#HE WAS YOUR DREAM AND YOU SQUANDERED HIM | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bunny584 · 16 days

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OBSESSED: SHOKO feat THE BOYS (FINALE)

A/N: Well, well, well. Oh how the tables have turned, dear reader. It’s not so easy — juggling two special grades and their personal physician…is it?

S/N: This is it. The pièce de résistance. I was…this is…NO ONE LOOK AT ME AFTER YOU READ THIS. No idea the word count. Long af, though.

C/W:….the trio is their own content warning lol. Mature. 18+, MDNI.

Part I, Part II.

Is this…a dream?

This must be what it feels like to hear Domain Expansion, Infinite Void.

White static coats Shoko’s brain. She’s breathing underwater. Thinking in molasses.

It’s a miracle her legs are working — they’re currently trailing behind you and the boys, back to her apartment.

Her eyes are working, too — they’re attached to the dress rippling and bouncing off your ass. Your hips are a hypnotic pendulum. Swinging back and forth.

Back and forth.

The tailwind from your strut is a bad actor.

Every so often teasing your cotton panties that won the lottery. Kissing up against your pretty petals. Riding along the plump curve of your mounds. Accentuating the intoxicating swell of your hips.

It’s paralyzing.

You are paralyzing.

Satoru’s hand is curled around the back of your neck. His azure glow is so pristine, so bright it refracts off your gorgeous cheekbones. Dampening his Limitless and intensifying his Six Eyes.

Because the first to taste a meal is usually one’s eyes…right?

Shoko can nearly hear the depravity ringing between Satoru’s ears.

Then there’s Suguru.

An arm is draped around your waist, capturing and releasing the hem of your dress every few seconds. Mindless movements. His sniper-like gaze focused on the apartment door at the end of the hall.

Cool. Calm. Collected.

One would think, if you don’t know Suguru well enough.

His normally, perfectly repressed cursed energy surrounds him. Flickering into the air like campfire embers just waiting for the next gust of wind to erupt. Amethyst and graphite swarm around her best friend — the only indicator of his disintegrating self-control.

20 steps left until she is expected to produce door keys. The only thing standing between everyone and you.

This is it.

This is the moment. The one chance you get at ‘doing it right this time.’

15 steps.

There are no more wishes granted. No more genies stuffed into bottles, or whatever. This is it.

10 steps.

Get your shit together, Ieiri.

Do not squander this on the sidelines.

Shoko wires around the three of you. Stepping ahead to slot the frivolous piece of aluminum standing between her and her wet dream.

The apartment door flies open. Satoru’s hand moves on autopilot — deepening his grip around your neck.

His conscious brain recedes. Triple distilled, unadulterated need moves in like a tropical storm.

Silky strands of your hair plaited in his fingers.

Wide, warm eyes locked into his.

Tiny slit in those pouty, siren lips of yours.

He will dismantle you. Piece by fucking piece.

Until you’re a babbling, sobbing brook beneath his fingers. Apologizing for being such a cocktease.

“Satoru…?”

There’s a change in your voice.

Fear? Nerves?

Prey finally realizing who is next on the menu?

Satoru is staring. Fully aware of how disarming his eyes can be. Born with godlike vision and somehow the only thing he can see in the room is you.

His greed is a threat to National Security. DEFCON Level 1.

His mouth ghosts yours. Barely registering Suguru encasing you from behind. Trailing his palms along your thighs.

“Safe word, princess.” Satoru maps every ridge, every teeth indent on that gorgeous bottom lip.

“For when you need to tap out.” Suguru augments Satoru’s command. Gentle nip at the tip of your ear and you moan. Bitten back and clipped.

“Such pretty sounds,” Shoko’s voice is distant. Breathy. Coated in Cabernet.

“I..don’t—”

Satoru slices your protest in half. Rolling your bottom lip under his teeth. Biting and licking his way across your pout. At the same time Suguru drops his mouth to your pulse point.

“Don’t what, sweetheart?” Suguru murmurs into your neck. A filthy fucking whine escapes your lips and Satoru’s fingers go to your nipple.

Hard. Pert and neglected. Desperate for attention.

Just like you.

The way you’re panting into Satoru’s mouth. Listless and loose, bending into Suguru’s presence behind you.

“He gave you an order, baby.” Suguru’s smile is so tender. Almost torturous against your oversensitive skin.

“Don’t…ah..don’t need a safe word.”

A weak declaration against Satoru’s kiss. Earning yourself a sharp twist of your sensitive buds. And gifting him a kitten squeal that makes his cock twitch.

“Ohhhh Suguru, Shoko. We have a brat on our hands.” He muses, hovering his lips over yours. Satoru pets the steel rod between his legs. Already dewy with his arousal.

You are so beautiful, trying to resist their coordinated touch. The sound of Suguru’s large hand palming your ass reverberates throughout the room.

“I’ll teach her some manners.”

Suguru’s voice trails down your spine. Slow and sickly sweet. Like maple sap dripping down tree bark mid spring. He caresses the hot sting from his spanking.

“I—I have manners.” Voice as small as your frame engulfed between the 6’3 counterparts.

“I won’t ask again, princess.” Satoru tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. And Suguru continues sucking kisses into your neck, marking his territory.

“Uh..mmm..god, S—“ Your eyes flutter closed. An earnest attempt to stay present. And not settle into the fuzzy, warm submission they are baiting you into.

“Safe word, now.”

“B—um. Blue? Blue.” Your resolve is about as rigid as cotton.

“Blue?”

“Well that’s not fair.”

Shoko and Suguru’s incredulous reactions intertwine with Satoru’s smug chuckle. A dusty rose high on your cheeks.

You know why you chose Blue. Everyone else does, too.

“Blue, huh?” Satoru presses a soft kiss on your lips.

“To match me? Noted, baby.”

Shoko melts into her couch. Her heartbeat rattles around her skull. With short, ineffective breaths that taste like full bodied red wine. Wet heat surges around her lace thong.

The way you’re writhing between her best friends’ hands is sinful.

Gazing up at Satoru like he is Vincent Van Gogh and the Starry Night above you is the product of his paintbrush.

Incoherent as if Suguru’s fingers put the Sun to bed. Whimpering his name like a prayer.

Adorable, girl.

God isn’t going to save you here.

The pads of Shoko’s cool fingers nearly sizzle against her puffy pleasure point. Slick coating her with just one, two, three long stripes against her sticky folds.

“God...fuck..bring her to me.” The grit in Shoko’s tone scrapes along her voice box. Matching the aggressive pace of her fingers against her needy cunt.

The boys lock gazes with their third. Cavalier smile tugging against Satoru’s lips. Suguru’s brow touches his hairline.

Ladies, first.

“You heard her.” Satoru snakes your arms around his neck and hoists you around his waist in one fluid motion.

“S—sato—“ He bullies his tongue back into your mouth. No more protesting, gorgeous.

Slow steps towards Shoko, so he can drink from your well. A sweet, delectable spell dripping from your lips. And if Satoru doesn’t wake up tomorrow morning after eating your forbidden fruit, then so be it.

Suguru lets himself watch you from a short distance.

His hand can’t stop rubbing his cock. Shamelessly tugging his heavy rod. Burning your little expressions into his mind’s safe. The way your eyebrows come together at the center whenever Satoru bites your bottom lip. Your desperate grabs for air against his relentless kiss.

“Hi, pretty.” Shoko drawls the moment Satoru settles you down on her lap. Her thigh digs into your soaked, gummy core. Glazing her skin with your drool.

“Hi, Sho.” Still panting from Satoru’s embrace. So fragile. A harsh breeze could shatter you to stardust. And Shoko pulsates around nothing.

One hand is firm on your hip. The other tracing mindless shapes on your chest. Leaving a poetic cascade of goosebumps in her wake.

Reflexively, you go to caress Shoko’s shoulders only to be caught by Satoru’s enormous grip. Whipping both of your wrists behind your back. While his other hand toys with the erection straining against his pants.

“She didn’t give you permission to touch, did she princess?” He drops his tone into the shell of your ear.

“Oh, I—“

“Manners, gorgeous.” A gentle reminder in between smearing kisses along your neck. Shoko hooks her index finger along your neckline. One tug and your mouth-watering tits come into full view.

“Fucking, hell.”

“God, baby.”

“Perfect…fucking perfect.”

Satoru, Suguru and Shoko’s praises crash into one another. God took his time with you. Sculpting a fucking masterpiece.

To be praised.

To be worshipped.

To be taken.

Used.

Filled.

“Shoko. I want to hear her.”

Suguru’s command is guttural. Fist snug around the base of his cock. Shameless about the tears of precum falling down his shaft.

Shoko’s fingers work their way down to your pulsing clit. You preen into her touch. Pretty, tiny gasps against her cheek.

“Let it out, baby.” Shoko coos into your ear. Thumbing little circles around your clit.

You bury your face into her neck. Delicious ache swelling between your legs. Grinding along her slender thigh. Honey seeping around your clothed cunt.

“S—sho, mmnngh..fuck..” Desperation fans Shoko’s neck. Bucking your hips with your hands restrained.

“There she is.”

Suguru’s fist slams to his hilt. Now close enough to cup your perky mound. Rippling and bouncing with every jolt. Feathering his finger over your pebbled bud.

The sudden touch and velvet voice above you drags your gaze upward.

And Suguru nearly cums in his hand right then and there.

Misty eyes, drool covered lips. Breathy pants. Angelic features rewritten by lust.

“Suguru?”

“Such a good girl. Keep fucking her thigh like that, baby.”

Throaty praise in return. Suguru rips his hand away from his angry length. Staving off his finish.

Not yet.

They’re not remotely close to being done with you yet.

“She’s so responsive.” Satoru chimes in. Releasing his grip on your wrists.

Your hands fly to Shoko’s face. Melding your mouth with hers. Leaking precious sounds, from your lips and your sopping wet core. His hand kneads your neglected breast, pinching your nipple every so often.

Satoru and Suguru palming at your tits. Shoko fucking your mouth with her tongue. You humping Shoko’s leg like a dog in heat.

It’s too much.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashes into your groin. You nestle into the crook of her neck. Grasping at her thick, brunette locks.

“S-sho, I’m close, I’m—mmgh..”

“It’s okay pretty,” Shoko husks. Her thumb at a perfect rhythm and pressure.

“You can cum, baby.” Suguru rasps, tugging at your nipple at the same time Satoru smacks the supple flesh he was petting.

“Oh fuck oh fuck—“

The delicious sting from their touches sends you over the edge. And the wire seated deep in your stomach snaps. Hips stuttering to an abrupt stop.

The room stills. Satoru, Suguru and Shoko studying your micro movements through your peak. So quiet that the walls have to lean in to hear you and your lovers breathing.

Six eyes laser into your body. Everyone’s appetite for you simultaneously tripling.

Satoru swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Subconsciously aware of the pool of saliva forming. His manhood mirroring the trail of drool running down his mouth.

He’s always been a fan of dessert.

“I need to taste you.”

“And I need a front row seat.” Shoko nibbles at your cheek.

Satoru lifts and spins you around on Shoko’s lap in a matter of seconds. You, still gummy and compliant from your orgasm spread your legs weakly over Shoko. Earning you a chorus of praise from your lust-drunk lovers.

He drops to his knees. His blushing, weeping tip in hand. Pushing your sodden panties to the side. While Shoko cradles your thigh in her hand, holding you open for her best friend.

Your rose blooms in front of him. Dewy with your slick. Candied scent holding all of Satoru’s senses hostage.

“Look at how pretty, she is.” He breezes against your swollen pearl. Your petals quiver, and his dick leaks.

“S—Satoru..please.”

Satoru’s head is spinning. Entirely drunk off of the sight of you like this. Choking back his own pathetic groans.

His tongue licks a long stripe up your ripe folds. And your taste pollenates his mind for an eternity. An addict with his chosen vice.

Your hands magnet to his snowy halo. The melody you sing from his kisses and licks could sink any ship. Echoing in Satoru’s and Shoko’s groin.

Shoko is in a complete haze. Molesting herself numb at the way you undulate against Satoru’s eager tongue. Pitiful little mewls that are worthy of a platinum record.

“Feeling good, gorgeous?” Shoko eggs you on. Quickly sinking into her own threatened orgasm.

“Y—yes..mmgh so..god..” Paper thin squeals from your lips.

Crystals line your eyes in response to Satoru’s tongue fucking in and out of your pussy. Suckling your clit. Figures of 8, and 8 and 8 again until your mind is mush.

Except Suguru refuses to let you get lost at Satoru’s sea. He grips a handful of your hair, whipping your head in his direction.

Both you and Shoko tilt up to see Suguru’s driveling manhood at your eye level. Veiny, heavy. So clearly abused by his hand. Volcanic eruption in his hooded gaze.

“Hands on my cock, baby.”

Barely above a whisper, but somehow your body recognizes his authority.

And you seem genuinely shocked by your visceral obedience. Immediate acquiescence to Surguru’s will.

An approving grin teases Suguru’s lips. Your hands are comically small wrapped around his length.

God, he could split you in half.

Heavy eyelids from Satoru’s agonizing touch, you’re mystical. Gazing into Suguru’s eyes like his soul is nothing but an appetizer. Yours to swallow, digest, play with.

“Ask nicely.” Suguru grunts, as your eyes rake over his leaky cockhead. Longing for a taste.

Satoru and Shoko come to a hush. Her fingers slow. Satoru forces himself off of your folds. Somehow knowing the next words to roll off your tongue will shift their brain chemistry, permanently.

Palatial lashes fan your utterly fucked-out gaze. Swollen lips millimeters away from Suguru’s blunt tip.

“May I suck your cock, please?”

Filthy-nasty-dirty-fucking-vulgar noises fill the room, while you swirl Suguru’s cum covered head around your tongue.

“Fuck. Your lips baby.” He hisses, his hips piston into your pretty, accepting mouth.

“So messy, princess.” Satoru murmurs into your swollen cunt, slipping his fingers past your tight ringlet.

Beautiful gurgles around Suguru’s shaft. Crystalline streams of spit glazing your puffy tits.

You buck into Satoru at a similar, haphazard pace that he strokes his thick rod. Shoko sinks her teeth into your shoulder.

“G-gonna c..gonna—“ high pitched, broken warnings spill from your lips. Just as a blinding wave of electricity surges down Shoko’s legs — curling her pedicure inward.

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.”

Suguru’s decadent baritone sends both you and Shoko over the hot edge. A cacophony of huffs and whines, coating the walls in your shared ecstasy. Spraying your essence all over Satoru’s face.

He’s slow to stand. Savoring remnants of your peak. He and Suguru exchange sordid glances. Sharing the same thought.

Pretty little doll.

Loose limbed and spent in Shoko’s lap. Hair mused. So deeply entrenched into sub space you’ll need to sleep it off of to come to your senses.

A work of art, you are.

But not quite broken, yet.

“It’s our turn now, little one.” Deep and measured. Thick with want. Suguru lifts you by your arms off of Shoko’s lap.

His back lays flush against the couch. You straddle his muscular lap. Satoru stands directly behind you.

Suguru’s manhood is rigid. You’d have to impale yourself on him to get any closer. Similarly, Satoru’s length makes itself very present along the curve of your spine.

“Look at me.” Satoru’s throaty demand comes from above your head.

Obedience is the only language you can currently speak, so you tilt back. Soaking in the celestial boy behind you. Closer to God than Man, from this vantage point.

“You want to taste yourself, baby?”

A rhetorical question from Satoru, but you still bobble your head in an eager yes.

“Such a desperate little puppy, aren’t you?” Suguru mocks you, taking one of your puffy nipples into his mouth.

“She is.”

Satoru affirms in between spearing your mouth with his warm muscle. Kissing the breath directly from your lungs until you’re air hungry and clawing at his neck. Leaving red streaks on his pale skin.

Shoko has since poured herself another glass of red wine. Settling herself on the long arm of her couch.

‘Far enough to drown into her own spiral. Close enough to register everything they do to you in the the most permanent part of her mind.’

Dèjá Vu.

But this lifetime? This reiteration of events? It’s fucking sublime.

Shoko’s lips curl into a cheshire smile against the rim of her glass. Hedonistic on every single level known to man and she wouldn’t have it any another way.

Her eyes flicker down to where Suguru’s hands are eclipsing your hips. And Satoru’s hands are cradled into the small of your waist. Hovering you over Suguru’s cock. The weapon of mass destruction that it is.

“Suguru…Suguru it won’t…” Beautiful little panic ascending in pitch.

“It won’t, what baby?” He teases. Eyes fixed on you like the apex predator he is.

Crimson erupts from the tip of your nose to the tips of your ears. Fluttering away from his quicksand gaze.

“What’s the matter, pretty? Don’t tell me you think you can’t handle—“

“I can handle it—I can…handle it.” You cut Satoru’s taunt down, convincing absolutely no one in the room— including yourself.

But the shred of pride you have left comes forward. Bracing your hands on Suguru’s flexed shoulders. Digging little crescent moons into his olive skin.

He can barely bite back the groan in his throat when your wet heat drags along his cockhead.

Twitching around your opening.

Feigning for entry.

“Go ahead, little one.”

“You can do it, baby.”

“Oh FUCK..GOD.” Your volume is nothing in comparison to the fire incinerating your plush walls. Stretching your womanhood in a way that’s ungodly.

Suguru is blinding.

Flashing lights. Black spots in the visual field. Floaters everywhere kind of blinding. The prior encouragement from your lovers did nothing to soften his blow.

Knowing this would be the result of you trying to work his inhuman length inside yourself, Suguru buries himself in one side of your neck. Satoru mirrors his action on the other side.

Gentle adoration. Tender kisses. Light caresses to dull the pain.

“Such a good girl.”

“I knew you could take it, princess.”

“You’re doing so well for me, pretty girl.”

Suguru rocks his hips in a slow, dreamy pace. Back and forth. Encouraging your body to reset around him. And the pressure. The delicious fucking fullness from his cock is mind numbing.

“R—ready.”

Barely loud enough to register. But Suguru could hear your red blood cells colliding with one another in your veins if you keep him next to you long enough.

“Eyes on me when I’m inside you, sweetheart.”

“Yes sir.”

The smile on his lips is no where near as tantalizing as the smile in his crushed velvet eyes.

And for a moment that is going to be on cinematic repeat in everyone’s mind — Suguru thrusts into you like a man trying to repopulate earth. Never once letting you break his eye-contact.

Melodic sounds of bodies smacking together ring throughout the room. Beautiful ripples of flesh, like soft waves during low tide. Your wet sex colliding with his. Him locking you into place because nothing else exists at this moment.

Both Satoru and Shoko’s jaws are slack. Satoru can’t even bring himself to stroke his length thrashing wildly in his hands.

This is hypnotizing.

A motion picture worthy of an Oscar.

You can feel Suguru recreating the shape of your soul. With each thrust. Deliberate. Deep. Ensuring that he will be a part of you, permanently.

“God, ngh Su—fuck..purple..” unintelligible words, incoherent sounds. You’re grasping at rescue from this pleasure.

“Hah..” Suguru’s serrated breaths kiss your lips. “Try again.”

“Suguru, please. I’m cu—I’m pink..pink.”

“Wrong color, princess.” Satoru’s husks above you. Tears of his thick cum streaming steady down his shaft.

Suguru’s bucks into you relentlessly now. Chasing the high you both are riding. Shredding what consciousness you have left. Not that you wanted it, not that you needed it.

“Fuck.”

Suguru’s hips come to a screeching halt. Floating over Shoko’s cushion. Painting your warm walls with his seed. With you filling his lap with your dew. Delirious, choppy intakes of air between your lips and his.

Momentarily forgetting your audience, you instinctively fall into his chest. Every single muscle in your body, suddenly without tone.

Satoru’s mouth is ajar.

Still not completely comprehending the fact that he just came — hands free — watching his best friend rail the conscious mind out of you.

“Blanket, Satoru.” Shoko quietly nudges from her position on the couch.

She can’t blame him for being stunned in place. Her mind is still reeling at the dessert her eyes just feasted on.

“Come here, baby.” Suguru murmurs. Working himself out of you, while Satoru drapes you in Shoko’s throw.

“Thank you.” A tiny chuckle escapes your lips. Cozying into Suguru’s arms. They should be proud of your manners.

And as if you said your cheeky thought out loud, your three lovers break into soft laughter.

“Wait here.” Satoru presses a chaste kiss to your damp forehead. Disappearing into Shoko’s bathroom a moment after.

A small sigh of relief tumbles out of her when she hears the familiar sound of bath water running.

Satoru must’ve done this before. Once or twice.

Suguru, too.

Judging by the way he’s whispering sweet affirmations in your ear. Lulling you to sleep. In his warm, safe embrace.

She’s never seen her friend like this.

“Girls! Bath time!” Satoru beckons from the bathroom.

His voice rustles you out of your post coital daze. Nestling deeper into the crook of Suguru’s neck. Shoko watches the way his eyes rest on your flushed face; stroking his hand along your arm. Intermittently pressing kisses along your hairline.

An enchanting, glass doll they were so eager to shatter just a moment ago.

“Ready, baby?”

Suguru murmurs into your ear. And Shoko just knows he’s hoping for a no. Silently praying for more time with you, pliant in his arms like this.

“Mmhm.” Your puffy lips curl up into a sleepy smile. Glossy-eyed, when you finally pull your heavy lids open.

Suguru’s breath catches in his throat.

Shoko’s heart rattles around its bony cage.

How do you do this?

How do you make it so easy to trip and fall so hopelessly in love with you with a bat of an eyelash?

“…I get it guys, but the water will get cold. And that would be a shame. Because this bath is, perfect.”

Satoru teases from the bedroom doorway. Startling Shoko and Suguru out of the trance you unintentionally put them in.

“You don’t have to carry me!” A half-protest bubbles from your lips when Suguru stands with you wrapped up in Shoko’s favorite blanket.

“Shhh, let me do this sweet girl.” He coos, for your ears only. Navigating around Satoru’s lean stature.

Shoko follows closely behind him, itching for her alone time with you.

“You’re going to let her feet touch the ground, Suguru?!”

Her sarcasm is followed by light-hearted laughter settling around your bodies.

The four of you in tandem like a world class orchestra. Shoko is already lamenting waking up from this dream.

“Not if I can help it.” Suguru sets you down on the kitchen sink. Nudging enough space for his muscular hips between your legs.

He cradles your chin in his hand. Taking as many butterfly kisses as you’ll allow.

“Mmm, goodnight, Suguru.”

His name rolls sweet and soft off of your tongue. Like a dark chocolate truffle, and suddenly Shoko wishes her name was Suguru.

Satoru does too. Judging by the way he yanks his counterpart away from you. His eyes caress your face before his hand does.

“How are you feeling, princess?”

Hushed and saccharine. Doting. As if a decibel too loud is akin to Hollow Purple. Circling his fingers around your thighs.

How foreign.

Shoko can almost taste Satoru’s concern. Attentive in a way that’s inconceivable.

From her vantage point, she watches you ensnare Satoru in those big, helpless doe eyes. Tempting him to fuck the living daylight out of you (again) but also handle you like a butterfly with a broken wing.

“Just a bit worn out, pretty boy.” Said with a dreamy little laugh. And Satoru would chase your voice into the clouds if he could.

He drapes your arms around his neck and you’re putty in his hands.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby.” He grazes the corner of your lips with his. A dull, insistent ache welling between Shoko’s legs.

You’re irresistible like this.

“Unless you want us to wear you out, again.”

“Satoru!” Your tiny, ineffectual fists slam against Satoru’s pecs. Making the trio even more fond of you.

Their muse.

“Alright boys, I can take it from here.”

Unhurried but finite, Shoko shoos her best friends out of the bathroom. Not before Satoru can steal one last kiss from your swollen lips.

In a matter of minutes Shoko is settled in a sea of warm, eucalyptus bubbles. The light sheen of essential oil grazing her skin, still glimmering with remnants of love-making.

Her eyes ride the dips and swells of your alluring lines.

Balmy skin decorated with lust-drunk imprints from Satoru, Suguru and herself. Hand prints. Tiny crescent moons from fingernails. Ellipses of bite marks. A kaleidoscope of red, blue, deep purple. Living, breathing residue of the desperation — the need — you so easily draw from them.

“Such a pretty girl.”

You flush under Shoko’s praise. Newly stroked desire bubbling in the back of her throat. You’re so full of averted gazes and warmed cheeks. Twiddling your thumbs. Tentatively shifting a few paces away from the bathtub.

So shy, now. It’s adorable.

“Come here, baby.” Shoko curls her fingers inward.

“Okay.” Your response high and thin. Feet moving without resistance.

Obedient little doll.

Shoko’s wet dreams couldn’t even come up with a vision this decadent. You’re an oil painting. Soft on the hands, even softer on the eyes.

You nestle in the warm waters between Shokos legs. Her nipples pebble against your supple flesh. Resting the back of your head on her chest. A lock-in-key fit.

Comfortable, serene quiet sheaths the room around you. And Shoko is soaring.

“I like you like this.” She presses a small kiss against your temple.

“Like what?” You whisper.

Shoko’s hands travel up your navel, cupping your sensitive tits. You arch into her touch. Kitten mewls escape you. So responsive.

“Soft.” Your nipples stiffen between her thumb and index finger.

“Vulnerable…a little broken.” Shoko continues. Catching your needy gaze. Pupils blown to full moons. She hovers her lips over yours. Already parted, hanging open. Ready to receive.

“Shoko.”

Such a beautiful, pitiful little whine. Tilting your chin up, chasing Shoko’s lips. But she maintains the minimal distance. Instead, kneading your mounds. Drawing a gorgeous melody of whimpers; squirming beneath her ministrations.

“I like being the one to put your pieces back together,” Shoko teases, dropping her tone. And you draw her in like a moth to flame.

Shoko’s lips slot into yours with ease. Puzzle pieces meant to fit. She swipes her tongue over yours. Nibbles along your puffy bottom lip.

