#it feels so much lighter and more intimate than ever before

[owlsie-hoot]

Siegfried cares, in his own special way ♥︎ // 05.02

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Me or him (part 4)

~ part 1, part 2, part 3

pairing: felix x afab!reader x hyunjin genre: angst, smut word count: 3.2k warning/s: swearing, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v (don't do it), creampie, no happy ending!!! a/n: this is the last chapter of this mini series! i hope you enjoyed it as much as i had fun writing it🫶🏻(and also made myself cry while writing this last chapter dkdldl) ~ check out my: Masterlist

The last few days, you were nothing but miserable. All day, every day you thought about what you did and the more you thought about it, the more it depressed you.

Felix has been texting and calling for days. But you couldn't deal with him and the last thing he said before he left that night.

'I'll never give up on us.'

What he said made you even more mad in that moment. You tried calling Hyunjin but it seems that he blocked your number as soon as he left the apartment and your life.

You knew there was no going back and there was no way he would ever forgive either of you but you wanted to at least tell him how bad you felt for betraying him and breaking his heart.

Changbin came to pick Hyunjin's stuff up and he gave you the cold shoulder as soon as he saw you.

"H-how's Hyunjin?"- you ask quietly as Changbin packs his stuff.

"How do you think he is?"- he scoffs, not even looking at you.

"I- I know I fucked up real bad. But can you just tell him how sorry-"

"No, y/n. You don't get to apologize and feel better because of it. Hyunjin deserves more than a shitty apology you're making just because you feel guilty. I hope you feel guilty for a very long time cause you really broke his heart. Both you and... Felix. I don't wish anything ill upon anyone usually, but honestly whatever karma you two get, you deserve it."- Changbin says, shoving the last of the boxes closed.

You're silent. There is nothing you can do, you know Changbin loves Hyunjin like a brother and nothing you say to him in this moment can repair what you've broken.

"Also, here's anything you gifted to Hyunjin or him to you while you were together. He doesn't want any of the stuff to remind him of you so sell them, throw them away or something. I don't know."- Changbin shrugs, bringing in a box.

"Goodbye, y/n."

-

Your apartment might as well be completely vacant cause that's how it feels. Half of your closet is empty. Hyunjin's favorite snacks are gone from the pantry. His paintings that adorned the walls were gone, the paint on the wall lighter where they used to hang, leaving just a shadow of what once was.

The smell of his skin has almost completely faded away from your sheets. You can't even sleep in your bed because every time you lay down in it, you remember how you said your lovers name in the most intimate moment shared with your boyfriend, and your chest squeezes in anxiety.

You sleep on the couch, you force yourself to eat, you exist at work, your days seem to be seeping into one long painful experience. It's like you're barely even real, like the world is moving around you in slow motion and you're just there.

You can't take it.

You can't take being alone.

-

Your hand trembles as you lift it up, contemplating if you should actually be doing this.

It's still not too late to turn back and just go home. But what are you going back home to? Empty walls? A cold bed? That damn box of things that remind Hyunjin of you that you still didn't manage to bring yourself even to touch?

No, you can't go back there. Not like this.

So you ring the doorbell.

"Coming!"- you hear his muffled voice.

The door opens and a disheveled Felix widdens his eyes at the sight of you.

"Y/n!"- he gasps.

"I... I didn't know where else to go."- you say weakly.

Felix stares at you for a moment, the look in his eyes becoming softer.

"Come in."- he says and steps aside.

You end up sitting on his couch, where everything started. Pretty ironic, you think. He sits down too, and the two of you struggle to say something.

"Didn't you say that you don't ever wanna see me again?"- he asks quietly.

"That didn't stop you from calling and texting."- you answer equally as quiet.

"Well, I said I wont give up on us. That wasn't a lie."- he says and you sigh, finally finding the courage to look at him. He waits for you to say something and you stare at him, his eyes still warm when they look at you. You hurt him too though, haven't you?

"Felix, I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't really mean it. I was angry at myself and I took it out on you. I mean that's no excuse but we both did a really shitty thing. I feel so fucking guilty, sick to my stomach for hurting someone as wonderful as Hyunjin is."- your eyes water. "I think about it every day. I really hope he can heal and find someone better. And I... well I want to try giving us a chance if you still want me."- Felix's eyes widden.

"But I need to know that you feel guilty too. I need to know that you know what we did was wrong."- you add, wiping away tears that slowly made their way down your cheeks.

"Ofcourse I feel guilty, y/n. I'm not some kind of monster. Hyunjin is- was one of my closest friends. I broke his heart too, I betrayed him too. And I do think about it. But, I can't help also thinking about you every day. I still want you, I want to be there for you. I want to be yours."

Your heart speeds up when you hear those words and you wordlessly lean in, closing the gap between you and Felix. His lips are soft against yours and only when he reciprocates the kiss, you realize you missed him.

"Wait a sec."- Felix gently grabs your wrists, leaning away from you.

"What is it?"- you ask as you notice his lips trembling.

"I don't want this to be just fucking to you. I don't want to be a rebound. I want to have a real chance of a relationship with you, like we're starting from the beginning."- Felix's eyes are big as he scans your face.

Your chest tightens.

"I... Okay."- you nod. "But I need you now. I missed you."- you confess and it's exactly what Felix wants to hear.

"I missed you too. I thought I'd never see you again."- his hands cup your face as he talks between kisses. "I need you too."- he adds and kisses you more passionately as you tangle your hands in his hair.

Something in your gut feels wrong, something nagging at you in the back of your mind but still you let Felix take you to his bedroom. It looks exactly how you remember it and everything smells like him. He kisses you, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands holding your hips tightly.

You're drunk on the taste of him, it's all so familiar, so comforting that you lose your mind to his touch.

You grip his waist and turn him around, pushing him down to sit on the bed.

"Y/n..."- Felix lets out a shaky breath as you place your palms on his thighs, spreading his legs apart before you slowly kneel down in between them.

"Fuck..."- he whines as your hand comes in contact with his hard, clothed member. You grip him and move your hand on him, feeling him grow under your touch.

You don't want to waste too much time so you hook your fingers in his sweatpants and slide them down with his boxers and Felix whines as soon as the cold air hits his leaking cock.

You lean in and lick at his tip gathering the precum, swirling your tongue around until you take him in your mouth and suck gently. Felix grips at the bed, the sight of you on your knees, pleasing him like that makes his heart beat fast.

Drunk on the feeling of his cock heavy on your tongue you keep taking more and more of him in, swallowing and humming around him, driving him crazy with desire.

His hands tangle in your hair and he grabs a fistful of it, pushing his hips up and accidentally making you gag around him.

"Ah, shit!"- he whines as his cock twitches inside your mouth.

You bob your head faster and moans keep spilling from his lips as you bring him closer to the edge.

"Stop, stop, don't make me cum yet!"- Felix whines and you lift off of him, licking your lips and looking up at him through your eyelashes.

"Let me taste you too, sweetheart."- he says, his voice deeper than usually and his pupils blown, the nickname he always uses for you making your pussy throb.

Pretty soon, you're naked with him between your legs, his tongue lapping at you hungrily like he was deprived of actual food for months.

His fingers work to open you up as he sucks on your clit, tongue darting out to tease your wetness.

"Missed your taste."- his voice is muffled as he speaks into you, his eyes closed in pure bliss as he keeps eating you out.

"Lix!"- you whimper as your hips spasm towards his face, his fingers finding that gummy spot inside you. "Ah, don't stop."- you say and he speeds up, making your legs shake and your heart race as he keeps hitting that sweet spot, his tongue lapping at your clit.

Pleasure washes over you and you explode, squirting all over his face and the bed.

"Shit, sorry!"- you gasp and Felix chuckles.

"Don't apologize, that was really hot."- he smirks, fingers caressing your wet folds. "I guess this pussy really missed me."

"It did."- you whisper breathlessly, as he leans in again and gives you a few kitten licks.

"I missed her too."

"Felix"- you tug at his hair and try to lift him up. He looks up at you and smirks, his thumb on your clit.

"Want something?"- he asks.

"Don't tease me now. You know what I want."- you whine.

"Say it, sweetheart."- he says, his deep voice sending vibrations through you.

"I want your cock, please."- you give in immediately and Felix smirks triumphantly as he slides his hands up to cup your breasts, hovering over you. One of his hands grabs his neglected cock that's screaming for any kind of attention and he gives it a few pumps, the tip caressing your wet cunt.

You grip at his arm, nails digging into his skin as he pushes in, your pussy molding around the shape of him, the familiar stretch.

Felix loses himself as soon as he feels your warm, wet walls clenching around him and he fucks you with vigor.

"Oh my god!"- you whimper, holding onto him for dear life.

"Fuck, I missed you so much."- Felix whimpers, face buried in your neck as he keeps shoving his cock inside you, waves of pleasure making you feel like you're floating on air.

"More, more, more..."- you keep chanting.

"I love you, I love you, y/n."- he says desperately holding onto your hips, but you only moan in response as you spasm, your juices spilling all over his cock.

"Felix!"- you moan his name as he keeps fucking you, hips snapping into you strongly.

"I'm close. Can I cum inside? Please, let me cum inside."- he begs repeatedly and you've never seen him this desperate.

A brief thought of a rule runs through your mind, one that the two of you have already broken before. The one where you told Felix that he can't come inside you, only Hyunjin can, and your mind races, a pang of guilt hitting you again.

"Please, y/n, I can't hold it much longer."- Felix ruts into you sloppily.

"Okay, you can cum inside me."- you whisper, nails digging into his back as he growls lowly, hips picking up speed again.

Between his low grunts and the whispered 'I love you's', his hips stutter as he finishes, his hot cum filling you up and making you feel incredibly wet.

"You didn't say it back."- Felix whispers as he pulls out and lays next to you, facing you so you face him too.

"I'm sorry."- you whisper, tears threatening to spill.

"I'll wait for you."- he says.

"Okay."- you say as his hand gently caresses your cheek.

-

Felix promises he'll work on himself and on your relationship. You promise you'll work on yourself too and give this a real chance.

And you really try but deep down you know you don't love Felix the way you loved Hyunjin which makes you even more confused at why you even started the affair, and how you ended up sharing pancakes on a date with him instead of celebrating four years with Hyunjin.

Felix looks happy, the happiest you've seen him and you can't even count how many fake smiles you fed him. It's wrong and it makes you feel like an even worse person than before.

The box of stuff Hyunjin returned to you is buried deep inside your closet, still unopened and untouched. It's been a few months and you still can't make yourself sift through it or even just throw it away.

Whenever you're at home, you want to run away because your apartment still reminds you of Hyunjin, and you still can't let Felix in and you definitely don't want him in the bed you and Hyunjin shared. So you go to Felix's place but whenever you're there, he's there and he doesn't want to leave you alone for a moment, and his apartment just reminds you of the many times you ran into his arms behind your boyfriend's back.

Felix is too excited, too happy and you know he's not stupid, you're pretty sure he can feel that you don't love him the way he loves you, he's just trying to ignore it.

Maybe it's best if you actually start fresh, away from everything and everyone that remind you of the biggest mistake you've made in your life.

-

"Lix, can we talk?"- you start one afternoon, as you hang out in his apartment.

"Yeah, what's up?"- he asks, his attention on you.

Oh, boy. Even though Felix wasn't a saint, he didn't deserve to have his heart broken but the more you thought about it, the more you came to the conclusion that it would be best if the two of you went your own separate ways.

"This isn't something I'm doing just like that, it's something I thought over and over about and I'm doing this with a heavy heart- but I think we should separate. And for real this time. I mean actually never talk again."- Felix's face morphs from sadness to annoyance as he listens to you.

"Why would you say something like that? I thought we were making progress. I thought you-"

"Felix, please, just listen for a sec. I'm sorry but I don't love you like you love me. I care for you but that's as far as my feelings go."- you say and he looks at you like a kicked puppy. "I don't want to keep lying to you because I feel like I'm doing that constantly. I can't move on from what we did to Hyunjin, I can't heal or become a better person. Neither can you, because this isn't healthy. Our relationship was never healthy. And I think both of us are just keeping each other stuck and lying to ourselves thinking that this could work when it started out as betrayal to someone who cared about both of us. We can't build a healthy relationship on that. I said I'd give it a chance and I did but I can't do this anymore. Not to myself and not to you. I want you to also be happy and find someone who will love you properly."- by the time you finish talking, both of you are crying.

"I don't know what to say, y/n. It just hurts a lot to hear that you don't feel the same for me because I've been loving you for years. I know that I made the first move and I was wrong for that. I was wrong to come between you and Hyunjin. B-but I thought if he had a chance to start over, maybe you'd grow to love me. Obviously, I can't force you to."- he sniffles so you grab his hand.

"It's really over now, huh?"- he asks, squeezing your hand.

"I'm really sorry Felix. For everything."

"Me too."- he nods. "P-please just let me kiss you and hold you one last time."- he whispers.

"Okay."- you whisper back and Felix presses his lips on yours, the taste of salty tears making your heart ache. He puts his arms around you and holds you tightly. You hold him too, while you both cry. But it's better this way. It's better to start completely fresh, for all three of you.

"I'll always love you."- he whispers.

"I know you will."- you whisper back and Felix smiles sadly.

He watches as you walk away from the window, lips trembling, still not completely aware that that is the last time he'll ever see you.

-

You're sitting on your floor crosslegged, the box Hyunjin returned in front of you.

You think it's time to finally open it.

You slowly lift up the lid and look into it.

It's like a time capsule of your moments together. There are three sketchbooks inside, filled with sketches of you. You smiling, cooking, sleeping, existing. Just you through Hyunjin's eyes. Cologne you bought him that makes you tear up because it brings up memories of his scent that he always left on your sheets and your skin. Shared jewelry he always got for the two of you so you could be matching. Couple rings you wore that made you remember all your friends teasing you that you got engaged within 3 months of dating. Your favorite t-shirt of his, the one he gave you to wear the first night you made love. Since then it became yours and Hyunjin loved seeing you in it, nothing else just the shirt and your pretty legs. There were tickets to art exhibitions you went to together, where Hyunjin would pull out his camera and take pictures of you and the pretty paintings surrounding you. Tickets to concerts you attended together, where you would dance like crazy and have fun like you had no worries on your mind. At the very bottom there were some photos. Photos of you, Hyunjin and Felix when the three of you first became friends. The smiles you had in the photos, pure happiness to be in each other's company, innocent and unaware of what the future holds.

You start crying as you put everything back in the box fast. You don't know how long you lay on your floor crying and hoping that this was all a bad dream and the three of you were still friends and your feelings weren't complicated and you didn't fuck everything up and no one's heart was broken.

But, sadly your reality slaps you in the face. The reality where you ruined your relationship and your friendship. The reality where you betrayed someone who loved you selflessly. The reality where you gave false hope to someone who cared about you. The reality where in the process of breaking hearts, you broke your own heart too. You hope one day you'll be able to pick up the pieces.

Today is not that day.

Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @selinia86 @ihrtlino @hash2013 @yongbokkiesworld @xxkhxndlelitexx

[dearly-somber]

RBF | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. slow burn, eventual romance, eventual smut, fluff, f2l (friends-to-lovers), pining, found family, high school!au

-> w/c. 1342

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. This one is pretty Yoongi centric, but it’s important for later installments (and also I wanted to build more on Y/N’s relationships with the pack outside of Jungkook heh).

-> warnings. Yoongi’s kind of a dick 💔

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Jun. 30th, 2022 @ 18:24

-> fin. Mon., Oct. 4th, 2023 @ 22:48

-> edited. Wed., Nov. 1st, 2023 @ 09:47

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

“Why does Yoongi hate me so much?”

Jungkook looks up from where he’s been sketching a picture of what he thinks your wolf would look like if you had one, a frown on his face. “Yoongi doesn’t hate you,” he says.

“He does,” you pout, pulling at a loose thread in your socks.

“He doesn’t.” Jungkook sets his sketchbook aside to give you his full attention. “Where’s this coming from?”

You sigh. “It’s gonna sound stupid…”

“It won’t.” Jungkook holds your hand. When you finally look up at him, you’re met with a boyish grin that melts your insides.

You sigh. “I went down to the kitchen earlier to grab something to drink…”

“Yeah?”

“And…��� You chew on your lip, sighing again before letting your thumb rub over the back of Jungkook’s hand in an attempt to calm your nerves. “And Yoongi was there. I accidentally bumped into him on my way out and he spilt coffee all over.”

“And he got mad?”

“Yeah.” You take a moment to get the words right, briefly reliving the older shifter’s scorn and flinching at the memory. Even just thinking about it has you biting on your lip to stop yourself from crying. “He got really mad. Started growling and cursing at me; shooed me upstairs… It’s the angriest I’ve ever seen him,” you whisper.

“Oh, angel.” Jungkook takes it upon himself to lift you up under your arms and set you back down in his lap. You’re surprised because, first of all, you never realized just how strong he is, but also because you find you don’t hate it as much as you should—nevermind “angel”.

Usually you hate being manhandled, especially into such intimate positions or poses, but you know deep down that you can trust Jungkook and his motivations, so you let yourself accept and bathe in his affection and affirmations.

You don’t mind when he guides your arms around his shoulders. You lean into him and let your eyes drift closed when his arms wrap around your back, holding you to his chest. “I’m sorry Yoongi hyung growled at you,” he says.

“It’s not your fault,” you mumble into his shoulder, already feeling lighter than when you’d sat back down next to him after the whole ordeal took place. “I just… I wish I knew why he disliked me so much. We’ve been friends for ages, now! Everyone else has warmed up to me already.”

Jungkook sighs, running his fingers up and down your spine as he thinks. The feeling sends shivers down your body. “Yoongi hyung is…protective. He’s had past relations with humans and it didn’t end well for him or the people he cared about. I’m not saying what he did was right, but there’s a reason he’s such a dick to you all the time,” Jungkook explains softly, trying and failing to subtly nose at the juncture of your neck.

You pull away from him as gently as you can, sliding off his legs. As you sit knee-to-knee with him, you settle your hands in your lap and stare. Thinking.

Finally, you speak. “Fine.”

Jungkook raises a single brow. “‘Fine’? What does that mean?”

“It means I get it. But he’s got his head farther up his ass than I thought if he thinks it’s an excuse for him to treat me like shit.”

Jungkook smiles with a fond shake of his head, sighing, “There’s the Y/N I know and love. There might finally be peace in the world once you and Yoongi start actually liking each other.”

You roll your eyes, laying back down as he reverts back to sketching. “It’s not my fault he’s got a stick up his ass. He needs to realize I’m not the same human who hurt him gods know how long ago. I might be more annoying, but I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

Jungkook smiles down at his sketchbook, muttering something under his breath. “It’s actually—“

“Y/N!”

“Oh gods,” you groan, hyping yourself up at the sound of Namjoon’s voice ricocheting off the kitchen walls, “what now?”

“Don’t be mean,” Jungkook chides, shoving you with his foot on your way out the door. You stick your tongue out at him, shaking your head with a dumb smile on your way downstairs.

“What’s up, doc?”

Namjoon frowns at you as you lean your elbows against the island. “I’m…not a doctor…”

“It’s” —you sigh, waving him off— “nevermind. What do you need?”

“Yoongi’s out back. He asked me to call for you.”

