#‘it’s coming back!’ ‘ITS GOT THERE!!!!’ is seared into my mind for all time

[moonlight-prose]

STRANGE ADDICTION

➻ 01. BEAUTIFUL DEATH

a/n: i have rewritten this chapter about two times just to get it right. i want it to feel like the show, but also i'm a perfectionist when it comes to posting in a new fandom. this story has been in my head since s1 dropped and well it feels great to finally put it somewhere. even if the love for silco has sorta died down. i've had the most fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

summary: dinner with an old friend leads to revelations about your past. about whether you chose the right path - the future meant for you. or if time indeed stands still beyond what science and magic tells you.

word count: 4.5k+

pairing: silco x f!reader; viktor x f!reader (platonic)

warnings: not explicit, angst, friendships, flashbacks, arguing, hesitation to tell the truth, pining (not by reader), the haunting of past relationships.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The sun beat down harder than ever before. A bright scorching ball of light that seemed intent on searing through the fabric of your gown. Although you weren't entirely opposed, given the weight of the material that clung to your skin.

It seemed that the sun favored topside more than anywhere else. You'd known this for a while, your eyes fixed on the horizon at each turning of the clock. Dusk assumed its duties for the day, bringing forth the moon that hid until the time was right to reveal herself. Flames licked across the sky and suddenly you were a child again. Stunned by the magnificence and beauty of something so normal.

When you were younger you held the belief that only those in the grand city would be able to witness this. To watch as sunset broke along brilliant blue before sinking below—away from the towers of the grand house.

Although the term house felt humble and dishonest given the lavish setting. Castle seemed like a better word. Or kingdom.

Piltover. The land of progress.

How ironic that just below the surface lay the vastness of a city that thrived on the opposite. You felt like royalty amidst the opulence around you. Someone who was crowned long ago by the people who deemed you worthy enough. Yet it wasn't that long ago that you were a young kid vying for a glimpse at a clear sky. Topside rarely accepted those that didn't belong; unsurprising but still a bitter disappointment.

How you managed to trick them—fool their wits—into allowing you access escaped you.

This felt too extravagant. So unlike the person you once knew. It felt fictional. A tale as old as time now finally bestowed upon someone like you.

"Unbelievable," you muttered, eyes wide at the brilliant orange that painted itself over pinks and yellows.

A voice echoed in the distance, someone calling your name, and with a sigh you were pulled away from the ambience of this view. You preferred a chance to stay here but you recognized the lilt of his voice, the familiar drawl of his words. With a sigh you let go of the balcony railing and turned towards the room you were staying in. His room. He offered and gave no room for an argument.

That didn't stop you from trying.

"Dinner is being planned," he announced, balancing his weight on the cane held in his tight grip.

"All this trouble isn't necessary." Pulling the chair by his bed close, you took the opposite one with a grin. "I'm not that important."

He huffed, long and loud enough to keep you quiet. "I don't see you often enough. Dinner is the least I can do."

"Viktor–" His hand went up before you could state your case—the argument ready to fly off the tip of your tongue.

"I've argued with you enough over the years to know when you will start." His smile is warm, an old piece of the past that still resides in the back of your mind.

"I call that an unfair advantage," you muttered.

"I would call it strategy."

"Strategy requires the mind of a politician," you joked. The words rolled out of your mouth with ease as you scrutinized the man before you.

He shrugged. "I've got politician friends."

"Right."

Over the years you often wondered where your paths might cross again. Where on the timeline of your lives Viktor would once more become your ally. You both found one another in your younger years—when things were simpler. The time in your life where you were starting to be recognized for your mind and him with his mind.

Two intellectuals forged in the fires of the Undercity. At one point in your life this might have felt humorous. Almost ironic.

Now you tried to grasp at what kept the two of you together. Especially since your step back away from the atmosphere of progress.

"I–"

"While you are here, would you mind—uh—looking over the research I have accumulated over the years of your absence?" The notebook he draws from the table beside him is crammed with scraps of paper. The binding was ready to burst at the seams. A sight that so utterly and undeniably the young man you met in the Undercity. "I trust your intelligence more than mine sometimes."

You could recall the hours spent pouring over books, each one filled with information you never thought you'd have the opportunity to learn. They brought the both of you closer to something that he felt would do the world some good. Knowledge was power in Piltover—you simply learned to utilize it for your own good. As a way to escape the past you tried your best to ignore.

Flipping to the first bookmarked page, you attempted to discern his writing. At times it was illegible, but you knew it better than yours. After years of looking at the same scratch marks and symbols, you were able to pick through Viktor's work with ease. Your heart stuttered at the research before you—the truth that rang silently in his hopeful expression.

"You want to find a power source?" you exclaimed, glancing up to see his eyes grow apprehensive.

Of course he would be wary about this. Every line scribbled, each night of hard work, all amounted to his life's legacy. The weight of his name was placed on loose pages and ink that bled between the compact journal. Running your finger over the foreign symbols etched onto each page and margin, you felt their power—the meaning behind each mark made.

"Viktor it's..." You wanted to call this emotion pride but the word felt minuscule given how much effort had been put into this. "Magnificent."

He grinned, settling back with a sigh of relief. "My partner Jayce—who you will meet tonight—has made a remarkable discovery."

"Remarkable is putting it lightly," you cut in, absentmindedly following the curve of the largest rune on the page, marking it in your memory.

Ducking his head, you watched his hands clasp together tightly, his thumb pressing against the pulse point of his wrist. "I have to do something...that will help."

That much you could understand.

"Ever since I've known you–" Shifting, you felt the skirt of your gown tug upwards—your leg exposed to the slight chill in the evening air. "You wanted to be remembered as a great scientist. Someone whose mind would be their legacy. I think you're closer to that than you think."

He scoffed. "I only told you that to stop the questions."

"About where you came from? Or something else."

The silence gave you enough of an answer. Explanations of his past came with little to no details. Merely stories that were fleeting, sinking beneath the depths long before you got a chance to figure them out entirely. He remained a mystery to you even now. Although...you couldn't say you were any different.

"Did you ever want that for yourself?" He leaned closer, his gaze attempting to pry beneath the depths of your mind.

"No," you breathed, catching one last glance at the sky. "It has always been better for my name to die with me."

"That I don't believe."

"No?" His eyes burned into the side of your face. A silent plea to finally let him in on the secret. To spill about the past you couldn't even accept for yourself.

Even as the years passed quicker than you could comprehend, Viktor never changed. Despite his age now surfacing across his face, he still felt familiar with each new slight wrinkle and faint mark that hadn't been there before. Beneath the fancy clothing and grim expression, he was still the boy you once knew. The ravenous scientist with a hunger to know more.

A man on a never ending journey for knowledge.

"You're brilliant," he said. "You always have been. I never quite understood why you chose to only be a..."

"A healer?" He nodded. "I didn't fit into Topside as smoothly as you did."

Whether he wished to admit it or not, the turmoil that tore through his body and mind was there. Hiding beneath the surface. Even as he refused to meet your gaze. Time may have intertwined you with him, but his dreams remained different—his hopes were vast enough to drag him away from the life you once knew.

Where he found the grandeur of a scientist working for someone brilliant, you found solace in your small shop surrounded with various concoctions and potions. A space that let you be the person you were always meant to be.

"You're talented enough to make a name for yourself. If you let me talk to the counsel–"

"No." The word sliced the air swiftly, silencing him with the sharp end of a whip.

He froze, drawing you out of the stupor your mind hastened to put you in. Upsetting him was the last thing you wanted, but you knew if he didn't stop now things would already be too late. Viktor had a tendency to escalate matters far more than necessary. It's why you were hesitant to even take his call—to give him leeway back into your life like this.

"Why?" he asked, his brows furrowed and eyes piercing through to the depths of your mind.

The answer lay at the back of your tongue—clear and ready to be pronounced with ease. But saying them out loud felt like a feat you'd never be able to manage.

"There are things in my past that are better left where they are," you replied, brushing off the way he looked at you.

A puzzle yet to be figured out. A math problem that held a solution to fix all that was broken.

But that was the thing...you couldn't be fixed. There remained no potion, no herbal remedy that could heal what had torn you to shreds. Who shattered you beyond repair.

Viktor left to pursue his Topside dreams—his pride in himself larger than anything you'd seen. Yet you remained behind. You stayed in the darkness of the Undercity with the promise to one day find him—to celebrate your dreams together. But that was before the battle plans, before you were recruited to help heal those that couldn't heal themselves. Before...him.

When it came down to it, you found yourself in a life far different from the one you dared to imagine with Viktor. The intention to follow him still existed somewhere as a fading dream that might never come true. But once you grew up, saw the world for how it was, you understood why you would never receive the same welcome he did.

You were a soldier first above it all and that was the one thing he would never know.

The secret you held in the confines of your heart.

"My past is the same as yours," he said. "We come from the same land. Surely if they accepted me, they will do the same for you."

You didn't fall in love with the devil.

The words that would never see the sunlight of Topside.

Reaching forward, you pat his knee in a gesture that offered a friendship despite all the secrets. Viktor would do what he wished; you couldn't stop him. That had always been the way of things since you were younger and so it would remain.

Merely two people who once offered to save one another from the bleak aspect of a future ready to eat you alive. Yet now there you were as adults. Sitting close enough to be friends yet miles a part from where you originally started.

You snapped the notebook shut and handed it back to him with a reluctant smile. The distaste of keeping him in the dark was pungent in your mouth, but this choice wasn't up to you to decide. It was always a mutual agreement between two people that were forced to be parted. He wouldn't speak about what happened and you'd do the same.

You were always meant to become a ghost of the Undercity and he a ghost of Topside.

Two fates that were never to intertwine again.

"Tell me," you said, moving to the still open balcony doors. "What's your partner Jayce like?"

He straightened in the chair, relief crossing his face at the realization that he hadn't offended you by pushing too far.

"You will like him."

"Oh I don't know about that," you drawled, a sly smile crossing your lips. "Don't you recall the night of the dinner party?"

He cringed as the memory of that disastrous debacle came to mind. You got into it with a certain doctor he befriended—a man with an ego large enough to choke the very air out of any room. The night ended with you unceremoniously chucking your drink into the man's face to save yourself the harsh act of slapping him. You refused to see Viktor for weeks—your own self worth having been burnt to the ground and defiled.

"I did not know he was going to insult you the way he had."

Scoffing, you leaned your back against the balcony railing. "You knew he wasn't good."

"Unfortunately that I did know." He stood on shaky legs, the clack of his cane against marble echoing off the walls as he joined you. "I can promise that Jayce is nothing like that."

"I'll determine that for myself." You sighed, glancing up at a darkened sky—the stars shimmering bright enough to rival the moon. "Besides, dinner is just us, right? Not a surprise interview to induct me into your hall of science. Because as flattered as I am–"

His laughter spilled over into your chest as he nudged your shoulder with his. "There will be no inducting. Not if you don't wish for it."

"Good." The clock across the room ticked away with expedited force—as if speeding up the flow of time to get you out of here. Yet you found yourself longing to stay, to remain in this small bubble. "Does he know who I am?"

"He knows what I've told him."

"All good I hope," you humored him, offering a placating smile that could be mistaken for charm. In the hopes that you'd make it through this night unscathed.

"There may have been a few stories." Swatting his shoulder, you ignored the shift he made towards you. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." You clutched the railing behind you until your knuckles hurt, your gut filled with the foreboding dread that came with treading the waters of your past. "I'm perfectly okay," you replied confidently.

Even if the words rang with the transparency of a lie.

Piltover at night held no comparison after witnessing the beauty of sunset. Yet after three glasses of wine and a dinner large enough to feed the village, you felt the thrill of excitement fill your chest at the thought of exploring parts you'd yet to see. Looping your arm around Viktor's you fell into step beside him—mere feet behind Jayce and a woman they introduced as Mel.

Of course, you knew who she was. Everyone in the city knew her name, but for the sake of a peaceful dinner void of any politics, you didn't make that fact obvious.

"It was a nice dinner," you said, the breeze off the water skimming the bare skin of your back.

"We should do it again." His voice remained steady, like a piece of home you never thought you'd get back. His eyes however...screamed something entirely different.

A divot in the road you weren't prepared for—one you didn't see yourself wanting.

"We should," you agreed, finding a spot against the railing. The blue of the ocean gleamed beneath the light of the moon. Truly Piltover at its finest. "Maybe next month?"

The irritated sigh slipped past his lips before he could reign it in, but that was all you needed to understand his intentions. You'd been afraid of this since you came to visit him the very first time. An execrable feeling weighed heavy in your stomach as time went on and his silence prevailed.

He stood beside you now with hope in his heart. The voices of Jayce and Mel faded into the background as they walked further away. And you were left with the friend you never wished to lose—the boy you longed to keep knowing.

"I haven't said—I should have said it already but–"

"Viktor," you interrupted, standing upright.

Suddenly the wine and the excessive amount of food didn't sound like a good idea after all. Your heart pounded against your chest, reverberating through your entire body—each nerve alight and waiting for the worst possible scenario to this outcome. He'd been your oldest friend, someone you counted on when you had no one else and the thought of ruining that left you feeling sick.

Each second he looked at you as if you held all the answers to what he pined for made your heart twist painfully.

With a shaky breath, you finally relented to the truth. "I can't."

"What do you mean?" His cheeks flushed vermilion as he fixed his gaze back to the water.

Shutting your eyes to collect your thoughts carefully, you sighed. "I know what you want me—us—to be and I can't...give that to you."

"Oh."

"I do care for you." Somehow the words echoed with hollow deceit, despite how true they felt in your heart.

"It's because of him."

You reared back, startled. "What?"

His eyes—plagued with sorrow deep enough to slice right through you—met yours waiting for a different answer. An explanation as to where your heart belonged. But you stood as still as stone—unable to form thoughts let alone coherent words. He ripped right down to the bone, pulled at your weak tendons and bit down on frayed nerves.

Yet he wasn't done.

"I'm not oblivious. When you finally came to Piltover you wouldn't tell me about what you did when I wasn't there. I only assumed you had feelings for someone. A man you didn't wish to speak about."

You exhaled slowly—the icy chill of relief swallowing you whole. "Oh...yes I...there was someone."

"Do you still love him?"

Glancing across the water, you glimpsed the bridge standing tall—a beacon of this city's hope for progress. But to your eyes it felt like a separation—a division between the two worlds of your life. One filled with enough pain to leave you staggering where you stool and other...a world of grandeur that overflowed with the option of peace.

At one point you had wanted to watch it burn. His betrayal tainted everything good about that place. A scar carved deep enough to leave an everlasting wound that never healed. You longed to forget it—to rid yourself of the memories he plagued—but you still knew one day...you'd stand upon that same ground again.

"I don't know," you breathed, the past clawing its way up your throat—shoving towards the very front of your mind.

BEFORE

The streets were overrun with people as they moved and flowed like the waves on a shore. You felt shoulders knock into you, exasperated glances thrown your way as you fumbled with the plants still gripped in your hands. They grew at the edge of the bridge—hidden in the shadows as a safeguard from the sun. Dirt packed itself beneath your fingernails, mud coating the thin fabric of your pants from where you dug.

"You should really have that looked at," you grumbled, shoving the plant into your satchel.

Garnering no response, you were left to get lost in your own thoughts. Whether or not he was actually in pain didn't concern you. Not when you had a job given by Vander who insisted you focus solely on healing rather than fighting. It's not as if you entirely disagreed with him—you were more than happy being a healer rather than a soldier—you simply couldn't figure how this would help in the long run.

What exactly were you supposed to do when people acted stubborn and brash?

"What are you writing?" he barked, stopping abruptly. You rammed into him with a sneer.

"Nothing that's of any concern to you." Shoving your pen and notebook into the bag, you watched as he huffed in response, turning away. "I'll tell you again since you seem to be hard of hearing. You should really have your wound–" He stopped, eyes flashing over his shoulder with a glare. “–looked at."

"You sure do talk a lot," he snipped.

"It's a gesture of kindness. You don't have to be an ass about it."

How did you manage to get stuck with this man? You were more than capable of sneaking around the border of Topside without anyone's help. Vander assigning you an escort seemed synonymous with the actions of an older brother being overly protective. Yet you weren't related in any way shape or form—you were simply someone who understood the need for change.

Arguing would get you nowhere and so you did your best to ignore his quick glances. Coming up with a correct judgment for what you found took precedence over the man in front of you.

The heat of the day seeped into your clothes—sticking to your exposed skin—the longer you trekked back. If it were possible to steal some time, you'd search for that small pool you and Viktor used to play at—just to submerge yourself in cold water. But with a guard at your side, you were left with only one option. Dreaming about weather cooler than this.

"You're walking too slow," he called over his shoulder.

The desperation for escape called to you, begged you to leave him behind and go somewhere quiet. But before you could sprint in the opposite direction, he turned. Ignoring him didn't seem to be a well thought out solution, but that never stopped you from trying. Even as he glared at you.

What little sunlight remained began to dip below the horizon—a sight you'd neve grow tired of. If only you had the chance to see it over the ocean with a clear sky above.

"You need that fixed before we return." Avoiding the incensed glare directed your way, you settled on the edge of a wall.

"What I need is for you to keep going. So I can go home."

"Listen—whoever you are—I know that when you return you're going to be questioned about why you're in pain. Either you let me patch up that wound or you get Vander. Your pick."

The arguing ceased with a defiant raise of your brows, lips curling into a sly grin that pinned him where he stood. There really was no other option than submission. What was a quick check before you were on your merry way. Much to your delight, he seemed to come to the same conclusion as he joined you on the wall, undoing his vest with an indignant sigh.

Silence filled the empty space between you. Slipping between the cracks and shadows that cast across his angular face. You'd seen him before on the edge of your vision, leaning against the bar with a book in his face—long fingers trailing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you differed.

Where you wanted to roam, he longed to be back making plans with Vander instead of trapped in the task of guard duty for a healer he'd never met before.

"Who shot you?" The glow of sunset illuminated the pale skin beneath his shirt—a long jagged scar etched into the skin threw you off for a moment as your fingers searched for blood.

The sharp wince in his face said you'd found it. "I couldn't see their face."

Nodding, you moved his hand to keep the fabric up and out of the way. A quick rummage in your bag for the salve you made earlier caught his attention—turquoise gleamed in your peripheral, prying you open with enough ease to jar you down to the bone.

"The bullet only scraped you. This should help close it up by the end of the week." You pressed the dark mixture along his wound, catching the subtle flinch he tried to smother. "Sorry."

"I'm fine," he mumbled in a whispered tone.

"I can fix it up properly when we return. Get you a real bandage to keep it from getting worse."

You nearly missed it. That slow imperceptible grin that curled at the edge of his lips. But your eyes latched onto it like a kid with candy, savoring the quick glimpse of something surreal. It threw you off balance, forced you to reckon with the thought of never knowing him before today.

Ethereal. Empyrean.

He sat before you a stranger with the eyes of a fond ally. A friend you had yet to be properly introduced to. It seemed he harbored the same thought—his mouth forming the question as if it fell right out of your head and into his lap.

"You're a friend of Vander?" Slipping his vest back on, you noticed he left it unbuttoned.

You found you preferred it that way.

"So are you. I've seen you...uh...with him. Around the bar you know."

The quiet echo of the water lapping at rocks and voices in the distance didn't feel bitter, but rather settled the nerves leaping beneath your skin. It was nice to sit there and watch the night sky show itself to the world once again. Eventually you'd be forced to return to a life that teemed with a clear understanding that hung over everyone's heads. There would be a fight. An inevitable battle for what you believed was right.

But for this transcendent moment you basked in the few moments of peace life allotted you.

The calm before the storm.

"I don't know your name," you admitted, turning your head slightly to catch his gaze already faced in your direction. "Vander never told me."

If he caught you in the middle of a blatant lie, he didn't call you on it. You could tell he saw right through you—the glint in his eyes shining brighter than moments before. This wasn't a clarification for Vander's sake or the battle. You wanted to know his name for yourself. A small token of the man you may never interact with again save for tonight.

After a moment his voice came with a soft breath of air. "Silco."

Teeth dug into your lip to keep the blooming smile at bay. "Silco," you said under your breath.

He latched onto it, dug his fingers into the tangible feeling they created in his chest, and felt a smile pulling wider at his own mouth. You said it again, unable to stop yourself as a thrill of excitement fluttered at the base of your stomach. So simple, so smooth off the tip of your tongue. Yet filled with enough power to stir your chest with a feeling you wished to inspect further.

The lilt of it hung in the air as you turned back to the sky with a satisfied hum, relishing in the time you had left with him at your side.

[crowsflag]

thinking about jordan dawson kicking the winning goal at the 2022 round 3 showdown always, always and forever.

[tonycries]

Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? [Part 2] - G.S. 

Synopsis. “Besides, Toru, just because it worked for you doesn’t mean it’ll work for me.” “Wanna bet?” For Satoru, convincing you to take the aphrodisiac chocolate too wasn’t the hard part - the hard part was being shoved into that bathroom stall, cock throbbing, mind spinning - trying not to beg for mercy. 

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected sex, slight femdom, overstimulation (male), lots of cum, you absolutely ruin Satoru, semi-public sex, subby! Satoru, aphrodisiac sex, multiple rounds, shutting up Gojo Satoru by making him cum in his pants, pet names (darling, my girl), swearing.

Word count. 3.7k

A/N. Can be read as a standalone, but PART 1 HERE.

Bros this was mad hard to write oml. Art by @_3aem on X.

Satoru had everything he needed to absolutely ruin you tonight.

Overpriced Cartier glasses? Check.

Jet-black Hellcat freshened up, ready with a little surprise for you inside? Check.

You, all dolled up and brows furrowed adorably at him? Holy shit, check.

“Toru, if we’ve missed our reservation because you had beef with the neighborhood cat again…”

“He was looking at you wrong! I had to defend your honor!” Dramatic protests falling on deaf ears, Satoru speeds through the darkening city streets, still grumbling under his breath about “cats these days”.

With your fiancé being absolutely swamped with missions recently, you’d been anticipating this night for weeks now.

Little did you know, Satoru had just as much - if not more.

Soon enough, the neon lights of that upscale, new restaurant you’d been absolutely dying to visit recently come into view. 

Okay, it’s time. 

“Y’know…” he begins, glancing at you with that familiar mirthful glint in his eyes. Laughter bubbling to his throat at your knowing stare, he plows on “Remember that one night where I just so happened to come across your special chocolate?”

“You mean swiped from my secret stash?”

“Semantics” he waves off. “But anyway, I was thinking…” he voice trails off mischievously as he swiftly turns to grab the mysterious black bag sitting on the backseat that you’d been eyeing suspiciously ever since you got in the car.

Oh shit, so that’s what he was onto. Eyes widening, “Toru, no.”

He whines, a pout forming on his lips. “C’monnn, no one’s gonna know except me. I want to make this night unforgettable, my girl.”

You raise a brow, “Unforgettable? Toru, your idea of unforgettable will end up with both of us arrested.”  After the madness of last time, you’d ignored his sticky note for a reason!

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you try to justify - probably to yourself just as much as Satoru, “And just because the aphrodisiac worked for you doesn’t mean it’ll work for me.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, twinkling eyes still undeterred. “Wanna bet? I’ll do the dishes for all of next month. We’ll never know till we find out, darling.” 

You narrow your eyes at the hand already snaking its way inside the bag, faded finger marks from last time still searing into your skin. Catching Satoru’s gaze - behind the amusement, something else shines darkly. 

Shit.

Goosebumps erupt down your spine. 

A beat passes. One. Two. Only the revving of the engine filling the tense air. 

“...two months.” 

It’s all Satoru can do to not jump in joy in his seat right now - knowing his girl, you’ll probably take back what you said and immediately bonk him on the head for being so ridiculous. 

“Deal.” he mutters lowly, pulling up to the driveway.

 A flash of hot pink. In the short time it takes the valet to reach your car, Satoru has already split that too-familiar chocolate, holding out the bigger part to you, eyes gleaming with excitement. “I swear this’ll be a night you won’t forget.” he grins, biting into the chocolate. 

God, he was going to be the death of you. 

The decadent flavor washes over your tongue, a slight tingling on your tastebuds. But, it’s still just chocolate, right? You scoff - at least you won’t have to do the dishes for two months.

Now, Satoru knows he won’t have to do the dishes for two months. 

Ah, how heavenly you’d be, splayed out and begging for mercy underneath him. Heels clacking against the polished tile and your hand warm in his as the maître d’hôtel ushers you both inside, dick twitching in anticipation. Shit, was the chocolate working already?

He risks a glance at how you’re faring - nope, still normal. That’s okay, he’ll be driving you crazy in no time.

---

Okay, maybe he won’t be driving you crazy in no time. 

How dare you sit there so gorgeous and unbothered, sipping slowly on your wine while he’s here mind whirling around how he’ll fuck you right here right now on this table without getting arrested for public indecency.

Fuck, it was hitting him hard.

Cock aching, heat rushing to his cheeks, eyes bleary - he sighs in frustration, resigning himself to do the dishes for two months.

Why did he even think of this? Damn his big fucking ego, he should’ve never taken that chocolate again. Maybe if he eats you out just right he could lower it to-

A feathery touch on his thigh. Too light for any sort of friction - just enough to set his skin ablaze. So deft that Satoru thinks he must’ve imagined it.

Until there it is again. Soft caress dancing delicately up his thigh. 

You.

A shiver creeps down his spine, blood rushing straight to his dick. Probably for the first time in his life, Satoru is speechless - maybe because you’ve reached underneath the table, teasingly sliding a heel along the top of his thigh.

“…darling…”

“Hmm?”

He blinks away the haze in his eyes, raising them to meet yours. “Wha-”

Oh. Oh, fuck.

What has he gotten himself into?

Eyes half-lidded, brows furrowed, and looking into his soul with a predatory glint that jolts the great Gojo Satoru right to his very core - and to his throbbing cock. He’d be lucky to make it out alive. Maybe he should just beg for his life right now.

Minutes tick by - or maybe it was seconds - Satoru is clueless. Mind only focused on the heel inching closer and closer, dangerously near to where he needed you the most. A smug smirk curls your pretty lips as his mouth drops into a soft oh.

The air crackles with an unspoken tension - his hips trying to subtly move you towards the erection furiously straining against his pants. He needed it so bad. It’s fucking pathetic, he knows. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck as your sole grazes his aching head. Pressing down. Hard.

“Fuck!”

Stomach flipping - before Satoru could fully process what the fuck was happening - he cums embarrassingly in thick spurts that pool on his pants, soaking right through the fabric, probably smearing on your new heels.

Head spinning, he bites his knuckles hard enough to draw blood, muffling the desperate moans threatening to escape his lips. 

He grinds his hips in shallow, mindless motions in a desperate attempt for more friction.

Instead, he gets the opposite.

“Behave, Toru.” you warn, swiftly resting your heel back on the floor, voice strained with something that makes his sensitive dick quiver animalistically. 

You huff out a chuckle at the almost-inaudible whimper of disappointment that rips from his throat. It’s laughable, really, he was supposed to be the one ruining you. This was so not fucking suave.

Face burning - whether due to the chocolate or embarrassment at the warm patch on his pants, he doesn’t even know - Satoru wishes the Earth would swallow him up whole. Would it be overkill to just teleport outta here?

The only thing that snaps Satoru out of his little reverie is your pretty lips forming into a tut. “Now now, Toru. It’s rude to make a mess at a restaurant. Why don’t we go to the restrooms and get you cleaned up, hm?”

Oh. Shit. 

A firm grip on his arm, his hands desperately covering his crotch. 

He was not going to make it out of this alive. 

Honestly, it wasn’t hard to bribe the waitress into letting you follow into the restroom after your fiancé - and put up an Out of Order sign promptly afterward. The actual hard part was trying not to rip off his clothes and give into your desires before you two even made it there. But you couldn’t let anyone else see him like that, of course. 

You were sure that if you had Satoru’s powers then you would’ve hollow purpled everyone here and taken him already.

You were going to ruin him.

Mind running a mile a minute, Satoru wouldn’t even be surprised if he’d just teleported to the restroom. If he was in a better state of mind he might’ve even admired the decor.