You’re delicious.

And panting, when Shoko finally pulls away. Aurora borealis in your eyes. Sparkling. Expansive.

And even though you are putty in her hands right now. Docile and pliant, hanging on every brush of a finger, every kiss. Shoko is falling.

Free falling.

Without a safety stop in sight.

573 notes · View notes

starboyshoyo · 11 months

Text

Unspoken Words

Characters: All NRC students x reader (seperately)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Genre: hurt/comfort

Unspoken reasons why the NRC boys love you!

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle Rosehearts seems like perfection; like the very image of what one should strive for. Anyone who knows him can admire his hard work and diligence, because that is the extent to what they can see. But you see his delight at the simplest of things; things that he never got to experience in childhood. Riddle holds you dear to him because you encourage his rare moments of whimsy, and love them wholly- just as he loves you.

Trey Clover is always being told that he should aim higher, because the talent he holds would be squandered should he go down the path of the simple village baker. He smiles and politely tells them that he’ll consider it- but really, he’s tired of the input he never wanted in the first place. It’s all the more reason to appreciate the way you trust in his dreams. Trey knows what he wants, and you won’t push him for anything more.

Cater Diamond has two different sides, like the faces on a card. Sometimes he’s the party-loving Cay-kun, and other times he wants nothing more than to collapse in his bed and sleep the day away. Being Cay-kun is exhausting. It’s not entirely him but he can’t seem to bring himself to show the real Cater to anyone but you, because you understand that the mask is necessary sometimes. It’s okay if he’s not ready to show the world his face yet. You’ll be waiting for him when he is.

Bluntly honest is the best way to describe Ace Trappola. If someone asked, he’d call himself a realist. He’s not here to mess around or play the hero. And sometimes that can hurt people’s feelings and push them away. But being truthful and being mean are two different things, and he knows he can always trust you to tell him when he oversteps. Ace may fumble from time to time, so he’s glad you’re always there to help him back up.

Deuce Spade was reluctant to begin dating you at first. He wasn’t proud of who he was in middle school, nor is he proud of who he is at the moment. He thought that he was unworthy of you, that he needed more time to grow. When he first figured out that you weren’t the most perfect person either, it didn’t turn him away. In fact, it relieved him. Deuce loves that you can be imperfect together- and that you’re willing to grow alongside him even more.

SAVANACLAW

Leona Kingscholar is used to being the spare; the disposable one. Even though he’s the second prince of the Sunset Savannah, even though he was born into a life of privilege, he knows what it’s like to have to fight for yourself and your place in the world. When he met you, he could hardly believe that for once, a fight wasn’t necessary. It took a while for him to trust, but now Leona knows that he will always be your first choice, as you will be his.

From the outside, Ruggie Bucchi’s obsession over food is a bit excessive. Does one really need to defend every scrap with his life? He’s tired of others laughing at the way he packs snacks in his bag and sneaks crumbs off the tabletop. It’s telling that you hand him extras when you don’t have to, that you make sure he always has more than he needs. It shows that you value the things he values, so that he can do the same in return to you.

Jack Howl is a lone wolf, just like his name. He’s always relied on his own strength to get by. Owing a debt is like putting his life in someone else’s hands, so accepting favors is something that he’ll never do. When he first realizes he loves you, it’s hard to accept that another person now holds a part of his heart. But give him some time and he’ll begin to appreciate having someone to share the burden with. It’s refreshing to have company without debt or guilt.

OCTAVINELLE

They say those who have suffered the most have the most empathy. Azul Ashengrotto thinks there must be something wrong with him, then. After all the ridicule he’s endured, all he wants is to watch his tormentors cry as well. So why does his heart beat so fast then, when he sees how kind you are to others? There’s so little logic to it- but the heart wants what it wants.

Jade Leech gives only as much as he takes. In his mismatched eyes, it’s only reasonable that a transaction is balanced on both sides. So it’s a surprise to him when you don’t demand everything to be split, fifty-fifty. It’s with you that he learns the connection between trust and equals. Not having to count out every exchange leaves Jade more time to love you with all his heart.

Floyd Leech is notorious for his mercurial behavior. It’s a laughing matter for some students, and the target of frustration for many others when he fails to show the same enthusiasm he had before. If he’s already in a bad mood, then why are they making it worse by nagging him? You’re his retreat in times like that, because you take his emotions seriously, no matter how ridiculous they seem in the moment.

SCARABIA

Kalim Al-Asim knows he can be dense. As the heir to a merchant empire, he’s got some level of self-awareness in him, even if he doesn’t always know how to use it. He can tell when he’s said the wrong thing to you. The wringing of hands, the twisting of brows make him so nervous, but he can’t do anything but laugh it off lest he say something to make it worse. So he appreciates it when you patiently explain to him how you feel, even when you’re not in the mood to. Sometimes he just needs help to understand.

There’s no doubt that Jamil Viper has… questionable methods of obtaining his means to an end. With the precision and patience of a snake, he can use any means necessary to strike. But when you’re around he finds himself thinking more of what’s right than just what he wants. You are his conscience, in the best and worst of times; and he can’t help but love you for it.

POMEFIORE

Vil Schoenheit’s entire life has been publicized since the day he stepped into the spotlight. While he takes pride in his looks and envies anyone who can shine brighter than him, he finds that when he is with you, he can be whatever he wants to be with no eyes on him. No cameras, no rehearsals, no pressure, just two hearts beating side by side.

Rook Hunt has a lot to say, and so little time to say it. He is always on the move, always examining something else to find the beauty in it. And though it’s hard to be patient, he loves you for always listening when he talks, even when he rambles for hours about the smallest things. To sit still for that long is a feat in itself.

The frustrations of Epel Felmier are evident when others treat him as lesser simply because of the way he looks. He’s still learning how to use his charm in other ways, but it’s hard to unlearn so many old habits. Punishments from Vil don’t help either. So when the work gets too harsh, you make him forget about being weak or strong- and when you’re in front of him, all he wants to be is yours.

IGNIHYDE

Idia Shroud is used to watching the world go by without him. Sometimes he feels like an outside observer, or even a roadblock for others to climb over on their way to greatness. But with you, he never feels like an inconvenience. He feels wanted and needed- something he hasn’t felt for a long, long time.

DIASOMNIA

Malleus Draconia is lonely. It’s plain and simple as that. He wants the company of others, outside of those assigned to guard him and bow to his every whim. So Malleus covets the fact that you are simply here, by his side of your own volition. For the first time in his life, Malleus thinks that he might be content.

Lilia Vanrouge has lived through centuries. As a human, you cannot even begin to fathom bridging the gap in time. There is just so much that he has seen that he can’t share with you. So please, just let him hold you while he has the chance. Let him cherish the way you live in the moment. Together, you can forget the coming of the future.

Sebek Zigvolt is constantly under pressure. Not from others, but from himself- but either way, the stress gets to him. He would never admit it, but the stolen moments you spend together make him happier than he’s ever been. His shoulders ease, and his scowl disappears for a time. Just don’t point it out, or they’ll be back again full force- accompanied by a blush.

It’s not that Silver doesn’t care about what people are saying- he really, really does. But when he falls asleep so easily, some people come to think that he’s bored out of his mind. He was anxious that you’d think the same, but to his surprise, you understand his struggles. He’s trying his best to be more attentive to you, and you welcome his efforts with open arms.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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msbigredmachine · 27 days

Text

New To This - Chapter 1

Jaded by her fiancé’s disinterest in her ambitions to become a professional wrestler, Delilah Parrish’s life takes an interesting turn when one of WWE’s top names offers her the support she’s not getting at home.

Pairing: Jey Uso/OC

Warnings: As we go along...

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This was initially a Roman fic but I realized I have too many upcoming stories featuring him, so I switched it up and passed it off to Jey. Hope you enjoy!

---------------

“Come on, Parrish, move your ass! Get on her!”

The damp, unruly strands of baby hair in Delilah Parrish’s eyes temporarily obscured her vision and made it difficult to take on her trainer’s instruction. Brushing them away impatiently, her mind flitted to the next line of offense, but her opponent had tackled her to the canvas before her thoughts could fully register. The hard surface made unfriendly contact with her body, but the rushing adrenaline helped fight off the pain, and she battled with her opponent trying to twist her body into a sleeper hold. Delilah tried to concentrate on countering the hold, but between the hundreds of thoughts scrambling around her head and the yelling coming from outside the regulation wrestling ring, it was a near impossible feat.

“For fuck’s sake, Parrish, what are you doin’?” Pounding his palm hard on the mat, her trainer, Makena 'Tank' Kalua, shouted again. “Quit pullin’ her arm like that! You’re gonna break it!”

The other woman, an older, more experienced student named Janie from England, easily slipped out of the armbar Delilah was attempting on her and sat up, seizing both of Delilah’s legs and twisting them in a figure-four leg lock. Usually it was Delilah’s job to sell this move, try to roll over to ease the pressure, or even grab the bottom rope for relief, just like she’d learned. Instead, she kicked her legs carelessly, grunting as she wildly fought out of the hold.

“What the fuck! Is that what I taught you?” Tank screamed again. Blowing the whistle around his neck, he reached under the bottom rope and grabbed Delilah by her leg, forcibly dragging her out of the ring and setting her on her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Huffing irritably, Delilah yanked her arm away from him and marched away to the other end of the warehouse, ignoring Janie and the other girls that glared wearily after her, wondering what Tank saw in her to begin with. Delilah wondered that herself sometimes.

Ever since she was a little girl growing up in the tiny town of Pensacola, Florida, she dreamed about being in the middle of the fabled squared circle, performing for sellout crowds all over the world, making a name for herself in the notoriously tough wrestling business. And now she was finally getting her chance. In two days’ time, she would be partaking in her very first singles match, lacing up the boots she had worked two extra shifts at the local gym to afford. At last, she was taking that small step towards her dream.

So why did she not feel ready? Why was she doubting herself at the last hour?

One word; Andre.

She was starting to lose count of how many fights they’d gotten into in the six months since she’d embarked on what her fiancé openly thought was her childish desire to become a professional wrestler. Once he realized that it wasn’t just some hobby she would lose interest in after a week, his support began to dwindle more and more as the months went on. There were heated arguments between them on a weekly basis it seemed, mostly on what her ambitions were costing the couple financially. After all, they still had a wedding to plan; their already tight budget was being nibbled at by her exorbitant wrestling class fees. There were bills to pay around the house; she’d already squandered a month’s salary to purchase her wrestling outfit and boots. Yesterday, Delilah had kept quiet, refused to argue, and let Andre vent all he wanted. But this morning, her nerves were starting to kick in over her upcoming match, and when Andre began another tirade as he headed out to work, she not-so-politely shut him down. Tempers were lost and words were exchanged, and both left the house angry. Delilah hadn’t heard from him all day. Secretly, she was glad. She didn’t need his crap today.

Evidently, Tank didn’t need her crap either. The trainer usually gave her some leeway but today he wasn’t having it at all. “Hey, get your ass back here!” His deep, angry voice sounded behind her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Where ya goin’ huh? You wanna run home like a little girl?” he asked her. “Go ahead, go.”

“Just stop, alright?” Delilah snapped, her fists clenched involuntarily as she fought the urge to hit him right in his face. Unfortunately she didn’t stand a chance against him, not when he weighed over a hundred pounds more than she did and was an entire foot taller than her, and certainly not with his over two decades of wrestling experience in comparison to her puny half-year.

Moving closer to her, Tank placed a calloused hand on her shoulder. “What’s goin’ on Dee? You’ve been acting up today.”

Delilah knew she was among the very few trainees Tank afforded the luxury of his concern and sympathy. She liked to think it was because she was one of the teachable ones, easily picking up the wrestling moves like she’d been doing it for years. She was always one of the first to arrive and one of the last to leave, helping set up the ring and take it down after classes. Her attitude was refreshing, and she eventually managed to become something resembling a friend to him.

But there was only so much friendship could do for her current situation. Running a hand through her hair, Delilah tried to figure out where to start answering his question. She was fuckin’ tired, for one. She was wrestling in front of an actual crowd in a mere forty-eight hours. Her fiancé was being an ass. Her pride however, wouldn’t let her say those things out loud. That he considered her to be a friend didn’t mean she had to go crying to him for every problem she had. “It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she murmured, choosing to focus on the Polynesian tribal tattoo spread over his right arm.

Tank rolled his eyes with a huff. “We both know that’s bullshit, but if you say so.” Turning back for the ring, he sighed heavily. “You got sixty seconds to clear your head, then you get your ass back in that ring. We got shit to do so hurry up.” With that, he walked away.

She expected no other response. He never coddled her, not during working hours anyway. She didn’t want him to, either. The last thing she wanted to look was weak in front of fellow trainees; people, as Tank always reminded her, who wanted this career, who wanted this life, more than anything else in the world. And that brought her back to the same question she’d been asking herself for months.

How badly did she want it?

----------------

The next couple of hours seemed to go on forever. Tired, bruised and battered from a long day of training, Delilah hitched her bag over her shoulder and cast a glance at the round black clock on the wall as she walked towards the exit of the warehouse. Andre had sent a text message that filled her with hope of reconciliation after their heated morning. Maybe they could sit down and talk about what had happened, and hopefully work things out like they always did.

“Hey, Parrish, come here a sec,” Tank's voice sounded out of nowhere. “Got someone I want you to meet.”

Sighing heavily, Delilah turned her gaze towards the doorway of the small office where he stood. “Do I have to? I gotta meet up with Dre.”

“He’ll be there when you get home,” he dismissed her excuse. “Come say hi. You won’t regret it, come on.”

With a quiet groan, Delilah shuffled toward the office. “I hope not,” she mumbled, stopping short when her eyes fell upon the hulking, tattooed figure sitting on Tank's desk. Her eyes widened and her jaw slackened, unable to believe what she was seeing. “Oh shit!”

Tank's grin widened as he pushed her further into his office. “Told ya. Delilah, meet Jey Uso. Jey, this is one of my students, Delilah Parrish.”

Standing up from his place on the edge of his friend’s desk, Joshua Fatu extended a hand to the toned beauty standing in front of him. He smiled when she placed her hand in his, noticed how it trembled. “Sup, Delilah, nice to meet you,” he said.

Delilah tried to reply, but her mouth seemed to have forgotten its primary function. She could feel her face burning as she continued to hold his large hand, wanting to let go but somehow unable to. It wasn’t every day she shook hands, or was even within a mile radius of Main Event Jey Uso himself. She’d been a big fan of his ever since his debut with his brother, Jimmy. To see them evolve and grow from a tag team to singles stars was so rewarding. The Bloodline storyline was must-see TV for her, and she had found herself sympathizing with the Right Hand Man over the course of the storyline. She followed him on X and Instagram, and had a couple of his Yeet T-shirts. To be in the presence of a man whom she watched on TV every week, a guy she grew to idolize and respect so much, was beyond mind-blowing.

Before her silence could grow awkward, Delilah removed her hand from his grasp. She’d always hoped that the day she got to meet a WWE Superstar, she’d act much cooler and more composed and not like the average tongue-tied fan. She knew she just failed miserably.

Josh crossed his muscled arms over his chest, his gaze firmly on her face. “So Delilah, Tank tells me you gotta lot of potential, uce. Says you’re very talented,” he said, his deep, gruff voice tinged with curiosity.

“Well, all those bumps he’s taken over the years have finally damaged his brain cells,” she said sarcastically, smiling when she drew a laugh from both men, particularly Jey.

“Nah, I’ve known this fool for damn near twenty years now,” said Josh, jerking his thumb in Tank's direction, “If he say you got talent, then you got talent.” He sat back on the desk and let his eyes admire her, silently wondering just how smoking hot the body hidden underneath the baggy clothes was. “So how long you been training?” he inquired.

Delilah shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. “I started working out about nine months ago, tryna get in ring shape,” she answered. “But I’ve been training for about six.”

Josh nodded his head. “And your first show’s the day after tomorrow, right?” he queried, keeping his eyes on hers.

“My first match,” she corrected him. “I’ve been to a few shows, done some ring announcing, valeted a couple of times,” she added proudly, as though that would make her look more credible in her idol’s eyes. As she spoke, she stole the chance to look him over. Diamond Cuban links glittered around his neck and both his wrists and gave a shine to his fitted Nike sweatsuit that covered up the tattoos she knew decorated a good portion of his russet skin. He was taller than she expected, and just as ruggedly handsome. And those eyes…a hint of danger lurked behind the jovial, friendly facade, very much giving off bad boy vibes. Against her will, she was intrigued.

Ignoring the eye-fucking session going on in his office, Tank patted Josh’s shoulder. “A’ight y’all, time to get outta here.” He ushered the two of them out of his office and towards the exit of the gym.

“So…what brings you back to town, Jey?” she asked Josh as they walked side by side behind Tank.

The Samoan smiled at the young woman who hadn’t stopped blushing since they met. “Not much. Just hangin’ out with family and shit,” he replied. “Thought I’d come visit my mans over here, but now I hear there’s a show in town, I may just stick around a while longer.” He paused, noting the way her face paled a little. “You nervous?”

Delilah blew out a breath. “Honestly? I’m terrified.”

Josh shook his head. “Naw, don’t be. Focus on all the positives, how far you’ve come, and you’ll be fine.”

She nodded and bit her lip. That was reassuring, just a little bit. “Thanks,” she said, noting that her trainer’s car was heading their way. Tank always dropped her off at home as he lived not too far off from hers. “Well, I better get going. It was so cool to meet you, Jey,” she added, thinking it better to wave this time rather than shake hands.

“Same here Delilah. And trust me when I say I’ll be seeing you more often in the future,” Josh replied.

For some reason, it sounded to Delilah like there were a handful of promises in those words, but she waved off the silly notion immediately and opted to leave before she made a fool of herself in front of the Jey Uso. It felt like she was walking on air as she approached Tank's car, still star-struck, still stunned by the last couple of minutes that had just happened.

But then, as she slammed the car door shut, she remembered what was waiting for her at home, and with a tired sigh, she was forced to push the moment away, forced to forget about the intense brown eyes that continued to stare after her even as the car drove away from the warehouse.

--------------------

Thoughts so far?

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

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#jey uso #jey uso fanfic #jey uso imagine #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso smut #main event jey uso #jey uso x black oc

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ellewritesalright · 2 months

Text

The Lost Princess - Part 1

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Synopsis: The old Queen Mother of Kerch's former royal family is offering a hefty reward to whoever returns her rumored-to-be-alive granddaughter to her. Kaz being Kaz hears about the reward and hatches an elaborate plot involving a fake princess. Reader is a lowly amnesiac orphan and escaped indenture who flees to Ketterdam where she gets tangled in Kaz Brekker's plot.

A/N: Hello friends!! Here is part one of a series I started writing a few years back but never published. It's inspired by the movie and musical Anastasia. I hope you all enjoy, and I hope it makes enough sense haha

Warnings: sickness, mentions of death, mentions of drowning, mentions of violence. pls let me know if I've missed anything

Word Count: 2056

..........

It was happening again.

You sat upright in the bed of your cheap lodgings, swinging your legs to the side and touching the floor. The threadbare rug was itchy against your toes as you took deep breaths, a desperate attempt at grounding yourself. Still, the dizziness did not subside. It came along every so often, never without the cryptic nightmares. There was always vertigo and memories of plunging into dark waters.

At least, you thought they must be memories. There was a significant gap in your mind from birth to the age of about ten, and the first thing you could remember was waking up on a fishing boat on the True Sea. The fishers handed you over to their boss, a wealthy merchant named Devisser, once you made port, and you were made to work for him in a fifteen-year indenture. You had worked as a scullery maid in that man's second home on the southern shores, but you managed to escape your indenture five years early, running off to Ketterdam.

Nowadays you were free to do whatever you pleased--if it was within budget, of course. You had precious little in your life, and you couldn't squander your money in the gambling dens of the city.

You had to be smart if you were to make it to Os Kervo. Another maid at the house had said that there was a better chance of smuggling yourself to Novyi Zem than to find a safe passage to Ravka, but you didn't let her sway you. You had to get to Os Kervo. It was difficult to explain, but you felt instinctively that someone was waiting there for you. In your dreams, the better and brighter ones where you could feel the warmth of arms around you, there was a voice that whispered, "I'll meet you there, my little tiger. We'll be together in Os Kervo."

The only trouble was how you could get there. You had no travel papers or identification, and it was difficult to obtain any--even fake ones--with such little money. It was a difficult position you were in.

So you went about your life, picking up odd jobs using fake names. Your name is already fake as it was. The surname, Vos, was given to you by one of the more kind fishers who pulled you from the water. He gathered a mound of blankets around you and sat with his arm around you, trying desperately to keep you warm. Sometimes you wondered about him, wondered whether he was still fishing for Devisser. Perhaps if the captain of that ship had not seen fit to hand you over to their boss the kind fisher would have taken you in. Life might have been better if you had been offered a chance at a family instead of an apron and a crushing daily workload.

Your feet carried you to the wardrobe in this shabby lodging room. You had to sweep a spider off your jacket before you slipped it on. The morning air was a nice reprieve against your warm face as you walked down the streets. Shops were opening, food vendors were starting the fire in their ovens; Ketterdam was waking up.

You meant to walk further than the Barrel, but you stopped as you saw the window of some sort of pawn shop. There was a dress in the window. It was the emerald green of a kind of fabric you had never owned but knew instinctively would be smooth to the touch, like a flat stone one might skip on the ocean. There was something so familiar about the short ruffles of the over-the-shoulder sleeves; perhaps you had seen a guest at the big house wearing something similar when you used to spy from the door to the servant's quarters.

There was no way you would be able to purchase such a beautiful gown, you barely had enough money to get by as it was, but you were drawn into the shop because of it. You had to spend some more time around it and the other beautiful items in the shop. You hadn't been around such lavish things since… well, never.

The bell above the shop door jangled, alerting a woman at the counter to your appearance. She smiled, but the sight struck you in the chest. As an amnesiac orphan, you learned early on that people saw you as weak, helpless, and naive. For your youth and lack of guidance, you were perceived as easy pickings, and people tried their tricks on you more often than you could count, especially here in Ketterdam. You'd learned to tell what was genuine and what was fake when you interacted with others, and the woman's smile was the first real smile you'd seen in a long time.

"A beautiful dress for a beautiful young lady," the woman said.

You shook your head with a pleasant enough smile. "I was just looking. I could never afford such a thing."

"And yet here you are in my shop." She followed your eyes to a case of assorted valuables. When she saw the dull music box you stared at she hummed. "Would you like to know a secret?" You turned to her "That music box is from the old palace. It belonged to the missing princess herself, I swear on Ghezen and the saints."

You pondered the validity of her words, keeping a level expression so as not to upset her with your doubt. Everything you heard about the dead royal family seemed like it happened a lifetime ago, and no amount of rumours about one of their daughters being alive somewhere would make it any less a ghost story.

Still, you smiled politely. Despite her pleasant expression, she was only trying to sell you something, something you would not need even if you could have it. It wasn't even the most eye-catching thing in the display, just a decrepit old music box of tarnished silver. The music probably didn't even play anymore.

"It's lovely," you lied, "though I don't believe I could afford it."

"I could give you a special deal. I like to think there's something in my shop for everyone. The music box deserves to go home with you."

"That's generous, but--truly--I cannot make a purchase."

She tilted her head at you. "What is it you want, my dear? You've come into my shop, looked around, and you have the nerve to refuse my generosity--what is holding you back?"

"I've already told you," you said, "I couldn't afford it."

"And if I gave something for free?"

You brushed her off. "That's a terrible business model."

"Perhaps. But I like you, little runaway that you are. You're a long way from home--you deserve something nice."

You felt your pulse quicken. She shouldn't have known that. You weren't on the list of runaway indentures, so the stadwatch wouldn’t be looking for you. You breathed in before you could turn to her, balancing your composure with great care. Emotions were not useful in situations like this. "What brought you to that conclusion?"

"You keep your head down, which is normal in the Barrel, but you're not doing it out of habit, you're doing it out of fear. You must be hiding from something--from someone."

She was apt, you'd give her that. The trouble was figuring out the degree to which you could trust her. She could sell you back to Devisser in a second if she wanted to, but she could also be willing to help you. After all, she did say she liked you. You looked her in the eyes and then spoke.

"I'm trying to get to Ravka. The thing is, I don't have the money for travel papers, be they legal or illegal. I can't afford even that, and I could never afford anything in your shop." You straightened out, about to leave. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time--"

"Brekker can help you."

You stopped in your tracks.

“He can get you to Ravka, no travel papers necessary.”

You faced her again, questioning, “Where can I find this Brekker?”

“He owns a club down the road from here. The sign has one of those annoying blackbirds on it.”

“A raven?”

“No, a pesky crow.” She fiddled with a set of keys around her neck. “Anyways, he can help you on your way. I assure you.”

“How much will this information cost me?”

“Nothing, my dear. I hope you make it to Ravka.”

You thanked her, ducking your head as you left the shop. You kept a wary eye about you as you wove through the streets, finding your way back to your lodgings. There was little trust in such a wicked city as Ketterdam, specifically here in the barrel, and you were constantly looking out for any sign of danger. The shopkeeper wasn’t dangerous, not from what you could tell, but you had to keep your wits. One false move and you could be sent back to Devisser.

You couldn’t let that happen.

..........

Kaz stepped out from the back of the shop after the bell above the door rang out once more, signifying your departure. He was lucky to have been behind a particularly packed shelf furthest from the door, else you would have seen him and wouldn’t have explained your plan to Eugenia, the shopkeeper. Eugenia, for her part, did well to nudge you in the direction of the Crow Club. Undoubtedly she would want some credit for that, he knew. And, just as he thought, she brought it up as soon as he reappeared.

"I've found your missing princess for you, Kaz," Eugenia smirked. "And how valuable she'll be for you."

"You didn't do anything for me, Eugenia. She'll be just as impossible as the others," he retorted.

