he found out you lived with two of your bandmates, yasu, the leader and the green haired drummer he learned was noa. they were both just as cool as you, that much he knew from the recording session you’d spent together, and hongjoong got along with them just as well as he got along with you.

he’d spent many nights partying with you and your band after shows or on random weeknights, just as much as you spent time with hongjoong and his friends from brooklyn, or even nights with just himself and mingi. you got to know each other on a level he hadn’t expected you to, one he didn’t necessarily allow you to, including that you found out his real age, you didn’t speak to him for an entire night of drinking after he’d told you the truth. you let it go later that night when he had you pressed against the wall, outside, behind the bar you were at, fingers scissoring into you for ignoring him, denying you release for the following hours to come.

hongjoong was at all of your recording sessions, he helped with marketing your band, helped other interns and even your manager with scheduling performances, interviews, you started to bleed into every part of his life, every aspect of his job. you found out about his laziness with schoolwork, you denied him the pleasure of being inside you until he got his shit together before the semester ended, it was a long two weeks for him, his fist and his coke dealer.

hongjoong was enamored by you, your lifestyle, your entire being. he didn’t ever think about what you were, he kept his thoughts about your relationship very surface level, terrified as to what would happen if he looked any deeper than that. he didn’t even take the time to consider whether or not you were exclusive, he didn’t let himself think about what you’d look like under someone else and how that made him feel, he didn’t need to. neither of you had any time, you were always with him, he was always with you if he wasn’t busy with the company or what was left of his junior year, you were too wrapped up in one another to think about anyone else.

somehow hongjoong was one of the last people to find out about your first tour, a quick four months across north america over the summer, ranging from june to september. he was ecstatic when he was told by his superior, he couldn’t wait to talk to you about it, the celebratory party to follow, just the fact that you were growing, making it just like he knew you would.

the label had you in a quick meeting when he found out, thirty minutes you spent inside the room with frosted glass windows, hongjoong spent his lunch break waiting just outside the door. the more time he spent tapping his foot, bouncing his knee, the more his brain started to think. you’d known about this for a month now, sitting on the information, not sharing it with him when he thought you shared everything. it became the longest thirty minutes of his life, he hadn’t felt this way in a long time, the drop of his stomach was such a rare occurrence he couldn’t remember five other times it’s ever happened to him. why hadn’t you told him sooner?

it terrified him, enough to leave his spot outside the door, to go all the way outside the building until he was greeted with the scent of summer in manhattan. he paced up and down the length of the building, racking his brain for why this was happening now, after he’d spent so much time with you, after he’d gotten completely comfortable around you, after he’d sank way too fucking deep. why hadn’t you told him sooner? it was as if his world was closing in on him, he hadn’t even felt this way when he was on the brink of consciousness before narcan was shot into his bloodstream, he’d never felt an attachment to someone let alone having it on the brink of being ripped away from him. this was betrayal.

it was only four months, but that was almost double the time you’d actually spent together. he felt himself walking on a road the past two months, a tunnel that had something unknown at the end, something totally new to him. he allowed it, he was blissfully ignoring his discomfort, the unknown, embracing this new type of relationship, this type of closeness with someone. he’d only gotten this close with mingi, only just allowed that type of friendship, he hadn’t let anyone else in since then, not even jag who he spent most of his time with other than you and mingi. he wouldn’t allow himself to bleed so freely, to show himself so naked, to give anyone else the opportunity to know him or hurt him. he kept everyone at arm's length for a reason.

hongjoong assumed this was the end of whatever was perched on his shoulder as he looked up to the clear, bright sky beyond the buildings, that was the only explanation he could muster up. he said goodbye, he thanked it for being with him all this time, for keeping a watchful eye, keeping him above the water. he wished it well.

he sniffed a bump and walked back inside the building with a distant cloud looming over him, a stoic look to his face, a carelessness that draped over him like your bedsheets in the early hours of the morning. he wouldn’t let you see him in such a state, you’d seen enough of him, more than you were ever supposed to.

hongjoong has never believed in regret, he’s a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, everything you go through is to teach you something. from overdosing on more than one occasion, it taught him to not do someone else’s coke, to know his dealer on a personal level, to know what his drugs were cut with. from disappointing his parents time and time again, it taught him to get sneakier, not give them hopes that he could shatter. from turning in weeks worth of homework late and only just passing his last semester of his junior year, it taught him to stay on top of his studies or he could easily lose everything he’s worked for. from sleeping with the lead guitarist of a random band in brooklyn and ending up an intern at republic records, it taught him that purpose and opportunities are everywhere if you’re keeping an eye out for them. from getting into something that’s the closest thing to a romantic relationship he’d ever experienced with the woman of his dreams, it taught him that if you leave your feelings exposed, someone is able to betray them, take them in their hands and toy with them, crush them if they wanted to.

he thought himself naïve. he wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

with a quick fifteen minutes and still not a word to you, he put his walls back up, higher than they’d ever been before, he was sina, rose and maria. he was aurelian when he walked straight past you in the lobby, hadrian when he walked past your bandmates who whipped their heads around to watch him walk to the elevator, jericho when he slipped inside the thankfully open door. he went back to the studio where jag was waiting for him, who playfully asked him if he was fucking his girlfriend in the bathroom and if that’s why he was late.

hongjoong snapped, told him to fuck off and jag listened. he didn’t ask any questions for the rest of the session, they went through the motions, got their workload finished for the day and went their separate ways. jag knew, of course jag knew, jag knew hongjoong like the back of his hand by now. since january, five months the two have been a pair, close without being close, jag is an observant man and hongjoong is not good at hiding his emotions.

hongjoong didn’t answer your calls, didn’t answer your incessant rings of his doorbell, ignored your begs at the door of the recording studio, it didn’t take long until everything stopped. you got on that bus headed straight to florida and he couldn’t stop the slip, the easy slide of becoming the eighteen year old version of himself again.

he turned his brain off outside of the music he made, the paintings he created, the drawings that now littered even the floor of his bedroom. the label was busy, he immersed himself in his work, he didn’t even have school to keep him occupied until august, he let every ounce of his energy go into republic records and substances. after work he was in the pits of brooklyn, seeing every show he could, in every club in the city, taking every drug he could get his hands on. his friends were happy to have him back, to have the fun hongjoong in the mix for their benders, another body to sleep with at the end of the night.

mingi forced him out of it before school started up again, telling him to get his shit together or he’d really lose everything this time. hongjoong was malleable by now, brain so fried from his summer that he just nodded at mingi and tried to set himself up. mingi helped him, basically set hongjoong up himself, enrolled him in his senior year and chose his classes. hongjoong didn’t care, he wished he could do it himself, wished he could think for longer than two minutes without your name crossing his mind. for someone who couldn’t remember your name for the life of him, it was the only thing he could think now, it wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone.

at this point hongjoong thought you a phantom, that night he saw you as a creature of the night would really come true — you invaded his dreams, his nightmares, his trips when he dropped acid. you were everywhere, you were everything, he didn’t know how he could ever come back from this, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

as he sat on the balcony of his apartment in mid august with a joint between his fingers, hours after vomiting up the oxy one of his friends had slipped him, he decided he had enough.

hongjoong is a lot of things. he’s obsessive, he’s a wild card, he’s an addict, he’s a hard worker, he’s a partier.

but first and foremost, hongjoong is a creator.

he creates art, he creates music, he writes, he draws, he paints. he recites songs from memory, he plays them on the guitar after hearing them just once, hongjoong is gifted. hongjoong created himself, he created this life, he created every path he’s ever walked on. fuck luck and fuck fate, hongjoong created every situation he’s ever been in, created every opportunity for himself, created the name that gets passed through every ear of republic records.

hongjoong created himself, and he’d burn the world down before someone could ever take that away from him. by september he’d become a junior producer, crossing the line of intern to employee in just nine months, faster than anyone else in republic record’s history.

he just hoped his resolve stayed intact when you finally stepped off that tour bus and walked back into republic records, ready to begin recording your band’s second album.

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rainyorca · 3 months ago

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Flowers Don’t Bloom In Winter ❀ Logan Howlett x Reader

Content Warnings: F!reader, angst/no comfort, character death, kissing/make out, implied smut, mild gore, strangers to friends to lovers.

Summary: “Are you scared?” he asks, voice low but there's genuine curiosity in the gentle cadence of his voice. Your eyes meet his. “You could never scare me.”

You'll wilt, all flowers die. But he'll bloom again.

Notes: I’ve been a wolvie fan since i was suppperrr young and I am so glad him (and hugh) are getting attention again. This is my second-ish time writing for him, I just got done rewatching the movies for the first time in a while so hopefully I did him a little justice. His hair in origins will forever be my favorite but in this you can think of him from any movie, there is no set one, no set timeline wolvie.

Words: 6,121

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

You're not a weapon.

You’re more human than everyone else.

Human was a funny word, to Logan at least. Being human meant a lot of things, mutant wasn’t one of them. Stuck as a mutant with the heart for a human, what a tragedy. Actually, did he even have a heart? Oftentimes he would spend nights trying to find his own heartbeat, a hand laying on his chest while he stared up at the ceiling.

When he met you he wondered if you knew what he was, the way you stared at him when he came in and sat down at the bar made him curious. Most don't know, he looks normal on the outside, so how would you know? But he did have a hard time keeping his eyes off you too, you smelled human but there was something so sweet about your scent, it made you different from others.

Wisteria, sandalwood, jasmine and maybe a hint of vanilla, he couldn't really pinpoint what you smelled like (however it reminded him of forests, nature, his old home) all he knew was that he wanted the scent to last forever, like a candle he could buy over and over again. He would only watch the stage when you got up there and when you're done, he would be too.

You came to the bar shortly after to get yourself a drink, your eyes resembled a rabbit’s; innocence and beauty all in one, and they immediately found him. There was something else in your eyes, deep within like you were trying to figure him out. When you got closer to him your scent got stronger, so strong it was almost overwhelming. No human has ever had that effect on him before, at least not enough to make him physically react like he did, squeezing his glass a little tighter.

“Hello,” you smiled brightly, like a blooming flower, voice gentle whilst you greeted him.

“You must be new, I haven't seen you at the bar before.”

“Just figured I’d try out a new place,” he responds, an attempt to try and be friendly despite his intimidating looks. You smile again, swallowing down the remains of your liquor and then putting the dish in the sink. “Glad you came to us,” your eyes travel down to his somewhat empty glass, “you want another?”

Your kindness was obvious, but no one that kind is ever really okay. There was something off about you, something deep down was bothering you or maybe you just had some other problem he couldn't figure out. You're kind but in a calming way, not overwhelming. What's the word? Tranquil? That's what he thought of you.

You knew Logan wasn’t human when you first met him. He looked human just like a majority of the rest of the mutants but you had a keen eye for finding them. It was a talent to some people, being able to point out who was ‘real’ and who was not. Logan was no exception, you could practically see that mutant blood underneath his thick skin as if you had x-ray vision.

A human trying to befriend a mutant, what an odd thing to most of the world. You should be scared of him. People would say, many warning you to beware the mutants, stay away from the entities wearing human skin. He's only going to hurt you, stay away from him.

Logan wasn’t an entity, he had a human heart just like the rest of them. But to you, he was a little more human than the others. To you, he looked like a winter flower, strong and capable of handling whatever comes its way, but flowers don't bloom in winter. He was too good to be true.

You don’t really remember the details of how you met Logan (besides making small talk that first time), but what always stays in your head is what happened a few months later upon meeting him.

There was a little dispute in the parking lot of your job. Being a dancer doesn't mean you do all the hard work at your job, that's up to the servers and bartenders. But of course you were always the one to go clean up after people. Your coworkers assigned you the role after you broke up a bar fight on your first night, so all the dirty work (dealing with rude customers or fights in and out of the bar) was left up to you.

Kill them with kindness is an extremely real and full proof method, people find your kindness a little off putting (though you are unsure why). You don’t know what the guys were fighting about but it got messy quickly, they both started swinging at each other and when you tried to split it up suddenly you were the problem.

Pushing you up against the car, threatening you instead of each other. Your coworkers who were once watching from afar were now safely back inside. You braced yourself for some hits, maybe you would get a cool scar out of the situation, a story to tell to your future children (if you even had any). But all that confidence from before was dropped as soon as the guy got on his knees, grabbing your injured face as you leaned lethargically against the car, making you look at him.

Your bare legs hurt on the asphalt, rocks digging into the softness of your skin, leaving marks. He held a knife up to your ribs, pressing and pressing until you felt a sharpness, the tip of the blade digging into your flesh. The other guy had run off, probably took his chance and instead let you take the beatings.

You remember him getting ready to stand up, his face getting closer to you while he continued to threaten you, that was until he went silent. There was the sound of flesh ripping, or a knife sheathing you weren’t really sure. Blood splatters onto your face, the only thing you could hear was gurgling and a gruesome choking sound from the man. Slowly opening your blurry eyes, the sight in front of you almost made you scream if your throat wasn't so dry.

The man had been silenced, three blades stuck out the front of his face, the tips of them so close to yours you could feel them poking into your skin. A shaky gasp escapes your lips when you see him move, his body lifting up. Standing behind him, the man's blood spilling onto his knuckles, was Logan (Haemanthus, in that moment).

The look of fear on your face was clear in the dark, Logan could see it, hell he could probably smell it. You watch him toss the limp body aside and then he crouches down in front of you. Flinching away, you watch those metal claws slide back into his knuckles, the openings they tear closing almost immediately. Then he cups your face with that same, blood soaked hand, trying to wipe the blood that had splattered onto your face (useless, he was only smearing it).

That was the first time you ever saw Logan use his powers and it was to protect you. What you should’ve done is run, call the cops or something but instead you stayed, you stayed in front of him, letting him pick you up and carry you back into your job.

Humans are curious creatures, thirsting for an explanation of something they don't understand, even if that explanation could kill them. So, after that, you would stay after hours on your job, as long as he was there. After you got done closing you would ask him to show you, show you his claws so you could feel them, look at them. Maybe even worship them if you were that kind of person.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, trailing your fingers up the blades. “When they come out?”

“Every time,” he responds, watching you intently, no one has ever seemed to show this much curiosity over his claws, at least no human has.

“There’s something sort of humbling about them,” you speak slowly, looking at your reflection on the blades, “the fact that you could so easily kill me, kill anyone, yet you choose not to.”

Your fingers trail back down the blades until you stop at his wrist, wrapping your hand around it to feel them when they return into his body. You could feel his muscles move every time his bones shift to allow the metal to escape the cavity of his arm. His eyes stay locked on your face, watching every tiny change in expression.

“Are you scared?” he asks, voice low but there's genuine curiosity in the gentle cadence of his voice.

Your eyes meet his. “You could never scare me.”

It was hard to say whether you really liked Logan after what happened, a part of you knows what he did was illegal, but he did it to protect you, maybe you could rule it out as self defense if the cops come searching. You took an interest in him honestly, this was your first time getting to know a mutant, your first time being saved by one too.

But there was a part of you that wanted to protect him, keep him safe and out of harm from humans and mutants alike. Logan is stubborn but not as stubborn as you. You would do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant risking your own life, although he argues that you shouldn't do anything like that for him. Humans are much more fragile, at least that's what he would say to you. He compared you to a flower, prone to breaking, prone to destruction. He feared that he wouldn't be able to keep you safe.

It's strange, just a few months into this little friendship and you already feel this instinct to take care of him, to nurture him, treat him like he's the most perfect piece of art in the whole world, and also the most breakable. Like he's the most precious, rarest flower you’ve ever seen. The type that you discovered, not some random traveler. Even a few months in he allows you to meet all the other mutants, the ones he calls his family. You hit it off with Storm pretty quick, she knew how to be your voice of reason, your help when it comes to figuring out your feelings for Logan.

You also enjoyed staying at the mansion, being able to interact with all the students. This place was wonderful to you, but you didn't like having to stay behind when Logan went on missions.

Every time you watch him walk out that door you feel like you're left with nothing but desperation, the desire, the need to go with him. All you want to do is help him. But you were also left with fear, strangely enough. No matter how many times he came back, everytime he left it felt like he was never gonna come back. They’re just missions, he’ll be back soon. That's what you always told yourself.

