#like there’s no hiding any little piece of yourself in your dreams and someone seeing all of it and loving you so intensely in return

[pbchocmint]

Imagine how dream would know all of hobs dreams and still fall in love with him. Pls and with how in love hob was and how he had probably not only had good dreams about dream but also nightmares about smth happening to him like imagine

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Hi! Could I request Vil, Malleus, Azul, Rook, and Deuce where they hear about their partner’s old like “dream boyfriend” and it’s the opposite of them? How would they react? (Sorry if you’ve done this before btw!)

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul’s not surprised someone like him wasn’t your dream type, but he still felt some type of way about it. He gives you practically anything you ask for, sometimes with more resistance, but still! He thinks he should at least have something in common with this so-called ‘dream’ partner of yours even if it was past you’s taste coming to mind. You think it’s cute that Azul pouts when he’s jealous, even moreso when he thinks he’s actually hiding his true thoughts from you.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce is admittedly discouraged. Was this a hint you wanted him to switch it up? It’s obvious he’s taking your words to heart as he asked more questions, like he was trying to line up all the pieces to transform himself into your dream partner. You begin listing outlandish traits that no human could ever achieve, teasing your crestfallen boyfriend. You informed him with a squeeze of his hand that the only person you picture yourself with now is him, smiling as he held his head a little higher.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus finds it incredibly amusing. While not jealous in the moment, if he saw someone who fit this dream boyfriend’s description sparks would fly. He does take the chance to ask why you chose him then, tone lightly teasing though you can see the sparkle of curiosity in his eyes. You don’t think he’s looking for a simple ego stroke, perhaps trying to evaluate the kind of boyfriend he is to see if he’s meeting his own standards.

Rook Hunt:

Rook greatly enjoyed getting to know you better, hungry for any knowledge that may help him learn how you think. The traits someone looks for in a partner can reveal a great deal, like perhaps they weren’t assertive so they wanted a bolder partner or their parents never showed proper affection so they grave someone who was openly affectionate with them. He used what he already knew about you to logically conclude where your dream partner traits had come from, but ultimately, you had chosen him. You were endlessly fascinating, always shaking things up for him, and he was glad he got to be this close to you for the rest of his days.

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil’s not bothered by it. He’s everyone’s type whether they realized it or not. Not to mention you were dating him now, which automatically gave him the number one place in your heart. People are constantly changing, including their personal tastes, so he remained unbothered by the description of your past dream partner as he was clearly your future. He is right, of course, his confidence not unfounded as you had proven time and again that you truly only had eyes for Vil.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (pt.68)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your time is running out. minute by minute, breath by breath, kiss by kiss.

Tags: Angst, Hurt (no comfort yet), illusions to past mental health issues and past domestic abuse, mentions of low-self-esteem, internalized shame and self-shaming behaviors, themes of abandonment, speeding, guns, violence,

W/c: 13.4k

A/N: ahhhhh so here we are! i've been dreaming of this chapter since the very beginning of the series! this is like...the ultimate chapter...thank you for giving me a little bit of extra time to sit with it! we've still got a bit to go! there is a little section near the end where the chapter will prompt you to click on a link to play kate bush 😂 if you feel like you'll be distracted by music in the background you don't need to push it- thats just the song that i always heard playing in my head whenever i heard that part playing.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Hobi is sitting on the edge of the nest sipping at his ice water when you come back into the nest room. Someone has drawn all of the heavy curtains over the windows and they pool on the floor at the rim of the room. The plastic pulled up too. The evidence folded and put away for later burning. Like a bad memory or a piece of clothing that doesn't fit right. Shoved in the back of the closet.

The rage and fear and panic are harder to put away. The conviction is not so easy to hide. You can’t put it down the same way that people file their taxes or their children's old scribbles.

You- like a child, have not been able to color between the lines. You- like a child, are messy.

You can’t stop yourself from walking over to him. Drawn to him where he sits nursing his injuries like a moth to a flame. You feel every heartbeat spent in his presence; every breath shared sticky like smoke in your lungs. Every second is savored and every second burns.

You want to ask him if he’s alright, but questions like that seem very pointless now.

Hobi’s not alright- but he will be. He will be okay forever if you do what you have to do. Now that you’ve decided it’s all you can think about. You rarely ever get to know that your last day with someone will be your last day, and now because you know- you look at him a little harder. A little longer.

You wonder what he’ll look like in 10 years and in 20. If he’ll get crow’s feet from smiling so much. If the salt water he loves so much will eventually grow into his features and make him look like something ancient.

You wonder if one day he'll get so many freckles that the tops of his shoulders will be permanently a shade deeper than the rest of his skin- Or if Seokjin’s sunscreen will spare him from the simple pleasure of looking like your favorite thing. Hoseok has always been one part sunshine one part everything else.

He looks pale right now. It hasn't been summer in months and you won't get to see him get all freckly and sun-kissed again.

Growing old is a privilege (you don’t want to grow old) and you’re reminded of that every time you look at his throat and see the bruises there (you wish you and Hobi could stay as you are- like this, in this house- both alive and healing- forever) but you can’t.

You can’t.

You touch his shoulder softly and his head jerks up, body going tense and then slack when he sees it's just you.

It’s quiet up here. The others are just downstairs and they’re making a lot of noise. Hoseok turns, setting his glass of water down on the floor, leaning into your hand in the same movement. It would be cute if he didn’t have black bruises crisscrossing his throat and blood in the whites of his eyes. In truth, every blink only convinces you that this is what you have to do. This is what you need to do.

You know that at any moment the pack is going to come looking for you. That they’ll all come and fill the room with their soothing noises and sweet concern. You're not too worried about finding the right time to slip away. Moonbyul’s given you 24 hours after all.

We didn’t get enough time, did we? I’d have liked more.

Hobi tries to speak and you shush him, he makes a frustrated hum of a noise. You sit down next to him when he tugs you, hand vicelike on your wrist. Your heart is beating really fast. You wonder if he can hear it or at least smell your distress. The whole house is a tangle of distressed scents; your rain, Yoongi’s ocean, Hoseok’s burnt caramel. burning burning burning. It disguises your scent. Hoseok can’t smell how you’re panicking.

You smile at him, and Hobi tries to speak again. unsuccessfully.

“Here your phone-” but Hoseok doesn’t reach for it, he doesn’t reach for anything but you. Pulling you closer to him. His thumb pressed to the pulse point of your wrist, where your skin becomes thin and sensitive. Pulling you until your thigh lines up against his.

The nest up here is the only place in the house that smells somewhat normal, still soaked with your sleepy muted scents from a few days ago (How long will it be until your scent fades from the house?) You take a deep shaky breath, trying to savor it. Hoseok bites his lower lip.

Hoseok starts on your thigh. His hand squeezes it once and then he starts to write. It’s slow going. He can only write one letter at a time but-

“D-O-N-T”

His eyes are positively boring into yours as your breath hitches and you start. “Hobi I-” he repeats it again, writing it out faster. You grab his hand squeezing it. But he pulls it out of your grasp.

“N-O”

You huff, frustrated and close to tears but stealing yourself not to show him your true feelings. How hard this is. You duck in low, kissing over one of the bruises on his neck. He jerks back, furrowing his eyebrows at you. And part of you is just begging him to let it go. You’re half sitting in his lap now all so that he can write out his distress on both your thighs.

“Alright- just stop.” You can hear the rest of the pack on the stairs. It’s getting late, they’ve done all of the cleaning they can manage for today. You can hear Yoongi on the stairway talking to Jin:

“Maybe we should just burn the railing, there’s definitely a bullet or two in it still.”

Jin’s reply is near hissed, utterly scandalized in the way that only Jin can sound. “It is mahogany Yoongi.”

Hobi writes on your thigh, a single tear trailing down his nose. He’s usually a little bit better at keeping himself together but the stress of the day wore him through. Polished all of his usually stubborn edges like the ocean polishes sea glass. He’s too tired to properly argue. Letter by letter as he goes.

“P-R-O-M-I-S-E M-E,” he writes across your thigh.

You have maybe a second before they’re upon you. You have to be convincing. Have to, or else Hobi might tell. You don’t think he’ll get in your way. You don’t want to think about what you’ll have to do if he does.

You dart forward, pressing your lips to his in a way that you don’t really feel, in a way that has him pushing you a little off of him. Trying to reassure him in the only way you know how.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying and he tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear. His fingertips skimming soft across your jaw and your lips. Pressing at the corner of your sad smile like he can peel the fake expression away from your face and have you tell the truth for once.

“I promise, okay? I promise.”

Hoseok is not convinced. He doesn’t believe you all the way. But the pack is up here before he has a chance to write out anything more. Yoongi appears in the doorway, smelling of soap and bleach, a bit of it turning the corner of his shirt yellow where it should be black. His eyes cautious but so loving it takes your breath away a little. He treads softly over to the two of you; like he's worried about spooking you.

The moment between you and Hobi passes when Yoongi's hand curls over the back of your neck and you tilt your face up at him. And he interprets the glassiness there as something else. something more sensitive and more like omegaspace than what it is. you falling through space and time, you dying and drowning infront of him.

He probably thinks Hoseok was just comforting you.

Yoongi’s hand settles softly on the ball of Hoseok’s shoulder too. an equally as tender touch. Long fingers splaying against his collar bones, cradling a bruise there forming. Asking softly, eyes all dark with the anguish and apology of it-

“Do you think either of you can stomach dinner?”

As always, you say you can hot because you want to, but because you know it will make him happy to see you eat. You might not get many more opportunities to make Yoongi happy- you should take this one and savor it.

Yoongi loses that vaguely wounded look in his eyes with every bite you lift to your mouth. His scent sublimating into something sweeter as the night darkens and quiets.

You can tell Hoseok is not convinced of your promises when he stays glued to your side through the whole of dinner. Almost stubborn with how he resists Yoongi’s prodding and Namjoon's. Changing out the cool dressings on his throat and shaking his head at Namjoon’s suggestion that he sleep propped up against the back wall of the nest, where it’s safest. Eyes tracking your movements as you get up and brush your teeth.

His focus remains solely on you, even when Jungkook carries Tae out of the bathroom and places her among the softest things in the nest. When Noodle squirms his way out from under the bed and tries to worm himself in between his legs. Nudging under his elbow with his pink nose.

He wraps himself around you as you get ready for bed. An arm slung protectively around your waist to pull you flush against his front where you couldn’t squirm away without him feeling it and waking up.

It feels like buying time even though you're too distracted to properly enjoy it- the way they try to cheer you up. Everything that they do to try and make things better feels far away like a photograph- a memory just out of reach- the colors a little off.

Jungkook needily wraps himself around Tae and croons soft reassurance into her ear about how pretty her hair looks, how soft her pajamas make her. And would she like some of her skincare routine? Jungkook will do it for her, will pat it across her cheeks, and won't drag it under her eyes to preserve the state of her wrinkles.

Tae answers all his requests with a simple shake of her head. Eyes still frighteningly blank, that 1000-yard stare that you've all seen on your faces at one point or another, that you see in the reflective surface of Namjoon's phone in the nest, discarded and not charged.

Tae's scent is something awful- none of her usual roses and all cinnamon. Does Tae smell more like her old self because that version of her was always afraid? Or was being a boy the first thing she hated and that's why she smells like boy tae now?

You hate it. You can tell the others hate it too. Yoongi drags her close to scent her silly. cheek and neck going all pink from how hard he scents her, and then scents you, and then goes back again.

Jungkook can do little more than cuddle Tae with Jimin, his big hands smooth down her thighs, while Jimin brushes her hair gently- careful not to let the bristles brush her scalp. He's learned how to take care of her over the last few months and he's the gentlest when it comes to detangling. Not like you- who's so used to ripping through your hair without thought.

Up and down their hands go as Jin fluffs the nest around you all. Making the edges of it higher, and more protective of the fragile pups at the center (like fluffy duvets could ever block bullets. In his dreams- Jin’s love is enough to keep you all safe).

Yoongi and Namjoon are only too happy to oblige him with the nest-making and the general fussing. But in between Jin’s request for a hairdryer and another cold cloth for your hands. You catch them watching the door like they half expect some new threat to appear.

Certain things are harder to ignore; like Yoongi sitting on the edge of the nest with a gun balanced across his thigh. Or the heavy thud of a fresh box of bullets, rattling in their acrylic case when Jimin sets them down on the floor. The red shotgun casings lined up in pretty lines- just like Tae’s lipsticks downstairs.

You ask for one of Hobi's sweatshirts and Yoongi puts the gun away to go and give it to you. Hoseok fingers the edge of your shirt stroking over the meat of your hip idly. But every inch of him is taught like he’s going to have to grab you and hold you down. You lace your hand with his and turn to give him a look.

Yoongi’s back with a sweatshirt but it’s Jin who demands to dress you- to guide your fragile and freshly wrapped hands through the holes. Jin pulls it down around your hips with a soft huff before he gets distracted looking at the bruises on your back and side. From getting thrown back into the wall and from an errant elbow. Every time you twist even a little bit- they ache.

A tub of soothing cream that the pack usually uses for the more wanted kind of bruises sits open on the edge of the nest.

The pack moves about in pairs, here and there. Going down to the ground floor in sets of two. Unwilling to let anyone out of sight. There are guns everywhere, Jimin must have let loose his hidden stash of them. A shotgun leans up against the bathroom door. A handgun with an extended stock is always close at hand. There's a larger plan lingering here. You hear it in Jin's soft reassurances. Said hushed over your heads.

"Witness protection isn't as bad as you think it is Yoongi-"

"It won't work- don't you think we know how it works? That won't be safe enough."

"We have at least a few hours, we don't need to make any decisions now."

Jungkook’s scared voice, “Are we really going to have the leave? The house and everything?” A pause. A look is shared between Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi. Jimin's eyes remain focused on Tae.

“Maybe bunny, we have to wait and see.”

“Do we have a carrying case for Noodle?”

“I think it’s in…” Yoongi trails off, but Namjoon answers for him.

“Yeah, it’s in the basement.”

They set about keeping watch for the night. those of you that aren't nursing wounds that is- mainly Jimin, Yoongi, and Namjoon- Guns remain at the ready and loaded. Jimin will go first, Yoongi second, and Namjoon last.

Jin tries but Namjoon nudges at his chest and growls in a way that has all of your ears perking up. The pack alpha’s commands can’t easily be ignored. Jungkook tries too to convince them too but even Hoseok shakes his head at him. No one is under any illusions of how fragile this peace is.

No one asks Namjoon to leave the Christmas lights on- but he doesn’t shut them off all the way- leaving just one string lit as a bit of a nightlight. None of you are quite brave enough to risk the darkness.

Hoseok stays close by, his hand clutching your wrist more often than not. Even when the pack settles in for sleep. He wraps his arm around your waist and settles in behind you, caging you in.

(Hoseok’s arms are not the prettiest cage you’ve ever been in but they are the cage you’ve liked the most. You think you’ll miss his arms and his hands. They’re so pretty and long, you lean down and kiss one where it’s gripping the nest and he makes a small noise in surprise that quickly gets swallowed by the hungry quiet.)

The quiet is very hungry, every brush of fabric against skin, every slight movement of the pack sets you a bit on edge. You think it will be hard to sleep- wound up as you are.

You don’t think you're even tired until your head hits the pillow and you have to struggle to stay awake. You want to stay up and listen to the sound of your pack, their soft and measured breathing, the sound of kisses shared above your head, the feel and safety of being in the nest. You want to commit the rhythm of them to memory.

Hoseok’s soft rasping breath on the nape of your neck evens out the more that his swelling goes down. It goes from hissing to more of a squeak as the night settles. Tae shakes through her aforementioned panic attack with all of you piled around her. You get your hand on her ankle at least.

Yoongi and Jimin’s shushing is the only punctuating sound in the half-light. Because what can you say besides sweet nothings when you know she has a perfectly valid reason to fear falling asleep?

You savor every little twitch of their trauma-worn bodies as you flit in and out of an uneasy sleep. Every slight sigh and hand on you rousing you. Jungkook, brushing his fingers through your hair. Hobi, pressed along your back like a second skin shifting and trying to tilt his neck to a more comfortable angle.

You get too hot with Hobi wrapped around you like that, eventually tugging at his sweatshirt that you wear and almost purring when kind gentle hands help detangle you from it with a soothing little shush sound so that you hardly have to wake. Yoongi, around midnight.

Yoongi’s thin but strong fingers rub a soothing touch along your jaw. Soothing away a small sad noise you make that has him curling around your front. The sound of Namjoon's low voice as he says something to your mate and then takes his place at the helm of the nest to stand guard.

“It’s okay pup, I’m here- I’m not going to let anything happen to you- not now- not ever.”

It’s unfortunate, but Namjoon can’t let Tae sleep for more than half an hour before checking her pupillary responses, making sure that her brain isn’t swelling. Concussions are no joke and Namjoon does not take chances with his prettiest alpha. He sends her back off to dreamland with a comforting scent mark and a soothing grumble. After the 5th hour when the risks turn nominal, he decides to just let her sleep.

But Hoseok doesn’t sleep, he can’t really. The pain keeps him awake and what with the way that his neck is injured he can’t find a comfortable position. He shifts and settles the whole night. Keeping you close with that arm around your waist every time you squirm so much as an inch away.

He’s restless until Namjoon gets up to get one of Jimin’s painkillers.

He’s resistant even then, half asleep still fighting. Trying to move away and shaking his head at Namjoon. Namjoon mistakes his unwillingness for simple fussiness and not for fear. If Hobi falls asleep it will be substantially easier to slip away- you watch from below as Namjoon props hobi up and pinches his jaw to make him open his mouth, encouraging the alpha to show his tongue with a prod of those gentle hands. His eyes are barely open, exhausted as he is.

“I know it hurts to swallow Hobi but you’ve got too.” Regardless of his shaken head, Namjoon insistently nudges his mouth with it. Soothing his gag with a stroke of his thumb down Hoseok’s Addams apple. A kiss to his lips for being good.

“This will help the swelling go down, you’ll be okay by morning.”

It’s minutes before they take effect. Slowly- Hoseok’s arm melts away from your stomach. His grip on you slackens from the drugs and his breath evens out. You say a quiet goodbye to him in your head and turn around to face him and kiss his forehead.

At least the last time you touch, it’s soft like that. At least the last time you touch him- it’s gentle.

Yoongi, Jimin, and Namjoon trade-off. A gun shared between the two of them. Perched on the edge of the nest. Eyes on the vacant stairway Infront of them. Listening for every creek and whisper met with a held breath and hand tightening around the gun. Waiting for the violence that you can all feel coming.

You won’t let it hit them; you won’t let it into this house again. Not while you’re still breathing.

When you're sure that Hobi is asleep you roll onto your back and stare up at the Christmas lights twinkling in the dark. You remember watching Jungkook hang them for you. You remember. You'll always try to remember; you promise yourself right then and there that you'll never let the memory slip away. No matter what happens.

You look over at Kookie, face so peaceful in sleep, a pillow hugged to his chest belly down in the nest, cheek squished close to the top of Yoongi's head on your other side. His back rising and falling.

Jungkook has always been a pretty omega. You reach over to him to stroke down the stiff bridge of his nose, to commit his face to memory. When you turn back to Hobi, you do the same, touching across the heart shape of his mouth, the subtle roundness in his cheeks everything. You look around at all of them- your pack, sleeping softly- sleeping safely. Namjoon's wide back, his shoulders that could hold the world up. Unaware that you're watching him.

You’ll remember all of it, every car ride, every trip to the beach. Every joke and jab. You’ll store each of the memories like a found thing in your pocket. A piece of seashell or sea glass.

You’ll take Jungkook’s laughter and store it- a memory to use when you need to remember that it’s okay to be young for a minute more. When you need to look after yourself you’ll remember how Jin did it and follow his example. And when you need to rest and be soft you'll remember yoongi. You’ll remember Tae like a tube of lipstick and see her every day in the color pink. And Jimin-

Jimin has a hard time sleeping. Even when Namjoon takes the last shift. He sleeps with one hand on a gun, spaced protectively in front of Tae. His bad arm unfolded from his sling. Putting his body between her and the staircase. Namjoon’s heart pulses dully with the knowledge of that when he glances back, just to check and make sure that Tae and Hobi are still breathing. You hide your open eyes from him when he turns, going extra still and feigning sleep.

Namjoon tamps down on his instincts; the last thing he wants is for his scent to go sour and possibly rouse them. But in the quiet, Namjoon's mind has too much room to fan out and overanalyze. Panic is a particularly alluring drug, his mind festers in it. Rolling around in bad ideas the way that Noodle would roll around in a puddle of catnip.

If he got the pack together, put you all in cars, and drove you far far away from here would that be enough to keep you all safe from harm? Or would that only be temporary? Is temporary safety worse when you know what you have to come back to? Or should he just try to talk to these people, barter with them something. Would money be enough? How much wouldn't Namjoon give? 

You are dreadfully similar to him. Only his planning stays in its infancy stage. 

It isn’t all silent. Noises punctuate the night here and there. Namjoon is so on edge that he all but snaps his teeth at the shadows. An alpha on alert.

Namjoon’s ears perk up at every car that dares to drive by your narrow street, the neighbor two houses to the left who leaves for work in the city at 4:05 every morning, right on time. Noodle and the sound of his scrabbly little paws on the stairs, zooming up and down them until Namjoon gets up to scruff him too. 

Your freaking cat does not like Namjoon on a normal day, he's only ever loved you and Hobi and tolerated Tae and Jungkook- condemning all the rest to hisses and claws, but Noodle settles with Namjoon's hand on the back of his neck. "See, that wasn't too hard was it?"

Noodle gives one last half-hearted hiss as Namjoon places him gently in the nest where he stays put after curled up around Tae’s head like a fluffy little hat. Purring and licking at her forehead. All but taunting Namjoon with his yellow eyes. Flinty and knowing in the darkness. Bushy tail flailing every time the alpha glances back.

You think you’re being quiet when you push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Untangling Hobi’s arm from around your waist and pulling yourself to the edge of the bed. He's out cold from the painkillers. Barely even stirring. 

Noodle stirs however, darting from the nest with a small murr sound as if to say, "see- she's awake so why can't I be?" Tail raised high as he prances to the doorway. 

You look striking in the half darkness, a pair of Yoongi’s green flannel pajama pants rolled up several times to fit properly around your hips. A thin white tank top that's almost falling down one shoulder. Namjoon’s heart pulses dully with the need to hold, the need to protect. He makes a soft noise in his throat and your head jerks in his direction.

You swallow, and your lips look dry, eyes glassy and innocent in their tilt when your mussed hair fluffs over your shoulder. Messy from where Hobi was nuzzling it in his sleep. 

“I was just getting a glass of water.”

Namjoon wordlessly holds his hand out to help you get out of the nest without teetering or disturbing the others. Noodle dashes back down the stairs with a soft meow. Tae sighs and re-settles, smacking her lips and Jimin’s arm tightens. Your mate turns face up in the nest, chest rising and falling, mouth opening like he can taste your scent on the air. 

Namjoon doesn't doubt he can, honed in on you and focused as he always is.

Namjoon doesn’t let go of your hand when your feet find the smooth floor. Instead, he checks the wounds on your hands and verifies that they’re clotting. The margins slotted together properly for minimal scarring (he'd redone the glue-suture after your shower with only gentle scolding). He presses a kiss to the bandages after they're re-fastened. Letting his lips linger there for a second.

Namjoon has always had big hands, warm and steadying as they cradle yours. Small and chapped and scarred.

Instead of continuing on downstairs, you linger for a second by Namjoon’s side. Eating up every breath he breathes, his scent, and the comfort of having him nearby. Something you know you won’t have forever. (Somehow- you know that this will be the last time that Namjoon holds you. You can wait one minute more. You can give him one more minute). He sets the gun to the side and pulls you between his legs.

“Joonie?” You ask.

Your pack alpha wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles forward, rubbing his spiky head across your midriff. Nose nudging the dimple of your belly button and the slight pudge there with a quiet happy growl.

Namjoon will never not be happy that he can see the evidence of the pack’s love on you. Will never not feel proud of you and how far you've come. He nuzzles, resisting the temptation to bite and nip with a breath let out through clenched teeth.

Namjoon feels your quiet laugh against his cheek. Your warm soft skin swelling with laughter. Namjoon’s face is blushing red when he pulls back to look at you in the darkness. Corralled in the safe circle of his arms, fingers digging into your hips and squeezing.

“What are you doing alpha?” 

“Just thinking- just-” Namjoon’s voice gets so much lower in the nighttime, it's a gravely growl. A sound that paints pictures of lightning and clouds hovering low like a blanket.

“When all of this is over, I want to go somewhere new.” Namjoon's hands tighten on your waist. fingers pressing to either side of your spine, thumbs sitting on the soft bones of your hips. “-With you. Just you. Just the two of us. Maybe.” Namjoon fights back a fresh blush at the confused cock of your head. “Maybe- like- a fancy Airbnb? Or something? Would that be fun? Would you like that?” 

You pause, humming. Indulging Namjoon in this as he holds you, fingers rubbing endlessly up and down the sensitive small of your back. Eyes wide and imploring like a child. 

You're only too happy to forget for a second and imagine. What would happen if you didn’t leave tonight? What would happen if you found some way out of this?

It’s easy to go further than just thinking about a simple weekend getaway. You Imagine far into the future; a day that you'll never see. A future with Namjoon and the pack. It hits you with such a profound heartache when you think it that you half expect to look down and see your white tank top speckled with blood. The ache so keen and visceral but- 

Namjoon would be a good father. 

He’d be kind and patient. He’d never snap. He’d never yell. For a moment that’s all you want to think about- not a stupid weekend but a lifetime. A family. A world where you’re never yelled at, where you don't have to be afraid, where nothing is hard, and even if it’s hard you do it together.

If you had pups, you know Namjoon would treat every skinned knee like it was surgery. Would never tell them to walk it off or say it wasn’t that bad. You know that he’d go through every tea party with gusto and stay up late to help them with their homework. That he’d struggle to say no but that you might never need to. It would be lovely- getting to give something small and innocent so much safety. It would be nice to have pups with Namjoon.

You can’t say you don’t want it, but you know in that moment that you won't get it. You'll never get to see Namjoon be a father- even if the pups aren't yours or are just his and Jin's. You’d love them all the same. What use is it to Imagine things that you’ll never get? What good are dreams like this but to tease you, just out of reach. 

Namjoon nuzzles into your stomach again. His nose drawing soft circles just under your belly button. 

You’d be a shit mother anyway. Too fragile. Too nervous. Too hurt. Too much of everything. You'd fuck them up just by being you. You'd fuck them up the same way you've fucked up this perfectly good pack. You've brought nothing but destruction upon them. The evidence of your wreckage is everywhere. The bullets in the ceiling, the blown apart door. Your hands and Hobi's throat. All of this is because of you. 

You snap back to the present, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You’re gnawing at your own leg to survive. All things that bite cannot resist it. What good does hope do at the end other than to hurt?

You can't resist asking Namjoon for more, curled around you like a protective barrier to keep out all the world's hurts (or to keep you in). 

“If we went? Where would we go? If we made it- What would it be like Joonie?”

Namjoon rests his chin on your belly button and looks up at you. Completely unaware of the longing tearing its way through you, of what you’re thinking about. Not just one trip or one year, but ten or twenty or thirty. 

“Maybe south, to see the cherry blossoms?”

“We couldn’t go, not without Tae- cuz of the pink, and Hobi- cuz of the flowers”

Namjoon nods, agreeing. “Yeah- she does really like anything that’s pink.” There is a Tae-shaped smile on his face, you can feel it stretching your lips too. But he shakes it off, head bowed before you. Eyes closed against the image. 

“Still, somewhere safe and quiet just for us, just for you and I to take a deep breath and-” Namjoon trails off, looking up at you. His eyes sparkle with the idea of it, all the little moments he’s picturing.

A private morning where he wakes up to just you. Where you hog his warm spot and his pillow in the chilly spring air. Your cold toes pressed to his shins with nothing to do but appreciate each other and take your loving slow and intentional. Your body and his body and all the space and laughter that you want in between. An idyllic picture of two young people quietly in love. Gently in it.

After almost losing all of it, he wants the chance to properly appreciate you one-on-one. The others too- but they’re asleep, and sleeping vessels cannot reply to Namjoon’s daydreams. You are the only one awake.

(In Namjoon's fantasy, he'll give each of his packmates a different trip. every one of them even if it's just the ones he's recently almost lost that have him thinking of these particular plans.

Hobi would want just a day trip. Namjoon knows the alpha doesn’t really like to be separated from the pack for all that long, a few hours sure. Maybe to some vintage stores that he’s been eyeing to the city or the botanical garden.

Seokjin he’d take somewhere grand and big and full of adventure, maybe to 6 Flags or something. Jin likes to be reminded that he’s allowed to be a kid again, that he doesn’t always have to look after everyone all the time. That he has Namjoon to lean on.

Tae, he’d take somewhere gilded just as she is, like teatime at the Ritz- or maybe abroad to the castle of Versailles. The hall of mirrors and a million pictures of Tae in pretty dresses, twirling. In Namjoon’s head- he watches her turn and flutter slowly like a top. Spinning and spinning).

But none of that is quite your style. You don't really crave outings or adrenaline or gilded things. Your wants are much more simple maybe- because you've always known how priceless quiet and peace is. Gentleness is all you've ever really wanted- not excitement or acclaim or ego.

“A little cabin somewhere in the mountains, a spot for just us. We wouldn’t even have to do anything, A staycation. A night or two.” As the world spins on, you are who Namjoon craves to be still with.

You swallow hard, lingering, still half leaning over him still. Letting him nose at your jaw and purr.

“That would be so nice Joonie."

You swallow, throat thick with something. You lean forward pressing a kiss- too brief, to his lips, Namjoon’s lips part and he breathes gently. You blink back the glassiness in your eye and hope that Namjoon dismisses it as the light from the moon streaming through one of the skylights. All white and black. Wrenching you through something that feels like film. You commit the feel of him and the sound of his voice to memory and then pull back.

“I really need to get a glass of water.”

Namjoon shifts to get up, to come with you, but you just laugh at him and push at his shoulder, he flops back onto the bed.

“I can go on my own Joonie.” He grumbles but stays put. Nosing at the goosebumps on your arms and leaning to retrieve Hobi’s sweatshirt from where you left it in the nest. It smells like sleeping pups and Jin. Milky and soft and safe. Namjoon’s body shivers happily when he sees you put it on.

You squirm out from between his legs. His palm stays wrapped around the tips of your fingers. They slide out of his a little, and then all the way.

“It’s not safe.” You heave a tired sigh, what he thinks is a tired sigh but is actually you trying your hardest not to cry. You lean over him to grab the gun from where it’s rested against the nesting barrier. Getting your phone while you’re at it and sliding it into the pocket of your sweatshirt.

“Is that better?” Namjoon grumbles but still lets you go. Sitting there on the edge of your nest and guarding the others. You look back at him from the top of the stairs and smile.

