#sleepy plays: desolation

[tired-needs-sleep]

why am i just now noticing that scarlet's theme is volo's theme

[akaakeis]

going on a drive with them -- multi .ᐟ.ᐟ

pairing(s) : bokuto kōtarō, kuroo tetsurō, suna rintarō, sakusa kiyoomi, and kiyoko shimizu x gn!reader (separate!!)

wc : ~200 each .ᐟ

notes//cw : happy 300 posts !! this is me brain dumping bc i haven't posted any writing lately,, food is mentioned in suna's and kuroo's,, they are the ones driving in this hc- let me know if u want a ver. w the reader driving!,, i think that's it tho!! lmk if i missed anything <3

𖥔  oh gosh... a car ride with kōtarō bokuto is never dull.

𖥔  he loves randomly taking you out for drives!!

𖥔  he's gonna keep a hand on you AT ALL TIMES!! like he'll either have it on your leg or you'll both be resting your arms on the compartment between the seats, holding hands.

𖥔  he will BEG you to take the aux cause he loves your music taste <3

𖥔  if he knows the song well enough he will sing along as you two drive!!

𖥔  not simply singing along though...

𖥔  he will lock in and shout out those lyrics, eventually getting you to sing along with him

𖥔  he probably took you out for the drive a bit before the sunset... yes he planned that!! but akaashi suggested the time LMAO

𖥔  when the sun starts to set, you guys drive into an empty area by the side of the road, and you guys get out of the car

𖥔  and he'll get you both up on the roof of the car!! he brought blankets and stuff too

𖥔  the two of you just sit on the roof of the car and watch the sunset together, all huddled up in the blankets he brought <33

𖥔  on the drive back home, you play softer music and yap about your days together :)

𖥔  it's not a drive with tetsurō kuroo unless it's a late night!!

𖥔  he would be trying to fall asleep but fail miserably, resorting to just waking you up 😭

𖥔  "wanna go drive thru somewhere?"

𖥔  you, in a half-awake state mutter an agreement, getting out of bed and into the car

𖥔  he'll hold your hand as you guys drive and you take the aux out of habit

𖥔  it's safe to say you guys end up having a full on karaoke session in the car once you wake up a bit more!!

𖥔  you guys drive through some random 24hr drive thru and pull into the (extremely empty, desolate even) parking lot to eat your food

𖥔  the two of you end up chilling in the car for the rest of the night!! you use your phone and pull up a show the two of you have been watching and you prop it up on the dash of the car LMAOO

𖥔  so the night turns into a binge watching of some tv series accompanied by a drive thru and some karaoke!!

𖥔  "oh my god we have morning classes tomorrow."

𖥔  yeah maybe it wasn't the best idea BUT AT LEAST IT WAS A LOT OF FUN!!

𖥔  you both end up speeding home and knocking out asap in an attempt to get some rest before pounding your head with information right when you wake up

𖥔  yeah... rintarō suna only takes you on late night drives too.

𖥔  he would randomly start spam texting you in the middle of the night saying "let's go to (some 24 hour drive thru)"

𖥔  and you were still awake so why not?

𖥔  he has a DEATHGRIP on having the aux... in the car, don't expect to get the aux unless he's converted you into a severe underground music glazer.

𖥔  he'll be playing the most unknown songs to mankind... but they're honestly pretty good!!

𖥔 it's a pretty chill car ride, honestly

𖥔  you'll be leaning over on his shoulder and just vibing out w the music

𖥔  he'd be telling you about the song and the artist too :))

𖥔  when you're done with that car ride you will have like... 5 new music artists that you like

𖥔  anyway you guys go through the drive thru pretty quick and you head straight home!!

𖥔  once ygs get home you go to his room and continue listening to his playlist and chat while you eat your food <3

𖥔  it ends up becoming a gossip session LMAO

𖥔  ALSO!! you guys pull an all nighter together

𖥔  kiyoomi sakusa took you out for a drive because you weren't able to sleep <3

𖥔  he thought that going for a drive would help to calm your nerves and make you sleepy

𖥔  honestly he was right because he's a really good driver... the ride wasn't bumpy at all!!

𖥔  he holds onto your hand as you guys drive and he lets you use the aux- you opt for calmer music so that he enjoys it too :)

𖥔  he also tells you about his day since he knows you like the sound of his voice

𖥔  just random yapping so that you get to listen to him talk... his voice is so soothing!!!

𖥔  did i mention when he's holding onto your hand he's running his thumb back and forth on the back of your hand

𖥔  he doesn't notice at first when you fall asleep but when he does? he shuts up and and finds himself smiling at how cute you look when you're asleep

𖥔  he drives back home and carries you into the house, putting you into bed before crawling in after you

𖥔  it was a super duper peaceful night <33

𖥔  kiyoko shimizu had a plan before taking you out for a drive!!

𖥔  she didn't tell you anything and was purposely vague about where you would both be going <3

𖥔  LITTLE DID YOU KNOW!!! THE AURORA BOREALIS WAS GOING TO BE VISIBLE THAT NIGHT!!!

𖥔  she took you out for the drive when the sun was setting, and you guys were aimlessly driving around for about an hour while listening to music on the radio <3

𖥔  you guys got to chat a lot during the drive, and for the entirety of that time, she had one of your hands pulled onto her lap as she drove!! <3

𖥔  when the lights were finally showing up in the sky you guys were in a very rural area, just so that you could see it better

𖥔  the two of you sat on the hood of the car and watch the lights until they went away <3

𖥔  and!!! you guys were cuddled up and sharing a blanket that she always keeps in the back seat of her car for you :)

𖥔  you took a bunch of pictures of the lights- mostly her, but also a couple of the lights-

𖥔  while you guys were watching the lights, you ended up talking about your plans for the future and how she was a part of them <3

𖥔  it was a very soft night for you guys!!

notes :: 

okay i kept giggling while i wrote this 

i love hcs because you dont have to expand on them its just what it is

happy 300 posts!! (im not even at 100 followers yet BYE IM A SPAM POSTER!! I CANT HELP IT!!)

if you enjoyed this, please consider checking out my masterlist!

and following maybe 😋 

btw requests are always welcome!! id love to write stuff for you guys <3

have a lovely morning/afternoon/night!!

🏷️ :: @bokukos + @iiwaijime <3 (i just realized i messed up your user... sorry alina!! 😭)

[death---dealer]

Terror. ( Noa x Human!Reader Oneshot. )

Title: Terror. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Noa x Human!Reader. Rating: T. ( Mentions of violence, death, nightmares. ) Words: 4.5K+ Summary: Noa was a proud Ape. It was surely something he garnered from his parents and he was never one to rely on others to take his burdens and make them their own. But, there has to come a breaking point. ~*Comments, Likes and Reblogs are really appreciated! Thank you! **DOES CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR KINGDOM OF THE PLANET OF THE APES. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. THANK YOU!

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The vacancy of the bed was almost deafening in nature when you rolled yourself out of unconsciousness. Blurred, your eyes were unable to make out any shapes, any indication of the lonely spot next to you. The way that your hand slid outwards in a bid that maybe he was there, maybe your tired mind was imagining the emptiness, reaching out for the Ape that was always there with you, even when you weren’t aware. Your fingers catapulting against the nature of the animal pelts that you so lovingly embraced on the cold nights that Noa was late to come rest. So very desolate and it felt bitter trying to bargain with yourself why Noa wasn’t there.

Perhaps, you thought in your sleepy slumber and lifted yourself up enough to confirm that the spot next to you was barren, he got up every night and left you. You’d have no premonition regarding; you were often sawing into the throes of sleep and wouldn’t notice him leaving if he did it every night, or at the very least, on a consistent basis. That… Your mind twisted in a boggled way as it was trying to steady itself into a more aware state. That wasn't like Noa at all. In fact, the Chimpanzee was a rather deep sleeper, it took him much to wake up in the morning let alone in the middle of the night, as you suspected from the dim light of the fire buzzing itself into destruction in the corner of the hut.

You groaned softly against the fox pelt that you used as a pillow and found yourself rolling onto your back, staring at the ceiling in pensive silence for a few moments. Surely, you could go back to bed and wake up with Noa there. Maybe, this entire thing was a dream and you were stuck in a strange lucid state inside of your own subconscious, able to move your body, able to think, able to comprehend but still in the fantasies that you were blessed with when the sleep was just that satisfying and deep-seated.

Drawing a deep breath in, your eyes stared holes into the shadows along the shafts of the ceiling above you. How they flickered with the dying light of the fire, how they casted and played along themselves. Sleep was grabbing you from the back and trying to pull you back. The shake of the empty spot next to you kept you teetering against the backdrop of falling under.

Sound snapped you out of the delectable sensation of slumber ravishing at your senses. Jumping slightly, your heart raced and raised to rest uncomfortably at the back of your throat. Automatically, in your already vulnerable state of rest, you went straight into a panic. What was the sound? Without Noa there, there was no protection if you were under attack. In your haze, the vibrations of the sound were similar to the way that the boards of your perched nest would resonate when weight was put on it. Mind racing, you shot up in bed and looked out the small window of your shared hut, grasping tightly at an animal pelt and pressing it into your chest. Yeah, that was going to protect you, your mind quipped sarcastically.

There was an illusion of shadows played against your dilated eyes as they were trying eagerly to come into focus and shift so you could see better in the dark. At least… You thought they were just in your mind but they were too consistent with the sound of wood pressuring underweight. There was… Oh no. Tightening your grasp on the animal pelt in front of you, taking the serious notion that it was going to somehow protect you, you crawled on your knees to the edge of the nest and urged your body to stand.

Your feet hit the planks below with a small ‘thud’, your weight unsteady as you rose and shuffled. It was comedic, you would have figured that if someone saw the way you were moving so synthetically, animal pelt in front of your body, your feet vibrating against the floor, your eyes widened with bleak anticipation as you pressed on towards the entrance of the hut, they’d laugh at your lack of confidence and stance.

You were trying to keep the thoughts at bay. There was not someone outside, it was just the wind. On a steady night. Not one leaf shifted or beckoned to fall off with the push of a simple breeze. Swallowing softly, you stared at the entryway. There was either nothing there or you were about to be killed. Take your choice. That was your brain's way of coping with this. Sarcasm. How great. I could die right now from an aggressive Ape outside and all I can think to do is make a joke.

Slipping your hand against the smoothness of the dark cloth that served as a privacy barrier in the entryway, you were fast to move it to the side and step backwards again, almost tumbling as a response to your body jerking so quickly. Okay, so… There was no one coming in, that was good. Drawing a deep breath in, you took the step you had taken backwards and pushed to move forwards. One step turned into two, three, four… Peeping your head out, you were thankful for the lit fire stakes that were situated all around the village that kept you from complete darkness at night. There was no one to the right, that was great. That was the way to enter the nest. Turning your head, you then rigidly pressed your attention to the left where there was a ledge to either sit and take the sun, or to rest when you didn't want to be in the entanglements of the nest.

You were frozen to the ground for a split second peering at the form you had seen. Contemplating going back into the hut was heavy, but then… Narrowing your eyes, you recognized that hunched over body. The way that the spine curved, almost right into itself, the placement of the feet, broad against the paneling of the wood below, the drift of the shoulders. Noa. Your mind felt a strong sense of relief followed by the euphoric nature of your entire body releasing tension. Raising a hand, you placed it against your heart and told it to calm down. With a bit more fever in your gait, you stepped out from the enclosure of your home and pattered silently to the young Ape.

In all other situations, he was always quick to greet by raising his head in acknowledgement, he was always fascinated in the way that you’d maintain eye contact with him, or the beam of a smile you’d greet him with. This…? Your feet came to a solemn stop, right foot behind the left as you hesitated moving forward. He had to know you were there, there was absolutely no way he wouldn’t be able to smell you with his acute senses. There was no way that you were as quiet as you were trying to be.

Something was wrong. Swallowing hard, you looked over him again, more cognizant than you were before at the idea that something was wrong. The hunch of his shoulders… He was closing in on himself, his head resting against his forearms as he had tightly knitted himself into a ball, knees enclosed by his chest. Glancing out, you noted that he was looking at nothing. Or at least, to your eyes, it appeared like it was just empty space he was floating off into. His shoulders were pulling in, almost defensive in nature. You didn't want to disturb him if he was deep in thought - if he didn't want you there. Obviously, he got out of the nest for a reason, your mind was tangling in on itself, having no clue what to do. But, before any rational premises came upon you, you were speaking.

“Noa?”

You could feel it radiating off of him in waves; the intensity of emotions that Noa was uncertain how to cope with. The smothering sensation he found himself in even though your tender voice, calling out to him from the pit of darkness, was a pull out of suffocation. Noa was beyond tired; his body felt like it was going to close in on itself but his mind was running around in circles around the exhaustion. Not even taking a second's worth of energy to look at you which in itself was abhorrent.

The Ape tightened himself at that. He couldn’t untangle himself enough to look at you, his love, his life, his mate. You came to rest next to him, the placement of the animal pelt against your shoulders enticing him momentarily and suddenly all he wanted was to consume you, to be around you in any aspect, in some bid to get himself grounded and back to a sense of belonging and peacefulness. He sighed- Shoulders rising and falling with increased distress. Green eyes were following the dance of the fire stakes of the village. Rushing from one, to the next, to the next, all the way to the most distant stake - barely a simmer in the darkness at the very edge of the Clan.

You were biding your time, Noa knew you enough that out of his peripheral vision he could sense your fingers playing against the animal fur of the pelt that made the journey out, your eyes drifting between the darkened landscape and Noa himself. He could feel your attempts to analyze his face, so painful to him at the moment, it felt like a hot brand was encasing his chest and he was drowning in flames.