You don't know why you cared so much, you two weren't even dating. But you don't really know what to call the relationship you two had, you were much closer than just regular friends. Yearning was never your thing until you met him. Usually you try to avoid relationships, your fears always making it hard for you to stay with someone.

I wanna be a part of you.

You would tell him. Always touching him, that was your thing. He liked that about you, that you felt safe around him, comfortable enough to always be touching him, a hand constantly on his shoulder or fingers wrapped around his wrist. It was something you did every time you were with him, even if you were safe from harm.

His most favorite thing was that scent of yours, it drove him crazy in all the good ways. He could tell when you had just been in a room and he could follow your scent out of that room if he so pleased. He remembers the first time Charles talked about you after you had left the room just a few minutes before he arrived.

“She's quite a unique one,” he says, watching Logan adjust to your scent filling the room, “isn't scared of mutants, believes we are all equal. I'm glad you found her, Logan.”

“Yeah well, I knew she’d be good here,” Logan responds, leaning against the wall. Charles is quiet, but there's a growing smirk on his face. “What?” he asks a bit harshly.

“You like her,” Charles says, “I don't have to read your mind to tell.”

“Yeah well a mutant and a human won't really work out, so forget it,” Logan grumbles, pushing through the doors and leaving the room before Charles could protest.

The dynamic was weird (for a pair that wasn't dating), but considerably normal to the other mutants. Many seek him out for protection too, he's just the type of guy you gravitate to, despite that grumpy face and angry attitude. You know that's not who he is on the inside, he's much more gentle than what others seem to think about him (Hibiscus, a delicate beauty, Gypsophilia, pure of heart).

When Logan was out on missions, you would spend your time distracting yourself with flower hunting or spending money on bouquets just to make you happy. You would leave them around the mansion, around your work.

You love seeing him in the audience when he returns, usually sitting at the bar. He leans against it, facing the stage, eyes only on you (Sweet daffodil, you're my only one. The sun shines when I'm with you). When you were done for the night you would run to him, wrapping your arms around him, finding so much comfort in those large arms.

You imagine Logan would be a kind lover, gentle and caring. The type to freak out if he accidentally hurt you. The type to sit you on his lap during dinner even if there was a chair for you. You know he would take care of you, he's said it a million times before.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says softly one night after you get off work. You're standing behind the bar, watching him drink the last of the whiskey.

“You can't be near me all the time,” you hum, teasingly, unaware of his seriousness. You figured it was just him being a little flirty.

“I can if I want to,” he responds, his smile often a little rare to see but present in this moment.

He made it very hard for you to try and hide your flusteredness. Logan can be very flirty, more unintentionally than not. In all honesty, maybe you did want him, wanted to be with him. For once you can see a future with someone, something rare for you (usually trying not to look ahead). You could see the future where you live in a cabin with him, somewhere in the woods, probably in Canada or somewhere cold. He would get a normal job, you would make him breakfast and then kiss him goodbye before heading to your own job. Maybe it was a sad, pathetic thing to think about at night but you couldn't help yourself, it was the life you always wanted and you finally found someone to have that life with.

The day you really realized it, was when he came back from a longer mission, longer than usual. For once you didn't work that week, taking a break to give the new dancer a chance to earn some money. You spent that week cleaning your place, organizing, doing the things you didn't usually have time for. That's when you received a call from the mansion, Ororo had called you, letting you know Logan was back.

You’ve never driven so fast in your life, that long trip turns into a few quick minutes. The snow didn't stop you, instead it only made your adrenaline spike, your excitement. You practically slipped when you got out of the car, running to the front door of the mansion.

When it opened to his handsome face you felt a tingle in your spine, electricity coursing through your veins. He starts to walk forward, snow starting to stick to his dark hair, his arms open waiting to catch you.

In that moment, when you ran into his arms, feeling them wrap around you again and cover you in that familiar warmth, that familiar scent, you felt something more. More than fasciation, more than adoration, you felt love (A blooming orchid).

“Miss me?” he asks with a smile when you pull away, your arms still wrapped around his neck. He sets you carefully back down on your feet.

“Always,” you breathe, tears pricking at your eyes. You don't know why you felt like crying, you blamed it on the fact of how much you missed him, or maybe you were just incredibly overwhelmed.

You knew the problems with wanting to be with Logan. The major one you realized while rewatching Twilight (Ironic given your situation, Edward a vampire, Bella a human. You a human, Logan a mutant). Logan is practically immortal, honestly you don’t even know how old he is now. You’ll grow old, eventually succumb to your age or maybe even a sickness if you're lucky. Logan will still be living, just older, a little more grumpy.

You’ll wilt, all flowers die. But he’ll bloom again.

But unlike Twilight, you won’t get your happy ending. Logan can’t bite you and turn you into a mutant like Edward does with Bella. His fangs are dulled, they don’t secrete any special type of life changing liquid.

Unfortunately you’ll be human forever. What a curse it is to be human or to be living at all.

…

The first time you and Logan kissed was outside his place, surrounded by nothing but trees, fresh snow falling to the ground and sticking to your hair. You had embarrassingly fallen on your ass walking up to his house, he quickly rushed out to help you up, dusting you off and asking if you were okay. But when he picked you up you never let go, keeping your arms wrapped around his neck while he held you on your own two feet. There was that buzz in the air, the flutter right before a kiss, that tingly feeling in your spine knowing it’s going to happen.

And when his lips graze over yours you practically shove his head down to kiss him, pressing your lips against his without even considering the situation. To your surprise, he kisses you back, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter and lifting you up so your legs wrap around his waist.

It was like something out of a movie, just missing a mushy love song. You wished you could hold that kiss forever but your lips would get sore and you would probably get frostbite.

When you pulled away he stared at you, eyes piercing into yours before he freed one of his hands. His fingers curl around the chain of his dog tags, and then he pulls them up and over his head.

Then he puts them around your neck, the jingle of them coming to rest on your collar bones makes you shudder, but from warmth, excitement.

You hide them under your shirt most of the time, always toying with them to make sure they are still safely around your neck. It’s like he transported his warmth with them because they were always warm no matter how cold it was outside.

Sometimes, if you see him before he leaves somewhere, he’d press a hand to where they hang, rough palm warm against your chest. It was like his little special way of saying goodbye, just in case he didn’t return (which you hated to think about).

Logan eventually gave you the spare key to his place, allowing you to visit whenever you so pleased. And when he was gone sometimes you would curl up in his bed, inhaling his scent and usually getting the best sleep of your life. His scent brought you comfort, you always wanted to be surrounded by it, drowning in it.

On occasion but rarely, he would come home to you still in his bed, buried under the covers and sleeping soundly. He’d pull the blanket back gently to see your face, sit down on the edge of the bed and stare at you while he waited for you to wake up.

But usually you would be gone, his bed would be empty but he would always know you were there. Your scent would seep into sheets, the mattress drinking up your smell. He could smell you, like you were still present (Soft jasmine, beautiful wisteria).

Now the first time you two ever slept together was at his place of course, you were slumped from work, muscles aching, head throbbing. You’ve never been this tired before. You push through the door, unlocked as usual when he’s home. He’s already in bed when you're there, awake but he looks just as tired as you. He sits up when he sees you, turning on the lamp so you can see. You don't even say anything, instead you just drop your things by the doorway, tugging your shirt off over your head letting it pool on the ground.

He doesn’t seem to care, instead he just watches you as you curl into bed next to him. “Rough day?” He asks a few moments later, turning the lamp off.

“Don’t even get me started,” you mumble back, voice muffled by his pillow. You can already feel yourself relaxing, his scent like a calming drug (the smell of peaceful lavender).

He doesn’t hesitate, he turns to his side, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. You let out a sigh, melting into his warmth. It started out as a normal night, sleep coming to you quickly. But it wasn’t until you felt Logan stirr, moving a little in his sleep. He lets out a quiet grumble, and then a louder one.

Then you feel a sharp pain, agonizing, stinging, right in the back of your shoulder. You let out a yelp, jolting up, your movements pulling whatever it was out of your flesh. You look back, reaching a shaking hand back to feel the wounds. “Damn,” you groan when you see blood on your hand, Logan’s claws unsheathed, the tips covered in your blood. You can feel the warmth travel down your back, the sight of the blood trickling down your back and staining the sheets makes you feel dizzy.

Logan stirrs again, sniffing the air, eyes fluttering open at the scent of your blood. He acts as soon as his eyes land on your back, fear and worry clouding his head. “Fuck,” he curses, “fuck, fuck.”

“I’m okay, I’m fine.” You breathe through clenched teeth, getting up to go to the bathroom. He quickly picks you up, carrying you to the bathroom. He sets you on the bathroom sink, maneuvering around you so he could clean your wounds. You open your eyes, staring at his face. He’s focused, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted as he continues to wipe the blood from your open wounds before finally getting them to stop bleeding. You watch as he slowly starts to wrap you up with the gauze and bandages.

You reach up, softly cupping his face with your free hand, making him halt his actions. His eyes meet yours, your reflection so visible in his pupils. Unsure of how long you stared into his eyes, he had somehow finished wrapping you up without taking his eyes off you. You could feel yourself inching closer, getting closer and closer to his face until you can feel his breath. His lips graze over yours and you flinch back, as if you haven’t kissed him before. It’s been a few months come to think of it, but still you shouldn’t be nervous.

Logan just has that effect on you. It only takes a few seconds until your lips meet, kissing him gently, your fingers finding their way to the nape of his neck. Fingertips brush the shore of his hair, almost like an invitation.

And he takes it, kissing you with a little more vigor. His bloodied hand comes up to your face, smearing a little bit of your blood on your cheek. He’s careful with his movements, gripping your waist with his other hand to keep you up on the sink, to steady you. His kisses are starting to get more aggressive, pressing you a bit further back onto the sink.To make sure you don’t slip in, he reaches underneath you, his large hand coming to rest on your ass as he holds you still.

You can feel that familiar heat start to pool between your thighs, and he can feel it too, or in other words smell it. Your legs clench around him, squeezing as if you're trying to pull him into you. He frees his hand from underneath you, feeling up the bare skin of your waist, his rough fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours while he stares down at your semi-bare body, debating on unclipping your bra to feel you more. His breathing is rushed but even, mouth open.

“Logan,” you breathe, coming out more as a desperate plea. He hums, pressing your lips together again, open mouth kisses, tilting his head for better movement and access. There’s a thin string of saliva that keeps your mouths connected when he pulls away.

He can see it in your eyes, the desperation, not only that but he could smell it too. Your scent was strong, if he got closer to your core it would be overwhelming, and he's not sure he’d be able to stop what he's started.. “You’re hurt,” he says quietly, “I don’t wanna hurt you anymore than you already are,.”

“You won’t,” you respond, a smile on your kiss bitten lips, “Logan, please.” He kisses you again, slower and softer this time. “I can't,” he whispers against your lips, keeping them close even after pulling away again.

“Why not?” you speak softly, scratching his scalp with your nails. He hesitates, his thumb rubbing your cheek. “You know why.” He smiles, gentle and small before licking his thumb and wiping the small amount of blood off your face. “C’mon,” he mutters, lifting you off the sink.

…

Logan gave you all kinds of nicknames but your most favorite came from you showing up to his place with flowers. You loved orchids, always have so you bought a small bouquet of them to put on his coffee table. He accepted gracefully, and then from then on he started calling you by that name. A simple nickname but it was lovely.

Orchid, my little orchid. A nickname uniquely your own (Orchids, love, beauty).

It wasn’t long before you two had officially agreed to being in a relationship, having a label. And not long after that you decided to move in with him, a bold move but you spend more time at his place than yours anyways. At night the moon will shine through the windows, lighting up the room with its cool toned glow. You’ll lay your head on Logan’s shoulder, your hand resting on his chest. You’ll both lie awake in silence while you draw circles on his chest with your finger.

Some nights you’ll sit on his lap while his back rests against the headboard, your hands cupping his face. On occasion, you’ll run your thumb over his bottom lip until he parts them for you, then you’ll feel his abnormally sharp canines, his fangs. You test them, pressing the pad of your thumb into the sharp point to see if it’ll make you bleed but he always stops you before you ever do. When you're asleep he’ll stare at your face till morning, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek. He stares at his dog tags around your neck, always warm from your body heat and always safe.

He admires your beauty, especially when the sunlight hits you just right. When you're hiking in that tank top and whatever pants you decided to wear that day, he stares at your backside, your silhouetted figure. And when you bend over to tie your shoe, looking back at him with a smile, his eyes not only fixate on your face, but your scars. The scars he left engraved on your skin.

The scars you admired, the scars that comfort you, a reminder of him always.

It’s past 11 pm, you’ve been in the bath for almost an hour now, the water starting to get cold. The room is dark, only lightened by the light seeping through the open bathroom door. You lean back, head resting on the edge of the tub, fingers toying with Logan’s dog tags.

The familiar sound of the front door opening echoes through the silent bathroom, Logan's heavy footsteps can be heard walking around, like he's looking for you. You slide down further into the bath, trying to hide yourself playfully, peaking over the edge while you wait for him. That's when he peeks into the bathroom, a smile creeps over his face when he sees you.

“Hi, gorgeous.” he says in that comforting gruff voice. He crouches down by the side of the tub, dipping his hand into the warm water. “Hi.” You smile, sitting up and resting your head on your hands, holding onto the edge of the tub. He brings a hand up to caress your face, gently rubbing the warm skin of your cheek.

“What did you do today?” you ask, watching him reach for the loofa and dip it in the water. He grabs your arm gently, rubbing your skin softly with the item. “The usual,” he responds, staring at the suds on your skin while they wash away. You hum, sitting back in the tub again, making him let go of you and get further. “C’mere,” you beckon, tapping the edge of the bathtub. He complies, getting up and sitting down on the edge. He leans down so he could be close to your face.

“I was thinking about you today,” he says softly, cupping your face, “I always am.” Smiling a little wider, you reach up with both hands, grabbing his face and pulling him down to kiss him. He kisses you back, much to your pleasure. You're quick to part your lips, giving him access to use his tongue.

It's an aggressive kiss, open mouthed and borderline messy. He pulls away to say something but you block it out, too focused on the feeling of his lips to even notice. You try to pull him back down and you successfully do, he doesn't put up a fight or anything. The kiss becomes more vigorous, more violent but so passionate.

He slips, falling into the tub fully clothed, making the water rise and spill out over the sides. You laugh softly in which he responds with a small laugh too. He’s laying on your side, face inches away from you and just a little lower as he allows himself to slip into the bath more comfortably. Your lips graze over his again, his smile fades as he kisses you and then pulls away.

You adjust your trapped arm behind his head, scratching his scalp as he gets closer and closer. Then he kisses you again, leaning his whole body forward and cupping your face with a wet hand once again. You close your eyes, but he opens his just slightly while his lips slowly slot against yours. Open mouth on open mouth, his lips never leaving yours. The only noise that fills the space is the quiet sound of water sloshing, soft breaths from the both of you while you kiss until practically sucking the oxygen from each other.

Pressing his lips against yours a little rougher now, he eases on top of you. Your hands travel up and down his flanks and back, feeling him through his soaked clothes tight against his skin until you tug and pull at the bottom of his shirt. He sits back, breaking the kiss for once and taking his shirt off, immediately returning to your lips. A gasp escapes your mouth when you feel him press his hips against yours, his cock clearly wanting to be freed from the prison of his jeans. He can smell your arousal, your need for him. His lips move down your jaw and to your neck, kissing at the supple area while he struggles to grind against you. His fangs graze over your skin, making your body shudder at the feeling.

Water spills out the tub with every erratic movement, but you can feel the warmth returning. He uses his other hand to hold the dip in your spine, making your back arch by habit, by command almost. Your eyes go all hazy and the more he presses his bare skin into yours you swear you feel like you're melting into his body.

“I love you,” he whispers, into your neck.

…

You loved flowers, always have. You loved what they represent depending on what type they were, you loved how colorful they usually work, how unique they are. You loved how they bloom again even after death, even after they've wilted and lost all their color. The petals turned into something wrinkled and rough, unlike their usual clear, softness.

