#last one had a typo I almost died

[ephemerasnape]

Fastidio Techno Edit.

"You deserve much worse after all you've done."

[igotanidea]

Coke and disappointment: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!, friends to lovers, bad date on reader's part

Summary: when a date goes wrong, who's better to talk to if not a best friend. Even if that best friend happens to secretly have feelings for you and the complaining may actually push him over the edge...

A/N: sorry for the typos and mistakes, no time to proofread :D I'll fix it later :D

***

He was a fool.

A stupid, idiotic fucker who was too stubborn to speak up.

Too scared to tell the girl he liked that he liked her.

And now he was about to lose her.

Jason let out a shaky exhale, feeling his heart shutter at the thought she was about to move on with her life and leave him alone. Again. And then he punched the wall in a poor attempt at transforming that sadness into rage.

Rage was easier and he knew how to navigate it.

He took in the surroundings of his apartment, a little cluttered and shabby, but still it was the place he called his. Just last night she was casually lunging on his couch, texting on her phone with that stupid smile that always made his heart melt.

She was texting him. That other guy who obviously did not deserve her.  HE could have been the prince charming himself, be a gentleman with the look, but in Jason’s opinion he did not deserve her.

She was so close on that stupid couch.

So close.

All he had to do was take one step forward, take the phone from her hands and fucking tell her how he felt.

And then she jumped in the air, laughing and spinning around, proudly announcing she had a date.

And suddenly she was not so close anymore. Almost like those three words made a mountain grow between them.

A mountain, a sea, a valley and a desert.

His words died in his throat and he just smirked, throwing his usual meaningly funny comment and shut his heart once more.

And now he was spread on the same couch she was yesterday, with a bottle of beer in his hand, thinking stupid thoughts.

***

“Are you drinking without me?” the door swung open and Y/n walked inside like she owned the place, almost immediately heading towards the fridge and grabbing herself a bottle of cola zero.

“The hell Y/N? The hell you’re doing here?!”

“Can’t I just pop in at my friend’s place?” she raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her drink.

“Oh, no, you know what, by all means come in at any time. What if I was with someone?” Jason hissed in response, moving on the couch to make space for her.

“Well then, if so, you should remember to close the door.  As much as I wouldn’t mind the show, I’m pretty sure the girl you’ll be taking advantage of would not be delighted with an onlooker.”

“You’re disgusting Y/N.” Jason sighed with a hint of a smirk.

“But I’m not wrong, am I?” she grinned and poked his ribs playfully.

“No. No you are not.”

“Yeah…”

That yeah coming from her was supposed to be said in a funny tone, but came out a little desperate, the silence that fell after only added to that sensation.

“Hey Y/n/n?”

“Hm?”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“You know what.” Jason frowned and cupped her chin making her look at him

“That little failure of something that I already romanticized in my head before?”

“Yeah. About that.”

“Actually, yes, let’s talk about it. Maybe you can tell me what is wrong with today’s men.”

“Oh, shit talking the fucker that clearly made you upset. I’m game.” Jason stood up gathering another beer and coke from the fridge, getting ready for the long conversation. “Do tell.” With the force he jumped back on the couch, Y/N flew a few inches in the air.

“He came late.” She started and Jason booed “he was dressed as if it was a beach or something. And then he took me to the park—”

“Hopefully those punches and moves I taught you helped?”

“Right, cause we were fighting squirrels.” Y/N rolled her eyes “come on, be serious, it was the middle of the day in a public place. Using those punches will only make me get attention to myself. I settled on the good old kick in the groin.

Jason laughed. It was obvious the meeting did not go well.

“He was only talking about himself. Like all the time. Never once asking a thing about me.”

“You could have started talking yourself. I’m pretty sure the fucker had to make breaks for breathing?”

“Actually, I’m starting to believe he’s that one parasite that scientists discovered and that does not.”

“A parasite huh?”

“Pretty much so.”

“So, he took you to the café?”

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“Nope.”

“Wait, you’re serious!?” Jason turned abruptly to meet her eyes. “So the hell were you two doing?”

“Walking in the park?” Y/N raised an eyebrow “just told you?”

“For two hours?! How big was this fucking park?”

“Well….” Her gaze traveled lower and she started fidgeting with her fingers.

“What else?”

“Nothing.”

“What else, Y/N?” Jason almost groaned in frustration.

“At some point we took a turn and had to literally bush-bash.”

“No!” much to her surprise Jason started guffawing

“Hey, stop laughing! It was not funny! I had a dress!”

“Oh, poor little you.” He cackled even harder. “You don’t really want my opinion on that so-called “date” do you?”

“Of course not. I’m not exactly blind to red flags. I just wanted to vent.”

“You can be blind to red flags sometimes.” Jason muttered, quickly drowning the words with the sip of a drink.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“You’re spending time with me, instead with one of your girlfriends.”

“I don’t have girlfriends and your red flags are the reason why you are my friend and why there would never be anything else.”

Ouch. That was like a punch to the guts.

“What if there was?” he blurted without thinking, only because the bottle turned out empty and he couldn’t swallow the bile.

“What--?” with a broken word and the way her eyes focused on his face, Jason knew there was no going back. It was now or never.

“What if there was Y/N? What if there was something more…?” with a gentle touch he grabbed her coke and put it on the nearby table, instead intertwining their fingers. “What if—”

“Jason, don’t—”

“Don’t tell me to stay in the shadows while you keep dating men that can’t even take you for coffee!” he yelled and it made her stumble backwards, letting go of his hands. “Fuck! Why can’t you see it?!

“See what…?”

“You deserve –” he started, but she cut him off.

“No. No, don’t you dare tell me that I deserve someone better. I don’t really see men lining up for me” Y/N chuckled dryly “I’m not a teen anymore, soon my expiration date will come and –“

“Shut up!” he hissed, in a blink of an eye finding himself on the other side of the couch, his eyes boring a hole into her face, his hands aching to do so many things… “You deserve more than a mindless stroll in the park, not that the walk itself is a bad thing. You deserve to be spoiled and –“

“Please don’t…”

“If anything more, you at least deserve a good orgasm.” He groaned, unable to control himself anymore, eyes filled with lust and unspoken promises of pleasure.

She was so close. Once again. Only now, he wasn’t going to cross the line. It was her choice. If she wanted to walk out and close the door on him – fine. This would hurt like hell, but eventually Jason would get over it.

But it was her choice and there was no way he would take advantage of her.

As if making her hot and bothered with the look in his eyes, the closeness and the heat from his presence and words was not taking advantage.

***

Y/N was lost only for a second.

It’s been so long since she’s been touched. So long since she felt anyone in that way. And her body needed it.

God knows she needed it.

And she had no power to swim against the tide, grabbing the front of his shirt and kissing him.

***

Jason reacted instinctively.

His strong hands moved to her waist, pulling her on top of him, starting to grind against her, even through their clothes.

He was going to make her feel so good.

So fucking good, taking her to the places she’s never been before.

Only for her. Just for her.

Her.

Now not only in his thoughts and crazy fantasies, but in flesh and bone in his arms, on his couch, pliant and needy for attention.

“Jason….” His lips moved from her lips to her neck, brushing over her pulse point.

“Jason…” his hands rolled her dress up until it was on her waist.

“Jason…” the word became hoarse and breathy when he lifted her up so she was now straddling him.

And he was only just beginning.

Teasing her with one finger, pulling her panties away, feeling the wetness already seeping on his jeans. She was so ready for him just from a few touches. How touch starved and neglected she must have been if just a little foreplay was enough?

“You’re mine tonight…” he groaned into her ear. “Mine. Say it Y/N…”

“Yours…” she whimpered, shuddering at the way his index finger inched closer to her heat.

“Yeah. Mine.” For Jason it felt just right to call her his.

“Please….”

“Not yet baby.”

“Don’t be mean… You promised me—”

“A good time. And that’s exactly what you’ll get. But not like that.”

“Then what—Ah!”

Her cry of surprise tore the air as he grabbed her by the waist, lifted her in the air and carried towards the bedroom, miraculously avoiding all the stuff on the floor. Once in the room, with one hand around her, he threw the cover alongside every little thing on it onto the floor, making quite a noise. But what was a little background mess in comparison to the passion they were both experiencing right now.

They were clearly not friends now, but it was not important.

All the labels, unanswered questions and doubts left their heads as fast as their clothes started flying in all the directions. Bra on the lamp, boxers on the bedpost, shirt on the floor, a mess of clothes in the foot of the bed.

They didn’t care.

All that mattered at that moment was his lips on hers, her hands in his hair, the way his fingers kept pumping in and out of her prepping her for what was coming and the smell of her arousal in the air.

And those moans of pleasure that hit his ear made him hard enough to drill through the concrete.

“So wet…” he muttered

“So good!” she cried out arching her back, turning into a wanton, a bitch, not caring in the slightest about losing control. It felt good to just let go.

“Yeah?” he breathed out pulling fingers out of her, now coated with her juices. “Good?” Jason made sure to trace them up her body, spreading wetness on her stomach, her breasts with those deliciously pert nipples just begging to be abused and finally on her mouth. As if knowing she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from licking those plump red lips in a motion that was both innocent and obscene. “I'll show you good…”

With a groan, almost losing control, he spread her legs, hovering over her, leaning so close that his breath was hitting her face and his chest pressed against her breasts creating unbearable friction.

“Jason… Jason, please…” she squirmed, arched, begged and pleaded.

“I’ll give you everything you need…” he promised, leaning on forearms, slowly pushing inside her, mindful of every expression on her face. Only upon making sure she was feeling the pleasure and not the pain, his eyes moved lower, watching his cock disappear in her.

The dirty look that once again shuttered the fundamentals of his self-control.  

“More!” she cried out, closing eyes, grabbing his shoulders, earning a groan from him.

“Fuckin more!”

There was no interim between bottoming out and adjusting to his size and frenzied pace of lovemaking. They just went from 0 to 100 in a blink of an eye.

He was gripping the headrest, too scared to touch her body In fear he’ll break her from the force. His forearms were straining from the power in those strong arms and Y/N knew he could snap her like a branch. Instead, somewhere deep inside that lust filled brain, he was still focused on her well being and safety.

Not that she could say the same about the way his cock was thrusting. Pulling in and out of her like she was made out of a rubber, shaping her to his girth, making sure to leave the memories of that night not only in her brain but also gouging the flutes on her pussy. For she was his.

Crying out his name

Touching him.

Letting him feel that tight wetness groping him like a vice.

So fucking tight only proving the point that she didn’t get nearly enough sex as she deserved.

“Tell me-“ he gasped, leaning his forehead on hers with sweaty hair clinging to it “How many times before you’ve came-“

“I – I don’t – I can’t-„ she cried out when he lifted her hips, changing the angle hitting deeper, harder, more intensely, effectively silencing all the thoughts. All she could focus on then was matching his pace, keeping that delicious stretch going, igniting the friction, running hands all over his back, holding him tight enough to not fly out into space right away.

“Tell me baby. I need you to say it.” He muttered between ragged breath, feeling his own release knocking at the door more and more stridently.

“Ne- never!” she cried out “Please!”

“Cum for me sweetheart.” He whispered in her ear with the silent promise of catching her and keeping her safe.

And he knew she believed him when her sobs, cries and gasps of climax filled the room, completing the scent of sex with the sound of pleasure.

Perfection incarnated in the form of a sin.

***

“Go on a date with me…”

Once they both came out from their high, laying side by side in the bed-

Once he dared to let out that soft side of his feelings, tracing circles on her sensitive body –

Once the arousal and horniness was gone-

There was no regret. No oh-my-god-what-have-we-done moment.

In fact, in some crazy way, it all seemed natural. Like both Jason and Y/N knew that it was bound to happen and their sex was not an accident or a mistake.

But a date?

“I’m serious, Y/N. Go on a date with me.”

“You don’t owe me—”

“It’s not about owing, baby. I want it. To be able to hold your hand in public, to beat to pulp every single guy that comes too close to you. To kiss you under the moonlight. To walk you home after and come upstairs just to cuddle on the couch together.”

“You sure?” she teased, laying her upper body on top of his, looking into his eyes with a happy smile “that would ruin your reputation as a cold and heartless motherfucker.”

"Some people are worth sacrificing like that…”

“Must be someone special.” Y/N whispered, her heart fluttering at the sensitivity Jason was expressing now.

“She is. A one in the million.” He tangled fingers in her hair, unable to tear his eyes from her naked form next to him.

The happiest fucker in the universe.

And to think she came to his place only to have a coke and complain about a bad date.

Coke and disappointment turning into a chance at a relationship.  

[of-cauldrons-and-inkpens]

You Missed My Heart: PART 1

PART 1 LINK      |      PART 2 LINK      |   PART 3 LINK

Description: Miguel had died months ago. At least, my universe’s Miguel had died. Maybe I should have noticed when I could feel him touching me in my dreams, but grief is a hell of a thing. That is, until I woke up in a house that looked just like mine, but somehow different. 

Miguel had taken me from my universe and put me in one where he could relive his past, whether I liked it or not. 

Word Count: 11,107  Author’s Note: I wrote this instead of doing my college work, but I also didn’t proofread. Hopefully there aren’t too many typos! I’ll probably add more chapters in the following days/weeks Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, Miguel being manipulative and an ass, bit of angst (I mean his wife and child are dead so yeah)

          Minors DNI! Story is below the cut

The dream was hazy. Miguel sighed as he began to inch toward the edge of the mattress, drifting out of the shared embrace that we had slept in. Arms and legs untangled from one another as he drifted away from me.

I reached my hand outward, catching onto his hand before he could slip away for good. “I need to go to work.” He whispered, his voice husky and warm from sleep. But, despite his protest, he lay back down beside me. “Don’t go.” I said. My hands worked their way through the darkness, moving to curl around his broad shoulders. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to feel his strong heartbeat against my chest and listen to him breathe one more time. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t real. I didn’t care that this was now a soft and distorted memory; this was all I had left of him. I had convinced myself weeks ago that if I dreamed of him enough, it would almost be like he wasn’t gone. “I have to. Alchemax is unveiling a new project today and I have to be there.” He leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. His breath was warm, working as a perfect antagonist for the frigid air of our bedroom. “Please Miguel.” I begged. He cut me off by pressing his lips against mine. The kiss was languid and wet. Our bodies were still naked from the previous night’s activities as he rolled on top of me. “Miguel…” I whispered. “Please don’t leave me.” “I’m not going anywhere.” He said. His lips slipped off of mine as he lowered his face, moving so that his mouth could graze the shell of my ear. There, he whispered the one thing I thought I would never hear again. “I love you…”

Something brushed the side of my face, pulling me from my dream. I jerked upward, searching for what had caused it. But I couldn’t see through the pitch black of the bedroom. In the darkness, I was so sure that I could smell him. He had been dead for months, but his scent still lingered in the walls and all of the soft places in the house. It was to the point that I was terrified of moving or washing anything; if I did, that last piece of him would vanish forever.

Hot tears slid down my face.

I had been crying again. But that had become such a common occurrence that I couldn’t even be surprised. Tears slid down my neck, soaking into the collar of Miguel’s Alchemax t-shirt that had been worn thin. Crying had become an every night thing since the funeral. Maybe if I could understand what the hell even happened to him, then I could be okay. But there had been no information about any of it. I had been told there was an accident at work and that there was nothing that could have been done to save him. But the term accident meant so many different things.

I lifted my hand to my cheek to wipe away the next batch of tears. But, as my fingers brushed my skin, I couldn’t help but notice the distinct warmth on that side of my face.

Had someone been here?

Had the gentle brush been entirely in my head?

I swallowed hard as my eyes searched the darkness. “Miguel?” I asked. But there was no answer. The delusional part of me wanted to hear him stir inside of the bathroom that attached to the bedroom. I slid my hand outward, searching through the sheets that would always remain cold.

The black out curtains that covered my window blocked out any light from the city. The only light in the room was from the small machine that Miguel had set up in the corner. I was never sure what exactly it did, but it always gave off a pale blue glow.

I glanced around the room, seeing that the pictures were all still lying face down on the dresser and bookshelves.

Nothing was different. He was still dead, and I was still alone.

I swallowed hard as I reached for the bottle of sleeping pills that sat on the bedside table. I had gotten them after stepping off one of the curbs in Nueva York without looking. But, before anything could happen, a man had grabbed me, jerking me out of the way seconds before my body had the chance to collide with the car that was racing down the street. Maybe if I hadn’t been so exhausted, then I would have thought before I walked.

The pills were my only chance at getting any rest these days. I unscrewed the top of the bottle, dropped one of the white pills into my hand, and then replaced the white plastic lid. I discarded the bottle onto the nightstand and then popped the pill in my mouth.

I just needed to go to sleep. If I could sleep, then I could see him again.

I leaned back against the sheets, watching the walls of the hallway through the open door of our bedroom. If I hadn’t known better, I could have sworn to God that I saw a faint orange and pink glow dance against the walls before being consumed by darkness.

No dreams came. My vision was dark, trapping me in a dreamless darkness. The pills always made my body heavy with sleep; it was almost impossible to open my eyes when I was like this. I didn’t see him in my dreams, but I could hear him. His voice was faint, speaking in delicate murmurs.

Fingers brushed against the skin of my face as he pushed several of my curls behind my ears. It was something he had always done, especially when I was sitting on the couch beside him. I had always wondered if he did it so that he could see my face or if it was just his way of getting my attention. But I guess that didn’t matter now.

I flinched at the reminder.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’m here.” Miguel whispered. He pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. I felt the bed move under me, sinking on the edge as he sat down. “I’m gonna keep you safe.”

“You need to drop this.” A soft female voice said. Her voice was no more than a whisper.

“I can’t do that.” Miguel’s voice was firm; he had already made up his mind.

“Miguel, you’re torturing her. Just leave her alone.” The delicate voice pleaded. Behind my eyelids, I saw pink and honey color light flash. “Give her time. Let her mourn then let her move on. Maybe she could be happy. She could get married and have a good life.”

“Lyla, I’m not sure if you know this, but telling me that my wife is going to fuck someone else and that that’s why I should let her go has the exact opposite effect.”

“Let her be happy.” The girl pleaded.

“She should have died. I’m saving her.”

“Miguel, please let her go. Please, I really-” I heard him click something, making the second voice fall silent.

Warm arms slipped under my legs as I was overwhelmed by the smell of Miguel.

My Miguel.

He smelled faintly of cologne, sweat, and something else. He pulled me into his arms, laying my body against his strong chest. I felt him grab a heavy arm and place it on his shoulder. Beneath my fingers, I felt a weird material cover his skin.

What the hell?

I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t force myself out of the dream. The medication weighed me down, anchoring me into this strange haze.

Miguel bounced me in his arms a couple of times. I groaned, feeling him stand up. One of the blankets caught on my foot, tugging on my tired body. Miguel gently tossed the blanket onto the bed, offering a few more gentle bounces to my body as he started to walk.

“You’re going to be so happy.” He whispered. Miguel pressed a second kiss against my skin.

Blinding light came streaming through the window. I winced, lifting my hand to shield my eyes. I lay there for a moment before a thought occurred to me.

When was the last time I had been awakened by sunlight?

Miguel had always worked such random hours that we had hung thick blackout curtains over the window so that we had a chance at getting some sleep.

“What?” I pushed myself up in the bed, feeling my t-shirt drop down to cover the soft skin of my stomach. But the left side was caught on something, keeping that side of my abdomen exposed. I glanced down to see a thick bracelet that had been attached to my wrist. I pulled the shirt off of the bracelet, allowing it to fall and give me some sense of modesty as I glared at the contraption.

What the hell was this thing?

I glanced around, searching for some idea as to what was going on.

The only clue was a bright orange post-it note that had been pressed onto the bedside table. It was sitting between a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. Plucking the note off of the table, I quickly began to read it.

‘Please don’t be scared. I’ll be back soon. Take this for your head. It will take a bit to get used to all of this.’ It had been signed with a name that immediately made me shutter.

Miguel.

No. No. No.

Did I die?

Or did I finally go insane?

I pushed myself out of the bed, searching for some clue as to what the hell was going on. This was my bedroom. At least, it looked like it was. The closet was the same, the bookshelves were the same, even the weird off-blue shade that Miguel had picked for the walls was the exact same.

It was then that something caught my eye. All of the pictures were sitting upright. I could see our mutual smiles behind the glass. They were photos of us on dates, photos of us at the weird events that Alchemax held, and even some of the more intimate photos we had taken of us in bed with our bodies barely covered by the thin ocean of sheets.

I stepped forward, moving toward the closet. I jerked one of Miguel’s button-ups off of the hanger and inspected it. The spot where he had spilled wine on the cuff was missing. Instead, the material was bleach white.

This was wrong. This was all wrong.

Everything was familiar, but still foreign somehow. There were sheets that were the same color but didn’t have soft faded patches that had been acquired from stains during love making. There were clothes that I remembered wearing, but they didn’t have the small tears or stains in them. Everything was put together from memory, but it wasn’t my memory.

If I didn’t look too closely at it, it could almost be perfect.

Slowly, I stepped forward. As I moved toward the dresser, I stopped. In my home, my real home, there was a creak in the floorboard. Miguel had spent an entire weekend trying to fix it after we had moved in, but it was all in vain.

Maybe I was just paranoid. That was the only solution.

I leaned backward, then forward again in an attempt to get the floor to creak.

A deafening silence filled the room.

I reached down and pulled at the bracelet. It was heavy on my arm. I slipped my fingers under the band, attempting to pry it off of me. But it was no use. It had been secured at the base, making it impossible to remove.

Then, I did the only thing I could think of.

I ran.

I bolted from the bedroom, moving down the hallway. When I reached the stairs, I took them two by two. Frankly, I was amazed that I didn’t slip and break my neck. But fear is a hell of a motivator. I sprinted through the living room, searching for the front door of our house. I threw open the front door and rushed outside, ignoring the fact that I wore only a thin t-shirt and underwear.

I needed to get the hell out of there; I didn’t care about being modest at this point.

It was Nueva York; the buildings were the same, so was the noise. Sounds of construction, traffic, children playing, and music blasting filled the air. But, I couldn’t help but notice the main thing that was missing: no people or vehicles.

“Hello?” I called.

But I was all alone.

“Hello?” I screamed.

Something grabbed my hand, jerking me backwards. I stumbled but was caught before I could collide with the pavement. Strong arms curled around my waist and hauled me upward. I flailed my arms and kicked out my legs in an attempt to get free, but it was no use. The figure turned around and began to carry me back to the house as if I was nothing more than a doll. “You weren’t supposed to leave the house.”

I knew that voice. It was the one that haunted my dreams and filled my every ‘what-if.’

Miguel.

“What the fuck?” I screamed.

“Stop trying to fight me.” His voice was flat. I glanced behind me to look at him. He wasn’t my Miguel. His eyes flickered somewhere between chocolate brown and blood red. The muscles on his shoulders were more defined and the line between his eyebrows was deeper. But maybe that was because of the dark scowl that he wore as he carried me up the small steps of the brownstone.

When he stepped inside of the house, he threw me onto the hardwood floor. As my head hit the floor, he reached behind him and flipped the deadbolt.

That was to make sure that I didn’t try and escape again.

Miguel wasn’t dressed how I was used to. My Miguel always wore some kind of standard, normal clothes. Nicer clothes for work, soft pants, and sweatshirts at home. But this man, the imposter, wore a red and blue costume that stretched over his hard muscles and accentuated his domineering frame.

“You were supposed to wait. I said I would be back soon.”

“Who the hell are you?” I twisted my body so that I was sitting up on the hardwood floor. I pulled my legs close to my body, attempting to hide my thin underwear from him.

“You’re joking right?” He asked. He stood over me, inspecting me with a look of both confusion and disappointment.

“No, I’m not. And what the hell did you put on my arm?” I shook my wrist, trying to loosen the device.

“Stop trying to take it off. If you do, you’ll die. Unless that’s what you’re hoping for.” He said as he studied me. I froze.

“What?”

“It keeps you alive in this universe. You’re not from here; you don’t belong here, so if you take that off, you’ll glitch until you die.”

I glanced around the room, taking in all of the little imperfections. The room was wrong, reminding me that I was in some kind of strange prison.

“What is all of this?” I asked. Miguel stared at me at if the answer was so obvious.

“It’s our home.”

“No… no, it isn’t.” I said. “What did you do to me?” I pushed myself off of the floor. As I did, I pulled at the bottom of the t-shirt. The man stared at me, his eyes dancing between the terrified look on my face at the pale skin of my naked legs. As his eyes drank me in, I could see them turning to a deeper shade of red.

“Who are you?” I asked. He let out a dark chuckle. As he did, I couldn’t help but notice that sharp white fangs that protruded from his mouth.

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t call me that.” I said. He rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’ve been very sweet to you. But now you’re starting to piss me off.” His voice was sharper this time. He moved toward me and I stepped back.

“Why do you look like him?” I asked. He knew exactly what I meant.

“Because I am him… in a way.”

“I don’t understand.” I said. He once again tried to fill the distance between the two of us. I stepped backward, feeling my back hit the side of the couch. “You died… he died.”

“In your universe, yes. Please call me Miguel. I know this may be new to you, but I am your husband, just a different version of him. I mean you no harm.” The dull ache from being thrown on the floor said differently. “I did all of this because I love you.”

“You don’t know me.” I said. I slid my hands against the side of the couch in an attempt to find something to cling to. He let out a dry laugh.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I know you in every single universe. I’ve known more versions of you than you can imagine. Versions where you live, versions where you die. So, in a way, I know you better than you even know yourself.”

“If you knew me so well, then you would know Miguel and I never married.”

“Purely semantics. Besides, that’s something that I fully intend on correcting.”

“You’re insane.” I said.

“Don’t fucking call me that. You have no idea how hard I worked to fix everything for you; how hard I worked to make sure that everything would be perfect.”

“Miguel, where the fuck am I?” I demanded. “And I don’t want you to keep saying I’m home. This isn’t my home. Where am I?”

“You could be a little bit more grateful. You should have died.” He said. “You weren’t supposed to be pulled out of the way of a car and you were.”

Anger flashed through me. Just looking at him filled me with a mixture of rage and sadness that mixed together in a sludge that did nothing but make me want scream at him. “I’m supposed to be dead? You’re dead! I went to your funeral! There’s a goddamn sign in the Alchemax lobby for you.” My throat burned and my eyes stung with tears. “Was that all some kind of sick lie?”

“No, your Miguel did die.” His voice was matter of fact- almost cold. It was as if he had said this all a million times before. Hell, for all I knew, he had. Maybe this was some kind of sick game he liked to play. “But, that’s no matter. I’m here now. I made a little pocket universe for you; where you can live and where you being here won’t affect anything. You can stay here with me, and things will be exactly as they should be.” I glanced at the locked door behind him. “You being here won’t affect any other universe and it keeps you out of your own, making sure that all of the canon events happen exactly as they should. The canon is safe and you get to live. Two birds, one stone.” He was so proud of himself.

“Do I have a choice in staying with you?”

His face twitched at my question. “I’ve watched you cry for him at night. I’ve heard you scream and beg for him to come back. You wear his clothes and listen to his music and talk to yourself like he’s still there. For God’s sake, I’ve watched you touch yourself to pictures of him. I just assumed you would have had a warmer reception to me.”

“You had no right to spy on me.” I winced, remembering the feeling of my face being touched in my sleep. He had been there, watching me as I mourned. Besides, there was something in the way he emphases a warmer reception. He was hoping I would immediately adore him and drag him into the bedroom to screw until I couldn’t walk straight. He wanted us to immediately slip into some weird little habit where I pretended to be his loving wife. He said I died in other universes. Was I his replacement, just as he hoped to be mine?

Miguel sucked on his teeth before he stepped forward.

Without thinking, I twisted my body around and bolted toward the kitchen. I had no idea where I was even going; I just wanted to be away from him.