The house is quiet, with no creeks on the stairs and no winds blowing across the roof. No sound at all in the house beyond your quiet footsteps that Namjoon listens to as you go down the stairs.

Feeling every second of your distance like the sluggish beat of his heart, thump thump thump. Namjoon looks back to look at his pack. Their bodies curled and resting, so gentle in sleep. After a few minutes, there are footsteps on the stairs, small soft ones.

Thump.

“They’re so beautiful” Namjoon comments to you. Waiting for reply.

The silence gnashes its teeth, still hungry.

When Namjoon turns back, it’s not you standing at the top of the stairs- just Noodle with his tail raised high. His yellow eyes glow almost florescent in the darkness, meowing and hissing so loud it might wake the others.

“Noodle, quiet.” The cat just doesn’t quit, batting at Namjoon’s ankles, claws and all. “Noodle- hush.” He scoops up the fussy cat, but Namjoon’s only reward is some claws to his forearms and some more squirming.

Downstairs, he hears a sound that makes him pause. Instincts going from at peace to on edge.

Thump

The front door opens and closes softly with a soft click of the metal doorknob.

Thump

Namjoon goes to the top of the stairs, holding Noodle in his arms before the cat squirms and falls to the floor with a thud. “Pup?” he calls, hushed. You don’t respond. Only silence greets him, sated at last.

Thump, breath, thud.

Namjoon waits a moment, listening for a response that doesn't come before he goes down the stairs, Noodle nearly trips him on the way down, hissing and pacing back and forth in front of the door. The ground floor of the house is completely absent of you- absent of anyone friend or foe. The room is soaked in the blue darkness of morning that is not quite dawn. The white countertops are unassuming and the plates stay in their places.

Thud.

The couch still has its dark spot from where Jin cleaned it. The tangerines are safely in the bowl back on the counter shining like several small suns or planets. Everything is empty empty empty.

Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud

Namjoon checks the shoe rack. Your sneakers are missing, the same ones that match Hobi's and usually sit side by side with his. The spot where they should be empty.

Thud

Your wallet is missing from the bowl just inside the door.

Thud

Namjoon looks out onto the street and finds it empty.

Thud thud thud

Namjoon does not panic, Namjoon does not head out onto the street and chase you down- maybe he should have. He should have done any number of things. The sun is just barely rising turning the sky into that honey blue-green color and Namjoon just stands there and stares.

Namjoon is frozen. What kind of alpha is he- why kind of alpha freezes instead of fights or flights?

Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud

A few minutes pass and something must tip off the packmates upstairs- either the empty nest or the sound of Noodle yowling and quite literally trying to bite Yoongi's ear off.

The next thing Namjoon is aware of is Yoongi is on the stairs, looking pissed off, looking terrified. almost falling down them with the speed at which he descends.

He takes the stairs down two at a time, colliding with Namjoon at the bottom of them. He looks like a puffed-up cat, hair wild and eyes equally as glaring as Noodles when he shakes Namjoon, just a little. “Where is she? Namjoon? Where did she go? Where is my mate!?"

Is it Yoongi's scent- acrid and angry- that knocks him out of his stupor? Or is it the top of his ruffled head almost colliding with the bottom of Namjoon’s jaw when the beta shakes him again.

Namjoon stutters, panic making him inarticulate. So scared he repeats it twice. "I don't know- I don't know, I- she said she was just getting a glass of water. I swear-"

Yoongi's fists tangle in the front of Namjoon's shirt. He sounds sick with it. Voice twisting in pitch.

"You were supposed to keep an eye on her- you weren't supposed to let her out of your fucking sight.”

There are other people on the stairs, roused by the sound of raised voices. A lone light flicked on sends everyone into yellow chiaroscuro. Namjoon is still staring at the street, heart thundering quicker than your footsteps as you run. The streetlights wink out behind you as you go. Fleeing with the night and bowing under the weight of oncoming daylight. Running as fast as your body can carry you.

Could he catch up if he started running now?

It's Jungkook, his dark hair pushed up at the side where it rested against the nest, who asks, “What happened?What’s going on?”

Tae’s eyes dart between Yoongi and Namjoon, her pink silk dressing gown wrapped tight around her shoulders. “Where’s the pup?”

"Yeah Namjoon, where the fuck is my mate??" Yoongi grits his teeth, shaking Namjoon so hard it almost knocks him off his feet and sends him careening a little into the narrow dresser table that the pack keeps by the door for gloves and mittens and keys and wallets.

“I don’t know, I don’t-"

Jungkook and Tae have just spilled out from the stairs into the entryway when Yoongi’s hands hit his shoulders, pushing and then digging into Namjoon’s skin. He’s shaking so hard he can hardly speak.

“You were supposed to be watching her. You were supposed to make sure she was safe-��

“Yoongi- hey- Stop” Tae’s not shaking anymore when gets her hands on his shoulders pulling him away from namjoon where he simmers. Jin is still asleep upstairs. Hasn’t been roused by all the tense voices. Too tired from yesterday- from staying up to scrub blood with Yoongi.

Jungkook skitters to the door as Jimin and hobi descend the steps. nearly bouncing on his heels as he opens the front door letting in a gush of cold air. “What are we waiting for? lets go."

Yoongi's face crumples. “I don’t get it, where did she go- why would she have-”

Hoseok swallows but talks softly, the swelling’s gone down enough even though the bruises look a million times worst in the sunlight streaming through the window. It’s not even 6am yet. His soft hiss is gentle, but the pack pauses to hear it.

“A deal- I think she made a deal.”

It's the first words he’s been able to speak since the attack. Vocal cords straining with every word. Everyone quiets to listen to Hobi. Jimin’s got the shotgun in his hands. He leans it up against the doorway. The heavy thunk punctuates the shocked quiet- but hobi continues.

“When the man was here- she tried to barter our lives with hers." Everyone looks to Tae. And her eyes lower to the floor.

“She did say that but I didn’t think she was serious, I just thought-”

The conversation is a flurry, everyone talking over each other as conversation explodes. Yoongi's face twists from devastated to enraged. “Jesus fucking Christ- that stupid stupid-”

Jungkook clings to Jimin's t-shirt, “What are we going to do? Hyung- what should we-”

Jimin hasn't spoken a word yet, and softly draws Jungkook's hands away from his shirt. “Where would she even have even gone?"

“Did someone pick her up?” Hobi’s words seem to ring out, even though his voice is so fragile.

Namjoon shakes his head. “No- I was listening, I didn’t hear any car in the road- not for like the whole hour.”

“So, you were listening enough to hear the street but not to stop her from literally walking away from us, great. Good to know Namjoon.”

“Yoongi that is like- the opposite of helpful.”

“There's still the matter of where would she have gone. She didn't take a car-” Hoseok looks up in Tae’s direction. She sees the realization light across his face.

“Hobi?”

But Hoseok ignores her, lurching to the small cabinet by the front door; the pack’s drop-off points for their keys, their wallets and your fuzzy little purse from your first ever date with jimin and tae as well as a good slice of Tae’s collection of little red pocketbooks. They keep their things this way because Namjoon loses his keys at least once a month a nd having a communal spot always helps the general disorder of having 8 people live in one house.

Hoseok scrambles not for your wallet but for his.

He reaches for his wallet. Opening it and searching but-

The train ticket is gone.

Your train ticket- the one that you gave Hobi for safekeeping so many months ago is missing from where he usually keeps it in the last slot. Right next to that folded poem of Tae's and an old gift card. In its place is just a simple folded note, a new piece of paper that hasn’t been worn soft at the edges yet. Torn from the same pad of paper that Jin writes the grocery list on. Hoseok’s hands shake as they fish it out. 5 words that aren’t nearly enough.

I’m sorry, I love you.

You’d never told him that- that you loved him. Not after you’d had sex and he’d confessed. Not in the tangle of moments that followed with Jimin bloody and the pack breaking. You’d never spilled your heart to him that way. In the back of his head, he realizes that there just hadn’t been time.

This is the first time you’ve told Hoseok you love him and maybe the last. Hoseok’s heart beats quick. She loves me. Thump. She loves me. Thump. She loves-

Hoseok shoots off like a bullet out the open door, thundering across the porch slats. Too fast for the rest of the sleepy pack to properly anticipate and follow. Peering out after him, a little sluggish and a lot shocked. His socks skid and slip as he tries to arrest his momentum and almost falls as He doubles back for his shoes.

The rest of the pack stares down at him blankly as he tugs them on, sprawled there on the floor just outside the door. Hands shaking too much for bunny-eared loops. He doesn’t even bother to lace them before he’s lunging for his car keys in the bowl too. Nearly knocking over the table in his haste.

“The train station- she’s going to the train station.” He gasps.

The words you shared that night ring in his head, playing on repeat. Like a record that’s been scratched too many times. He’s replayed those moments too many times. He’s not sure if he remembers it correctly.

“Give me one chance, let me try to convince you to stay and if I can’t- then I’ll let you go, and I won’t tell Yoongi what train you took.”

The countless times you’d joked with him after that, the moment so light that Hoseok didn’t notice the weight behind them.

“You still got that train ticket?”

“Of course I do.”

Hoseok never thought that you’d use it. He thought that the ticket would have stayed frayed and pretty in his wallet until you framed it or something. Until you could look back on it and laugh and say things like “remember that night? Remember how it used to be before we loved each other?”

“No, I don’t, can you remind me?”

This is not that, this is not the future that Hoseok had imagined for the two of you. This abject terror. Suddenly Hoseok is unmoored, suddenly he is falling. Usually, you can see the end from a mile away. Is it worse if you lose the person you love because of circumstance or because they decide to leave on their own? Hoseok never thought you'd actually do it.

Hoseok thought your promise last night meant something. Later when he’s not so scared he’ll remember that he’s angry about that.

The rest of the pack explodes too. Jungkook doesn’t bother to put on his shoes- just heaves Hobi up by his shoulders and pushes him towards his car. Yoongi snatches both of their pairs from the floor and joins them. Cold feet on the small pea-gravel driveway. Jimin darts forward wrenching off his arm sling regardless of Namjoon’s protests.

“I’ll drive” Jimin doesn’t have to wrestle with Hoseok’s keys for long. Even with his hands numb Jimin is still the best driver. He won’t pull corners or care about hitting curbs. He reeves it with a roaring purr while the rest get in and looks at Tae in the rearview mirror. Standing on the porch looking breakable and not all there still. Her eyes on his have that same peculiar weight, the same weight that makes Jimin’s blood sing with purpose.

If there was ever someone that Tae needed, it was you. Not Jimin. He will haul you back from the edge of hell if he needs to, for her. because this is not the ending that you and tae deserve. Jimin will tear you from hell. Teeth and sin and all.

Jungkook has barely shut the door before Jimin peals out, reversing until the tires screech against the asphalt and leave dark lines in their wake. Tire tracks, strings of fate, shoelaces. He shoots off down the street and out of sight, knocking over a trash bin with a clang and leaving Tae and Namjoon back on the porch.

Hoseok knows the name of the station you were most likely to go to but not how to get to it. It's an 15 minute walk, maybe a 10 minute run and it's already been 8 since you left. Jimin points his car in the direction of the main road while he pulls it up on his cell phone.

With every sharp turn Yoongi and Jungkook slosh in the back seat and hit into each other. Some early morning commuter honks his horn at Jimin but he doesn’t even see them. The scenery flickering by and the asphalt melting away underneath the wheels of Hoseok’s red car. The small grey towns melt away, Break lights bleeding less than they should. The engine stutters and engages but no one cares about the uneven acceleration. Hoseok would total this car in a heartbeat if it meant getting you in time.

At the straightaway Jungkook stoops to slip his feet into his shoes, Yoongi holding his shoulder. The phone in between them slides on the leather seat, spitting out its electronic voice, overly cheerful.

"Re-routing!"

“Wait Minnie- go left.”

“Fuck!” Jimin makes the turn just barely, sparks skittering and burning out as he goes over one of those tiny reflective dividers. Hoseok curses every pothole for damaging their momentum and slowing them down.

“Are you sure? Are you sure that it’s this station that she'd go to?” Hoseok’s heart is thundering in his ears, beating furious and fast.

“Almost positive.” Yoongi holds onto the back of Hoseok’s chair to keep himself in place.

“We have to get to her before she gets to the city. Can’t you go any faster?” Jimin jerks the wheel around a flashy BMW. Almost hitting them with how close he gets. Jimin lets the speedometer answer Yoongi's question. Pushing 60 in a 35 and then 70.

Your note is crumpled tight in Hoseok's fist, a tiny bit of yellow paper that he unfolds and looks at before shoving deep within the confines of his jacket.

Yoongi is not looking at hoseok when he says his next sentence. Hoseok's not even thinking about his old pack, he's just thinking about the fact that you love him and he never got to hear you say it. Not when Yoongi pulls himself almost between his and Jimin’s seat and repeats the same to Jimin again, the same only different.

Thud.

“We have to get to her before Moonbyul does, if she gets to her- I don't know what I'll be able to do Minnie- even with the power that I have Moonbyul still has more-”

Hobi’s flinch is visceral, jerking like he's shocked.

He turns around to look at Yoongi as Jimin blows through a stop sign and then a red light. Jungkook winces and doesn’t say anything. Pushing Yoongi’s shoes across the seat. “Hyung- you should get ready to run.”

Hoseok and Yoongi look at each other. Hoseok's turned almost all the way around in his seat to stare at Yoongi- more specifically Yoongi’s mouth. He’s not sure if Jimin’s painkillers would make him hallucinate but that’s the only logical reason his brain can come up with after hearing that name- her name- come out of Yoongi’s mouth.

“What?"

Jimin's voice is deathly quiet. "Hoseok- turn the fuck around. If I get into an accident at this speed you will die if you're not facing forward to the airbag."

Hoseok turns back to face the road. Jimin grips the wheel so hard his knuckles are white. “Thank you.”

The sunlight is just cresting the tops of the trees. Dotting the scenery blue and yellow. Hoseok’s ears are ringing with her name.

Yoongi pulls himself closer to Hoseok, hands still gripping the headrest, the only thing that keeps him from bobbing and moving with the movement of the car. Eyes locked on Hoseok's face in the rearview mirror.

"I said something- I said something and you're having a thought."

"I fucking hope so-" Jungkook's quip goes unnoticed. Unnoticed through the volley of honking horns as the red car tares through the street. By some miracle, they haven’t passed a cop car yet.

Hoseok looks in the rearview mirror, at Yoongi’s face. Biting his lower lip. “It’s nothing just that name.”

Hoseok looks at Yoongi and all he can think about is how he'd never said- he'd never told Yoongi their names. Saying them or even thinking them reminds Hoseok too much of his own begging. What kind of alpha begs for an omega to hurt them- to stay?

Yoongi just about puts himself in the front seat of the car as Jimin breaks hard to navigate around a tractor-trailer. Riding on the shoulder, the rumble strips vibrating all of them hard and roaring just like Hoseok’s blood thundering through his ears.

“Moonbyul? Moon Byul-yi? You know it?”

Hoseok shivers, the reaction of his body route, unavoidable. Jarring. Trauma builds itself into your bones whether you like it or not. Triggers are not so much a part of you as they are a light switch that makes the worst parts of you turn on.

"Yeah- I do. It’s the name of my ex-pack omega.” Now it’s Jimin’s turn to be distracted, and he almost gets into an accident for his troubles. They’re silent for a second, Yoongi and Jimin look at each other.

“It could be the same name.”

Yoongi scrambles for his phone on the seat right as Jimin makes a turn and it goes flying. He finds it underneath Hoseok’s seat, hands slippery with sweat on it.

“Hang on, I think I have a picture of her somewhere.”

Yoongi scrolls all the way to the back in his phone. Switches to Instagram, going back and back and back through time, and then he's sticking it in Hoseok's face.

Seeing her face feels like Yoongi’s slapped him. Her face is on Yoongi's phone. Why is her face on Yoongi’s phone? Her hair is longer than it was when they dated, she must not have cut it since. But it's definitely her.

Hoseok feels like he's spinning, it's been so long since he's seen her face but it's definitely the one from his nightmares, the one he sees grinning and crooning false praises that have stuck to Hoseok's soul like glue. The face that he sees behind his eyes and sees in every criticizing comment only on his bad days. She's standing shoulder to shoulder with Yoongi, both of them in black suits along with a man that looks enough like Yoongi for him to guess that that's his brother, your ex-husband.

Your abuser and his and Yoongi in between them. Hoseok can only hear ringing in his ears, he knows he sounds accusatory when he snaps. "How the fuck do you know my ex-pack omega?"

“She’s my cousin. Are you sure that's her?”

Hoseok feels like he’s spinning. “Yeah, I'm sure.”

“I thought you said your old pack was all omega’s?” Yoongi knows Hoseok’s lore, knows it like he knows the back of his hand. He looks up, hair falling across his face. Hoseok frowns jabbing his finger at the phone.

“I did. She’s an omega.”

The dissonance hits him and Yoongi almost wants to disagree but then-

Hoseok watches the lightbulb go off, Yoongi’s eyes widening imperceptibly as he paws at the phone and Hoseok’s hand. The car sickness lurches in his stomach as he turns to look back at Yoongi, and the g force hits him as Jimin takes another turn Impossibly fast. The seatbelt across Hobi’s chest engages with a click, digging into his skin and the bruises on his neck with a painful jerk.

“Are you sure? Hoseok- you have to be sure.”

“I’m sure.”

This is all a game of leverage. A game of who knows what secret and what gets exchanged for whom. Yoongi spent most of last night wondering about Moonbyul's motivation, and now he knows why.

Hoseok is holding onto Yoongi’s phone, they’re hands gripping it together. “Is this who she’s going too? The one who tried to kill us? Is-” Hoseok has to swallow to get the words out right. “Is Moonbyul the one trying to take her?”

“Yes.”

Hoseok shivers, eyes darkening, scent spiraling wildly. His muscles trembling as he thinks about it. You and Moonbyul.

Yoongi pulls himself around Jimin’s headrest. Hand on his throat, digging into his scent gland. He doesn't have time to explain to them.

Only alphas can lead the family, only alphas can rule. If Moonbyul isn't one- that calls into question the legitimacy of her rule. The families would never stand to see an omega on the throne, she'd be ousted, probably killed for daring to lie. The families would tear her apart piece by piece and Yoongi would let them.

If Moonbyul is the person who hurt Hobi- and now she's going after you- that's two people that Yoongi loves that she's directly hurt. Yoongi is thinking all sorts of dangerous things. But they have to get to you first.

If Moonbyul isn't an alpha then Yoongi's just found his leverage and maybe the whole reason why the pack was targeted in the first place.

A packmate for a secret. Yoongi imagines the worst-case scenario; Don't tell and I won't hurt her. Don’t tell anyone and she lives.

How long had she stewed and festered- knowing that Hoseok was out there- knowing that he knew the secret that could lead to her undoing. Maybe she thought his knowing would never come back to bite her, and had intended on tying up the loose end later. Maybe she didn't know Hoseok had found his way into Yoongi's arms until after the old Don and Beta had died. She probably thought that they’d never put it together- at least not until it was too late.

Whatever her reasons, this has gone on long enough.

Yoongi opens his mouth, but Hoseok’s body is taught like a spring-loaded and ready to burst. His voice a near growl.

“Jimin, I need you to drive.”

~-~

Tae and Namjoon are left standing there on the porch. Namjoon left staring after them as they hurl away from the house. Running his hands through his hair hard. Thinking of what to do until-

Tae tugs on his sleeve, “Your phone- Joonie- you should call her.”

“Right- fuck-” Namjoon goes and gets it, and comes back to stand with Tae on the porch. “Come on- come on pick up.” Namjoon paces back and forth on the front porch, the snowmelt from the roof drips out an uneven rhythm onto the railing. the cold spray hitting his stress-warm skin.

Tae stands by the door. Frozen, a statue of Namjoon’s distress. Inside, Namjoon hears a voice. Jin coming down the stairs, probably roused by the sound of the car screeching out of the driveway and down the road.

“Tae? Where is everybody?”

“Pup’s being stupid. The others left to go get her before she’s like- really really stupid.”

Jin freezes in the doorway, fist rubbing his eye. He sounds smaller and younger than Namjoon’s ever heard him. “Am I having a bad dream?” namjoon's pacing stutters and then starts up again. Jin doesn't need him right now, Jin he can help later.

Tae takes Jin's hand and leads him to the outdoor furniture. The cushions have to be damp but they sit anyway. Tae pulls her knees under her and rests her cheek on Jin's shoulder. “That’s what I thought too at first.”

Namjoon almost sobs when he hears it- the click of the dial tone and a single breath. He can hear the thud of the train in the background, the hiss of pressure against the scratchy speaker.

“Pup? oh thank god, stay where you are- the others are-”

“Namjoon? Joonie stop- I didn’t pick up so that you could convince me to come back. I only picked up because I never said goodbye.”

Namjoon freezes, and he feels like the snowmelt from the roof has just dripped down his back. Growing frigid more with each word. If there was ever a question on if you’d gone willingly or been taken- it was answered with that.

“Pup, come home right now or I swear to god-”

“No! For once you’re going to listen!” You’ve only shouted at him a handful of times and he’s hardly ever heard you sound so serious.

"No- you can't-"

“Namjoon, The second you say anything to try and convince me to stay is the moment I hang up, so what is it gonna be?”

Namjoon goes silent and stops his pacing. Holding the phone so hard it feels like the plastic and metal might break.

Namjoon’s very being hinges on every syllable you say, Like the ocean hinges on the moon. Water tethered and kept from the shore by something as simple as gravity. Tae is right there. Tae is watching the driveway not saying anything with that same blank look Namjoon has seen on your face countless times.

All at once Namjoon is reminded of you in the summertime back when he first met you and trauma had you all quiet. Staring off into space in much the same way. Small and fragile and worth saving. You’ve always been that for him; worth saving.

Jin scrubs a hand across his face, clearing himself of the last little bits of sleep. He holds out his hand for the phone, but Namjoon doesn’t give it to him just paces right by him as he listens to you.

“I only picked up the phone because I have some things that I want to say to you.”

You sound more settled and less angry but just as resigned and convicted of what you're doing. Like no part of you doubts your choices. Namjoon wishes you sounded angry, that you sounded sad, but you don’t sound like any of those things.

“I'm not leaving because I think I don't deserve a life with you and the pack. I’m not leaving because I think that I’m not worth your love. I’m leaving because for the first time I know that I am.

“For the first time I understand why Yoongi left and why he didn’t come back until he knew it would be safe. Because when you love something the way that I love you, you’ll do anything to protect them. Can you really blame me Joonie? For doing what you might have done?”

You continue on like you’re not wrenching Namjoon’s heart clean from his chest. Like you’re not a hurricane on his very being- dark and thunderous tearing through him as impersonal as wind. Namjoon’s heart thuds and thuds and thuds.

“Before I leave you, I want you to know that if I loved you less- I might have stayed.”

Namjoon’s lungs ache, ache and sting and swell with words he can’t say, he can’t breathe. His mouth screwed into a soundless sob. He actually might be having a panic attack. He's never had one before- he's not sure if he knows what one feels like. If it's like this- if it's like this he can understand why people call them an attack.

It's frantic, like he's chewing off his own leg to get out of your words. The panic is so terrible. Namjoon hasn't been this scared since he was a child. At least Yoongi had the fucking decency not to make his leaving so visceral.

Namjoon is bent over, tears dripping down his nose, sagging almost to his knees. “Why are you doing this to us!? To me!”

Something jiggles the phone, something that makes your voice all warbly- Namjoon imagines you on the train in a window seat. Resting your cheek against the balmy glass while you talk to him. Staring out at the scenery racing by. Hurtling towards your future like a comet or maybe an asteroid (something more destructive- more appropriate for the wretchedness filling Namjoon’s lungs like tar, the desiccated bodies of the dreams he had for you and the plans he made with you in mind clogging his lungs and making it hard to breathe).

Who knows, maybe off between the trees and the road, you see a red car zooming, trying to keep pace with the train.

Namjoon’s heart feels like it’s skipping too many beats.

“Something Jin told me the other day got stuck in my head and I keep thinking about it, would you like to hear it?”

You take his silence for permission and Namjoon does not turn to look at Jin and Tae sitting on the outdoor furniture. They just sit there; they don't do anything. Namjoon wishes there was something they could do or something he could barter for your safe return but you already have all of him and all of him wasn't enough to make you stay.

“Jin showed me this little article the other day- a few weeks ago now. He can tell you it in more detail but basically, it was about these mice.”

Namjoon struggles to say something- unsure where you’re going with this but desperate to keep you on the line. At least until the others get to you. Drinking down your voice, the whisper of your breath, everything.

“They made like- two test groups, they wanted to measure like- willpower- or how long they would try to live before they gave up. It’s kinda dark I guess. I'm not a good judge of things like that you know.”

Your laugh is the prettiest and saddest thing that Namjoon’s ever heard. He wants to record it and save it for later like some hidden track and he never wants to hear it again.

“Anyways- they put the mice and a bucket of water and timed how long it took for them to stop swimming, to stop trying to live. They’d try for a little while but give up pretty quickly. Like- an hour. That’s how much will to live that they had: an hour’s worth of it.”

Namjoon breaks, shouting, “I don’t want to talk about mice I want to talk about getting you the fuck home!”

Namjoon can hear your smile in your voice, And no-no-no you won’t even let him fight- you won’t even let him snap at you and engage with it. Namjoon’s seen you sad, he’s seen you defeated. He’s seen you so hungry you could hardly hold your head up. But seeing you convicted of this punishment is worse than anything.

“Anyway- they just killed the first group for a baseline. But with the second group just before they died- just before they went underwater- They took them out of the water and dried them off.”

Your voice goes hushed at the end. The morning sunlight cuts across the top of the house yellow. The tree too- it’s early morning- Namjoon’s favorite time of day and he won’t be ever able to properly enjoy it again. Won’t ever be able to wake up at this time of day and not think about the morning you left.

“They let them rest and gave them some food.”

Namjoon feels like he’s about to have a heart attack, blood thumping and hitting against his ribcage. Bullying out the flowers and the butterflies in his stomach.

“Cuddled them a little.”

Namjoon stands at the doorway to the pack den. Hands so tight in their fists that they ache and ache. Namjoon’s hands have saved countless people’s lives before, and they’ve saved yours too- but right now they just hurt.

“And when they put them back in,”

Noodle meows dolefully from the door, swatting at Jin’s ankles and then purring around Tae’s. Namjoon’s knees are shaking.

“They lasted for a whole 12 hours longer. Because they thought they might be saved. Because they had some love to remember. They were able to last for a lot longer than they would have otherwise.”

His face is screwed something terrible with how hard he’s sobbing. How is it that just an hour ago you were safe in his arms, talking about getting away from here. Just an hour ago. It's still 5am a time zone away, if Namjoon got on a plane and flew there- would you still be safe? Is there any way to turn back time?

You only get to love people for as long as you get and not a second more. You get what you get and you don't get upset. Yoongi might have been your lifeblood, the air in your lungs and your reason for existing, but you’d still be that fragile creature close to drowning if it wasn’t for Namjoon.

“Namjoon?” You say his name once and then softer, a croon. “Joonie.”

He's sobbing too hard to see, “Don’t-”

“Thank you for drying me off.”

The phone clicks and disconnects.

Namjoon falls to the stairs, ass in a puddle but none of him cares. He remembers the first day he heard you speak, sitting on these stairs while he helped Yoongi fix the railing. Namjoon remembers the summer heat and feeling scared for you for the first time- because the railing felt so rickety and the last thing he wanted was for you or Jungkook or Hobi to fall. Namjoon is the one who is falling, hurtling towards destruction that stops and ends with his heart.

His hands hurt. He remembers laughing with the others and stealing sips of sweet tea. Nibbling on the sour lemons, sweaty and hot and dusty. His eyes feel like they’re going to fall out of his head with how hard he’s crying. He remembers that you’d poked his dimples and called them pretty, he remembers feeling tired after but fulfilled for it.

One scene in summer and the other in winter now. At the beginning of a relationship and now at the end. The stairs still creek, the wind still blows and Namjoon's hands are still sweaty.

Namjoon sobs loudly and it echos across the empty cul-de-sac gut-wrenching. People cry differently when they lose people they love. Namjoon has heard people cry like this after he’s told them bad news, no sign of brain activity. We did everything that we could. I'm so sorry. It sounds different now that it’s coming out of his own mouth.

He actually might pass out with how hard he’s breathing. Teeth dig into his lower lip so hard he tastes blood. He’s still holding the phone to his ear. “Pup- wait- I love you- you can’t do this to us- to me.” But you’ve already hung up on him.

The dial tone tears through him like a bullet. Namjoon should be bleeding, broken hearts don't hurt this much without blood. People don’t hurt this much without actual wounds.

Eventually, something touches his back, a soft furry creature that only makes Namjoon sob harder as Noodle bullies his way under Namjoon’s arm and licks at his fingertips. Before long there’s hands on him. Jin and Tae pull him up and onto the furniture. One hand in his hair and the other on his shoulder. Jin grabs his wrist. Circling it gently before he holds his hands and nudges them until they relax from their clenched fists.

Namjoon cries.

Together they watch the road and wait for the others to return.

~-~

(Hidden playlist ▶ Play track?)

“Shit!”

They miss the first train by just a few seconds. It screeches away from the platform when Jungkook gets out of the car. Standing there for a breath and watching it pull away. The metal thud screech of it drowns out Yoongi’s voice.

Jimin hits the wheel and growls before he revs the engine and turns, almost hitting a fire hydrant with how quick and jerky he backs up and accelerates. Leaning forward through the window to snap at Jungkook.

“Get back in the fucking car!”

Jungkook does, the door barely latching and almost swinging free as Jimin peels out of the parking lot. Slamming back shut when Jimin does a near 180 to accelerate back onto the main road.

“Sorry hyung,” Yoongi doesn’t need to reply- they all know that every second matters.

Jimin almost collides with a car stopped at the light before he drives on the shoulder, spinning around them. The train matches the road at this part of the tracks so it’s easy to follow it. They keep pace with it as Jimin pushes 70 miles an hour and then 80.

Jimin keeps the gas pedal well acquainted with the floor until they're going faster than the train. Weaving in and out of traffic back and forth, getting honked at and almost cut off several times. Leaving his packmates to grip to seats and their handles. Worried about getting thrown off but still- not wearing their seatbelts.

“We’re never going to make it! It’s too fast! We’re going to hit traffic soon!” The closer they get to the city the less likely it is that they'll be able to catch up to you. It's nearly early morning rush hour, another 30 minutes and these roads will be at a standstill.

“Hang on- let me see the map,” Hoseok watches Yoongi look at it.

“If we go to the next station, we won’t make it. But, if we try to go to the one after that and cut it off-” A look around the car says everyone agrees with Yoongi. Jimin steps on it, and there are a terrifying few minutes where Jimin’s driving skills honestly make them all count their prayers and promise things to gods that they’re already not fond of- but when they skitter and screech into the next station he hears it.

