#out of my half asleep delirium

[localfanbaselurker]

Yall know the drill!! Let’s get it baby!!

Watching Voltron: LD for the First Time and Saying What I Think

S1-2 | S3 | S4 | S5 | S6 | you are here! | S8

upon formatting this debrief/review, I realized quite quickly that I was gonna run out of the image limit too soon, no matter how many collages I made, so some ideas are better if you specifically remember scenes. Click on images for better quality! I apologize, I only have tumblr on mobile. please enjoy this edition anyway!

Pre-Season 7 Thoughts

-> I said in my S6 post that I thought it could be a decent ending if some strings were finally tied, so hopefully this season clears those up

-> S6 was pretty intense at the end, hopefully they tone it down a notch as they go on their little earth roadtrip

-> the aftermath of Lotor dying is definitely something that will weigh on Allura. Hopefully she doesn’t get too torn up about it

-> I’m really curious as to how the new team dynamics will play out now that Kieth is back as black paladin. Will they go back to s1? s3? Will they just act like nothing??

-> really wanna scene where keith calls krolia mom for the first time

-> what is with this ���game show” episode??

-> I’m curious as to how ships will play out now.. Lance seems to be okay with Allura not liking him back after s6, their talk was really nice. As much as I think they look cute together, Allura needs time to get over Lotor first, and Lance seems to be already moving on.

-> now that Kieth is back, I wonder if there was more “klance moments” for people to go crazy over

->also where has Matt been this whole time??

-> them going to earth will probably explore their families, and i really wanna see more of their lore. (Especially keith)

->Hopefully shiro finally gets a break after everything. I’m excited to see who this love interest of his is!!

Post-Season 7

-> holy fuck. yall did not lie. that was…intense.

->ultimately I did not get my pre-s7 wish then.

-> I really liked all the keith/shiro lore about their relationship. It was really sweet. Shiro was the first person (besides his dad I guess) to show him patience and kindness. That’s so heartwarming.

->added to all the motifs and references to them saving each other,,very sweet. I love found family stuff like that. so i very much liked that episode (besides the “tiny” subplot lolz)

-> Romelle (as opposed to the name I gave her: “sailor moon altean girl”) is actually so real. She and hunk have the same “only normal one” vibe and i respect that.

-> literally where was haggar/honerva this whole time. Did she take a sabbatical or something??

->this image is so chaotic…literally what are yall doing 😭

->cosmic wolf (Kosmo, apparently) dgaf I love him

-> Allura is such a cutie.. “but I’m terrible at drawing! 😔” I love her so much

->^hunk upgraded his bayard!! Yayyyyy! More character development!!!

->Axca is back! (I have since long stopped calling her “space asami girl”)

-> i think she’s a really interesting character. While the other of Lotor’s generals go for whatever seems right for them, (as you should in war) she seems to calculate things on a matter of both that and morality, while also looking at the big picture. “Well, this would save my ass, save the universe from chaos, and be morally intact…sounds good”

->^is this the klance moment? seems a little sad tbh. why Lance is like that “wait where are you going?” relax bro he’s not gonna disappear

-> they’ve been gone FOR THREE YEARS????

-> what the FREAK.

-> imagine now how their families have missed them 🙁 I’m actually so sad abt that ☹️

->the game show ep…was really funny. Idk where yall got all this angst from. New mission: write a fluff one shot post-game show.

->^i literally cannot get over this??? Like.. they could’ve really made him say anything else. “because mullet here would punch you to the end of eternity if he didn’t get out *smirk*” or something like that but no it /had/ to be that. And the others thought it was odd too, I mean look at their expressions.

->And same goes for Keith??? If you don’t wanna spend an eternity with Lance just pick yourself?? There had to be another reason. If they made all the other characters say insightful and heartfelt things about one another, why can’t Keith say anything?

-> I think because keith and Lance chose each other, making both of them say nice things would drive you guys a little crazy, so I think they tried to just “klance-proof” (like baby-proof) this season by making them barely interact unless it’s a battle or doing so in a s1/2 way

->Because otherwise keith acted…really out of character..? I think it might be to his growth on the quantum abyss trip, but it just felt so odd to watch him this season

->the “floating in space” episode was actually super interesting to watch. Going space crazy caused for their truest thoughts and desires to come out from the dark. (going to earth, what they think about each others’ actions) I thought that was really cool.

->KEITH CALLED KROLIA MOM!!! IT HAPPENED!! OMG. SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP FALLING TO MY KNEES AT WALMART!!!!!!!!🫡💪🔥🔊🗣️

->Krolia and kolivan definitely explored each other’s bodies idgaf. Kolivan is the dad that stepped up fr.

->Colleen Holt is an icon. She’s a girlboss. She’s a legend. I love her so much. Sam better watch out 🤛👊🤜

->^from “who is this divaaaa 😍😍” to “OMG GIRL LANCE??? 😮😁” to “OMG LANCE’S SISTERRRRR😆🤩”

->^is this not the “the pilot crashed!” girl from 1x01??

->tbh i literally could give less of a fuck about these people. The girls seem cool I guess. But I don’t really care about any of them.

->also no way they deadass named a dude kinkade. That was wild even for them (I’m so sorry if it’s a cultural thing)

->^I love it when they do little homage bits like referencing back s1 or 2 like this

->^screaming crying throwing up.

->^^that hug between pidge and her mom..i felt that. that shit was personal. Ya’ll see the way she held on to her? Diabolical work. (I’m tearing up as I type this)((that’s exactly how I’ve held my mom b4))

->^^^“uncle lance!” STOP. DON’T DO THIS TO ME. I CAN’T DO THISSSSSS *screams*

->HUUUNNNKKKK. MY BOYYYYY. UGHHHHHH. I’m gonna die

-> I will say this tho, I’m glad he’s getting a lot of focus and attention his way these last few seasons (6&7). Like yes!! Give the realest mf in the whole show the attention and appreciation he deserves!!!

->I was so happy when he got his parents back like I genuinely did a little celebratory dance (jumping up and down and going “yes!yes!yesyesyesyes! yeeeessssssss!” while doing exaggerated hand gestures)

->Adam fucking died.

->not even one scene showing his and shiro’s positive interactions. or them being romantic. one and a half scenes. And then he’s gone.

-> while, for the most part, I try to understand the writers faults further than just face level, (ie netflix or dreamworks just didn’t let them explicitly put anything there) idk I just. I feel like they could’ve at least played it off as them being “good friends” or something. But to kill him off is just…it feels wrong.

->and it feels like a wrong for shiro too. He finally gets to be on earth after everything that’s happened to him, and the one thing he’d been hoping to finally see,,is gone.

->I just feel like they did shiro dirty. they can never give that poor man a break.

->^I was right! Keith is definitely acting different because of his growth on the quantum abyss (or “space whale” as people seem to call it). It’s nice to know he’s matured and stuff, and can actually say what he feels and such, be a good team member/leader. I just wish it wasn’t all off-screen. (and while I’m happy for him..I do miss his more broody early-season self a bit)

->as much as I think allurance is cute, I feel like they’re kinda rushing it. Like. by the time they got to Earth it had barely been a month of being stuck in space post-s6. Maximum it’s been 3 months by the time of the final battle. she would not be blushing. She would be mourning Lotor. They could’ve had a little subplot about that,,the crushing weight of knowing she could’ve both stopped his death and the guilty feeling of “why am i mourning him..? He was a bad person” because she still loved him!! She still loved him when they were about to leave him in the quintessence field and she felt conflicted!!

->she would’ve also not caught feelings that fast. Let’s say she somehow miraculously got over Lotor in 2 months. (minimum!) she still wouldn’t have caught feelings! Maybe she would start like. the budding processes to begin to fall for lance…but she wouldn’t be blushing and being all bashful like that.

-> basically all I’m saying is I really hope they don’t rush this. It would feel unfair to both her and Lance. Allura literally was like “oh..😕 he said that..☹️?” In s6 when the mice told her about Lance’s feelings because she felt bad about breaking his heart.

->and Lance has literally been after her for a really long time,, so it’d be unfair to pair him with someone who only started liking him like a week ago.

->I also hate the “guy pines after girl, girl doesn’t reciprocate and turns him down a lot, guy almost gives up, girl starts falling for him just as the show ends after not showing any interest previously” trope. (I am aware Allura and Lance do share some more sweet and romantic scenes/moments in s4-6, but you catch my drift, right?)

-> I really hope they put it well in s8.

->^I got to that Lance scene I’ve seen everywhere and just. Wow. it was so intense. I actually got chills. Amazing work from the animation crew yet again.

-> the final battle was sooo amazing and so beautiful.

->the atlas stuff kinda threw me off tho.

->that admiral sanda girl was a bitch (i do not use that term lightly, especially for female characters) and not to sound like a maniac im glad she died ngl. She was stupid as hell if she thought her plan would work.

->also if the galra can invent something that can easily overpower Voltron, then why don’t they just take over the universe themselves?? They clearly have the resources to.

->seriously the atlas’s stuff was insane. Fym it’s a ship that makes a bigger, cooler, grizzled Voltron??(yes I will forever use that joke)

->^because like. Then what do you need Voltron for??

->like the pacing and plot twists and shit felt so off and out of nowhere this season.

->and the real kicker was the altean chick controlling that giant monster thang. literally what the freak. where the cameras at I know I’m getting pranked right now. they were just pulling shit out of their asses by then.

->again, need to say, if it weren’t for that altean chick, this could’ve also been a good ending?? like after reading the Wikipedia page I found out they had a 72 episode contract, so they need to get those last episodes out, (76 total, I did the math) but if anything I think it would be best if it was just a little anthology sort of thing. Like them defeating the rest of the galra left out, freeing planets, and focusing on their own lives and relationships (during and after). That would be probably the best course of action for s8.

->but apparently it has a “bad ending” (which I’m pretty sure is just ship stuff and people exaggerating)

->erm yeah that’s pretty much it. I think. Yay!

These are thoughts I compile over time. I finished Season 7 on 10/12/24. I apologize for my delay on posting this, I was meant to post it last week. I will now finally start what you have probably all been waiting for: Season 8.

Remember, my ask box is always open!! Feel free to ask anything on my opinions and such!!

[monster-disaster]

[wolf-shifter] Rome + NSFW Alphabet

wolf-shifter!Rome x human!Reader Warnings: smut

Summary: Let's get to know Rome a bit better.

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

Rome is mushy and pussy-drunk after having sex with you. Taking care of you when you are still trembling and breathless is mostly about him caressing your heated skin while his knot is still inside you, stretching your walls and keeping his cum where it belongs.

"You were so good, sweetheart," he hums next to your ear while you are on his chest, half-asleep. His warm breath fans over the soft curve of your neck and shoulder. "Can't wait to see you with my pup. You will be so pretty." Even the thought is enough to make his cock twitch in your pussy for another round.

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

He doesn't really have a favorite body part when it's about himself, but he is pretty content with the body he has, human or wolf form. He loves the fact that he is strong enough to protect you and manhandle you anytime he wants.

Rome is a simple male. He loves everything about you. He lives for those moments when you are close to your climax, and your eyes become unfocused while your swollen lips open with a hoarse moan. He loves your tits, of course, and your ass and your pussy and everything he can touch and kiss and caress.

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

No matter how much he loves seeing you covered in his cum, his desire to start a family with you is much more urgent.

"Come on, sweetheart," he coos while keeping his gaze between your thighs. He watches his cum leaking out of your pussy, making a mess on the white sheet under your body. "You have to keep it inside to make it work." A slow grin pulls on his face. "The more of my cum you lose, the more I have to fuck you to make up for it."

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

He doesn't have secrets. Rome is more than happy to tell you every dirty thing he does or thinks just to see your reaction.

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

Rome is no womanizer, but he can play with your body like he would with an instrument. He knows how to make you tremble in his embrace and drive you wild with desire.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Call him boring, but doggy style is what makes him feral every time he has the chance to pull you underneath himself.

Your fingers dig into the mattress under you, trying to keep yourself grounded while Rome's chest against your back pushes you deeper into the white-hot delirium that weighs down your mind. One of his large hands is on your hips while the other gropes your breast. Your nipple is hard and sensitive in his palm. The wolf-shifter's cock moves in and out of your messy cunt with rapid speed. "Fuck, love," he grunts breathlessly. "Cum for me, sweetheart, milk my cock."

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

He can play and joke around at the beginning, but his desire for your warm, pliant body takes over his brain rather quickly.

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

In his wolf form, Rome is covered in thick, dark fur that works as a furnace every time he holds you in his arms.

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

Rome is an intense lover. He can be romantic, but overwhelmingly so. He pushes you until he is your whole world in that moment.

J = Jack off��(masturbation headcanon)

Before your relationship, Rome touched himself regularly while imagining you. Now that you two are together, he doesn't really feel the need to masturbate.

A thin layer of sweat glistens on his naked body while his chest heaves with pleasure. The image of you spread out on his bed, covered in his scent lingers in front of his eyes. "Fuck," he grunts breathlessly. His still half-hard cock is in his hand with your cum-soaked, stolen panties around his shaft.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink with some humiliation.

"This sweet pussy is mine from now on," Rome growls into the curve of your neck, nipping the soft skin with his sharp canines. "I'm gonna stuff it full of my cum until you scream." Waves of arousal run along your spine at his words. While your mind is still unsure about your demanding relationship with the shifter, your body is desperate for more. "Come on, sweetheart," he breathes into your ear, pushing his erection to your center. His shaft slides over your wet slit. "Beg me to fuck you, love. I want to hear you scream for me." You are paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the male above you. Your mind is a desperate mess. "Say it," Rome demands. "Say you want my cock in your pussy. Tell me you want my seed inside you."

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers the privacy of your home and the comfort of your bed with your scent all around him.

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

He is a horny, desperate male who waited long enough for you. No matter what you do, it turns him on, and before you can blink, he is all over you.

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

He says no to anything that can be dangerous for you.

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

Both. Both is good.

No matter how many times you give him a blowjob, the wolf's reaction is the same. His mind goes blank the moment he feels your lips around his erection, sucking him deeper into your throat while your tongue slides down on his shaft until he is soaked in your saliva.

And he feels the same every time he has the chance to settle down between your legs with his face in your pussy. His claws dig into the soft flesh of your thighs to keep them in place around his head. His long tongue licks over your slit, prodding your throbbing clit before going down again to push into your hole while you shake and plead underneath him.

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

Rome often tries to be slow and sensual to savor the moment with you in his arms, but it never lasts long. He is an intense lover. He likes to play rough while manhandling you easily, and the male knows it makes you excited, too.

"Fuck, love," Rome groans close to your ear while holding your legs down in a mating press position. "You like this, don't you?" Your pussy started milking his cock the moment he grabbed your legs to put you the way he wanted you while bullying your tight hole without slowing down.

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

As it was said before, he is a horny boy. He needs quickies to keep his sanity during the day.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he grunts, pushing down on your back to keep you against the kitchen counter. The throbbing head of his cock glides over your already wet slit. "I will be quick. I promise."

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

The shifter enjoys trying out new things with you, but usually, you are the one who comes up with new ideas.

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

Usually, by the time Rome is done with you, you are delirious and half-conscious. He can go until you are a sensitive, begging mess, and he finds pride in it.

When it comes to his heat or rutting season, you are excited and scared at the same time. Days can go by without barely any sleep because every time you are ready to rest a bit, the wolf is already on you, chasing his release.

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

He is not against toys, and if you buy one, he is happy to try it out, but he prefers using his fingers and tongue on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Rome loves taunting you during dirty talk, but he doesn't have enough self-control to edge you or deny your orgasm. 

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

He is a wolf-shifter. He is not loud but intense with all the growling, groaning, and moaning.

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

His desire to make you the mother of his pups is not just a kink. He really wants to start a family with you. He helps and supports every way he can during your pregnancy, and if you decide to go back to your career, Rome is more than happy to stay at home and take care of everything else. He is a great parent and a loving partner.

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

In his wolf form, he is even taller. Rome is lean, with hard muscles and dark fur all over his body. His cock is long with a slight curve that reaches every sensitive spot in you and a thick knot at the base that fills you up to the point you can't think.

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

He has a high sex drive, especially during his rut. When his mind is clouded by his desire for you, the man becomes unstoppable.

"Rome!" You groan, holding onto the edge of the bed with every intent to get up while his arm is heavy and firm around your middle. "Just one more time," he hums, letting his tongue lick over the soft curve of your neck. His erection rubs against your thigh as he rocks his hips desperately. "Just one more, and you can go," he lies. "I promise."

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He always makes sure you are asleep before he closes his eyes after sex. Usually, he doesn't have to wait long since he tends to fuck you half-conscious.

[goblinontour]

And Seek Delirium

oh, he’s so in love

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

warnings: lawyer!alex (loosely), smut, (slight) sub!alex, handjob, fucking, rimming (f receiving), and one finger goes in briefly, begging, he’s down bad and clingy, think that’s all (no cocobolo)

word count: 6.8k

You had barely settled into bed when the intercom buzzed, loud enough to cut through the pillow you’d been pressing over your ears, pulling you from the soft cocoon. You groaned, dragging the pillow over your head as if it might somehow muffle the obnoxious sound. No such luck. It rang again, louder this time. The buzzing persisted, insistent, demanding your attention until you finally caved, throwing the covers off and scrambling over to answer.

You groaned, rolling over and scrambling toward the receiver. “Hello?” you said, half-expecting what was coming and knowing exactly who was coming but too tired to be sure.

On the other end, Alex’s voice crackled through. “I’m here. I’m here.” he announced, almost triumphant, a little too loud, a little too slurred. That slur in his words made it obvious. He’d been drinking. Hard.

He sounded winded too, like he’d just run to your building when he realised how late it was, probably trying to make up for lost time. You could picture him now, leaning against the wall downstairs, his face probably pressed and squished to the cold metal of the intercom, his breath warm and sticky from whatever he’d been drinking. His words were muffled and lazy, like he was talking with his mouth almost right up against the speaker.

The thought made you smile, even if he was a little late. Okay, a lot late. He had probably been knocking back drinks with some people he was handling business with, forgetting about the time until the alcohol caught up to him.