“Yoongi?” you ask skeptically, an eyebrow raised.

“Yep,” Namjoon says. “Off you go.” He shoos you out the patio doors like an old lady, disappearing back inside the house after sliding the doors shut.

“Great,” you mutter. You trudge through the wet grass and mud to the little backyard leading into the woods where the pack likes hanging out when they’re shifted (and sometimes even when they’re not. Ever since you came along, they added a little bonfire and a few camper chairs for when you’re hanging out with them).

As you near the backyard, you spot Yoongi sitting, in wolf form, on one of the several rock-slash-boulder formations surrounding what is now the bonfire pit, his fur dirtied from running while it’s wet outside. Under his mud-laden paws, you spot a dirty but otherwise intact article of clothing you thought you’d lost forever.

“Is that my Toothless sweater?” you ask, surprised. You thought you lost it after forgetting it in the woods the first time you were invited to go swimming in the river with them.

Yoongi’s ears perk up on his head as he raises his head to glare at you, dragging his tongue over his maw. He sits a little straighter the closer you get, watching you so close you can feel your heartbeat instinctively pick up its pace.

“I thought I lost this,” you mumble, wrapping your fingers around the stiff fabric and tugging to get it out from under Yoongi’s large paw. You utterly fail, because the dickhead decides to tease you by pressing down harder on it and refusing to budge until you’ve exerted all your strength, nearly sending you ass-first into a puddle of mud.

You glare at him as his wolf seems to snicker—shoulders shaking and tail wagging ever so slightly behind him.

“You know…” You rub the fabric between your fingers, contemplating whether or not you’ll get mauled to death and deciding you don’t actually care. “I like you when you’re like this.”

Yoongi’s head tilts to one side, his ears flopping. How dare he look so cute when he acts like you’re the devil more than half of the time.

“When you’re shifted,” you clarify. “Guessing your mood based off the way you hold your tail is much easier than trying to decipher your emotions based off your resting bitch face.”

Immediately, the backyard fills with a low, warning growl. Yoongi’s head is back to its righted position, but slightly lowered so you can see just how hard he’s glaring at you.

“You know what, no!” You clench your sweater in your hand as you point an accusatory finger at the rumbling grey wolf. “I’m tired of you bullying me, Yoongi. Not all humans are bad, you know!” You scoff at the way his eyes widen, comically round in this form. “I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone else! Jungkook loves this pack, and I love Jungkook.” Yoongi’s tail shoots straight up, ears perked high on his head. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.”

You pause, clearing your throat so you can muster up the courage to say, “He’s my best friend. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

Yoongi stares at you, but you can’t read his facial expressions—can’t guess what’s going on behind those burning cocoa eyes of his. Not even his tail gives him away. So instead of hurting your brain overthinking his reaction, you huff and storm off, leaving a very intrigued shifter behind to contemplate several things at once.

<- prev | next ->

[moronkombat]

Bi-Han nsfw alphabet? 🫣🧊

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Bi-Han is rather tender with his lover after having sex. He is quick to check on them, making sure they are comfortable and content. A large hand will encompass a cheek and his eyes will search his lover's before he pulls you close. His arms around you like a barrier to the entire world and its evils. He will protect you from them all

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

Bi-Han is proud of his face. Not because it a handsome one but becomes it is identical to his mother's. Her visage is painted on him, it all he has left of her to look at besides aging photos. As he ages he likes to think his mother would look this way too

His partner's hands. So much smaller and lighter than his own, so easily to be broken. Bi-han would never. Not in any lifetime would he harm his lover. Those hands are to be held, kisses and caressed

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Definitely prefers to finish inside his partner. It is much more intimate and personal for him to release himself within a place most warm and hidden. Bi-Han truly feels deeply connected to his partner when their natural essence mingle and flow together

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Is often plagued by "inappropriate" thoughts of his lover. There is a hunger behind his eyes that fill his head with tantalizing fantasies of the carnal variety. He will tell absolutely no one that he often thinks of his lover quite lewdly. He vents these thoughts through rigorous exercise and sparring with other Lin Kuei

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's a virgin Very inexperienced. Bi-Han found little use or time for engaging in sexualized behaviors. He is not partial to seeking out a bedwarmer or a temptation of the night. When Bi-Han loves, it is completely and truly and with the one person he holds dearest

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Very much so ever changing. The position often changes based on the opportunity that is in front of him. Though he is rather traditional and prefers missionary with his lover. It feels right when he can look into his lovers eyes, bodies pressed closely together. Bi-Han likes to be on top because he wishes to hold you close and shield you from all the horrors of the world

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Bi-Han is exceptionally serious in the bedroom. He will not incorporate humor as he finds it disrespectful to you and this private moment shared between the two of you. Bi-Han would never disgrace his lover in such a way

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Bi-Han is neat and groomed but not hairless. He makes it a point to keep himself trimmed and even as to not pester his partner by accidentally irritating them with prickly hairs. While he can grow facial hair, he almost always shaves it but tends to rush through it causing his skin to feel roughened

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Despite his rather grim and intimidating demeanor, Bi-Han longs to show his partner a perfect romance. The only problem with that is he is incredibly awkward in that subject. That will not stop him from trying and, if he's known his lover for awhile, he eventually finds a good pattern of romance. He shows romance through gestures and not words. Do not expect to hear him say those three pretty words. They are not needed when he holds you so tenderly as your bodies entangle and he whispers to you "my heart"

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Seldomly indulges in such acts but probably should. He does have "impure" thoughts of his lover very frequently and intrusively and they weigh on him. He mostly releases himself through exercise or roughly sparring with someone

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Marking- Bi-Han is rather "vanilla" on the surface but peal the skin further back and corruption lingers. While he will never leave a cut on his partner or anything that will tear the skin he does enjoy leaving those reddened circles where he kissed and sucked. He is very meticulous when placing them, always somewhere no one else can see. They are for him and you to feast upon their memories in privacy. He does not leave exposed marks as to not bring attention to you or disrespect you. Bruising tends to occur during sex due to the sheer size of pace of him. While he feels guilty bringing them about, there is something about seeing your skin so painted quite thrilling

Breeding/Pregnancy- This is one he will never admit. He'd rather choke on these words than confess to such a perversion. Yet he is so enticed when he thinks about getting his partner pregnant with his child, with his heir. He groans and his spine curls just thinking about it. Each time he cums within his lover, there is a betraying prayer that wishes for his seed to take root so that you may grow round with child. If his partner were to become pregnant, he finds them incredibly attractive. Probably more than he should

Size difference- Bi-Han is large and his lover is...so fragile and delicate. Barely can he fit himself within warm walls. It takes oh so long for him to completely sheath himself inside. His hand will lay upon your naval and there he feels himself moving, the very outline of him traced into his palm

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bi-Han will almost always prefer to take his lover in the bedroom. He does not allow anyone in his personal quarter. That is a place for him and now it is for you too. It means to be exposed and vulnerable to have another in his room with him. He finds this the perfect place to express his love to you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Bi-Han gets in the mood by his partner's appearance. A pretty expression, a graceful step a lithe build that seems so different than his own. He longs to take away those layers of clothing and take your body into his arms

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Bi-Han will not harm his lover. He will not lay a hurtful hand on them, he just can't. Never will he bring them pain. Bi-Han will only protect you from it

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He enjoys both but expects to give you oral more than receive it. Why? Because he sees how much you like it and how loud you get for him. Louder than sound your moans can be when he between your legs and that really riles him up. However, receiving is also very much so enjoyed and he tends to be rather noisy when you go down on him

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Bi-Han is a rather healthy mis between the two. He will be slow and sensual but also pick up the tempo when he starts to really get into the mood. Those are when he bruises to your hips are created as his own slam and collide into yours while teeth are bared or snagged against a lip and groans most guttural spawn in his throat

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Does not prefer them as he feels it does not allow enough time to truly experience each other fully. Will he outright refuse them? No but he does not seek them out at all

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Bi-Han is a cautious lover i will go down with this ship so taking risks are not exactly thought of. Will he experiment? Yes, as long as it brings no harm to his lover or makes him feel as though he is hurting them

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Seemingly unlimited stamina. This man is a bull made of steel and iron. He could continue all night and into the morning but he does not often do that as his lover tends to tire quicker than him

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He'd be open to the idea of them but ultimately unsure and a bit lost in terms of how to use them. He will need guidance and his partner to request their use. Otherwise, they do not even cross his mind

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A fair lover most of the time but he does succumb to those impish temptations. This mostly manifests during oral sex with his partner. He longs to hear your whines more and more and so he tends to draw out his methods when using his tongue

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Bi-Han groans and grunts frequently during sex and is not silence nor quiet. He not loud either, however. He falls somewhere in middle and begins to reach his most audible during a faster pace

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Bi-Han is prone to jealousy even if he and his partner have been in a long standing committed relationship. He simply cannot help but feel a twitch of annoyance when your attention is on another. He often glares at the one you are speaking with which doesn't go unnoticed. When he is feeling particularly jealous he will become vocal about it in bed by saying "you are mine and i am yours. this will be forever"

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Bi-Han is muscular, toned and very fit. His body has been built up and carved by combat and training. His arms are large and powerful, legs muscular and refined. Every part of his body showcases his exquisite physique. He is large in every way with his length above average and with a hefty girth to match

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is moderate. Not too high but not low. He fits comfortably in the middle. He and his lover do not engage in primal desires daily but typically do not go longer than a couple of days without it

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

His eyes do not close nor does he leave his lover in the bed. His aim to stay with them after each time he and you have sex. Bi-Han holds you to him but often says very little or nothing at all. Yet he does not sleep, not until you do. He simply enjoys laying in your comfort and love until you are ready to sleep

[mortallyshamelessgiver]

Friends with benefits

Trigger warning: not much just a lil smut and Y/n acting like a PUSSY.

Also English is NOT my first language and neither my second so i apologize in advance.

A buzzing sound was heard and Y/n's screen lit up in the darkness. A small yellow light was placed infront of her book, giving her enough light to read and write some information on her paper. Y/n was deep in her notebook, finishing her worksheet for the next day.

The buzzing sound however distracted her and she looked at her phone screen.

1 new message

She could already figure who it was.

Ellie:

R u home?

She looked over her small apartment. It wasn't too dirty.

Yes. Come over if you want!

She closed her book and opened her balcony door. The warm summer air came into her room. The sun was almost set and the balcony lights were on, which attracted all kinds of insects.

She turned her lights off and in the darkness she tried to find her way to the bathroom.

She looked in the mirror of her bathroom and took off her mascara, refreshed her concealer and put on her new lipstick. It wasn't hard to pick one of her perfumes, that were placed on her sink.

Ellies favorite was the one she had bought the day of the party that they had met.

Y/n sprayed the perfume on her collarbone and was immediately hit by the smell. A small smile had formed on her lips.

The relationship between her and Ellie is mutual. Well it was. Both of them agreed on one thing.

Just sex nothing else.

Neither of then had time for a relationship anyway, they were too caught up with college, their jobs and their own friends. But it was only a week before summer break.

Y/n finally had time to reflect their relationship. This had been going on for 4 months, and Y/n never thought that their relationship would last that long. But it did. And now it had started to cause unwanted feelings.

Her thoughts were disturbed, when she heard a knock on the door. Ellie was as pretty as ever. The only thing that gave them light was the bathroom light Y/n had forgotten to turn off.

As always, it started with a little kissing and pretty quickly, developed into a full on make-out session. Y/n felt good, everytime Ellie would call her pretty or hot. Tho the only times she said that it was while they were hooking up. Ellie knew Y/ns sweet spots, she would always kiss Y/n so gently but hard at the same time.

They rarely kissed on the lips.

It was way too romantical. But this time Y/n wanted more than just physical affection, she wanted it to be more intimate. Ellie had stopped for a moment, to take off her shirt. She wanted to continue where she left off but Y/n took her chin and kissed her on the lips. Ellie was taken back, but suprisingly kissed back. Y/n could feel the butterflies in her stomach intensely.

Y/n broke the kiss after a few seconds, and looked at Ellie, to figure out if Ellie was ok with the kiss. But Ellie kissed her back again, and continued their session, like always.

"Girls tend to fall in love through physical affection" Y/n remember what she had once heard in a podcast. Back back then she had rolled her eyes at that, but in that moment she felt so much in love.

Y/n was staring at the ceiling, while she was listening to the raindrops. Ellie was standing on her balcony, having a cigarette after their intimate moment. She threw a shirt on, and walked to her balcony, to where Ellie was. Ellie handed her a cigarette and gave her a lighter.

"There is something I want to talk to you about." Ellie raised an eyebrow.

"Im all ears"

Y/n took a puff off her cigarette and blew out the smoke. The soft summer rain had cooled the hot weather, and left an earthly smell which had calmed Y/n.

"I fear I have breaken our arrangement." She started.

"I don't remember signing one" Ellie says jokingly and brings the cigarette back to her lips.

"Ellie. I have-" fallen in love with you. She so wanted to confess, but like a coward she could not.

"I have been seeing someone." She lied instead.

Ellie stared at Y/n. After a long short while she nodded. "Alright then. We shouldn't see eachother then. Anymore. I was scared that you were about to tell me that you were in love with me or something"she joked.

Y/n breathed out, relieved that she didn't confess and she didn't make a fool out of herself. "Yeah i dont think we should anymore."

Ellie looked over Y/ns face, maybe hoping for Y/n to change her mind about her lover and come back to her.

They both smoked their cigarette till the end and once they were done, Ellie got up and left Y/ns apartment. The second Ellie shut the door Y/n frowned. She had ruined the whole relationship. Maybe it was for the better. Clearly Ellie didn't like her back but at least they wouldn't see eachother anymore.

But both couldn't deny the fact that there wasn't a sting in their hearts.

[shalomniscient]

having soft post-canon shalom thoughts someone sedate me………..

shalom who looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. to the sinners who’ve known her before everything, it’s frankly terrifying, because they know. they know the world-ending lengths shalom will go to keep you safe, alive. and that if anything were to happen to you, the seas would turn wine-red with the blood shalom will spill in your name.

on a lighter note, imagine slow dancing with shalom in your own home. she adores your touch, loves the feeling of your warm palms on her waist or on her back. she’ll loop her arms lazily around your neck as the both of you sway back and forth to the gentle music. eventually she’ll settle for resting her ear against your chest, listening to the steady beat of your heart as you hold her in your arms. kiss her forehead when she’s like this and she’ll practically purr in contentment.

shalom would definitely have her own flower garden. she may not tend to it herself, but she does spend a lot of time there crouched near the blooming lillies, a parasol resting lightly on her shoulder. when she comes back inside she’ll smell of earth and lillies, and she’ll laugh lightly as you nuzzle your nose against her neck, breathing in that floral scent of hers. there will always be a fresh bouquet in the dinner table vase, the white flowers as pure as the love she holds for you.

nsft utc—

while shalom loves indulging in more intense sessions which ends in one or either both of you crying tears of pleasure by the end of it, more often than not i think she likes to take things slow and in a more intimate way. like love-making instead of fucking.

if you’re thrusting into her she’ll have her legs wrapped around your hips, her fingers interlocked tightly with yours. the languid, slower pace lets both of you take it a little easier, and shalom uses this relaxed tempo as an oppurtunity to kiss you ceaselessly. she’ll let you pull back to pepper kisses along her neck and breasts for a while, but then she’s tugging you right back up to her lips again.

or maybe she’s sitting on your face, hands gripping the headboard as she shifts her hips back and forth while you devour her. one of her hands are intertwined with yours, while the other plays with her breasts, alternating between each one and pinching her stiff nipples. your other hand rests on her thigh, gently moving up to caress her hip and encourage her. she cums into your mouth quickly like this, hunching over with her eyes squeezed shut and lips parted, and fuck she’s so beautiful.

shalom doesn’t say i love you very often. she’s very particular about when she says it, because it means so much to her. she’ll show you in other ways of course, but actually saying it is something she saves for specific moments. like when she’s cuddled into your side post-coitus, her head tucked beneath your chin, your arm draped over her shoulders. she’ll breathe it out, a whisper of a kiss against your neck, her voice a little unsteady. her heart is full, so full of you, and it’s so foreign but she craves you, needs you. and when you whisper those words back to her, so soft and gentle and true it makes every horrible thing she ever went through completely and entirely worth it.

(don’t you know? you’re the most important person in her life.)

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Part 1 sorry this took so long, the heatwave melted my brain

It took far longer than either of them intended to make it to breakfast, mainly because once Eddie had finished making a mess of the both of them, he had insisted on washing Steve's hair for him, which honestly was the most blissful out-of-body thing that he'd ever experienced; but as the two of them walked down the boulevard together, brushing shoulders and for a lack of a better word, giggling, Steve couldn't remember feeling happier. 

Eddie had the most gorgeous smile and every time he directed it at Steve, god! he felt… lighter, like he could float away any second, but at the same time, just by that same smile, he knew without a doubt that Eddie had him tethered safely to the ground. 

And holy fuck if it wasn't just the best feeling! It wasn't something Steve had ever experienced before, because yeah, he's got Robin, but she's a steady kind of safety, he knows beyond doubt that they're two halves of a whole, she's his rock as much as he's hers and the day they met something just fell into place for both of them. And he has his little found family, he knows he can go home to them (or they'll come to him) any time, he knows he's safe in their embrace, like they're his shelter in a storm. 

But this is different, he barely knows Eddie, hasn't spent more than a few hours with him, but it's like Eddie has this protective bubble around them both, like they're floating along together in this impenetrable shield and the outside world means nothing when he's held in Eddie's gaze, and he just knows he's safe, he can feel it deep in his bones.

And jesus! when they kiss! He's never felt anything like it. It’s like he's filled with bubbles that not only pop but fizzle, like someone's dropped a bathbomb into his chest, letting it froth and effervesce, like it's rolling and twirling around churning up his insides in the most spectacular way, and he almost can't breathe because of it. 

It's fucking weird and glorious all at once. 

Too much and not enough and he never wants it to stop because he knows he's never felt this way about anyone before, hell he hadn't even known it could feel this way and it's kinda scaring the living shit out of him because what if the last few hours were all Eddie wanted, what if Eddie's here for a fun time and not a long time and Steve has to go back home and learn to live without feeling like this.

Eddie nudged him gently, snapping him out of his spiral into the abyss, his eyes landing on Eddie's warm affectionate grin, following his pointing arm to where Robin and Chris were in the cafe across the street, sitting in a booth by the window, leaning into one another across the table, deep in conversation and grinning brighter than the Nevada sun. 

Robin blushed deeply as Chris tucked a stray piece of her hair behind her ear, and Steve had seen that look before (usually aimed at him) but he'd never seen her look like that before, not with Jamie or Izzy and certainly not with Sammi ("Sammi with an 'i'", god he'd really hated her), because yeah she was blushing, that was nothing new, but she looked comfortable! She wasn't ducking her head, becoming all flustered and shy, no, she looked relaxed, confident even, like she'd known her forever. 

The pair were so engrossed in each other that neither of them even glanced up as the bell above the door jingled when he and Eddie entered. Robin completely missing the way Eddie’s hand fit so naturally into the small of his back as he guided him gently over to their table. Steve felt giddy from it, like he was floating on air! It was so incredibly intimate and a little bit possessive, like Eddie couldn't keep his hands off of him and Steve just knew it was going to be his main topic of conversation for at least the next century. 