To your dismay, Noa kept his chin tilted downwards so you couldn’t see him; the shadows of the fire kept messing with the perception of his expression. Unsettled silence wrapped the two of you into a blanket of mere suffocation. Noa would say something - anything - just to break it but it felt like he couldn’t. The process his mind was going through - piecing one minor detail to another to build a bigger picture took his obsessive personality to the next level until he had built himself a figurative wall between himself and you.

It was a quiet enough night. The tendered horses in the paddock were snorting to your right and you found yourself drawn to look at them, though admittedly, their forms were hard to make out from the distance. This was the first time you had actually seen the entire village from this perspective; sitting outside of the nest on the ledge was not your favorite thing to do. Looking down was enough to cause your stomach to feel unsettled, so you adamantly avoided gazing straight down. Instead, you focused on the horses. On the fires that Noa also found himself entranced by.

“What… is it…” Noa was the first to break the icy wall he had built, your skin prickling at the mere sound of his words. So rough and baritone now, you swore the vibrations were going to pick you up and throw you over the edge. “Called when… the… things you see are not good?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his inquiry, you had no idea how to answer without any more context, “What do you mean?” Your voice was a seering knife to him but he found himself drawn to it and wanted nothing more than for it to pierce his sensitive skin.

“The… things,” Raising his hand, he pressed it to his temple. His fingers were furled in on themselves, rigid and assuming emotions that neither of you were able to read. Noa was shut off to you, and Noa himself? The emotions were unread because he couldn’t comprehend them in their entirety. “The things… When I’m sleeping.”

Dreams, your mouth opened to say that but Noa continued on.

“They are… terrible…” His voice cracked as he came to a tapering stop, not willing to repeat himself. Instead, he looked at you for the first time. It felt shattering to see - The slope of his face falling into a grimace of self-destruction. His mouth laid open, something Noa tended to do when he was deep in thought. The delicate wrinkles under his beautifully speckled eyes, peering so desperately at you for some form of solace, freckles lining along the bridge of his brows, along the fur of his head, down the sides of his face. You thought about them for a moment as you looked at him.

No… Not just at him anymore, you passed that the moment you mated. You were looking inside of him. That was a cue for you and you were rather hasty to lift your hand and lightly place it against his cheek. Noa accepted it - or maybe he just didn't have it in him to move away. Shifting in your spot at how unnerved it felt to have him look at you like that, you listened to him carry on in that sickeningly agony-laid voice as your fingers collapsed against the rougher nature of the skin on his face, tickling themselves along his beard like he always enjoyed.

“They are not good… Scare… ” Noa gasped softly and tilted his head into your open palm. Hold me, he said, hold me and tell me what’s happening to me.

Not dreams, you thought.

Biting your bottom lip, you drew a deep breath into your lungs and savored the feeling of pain at the expansion. You figured it was a better feeling than the answer to the question Noa posed. “You’re having nightmares, Noa… They’re the…. The opposite of a good dream…”

“Nightmares,” Always so prompt to respond when you tell him a new word, you were somewhat relieved that he was still Noa enough to do that, “Why?”

That you had no answer to and the two of you found yourself falling into a rather oppressive silence. Noa had his eyes shut as he pressed his face further into your hand, enjoying the closeness of your scent to his nose. It put him in an eased state despite the disparity happening in his thoughts. In the time it took you to move your other hand upwards to entirely cup his face in your grasp, Noa’s body urged itself out of the tightened form it had been in since he left the nest to be outside in deep contemplation. He opened himself up to you, grazing his hands against the ones you had on his face before pulling you into him. Foreheads touched, eyes shut and Noa’s mouth propped open in a split moment of clarity.

“Always,” Noa broke away from you first, but kept a close distance as you began lightly stroking your thumbs along his lower jaw. He always liked that. “Always about Eagle Clan…” His voice narrowed with increased hopelessness, “Fire… So… So much fire. Thought maybe could warn the Eagle Clan before. Was not fast enough… Stupid Noa.” You could feel his jaw clench under your touch as he tried to reserve himself from flying off the metaphorical handle.

Whatever grasp he had, the only thing that was keeping him from letting go was your presence in front of him. “Was Apes who did this… Terrible…” That was one of his favorite words to describe the destruction of the Village, at least, that’s what he often chose when you two were wrapped in that conversation. Not often, once or twice, and he only ever gave you enough details to piece it together vaguely. Never this clear, never this conscious.

“So… so scared…” Swallowed gently, he laid his hands on your shoulders and with that, you dropped the animal pelt to pool around your waist. He was trembling, you could feel it against your skin, “Tried to save Father… Noa is so weak,” Third-person talking often indicated to you a racing mind, he had no time to put it into the right perspective. He didn't need to; you always understood what he was saying. “Couldn’t…”

This was all new information but it didn't take your mind long to process. Noa was having nightmares about the night when his Village was ransacked, his people taken, with many lost, including his Father Koro. Empathy surged over you and it was abundantly overwhelming as you had to watch as Noa crumbled quite literally in your hands. You rose, now shifting yourself onto your knees as you pulled him to move with you.

The animal pelt was forgotten, falling onto the wooden planks below to be remembered at a later date. He complied hazily to your body’s request, twisting his form with yours so you were on your knees in front of him and Noa was sitting, opening his legs for you to slide between them which you were happy to indulge in. You brought his head in to yours again ;Noa fully expecting you to place your forehead against his own - Always the preferred, always the best way to comfort amongst Apes. He shut his eyes in anticipation.

Nothing came for a minute and when Noa lifted his eyelids to look at you, he found himself under your gaze and unable to break the contact. This all felt incredibly Echo. The position of your bodies, you above him and looking down, Noa complacent. He’d only move if you asked him to. Noa looked from one eye to the other, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something. He could see the tears forming around the corner of your eyes even in this dim lighting. He could feel the touch of your fingers, now tangling into his beard with turmoil. Something snapped -

Noa grasped at you, his long arms entirely bringing your body right against his own. Hard in nature, the gasp you let out fell to echo into the night as you reciprocated and grasped him back in a tight hug, arms tangling themselves along his broad upper half to hold his shoulderblades. Noa could snap you in half, it was a thought that always lingered but now? You wanted nothing more than that. You’d let him if it helped him feel better. Noa could beat you down to the ground, his strong fist against your body, if it would just take away the agony he was clearly grappling with. You were clearly grappling with.

You had no words, nothing you were going to say would help and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t speak. Instead, you brought yourself to a physical response that you knew Noa would see as incredibly ‘Echo’. A hug of empathy. Hugging was common with Apes, you knew but this? The press of your ribcage against his muscular chest, the feeling of his long fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt, face drawing itself into the crook of your neck. You wanted to take Noa down with you to forget the world, to forget the nightmares and responsibilities.

Tucking your legs in, you wrapped them around his thinned waist and pressed into him further in a straddle, almost wanting to crawl inside of his warmth, crawl inside of his mind in some attempt to help him understand the nightmares, understand the feelings and the justifications he had to have them. They did not make him weak, they would always make him stronger, though from the feeble way he was holding you, you had no doubt that he couldn’t see that as an outcome.

“Miss him,” Noa whispered against your neck, his breath hot against your skin. It caused a chill to spiral down your spine and it was quick to rest on your tailbone. Noa had swiftly dropped his hands from their captivity around your upper half to centralize on your lower back, pressing with some strength to keep you near to him. More comfortable for both of you. “Miss him so much… Some… Sometimes… wonder if he would…. He…” He couldn’t say it, bringing one hand up to sign before it resumed its placement on the small of your back.

Proud.

You watched him sign with such misery that it felt like your heart was going to sink to the floor below, the ground and then dig into the Earth itself just so it didn't have to rest in the uncomfortable cocoon of your chest. Moving your hands, you drew upwards and lightly dug them into the brown fur at the back of his neck, petting upwards to embed them around his ears. “We’re all proud Noa.” The young Chimp only shifted at your words, not having it in him to agree or disagree. Your voice shot through him though- he was so close to your neck that it felt like each word you spoke was seeping into every pore of his body. Green eyes even watched as your jugular moved as you verbalized, taking time to admire that, taking time to focus on something that wasn’t antagonistic. “I--- I know your Father would be proud.”

He scoffed at that, “Did not know him.”

You groaned to yourself. Right. Empathy like this was a foreign concept and it often left Noa defensive if you weren’t more careful around it.

“Just one of those Echo things.” It was apparent that Noa wasn’t in the mood to joke and you slapped yourself mentally for even trying. Dropping your shoulders, you craned your head down. Lightly shifting a hand from around his ear, you aided Noa in lifting his head so you could look at him again. Not angry, not jokingly, not empathetic… But as one. One bonded pair.

“But, I know you, Noa…” You could see him swallow, feeling him pushing on your back in a frenzied notion to get you as close as possible, to get you to comfort him further until he felt nothing else. Your hand lifted and you placed it against his bottom lip. You held his entire chin in a pinched grasp. “I know you… How strong you are, how much of a Leader you are everyday…” He snapped his head away from your grasp in a vicious movement to look off in the distance, “Noa, you need to listen to me.”

The scold in your voice made him pause for a second before he looked back at you hesitantly, green eyes no longer accepting like they had been and they were quick to turn defensive. Noa was waiting for you to continue but you found your mouth dry at the pure emotions now collapsing against him. You shut your mouth and swallowed, trying hard to lubricate enough to say something, anything to him, before he shoved you aside to leave. Shoved you aside to cope, shoved you aside forever… Tightening your grasp around his ear, you grappled for a full handful of his mildly-coarse fur, your other hand resuming its position. You grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you, whether he wanted to or not, assuming that if he did not, he’d move to push you off or tell you to stop.

“Look at what you’ve done… You--- You rebuilt. The Clan, the Elders… They’re all so grateful to you, Noa. Look at your Mother.” Noa perked up. “Look at Soona, Anaya… Look at me, Noa.”

That was either a demand or you were just finishing your statement, Noa couldn’t tell but he found himself looking deep into you to the point where it felt like you were unable to catch your breath, unable to reach for anything or anyone else. His fingers were digging roughly into your skin despite the fabric of your shirt being a buffer. Aware of the bruises that were going to be there tomorrow, you drew yourself inwards and placed your forehead against his. “I-I’m sorry… About your Father… About the nightmares… But you can’t do it alone.”

That got him irrationally irritated as he began bargaining inside of his mind, “Do not want to bring you into this,” Noa muttered under his breath and lifted one of his hands to grasp at the back of your head. You were not moving from him anymore, you were keeping your forehead against his, even if it meant that the back of your skull was turned into fine dust from the pressure of his touch. “Can not. Too much pain,” Gasping softly at the feeling of his fingers tangling into your hair, you braced a hand against his chest. “But I can… Can’t stop…” His voice wavered around the edge in crinkled grief, “I want to do this alone, but you…” Noa was searching for any explanation, any formidable thought that his words made any sense but there was none. “I… need…” You.

Noa finally crumpled against you, dropping his head and placing it against the bridge between your breasts. Much like a child to their mother, you grasped around his head and pulled him into you further. Sleep was no longer on the horizon. Your senses were shot, but you were sure when you and Noa ended up back in the nest, sleep would not come easy to either of you and you’d roll into the comfortable silence and intimate nature of how he gazed at you, petting you with his eyes as he’d bring you closer, closer… But for right now, on the ledge outside of the nest you made with him, you didn't feel like moving. You didn't feel like speaking.

You only felt Noa.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: Chapter One

Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: You've got narcolepsy and have been visiting the Dreaming daily for years. Then its Lord and King finally return and he doesn't know quite what to think of you.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Narcoleptic!Reader, for you dear @aralezinspace.

Word Count: ~2.6k

Masterlist | Next

You awaken to the familiar yet deteriorating landscape of the Dreaming. For years, your narcolepsy has transported you daily into this realm—a realm that, despite its barrenness and brokenness, has become your sanctuary. The muted grays and browns are beautiful to you, in a special way, but you know that the true majesty of the realm cannot emerge without its master, Dream. A being you've never met and only heard stories of. Yet, despite its decay, you have forged friendships here, finding solace among its inhabitants.

You walk through the desolate meadow, the grass crunching underfoot like dried paper. The sky is a dull, oppressive gray, reflecting the sea of sand and rock that neighbors the palace ruins. Your destination is the Library, a place that has barely managed to retain some semblance of order thanks to Lucienne’s tireless efforts. As you approach the grand, time-worn doors of the library, you feel a pang of sorrow for the state of this once magnificent realm.

“Lucienne?” you call out, your voice echoing through the cavernous hall as you step inside.

From behind a towering stack of books, Lucienne appears, her face lighting up with a weary smile when she sees you. “Ah, there you are. I was wondering when you would pop up. How are you today?”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “It’s hard to see the Dreaming like this. It feels like a part of me is withering along with it and it was already withering to begin with.”

Lucienne nods, her expression somber. “We all feel it. The absence of Lord Morpheus has taken a toll on this realm. But we must hold on to hope. Things may yet change.”

"It's been over a century, Luce," You point out, "I've been visiting for at least a decade and we've never seen hide nor hair of him. What— what if he's not coming back?"

Lucienne sighs softly, closing the book and replacing it on the shelf. "Maybe not," she admits. "But we can't give up...we must continue searching."

All of the residents that remain, a precious few, were adamant that Dream would return. You believed them, you truly did, but what being abandoned their people like this?? Something terrible must have happened, it was the only explanation you can think of. You were staying strong and hopeful for them, after all, the Dreaming was there home. It was only a temporary place for you to wander until you rouse from your episode. As you ponder what you would do next in this dream, the palace creaks and shakes, the sounds of more stone breaking off and falling to the ground greets your ears.