“I was already in bed.” you sighed, resting your forehead against the wall. You weren't really mad, just...tired. He was supposed to be here hours ago, but you knew how these nights went.

He laughed softly, a low rumble that vibrated through the intercom. “That’s perfect. I’ll just get in with you. Let me in.” he mumbled, voice slightly muffled, probably because his cheek was still glued to the cold metal. 

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth betrayed you. He had a key, he just didn’t have the one for downstairs anymore. You’d lost count of how many times he’d shown up needing to be buzzed in because he was waiting for someone to come out or for you to answer, usually after he’d lost track of time doing exactly what he was doing tonight.

“I was almost asleep, babe. I’m tired.” you tried again, your voice softer this time, but still teasing him. You’d picked up on the intentions in his voice already.

There was a beat of silence on his end before you heard a soft snicker, and then “I’ll wake you up…with my penis.” he said, dragging out the words, elongating that last one like it was the funniest thing he’d ever said, followed by a self-satisfied chuckle. You could practically hear him shifting against the intercom, probably playing with the buttons like they were the most interesting thing in the world right now, no doubt drawing curious looks from any passerby.

You couldn't help it. You laughed. Despite the absurdity, despite how late it was, there was something about him when he got like this. “You’re an idiot.” you muttered, pressing the buzzer to let him in, already hearing him muttering something incoherent into the speaker as the door unlocked.

He didn’t wait for you to say anything more, probably didn’t even notice the door unlocking. It was a good thing too because, as you heard the faint click of the front door opening, you were sure he wouldn’t have made it up otherwise. His usual trick of relying on a neighbour or someone leaving the building to sneak him in had come in clutch once again. 

Alex leaned back from the intercom just in time to see the girl from the floor below heading out, probably on her way to get just as drunk as he already was. He gave her a lazy wave as he stumbled into the building, feeling victorious. His legs were jelly, his head spinning just enough that the idea of climbing the stairs felt like an Olympic event. Still, he managed, one hand braced against the railing as he took each step slowly, as if he was conserving what little energy he had left.

You could hear the faint sounds of his footsteps from the stairwell below. He could’ve taken the elevator. But he was probably too impatient, or too drunk to bother finding the button, his mind already half focused on the thought of getting to your bed. 

By the time he reached your door, he could barely remember how many floors he’d climbed, only that the light outside your apartment felt too bright and the hallway felt too narrow. He fumbled for a second, knocking half-heartedly before leaning against the door, waiting for you to let him in. 

You could hear him fumbling with the handle, cursing softly under his breath before you finally swung it open. He stumbled in, leaning against the doorframe for a moment, looking as though he’d just finished running a marathon. His hair was a mess, his jacket half-off his shoulder, and he gave you a lopsided grin that was pure, unapologetic Alex.

He straightened up, trying to appear more put-together than he actually was. His shirt was untucked, his belt buckle halfway undone as though he’d already started stripping down on the way. His grin was boyish and crooked, eyes glazed but warm as he saw you standing there in your pyjamas, rubbing your tired eyes. 

“Finally.” he slurred, stepping inside with no hesitation and immediately pulling you into a sloppy hug. His arms were loose around you, his cheek resting on top of your head. “Missed you. You look comfortable.” he slurred, his eyes already scanning the bed like it was the most inviting place on earth.

“I was comfortable.” you teased, propping yourself up on one elbow as you watched him. “You look like you could use a nap. You’re drunk.” you said, though your arms wrapped around his waist automatically. He smelled like whiskey and something sweet, and maybe the cologne he’d forgotten to apply properly before heading out. 

“A little.” he admitted, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. His breath was hot, tinged with alcohol as he spoke. “But no naps.” he said, making his way further inside with you in his arms and with a drunken swagger that had you laughing again. “I came here for...very specific reasons.”

“Oh, really? And what might those be?”

“To see you.” he mumbled, voice muffled by the fabric. Then, without missing a beat, he added, “And to use my penis, obviously.”

He didn’t waste any more time, tugging you toward the bedroom at last, though he swayed slightly with every step, his grip on your waist tightening like he needed you to keep him steady. When he finally flopped down onto the mattress, he let out a long, contented sigh, kicking off his shoes with clumsy enthusiasm.

You followed, climbing in beside him, though you couldn’t help but shoot him an amused look as he wiggled around, trying to get comfortable.

“I can’t believe you came here like this.” you muttered, shaking your head. You rolled your eyes again, but your smile softened. “You’re lucky I let you in.”

“Lucky…” he echoed, his breath evening out as his eyes fluttered closed, some exhaustion catching up with him. “Always lucky…with you.” 

You looked down at him, his tousled hair splayed out on the pillow, eyes slightly glassy but still sparkling. As you absently played with the tie around his neck, you felt the warmth radiating from him, the way his body relaxed against yours. “You know,” you said, your fingers twisting the fabric lightly, “you look really good like this. All rumpled and...well, a little ridiculous.” 

He laughed softly, the sound low and playful. “Ridiculous? Nah, I’m going for ‘debonair’.” he replied, his lips quirking into that familiar smile. You pulled him closer, using the tie to guide him into a kiss, feeling the spark ignite between you as his mouth moved against yours, warm and inviting.

“Tie me up.” he said, pulling back slightly, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. He stretched his arms above his head as if to encourage you, showcasing his muscular frame even through his shirt and inviting you to play. You couldn’t help but laugh at his boldness.

“How drunk are you?” you asked, already feeling the thrill rise in your chest as you tugged at the tie, loosening it from around his neck. 

“Don’t make me ask for it again.” he said playfully, wiggling his fingers at you as he spread his legs, making space for you to climb onto his lap. 

You positioned yourself comfortably, feeling the heat radiating between you, and took the tie in hand. “Alright then.” you said with a smirk, wrapping it around his wrists and tying it securely to the bedpost. “Let’s see how well you behave.”

“Hey, careful with that!” he teased, though there was a hint of excitement in his voice. He tested the restraints, a devilish smile on his face as he found himself effectively tied down. 

With a sudden sense of dominance, you pushed his pants down, exposing him fully. You noticed how sensitive he was, a soft gasp escaping his lips as the cool air hit his skin. It was also impossible not to notice how hard he was beneath his boxers, the fabric straining against him, barely containing the outline of his cock. His hips shifted restlessly, pushing up as if begging for your touch without saying a word, his breath quickening with every teasing brush of your fingers near his waistband.

“Come on, don’t be cruel.” he groaned, his voice thick with need, his wrists pulling slightly against the tie. His fingers flexed as if to grab onto something, anything, but he was helpless under your control, and the sight of him squirming and the way he couldn’t stop making those delightful little sounds only spurred you on further.

You trailed a single finger along the waistband of his boxers, watching his muscles tense in anticipation. His eyes were glued to your movements, pupils blown wide with lust. 

“Patience.” you whispered, deliberately avoiding the spot he so desperately wanted you to touch. 

“Patience?” he repeated, his voice full of exasperation, “I had to sit there for hours listening to those pricks talk about nothing but the damn stock market.” he groaned, shifting his hips closer, desperate for your touch. “All I could think about was you.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his confession as your fingers continued their slow, teasing dance along his skin. “Oh? Sounds dreadful.” 

“Like we’re lawyers, for God’s sake.” he continued, his voice thick with both desire and annoyance. “What the hell do stocks have to do with anything? I don’t care about any of it. All I wanted was to get out of there and have you.” His breath hitched as he tugged uselessly against his restraints, his desperation palpable as he ground up toward you again. “So, please...stop torturing me.”

You felt bad. He was cute. So you slowly pulled down the fabric of his boxers, revealing the smooth skin beneath. His erection sprang free, hard and pulsing, and you couldn’t help but admire how perfectly he filled your hand. You wrapped your fingers around him, the heat radiating from him sending a thrill through your body.

“Is this what you wanted?” you asked, your voice low and sultry as you gave him a gentle squeeze. 

He let out a desperate gasp, his head falling back against the bedpost as he writhed beneath you. “Yes…just like that…don’t stop.” he urged. 

You used your thumb and index finger to tease the tip of his cock, swirling around it and pinching.

“God, that feels amazing.” he groaned, biting his lip as he tried to keep his composure, his hips bucking slightly as he chased the sensation. 

“Yeah?” you said, stroking him gently as you took in the sight of him. “I hate giving hand jobs, you know? It’s like...ugh...I really have to do it in front of the expert?” You feigned annoyance, though a smirk crept onto your face.

“So just fuck me then, baby.” he said, voice thick with need, his breath hitching slightly as you continued your teasing. “I need you.”

You caressed his belly under his shirt, fingers tracing the lines of his abs, feeling him twitch under your touch. As you continued to stroke him, you leaned in closer, eyes locked onto his, watching the way his expression shifted between pleasure and desperation.

Your lips brushed against his ear as you whispered, “You’ve got to behave then, tied up and all.” His body responded to your words, his desire evident as he wriggled, the excitement bubbling between you. 

“Whatever you want, just...please.” he urged. You could tell he was ready, and that only fueled your own anticipation. 

“Whatever I want?” you asked as you continued to stroke him, slow. So, so slow. Your words hung in the air, daring him to offer more, testing just how far he was willing to go.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, you could see him trying to hold back a groan. “Yeah, whatever you want.” he said. He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on yours. “I’d even let you stick your fingers up my arse if that’s what you wanted.”

You paused for a moment, your grin widening at his boldness. “Oh, really?” you asked. He wriggled again, turned on by his own confession. 

“Yeah, I’m serious.” he continued, almost breathless now. “Whatever it takes, just…” 

“You really want this, don’t you?” you whispered, trailing your fingers lightly down his chest, which rose and fell with quickened breaths, and he nodded, eager but teasingly silent, waiting for you to make the next move.

“Tell me what you want, Alex.” you encouraged, your voice low and sultry. 

“Just...just touch me.” he said, and then chuckled softly. “Maybe…maybe no penetrating me right now.” He looked up at you, the amusement in his eyes giving way to raw desire. “You know what I like.” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “You always know.” 

With a sly grin, you relished his urgency. “Alright, but you’ll have to wait a little longer.” you said, your fingers brushing lightly against him, teasing him without giving in to his pleas just yet. 

“Baby.” he protested, squirming slightly against the bedpost. “Don’t make me wait.”

You chuckled softly at his impatience, your fingers now wrapping around him again, stroking him. He gasped, a low sound that echoed in the quiet room, and you watched him closely, delighting in how his body responded to every touch. 

“See? This isn’t so bad, is it?” you teased, continuing your ministrations, alternating between firm strokes and soft caresses. 

“Ugh, you’re killing me.” he groaned, his head falling back against the pillow. “You know I can’t last like this.”

“Is that so?” you replied, your voice playful. “I should just keep you waiting, then.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, and you could see the way his patience was waning. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.” he said, his eyes pleading with you. “Just let me feel you. I need you…now.”

You felt a surge of satisfaction at his desperation, but the thrill of the moment drove you to keep him on edge a little longer. “Alright, alright.” you said, finally relenting, your voice softening as you looked into his eyes. “You’ve been a good boy. I’ll give you what you want.”

You climbed off his lap to take off his pants all the way, but you left his shirt on. And he watched you like an eager puppy as you repositioned yourself, getting into the right spot. You leaned over him, brushing your lips against his, feeling the warmth radiating from his body. 

As you reached for the waistband of your own pants, he bit his lip, eyes flicking down to watch you. “You’re killing me.” he repeated, this time with a mix of longing and admiration. 

“You like it.” you shot back playfully, finally sliding your pants off and straddling him. The moment you sank down onto him, both of you let out a collective sigh of relief, and you could feel him filling you completely. 

“God, yes.” he breathed, his fingers instinctively tightening against the bedpost, the sensation of being tied up only heightening his pleasure.

You began to move slowly at first, savouring the feeling of him inside you, the connection between you two as he watched you with those dark eyes. The tension that had built up earlier was quickly transforming into something sweeter, and as you started to pick up speed, the sound of skin meeting skin filled the room.

“You feel so good.” he murmured, his voice raw as he pushed against the restraints. “Don’t stop.”

You picked up the pace, feeling the heat rise between you as you rode him. The way he reacted, each gasp, each moan, only made you work harder, and you leaned in closer, kissing him, tasting the alcohol on his lips as he responded with equal fervour.

“I could get used to this.” he panted, a smile breaking through as you pulled back slightly, wanting to see his face. “Me tied up, at your mercy...”

“Only when you behave.” you teased, your breath hitching as you leaned back and felt him hit that sweet spot deep inside you.

“Then I’ll be good.” he promised, his words slurring slightly, lost in the pleasure you were both creating together. “Just keep doing that.” 

You obeyed him, even though he was supposed to not be in control. He always had control over you. You sank down deeper onto him, feeling every inch of his cock fill you completely, stretching you in a way that made your body tremble. He let out a groan, his body tensing beneath you, completely at your mercy. You could feel his thighs quivering as you took him so deep that he couldn’t even move if he tried, his cock buried inside you with nowhere left to go. 

You pressed yourself against him, holding him so close it felt like time had stopped. His breath came in ragged gasps, his head falling back against the bedpost, his chest rising and falling beneath your hands.

You didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break the connection as you stayed there, completely wrapped around him, feeling every pulse of his body against yours. He was so deep inside you that it felt like he was a part of you, like there was nowhere left for him to go, and yet you wanted to stay just like this forever, caught in the heat, in the intensity, in the perfect, overwhelming fullness of him.

“You feel so good.” you whispered, barely able to find your voice, your body trembling as you held him inside you. He could only nod, his eyes closed.

You felt a rush of excitement surge through your veins. You pulled your top off, letting it fall carelessly to the side. Your bare skin was now exposed to him, and you could see the way his eyes widened, drinking in the sight of you. Your heart raced as you noticed how his gaze fixated on your breasts, the way they bounced slightly as you continued to move above him.

“God, you’re so stunning.” he breathed. “I want to touch them so bad.” he said, frustration lacing his tone as he strained against the tie binding him to the bedpost. “It’s killing me that I can’t reach.”

You chuckled softly, a thrill of power coursing through you. “What’s that? You can’t reach? Poor baby.” you teased, leaning in closer so he could see every detail of you. “Maybe I should let you have a taste.” 

His cock twitched inside you at the thought. He tried to lean forward, but was held firmly in place. “Don’t tease me like that.” he said, half-laughing, half-serious, as he flexed his arms in frustration. “You know how much I want to touch you right now.”

You weren't necessarily used to being this bold with him, to wielding such power and control, but something about the way he looked at you, so desperate, so hungry, made you crave it even more. “Maybe I like teasing you.” you replied. “Besides, you brought this on yourself, remember? Asking to be tied up.”

“Okay, okay, you got me.” he conceded, a grin creeping onto his face. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t give me a little taste of what I’m missing. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Take what? The way you can’t touch me? Or the way I feel wrapped around you?”

Each word you spoke seemed to ignite a fire inside him. You watched as his eyes rolled back, his lips parting in a low moan. “Both.” he gasped, the need evident in his voice. “Just���please, don’t stop.”

You relished the control you had over him, the way he squirmed beneath you, longing to break free just to feel you. “You’ll have to wait.” you said, emphasising each word as you let your breasts bounce lightly in front of his face, watching the way his eyes tracked every movement.

“Fuck-” he groaned, biting his lip as he leaned back against the pillow, straining against his bindings again, but you could see that spark of determination in his gaze. “You’re really going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” you teased, your smile widening as you continued to move, your body gliding against him, feeling the friction build between you. “You could always beg for it.”

“Please.” he said, mock seriousness in his tone but with genuine longing beneath it. “I’ll do anything. Just let me touch you.”

“What if I want you to beg harder?”

He threw his head back again, laughter mixing with pleasure as he squirmed beneath you. “You’re ruthless.” he admitted. “But fine, I’ll play along.”

“Good.” you said, leaning closer so your lips brushed against his ear. “Now, what do you want, Alex? Be specific.”

“I want to feel you, I want to touch you, I want you to let me kiss them.” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Just once. Please.”

You paused, considering his request for a moment. “Maybe if you keep being a good boy.” you teased, your fingers tracing down his chest. “You’ll get what you want.”

“Fuckinh hell.” he said. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just- just give me a chance.”

With a soft chuckle, you relented slightly, leaning down so your breasts were just inches from his face. “Alright, just this once.” you said, pulling back enough to look him in the eye. “You can touch them, but only if you promise to be good.”

“I promise.” he said, his voice filled with genuine earnestness. “I swear.”

You leaned closer, allowing him just enough space to brush his fingers against you. The moment his hands made contact, you felt a shiver run down your spine as he explored, his touch gentle yet insistent. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” he murmured. 

“I think I have an idea.” you replied breathlessly, feeling the warmth of his hands on your skin, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“Fuck, yes.” he said, his voice a husky whisper, his fingers deftly kneading and teasing. “You feel amazing.”

His hands, though tied, were still skilled, and he continued to find ways to worship you with his mouth when you leaned down and the limited movement of his arms when you allowed. 

“Faster, baby.” he urged. “I want to feel you.” You complied, your body moving instinctively to the rhythm of your shared pleasure. “Just like that, love.” he breathed as he watched you bounce on his cock. “You feel so good around me.”

“Yeah? You like it?” you teased, leaning down to kiss him deeply, your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“More than you know.” he replied, as he thrust upward, matching your movements. 

The sound of his restrained moans filled the room as you rode him, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance, his eyes pleading silently as you pushed him closer to the edge. His breath hitched, and you knew he was close from the way he bucked his hips beneath you, seeking more friction, more intensity, more of your cunt, more, more, more.

“God, you feel so good.” he groaned, his voice strained as his muscles tightened. His head fell back against the pillow for the hundredth time, and his chest heaved with each ragged breath.

You were right there with him, feeling the tightening coil of your own release building, the heat rising in your core. His eyes flicked up to you, desperate and overwhelmed, and you couldn’t help but smile as you leaned forward, your breasts brushing against his face, smothering him, with no complaints from on part.

“Fuck-” he gasped, his hands uselessly straining against the tie as he tried to pull you closer, if that was even a thing. “I’m so close.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Me too.”