Honestly, he couldn't even be that mad that she'd missed it, not when he saw how content and engrossed she was with Chris. He hadn't seen her smile that much since Vickie, which now that he thought about it was far too long ago for his liking. Normally on first dates she went for this cool, aloof thing, trying to push her real personality down for reasons Steve had never understood, but Robin was genuinely smiling, her real toothy, goofy grin as she chatted animatedly. 

And Chris seemed equally spellbound, eyes wide and nodding, giggly and captivated. Not that it was surprising to Steve, Robin had always had this otherworldly quality about her; his best friend was beautiful, anyone could see that, but if she was passionate enough about a topic, she seemed to glow and her voice alone became sort of mesmerising.

Like the one time they’d actually got to work early, during a particularly cold snap, and while they were waiting for Jeremy to open up, Robin had started to tell Steve all about Yetis and the difference between Bigfoot and the Abominable Snowman. Only what neither of them realised was that instead of having a ten-minute chat, they’d actually sat there for three hours. Unfortunately, they were already on their last warning for being late, so it had got them fired, but they weren't too bothered, the worst thing about it was trying to find a new job in below-freezing weather.

The girls only really looked away from one another when he and Eddie slid into the booth next to their respective best friends, both still dressed up to the nines, Robin's mascara all but gone, bits all down her cheeks from where she'd rubbed at it. But it was her beaming smile told Steve all he needed to know, she was elated, she'd had a brilliant night, she couldn't wait to relay every detail to him later, and oh my god, Evie, she's amazing, I think I'm in love!

That sent Steve's attention across the table, the two best friends seemed to be having a similarly telepathic conversation, their attention quickly turning away from each other back to Steve and Robin. But it was funny how Chris and Robin had almost precisely timed Steve and Eddie’s arrival because no sooner had Steve been reintroduced to Chrissy, "Eds' BFF, platonic soulmate and personal cheerleader!", the waitress arrived with food for the four of them.

Steve was kind of glad for the distraction of plates and cutlery and condiments because shaking Chrissy's hand had sent another vision into Steve's mind of meeting her and Eddie the night before and as far as he could remember he was being so embarrassingly obvious in his attraction to Eddie, that he'd barely taken his eyes off of him long enough to have the common decency to even glance in her direction. 

Being pathetically obsessed within the first five minutes, real smooth Steve!

They ate silently to begin with, happily just enjoying their meals; the food was delicious, and it had been far too long since any of them had had any proper nourishment. And Robin, his heavenly, wondrous Robin, had ordered his favourite dish, which with every mouthful was soothing the lingering aches of his hangover and given the blissed-out little moans slipping out of Eddie every now and again, he was clearly enjoying whatever meaty, eggy, goodness Chrissy had ordered for him.

Eventually though, sitting across from Eddie started to become just a tiny bit tortuous, especially when one particular groan, resonating from the back of his throat, brought forth a very clear vision of Eddie on his back in bed, making that very same sound as Steve kissed his way down his body. Fucking hell! 

Suddenly Steve wasn't all that embarrassed about whatever he'd done that'd attracted Eddie to him because he truly was a sight to behold, in bed or otherwise.

Steve's attention was snapped away from thoughts of naked-Eddie back to the cafe when Chrissy giggled, at what he wasn't sure, he could only assume it was an inside joke when Eddie elbowed her playfully, snorting and mumbling a whined "shut. up!" even though she hadn't said a word. His pretty dimples coming out as he shoved more food in his mouth, keeping his gaze on his meal and smiling reluctantly around his fork as she cackled beside him.

Robin nudged him under the table with her foot and gave him a look that said "this dork, really?" And Steve couldn't help but grin because yes this dork and his adorable cheerleader, if it were up to him they'd keep the pair of them forever because watching the two best friends tease each other was just too fucking cute! Almost like looking through a picture book filled with their rich history, their deep adoration etched into the smiles on every page.

Steve didn't know what it was about them, they just both had that something; Robin would call it an aura, but it just felt good to be around them. The happiness they shared together exuded, pulling you in rather than pushing you out and Steve just wanted to bask in it, like he was Yurtle and Eddie and Chrissy were the heat lamp.

Steve knew he hadn't always been the best judge of character, he'd been duped a time or two, but he trusted Robin's instincts, if she thought Chrissy was a good person, good enough to spend all night with, good enough to maybe be in love with, then Steve believed it unquestionably, because in all the time he'd known her she'd never been wrong about someone. 

She'd never liked Ashley and quite right too given the little rat was the one who'd been feeding HR all the reports that'd got them both fired. She'd hated Billy from the minute she met him, and well the less he thought about that the better. She’d felt the same abhorration for Carl, the electrician who as it turned out was wanted in several states for crimes he didn't like to think too closely about, given he'd left Robin alone with him. 

When, in a fit of desperation, Steve had joined a dating service and met Angel (or SheDevil as Robin liked to refer to her as) who as it turned out was one of his dads "business associates" who (for some sick reason neither of them could fathom) had wanted to sleep with Steve; Robin had gone berserk, they’d had a massive fight before he’d left for his date but even when he came back shaken and tempestuous, she never said I told you so, she just wrapped him up in a blanket, made him a hot chocolate and let him cry into her shoulder until he felt better. 

That was the day he decided he was always going to trust her gut unconditionally because it was clear she would always just know better than he did.

So Steve knew Eddie and Chrissy must be something truly special for Robin to be so comfortable around them, for her to let Steve get married because as much as she claimed she was powerless against his determination, they both knew that wasn't true. He was well and truly wrapped around her little finger and if she'd said no and meant it he would've trusted her intuition implicitly. She was his soulmate for a reason, not only because he wasn't entirely sure he could survive without her, but because she was the brains of the pairing; he still wasn't entirely sure how he’d managed to stay alive for the first two decades of his life without her.

He'd been so deep in thought that he started when Robin began chatting perpetually again; it was uncanny how she always did that, like she could almost sense that was thinking about her, so she’d just start talking, about anything and everything. He'd missed the white noise of her voice, like he always did when she was quiet, mainly because if her voice wasn't filling the space, his mind just had this tendency to run away with him, like a train on a track heading downhill. 

Although, he could’ve lived happily without the vicariously embarrassing blow-by-blow of the night before.

Apparently, the four of them had met each other in the third club Steve and Robin had been in, Steve had spotted Eddie across the room and immediately started his five-drink-Steve ritual of making it his mission to keep Eddie forever. 

No-one was more surprised than Robin when Steve's tactics had actually worked, her and Chrissy clicking over their mutual love and mortification they felt for their, platonic with a capital p, soulmates.

Apparently, nine-drink-Eddie had decided to ask twelve-drink-Steve to marry him, Steve, somewhat unsurprisingly, gave him a teary yes before he'd really had the chance to finish asking.

They were married by a man Robin was convinced was actually Elvis (nobody had the heart to correct her).

No-one could decide who should hold the bouquet, so they had one each, both girls caught Eddie's, whereas Steve, for all his sporting prowess, managed to hit the receptionist in the face with his, getting them promptly thrown out of the chapel.

Steve was already half naked before they'd even made it back to the hotel, it was undecided who'd undressed him. A mystery only Vegas knew the answer to. They’d made it across the hotel lobby by the grace of god and because Chrissy had played her "help the pretty blonde card" with the guy at the front desk as a distraction. 

Robin had no more details for their night, but Steve was pretty sure he could piece the rest of that together himself, he was just glad the lift had been empty after all. 

And the girls had had a whale of a time after they'd ushered the newly-weds off to bed, they'd carried on to several venues, including a drag show, another wedding (one that was actually planned for longer than five minutes!) a concert, three more bars, and finally headed back to the hotel.

"And then Chrissy rang Nancy! Oh my god, Steve! It's such a small world, right, 'cause Eds and Chris are from Indy too. It's crazy we've never met, huh? But anyway, we were thinking how funny would it be if Eds' dickhead ex opened the paper this morning to find out he's already moved on, and not only that, moved on with the King of Hawkins High himself! 'Cause Eds' ex is from Hawkins, like you! I bet you knew him! But yeah, turns out Chris knows Nancy, you know, your Nancy and well..."

Robin was definitely still speaking, but Steve's ears had started to ring again, not because his head was hurting but because he was pretty sure he was about to throw up! Nancy had put their wedding announcement in the Indy Independent, the very paper everyone he'd ever known read, including his parents! Not that he cared what they thought, but going from fired to married in a little over a week was a twist even for him. And Hop and Claudia! They were going to go absolutely mental! And the kids! At least they’d probably find it a little funny, unlike Hop who’d blow his top for sure.

Well, that's one way for everyone to find out! And no doubt Nancy found it beyond hilarious.

He and Nancy hadn't parted on the best terms. They'd broken up during a massive argument two days before their first anniversary, apparently he'd wanted more than she could possibly give him because she "just couldn't imagine staying with the same guy forever", only for her then to start up with her photographer boyfriend a few weeks later and as far as Steve knew they were still together all these years later, so that was obviously utter bullshit. 

When Steve had continued babysitting the kids they'd tried to be friends, well given how little time they ever spent in the same room together, he supposed that classed as them trying to be civil, mainly for Will and Mike's sake, but Steve was grateful when Jon and Nancy had moved away after graduation.

And Steve didn't see them again for a long time, it was just sods fucking law that he happened to bump into them right after everything had imploded with Billy. 

Robin had finally convinced him to go with her to a club she knew, he hadn't really wanted to be there in the first place and seeing Nancy again was the last thing he needed, feeling far too sore for the pitying look she gave him, he'd kicked off big time, trying to get her to admit that the real reason she'd left him was because he was just unlovable.

It wasn't his best night, and given she'd left in tears, it probably wasn't hers either. So he's no doubt she found it laugh-out-loud pathetic that the only way he'd eventually got married was to a total stranger while off his tits on holiday.

Steve glanced over at Eddie to see he'd gone white as a sheet, he gently called his name a couple of times, but he seemed to be in a world all of his own. Steve wanted to reach for his hand, but he wasn't sure how Eddie would react to that, and he didn't want to freak him out more, so he left his hand palm up on the tabletop next to Eddie’s hoping it was enough, leaving him a clear indicator that his comfort was there if he wanted it.

Eddie stayed in his trance for a few more minutes before a car drove past the restaurant, bouncing light through the window, causing Steve's ring to glint in his vision. That seemed to snap him out of it, Eddie all but throwing his hand into Steve's, gripping it tightly.

"Dan knows?" Eddie's voice shook with what sounded like disbelief. Steve, worrying he might burst into tears any second, started rubbing his thumb soothingly along Eddie’s knuckles.

Steve thought back to all the Daniel's he'd known in high school, couldn't think of a single one of them good enough for Eddie, and although King Steve wasn't good enough for Eddie either, at least he'd made the effort to become a better person.

A person who could maybe be good enough for someone like Eddie, with his resplendent smile and his inspirational laugh, his wondrous voice and wicked tongue. But clearly Dan hadn't bothered to grow, he'd stayed the same small town jumped-up dickhead that thought he was too good for the remarkable man in front of him.

More fool him! 

Dan's loss and hopefully, if he played his cards right, Steve's gain.

Steve brought his other hand up to join the first, so he was cradling Eddie's hand in both of his, trying to be as comforting as he could from across the table, but then Eddie had started to laugh, deep and brilliant and merry, as though it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

"Oh, ho, ho! I wish I could've seen his face! I wonder if Jason took a picture? We could get it framed! OH! Album cover!" Eddie was practically vibrating in his seat, Chrissy joining in with his raucous laughter.

Steve looked at Robin, she looked equally baffled, oh good it's not just me! 

As much as Steve wished he had a clue, it was nice to see how easily Chrissy matched Eddie's energy, bouncing up and down next to him, waving her arm frantically, "Oh, no, no, no! Stage backdrop!" she managed between peels of laughter, making Eddie laugh so hard he started banging the table with his free hand, desperately trying to catch his breath.

Chrissy looked across the booth, quickly catching his and Robin's confusion, sucking in a deep breath and jumping right into regaling them with stories of Eddie's early music career. Of Corroded Coffins' humble beginnings, practising in Jeff's garage and playing to disinterested patrons of their local bar. How they'd caught a break getting a regular gig in Indy, how they'd been discovered by a scout who just happened to be passing through. How they'd been on the edge of stardom, only for Eddie to have his dreams squashed with the promise of forever that never came to fruition, no matter how much Eddie conformed to Dan's every demand.

Steve listened in awe, Chrissy was an excellent storyteller and Eddie turned a beautiful shade of crimson whenever his best friend praised him, but Eddie's demeanour changed as the story became heartbreaking and all Steve could do was squeeze Eddie’s hand tighter; he knew what it was like to live with a dream squasher, someone who wanted to mould you into what they wanted you to be, instead of loving you for who you are. Not that he could understand how anyone would want to try to change Eddie, or how anyone could want to take anything away from him; or how anyone could see how happy his dreams made him and not want to do everything in their power to make them come true.

He could tell Robin was equally fascinated, but Vegas was clearly catching up with her, she was desperately trying to fight sleep, nodding off and shifting, staying awake for a few minutes to keep listening to Chris' stories but nodding off again. When Robin nearly face-planted her empty plate, Chrissy interrupted herself to suggest they head back to the hotel. 

Not that Robin wanted to leave their company, she whined and protested, but quickly settled as soon as Eddie suggested they all meet up in the evening to go to a concert. Steve didn't quite catch the name of the artist, but from the way Robin bounced on the balls of her feet, he could tell she was excited about them. Steve didn't care if they were going to see the Queen of England's attempt at a comedy gig, Rick Astley repeat Never Gonna Give You Up for two hours straight or an elderly man give a talk about growing tomatoes, he was just happy to be spending more time with them.

It was hot out on The Strip, the sun high in the sky, bathing them in light and making Eddie look almost ethereal as he walked quietly by Steve's side. Eddie wasn't looking at him like he had been when they'd set off to the restaurant, he was glancing around at all the sights of Vegas, so Steve felt free to really look. Even looking at Eddie's profile knocked the breath out of Steve like a smack to the chest, he was just so beautiful, Steve felt more like he was looking at a piece of art than a human being. 

Eddie’s hair wasn't just brown, in the sunlight Steve could see it was a mix of every colour, blondes and reds and browns all intermingled in his little ringlets. Neither were his eyes, they were speckled with gold and amber flecks that shone and sparkled as the light reflected from them. His pale skin was slowly turning pink in the midday heat, making a multitude of tiny scars on his face and neck shimmer. Steve wanted to kiss every one, he wanted to know the stories behind each mark, wanted to heal the past hurts with gentle caresses. 

How could anyone ever want to hurt you?

With that thought, Steve's mind couldn't help but wander to Eddie and Dan's relationship, he just couldn't get over how endlessly unfair it was that Eddie had had to go through a relationship like that. Being in love with someone who didn't love you back was terrible enough, but being with someone willing to manipulate you into giving up your dreams, into becoming a whole other person out of desperation to be a good partner then to have the nerve to publicly blame you for the demise of the relationship, was just horrific. 

Eddie didn't deserve that, he deserved someone willing to hang the moon and the stars for him.

And as much as a sick part of Steve understood the desire to want to keep Eddie all to himself, to keep his voice all for himself because when he thought back to the way Eddie had drawn him in without even making a true effort, Steve knew that if Eddie sang with intent the whole world would want a piece. But he supposed the difference was, he understood how selfish it would be to do that, to stand in Eddie's way of making his dreams come true, to not actively help him to actualize those dreams, to stop him from sharing his gifts with the world! 

Eddie drew him out of his musings by bumping his shoulder into Steve's, a warm, playful smile on his face that Steve couldn't help but respond to, gesturing behind them with his eyes. Eddie seemed delighted when Steve snuck a glance over his shoulder at Chrissy and Robin; they were holding hands, Robin, getting more drowsy with every step they took in the intense heat, was practically being held up by Chrissy, not that it had any effect on the dopey smiles they were directing at each other. 

"Adorable" Eddie mouthed when Steve's gaze flicked back to him, he couldn't help but agree, even if he did feel that little twinge of jealousy that the two of them could be so freely wrapped up in one another. Apart from when he was dating a girl, Steve never felt confident being openly affectionate in public, he always felt like it needed a big conversation about what the other person was comfortable with, and then he was accused of overthinking everything and making it weird.

He knew it was down to the way Billy had treated him and the thing was it made sense back in Hawkins but when they'd moved to Indy they lived in a safe part of town, he saw couples just being themselves all the time but the one time he accidentally grabbed Billy's hand during a thriller at the cinema, he'd acted like it was the end of the world, like Steve had doomed them somehow and when something so small causes your partner to temporarily move out it's bound to make you self-conscious.

Steve was glad when they arrived back at the hotel, he was fine in the sunshine, other than the time when he was fifteen and he'd fallen asleep in one of his sun loungers for eight or so hours, he never burned, but Eddie's cheeks already had a permanent pinkening and Robin may as well be a vampire she burned so easily, Chrissy had rosy cheeks now too, but he wasn't sure whether that was down to the sun or Robin's affection. 

The lobby air conditioning had perked Robin up like a slap to the face, she was back to chattering easily with Eddie, telling elaborate stories of her marching band days, waving not only her own hands about but Chrissy's too where she hadn't realised she hadn't let go, not that Chris seemed to mind. Steve couldn't help but smile at them, they were too cute; even Vickie eventually became tired of Robin's rambling, she’d learned ways to discreetly quieten her, but Robin noticed, of course she did, it was the reason for the first time he'd ever seen Robin cry, but Chris just seemed enchanted, it made Steve's heart happy.

Steve was trying to keep track of their conversation, but his brain was blanking, now they were back in the midst of the hotel he was suddenly uneasy, every second that ticked by, every step they took was one closer to having to part, but they couldn’t linger, it was check-in time so reception was manic with pushing and shoving and people vying for attention. Steve was glad when the lift dinged so they could be away from the hubbub, the doors sliding open like a welcoming embrace. 

Seeming to sense his change in mood, Eddie snuck his hand into the small of his back to guide him into the lift, immediately calming Steve; Robin noticed, falling silent halfway through her sentence to poke Steve hard in the ribs, smirking and mouthing, "adorable" at him. 

Steve let out a breathy laugh and blushed deeply, melting further when the doors slid closed and Eddie snaked his arms around Steve's waist, propping his chin on Steve's shoulder. It warmed his heart to have him so close, to think that maybe he was equally anxious to be apart. Eddie snapping out of his contemplation by laughing heartily when Robin looked at the two of them with feigned disgust, but it didn't take long for her to turn into an adorably blushing mess as soon as Chrissy did the same thing to her.

With two floors separating them, the foursome found it incredibly difficult to part from one another, Chrissy wouldn’t let go of Robin’s hand and Steve was leaning against the doors forcing them to stay open for as long as possible while they checked and double-checked and triple-checked the arrangements for meeting up later in the evening. It was only when an elderly couple wanted to use the elevator that Steve reluctantly let it go, he and Robin staring forlornly at the closed doors for several moments before sighing heavily and turning to head to their room.