“The next inbound train will be arriving shortly, please collect your belongings. And remember-“

Hoseok is hot on the announcements heals. Sliding to get out of the car before it’s really stopped. “If we miss this one just go to the next station without us-”

“-if you see something say something.”

The train is coming- Hoseok can see the lights about a 100 feet down the tracks and it's moving fast. Yoongi almost makes to get out but Hoseok just shoves him back inside. Jungkook gets out of the car too, bolting in the direction of the stairs. “Hoseok-”

“Yoongi- Just go!”

There are maybe three flights of stairs up, then 50 feet across the tracks, and then the same amount of steps down. He and Jungkook book it up them. Making every second count. Hurtling through time and air. Ignoring the sore and tired pulse of their muscles. They’re clearing the top step and the train is below them. A silver bullet careening and destined to do damage but slowing down.

They bolt across the landing past the ticket kiosk and through the push doors. The train is stopping with a hiss of breaks and a screech of metal. A release of pressurized air that billows up to them warm carrying with it the smell of tar and city.

Hoseok’s lungs are burning. Jungkook is usually faster by just a little bit and would be on any ordinary day. They might be roughly the same height but Hoseok doesn't do cardio nearly as often as Jungkook does. Jungkook's the one who runs every day, who does cardio like it's sleeping and marathons like they're mid-afternoon naps. Who works out and hones his body to a lethal edge just because he can.

But he doesn’t run like Hoseok does.

Hoseok runs like his life depends on it- the same way you would run if he was walking into Geumjae’s arms. You’d never let Geumjae touch even a hair on Hoseok’s head and if- if Moonbyul is who you’re going to- then there is more at stake than just your phsyical safety, too much at stake for Hoseok to be held back by his body.

Hoseok thinks of the tiramisu. Of walking with you on the beach. Of making your nightime stacks just the way you like it. Of holding you that one time you almost fell into the water. Telling you that you had to be careful. Hoseok remembers driving out in his car, tugging your seatbelt to make sure it fit snug. Standing with you side by side in the flower refrigerators at work and the feeling the first time you’d rubbed your scent gland to his. Every playlist of his with your name on it, every song that you ever shared. All of that- she’s going to destroy all of that if Hoseok doesn’t get to you in time.

He remembers how small she made him feel. How small you were when he first saw you. He won’t let you get that way again. Hoseok won’t let you disappear.

Jungkook is the one who would win this race on any other day, where the stakes any different, but just this once Hoseok is faster. Hurling himself over the concrete as fast as his body will take him. Hoseok cuts through the air like wind.

They run, feet thumping. Bodies thudding, hearts and lungs delivering oxygen to their needy muscles. Beat-up sneakers gripping the concrete. Down and down the stairs, plummeting. Almost tripping and falling on the slippery concrete steps. The doors start to close just as they round the corner.

By some miracle of blood and sweat, Hobi's the one who overtakes Jungkook. The doors are closing and the train's metal shell is beginning to hum and vibrate as it makes to pull away from the tracks.

In a last-ditch effort, Hoseok throws himself in the direction of the closing doors.

~-~

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~-~

Do i think that hobi could have actually warned the pack what she was planning to do? Yes. Do I also think that he thought he had more time to warn them and really wanted to sleep off his near death experience? also yes. Namjoon giving him drugs obviously didn't help. i honestly don't think he was thinking clearly.

this is one of those chapters where everything could have gone differently if they'd just been given a little bit more- but i digress- we all know life isn't so neat and tidy.

I can't not write thinking about the angsty alternative ending for bily- but you guys should know the namjoon/m/c scene...if things had gone poorly in this chapter- this would have been the last time they spoke or touched each other for 3 years- for those who are wondering about the alternative ending- i will NOT be posting any of it on AO3. Only on tumblr through asks! i'll try to tag the super triggering stuff but yeah.

when i think of namjoon and the m/c and their relationship- i think that what they want most for each other is to just see the other old and happy like- that becomes the foundation for their relationship. thats why it's namjoon who she thanks. it also doesn't escape me that yoongi is not in this chapter very much- this is intentional. just wait for next chapter and his anger! i swear its so fucking hot my god i really wanted them to fuck in the next chapter but i just don't think it's going to happen.

the og version of this chapter called for jimin parking hobi's car on the tracks and literally letting the train hit it- not derail- but just hit it. just to get it to stop for the m/c however i figured that was going a bit too far.

Me writing any part with jimin in it- "what if i added a bit of religious trauma to it?"

the line where namjoon talks about his hands hurting is like- directly related to me, because my hands didn't hurt all the time before i started writing bily but now my Knuckles hurt almost every morning. After writing for more than an hour they hurt. i guess when you love something enough it hurts you lol i don't mind.

the "you want a lifetime with them" lines are mostly a callback to like...grey's anatomy. namjoon's charecter is LOOOSELY based on mcdreamy of course the whole...neurosurgeon thing and i am 3 seasons into a re-watch so~ you will have to tollerate that cringeworthy refrence~

i've always wanted to structure a chapter around the thud and thump of a heart and yeah!! i think did a few back but i wanted to do it again~

i don't think i was very subtle with the hoseok train station and the train ticket parts of the story like- i think i forshadowed pretty heavily that it was eventually going to be used but! i hope you liked the big reveal.

how did you guys like the cliffhanger? should i spoil it for you when i've always said that bily would get a happy ending????? i mean...come on... we all know hoseok's gonna be fast enough right?

[mypoisonedvine]

𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 | laszlo kreizler x reader

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 | being a traditional, well-behaved woman, you saved yourself for marriage. but the things your new husband has planned for you are... less than traditional, and might just show how poorly behaved you can be.

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 | over 9k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | SMUT (18+ only!!), virginity loss, age gap (unspecific; laszlo is in his 40s, reader is probably 20-25), multiple orgasms/overstimulation, fingering, oral f receiving, squirting, shy/innocent reader, religious reader (but nothing tooo shame-y or anything), some innocence kink, a hint of medical kink?, slightly pervy laszlo?!?! (moreso he's just a wee bit of a weirdo and says some cringe stuff but like. that's just his vibe sorry)

Laszlo was such an impossible paradox of a man.  Especially compared to the sort of man you always thought you’d marry— what you’d been raised for, even.

An accomplished doctor, a successful and wealthy man of high social standing— a kind, sensitive, intelligent, and patient partner who made you feel beautiful and special and, for lack of a better word, fancy.  That part was exactly as you’d always imagined for yourself, though you had never really believed you could find someone so wonderful.

And then there was the other half of him, the pieces that even in your wildest dreams you would’ve never thought would make up your future husband.  First of all, he was quite a bit older than you.  Even your parents, who had always preferred for you to marry someone already established (as they put it) rather than your own age, were a little concerned that he was in his mid-forties, and only a year younger than your father.  Of course, that was nothing compared to their offense at his profession, and the subsequent open-mindedness he had towards people your parents would rather pretend didn’t exist.  Then again, Laszlo himself having his disability made him the sort of person they would rather pretend didn’t exist, though he’d managed to hide it relatively well.

Maybe they could’ve forgiven any of that.  It was the atheism that put the final nail in the coffin, unfortunately… and someone as brash and unapologetic as Laszlo had no interest in hiding his beliefs to appease your parents.  He hadn’t brought it up, of course, or protested to the crucifixes and cross-stitched scriptures on the walls; but when they’d asked if he was Catholic or Protestant, he told them directly that he was a man of science and didn’t entertain any metaphysical notions or, as he’d so thoughtfully put it, fantasies.

They instantly forbade the courtship and warned you never to see him again.  And maybe that was when he surprised you most— he was so romantic, so… dashing.  He took a carriage to your home and literally threw pebbles at your window, daring you to climb down the lattice and join him for a midnight adventure.  It was then he suggested that you marry him anyways— he had more than enough to take care of you after a disownment from your parents.  He promised to give you anything you wanted, to treat you perfectly, to spend every day trying to keep you as happy as you made him without even trying.

There it was again, the contradictory enigma of Laszlo Kreizler.  A serious, even stern man, proposing to you like a lovestruck teenager.  He had eschewed fantasies a few evenings ago only to turn around and ask you to jump headfirst into a fairytale.

You said yes, though.  You really didn’t think twice about it— you knew he would be good to you.  And you knew you’d never loved someone like you’d loved him before.

You wanted to run away right then and there, but he told you to go home for a few more days, to gather your things— he would send for them while your parents were out, and you could move in with him as soon as you were ready.

When you did move in, though, he seemed a little surprised that you asked for your things to be moved to a spare bedroom.

“Is everything alright?” he asked you softly, stepping closer to you as you crossed your arms over yourself nervously; you waited until you were sure Cyrus was out of earshot, carrying your bags away, before you answered.

“Yes,” you replied quietly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s understandable if you’re feeling conflicted now,” Laszlo assured.  “Having just left your parents, and not knowing if you’ll see them again—”

“It’s not that,” you promised.  “Well— of course, I feel something about that, but I’m happy to be here with you.  That’s not my issue at all.”

“Then what is?” he pressed.  “I hope you feel that you can tell me.”

You sighed as he reached up to brush your cheek; his touch always soothed you, though it felt a bit different here, in his home.  Your new home.  “I just… wouldn’t feel right about being in your room, until we’re married.”

He nodded.  “Of course.  I shouldn’t have presumed.”

You smiled a little, though it was more out of nervousness than anything.  “I… I wondered if you thought my parents were the only reason that we never— that nothing had—”

“Shh,” he soothed, pushing your hair back from your face until you looked up at him.  “I don’t expect anything from you now.  Well, only that you do whatever you like to make yourself feel at home here.”

“And what… what will you expect from me once I am your wife, Dr. Kreizler?” 

Though you were a little afraid to, you met his gaze; his brown eyes seemed deeper than ever, and you were powerless to look away from them.  “What do you think is right to give me, when you are my wife?”

You sighed a little, feeling his hand on your cheek move carefully down to your neck, his gentle fingers brushing along the smallest part of your collarbone exposed by your dress.  Words escaped you; you wanted him to know that just because you wanted to wait for him didn’t mean you didn’t want him.  Even before, even when you first met him, your mind had supplied you with thoughts that sent you straight to the confession booth.

You wanted to be one with him in every way you could think of… you just needed some to come before others, to feel right with your own beliefs.  Even if you loved an atheist, and felt surprisingly little guilt for it, you were still religious yourself and wanted to honor God’s intention for marriage.  

Didn’t mean you couldn’t yearn for your soon-to-be husband, right?  It certainly didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the full benefits of physical intimacy when the time came.

But obviously, you were far from brave enough to say all that.  Instead, you found your hands wandering to his chest, following the pattern of his suit coat up to his shoulders, biting your lip without even realizing it.  He simply continued to watch you, and you got the feeling that he understood you better than you could explain it yourself.  One of the bonuses of being loved by an expert on the human mind, perhaps.

You were almost in a trance, not noticing how long you were spending just gently touching and holding him in this simple way— until you looked up and met his gaze again, and felt a little weak.  “Can we marry soon?” you asked softly, almost under your breath.  You hoped he wouldn’t tease you, you weren’t secure enough for him to mock your obvious eagerness, to call attention to your desire for him.  Thankfully, he stayed perfectly serious, because he was just as affected as you were.

“As soon as you like,” he replied earnestly.

It was probably for the best that Cyrus walked in to the parlor at that moment, and you instinctively pulled back from Laszlo, crossing your arms again.  “Your bags are in the downstairs bedroom, madam,” he informed you, “down the hallway under the stairs.”

You nodded at him as Laszlo responded, “Thank you, Cyrus.  That will be all.”

He left, and you looked at your fiance again, feeling a bit silly for what he’d seen in you a moment before.  But he smiled at you, and you figured he’d be the last person to judge you for any of that.  “I’ll give you a little time to unpack and freshen up, if you like,” he offered.  “I hope you’ll join me for dinner at seven this evening.  I believe we’ll be having quail.”

“Of course— thank you,” you smiled, watching him begin to turn to depart.  But for a second, he hesitated— like he didn’t want to leave you— and you prayed he wouldn’t kiss you.  It’s not that you didn’t want him to… you wanted him to more than anything.  He’d only kissed you once before, at the end of a particularly exhilarating night out together, and you hadn’t stopped thinking about it for a moment since.

So no, it wasn’t that you didn’t want him to kiss you.  It was only that, if he did, you knew you’d have trouble letting it be just a kiss.

Therefore, you were just as relieved as you were disappointed when he departed without incident.

///

A few days later, you eloped.  You hadn’t felt much urge to have a ‘proper’ wedding when no one you knew approved of the marriage anyway— they were all too deep in your parents’ pocket, unfortunately.  And even if anyone cared enough to come, Laszlo refused to be wed in a church (you thought maybe he would bend on it if you really begged, he was overall quite accommodating to you, but it wasn’t worth your trouble) and so it would’ve just been another scandal.  

Truly, you were just as happy this way— it was the happiest day of your life, really.  You left the courthouse as Mrs. Kreizler, wearing a stunning silver band he’d had engraved with your new initials and flowering vines all around in a swirling, whimsical pattern.  His band was simpler, but you loved it even more— just because it was his, and seeing him wearing it made your heart skip all day.

Anticipation for your wedding night only grew with every passing moment.  Laszlo himself was in the bathroom with the door shut— you heard the sink running, the various sounds of him preparing for bed.  You were just trying to get your heart to slow down, trying not to have any specific goals or expectations for the evening.  Today had already been perfect.

But, of course, it was hard not to imagine what was next for the two of you— your things had already been moved into his room.  A vanity had been placed in it as well, a wedding gift from Sara Howard (a friend of Laszlo’s you had become acquainted with during this whirlwind romance), and you were using it now as you prepared yourself for bed.  You were already in your nightgown, having changed after Laszlo left the room (not that you had to, but it felt more natural that way), and you were carefully unpinning your hair from its meticulous style.

As you concluded the final steps of your evening routine, you saw the bathroom door open behind you in your reflection; your husband emerged, wearing an embroidered silk robe that offered a view of a sliver of his chest— not very much, but more than you’d ever seen.  You didn’t notice the way your thighs pressed against each other more tightly; he approached you slowly, and you eventually turned to look at him directly.  With you still sitting on the vanity’s padded stool, he towered over you when he stood close… and as you lifted your head to look up at him, his hand brushed softly along your jaw.  You tilted into his touch just a bit, smiling at him while your heart fluttered.

“You’re so beautiful, mein Schatz,” he whispered, and you felt a little giddy when he talked like that— he’d only ever indulged you in his German after having a few drinks, so this instance caught you off-guard in the best way.  Not to mention he’d called you Schatz before— treasure, apparently, and a common term of endearment— but he’d never tagged it with mein before.  And you were his, truly.  You were glad he’d waited to say it until it was actually true (even if, in a certain sense, it was already true before).

He motioned, rather subtly, for you to stand up.  It seemed simple enough, but you felt a little shaky as you did it— a nervous excitement, like the kind you would feel before a piano recital or debutante ball.  Except those were all public engagements, and this was as private as anything could be.

Touching your face again, he wove his fingers back around your neck, his thumb cradling your jaw right in front of your ear.  And he kissed you— just like that, quick at first but then slowing down as you both sighed a bit.

You admired how easily he’d done it, and thank god for it, because you would’ve spent quite a while working up the courage.  This was different from the night you’d kissed him after a few weeks of seeing each other— it was very different from the kiss you’d shared at the courthouse earlier that day.  It would’ve made sense if there was a sense of neediness to it, as if he were making up for lost time or relieving all the anticipation for this night.  But really, it was all rather relaxed, at least on his part.  Like he had all the time in the world: which, you know, he did.

You, on the other hand… you were feeling a bit more out of your element.  Not that you weren’t enjoying this new one so far, it was just a little unfamiliar.

His hand floated lower and traced down your back— delicately, with the tips of his fingers brushing your skin through the thin fabric until chills started to run over you.  You gasped a little into the kiss, and put your hands on the patterned lapels of his robe; you didn’t actually push him away, but he pulled back as if you had, examining your face carefully for a moment.

You hadn’t needed him to stop, but you were a little glad he did: just a moment’s break from it all before it became overwhelming.  His fingers still traced gentle shapes on your lower back through the nightgown, and you found your gaze drifting to his chest, to your hands resting on it— and your own fingertips ventured into the exposed piece of his chest.  His skin was paler here, with a reddish-blondish patch of hair just starting to be visible.  You touched it, taking a quick and shaky breath, and wondered why something inside you tightened as you pet him here.  He was so… masculine.  His looks weren’t sweet and boyish, no: he was broad and strong (he would deny that one if you said it, but to you he was) and sharp around the edges, and it was something you never expected to excite you so much.

But you loved that you could still feel a bit of friction from his beard after he’d kissed you.  You loved the subtle scent of his cologne, how sturdy he felt under your touch.

Your hands drifted up to his face, fingers brushing through his hair slowly, and he smiled at you.  His hair was just a bit long for what was typical of men these days, and you enjoyed combing through the dark brown locks and noticing the little golden highlights in the dimmed light of the room.

The hand on your hip pulled you closer, pressing your body against his, and you tried your best to relax into the warm strength of his form while your heart kept racing.

When he kissed you again, he moved in slowly, watching your face before his own eventually met with it, and you fluttered your eyes shut as his lips gently pressed to yours.  This time, you found yourself leaning in for more, kissing him back with more passion; you let out a little dampened moan when his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, taking the next opportunity to gently move further into your mouth.  

He broke away all too soon, embracing you even tighter, pressing his cheek to yours.  And when you, in turn, wrapped your arms around him and pressed yourself against him everywhere you could… you felt it.

Even if you had very little knowledge about this sort of thing, you understood what that hard, curved shape was, pressed just above where your hip met your stomach.  You knew what it was, and your body did too— heat pooled at your core, every touch awakening you even more.

“Oh,” you sighed shakily, holding tighter onto him to just have something to hold onto.

“It's alright,” he whispered, soft words floating on his breath which tickled under your ear.  “It's alright, my darling, I won't hurt you.”

You hummed softly in return, nodding as his lips brushed over your cheek, then moved to your neck.  “I know,” you replied.  “I trust you, Laszlo.”

But you couldn't help but gasp when his tongue teased your pulse, his teeth gently grazing the most delicate places they could find.  His grip at your waist tightened when you whimpered.  “Is this pleasurable to you?” he asked softly; even such a formal statement made you shudder when he said it in that low, buttery voice…

You nodded, your back arching slightly to press yourself against him, but you felt him smile against you suddenly.

“I'd like for you to say it,” he explained, an unfamiliar darkness to his voice.

“It's… pleasurable,” you panted.  “When you kiss me there… it's like I feel every touch s-somewhere else—”

“Where, my love?”

“Here,” you sighed, grabbing his hand from your back and moving it between your legs.  He instantly cupped and rubbed your mound, and your knees nearly buckled from the pleasure.

“Mein Gott, you're so sensitive,” he observed, his own voice sounding a little strained, “I've hardly touched you.”

“L-Laszlo, just touch me more,” you pleaded.

Though he’d been so careful until that moment, he suddenly started to pull up the skirt of your nightgown rather hastily, nostrils flaring as he bent down slightly and worked to hoist the fabric up.  Finally, he got under it, but teased you by rubbing and groping at your thighs instead; under his breath, you just barely heard a growl before he began to kiss your neck again.

“Even if both my hands were strong, I'd wish for more to touch you with,” he mumbled against your skin.  “I'd still want to cover you entirely, reach every part of you at once.”

Well, you liked the sound of that, but one hand was doing you plenty of good already— especially when it slid back up to cup you again, making you sigh and moan as his fingers slipped through your folds, spreading your abundant wetness all around.

Desperate to return even a portion of the sensation he was giving to you, you placed your hand against the bulge in his trousers.  Though the shape and firmness of him made you gasp excitedly, he only let you rub it for a few moments before sighing and moving your hand away.  “Not yet, my darling,” he instructed.  “It's best if we take this one step at a time, for now.”

You felt a little silly, having to be held back like that, but you nodded.  He obviously knew better than you about all this.

It was almost too much, the way he was touching you: you had your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders to try to keep yourself upright, frankly.  And yet, for how overwhelming it was, you heard yourself saying—

“More, please,” you begged, “I-I need you, just give me more, please—”

“I will,” he promised roughly, “but not here.  I think it’s only right that I take you to bed, hm?”

If you weren’t all worked up, you might’ve made some witty comment about how at least the bed’s not too far or whatever— but no, you just let him guide you the few steps to the mattress, and you sat on it as you simply awaited further orders.  So little that he’d done to you, and you’d already do whatever he asked in exchange for continued attention.

You watched him roll up his sleeve— it took him a little while with the weaker hand, but you didn’t mind letting this moment last— and didn’t even notice the way your mouth had gone slack, you were nearly salivating.  “Lay back, darling,” he instructed simply, still looking at his sleeve as he finally folded it up to his elbow, “and open your legs.”

You obeyed, of course, and bit absent-mindedly on your lip as you slowly lifted your knees and parted your thighs.  There was no point being shy now, of course— and you were more than eager for him to get back to doing what he had been before— but you still felt a nervous hesitance that made your hands (and heart) shake slightly.  Something about stopping to get in the bed had brought a bit of sobriety to the moment, and you realized in retrospect how desperate you must have looked.  Surely he wouldn’t hold that against you…

He lifted your skirt again, up to your hips, and hummed lowly at the sight of your sex.  Your face burned hotter; you liked the way he touched it, but you didn’t feel entirely comfortable with him… staring at it.

Still, it was the sort of slight discomfort that felt oddly… good?  Yes, you were a bit embarrassed and exposed at the moment, but it felt wrong in that fun, naughty sort of way; it made your hips shift a little, presumably in hopes of some friction.  Thankfully, their wish was answered: his hand was on you again, pulling your lips apart, slowly exploring you until your eyes fluttered shut.

“May I touch you inside as well?” he asked— as if there was any risk of you turning that offer down.

“Y-yes, Laszlo, please,” you whispered, whimpering as you felt the tip of his pointer finger— suddenly it seemed a little thicker than you remembered— press up to your entrance and ever so gently slide inside.

“Just one to start,” he narrated softly as that one finger made your toes curl, only one finger making your hips twist and your back arch.  How could he do that to you so easily?  “And my thumb can help with this lovely little organ you have…”

His thumb circled your bud, and you shuddered all over— even inside— and instantly struggled to catch your breath.  “Laszlo, what… what is that…” you breathed, whimpering when he rubbed it again.

“Your clitoris, my love— you’ve never touched here before?”

He should’ve known you hadn’t— even if you had… explored yourself out of childish curiosity probably a decade ago, you would’ve remembered if it felt like this.  Shaking your head, you were surprised by his little growl.

“Your poor girl,” he cooed, something a little attractive about the slight condescension of it.  “You have so much to learn.  I can’t even imagine the things you’ve never felt before…”

He slowly moved the pad of his thumb up and down over the flesh, which only grew firmer as he continued.  “Oh!” you whimpered, hips rocking back against his touch— it was so wild of you, you thought, but you couldn’t really stop yourself.  He pressed harder and your whole body jumped.  “Fuck!”

He laughed a little, and your face got warmer.  “I’ve never heard you use language like that, Schatz, but it sounds impossibly adorable when you say it.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you began, “I couldn’t help it—”

“No, don’t apologize,” he insisted, “I’d rather you said it again.  Whenever you can’t help it, of course.”

You knew that Laszlo knew more than you about many topics, being a highly-educated man of great intellect, but you hadn’t expected him to introduce you to an entirely new body part that you’d been carrying with you this whole time.  If you’d figured out how to do anything like this to yourself, you might have spent your entire adolescence trapped in your room, so maybe it was for the best that you never put it together.

You weren't sure how any woman was meant to learn these things— you figured she wasn't meant to, unfortunately— but if she had a choice, you'd certainly recommend this method, provided she could find her own husband to try it with rather than borrowing yours.  What a visceral and beautiful way to learn how much that little organ could really do: Laszlo rubbing it with his thumb, with just the right amount of pressure to make a loud moan crawl out of you.

“The noises you make are just delightful, my darling,” he praised.  “Keep going, so I know what I should do.”

“Just do that,” you begged, “just keep doing that.”

“Only this?” he pressed.  “I shouldn't even add another finger?”

Of course, that was when he did— gently pressing his middle finger to your opening until it accommodated it, and you heard your own high-pitched whine in disbelief that you'd made the sound.  “F-fuck, that feels… Laszlo, you're so—”

But you interrupted yourself, because he did something so diabolical with his fingers just then.  He'd only twisted and scissored them inside you for a moment before curling them up, rubbing the most delicate place you never knew you had— just as he pushed down harder on your poor clit.  You felt ravenous all of a sudden, terribly overwhelmed but greedy for more.

“Please, oh god, please—” you started to beg before you even knew what you wanted.  He knew what you wanted, and he gave it to you: more.  It wasn't even very significant of a movement, and yet it turned your whole body into his plaything as you started to shake all over.

“You react more than I ever expected, my darling,” he cooed.  “I never dreamed how well you would respond to my touch.  I've only just begun and I think you're already nearly there.”

Before you could wonder where he was talking about, he pulled his fingers out of you carefully.  You heard yourself whimper a little, opening your eyes and looking at him worriedly.  He smiled, seeming to enjoy how much his interruption seemed to bother you; “Take off your nightgown, my love,” he requested plainly.  “I think I’d like to get a good look at you before I go on.”

Sitting up (and finding your head a bit more dizzy than you expected), you started by unbuttoning from your neck halfway down to your chest, before lifting the thin garment up over your head slowly.  You felt so strange doing this— undressing in front of a man— but your heart pounded with hope that he would enjoy what he saw.  Tossing the dress aside, you sheepishly bit your lip and waited for his assessment as his dark brown eyes grazed over your nude form.

He moved a little closer, his hand running up your leg and then around your side, reaching up to carefully cup one of your breasts.  You breathed deeply but unevenly, your chest rising and falling against his touch.  You were almost nervous that he hadn’t said anything yet, but the look in his eyes just became more and more clear; you whimpered under your breath when his fingers brushed over your hardened nipple, ever-so-delicately pinching it until your hips shifted a bit in response.  “How beautiful you are, my love,” he whispered, making you squirm again with just his words.  “Is it true you’re really my wife?  This lovely, delicate body that only I can touch and caress, laying next to me every night… I don’t know when I’ll really believe it.”

You had to shut your eyes for a second— you might be too brash if he kept on like that, praising you so tenderly.  “You could’ve been a poet,” you told him with a little smirk, blinking open your eyes again as he guided you to lay back once more, “if medicine didn’t suit you.”

“Oh, I’m no poet, Schatz,” he smiled in return, taking one more careful squeeze of your other breast before moving down to pet inside your legs again.  “All I am is painfully honest.”

His fingers slid inside you again, and you could’ve sworn he was rubbing inside you a bit more firmly than he had been before— thrusting a little faster, pushing a little deeper.  And all the while he was staring down at you, back and forth between your face and your hole, with a delicious darkness in his eyes.

It was still a patient endeavor, so much so that you never really noticed that he was getting a little quicker and rougher with it.  You really didn’t figure it out until you heard yourself choking out his name, groaning and gasping louder than you meant to— but you couldn’t suppress it very well, either.

You soon began to realize what he meant before with that nearly there comment, without even having any prior knowledge of what it could be… there was something instinctive about it, something totally natural.  You didn’t know what was coming, but you understood it; you knew you were on the edge of something and that if you could just get there it would be perfect.

Still, you couldn’t have known how much you would enjoy it.

You couldn’t stop moaning— it was this all-surrounding, ecstatic feeling, like… sinking into something.  Relaxing into something… something warm and soft and good.  Even a lifetime of religious repression couldn’t convince you this was anything but perfect.  Actually, nothing had ever felt right quite the way this did.

Your back arched rather dramatically, until you had a good view of the headboard upside-down; and he gave you few more fast, rough pumps of his fingers into your shaking body before slowing down to a stop and letting you rest.

Suddenly drained, you melted back down onto the bed with a long whine.  “How did that feel?” he asked, sounding a little formal about it, and you only could muster a little, exhausted laugh because what did he think you were going to say?  ‘It was alright, tickled a little bit, but I didn’t mind it.’

“That was… you… you’re so—” you began a few times, giving up to open your eyes wide when his fingers pet up and down over the seam of your lips, gently exploring you, making you quiver from how sensitive you’d become.  You weren’t even done recovering from the stimulation and he was giving you more; he seemed sort of absent-minded about it, the way he gently and repetitively slid up and down and up and down through your slick and swollen folds… but it was deliberate, you knew it was, because he smiled when you moaned weakly.

One finger pressed inside you again, and he watched your face closely and you shuddered.  You were just the slightest bit sore, and it felt like that one finger was more of a stretch than before… which seemed impossible, but with the erratic pulsing of your walls, it was a little hard to keep track.

You gasped sharply when he put the second finger in you once more, almost snarling a bit as he watched you react so strongly.  “Laszlo, I— I don't think I can do that again—”

“You can, I'm sure of it,” he encouraged, curling his fingers inside of you, which required a bit more force with your channel bearing down against him in response.  “It might even come faster this time, that little spot is all swollen now—”

Before he could finish that sentence, he proved it by circling the place, making your hips jump up as another whine eked out of you.  “O-oh, I— fuck…”

He smirked a bit, a delicious smugness to his expression, and the emotion looked much too good on him.  “See?  Just let me take control, my love.  I think you'll like what I do, if you simply let me do what I like with you.”

Fuck, that had to be the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard.  You were biting your lip to try to keep back the flood of terribly embarrassing things your pleasure wanted to say for you: you can do whatever you like with me; I'm yours; I'd do anything for you; don't ever stop, but also if you don't fuck me soon I might lose my mind, you know, things of that nature.  Instead you let out a muffled moan, and nodded to make sure he knew that he had your permission for whatever he thought was best.

And, of course, he’d been right about you: that you’d be even more sensitive after coming, and would be able to go through it all over again.  It only took probably a minute or two of dedicated, precise stimulation for the feeling to grow again… except it felt a little stronger this time, like it was building past the point that it had broken at before.  Maybe your tolerance was higher, or something?  You really weren’t qualified to say— all you could think about was this sensation, this tension, and the way he looked at you as you started to shake all over.

Your eyes fell shut instinctively, your shaking hands clutching at the bed under you; you felt sort of numb all over, except instead of everything being dulled and distant, it was only heightened.

“O-oh, oh, Laszlo, I—” you tried to warn him, words escaping you as the heavy, almost sharp feeling gathered tighter and tighter…

“Give into it,” he insisted, “it’s alright— I want to see it.  I want to hear you, I want to feel you when you come—”

His voice was getting darker, rougher, more demanding as he went on; and in the same way, his fingers’ thrusts into you became more aggressive.  “Fuck, I— I think I’ll— oh god!” you yelped.

“Yes,” he encouraged, “let go, darling!”