And then it hit, the flood of sensation overwhelming you both at once. His hips bucked upward, and you felt him pulse inside you as he came, his body shuddering with the intensity of it. You collapsed against him, your chest pressing into his face as your own orgasm tore through you, the feeling of his cum inside of you only heightening your pleasure.

“God, yes.” you both moaned, the words coming out in unison, your voices blending together in the haze of satisfaction.

For a moment, everything was still, the only sound in the room your shared breaths, heavy and labored. You stayed there, wrapped around him, feeling his heartbeat slow beneath you as you both came down from the high. His head turned slightly, lips brushing against your skin as you both relished the closeness of the moment.

You let out a contented sigh, feeling the warmth of his body beneath you, still tied but completely at ease. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and you felt his hands flex again as he tried to reach for you.

“You’re incredible.” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. His face nuzzled against you, and you smiled, enjoying the closeness that always came with him after you’d fuck.

“You did pretty well yourself.” 

Alex chuckled, his breath warm against your skin as he shifted slightly beneath you. “You know, if you untie me, I could show you just how good I can be with my hands.”

You laughed, still catching your breath, and kissed the top of his head. “I think I like you just where you are.”

Your bodies remained entwined, the heat from your skin mixing with the lingering warmth of your shared release dripping between you. You both lay there, catching your breath, your chest still rising and falling as you rested against him. Alex shifted slightly beneath you, nuzzling his face against your chest, his breath tickling your skin.

“You really gonna leave me like this?” he asked, his voice playful, but there was a definite edge of pleading beneath it. He tugged his wrists again, trying to move, but to no avail. “Come on, love. Untie me, yeah? I want to feel you properly.”

You smiled down at him, running your fingers through his hair, feeling the dampness from sweat and heat. “You look pretty comfortable to me.” you said, tracing a finger along his jawline. “I think I like you all tied up like this. It’s a good look for you.”

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back into the pillow. “You’re enjoying this far too much.” he said, his tone half exasperated, half amused. “I didn't think you’d get such a kick out of leaving me helpless.”

You grinned. “It’s not often I get you like this, Turner. You can’t blame me for wanting to savour the moment.”

Alex let out a low, frustrated laugh, his eyes following every movement of your body. “Savour all you want.” he said, shifting his hips slightly beneath you, the motion sending a little jolt of sensation through both of you. “But you're driving me insane. I need to touch you. I think I’ve more than earned it, love. I mean, I was good, wasn’t I?”

“Good, yeah. But I’m enjoying watching you squirm. It’s cute. You’re cute.”

He groaned again, louder this time, as he shifted beneath you. “If you untie me, I’ll make it worth your while.” he promised. 

“Oh?” you asked, cocking your head to the side as you looked down at him. “What do you have in mind, Turner?”

“I’ll make you feel things you didn’t know you could feel.” he replied smoothly. “Is that convincing enough?”

You laughed softly, leaning down to brush a kiss against his lips, your tongue lightly teasing his bottom lip before you pulled back again. “You always know just what to say.”

Something in the way he looked at you, so desperate, made you finally relent. Slowly, you untied him, his wrists slipping free. 

Before he could react, you leaned in and gave him a light slap across his cheek, playful but enough to catch his attention. Just as quickly, you slipped off of him, feeling his cock fall weakly onto his stomach, a frustrated whimper leaving his lips at the loss of contact. 

You stood up, moving toward your shirt, the cool air hitting your skin as you picked it up and slipped it back on. But the second you turned away, you felt his hands grasp your hips, pulling you back. 

“Hey, hey, hey, no.” Alex growled, his grip firm as he pushed you back down onto the bed. You landed on your stomach with a soft thud, and he was on top of you in an instant, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t go.”

You glanced back over your shoulder, breathless from the suddenness. “I was just going to the bathroom.” you protested, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“No.” he said again, his voice husky with intent.

“No?” you asked, your heartbeat quickening as you felt his hands moving down your body.

“No.” he repeated, more insistent this time as he gripped your hips tightly, lowering himself. His teeth grazed your skin as he bit your ass, a sharp, playful nip. He followed it with slow, teasing kisses on both your cheeks, alternating between them. Left and right. And repeat.

One of his hands slid between your legs, spreading your cheeks apart as his other moved lower, gathering the slick remnants of his cum from you. You felt him pause for a moment, his finger hovering at your other hole. 

“Can I?” he asked, his voice full of curiosity, desire laced in every word.

You nodded, your body already responding to his touch. He pushed a finger inside, slowly, testing your limits, watching intently as your body took him in. The pressure sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. But it didn’t last long. Within moments, he withdrew his finger, deciding on something else. The next thing you felt was his tongue, hot and eager, licking at you. The loss of his digit was quickly replaced by the wet, insistent pressure of his mouth as he dove in.

“Oh, God…” you breathed, your fingers curling into the sheets. 

With one hand gripping your hip to keep you steady, his other hand slipped beneath your shirt, fingers dancing over your nipple. You couldn’t stop yourself from arching your back, pressing into him more. 

“Alex…oh, God…” you moaned. 

“Tell me how good it feels.” he said. “Let me hear you.” 

“Feels amazing.” you managed to gasp, unable to suppress the pleasure building within you. 

“Good.” he replied, satisfaction lacing his tone as he continued to lavish attention on you. 

With that, he dove back in, his focus becoming more intense. The way he licked and teased sent you further into bliss, and each flick of his tongue pushed you closer to the edge. You could feel yourself teetering on the brink, entirely lost in the sensations he was creating.

“Don’t stop.” you urged as your body instinctively responded to his every movement. The tightness in your core was almost overwhelming, and you felt like you were about to shatter at any moment.

“Never.” he promised. 

You felt his hand glide down your body, sliding between your legs to find your clit. The moment his fingers made contact, a jolt of pleasure shot through you, sharp and intense. Even drunk, Alex knew exactly what he was doing. He knew you, knew your body, and how to unravel you effortlessly.

His fingers circled your clit with just the right amount of pressure, perfectly timed with the flicks of his tongue. Every touch, every stroke, sent you higher, and your hips bucked against him, craving more. He adjusted seamlessly, his rhythm unrelenting. 

It was almost maddening how well he knew his way around you, how he could push you right to the edge with such ease. He played you like an instrument, his hand and mouth working in perfect harmony, coaxing you closer and closer to that sweet release.

Now you were completely at his mercy. Your mind went blank until you could feel that tight knot deep inside you unravelling, pulling you right to the brink of ecstasy.

“Alex…I’m so close.” you gasped, your voice shaky as you surrendered. 

“Good, let go for me.” he urged. “I want to feel you. Let it all out.”

With those words, the tension in your body snapped, and you cried out. You felt the world blur around the edges. Alex didn’t relent, continuing to lick and tease, drawing out your release as you bucked against him. You could hear your own cries mingling with his low chuckle of satisfaction.

You instinctively pushed away from him, your body too sensitive to handle any more of his relentless attention. He let you move, but not without a playful protest.

“Don’t make me chase you. You know I’ll catch you every time.”

You squealed, half-jokingly trying to push him away again, though the way your heart raced told you how much you secretly loved the idea. The heat in your cheeks gave you away, and Alex noticed. 

“What if I want you to chase me?” you teased, grinning as you tried to put some distance between you and the inevitable.

His gaze softened, but his voice dropped into that deep, sultry tone that always made your stomach flutter. “Oh, love, I will always chase you.” he promised. His hand reached out, pulling you back gently, but with a firmness that left no room for protest. “But right now.” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “I want you right here.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. The weight of him, the feel of his body enveloping yours, made you melt back into him as he pressed you down into the sheets. You were right where he wanted you, where you wanted to be, wrapped up in him, the chase ending exactly where it always did — in each other’s arms.

“God, it’s hot in here.” he murmured, shifting slightly. 

“Then take off your shirt.” you suggested. 

He shook his head. “I don’t want to move from you.” he replied, his arms tightening around you as if to emphasise his point. 

“You want me to help you?”

“Would you?” 

You nodded and moved. He let you shift away, rolling onto his back to give you better access. As you unbuttoned his shirt, you could see the excitement in his eyes, the way he watched your every move.

“A little more.” you encouraged, pulling the fabric from beneath him and tossing it aside. He stretched out, muscles rippling beneath his skin, and you couldn’t help but admire the sight. 

“I should really clean up.” you said, glancing at the mess between your legs. 

“Do I have to let you go?” 

“Just for a moment, I promise.” you replied, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips before slipping off the bed. You quickly put your clothes back on, feeling a mix of satisfaction and warmth at the sight of him still sprawled out. Naked. Carefree. 

As you returned to the mattress, Alex’s expression shifted to something more clingy. “You took too long.” he pouted, reaching for you and pulling you close once more, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“Sorry, I was just trying to be responsible.” you laughed softly, settling into his embrace.

“I don’t want you to be responsible.” he replied, his voice suddenly serious as he nuzzled into your neck. “I want you right here, with me. Don’t leave again.”

“Okay, okay, I’m right here.” you reassured him, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” he asked, his tone playful but laced with sincerity.

“Promise.” you said, tracing your fingers along his arms, feeling how he relaxed under your touch. 

“Good.” he murmured, tightening his grip around you. “I like having you close. It’s nice.” 

“It is nice.” you agreed, feeling your heart swell as you melted into him. “But you have to let me move sometimes, too.”

“Nope.” he replied stubbornly, holding you even tighter. 

You chuckled, the sound mixing with the warmth in the air. “Okay.”

You took his hands in yours, gently rubbing at his wrists when you noticed the slight red marks left from the tie. Your touch was soft, soothing, and Alex watched you with a lazy smile on his face. His eyes softened at the touch, giving way to something tender.

“Do they hurt?” you asked as you traced over the marks.

He shook his head, smiling softly. “Nah, I’m good. Actually, I really enjoyed that...and not just because I’m drunk.” he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I mean, maybe the alcohol helped me loosen up a bit, but...I liked it. A lot.”

Your heart fluttered and you squeezed his hands just a little tighter. “You’re not just saying that?”

He shook his head again, his hair falling messily into his eyes as he looked at you, his expression so sincere it almost made your chest ache. “No, I’m serious. It was...I dunno, it felt good to let go. I trust you like that.”

You smiled, feeling warmth flood through you. “I liked it too. You were good to me.”

He chuckled, his voice a little lighter now. “Good, huh? Good enough for a kiss?” he asked. 

“Yes.” you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough for him to savour it. He hummed against your mouth, clearly satisfied but always  hungry for more.

After a moment, you pulled back, resting your forehead against his as you spoke. “I need to go see the office tomorrow.” you said quietly, watching his face for any sign of protest.

He wrinkled his nose, a little pout forming. “Do I have to come too?” he asked, his voice almost childlike in its sweetness.

You laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Only if you want to.”

Alex thought about it for a second, then shrugged, that easygoing smile returning to his lips. “I trust you to choose.” he said, his voice warm and full of faith. “Besides,” he added with a playful smirk, “I’m pretty sure I’d just be a distraction.”

“You? A distraction? Never.” you teased, laughing softly as you pressed another kiss to his cheek. “But I think I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will.” he murmured, pulling you closer again, his arms wrapping around you as if he couldn’t bear to let you go just yet, not like anyone asked him to, but still. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

His warmth and sweetness completely enveloped you. “I think you might be a little drunker than you realise.” you said, though the sincerity in his voice made that a redundant statement. 

“Maybe.” he admitted, his voice soft. “Nah, I’m serious.” 

You smiled, letting the moment linger as he held you close. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” you whispered, knowing that’s what he needed to hear.

“And I’ll be here waiting.” he replied, kissing the top of your head, his arms wrapped securely around you as the night gently carried you both into sleep.

a/n: i feel like it’s kinda bad but not that bad so it’s alright. this was supposed to be waaay longer but i decided to split it into 2 fics, so i’ll post the other part soon

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Hello, Mr. Monster 8

Summary: Eros and Psyche inspired Soulmate!AU, Morpheus x female OC/reader

Master list

Chapter Warnings: SMUT A/N: So... I did a sneaky in this chapter. First one to guess correctly gets a 500 word Sandman drabble (you can give me a prompt or let me go wild - your choice). This is the biggest tender!fuck I've ever seen. Like damn. It's an important beat between chapter arcs, and there are some themes/hints ya'll should really take note of. For reasons. All I want for my birthday are comments, my dears! <3 Thank you for your ongoing support.

8. Seal

What happened?

Creeping out of the fog, she swept together the distant pieces of her waking mind, looking for a thought, or a plan, or…

What happened?

She’d had a wonderful dream. Safe. Warm. Happy. If she could fall back asleep and drop back into that place – those arms – she would, but a sleeping mind never followed the same course. She was waking, and it was over.

But she didn’t remember going to bed.

That was all right. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten drunk or collapsed after days without sleep. Not a problem.

But –

She hadn’t set her wards.

Her eyes snapped open, and her hand sprang out, reaching for the bag of black salt she always kept near her bed in the van. Anything could come, anything could already be there. As she jerked to consciousness, full of half-remembered terror – the mirror, the unseelie, her skin, the dress – long fingers caught her flailing hand. They wove seamlessly between her own, pulling her attention down to starry eyes. Soft lips pressed to her knuckles, calling her back from the brink of delirium.

“All is well.” Morpheus’ thumb rubbed along her throbbing pulse, distracting her from her panic with tactile affection. He read the beat as her memory settled, as she recalled where she was and what they’d shared. He must have felt the spiking rhythm, too, judging by his smirk.

He was beautiful. And definitely naked under the grey silk sheets that gathered over his waist.

She licked her lips, at a loss for words as the butterflies she thought she’d banished sprang back to life in her stomach.

“Hello.”

Yes. Excellent. Definitely the most romantic greeting after waking up for the first time in a lover’s bed. In her fucking eldritch soulmate’s apparent love nest, actually. So far as she could tell, they weren’t even in a room. She could see him easily, but beyond the place where they were lying, she could only see vague, bushy shapes that could’ve been clouds or trees. Lights flickered in them. Maybe stars. Possibly fireflies.

No visible exits. Not even a floor, in fact.

Though it wasn’t like she was in a rush to leave.

“Hello.”

Following his gentle tug, she sank back to rest on her side, facing him.

He was so beautiful. She’d already thought it, but damn if it wasn’t worth thinking twice. With his disheveled raven hair and self-satisfied expression, he looked at least half as debauched as she felt.

Which reminded her.

Oh shit.

She was naked, too.

Her free hand moved towards the sheets that had fallen all the way to her thighs when she sat up, but his disapproving pout made her second guess herself.

Covering bare skin was instinctual. Especially after everything she’d suffered in –

No, no. Not thinking of that. She physically shook her head to banish the flashes of pain and fear trying to manifest.

She was safe. She was happy. Her Dream was real, and she could be vulnerable with him in this world apart. Nothing would hunt her here. Nothing would dare. He would avenge and protect her.

Carefully, consciously, she let her hand drift from the sheets, and Morpheus smiled in the wake of her decision.

“My love,” he purred, looping an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, “I want you.”

He nuzzled into her neck, kissing under her ear and finding new places her blood pounded under her skin. She found herself trying to remember language, how to speak in anything but sighs. Prince of Stories. Right. Whatever. Prince of Carnal Brainmelt more like. He made it impossible to think, working little bites over her flesh as he continued his eager assault, leaving her squirming, and desperate, and tongue-tied.

Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt them burning far below her skin. Below flesh and bone. Stars were only cold because of their distance, and she was much too close to see them as anything but suns. She knew it was reckless to look, to stare back and let the heat blind her, but…

She couldn’t pull away now, even if she wanted to. He didn’t need prison bars and pansies to trap her.

Panting, she finally strung together an answer. “I want you, too.”

Her words brought him back to her lips, and he wasted no time licking into her mouth, sharing his heated groans. One hand slipped around to cradle her head. The one he’d used to reel her in crept down, brushing along her waist, squeezing her hip, and settling on her thigh. Strong fingers pulled her leg over his hip, and she groaned back into their kiss as his clear desire brushed her clit.

He didn’t press, only dragging himself through her folds as he explored her mouth. When she stopped for breath, he kissed under her chin, palm flexing just over her knee. She writhed with his slow strokes, enjoying the moment but far from satisfied.

“I need you.” Kissing his brow, his cheek, his lips, she sang her yearning. “I need you, Morpheus.”

Her words found him and burned the way his eyes flamed in her soul. She saw them kindling in his gaze as he pulled away to watch her face, swallowing every flicker of expression as he teased her entrance. And pushed inside.

The world hummed.

It was all beginnings and endings and discoveries. Dream was himself, and she was with him.

He moved so slowly, and she clung tight, shaking as the pleasure built with the inexorable pace of sunrise. Clutching his shoulder, his back, she fought to keep breathing, to keep her head above water as he pushed and pulled inside. Gods. He’d drown her, and she’d gladly find death here in his arms.

“You asked what I want.” He wasn’t as helpless to his physical manifestation as she was to her human body, but his rough voice proved how she affected him, and a sunburst of pride glowed in her breast. “Perhaps I was dishonest with myself. I want the measure of your dreams and your waking hours, too.”

He hunted for her fear, waiting for the golden moment to snap under the weight of his confession. His searching eyes flicked over hers, desperate but guarded. She didn’t know what to say. If she could say anything. But she wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t threatening her – this was an invitation. And she could only invite him back, let him feel the truths she couldn’t name yet.

Her hands settled on his face, trying to soothe the needles of anxiety, his anticipated despair. She offered more kisses, pulling at his lips, welcoming and reciprocating each touch in an effort to reach deeper. Too feel even more.

His grip on her thigh tightened, and he rolled half over her, leaving his sedate, almost drowsy lovemaking behind. Still tender, but openly needy, he picked up speed, using the new angle to his advantage.

She thought she’d been breathless before – fuck.

“I want… a life. A story. You.” He was begging. Commanding. On the cusp of claiming his own dream.

He didn’t take. He shared. They gave and met in true union, tasting elements beyond bodies to melt through time embrace destiny. A snare of their wyrds. A welcome loss wrapped in discovery.

Her heart would burst. There wasn’t enough of her to hold the love for something so vast as her monster, her Morpheus, and as he hiked her leg even higher on his waist, she grabbed him by the hair. She needed him. She needed his kiss, his breath, or she’d fall apart. He obliged, but she knew she’d go to pieces regardless.