I got about five steps away before he reached outward and grabbed me. This time, his hold was harder. His arms crushed themselves against my body as he lifted me upward and began to carry me toward the stairs. This time, he was holding me so tight that I was sure he was going to break my ribs.

“You’re hurting me.” I gasped.

“Then stop trying to leave me.” He said. “You’re not going to get far and you’re just going to end up hurting yourself.”

He carried me up the stairs, his eyes dark red in the dim light. He carried me to the bedroom at the end of the hall. When he reached the room, he looked down at me.

“Say you love me.” It was a second chance. I paused for a moment, trying to find a way to fake sincerity.

He wasn’t my Miguel. He wasn’t my angel who I curled up with on the couch or who insisted on making me listen to old music that nobody but him would ever like. This man didn’t have that gentleness about him; he wasn’t sweet or loving.

“I love you.” I tried. I knew I sounded like I was faking it.

“At least I know you’re a shitty actress.” He muttered. He dropped me on the floor of the bedroom and then stepped outside before I had a chance to make another getaway. He slammed the door shut.

“Miguel, please let me out.”

“Ah, now you want to be nice to me.” He mocked.

“You kidnapped me. I’m sorry if I’m not the person you were hoping for. If you want someone better, just get a different me from some other place. I’m sure the universe is just littered with them.”

“I saved you. Your universe would have collapsed if it weren’t for me. I offered you the chance to live in a different place, where none of that can ever hurt you and you hate me for it. You want to be pissed? Be my guest. But in time, you’ll love me. I know you will. You always do.”

“Yeah, Miguel, it doesn’t feel like you’re giving me a choice in the matter.” I said. “Why can’t you just find another girl? Anyone else?”

“It has to be you. Because it always is, no matter what. Every time, we end up together so I can’t just grab some random person. Besides, there aren’t too many of you who aren’t already with some version of me. Stealing wives from other versions of me just sounds wrong.”

Yeah, that would be the wrong part. Not the whole kidnapping thing. He keeps flipping between lunatic and romantic who is waxing poetic about our deep love. Maybe I would have been charmed if I had actually known this man. Plus, there was something weird about the way he said it. Had he considered it? How did he find widows versus wives?

“Miguel, sweetheart, how about you let me out of here and then we can find some kind of arrangement that we both like?”

He rolled his eyes as he locked the door from the outside. “When you decide to be the version of you that I know and love, then we can talk.”

Bastard.

I kicked the door, but I knew it was useless. He was already walking away from the door. In the distance, I heard his voice as he began to speak to someone else.

“Lyla, I’m a little busy right now.”

“It’s urgent.” She said.

It was hours before he came back. I didn’t hear him when he was stepping toward the door. I only heard him when he unlocked the door and let out a low sigh.

“I brought you dinner. It’s in the kitchen. I expect you to eat dinner with me tonight.” He said.

“Thank you.” I squeaked out. I hadn’t eaten since the night before. I was starving. Besides, if this was his idea at a peace offering, who was I to reject. He obviously didn’t want to return me to my real home. Maybe I should just get used to this. “I’ll be down in a minute. I want to clean up a little bit.” I said.

“I’ll get everything ready.” He said. With that, I heard him step away from the door of the bedroom. At least he was receptive to me needing a moment, rather than dragging me downstairs to eat right now.

I sighed to myself as I pushed myself off of the bed. I couldn’t just wear a t-shirt and underwear. I already looked like an absolute mess. My face was swollen from crying and my curls had turned into a frizzy mess from being manhandled so many times in the last twenty-four hours.

My best bet was a shower to calm me down and hopefully take away some of the puffy redness around my eyes and nose. I didn’t want him to see that I had sobbed when I was alone; he may have carted me around in my underwear, but I still had my dignity.

There was a small bathroom attached to the room. It was one that I was familiar with. It was exactly like the one at my house; there weren’t any superficial tweaks that he had made. At least, none that I could see upon first inspection.

I quickly showered, scrubbing my body gently as I went. As I slid a loofah along the sides of my body, I winced. Dark bruises were starting to blossom across my ribs from where he had squeezed as he carried me.

Damn it, that hurt!

I winced as I washed my body, careful not to aggravate any new sore spots that I had gotten. I then washed my hair, making sure that it was nice and clean.

Stepping out of the tub, I realized that I hadn’t grabbed a towel. I was sure that he would put them where I always did. After all, that was really the only place for them in the bathroom. I quickly ducked down and pulled open the door to the bathroom cabinet. The towels had been stacked on one side, random trinkets and things he had brought for me rested on the other. I snatched a towel from the pile as I eyed the objects.

They were the usual fair, mixed in with a few oddballs. Tampons, deodorant, razors, women’s shaving cream, a perfume that I wore pretty often, a couple of bottles of hand and body lotion, a toothbrush, toothpaste, an eyelash curler, a new tube of mascara, hair gel, and a dozen or so other hair things. I sighed and quickly added several of the things to the counter. I needed to brush my teeth and do my hair. As I stacked those things on the counter, I couldn’t help but notice that there were more things resting against the very back of the shelf. Against the wall sat two small pink boxes that were still in their clear wrapping from the drugstore. I frowned as I pulled them forward, moving them closer so that I could see them. The first was a new box of pregnancy tests. I shook the box; sure enough, it actually contained what it said it did. Part of me expected the box to be a decoy and to either be empty or filled with something outwardly sinister, like a camera. Why did he buy me pregnancy tests? I flipped the second box over and was greeted by a bulk box of ovulation test strips, meant to check for when I was ovulating. I winced equally at both of the packages. I quickly shoved them back into the cabinet and closed the door.

Part of me wanted to know why those were what he chose to buy me; the other part was scared to know the answer.

I quickly stood up and began to dry off. It was a short time between when I finished showering and when I stepped out into the bedroom, my hair styled with my curls down, my teeth brushed, and my skin dried of any excess water.

Stepping to the closet, I noticed that all of the dresses in the closet were too formal. Most of the clothes that I typically wore were missing. No t-shirts, jeans, or even standard pajamas. Damn it, Miguel. I quickly walked over to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer.

Based on what was there, my best bet was the baby pink nightie that lay on the top of the pile of clothes. It was obviously new; a tag was still attached to the spaghetti strap and frankly, I had never seen it before, so I figured that it was something he had picked out himself.

I pulled the dress on, wincing when it stopped several inches above my knees. I pulled on a pair of underwear and then snagged a grey cardigan from the closet in an attempt to have a chance at being warm.

What I was wearing was closer to lingerie than actual clothing, but that didn’t seem to matter at this point. He had dragged me around twice in my underwear, on top of the fact that he said he had watched me touch myself to him. My face burned at that thought.

Besides, if he was right and we were always together, then none of this would be new to him. But maybe it would make him be nicer to me if he thought I was being nicer to him.

I stepped through the hallway, careful not to lose my footing in the dim light. As I went, I couldn’t help but notice one of the more glaring differences between my universe and this was. The door to the room that rested next to the bedroom wasn’t stained with its dark russet shade. He had painted this door yellow. That was clearly a recent change; the air still smelled heavily of paint. But why the hell had he painted it in the first place? Maybe he was used to it being a different color and was perfecting it to fit his little fantasy.

I made my way downstairs. He was sitting in the small breakfast nook that rested in the kitchen. He had set out the white plates and arranged the food so that I had easy access to everything. As I rounded the corner, he glanced upward. Something stirred in his dark eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Miguel was sitting at the table, pushing around an eggroll with a plastic fork. He had changed out of his standard red and blue spider suit into an old sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants.

Lucky bastard.

He looked tired. He had a dark stain of blood on his left cheek and I was sure that it wasn’t his. I didn’t want to think about whether or not the owner of that blood was still alive, because I knew there was a good chance they weren’t. I watched him for a moment before I stepped away from the table. He frowned, watching me closely. I was sure he was watching to verify that I didn’t make another run for it. I quickly pulled a washcloth out of one of the lower cabinets by the sink and then turned on the faucet. Once the water ran warm, I wet the rag, wrung it out so that it wasn’t dripping, and then I turned off the water.

I stepped back into the small dining area. “Miguel.” I said in an attempt to get his attention. His tired eyes drifted up to meet mine. The eyes that were once a burning red were now a warm brown. They were almost the shade of coffee. He watched me with such an intensity that it made my face turn a dark maroon. I was sure that he noticed, but he didn’t remark on it.

I leaned down slightly, moving so that my standing height could line up with his sitting size. God, he was so damn tall. “Miguel, here. You have blood on your face.” He reached up to take the cloth but was surprised when I gently pressed the warm material to his face. “Just hold still for a second.” I whispered. For a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had changed out of his suit for comfort or if it was just as coated in blood as his face was. The idea made me shudder internally.

I gently wiped away the dried blood, folding the cloth as I went so that I didn’t rub old blood against his face. When I reached the hollow of his cheek, I slipped one hand under his strong jaw and had him tilt his face to the side in an attempt to give me a better angle. He closed his eyes, giving in to the gentle touch.

He was touch starved. I could tell by the way his breathing slowed and the hairs on his arm stood on end. He wasn’t used to being touched; not anymore. Not in any way that offered any kind of tenderness.

“There you go. All clean.” I said. He opened his eyes and he nodded. His eyes then dipped downward toward my dress.

“Nice outfit.”

“It would appear that most of my actual clothing is gone. So, I have plenty of clothing for the bustling city life outside and I have plenty of lingerie, but everything else is a bit sparse.”

A smile pulled at his lips with my comment. Then, he nodded. “I’ll bring you your clothes from your home universe.”

“Thank you.” I said. Miguel leaned forward and grabbed a container of orange chicken.

He had ordered us Chinese food. It was something that I couldn’t help but note was the same as we had had on our first date. I glanced at the label and confirmed that it was the same restaurant and everything. We had eaten there the night we had first met. We had dipped out of a party at Alchemax early. I hadn’t wanted to be there, but my father had worked there for so many years that it almost felt like an obligation. When I had turned to leave too fast, I knocked wine all over Miguel, but he hadn’t seemed to mind.

“Are you okay?” This Miguel asked. I quickly nodded as I was pulled from the distant memory.

“I am. Thank you for dinner.” I pushed a small amount of food onto my plate and then returned the container to the center of the table.

“You need to eat; really eat.” He said. His brown eyes danced over my face as he searched for something in my gaze. He was hoping to find some kind of love there; a familiarity or affection that I could offer him.

“I feel sick.”

“That’s just because you aren’t used to being in a different universe. Consider it like jet lag. You’ll get used to it in a few days.” He noticed when I didn’t move to eat. I stared into space, feeling my previous convictions about being sweet to him begin to slip away. “I could always make you eat.” He said.

“You wouldn’t do that.” I muttered. He let out a low sigh and then returned to his food. He wasn’t going to argue with me. Or maybe I was right; maybe there were some things he wouldn’t be willing to do to me. But he had walked in sporting horror-movie levels of blood on his skin. So, who knows?

“Is there anything that’s bothering you?” He asked. “You can always ask me.”

“Are you going to lock me up in my room again if you don’t like the question?” I asked. He didn’t respond.

Tread lightly, I guess.

“Why do you look different than my Miguel?”

“I’m Spiderman. Your Miguel wasn’t. He was close, but he didn’t quite get there before…” His voice faded off. He was trying to be sensitive to me, in his own fucked up way. Or maybe his own narcissism wouldn’t allow him to talk about his failures, even in a different universe.

“Do all Spidermen look like you?” I asked.

“Are they all so devastatingly handsome? Afraid not, sweetheart. They don’t usually look the same. Hell, they can look like anything. I found one that’s literally a cartoon pig. But appearances aside, they can mostly do the same things: climb walls, shoot webs, the whole lot.”

“Ah.” I said. “Do they all have the…” I tapped my finger to my teeth, motioning for the fangs that protruded anytime he spoke. He shrugged.

“That seems to be a thing entirely unique to me.”

Did I sense a bit of insecurity there?

He furrowed his brow as he turned his attention to the dinner plate. Damn it, now I felt bad.

Why the hell did I feel bad for hurting his feelings? He kidnapped me and had dragged me around like a rag doll. But I couldn’t ignore the guilt that started to brew inside of me.

I sighed as I moved closer to him. Even if he was my captor, I couldn’t help but see him as the man who I still loved. Even if that ended at the physical resemblance. I slid to the edge of my chair and reached my arm out for his face. My fingers slid against the rough stubble of his jaw, tracing the side of his face for a moment. He leaned his head to the side, moving into my touch.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. He nodded, lifting a hand upward. He laid his fingers on top of mine, holding my hand there against his skin. God, he was burning up. Did he always feel like this? Maybe he was actually sick. My Miguel never ran this warm. Or maybe it was just a side-effect of the spider bite. I didn’t understand any of that well enough to question it and I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask about it.

Suddenly, something clattered to the ground in the kitchen, making me jump. I pulled my hand back from his face, feeling the reality of the situation settle in. I slid my hand back into my lap, watching as his eyes lingered on for entirely too long. His brown eyes swam with a deep want. He wanted me to keep touching him.

Maybe sleeping with him would knock him out of this lovesick spell. Or maybe it would only make it worse. He stared at me, moony eyed and desperate. He was Miguel, even if he wasn’t my version of him. Maybe he could genuinely love me, even if only in his own fucked up way.

“If you loved him so deeply, do you think you could ever love me the same way?” He asked.

“Miguel…” I said. His face twitched slightly. I couldn’t say no; maybe I could, eventually. Or maybe he would become crueler, and I would hate him every second of my life. I didn’t know what to tell him. He leaned back in his chair, his face twisting in an attempt to conceal a deep pain.

Change the conversation quick. Change it before the night could descend in chaos with either us screaming at one another or him locking me in the room again. Or maybe he would just send me back to my own universe to die. After all, if he couldn’t get what he wanted from me, then there was no use in keeping me here.

He made a low noise and then returned to eating, never saying anything about how I had dismissed him.

“Why did you paint the door in the hallway?” I asked. He paused, trying to think up an answer. Then, he swallowed his dinner and shook his head.

“Just decided that it looked better that way.”

“But why? What was wrong with the original color?”

“Does it really bother you that much that I changed one thing?” He asked. His voice had an edge to it now. I clearly was not supposed to ask about the door. But why? It was just a damn door.

“No, but it’s weird that that is the one thing you decided to change. I figured that there was probably a reason.” He rolled his eyes as he took another big bite of food.

“Can’t you just be happy? Most people would overjoyed if they had the opportunity that you do.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure that most people would just love to be stolen from their bed by their boyfriend’s psycho twin. Frankly, that’s every woman’s dream.” My voice was dripping with so much sarcasm that he rolled his eyes. “How long are you planning on keeping this up? This isn’t the Truman Show. You can’t just keep me locked up here for the rest of my life so that you can get your kicks spying on me. And I’m not going to act out some fifties sitcom for you.”

“You don’t have to. I just want you to be… you. Or, as close to it as possible.” He said. As close to me as possible… the words rattled around in my head for a moment.

“You want me to be her.” His face twitched. “I lost him and you lost someone who looks exactly like me.”

Dear God, that was exactly it. All of my suspicions were correct. I was supposed to play house with him, while pretending to be a very specific version of myself that he had once loved. I had to be the perfect version of his wife; the one who doted on and loved him, or else this was all for nothing.

“Have you ever read The Great Gatsby?” I asked. He stared at me, his gaze littered with something.

“Tread lightly, sweetheart.”

“The book is about a man who tries to relive his past. He is so sure that repeating everything and making little adjustments will fix his world.” I swallowed hard, trying to make sure he understood what I was saying. I wasn’t his toy; I wasn’t meant to be wound up to perform for him. “Miguel, you can’t fix things by redoing them. People die. You have to let them go. If your wife died, you need to let her go.”

“I don’t hear you saying that about him.” He sneered.

“That’s because I didn’t kidnap you. I was willing to let you… to let him go.” All of the terms were confusing. This man looked like my Miguel, but he wasn’t. He was a different version of him, which I guess could also make him him, just a different kind. God, I was confusing myself.

“That’s bullshit. I know you want him back. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way you look at me.”

“I think what you’re seeing is a mixture of fear and your own reflection.”

“You love me.” He said.

“I don’t know you, Miguel. I don’t know who you are. I know who you look like, but that doesn’t really help your situation.” I paused for a long moment. “How did she die?” I asked. He shook his head.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” He snapped. I flinched at his words.

“I have the right to know how she died.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t even know how your own husband died and you think you have the right to pry into my life.” With that, he pushed himself up from the table.

He tossed the plate into the sink and it shattered against the metal of the basin. I heard him swear in Spanish under his breath. He was pissed but he hadn’t meant to do that. Maybe that was just an every day occurrence with spider strength.

He began to head to the archway that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house. As he stepped, I heard him swearing under his breath. I also heard my name several times.

“Miguel, where are you going?” I asked.

“You hate me so much, maybe it would be better if I wasn’t around.”

“Miguel, where are you going?” I repeated. He muttered more words under his breath. I watched as he pushed several buttons on the sides of his wrist device. He flipped a top piece on the metal bracelet.

“Lyla-“ he started.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I pushed myself up from the table, following him as he left the kitchen. He didn’t reply. I rounded the corner, following as he stepped into the living room. Upon entering, I was nearly blinded by a massive orange and pink hole that swirled and twisted in the center of the room. With every step he took, he drifted closer to it.

So, that was how he managed to leave and then come back. If what he wore on his wrist was capable of doing it, I wondered if mine was, too. No, surely not. The intent was to keep me here; giving me an opportunity to escape would defeat the entire purpose. He said that if I took it off, I would die. I had no choice but to believe him on that front.

“Miguel.” Still no answer. “Where are you going?” He stepped toward the portal without a sound.

“Miguel, where the hell are you going?” I repeated.

He rolled his eyes as he glanced down at the device on his wrist.

“If you leave, what the hell am I supposed to do? There aren’t any people outside. I’m going to have to guess that all of the buildings are empty. Are you coming back? Am I going to starve to death? What if I get hurt? What if I fall down the stairs and die? When the hell are you coming back? How am I supposed to contact you?” The words fell out of my mouth so fast that I didn’t have the chance to consider if these were stupid questions.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” He scoffed. But he didn’t offer me any kind of actual answer.  

“Miguel, you said you were my husband. You can’t just abandon me.” He flinched, but he still did not turn around. “Please…” I begged. If he left, I was stranded. At least with him here, I was guaranteed human contact and sustenance.

“Miguel, I need you.” I said. As the words left my mouth, I did the only thing I could think of to get his attention. I slid my hand up to the cardigan and quickly slipped it off of my shoulders. He didn’t seem to notice or care when it dropped to the ground below me. I then reached upward and grabbed onto the thin spaghetti straps of the pink nightgown. Without hesitation, I pulled them over either shoulder, allowing the gown to slide entirely off my body and pool onto the floor at my feet.

“Miguel.” I repeated. This time, my voice was no louder than a whisper. That was enough to get his attention. Or maybe he had heard the dress gather on the floor at my feet. I swallowed hard, feeling the cold bite at my bare skin. I was standing almost naked in the middle of the living room, wearing only a thin pair of underwear that offered very little coverage.

Miguel glanced backward. His eyes caught expanse of my bare skin and I swore I saw him smile.

“Don’t leave.” I said. I lifted my hands and crossed my arms. It was a force of habit. I felt so exposed like this. Though, I quickly lowered my hands, knowing that getting his attention was my best chance at him staying.

He turned around to face me. “Please say something, Miguel.” I whispered. The longer I went without a reaction, the more I started to feel like an idiot for this. Maybe I had just made myself look stupid in front of him. Or, better yet, maybe this was something his wife wouldn’t have done; maybe this would make him send me back home to die.

He slunk forward, a predator approaching prey. I saw the portal swirl into a smaller and smaller hole in the universe. Then, it closed, leaving us alone in the dim light of the living room.

Miguel moved so that he was only a few inches in front of me. The material of his shirt grazed my naked skin, making me wince. The shirt was too rough against my goosebump littered flesh. He stared down at me. As he did, his eyes turned from warm brown to a deep red again.

His palm drifted up to cup my cheek. His skin burned to the touch. I swallowed hard, feeling his fingers stroke the side of my face. It was almost as if he was petting me; like I was a toy for him to play with. He leaned down. His lips grazed the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Let me know if I hurt you.”

“Huh?” He pressed his mouth against mine, hard. His lips were warm as he began to work them, moving them so that they forced my mouth open. I moaned, overwhelmed by it all. As his lips slid against mine, I was sure that I would be bruised tomorrow.

A fang brushed my bottom lip, making me gasp. “Gentle, Miguel.” I whispered.

“Sorry.” His warm breath covered my face. He smelled intoxicating. He straightened his stance, moving away from me. When he pulled away, I let out an audible whimper.

God, please tell me I didn’t genuinely want him. I swallowed hard, feeling myself getting slick between my thighs. I was sure that if he looked, he would see a spot forming in my underwear.

I wanted to hold him. I tried to grab his shoulders, but our heights were too off. He was too tall for me to grab hold of. I pushed myself onto my tippy toes, but even that wasn’t enough. I was still too short for him. Miguel noticed this and leaned downward, allowing me to curl my arms around his strong shoulders.

“That’s my girl.” He slipped his hands down and curled his fingers around my bare thighs. He jerked my body upward. I curled my legs around his hips. He was already getting hard, causing his pajama bottoms to strain.

Miguel stepped forward, carrying me up the stairs. I knew where we were going: the bedroom. I pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. Even in the dark, I could tell he smiled.

He was getting exactly what he had wanted. But I couldn’t bring myself to make it all stop. I wanted him. I had craved him for so long and here he was. He wasn’t my Miguel, but maybe he wouldn’t die. He was stronger than my Miguel. Maybe that would allow him to stick around.

He twisted the door handle, leaving deep dents in the shape of his fingers in the cold metal. He was trying his hardest to be gentle with me, but I knew it was a battle he would most likely lose.

He tossed me on the bed, throwing me just a tad too hard. I landed on the opposite side of the mattress, groaning as my head almost collided with the wooden headboard. “Miguel.”

“I know, I know.” He teased. He flipped his hand over, shooting a fine web that caught my ankle. “Come here, sweetheart.” He rolled the webbing around his fingers, pulling it tight. I gasped, feeling my body sliding across the sheets. He dragged me down to the edge of the bed.

“Miguel!” I squealed. He smirked as he pressed his knees into the bed, pulling me so that I was only a few inches away from him. He pulled the web off my skin, making sure that it didn’t hurt me.

“Do you do that a lot?” I asked.

“As often as you, sweetheart. Next time, I can web you to the headboard.” My face flashed bright red. He chuckled.

Miguel reached down and grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt. He hauled it upward, pulling it over his head before discarding it on the floor. Taut muscles danced under his skin. Every inch of him was bound in hard muscle, covered in perfect skin.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my knee. His fingers wandered up my thighs, feeling my bare skin. He pushed his other hand into the mattress.

“Miguel, please.”

“Please what?” He asked. I took his free hand in mine and guided it up to my chest. He moaned, offering a soft squeeze.

Miquel scrambled up to my chest. He caught my nipple in his mouth and moaned, licking the sensitive skin as he sucked. His fingers kneaded my other breast, stopping every once in a while to offer the hard peak a gentle pinch.

I brushed my fingers through his dark hair. He smiled against my skin, releasing my nipple from his mouth. “What?” I asked.

“Let me know if I’m too rough with you.” With that he slinked down to the warm skin of my thighs. He traced his lips across the bare skin. As he went, he opened his lips to gently suck and kiss the bare flesh. Every so often I would feel a burst of pain that lasted no longer than a second. He mumbled something against my skin. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, moving so that I could see what he was doing.

Another sharp pain shot through my left thigh as he buried his face in my skin. Miguel glanced upward, feeling my eyes on him. His fangs had nipped my bare skin, making me yelp. “I’ll be more gentle.” His voice was warm and weighted with lust.

He slipped upward and slid his fingers under the waist of my panties. He bit the material with his teeth. I heard him snip the material and rolled my eyes.

“You can’t do that to all of my clothes. I barely have any to begin with.”

“I’ll buy you whatever you want.” He pressed a warm kiss against my bare hip. Then, he moved to the other side. He repeated the same action, slicing through the material using his fangs. He placed a kiss on that side, as well.

“You’re such a showoff.”

“Am not.”

“You could have just pulled them off of me the normal way.” I fought back a laugh.

“I can bench press a city bus. I don’t need to showoff to you. Besides, learn to have some sense of romance.” He threw the remains of the panties onto the floor. He immediately pressed a soft kiss against the mound that had been covered by my underwear.  

He was extremely careful when he shifted downward. But the dull ache on the skin of my thighs where he had bit made me want to make my only request. “Hey, no teeth.”

“Funny, that’s what I always tell you.” He muttered. I rolled my eyes. “Lay back and hush up.”

“You’re so damn bossy.” I shifted on the mattress, spreading my legs wider for him. He placed his hand across my folds and gently spread them to expose my clit. He flicked his tongue across my clit. “Fuck, Miguel.” I lifted my hips off the bed, moving closer to his face.

He started to work, flicking his tongue over my clit as the index finger on his free hand traced my opened. He collected my wetness on his finger, sliding it around to make sure that I was good to go. Then, he slipped in his middle and index finger, sinking in until his knuckles touched my pussy.

I moaned, feeling his tongue work its magic.

Fuck, he was good at this.

He curled his fingers inside of me, brushing my sweet spot. I grabbed the back of his head, feeling his head bob under my palm as he licked.

Then, something occurred to me. He knew every inch of my body because he had fucked me thousands of times in the past. Even if it wasn’t me, it was a girl who was exactly like me. Maybe I was just that predicable. Or maybe he was just that good.

He picked up his speed, lapping between my folds as I curled my fingers in his hair. I was close and he could feel it. He could feel the twitches and miniatures spasms on his tongue as he worked. “Miguel, I’m close!” I whimpered.

He licked faster. Suddenly, pleasure shot through me, filling me with a white-hot heat. I moaned, spasming around his fingers as I came undone.

Miguel whispered something into my thigh as he pushed himself off the bed. Then, he pulled down his pajama bottoms, allowing for his cock to spring upward. It smacked against his lower stomach, heavy and decorated with a dark vein that ran along the underside. He kicked his pants off into the floor and then crawled on top of me.

He pressed a soft kiss on my lips. I could taste myself on his lips.

“This may hurt at first. I won’t move until you’re ready.” He said. He reached down between us. I watched as he grabbed his dick, stroked himself twice, and then lined himself up with my entrance. Without another word, he slid inside, making me gasp. I curled my legs around his hips, pulling him in deep as possible. “That’s my girl.”

I was overwhelmed with a stretching sensation. Arms rested on either side of my head as he stayed in place, waiting for me. After a moment, I leaned forward and kissed him, giving him the go ahead. One hand drifted up to my face. He caressed my cheek and his lips glided against mine.

He drew his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out. Then, thrusted upward, hitting deep inside of me. I gasped into his mouth. “I forgot how tight you are.” He murmured, his words slurring together.

My hands slid down his muscled back as he started to fuck himself into me. All the while, he kept his mouth on mine. I could feel his heart beating against my chest as he worked.

“Miguel…” I moaned, rocking my hips against him. I could feel my lower stomach tightening.

Suddenly, he whispered my name. It was so gentle that it was almost unsettling, considering the circumstances. I glanced up to meet his gaze. But as my eyes met his, he dipped downward. He buried his face in the curve of my neck so that I couldn’t see his eyes.

“Miguel, what’s wrong?”

He rutted his hips upward, burying himself as deep as possible. I gasped, digging my nails into his back. Despite how hard I had sunk them in, they didn’t break the skin. He was indestructible… at least, physically. I slid one hand across the skin of his back, moving to his dark hair. I could have sworn I heard him murmuring something into my neck. I could feel his lips moving against my skin, offering some kind of low prayer. But to who?

“Miguel…” He pulled his hips back again and then quickly slid inside of me again, grinding his hips against me to get a reaction. I gasped, tightening my hold on his hair.