Your arms flailed around for a second before finding a lump in the sheets to grab onto tightly, your hips rocking against his hand, your head falling back in a scream; it was so intense, and so sudden, and you felt like the pressure that had been building broke so violently that it would’ve been painful without all the ecstasy running through your veins, numbing you inside and out.

You could tell that this one was different— hotter, warmer, wetter— but you had no idea what you’d done until the high had started to fade just a bit.

His hand slowed down to a stop, you heard him quietly catching his breath, and you blinked your eyes open… that’s when you noticed small wet stains on his rolled-up sleeve, and shiny fluid along his forearm— and a very proud grin on his face.

You felt your eyes go wide and your cheeks start baking.  He spoke up before you could even try to process what to say: “That was excellent, my love— I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so magnificent,” he praised.  “You’re incredible.”

You wanted to believe him, but it didn’t really offer much explanation.  “Laszlo, I… did I—?”

“No, darling, don’t worry,” he cooed, scooting a little closer on the bed as he pet the inside of your thigh.  “It’s natural— one of the… rarer ways that a woman’s body can respond to stimulation.  I’ve always found the concept fascinating, but until now, my knowledge was… purely theoretical.  Actually, I’d love to gather your perspective on the experience, possibly for a future research paper on the topic— but that’s an issue for another time.  There’s a more pressing matter I need to discuss with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious what matter could be discussed in a time like this.

“I… I'd like to try something else,” he announced, and you dropped your head back on the bed in a sort of defeat.

“Something else?!” you whimpered, still catching your breath from the last thing he had “tried”.  “What else could there be but making love?”

“That will be soon, I promise, I just… I can't resist such an opportunity,” he explained.  “Your scent is so erotic, and it's only grown stronger now that you’ve so generously covered my arm in your ecstasy.  And with anything that smells so delectable, one can't help but crave to taste it.”

You'd only heard about this before— sort of a dirty schoolyard secret, almost an urban legend.  The whole thing had always sounded odd to you, if maybe not as icky as you thought it was when you first had the concept whispered to you as a child.  You didn't realize it was actually something you might experience someday, assuming it was a practice reserved to the especially perverted.  Now that he was offering it, you found yourself biting your lip as you tried to imagine what it would be like.

“I'd like to pleasure you with my mouth,” he concluded, really spelling it out for you.  “Would that be alright?”

You weren't sure what to think of that, and yet you were already nodding yes.  This was your husband, after all— who else could you trust to do something like this?  Most of all, you did it because you wanted to please him.  Because he'd asked you for it.

He smiled a little when you agreed, and began to lean down between your legs.  Those deep brown eyes seemed to sparkle more than ever when he looked up at you, but his gaze couldn't stay with yours for long before he had to give a closer look to your cunt.  He carefully spread the lips with his fingers, humming at the sight.  “I wonder if it's even possible for you to be as delicious as you look,” he spoke quietly, and a needy whine caught in your throat.

It was just a gentle kiss to your clit first… then another, with his lips parted.  Then he started to ever-so-gently suckle at it, tongue softly petting it; he wasn't doing too much, physically, but you never could catch your breath while he was doing it.

You whined a bit when he broke away, looking down at him in search of an explanation but finding instead him looking back up at you with an indescribable look in his eye.

“How does that feel?” he asked, his voice rougher and darker than you'd ever heard it before, making you shiver gleefully.

“Wet,” you blurted out, making him smile a little, a small laugh on an exhale through his nose that made you feel a bit foolish in an unexpectedly pleasurable way.  “A-and warm… please don't stop, Laszlo, it felt so nice…”

He got back to it, a little more intensely than before, and your eyes rolled back when he really started to lap at you with his tongue— harder and wider each time, making you writhe from the intensity of it.

You couldn't even describe the sound you made when he pushed his tongue inside you.  He moaned against you in response to it, though, and thank God, he kept going.

He kept petting your thighs, even encouraging you when your legs clamped down around his head unintentionally; presumably that was his way of saying it wasn’t giving him any pain, which you were a bit concerned about, even if you couldn’t really stop yourself.  Sometimes you had the strength to meet his gaze, but most of the time you felt like you’d melt if you looked back at him— the way he was staring up at you was just too fiery, too intense, too beautiful.  

Just when you thought you were getting used to the pattern of his tongue’s movements on your clit, he gently pushed his two fingers back into your pulsing channel.  You were all tingly and sore inside, but a long, deep moan fell from your mouth as your back arched.

“Beautiful,” he praised, the word muffled by what he was doing— which he got back to more urgently than ever, twisting and thrusting his fingers inside you carefully at first.

“J-just like that,” you pleaded.  “Oh, Laszlo, I— I didn't know anything could… feel like this…”

You could feel the smallest smirk on his lips as he continued; even just being able to feel his smug smile there was such a lovely, erotic, totally novel concept to you.  

When he really buried his face in your legs, you could feel the roughness of his beard against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and buttocks, and god was it the most beautifully filthy feeling.  It was really an excellent metaphor for the whole thing: the symbol of his maturity, the well-kempt facial hair itself a balance between his wildness and his meticulous self-control, rubbing raw your delicate and untouched skin in such an intimate place.  If you weren’t too busy shaking and crying and seeing stars on this bed, you might have appreciated the beauty in those parallels, but clearly you weren’t capable of thinking about it to that level of depth.

The stream of helpless praises you'd been trying to hold back earlier?  There was absolutely nothing stopping it from spilling forward now.  “You're incredible,” you blurted out, your hand holding tighter to the sheets beneath you.  “Laszlo— my husband— you… you must be the devil, o-or an angel or prophet— or something. You make me feel things, such incredible things, that I didn't even know—”

He opened his mouth wide around you, breaking the seal of his lips so he could speak against your skin.  “I'm just a man,” he promised, “I'm just a husband becoming addicted to his new wife's pleasure, that's all, my dear.”

As he started to do it again so suddenly, you reacted suddenly as well: your hand found his hair and grabbed it, and your mind was too far gone to worry about it being too aggressive.  Not that he gave any signs of annoyance— if anything it was the opposite, as he lapped at you harder in response.  

This, of course made your hips jump up— until his hand slipped out of you, grabbing them and pulling them down, keeping you still as he continued.  The simple show of dominance affected you greatly, another heavy pulse of pleasure hitting you suddenly.

“I-I'm close,” you whispered.  “Laszlo, I'm so close— and it feels so different than before— I swear, nothing's ever felt so— fuck!”

He hummed encouragingly, and your whole body rocked in time with the growing pressure.  His fingers sliding back inside you, seeming to curl even more than before, certainly added to the sensation.

Just as you were teetering on the edge, his teeth grazed impossibly-carefully over you, a sharp and raw sort of pleasure jolting your entire body.  Of course, you couldn't fight against that, and the feeling inside you snapped as yet another flood of pleasure ripped through your body.  Your ears were ringing but you still heard how loud you must have been, how totally wrecked and helpless your moans had become.  

It wasn’t as… aggressive of a feeling as the one that had made you… you know… but it was probably the most powerful in its own way.  The highest, the heaviest, the most whole.  You couldn't hear him moaning against you through all that, but you could feel it: a deep and bassy vibration that only heightened the feeling even more.  Your moans turned to cries and then sobs; it was too much, the feeling was spilling over inside you— you weren't sure how much longer you could take it all before you broke.

It seemed, however, that he broke first; he pulled away and sat up, leaving you both panting, sweaty messes.  

“God, you're so beautiful,” he sighed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up into a filthy, heated kiss.  You surrendered instantly, grabbing into his shoulders with hands that were still pricked with pins and needles as your high dissipated slowly.  “I can't wait anymore,” he mumbled against your lips, “I need to be inside you.”

“Please,” you gasped softly— you'd been waiting for this all night, at least.  You'd never imagined yourself so eager, so desperate for it, though…

He made quick work untying his robe, leaning over you as he held tightly onto his cock and guided the swollen, leaking head between your lips.  Yes, even with desire coursing through your veins, a touch of anxiety was still present.  You just couldn’t imagine what this was going to be like, you could still hardly believe it was happening to you— and, though it was a bit crass to think, you were a bit surprised by the brief glance of his cock that you’d gotten.  You wouldn’t really know what was big or small or normal or abnormal when it came to that… you had nothing to compare it to.  What you did know was that it seemed much… thicker, than seemed appropriate to go inside you.  Of course you knew that a young woman’s first experience could be painful, you’d heard that bleeding was normal (if not expected, but that seemed a bit barbaric and certainly not what a progressive man like Laszlo was after) — yet, you still weren’t properly scared.  It was just the sort of anticipation that made you shiver and let out a long breath to compose yourself.

He groaned a little as he continued to rub against you, and you noticed the arm that held him up over you was shaking.  You could only imagine how frustrating it must have been to be giving you all that attention and not getting any in return for so long, and you could only hope he might take a little of that frustration out on you…

“Please,” you said again, quieter, as you looked up at him.  Thankfully, that was enough to make him press forward and slide into you all at once.

While his fingers had stretched you in such strange, sometimes overwhelming ways, his cock… it just fit.  It filled you exactly the way you needed— not too wide or too deep… though you suspected it would've been had he not prepared you so incredibly thoroughly.  And while his tongue has made you feel such unimaginable things, though his lips had effortlessly sucked ecstasy from your shaking body, having him inside you felt so simple and natural and easy.  

He hissed in his breaths as he moved— slow at first, but each one just a bit faster than the last.  Every movement stimulated all the places he'd already awoken inside you, and your legs moved on their own to latch around his hips while your head fell back with a satisfied sigh.

“My angel,” he groaned, staring down at you as each of his thrusts rocked you under him.  “I knew I— fuck, darling— I knew I'd have trouble keeping myself together when I was finally inside you.  Yet you're… you're even more perfect than I imagined.”

You smiled proudly, reaching up to hold his shoulders; he seemed encouraged by that, becoming just a bit rougher in his movements until your nails accidentally dug into his skin just a bit.

“I won't be able to last much longer,” he grunted, “but I-I can't stop.  I can't even slow down, I never… I've never lost control like this before.”

A shiver ran up your whole body, even seeming to make you clench inside— and he moaned in return, a beautifully pitiful sound.  

“I'm sorry,” he offered between panting breaths, and you barely mustered the energy to laugh. 

“Beloved, what do you have to apologize for?” you teased through a grin.  “Surely you're not worried that I will be left unsatisfied.”

“I would rather bring you to orgasm again,” he explained, “but I'm so desperate for you, I'm afraid I lack the patience for it.”

“I would rather pleasure my husband, for once,” you replied, “but you couldn't possibly feel what I felt, I don't think I'll ever be able to really return the favor—”

“It's no favor,” he insisted.  “Your pleasure is what I desire.  And a good wife gives her husband what he desires, no?”

You whimpered desperately, pathetically even.  “I'll be good for you, Laszlo,” you promised weakly, “I want to be a good wife to you…”

“You're a very good wife, my dear,” he assured.  “Look how much pleasure you've let me take from you, look how you've soaked our bed with your lovely nectar…”

You weren't sure which part of that aroused you the most… but our bed was a serious contender.

“And you taste absolutely divine,” he added, before kissing you again to let you taste it, too.  It was a sloppy and needy kiss, not precise and careful like basically everything else he'd done to you so far, but you loved it.  You loved any sign that he might be just as desperate as you.

Once again his speed and intensity picked up, until you could hear his skin hitting against yours loudly, and your back arched a bit at how perfectly dirty it felt.  His cock hit a spot deep inside you, and you sucked in a sharp breath.  “Laszlo,” you blurted out, and he groaned as he moved his kiss to your neck.  

“Keep saying my name,” he demanded.  “Tell me who your husband is— who makes you feel this way you've never felt before.”

“Laszlo,” you said again, “I'm yours.  Anything you want from me, it's yours.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a heavy sigh.

“Your wife, always,” you continued, and it made your own heart swell along with encouraging him: he moved faster, rocked deeper into you, and breathed heavy against your ear as your back arched from the erotic perfection of the moment.

“My wife,” he repeated, making you whine and nod and bear down on him with your walls.

“Yes,” you gasped, “yes— yours, I’m yours—”

“I-I can't hold back anymore,” he moaned, “I don't… I don't even know if I can bring myself to pull out before—”

“Don't,” you begged.  “I want it inside, Laszlo.  I want all of you inside me.”

“Oh, darling, mein Schatz, I—” he choked, but he never finished his sentence.  He just moaned louder and louder and fucked you faster and faster— until you were nearly screaming from how hard he hammered into you.

It stopped all at once; he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could, so deep you felt like you were struggling to breathe, and hid his face in the curve of your neck as he came inside you.

And for a long, beautiful moment, you just laid together; you were sort of halfway between awake and asleep, your whole body thrummed with emotions and sensations you never thought you could fit within yourself.  Time passed, surely, but you wouldn’t have known the difference.  His weight on top of you wasn’t too heavy, though it did keep you pressed into the mattress and sheets— not that you were going anywhere anyways.

You only really came back to reality when you felt small kisses trailing your neck; you hummed and squirmed a little beneath him, making you both groan as it stirred where you were connected.  He must have been a bit sore, too, though you felt like you’d been through quite a lot more and had a better excuse.

He moved again, just barely, and you winced as you held onto his back.  “Don’t go,” you whispered, afraid of the pain if he didn’t just stay still inside you.

“I have to, sometime,” he breathed in return.

“But—”

“I know, my love,” he cooed, “I’d stay inside you forever if I could.  But I’ll hurt you more if I don’t give you time to rest.”

Resigning yourself with a sigh, you nodded a little and scrunched up your face as he pulled his hips back.  It did sting, but it faded quickly once he was out— and the feeling was replaced with a warm, wet feeling that you realized must have been his seed leaking out of you.  It made you feel a bit dirty, but wonderful, too.

He laid beside you with a deep breath, his hand coming up to your face and turning it so you would look back at him.  You had to blink a few times to really see clearly, and even still, everything seemed a bit blurry around the edges.  The whole world seemed a bit softer, really.  “I love you, darling wife,” he told you simply, his voice soft but no longer a whisper, and he pet your cheek as he leaned in to kiss the bridge of your nose.

“I love you too, husband,” you cooed in reply.  “You’re so wonderful— a-and you’re nothing like I imagined, sometimes.”

“Perhaps I should have been more careful,” he offered nervously.

“No— that was perfect,” you promised.

“I meant the very end, there,” he clarified, his hand running down over your body and resting on your stomach.  “You might have wanted to wait longer… if you had a child so soon, you might wish we had more time just the two of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he meant.  “Oh, that…” you mumbled, smiling a bit to yourself.

“I fully intended to have my finish elsewhere, to lower the chances— I didn’t think I would become so… impulsive,” he sighed.  “I hoped to still control myself, but I’m afraid I wasn’t quite able to, once I was within you.  But I couldn’t help it, with the way you feel…”

“It’s alright,” you laughed weakly, “it’s not as if I were acting rationally.  I never… I didn’t think I could be so… so—”

A thousand words came to mind.  Unladylike.  Animalistic.  Desperate.  Insatiable.

“I didn’t think I’d ever act like that,” you said instead, voice getting a little softer as you felt a bit shy again.

“I knew you would,” he responded, making you look at him with wide eyes and warming cheeks.

“You— but I— I was always—!”

“Yes, you behaved very well each time I met you” he recalled with a proud smile, “always so sweet and well-mannered.  But I knew you had so much need within you, so much hunger… a being of pure instinct just waiting to take over when the time was right.”

Your heart skipped a beat— you felt a bit… accused by that statement, yet you couldn’t really deny it.  Even if you hadn’t known it before, it was clearly true now.  “How… how could you have sensed that?” you wondered.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you again; you loved the way he looked in that moment.  His expression was familiar, but the total lack of composure— flushed cheeks, sweat on his brow, messed hair— was totally new and quite pleasant.  “If you didn’t have any desire to misbehave, my darling, you wouldn’t have been going out with me.”

[universesweetheart]

Bad Dream (Dazai x Reader)

Art credits to haru9033 on Twitter (X or whatever the new name is)

Look at my cinnamon bun, my sweet baby. He's safe in my bed y'all! This is 100% self-indulgent because my therapy is until the 18th so I needed a distraction after reading chapter 109.

In which we have a nightmare (chapter 109 is the fucking nightmare) and Dazai comforts us to the best of his abilities. He's trying ok!

Should I write comfort for Sigma? When I get my hands on that rat!

Bye now - Mars ♡

Your eyes shot open, big and filled to the brim with tears. You felt your heart beating out of your chest, the muscle pumping larger amounts of blood under the silly impression that you’re dying. You were dying. It felt so, at least.

This unbearable tight feeling in your chest, like someone had your heart in their hands and was continuously wringing. Tighter and tighter. Your throat, stiff and dry, made your body feel worse. You could barely get a word out.

Dreams have a funny way of feeling too real and your silly little brain confuses reality with them. But it felt so real.

An overwhelmingly dreadful feeling engulfs your chest.

Breathe. Breathe.

The man beside you sleeping peacefully, or so it looked. Your legs intertwined with each other, and his head rested up against your breast without fully being on top of you. You try to calm yourself down, not wanting to wake your lover. It’s rare he gets any sleep. His own mind a steady home for ugly thoughts.

Gently you push him away from your body and get up, making your way to the kitchen. You poured yourself a glass of cold water and chug it down.

“Bella…” Dazai calls from the doorway, his face filled with sleep and his hair messy yet he still managed to look beautiful. He’s always beautiful.

“Oh… Osamu” you said weakly with a smile. “Just got a bit thirsty” you lie. You’ve figured out a while ago that it’s impossible to lie to him. The man was simply too smart.

Dazai smiled and approached you, his hands finding homage on your waist. “Bad dream?” he asked and leaned down holding you close. He rubbed his cheek against yours.

You nod, “I can’t hide anything from you huh?” his grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly. “No.”

He hums and leads you back to your bedroom. “Come, sit” he sits down on the bed leaning against the headboard and pulls you down onto his lap, “Tell me about it” His voice low and gentle. He radiates a certain comfort, or maybe it was because you’ve grown to love him so dearly that you naturally seek comfort from him.

Dazai places a kiss on your forehead, his hand rubbing your back trying to soothe you.

“Osamu…I…” You take a deep breath, “you… you died” your voice breaks and the tears roll down your cheeks. He brings his other hand up to your cheek, wiping away your tears. “I know it’s just a dream, but it felt too real and-and” you bury your face into the crook of his neck. His scent working as a grounding method, you breathe him in deeply. He smells like home.

Your home.

“I just don’t want to lose you” the tears kept flowing and your voice trembles as you speak.

“Bella I’m here” Dazai pulls you closer to his body as if to prove his point. “Right here my love” he leans down and kisses you. The kiss is slow, long, sloppy and each passing second, he presses himself closer into you. “I’m not going anywhere” he whispers against your lips.

He knows he’s contradicting himself. He knows. He knows he sounds like a hypocrite because he’s always mentioning suicide and asking you to die alongside him but right now. Right now, seeing you like this, crying and trembling he feels his heart breaks to pieces. And crying because of a stupid dream of him dying makes it even worse.

He knows it’s selfish but how he’s happy. Because he feels so loved right now. You’re crying over him, even if it’s just his dream self, you’re still crying for him. His heart does a little flutter. Still his main priority is comforting you, he’s no stranger to nightmares and you’re always there to comfort him when he’s bothered by his own ugly thoughts and dreams.

But Dazai felt so helpless, and he uttered out the most cliché words, but he couldn’t help it. Not when his love is trembling in fear right in his arms. 

“Samu you” you exhales, trying to find your composure but every time you think you’ve stopped crying the minute you look into his eyes the tears start coming again. It was horrible, the image of your nightmare just replaying in your head.

Wrapping your hands around him you hug him tightly, you’re afraid he may not be able to breathe so you release it a bit. “Don’t fucking die” you threaten and Dazai can’t help but smile. This woman.

“Bella sshh” he seeks out your lips, kissing you again. “M’here, right here, yeah?” he pulls back and hold your face with both hands and rests his forehead against yours.

You’ve calmed down a bit, forehead resting against his. “Osamu, just” you found it hard to speak. Your body slightly trembling, seeking your lover’s touch.  “Don’t move, just hold me…please”

He wraps his arms tighter around your form, you snuggle into him and close your eyes.

Dazai found himself humming softly and patting your back in a comforting manner. He kept doing so until he felt your light snore and the slower heartbeat. The steady thump thump thump comforting him.

“I love you very much and I won’t leave” he whispered and placed a kiss on the crown of your head.

.

That night Dazai Osamu stayed awake and kept his lover tightly secured in his arms, looking over and comforting them.

[mannaima]

I was thinking about a dark joel x reader with smut she's innocent and still kind of sheltered from the world (doesn't go out that much) maybe because her father is the leader (of fedra or something), then one day on the rare occasion she happens to be out and Joel sees her and he has to have her and he has an unhealthy obsession to make her his. And he manipulates her into having sex with him then he tells her "you're mine forever".

My Best Friend Joel(part one)

Summary: Joel sees a pretty little thing and takes advantage of a girl who knows nothing better.

Authors note: WOOOOO this is so hawt. Dark! Joel is a such a sleazy little bastard when he wants something, and this time all he wants is a sweet girl to warm his DICK!!! Also have u seen that tiktok that says Pedro Pascal would guide u thru it,,,,,,, Yeah. This is kinda based on that LOL.

I also decided I wanted to make this a two parter. Create tension. Hehehehe

Word count: 4.3K

Warnings: Dub-con(ish) ( joel manipulates), age gap (reader is 19 and Joel is 56), stalking, generally creepy Joel, reader has no idea how friendship and joel takes advantage of this by making her think suckin dick is how you say hello.

“What do we do when someone knocks at the door and doesn’t use our secret knock?” 

“Hide in the cupboard.”

“Good. Do we ever look out the windows in the daytime?”

“No, we do not.”

“Well done. Lastly, where do we never go?”

“Outside.”

Your father kissed your forehead, his FEDRA uniform draped his body as he waved off, shutting the door behind him as you locked the many different locks. Your father had instilled the fear of the outside world to you since day one, you were to never leave the home under any circumstance. When you were small, you listened to his long list of rules, you didn’t so much as peek through the curtains as long as the day was bright. But as you got older, you slowly began to understand less and less of your fathers worries. He told you stories of the zombie-like creatures that lay beyond the walls, the people fighting for something as simple as sleeping pills. You were fascinated at first, but it slowly began to bore you. You grew tired of the home you spent your entire life in, not even being able to go to school throughout your youth. Even now, at nineteen years old, you were old enough to have your own apartment, but your father insisted on just one more year, he told you it wasn’t safe.

You looked through the sheer curtains, watched the people walk along the dirty and destroyed streets. Dirty, tired, exhausted, and yet you envied them. You wanted the feeling of freedom, even if it meant that freedom guaranteed you danger. What was the point of living if you didn’t experience fear once in a while? You sighed, and continued to watch the people below you, you didn’t care anymore. Just once, you wanted to feel the fresh air, hear the chattering of people up close, maybe even meet a friend. But your dreams stayed dreams for so long it didn’t seem possible to even see the outside. You stood up from your seat next to the window, in anger, you were tired of being cooped up. You paced around the room, your mind conjuring up the idea to escape, even just for one day. You finally decided on a decent enough plan.

You would leave, just for a few hours. You could wear a disguise, maybe a head covering and large enough jacket, and explore. Feel the air and make a friend. You would leave thirty minutes after your father left, and leave the door unlocked. Nobody had ever tried to knock on your door for the past nineteen years, so why would someone do it now?

You nodded to yourself, the pieces of the plan finalizing in your head. You walked to your bedroom and began to plan an outfit, something practical but also not to draw attention. You settled on a pair of bootcut jeans with a plain t-shirt, covered by a large jacket, and a black scarf worn over your head. You had seen enough people every day to understand the average outfit, you nodded once again to yourself. This was perfect.

-------

“Alright sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, they have me working the night shift. Be safe alright?” 

“Yes father.” You nodded, and he kissed your forehead and you waved him off. The night couldn’t have gone any slower, your mind racing in excitement. You hadn’t accounted for your father working an extra long shift today, so that gave you even more relief in leaving. You had to make sure you got home no later than 4 pm, a quick glance at the clock showed it was 10 am. Leave at 10:30 am. You had plenty of time, you didn’t have to worry. You paced around the home, too anxious to sit down and wait, you checked the clock periodically, hoping for it to be time soon. The second the clock hit 10:20, you marched into your room to put on your clothes. Slipping on every single garment, you finished with a pair of red converse, your breath hitching in excitement. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt. You were betraying your fathers rule he made for your safety. But the other side of your brain told you that he couldn’t keep you here forever. You shook your head, as if to rid the thought rotting your brain, and you took one last look at the clock on your wall.

10:30.

You had to go now.

You made your way to your front door, hand shaking as you reached for the knob, why were you so nervous? You’ve waited your entire life to do this, can't stop now. You pushed open the door, and your eyes shut a little due to the brightness. You closed the door behind you and descended down the stairs, very carefully. You were in awe, you had never felt so small in your life, the world being so big around you. You wanted to run, frolic, and enjoy the wonder of the outside world. You didn’t care how destroyed it all was, how the cracks in the streets made people trip, or the smell of firewood that burned through your nose. No, it all felt like such a privilege, you had never known such freedom.

You walked among the people, trying your best to blend in, make yourself appear as normal as possible. Your biggest fear was being mugged or hurt, and then your father would never let you out of his sight again, maybe even tie you to your bed. You smiled, a rare joy among the faces of the depressed, no more were you a prisoner.

Vendors selling shoe laces, patches of cloth, and other things you didn’t quite understand, but still appreciated nonetheless. You wanted to get a closer look at a small doll-like figure made of cloth, so you reached your hand out to grab it. As you did, another hand did as well, causing you to both flinch.

“Oh. I’m sorry sir.” You noticed the hand was much larger than yours, with hair that began to go slightly gray.

“No, my fault sweetheart. Go right ahead.” You peered your head up to look at him, right away you noticed he was much older. He was dirty and had a look of an unknown emotion. 

“Thank you.” You quietly said, before reaching to take a look at the doll, small, and it had a small smile on her face. It was made out of scrap clothing or cloth, and it had a strange texture, yet it was so cute to you.

“Five ration cards, miss.” The vendor told you, and you immediately froze. Ration cards? You didn’t know what that was, having never known about stuff like this. 

“I. I- Um. Sorry.” You slowly began to put back down the doll, embarrassed of your actions. A hand pushed your hand back, however.

“Here you are sir.” The large man next to you handed the vendor some cards, leaving you confused.

“I- Uh. Thank you sir.” You looked up at him, holding the small doll to your chest. You hadn’t had a doll since before. Ever.  

“It’s not an issue at all, sweetheart. I take you don’t have a job?”

“Haha. Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You didn’t really know what to say, but he nodded at your answer.

“So where you off to?” You both walked into a direction you had no clue of, but you just shrugged.

“I dunno. I was just walking around. Just exploring.” You were not confident in your answers, unsure why this man stuck to your side. 

“You don’t know?” He questioned you. You stopped and debated your next move. 

“I-I’m gonna go home.” You turned on your heel, and walked in the opposite direction, leaving the man to watch you go back. You were scared, mostly, you didn’t know how to respond, and he was a stranger! You collected your breathing, as you were hyperventilating. Your feet hit the gravel heavily, you couldn’t wait to get home. You finally entered your home and slammed the door shut, making sure to lock every single lock. Slamming your bedroom door open, you tore off your clothes into a box under your bed. You groaned, in defeat, maybe your dad was right after all. You were too scared of the outside world, and the people asked so many questions! Overwhelmed, you decided to slip on a large shirt and go to sleep. Cuddling up under the sheets, your eyes slowly fell into slumber

—-------

Over the past few days, things were normal. Well, at least your version of normal.

Your father came home, but he was much more distant these days, not even giving you the usual spiel every morning, just leaving. You assumed he was more stressed as “smugglers” became more frequent. You didn’t understand it all, but every day you watched the people below, wishing you were them.

Knock. Knock knock. Knock. Knock

You stood up from your chair by the window, confused, as it was still day time, why was your father here? It was the secret knock, but it was far too early for him to be home. You warily made your way to the door, taking your time to unlock the many different forms of protection. As you opened the door, a foot was placed between the doorframe and the space open. You looked up, and you were met face to face with the man from earlier.

“Let me in, sugar.” You stood in shock, allowing him to push past your hold, and allow him in. He shut the door, loudly, behind him.

“Lovely home you have here…” He trailed about the apartment, hand rubbing against furniture and knick knacks.

“W-what are you doing here?” You backed up slowly, your mind racing, how did he know the knock? That was between you and your father only. 

“Can’t pay a visit to a friend?”

“I-I. I don’t understand...” You tried to hide the fear in your voice– keyword, tried. 

“Aw c’mon don’t act like that sweetheart. I see the way you look out that window, I know you’re all lonely here. I know you need someone. And that someone is me, darling.” He sounded deranged, the more he spoke, the weirder you felt. Why did he know so much about you? But, he was right, you were lonely. With no friends to call your own.

“How did you know the knock?” He chuckled and walked closer to you.

“Don’t worry about that sweetheart. Now, how about we go out?” You raised an eyebrow at this suggestion.

“Out?” He was close enough to touch you now, his boots slamming against the floorboards. He was putting his arm around you now.

“Yeah. You drink?” You shook your head, causing him to chuckle.

“‘Course you don’t. Well we can go back to my place and talk, I could make you some food. I got some books you could read.” He pulled you close to him. You looked up at him, a small smirk was on his face as he looked down. You slowly nodded, feeling your insides warm up. A friend! He might’ve been a little creepy, but he seemed so nice. You slowly pulled yourself out of his grip, his arm going up as you moved.

“L-Let me change, first.” You rubbed your hair nervously, and he took a seat, legs spreading wide.

“Take as long as you need to, sweetheart.” You nervously smiled and walked to your bedroom, your nerves making you forget to close the door all the way. You didn’t notice the eyes that watched you remove your shirt and pants.

—-------

You walked by the side of the larger man, you felt so small compared to him. You blurted out the first thing on your mind.

“You never told me your name.” He looked down at you, a small smile creeping on his face.

“Joel. What about you, sweetie?” You told him your name, to which he nodded. You kept looking around at all the people, some giving you a strange look. Joel eventually wrapped his arm around you, keeping you close to him. People never stopped staring at you, it made you slightly insecure. You knew you would stand out. Joel began to rub circles into your back, as if he knew what you were feeling.

Step by step, you grew closer to his apartment, making you nervous, what if you did something wrong? You never had to deal with people. As he pulled out a small key to unlock his door, your heart was thumping in your chest. 

“Home sweet home.” He let you enter first, and you took in the sight around you. It was much dirtier than yours, but not entirely his fault. Everything seemed to be used, or very old. You kept quiet as you eyed the room.

“Come, sit.” He said, very authoritatively. Your feet began walking towards him without any thought, you learned to obey commands like that with your father.

“You want any water?” As you sat, you muttered a small ‘yes please’, which prompted his hands to come up to your chin, making you look at him.