Even after they die, they still bloom again in springtime. Daisy, lavender, day lily, aster, they all bloom again. Flowers don’t mourn the dead, they respect it, embrace it. They become one with the dead, seeping into the ground and back into the earth in which a person is buried.

To him, you were a flower. Delicate and soft, something he wanted to protect, to see everyday. Your color, he couldn't quite describe it but it was uniquely your own. Over 10 million colors and somehow when he sees you and it's something separate from the million to choose from. When he thinks of you, that's the color he sees. When he thinks of you, he sees an orchid.

But is a flower still a flower after all its petals have been ripped off, gored and left to rot and wilt on the ground. Is a flower still a flower after it's been torn out of the ground, roots ripped, its purpose gone?

You think of all the times you’ve woken up beside him, smiling when he opens his eyes, murmuring a soft “good morning” as he reaches up to touch your face. You remember the times where he would soothe you on your tough days, running a bath for you and gently rubbing the loofa on your skin. So many good moments, very few bad ones.

Words of affirmation weren't your love language, at least not usually. But Logan had another super power, and it was exactly that. He knew what to say and how to say it at all the right moments. He was a generous lover, attentive, caring, when you were with him you felt like yourself.

“Winter came early this year,” you hum, clutching the white orchids in your gloved hands, “my first one without you.”

“I keep buying orchids for you, whenever I have the time. But even when I don’t you're always on my mind.”

You go silent, tears starting to bubble up in your eyes. “I just- I-” you stutter, voice breaking as you grip the flowers a little tighter. You fall to your knees, snow wetting your pants while your tears run down your face. Your sobs slowly pick up in volume every time you try to speak, only to get choked up and give up. “I just wanna see you,” you sob, pressing your face into the snow below, “I just want to see you.”

You drag yourself further up the ground until you're met with the headstone, Logan’s name engraved on it, freezing to the touch. You press the flowers into the snow, laying down on top of them while your hands move to clutch his dog tags tightly around your neck. The snow and soil drink up your tears, and you can only hope they reach him.

He was a flower, a dangerous one on the outside but oh so beautiful on the inside. But you seemed to forget one thing.

Flowers don't bloom in winter.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

I don't know flowers that well so forgive me flower fans ahaha

#⋆｡𖦹°‧ukume!#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine x you #wolverine #logan howlett x you

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asahicore · 10 months ago

Text

falling asleep with treasure !!

pairing. bf!treasure x reader genre. established relationship, fluff <//3 and crack (??) word count. 1.7k author's note. this has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for so long omg.. thank u to that one anon for remembering it existed and sending me an ask about it lmao! i had gotten this idea randomly thinking about clingy junkyu and then boom... this mess of a reaction slash headcanon slash idk thing came to life. hope u enjoy! it was also an excuse to use those photos of doyoung cz hes so cutie pie in them

fall asleep cuddling, drift apart while sleeping, wake up, notice you’re not cuddling, start cuddling again, and repeat - hyunsuk

hyunsuk gives off healthy mature long-term relationship vibes to me okay. i feel like a lot of couples that have been together for a while end up not cuddling while sleeping but rather get into their own comfortable sleeping positions, and then throughout the night, even though you’re so sleepy you’re barely conscious, when you realize that you’re not cuddling, you scooch back into each other’s arms. he always hits snooze on the alarm at least once in the morning just to get ten extra minutes of being with you before having to get up.

you both wake up stinky and sweaty every single time - jihoon

and it's because the two of you fall asleep in your cuddling position (usually you as the little spoon or resting your head on his chest, but you force him to let you spoon him sometimes), and then you don't. move. not an inch. if it gets too hot, one of you throws the blankets away, or gets rid of their pajama pants, or regains enough consciousness during the night to turn the fan on, but under no circumstances will you break away from your cuddling position - unless it is to get into another cuddling position, of course. it's quite nice, but it means that morning showers are obligatory, because you both smell atrocious after a night of being stuck to each other like glue on paper.

you’re not his partner, you’re his personal pillow - yoshi

you know those anime body pillows? yup. that's what you become when yoshi wants to cuddle. he gives me major cuddler vibes, so you’ll have tried every position in the book, but his favorite is definitely the one where he gets to use to your chest as a pillow and you graze your fingernails against his scalp. he’s got a leg hiked up over your hips and has his arms circling your waist and holding you tight. you can’t move. nothing will have him falling asleep as fast as that. your voice is like a lullaby to him, so he especially likes it if you talk to him in a low voice while he drifts off to sleep. he’s so happy he could fall asleep with a smile on his face. he’s so cute i’m going to off myself

you can’t escape the death hold he has on you - junkyu

a big portion of your time hanging out with junkyu is spent napping. something that surprises you every time is how even though he isn’t the touchiest of boyfriends, if you fall asleep cuddling, you literally cannot move unless you wake him up and make him let you go. forget going to the toilet when you wake up in the morning or getting a snack during your afternoon nap: if junkyu has you in his grip, you cannot escape. he doesn’t even seem to notice: he just wakes up with an innocent smile on his face, saying “oh, you’re awake, y/n?” even though you’ve been trying to discreetly untangle yourself from him for the past thirty minutes.

*cutely drools on you* - jaehyuk

now i could NOT tell you why but jaehyuk gives me like… snorer and drooler vibes 😭 but like in a cute way okay… once he falls asleep he’s just out like a light, he can’t help it. he’s like those cartoon characters that sleep with their mouths wide open and there’s a bit of saliva at the corner of their lips. and they’re very light snores that are fun to record and embarrass him with. if you didn’t love him so much, it might give you the ick. but anyways, in terms of cuddling i see him as a mix of everyone above in a way; he loves both holding you close to him and being in your arms, he loves both rubbing your back or you playing with his hair, he loves falling asleep while cuddling but he’s also happy if you need more space and just have, like, your feet or hands touching. as long as you’re next to him he knows he’ll sleep well <3

wakes up every time you so much as move a finger - asahi

any asahi lore expert such as myself will know that asahi is a very light sleeper. i think for him cuddling is more of an activity than a way of falling asleep if that makes sense? like he’ll do it when you’re watching something, or when you’re talking and want to be physically close at the same time, but he just can’t fall asleep while cuddling. he also sweats easily, so the added warmth would just make it not fun for him 😭he’d do it for you if you really wanted it, but he’d rather just hold hands while sleeping or something like that. you’d also feel sorry for him with how often he woke up during the night, even if it was just for a few seconds, everytime you moved around too noisily or snored. he also always wakes up before you, and you’d need to have a conversation with him about how you’d rather wake up with him next to you rather than wake up without him, only to find him in the kitchen making breakfast for you :( he just wants to do something nice for him, but you’d rather be able to kiss him first thing in the morning!!!! sorry my bias is showing a bit

watches you while you sleep for so long it becomes creepy - doyoung

oh this boy 😭 if he falls asleep after you or wakes up before you, you just know he's going to be propping himself up on his elbow, gazing down at you with soft eyes and a fond smile because you're just the prettiest person in the world to him, and there's nothing else he'd rather be looking at. and he isn’t rattled in the slightest if you catch him doing it, too. he'll just smile wider and say "hey, baby" or "sleep well?", that fucker. it's lowkey creepy, but it's doyoung, so it's okay. it’s a bit jarring at first, locking eyes with someone right when you wake up, but you get used to it. i see him as similar to jaehyuk in the sense that he’s happy to fall asleep, cuddling or not cuddling, in whatever way you prefer. he’d probably like to fall asleep facing you so that he could see your face right as he woke up (in a lovely, enamored way, not in a creepy way!) 👍

keeps you from falling asleep but grumpy when you try to wake him up - jeongwoo

jeongwoo seriously gives me tired all day until it's time to go to bed vibes, like he'll usually be chill with bursts of energy here and there but in the evening he's like a cat with the zoomies. it's like 11pm and you're just trying to fall asleep because you have class or work the next day but your boyfriend is bouncing all over the room and talking a hundred words a minute, keeping you awake way past your bedtime. it's kinda cute sometimes, but most of the time, you want to suffocate him with your pillow. usually, though, he'll calm down if he sees you're really tired, or if you force him to stay in your arms and start threading your hands through his hair or rub patterns against his back - that really calms him down. he becomes super quiet instantly and can even fall asleep like that. but dear lord, when that alarm rings the next morning, you do not want to talk to him for the following fifteen minutes. he is so grumpy and sleepy in the morning, i just know. it's impossible to get him out of bed and you've just learnt to get up yourself and wait for him to wake up - although it's better to check that he hasn't fallen back asleep (which he usually has). he just keeps groaning for five more minutes and buries his head in his pillow to block the light out, but if you press a kiss to his cheek or forehead, that usually gets him to open his eyes and start smiling, then ask for a proper good morning kiss on the lips. this kid is annoying as hell, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

forgets his size and rests his whole body on you - haruto

haruto is like those big dogs that have no idea they're so big and wonder why they can't just lay on top of you. “it's because you're suffocating me, ruto! you're too heavy to rest your whole weight on me.” when you'd told him that, he pouted so hard and had seemed so genuinely upset that you apologized, took him back in your arms and simply neglected your need to breathe for a little longer. he is also one hundred percent that guy who will deny wanting cuddles or any sort of skinship, but if you don’t give it to him, he will be mad at you. if you do give it to him, he’ll pretend he doesn’t like it. you just have to be a mind reader, i guess. all this to say that even if he doesn’t tell you outright, haruto definitely wants to cuddle to sleep. sure, you can fall asleep in his arms if you really want (he loves it), but he’d rather fall asleep on you like yoshi does, even though he’s way too heavy for that.

you fight every time you have to decide who gets to be the little spoon - junghwan

my son.. do you guys know that “thank you myson!” jimin meme… anyways… junghwan might have buffed up over the years but do not get him wrong, that man is a little spoon until the day he dies. if you are also the little spoon, you will have to fight. simple as that. you can decide if it’ll be a tickle fight, an argument where you try to prove why you defend to be the little spoon more, or an actual fist fight (you might lose though), you’ll have to settle it one way or another. no matter how much both of you try to deny it, you love it either way anyway. as much as you love the feeling of his arms around you, there’s something about holding such a big man in your arms like he’s half the size that he is.

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 @baekhyuns-lipchain @hyuckslvr @vernonburger @amorbonbon @fluerz @bucketofhiros (ask to be removed/added!)

treasure taglist: @mosviqu @nunoozi

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alistairsmonstercafe · 10 months ago

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NSFW How to keep your werewolf happy Guide 01

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART ?

NOTICE; TOP/DOM Male Hybrid Reader

CHARACTER; Sub/Bottom Soap

CW; Scent Kink, cock warming, face fucking.

ADDITIONAL; I don't mind Fem/Fem aligned readers reading but don't feel insulted/complain that I strictly don't do Fem reader, not my cuppa tea mate.

INSPIRATION; @/Bluegiragi Monster AU on Twt and Tumblr

NOTE; This will be a mini series staring our favorite little hybrids. Part ? Will be a poll of a repeat character or a non 141 character.

It isn't a surprise as your working away at your office, hands slow yet steady as you finish off writing the recent report about Captain Price's mission hours prior. You helped out this way when you weren't needed for a mission or on heat/rut leave. In this case, there was simply no need today. And you were fine with that. You could easily relax to the sound of nothing but yourself.

Well. That's what it was before. Usually, you're quite familiar with who's outside your door, with how specific everyone is in their own knocks, Gaz and his light yet solid knocks, Price and his rougher yet slowed pace knocks, and Ghost, who of course, doesn't always give the courtesy of knocking, only knowing it bugs you, after all.

But It was was when a sudden knock and a quick opening that left you rather less time to say 'come in' and more confusion as who the fuck could be disturbing you so suddenly. Sour words lay on your tongue until you saw your mate. Soap looked tired and seemingly agitated as he walked over, his eyes not bothering to look at you as he moved you and your chair and found himself slumped to his knees beneath the desk. His face by your belt, his tail seeming limp.

"Soap? What happened out there?" You ask, your voice laced with mild concern. It's rare to see him all beat up like this, his tail left with weak attempts at a wag and his ears folded back, and your eyes soften. "Soap, pup, speak to me." You coo softly as your hand cups his chin. He looks up at you, his eyes gentle, and he nuzzles into it. "M'rough day ou' in tha field." Is all he speaks out. It seems the day weighing on his shoulders. "M'don wanna think." He whispers, and you know what to do.

You allow yourself out of your belt, the sound leaves Soap perking up slightly and watching, his eyes looking down at your cock. And soon enough, you're somewhat out of your boxers, and Soap looks up as if awaiting an okay to his favorite treat. "Go ahead." You murmur, stroking a hand through his hair, and he happily goes down on you, sloppy wet tongue sliding up and down your cock, moaning at how it makes his mind all fuzzy and soft with no thought in mind.

Your touches begin soft, caring and loving as you whisper praise. It's only soon enough that you begin fucking his face, guiding his head up and down it with your hand as you grunt out. And Soap has no complaints as you do, sucking away eagerly as drool slips down his reddened lips.

The smell of your musk from previous training earlier drives him mad, eyes eagerly looking up at you for your approval, as his tail wacks the inside of the desk with each wag. His mouth stuffed full of the cock he loves so much.

He was quick to move his mouth up and down, tongue lapping at it as if you were the sweetest treat.

Constantly looking up to you for praise or your loving eyes, and a rumbling purr each time you caressed his hair, the scratch behind his ear making him melt.

Panting as he pulls off and a string of drool and whatnot is left, he looks up and smiles in baited breath. The little spot in his cargo pants dripping cum is enough to tell you, you've done a good job.

"M'gonna cum pup, you ready?" You ask of him in deep pants, and he nods quickly, moving his pace right down to the base of your cock, his hands fondling your balls a little as he tries to chase your sweet release. And with each push of your hand on his head, he remains at the base of your cock until you've finished, his mouth stays on until he swallowed it all.

He looks up at you, his breathing a little heavy as his lips were still wrapped around your cock.

But, reports are still reports. So you offer Soap to cock warm you for the remainder of the afternoon. And that's something Soap is sure to agree too.

Aftermath;

Price is quick to not open the door at a mere wiff of passing by your office. But he isn't denying that he's had a thought of doing so..

#john soap mactavish #cod #cod mw2 #soap x reader #male reader #soap x male reader #werewolf soap #alistair writes ☕️#top reader #dom reader #sub soap

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shiftingdiariesofophelia · 1 year ago

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i spend so much energy trying to make/find fun creative things to add to my scripts and i’m not gonna gatekeep, so here’s some of the funniest/weirdest/lowkey best things i’ve added to any of my scripts (that I haven’t talked much about before):

-I can always find things I need.

-Santa is real

-People just??? trust me??? I could genuinely tell someone that world war two was between the australians and canadians and they’d just be like yeah that checks out

-I don’t have allergies bc i hate sneezing

-Every pair of shoes I own are comfy as hell

-My hair can’t get knotted/tangled

-no periods because f that for real

-I always win/I’m naturally good at card and board games.

-Babies/Animals like me and will stop crying/whining/etc. when i’m around.

-cigarettes taste good and aren’t bad for you. i wanna be lana del rey coded so bad i guess

-i will literally never be in a situation where i have to kill someone. (useful for more dangerous drs!!!)

-random beef with the funniest character imaginable. hp dr? me and susan bones are arch enemies. fame dr? me and pete davidson indirect tweet each other all the time complaining. avengers dr? me and the ancient one are fist fighting in the mirror dimension idc

-indestructible things. i am clumsy and stupid i need this in every dr.

-pages don’t rip out of notebooks on accident (this has been the bane of my existence since 9 years old)

-I always have a hair tie when i need one. because you think you won’t need one, and then the second you don’t have it, you need it.

-people don’t smell. lifesaver.

-*random character* knows i shifted but can’t do a goddamn thing about it/doesn’t care and just goes with it. my favorite examples are Shane Dawson (fame dr) and Professor Trelawny (HP dr)

-i can’t get hurt in stupid ways (stubbing toe, tripping, etc.)

-if someone tries to shoot me the gun will literally fly out of their hand lmao (again, useful for dangerous drs)

-i know everyone’s phone passwords

-infinite toilet paper (for dystopia/woods/etc. drs, but could just be useful every day tbh.)