“Say you love me.” His voice was dreamy, and his words slurred from pleasure.

“What?” I asked. It caught me off guard.

“Say it.”

“I love you.” I felt his hips still their movements. He was weighing the authenticity of my words. After a moment, he lifted his head from my neck.

“Say it again.” His eyes peered into mine. He was searching for something in my stare.

“I love you.”

“Good girl.” With that, he continued to beat into me, groaning when I would tense around him.

We were both close. I could tell by the chorus of whimpers and moans that were filling the room. That familiar tightening in my stomach was close to coming entirely undone.

He pivoted his hips, hitting the perfect spot inside of me. Miguel stared down at my features. He wanted something very specific from me before he finished. He ground his hips, making me gasp.

Fucking hell, Miguel.

With that, I felt myself come undone. Pleasure shot through me, making me clamp down on his dick. He grunted, never stopping his movements. “Miguel, I love you!” He groaned at my words. He kept hitting deep inside of me, making sure to grind himself against me every couple of thrusts.

His orgasm overtook him. He groaned my name as he gave one final thrust, hitting deep. I felt his body tense under my hands.

Slowly, we both came down from our highs. We were dragged back to the reality of the bedroom. The day had faded into night, leaving us in darkness.

He had finished inside of me. I could feel a deep warmth inside of my stomach. I also felt a distinct wetness that was hard to ignore. I sighed, relaxing into the mattress. I unhooked my legs, waiting for him to slide out of me. But, instead, he reached behind him and closed my legs again.

“No…” He murmured. Then, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against my lips. In this position, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. It was so intimate; so loving. Maybe he really did see me as his wife. He pressed another gentle kiss against my mouth. I closed my eyes, giving into the softness of the moment.

“You have to do something for me.” He said. I opened my eyes to look at him.

“Okay.”

“I want you to love me like you loved him. I want you to look at me like I’m your hero and that I’m special.” He inhaled sharply before he reached forward to brush one of my curls off of my forehead. “I want you to care if I die.”

I nodded. What other option was there? I was trapped in his little universe; it’s not like I could ever leave or be with anyone else. Besides, we were still literally connected at the hip.

After what felt like an eternity, he slid out of me. He leaned back on the balls of his feet to inspect me. I immediately closed my legs, though that did little good. He reached forward and grabbed my knees, prying my thighs apart. Warm cum dribbled out of me, coating the naked skin of my upper thighs.

He smirked at his handy work before pushing himself off of the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, turning on the faucet and grabbing a towel from the cabinet.

It was then that something occurred to me. “Miguel, I’m not on birth control.” I said. He nodded, acting as if I had just told him about the weather. He stepped out of the bathroom holding a damp washcloth. “Miguel.”

“What, sweetheart?” I stared at him, feeling my mind begin to race. He climbed onto the bed, moving to where I was laying. He sat down between my thighs and gently began to clean the remains of him off of my skin.

“You didn’t… you didn’t use a condom and I’m not on birth control.” I said. I could feel my heart beginning to race. Why wasn’t this bothering him in the same way?

“You’re my wife.” He said as he wiped my skin.

“Miguel.” I repeated. I wanted him to react.

“What are you wanting me to say?”

“Anything.” I said. I wanted some kind of actual reaction.

“Things are exactly as they need to be. Whatever happens, happens.”

“That’s not an answer.” I said.

“Maybe you need to learn to be happy with what you’re already working with.” He finished cleaning me up and then walked to the bathroom. He had made sure to only clean the skin outside of my body. He didn’t try to remove any of the fluid inside of me, despite how much there was.

He came back to the bed and quickly climbed in. “You should get some sleep.” He said. I stared at him, searching for some idea about what he was thinking. He offered a soft smile in return.

Was he fucking with me?

Did he really love me or was he just using me as a quick screw?

Did he actually want me to be his wife… or was this some fucked up mind game of his?

He leaned back against the pillows and then lifted his hand. He curled a finger toward him, motioning for me to come. “I’m not a dog.” I muttered.

“Then be a good girl and do as I ask.” He reached forward and gently grabbed my body. He slid me closer to him, moving me so that my head lay against his bare chest.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Afraid so.” He said. He placed one hand on my shoulder and the other on my side. He slid his fingers up and down either side of my body, taking in every soft dip and curve. Every so often he would lean down and kiss the top of my head.

I couldn’t help but notice the way that his fingers traced over my lower stomach. He looked wistful as he traced the soft skin. I squirmed, feeling insecure.

“Stop wiggling and get some sleep.”

“Then stop feeling me up.”

“I’m not feeling you up. I’m trying to be nice to you.” He murmured against the top of my head. He pressed another kiss against my hair.

“You’re an ass.” I muttered. I rolled his eyes as he continued to pet my bare skin. His heartbeat played in my ear.

As I began to drift off to sleep, I felt him begin to play with my frizzed curls. He would coil a stand of hair around his finger and then let it go, satisfied with the soft curl that had formed.

It was something that my Miguel liked to do, as well.

Maybe they weren’t all that different.

I heard his strong heartbeat against my ear as I faded away from the room.

Before I fell asleep, Miguel pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. “Please don’t leave me.” He whispered.

I love you...

[unoislazy]

‘Til The Caged Bird Sings

(Part 3)

Recap: Mizu found you in some makeshift holding cell in the basement of the gambling house you were being held in.

Surprise Shawties two in one night

CW: a bit bloody description

Mentions of SA

Literally falling asleep as I type this, hopefully there are no typos (I doubt it)

I’m probably gonna go back and rewrite this cause I genuinely can’t remember what I wrote and I’m frankly too embarrassed to go back and read it

————————————————————

Mizu approached you with haste, managing to open your cell with one swift motion of her sword, breaking the lock almost clean off. She cautiously made her way into the dark and dreary cell, the only light that entered the room was from a small window on the back wall. This place was not meant to be a cell, it seemed to have been made last minute more than anything. It wouldn’t take a genius to know that they didn’t care about the people they stored here.

Once she got right in front of you, she noticed that you had gone quiet and still, other than the tremble that you couldn't seem to stop.

Mizu kneeled down before you, lifting her hand, wanting to tap your shoulder just to gain your attention but just as she had just barely grazed that now tattered fabric on your shoulder you began to flail and scream.

Most of your words came out as nothing more than incoherent sobs, but Mizu could definitely make out the words, “Get away from me! Don’t touch me!”

Your voice was hoarse and scratchy, you had been shouting for a while.

Your cheeks were stained with tears, Your eyes were held shut in fear as you flailed about, trying as hard as you could to make it impossible for whatever man you assumed was in front of you to grab you.

You felt two strong arms grip yours, holding them still as you continued to struggle.You didn’t know who was infront of you but the last thing you wanted was to open them and be face to face with the fact that you’d have to endure another hour of torture. That was until you heard,

“Hey hey, it’s me.” Mizu shushed you, continuing to hold your arms still as you slowly began to stop thrashing. You continued to cry, still not wanting to open your eyes, believing your brain was playing some hopeless joke on you.

“Open your eyes.”

Finally, your eyes fluttered open. Immediately you were met with the blue eyes that you loved so much staring back at you, filled with a fear you could not even begin to explain.

You leapt forward, wrapping your arms around her as tightly as you could manage, never wanting to let go. You continued to cry, your words a jumbled mess as you tried to describe what had been done to tou.

You dug your nails into her clothes, trying to pull yourself closer than you could possibly manage, your breathing was unstable and your tears began to soak through Mizu’s clothes.

She didn’t care, she held you as tightly as she could, happy to at least have found you alive, but terrified of what you might’ve had to endure before she did.

You both sat there for a few moments as your crying died down a bit, a few hiccups here and there made it hard for you to properly express yourself as you tried to talk to the woman.

“Let’s go home, please.” You pleaded, no longer wanting to be in such a place. She nodded, carefully wrapping your arm around her shoulder, helping you to stand as you both made your way towards the door of the cell. As fast as you could go, you made your way back to the ground floor before you heard the clamoring of several armored men running into the house.

They finally knew Mizu was here.

“Someone go check on the girl!” You could hear one of the men yell followed by the sound of a few men running towards you and the rest running in the opposite direction. You began to shake, fearing that they would somehow manage to take you from Mizu again, right after you had just been reunited.

She noticed you shaking and putting a reassuring hand on your arm as she looked towards you.

“I’m not going to let them take you.” She said as she gently placed you up against the wall. She drew her sword, standing before you, emulating a wall between you and then men who had finally made their way towards the hall you both stood in.

Once their eyes landed on Mizu, they all immediately got into fighting stances and quickly charged at Mizu, who did the exact same thing towards them.

She sliced through most of them easily, but for each man she brought down, more came to replace them.

The men who had previously been upstairs had all made their way towards the commotion, making it harder and harder for Mizu to keep up with all of them.

Eventually she had been so caught up with the men surrounding you that she hadn’t noticed the one man who seemed to slip past her and make his way straight for you.

Mizu called for you, quickly gaining your attention as she continued to struggle against the men she was fighting with.

Your head shot up, quickly seeing the man who was making a beeline straight for you. As fast as you could react, paired with the adrenaline that suddenly shot throughout your body, you stood up and lunged yourself at the man. Not expecting you to fight back, the man had been taken by surprise as you scratched and clawed at him in any way you could manage. You didn’t have any other weapons on your so your nails would have to do, and with the right technique they could be lethal.

You have managed to successfully scratch at the man’s eye, leaving you feeling disgusted and him severely wounded.

But you didn’t stop there, you had so much anger from not being able to fight back that you could release until now. The only thing you felt like you could do as you continued to attack the man was to scream. You screamed as loud as you could, carrying all the emotions that you had been feeling for the past few hours. The emotions that you truly didn’t even have time to fully process, the emotions that scolded you for being weak and yet consoled you for this not being your fault.

You continued to scream, being blinded by your own rage you had not realized the sheer amount of damage you had caused to the man’s face. You had somehow managed to break the skin on several parts of his face, his eyes included.

He continued to scream, finally pushing you off of him as he knelt down, cupping his face in pure agony. With one clean plunge through his chest, the screaming stopped. You watched the man flop to the ground as the sword left his body, your entire body shaking as you tried to catch your breath. You had no idea how to react to what you had just done, you had never injured someone so severely in your life. You didn’t mind Mizu’s past, you were aware she had harmed many people before she had met you, but it was an entirely different story when the blood was partially on your hands.

He deserved it, he and several other men in his group had taken advantage of you, they talked down to you as if you were nothing, they tried to make you feel as if you were no more than an ant trapped beneath their feet.

And in some ways they succeeded.

Mizu bent down before you, gaining your attention before touching you.

“You ready?” She asked, making sure you were fully aware of your surroundings. You nodded, still not all there entirely, but you were there enough to know you wanted to get out of there. Just as she had done before, she wrapped your arm around her now blood soaked shoulder, helping you to walk as you made your way out.

However, due to the excessive amount of adrenaline coursing through you, and the blood that has already partially made its way onto your clothes, you had yet to notice the wound that was currently leaking from your abdomen. You hadn’t noticed, but through your moment of blind rage, in an attempt to get you off of him the man had stabbed you and took the knife back out.

You both left the building leaving nothing but piles of bodies and an egregious amount of blood behind.

You made it all the way back to Mizu’s horse before you had noticed the stab wound that still continued to bleed out.

Your hand grazed over the wound, almost as if to convince yourself it wasn’t real, but the blood that coated your hand afterward was indeed your blood.

“Oh shit” You muttered, looking towards her with a terrified look in your eye. Mizu, who was already getting the horse ready, looked back towards you, her eyes widening.

You knew Mizu had gone through worse but the same couldn’t be said for you, you didn’t know if you were going to die in the next two minutes or the next ten, if at all. You might have known what to do if you were thinking clearly but at this point in time you couldn’t think straight. You couldn’t think at all.

The world began to spin as you took one step towards Mizu, the world going black as you began to fall right into her arms.

Mizu admittedly panicked just a bit, not knowing whether the wound was lethal or not. All she did know was her question was going to be answered regardless of the placement if she didn’t stop the bleeding.

She ripped whatever piece of fabric she could find and hastily wrapped it around you, trying to add as much pressure to it as she could before carefully lifting you up onto the horse.

It was a bit of a journey back but luckily the makeshift bandage Mizu had wrapped around you was enough to slow the bleeding down a significant amount.

Everything was dark for you, you didn’t know how much time was passing, you could hear things happening around you but your mind was too foggy to focus on anything clearly. It only took you a few hours before you woke up, the stab wound miraculously being the only major injury you sustained after the whole ordeal. You had a few scratches and bruises littered throughout your body but it wasn’t something a lot of rest couldn't handle.

While you slept she had gotten around to cleaning the house up, getting rid of any mess that had been left waiting for you both to return. Mizu now sat next to you, she watched carefully looking for any sign of consciousness as she held your hand.

By this point she knew the cut wouldn’t be lethal, but waiting for you to wake up was excruciating.

She gently brushed away some of the hairs that had gotten stuck to your face, carefully moving them out of the way as she just simply stared at you.

She was so afraid of losing you, you had been taken from right under her nose and she had no idea.

Now more than ever she never wanted to leave your side.

And she wasn’t going to, not unless she absolutely had to.

She continued to sit calmly beside you, no noise really coming from either of you either than your slow and steady breathing. Every so often she would take a peek at you, making sure that you’re still alive and okay and that you hadn’t drifted off to the other side while her eyes were closed.

By every so often, it was actually every thirty seconds.

Mizu desperately wanted to try and persuade herself into believing she wasn’t stressed out about this, telling herself you were fine and that she shouldn’t worry, but there she was, worrying. She wasn’t trying to go too far on herself, after all self pity gets you nowhere, but she felt so guilty for not getting there on time. You were the one person who accepted her in every way that she existed and she practically offered you up on a silver platter.

She gently held your hand, feeling your pulse to reassure herself as she sat there. She said not one singular word as she waited for you to wake back up.

Once you had woken up, a wave of relief washed over her. It was one thing to think she lost you via kidnapping, a whole nother to think she was going to watch you die in her arms.

Your eyes fluttered up, meeting her soft gaze as you sat up.

“Mizu?” You asked even though you knew it was clearly her. You looked around, noticing the space was entirely cleaned up. She smiled down at you, moving a bit closer as you tried to sit up. She very gently pushed you back down before saying,

“I’m glad you’re awake but you need to stay down for a bit.”

The fact that you had woken up alright was enough of a reassurance for her, knowing that you were okay.

You immediately laid back down, listening to your wife who had suffered a great deal more pain than you. You practically considered her an expert when it came to pain.

Relieved to at least no longer feel direct pain from you abdomen, you wearily smiled at her.

“Thank you, for coming for me.” You thanked her, but it only threw offMizu a bit.

“You’re my wife, that’s part of my job, to protect you.” She said, looking towards you with a new found curiosity for what else you had to say.

“But in protecting me you put yourself in severe danger.” You argued, you weren’t entirely a big fan of Mizu being so badly wounded but then again who would be.

“A risk I’m willing to take for you.” She responded plainly as if it were a fact. Maybe because it was. She was willing to take any risk for you as long as it meant you’d continue to keep loving her.

“But-“ you began, only to be cut off by the woman.

“I don’t care what excuse you want to make, I went looking for you out of my own free will, I knew the dangers that came from it and I handled them pretty well.” She explained, finally being about to persuade you.

“I would do anything for you.” She said, holding your hand so you would understand just how serious she was being. She understood but she’s be lying if she said she didn’t want to hear it again.

“Anything?” You asked.

“Anything.” She responded.

[hyunebunx]

saw the soft thoughts post and i hope i’m not late >.< please forgive my typos or grammatical errors love i just woke up 🥹

soooo imagine a lazy saturday morning with hyunjin where you both just wanted to sleep in and cuddle on your shared bet until late in the morning. apparently you had to force yourself to get up because you were getting hungry and hyunjin—being a clingy boyfriend—is sticking to you like glue, and be like “noooooo don’t go!!!” because he doesn’t want to get out of bed but you had to drag him up. he became a pouty baby while being clingyyyy maybe a backhug when you were cooking, a stolen kiss when you were about to eat, helping you wash the dishes but he put some soap bubbles on the tip of your nose, asked you to go out and the spend the rest of the day with him outside maybe stroll around the city, an art museum date, go to a café and watch him sketch/paint you~

ughh to be loved by an artist bro i’m still half asleep so i hope i’m making sense... anyway have a good one deni ! 😽🩷

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff and a loooot of kissing, you've been warned lol

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: my love <3 this is the cutest idea ever!! thank you so so much for trusting me to write it hehe <3 listen, this got quite steamy in the middle, idk what happened i blacked out fgsdgkj can't help myself when it comes to this man apparently. anywayss, hope you'll enjoy it <333

Mornings spent sleeping in with the love of your life, all cuddle up and intertwined, were truly your absolute favorite, a blessing you didn’t take for granted. You were both busy people, with busy lives that accommodated one another like it was the most natural thing in the world, fitting together like the last two pieces needed to complete the puzzle which revealed your love story.

Hyunjin was a heavy sleeper, clinging to every thread, no matter how thin, that transported him to dreamland to rest a little more. Just five more minutes, that turned into ten, fifteen, which ended up stretching into half an hour on good days. On the bad ones, when he was more tired than usual, nothing could get Hyunjin out of bed before the afternoon rolled around. You understood – he needed his rest – but it didn’t make missing him and his bright smile any easier.

You never knew you could miss someone even while they were dozing off next to you, blissfully unaware of how your heart almost jumped out of your chest to slip under his shirt just to feel his beating, desperately searching for confirmation he felt the same. And he did, of course he did, how could he not when your name and sweet face were constantly spinning around in his mind like some sort of live wallpaper, making him unable to concentrate even on simple tasks?

Though right now, neither of you was sleeping, cuddling to Hyunjin’s chest with one leg over his lap as you caught him up on the latest work gossip. You’ve been awake for almost two hours now and for once, the universe seemed to be on your side as no sunray managed to peek through the small crack left in the curtains, allowing you to continue lying around in peace.

“Anyway, so the printer caught on fire and that was Kim’s last straw. She threw all the papers on the floor and then proceeded to plop down on them and cry. I felt so bad.”

Despite his empathetic nature, Hyunjin lets out a short laugh, voice still husky and laced with sleep as his fingers tangled in your hair. “How did she even manage to do that?”

“It wasn’t her fault.” You yawn, hiding your face in his chest briefly. “Jay used the printer last to scan pictures of his cat’s toe beans and I guess some fur got stuck in there and ruined everything.”

He slowly shakes his head, whistling. “See, that’s why I’m a dog person.”

Prompting your chin on his chest, you look at him with raised eyebrows. “Ok Mr. meows at cats because he wants to get into their good graces.”

“That was one time!”

You giggle and he joins soon after, staring deeply into your eyes until the laughter dies down and every thought leaves your mind like it wasn’t even there to begin with. Dark eyes dart between yours and your lips, subconsciously licking his plush bottom one and telling you exactly where his train of thought has stopped. Patience was not one of Hyunjin’s virtues, so the hand in your hair moves lower to cup the back of your neck, bringing you closer as you quickly adjust, both hands sprawling on his chest to help you lean down and finally connect your lips.

The kiss is slow, lips merging perfectly as neither of you is in any rush, content to take the time to taste each other. However, it quickly gets messy, tongues meeting and complicating the familiar dance, making it hot and breathy but oh so delicious. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit you’ve been waiting for this ever since he woke up, constantly thinking about his rosy lips and driving yourself crazy as whatever he was saying faded in and out of hazy memory.

Hyunjin kissed you like no other, like kissing was an art he invented just to practice on you. One he managed to master throughout the years of your relationship but couldn’t get enough of, obsessed with the idea of improving and finding another unexplored corner he could take over and claim as his own.

A cold hand slides easily under your top, gripping at your waist in an effort to bring you closer, almost causing your arms to give out. You break away from the kiss and Hyunjin whines, displeased but still helps you settle on top of him more comfortably, guiding your body as you straddle his hips.

This new position allows for better access to what you’re both desiring, with Hyunjin wasting no more time in bringing you back down again, capturing your lips. With both hands on exposed thighs, the shirt he gave you to sleep in barely covering anything, Hyunjin loses himself in the taste of you, licking into your mouth and lightly biting on your bottom lip as your hands move lower over his stomach, needing to discard him of the annoying clothing.

You make to pull away but his lips follow, causing him to sit up and move one of his hands on the small of your back for support, not allowing you to slip away from him. With a mind of their own, your hands quickly abandon his shirt and move around his shoulders, meeting at his nape to deepen the kiss and lick at his bottom lip which he appreciates by the groan he lets out.

You feel him everywhere, hands groping and squeezing every bit of your body in the exact way he knew you loved, turning you to putty into his hold. By now, his dark hair is a mess from all the pulling – your fingers needed something to anchor onto.

“Hyun.” You inhale deeply, his lips moving down your jaw, restless.

“Yeah, baby?” He mumbles, barely hearing you.

“Breakfast.” You gasp out as he lightly bites the skin, quick to soothe it with his tongue. “I’m hungry.” Mostly true, you’ve been lying here for hours after all, who wouldn’t be hungry? But also because you knew if you didn’t stop him now, neither of you would get to eat anything before dinner time rolls around.

Hyunjin pauses, hot breath fanning your neck as he slowly tilts his head to look at you, his wet and swollen lips distracting. He’s speechless for a moment, almost like he can’t believe you interrupted him, like a child whose favorite toy is abruptly taken away. When it clicks in his head you are actually serious, Hyunjin barely registers the way you peck his lips as he rolls his eyes.

“Wow, ok connoisseur of romance. What a way to ruin the moment.”

You giggle as he gently lays you down on your back, knowing he could never be truly upset, no matter what kind of stunt you pull. He was most likely thankful you said something, surely hungry himself.

Scooting towards the end of the bed, your feet barely get to touch the hardwood floor before Hyunjin’s arms circle your middle once again, pulling you to his warm chest without a word.

“No, don’t go!” He whines, burring his head in your shoulder in protest.

Your heart squeezes in your chest, pounding from all the love you carried for your other half, the man you couldn’t imagine life without.

“Baby.” You coo, softly running your fingers over his hands on your stomach in a way to coax him. “How am I supposed to cook us breakfast otherwise?”

Hyunjin sighs, squeezing you to his chest for two more heartbeats before releasing his hold and allowing you to stand up. When you turn to face him, one of his big hands has already brought yours to his lips to plant a feather like kiss on your knuckles.

“Don’t go without me.” He mumbles, pouting slightly, and you almost explode like a piñata, staining him with your love and adoration that will surely trap him in this apartment for days trying to get it out. Not like he’d ever mind if that were possible, proudly showing off and talking about your feelings for him to anyone who’d listen, right after talking their ear off about the love he holds for you.

So, that morning, you waddle together to the kitchen like two penguins with Hyunjin refusing to stop hugging you from behind even when you started cooking. And after that, spoon feeding you on the counter and forgetting all about his needs until you threatened to take away his cuddles.

He caved in immediately.

[searchingforplanes]

All that I do is wait for you.

Notes: I’m a feminist but not when it comes to Matty Healy, clearly. On a more serious note, I wanted to participate in the tag cleanse so, here it is! 

P.s. It’s very loosely inspired by 'Batphone' by Arctic Monkeys and 'Wives and lovers' by Jack Jones bc they’ve been on repeat lately

TW: MDNI!, typos (english is not my first language), traditional gender roles/stay at home girlfriend brain rot, religious themes (I don't even know how that happened), smut 

WC: 1.9k 

You wait in silence on the rug of the living room, your back to the couch, your knees drawn up against your chest. Everything about this moment feels appropriate, normal, even comfortable, from the stiffness of your now cold limbs to the slight smell of smoke and ashes coming from the wood stove in the corner, the only light source that you allowed yourself to keep on.

It suits you, an almost hermit-like situation, silence as your only companion in a never ending wait for salvation. 

He had called you several hours prior from an airport located in a warmer country, telling you he was on his way. You knew it. Of course you knew it. You didn't talk much during touring days but you religiously kept track of his schedule, every stop carefully listed by him on a piece of paper now attached with an apple-shaped magnet on the refrigerator door. Little boxes accompanied each one of them for you to cross; today, the last little square was ticked off.

You recall the first time you had to welcome him home after such a long time. You had felt lost. Did he need anything? A ride from the airport, a warm meal, a new set of lingerie to rip off of you? You had pondered his return so much that your mind had started to suggest you had chosen a life that couldn't belong to you. Sooner or later, you had thought, he would have realized your inadequacy to fill the spot beside him at dinners or at the pub, to fill his house, to fill the rest of his life with, maybe even his grave in the family chapel up north. Concerns, heavy like lead, had crowded your head to the point you felt the ground underneath you flex under the weight. 

First times are often embarrassing, sweet or clumsy, but the first time he had returned home to you it just felt… wrong, like you couldn’t provide him with an appropriate welcome. The echo of his footsteps around the house had felt chastising and more similar to the sound of whip to the one of your lover's return. 

You had spoken to him about it some time later, explaining the lack of purpose you felt laying there, waiting for him to rescue you instead of welcoming him, and he, of course, had told you not to worry, and that 'he wasn't a soldier, he was just doing his job like a normal human being'.

While you trusted him, you realized that the former suggestion resonated with you in a way that you couldn't quite comprehend at first. Maybe it was distasteful to think about his absence that way, considering that greed and gluttony would be the only real threats to his well being while on tour, but the lack of him made you feel like a military widow nonetheless. In a way, you were sharing him with an entire nation, multiple ones even, all waiting for him to offer guidance to his community. The parallel probably didn't make any sense, but it gave you a purpose.

That's why a cherry tart was in the fridge, Nick Drake was softly singing from the record player and you were now sitting facing the windows with wet hair and red lipstick on, waiting for him to turn up. A silly little routine maybe, but comforting, something that generations of awaiting women before you probably had done, the anxiety of being nice and put together for the man you love.

Suddenly your train of thought is cut off at the shower of light that fills the room. It's a sudden flash, the rays filtering through the blinds and painting your face striped before the glow of his low beams curves slightly and then dies on the driveway, replaced by a quick splash of orange. 

You could recognize it anywhere.

It's like experiencing the beginning of the universe, like discovering that life exists outside these four walls, a big bang happening just outside the windows, giving you a world to finally live in. You slowly get up, counting down the twenty seconds it will take for your Adam to reach his garden of Eden. 

His silhouette finally fills the glass door frame, standing straight to watch yours behind the frosted barrier. He pushes the handle and finally he’s in front of you, the first man to ever exist. It’s routine now, his hand coming behind your back to push you towards him and then coming to your waist, grabbing at the fabric of your white nightgown and crinkling it with his tan fingers, the other hand still on the handle, his lips coming down to leave a butterfly-weighted kiss at the corner of your upper lip, the gesture so delicate it could have been the night breeze. 

Soon you’re in bed, the white cotton covering you giving the appearance of innocence, contrasting widely with the man kneeled at the foot of the mattress. He looks like sex personified. He has discarded his shirt on his way to the bedroom, following the flowy nightgown up the stairs, and he is now unbuckling his belt with one hand, the other keeping your foot in place, caressing the ankle with his middle finger. Without the support of the leather strip his dress pants fall just a little lower on his hips, gracing you with the spectacle of his ‘v’ shaped abdomen and his rose tattoo. You don’t dare move just yet, enjoying the way he naturally takes the lead. He unbuttons his slacks, standing up to undress himself completely, half-lidded eyes never leaving your figure. He then crawls over, lifting the nightgown just above your belly button, littering your stomach with small, wet kisses, lingering on your pelvis before crashing his tongue flat against your cunt. He caresses your thighs while he eats you out, slowly lifting your legs to circle his head with, clamping around his ears, the tips of his fingers barely grazing upon the skin, agonizingly ticklish. He slowly trails two of his fingers down and into you, curling into your sweet spot with surgical precision while his lips suck on your clit with unrelenting eagerness. You are panting furiously, swears cascading off your lips with ease and mixing with pleads of his name but he suddenly stops, raising his head just enough so that his breath is still teasing your core.