He'd been auditioning young women to play the part of the missing princess for months now. Ever since he'd heard of a hefty reward posed by the old duchess and grandmother to the princess, he'd devised a plan, learning everything he could about the toppled royal family.

"I think she's the one. Do you know why?"

He kept his stare neutral, but the disapproval remained on his lips in permanence. Eugenia liked to speak as though she knew best, leading tourists and tramps into traps as she sold them tin under the guise that it was rare silver. Even wisdom offered by her would be false.

She continued. "She'll play the part--and she'll be damn good at it--because she's desperate. Desperation makes us do what we otherwise would not."

He tilted a brow at her. "What do you want?"

"Waive six months of my rent," she said. There was no way she thought that he would accept this deal. He didn't even have confirmation that you would find him or that you would be willing to go through with his masquerade. Eugenia was a fool.

"If she is a good fit for the princess, I will waive one month of your rent," he bargained.

"Hold on, she is going to make you a million Kruge--I deserve more than a month for that."

Kaz frowned at her, leaning into his cane. Who was she to make demands? "Firstly, there's no guarantee that she can do the job. Secondly, even if she is a good fit, I don't owe you anything. You decided to send her to me before you thought to broker a deal; I don't owe you a thing."

She thumbed at her ring of keys. Eugenia was upset with herself and with him, he could tell.

"If she can play the part," Kaz said, straightening out, "I am willing to waive three months of your rent on the condition that you supply me with whatever I might need from this shop free of cost."

"Whatever you need for the job, right? I can't just give you anything you want from now on."

He nodded. "Just for the job. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal."

Kaz left the shop without the rent that he'd initially come to collect, but with something much more valuable if he played his cards right. He'd only caught a glimpse of you, but he was inclined to believe what Eugenia said. Desperation makes us do what we otherwise would not, and you had sounded plenty desperate.

..........

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in the other parts of this series please comment on this part or send me an ask. And if you want to request a fic, please feel free to send in an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Tags: @justvibbinghere @happyhauntt

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #shadow and bone fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #the lost princess

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hellisharchive · 2 months

Text

・﹒・ comatose dreams [1]

Summary: After suffering from a fatal car crash, you had become comatose and had no hope of waking up anytime soon. You didn't know that, however, you thought you had died. After finding yourself in Hell, you wind up landing a job with Vox as your boss. You both fall quickly and deeply, but true love doesn't always work out.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sex, masturbation, slight StaticMoth,

Notes: This fanfic is inspired by this lovely post by @timeslugarts! I would suggest reading it for a full summary, however if you want to go in blind, then don't!

﹒Stepping Stones﹒

An entire year working for VoxTech, what was your job, you ask? Well, you started out as a simple camera operator, then worked your way up to personal assistant, and you've had a crush on the television man for a good year now. Unfortunately, Vox always seemed so out of reach, so out of your league, you never even tried to even flirt with him and hoping he'd notice. He was an Overlord, one of the Vees, you were probably seen as nothing to him. Which hurt to think about, but was true nonetheless. So, you worked and went through your days with all your feelings festering inside you, ready to burst.

"Vox, you have a meeting with Vel and Val at three pm today to discuss potential strategies with Alastor returning, would you like to cancel?" You watched him as he adjusted his bowtie, ensuring that his outfit was perfect as always. He also had a tendency to cancel his meetings, but to the chagrin of his partners since he arrengaed them in the first place, but you still forced him to attend at least some.

"No, I know if I don't they'll be on my ass about it later" Turning from the mirror, he looked at you with a bored expression before putting on one of his smiles that you thought would be fake, but it was genuine. From working with him, you've learned to identify what smiles are real and ones that aren't.

"What? Do you really want to be alone with me THAT badly?" His smile then moved to a smirk, causing you get flustered and fumble with the tablet you were holding. Shit. Was that the first time he flirted with you? Vox chuckled as you regained your bearings, clearing your throat, you tried to remain professional.

"Well no sir, I was just uh, caught off guard by your uh...assumption" You coughed as he started to walk out of the room, knowing you'll diligently follow, and you did. You shut the door behind you and followed him as he made his way to his head of operations. He didn't tell you where he was going, but you knew his route every single day, that is- if he does, you'll still follow him wherever he went. You'll always be loyal to him and him only.

"Well, let's hope I don't have to calm Valentino down again today after yesterday..." He scowled just thinking about it. Yesterday, Val had yet again another temper tantrum and you watched as your boss did his thing. It was something you've grown accustomed to with your time as the tv man's personal assistant, they both fucked with no strings attached. Sure, they weren't together, but it still squandered you telling the truth about your feelings even further.

"Hopefully not, sir" You spoke as he entered his main control room, where he could spy on everyone and everything. He mainly has been monitoring the hotel and Alastor, even when the Radio Demon was gone for seven years, he never stopped bringing him up. The deer Overlord has only been back for a few months and he was the only thing Vox brought up for entire days sometimes. You didn't mind it though, it was pretty entertaining to witness. Sitting down in his chair, you grabbed yours and sat next to him as he observed everyone, trying to find Alastor roaming around. He checked the hotel first but couldn't find him with his scope of range. Time passes as he does his daily checking and observing, replying to emails, and the like. You busy yourself with checking his schedules and any business opportunities. You didn't realize that he stopped speaking until his sudden voice breaking the silence startled you.

"Do you think he'll ever take me seriously?" He spoke oddly quiet, his usual self gone as you swore you heard the faintest crackle in his voice. Looking up from your tablet, you saw that his head was down, looking at his lap with his hands fiddling each other as a sign of nerves. Sighing, you stood up and walked in front of him. Gently setting your hand on his shoulder, it caused him to look up with a face similar to a sad puppy. Smiling softly, with your other free hand, you placed it on his other shoulder.

"I know one day he will, sir. Trust me, you'll beat him and be the strongest overlord in Hell" You almost said "with me by your side" but refrained, knowing it was best not to mention that at all to him. This was about cheering him up, not entertaining your stupid fantasies. But, you saw as a digital blush faintly appear on his screen made your heart leap. You? A measly assistant managed to make THE Vox blush? You two were entranced, the feeling of leaning closer overwhelmed you as you both slowly inched closer and closer. What were you doing? You both were about six inches apart as he placed a hand over yours, now smiling devilishly as he chuckled.

"Of course I will, I just need someone by my side to do it" Did he...? You didn't have to fully process what he meant by that as you saw Vox's screen change to an incoming call with a ring. The moment ended as you cleared your throat and pulled away, taking your hands off his shoulders like they became fire. Of course- Valentino.

"Are you fucking-" He scowled as he transmitted the video call to one of his many screens, showing a very scandalously clad moth lounging on his bed, smoking and turning the screen into red before dissipating.

"Hey Voxy~ I need a fuck and I need it now. Angel Dust won't return my calls" Now, you weren't the biggest fan of Valentino, despite Vox also not being the best. But even as a sinner, you still did not agree with how that man treated others, especially his main star. Hearing the fact that he was demanding sex from your boss made your blood boil, yet you remained calm and neutral.

"Not now Val, find one of your other whores to fuck, I'm not in the mood" He didn't try to hide is displeasure as he held a very pissed off face staring at the pimp. Usually Vox never denied having sex with Valentino, so the sudden anger surpised you. Valentino just sighed, leaning closer to the camera. You weren't sure if he could see you, you hoped he didn't.

"You aren't fucking anyone else, right baby?" The question gave you whiplash despite not being the receiver. The moth sounded innocuous when you knew very well he manipulated Vox along with others. You knew his game.

"Fuck off Val" The tv Overlord than hung up, growling as he pushed out of his chair and started to walk towards the middle of the room. Following him, he headed back into the rest of the tower and back to his room. Before you could step in, he stood in the doorway, preventing your access.

"Don't bother me, do whatever the fuck you want for the next few hours, I don't care" and just like that, he slammed the door in your face. What the hell just happened? Taking a deep breath in, you mull over what you could possibly do when you decide to just take a walk. You needed some time outside the tower every once a while, so a walk would be perfect. Not wanting to head out in your work attire, you head to your room which was right next to Vox's (easier to be his assistant with you so close) and change. As you walked by your boss' door, you heard him panting and immediately flushed, walking away quickly as it felt wrong to hear him masturbate. You did walk in on him one time by pure accident and even to to this day he still teases you over it and makes fun of you. As you passed by, you could have sworn you heard him moan out your name, but he couldn't have. Right? Your ears were just playing tricks on you. Rushing past, opting to ignore it entirely, you went on your walk.

#vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #staticmoth #voxval

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fortheloveofwonderland · 11 months

Text

Somewhere to Belong | 1/3 | S.R

Gif does not depict the child’s appearance

A/N - this will be a three parter, written for @imagining-in-the-margins Family Challenge.

Part 2 | Part 3

Summary - You and Spencer have only been dating a few months when he drops the bombshell that he wants to start a family and it throws you into turmoil. And that’s only made worse he meets five year old orphan Wren Briar and is determined to do whatever it takes to adopt her. Even if that means destroying your relationship.

Pairing - Spencer Reid x BAU Fem! Reader

Warnings - found family, very brief mention of past addiction and Maeve storyline, post prison arc, age gap between consenting adults (Spencer is late 30s and reader is mid 20s), typical CM case related stuff, child losing her parents, crying child, arguing, swearing.

WC - 8.3k

Part 1

If Spencer Reid were perfectly honest, he’d never wanted for much his entire life. He’d grown used to just accepting what came his way, never letting his expectations or hubris desire more than he was given.

Wanting for things only led to great disappointment. For example, wanting a mother who wasn’t sick and a father that didn’t walk out on them. Wanting to not have a drug addiction, or the weight of potentially developing schizophrenia.

He wanted to not have witnessed his first love being shot to death in front of him before he’d ever had a chance to hold her.

Maeve allowed Spencer for the first time in his life to want for something tangible. A relationship. A wife. A family. But that was snuffed out along with her life at the hands of Diane Turner’s bullet.

He’d always liked the idea of having a family, the idea of it almost like a guilty pleasure to the young genius. It seemed so far out of reach, out of the realms of the possible for someone like him to accomplish.

All he’d ever really wanted was somewhere to belong, something more than his mother could offer him; something deeper than the BAU could provide. Somewhere where he fit like a missing puzzle piece.

He’d always been an overachiever, never having much trouble reaching the goals he set for himself, but that seemed to be one ideal he would never make a reality.

He allowed himself the fleeting dream of having a family with Maeve but yet again it had been squandered, the flame of possibility extinguished before it really had a chance to burn.

He’d spent years watching Hotch with Jack and JJ with Henry and later Michael. He’d witnessed Kate and her niece and then the birth of her own baby. Even Morgan with Hank. And later came Matt with his array of children so large it didn’t seem fair.

As time drew on Spencer found himself growing more and more resentful towards his friends simply because they had achieved something he was sure he never would.

And time was ticking on for him, he was much closer to forty now, his thirties slipping away in the rear view mirror, soon to vanish entirely from his vision.

Perhaps it was his incarceration that put everything into perspective for him; maybe in some twisted way Cat had done him a favour by having him arrested. It was entirely plausible that if he hadn’t gone through that ordeal prior to the case that took place in Woodbridge, Virginia, just fifteen miles outside of Quantico, it may not have ended in the way that it had.

It was his first day back after thirty days off and admittedly he was grateful to be returning to the BAU. He loved teaching, loved imparting knowledge but it didn’t compare to the rush of fulfilment he got when he worked with his FBI family.

Because that’s what they were, right? Family, at least the closest thing to one Spencer really had. Of course he had his mom, his biological family, but what he had with the team was different.

In a strange way Emily and Rossi were like the parents, while Matt and Tara were like auntie and uncle and JJ, Garcia and Luke were his twisted siblings.

Which left you. You who’d joined the team around the same time as Matt not long after his release from prison. You who had slotted into the BAU family as if you’d been there all along.

You who he couldn’t look at like a sister the way he did JJ and Penelope without it being incredibly bizarre given how attracted to you he was.

You’d shined a light on Spencer’s dark existence, giving him hope for the first time since Maeve.

And maybe years ago he never would have even considered crossing that line with a coworker, maybe wouldn’t have even had the confidence to pursue you in the first place.

But a funny thing happened to Spencer while he was incarcerated. In having his walls completely and utterly torn down, leaving him as little more than a foundation, he was able to rebuild, recraft and manufacture a whole new facade.

This new appearance was more self assured, the walls he’d erected had locked his old insecurities out in the cold.

Less was the innocence he’d once possessed but instead replaced by assertiveness. He wouldn’t wait around for what he wanted and hope it would fall in his lap. He would go after it and grab it with both hands.

And that’s exactly what he did with you.

He’d told you in no uncertain terms that he thought you were beautiful and effervescent and that he wanted to take you for dinner. It wasn’t a question, he didn’t ask if you wanted to go to dinner, he told you that’s what was happening.

You’d found his confidence to be dizzying and electrifying, and also arousing. You hadn’t even stopped to consider the ramifications of going on a date with your colleague.

It had been the furthest thing from your mind after dinner, when Spencer kissed you outside of your apartment. You hadn’t given it a second thought when you invited him upstairs where you became privy to the true extent of Spencer’s dominance.

It had been several months of this and as far as you were aware the rest of the team was none the wiser.

Spencer lavished you with both expensive dates and also afterwards in the bedroom. He was a gentleman in the streets and a wild animal in the sheets.

But he wanted more from you than you were able to give, that much became apparent two days ago when you were lying in a post coital bliss and Spencer had mumbled absent mindedly, “I want to have a family.”

He was on the cusp of forty, it was understandable that he would be thinking of those things. But you were still young, close to fifteen years his junior and a family was the last thing you were thinking about.

What had ensued had been a painfully awkward conversation which you would have rather had with more clothes on. A resolution hadn’t been reached, the discussion simply ended when Spencer told you he needed time to think and proceeded to leave your apartment.

And you hadn’t spoken in two days.

With all of it whirring around in your brain you had completely forgotten Spencer was due back today and so when he strolled into the round table room, ten minutes later than everyone else and not apologising for that fact, you tried to hide your surprise by staring at the tablet in front of you.

He took the last remaining seat between you and Luke and flipped open the case file leisurely.

“Nice of you to join us, Reid.” Emily rolled her eyes as she spoke.

“Hmm.” He didn’t look up. “What did I miss?”

“Uh, well, as I was saying,” Garcia shook off his slightly abrupt tone and continued her presentation. “Mister and Mrs Briar are the second couple to be killed in their home Woodbridge, both shot in the head, point blank. A week ago, Mister and Mrs Logan also met the same grizzly fate.”

“And the police think they are connected? Doesn’t seem like a very specific MO.” Rossi frowned, sitting back in his chair.

“There is one piece of information that ties the two families.” Garcia clicked a button on her remote, casting away the crime scene photos in lieu of two pictures of two little girls. “Both the Logan’s and the Briar’s had a daughter who witnessed the whole sorry thing but were gratefully left alive.”

Spencer skim read the file in front of him before looking up at the screen and the images of the two kids who had gone through something no child should have to.

His eyes gravitated to the photograph on the left of a little girl with rosy cheeks and a bright smile. She had curly dark hair and expressive green eyes and Spencer felt as though she was looking right at him, maybe even through him.

“This is six year old Freya Logan,” Garcia pointed at the blonde girl on the right. “And five year old Wren Briar.”

Wren, cute, he thought.

“Woodbridge is nearby, so we’ll work the case from here.” Emily pushed herself to her feet. “Y/N, Tara and I will go to the county police department and speak to the sheriff. Luke, Matt go to the latest crime scene. Garcia I need you to find the kids and get them brought in, they may have seen something that could be of help. The rest of you start digging.”

Everyone nodded in agreement and started off on their separate ways. Emily mouthed to you and Tara to give her a minute before she left the room.

Spencer left soon after and without meaning to you found yourself on your feet and following him.

You trailed him to the kitchen when he grabbed his mug and started up the coffee machine. He had his back to you when you entered behind him but somehow he knew you were there.

“Why were you late? You’re never late.” Your voice was so unsure, like you weren’t even certain you were allowed to speak to him.

He turned slowly, leaning his back against the counter as he regarded you with his gaze.

“I overslept.” He shrugged.

“You never oversleep.”

“Yeah because I usually get a decent night's rest. But for two nights I’ve been tossing and turning and when I do actually sleep, it’s fretful at best.” His tone was something akin to frustration, frustration that was clearly directed at you.

“You can’t just drop a bombshell like that and walk off. I haven’t been sleeping either, Spencer.” You lowered your tone to a whisper in case any prying ears were around.

“I didn’t realise wanting a family with my girlfriend would be such a bombshell.” He folded his arms across his chest, not being quiet with his words the way you were. At least the coffee percolating helped to mask his voice.

“I didn’t even know I was your girlfriend! We’ve never once talked about what we were, let alone having a family. We’ve been dating for a few months, I’m not sure I understand when this got so serious.” You mirrored him and folded your arms too.

“Relationships are only ever going to end one of two ways, Y/N. They either eventually run their course or you spend the rest of your life together. I was just letting you know my intentions.”

“Spencer, I’m still young. Marriage and kids is not something I’m thinking about right now.”

“Well that's all I think about. And if you don’t want that then there really is no point in us being together. I’m not wasting my time with someone who doesn’t want the same things as me.”

The coffee machine clicked, its sounds starting to fade out. Spencer turned his back on you and shoved his mug under the machine and hit a button.

“That’s what this is to you? A waste of time?” You let your arms fall to your sides, feeling the weight of his words crash down on you like a tidal wave.

“You tell me.” He shrugged, not looking back at you. “I’ve made my intentions clear, Y/N. It’s up to you what you want out of this. And if it isn’t a family, then I guess yeah, it was a waste of time.”

You opened your mouth to speak but closed it again quickly. You repeated this several times as Spencer turned with his mug of coffee in hand. He strolled past you without so much as a glance and you dumbly watched him go.

You couldn’t even go after him if you tried as soon Emily found you and motioned for you to follow her and Tara towards the elevators.

***

“She won’t talk to me,” JJ sighed exhaustedly, running a hand through her hair as she looked between Spencer and Rossi. “She keeps asking for her daddy. I think she’d be more open with a male.”

The three of them stood in the corridor outside of the small disused office where Wren Briar and a woman from social services were situated. Her eyes stopped their back and forth and landed on Rossi.

“Don’t look at me.” Rossi scoffed. “I’m old enough to be her grandpa.”

JJ pulled a face that told him she agreed before turning to Spencer.

“You are around her dad’s age.” JJ gave him a shrug. “And you’re great with Henry and Michael.”

“And Jack. And Hank.” Rossi added.

“Boys,” Spencer shook his head. “They are all boys. I have no idea what to say to a little girl. A little girl whose parents have just been murdered no less.”

“Spence, you’re great with kids. I think she would really open up to you.” JJ was pleading with him with both her voice and her eyes. Spencer always did have a hard time saying no to her.

He glanced passed JJ through the window and on the side of the five year old’s face. Since he’d seen her photograph this morning he had felt a strange emotion bubbling in his chest which he couldn’t quite place.

Maybe protectiveness? Did he feel the need to safeguard this little girl from harm? And if so, why?

He’d had dealings with hundreds if not thousands of kids in his years at the BAU and never felt like this before. He wanted to cushion her, wrap her in bubble wrap and take away all of her pain.

But he didn’t understand why.

He looked back at JJ and sighed louder than necessary to convey he wasn’t pleased about this.

“Fine, but you owe me.” He rolled his eyes, stepping further forward and taking a deep breath before entering the room.

Her astute green eyes snapped up as the door opened, little eyebrows knitted together as she took in the man walking towards her. She seemed wiser than her years, the way she seemed to be curiously regarding him, sizing him up and assessing his threat level.

Spencer offered the social worker a smile before focusing back on Wren. He crouched down when he reached where she was sitting on the couch so he was her height.

She clutched a stuffed toy to her chest which appeared to be some sort of dog, maybe a cow, maybe even a panda. It was a dirty off white with splodges of black and long tatty ears. It was slightly ragged and threadbare and clearly a favourite with this little girl.

“Hi,” he spoke softly, calmingly. “My name is Spencer, can you tell me your name?”

Of course he already knew it but he needed an excuse to get her talking.

“Wren,” she sucked in a breath. “Like the bird.”

“Wow, that’s such a pretty name.” His smile grew of its own accord. “You wanna know something cool?”

She rolled her thin bottom lip between her teeth thoughtfully before nodding her head, her nearly black curls bouncing around her face.

“Y-yes.” She whispered.

“Wren’s eat spiders and insects that they find while hopping along the ground.” He wiggled his long, slender fingers towards her and to his surprise and delight Wren started to giggle.

“Eww!” she shook her head frantically. “I don’t want to eat spiders!”

“I’m afraid with a name like that, you might have to.” Spencer laughed, her innocent giggle sending shockwaves through his whole body.

It melted him from the inside out, as if he were made of chocolate and her laugh was a hot flame. He wanted a child more than anything in the entire world and it was killing him not to have one.

“Noooo!” She shook her head so frantically it was a wonder she didn’t make herself dizzy.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Spencer lowered his voice, leaning in a little closer to Wren. “If you can help me find out what happened to your mommy and daddy, I promise no one will ever make you eat a spider.”

She pouted dramatically, her lip jutting out so severely it looked almost painful. She loosened her grip on the stuffed dog-cow-panda, patting its scruffy head before gripping its ears in her little fingers.

“This is Rover,” she turned him so Spencer could see his face and confirmed it was in fact a dog.

“Hi Rover, I’m Spencer. Do you eat spiders?” He cautiously took hold of one of the dogs paws and shook it.

“Eww!” Wren giggled again, wrapping her arms tightly around the dog again and wrinkling her tiny nose. “Dog’s don’t eat spiders.”

He wasn’t going to argue with the little girl that given half the chance most dogs probably would eat spiders. Instead he nodded in agreement.

“You’re right, I'm sorry Rover.” He half-smiled at the stuffed dog. “Did Rover see what happened to your mommy and daddy?”

Wren once again held the dog tighter, nodding sadly as her eyes downturned.

“The man made us go into the closet. I closed my eyes but Rover saw everything.” A tear trickled from her large green eye and Spencer couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and gently brushing it away.

She didn’t shy away from him, didn’t even flinch. And when he moved his hand away she grabbed one of his fingers in her own petite little hand.

Her fingers wrapped so tightly around the digit, her fear evident in the small gesture. Her eyes were filled with tears making her already bright irises even more vivid. She looked Spencer in the eyes, keeping a firm grip on his finger.

“He shot them. He killed them. My mommy and daddy are dead.” And with that a damn broke and her tears cascaded down her rosy cheeks.

She let go of Spencer’s finger and fell into his arms where he knelt on the ground, nuzzling her little face against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. Tentatively he wrapped the girl in his arms, stroking back her raven head of curls and cooing to her that it would be ok.

His eyes glanced up towards the window in the door where JJ and Rossi were staring right at him. Wren blew her nose on his tie and he shrugged lightly at his coworkers.

“Damn, he’s good.” Rossi spoke on the other side of the door.

“You expected anything less?” JJ smiled wistfully.

***

When you returned to the BAU later that afternoon with Emily and Tara you were surprised to find the rest of the team, Garcia included, swarmed around Derek Morgan’s old office.

The three of you approached curiously as the other members gathered around the lone window, clearly staring at something inside.

“Uh, do we not have a case to be working?” Emily’s voice garnered the attention of the five other agents who spun to face her guiltily.

You and Tara looked between their faces while they clearly decided who was going to be the one to answer.

“You need to see this.” Luke spoke with amusement ripe in his voice.

They parted like the Red Sea to allow the three of you to get to the window. You, Tara and Emily slowly stepped closer until the room beyond was in view.

On the couch sat Spencer, head forward to his chest and eyes closed tightly. In his lap was a head of dark curls equally as unruly as his own, and a small body curled up next to him, clutching a stuffed toy. Both appeared to be sleeping, Spencer’s limp hand resting on the girl's shoulder.

“That’s the Briar’s daughter.” JJ filled you all in. “Spence is the only one she would open up to.”

“The social worker got called away and he said he’d stay with her. How long they’ve been like this is anybody's guess.” Rossi added.

“Isn’t it the most precious thing you’ve ever seen?” Penelope gasped happily.

She wasn’t wrong. It was utterly adorable. And it warmed your heart and froze it in equal measure. Spencer looked so at home with the little girl, it was only then it occurred to you what an amazing dad he would be. But it wasn’t what you wanted. You weren’t ready for a family, for a child, not like he was.

You took a few steps back from the window, feeling your heart ripping apart in your chest. You were crazy about Spencer, you weren’t ready for your relationship to come to an end. But if this was how he saw his future, you weren’t sure you could be a part of that.

No one seemed to notice you slip away, too busy watching the man and child sleep peacefully.

***

Wren took a shine to Spencer in the way no one ever had before. Sure he was good with kids, but with her he didn’t even seem to need to try.

Over the next few days he learnt that she was incredibly smart, smarter than any five year old he’d ever met before. He wondered if her parents ever had her IQ checked because he would be willing to bet she was gifted.

She was inquisitive, curious about the world around her. At her instance he’d told her more facts about her namesake, moving onto other facts about other animals and then just facts in general.

She hung off of his every word, asking questions if she didn’t understand and probing for more knowledge.

She was gentle and kind and even despite the trauma Spencer could tell she was a happy kid. He was sure if anyone could bounce back from an ordeal of this magnitude it was her. Wren was resilient.

And the more time Spencer spent with her, the more time he wanted to spend with her.

She liked it when he read to her so he went out and brought a ton of her favourite books and would sit in Morgan’s old office and he would read.

He brought his chess set in, thinking her curious mind would enjoy the challenge. She did. A lot. Even if she struggled to grasp the game, she was only five after all.

But his heart swelled every single time she cautiously lifted a piece, looked up at him with her electric eyes and whispered, “can I move this thing over here?”