-i’ve always got some kind of out of pocket one liner for when the situation is too awkward

-tattoos don’t hurt (i am a pussy)

-adding random side characters/completely new mfers to my scripts because if i’m constantly around these fine ass bitches i know everything about i might actually have a heart attack

-when someone’s mean to me they get some form of karma in the next 24 hours directly related to how mean they were. call me stupid? enjoy tripping up the stairs. push me over? i hope you enjoy biting into a sandwich only to find the bread is moldy.

there’s probably more but this is just a short list of the first ones i could think of

#shifting #reality shifting #shifttok #shiftblr #desired reality #ophie speaks #current reality #hp shifting #harry potter dr #shut up ophie

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chaos-in-deepspace · 27 days ago

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LADS Xavier: The Experiment | NSFW

I'd like to start this by saying...this fic ain't for everyone. It has pussy Xavier in it, something I adore because he'd be so cute with one. If you don't like that concept, don't read this. Never forget: If something doesn't appeal to you, then it wasn't made with you in mind. This is for all the homies that want to eat out their boyfriend Xavier.

❧ Pairings Xavier x Reader ❧ Warnings: Trans Xavier, Bottom Xavier, Top Reader, Cunnilingus, Face Sitting, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting ❧ Synopsis: It started with an article you had found online about how to make your partner...well squirt. Of course you had to try it out on your boyfriend...but first you needed to wait for him to wake up. ❧ Word Count: 7.2k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

The Experiment

You had been waiting all night for the perfect opportunity to annoy your beloved boyfriend. He had gotten home late from a mission and practically stumbled into bed. It took all you could to coax him to at least shower and clean up before he went to bed, but you had managed. Curled up all night beside him was always nice, but you just couldn't find it in you to fall asleep just yet..

He had practically wrapped his entire body around you all night, his head placed in the back of your neck as he let out gentle snores. It had been sweet for the most part, but the position allowed you to still play on your phone as his arms wrapped around your midsection. You had been doom scrolling the entire time and eventually went back to an article you had seen previously in the day.

You had to literally stop yourself from reading it over and over again, knowing that until Xavier woke up you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. All you had managed to do was make yourself more and more restless. You think you had fallen asleep at around two in the morning, and by the time you woke up you were still being held by Xavier, his grip so tight around you that it would be impossible to go anywhere without prying yourself off of him.

Waiting for him to wake up was always a pain. The man could sleep for days if you let him, and normally you’d be happy to just leave him to his own devices after a long mission, but you were damn impatient. You literally had to work your way out of his arms and it took a solid ten minutes to adjust yourself to get away and crawl out from his grasp. You managed to replace your body with a pillow for him to hug onto, causing you to hold back noises from the adorable nature that was your boyfriend. You did make sure to snap a quick photo though and set it as your new lockscreen wallpaper. You left the room, intent on getting your morning started.

You had been in the kitchen making yourself some coffee when Xavier finally did manage to wake up. The smell of coffee was a gentle wake up call to him as he stumbled out of the room. He rubbed his eyes and let out a yawn as he looked at you with a sleepy smile.

“Good morning…” he murmured out as he settled right next to you.

“And a good morning to you,” you were already pouring him a cup of his favorite brew, “Sleep well?” you managed to ask, smiling as he let out yet another lazy yawn. His voice and eyes were still clouded in sleep as he took the drink from you, sipping on it as he stood in the kitchen.

“I need more…” he finally got out. Sometimes the coffee managed to do the trick in waking him up instantly, but other times it had the opposite effect. The two of you just relaxed in a comfortable silence as the morning rays of sunshine filtered into the kitchen, casting you both in the warm glow. Xavier was the first to finish his drink, sliding his cup into the sink and not bothering to rinse it out, probably deciding it was a problem for Xavier of the future.

You were about to ask him where he was going when he began stumbling out of the kitchen. You had full plans on making some breakfast after the coffee woke you up, but the gentle steps that Xavier took had left you in confusion. It wasn’t often he wouldn’t ask if you were planning on doing something for breakfast. He had barely spoken a handful of words before he left you alone.

Curiously you followed him and, in horror, watched as he crawled right back into bed. You knew that the mission he was on had been tiring, but to just go right back to bed after being awake for ten minutes to drink coffee was a new one even for him.

Still, you had no intention of just letting him fall back asleep. Breakfast could wait until later it seemed as you crawled onto the bed and hovered near him. Your mind went back to what you read and damn you needed to try it out before you lost steam. The image of it was plaguing both your dreams and waking hours and you didn’t want to wait a second more.

You crept closer to him and laid on your stomach until you were facing him. Xavier noticed immediately and slowly opened his eyes as he hadn’t managed to fall asleep just yet. Even in his tired daze he could tell something was on your mind and he was always a good and thoughtful boyfriend who would stay awake reluctantly if you asked him.

He still looked tired as he smiled at you, “Hey, what did you need?” it came out so soft that you almost wanted to cry. He was so adorable, so perfect, so sweet, so gentle…so everything. Xavier could see how you practically melted onto the mattress at just hearing his voice, giggling softly at your demeanor. He knew the effect he had on you, and he would probably never get enough.

Instead of giving him a proper reply you had found yourself leaning over to him, pressing gentle kisses along his cheeks, then trailing down to his jawline and what you could reach on his neck. Your arms were caging him onto the mattress as your lips left featherlike kisses all over his neck. It was nothing salacious, just a gentle moment. Xavier began carding his hands through your hair and humming while appreciating the feeling of you all over him. A small gasp left him as you pulled the top of his shirt to the side so you could nip at his neck, which was arguably one of the most sensitive areas on his body.

As you came back up you pressed a quick kiss to his lips and looked down at him with a smile, “Can I ask you a favor if you’re not too tired?” you said; you hadn’t realized it but you found yourself changing your tone to match his quiet one. He closed his eyes, and for a moment you feared he would just pass out right then and there.

“Anything you need,” he said, eyes still closed as you kissed him again. He smiled against you as he took the hand he originally had in your hair and moved it so he could cup your cheek gently. He ran his tongue along your lower lip, a silent request for more. You easily went with it as you kissed him properly, your lips meeting him in a lazy kiss which was more tongue than anything. He gently prodded his tongue into your mouth causing you to let you a small moan. He was always so good at this and for a moment you almost forgot what you needed from him.

You stayed like that for a while, kissing your boyfriend and listening to gentle noises that escaped the two of you. The wet smacking of your lips seemed to go well with the sounds of birds chirping out on the balcony of the apartment. You could feel his grin against you as you gently bit down on his lip, a small teasing gesture that he seemed to like as he shifted under you on the bed.

When he broke the kiss he looked up at you with those perfect doe eyes that seemed to shine anytime he looked at you. His cheeks were flushed a baby pink and his lips were now wet and kiss swollen. He looked as perfect as ever and you leaned into his touch when his hand caressed your cheek, “Is it one of those kinds of favors?” his voice took on a teasing lithe despite how drowsy he appeared to be.

“You could tell?” you hummed, closing your eyes and basking in the moment.

Xavier’s soft laugh filled your ears as he spoke up, “It’s not hard, all I have to do is look in your eyes and I can tell when you want something more,” it was a fact that he often used to his advantage, even in public situations. You couldn’t count the amount of times you had been at a work function and he took your hand and led you away from the others just to indulge in said look.

“I was wondering,” you went to cup the hand on your cheek and looked at him, “Would it be alright if I tried to make you squirt today?”

The way Xavier’s eyes seemed to widen made you chuckle. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he seemed to process your words, “You want me to…what?” He finally got out, his voice a little hoarser already at just the thought of what you wanted to do to him. He sounded so confused, but in the back of his mind he was thinking of all the things that might have caused you to ask this.

“I want to make you squirt,” you stated, “Want to see if I can do it. I read some articles online and saw a few videos…I think I can do it,” you knew he would give into your whims without much fighting, in the end this arrangement would technically be working more in his favor. He just had to lay there and let you play with him for a bit, and if he managed to squirt then that was awesome, if not at least he would get to cum a few times before going back to sleep.

It was easy to see the cogs in Xavier’s head turning as he thought over the proposal. It wasn’t uncommon for you to switch up who was on top and who bottomed. It was almost like a game at times, and sometimes you both would get to play each role in a single night. This experiment meant he would be bottoming, and at the moment it didn’t seem bad. He was still tired and a bit sore from his mission, so letting you do all the work seemed just fine in his eyes.

“How do you plan to do it?” was the only thing he could say in response. You seemed to light up then went to sit straighter on the bed. Xavier propped himself up on his forearms as he looked at you curiously, almost intrigued by how your entire demeanor shifted at him asking for the game plan. You seemed like a kid who just for a present they had been begging for with how you shuffled excitedly on the mattress, allowing it to dip under the new pressure.

“All my research says multiple orgasms in a short time frame. A few talk about g-spot stimulation as well so we’re gonna play around with it a bit,” you began and Xavier was already feeling himself getting wet at just you saying this. It was normal for you two to make one another cum several times in a single session, but the ‘short timeframe’ wasn’t something you two explored in your relationship just yet.

“Alright, and?” He coaxed and it was clear as day he wanted you to give him every explicit detail. You swore after getting him more into erotic literature he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to hear everything you planned on doing to him. You could turn him on instantly just by whispering in his ear about how you were going to bend him over the couch and fuck him brainless.

You leaned over and licked your lips, “Well first off I want you to sit on my face,” you said, watching as his breath caught in his throat, “I think I can get you to cum at least twice just from that. Then I want you to lay back and let me play with that pretty pussy of yours, maybe get out a toy, or I can just fuck you on my fingers,” your eyes trailed down and you could see how he was squeezing his thighs together now. You had to stop yourself from reaching in your pocket to feel the bullet vibe you had put in the hoodie you had stolen from his wardrobe. You’d be using every device you had to see this man squirting all over the bed.

“If that’s what you want, I won’t say no…” he went to cover his mouth and look away, but your quick hand managed to grab his wrist. He let out a quick gasp as it was pinned next to his head, watching as you hovered over him with a semi-serious expression.

“I do have one condition though,” you said and he looked at you, his lip almost pouting. If he thought he could get away with just giving you a pleading look…well normally he was right. In this situation though, you weren’t about to let him use that cute begging voice of his so he could get out of any ‘condition’ that didn’t seem favorable for him.

“What is it…?” his voice was a breathy whisper as he looked at you with big blue eyes, clearly wanting you to start whatever it is you planned for him. He was already squirming underneath you, and if you didn’t start touching him soon he would probably lose it.

“I don’t want you to hide those pretty noises of yours,” you said, your voice dropping a little bit into a seductive timber, “I want you to be loud enough that we’re getting noise complaints later on, okay?”

His entire face was flushed, but he did manage to nod. You smirked at him and decided that would be enough. There would be plenty of time to have him crying out your name, for now you needed to work on getting him undressed. He had far too many clothes on for your liking and you wanted to press your hands against that smooth skin of his, and feel every muscle tense under your careful touch.

You got up on the bed and wrestled around in your nightstand. You grabbed one of the many towels you kept on hand and unrolled it. Without needing to say anything Xavier adjusted himself to let you lay it down underneath him. While he was going to be sitting on your face for the first half, you’d no doubt be laying him down later. With how wet he got you knew if you didn’t do this then there would be a lot of clean up to do later. As soon as that was all settled you got into a new position so you were hovering over him.

Your hands went to the hem of his briefs, slowly pulling them down and a groan escaped you as you saw the small string of slick that snapped as you pulled them off. He was always so easy to get wet especially when you were taking charge. He was nice and slick for you, and all you had done was kiss him and tell him how you wanted to fuck him.

“So fucking wet already, huh baby boy?” you asked as you tapped his hips so he’d lift them enough and let you glide the offending article of clothing elsewhere. Your hands trailed up to the shirt he had put on before bed. It was a white turtleneck with sleeves going halfway to his palms. It was a gift you had gotten him a few weeks back since it had a little star design on the front of it. It was a little baggy like most of his clothing, and he more often than not opted to wear it to bed instead of outside.

Instead of taking it off you just hiked it up to expose his chest. You couldn’t help yourself as you leaned in, pressing gentle kisses on his chest and blowing cool air onto one of his nipples. You chuckled at hearing the gasp that left him as you pressed a kiss to it before taking it into your mouth. Xavier’s chest was always so damn sensitive it had him moaning in a matter of minutes.

Your hand came up to pinch his other nipple, and he was already trying to grind his hips up into you. You chuckled as you swirl your tongue around him, listening to his cute whimpers as his hand went into your hair, giving it a gentle tug. You let out a groan from the pressure of his hand and he tugged again just to hear more from you.

You popped off of it and ran a finger over the pretty light brown nipple, your thumb pressing down on the now hardened bud. For a brief moment you remembered a trend of people getting their partner’s tip color painted on their nails and you wondered if he’d notice if you got your colored the same tone as his nipples…a thought for another time.

Xavier tried using the grip on your hair to pull back against this chest, but you forced yourself to stay in place, “Xay Xay, I need you to behave,” he let out a whine as he released his grasp of your hair and allowed you to go back to work, doing whatever you wanted to him.

Xavier let out a shuddering moan as he watched you give his other nipple the same treatment, working it until it was a nice, hardened bud under the tip of your tongue. Once you let off you looked at his now glistening chest with a satisfied smirk. His chest heaved with labored breaths as he shuffled under your intense gaze, not knowing where to go or look in the moment.

Your hands were now free to trail over his legs and you looked down at the soft thigh highs he had put on, “By the way, I absolutely adore these,” you said while grabbing the material and pulling on it so you could watch it snap back onto him. The white socks were soft and fuzzy and you knew for a fact the bottoms had little paw prints on them. It had been another gift for your precious boy, anytime you went out and saw something that reminded you of him you had to snag it and see him wearing it.

“You were the one who insisted I wore them last night for bed,” his voice already sounded wrecked and you hadn’t even properly gotten started. His legs shifted as he tried getting them away from your grasp, but your hands were quicker as you held onto his soft, sock clag thighs.

You then opted to lay your head on the soft thigh highs and smiled up at him, “Well ya, I had this planned since yesterday afternoon. I wanted to make sure my ear muffs would be nice and warm…plus I heard wearing socks can make orgasms more intense,”

He bit his lip at the statement, adjusting his legs once more as he tried to get more comfortable on the bed. You leaned into his upper thigh that wasn’t covered by the sock and pressed a kiss on it, and then in a brief moment of need you sucked a harsh mark right onto his thigh. It had him moaning, his thighs trying to close at the sensation, but your hand kept them in place.

You trailed your hand between his legs, feeling his slick pussy on your finger tips. It glided along the lips of it until you found his clit and applied enough pressure that it had him rolling his hips into your touch with a little whine. The small keen he let out along with his attempt at pushing himself closer only solidified how adorable and needy he could be in moments like these. He became so submissive the moment you took on an authoritative tone with him.

“Awe, did you want more?” you asked as you pressed a kiss over the mark you had left on his thigh. He let out another whimper at your comment and you chuckled, “Words, sweetheart, gotta use your words,” the gentle reminder would probably be lost later on. He always stopped talking the moment things started to feel good, so you were used to coaxing him into speaking now. The few times you had placed a gag over his mouth were his saving graces from having to speak.

“Yes, please, more,” he managed to get out, but the way your finger was making lazy circles on his clit wasn’t helping his train of thought. He was always hyper sensitive whenever you touched him, and today was no different with how his eyes were already rolling back from your miniscule touches.

“Well I can’t say no to that,” you said as you took your hand away. You licked at the slick coating your finger and groaned at the flavor. How the man always managed to taste so sweet was beyond you. If there was one thing you would never get tired of, it was the taste of his cunt. There was always something just so unique about it, almost like it was out of this world. You could remain buried between his thighs forever if he let you just so you could enjoy the sweet ambrosia that was him.

Xavier looked almost offended when you had taken your hand away, but the look soon changed as he watched you gather up some pillows for neck support then laid down on your back. You motioned for him with grabby hands which caused him to let out a chuckle. “Come on, hurry up, I want you in my mouth like right now,” you whined. The switch in your demeanor was amusing as he looked at you waiting patiently for him to sit himself over your face.