Robin headed straight to the bathroom for a shower, muttering under her breath about everything being wet. What could he say? They’d had fun! He knew she didn't really care about the state of the bathroom from the amount of times she'd showered with the door open in her apartment so they could continue their conversation, she was just filling the space to ease him.

Steve flopped down on his unmade bed, sucking in a relaxing breath, thinking about how brilliantly fucked up his life had become, and half listening to Robin's grumbling, letting it soothe him. Then when he felt brave enough, he put the phone on speaker and let the messages play.

Beep. "My Little Bobbin, you forgot to call! Give us a ring before your mother has an aneurysm! We love you!" Beep.

Steve could hear Robin creasing up in the bathroom, he felt guilty that he'd forgotten to remind her but her parents knew her too well, they’d only start to really worry if they didn't hear anything after a couple of days but they’d know from the fact that they could leave a message that they'd checked in and now she'd been reminded Robin would call them back when she was done in the shower.

Beep. "Steve, honey, Dustin’s driving me insane, will you please remember to bring him that book he wanted? I can't remember the name. Earthshaker! call him, will you? he misses you. Okay, love you, bye." Beep.

Beep. "Steven. Darrrling. Having fun in Vegas? Dad's got you a lawyer all set up, so don't worry! Call us back so we can start proceedings." Beep.

Beep. "Steve, it's Hop. *sigh* Is that Steve? No, he's not there. Call me, we love you." Beep.

Beep. "Steve, honey, we saw your announcement. I'm glad you're having fun but maybe give Hop a call? El says he's pacing! Don't forget my book! Dustin! Have fun with your husband! Send our love to Bobby, bye!" Beep.

If there were more messages Steve didn't hear them, between Robin chattering over the sound of the shower and listening to the messages from his family, Steve nodded off with a contented smile plastered to his face.

Part 3

----------

tag list @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @adhdsummer @newtstabber

[venomous-ragno]

I've posted these before but Tumblr's tag system is buggy so it's not showing up for ppl, which is a shame cause if this dynamic rots my brain y'all have to suffer with me

Ghost x reader x Soap headcannons

I take requests btw;)

Tags: Ghost x reader x Soap, sfw, gn!reader, fluff

Warnings: None

Gif by @collinnmckinley

• Brothers in arms, these two have developed a bond that goes deeper than that of just any comrades. They work like a machine, gears oiled and intertwined, always moving forward and further into unknown territory.

• Ghost and Soap aren't romantically involved, but they don't mind it if it's the other. Both know and respect the other's boundaries; Gaz once called them psychics for understanding each other without so much as words exchanged.

• Their lives are anything but conventional so why shouldn't their relationship be too? It's a strange idea, sure. Much to your surprise though neither seemed taken aback or even shocked at the suggestion - not in the slightest, for they agree on more things than they disagree on.

• If you ever go on a mission with them and the team gets split up, both Ghost and Soap would find solace in knowing you're with the other, that you're well protected even in the face of death.

• Ghost and Soap are two different types of love; Ghost is more of a calm, quiet lover. No big words or pda but rather small acts of service and quality time. Ghost remembers all your quirks, all your likes and dislikes by heart. He prides himself in knowing you better than anyone else, reads you like an open book, and slowly... Opens up in and about himself, too.

• Soap is loud, if not a bit boastful. He doesn't mind calling you sweet nicknames, throwing a flirty line or two over comms. His love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch, and he isn't shy about giving nor receiving. He's quite sensitive to personal space and highly receptive of your emotional state.

• You know that Ghost has a hard time conveying his thoughts and feelings. Hell, he can't even decipher them himself most of he time. Comes with the life he agreed on living, doesn't make it any more frustrating when he refuses to elaborate on decisions he's made.

• Soap understands you both. He's had his fair share of troubles with the stoic Lt, and thus acts as a mediator. He jokingly calls himself the "peacekeeper of the 141", taking the deadly stares from both of you with stride.

• Ghost and Soap often share late night talks. It's an intimate moment between these two on an emotional level: Let the stars be witness to their hopes and dreams, their frustrations and fears, let their heart get lighter until the sun shines on them and reminds them of the hardships daylight brings.

• It's nights like those where Soap nudges Ghost in the right direction when it comes to you. Gentle but stern pushes towards an apology, in whichever form it may come in, Ghost's words carry nothing but candour. Be patient and he'll do his best to learn.

• "Live as if you're dead", they say, but how can one not feel alive when you love pulses hot through their veins? They should know better. They should know better than to let themselves fall for you like so and yet they're utterly powerless, for no knife may cut that damned red string.

Bonus:

Price raises a brow at whatever you three got going on, but chooses to remain ignorant as long as it doesn't affect work. If anything, he finds amusement in it; how the three of you bicker back and forth, how your dynamic confuses everyone not sharp enough to catch on. Besides, he's won quite a few bucks over drunken bets with Gaz - and he gets to see Simon more often too, rather than Ghost. A bonus if anything.

[g0dspeeed]

WIP MOOD BOARD: R E S P I T E

Rules: show a moodboard and an important phrase or dialogue from the current fic you are writing!

His dark eyes floated to the burning cigarette between her fingers, lingering with a thoughtfulness that piqued her own. She expected him to admonish her for it, for smoking-- "Those things are bad for your health" and the like. Thin lines adorned his eyes and some strands of silver colored the scruff of his beard. Maybe he was a killjoy, she guessed. Maybe he was uptight. But despite her empty presumptions, he didn't say anything.

"You like to stare," reflected Cappie with a smirk before taking another drag.

The man tracked the motion from the other side of the bar top. She could feel his stare on her lips, but unlike with other men, Cappie wasn't disgusted by his attention. There was an unspoken confidence in his shoulders and in the glint of amusement in his eyes. She could dig it.

When he returned her challenge, the man leaned closer. He gifted her with a honeyed hint of his cologne.

"I'm waiting," said the man with a smile that matched her own. His accented voice was heavy and rich like the gold chain around his neck.

"For what? An invitation?"

"Yes."

A quiet war was waged between them, both strangers smiling and dangling bait. She was a flirt through and through. Always was, always would be. Cappie gave in, for how could she not?

"An invitation for what?"

A bit smug from his victory, he reached into the breast pocket of his brown, leather jacket. From it, he retrieved a metal Zippo, the side of which was engraved in a language Cappie didn't understand.

"An invitation to light your next cigarette. That one is almost out, so I was waiting for you to smoke again so I could offer to light it, and then if you agreed, I'd ask for a smoke. And if you said yes and gave me a cigarette, then I'd ask you later--"

"Oh there's a later--"

"Of course. I'm not leaving unless I have to. Because later I would ask if I could smoke with you, alone, and I would go with you somewhere private. Maybe dinner. Maybe just the front of this bar. I don't know. I don't care. It doesn't matter, because then I would learn your actual name, and I would bask in the opportunity to know you more--Do you speak Russian?"

Cappie, whose cheeks burned from his forwardness, blinked at the question before finding the words.

"No. No, can't say I ever had a reason to," she chuckled.

That quirked the corners of the man's lips and alit his eyes with something warm.

"Good."

"That's rude--"

"For awhile it will be," agreed the man, watching as Cappie extinguished the butt of her cigarette in the ashtray. Just as he said, he flicked open the lighter when Cappie slid a new cigarette to her full lips. "But, fear not and know that I will only tell you deep, intimate things I think about you in Russian, things that I would be embarrassed for you to know--"

"Bullshit."

"Never. I won't bullshit you. Not much, because ya uznaiu lyubov kogda vizhu yeiu."

Their eyes locked, glittering from the small flame of his lighter between them. Cappie released the smoke, the white wisps fanning over her agitated expression. She knew what his answer would be should she ask, that he wouldn't tell her what the hell he said, but she'd rather try than not. After all, it wasn't every day that she gave a shit what the men at her bar told her.

"And what does that even fucking mean?"

The man beamed, delighted in her response, and offered the bartender his hand. After a miniscule of hesitation, Cappie went to shake it, humored when the stranger turned her hand. A kiss, gentle and warm, was then delivered to her knuckles.

"Learn Russian, beautiful, and you will know. You can call me Nikolai. Or whatever you want, so long as I hear you calling for me."

Still fleshing out how they meet, but I like this so far ❤️

Tagged by @icecutioner , @inafieldofdaisies , @socially-awkward-skeleton , @cloudofbutterflies92 💕

Tagging @noodlecupcakes , @la-grosse-patate , @carlosoliveiraa

@scorpiosleeps , @josephseedismyfather , @voidbuggg

@voidika , @strangefable , @cassietrn ,

@simonxriley , @imogenkol , @aceghosts

[d34dlysinner]

Valefor x reader

I am clearing my drafts so. Instead of deleting this I'll post it. Will probably post more drafts or fics I wrote soon.

A short drabble of Valefor and MC facesitting. Will probably make this a proper fic later on since I liked this idea-

KINDA SMUT SO, Minors DNI

Hope you enjoy!

~AFAB, GN MC~

Valefor was in shock when you asked to try something new out. It was very lewd, yes. But he honestly loved that you felt comfortable enough to have him eat you out while you sit on his face.

The only problem is… He never showed his scar. The reason why he was wearing this mask.

He didn't want to creep you out or make you feel guilty since he heard from others that human morals and beauty standards are 'stricter' than demons.

"… I would love to, but…", he started as he started to think of what you'd say when you saw the scar.

His hand went up to his mask as a reflex. You understood that he was somewhat insecure of whatever happened to his face. and maybe he wanted to take his time getting comfortable with you.

"We don't have to do it no-", you started but were cut off by the tall man.

"I would love to, but will you promise to not hate me when you see the scar?", he asked.

The question was so absurd that you had to rethink about what he said.

"Hate?… Val… I could never hate you.", you said as you were bewildered by his choice of words. 'Hate'… A guy like him? You could never hate him.

"What made you think that I would?", you asked.

"I just heard that humans have less tolerance to certain things and just… That they wouldn't like seeing or showing these things?", he responded.

You didn't understand how a loud, happy and handsome guy like him could ever say something like that to you.

"Val… I wouldn't hate you or turn away from you. No matter how bad it is.", you said.

Those words were all he needed to return to his happy state.

"If that's true then- Yes! I would like to try that with you!", he said loudly.

He didn't waste any time dragging you to his chambers as he took off the top of his clothes and hesitantly took of his mask.

The scar was serious, but it didn't mean that you'd refuse him.

"You're handsome.", you said as you gave him a deep kiss. He gladly returned the kiss. Pulling you against him while helping you strip down.

Valefor felt lighter. Not because he discarded the armor he always wears, but because you didn't even flinch when he first showed you his full face. He was totally smitten when it came to you and you could notice it. He seemed so soft, happy and at the same time very needy at that moment.

He slowly pulled away from you to lie down.

"Ready?", he asked as he held you by your wrists. Tugging very lightly to ask if you want to start it now.

He waited while you moved up and lined your most intimate place with his face. He gave you a reassuring smile when you looked down.

He lightly blows air, making you shiver, before he made a long path of saliva over your thigh to your pussy. Stopping at your clit to lightly suck on it and soon after release it.

He adored the tiny sounds you made and how shy you seemed at that exact moment. He used his strength to pull you down before he started his onslaught of licking, sucking and nibbling.

He grunted as he felt his length grow and press against his trousers. That moment he thought that he needs to prepare you well before having you take his length.

His eyes closed as he continued eating you out. He enjoyed your taste just as much as he enjoyed the small sounds you made. He watched how you started to sweat with excitement. You were all he wanted to focus on at that moment.

[tharmrs]

{ more than ever }

// more than ever i see the real you, and it surrounds //

| clive rosfield x fem.reader |

summary: where clive comforts his love in her time of need.

word count: 767

the soft sounds of crying were all clive rosfield could hear when he was suddenly roused from his deep slumber.

there was a coldness felt coursing through his veins, an unnatural lack of warmth that caused him to awaken so suddenly. as he opens his eyes, he was achingly aware of how much lighter his chest felt, alerting him of the fact that his beloved had somehow awoken in the middle of the night and left him.

clive could feel his heart aching at the thought, nearly breaking when he thinks back to how strange his lover was acting as of late. each time he came back from his duties as a knight, the more his beloved would seem to retreat back into her shell.

yet still, she always kept that same beaming smile on her face. despite how it never seemed to reach at her eyes, she was always quick to reassure him that she was fine and was merely tired, is all.

but he knew his lover well.

he knew of her tendencies to keep to herself and hide her own burdens so as to not worry anyone else.

wanting to give her the space that she needed, clive respected her wishes and didn't try to pry about her true feelings. he remained ever so loving, ever so patient with her as he simply waited for her to come around and tell him of her feelings.

and he supposes tonight was a breaking point for her.

not wasting another second, clive shoves back the quilted blanket, his bare feet landing against the wooden floors of their shared home as he softly cries out her name. he hears a hiccup and a few sniffles, further prompting him to find her.

with his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the cottage, he looks towards the living quarters and feels his heart aching at the sight that was settled before him. there his lover was, curled up in a ball as her bloodshot eyes met with his concerned gaze.

"oh love, c'mere." clive takes a few steps towards his beloved woman, reaching out to her as he immediately takes her in his arms. with her pressed so intimately close against his bare chest, clive feels the way she buries her face within his skin. as if wanting to bask in his warmth, he feels her lips press a gentle kiss against his heart, making it flutter with its rapid beats from the confines of his chest.

"i'm sorry." as if his mere presence was enough to comfort her, clive listens as her sobs settles down, like a storm turning into drizzling rain as he could feel her pressing kisses against his skin. "i-i had been struggling with some dark thoughts these past couple of weeks, and i am so sor-"

clive then cuts her off the moment she began to apologize once more, leaning forward to press a bruising kiss against her parted lips. he relishes in her sweet sighs of his name, allowing her hands to cling to his broad shoulders as he continues to mold his lips together with hers. he slants his lips perfectly, slotting them together with hers like a missing puzzle piece as she moans against his kiss.

he thinks back to all of the times she has been there for him, through his darkest memories pertaining to his fallen kingdom and the loss of his father and brother. during that time, clive really felt as though he wanted to end himself, to somehow reunite with those that he loved-

yet it was her who stopped him; her who loved and cherished him and saved him from his own darkness.

and could he really call himself her lover if he couldn't do the same with her?

he was the first to pull away from the kiss, eyes looking deeply into her own as he lets out a soft murmur of her name. "i love you, my darling. always remember that. it was you who saved me from my own darkness, and i will always be grateful for the fact that our lives had crossed paths long ago."

clive embraces her even tighter then, pressing a kiss against the crown of her hair as she slowly began to cry once more while in his arms. "nothing has changed, cry as much as you need to. let it all out, i'm here, i'm here."

with the two lovers being comforted by their mere presence alone, time steadily passes by, further strengthening their bond as they knew that they could never and would never part from each other.

fin.

------

do not repost; plagiarize; or translate.

[ladykiller-yt]

SEXY PROPOSAL

Crowley and Aziraphale are in an intimate moment in bed, they are kissing passionately while their pelvises are joined. The room is filled with gasps and moans. They are happy and they know it. In one of the many thrusts into Aziraphale, Crowley lets out a sentence he never thought he would say.

C:"Ohhh...fuck angel...yes...aaah...let's get married."

They stopped and looked into each other's eyes, embarrassed. Crowley pulled out of Aziraphale without finishing the act, leaving him visibly upset, sitting on the edge of the bed still naked.

C:"Sorry, I...I don't know why I said that."

A:"Wait Crowley..."

Crowley grabbed his clothes and ran out of the house. He felt stupid, he was going too fast, once again.

He sat down on the bench on the porch, making a cigarette and a lighter appear and starting to smoke. Meanwhile, quick footsteps approached him.

A: "Tell me why you left like that? And then put something on because it's cold."

C: "I'm fine like this."

He took a drag.

A: "Would you please look at me? Come on Crowley, look at me."

Aziraphale took Crowley's face in his hands.

C: "Listen, I just let it slip. I was so caught up in the pleasant moment between your thighs that I let a few words slip out."

A: "So it was just a moment? You don't really want to marry me?"

C: "We've only been together for a year, asking you seems like a rush and I know you hate it."

A: "Okay maybe you didn't see it, but I had a couple of spasms after you came out of me and left. Your proposal enticed me so much that it made my dick even harder."

C: "So I'm not rushing for you?"

A: "Well, you just asked me, that doesn't mean we have to get married tomorrow, right?"

C: "No, you're right."

A: "So if we want to wait, I'll be happy to do it. I'm happy you asked."

C: "So your answer is yes?"

A: "If we go back to the room and you ask me while you're inside me, I might even say yes."

Crowley picked Aziraphale up, kissing him. They went back to the room, undressing again and wrapped themselves around each other, making the sexual act more pleasurable and lively than before. Like an erotic game.

C: "So, angel...will you marry me?"

A: "Yes..."

C: "Say it again."

A: "Yes...yes...aaah."

C: "Yes what, little angel?"

A: "Yes...I want to marry...you...oh god...please."

Crowley turned Aziraphale on his back, admiring that perfect ass. He entered him quickly and with gusto, feeling how wet and hot it was. It was always like that when they had sex. Aziraphale hot and wet and Crowley hard and wet.

C:"Do you want it, angel?"

A:"Yes Crowley...yesss."

C:"What do you want angel?"

A:"To be your husband...aaah."

C:"Yes?"

A:"To love you...aaah."

C:"Yes angel...more."

A:"To honor you and..."

C:"Come on angel..."

A:"Aah...aah...and respect you... Crowley, I'm close."

C:"Don't...stop."

A:"Until the end of time...oh fuck."

C:"Fuck...fuck...yesss."

Crowley came inside Aziraphale as they both stained the sheets with semen. They had just had the best sex ever. One thing they often did after making love was hold hands and intertwine their fingers. When Crowley pulled away from Aziraphale, he lay on his side, looking into each other's eyes. Aziraphale, still lying on his stomach, looked at Crowley, still panting, and moved a lock of his hair.

C: "That was nice, we should do it again sometime."

A: "Absolutely."

C: "Come."

Crowley invited him into his arms in a tender and warm embrace that Aziraphale did not refuse at all.

A: "You have no idea how good I feel, cuddled up to you."

C: "You make me feel good too, angel. I love you."

A: "Awww... me too, so much."

[kabie-whump]

✧･ﾟRipe, About to Fall - Prologue (18+) ✧･ﾟ

This works as a stand-alone, but it is also the prologue to the rest of the story! Aka some good old fashioned pet whump.

Title from 'Liquid Smooth' by Mitski

✧ Series Summary and Warnings ✧ Masterlist ✧ Chapter summary: The story of how Ventis met Athos, and how he came to be Athos's pet. ✧ Chapter warnings: Manipulation, gaslighting, drug use, drug addiction, drug withdrawl, forced drug use, needles, conditioning, power dynamics, intimate whumper, caretaker turned whumper, hallucinations, begging, dub-con, sexual content, coercion, drugged sex, dehumanization, blood mention *The sexual content is not super explicit but it is there! Ventis does not resist or have any thoughts of not wanting it, but he is on drugs and clearly unable to fight back so be warned.*

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Ventis's POV, 3 years before Part 1

They met in a tavern near the docks. 