"Perhaps it would be best if you get out of the palace and visit the brothers? Maybe play with Gregory?" Lucienne offers to you, hoping to get you out of the crumbling palace before you decided to were going to spend your time assisting Mervyn.

"But what if Mervyn—" The librarian cuts you off with a stern look over her spectacles. You glance at Lucienne, her stern expression brooking no argument. With a resigned sigh, you turn and head out of the library, feeling the cool air of the Dreaming settle against your skin. The path to Cain and Abel’s house winds through the remnants of what once was a lush garden, now overrun with thorny vines and twisted trees. At least that's what Mervyn had told you.

As you approach the brothers’ abode, you hear a faint rustling sound followed by a series of thuds. Rounding the corner, you find Gregory tangled up in a net of brambles, his wings flapping uselessly as he tries to free himself.

“Gregory!” you exclaim, rushing to his side. His large, expressive eyes brighten when he sees you. Like a giant puppy, he chirps at you and wiggles his body. You chuckle softly as you begin to untangle the brambles from around his wings. “What happened this time?”

Gregory chirps again, his eyes wide with a mix of relief and sheepishness. You carefully work your way through the tangle of brambles, pulling each thorny vine away from his stone skin. The gargoyle’s weight shifts as he tries to help by flapping his wings, but it only makes the process more cumbersome.

“Hold still, Gregory. You’re not making this any easier,” you mutter with a half-smile.

He lets out a low rumble, a sound that almost seems like an apology. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you manage to free him. Gregory stretches his wings wide and gives a joyful hop, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

“Feeling better?” you ask, brushing off your hands.

Gregory nods vigorously, then nuzzles your shoulder with his large head. His granite skin is always surprisingly warm against your own.

You laugh softly and give him a pat. “Come on, let’s find Cain and Abel.”

The two of you make your way toward the brothers’ house, Gregory trailing close behind like an oversized shadow. As you approach, you hear the unmistakable sound of an argument brewing inside. The voices grow louder until you can make out individual words.

“It was mine! You had no right to take it!” Abel’s voice trembles with indignation.

Cain’s reply is sharp and dismissive. “You never appreciate what you have! Someone needs to teach you a lesson!”

You exchange a knowing glance with Gregory and push open the door. Inside, Cain stands over Abel, who is clutching something close to his chest—a small, tattered book by the looks of it. Both brothers freeze when they see you.

“Is everything alright here?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Cain straightens up and crosses his arms over his chest. “Just a little brotherly disagreement,” he says coolly.

Abel’s eyes dart between Cain and you before he speaks up in a softer voice. “He took my journal. I was writing in it, and he just—”

“It’s just a book,” Cain interrupts with a wave of his hand. “No need to get all worked up about it.”

You step closer to Abel and gently place a hand on his shoulder. “Abel, would you like to show me what you’ve been writing?”

He hesitates for a moment but then nods slowly, opening the journal to reveal pages filled with neat handwriting and detailed sketches—mostly of Gregory in various playful poses.

“These are wonderful,” you say genuinely, flipping through the pages. “You have real talent and Gregory is a stellar model!”

Abel blushes slightly under the praise while Cain rolls his eyes but doesn't comment further on the topic. Cain then suggests you stay for tea, his tone surprisingly warm. "Why don't you join us for some tea? Abel's been perfecting his recipe."

You nod, sensing the tension ebbing away. "I'd love to."

Abel beams and scurries off to prepare the tea. Gregory settles down near the hearth, his tail curling around his feet like a giant cat. You take a seat at the table, watching as Cain busies himself with setting out cups and saucers.

"So," Cain begins, filling the kettle with water. "What brings you here today?"

"Lucienne thought I needed a break," you say, leaning back in your chair. "She suggested visiting you and Abel."

Cain chuckles. "Smart woman. This place can be a bit... intense."

Abel returns with a tray of biscuits just as Cain sets the kettle on the stove. He places the tray in the center of the table and sits down across from you, his expression shy but hopeful.

"I hope you like them," Abel says quietly. "They're Gregory's new favorite."

You smile and reach for a biscuit, breaking it in half and offering a piece to Gregory. The gargoyle's eyes light up as he delicately takes the treat from your hand, chewing with surprising grace.

"These are delicious, Abel," you say after taking a bite of your own half. The biscuit is buttery and sweet, with just the right amount of crunch.

Abel's face lights up with pride. "Thank you! I've been experimenting with different ingredients."

The kettle whistles, and Cain pours steaming tea into each cup before passing them around. You take a sip, savoring the warm, fragrant brew.

"So," Cain says after a moment of silence, "how have things been with managing your narcolepsy Have your doctors come up with any new treatments?"

You take another sip of tea, letting the warmth spread through you. "It's been challenging," you admit. "They've tried a few new medications, but nothing seems to make a significant difference. I'm still visiting the Dreaming just as often."

Cain nods, his expression thoughtful. "It must be difficult, living between two worlds like that."

"It is," you agree, "but the Dreaming feels like a second home now. Even with its current state, there's something comforting about it."

Abel looks up from his tea, curiosity in his eyes. "Do you ever meet anyone else in your dreams? Other than us, I mean."

You think back to the fleeting faces and shadowy figures you've encountered over the years. "Occasionally. Most of them are just passing through, I think. But there are a few regulars."

Cain raises an eyebrow. "Regulars?"

You nod. "People who seem to visit the Dreaming as often as I do. We don't always interact, but there's a sense of familiarity. Like we’re all taking the same bus to work.”

Gregory nuzzles your arm again, reminding you of his presence. You smile and give him another biscuit piece.

"Maybe they’re like us," Abel muses, stirring his tea absently.

"Maybe," you say, watching Gregory's eyes follow the crumbs that fall from your hand.

Cain leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "Well, if you ever need a break from your other world, you're always welcome here."

"Thank you," you say sincerely.

The room falls into a comfortable silence as you all enjoy your tea and biscuits. The tension that had filled the air earlier has dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie.

After a while, Abel stands up and starts clearing the table. Gregory helps by nudging dishes towards him with his nose.

"You know," Cain says thoughtfully, "I've been working on something in the garden. Would you like to see it?"

Your curiosity piqued, you nod eagerly. "I'd love to."

He leads you outside to a small patch of land behind their house where he’s cultivated a modest garden despite the Dreaming’s decay. It's filled with strange and beautiful plants that seem to shimmer in the dim light.

"It's not much," Cain says modestly, "but it's something to focus on."

"It's wonderful," you say sincerely, admiring the vibrant colors and unusual shapes.

Gregory chirps happily beside you while Abel joins Cain's side with a proud smile on his face.

You find yourself at the crumbling gate, alongside Lucienne, helping her clear away some of the rubble that has fallen from the deteriorating structure. The two of you work in  silence, the only sounds being the crunch of debris underfoot and the occasional groan of the ancient walls. Where was Mervyn? He usually helped out with clean up since he was the custodian and grounds keeper.

As you lift a particularly large piece of stone, a sudden gust of wind blows its way past where you stand, carrying with it an eerie, almost tangible sense of presence. You glance at Lucienne, who has frozen in place, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and hope.

“Lucienne?” you begin to ask, but she’s already moving, dropping the rubble she was holding and rushing towards the source of the disturbance. You follow her gaze and see him—Morpheus, the Lord of Dreams—lying amidst a swirl of sand. His dark form contrasts starkly against the desolation around him. Lucienne reaches him first, her voice trembling with a blend of reverence and concern.

“Lord Morpheus!” she exclaims, kneeling beside him. “Sir! Sir!”

You make it to where Lucienne crouches and Morpheus lays. His form is gaunt, his skin pale as moonlight, but his presence is undeniable. Lucienne's hands hover over him, uncertain whether to touch him or not.

“Is he...?” you start to ask, but Lucienne shakes her head.

“He’s alive,” she says, her voice trembling with a mix of relief and disbelief. “He’s come back.”

You watch as Morpheus’s chest rises and falls with shallow breaths. His eyes remain closed, and his expression is one of exhaustion. You kneel beside Lucienne, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“What do we do?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. But before Lucienne replies, Morpheus stirs slightly, his eyes fluttering open.

Lucienne gasps softly and leans closer. “Lord Morpheus? Sir?” His eyes focus on her slowly as if waking from a deep sleep. When he finally speaks, his voice is weak but unmistakably his own.

“Lucienne,” he whispers. Tears fill her eyes as she takes his hand gently in hers.

“Welcome back,” she says softly.

Morpheus’s gaze shifts to you briefly, a darkness flickering within his eyes before it disappears. You rise to your feet and step a few steps back, unsure of what to do or say. Morpheus slowly rises to his feet, his eyes scanning his surroundings with a distant look. He finally focuses on Lucienne, then shifts his gaze to you. His expression is unreadable, a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“Who is this?” he asks, his voice carrying an otherworldly echo.

Lucienne glances back at you before answering. “This is one of our regular visitors. They’ve been coming here for the past decade.”

Morpheus studies you intently, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why do you visit so often?”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “I think we have more pressing concerns at the moment, Lord Morpheus. The Dreaming, she's suffering." Morpheus's eyes bore into you, searching for something unspoken. You hold his gaze, standing your ground even as the weight of his presence presses against you.

"You're right," Morpheus finally concedes, his voice a shadow of its former strength. He had more pressing matters to attend to. He turns to Lucienne. "What has happened here?"

Lucienne hesitates, glancing at you before she begins. "After your disappearance, the Dreaming started to decay. Parts of it have crumbled away entirely."

You nod in agreement, stepping forward. "We’ve been doing our best to maintain it, but without your presence, it’s been difficult."

Morpheus looks around, his expression hardening as he takes in the desolation. He reaches out a hand and brushes his fingers against a nearby fragment of stone, and you see a flicker of energy pulse through him. The stone vibrates slightly, as if responding to his touch.

"It will require time to mend," he mutters, mostly to himself. Then he faces you and Lucienne. "But we will reconstruct." Although he directs his words to Lucienne, his eyes focus on you, filled with hostility. You feel unwelcome.

Date Published: 7/10/24

Last Edit: 7/10/24

Masterlist | Next

[diorcities]

bunny

previous. part one .next.

pairing: park jisung x afab!reader genre: smut, dark academia. content: virginity, corruption kink, hand job, oral fixation, nipple play, female masturbation. wc: 2k.

description: this academy is full of secrets, as much as it is full of bunnies. hairy and docile ones, and harmful and evil as well. you've never been able to belong to their little group of worship for jisung. they don't know. they simply don't know, that you would do anything for him. whatever it is he desires.

the sun passing between the branches of the willow tree where your body lay made funny figures on your skin. the temperature was ideal to lie down in the garden of the academy between classes, being customary for students to eat or study. you preferred to sleep.

you read for a while one of those boring books that made you sleepy, and when it was the perfect moment, you fell into the arms of morpheus, like a rock. for that reason, you missed the second class that afternoon.

you got up lazily resting your back on the base of the trunk, moving the open book away from your face. your gaze wandered around the enclosure; made up of victorian structures and ruins. the academy was thirty minutes from the next civilization, surrounded by lush forests and mountainous landscapes. in spring, squirrels and rabbits wandered through the green areas, and the trees showed their greenest leaves. in winter, the panorama consisted of temperatures close to negative degrees, trees with bony branches and meters and meters of snow.

you didn't like spring very much, and obviously, winter neither. you used to think that the middle of the two seasons was the best, after summer vacation, fall was by far the best season.

after pondering for what you thought were hours, you decided to face what was surely going to be a comeuppance. however, you were willing, more than willing, waiting. as you headed to the room for your next class, you didn't notice that your uniform had gotten mud on it from lying on the grass.

bunny noticed. with her delicate hands, she covers her mouth while she laughs without much disguise. “look who we have here." her entourage was supporting. “yn” other bunny mentions, disgusted. unintentionally, and because you really didn't feel like avoiding them, you let them surround you. “ugh, is that... mud?” bunny covered her nose under your piercing gaze. if it affected her, she showed no signs of it. bunny clicks her tongue, “did you fall down a rabbit hole?” she asks herself, “or maybe, you're used to being on the ground.” her hands travel to your chest, pushing hard. her entourage opens like a door and reveals the floor. you fall with a crash, causing laughter from the bunnies, who, one by one, file off. their laughter stretches down the desolate corridor until they're lost. with parsimony, you manage to compose yourself and go to your next class.

twilight looms on the horizon as you enter the tunnel connecting the tower to the central building, the shadows lengthen and shrink as you proceed through the endless corridor. cold hits your body, hearing only the sound of your shoes on the stone floor, expanding into echoes.

your footsteps stop abruptly, and your muscles tense under your skin, as your eyes study the small, static figure a few feet from you. pearly fur shimmering in the moonlight. with floppy ears like small braids and eyes as black as abysses, they observe you while their nose moves, sniffing.

it lets you hold it when you pick it up off the ground. the fur is even softer than you thought. its frail and petite figure. heart under its ribcage pounding under your hand, placed on the area. “we had a dissection class the other day,” you narrate, reversing your steps. “we stuff bunnies.” your footsteps replace the stone floor with dirt and grass as you walk away from the tunnel and into the forest. your nose approaches the fur, inhaling gently. “what a beautiful fur,” you murmur in a high-pitched voice. your lips leave a small kiss on the rodent before depositing it on the ground. “now go away, little friend,” you say, waving your hand, but the rabbit remains where you left it. “boo!,” you exclaim, then. and that's when the rabbit leaves.