Xavier got up onto his knees and adjusted himself until he was hovering over your head. You were already grabbing his thighs and playing with the taut flesh, giving him a playful squeeze in the process. “Is this alright?” he said as he slowly lowered himself.

His cunt was right in your face, but wasn’t making contact just yet as he hovered above you. You looked up at him expectantly and realized he was waiting for a response, “This is more than okay. Now drop down, and if you need to hold onto something I got us a nice headboard for a reason,” you gave his thighs a playful pinch which had him gasping.

He slowly lowered himself onto you and finally you could taste him. There was only one problem, “Xavier,” the fact that you could speak should’ve been his warning. He let out a hum and looked down at you, holding up the shirt that was threatening to slide down his body, “I said,” you grabbed his thighs tighter, “to sit,” you had dragged him down until his entire body weight was resting on you.

The moment he was finally on you, your mouth had gone to work. You didn’t waste any time as your tongue began laving at his sopping cunt, slurping up the juices that were all but dripping down your chin already. Your hands now grabbing his ass in a bruising grip as you forced him to grind on you, your tongue hitting his clit as your tongue went into his hole. You let out a satisfied groan as his weight rested over you just right, the softness of his socks encompassing your ears.

Xavier’s head was already spinning at this, feeling your wet tongue pressing against his insides. At times you wished it was longer so you could hit his g-spot, but even without it you could feel how much he was enjoying himself. His hips were already moving to grind on your face and you let out another groan of your own at how easy the glide was. His cunt felt velvety soft as your tongue continued working, teasing the outer areas until you positioned yourself at his clit.

The whimpers and moans leaving him seemed to almost bounce off the walls of the room, along with the sloppy noises as you lapped at his pussy. Your mouth formed a sucking around his clit and you could hear the rustling of the headboard as he gripped tightly onto it. You had to stop yourself from chuckling at his response as he whimpered as your mouth worked on his clit just the way he liked it.

You looked up and saw he had his eyes closed, mouth opened as he panted. A slight sheen of sweat was already forming on his forehead as he continued trying to grind himself onto your face. Your tongue lazily played with his clit and you watched the scrunch of his eyebrows as he concentrated on the sensations. His face was scarlet at this point and you could almost see the hot puffs of air escaping his lips while he panted. He bit down on his lower lip in an attempt to stay quiet, something you had explicitly told him not to do.

In response you slapped his ass harshly, making his eyes open in surprise while he got locked into eye contact with your own. Without even saying anything he knew what you wanted as he let out another pretty, breathy moan. The sounds he made gradually increased in pitch after that as he stopped holding them back.

You went back to pressing your tongue inside of him, allowing his hips to just grind and use your face for his own pleasure. His thighs were already shaking around your head as he brought him closer and closer to the edge with every stroke of your wet muscle inside of him. He was so pretty like this, becoming an absolute wreck in a matter of minutes all because of your mouth. You hadn’t even began finger fucking him yet and he was close to the edge.

Seeing Xavier cum was always the prettiest thing, how his eyelashes fluttered and his mouth opened to let out a loud, needy whine. His thighs clenched down on your head like a vice and you could feel his pussy throbbed against your tongue. You shook your head, letting your tongue brush against his clit to help him ride out his high. His juices flowed freely out of him and into your mouth as you drank him in, enjoying everything he could give you.

His head dropped back down to look at you as he felt his high starting to ebb away. Your mouth didn’t let up in the slightest, still pressing into his pussy and using your nose to rub against him. It had him gasping and you could see how his knuckles turned white from the grip he currently had on the bed post above your head. His breathy moans started turning into almost pained whimpers as he realized he was being overstimulated, and he looked back down at you while trying to form a coherent sentence through it all.

“W-wait,” he managed to grit out, “I-I need hah-a mo-moment, mhm,” he tried begging, but you were currently too pussy drunk to care. The heady taste of him on your tongue was too much as you switched up to sucking on his clit again. You took one of your hands off his perfectly round ass and worked on a good angle to press into his tight cunt. The glide was all too easy with how soaked he was, your finger easily slipping between his folds and into the warmth of his cunt.

Another gasp escaped him as you began fingering his oversensitive pussy, and he realized exactly how you planned on making him squirt. You’d normally let him have a moment of respite after he came, but at the moment it appeared you wanted to make an absolute wreck out of him. You were able to slip a second finger inside of him and with practiced ease crooked them until you felt the different texture inside of him. His whining only spurred you on in your movements as you made sure to thrust your fingers and crook them right up into that delicate patch inside of him.

His hips jolted and he was back to riding you, albeit this time far more sloppily. Your good boy was always so quick to cum for you, and it seemed this time was no different. After having a first orgasm it was clear his second was creeping up fast on him. The way he was shaking, and how his thighs kept clenching around your head felt euphoric to even yourself. You swore you could cum untouched just by unraveling the man above you. His noises were so loud as he panted your name, trying to get your attention. Your eyes snapped up into his own to look at his perfectly flushed face. His eyes were barely able to hold your gaze as they threatened to close on their own.

“Please, please, hng p-please,” he cried out above you like a chant, taking one hand off the headboard and threading it into your hair. He was trying to tug you impossibly closer to him, your mouth alternating between sucking harshly on his clit and pressing your tongue in circles around the pert bud. All you could do was hum, sending vibrations straight to his clit as you continued abusing his g-spot with your fingers. His voice cracked as he tried speaking, but instead all that came out was a whine and something akin to babbling that you couldn’t make out the meaning for.

He let out a cry as he came a second time, entire body shuddering at the intensity. His hips riding your face to perfectly as you continued your ministrations, not deviating from what was clearly working on him. The feeling of his cunt tightening and pulsating around your fingers had you groaning into him as you lapped up his release. He was still reduced to just speaking in small babbles, words forming but not being able to finish as they were stopped by his moaning.

Your chin was absolutely covered in his slick at this moment, and it only had you licking your lips as his orgasm started to end, those pretty moans turning into whimpers from how your tongue lazily licked his release. You pressed a quick kiss to his clit before you started working him up and off your face. As much as you wanted him to keep grinding on you, you had other agendas to fulfill right now. You wanted to watch in 4k how his pussy squirted everywhere, and from this angle it just wouldn’t be the view you were hoping for.

Xavier got the memo despite how clouded his thoughts were at the moment, and began sitting up on his knees again. Before he could get comfortable you were grabbing him by the waist and flipping him onto his back, right over the towel you placed earlier. The bed creaked under the sudden shift and you watched as he bounced from the force of the maneuver as his eyes widened to look at you. It was often you manhandled him, but he always seemed to like it if the way his ears turned bright red was anything to go by.

He let out a gasp at the sudden shift which was followed by a needy moan as you began peppering his thighs with more sloppy kisses. You used your leverage to push his legs up and hooked them over your shoulders. You sat up looking at him as you took in the current position. He looked so enticing, the flush he had went down to his chest and he was panting as he looked down at you. He already was looking wrecked and you were curious how far you could push it. After you made him squirt, what was stopping you from grabbing the strap on and just drilling him into the mattress?

He was so cute you couldn’t help yourself as you turned to his unmarked thigh and bit down on it. He let out a squeal from the sudden pain, almost whining as you licked at the now clear bite mark on his thigh. You chuckled and smirked up at him, “You’re so damn cute like this, I had to leave a new mark on you babes,” you cooed, kissing the bite. Sometimes you hated how fast he could heal in just his sleep, the marks you lovingly put on him always going away within a day or two. On the other hand, it gave you excuses to have him like this so you could refresh all your love bites.

“You always say that…” he panted out, wanting to close his thighs, but with their current position he knew he wasn’t going to be going anytime soon. You still felt the muscles tensing up and you ran your hand over the sock he wore, tempted to rip it off so you could feel his skin around your shoulders.

“That’s because,” you said as your hand trailed over his wet pussy, “It’s always true,” he rolled his hips into your hand at the sensation. Despite his sensitivity, it was clear he was wanting more with how he looked at you hungrily.

With that statement you were diving back between his legs, lapping up his juices as your fingers played with his clit this time. Your tongue pressing into his heat as you let out a mewl of satisfaction. He was responsive to your touch, his legs locking behind you and you felt every twitch he made as he focused on not crushing your head between them.

You glanced up to see his hands thrown behind him, grasping the sheets underneath him as he closed his eyes again. He allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of your mouth pressing against him, playing with every bit you could touch. His back was arching off the bed at this point as he let out cries, his head moving to the side as he tried to look at you through hazy eyes. His mouth opened wide so he wouldn’t try to hide those noises again, his bruised lips glistening and you think you could see a little bit of drool.

You groaned against him, shaking your head to throw him off. It seemed to work as he let out a gasp and you chuckled against his cunt. You moved back to sucking on his clit after then while, working on pushing three fingers and pumping them into his heat. He was squirming underneath you, not knowing if he wanted to get away, or let you continue whatever the hell it was you were doing. All he knew was it was working as he felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach that was different from his normal orgasms.

“W-wait,” Xavier tried warning you, squirming and throwing one leg up as he twitched from the stimulation, looking at you with panicked eyes, “F-feels different, please,” he groaned out, rolling his hips into you despite his protests. There was a small panic in his voice as he almost squealed at realizing you weren’t about to stop now that you had gotten this far. Instead of letting it out he bit his lip again to suppress it, which ended up in a whine coming from the back of his throat that you had never heard before.

That was a good sign for you as you groaned into him. You wanted to keep your mouth on him, keep pressing your tongue against his cute clit to see how far you could take this, but you also wanted to see. Have a front row seat when he squirts for the first time. You were certain he never had judging by how surprised he had been, and you were going to see it first hand. You wanted him to be a shaking, whimpering mess by the end of all of this, not knowing up from down with how fucked out he was.

You quickly replaced your mouth with your other hand and began working him perfectly, rubbing his clit in circular motions like you knew he liked. Your fingers began brushing against his g-spot again and he was shaking as his legs fell off your shoulders. They were crooked at the knees, his feet planted on the mattress as he tried grounding himself. His knuckles had long turned white again from his grip on the sheets above his head. He was trying to squirm away from the feeling, and you began making soothing noises and talking to him.

“Come on Xavie, just go with it, bunny,” you said gently, trying to get him to just let go with the feeling. From your research you knew it felt different from another orgasm, maybe more intense, and if he didn’t relax he might ruin his own orgasm by being stubborn.

He whimpered out your name as he stared up at the ceiling. It was clear he was attempting to relax and let go, but it wasn’t happening easily. He tried taking deep breaths, but they kept getting interrupted with small whimpers from the back of his throat. Then it seemed it was finally happening as he let out a wail, his ass lifting up a little off the bed. A string of little curses flowed out of his mouth, something he seldom ever did around you. Your eyes widened the moment you realized he was finally coming, the first sign was how he once again clenched on your fingers as you tried crooking them into his g-spot.

You watched as liquid literally burst from him, coating your wrist and arm in the fluid, as well as the towel that was below him. You even felt a little hitting your face from how close you were as you watched in fascination. You had never seen someone squirt in real life, and the moment was almost magical. It was only heightened by the noises Xavier was letting out as he rolled his hips, making a mess out of you and the towel.

Your eyes were wide like saucers as you watched the entrance to his pretty pussy as it glowed. You don’t recall a time where he ever came and it glowed like this. It was a bright yellow tone, painting him gold as he came, his hips rutting into the hand as you pressed down on his clit. It wasn’t hard to work him through his orgasm as he was crying out your name like it was the last thing he’d ever get to say in his life.

Watching him paint the towel and your face in his own release was probably going to be the highlight of your entire life. Not to mention how his evol literally illuminated the entire scene for you. It felt like it was out of some wacky ass fantasy book and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You took your fingers out of his cunt at the last minute just to admire what was essentially a pornographic light show. It was only when Xavier was flinching away from your touch did you finally stop your ministrations.

You watched as Xavier's body seemed to go slack, falling onto the bed as his legs weakly slid down to your sides. You popped your head up and gave him probably the dopiest grin you could muster. You could feel your chin dripping and you grabbed the clean corner of the towel to quickly wipe away the mess on it.. Even then your face still glistened a bit, but you didn’t care. It was the face of a winner, you had succeeded in your little experiment and made your adorable boyfriend squirt. Nothing in life could top this moment.

You adjusted yourself until both of your hands were at his side and you were leaning over his face, “Xavie…your pussy just glowed,” you were certain he had been too fucked out to even notice it, but like hell you weren’t going to tell him about the miracle he just produced between his slick folds. You had been absolutely mesmerized by it. Hell just about everything this man did seemed to captivate your attention, and this moment was no different. He was just too damn perfect for words to even begin describing it.

Xavier took a moment as he looked at you with a dazed expression. For the second time that morning you could see the cogs trying to turn in his head as he processed your words, “I’m sorry…what?” his voice came out as a croak from all the moaning he had been doing. His lip justed out in a small pout that caused you to laugh at the sight of him and placed a hand over his hip, just stroking the skin there lovingly.

“When you squirted all over my face, sweetheart, your cunt literally lit up from your evol,” you pointed out and now he was finally understanding your words. His eyes widening a fraction as he tried to look away from you. That wouldn’t do as you clicked your tongue and repositioned yourself so you could grab his chin and force his face to look at you.

He was able to see the shine in your eyes from how much you enjoyed it, which gave him a little more confidence as he tried speaking up, “Is that…” he finally looked at you with almost pleading eyes, “Weird?” The last part was said in a whisper as he hoped you weren’t judging him. You cooed at how adorable he managed to be and you leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek and nuzzled into the side of his neck.

He went to protest as your hair tickled him, but you were speaking before he could, “Actually it was the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” you pointed out and he let out a whine under his breath. He opened his mouth once again, but then your thoughts decided to blurt out something else, “I want to see it again,” your hands were now on his hips as you squeezed him.

His face quickly snapped over to where you were, looking down at your face as you pressed another quick kiss to his neck, “C-can’t I breathe for a moment?” he protested in a whiny voice and you weren’t having any of that. He had already done it once tonight, so why couldn’t he do it again?

“Um no,” you said and reached into your pocket where the bullet vibe was, “No you can’t,” Xavier’s mouth felt dry at seeing the vibrator. Whenever you pulled that out it only meant one thing…you were going to make him cum until he couldn’t even form coherent words anymore. The morning had only just started, and you were intent on finding every way you could ruin your adorable, whiny boyfriend.

#loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Xavier Love and Deepspace #Lnds #Lnds Xavier #lnds x reader #x reader #reader insert #xavier x reader #l&ds #l&ds xavier #l&ds xavier x reader #lads x reader #lads xavier #lads xavier x reader

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iiseult · 5 months ago

Note

hey ik you have a lot of requests rn but could i get a King Baldwin NSFW alphabet at some point? thxx

Nsfw Alphabet: Baldwin iv x reader (drabble (?))

Note: I feel like writing smut about him is gonna get me sent to hell but fuck it we ball! Also I know everyone is about to be real mad at me for not focusing on high noon sunlight but I'm annoying so I need to write short drabbles and stuff like this first to help me flesh out his character

CWs → smut, leprosy, general cringe, AFAB reader, historical inaccuracies

A = aftercare (what they're like after sex)

• He would immediately fetch something to clean the two of you up. He wants to make sure you're comfortable and ready to turn in for the night, because you're not going anywhere now.

• He needs you to stay with him and talk, so he can be sure you are a real person really love him as much as he loves you. Finding someone like you, who's willing to love him both emotionally and physically, was hard enough. There's no way he'll ever let you go now.

• He likes falling asleep to the sound of you reading to him. Since he usually doesn't allow for much cuddling for fear of infecting you, it's enough to be lulled to sleep by your pretty voice.

• If he does break down and let you cuddle, he prefers to be the little spoon as the two of you fall asleep. He craves the feeling of your face pressed into the crook of his neck, your warm breath tickling his ear.

B = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

• He doesn't have very high self esteem, and there aren't many parts of his body he'd say he "likes," per se, but the most tolerable to him is his chest. It's the largest part of his body unaffected by rash or sores.