As his thrusts grew more erratic, she broke.

The most exquisite destruction.

He pushed as deep as he could reach as she pulled out his own end, but he didn’t give her space to breathe. Rolling again so she was half draped – entirely boneless – over his chest, he kept his defiantly hard length inside. She’d have rest, but no peace.

Stroking her hair, he murmured into the crown of her head, “Stay, my love. I’m not ready to let you go.”

[solivagant242]

late night drives ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

pairing: dean x childhood friend!reader

warnings: alluded childhood abuse/neglect, blood, mild angst, sickness

this is an entirely self-indulgent drabble since i haven't been able to get the fluff/soft memory/comfort trope out of my head- this is based on an aesthetic that i can't quite name.

comment if you want dean's pov!

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you didn’t know when it had become a tradition, something just for the two of you. maybe it was when you’d both been fourteen, stuck in the middle of nowhere, each with fathers that didn’t want to come home. 

maybe it was when you had begun hunting and taken the impala on the road. when the stress of all the blood and sweat and death started getting to you.

either way. it didn’t matter.

the air is so warm it feels almost like bathwater. that doesn’t stop you from shivering, though, wrapping your arms around yourself. your hair is still wet from the burning shower you’d taken, the shower that had left blood swirling down the drain and the fresh slices and stabs on your skin stinging and twining. 

you’re in the passenger seat, the one where sam normally is. you’re not sure if his towering height is responsible for why the seat feels so huge, too low to the ground, as if his weight has pressed it down.

dean is driving.

you don’t normally look at him during these drives. or even pay attention to him, for that matter; times like these are spent in a wordless appreciation of the other’s silence, each of you battling whatever demons have clawed their way from the depths of your minds this time. 

but this time you do, through half-closed eyelids. 

his face looks more relaxed than it did half an hour ago, jaw soft instead of clenched. the shadows under those green eyes haven’t dissipated, though. 

you doubt they ever will. 

drowsily you rest your head on the side of the impala, the soft turns and pauses at stoplights lulling you into a doze. 

you used to be scared of falling asleep. nightmares would flock behind your eyes, black shards of ice stabbing into your skull and leaving you screaming in the dead of night. before you went on the road with the winchesters, you’d spend hours lying on the slant of your bedroom roof, silent tears trickling coldly into your ears till you couldn’t cry anymore. 

even after you’d formed your own messy little broken family with sam and dean, you’d been scared to fall asleep. you still remember how your mom had left in the dead of night when you were eight. you had heard the door open and close, a tiny little dismissive sound audible through the chirping of the frogs outside. 

she hadn’t ever come back, and you knew you wouldn’t be seeing her again.

the cigarette burns on your hand tingle in relief at the thought.

you don’t know when you became okay with sleeping with the winchesters around. somewhere in between the falling and flying of delirium, of a hunt gone wrong and more medicine than you thought possible pumping through your veins.

dean had stayed up with you for two nights in a row. his calloused fingers had been gentle as they carded through your hair, pushing it back from your sweaty forehead, even when you thrashed around and nearly fell off the bed.

he’d caught you and deposited you back under the covers. 

“it’s okay, sweetheart. sleep. please sleep.”

you had slept soundly ever since then. 

a brighter light blinks across your eyelids and you stir a bit, letting your eyes blur into focus. 

the sky is a rich shade of blue, deepening to midnight at its peak and broadening to pale gold nearer the horizon. a few creamy stars are scattered across its expanse.

stoplights and gas station signs flicker past. more lights- cherry-red, neon green, and bright yellow. 

it’s all a blur, a soft, sleepy blur cloaked in the light hum of the impala. dean shifts and mumbles something that you can’t quite catch, and somehow his voice and the smell of the cheap ivory soap he always uses is soothing.

you close your eyes and drift off into another vaguely remembered dream.

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[playfully-sadistic]

You drift in and out of sleep at night, not sure why or how often it happens, but you feel like your dreams have been getting weirder each time. Weirder, and better.

The first time it happens, you feel my body pushed against yours, gently spooning you - no need for concern now, after all, we always do that - and my fingertips softly caress your arm, your fingers, loving and gentle. You feel kisses on your shoulder.

The second time, those same fingers brush over your hip, your thigh, downwards and upwards again, drawing circles and little patterns. My kisses have wandered, close enough to your neck that you can feel my warm breath against the thin, sensitive skin. It makes you shiver. You hear my whispers, telling you to shush, to not make a sound, so continue sleeping. It's just a dream, and you're oh so tired, so you quickly fall back asleep, right after gently complaining.

The third time... Oh, this time, it's different. You wake up to the sensation of two fingers, rubbing up and down over your slit, still covered by your underwear but soaked enough to know you've been played with for a while. An arm around your body keeps you close to me - and two more fingers are toying with one of your nipples, rubbing and pulling. You can't help a moan, even though you're so tired that you barely realize the situation. What a weird dream, mh? You move, immediately get locked into place by my arm and body, a quiet, rough voice vibrating against your neck, "Shh, stay still, be good", followed by a quieter "Fuck, you're so hard", as my fingertip rubs against the swollen nub in your underwear. You sigh and whimper and moan while I relentlessly touch and rub you, rubbing myself against your back simultaneously, and you're not awake enough to fight back or even just realize that this is not a dream. Shamelessly, your body moves against my hand, you shiver at every teasing word leaving my lips, and as soon as my fingers slide beneath the hem of your panties and finally touch your wet, hot, twitching clit uncovered, you tense up, rub harder against me, yell out your lust and come. Hard enough to knock you right back into delirium afterwards.

And oh, so I enjoy the shameful, embarrassed silence the morning after, when we're drinking our coffee, and you're under the impression that you've had one of your hardest orgasms because of a dream of how I've fucked you half asleep. Little will you ever know, mh?

[soulofapatrick]

“I love you” - Jace Herondale x female reader 

Summary: you get hurt on a demon hunt with Izzy which leads you to say something to Jace you could only admit in your delirium

Words: 2.6k 

Warnings: injury; depicting pain 

Y/N’s POV

I’m struggling to stay conscious as Izzy's half dragging me towards the gates, the Institute is only minutes away and looming into view but my legs feel heavy and the blood is still seeping past mine and Izzy’s fingers as we hold her balled up jacket to the gaping wound. The hoodie is already drenched and Izzy’s yelling but it sounds far away, getting harder to keep my eyes open and continue walking, one of my legs giving out and we’re stumbling, almost falling which makes Izzy cry out in frustration and anguish.

“Come on! We are almost there!” Izzy’s growling out and I try to make a witty response but my vision is getting hazy, “For fucks sake Y/N! Jace is waiting for you beyond those doors and you are going to tell him how much you fucking love him!” There’s a sting across my cheek and Izzy is pulling me back up from my knees and I can hear the slamming of doors a few steps later.  

I can see the blur of figures rushing towards us but my mind is struggling to focus, everyone blurring into each other and everything feels so distant and surreal. The pain in my side now almost unbearable and I can feel myself slipping away, consciousness beginning to fade into nothingness as I’m falling. Then, strong arms are wrapping around me, catching me under my legs and behind my back and I’m being pulled into a strong chest, the soft breeze ghosting over my face as words rumble from my saviour’s chest. I’m prying my heavy eyes open to see Jace, weatherworn face full of panic and fear as he’s practically running us somewhere and I can’t help but notice how pretty he is. My hand makes it’s way up to cup his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath my palm and his honey eyes flick down to mine. 

“Izzy…” I try to speak, feeling a metallic tang in my throat as he hushes me gently, “You,” I tap his cheek as he begins to fade from my vision and my body gets heavy, “You, I love you.” As the words leave my lips, my vision blurs and my body goes limp. The pain in my side fading away, replaced with a weightlessness as I pass out, the last thing I feel is my head falling back.

————

I’m momentarily blinded by the brightness of the room when my eyes flutter open, the harsh florescent lights overhead making my head throb and I have to squint to adjust to the sudden brightness. My vision clears after a few more blinks and I take in my surrounds. I’m lying in a bed, the sheets as crisp and white and the room is small and sterile, I’m definitely in the hospital wing of the institute. I’m turning my head to the side to see Jace, he’s curled up uncomfortably in a chair next to my bed, fast asleep. 

I slowly take in the sight of Jace, his usually perfectly styled hair now tousled from sleep, giving him a boyish charm that contrasts with his usual confident demeanour. His face, usually set in a cocky smirk or determination during a mission, is now softened in slumber, the tension of our recent ordeal eased away. The gentle rise and fall of his chest under the fabric of his shirt, accentuating the defined muscles beneath, is a comforting sight. 

He’s changed into grey sweatpants and a black tee shirt, the fabric stretching snugly over his frame, hinting at the sculpted physique beneath. The shirt, slightly too small, only adds to the allure, emphasising his broad shoulders and toned arms. Despite the casual attire, he still exudes an air of strength and capability, even in repose. 

Seeing him asleep by my bedside fills me with a warmth I can't quite explain. It's a mixture of gratitude for his unwavering presence, relief at his safety, and a strange flutter of something deeper stirring within me. In this vulnerable moment, he looks more human, more approachable, yet still retains that magnetic quality that draws me to him. My heart swells with a sense of connection, knowing he's chosen to stay by my side even in his own exhaustion. I want to reach out for him but I can’t remember what happened before I passed out, I know I said something to him and feeling his heart increase against me but I can’t remember what I said exactly.

My throat is dry and scratchy when I try to make a sound, nothing coming out except there’s a dull ache throughout my body, aggravated by moving my mouth. The runes haven’t seemed to help much as I try to sit up but a sharp pain stoped me, making me whimper in agony and shove the blankets off of me to see a bandage covering the gaping wound, spots of blood on it. It’s tender to touch hen I ghost my fingers over it. It’s like the sight of the injury makes all the pain come flooding in and I’m crying out softly, causing Jace to jolt awake. 

His eyes widen in alarm as he sees me awake and leaning on my elbows as I’m finally registering my other injuries, the expanse of my stomach and hips are a galaxy of greens, blues, reds and purples and I’m guessing my face and legs are going to be very similar with a few more bandages dotted over me. I’m only in a pair of thin shorts that look like they could belong to Clary and my sports bra as Jace gets up from the chair, his movements sluggish from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. He’s at my side, calloused hand cupping my jaw as he sits on the edge of the bed, rough pad of his thumb soothing over my cheek as his amber eyes flick all over my face. 

“Let me get Magnus.” Jace’s voice is like velvet wrapped in steel, filled with concern and worry, “He didn’t want to do any magic on you until you were awake,” I can only not weakly, unable to speak as my throat still feels to tight and raw to form words. Jace gets up and heads to the door, pausing before he opens it and looks back at me, “I’m glad you’re awake.” He says softly before stepping out of the room. 

I’m sinking back into the pillows, my body feeling heavy and drained. The memories of the attack come rushing back and tears are welling up in my eyes as the fear and pain becomes almost overwhelming and I’m slamming my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. It does calm me down a little but then I remember what I said to Jace as he took me from Izzy and carried me to the hospital wing. I’m flushing with embarrassment, did I really tell Jace I loved him? Was it just the pain and fear talking? Was it because of what Izzy said when she slapped me to stay awake? 

Before I can dwell on my thoughts any longer the door open and Jace is returning with Magnus. Magnus’ entrance is as grand as ever, his presence filling the room with an aura of confidence and magic. He approaches my bedside with a warm smile, his eyes alight with concern and determination. 

“Ah, there you are, my dear.” Magnus greets me, his voice carrying a soothing cadence that instantly calms my nerves. "I trust you're feeling a tad better now?” 

I manage a weak nod, offering him a grateful smile as he continues, “Well, let's see what we can do about that, shall we?" Magnus gestures with a flourish of his hand, a shimmering blue glow enveloping his fingertips as he taps into his formidable magic. Jace moves to stand next to me, a silent strength just in case anything goes wrong as Magnus explains his plan to heal me, reassuring me that while the ache may persist for a few days, the worst of the injuries will be swiftly dealt with. 

As Magnus’ magic washes over me, I feel a surge of hear and tingling sensation, like tiny sparks dancing across my skin. The bruises go through the stages of healing, changing from purple all the way through to yellow until they’re gone. Their vivid colours melting away like paint in the rain. But, along with the magic comes a searing pain when Magnus moves onto healing the gaping wound in my side, as if every nerve in my body is being set ablaze. 

The pain is so blinding that my vision swims with white-hot intensity. My body spasms uncontrollably, muscles tensing and releasing in rapid succession as I struggle to endure the onslaught. I’m blindly reaching, seeking something, anything to anchor me amidst the overwhelming torment. My fingers brush against Jace's hand, and I cling to it desperately, his presence a lifeline in the midst of chaos. Through the haze of pain, I hear his voice, a soothing melody amidst the cacophony of agony, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. 

But despite his efforts, a primal scream tears its way from the depths of my throat, raw and guttural, echoing off the bright walls of the room. It’s a sound born of sheer anguish ripping through the air despite the dryness and soreness of my already battered throat. My scream must have reached further than the hospital wing as I vaguely hear the door slamming open over the rushing of blood in my ears. 

“Magnus! What are you doing?!” I think it’s Alec, his words sounding frantic, filled with concern and laced with pain as Magnus continues to work. Jace is responding, his voice steady despite how hard I’m probably causing him by gripping his hand like a lifeline. 

As Magnus's magic works its final wonders, the pain begins to ebb, gradually receding like the tide retreating from the shore. With each passing moment, the torment becomes more and more bearable, until finally, it fades into nothingness, leaving me heaving and trembling in its wake.

My body feels drained of all strength, every muscle quivering with exhaustion. The world around me seems to tilt and sway, spinning in dizzying circles until I'm stumbling forward, my hands reaching out blindly for support. I’m colliding with something solid, a reassuring presence that grounds me in the chaos. I realise it's Jace, his chest a sturdy barrier. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close as I cling to him desperately, trying to catch my breath.

My forehead falls into the crook of his neck, seeking refuge in his comforting embrace. I feel his warmth enveloping me, his heartbeat steady against my cheek as he whispers soothing words into the air. 

With great effort, I force my heavy eyelids open, the world swimming before me in a blur of shapes and colours. Through the haze, I catch a glimpse of Magnus guiding Alec out of the room, the concern etched into Alec's pained expression tugging at my heartstrings. The sight of Alec's distress sends a pang of guilt coursing through me, knowing that my injuries have caused him worry and anguish. But before I can dwell on it further, I feel Jace shifting beside me, his strong arms encircling me protectively. 

With a gentle touch, Jace helps me manoeuvre on the bed, making room for himself to join me. I lean into his comforting presence, feeling the tension in my body slowly ebbing away as he settles beside me. His warmth seeps into my bones, easing the residual ache that lingers beneath the surface. I bury my face deeper into the crook of his neck, seeking solace in his familiar scent and the steady rhythm of his breathing. 

As Jace whispers soothing words into the air, I feel a sense of calm wash over me, like a beacon of light piercing through the darkness of my pain. In his embrace, I find sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos that surrounds us. He continues to whisper words of comfort, drawing a flicker of memory dancing at the edges of my consciousness. I remember the words I uttered to him in the heat of the moment before I succumbed to unconsciousness—I love you.

With a surge of emotion, my heart squeezes with the intensity of my feelings for him. Pulling away slightly from Jace's embrace, I'm met with the concerned furrow of his brow, his angelic face a picture of worry and care. My gaze falls to his plump lips, the same lips that have offered me words of encouragement, solace, and companionship. In that moment, I'm overcome by an irresistible urge, a longing to feel the warmth of his lips against mine.

Without hesitation, I’m leaning forwards, my body moving of its own accord, guided by the unspoken connection between us. Jace's understanding is evident in the gentle touch of his hand, guiding my lips to his with a tenderness that speaks volumes.

Our lips meet in a tender kiss, a wave of warmth washes over me, enveloping me in a cocoon of bliss. Jace’s lips are soft against mine, his touch gentle yet firm, igniting a spark of desire that courses though my veins. I taste the faint hint of mint on his lips, a lingering trace of the breath mints he always carries with him. It mingles with the natural sweetness of his own taste, creating a heady combination that sends shivers down my spine. 

His scent surrounds me, wrapping me in an intoxicating embrace. It's a mix of leather, the crispness of the night air, and something uniquely him—a scent that I've come to associate with safety, comfort, and home.

As the kiss deepens, Jace's touch becomes a lifeline, grounding me in the present moment. His hands on my hips steady me, their warmth seeping into my skin, reassuring me of his presence beneath me. I find myself melting into his touch, the strength of his arms a comforting embrace. But then, with a gentle pull, Jace breaks the kiss, his right hand shifting to cup my cheek with a tenderness that takes my breath away. The rough pad of his thumb brushes against my bottom lip, sending a shiver down my spine as he speaks, his voice a soft murmur against the air. 

“I want this as much as you, but you're still healing, sweetheart," he says, his words laced with concern and longing. I can see the desire flickering in his amber eyes, darkened with a want that mirrors my own. His touch feels hot against my cheek and thigh, a contrast to the coolness of the hospital room. In his gaze, I see a reflection of my own desires, mirrored back to me with a raw intensity that leaves me breathless.

Despite the ache that still lingers beneath my skin, I can't deny the pull of attraction between us, the magnetic force that draws us together. With a soft nod, I convey my understanding, my heart pounding with anticipation for what the future may hold. 

In this moment, I'm filled with a sense of gratitude for Jace's patience and restraint, knowing that he's willing to wait until I'm fully healed before we embark on this new chapter of our relationship. And as I gaze into his eyes, I feel a renewed sense of hope, knowing that whatever challenges may come our way, we'll face them together, bound by a love that knows no bounds.  

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Fever

A/n: You fall into a strange fever dream, burning from the temperature. You wake up next to her, burning again, but now a sense of shame.

Inspired by the song "hostage."

You open your eyes half-asleep time after time, and the first thing you see is the invigorating coolness of her eyes, where you want to dive in headfirst.

"I would love to drown in you," you babble in a fever delirium, and Billie smiles knowingly gently, laying you back down. You feel her firm hand on your back before plopping back down on the sheets. The bed seems to be getting endless.