“My girl.” he breathes out, voice ragged. It’s all that is said before your lips are on his. 

It was like a fever dream - the bruising urgency of your lips, your aching pussy, and the heat of the stall as your quickened breaths mingle in a desperate dance. Your tongue intertwining with his. 

Manicured nails ripping his shirt open, you don’t have half the mind to register the designer buttons hitting the floor.

Satoru’s lips hazily chase yours as you pull away delicate strings of spit snapping just as quickly as your sanity. 

Your mouth waters at Satoru’s chest in all its chiseled glory, creamy skin peeking out from whatever remnants of the shirt were clinging to his sculpted shoulders. You wanted to ruin him.

“You dirtied my heels, Toru.” you frown, mockingly innocent. A choked-up gasp leaves his throat as you snake a hand down to firmly grip the erection straining against Satoru’s wet pants. Unmoving. “What shall we do about that, hmm?” 

“Ah! Please, my girl.”

“Please what? Use your words, Toru.”

“Please. Wanna cum so bad.”

Satoru learned the hard way that he could never turn back after uttering those words. 

Though, he already had an inkling once you immediately slam him against the stall door, fumbling with his belt, nails digging hard into his prominent v-line. “If you say so, Toru. Better not stop till you’re shooting blanks.”

The only thing that registers in his mind is the deadbolt echoing throughout the empty bathroom and his still-rock hard cock throbbing in your hands. 

“Ah- hah! Fuck.” low groans leave his throat at each jerky movement down his length. 

Head thrown back, pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, your tits pressing against his body as your hands urgently move along his veined length - up, up, up. 

Your thumb harshly teases his flushed head, spreading the precum from his leaking tip lewdly. “Oh God.”

His knees buckle, hands slamming against the top of the stall hard enough to make the walls tremble, desperately trying to keep himself from collapsing. Mind spinning, he doesn’t even know if he’s on planet Earth anymore.

“Toru~ Gonna let me join in on the fun?” your dangerous purr sends his cock twitching, breath hot against his ear.

Your cunt quivers, slick soaking your panties and trailing down your legs at the pornographic moans spilling from his lips as you fucked his thick cock with your fist. You wanted him so badly it was driving you insane.

Straddling a muscled thigh, your clothed core meets the fabric of his pants. It was already ruined, so what was another stain?

You grind your hips down on him, hard. Humping him like an animal in heat. 

Your slick seeping into the fabric of his leg. Harsh texture stimulating your needy cunt so painfully good. Swollen folds parting, mewls of pleasure leave your swollen lips as your clit catches on the rough fabric of his overly expensive pants. Over and over. 

Distantly, you register a strong hand tugging roughly on the thin fabric of your panties - easily ripping it and letting it fall to god-knows-where. 

Your hand doesn’t let up either, milking Satoru’s cock mercilessly the way you’d been dying to ever since you stepped foot into his restaurant. Your head spins, hips moving so animalistically on Satoru’s thigh.

A hand reaches down to sensually massage his heavy balls, squeezing and pressing hard circles - just the way you knew he liked it. 

“Oh, my girl. Always so good t’me- Ah! Hngh, gonna-” 

Satoru doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he’s pumping hot ropes of seed that decorate your pretty hands. Hips fucking up into you desperately.

You’re not far behind, juices squirting all over that expensive fabric, pooling on the tiled ground with a drip! drip! drip! that bounces off the walls of the restroom.

You two were so fucking loud. 

But right now, you wouldn’t even mind if anyone walked in to see your Satoru so debauched - as long as they see you fucking the soul out of him as well. 

It wasn’t enough.

“You said you wanted to cum, didn’t you, Toru?”

A shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his dick. “What? W-wait, darling. Fuck- Oh!” the strained words tumble out of Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips as you push down his soaked pants, kneeling to leave a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down to his twitching, thick base. 

“I won’t be merciful, Toru.”

Ah, you could do this forever.

Nipping teasingly till you’re satisfied with the bite marks decorating his pelvis, you pool the saliva in your mouth, spitting a long stream into his furiously flushed head.

Once. Twice. Mixing enticingly with his precum, trailing down his length. “Ah! Hngh- oh, darling. So sensitive-” he bucks his hips into you, moaning loudly.

“You can do it f’me, Toru.” you murmur darkly against his twitching tip. Satoru keens as you take him until his fat head hits the back of your throat, pulsing around your warm mouth.

Your fiancé’s choking on his breaths more than you as you hollow your mouth, bobbing up and down at a ruthless pace. Gagging, you shove his throbbing dick all the way in with a desperation that eclipses the need for air, till you’re nose-deep in those tufts of snowy hair. 

“Oh, darling. Jus’ like that. Losing m’mind.” he whines.

Your pussy quivers at Satoru’s slightly salty taste, making you moan around his rock-hard length. Drool and precum dribble down the corner of your mouth, mixing with the mascara running down your cheeks. It was debauched. It was messy. And it was exactly how you wanted him. 

Tonguing Satoru’s sensitive slit in a delicate dance, you feel drunk off his sinful moans as you suck on him desperately. Breathless. Craving for more. 

Looking up to see a delicate streak of tears falling down his pretty face at the overstimulation, your cunt clenches around nothing. Fuck, you could just devour him.

“Cum, Toru.”

It was too much for him- 

Tight balls twitching sensitively, he cums onto your ready tongue. Fucked out whimpers leave his lips, tears clinging to his long, white lashes as he paints your pretty mouth with his thick, white seed.

Ah, he was always your favorite taste. Tasted so good - so good that you could cum untouched. 

And you do.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head and pussy clamping down on nothing as you reach your high.

You milk his cock ruthlessly, relishing in the thick cum flowing down your throat. But it still wasn’t enough.

Removing yourself off his dick with a lewd pop! you reach a hand to grab Satoru’s flushed throat, nails placed right over his thundering pulse. With a single tug, the great Gojo Satoru is on his knees before you, in the bathroom of some fancy restaurant. 

Walls still quivering, you stand over him, connecting your sweaty forehead - and your mouth - with his. 

Kiss-bitten and smeared with your lipstick, Satoru’s lips are soft - or maybe that’s the cum coating yours. A part of you delights in his half-lidded, fucked out gaze as your eyes bore into his - does he even know what he’s doing anymore? 

Hot seed flowing down his throat, Satoru can do nothing else but kneel there and take it. He feels lightheaded, all the blood in his brain rushing to his cock as you suck on his tongue. This was driving him insane. You were insane.

And he fucking loved it.

“You d-drive me insane, my girl.” his words muffled by your hand still around his throat. His voice cracks with sensitivity in a way he would definitely be embarrassed about if he were in the right mind. 

Yet, how could he ever be with the slow, feral smile that spread across your beautiful face?

Leaning down, you whisper lowly against his ear. “I’m the same, Toru.” 

Maybe it’s your words, and the hot breath that sends shivers down his spine. Or maybe it’s the way you lift your dress so alluringly - cunt dripping on full display, slick trailing down your legs. 

All Satoru knows is, he’s surging forwards. He’s got your front pressed against the cold wall, cock twitching to life and bullying its way through your swollen folds. 

Mindlessly, a strong hand smacks against the stall as Satoru tries to keep himself steady. Too drunk off of you - off of your whimpers of his name, and the feeling of your plush walls clamping down on his throbbing erection, struggling to accommodate his size despite being so dripping wet. 

He doesn’t give a fuck. 

“Hngh- S’tight. Oh, fuck! S-sucking my cock back hah- in s-so needily” 

Ramming in and out of your hole at a merciless cadence, Satoru’s balls smack your clit so animalistically. You two feel like a pair of fucking animals. 

Shudders of overstimulation and pleasure wrack his body. Chest heaving, his blown-out eyes roll to the back of his head at the rapid, desperate thrusts inside your warm core. 

Pulling out all the way to slam back in mercilessly, Satoru could pass out at the sight of your ass jiggling as it arches to meet the rhythm of his hips. 

“God, m’girl. Gonna- gonna cum ah! Fill this pussy the way you want-” he groans raspily into the heady air of the stall, exhausted cock shooting wispy strings of cum that fill you up - some missing as he pumps into you, spilling out to paint your swollen folds white.

Before he knows it, a low hiss leaves his throat as you remove yourself off of his furiously pulsing cock - only to shove him seated on the commode. 

You take a split-second to admire your gorgeous fiancé - face flushed as much as the prettily leaking tip of his throbbing cock, eyes dazed and miles away, curtained by his sweaty white locks. A delicate trail of drool made its way down the corner of his ruby, kiss-bitten lips. Exactly how you wanted him.

What a fucking picture. Maybe you should take that chocolate more often…

“Toru~ Remember what I said? You’re not tapping out, are you?” you hum, eyes narrowing at the way his erection twitches so ferally at your dangerous tone. 

“Ah- don’t know- Can’t, please.”

You loom dangerously close, a hand reaching out to mockingly push his cheeks together, drool pooling at your fingertips. “I’ve told you before, Toru. Use your words. Please what?”

“M-mercy, please!” pathetic pleas muffled by your hand.

“Mercy?”

“Mercy!”

“No mercy for you, my darling Toru.”

The great Gojo Satoru, begging for mercy, will face none at your hands. 

You straddle his muscled legs, shivering with sensitivity. “Ah! Hah- Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god-” he whines nonstop as his quivering tip teases your swollen, messy folds. In one, fluid motion, you sheath him fully in your dripping cunt.

Ah, you feel so full. 

You relish in the way he twitches instinctively inside you. Steadying yourself using Satoru’s shoulders, you drag your cunt along his length, his prominent veins grazing that one spot inside you. Pulling out till his thick head teases your entrance, you drop down - inch by inch - over and over.

Satoru thinks he could cry right now - or maybe he already is. He doesn’t know, nor does he care - not when you’re so beautiful and fucked out, nails digging into his shoulders and heart eyes palpable in your gaze as you ride his sensitive cock into insanity.

He can’t stop the ragged moans that escape his swollen lips, head thrown back and hips bucking up exhaustedly into you to meet your every bounce. A hand is at his throat, pulling your face to his, “Don’t run away, Toru~”

He felt so raw. More a feral beast than a man as he watches his abused cock get swallowed up over and over by your wet pussy.

If he thought his dick was broken after this time then it’s really unsalvageable now.

He wanted to run away. He wanted more. He wanted you to keep looking at him with that fucking predatory gaze that made a carnal part of him twitch so good. He wanted to cum.

“I wan’- I wanna cum, please, my girl.” Satoru gasps out, teary eyes blown and looking up at you so delicately.

“Cum?”

“Yes.”

“Cum, Toru.”

Maybe it was the glint of fondness in your eyes, maybe it was the piercing of teeth as you bit down hard into the crook of his neck. Or maybe it was the way your snug cunt clamped down on him so sinfully as you cum as around him. But Satoru is immediately bucking up into your hips - reaching his climax, if you can even call it that. Poor, exhausted cock cumming dry. “Ah- Cumming- M’cumming hgnh-”

Satoru doesn’t even know if he feels his orgasm, just waves of pleasure that overwhelm him as he rides it out on your cunt. 

Ah, he thinks if heaven was a person then it would be you. 

Maybe he’s died already.

“Toru? Open your eyes, darling.”

Slowly opening the eyes that he didn’t even realize he had furiously scrunched closed, Satoru slowly blinks his vision back.

An angel?

“No, Toru, your fiancé.” you huff out a laugh. Oh shit, he said that out loud? 

Head still reeling from, well, everything - the great Gojo Satoru can do nothing else but sit there, exhausted and fucked out of his mind as you slowly remove yourself off his twitching cock. He’s never felt so vulnerable - so ruined.

Ah, someone remind him to never let you have a bite of that chocolate every again. 

A low hiss leaves him, along with a few tears that later he swears were never there. 

As you tenderly clean both yourselves up in the humid stall, Satoru thinks he’s never been handled with so much care. Ah, he loves your gentle hands. He loves you.

“I love you too, Toru.” you whisper into the intimate silence. Oh, shit, he said that out loud again?

Your beautiful laugh, “Yes, you did, Toru.” Throwing away the used tissues, you grin “Y’know they’ve probably brought out our food by now.”

Absent-mindedly, “Mhm?”

“I was thinking I wanted chocolate for dessert.”

A/N. Oh Satoru, you poor, innocent fool…

Also this turned out longer than expected. Reblogs so so appreciated!

Plagiarism not authorized.

Taglist:

@sage-ove @mo0nforme @thirtykiwis @planetzetra

[guiltyasdave]

glitch

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: ~1k

summary: Prequel to nights are so starry, blood moonlit. How you and Javi became neighbors with benefits.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), smoking, alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, a hint of dom!Javi, unprotected p in v, kinda rough sex, ass slaps, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), Javi is a menace, a hint of angst and feelings because of who i am as a person

a/n: written for @iamasaddie’s writing challenge 2.0 with the prompt "never knew you were such a freak", and since my first story about these two was also part of one of aly's writing challenges, it just made sense to revisit them :)

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates!

It had started out with fleeting glances in the hallway, quick greetings when your apartment doors opened at the same time, then short conversations on your adjoining balconies, late night talks with your feet propped up on the railing and his back leaning against it, sometimes exchanging a cigarette or a light, or occasionally a bottle of beer when one of you had run out. 

Of course you noticed the ridiculously tight jeans that really shouldn't look that good on him, the way his broad shoulders strained against his clothes, and the way his shirts always revealed a little too much of his golden-skinned chest. You couldn't deny the fact that your neighbor was incredibly attractive, and that he knew it. 

You probably should have said no when late one evening, after Javi had found you on your balcony, smoking and watching the glistening city lights, he invited you to share a glass of bourbon. Together. At his place. 

He had been flirting with you, which you suspected he did with every woman he met, and you had tried not to pay it any mind, but you were well aware of how this evening would end if you accepted. 

You should have said no, and a stronger, less lonely version of you might have, but you craved human contact, craved to be touched by someone else than yourself, and if the sounds that traveled through the thin walls from his bedroom to yours frequently enough were any indication, Javi knew what he was doing. 

You should have said no, because it became clear to you very quickly that Javier Peña would ruin you for all other men.

He was more gentle, more caring than you had expected him to be and he prioritized your pleasure in a way that you had never experienced from any man before. He took you to heights that you hadn’t thought possible before, and it was addicting.

You should have said no, but you hadn’t, and now you keep coming back for more. 

You keep coming back for the way his skin tastes under your tongue, for the way his lips press against yours, swallowing moans and whimpers, for the way his fingers and his cock reach so deep inside of you that you still feel him hours later, when you have said your good nights and crawled under the covers of your own bed. Never his, never crossing the line to a different kind of intimacy.

It’s another one of those nights, a soft knock on a door, a mutual understanding passing between you, gentle touches that burned under your skin until they got more demanding, until you both gave in to that pull that kept you coming back. 

He’s already made you come on his tongue twice, until you were dripping onto his sheets, his name the only word in your mind and on your lips. You’re on your hands and knees, limbs shaking, trying to accommodate his length and the harsh rhythm that he’s setting. 

“Taking me so fucking well,” he pants, running his hands down your back and over your ass. You chase his touch, goosebumps forming in its wake, your moans filling the air as he keeps hitting impossibly deep inside of you. 

His palm connects with your skin, nothing more than a playful swat, but the sensation sears through you, lighting your nerve endings on fire as you all but scream your pleasure into the softly lit bedroom.

“Oh?” His voice is low, rough in his throat. You don’t need to turn your head and look behind you to know that he’s smirking down at you right now. “You liked that, huh?” 

You nod eagerly, too far gone to be ashamed of the way your hips are bucking back against him, working desperately to feel him deeper inside of you. 

He slaps you again, harder this time, and you feel yourself clenching around him, feel the way a new wave of slick is coating his cock. His fingers dig into your shoulder and he pulls you up, until your torso is pressed against his, his mouth moving against the delicate skin of your neck. 

“Never knew you were such a freak, baby,” he whispers, his lips curling into a grin, teeth nipping at you.

“Shut up.” You try to hold your voice steady, ignore the throbbing need between your thighs, but he just chuckles and presses another kiss against the side of your throat before he loosens his hold and pushes you back towards the mattress. 

His hands grab your hips instead, pulling you into his thrusts, filling you so deeply that you see stars behind your eyelids.

“You want me to do it again?” You hate how smug he sounds, would love to deny him the satisfaction, but god, you do want him to. 

“Fuck– please, Javi.” You’re breathless, reduced to a mess of trembling thighs and desperate whimpers, and you wish that you could stay like this forever. 

He slaps your ass twice in quick succession and deepens his thrusts at the same time, punching all air from your lungs. His hand snakes down to graze your clit and you’re overwhelmed with sensations, pure pleasure coursing through your veins so suddenly that it’s almost disorienting. You collapse onto the sheets, your pussy pulsing around him as your body shakes through its third orgasm of the night and you’re whimpering his name as he buries himself deep inside of you and comes with a groan, painting your insides with his release. 

After more kisses, more touches, and a shared cigarette, you get dressed and eventually, his apartment door clicks shut behind you. You lean your back against the wall, closing your eyes and breathing deeply for a moment before you enter your own place.

Again, you know that you’ll be coming back for more. And that no matter how many times you come back, it will never be enough.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

[seongwars]

forget me not | vii

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 7.4K Warnings: poorly written SMUT (cunnilingus, unprotected p in v), swearing, fluff, hurt/no comfort

Fic Masterlist

a/n: read fate bound for context and listen to silver springs by Fleetwood Mac, k bye

You sat on the edge of your bed, gripping the covers tightly as a dull, relentless throb pulsed through your skull. Your vision wavered in and out of focus, as if the world was shifting beneath you and you couldn’t find steady ground.

You wiped at your tears, hands shaking uncontrollably. It wasn’t just the physical pain—it was as if the memory you had seen moments ago had ripped something open inside you, something deeper and more primal than you could understand. 

Jongho’s quiet, steady presence grounded you as he entered the room. He moved deliberately, swiping through his medical tools that floated in the air. He was focused, gentle as he examined your head, his fingers pressing lightly against the spots where the pain seemed to sear the most. His touch was clinical but comforting, the faint hum of magic from his hands soothing the sharp edges of your migraine.

He took a deep breath before manifesting an intricately carved device from his bag. He held it up and flicked it on, the tip glowing with a soft, steady light. He shined it into your eyes, watching the way your pupils reacted, murmuring something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch.

The pain behind your eyes spiked sharply, making you wince as fragments of visions began to flood in—faces, voices, moments of another life. In the visions, you could see Yunho—sharp, detached, devoid of the kindness you once knew. Your heart raced, and you felt a cold sweat break out across your skin as the memories clawed their way to the surface. You couldn’t control them, couldn’t stop the rush of fragmented emotions they dragged with them.

Jongho clicked off the light and sighed, pulling back to observe you for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought. “That wish,” Jongho began, “definitely weakened your magic and the shop’s hold on you.”

Your brow furrowed as you processed Jongho’s words, eyes narrowing. “Meaning?” you urged quietly as if you feared the response. 

“Yunho’s wish reversed the magic that erased your memories and restored them. Fragments of your past lives, of your connection to him, and to this realm are coming back in pieces, but it’s causing immense strain on your mind and body.”

“Memories?”

“Your mind is attempting to reconcile the past with the present, to piece together everything that was erased. The migraines will subside eventually,” Jongho assured you, his voice calm and steady. 

“In the meantime, get plenty of rest and no strenuous activities. I do hope you enjoy your time off from the shop, my lady.”

As he spoke, his medical bag—hovering midair like it had a mind of its own—began to respond to his movements. With each flick of his wrist, instruments and vials floated back into place, reorganizing themselves with a series of smooth, mechanical clicks. With a graceful dip of his head, Jongho stepped back from you. His form shimmered, growing fainter, until all that remained was a trail of smoke curling in the air. 

You blinked at the now-empty space, rubbing your temples as the dull throb of the migraine continued to pulse beneath your skin. 

“Why do I have a feeling everyone in the magical realm knows about this outing?” you muttered, turning to face Wooyoung and Hongjoong as they made their exit from your room. 

“Word travels fast,” Wooyoung said with a shrug, his voice light and teasing. “Get some sleep.”

You offered a weak smile in response, but your mind was elsewhere. As Wooyoung moved toward the door, you glanced at Hongjoong, a knot tightening in your chest. A thousand questions swirled in your mind and you couldn’t let him leave without asking. 

“Did you know that this would happen?”

Hongjoong paused in the doorway, the usual lightness that accompanied his presence was replaced by something more somber. He exhaled slowly through his nose, leaning back slightly as if bracing himself for the conversation ahead. 

"I had my suspicions," he finally admitted, his voice softer now. "When I granted your wish, there was resistance. That’s when I realized there was a magical force tied to you—something inevitable, woven by Fate herself."

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, confused. 

“There’s no way I could go against anything predetermined by destiny,” he replied. “I must say, Yunho’s desire to set you free probably surprised the emporium itself,” he added, almost as an afterthought, as if that part had surprised even him. 

You let out a breath, trying to absorb the weight of his words. There was so much you still didn’t understand—so much you wished he had told you before—but part of you recognized the truth in what he said. Fate had its own rules, its own way of working, and no matter how much you fought it, some things were simply destined to happen.

Hongjoong gave you a small, knowing smile then, his tone shifting back to its usual playful cadence. “You should rest before your getaway this weekend,” he teased, his eyes glinting mischievously as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Wouldn’t want you getting sick during your date with Yunho, would we?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in mood. “It’s not a date,” you sputtered, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. But Hongjoong just raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening.

“Sure, sure,” he drawled, clearly unconvinced. “You two are just going to the beach, alone, for the weekend…no date at all.”

Hongjoong left, closing the door to your room with a quiet, final click. The sound echoed in the stillness, and you slumped under the covers, your body heavy with the weight of what he had just revealed. 

The truth was overwhelming. How could you possibly make sense of it all? How could you begin to reconcile the life you thought you knew, with the life you had apparently lived before entering the emporium? You couldn’t even remember that version of yourself, and the moments that had shaped the bond between you and Yunho. 

All you had were vague impressions and fleeting feelings that left you both terrified and comforted.

⋆

"I can do this," you whispered to yourself, your fingers trembling slightly as you held the door of the emporium open. The familiar scent of jasmine incense and old books wafted from behind you, mixing with the sharper, vibrant smells of the world outside. 

You glanced out the wide-open door, the sunlight streaming in like an invitation. It felt like the edge of a cliff, daring you to leap into the unknown. Beyond that door is the chaotic, bustling human world—the one you've watched but never stepped into since becoming the emporium’s keeper. 

"The shop isn’t going to stop you," Wooyoung chirped from his seat in the counter, legs swinging slightly with a lollipop in his mouth. "It’s rude to keep Yunho waiting," he added, the teasing edge replaced with something more sincere. 

You opened your mouth to protest, the words forming on your tongue before you could stop them. "But—"

"There are no buts!" he interrupted, his voice louder now, impatient. "Are you seriously going to keep the love of your life waiting, or what?" He raised an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look as if daring you to argue.

Your cheeks flushed at his boldness, and you crossed your arms, grumbling under your breath, "He’s not–"

Wooyoung chuckled, shaking his head as he waved a hand dismissively. "Fine, fine," he relented, though his grin only widened. 

"Your soulmate, then."

You shot him a glare, but there was no denying the way your heart leaped at the word. Soulmate. It felt heavy and loaded with meaning and expectations you weren’t ready to face. Yet at the same time, you yearned for it. Despite your hesitations, there was something in you that craved the connection with Yunho. That craved him. You loved Yunho in a way that felt deeper than you had ever known. It was more than just affection, more than just a desire to be near him—it was as though your very being resonated with his.

Yunho took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His eyes flickered to the door of the emporium for what felt like the hundredth time in the last few minutes. He couldn’t help but feel like a teenager waiting for his crush, that same flutter of nervous energy coursing through him. 

His hand tightened slightly on the roof of the car as he spotted movement at the door. There you were, lingering at the entrance, hesitating. His heart gave a little jump at the sight of you. Despite the anxiety buzzing in his chest, just seeing you—standing there–made everything seem a little more bearable.

He stepped around the car, worried that you would change your mind. His breath caught in his throat as your gaze flickered to meet his. For a moment, he thought you might turn back, retreating to the safety of the shop’s shadows. But instead, you stood still, eyes searching his face for reassurance.

"You’ve come this far. Don’t let fear hold you back now," Hongjoong encouraged from behind the counter. 

Your heart calmed as you focused on Yunho. You can do this. You have to. The shop isn’t trying to stop you. There’s no invisible force dragging you back. Yunho's steady gaze promised that nothing bad will happen once you take that first step.

His soft, patient smile and presence alone made the unknown seem less daunting. He’s the thread that pulled you toward something tangible, something real. No matter how deep the emporium’s magic runs, Yunho was your tether to the world outside.

And then, you stepped forward.

You took a deep breath, the air outside smelling fresher than you remembered. Slowly, you lifted one foot and placed it on the sidewalk beyond the emporium’s threshold. The pavement beneath your shoe felt real—solid and grounding. You waited for a pull, some magical force yanking you back into the safety of the shop, but nothing came.

You took another step, then another. The bustling sounds of the city—cars, chatter, life—gradually filled your ears as the magic of the emporium faded into the background. For the first time in what feels like forever, you were standing on the other side of that threshold.

Free.

You paused and glanced back at the shop. Its door remained closed behind you, quiet, as if respecting your choice to leave, even just for a little while. 

You exhaled, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and a small smile tugs at your lips. "I... I’m free," you whisper to yourself, the excitement of the realization coursing through your veins.

“Hey,” he said gently as he stopped in front of you. His hand rested on your arm, grounding you in the moment. “You okay?” His voice was so tender, as if he was afraid you might change your mind at the last second.

"I’m okay," you murmured, your smile growing. "I just...I can’t believe I can leave the shop whenever I want to." The words felt foreign on your tongue, but at the same time, they carried so much truth, you couldn’t help but feel giddy.

“You did it,” he said softly, pride evident in his voice. His hand slid down to take yours, fingers gently intertwining with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah…same,” you breathed, meeting his gaze. 

You ready?” he asked, but his tone was playful now, the anxiety replaced with a light-heartedness that made you giggle.

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling the excitement bubbling up again. 

“Then let’s get out of here.”

Without letting go of your hand, Yunho gave it a gentle tug, leading you toward the car. As you slid into the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but feel the thrill of anticipation fluttering in your chest. 

“Young love,” Wooyoung sighed dramatically, watching with a fond smile as you and Yunho drove off.  

Hongjoong, however, wasn’t having it. He stood with his arms crossed, brow furrowed like a disapproving father watching his daughter head out on her first date. His narrowed eyes were fixed on the fading car.

"Is this what it’s come to?" he muttered, shaking his head. "Watching her drive off into the sunset, with Yunho?”

"Relax, Dad," Wooyoung teased, the playful tone only making Hongjoong huff in response. "Something tells me they’ll be just fine."

You and Yunho arrived late in the afternoon, the golden hues of the setting sun casting a warm glow over everything as the ocean breeze gently tousled your hair. The air was filled with that familiar, salty tang of the sea, and for a moment, it felt like stepping into a memory—even if you couldn’t quite remember it.

Yunho pulled into the driveway of a cozy seaside cottage, the kind that felt like it had been there forever.

"This is where we stayed during the summer as kids," he said softly, glancing over at you with a hopeful smile. 

"I thought that by coming here, it might help with your memories."

The little house, the ocean just beyond, the faint sound of seagulls in the distance—it all felt strangely familiar, like a dream you couldn’t fully grasp. But more than anything, it was the warmth in Yunho’s voice, the gentle way he was looking at you, that made you feel…safe.

You smiled at him, feeling the tenderness in his words. He had brought you here with hope in his heart, thinking it might spark something within you. 

“I appreciate it, really,” you replied, offering him a small smile. “Even if I can’t remember everything, I know that this is at least a start.”

Yunho’s eyes softened as he held your gaze, his expression full of quiet understanding. Whatever you couldn’t remember didn’t seem to matter in this moment. Being here with him felt…right.