He adored the little names she gave the pieces and stopped correcting her after a while. He preferred her names for them anyway. The prawn. The horsy. The pointy head. The pretty Queen and the brave King.

She also loved cartoons so after a quick lesson from Garcia on how to operate a tablet and download Netflix, he would sit with Wren and let her watch her favourites on the device while she rested her head on his shoulder.

He held her when she got sad and missed her mom and dad. He let her shed her tears against his shirt and blow her nose on as many of his ties as she needed.

He had learnt long ago not to want for anything in life but he couldn’t help himself. This small child had in the space of a few days completely wormed her way into his heart and he never wanted to see a day where she wasn’t a part of his life.

One more couple met the same fate as the Logan’s and Briar’s before they caught the guy responsible three days later.

Wren clung to him as the social worker tried to get her to leave, small arms wrapped around his waist while she sobbed into his side and begged Spencer not to let her take her away.

“Spencer, don't make me go!” She sobbed and screamed at the top of her little lungs. “I don’t want to leave you!”

“Hey now,” he whispered, crouching down to her height and wiping her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “It won’t be forever ok? I just need to talk to Miss Carol real quick ok?”

“I heard her talking on the phone, they want to take me away from you.” Her little lip quivered and it shattered his heart.

“Wren, I promise you I will not let that happen ok? You just have to be brave for me and go with JJ for a moment. Can you do that?” He tucked her messy hair behind her ears.

Wren looked up with watery eyes at JJ who was smiling at her from behind Spencer.

“You like books right, Wren?” JJ held out her hand. “I can read to you. Time will fly by.”

Wren sniffled and looked back at Spencer who was trying to smile encouragingly at her. She suddenly flung her arms around Spencer’s neck and held him tightly as if he were her stuffed dog. He held her too, praying to gods he didn’t believe in that it wouldn’t be the last time.

When she let go she reluctantly took hold of JJ’s hand so Spencer could be left alone with Carol, Wren’s social worker.

Once JJ left the room with Wren, Spencer stuffed his hands in his pockets as he looked at Carol.

“What’s going to happen to her?” He scuffed his toe on the worn carpet.

“She doesn’t have any living relatives.” Carol shrugged.

“So she goes into the system?” Spencer felt his heart plummet.

“I’m afraid so.”

“She’s been through enough.” Spencer swallowed, his eyebrows furrowed deeply.

“Unfortunately that’s kind of a prerequisite for foster kids.” Carol sighed.

“What, uh…what if I could take her?” His words surprised even himself despite the fact it wasn’t the first time he’d considered it. He’d been thinking about it pretty much non stop since he met Wren, but this was his first time saying it out loud. “I know I can’t just take her now, I did the research.”

“You did?” Carol frowned curiously at him.

“Last night.” He nodded. “I mean I’m an FBI agent so presumably the background checks and stuff would be easy and I know I would need to buy a bigger place with a second bedroom but I started looking at places near Woodbridge, so Wren could still be near her friends and go to school.

I know there are applications and home studies that would need to be done and I know it’s arduous and expensive but I don’t care. I know it takes time but I can wait. I can wait if it means at the end of it all she’ll get to come home with me. I’d even quit the BAU so I could be home more often. I teach in my spare time at the university, much more stable hours, no travel. I am willing to do whatever it takes.” He was rambling and he knew it but he couldn’t stop.

Carol listened intently, taking in his every word and looking at him curiously.

“Doctor Reid,” she sighed a little. “I’m not sure all of that would be necessary simply to foster.”

Spencer suddenly frowned at her, not angry necessarily but frustrated that she misunderstood his intentions.

He cleared his throat, stepped forward and removed his hands from his pockets. He straightened his back and looked Carol dead in the eyes. He needed her to know how serious he was about what he was about to say.

“I’m not talking about fostering.” He shook his head. “I want to adopt her. I want to be her father.”

***

As it turned out, adopting a child was even more hard work than Spencer ever anticipated.

That night after his talk with Carol and after promising Wren several hundred times he would see her again really soon, he went home and delved deeper into the ins and outs of this particular venture.

The easy part was the fact she’d been orphaned and there were no relatives to have to give over parental rights. That was where the simplicity started and ended.

Adopting a child could take anywhere from six to eighteen months. Not to mention the fact it could cost him anywhere up to forty thousand dollars.

He’d need a bigger home, that much he already knew and a job with more stable hours which was easy enough to achieve.

He would have to fill out applications, go through home studies and up to thirty hours worth of parental training. He’d need health exams, proof of income, references from several people close to him.

All relatively achievable.

But he would also have to undergo a criminal background check. Although he had been cleared of all charges, his time in prison hadn’t been expunged despite Emily’s attempts. He would have to explain that he spent three months in a federal facility for a murder he didn’t commit.

Also there was the very real possibility that being a single male would hinder his chances of adoption. From what he’d read it shouldn’t be used to discriminate against him, but it certainly wouldn’t be in his favour.

If the state thought they could place Wren with a family with two parents instead of one, they were more likely to do that than allow a single man in his late thirties to adopt her.

If there was ever a time for him not to want for something desperately, with his entire heart, it was now. But for the life of him he couldn’t stop himself.

But the most important thing he needed to do was talk to Wren.

She might have enjoyed spending time with him, it might have helped take her mind off of watching her parents die, but that wasn’t to say she wanted to live with him. He needed to stop getting ahead of himself.

He took a personal day from work and drove out to the halfway house she’d been placed in for the time being. If everything went to plan she wouldn’t have to be here too long.

The second she saw him her entire face lit up, not just her dazzling green eyes. A huge smile plastered on her tiny face and she ran at full pelt towards him.

Her wild mane of dark curls was tied back into a ponytail and flew behind her with her speed. When she reached him, Wren threw her arms around Spencer’s waist and squeezed him as tightly as her little body would allow.

“Spencer!” She snuggled against him while he in turn enveloped her in a tight embrace. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, pumpkin.” It was true, he had and it had only been one night.

She let go of him before taking him by the hand and marching them both over to a nearby couch. She plopped down on it, he now noticed she had Rover dangling from one hand.

Spencer sat next to her and she shuffled close to him, as though being near him offered her some kind of protection.

“I don’t like it here.” She whined a little, choking the stuffed neck of her dog in tiny hands.

“It'll only be for the short term.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “But you do understand that you can’t go home, don’t you Wren?”

Her bottom lip pouted in that over dramatic way he’d grown used to. Tears sprung to her eyes as she nodded her head.

“I miss my mommy and daddy.” She sniffled.

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she rested her head on his rib cage.

“I don’t want to live here forever.” She whimpered.

“And you won’t.” He squeezed her gently. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

She raised her head so she could look at him, those large, emerald eyes seeing right through to his soul.

“How would you…do you think you might…” he trailed off, words failing him. “I was thinking, if you’d like to, maybe you could come and live with me.”

She blinked several times at him, watching, reading him. It was sometimes hard to believe she was only five years old.

“I can do that?” One of her little eyebrows raised curiously.

“If you’d like to. Only if you’d like to. But I would love to have you live with me, Wren. Have you heard of adoption?” He tucked another stray strand behind her ear.

“No.” She shook her head.

“That’s ok, I can explain it to you.” He smiled softly. “So when a child like you, loses their parents, they need somewhere to go. At the moment you’re in foster care which is temporary. There are foster families you can stay with but it won’t be like your real home. You might get moved around between different families from time to time.

Adoption is permanent and that’s what I would like. If I were to adopt you I would become your legal guardian…your dad I suppose. You’d live with me at least until you turn eighteen, maybe longer if that’s what you wanted. You’d have a home for as long as you needed one, a family with me. It isn’t an easy process but one I would very much like to go through if that’s what you want.”

Again the girl blinked him, probably only really understanding half of what he was saying.

“I had a dad. He died.” She frowned.

“I know, and I’m not…you don’t have to call me dad. I’m not trying to replace your dad. But I would be responsible for you.”

“Would I have a new mom too?” Her frown deepened.

“Uh, no. No mom, just me.” He shrugged. “Look Wren, I think you are a wonderful little girl and I would be absolutely honoured to be your adoptive dad. But I want what’s best for you and if you don’t want that then-”

“Can we play chess if I live with you?” She cut him off.

“As often as you’d like.” He smiled.

“And will you read me bedtime stories?”

“Every single night.” His smile grew.

“Can I have a My Little Pony bedspread?” She started smiling too.

“I don’t see why not.”

“What about Rover?” She suddenly gasped, clutching the small dog tightly.

“What about him?” Spencer frowned.

“Where will he live? I can’t go without him!” She was suddenly beside herself with panic and Spencer couldn��t help but chuckle.

“It’s a good job I’ve got room for him too then, isn’t it?”

Her eyes lit up again and sparkled in that innocent way that fed Spencer’s soul. Her lip twitched at the corner.

“Really?” She bounced a little in the chair.

“Really.” He felt tears gathering behind his eyes.

“Ok!” Wren nodded. “I think we would like that.”

Spencer wanted to collapse into tears at those words. If Wren wanted to live with him he would do everything in his power to make that happen.

He knew as he looked at her sparkling eyes and tiny pure smile, he would go to the ends of the earth for this little girl.

He already loved her with his entire being. And no matter what the adoption process threw at him, he would make it through. He would do it for her.

***

When he handed his letter of resignation to Emily a week later and explained his reasons for leaving, she’d quite rightly been shocked.

But she’d also been incredibly encouraging of his newfound love of an orphaned little girl.

He glowed when he spoke about her, happier than she’d seen him in such a long time. And although she hated to lose him from the team, she knew it was for the greater good.

The next step was a new home, a family home, one big enough for him and Wren. Between looking at houses and starting to pack up his own apartment, he hired an attorney to aid him in his adoption battle.

Although it was the more expensive route, Spencer decided to go down the path of independent adoption. It would mean he would have to do the work an agency would normally do but he always had been a control freak. And he was far more invested in the outcome and would therefore work harder to get Wren home.

He visited her every day. He took books and his chess set and they spent hours together in the halfway home. He showed her pictures of the houses he’d seen and asked her what she thought.

One in particular was a cute three bedroom suburban home with a canary yellow picket fence and a green front door. Her little eyes had sparkled when she looked at it and she jabbed her finger at the printout.

“I want to live here.” She got a little shy as she vocalised it.

He wondered if it was because she knew.

The house in question was less than a block from the home she’d witnessed the death of her parents in. She probably walked it past it frequently.

He wasn’t sure that living so close to a place that held so many bad memories for her would be a good idea, but he also thought it might allow her to feel close to the family she’d lost.

“Really?” He asked tentatively. “Do you know where it is?”

He nodded defiantly.

“Near mommy and daddy’s house.”

“And you want to live near their house? Won’t it make you sad?”

“I'm always sad.” She confessed, pouting her lip drastically. “Except when you’re here.”

His heart doubled in size, practically leaped right out of his chest. God he didn’t think it was possible to love her anymore than he already did but she kept proving him wrong.

“You mean that?” He smiled, tears brimming in his eyes.

“Yes.” She nodded again. “You make the bad go away.”

His emotions betrayed him and a few tears fell from his eyes causing Wren to gasp.

“Oh no! Why are you sad, Spencer?” She grabbed one of his fingers in her hand and squeezed it.

“I'm not sad.” He smiled. “These are happy tears. I’m just…I’m just so happy I met you. I wish I could make everything better for you, I wish I could bring your mommy and daddy back, I do. But I promise you, as long as I’m alive, you have a family ok?”

With her free hand she reached for Spencer’s cheek and brushed his tears the same way he did to her. Her little fingers were soft and a little damp.

“I miss my mommy and daddy all the time.” She whispered as though it was a secret. “But I think they would be happy that you want to be my new family.”

God she was so smart. Way smarter than her years. He really would need to have her IQ tested.

“I hope so, pumpkin.”

“Why do you call me pumpkin?” She sat back, looking at him curiously.

“Because I love Halloween.” And I love you.

“I love Halloween!” She clapped her hands together. “Can we go trick or treating?”

Spencer chuckled, yet again tucking her rogue hair behind her ears and off of her little rosy face.

“We can on Halloween. But right now it’s March, we have a few months before October.”

“But can we go trick or treating on Halloween?”

“Of course, pumpkin.”

Seven months. He had seven months until Halloween. Seven months to bring her home.

He hoped he wasn’t making promises he couldn’t keep. The last thing this little girl needed was more disappointment. The last thing he needed was more disappointment.

After that he spent the next hour watching Wren draw pumpkins and witches and ghosts in crayon while he told her facts about Halloween.

He left with a picture she’d drawn for him.

It was of the house with a canary yellow fence and green front door. In front of the house was Wren and Rover who was drawn wildly out of proportion.

And then there was a tall, slim man with crazy curls holding Wren’s hand.

In the bottom corner she’d scrawled in her childlike handwriting: my new family.

***

That same day Spencer called his realtor and made an offer on the house in Virginia whilst putting his own apartment up for sale.

He knew buying a house took time but it was time he didn’t have. He’d sent off his adoption applications and the background checks were in full swing but without the house he couldn’t start his home studies which at minimum took three months.

At least once the background checks were out of the way he would be able to take Wren out of the halfway home for a few hours at a time, supervised by a social worker of course but it was better than nothing.

He was prepared for the questions about his incarceration and had already discussed as such with his attorney. He had transcripts from his therapist who had cleared him for duty, citing him mentally sound.

He had Emily write a letter explaining the whole situation, how he was framed and all the gory details surrounding the case and the proof of his innocence.

He also had letters regarding his character from people who knew him well and could vouch for the fact he would be a great dad. One being from BAU co-founder David Rossi, a name that garnered respect everywhere he went.

And in the capacity as a mother, Jennifer Jareau who talked at great lengths about how Spencer was the worlds greatest godfather to her boys and how amazing he was with them.

Emily, Rossi and JJ were three great people to have on his side.

He’d done everything he could for the time being and for the most part it was now just a painful waiting game.

His house sale and purchase seemed to be moving smoothly so in his free time when he wasn’t teaching and he wasn’t with Wren, he continued packing up his apartment so he would be ready to get into his new house the second the sale was finalised.

His apartment was mostly boxes these days, sad, taunting boxes filled with his possessions while he waited for the phone to ring.

On his last visit to see Wren she’d told him exactly how she would like her new bedroom so some boxes contained flat pack furniture and paint cans.

She wanted her walls to be orange and when he’d frowned and asked her why she simply replied, “because pumpkins.”

He couldn’t very well argue with that.

He managed to talk her down from a bright and garish orange to more of a burnt autumnal colour. She picked out her bed along with a My Little Pony bedspread, and wardrobes from magazines Spencer had shown her and he’d purchased strings of pumpkin shaped fairy lights.

At her insistence, he’d also brought a dog bed for Rover.

He may be jumping the gun, wasting his money on such things when he still had a long road ahead of him before he’d be able to take her home.

And there was also the very real possibility he may never be able to take her home.

Honestly, Spencer couldn’t let himself think of that. If he let himself consider that outcome he would crumble.

In such a short space of time Wren had become his entire world and he couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t lose her.

He was packing up the last of his books when there was a knock at his apartment door.

He spun to look at it, boxes piled so high it was like a labyrinth just to get to it. He frowned, mentally trying to ascertain a path but coming up empty.

“Uh, who is it?” He called, trying to clamber closer.

A stretch of silence met his ears and in the meantime he stumbled over a box and narrowly avoided landing head first in another.

“It’s Y/N.” You spoke eventually, sounding exhausted.

He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. In all the stress surrounding him, he hadn’t given you a second thought.

Fuck, I messed up.

“Uh the door should be unlocked.” He called back and a moment or two later it opened.

You took a step inside, eyes quickly scanning the disarray in the room before finding Spencer’s face, poking out from between two piles of boxes.

“Marco,” he joked but you didn’t laugh.

“Were you ever going to tell me you quit the BAU?” You folded your arms over your chest, staying put by the front door. “And moving by the looks of things. Was I going to be the last person to find that out too?”

“I’m so sorry.” He shrugged meekly, knowing he owed you more than a simple apology. “Everything is happening so fast. I needed to move quickly, the faster I get things sorted the faster she can come home with me.”

Your frown deepened and he could see the confusion rolling off of you in waves.

“What are you talking about? Who’s coming home with you?”

He inhaled sharply, exhaled heavily. Of course Emily, Rossi and JJ knew of his adoption plans but he had asked them not to tell the rest of the team. If it didn’t work out he didn’t want them to be privy to his failure.

But truthfully he expected them to spill the beans. He knew you’d all have a lot of questions regarding his sudden departure from the team and thought at least one of you would get it out of them. It appeared not.

“Well, uh, I’m in the process of trying to adopt a little girl.” He shrugged and braced himself for your reaction.

Your arms fell to your sides and your eyes doubled in size as you glared at him as though he’d told you he was going on a killing spree and not that he was adopting a kid.

He supposed both would be equally concerning.

“I’m sure I didn’t hear you right.”

“No, you did.” He tried to step closer to you but he seemed to have boxed himself into a corner quite literally. “You remember the couples that were killed in Virginia? I kinda bonded with one of the kids. Wren. Wren Briar. She’s in a foster facility at the moment but I’m working on adopting her.”

Somehow the more he explained the less you understood.

“Are you serious?” You scoffed.

“Very.”

“Jesus Christ, Spencer.” You shook your head in disbelief. “You bonded with a kid on a case and now you want to bring her home? Play happy families with a child who lost her parents?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I want to do.” He tried to shuffle between the piles of boxes but was once again thwarted.

“Do you realise how insane that sounds?” Your tone was incredulous.

“Why does that sound insane? She needs a family and I’ve always wanted one.” He frowned at you.

Of course he understood why you may be concerned but he hadn’t expected this reaction.

“So you meet someone, you get married. And when the time is right you start a family.”

“I have tried that! I’ve tried it the “normal” way and that’s never worked out for me. I am thirty nine years old, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” He was growing angry.

“So you’re just skipping to the end? Spencer this is not how you dreamed of having a kid!”

“No, you’re right, it’s not!” He suddenly raised his voice, shoving over a pile of boxes in his way so he could get closer to you. “I dreamed of having kids with Maeve and then she was killed in front of me. Then I dared to dream of having a family with you but you shot that idea right down. It’s not ideal, I am aware of that. But goddammit I love that little girl and I will give her a home. I will be her family and she will be mine.”

“Spencer,” you softened, his eyes wild and scaring you a little. “She’s what, five? She’s already on her way to becoming a fully realised human being. Her personality is already formed, she’s had five years of life where you weren’t a part of it and you just expect her to fall seamlessly into the role of your daughter? Have you ever even considered how hard it’s going to be for her? She lost her parents, they are dead. You really think you can just swoop in and pretend to be her father when she watched her real dad die?”

“Get out.” He spat harshly. “Get the fuck out of my home.”

“Spencer I-”

“No, don’t. If you’re not going to be helpful then you can leave.”

You shook your head in sadness at him, sighing deeply.

“I might not be ready for a family right at this second but I didn’t once say I wouldn’t want one someday. But you’re so determined to rush this, to skip to the happy ending. We could have had that one day.”

“That’s not good enough for me.” He finally lowered his voice. “I’m in love with you Y/N, I know I’ve never said that before but I am. And I don’t want to wait to start a family because I love you. But if we don’t want the same things then we have no future. I’m adopting Wren, no matter what it takes and if you can’t be happy for me then walk away.”

And without another word, that’s exactly what you did. You walked away.

In another scenario, maybe even in another life you would have told him that you loved him too.

Instead you simply walked away.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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chaoticbardlady99 · 4 months

Text

She’s My Religion- Part 4: Makes You Believe in Something Above (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- Shadowheart, Isobel, Halsin, and Dame Aylin work to heal you. No one is certain you’ll willingly come back from the land of the Dead. Astarion begs for you to come back to him and he wants to spend forever with you.

CW: mentions of gore, violent themes, mentions of SA, mentions of attempted SA, mentions of grief

*not my pic* reach out if it is yours so I can give you credit!

This is barely edited- my mental health has been ❤️🙈✨horrific ✨🙈❤️

The last thing you remember was hearing Astarion screaming and crying- it broke your heart to hear his painful transformation.

Giving up has been the easiest feeling in the whole world- you didn’t know if you were dreaming or in the Heavens, but being embraced by your mother and father as you let the warm glow of their love sink into your non-existent bones, you didn’t know if you cared.

Your father was still your father and your mother was your mother again. They were both still madly in love with one another, but they miss you terribly.

You asked if you were temporarily here. Your mother smiled and said, “only for now, my Heart.”

You broke down in front of both of them- told them your fears and how scared you are to return to Astarion. You don’t want to be forced into vampirism and you certainly don’t want to be a consort.

Your parents told you that fate is a fickle thing and it’s better to embrace it than run from it- they won’t allow you to give up.

You were so angry- they let you be. You lit fires in the Heavenly grass and you screamed until you couldn’t scream anymore. Both of your parents held you as you sobbed- telling you that you’ll be okay.

After, you decided you weren’t going to squander your last little bit of freedom and time with your parents for Gods knows how long. You will not continue being angry over something you have no control over. You will figure it out- you will be okay.

You laughed, cried, hugged, and talked together for what was probably seconds in the mortal world, but hours in this beautiful space.

Your soul feels broken and healed all at the same time when your consciousness hits you like a wagon and you are still in the Szarr palace. Except you aren’t lying on the ground anymore (you think); the air smells of Astarion and the aroma is intoxicating. At least he still smells the same, but you thought you would be far more blood thirsty for waking up as a Spawn and that Astarion would be a lot less hysterical.

Your body hurts- being only halfway between death and life is a painful balance. All of your muscles are taught, but also loose and heavy at the same time. Your skin is numb, but also still stings with every single mark Cazador had cut into you.

Astarion is holding you up against him while Shadowheart is working to heal you and Gale finishes reading the Revivify Scroll. Astarion’s silent tears are falling into your hair and trailing down your face.

“Don’t leave me here alone,” he whispers pleadingly for only your ears to hear, “I didn’t do it- I didn’t Ascend. You were right- you were right the whole time. I dislike you for it, but it’s true.”

You hear him take a shaky, choked breath- your body still not quite awake enough to show any sign of real change in your condition.

You are in complete shock. He didn’t Ascend? It is all he had been talking about for the last three weeks! It’s what he had wanted so why didn’t he do it.

“I’m so so sorry, my Love, ” he continues to beg quietly, “I want you to come back. I need you to come back to me. I don’t want to be in this world without you.”

He pauses for a second and gently kisses your cheek- exhaling unevenly.

“And then have you beat the shit out of me when I decide to come join you because ‘that absolutely is not what I wanted you to do!’”

His soft impression of you, the broken laugh, and the words themselves make your heart feel like it’s going to shatter. You are fighting to make your breaths more noticeable or move your arm- something to tell Astarion I’m here! I didn’t leave you! You aren’t connected enough to your body right now to use the tadpole so that’s not even an option.

Your body is still so weak- Shadowheart is struggling to find out which poison it is and then you hear the voice of Isobel and the sound of Karlach’s clunky armor in the air as Isobel begins to talk to Shadowheart and Halsin about what they have done so far- what has worked? What hasn’t? How long have you been down? Do you have a reason to refuse to come back?

Everyone responds with a resounding no, but you hear Astarion interject.

“Yes,” Astarion’s voice cracks, “she does have a reason to refuse to come back.

“She didn’t want me to Ascend,” he says solemnly, “and we fought about it and I told her it was over. I was coming back to talk to her about it- try to make her see the reasons I needed to Ascend. To try to explain to her that I was doing it for her too.

“I never would have thought Cazador would hurt her like this. He was always so protective,” he manages to choke out after a long pause, “she’s lost her whole family and now she thinks her life is at risk because of me and my obsession with power. Why would she want to come back?”

“Fangs…”

“No,” he screams, the sound echoing through your body, “don’t try to tell me how much she loves me, how she wouldn’t just leave me! I broke her heart. Tav’s family is dead, gone, no more. It’s not even guaranteed some of us will still be alive at the end of this thing and if I thought my best bet of being free was dying because I thought my EX-boyfriend became a power hungry Demi-God Vampire Hybrid- I WOULD CHOOSE STAYING DEAD TOO!”

At least he gets it, but it’s not his fault though. You had made a conscious decision and you knew it was likely you wouldn’t come back. You had been so certain that you had done the right thing this time- you let him go to be what he wanted to be and to find a consort that better suited what he wanted out of life. You were going to be Tadpole free and happily reunited with the people you care for.

You are hoping that he doesn’t resent you- what if you forced him to make a decision? Did he go into your mind? Was he aware that you had chosen to give up and Gods you hope that isn’t the reason he chose not to Ascend because you could not live with yourself if your selfish decision made him deny himself what he wants.

As you try to connect to your tadpole again, you hear Isobel ask for your arm and then feel her stab you with a needle before the world goes dark.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion clings to you in your shared bed as you sleep peacefully in his arms. Isobel had told everyone she had figured out it was Topor- how? Astarion had no damn clue, but you began to look better immediately after she gave you the injection and you’ve been sleeping since.

Astarion had been worried about you sleeping for so long- Isobel, Shadowheart, Halsin and Gale had to come together to convince him that you are entirely okay, but your body had just been through significant trauma- emotionally, mentally, and physically.

Dalyria told him that Cazador had attempted to force himself on you, but you fought him so hard and for so long (even going as far as escaping for a brief moment) that Cazador gave up- resigning to waiting until you were a compliant spawn. So he gave you the Topor to kick start your agonizingly slow and painful death. Isobel said you maybe only had about an hour and a half left when she had arrived- praising Karlach for getting to her so quickly.

Astarion had actually hugged the tiefling (and for a very long time too) after Dame Aylin took you away to help Isobel clean up and stitch your deeper wounds before attempting to heal them. Karlach had been thrilled, but she also told Astarion that she is really proud of him for not ascending and for releasing the spawn into the Underdark. Oh and no hard feelings for the outburst.