"Don't strain yourself until I get you some tea," her hand touches your forehead and a silver snake of sadness runs in her eyes for a second. - "You're hot as hell again."

"Of course, I'm right next to you!" - God! You'll be so embarrassed when the mercury column slowly creeps downward, releasing you from the captivity of the fever, mark my word.

"Little fool," - a smile and a pleasant chuckle adorning the next precious verbal clarification. - "My little fool."

Billie goes off to get another mug of green tea, the amount of which makes you feel nauseous, as if you were standing on the deck of a seagoing ship with your hands resting miserably on the rail. A new wave of heat sweeps over you and makes you want to peel off your skin, to say nothing of your ill-fated home T-shirt. Covering your eyes is the worst idea imaginable. The ceiling or any other interior object you throw your tired gaze at, zooms in at an imaginary x4 zoom. This only makes your ship rock more, causing more misery. You hear the button of the electric kettle in the kitchen click and the spoon rattle against the walls of the full cup. God, not the green tea...

Eilish returns with the mug in hand, sets it on the wooden stand resting on the bedside table. You watch as the green surface of the herbal tea reaches almost the most ceramic edges and your appearance becomes deader than dead.

"I understand, my heart," Eilish's hand accurate strokes your face, and you only caress closer because her hand is so cool and just because it's her, Billie.

"I'm going to throw out all the green tea in our house."

Billie nods and assures you of her help as swornly as if you were two partners in crime dumping a corpse in the river.

"We'll have a Boston Tea Party together, you just get better."

She bends down to touch your lips with her own, but you immediately put your hand on her shoulder, resisting. The previously sluggish muscles are now as tense as possible. Eilish meets your categorical "no" again, which is the only stoic thought in your infernal delirium.

"I don't want you to get sick." - Eilish doesn't make any extra effort, but you're in no hurry to remove your hand from her shoulder either, just in case.

"Please." - An ingratiating, pitiful whisper crawls into your skull, mingling with the sickening heat. Reality slowly slips away from you again, and Billie leans a little closer to you, participating as your muscles loosen again. - "I've missed your lips so damn much these past three days, Y/n. I miss being in bed without you at night so much."

"No." - you catch her sad look overriding all prudence and something breaks inside. You hastily try to make things a little better. - "Not until the temperature breaks."

Eilish sighs, but tacitly agrees to your condition. It's not clear what prompted her to do this more - the string of interviews next week or just a deep moistening to your wishes. It seems to be all of the above together. The sadness from her eyes travels over her entire face, freezing her like a mask: the corners of her plump lips are lowered, and the inner corners of her straight eyebrows are raised upward and slightly drawn together. Your resolve cracks, and you soften your sentence a little.

"If..." - The line is suddenly torn by a fit of your dry cough as you reach for the pills on the nightstand. - "If you take some antivirals, I think you can lie next to me for a while."

Billie's face shines brighter than the many gold figurines on her living room shelf, which will soon run out of room. She immediately scrambles out of her seat on your bed and disappears into the gradual silence of the house, retreating to the bathroom. You wash down the bitter pills with green tea, drowning in the world's sorrow with each sip, and fall back tiredly. You cover your eyes and return from a state of half-awakeness, only when you feel something fall sharply to your left on the bed: Billie is back and the smile on her face simply cannot be erased by anything in the world, which greatly alleviates the bitterness of any colorful pills.

"Do you want me to put some vinyl record on in the background?"

You nod, a little suspended in your thoughts, while she's already going through a lot of records. The albums slap against each other amusingly as Billie flips them back, as if digging through a filing cabinet. Slap, slap.

"Any number from one to forty?" - her neat fingers freeze in anticipation of your answer.

"Seven." - You squint, and yellow and red flashes flash before your eyes, giving you some sort of foreboding feeling. Eilish hums and you look at her with interest, lifting yourself up and folding your legs into a lotus position on the bed. She raises her arm as proudly as if it were a flagpole, and her flag cloth is indeed yellow and red. The "Don't smile at me" vinyl. The hunch really worked.

"You love me so much that you only pick my songs?" - she purrs contentedly like a cat, deftly pulling out an iridescent, two-color CD. Yellow and red echo the gamut of the cover and the smell of lemon and strawberries suddenly hits your nose. Sometimes you feel like the more you live with Billie, the more you feel this artificial synesthesia clinging to you.

The glass lid swings back, reflecting the rays of the setting sun from the window, and the record lies flat in its proper place. Billie gently lowers the turntable claw, and with a click of the button the needle runs leisurely along the embossed tracks of the record, filling the room with the sounds of her own voice, but younger and not as strong as it is now. Eilish is slightly embarrassed, and it's so beautiful to you.

"I love you always." - you spread your arms out to the side, inviting her in. - "Come here."

Billie smiles, settles on the bed with you and practically agrees to your terms, but adjusts them slightly. While you are sick, she is your caring big spoon, no objections. You feel the warmth of her body against your back as she chops the rhythm of a playful "my boy" with her fingers, hear her soft soprano entwining your heart with a satin ribbon as she intimately sings "party favor" in your ear and endlessly kissing your entire face, except for your lips, of course, which you have vetoed. You're basically her little spoon most of the time, though she so pleasantly loses and relents when you masterfully take the reins of leadership into your own hands.

"Rest, my girl," she whispers affectionately, biting you on the lobe (revenge for the kissing ban), "I'll be right there."

And with the first chords of "ocean eyes", filled with her two-voice, you fall into slumber.

×××

"I wanna steal your soul," - the hems of Eilish's white robes sweep upward slightly as she dives predatorily toward you, kneeling down for eye contact. - "And hide you in my treasure chest."

The two of you are in some incomprehensible space, where dark emptiness and the cool ripples of water on the floor coexist peacefully. You are the water-chained prisoner kneeling on your knees, she is your personal devil. The loneliness shared by two and the coolness of the water. Nothing more.

Eilish's lips bend in a tempting smile, so devilishly seductive that you feel attraction mixed with fear of incomprehension as goosebumps run through your body. Strangely, you freeze under her gaze, filled with Edenic blueness, and she just stares at you silently, and you don't try to free your hands behind your back again. The water chains no longer rattle.

She bends down a little closer to you and touches your neck with her lips gently, almost weightlessly - she leaves her mark on you. It feels like your body is being hit by a high-voltage current, although you are physically fine.

"What do you want from me?" - you mutter softly, not taking your dumbfounded gaze away from her. It is still unclear where you are, whether this is reality or something else, but the coolness unobtrusively enveloping you is pleasantly soothing. As if you needed it.

"Let me crawl inside your veins, I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain," - she rises to her feet, towering over you. Her words have a musical tune to them that draws you in even more. And indeed: one click and you feel the weight of the water collar around your neck. Another click, and then she lifts you up, yanking you by the chain of the collar that appeared out of nowhere. It doesn't hurt at all. - "It's not like me to be so mean."

You reach up to her face to make sure it's just a dream. Your fingertips twitch with excitement, but Eilish walks calmly toward your thought and actions, her cheek resting against your palm. Devils dance in her blue eyes. It is completely tangible. You yank your hand away, like accidentally fell under a stream of boiling water, reflexively examine your palm and only further nurture the seed of confusion in the depths of your soul. O'Connell is still smiling the same way.

"What is it...?"

"Gold on your fingertips," - she approaches you with a soft step, like a misty haze over water, - "fingertips against my cheek."

"Say, I'm asleep now, aren't I?"

Billie shrugs her shoulders in a childishly funny way, and it seems to you that she really sincerely does not know what to say. Her hand gently touches your shoulder while the other finally weakness the tangle of water chains, opening up to you a great variability in the distance. In the end, you decide to relax, despite the curiosities of the environment: You trust Billie even in your sleep. She does not utter a single word, just looks at you with some mysterious note in her eyes, and the answer to her dumb question already comes into your head, which you are in a hurry to denounce in words.

"I don't know what feels true," - your lips almost touch hers, so close together, - "But this feels right so stay a sec."

"Gold leaf across your lips," - the chain rattles, the free end touching the water surface, which is why circles began to form on the surface under you, driven by the white foam of the splash. Both her hands gently touch your face, without pressure, but you feel that you personally want to obey her completely. Through her beautiful raven-colored hair, falling over her face, you catch a glint of precious yellowish luster: gold is spilling on her cheek, which you recently touched, resembling a thin twig. Her eyes hungrily catch the glare, as if turning greenish. So mesmerizing. - "Kiss me until I can't speak..."

You feel the heat on your lips and wake up.

×××

The record has stopped playing, the room is completely silent, and Eilish is kissing your lips more unabashedly than ever before. After such a strange dream, you juxtapose reality so difficult that you pull away in consternation at only the third kiss. Billie laughs loudly, bringing you back into her arms. You frankly remind her of a chicken just out of its shell. Slightly disheveled and completely lost.

"You were mumbling in your sleep and I couldn't find a better way to wake you up." - her voice sounds so playful that you don't even need to turn around to see her confident-skanky face. - "Foreshadowing your concern - your forehead is absolutely not hot. The fever's gone down."

"Such a crazy dream..." - you snuggle into her shoulder, and she's only glad, pulling you closer to her.

"I don't know what feels true?" - you see her eyebrow raise ironically. The gears in your head wind up, returning to their usual healthy mode and you bounce on the bed again, nearly falling off it from the weight of understanding the situation.

You experienced her song "hostage" in your fever dream and even spoke lines from it out loud! Oh my god...

Billie realizes just in time to keep your still sluggish but recovering body from an incredibly "pleasant" encounter with the floor: her hand deftly grips your waist and pulls you back. She smiles just as she did in your dream and you're instantly pierced by the ubiquitous lightning bolt of deja vu.

"Will you tell me more about it? Maybe we can even do it again?"

In her humble (no) opinion, your face in color now resembles the most beautiful pink rose while your state of mind is completely withdrawn under the aegis of feeling embarrassed. And before you can open your mouth, choosing words to describe the dream, she kisses you. With a groan of long-awaited pleasure and absolutely no modesty.

[throneofsapphics]

double vision

feyre x rhys

summary: an alternate ending to ch.29 of acomaf. what if Feyre had dreamed of Rhys that night?

warnings: masturbation, rhys is a bit of a perv

a/n: for context, this happens picks up after they exchange flirty letters. thank you to @secret-third-thing and @whisperingmidnights for your encouragement <3 a drabble for day 7 of feysand week: au @officialfeysandweek

read on AO3 here or below the cut.

A heartbeat later, his note said, Try not to moan too loudly when you dream about me. I need my beauty rest.

Feyre tossed and turned trying to sleep that night, a relentless ache building between her legs.

“I’ve been told I’m very, very good at licking” His voice read the words from earlier in her mind, the smooth darkness of night coming in to claim her, but not sleep as she truly desired.

Every touch felt too sensationalized for her liking. The silken sheets, the soft cloud beneath her head, the rubbing of her silken nightclothes against her breasts, thighs, and core.

Rhys. Licking. His tongue. She shook her head violently to clear the images.

Shameless and consequence-free flirting. That's all that was, and all it ever would be. But … Feyre couldn't help picturing what it might be like with him.

How his hands might grip her, with just enough pressure. How he might actually lick her all over. How their bodies would tangle between the sheets.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping darkness might block out the images.

It only produced violet eyes, staring at her, filled with lust. Rapidly, she blinked them open and settled for the ceiling, the moonlight trickling in through the open window.

Maybe, if she could just get rid of the ache these thoughts would go away. Feyre kicked down her pants, grateful for once that she went bare beneath, and lowered her left no, she glanced at the eye on the palm of her hand, before planting it firmly on top of the sheets, her right hand towards the crease of her thighs.

What the hell was she doing?

Feyre scrambled under the sheets, grabbing her sleeping pants and tugging them back up her legs. She couldn't.

Perhaps the mere act of attempting sated something inside of her, because she tumbled into the dream realm.

Rhys's fingers. His mouth. Gripping. Licking. Biting.

Feyre groaned, half asleep. In delirium, as she'd tell herself in the morning, she reached her left hand towards the seam of her pants, throwing the top sheets off of her. Moonlight trickled through the window, nearly illuminating the room.

-

Rhys rolled over, trying to fall back asleep, when a bridge opened in his mind. A gleaming doorway on the other side. His bond with Feyre. The bargain.

Rhys shot up in bed, ready to careen out of the doorway to her, uncaring of his half naked state, when he spotted the scene playing out before him.

Sheets were kicked to the bottom of the bed, bare skin. Feyre's skin, shining in the moonlight, he should look away, needed to look away, but couldn't make himself as they highlighted glistening, wet, folds he wanted so badly to taste. His hands shook as he gripped his sheets, still unable to close the bridge.

Soft moans filled his ears, and the barest whisper of a name. His name.

Mouth curving into a small, secretive smile, he couldn't help himself as he watched through the eye on Feyre darling's palm, barest glimpses of darkness and pink, listened to the melody of her moans and whimpers, had enough decorum not to touch himself in like.

He fell back asleep long after she did, thinking of what he'd ask her in the morning. “Have fun last night?” Was a strong contender, but he thought he could think of something better. Maybe he was an asshole, but if she truly wanted to keep him out, those shields would've been up.

He'd spend many nights thinking of the sound of his name on her lips.

[thebetterdevil0]

When Angels Cry

3,000 words. A short story about a Blood Angel, and his brother who has fallen to the Black Rage.

My first time writing something like this. Please enjoy.

=================

Sergeant Marneo was well built, even for a Primaris Marine. The Blood Angel was already a tall boy before the surgeries, and he emerged from them even taller. His brother Hadrian had joked with him that the apothecaries had switched Sanguinius’s gene seed for Vulkan’s during his surgeries. He was less than receptive to these jests. As Hadrian placed his hand on the console to open the door, he remembered those joking moments fondly.

Whatever jokes Hadrian may have made before, they were quickly put to bed by the sight that lay before him. His former Sergeant was chained to a wall at the far end of the room. Needles and tubes filled with various fluids and pharmaceuticals probed his skin in numerous places along his chest, upper arms, and thighs. Marneo appeared to be in a state of delirium, but the burning black eyes that stared at Hadrian betrayed that conception. What stared at Hadrian were not the eyes of some washed out drunkard, or half asleep vagrant, but the eyes of a killer overcome by rage.

As the door closed behind him, Hadrian slowly removed his helmet, and mag locked it to his side. The sound of the armor clicking into place caused Marneo to stir. His head rolled upwards, and his eyes narrowed at Hadrian. He said but one word, filled with malice and hatred. “Brother.”

Hadrian felt his hearts sink upon hearing the hatred in the word. “Hello Brother. How are you feeling today?”

Marneo lurched forward from the wall in an attempt to claw at Hadrian. He was held back by the chains and various needles holding him back. “Why do you care Traitor? Why do you continue to torment me with these visits?”

Marneo seemed to relax in the chains, but the black orbs of hate in his skull remained fixed on Hadrian. Hadrian reached into his back pocket and produced a small, orange fruit. “I brought you something brother. Mangoes. From our home world. Chauntea. Do you remember it brother?”

The scent of the fruit worked it’s way into the air toward Marneo. The scent only seemed to enrage him. “I remember we ate these together before you betrayed our father. Before you led your Black Legion against him.”

Hadrian was disappointed by this response, but he remained determined to get through to him. “Would you like a mango brother? It will help you feel like yourself again.”

Marneo’s face tightened. “Is it poisoned? I would expect nothing less of you traitor. Now I ask again, why are you here?”

Hadrian’s hearts sank further. Still he refused to accept the truth. “I’m here to bring you good news brother. I’ve been promoted. I have your job now brother.”

Hadrian tried to force a smile onto his face. Marneo thrashed angrily in his chains in response. “TRAITOR! YOU DON’T DESERVE THE GROUND YOU STAND ON HORUS! NOW GET OVER HERE AND FACE ME!”

The stone door opened again. The figure of a Blood Angels Chaplain stood in the doorway. The Chaplain called forward for Hadrian. “He is gone brother Hadrian. He belongs to the Death Company now.”

Sergeant Hadrian hung his head low in defeat. He put the mango back in his satchel and turned to leave. Marneo’s continued thrashing and screaming echoed through the room as the door closed once more. Outside, the Chaplain pressed a button on the door console. A warning klaxon sounded inside the cell, followed by a rush of pharmaceuticals flooding into Marneo’s body. The anger drained from his eyes as the drugs worked their way through him. He slumped back against the wall, propped up by his bindings as he entered a deep sleep. “Brother… why…”

=================

Lieutenant Hadrian Antinous of Wyvern Squad entered his brothers cell once again. It had been many years since he had seen his brother Marneo, and he was eager to deliver the good news to him. A small part of him hoped that Marneo would have come to his senses by now, that he would take Hadrian in his arms and cry out in joy at his brothers success. The rest of him knew this to be a farce.

Marneo was chained to the wall, in the exact way he had been when Hadrian left him. Marneo was fully awake upon entry this time. He made no effort to acknowledge Hadrian's presence. Just like before, Hadrian removed his helmet and hung it at his side. A faint smile adorned his lips as he spoke to his brother. “Brother Marneo, it is good to speak with you again.”

Marneo looked up at him, but made no effort to speak. Hadrian continued. “I’m a lieutenant now brother. We fought a mighty battle against the Orks on Madrigal. We killed so many my armor was green rather than red when we were finished!”

Hadrian forced a short laugh, hoping for his brother to respond. A glance. A movement. A word. Anything. His apparent lack of aggression gave Hadrian hope. Hope that maybe the Rage had left his brother. Maybe he had been cured. Maybe he had been saved. Maybe the Sanguinor-

“SHUT UP TRAITOR!”

Marneo lunged at Hadrian from his position on the floor. Once more, the chains and needles kept him from attacking his brother. In the rattling of chains and the screams of his brother, Hadrian heard the sound of his hope shattering. He watched on in despair as his brother continued screaming at him. “YOU BETRAYED ME! YOU BETRAYED OUR FATHER! YOU BETRAYED THE IMPERIUM! WHY HORUS? WHY?”