your heels turn to return to the shelter of the tunnel when your eyes catch a shadow looming over you. the feeble light from the street lamps in the courtyard barely illuminates his face; outlines his figure with a halo of orange light. “did i scare you?,” he wants to know. you shake your head. you can feel him smile even when darkness engulfs him. “we're late for class,” he announces, looking at the sunset, yet your eyes remain on him. “i need to clean my skirt,” you mumble in a low voice. his smile widens. “need help?”.

you feel him lurking behind your back, at a prudent distance. walking through the dark tunnel, only listening to the sound of his footsteps in time with yours. in a corner, you walk up the stairs to the second floor, feeling your skirt rise slightly. jisung laughs lightly but doesn't say anything else. he follows you to the bathrooms, closing the door behind him. seeing him study you through the mirror, his gaze fixed on the dark stain on your skirt. your hands go to the waistband of the fabric, lowering it to your ankles, as you stay only in your underwear.

you feel the warmth of his body as he approaches, his arm encircling your body to the front, the sudden proximity making you catch your breath. his warm breath hitting your ear.

his hands brush yours as he takes the fabric from your grasp, and without saying anything, he walks away to the sink. you watch him rolls his shirt up a few inches, exposing his forearms. his veins bulge as he turns on the faucet and begins to wash the mud off. “how did you get mud on your skirt, anyway?” he asks, breaking the silence. “from the garden,” you reply.

jisung hums, turning off the faucet when his chore is done. his body leans against the sink, holding out his skirt to you, waiting for you to take it. your body instantly approaches him, under a spell. he watches you intently as you dress, his eyes shifting between your breasts and your face; it's impossible not to look back at him. “thank you,” you say. “no problem.” his lips stretch into a lazy smile. “you… do you need help with something?” you see him deny “nothing that requires your help, kitten.”

he stands up from the sink, towering over you. you have to look up to meet his eyes again. “tell me what it is,” you demand to know, cutting him off. “why?” he asks. “i want to help,” you reply, “i want to help you.” where did this wish come from? you couldn't know it, but it burned your chest. just thinking about letting him go made your body writhe in sharp pain. you wanted to help him, you wanted to please him. there was nothing in this world you wanted more than to make him happy.

“what are you willing to do to help me?”

“anything.”

when he smiles, the burning in your chest turns into a warm feeling. his hand comes up to your face, cupping your cheek. slides down to your jaw and rests there as his thumb rests on your lower lip. “open up,” he asks. your lips part to let him in, his finger resting on your flat tongue, before curling it around. instinctively, you begin to suck on his finger. teeth scraping lightly, tongue wrapping and moving. “pretty,” jisung whispers before a throat clearing attacks him. his pink lips part slightly in concentration, his gaze darkening at the sight of your mouth taking his thumb so well.

your hands go to his chest, moving up and down with difficulty, before sliding down. they rest gently on his abdomen. “do you really want to help me?” he asks again, and you nod multiple times. yes, yes, yes, as you resume your way to his crotch. a hard bulge under your warm palm. your thumb strokes the prominent surface, catching his muscles tense. his body falls back into the sink, your body overlapping his as your palm presses over his erection. your tongue takes care in the movements it makes on his finger, while you give it a few strokes on his length. your fingers going to the zipper of his navy blue pants. “do you want to touch it?” he wants to know, and you nod again.

his thumb is withdrawn from your mouth, and you miss him immediately. you unbutton his pants and pull them down, just enough to see his underwear. your fingers go to the waistband, lowering the fabric, and freeing his cock, long and veined. tip is flushed. a small spasm attacks it, and it seems to you the most beautiful thing in the world.

your hand wraps around him, feeling hard and heavy. his soft skin stretches as you begin to pat him. jisung lets out a low breath. your eyes stray from the length of his to see his pretty face twitch. frown and parted lips. you move your hand up and down, while the other finds its way to the base, palm down.

his hands go up your body, unbuttoning your shirt and revealing your bra. it's old-fashioned and without a cup, which reveals your bristling nipples. jisung brushes his thumb around one of them. an electric current expands from the place where he touches you. you let out a hoarse moan as his fingers squeeze the sensitive area. back arches unintentionally. your hand begins to move faster on his cock. a growl attacks him, burying his face in the valley of your breasts.

you feel his dick pulsing under your hand, warm and soft. you milk it, curling your fingers at the tip, making movements from top to bottom while giving small touches with your thumb. jisung stirs under your touch, in a labored gasp. a few more stabbed thrusts were enough for him to spill his warm semen in your hand. hot and thick. your mouth begins to salivate at the sight of the pearl liquid pouring out of its pink tip.

“you want a taste?” he asks when he sees the place where your gaze is fixed. bringing his index finger into the liquid after you nod, moves it closer to your already open lips to receive his seed. you savor the sweet taste of him, cleaning his finger with your tongue. “turn around,” he orders, giving you no time to react and moving you himself. positioning behind you, both facing the mirror.

his hand goes around you to wipe away the remaining cum that remains on your hand, and when he's done, his hand slides down your belly and out of the mirror reflection, under your skirt and resting on the waistband of your clothes inside. “did you get wet, kitten?” he asks as he feels your breathing ragged as his fingers finally insert themselves under the fabric and brush against your pussy. “just a few strokes on my cock and you're already dripping?”.

his fingers slide through your folds and through your silky arousal. your face twitches as he finds your clit and starts moving his fingers in circles. your mouth opens to let out small, low moans, while your hips move to the beat of his fingers, wanting more friction. his body presses against yours, holding you against the sink and his chest. his movements become deeper and more agile as he massages your clit. your walls clinging and clenching to nothing, legs tightening around his hand. your wishes finally being heard by jisung, lowering his fingers between your folds towards your entrance. his fingers dig into your cunt, and a whiplash of sharp pain accompanies them.

jisung removes his fingers quickly, causing a plaintive gasp to escape your lips. his strong grip turns you on your axis, now facing him. “are you virgin?” it takes you a few seconds to string together what he says. jisung teases you, “answer me.” you bite the inside of your cheeks and nod.

jisung clicks his tongue, disapprovingly. you watch him lose himself in his thoughts, sinking deeper into worry the moment he realize something you totally miss. a few seconds later, he shakes his head and looks at you. “i'm so sorry,” he says, looking embarrassed, “but i'm afraid we have to stop.”

“but-,”

“no.”

“please,” you beg. “jisung, please.” your hands make fists in his white shirt. his hands grab your wrists, but he doesn't pull them away. “god, do you want me to fuck you so much?” he questions, raising his eyebrows expectantly. you soak your lips under his gaze. yes. you wanted him to destroy you completely, to use your body at his whim just like now, to take you so hard you could barely walk the next day. you crave, fervently to see his naked body covered in sweat while he fucks you or one of his bunnies, you don't care. but instead of telling him that, you just nod, hoping he can see between the lines. however, jisung puts pressure on your wrists. “say it.”

“yes, jisung.”

he smiles, before leaning over you and bringing his mouth closer to your ear.

“you'll have to do something for me first, then.”

[darkdarkstucky]

Enchanted, S. Rogers and C. Kent.

SUMMARY: In a world where Omega's were scant and decent alpha's even more so, you think you're one in a million to be in a relationship with Alpha's who not only take care of your every whims and need, but also love and respect you unconditionally. However, your marital bliss of two years is interrupted by the concept of ‘true mates’.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Clark kent.

Warnings: Cursing, Angst.

CHAPTER THREE

“Wake up, buttercup!” Natasha cheerily exclaims, clapping her hands together after successfully pulling back the curtains to let the sunshine in your desolate quarters. You groaned sleepily turning your head towards the other direction, until she peeled the covers back from you.

“Uh-uh, we are not letting you sleep in the bed for days on end again.” the red head tuts, pulling your limp arm and ushering you towards a seating position. “Today, we're going out and walking on sunshine vampy.”

“No. Let me wallow in doubt and sadness.” you whine, eyes shut. You were still in dreamland, nestled in the covers with the ac on full blast— and you could literally spend days in the bed it feels like. You were always so sleepy and tired.

Part of you blamed it on over-thinking. Your brain must have been fueling up for all of your racing thoughts. Or it was only during sleep that you weren't thinking anything.

“Can't. The sun is up and the day is to be conquered. Where's your fucking spirit?”

“Oh wait! I remember where i left it, let me check.” you wiggled, making her hold loosen before you dived back into the sheets.

Comfy. So so nice.. you rub your face in Clark's pillow, sighing out in bliss. Just as you were about to doze off again..

“Nat!” you bellow, feeling yourself get lifted off the bed and towards the en suite.

“We're going out and fucking things up dollface! No excuses!”

☁️

“I feel like richard gere and you're my bitch- well, technically not one, but you get my point.” Nat nonchalantly puts down the menu, staring at you from across the table.

There was an astounding array of shopping bags placed neatly along the floor, both of you going haywire on different shops and swiping daddy's plastics, and only when you calmed down did you realize how much clothes you bought.

You'd feel bad, yet both Steve and Clark had gaslighted you early on that it isn't real money princess. So you went on your merry way each time and thought as if you were only playing pretend.

“Why can't i be a bitch?” you mutter, inbetween bites of garlic bread, basically inhaling the small tray of decadent pastry. It was crunchy, and soft on the inside with hints of melted cheese. Ohmy, you wanted to gobble it up.

Nat looked at you as if you were stupid. “Because.. you're rainbows, and butterflies and shiny shimmering glitter.”

You made a face, “You're saying i'm made of nice things? Aww, naty.”

“Yes, and if i put you in my mouth, you'll melt like a cotton candy.” she flippantly voices, which made both of you stare at eachother— silent and intent gazes, before bursting into laughter. Giggling at the unknown double entrede.

“Hello, madamme.” Your head snaps towards a slightly familiar older man decked in a pristine suit, an easy yet flattering grin on his face. “How are you finding your lunch? Has anyone taken your order yet?”

“Oh, hey ben. It's pleasant, as it always is. We've actually just placed our orders,” You smile in response.

“Oh that's great! and you're here with Mrs. Barnes, i see.” He politely nods to the red head. “Will you be joining Mr. Kent at the second floor? He's got an entourage, but i doubt it's concerning business. It appears to be more casual.”

“Is that so? I mean, Clark did say something about a lunch. Who's he with?” Your mouth moves faster than you could think.

In reality, the only thing you've recieved from both of them were casual goodmornings and update as to where they were. Steve was in France, Clark said he was in Russia. Atleast, that was what they told you.

“The usual, madamme. A couple of security details, and a new secretary. She seems to be new, atleast from who Mr. Kent usually keeps in his payroll.” The host narrates, thinking nothing of it. Everyone was already well aware of how much you meant to your husbands— to the point where nobody would bat an eye if they were seen out with another woman. Nobody could possibly believe they would replace you.

And you hated to jump into conclusions, but why would he need to lie?

Your heart wanted to lurch out of your chest. Nat's clearing of her throat made you snap out of your spiral; and you schooled your features back into a cheery expression once again.

“Well, if Mr. Kent wouldn't mind our presence.”

☁️

“.. I was actually a scholar of Kent foundation. Can you believe it? Our fates, so intertwined. It was really as if we were meant to be.” Lois gushes, leaning over in her chair, looking at him as if she were about to jump his bones.

Frankly, it made him quite uncomfortable. Nothing about this - if you could even call it a date, it was more like a formal gathering or a meet of sorts that he was inclined to arrange- felt natural, nor right.

Clark wanted to rely on his base instincts for direction but he couldn't grope for a shred of connection. Not even a silver of fondness, which is strange, considering thag they were supposed to be compatible— the person oppsite of him bore the genetic compatibility, as per several tests.

Though, what she said piqued his interest. “Which part of town would you say?”

“Upper east side,” Lois responds. Clark shifted in his seat, a smile making it's way to his features which held a considerable sway in her judgement. He asks a few more questions in that honeyed voice of his, to which she absently replied at.

“Huh, would you look at that.” He leans back in his seat, gears in his head turning but he maintained an easy smile on his face, mirth dancing in the darkened blue of his eyes.

“How about i permanently move your residence in, say, one of my towers?” Lois' breath hitched at the proposal.

“I-i mean, sure if that's what you want.” she gathered herself for a while, before remembering to act bashful and blinking up at him rapidly, smiling coyly. “I'm yours afterall. Your mate.”

You can hear the jeers and the laughter, staying through the conversation, until you found yourself feeling literal pangs of hurt in your chest. Fuck. What does all of this mean?

“Let me kill this son of a whore,” Nat was about to angrily storm inside, but you managed to stop her, putting an arm out.

“Don't even bother.” you murmur, finding it hard to find your own voice. At that point, you felt almost numb— as if your brain was shutting down from what you've heard, finding it difficult to process at all.

You woke up with the hope of your marriage still intact. Thinking, rather stupidly, that this was just a rather difficult hurdle in your marriage. Thinking that perhaps, this was all just a big misunderstanding like what you were repeatedly assured of.

But this was beyond even your wildest dreams. Nothing made sense. It was as if your world was crashing down on you all at once. True mates? It mocks you repeatedly.

Steve and Clark told you that you were the one. You believed them, because why would they lie to you? They had no reason to!

To get in your pants, silly. The rational, or was it pessimistic part of you said.

You blinked away the tears, turning around, and indulging in the manical urge that clouded all your rationality— run.

So you fled.

[tartigglez]

"do this again...?"

zhongli x gn!reader

・❥・fluff fluff!