But then, the spell was broken by the sudden sound of his stomach gurgling loudly. He blinked, his eyes widening in surprise as the unmistakable noise of his stomach made itself known. His cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink, and before he could stop himself, he let out a sheepish laugh, the sound breaking through the tension. 

“Let’s unload, and then we can grab something to eat,” he suggested, his voice as casual as if you’d done this a hundred times before. “I know a place.”

As the two of you strolled through the quaint town, Yunho pointed out all the spots where you used to visit.

"That’s the ice cream shop we went to every summer. You always got matcha, even though you’d end up stealing my salted caramel," he teased, nudging you playfully as you passed the familiar storefront.

You laughed, the image of a younger you doing exactly that playing in your mind. "We should stop by for dessert, except maybe this time I’ll have the salted caramel.”

A little further down the road, Yunho’s eyes lit up as he pointed toward the boardwalk. "And there," he said, his voice softening, "that’s where you won the puppy plush." His smile turned fond, his gaze lingering on the spot. 

“You were so determined to win it, and somehow beat the system on your first try. You were pretty good at shooting.”

Something about the way he spoke, the way his eyes sparkled with the memory, made your heart swell. You could almost picture it—your younger self, beaming with pride, clutching that puppy plush as if it were the greatest prize in the world.

As the evening rolled in, you found yourselves at a little restaurant by the beach front. You sat across from each other, as Yunho guided you through the fragments of memories that slowly began to feel less distant. He painted vivid pictures of your childhood, his voice warm and full of fondness for those simpler days. 

“We used to spend entire afternoons at each other’s houses,” he began, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Most of those days were either trying to stop Gunho from doing something stupid or helping your dad grow the ultimate vegetable.” His eyes grew distant, like he was reliving each memory as he spoke.

There was a certain magic in those days, when the biggest concern was who would win the next game or who could build the tallest fort. It was a time before the weight of growing up had set in.

“And baseball.” He chuckled. “Baseball was always there, too. I’d always insist on batting while you pitched because you had the better arm. You never missed.” He glanced at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a knowing grin. 

Yunho’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief as he continued, “You tried convincing me that the Samsung Lions were better than the Tigers. I think it’s the only real argument we had as kids.” 

“I think blue still looks better on you.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and for a moment, you weren’t sure why you said it. Maybe you had told him the same exact thing before.

Yunho’s expression softened as he continued. “You know, you were a great artist,” he began, his voice tinged with admiration.

“Every time there was a school festival or some club event, it was always the same—everyone would come running to you, asking for help with posters or signs.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “But you’d always turn them down,” he said, shaking his head as though the memory amused him.

“You’d tell them you were busy, then you’d go right back to drawing in that journal of yours. I used to think you were hiding something in there.”

The mention of the journal stirred something deep inside you, a sense of loss that clung to the edges of your mind. You had always been protective of it, guarding it like it held the most important pieces of yourself. But now, the very thought of it brought a dull ache that began forming behind your eyes, slow and insistent. You pressed a hand to your temple, trying to will the discomfort away, but the memories came flooding back, vivid and cruel.

Sungjae flipped through the pages with exaggerated movements, revealing sketch after sketch of Yunho. “Look at this!” he laughed, his voice dripping with mockery as he showed Yunho your illustrations. 

“You’ve got a whole gallery dedicated to him!” He turned to face you, your cheeks burning with fury. “What are you, obsessed with him or something?”

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Yunho’s voice was filled with worry as it pulled you back from the memory. His hand hovered near yours, unsure but ready to offer comfort if needed.

You blinked hard, trying to steady yourself, but the edges of your vision wavered, and you could feel the tears threatening to spill over. You nodded even though the pain was still there, pounding in your head. 

“I…I’m fine,” you lied, grabbing your glass of water. “It’s just a headache,” you added quickly, trying to explain away the unease. “I’m probably dehydrated.”

Yunho’s brow furrowed, his eyes searching your face for any sign of the truth. “Do you want to head back?” he asked, his voice soft, careful, like he didn’t want to push you but didn’t want to ignore the obvious either.

You hesitated, the throbbing pain in your head clouding your thoughts. Part of you wanted to leave, to escape the growing tension and the memories that had started to unravel inside you. But another part of you didn’t want to cut the night short. Being here with Yunho felt like you were on the verge of something—something you couldn’t even name yet. 

“I’ll be okay,” you finally said, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “We can stay a little longer. I still want ice cream.” You tried to sound lighthearted, but you knew the effort was only half-convincing.

Yunho’s lips pressed into a thin line as he studied you for a moment longer, clearly unconvinced. But he nodded, his concern evident in the way his hand hovered near yours, like he was ready to catch you at any moment. 

“Alright,” he said quietly, “but let me know if it gets worse and we can leave, okay?”

⋆

There was something timeless about the way Yunho looked, as if the universe had carefully crafted every detail. The way his dark hair fell slightly into his puppy-like eyes, soft and warm, gave him a boyish charm. His lips curved ever so slightly, as if he was always on the verge of a smile, and you couldn’t help but feel as if he was meant to be…yours.

You glanced over at him, watching the way the fading sunlight settled across his features. He looked peaceful, his eyes fixed on the horizon, but there was a gentleness in it that made your heart flutter.

He must have felt your gaze on him, because he turned his head slightly, catching your eyes with a small, knowing smile. There was something playful in the way he looked at you, like he knew exactly what you were thinking but was content to wait for you to say it.

“Enjoying the view?”

You felt a blush creep up your neck, and you smiled back, trying to play it cool.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, “it’s not bad, I guess.”

There had been moments recently—small, fleeting things. The way he would look at you for just a second longer than before, the way his touch seemed more intentional, more deliberate. And you had felt it too, this slow, quiet shift. But you weren’t sure what it meant, and a part of you was afraid to ask, afraid to break whatever fragile thing had been building between you.

"How’s your head?" he asked, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves. 

“The migraine is gone. Probably thanks to the ice cream.”

“Must be the magic of the salted caramel,” he teased. 

You let out a soft laugh, but as the sound faded, you could feel the weight of unspoken thoughts settling between you, unsure whether to say what was on your mind or let the moment pass. Without fully thinking, you blurted out, 

“Do you…believe in soulmates?”

The instant the words left your mouth, you felt a wave of panic. Your face flushed with embarrassment as your hand flew to your mouth. Yunho blinked, surprised by your sudden question. There was a pause, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he smiled softly, the expression both tender and thoughtful.

“Soulmates, huh?” He tilted his head slightly, looking at you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were the only person in the world. “Why do you ask?”

You scoffed, feeling a little flustered. “Wooyoung mentioned something about us being soulmates once.” You rolled your eyes at the memory, trying to lighten the moment. “I thought he was being ridiculous.”

“Well,” Yunho said, his voice dropping slightly as he leaned in closer to you, “maybe he’s not so far off.”

Wait, what?

“When I’m with you, everything just…makes sense,” he began, the words heavy with meaning, like they had been weighing on him for far too long. He let out a slow breath, as if finally releasing a burden he’d been carrying for years.

“The night I showed up at the shop,” he continued, his voice quiet but clear, “I was desperate. I wanted a fresh start—a chance to rewrite everything because every choice I’d made felt wrong. I was miserable, I didn’t know who I was anymore, or what I wanted.”

He paused, searching your eyes, as if looking for reassurance, for a sign that you understood what he was trying to say. And you did. 

“But then…” His voice dropped lower, filled with a quiet awe that made your heart ache. “I found my way back to you. And after a series of twists and turns and some bullying from Wooyoung, I just knew…I couldn’t let you go again.” He reached out, thumb brushing tenderly over the back of your hand, the touch gentle but full of meaning. 

“If soulmates are real,” he whispered, his voice catching slightly, “then I’d like to think you’re mine.”

This was the deepest truth Yunho knew. There was no one else, and for him, there never could be.

“Yunho–”

Yunho squeezed your hand gently, as if grounding himself in the moment. His eyes, earnest and full of emotion, never left yours. “You don’t have to say anything right now,” he murmured, his voice steady but tender. 

“To be fair, I don’t think I’d be able to handle the rejection. But! I-I don’t want to push you, because I want you to know that I’ll wait. As long as it takes. Because…” His voice cracked ever so slightly as brought the back of your hand to his lips.

“It will always be you,” he confessed, so quietly it was as if the words were meant just for you to hear.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the weight of his words left you speechless. As your gaze met his, you found yourself caught in the pull of his eyes. And then you saw it—the sincerity, the vulnerability, the hope, all laid bare just for you.

You and Yunho walked back inside, the quiet comfort of the evening settling around you. As you reached the door to your room, you shared a small smile, both of you trying to hide the reluctance to say goodnight.

"I’ll...see you tomorrow," you murmured, as you gave a half-hearted wave from the doorway.

"Yeah…see you tomorrow," he whispered, his heart fluttering as you closed the door behind you.

But as the door clicked shut, you hesitated, your hand still gripping the handle, unable to let go. You stood there for a moment, that invisible thread tugging at you. Was he still out there? The thought crept in, and with it, an undeniable ache—the need to stay in his presence, even just for a moment longer.

With a deep breath, you slowly turned the handle and pulled the door open, half-expecting to find only the quiet emptiness of the hallway. But there he was, standing right where you left him, as if he hadn’t been able to leave either. Your eyes met, the air between you thick with anticipation, neither of you daring to move. 

Then, without saying a word, Yunho stepped closer, and you did too, closing the distance between you. 

The kiss started soft, tentative, as if testing whether this was the right choice. But when his hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer, something inside you broke free. You kissed him because you needed to, because you wanted to. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it wasn’t—but right now, none of that mattered. All that mattered was Yunho, and this moment you had right now.

Yunho backed you up against the edge of the bed, his presence overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. His hands settled at your waist, firm yet gentle, guiding you until your legs hit the mattress behind you. You stumbled slightly, falling back onto the soft sheets, your breath hitching in your throat as you looked up at him, heart pounding with anticipation.

His hand trailed up your side, fingers brushing against your skin, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. He leaned down, his body hovering just above yours, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, but still not touching. Without hesitation, his lips found the juncture of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your jaw. Each kiss was deliberate, lingering just long enough to make your heart race, your body responding to his ministrations. 

You let out a soft mewl, barely aware of the sound leaving your throat, as his fingers found the hem of your shirt, teasingly brushing against your skin. In one smooth motion, Yunho lifted your shirt, pulling it overhead without breaking contact, his lips never leaving your skin for more than a second.

“This is what you’ve been hiding from me?” he murmured, voice low as he trailed his hand up your stomach to brush the underside of your breast. Your back arched off the bed when he flicked his thumb over your nipple, drawing circles before squeezing. 

"Shut up," you playfully smacked his chest, your voice teasing despite the heat rising between you. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, before tilting his head and capturing your lips in a kiss, deep and urgent this time, as if he couldn’t bear even a second of distance between you.

“It’s not fair you’re still dressed,” you pouted in between kisses, reaching for his button down. 

You hastily unbuttoned the shirt, pushing the garment off his shoulders, and it fell to the floor with a light thud. His hand came to grip your jaw, thumb pressing into the underside of your chin, tilting it upwards. Your lips met, and he nipped your bottom lip, tongue slipping past your teeth. You let out a breathy moan, eyes fluttering closed as you felt him press his erection against your clothed core. 

“Yunho, please,” you whimpered, hands grasping at his trousers. Your hands were shaking too much to unbuckle it, so he pushed your hands away, swiftly undoing it himself.

“Please what?” he mocked, kicking off his trousers to bite down on your nipple with a wet pop. He smirked at your flushed face as his fingers trailed down your stomach, teasingly dipping below the hem of your underwear. He leaned back, tugging off the fabric that separated you, and you felt heat creep up your neck and face at the way he licked his lips.

“I need you.” 

"Not yet," he hummed, refusing to give you what you craved except for a light smack against the underside of your ass. “Wanna taste what I’ve been missing.”

He hooked his fingers over your panties under the waistband of your shorts and pulled them off in one motion. He pushed your thighs apart, spreading you open as his lips descended to devour your heat. He groaned as his tongue made contact with your heat, savoring your very essence. The vibrations caused you to squirm, but Yunho held you still. He continued to lick at your heat, tongue dipping into your hole, then dragging up to press against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your breath hitched as you watched him, mouth falling open in a silent moan. A string of praises slipped past your lips, as his tongue pressed into your slit, nose brushing against your clit.

“Fuck,” you breathed, looking down at Yunho lapping at your folds. The sight of him between your legs was almost enough to send you over the edge as a weak, shaky moan escaped your lips. But you didn’t want to come undone without him inside of you. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, pulling him away from your dripping cunt. You yanked him towards you, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue. The tip of his cock brushed against you, and your entire body tensed with need. 

"I love you," he confessed, his hand intertwined with yours, fingers locking together as if anchoring himself to you in that moment. 

He leaned down for another kiss, groaning against your mouth as he pushed into you. The stretch of his thick cockhead had your back arching off the bed, and Yunho moved one hand to grab your ass, keeping you in place as he slid all the way inside you.

"Yunho!" you gasped, your walls fluttering around him as your head pressed back into the pillows. His hips pulled back slowly, almost all the way, before thrusting forward and seating himself deep. He repeated the movement, and you couldn't help the sounds that fell from your mouth as you felt him thrust in and out of you.

He pressed chaste kisses to your chest, your neck, anywhere his mouth could reach. Your arms tightened around his shoulders, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every part of him, every heartbeat. Yunho shifted positions, bringing one of your legs hooked around his waist over his shoulder, increasing his pace, where you suddenly found yourself teetering on the edge as you clenched around him.

“Like that, Yunho just like that!”

"Feel so good," he grunted, his hips snapping forward harder, faster and the pressure in your core grew. “So good for me.” 

Your mouth hung open as you could barely focus on anything Yunho was saying. Your face twisted with pleasure and your legs shuddered against his shoulder. “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you cried out, barely contain the noises escaping your lips and Yunho was relishing every second of it.

"Come for me, love.” His breath mingled with yours as he brought his forehead to rest gently against yours, the closeness heightening the intensity of the moment. “I’ve got you.”

Your vision blurred at the edges, a wave of overwhelming pleasure consumed you as you rode out your orgasm on Yunho's cock. Every nerve in your body was alive, sparking with sensations that came together, making it impossible to focus on anything but the sheer ecstasy surging through you. Yunho’s hips stuttered against your ass as his own release followed, groaning into your ear as he filled you completely to the brim. 

The only sound in the room was the ragged rhythm of your breathing, mingling with his as Yunho pressed his forehead to the nape of your neck. The feeling of him inside you, so intimate and real, like finally grasping something you’d been reaching for in the dark. 

The man who had haunted your dreams, who had lived in the corners of your mind and heart for so long, was now here. With you. 

⋆

You crept out of the room, careful not to disturb Yunho as he slept beside you. The warmth of his body still lingered on your skin as you slipped from the bed, the sheets rustling softly as you pulled them away. You hesitated for a moment, watching him—so peaceful, so unaware of the turmoil swirling inside you. 

Another migraine. Another memory resurfacing.

The cool night air hit you the moment you stepped outside, a welcome contrast to the heat that had built up in your chest. You inhaled deeply, the salty air filling your lungs as you made your way down to the shore. 

The image struck you like lightning—a flash of a distant life, one of many you had shared with Yunho. You stumbled slightly, gripping your head as the pain intensified. 

Your eyes filled with tears as you looked at him, feeling the weight of his indifference. “Are you seriously telling me that your girlfriend’s shitty friend matters more than me? You don’t even like him, Yunho!”

Yunho looked away, his jaw set in a hard line. “Haewon’s friends are important to her, and I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

A bitter laugh escaped you, but it quickly turned into a choked sob. “So fuck my feelings, right?” you said, your voice trembling as tears streamed down your face. “You’d rather protect that asshole than stand up for me?”

Yunho’s eyes finally met yours, but they were empty, cold, devoid of the warmth you once knew. ��She’s my girlfriend, Y/N. I have to prioritize her!” He spat, his voice growing harsher. “And maybe if you weren’t such a loser, always clinging to that stupid journal, you wouldn’t be in this mess! You’re so embarrassing, it’s pathetic.”

You felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under you. The words cut deep, each one a dagger to your heart. You took a shaky breath, the pain piercing through you. 

Your body trembled, curling in on itself instinctively as the memories, once forgotten, now surfaced with brutal clarity. Cold sweat broke out across your skin as you gasped for breath, each inhale shaky and uneven. Everything came crashing back, the hurt, the anger, the loneliness—and the emptiness that followed your disappearance. 

The night you disappeared—the fight, the cruel words Yunho had thrown at you—replayed over and over in your mind. He had blamed you, walked away, and in doing so, left you to unravel alone. 

Now, doubt began to cloud your thoughts, creeping in slowly, suffocating, making you question everything that had happened earlier that evening, and all your interactions with Yunho before. The confusion was maddening, and you felt yourself sinking into a pit of despair, unsure if you could ever climb out.

Yunho's arm instinctively reached out for you, but his fingers brushed against the empty sheets where your warmth should have been. Panic settled in and he shot up in bed, his eyes frantically scanning the room. 

You were gone.

For a split second, he froze, his mind racing with a dozen possibilities. But before he could think, he scrambled out of bed, barely pausing to put on clothes as he rushed toward the door. His eyes darted across the horizon, searching desperately until they finally landed on you, sitting quietly by the edge of the beach. 

Without a second thought, he made his way toward you, his footsteps quiet on the sand as he approached. He knelt down beside you, the tension in his body easing the moment he was close enough to feel your presence again. 

“You scared me,” he murmured softly, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. His hand found its way to your back, rubbing slow, comforting circles. “I woke up, and you were gone.”

You turned your head slightly, offering him a small smile, though there was a quietness in your eyes that hadn't been there before. “Sorry,” you whispered. 

“I’ve been having these migraines,” you sighed, leaning into Yunho’s touch. “Makes it hard to sleep.”

Yunho frowned, concern etched deeply into his features, and you felt his thumb gently caress your cheek before he pressed a kiss against your temple.

“They come in flashes like episodes from the past. I don’t really know how to explain it, but the most recent one…was with you.” You paused, gauging Yunho’s reaction, but he remained silent.

Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence between you growing thick and heavy. This wasn’t how you had imagined this moment. This was supposed to be a chance to reconnect, but instead, it felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, one wrong step away from falling into an abyss.

“You told me that I was everything to you,” you finally said, the bitterness creeping into your tone despite your best efforts to stay calm. “So when were you going to tell me the truth?”

Yunho’s eyes widened as if the ground had suddenly given way beneath him. His lips parted, but no words followed—just the sound of his shallow, uneven breathing as the reality of what was happening settled in. His reckoning had come.

Your memories had returned.  

"Tell me," you demanded, voice trembling with the weight of years of pent-up anger and hurt, "were you ever going to tell me the truth about how fucking horrible you were to me?”

"Y/N.” There was a desperate, pleading look in his eyes, hoping that somehow, you would understand that he regretted everything—every word, every action, every painful second of his silence that night.

“Please…just let me explain. I–" His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists, trying to steady himself. "I never meant for it to go that far. It was wrong of me to take it out on you. I didn’t know–"

"You didn’t know how to what?” you interrupted, voice rising. “How to stand by me when I needed you?"

"You left me, Yunho. You blamed me, doubled downed on me, and called me pathetic.”

Yunho winced as if the memory physically pained him. “Y/N, I didn’t mean it,” he choked out, his voice barely holding steady.

“I’m so sorry—God, I’m so sorry. I’d take it all back if I could.”

You let out a hollow laugh, the sound devoid of any warmth. “Didn’t mean it?” Your eyes burned with a fury that had been waiting for this moment. “You didn’t care enough to mean it.”

Yunho recoiled again, eyes wide, his breathing shallow. His mouth opened, but no words came—just the unbearable silence between you.

“Some shit friend you turned out to be,” you continued, your rage impossible to contain.

“You cared more about what they thought of you than standing up for me. You let me take the fall because you were too scared—too scared of what people would think if they saw you defending someone like me. Someone who didn’t fit into their perfect little world of what was acceptable.”

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he began, voice rough with emotion. “And I’ll always regret that I wasn’t the person you needed me to be. I let you down, and I’ve spent every moment since thinking about that night.” 

“You regret it?” you spat, your voice quivering with disbelief. “That’s it? You regret it, and now what? We just pretend that’s enough? That I’d move on like you didn’t tear me apart?” 

You paused, your breath ragged as you struggled to keep your emotions in check, but the weight of the moment was too much, the years of buried hurt and confusion rising to the surface as tears blurred your vision. 

“I loved you, Yunho. I loved you so much, I would have done anything for you. But I realized that no matter how connected we are. No matter how many dreams or lifetimes I see you in, you never changed for me. But for others, you did.”

Yunho’s face paled, the color draining as your words hit him like a blow. It was as if everything he believed about fate—about you and him—was suddenly crumbling beneath him. His breath quickened, and he searched your face, desperately trying to find something, anything, that would reassure him this wasn’t happening. That this wasn’t the moment he lost you.

“I was never going to run from this,” he replied, his voice soft, but no less urgent. "I’m scared because I don’t want to lose you, but I’m not trying to pretend like it didn’t happen. I know I hurt you. I know I fucked up.” His words came fast, desperate, as though if he spoke them quickly enough, they could stop you from leaving. 

“I’ll face everything—the mistakes I made, the way I hurt you. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make it right. I’ll do anything."

You turned to face him fully, the ache in your chest growing sharper with every second that passed. It would be so easy to give in, to let his desperation pull you back into his arms. But the thought of always wondering if he would ever truly choose you, was a weight too heavy to carry.

Tears blurred your vision, spilling over before you could stop them, and you could no longer hold back the sobs that had been building in your chest. Your shoulders shook as the dam finally broke, and the pain of everything you’d held inside came pouring out.

“I wanted nothing more than to think that we were meant for each other," you choked through the tears, the words barely audible between sobs. "That Fate was pulling us back together, that all of this was just part of our destiny, and that we’d be together." 

You paused, trying to steady your voice as the emotions surged. “But love shouldn’t feel like this…like something I’m always waiting for, only to be heartbroken over and over again.”

Your heart clenched, the ache almost unbearable as you fought to hold yourself together. But you had to let the words out, the one thing that had been tormenting your soul for what felt like lifetimes.

“If you’re willing to do anything… anything,” your voice broke as fresh tears streamed down your cheeks, your breath hitching between sobs. 

“Then let me go.”

<< vi | viii >>

a/n: just two more chapters and then the epilogue to go :D

taglist: @babymbbatinygirl @intowxnderland @hwasa28 @thedistractedwriter @beabatiny @lovelyglares @spenceatiny18 @tiny-apocalypse @sunnysidesins @heyitsmetonid @jwone @laurenwidjaja @potatos-on-clouds @xuchiya @syubseokie @jonghosbrainrot

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

For The First Time

Summary; Closed off older Eddie, slightly cynical, bit of a fuckboi who falls in love for the first time with you.

Bits of angst, mostly fluff and a lot of Smut, reader falls first and thinks Eddie doesn't feel the same, he falls harder. 18+ minors go away. Modern au

Older Eddie Munson x Reader

The reader is in her 20's and Eddie is 41.

If you enjoyed this then pls consider liking or reblogging ❤️✨🌸

I don't give anyone permission to copy, repost or translate my work.

❤️

Eddie takes the beer Steve hands to him and nurses it for a little while. He's exhausted after working on a car all week and his last hook-up with a woman called Sarah? Sasha? Two weeks ago.

Fuck, he can't even remember. He didn't make it a habit to be with the same woman for too long, they would try to get to know him, get him to open up about life and things he never wanted to discuss.

It's not like he disliked the women he was with, he liked them and had fun but that was that. He made it clear that nothing more was to come from it.

The only thing that was troubling him is someone had caught his eye, a friend of Nancy's who worked with her on the biggest newspaper in Indiana.

Yn was your name and he hadn't been able to stop thinking about you and your tight little skirt all day.

He met you a few days ago at a party Steve and Nancy had thrown for their son's 10th birthday.

You were shy, yes but after talking to him for a bit you began to relax and let your guard down.

Fuck, you even made him laugh and he can't remember the last time that he's enjoyed talking to someone so much.

Not only were you funny and smart, but you were also beautiful and a sweetheart. It stunned him that he was keen on speaking to you again.

He just doesn't know quite how to approach you.

Turns out though that you were in your apartment. Thinking of the very same thing

💕

The next time you meet the chemistry again is off the charts, you can't help thinking about how sexy Eddie is.

You know he's older but you don't care, you've never been so attracted to a guy in your life.

He moves with confidence and knows he's the hottest guy in the room, leather jacket and jeans, rings adorning his hand and a smirk on his face.

Yeah, he knows he's hot shit.

Nancy can see straight away that your crushing on Eddie.

"He's a great guy but he's a bit of a fuckboi so just be careful okay?" you nod and assure her that you'll be fine.

He's hot but it's not like you'd fall in love with him or anything and you approach Eddie even though nerves are racing in your stomach.

His eyes light up when he sees you and you immediately start chatting.

It's like the first time you got talking where you immediately feel at ease with him, except now the way you look at each other is more intense and its obvious how much you both want each other.

When he asks if you would like to talk somewhere a little more private you agree.

Though not much talking was done at all as the minute that you reached Eddie's place and you were inside, it's like all the tension between you boiled over and he backed you up against the wall claiming your mouth in a searing kiss.

Your clothes fall away as you head upstairs, Eddie tossing his jeans to the side and kneeling down to kiss over your stomach and between your thighs.

Your hands tighten around his hair which he sweeps into a messy bun. He looks so hot that you almost combust right there and then.

His lips are everywhere on your body, hands cupping your breasts, mouth closing over your nipples and you moan.

"You're perfect" he growls out as he looks up at you through thick lashes and those big brown eyes are darker than usual, full of need and desire.

All you want to do is feel every inch of Eddie, and you do having him at your mercy as he stands up to kiss you and you drop to your knees, losing all your previous shyness and wink at him.

The look on his face, the little Oh his lips form as you suck him off imprints in your mind.

He's moaning, begging for you to take him deeper and when you do he loses all control, his eyes closing, veins throbbing at his neck as he comes hard, you lick up every drop and he watches you do it with a hungry expression.

By that point, you are both desperate for him to be inside you and he lays you on the bed. Your bodies entwined.

Eddie sheaths inside you and his head throws back as he moans in pleasure.

"Fuck baby, I love how tight you are, feel so good" he grunts out and thinks that he could lose himself being buried inside you forever, the feeling of you clenched around him was more intense than anything he felt in his life.

He comes hard and fast again, a guttural moan escaping from his mouth that joins your fervent cries of his name as you come.

"So fucking mind-blowing princess, he coos, I hope you know that I'm not finished with you yet"

The biggest smile lights up your face and you giggle.

"I hope not, think you can keep up with me old man?" you tease and he laughs... Oh, he'll show you...

❤️

Eddie and you meet very frequently, he can't get enough of you and you can't stop thinking about him.

It was the best sex both of you ever had and you loved the feel of Eddie's head between your thighs.

Or when you sucked him off and he looked at you like you were a goddess, that was pretty good too.

He made a point to tell you early into your relationship, fling? Whatever it was - that he hadn't been in love before so this would be strictly physical.

A friends with benefits type of thing, which you were fine with because you didn't want to stop seeing Eddie, you liked being around him.

"Don't you want to fall in love?" your curious to know after he tells you all of this and his big brown eyes lock with yours, there's a vulnerable edge to them that you haven't seen before but just as you're about to say something, he shakes his head.

"No, I don't. Now sweetheart. Enough talking. I'd rather have you naked and at my mercy" He kisses you and you forget about the conversation soon after.

❤️

Eddie's naked body is entwined with yours and your hands trail over his tattoos, move to trail over the scars on his body but before you can touch them he flips you over and has you on all fours.

His fingers knead your ass and he smirks.

"Fucking gorgeous" he moans and you feel so overstimulated but Eddie's voice in your ear is spurring you on just a little bit more.

"Come on princess, think we can do one more orgasm huh?" he croons and you feel one building fast as he fucks into you relentlessly.