Actually- that had been everyone’s words to him today. No one wanted him to Ascend and maybe he would have been miffed prior to today, but Astarion has finally discovered what all those writers have been saying- love and companionship are the most powerful forces across the planes. Astarion could never have killed Cazador or saved you if he hadn’t met any of his companions.

Everyone wanted to know what changed and he would just shrug- said it didn’t feel right. The actual reason is far more private.

Astarion didn’t change his mind because you had ultimately given up- he knew Ascending meant he could bring you back as his Spawn. The hungry, lustful power offered by Mephistopheles had been entirely too tempting and he is grateful he had disrespected your mental privacy in that moment.

Astarion has been told by Cazador for two hundred years how genuinely unlikeable and weak he is. The lure of the ritual had tried to push him to show Cazador ‘just how weak he truly is’- it was practically begging him to complete it.

Astarion could not be more grateful that Shadowheart announced your possible impending death. He wouldn’t have taken the time to cross your boundaries and explore your mind- just resorting to turning you into something you didn’t want to be because that bloodthirsty Ascension would allow him to have power and you wouldn’t be able to leave him. You would have been unhappy at first, but he would keep you safe- that had been the Magic’s justification.

The love you feel towards him is even more all consuming than any evil power would ever be. Your thoughts- even in your grief- were full of warmth, love, and happiness for him despite how gut wrenching it was to hear your mental distress at the idea of him Ascending.

Astarion realized that he would not be able to feel that with you again if he ascended. He would never truly know what it feels like to be loved ever again- he’d be too busy wanting more power and possessing your entire being like Cazador had wanted to do.

If Cazador could do this much damage to you- what would he be capable of? Astarion would have you physically, but eventually, you would turn into a ghost of yourself- abused and empty. Just like Sebastian and the other unfortunate individuals who had been unlucky enough to cross his path.

Or you’ll be like him and eventually find a way to kill him so you can be free. Either way he ends up losing you.

Astarion thought that he would feel relief and happiness when he finally killed Cazador, but he actually felt heartbroken when the man dropped to the floor. It pisses him off even now, but Halsin had said something to him afterwards that had somehow been beneficial.

“It’s okay to grieve your chains after you have spent so long learning to love them- to survive them.”

So he sits here and grieves the last shitty 200 years while holding your sleeping form because you make him feel steady and you keep him on the ground. The hint of your perfume and the clean linens is soothing. You are softly snoring and the sound fills his heart with glee.

You are here and you are alive. He doesn’t have to grieve you or himself and that’s all that matters to him at the end of the day.

There is a quiet knock on the door as Isobel, Dame Aylin, and Shadowheart walk in. They tell him they are going to do a group healing prayer over you that should help you feel better and stronger much faster than if they continue to heal you individually.

It was clear it was a ceremony that was “need to know” and Astarion was promptly kicked out of the room. Realistically the whole thing took about 10 minutes, but Astarion felt like he had to wait for hours for them to be done.

When they are finally done- he races back into the room and makes sure not a single hair is out of place. Astarion worries that he’ll be a nervous wreck if you are out of his sight for a while and he hopes you understand.

Astarion tidies up your stuff in the corner of your shared room (the couples were finally told they need to get their own lodgings) when he hears you gasp for air before you frantically look around the room as quickly as your exhausted body can from where you are- your limbs and neck figuratively glued to the bed.

You haven’t seen Astarion just yet, but he wants to assume he might be the one you are looking for and he’s right. Your eyes land on him and your lip is trembling as you look at him- tears drenching your cheeks instantaneously.

Astarion drops your armor, hastily gets into the bed, and holds you while leaving gentle kisses on your hairline. You hold onto him like you are afraid you may never see him again. Your hands are weakly twisted into his shirt and he can just barely hear you begging him not to leave you between heavy sobs.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, “unfortunately for you- I’m never allowing you to leave my sight again, Darling.”

Your laughter comes out as a painful wheeze and Astarion runs circles into your back as you ride out the pain. You snuggle into Astarion’s chest and a sigh of relief escapes your lips. Astarion thinks you may go back to sleep, but then you tense up ever so slightly and he almost misses what you say to him next.

“You didn’t give up on what you wanted for me- did you?” Your voice is small and troubled, “I don’t want to be the thing that kept you from having what you wanted.”

“Yes and no, but not in a bad way,” Astarion says, not wanting you to worry any longer, “I realized that Ascending meant losing myself and you- even if I did bring you back to life as a Spawn, you would have been miserable and unhappy.

“I also realized that my love for you and your love for me is far more valuable to me than all the power in the world. If he could do all of those horrible things to you- what would I be capable of? It just clicked. I realized to Ascend would be to destroy what we have and I wouldn’t be keeping you or me safe- I’d be keeping us captive by selling my soul to Mephistopheles.”

You are so quiet that Astarion thinks you fell asleep, but then he feels your tears begin to stain the fabric of his sleeve.

“I wa- I-,” you are struggling through your tears, “I was so sure I was losing you forever or I was going to be stuck with him forever. I never thought this would be the end result.”

“I, for one, am much happier with this result.”

“Me too,” you smile brightly at him, your voice sounding less retired and rough.

Astarion just takes in your face looking at him, tracing your features with his hands. You are only in your undergarments and lots of medical wrappings due to the amount wounds Cazador had inflicted upon your body.

They must have just cleaned and changed all the wrappings though because the scars that were more superficial are no longer wrapped- just bright red ish purple scars.

The deeper ones on your sides are the ones that had worried Isobel. She had to heal, stitch, heal, and then stitch again before the wound itself finally stayed close. Halsin had been able to cast something to prevent you from waking up during the process and Shadowheart had poured something into your mouth so you wouldn’t feel the pain.

Dame Aylin had shook her head and looked at him.

“After a century or five, it stops weighing on your soul so much- the torture and the pain,” she slowly looks at you, her eyes sad and empathetic, “but that first time? You will never forget that.”

Astarion is probably the only one who knows your Step-dad is a horrible pig, but Astarion had already taken care of that. He also can’t deny that Cazador’s torture is a thousand times worse than anything Bridil could do.

You begin to trace Astarion’s features with your fingers and it jolts him out of his thoughts. Astarion leans in and begins to kiss your lips slowly- taking his time to breathe you in.

There is a question on Astarion’s tongue, but he isn’t sure if he should ask just yet. He wants you to know that he is asking out of readiness and not from a “I thought I almost lost you forever”. Not that he doesn’t want to- he just wants to make sure it’s perfect and not rushed. Astarion has been thinking about this question for a long while now- you are his partner, his best friend, his family.

Astarion has waited for what feels like a lifetime to find someone like you and he wants to spend a whole eternity more with you. He just hopes you’ll say “I do” because Tav Acunín has a very lovely ring to it.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #karlach #bg3 #astarion x female reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x f! reader #bg3 astarion

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ladykailitha · 6 months

Text

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 7

And now you see why I waited until I had this part written before posting the last one? That was one hell of a cliffhanger. Also everyone gets a dig at Al in this. It's family bonding event. But Steve has the best burn I think.

Just a heads up, Steve talks about being abused...heads up if that's a trigger for you.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

***

Steve placed his hand on Eddie’s back the second he felt his friend stiffen next to him.

“Deep breath, Eds,” he murmured. “There is nothing he can say to you that I will let him get away with, okay? Deep breath. Let me and Wayne handle this.”

Eddie let out a deep breath. “Just careful, Stevie. He’s been known to charm snakes out of their skin.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. So that’s the kind of man he was. He knew that kind of man intimately. His own father was like that. He knew what to watch for now that he had been forewarned.

He plastered a solemn expression on his face, that to everyone who didn’t know him well enough would think sincere, but to Eddie and Wayne, they could see the hard set line of his jaw as he kept one eye on Al and the other on the proceedings.

The funeral wrapped up and everyone lined up to throw dirt on the now lowered coffin. Al tried to get directly behind Eddie, but Steve seamlessly inserted himself between them.

Al bristled but the portly man next to him coughed and he was forced to back down.

Finally the family was all that remained as they all walked back to the church.

The portly man stuck to Al like glue and Steve felt a sudden warmth for the boys in blue at that moment. Because he was pretty sure that even though Al Munson had been granted a furlough, someone was paying to keep that man on a short leash.

The family and a small handful of friends arranged themselves on the pews and waited.

It wasn’t too long until a funny little man with thick bottled glasses came hurrying in.

“I’m sorry Mrs Nelson,” he twittered to Penny. “I had a hard time getting to the church.”

Penny just nodded. “It’s all right Mr Mulbury, you’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He walked up the pulpit and put his briefcase on it. He pulled out a piece of paper of it and then walked back around the pulpit, leaving the briefcase where it was.

“Ehhm,” Mr Mulbury coughed. “The last will and testament of Gina Munson goes as follows...”

He read it out, people getting little trinkets and things that were meaningful to them, instructions on what to do with her clothes and other things that wouldn’t be given to friends or family.

And then it came time to divide up her meager savings. “My savings of five thousand dollars will be divided three ways. To Penny, you get a thousand to repair that lovely house of yours. I know you didn’t want anything, but use it for your family, dearest girl. Love you all the best.”

Penny laughed a watery little chuckle. She shook her head fondly.

“To Wayne, you get two thousand dollars to finally get that motor home you always wanted. When the time is right, retire and see the world like you always dreamed of. See the stars, my beautiful boy. You deserve stars.”

Wayne teared up, coming down in rivers down his face. Both Steve and Eddie hugged him tight.

“To Allen, who had squandered every good thing he every had, his loving wife, his devoted son, his talents and his good sense, you get nothing. You deserve nothing. If you are here to hear this, I hope it is because the state of Texas deemed it so, and not because you have been set loose again on the world.”

There was a gasp from those gathered and they descended into harsh whispers as they wondered aloud who got the remaining two thousand dollars.

Mr Mulbury cleared his throat. “Instead the remaining two thousand will be given to your son, Edward. Through your actions that boy has suffered so, and because of your actions he will receive not only the money, but all my love as well. Live your dreams, Eddie. Be that star for your uncle. Shine brighter then even that of Polaris. Butterfly kisses into the sunset, darling boy.”

Now Eddie was crying too. Two thousand wouldn’t get him far, but it could get him started. He raised a shaking hand to his quivering lips. Steve grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it.

Eddie looked over and Steve mouthed, “you deserve it.”

He nodded back.

Finally there were some other little things to be wrapped up in the will and then it was all over.

Everyone stood and Steve looked over at Al for the first time since they entered the church. The man had a smile plastered on his face that sent chills down Steve’s spine. Whenever his father wore that expression it meant trouble for someone, usually Steve.

They mingled for a bit, waiting until Penny’s friend came back to tell her that dinner was ready for them. Penny, Wayne, Steve, and Eddie all clustered together while everyone else gathered in other groups.

People were coming up and telling Eddie how much he deserved the money and how much his grandmother loved him. It made Steve puff out his chest in pride.

Finally Al came over and all four of them stiffened.

“Eddie, my boy!” Al greeted warmly. “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you. You’re spitting image of your old man.” He lifted a handcuffed hand with a jaunty little wave. “I’d hug ya, but I’m on a bit of a leash.”

Penny bristled. “I paid good money for that leash, I’m glad to see it working.”

The men turned to her in shock.

“Did you know,” she said through gritted teeth, “that the state of Texas was going to let him come to the funeral without a guard to make sure he didn’t escape? And that you actually have to pay for that service?”

Al grinned. “Ah...Penny-elle-oh-pee, you shouldn’t have.” His voice dropped low and menacing. “You really shouldn’t have.”

The portly man nudged him with his elbow. Al straightened up, his charming mask firmly in place.

Wayne shook his head. “Al, Al, Al...you never did know when to fold and when to call.”

Al turned to his brother for the first time. “Big brother always watching out for everyone and never getting ahead. How much they pay you at that workhouse? You know the one, the one that took Dad’s life?”

Wayne grinned. “Pretty good considering we union’ed up about five years ago. Which would have known if you actually read any of the letters I sent you. Just like you would have known about what Eddie looks like now...”

Steve hurried to cover his snort, but Al whipped his head his direction.

“And who the hell are you?”

Steve eyed him with a raised eyebrow. “Steve Harrington, my mother is Sophia Kincade, of the Lexington Kincades and a good friend of your son’s.”

Al turned to Penny. “Why he is here with family?”

Wayne bristled. “This is the boy that saved your son during that major earthquake we had earlier this year. Another thing you’d know if you’d read my damn letters. He deserves to be here just as much as you if not more so.”

Just then Penny’s friend came in and told them that dinner was ready for the family.

Al ran his tongue over his teeth and grinned. “Hey, Bernie, how much time have we got?”

The portly man looked at his watch. “We’ve got about an hour before we have to leave to catch our flight.”

Penny furrowed her brow but knew she couldn’t deny him dinner as much as it grated.

The friends that had been at the reading made their goodbyes and soon everyone else was filing into cars.

Penny and her family in her blue Chevy, Steve, Eddie and Wayne in his BMW, and Al and Bernie in an unmarked Crown Vic.

They get to the house and the scents of a home cooked meal waft from the open front door.

They all go sit down at the table, Danny and Wayne pulling out two more chairs for their unwelcomed guests.

Steve was disappointed to see that not only was there enough food to feed Al and Bernie, but that there was enough food to feed a fucking army.

Penny’s friend’s name is Lucy and her daughter Beth is one of Lauren’s friends, too. They’re both blonde with bright blue eyes and curvy bodies.

They are bustling around the table making sure everyone has enough food.

About half way through dinner Al speaks up. “So you still playing that guitar of yours, Ed?”

Eddie stiffened. “I’ve got a red NJ Warlock that I play now.”

“Ooh...fancy,” Al whistled. “You steal it?”

Lauren and Wayne bristled, but Eddie scoffed. “No, but I did steal an RV once while on the run wanted for murder, but they were a bunch of pricks anyway.”

Wayne and Steve stifled a laugh while the rest of the family looked as though they weren’t sure if he was telling the truth or not.

“Cleared of all charges,” Steve added with a sly smile. “Court ruled it extenuating circumstances.”

It was Eddie’s turn to hide his smile in his napkin.

Al’s mood darkened. He didn’t like being out of the inside joke. “You gonna do anything with the talent I gave ya, teaching you how to play on that beat up ‘ole six string?”

This time Eddie rankled. How dare AL imply that he had anything to do with his ability to play guitar? As if the real reason wasn’t sitting right there at the table.

Steve put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, calming him.

“Was that before or after you taught him how to hotwire a car?” he asked, faux innocence.

Al sputtered.

“See, I always got the impression,” Steve continued, “that instead of teaching Eddie how to play guitar or throw a ball you were too busy trying to make sure your son followed in your footsteps straight into the penitentiary.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide with barely contained glee.

“While Wayne on the other hand,” he said scratching his temple, “was working hard to put on the table, get Eddie through school, and give him the best life he could given the hand you dealt both of them. Now, I’m just some outsider, but I know what it’s like to have a shit dad.”

The room was stock still. Steve didn’t think that they were even breathing at this point, but he pressed on.

“Didn’t fit into the box he built? He hit me. Didn’t get captain my sophomore year, something that had never been done ever? He hit me. Didn’t date the right girl? He hit me. Ditched my asshole friends? He hit me. Now, I don’t know if you’re cut from the same cloth or not. I don’t give a fuck. But you tell another lie like that one to these honest folk, and Officer Bernie here will be taking you back to Texas in a body bag.”

Al jumped to his feet, but before he could even twitch Steve’s direction Bernie whipped out a taser and zapped him with it. Soon he was doing a different kind of twitching.

On the floor.

Bernie began clapping and soon everyone else was too.

Steve blushed. “To think I could have been like that asshole if it wasn’t for getting some sense knocked into me by people who actually gave a damn. I’m sorry he ruined dinner.”

Penny scoffed. “Dinner isn’t ruined. Wayne, Danny please help the kind officer take out the trash.”

Officer Bernie chuckled. “Much appreciated, ma’am.”

Wayne and Danny stood up and helped him take Al back into the Crown Vic.

Wayne went through and made sure that Al didn’t steal anything or had anything that might be a danger to the good officer. He never had trusted Al, even as kids and he sure the hell wasn’t going to start now.

Soon the officer was on his way and the family sat down to eat the dinner that was so wonderfully prepared in peace. Like Gina had always intended.

Wayne smiled at Steve. He was proud of how he had stood up to Al for his boy.

****

Pt 8|Pt 9|Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12

Tag list: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mamafaithful @yikes-a-bee @dragonmama76 @flaming-reauxster

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #minor character death #dealing with grief #tw: mentions of abuse

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claymoresword · 6 months

Text

I Choose Her | Chp: 16

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 5.2k

Warnings: just a lot of fluff, draco malfoy & y/n, potential self harm references , plot heavy

Note: Hello! Yes it's finally here you're not dreaming... As always, endless thanks for your patience and support, knowing how much you guys love this fic is literally the only reason why I have kept this story going for so long. That being said, we're nearing the end now which is depressing but all we can do is savour the next couple of chapters before it all comes to an inevitable end :(

Anyway, this might be the longest chapter I've written so hopefully you enjoy this one!

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss

Hermione stirs awake due to your sudden movements next to her. You continue clutching your arm, grimacing.

Biting down hard on your tongue to avoid screaming out, and to redirect some of the pain in your arm elsewhere.

Since that day at Malfoy Manor, every new summon from the Dark Lord has been nearly unbearable to combat.

It seems the more you fought it, the more excruciating it got; torturing you into submission.

"Hey– why are you awake?" Hermione mutters groggily as she sits up as well.

You don't reply, only staring down at the Dark Mark, it pulses visibly, you wince again.

"Fuck–" You hiss, shutting your eyes tightly. You focus all your energy on fighting the affliction.

Hermione's expression rapidly turns to one of realization and then worry.

"It's hurting again?" Hermione asks, but she doesn't expect a response amidst your visible agony.

You observed as she hovered her hand over the mark on your arm. Hermione utters the incantation, and soon enough you are able to catch your breath again, the once torturous pulsing now reduced to a dull ache.

Painful, but bearable.

Your other senses return and finally you catch the other woman's gaze, you flash her a smile in relief and gratitude.

"Thank you." You say above a whisper, the Gryffindor responds by leaning in, planting several kisses on your cheek before nuzzling her face into your neck, holding you close.

She clutches onto you desperately, and you hold onto her same.

"I just hate to see you in pain." Hermione mumbles against your shoulder, you lean back to look at her.

"It wasn't always this bad.. You know who– he's getting desperate. Just like Harry said, he knows we are close to defeating him." You state, assuredly.

Your attempt to steer the conversation fails, your hopeful sentiment does nothing to sway Hermione, if anything she appears more distressed.

Your girlfriend looks away, helpless. Your brows furrow at the sight.

"What is it, my love?" You ask and Hermione hesitates to respond.

After a prolonged moment, her eyes finally meet yours again.

"I don't know– it just seems like you are having to sacrifice a whole lot to be here with me." The Gryffindor admits, she plays with your fingers nervously.

"Don't say that." You sigh.

You catch the tears welling up in Hermione's eyes, it makes you ache.

"I'm not here out of obligation, I'm here because I want to be." You state earnestly, trying your best to squander her doubts.

Stubbornly, Hermione continues to allow her anxieties to get ahold of her.

"What if the other Death Eaters– if they find us again– what if they do something to you?" The other woman continues to spiral, and you shake your head in disapproval.

"Hermione, you're not going to talk me into abandoning you.. not now. Not after everything we've endured." You affirm.

"But–" The Gryffindor starts and you swiftly interject.

"I don't care if they threaten to skin me alive.. I'm not leaving you." You counter dismissively and Hermione lets out a huff of amusement, she rolls her eyes, albeit half-heartedly.

"That's not funny." She scolds, your girlfriend glares at you to the best of her ability.

It only makes your heart swell.

"It wasn't a joke." You quip, gently cupping her cheek with your hand.

Hermione eyes flutter shut as she leans into your touch, she releases a deep breath, tilting her head to place a chaste kiss on your palm.

"Either way, it's my fault. I should've never gone to the initiation, I should've fought against it." You insist, this time Hermione shakes her head, she grabs your wrist firmly.

"You didn't have a choice." She counters, and after deliberating, you nod.

You were merely buying time, an attempt to throw your parents off your trail. You didn't have a choice.

"No I didn't–" You agree.

"But I do now– and I'm choosing you. That is all." You state and Hermione's tense expression softens at last.

She leans in to capture your lips with her own, kissing you deeply. Amidst your lip lock, your girlfriend moves to straddle you, her hand moves to the nape of your neck. Your own hands instinctively settle on Hermione's waist as she opens her mouth wider, inviting you to deepen the kiss.

As your tongue enters her mouth, you are allowed a fleeting moment of bliss before you feel another sharp pain, it courses through your arm, so sudden and unwelcomed that you are forced to break the kiss.

Hermione chases your lips for a moment before gathering herself, once again she appears concerned, but you school your expression, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of her mouth.

"Go back to sleep.. I need to get some air." You say, gently shoving your girlfriend off your lap.

Hermione takes the hint, but still, she sees right through you.

"What's wrong?" She asks as she settles on her side of the bed once more.

"Nothing. I just need to clear my head. I'll be right back, I promise." You reply, as convincingly as you can manage.

Hermione isn't satisfied with your response, but she decides not to push it further.

She nods, loosening her grip on your sleeve.

You avoid eye contact as you plant a lingering kiss on her forehead, one Hermione can't help but melt into.

The Gryffindor has to fight the urge to force you to stay as you climb out of bed, stepping out of the tent.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You wrap your arms around yourself as the cold breeze pierces through the midnight air, edged and ruthless.

The sharp sting that was once contained to your left arm has since spread throughout your entire body, your coat proving less than adequate to keep you even remotely warm.

You quickly regret your decision to leave the comfort of Hermione's embrace.

Just as you've decided on returning to the tent, a faint light in the distance catches your attention, and soon you make out a male figure in the shadows as it approaches you.

Quickly deducing that it couldn't be neither Harry nor Ron, as they were both asleep in their respective tents.

You instinctively fish out your wand from your pocket, you grip it tightly, prepared to use it if needed.

As you catch a glimpse of platinum hair, your face contorts in shock. The notes of his cologne envelops your senses, familiar and unmistakable, you don't get the opportunity to consider if your eyes were playing tricks on you.

"Draco? what–" You gape.

"Listen, I can't stay long." Your best friend interjects, halting directly in front of you.

Then, your body reacts before your mind can mitigate it. You lunge forward, practically jumping into his arms.

Draco is stunned for a moment, until he finally embraces you just as tightly in return.

"How are you?" He asks as soon as you separate.

You scoff. It was an impossible question to answer, a bit silly frankly, but you knew Draco was merely asking out of genuine concern.

"I'm alright." You reply, you watch as he nods, chewing on his bottom lip.

"What about you?" You return the gesture and he chuckles, humorless.

Draco shrugs, avoiding an answer entirely.

"Things are getting really tense." He claims, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Your parents have sent out a band of snatchers to look for you." Your best friend states and you aren't particularly shocked.

"Of course they did." You comment through a long sigh.

Draco steps closer, even though you were seemingly entirely alone, the platinum haired man remains paranoid.

"Word has spread about you and Hermione, and– what you did to Bellatrix. I can't guarantee that the other Death Eaters won't harm you if they find you." Your best friend remarks. An uneasy feeling settles at the pit of your stomach, you fold your arms over your chest.

"You have to lay low– or just come back home, please, it's far too dangerous." He pleads.

"Draco, you know I can't do that." You respond with a scowl, but the man was insistent.

"If you come home, at the very least, your parents– they'll protect you." His attempts to convince you prove fruitless, Draco only grows increasingly desperate.

"You're going to get yourself killed. Out here– with them." He finally states plainly, gesturing to the tent behind you, and you can't find it in yourself to deny a plain truth.

"Maybe." You say, and you pause as Draco sets his jaw, somehow he is more worried than you are.

"But I can't leave her." You add and finally he scoffs.

"You are so stubborn." The platinum haired man hisses, but you don't take offense, only finding the irony in his words.

"You're one to talk." You retaliate, and Draco finally tears his eyes away.

Your best friend knows now that you've made up your mind, nothing he says in this moment will convince you otherwise.

"Then know this– The Dark Lord is planning an ambush on Hogwarts, any day now." Draco now basically whispering directly into your ear.

"Ambush? Why? Snape's headmaster now, Dumbledore's gone, isn't that what he wanted?" You lean back slightly, perplexed.

Draco shrugs but now he appears noticeably distressed, more than he was just a moment ago, the man checks your surroundings once more.

"I think he wants to take over, and leave people no choice but to join his cause. No doubt he will kill anyone who dares to go against him." Your best friend adds, and your mouth falls open slightly at the realization.

Voldermort was definitely getting desperate.

"Just promise me that you'll stay away." Draco reiterates sternly, but you don't reply, your gaze fixed on the darkness, far in the distance as you allow your mind to speculate.

"Y/n." Draco insists on a response, he snaps you out of your thoughts.

"It's up to Harry, really. Hermione will follow his lead, I have to as well." You finally say, and it's not the answer the man was hoping for, his head falls below his shoulders in defeat.

Just before you can conjure some version of an apology, Draco wraps his arms around you, once again. He hugs you in a way that lets you know how afraid he truly is, a crippling feeling you both shared.

Things are entirely uncertain now. It is possible you may never see each other again.

"I really hope she's worth it." The man says as he releases you, and just as you open your mouth to respond, you hear a rustling from the tent behind you.

Draco flinches and your head snaps back to investigate the noise.

In just a fraction of a second, a sudden gust of air tickles the side of your face. The same side where Draco was standing just moments ago.

You no longer feel his presence, his cologne now a lingering scent. He's disapparated and frustratingly, you can't contain the tears prickling in your eyes.

However, you force yourself not to let them fall as Hermione soon peaks her head out of the tent, before taking a large step outside.

You recognize your cardigan wrapped around her frame.

"Y/n, who were you talking to?"