・❥・1.5k

・❥・helloooo i'm suffering an ungodly writers block rn so im really sorry if this is a MESS, i really don't mean for it to be sigh.. also inspired by that art where zhongli is fangirling over baizhus hair and going "so soft!" and then starts scrubbing his own head with a bar of soap (i can't find the link but if someone finds it lmk)

・❥・momentary dragon zhong!! modern au, readers a bit cuddly at the start lol, might not be suitable for all readers bc reader is a haircare nerd!! reader swears (this is a general warning for all my fics atp), i think thats it?? lmk??

zhongli was always put together, well presented, clean shaven, and always smelled of mahogany and vanilla, in fact, these were some of his most admirable traits. however, there was one thing that always puzzled you a little. 

when he was in his dragon form, zhonglis hair was always soft and silky, and looked perfectly healthy. but of course, nowadays it is rare for him to be in this form, and so he usually stays in mortal form for long periods of time in order to blend in with the general population of liyue. when in this form however, zhonglis hair is brittle and dry, seemingly with little to no explanation as to why. 

“zhongli,” you whisper against the fabric of a hoodie you insisted he buy (which he rejected initially. if it were up to him you would both be dressed in formal attire at almost all times of the day) “what’s up with your hair?”

“whatever do you mean?” he asks, large palm slowly rubbing the small of your back. he tilts his chin down to look at you as you rest your eyes, laying on his chest and fiddling with the ends of his ponytail.

“don’t you think its a little frizzy?” you ponder, moving your hand from his hair to instead grip on to his hoodie, fingers interlacing with the soft fabric as you sit up a little to meet his eyes. he would never admit to it, but watching you grip on to his clothing, looking all cozy was making the article grow on him, plus he knew you were a little sleepy, given you had gotten home and immediately insisted he cuddle with you. 

“is that supposed to be an insult?” he laughs, moving to a straighter sitting position, and allowing you to adjust by placing your legs either side of his, stretching them out behind him and tucking your head in to the gap between his shoulder and neck. 

“m’no, just an observation” you mumble against him. "it's always so healthy n-" you yawn mid-sentence, heaving your arms up around his neck, playing with the few stray hairs that sit at the back of his neck. "it's always helfy when y'do the thing… with the horns and the tail- n'stuff" you smack your lips a little every few words, eyelashes fluttering against the small portion of his collarbone which is exposed from under his hoodie. 

"you're tired dear, you should sleep" he says gently, palms still rubbing up and down your back. 

"buh if I sleep you'll-" you yawn again, unsurprisingly "you'll go n'do work or somethin'" 

"who told you that, hm? I've done all my work for the day. I'm more than content to lay here with you," he whispers "besides, I'm intrigued to hear more of your sleepy opinions on my appearance"

“don’t have any opinions, only facts,” you giggle, placing a soft kiss on his skin before putting your cheek down against it, closing your eyes. “trust, i’ll get to the bottom of this t’morrow” you smile and yawn another time.  

“fine, although i don’t think there's any problem with my haircare methods. rest well dear” he says, hands stilling on your back as the room falls to a desolate silence, only the sound of his breathing lulling you to rest. 

brightness is normally a positive thing, but not when it's hitting your eyes so early in the morning, and the bed is so empty. shouldn’t zhongli be here? you yawn, opening your eyes a little more to see the whole room, and no zhongli in sight. however, your ears quickly hear it, quiet liyuean opera music coming from somewhere downstairs. he has already started his day. 

you slowly, but surely make your way downstairs, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hands. you stumble upon zhongli in the living room, a computer on the coffee table in front of him, shirt sleeves rolled up and the muscles of his arms flexing as he types furiously, a puzzled expression lacing his features. 

“you’re awake, darling. did you sleep okay?” he asks, eyes parting with the laptop to meet yours.

“like a baby” you giggle as you take small steps over to him, tiredly flopping on the couch beside him, hugging one of his arms and looking up at him. “whatcha lookin at?” you ask, closing your eyes and taking in his scent, and the environment around you, the twang of the guzheng and soft air of flutes coming through the speaker in the corner of the room, and the feeling of his arm moving slowly from your grip, instead snaking its way around your shoulders 

“haircare methods,” he sighs, “i think i’ve realised the error of my ways”

“and that is…?” you raise an eyebrow at him, and he ultimately just looks embarrassed, cheeks flaring a slight shade of pink. 

“well, it would seem that the soap i use is rather abrasive” he sighs, leaning back in the chair and opening up a tab on his browser to reveal a branded bar of soap. soap. not shampoo, not conditioner, but soap. 

“soap?!” you ask, face contorting as if you had just had the shock of a lifetime. he nods sheepishly as you stare at him, moving up from your seat to get on your feet, grabbing his hands to drag him with you. 

“come”

“where are we going?” he asks, smiling a little as if to be doting upon your sudden investment in his hair.

“bathroom” you say, dragging him up the stairs, feet thumping as you march up the stairs. 

“what are we doing?” he inquires, following you into the bathroom, chuckling at you.

"reciting an extensive apology to your fucking hair follicles" you stare at him, face dead serious. your entire body is turned in the other direction, pulling out a wicker basket full of all your haircare products. 

"language" he reprimands, folding his arms and taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub.

"fuck fuck, shit fuck" you giggle, trying your hardest to invoke a reaction as you pull out different conditioning products from the basket. he just sighs. if it's you, such profanities can be excused in private, he supposes.

"don't be rude" he says, but he's secretly holding a laugh, watching you pull out some sort of deep conditioning pack, then squishing the liquid around in the packet.

"i'll be rude if i so wish" you taunt, sticking your tongue out before bursting out in laughter. "okay, sit on the floor" you say, setting the conditioning pack on the edge of the bath.

"excuse me?" he questions, standing up beside you, suddenly seeming a little taller than you remember. 

"you heard me, head over the edge of the tub, chop chop" 

"what on earth…?" he questions, kneeling with his head hanging fair over the bathtub.

"trust the process" you say, grabbing a towel from the rail on the other side of the room, putting it over his shoulders. you gently pull his hair tie out, watching the brown locks fall on to the towel.

"is this necessary?" he whines, tensing up a little when you move his hair off the towel, so that it went straight down in to the tub. 

"yes," you answer flatly, "now close your eyes" you say turning on the shower head. 

"why?" he asks, jumping a little in shock when you run the water over his head.

"too hot?" you ask, soaking his hair from scalp to tip. he shakes his head, and he's audibly breathing a little louder when the water runs down his cheeks. immediately after he feels you dump some sort of thick substance on his head. 

"what on earth is that?" he asks, watching your hands reach to rub the mask down through his hair. 

"conditioning mask" you answer, rinsing your hands under the tap, washing off the excess. “stay here” you instruct. 

“my love, where are you going?” zhongli sighs, but you’ve already ran to the bedroom, grabbing a t-shirt to wrap around his hair.

“okay, lift your head up” you smile, and he awkwardly complies, trying his very best not to get water everywhere as you get his hair together to go inside the tee. he stands on his feet once again, before sitting on the toilet seat, legs awkwardly jutting out in to the room as you clean up any spilled water.

after you finish wiping around the edge of the bath, you look up at him from where you are, and a fountain of giggles spills over somewhere within you. you simply cannot stop laughing at him, meanwhile zhongli is staring at you like a wet dog. frowning, he meets your eyes.

“do we have to do this again?” 

sfw masterlist || taglist: @lioria @celestetalkstoomuch

© tartigglez, 2023. do not copy, translate or repost, reblogs appreciated

[eiightysixbaby]

you can run but only so far

jonathan byers x reader

1.6k

18+ only — brief descriptions of piv sex, angst

just something short based on tis the damn season by tswift. jonathan is so evermore coded to me i couldn’t get it out of my head. barely proofread sorry in advance lol

The week between Christmas and New Year’s is always weird. So much preparation and anticipation for the first holiday, only for it to be ripped away like wrapping paper in the blink of an eye. There’s still lingering remnants of the presents and the baked goods and the decorations, but they leave you feeling sour.

Being back in your hometown means sleeping in a bed that no longer feels like your own, staying in a house that feels more like a hotel than your childhood home. You have the streets mapped out in your head, yet you don’t frequent them anymore. You feel like a stranger in a place you once fully belonged, like you’re just something that stands out rather than fits in. Thankfully, there were still a few people left who could make this place feel like home.

Your bare body is pressed into the seat in the back of Jonathan’s car where it’s parked in the empty lot of the high school; the only place you could get some privacy. Your eyes glance out the window over his shoulder to see precipitation that isn’t quite rain but isn’t quite snow, either. The slushy, sloppy mixture hurtles to the ground, soaking the greyed landscape. The man’s eager mouth swallows your sighs, fingers sinking in to the meat of your hips.

“Feel so good, babe,” he praises, his nose smushed into your cheek. The pet name makes your heart flutter, though it’s fleeting.

Something in you aches. You’re sure he feels it, too.

Jonathan had been the hardest person to leave behind when you left your hometown. You’d ended what could’ve been the greatest relationship of your life, to chase your own dreams in a place that wasn’t Hawkins. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to cozy up to him while you were home, but he made it impossible to stay away.

The holidays made you want to be in love, made you crave a companion, and maybe all the mistletoe and holly blurred the edges of your logic and his.

Because you’d been seeing each other for the last few days, kissing and holding hands like all was normal. Like you weren’t going to leave again, like he wasn’t going to watch you go. As your time in this town grew closer to an end for the season, a bittersweet concoction of emotions flooded you.

“Hey…” he murmurs softly, catching your chin with his index finger. “You okay?” His movements have paused, his chest and yours rising and falling in gentle unison.

You nod, brushing away the cloudy thoughts. “Yeah. I’m great,” you say, pressing a kiss to the very corner of his mouth.

He smiles in response, and your heart skips a beat. If only it could be like this forever.

The next evening, as the sun sinks low on the horizon and a cold, desolate darkness engulfs the town, your hand is clutched tightly in Jonathan’s as he pulls you into Benny’s diner. The smell of fried food and chocolate malts kisses the tip of your nose as you both sink into a quiet booth in the very corner of the space.

He drums his fingers on the greasy tabletop, probably keeping tune with the song playing over the stereo. You’d know for sure if you could pay enough attention to listen to it. Your focus is on the way the crappy lighting floods his features, the ways in which his face has matured since you’d seen him last. It makes you sad to think that you would’ve been watching him change every day had you never left.

But you had to leave. And you’ll have to leave, again, tomorrow.

He orders a coffee, because of course he does. Practically running on it like he always has. His perpetually sleepy eyes crease as he smiles across the table at you, knowing you’re internally teasing him for getting caffeine so late in the day. It’s funny, how you don’t forget his little quirks. Tiny facts about him that haven’t been relevant to you in some time, but that still linger tucked away in the filing cabinet of your brain. You want to write all of it down, so they never slip away from you.

You wonder if he remembers the same sorts of little things about you. When your burgers are served, and he requests honey mustard on the side for your fries, it’s clear that he does. He hates honey mustard, but you don’t.

You shrug your big, soft, plaid coat off, the heat in the diner working overtime tonight to keep you warm. Taking a bite into the burger, it tastes like high school and adolescence and late nights and stupid choices. The flavor is nostalgic, bringing back a slew of memories. You wipe away a stray blob of ketchup that lingers beneath your lip with your thumb, painting your white napkin red with it.

“I wish you could stay,” Jonathan blurts, looking remorseful almost as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“Jonathan…” you sigh, setting your food back on your plate.

“We’ve had such a good time this week, doesn’t it feel right like this? Just hear me out,” he urges.

“Jon, please,” you try again, fiercely trying to ward off any tears that spring into your eyes. “You know I have to go.”

You have your reasons for leaving. He has his reasons for staying. This just can’t work.

He goes silent, sipping from the steaming mug in his hands. There’s a chip in the table that becomes increasingly interesting to you, your eyes downcast at it as your finger slides over the jagged edge.

“I know,” he says finally. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, but it doesn’t feel okay. You aren’t mad at him for what he said, but it just leaves a lump in your throat.

The rest of your meal is eaten mostly in silence, darkness having completely taken over outside. It snows just a little bit, tiny flakes that you’d miss if it weren’t for the halo around the street light letting them show.

“You wanna come back to my place? My mom and Will are gone,” he offers, leaving extra cash on the table for a tip and standing.

You nod, half here, half somewhere else. The weight of your departure tomorrow makes your shoulders sag, but you put on a brave face so as not to ruin the last of the time you have with him. He knows your smile is fake, of course he does. Reading you like an open book, devouring every single word. Your novel is one he reads over and over again, hoping each time that the ending will be different.

He knows it won’t be. Not this time. But he can allow himself to keep pretending, for tonight at least.

He keeps one hand locked in yours as he drives the near empty streets back to his home, his thumb rubbing over your fingers. His tires slosh through the muddy mess that’s formed in potholes, splattering the lingering remnants of snow from the Christmas storm.

The world looks so lifeless, so dull. The pretty piles of white fluff half-melted, the trees bare. It makes you depressed. Jonathan keeps a spark of happiness ignited inside of you, but even that will soon be blown out.

The Byers home is decorated with big, colorful lights. A tree with lots of tinsel sits in the corner of the living room. There’s Christmas themed crafts that must have been made by the boys as children, Joyce was ever the sentimental mother. It’s cozy, and it’s warm, and it feels safe. Jonathan is kissing you the second you’ve hung your coat up, his hands cradling the back of your head, fingers entwined in your hair. He smells like coffee and the musky scent of his cologne, the same one he’s worn for years.