It was a safe, familiar place to Ventis; comforting after he’d made the long journey from his home kingdom to wherever the fuck he was now. He’d traveled for days with no goal, no destination. He just knew he could never go home again.

Ventis placed his head in his hands, staring down at the empty tankard in front of him. The mead here was good at least, although he’d always preferred wine. But no amount of mead was going to cure the ache in his stomach or the trembling in his hands. His nightspill supply was nearly out, and his pockets were lighter than they’d ever been before.

Gods help this poor city if he ever were to run out. He could already feel the lightning crackling hot under his skin.

“Excuse me. Mind if I join you?”

Ventis shrugged. The stool next to him squeaked as it was pulled out.

“You seem troubled, friend. Can I buy you a drink?”

Fine. If this man was so eager to speak to him Ventis would humor him for a moment. Besides, it would be a good idea to have friends in this city in case he ends up sticking around.

The first thing Ventis noticed was the man’s clothing. He wore a fine suit, fairly plain to the untrained eye but Ventis did consider himself to be an expert in this sort of thing. The man’s jacket alone probably cost more than the homes of some of the tavern’s patrons. 

“Thank you,” Ventis said with a nod and a forced smile. 

The man ordered him another mead and nothing for himself.

“My name is Athos Landleigh.” He said it proudly, holding afterwards like he was expecting some sort of reaction.

“Ventis Riinturuth. My apologies if I’m supposed to recognize you. I’m new to this city.”

“Ah, I had thought that might be that case. Your face is not one I would forget. What brings you to Nimbria?”

Ventis’s tankard was refilled and he stared down at the honey colored liquid. It had been days, but it still pained him to talk about it. “My father is a lord in the north. We had a… disagreement, and now I have been banished.”

Athos rubbed Ventis’s shoulder, scooting closer to him. “I am sorry to hear that, friend. I won’t pry anymore, but I will offer you my company for the night. Let us drown our sorrows.”

Athos still didn’t have a drink. Ventis didn’t think much of it.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. He drank - far more than he was supposed to - and he didn’t pay anything. He laughed with Athos, leaned heavily on Athos as they walked out to a carriage, fell asleep on Athos’s shoulder on the ride to his house.

When Ventis woke up, he thought for a moment that he was still at home and this whole ordeal had been just a bad dream. But while these silk sheets were superb in quality, the pillows were just a bit softer than he liked them to be and he didn’t recognize the fit of the night clothes he wore. 

What he did recognize was the familiar craving that ached deep in his bones. His whole body trembled as he forced himself to sit up and look for his bag. Lightning arched between his shaking fingers in little threads. The bedroom was huge and well furnished and still dark thanks to thick curtains, but his bag was easy to locate on a cushioned bench at the end of the bed. 

It was the last pill. Ventis took it with reverence before he laid back down in the bed, closing his eyes and waiting for it to kick in. He tried not to think about what would happen tomorrow, when the cravings came again and he could do nothing to cure it.

It was just starting to kick in when a maid entered, drawing the curtains open to let in the light and setting a tray of fresh fruits and pastries on the bed. She asked him how he liked his tea. Milk and sugar. 

Ventis ate and drank alone, blinking the heaviness out of his eyes. It was hard to resist his usual post-nightspill nap, but he didn’t want to risk disappointing his gracious host if he was expected to be seen before late afternoon. A footman brought him some well fitting clothes later and helped him get dressed, and he felt right at home.

Athos greeted Ventis with a warm smile when they next saw eachother, standing and welcoming him into his study. 

“You have a beautiful home,” Ventis said as he settled into a plush armchair next to a burning fireplace. “Thank you for allowing me to stay the night. And thank you for the clothes and the food.”

Athos joined him in the chair adjacent. “I would never allow such pleasant company as yourself to freeze on the streets. I have rooms to spare, and I am always glad to help a friend.”

He seemed like such a nice man.

They got to talking, discussing Athos’s work and Ventis’s family. Athos offered Ventis a tour of the manor and Ventis obliged. He admired the lush courtyard garden and the gilded ballroom and the massive library. This was a place he would be glad to stay if given the chance. 

“This is lovely. Do you play?” Ventis picked up a golden flute from Athos’s vast collection of instruments, examining the intricate carvings on its body.

“Unfortunately musical talent is not something I have been blessed with. I am merely a collector of pretty things.”

Ventis missed the way Athos eyed him up and down, too enamored by the flute in his hands. 

“May I?”

“You play?”

“The piano is my favorite, but air genasi do tend to have a way with wind instruments. It helps that breathing is not a necessity for us.”

Athos’s eyes lit up with interest. “You don’t need to breathe?”

Ventis shook his head. “I mean, I do breathe instinctively. But if I am concentrating I don’t need to.”

“Fascinating. Please, play for me.”

Ventis did as he was asked, playing a lilting melody on Athos’s flute. The man watched intently, a small smile forming on his lips. He applauded when Ventis was finished. “You’re amazing, Ventis. You must play more for me someday soon.”

The two spent the day together, and they hit it off well. They shared a love for the arts and for the finer things in life, and they ended up spending long hours in the library pouring over Athos’s collection of poetry books. When the sun set and Athos invited Ventis to stay overnight once more, Ventis didn’t hesitate. 

⋄✧⋄

The pain woke him up as it always did. He forced himself to sit up, going through his usual morning routine of blindly grabbing for his bag and pulling out the glass jar that held his nightspill. But when he went to dump one into his hand, nothing came.

Right. Empty.

Ventis groaned and fell back into the mattress. Thunder rolled through his bedroom, mocking him with a taste of what was to come.

Maybe he could sleep it off. Sure, he’d been taking nightspill every day for five years now, but he was stronger than a little pill. Hopefully it should only knock him out for a few hours. He just had to sleep it off.

But he couldn’t sleep. Every single one of his senses was working on full power. His nerves were on fire. The shadows in the corners of the room began to waltz with each other.

Oh good. Hallucinations. Perfect.

“Good morning sir.” The same maid from yesterday entered, putting down his breakfast and opening the curtains. Ventis curled away from the burst of sunlight with a groan, his head pounding. The maid rushed to his side. “Are you sick, sir? You don’t look well.”

Ventis took a shaky breath, trying to compose himself. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to let Athos find out what was really going on. The man might make him leave, and he wouldn’t make it on the streets in this state. Besides, nightspill was an illegal substance in most places. “Yes, I am sick. Please don’t touch me.”

The maid retracted her hand. “I’ll go tell the master, and we’ll call for a doctor.”

“Not necessary,” Ventis forced out. “I can get over this without a doctor.”

“If you're sure...”

Ventis was left alone again. He pulled the thick blankets over his head, still shivering.

It wasn’t long before Ventis felt the mattress shift as someone sat down next to him. He peeked out from under the blankets to see Athos’s worried face. The man reached out to brush hair from Ventis’s forehead before he could warn him not to.

A thread of electricity crackled between Ventis’s skin and Athos’s fingers. It was a small shock, not anything that could hurt Athos severely, but it still surprised him and he jolted his hand away quickly with a gasp.

“Sorry,” Ventis said quickly. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t touch me.”

Athos shook his hand out, staring at Ventis with confusion clear on his face. “What was that?”

The features on Athos’s face began to shift around sickeningly and Ventis squeezed his eyes closed. “I’m a sorcerer,” he admitted. “I can’t control it when I’m… when I’m sick.”

“You need a doctor.”

“No. Please. It won’t help.”

“Why not?”

Ventis didn’t answer. A high pitched ringing invaded his skull.

“My friend.” Athos’s voice was warm; comforting. “Tell me what is happening. I promise you are safe here. I just want to help you.”

It hurt too much for Ventis to continue to fight. He didn’t have the energy to lie anymore. “I’m out of nightspill,” he whispered.

Athos was quiet for a moment. Ventis still couldn’t stand to open his eyes, but he could hear the man’s fingers tapping a quick rhythm on his leg. “I understand,” he said finally. “You just stay here. I’ll take care of everything.”

Ventis couldn’t bring himself to respond as Athos left the bedroom. The pain was only getting worse with every passing moment, and he was starting to hear things that he was fairly certain weren’t really there. He pulled the covers back over his head, stifling a sob.

Ventis couldn’t be sure how long he laid there, drowning in misery. His whole body hurt. He was somehow both freezing cold and burning hot at the same time. Voices of people he knew for sure he had left back at home echoed in his mind, haunting him.

He was dying. He wanted to die. 

A pair of gloved hands grabbed Ventis’s arm roughly, pulling him out from under the covers. He cried out in protest as a new wave of pain tore through him with the movement, shoving weakly at whoever was touching him. 

The prick of a needle, an intense pressure in his arm, and then relief. 

⋄✧⋄

When Ventis woke up he could almost believe that nothing had happened. His whole body was sore as he sat up and there was a bruise and a tiny bloody mark on the inside of his elbow, but otherwise he felt completely normal. 

He wanted answers. He didn’t bother changing out of his night clothes before he left the bedroom, venturing into the manor in search of his host. 

He found Athos in his study with a quill in his hand and papers laid out neatly across his desk. 

“Ventis! It is good to see you up. You gave me quite a scare this morning.”

“Apologies,” Ventis said, flopping into an armchair. “Thank you for…” He paused, his memory failing. “What exactly happened?”

“It took a little time, but I acquired some nightspill for you,” Athos said simply. “I wasn’t sure if you prefer the pills or the injection, but the injection works the most immediately. I have enough now to last you a few weeks I imagine, so we don’t have to worry about this happening again for some time.”

Ventis could barely comprehend that someone would go through that much trouble - would do something illegal - just to make him feel better. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Athos.”

“Any time, Ventis.” Athos went back to his papers with a pleased smile.

Then Ventis's mind caught up to the rest of what Athos had said. “Wait, a few weeks?”

“Yes, about that.” Athos stacked up the papers he had been writing on and went over to kneel next to where Ventis sat. “I drafted a proposition for you while you were resting.”

That clarified nothing. “What sort of proposition?”

“I would like you to keep an open mind as we discuss this,” Athos said, making pointed eye contact with Ventis. “Can you do that?”

“I can. What’s this about?”

“I told you before that I am a collector of pretty things. And if I may be honest, Ventis, you are absolutely exquisite. Not just in your appearance but in your artistic abilities and your personality. I have grown rather fond of you in these past couple of days, and I would like to add you to my collection.”

Ventis’s mind was still foggy from the nightspill, but he was thinking clearly enough to recognize the unsettling feeling that sat heavy in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t like the way Athos talked about him - the way he compared him to a “pretty thing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a simple exchange, really. You live in my manor with me. I provide everything you might need - food, clothes, nightspill. You may read or write or practice music to your heart’s content. You will want for nothing. In return, you allow me to own you.”

Ventis’s heart sank. He should’ve guessed that Athos was too good to be true. He stood sluggishly, his head spinning. The nightspill Athos had given him must have been much stronger than what he usually took.

“I should go,” Ventis said, heading for the door. “I am sorry for wasting your time, but I am not interested in being owned by anyone.”

Ventis’s back was turned, so he could not see the sneer that crossed Athos’s face. 

“Where will you go?” the man asked simply.

Ventis paused at that. Where would he go? He had very little money, no job, and starting tomorrow morning he would be back in the throes of nightspill withdrawals. “I will figure it out.”

“You will not make it out there, Ventis. I understand that your mind is clouded by the nightspill, but please try to think rationally. You have no other options.”

Ventis turned back to look at him, panic rising in his chest. Athos was right. He wouldn’t be able to fend for himself. "What would you be, then? My owner?"

“I prefer master.”

Ventis felt sick. His entire being rejected the idea of calling this man his master. “I can’t sell myself. I won’t.”

“It’s alright, Ventis. I won’t force you to accept my offer, but I also won’t force you to perish on the streets. So I will offer you a deal. You leave right now. Walk out the door and do your best to make it on your own. My home will be open to you if you realize that you can’t do it. But if you do come back to me, you sign this,” he held up the stack of papers he had been holding, “and you will be mine. Do you understand?”

“You will not see me again,” Ventis said firmly. “Goodbye, Athos.”

⋄✧⋄

He didn’t even last two days.

The remaining gold in Ventis’s pocket was enough to buy himself a room in a cheap inn for a few nights. He played the piano for some tavern guests in exchange for food. He struggled to sleep on the thin, hard mattress, but he promised himself he would get used to it. 

What ruined him was the nightspill. The withdrawals set in with ferocity the morning after he left Athos’s manor, and his determination to ride it out didn’t keep him from screaming into his pillow when the waves of pain became unbearable. Rain poured down in sheets and thunder roared overhead, but the storm was centered just over the inn in a perfect circle and it didn’t take the owner long to figure out the source of it and kick Ventis to the curb. 

He found an alleyway to huddle in, curling up against the wall of a building to try and steal some of the warmth from inside. The angry winds that whipped around his shivering body did nothing to help, and covering his ears with his frozen hands did nothing to block out the voice of his father, taunting him for how far he had fallen.

Somehow Ventis managed a few hours of sleep. He didn’t know it was possible to feel worse than he already did, but by the next morning he was praying that some merciful deity would take pity on him and end his suffering. Hallucinations had made a playground out of his mind and there wasn’t a single moment that he wasn’t in complete agony.

He was too desperate to even feel shame as he collapsed against Athos’s front door that evening. A guard dragged him inside and deposited him on a couch in the foyer, and Athos met him there moments later with a smug grin on his face.

“Welcome back,” Athos said, kneeling in front of him. He was already holding a vial of nightspill. “Have you realized the reality of your situation?”

“Please,” Ventis rasped, weakly extending his arm.

“Ah, not yet. You have to fulfill your side of the bargain.”

A quill was placed in his hand, already dripping with ink. The words on the paper held out in front of him swam around, completely illegible, but he didn’t care to read them. He found the line that Athos was patiently pointing to and scribbled his name there.

“Good boy,” Athos hummed, patting Ventis’s head with a gloved hand. “Now, what do you say?”

“Please,” Ventis said again, tears streaming down his face. “Please, Athos. You were right. I can’t survive on my own. I need you.”

“Not quite, pet. What do you call me now?”

“Master,” Ventis corrected quickly. “Please, master.”

“Better.”

Ventis sighed with relief, baring his arm again. Athos considered him, then checked his watch with a shake of his head. “I really would rather give you your medicine in the mornings from now on, so you’ll have to wait until then.”

What? No. That wasn't the way this was meant to go.

Ventis sobbed, grabbing for Athos’s jacket sleeve as he moved to leave. “No! Please, you promised!”

“Aw,” Athos cooed, stroking Ventis’s hair. “My poor, pathetic pet thinks my promises mean something to it. Don’t worry, dear, you’ll adjust to the way of things soon enough.”

With that he pried Ventis’s hand from his sleeve and stood, brushing himself off. “Take him to his room,” he said to a guard. “Don’t let him leave.”

Ventis continued to sob as the guard scooped him up and carried him away. He had thought that if he gave up his pride and returned to Athos that the pain would stop. He had depended on it. Athos’s refusal to cure him until tomorrow just cemented the reality of what he had signed himself up for. He was an object now, completely helpless to Athos’s whims. 

The guard laid Ventis on his bed and stripped off his dirty clothes with cold detachment before she left, the door locking audibly behind her. Ventis buried his face into a plush pillow and cried until he fell asleep.

⋄✧⋄

The sharp sting of a needle woke Ventis up the next morning. He struggled to open his eyes against the wave of dizziness that followed - a strong current pulling him back towards sleep. He shivered as the blankets were removed from his naked body, but the cold was quickly replaced by soothing warmth as strong arms lifted him and submerged him in a sweet smelling bath. 

Ventis finally managed to drag his eyes open, his head lolling back on the edge of the tub. Athos sat on a stool, smiling gently when their eyes met.

“Good morning, treasure,” Athos said, leaning in to kiss Ventis’s forehead.

Ventis made a confused sound in the back of his throat but did not pull away, barely able to move his own body. Some tiny, muted voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to run, to fight, but he couldn’t fathom why he would do that when this bath was so warm and the nightspill made his limbs so heavy. 

“What happened?” Ventis managed to ask, his words slurring.

“No need to worry your pretty little head about last night’s unpleasantness, my dear,” replied Athos. “Everything is okay now. Just relax and let me get you clean.”

Ventis complied, closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift off as Athos scrubbed him clean of sweat and dirt and occasionally manipulated his position to ensure he reached every inch of skin.

Hands wandered unexpectedly under the water, but it didn’t feel bad and Athos assured him that everything was fine, that he had nothing to worry about and he should just trust him and let it feel good. Even when the hands went somewhere no one else’s had before and left Ventis gasping and squirming involuntarily, Athos's voice was a constant stream of soothing praise and comfort. 

"You look beautiful like this, pet. Ah- stay still for me. Don't struggle. That's it. This is what you're good for.

Part of him felt like crying. The rest of him had to admit that it felt good, and he couldn't stop himself from arching into Athos's touch, tipping his head back lazily to bare his throat. 

"See? This comes naturally to you. You exist to please me. To be pleased by me."

Ventis nodded mindlessly. Maybe Athos was right. Why should he bother worrying about anything else when this was so easy? All he had to do was please Athos and everything else would be okay.

After the bath Ventis was seen by a whirlwind of people: a hairdresser, a tailor, a manicurist, all of whom cooed over how pretty he was and how he was nearly perfect already and how lucky Athos was to have him. He found himself preening at their compliments, even though he was slightly confused by the way they were all addressed to Athos as if he wasn’t even in the room. 

By the time they left Ventis was dressed in ornate white robes that were beautiful but more revealing than anything he’d ever dressed himself in. His skin had an unnatural glow to it, and his hair was soft and perfectly styled. He looked like a doll. He felt like one too. But Athos showered him with praise, and something about the genuine pride on his face made Ventis smile sleepily. 

By the evening Ventis’s mind had cleared somewhat and Athos sat him down to actually read his contract. Horror and disgust piled in the pit of his stomach with every line he read.

He’d literally signed away his autonomy to Athos. He was barely allowed to breathe without permission from his "master". Athos was permitted to do anything he would like to Ventis, and he had to take it. And there was no end, no deadline after which the contract would expire. He was stuck like this forever or until Athos got bored of him.

“Copies have been made and hidden away, all in different locations. You will gain nothing from destroying this contract, so don't try,” Athos said, reading the disgust on Ventis’s face.

“I hate you,” Ventis whispered.

Athos laughed it off. “I will allow you to say that this one time. The next will not go without punishment. But really, pet, do not condemn this life before you’ve tried living it. I am going to make sure you are very comfortable here, and introduce you to unimaginable pleasures. You will be much happier if you just accept it and play along.”

Ventis couldn’t bring himself to respond. His shaky signature mocked him from the bottom of the paper.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Part 1

Would it be crazy if the prologue had multiple parts also? Like, just whumpy little scenes from Athos's and Ventis's time together. I'll probably do it I just don't want to timeline to get confusing y'know.

Ventisposting taglist (aka a list of people who i want to bake cookies for):

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump

Let me know if you want to be added!

[always-sleeepy-headd]

Some sort of emo Cross shit idk what

Summary:

The Bad Guys were never very accepting of people, Cross however, they straight up didn't like. The bullying goes on and Cross can barely take it, he uses knives and lighters to ground himself but... he goes to far.And passes out, only for Killer to find him.Aka, the story of how Cross became the gang's favorite emo.