• Since he is somewhat athletic, what with all the horseback riding and sword fighting, he is well-toned. His chest is sturdy and broad, perfect for resting your head on (or bite if you’re freaky like that 😛)

• His favorite part of your body is either your waist or your hips. He doesn't often get possessive (mostly because he doesn't feel worthy of possessing you), but holding you by your hips is the most intimate thing he can imagine. Feeling your curves with his own two hands and sliding his fingers over your supple skin until they come to rest around your waist is his subtle, gentle way of telling you who you belong to. And his hands are large enough that his fingertips almost touch when he holds you around the middle.

C = cum (anything to do with cum)

• He's afraid of his cum touching you. He worries it will somehow infect you or render you infertile, since many people still believed leprosy to be an STD. Therefore, he always pulls out and does his best to clean you up, should you come into contact with it. To him, you are so pure that he simply can't risk soiling you. He doesn't mind pulling out even though it can be so tempting to release inside of you, because no earthly pleasure is worth compromising your health.

• On the other hand, he doesn't mind your cum at all. He found it fascinating the first few hundred times; proof that you were genuinely feeling pleasure by his own hand.

• He would admire the glossy shine dripping from his fingers and then taste it slowly, no matter how flustered it made you. He doesn't find it unsanitary at all, like some men do. Plus, you always taste so good.

D = dirty secret

• As much as he would like to deny it, Baldwin is just like any other man, and he experiences sexual urges from time to time. Since he's so young and has been repressing himself for so long, it doesn't take much to turn him on.

• All you have to do is look at him the right way. Or any way, really. Your eyes alone are enough.

• The smell of your perfume does it, too. It's almost like a pavlovian response. If you spray some on his pillow or his clothes while you’re away, he’ll go insane, plagued by incessant thoughts of you that can only be held at bay by finishing himself off.

• Also, he wishes he could get you pregnant so fucking bad even though he knows it can’t happen. But if he had one magic wish, he would ask to be able to raise a child with you for as long as he can.

E = experience (how much experience/skill they have)

• Literally zero. He’s never had any sexual experiences with anyone else, and what he’s done with you is already far more than he ever expected. Everything he knows, you learned together. On the bright side, that means you can teach him to do everything exactly the way you like it.

• After a bit of time together, he’ll develop the necessary skills and become a very generous, devoted partner. Granted, you’ll have to show him what to do at first, and how to make you feel good, but he’s a smart man, and he’ll catch on quickly. After a simple demonstration and a few questions, he’ll start acting of his own accord.

• What he wants above all else is to please you; his own pleasure is a secondary concern. This may stem partially from his physical insecurities, and the fact that he couldn’t imagine anyone else touching him for so long. But it’s also because he loves you.

F = favorite position

• Cowgirl. He prefers to be on the bottom because it’s not as strenuous, but rest assured, he still contributes plenty. His absolute favorite is when you sit on his lap so he can put his face in your chest and grab your ass while you ride him. Usually it becomes more him thrusting up into you as you get tired of bouncing.

• This position also allows him to look up into your beautiful eyes as he penetrates you, which is often the final nail in the coffin for him. As soon as you gaze down at him with your messy hair framing your face so nicely, he feels himself twitch and has to pull out quickly, releasing hot ropes of cum onto your ass.

G = goofy (are they more serious or silly in the moment)

• Serious. He’s very romantic, and every single time, he reminds you how much he loves you. His feelings for you are not something he takes lightly. Additionally, he believes sex is a somewhat sacred act you should only ever share with your wife or husband, so it’s special to him every single time.

H = hair (how well groomed they are)

• He has pubic hair, but it’s soft, blond, and not very noticeable. Of course he’s always very clean and freshly washed, and often he will plan to bathe and apply fresh bandages to his body before spending the night with you.

I = intimacy (what are they like romantically in the moment)

• It’s unsurprising that he’s extremely sweet and loving during sex, since he’s like that normally, but it becomes even more pronounced. He just wants to be close to you.

• His favorite feeling is when he completely bottoms out and can feel his tip kissing your cervix. He loves burying his cock as deep inside you as possible and then holding that position, as strenuous as it may be, letting you feel every tiny twitch and pulse.

J = jack off

• After so many years of pent up sexual energy, it’s hard to close the floodgates once you open them. On nights when you sleep in separate bedchambers or are not together for some reason, it’s pretty much guaranteed that he’ll be fisting his cock for hours to the thought of you. Sometimes he’ll even practice using a pillow.

• Every single time he’ll feel guilty and embarrassed, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible, but it’s never enough. As soon as he felt you for the first time, felt himself sinking into you as your tight pussy stretched and squeezed him like nothing else ever had, it was the only thing he wanted for the rest of his life. The initial shock of pushing his swollen cock between your walls always draws a gasp from his lips, and it can’t be replicated, no matter how hard he tries.

K = kink

• Praise kink. Definitely. Especially when it’s about his appearance. He’d never heard a woman speak about being sexually attracted to him before you, and had always assumed they found him abhorrent. Actually, he’d grown accustomed to it and stopped being bothered by it at a certain point. So, every time you tell him what a pretty boy he is, it catches his off guard and makes his stomach erupt into butterflies.

• Complimenting his broad shoulders or tracing his abs with your delicate fingertips makes him blush so bad you can practically see steam coming from his ears. His eyes cloud over and he’s honestly one “good boy” away from actually drooling. ‘Cause he only really wants to make you feel good, and hearing the proof is the best reward.

• Hearing your moans also counts as part of this because it makes him feel strong and confident.

L = location (favorite place to do it)

• Bed, duh! Where else is fit for his queen?

M = motivation (what turns them on)

• Kisses. Even if they’re innocent. Even if you kiss him on the cheek because you’re in public and can’t do anything more. God forbid you kiss him anywhere else. Immediately, he gets hard.

• Kiss his neck and he’ll melt into jello in your hands.

• Kiss his collarbones and he’ll start getting a little desperate, grabbing you anywhere he can and rutting his hips into you.

• Kiss his hipbones and he’ll beg you to stop teasing and just touch him where he needs you, ‘cause it hurts too bad.

• Kiss his inner thighs and he might even whine. He’s used to getting whatever he wants, and teasing makes him so deliciously frustrated.

N = no (something they wouldn't do)

• He’s pretty vanilla, so most kinky things would probably be a no for him, but degradation is especially offensive, especially when it’s him degrading you. He hates the idea of speaking ill about you, his precious wife, the absolute love of his life, the woman he was head over heels for the second he met you. It wouldn’t make sense to whisper anything other than sweet nothings to you.

• He also wouldn’t enjoy being degraded. Even if he logically knows it’s all an act, it would get to him. He doubts himself and his sexual skills a lot since he doesn’t have the same physical abilities as other men, and hearing anything that might confirm his doubts, serious or not, turns him off. It makes him wilt like a sad flower. ☹️ Don’t you love him?

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill)

• He prefers giving! He thinks you taste like candy and loves hearing your desperate moans as he laps at your clit. He doesn’t mind at all when you start squirming and basically fucking his face. Anything for his princes, or, more accurately, his queen.

• He loves it when you finally cum and drench his entire face and chin. He’ll make you watch as he licks his lips.

P = pace (fast or slow? gentle or rough?)

• Slow and gentle, but deep and effective. He takes his sweet time with you, closing his eyes and allowing his body to do what comes natural.

• His touch is so soft and feather-light when he caresses your chest and thighs. He always treats you like glass.

• Every stroke is an intentional, fluid motion, never choppy or rushed.

• He kisses you softly the entire time, pressing his pillowy lips all over your bare chest and neck. And to your own lips, of course.

• Sometimes he holds your hand.

Q = quickie (their opinion on quickies, how often)

• He doesn’t know what that is, nor would he ever participate in one. Sex is meant to be fully enjoyed in private, in his opinion.

• Every time you sleep together, he pulls out all the stops, setting the entire evening aside to prepare. He makes sure the bed is clean and decorated with plenty of plush pillows and blankets, lights extra candles, draws the curtains, sends away the servants, and messes with his hair in front of the mirror until it looks satisfactory.

R = risk (do they experiment?)

• To an extent. He has definite boundaries that he will not cross, but if something sounds like it aligns with them, he’ll be eager to give it a try. It wasn’t so long ago he was being taught how to fuck, which was somewhat of an experiment itself.

S = stamina

• He doesn’t get overstimulated very easily and can go for pretty much as many rounds as you want. He barely even needs to stop between them, his refractory period is super short. Basically, as long as you’re in front of him, he’s hard. It’s literally so cute how much he loves you and your body.

T = toys

• It’s literally the dark ages baby we ZONT have that

U = unfair (how much they like to tease)

• Sometimes when he’s eating you out he likes to hold your hips flush to the mattress with his hands, not letting you buck against his face and effectively edging you. He thinks it’s cute to watch you get frustrated and whine his name. If you do, he’ll raise and eyebrow and ask what you want, pretending like he was born yesterday and doesn’t know good and well that you want his warm tongue back on your throbbing pussy.

• The teasing can’t last too long, though, because he’s a big softie and can’t stand being anything other than completely gentle with you for long periods of time. <3

V = volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make)

• Not too loud volume-wise. Lots of soft, quiet grunts in that smooth voice of his. If something you do catches him by surprise, he lets out a little yelp, which is more high-pitched and breathy. When he cums, it draws a long, rumbling moan from deep within his chest, and leaves him breathing heavily. While he fucks you, he lets out little puffs of air.

• If you tease him enough, he’ll get desperate and whine a little, but it’s pretty rare.

W = wild card (random hc)

• He’d be an ass man for sure. Not that he doesn’t enjoy your tits, too. He just has a weak spot for a nice ass. Yours just fills up his hands so perfectly that he can’t help but cup it in his palms and massage gently. If you’re laying on your stomach, he plays with it sometimes, fascinated by the way it jiggles when he nudges it.

X = x-ray (what's going on under their clothes)

• It’s big. Like, 8 inches and just girthy enough that your fingers can touch when you wrap your hand around it. He doesn’t know what to do with all that, honestly. He knows it’s kind of big and it actually embarasses him.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive)

• Oh baby it’s bad. He wants you. You’re the only one he wants. Every time he sees you he gets little hearts in his eyes and has to bite his lip to stop the impure thoughts that are plaguing his mind from taking over.

Z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep after)

• Not too fast, usually you have to read to him or rub his back for awhile before he sleeps. Even though his body is physically very relaxed after releasing all that tension, his mind is still going a mile a minute. He has a lot to worry about as king, and putting those thoughts to bed is sometimes easier said than done. Thankfully he has you to help him out.

#baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin iv #king baldwin iv x reader #baldwin iv one shot #baldwin of jerusalem

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cozage · 2 years ago

Note

Hey! I saw your request being open!

Could I have Monster trio (separate pls) with a female s/o that Sees her lover stressed/despressed/ down what you like, so she makes them Some dessert to their taste? To Show them love and being there for them? So just pure fluff!

Thank you again and take enough Breaks and have a nice day/night

A/N: I was a big fan of this. I hope you liked it!

Characters: gn reader x Luffy, Zoro, Sanji

Cw: sad boi hours, but still really cute!

Total word count: 1k

Luffy

Luffy doesn't seem as crazy as he usually does. He’s not running around or screaming as much, he’s more wandering around the ship, staring out to sea in thought. It’s kind of alarming for everyone on the ship, honestly

Double chocolate cake. It’s his favorite thing to eat, and luckily it’s something you can make pretty easily

You whip up the cake, and leave the spoon and the bowl off to the side for him to lick up later (sorry Sanji- you know he hates when Luffy does that)

He doesn’t even come into the kitchen when he smells the cake baking, and you take it out early just to get it to him faster.

When he sees it, the biggest grin appears on his face. And then he sees the battered spoon and bowl, and his smile somehow gets bigger. He starts to get tears in his eyes from happiness

He swallows it almost entirely whole, and he licks the bowl and the spoon completely clean of any HINT of chocolate. You could put it back into the cupboards, that's how clean they look.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask, and he stares into the cleaned bowl he’s still licking at.

“It’s Ace’s birthday today, I think.” he finally answers after a few long moments. “We made up birthdays for each other since we didn’t know our own.”

“Well, Happy Birthday Ace.” you say softly. “Should we have a party?”

Luffy’s smile returns. It’s not as big as it was before, but it’s there, and you count it as a win. “I think he would like that a lot.”

Zoro

He’s grumpy. Zoro is usually grumpy, but today he’s extra grumpy.

Zoro doesn’t like to talk about his emotions, and you know that better than anyone. So instead you remind him of your love…from a distance.

Desserts are hard for Zoro. Chocolate and candy are far too sweet for him to enjoy. But, surprisingly, you know he does like mochi. So that’s what you make.

It takes a lot of time and effort, making the sticky sweet rice balls and the ice cream to match. But luckily all you have is time today. You know when Zoro gets in his funk he doesn’t want to see or talk to anyone.

You make a few of each; green tea, strawberry, red bean, and just regular vanilla, and climb up to the crow’s nest where he’s hidden away.

You open the hatch and you can see him look over to see who has disturbed him, his eyes full of irritation. They soften slightly when they see you, but not by much.

“I just brought dessert for you,” you whisper, placing the plate down and starting to shut the door.

“Wait!” he demanded, slight desperation in his voice. “Do you want to eat with me?”

You smile at that, and climb up into the crow's nest. The two of you sit silently and eat the dessert until it’s all gone.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked him.

“No,” he snapped instinctually. “Sorry,” he quickly corrected. “Thank you for the food. It was really good.”

“Sure thing” you smile, blowing him a kiss and winking at him, taking your leave. “Let me know if you need anything else.” You see him nod and you’re thankful that you get to leave him with a smile on his face.

Sanji

It’s hard to tell when Sanji is upset about things, but there’s one main thing: He hides in the kitchen. So when you realize he hasn’t come out to see you halfway through the day, you get suspicious.

You wander into the kitchen and he looks up from his manic whisking of some kind of batter. He didn’t even look up to see you come in, and you can see three trays of cupcakes already made behind him.

“Sanji?” you call, and he looks up like a deer caught in the headlights.

“My love! Are you hungry? Are you sad? Do you need something?” he’s scanning your face to see if you were angry at all, worried he forgot something.

“Sanji.” You walk over and take the bowl out from his hands, setting it on the counter. Your hands cup his face so his eyes only focus on you. “Breathe, Sanji.”

You breathe in and out with him a few times, trying to get him to calm down. Once his breathing calms down and his eyes seem a little less scared, you both feel better.

“Out,” you command, and he looks at you funny. “I’ll handle this mess in the kitchen. Go sit by Chopper’s inflatable pool with him.”

He needs something simple, something refreshing, so you decide to stick with the basics. A homemade vanilla bean ice cream with a lavender lemonade.

He comes in several times during the process, and you kick him to the curb every time, He can’t even get past the door before you’re screaming “OUT!”

Luffy cleans up the cupcakes and batter, and you do all the dishes while the ice cream is mixing.

When you take it out to him, he cries a little bit. “You know me so well,” he sobbed, mouth full of ice cream.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, looking over at him.

“Not really,” he says, and you nod. That’s fine with you too. Some things are just too hard to talk about, but you’re glad you could get him out of his baking spiral at least.

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thoughtsfromlayla · 8 months ago

Text

My Dearest Defiance

Summary: Equal as an Endless, more than a human, yet less than a god. Where did you even belong? The question has haunted you since you first saw humanity rise into power. Now your brother has been kidnapped and you can't do anything to help him.

Notes: ~7.5k words, This fic is a follow-up to this post sent in by the lovely @kpopgirlbtssvt, thank you so much for the idea! I took a few liberties with the plot and I hope that's okay with you!

Warnings: Platonic! Big Brother x little sister! Reader, *side eyes* a lot of angst, violence, physical abuse, heavy mentions of cancer, implied alcohol consumption, minor Dreaming mind-fuckery, death of Reader (you come back...ish), death of characters, comfort in the end :)

Masterlist

Mother Night and Father Time, the first lovers, the everlasting lovers. And it was through their love that the Endless were born. Your eldest brother Destiny came first, birthed in dark cloaks and the book that was named after him. He is in charge of the fate of every being to live.