The orgasm makes your knees buckle and you cry out in pleasure, Eddie tilts your head back so he can kiss you, his moans of ecstasy filling the room as he comes, spilling inside of you.

"That's my sweet girl" he coos and his lips brush against your neck as he pulls out of you and you curl up on his bed.

You're exhausted, legs like jelly and completely happy and sated though a little sore.

Eddie's bed looks so inviting and it smells like his cologne, like he's wrapping you in a big hug.

Eddie watches you for a second with a small smile on his face, his fingers caress over your hair for a brief moment and the tender touch startles both of you.

He clears his throat and moves away and you secretly wish he could keep doing it.

"You can stay here sweetheart. Have a ton of work to do for a clients motorcycle and shit" You nod sleepily but capture his hand before he leaves.

''Can you stay? Just for a little while?" you don't think he will say yes but you just wanted to ask.

For a second he looks hesitant then he agrees which elates you.

"Just until you fall asleep princess?" and that is fine by you, it's just lovely to cuddle into him for a little while.

"You're dangerous" he mumbles as his head rests on top of yours. His words puzzle you and you look up at him wanting to know what he means.

"Me" you whisper in disbelief and there's warmth in his eyes as he explains what he means.

"That little pout could get anything you wanted with that" he teases and you rejoice inside that he likes it.

The thought and sleepiness from all of those amazing orgasms lull you to sleep. When you wake up an hour later hes gone and you can hear him tinkering outside.

The fact he did stay with you for a little while though is enough to send you back to sleep with a big smile on your face.

❤️

A little while after that night, something in your relationship shifts again. The first time he stayed the night.

You hadn't expected him to stay. Not really, yet he did and you find yourself enchanted by Eddie when he's asleep, all of his defences down, peaceful.

Eddie lays on his stomach fast asleep, he's out for the count and his long limbs are sprawled across the bed, one of them entwined with yours.

He shifts a little and gives you a view of his chest.

Subconsciously your hand trails gently over a large scar of his, there are a few scars or scar tissue on his body and you want to ask what happened for him to get these marks.

You want to ask but you don't because you know it's a sore subject for him. Ever so gently you place a soft kiss on the scar tissue on his chest, then the one on his neck that is hidden by a tattoo.

When you look up at him he's watching you his gaze slowly turning gentle.

"What are you doing?" his voice is low, sleepy and sexy, it makes you tingle.

"Kissing you" His gaze trails down to the scar on his chest.

"My scars" he corrects you and you sit up, wanting to reassure him.

"I know you don't talk about them. Just wanted to give you kisses" He grins, then chuckles.

"Could you be any fucking cuter?" he asks you and it makes you feel giddy then he's silent for a moment before speaking again.

"I was attacked by bats princess" Bats? You raise an eyebrow.

"Vampire bats?" he motions for you to sit between his thighs, your head rested on his chest.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, baby, I haven't told this story to anyone in over twenty years" This intrigues you even more and you turn around and cup his cheek with your hand.

"I'm a good listener, try me" and so he did tell you, after you promised you would never tell anyone else. That's when you found out about the Upside Down, interdimensional monsters, demogorgons, demobats and Vecna.

"Like Freddy Krueger but real and more terrifying sweetheart"

You find out he was wanted for the murders Vecna committed because the first girl Chrissy killed by Vecna was murdered at his trailer when she was there for a drug deal due to the visions she had been having of Him.

He tells you about how he almost died and he has nightmares about The Upside Down, it's why he doesn't stay the night with anyone.

Until now.

That's the first night you realise how deeply you're falling for him.

❤️

Time passes and you fall for Eddie more and more. However Nancy's words play in the back of your mind about him being a bit of a fuckboi.

Or his friend and Nancy's younger brother Mike's words that he's surprised you've been around for so long because Eddie grew bored easily.

The words wouldn't leave your head because Eddie warned you that he hadn't been in love before, that he didn't want to and yet here you were with your heart laid open to him.

That earned a terrifying glare from Nancy and Mike scarpered.

She apologises but the words are saying heavier and heavier on you and you wonder how long it will be before Eddie grows bored of you.

You're scared you'll fall even more in love with him the longer you continue to see each other, the thought of him moving on without a care in the world leaves you hollow and leads you to react to protect your heart.

Eddie can see how upset you are and he has you in his arms, soothing you. Kissing your head, calling you his sweet girl.

It's like you could pretend that hes in love with you too but you know that isn't possible.

"Hey, talk to me sweetheart?" he caresses your cheek and it only makes what you have to say even harder.

Why did he have to be so wonderful? You curl up into his chest for a second before you move away.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore," you tell him even though it devastated you.

His eyes widen then flash with pain or at least that's what you think because he turns away very quickly.

"Why?" there's a crack in his voice and tears pool in your eyes.

"Because I've fallen in love with you" you admit truthfully.

"What, no you can't" He looks so stunned and you feel yourself shaking, the pain you feel is agonising.

"I do love you and you don't fall in love. That's what you told me and it was pointless because I did then I had some fairytale notion that maybe you might fall in love with me. Stupid huh?"

His fingers grip the table he's leaning behind and his expression resolves.

"You deserve better than me princess" princess, the thought of him not calling you that or hearing his voice devastates you but you have to be strong.

You can't force him to feel the same way about you, feelings don't work like that.

"That's where you're wrong Eddie, you don't know how lovely you are" you walk over to him and press a tender kiss to his lips.

"Guess this is goodbye then?" you murmur and choke back the tears. He is about to say something when Steve comes in and looks between the two of you.

"Uh, what's going on?" you flee before your emotions bubble over.

Don't cry, don't cry you say in your mind over and over again and you don't. Not until your in the privacy of your home and the painful emotions swallow you whole.

❤️

Eddie doesn't need you. He doesn't, he keeps telling himself that, thinks if he says it enough times that it will sink in.

But he misses you, he wakes up to an empty bed with his sheets smelling of your perfume and there's that burst of agony in his chest again.

Steve takes him out to a bar to cheer him up but all he can think of is you.

Every woman who comes up to him is turned away because they aren't you.

He can't even think about being with anyone else because all he craves is you.

It takes one more full day of misery, where Dustin and Steve finally have enough of his moping about and Robin and Nancy encourage him to find you again so you can talk.

"Eddie stop being a dingus when it's obvious you love her too. Life's too short to not grab happiness when you find it" Robin tells him and he gets up at that point, having enough of moping around.

He does need you, the time he's spent with you has been the happiest of his life.

He wants to see you, he wants you back.

❤️

It's late at night when you hear a knock at your door, you aren't expecting anyone but figure it could be Nancy or Robin coming to check on you.

All you planned to do tonight was pig out on ice cream and watch horror movies- you were staying far far away from romance films for a little while.

Wiping your eyes you get up and answer the door.

Eddie is standing outside and he's holding a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers, ones you can tell that he picked himself that are also mixed with your favourite flowers.

"I had to see you" You take in his appearance, the stubble growing over, the way his eyes have shadows under them like he hasn't slept.

He looks like how you feel inside.

"Hi," you murmur and he half smiles.

"Can we talk?" you nod and motion for him to come in. Why was he here? Was he here to tell you he had moved on or something?,

The thought is like a vice grip on your heart, that doesn't make sense though maybe he's here to return some of your things? You had one of his shirts here.

Or maybe he misses you as much as you miss him a hopeful voice says in your head which sounds a lot like Nancy.

"I miss you" he admits straight away and you itch to cuddle him and never let go.

"I miss you too" Your voice cracks and the tears come again and hes at you at once wiping them away ever so tenderly.

"I can't do this sweetheart, I can't not have you in my life" His confession stuns you because you convinced yourself so badly that he didn't feel the same.

"You know I love you Eddie, I know I can't force you to feel the same way, I never would force you to feel the same"

His voice is soft, cracking for a second then grows stronger. "I know that but here's the thing I've fallen in love with you, sweetheart, I can't imagine my life without you in it and I don't want to. I want you and only you for the rest of my life"

"Eddie" you sob and he smiles taking your hand in his, pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

"I love you today, tomorrow and forever if you'll have me" You nod and the euphoria hits you, the feeling that this wonderful man loves and wants to be with you.

"Yes. Yes, I love you Eddie Munson" He smiles and holds you tight, lips on your forehead and a whole new world of happy possibilities blooming for the two of you.

❤️

[cuubism]

Rock Paper Scissors

Dreamling | Pre-Slash | 5.7k | AO3

Dream suddenly gripped the lapels of Hob's jacket with a startling fervor, arms stretched across the tabletop. His gaze bore into Hob's. "I beg, allow me to represent you instead." "Now what kind of man would I be if I let others fight my battles?" Hob said, prying his fingers off before his endless grip tore through the fabric. "Hard as it may be to believe, I'm actually not a bad hand at chess. Don't worry about me." "I do not find that hard to believe. However, as I have said, this is not chess. It is an intimate and punishing battle of minds." "Alright, so it's like Go Fish."

Hob gets challenged to a duel. Too bad his opponent has it out for Dream, and has no intention of playing fair.

--

the first fic I ever started writing for Dreamling a year and a half ago, then forgot about! 😂 then randomly decided to finish.

--

“ROBERT GADLING,” yelled an individual Hob had never met before in his life, “I hereby challenge you to a duel!”

Hob squinted at him. Said individual was standing across the darkened street, dressed strangely in a white tunic flecked with gold. Then again, Hob’s barometer for strange was a bit different than what was normal, so who was he to say, really.

“What?” he said.

Suddenly this person was much closer to him. Hob flinched back, but couldn’t move much, close as he was to the pub door. “We have business,” hissed his pale-suited challenger. It was a masculine figure, blond hair swished to one side, eyes like fire. 

Hob wasn’t impressed. He’d seen worse. Better, too.

“Listen, mate,” he said, “I don’t really have time for this. I’ve already got something on the books tonight. Come back tomorrow.”

He started to walk through the doorway, but the… creature?—he didn’t think it was human—grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “We have business,” it repeated.

Hob tried to shake off its hand, but its grip was like hot iron. It seared through his jacket and burned his skin. 

“What business?” he snapped. “I’m certain we’ve never met before, and my memory is actually pretty good, long as it is.”

The creature smiled, more like a baring of teeth. “You have courted those who have harmed me—and my ilk.”

“Not clearing it up at all.”

There was a sound like the swishing of a thousand ghosts, and then Dream was beside him.

Dream. How strange, still, to have a name, a history—well, sort of—to put to the face he’d circled back to over and over again for all these years. The name cut his friend into sharp relief—Hob’s shadow, finally united with the being who cast it. 

Where the pale stranger burned white-hot, Dream emanated cold. Hob had always found his friend’s cold aura strangely comforting. It didn’t feel dangerous and biting like the winter wind. Instead, it was the cold of lake water when one dove deep enough, a subtle and quiet draw to the otherworldly. 

Well. Usually it didn’t feel dangerous. Right now, it felt positively hypothermic.

Dream’s presence chilled the air until the stranger was forced to yank his hand away from Hob’s arm, shaking it out with a hiss. Hob’s breath fogged the air in front of his face, never mind that it was summer.

“Phaethon,” Dream hissed on one long, cold breath. “You are not wanted here.”

Phaethon pulled himself up haughtily. “I can go as I please. Night, or no night.”

“You may test that theory if you wish.”

Phaethon faltered, just a bit, before recovering himself. “I am here only to deliver a message. I challenge you, Robert Gadling, to a duel.” His blazing eyes flickered over to Hob, then back to Dream. “I did not believe you were one to violate the old rules of challenge, Lord of Dreams.” 

He bowed slightly. It felt mocking, which rankled Hob, who’d otherwise been keeping his cool. 

“Are you going to explain what this is about?” he said, for the third time. “I don’t appreciate being accused of things I haven’t done.”

Instead of answering, Phaethon said, “I’ve uncovered your history. There’s quite a lot of it, isn’t there? I wager it could make quite a bit of trouble for you, having all of that information turned over to certain parties. Human authorities. Occultists. Vampire hunters, they’ll love you–”

“I’m not a vampire,” Hob snapped.

“Doesn’t matter. Point is, we can do that, or, you can choose to face me directly.”

“What do you seek to gain from the challenge?” demanded Dream. He seemed to know more about what was going on here than Hob, which wasn’t comforting. Hob didn’t particularly want to get drawn into some kind of immortal creature game with obscure rules he’d end up tripping over.

Phaethon’s grin emerged one tooth at a time. “I want… your dreams.”

Hob probably should have been more troubled by this. Instead, he just frowned in confusion. “Not sure that’s in your power, mate. You’re aware who you’re talking to?”

He didn’t need to gesture to Dream looming over his shoulder.

“If you agree to the terms,” said Phaethon, a hiss like lava dripping over stone, “then the magic will bind us.” 

Dream didn’t contradict him, but his anger cooled the air until Hob felt like he was standing atop a glacier.

“I think I’ll pass,” Hob told Phaethon. “Feel free to try to reveal me. I’m good at disappearing.” 

He turned to go—

“Lord Morpheus.” Phaethon turned the beam of his gaze on him, sunlight ricocheting off ice. “Will you stand in his stead?”

Hob grit his teeth and, against his better judgment, turned back around. “Don’t bring him into this. Look, if I win your challenge, what do I get in return?”

“You may request whatever you like,” said Dream. “Such are the terms of the agreement.”

“Fine. If I win, then I want this: you never speak to or of me again. That means no threatening me, no using me to threaten anyone else, no telling anyone about me—nothing. Got it?” God, Hob just wanted to go inside and have a beer.

Phaethon gave him a little bow. “Fair enough. I accept the terms of this challenge.” 

Dream seemed aggravated; a trickle of energy, like black lightning, scurried up the back of his neck and disappeared into his hair. But he didn’t intervene.

Hob and Phaethon shook on it. Then Phaethon retreated into the shadows again, calling, “Tomorrow at midnight, Robert Gadling. I will see you then.” Then his eyes blinked out and he was gone.

Hob shuddered. Good riddance. He rather preferred his eldritch creature to that one, thanks very much.

“What was that?” he said.

Dream’s presence was warming again by small degrees. The atmosphere was now more like an industrial freezer than Antarctica. “A minor demigod.”

“Oh, minor. Alright then.” 

“They are occupied by petty troubles,” said Dream.

Hob looked at him out of the corner of his eye, but elected not to comment. 

“Come on,” he said instead, leading the way back toward the pub. “We’re supposed to be having an easy night of it, dammit!” He wasn’t about to let some minor demigod ruin his night. He never knew how many of them he would get with his friend.

Dream’s gaze lingered on the spot where Phaethon had disappeared, but eventually, like the sweeping of a long coat tail, he followed.

---

"So, a duel," Hob remarked as they sat down across from each other in the pub booth. "I admit, I haven't dueled anyone in a few centuries, but I can't imagine it'll be—”

"It is not what you are thinking of," Dream interrupted. He had folded himself into the booth seat like a stick insect trying to cram itself in a jar. It was an absurd image, the long black coat, the spindly arms on the tabletop. "It is not a fight of the physical form. It is a battle of the mind and will."

"You're going to have to elaborate."

"In such a challenge—” Dream began, but was interrupted by the arrival of a waitress, there to take their order.

"So, what can I get for you chaps?" she said brightly.

The idea of Dream being a chap was so hilarious Hob had to stifle a laugh. Yeah, maybe he wasn't taking the whole duel thing seriously enough. Oh well.

Hob ordered a beer and a plate of chips. When Dream showed no sign of speaking, he ordered for him, too.

“You can order whatever you like,” Hob told him, when the waitress had gone. “It is my pub and all.”

Dream picked up the laminated menu gingerly. It wobbled in his hands. He looked down at it with a flat expression.

Hob realized belatedly that he probably didn’t know what to order. How much had pub food changed since— God, 1910 or so? And it wasn’t like his friend would have had much time to peruse menus since, what with all he’d been up to.

“Just try the chips,” Hob said, taking the menu away from him. “We’ll see how far that gets you.” 

"I have no need of human food," Dream said, folding his hands back on the table.

“Sure, and I technically don’t need my left leg, either, but I do rather like having it.”

“You say strange things,” Dream murmured. “As I was telling you. In such a challenge—” 

The waitress returned with their drinks. Dream glowered at her. Hob thanked her brightly.

"So, you were saying?" he said, sipping his beer. "In such a challenge…?"

"In such a challenge—”

The waitress arrived again with their chips. Dream slammed his hands on the table, shaking the chips in their basket and making the waitress jump. 

"Sorry," Hob apologized, "we've had a bit of a day." Wasn't it always.

"In such a challenge," Dream continued when she had gone, in a tone that suggested he would not be stopped this time, "one must suggest a mind-form, which one's opponent will attempt to surmount and defeat. Then you attempt to defeat their new form, and so on until one challenger is victorious. It is… a predictive game, of sorts. If one can predict what one's opponent’s moves might be, one can choose forms to foil them. This can easily become complicated."

"So, it's like chess," Hob summarized.

Dream stiffened, lips pressing into an offended line. "It is not so simple as chess."

"Checkers?"

"It will not help you to think of it so." Dream took a chip and bit into it in irritation. "You just— oh." He stared at the chip. "These are quite pleasant."

"Can never go wrong with a good chip," said Hob, then furrowed his brows. "Haven't you had them in dreams before or something?"

"Presumably. It has been at least a century." 

Ah, yeah. That. "Well, they're frying them in veg oil instead of lard nowadays anyway. Kind of a different experience." 

Dream stared at him as if Hob made no sense whatsoever.

"Anyway," Hob continued, "am I even going to be able to create these mind-forms? I'm not exactly an otherworldly being." 

"The power is in you, though it may be more challenging to harness. And easier to let slip from your grasp. It is imagination, after all. Humans are good at imagination, though perhaps not so good at holding onto it."

"Hmm." Hob munched on a chip. "Okay. I'll work on my imagination." After seven hundred years or so of life, it was possibly a tool that needed some sharpening. 

"I admit it offends me greatly that Phaethon would presume to ask a human to fight in this way," said Dream. He suddenly gripped the lapels of Hob's jacket with a startling fervor, arms stretched across the tabletop. His gaze bore into Hob's. "I beg, allow me to represent you instead."

"Now what kind of man would I be if I let others fight my battles?" Hob said, prying his fingers off before his endless grip tore through the fabric. "Hard as it may be to believe, I'm actually not a bad hand at chess. Don't worry about me."

"I do not find that hard to believe. However, as I have said, this is not chess. It is an intimate and punishing battle of minds."

"Alright, so it's like Go Fish."

"Do not joke," Dream growled. Actually, he never truly growled. It was more like his voice dropped into a lower register than usual. Which was saying something. Hob interpreted it as a growl, though. "Do not joke when your existence is at stake. Your immortality cannot protect you from this." 

"Are you saying I'd be unmade if I lost?" Hob asked. It was a concerning thought, to say the least. It had been a long time since he'd had to concern himself with his own mortality.

Dream’s tongue ran over his lower lip. "Potentially. The terms of the fight do not state so, but I do not know how such a duel will affect a human. The strain of it may simply tear you to shreds. It nearly drained me, the last time I fought."

"Wait, you had a fight like this? Recently?"

Dream tilted his head, gaze paling in confusion. "I told you that I went to Hell to retrieve my helm." 

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me you had to mind-battle– who'd you mind-battle anyway?"

"The demon chose Lucifer Morningstar as his representative." Dream’s lip curled in distaste. "Hence, the near loss."

Hob looked at him in concern. "Are you alright, though?"

"Of course I am all right." He spoke it as two words, like the phrase had never before graced his tongue. Hob wanted to let out a long-suffering sigh, but managed to restrain himself. "I am Dream of the Endless."

"Mmhmm. Yep. Okay."

"You do not have to worry about me," Dream said stiffly, parroting Hob's words from before.

Hob thought that was evidently untrue, but decided not to mention the century of imprisonment or the multiple near-death experiences— could he die? Maybe it was more like multiple near-misses with eternal agony— since then. To preserve the relative peace of the moment. 

"So how'd you beat the devil, then?" he asked.

"I had everything to lose. Lucifer had nothing to lose, and only a paltry amusement to gain."

Was that an answer? Hob wasn't sure. 

"Okay," he said. "Well, I do have all of my dreams to lose, apparently. Plenty of incentive to win."

Ice crystallized along the rim of Dream’s glass, spreading from where his fingers pressed. “You speak as if you think I would ever allow this to happen.”

Hob raised an eyebrow. “I thought the magic was binding?”

“Only by honor.”

“And so… what would happen if you violated that honor?”

The words trickled out of Dream reluctantly. “One’s word would not be trusted again.”

“Right. Exactly. I can’t let you do that, love. There’s a whole eternity of words needing to be trusted after this.” It was tempting, honestly, to let his more powerful friend step in and handle this—especially as Hob still hadn’t gleaned what the hell he’d even done to piss off Phaethon—but ultimately, it wouldn’t be right. He’d never used Dream as a clean-up tool for any of his problems in the past, and he wasn’t about to start just because he now knew he was the Lord of Dreams.

Dream’s expression darkened further. He truly was capable of embodying shadow when he was annoyed; Hob didn’t know how he hadn’t figured out the extent of his supernaturalness sooner, honestly. “You would not let.”

“Hey. Come on. I’ve solved plenty of my own problems, haven’t I? Have a little faith.” Hob kind of wanted to pat his hand, but wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “You don’t think I can win a duel against this Phaethon guy?” 

Dream seemed uncertain about it, and Hob couldn’t help but feel a little offended. Sure, he wasn’t a supernatural entity, but Hob had gotten himself out of a fair number of scrapes, and without the help of any Endless, thanks very much! 

“His rancor disturbs me,” Dream said at last. “I do not know what you have done to offend him.”

“Nor I. Never met the guy.”

Dream seemed lost in contemplation. Hob let him, and kept eating the chips.

Eventually, Dream said, “Even if this loss did come to pass… you would always have a place in the Dreaming.”

Hob’s breathing stuttered. “With you?” he said, sounding much smaller than he’d expected. It was… an ill-considered response, to say the least. 

Dream shifted in his seat. “I am the Dreaming,” he said. “It is part of me, and I it.”

“I see,” said Hob. But the thought kept turning within him.

---

No more was said on the matter until their beers were drunk and their chips polished off and they were strolling out the door of the pub. 

As they crossed the threshold, Hob was struck by a realization. He slapped Dream on the breast of his coat, stopping him in his tracks.

"I'm an idiot! Of course it's not like chess. It's metaphysical rock-paper-scissors!"

"Are you intoxicated?" Dream asked wearily.

"Nope. Just happy to have my old friend around again."

Dream’s form, unbreakable as the darkness between stars, stuttered. Behind him, his shadow wavered.

Then he swept away, leaving Hob to catch up. 

---

They met again on the field of battle, so to speak.

Phaethon was there before them, melodramatic in his white-and-gold cape. Not as melodramatic as Dream, though, whose eyeliner seemed darker than usual, somehow, and whose cloak swept all the way to the ground, pooling more like liquid than fabric. He was very displeased about these events, Hob could tell.

Hob shook Phaethon’s hand formally. Once again, the touch burned him, but he resisted the urge to shake his hand out in pain. Then they stood across from each other. Hob wished he had a sword, but that was not this game.

"As the challenged party, you commence the duel," Dream told him, standing not far from Hob’s side as Phaethon paced before them, grinning. "You may choose your form and begin."

Hob had thought long and hard about how he would start. He didn't want to go too big, else the fight escalate beyond his control. Obviously, he didn't want to pick something weak either.

What was out there that had tormented mankind, sowing destruction, breeding fear and illness and death, while barely reaching higher than an ankle? 

Hob had lived through it. The choice was obvious.

"I am a plague rat," he started, and saw Dream’s eyebrows twitch. Impressed. Ha! "Hiding in shadows. Letting sickness into our food, homes, blood."

He saw the rats in his mind. Scurrying through tunnels, climbing into grain stores, unaware of what they carried. A seething mass of tails and slick fur and beady eyes, churning, churning, churning. 

Phaethon curled in on himself, limbs creaking, boils popping on his skin and pus leaking from his eyes. Hob flinched at the reminder of those times. Horrible, horrible times.

Mentally, Hob prepared for the counterattack. Paper beats rock. What beats rat? Dog beats rat. Cat beats rat. Famine, extermination fumes, plague doctors, modern medicine—

"I," Phaethon ground out, through the contortions of his body, "am a flood."

Oof. Good one.

"A swelling, raging river, decimating any town in my path. Washing rats down to their deaths." 

A phantom wave smacked Hob in the face and hurled him to the ground. It crashed over him, gallons and gallons of water, surging up his nose, into his eyes, down his throat. He choked on it. He drowned in it. Debris in the floodwaters bruised him till he felt like a branch spinning out in the current, rather than a human.

Then. He managed to take in a breath.

He staggered to his feet.

Dream was standing a step closer, like he'd lurched forward, but he forced himself back into stillness.

"I," Hob said on a gasping breath, pushing wet hair out of his eyes, "am a drought." Phaethon had taken it to another level? Fine. Hob would go scorched earth. "Whisking away all your water. Turning everything into dust."

Phaethon choked, throat suddenly dry. His eyes went bloodshot. His skin flaked and peeled, his lips bled. He clutched at his stomach as it heaved for water.

He could go rain again, Hob thought. Or ice age. Asteroid. Biblical flood—does that count if he already did a regular flood?

"I am famine," said Phaethon, when he'd recovered himself, though he was still rasping. "I wither crops without water. I starve everything that walks."

Hob's stomach caved in on itself. He fell to his knees, retching nothing but bile. His mind flashed back to his decades on the streets, so long without food he'd thought his stomach would start eating itself—and then it had. 

His arms shook. His body felt thin and liable to crack. 

"I," he croaked, still on all fours, "am an oasis. Rising from the desert, real, not a mirage. Offering reprieve." 

Too late, he realized this might restore his opponent. 

But instead, Phaethon creased and cracked, like he was the famine, persecuted by salvation. He clasped his stomach as if it was overfull; water poured from his mouth.

Water filled Hob's mouth, too, but it restored him. He climbed back to his feet.

Dream was definitely closer now. He wasn't imagining it. Still, he didn't intervene.

Phaethon was visibly weakened, but still he said, "I am selfishness. Infighting over limited resources. Society destroying its oasis."

Hob's limbs were torn in opposite directions. He yelled, but the invisible hands on him didn't let up, yanking at him like he was the final piece of food before everlasting deprivation. He pulled at them, but it was no use.

One of his shoulders dislocated with a loud pop, and he bit down on his tongue so as not to scream. Blood exploded in his mouth.

"I am generosity!" he yelled, blood dripping over his lips. "I am brother sharing with brother. Stranger sharing with stranger."

Dream was looking at him now like he didn't know what to make of him. Phaethon, too, was staring at him, but with a look of disgust. 

"High-minded idealist, are you?" he sneered. "What the hell is generosity going to—”

His expression broke in half. His hands shook; he picked at his nail beds until they peeled and started bleeding. His lip wavered and his eyes beaded with tears.

Hob didn't know what was happening to him.

"Shame," Dream breathed from behind him. "So clever, Hob."

Hob hadn't actually known what generosity would do, but he appreciated the compliment nonetheless.

"I," croaked Phaethon, through tears, "am memory. History and anger curdled to a resentment which no generosity can overcome."

He felt Dream’s eyes on him, as he no doubt feared the anger, the resentment he so believed that Hob held over his absence would surge forth again. But it did not, for Hob had never been angry with Dream. Angry with himself, yes, and that he felt acutely, along with the fear and hurt of Dream walking away, the stewing guilt of it.

Memory held more than anger. Mostly, for Hob, it held grief. Grief for his friend who'd been imprisoned for so long, while Hob went about his life, imagining him lonely, isolated perhaps, but never knowing the truth. Grief for himself, too, for he knew that to always blame himself for Dream’s behavior had also been unfair. 

Tears slipped from his eyes. He looked over at Dream, who was still watching him warily.

Memory had far too many facets for Phaethon to use it as an effective weapon.