‘You need you to be a little bit louder princess, I can’t hear your sweet moans with the way you’re crushing my skull’ 

You desperately nod, anything to have him back there and, just as a little aid, you slide your legs down to his throat, choking him slightly and eliciting a deep groan out of him. He instantly resumes with flickers of his tongue, making sure to maintain eye contact with you while you reach your high again. You cross your ankles on his back,tightening the grip around him and cutting his blood flow just a tad more; he takes the hint, increasing the rhythm of his fingers until you’re cumming on his face, completely enveloping him for good with your limbs, his name reverberating in the air like a sinful litany. 

He climbs your body in a couple of swift moves and now you’re face to face, his wet, swollen lips brushing yours, his breath hot against your cheeks. He looks quite a state. Unruly curls, sunken cheekbones, a rosy flush across his neck.

‘Welcome back, baby’

He chuckles darkly, his erection twitching against your thigh, pressing into your flesh through his boxer in search of relief. You slide your hand across his chest, almost feeling his ribs. You’d love to tear him apart just to count them, just to make sure that you haven’t dreamt it: there’s a missing one. God, if he exists, made you out of it, out of him. Maybe that’s why you’re always trying to be as close as possible to one another.

He does just so, after peeling the last piece of clothing off himself, sliding inside of you like he hadn’t left in the first place. He starts moving slowly, standing a little straighter to watch you squirm and whine.

‘What’s wrong baby? Do you want me to stop?’ He coos. He knows exactly what you want, the condescending tone not helping your situation. 

‘Need- need to feel you better’

‘Is that so, princess? Did I make you too wet? Let you make it up to you, yeah?’

He finally undresses you completely, crumpling the nightgown in his hands, bottoming out completely and wiping your cunt, the friction causing a small moan out of you. 

When he finally thrusts into you again, the burn is so delicious you can feel your eyes roll into your skull.

‘Is that better baby? You’re such a dirty fuck doll, so eager for this dick that you want it to feel it split you open’

You choke out a broken moan, fire licking up your limbs and feeding the warm feeling in your lower stomach.

‘Answer me princess, don’t be shy’

‘Y-Yeah I am Matty, fuck’

His thrusts get faster as a way to reward you, the effort making his smirk fade in favour of a much more fucked out expression. He’s on the edge as much as you. You can feel the pleasure reaching an impossible level of tightness in your stomach and you grab his forearm with your hand  in anticipation, fingernails planting into his tattoos. 

‘Keep looking at me when you cum on my cock kitten’ 

Matty’s request sounds more like an order you can barely follow when your orgasm actually hits you, eyelids fluttering and hands scratching his tense back, your legs twitching like a shock wave had just hit you. Matty does his best to ground you, his hands keeping your hips glued to the mattress while he keeps fucking into you. 

‘Matty you can’t anymore, ‘m too overstimulated’

He coos at you, sweetly condescending, your whispered pleas almost amusing him.

‘Yes you can, baby. Just a bit more, okay? I’ll cum with you, promise’

You nod your head the best you can, feeling the tension starting to rise again when he starts to gently rub at your clit with his thumb, leaning to cover your cheeks with small kisses that contrast with his frantic thrusts.

‘Where do you want me, princess?’

It’s a rhetorical question, you both know it, but you don’t seem to be able to answer him. Even with your mouth agape, air isn’t filling your lungs, and you can only trust him to understand you when you trail a hand down to your lower stomach, resting it on the spot where you can feel the head of his cock hitting. 

He smirks down at you, his expression scrunching up a second later when he feels you clenching around him. 

‘I’ll fill you up good, kitten, don’t worry about it, you just have to let go. Wanna feel you milking my cock for what it’s worth’ 

His words finally make you crumble a second time, tears brimming your eyes while he fucks you through your orgasm until he is on the brink too, admiring your fucked out expression before releasing inside of you. 

He rolls off of you, his arms coming to cradle your head while you try to regain your breathing rhythm. 

‘I’m never gonna leave again’

You chuckle and slap his heaving chest.

‘You will, but I’ll wait for you. All that I do is wait for you.’

[rowiewritesstuff]

Ahem, yes it is I! So an idea literally bashed me in the face and I couldn't help but think 'Oh this is an interesting idea!' What if different versions Transformers have this crossover (Bayverse, T.F.P., T.F.A., GEN 1, Knightverse which is one of my favourites because of Charlie and Bumblebee or any other universes you're familiar with it) where T.F.P.'s groundbridge malfunctioned (probably Wheeljack and Bulkhead) The reader works in the T.F.P. universe Ratchet's assistant and they're his guardian on top of that. Of course, instead of sending them to a desired location the groundbridge ended up locating them in a different dimension... it was Bayverse's while the other dimensions were already there and T.F.P. just lands there last. Just complete and utter silence until Miko says something. You can tell how shit went downhill from there, but let's pretend no one dies for the sake of it all. My dearest reader and T.F.P. O.P. are dating but also not dating; they're just orbiting one another while being friends and T.F.P.'s O.P. is just content and not necessarily talkative but just sweet with the reader. Always carrying them around and so on. Of course, the other universes notice that. Jazz from Gen 1 is just smirking in that damn corner and all versions of Prowl wondering why is their lives are like this. It doesn't help that T.F.P.'s Ratchet has been tired of seeing these two idiots being in love and not doing shit about it. Obviously, the other O.P. versions caught on and the reactions... varied. Surprise, to utter.. confusion and curiosity to completely just wondering if there is a reader on their Earth. You can always add in anything you wish; I really love bantering amongst the others too! AND IRONHIDE'S REACTIONS TOO-

Multiverse to Bayverse  (Transformers Multiverse/ TMV)

Will probably edit it later for typos lol

(Bayverse, Animated, Prime, Earthspark, Gen 1)

Various! Optimus Primes X Reader

Ratchet noticed something was wrong with the groundbridge when it started growing a weird yellowish color. Before anyone could say anything, a wave covered all of them in golden light.

June, who walked in with popcorn, looked around the room in question. “Uh, guys?”

You all landed on the harsh ground, and heard a voice. Before you could hit the ground, Optimus caught you in his servos. 

We all looked up to see a large group of around twenty Cybertronians. There was complete silence in the room as everyone looked at eachother, when Miko chimes in. “Uh, why are there like five Optimus Primes? Raise of hands if you’re secretly another Optimus.”

Everyone gave her a deadpan look when you realized quickly that you were not in your Optimus’ servos. You looked up to see an almost cartoonish looking bot, smiling sheepishly down at you. 

“Uh, hi. I’m Optimus Prime, nice to meet you.” 

You squinted at him, and looked around the room. “Okay so I assume that this has to do with the groundbridge explosion- or I’m in a weird dream.”

The four Optimus Primes that were new to you looked at you in confusion. “Groundbridge?” Two chime in.

“Uh… yeah. A scaled down version of the space bridge. Ratchet engineered it to transport everyone anywhere on Earth- we couldn’t have anything as high-scale as a space bridge because we lack the energon for it.”

“Well why don’t you just use oil?” A voice sounds. 

You all look over to a green bot. “Bulkhead?” Arcee asked.

“Uh, yeah- how do you know my name?” 

Your Bulkhead made his way forward to inspect the other one. At the same time both Bulkheads showed their wrecking ball hand. “Woah! Twins!” Both of them said at the same time.

“Bulk, please never do that again,” Miko looked at them in joking fear. “You remind me of the twins from that one horror movie.”

“Aww come on Miko! It’s not everyday you meet, well, yourself!” Bulkhead grumbled. 

“Can we focus on the situation, please?” A gray mech asked. They looked strikingly like Megatron. The next second, almost everyone in the room had their guns trained on him.

He quickly backed up with his hands above his heads. One Optimus stood in front of him, hands up. “Woah, this Megatron is an autobot now! He’s alright.”

Everyone squinted or glared at him. Generation One’s Optimus didn’t back down. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I know for certain that I’m not cool with Megatron being here.”

You turned to him, gaping. “Did you just say ‘cool’? What?” 

Jazz laughed aloud. “Yeah, that’s Op for ya! He just started learning Earth slang from Spike!”

“Alright, enough!” All of the Ratchets shouted at once. Everyone looked at them. A good eighty percent of the room burst into giggles or tried their best to stop that urge.

“Looks like no matter what dimension you go to, Ratchet’s always the same.” Wheeljack said. A chorus of varied agreements sounded through the room, making the renowned grouches grumble.

Soon enough, you all began figuring out how you were all there. It was pretty much the same for everyone- one way or another, a yellow light ran over them.

You all started constructing various groundbridges in hopes that it could somehow send you home. 

You often hung out with your Prime, making everyone else curious about your relationship. You could almost always be seen on his shoulder or in his servo. You almost never walked anywhere.

It was pretty obvious to everyone- except a few of the younger bots like animated Bumblebee and Knightverse Bumblebee.

Bayverse Prime (with his never ending confidence) was the first to approach you. “Hello, (Y/N). Would you like to go on a walk with me?” He held his hand out. You stepped onto his hand and sat down. 

As he made his way out of base, everyone watched you two. Primeverse Optimus couldn’t help but feel a pang in his chest as you both walked out. He knew that he didn’t have a right to feel that way- you two weren’t even together. Not yet, at least. 

Everyone noticed the look on his face even though he himself didn’t.

All of the Ratchets had the same thought: ‘Primes (Derogatory)’. 

Optimus from the Animated universe was confused. He was normally pretty in tune with his emotions, and he doesn’t see why Prime Optimus doesn’t just ask you out. He’d been trying to subtly hint at that, but Prime Optimus was somehow oblivious. Animated Optimus also wondered if you existed in his universe- you were very charming and, he’s embarrassed to say, cute.

G1 Optimus teased your Optimus on the subject. He always mentioned how back in his day he was a spark breaker. Earthspark Optimus always tried to scold G1 Optimus for his behaviors, but then G1 Jazz would join in on the teasing so he’d have to chase both of them around.

Earthspark Optimus would comfort him, trying to encourage him gently to follow his spark. While he’ll never understand the attraction to a human, he believes that it’s not really his business. Even Earthspark Megatron gave fairly good advice to the other bot. 

Bayverse Ironhide sort of agreed with their advice- but also warned the Prime. “If you wait too long, they’ll find another. Make something of yourself, Prime!”

You both stopped at a pond and he sat down on the ground. He placed you gently next to him as he threw seeds into the water. You both watched as fish swam to the surface and bobbed up and down to try and snag a treat.

“Are you and my counterpart… together?” 

A flushed look covered your face as you snapped your head towards him. “Wh-n- I-” You covered your face with your hands. “No, we aren’t together.”

“Ah. I see.” Bayverse Optimus had a lot more experience with this sort of thing. “So you have feelings for him, then?”

Your face got impossibly warmer and simply nodded. “We haven’t been dating so to say… but we’re really close. I would just never have the guts to… you know.” 

Bayverse Optimus merely nodded at you and left you at the pond by yourself. When he got back into the base he and Ironhide grabbed the Prime by his arms and began dragging him off. The other Primes and Ratchets knew exactly what was going on and followed.

When they got into a more secluded room of the base, they set him down and pushed him into a chair. Primeverse Optimus was confused and a little anxious as the many bots surrounded him.

“When are you going to ask them out?” G1 Optimus teased. 

Primverse merely shook his head. “I don’t think that is a good idea at the moment. There’s a war go-”

“Oh stop being a fragging boltbrain!” Bayverse Ratchet yelled. 

“They have been waiting for you to ask them out for months now!” Primeverse Ratchet yelled. 

His eyes widened at that knowledge. “I don’t know.”

“Fine, I guess I’ll go ask the lil’ lady on a date then.” Jazz began to strut out of the room when Optimus shouted for him to stop.

“What should I say?” Primeverse Optimus questioned. 

“Alright, so here’s what you say.”

While you were at the pond,  a gathering of girls and femme bots surrounded you.

“So he still hasn’t asked you out yet?!” The Arcees were shocked.

“Yeah, you’d think he would have by now, right?” Their counterpart from Primeverse shook her head. “I think he’s just worried about the war.”

Miko threw her hands over her head. “So?! He needs to get the girl!” 

Your hands were holding your face yet again. Prowl gently laid a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, (Y/N). Good things come in time- and some bots,” he glared at everyone else, “Shouldn’t rush it.”

You smiled up at the ninjabot. “Thanks, Prowl.” 

He smiled back, though irritated at the situation. Some bots were so nosy and loud. They always had to get into everything and couldn’t leave well enough alone. 

Suddenly you were swept up by Jazz, who yelled out “Sorry, I’m borrowing the lil’ lady!” Prowl facepalmed as the girls cheered.

You and Optimus were shoved into a room together. The large bot offered a hand to you which you stepped onto. He raised you up to eye level.

“I” He paused to get his words together. “I have had feelings for you for a while. I know that we’ve been friends for a while, and just friends. I have no clue if you share the sa-”

“If you’re asking me out, the answer is yes.” You planted a shy kiss on his faceplate. The Prime’s cheeks grew a flushed blue. Suddenly confetti streamers fell on the two of you. You both looked up to see Miko, Animated Bee, and Sari in the rafters. A bucket fell on Optimus’ head which made the rafter bound group wince.

“Uh.. congrats?” Bumblebee quickly grabbed the other two kids and bolted. 

You and Optimus chuckled as he brought you up to his faceplate for another kiss.

ALTERNATIVE ENDING:

You and Optimus were shoved into a room together. The large bot offered a hand to you which you stepped onto. He raised you up to eye level. “I-” he paused to get his words together. “Well, my name is Optimus Prime, yo! The other primes are my friends, yo! Uh-huh, they told me everything.”

You looked up at Optimus in confusion, about to say something when he continued. 

“And I like you a lot, yo!” 

Outside the door, everyone looked at Jazz with glares. He just shrugged as a grin pulled at his face. "What? I’m sure it will work.”

[heavenhealy]

genre: smut w a side of angst, afab!reader, boyfriends best friend!au

word count: 4.3k

summary: it’s wrong, you both know it, but how are you supposed to resist the pull of his hands, the ticklish strands of his hair on your neck, the whispered promises to fuck you better than his best friend can?

warnings: infidelity, alcohol consumption, swearing, unprotected sex, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), degradation and praise, allusions to pain kink, spit, matty is a tease, marking, coming inside, slight overstimulation, dom!matty x sub!reader, public play (teasing but no sex), hair pulling, lemme know if I missed anything 

a/n: hiiiii, this is my first matty fic but def not my first fic, so I hope y'all like it! I have been harboring so much brain rot for him lately so I just wanted to share it with a likeminded audience. I purposely left readers boyfriend unnamed bc I honestly couldn’t be bothered, considering hes not thatttt important, but y'all are free to think of him as anyone. That being said, please do not go below the cut if you are 1) under 18 or 2) uncomfortable with the content. This is your final warning :)

ps. I didn’t edit or proofread so there may be typos!

The greasy bowl of popcorn has long been empty, but only now as the credits roll are you able to slip out from the weight of your boyfriends’ dozing frame to return it to the kitchen. You dump the bowl in the sink where it clatters against the rest of your unwashed dishes and you sigh. The last thing you want to do right now is wash dishes, but you turn the tap to warm and squat down to find the drying rack under the sink. 

Footsteps creak the wooden floor behind you, accompanied by a wave of cigarette scented air. Matty. Goosebumps rise along the back of your neck as you rise. Your heart hammers at an alarming rate and you try your best to act exceedingly normal even as he approaches you. Just as you drip some dish soap into the filling sink, his hands settle on your hips. You can feel the warmth of his palms and the calloused fingertips through the thin fabric of the t-shirt you've probably had since your freshman year of college. The tap continues to run, gushing water loudly into the sink basin. Despite the steam rising from the hot water you shiver as he presses his lean body into your back. A traitorous hand sneaks up to clear your hair away from the nape of your neck and your mind whirs to remember the last time you had felt quite so electric. A dark, bouncy curl strays across your ear so quickly you almost think you’re imagining it. 

“Lame ass boyfriend you’ve got out there, love.” His voice is silky, tinged with a hint of sleepiness that somehow only makes him more attractive. You can picture the way his mouth curves into a self satisfied smile as you automatically nod. It feels bad to admit, but you truly had been bored by your boyfriend lately. The spark between you had died long ago but you were simply afraid to admit it. 

But Matty certainly wasn’t. “Not even a quarter past 10 and he’s already asleep.” His breath ghosts into your ear, a whisper meant just for you even though you knew no one would catch you. The thrill makes you needy, keening against his body as he reaches around to turn off the tap. A sudden, deafening silence rushes in, and the apartment is so still you’re afraid that time has actually stopped. 

“He had a long day,” you amend as Matty’s teeth catch the shell of your ear, tugging playfully.

“Jesus, love. I had a long day too, and I’d still stay up all night if you asked me to.” You blush and resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together at his words. “Such a pretty thing shouldn’t have to go to waste.” Your head lolls against his shoulder and he knows he has you. His aura intoxicates you and you can’t help but think of all the time he existed in your peripherals: first as the eccentric best friend of the guy you just started talking to, then your boyfriend’s best friend and roommate, and then after one night where your boyfriend was away, your dirtiest little secret. 

A well-worked hand cups your breast through your shirt. Your nipple pebbles immediately at his touch and he laughs the snarky little laugh you would usually roll your eyes at. He knows, you both know, he could reach underneath the shirt and easily have his way with you, pinning you against his frame as his cock hardens and tweaking your nipples until you’re wailing. 

You allow your brain to run away with the fantasy; your boyfriend waking up to the sounds of your pleasure, dazed and confused until he stumbles into the kitchen to see Matty licking between your thighs like a man starved. 

But Matty likes the game. He takes a sick pleasure in the cat and mouse, in teasing you while you could get caught. He loves the deep blush that overtakes your face when he sends you a risky text or makes a point to clench his jaw when you catch his eye. 

He loves that whenever the three of you hang out, you often excuse yourself to the bathroom and send him photo evidence of the mess of slick he caused in your underwear. 

He rolls his hips against you, sure to press his cock firmly into the flesh of your ass. The counter underneath your fingers is your saving grace as he builds a torturous rhythm, nipping and pulling at your ear in a way that has no right to be so sexy. Every time a piece of his hair brushes against your neck you feel as if you’ve gone insane; like someone has attached all of your neurons to a jumper cable. A heady moan escapes your mouth before you can stop it, and Matty rewards you with an indulgent groan of his own. The push of his hips is intoxicating, and the persistent arousal gathering in your lower stomach makes you dizzy. With your eyes closed and his mouth at your neck, it’s easy to pretend that this is simply your life; that Matty is the one you met first, the boyfriend you share a bed and a history with, and that this little kitchen tryst is a sexy story you’ll remember when you miss him and not under struck with guilt. 

“Y/N?” It’s far away, the call of your name, but it distinctly belongs to your boyfriend. Ice fills your veins and you still, overly aware of the tight grip Matty keeps on you even as you try to wiggle away from him and reply. As much as you hate to admit it, you’re happy he doesn’t relinquish you so easily. 

“Y-yeah?” You call back, hoping your boyfriend chalks the shake in your voice up to anything other than his best friend’s hips grinding slowly against you. The couch creaks tellingly as he gets up, and your throat closes up in fear. You can hear his slow descent toward the kitchen, his sleepy shuffle giving Matty ample time to play around with you, and he does just that. His hand drops from your breast and his hips still, but his mouth stays sinfully close to your ear. 

“Good night, love. Come find me if you need someone to fuck you better.” Before your mind can even fully wrap around his statement he disappears, presumably to his bedroom. The absence of his body leaves you cold and frustrated, but the presence of your boyfriend forces you to pretend you’re okay. 

He looks rumpled and sleepy when he finds you in the kitchen, frowning at the time on the stove and the sink full of bubbles. 

“C’mon, dishes can wait until the morning.” He gives you an easy smile, one that would have made you giddy to kiss him a few months ago. Now you just nod and skirt away from his approaching figure, acutely aware of the fact that you would smell just like Matty if he got too close. 

“Go-go lay down, I need to use the bathroom first!” The excuse sounds lame even to your own ears, but he doesn't seem to have the energy to argue as he slips down the hallway, leaving you to purge the evidence before crawling into bed.

----

The restaurant was way fancier than you were expecting it to be, and even though you had pulled on a mid-length sleek black dress with pearled straps you felt out of place. The open planned room was bustling with diners and servers; but most of the noise comes from the exposed kitchen. You can see the slew of chefs as they work and the clashing of pots and pans makes it almost impossible to hear your boyfriend. Or Matty.

He wasn’t supposed to come, to be honest. The night was meant to be a celebration for just you and your boyfriend, who had recently wrapped up a project for a huge client. It’d been a long time since the two of you went to a fancy restaurant, and you had honestly been excited to get dressed up and spend the night with him. When you showed up to his apartment, you were stunned to see Matty, sprawled across the couch in his infinite glory, wearing a fancy black suit. 

“W-what?” You stuttered at the way his eyes pierced you, his hand resting casually on his stomach. 

“’M coming with you guys. Can’t let my best mate go on a celebratory dinner without me paying for some drinks, can I?” He flashes you a dazzling smile that disarms you just enough you can’t find it in you to be upset. 

So now you’re a party of three at the bustling restaurant, and Matty has already ordered a fancy bottle of wine for the table. You hate to admit just how much of your attention he’s stolen already, sitting so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating off of his thigh onto your own. Despite the interesting calamity of the kitchen and the murmurs of slightly-shouted conversations, all you can focus on is the curve of Matty’s lips, the way his eyes shimmer in the low-light. Your boyfriend seems more than happy to idly enjoy the scenery, pointing out the chefs and their specific techniques to you despite your waning interest. The wine goes down easy, and you pour yourself a second glass as Matty starts another inane conversation about whatever dish is getting pumped out of the open kitchen. 

The fuzzy feeling from the alcohol is welcoming, enveloping you in a warmth that helps distract you from the press of Matty’s thigh against your own. You smile gratefully at the waiter who brings you a pasta dish and dig in, thankful for the distraction. You’re careful not to move an inch, so you know it’s Matty who’s pushing further into your side, and you’re sure that the night is going sideways when you feel his pinky finger trace along the top of your thigh. You swallow hard, trying your best not to shudder at his touch. His wastes no time in grasping the meat of your thigh under his palm, squeezing just enough that a spark of pain morphs to pleasure. 

“Matty.” You hope there’s venom in your voice as you warn him against his fingers creeping closer to the inside of your thigh. He just smiles in your peripheral before taking a bite of his own food, disguising the movement of his hand underneath the table skillfully. Arousal runs through you, and you feel your panties soak as a long finger skims across the material. Under anyone but Matty’s touch you would be embarrassed at how fast you became a wreck, but the easy pleasure of his fingers dancing over your clit sends you into happy bliss. 

Matty’s fingers slow and simply press against you, building an internal pleasure that burns into your stomach. You let out a heavy breath and drain your glass of wine in one gulp. Matty laughs, and your boyfriend raises an eyebrow at your behavior. “Maybe you should pour her some more? Don’ let it go to waste.” Matty nods toward the bottle inches from your boyfriends plate. You see him hesitate, but he relents and grasps it, leaning forward to pour you a new glass. There’s a moment of anxiety as his point of view shifts and Matty makes no attempt to move his hand away from your center. In fact, his fingers stir back to life as soon as your boyfriend leans slightly forward to pour you a new glass. Matty slips his fingers under your panties as soon as your boyfriend is back in his seat. His fingers slip against your bare pussy and you close your thighs around his hand. 

“T-thanks,” you stutter, avoiding picking up the glass as a tremor wracks you. Matty takes another casual bite of his pasta and puts on his best confused face. His eyebrows furrow as he fakes a concerned look over you. 

“You aren’t gonna have any? Thought you liked it?” A dexterous finger circles your clit mind numbingly slowly. You glare at him and take another drink. Now that you’re well on the way to being drunk, every single sensation is heightened. A dark pit of arousal is consuming you and the desire to sink your teeth into the flesh of his neck is overwhelming despite the company. Desire makes you bold as you bat your eyes at Matty, biting into the flesh of your lip. 

“I love it.” You cant your hips forward into his hand, sure to emphasize just how wet he had gotten you. It’s debauched, and guilt begins to creep up the back of your neck, but Matty growls under his breath and pushes a finger inside of your walls and it melts away. 

Your boyfriend is blissfully unaware of the mess between your legs all night. He asks no questions about the way your face flushes (easily excused by the wine), the way Matty only eats his courses with one hand (he’s always doing some new eccentric shit), or the way neither of you are able to carry on a conversation for more than a few seconds (the restaurant is quite loud). 

----

The weather is ridiculously hot, and of course it’s the one day of the year you decide to clean and rearrange your apartment. To be fair, you had begun the process of emptying out old clothes and housewares at the beginning of the week, and you had skillfully ignored moving your big pieces of furniture up until today. Your apartment is hot despite the fans you’ve pulled out of storage, and the heavy wooden bed frame you had insisted on buying will not budge. No matter how hard you pushed or pulled on the frame, it stays stubbornly in place. So you call your boyfriend. 

And he can’t come, called into work on account of a picky client who demanded someone fix his renderings today. But Matty is miraculously free; and he’s on his way as soon as you text him. 

And of course, he looks sinful. A plain white t-shirt with a scoop neck affords a wonderful view of his collarbones and sun kissed skin. The urge to pull his stupid smirk into a kiss overtakes you, so for once you listen to the yearning and pull him against you. Matty breathes a chuckle against your lips before indulging you. His tongue slips easily into your mouth and you relish in pressing against the hard planes of his body. His chest rumbles in appreciation when he takes a handful of your ass, fingers hooking down dangerously close to your pussy. You feel alight, floating inside of an undefinable cloud of pleasure as he consumes you. 

You relish in the way his chest heaves with exertion once you part. “Need help moving a bed?” He wipes at his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “Sounds like a shitty chat up line to me.” 

A frustrated groan passes your lips, and you ignore the bait he’s clearly dangling in front of you in favor of soaking up air from a fan. Between the heat of the day and the fire of arousal in your stomach, it’s needed. 

“Very funny. Now can you please help me?” You don’t wait for his answer as you walk to your bedroom. His socked footsteps quickly follow your own, and in seconds you’re both standing at the foot of your bed. It’s oddly domestic, with the rumpled blankets gathered at the foot and the delicate floral sheets you  got on a discount. 

“Cute,” Matty comments as he plops himself fully onto the bed, legs sprawled wide and inviting. You try to ignore the bulge tenting his sweatpants and put on a brave face. 

“I need you to help me move it, not lay on it.” You whine, reluctantly shuffling within his reach. Matty catches you easily around the waist and it takes no time for you to collapse into his embrace. He nuzzles into your neck and it’s startling how nicely he fits around you. 

Never one to delay, Matty licks a line of heat down your neck and you lose the last bit of your control. “You smell so good.” The simple sentiment sends liquid heat to your pussy. A sharp nip to your neck makes you squirm and you know that you’ll have a hickey to conceal in the morning. 

His breath puffs against your neck, and you have the urge to turn and face him, tired of looking at the wall instead of his face. As your hips shift he groans, pressing his hips forward until you can feel the twitch of his cock against you. 

“Something you need?” You know the innocent game drives him crazy but you use it anyway and he stalls, assessing the situation with that astonishing wit. The sharp tug of your hair brings you into a place of happy submission. Matty wraps the tendrils between his fingers and makes sure you aren’t going anywhere before cocking your head until you’re stuck staring at him. The chocolate brown of his eyes is nearly eaten up by lust. This close, you can smell the intoxicating mix of his woody cologne and the beginnings of sweat.