Every being who has lived must follow the path of this fate and fate always ends in Death, your eldest sister. When Mother and Father realized that the humans must do something while waiting for Death, they birthed your favorite brother, Dream. He is hope, the one who gives the humans courage to stand up for themselves and make do with their lives. Soon, humans wanted more and in succession, the rest of your siblings were born: Destruction, Desire, Despair, and sweet Delight soon to be Delierum.

While every Endless was busy tending to their own realms and their own duties, you were born. Endless in name but not in power. You were the runt of the family, with no realm to call your own, and no responsibilities of your own. Yet here you stood amongst the humans that soon called you Defiance, the human spirit, the resilience to continue despite all odds.

You’re sure your siblings knew of you, certainly enough to be invited to family dinner once every 100 years. Yet you could never shake the feeling of inadequacy when you were sat at the far end, only to be over-talked by everyone. They were discussing important matters, after all, nothing that you had to concern yourself with.

You only find solace in Dream, where no matter how difficult the days get, you may always find a home in his realm. While he is adamant about letting you stay in the castle, you find it more comfortable to live in a cottage at the edge of the realm where the forest meets with the vast unknown and you grow vegetables from the soil you tow. It also allows you to escape to the waking world without Dream knowing.

You love humans, their lives fascinate you to no end. They know of you, just as they know of all of your Endless siblings, but sometimes it just takes a little more for them to realize. You would never push them to admit to your existence and somewhere along the millions of years of existence, you have given up trying to be the center of attention.

To understand humans is to live like them, talk like them, and love like them. Unfortunately, humans are more than that and often succumb to feelings of anger, depression, righteousness, and violence. You try not to associate yourself with those emotions, but it’s innate.

It’s been a few weeks since you stepped foot in Dream’s castle, and who could blame you? The village in which you reside is much more fun than the dreary castle your brother tends to enjoy more. The thick castle wall blocks out the sunlight, it’s filled with dust and smells of wet stones and old books. Not to mention, when Dream was busy, there was no one to talk to. Lucienne was always busy, picking up after her King, and you don’t even want to get started on Mervin.

He’s only nice to you cause you gave him his pumpkin head when his original turnip head started going out of style. Otherwise, it’s cigar smoke being blown into your face and sassy remarks.

You’re out in the market square when you feel the presence of your Endless Sibling. You turn from the flower vendor with a big smile and wave at Dream as he makes his way towards you. The dreams that he created step to the side in the presence of their sovereign.

“Brother!” You exclaim when he gets close enough for you, wrapping one of your arms around his while the woven basket hangs in the other.

The basket was filled with a few apples and a fresh loaf of bread. You were just about to buy a few glass snowdrop flowers before you were pleasantly surprised by Dream.

“How do you do this afternoon, dear sister?” He speaks, leaning into your face to tease you.

You giggle at him as the two of you walk the main road, passing dreams and nightmares alike, a few waving at you in greeting that you return.

“I’m doing great. I was thinking of going to the waking world later today and spending some time with Death, actually.” You respond, your arm leaves Dream’s as a different vendor catches your eyes. They were selling acrylic paints in colors that you haven’t seen since half a century ago.

“Here, hold this,” You say as you hand off your basket to Dream. He does as he’s told and holds the basket, the white paint offputting to his otherwise completely black outfit.

You grab a few jars of paint and can already think of the wonderful things to draw when you get back into your cottage. There was a specific lake nearby that you haven’t been able to do justice to, but you think you finally can with the new color.

A brief conversation of exchange happens between you and the vendor before you turn around. You burst out laughing at the sight before you. Dream stood in the middle of the road where you had first told him to hold your basket and hadn’t moved an inch. His shoulders were stiff and taught as he held your basket as far away from his body as possible.

“It’s not going to bite you, you know!” You practically cackle at him. Your giggles follow you as you carefully place the jars of paint into your basket. You think that you will paint some flowers and ivy onto your basket later tonight.

You go to take the basket back from him but he’s quick to move it away from your grabby hands.

“You specified that I should hold it, so hold it I shall,” He says and holds the basket higher, just out of your reach, when you go to grab at it again.

You huff at his rather stubborn behavior, but he’s been like this since the beginning. He always looks after you and takes care of you. You’re always grateful for it, but you can carry your own basket. You resolve the conversation with a roll of your eyes but the smile on your face stays in place when you turn your back to him.

Dream walks you home, basket now significantly heavier and full of things you didn’t really need. Well, except maybe the paint, it’s good to splurge every once in a while. Your cottage is basked in a warm light as the Dreaming’s sun slowly disappears beyond the horizon to rise in another universe. The pie you had baked this morning had long since cooled and you brought it inside with a hum, your brother still following you.

He set the basket on the simple kitchen table before taking a seat and watching you slice up the pie with a smile. You set the pastry down in front of him and another plate for yourself. The savory apple flavoring takes over the senses when you take the first delicious bite.

“I would like you to come back to the castle soon,” Your brother says as you take another bite.

“Whatever for?” You question, a little bit of apple filling falling out of your mouth. “The cottage is my home.”

Dream sighs but answers anyway. “I will be gone for a moment, I need to take care of a rouge nightmare, and would like you to be cared for while I am away from the Dreaming.”

“How long will you be gone for you to want me to live in that dreadful place?” You make a face as you think about the boring days ahead of you. Well, maybe you can escape to the castle garden if Mervin isn’t paying attention.

“I cannot tell you for I do not know.”

You purse your lips as you think about his request. “Fine,” You groan.

“Best not see Sister Death today.” When you don’t bother with a response he speaks against “Farwell, sister. I will be back soon,” He promises you before standing. You didn’t get the chance to follow him to the door before he leaves, his apple pie still untouched.

“Ugh, how wasteful.” You joke to yourself.

You spend the rest of your evening painting your basket as you had wanted before packing up a few items for the castle. Your basket was a gift from your brother and had an infinite amount of storage. So you managed to shove an extensive amount of your wardrobe, the paints, and some of the freshly baked pastries into the small wooden thing. You set off when the moon was high in the sky and the stars came down from their afternoon nap and danced in the village square.

Their stardust shoes clink like pure jade against the cobblestone road, illuminating the otherwise quiet and sleeping town. A few wave at you, shimmering particles following their movements before they return to their waltz. You wave back to them before continuing on your journey, mindful of where you stepped.

When stars come down to the Dreaming they become transparent and more gaseous than solid but that doesn’t stop them from burning hot. And unless you wanted to recounter that one time you stepped through one and started sneezing and coughing stardust for the next 10 years, you’ll keep your distance - only allowing for their natural light to guide your way out of the village and towards the castle.

By the time you reach the castle, Dream is nowhere to be found and you assume he went out to do what he mentioned earlier that day. Your room was set up for you, Dream obviously had some palace staff tidy up the room as you took a look around the clean environment. Otherwise, everything was in the same place you had left it since the last time you were at the castle. You yawn as you set your basket down by the door. First a good night’s rest, then you can go to the waking world to do your own things.

You sneak out of the castle a few minutes before dawn, the soft bed and good night’s rest giving you the energy you need to do so. You grimace when the door creaks loudly as you slowly open it, smelling the early morning dew on the grass and the warming dawn wind.

“Where are you headed, my dear?” A voice stops you in your tracks. You suck your lips into your mouth as you soon recognize the voice.

“Good morning, Lucienne,” You greet curtly, holding, or rather, hiding, your basket behind your black skirt.

Lucienne gives you a pointed look. “Yes, good morning.”

You give her a smile before stepping back out the door, only to be stopped when she purposefully clears her throat.

“The question?” She presses.

You feign innocence and bat your eyelashes, not that it would work. “What question?”

“Lady Defiance, my Lord specifically states that I keep my eyes on you.” Lucienne holds her hands behind her back as she takes her stance.

“By all means, keep your eyes - hey what’s that?!” You gawk as you point behind Lucienne.

Lucienne snaps her head around to look at what you were so surprised by. She doesn’t see or sense anything when she does. It’s about two seconds of her searching before she realizes that she has been duped. When she turns around the door is swinging shut and you are nowhere to be seen. She slams the door open and only sees the last of your figure disappearing on the horizon.

You’re still giggling to yourself about pulling off that little trick when you reach the ocean of the Dreaming. The little wooden dock creaks under your weight as you skip across it. Having done this traveling before, you jump right in with a squeal, holding your nose close so you don’t get any water in.

The water pushes and pulls but you don’t fight the current knowing that it will take you where you wanted to go. When you emerge, you cough once and the water falls off your body, leaving you dry in cloudy 1916 England. You wrap your blazer closer to your body as the wind picks up and leave the alleyway. The familiar smell of roasted peanuts from street vendors and car fumes tickles your nose when you turn the corner to walk into the hospital.

“Hi, I’m here to visit Genny, uh, Geniveve, Geniveve Colemen,” You correct yourself to the receptionist. The woman nods and looks down at her computer.

“She’s in the same room, 443. Here’s your visitor’s pass.” She hands you a laminated badge on a lanyard.

You thank her before wearing the lanyard and going towards the nearest elevator. The elevator smelled of shoe polish and disinfectant spray and it made your nose crinkle. You just hope the smell doesn’t transfer onto your clothes.

When you reach your destination, you knock on Genny’s door before entering. She wears her hospital gown and was reading a book when she looks up. A smile pasters onto her face when she sees you.

“Y/N!” She drops her book and sits up straighter.

“Genny!” You exclaim back with the same amount of excitement. You place your basket by her bed before pulling out a fresh vase of flowers and setting it by her bedside table.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, what have you been up to?” She asks.

“Yeah, my mother took me to some private tutor to help me study for my tests,” You lie through your teeth as you fluff the flowers to make them look more appealing.

You tuck your school skirt underneath you when you sit down next to Genny and reach for your basket again. “I brought you some homebaked goods. I know this hospital’s food has got to be horrendous.”

You bring out the baked loaf of bread you bought the day before and rip off a slice for her. She takes the loaf and inhales the scent.

“Gosh, Y/N, I don’t know how you make such good baked goods. Your husband will be a lucky one if you stop trying to chase them off.” She giggles and muffles through her full mouth.

You laugh with her, sparing her the details of your actual life. You bring forth the lie you had carefully planted yourself as instead. A straight-A student that goes to the same school as Genny before she was diagnosed with cancer, how you were her best friend that visited her when you got the chance, how you had gotten onto the school council and despite all of her poking and prodding, she would not get to know what the school formal’s dance theme is going to be unless she went with you tomorrow to the dance. You try not to think about how frail she has gotten since the first time you’ve met her. Her collarbones were poking out and you can see how hard it was for her to take even breaths.

When she asks you again later in the visit about the school dance you rebuttal quickly.

“Are you going to come to the dance with me?” You laugh. “Speaking of which, I got you a dress, too!” You go back to your basket, pulling out a formal dress, and setting it in front of Genny.

“Wow! Look at the bead stitching,” She says, running a delicate finger over the beading and gems then over the lacing.

“I’ve got a good eye, don’t I?” You sit back down with a smile and a tilt of the head. “It matches my dress, too.”

“What about your own date?”

“Oh, please, I don’t have time for boys!” You giggle again, hiding behind the lie that you don’t actually go to her school.

“Oh alright, I suppose I must go to the dance with you so you won’t be lonely.” Genny surrenders.

You smile at her, happy she finally agreed. “You’re a great friend.”

Genny coughs after your compliment and you’re quick to reach for the water and hand it over to her. When she sits up to drink you go to fluff her pillow. Genny lays back down with a sigh and all of the warmth that was in the room leaves through the window. She looks like she’s aged when she looks at you again, another cough crawling its way past her throat.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” You say, turning around to grab your things.

“No,” Genny refuses. “Can you stay for a little bit longer?” She coughs again and holds your hand weakly. “I want to feel like a normal girl for a little while longer.”

“Okay,” You whisper and sit back down, feeling the chill of the hospital around your ankles.

You watch over her as she falls asleep, the conversation taking the last of her energy. You begin to stare off into space, thinking about your life. You did your best with the gift of immortality, but as you stare at Genny’s tense face, you wish you could do more. Equal as an Endless, more than a human, yet less than a god. Where did you even belong? The question has haunted you since you first saw humanity rise into power.

Your thoughts leave you when you feel the beating of wings and a flush of wind from the door. Your head snaps and you see your sister standing there in her black tank top and the same combats boots you wore.

“Sister Death,” You greet with a small smile, previous thoughts disappearing. “What brings you here today?”

Your sister only smiles at you. Your excitement of seeing your sister again is soon taken over by dread. You look between your sister and your friend and the dots connect.

“Oh... what? No!” You stand abruptly between your sister and Genny. “No! She still has so much to do in life!” You try to reason with her.

“You cannot bargain with me, Defiance. You know that,” She says in her soft voice.

“I don’t care,” Your lips form into a line. “At least let her go to the dance with me?” You try one more time.

Death sighs with exaggeration. “Fine, but not an hour more.”

“Thanks…” You’re not entirely sure how you managed to pull that off, unbeknownst to you that your sister has a soft spot for you much like Dream.

Your sister looks you up and down before she leans on the door. “So how are you doing, then?”

You look off to the side when you answer. “Fine,” You grumble out.

She lets out a huff, or perhaps a laugh, you can’t really tell. “Would you like to go on a walk with me?”

It was a tempting offer, after all, you haven’t spent time with your sister in a while. You thought about it for a little while longer. “No,” You end up refusing.

“Genny asked me to stay a little while longer, so I shall.” You turn away from your sister and sit back down in the uncomfortable hospital chair. You keep your head straight, looking after Genny, and don’t take your eyes off her even when you hear your sister departing.

When she does, a tremble runs over your body. You feel tears prick at your lashline as you come to terms with the fact that your friend will be dying soon. You did your best to prevent the inevitable, but with no powers of your own, it’s only a waiting game now.

You leave when visiting hours are over, Genny has yet to wake up from her nap. You leave the rest of the loaf on her bedside table, and a slice of your apple pie. You decide to tidy up the room as quietly as you can and hang her dress on the hook that was nailed to the wall. With one final look at her, you leave, only hoping that your sister doesn’t go back on her word and take her before her allotted time.

You spend the rest of the evening in the waking world, catching up on new things the humans have done with their time. You end your day on a park bench, illuminated only by a single street lamp. The park was quiet, you’re only accompanied by the sound of crickets and the wind along the trees. You take in a deep breath of fresh air. Oh, how you have missed this. If only it was closer to summer vacation, you would’ve taken Genny to the beach and had some sun time with her.

When you are done relaxing you go to the pond at the center of the park, the fountain in the middle still squirting out water and creating magnificent shapes and splashes along the surface. You could see the stars' reflection rippling as you peer at the lake over a bridge. The wind blows and you close your eyes to savor the moment.

“I wouldn’t jump if that’s what you’re thinking,” Someone says next to you.

You open your eyes and turn to see a man standing next to you, no older than 20. He takes off his hat when you speak.

“I wasn’t, but thank you,” You reply simply and go back to looking out towards the expanding city. He doesn’t leave your side despite your answer and it gets a bit awkward.

“Are you thinking of jumping? Because I would also not recommend that, sir,” You turn to him again and see him laughing.

“No,” He says. “I am just here to think.”

“Just like me then. What bothers your mortal mind?” You ask.

“Many things… I’m afraid I have let my family down.”

“How so?”

“We came here on a boat from the motherland, nothing to our name but a few pennies. I was supposed to go to college and finally put our family on the map. But I failed and now here I am, talking to a stranger on a bridge in the middle of the night.”

You laugh along with him. You knew of him and saw his dreams a few times when you went out exploring in the Dreaming. He wanted to be a doctor, specifically an athletic injuries doctor but failed out of medical school before he even got the chance. You rack your brain to think of his name, and when it comes to you, you speak.

“Do not worry, Albert Brocken, I’m sure there are many opportunities that will come alight in the near horizon. Perhaps you should take the entrance exam again, and see where it takes you.” You yawn and you realize that you should probably start heading home.

“Yeah… maybe I should,” He concludes with a sigh. “I think I might go into somnology,” He says more to himself than you.

“Somnology sounds fascinating,” You agree. “I must go home now, but best of luck to you!” You walk away, your shoes barely audible on the stone bridge over the gushing fountain. Albert doesn’t look your way when you depart, too focused on his new goal in life.