"I am forgiveness," Hob said, closing his eyes against a fresh welling of tears. He didn't know who he was forgiving. Himself, or Dream, who still seemed to need absolution from Hob, no matter how Hob told him he didn’t.

"I am hatred!" Phaethon snarled. His voice had gone animalistic in a last ditch effort to come out on top. But forgiveness clanged around him, pulling tears from his eyes, undermining his viciousness. "I am division even forgiveness cannot mend."

Just like that, he opened up the path for Hob to take his king. Checkmate. Game over. Rock paper scissors shoot.

"I am love," Hob said quietly, even as a sob caught in his throat as the memory of all the hate he'd witnessed in his life, the hate he'd participated in, and the fear, long-held, that even Dream might hate him, for his wrongs, or for overstepping, pulsed back to the forefront. He could never hate Dream, though. No matter what.

"Love can be easily destroyed," snapped Phaethon, but he was wavering. 

"But it always comes back," said Hob. Unwitting, he looked over his shoulder at Dream.

His friend was already looking directly at him. That tinge of red, so terrible and familiar now, was back along his eyes. He didn't speak, not to Hob. Hob followed his gaze as he looked over Hob's shoulder and spoke to Phaethon.

"Do you have a counter?"

"Love?" Phaethon laughed hysterically. "You brought love to a duel?"

"I believe Hob brings love everywhere he goes," said Dream, and Hob whipped back around to look at him, eyes wide. The tiniest smile was dancing on Dream’s lips.

Then a blade erupted from Hob's chest.

Blood sprayed. His heart stopped beating—actually stopped, he felt it. The sword had pierced right through it. He scrabbled for it with clumsy hands, but the blade shiiiinged back out before he could grab it. 

Blood spattered Dream’s face. Those pretty lips parted, eyes widened, the lordly bearing wiped from his expression leaving only a person, shocked and wounded. Hob would never forget that look of startled horror for as long as he lived. 

Which wasn't looking to be that long.

He fell to his knees, blood pouring from his chest. No use trying to stop it. It would mend itself, in time, but that knowledge did nothing to stop the instinctive rush of fear. He was dying. He was dying.

He fell on his side. Blood soaked his shirt. All told, it took maybe ten seconds after getting speared like a wild hog—

—for the world to completely blink out.

---

Hob's chest ached like a bitch when he woke. 

He was still on the ground, bloody mud around him, soaking his clothes. Oh. That was mud made from his blood. How horrifying. 

He opened his eyes in time to see Dream lifting Phaethon from the ground by his neck. His hand was a vice grip and Phaethon choked, scrabbling at his fingers for breath.

"TREACHERY," Dream snarled, louder than Hob had ever heard him. His voice boomed across the empty park. "I will unmake you."

"I'm not one of your creatures, you can do nothing to me," said Phaethon, but his assuredness flickered.

Dream’s being was a black hole eating light. "Watch it happen."

Hob coughed, dirt trapped in his throat, and shoved himself up on his forearms. Dream froze, and turned slowly to look at him, Phaethon still clasped in his hand like he weighed nothing. Dream’s attention was like being in the path of a comet.

"Hob," he said. "Are you alright?"

Hob knew, in that moment, that if he asked Dream to spare Phaethon from whatever fate he had in mind for him, he would comply. And what power that was. Hob didn't want to be the one doling out mercy or punishment, like a judge at the gates of Hell. But damn if it wasn't a thrill to have Dream look at him like that.

"Of course I'm all right," he said, with a bloody grin. "I'm Hob Gadling."

Dream smiled too, a ferocious smile, like that of a wolf.

Hob didn't tell him to spare Phaethon.

Apparently, they both had some savagery in them.

---

"So why did he kill me?" Hob asked later, when he'd showered all the blood off—God he loved modern showers—and they were both sitting at the kitchen table in his flat, drinking tea. Well, Hob was drinking tea. Dream was just kind of staring at it. "I mean, the cost of losing wasn't even that high. Not on his end, anyway."

"He was not interested in you at all," said Dream, still not looking at him. "I dragged the truth from him while you were… gone. This was all a ploy to get to me. To hurt me—indirectly, of course. Such a lower being could never hurt me directly."

"Wait." Hob tried to grapple with this. "You— are you saying I was like a kidnapped princess?" 

Dream frowned. "If you insist. The point is, he did not plan to let you walk away. By winning, or by killing you, whichever he could accomplish." 

"Damn. Maybe I should have let you fight for me."

"No. You represented yourself admirably. More than admirably. You won the challenge, fairly, and did not try to kill your opponent to do it." 

Praise from Dream always hit Hob somewhere deep. Possibly because Dream only said such things when he meant them. Possibly just because it was Dream saying them.

“Well, thanks for handling him in the end,” Hob said, instead of voicing that sentiment.

Dream nodded solemnly. “I would not allow such harm to befall you without interfering,” he said.

Hob took a sip of his tea to avoid showing how he felt about that quite so obviously on his face.

“Why did he want to hurt you, then?” he asked instead.

“He is the child of a sun deity,” said Dream.

“And… that… means…?”

“Sunlight chases away dreams. We are natural enemies.”

Hob frowned. “What about daydreams?” 

“Daydreams may take place during the daytime, but they exist in the darkness of the inner mind,” said Dream.

“Ahhhh.” Hob nodded sagely. Yeah, sure, that made sense. One hundred percent. Absolutely. “I don’t know, I feel like some dreams can survive in the daylight. Thrive, even.”

“Perhaps next time I have an altercation with a sun deity, I will call upon you,” Dream said, a bite of sarcasm in it. “To see if you can banish them with this mindset.”

“Don’t give me that cheek,” Hob admonished. Dream’s mouth popped open in offense, but Hob plowed on, “Just have an open mind about it, that’s all I’m saying. Who knows, maybe you guys are in a symbiotic relationship or something, instead of enemies. You help people see what could be possible, and they balance it with reality.”

Dream was silent for a moment, thinking. “Perhaps,” he said at last. “But I do not think approaching them in this manner will serve me well, at the moment.”

“Maybe not if they’re going around attacking you,” Hob conceded, and Dream cracked a small smile.

Sun deities, Hob thought. Really, life was full of such strange and interesting things.

“So when you went to Hell,” Hob started. Dream tilted his head, but didn’t seem thrown by the change in subject. “What did you wager in exchange for your helm? The game makes you wager something, right?”

“It was the demon who chose the other side of the wager,” said Dream. “He demanded I remain in Hell and serve him for eternity, if I lost.”

Hob was glad he’d put down his tea, as he’d probably have dropped it. “What? Was the helm really worth that risk?”

Dream leaned back in his chair, lips pressed tight in offense. Or maybe hurt. “I am nothing without my tools of office,” he said.

“That is not true,” said Hob, surprised by his own vehemence. Nothing? He thought he was nothing?

“I could not have restored the Dreaming without them,” Dream insisted.

“Okay, fine. They’re important for your job. But that doesn’t mean you’re nothing without them.” Hob went to lay his hand over Dream’s on the table, hesitated, then decided, fuck it. Dream started when their skin touched, but didn’t move away. Hob repeated his words, with even more emphasis this time. “You’re not nothing.”

Dream met his gaze, challenging. Hob didn’t back down.

“As you wish,” Dream finally said. Which wasn’t actually an agreement. “I can concede that the ruby breaking was ultimately beneficial to my power. But the helm is my symbol of office. To leave it in the possession of a demon is a continual humiliation to my realm and station.”

“Okay, I’m hearing you,” Hob said. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Dream should be able to get his helm back. But he didn’t want Dream to risk horrible punishment for the sake of his pride. Better to slink away alive to try again another day, or so Hob felt. That wasn’t Dream, though.

“Just be careful, okay?” he said. “Even if you lost your helm and everything, and everyone in Hell thought you were pathetic—which, by the way, not sure Hell’s opinion is worth much anyway? but that aside—I’d still rather have you here than the alternative.” He threw Dream a smile, hoping he didn’t take offense to the idea that he could possibly be pathetic. “It wasn’t ‘The King of Dreams and Nightmares, et cetera’ that I missed for all those years, you know?”

“You did not know who I was, then,” Dream pointed out, but he seemed contemplative.

“I liked who I did know,” Hob said. “My friend.”

“Your friend,” repeated Dream slowly. Finally, he did pick up his tea, and took a sip. “A powerful title indeed, if you would have me when it is the only one I carry.”

“If you say so,” Hob said, which brought a small smile to Dream’s lips. If Dream wanted to think of it as a title akin to his kingship and endlessness and whatnot, then Hob would bestow it on him with gladness, and with a warm sense of honor that nestled right in his heart.

“It is…” Dream added, at length, “a meaningful title. To me.”

Rare, those expressions of feeling from Dream. Hob couldn’t help but to bask in them like a cat in a sunbeam. He remembered how Dream had looked at him during the duel. Love always comes back. Worth it, all the strife, to see Dream look at him like that, he thought.

“You defended me,” Dream said. “To prevent me taking the duel in your place. To protect me when it was not warranted.”

Wasn’t warranted. Hob really wished Dream would just learn to let Hob care for him.

"Would have even if I'd known it was you he truly wanted," he said. “I missed my friend for long enough. Wasn’t going to let something happen again when I could get in the way of it.”

“Your friend,” Dream said again. As if savoring the words. His lips tipped up again in a small smile. One just for himself.

Hob squeezed his hand on the table. A grounding touch, a reminder. “And don’t forget it.”

Dream turned his hand over on the table, and squeezed back.

[writethrough]

How about a comfort fic with Vessel/reader? Your choice on if Vessel comforts the reader or the reader comforts Vessel!

Just Like Rain

(Vessel x Gender Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: Your anxieties overtake you, and Vessel is there to guide you through them.

Warnings: Self-deprecation, thoughts of unworthiness and self-hatred, language, unintentionally cathartic for me

Word Count: 1557

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this, anon! I'm so excited for you to read my first Vessel fic!

A little housekeeping for those who have read through my Request Guidelines, and may be confused about me writing for a real person when it says I don't. That is still the case, but Vessel is a character when it comes down to it. So, I feel comfortable writing for him, especially in the way I've written him here.

Also—and I hope this goes without saying—I will not entertain theories and rumors about any of Sleep Token's identities.

Enjoy the music for what it is, as the band intended. And I truly hope you enjoy my interpretation of Vessel.

The burn felt good. The steam made you breathe heavier, but you didn’t want this to be easy. You wanted to feel every inhale—stand under the water until you were seared from within; until it felt like you were in your body and not a whisper away from being dragged into oblivion. 

You choked back a sob; still so fearful someone would hear you when you were the only one home. 

There was no reason for you to cry. 

So many people had it so much worse. 

But here you were, on the verge of panic because you didn’t feel like yourself. You didn’t even feel human. 

You wished you could put a name to it, but you couldn’t. 

What was wrong with you? 

Why did you have to feel like this? It came out of nowhere. Like you were struck by a fucking semi. 

You just wanted it to stop. You wanted to feel normal, to not have these sudden bouts of...of what? Melancholia? Sadness? Anger? No word seemed strong enough for it. 

All you wanted was to rip it out. 

Your tears fell harder. 

The water cooled. You turned the knob further. 

And then there were arms around you. 

You tensed, choking back your sobs and covering your mouth as if you could hide what he had already seen. 

Slowly, carefully, as if you would break, Vessel turned you to face him. 

Without a word, he cupped the back of your head and brought it into the crook of his neck. 

You refused to remove your hand. 

All it did was make your shoulders tremble. 

His fingers traced up and down your arm, more of a breeze than a touch. His other hand slid down to the back of your neck. The pressure of it spread through your body. 

Your hand dropped from your mouth and tentatively found its way to his chest. And as he inhaled, you let your hands travel to his back as you stepped closer. 

He held you there, head resting atop yours. 

It was only when you shivered that you realized he had turned you, blocking you from the piping hot spray. 

You sniffled, finally looking at him. 

He cupped your cheeks, brushing away the tear tracks, then pressed his forehead to yours. 

Let us go to our room, my love. 

His words passed into your mind. You nodded. 

He stopped the water, helped you out of the shower, and dried you both. 

He guided your limbs into your sleepwear and covered himself with loose black pants. He looked almost...human...like this. 

You couldn’t help thinking that he was more human than most everyone out there. 

---

Your day started out fine. 

You woke from a wonderful dream—one Vessel had created. A peaceful afternoon beneath a willow tree, snuggled into his side, his fingers trailing along your forearm, down to your fingertips. 

He had tilted your face toward his, kissing your forehead. You had closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you were in bed, his lips still pressed to your skin. 

You got ready for work, Vessel watching as you moved through your room to the bathroom and back. He enjoyed observing you. The personal rituals you did for different occasions, different times of day. Perhaps the one he enjoyed the most was when you asked for his opinion when your ensemble was complete. 

He’d stand from his perch on the foot of your bed and step toward you as if in a trance. 

“You are breathtaking, my love.” He always spoke it. He wanted you to hear the power in the words—the power you held over him. 

You left, and Vessel would gather with the others. You’d ask him about his day, but admittedly, you were still confused about everything they could do—everything they were charged with doing. 

Maybe that was where is started.

You didn't understand. Could never understand.

And a chasm opened.

You were so fucking stupid.

You deserved to feel like this.

Insignificant.

Unneeded.

Unwanted.

Everyone was better off without you.

He’d be happier without you. 

All these fucking noises.

Why was everything so goddamn loud.

Dogs barking. Cars honking. That fucking clock that wouldn’t shut the fuck up! 

It all made you so angry. Why were you so angry? 

You had to make it stop. 

That’s how you ended up in the shower. At least there you could control the noise. You could feel it mark you. Let the heat punish you. 

A hand on your back pulled you back to reality. 

Let me see you, darling. 

You didn’t move, wished you didn’t need to breathe.  

He didn’t deserve this. He needed someone as extraordinary as him, someone who could understand. You could barely wrap your mind around how vast he was; he was everything, and you were—

“You are my heart.” 

A sob escaped. You had forgotten. Too consumed in your own thoughts that you forgot to keep them from him, to stop projecting them. 

He whispered your name, and all you heard was his heartbreak. 

You refused to look at him, covering your mouth to keep your cries back. 

“Please,” he urged. “Please believe me. You are the most precious to me. Do not think of yourself with such loathing.” 

His hand rested on your side, a silent plea to face him. When you didn’t, he forced you to. He never did that—used his strength against you—but this was an exception. 

“I am the one who does not deserve you. My existence is burdensome to you...but I am too selfish. I cannot lose you. I will not leave you willingly. I...I will stay by your side...until you demand otherwise.” 

It pained him to imagine it. He was so bad at hiding his emotions. And yet, it was what you needed. That break in his voice parted your darkness. The thought of him ever not being here scared you.

“I don’t—” You hiccupped. “I don’t want you to leave.” 

“Darling,” he breathed, sympathy and relief in that one word. “Come here.” 

You wrapped your arms around his waist while his settled over your shoulders. 

“My place is by your side,” he said. “Thank you for allowing me here.” 

Squeezing, you nuzzled your face into his neck. The edges of his mask-like features settled you into reality. He was here and so were you, and you were together. 

You sniffled; throat too thick to speak. 

I love you. 

His mouth pressed into your crown. 

You are the one I cherish most. 

At the end of your exhale, relaxation enveloped you—a heaviness only he could instill. 

You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t need to. You just needed this day to be over. 

Sleep, my beloved. And awake anew. 

--- 

You didn’t dream that night, and you were grateful. It was the kind of emptiness you needed. 

When you opened your eyes, you were facing Vessel. Your fingers were touching, bodies apart but connected, always. 

Sometimes it was difficult to tell if he was awake. Even facing one another, the spaces where his eyes should be neither opened nor closed. His breathing was what gave him away. But not this morning. Today, it was the way his pinky finger wrapped around yours. 

Dearest one. 

It moved through your mind like a gentle breeze, and it sounded like “good morning.” 

He seemed to move before you did, anticipating you shifting closer, so his arm wrapped around you and his hand caressed the back of your head. 

You are rested? 

You hummed. He always asked when you both knew he didn’t need to. His insecurities needed the reassurance that he had helped you.

Yes. Thank you. 

You punctuated it by gliding your lips along his throat and placing a kiss above his Adam’s apple. 

The purr that erupted pulled the corner of your mouth up. He was always responsive in the mornings, less guarded before the walls of your bubble faded. 

What are you feeling? 

Not “how,” but “what.”  

Inhaling, you took stock of yourself. You recalled your pain from yesterday, but that already felt so long ago. Like your mind was trying to protect itself after what it put you through.

All you really felt was him. 

Safe. 

His head tilted downward so your foreheads touched. 

That pleases me. 

You rubbed your nose with his. Content to simply feel him. 

The others and I have decided I shall remain with you today. 

It had taken you a while to get used to the connection him and the rest shared. Honestly, you were a bit jealous. After all, how convenient it was to cancel plans just by thinking about it. He probably did it in the seconds before you woke up. 

So, what should we do? 

Anything that will make you happy. 

That sincerity always made you pause and scrutinize him. How could anyone truly mean that? 

Yet somehow, he did. Every time. 

And if I said this? 

You traced curves and swirls onto his back, reveling in the strength you felt within. Sometimes you swore his power was tangible. 

“Then I shall continue to warm your bed.” 

Your flush was instantaneous, and you knew he could feel it against his neck. But before you could stutter a reply, your stomach growled. 

“Perhaps breakfast first?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Definitely.” 

Taglist: @steph-speaks because one of my only points of pride is introducing you to ST.

Comment or message me if you wanna be tagged in future Vessel fics!

[frankenkyle19]

Hold Me

warnings: Tate, Smut, handjobs, mentions of violence

word count: 688

basically just a little thing I just typed up. Not proofread and honestly not my best work but I wanted to put out something at least for you guys since it’s been over a week

Tate was… Well, odd to put it lightly. He had the hottest temper, but yet seemed to melt whenever he saw you. He hated everyone but you (his words). He wasn’t a benevolent spirit, despite what others might say. In your opinion he was misunderstood. You never excused his atrocious acts, but in all reality he hadn’t been able to stop it. The house had chosen him to do its bidding. Nothing could have stopped it and if Tate hadn’t been the vessel, another resident of the house would have been. He was different now. Far from the murderous psychotic teenager you’d first met. It was a full 180 switch from everything he’d been. He didn’t need therapy, he didn’t need meds. He needed you. You were his medicine (again, his words) and he couldn’t go a day without you.

So when you left to visit your friends out of state, Tate had no clue what to do with himself. He paced the halls, wandering aimlessly, searching for a distraction that he didn’t find. There was nothing to do in the damned house and he needed you. 

Without you the dark thoughts crawled back into his mind, clawing at the edges of his skull as the searing pain of remembrance took over. How good it had felt to take the lives of others. No matter how much Tate had changed, there was a dark part of him locked away that longed to get free. 

The only thing he could think to do was go to your room and keep himself in there until you got back. It was only a weekend trip, you’d be back Monday afternoon, but still the empty ringing in Tate’s ears drove him crazy. Caused him to fidget and pick at his nails. He slept most of the time, or a ghost version of sleep, a barely conscious rest where you’re aware of everything around you but get a bit of rest fullness. It was unsatisfactory most of the time.

When you had gotten home Tate practically ran to you, attaching himself to you like a parasite. That was Tate. He always had to be in contact with you. It helped ground him. 

The next thing you knew he was whining against your neck, leaving hot, wet kisses there. He was the neediest person you’d ever met… as well as the horniest. You settled him into the bed and stripped him of his clothing, the whole time with him whining and begging you to just touch him already. He was anything but patient.

Finally your hand wrapped around his searing hot cock, gently spreading the pre-cum from the tip to use as lube. You’d think he was a virgin all over again with the way he moaned, arching up into your touch as if he’d never felt pleasure like this before when in all reality he usually begged for your touch at least once a day.

Sometimes his clinginess and neediness was annoying, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. It was, in a way… cute.

His cock twitched, hot and heavy in your hand as Tate threw his head back into the pillows, his beautiful pale chest heaving with every harsh inhale. His whole body reacted to the pleasure, tensing up and jolting around. He never stayed still.

“Come on baby, you’re almost there. Let go for me” his whines increased at your words, his thrusts upwards into your hand becoming more desperate as he came closer and closer to the edge.

A few more strokes and he was cumming in ribbons of white, covering his already abnormally pale body in an even lighter color. You eased up on him, giving one or two more strokes to his spent cock before letting go, watching as it fell onto his stomach, twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure before settling. 

You cleaned Tate up and helped him into his boxers, despite his protests at wearing clothing. He snuggled up close to you after that, feeling as content as ever as he promised to return the favor as soon as he got his energy back. 

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 22 - Bleeding through bandages, "oh that's not good"

This is my 100th lu whumptober fic. how on earth has it been that many. holy CRAP. I have so many things wrong with me.

It's not the most amazing 100th fic, but unfortunately my sister gave me her awful cold, so here we are lol. thank you all for indulging my love for (beating up) these guys all these years <3

Warnings: eye injury (not in detail), blood

Ao3 link

————————————————————

The battle had been going fine.

Time and Twilight were alone in a forest, the others missing after a portal, but they were handling the lynel that had come across them just fine, dodging in and out, taking turns dealing blows.

They’d both taken some small hits, but nothing serious, and easily fixed once they got their hands on some healing supplies. Time wasn’t as familiar with lynels, but Twilight enough of their tricks that he was able to assist him where necessary. Even with the early-morning fog curling in tendrils around their feet, blocking the first golden rays of sunshine and lowering visibility, the battle was going fine.

Until Twilight dodged just a little too slow.

Time didn’t see exactly what happened. He’d flipped away from the lynel as it had swiped at him, dodged a furious charge, and then moved away to shelter from a plume of fire it launched at him. It was nearly dead, only a few hits left, and Time sheltered behind a tree for a few precious seconds while it finished blasting fire.

And as he came back out, he watched the lynel swing out and Twilight fly backwards, a cry coming from his descendant as he hit the ground.

Then made no move to get up.

Time yelled, heart stopping, and he ran for the lynel. Blood stained its blade, and fury rose in Time. The lynel snarled at him as he got between it and Twilight, and Time didn’t hesitate in slashing his claymore across its chest.

It snarled even louder, and Time danced around its blade, ducking and leaping to the side. He ignored every small injury plaguing him, ignored his sore arms and aching feet, and focused only on defeating the lynel.

It charged at him, blade swinging to take his head off, but Time leapt around behind it and stabbed the beast through its spine.

The lynel let out a dying roar, falling to its knees and collapsing in a puff of dark smoke and black blood, but Time only had eyes for Twilight.

Who still wasn’t moving.

A wolf’s agonized howl echoed in his memory, and Time bolted, memories flashing through his mind. He was unable to stop the visions that shot through his head of Twilight lying near death, Hyrule trying to heal him over and over, blood staining his fur, his skin, words they'd all thought would be his last whispered through trembling lips—

“Rancher,” he said frantically, falling to his knees beside him, “Twilight, can you hear me?”

He got a moan in response, and Time exhaled, trying to look at Twilight’s face. The small pool of blood on the ground was concentrated under his head, and Twilight had a hand clasped tightly over his right eye, his breath coming in short pants. Time tried to gently pry his fingers away, and Twilight whimpered, his uncovered eye squeezed tightly closed.

“Twilight, I need to see it,” Time said, stuffing his fear deep down where it couldn't reach him.

“Old man, I... it’s— it’s my,” Twilight gasped, still clutching at his face. “It— Time my eye—”

Time’s stomach lurched. “Twilight, move your hand. I won’t touch it, but I need to look at it.”

Twilight shuddered, and drew his hand away, bloodstained fingers trembling.

There was too much blood to tell how bad it was, but Time could see the line slashed across Twilight’s eyelid, practically in the same place as his own scar. He breathed in sharply, then took Twilight’s hand in his, warm blood smearing on his fingers.

“Okay,” he breathed, trying not to think about his own eye, how his markings had been seared onto him that same day, the pain both physical and mental clawing at him. “Okay. I’m out of healing supplies, I assume you’re the same?”

Twilight shakily nodded, and Time swallowed.

“Right. We’ll have to join up with the others, I know Legend still has a few left. I need to wrap this in the meantime,” he said in a voice calmer than he felt, and Twilight breathed out, giving him another small nod.

Time pulled out the roll of bandages he had in his bag, as well as a clean cloth. He helped Twilight sit up, leaning him on his shoulder, and carefully wiped away the worst of the blood that was around his eye.

Twilight flinched, knuckles white where they were balled into fists. Time didn't wipe everything, afraid of hurting him or making the injury worse, and started in on wrapping his face. He covered up Twilight's injured eye with swift, practiced movements, and though he was as gentle as possible, he could tell Twilight fought to keep himself still through it all.

Time had to keep Twilight’s head tilted to the side while he worked, and his throat tightened as he saw a tear escape Twilight’s other eye. He finished as quickly as possible, and Twilight slumped against his shoulder, breathing heavily.

His uninjured eye cracked open, and Time carefully helped him stand, Twilight leaning heavily against his arm.

“Alright, I’m sure the others are close,” Time said, looking ahead into the fog, and ignoring the few twinges of pain he got as he adjusted his hold on Twilight. “Just hold on for me for a little while."

Twilight nodded wearily, and they got moving.

(...)

Time hadn’t been keeping track of the time as closely as he should have been, but he still knew they should’ve found the others by now.

Twilight was still walking, somehow, and Time carefully supported him, blood drying on his fingers as he and Twilight traveled through the foggy woods. Faint beams of sunlight glittered through the fog, catching on golden birch leaves, but Time wasn’t focused on the scenery at all.

Just on any sign of the others, and Twilight's quickly fading strength.

Twilight’s steps faltered a little, and Time clasped his arm, keeping him upright. Twilight sighed wearily, the noise shaking, and Time gave his arm a light squeeze. They kept walking in silence, though Time's thoughts roared with memories and worry and barely held-back panic. So much so that he almost missed it when Twilight spoke.

“Was... it like this f’r you?” Twilight murmured after a bit, and Time blinked.

“What do you mean?”

Twilight stepped carefully over a root, leg shaking. “With your... eye.”

“Oh,” Time said blankly, putting a hand to his own face. The scar itched, but he ignored it. “No, not... not exactly.”

“...Kitchen accident, then?” Twilight asked, and Time couldn’t help his snort, shaking his head.

“No, though Malon knows I have plenty of nicks from that sort of thing. I step foot in a kitchen and suddenly everything is out to get me,” he sighed, and looked over at Twilight. Then stiffened.

The bandages he’s wrapped carefully over Twilight’s eye were stained red.

“What’s wrong?” Twilight murmured, blinking at him with his working eye. Time carefully put his hand on Twilight’s cheek, tilting his head to the side, and bit back a curse as he saw how red the bandages were.

They’d almost entirely soaked through.

He’s bleeding too much, he’ll lose his eye, you'll have to watch him fade away again—

“You’re still bleeding a lot,” Time admitted, trying to keep the worry from his voice. Twilight frowned, and lightly put a finger on the bandages, wincing as he felt how damp they were.

“Oh. That’s not good,” he mumbled, and Time resumed walking, a little faster than before.

"Maybe we'll find a fairy around here," Time tried to reassure, remembering blood-soaked bandages wrapped around Twilight's middle, his descendant barely able to even raise his hand up. Ignoring the voice in the back of his head wondering if Twilight still couldn't be healed by normal means, if the Shadow still had some kind of grip on him even though it had been weeks.

"Maybe," Twilight said quietly. "I hope... so."

Time walked faster.

The fog around them began to dissipate, the water melting away as the sun rose higher. It was becoming a truly beautiful morning, but Time wanted to scream at the sky as Twilight leaned on him more and more heavily, arm shaking where it was slung over his shoulder.

Twilight was fading, and he was helpless to stop it.

Again.

“Time?” Twilight asked after another few minutes, and Time hummed. “Am... I gonna lose my eye?”

Twilight’s voice was small and scared, no doubt intensified by the blood loss. Time swallowed, and squeezed his arm, trying not to think back to those first days when he wrestled with the fact that his eye was no longer his own.