“Please,” the word leaves you before you can even guess at what you’re asking for. Luckily Matty has learned to read your body like his favorite guitar. A delicate, fluttering kiss to your nose is just enough to disarm you as he uses the corded strength of his arms to guide you down his chest until you’re faced with the tantalizing push of his cock against his sweatpants. His fingers untangle from your hair but don’t leave, just allowing you the room to work. Something clicks in your mind and the only thing you care about is getting him off- feeling the familiar weight of his cock in your mouth, or the way his fingernails leave untraceable evidence of your tryst on your scalp.

You’re only half surprised to find he has no underwear on but it only makes your job easier. As soon as your tongue makes contact with his cock he’s moaning, guiding your hair into a ponytail at the back of your head and controlling your pace. Spit leaks from the corners of your lips as you finally engulf the head of his cock, but the mess only sends both of you further into oblivion. 

“Fuck, you’re so good at taking my cock.” His voice drips with arousal and you squirm, bucking your hips against the bed as you continue to swallow him down. Matty head no problem taking the lead, pushing you down until your throat spasms. Eyes fluttering, you try your best to make eye contact with Matty as you wiggle your tongue along the throbbing vein. 

“Pretty girl.” His Adam’s apple bobs, and the melodic noises that spill from his lips only spur you on. 

As his hips twitch and his grip loosens you take it upon yourself to change the pace on him, intent on making him cum. His head tips back into your pillows and his cock twitches violently, the delicious cue to the end goal you’re always going for. 

“C’mon, off now,” Matty tugs at the roots of your hair, erupting pleasure that makes you moan around him listlessly. “Fuck, seriously, baby, ‘m not coming in your mouth.” With surprising restraint he pulls your head away and angles his hips out of your reach. Empty, your eyes water as you pout. Spit decorates your chin and Matty’s eyes glaze over before he wipes it away with his thumb. 

“You dirty little thing. Asked you to stop and you kept on like you couldn’t even hear me.” A telltale current of amusement intertwines with the chastising, and curls of arousal have you nodding stupidly. 

“Cock drunk.” He tuts and shucks his shirt over his head. A shit eating grin splits his face as you remove your own, shucking off your bra shortly after without any preamble. Matty makes an appreciative noise at the sight of your tits and surges forward to push you down against the bed. 

He’s on them near immediately, indulging in the newly revealed flesh. His tongue laves over one nipple as he pulls at the other with deft fingers. Your back bends as his teeth scrape across the mounds of flesh. 

“D-don’t leave a mark,” the idea of your boyfriend seeing the marks he surely didn't leave sends your mind reeling, but Matty just laughs evilly. 

“You seriously think he’s gonna be seein’ these tits?” His gaze hardens at the edges and you’re momentarily stunned. You know he’s right, and you hate how much arousal gushes out of you because of it. “Cause who do you belong to?” He’s challenging you now- he knows that you’re on the same page about the truth of your relationship. 

“Y-you, Matty.” 

He rewards you with a blossoming hickey at the swell of your breast which he instantly soothes with the flat of his tongue. In a rush he works your shorts and underwear off of you, exposing the heat of your pussy to the room. Wetness sticks to your thighs and you’re desperate to have him inside you finally. Matty settles over your lower stomach, tracing his fingers delicately across the skin there as your hips jump wildly. 

“Matty, please just fuck me, I can’t wait-” your words trail into a heady moan as he swipes two fingers down your slit, collecting your wetness with a happy hum. Your mind blanks at the touch that almost fills the empty feeling in your stomach, but you know his cock is the only thing that will satisfy you. 

He curls the fingers across your clit until tears spring into your eyes, and then he sticks them in his mouth. The lewd sound makes you blush, and the sight of his eyes rolling back in satisfaction is one you want to bottle and keep forever. His eyebrows knit together at your taste, and you feel like you might combust. 

“Matty!” You grasp his forearm and use all your remaining strength to pull him back towards you. “Please, please just fuck me already. Seriously, wanna feel you.” You push your bare hips into his own and a dangerous glint lights his eyes.  “Oh, love.” You know he’s relenting when you feel him steady his hand on the base of his cock and slide the head over your clit slowly. “You know how many nights I’ve heard you fuck him?” You shake your head dumbly even though you and your boyfriend had certainly been the butt of jokes the morning after, back when the relationship was new and exciting for you both. Matty’s hips flex forward and he pushes into you slowly. The stretch is pure pleasure, and your nerves set on fire at the intrusion.

“All those times,” his voice shakes as he presses into you, a stray curl ghosting over your forehead. “...you never begged him as hard as you beg for me. Tha’s how I know you really want it. Want me.” Before you know it he’s filling you and huffing praise into your ear. Your whole body shifts as he sets his pace and your nails run over his shoulders, surely leaving reddened marks in their wake. 

“Yeah, wan’ you.” Pleasant fuzziness engulfs your body, the ebb and flow of his hips sending you to a plane of pleasure only Matty can take you to. Two deft fingers swirl around your clit harshly. Your bodies slick with sweat and glide together intoxicatingly, and if human limitations didn't exist, you would stay like this forever; your bodies existing in a perfect tandem. 

“So fuckin’ hot, sweetest little pussy I’ve ever had.” Matty’s rambling makes you dizzy as your orgasm approaches rapidly. You don’t even have to warn him that you’re on the edge for him to know, increasing the movement of his fingers until your vision is spotting with black. Your walls clench tightly around him as you finally come, clawing at the plane of his back and chanting his name.

Matty comes shortly after, the warmth of his release filling your deepest, darkest desire. It’s sickly satisfying to feel his cock twitch and empty inside of you, to hear the deep moans that spill from Matty’s kiss bitten lips as he fills you to the brim. 

Still connected, Matty collapses to the side of you, capturing you in a sweet lilting kiss that nearly makes you dizzier than the orgasm. Your tongue burns with a sentence you know you aren’t allowed to say. Matty’s face morphs as he sees you choke on the words, and he smooths down your mussed hair with a heavy hand. 

“Okay?” He asks, a gentle check-in. 

“Yeah,” your voice is hoarse so you clear your throat and try again. “Yeah, it's just that...we still have to move this stupid bed.” 

As if his brain was on a delay from the sexual exertion, it takes a few seconds before his award winning laugh wracks his body. The bed shudders under him, and you can't help but laugh along with him, dumbstruck with love. You swallow the words again and pat his cheek lovingly. 

“Right, Matthew. Let’s get going. Believe it or not, I didn’t text you just to get you into my bed.” He pouts cutely and sighs with dramatic flair as you untangle yourself from him. 

“If we move the bed, can we...?” His teeth shine as he smiles at you, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think the glimmer in his eyes reflects something like the words you refuse to say. 

[gaintsnowflake]

𝐁𝐄𝐃

PARING - anthony lockwood x gn!reader

ONESHOT - in which you still haven't recovered from the job and lockwood comforts you

TRIGGERS - mentions of death and nightmares

A/N - this is pure fluff | please mind any typos or grammar errors, i am my own editor and I may not be able be able to get everything 

WORD COUNT - 1.0k

masterlist

THE STREETS of London weren't busy this time of day, yet I still find myself staring outside watching for any change in motion. It was early morning; the four of us, Lockwood, Lucy, George, and I, just got back an hour ago. They are all long asleep and I should be too. Yet here I am still haunted by the memories of last night. The case shouldn't have taken as long as it did, and it should have been easy. Except the client didn't inform us of the secondary haunting.

But even then, I should have known what I was getting myself into, my parents had died there, and I should have known their ghost would be there. But it threw me off guard. I got ghost-locked, nearly ghost-touched, and put everyone in danger. We could have died just because my parents were there, haunting me, seeking me out.

"y/n?" A voice called shaking me from my thoughts.

I turned around to see Lockwood, he was in a white t-shirt and grey sweats, his hair messier than ever, and somehow his eyebags were more prominent. I gave a slight smile turning to face him fully.

"What are you doing awake?" He paused tilting his head, "Are you crying?"

"Oh, sorry I didn't notice," I wiped my tears I didn't know I had before answering his question, "Just can't sleep."

It wasn't a total lie, but I was not about to tell him that I couldn't sleep because of the nightmares the job caused every time I closed my eyes. Yet somehow he seemed as if he knew that is what it was.

Without saying another word Lockwood takes a few steps forward and engulfs me in a large hug. He rests his head on mine. I hug back, but as I do tears start to leave my eyes. Within a few seconds, I am sobbing into his chest.

"It's okay, cry it out. You're okay. I'm okay. Lucy and George are okay. Everyone is okay now. You can cry," He whispered to me, rocking me back and forth.

We sat there for a while, just hugging without saying a word. Sitting in ever-lasting silence.

"I could have gotten you killed," I spoke softly, scared of breaking the silence.

"It's not your fault, y/n," He muttered, "You didn't know."

"I knew they died there, but I didn't even stop to think they also could have been haunting the place," I backed away from him, the loss of contact only made me more upset. 

"We were told it was only one haunting," he talked slowly, frowning, "No one blames you."

"I just- I wish I could have done something," I looked down at my feet sheepishly before feeling a hand reach my chin. Lockwood forced me to look up at him. His eyes are stern as if he was trying to tell me I was being stupid.

"Listen to me, it isn't your fault. No one blames you. After it was broken you did everything you needed and more. You were amazing out there, I promise."

"Thank you," I whispered before realizing my eyes had looked down at his lips.

I looked back up at him. We sat there in silence, just staring into each other's eyes, waiting for the other to move. Eventually, he quickly glanced at my lips and gave me a questioning look. I nodded slightly.

His hand found its way to my cheek as he leaned in. His lips met mine. His kiss was soft and genital, almost as if he was scared to break me. He broke it but didn't move his face, away from mine. Rather he leaned his forehead against mine. We stood there for a while, both happy with the kiss. I wonder how long he has been waiting to do that because it seems like I have been waiting years. 

"Come on, let's get you to bed," He said slowly before backing his head away from mine. I frowned at the loss of touch once again.

Before I could move I felt his arms wrap around my waist. I raised my eyebrows in confusion before realizing he was picking me up. I gave a slight gasp before wrapping my arms and legs around him, scared I would fall. I buried my head in his neck, afraid to look at the floor. In response he grabbed onto the bottom of my thighs, securing me even more.

I could feel his chest rise to realize he was laughing at me, I muttered a quick "shut up" to which he had no response.

He carried me out of the living room and up the stairs to the attic where I shared a room with Lucy. Once we had reached my bed he put me down. He gave me a quick kiss on the forehead before turning to leave. I grabbed his arm down to his wrist, holding him for a second.

"Wait, Lockwood," I called quietly, attempting to not wake Lucy. He hummed in response, turning to face me fully. "Please, stay with me. The nightmares, they're just..."

"No need to explain yourself, love, I'll stay. We will just have to make sure we wake up before George and Lucy, or we will never hear the end of it." He walked back next to me as I let go of his wrist.

I moved under the covers and over to the other side of the bed. Staring at Lockwood as he climbed in next to me. I laid back, not expecting Lockwood's arms to wrap around my waist and pull me close to him. My back was now against his chest and his legs intertwined with mine as we were both curled into a ball. I tugged on his rough hand and interlaced them. I could feel a smirk grow on his face onto my shoulder.

I felt more comfortable than ever. I felt safe, wanted, and possibly needed in his arms. I closed my eyes and it was like all of my problems went away.

I just cannot comprehend that I am in the arms of Anthony bloody Lockwood. All because I asked him to stay. All because I needed comfort. Now he is laying next to me, spooning me, in my BED.

[writingsbyzuzu]

Don’t Get The Blues

Sheriff!Ted Nivison x Outlaw!Reader

if I made a typo on this one sorry pookies I tried my best to proofread

I’m glad y’all liked one, here’s two, I hope you enjoy

two- from a dream I’m waking up

Ted brushed his clammy hands on his pants, watching you for the longest time. Eddy approached, still scribbling in his notebook, before seeing you, children running around you as you laughed. “Do you know her?” Eddy asks. Ted jumps at the sudden approach, and blushes. “She and I grew up together at the orphanage. Thick as thieves back then, never left each other’s sides.”

“Then what?” Eddy asks. “I got adopted, and left her there. Left all of them there. We drifted apart, I grew into my new father’s money, and she stayed here. Nowhere else to go.” Eddy nods, as the two of them watch you.

“Things don’t have to change, peach.” Ted looks at you, earnestly, as you tie his tie. “I’m going to come back for you, once I earn money. He’s rich... We’ll fix this place. I’ll marry you and you can do whatever you like, and no one will look down at you for being poor and unmarried. Whatever you want to do with your life.” You look at Ted, his eyes full of naivety even at 15 years old. You knew better. His whole life was about to transform. The six of you didn’t fit in that new puzzle. Especially you. You shake your head. “It’s no use Teddy. You aren’t going to come back for us.” Ted looks at you incredulously. “Of course I will. You’re my best friend. You- you’re all my best friends. They’re like my brothers. I cannot live without you all.” You shake your head once more, finishing the knot. “I think you and I both know that the rules are going to change for you after this, Teddy. You can’t marry me.” You hold his hand for a minute, and there’s a knock at the door. You drop his hand as the orphanage caretaker and Ted’s new adoptive father step in. You step away from him, clearing your throat, before saying “Farewell, Theodore.” Ted gains a pained expression on his face like you just scalded him with hot water.

“Ready to go, son?” The banker outstretches his hand. The banker looks at you with a look of slight disdain, before smiling at Ted. It all but confirms your feelings. It puts a nail in the coffin of yours and Ted’s childhood dreams. Ted nods, handing him his suitcase, and walks with him. He turns to look at you one last time, mouthing “I promise.”

Theodore Nivison never kept his promises. Not ones to you, at least.

The two men stepped forward, but were stopped almost immediately. “Theodore Nivison.” Hasan stood before them. His eyes were dark, hardened by an anger Ted recognized. “It’s Sheriff,” he responds coldly. “Oh I know. Where do you think you’re going?” Hasan crosses his arms, and the two men stare each other down. “We have to interview everybody,” Eddy chimes in, a smile on his face. He puts out his hand. “Edward Burback, deputy. Nice to meet you.” Hasan shakes his hand, but his gaze never leaves Ted’s. “Mind telling us where you were this morning?” Ted asks through gritted teeth. He was kind of hoping, praying even, that Hasan would just somehow confess that he did it so Ted could just move him out of the way.

“I was with that young lady over there.” Hasan points in your direction. “Helped her round up what little cattle we have.”

“I’ll ask her that,” Ted murmurs, pushing to move past Hasan. “Don’t.” Hasan almost growls. “She shouldn’t have to talk to you, she doesn’t want to.” Ted keeps going, shaking his head. Hasan scoffs, turning on his heel to go back to where Schlatt stood. Before he stalked off completely out of earshot, Ted heard him mumble. “It’s just like you to ignore what we want regardless.”

Ted approached you, Eddy directly behind him. “Hello. It’s good to see you.” Your laughter had died as Ted approached. “What do you want?” If looks could kill, he swore he would be on fire at that moment. “Mr. Barker of the main General store was robbed. We believe a young lady was kidnapped by the robbers not far from here. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I think I would perish if something bad happened…happened to you young ladies and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

“How about perishing regardless?” You forcibly smile at him before shutting the book in your lap. It pissed you to no end that he was here. He didn’t really care about seeing your lives after your adoption, he didn’t come when something bad happened to the lot of you, but he’d come when a rich man got robbed two miles away. You knew it was his job now, but seriously? Eddy butts in. “Deputy Burback. Say miss, you didn’t see or hear anything did you? I would like to reiterate that this robbery happened about a mile or two from here. Anyone stand out?”

You shake your head at Eddy. “I brought in the cattle and then I’ve just been with the children all day. Not really any opportunities to see something amiss. I apologize.”

You felt bad for the poor deputy. His first day and he was stuck with Ted, who in turn, was stuck in your pasts. “I don’t think you’re going to find what you’re looking for here, Sheriff, Deputy. I’m sorry,” you said softly, before scooping up a young boy who had begun to cry. Ted watched you for a moment. And for a moment, he had felt like the one robbed, not Mr. Barker.

✩⭑✩

It was nighttime now, Ted and Eddy had long since gotten their horses and left. They didn’t find anything, and even if the other outskirters knew it had been the six of you who had done the robbery, they wouldn’t have said anything regardless. The people have the same thought process you did. The six of you stand around the fire, as you stirred the pot of beans. “When’s the next one?” you ask, looking over at Hasan and Kurtis. Kurtis thinks for a moment before responding. “There should be a carriage coming in to Mr. Barker’s store in a few days.” Schlatt, who was moving to pass you the bowls, looks over at Kurtis. “Do we really want to target him a second time? It’s going to seem like we’re targeting him.” You pour beans into the bowls, before speaking. “Good. It’ll throw those idiots off.”

“That Burback fellow didn’t seem like an idiot, thank you,” Hasan murmured, grabbing his bowl from your hand. “Well, Ted is an idiot and he’s Burback’s leader,” Schlatt said. “Don’t call him that, We are not his friends, he is nothing to us. His name is Sheriff Nivison.” You shove Schlatt’s bowl into him, and he looks at you with pity, before taking his spoon and beginning to eat. “I need to go to town next week, buy some supplies,” Charlie says in between bites. You sit next to him as you begin to eat. “I’ll accompany you,” you reply, smiling at him before eating. “None for me?” You hear a callout, as Ludwig approaches. He takes off his gloves, looking at the five of you. “I just worked the whole day and you didn’t even plate me a bowl.” He shakes his head incredulously. “She might be a woman but she’s not our wife, plate your own damn bowl,” Schlatt retorts before shoving a large spoonful of the beans into his mouth. “You’re one to talk, I’ve been plating your bowl since you were 14!”

The six of you laugh.

✩⭑✩

Hasan watches you as you pull back the blanket. “I tried to stop him. I know you don’t want to see him.” He spoke so softly, that you would have all but missed it if you weren’t used to it from sharing a room for ten years. “I don’t know what you mean,” you murmur, removing your hair pin and combing through the strands. “You know you don’t have to pretend with me. You don’t have to lie to me.” You sigh, putting the hairpin on the dresser, before looking at him. He gazes at you, and you can’t tell if it’s pity or sadness or mourning or what have you.

You’ve never been good at reading Hasan. But he would argue he knew you second best behind one person. “You love him. You love him, and you need to stop pretending you don’t.” You raise your eyebrows before moving to get on the bed. “Hasan, I don’t want to discuss this.” He lays next to you, and the two of you lay in silence for a moment. “Tell me Schlatt is not right. That you aren’t doing it out of spite. I, Charlie, and the rest of them, will follow you to the ends of the earth if you ask. This was your idea. If it’s spite, your anger is going to escalate and get us killed. And if I was going to die for you, that’s not how I’d want to go.” He tucks your hair behind your ear, and the two of you hold a look. “My anger is not going to interfere. He isn’t going to help the people where it matters. We can if we do this.”

“Say it.”

“I love him. But I was never meant to marry him, and I am not doing this out of spite. I want to do more, but we were thrust into this world without the ability to do more. This is what we can do.” He lays there in silence, staring into your eyes.

“To the ends of the earth,” he whispers. “To the end, old friend.” He rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m sorry you couldn’t marry him. But we could marry, if you wanted. Or Charlie. We’ve always taken care of each other. You’d be safest with one of the two of us.”

You turned onto your back as well, taking a moment. “I’ll think about it.”

✩⭑✩

Ted lays next to you on the grass, the two of you staring at the stars. You’re 11 years old, sneaking out of your orphanage bedrooms to look at the sky, an activity you’ve done every week since you befriended Ted. “If we see a shooting star-“

“When, Teddy. When.”

“When we see a shooting star, what are we going to wish for?”

“We get money. Not a lot, but enough to help. Enough for everyone not to be hungry. For everyone to be happy.”

“That’s a far shot.”

“What do you mean?” You turn your head to look at him.

“I don’t think there’s enough money in the world to keep everyone happy. Those men in town, they have all the money they could need and they are still unhappy.” He turns to gaze at you.

“Well. Then just enough to keep us happy. And enough to help as many people as we can. Until we can’t do it anymore,” you give a decisive nod, turning back to the sky. “Any other wishes?”

“One. But I won’t tell you.”

“Can I tell you mine?” Ted asks, his small hand grabbing yours. You nod. “You can’t tell anyone. But I picture us. In a house. We get married, and we’re happy.”

“I like that dream,” you whisper. You squeeze his hand. And then the two of you see it. A shooting star. “Make a wish,” Ted whispers. And you do.

Ted sits up in bed, rubbing his face. It’s been a week since the robbery, and he’s no further in determining anything than he was when he saw you. He gets up, getting dressed. He figures he’ll get breakfast at the local saloon before meeting with Eddy, so he steps out of his home. When he arrives, he sees you, walking down the road, arm in arm with Charlie. He takes a deep breath in, and decides to approach. You and Charlie stop, seeing Ted approach. Charlie looks at you, and you squeeze his arm with your hand. “Hello,” Ted says quietly, his eyes flitting between you, Charlie, and your hand, still on his arm. “Interesting to see you both.” “It’s good to see you, Sheriff.” Ted’s eyes widen at your matching soft tone. “It’s good to see you too.”

“What are you-“

“What-“

You speak at the same time. You gesture for him to go first. “What are you doing in town?” “Oh. I can’t go alone, and I didn’t want Charlie going alone. It doesn’t look good for an unmarried woman to be unchaperoned, even if she is lower class. Between that and the robbers who took that poor woman, it’s just not safe.”

“Well,” Ted began, “Needless to say, I’ll find them and bring them to justice.”

“I’m sure you will,” you say harshly, an almost sarcastic tone to it. You seem…almost hostile again, and Ted’s stomach drops, before your shoulders soften as you look at him. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. People are giving us looks. Maybe we should be on our way, lest the people think we’re suspicious. We barely get them to serve us our necessities to begin with,” Charlie suggests. Ted looks disappointed, but he nods, stepping to the side. “Until I see you again, Miss. Mr. Dalgleish.” Charlie steps forward, opening the door for you. You turn back to look at him, offering one last smile to him, as you step into the general store. And Ted allows himself to hope. But he also feels confused. Why the sudden hostility by saying he’d catch the robber?

✩⭑✩

“You look familiar.” Mr. Barker eyes you up and down suspiciously, as Charlie is telling the clerk exactly what he needs. “I’d hope so sir, I'm here twice a month to buy beans and salt pork,” you flash your brightest smile at him. “I’m not quite sure that’s it. Say. You’re that girl that’s part of that sharpshooter’s act!” You let out a small breath, unaware you were even holding it, before nodding. “Yes sir, Hasan Piker’s act. He performs out of town usually but he’s done some shows here in Red Oakland.” You continue to smile, as Charlie approaches. “Not bad for a couple of…outskirters like you. Talent may get you out of the slums. That’ll be 4 dollars.” Charlie furrows his brows as he pulls the money out from his bag. “More money than it was last month.” “Pork prices have gone up in the last month. What, you can’t pay? Do I need to bring the sheriff in here?” Charlie shakes his head. “No problem sir, we hold our own.” He puts the money on the counter, before the two of you exit. The two of you walk home, Charlie carrying the sacks of beans and rice, as you hold onto the bandages. As you climb down the hill on the path outside of town, you turn and mumble to him. “I’m glad we’re gonna rob that son of a bitch again.” Charlie throws his head back laughing, and you giggle alongside him.

✩⭑✩

Hasan aims his pistol carefully at the cart barrelling along the path, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon. He shoots, and the bullet hits the wheel, jostling the cart. As the driver stops and gets down from the cart, you and Schlatt sneak up to the driver, the two of you pointing your pistols at his head. Schlatt looks at you and then looks at the driver. He clears his throat and the driver drops what he was holding, startled. “Don’t make this difficult, sir. Give us the money you have and the vials of penicillin. And we’ll let you live,” Schlatt says, as the man slowly rises. The man looks at both of you, before tackling you to the ground, trying to wrestle for your gun, and you cry out. You hear a click. “Get off. Or I’ll shoot.” Hasan is standing over the two of you on the ground, and the man rises. You pick up your gun and also point it. The man gulps, before tossing the money and the vials into the bag. Kurtis, who had snuck up to the cart, pistol whips the man as soon as the bag was handed over.

Hasan examines you for a moment, your elbow bleeding. “Ludwig, give me a bandage.” Ludwig is busy, digging through to see if there’s anything else worth grabbing. “Ludwig!” Hasan raises his voice. Ludwig looks up, having grabbed one, tosses it to Hasan, who gingerly grabs your arm to wrap it. He wraps it quickly, clumsily, before hissing out “We need to move. Now.” The five of you scurry down the path. As you make it back to the cabin, Hasan slams the door. Charlie looks up from sitting at the table, startled. “She cannot come with us anymore.”

You and the others look at Hasan, startled and confused. “I beg your pardon?” you ask, your brows furrowing. “That man heard you cry, he’s going to know you’re a woman and that you’re part of this, and I won’t let you stand by and-“

Charlie walks over to you, examining your arm. “What happened to you?” He goes to adjust the bandages, growing concerned.

Hasan gestures to Charlie, still holding your elbow. “See that’s what I mean. She was hurt today, because that man perceived her as smaller and less of a threat, and now he knows she’s a woman. And she was hurt. We can’t let her get hurt again.”

“If Kurtis didn’t kill him.” Schlatt puts his head in his hand. “This was a bad idea, we’re going to get fucking hung.”

“Alright then, I’ll just fucking not go! I’ll not go anymore and I will just stand back and do nothing right? Just sit there and smile and be the happy little woman baking. You want me to do fucking nothing?”

Hasan looks at you, his eyes pleading. “If it’ll keep you from getting caught and it’ll keep you from getting hurt.”

You look at him, then at the others, and at Charlie. They all look to be in agreement. You look at Hasan, picturing the little boy he once was, who used to compete with Ted and Schlatt and Ludwig in boyhood races, the one who always wanted to beat Ted. And without even thinking about it, it slips out of your mouth, pulling your elbow from Charlie’s grasp. “You sound just fucking like him. You’re no fucking better.” And with that, without even looking to see their faces, to see Hasan’s face, you turn your heel, stomp into your room and slam the door shut.

✩⭑✩

Ted buries his head into hands as the cart driver slams his hands on Ted’s desk. “I was robbed by a woman during sunrise! You must do something!” Ted nods, groaning. “Yes, I understand that Mr…?” “Linus! Linus! I told you. Oh it was those forsaken outskirters, I know it was. So grimy, no money. Only they would have a woman robber.” Ted lifts his head, nodding, before having the man escorted back to the general store. “What do you think, Eddy?” “I think we ought to go back to the outskirts, push around more.” And with that, the two men headed off again. But as they arrive at the outskirts, seeing your cabin, Eddy calls out to Ted. Ted turns. “I don’t want to disrespect you. I don’t want to disrespect your past.” Ted looks at Eddy, before motioning him to continue speaking. “But thinking of the logic so far. There are five robbers. We know one’s a woman. They’re probably very close in relations.”

“Edward, don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”

The two men look at each other quietly, before Eddy speaks again. “I hope I am mistaken.”

Ted looks at the cabin, seeing his childhood friends working around the land. “I hope we are too.”

[r4vn]

—ACHE

jann x reader

w.c: 5,711

disclaimers: +18, smutty smut, nsfw, dom!jann, fem!reader, hook up is first sorry, unprotected p in v (stay safe out there guyz), creampie, grinding, sexual tension, cunnilingus (my boy a eaterr), getting railed like a nail ;), hypersensitivity, delayed orgasm, drinking, jealousy, pining, edging, fingering, hickeys, mutual orgasm, command and obey, 'good boy', reader is a TOXIC WHORE,

—synopsis: you were looking for a simple hook up to sasiate your needs. unfortunately it didnt do enough, so when your certain entanglement finds out, he intends to out-do that hook up of yours.

a/n: hi guys :D major disclaimer: you "fuck" matty davis first. but he is a nobody in this college AU except for being an attractive nerd..its slightly long but i swear its all worth it in the end ;) so bear with me for the beginning. but i hope you enjoy this dominant jann that plays with you :) all love and sorry for typos!