You find yourself standing before an old winding cottonwood tree in the same park. It’s been here for years, growing into the magnificent tree it is today. It’s passed by thousands of England residents almost every day, yet none of them are willing to stare at it hard enough to realize that the bark of the tree isn’t real.

You take one last look around the park to make sure no one else sees you before walking straight into the tree, the danging leaves caressing you like a gentle mother’s touch. The trunk of the tree turns into a curtain of falling sand and you pass through with no problems. When you emerge on the other side, the bright moon of the Dreaming greets you, illuminating and basking you in a soft welcome. When you come back into the castle, Lucienne is on top of you like a hot iron.

“Thank the Gods you are well,” She panics as she holds your arms. After taking a good overall look at you, she wraps her arms around your body and brings you into a hug.

“Lucienne?” Your question muffled against her crisp uniform. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, my dear, you hadn’t come back all day. I thought perhaps…” She trails off before she takes a breath. “Lord Morpheus hasn’t returned, and neither had you, so I presumed the worst.”

“Morpheus hasn’t returned?”

“No, but you are here. Tell me, did you see him while you were in the waking world today?” Lucienne holds hope in her eyes and you resent the next word you say.

“No,” Your thoughts trailed off. “Morpheus hasn’t returned?” You ask again.

“I am sure there is nothing to worry about. I may just be overthinking is all.” Lucienne reassures you.

“Okay…” You don’t completely believe her, somewhere deep inside you you can feel that Morpheus is in danger. As the King of Dreams and Nightmares, a rouge nightmare shouldn’t be anything to be worried about. He should be home by now.

Your eyes close as soon as your head hits the pillow, but thoughts consume you. After the dance tomorrow night with Genny, you will go searching for your brother. The following day came quickly and you paced back and forth in the castle hall, the formal dress you had on jingling with your movements. Your thoughts were in overdrive, there was Morpheus of course, but you also knew that tonight was going to be Genny’s last day. And knowing that puts a weight on your shoulders. You have to make sure that tonight is going to be the best night of her life.

When the time came, you went to the waking world feeling dolled up and in an antique car with the roof down. Your hair had enough hairspray to survive a storm from Zeus himself. You pull up to the hospital in a screech, Genny already waiting for you in the lobby. You check your lipstick in the mirror one last time before Genny reaches your car.

“You know how to drive?!” Genny says with a smile and excitement that you found contagious.

You resecure the silk scarf that protected your hair from the wind and open a pair of sunglasses to put over your eyes. You look at her over the bridge of your nose, your eyes shining past the sunglasses before stepping on the gas pedal.

“I know how to do many things, sweet Genny!” You shout over the wind, pushing the glasses back to their original position.

Each time you looked over at Genny, her smile still hadn’t faltered and the last bits of the sun’s rays caught on the embroidery of her dress. Her softness brings a smile to your face and for a moment you forget about your brother.

You pull into the gravel driveway of the school formal’s destination. You had managed to weasel your way into the school council and they were able to get help from the local people. The theme for this year's dance was “A Magical Night” and a local citizen opened his manor to the students for the night. He called himself a mage, something that you rolled your eyes at as magic has been rare in this world since the faeries left it half a century ago. But you kept that to yourself, if he wanted to play make-believe, then so let him.

Students were already lining up outside the decorated manor when the two of you arrived. You hand your keys off to a valet and walk towards the door, hand in hand with Genny. Her excitement buzzed through her like a shot of tequila.

When you cross over the threshold of the manor you are genuinely surprised at the decorations of the place. The ballroom had been cleared out and a live band was playing music for students to dance to. There was a bar on the far end of the ballroom serving drinks and small snacks. A doorman takes your jacket away from you before you grab Genny’s hand and head to the dance floor.

Many of Genny’s old friends soon recognize her and start to surround you two, the night is still young and the sound of laughter soon fills the air. You and Genny danced the night away until you both were sweaty and out of breath. Your make-up had gone a bit smudged but you didn’t mind. It was nearing midnight when most of the students started to leave and you pulled Genny away for one last surprise.

Genny started to slow down a bit, the exercise of the dance sapping away her energy. She pulls through though and follows you to a winding staircase that leads to one of the roofs of the manor. The spring air chills you to your bone, but it is well received after the sweat you have built up. You help Genny sit down before you sit down next to her, the shingles of the roof poking through your dress in an uncomfortable way.

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips when you look out to the vast countryside behind the manor. The stars twinkle as far as the eyes can see and from your advantage point, no trees are blocking the view either. Genny pants beside you as she calms herself down from the climb and leans her head against your shoulder.

“I am so glad you made me come to this dance,” She whispers as she looks out to the stars.

“Me too,” You agree, you begin the absentmindedly swing your legs back and forth. Your heels come loose and slip from your feet and both you and Genny laugh at it.

“Gosh, I hope that didn’t hit anyone,” She continues to laugh as she cautiously peers over the side.

“Or else they’d have to smell my stinky feet, ewww!” You continue her joke.

Her laugh turns into a cough and your mood shifts to melancholy.

A shift in the winds tells you that her time will soon be up. “Genny,” You start. “My sister is going to be here soon.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yes, I have a huge family actually.”

“Well, tell me about your sister,” She smiles, head feeling heavier as she puts her full weight on your shoulder.

“She is really sweet, and a soft, kind-hearted soul. Just like you, I suppose.” You say.

Genny doesn’t reply and tears prick your eyes. When you turn your head you see Genny standing up with a smile, yet her body still remains on your shoulder. Behind her stands your sister, a reassuring smile and a gentle hand rest around Genny in a side hug.

“Your sister says that she’ll take great care of me,” She starts and looks at Death with a solemn smile. “Will she?”

“Yeah, she’s one of the best…” Your voice dips into a murmur as you feel your lips tremble.

Your answer is enough for her and she turns to leave. She seems to have remembered something as she turns back around and wraps her hands around your shoulders, her ghostly figure slightly falling through your physical form.

“I’ll see you again, right?” Genny asks, hope lines her figure and you can’t bear to see it fade.

“Yes,” You lie through your teeth. “Good-bye.”

She turns to leave with your sister, blissfully unaware of your last farewell. The sound of Death’s beating wings was the last thing you heard before it was just the barren countryside again. Genny’s body grows cold by your side as you pet her hair for the last time.

The manor staff came soon when you faked a scream and soon ambulances came and went with her body. You’re left in the aftermath of a romantic dream of confection and ribbons alone in the middle of the dance floor feeling numb.

“Hey, lady, if you’re going to stand here moping you can at least help out,” A staff member calls out and you snap out of your thoughts.

He hands you a few foldable chairs and tells you to put them up. You nodded along, not really having much else to do. You meander through the halls when you realize that he didn’t tell you where to put the chairs. It’s when you find yourself at a set of stairs that lead down towards the basement. And to you, it made all logical sense for humans to store their things in the basement.

You open the heavy double doors and descend further into the musky basement. Candles were lit on the stairs and its melted wax coats the edges as it lightens the path. When you get to the bottom, you’re greeted by the host of the party that you met earlier in the night.

“What are you doing here, girl!” He scolds.

You hold up the chairs, unaware of his tone. “Hi, Mr. Burgess. I’m helping with clearing up after the dan…” Your final word trails off as your eyes wander past his figure.

Behind him sits your brother and your jaw drops. Mr. Burgess tries to stand between you and him when he notices that your attention is no longer on him. Dream stands fully in his glass prison and you would have made fun of the fact that he was fully rocking out in his birthday suit if not for the situation at hand.

“Oh, what the fuck,” You whisper, dropping the chairs.

You breeze past Mr. Burgess and stand before Morpheus. Golden runes that surround his prison stop you short as if there was some sort of invisible force field. Your head whips around and faces your host again. He stands tall as he stares back.

“Why do you have my brother in a-a… fucking FISH BOWL!” Your words stumble out at the utter audacity of the situation, your hands moving around expressively.

Realization dawns on him and you realize that you made a mistake. “So, you are one of his family. That man warned me about your kind. Which one are you.” He seethes as he walks towards you.

“You face Defiance of the Endless,” You spit back at him.

You were in no mood to play, first, your friend dies in your arms and then you learn that Lucienne’s suspicions were right and that something did happen to your brother. This whole time he had been here under your feet while you were having fun. His clothes, tools, and dignity stripped from him as you drank enough sparkling cocktails to make Dionysus jealous.

The man scoffs at you and spits at your feet. “Oh please, and I thought that it was going to be hard. I’ve heard of you, little girl. They told me that you are nothing, a nobody. You have no realm, no powers, you are barely a god.”

You stay silent as he speaks, rage flushes through your body and your muscles tremble. His words rang true, but here you shall stand for your brother. He advances on you and you find that you have nowhere to go. A sharp pain burns across your cheek as his pierced cane comes into contact with your skin.

Your body follows the force as it throws you off balance. Your head cracks against the stone floor of the basement and a gasp leaves you. Your vision blurs from the hit and you feel warm blood sliding down your cheek like an unshed tear. In the distance of your mind, you hear Dream slamming his fist against his glass prison. You stand again, determined to not be bested by a mere mortal.

His cane comes down again like a whip, hitting your shins and then once again on the back of your knees. The blow forces you to kneel before him, and your cries of pain echo in your head. The coarse floor scratches at your palm but you keep your breath as even as you can.

“Is that all you got?” You sneer as you look up at him through your eyelashes.

His foot comes towards your face and you squeeze your eyes shut right before the impact follows. Your body tumbles further away from Dream, but his slamming continues. You feel the wall behind you, its surface cooling down your heating body.

“Stop, I command you to stop!” Morpheus shouts, command muffled.

“Dream of the Endless commands you to stop,” You repeat your brother's words. You use the wall to brace yourself to stand on wobbling legs.

Iron fills your mouth and you spit it out back at Burgess’ feet, much like he did to you before. You grin when you see him grimace at the act. You wipe your mouth clean with the back of your hand, very unladylike, but between the three of you, who is going to judge?

A backhanded slap snaps your head to the side and another painful scream follows.

“Stop! Cease yourself or face my wrath!” Dream continues to scream as your vision blurs again.

“No, I can take it,” Your voice is coarse but the message is heard loud and clear.

“Oh, you can take it, hmm?” Burgess taunts and his cane jabs into your abdomen.

You feel like you couldn’t breathe, that no matter how much your mouth gaped open, oxygen didn’t fill in your lungs as you needed it to.

“I can take it,” You wheeze out again, another hit forces you back down and this time you don’t have the strength to get up again.

“I suppose one step higher than capturing an Endless is to kill one,” Burgess laughs on top of you. His heavy body straddles you and you feel his hands wrap around your neck.

Black dots swarm your vision like the expanding universe. Your nails claw at his hands, drawing blood, as your body tries its best to fight back. Burgess picks you up by the neck and slams your back down, stars waltz behind your eyelids and a brief vision of home comforts you. A ragged breath crawls through your throat before another slam into the ground silences you. Despite your efforts, your hands grow limp and you feel your body start to break down. It flakes away like spring cherry blossom petals as you take your last breath.

“No!” Dream’s scream is the last thing you hear.

Your consciousness fades to black and it is quiet for once. It’s odd to think that an immortal being can die, but it’s true. The only thing that differentiates it is that you could be reborn. Immortality is a fickle thing.

When you come back into consciousness, you can feel the Dreaming heal your soul. It wraps its warmth around you like a soft blanket and you finally feel safe enough to stop everything that ran through your mind. When you stretch out your limbs you realize that you weren’t in your human form anymore.

Your perception spans further and you can see new angles you haven’t seen before through your eyes. You wiggle your toes, or what you thought were your toes and feel soft and fertilizing soil below you. When you look down you notice that your legs have turned into the soft bark of a willow tree. Your arms shake and the reaching leaves of the tree shake from the action. You sigh and your bark groans and creeks under your deflation.

You soon become a welcomed resident in Fiddler’s Green, providing shade for the decreasing amount of dreamers that come to visit you. As the years pass, the Dreaming starts to die around you as Morpheus stays entrapped under the Burgess Manor. You stay as a tree, unable to move and help. Guilt eats you alive, leaving your core to rot from the inside out.

Lucienne comes to visit now and then, but as the castle starts to fall apart, she can’t find the time to come by anymore. Your days grow lonelier as Fiddler’s Green decides to leave the Dreaming as well. You stand on dry soil in a barren wasteland. Your inaction keeping you hostage like a ladybug in a spiderweb. The more you struggled, the harder you found it to keep your human consciousness.

So, you did the most human you could think of: you cried. Fitting, you thought to yourself, a weeping willow, well, weeping. Your tears came to fruition in the form of vibrant yellow blossoming flowers against the beige and cracking surroundings.

You stayed like that for the next 106 years. Your roots had grown so long that you could feel each corner of the dreaming, searching high and low for water to drink from. Soon, even that would run out. Another tear runs down your bark, your trunk growing deep grooves where the previous century of tears had carved. Despite all odds, your leaves were still vibrant and your flowers would change colors based on your mood. A trick that took you a few decades to learn.

The moon rises higher and higher over the horizon. You follow its path, counting the fragments to keep your mind from boredom. It split in half 15 years after Dream’s capture and every five years or so, another fragment separates from the moon. You counted 18 fragments this time around, the same as the day before, and the week before that. You yawn, the bark shaking as you do so and close your eyes to rest.

You wake to a soft hand on your bark just as dawn cracks. Your leaves shake in surprise as someone touches you. It takes a moment to reorientate yourself and when you look down from your height your breath hitches.

“Sister?” Dream calls out, his hand still on your bark.

Relief floods your system just as a soft breeze runs its fingers through your thin leaves. Your catkin flowers caress his skin when he smiles at you. Just as fast as relief has found you, guilt consumes you again. Morpheus has escaped, it had taken him 106 years and all you have done is stand here and do nothing. Your branches groan again, more flowers blooming in its wake as you weep again, and the individual petals turn a deep blue color.

Dream grabs one of your leaves gently as it tries to recede from his touch. “Y/N,” He calls out carefully. “I do not blame you for what happened 106 years ago.”

“I am touched by your sacrifice.” He pauses as he picks his next words carefully. “You were the only one who came to my side when I needed it.”

You still stay quiet but your petals slowly start to return to their yellow colors. Morpheus takes this as a good sign and continues.

“I love you, dear sister, I wish for you to never doubt that. If only I could give you a hug for all that you had done for me,” He prods and extends both of his hands outwards.

You purse your non-existent lips in thought, a very tempting offer. Why not try one more time, to be by your brother’s side? Your bark groans again and you concentrate. You try to remember the details of your human body. How did your hair look? How did you hold yourself? Did you have a mole on this side of your face?

Your leaves and branches start to shake and shrink in on themselves the more you think. You call in your roots and start to wiggle your toes. You think of your fingers and how they had done so much for you: the paintings you made, the pastries you baked. One last tear escapes down your raw skin and when you open your eyes again, you are looking at Dream through new eyes.

Morpheus comes into your space and wraps his steadying arms around you. You sob into his jacket until it becomes uncomfortable. Your throat is raw when you’re finally reduced to hiccups. Through it all, Dream is holding onto you, gently caressing your hair the way you have liked since you were born.

“I like this new hair of yours,” He comments as he pulls at a few strands of your hair. It’s longer this time around and kept the same emotional properties your flowers had. It changes from blue to green as your mood shifts.

“Great, now I can’t hide my emotions anymore.” You mutter weakly to yourself as it changes to red at your slight annoyance.

Dream chuckles above you and gives you one final tight squeeze.

“Welcome home, sister,” He whispers. You take a deep breath, letting it fill your lungs thoroughly.

“Yes, I am home.”

I did a surprising amount of research for this fic. Apparently, the first woman to attain a driver's license was like in 1900 so that's why Genny was so surprised you could drive. Also, I would not recommend driving in a 1916 vehicle? Looks like it could explode at any minute.

This was a request! And requests are open, just go to my page and hit that button to submit one.

If you do submit a request, it may take me a bit to get to them just because of the nature of it and my classes are starting to get ready for finals. (Your girl is graduating this semester woohoo!)

I will see you in the next fic!

♡ Yours, Layla

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #sandman x reader #siblings #sibling reader #platonic relationships #platonic #x reader #angst with a happy ending #angst #reincarnation

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