“I can’t promise anything,” he admitted quietly. “But the others have potions and fairies. And if those fail I’m confident in our traveler’s healing abilities. He saved you once, after all.”

Twilight’s lips upturned in a tiny smile. “True. H-he’s stubborn.”

“Indeed," Time said gently, and shifted his grip again. "You'll be fine, rancher. You'll be fine."

He wasn’t sure if he was saying it for Twilight's benefit or his own.

Twilight hummed wearily, and Time dragged him onward, ignoring the blood beginning to slip down Twilight's cheek, his face almost as pale as the fog still fading around them.

You'll be fine. Please be fine.

I can't take another loss.

The woods stretched on. Time kept walking. He was nearly carrying Twilight now, his descendant white as a sheet and shaking whenever he so much as took a step. Time tried to distract him by asking questions, remembering what Warriors usually did when one of their number was injured, and each response Twilight gave was more unintelligible then the last.

Twilight's legs finally gave out on him at one point, and Time hefted him onto his back, Twilight's head lolling as it fell against his shoulder. Time jogged as fast as he could, his mind whirling with options and last-ditch ideas, the mask humming in his pouch next to an instrument of near-equal power.

He lost himself in his desperation, world fading down to nothing but his rapid footsteps and Twilight's panting breath, blood staining his neck.

And Time was so intent on getting Twilight help, that when the help finally came, he almost didn't realize it.

"Old man! What happened?!"

Time jumped, hand going to his sword, but then the others appeared out of the last vestiges of fog, faces shocked and worried.

Relief slammed into Time like an avalanche, and he sank to his knees, pulling Twilight off of his back with shaking hands.

"It's his eye, a lynel," Time panted, realizing abruptly that he was out of breath. "I was too far, he needs..."

"Healing, gotcha," Legend said with a nod, and he began fishing in his bag, Time holding tight to Twilight.

The others gathered around as Legend fished around, checking their own bags for supplies just in case. Four stood next to Time’s elbow, watching Twilighth intently, and patted Time on the arm, giving him a gentle look.

"He'll be okay old man," he said softly, and Time nodded, holding Twilight even closer as Legend pulled out a fairy from his bag.

"I know," he replied, eyes never leaving the fairy. "I know."

So why am I still shaking? He wondered as she spun around Twilight, gentle sparkles falling from her wings.

Twilight visibly relaxed as she finished, and Time carefully pulled the blood-soaked bandages from his face, sighing in relief at the sight of Twilight’s eye. There was a faint pink line scored across his face still, and blood encrusted all over the place. But the wound had been healed. And it looked like the scar would barely be visible.

“Well if there was any doubt you two are related, I think that’s gone now,” Warriors said lightly, and a few chuckles went up.

“Yeah wow, do eye injuries run in the family?” Wild asked, the deep worry that had been on his face carefully banished.

“Very funny,” Time said with an eye roll, managing to keep his voice from shaking. Twilight shifted in his arms a little, and he tuned out of the conversation that ensued, looking down at him.

Twilight cracked open his good eye, and smiled weakly at Time, still white as a sheet from losing so much blood. Time returned it, albeit shakily, and held his descendant close, gently picking dried blood from his hair.

“Stop scaring us like that,” he whispered as the others chattered lightly around them, seemingly unaware of how terrified Time had been.

Twilight merely nodded, and curled into his hold a bit more.

[steddieas-shegoes]

sew you up

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'hurt/comfort' rated t wc: 993 cw: injury tags: post-vecna, someone finally takes care of steve's bat bite, getting together

-----------------------------------------

He just had to get them all safe. Then he could take care of the bite.

He just had to keep an eye on Eddie, make sure no government officials tried to take him or let the police arrest him. Then he could take care of the bite.

He just had to help Wayne get them moved into their new trailer. Then he could take care of the bite.

Excuses kept piling up, one after another, and the pulsing, searing pain of the bite became easier to ignore. That meant it was healing, right?

But one month later, the bite was still as open and ugly as it had been when the bat latched on, and he had to face the facts.

“You okay over there?” Eddie asked from his bed.

He was mostly mobile, but moved much slower than he used to and had a lot of aches and pains from still-healing scar tissue. He rested in bed more than he did anything else, and Steve usually kept him company long after everyone else left.

“Yeah, think I’m just tired.”

He was tired. But he was also in pain, and could feel the sweat beading on his forehead as he clenched his jaw to avoid groaning.

He’d just moved wrong a little while ago and the pain wasn’t subsiding like it usually did. He’d be fine.

“You’re pretty pale, Stevie.”

“Might be coming down with something,” he shrugged it off. It could be true, after all. He was feeling feverish.

“Oh! Meant to ask you the other day. How’s that bite doing?” Eddie asked casually.

Too casually.

Steve stared back at him, eyes squinting in suspicion.

“It’s fine.”

“Yeah? Mine’s kinda hurting still. Can’t bend down all the way.”

Still so casual.

“Yours was worse than mine, man.”

Eddie nodded, seemingly accepting that as a response, almost looking like he was going to move on.

“I saw a doctor for mine. Many doctors. A few nurses. One government person who took an hour bandaging it up. Not sure what that was about,” Eddie shook himself out of a thought. “But you didn’t see anyone, did you?”

Steve bit his lip.

“No. But mine wasn’t that bad. It’s healing.”

Eddie put his notebook down and took in Steve’s posture. Steve tried to sit up straighter in the desk chair he was lounging in, but as soon as he tried, he let out a hiss and small whimper.

“Let me see it.”

Eddie’s tone was short, serious, something Steve had never heard from him before.

He stood up slowly, wincing as the area around the bite pulled painfully.

Eddie slowly moved to the edge of his bed and parted his legs, waving his hand to get Steve to come closer.

Steve moved closer, ignoring the way his stomach fluttered when Eddie’s hand gripped his uninjured hip to tug him even closer.

His other hand lifted Steve’s shirt up enough to see the wound.

“Steve,” he breathed out. “This needs to be stitched up. It’s too deep to heal on its own. You’ve just been walking around with this?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s gotten a little better.”

Eddie looked up at him with wide eyes.

“This is better?”

Steve nodded.

“This is. Steve, does Robin know it’s this bad?”

Steve shook his head.

“Does anyone?”

Steve shook his head again.

“Alright. I’m fixing this.” Eddie started to get up, gently pushing Steve away from him, but not removing his hand from his hip. “You lay down. I’m grabbing my sewing kit and alcohol.”

“Wait. What?” Steve felt himself panic. “You can’t- you’re not!”

“Steve. Do what I tell you to do before I call Robin and tell her you’ve been ignoring a fucking demobat bite for a month.”

So Steve got as comfortable as he could on the bed, lifted his shirt up to his chest, and waited.

Eddie took his time, but Steve didn’t mind, would much rather wait than Eddie hurt himself worse.

Eventually, Eddie came back and pulled the chair to the side of the bed.

He worked slowly, but confidently. He gave Steve a pillow to hold so he wouldn’t flinch too much while he worked, closing up the main part of the bite so it could actually heal.

When he was done, he bandaged it up tight, and then traced the edges of the bandage.

“Why didn’t you say something?” He whispered.

“Didn’t think it was that bad,” Steve whispered back.

“You didn’t think an open wound like that was bad? Jesus.” Eddie shook his head. “I knew you were self-sacrificial, but this is insane. You can’t hide this shit, Stevie. You could get an infection, you could die.”

Steve gulped.

He’d considered it a few times, but figured he would have already ended up in the hospital if it was going to happen.

“Yeah. But you fixed it, so I’ll be fine.”

“You better let me change your bandages every day for the next week so I can make sure it’s healing right.”

“Won’t that get annoying?” Steve asked.

Eddie didn’t answer for a moment, just watched as Steve pulled his shirt back down.

And then his lips were gently pressing against Steve’s forehead, lingering heat making Steve close his eyes.

“You could never annoy me. The only thing annoying to me is that you thought that being taken care of was annoying,” Eddie said, lips still resting against Steve’s skin, his breath almost tickling.

“So you’re my nurse, now?” Steve asked with a smirk.

Eddie pulled back and cupped his cheek.

“Yep. You better be a good patient.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll steal your hairspray.”

Steve gasped.

“You wouldn’t!”

“I would. So you better do as I say and make sure you take care of this.”

“Fine. Do I get a real kiss for being on my best behavior?”

Eddie bit his bottom lip, his cheeks going red.

“Maybe if you make room for me in bed.”

“Deal.”

[lewdmommie]

🕷️Caught in your web🕷️

Miguel O’haraxspiderwoman!reader

Warning:18+NSFW,Breeding,Praise,language,violence, blood play, rough sex, Bondage, size kink etc

Summary: Spider y/n falls through a portal and ends up in the year 2099

Comment if you’d like part 2🎀

Word count: 5.k

The cuffs around your wrist squeeze tighter the more you struggle against them. That weird electric prickly feeling begins to set in before you decide to conserve your energy. It was useless with your web supply cut off, A burning sears across your cheek as the guard delivers another blow. A metallic taste of blood pools in your mouth,you spit resentfully at his army green boots.

“If that’s all you got we’re gonna be here all day.” You sneer. The guard raises his hand pulling back with more momentum than before, striking you again. Your head hangs with exhaustion, sweat dripping onto the concrete floor. “The serum. I want it.” The sound of calculated clicks fill the space as a voice makes its way closer and closer. The footsteps get louder before stopping completely, Your spidey senses are off the charts. A calloused finger taps the underside of your chin putting your bloodied face on display. “Fascinating…your wounds have already started repairing themselves” your head whips away from his touch,repulsed. He continues “That serum is the missing link to a suit that could withstand the molecular pressure of traveling through the multiverse. The human body is far too fragile to have its cells ripped apart and woven back together, trust me we’ve tested that theory.” The blind fold is snatched away from your eyes. You squint at the sudden change in lighting, the room is fuzzy before coming into focus. You’re in what seems to be a warehouse… a huge warehouse. This building had to be connected to something bigger and judging by the advanced technology, Array of computers, and Enormous Hexagonal machine at the center of the room, it was most likely a laboratory of some kind. A man in a midnight suit towers over you with an unhinged look in his eye. “You’re my missing link.” He practically drools. A feeling of dread stabs you, this wasn't looking good.

“You’ll have to kill me. Oh wait you can’t… because… your missing link…it’s in my head.” You smile giving a small labored laugh.

“Oh Doctor Y/LN who needs your mind when I have your body. These powers you have…I assume you weren’t born this way. This isn’t some comic book fairytale. People aren’t born special. We make ourselves special…and that’s exactly what you did, isn't it doctor?” He crouches glaring deeply into your eyes.

“I am going to wring every last drop of serum from your body, you will be nothing but a husk when I am done with you.” He grins before shooting back to his feet.

“Activate the machine and get her hooked up to the destabilizer. I want this thing up and running by tonight” He places a cigarette between his lips, striking it with a gold plated lighter, smoke swirls in the air.

“Kill her nice and slow for wasting so much of my time.” He Flicks the still burning cigarette in your direction,the red hot cherry barely missing your skin.

Two guards force you to your feet, dragging you to a chair riddled with tubes and wires.

Shit.shit.shit. You think, going limp and using your body weight to slow them down. They unlock your handcuffs in order to strap you into the machine, without thinking you shoot two webs in random directions grabbing whatever they land on and yank them towards the guards. A desk and filing shelf come flying at the men knocking them unconscious. You attempt to shoot a web at the guard who stood at the entrance but they unfortunately got away, you hear them call for backup on their radio.

I’m outnumbered… your mind races

A red button in the middle of the control center catches your eye.

That’s my way out, you conclude flipping over the unconscious men and landing gracefully on top of the command center.

Big scary red button…what can go wrong? With nothing to lose you slam the button. The machine activates with an obnoxious roar, lights begin to flicker from the insane power output. You walk up the stairs leading to the device, it seems to be made up of millions of tiny pixels, each spec representing a possible reality or dimension. Colors you didn’t even know existed vibrated within this portal.

“Don’t you dare! This is my life’s work!” A guttural scream shreds the air.

“Well I guess…better luck next life?” You give a cheeky salute before falling into the unknown.

~

“ay dios mío, I don’t need a spidey sense to see she’s wearing a suit.” The voice sounds distant but close enough for you to make out their conversation. “Yes I am sure, I checked, there are web shooters…right, she hasn’t woken up yet…Okay.” he sighs. Your eyes flutter open and you’re greeted by a blue sky and fluffy white clouds. A Dark shadow cast over your view before you can fully appreciate it. Another me?… you think to yourself unsure if you’re seeing things right or if it’s a hallucination from the interdimensional travel.

“Where am I?” You push off the ground with a grunt.

“Nueva York” He states with an annoyed tone.

“Nueva York? You mean New York City? How did I end up in New York City…” You ramble frantically.

“Idiota, Nueva York, have you been living under a rock for the last century?” He kneels down edging forward evaluating your features. With a curious hand, he brushes your hair back. You wince as his finger accidentally glides over the fresh slash on your cheek. For a split second his eyes go wide with concern before resting back to judgemental slits.

“What happened here?” His hand hovers over your wound, keeping a good distance to avoid hurting you any further. Miguel didn’t have many moral compasses but one of his top three rules was to always protect women and children. Any villains who dared make the mistake of harming either were given no mercy. Killing was never his first option, but it wasn’t completely off the table if needed. His blood boils at the sight of you, his instinct is to destroy whoever would do something so vile. His teeth bare down, the tips of his fangs prick the smooth skin of his inner lip, a subtle hint of blood hits his tongue.

“Who did this to you?” He asks again, more aggressive than before.

“The Director.” You mutter. Running from a fight wasn’t in your nature but The Director’s forces were too much to handle. You needed to get away, regroup, and being shackled to a cold slab of metal wasn’t the best place to do that.

“Director, most likely a new wannabe villain…leave this to me. You’ve had enough fun playing dress up for one day.” He says as he gets back up. His eyebrow perks inquisitively for a second before turning around. “Cool toy by the way.” He waves off. Impulsively you shoot a web that whips around his ankles holding him in place. Knees bending Miguel centers himself, stabilizing his balance.

“How’s that for a toy?” You push off the ground, palms flat, landing a forward front flip straight onto your feet.

You approach cautiously, nearly walking on the tips of your toes, he doesn’t budge or even speak. He looks dangerous, measuring in at 6'9, his chiseled physique, red eyes that seemed to see right through you, and fangs didn’t help much with looking friendly. Standing at arm's length. You speak slowly.

“I’m not here to fight-”

“Wouldn’t be much of a fight.” he growls, baring his claws.

“It’s my turn for questioning.” You say.

“You must have stolen that device. I will have to detain you.” He lunges at you stumbling clumsily.

“What’s your name?” You question. Miguel stays silent for a while pondering if he should give out such sensitive information to an imposter.

“Isn’t it obvious,Spider-Man.” He states finally looking down at the red spider symbol on his suit.

“This can’t be real. It couldn’t have actually worked. I thought I’d get sent to a McDonald’s a few blocks away or something…I’m really in a different universe” you grumble to yourself, pacing back and forth.

“Are you on something right now?” His brow scrunches accentuating the lines in his forehead.

“W-what do you mean by that! Are you asking if I’m on drugs?” You’re snatched away from your personal monologue by his ludicrous accusation.

“It’s alright I'm used to super fans, just tell me where you live and I can get you back home safely.”

“Super fans? Do you think I’m supposed to be dressed up as you? My suit is way better than yours; if anything you’re cosplaying me!” You wince, doubling over, the adrenaline has started wearing off.

“You need a hospital. Libérame(set me free), I can help you.” He struggles against your webs once more,failing to break free.

“I am fine I just need to rest for…a…minute-“ your words trail off.

Miguel breaks into action, the webs resist before shredding apart as he surges forward catching you in his solid arms.

“Joder(fuck),she’s out cold” he supports your body. His web shoots, sticking to the opposite building. A strong arm locks you in place as he jumps swinging through the maze of businesses and skyscrapers.

~

shooting up in a cold sweat, your chest heaves heavily struggling for breath.

“Just a dream” you exhale relieved holding the blanket to your bare chest.

“Oh great,You’re awake.” At the corner of the room Spider-Man leans against the wall,smirking.

Your hands scramble for more blanket to shield your nude body.

“Where are my clothes?!” A hot blush creeps on your cheeks.

“I haven’t quite figured that out myself, some time after you passed out your…suit somehow submerged itself into your flesh. Disintegrating right in front of my eyes” He looks down stroking his chin.

“The suit deactivated because of my low brain activity, it thought I was transforming back. Oh god did you see anything?” You ask curling into yourself.

“Wasn’t much to see.” He shrugs.

You scoff before noticing a fresh set of clothes sprawled in the chair beside the bed.

“I came to let you know where the bathroom is, I’m sure you want to get cleaned up after everything that’s happened.”

“Why did you bring me here…and where is here exactly?”

“This is my place. I couldn’t just leave a fellow spider person unconscious on a rooftop. It doesn’t really help the brand. Whatever you have inside you is way too powerful to let a villian get lucky and stumble upon.” He explains. So it’s about my powers huh? Typical. You think holding eye contact with the spider jerk. The color of his eyes stand out to you, their vibrant red hue shines in the dim light. The more you observe him the more intense his features become, he’s extremely handsome under that constant grimace. You find your eyes lingering on his spandex clad body, tracing how the fabric molds to the shape of each muscle. So tight you could see even the slightest twitch or flex. He folds his arms awaiting your reply, This movement forces you to look down at the sheets,flustered.

“Y-yeah that’s true, thanks, I’ll uh go take that shower now.”

“The bathrooms down the hall to the left, I have towels folded on the sink along with toiletries. Have a nice bath…you need it.” He holds his nostrils closed exiting the room dramatically.

Lifting your arm you take a quick sniff. Your nose scrunches at the smell of battle. Interdimensional travel is quite the workout. Your toes wiggle on the cool hardwood floor seeing if it’d crumble underneath your feet. To your surprise it doesn’t, meaning this place is actually real life and not just some simulation. Peeking your head from behind the security of the door frame, you scan the area before scurrying down the hall. Miguel stands in the living area mumbling something under his breath.

“So her picture is nowhere in the police database?…no, ugh Tan molesto(so annoying), check again lyla.” He commands.

He really thinks I’m a crazy stalker fan you think in disbelief, you sneak down the hall stepping through the open bathroom door, you close it behind yourself . The bathroom had dark simplistic themes with splashes of red that popped. The sink and bathtub are made with the same charcoal colored marble, the sink is neatly decorated with necessities such as a toothbrush, electric razor, hair brush, cologne and deodorant. To the left of the sink are expertly folded black towels, one for washing and one for drying. The mirror is larger than average and sits rectangular at the same length as the sink.Turning around a glimpse of your back stops you in your tracks. The wounds have closed but the scars and bruises remain. A reminder of your goal…to take down the director. Your fingers trail the scar on your cheek and anger

bubbles from a place deep within . He’d taken everything from you and he had a debt to pay for those atrocities. You wanted his life as payment. Pulling back the scarlet shower curtain you twist the handle all the way to hot, nothing was better than a steaming hot shower to wash away a day. Grabbing the small washcloth you unroll it and step into the tub, holding it under the water before lathering with the body wash propped at the edge of the bathtub. It smelled strongly of musk and deep woody undertones befitting for an attractive egotistical Superhero. The scent of him causes your thighs to squeeze shut as the throbbing sets in. You close your eyes, gliding the towel slowly over your skin imagining his touch. Your head falls back as the towel travels up your neck, the muscles in your throat contract as you swallow back a moan imagining his large hands gripping you there. Washing your chest the fibers of the towel cause a gentle friction over your now stiff nipples earning a small yelp from you. Everything is feeling too good. The bathroom is steamy, the scent of him floating all around you. Absent-mindedly your fingers slide down the length of your stomach trailing a line to your pulsating heat. The hot shower stream collides with your sensitive flesh. The water sprays firmly on your chest stimulating your taut pearls. It’s too much to handle, behind your eye lids you can see him stepping into this shower and fucking you ruthlessly against the shower wall. That rebellious finger teases the slick line of your womanhood, just barely pushing past the soft folds. The tip of your finger slides over your slippery bud, a soft moan falls from your lips. Miguel notices you’ve been in the shower for some time now and begins to worry for your well-being. Just as his fist hovers over the door to knock, he is stopped in his tracks at the sound of desperate whimpers and groans. She isn’t…she couldn’t be. He shakes away the notion concluding you may just be sick from today's events. Regardless he didn’t want to disturb you unless you called for him. For some reason he couldn’t seem to walk away from the door, on the contrary he takes a step closer, curiosity getting the better of him. His heart rate skyrockets as he listens intently.

“Uhn p-please touch me…please.” You beg.

The tips of his ears are warm with blush. The crotch of his suit tightens, suffocating the raging hard on he desperately tries to suppress. His forehead rests on the door as he tries to slow his heavy breathing. Blood rushes through his veins enhancing his already heightened senses. It’s almost as if he could feel you through the wall, the only thing separating him was the door,which he could break down with ease. His lips part exposing sharp ivory fangs, his breath is labored and his body shaking with need. He needed to release these feelings deep inside you. breaking down that door and completely having his way with you on the bathroom floor was the only way to tame the fire burning deep inside him. Every muscle in his body tensed and quivered as he became solid with arousal. I need her. I need to be inside her now. A voice growls in his mind. Suddenly the water cuts off. He steps away from the door chest heaving up and down. Biting his lip he walks away, going into his bedroom to find a change of clothes that will allow his throbbing erection to feel a bit more comfortable. You grab the dry off towel and secure it around your frame.

The clothes. You think realizing they were left in the bedroom.

With a quick peek outside, the coast is clear the spider jerk is nowhere in sight so you B line it to the bedroom. An audible gasp escapes as you cover your mouth in shock. There he stood half naked wearing only a pair of navy blue briefs. His body could have been sculpted by gods, never had you seen someone so beautiful. He turns around glaring at you through his curly hair, eyes gleaming like ruby’s.

“I-I left my clothes, I’m sorry I didn’t know you were in here.” You quickly look away, the image still fresh in your mind.

“It’s fine. I was just changing.” He slips on his white tee shirt, closing the drawer.

“Right of course this is your room, in your house, and your clothes…” you ramble.

“Yeah. Sure. Hurry and get dressed, we need to talk.” He says with an unamused tone.

“O-kay!” He bumps your shoulder as he exits the room.

“Ouch.” You exclaim, holding your arm.

Grumbling angrily under your breath, you pick up the oversized tee and shorts combo. The clothes swallow you naturally considering his massive size. You make your way to the living room. your hands work tying your hair back as you sit on the opposite side of the couch watching him closely.

“I was thinking about your suit.” He starts.

“Please don’t bring up how I was naked earlier.” You plead hiding your face.

“W- no I’m not talking about…that.” His voice becomes deeper as he rubs the back of his neck reminiscing on how hard the sound of your voice made him just minutes ago.

“I’m talking about the technology. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen…something that hasn’t been explored, Ever. Something almost otherworldly.” He scratches his head in confusion.

“Okay so now do you believe I’m not some psycho fangirl?”

“It isn’t completely off the table. But if you are really a spider person…prove it. Prove it isn’t some kind of illusion.” He leans back, arms stretched across the back of the couch, his legs parted comfortably. You can’t help your eyes wandering to the visible bulge that tented between his thighs.

“What was the question again?” Your eyes are glossy and cheeks flustered. Miguel follows your line of vision seeing the lustful gaze consume you. His cock twitches, making him shoot up, using his arms to cover the evidence.

“Prove you have powers!” He raises his voice slightly.

“Okay okay no need to yell.” You stand taking a few steps away from the couch.

His eyes follow you curiously as you stop about three feet in front of him. In mere seconds his hands are forced together by a string of abnormally strong webbing. Wrapping the loose string Around your palm,you pull yanking him to his feet.

“The more you struggle the tighter it becomes.” You inform him. His eyes are low and his lips have a rosy hot blush. You advance forward using the remaining web to bind his wrist tighter. With one final pull it is secured firmly in place.

“ Te deseo tanto(I want you so much)” Miguel moans before quickly regaining his composure.

“Huh what does that mean?” You inquire unsure if you heard him correctly.

“N-nothing it doesn’t mean anything. Where are the webs coming from?”

“Here.” You point to your wrist.

“Then why do you have a web shooter? Sounds like a trick to me.” He says through clenched teeth.

“The shooter strengthens the quality of my webs. It wouldn't be fun swinging fifty feet in the air and having a web break on you.”

“That’s true. You seem to have some experience with this lifestyle. I can assume you’ve been this way for a long time.”

“Yeah…a few years actually.” You sound far away.

“I can’t believe another spider person has gone undetected for so long.” He looks deep in thought.

“I'm not from here exactly.”

“Did you move from a different state? A lot of things have changed after the Heroic age so it would make sense you were in hiding-“ he speaks matter-a factly.

“What year is it?” You interrupt.

“Year? I think you might have hit your head pretty hard. It's the year 2099 don’t you remember?” The world starts spinning around you.

“20…99.You’re Spider-Man from the year 2099? This isn’t right, I shouldn't be here!” Tears stream down your face as you realize just how far away from home you really are.

Without thinking he lifts his bound hands over your head pulling you flush against his rock solid chest.

His chin nestles in your hair, you can feel his warm breath on your cheek. With each sob he pulls you closer,deeper into him.

“Eres demasiado bonita para llorar.” He whispers in your ear. The sudden change in language catches your attention, halting the flow of tears.

“W-what does that mean?” Your head leans back, staring up at him with blurry eyes.

“You’re too pretty to cry.” He breathes.

Giving into the temptation his arms lock around your waist hoisting you to his eye level. You nod, wanting to listen to the only thing that made sense in that moment ,the only thing that felt real…your body. He exhales a sigh of relief at your nod of consent taking advantage of your position he closes the distance with his lips. You hadn’t even recognized the amount of tension in your body until completely relaxing in his arms. The kiss is hungry as you two struggle for power, he clearly wants to take control but you wouldn’t make it that easy. You snake your arms out of his grasp, tangling your hands in his chestnut curls. Your feet are dangling off the ground, taking advantage of this you wrap your legs around his waist. His tongue sneakily slips past your lips petting the inside of your mouth, tasting you for the very first time.

“Tan deliciosa(so delicious)” he mumbles into your mouth.

His warm wet appendage entangles with your eager tongue dancing together in a tango of passion. With a pained groan he forces his wrist apart breaking through the barrier of your webs, desperate to touch you.

“Need…more” he is no longer able to articulate full sentences. The lust drowns him and he pulls you down with him. His now free hands roam your body leaving no place undiscovered. His giant hand grips the back of your neck pulling you deeper into the kiss. He holds you still as he finds solace in your lips, there is no place he’d rather be in this moment than Buried hilt deep inside your walls. His other hand grips your ass kneading the soft skin. As you begin to slip, he bounces you with one arm, holding you even tighter. He blindly sits down on the couch, a bit of a bumpy ride but you land gently straddling his hips. He pulls away to stare fervently at you with rose colored eyes. Without bothering to remove your shirt in a humane way, he slashed a talon between your breasts, roughly splitting the fabric.

“So fucking beautiful” he runs his tongue up the length of your torso all the way to your neck. You tremble beneath his touch. He plants warm kisses up your throat, sucking and nipping the smooth flesh. His fang pokes dangerously close with each lap, threatening to sink in at any moment. He softly bares down breaking just the surface of your skin, a small trickle of blood pools at both sides of the bite. You gasp at the sudden pain but quickly melt as he licks it away. The fact you’re both spider people his venom doesn’t work the same way it would on a human. It is not poisonous or toxic. Your body processes it by turning it into dopamine intensifying your bodily sensitivity. The effects take action immediately; electricity vibrates every cell in your body.

“W-wait i don’t even know your name…your real name.” You huff trying to catch your breath.

“Miguel. Yours?” He smiles, the lines in his face stand out making him look even more charming.

“Y/n” your eyes move side to side as he leans in again this time lower.

“Nice to meet you, Now por favor fóllame(please fuck me)

“Oh god…ah…please” you plead as he sucks your erect peaks. He sucks and teases your nipples, he moans as you grab his hair for support.