Notes:

I'm not sure if I like this story or not, I got a little lazy at the end.

Also I'm romantically in love with Cross if you can't tell with how much torture I put him through

________

Cross wasn't happy.

Far from it actually.

Not that it mattered, he only lived to serve now.

Cross wasn't treated well either.

Not that it bothered him, he deserved it for all he's done.

Every member of The Bad Sanses treated him horribly, or well, mostly.

He has seen kindness through their eyes, mostly directed at someone other than him but on occasion he's seen it towards him.

Nightmare, he was someone that could stand Cross.

Killer seemed not to have an opinion on Cross, maybe that was due to his soul but it made Cross's life a little easier.

Nightmare had touched Cross before, it startled him and he jumped backwards, almost throwing up then and there. That was a time Cross got a look of sympathy - dare he say a look of understanding.

Killer has engaged in conversations with him - that Cross with admit were in fact mostly one way, but he's not to blame for being too scared to speak to someone that if you gave any information to will immediately relay it back to Nightmare, he'd rather just talk to Nightmare if that was how it was.

Dust doesn't speak to him, the best he'll get is a glare or a shove. (Last time Dust shoved him he almost went into panic mode because Dust brushed his stomach and that was one of the especially bad places to touch him, too... Intimate.)

Cross doesn't have an opinion on Dust other than that.

Horror is so nice... to everyone except him, he always feeds him though so he can't be too bad.

Cross has a bad relationship with food, he goes out of his way to hide it though.

Horror clearly wants Cross away, he doesn't know why but will respect it he supposes.

Cross spends his days in the training room or avoiding everyone the best he can in the libraries scattered across the manor, never hiding in the main one because Nightmare spends most of his time there.

He's read hundreds of random books since he's arrived here, it's funny because back in his AU he never had time to realize his passion for books and surprisingly - science.

He's taken to reading books about random scientific ideas trying to explain the unexplainable, it's beginning harder and harder not to add something to that heater to keep it from breaking always.

Cross hates it when the heater breaks.

He recently has been going around and just fixing things if nobody's around, he refuses to anywhere near that kitchen in fear of Horror though.

He has fixed that damn heater about eleven times in the past three weeks, Nightmare has caught onto it by now, he fixes it so quickly that no one usually even notices it's out.

Cross hates the cold, he always can tell when the heater turns off because of even the slightest temperature drop, he's extremely sensitive to it.

Cross isn't the type to complain though.

Not now, not ever.

Which brings us to today, and Cross's newest, but at the same time, oldest problem.

Self harm.

He, per his usual routine, was walking through the halls of Nightmare's manor in his usual defeated way, headed right to the training room to overexert himself some more when he felt the strong urge of pain call to him.

His arms felt a little too cold.

He stopped dead in his tracks as the screeching for a lighter to cross over his bones felt more and more welcoming and kind.

It was so loud that it drowned out even Chara, the demon.

He needed to burn it all.

He turned around, he wouldn't deal with them today, he needs to cut and burn it all out.

And that he does, Cross walks back to his room, the feeling of icy death crawling up his bones again, the heater must have broken.

He'll deal with it later.

When he finally gets to his door, the castle is freezing, a cold Autumn's day upon them. He pushes his door open, not caring for the loud thunk it created as it slammed onto the wall opposite.

He almost falls over at the gust of wind, but that might have been an overstatement.

He closes his door with a slow unsteady hand, collapsing onto the back of the door as it closes. It was so cold, so, so, cold.

He wanted to stab himself right then and there.

Cross crawls to his box of... special things, it consisted of lighters galore, god forbid one stopped working and he didn't have another one. He also had knives of all shapes and sizes, as well as some products for if he went too far and was worried of an infection.

Hydrogen Peroxide, cleaning wipes, the high end stuff that doctors would use, and several bandages and bandaids.

He slips his knife out, pulling up the sleeves of his only protection to the freezing cold outside, he gasps as a breeze hits his bare bone. Staring

at his arm and the many healing wounds and scars, he pressed the knife into it, a sigh of relief escaped his lips, he was so tired; so, so tired of the bullying.

He presses it firmer and drops - little prickles of blood, began to form around the blade.

Cross looks at it and scowls, it's sad he cannot think of a way to handle this that would have him sustain less physical wounds, but he is yet to find something that helps the itch as this does.

He's pathetic.

Disgusting.

And a waste of space.

His father taught him that at least, if anything at all.

Ah, his father, the reason he has this brat Chara whispering insults and the occasional concern, which has been happening quite a little too often for Cross's liking.

The man who abused him through closed doors and behind the prying eyes of society.

The scars on his body - his body not theirs. The scars on his pelvis, not some normal scar that he would've gotten from being in the royal guard.

Purposeful.

Horrible.

Like him, he supposed.

He adds another to the collection.

He wants to vandalize himself, what's the point in not if he's already broken? His father already destroyed what was left of his fragile ego.

Cross suddenly feels the strong urge to burn himself, maybe cauterize his wound, so he takes the lighter and burns.

Tears fell down his face from the pain, he felt perverted in a way, the pain hurt so strangely, so lovely.

Suddenly, he stands up and is immediately hit by an extreme wave of nausea and dizziness. He's freezing cold yet burning hot at the same time, he stumbles.

He falls.

His head hits the corner of his desk and it all turns black.

...

Nightmare wasn't stupid, he knew how the others were treating Cross, yet he felt he couldn't - or more shouldn't interfere. Nightmare was however unaware of Cross's self harm, Nightmare didn't know everything.

He didn't know the extent of the bullying, he didn't know the effect it had on Cross, he didn't even know that Cross was capable of doing the things he does to himself.

But he sure noticed when Cross didn't come down for dinner.

The dinner table was silent, Horror glancing at his empty seat occasionally, Dust glaring at his seat believing Cross was being selfish for wasting such food that Horror poured his intent into making. And Killer? Killer was playing with his food with his fork, per usual. Nightmare knew of Killer's strange way of punishing himself when he knew Nightmare was keeping a close eye on him. He couldn't hurt himself in secret, maybe he could hurt himself plainly out in the open.

"I hate to be the party pooper," Killer says, looking bored. "But our newbie isn't exactly where he's supposed to be right now."

"We noticed." Dust grumbles and Nightmare sighs.

"I suppose someone should check on him." Nightmare says, because surely, that thump earlier was Killer doing something stupid and not him.

"I'll go." Killer says quickly, it was an excuse from the table, and he was nicer to Cross than Dust and Horror.

Again, Nightmare sighs, simply waving Killer off, planning to deal with him later.

Killer skips out of the room, humming a tune that was almost a mix of 'Frosty The Snowman' and 'Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer.' It was that time of year for him already.

The walk through the halls to the living quarters was a long one, not that Killer minded, he liked walking in the halls, they always seemed to twist in a new way each time he walked through them, as long as he had been here for.

When he reached Cross's room, he leaned over and knocked thrice, a smile on his face and deep despair in his soul that he couldn't quite reach.

When Cross didn't even make a noise, the smile fell. He was certainly in his room because that's what Nightmare had said, hadn't he? Killer couldn't remember, but he was almost sure Cross was in there, and he had heard a thump earlier...

"Cross?" Killer yells for him, keeping a light and playful voice despite his confusion. "It's dinnertime!"

Still no noise came from his room.

"I'm going to come in there if you don't answer." Killer says, pressing his ear up against the door to see if he could hear anything at all. Killer sighs when there's no noise, "Fine, I'm coming in!"

He opens the usually locked door, and walks a few paces in before gasping. "Fuck! What the hell happened?!" He says, shock spreading over his face before he rushes to Cross's side. "Cross?!" He yells, shaking him, "Can you hear me?!"

Cross didn't respond and a sinking feeling set deep in Killer's soul, "Jesus, you better not die on us randomly..." He says, frantically looking around for something to stop the bleeding in his head before noticing the box.

"... What the hell is this..." He mumbled, looking through the lighters and knives - all sharpened. He grabs some of the bandages but gives up in untangling them in a second. Then he notices Cross's arms.

"Holy shit..."

...

Everyone at the table was sitting in silence, Dust and Horror were whispering to each other when Nightmare gasps.

"Nightmare...?" Horror mumbles in question.

"Killer is... in extreme distress." He says standing up quickly, "The situation may be more serious than we thought."

"What do you mean?" Dust says, standing up as well.

"I'm not sure," Nightmare sighs, "But Killer is really screwed up over something, I must make sure they're okay."

"We're coming with you." Dust says, Horror standing up next to him with a nod.

"Hurry." Nightmare says, and the three rush out of the room and through the halls to Cross's room.

When they got there they found the door wide open with Killer mumbling a low curse. "Killer?" NIghtmare says, a sense of urgency deep in his voice.

"Fuck- Nightmare get in here!" Killer says, with the same urgency.

Walking in the sight they saw startled them all, Cross was on the floor with a large head wound, his arms covered in blood and healing wounds that seemed to all be cauterized.

"Holy crap..." Dust mumbles and Horror looks on in horror. (Whoops)

"Shit." Nightmare says, before running over to Cross and checking him over. "He's... fine, well, not fine but this isn't fatal if we stop the bleeding now."

Nightmare sighs and picks Cross up bridal style, Cross, who's still out cold, flinches and instinctively leans away from his touch. Suddenly, it hits everyone how fragile Cross is.

He looks so small in Nightmare's grip so... traumatized. Like he went through stuff even they haven't.

Honestly that's what made Dust not like him so much, he had even worse things going on for himself than Dust did. That scared him.

Horror never liked Cross because of him not finishing his food, he thought he must be ungrateful.

"What happened when you got here Killer?" Nightmare asks, trying to keep his composure although he begins to pull Cross closer which provided Cross no comfort and only to start to shake gently.

"He was on the ground just as you found him..." Killer says, his voice betraying his worry, which Nightmare found strange because Killer mostly pulled slightly mean pranks on Cross.

Actually Nightmare found everyone's reaction strange, Horror and Dust seemed to have a resentment of Cross yet they look as if Cross is their close friend.

"I- I did find that there was a box... it had the stuff that Cross had been using to do- do that to himself." He continues.

"Stars..." I grumble, "How didn't I notice, I should have known." I say mostly to myself.

"I'm sure it was our fault." Dust says plainly, he sounded really upset with himself for some reason, maybe it was the fact he made someone else go through the same problem he himself suffers with, maybe it was Papyrus tormenting him about doing it, maybe he was comparing himself to one of the girls in "Mean Girls" that Killer made them all watch.

Cross had laughed several times during that movie, he only laughed at the parts that were supposed to be serious too. Killer looked very proud.

"..." Nightmare can't bring himself to respond, to reassure him of something he doesn't know true. "I.. couldn't tell you. I noticed the bullying but I was unaware of the extent of it that he would bring himself to do this."

Horror suddenly looks ashamed, "I... should have been more open..." He mumbles and Dust puts his hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry big guy we all should have." Dust says, wincing slightly.

They stay quiet as they bring Cross to the medical room, regret heavy in the air.

...

Slowly, Cross blinks his eyes open, he can't remember how he got in the medical room, he supposes he failed at something again like the stupid monster he is.

That was, until he realized his arms were patched up. "Shit." He mumbles, realizing he's probably going to get punished for not controlling himself and jeopardizing whatever plans Nightmare could have had for him for the day.

"Oh? Cross you're awake." Nightmare says, keeping out the urgency he felt when he spoke. "You had everyone worried."

"Somehow I doubt that." Cross says under his breath but Nightmare can hear him loud and clear.

"I would too if I didn't experience it." Nightmare says with a sigh, "They all looked super remorseful..."

...

To be completely honest Cross didn't expect what happened to happen after this. Everyone began to be so much kinder to him, he expected it to not last but holy shit.

Eventually, Nightmare pulled the truth out of him of what was happening, and more, of his father's abuse of the past and of his... eating problem. Which was relayed to Horror and then Horror was so incredibly nice to him he cried.

Luckily it was only Horror who saw, and gave him the biggest bear hug.

He didn't know that would send Cross into panic mode, the poor guy. Nightmare felt his emotions and whisked him off immediately, having not seen Cross like this before. That's when Cross told Nightmare of his past with his father.

And the start of Nightmare's overprotectiveness.

I suppose that's the story of how Cross became the gang's favorite, and the one they feel they have to protect despite Cross being stronger than most of them.

[seasidesandstarscapes]

you, only you

Summary: In which The Dance Scene™ goes a little bit differently

(or, Bobby is swept off his feet by Don, who's more charming than the team could ever imagine)

Rating: G

Tags: Getting Together, Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff, Holding Hands, One Shot

Words: 1,124

A/N: yeah yeah dance scene rewrite. listen if anything i'm the most boring person in the world and you can always rely on that

-

AO3

or

Don is sitting alone.

Maybe he should leave well enough alone, but Bobby can’t help himself. Don’s his teammate. His friend. If he’s not having a good time, then Bobby wants to fix that.

“Whatcha doing?” He asks as he sits next to Don.

A girl sits at the end of the bench, her expression matching Don’s and Bobby thinks he’s got this all sorted out. He didn’t get his title of number one wingman from his pre-law friends for nothing.

“I’m watching,” Don answers, leaving Bobby to fill in the gaps.

“Why aren’t you talking to anybody?” Bobby glances at the girl and then back to Don.

“I’m not much of a talker."

It’s nothing to go on, but Bobby still makes an attempt by pointing out a fellow student. Don only offers surprise, a one word answer, and Bobby thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

“You don’t have to say much,” he explains to Don’s indifference. His words aren’t reaching and Bobby scrambles to make an impact. “Listen, Hume. Tonight, not tomorrow night or next week. Tonight is your best shot.”

“Okay,” Don nods and Bobby smiles with relief. “You want to dance, Bobby?”

The floor falls out from underneath Bobby and he gapes at Don, voice caught in his throat.

Sure, he likes Don, they see each other every day after all. They have more in common than Bobby realized at first and whenever he has free time, he seeks out Don. It’s just a cordial friendship until Bobby sees what’s been there the whole time. What Don is offering him now.

“What?” He manages at last.

“You said I don’t have to say much,” Don shrugs nonchalantly.

Having his own words thrown back at him takes Bobby even more off guard and he can only stare at the other man as his brain catches up.

“Uh,” Bobby blinks.

His boisterous confidence has been snatched up in an instant. How Don of all people managed to break him is beyond Bobby. Sneaking a glance back, Bobby sees the girl chatting with a new man. Thank goodness he doesn’t have to feel guilty about her loss.

Suddenly, his lack of an answer is apparent in Don’s renewed interest in his shoes and sagging shoulders and it’s too much. Bobby jumps to his feet, grabbing Don’s hands before he drags him to the dance floor to join Roger and John.

“Mind if we cut a rug with you fellas?” Bobby nods at his two teammates

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” Roger grins.

Bobby turns back to Don, hands hovering in his space. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what to do.

Then, one of Don’s hands takes his own, the other landing on his hip. It shouldn’t feel so intimate. After all, it’s just one dance. He grips tight onto Don’s bicep, as if it’s his only anchor to this world, while they figure out what happens next.

They’re slow to find their rhythm but with Roger’s encouragement, soon they’re swaying and dancing along with everyone else.

Bobby’s heart doesn’t mean to skip a beat when Don twirls him, their hands interlocked just enough that Bobby can memorize each and every callous. He’s lighter than air, enraptured in all that is Don. The smallest of smiles has graced Don’s face and Bobby thinks he might faint. Practice will be the death of him.

When the song stops, it’s all too soon and he shares a small laugh with Don as they break apart.

“Want to get some air?” Don suggests and Bobby frantically nods.

He falls in step with Don, his face flush but he knows it’s not from the dancing. They find themselves in the courtyard just far enough from the dance hall that the music can barely be heard.

Bobby sits down on a nearby fountain, keeping his hand barely out of reach from Don’s and his heart flutters in his chest. The night air is brisk with just enough bite to make Bobby shiver, but if it’s really the cold or something else, Bobby isn’t sure.

A weight falls on his shoulders and Bobby tenses as Don wraps him in his own suit coat.

“Won’t you be cold?” Bobby asks.

“No,” Don shakes his head and shuffles closer.

There’s hardly any space between them now. Don’s leg is warm against his own and Bobby can practically feel Don’s breath on him. Bobby swallows. He’s thinking too much about this. He tries to convince himself it’s nothing until Don puts an arm around his shoulders.

“Don?” Bobby looks up and his voice is caught in his throat.

Deep, dark eyes stare into his own, so focused and sure. It’s as if they’re out on the water but when the gap closes between them, they’re anywhere but. Bobby melts, his hesitation fading with each passing second. Don kisses like it’s the end of the world and Bobby can only follow. Who breaks the kiss first is anyone’s guess but Bobby is eager to start again.

“Might get caught,” Don murmurs against his lips.

“So let them see,” Bobby responds but he resorts to giving Don a quick peck before pulling away.

Don’s right, they’re too exposed like this. Bobby heaves a sigh and chews on his lip as silence sneaks in again.

“Don’t think I’ll have anyone in my room tonight,” Don offers.

It’s music to Bobby’s ears and he shoots up, one hand gripped tight to Don’s. There’s a small laugh from Don but they’re quickly on their way, sneaking down quiet paths and stretching hallways. Bobby can’t contain himself as they finally make it into Don’s room and he throws himself onto him, losing Don’s coat from his shoulders.

Don’s hands press into his back and Bobby hopes they’ll leave bruises. There’s no space between them but it’s not enough. Bobby needs Don in every fiber of his being. Stumbling over to the bed, Bobby falls back on it and pulls Don on top of him, biting his lip at the small groan that leaves Don. They pause to stare at each other, their breaths mingling, chest rising and falling together.

“You’re beautiful,” Don breathes and Bobby ducks his head as his face flushes.

He thinks to quip back, but he doesn’t ever want to stop the adoring look on Don’s face. Before he can return a compliment however, Don captures his lips in another searing kiss.

Bobby sinks into the mattress, sighs as Don lifts his hands above his head and intertwines their fingers.

Maybe this is just one night, maybe it’s forever. All Bobby cares is that right now, he has Don all to himself and no one can take that away.

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

Chapter 11: Memory

TW: Lots of emotions this chapter! Fluff, some angst, lots of descriptions and some mildly confusing text. Enjoy y'all, I love this chapter! 🥰

In the beginning, there was a tree. It was a sapling of thin branches and leafs so small that anyone that stumbled upon it would hardly know they were there. This tree, the first tree, dug its roots deep into the earth, so deep they spanned across realms, touching every one of them in some way. It grew taller and more beautiful to behold every passing day, and its roots were filled with Destiny, Death, Dreams, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delight.

The tree held the knowledge of all things within its being. It watched the world shape and twist with each phase of the moon and the new rising of each sun. The tree absorbed each word, every look of a mother to her babe or lovers sharing intimate moments beneath the privacy of its leaves. And then came the song, the first song it had ever heard. That was when everything changed.

Not long after the tree heard the melody, it was cut, but its roots had burrowed deep, welding itself to the world and the world to it. What should have been the end of its life and all the knowledge it held within instead became the beginning. One beginning, anyway. One of your beginnings.