「divider by @/cafekitsune」

you weren't the type to get around on campus like the stories you heard of girls who did. but you did like you get what you want. you were a gorgeous girl, one who wasn't afraid to say what was on her mind. in your friend group, you entangled yourself with a particular guy, jann mardenborough. you and jann had been friends with benefits for a couple of months now, ignoring any and all allegations towards you two. in the group, it was known but unspoken of the chemistry you had with the tall brunette. but with being unclaimed, you did your own thing and it would cause problems with jann. you subtly flirted with anyone you found your type. you didn't mean anything by it, but when jann saw it, the tensions would grow between the two of you. the last time you were with him was weeks ago and right now you were aching for some intimacy.

you decided to find a hook-up. and what perfect hook-up would anyone be if it wasn't a hot nerd? you enjoyed a good cliche. matty davis was a rather quiet guy in your math lecture, but god was he rather good looking. soft black curls, broad shoulders and brown skin.

he reminded you of jann just briefly, but before you could stop your thoughts, you wondered how he, jann would react if he saw what you were about to do. how rough infatuation rage would curl at the lips of his mouth.

how hot his hands looked gripping your body...

you snap out of your thoughts to stop the boy you were with now, matty, from yapping away.

"and so the f of x is imputed by 6x–"

"matty ..let's take a break, yes? yes." you answered yourself before the deja vu looking man could respond. you hopped up from off the floor to sit on the edge of his bed. "come sit by me?" you asked sweetly. matty stuttered to catch his words, eventually clearing his throat.

"s-..sure yeah. did you want to play.. video games?" he queried with a soft, reluctant voice. you smile gently as him while your eyes glanced down to his crotch area.

"no, let's practice more math actually. my lips plus your lips." you declared. you then went to straddling him and leaning in centimeters away from his face. you giggled at the sound of matty gasping and physically tensing at the position you two were in. he almost forgot to breathe as his eyes darted between your gaze and your mouth.

"you wanna kiss me..–?" he asked in perplexity. you parted your lips and nodded eagerly, wanting to devour the boy right here.

"so so bad matty.." you gasped hurriedly with lust and quickly clouded your head. your body ached against the fine build of a man. you felt his hands resistant climbing your thighs to your waist as if he were trying to calm a severe urge inside.

"god..please [y/n]." he frustratedly mewled out. his and your eyes glazed over in pure tension between you two. before you could give permission, matty kissed you full of held-back hunger. all the eagerness. maybe because his body ached when you around. he never thought he had a chance with you. he was an attractive guy yes, but his dorky introverted demeanor did not lead him for the popular type. he was definitely known to be unusually attractive for an average computer science major though.

anyone could tell he worked out whenever he wasn't wearing a hoodie or jacket. his midnight black curly hair complimented his clay brown skin. and his soft, darkened brown eyes simply brought the whole face together. you leaned into the kiss equalling his hunger, arching into him as his hands roughly held your hips. it sent a tingle down your legs.

matty then held the side of your face with one hand, wrapping an entire arm around you with his other. you pulsated right onto his growing tent, moaning into the curly boy's mouth. grinding your hips against his earned you the most walls-aching moan you could hear from the boy under you. your walls pulsated and you could feel the drool dripping into your underwear.

you loved dominating a man just enough to the point where his entire body bent to your will, your touch, your mere presence. you always got off to male audios on pornsites, not caring for videos. seeing a man submit and tremble did things to nearly every fiber in your being yes, but hearing it rocked your walls. you gained a second heartbeat immediately listening to an audible male moaning.

"yes matty, yes–" you moaned again into his mouth, a moan of his replying. you soon were flipped onto the bed, earning him a gasp. he kissed down your throat, beginning to suck at your skin.

"not too many–" you whispered in a hush tone. "–i'll allow just one hickey." matty quickly obeyed, sucking at your neck again. he stayed in the same spot and sucked and licked, hushed whimpers escaping your throat. matty soon stopped abusing your neck and continued his kisses down your torso. you gasped as he pulled off your pants and slid in between your thighs.

really just skips right to it huh ..

you replace the brief unamusement off your face into another lusted one, watching as he kissed your clothed pussy.

hm..he kinda looks like.. that's it. no further you thought.

"hey wait– lets just...grind. i wanna tease you, please. a slow building orgasm hits way harder, i promise." you advertised. he stared at you in the slightest confusion of his foggy expression. matty blinked back into reality after thinking to himself and he began to take off his pants, simply pulling out his boner from his underwear.

"i'm alright with that ..c'mere." you giggled as he grabbed you by your waist to pull you to his lap, his cock sitting right between your soaked lips. you groaned in surprise at the pulsating warmth you felt against your entrance, nearly wanting to risk it all. but you didn't want him in the end. the beginning was just fine, whilst another man occupied your thoughts for the end.

the noirette man wasted no time grinding up against your pussy. you moaned suddenly, not expecting to be as sensitive as you were as he clothed fucked you.

"[y/n]–...[y/n] ugh–.." the man moaned under you and you quickened your pace against the man.

your pussy pulsated. you were close to cumming. it was unexpected but maybe it was because you were imagining someone else. he damn near sounded like him, only more masculine. you liked when your men trembled and mewled under or over you. to see a man look like that, made you want to ride him for hours just to hear him like that. you closed your eyes to listen to matty's whimper. you felt his legs shake and the tremble in his voice started to produce.

so close, so close, so close..!

"fuck–!!" matty suddenly said, stopping your hips. you immediately open your eyes to the boys cock convulsing between your clothed folds, that peaking orgasm of yours hitting the tip just for a second before decreasing rapidly due to no more friction being present.

"o-oh god..yes..[y/n].." he groaned. his eyes rolled even. you then sighed deeply in disappointment, matty too out of it to catch it.

"we should....we should do this again sometime." he exhaled out.

"right." you gave him a half smile and got up off of him, immediately getting your clothes.

°°°

"awh jann has become all famous on us, being a real racer and all yeah?" a boy jousted, sipping on his beer. you couldn't help but join in on the laughter of teasing jann around the bonfire. the group of friends you and jann shared would always hold a bonfire session every couple of weeks. it was nice to hangout and share a couple of beers (sometimes stronger alcohol) to get away from classes and exams.

"heh– its a good reason to get out of class most definitely." jann replied with a cheeky smile. antonio shrugged and nodded.

"thats very true, not having to sit in physics class and instead driving for fun seems like the better option." the group agreed. you sipped your beer, simply listening to the conversation. you occasionally watched jann, making sure to look away from him when he looked at you. one thing about women is that they can always tell when a man is staring even when not look at them.

"yeah definitely. i still need to study though before exams, or i am so fucked. " jann scoffed, briefly thinking about how low this grades have been. he was passing the majority of his classes, but with C's, and damn near failing physics. racing was distracting him from his more studious responsibilities and he needed to improve.

"speaking of studying–" leah chimed in, subtly walking over to you from her spot with antonio. she finished the second half of her beer before placing the bottle at her feet. a smirk played on her lips as she looked at you.

"a little birdy– cough antonio cough –told me that he saw you and matty leave math class together yesterday." your heart dropped. you didn't know why, because it's not like you were in a relationship. but for some reason anxiety filled your ribcage.

"wh– matty? the odd quiet computer nerd?" jann asked quickly, not hiding his shock. leah giggled and nodded to the curly brunette. your eyes looked over to jann, whose gaze darkened but diverted. he began to down his beer subtly, opening another one right after.

"so what?" you started. "yes we studied together, why is that such a big deal?" you scoffed.

"maybe because the two of you were nowhere to be found on campus 'studying', [y/n]. which can only mean you when to his apartment or he went to yours." leah rebuttled, tilting her head down. you took a big swing of your beer, giving her a distasteful look.

"if you must know, yes, we studied at his apartment. which, mind you, is literally a walk away from the residence building we all live in. its not like i was an hour away with a guy i sort of don't know." you explained. leah's lips formed into a downward smile before she surrendered, backing off with her hands in the air.

"these are valid points yes, but were his flat-mates there?" leah continued obnoxiously. its as if she was playing chess and she thought you were playing checkers. you rose a brow and took a glance at the rest of the group who also seemed to be interested. you had nothing to hide though. you were going to say everything but you didn't want everyone's nose in your business, especially the particular nose who wasn't looking at you but was still listening.

"no, his flat-mates were not home. we studied for maybe half an hour before i made out with him." no one said anything. shock washed over leah's face and her eyes glanced over at jann, who still wasn't looking at you. it was silently known that you and jann had a sort of different relationship than others in the group, a closer one. but the two of you always said you were single. anyone in the group could see the chemistry whenever you were near him but could also always feel the tension whenever you and jann got into ruts.

"and yes, if you must know, since you all are in my business, he was a good kisser. anything else?" you were met with silence again. you simply shrugged and grabbed another beer from the cooler, cracking it open. and with the universe already slightly fucking you over, you heard cop sirens, perking up.

"time to go!" antonio yelled, dumping a pre-filled bucket of water on the bonfire. you cursed under your breath, quickly grabbing your bag and the empty bottle. you threw it in the now unlit barrel before you, leah, jann, and antonio began running to the cars.

"go go go!" leah yelled, laughing drunkenly. you chuckled at her unseriousness, before hopping into one of the cars. you saw both leah and antonio hop into the car next to you, meaning only one thing. you turned into the driver's side door opening to jann jumping in. his eyes still wore a dark expression, and you could only curse mentally. you didn't have time to switch cars though, so you buckled up. yes, you were slightly glad jann was a professional racer which meant he could outsmart the cops. you could only hope for antonio and leah though.

jann shifted gears and reversed quickly from the empty industrial lot before driving off, antonio quickly behind. in the rear view mirror you saw the blinding cop lights, exhaling sharply.

"hold on." jann finally says. you immediately tighten your seat belt and grip the car door as jann took a sharp turn, then another, and pulled into an alleyway. he immediately shut off the car before looking behind him. antonio's car zoomed last and not long after, so did the cop car. your phone buzzed and you quickly opened it seeing it was leah.

leah

we'll lose them don't worry. you two head home!

your shoulders relax a bit more before leaning back in your seat with a sigh.

"leah said go ahead without them they will be okay." jann didn't say anything, only starting the car up again. the ride back to the flat was around 10 to 15 minutes based on traffic. you had two beers, three counting the full one you were still holding. jann had only two, so you presumed he was sober enough to drive. it was a silent ride, you didn't dare start any conversation after what was said at the bonfire. you just wanted to get home and thank jann for the ride. you lifted the bottle to your lips and quickly downed a third of it, the action made jann glance over at you.

"are you serious right now. drinking in the car?" he rolled his eyes at your absurdity. you looked around, narrowing your brows.

"i'm not the one driving, so therefore it is not unlawful." you heard jann scoff but say nothing else. seconds passed before he spoke again.

"matty, huh. you went for that out of all people?" at last, a smile threatened to appear on your lips. you knew this conversation was coming. it was* a little funny to you seeing jann jealous over someone who isn't his.

"why do you care?" you sighed.

"i don't." the brunette replied sharply. you glanced at jann again to see his eyes forward and only* forward. his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than usual.

"so why ask?" you bit back, sipping your beer again. you were met with silence again. jann was in a pissy mood and frankly you had no time for it. if he wanted to do something he could. the two of you have history, well, a background since history means in the past. but the last time you were with jann was almost a month ago, so it was relatively recent. you got into it with him because of your feelings. you got jealous at a party and you didn't want to accept you were so jann tried to call you out on it. you then went into defense mode and said some harsh things.

"i wasn't looking for an answer. it was a rhetorical question." you hummed in response. you didn't say much else and looked straight ahead as jann did.

what the fuck do you want from me ..

you didn't get with matty to spite jann. matty was attractive to you. he was what you wanted yes but not what you needed. not what your body yearned for. not what your head buzzed about.

"i didnt fuck him," you started. "there was dry humping involved though."

"oh really?" jann rolled his eyes, laughing in disbelief. you turn to the irked racer and smiled sweetly. resting your elbow on the center console with your chin in your palm, you admired how pretty jann look while jealousy painted his aspect.

"yeah. wasn't really 'dry' though, considering i was soaking through my panties. and he didn't have underwear on." you told with another few sips. jann's breathing gradually shallowed ever so slightly at your words. the car picked up speed and jann didn't dare look at you. you weren't scared, instead keeping your devious demeanor act going. you knew jann would never put you in danger and you trusted him with your life regarding cars.

"so i straddled him and grinded my soaked, clothed pussy onto his dick until he came." jann's head began to cloud his hearing, thoughts buzzing louder than your words. he didn't dare look at you, he couldn't. not with the words that left your tongue. his body became hot. and he couldn't decide if it was hot and angry or hot and bothered. neither one sufficed him though because in the end, he'd get what he wanted.

"unfortunately didn't get to finish myself. so, don't think i'd do it again with him." you sighed out dramatically before sitting back in your seat. the air in the car felt heavy now and you said nothing else for the remainder of the ride. you noticed he drove on his side of the residence building, not where you lived.

"c'mon." jann finally pulled into the parking lot of the residence apartments and quickly got out of the car. you wanted to argue. you wanted to walk away but as much as you enjoyed the chase, you obeyed jann's command and followed him to his apartment. jann unlocked his door and you followed him into the silent flat. he turned on the lights to the living room.

he then swiftly grabbed your bottle of beer and walked into the kitchen, also opening the cabinet to grab a glass.

"hey that's mine–" you started, shoulders immediately slumping as he finished it. you stood near the counter with your arms crossed as he downed your drink.

"that's for drinking in my car." he stated. the bottom of the bottle slapping the counter loudly. you shook your head and began to walk towards the door.

"stop." you did. you don't know why, but you did. you turned to jann who pulled a bottle of vodka from the fridge and filled a fourth of the glass. he immediately downed it, his lips curling at the taste.

"what, jann. why am i here?" you questioned, tired of the riddles.

"don't know, why are you?" he responded in a snarkish tone.

"you told me to follow." you replied, followed with an eye roll.

"and you listened." you were silent this time, simply staring at the tall man dominating your presence with his. his eyes met yours for a series of seconds before he took another shot of vodka. the alcohol warmed his chest even more. jann chuckled to himself with a sigh.

"i told you to follow. i told you to stop. and you listened. funny how that works?" jann pulled off his jacket, placing it over the kitchen counter. "you are at my beck and call. my command."

jann walked closer to you and you instinctively stepped back. but the second you stepped, his hand grabbed your waist to keep you from retracting. your breath hitched as you looked up to his dark gaze.

"you pine for me, [y/n]." jann derided you, chuckling. you felt taunted, mocked. because jann was right, the second he commands you, you obey. like a puppy listening to its owner. you were magnetized to the man looming over you. god you practically ached for him to either be in you, under you, or over you.

"i bet i'm better than him at it." jann finally said.

"better at what? grinding?" you snorted, grabbing the bottle from his hand. you poured your shot in his glass, downing it quickly as he did. the drink burned your throat, almost immediately hitting your bloodstream.

"that, and kissing." he scoffed.

"show me then." you proposed. you were damn near prepared for him to attack your lips.

"you first." jann retorted cockily. you rose a brow, wiping the excess vodka from the corner of your mouth.

"y...you want me to show you how he kissed me?" you asked, quite baffled.

"yep, show me." jann continued to challenge. he must have forgotten who you were. how you were.

"okay." you replied, and damn sure wasted no time.

"oka–" before he could finish repeating after you, you had pulled him by his waist and smashed your lips together like water and fire fighting for dominance. your hand cupped the entire side of his face and you wrapped a hand around his waist like matty did to you. jann made a sound into your mouth. a groan of some sort, but hearing it sounded like an impatient growl. jann quickly pinned your hands behind you on the counter, pushing up against your body with your hips connecting.

"he's a terrible kisser.." jann huffed out, caressing your face with his, and your lips with his lips. he made sure to keep the slightest amount of distance so you couldn't fully capture his lips again.

"so show me how much better you are." you managed to gasp out. jann immediately grabbed your jaw with his free hand and kissed you again. this time, it was much slower, and made you even weaker in the knees. your eyes fluttered shut as you matched his speed, moaning into his mouth. jann slowed it down even further, making sure to listen to the wet sounds of disconnecting and reconnecting lips again. the sound made you pulsate downstairs between your thighs. it made you whimper helplessly at the slowest, most hottest make out you've ever had with jann. the slow pace made you buzz all over. him humming as he kissed you with tongue made you moan from the vibration on your lips. your hips bucked against his. the slow kissing turned you on immensely and the intimacy left you in mere shambles.

"please jann." you mewled into his mouth. jann hummed tauntingly in response before picking up speed when he firmly grabbed your hair. he tilted your head back slowly whilst kissing you faster, your whimpers becoming more prominent. this, was janns secret weapon, because he knew. he knew your mouth was your erogenous zone and how it affected you physically and audibly. how you dripped at the mere action of kissing and how it made your core hot.

"you wanted better, i'm giving you better. you enjoy the chase more than being caught [y/n]," jann kissed you roughly again. "you enjoy the tension and the pining." you cried out at his words. "you'd rather be teased for hours than fucked, because the game is much more fun for you than the prize." he was right, you loved foreplay, so much that you got off on foreplay.

you loved when you and jann would have a lazy day and suddenly while watching tv he would caress your clit. flicking and rubbing to start an all-day edging session. it was one of your favorite things to do because the orgasms in the end made you able to feel your walls contract against one another.

"please use me jann please—" jann kissed down your jaw now, listening to your pleading as he went lower.

"don't worry darling, we start right here in this kitchen." jann caressed your collarbone with his lips, allowing his full hand to cup your pulsing pussy. you drew in a slow gasp and your knees felt even weaker.

"stand." he said, and you obeyed almost on cue. he rocked his hand slowly against your clothed pussy, watching your hips move in a mirrored rhythm of jann's. you moaned ever so tenderly, eyes rolling as your body began tingling all over.

"look at you already losing your strength under me. so simple." the racer finally let your hands go so you could hold yourself up as he played with you. you gripped the counter and kept your head back in ecstasy. the friction was only minimal but you were hypersensitive when it came to foreplay, because your body ached for more than just light caresses and it was never fully granted, leaving you in a craving pile of lust.

jann abused your neck as his hand swiftly undid your tied sweats strings to loosen them. he noticed the one hickey you allowed, making his blood run hotter. his hand dipped in between the fabric of your sweats and underwear. applying pressure against the soaked fabric. your feet immediately arched and a sharp gasp left your mouth. you held onto janns arms now, panting at the slightest touch you hungered to increase.

"you're practically dripping, [y/n]." jann groaned against your now heavily bruised neck. he slightly surprised himself with how many he made. he stopped giving a fuck and continued down to your collar bone. he was going to make sure the others knew who you with the night prior.

"uh huh– mmh–..yes..for you jann." you managed to mumble out.

"im .." jann pauses, his hand finally reaching between your skin and panties now, massaging your clit in slow circular motions. you broke a moan, almost falling as the man touched you. "..pleased, [y/n]."

your womanhood practically longed for him down there again. his cool fingers increase the experience times two, causing you to ride his fingers excitedly.

"so eager [y/n], breathe for me." he cooed into your skin. reluctantly, you forced yourself to slow your huffs and pants, gulping down the lump in your throat. you wouldn't believe what was happening right now. you and jann, tipsy in the kitchen with his slender cold digits down your pants and decorating your skin with various colors of red, pink, and purple bruises.

jann closed his heavy eyelids and damn near melted into you. he focused on where his fingers touched you, the tips of his fingers gliding along your lubricated lips and even wetter folds. his ears got lost in your sounds from above and below. it was near silent in the flat with his flat-mates conveniently going out on this saturday evening. between your slickness and your salacious vocals jann couldn't decide what turned him on more. he head buzzed with foggy thoughts he was going to take action on soon. his middle and ring fingers finally suddenly entered you and you groaned at the slight relief of your ache. he groaned at how warmth your insides were.

"just like that ..mhm." you pleaded as his fingers kept a smooth hooked pace. you felt jann's hard-on pressed up against your thigh and he began grinding against it impatiently. the quivers radiated through your pelvic bone and caused your entrance to gush even more around the racer's hand.

jann groaned out of growing frustration. he clenched his jaw and finally wanted to stop standing. he took his fingers from your hole and entered them past your lips where you gladly licked them clean of your juices. you finally opened your eyes to a very aroused jann mardenborough. his cheeks were flushed, his lips parted with glazed over eyes. he looked so pretty while nearly wanting you as much as you wanted him. the curly brunette finally had enough and picked you up to throw you over his shoulder. you squeaked out of surprise, trying not to laugh as you bounced gently with jann's every step.

jann entered his room and gently threw you on the bed before stripping you of your clothing. when you were finally in your underwear, he secured your wrists again down near your core and dipped down between your hips. jann pressed his tongue against your wet underwear, sucking you though the cloth. your locked fingers fiddled with the jann's while you pressed your hips further into janns tongue. the sudden difference in temperature of his tongue and his fingers caused you to shudder. jann pulled off your underwear and dug his face into your core again, lapping up your juices in content. your body bucked and squirmed as he ate you from the outside in.

"yes ..yesyes..right here–" you huffed, nearing your end so quickly after so much build up. jann continued his motions of tongue around your clit. your walls clenched, then again, then another. you were nearing.

"jann– im gonna–!!" you squeaked, ready to explode onto his taste buds. alas, the man between your thighs paused and retracted his tongue. you whined in response.

"oh [y/n], you want to cum?" jann chuckled, his facial scruff tickling your clit gingerly. you keenly rotated your hips to chase after your climax with an impatient nod.

"yes, please. i was so close i–" you babbled, looking down at the view below you. jann looked hungry, but clearly held back just to make you suffer in sexual frustration.

"i know sweetheart, but i want to play with you for a bit. i want to show you how much better i am at pleasing you yes? so you're going to announce when you are close to orgasming and i will stop everytime till i believe you deserve to cum. do you understand?" jann carefully articulated his words, your foggy head slowly taking them in.

"yes .." you murmured.

"yes what?"

"yes sir." you corrected, nodding. jann dove back into your core, licking between your inner folds once more. he pushed his tongue into you, causing a whole other wave of pleasure.

jann edged you for up to 20 minutes and you were on the edge of losing your mind. he ate you, flicked your clit with the pad of his thumb to overstimulate, and used the tip of his tongue to circle your clothed pearl. you were a hot and bothered, teary eyed, trembling mess under the giant of a man. you begged and pleaded but jann ignored. yet, he couldn't ignore the growing wet spot in his own boxers. his pulsating cock was beginning to mix with uncomfortable pressure. at last, jann finally believed you had enough. he pulled off his pants and let go of your wrists. you immediately sat up on your elbows to a lengthy cock resting above your womanhood. it was worth, hot almost and you moaned at the sight of it.

"you're going to cum by my cock, not my tongue." jann concluded, rubbing your wetness with his length. his tip encircled your swollen pretty clit, causing him to curse under his breath. the way you were sprawled out under him practically pushing onto his cock made him want to finish right there. he wasted no time pushing his stiff length into you. a mutual moan escaped the both of you from the rush of relief and pleasure.

"jann.." you trembled out with every thrust. you were all caught up in your clouded mind, moaning his name over and over again. jann's eyes fluttered closed, listening to your voice like it was his favorite song playing over and over again. he lost all restraint inside of you, not holding back anymore. he grabbed your thighs and pinned your legs back to begin ramming into you.

jann's cock dug through you at the new position, nearly causing you to cry out loudly. you half covered your mouth with one hand and gripped the cotton sheets with the other. your vision went in and out from such immense ecstasy diffusing throughout your limbs, your bones, every fiber of your being.

"[y/n]– you feel so..good–" jann groaned, licking his lips. he smiled briefly to see you so incapacitated under him, full of bliss. your walls clenched around him again and again.

soon your legs began to tremble as you were rammed into like a nail with a hammer. you loved it, you missed it even. it had been nearly a month since you can jann hooked up, all because you wanted to deny certain feelings and thoughts. you didnt know what the hell was going to be said after this fuck session so you only worried about the present; you were reaching your orgasm for the upteenth time and you wanted it more than ever.

jann could feel your second heartbeat against the head of his cock and readjusted to hit right above your cervix, where the heartbeat met his tip. a shudder shot down his spine suddenly, he was close. and your increasing contractions were assisting both you and him to climax.

"are you going to cum [y/n]? yeah? hm?" the brunette moaned out. you mhm’ed several times, your voice getting higher with each one.

"i give you permission." and with those words, you shut your eyes and moved your hips to the rhythm of jann's for your reward.

"jann...jann–! ..yes yes im gonna– ..cumming–" you cried out, inducing full body convulsions. "–cumming!" you managed to sob out. jann slowed his thrusts to watch your being tremble under him. he was at his limit now, whimpering at your erotic demeanor.

"mmh– [y/n]– i need to cum ..please let me cum." you opened your eyes to a very pent of jann trying his best not to finish. you couldn't help but smile. such a dominant man still asking for permission. you could say you both are wrapped around each other's fingers.

"cum for me jann." you declared, mewling as he thrusted into you again for a few more. jann reached his orgasm right as yours was finishing, his cock pulsing in response to your walls. jann's voice went up a pitch higher in his moans with his hips bucking from his high.

"good boy.." you moaned out, reaching for him. jann leaned into your hands, allowing you to cradle his head as he laid on you. you moved his head upwards to meet his eyes before kissing him sweetly.

"good boy."

© r4vn ²⁰²⁴, do not repost my work.

hope u enjoyed!!!

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love?

Chapter 2

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

The Dreaming was very different from what Love remembered. Decading, fading. She couldn’t hear the dreamfolk. It was as if a war had taken place in the realm. She could not have known if it did, the last time she was in the Dreaming, her spouse banned her to the Garden. Otherwise, Love would never let her husband’s realm fall into such dismantle and abandonment. Even before her husband absence, Eoster had already set aside any dreams of making her husband's realm her home or seeing her children running through the palace room. However, she couldn't ignore the sadness in her heart of seeing all of the Dreaming destroyed.

“My lady Eoster”. The deep pink skirts of Love’s structured dress ruffled as she turned to face Lucienne. The Queen opened a sincere room-lightening smile, reaching to her husband’s librarian. “Blessing from the Garden, my darling friend. How are you? You seem…" Her voice died, it is impolite to say someone look tired, although there was no better way to put it. Lucienne looked exhausted. Deep purple circles under her eyes.

The librarian exitated for a moment seeing the woman turned. If the librarian didn’t see the King of Dreams summon his wife, she would never recognize her queen. Lucienne lightly shook her head, bowing respectfully. It was the Queen of Love, her sweet soothing voice was unmistakable, but she looked different.

When Love was in the Dreaming for the first time, her thick long brown curls were always in a loose braid or run freely in her back, she often wore delicate flower crowns, as the fashion in the Garden, along with flowy lovely almost see-through draped dresses with low necklines, enough to entice her husband imagination, but respectful enough to a Queen. Delicate as renaissance painting. A very different from the thick long curls now secured in a very elaborate hairdo, a golden embroidered crown and a deep-pink colored structured silk gown, with a tight corset accentuating her breasts, and long sleeves that touched the floor. More mature, womanly, confident, like a baroque painting. She was not the naive princess that moved to the Dreaming centuries ago.

“What in gods' name happened? If you are in need of help, Lucienne, please you must come to me” Lucienne’s eyes brightened, Love may not look the same but her nature was still kind, her generosity still abundant. “Thank you, my Queen. It is a blessing to have you back. We sure miss your springs. I hope you can stay” Love squeezed the librarian’s hand. The only time The Dreaming had a shining sun, and blooming flowers was when Eoster was around. ‘I hope you can stay’. Although she kept a polite smile, Eoster didn’t want to stay in the place responsible for her suffering any longer than necessary. Especially with her husband's return.

The queen could feel the king's eyes on her, his dark looming presence on the throne, the only sit in place, since he never made one for his wife. A clear reminder that she was a Queen only in paper. Love chose to ignore him. It was not defiance, he couldn't accuse her of that. Not if he did not made himself present.