“What was that, sweets?” Your eyes widened slightly, he was very close to your face.

“Y-Yes Joel, please.” He let go, a satisfied smile on his face as he turned around to fix you a glass. Was this friendship? You didn’t know it would be so touchy, but I guess that was normal? You watched him pour the water into a small glass, your eyes fixated on his figure. 

“How old are you, Joel?” You swung your feet in the chair you sat in, waiting for him to come back.

“Well aren’t you curious.” He walked back with a glass of water for you, and a smaller glass of brown liquid for him. “I’m fifty-six. How ‘bout you?”

“Nineteen…” You didn’t realize he was much older than you, he was older than your father!

“Quite a big girl. And you don’t have a job?” Shaking your head, you felt slightly embarrassed.

“My dad won’t let me go out. Never got to go to school, or have friends even. You’re my first.” Joel’s cock twitched at your choice of words, but his demeanor remained nonchalant.

“That’s a shame sweetheart. You’re old enough to have a family, and your dad still won't let you leave?” You looked down, saddened at the reality.

“Does he know you left the house today?” You shook your head, prompting Joel to stand up.

“Such a bad girl. Leaving the home with a stranger.” He drew closer to you.

“I thought you were my friend.” A chuckle left his lips.

“Right. But you still left without permission. That makes you so naughty.” He lifted you up from your seat and made your legs wrap around him, making you jump a little at the touch of his hands against your ass. His face was so close to your own.

“Mmmm. You’re so pretty.” Your face was red, you felt tingly. His lips got close to your own. He placed them on top of yours, you just looked at him while his eyes closed and his tongue moved around. He pulled away and looked at you. He smiled to himself.

“You’ve never kissed anyone, have you?” You shook your head, and he brought you close to his face.

“Move your lips with mine, open your mouth slightly when you feel my tongue.” He whispered to you, softly. Again, he placed his lips against yours, but this time you followed his movements, his mustache tickling the top of your lip, making you giggle. He smiled against your lips before swiping his tongue against your bottom lip. You opened your mouth for him, as he said, and his tongue pushed through your mouth. His tongue swirled with your own, drool coming down your chin. You stayed like this for a while, his hands on your ass, holding you up, your mouths connected one another. He finally pulled away, your body feeling weird as you watched a trail of saliva connect the both of you. Joel put you down on the floor, allowing you to stand.

“Do friends usually do stuff like that?” Joel stayed quiet, for a moment, before nodding.

“Yes, but only friends like me and you. You can’t do that with anyone else, understand?” You nodded, his head patting yours.

“Good girl. Let's get you home before your daddy finds out you left.” 

“Okay Joel.”

—------

You had made it home before your dad came back, sighing in relief. Over the past few days, however, Joel managed to come shortly after your dad left. You two would go over to his home, talk, do more “friend stuff” as you liked to call it, and he would drop you off.

Today was no different. He knocked, normally, and you knew it would be him. Opening the door, his smile made one appear on your face.

“Joel!” You gave him a large hug, face buried into his beefy chest. He laughed and ruffled your hair.

“Hey sweetie. Look at you, all ready.” he pointed to your outfit as you pulled back, and it made you giggle. You wore jeans, a tight white shirt and a dark green zip up jacket.

“Mhm! I was waiting all morning for my dad to leave so we could hang out!” He laughed and bent down a little, to get to eye level with you.

“Where's my kisses, huh?” You smiled and closed your eyes to kiss him, his tongue slipping in, as you two sloppily kissed for about a minute. He pulled back up and wiped his lips, face looking very satisfied. You giggled at his expression.

“Let's go then, sugar.” He held out his hand for you to grab, which you did, and he led you out of the apartment.

The entire time walking to his home, you never failed to get weird looks. Joel gripped your hand, but you stared at your feet to try to ignore the looks.

“Don’t worry about them sweetheart, they’re jealous.” He led you to his apartment, and let you in. You walked towards the table but he stopped you.

“Come to my bedroom.” Your face was a little confused, but you trusted Joel. Without him, you would be friendless and still alone in your bedroom, rotting away. Following him to the bedroom, you noticed how different he was acting. He seemed more touchy, much more than usual, his hand rubbing your back as you walked in the room, and touching your leg as you sat down.

“I’m gonna teach you something important today.” You paused, very curious to what he was talking about.

“About what?” Your head cocked to the side.

“Male anatomy.” You stared at him with wide eyes, very intrigued at what he was talking about. Your father never taught you much about your own body other than periods. Let alone talking about the male body.

“Okay.” He smiled at you, his hand now on top of yours. He placed it on his lap.

“This right here,” His hand began to move around, your hand feeling a soft body part not attracted to anything. It moved around with your hand, which made him tense. “This is a cock. It’s what men use to go to the bathroom. But it has another purpose. It makes me feel very good.” You were so curious, but as your hand moved at the puppetry of Joel, the body part began to get stiff and harder. Joel groaned under his breath.

“And when I get excited, it gets hard.” You hummed, very intrigued at the idea of that happening.

“Do you wanna see it?” He whispered, your hand still moving against it. 

“Y-Yeah…” He moved your hand to the side and undid his belt, undoing the buttons, and finally unzipping his zipper. Moving his boxers out the way, his cock sprang out, making you jump. It was so. Big. Your eyes widened, you had never seen anything like this before.

“Woah… It looks. Big.” He chuckled at your comment, his cock twitching slightly.

“Give me your hand.” You looked at him, giving him your hand as he held it in his. He put your hand against his cock, your fingers wrapped around it. It was so warm. He moved your hand up and down, the head of his cock disappearing and reappearing under his foreskin. He groaned once more, you looked away from his cock to look at him, making sure it wasn’t hurting.

“Is this okay?” You were unsure of it all, worried that he didn’t like it.

“More than okay, baby. Fuck, you do this so good. But I know how you could make this better.” You stared at his features, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed, his eyes staring at your moving hand.

“How?”

He moved your hand and lifted you up from your seat on the bed, and placed you on the floor, ordering you to be on your knees. Your face was now at eyes-level with his cock, and you could see it much closer. The base was covered in hair, some gray ones mixed in between the black ones. There was a little bit of liquid dribbling out of a small hole at the top of it.

“Come here, princess.” His hand grabbed a fistful of hair, gently, and pushed you towards his cock. 

“Put your mouth on it. Kiss it like you do me.” Your eyes never left it, it was so large and warm, you remained curious about it. You brought your lips to it, and gave it a small kiss. He groaned, the grip on your hair slightly tighter. You began to move your lips across it, and you swirled your tongue around it, making Joel groan louder. You kept doing that, small amounts of drool tracing down his cock, the tip as wet as could be. Joel seemed to grow impatient or was just really excited because he slowly pushed your head down his length. Your mouth felt filled instantly, stretching to accommodate his size. You got no more than three inches down before you started to gag. You tried going back up, but he kept you down there.

“Stay like that, sweetheart, be a good girl for me.” You sputtered and drooled, gagging once more. You had tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but his hold on you was tight and firm. Eventually, he pulled your hair, making you move back up, making you cough from lack of air.

“You’ll get better at that eventually.” Joel grabbed your hair once more, and pushed your mouth back on his cock. He bobbed your head up and down, making sure not to go further than what you couldn’t take. You were drooling so much, his entire cock became wet over how much drool there was. His groans filled the room, bed creaking over how fast he moved you. You shut your eyes and tried to ignore the pain in your jaw, wanting to please your friend Joel. He suddenly pulled your hair back, very roughly, and his free hand began to jerk off in front of your face. You didn’t have time to question it before a semi-white liquid poured all over your face, and almost in your eyes. You flinched and closed your eyes as more of it sprayed on your face, jumping in surprise at each flick. It was warm, and the small amount that got into your mouth was salty. After Joel’s long moans seemed to quiet down, and you no longer felt sprays on your face, you opened your eyes to meet Joel’s. His hand reached your chin as he made you look slightly up towards him.

“Fuck… You look gorgeous sweetheart.” Your cheeks flushed at his words, you felt so confident whenever Joel complimented you. He got up for a second, then handed you a small rag.

“Wipe your face sweetie.” You took the rag, and noticed his cock was still out. While still large, it was smaller now, and more floppy, not as stiff as before. He pulled up his boxers and buttoned up his pants again. He sat down in front of you, your face now clean from his release. He pulled you up to sit on his lap.

“What was that at the end?”

“That's called cum. It happens when I get really excited and I reach the end. It feels really good.”

“Can I do that?”

“Well, not the same way I do. But yes, you can cum too. Not today though, that’s a lesson for another day.”

“Okay Joel….” You smiled and buried your head into his large chest, his hand petting your hair as you snuggled into him. You really liked Joel, your best friend. 

[jinkoh]

being selfish

jacob x gn!reader

part of my soulmate series

summary: jacob doesn't need a soulmate, after all he has you. so why do these marks have to show up on his body now?

tags: soulmate au (sharing bruises), established relationship, angst; SFW, warnings: vague non graphic descriptions of bruises

wc: 1.1k

a/n: i know i mentioned about sang being up next but then i finished jacobs part in time for his birthday so ofc he had to come first~

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When he spotted small bruises here or there, Jacob thought nothing of it. He must have bumped into something without noticing, these things happen. After all, he was already 27. If he had a soulmate, he would have known by now. And it wasn’t like he wanted one—he’d already found his home in you. He didn’t need fate to tell him that you were the one, he knew that well by himself.

However when a huge bruise appeared on his back, it got a little hard to find an explanation for it that wasn’t a soulmate he hadn’t been aware of. It threw him off, because he had long come to terms with the fact that he didn’t have one. He’d been a little disappointed about it as a child and a teenager, jealous of his friends who seemed to have these connections he could only dream of. But when he’d met you a few years ago, it almost seemed lucky, because you were the same, because you could find your soulmates in each other even without any shared bruises. But now it suddenly seemed like his long buried desire for a fated love was being answered to, way too late and without the choice to opt out. 

Jacob didn’t know what to do. What was the right path for a situation like this? He knew he had to tell you sooner or later, but the consequences scared him. Was it okay to stay with you despite having a soulmate? Would that be unfair to them? Would that be unfair to you? Jacob didn’t know.

To his dismay he couldn’t hide it for long. You were attentive enough to notice that he stopped changing in front of you and you saw the difference in the way he was looking at you. So really, it was a trick question when you let your fingers trace over his lower arm one evening, asking where the small bruise came from that he hadn’t even noticed himself yet.

He stared at you like a deer caught in headlights. It was quiet for a good five seconds before he could finally muster a reply. “I don’t know. Just…somewhere.” 

You gave him a small sad smile. “It’s someone else’s, isn’t it?”

Jacob pressed his lips together, unable to confirm it even when you clearly already knew. It pained him to see you look at him like that and he felt guilty for not having the courage to tell you first, putting you in a position where you had to puzzle the pieces together by yourself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Why are you sorry? Isn’t that good news? You have a soulmate, that’s a beautiful thing.” You clearly tried to smile, but your voice was shaking and there were tears in your eyes. Jacob felt like he was going to be sick.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated and his own voice sounded strained and unfamiliar.

“Isn’t it better to find out now? Imagine we would have gotten married already, that would have made things so complicated.” It was a horrible attempt at gallows humor, and the fact that Jacob had a small velvet box hidden away in his nightstand, waiting there from before he’d started noticing the bruises, only made it worse. He wanted to cry. Maybe he already was. If only he could have kept the secret a little longer, if only he could have lived in the pretense that there was only him and you for a few more weeks. Then he could have daydreamed about asking you to marry him instead of having to return the ring to the shop. He could have imagined what your wedding would be like and how you’d smile at him brightly while walking down the aisle. But of course you wouldn’t want to marry someone who had a soulmate waiting for him. It would be so unfair to expect you to stay with him while someone else’s bruises showed up on his skin. And it would be unfair to his soulmate too, because maybe they were eagerly looking forward to the day they’d meet and how awful would it be to find their soulmate already happily married? Maybe ending things was the only right thing to do, regardless of what Jacob wanted himself. 

He dropped his face into his hands, screwing his eyes shut in hopes not to cry, but his cheeks were already wet with tears.

“It’s okay,” you assured, your voice soothing even through your own tears. “I’ll be okay. And I’ll make it easy on you, I won’t make a scene.”

If he’d had a little more courage he would have said that he wanted you to make a scene, he wanted you to be angry and to fight and to tell him not to go. He didn’t want you to accept fate this easily and he couldn’t tell if it was your selflessness or if you couldn’t bear the thought of staying with him if a soulmate was part of the equation.

“How could it ever be easy on me?” He pressed out, lowering his hands to look at you.

“I know,” Your lower lip was trembling and your fingers found his wrist to rub circles into his skin that were either meant to soothe him or yourself. “I know. But just this once, think only about yourself, about what you want. It’s okay, Jacob. You can be selfish now.”

“Can I really?”

There were tears streaming down your face, but you still smiled when you gave him a small nod and the sight of it tore him apart inside. 

“Okay,” he said, cupping your cheeks and catching your tears with his thumbs, “I’ll be selfish.”

Then he leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours so carefully as if it was your first time.

“What are you doing?” you whispered in confusion when your lips parted.

“Being selfish,” he replied before he leaned in to kiss you again. “Didn’t you tell me to think only about what I want?”

“I did, but—”

“And what I want more than anything is to be with you. I don’t care about soulmates and shared bruises or whatever. It can never be worth losing you. So I’m staying.” He leaned his forehead against yours, “Please let me stay.”

At his words, new tears were welling up in your eyes and you barely managed to stop the sobs wanting to escape your throat. All this time, this had been what you wanted more than anything, but you’d been too scared to voice it, too worried about ruining his chances at happiness. But maybe this was enough for him, maybe he’d already found his happiness here with you.

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could. “Yes,” you pressed out through your tears, “Please stay.” 

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[rotworld]

25: Waking Nightmare

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

if you sleep, you'll dream. if you dream, you'll see him. if you see him, you will never be free.

->original work. explicit; contains non-con, graphic descriptions of violence, hard vore, terato, non-human genitalia, mind-altering magic.

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You can feel him all the time now. Not just when you close your eyes.

But it’s fine. That’s normal. It’s just residual magic. You get the same sticky cobweb feeling when you work with infernal pigments or walk by a Fundamentals of Magical Writing class in the first few weeks when people are still knocking their Stygian ink bottles over. That’s just how it works. If you dunk your head in a pool, you’ll drip for a while. Nothing weird or worrying about it. It’ll go away on its own.

You stay out late a lot these days. Not for any real reason, honestly, you’re just busy. And why hole up in your dark, quiet, isolated apartment when you could hit the town instead? There’s no time like the present to start enjoying clubs, concerts and all the dazzling nightlife Obelos has to offer. Your final exhibition is coming up and you’ve been working hard on getting those pieces ready, of course, but you need a break. Anyone would. It’s fine that you’re at the bar until it closes. It’s fine.

“You look tired,” people have started to say. 

Well, obviously. It’s grad school! Everyone’s tired. Someone pass the tube of crepuscular blue. You stand up straighter in front of your easel. If you focus, your hand will stop shaking. You yawn and it spreads like a virus. See? you say. How are those gallery applications coming along? 

The goetia double-major brags that they’re going great, actually, thank you so much for asking. “I’m in contact with the director of Gallery Decadentia,” she says casually, savoring the jealous glares and chorus of seething “Woooow, congratulaaaaations.” She’s become almost tolerable since securing a Benefactor-Patron. A little less smugness and a lot less tainting the communal workshop paints with subtle poison and then acting shocked and heartbroken when a classmate is out for a week with the worst flu of their life. 

“Have any tips for snagging a Patron?” somebody asks. 

She shrugs. “Study goetia. Honestly, I don’t know how else people do it nowadays. You’re out of luck unless you get into one of those really big expos. It’s that or somnarium painting.” 

“Didn’t you do that for a while?” 

The room gets quiet and you glance up from the stormy swirls forming on your canvas. Oh. They’re asking you. And now they’re staring, because your eyes are bloodshot and you keep tapping one of your hands against your thigh in an irregular rhythm to keep yourself alert and awake. You shrug. “For a little bit, yeah. It was good practice, I guess.” 

You sound dismissive and they’re all nodding. “It’s so kitsch. I don’t get it.”

“Ugh, I had to do a bunch in Dream Augury a couple years ago. Huge waste of time.” 

“I think they’re great,” someone says, terse. “It depends how you do it. Some of the greatest masterpieces of the Renaissance were somnarium paintings.” 

“That’s completely different.” 

“Yeah, the term actually meant something back then. You didn’t just splash some watercolor on the closest surface first thing in the morning and say it came to you in a dream.”

“Expos are better anyway,” the double-major says. “You don’t want a mare for a patron.” 

“Really? Why?” 

She raises a brow. “What happened to all those great somnarium painters of the Renaissance?”

“They didn’t all go missing, though.”

“Sure,” she scoffs. “A few of them died in their sleep.” She watches you carefully for a while but you don’t care. You’re focused on your work. You have nothing to hide. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

You go out for a while. Enjoy the noise and lights, the lively ambience. You grab coffee. You window shop. You take the scenic route home. It’s well past midnight and you’re nodding while trying to find your keys in your pocket. You feel him. He’s there when your eyelids flutter. You jolt upright and shove your keys in the lock and it’s fine, all fine. You lock the door behind you. It’s dark. The lights don’t work right. You keep changing out the bulbs and they keep dying to a barely-there glow, weaker than little flickering candles.

Paper crumples under your shoe. That happens a lot. Kind of unavoidable when you’ve got sketches all over the floor and tables and chairs and stuffed in the drawers and pasted on the walls. Some are quick, frantic pencil scribbles, some ink, some hazy with watercolor, some sharp and acrylic. They’re of everything. Shapes. People. Plants. Animals. Corpses. Hungry castles. Seashell staircases and stained glass forests. And deer—lots of deer. Herds of deer, fractal deer, deer metamorphosis, deer saints. Close-ups of long lashes and bar pupils. Antlers that grasp.

You set an alarm for one hour from now. There are twelve more after that just in case. You might not even sleep. You might just lay down and rest your eyes for a second and—

You blink and there’s a house. A big one. A small one. It keeps changing. Cabin, cottage, courtyard full of butterflies. There’s a garden arch covered in clinging green tendrils and flowers that glow like the moon. Well, that’s alright, you tell yourself. It happens. Maybe you were just a little more tired than you thought. You set the alarms. You’ll be alright. 

You step through the arch and into a rustic foyer; stone floor, wooden walls. Candles flicker. The hallway forks in three directions, each dark path lit only by a breadcrumb trail of flickering candles. You start walking. It doesn’t matter where. Open doorways line the hall, each room beckoning your attention with the beauty of full-bloom gardens, tranquil beaches and palatial bedchambers. Some are already occupied. The people inside sigh, and weep, and scream.

Here you are again, in the somnarium.

“Are you lost, sweetie?” 

Someone peeks out of a room up ahead. A man. A mare, probably. He’s wearing a guise but there’s an unnatural, subtle luminescence around him, a soft haloing glow as though he’s standing in front of a light. He leans in the open doorway, an arm bent against the frame, head cocked and smile alluring. Light, silky robes hang from his body like a draped toga, the fabric translucent so you can see the subtle outline of his figure beneath. 

“I’m not lost,” you insist. “I’m just…”

“Why don’t you come here? There’s always room for one more.” You see movement behind him. Squirming. Writhing. Bodies entangled, arched backs and thrusting hips; a shared dream of pleasure. Three humans kiss and caress one another. The glint of eyes in the dark tells you another mare is watching. The one at the door tilts your chin, returning your attention to his face. “Mm. What a sweet, sweet scent. But you’re a little too lucid for my tastes.” He sighs, patting your cheek. “Run along now. I’m sure someone will be very happy to see you.”

You keep walking. The hall never seems to end, splitting into even more maze-like paths. There are spiral staircases and cellar doors, windows to other worlds. You keep moving because that’s better than standing still. You looked it up. Mares prefer ambush to pursuit, but that doesn’t mean they won’t go on the hunt if they want something badly enough. 

You see a nightmare of being lost in one room you pass. A man stumbles down a winding mountain path in hiking gear, shivering in the frigid wind. You just barely glimpse the mare—an elongated silhouette slinking through the trees. Across the hall, a woman dreams of a labyrinthine college campus and a classroom she can’t find and a mare follows closely behind her, nipping at her heels, hissing that she’s going to fail this class. 

Further on, a shared nightmare of being chased has ended and the mares feast on their quarry. Your stomach churns at the sight and sound of gushing blood and cracking bone, the squelch of disembowelment. The dreamers struggle but they’ve already lost. They are always weaker than the hunters in their dreams, always too slow to outrun them. Some are shocked awake immediately, vanishing from the somnarium and leaving pouting mares behind. 

But some linger, screaming for help and for mercy that’s never coming beneath their vicious attention. The mares wrench limbs from their sockets. They rip chunks of flesh from chests and thighs and lick the blood from their clawed fingers. They reach into the ragged, gaping wounds they make and shudder in delight at the fear their prey feels, the helplessness, the despair. Frenzied, their guises flicker and slip, revealing the wispy, protean strangeness beneath. They are ungulates—goats but not, caribou but wrong, spider-horses and centipede-deer. They move in ways they shouldn’t. Their bodies can’t decide how many legs to have and their faces are a constant shift of beauty and incomprehensible horror.

You see someone try to crawl away, shrieking in mindless terror when a mare pounces on their back. It stabs straight through their shoulder, staking them to the ground with a spear-like hoof. It rips at their clothes with its teeth and stomps their legs when they try to wriggle free, pummeling flesh and shattering bone. More legs—thin and spindly, sometimes hands, sometimes claws and pincers—emerge from its body to shove their head into the dirt and raise their hips. It makes itself a long, flat-headed cock already hard and drooling precum, grinding the grotesquely large organ against its prey’s backside. 

“Hello, pet.” 

You freeze when a hand seizes your shoulder and a warm, firm body presses against your back. Human, but only to the torso. You didn’t hear his hooves but you feel them now, knocking against your ankles. “Aelius,” you stammer. “I—”

“Do not speak.” He moves around you, his hand sliding from shoulder to the other as he circles around to stand between you and the doorway, his fingers hooking beneath your chin. He is calm and collected, unchanging in contrast to the constantly shifting nightmares gorging themselves behind him. You see a large deer-centaur, the lower body piebald with spots and patches of brown and white. Long white hair spills over one shoulder and down his back, the enormous antlers crowning his head tangled with climbing vines and pale blue flowers. Red eyes flick up and down, scrutinizing you. 

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. Sounds of violence and lust—blood, hunger and ecstatic moans—emanate from the room behind him. When you start to squirm, he licks his lips.

“You have been avoiding me,” he says, low and dangerous. You start to insist that you weren’t, you’d never, you know better, and he squeezes your jaw. “Do. Not. Speak,” he hisses. “And do not ever lie to me again. Such impudence.” He drags you closer, his grip on your face forcing you onto your toes. He smirks in satisfaction at the small whimper you let out. “But that is part of your charm. Come.” 

He lets go of you and steps over the threshold, his form rippling as he enters the room. He stops to look back over his shoulder, his cold gaze warning you that his patience is short tonight. You follow reluctantly, entering the nightmare of devouring. He walks slowly and through the center of the carnage, forcing you to walk through unwound ropes of intestine and splayed, partially skeletonized limbs. You know where Aelius is going. You see the rutting mare ahead, back legs spread as it thrusts wildly into the captive, impaled body in front of it. You don’t want to get any closer but he looks back sharply when you stop moving. 

“Come here,” he growls. He’s appeased by your rush to obey but only slightly. He grabs your arm and drags you closer, forcing you to stand beside him. You’re right next to the other mare, so close that you could reach out and touch its flank. You can see the dreamer’s distend around its cock, abdomen bulging obscenely with every thrust. They shudder and moan weakly in pain, fingers tangled in the grass and dirt. Every time they start to sag and go limp, close to waking, the mare twists the dagger-like limb in their shoulder and makes them scream. 

Aelius grabs you by the hair when you turn away, yanking until your scalp is burning and you let out a wounded noise. 

“You may speak,” he says. “And you will tell me what drove you to such petty mischief. Do not look away.”

You inhale shakily. You do what he asks, even though the sights and sounds of the mare’s relentless thrusts make your stomach turn. “I…I want you to let me go.” 

He chuckles, his grip loosening. He massages your scalp instead as a reward for your obedience. “Let you go?” he purrs. “Whatever do you mean by that?” 

You swallow nervously. Is he going to try and deny it? Bored of the dreamer’s quiet resignation, the mare bends its front legs, the front of its body resting heavily on their back. Its thrusts slow to harder, deeper pounding, long pauses between movements leaving it fully hilted in the dreamer’s trembling body. You hear their breath turning to strained wheezes. 

“I don’t dream about anything else anymore,” you say. “I always come here.” 

“Such things aren’t unheard of. Many humans prefer my somnarium to aimless wandering, or the predations of other demons.” 

He’s going to make you say it. Why? Because it scares you? Because you know, deep down, what’s been happening all along but didn’t want to believe it? You take a deep breath. “I can feel you. Even when I’m awake. I can feel your magic on me.” 

The mare looks at you and your breath hitches. Its face is mostly human but there are flickers of other things, a fogginess to its features. It looks at you and in that moment it knows everything you want most and everything you’re afraid of. Its eyes narrow. It licks its lips. It keeps looking at you as it spills inside the dreamer, heavy balls pressed against their ass. A slow dribble of cum leaks from their abused entrance, dark blue and glittering like the night sky. 

“Oh? Is that so?” Aelius asks, stroking your arm. “And why might that be?” 

“Because…” 

The mare pauses for a moment. It’s not resting. It doesn’t need to because it’s not tired. It waits for the human to go completely limp, to exhale finally, to close their eyes and try desperately to will themselves awake. That’s when it starts to pull, dragging itself inch by inch out of their body, all the way to the tip and letting a gush of thick, frothing cum gush down their thighs. Then it slams back in, savoring their hoarse, rasping scream, and starts to fuck them again.

“Because you’re Entrancing me,” you whisper. 

You looked it up. It’s a slow, subtle thing, easy to miss until you’re in the throes of it. First, you’re tired. You want to sleep more often. Then sleep always brings you to the same somnarium, and your dreams always push you into the arms of the same mare. Then you feel it—intrusions in your mind. Whispers and suggestions, gentle nudges. Thoughts that feel like yours but aren’t. It takes a long time for a mare to get so far in your head that it starts to leak into your waking life, but once Entrancement has set in, it can take months or even years to fully break.

The more you see him and the more he feeds, the worse it’ll be. You already respond to his touch, unable to stop yourself from leaning into his hand stroking your cheek.

“The modern age is so vexing at times,” Aelius muses. “Once, you would have needed to consult an oracle or an experienced infernal scholar to even hear that word and understand what it entailed. It matters not. You are already mine. And is that not what you asked of me?” 

You wanted security. You wanted to stop worrying about your bills and tuition and the staggering cost of infernal pigments. You wanted to know you would be alright in the end, no matter what happened. “I asked if you would be my Patron,” you say.

He smiles and leans in, bending down to be closer to eye level with your thumb caught between his fingers. “And I said I would,” he murmurs. “Gladly I would, to ensure your brush is ever wet with the finest paints, so long as you paint for me. Of course I Entranced you. You belong to me.” 

You think he’s going to kiss you. You hold your breath, waiting for it. Hoping, despite everything. It frightens you to want him this much. But instead he chuckles and pulls away, straightening to his full height. 

“Now, this is the scene you will paint for me when you wake.” He gestures to the smirking mare who arches seductively as though posing for you, its hips still snapping against its captive prey. “Look carefully,” Aelius says, grasping your shoulders. He stands right behind you, pressing his toned chest against your back. “Pay close attention. The light. The color. The movement. You will be rewarded for your attention to detail. Perhaps, someday…” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. “Someday, I will ask you for a self-portrait in the same style.” 

Loud, shrill noise makes you gasp and bolt upright. You wake up in bed, in the dark. You grope for your phone on the bedside table, stomach sinking when you see you slept through four of your alarms. You can feel him, even now. You can feel the weight of his gaze and the ghostly caress of his hands. You don’t know what you’re going to do. Is there someone you can tell? Someone who can help you? You know someone in the Goetia Studies Department. Maybe she—

Your heart skips a beat. You sit up slowly, pulling your leg back from the hard surface it just bumped into. There, at the foot of your bed, is a canvas and a collection of brand new infernal paint.

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖊𝖓

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building except for Brio.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: swearing, mentions of scars, death, and pain, injury, kissing, overall angst

A/N: fun fact: the beginning part (which is a dream) is based off a dream i had the other day where i was chasing Luke thru the woods lmaooo

“This isn’t fair!” you yelled, your legs screaming in protest as you picked up your pace.

Luke laughed loudly, also increasing his speed. The dirt trail meant that with each step, he kicked up dust, effectively making your eyes water. 

“I thought you said you could catch me, angel,” he called out tauntingly. “What happened to all your confidence?”

“Fuck you!” you said with a fake angry tone. “You’re going too fast, you know you’re better at running than me, can you at least slow down a little?”

This just made Luke laugh harder, and he glanced over his shoulder to give you a grin. 

Gods, he made you feel so many things.

“What, you can’t handle the challenge and need me to make it easier for you so you can win?” he asked teasingly. 

“No, that’s not what I meant,” you huffed, trying to hide the fact that you were completely winded.

“Sure, whatever you say, baby,” Luke said, clearly not convinced. You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm, but couldn’t prevent yourself from smiling. You really did love playfully bantering with him.

Channeling all of your remaining energy, you charged towards your boyfriend. You leapt onto his back, making him yelp in surprise. 

“What in Hades?” he asked, bewildered. You just smiled, resting your chin on his shoulder as he hooked his arms under your thighs. “Has my lovely girlfriend been possessed by a gremlin or something?” 

You gasped dramatically. “How dare you assume such an awful thing, Castellan?” You slung your arms around his neck, enjoying the feeling of your bare skin on his. 

Luke turned his head to peck you on the cheek. “I know, I know, I’m the worst, aren’t I?”

You giggled, holding onto him tighter. “Yeah, you are.”

He set you down gently, and turned to face you. His cheeks were slightly flushed from being relentlessly chased by you through the woods, but other than that, he didn’t seem tired at all. Perks of being the son of the messenger god, apparently.

You sighed, looking up at him adoringly. “This isn’t fair,” you said once again.

Luke’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been running for so long and you still look perfect. In comparison, I probably look about as good as Medusa with a bad case of bead-head.”

Luke scoffed. “That’s so far from true. You look as pretty as ever.”

Before you could protest, he wrapped one of his large hands around the back of your neck gently, connecting his lips with yours. You melted into the kiss, reaching up to grip his strong shoulders. Thankfully, you were deep enough in the woods that it was unlikely that any other campers would see your intimate moment. You never did anything quite this intense while in the presence of others, as you didn’t want to get lectured by Chiron and Mr. D.