You’re walking him backwards, maneuvering yourselves carefully into his bedroom before pushing him down onto his bed. He’s undoing his belt with haste, your turtleneck sweater is being pulled over your head. Garments are tossed to the floor until both of you are bare, and as you go to straddle him he’s meeting you halfway, partially sitting up to kiss you. His hands roam your body as you slip him inside of you, wasting no time.

Despite your hurry to start, the sex isn’t rushed at all. His hands guide your movements, letting you slowly move up and down on his cock. Even though you’re alone, his moans still come out hushed, as do yours. It’s quiet, still, saccharine.

You let him finish inside of you, after you came first of course, his chest rising and falling with his staggered breaths. It’s an act so intimate, reserved for someone special.

He is special.

He pulls you onto his chest once you’re finished, rubbing your back with soothing hands. Covering your body with a blanket, he kisses your head. You try to fight sleep for as long as you can, because once you go to sleep the sooner you’ll wake up. With tomorrow morning’s light comes your cue to leave.

It comes regardless, your eyes blinking into the pale light of his room. His body is comforting beside you, the blanket rising and falling with his quiet breathing. You realize that his bed feels warmer than any you’d slept in before, certainly warmer than yours where you sleep alone. It messes with your head, lulling you into a false sense of stability. You can’t linger, can’t stay.

Quietly, so as not to disturb him, you slip on your clothes from the night before. You sit back down on the mattress, pressing a kiss to his head. Your hand gently brushes hair from his eyes, resting on his cheek for a moment before you finally pull it away.

Your own heart shatters for him, all over again as you don your coat once more and step out into the cold weather. It’s not a far walk for you, you’d rather be alone than have him drive you. Than have to say goodbye.

He knew this was coming all along, as did you. You could never stay. And so once again, you leave. The smell of your perfume lingers on his pillow, and it’s all he has left of you when he wakes.

[bluecoolr]

For Life or Until Fault

Alt Timeline 2.0 - Odile x Darrell Part 8

Odile belongs to @solmints-messyocdiary Darrell is mine 🩷

Their days went on that way. Odile would tidy up the house, Darrell would cook. They slept intertwined by the fire. When he went away for work, she would mend his clothes. Sometimes, she would try her luck in finding flowers. Sometimes, she would even join him on his rounds, and they would stroll arm in arm, pretending the graveyard was a park; forgetting the roles they were supposed to play.

They spent Darrell's off days together, learning about each other, careful not to prod where things were too delicate. Neither of their pasts were brought up in conversation. For lack of memory on Darrell's part and a lack of willingness on Odile's.

They were content with what they had.

Afternoons rang with passages from their favorite books, which they read aloud to each other. The stories sweet and dark like molasses. Odile rediscovered her love for music, which she listened to on Darrell's Walkman, her head resting in his lap. She sang him to sleep at times. Her arms thrown about him, holding him to her heart.

When he found out that she liked to sew, Darrell set off on a trip to town. He bought her needles and thread in all colors and yards of fabric that a good seamstress could use to make five dresses. But Odile took the best threads and decided to embroider Darrell's jacket instead, ornamenting the cuffs with bright flowers - pink carnations in full bloom, saint-white stargazers.

It was Odile's way of asking, "Please, let me stay." And a prayer, "Please, don't let it end."

For as long as he didn't tell her to stop, she kept adding embroidery to his clothes: Tiny bunny rabbits with fluffy tails, flower wreaths, nesting birds, bounding deer. Her favorite, and biggest design so far, was the pair of swans on the back of his jacket.

"They mate for life," she told him once.

He loved her art. It made him feel cared for and claimed, like she had sewn pieces of herself for him to carry everywhere. He delighted in every stitch, every well-thought out scene. Even if Ilya claimed that the designs were too girlish, as he watched them grow more numerous and elaborate by the week.

Odile didn't remember the last time she had been to the town. The idea of going back hadn't even crossed her mind till now. It made her skin crawl.

Darrell had asked her if she wanted to go on a date. Her on a date with him! "Thought we'd do something nice… together," he'd said. The month's paycheck had arrived, and she could tell he was eager to get out of the graveyard, even if just for an afternoon. This was no way to live, among the dead.

He sensed her misgivings when she fell into a tight-lipped silence.

"What's the matter, princess?"

"Darrell darling, I… I don't think I could."

"Why, my love?"

"W-what if… they recognize me?"

After some quick thinking, Darrell remembered there was a small city a bus ride away. It was highly unlikely that they'd be recognized there, full of weary, disinterested people as it was. Before long, Odile was convinced, and she put on the muck boots that Darrell had found and given to her some time ago.

The walk to the bus stop was a long and desolate one. Not many passed by the cemetery. The road was unpaved - like most rural Moldovan roads - and led to nowhere, essentially. Perhaps, if you kept following it you'd end up in Ukraine, passing by the Carpathians. Sometimes, a lost cow would amble up from the wasteland, rattling her bell with every step.

"What are you thinking about, love?"

Darrell's arm was draped around Odile's midriff, keeping her close as she sat facing the window, her feet up on the seat. She watched the world speed past, her sleepy head resting on his chest.

She looked up at him with her eyes brimming with light and love. "How I'm so happy."

Overcome with admiration, he kissed the apple of her cheek. Nothing more than a chaste peck, but he kissed her again, right at the spot beside her lips.

The bus came to a halt just inside the city limits and Odile perked up at the sound of the doors unlocking. They got off on a pretty busy street. People passed by with their shopping tucked under their arms. Not a single one even glanced at Odile, and suddenly, the trip wasn't so scary anymore.

She laced her fingers with Darrell's, quite eager to explore the flea market with him.

Among sundry items - some new but grubby, others noticeably old - Darrell spotted a pair of nude pink ballet flats. He picked it up and called Odile, who was digging through a bin of wooly cardigans.

He showed her the shoes and offered to help her try it on. Some of the shoppers watched disdainfully as Darrell knelt to slip the shoes over Odile's feet, taking time to tie the ribbons in perfect bows. "Like them?" he asked. Odile nodded, her knuckles pressed to her lips.

Darrell bought the shoes along with a cardigan Odile had fished out. She was, however, more keen on wearing his jacket for the time being.

Eventually, they came upon a salesman with a tableful of silver and gold jewelry. "How about buying a ring for your girl, huh, mister?" He held out a bunch of bangles. "How about some bracelets?"

Darrell stooped to pick up a pair of lockets, each elliptical and about an inch and a half big.

"Those are really pretty, too," urged the salesman. "You and your girl can match. I'll give it to you for 200 lei."

Odile gathered her hair to the side as Darrell put the necklace on for her. “There." He stepped back. "You look beautiful."

Odile noticed he was cupping his hand by his face, apparently shielding his eyes against the light of the storefront window. She found it rather odd. The light wasn't too intense. She wouldn't even call it a light; more of a glow. It bathed the religious icons inside with a somberness you could almost touch.

At the very back of the display, there was a sinister, life-like crucified Christ. There was also a wild panic in Darrell’s eyes. Odile had seen that look many times before. She could feel the pulse on his wrist, pounding like a little fist demanding to be let out.

He was afraid.

Odile pulled him past the store and into an embrace. She could feel his frantic heartbeat against her breast. Thinking fast, she gently placed her lips on the tender junction of his neck and shoulder. Then, without warning, clamped her teeth onto his skin - not enough to draw blood, but enough to distract.

Darrell cried out, but she cut him off with a kiss. Her first full kiss.

She pulled away only when she felt Darrell’s heartbeat stutter to a slower cadence. He looked confused and shocked beyond belief. For a moment, she wondered if she had done the right thing.

When he turned to look over his shoulder, Odile pressed her hand to his cheek to urge him to meet her eyes. “Mm-mmm.” She shook her head.

“I’m… I’m here,” she assured him. “D-don’t be afraid… I’m here.”

Darrell’s lips drew into a tight smile, as if he was fighting back tears. He shut his eyes and pressed his cheek against her palm.

“Sorry, I… I don’t know what came over me,” he said softly.

He trailed off, realizing what had just happened, and blushed a deep shade of red. Odile was even redder, tracing her mouth with her forefinger, where Darrell’s plush lip had been moments ago. She grew even more frantic as Darrell closed the space between them and returned the kiss, urging her forward with a hand at her nape.

Everything seemed to melt away - the city, the crowded cobbled street. Odile felt like her stomach was doing cartwheels, and she began to laugh. As she pressed kisses on Darrell's neck, dangerously close to his jugular, she felt like she could eat the world raw.

[the-canary]

high ground [vash the stampede] .06.

Summary: Snippets of the little moments in between the chaos of traveling with one Humanoid Typhoon. [Vash/Reader]

prompt: diamond. 

A/N: Practice for the larger series I have in mind and practice on how to write Vash’s character, so this will be on the short end. a birthday gift from me to the readers! lol.  the next two chapters are going heavy on the mc's background and on her current/former relationship with vash.

When you had lived under another name in another lifetime from your present one, Achraf had told you that you had no heart. You lived too cruelly and only cared for yourself up to the last moment. Surely, he would be laughing or smiling at how piously you were living now. However, that past life left you with scars, both mentally and physically, that had not healed over the decades and that you continue to ignore -- that was until nights like this, when you are alone in a rented hotel room with your thoughts since the other four members of your party were sharing rooms this time around.

When everything in this desolate world could condemn you to death, you must find something to hold onto and believe in.

Achraf held steadfast to his beliefs and himself to the very end, but at the time you were nothing but a rage filled ball of anger and resentment. Now, in your older age, you had only begun to understand what he meant. It left you aching for the past and wandering the dark and nearly desolate hotel room in the middle of night until you ended up on the rooftop. The cold wind wrapped around you, stealing your body heat quickly but it really didn’t bother you.

I hope you do something good with this long life of yours, my hellion. I hope you find a heart and it hurts you just as it did me.

“Hey, hey ,” a voice breaks your reminiscing as you turns to see Vash in his sleeping clothes staring at you from the door you thought you had been just a few moments ago, only to realize that you were overlooking the roof to the outstretched view of the small town, “Are you okay?”

His pretty blue eyes are full of concern and you can’t help but wonder if Achraf would be disappointed or proud of you at that moment. It had taken you years, but you were slowly coming to understand everything he had ever spoken of -- about having beliefs and finding a heart.

“I’m fine, Vash,” you murmur while wrapping your arms around yourself, “It’s just one of those nights where I can’t sleep very well.”

You almost want to ask how he had picked up that you had left your room, but you knew Vash well enough that he probably had his guard up since entering the hotel regardless how friendly he had gotten with the owner and other guests in the dining hall a few hours before. He walked towards where you were sitting when he took note that you were not going to be leaving just cause he was there now. The rattling of your thoughts ends for a moment as you stare at him -- droopy hair and gray sweats and slippers, so unlike the red coat and spiky hair that everyone seems to have their own story and exaggeration on.

“So…what’s keeping you up?”

Blue eyes look at you, waiting for an answer but you wonder if he thinks he’ll actually get one. You have slowly been opening up to him more, but there was still a wall that he could not crossover. So many people had tried to break or climb over, but where others failed, like Achraf had, Vash had time to keep playing this game of cat and mouse with you and he was annoyingly persistent when he wanted to be. Maybe it is due to that that you decided to let him know or maybe it is because of the late hour and your sleepiness that you decide to give in just a little.

“I think it’s mostly regrets tonight,” you remark while moving closer to the blonde, as if seeking his warmth out, which gives him pause for moment before he follows suit, "I have lived far too long to regret the choices I have made in order to survive, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t try to suffocate me from time to time.”

You let out a small yawn, unaware of the blue eyes taking you with a mix of sadness and awe. It takes him a while to try to say something since he starts to feel your body bump into his.  

“You know I’m bad at explaining,” Vash laughs in self-deprecation, “..but, you can lean on me, ya know?”

It takes him a while to realize what had happened before shaking his head as to why you haven’t answered him with your usual clipped manner. He can’t help but let out a puff of air in defeat as he takes note that you had fallen asleep while he had been thinking of his answer. You’re leaning on to his metal arm as the rest of you is still placed on the other side of the roofing of the hotel. He is going to have to pick you up and carry you back to your room, a thought that makes him blush on the way back though he still can’t help but think back on your words as well and be at awe with you all over again.

You struggle and fall back to reflect on your actions once more. You are constantly changing and transforming -- a beautiful jewel that is endlessly dimming and shining and that he can’t help but keep looking at and falling in love with even more.

--And that thought causes him to pause in the middle of the hallway in mortification as he looks down to stare at your sleeping form in shock.

[tired-needs-sleep]

connor bringing out a baby pokemon at the showdown on the cruise ship will always be the death of me. even more so ava's reaction sksjsjdh

[rosemarysndthyme]

✞ The Summer of Ravenswood Manor: A Haunting Tale ✞

Honey Dreary moves the desolate town of Angels' Creek in the Midwest, desperately trying to escape her troubled past. Unexpectedly she becomes entranced by the mysterious and brooding owner of a rundown mansion on the edge of town, Ravenswood Manor. The two begin a tumultous romance as she begins to uncover the dark secrets of his past.

Character Moodboards here

Chapter 1: Milk, Honey, Harmony

Considering Jesus died almost two thousand years ago in sanction for our sins, seems he had failed. At least in Honey Dreary's eyes.

The trees in this dismal town seemed to howl and shriek, their brittle bare branches reaching out like bony fingers, waiting to pick and pluck every morsel of life from its residents. Often things would vanish. Cars were parked and never to be seen again. Small children would wander off from their parents, never to return.