════════════════════════════════════════════

Harry and Ron narrow their gaze at you in disbelief, while Hermione kept her hand intertwined with yours.

The conversation with Draco had casted a shadow over you, sudden and nearly paralyzing. It seems you were grieving.

You grieved the chance to go home and be with your family. Mainly you can't help but feel you've failed Draco in some way.

It weighed on you, knocked you off your feet. Hermione senses this but she can only offer to hold your hand as you try to find your footing.

"What, you still don't trust me?" You scoff as The Chosen One and his best friend continued to stare at you with skepticism.

"No, not really.." Ron quips, and you don't care enough to grace him with a reaction, luckily for him, Harry finally speaks up.

"It's not that– why would Draco help us?" He ponders, no longer skeptical, just doubtful.

"Yeah, how do you know he's not setting us up? The Death Eaters might be on their way already." The ginger haired man is still convinced of your ulterior motives and you finally glower at him.

"Ron, if that were true they would've taken us already, you know that." Hermione chimes in before you, and you are thankful for it.

"In any case– we'll have to go back to Hogwarts anyway." Harry states, the one thing you were afraid he would utter.

You hold your head in your hands for a moment. As righteous and frustrating as he can be, of course Harry will always try to do the right thing.

That is the exact opposite of what you should do right now.

"And what? Offer yourself up as bait?" You taunt, but he is unfazed, certain of his decision.

"I can't just let them die." He asserts and you glance at Hermione, a look on her face that shows she is not exactly on your side, not this time.

"What exactly is your plan, Potter?" You relent.

"The Horcrux is hidden somewhere in the castle, we have to go there and locate it and kill it– and if Draco is right, if you know who marches on Hogwarts that means the snake will be with him, I can find the snake. I will kill it and we'll get a step closer to ending him, once and for all." The dark haired man declares with such conviction, but it does nothing to convince you.

The task will not be an easy one, there are bound to be consequences.

"Fine." Ron mutters in agreement.

Then Harry shifts his gaze to Hermione, "Alright." She nods in approval as well.

The scowl that covers your features only falters as you meet Hermione's expectant look.

You roll your eyes, it was three against one. It is not like you have much of a choice.

"Something tells me this is going to go horribly wrong.." You trail off.

"But alright."

════════════════════════════════════════════

You apparate into Hogsmeade, and the incessant screeching that pierces the evening air was deafening. It disorients the four of you, but you quickly gain your bearings as you spot the group of Death Eaters in the distance.

You, along with the golden trio, continue to use the darkness to your advantage. You disappear into the shadows, eventually crouching down behind a large table.

Soon the Death Eaters disperse into different directions, but a pair of them continue to head your way.

Heavy footsteps approach, the pair of men mutter something intelligible before they begin scanning through the area, looking underneath each table.

The four of you glance at each other, desperate for a way out. It was too late to disapparate, you were at all loss, you were about to get caught, again.

The sense of dread that overpowers you is only subdued as you feel Hermione clutching onto your arm.

You are graced with a fleeting moment of clarity, soon enough, an idea occurs to you.

You roll up your sleeves quickly, leaving your Dark Mark exposed.

Hermione observes your action silently, perplexed.

Then you begin to rise, but before your head can emerge into view, she harshly pulls you back down with a death grip on your collar.

She scowls.

"What are you doing?" She whispers, but her tone is sharp, vexed.

"Just trust me." You respond, providing no further explanation, you extract your wand quickly as you fight out of her hold as you stand up abruptly.

The pair of Death Eaters jumps slightly at the sight of you. You quickly realize that both men were unfamiliar to you; there is a chance they don't recognize you either.

You continue to push your luck, stepping out of the shadows. When the mark on your arm comes into view, their expressions grow less tense, and you release the breath you were holding.

It appears your luck has yet to run out.

"He's not under here, I've just checked." You lie, and it doesn't take the men much convincing to take your word.

They give you a curt nod.

"You cover the rest of this side, we'll check over there." One of the Death Eaters orders, soon they both turn to walk in opposite directions, splitting up to cover more of the area.

You waited until they were out of view before crouching down again, but to your confusion, Hermione was nowhere to be found.

No trace of Harry and Ron either.

"Lumos." As you searched for them, you began trying to mentally uncover an explanation.

You wonder if they had perhaps apparated elsewhere, but you eventually decide against the possibility. Certain that your girlfriend wouldn't just leave you like that, at least not without some type of forewarning.

Soon, you are inching past a dark alley, rows of abandoned pubs and houses come into view, but no sign of the trio.

"Hermione–" You finally call out, frustrated.

They are hiding, somewhere.

As you near the seemingly abandoned Hog's Head pub, the door suddenly opens, and you are dragged in by the arm, the touch you immediately recognized.

You can't contain it as you beamed in relief as you step inside,your girlfriend locks the door swiftly before dragging you further down a flight of stairs.

Once you get to the bottom of the steps the Gryffindor finally turns to you. Your grin now reduced to an easy smirk as you stared at Hermione, merely gratified at the knowledge that she had no true plans to abandon you.

Then the other woman gazes at you knowingly, a tangible sense of devotion and deeply rooted trust, a feeling that tethers you to the other.

The pair of you now certain that you could survive anything, as you will always have each other to rely on.

It moves your very spirit, the urge to act upon your desires overcomes your being and Hermione in turn, gives into her own. Soon you are both leaning in, as your lips crashed against Hermione's, she kisses you, despairingly and unafraid. She presses her body up against yours and you fall back against the wall behind you.

"You need to stop taking risks like that, they could've recognized you." Hermione breathes out as your mouths separate, she runs her fingers through your hair.

You don't respond, merely scanning her delicate features with your eyes, you find yourself memorizing every freckle and crease.

You thumb tracing over her bottom lip causing them to part slightly.

Then, you kiss her again, open mouthed and forceful. Hermione welcomes this, as she lets slip a faint noise of approval, your hand rests on the small of her back, pulling her impossibly closer.

Your plans to continue the kiss is ruined as you hear the harsh noise; the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Hermione pulls away first, then she looks away, sheepish.

Contrastingly you stare down the source of the interruption. Ron's disapproving stare has done nothing but vex you in the past, and this time it is no different.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we've got more important matters to deal with right now." The snide remark irritates you, but not as much as it might have once did as you recognized that he had a fair point.

Before you can retaliate, the swinging door leading into the kitchen opens, a man enters.

A man you quickly realized to have an uncanny resemblance to the previous headmaster of Hogwarts.

You observed as he set down a tray of bread and butterbeer. As Ron approaches the tray, Hermione does as well, dragging you along with her, but you kept your gaze on the man, squinting slightly, perplexed.

"Aberforth. Dumbledore's brother." Hermione finally leans in to whisper into your ear, providing you the answer to your question.

You take a single bite of the bread, nearly too tough to chew and almost impossible to swallow.

You gently place it back onto the tray, as polite as you can manage, you force the tough piece of bread down your throat and ingest nothing else after that.

Hermione and Ron continue chewing eagerly, merely glad of the decent bit of sustenance.

Harry doesn't move; he continues watching the painting of a girl, mounted up on the wall.

You find yourself staring at it as well, finally you catch the figure blink, as if it just took notice of you. Her shoulders rose and fell ever so slightly as she breathed, but her expression remained stoic.

"Do you hear from the others much– from the Order?" Hermione asks, after swallowing the contents in her mouth.

Aberforth narrows his gaze.

"The Order's finished. 'You know who' has won, anyone who says otherwise is killing themselves." He states definitively, his pessimism isn't lost on any of you.

"We need to get into Hogwarts tonight. Dumbledore gave us a job to do." Harry asserts, and Aberforth glances at him, almost amused.

"Did he now, Nice job? Easy?" The older man's condescension was beginning to make your head hurt.

Harry's patience stretches further than yours, as he manages a civil response.

"We've been hunting Horcruxes. We think the last one's inside the castle, but we'll need your help getting in." The chosen one states firm and unfazed.

Hermione quietly offers you her mug of butterbeer, you accept it gladly, taking a sip as the older man grants Harry an equally negative response.

"This is no job, my brother's given you. It's a suicide mission. Do yourself a favor, boy, go home. Live a little longer."

"Dumbledore entrusted me to see this through." Harry's conviction doesn't falter even as he begins to grow agitated himself.

"What makes you think you can trust him? What makes you think you can believe anything my brother told you? In all the time that you knew him, did he ever mention my name?" Aberforth taunts, the vitriol lacing his statements makes you grimace.

You glance at Hermione, she is sporting a similar look.

"Has he ever mentioned her?" The older man gestures to the painting.

Harry shrugs.

"Why should he–" He starts.

"Keep secrets? You tell me." Aberforth finishes for him.

"I trusted him." Harry insistent on not backing down.

"That's a boy's answer!" Aberforth barks.

"A boy who goes chasing Horcruxes on the word of a man who wouldn't even tell him where to start, you're lying!" The older man slurs, gesturing with a goblet still in hand.

Then, it finally occurred to you that the younger Dumbledore was drunk. At least drunk enough to take out his anger on the wrong person.

"Not just to me, that doesn't matter– to yourself as well. That's what a fool does. You don't strike me as a fool, Harry Potter, so I ask you again, there must be a reason." Aberforth continues, stepping closer the dark haired man.

Perhaps an effort to intimidate, but miraculously, Harry manages to keep a level head as he holds the man's hard stare.

"I'm not interested in what happened between you and your brother, I don't care that you've given up. I trusted the man I knew. We need to get into the castle, tonight." The Chosen One declares, and Aberforth is visibly taken aback by Harry's response, and so are you.

Then, the long bearded man nods subtly to the painting above Harry. The four of you watched intently as the girl walked further into it, disappearing into the distance.

"Where have you sent her?" Ron asks.

"You'll see, soon enough." Aberforth mutters, he walks with his goblet, toward the exit.

"That's your sister Arianna, isn't it? She died very young, didn't she?" Hermione asks, gesturing to the now vacant painting.

Aberforth pauses to look at her.

"My brother sacrificed many things, Mr Potter, on his journey to find power. Including Arianna." Aberforth's reply, a final attempt to sway Harry, but his devotion to the former headmaster of Hogwarts remains.

"Thank you, Mr Dumbledore." Your girlfriend expresses earnestly, and the man only nods, dejected, soon disappearing through the doorway.

"He did save our lives twice, and kept an eye on us in that mirror." Hermione looks between you, Harry and Ron.

"That doesn't seem like someone who's given up." She says in a hushed tone, now looking directly at Harry.

He averts his gaze, mulling over his best friend's statement.

A prolonged silence hangs around you before the painting starts to shift and move, soon it opens outward like a door, revealing a dark passageway.

You catch movement in the shadows, your hand instinctively moves to wrap around Hermione's waist. Your girlfriend doesn't hesitate to step slightly closer to you, also acting on instinct.

The figure that emerges is not one you'd expect, you quickly recognize it to be Neville Longbottom.

You didn't know him well, beyond a few fleeting interactions at school in the past, but

based on Harry's reaction, you considered his presence to be a welcomed one.

"Neville? You look–" The dark haired boy beams, and his friend interjects.

"Like hell I reckon." Neville quips.

"This is nothing, Seamus is worse."

He grins, his gaze shifts between the golden trio, and when his eyes fall on you, he appears stunned, for a moment.

You decide to flash him a clipped smile, one he eventually returns.

"We best get a move on." The man finally gestures.

════════════════════════════════════════════

"I don't remember this on the Marauder's Map." Ron questions as the four of you follow Neville through the dingy passageway.

You trailed closely next to Hermione, and Ron behind you.

"That's because it never existed until now, the other secret passages were sealed off before the start of the year. This is the only way in or out now." Neville explains, the light from his wand continues to barely illuminate the path ahead.

"The grounds are crawling with Death Eaters and Dementors." He remarks and suddenly you feel inclined once more to hide the Dark Mark beneath your sleeve.

Hermione catches your subtle action, but doesn't comment on it.

"How bad is it with Snape as Headmaster?" She asks instead, returning her attention ahead.

"Hardly ever see him. It's the Carrows you need to watch out for." Neville quips and your face contorts in disbelief.

"Carrows?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, they're in charge of discipline." His friend states.

"What? They put the Carrows in charge?" You gape, appalled.

"What is it? How horrible are they?" Hermione asks as she notices your reaction.

"I mean they're insane, fanatics– obsessed with blood purity. But last I heard, they were locked up in Azkaban." You admit and now Hermione's expression is nothing short of horrified.

You intertwined your fingers, an attempt to wordlessly reassure her.

"Well, they're out now." Neville states.

"Who do you think did this to me?" He adds, turning around for a moment to point at the deep gash on his face.

Although his tone was lighthearted, you can't help but feel a twinge of remorse.

After a few more steps, the five of you halt behind a flat wall. You eventually make it out to be the back of a painting, similar to one at the pub.

Neville pushes it open, he pauses to address the crowd on the other side, and soon enough, he steps aside to reveal Harry.

The room suddenly erupts with claps and cheers as they welcome The Chosen One.

Hermione continued to hold your hand as you stepped out of the passageway and into the room, Ron following suit.

You receive a few stares as you emerge next to Hermione, but no one addresses you directly, not until Seamus catches sight of you.

"What is she doing here?" He jeers, as the cheering for Harry completely dies down.

Now all eyes are definitely on you.

To your complete surprise, Ron is first to come to your defense.

"Back off alright, she's on our side." The ginger haired man says but Seamus is less than convinced.

"I'm sure that's what she wants us to believe. We've learnt well enough by now not to trust the word of any Slytherin." He spat as he stepped closer, and Seamus' attempt to intimidate you only works to amuse you.

You can't help the mocking smile that forms on your lips, and his scowl simply deepens at the sight.

"I say get her out of here." He announces, glancing around the room for any supporters of his idea.

"No!" Hermione interjects, she swiftly sets her body in between you and Seamus.

"We wouldn't be here without her help, Seamus you have no idea what you're on about." Ron defends you again, and this time you are truly bewildered.

Noticing he is outnumbered, Seamus relents.

"I've got my eye on you." He hands you the passing threat, and you tilt your head slightly.

"Is that supposed to frighten me?" You taunt, unfolding your arms, now you are prepared to go for your wand.

"Enough! None of this is going to help us defeat 'you know who'. We can't afford to fight amongst ourselves." Harry quickly shuts down the possibility.

"Harry's right." Neville steps forward.

"So what's the plan?" He asks, and soon all attention is on Harry once more as everyone awaits his call.

"Okay, there's something hidden here in the castle, and it may help us defeat 'you know who'." He starts, his voice bounces off the stone walls as the room goes silent.

"Right. What is it?" Neville asks expectantly.

"We don't know." Harry responds truthfully and his friend glances at Saemus for a moment.

"Where is it?" He tries again and Harry shakes his head.

"We don't know that either." He repeats and the group standing before the four of you continue staring, deadpan.

You allow your head to droop, letting out a prolonged sigh.

"Look, I realize that's not much to go on." Harry starts.

"That's nothing to go on." Seamus interjects.

"I think it has something to do with Ravenclaw. Um, it'll be small, easily concealed." Harry recalls his visions.

"Anyone have any ideas?" He asks, the desperation in his voice was evident.

For a while it seems all hope was lost, until Luna finally speaks.

"Well there's Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem." She suggests.

"Bloody hell, there we go." Ron releases a breath of relief.

Now the deadpan gaze is shifted towards the platinum haired girl.

"Lost diadem of Ravenclaw, has anyone ever heard of it? It's quite famous." Luna adds.

"Yes, but Luna, it's lost, for centuries now, there isn't a person alive who's seen it." Cho chimes in from next to her.

"Excuse me, can someone please tell me what a bloody diadem is?" Ron pleads, and you let out a huff of amusement, against your better judgment.

Hermione finds the opportunity to glare at you.

"It's a sort of crown, you know, like a Tiara." Cho explains, but it gives none of you any clue of where to locate it.

Before the discussion can go any further, the main door opens, soon Ginny bursts in, she is stunned for a moment as she spots Harry.

"Harry." She gapes.

"Hello." The dark haired man responds, equally jarred.

Ron scoffs as his sister pays no attention to him.

"Five months she hasn't seen me, it's like I'm 'Frankie first year'.. I'm her brother." He remarks above a whisper, and you grin.

"Yes but she's got a lot of brothers doesn't she? There's only one Harry." You quip teasingly, earning a smile from Hermione.

The ginger haired man merely rolls his eyes.

"Shut up, Y/n." He huffs.

"What is it Ginny?" Seamus finally asks.

"Snape knows. He knows Harry was spotted in Hogsmeade."

#hermione granger imagine #hermione x reader #slytherin au #hermione granger #harry potter #harry x hermione #hermione granger x reader #ron x hermione

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fatuismooches · 8 months

Note

Helloo Smooches!!

I had an idea about mixing in two ideas - childhood friend + fragile!reader with Pantalone (let's not let Dottore steal all the spotlight)

Basically, bc of living in poverty reader is very weak and Pantalone concludes you'll be dead any day soon. But despite everything Reader keeps pushing through and he's intrigued. Not only you somehow keep living, you're so nice and try to help others around you any way you can, including Pantalone. I think after becoming friends he advices you to care more about yourself, seeing your frail condition

At one point your condition becomes worse and you need medicine which is already expensive, but for you? You can only get it if you work 24/7, but you physically can't. However, miraculously, you get that medicine. After some time you learn that it was Pantalone who worked all day and night for you and reader can't thank him enough. You may learn he didn't eat for a few days and worked in ungodly conditions just to save you. Reader feels very guilty about all of this, but Pantalone reassures them that it's better than you dying. And it's so strange, even for Panta himself. Like, there are tons of kids who are in the same condition as you or even worse, then why he's so keen to save you?

The rest is history. You two become inseparable, helping each other get through life (no one of you mentions it, but Pantalone works harder and more than you, due to your illness).

When he becomes the Regrator, you're still together. But now he can properly take care of both of you, since you were damaged pretty badly by your childhood. But if Pantalone's immune system got very strong and he only really has bad eyesight, then you... It's not a pretty scene, but he can keep you in stable state thanks to all the expensive doctors, medicine and anything you need for your comfort. I also feel both of you get flashbacks and nightmares about past, so both of you are here to comfort each other

However, if you did die before seeing Regrator in all his glory... He's devastated. He makes sure your grave stays in top-notch condition. Pantalone is grateful for the time you were with him, when Reader became a little ray on sunshine in his dark life, but won't deny he wants you back. However, even endless wealth can't bring reader back. But at least now Pantalone knows for sure he won't lose anything close to him due to lack of mora ever again

-🥀, who went insane

DOTTORE STEALING THE SPOTLIGHT IS SOOO TRUE IM SO SORRY 😭😭💀 and UGHHH THIS IS FEEDING MY PANTALONE BRAINROT SO GOOD, 🥀 ANON ILY ❤️❤️❤️

Pantalone just not caring about you in the beginning is unfortunately true at first 😭 He is well aware that it is a dog-eat-dog world out there, especially in the environment where you two are. Everyone is out for themselves, no one will look out for each other lest they get stabbed in the back eventually. The young boy has seen more death and suffering than a child of his age should, and he thinks that soon, you will become one of them... but you don't. And despite your ailing condition you still find it in you to help others and the younger kids... he thinks you are simultaneously the strangest, kindest, and dumbest person he's ever met. How could you be so kind in a world like this? You've surely seen the same things he has... you should be putting yourself first, you're squandering what life and health you have left on random people!

He just doesn't understand... he doesn't seek to figure you out first, but you are the only kid his age around these parts, and you do always try to hang around him... so he relents. He becomes your friend. And he... comes to like you. To care for you. The boy has never felt that to someone else before. It makes him act different around you. To go to certain extents he would never dream of doing for anyone but himself. To get little trinkets for you, that really aren't worth anything at all, but he likes how they make you smile. To share bits of his meager rations with you, to which you always giggle and ask if you could feed him. It's strange, even stranger when he goes beyond that. Did your medicine deal a significant blow to his savings? Yes. Did he care? No. Seeing you smiling seemed to satisfy some hole in his chest that has been empty since birth. Pantalone can't help but want you to stay by his side. And you do too.

Ugh yes he would treat you higher than royalty like you deserve after how much you suffered with him for all of those years. I imagine he would be so overprotective and concerned for you, if you had even the most minor health scare he would be more worried than YOU. Regardless you bet he will fulfill every single wish you had since childhood, nothing is off the table, Pantalone WILL make it happy. Yup I imagine Pantalone sometimes has nightmares about losing everything he built his way up to and going back to the poor boy alone on the streets... and you have your own trauma from your condition so just :( lots of nighttime cuddles and soft back rubs

🥀 ANON YOU JUST HAD TO END IT WITH ANGST... To say he would be crushed is an understatement. Part of his motivation and reason to ascend to the top was to be able to give you the life you deserve - a comforting, peaceful, and rich one. But you were gone... he was so, so close to saving you. He still loves you so much. And although he has the Mora to never lose anything close to him again... will there really be anything like that for him ever again after he lost you?

#smooches talks #🥀 anon #fragile reader <3 #pantalone love notes <3 #i have been brainrotting over pantalone's real name lately 😭#GODDDD I WANT TO KNOW SO BAD #the amount of fluff id pull if I knew his real name #wooo i think i wrote alot but pantalone + childhood friend is truly something i adore

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dotieeee · 9 months

Text

A Small Token of Devotion

Part 3 of A Small Act of Kindness

A DARK three-shot

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x you, afab reader

Warnings: dark!Morpheus, obsessive behaviour, dark!Dream won't take 'no' for an answer, disturbing themes like kidnapping, imprisonment, isolation, psychological torture, non-con/dub-con kissing and touching etc, 18+ only!! Please read: this has DUB-CON with NON-CON elements, read at your own risk :), rough smutty SMUT, probably the filthiest I have ever written,

Inspired by this ask for @roguelov See: https://www.tumblr.com/roguelov/721739134130143232/this-isnt-smut-but-dream-has-strong-miette?source=share

Officially now a three-part series!!! Masterlist here

Part 1: Click here

Part 2: Click here

Summary: You're still being held against your will by the King Of Dreams, who offers you a deal that you find too good to be true, but are too desperate to refuse.

Breakfast was surprisingly peaceful. After the kiss Dream had stolen in that hallway, he had kept his hands to himself and was seemingly content with watching you eat. And, boy, did you pack it in. You were never hungry while he kept you in your prison, but you had missed it so much that you abandoned all inhibition and ate almost everything within your reach. Fuck if he was observing every move you made – the food was unlike anything you've tasted, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Morpheus had escorted you by the hand to the library after, where you were formally introduced to Lucienne, his librarian, who was gracious enough to show you around. He had to leave you in her care while he went away for his duties, and with that, you couldn't be happier – any time away from him was a much-needed respite. Like a madman, you combed through the shelves for your parents' books once Lucienne explained that every dreamer to have existed had one that recorded their dreams. You came up empty-handed, however, so you decided to enlist her help.

"I'm afraid Lord Morpheus has forbidden you access to those books, my lady," she said, eyeing you empathically. "He has not divulged the reason, but it is likely to protect you."

Or likely to sever your connection to the Waking World even further.

You were put out by this, of course. You've been missing your parents terribly since you moved out, even more worried now that they probably realised you'd gone missing for who knows how long. But you weren't about to squander this rare instance of being out of your enclosure by moping. Instead, you found the softest, most comfortable couch in the library and continued reading The Wrongs of a Woman, determined to enjoy this new-found – and possibly short-lived – freedom. You had gone through four chapters, however, but you couldn't seem to concentrate, so you put down the book, thinking it deserved more than a half-hearted reading. You had a plethora of human knowledge at your disposal, and all you could think of was him.

He’d be more than pleased if he’d ever find out.

But Morpheus was away, so if you could learn more about him and his nature, maybe you’d be able to somehow use that to your advantage, eventually. Lucienne was happy to lead you to a rather thin, small leatherbound book that contained knowledge of the Endless, written by a man who was once immortal, which in turn, led you to discover that there were actual immortal humans roaming the earth, and some are friendly with them and the lesser gods. Was Professor Gadling one of them? It wouldn't be too far-fetched, given he had addressed Morpheus by his name and had referred to him as a friend. If you weren't in such distress caused by him, you'd probably be having an existential crisis.

Instead, you had a different crisis at hand, and one in the form of an Endless whose powers you have yet to fully comprehend. You didn't even sit down; right before the bookshelf you plucked the book from, you dug into it at once.

You discovered that there were seven Endless siblings – anthropomorphic personifications – who governed their own realms: Destiny in his garden, Death in her Sunless Lands, Desire in their Threshold and their twin, Despair in her grey Room of Mirrors, and their youngest, Delirium in her realm Formless Chaos. Your interest was piqued further once you got back to the part of Dream of the Endless. While it was rather sparse, the unknown author did his best to jot down the Endless' powers, including crafting dreams, fantasies, and nightmares, and manipulating reality to an extent. The Endless kept endless secrets, it seemed, which was a wonder that the author had that much to write about and put in a book. According to the book, Morpheus went by so many names throughout the passage of time.

"'The Prince of Stories,' huh…" you muttered to yourself. Maybe that was why he appreciated your writing.

"I'm quite flattered you are trying to get to know me, my beloved, but you could've just asked."

The amused voice made you turn on your heels, only to come face to face with the Endless himself looking down on you with a teasing grin merely inches away from you. You did your best to keep your cheeks from heating up at the closeness and stared at a spot on his collar instead.

"Sorry," you muttered. "It's just…it's a nice moniker."

"Is it?" He dipped his head lower, hovering over your ears, and whispered languidly, "Then, would you allow this prince's mouth to carve stories on your skin?"

To prevent any thoughts of getting away, he placed his hands firmly on the shelf behind you and trapped you between his arms. You stood perfectly still, but you shivered visibly when one of his hands started stroking your spine and the laced ribbon at the back of your dress. Those lips then ghosted over your neck.