You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the moment. You were completely at peace…

Until Luke let out a blood-curling scream.

When you opened your eyes, you saw him being dragged away by Ladon, the dragon’s claws creating gruesome wounds in his skin. 

“No!” you shrieked, immediately flying after him. But before you could get close enough, one of Ladon’s heads opened its mouth and released a gust of fire, setting your body ablaze. 

You plummeted to the ground, helpless as you watched your boyfriend be ripped to pieces by a monster.

You kept falling for what seemed like an eternity, bracing yourself for the bone-shattering impact that you knew was to come. 

When your body finally hit the ground, everything faded all at once.  

.

.

.

“She’s waking up! Someone get Brio or Will, quickly!”

“Keep your voice down, you’re gonna scare her! You know how dangerous startling her can be!“

“You keep your voice down, you’re the one shouting-“

“Everyone, shut up!”

You groaned quietly, the noises surrounding you immediately giving you a headache. As you slowly regained consciousness, a searing pain bloomed in your abdomen, making you cry out. Your eyes snapped open, and you saw Brio Olarei, a son of Apollo, standing over you with bandages in his hand.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I need to lift up your shirt to re-wrap your stomach. You got a pretty nasty cut, and your ribs were cracked.”

“Great,” you muttered. “What else?”

“Well,” Brio began slowly. “You’ve been out for almost four days.”

You blinked. “You’re fucking kidding.”

“No, I’m not,” Brio said, removing the old bandages from your torso. “Teleporting all the way from the west coast to the east drained you enormously.”

You suddenly felt a wave of nausea overtake you, realizing that your encounter with Ladon and the Hesperides hadn’t been a dream. 

You began to sob, not caring that you were in the presence of the others who worked in the infirmary.

You had failed your mission.

But even worse, you had failed Luke.

Brio did his best to calm you down, but nothing really worked. Tears kept spilling down your cheeks, and you didn’t even try to stop them. He applied a salve to your wounds that helped ease the pain, and re-wrapped them quickly. 

“I’ll do anything I can to help you with your recovery,” the healer said warmly. “You’ll need to stay in the infirmary for another few days to make sure your injuries don’t get worse.”

You avoided his gaze, not caring to respond to his words. Instead, you asked,

“Where’s my boyfriend?” 

Brio swallowed. “He’s fine. He was in rough shape when we found you two at the border, but he made a quicker recovery than expected. He got released from the infirmary last night, but he refused to leave. We had to have him forcibly removed because it’s really busy in here, and even then, he still insisted on waiting outside of the building-“

As if on cue, none other than Luke Castellan burst through the wooden doors of the building. Nobody really tried to stop him as he rushed over to you, kneeling at your beside. His pretty brown eyes swarmed with tears, and you could tell he hadn’t been sleeping at all.

But the most startling thing you observed was the angry red scar on the right side of his face. 

“Oh, Luke…” you whispered, reaching out to cup his cheek. Luke cringed slightly, but allowed you to touch him regardless. 

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “It’ll heal up. But it won’t ever fully fade.”

“Oh, Luke, I am so sorry-“

“It’s not your fault, angel. What’s important is that we’re both okay.”

You took his hand, rubbing circles on his palm with your thumb. “For a moment, I was worried that you…you were dea-“

“I know,” he cut in. “I was worried sick about you too. Fuck, I even prayed to Apollo, begging him to aid you in your recovery.”

You sighed. You knew that if Luke went as far as praying to the gods, he really was concerned. 

“Brio said that I’ll be fine. I just…need more recovery time than you did. Not only did I sustain injuries from the fight, but the teleportation also did quite a number on my body.“

Luke ran a hand through your hair, caressing the top of your head. “I wish it hadn’t affected you so badly, but I’m eternally grateful that you did what you did. You saved our lives.” He stood up, to lean down and place a kiss on your forehead. “You’re my hero.”

You smiled weakly. “You’re more of a hero than I’ll ever be.” 

“Nonsense,” Luke said, shaking his head. “You were so brave, taking on Ladon like that while you were seriously injured.”

“I wouldn’t call it bravery,” you replied. “I’d call it determination to keep you safe.”

He sighed. “Either way, I’m just so relieved you’re gonna be okay.” He took a deep breath, looking down. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost you…”

You reached up to wipe a stray tear that began running down his cheek. “I have no doubt that you would tear the world apart. You probably would’ve marched down to the Underworld and demanded Hades to give me back, just like Orpheus.”

Luke laughed quietly. “I would’ve moved mountains to reunite with you, my angel.”

You hummed appreciatively, closing your eyes once more. You felt drained, despite only having been awake for a handful of minutes. 

Luke called Brio over, who handed you a bottle of water and a small pill. 

“This will help you sleep,” Brio explained, helping you sit up slowly. You whimpered as your ribs screamed in protest at the movement. Luke squeezed your hand reassuringly, promising that the searing pain would subside soon.

You swallowed the pill and took a few sips of water. The son of Apollo turned to look at Luke.

“If you want to stay at her bedside, that’s fine. Just don’t get in the way of any of the healers and-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Luke said impatiently. “I won’t cause any trouble, I swear.”

A son of Hermes promising he wouldn’t cause trouble would normally raise some red flags, but in a situation as serious as this, he clearly meant what he’d said.

Brio gave you one last look before walking away, and you swore you could see pity in his eyes. You despised pity, it made you feel weak and stupid, which you knew you weren’t. 

Luke pulled up a chair and sat next to your bed. He immediately laced his fingers with yours. “Is there anything I can get you, angel?” 

You thought for a moment. “Yeah. Can you get me my stuffed bat from Cabin 11?”

Luke smiled. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

When he returned a couple minutes later, you were barely awake. The medicine had kicked in, and all you wanted was sleep.

Luke placed the stuffie in your arms, and draped the infirmary bed’s comforter over your body. “I’m not leaving your side until you’re fully healed.”

You frowned. “But you have duties as head counselor.”

“Fuck that,” Luke said dismissively. “You’re more important. Chris can take over for me.” 

You sighed. “Where are you gonna sleep?” 

“Right here.”

“Luke-“

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly. “After what happened at the Garden, I swore to myself that I’d never let you out of my sight ever again.”

Knowing you couldn’t persuade him to change his mind, you nodded. Clutching your stuffed animal to your chest, you let your eyes fall shut. Luke still had a tight hold on your hand. It seemed like he believed if he let go of you, he’d lose you forever.

With your beloved by your side and the medicine in your bloodstream, you were able to drift off into a peaceful state of rest.

________________________________________________

After three long days, Brio finally deemed you recovered. Well, at least recovered enough to leave the infirmary and start sleeping in Cabin 11 again.

You were instructed to take it extremely easy. No sparring, no archery, nothing that was even remotely physically taxing. You were also told to apply a healing salve nightly on the long cut Ladon had given you. You didn’t even remember getting scratched by him, but you figured it had happened right as you teleported away. 

At least the poison hadn’t spread too far throughout your skin. Otherwise, you probably wouldn’t have survived.

The scar, which was still an angry shade of red, went from your left hip across your torso to the right side of your neck. It was ugly and quite gruesome, and every time you looked in a mirror, you almost burst into tears. 

You felt like you’d taken several steps backwards in your progression as a person. You felt depressed and angry, your hatred for the Olympians growing with every day that passed.  

And being so fragile frustrated you greatly. Not being able to participate in the daily camp activities or practice your fighting put you on edge. The pitiful glances the other campers constantly threw your way made it even worse. It became so hard for you to control your temper that at some point, you stopped leaving Cabin 11 except for meals and to shower. Whenever you were out and about, you had to refrain from snapping at every person who tried to talk to you. Even your closer friends, like Chris and Annabeth, seemed nervous around you, not wanting to get on your nerves.

Luke was the only one you let your guard down with. There were even times where you refused to speak to anyone else but him. 

You suspected that you were trauma-bonded to each other. Every time Luke wasn’t by your side, you felt terrified. You worried that he’d suddenly be ripped away from you, and you’d be powerless to stop it, just like the nightmare you’d had just before waking up in the infirmary.

If you thought Luke was protective of you before, you had no words to describe what he was now. 

At times, he felt like your personal bodyguard. If someone even looked at you funny, he’d place a hand on the hilt of his sword and glare at them until they practically ran away. He almost always had a strong arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, guiding you to wherever you needed or wanted to go. He doted on you as if you were a princess, opening doors for you and taking over any chores you were assigned. 

“Let me handle it, angel,” he would say, giving you an affectionate pat on the head. 

But even though he was sweet and gentle with you, he became more withdrawn with everyone else. 

You always knew he had some anger issues, but had managed to keep them suppressed most of the time. However, ever since he’d been released from the infirmary, it didn’t seem like he cared about keeping them at bay.

Just like you, he was furious at all of the gods, especially Hermes.

He was still polite, but he had adopted a cold, less-than-friendly demeanor. He followed through with his duties as a camp counselor, but was much less patient with the other demigods. His voice always seemed to have a hint of bitterness in it. The scar that ran down the right side of his handsome face made him even more intimidating.

Sometimes, he seemed like a completely different person.

But with you, he was still Luke. Your Luke.

And you hoped more than anything that he’d stay that way.

taglist: @orionspaperwork, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @marvelescvpe, @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry, @louweasleymalfoy, @stars4birdie, @stargurl-battleship, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @have-a-nice-day-k

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments!!!

The next chapter will take place months after the quest occurred…

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[sorryimananti-romantic]

Hey bestie sooooo lots of stuff happened and there was an opportunity I was really hoping I was gonna get, and I didn’t. On top of that it went to the same favorite people that get everything every time and I’ve just been feeling really upset and everything so if you’ve got any mingi comfort that would be great. I could just really use a lil virtual hug rn 😅. There’s a bunch of other stuff that led up to this but now im just feeling really hopeless and wanting to give up on my major even though it’s my dream. I think I kinda need to just sit and wallow for a bit and I’ll be fine but if you got any fluff I could use all of it 😅🩷

aw babes i'm sorry to hear that 😭🫂 you and me both honestly really need a virtual hug (nah a real hug actually) and well, i hope you get much better things than what you were aiming for! we never know where the flow of life is gonna take us so hoping for the best for you, always 🩷 and i hope you fight for your dream too! if you want to talk about it, i'm here for you 🩷

a mingi comfort fluff though, who am i to deny you? ;)

there are times in your life when all you want to do is lay down on a bed and sink through it into the void

or lay down on soft grass and hope the ground swallows you

you put a weight over yourself in the form of your blanket- the only physical thing weighing you down among a bunch of other invisible things

but that isn't enough

the warmth of it, the softness of it, it isn't enough

everything is silent. you can hear the static background noise- that's how quiet it is

could this go on forever while you gather your pieces together?

could time stand still for you?

no.

it never will

you're being swallowed by a bunch of thoughts

i'm alone in this world

no one will understand me

everything is over

there's no going back from here

and a bunch of other negative phrases that are murky in your head, but there in all their mighty presence

it feels like everything you've worked for is crumbling down in front of your eyes

everything is going wrong, wrong- where did it all start to go wrong?

you can't quite put a finger to it

all you know is that you are overwhelmingly sad.

the emotion 'sad' didn't make much sense to you- you always thought it was associated with some other emotion or feeling- such as when you lose someone dear and it's associated with grief

but now... you think you're starting to understand a little what's it like to be just sad. the plain old sad

it springs a little sarcastic laugh out of you and you have to purse your lips to keep another awful sound from bubbling out of you

but this time, your ears detect the familiar sound of footsteps in the house and you wonder just how deep in your thoughts you were to miss the sound of the door unlocking

you don't move. you don't make an effort to. you just hope that he goes to take a shower first or starts cooking. you hope he doesn't realise you're home already

you hope you get a little time to yourself so he doesn't have to see you in this state-

but a knock sounds on the door anyway and his voice calls your name, his eyes probably searching the darkness

you hope that he misses your curled figure in the blankets, but he's far too observant for that

he doesn't turn on the lights. you feel the edge of your bed dip as he sits there

"you're not hiding from me... are you?"

it's mingi. you could cry just hearing his voice

"no... just tired. i'll be out in a few minutes."

he doesn't miss the crack in your voice either

"do you want me to give you some space, or do you want me to stay?"

there's one thing you love about mingi. he always asks you what you need

and he always gives you what you ask for

if it's space you need, he will gladly give you it because he realises the importance of personal space and just sorting your own mess yourself

he won't question you until you talk yourself but he will keep reminding you that he's here

he's perfect in that way

but if it's him you need... he'll drop everything to be with you too

he'll either just hold you in silence or mutter affirmations

and for the first time in a while, you don't know what you need

so you tell him exactly that

mingi sighs deeply and gets up. you wonder if he's going to leave so you check through the little gap in the blanket, your heart beating anxiously

but he only draws the curtains apart just a fraction so he can see better

and then he's back, crawling in the bed next to you and asking if he can get in the blanket with you

you allow it. you scoot a bit to give him some space and he positions the blankets so he can hold you in his arms as he lies down next to you

you're slower this time as you make way to him and he notices that too. so he simply just holds you for a while

and you let the tears flow and wet his sweatshirt. you will apologise later, but for now, you can't stop it

his hand caresses your back repeatedly in soft, circular motions. his other hand is holding yours and squeezing it affectionately

you don't know how long you stay like this but at some point, the tears stop flowing and you move a little to wipe your face

"sorry for being a mess," you laugh and he lets out a short chuckle himself

"you know it's perfectly fine with me," he assures you, planting a kiss on the top of your head. "feeling better?"

"a bit, yeah," you tell him. you take a few deep breaths

"what's wrong, love?"

"everything," you sigh. "everything's going wrong at the same time and it's too much, mingi."

mingi brings you back in a hug, this time stronger and a reminder that you're not alone

and you realise that yes- you may have been a little selfish when thinking that you were truly alone in this world

you have him

your constant source of strength, a pillar to lean on

someone who always nudges you in the right direction when you're lost

someone whose words of wisdom heal you

and someone who makes you laugh, especially when he's being goofy like now

"shall we take that little trip now? drop everything and run away?"

"oh, how i wish i could, but i can't run away from this," you sigh.

and just like that, you start talking. slowly, but gradually, you tell him the sequence of events

and he gives you the validation you need- that everything you're feeling right now... it's okay to feel that

he makes you sit in front of him and he holds your hands as you work everything out

he gives objective answers- he knows your strengths and weaknesses, and he suggests the best course

he also plans every possible direction things could go from here on out- something he's really good at

"and like i always say... it can only get better from here, right?"

"sure feels like an all time low, so... yeah?" you say.

"every time i think i'm at an all time low, life throws another one at me"

you laugh at that- he's relatable like this

"well... it can't get worse than this, maybe, yeah?"

"and even if something bad happens," mingi addresses the anxiety in your heart. "even if things don't go as planned and you have to give up something important, you should remember that you're a strong person who can get through this."

you nod, letting his words sink in

"i'm here for you, yes," he says, "but i'm only a guide and emotional support, yeah? whatever you do, it's all you. and you're incredible and amazing. you will get through this. i'm proud of every decision you will make moving forwards. i believe in you, love."

it's all you need to hear and a few tears spill again, but you smile through them as you look at mingi, the dark strands falling over his forehead, his eyes warm

mingi, the person who makes you stand on your own two feet time and time again

mingi, who makes you realise that you can face anything in this world on your own

and mingi, who'll be there when you return from your battles. who'll patch you up, kiss your head and hug you

just like he hugs you now, all warmth and love

he brings you outside so you can eat dinner and it gets better

you don't feel like you're drowning anymore

you're not out of that surface, no, but it's a whole lot better for sure

he talks to you and you address other things in between jokes and kisses exchanged

and when it's time for bed, he holds you, preparing you for tomorrow

it will be okay

you will be okay.

[of-house-atreides]

Once Upon a Dream | Miguel O'Hara x reader

Summary: you've been dreaming of a man for months, another Spider-Person, just as lonely as you...

A/N: please note that English is not my first language and I'm sorry for any mistakes you can find -

Warnings: none?

Words: 1743

I want to thank my beta readers @ohantonia and @bloodredwolfsbane 🩷

You woke up once again gasping for air. Tears escaped your eyes and found their way down your cheeks. Loneliness wrenched your heart, like it always did, after he visited you in your dreams.

It was happening more frequently. Almost every night now. And when he didn’t come, you went looking for him. Sometimes finding him in a state of despair that broke your heart. You could never touch, although you were dying to hold him in your arms. You could never speak, your words like whispers fading away before they could reach him. It was like you were separated by an invisible wall. But he kept coming back. And you could feel he missed you, and you hoped he could feel you missed him too. You started wishing you could spend your life in your dreams, with him. Tell him everything was going to be okay. You didn’t know what had happened to him, but you felt everything he did. His eternal sadness. The gaping wound in his chest that left him screaming in pain in his sleep. In your dreams. He was so lonely. And maybe that was why he was coming to you. Maybe his loneliness matched yours.

You sat up with a sigh, wiping the tears away. Like every morning, doubt seized you. Was it even real? Or were you going crazy? The tall Spider-Man, the large man with his dark curls and red eyes. Fangs like a vampire. The bright red and blue suit that he never took off, like an armor. Maybe you were imagining him. Maybe it was just your subconscious manifesting your need and want for another spider-person like you. For someone to talk to. Someone to share your life with. Someone to fill that hole in your chest. Like he needed someone to fill his. But like every morning, you chose to trust yourself, your instincts. You chose to believe. You chose him.

That day was like every other. Crawling around your neighborhood, everyone knew you had a routine, and you could make sure everyone behaved. The crime rate had lowered since you became Spider-Woman. The one good thing that came of it. You didn’t like being Spider-Woman. You didn’t ask for it, and you wouldn’t have chosen it for yourself had you been given a choice. And as a woman of science, you foolishly thought you would be able to find a cure. You never did. And you’d given up on that idea after a while. After you saved an old woman from a robber. After you saved a little girl from being crushed by a truck. After you saved a bus full of people.  You had power that could do some good. Who were you to ignore that?

You had had a pretty uneventful day, even for a doctor in a hospital. But everything you did, you did with him on your mind. He followed you everywhere. Every room you stepped in, you looked for him. Hoped for him. And every time he wasn’t there, it broke your heart in more tiny pieces.

You changed out of your scrubs and closed your locker with a sigh. You closed your eyes, tried to picture him, imagined what it would be like to walk out of the hospital and have him waiting for you outside. You tried not to think about it too long. It only hurt more when you let yourself hope like that. You weren’t delusional. The man in your dream was just that, a man in your dream.

You stepped out of the locker room, ready to go home, when, suddenly, the hair on your arms rose and chills ran across your body. You knew that feeling. Something bad was about to happen.

You felt the ground shake before you heard the explosion.

“What was that?!” you heard a nurse ask from behind the counter under which she was hiding. 

Behind her, through the large windows, you could see black smoke emanating from the Alchemax lab across campus. The damage seemed catastrophic. You hurried towards the scene, taking advantage of the chaos to change into your sky-blue suit, and landed near the hole in the roof of the lab. You coughed as you stepped closer to the smoke. It was so thick you couldn’t even see the fire below. You decided to carefully make your way down and were relieved to see everyone had somehow managed to escape. You navigated the cloudy, unfamiliar and dangerous environment, trying to locate the flames, but it seemed they had already disappeared. Gradually, the smoke dissipated, and you found yourself alone in the mess, thankful no one had been around when the explosion occurred. Slowly, however, you started to spot a tall figure before you, as the smoke vanished around him.

“It’s dealt with. No. He wasn’t there.”

The man spoke to a device on his wrist resembling a big smartwatch. He had his back turned to you but still, there was no mistaking him. That tall and large figure, that bright red and blue suit, those dark curls... A gasp escaped you, alerting him of your presence. He turned around swiftly. And there they were. Those red eyes. Looking right at you.

His face dropped as his eyes grew bigger. The air stuck in his throat as he stared at you dumbfounded. Neither of you dared to move, too afraid you would wake up and be alone once again.

“It’s you,” he breathed.

You slowly removed your mask, so he could see you as you saw him. A tear fell down his cheek, and you were dying to wipe it away, to take his face in your hands and kiss them all away.

“You’re here,” you said in a whisper.

Desperate to touch him, you held out your hand, slowly, as if he were a small animal you could scare away. It felt like forever, waiting for the other to move, but he took your hand and you felt like melting away.

“Oh, you’re here,” you cried as you hurried towards him and buried your head in his chest.

Instantly, he enveloped you in his strong arms, his cheek coming to rest on the top of your head. He held you tight, as you did, tighter even. You couldn’t believe it. He was here. Not only was he real, but he was here! You moved away to look up at him. Just the sight of him filled that hole in your chest. You brought your hands to his face, but he was so tall, you had to tiptoe. He made it easier for you, falling to his knees before you. He was there, at your feet, finally face to face, and you finally felt alive. Alive and awake. After all this time. Months of sharing dreams, months of delusions, months of craving him. At last, you were touching him. Your thumbs stroked his cheeks as you smiled down at him, leaning your forehead against his.

“You’re real,” he sobbed.

“So are you,” you laughed, and he nodded.

“I thought...”

“Me too,” you reassured him. “But I knew.”

“So did I. From the beginning. Always.”

“Me too,” you sniffed.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he moved to look at you, and you realized there was so much about each other you didn’t know. You answered him. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“What’s your name?”

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara.”

“It’s good to finally meet you, Miguel.”

“You too, mi amor.”

A small laugh escaped you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your nose in his hair. It felt so good to finally be able to touch him, to embrace him, to be embraced by him. 

“Where have you been all this time?” you asked in a whisper.

“I-... it’s complicated.”

“We’ve been sharing dreams for months, I’ll believe anything you tell me,” you promised, looking back at him, caressing his cheek with your knuckles.

He chuckled as he took your hand in his. “I’m from another universe,” he said, and somehow it wasn’t that hard to believe. “I created an… organization for people like us from around the multiverse. We were chasing down an anomaly, I followed it here.”

The implication was clear. You had been sharing dreams, but not a universe. But you had overcome the first, you could overcome the latter.

“So... you’re not from my world?”

“No.”

“So, then... you’re not staying...” you murmured as you moved closer to him, your fingers nervously playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before taking your chin between his fingers. “See this watch? It allows me to go anywhere I want, travel to any universe. I'll give you one, so you can come visit me all the time, even stay with me if you want.”

“I want,” you nodded eagerly, gripping the collar of his suit, brushing your nose against his. “I really, really want.”

“Good,” he said with a bright smile before he pressed his lips against yours.

He took you by surprise, but you wouldn’t complain. You moaned against his mouth, sliding your fingers in his curls and he groaned as you fisted your hands in his hair. He kissed you until you couldn’t breathe, just to take your breath away again. And again. And again. Eventually, he released you, his hot breath hitting your skin as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Come home with me? Plea-“

“Yes. Miguel, take me home.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as he held you tighter. You saw his lips tremble, and you knew exactly how he felt. Like you could finally breathe. Like a weight was off your chest. You had spent the last months living a nightmare, with the uncertainty of your sanity, of his existence. You had even started doubting what was real and what wasn’t, started wishing you could live in that world of dreams where you knew you could always find each other. It had started to feel more like home. He had started to feel like home.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said. “Everywhere. Wherever I went. I never gave up.”

“I’ve been waiting. I’ve been hoping... I... I didn’t know how...”

He stopped your rambling, gently pressing his lips against yours in a tender kiss. His meaning loud and clear: it’s over now, we’ll never be apart again. 

[thankeywa]

Can i request a FILTHY SMUTY IMAGINE. that lo'ak has a wet dream of kiris best friend.that he hates.. 😔and then he has to deal with the results (bôñér) then later he like kisses us then that leads to filthy smut. 🧍🏻‍♀️

Cruel to be kind | Lo'ak x fem!Na'vi!reader (Smut)

Summary: request (above), enemies to lovers, a lil angst, NSFW, p in v, oral (reader receiving), Lo'ak and f! Omatikaya! reader are AGED UP (20+)

minors DNI with this or anything on my blog.

A.N: oof anon, this request got me bad, also the way you wrote boner is funny as hell. Going to try something new and write 'you' instead of 'y/n' for this. Also the fact that Lo'ak kisses both of us, I love that for us. I hope you enjoy 😉😘

word count: 4.2k

Lo'ak hated you. No, seriously. He quite literally couldn't stand the sight of you.

Kiri just had to choose you as her best friend for some reason, and you'd always been hanging around his family since you were little. Even though the years had passed, and you were no longer that annoying little girl who teamed up with his sister to bother him, you still found other ways to infuriate him.

Your constant strive to know more about humans, for example. Lo'ak could see right through your phoney attempts to pretend to be interested in Kiri's origins, no matter how often he caught you listening to her mother's music or learning how to read English through her 'books'. It was all a farçe and he knew it.

Your looks were another thing. Every single male his age couldn't help but fawn over you, and he just didn't get it. Honestly, it was hard to even look at you most of the time. Especially into your eyes. The mere idea made his stomach flip. One night, Neteyam had even briefly mentioned how 'beautiful' you'd become, and Lo'ak had almost torn his head off. How could his brother actually be so stupid? It had been completely lost on him that Neteyam was simply trying to make his brother realise he actually had a crush on you, and that's where all of his pent up anger was coming from.

It wasn't a secret that Lo'ak didn't like you, not even to you. Yet you still tried to be nice to him all the damn time. You were such a fake, it was unbelievable.

One night Lo'ak wanted to be alone, but on his way to one of his usual hiding spots he ran into you and someone who could have only been... courting you.

"Kaltxì, Lo'ak!" You waved at him sweetly while holding the guy's hand. It made Lo'ak sick. You made him sick.

"Bite me, [ ]." Lo'ak answered rudely, not stopping to engage in any further conversation.

You weren't really taken back by his hostility, but as always the hurt showed in your face. Sealtiel, your date, wasn't at all impressed with Lo'ak's behavior. "How dare you talk to her that way, you five fingered freak?"

Rage boiled up inside of you even before Lo'ak had a chance to react. You pulled yourself away from Sealtiel's hold on your hand and gave him a piece of your mind. Lo'ak imagined you were more intent on defending Kiri than him, since she had human features too, but he still felt like shit for being rude to you in front of someone else at that moment.

You stormed off, and after a few seconds of contemplation, Lo'ak tried to follow after you. But you stopped him in his tracks. "I don't need anymore of your crap right now, okay Lo'ak?" You snapped at him, turning around to face him.

"No, it's just--- I wanted to—" Lo'ak stammered. It had never happened to him before. Maybe only once, when he was 12, and he'd alone out in the forest, reciting all the ways he could think of to ask you a girl he liked out. Just for practice. It wasn't like he'd gone out to pick flowers, or anything.

"What? Make another cruel joke? Wait for someone else to come by so you can humiliate me in front of them? I don't know what I ever did, for you to hate me so much, but I'm done trying to understand." You hissed at him. "Stay. Away from me."

Fine, Lo'ak thought, as he watched you walk away from him. He had nothing to apologise for anyway. It wasn't his fault he couldn't be obsessed with you like everyone else seemed to be. Lo'ak had already been keeping clear of you, you were the one who always seemed to want to talk.

"Yeah? Well maybe you should take your own advice, then!" He yelled back at you, his voice cracking. You were already gone.

That night he couldn't sleep. It was just another thing about you. On those days that you really irked him, he just couldn't relax. Lo'ak would toss and turn for hours on end, rethinking all the things he could have said and done instead. Until finally exhaustion would take over in the early hours before the end of the eclipse.

...💫...

Lo'ak was making his way through the forest, longing for a soak and some well deserved time alone in the small stream just past the waterfalls. He'd gone out at night as usual, so none of his annoying siblings would follow him.

Soon enough he could hear the stream, and finally he came upon the small pond of clear water where he usually went to clear his head. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw someone had already had the same idea as him. Before the other Na'vi could notice him, Lo'ak panicked and hid behind a tree.

But then he made the fatal mistake of peeking around the corner to see who it was and was caught by them immediately.

"I know you're there, Lo'ak." Your voice called out to him, followed by a soft giggle. Lo'ak felt himself grow hot all over from the embarrassment, screwing his eyes shut and drawing his ears down as he desperately hoped for the ground to swallow him whole.

The last person he wanted to see at that moment was you. Especially underneath those circumstances.

When he dared to open his eyes again, he was staring right at you. Your body was wet and glistening in the darkness, and you were shivering lightly from the cool air of the night on your skin. Lo'ak could see all of you, or the best approximation of what his mind could come up with of your features, and he was completely frozen in place y the sight of them. "I was— I didn't know that you were..." He breathed out with some difficulty, doing his best to keep his eyes trained on your face.

"It's getting a little cold now..." You murmured, cozying up to him. "Come warm me up a little?"

Lo'ak was a goner as soon as he heard you say those words. The second he nodded and leaned into you to catch your lips with his own, your hands were on his waist and making quick work of ridding him of his loincloth.

All the desperation Lo'ak felt down to the very core of his being, made the scene in his mind escalate pretty quickly. The Na'vi pulled you close, finally able to let his hands roam your body as he pleased, and trapped you between himself and the tree he'd been hiding behind only a few moments earlier.

"Lo'ak, I need you, please..." You almost sobbed as he ran his fingers between your slick folds just to feel how ready you were for him there. Lo'ak took a moment to appreciate your arched back and spread legs as you presented to him, before taking his stance behind you. "This why you mess with my head all the time?" He whispered in a low voice as he began to pound into your warmth, but you could only answer with broken moans as you feebly tried to meet his thrusts. "You just wanted me to pay you a little attention, uh?"

He gave your tail a harsh tug when you didn't answer right away.

"Y-yes! Hh-hhn, w-wanted... you... t-to..." Your answer got lost in a babble of incoherent mewls and wails.

The night began to twist itself in a fever dream of Lo'ak body entangled with yours in different scenarios that came and went in his mind. If at first he was staking his claim on you at a punishing pace until the roughness of the tree bark began to cut into your skin, the next moment the two of you were by the stream and you were riding his cock like your life depended on it.

"See this?" You asked him sweetly as you gestured towards yourself. Lo'ak watched you run your fingers over your breasts (which were now covered in all sorts of marks left by him), down your stomach to your thighs, and finally back up to your core that was currently clamping down on his shaft. "You'll never have any of it..."

Those words startled him.

"And you'll—never—have—me, Lo'ak Sully." You punctuated each segment of that scathing sentence with a roll of your hips. Your words cut Lo'ak deeper than he'd ever been, all the while the sight and feel of your body on top of him kept knocking the air out of his lungs.

Lo'ak listened to you cry out from the pleasure of the two of you reaching your peak at the same time, meanwhile, a feeling of dread began to settle over him. You languidly let yourself rest across his chest, leaning down to leave a trail of soft kisses across his face that he was now desperately trying to commit to memory. "Don't... don't go..." Lo'ak mumbled, wanting to hold on to you for as long as he could.

But you were already fading from him. "Why should I stay? You hate me, remember?"

...💫...

Your voice was far away from him now. Instead, all the hateful things he'd said to you and about you during the years began to ring louder and louder in his mind, until finally, he woke up with a start.