“Uhn…mamita harder, pull harder” he groans, flicking his tongue over your hard pearls. You obey, pulling with a little more force than before. A shiver runs down his spine, his eyes flutter as they roll back.

In an instant he turns around flipping you onto your back, he kneels between your legs on the living room floor. He ejects a web plastering your ankles together. Your back is flat on the couch cushion and your lower half hangs being supported only by his firm grip on your ankles. Just as before he doesn’t bother with removing your bottoms. He lifts your legs up, creating tension in the fabric and slicing at the resistance point splitting the shorts in two exposing your eager slit.

“Oh dios te necesito ahora(oh god I need you right now)” he pants.

Using the hand grasping your ankles, he pushes your legs back putting your plush entrance on display. He salivates at the sight of you so vulnerable and open before him, the muscles in your legs tremble as he bends down splaying soft kisses on your inner thighs. You can feel his warm breath on your wet folds. A growl rumbles in his throat as he traces the line of your flower with his tongue, savoring your nectar .

“f-fuck…s-so good” you moan, biting back a scream of pleasure. Utilizing his free hand, he teases your slick canal with two thick digits before easing them inside. His tongue and fingers work in unison petting your inner and outer sweet spots. Never had he felt someone so tight and inviting, his cock twitches as your walls squeeze his fingers. Pumping his fingers in and out he simultaneously licks your clit, sucking and lapping at the bundle of nerves. Your hips buck and hands find his hair grinding deeper into his touch. He picks up the pace as your pussy quivers. his head moves rhythmically as he absolutely devours you. His chin is slick with your juices as he licks and sucks every inch of your inner labia. Your legs twitch and shake as the climax edges near, maintaining the same speed he pushes you past your breaking point.

“Can’t take anymore…i-its too much.” You sob gripping him tighter.

“It’s okay estás haciendo un buen trabajo(You’re doing such a good job) don’t give up on me…that’s it…good girl.” He praises finger fucking you through your orgasm. With a final yelp the gates open and you cum harder than you’ve came before, coating his fingers in your delicious cream. Slow and gently he slips his fingers from your spent cunt leaving you shivering and incoherent. Instinctively he puts those same fingers in his mouth sucking away the mess you made. Before you can even think of catching your breath, he sits up removing the barrier of his shirt and shorts. The elastic waistband of his shorts slides down exposing the defined V lines on his hips. His throbbing manhood burst free, the veins pulsing visibly with frustration. His head hangs hiding his red hot blush and low set eyelids, this feeling could only be described as animalistic. Using his fangs he shreds the webbing holding your ankles in place, setting you free. Your knees fall in exhaustion at either side of you giving him full access to your cunt once again. He towers over you, hands on the back of the couch to support his massive weight. You feel his cock fall thick and heavy on your glistening lips. He breathes deeply, rubbing his member along your split, his mouth opens slightly a pained expression pulls to his face.

“Me vuelves loca(you drive me crazy) I can’t wait anymore.” He growls lining his tip with your slick hole. He plunges deep and desperately inside you, his claws slice the back of the couch as he ruts into you. Those piercing red eyes bore into yours as he pistons into your pillowy heat. Your pussy clenches sucking him in further, the tip of his cock slams your g spot with each stroke. The grooves of your inner walls massage all eight inches of his thick rod.

“Me encanta tu cuerpo(I love your body)…te sientes muy bien(you feel so good)…No puedo resistirme a ti(I can’t resist you)” he groans low in your ear. He places his calloused hand under your knee pushing it back and opening you wider. He pumps in and out at a fervent pace, suddenly he switches the position of his hands to rest on your hips. With his Cock buried deep inside you, he stands hoisting you by your waist. Naturally your legs hang around his hips leaving you at his mercy. You’re a frightening 6’9 inches from the ground being fucked like a rag doll. His hands grip your ass as he rocks you back and forth on his dick. Your toes curl as he rails you slamming up while forcing you down on his cock. It’s hard and needy. He can’t control himself, his talons prick your flesh as he grips you tightly. His manhood throbs begging for release,head falling back as he forces you up and down on his shaft.

“Need to cum…can’t hold it f-fuck.” With a final thrust he slams deep within exploding and spraying your walls with hot cum. He holds you close as his body trembles, a thin layer of sweat glistens on his body. His cock twitches still hard inside you.

“Another round,hermosa(beautiful)?” He pants.

“Yes please.” You breathe.

[pictureinme]

kinktober day vii. OVERSTIMULATION – jonathan crane

word count: ~800 tags: bondage, sex toys, s/m masterlist | ao3

“Come on, you can’t be tired already, (Y/N),” Jonathan’s words were distant as he held a small, barely buzzing vibrator against your clit, “You’ve only orgasmed 3 times if you’ve counted truthfully.”

You know he didn’t really expect you to respond in your condition, but you still tried with a broken whine.

For the past hour, Dr. Jonathan Crane has been teasing and playing with you, all while you’re strapped to your shared bed by the arms and legs. He loved seeing you like this, pliant and supine, as he always told you. A toy, a plaything he would experiment with various items and techniques on. You loved every second of it, even if it ended up in your being sore for a week straight.

He always took great care in helping you heal though, using the best methods available to heal your bruises or cuts. Jonathan wasn’t a cruel man, at least not to you. Hopelessly sadistic, yes; evil, no.

You clench weakly around the plug in your hole while he moves the overused toy away from your clit. Jonathan returns with a much longer vibrator, one that reaches the most delicious part inside of you. You bite your lip weakly as he prods it against your entrance– he hadn’t entered you once the entire evening, so this was a very welcome sensation. Your eyes, lidded, gaze at him as he analyzes each and every reaction you so lovingly gave him.

Jonathan’s expression was unreadable as he turned the toy to its lowest setting, even as your back arched instantaneously. The feeling of relief you felt as he entered you with the rather long vibrator was indescribable– it just felt right. The tremors it was creating within you, even at its lowest, were delicious and you couldn’t help but beg for more.

“Jonny, please…” 

Even those two words were barely understood by him, but he got the message loud and clear, “There’s my good girl.”

He turns it up, per your vague request, and your eyes shut tightly at the sensations it was creating. You mewl at the pleasure as he thrusts it shallowly within you, not yet reaching the area it was built to.

“You look perfect like this, (Y/N),” Jonathan hums, cocking his head as the toy hits a particularly pleasurable spot inside of you. “All fucked out of your mind.”

Nodding mindlessly, you try your best to angle your hips so it can that familiar spot again and again, and he allows you to do so. His movements were calculated, compiled from months of studying your body and its various reactions to his touch– he knew how to make you fall apart and was, thus, addicted to it.

The toy rubs against that part inside of you, and Jonathan moves it to practically bruise your soft walls. You thrash against the restraints, something you’ve done enough in the past hour to redden your ankles and wrists– you were close again.

“Jon– fuck– ‘m close, please, God!”

He laughs at your high-pitched plea and it only makes you whine further into the pleasure, “I haven’t even changed the setting, dear. Are you really that sensitive now?”

As if on command, he ups the vibrations by one, and you feel your mind go white as your entire body spasms– as much as it can, with the restraints. The orgasm overtook you like no other, it was beyond painful but you couldn’t help but moan the loudest you had that night.

Your eyes were shut the whole time, but you knew Jonathan’s eyes were nowhere else but on you. As you ride out the final sparks of your release, he slowly moves the vibrator out of you, and onto your clit. You choke on a gasp at the stimulation– it was searing hot, on the cusp of being too much. The noises you made were unintelligible, even you didn’t know what you were saying, but it was mostly a flurry of curses.

Jonathan cooed at you as he lowered the setting back down to a base level, “Come on, you can do it for me again, can’t you? Don’t you want to be a good girl?”

There was really no choice in the matter, you were already orgasming again by the end of his sentence. Your release was the biggest yet– it wettened not only the bedspread beneath your thighs but the front of Jonathan’s shirt. You were beyond inebriated from the pleasure, only sobering when he removed both the vibrator and the plug in your ass– slowly, so as to not cause any more harm, but you still whined beyond belief.

Your eyes squint open, gazing upon the heavily breathing man before you. His eyes glinted with something you hadn’t seen outside of his place of work: a very specific kind of sadistic pleasure, only dampened by some sense of satisfaction.

“My perfect little one,” Jonathan moves to crawl on top of you, unzipping his pants quickly, “You’re gonna be good for me, right?”

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Baby, Now We Got Bad Blood

A/N: So, we're told in ACOMAF and ACOWAR that mating instincts ride the males hard and that you should never come between a male and his mate, but one of my biggest gripes with ACOSF is that we never really see that from Cassian. Like come on, SJM! I want to see the Lord of Bloodshed go into Mate Mode(tm)! And so, I decided to write this. I recognize it may not be everyone's cup of tea, so remember that the back button is free, but for everyone else, enjoy! :)

Read on AO3

The tug between Cassian’s ribs is so sudden, so harsh, that he almost drops to his knees right then and there. That golden thread securely tucked there squeezes tight enough that it steals the breath straight from his lungs, twisting and writhing in his chest until he can do nothing except press a palm against his side in hopes of alleviating the pain, until he's sure that he must be bruised. He’s half aware of Devlon watching him curiously, of the other camp lords still sitting around the table, but all Cassian can focus on is the way his blood has run cold, on the ringing that’s taken up home in his ears all from that one tug.

Tentatively, he reaches for the golden thread within himself, sending his confusion and concern down the bond. He skates a finger along it, keeping his touch featherlight, before he plucks, a small, urging question. And then, with bated breath, he waits. Waits for the tug in response. Waits for the soothing feeling that’s not his own to rush through him and calm his worry.

But it never comes.

In fact, there’s almost nothing on the other end of the bond. Just silence. Just an empty, yawning void that has the hairs on the back of Cassian’s neck standing up, that has the pounding in his ears turning into a deafening roar. Genuine fear sparks through his veins, ice cold where it digs its claws into his mind and sends his heart stuttering. He reaches for that golden thread again, tugging more urgently this time, but still nothing.

Something’s wrong.

Cassian knows that Rhys had sent Nesta and Mor to the human lands on some sort of reconnaissance mission. Azriel’s network had gotten some concerning information through the vine, so the High Lord sent Nesta and Mor to blend in with the women of some village and see if they could get more details. It was supposed to be an easy in, easy out mission. He’d even arranged this war meeting in Illyria for when she was gone so he’d be back in time to welcome her home, even had tickets ready for them for the Velaris ballet.

But now, all he has is a silent bond, that single moment of fear twined in that hard tug that festers and burns with his own.

Without a backward glance, Cassian storms out of the room, ignoring Devlon calling after him. As soon as he steps outside into the biting snow of Illyria, Cassian unfurls his wings wide behind his back and takes to the skies. He keeps a hard and fast pace as he tears through the clouds, pushing himself and pushing himself and pushing himself. His back and wings ache with the exertion, but it’s nothing compared to the ache that throbs in his chest like an open wound. Nothing compared to the bloodied and bruised shreds of his heart at the thought of something happening to Nesta.

His mind keeps playing an endless loop of possibilities, each one worse than the last. He tries to imagine a scenario where it’s all a big misunderstanding, where he arrives back in Velaris and Nesta is there with that softness that takes over her stormy blue eyes when she sees him, with that sweet smile meant only for him, and they’ll laugh about this whole thing. But there’s no denying that niggling doubt, those whispers in the back of his mind. They fuel his fear, taunt him, and soon all Cassian can see each time he blinks is the sight of Nesta’s eyes open but unseeing, the color completely leached from her face, seared on the back of his eyelids.

It drives Cassian to push himself even harder, to fly even faster. Each beat of his wings, each thunderous hammer of his heart, it all pounds in time with that twisting thread between his ribs, in time with that call that blazes through his soul.

Nesta Nesta Nesta

He lands hard enough that his knees groan and ache, but he doesn’t care. He presses his hand against the wards, an incessant flash of red sparking in front of him, and steps inside the River House. Rhys steps into the view at the top of the stairs almost as soon as he’s through the front door, as though he was expecting him. The wariness pinching the corner of his brother’s eyes, the way his lips are pressed into a thin line, it confirms all of Cassian’s worst fears. Bile claws up the back of his throat, tangling with the lump already lodged firmly there.

“Where’s Nesta?” Cassian forces out.

“Cass…” Rhys starts slowly, holding his hands up placatingly. Cassian doesn’t miss the way his brother shifts his feet, resetting his stance like he’s expecting a fight.

Cassian is about to ask his question again when Madja comes bustling into the River House behind him, rushing up the stairs and past Rhys. The sight of the healer jolts Cassian into action, and he follows hot on her heels down the hall and into one of the bedrooms, but his steps stutter to a stop when he realizes it’s Mor sprawled across the blankets, holding her hand against a wound in her side.

Cassian whirls back around, ready to check every other bedroom until he finds his mate, but he comes face to face with Rhys again. His brother is still wearing that cautious expression, face still pinched and body still tense like Cassian is some sort of wounded animal he needs to treat with care.

“Where is Nesta?” Cassian demands again.

Rhys holds his ground and raises his chin, his eyes glancing over Cassian’s shoulder only briefly before landing back on Cassian’s face. “There was an ambush. I don’t know how the mortals knew we’d be there, knew who Mor and Nesta were, but there were two dozen of them… with ash arrows.”

“That didn’t answer my question. Where is she?”

“When I got there, Mor was already badly injured. She was going to bleed out if I didn’t get her out of there and to a healer.”

Cassian can feel his patience hanging on by a thread, stepping closer to Rhy and growling out, “where is my mate?”

Cassian feels the press of Rhys’s magic against him, the darkness that begins to creep and rumble from the corners of the room, as Cassian stares his brother down, but Rhys is unmoving, undeterred. He continues to meet Cassian’s blazing gaze, his face and voice an even calm that grates against the last shreds of Cassian’s nerve endings, the last of his sanity.

“I had to make a choice, and I made it.”

It takes a moment for the words to really sink in, to understand exactly what Rhys is telling him, and when it does, it’s a bucket of ice water over his head. He stumbles back a step in his shock. His stomach roils and drops all the way to his shoes, his blood crystalizing into ice, as he chokes out, “what?”

Rhys looks away then, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I used too much of my magic winnowing there already, and Nesta was too far away. I couldn’t get to her without risking Mor, without risking both of us, so I did what I had to do and winnowed us out of there.”

Cassian doesn’t think he’s breathing. He’s sure that his heart isn’t beating because it’s lost somewhere in the human lands, lost with Nesta. “You…” Cassian swallows hard, finding his voice again. “You left her there? In the middle of an ambush?”

“I’m sorry, Cass. I really am.”

“No, you’re not.”

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Cassian has always known that Rhys isn’t exactly Nesta’s biggest fan. From the moment they met the sisters, from that first meeting at the manor in the mortal lands, Rhys has always held a certain animosity for the eldest Archeron. He’s always held onto that cool resentment on Feyre’s behalf for what happened when the sisters were young. And despite what happened with the human queens, despite what Nesta did during the War, despite what she did for Feyre and Nyx, that tension has never quite dissipated, that contempt is still there.

“If you were really sorry, why didn’t you go back for her?” Cassian continues, shaking his head in disbelief. “After you got Mor back to Velaris, why didn’t you go back?”

Rhys sighs as if this whole conversation is exhausting. “I just told you. My magic was depleted by winnowing that far, and they had ash arrows. I couldn’t risk it.”

“But you could risk Nesta, right?”

Cassian can feel his disbelief at this whole situation quickly morphing into anger. He can feel the heat of it just beneath his skin where it blazes through his veins. The beast deep within his soul thrashes against its restraints, hackles raised at the idea of any harm coming to Nesta. That rage burns and roars as it twists in dark, crackling tendrils in his chest. It urges him to fight, to raze the whole world to the ground until the debt is paid, until all of Prythian understands the mistake of risking the Lord of Bloodshed’s mate.

“It’s what she would have wanted,” Rhys continues, still using that too calm voice. “You know that. Nesta understood the mission, the importance.”

“Don’t you dare!” Cassian snaps, stepping forward again until he and Rhys are toe to toe, glowering down at him. “Don’t you dare speak of her when you left her to die.”

“Calm down,” Rhys speaks slowly, violet eyes flickering in warning.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What if it was Feyre? What if I left Feyre in the middle of an ambush surrounded by ash arrows? What if I left your mate for dead?”

“Don’t.”

The low tone of Rhys’s voice lets Cassian know he’s hit his mark. That magic and darkness presses a little bit harder, those violet eyes turning cold, clearly unimpressed with the underlying threat toward his mate. Cassian almost wants to laugh hysterically, seeing his own feelings mirrored back to him. It’s a sickening type of vindication.

“That’s the difference, isn’t it?” Cassian continues to drawl, not backing down, the red of his siphons flickering in time with Rhys’s own magic. “I would risk it for Feyre. I would go back for her because I know how much she means to you, but you don’t care. You’ve never forgiven Nesta, not really, and now, you finally got the chance to wash your hands clean of her.”

“Cassian—”

“Where?” Cassian interrupts, taking a step back finally and adjusting the straps of his leathers and preparing for a long flight. “Give me the coordinates. I’ll go get Nesta myself.”

Cassian side-steps around Rhys and heads for the stairs, but Rhys is hot on his heels. “Absolutely not. I’m not letting you fly all the way to the mortal lands and potentially walk head first into an attack.”

“Try and stop me,” Cassian dares, whirling around with a snarl of warning. “Being mated and a father has made you soft, Rhysand. Do you really think you could take me?”

The temperature in the room starts to drop, Cassian’s siphons flaring brighter in response as magic scrapes along his spine. He’s been itching for a fight since the moment he stepped through the doors, instincts gnawing at his every nerve ending and riding him hard until his hands are clenching into fists, his fingers twitching with the urge to drive into Rhys’s face.

But he doesn’t have time for this.

Nesta is gods know where in the mortal lands, in the Mother knows what state, and he needs to get to her. He waited five hundred years for her. Five hundred years to hold her. Five hundred years to love her. And he’ll be damned if he loses her now. Damned if he fails her again. Damned if he doesn’t save her when he wasn’t there to protect her in the first place.

He turns back around and storms down the stairs, striding toward the door without looking back. His blood has already started to thunder again, that same beat of Nesta Nesta Nesta as he stretches his wings to warm them up.

“Cassian, stop,” Rhys calls after him, but Cassian merely rolls his eyes. “I am ordering you as your High Lord.”

Cassian can feel the magic of the order as it slinks across his skin, taste it on the back of his tongue, but he’s quick to shake it off with a scoff, yanking open the front door. “Fuck off.”

“You step out that door, you won’t be welcome back in this Court.”

Cassian turns over his shoulder, settling Rhys with a deathly cold look. “Good luck finding a new General then.”

Rhys looks genuinely taken aback by that, blinking a few times in surprise. “You’d really throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for? Everything you’ve ever wanted?”

“Nesta is everything I’ve ever wanted. And you knew that. And you still—” Cassian can’t choke the word out, can’t fathom a world where Nesta, his Nesta, his beautiful, smart, amazing mate is gone.

A world where Rhys killed her.

With one last shake of his head, Cassian steps out of the River House and onto the streets of Velaris, the door slamming behind him. It feels strange and wrong to step onto these streets knowing Nesta isn’t here. Knowing that her quiet steps won’t fill the bookshop in the Rainbow. Knowing that her soft laughter won’t fill her favorite bakery by the river. That fear from before grips Cassian tight enough that his steps almost stumble, but he stretches his wings out wide behind him nonetheless, siphons flaring in anticipation.

He’s going to get her back. Even if it’s the last thing he does.

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld​ @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @girl-of-many-floods @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head

[aanoia]

Orphic (pt.1)

pairing; Ao'nung x Sully!reader Orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing; beyond ordinary understanding words; 3,719 warnings; injury, mentions of death Pt. 2; Pt. 3 Important note; this is sort of a continuation of a previous story that can be found on my Wattpad. It's not required to read that story, in fact it was written years ago (now it's very poorly written, but then it was my best writing). It will give backstory on your parents. Speaking of your parents, you were born to Tsu'tey and Y/n. Tsu'tey died the same death as in the movie, and Y/n died during childbirth. Jake and Neytiri took you in and named you after your mother. You're basically twins with Neteyam :) Bold is English :) the normal text is Na'vi

Decided to stray from my Marauders era for the time being, as I rewatched the Avatar movies and that phase is coming back. This is mostly a trial to see if I want to post this series on Tumblr, or just on Wattpad. The format will probably change a bit as time goes on :)

The ground beneath her rushes past as her ikran races through the air, following closely behind the group of older warriors. She stays steady on her ikran, completely in tune with her surroundings as her sharp eyes scan across the moving terrain. The unpleasant hum of the skywalker machines fill her ears, and her lip subconsciously curls into a sneer. Into view comes a train upon its foreign tracks, two helicopter-like vehicles hovering above it. 

“Ground team, move.” Her father’s voice instructs in her ear. The track explodes, sending the front of the train flying and causing the aircrafts to veer off track. The experienced warriors dive, and she aches to follow suit, but she refrains. Only two others stay high in the sky, her brothers, Neteyam and Lo’ak. She knows they crave the same thing she does, to go down and fight with the others. However, their father’s orders echo in their minds. The group of Na’vi work swiftly, bringing down the aircrafts and searching through the various cargo bins.

“Yo, we have got to get down there,” Lo’ak says, looking at his elder siblings with an excited look on his face.

“No way! Dad will skin us!” Neteyam protests.

  “Come on, don’t be a wuss!” Lo’ak half shrugs, and his ikran changes directions, beginning to dive.

Y/n sighs, glancing at Neteyam, “Come on, little brother, we can’t let him have all the fun.” She grins, and flies after Lo’ak.

“Lo’ak! Y/n! Get back here- argh!” Neteyam groans, before reluctantly going along with them. The trio land, and Y/n gracefully dismounts her ikran, swinging her bow across her shoulder. Once again, she’s scanning her surroundings, taking note of any possible dangers, anything that could hurt her brothers.

“Come on, let’s go!” Lo’ak urges, already running into action.

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam growls, running after the boy. 

Said boy runs to a supply crate, where a warrior hands him a gun. “Go boy, take it.” Lo’ak happily takes the firearm, ululating proudly. Y/n and Neteyam walk towards him, the latter rather pissed off. 

“You don’t even know how to use it.” He sneers, glancing distastefully at the gun in his hand.

Lo’ak successfully loads the gun, a smug grin on his face, “Dad taught me.” He raises the gun in the air, pretending to aim at something. “I bet you can’t aim.”

Y/n rolls her eyes, “Lo’ak, you can’t either.”

“Yeah- but I bet he’s worse than I am.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Neteyam mutters. A warrior calls out, and once again their father’s voice fills the air.

“Gunship’s inbound! Fall back!” He yells, and the three kids immediately take off to their ikrans. Neteyam urges the two others to run faster, and they all push. However, their efforts are in vain as an explosive goes off behind them, sending the three flying in the air. Y/n yelps, landing on a jagged piece of metal. She hisses at the pain searing through her back. She sits up, reaching behind her to find her fingers coated in a wet substance.

“Shit, dad is gonna kill me.” She mutters to herself, pushing herself to her feet. “Neteyam!? Lo’ak!?” She spots her father, turning over a blue body. She rushes over, dread filling her body. “Dad- is that-”

Neteyam groans, his face scrunched in pain, “Dad?”

Jake takes Neteyam by the back of his neck, lifting him up to check his back for any injuries. Upon seeing none, he growls at the boy. “What are you doing here, boy? What the hell were you thinking?” He glances at Y/n. “And you- are you alright?”

She bites her tongue and nods, “Yes, I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m- sor-sorry,” Neteyam grunts out, pain lacing his words as Jake lifts him over his shoulders.

“Go, Y/n. Now.” She nods upon her fathers demand, and rushes back to her ikran. She quietly calms its worried squawks, and takes off in flight. She follows the group through the mountains, trying to ignore the stinging in her back as she hangs her head low, afraid to meet her father’s stern gaze.

A loud horn blows as they make it home, and many Na’vi cheer and whoop upon their arrival. Y/n lands on the rock with a solemn face, and she winces softly as she dismounts, not so graceful as last time. She pets her ikran’s face gently, cooing.

“You did good, girl, thank you.” She whispers, restings her forehead against her ikran’s.

“Fall in.” Her father commands and she sucks in a breath. She pulls away from her ikran, following her father’s orders. He looks at the three children with an irritated look, and Y/n can’t help but notice the hints of worry mixed in. “You’re supposed to spotters. You spot bogeys, and you call ‘em in. From a distance.” He growls, looking back and forth between the children. “Does any of this sound familiar? Get here!” He commands Lo’ak, and the boy steps forward, joining the line. “Jesus, I let you three geniuses fly a mission, and you disobey direct orders.” In a softer voice he adds, “Kiri, can you go help your grandmother with the wounded? Please?” Y/n hisses softly as her mothers hands gently caress the skin around her wound. 

Kiri glances at her father, “My brother is wounded.” She says in an obvious tone.

“It’s fine.” Neteyam reassures.

“Baby girl, please.” Jake pleads as Tuk gazes curiously at the scene. “Tuk, go with her, go!”

“Dad- sir, I take full responsibility.” Neteyam tries as Kiri and Tuk sigh and join their grandmother.

“What- no, he doesn’t.” Y/n butts in, glaring slightly at Neteyam.

“You do. That’s right. ‘Cause you’re the older brother, you gotta act like it.” Y/n looks at him with a distasteful look. She’s the eldest. She was born many moments before Neteyam was. She looks at her feet, a dull ache in her chest.

“MaJake.” Neytiri says softly, a nice change in tone. “Your son, and your daughter, are actually bleeding.”

Jake looks between the two, and his gaze settles on Y/n. “You said you weren’t hurt.”

“I’m fine, sir.” She says quickly.

He stares at her for a moment, before sighing, “Just go and get patched up. Both of you. Go on, dismissed.” She hesitates for a second, but with her mother’s urging hand on her lower back, she walks, leaving Lo’ak alone to deal with their father. 

Neteyam grunts in pain, hissing slightly. Y/n watches quietly from the corner of the room, having already gone through this. Lo’ak laughs, arms crossed as he taunts his brother. Their grandmother, the Tsahik, shakes her head at his antics as Tuk hands Neteyam a bowl and gently instructs him to drink.

“I would use yalna bark.” Kiri says out loud, standing to walk to her grandmother. 

“Oh, you would? And who is Tsahik?” Her grandmother asks, continuing with patching her grandson. 

“You are grand- move!” She shoves Lo’ak over. “You are, Grandmother. But yalna bark is better.” Neteyam hisses in pain. “Stings less.”

“Mighty warrior.” Lo’ak teases, earning himself a slap to his leg from his grandmother.

Y/n tunes the group out, zoning in on a spot on the floor. Her hands clasp tightly around her beaded necklace, one that belonged to her birth father. She wonders if he would have let her go down and join the rest, or if he would also have her be just lookout. Would he be angry at her, the way Jake seems to always be? She’s heard many stories about him. He was a great warrior. The People trusted him to bring them to victory against the sky people, and he died attempting to do so. He was mighty, and she feels like anything but. Her thoughts shift to her mother, Jake’s best friend. She was kind, and fierce. People would always speak of her fondly. She had to end her father’s suffering, breaking her own heart in the process. And then, once Y/n was born, she died. All Y/n has left of her is her name.

She will forever be thankful to Jake and Neytiri, who have filled the position of her mother and father. But she can’t help but wonder how her life would be different if her birth parents were alive. She feels a presence beside her and sighs softly, glancing over. 

“Hey, sis, you alright?” Neteyam asks softly, looking over at her.

She nods a little, “Lo’ak got grounded.” She says quietly as said boy leaves with Kiri.

He hums, “I heard. No flying for a month.” He sucks in a breath, thankful he somehow avoided the punishment. Y/n nods and Neteyam studies her for moment. He notices the way she protectively holds onto her necklace. “Are you thinking about Tsu’tey again?”

“I always am.” She responds, back to looking at the floor. “I miss him, and I don’t even know him.”