Honey, in her cherry red 1967 Ford Mustang raced down the road, blazing a fiery red trail to a new beginning. With a Marlboro gold hanging from her opulent cherry lips, and the wind in her hair, it was enough to distract her from a possible grave mistake. No, she wouldn't let herself admit she'd made an impulsive decision, upping and leaving her old apartment in the city in the middle of the night. Not telling anyone where she was going or for how long and with no plans of a job. As her mother always said ‘every cloud has a silver lining’. She'd found an ad for an old chapel converted into apartments, using what little savings she had on the small deposit and gathering the rest for her first months rent. She decided the rest would work it’s self out. The apartment had a pretty little porch out front for her to sit out and read, smoke or play her vintage Billie Holiday vinyl. If nothing else, that would be this cloud’s silver lining. She was looking forward to an escape from her previous city life, one where she could do as she pleased without the torments of being a city girl in her 20s, or the ever-looming disapproval of her family.

Angels' Creek was a sleepy rundown Midwestern town. A place that was no one’s destination and not even somewhere you’d be passing through. It was surrounded by open fields of forest and farmland. Honey had chosen it for its lazy hazy atmosphere, now closing in on her late twenties , she decided a more tame lifestyle was due. There definitely wasn’t much in the way of modern amenities or entertainment. From what she could make out, the town had one singular main road that ran from one end of town, Angels’ Entrance, to the other, Ravenswood End. She lived at the far end, like a guilty child banished to a dark corner. The street was littered with tattered shops: Daisy's Diner, The Cloudy Laundrette, Pembrooke Supermarket, and somewhere called Ray's. All are in need of a good refurbishment, their lit up signs flickering and dying, as was the life from this town. There was a heavy sense of faded glory, with the town's best days behind it, the barren remnants sit gathering dust in the middle of a vast plain of deathly trees.

Honey's tyres screeched as she pulled up to her new apartment. Flicking what was left of her cigarette onto the pavement, she takes off her sunglasses and adjusts her windswept blonde hair in the rear-view mirror, as she leans over to the passenger seat to gather her bags before grounding her wedged heel onto the pavement. Her perpetual hazy cloud of cigarette smoke, amaretto perfume, and bad decisions, pervaded the air around her.

A sweaty outstretched palm startled her, 'Miss Dreary' a voice spoke before she'd hardly put her other foot down on the pavement. She shifted her gaze up drinking in the sight, brown trousers, starched shirt, round bald head with friendly overly enthusiastic blue eyes. ‘Mr Bluebell. I’m your new landlord.’ Honey grasped his hand, using it to hoist herself up from the drivers seat bringing her to eye level with her new landlord. ‘My gosh! What a beautiful car you have. Must be a 1974.’

‘It’s actually a '67.’

‘Yes. Of course. You’re correct. Anyway. Would you like me to show you inside? Your particular apartment is named ‘Garden of Eden’ …controversial these days. ’ Mr Bluebell turns around with Honey on his tail… she guesses he’ll offer to help with her bags after the tour. ‘I bought this property years ago now. It was a derelict church before I had the idea to convert it into quaint little apartments.' It was an insult to call it an 'apartment' really, she thought.

Mr Bluebell continues... 'The previous owners weren’t too fond of the idea, but they came around once they saw how much I was offering! You have the ground floor, it’s cosy with excellent bones, well lit in the mornings with east-facing windows.’ They pass the sweet white porch before entering the small living room with a kitchenette attached. ‘This is your living space, as you can see it comes with a sofa, and a TV cabinet.’ The ‘sofa’ he was referring to was more of an armchair, and the ‘TV cabinet’ was a single television plonked on the floor in front of said ‘sofa.’

He leads her down a narrow hallway. ‘Down here is your bedroom. And to the left is your bathroom.’ They come to a halt in front of a large window overlooking the street opposite. Mr Bluebell quickly snatches a glance out before snapping his head back into place. ‘I’ll leave you now to settle down and get comfortable,’ he huffs. The middle-aged man makes his way back to the front door, still rambling on. He comes to an abrupt stop. He leans uncomfortably close to Honey’s uninterested face. ‘I will say, be wear. Of the Manor on the hill. Strange things happen in Angles’ Creek. Just… be careful.’ His serious demise reverts back to his usual friendly cheerfulness. ‘Toodaloo! You can always find me at Ray’s,’ with no more than a wiggle of his chubby fingers he nearly vanished from Honey’s porch.

She wasn't even sure exactly which manor he was talking about. All she could see were brittle twigs for miles in the bleak distance. But. There was a murky grey space, what looked to be an opening in the whispering trees. If she squinted hard enough, yes, there was a tattered house in the distance. One that combined a lavish art deco style with 1950s Americana brilliance. There were holes in the brickwork that looked to be poorly boarded over with scraps of rotting wood. The old hanging porch lights, once a crystal shiny glass, now swung smashed from its socket. A gate of exquisite design once stood guarding the house and its glory is now ripped off its hinges lazily swinging and creaking with the wind's force.

Retrieving her suitcase and what little belongings she brought with her from her car, Honey begins to unpack. With interior design not being her strong suit, her judgement told her the framed Elvis photograph looked best on the already dusty glass shelf in the bathroom, ironically. Her American flag was pinned above her bed in all its failing glory. The small vintage trinkets she considered her prized possessions: a little bone China jewellery dish with hand-painted pink roses, a porcelain doll her grandmother gave her for her first birthday, and a wooden box of teeth she found in an antique shop. All neatly placed on her brown dressing table in front of the infamous east facing window. The cramped structure left no room for any kind of wardrobe, meaning her few items of clothing had to be hung off the end of the cream curtain pole, supporting the flimsy mesh lace curtains that provided a very minuscule amount of privacy. She supposed in a run down town like this, not enough goes on for her to need more modesty.

The crinkle of her cardboard cigarette carton simmered off the walls as she fished one out to light between her supple lips. That’s how quiet Angles’ Creek was. How drab, how dull, how dismal. Not even the sound of footsteps from passers by, nor a car engine. Only the howling wind. Honey wanted quiet, and that’s what she got. The urge to fill an unfamiliar void of anonymity had her unpacking her record player to put on ‘I Call My Baby Pussycat’ by The Funkadelic. Leaning back on her new bed, she’d stripped herself of her plaid miniskirt and wedged heels, left in only her soft white thong that read ‘rockstars only’ across the front and a white lace tank top. She decided to unwind with the one of the only ways she knew how. Slipping her fingers into the front of her knickers, thinking thoughts of James Dean in ‘Rebel Without a Cause’, and Marlon Brando sweaty in a wifebeater. Her brain and body was nothing but oozing chocolate pudding and sticky melted marshmallow- a tapping on her window drew her out of her dreamland and anchored her down into reality. She padded over to see where the sound was coming from, expecting it to be that annoying old man again, just to find it was nothing but a tree branch blowing in the wind. So dead and bony, making a sound akin to dry fingers tapping and scraping at glass. No one was there. Not a soul in sight.

The old manor atop the hill in the distance caught her attention once again. A yellowish light bulb now glowed through one of the second-floor windows, right at the top of the house, beneath the deteriorating roof. It was almost as if a deathly shadowy figure created a colossal silhouette. If she squinted, the figure had a pale face. One of a handsome gentlemen, younger than she would expect of a manor so old. Stood there in nothing but a lacy vest top, nipples hard and protruding, and her knickers. An ominous figure of broad stature remains staring back at her.

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

“This afternoon I will definitively revise my preface and I will send my mail, again late. Tomorrow is work time and I feel dry and apathetic. You are here, stirring. But apart from that it's the flat calm inside. I've been feeling too much lately. And this month, almost a month of inner loneliness, of deprivation, of exile, has not been without struggle. Today is the surprising heat of the day, I have an unbearable sleep in my whole being. Do not fear anything else. If I call to you, gently, inside me, the waves return. But this apathy is not unpleasant and I call only from afar, to check.

To sleep, ah! to be able to sleep until spring! Fortunately, the weather is fine. From my window, at this moment, I see a magnificent cypress, golden with sunshine, dripping with sunshine. And if I turn my eyes away, it's to dampen a little this impulse that the light gives me, and this slightly painful desire. You're playing right now.  Later on you'll be giving a literature. Then Dora again. And then.... That's where I'm waiting for you. I would like to be in the yellow room, watching the noise of the elevator, reading your fatigue on your face, first... darling, I'm afraid I'm not as sleepy as I thought I would be.

And outside of you, your absence, your letters, your image, I'm worthless. This long Sunday without you is exhausting. "The flower that so appealed to my desolate heart..." Ah! That I liked you, that I was happy near you, centuries ago. I love you, my darling, I love you, beautiful, furious, radiant, sometimes delivered, I love you and I kiss you with fury, to choke you, with all my soul, and with all my blood.”

Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, February 5, 1950 [#170]

[strangerficsxx]

Chapter One: The Vanishing of Will Byers

wc: 1.6k jennifer's best friend's younger brother goes missing as it shocks the small town of hawkins, indiana. While helping her younger brother search for will byers, she has to figure out her feelings for steve harrington all while keeping herself together.

[a/n: all characters, plot, etc. are not mine. The only thing I own is my original character. credit to gif owner. I know this gif is from season one, episode four: the body, but it was the only season on gif that'll fill the space instead of helf.]

{ November 6, 1983 -- Hawkins, Indiana }

Stepping out of the pool, Jennifer walks towards one of the benches and picks up her towel. She dries off enough so she doesn't track water to the locker room. Jennifer opens her locker and proceeds to take her swimsuit off, and dry off the rest of her body.

Jennifer slides her clothes on; a long sleeve cream colored sweater with light blue denim pants. Grabbing her backpack, she leaves the locker room then into the hallway before she runs into someone. Looking up, Jennifer sees a tall male with nice hair as he brushes it back, gazing in her eyes.

"Oh, sorry,"

"It's fine." He says. "You look familiar. Have we met?"

"I'm Jennifer, I'm on the girls swim team."

"That's it!"

"Steve?"

"Yeah."

"You're on the boys swim team, correct?"

He nods. "Yes, I am."

"We'll, I gotta go. I have to get home."

"O-Okay."

Jennifer quickly steps toward the entrance, exiting the school and walks home.

——

Stepping onto the pavement, she took a glance at the desolate neighborhood. An eerie chill ran up the brunettes spine, almost nervous. However, she tucked away the foreboding feeling and carrying on.

The neighborhood was big for being in such a small town in Hawkins, hearing children's excited shrieks coming from a park nearby. Jennifer walks down the street before walking up her driveway and towards the front door as Dustin notices.

"Hey,"

"Hey, Dustin."

"Where's mom?"

"Inside."

"Okay."

Dustin walks away, getting on his bike before riding away.

"Where are you going?"

"Going to Mike’s to play D&D. I'm late."

"Okay, well, be safe."

Dustin rides away as Jennifer watches him for a few seconds before heading inside. She greets her mom, Claudia, with a smile as she asks Jennifer about her day. Jennifer tells her mom that it was the usual, typical and boring day. However, the older female tells her daughter that she is glad Jennifer is home and safe.

Jennifer then exits the kitchen and heads toward her bedroom, looking around and seeing the decor laying around on the shelves and end tables.

There sits a small television box on top of the chest of drawers since there was nowhere else to put it. After putting her bag down and grabbing some clothes, Jennifer walks toward the bathroom to take a quick shower.

——

{ November 7, 1983 }

The next morning rolls around and Jennifer’s still fast asleep as her brother, Dustin, rushes into her room and basically pounces on Jennifer like a baby tiger.

"Come on, Dustin. Five more minutes, please?" Jennifer pleaded with a sleepy groan.

"Get up, Airhead. You have to go to school."

"Go away. I’m up, I’m up. Jesus."

Dustin gets up, leaving the room as Jennifer sits up. Turning slightly, Jennifer looks at the clock sitting atop the nightstand by her bed. She groans before uncovering, standing and stretching then walking toward her closet. Jennifer pulls out a cute but warm outfit and gets dressed, walking toward the bathroom and finishes getting ready.

Jennifer checks herself out in the mirror one last time before grabbing her bag and walking into the kitchen. Dustin is already gone as her mother is too. Eating a bowl of cereal quickly, Jennifer finishes as she puts it in the sink and walks away. Heading out, Jennifer grabs her bike from the garage and dusts it off.

She rides off quickly, remembering how to ride a bike. Once Jennifer arrives at Hawkins High School, she gets out and locks her bike up before walking in the building. Walking down the hallway, Jennifer gets stopped by her counselor and gets handed a note. Looking down, she sees it's from her swim coach, reading it as she treads lightly down the hallway. Not paying attention to where Jennifer is going, she bumps into someone, dropping her papers as she looks up at the male.

"Woah, sorry."

"Don't be, it's— uh, huh, I thought I was running into a freshman."

"No, I'm in the same grade as you. Remember, genius."

"Yeah, it just seemed like it due to you having your head down. I didn't recognize you."

Both Jennifer and Steve squat down to collect the papers she once had in her arms. They reach for the folded piece of paper, but their hands brush together. A fluttle begins in her chest, butterflies forming in her stomach. Steve grabs the folded note and catches a glimpse of what the paper says.

"Woah, the swim meet got canceled for the day? Why is that?"

"I don't know. I wonder what's happening. Surely, the would be announced it, right?"

“Maybe, but who knows at this point.”

He stands, handing Jennifer the rest of the papers before walking away and towards Tommy and Carol. She moves on, heading towards her locker to grab her things. While Steve stands there, he watches Jennifer go by, staring at her hair, body and ass then towards his friends.

"I think Stevie has a little crush,"

"I don't, OK?"

"You should invite her over, Steve. Let's show the good girl how we party."

"I'm not — Jesus, man. I'll invite her but I'm also inviting Nancy."