"...I'm sorry." Lo'ak heard himself saying, as he woke up drenched in sweat, all the while sporting the most uncomfortable erection he'd possibly woken up with in recent memory. Thankfully he'd spent the night in one of the hiding places the Sullys had built for themselves across the years away from the rest of the clan. He had no reason to think anyone else would be coming by there so early in the morning, so Lo'ak saw no harm in taking care of himself then and there.

If anyone else were to climb up the treehouse, Lo'ak was sure he'd be able to hear their movements in time to cover himself up. There was little risk involved, and he certainly couldn't walk back home sporting a boner.

Little did he know, you were still trudging through the forest, your thoughts once again plagued by his hurtful behaviour. You'd always liked Lo'ak, despite your better judgement. He'd always been abundantly clear about not wanting you around, yet your heart seemed to have a hard time accepting that. Recently, you'd thought that maybe it was time for you to start courting and be courted. To know what it really felt to be cared for the same way you'd cared for the younger Sully brother.

But that night you'd realised, your heart had been completely wasted on him and there was nothing you could do about it.

Suddenly, your acute hearing picked up some ragged breathing coming from way up in the trees, and you were snapped out of your reverie. It was one of your people, and they sounded like they were hurt. You couldn't ignore it, especially since nobody should have been that far away from Home Tree after the eclipse.

Pushing your sadness to the side, to quickly climbed up the tree where you could hear the pained moans coming from. The closer you got to the top, you began to recognise the voice as Lo'ak's. Of course he'd gotten himself in trouble at that time of night. The adrenaline rushing through you made you perform a couple more reckless jumps until you finally found yourself outside of a hut built in the middle of the branches.

You rushed inside, worry written all over your tear stained face. "Lo'ak! Are you —"

The scene you were met with was a far cry from anything you'd been imagining until that point. Your eyes were perfectly capable of seeing in the dark, and there was no mistaking what was happening. Lo'ak's five fingered hand was wrapped around his... his... well, you knew what it was called, you'd just never seen one before...

The shameless act brought colour and heat to your face. Lo'ak had looked completely feral in that moment, and now the cries you'd been hearing took on a whole different meaning. The second he saw you, his pupils widened almost comically, and he quickly attempted to cover his arousal back underneath his loincloth, but the hard outline of it was still there, completely unaffected by your sudden appearance.

"[ ]" Lo'ak called your name as you began to turn your heal and run away from what you'd just seen. You couldn't deal with the way the sight of him naked and pleasuring himself made you feel, not after the way he'd treated you a couple hours prior.

You were about to jump down from and incredibly tall branch without even checking your landing, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around your middle to keep you from doing something utterly stupid. "Just what do you think you're doing?" It would have sounded like his usual rude self, if it wasn't for the soft tone and the clear concern in his voice.

"N-none of your business..." You struggled against him weakly. "Let me go, Lo'ak..." Lo'ak didn't even have that good of a hold on you, he was trying his best to keep his excitement angled away from you. You looked mortified, and he felt beyond ashamed that he'd been touching himself while thinking of you, when clearly you despised him. And with good reason.

"Forgive me, [ ]. Please forgive me." Lo'ak begged you. The words sounded so foreign coming from him. He didn't even apologise to his family most of the time. "I... never meant for you to see..."

Your ears lowered in understanding. Lo'ak wasn't apologising for his behaviour, just for the dishevelled state he'd put you in now. "It's fine..." You breathed out, relaxing a little bit in his hold. "I just... I thought you were hurt..."

Lo'ak couldn't deny the sincerity of your words, nor would he ever forget how worried you'd looked as you'd barged into his tent. He didn't deserve any of your care and attention, yet you kept giving it to him despite his brutish behaviour.

"You were crying..." He blurted out suddenly, seeing the tear streaks on your face and the redness in your eyes now that you were so close. Lo'ak thought back to the way the two of you had parted ways. Only he could come to the realisation he had feelings for someone just after bringing them to tears. "I... I made you cry..."

You didn't want to answer Lo'ak, and suddenly the need to get away from him became much stronger. It was humiliting, and you knew he'd realise soon how badly you had it for him. "Lo'ak... please... " You didn't know if you were asking for. To be let go? To somehow have this pain taken away from you?

Lo'ak didn't let you go however, and he decided he wouldn't, not until you calmed down. His hold wasn't forceful, you could have pulled away from him if you really wanted to. Instead, he was holding you like you were the most precious thing to him in the world. His hands began to caress your skin gently, all the while he was crooning soft apologies to you. It made you melt against him almost too easily, clinging to him while your breathing began to settle down.

To the back of your mind, a nagging thought began to grow. "Is... is this your way of playing a prank on me?" You asked, your words breaking Lo'ak's heart. Finally, he'd found away to be with you without reflecting the negativity inside of him onto you, but of course you didn't trust him.

Lo'ak was the one trying to fight back tears now. He looked angry, distraught even, as his face twisted into a side of him you'd never seen before. "Of course you'd think that..." He said, taking a step back from you. "What have I ever shown you if not hatred over the years...? I'm so much of a loser and a fuck up, why wouldn't you think I'd try to trick you when you're this vulnerable?"

"Lo'ak —" You tried to stop him from being self-deprecating, which hurt you more than anything.

"But what choice did I have?" He snapped back, his voice filled with grief. "You were always off with Kiri or Neteyam when we were kids. And that was fine, I could never live up to my siblings anyway. But then... everyone in the clan started to understand... how goddamm perfect you are... and I knew, I would never be enough for you... I would have brought you nothing but shame... so, so I had to shut you out. I had to make you understand how big of a disappointment I really am to everyone around me..." Lo'ak took a glance at his demon hands, a constant reminder of how sick his longing for [ ] truly was. Someone like him was meant to end up alone.

Lo'ak's words almost broke you. The realisation he longed for you just as much as you did, was unfortunately overtaken by the pain you felt for him. You didn't want him to believe these things he'd clearly been telling himself for years. Those thoughts of his had kept him away from you for too long.

You threw your arms around his neck, holding him so tight you would have cut his circulation off if he wasn't much stronger than you. "You... complete and... utter skxawng..." you reprimanded him. "I never want to hear you say those things about yourself again. What you are, Lo'ak Sully, is a moron, nothing more." Lo'ak gave you a little grin through his tears. "Because I have always been yours... and you never saw it."

Hearing those words leave your lips almost made Lo'ak's knees give out from under him. Afraid it was all just a dream, a sudden need to feel you and brand his touch onto you overcame him.

Lo'ak ran his nose against your cheek a little before capturing your lips into a searing kiss. You arched into him, letting out a soft mewl at the heated contact you'd never experienced before. It didn't take long for the two of you to retreat back into Lo'ak's hideout, and only then did he pull away from you.

"J-just... gimme a sec..." He said nervously. You were a little dazed from your shared kiss, and both of you were starved for more. Lo'ak was doing his best to create a comfortable spot for the two of you to rest on, and you couldn't help but giggle at how cute it was. You walked over to where he was fretting, laying down and pulling him down with you.

It wasn't uncommon for Na'vi your age to mess around before bonding, even outside of an official courtship. However neither of you had ever wanted or even contemplated having fun with someone else. So you were both completely inexperienced. That didn't stop Lo'ak from doing to you all the things he'd been dreaming about for years.

Once he'd made sure you were comfortable, he began to worship every single part of you, committing every single inch of your skin to memory. The little sobs you let out when he started playing with your breasts, had him teasing you relentlessly until you were in tears. "L-Lo'ak... I'm sensitive there... please...!" You didn't know whether you were beginning him to stop or keep going.

He absolutely loved having you at his mercy in that way, but the sweet scent of your arousal had him finally relenting as he directed his attention to your glistening cunt. "Look at you, what a pretty little syulang, huh?" Lo'ak licked a stripe up your slit without as much as a warning, making you moan and tug at his braids. His eyes were completely transfixed by the sight of you, letting his fingers pet you gently at first. "I hope you know, your little syulang is all mine now... I don't plan on sharing you with anybody else." He growled possessively, before burying his face between your thighs to drink down the sweet nectar you couldn't seem to stop producing. "Y-yes... Lo'ak... all yours..." you whined softly, fully losing yourself into the pleasure he was so adamant to give you.

You were so foreign to the feeling of an orgasm approaching, you ended up squirting all over Lo'ak face. When he pulled away to look up at you with fully blown pupils, you were completely mortified at what just happened. You tried to pull away and apologise, but Lo'ak didn't let you second guess yourself for a second. He'd never been more turned on in his life. "No way, baby... can't have you saying that... this pretty little cunt deserves all the praise and care in the world... now stay still, I'm not finished..."

He lapped up all the slick that had been running down your thighs before attaching his lips to your folds once again. Soon, you were begging for him to claim you. All of you. While Lo'ak had been painfully hard the whole time, he hadn't thought about his own pleasure for a single second until then. His hands and even his sex were different to the ones of other Na'vi. He was afraid of disappointing you again, of not being up to the standard of what you needed.

"Lo'ak, please... I don't want you to take care of it by yourself..." you crawled over to him now, your shyness almost gone while his own insecurities were back. He let out a deep croon, holding you tight as you sat in his lap, your back against his chest. You tilted your head to the side so he could kiss and mark up you neck, all the while the two of you were rutting against each other. "You're already taking care of me..." He reassured you, but you still positioned yourself to line yourself up with his cock.

Lo'ak bit into your shoulder then, the feeling of your tight walls awakening a feral need to claim and breed inside of him. You were so small, you were struggling to even take him more than halfway, but Lo'ak was there to reassure you everything was perfect, you were perfect. "You're doing such a good job, yawne... fuck, fuck, fuck.... you're just so tight aren't you? Gonna have to ruin that cunt nice and proper first, if I you want to take me all the way..."

"Yes, Lo... I need it..." Lo'ak's words had you completely dumb and needy for him, and the two of you had just lost any semblance of self control you may have had until that point.

Your sweet and pliable nature give Lo'ak an immense sense of power and control over you. While it was undeniably hot to watch you struggle to take in the size of him, it was time to give both of you what you wanted. He gripped your hips tight and pulled almost all the way out before driving himself back in, loving the obscene sound of your wet walls dragging against him. You cried out his name, as he repeated the harsh motion, steadily driving himself deeper and deeper inside of you.

The two of you went at it for the entirety of the eclipse. The desire you had for each other was so desperate, the promise of feeling each other's pleasure once more was stronger than any ache in your body or sense of tiredness.

Waking up the following morning, you still felt the need for Lo'ak to mate you before the two of you had to once again go back to reality. This time, you finally managed to take him all the way and he thrust into you in one swift motion. The two of you were outside in the sunlight, your body trapped between Lo'ak's and the rough bark of the tree he'd pinned you against.

"Good girl... such a good girl... knew you could take me all the way..." Lo'ak praised you, pounding your raw and sensitive cunt, now able to make you feel every single inch of him. The pleasure was indescribable, even if you were overstimulated and sore from the previous night. You were calling out him name and begging him not to stop.

Unbeknownst to you, he'd dreamed about having you exactly like that the previous night.

[frango-maconheiro]

Welcome Home

Wally Darling x GN!reader

part one ! part two

☆ My sandwich lover crush (part three) ☆

𑁍𖹭 Thank you all for the support and silly comments. You guys are awesome! 𖹭𑁍

☆ I appreciate criticism, ideas, and your opinions. ☆

Trigger Warning: none

🪼 when you woke up, you were laying in a really green grass. where are you? you look around to see that you're in the middle of a forest, a weird one that is, all trees got different colors on the leaves, like, there was literally some with purple leaves, you've never heard about a forest like this.

🪼 you look into your arms to see that your sandwich is still there and in good condition. feeling happy that at least you have a sandwich, you give it a little kiss and proceed to take a bite out of it.

🪼 you stretch yourself and get up. You don't really feel anything wrong with your body, but you still check yourself for anything weird and find nothing wrong. that's good.

🪼 "This makes no sense." You think to yourself. Why would someone kidnap you in the middle of the night, not really harm you, and bring you to the middle of the woods? maybe you were gonna be used as a sacrifice, but they didn't really like you, so they just dumped you to die here? you don't really wanna know.

🪼 you put your hand on your pocket to grab your phone just to feel nothing. Oh yeah, you forgot that you had put it to charge. Well, there's nothing you can really do about it. It's not like you knew you would need it. At least you have your precious emotional support sandwich.

🪼 you've been walking in a straight line all this time, enough time for you to realize that you're not dreaming and that this is probably some kind of wonderland because you've encountered all kinds of insects and they were all squishy, cartoon like, shiny, colorful, cute lil guys with big silly eyes, its like they all came out of a children's book!

🪼 your favorite one yet is this big rhinoceros beetle you found! it walked so silly, and it started following you after you gave it a piece of your sandwich, so you decided to take it with you.

🪼 finally, after so much time of walking without any trace of civilization, you heard it, voices coming from further away. you start walking a little faster, not running, you don't want to leave your little beetle friend behind.

🪼 finally, you get close enough. you hide in the shadows behind some trees, taking a peek at those who are making all these noises. you clear your vision to look again. It can't be. These aren't people. They're puppets!

🪼 specifically the puppets from that show you were watching yesterday. y'know the one with the silly cast where that silly puppet with big eyes, banana skin, and deep blue cotton candy hair tried talking with you, and you changed the channel on his face? yes, yes, that one.

🪼 you're not really that shocked. You've encountered enough silly bugs to collect your sanity back together. besides, you're pretty sure you could beat the shit out of them if you wanted. like, why would most of them actually know how to fight?

🪼 you find it quite interesting that they look more like the art version that you saw in the countdown screen than actual puppets.

🪼 it was starting to get so boring to watch them play and have a nice picnic that you began to notice that someone was missing. It was Wally, Wally was missing.

🪼 "Where the fuck did Wally went???" you swear you had just saw him minutes ago, you search around to find nothing, he's gone.

🪼 you feel your beetle bonking its head on your right leg, glancing at it, you watch as it points toward something - no, someone. squinting your eyes a little, you see Wally, who stopped walking when you finally noticed his presence.

🪼 he was looking directly into your eyes with that smile of his. he waves at you. "Hello, are you new here?" He gets closer, "What's your name? I could show you around." he says, perking up a little at the offer he made.

🪼 he looks shady, but you're starving, and you're practically homeless now. "Sure, buddy, lead the way." You tell him. his smiles get wider, and his pupils expand. It reminds you of a cat. If you couldn't feel his excitement before, now you could. "Wonderful! I gotta introduce you to everyone first."

🪼 He runs into your direction, practically jumping. He holds your wrist and drags you toward the others. he is so excited that you can't help but giggle. if this continues, this man will grow into your heart in no time.

🪼 at the same time you found it cute you also took a notice at how Wally's grip is fucking strong, and he doesn't seem to be even gripping your wrist that hard. He could probably snap your wrist if he wanted.

🪼 Everyone seemed confused by Wally running until they saw you, who was trying your best not to fall while running alongside Wally.

🪼 "Hey Wally, who's that behind you?" The orange dude asked, you forgot his name. "This, my friends, is our new neighbor! their name is.." Wally turns his head to look at you. "Oh yeah, you never told me your name."

🪼 "My name -" but as you were about to answer, a cute puppet with little horns runs up to you with another cute puppet by their side. "Hiii!!! my name's Julie!!" Julie tells you enthusiastically, "And he's Frank!!" she points at the guy by their side. "Hello." Frank greets you with a small wave. "Hii, it's nice to meet you two." You greet them back. they seemed nice.

🪼 "Well, now could you tell us your-" now Wally is the one interrupted. "Hi, new neighbor. Welcome to the neighborhood. Do you want some cake? I'm Howdy." Howdy extends one of his hands with a plate with a very good-looking cake. "Oh, thank you, Howdy!" You shake his hand, sitting on the grass with them. someone taps on your should, and you look to see that orange guy. "Nice to meet you, neighbor. I'm Eddie, the mailman. " You greet him and give him a little wave of your free hand.

🪼 you grab a spoon, taking a bite out of the cake that was given to you. this cake is really good. Whoever made this could make your birthday cake at any time. although you were really enjoying your time, you couldn't shake of the stare you were getting.

🪼 you look to your side to see who was staring so much at you only to be met with Wally's expended pupils. his stare is so intense, it's like he's in a trance, it's kinda creepy, but it also reminds you of a cat. You wonder if he would slap your hand if you tried to pet his hair.

🪼 "neighbor, tell me your name." he whispered, it sounded almost like a command. "Sure, but only if you let me pet your hair." you whispered back. he tilted his head a little to the side, "What do you mean?" he doesn't know what petting is? now that's surprising.

🪼 "Well, it's when someone does this, see?" You extend your arm to pet his hair. His hair is so fuzzy and soft. it seems like he liked it because he eventually started closing his eyes, leaning into your touch.

🪼 It's been ten minutes, and you thought you petted his hair long enough, but when he didn't feel anymore petting and opened his eyes to see your hand leaving, he immediately grabbed it. "What are you doing, neighbor? Pet me more."

🪼 now you're stuck with petting Wally's hair and eating cake. you don't mind, but he seems very comfortable, too comfortable, I mean, he literally put his head on your lap so you could pet him more. silly cat man.

🪼 for now, you're just sticking with these guys until you can find a way to get out, to eat your sandwiches.

☆ what do you guys think? ☆

[messrmoonyy]

Can you do a 5 + 1 style fic for Tess? Mix in fluff and smut and angst. Maybe 5 times she says she loves you? +1 Or 5 times she kisses you? Something like that. Thanks for taking the time I love your stuff ❤️

5 times Tess kissed you and 1 time she couldn’t

Tess Servopoulos x Fem!reader

A/N- I haven’t written a 5+1 in forever so this was fun! Honestly she’s a soft little baby for the majority of this, mostly cause I wanted to make the 1 hurt more 😃 she’s sweet and soft. She’s baby. The dialogue from the end part is not directly taken from the show cause I don’t like taking all the exact dialogue I want to make it my own. So there’s pieces but not completely exact. Some are longer than others. Only proofread once.

Warnings- 18+ because there’s a smidge of smut. Fluff, drunkness / drinking, smut: oral ( r receiving ) , mentions of injury/violence,

Word count- 6.9k

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

ONE

It had been a really bad day.

A really bad day. One of those where every single awful thing that had ever happened to you, crept out from the dark corner of your brain that you locked them away in. Thankfully you’d had no work assignments and had spent the day hiding away in your apartment. You were supposed to have met Tess after her own assignment, plans to get rid of some of your stock on her break in between shifts. But you’d stayed home. 

5 years had passed since outbreak day and the amount of shit you had seen in that time… it crept up on you from time to time. She’d understand. 

She’d probably be a little bit pissed at you when you saw her next, if you were honest, but at that moment you didn’t really give a fuck. All you wanted to do was lay in bed and ignore the memories bouncing around your brain. 

You’d had a decent amount of self restraint all day, you hadn’t touched either of the bottles of whiskey under your bed. Or any of the pills. It would’ve been the easy option, knock yourself out with a couple of oxy or see how much whiskey you could drink before it made you pass out. But for the most part you’d restrained yourself, knowing it would only take the pain away temporarily. 

You saw it first hand in Joel. The way he dosed himself up on whatever pills he could get his hands on, only to be just as traumatised the next morning. 

Though by 4:30 your self restraint was gone. You’d finally cracked open a bottle and poured yourself a glass, ready to spend your night drinking yourself into a stupor. Maybe a mixture of pride for holding out so long, but also too terrified to go to sleep. Scared of what fucked up dreams your mind might conjure up. 

Until you heard a knock at the door. 

You sighed in frustration and got up from your spot at the kitchen table and grabbed your keys, pulling open the door ready to tell whoever it was to piss off. But your frustration dissipated when you saw who was standing there. 

Tess had her hands in her pockets, brows furrowing slightly as she looked over you. You didn’t even say anything, just left the door open and dropped your keys back on the side table by the door, leaning heavily against it. 

“ oh someones started early “ she said with a raised eyebrow as she sauntered into your apartment and grabbed the bottle from the table, eyeing the glass before shrugging and drinking straight from the bottle “ how much catching up do I need to do? “

“ I only had one glass “

“ oh that’s easy “ you watched her bring the bottle to her lips again, wincing slightly as the amber liquid burned on its way down. You slid down the wall where you stood, too tired to even make the short distance back to your chair at the table “ you know there’s a perfectly good couch right? “ you waved a hand in dismissal in her direction and leant your head back against the wall behind you. 

You hadn’t even done anything all day. But your muscles felt heavy, your body exhausted. There might as well have been lead in your veins, the weight of your past heavily anchoring you to the floor. 

Your eyes dragged up and down her as she stood by the table, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. She took another swig from the bottle and you sighed. 

“ you gonna share that or what? “ she scoffed and made her way over, groaning slightly as she sat down on the floor next to you. 

“ I’m too old for sitting on the fuckin floor “ You accepted the bottle, taking a swig before holding the neck loosely between your fingers. 

“ you’re barely in your fuckin 30s “ 

“ the ever looming fear of being turned into a mushrooms puppet will really age a person “ you rolled your eyes and took another drink. You hoped the alcohol would push the heaviness away, but Tess was enough of a distraction even if it wouldn’t. 

“ gonna tell me where you were today? “ you gestured to your surroundings and she sighed, taking the bottle from you which you took right back “ what’s going on? “ 

“ one of them days “ one thing you loved about Tess? She didn’t pry. She didn’t push. She took what you gave her and didn’t ask for more. In the same way you always did for her. In the days where it was you at the door of her apartment. When she couldn’t bare to leave the safety of those four walls and face the day. You didn’t push. 

“ I have something that’ll cheer you up” she took the bottle from you as she said it, clearly trying to catch up with the amount you were downing. The warm, fuzzy feeling alcohol gave you was settling over your head “ I was on sewer maintenance “ she drank some more “ this one fuckin officer… he was being such an ass “

“ they’re all asses “ you mumbled, sighing and closing your eyes as you let the whisky push away the heaviness and lull you into that relaxed, giggly, care free state it always did before you pushed into the next stage of drunkness. Where you couldn’t walk straight and forgot what you’d been doing when you woke up the next morning. 

That first stage was nice. Bubble headed and warm, the giggles and wooziness that came with being tipsy. 

“ they are. But this one? Fuckin dick “ 

“ how is this supposed to be funny Tess? “ 

“ be fuckin patient I’m getting there “ you rolled your eyes, taking the bottle back “ so he’s being an ass. And this guy was done with his shit- literally “ a string of giggles bubbled past your lips at that “ and so the ass starts shouting, telling him to get back to work. And as he’s yelling, he’s walking. Doesn’t look where he’s going “

“ oh no “ the giggles grew as you anticipated where the story was heading, shifting closer to her and turning in her direction “ god please tell me what I think you’re gonna tell me “ 

“ face first. Straight in the fuckin water. Half the QZs shit on his face “ you both burst into laughter, the imagine of a FEDRA asshole face first in a pile of shit water truly the highlight of your day “ I told you it would make you laugh “ she said through her own laughter, a sound you didn’t get to hear very often. 

You lay your head on her shoulder and sighed, as your giggles began dying down. Tess brought a hand up and cupped your cheek lightly leaning her face against your head. 

“ I like when you laugh “ she said, her voice soft “ better than seeing you grumpy “ 

“ yeah? “

“ yeah. I do. Its cute “ you lifted your head, your chin on her shoulder and wiggling your eyebrows at her

“ oh you think I’m cute? “ you both erupted into giggles again, your faces close to each other and laughing like a pair of kids who just got caught trying to steal cookies from the jar “ youuuu think I’m cuteee “ you said in a silly sing song voice and poked at her arm. 

“ you’re wasted “ 

“ hmm maybe but so are you “ she shrugged and pushed your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear 

“ maybe “ your eyes flickered to where the backs of her fingers were brushing against your cheek now, her touch gentle and soft. 

“ I think you’re cute too for what it’s worth “ you said quietly, the alcohol swimming though your veins speaking words you’d been holding onto for months. 

“ you do? “ 

“ I do “ you said it a little too quickly but you didn’t care. Not when she was that close to you, her fingers on your face and practically sat in each others laps “ I have for a while “

“ I know “ you scoffed at that, trailing you hand up her arm and brushing across her jaw lightly 

“ course you fuckin do “ 

“ you’re not subtle “ 

“ and you wait until now to tell me that? That’s fucked” you said, laughing again. And it made a grin spread across her own face. 

“ I can stop. I can leave and pretend I didn’t say it. Give me the word and I’ll go right now “ your hands twisted into the collar of her shirt and you shook your head. 

“ is this just cause you’re drunk? “ you whispered, trying to clear away the fog in some attempt to figure out if this was real or not. 

“ no “ she shook her head, nudging her nose against yours “ no. No it’s not “ all your sadness from earlier in the day was something of the past, it didn’t matter anymore. Not in that moment “ tell me to stop “ her voice was barely a whisper, so close her lips were brushing yours as she spoke. 

“ m’not gonna do that “

“ good “ it was just a gentle kiss at first. Soft. Lingering. You parted for a few seconds, then she was grabbing at your face with both hands, forcefully pulling you back in a way that took the air from your lungs. 

She tasted like the whiskey you’d both been drinking and… something else. Something you’d been yearning for for too long. It wasn’t exactly how you’d expected your first kiss with her to be. You hadn’t exactly imagined some movie, fairytale romance thing. But you also hadn’t imagined the current situation either. 

It was desperate. All tongues and teeth, her hands tugging at the hair in the nape of your neck, yours twisting into the material of her shirt. The kind of kiss that would leave your lips swollen and red when she was done with you. 

Part of your mind that wasn’t all that drunk yet, questioned if this would even be happening if you were both sober. But the louder part was screaming in excitement, telling the other to shut up. That that was something to worry about tomorrow. Not now. Not when she was kissing you like her life depended on it. 

You had to pull apart at some point, gasping for air as you finally parted. You were both quiet for a few moments, just your heavy breaths the sounds between you. She moved away first, reaching for the bottle again and taking a big gulp. 

TWO

Your back arched off the mattress, fingers lacing into her hair as Tess smiled against your cunt, not stopping for a single second in her ministration’s. She was eating like a woman starved, her long slender fingers reaching places inside of you that you never really knew existed. 

“ Jesus fuckin Christ Tess “ you whined, hand patting around for hers. She slid the hand that had been pressing your hips down, up your waist before grabbing your hand. She threaded her fingers with yours, squeezing softly. 

“ I got you baby “ she said, her voice gentle in comparison to the way she curled her fingers inside of you in a steady rhythm “ you gonna come for me? Yeah? “ 

“ yes. Yes. Fuck “ you whined, high pitched sounds leaving your throat as her tongue pressed against your clit again “ just like that “ 

You came on her fingers moments later, a bone shattering grip on her hand as she worked you through it. Not wasting a single drop your slick cunt had to offer. She stopped when you squirmed away from her, the sensation too much. 

Her thumb rubbed circles into your hand and she pressed soft kisses across your thighs and your stomach as you came down, letting your breathing regain its normal pattern. 

“ Tess “ you said softly, and she got the hint, moving her way back up your body and letting your grabby hands pull her down to kiss you. The taste of you lingered on her lips but you didn’t care, hand pulling at her neck to keep her there. You hummed a soft moan into her mouth, making her smile against you. 

“ that good? “ she asked with a grin on her face, when she pulled back, pushing your hair away from your damp forehead.

“ it was alright I guess “ Tess scoffed and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face 

“ you little shit “ she said with a shake of her head and nudged you lightly, rolling onto her back next to you. You propped yourself on your elbow and traced your fingers in nonsense patterns across her skin “ you in a better mood now at least? “ 

“ wasn’t even in a bad mood “ you grumbled, tracing over the lines of her collarbones and down her sternum and back up again. Sometimes when you couldn’t sleep you’d make patterns in her freckles, or trace your fingers over her scars and ask her where each one came from. 

“ sure. You’ve been grumpy as fuck all morning “ you shrugged and she grabbed your hand that was trailing over her skin “ seemed a little happier a minute ago though ‘ oh Tess! Just like like that! ‘ “ you slapped her arm as she pulled a terrible impression of you, her voice high pitched and dramatic 

“ shut up! I don’t sound like that! “ she laughed, grabbing at your hands as you tried to push her off the bed. 

“ oh? You don’t? Huh? “ you clambered on top of her, grabbing at her hands and attempting to pin them down beside her head “ so that wasn’t you moaning my name less than five minutes ago? No? “ 

“ shut up holy shit “ she was still grinning as you managed to push her hands down in a way that was a little too easy for it not to have been intentional. 

“ oh well look at you “ 

“ you’re mean “ 

“ I am? “ you nodded and leant down, lips brushing against hers. 

“ so mean “ she smiled as you said it, tilting her head up to capture your lips again “ making fun of me. Such a bitch” she scoffed at that and you squealed as she pushed at you, so you were now the one with your wrists pinned against the mattress. 

“ I don’t like that tone baby “ you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face, gasping when she pressed her thigh between your legs. 

“ and what are you gonna do about it? “ 

“ oh. You’ll see “ 

THREE

The night was not going to plan. At all. You’d been fucked over. Some stupid fucker working for Robert who you were supposed to be trading with. They’d brought pills that were nothing but compacted powdered sugar, trying to screw you over. 

You, Tess and Joel had secured a pretty decent name for yourself within the underground scene of Boston. People trusted you, were loyal to you and didn’t take their business else where. But with that came the fuckers who wanted to challenge it. Who wanted your client base. Wanted the power that the three of you were gaining every day. 

It had gotten messy when you noticed the pills looked different, one taste telling you that you weren’t holding a baggie of Oxy or Hydro. But a bunch of useless shit. Most of the fuckers were now dead or dying in a back alley somewhere in zone 5, you both had guns and all they had were crappy shivs and planks. But somewhere In the tussle, Tess had gotten stabbed trying to defend you. Even though you could take care of yourself. A handmade shiv to the side. 

You’d put him down. The metal pipe one of his friends had tried to hit you with raining down on him until you heard the sickening crunch of god knows what part of him breaking. You’d put a bullet in his face too for good measure. 

It was a miracle you’d managed to get her back to your apartment without being spotted. But she was stubborn and wasn’t the type to scream and cry even if she did have a giant hole in her side. 

“ alright alright. Here we go on the table I need a flat surface “ it wasn’t particularly smooth or glamorous the way you flopped her onto the kitchen table, rushing to pull various shit from cupboards in the kitchen to try and stop your girlfriend from fucking bleeding out. 

“ Jesus fuckin Christ “ she groaned, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. You hurried back over to her, taking her blood soaked hands and gently pulling them away from where she was keeping pressure on her wound “ I swear to fuck if this is how I die- “

“ shut the fuck up “ you pushed up her shirt and started wiping away as much blood from the wound as you could, cleaning it as much as was possible in the circumstances “ you’re not dying. I’m no Florence fucking nightingale but I’m gonna patch you up. And you’re gonna be so pissed at me tomorrow because I stitch you up wonky, but that’s okay. Cause I saved your fucking life so you should be grateful “ 

She actually cracked a small smile at that, eyes locked on your face as you worked at cleaning her up. 