"We have been apart for not more than half a day and I already miss you," he whispered in the most dulcet of tones against your skin, leaving goosebumps all over your arm. "Surely you know how you have bewitched me, and I am nothing short of spellbound…"

Then he growled just as those lips touched your skin. You haven't done anything wrong!

"Forgive me, my beloved, I am being called somewhere else." He said as he pulled away. You could tell by his furrowed brows and curled lip that he was annoyed at the interruption. "You are to stay here in the library until I come and fetch you. I need not warn you: any attempt to escape is futile and will be dealt with harshly."

You managed to let out the breath you were holding in when he disappeared with his sand. You could see from the windows that the sky had darkened, immediately followed by a resounding clap of thunder. Despite his threat, you were extremely grateful to anyone and anything that called him at that very moment, even if that meant they would be facing an irate King in the process. Besides, where else did he think you'd escape to?

***

Dream had been fuming when he arrived at the disturbance. His foul mood had inadvertently summoned a thunderstorm that flooded the basements of half the townsfolk in the process, which exacerbated the issue he had been called for: a farmer had poured an entire vat of untested growth potion on a pumpkin patch, which grew at an alarming rate the moment the brew hit the soil. The heavy rains that the thunderstorm had brought made the plant even happier, which in turn started to produce elephant-sized pumpkins within seconds. Dream had to reel in his emotions to prevent these giant pumpkins from taking over fourteen acres of land, which took a great amount of his time. By the time the situation had been under control, Dream was soaking wet, positively irked, and achingly longing to be back with you. The farmer and the owner of the apothecary who had sold the potion had to endure quite an earful from him, and they deserved every venomous word of it, for taking his time away from you.

It was dark when Morpheus reappeared at the library. Had you gone off to sleep without him? The thought made his heart sink; he had not meant to threaten you just before he left, although he admittedly would punish you if you dared wander off with the intention of running away from him – he could not have that, of course. He scoured the library shelves for you, already fearing the worst, but just as his anger started resurfacing, he found a sight that immediately calmed his inner turmoil:

There you were, on a couch just beside the spot where he had left you earlier, fast asleep with a book spread on your chest.

You had waited for him.

Slowly he made his approach, careful not to rouse you, and softly kissed your forehead. He took the book from your grasp, surprised that it was the same book he had caught you reading. You were reading about him, and that elated him to no end, even if it was a little dampened at the fact that he found the book opened on the page about his golden-eyed, meddlesome little sibling. He tossed the book to the table, then proceeded to carry you like his bride (and he knows you will be, very soon) to his bedroom, and laid you on the soft silken sheets that covered his bed. You had not stirred the entire time, perhaps savouring the only soft surface you had laid on since your stay in his realm. He decided he liked the look of you laying on your side, curled up on his bed very much.

You needed to accept him soon so he could have you on it anytime he pleased.

On impulse, Morpheus went inside your head and combed through every single memory you had. He was only getting to know you further, just like what you did reading the book that contained knowledge of him. You were eventually going to be his wife, and what kind of husband would he be if he did not make an effort to familiarise himself with his future bride's innermost thoughts and desires?

Satisfied with what he witnessed, Dream sighed in relief as he gently laid down beside you. He was tired – of course, he needed to rest, and it was his bed. He craved warmth, too, and your body just happened to be a great source of it, so he drew closer to you, his chest touching your back, and snaked an arm from behind you, wrapping it around your sleeping form. He dared not close his eyes, for he feared you would tear away from him as soon as he did. There, he laid still, perfectly content, for hours.

There was nowhere else he would rather be.

***

The first thing you became aware of when you came to wasn't the softness of the bed you were laying on, but an unyielding arm around your waist and a firm body pressed snugly against your back, purring happily like a large cat.

He seemed to notice that you'd woken up too, for he started dragging his nose from your head to your hair and inhaling your scent deeply. Recognizing how precarious your situation was, you tried to even your breathing out and pretend you were still sleeping, silently praying to anyone who would listen that he buys the act and loses interest.

Then that damn hand moved slowly downwards, then started hiking up your dress all the way to your thighs.

No such luck.

Still, you had to try. You held up pretty well, even as he turned you on your back and proceeded to straddle your hips. You tried your best not to twitch while he gripped your chin to turn your head to the side and a hot tongue licked your cheek. You squirmed slightly just as his mouth found your pulse point and sucked your skin heavily. You whimpered a little while he dragged his hands all over your still-clothed body and you felt him shift slightly.

But you drew a line when you felt him part your legs and settle between them.

You opened your eyes with a startled yelp and flailed your arms wildly, hitting his chest, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, deep chuckling as he did so.

"I see you have decided to forgo the act, my little saviour. As impressive as it was, I could hear and feel your heartbeat. You could never fool me."

You look up to those intense, dark blue eyes and those lips, curled upward in a malicious grin. True enough, your heart was racing and your breathing had quickened, but you tried your hardest to wrench your hands from his grip. It didn't work.

"Please, g-get o-off me…" you started begging.

But Dream merely hummed as his body inched closer to yours. Your terror only amplified when you felt something hard brush over the mound between your legs. You were still clothed, thank goodness, but your dress had been dragged so far up your legs you could feel the cold air on your inner thighs. Egged on by how you reacted, his hips pushed further against you, and you watched his eyes shift into black for a split second before they became blue again.

Of course, the bastard was enjoying this.

As deeply disturbed as you were, you felt a hot wetness gush between your legs, and you started to ache the slightest. And judging by his widened smirk, he knew.

"Do you find me unattractive?" He asked.

"What?" You were a bit surprised by how casual his tone was. "No, of course, you're…aesthetically pleasing… "

"Then why do you refuse me so?"

"I just don't want to, okay?" You burst out. "I don't have to justify my choice, least of all to you. Now, please!"

Halting his movement altogether, he donned a look of contemplation. "Have you laid with anyone?"

A blush started creeping up your cheeks at his question, so you pointedly avoided his stare. "Why the hell would I tell you that?!"

He tutted and said, "My little saviour, this is an open conversation that lovers usually partake in prior to being intimate." He firmly gripped your chin to turn your head and force you to look at him, his expression now serious.

"Now I ask again: has anyone laid claim on you?"

You gave a small nod, next thing you knew was a firm hand around your throat, squeezing it just enough to make you start gasping for air.

"You lie." Dream's eyes were blazing and his teeth were bared in a furious snarl.

He was right – you had lied on impulse. To your defence, you did it only in the hopes of him being disgusted that you weren't as pure as he thought. The truth was, while you had the occasional fling here and there, none of them ever progressed to anything sexual. And he knew, for some reason. You couldn't get his hand off your throat, for he still had yours pinned above your head.

"Morpheus, please…" you choked.

He said through gritted teeth, "Lie to me again and I will personally torment every single one of your past flames with nightmares until their death."

Tears started to stream through your eyes, and it was getting more difficult to say a single word as you struggled to breathe.

"Please…I-I'm s-sorry…" you managed to let out.

You gulped greedily for air as soon as he eased the pressure, but his hand remained around your neck, and it was evident that he was still unappeased. You didn't give a damn, however; you were now crying in earnest and genuinely frightened of him even more so than the nightmare you'd seen him transform into.

"I know everything about you. I combed through every thought, every repressed memory, every dream and every nightmare."

Then, what was the point of asking, you thought. You could've said it aloud too, but you were far too scared out of your wits to even stop your tears from flowing freely.

He must've acknowledged your distress, for he slowly released your throat and gently wiped your cheek with his finger.

"I am already aware of your purity. I merely asked because I trusted you enough to tell me the truth, as lovers should," he said softly as he continued stroking your cheek, perhaps to ease your discomfort.

"Fuck you, we're not lovers," you summoned the courage to whisper as your sobs died down. Fear was overtaken by irrational anger – you were fed up with his bullshit. You looked him in the eye with all the disdain you could muster as you whispered, "You think I could love you when you keep torturing me just so you could have your way? I will never accept you."

And honestly, you didn't know what scared you more: the nightmarish being with madness contorted in its features, or the stoic, oddly-calm Nightmare King pinning you down with eyes you could no longer read.

"Still as obstinate as ever, I see."

In a swift move, he removed himself from you and vanished. Before you could relish the freedom, you sat up when you felt grains of sand cloud your vision, and your entire surroundings faded to black. Within seconds, there was nothing more you could see, and everything was enveloped in darkness, including the bed you were on.

You simply floated in the vast nothingness.

"Allow me to remind you, my little saviour: I am the King of Dreams, and you are my prisoner." Your captor's voice echoed all around you, sending waves of panic through every cell in your body. Even the darkness paled in comparison to the fear his voice instilled.

"I have been patient, yet you insist on defying me. Perhaps, a reminder is due. It is time I showed you torture."

Then began the fall.

You fell into the endless darkness, unable to scream nor break the descent. You fell at an increasingly faster pace into nothing, weightless, your heart racing and your skin being blasted by the cold. Just when you thought you were going to pass out, you land safely, feet-first, like the fall never happened, and in a place that looked so achingly familiar.

You were in your parents' kitchen.

You have not been in this kitchen in a long time, but it looked as similar as the day you left. It was a bittersweet farewell, that day, you, your mom and dad celebrating your new job and telling each other you'd call and visit whenever you can. On the fridge door, you recognized the drawings being held in place by those little vegetable magnets – you made them when you were little, and since then, they have refused to remove them. They've always been proud of you, they said, as you packed your bags to head for your apartment and live your own life the way you wanted it. You didn't know until then just how much you needed to hear it from them.

A pained sob interrupted your reminiscing. It came from the dining room, so you made your way inside, your footsteps not making a single sound on the hardwood floor.

"Mom? Dad?" You called out.

Your mom sat on the end of the dining table, hunched over and visibly shaking, as your dad sat opposite her and quietly held both her hands. Behind the both of them, hung on the wall, was this large abstract painting you didn't care much about as a child but have grown to like as a teen. It didn't escape your notice that the table was strewn over with papers. You picked one up against your better judgement.

It was a photo of you taken the night you took them out to dinner with your first paycheck. Right on top of your picture were the words, printed in large, bold letters:

'MISSING.'

You put it back down at once, not bothering to read the rest. You were back! Did they not hear you?

Your mom let out a wail that would break anyone's heart. Your dad stood to hold her in his arms. He too, had tears streaming down his face, trying to comfort his wife as he nursed his own grief.

"I-I just w-want my b-baby back," your mom cried out in between sobs as she held onto your dad as if her life depended on it. "My po-oor baby, my sweet little girl, I want her back, Harold. Please, God, bring her back to me…"

"I'm here, I'm back!" You said, louder this time. Perhaps they didn't hear you.

She buried her face in your dad's shirt, and he kissed the top of her head. It did nothing to soothe her.

"We will, Martha, I promise," your dad said softly. "If we have to sell the house to continue finding her, we will. I'll sell everything we have, we'll sleep in the car, it doesn't matter."

Your mom nodded her head and gulped before she replied "I just miss her so much…"

"I do, too, honey. Every damn day.”

“This is my fault. This is all my fault, I let her leave,” your mom rambled on. “I could’ve stopped her, but I didn’t. I failed her –”

“No, you didn’t. If anything, it was my fault. But we will find her, and then we'll apologise, yes?" Your dad cupped our mom's cheeks and brought his forehead to hers. "We'll tell her every minute of every day just how much we miss her, and we'll never let her feel alone or unloved until our last breath, you hear me?"

Your mom managed a nod before she broke once more into agonised tears.

"But, I'm here!" You had tears streaming from your eyes as you screamed. They were falling apart without you, but you were back. You came back!

"I'm right fucking here!" You took a step forward so you could give them both a hug and assure them that you'll never leave their side again, but something in the painting behind them moved, making you halt your steps.

It was a pair of ocean-blue eyes that blinked, now staring into your soul, spanning the width of the entire painting – the last thing you see before the hardwood floor gave out beneath your feet and fell, once more, into the abyss.

You woke up with a start, sitting up almost at once, as you tried to calm your heart's incessant beating and relive the cause: it was a nightmare – one of many – of grief you couldn't understand, followed by an irrational fear of a pair of beautiful, ocean-blue eyes, before you were thrown into a pit of darkness with nothing to break your fall.

It was quite humorous in hindsight, given that you've lived many millennia in the most terrifying place in Creation, and one too, that countless souls dread ending up in the most.

The crackling of Hellfire in your cramped enclosure proved almost comforting, even if it was always so close to licking your skin. It provided almost ample protection against the bitter cold that seemed to seep into your bones, but you have learned to live with the stark contrast both provided. Better than being thrown directly onto the mass of hideous, mangled writhing demons at the pit of Morningstar's court. The cold, you could live with; the torture and the screaming, maybe not so much.

You stood from the jagged surface of the cave just as you felt the air around you shift. It hadn't been caused by that dreadful demon that had just passed your door, but by a powerful presence you had not felt in aeons, and which you’d never thought you’d ever feel again.

True enough, it was him: he walked right before your enclosure adorned with those large, thorny branches trapping you in and sealing your fate:

“Kai’ckul?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes, even after he stopped in his tracks the moment you called for him out loud. You were breathing heavily, now, as you walked up to your barred entrance to get a better look at him.

“Dream Lord?” You called again.

You could not help the gasp you let out the moment he acknowledged your call and faced you. He had the same brown eyes that conveyed a thousand emotions in a single flash, those thick locks you had once caressed with your fingertips, those soft, full lips you had once kissed with all the passion your mortal heart could muster…

“It is you…” you said with awe in your voice. He was just as beautiful as the day he sent you to your eternal damnation.

“I greet you, Nada.” He responded softly with that velvety voice that had once whispered such amorous words in ears the night you both gave in to your earthly desires. Yet, today, it was sombre – melancholic, even. What could have brought him here after so long? Perhaps, you dared hope, he’d come to say he had changed his mind? Has he come to finally release you from your endless torment, like you have dreamed he would for countless cold nights in your prison cell?

“Kai’ckul,” you said, your voice and the tears that brimmed your eyes betraying that little bit of joy that blossomed from seeing him again. Your beautiful king. “How I have prayed for this day. I knew you would come.”

With a doleful expression, he stated, “It pains me to see you like this.”

Does it? “Then, free me, Lord.” Your tears finally fell down your cheeks. All those words you had imagined yourself saying to him, some of them hurtful, some of them outright offensive — all of them erased by the weariness of carrying out his righteous punishment. “Only your forgiveness can free me.”

But he had no response, only a tightening of those lips, his eyes growing more guarded and unyielding.

“Do you not still love me?” You asked. Perhaps if he still did, he would be merciful?

"It has been ten thousand years, Nada."

Yes, it has been. An awfully, excruciatingly long time and a reminder wasn't needed.

"Yes, I still love you."

Hope blossomed in your heart at his words, but it was just as soon dampened by his next.

"But I have not yet forgiven you."

You looked away just as more tears started to flow. Even after those years, his heart was as cold and unrelenting as ever. Yours, however, remained steadfast, despite the continuous onslaught of coldness and hostility he and this place had for you, there was something else that helped keep your sanity and dignity intact.

He began to walk away and commanded his raven to follow. Your grip on your prison bars tightened as you called after him.

"Kai'ckul, I will not give up hope."

But he had gone too far away for you to hear his footfalls.

"I will never give up!" But was that meant for him or for you?

Your voice broke at your statement, and so do the sobs. You sank into the chilly, uneven surface of your enclosure and hugged yourself, seeking some sort of comfort. Your heart refused to be crushed. Ten more millennia could pass, and you'd still have hope that one day, you will walk on soft, warm grass and breathe fresh, sulphur-free air, and you'd travel hand in hand with Death to ferry you to your peace. You'd forgive him wholeheartedly, should he seek it from you. You loved him.

So, how come the moment you closed your eyes to rest, only one foreign thought crossed your mind and reverberated in your heart?

You don't love him and you never will.

***

Dream never tore his onyx eyes away from you when the nightmares began.

He was admittedly livid. You had dared lie to him in the face and once again refused his advances; on top of that, you had dared insinuate that he had hurt you? He would not have it. He could never hurt you, much less torture you – but he also was not above showing you what could happen to you should you go on defying him like so.

He had not meant to show you Nada's predicament, truth be told. It was a last-minute decision, but he had not in his entire Endless life encountered such blatant, insulting refusal. The venomous words you had uttered to him on his bed would have garnered a far more agonising punishment than he had given his former lover, if it had not been for the fact that it was your kindness that had once helped save him from an aimless existence. Your words felt like a slap to his face, sure, but he knew you did not deserve such a cruel sentence.

By the end of the nightmare, you had been writhing on his bed, as if in pain, and crying profusely. You were muttering in your slumber, calling out for your parents in despair. He gradually allowed the effects of the nightmare to wane to let you breathe and he knew you were drifting in and out of sleep, even though you had not realised.

"I'm sorry, Mom and Dad," he heard you whisper, half-awake, clutching the sheets beneath you and weeping softly. "I couldn't be a better daughter. I miss you guys so much. I wish I hadn't moved out so soon…if I stayed, I would still be with you and I wouldn't be here…"

Then you proceeded to toss to your side and curl into a foetal position, hugging your knees in want of comfort.

Dream's heart ached at the sight. How could it not? Despite your continued rejection of him, he truly loved you enough for him to feel your pain on a physical level. Deciding to put an end to your suffering, he approached your trembling body and planted a kiss on your head, and took away with him the effects of the potent nightmare he had given you. He had had enough, and the way your sobbing ceased and your breathing evened out gave him some sort of relief. He then replaced the nightmares with fond memories of your parents and even crafted a dream where you were once more back to your old job, writing what you pleased.

As he sat on the edge of the mattress and stroked your hair, his thoughts drifted to your parents. Although they had raised you the best they could, he could not help but criticise the way they initially pressured you into excellence the moment you showed potential. Not that he was a perfect parent, himself; his own son perished and he had a hand in it somehow. Loathe as he was to admit, your mother and father loved you with all their hearts and had been severely affected by your disappearance. He knew about their tireless efforts of trying to locate you, as futile as it may be. If you had been amenable to a proper courtship and accepted his initial offer, he would've introduced himself to them and formally asked them for your hand, but he brushed that thought aside. There was no point dwelling on what could have been.

You needed rest from the lingering effects of the nightmares. He had no regrets showing you that dream of your parents, even if he hated your reaction to it. Content with the punishment he gave you, he went off to work.

He had a proposal to plan, and a wayward sibling to visit.

***

You were still shaking slightly as you climbed the stairs leading to a balcony far up the castle, just like the note you had found on the nightstand instructed when you woke. It was an after-effect of the nightmares you had last night, you suspected. Your attendant, who was leading you to the designated meeting place, had even taken pity on you and allowed you to wear flats instead of the heels that the dress you were supposed to wear came with. Your legs almost gave way as soon as you arrived and saw him.

Your jailer and tormentor.

Dream of the Endless sat on a round table filled with an assortment of breakfast pastries in a basket, leaning comfortably on his straight-backed wrought-iron chair. His gaze was far away into the view the balcony provided, but his eyes shifted as soon as your attendant announced your arrival.

You couldn't even make eye contact with him as you sat on the only remaining chair, and you could feel those intense blues bore right into your soul. A memory of them blinking on an abstract painting made you shudder inwardly.

"Eat, my beloved," he commanded. "We are to discuss an important matter when you finish."

Your attendant poured coffee into your cup and promptly placed herself inconspicuously on the corner, likely anticipating the needs of her king. Wordlessly, you picked up your cutlery and began to eat, even if you had absolutely no appetite. You picked a danish, purposefully avoiding the baguette on the basket and even giving it a glare like it was its fault you landed in this predicament. Instead tried to enjoy the coffee, which admittedly, was a thousand times better than any coffee you had ever tasted in the Waking. He watched you the entire time, his kingly posture only shifting once you put down your knife and fork and pushed your plate away.

On cue, the attendant took the plates and the bread basket away, leaving your cup of coffee, and disappeared for good. You waited with bated breath for whatever he had to say.

"Next time you wish to cry 'torture,' remember that I have been nothing but gracious and merciful despite your continued defiance."

Ah, so he was still bitter about what you said last night.

"Nada." You blurted out, totally unprompted. Morpheus narrowed his eyes a little at the mention of the name.

"What about her?"

You squirmed in your seat at his biting tone. But he was the one who showed you the dream – you had the right to know.

"What did you do to her?"

"What I refuse to do with you: sentence you to Hell for defying me."

Curt as his response was, it chilled you to the bone. He sent a woman to that horrible place just because she rejected him?

"And my parents?" Your voice almost broke at the question, as memories of them grieving over your disappearance flooded your mind. "Why would you show me all of that?"

"I take it you miss your parents."

"Was that dream real?" You asked, your voice solemn. "Did it…did it really happen?"

"Yes."

They were losing the house just so they could keep searching for you. The thought of them homeless, sleeping on the streets in the bitter cold, made tears gather at the corner of your eyes and spill. You couldn't control them any longer, because you knew, no matter what they did, they would never find you.

"Their determination to find their beloved daughter is admirable. It is such a pity their search is futile," he said, mirroring your thoughts.

Amidst your tears, you shot him a reproachful look at the way he rubbed your mother and father's predicament on your face. You quietly wiped them away with your knuckles as you watched a ghost of a grin appear on his lips.

Jackass.

"Which is why I have decided to release you back into the Waking World."

His words made you stare at him in disbelief. It couldn’t be, perhaps you misheard him.

“I will allow your return to the Waking, to your parents, and to your old life,” he repeated, perhaps for your sake.

You blinked at him, twice, to make sure you weren't hearing things. He made no move to correct his words, but knowing him, anything he offered you came at a price that could very well cost you your soul.

"Why would you do that?" You asked slowly.

His smile grew to a smirk – this was an offer you already knew you wouldn't like. He straightened his posture and spoke with all the authority a king such as him could possess.

"Because you will marry me," he said with conviction. "You and I will be wed and you will wear a ring to symbolise your devotion to me as my wife and my queen. If you submit to me fully – heart, body and soul – on the night of our wedding, I will arrange a new life for you: one where you live your old life in the Waking World during the day, and come home to me and fulfil your duties to me as my wife, and to my Kingdom as its queen, during the night."

Surely your brain has short-circuited – you gaped at him openly in your shock. He seemed to grow amused with your expression by the glint in his eyes, but you could also tell he was dead serious.

"Something I said, little saviour?"

You opened your mouth to speak, thinking you could easily say 'Yes, go fuck yourself, thank you very much,' but instead, you ended up with, "You're letting me go, seriously?"

He nodded once and firmly responded, "If you become my wife in every sense of the word, yes."

Realising you still had a bit of coffee in your cup, you downed the tepid liquid all in one gulp. You couldn't help but wonder if it was proper to ask for something a little stronger.

"But, how would that work?" You then asked, choosing your words carefully. "I'd be married to you, but then you'll let me go? I find that too good to be true."

"You will simply divide your time between my realm and the Waking."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe what you will, my beloved," he said, his tone growing more amused with your increasingly suspicious expression. "But I assure you, it will not be any different compared to merely sleeping and waking."

You leaned back against your chair to stare at the blue sky and contemplate. He clearly has put a lot of thought into his offer, but there were other factors that needed to be addressed.

"I can't be a queen. I don't know anything about being one! I'm just a human, I have no royal blood, I have no training –"

He interrupted your rambling with an impatient flick of his hand. "Your stature matters not to me. You already possess the heart of a queen in my eyes. There is no one else I find more worthy."

He meant it as a compliment, but even that didn't ease your worries. "What would I tell them when I get back? I can't just go missing and then reappear as if nothing happened…"

You imagined there would be so many questions from so many people; where you've gone, why you left, how you got back – all of them posed challenging to formulate believable responses to.

Morpheus raised an eyebrow at you. "You have read the book, have you not? I can manipulate reality to an extent. I can make it so as if you never left the Waking. Your disappearance will seem but a nightmare to them, and one that they shall forget in time, as they do most dreams."

"And that is if…I willingly marry you."

Once more, he nodded. "I will, however, require nothing but complete surrender." This time, he leaned forward and placed his clasped hands on the table, continuing, "And, know this, my beloved: if there is but a small amount of unwillingness in your heart, I would know, and everything I offered will be forfeited. As such, you shall stay in my realm forever and will never be allowed to set foot in the Waking."

This made you raise your eyebrow back at him. He's really not leaving anything to chance. "What if I decline your offer?"

Surprisingly, he was rather nonchalant about it. He tilted his head slightly and said, "It is of no consequence to me, but you leave your world wanting of your presence. I, in turn, shall simply continue our…unconventional courtship."

You had no response to that. Everything he has so far offered you has been to his advantage, leaving you very much the disadvantaged party. Damned if you said yes, damned anyway if you didn't. You stared blankly at nothing, chewing the insides of your cheek in indecision. He must've taken pity on you, for he decided to break the silence.

"You need time to consider my proposal, I understand. I will leave you to it. I have duties to attend to for the day. In the meantime, you are free to roam the palace grounds. You need only seek me should you come to a decision."

He stood from his chair, straightening his coat, and approached your side. He bent down so he could whisper somberly close to your ear.

"Mind this, my beloved: the longer you tarry, the longer your parents suffer your absence."

You were about to come up with something to retort, but instead, you caught a mouthful of sand. He had disappeared, off to fuck-knows-where, and left you alone to make an important decision. Once you coughed out the last of the sand, you rubbed your face with your hand and groaned in frustration.

Returning to your parents, and to your old life, in exchange for marriage to none other than your captor. You’d be forever bound to him as his wife, and while you’d continue living the charade that would be your life back in the waking, you’d come to him by nightfall and he’d do with you as he pleased. And even if you refused his offer, he’d also likely do with you as he pleased. Every day, you’d pretend as if all was well in your world while being slapped repeatedly with a reality involving a husband that just might send you to the fiery pits on a mere whim.

If you refused, your mother and father would continue their fruitless search, ruining their lives and breaking their hearts forever in the process. They’d blame themselves for your disappearance until the end, unaware of your fate that this cosmic being has selfishly tied with his.