The tree, soon known as The Great Tree, forged its own realm. A realm of mist and water and trees as far as the eye could see, all connected to its strong roots. It was different, though, lesser. Lesser because you were missing from it.

You would awaken in the dark and terrifying forest beneath a canopy of trees and a skyless realm. You would be alone, afraid, and uncertain about who and what you were. You would follow the only sounds you could hear; the dreamers burdened with great fears and daunting tasks that came with living.

The life you’d know was not the one you were meant for. It was a small, fleeting thing that always longed to return to a larger whole. You wouldn’t question it, though. None would, for what is more daunting to face than memory?

You awoke in a meadow of moss and tufts of grass. The sky above you was shrouded in thick mist and covered by a canopy of vivid green leaves. As you sat up, looking at your hands and the pale hair that ran through your fingers, you realized you should have felt afraid, but you didn’t. You knew this place… You were one with it.

Walking through the thicket of trees, whose roots moved and curled out of your path, you could hear them speak. Their voices were soft, full of joy and pain and life. Every tree was different, some with darker trunks and others with lighter leaves, but all had faces. Faces that you knew… Ones you’d seen before somewhere. You could feel every living thing, all connected to you, all a part of you - an extension of yourself. But… Who were you?

This body of soft flesh and silken hair felt foreign. You knew it, and it knew you, but the details were blurry. A sound, soft and strange, echoed around you. Hoo. Your eyes lifted to one of the branches of the trees you walked beneath, and there, perched upon it, sat a strange-looking beast. A bird. An owl. Its golden feathers swirled with burning embers and winds of mist as it beat its wings down at you. Hoo. Hoo. 

As you took another step forward, it swooped down, washing heat over you as it curved in the air and flew off into the distance. You felt a pull, a voice yours but not telling you to follow after it. How? You thought. It’s flown so far now I cannot see it. Looking up at the covered canopy of trees, you sighed. How you wished you’d had wings. Then you could soar above the treetops and mist and find your way. Mist curled around your legs, and before you could do much more than look down at it, you were transformed… no longer a soft body of skin and hair but a small thing of feathers and talons.

Hopping on your shorter, thinner legs, you peered down at your reflection in a small pool of nearby water. A long thin beak glimmered in the water as the pale eyes of a white raven stared back at you. For a moment, you just stood there, admiring the agile wings and thick feathers, when eventually, your eyes were drawn to a small black tuft hiding in the white above your heart. You looked familiar. More familiar than simple memories of birds, something personal and essential lingered within the small patch of black, but you couldn’t quite place it. 

The water rippled as the misty breeze grew stronger, lifting you by the wings and telling you to fly. And fly you did. Shooting through the leaves of the trees like a star, you soared high above the woods of mist, looking down at the endless plane of trees that stretched far beyond your eyes could see. Mountains and plentiful lakes and waterfalls split up the landscape and further revealed the beauty of this world before you. The wind beneath your feathers made you feel free as you continued forward, weightless.

Hoo! The noise came again as the owl dove from above, flying directly into your path and continuing forward, wanting you to follow. As you did, the pull you felt grew tighter and tighter until the figure of a tall white trunk came into view, and the sparkling silver leaves glistened in the misty sky like stars. The Great Tree… Images flashed before your eyes, memory filling your being as you dove down and slammed against the earth, you again. You stood, eyes gazing up at the intricately carved wood of the trunk, words, and symbols you knew but had never seen with these eyes before. The pale roots groaned as they shifted beneath the earth, lifting up to curl against your cheeks and through your hair. Welcome home, the tree seemed to say. 

“My lady…” A host of voices echoed through the trees behind you, each one familiar, filled with so much love and sorrow and you.

Turning, you were met with silver wisps of faces long gone from your side. Wolves with glowing eyes, purple, green, yellow, and every color in between, filled the empty spaces between the trees, running toward you. And there, solid among them, was one shining blue eye that held every memory, every moment you needed to know the creature rushing toward you. Tears build in your eyes as you smiled, “My star… My Sirius!”

He was quick as he ran through the trees, hopping over roots and stones until his soft body slammed into you. You could hear him speaking in a flurry of wet kisses and happy whimpers. “I missed you so much!” He said. “Never leave again, promise!”

You held onto him tighter, hugging the companion you’d been forced to leave behind while you were reborn. Flashes and fragments of the life you’d lived together washed over you like an endless wave that made everything clear. “I will not leave you again.” You told him, pulling back to hold onto his face and look into his eye, gently stroking a finger down the scar on his face. “Not ever.”

*

“He’s gone, sir,” Lucienne told him as she moved to his side. “Cain and Abel have searched the forest, but there’s no sign of him.”

Dream ran his fingers over the white book, closing his eyes to hold onto the fleeting visions of her. He could hear the faint beating of her heart, could see her smile and her hair glowing in the moonlight. For one moment, it felt like Daunt was alive still, here beneath his fingertips l, laughing and smiling and living alongside him.

Opening his eyes to the dull little house that now stood empty, Dream merely said, “It is unlikely he will return. We shall continue our search elsewhere, for if he remained in The Dreaming, I would sense it.”

“You think the wolf has gone to the Waking World?”

“Perhaps,” he answered, grip tightening on the book as he turned to his librarian and held it out to her. “I believe this belongs in the library.”

With watery eyes, she smiled. “You could keep it for a while… To feel closer to her… Until she returns.”

Dreams jaw clenched. “No. Even then, she will not be the Daunt either of us knew.”

“You fear she will not remember us?” Lucienne pondered sadly.

“I fear a great deal, Lucienne…” He admitted. “Take it. It belongs among the other books.”

She bowed her head as he passed, fading from the brothers’ garden to sit upon his throne with a single chilled piece of parchment in his hands. The parchment the book had spit at his feet. The parchment that held Daunt’s ethereal white hair and dark eyes and smile and everything he missed about her more than words could ever measure. It had been no time at all, to him of all beings, and yet it had felt like eons had passed without her, without even the comforting knowledge that she was alive and happy elsewhere, safe, even if not beside him. He could recall every detail about her, yet he could remember none. He could recall kissing her, but the feeling of that memory was now replaced with a sense of deep sorrow.

Daunt, his Daunt, was gone. He knew not when her spirit would return, nor did he know what to expect once it did. But, the reality remained the same. Whoever came to replace her would not be the being he knew. His greatest fear was that Dream of The Endless had wasted what little time he’d been given with the being known as Daunt, the being he loved, with vile words and cruelty to realize too late what should have always been clear. They were meant to be together. Dream and Daunt.

*

You and Sirius sat beneath the silver leaves of The Great Tree for a long while, making up for the time lost. When the two of you finally let the other go, you stood, examining the tree trunk and the markings carved there. The largest was a woman carved in gold with delicate features and a pair of antlers growing from her head. The carving swirled and faded into the second, a woman carved in white with stoic, almost sad features. Then, finally, it mixed again, gold and white weaving together to form the third carved woman of silver with leaves of emerald in her hair and a soft smile on her face.

Pressing your hand to the tree, your fingers running over the edges of woven gold and white, you looked up at the leaves and surrounding area. This was you. Your home and your realm, but it was Sirius’ too. With that thought, more carved figures appeared on either side of the tree; black wolves with bright eyes of every color appeared, swirling around until they all met with a white wolf with one blue eye. Sirius lifted his head to the carvings. “This is your history.”

“Our history,” you corrected. “This home is yours as much as it is mine. And now it is time to make that home one both of us are proud of.”

The tree sang beneath your palm, roots quivering as it twisted and took the shape you willed. Mist swirled all around, lifting and pulling and bending the realm. Finally, when all fell silent again, you stood at the tree’s base, its roots curled up into elegant archways, accentuating a fine path of stone, moss, and flowers. The earth behind you cracked and fell away, a crevice of glowing crystals separating The Great Tree from the rest of The Forest as the roots of the surrounding trees twined together to create a bridge behind you.

A tall entryway was carved into the now hollow tree, with the engraved women of gold, white, and silver resting above it. The gold owl dove through the doorway, gliding gracefully up the small set of stairs and onto the chandelier of golden-hued crystals and vines. Hoo. You and Sirius walked into the now large room, marveling at the tall windows that now helped illuminate the space. A large pool of water filled with red flowers and fish, large and small, separated the area. All around the pool were dark statues of wolves adorned with vined plants that bore different colored flowers, purple, yellow, and green, all humming with residual life. Standing tall across the water, a towering statue of a woman caught your eyes. Her head rested on the part of the tree while she sat, holding a vase of endless white and sparkling mist that poured out over a large dome of hedges and turned to water, running off the sides and into the pool. 

The hedges were wild and grew in lumpy shapes with twisted vines holding them tightly together, creating a canopy over a seat of curved wood, twisting high into antler-like patterns, and soft moss and flowers of every shape and color. As you took another step forward, a bridge of lily pads and white flowers formed beneath your feet, allowing you across the water to stand before the seat. Your hands traced the wood, admiring the softness of it beneath your palms. 

Sounds echoed around the tree as ghostly figures began to flow through the air and into the large room. Beside you, Sirius growled, baring his teeth at the odd brings that hovered, waiting. You could hear the sounds they made, voices without words, but the golden owl now spoke.” Sit the throne, Queen of The Emerald Wood.”

“What?” You whispered.

“Become that which you were always meant to be,” The owl replied.

Looking at Sirius for a moment, you moved, gently easing yourself into the chair. The figures bowed, mist swirling from you to them and pulsing with a faint light. The owl bowed, and then your mighty companion smiled, bowing as low as he could with his blue eye filled with pride. The ground trembled below you as branches and small roots curled down from the hedgehog canopy to twine around your head, blooming into small flowers of light blue and rich leaves. Vines wound crystals into the modest circle that now crowned your head.

You were the ruler of this realm now. You were, at last, all you were meant to be. The tree groaned around you as stairs formed above the statue, and rooms, archways, stairs, and balconies stretched up the length of the tree as far as your eyes could see. A palace for all the spirits that now stood before you. Their faces felt familiar, but one stood out among them. A man of tanned skin and curly black hair with caring eyes and a soft smile. He bowed his head to you as he approached. “It’s good to see you so… not terrifying.”

“Forgive me,” you replied, tilting your head. “Have we met?”

The man laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not entirely sure. All this… Supernatural stuff is kind of new to me.”

You laughed with him. “As it is to me.”

“Hector,” he said. “My name is Hector.”

The name brought back flashes of a cracking home, a woman crying out his name… Her eyes looking at you in fear. And a voice, deep and rich and endless, echoed in your mind speaking a name. “Daunt.” It sounded wrong… Loud and filled with a wave of seething anger you’d not ever know. More voices followed it, more words of cruelty, but that voice spoke loudest.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Hector.”

Looking around at the newly established palace, he smiled. “It’s quite a beautiful place you’ve got here. I hope I’ll be able to add to it.”

You smiled. “I’m certain everyone here has a purpose. We shall work together to discover it, but in the meantime, please make yourself - all of yourselves,” you addressed the group now, “at home. You may go where you wish and do what you wish.”

Hector bowed his head again. “Thank you, fair lady.”

The owl swooped down in place of the man and hooted loudly. “My lady. I am known as The Katyogel. I’ve come to offer you council should you find yourself in need of it.”

“Do you have a name?” You asked her.

“The Kayyogel is the only name I’ve known.”

“I shall call you Kat then if it pleases you.”

Her golden feathers shimmered brighter for a moment. “I shall bear it with pride, your grace.”

As the three of you walked the grounds of the newly established palace, helping guide spirits to locations they could build upon, you heard a strange noise. The sound echoed through the trees, cutting through the mist and urging your feet forward until you stood at the base of a young tree with soft bark and a young feminine face. It was crying, tears of thick amber sap. You stepped closer, and the tree’s roots curled away from the ground into an archway, revealing a set of earthy steps leading down below. Following the way down, you found yourself underground in a passageway lit by small glowing plants hanging from the tree’s roots, glowing different colors as you passed. A light lay ahead, filled with mist and blurred shapes. 

As you exited the path, climbing another set of stairs, you found a graveyard surrounding you. The sounds of birds echoed in the distance, but there, weeping over a torn bit of fabric, a young woman looked down at the gravestone in front of her. “I’m so sorry… I should have been more careful with it. You were always telling me to be careful with it.”

Kat swooped down from the mist and perched herself on the headstone as Sirius walked closely by your side. The closer you got, the more defined the haze of lights hovering over her head became. An array of laughter and tears and angry shouts. Memories. Her memories. Her head snapped up, and her tearful eyes found yours. “Who are you?”

You still didn’t have an answer to that question… so you continued forward as a name rolled off your tongue. “Kristina.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know it because I have watched you grow. You were always a small sapling, sick more often than the others, but you grew to be strong. Your roots run deep beneath the earth, connecting to so many of those around you.” Looking down at the headstone, at the name you knew to be her mothers, you smiled. “Hers especially.”

Kristina cried even harder, holding the torn and discolored fabric to you. “Can you fix it? It was hers… her favorite scarf, and I’ve ruined it.” She sobbed loudly. “She told me to be gentle with it, and I’ve… This is all I have left of her.”

You stood before her now, looking down at the sad fabric with a sorrowful gaze. “I cannot fix it, but you are wrong. This small, real thing is not the last of her. You hold all of her within you. Every piece that you need.”

Leaning over, you pressed a kiss to her head, fingers combing through the array of memories hovering around her, pulling her mother from them and bringing the moments she’d forgotten to light. Below your lips, Kristina laughed, and her tears turned to ones of joy. The memories of her and her mother, of the deep and unbreakable love they’d shared and would continue to share, shone over the loss she felt so profoundly. “She is always with you.”

The woman looked up, wrapping the scarf around her neck and holding onto it lovingly. “Thank you, Munin.”

A chord struck within you. Munin… Memory… that was who you were. Sirius looked up at you as Kristina walked away. “Munin?” He asked. “What does it mean?”

“Memory,” you answered. “It means memory.”

“Memory?” Sirius questioned quietly. “Does it hold any meaning to you, my lady?”

“It is my name.” You looked down at him and smiled. “I am Munin, the Keeper of Memory.”

*

As the months passed, your kingdom grew. Nearly every spirit you found within your realm had a home, a place of their own built from the memories they knew in their past lives. Your domain filled with creatures of all shapes, colors, and sizes. Plants grew everywhere you walked, and all within your realm adored you, the fair Lady Munin. It was all more than you expected and could have hoped for, yet something was missing. You could feel an absent space within you. Dark and deep and longing… 

The longer you tried to uncover the feeling, the stronger it seemed to grow until you found yourself unable to think of anything else. You walked beneath the arched roots, admiring the carvings when suddenly, an image took shape beneath one. The markings on the root glowed a rich greyish-brown color, and before your eyes stood tall, neatly trimmed hedges and the distant rattling of a chain. You stepped forward, gently pressing your hand to the thin barrier, and felt the smooth sensation of water rippling over your fingers. You knew this palace, this maze… no, this garden. Destiny. Stepping forward, you entered the realm without resistance and began walking along the path until you emerged in the garden’s center. 

The Garden of Forking Ways was a place you could never forget. It was beautiful in a simplistic way that made you take notice of the most minor details. Perhaps that was what Destiny had in mind when he’d created it, or perhaps the Endless being was simply simple. You turned, looking up at the tall statues that depicted the other Endless, his siblings. Most of whom you knew little of… passing, fleeting sounds and sensations but nothing solid enough for you to feel anything while you examined their faces. That was until you got to Desire. 

Even the simple sight of their smile made your body curl and your bones ache. You remembered that smile standing over you. You recognized their golden eyes burning with anger as they plunged a silver dagger through your heart and the sounds of your beloved Sirius’ pain as he fought them off. Desire of The Endless was a face you could never forget; no matter how long or how many lifetimes you’d pass through, theirs would always be the face of pain.

“Munin,” a deep voice echoed through the maze as Destiny appeared behind you. “I welcome you.”

“Destiny,” you replied, turning to look at him. His height was the most imposing thing about him. Tall and blank-faced, he looked at you from beneath his brown robes. Thin pages of memories fluttered between his head and the book he was tethered to, streaming together in an endless turning of pages. “It is an honor to be allowed an audience.”

The chain linking him to his book rattled as he gestured toward a seat at his table. “The honor is mine.”

You did not sit or move as you asked, “I take it you know why I am here.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Many that feel lost have come to my garden.”

“And how many have left feeling found?” You wondered aloud.

He merely shrugged his shoulders. “I am not a being of lost or found.”

“You are a being of riddles and questions,” you said with a smile. “I suppose it was foolish of me to expect you to answer mine.”

“Perhaps,” he said.

Turning away from him, you looked back at the statues, one in particular flooding you with cruel words and insults in that loud and consuming voice. “Which of your siblings is this?”

“Dream,” he answered, sitting at the table. “You know him well. Or rather, you did in your past life.”

“Yes,” you said softly. “I recall some of it, but much it would seem, has been lost.” Then, turning back to him, you narrowed your eyes. “His realm and mine are close, are they not?”

“Yes,” Destiny said, his tone never shifting. “Where there are dreams, memory will always follow.”

You caught onto the unspoken suggestion quickly. Looking up at the statue of the Endless being again, you were once again met with the tidal wave of cruel words and insults spewed at you, or rather at her… at that name, the being you felt but no longer knew. “You would have me approach a being I have only heard speak ill of me and mine?” Then, turning, you looked back at Destiny with a sharp look. “Surely you jest.”

Destiny was not known for such things. Even you knew this. With a simple shrug and the quiet rustling of pages turning, Destiny replied, “You are the one in search of something, not I.”

“Does this brother of yours even have what I’m looking for?”

“Perhaps.”

You shook your head, looking back at his statue with a sigh. “Why did you not tell me… her… that we were more than forgotten things and intimidating memories?”

Destiny’s misty eyes met your own. “She needed to experience this life as she did for you to be as you are. Munin. Memory. The first being of remembrance and knowledge. What is written is and will be. Not even I have the power to change that.”

“I still very much dislike speaking with you, Destiny,” you said, bowing your head to the old Endless. “But I thank you for this talk of ours.”

Fading away into the mist-filled hedges, you found the rippling portal and returned to The Forest. Sirius stood waiting, his eye brightening with relief as you walked down the cobbled path and back to his side. “Where were you?”

“Speaking to an old man in hopes he would answer my question.”

“Well, did this old man know what was missing?”

“Of course he did,” you answered. “Though he did not tell me, nor did he intend to. As always.”

Sirius growled lowly. “Perhaps I could have convinced him had you waited for me to accompany you.”

Chuckling, you shook your head at the wolf. “None can intimidate Destiny, not even a fearsome creature such as yourself, my star.”

“What now?”

You looked up at the growing kingdom across the woven bridge, at the glittering palace molded into The Great Tree, rays of moonlight illuminating the silver leaves and casting every living being in a soft glow. It was more than you’d ever hoped for… more than you could have possibly imagined. The spirits continued to build their homes, joyful and unafraid of this realm they now called home. Before you were you, this was all you’d ever wanted. A home filled with laughter and warmth and light and beauty. But now that you had it… now that it stood right before you, it was missing something. That cursed thing that your mind and soul simply could not name. Perhaps the only way you’d be able to discover the meaning of this feeling was to seek it out in the land of Dreams. 

“Now, we pay a visit to The Dream King.”