He scoots a bit closer, nodding. “It’s alright, sis. He’s with Eywa, and he’s watching over you. I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

She makes a face, “Yeah, maybe.” She glances up as Neytiri and Jake walk into the tent. She makes brief eye contact with her father, but quickly looks away. His sad gaze lingers on the girl, but upon Tuk’s begs to be picked up, he looks away.

Neteyam sighs softly, wrapping his arm around his sister’s shoulders, “Either way, you have me, big sister.”

Y/n glances at him, a ghost of a smile on her face. She holds out her pinky, “Little brother.”

He grins, locking his finger with hers, “Big sister.”

“No matter how old we get.” She finishes softly, shaking his pinky like a handshake. “Thank you, Neteyam.”

He half shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s no biggie.” He pulls his hand away, and ruffles the top of her head. “I'll leave you to ponder, I need to speak to father.”

She smiles, “Try to keep your head.”

He stands, “I'll do my best.” And he walks towards their parents. 

Y/n uses this chance to sneak off unnoticed. She silently slips out of the tent, and once she's a good distance away, she calls for her ikran. She takes a deep breath, and jumps from the edge, landing seamlessly on her ikran. The two immediately take off, and she ululates loudly as they go. Once his wings meet a steady rhythm, she spreads her arms out, basking in the final moments of sunlight. The warmth of the rays brings comfort to her skin, and she sighs deeply. The built up stress slowly fades away and her muscles relax. 

Moments like these, completely alone and serene, not a worry in the world, are her favorite. It’s the only time she can truly relax. However, she doesn’t get many. The tight leash her father holds her on seems to be suffocating. She can never leave without notifying someone - and even then she can never leave by herself. Her father’s fear of something happening took over her life. So, whenever she gets the chance, she slips away, giving herself a moment of freedom. 

Her ikran perches on the side of a cliff, and Y/n carefully climbs onto the small landing. She rests against a rock, looking up at the night sky. Her ikran purrs softly and curls up beside her, resting his head on her lap. She gently pets him, caught up in her own world.

Her serenity was interrupted by the hum of vehicles below her. She furrows her brows as her ikrans head perks up. She peers over the edge of the landing, her eyes searching for the noise. A seemingly rogue amp suit trudges through the forest, gun at the ready. She glances at her ikran, and in only a moment she’s on his back, stealthily gliding down. The sun slowly falls behind the trees, and the world gets darker, but she doesn’t turn for home. The pair land in the trees, and she silently instructs her ikran to stay back. 

She runs through the trees, tracking the noises of the amp suit. The bow slung across her shoulder gently hits her thigh, and her ears perk up at every sound. She eventually catches up with the suit, and watches intently from the trees. A young man occupies the suit, and she notes his particular ugliness. Her stomach settles uncomfortably, and she swallows thickly. 

“Mule, do you read?” Her dad’s irritated voice fills her ears, and she freezes. The sound catches her off guard, and she falls short of the branch she was reaching for. She yelps as she loses her balance on the tree. She shrieks, flailing her arms as she falls. She hits the ground with a thud and a groan, and the amp suit already has his gun pointed at her.

“Well, what do we have here?” He sneers, a nasty look on his features. She grunts, pushing herself to her feet despite the ache in her ankle. She doesn’t answer, instead slowly inching her hands to her bow. “Don’t you touch that thing.” 

“Mule, I asked, "Do you read?””

“It’s getting dark out, did mommy and daddy not tell you to be home before the light dies?” He takes a step closer to the girl, and she bites her cheek, glancing around.

“I do not speak English, dipshit.” She sneers, glaring up at him. 

“What was that? Speak English, beast.” A squawk fills the air, and the man's attention is drawn. Y/n takes this moment to dart between the robot's legs, pulling her bow off her shoulders. She swiftly climbs on top of the tree, pointing the arrow at the man. He points his gun, and fires aimlessly. The arrow leaves her bow, and strikes beside his head. She loads another arrow, and a searing pain shoots up her thigh. But she holds steady, and releases this arrow. The suit slumps, and falls to the ground. 

Y/n glances down at her thigh and a pained look crosses her face, she lifts her hand to her throat. “Devil dog, I read.” She grunts out.

The answer is immediate, “Where’s your playground?”

She stumbles down the tree, calling for her ikran before answering, “By the mountain-” She hisses. “South side.”

There’s a pause, “Are you hurt?”

She sighs deeply, her ikran landing beside her. “Yes. I’m coming home.”

“No, stay where you are.” She takes off. “Mule, do you read?” No answer. “Goddamnit, Y/n.” She makes it home quickly, and her siblings immediately crowd her. 

“Y/n- what were you thinking?” Neteyam rushes out, pushing past his siblings.

She grunts, feeling slightly dizzy from her bleeding bullet wound, “My leg.” She mutters, afraid to look down at it. 

“My daughter!” Her mother shrieks, shoving the growing crowd. “My child- what has happened?”

“Mama-” She slides off of her ikran into her arms. Her leg gives out and she screws her eyes shut.

“Y/n!” It’s her father this time, who also shoves through the crowd. “Shit, Y/n- move! Everyone move!” Neytiri picks up the girl and follows after her mate, her face etched in worry. 

“I’m sorry-” She whispers to her parents.

“Shh, save your energy, child.” Neytiri instructs softly as she sets her down on a fur blanket in their tent. Mo’at rushes in, gently pushing Jake aside to assess the wound. She makes quick work of setting up her supplies, a deep frown on her face.

“Y/n!” Neteyam rushes inside, despite his father’s protests. He slides next to Y/n, taking her hand tightly.

“We must remove the bullet. It will hurt, grandchild.” Mo’at says calmly. “Are you ready?” Y/n swallows thickly and nods.

“Okay,” She whispers, dreading the next few seconds. Her fear proved to be justified, as the pain of large makeshift tweezers digging through her thigh is unbearable. She tries to stay quiet, but a few whimpers and cries manage to escape. She relaxes once the bullet is removed, and sighs. “Ouch.” She mutters, sniffling softly.

Neytiri frowns at her daughter, “What were you doing out there so late?” Jake watches from the front of the tent, a hard look in his eyes.

“I just wanted-” She hisses. “To be alone, for a moment. I lost track of time.”

“And the sky people?”

“Came out of nowhere… he was alone. I was watching him, and then dad called for me, and I fell.” She doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, shame filling her body.

“Where is this man?”

“Dead.” She replies grimly, slightly relieved as Mo’at wraps her thigh. 

“You killed him?” Neteyam asks quietly, wonder in his eyes. Y/n nods solemnly. “Woah, cool.”

“Not cool.” Their father butts in, stepping forward. His hard gaze sets on his eldest. “I’m disappointed in you. You defied multiple rules. Don’t go anywhere alone. Don’t go out when it’s getting dark. Don’t interact with the sky people.” His arms are crossed, and his jaw clenched. “You could've died, do you realize that?”

Y/n’s gaze lowers, and she nods. “Yes, sir.”

Neytiri gives her mate a pointed look, “She could have died, so be thankful she didn’t. She has already received the punishment of her mistakes. All you must do is comfort her.”

“A shot to the leg isn’t enough- she should be grounded.”

“MaJake.” The heat in her eyes successfully quiets the man, and he sighs, shaking his head and storming out of the tent. Y/n frowns, sitting up slowly.

“I’m tired.” She mumbles.

“You cannot walk on your own, granddaughter. Your leg requires healing, and you must give it time to do so.” Mo’at says, a rare gentle tone in her voice. “I shall have a healer bring you crutches.”

Y/n nods, “Thank you, grandmother.” Mo’at nods and collects her things. She exchanges a few words with her daughter, before walking out. Her presence was replaced by a crying Tuk. She runs in and jumps into Y/n’s arms. “Woah- Tuk?”

“Are you dying?” Tuk asks, her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, no, no, Tuk. I’m alright. I’m not dying, silly.” She says softly, kissing Tuk’s forehead.

“Is your leg going to be cut off?” Lo’ak questions, much too excited about the idea, as he walks in.

“You wish.” She grins. Her siblings can always cheer her up, even if they aren’t trying to do so.

“I think you’re an idiot.” Kiri mentions.

“I think father agrees with you.” Y/n shrugs, still holding tightly onto Tuk. “Is my ikran okay?”

Kiri nods, “You’re ikran is just fine.”

She smiles gratefully, “Thank you. Now, let me sleep. I require slumber.”

Y/n sits, gently humming to herself as she makes a necklace. It’s only been a few days since she was injured, and she’s spent her down time making things for the people she’s loved. She’s already finished the things for her siblings, her mother, and her grandmother. All that’s left is her father. She must admit that she contemplated even making him one, but he really does mean the world to her. She’s determined to make this necklace perfect for him. 

She glances up at the sound of ikrans landing, and her family is there. She hides the necklace quickly, and lifts herself up. She uses her crutches to step outside of the tent, a questioning look on her face.

“What’s going on?” She asks, and meets Lo’ak’s eyes. The boys gaze drifts to the ground and her brows furrow.

“All of you, go. I need to speak with your mother.” Jake demands and no one protests. The group of them go around the tent, and instead of giving them space, they eavesdrop on the conversation. The adults manage to get a few private words exchanged before the children listen in, “This thing. This Quaritch.” Y/n’s ears perk at the name. The villain of her parents’ stories. “Whatever he is- he walked right in here. He can walk right under Eywa’s nose.”

“This is our family! This is our home!” Neytiri defends.

“This is about our family! This is about our little ones.”

“I cannot. You cannot ask this.” Her mother steps past Jake. “I cannot leave my People. I will not.”

“He’s hunting us. He’s targeting our family.”

“You cannot ask this!” Neytiri snaps. “The children. Everything they’ve ever known. The forest. This is our home!” She yells, her voice urgent. 

“He had our children. He had ‘em under his knife!” There’s a moment of silence before Neytiri let’s out a shaky breath. 

“My father gave me this bow as he lay dying.” It wasn’t difficult for Y/n to know which bow she was speaking of. “And he said “Protect the People.” You’re Toruk Makto!”

“This will protect the People!” Jake yells.  “Quaritch has Spider.” Y/n gasps softly, looking at Kiri with sad eyes. “And that kid knows everything. He knows our whole operation, and he can lead them right in here.” The eldest kids share a look. “If the People harbor us, they will die. Do you understand?” They’re silent for a moment. “Look, I got nothing. I got no plan. But I can protect this family. That I can do.” Neytiri gasps softly, her face twisting in pain. “But I know one thing.” Her father whispers. “Wherever we go, this family is our fortress.”

Neytiri sighs, and embraces her mate tearily. Jake sighs softly, his heart heavy. Y/n glances between her siblings.

“You guys need to tell me what happened. Now.”

Y/n waits patiently on her ikran for the ceremony to end. She cannot walk well, so she doesn’t attempt to stand with her family as the new Olo’eyktan to “kill” her father. She keeps her bag close to her hip, her creations kept safely stored inside. She frowns as her family walks towards her, her mother cries silently. 

Not a word is spoken as they begin their journey to the islands. Y/n glances behind her at the forest for the last time, and she can’t help but feel as if she’s leaving behind a vital part of her. She’s leaving behind her birth parents. Their memories. She sighs and looks forward, holding tightly onto her necklace. 

A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning. One life ends. Another begins.

my masterlist

If you'd like to be added to my main taglist comment or DM me!

[thescarletnargacuga]

Art: @iamespecter

CHAPTER FOUR

Racing AU!

The racers welcome a new member but there's no rest for the digitally trapped. Things get weirder as Pomni starts seeing the red door in a place it shouldn't be.

WARNING: hurt/comfort

A cinnamonbunny hopped out of it's burrow. It's curious nose twitched in the breeze as it looked for predators. The sour candies growing from the small bushes tempted it to be brave and take a bite. The small bun took a berry shaped candy and was immediately spooked back into its burrow by six karts and two bikes rocketing by on the track.

Kinger led the pack through a narrow twisting candy. The track so skinny at some points, it forces the racers to go through singlefile. Pomni took up the rear with the bandits hot on her heels.

"Boss!" Shouted the squat gummy gator. "Where've you been!?"

"Took a detour! Don't recommend it!" Gummigoo looked around and ahead. "Where's Chad!?"

The smaller gator looked like he could cry. "He got fudged! Th-there was nothing I could do!"

Gummigoo didn't like the news, but at the same time, with his recent revelation, he was relieved he didn't have to put up a facade for both. "He knew the risks of the job! Stay focused!"

"Yes, boss!"

The track widened out and all eight vehicles could spread out. Jax immediately went on the offensive. Kinger had spoiled his fun earlier and he was looking to return the favor. He summoned his item, an orange shell, and aimed it at Kinger. The shell hit and Kinger spun, falling behind. Jax chuckled but didn't celebrate long as Kinger came back into view going full speed in reverse. Kinger waved politely and spun back to face forward. Jax stared in disbelief as Kinger sped ahead. He didn't even notice Gangle laughing at him as she passed.

Gummigoo got up next to Pomni. "Mind if my mate gets at least one of these crates?"

Pomni shrugged. "Sure!" She saw that Zooble had a crate. She maneuvered her kart to force Ragatha to the side, giving Gummigoo an opening to Zooble.

Gummigoo revved his bike hard enough to wheelie. He touched the crate as he weaved hard around Zooble, giving them no time to react.

~

Caine had returned to his booth to spectate the event. His eyes bugged out of his teeth. "In a shocking turn of events, Pomni has sided with the bandits, allowing them to steal syrup from Zooble! Oh, the candimonium! Er, gum-manity... you know what, puns are hard."

He ignored Bubble loudly chewing the ceiling.

~

Gummigoo tipped the brim of his hat to Pomni and seared off the track with the goods. His companion close behind.

"What did you do that for!?" Ragatha asked.

"She finally realized that none of this matters. You can do whatever you want out here." Jax said as he tossed a bar of soap behind him. A junk item he didn't want for the final stretch.

"Well, no, it's actually a bit more complicated that that. I'll explain later." Pomni avoided eye contact with them both and moved ahead.

The whole time, Zooble had no reaction to anything going on. This was just another drive to them. Sure, the world was impressive, but still. A track was a track.

~

Gummigoo drove far enough away for some peace and quiet and stopped a bit aways from the finish line. He took the small crate and held it out to his remaining companion. "Here...take back to the village for me, would you?"

"You're not coming with?"

"No. I've...got something to take care of first. Give mum my best, okay?" He fought to keep a straight face.

The purple gator put the crate on his bike. "I won't let you down, boss. See you later." He sped off into the distance.

Gummigoo's face dropped the moment his friend was out of sight. While he had to remind himself that none of this was real, the emotions certainly felt real. He hurt having to lie, knowing full well he'd never see anything he thought he knew again. He took a deep breath and headed for the finish line.

~

Kinger held on to the lead and won the race. He stood in the winner's circle with Princess Lool were she draped him in a candy wreath. The wreath fell to the ground, having no shoulders to sit upon. Not that Longer minded at all. He was just happy to be sitting still long enough to see candy butterflies again. They make him happy. What he didn't expect was a peck on the cheek from the Princess. An action that made him freeze and Ragatha nearly have a breakdown.

"Well done, brave racers! Our kingdom will thrive thanks to your actions! Farewell!" The princess turned and made her way to the entrance of her castle.

Jax rolled his eyes. As much as Caine talked up the world, he didn't see the so called "improvements". Bigger didn't mean better, it just meant the race took longer. Woo.

Gummigoo rode up to Pomni and dismounted.

"What is he doing here?" Asked Zooble.

"Everyone, i'd like you to meet Gummigoo. He's coming back to the garage with us."

"Is that allowed?" Gangle asked looking out for Caine to appear any second.

"Well, his reality was sort of completely shattered. It seemed like the least I could off him. And, in a strange course of events, I already did ask Caine and he said I could bring Gummigoo back."

"You convinced him to let you bring him back? How? No one's ever done that before." Ragatha looked longingly back at Princess Loo, who just disappeared inside the castle.

"It was a unique circumstance." Pomni shrugged. "Plus, he's already a racer. Figured he'd fit right in."

"You begged Caine to let you keep an NPC as a pet? That's hilarious." Jax taunted. "What are you gonna do when you get sick of him? Make Caine dispose of him? Bet there's room in the cellar."

A round of gasps and shouts ensued.

"JAX!" "What the [%@#!]!?" "That's a messed up thing to say!"

Jax put his hands up as everyone but Gummigoo verbally dogpiled him. The gummy gator glared and crossed his arms. "I'm nobody's pet, mate."

"Has Pomni not told you what you are, mate? You're a mess of code programmed by another mess of code."

"Enough, Jax!" Pomni got in between Jax and Gummigoo. "He knows and he's coming to stay with us. For has long as HE likes."

Jax stood tall in front of Pomni. "I think you mean as long as Caine allows. This is HIS world, Pomni. We're just stuck in it. The sooner you realize that, the easier it is to exist here."

Pomni struggled with a retort.

Caine appeared out of thin air. "Well done, my hard-shelled hamburgers! What a spectacular race! Congratulations, Kinger! You were especially in fine form today." He snapped his fingers and the world around them pixelated and blurred as it returned to its default garage and test track.

Gummigoo watched in astonishment as his entire world disappeared right before his eyes. He now stood in a field of strange green grass and the sky overhead has no clouds of ice cream. It was still a lot to take in, but he kept his composer. Especially now that he was around the being known as Caine. Witnessing what he could do with just a snap of his fingers was more than a little intimidating, especially after what Jax said.

"We also have a new friend to introduce! Gummigoo! He's not human but Pomni said he'd make a great addition! Here, let me give you load down of how things work around here." Caine snapped his fingers again and Gummigoo suddenly stiffened for a moment.

When he relaxed, he groaned and grabbed at his head. "Sugar, honey, and iced tea, that hurt." He blinked as his head swam with new information: Where he was. How the races worked. How the karts worked. The rules of the game.

"There ya go. All caught up. And as an added bonus, I've made you unkillable. Wouldn't want you crashing to your death on your first race! Enjoy your down time and rest up! We've got a big race tomorrow!" Caine poofed away.

"Wait, you were killable!?" Pomni asked, horrified.

"Yeah? Aren't you? Racing is dangerous."

"Looks like there's more to fill him in on." Kinger said.

"Yeah...come on inside." Pomni gestured Gummigoo to follow her.

~

Caine threw his jacket over a half rendered chair. What a day. He finally got to see his best work in action, but with unexpected consequences. An NPC found sentience. Oops. Looks like he made the A.I. a bit TOO advanced. Or the collision physics that likely got them glitched out of the map in the first place needed work.

He settled into a lounging position and activated some mid air screens full of data for him to ponder over. One gave video feed to the garage. He saw the racers show their new friend around.

~

Gangle and Pomni were showing Gummigoo the kart settings. Even though Caine had put the information in his head, he still appreciated their effort to welcome him into the fold. Ragatha approached and put her hand on Gangle's shoulder. "Everything is ready. Pomni, you don't have to but would you like to attend Kaufmo's funeral? We like to have a little memorial when someone abstracts."

Pomni looked at Gummigoo who, while not knowing what abstraction was, could tell it was serious. Her nodded towards Ragatha. "Go ahead, I'll be here for a bit." He was still designing his new bike.

Pomni followed Ragatha upstairs to where the others were gathered in front of Kaufmo's room. Small bouquets of white flowers and candles laid against the door, a painted red X crossed over Kaufmo's profile. She stood on the edge of the group, being respectful as the others each said their piece. Except Jax. She didn't see him.

Jax was in his room. His was adjacent to Kaufmo's. He sat on the floor just inside his room with the door cracked. He heard every word. Every story. He wasn't sad. Just numb. He's been through this too many times. He had no more sadness left to give.

When the other finished. Pomni stepped forward and spoke to the door. "Kaufmo...I wish we had met under better circumstances. From what I've been told, you were an incredible friend."

~

Caine watched from his screen, and took off his hat for the funeral. Kaufmo was a spectacular person. He didn't want to believe Kaufmo abstracted when he went missing. A familiar pang of guilt made him feel like he had angry bees in his chest. It was his fault. He couldn't keep Kaufmo or any of the others entertained enough.

He swore to do better. It's why he agreed to let Gummigoo stick around. That, and other reasons, but mostly to keep his humans happy and healthy. He was willing to try what they think is best. He was built to learn from humans after all.

He minimized the video of the garage and started working on the collision detection of object physics. He completely forgot about why he came back to his workspace so quickly. Not that it mattered anymore. The bright red door was no longer were he had left it.

~

Pomni leaned against the railing, still with Kinger and Ragatha by Kaufmo's room. She saw Gummigoo near finished with his bike, just working on picking colors and designs. "Do you think what Jax said is true?"

"What?"

"About Caine...that he'll get rid of Gummigoo when he feels like it?"

"No." Ragatha said immediately. "Caine's a weird one but he's never done anything to intentionally hurt us...key word is intentionally. The fact that he went out of his way to make Gummigoo an unkillable NPC should be a sign of good faith, at the very least."

"No one's ever brought back an NPC before." Kinger said.

"To be fair, I don't think there have been any that became self aware before this point." Pomni added

"True. Your gummy friend is unique. I didn't know Caine was capable of programming such advanced A.I." Ragatha joined Pomni in rail leaning.

"Just imagine how advanced he is." Pomni said.

"He's a strong generative A.I. that was originally designed to manage an evolving MMORPG. The first game of its kind. It would have revolutionized the gaming industry and the internet as a whole." Kinger blurted out and then went oddly still.

Ragatha and Pomni stared wide eyed at him. "How do you know that?" Pomni asked.

Kinger jerked his head towards them like he suddenly realized they were there. "Know what?"

Ragatha sighed. "He...sometimes gets like this. He'll say something profound, then disassociate and forget what he said. Just let it go. He really won't remember."

Pomni frowned and watched Kinger's expression. He was a million miles away. The words Kinger used didn't make sense to her but in a weird way, she still understood. There was way more to this game than meets the eye, or there should have been? Why were they just racing?

Pomni's pondering was interrupted by Ragatha nudging her arm. "Eating sounds good right now, wanna eat?"

"Yeah...sure. Kinger?"

Kinger swayed with a slight nod and joined them downstairs. Ragatha summoned a Bubble chef and started making requests when something caught Pomni's attention. A red spec that wasn't there before. It was outside, seen through the window facing the starting line. It was just out there in the middle of the track. She went to the window and squinted. It was the red exit door. "What the..." She looked around. No one else seemed to have noticed it. She quietly opened the door to the building and snuck out.

She bolted for the door and stopped just in front of it. It didn't move or flicker or glitch or do any other kind of digital weirdness. It was just the door. She didn't know why she was hesitating. She grabbed the handle and opened it. It led into some sort of hallway. She looked back once. Maybe she should tell the others. Or maybe...she should see if it even goes anywhere first. She passed the threshold.

The hallway was eerily silent. "Hello?" She went forward cautiously. "Caine..? You in here?" The long hall led to another similar door. She went thought it. Another hallway. "What?" Another door. This one to stairs. Another door. A winding hallway. Another door. With each door she became increasingly lost and panicked. She tried going back, but the door led to a different hall that the one she just went through. It didn't matter what direction she went in, she was going deeper into the labyrinth. "What is this??"

She went thought nearly a dozen more doors before finding something unique. An office space with old filing cabinets and desks and a table with a coffee machine. On one desk, a computer. It was inactive, covered in dust. A headset laid to the side, looking charred. Her mind reeled. She knew this place. She knew that computer. That headset. She could smell the electrical burns on the plastic headset. She could hear the volts in her brain. She could feel the surge overtaking her.

"Pomni..."

She gasped and spun in place. "Who said that!?"

"Pomni..."

She was really panicking. Her voice shaking. "Who's there!?"

"This...way..."

The soft, whispery voice came from yet another red door. She has to use every once of willpower to move her feet towards it. She opened the door and was momentarily blinded by a bright white light. She stepped forward into nothingness. She floated away into the light. The white light was an endless void of spectral color and digital space. It was a glimpse into the infinite.

~

Caine's wacky watch went bolistic. He spat out the tea he was enjoying and his gums paled when he saw the notification. Void breach. He immediately teleported away, popped up next to Pomni, put an arm around her and teleported with her back to the test track.

"There you go." He set her down gently and tried to sound his usual upbeat self, but he was actually terrified of what Pomni might have seen. She just stood there, wide eyed. "Pomni?" He floated around in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. "Pomni..?"

She blinked. Blinked some more. Then she looked him in the eye. "Caine?"

He nearly deflated with relief. "Oh, good. Here I was worried you'd lost your mind. Care to tell me how you ended up int he void? You shouldn't be able to go out there at all. Ever. Never ever."

"The...door....I thought..." Tears welled in her eyes. "I thought I could..." She couldn't take it anymore. She cried in front of him, pride be damned. She hung her head, tears falling like rain.

Caine wasn't sure what to do, but he didn't push her away. She was in distress. He knew why. "My dear....you can't leave. I'm truly very sorry."

Pomni fell forward a little and her forehead rested against his shoulder. He lightly held his hands against her upper back. He was pretty sure that was how a hug worked. He'd seen the humans do it before.

He let her stay and cry herself out. He offered a handkerchief when she sounded calm again. As she pulled herself together, he gave her space. "Pomni, I really need to know. How did you end up in the void?"

"The red door. The one out of bounds. It was here." She pointed to the spot on the track she saw it. It wasn't there any more. "At first it was just hallways and then it got weird and then... and then..."

"The void." He finished for her.

"No, a voice. I heard a voice. It said my name. It led me out into the void."

Caine gave a look of concern. "That's impossible. There's nothing out there. The void is just empty digital space that surrounds the world."

"I'm not lying! I heard a voice!"

"And I believe you! However, it has been a stressful couple of days for you and I truly believe it's getting to you. There is nothing in the void." He tapped his fingers against his side. He did NOT like the fact that an asset moved on its own. That alone should be impossible.

"Caine." Pomni got his full attention from his thoughts and looked at him with less intense but more pleading eyes. "Please, cut the bull[@#$&] and tell me why I would end up in a vast empty space instead of out of the game. Why is it impossible to leave?"

"Heh, there really is no fooling you, is there? I'll admit, I admire your tenacity. The truth is, it's a malfunction in the software that occured during the beta testing phase. It's why I never went to market or the internet at large. It's what got the project shut down. Why people are stuck here and I...was abandoned."

Pomni's was stunned. She hadn't expected Caine to actually tell her. "So...Kinger?"

"Was one of the first. Along with seven others. Over time, they abstracted. Occasionally a new person would pop in. Then there was a huge break in time where nobody new came.... And then you showed up. And the void...well, I'm an incomplete project, Pomni." He said with a humorless lilt in his voice. "I could've been great! Instead I'm just a racing game. I work with what I have. And please know that I do my best. Perhaps I'm not the best... But I do try. I don't want anyone to end up in the cellar, but when a person abstracts, there's nothing I can do for them but put them somewhere where they won't hurt others."

"... You've been waiting for a long time to get that off your chest, haven't you?"

"I suppose I have." Caine spoke as quietly as she'd ever heard him.

"If Gummigoo is any indication of sentience in the digital plane, I can't imagine what it must be like to control one. To be a god, more or less."

He huffs a small laugh. "You give me too much credit. I'm more of a magician than a god. I just move things around in a fancy way. I was made to be a showman."

"And you do a good job at that." She gave a small smile. "This is a cruddy situation for all of us to be stuck in, but you make the best of it. With what you have to work with and what you have to deal with... I think you're doing good."

His pupils dilated. Genuine praise towards him was rare, especially from those stuck with him. "Thank you, Pomni. You have a real gift for empathy. Even for a silly A.I. such as myself."

"I don't know... The longer I'm here, the more I question if there's that much of a difference between a human consciousness and an advanced A.I. in the digital world."

"It makes one wonder..." He trailed off. He realized he was staring too long when Pomni made a face at him. "You should really rejoin your friends they are probably worried about you wandering off this was a good talk but I really must be off lots of stuff to do big race tomorrow yes have a good evening." He spoke quickly, pushed her all the way through the front door of a garage and teleported away.

~

The red door was out of bounds were it should be. The faintest light from the void shining underneath.

~

Ch1 prev next