“Are you married, boss?” Love looked around, trying to see whose voice it belonged to. The sound of little feet hopping made her look down, seeing a raven unknown to her, hopping near her feet and tilting its head. An unknown raven. This was odd, Morpheus' ravens were one of the few things close to him, he let her get to know “I don’t know this little one. Do you have a name, raven?” She smiled, leaning to him. “Matthew, my…er...” He looked from Eoster to Lucienne, and the librarian probably whispered the answer because he did what Love thought was the cutest bow a raven could do "My Queen".

It didn’t go unnoticed that Matthew was not familiarized with the ideia of Dream being married. Morpheus, once again, making a fool of his Queen. She should not be surprised. “Blessings from the Garden, Matthew. Are you a new raven to my husband? How is Jessamy taking the competition?” Matthew looked from to Lucienne to his queen “ Er- Oh boy, that is a hard one, well you see, Jessamy is-”

“Enough”. A shiver ran through Love’s spine. There he is. His voice. Always the same: Demanding. Impatient. Her husband. Love turns her heels, not quite facing him, as she is facing the floor, making a small courtesy. “Lord husband”. Emotionless and polite. After decades of euphoric running to her husband’s arms, sweet kisses, and being greeted with a cold shoulder, she gave up trying, and mirrored him with the same coldness he offered her. “Lady wife”. Something in his tone made Love look at him, she never heard it before, but if she would guess, it sounded like he was almost…tired.

Her King definitely wasn't the same, paler than usual, fragile, weak, she could see and sense his weakness. Something did happen. Love opened her mouth but no words came of it. Something deep in her heart wanted to embrace him, ask what happened, to care for him, mend his pains, but she didn't. He did not deserve it. Her soft heart might do good to remember it. If the opposite had happened, do you think he would care? It was a waste of care to pity Morpheus. After all, why ask if he is just going to mock her for caring? Or be furious for Love to think that someone could weaken him? Or even tell her to stop meddling in his affairs. No, she knew better.

Love intertwined her fingers in front of her corset, trying not to look fazed by her husband's current state “Our realms shall now rejoice for your return, my king” Morpheus frowed. He expected something…different from her. She gave him a neutral answer, a political welcome, not a crack in her voice, her face was as if she was talking about the weather, not to her husband who was gone by 100 years. He remembered his wife's kisses, always saying the most gentle and caring words, empathic to all creatures, even nightmares and demons. He also remembers that she was a passionate fighter, whenever they were quarreling she was always very emotional and constantly nagging. Neither those memories seem similar to how Love was behaving. He knew that he was neglectful but isn't he worthy of her empathy? Or her anger? He didn't needed it. But she was his wife, wasn't she?

She kept a stiff posture even if her body trembled a little. Without knowing she was holding her breath. She long stopped being angry at Morpheus, as it showed to be useless. In the beginning she used to scream and cry, locking herself in her bedroom for weeks, wishing for death or for her king to come and ask for forgiveness, she dreamed of him on his knees begging for a chance to gain her favors once again. He never did. As the years went by, Eoster gave up, in expecting anything else than nothing from Morpheus. But seeing him again, she couldn't help but to feel angry. All those intense negative emotions taking over her senses. She wanted to slap him across his face, scream, break everything dear to him in the palace.

It would be easier if he would just make a fuss for her not acknowledging his missing. She actually wished for it, giving her grounds to let out her frustrations. But that was not like her husband, his fury was a silent one, not one with screams and physical violence. He was an Endless, after all.

Morpheus stared deep into her eyes, making Eoster almost step back. There was hurt and fury in his calm voice. "A hundred years gone. Did you even wondered where your husband was?" Love knew that tantrums did nothing but annoy her lord husband. She wanted him to feel forgotten. Like he made her feel for centuries. So instead of indulging in intense reactions, she responded calmly and sensible after an uncomfortable silence "A hundred years is but a glimpse of time for an Endless"

The silence took over the throne room, even Lucienne and Matthew felt the tension, the couple disguising their true feelings through polite words, followed by long games of silence. It was until the Queen broke it, annoyed by the prolonged time this reunion was taking, trying to appear calm, signing, turning herself to assess the destroyed room. ” I assumed you had taken another mistress.” Once, she would have been mortified by even thinking about other women, but now? There was no reason for it. The whole realm knew it anyway. “I assumed you were courting her.”

“Oh fuck, a mistress?”

Lucienne sushed Matthew, but not quick enough so Morpheus wouldn’t notice "Leave", he turned his gaze to the librarian, the king didn’t need to say more, they were quickly and happily gone . Lucienne did not want to see the end of this quarrel, Matthew didn't know, because he wasn't yet around when they quarreled. The librarian knew how it would end. Lady Love would hold her tears until back in the Garden and Lord Morpheus would take out his frustrations out in any subject, wherever guilty or not.

Love forgot that they had an audience present. Good, that might set the mood for Morpheus. He hated being exposed, especially to his subjects. Everyone in the Dreaming knew the couple was not a happy one, but they politely pretended not to know, as Eoster and Morpheus pretended not to be aware that their failed marriage was of public knowledge.

He got up from his throne, Love kept her face straight, as he stared deep into her eyes and she stared right back, not looking away, as he walked towards her. “May I remind you, my Queen, that you are Queen of the Garden as you are Queen of The Dreaming? Mistress! Was that it? The reason you let your subjects to their own luck? Jealousy? Has the Lady of Love no commitment to her duties? Is she incline to such cruelty?"

The air around them thickened, she breathed heavy, chest burning in anger. How dare he? How dare he guilting her about his realm destruction! Usually she would turn her back and walk away, not giving herself the trouble of explaining to her husband his own duties. However, accusing her of not caring for the dreamfolk, she would not have it. Not when it was his fault. With a deep breath, biting her tongue to hold the curses she wished to scream to him, squeezing her fingers to not squeeze his neck “May I remind you, my lord husband, that in our last quarrel, you banned me from the Dreaming.”

Love grinded her teeth. By the look on his face, taken aback by her. he had forgotten about that. “ In your words, I was only allowed here, through your calling.” Words like thorns, cultivated from years of neglect. “ So no, lord husband, I did not forget about the Dreaming nor I neglected it. For I do not let my personal matters interfere with my duties toward my realms." 'Unlike you', she thought. Love shook her head in disbelief, how could he accuse her of being selfish?! She sacrificed her own happiness to live a miserable marriage, she chose to never take lovers and she never even condemned him for his love affairs! She knew more than she wished to know about tolerance and permissiveness, he had no right to accuse her of cruelty. Not him. “And Jealousy! How can I have jealousy of something I never had? Spare both of us, I beg you this. Don't blame me for your sins for you know they are yours and yours only." The anger takes over her body in a way, she has to walk away from her husband or she would slapped him. "You forget yourself, wife" He warned, but she didn’t care. She didn’t even realize when tears start staining her cheeks " No, you forget yourself, husband." She angrily turns back dropping her hands “How dare you question my commitment to my duties?! When did I ever, pray tell me, neglect my responsibilities? Can you, husband, say the same? Wherever were your responsibilities with your wife? " He stayed silent. "Why, should I go after my husband? Only to see him bed another woman? Please another whore? Father a bastard? To watch you being so infatuated that even mortals dream of her?" As it has happened before, for her shame. "What was it this time? Another mortal? Another muse? A fallen star? It must've been a good one for letting your kingdom in-”

"I WAS CAPTURED" The King roar echoed through the room. She coied herself away,bracing for the worse. Morpheus never raised a hand towards her, but she never showed such insubordination to him. He warned, and she pushed. He may not hit her, but he would ban her for the millenia, maybe even send her to hell. She could almost see the grin in Morningstar’s face. "There was no mistress". He said the word with such spite that one might think he never indulged in such behaviors. Knowing Morpheus he would probably punish mortals to never dream of love again.

She looked at him confused. An Endless captured? Impossible. Could it be a trap set by Desire or Despair? There was no other possibility. He could see the question in her eyes ``A mortal. He wanted my sister, Death, but captured me. I was imprisoned for all these years. Unable to return. And Jessamy? She-” His voice cracked. Dead. Jessamy was dead.

Love didn’t understand. An Endless, her husband of all of them, one of the most powerful beings in the universe, at the mercy of a mere mortal. The idea of it was absurd, more than that, it was impossible. Even before their marriage, between all the beings it was a well known truth that marrying an Endless was to marry security, protection, to never be challenged, except by other Endless, and even then, family could not spill blood of family, and by marriage, this also extends to her.

An imprisonment explained her husband's more than normal pale skin, and how weak he seemed. Love couldn't help herself but to feel sorry for her king, sorry to think the worst of him. Yes, he did take mistress after mistress, and the gossip around all the entities was how infatuated he was for his lovers, so it only seemed obvious to Eoster that he was pursuing a new passion. She was so bitter and angry at him that she forgot how he was also one of the most devoted among all his siblings to his realm. He might had a mistress, but would never leave it to be destroyed. Love fiddled with her fingers, her cheeks red with embarrassment, lowering her eyes to the ground. "Forgive me, I…" She whispered ashamedly. It was true he cheated before, constantly, she had grounds to accuse him, but she was the Lady of Love, and love is always forgiving, it is always patient, it doesn’t hold grudges, so what was she doing? Not listening to him, not being empathic to her husband, has she become so cold after all these years? Has she become like Morpheus?

If only the Dream King had been a better husband, if only he had shown her kindness and companionship. Their reunion would not have been like this. In truth, if he had been a better husband, she would never let him leave.

Since she couldn’t make words for it, at least not in meaningful words, she falled in her knees. Eoster defied him, she knew the rules "Forgive me, please, I…I shall take whatever punish you seem fit." Love was certain he would send her back to the Garden, maybe never wanting to see her again, maybe this time for eternity. The weight of her words weighed her. Did she actually scream at her husband? Did she actually do it? What reckless behavior. It wasn’t like her, not of late. Eoster was always contempt, always submissive. Why was she furious with someone she concluded long ago would not be able to love her?

"I have no intention of punish you, my lady" she frowned her brows, looking at him puzzly as he signed, tired "I…" In his imprisonment maybe he forgot about punishments? Maybe he had grown mercy on him? "My Lord, I embarrass myself and you, accusing you of sins you did not commit. I shall retreat to the Garden and think about my behavior". Love suggested what seemed like something her husband would impose. He stayed silent, looking at her, offering his hand to help his Queen get up.

"I wished you back in the Dreaming." His words were uncertain, if she didn't know better, she would say that Morpheus was nervous and maybe a little shy in asking her that.

Eoster tilted her head, not daring to get up. She wasn’t sure if he wasn’t toying with her, even if it was very unlike him. She looked into his deep blue eyes, trying to read his face to figure out where this was going. Love could kind of understand why he would show mercy at her, after all, he might need her powers to restore his destroyed realm. But to ask her back to the Dreaming? No. That was…It couldn't been. Not after this disaster of reunion. She needed to appeal to reason, without appearing shocked. "My Lord, forgive me, I am sure you remember, but I do have a court".

One of their biggest quarrels. The Garden had a full court, very different from the Dreaming. Her husband's palace was quiet and ethereal, very different from Love's palace at the Garden, with constant music, talking, laughs, ladies and lords running through the halls. Balls, concerts, feasts, festivities happening almost on a daily basis. Eoster was always followed around by her closest cupids, her creations, and ladies and lords in waiting, entities from other realms learning the ways of the heart.

When they got married, she wanted to bring them to the Dreaming. Morpheus instantly denied her. They quarreled for days. It only stopped because he went to the mortal’s realm. He didn't want to be disturbed by gigglings and mindless conversations that he was certain Eoster court would be full of. And she just wanted to feel less lonely, to be around some familiar faces, that didn’t treat her so distant as the dreamfolk treated Morpheus, and by extent, her.

It would take decades to dreams and nightmares to learn that Eoster was very different from her husband. That she wanted to be close, to actually know them and have them around. In the end, to not have his wife moping in the corners and pouting, he allowed her to go to the Garden, to attend her realm’s affairs and socials.

" I do remember it." He said, more certain. Standing in front of her, she could feel his gaze. Love upheld her head. Did this awful mortal that captured him, torture him in a way he lost all his senses? What could possibly make Morpheus change his mind? That was one of the main reasons Love and Dream fight: His stubbornness to change. He didn’t want a wife, a court, a new realm to take care of. He didn’t even accept her purest devotion. "I have new ladies and lords in training, I cannot leave them without guidance" She mentioned politely, to avoid another confrontation by saying that he couldn’t expect her to drop everything at his command. (She once would have done it. But that was the past). She took his hand, getting up, as he unfazed by her appeals he concluded "Bring them."

Eoster dropped her mouth open, and almost fell back on the ground. She was too stunted to speak. She couldn't answer, the truth was she didn't wanted to come back, this wasn't her home. Love thought that if she reminded him why she couldn't be back, he would drop the subject. The Dreaming was never her home. Morpheus never allowed her to make it her home. The Garden was. She liked Lucienne and her subjects, but long ago her husband made it clear that this was his kingdom, and she was its queen but her role was not to actively rule, but to be more of an accessory, to decorate Morpheus arms whenever needed, to fulfill the role of devoted and beautiful wife.

Eoster raised an eyebrow. If this was a game or a trap, she would soon discover, as she pushes him for conditions he would not in eons accept. That she was certain of, imprisonment or not, he was still the Dream King. "As you wish, I will ask Lucienne to see Elijah to make arrangements for my court". The lady got up, dropping his hand as soon as she was on her feet, entangling her fingers against her corset, taking a few steps away from Morpheus, testing the Dream King's newfound goodwill. "Since you are in such high spirits, my lord husband, may I speak freely?” He slowly nodded in agreement, holding his tongue not to say that she did more than speak freely a few moments ago, but decided to avoid another fight, since he truly intended his wife to be back at his side. And fighting her, would not aid his cause.

Years of imprisonment gave him time to think, at first he did not think of Eoster at all, but after the loneliness and mistreatment, he started to long for his wife. He never expected to miss her talking, the gentle kisses, the eagerness to be close, the longing to be part of his realm, how she welcomed him to bed even if he did nothing to deserve the touch of her delicate naked skin. He realized that he didn’t actually know her, even after centuries married, he never had any interest in getting to know her. That pained him, thinking if he would get the chance to know her. Eoster could have dealt with the Corinthian. They were fond of each other. And she had a way of understanding and embracing troublesome nightmares, better than him. Although Morpheus would never admit it.

After examining her through their reunion, he could perceive the differences between the Eoster he once married. She grew cold, distant, avoiding his gaze, avoiding him, staying at a safe distance at all times. He cursed himself and his heart felt heavy for knowing that in most part, if not for all, he was to blame.

When they got tricked into marriage, Dream spent years holding a grudge against Eoster, thinking she had much part in Desire’s trap as his sibling. Maybe she was infatuated by him, and Desire offered a quick way to make him hers. He never directly asked her, but they were close, one may say they were even friends, if his sibling ever had those. After all, Love and Desire were, for mortals, two sides of the same coin. They worked too close.

He thought all her devotion was a farse. A plan to make him fall for her, to make a fool of him, to destroy him. Desire knew how infatuated he was for his lovers, and they were not the mistress of love. Imagine how would he be if he was devoted to the Queen of Love? Desire would have him completely annihilated.

“The solstice ball is to be held in a week in the Garden, but since you insist in my company, I assume you won’t mind it to be held here, in the Dreaming? After all, as you kindly remember I am Queen of the Dreaming as you are King of the Garden.” She wandered away from Morpheus, walking in the throne room langley, avoiding his gaze, afraid he would realize what she was doing. This would definitely make him exile her again. Back to the confort melancholy that she accepted as a dear friend over the years. “And thinking of the politics of all, It is the most appropriate time. It will show renewed strength to our subjects and especially to your siblings.” Who she was certain had something to do with his imprison. This has Desire written all over it. “They, of course, shall all be invited, and you, lord husband shall show them that you are not beaten down by some mortal, that you are stronger than ever."

She knew Morpheus. He hated festivals, balls, parties, all events that the Garden was full of. And inviting his siblings? Morpheus would be dead before Desire or Despair step foot in the Dreaming. She was pushing him through the edge. To the king of dreams to accept such terms, it was a true act of desperation. No, Love knew her husband, she knew his temperament. He would deny her proposition, and send her back to the Garden to even dare propose such an idea. Maybe not now, after all, he was imprisoned, alone, starved of touch. Morpheus probably would want a private visit of his wife in his chambers. He had no mistress over these years, Love knew by coming that their meeting would most likely end with her covered in sheets crossing a hall.

It took a few moments of silence, Eoster pretending to be assessing the damages, touching the decaying columms that seem once so strong, so fragile now. She could almost hear the engines in his head turning, considering whateve or no- " Fine. Give me a few days to restore my possessions and rebuild my realm. You can bring your court, and prepare the festivities." Morpheus offered her a semi-smile. She could feel her cheeks starting to grow red, immediatly turning away from his gaze. After all these years, all the mistreatment, a single smile ( not even that!) made her into a blushing maid. She lightly shook her head, focusing on the madness she was listening to. Di-did her husband just agree with her court and the solstice festival AND to his siblings all in The Dreaming? No. What? No. " I-I'll return to the Garden and inform my court of our new arrangement, my king" She gave a small courtesy, her skirts dancing through the floor as she walked away from her husband, still not sure this was actually happening. Feeling light on her feet. She needed to get out of here fast, or she would faint.

Her husband. Dream of the Endless. Lord of Nightmares and Dreams. He was, it sounded like madness to even think about it, but he was, wasn't he?

He was longing for his wife.

No

Love did not believe this. It was a need of power, a need for companionship, starvation of touch. He would come to his senses.

[darthpastry]

Episodes Editing because typo but I meant- Spoilers for the most recent episode of Doctor Who (Boom) below the cut!

WE ARE SO BACK WITH THE SHITTING ON CAPITALISM 🙌

Wasn’t a huge fan of the writing for 11’s run, but Moffat saw he had one chance to go bug or go home and went big of big could possibly be the Doctor standing on a landline literally the entire episode. Also Ruby almost died yayyy

The description is so funny “the Doctor has to stop a war with stepping on a mine” babe, I got HORRIBLE news for you lol.

So glad they were able to shit on capitalism despite Disney. Reminds me of when 12 did it and that makes me so happy. We are so back in comparison to when 13 had to deliver a monologue about how capitalism isn’t the problem that one minimum wage worker was. I will never forgive them for doing that to my poor girl.

It’s also pretty funny in comparison to the last episode, you know? If the Beatles didn’t make MUSIC we would all DIE and this VILLAINOUS DRAG QUEEN FROM ANOTHER DIMENSIONAL PLANE is EATING MUSIC and KILLING anyone who MAKES MUSIC. It was so unserious. Crack treated seriously if you will. Versus capitalism is shitty as fuck and when you combine capitalism and religion you get pointless war that’s impossible to win. But also the DAD killed the EVIL AI with THE POWER OF LOVE and now capitalism is GONNA DIE.

Also as other people have been saying, this season is so unsubtle. Bless.

[siriannatan]

Prep & Punk - Flower Husbands

AU by @vyeoh, it's really cool and stuff and all their art is really good

AO3

[Treebark thingy from this AU]

Jimmy would literally rather be anywhere but where he was now. In Scott's bedroom. Trying to focus on maths. With only him and Scott in the whole house. Completely unable to focus.

Why was Jimmy spending his weekend with Scott and not Grian and Joel? As much as studying wasn't a 'bad boy' thing,  almost failing most his classes was apparently even less so. So their math teacher assigned Jimmy a tutor - Scott apparently volunteered to spend his time trying to get some information into Jimmy's head. He had no idea why after their last rather messy break up and the whole Tango thing... jimmy tried really hard to think about geometry and not that. It wasn't all that hard. But quite frankly focusing on anything right now was a bit difficult.

In the past three months, he spend pretty much ignoring Scott's existence he forgot about a certain habit Scott had. He liked to wear skirts. Not a bad thing in the slightest. Jimmy was all for everyone wearing whatever they wanted. He, Grian and Joel had their leather jackets. Cleo, Scar and Bdoubs their weird old people shades, and Tango and his friends had their ties. Scott and Martyn had Pink. The capital 'P' is not a typo. Literally every Wednesday the two showed up in pink. And back when Jimmy was dating Scott he himself would wear something pink to fit Scott better. 

Grian and Joel still poked fun at him for that.

No. The skirt was neither nothing new or a problem in itself. The problem was how much of Scott's legs it exposed, making Jimmy's brain unable to think about anything but that. And suddenly realise he's missing Scott. But who could blame him? Scott was damn pretty and smart and... just Scott. And that maybe his marks were better when he'd sit around Scott and Martyn - very unhappy that Scott would explain everything to Jimmy at least three times - studying. Jimmy was no Grian or Joel, just hearing about a thing during the class was not nearly enough for him.

A sudden flick to his forehead had him looking up at Scott's face. It was no less distracting than the skirt. "Eyes up here Jim," he chuckled and Jimmy felt a weird pang. He never called him back when... "Have you heard a single word of what I just said?"

"Juliet's potion only made her look like she died?" Jimmy tried to scrabble together something they talked about in the past hour. He instantly knew he was wrong by the sigh Scott let out.

"We're at maths, Pythagorean theorem," he said but did not sound the slightest bit angry. Just a bit disappointed and maybe sad. "You didn't use to be that bad, Jim, no matter how short of a skirt I wore in the past. What happened?" he asked, pushing some hair off of Jimmy's face.

Jimmy just shrugged. He was not about to admit he didn't really study without Scott there. "I don't know," he shrugged instead and tried to focus on the pale pink, full of colourful side comments and sticky notes page of Scott's notebook. Scott's notes were always so clear and easy to understand. Jimmy sat through more than one session of Scott working on them and technically understood how it worked but was still beyond impressed. "I guess I was busy with other things..."

"I know I'm probably the least 'bad boy' person you know but you know you can always come and ask me if you don't understand something?" Scott sighed, leaning back and gently kicking Jimmy under the low table they were sitting on a fluffy carpet by. "I know you probably like Tango better... I can see when I've lost but... I don't want you to fail school. Not when I know you're smarter than that," he said, looking away from Jimmy, all slumped and sad and Jimmy felt mildly like a jerk.

He broke Scott's heart with a damn text. Managed to stay together with Tango for only like a month until they both realised they are too different. And then spend two more months avoiding Scott and admitting his own feelings. And throwing all the studying Scott practically dragged him through away... "No... Me and Tango... We weren't all that compatible... Not that way. He's cool to hang out with but most of the time I have no idea what he's talking about, it's damn hard to keep up with him..."

"Jim... please don't..." Scott protested and pounded the table. Glaring at Jimmy with teary eyes.

"I'm not," Jimmy stopped him and gently took his and in both of his. "I've spent three months being an idiot and I'm frankly done with that. I missed you. I missed carrying your bag. I missed you leaning on me when there are no free chairs or we're stuck in a line. I missed sitting silently while you study. I even missed Martyn's grumbling. But mostly I missed listening to you talk and just being around you... I missed you Scott," Jimmy really hoped he managed to express what he just realised. That his grouchy and angry phase was just him denying he was missing Scott playing with his hair and playing with Scott's hair. "I miss you so damn much..." he added, barely a whisper, not daring to look away from Scott for even a second.

"You promise... you promise it's all true and nothing but?" Scott sniffed, staring at his held by Jimmy's hands. 

"I do, Scott," Jimmy nodded. He was never so sure of anything he's ever said.

"So it'd be okay if I said we should have a break and maybe a nap?" Scott asked with a pout.

Jimmy had nothing against a break and a nap. Maybe ended up texting home he'd be staying over at Scott's and not at all telling Grian and Joel where he was the whole weekend. And maybe Scott wore Jimmy's leather jacket the whole Monday. And maybe there was a bright pink hairpin in Jimmy's hair.

[cheesemittens]

Hai! I saw that you were taking fic requests and if it's ok with you I was hoping you could write one for Tangerine? Where reader is working w/ the twins for years now and is oblivious to all of Tangerines advances to her bcuz she doesn't really think he likes her. Come to the event where they're on the bullet train and they're trying to do their mission but everything went to shit. So Tan leaves Lem and Reader to wait while he tries to find Ladybug and there comes a chance where Lemon tells her himself about Tans feelings and advances and how oblivious she was and she becomes in denial

And that hopefully in the end, after she got shot in like the shoulder by saving Tan from almost being shot by Ladybug she sees how Tan reacts and she goes "oh shit Lemon was fr not bullshiting" and at the end they get out the train safely and no one dies and have a very real, and cannon happy ending 💕💕

OMG, YESS!!! Thank you so much for the request! I'm so sorry it took so long- BUT- I had a lot of fun writing this and I really hope I did your suggestion justice😭 Word Count: 1656 Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Violence (nothing that doesn't happen in the movie), Fluff, a bit of angst(?), Reader & Tan being obvious, pet names (love), Totally cannon ending where Tan is alive, happy, and healthy, Reader gets hurt :(, allusions to smut? Over all Lemon being fed up with Tan and you exchanging goo-goo eyes and not acting on it <3. I don't think I followed the events in order so- bear with me heh <3 NO USE OF Y/N!! NOT PROOF READ! MAY CONTAIN TYPOS! Send me a request!

You have been working with the two brothers, Lemon and Tangerine, for a while now. Picking up odd jobs. Whatever pays the most. And even though these two could get on your nerves, you enjoyed your time with them. They never once made you feel different. Never told you, you couldn't do something because it was 'too dangerous for a woman'.

Well, that was true until recently. You see, Tangerine has slowly become more aware of every mission's danger. Sure he knew you could handle yourself. He knew that you wouldn't get hurt. But he didn't want to risk it. So naturally when he took this job for the White Death, he was against you coming.

Yet here you are. Sitting by the window, next to a semi-pissed Tan.

It all started when you insisted to join. Saying how you've sat out the last 2 missions, and you weren't going to miss another. Then, Lemon lost the briefcase. After that, you three find the White Death's son dead. The Cherry on top was they (White Death) knew you lot didn't have the case.

"Alright, I'm gonna go find this prick and teach him a lesson. You two stay here, yeah?" You heard Tan speak up, making you look over at him. "But I wa-" "Ah ah- No buts. You're staying here." He said firmly before getting up and walking off

You sighed as you watched Tangerine walk off. Lemon watched him as well before fixating his gaze on you.

"You know he likes you, right?"

"What..?" Surely you didn't hear that right. Or you must be dreaming. Because you thought there was no way in hell that someone as hot as Tan could ever like you back.

"Did you go deaf or somethin'? I said my brother likes you. It's painfully obvious." Even when he repeated it, you looked at Lemon like he had two heads. "I-I think you're mistaken.. There's no way he likes me.." Lemon just rolled his eyes. "Look, I wouldn't lie to ya' about this. I see the way you look at my brother. You clearly fancy him a lot. And he feels the same. I mean, it's painfully obvious to everyone else. He's told you how many pickup lines since we got on this train? And how many through our whole time together? And don't even get me started on the looks you two give each other when the other is turned!"

"I-.. I thought he was just being friendly.." You mumbled, still in denial. You refused to think someone who seemed so out of your league liked you. "Yeah? Well, he wasn't. He's been trying to rack up the nerve to ask you out like a proper gentleman, but every time he asks, you're off in your own world."

You shook your head firmly, looking out of the window. "Would you stop being such a stubborn priss and just open your eyes? You two fancy each other! Just confess and move on. If I have to sit through another mission filled with romantic and sexual tension I might just quit."

You continued to talk to Lemon, arguing over if Tan likes you back or not before transitioning to a more tame conversation. Though your mind kept wandering back to what he said. You couldn't help but wonder if you were in the wrong about it.

It had been a while since you got separated from Lemon. You were worried, alone, and in all honesty? Scared. You didn't feel safe without being with one of the twins. Preferably Tan over Lem. But you wouldn't mind Lem.