Hadrian hung his head low. He removed his helmet from it’s mag lock at his side, and placed it on his head. His HUD blinked back to life, displaying readouts of Marneo’s physical condition. Several warning klaxons blared at him pointing to elevated hormone levels in line with the Black Rage. He felt a tear well up in his eye as he turned to leave. Marneo called out after him. “YOU SCORN ME HORUS! GET BACK HERE AND FIGHT!”

Hadrian wheeled around, his hearts pounded in his chest, anger flowed in his veins, the Thirst flared in his mind as he spoke. “I AM NOT HORUS, BROTHER! I AM HADRIAN! I AM YOUR BROTHER! YOUR… friend…”

He took a deep breath to pull his emotions back under control. He felt his Angel’s Teeth had been stirred from his gums, and he forced them to retract. “Goodbye brother.”

He knocked on the stone door three times. The door grinded open slowly. He turned to look at his brother one last time before leaving. Marneo continued screaming after him, until the warning klaxons in the cell blared again, and once more he was sedated.

===============

Captain Hadrian Antinous of the Blood Angels Third Company was a sight to behold. His armor gleamed from a fresh coat of polish put on by his serfs, while numerous trophies and embellishments decorated his Gravis pattern Primaris armor. His helmet kept his face hidden as he stomped through the deck of the ship. Chaplain Relus followed him closely, listening to every word he spoke. “I want them ready to move by the end of the next planetary rotation.”

Relus stroked the head of his crozius staff and nodded. “Will you speak to… him, before deployment brother Captain?”

Hadrian froze. He hadn’t even considered that. He had been too wrapped up in the battle preparations to remember. “I-”

He felt a tear welling in his eye. He took a breath and tried to force it down. Relus looked at him quizzically.

“Brother Captain?”

“Yes. Yes brother Chaplain. I will speak with him.

Relus had his own reservations about his Captain’s decision, but the sound of thundering guns outside reminded him there were more pressing problems at hand. “Very well. I will leave you undisturbed.”

Hadrian continued down the hall to the cell of his former sergeant. The Death Company had already been deployed three times before Hadrian had been made a Captain, and each time Marneo had survived mostly unscathed. Protocol would have dictated his immediate execution, but Chaplain Relus felt he could still be of use to the Emperor, and so he was allowed to live. As Hadrian approached the cell, he had a feeling in his gut that this would be Marneo’s final stand. As he punched the authorization codes into the door console, memories replayed in his mind of their time together. Joyfully stealing mangos from their neighbor on Chauntea, playing various games together with their other brothers in training, fighting together on Talos III where Marneo was lost to the Rage…

Hadrian blinked that last memory away as soon as it appeared. In time for the stone door to grind open once more, for what Hadrian hoped would be the third and final time. He stepped into the room, leaving the door open behind him. He did not intend to stay long this time.

Marneo again, was already awake. This time instead of being chained to the wall nude, he was fully armored in the black battleplate of the Death Company. He lunged for Hadrian the moment he entered the room. The eve of battle always stirred the thirst of the Blood Angels, and the Death Company was no different. Marneo’s eyes screamed with intense fury, scanning the room for any possible threat. The only threat he could identify was Hadrian, so he focused on him. Gnashing his teeth and pulling on his restraints. “WHERE ARE THEY? WHERE ARE THE TRAITORS?”

Hadrian smiled under the helmet. Part of him was glad he wasn’t the target of Marneo’s fury for once. “They will be here soon brother Sergeant. You will have your revenge.”

Marneo threw his head back and roared. “BRING ME THE TRAITORS! BRING ME HORUS! I WILL TEAR HIM LIMB FROM LIMB!”

Hadrian stepped closer to Marneo. He reached into his satchel and produced a small, orange fruit. He had pocketed the mango from the mess hall earlier, intending to eat it while in his quarters, preparing for battle. Instead, he held it up in front of his brother. “Would you like a mango brother? It will help you keep up your strength. You will need it if you are to emerge victorious against the traitors.”

Marneo snarled as the scent of the fruit worked it’s way into his nose. He breathed it in deep. Hadrian thought he saw the Rage flicker in his eyes for a moment. After a moment of deliberation, Marneo leaned his head forward, and took a bite of the fruit. Hadrian continued to hold it for him, as if he were feeding a large animal. Soon, only the pit of the fruit was left. Hadrian placed it in his satchel to dispose of later. “How do you feel brother?”

The Rage returned in full force as he struggled against the chains. “I feel like tearing off Horus’s head and presenting it to Father stuffed!”

Hadrian removed his helmet and held it under his arm. He held his brothers gaze for a moment. The thought of what was to come returned to his mind, and his head drooped. “Brother… I know you do not remember me anymore, I know you do not remember the things we did together, but I want you to know I am proud to have fought at your side, and I am eager to see you fight once more.”

Hadrian turned to leave, placing his helmet back on his head. He was about to exit the room, when he heard a voice. “I am proud of you too.”

Hadrian paused. The words came from Marneo, but they did not belong to him. He suddenly felt his blood slow. The Red Thirst had been dancing in him as he awaited the coming battle, but now it fell completely silent. He felt a uniquely divine presence radiating from behind him. He wanted to turn around, to face whatever was there behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He felt as if he was frozen in place.

“Your brother cannot say it, but he is as proud of you as I am, my son.”

Those final two words finally snapped Hadrian out of his stupor, and he wheeled around to face whatever was behind him. What he saw defied all logic. Throughout the halls of the Blood Angels ships and fortresses, there were countless paintings of Sanguinius. His golden blonde hair flowing magnificently from his head while pristinely white wings carried him across the battlefield. The face of his dead Primarch was well known to all Blood Angels for this reason. Standing before him was that same divine visage. The form of Sanguinius appeared to hover over Marneo, emanating divine power and grace. In one hand he held a mighty golden sword, and in the other a golden chalice filled with blood. Hadrian’s jaw dropped open as his armor’s sensor suite failed to identify what was happening. “F-father?”

Sanguinius’s mouth did not move when he spoke. His words came from Marneo’s mouth, as Hadrian looked on in awe. “You care deeply for your brother. You care for your Chapter. You care for the Imperium. You are the heart of your Chapter, Captain Hadrian Antinous. You are the swift hand which will guide them to victory this day, and beyond.”

Hadrian fell to his knees. No amount of effort from him could stem the tide of tears streaming from his eyes. A direct vox line from Chaplain Relus opened on his HUD. The Chaplain’s barrage of inquiries and commands were ignored by Hadrian, still too enraptured by the sight before him.

Sanguinius’s face remained stoic throughout the whole exchange. He turned his head to the side and raised the chalice. Blood overflowed from the chalice and spilled onto Marneo, coating his black armor in red. Hadrian watched his brother bathe in the blood flowing from his Father’s chalice, before a hand on his shoulder pulled him back to reality.

“BROTHER HADRIAN! DO YOU HEAR ME?”

Hadrian snapped his head to attention and launched off the floor into a battle stance, the Red Thirst suddenly pounding in his veins. Chaplain Relus yanked his hand from his shoulder in surprise as Hadrian scanned the room for threats. He turned back to look at Sanguinnius, and saw he was now gone. Marneo was no longer covered in blood either, and he was back to screaming and thrashing angrily, demanding to be loosed upon Horus and his legions.

Hadrian took a deep breath and focused on quelling the Thirst within.

“Hadrian?”

Relus’s tone was marked with a single shred of worry, something he often did well to hide. Hadrian rolled his shoulders and took another breath. “I am fine, brother Chaplain.”

“Brother Captain I must insist on-”

“I said I am fine!”

Relus sensed the hostility in his words and decided to back off. Hadrian looked back to Marneo’s screaming, thrashing form, and finally closed the door to his cell. “Continue your preparations brother. I will check in with you before we deploy.”

He did not wait for Relus’s response before leaving. The tears streaming down his face persisted for several minutes before he finally reigned himself in.

=================

“Are they dead? All of them?”

“Yes brother. All of them.”

Hadrian’s battleplate had sustained significant damage in the battle against the Necrons of this world. He was missing a pauldron, and his breastplate was in pieces. Saying nothing of his various trophies and embellishments which had been destroyed in the fight. Chaplain Relus finished reading off the Death Company battle report, while Hadrian listened attentively. “…Brother Marneo died gloriously. He tried to fight an Overlord by himself and nearly won. He died in the battle, but his efforts weekend the beast enough for one of our tanks to land a scorching final blow.”

Hadrian nodded curtly. “Thank you, brother Chaplain. You are dismissed.”

Relus saluted Hadrian, and both men left the war room. Hadrian returned to his chambers, and called in his serfs to begin the rites of unarmouring. As he waited for them to arrive, he realized one of his side pouches was still intact, and that it had something inside it. He reached into the pouch and fished out a small seed, with bits of orange still stuck to it. The mango pit. He had forgot to throw it out before the battle.

His serfs entered the room, and hastily began preparations for the rites of unarmouring. One of them noticed the seed in his hand and approached him. “My lord, do you wish me to dispose of this?”

Hadrian looked to the serf, then back to the seed. “No. Have it cast in amber and hung on my breastplate. This will serve as a replacement for the many trophies I have lost.”

The serf bowed and took the seed from him. Hadrian watched him leave, before stepping up to allow the remaining to serfs to begin. As the armor was stripped from his body, and the glove underneath was unfastened and removed, he felt the weight of his sorrows lifting from him for but a moment. While he waited for his serfs to fetch him proper clothing, he stood at the viewport in his quarters, gazing into space. The Cicadrix Maledictum would be coming into view soon, and he would need to close his window. For now, he simply took in the sight of the endless stars, and the ships that danced through them. Picturing his fallen brother, dancing somewhere amongst those stars.

[unhinged-summer-fun]

the foolish heart's guide to not repeating history - epilogue

Pairing: Dream of the Endless "Morpheus" x F!Reader

series masterlist

epilogue: so it goes

Now that you’ve found a place to be, you’re loath to move from it. London provides no end to exciting things, people, and sights. Hob gives the world’s best historical walking tour of the city by far, and you’ve tried each. Sometimes, Dream joins you. But for the most part, he leaves you be in your waking hours.

For he’s always waiting for you in your dreams.

He’s worked it out so that every time you fall asleep into the Dreaming, your first sight is the reflectory. The butterflies are always so excited to see you, but none so eager as the King of Dreams.

He greets you with a kiss each time, deep and passionate, no matter the occasion. And once you’ve been thoroughly kissed, he pulls away to ask you the same thing each night:

“What shall we dream tonight, darling?”

The Hum is sure to give you all sorts of suggestions.

It’s about three in the afternoon on a random Monday in July when you feel a summons coming through.

My friend, I stand in the Worlds’ End holding you a seat. I have a tale for you.

You leave a note in case Dream comes by the flat when you’re out and zip off to the tavern.

It’s as it always was: raucous, rapt, and ridiculous. A half-dozen or a half-thousand revelers and storytellers dot the vast sea of tables, and you let yourself wonder which world ended for you to come here this time. Destruction is where he said he’d be, an arm slung around an empty chair and a beer in hand. “There you are!”

“Here I am,” you laugh, kissing his cheek and taking the seat promised. These days, you can’t tell the difference between the Destruction who’s known you all your life and the one you’d met at a funeral. You’re sure it doesn’t matter, for you love them both the same. “Clever trick, that.”

“I came up with it all on my own. The universe knows when I’m asking for you, I suppose.” He shrugs as if he’s not declared an absolutely insane cosmic theory. “Did the job.”

“I’ll have to try it myself sometime. Get you over for dinner.”

“I’m sure your cooking’s to be trusted more than mine.”

You’re given a glass of red wine and your customary cheese board, which reminds you of your reason for being here. “You said you had a story for me—”

You’d say you’re amazed by how long it takes for him to find you, but in reality, the delay was all on your part.

“Mind if I join you, darling?”

The voice, made of darkest velvet night and campfire woodsmoke, belongs to your greatest love. His blue eyes twinkle with humor when his brother sputters a little in surprise. He looks at you in exaggerated betrayal. 

“I left a note,” you shrug. “How was I to know he’d find it so soon?”

Destruction huffs, put out but in good spirits. “If you must, brother,” he gestures to another suddenly-open seat beside you.

“Don’t do me any favors,” Dream mumbles, just low enough for you to hear. You hide your grin in a kiss.

“I was just setting in to hear a—”

“Of course we’d find you all here,” another familiar voice comes, dripping with eroticism and a little bit of fond disdain. Desire of the Endless turns many heads as they walk closer, sitting at the table across from Dream.

Despair, who had not announced herself, sits across from you and next to Destruction. You see her stop frowning momentarily, which is as good as smiling. Behind Despair comes Delirium, who has sat at a different table for now but will likely join you all soon. 

“How many notes did you leave?” Destruction hisses, a little aghast.

“Just the one. I’m not sure what’s happening,” you admit. “Though, I am sure we’ll need more wine for this.”

A hand offers a bottle from over your shoulder, and the person that hand belongs to gives you the kindest smile you’ve ever known. “Hope that’ll do. You like reds, don’t you? Hey, little brother. Long time.”

You’re reminded of how the truly old and powerful tend to sniff out the strange faster than everybody else. Destruction looks mortified. You attempt to lighten the mood. 

“Well, at least we know Destiny will never leave his Garden.”

There’s a tense moment when all six siblings look toward the door, but it does not open.

In the Garden of Forking Ways, Destiny of the Endless reads this and smiles.

Wine and food are served to each sibling, though most of the Endless do not eat. Custom dictates all in the Free Houses. Dream is content to take sips from your wine and steal off your plate, his arm replacing his brother’s on the back of your chair. His long fingers, studded with stars, idly trace your bare shoulder.

“I suppose this tale can be shared with the lot of you,” Destruction says, thoroughly miffed but secretly enjoying the camaraderie of being amongst family again. He’d spent so long visiting each of his siblings clandestinely over the last few hundred years, but a change of pace made the heart beat stronger. “Now, this isn’t quite a once upon a time; it’s more of a once upon another time and place…”

In the Dreaming, a man and his love live on the pond at the End of the Story. Each morning—for what passes as morning in the Dreaming—he wakes and greets his love with a smile and a kind word. He does this every day without fail. His love is a gift he’d been given at a time when he didn’t deserve it, but such is the way of life. We never get our best gifts when we expect them.

Throughout each day, he reads from his abysmally small collection of poetry, and his love tolerates it because it makes him happy to do so. It reminds him of old times, he says.

And as the days end, each to each, he takes his love and walks along the edge of the pond until the stars come out. Neither he nor his love makes any marks in the sand as they go. The whole time, his love walks behind him, and he looks back to check he’s not alone many times throughout the walk. To walk beside a love of your own is something no man should take for granted.

Every day, when the night comes, the man takes his love, holds tight, and thinks of dancing, but never does.

And he lived, happily.

“I thought it had an ever after at the end,” Desire says, ashing their cigarette in a dish on the table.

“What about his love?” Delirium asks from down the table. “Does his love get to be hapapilily-living?”

“We rarely have happy forever,” Despair says, rather an expert on the subject.

Destruction doesn’t explain himself, nor does he answer the questions. He watches you with his hands folded together before his mouth. “How did you come by this tale?” Dream asks, keen.

“Firsthand, I’d bet. You’ve been bloody everywhere,” Death says, enjoying her bottle of orange soda at the end of the table.

Destruction continues to ignore his siblings and waits for you. Around you, the laughter and grumblings of a half-dozen or a half-thousand souls quiet somewhat, like even they know some quiet respect is due.

The trouble with loving a king of dreams is that laying something to rest is never the end of the story. For dreams, laying something to rest is quite commonly the beginning.

In all your time, there are some parts worth experiencing again for the first time—the parts that make lives worth living, friends worth having, and mistakes worth making again. The feeling of growing up, of understanding, of changing for the better—all those things make it worth the pain of remembering why you ever said, this time, things are different.

Still, some experiences are meant to never be repeated. You’d vowed never to return to the third universe, to the man in the house by the pond who reads nothing but poetry, but your mind still wanders to it, and him, from time to time, even if your heart does not.

But you take the closures where you can. “Thank you for your story,” you say. “I hope… it ends the same way every time.”

Destruction nods, wise to the subtle graveritas you let bleed into your words. It’s a blessing across universes that somewhere, a man on a beach where he leaves no footprints is happy for the rest of his days.

Dream feels it, close as he is. Death and Desire feel it, the former giving a happy look and the latter leveling a distasteful look your way. “Really? At the table?”

“Oh, you think you can tell a better story?”

“Of course, I can, I—”

“Management will expect you to pay your fares…”

“Well, management can go—”

You tune out the bickering and look up at Dream, who is observing you for any signs of that old pain that used to lance you upon mention of your old, doomed love affair.

“That was very kind of you, darling,” he murmurs.

“It was, wasn’t it?”

He kisses your forehead for a few long seconds, and you hardly hear what he says over your pulse pounding in your ears. “I’m lucky.”

“You are.”

He gives a nip at the tip of your nose. “You’re pushing it.”

“You don’t scare me.”

“I really should—”

“Stop that, the two of you! The next one’s starting…”

So it goes.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Just trying to game

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: You snuck out of bed in the early hours to game despite your cold. What happens when you get caught?

TW: Delirium, nightmares (mentioned),

A/N I probs wont be able to post for a while. (Maybe I will, maybe not.) Im going on holidays. Depends if I find time :)

Your screen was starting to hurt your eyes, making the pounding headache increase, but you paid it no mind. The light was blurring your brain and scrambling your thoughts. Your stream’s chat had been going off since you signed on. Your fans begging you to go to bed and threatening to sick Wanda and Nat on you. Shrugging it off, you knew they didn’t have their numbers to do that. You’d locked the door. It was nearing 3am. After a sleep riddled with nightmares and fever dreams you decided to get up and game. You had switched on your stream after sneaking out of bed with your two girls. They wouldn’t be happy if they knew, but to the best of your knowledge they were still asleep.

Halfway through another game, your phone buzzed. It was tony. The only other person who would be up at this time. He claimed your fans were spamming his public account on instagram and if you didn’t get them to stop he’d get Wanda to kick you off your stream. You begging the stream.

“Guys. Stop spamming tony.” You half coughed, your voice gravelly.