“ so grateful “ you examined the wound in the light of the crappy portable lamps, almost thanking the Lord when it didn’t seem to be too deep. No punctured organs you could hope. You reached for the needle and thread, but your hands were shaking too much to thread the needle and you cursed under your breath “ calm down “ it almost made you laugh. She was the one with a stab wound. Yet she was comforting you. The way she always did. 

“ I’m calm “ 

“ tell that to your face “ you glared at her and focussed on threading the needle.

You wanted to be pissed at her as she lay there watching you. She was too protective sometimes. You liked it. You couldn’t deny that but not when it meant she was getting hurt. Not when she put herself in harms way. Idiot.

You finally got the needle threaded and sat down to look at the wound. 

“ not too deep it should be okay. Gonna hurt though “ 

“ funny I always thought you were the masochist and I was the sadist “ you threw her a look, unable to stop the smile that tugged at your lips. 

“ you’re such an idiot “ her breath was shaky as you started stitching her up, trying to remain as neat as possible. She shifted as you clearly hit a more tender spot, a jumbled string of curse words leaving her mouth. 

“ wait until I get my hands on that motherfucker “ she spat, hissing in pain as you pushed the needle through her skin again, trying to be quick and get it over with. 

“ yeah? What you gonna do? Tell me “ talking was good. She’d taught you that. The times she’d had to patch you up, making you talk to keep your mind off of the pain. 

“ bash his- shit. Bash his fuckin skull in “

“ mhm and what else? “ you asked, wiping at the blood that continued to trickle down her stomach “ details. I want details “ you pushed, keeping her talking. Keeping her distracted. Making her brain tick over with how she planned to beat the living shit out of Robert, not about how painful a blunt needle and sewing thread felt dragging though her skin. 

“ maybe I should take some tips from you. You really fucked that asshole up, huh? “

“ well I learned from the best “ she gave a short laugh, eyes still locked on your face. 

“ fucking Robert “ 

“ mhm fuckin Robert “ you said as you made the final stitch. Her eyes were still on you as you doused the wound in alcohol, in some hope it would kill off at least some of the shit that might cause an infection “ there you go “ 

She pushed her self up onto her elbows with a groan, looking down at your handy work 

“ pretty as a fuckin picture “ 

“ I know. Should’a been a nurse “ you moved to clear away all the shit you’d been using, but she grabbed at your wrist. 

“ thank you “

“ of course “ she pulled you down and you pressed a kiss to her lips lightly, her split lip giving it the metallic taste of blood.

FOUR

You woke up in a cold sweat, thrashing around as the covers clung to your arms and legs in a way that felt too constricting. The horrors of whatever had been tormenting you in your sleep still assaulting you, even with your eyes open. 

You couldn’t even fully comprehend what your brain was showing you, just that you knew it was terrifying. Odd faces of your family, of people you had killed. 

“ baby. Baby! Hey! Calm down you’re okay! it’s me! It’s me. I’ve got you “ as your eyes began to focus on your surroundings, your eyes clearing of the dark fog of the nightmare that had attacked your peaceful sleep, you focussed on the strong hands gripping at your arms. The calm voice filtering through your own screams, hitting your ears. 

You reached out in the dark for her, squeezing her tightly when she pulled you into her arms. 

“ Tess “ you sobbed, praying it was her that had you trapped in her arms. Of course it was. It was always her, always the one to pull you back to reality when the nightmares got to you. 

“ that’s right. It’s me, you’re alright. Just a dream, I got you. It’s just a dream all a dream baby girl “ she murmured softly into your hair, stroking her hands over your back and gently shushing you. 

You hated when all the shit you had done came back to haunt you. It made you feel weak. Pathetic. 

Your own mind was punishing you. Attacking you from the inside out for being a shitty person. It never seemed to affect Tess. She had always been stronger than you, always the one doing the comforting. 

“ I’m sorry I- I didn’t mean to wake you I’m sorry- “

“ don’t be sorry. It’s okay “ you pressed your face against her neck, breathing in her scent in some attempt to ground yourself again “ baby “ she gently nudged your face up to look at her, hands cupping your cheeks gently “ you’re home, you’re safe. I’m right here “  

She brushed her thumbs over your tears, her tired eyes scanning your face. She had bags under her eyes, more scars littering her skin in the years since you’d first met her. But those eyes were still the same. No matter how much shit you both did, she still looked at you the same. 

“ you should go back to sleep “ you shook your head. Not wanting to go back to the fucking horrors that were waiting for you the second you closed your eyes  

“ cant. Cant do that shit again “ she sighed but nodded and sat back against the headboard, pulling you with her. 

“ alright. Then we stay awake “ her voice was soft, no sarcasm. No joking. She had to be up early for work, yet she would sacrifice her sleep to stay awake all night with you “ we can talk. Or you can lose at cards to me. Whatever you want, we’ll do it “ you looked up at her, her face illuminated by the moonlight seeping through the gap in the curtains. 

“ I love you “ you whispered, overcome with emotion as you looked at her. You didn’t say it to each other often. In fact she had let it slip maybe three times over the time you’d been together. She was uncomfortable with it. Never wanting to confront and confirm that she had someone she loved. That she had a weakness. That she had somebody to lose. 

She pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and then your lips, telling you without saying it. 

“ I know baby. I know “ 

FIVE

If someone had told you that in the middle of the apocalypse you’d be out sunbathing, eating fresh fruit like you were on some kind of vacation. You’d have laughed in their faces. Yet there you were. The backyard of the house next door to Bill and Franks. They’d fixed it up when your visits there grew more regular a few years back. Frankly Bill didn’t seem to pleased by it. Some bullshit ‘ resource management’ thing. But Frank had said he’d loved the project. 

And it meant you got the only slice of true… normality the world had to offer you. You could play pretend. Act like the world was fine. That you and Tess were living in that little town, doing normal human things. Dinner parties with your neighbours, sunbathing in the garden and picnics. It made the return to Boston all that much harder each time, a shocking return to reality. One that was grey and smoky and filled with FEDRA assholes looking for any excuse to shoot. But in the moment, you lived in your make believe world. Forgetting you even had to go back there. 

You could lie in the grass with Tess. And pretend. 

“ I forgot what real strawberries tasted like “ you sighed, savouring every tiny bite of the fruit Frank had brought round for you both “ this is better than sex “ 

“ that’s fuckin rude “ you smiled up at her from where your head rested in her lap, her hair tied up and shiny with the nice shampoos Bill had stocked. She always looked brighter in Lincoln. Not just because the sun was shining and there wasn’t that ever looming greyness. She glanced down at you and your final tiny bites of strawberry “ why are you eating it so slowly? “

“ I’m savouring it “ she rolled her eyes but a smile was pulling at her lips. She started running a hand through your hair, making you sigh as the sun made your body feel sleepy and warm. Safe. 

You wondered if it was what life would’ve been like if the world hadn’t exploded. Of course you knew it wouldn’t in a way. You had lived miles away from Michigan, you probably would never have met. She’d probably still be married, maybe even had another kid as well as her son. Grown old and grey with a bunch of grandkids and died safe and warm in her bed. 

You shocked yourself a little at the jealousy that bubbled up in your chest at the thought. You didn’t want to think about her with someone else. She was yours. You were hers. That was it. 

You would have met. You would have ended up how you wanted. A cosy house and friendly neighbours. Dinner parties. Picnics. Dates. Safe and warm in your bed. 

“ is this technically a date? “ you suddenly asked, opening your eyes again as you got caught up in your daydreaming. Tess shrugged, her eyes closed as she let the sun warm her face. She had a thing for fresh air, always talking about how stuffy the city air was. How she loved being outside of the walls where the air was cleaner. 

“ you want it to be a date? “ you shrugged, her voice sounding slightly teasing. 

“ forget it “

“ oh come on I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It can be a date “ she looked down at you, stroking her hand over your hair. 

“ we’ve been together for all these years and never had a date “ 

“ there’s not exactly many options in the QZ is there “ you sighed and she gave you a look riddled with sympathy “ every time we visit you get like this “ she said softly “ you… drift “ you sat up, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on your hands. 

“ because I feel normal here “ you confessed “ I can pretend. Pretend we’re normal “ it felt silly to say out loud and you waited for her to laugh at you or make a joke. But she didn’t. She just gave a gentle nod “ I don’t have to worry about getting fucking jumped on my way home because someone wants our cards, or selling pills to officers that could have us hung up the gallows if they felt like it. I can forget that we’re shitty people for a bit “ 

Tess was quiet as you spoke, letting your words hang between you. You wondered if it would stem into one of her bad moods. She liked the position you had back in Boston. She liked the power. The control. But you were growing tired of it. And you didn’t know how much longer you could keep it up. Not when you got a taste of the opposite anytime you visited Bill and Franks. 

“ then let’s pretend “ she said after a few moments, standing up and holding out her hand to you “ come on “ you took her hand and she pulled you into her arms, guiding yours around her neck before looping her own around your waist “ I worry too “ she confessed  

“ sure “

“ I do. I worry all the time. About you. There is nothing and no one else in this world that I care about as much as you. You think I like all that shit we do? I do it because it means we have food. And safety. You have food and safety “ 

“ you love that shit don’t play with me Tess “ she sighed and shrugged 

“ I like control. But if I had to give that up to keep you safe? I’d do it in a fuckin heartbeat “ she closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath “ you know. When Joel is done with the battery thing… the Tommy thing. We could lay low for a while “ you quirked an eyebrow at that 

“ you? Lay low? Yeah I’ll believe that when I fuckin see it “ 

“ I’m serious. Im getting too old for that bullshit “ the look in her eyes seemed genuine. She was serious. 

“ really? “

“ maybe we could… even stay here. For a while. I could convince them to let us stay. Bill might like having some extra help for Frank “ you pondered on it, leaving the shitty zone behind. Your illegal runs. Your drug running. Live out the rest of your days in the peace and quiet of Lincoln “ we do this final run with Joel. I’m finalising the trade with Robert for a battery. Joel is sorting the truck. We get him to Tommy in one piece and then… we come back here. Yeah? “ 

Your face lit up and you nodded, a small laugh leaving your mouth. 

“ I’d. I’d like that “ Tess smiled too, nudging her fingers under your chin and pulling you in to kiss her. 

“ hmm you taste like strawberry “ 

+ ONE

Tess was acting weird. Erratic. It wasn’t like her. You stood hopelessly with Joel as she charged around the room, chucking shit out of boxes and checking the pockets of the dead firefly’s on the floor. Searching for something. Anything. 

“ Tess. What’re you doing? “ Joel spoke before you could. You couldn’t move from where you were stood, an awful biting feeling in your chest as you watched her. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. This wasn’t your Tess. Tess wasn’t erratic and wild. She was organised. Concise. She knew what she was doing at all times and had full control of the situation. 

“ I mean there’s gotta be a map or something right? “ Joel looked over at you, eyebrows raised in some silent request for you to see what the fuck was going on with her. But you still couldn’t move “ Ellie. Did Marlene say where this hospital was? Did she say where she was taking you? “

“ no I- just some place west “

“ west. Fuckin west “ she went back to ferreting through their pockets, chucking useless shit like a pen and a pair of glasses across the room. 

“ Tess we’re done here. Let’s just go home and- “

“ that’s not my fuckin home “ she wouldn’t look at you. Even though your eyes were burning into her, she avoided your gaze. Something was wrong “ our luck had to run out sooner or later “ she said, standing up from where she’d been searching one of the bodies. 

Luck. 

Luck?

“ holy shit. She’s infected “ Ellie’s voice broke the small silence that had fallen over the group, her tone sounding pained as she said the words you had been refusing to even think about. 

The look on her face was enough of an answer for you. And it was the thing that finally made you move. You crossed the distance between you in purposeful strides, stopping in front of her 

“ show me “ 

“ look I- “

“ show. Me “ you watched her jaw clench as she grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled it down to reveal exactly what was wrong with her. 

A set of teeth marks surrounded by angry, red skin. Blood was oozing out of the wound, a colour too dark to be normal. But the worst part? You could see the tendrils of the fungus under her skin, raised in her veins as they crawled closer and closer to her brain. The bite was on her shoulder and the fungus was already reaching up the side of her neck. How fast did it move? How long had it been since you’d ran into the clickers? 10 minutes ago? If that? 

They had been the only run in youd had. It had been the only possible place she could’ve gotten bitten. In 10 minutes it was already spreading that far? 

Your mind rushed back to the museum. The clickers that had rushed you, separating you both from Joel and Ellie. The way she had pushed you out of the way of one of them. But she had killed it. How could it possibly have…

“ oops, right? “ she said quietly, eyes glassy with tears that she seemed to be desperately attempting to hold in. Your brain refused to process the information. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

It was Tess. Strong and brave and smart Tess. Tess that killed infected like it was nothing. That had lasted 20 fucking years and never been bitten. Tess that was taking you to Lincoln to live out the rest of your days in safety. 

“ Tess- “ she pushed past you and headed for Ellie before you could say anything else, her mind clearly preoccupied. 

“ bandage off. Show me your arm “ you watched her grab Ellie’s arm, ignoring your presence now and talking to Joel. Her mouth was moving but your ears were ringing too loud, not focussing on what she was saying. Watching as her hand started shaking, twitching. It was attacking her nervous system already. 

How long would it be until it was in her brain? Controlling and taking over the mind of the woman you loved. Claiming her body as it’s own, her thoughts, her feelings, turning her into an empty shell of a human. A puppet. 

Your fingers prickled with the lack of air entering your lungs, anxiety overwhelming you, your chest tight and head light. The sudden realisation of what was happening crashing down on you, suffocating you with a heavy weight on your chest that made it feel as though your lungs were collapsing. 

“ oh shit you’re not infected too are you? You don’t look right man “ both Tess and Joel turned to you as Ellie spoke, her voice sounding echoed and far off. 

“ I think I’m having a heart- a heart attack “ you gasped, shaking your head and grabbing at your chest. She appeared in front of you, hands reaching out to you before pulling them away again. 

“ you’re not having a heart attack “ Joel was talking again, but you couldn’t hear him. Your eyes were locked on hers, the tears she’d been holding back silently rolling over her cheeks. She reached out for you again and actually let herself touch you this time. Her hands were trembling as she placed them on your arms. Was it the infection? Or was she scared? Or was it both? 

“ Tess- “

“ shhh let me talk I don’t have a lot of time “ your eyes fell down to the bite mark peaking over the collar of her shirt and she squeezed your arms lightly “ hey. Up here. Look at me not that “ you dragged your eyes back up to her face. Even if it was just so you could burn it into the backs of your eyelids, every single line and scar and freckle that it held “ Joel’s gonna get you and the kid to Bill and Franks- “

“ I’m not- “

“ shut. The fuck up. You get to Bill and Franks they’ll know what to do with the kid. And hey. They love you, they’ll let you stay there with them even if I’m not there- “

“ I’m not going to fuckin Bill and and Franks without you “

“ yes you are. Get the kid there. Bill and Frank they’ll look after you. They owe me “ before you could protest again you startled as one of the body’s on the other side of the room suddenly moved, screeching before Joel shot it in the head. 

There was a commotion somewhere outside, drawing Joel over the door of the building. You looked down at the man he’d just shot, the moss and earth beneath his fingers moving. You’d heard that the fungus could grow underground, knew it could connect colonies of infected miles apart. Is that what it was? Drawing a whole heard of infected in your direction? 

“ how many? “ Tess asked 

“ all of em “ she gave a small nod, hastily wiping away her tears and leaving you again. You watched her as she started pushing barrels over, tossing boxes of grenades and ammo onto the floor. 

“ what are you doing? “ 

“ making sure they won’t follow you “ your ears were ringing again, head aching as the fumes from the barrels drifted into your nose. 

Your hands slipped into your hair, pulling at it in a way that surely made you looked mad. But you needed to feel your scalp prickle with pain, something to wake you up from the fucking nightmare you were living through. 

You watched her talking to Joel again, shaking your head as you tried to wake yourself up. Waiting to feel her hands pull you into her arms and tell you it was okay. It was all a dream and you were safe.

But it didn’t come. You were awake. You were living the nightmare. 

You heart was aching in your chest. You felt as though you could feel each and every heartstring snapping. You had often wondered how after so many of millions of years that human beings had walked the earth, living and adapting to their surroundings, they had not evolved enough to not feel the splintering pain of heartbreak. How had humans evolved so thoroughly, so much that they could adapt to live even after the world had gone to shit. Trained themselves to use guns and knifes to protect themselves yet left their hearts so delicate, so vulnerable that something as fickle as love could cause such a gut wrenching pain.

You’d much rather take a knife to the gut or a bullet to the head. You were certain it would hurt less. 

She reappeared in front of you a few moments later. Her hands cupped your face and you wrapped your fingers tightly around her wrists. 

“ I love you. I’m sorry I never told you as much I should’ve “ she was saying goodbye

“ I’m not fuckin going anywhere Tess you can stop with bullshit goodbyes”

“ you’re gonna get out of here. And go to Bill and Frank. And you’re gonna grow old as them fuckers, you’re gonna be safe. And eat strawberries. And paint with Frank and lay in the sun. You’re gonna live. The way that you’ve always wanted to “ she didn’t get it. Didn’t understand. You wanted those thins. But only if she was there with you. Not alone “ they’ll look after you “ 

“ you look after me “ she closed her eyes, shaking her head as tears kept flowing down both of your faces. 

“ I can’t anymore “ she whispered. 

The noise outside was growing louder, hundreds of infected barely a minute away. 

“ I’m staying here. With you “ she shook her head again and pressed her forehead to yours for a second. 

“ I’m sorry “ your brow furrowed “ Joel “ you realised what was happening a second too late. Joel’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist, lifting you from your feet 

“ let me fuckin go! Put me down! Joel! “ you thrashed and kicked and punched but Joel was stronger than you, no reaction to your squirming as he dragged Ellie along with his other hand. Tears streamed down your face as you craned your neck to try and see her, every ounce of energy you had being used to try and break free of Joel’s tight grip “ Tess! Joel please! Please we can’t leave her. We can’t! Joel! “ 

It wasn’t until you were outside that you managed to break free. 

Only because the building exploding behind you sent the three of you flying, landing face down in the grass. You rolled over, eyes wide as you took in the site before you. Flames licked out of the windows, engulfing the building and all of the infected inside. 

And Tess. 

Some part of you still refused to accept it, making you scramble to your feet without your full consent or knowledge. Stumbling back towards the building only to have Joel’s arms wrap tightly around you again. 

“ it’s over. It’s over “ 

“ no! No! “ Joel’s arm stayed tightly around you as you fell to your knees, sobs wracking your body. 

Because you had no one left. 

Tess was gone. And you were on your own. 

[hauntedwitch04]

Little piece of paradise

Dean Winchester x reader

Words: about 1.2k words

Warnings: none, just some sad-happy memories, and a lot of fluff

Author’s note: Hi everybody! Finally I managed to write something after the crazy week I had, hope you enjoy! With love your witch Becky.

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DAY 5: “I don’t need paradise, mine is right here with you, cooking a pie while you dance and sing an old rock song, dreaming about our future”

Dean Winchester always firmly believed that he did not deserve heaven. Not even after all the years he spent fighting evil, defending humanity and all the hell he went through, he always believed that he did not deserve any form of grace. Everything changed, however, the day he met you. You were always like an angel, or rather how he imagined angels before he found out they were a bunch of assholes, except for Castiel. You've always been like a ray of sunshine on a rainy day to the oldest of the Winchester brothers, not because you were exactly a saint, since on the contrary, you too are a renowned hunter, known for your prowess in beating and killing all monsters you encounter. No, your greatness lies in the fact, according to Dean, that despite all the nastiness you have suffered from fate and all the monsters you have encountered, you never betrayed yourself and remained who you were: a good and kind person, ready to help others, and always ready to offer a smile when she can, but without letting people take advantage of you. Dean knows that he could go on for hours talking about all the things he likes best about you: your taste in music, which first brought you together in that remote bar in the provinces; your intelligence, which never failed to amaze him every time; your sarcasm, which made sure from the start that you stood up to him and put him in his place several times; or your goodness, which comes out every time you see someone in need, but if anyone were to really ask him what he loves about you, it's seeing you cook. We all know that Dean has a sweet tooth, but what drives him crazy is not your cakes per se despite the fact that they are some of the best he has ever had, but seeing you actually bake them. When you bake you enter a world of your own, and you can finally be free from the oppressive life that has been foisted on you from upstairs. This is precisely why Dean likes to hide behind the door and watch you dance to the beat of the music, humming, while you are caught up in preparing just-god-knows-what.

As soon as Dean walks in, he realizes that all he could hear in your house was the sound of your voice humming Elton John's "Rocket Man," and immediately a smile breaks out on his face. He walks to the kitchen door and sees you pouring something into a saucepan on the stove as you dance lightly to the music. The man remains a few minutes contemplating that sight, when he is interrupted. "Are you going to stay there much longer, or are you going to come and greet your wife properly, instead of staring at her like a maniac?" You ask, still with your back turned, but he knows perfectly well that you had heard him since he entered the house. He smiles and enters the kitchen, to come behind you and embrace you from behind with his strong arms. He rests his face on your shoulder and breathes in the smell of your shampoo, his favorite scent in the world. "Hello love." He says, in a low voice, as if not wanting to spoil the magical atmosphere that had formed. "It took you a while to get in Winchester, I thought you had frozen at the door." You answer with a smile as you continue to finish what you were doing. "You can't blame me for being thunderstruck by my wife's beauty." He continues, leaving you a gentle kiss on your shoulder, then leaning in a little and looking at what you were doing. "There's no need to soften me up, you know that, don't you? I've already married you, I can't escape now." You say with a laugh as you contemplate your work. "Already now you are officially mine, and mine alone." He whispers into your neck as he tightens his arms around your waist. "But listen to you, you sound like an overly possessive child with his favorite toy." You retort, turning around, making sure you are face to face with him. Immediately you feel his scent, which you love so much, invade your nostrils. "What can I do, I'm possessive of the things I love." He says, before kissing you on the lips this time. "But that's Sam's favorite cake." He then affirms, taking a good look at what you had just finished making. "Yours is already baking in the oven." You answer, making it obvious as you enjoy the feeling of being held in his arms. "Oh what have I done to deserve you?" Dean asks, before kissing you again, this time longer. "Do you want the list in chronological order or alphabetical order?" you retort, looking him in the eye, making him blush. You remain silent for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of each other's body heat. Time almost seems to stand still, and even the volume of the radio seems to lower.

"You know since I was about eighteen years old, and a woman threatened me that I would never go to heaven for all the evil things I had done, I've always been afraid of dying in part, because a part of me aspired to get to that place full of peace and calm, to finally be happy." Confesses Dean, under his breath, against your neck. You are almost afraid to breathe, for fear of ruining the moment, when he continues to speak. "But ever since I met you, I've realized a great truth. I don't need paradise, mine is right here with you, cooking a pie while you dance and sing an old rock song, dreaming about our future." He finishes with a whisper, and you can't help but feel warm tears roll down your cheeks as you also feel your husband's tears wet your shirt. You pull his face up from your neck and stare into his eyes, then take him with you to the front of the oven, where just moments before the timer had sounded, signaling that the cake is ready. "Open." You tell him, and he looks at you confused, but cannot help but follow orders. Once you pull out the pie, Dean is out of breath as he looks at you shocked, and feels new tears come to his eyes fast and hot, but this time not of mixed sadness and joy, this time just of pure happiness. On the cake in front of him is written above a simple sentence, but that moment totally turned his world upside down. See you in 9 months dad. "How long have you known?" Dean finally manages to say, still reeling from shocks of adrenaline coursing through his body. "Since this morning." You confess. "Are you happy?" You ask him, and he can't help but give a toothy grin, then hug you tightly, lifting you off the floor and spinning you around the kitchen, while you can't help but laugh and cry with joy. "I am the happiest person this earth has ever seen, and it's all because of you." He says, leaving a sweet kiss on your nose and making your foreheads touch. "Finally we can stop dreaming about the future, because we are living it." You say, smiling at him. "Yeah, we're living our little piece of heaven." He confirms, smiling at you in turn.

[writingforatwistedworld]

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, imprisonement, death, unhealthy relationship

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

Vil Schoenheit-Sweet Poison (Sneak peek pt. IIX)

Being trapped in a tower was nightmare material. There were exactly three activities you were able to do. The first one was to look out of the window. Seeing the servants scurry around like ants made you remember your time when you were one of them. Oh, how you wished to return to the days on which your greatest concern was if the bread in the oven was burned and if you had to eat burned crumbs that day. How simple-minded you were. Laughable. Safe to say the curtain covered the window after the first two days.

The second activity was staring at the door and waiting for a familiar face to appear. Two out of three possible visitors were always met with pure joy and the wish to hug the living daylights out of them. Your friends the hunter and Epel weren’t allowed to enter through. Only a muffled conversation through the door was possible.

The third but also only person who was allowed to enter was one who you wished to see never again though. Whenever Vil decided to grace you with his oh-so-gracious presence you wanted to hide in a corner. But alas, you don’t bite the hand that feeds you so that was out of the window. Hours were spent sitting in silence in front of the blonde king. Vil didn’t seem to mind though, being more than just content with you listening to his ramblings, most of the time talking about court business and how he wished you could be there. Then a rant about your safety would start.

The last activity was reading. Being oh so kind Vil left some books in the many bookshelves lining the walls. Nothing too interesting though. The books about poisons and other subjects that could be seen as dangerous more than just apparently having been taken out leaving gaping emptiness on some of the shelves. But you took what you could get so you read.

It was a neverending limbo. Every morning you asked yourself when this torture would stop. At some point, you even asked yourself if this was all a dream and if one day you would wake up in your bed back home. Your real home, the one in the other world. But of course, things couldn’t be so easy. Day after day after day after day you watched the sun rise and fall through small slits in the curtain. The violet all over the room started to hurt your eyes.

And you most likely would have forever been a prisoner in this golden yet also so mind-numbing cage if it weren’t for a bird. A raven. Most curious little thing. Hearing something tap against the window you had ripped the violet piece of fabric, your gaze falling onto the black bird. From that day on the small thing was your best friend. Maybe that was the case since you had been starved of interaction with the outside of maybe because someone always tied small letters to the claws of the bird. A month earlier and you would have run in panic to Vil, now you literally showed him metaphorically the middle finger and accepted the pieces of paper with joy.

At first, the conversations were light and not too scheming. The person on the other end told you that a certain friend of yours, Rook, told them that you were living in the tower and had little to no company. Over time things started to circle more around how you could possibly escape and to be honest, you wanted to leave this place. If your tortured state of mind wasn’t reason enough then you didn’t know what would be.

But of course, things were never that easy. Vil started to visit you more and more. The last few days he even brought little trinkets for you… although it was arguable how something could be called “small” if they could feed an entire family for an entire month easily. It was like he was trying to compensate for something. Of course it didn’t though.

Today Vil once more visited you. This time he had handed you a comb, made out of gold and made with the best handcraft that you had ever seen in this world. Sitting behind you he combed with calm movements through your hair, stopping sometimes to look at how it shone in the light. All whilst doing that he hummed a small tune. You had to admit, it was a nice feeling. Being starved for social interaction, even if it was getting your hair combed, you were desperate for the tiniest bit of it. Closing your eyes you allowed yourself to drown in the soothing movements.

“You seem to get used to this place. I am glad that you are capable of understanding that you can not leave.” And that was it with the calm atmosphere. Although you didn’t react in any way that could be interpreted as unease you could still not calm the feeling stirring in your chest. It was not a good one.

“Did you like your meal yesterday? I noticed that you had been eating more.” No. You didn’t. The only reason why you forced yourself to eat although it felt like stones were in your stomach was because you didn’t know how you were going to live once you escaped your cage. What if you would need to hide in the woods for a long time and didn’t have enough to eat? No, you could not risk that.

Nodding nonetheless Vil let out a happy chuckle. “You made me worry. I thought you would never forgive me.” Hearing his words you suppressed a wince. Partially due to no, you had not forgiven him but also because his grip on your hair tightened, the comb being stuck in your hair. Vil had let go of the piece of gold, now being lost in his own thought process. “I guess I can count myself as a lucky person…”

Huh. Interesting. Usually the young king was someone who knew what he wanted but now he sounded so uncertain. Looking at the reflection of a mirror in the room you watched how he reached up once more to the comb, carefully untangling it from the strands of hair. After finally holding it once more in his hands he stared at it. “I will try to get you something bigger next time. Maybe some accessories…”

Accessories? You could sell those! Nodding a bit too fast to appear natural you agreed with his proposal. Thankfully, he seemed to be so happy about your reply that he didn’t notice. Hugging you from behind the blonde buried his face in your shoulder. “I am glad that you are here.”

Ouch. Why did you now feel like the bad guy of you two? How unfair. You were the one caged in a tower! Feeling him snuggle against you, you asked yourself how he would react if he found out about your plan. It took everything within you to stop yourself from shuddering, your imagination running wild. Remembering how his sharp fingernails buried into your skin, how he looked with your blood on his fingers, not even noticing the red liquid all whilst having an unhinged look in his eyes you hoped to never be in a situation in which you would experience that again. Sadly, your acting skills seemed a bit rusty. Halting his movement Vil threw you a look that said “their reaction is weird.”

“Everything alright, dear?” Nodding once more you hoped that you were more convincing this time. To your luck he took your reaction and didn’t question it… though he did look at you questioning for a second longer. “If you say so…”

Lifting his fingers to your hair he tangled them into it, gently running those claws through the strands. Fidgeting a bit with your fingers you felt questions prodding at you once more. Since the moment you were trapped here you had nothing but riddles in front of you. Heck, you didn’t know why you were even here. The rambling of Schoenheit was certainly not giving you answers. He did tell you that you would be trained to be a regent by his side but until now nothing of that nature had happened. Taking a deep breath you calmed yourself down before finally daring to ask him the question. “If you allow me to ask, why am I even here.”

Vils movement halted. The temperature in the room dropped intimidating fast. Swallowing you looked at the blonde on your shoulders. He was staring at you. Immediately you wished you had continued to look into the mirror, at least your gaze wouldn’t have crossed his. His cold gaze made you feel like you were sitting outside during a very cold winter. Rubbing your hands together you hoped to ward off the cold that was slowly creeping into your bones. “How curious of you to ask.”

Standing up from his position the young king made his way over to the window. With a sneer, he opened the curtains a tiny bit before he, dare you say violently, closed them again. “Let’s just say that I need you here.”

With that he turned around and made his way toward the door. His heels clicked with a sound against the marble under them that could only be described as “cold”. Lowering your gaze you looked onto the floor, not being able to continue looking as he put the key into the keyhole. The key, your freedom, in his hands. You despised it and if you could you would make him dance in hot iron shoes till his end, just how the evil queen in the original Snow White died.