——

When the school day comes to a close, Jennifer finally gets to leave for the day, leaving the classroom with her bag, books in hand. Heading to her locker, she meets up with Wilhelmina. Nancy and Barbara stand not too far away. Jennifer pokes her head to the side, watching as Nancy opens her locker right when a note falls to the floor catching her attention. She steps away, walking up to them as she greets Barbara and Nancy. Picking it up, Nancy reads the note as Jennifer catches a glimpse of what the note says.

'Meet me. Bathroom. -- Steve.'

Before doing as it says, Nancy closes her locker and turns her heel, walking towards the bathroom. Jennifer begins to feel a pit in her stomach form as she fights back tears. She was quick to leave even before Nancy slips into the girls bathroom, unable to be seen. She decided to head home since she knew that Steve obviously has feelings for Nancy, the goody two shoes.

Jennifer steps inside her house and sees the news on the living room television. 

Will Byers is missing? 

Jennifer felt sad. Heart shattering as she thinks about Joyce and Jonathan and wonders how they are holding up in this whole situation. She walks toward her bedroom, setting her backpack on her bed before taking a seat next to the partially zipped bag as tears prick at your eyes. A knock on the door startles you as you wipe away your tears and act as if you're okay.

"Come in," You announce, voice cracking.

Jennifer watches as the doorknob turns. Her friend, Wilhelmina, walks in and takes a seat on her bed. She notices Jennifer’s red and puffy eyes as she sniffles.

"Hey, your mom let me in. She offered me a snack, and I declined... Are you okay?"

"N-no, I'm not. I--I, uh."

"Hmm, let me guess, boy issues?"

"Yeah," Jennifer confesses. "He likes Nancy."

"Ugh, that goody-two shoed bitch?"

Jennifer nods.

"Distance yourself. It'll only make matters worse when you're around her."

"Okay,"

"Yeah, stay away. That's what I would do." Wilhelmina smiled.

——

Wilhelmina decides to order pizza as she returns home from the grocery store with two pints of ice cream. Jennifer and Wilhelmina sit in the living room and wait as the blonde decides to rummage through the stack of VHS tapes beside the television. Once when the movie is over and the two of them finish the pizza, Wilhelmina heads home as Jennifer tells her mother that she is taking a ride around the block to clear her mind.

"Okay, be safe. Love you!” 

“Love you too, Mom!”

Jennifer grabs her coat from the rack and slips it on before walking out of her house. She grabs her bike and begins riding, she rides down the block as she goes wherever her legs are cycling her. Riding past the woods, she sees three bikes sitting beside the police barrier, recognizing one of the bikes — belonging to her brother, Dustin.

Suddenly feeling some drops above her, rain begins to pour over Jennifer as she decides to run into the woods to retrieve the boys. Her stomach churning in the process. Jennifer wanted to get them out of this rain, and to not go missing like Will. Catching up to the boys, they, along with you, startle seeing each other. You sigh in relief. 

"Jennifer, why are you here?"

"Dustin, what the hell? You’re not supposed to be out here. I… I'm here to get the three of you out of this rain. Now, come on. You are all drenched."

Out of nowhere, Jennifer and the boys hear rustling in the bushes around them as it scares all of them. Out of instinct, Jennifer moves to where she’s in front of them, blocking the three boys from the possible danger ahead of her. As they all try to figure something out, Jennifer grabs the flashlight from Mike's hand, shining it on the moving bush.

Fear rises in Jennifer's chest as she releases a breath she wasn't realizing she was holding. Her body tenses up, hearing a small rustling noise as she and the boys turn around. Jennifer gets ready to protect the young boys as a child steps out from behind the bush, standing in the cold, rainy weather with nothing but an oversized Benny's Burgers t-shirt on. Jennifer’s eyes broaden as a gasp escapes from between her lips.

[painsandconfusion]

Back to Basics

With you - Part Twelve

(tw: kidnapping, domestic abuse, conditioned whumpee, reverting to conditioning, stockholm syndrome, yandere whumper)

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Ida woke early, stirring with the morning light that streamed through curtains inept at their job. They’d need new ones soon. The sun fades everything away until it’s transparent. Flimsy and useless. Just a shadow of what it used to be.

Still. Sunlight brings life. And life is warm and constant. 

Oren’s arms constrict minutely around them as they stir, pulling them a little closer. A little warmer as they lie limp in his embrace.

They promised themself they’d fight.

Just to sleep and then they’d fight again.

But they were still so tired.

They nuzzled into his chest, breathing in pine and smoke and caramel. Just existing with him for this infinite moment - hating themself, but too exhausted to care.

Oren hummed at their cuteness - Ida could hear the sleepy smile behind it. “Mm, g’morning dove..” He pressed a soft kiss to the top of their head, nuzzling back.

Ida let their lips stay sealed. They twined an arm around him to hold him a little closer - hoping that would cover their mouth’s inability to play along. Confused and exhausted by the juxtaposition.

It was a strange morning.

Strange in that it felt so natural. So..right? No. Not right. 

Never right.

But…it was easy.

They fit here. Fit perfectly. Oren had carved an Ida-shaped hole into this desolate home surrounded by forest, and they couldn’t help but unwind a little at how easily they fit into it.

They just fit.

Their hands wrapped easily around the familiar skillet handle as they fried eggs for breakfast. What kind? “Surprise me,” Was Oren’s response each time.

So they made different kinds on a sporadic rotation. Over-easy today. 

A kiss on their cheek followed a ‘smells great!’, accompanied by the rich warm scent of Oren’s shampoo as glistening curls brushed wet and cool against their temple. 

Water dripping down their cheek. 

Cool. Water. Not hot - not tears. Just fresh and clean and easily wiped away without burn.

They plated the eggs, poured the orange juice, brewed the coffee, ate in idle conversation with the warm, glowing sunrise peeking around the windows.

Helped Oren find matching socks.

Kissed him goodbye as he set out to work. 

Ignored the click of the padlock after the door closed.

Returned to the house.

And…started doing dishes in a haze. A simple, floating, translucent haze that kept them moving and placated. 

Washed the skillet, checked the spices and made a list of ones that had one bad and needed to be replaced. Put the grocery list on the fridge. Watered the plants. Read a book. Swept away what little they’d missed the day before.

It was easy.

It was natural.

And they didn’t have the energy to fight it.

By the end of the day, they found themself sat at the piano when Oren came home, prodding at dissonant keys and frowning at their flattened ring. 

Oren just wrapped his hands over their shoulders, kneading in softly and pressing a kiss to their head. “I’ll get someone to come by and tune it. I’d love to hear you play again.”

Ida hadn’t played in years - not since they left.

But now? In this moment of falling and snuggling back into the place Oren carved for them? 

It felt natural to ghost their fingers over the keys, humming softly along as Oren nuzzled into their neck.

That image which brought them so much terror through their dreams now seemed more akin to a warm, soft blanket snuggling around them. Safe and familiar and scented of pine.

Tipping their head back to nuzzle a kiss to Oren’s jaw, Ida found that they were yearning to play again. 

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(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @heathenwhump  @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @kesskirata @wibbly-wobbly-whump @wormwriting @batfacedliar-yetagain @paranoiaxagent @siren-of-agony @yells-in-lowercase @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions @pinkieglitterheart @whumpasaurus101 @shameless-dumbass @darlingwhump @whumpy-catfish @hold-back-on-the-comfort)

As always, just lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

[matenrou-fan]

🪼 here with a request omg

SOOO I rlly loved the Jakurai walking into her from!s/o touching herself, so can I request a Hitoya one? Tysm Anya!!! have a nice day sweetheart!! 🤍🤍

Hitoya walks in on his innocent fem! s/o touching herself

it's literally the first request I received yet I write it only now..(ノ_<。) hope you will enjoy it!!

femreader, fingering (receiving);; 1300 words;;

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

;MINORS DNI;

Living with Hitoya was not that exciting but definitely a pleasurable experience. There was not that much wild passion that often can be when two lovers just move in together, as your husband already was, by his own words, too old to all this 'teenagers shit'..

When you can definitely tell he's just too busy with running a whole company, coming home late and tired. And sometimes, when you both have enough time and the right mood, he shows you something more passionate and wild than any 'teenagers shit' can ever be. In such moments Hitoya showed his whole sincere love for you, this aching appetite your body causes inside him, leaving you pleasured for a whole week, until next weekend or just free day when he would be ready to pay proper attention to his wife.

Yet right now it was not such a day, and you were sitting home all alone, busy with household chores. Clock on the wall showed that it's almost time for your husband to show up, yet you already received his usual text about being late today so you don't really wait now, processing to throw clothes into the washing machine.

That's when you notice one of Hitoya's shirts.. Haven't you washed it already not that long ago? You take a closer look just to notice that it was absolutely clean, only a few drops of coffee in the chest distorts a whole neat view. Small sigh mixed with giggle escaped your lips as you thought about your husband being sleepy and tired enough to mess up his shirt like that. Just why does he keep overworking himself? Despite it being kinda amusing, you can't help but feel some worry about him.. and maybe some loneliness?

"Hitoya.. How are you right now..?" - you sigh, holding his shirt close to your chest, feeling a slight smell of cologne on fabric.

Not that long ago he got a really hard case and almost spent more nights at work than at his own house, working hard. Of course you always adore Hitoya for his perseverance and meticulous attention to his job, yet it doesn't mean you don't feel a small grudge against it, also wishing to get under the spotlight. Because right now you feel so abandoned that even his smell starts to tickle your soul, reminding you about your desolation in his house.

You can't help but squeeze soft fabric and sniff it again, feeling as this aching tickles get lower, now echoing in your abdomen. Face of your lover immediately popped into your mind.. He probably would smirk and tease you about being so desperate, but it just makes you even more aroused now, as you slowly turn lights off and move from bathroom to bedroom, still thinking about his face.

But as soon as you throw away your home shorts and start slowly caressing your inner thighs, all your shyness fades away. It just feels so nice to finally be touched here, even if it's just your own arm. Still grasping Hitoya's shirt, you start imagining how he would do it - tickling your thighs before playing with your labia through the silk fabric of your panties, maybe whispering some sarcastic remarks about you being already so whiny, melting after just a few of his touches.. Your hand was moving on itself, caressing your folds before slipping under your panties and making you mewl from skin to skin contact. You didn't even know you were so needy, actually, as your whole body quickly gets heated up, responding to every thrust of your own fingers with a wave of goosebumps and small gasps that you don't even try to control. There's no reason to hold up your hands and voice, letting yourself have some fun.. You're all alone this evening anyway.. are you?

How quickly you submerge yourself in voluptuous pleasure, not noticing anything around, thinking only about pressure of fingers on your clit. When, in fact, there was a silent observer, who enjoyed your little stress relief no less than you are.

"And I wondered why you didn't answer the phone.. Decided to have some private time all alone?" - for a moment you thought it's just another fantasy about your husband getting home and joining your fun, yet when you open your eyes, a small ashamed gasp bursts from your lips.

Of course it was a real Hitoya, already without his jacket, only in his shirt with rolled up sleeves. The way he bites his lips, admiring your naked lower body with such sinful eyes makes you think he's been watching you for some time before breaking the silence.

"Ah! I.." - you mumble shyly, having nothing to say in your defense, only crossing your legs together so he wouldn't see the shameful view.

"Oh, don't act shy now.. You sound so cute just a few minutes ago.." - another chuckle escaped his lips as Hitoya got closer, standing at the end of the bed almost with a predator look. - "Show me more.. I want to see the end of the show."

"W..what..?" - still so confused, yet something inside your soul tickles, as deep down you do understand what he meant.

"You hear me. Keep going."

Waves of shame keep hitting your face, making it pulsing from the overwhelming temperature on your cheeks. His eyes that keep running from your blushing embarrassed face to wetness between your thighs make it worse.. You don't want to admit it yet his attentive gaze excites you even more, as you slowly push your fingers inside to the accompaniment of his sweet coo.

Everytime you tried to muffle your moans that now seem to be terribly loud, Hitoya scoff, ordering you to not be so coy. Or when you try to squeeze your thighs again, he leaned closer, spreading them apart with a big smirk, and now watching more carefully how you tremble from every thrust, praising you for being such a good girl and stretching yourself so nice.. Just for him. It gives incredible pleasure to Hitoya, seeing you melting under his gaze and teasing.. He prolongs his deep eye contact with you while slowly taking off his shirt, one of his hands gets down to stroke his hard cock through the tight fabric of his pants. What's wrong, it makes you even more embarrassed to see your own husband jerking off at the view of your naked, trembling body? But your squeaks and whimpers as you look away, too overwhelming with such a show which he decided to pay you back.. is just what Hitoya wanted to see, unzipping his pants and revealing his erect member.

"Are you close, darling?" - he smirks, lazily moving his hand around his glans, gaze fixed on your sweaty face, looking right in your hazy, cloudy eyes. - "Make sure to prepare yourself nicely for me.."

That's it. The final point, where you can't restrain yourself no longer, clenching around your own fingers as your whole body tensed up. Tossing your head back, you whine, mewling the name of your husband while cumming so hard right in front of him.

"Mm.. What a great show you made, and just for me.." - Through a fog of pleasure that fills your empty head you barely hear his low whisper as Hitoya gets on top of your body, tickling your shaky hips. - "Don't worry, dear, I will make sure to delight you no less today.."

With these words he pressed his lips to yours and muffle another small whine that breaks from your chest as you feel the hot tip of his dick caressing your folds. Closing your eyes, your grasp on his shoulders, knowing that he's not lying - if Hitoya gets in the right mood, there's no way you wouldn't be absolutely drained closer to morning..