“Him?” Sirius groaned, looking up at you with a look of disdain. “Why would we need to visit him and his sand?”

You sighed, walking toward the roots linking your world with his. “I do not know, but perhaps he can… inspire me to reveal what is still missing from our world. Or better yet, he has a vast library of knowledge. The answer could yet be within one of his books.”

Sirius rolled his eye. “That’s not likely to be a quick affair. The Dream King is an awry sort.”

“I remember little of him,” you admitted, thinking of how his deep, silken voice sounded as it cursed you. “Only fleeting words spoken in anger and filled with something deeper…”

“It is no secret your past with Dream of the Endless is… complicated,” Sirius offered. “I saw only glimpses of it, but as you’ve said before, they are hidden even from you. Perhaps that is what is missing?”

“I do not know why those memories have been erased from me, but whatever the reason may be, we must trust in the will of The Forest.”

You walked among the carved roots for a moment, looking over the deep runes of red, gold, and brown until you came upon the rich blue that lined his name. Dream of the Endless. Your fingers ran along the smooth carvings as they glowed beneath your fingertips, running up the tree trunk and bringing the star-filled portal into The Dreaming before you. Then, looking over at the owl atop the root, you nodded. 

“Coming, Kat?” Her golden wings shimmered as she spread them, gracefully falling into the portal and appearing in the sky on the other side. You looked down at Sirius, who huffed loudly. “You can stay here if you wish.”

“And leave you to deal with the Nightmare King by yourself? Never, my lady.” He stepped into the portal, vanishing into a mist that swirled behind The Katyogel.

You leaned into the tingling of the portal, slowly easing your way through the water-like barrier and onto the other side in the form of the white raven. You, Kat, and Sirius soared through the night sky for a moment before you dove down toward the glittering gold roofs of the Dream Lords palace, nearly crashing into a blurred figure of black wings that shrieked as you passed. You cawed loudly before swooping down through the palace doors as they opened to you and shifted back, leaving a trail of white wings floating in your wake.

*

“Boss!” Matthew hollered, swooping over the shelves and crashing into the library table.

“Matthew!” Lucienne scolded.

“Sorry! Sorry! Boss, you didn’t happen to make a like huge bird, did you?”

Dream tilted his head in confusion, closing the book he held. “A huge bird? I’ve no idea what you mean.”

The raven cawed loudly. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“What is going on?” Lucienne asked.

“I was flying, you know, as I do… Bird and all…” His feathers ruffled. “But then outta nowhere, this huge fucking white bird swooped down. Nearly crashed into me! Unimportant, anyway, it was headed for the palace doors. Figured that was a bad sign, so I came to find you.”

It made little sense. This creature, wherever it came from, should have left a trace that alerted him of its presence. Dream set the book down on the table and turned toward the throne room with Matthew in tow. This could very well be some kind of trick… A misunderstanding or perhaps a message from another realm. As he walked, he saw glistening white feathers glide across the marble floor. His steps quickened with a deep-rooted tense feeling filling his chest, his mouth open and ready to let lose the frustrated words fueled by it when everything stopped. Dream froze between the pillars, looking up at his throne or rather the figure standing in front of it. 

The stained glass windows cast an ethereal light over her pale visage. Long white hair twisted down her back in intricate braids and curls that reminded him of the roots and gnarled branches of the trees her realm had once been full of. Her long gown was white with glittering adornments of silver that twinkled and glowed as she moved. On her shoulder, an owl of golden wings and wide eyes shining with embers was perched, watching him for a long moment before twisting its head to look at the face of its master. 

Dream took a step forward, drawn to her being more so now than ever. Her head turned, and wide bright eyes, sparkling with hues of swirling molten silver and gold, met his. Daunt… She looked different, lighter… Unburdened.

Sirius treaded the thin space between his lady and the straight drop off the platform, his blue eye watching Dream closely, oddly absent of his usual look of disdain. “You stand in the presence of Lady Munin. Ruler of The Forgotten Ones. Princess of The Silverleaf. Keeper of Memory. And Queen of The Emerald Wood.” Pride filled him at the many titles she’d held, all of which she deserved more than any other. “You will show her the proper respect, or I shall rid you of your eyes.”

The girl, Munin, tore her eyes away from him to look down at the beast. “Sirius, we are guests.”

He was so caught up in the beautiful melody of her voice that he’d almost missed the wolf’s huff. “He’s heard far worse, I’d imagine. And I doubt that his tongue is clean of ill-spoken words.”

“Forgive my companion,” she said, looking back at him with a delicate dip of her head, the wooden crown of crystals, emerald leaves, and soft blue flowers… forget me nots, catching his eyes. “You are The King of Dreams?”

Pain exploded through his soul, shattering every hope and the misguided notion he’d clung to these few, long years she was gone. She did not remember him.

*

He stood out against the light, airy nature of the room. Clad in a long dark cloak that looked to be lined with starlight and an array of cosmos within it, the Dream Lord was not what you’d expected… not what you’d remembered in the hazy and fleeting moments you’d seen in memories. The statue in Destiny’s garden made him look so regal… so proud and snobby, but as you gazed down at him from the high platform taking in the mess of black hair and the simple clothes and the way his eyes sparkled… the way that heavy gaze made your skin burn, he did not seem the same. Instead, his lips pursed into a thin line as his hands clenched at his sides, glittering stars of memory shining like a crown around his head, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

In a puff of mist, you teleported down to stand before him, eyes raised to the twinkling memories that only seemed to expand the longer you looked. Walking around him with a bright smile, you held your hand to them, brushing your fingers along the small things and watching each one. “Your memory is so beautiful,” you complimented, plucking one from its place in his crown and cradling it in your hands, willing the small ball of light to expand and reveal that which it held. 

The Dream Lord looked at your hands with wide eyes as the memory played for him. “How…”

Looking back up into his deep, endless eyes, you smiled. “Memory is always unique in the shapes and forms it takes, but I’ve never seen ones that look like this before. An endless crown of stars, all your memories displayed so proudly. It suits you, Dream of the Endless.”

“You can see my memories. How?” He said a bit more coldly.

“I can’t see all of them,” you admitted, lifting the star back into its place and looking deep within the host of being that lay before you. “As to how memories are my function. They are me, and I am them.”

“Memory,” he whispered voice light yet filled with depths you did not understand. 

The darker memories caught your eye, swirling around the temple of his crown in a black hole, holding inside it a seemingly endless pit of dark things. They were memories he’d wished to forget… wounds that never healed. You gently pulled one from the black and twisted it between your fingers, pulling to expand it, revealing a small glass cage, glowing the golden runes of dark magic… a thin and weak being trapped within it with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company.

It felt different, heavy as you beheld it. Something lingered inside, a familiar sense of you… of the being, you’d once been. “For so long, you sat in silence… desperate, pleading… hoping for someone to come for you. So angry and hurt and full of sorrow that they knew and yet… no one came.” With a deep furrow of your brows, you stroked a thumb along the edges of the cage, feeling it rattle beneath the pad of your finger. “I know this pain.”

Pale hands shot out and gripped your wrist tightly, drawing a surprised gasp from your lips as you looked up. You saw a field filled with shadow and darkness and two glowing eyes baring into yours as you wept. “Was it not your touch that did this?” That voice, his voice, seethed at you. For a moment, you could feel the bones shift beneath your skin… gripped so tightly you thought they’d snap in two. “Everything you touch spoils… Everything you speak to is corrupted by your words. All of this is your doing. Another burden upon my shoulders for me to remedy.”

You pulled your wrists away from his touch as tears swelled in your eyes, and the misty vision faded, revealing the soft light of the throne room and the equally soft eyes of the Dream Lord as he watched you with a tearful gaze. “Apologies,” He said in a strangled voice. “That… that is a memory I’ve no wish to relive again.” Nodding, you cautiously lifted your fingers to it, lifting it back into place with the others. His eyes fell to your wrist. “Did I harm you?”

You touched the chilled skin with still slightly shaking fingers and shook your head. “No.”

Sirius moved to your side, perching himself up to sniff the wrist you held with a low growling and a sharp look toward the being before you. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you repeated softly, pulling yourself from the distant echoes to smooth your hands over his head, lovingly rubbing his ears. “Be still, my star. I am well.”

Pressing his head to your chest, the growls of your companion subsided. Dream bowed his head to you, reverent and almost mournful. “You are most welcome in my realm, Lady Munin.”

“Thank you, Dream of The Endless.” You bowed your head.

“Morpheus,” he replied, emotion filling his eyes in an instant. “You may call me Morpheus.”

With a curt nod, you tested the name on your tongue, “Lord Morpheus. It suits you well.”

“My lord!” A voice called from the long hallways behind the Dream Lord. “Have you found the creature? Or shall I- Sirius!” The woman with dark glowing skin and two wide eyes looking out from behind a set of round eyeglasses stopped in her tracks as her gaze fell upon Sirius, who’d moved to meet her. She smiled, stroking his fur, and shook her head. “There you are! We’ve been looking for you for ages. Where have you been?”

Your wolf nuzzled her cheek for a moment before turning to look up at you. “Home.”

The woman looked up, her eyes instantly filling with tears as she smiled. “Oh!” She stood, moving quickly to wrap her arms around you and pull you in close. 

A warm sensation filled your chest as the smell of old books and ink filled your nose. Your hands settled tentatively on her back as fond memories of you, and the librarian filled your mind and hers. You held her tighter and whispered her name, “Lucienne…”

“Lady Daunt,” she said softly. Then, pulling away, she looked at your face, slowly realizing you were different from who she had known. “It is so good to see you.” 

“Daunt…” You whispered, memories of a life yours and yet not. Voices whispering cruel things in your - her ears. Your hand lifted to your chest, to the thin scar, the mark of her left on you. “That was my name. Her name. I am her, and yet I am not.”

Lucienne tilted her head and squeezed your hand with a sad but equally hopeful look. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I hope you and I can be close… like we were before.”

You bowed your head to her with a smile. “You already are my friend, Lucienne. The memories I’ve seen have told me such.”

“I am honored.”

Looking around, you beheld the misty figures wrought into shape in your prolonged presence, moving to examine them with a curious mind. “There is so much memory here, swirling in the air wanting to take form.” You wove through the misty figures, waving your hand until they solidified and took their shape, moving as they had when the memory had taken place.

The throne room was filled with figures, dancing and moving throughout the ample space with whispers and faint laughter. Smiling, you danced beside them, twirling and twisting to match their movements until you turned to a familiar figure. Round glasses and a wide, Cheshire grin. Happiness and pain warred within you as you examined the face closely, lifting your hand to its cheek with a sad whisper, “I know your face.”

Kat swooped down with an angry howling noise and cut through the figure before you, flapping her wings angrily to remove it from existence entirely. You merely shook your head at her and turned back to Dream, whose eyes seemed to hold more each time you looked into them. You could see in his crown swirling things hidden behind darkness or purposefully locked beneath the fortification of his conscious mind. You retook a step toward him. “So many of them are locked away… Hidden even from you.” You tilted your head, brows furrowing. “Why?”

“Perhaps there are things I do not wish to remember.”

“You cannot run from them,” you told him. “Memories are a part of you, good and bad. I can help you if you’d like. It is part of my function to aid in confronting one’s darker memories.” You laughed again. “I suppose I’m not unlike your nightmares in that regard.”

With a soft expression, Dream shook his head. “You, Lady Munin, are no nightmare.”

“Thank you,” you replied.

“If I may inquire, what is it that brought you to my realm?” Dream asked, looking away from you and straitening his back.

“I’ve already found much here,” you answered. “But I came to inquire in your library for an answer to a question.”

Lucienne lit up as she stepped closer. “The library is full of information. Surely your answer will be within a book.”

You smiled. “This is my hope.”

“What is it you wish to know?” She asked, leading you down the hallway toward the library. 

“It seems my recollection of my past life… of Daunt is splintered. I recall some things vividly, and others I cannot find.” You shook your head at the feeling of Dream’s stare as he followed after you.

Lucienne hummed quietly. “It will take some time to find something within the vast expanse we’ve at our disposal.”

You nodded. “Yes, I was expecting a bit of searching.”

Lucienne’s eyes went to a white book that glittered atop her table. “While we wait, perhaps it would interest you to see this.”

“The book of mists,” you breathed, slowly moving closer to gaze at it. “So few have read it.”

“I’m afraid we’ve not read it,” she corrected, sparing a look at Dream. “It appears to be fragmented. There are only a few words, and they don’t make much sense.”

You shook your head fondly. “You do not read memories,” you whispered, opening the book to the first page of the tree with the simple words scrawled messily at the bottom. “You remember them.” Then, with a deep breath, you began to read, “In the beginning, there was a tree.”

Mist rose from the book, taking the shape of the words and bringing the memories they held to life. It twisted into a tree, small and frail looking, shifting as it began to grow, showing the progression of it throughout the pages until the first tree, the one your realm held a different version of, towered over you and stretched up toward the ceiling. 

“Memory,” you affirmed softly as the mist of the book, the mist that was part of you, began to take shape in the room. “That was our name long before. We were not this… We had no physical form, for memory is no tangible or mere object. It is everything and nothing all at once, unique to each being.”

Dream looked around at the misty images of the first tree and those that celebrated and lived beneath its leaves. “How did you come to be then?”

“The first tree saw all, across every realm and every plane… We saw memories. The humans, the gods… your memories,” you breathed, looking away from the book to him. “We saw so many things, but it was you… Your dreamers that created that song. The first song.” The tune began to play in the throne room. “It made us... Want... For the first time, we wanted memories of our own, something tangible to hold in our hands and feel and love.”

Flipping the page, you felt the splintering cracks of their tools against the wood. “They cut us… The tree and we were forced… split apart from The Great Tree... Split from Memory, and so I… She came out fractured. Wrong. Distress. Discourage.” Turning toward him again with tears in your eyes, you whispered, “Daunt.”

“Thank you,” he said. “For sharing this gift with us.”

Lucienne beheld the book with adoring eyes. “I’ve not seen a book like this before. It is marvelous!”

“A fine addition to your library,” you answered with a smile as you closed the book and held it out to her.

“It belongs with you,” she said with a modest look. “Back in The Forest.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “Memory has no need for books. I think the dreamers would find more use for it than I would.”

Lucienne’s hands curled around the sparkling leather, and she nodded. “I shall keep it safe and well cared for.”

“As you do with all the other books under your care,” I assured her. “It will bring me great joy knowing it is getting such attention.”

“I will search the shelves for an answer to your questions, my lady. How will we call to you once we find answers?”

“I will return in a few days,” you looked at Dream. “If that is alright with you, Lord Morpheus?”

He simply nodded with a small smile. “My realm is open for you to come and go as you please, Lady Munin.”

You could not shake the echoes of his voice, the faint memories you did know of the Dream Lord s cruelty. Was all this some ruse? What did he gain from being kind to you now? “Return to The Forest,” you instructed Sirius and Kat. “I’ll be joining you shortly.”

“We can remain with you, my lady,” Sirius insisted.

“It’s alright,” you assured him, turning to Dream. “I would like to see a location that’s been plaguing my mind. A pier, I believe.”

His face remained stoic, but his hands wound tighter around his back. “I will escort you there myself.”

“Thank you,” you said with a bow of your head. “I’ll be home soon, my star.”

Sirius and Kat listened to your command, the owl seemingly understanding your wish to speak with the King of Dreams alone. She flew out of the palace with Sirius trailing behind her in mist as you and Dream of The Endless walked side by side toward the pier. You’d been seeing visions of the blue waters and the misty sky for days alongside the sound of his voice. Indeed this place held something… some event that had made your past self cling to it.

The water lapped at the groaning wood as the two of you walked toward the very edge of the dock. Shapes and figures moved with ease beneath the sapphire waves, tiny figments of dreams playing within the depths of the water. It was familiar here, filled with the faint presence of the figure you’d seen in the throne room alongside yours and one of your past companions, Puck. Then came him, the sweeping feeling of power and mystic sense of dreaming. The two of you had stood on this dock before. You knew it.

“Though much seems to be lost within my knowledge, I still hear voices of the past. Voices mocking me… her.” Beside you, Dream grew stiff, taking a deep breath as you continued, “It is your voice I hear loudest among them. It says such cruel things, but the word that seems to repeat is burden. Why did you hate her so?”

“I did not hate her,” he answered softly. Regret filled the space between you, humming like a song that only the two of you could hear.

Looking up at him, you spoke again, “Yet you spoke words meant to harm her.”

His eyes met yours unflinchingly, the apology shining within them. “I made a great many mistakes when you… she… was concerned.”

“Yes,” you agreed with furrowing brows. “And yet… it is not anger, hatred, or pain I feel when I look at you through her eyes.”

“What do you see then?” It was more than a question; it was a desperate plea… an answer that meant more to him than your eyes could ever see.

You looked away from his gaze at the dark of his coat, at memories of how soft it felt against your skin when you’d accidentally brushed by him. You admired the silken structure of his face, handsome and ethereal and entirely other that seemed to be molded to consume you. “Hope,” you began. “And starlight and… longing…”

When you dared meet his gaze again, you found it glazed, almost tearful, as he nodded. “Longing for what?”

“I do not know,” you replied. “But, I suppose the simplest answer I can give you is this: I do not hate you, Dream of the Endless, and neither did she.”

“A new beginning,” he breathed out with a hint of a smile.

You nodded, unaware of why exactly it sounded so familiar. “One for us both, it would seem.”

“You are always welcome in my realm.”

“As you are in mine,” you replied, eyes turning to the water as it rippled and revealed the emerald trees of your forest and your companions waiting beyond for you.

“Until we meet again,” Dream said, closing his eyes with a bow. “Lady Munin.”

“Until then,” You replied, a wave of familiarity making the air around you feel thick. “Lord Morpheus.”

In a puff of mist, you transformed into the white raven, curving around Morpheus’ back and high into the misty sky, diving down toward the hazed vision in the water of The Forest.

*

Dream watched the white raven with a heavy heart as she flew into the sky, wrapping around him before shooting upward like a star returning home. She looked like Jessamy, larger obviously, but the way she moved as she flew reminded him so much of his fallen companion. Then, diving down, she slid into the water soundlessly, and in the reflection, Dream could see the image of the fair Lady Munin standing in her realm as white feathers floated up into the air and the water returned to its deep sapphire blue. 

Reaching out, he took hold of a feather, holding it in his hand and savoring its warmth. She was different in many ways, yet it seemed she clung to her past life in intimate gestures. Looking up at the mist rolling over the water, he remembered Daunt’s promise. He did see her again, just as she’d said… he saw her not just in the new form of Munin but in the mist over the water and in the pages of Lucienne’s unfinished books. 

For years he feared he’d wasted his one chance to be with her. Feared he’d doomed both of them to a life of loneliness and isolation because of his past actions, he now held a glimmer of hope in his hands in the form of a white feather. Dream held onto the words that burned in his chest… the words he’d felt the undeniable urge to speak aloud to her, in a scream that would echo across worlds and a whisper that would only know her skin, in a desperate and unbreakable vow of devotion. I love you still. He thought to himself, fingers curling gently around the feather. I love you in every body, every name, every lifetime… I love you.

“Hold onto those words, my Dream.”

“I will hold them forever if I must,” he said to none but the fading moon and the rising sun.