You walked around the eerily empty train before finding an open bathroom, your eyes widening as you saw a bloodied Lemon. Quickly you knelt to his level and checked for a pulse, luckily finding one. You examined him more and saw Tan's necklace around him. Of course he'd jump the gun and think the worst.

You quickly got up, running through the train to find him. You bumped into another girl on your way down. You gave her a skeptical look. "Watch where you're going!" She yelled at you as she continued on.

You couldn't help but scrunch up your nose in disgust. You could barely notice a Thomas the Tank Engine sticker on her back. Diesel. So that's who drugged Lem.

You made a mental note to find her later, no doubt she thought Lem was dead so you didn't have to worry for now. Continuing down the train. Eventually, you saw him, saw your Tan fighting another guy. They didn't see you yet. So you tried to quietly sneak up on the other one. But when you saw him reach for the gun, it was game over.

You ran as fast as you could and pushed Tan out of the way right when the gun fired, not even feeling the pain in your shoulder when it was done with.

It was like time was going in slow motion for Tan. One minute he was fighting this Ladybug guy, then the next everything was going significantly slower, watching you run towards him and push him away. He had to blink a few times before landing on his ass with a groan, looking up at you and watching a bright red liquid start to stain your white shirt.

If his eyes could change colors, they would be bright red, staring at the man with the gun who was behind you, not even giving him a second to get out the words "I'm sorry" before he had him up against the wall.

"First, you come in here while I was about to kill the bloody Diesel, then you try to kill me, not believing me when I said that she's trying to make us all kill each other. And then! The fuckin' cherry on top, you try to kill me. But you shoot my partner instead. You hurt an innocent lady. A fuckin' goddess.."

He was growling at the other man, finally the pain of the bullet settling in. You winced in pain and fell to the floor, grabbing your shoulder to try and stop some of the bleeding.

Tan paused hearing you, looking over and quickly dropping the man to run to your side. "Are you okay love..?" He asked, his expression softened when he looked at you, taking off his shirt to wrap around your shoulder to help stop the bleeding.

You couldn't help but stare as he took it off, your eyes moving from his abs to his eyes as he wrapped up your shoulder. So Lem was telling the truth. Tan really did love you. It was as clear as day to you now. The way he looked at you, how you were the most beautiful person alive. The way he spoke, how he immediately softened when he saw you. Everything he did showed his love for you.

"Hello? I asked if you were okay?" He repeated, waving a hand in front of your face. That seemed to snap you out of your trance, blinking a few times before you looked at him, smiling softly.

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug, not caring how much the wound hurt from this. "Th-Thank you, Tan.. I mean it.." You spoke softly, feeling tears well up in your eyes. Partly from the pain, partly because you were just so happy.

Tan was beyond confused, but hugged you back, smiling softly as he took in your sweet scent. "You don't need to thank me, love.. It's the least I can do.." He hummed, wanting this moment to last forever but, you eventually pulled away, looking into his eyes.

"Did.. Did you really mean what you said about me..? A-About me being a... a goddess..?" You asked, your voice shaking a bit. You hoped he'd say yes, hoping that he truly meant it so you could confess.

"Of course I did.. You're beautiful.. Stunning.. Fuck- Words can't des-"

You didn't let him finish, quickly pulling him into a kiss. He was surprised but quickly melted into it, kissing you back as his hands found their way into your hair, entangling with your soft locks.

By this point Ladybug had read the room and left while he still had his life, knowing that as soon as Tan could, he'd kill him.

The two of you never wanted to pull away, kissing for as long as your breaths would allow before having to pull away. "I-.. I really like you Tan.. Liked you for a while now.." You shyly admitted, panting softly as you tried to regain your breath. "I like you too.. So so much.." He hummed, smiling at you lovingly as he cupped your face.

"Fuckin' finally! I was worried I'd actually have to quit." Lemon's voice could be heard from the doorway making the both of you chuckle. "Jesus Lem.. You're alive?" Tan looked over at him, for the first time breaking eye contact with you. "Yeah. Someone drugged the water I drank. Did you not check my pulse?"

Tan looked away shyly, slightly embarrassed he jumped the gun. "To play devil's advocate, you do have a shit ton of blood on you Lem." You hummed, trying to defend Tan. Lemon just rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Let's just get off the train at the next stop, yeah?

All of you agreed and the train came to a stop not long after. All of you exited and no one was seriously harmed! Well, besides you. After a quick trip to the ER to get the bullet removed, and the wound sewn up, you all retreated back to your separate hotel rooms. Little would Lemon know (that's a like he totally knew), Tan would sneak out of their room to go into yours just to make sure you're okay. But what ended up happening instead was more than fine as well.

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Fifteen]

Viktor x Fem! Reader-----/Gothic AU/Haunted Sea/---5K----SFW*

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Synopsis:  Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both buildings are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: You see the world beyond the veil, though something is lurking beneath...

Tags: Strangers to Lovers | Ghosts | Slow Burn | Some Lore | Mentions of Blood* | Mentions of Death* | Sorry for the ending 😬 | There are surely typos but I caught a cold so go easy on me pls

Taglist: @lunar-monster @local-mr-frog @bittercyder @blissfulip @ihopeinevergetsoberr

Fifteen: Cold Embrace

There was a moment in the night when the world painted grey lead, almost transformed into a ghostly realm, blurry lines between the mist floating above the sea and the infinite sky. Barely the sketch of a world.

It was when the veil between worlds thinned enough for the spirits to crawl into ours, and for you to enter theirs.

If you so wished, of course. And you longed for it every night, thinking about what you would wish to say to the woman who gave up on life as soon as she created a little one. Why didn't she take you with her?

Why the sea refused, again and again, and again, to claim you. Too starving of revenge and the blood of this forgotten town, and yet, only those closer to you kept dying.

The image flashed, as quick as lightning. Cold sand pressed against your back, small pebbles trying to incrust inside your skin, the rotten stench of death as the sharp edge of a rusty knife pierced the surface at barely centimeters away from your cheek.

“If the water won’t claim you,” a voice said, face covered with thin, soaked blonde hair. The woman took the handle of the weapon with her broken fingers, nails black and long as she pulled the knife off the sand to raise it above her head. You gasped at the sight of half-eaten grey skin, barnacles, and moss growing on the hard edges of the bone. "Blood will. And how much blood I'm going to draw…"

The knife sang against the air, falling with mastery toward your heart.

By the time you tiptoed your way back to the beacon room, the rain had died down to a breeze; freezing wind sneaking its way through the boarded window. Such opposite of the warm embrace of your now not-so-fake husband—that if his gentle kisses were proof concrete enough.

Though tearing yourself away from the warm embrace of the couch and the sweater Viktor thrown over you was almost a herculean task, but you didn’t wish for him to cover your duty, though by now your rest had been disturbed by the recurrent nightmare, better said, the recurrent memory.

Your weeks as the keeper had turned you nocturnal, another spirit keeping watch by the cliff—a chill running down your spine when you realized you weren't that different from the other ghosts roaming the coast, wailing at the foot of the cliff.

Except today, it seemed. Just as everything seemed different with him around.

Viktor was posted by the uncovered section of the glass, his cane leaned against the wall, a figure so still you thought you were still dreaming, that he had become a new prop of your foolishness at imagining that last night had been real.

A mask melting into the disgusting face of the bloated woman. Another knife was hidden inside the handle of his cane.

"Viktor?" Your voice broke the stillness of the early morning, the fuzzy edges of the world becoming solid once his golden gaze broke between the foggy morning like a victorious sun.

Your steps were annoyingly noisy against the creaky wooden floor of the beacon room, the cold, salty air filtering through the boards as the roaring of the sea dwindled to a simple, constant growl.

“You should’ve woken me,” you said, eyeing the disarray on the table; with open journals and yellowish pages scattered everywhere, tiny, and hurried calligraphy strangely familiar. “Keeping watch isn’t your job.”

His cane tapped against the floor when he turned toward you, a sheepish smile on his face. "It's been a while since I got to see this view." Long, sinewy fingers traced the length of the boards, as if the view he was referring to had been now carved into the wood instead of appearing in the wild. "Accompany me. We need to retrieve some tools from the house today.”

Why he had been by the window all night? If certainly the seascape was stunning during dawn, by night everything was just a world of mist and darkness.

"Did you see her?" you muttered once out of the lighthouse tower; fingers still freezing over the door bolt before pulling out the lock. Part of you hoped you didn't have to say who—not only because of the uncertainty, but also the dread of voicing it, such action pushing the memory of it not like a dream coated in guilt and frenzy, but a real affliction.

Viktor called your name, metal shrieking with accumulated rust once he pulled the gate open. "There's a legend," he trod with caution, words stumbling against each other once the house's façade started looming on the horizon. "About her."

“Well, what is it?”

He smiled at your interest, opening the door of the house that always remained unlocked while he beckoned you inside a spotless foyer. Almost eclipsing the scene, you saw upon your return to the city. If it weren’t…

Everything could be done with step following another, and another; as easy as that, as you’ve done all your life—as you got near your uncle’s funeral.

But then, the pull.

You stood like an alien on the threshold, noticing the elongated shadows seeming to devour any trace of sunlight that could enter through the open door. The silence was broken only by the waves down the beach.

“Miss, we ought not to talk about it here, unless we wish to summon them,” Viktor said, leaning closer to you to whisper such words that left goosebump flesh to crawl up your arms. “That’s what all ghost stories say, does it not?”

No, it wasn’t a pull. It was a gaze.

Old and unmerciful and unwavering, coming from the empty corner down the first floor’s hall. There where only the amorph shadow of the dissected mermaid had been once.

Was it her? Was hers the cave you discovered yesterday? Was she—

"Then, when do we talk about what's happening in here?" you whispered, hoping your front of bravery would be enough for the house to stop staring at you with the feeling of inferiority blooming out of your chest. "I’m tired of thinking I’m out of my mind. I don’t want to run anymore. Because ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

Just like you pretended those muddy footsteps were a result of your vivid imagination. Barely daring to remember there here, where the horror had taken place—though you had to admit it hadn’t been the worst.

His eyes darkened, from sunny to burned honey. Viktor passed next to you, side-gazing the staircase up to the first set of stairs toward where his underground office was located. His fingers surrounded one of your wrists, pulling you away from the entrance and into the depths of the house.

His back and open coat brought you protection as he guided you toward the kitchen, covered from the gaze you were sure was still piercing his back.

“In open waters, where nobody else but ourselves can hear,” he whispered, pulling back in such a swift move you were almost convinced his words had been a delusion. “Alright. I'll bring the notebooks to my bedroom desk. Can you bring the books on the table down to my office?” He pointed toward the first-floor hallway. “I need to pack lightly for this excursion.” Viktor chuckled. “The boat isn’t that big, and now I’ll have company…”

Now was the cave, but before had been those damned footsteps, mocking outlines of a presence that shouldn't be there—and you weren't sure if you preferred it to be a simple joke from Viktor or an intruder from town.

Why had Viktor decided to make you company in the lighthouse? It went further than empathy, or even, the craving of being closer to each other when the whole world faded. But the starlight sphere hadn’t been built yet. And while shadows rested for their hauntings, you could wander freely.

You remembered the stagnant air filling your nose as you hoped your uncle to pass by after their break inside Viktor’s house, fearing the vivid memory would materialize into his ghost again.

Or whoever would be wearing his face this time.

 “I—I would prefer to go for the books on the second floor, so you won’t climb too many stairs,” you said, your face hot once you met Viktor’s attentive gaze, an eyebrow elegantly arched. “Not to be meddlesome, of course.”

Viktor nodded, a half-smirk pulling his lips. “If you say so." He hummed, taking some keys out of his pockets; between all the golden, the one to open the underground office was big and heavy, silver, and with a slight tint of green from rust. “I’ll see you by the office, then.”

His steps quickly disappeared, your curiosity peaking as you climbed the stairs, almost picturing the rainy night you had met him, so many weeks ago.

Perhaps you’d be more familiar with the house if this marriage were conventional—if this house were conventional, too, without charged silences and acute shadows looming around the corners.

Without muddy footsteps guiding the way toward Viktor’s room.

He didn’t have any servants employed on the daily, with dusty corners and spiderwebs growing from the small crevices between the wall lamps and the roof. Excepting the quiet cook who came once a week to deliver food, Viktor lived all alone.

Until you, perhaps.

You would never know how he could stand it, the endless, empty hallways, still corners as if waiting for something to break such consistency with a humanoid shadow suspended above the ground. Such a big house, so lonesome.

Many corners watching your every move, so many shadows lurking nearby. It was maddening, as if you were a prey expecting to be hunted at every turning corner.

And then, it was your shabby cabin, too small for five people and yet, just as solitary.

Cursed or not, the walls are always whispering, bleeding the time it has seeped into them when the wallpaper isn’t changed regularly. The dark spots of humidity, creaky floors, and shrieking doors.

This house was alive, just like a guardian for its secrets, and right now, you were an intruder.

Would there be a place where you weren’t one?

Viktor’s door was unlocked when you entered, the familiar, cold handle quickly turning. Inside, everything was untouched, as you would expect a hostel’s room to look. So… abandoned.

The morning sun painted the white walls light yellow, staining your vision that was now so used to the dim orangey hues from the oil lamps lined up along the hallway. His bed was kept, blankets tucked neatly under the pillows that you know smelled like him; old pages of books, coffee beans, and the marine breeze filtering through the window.

With careful strides, wishing not to disturb the quietness of the place that was cut only by your slow breaths.

There it was his desk, the pile of papers and notebooks with wrinkly edges covering the wooden surface. Absentminded, your fingers passed through the pages, observing ink stains seeping through the reverse of its surface, crossed-out words gone unreadable. Diagrams of different sea creatures signaling with arrows are parts you couldn't make sense of.

Except… these… some of these drawings were familiar, or illustrations you'd found in the tales' books your grandparents kept by the side of your cot. Mermaids—all kinds of creatures with human heads, arms, and torsos, yet infinite classes of lower half.

Click. You heard, the hairs in your nape raising once the door in front of his bedroom started creaking.

Wood wept as the darkness spilled into the hallway, acute shadows seeming to lurk closer. His notebooks crackled when you pressed them against your chest in a stupid attempt to soothe your frenetic heartbeat.

Curtains were drawn, windows boarded; the inside of the adjacent room looked like a dark maw. You wished to tear your gaze away from the void, but curiosity prickled your brain, wishing to guess which amorph figures you could peek from the shadows.

Which one was the cause of your horrors?

You got closer to the hallway—you didn’t have another way to walk toward the exit, taking steps backward steps in an attempt not to turn your back to the darkness.

From the poor illumination from the oil lamp next to the door, you observed the outlines of a four-poster bed, a thin veil covering the mattress to protect it from the dust that permeated the forgotten, locked-away room.

 It was then when your gaze flashed down, gaze focused on the large, solid mass of shadows sitting at the edge of the bed, half-body tucked inside the veil.

Your feet stumbled, almost tripping by the wrinkled edge of the carpet; knees converted into molten wax.

A trail of mud looked like drying blood inside the room, ending at the foot of the bed.

The sketch of a humanoid figure—the ghost bared its teeth in a lazy grin. Human teeth.

The air got stuck on its way out of your lips.

But no, you have pledged enough mercy that night at the cave, and you knew ghosts would be restless anyhow, as unmerciful as the heartbroken wails from the cliff.

You felt the heavy weight of the shell in the depths of your pocket, a somewhat comforting presence when your hands slid along the wallpaper wall, cold and rugged by time, to touch the level of the sconce.

Light filled the room like a yellowish afternoon, showing you a bedroom that was probably decorated by and for a young woman. With its tall closet and books collecting dust, discolored bedsheets covering what appeared to be a lounging couch posted by the window. A vanity whose mirror had been missed.

Covered with a soft-looking cotton blanket decorated with a knitted pattern of flowers laid the mattress, ruffles of lavender fabric covering the rest until it grazed slightly against the wooden floor. And yet despite all the details, no matter how hard your eyes tried to scan the surface, the bed remained empty.

Though a mark was half hidden beneath the ruffles, like a mocking gesture.

The outline of a footprint, still wet and muddy staining the fabric’s edge.

Newly made.

Swallowing a lump down your throat, which could be both panic and nausea, you held your breath while taking the door’s knob, cold and solid and grounding.

I won’t fear anymore. You thought, knuckles white from your forceful grasp. I won’t fear anymore.

Accommodating Viktor’s notebooks under your arm, you ran your finger to meet with the light’s flick, the movement more unconscious than you'd imagined as your finger simply ran down the button's surface to fill the room with shadows once again.

Instinct called you to look at the bed once again, which remained empty.

Yet still, while you closed the door with a slam, the hairs around your face moved by the breeze, accompanied by a distinctive human sigh.

It smelled like stagnant air, like the rotten stench of death.

When you tore your hand away from the knob, your fingers were stained with mud and traces of coagulated blood. An ominous mark, and an open challenge, perhaps.

It hadn’t been disgust. It wasn't a lack of bravery that made you dash down the stairs either, but the feeling that preceded closely behind after the sound dragged too long and with an impossible origin in this solitary hallway. Chills covered your skin with goosebumps, the heavy feeling of your nausea climbing up your empty stomach, the sick sensation of someone—something—watching you close.

Mid-way to the first landing, you started humming, a coping mechanism you developed since your uncles loved to tell you horror stories. To let your mind wander, filled with a long-forgotten song you tried to resurrect. Hum the same song in a loop until your brain tired itself out, forcing you to slumber.

This time, an echo answered your unconscious call for a duet once you stepped onto the ground floor, the sound floating along the wood, originating from under the door next to Viktor’s office.

“Viktor?” you muttered, though the voice wasn’t the same. It was a childish attempt to conceal the fear that this house enjoyed tied into your ankles and arms, like a puppet.

And right now, the house wanted you to play, prickling your curiosity enough to open the door. The locked door whose key remained inside the breast pocket of Viktor’s coat, the closed door that upon your intense gaze wasn’t locket at all, lock rusty and empty, yet not sealed.

Perhaps this one would also open unexpectedly if you hovered nearby long enough.

If you want to know, open this door, the house told you, making its walls loom closer, to trap you inside this moment when the sun hid behind a cloud, perhaps fearful of what your decision would be.

Open it. Open it. Open it.

You stood in front of it, torn between going down the known path, where Viktor’s door pooled light under the door, safe company, or following this one where the cold breeze came from. The door looked back at your indecision, impassive and old. All-knowing.

Open it. Open it. Open it. Don’t you want to know if you’re crazy? If you’re both crazy?

With your jaw clenched, you hugged Viktor’s notes closer to your chest, a sharp inhale as if you were about to dive underwater.

I know you won’t dare to open it, you coward little girl.

The iron was freezing to the touch; the slight creak between the floor and the door filtered cool air toward your legs, around your ankles like a lasso—which made you aware that this wasn’t a sealed room.

What was on the other side?

I know you won’t dare to open it, you coward little girl.

THUNK.

“Miss, what are you doing?” Viktor said when he saw you running down the steps of his office, hands pressed against the door as if a monster were trying to enter. “Are you alright?”

“Viktor,” you breathed, feeling your legs shake from the strain and the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. “Viktor, what is this?” you said, tumbling down the stairs and pushing the mermaid’s diagrams on top of the desk.

Viktor looked at you with wide eyes, some hairs prickling his forehead when he shook his head. “Pardon? Were you looking into my things?”

“Of course not,” your rebuttal was sharp and dry, humorless. “These are the notes you wanted to retrieve for the expedition. Why?”

He started by calling your name, but this wasn’t time to play with niceties. It wasn’t the first time you were haunted in this house—much less in this damned town; your old shell as a scared person had slowly been replaced by a harder, boldest one.

Viktor sighed, rubbing his right temple. “It’s… complicated,” he ventured. Words died in his mouth when he looked away in shame. "I don't think you'd believe me."

You extended your left hand, showing him the rest of the mud and blood starting to peel off. "If you believed me, why shouldn't I believe you?"

His eyes traveled toward your fingers extended toward him, his hand swiftly enveloping your stained digits with his own, dismissed the idea of caring about getting his hand dirty. You saw his expression shift; knitted eyebrows and a slightly clenched jaw, lips pressed on a line.

“Come with me,” Viktor said, standing from the desk and grabbing a valise that looked both full and heavy. “Let’s get out of this house.”

The afternoon was fading away when you helped Viktor push a fishing boat toward the shallow waters of the beach, almost not feeling the freezing weight of the water lapping at your ankles for the tall boots you decided to wear.

Your tummy was full of an extensive meal, arms burning from the effort of a whole day full of duties, feeling the rattling of the wooden boat scrapping the rocks in your bones.

“It’s ready,” Viktor grunted, ignoring the beads of sweat running down his forehead. “I’ll help you up first.” He extended his hand toward you, using it as leverage for you to step into the wobbling surface of the vessel. “There you go.” He used his upper body strength to sit against the edge of the boat, using your arms to rotate himself inside it, only putting down his legs over what would be his seat for the rest of the expedition.

The lighthouse waved you goodbye when you started paddling, wanting to keep the motor in case of emergency—besides, Viktor had said that the rain would come only after sundown.

"This is the fishing boat of Mr. Calis," you told him, passing your hands over the half-scrapped-down painting of its name Norina. It was, better put since Mr. Calis had died years ago.

“Yes. I bought it from his son when Mr. Calis moved with him to the city,” Viktor said. “It’s said to be the only fishing boat that didn’t suffer losses even during the fishing shortage years ago.”

You remembered, around ten years ago when your grandma told you that story while you promised you wouldn't repeat it.

It happened when she was still young, blessed with a reliable memory. Like all the other families from Piltover the Old, they must carry the familiar tradition of fishing as the only job people from this town could have—they were favored by the mermaids, or so the legends said.

And yet, all that terrible winter brought were merciless storms, destructive floods, and blobs of rotten fish washed ashore. All unconsumable, all unsellable.

It went for all winter, using the arrival of spring as an excuse to offer tribute to the sea, a custom you could still appreciate from the elders' survivors of the town leaving offerings at the foot of the cliff, washed away by the sea.

"People said he cut half the catch of each day and dumped it overboard in open waters," you hummed, just like your grandma did when she reached that part of the tale. "To feed the mermaids that helped him fill his nets."

“This town had always been tied to mermaids," Viktor said, enjoying the view of the lighthouse making itself smaller and smaller, a thin veil of fog starting to cover the sea as the sky turned dark blue. "Its designation as the largest, richest fishing zone all along this coast; it's downfall, and now even its remains are still tied to it."

“That’s why you’re interested in mermaids?”

"Yes," Viktor said, his body leaning backward and onwards with each forceful paddle, the tides growing impatient by the calling of the full moon that could barely peek down at you from between the thick clouds. "Many scientists still don't understand what phenomenon occurs in these waters. How there are so many flashing floodings, uneven patterns of raining seasons, and, well, this." Viktor signaled around you, the world becoming blurry and grey in the middle of the mist. "Look over there, where the sun dipped down."

With his cold hand, he guided your chin toward the west, where the continuous path of mist broke with a blue patch of sky.

“Is that…?” But it couldn’t be.

Viktor nodded. "The night sky. Nobody knows why only this part of the beach fills with fog and storms at night. There are dozens of papers theorizing about it, but alas, nothing is concrete yet."

“And do you think this is the product of mermaids?”

“There was a brutal hunting episode near this shore,” Viktor gestured to where the lighthouse was observing them like a gargantuan cyclops with its unwavering gaze, golden like its owner. “Folklore says that the fishermen killed mermaids once their revenues plummeted at the sudden shortage of fish—their pact with the mermaids already broken. But scientists say they killed large mammals instead, perhaps manatees. Such massacre would've created an unbalance in the ecosystem that still affects us today."

You paddled quicker once the night sky grazed you with its twinkling stars, a clean fabric of navy blue where the moon looked so big and full you could almost extend your hand and cup it, letting her tint you with its silver hues, to make you all moonlight. Perhaps that way you could float away from the dreary coast, always grisly and hopeless with its freezing rain that had seeped your bones with the same disillusion.

“Of course, that doesn’t explain the meteorological phenomena surrounding the town, either why there are people who refuse to leave it despite its conditions,” Viktor continued, stretching the sore muscles of his back once you broke over the unfoggy, calm open waters.

“Maybe they can’t,” you replied, your mind lost in the memories of your trip to the city.

Viktor gazed at you, seemingly thinking the same in the way he nodded, lips ajar as if trying to say something else.

“Perhaps they can’t,” he agreed, voice barely above a whisper. “His name was Gavin. Gavin Stell. He built the house—and many say, he haunts the house.”

You felt cold despite the layers of clothes you had wrapped yourself into, the marine breeze making you believe the ghost was still behind you, whispering things into your ear.

“A man covered in mud…”

Viktor nodded. "He died inside his house during the devastating first flooding. Thinking his house was high enough that nothing would happen to him, he boarded the windows and sealed the doors to prevent the water from entering; and yet, she still found him and claimed him and the house. They had been the highest tides ever recorded; around sixty feet tall and seventy feet in range—of course, many say folklore exaggerated them. There’s no way to know for sure.” Viktor took the anchor and let it sink overboard once you were all surrounded by inky waters. “His spirit is locked inside the house, wanting his revenge from the mermaids that made his most precious project go to waste.”

You bit your lip, tasting the copper stench of your blood. The words were too scary to let out. This is real. That night was real. “Then the woman on the beach is a mermaid, perhaps? The one he’s trying to take revenge on?”

 “No. Mermaids can’t be ghosts because they have no soul, no real body that remains after death.”

“But… the one in the museum—”

“It’s a fake. A wonder of mythical taxonomy, but it’s made up with human rests and other marine animals to match. It was discovered years after the flooding and after Gavin’s death. I suppose it was the last reason to abandon any hope to recover Piltover the Old’s once splendor.”

“That’s why you say you’re cursed?” you mumbled now that his attentive gaze was drawn away from yours, his fingers expertly aligning bottles to collect the bioluminescence algae and the water. “Because if so—and I know this may not help at all—but we’re all a bit cursed, too. But maybe together we can find a way to get out of the mist for good.” Shyly, you took the small tests he handed you, scribbling down what he instructed you to label them correctly and put them inside the box made of wood and leather.

Viktor tried to smile, observing the calm water that started to form foam with bioluminescent blue and green, ready to scoop part of it into his sterile bottle. "I've lost count of how many times I've tried, that I'm trying not to get my hopes high, Miss. The sea is unforgiven, and it seems that I still owe too much for her to let me go."

You stayed quiet for a moment after that, not knowing how to feel, or what to say. You felt it, too. The tug at the bottom of your heart that called to look out the window, even now, challenged your best senses to look directly down into the abyss. To watch and tell her, I’m here.

"Mermaids may have no soul, but where do you think all those people killed by the sea went?" Viktor's question surprised you, his profile bathed in moonlight while his eyes squinted in focus toward the coast that had been left behind. "Sometimes, I think that they're, perhaps, in the mist that surrounds the town at night."

That she had taken too much from you, to confront her; sinking into the green-blue waters and glaring into its unbounded limits.

I’m here. What more do you want from me? You thought, settling another sample of bioluminescence inside the chest and dipping your hand into the water to erase a blotch of ink from staining your sweater.

"But then, why do they haunt us?" you whispered, the ghost wearing your uncle's face appearing in your mind. Your eyes locked into the water to try erase such happening from your memory.

What more do you want to take to let me be free?

From the infinite black of the ocean's waters, you saw a glimpse of white move below the boat, pale and quick and giant like lightning.

The boat rippled, with Viktor almost lost balance while trying to catch his cane about to fall overboard.

“Vikt—" you started, looking at him with eyes wide with terror, your grasp on his shoulders forceful and your breathing so quick it was creating clouds of steam from the lower temperature creeping into the night. “There’s something under the boat…”

From under the boat, you saw the flash again, a large, massive eye peeking from under the ocean surface directly at you.

A scream bubbled up its way out your throat, drowned by the sudden movement of the water below swaying violently to the side, toppling the boat upside down.

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