The chat simply blew up in response. Groaning you switched your phone off, much to your fans dismay. Everything seemed ok for about twenty minutes before the door slammed open. You’d missed the red magic unlocking it. Two tried and angry girls stormed in. The chat went wild as Nat switched off the stream, your protests dying in your throat as you broke into a coughing fit. Strong hands rubbed your back and another guided your head into her lap. When had you ended up on the floor. A cool glass was pressed to your lips and water soothed your sore throat. When your vision cleared you saw Nat’s worried face looking at you as you laid in Wanda’s arms.

“Baby why are you awake?” Wanda’s anger seemingly gone.

“Stupid dreams and cough wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Nat cooed coming over to join you on the floor. She carded a hand through your hair stopping when she touched your forehead. “Oh baby your on fire.”

“I know I’m so hot” you winked. Making Nat roll her eyes.

“No my sweet. You have a fever.” Wanda smiled, concerned.

“Oh.” You said before hunching over in another coughing fit as your throat burned. The hands were back as they guided you back to the water.

“Oh love that doesn’t sound good.” Wanda cooed.

“Let’s get you back to bed and take your temperature. Love your defiantly sick and probably delirious.”

“Ok.” You smiled, eyes closing.

“Not here. In bed love.” Wanda smiled tapping your cheek lightly. You smiled at her making grabby hands at Nat who rolled her eyes and scooped you up. You nuzzled into her neck, her cool skin feeling amazing against the fire raging under your own.

Wanda disappeared, probably in search of the thermometer. After a long amount of rummaging in the bathroom she swore. Coming out to face you, her hands poised dangerously on her hips.

“Love. Where is it?” She sighed.

“Where’s what?” Nat asked, confused.

“She hid the thermometer.”

“Really Y/n/n?” Nat groaned. Making you giggle, the fever starting to effect you.

“‘S funny.” You laughed. Wanda fought down a smile. You were very childish when sick. You pointed at the bathroom. “S in there or sumfing.” You grinned. Nat and Wanda both went to look and you whined at the loss of contact. After about five minutes, there was a noise of triumph.

“You really hid it in a toilet paper roll love?” Wanda asked slightly amused.

“Dunno. Can’t r’meber.” You slurred, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. Nat gently pulled your wrist away, you whined again.

“You either stop rubbing or eye drops.” Nat cooed softly. That made your stop. You hated eye drops.

“Did we turn off da stream?” You yawned.

“Oh baby. Your really out of it aren’t you love?” Wanda cooed. You simply shrugged in response, to tired to form proper words.

“Open up.” Nat said tapping your chin. You opened your mouth. The cold metal feeling good against the underside of your tongue. Everything was on fire and achy. You almost cried when they took away the cool metal.

Wanda frowned. “101.9 love that’s too high for my liking. We don’t want to fry that sweet brain of yours.” Nat’s hands felt amazing as she ran them through your sweaty hair.

“Do you think you could have a shower love?” Wanda asked.

“We can help you my sweet.” Nat smiled.

You simply whined in response. Dubbing you too delirious to understand, the girls scooped you up. Stripping themselves then you and climbing into the bath. They scrubbed your body. You let a few tears fall at the cold temp which felt like ice on your skin. Wanda wiped them away giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“Oh love. It’ll be over soon.” She cooed. Pulling you flush against her.

When the had both rinsed and dried off they wrapped you in a fluffy towel and then put you into Nat’s shorts and Wanda’s big hoodie. You looked positively adorable in your girls eyes. But your pink nose and cheeks won out as you sneezed into the sleeve pathetically.

“M sorry” you mumbled.

“That’s ok my heart you cant help it.” Nat smiled rubbing your arm from where she was holding you up. Now you were slightly more lucid and able to walk on your own. Nat still guiding though. She walked you over to the bed where Wanda laid waiting.

“Come one my sweet.” Wanda patted the bed beside her which you promptly face-planted into. Making the girls laugh. They pulled your shaking form close. The fever down but not broken. You were too tired to do anything more than cry.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Nat asked, crawling in on your other side sandwiching you between them.

“Cold and feel gross.” You sniffed, tears welling in your eyes.

“Aww love. Go to sleep. We’ll be right here if you need us.” Wanda ran her hands through your hair as Nat rubbed circles on your lower back.

Unable to stay away you succumbed to sleep. Not wasting another moment, your sleeping form curled up into the girls making them coo quietly at your cuteness.

“Sleep well sweetheart.” Nat smiled, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You squirmed in your sleep as Wanda wrapped her arms around you. Wiggling into her chest, the three of you went to sleep. You felt safe and loved in their arms.

Master list

[kyndredravenstories]

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 7

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148839892#workskin

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6

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It's dark in the N109.

Always.

Even though the windows in the mansion have no curtains, the only lights here are false ones. No matter what hour of the day it is, only the warm amber lamplight illuminates the rooms around me. The city lights from outside peek through the glass here and there, flashing red, green, or a frigid blue.

It's always cold in the mansion; it's how Sylus prefers it. Not surprising, really, considering how his body always feels as hot as a simmering furnace. Unlike me. I'm always freezing, it seems, and I definitely prefer a warmer setting.

Wandering around in this falsely lit, cold, and absolutely silent home makes me feel like I am trapped in some kind of bunker during an apocalypse. I miss going on missions in the city. I miss the warmth and humidity of the afternoon haze in Linkon. I miss the sun and the fresh air. I miss waking to my alarm in the morning, and I miss the raucous sounds of city life.

On my fourth day here, I start to lose the concept of night and day, and my body begins to protest the maltreatment. I'm still recovering from my injuries, and that makes it worse. Exhaustion finds me at the most unpredictable times. I start falling asleep while standing, sitting, even talking. A few times, Luke and Kieran - now acting as my escorts around the mansion - have to prop me up to keep me from falling over. This lasts most of the day. I float in and out of awareness, limping from room to room and dozing in-between.

I wake from one such nap when I hear motion upstairs and wonder if Sylus is up and about. I check the phone he gave me for the time.

1:14 PM

While I wait for him to come down, I stop by the dining room to pick at the table of food there. Though I've never seen anyone in the mansion other than Luke and Kieran, somehow the food and drink here is always replenished and fresh. Once, Sylus hinted at there being a chef on the payroll, but thus far I haven't met anyone else who works here. Another mystery that gives this mansion a kind of haunted vibe. 

Eventually, Sylus emerges from his bedroom and approaches me wearing his full leather riding gear. My eyes rove over the knee high black boots, stylish jacket, and half gloves. He looks incredible, and I can't help but appreciate the way these clothes accent his broad shoulders, slim waist, and exquisite ass. He notices me looking of course, and I quickly look away with my ears on fire.

"Good morning," I say even though it's the middle of the day. He grabs a plate and drops a few tasty looking items onto it. We sit down to eat together, neither one of us speaking for a time. It's a pleasant, companionable, silence in which I try to reconcile why I am feeling so anxious about Xavier coming to pick me up tonight.

In the end, I must be honest and admit that I don't want to leave yet. But, I have to. The investigation must continue. We must stop Noxis and find an antidote for LUMINIS. Not to mention, I'm still a Hunter. I have duties I must fulfill to protect Linkon. I'd left the city to attend a symposium and disappeared. I needed to report to Captain Jenna, maybe even come clean about what Xavier and I had been up to for the last several months.

Just when I start worrying about how I'm going to accomplish all of this, a large gloved hand appears in my line of vision.

"Come for a joy ride with me," Sylus says, his expression unreadable. I take his hand, letting him pull me up out of my chair.

"Where?" I ask, rubbing at my eyes. Damn it, the exhaustion is about to hit me again.

"Does it matter?"

Not really. I'd go anywhere if it's with him. Especially when he asks me anything while the corners of his eyes crinkle into a special kind of smile I've only seen him direct my way.

"I'd love to go, but I'm not exactly dressed for it." I point to my sweats - or his, rather. "And I'm pretty tired. Not sure how I'll manage to hang onto you."

Sylus tilts his head, running his hand over the bandages on my shoulder and arm. He tilts up my chin. "You look pale," he observes.

I can't reconcile a Sylus that's actually worried about me. It's too surreal. But, his frown during these moments speaks for itself. No matter how naïve I might be, there's no way I'm misreading his intent.

"But, you'll be fine," he ruffles the hair at the top of my head, careful not to touch my wound. "Just cling to me like you did yesterday." His voice drops, and he leans in to murmur in my ear. "Use your thighs. You remember how that felt, right?"

I take a few steps back, my whole face catching fire. His words bring on flashbacks that I've been trying to keep at bay for a while.

"But, I'm still not dressed for it."

He runs his hand through his hair with a smirk then holds it out to me again. Still sheepish, I take it. As we walk upstairs, I ask about Xavier and how he plans to have him pick me up. As frequently happens, Sylus doesn't answer me. By the time I'm ready to pinch him in frustration, we make it to his bedroom. An organized grouping of dark red boxes and unmarked paper bags rest on the floor in front of the bed.

Sylus gestures for me to go to them. As I step in that direction, he settles comfortably on the leather armchair in front of his work desk, crossing one leg over the other. Mephisto, who's been sleeping on his perch, caws and flutters to his master's shoulder. Sylus rests one elbow on the chair and looks at me expectantly. Confused, I look towards the boxes and begin opening them one by one.

Shirts, pants, winter gear, boots, guns, a belt and holster, a large gray duffel bag, and...I can't help but gasp when I open the final box.

"Oh," I breathe, completely taken aback. It's a black floor length silk dress with crisscrossing straps and a thick elegant skirt. On the front is a stitching of the night sky. Stars and planets twinkle up at me in the form of precious gems - diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. Below the stars, a shimmering river flows off into a distant horizon. It's quite possibly the most beautiful dress I've ever seen.

I glance at Sylus. His eyes are intent, expectant.

"Try it on," he says.

"Now?"

His silence is confirmation of his wishes. When I hesitate, he smiles behind his hand. "Do you need me to help you?"

I straighten my shoulders, carefully putting the dress back in the box. "I thought you wanted to go for a ride."

He chuckles then stands up. I resist backing up as he approaches me, his hands in his pockets. "Raincheck," he teases, stopping right in front of me.

I nod.

"Go get ready, then. Don't keep me waiting."

Picking up one of the boxes, I rush to sidestep around Sylus and go into the bathroom. Though I know it's absolutely pointless to do so, I lock the door. Once inside, I lean on the sink and take a deep breath. After calming my racing heart, I start getting dressed. I pull on some black leather pants and a thick knitted top. Over it, I don a warm leather jacket. My hair is a royal mess, so I borrow one of Sylus's combs to tame it into a single braid.

By the time I'm finished, the exhaustion is hitting me again. I sit down to put on a pair of boots, hoping the dizziness will pass soon.

Someone calls my name.

The next thing I know I'm waking up. I'm still sitting on the bench in the bathroom, but Sylus is now kneeling in front of me, stroking the side of my face. His lovely mouth is marred with a frown.

"Oh, sorry," I mumble. "I didn't mean to doze off."

He helps me to my feet, steadying me when I stumble.

"The darkness can be difficult to get used to for some," he says. "Ready to go?"

I nod, and we make our way to the front door. It occurs to me that I'd never stepped outside of the mansion. Somehow, I'd never been curious to see where we actually were. I let Sylus lead me down an expansive concrete driveway to where his bike awaits. My eyes go wide when I recognize the vehicle.

"Is that...?"

Sylus raises a brow at the surprise in my voice.

"It's not a 380HM...no way..."

A Hunter bike. Not just that, but a prototype model that not even UNICORNS could afford to equip their Hunters with.

Sylus huffs. "Don't lump me in with such low class mediocrity."

I don't question that statement, but excitement buzzes through me. I've driven a Hunter bike once or twice, and it was a thrilling experience. If this is something even more advanced, I can't wait to experience it, especially since I trust that Sylus is more than capable of handling it as a driver.

I smile when he hands me an onyx helmet. I mount up behind him, and as I try to figure out the best way to hang onto him without aggravating my injuries, his dark Evol wraps around my back, my knees, and my torso. I gasp when it presses me against him. It's as though something is tying us together.

"Don't worry, kitten, I won't let you fall," comes his promise, much clearer than I expect. The helmets are radio linked so we can hear each other without issue. Experimentally, I try to relax. Even when I'm not putting much strength into holding on, his Evol keeps me steady. I lean against him, then, releasing all my anxieties from earlier. We have mere hours left together, and I want to enjoy every minute I have.

The bike roars to life beneath us and Sylus guns it into overdrive without preamble. In a single breath, we are skyrocketing through the darkness at a speed I can barely process. Lights blur into multi-colored streaks as we soar down the highway. I feel every rise and fall - every thrill, every twist and turn - without fear, knowing that Sylus's Evol holds me firmly in place. I let his body heat melt into me, relishing the feeling of gliding through the wind like a fledgling hawk learning to fly.

We wing past skyscrapers of every shape and size, ascending higher and higher up a natural slope until we reach a bald hill. We skid to a stop, and as we take off our helmets I smell burned rubber. A massive radio tower spears into the ground before us, extending high into the sky well above the clouds. It's seen better decades. It's body is worn and tired, the metal eroded after years of weathering Metaflux storms.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"Just a good view." He gestures around us to the panorama. The Underworld, a city with no sunlight and no moonlight.

On this hill, we sit like eagles perched above the sprawling buildings and towers of N109. In this endless night, the glass and polymer looks like a myriad of shining mirrors, reflecting a world that's a kaleidoscope of colors. Signs, brands, and advertisements compete for real estate and blaze against the shadows, so bright they give off their own blinding aura. A few high tech nightclubs flash and rave among the rooftops, the illuminated canopies above them blinking in time with booming melodies. Silhouettes of people ebb and flow behind the tinted windows. The conflicting rhythm of the music pulses against the silence of the streets, a heartbeat of this lonely and frozen cityscape.

Sylus observes all this with an aloof and ruthless gaze, ever searching, ever calculating. His breathtaking silver hair reflects the ever changing colors of the city. A King examining his domain. He'd brought me here for the view, but there is no enjoyment in his eyes. They dart from building to building, his pupils narrowed as though he can see through all the glass to the happenings behind the walls. Rooting out all secrets, all dealings that would seek to take power from him.

It's a degree of control I can't fathom. It seems harsh to be at the top of all this. Lonely.

I call his name without meaning to.

When he turns to look at me, his pupils dilate again and his expression softens. It's a surreal transformation I can hardly comprehend. We don't speak, but a wealth of something passes between us as we stare into each other's eyes. I reach out to him, and he helps me turn to hop off the motorcycle. His hands grasp my waist, and he lifts me up. His forearm settles under me, holding me up and in place so my face is above his.

There's so much that I want to say, but no words come. I press my hand to the side of his face, moving some strands of his hair away from his cheeks. At last, the line of his lips softens into his special smile.

"If I asked you to stay out of the dealings with Noxis, would you?"

I take a deep steadying breath. "I can't."

"Then make me a promise."

I nod, and the wings of his brows lower over hard ruby orbs.

"Prioritize your vengeance. Show no mercy. You're not fighting Wanderers. These are humans, and the depth of human cruelty is immeasurable."

"I'm not a killer," I whisper.

"You are. Everyone is. Whether you admit it or not." The lights around us shift and churn, lighting up his eyes. They seem to glow as he speaks, and goosebumps break out all over my arms and shoulders. "It's simple. When someone would take from you, you must take double. When someone would betray you, you rip their treachery out at the root."

"I understand that's how it is here, but in Linkon it's--"

"Different?" He makes a sound of bitter amusement. "No, sweetie. A little sunshine doesn't change human nature. The monsters just wear masks."

I shudder at his words.

"When someone shoots at you, you shoot them in the head. Not the arm. When someone tries to capture you, you break their neck. Not their leg." His free hand twines into the hair at my nape, fingers squeezing until he has a firm grip. "Do you understand, Ellara?"

"Yes."

I can't promise to be ruthless. I've never had to be. But, the message is clear. This is no longer just an investigation or a side project. The night at the Mythe made it clear that these people weren't playing around. If I don't take a stronger stance, I'm going to lose my life. And if there's something I realized as I was writhing in pain and agony from the LUMINIS, it's that I don't want to die.

I must be stronger. I must be more clever. I can't continue being reckless.

Sylus lets my body slide down to the ground, but he doesn't let go of me when I'm standing. He looks down at me from above, his expression once again a complete mystery. My arms wrap around his waist underneath his leather jacket. It's like slipping into a hot bath. Biting the corner of my lower lip, I tug him down towards me.

Our lips meet and meld, our tongues reuniting soon after. Pleasure zings through my nerve endings as he tugs on my hair to deepen our kiss. His tongue circles and circles then pushes, deeper and deeper. I can't breathe, and I don't care. He can take my last breath if that's what he wants. As long as he keeps touching me, caressing me, driving me to new heights of bliss.

We hit a single wavelength both in mind and body. As he pulls me back up against him, my legs wrap around his waist. He gives a growl of approval and draws my bottom lip into his mouth. I graze my teeth against his tongue as his hips thrust against me. He rests my butt up on the bike seat so his hands are free to lift up my top.

We're all alone now on this abandoned hill. The world, the lights, the sounds all fall away as I drown in this man. I gasp his name when he grinds against me. He laughs against my skin, pressing a kiss against my breast. Our joining is far from elegant or romantic. It's frenzied and rushed, like a pair of beasts in rut. It's a dizzying mess of fumbling to take off clothes and undo buckles; a hurried need for oneness that won't be put off or denied.

He bites and I scratch, though he's always careful not to go too far. Always holding back, just enough to make me wonder if I'll ever be able to handle him when he loses that unyielding self-control. A fire, unchecked. I yearn to burn in it.

After the haze of lust is spent, he helps me back into my clothes. Once again, the ruthless King is a sweet and doting lover. He checks my bandages, brushing silken lips against the swollen stitches on my shoulder. I buckle his belt, adjusting the holstered guns against his hips.

A sudden rush of anxiety and sadness makes my head spin.

My time with him is ending.

I have to let him go, and this time I really have absolutely no idea when we will see each other again.

"Sylus," I whisper, not trusting my voice not to break. "I...do I have to...leave?"

I never could have imagined that I would be so bold. Bold and foolish. Clingy.

Shame fills me, but it cannot override my sadness.

"Can't I fight Noxis by your side?"

He observes me from above, and I wonder if I am just another piece of the King's domain. My words are heavy and full of feeling, yet his eyes remain a hard glimmering ruby. Unwavering. Unmoved.

My pride rebels. But, what good is pride when I am being separated from someone that I...

That I...what?

The answer comes to me, yet I deny it. Completely. Entirely.

The truth my heart reveals is something that can never come to pass.

Not ever.

My hands ball into fists.

"What is it that you want from me, Sylus?"

I'm about to try to back out of the trap I've just stepped into when suddenly he moves forward and pulls me into a tight hug. I hear his heart beating against my ear. Steady as always. Controlled. Yet when he nuzzles into my neck, his voice is strained.

"What do I want?" he echoes. His words thin out into a whisper. "You should already know."

I shiver, and my heart screams.

Screams and screams.

My resolve shatters.

I hug him back, my arms shaking.

"I don't want to leave," I say in a rush. My eyes sting. "You want to fight them alone? You want me to stay out of this? Are you crazy? Are you mad?" My hand slaps his arm. "You frustrating, infuriating, impossible asshole! Can't you see how worried I am about you?"

He gives a low, exasperated chuckle. "Finally honest, kitten? Took you long enough." He tightens his embrace, catching my wrist in his large hand. "Yes, yes. Being tied to a bad man like me is beyond reasonable."

"It's completely unreasonable!" I shout at him, tears running waterfalls down my cheeks.

When he backs away, his eyes are soft, twinkling with mischief and something else, something I haven't seen there before. He thumbs away my tears.

"Shedding tears now? How endearing."

"Don't treat me like a child," I pout, knowing that I'm the one really being unreasonable now. "Or a kitten. Or a dove. Or whatever the hell else you come up with."

He holds me as I calm down, and when I can think straight, he asks, "So? Do you still not know what I want from you?"

I shake my head, stubborn. I don't want to rely on assumptions. I want to hear him say it. Clearly. So I can't doubt my sanity when we're apart.

He chuckles and presses a kiss to my forehead. "You should know that I adore you," he murmurs, the red in his eyes languid and his voice a tender caress. "There is no love purer than mine."

[bkchaos]

Credit to @jasminem18 for giving the wonderful idea of some angst between Xeno and Exe in my au, which is the inspiration behind this sketchy comic done in a teary eyed delirium!

I had never intended to pair them together as more than bros but Jas, ough, you tempt me....

As consequence, have this writing :']

cw// bit of body horror mentioned (related to Xeno's crystals), hurt/comfort

"I'm sorry!" Xeno cried out, voice cracking as emotion overwhelmed him. Regret, guilt, terror—each felt like an iron cord wrapped around his throat, choking every ragged breath he took. Tears streamed down his face. His chest seized with each step Exe took away from him. His skin ached as more crystals tore through, slowly creeping out.

"Please."

His legs could hardly move. Stumbling forward, he shakily reached out for his dearest friend's hand.

"Please, Exe, please..."

Xeno never had a problem with Exe's muteness. He had never wanted to force him to speak for any reason, and he was perfectly content to sign back and forth their usual jokes and gossip...but now? He silently begged for a word. Something, anything, just turn around—!

No.

Xeno froze.

No. No!

Slowly, his head turned up to stare up at Exe looming over him. His brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, as did his hands that trembled at his sides. Fury and hate were written across his features—and rightfully so, Xeno thought—but what hurt the most were the pained tears that rolled down Exe's cheeks.

No! No! No! No! No! The voice, unknown yet known at the same time, screeched at Xeno who simply stared up at Exe. His dearest friend. The only person he truly, truly cared about more than anything else in the world. Exe, the one person he wholeheartedly loved yet realized only when he fucked everything up. The cacophony of screeches had little effect on Xeno, aside from a growing ringing in his ears, as he slumped to his knees with a harsh thud and crack from the crystals embedded within his knees.

His body ached. Screamed. Pain searing with the spread of crystals that tore open every pore of Xeno's skin, creeping out from their points of origin to cover every bit of his body. It rendered him immobile...He didn't want to move, anyway. He didn't know what he wanted to do except for staring up at Exe. Sitting there, thick tears pouring down his face, Xeno let the crystals consume him, welcoming the agony of his body being torn apart with hopes of it drowning out his guilt. His eyes slip shut as he feels crystals digging into his muzzle...

.

.

.

.

With a jolt, Xeno awoke.

He gasped hoarsely for a breath of air. First one, then two, and slowly he found his breathing returning as his core pounded in his chest. He lifted his head up carefully and looked at his surroundings, realizing where he was: the sofa in the shared living space of the four-man dorm. Thank fuck. He let out a relieved sigh, a hand raising to his chest as he realized Rewrite and Fleet were out now. The last thing he needed was angry or weird barging in on him slumped on the sofa with—

Startled yet again, Xeno's eyes widened at the feeling of a gentle kiss placed on his cheek.

A kiss...?

His head turned slowly to look at the source: Exe. His eyes were half-lidded with sleep that he tried to blink away, and his brows creased with concern at Xeno's state. Staring at Exe's calm face, Xeno gradually remembered why Exe and him had fallen asleep. A TV rambled on as a background noise with a film they had randomly picked out, hm...an hour or so ago based on the credits that just begin to roll. Xeno's left arm felt numb from Exe leaning against it so long while curled up into Xeno's side after their discussion where they worked things out.

Finally, a smile played on the corners of Xeno's mouth. That's right. They worked things out. Exe had come out of his room for a snack and found Xeno mindlessly sat on the sofa for the first time in a week, and his heart seized at the sight of Xeno's gauntly form slumped forward staring ahead without a focus in sight. Crystals painfully jutted from nearly every inch of his body, nearly obscuring most of his quills and fur.

Exe couldn't continue storming out as he had been doing. He came over, sat beside Xeno, remaining in unnoticed silence for a few minutes before finally shaking Xeno's knee gently to capture his attention. Exe begun to sign, but from there, Xeno's mind becomes blurry as tears well within his eyes. The details of what came pouring from his mouth are known only to Exe by this point because all Xeno remembers is apologizing over, over, and over until Exe hugged him.

With a choked chuckle, Xeno's mind returned to the present moment. He leaned forward just enough to press his nose against Exe's smaller and stubbier one, and his lip trembled as he smiled at Exe's comforting gaze. They were okay. Xeno raised a hand to softly cup Exe's cheek and paused, waiting to see if Exe would pull away.

Things would take time to heal, yet the way Exe leaned in to complete the kiss without an ounce of hesitance assured Xeno it would work out for both of them. Another bout of tears came trickling down Xeno's cheeks, though he didn't mind them this time. He let his eyes slip shut peacefully as he held Exe close, smiling happily and losing himself in the quiet bliss, while Exe's hands on Xeno's waist drew him ever closer.

What Xeno endured had been a nightmare—both literally and figuratively—but finally, he found himself awake and alright with Exe in his arms despite it all. 

[fangsandsoftgrass]

Day 5 All dressed up./Blade.

Some stabbing aftercare :3

"Cirwedh!"

Her name was being called from somewhere, but the black creeping into view hid the figure as his footsteps neared.

It was only a single moment of distraction—a single glance at the vampire behind her—that's all it took, before Cirwedh was folding over and clutching at the blade now protruding from her stomach. By some miracle she had remained on her feet long enough to snatch an arrow and send it flying into the Reachmen bastard the sword belonged to, before crumpling to her hands and knees.

"Cirwedh! Oh gods, you're bleeding." Fennorian was by her side in a matter of seconds, hands pulling her from the dirt and into his lap.

Somewhere behind them the angry growls of Gladriel drowned out the screaming cultist she held between her jaws as she hungrily tore him apart. There had been maybe a day's journey left until they reached Markarth again when a group of Ghostsong witches had ambushed them. Now, she was stuck like a pig and bleeding just as badly.

"Fenn," crimson stained her spit as it trickled from the corners of her mouth and down her chin, her words gargled as she tried to speak, "Fenn it's okay."

It was anything but okay. In the months they'd known each other Cirwedh had neglected to inform him of her unique relationship with bodily harm—and despite the many times Lyris alluded to it, he simply never asked—so now as she tried to explain, it fell on deaf ears as he frantically began stripping away the furs surrounding the wound.

"I'm going to have to remove the blade," his voice was shaking, but his attention remained focused on the protruding weapon and the torn flesh around it. "I can heal this, if I can get the blade out. Just don't bleed out on me now, okay?"

Whether it was the pain or the delirium from it Cirwedh couldn't help the laugh that bubbles up and out through blood-stained teeth, throwing her head back and biting her palm to stifle it as Fennorian worried over her. Had he not been here she'd simply have died and risen again, although with a new scar.

His hands were surprisingly warm as he lifted her up enough to reach the sword's hilt sticking out of her back, and as he pulled her head onto his shoulder the smell of sweat and herbs left a tingle in her chest. Somehow, despite the situation, Cirwedh found herself flustered when his hand pressed into the soft flesh of her stomach. What half-baked flirt she was going to say was replaced by a howling scream as the blade was suddenly pulled from her, and her vision went black.

When Cirwedh's eyes opened the first thing she saw was a familiar pair of pale ruby eyes, and a fanged smile as Fennorian breathed a sigh of relief.

"you're awake! Divines, I thought you'd never wake." His hands were shaking, and as he took her hand she felt how clammy they really were.

Had he been that worried? And where were they? The more she looked the less she recognized, from the dripping stone walls to the glowing moss and dirt floor beneath. Seeming to notice her confusion, Fennorian cleared his throat and sat back, bringing his knees to his chest.

"We're close to Markarth, somewhere in the hills I believe. We found this cave after you'd lost consciousness."

It was then that she realized the mass she'd been propped up against was in fact Gladriel, soundly asleep and fur matted with her blood. When she looked down she noticed the bandages tied around her stomach, stained with splotches of dried brown and packed with herbs that numbed the skin beneath.

"how long was I out?"

"we've been here a few hours, now. It's dark out, so we'll need to stay til morning at the least." Something was wrong though, and his tone had shifted to one that was almost melancholy.

"Fennorian," she tried to reach for him, but recoiled when there was pain. "Fenn, I'm sorry. I should have been more careful, we'd be talking to the Ard now if I hadn't let my guard down."

The look she gets is one of disbelief, and when she opens her mouth to further apologize, she's cut off as he suddenly wraps his arms around her and buries his face in the crook of her neck. For a moment there's warmth as he holds her close and mumbles into her hair, arms tightening slightly as she returns the embrace. When he pulls back, there's tears in his eyes.

"I thought you'd never wake up." He used the back of his hand to wipe his eyes, sniffling before he continued. "I thought this is it, she's dead and now her bear is going to eat me."

At this, Cirwedh can't help but laugh despite the jabs of pain between gasps. Had he really been so worried? The thought brought a certain warmth to her cheeks.

"She'd more likely make you eat me first, If we're following customs."

This earned a light chuckle from Fennorian, his breath tickling as he peppers kisses across her cheeks and nose. Cirwedh looked out past the disheveled mess of his hair and into the night sky outside the cave, hands absentmindedly rubbing soothing patterns across his back. She had been hesitant, at first, to tell him about her soul's troubled gift, but now it seemed like she had no choice. A simple blade in the gut had made it for her. Come morning they'd have a long journey back to Markarth, but an even longer conversation after.

[irondad-defensesquad]

Would you know my name if I saw you in Heaven?

Also on AO3!

TRIGGER WARNINGS - past character death, hallucination, and delirium (might be medically incorrect).

DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/roship DNI.

--

It’s a slow day today. Mainly because Tony canceled all of his appointments to take care of a sick Peter Parker.

Admittedly, Tony has never taken care of a sick kid before, but he just knew something was off when he realized Peter was late for school early this morning. Getting there, he found the boy running a high fever, whimpering to himself. Luckily, Peter was able to stomach some tea and enhanced medication Tony found in the lab. F.R.I.D.A.Y hasn’t detected any bad side effects for now.

Halfway through the afternoon, Tony is checking on the Spider-Man suit and the Baby Monitor. He already called both Peter’s school and May to let them know about the kid’s whereabouts. Nothing out of the ordinary for now. Everything seems peaceful…

That is, when F.R.I.D.A.Y gives him a concerning report.

“Peter has gotten out of bed and is now in the hallway. He seems to be in distress.”

Tony freezes. “What do you mean?”

“He appears to be lost and confused, unsure where he is. He must be experiencing a fever delirium, judging by his high body temperature.”

The man drops everything and rushes there, until he stops. Peter is touching the walls as though he has never been here before.

“Peter?” Tony calls him.

The teen looks back, clearly half-asleep. His eyes are deep like outer space. And for some reason, Peter looks shocked to see Tony. As in astonished. As in… he hasn’t seen him in years.

“... Uncle Ben?”

Oh my god.

Tony doesn’t know what to say.

All he knows is that he needs to get Peter back in bed, or else he’s going to get hurt.

“Is it really you?” Peter starts coming his way…

Only to stumble. Tony is not fast enough to catch him before he falls on the floor.

“I got you,” he whispers. The kid is burning. “I got you, you’re okay.”

He tries to help Peter stand…

But the boy instead wraps his arms around Tony very tightly, and he’s sobbing like never before.

“I-I’m sorry,” Peter begs. “I’m s-so sorry, Uncle Ben…”

Once again, Tony is at a loss of words. He can’t just say, I’m not Uncle Ben, he’s dead, he’s been dead for a while. That’s just going to make things worse.

“Peter, I’ll just–” Tony tries to lift him.

“No! Don’t go, please, don’t leave me!”

“Shhh, shh…” Tony embraces him more properly. “I’m not going anywhere, kiddo.”

“I’m sorry, please…”

“Shhh… it’s alright, bud.”

Tony feels awful for… pretending to be Peter’s dead uncle, but again, he knows that doing otherwise wouldn’t help. At the very least it’s enough for Peter to calm down, so Tony is able to guide him back to his room. The blanket was thrown to the floor, so Tony grabs it and tucks Peter in.

“Stay?” Peter grabs Tony’s sleeve.

The latter smiles, trying not to break right now. “Of course.”

Peter even scoots to leave some space for him. Tony protects both of them with the blanket and Peter… immediately glues to him again, sounding relieved and probably the happiest he’s been.

“... I love you,” the kid mumbles.

Tony doesn’t think he’s ever heard these words so clearly, coming from Peter.

They aren’t for Tony, though.

Regardless… “I love you, too, Pete.”

He doesn’t get any answer.

Peter must have fallen asleep again.

He probably didn’t hear Tony.

--

Peter sleeps like a rock.

When Tony is sure he’ll be okay and his fever has gone down, Tony decides to take care of the food. Something lighter so the kid doesn’t feel queasy or anything.

It’s nighttime, the TV is on, when Peter is caught coming to the kitchen, rubbing one of his eyes. He looks a lot better than before.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony smiles. “Feeling better?”

“Mmm… I think so.”

“Alright, so, I got you some toasts, Gatorade… and a banana. I assume you’re hungry.”

“Yeah… But I think I can eat more than that.”

“Just be careful.”

Admittedly, Tony himself is not too hungry, probably because of stress. He just drinks his classic coffee for now. In the meantime, he watches Peter, who looks like he didn’t have that episode today. However, he still looks contemplative while he eats.

Eventually, Peter hums to himself.

“... Man, I had this weird dream… I woke up in my old apartment and then… I saw my uncle standing right there, calling my name. It was like I had just woken up from a nightmare… But, like, Uncle Ben looked kinda different. He had darker hair and he wasn’t wearing any glasses. But it was him, I knew he was there. He took me to bed and stayed with me until I fell asleep again…”

Just a few seconds later, Peter is laughing at the absurdity of his “dream”.

“Weird, right?” The teen comments and resumes his meal.

It’s so jarring.

Just hours ago, this kid was crying and holding onto Tony for dear life. Peter was begging him to stay. Peter said “I love you” to Tony.

But to him, it wasn’t Tony.

To Peter, it was Uncle Ben who came back to look after him one last time. It was Uncle Ben who told Peter that he loved him and didn’t hate Peter for what happened. Everything was okay then.

Tony can’t for the life of him ruin that. He can’t tell the kid that he was feverish or hallucinating. That would destroy Peter. Tony needs to let him have that, at the very least.

Even if Peter never meant “I love you” to Tony.

(After all, does he deserve it?)

“... are you okay, Mr. Stark?”

Now Peter is the one with a concerned look.

“Yeah, of course,” Tony replies, taking another sip of his coffee.

The teen may not believe him, but he looks away, focusing on his phone next to his plate.

Tony has decided he won’t tell Peter the truth about his “dream”, but… he also feels like he shouldn’t just do nothing about it. Every time he does nothing, something will always go wrong.

The hero knows he can’t fill the emptiness in Peter’s heart. He doesn’t want to replace it. But he doesn’t want Peter to believe it’s not important. It must hurt like hell. It must haunt Peter every single day of his life, even if it’s not obvious all the time. Even if the kid pretends it’s not a big deal.

Tony, for once, leaves the now empty cup of coffee aside. He’s next to Peter now, kneeling down to better face him. The boy looks confused.

“What?” Peter asks.

There are so many words to be said.

But all Tony does is… open his arms.

Peter’s brown eyes widen, knowing what it means.

“Mr. Stark… hey, come on, you don’t have to do that.” He hugs himself instead, looking away.

Tony sighs. “Kid.” He doesn’t say more, but he means more. I’m not doing this out of pity. I’m doing this because I love you. I love you. I love you more than you can imagine.

Peter looks nervous. He’s so hesitant to hug Tony back. Like he’s afraid of doing so. Knowing him, it’s probably because he doesn’t want to hurt Tony, not the other way around.

He eventually complies. He’s trembling.

Tony genuinely wants to cry.

He rubs Peter’s back, to let him know it’s safe.

The teen seems to shiver but in surprise, not because he doesn’t like the contact.

Until he relaxes and lets out a deep sigh.

“... Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

Peter doesn’t just mean the hug.

Tony squeezes him a little tighter.

“Always, kid.”

So many unspoken things.

But at least Tony is there and he’s not leaving.