You fought the urge to vomit what little breakfast you ate with one thing on your mind: did he ever really give you a choice?

***

It was sundown in the Dreaming when you arrived before the massive doors of Dream’s throne room.

You’d been sauntering about aimlessly in his castle, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, until you reached these doors. On a regular day, your parents would be having tea at this time, your dad probably reading the paper for the fifth time, and your mom probably playing a jewel-matching game on her phone. Idle, comfortable, safe. You hoped they’d still be doing the same, but that would be wishful thinking.

That was precisely why you had made up your mind.

The doors opened without your prompting, which you took as a sign to step forward, heading straight to that tall, all-black-clad king standing at the foot of the stairs leading to his throne.

He had been waiting for you.

His eyes were burning in anticipation as soon as you got close enough to see. And those same eyes glowed with the stars it held, utterly victorious as you said ‘yes.’

Better you suffered forever than your own mother and father.

“What happens now?” you asked solemnly, trying not to feel thoroughly defeated. Morpheus approached you with an air of perverse delight as his eyes twinkled.

“I believe we are to be wed.”

Your heart began to beat faster at the realisation. “What, like, now?”

“Yes, my beloved,” he dipped his head closer to yours as he breathed, his eyes half-lidded and focused only on you. “At this very moment, we can be wed, right here. We need only utter our vows to each other, as husband and wife, and a witness, to make it official.”

Trying not to panic and failing hard, you stammered, “W-wait, I thought there were preparations, like an officiator – “

“We have no need for an officiator,” he interrupted. “I answer to no authority but my own. Matthew,” he called the name louder, and the sound of flapping wings echoed in the throne room, followed by a raven landing on the floor before the both of you.

“You called, sir?”

You blinked twice to make sure that you hadn't gone mad. Did Matthew the Raven just speak?

“Call for Lucienne,” he told Matthew, like a talking raven was the most normal thing in the world. Maybe it was; you were in the Dreaming, after all, where anything is possible, including marriage to a cosmic being that ripped you from a life that you belatedly realised you actually liked. “Tell her it is for an urgent matter.”

"I know you," you addressed the raven, whose attention immediately was on you. "You pecked at my gla – "

"My beloved, this is Matthew, my raven," Dream cut you off again, this time, with just a little hint of impatience in his voice. Dream curtly introduced you to the raven, who promptly ruffled his feathers and dipped his head at you in a polite bow. "Formal introductions can be made later. Go, Matthew."

"On my way, boss. Nice to meet you, my lady, and congratulations!" Matthew once again bowed at the both of you, and you watched him as he took flight and disappeared.

A cold hand laced around yours, and you turned to see him bring it close to his lips to kiss your knuckles, all while staring intensely into your eyes. Like ice-cold water being splashed right in your face, it hit you: this cold, cruel, hungry eldritch nightmare was going to be your husband pretty soon.

Maybe you could run fast, and maybe when you do you'd run into a portal that'll take you back to your world and he won't be able to catch you…

But the pained faces of your parents stopped you from taking your hand away and heading for the hills.

The doors swung open, revealing Lucienne, who strode to her king with a worried look on her face. She sent a curious look at your still-linked hands before addressing her king.

"My lord, is something the matter?"

"Nothing so worrying, Lucienne," he replied in a lilting tone. "I called to ask you this: will you, and in addition, Matthew, grant us this honour of bearing witness to our vows of marriage?"

Lucienne's expression changed from worry to surprise, adjusting her glasses as she clarified, "Sir? You're getting married? Right now? I mean, congratulations are in order, and to you, and my lady," she dipped her head in a small bow at you, which you returned with a shy grimace. "But may I ask why you would settle for such a humble ceremony? Shouldn't there be a feast, a gathering of representatives from all the other realms?"

Morpheus made a point of using your hand to pull you closer to his side with a grin. "Make no mistake, Lucienne: I will not deny my kingdom, and all the realms in the universe, the honour of celebrating the new and rightful queen of the Dreaming, but the festivities are of lesser priority. Now, I have a beautiful bride before me." He turned to face you, lightly caressing your cheek with his fingers as he continued, "I loathe to keep her waiting."

Perhaps touched at his loving declaration, Lucienne placed her palm on her chest and smiled fondly at the display. "Of course, my lord. It would be the greatest honour."

"Yeah, boss, go get her!" Matthew cheered from the top of the arches in the ceiling.

Oh, he's almost got you, alright.

"Very well. We shall begin." He declared with finality. His eyes glowed silver for a split-second, just as you felt the clothes on your body shift: you peeked down to see that he had dressed you in a sleeveless, all-white satin gown hugging your every curve, tied at either shoulder with only a satin ribbon. By the way scanned your figure and nodded to himself appreciatively, you could tell he liked how it looked on you. Maybe he fancied how pure you looked in it.

When he's done with you, would you still be?

Morpheus clasped both your hands in his, his eyes solely on yours, as he kissed your left hand and whispered your name against it.

"Will you take me, Dream of the Endless, as your eternal husband? Do you pledge your trust, your devotion, your heart, and your soul to me?"

Do it for Mom and Dad, you repeated in your head over and over.

"I do," you responded faintly.

The throne room is dead silent, as both your witnesses seemed to be holding their breaths just as you were, but the eyes of your almost-husband screamed triumphantly as he released your hands and waved a finger. A silver ring, adorned with a ruby, appeared floating in your midst, which he then plucked from mid-air.

"Then you shall take this ring," he went on, as placed the ring on your finger. The jewel's blood-red colour faded to white the moment it touched your skin. "A symbol of my endless vow: that to you, I offer protection, loyalty, and love, until I am Endless no more. From this day forth, I claim you as my wife, and we are bound together until the end of days."

The ring now rested ominously on your finger, without a trace of red, and was the heaviest piece of jewellery you had ever worn. It felt as if it was burning your skin, even though it gave off no heat. It made you want to scream and tear your hair out.

Your husband's eyes now bore on yours with a dark, jubilant look, just as sinister as the ring he just used to bind you to him for eternity. An impatient-sounding squawk from above alerted you both to your witnesses' presence. Morpheus smirked in amusement despite the interruption.

"Matthew, would you care to do the honours?"

"Hell yeah!" Came his raven's response. "You may now kiss the bride, boss!"

As soon as the words were said, he cupped your cheeks and placed his lips on yours. It was soft, short, even loving, by normal human wedding standards, and then he let go, and proclaimed to the entire realm:

"We are now officially husband and wife, my precious little saviour."

He brought his forehead to yours, ignoring the way your lip trembled at his statement.

"I have been wanting this for so long."

The sound of clapping, wings flapping and cheering echoed in the throne room, just as his sand wrapped around your figure and took you somewhere hauntingly familiar. The sight of that massive bed in the dark, covered in silk midnight sheets, was enough to send your heartbeat soaring through the roof.

There was only one reason he could've brought you here.

You let out a startled gasp as a pair of cold hands fell on your shoulders. You turned around and backed as far away from the bed as you could, to find Morpheus standing where you were seconds ago, clad in a different, shorter robe with a tie around his waist. He seemed to have nothing else underneath.

"Have I startled you, my beloved wife?" He asked softly, his eyes shining in the dark and his silhouette glowing in the moonlight from the open balcony. He held out a pale hand and said, "Come to your husband."

Aside from bunching the fabric of your dress near your thighs, you made no move whatsoever.

"Come to me this instant."

His low, commanding tone sent warning signals, darkening the atmosphere of the room even further. You took a few tentative steps to where he was, stopping only when he was at arm's length. He, however, closed the distance, dipped his head to yours, and whispered, "Kiss me."

Using a finger, he traced your jawline slowly, down to your neck, lingering at your shoulder where the ribbon of your dress was. His touch immediately gave you goosebumps.

"Please," you whispered shakily. You wanted to beg for him to stop, but his lips were on yours even before you could formulate the words.

The kisses you previously shared with him paled in comparison. This was different: it was as if he longed to suck the soul out of you. His tongue chased yours, and he nipped at your lower lip when you refused to respond. His hands were on your waist and the back of your neck, preventing you from pulling away. You couldn't make a sound except the whimpering from the back of your throat, yet he drowned it all out by syphoning the air out of you. With a final peck on your swollen lips, he pulled away. As he did, you got a full glimpse of his eyes: half-lidded, dark, wanting; it terrified you to no end. Then he threw you off with his next order:

"Disrobe me."

You took ragged breaths as your hands crept up to the knot around his waist, but you were shaking so much you couldn't do anything to it. He held your hands steady and guided you, and the knot came off in no time. He then brought them to his chest, where the robe was slipping – that, too, came off, and there he was, your husband, totally bared before you. Heat spread on your cheeks as you stared pointedly at that sculpted chest, refusing to look anywhere else.

Morpheus hummed lowly as he brought his lips to your ear.

"Have you ever worshipped an all-powerful being? Let me show you how. On your knees for me, my love." He gripped your shoulders and pushed down lightly to encourage you. Your stomach churned as soon as you realised what he wanted you to do.

"Morpheus, please…" you begged as you tried to get those hands off you, but he wasn't having it.

"I command you to kneel before your king and husband," he growled.

You could feel the tears surfacing as you did what you were told, so you closed your eyes so they wouldn't. You were, after all, doing this for the people you loved. You'd be free after this night is over.

"Eyes on me, my wife."

So you opened them to find yourself face to face with a huge, fully erect cock – his hand cupped your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as if he was trying to soothe you.

It did nothing of the sort.

So you pleaded with him again.

"Please, Dream…I can't do this, please," was all your shaky voice could muster. But you found no pity in his eyes; just overwhelming desire.

"Yes, you can. Open your mouth, love."

The thumb that caressed your cheek made its way inside your mouth.

"You want your life back, yes?" He asked, as his thumb drew circles on your tongue. You nodded in response.

"Good." He smirked. "You will have to work for it. Now, I want my pretty wife's pretty little mouth wrapped around me."

So for the sake of your freedom, you swallowed that lump in your throat and allowed him to push his hard cock inside your mouth.

He tasted faintly sweet, faintly salty and musky. Above you, he groaned in satisfaction at the contact and bucked his hips to push his cock further. You closed your eyes, involuntary tears streaming down your face, as he reached your throat; he was too much, his size was more than what you could handle, and he wasn't even fully in.

A hand bunched your hair and tugged lightly.

"I said, eyes on me, wife," he commanded, his voice straining slightly in pleasure. "I want your full attention as I take your mouth."

So you looked up into those dark, lustful eyes, placed your hands on his thighs, and began to suck him off.

It was a slow pace at first, given you hadn't done anything like this before, but as you swirled your tongue around his thickness and felt it throb inside your mouth, something in you bubbled, making you rub your thighs together. He seemed to notice this, for his parted lips curled in a mischievous smile, and began to thrust forward as you bobbed your head downward to take him in.

"You're doing so well, my love…" he praised as you continued to suck and lick him.

Disgust filled you, but there was something else, too.

He was panting as he quicked his movements, and while he kept your head in place with both hands so he could take control of the pace, your eyes watered at his size and length. But, just as his cock throbbed more intensely and you felt him thicken inside your mouth, he pulled it out with a heavy groan, a trail of your saliva still connecting your tongue and its tip. He was probably close, too – not that you cared; you were thankful you didn't have to do it anymore.

Your husband helped you get to your feet, and he wiped the drool that coated your chin and the corners of your mouth. Just as you thought it was over, dread filled your heart once more as he whispered:

"Your mouth was a delight, my wife, but I would like my undoing to be inside you. Now, undress for me."

"Please, Morpheus, we don't have to do this," you tried to appeal. Of course, it was in vain.

"Our marriage isn't binding without proper consummation," he said, anger and impatience laced in his tone. "I will not ask again."

You could do nothing but choke back a sob as you hastily undid a ribbon on your dress, but his hand halted your fumbling. He looked down at you with a disapproving expression.

"Slowly, my love. I want to savour this."

So, like the obedient wife he wanted you to be, you pulled the ribbon inch by inch and undid the other side just as gradually. As soon as the ribbons unravelled, the satin dress pooled at your feet, taking away whatever protection you had left from his greedy eyes. You could hear the rumble from the back of Dream's throat as he hovered over your naked form. You were shivering from the cold Dreaming air coming from the open balcony, and from the way his eyes swept your body. Nobody has ever seen you so vulnerable.

A sob escaped from your lips, but it was completely ignored.

Pale fingers traced your body – he began on your collarbones, and made his way to your breasts, his thumb circling your nipples which pebbled at his touch. He then started stroking your waist while you continued to let your tears flow silently, before gripping your body and pulling it flush to his. You winced as you felt his erection press against your belly.

"Your beauty is staggering, my beloved," he praised.

The next thing you knew was your back hitting the soft sheets and him climbing above you.

You were in hysterics the moment you realised what was happening – you clawed at the chest that descended on your body and cried out in your despair, but strong hands grabbed your wrists and pinned them on your sides. You tilted your head so you could avoid seeing your husband's face, but in your blurry line of vision, all you could see was that damned ring on your finger, weighing you down as much as the torso sitting on top of you.

Morpheus brought his head closer with his breath fanning your exposed cheek, his ire palpable at your unacceptable behaviour.

"Remember our agreement, my little saviour. Or have you decided to eternally relinquish your life in the Waking and devote it all to me?"

You shook your head in denial, but the tears flowed freely. Gentle lips kissed them away, and you let them, as once more you were reminded what was at stake.

Just one night of this, and everything will be fine.

He pecked the corner of your lips before kissing you fully in the mouth, not caring that his cock was in it just a few moments ago. His hands roamed every part of your body he could reach. As his tongue lapped yours, he cupped your breasts and squeezed softly, and you moaned into his mouth and began kissing him back, albeit hesitantly. He pinched both your nipples at the same time, making you arch your back. It was mortifying, but damn, it felt good.

His heated, open-mouthed kisses moved to your jaw, then settled on your neck, finally biting and suckling your flesh – it hurt a little, but it was as if he longed to mark every part of you. Your skin crawled at the way his mouth moved downwards to your chest. You were breathing heavily now, both in terror and heightening desire. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan when his mouth began suckling your breast and biting the nipple. Heat surged to both your cheeks and between your thighs, and you began to feel this bizarre need for more friction down there.

Maybe this could work, just drowning in pleasure like this. Never mind who it was coming from.

With an agonising pace, that damned mouth travelled down your belly, to your bosom, and reached that aching flesh. He then spread your legs and nestled between them, his eyes darkening when he saw just how much he had aroused you.

"You see, my beloved?" He said with a soft chuckle. "You crave this as much as I do."

You were probably red in the face now, having never been exposed to anyone else like this in your life. You tilted your head and closed your eyes in your shame. You weren't supposed to want this.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, my wife. Your body belongs to me. It is only right that I get acquainted with it."

He started kissing and biting down your inner thighs, marking them as his possession, but before you could adjust to this new-found pleasure, his hot breath was on your wet flesh and that mouth of his feasted.

His tongue parted your folds and then sucked on your clit, and he did this over and over, while you lay there, sprawled for him, panting heavily and mewling, gripping the sheets beneath you. He didn't mind that you weren't shaved, he ate and drank from you like a starved man, and your thighs automatically clenched him to keep him there. You writhed and moaned while that devilish mouth lapped up everything you could offer, and you could actually feel the tension building up in you like a coil, wanting to be released…

But then pulled away, leaving you winded and bewildered, while he looked down on you with a smug expression and the corner of his lips still glistening with your arousal.

"How can someone so pure taste so sinful?" He purred as he wiped his lower lip with his thumb. "I need you now, my precious little saviour. I have waited long enough."

His look darkened, immense hunger overtaking his features, as he descended on you once more and positioned himself between your spread legs. In an instant, the haziness of the pleasure was replaced by sheer panic, but by the time you reacted, he already had your wrists pinned above your head with a hand while he pushed your thighs even further apart with the other.

You knew what was at stake, but your resolve was at its weakest.

"Morpheus, please, please," you began to cry again. "I'll do anything else, I beg you…"

"Sshh, my beloved wife, sshh," he comforted you in a hushed tone as he drew closer to kiss your face repeatedly. He went on further, donning a sympathetic look. "Do you know what your parents dream of night after night? You, safe in their arms, loved and happy and wanting nothing. Do you truly wish for that to remain but a dream to them?"

You were in far too much distress to respond, but in your heart, you knew leaving them like that in the Waking would be a greater pain than what you would endure for this night. So, with great effort, you willed your tears to cease, which he seemed to take as a sign. Shifting slightly above you, he took his raging erection in his hand, placed it over your clit and dragged it a few times through your folds, before the tip landed on your untouched entrance. Letting go of your wrists, he cupped your face tenderly, and started pushing it in.

Nothing, not even that soft touch and that gentle shushing, could have prepared you for the pain you felt at the way his cock tore through your opening. You were petrified and in so much pain, the tears clouded your vision. Breathing shallowly, you could feel him push further into you, and your walls strained to accommodate him. He was impossibly huge, hot and pulsating, and every second he spent inside you was pure agony.

"Morpheus, please," you begged, fisting the sheets beneath you for elusive relief. "Please, it h-hurts, I-I can't – "

Your words were cut off by a searing kiss and a tongue that delved into yours, drowning out your cries of pain. He drank in everything, including your tears, his teeth scraping your lips as he tasted everything. He pulled away from the kiss with a groan; he now filled you to the brim, taking a great amount of pleasure from the way you wrapped around him. He stretched you to your limits while you keened from the effort of adjusting to his size.

"My wife, my love, hush," he murmured against the crook of your neck, planting soft butterfly kisses on the places he hadn't yet marked. "After the pain, will come the pleasure."

Morpheus stayed still, his forehead nuzzling your cheek, giving you time for the pain to fade. He took your hands and wrapped them around his form. You couldn't help squeezing his shoulders as you tried to relax, which he didn't object to.

From within you, he started to move. You could feel the friction as he pulled his cock out almost completely before putting it back in. You hissed and moaned in discomfort, but he went on at a slow pace. It didn't take long before you realised that the foreign feeling of being filled repeatedly to the brim was beginning to feel quite pleasurable, but that was nothing compared to a thrust that hit a certain spot in your core that sent you reeling in its intensity. Morpheus, who seemed delighted at the rather loud sound you made, grinned against your cheek and pulled away slightly, hovering over you, and began hitting that sweet spot again and again.

You threw your head back into the pillow, lost in the pleasure he gave, moaning wantonly as he increased his pace and the force of his thrusts. It was further amplified when he gripped your hips and pulled you to him as he filled you over and over, and in no time, your body began moving in sync with his as you sought more of it. Your walls clenched and unclenched around his cock without your control, you could tell that it gave him as much pleasure as it did you, for he started groaning your name over and over.

Was it supposed to be this delicious?

Soon, your movements became more insistent, and his more relentless; every part of you fired up as the pleasure heightened. You dug your nails on his back and you could feel your pulse drumming in your ears as he pounded your core. You were clenching him harder now, your flesh clinging onto his cock like your life depended on it.

With a harsh snap of his hips, you burst at the seams and unravelled; you came around his cock, screaming your husband's name, and all you could think of was his rock-hard cock forcefully hitting your sensitive walls. He too, came with a groan and your name on his lips, sending flashes of searing hot cum inside you and flooding your core with it. Your walls fluttered around the cock that was still shooting its load inside you, and your entire body shook as your orgasm took over every thought and every muscle.

It was pure bliss, and you soaked it all in.

It took a while for the high to fade, and a little longer for you to realise he was still on top of you, his cock was still hard and still inside you, and he was suckling the base of your neck and your shoulders. He's already left you bite marks all over your body, but even that wasn't enough for him, it seemed.

Resentment washed over you like cold water, but you didn't know whether it was for him or for yourself.

You let out a noise of complaint and used your palm to push at his chest. Perhaps he got the hint, for he pulled out and away from you with a final peck on your cheek. You rolled to your side as soon as he lifted off you, and your thighs inadvertently rubbed together. You were sore down there and so wet you didn't dare look, fearing you might lose your mind if you did.

Without warning, however, you were flipped to your stomach, with your husband pinning you down with his body draped all over you.

Against your ear, he whispered, "My beloved wife, you did so well. And you're going to take your husband again."

Terror welled in your heart. You were to have him inside you again, and you didn't know how much self-respect you were going to end up with if you so much as let out another embarrassing sound out of your mouth.

"Please, we already did it once – !"

Your protest was interrupted as soon as he dipped his head to your neck and bit your flesh, and with one thrust, his cock was once again lodged inside you from behind, earning a squeal from you and a sob.

He was hurting you again, and it had no right to feel this good.

"And we shall do so again, and again," he growled against your skin. "Until I'm sated. After all, you have denied me of your body for so long…"

He began thrusting into you without waiting for your body to adjust. He was rougher, hungrier, and more voracious than ever before, and the air in the room felt heavier than when he first took you.

As powerless as he made you feel since his capture of you, it was all the more evident now, and yet all that came out of you were shameless, loud moans and incoherent babbling. He hit that sweet spot over and over again with so much force, your body couldn't keep up with his pace, you laid still underneath him and let him have you.

"You will never deny me again, is that understood?"

You couldn't respond with so much as a curse – the onslaught of pleasure as he ravaged you made it almost impossible, but the rumble on his chest told you he wasn't happy with being ignored.

"Is that understood, wife?" He asked impatiently.

"Yes," you managed to let out. "Yes, Morpheus…"

He hummed in satisfaction from behind you. "All mine, all mine," he murmured, and began a pace that made you curl your toes and cry out. From behind you, he pounded into you, while your throbbing core tried its best clamping on his cock to chase that intoxicating high.

"Oh god," you cried out.

This earned a sharp yank of your hair from him. You could feel his anger envelop you and hear him growl at the back of his throat.

"Wrong," he whispered vehemently against your ear. He pulled out of you, and you whined at the absence of him inside you. "I will not have you scream another's name while I pleasure you, wife. Now, amend your mistake, or shall I take away that lovely voice of yours? It would be a shame, not hearing the music you make while I'm – " you screamed as he put his cock back inside you without warning – "buried deep inside you…"

Whether you angered him or not was of no consequence to you; the moment he continued ramming into your increasingly sensitive hole, you cried out his name, gripping the pillow in front of you with all your might just so you could take it. The ring on your finger was now completely ignored.

"Morpheus, I'm sorry, Morpheus…" you said repeatedly.

"Hmmm…that's my good girl, such an obedient wife…taking me so well…" he praised, holding your hips and bringing it to his.

His was unbridled lust, now making it known to you, and maybe even his entire realm, judging by how loud you were moaning.

"Please, please…" you begged. But for what? For him to stop? For him to go harder?

He chuckled behind you as his pace slowed down a little. "Does my little saviour want her release?"

You had tears streaming down your face in frustration. He was just torturing you at this point, but all you could do was nod as you tried to move to get more of that friction he provided. He tightened his grip on your hips to still you.

"Does my ravishing wife want her husband's seed dripping all over her thighs like the good wife she is?"

"Yes, Morpheus," you bawled. "I'm begging you, please…"

But he continued that infuriatingly controlled pace and made no move to speed it up. He whispered in your ear, "Say what you want, my little saviour and I shall give it."

"Please, Morpheus, make me come, please…"

"Good girl," he purred.

Morpheus happily obliged with your request. He rutted into you, making you throw your head back and move against him at his every thrust. He didn't like it, though; he gripped your hair again and smushed your face into the mattress, and lifted your hips in the air so he could get better access. His chambers were filled with your echoing screams and the rhythmic noise of sweaty slapping flesh trying to become one.

For him, this wasn't about making love anymore: this was primal, this was him marking you as his forever.

You were close – you could feel pleasure, so euphoric, thrumming within your body; your walls were now clenching him harder than ever, and every thrust of his sent jolts of electricity into your abdomen. So close, so close…

From behind you, he commanded, "Now, be a good wife and come for your husband."

And so you do; you came, so much harder than the first, screaming only your husband's name into the night. His thrusts became more erratic, his cock pulsed inside you, while your thighs quivered, your walls clamping down on him. With a thundering growl, he found his release, and sent ropes and ropes of his seed inside your walls, filling you up to the brim with it while you milked his cock for more. He whispered your name like a prayer against your hair, and bit down on your shoulder as he pumped the last of his cum within you.

It was ecstasy, dizzying and overwhelming.

As with all highs, however, came the lows, and for you, it couldn't get any lower: you were helpless, tired, and underneath a husband who was still inside you as you caught your breath and realised just how low you'd sunk.

"My love, you were exceptional," he said with a kiss on your shoulder, right on the spot that he bit when he came. Just as he pulled out of you, you felt some of his spend leak out, so buried your face in the pillow in absolute shame.

You did this to get some of your life back, but even the reminder didn't make it any easier.

You felt the bed move, and your husband shifted beside you.

"I am, however, nowhere near sated," he said with a smirk. "I am not done with you. Now, kindly get on your hands and knees for me, my good wife."

You could only whimper in protest at the way his insistent hand gave your ass cheek a good squeeze. He helped you get on all fours, then positioned himself behind you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit before plunging its entirety inside your aching walls with one forceful thrust.

Just this one night, you reminded yourself, then everything will be fine.

***

You were limp, sore, and exhausted beyond anything. After the seventh orgasm, you've lost count of how many more your husband had managed to force out of you, and your thighs were slick with the cum he had pumped inside you. Morpheus didn't seem to mind the mess you were making on his thighs as you sat on top of him with your legs spread to accommodate him and clung onto him with your arms around his neck, your aching body sprawled on his chest. The only thing anchoring you to your horrendous reality was the jolts of unwanted pleasure being sent into your core brought about by his ceaseless upwards thrusts, spreading all across your body and overstimulating all your nerve endings.

"One more for me, my beloved, you can take one more for your husband," he had kept saying.

When you orgasmed, it was rapture in almost every sense – you buried your face at the crook of his neck and blacked out for a few microseconds, only to be pulled back to consciousness by the warmth in your core courtesy of his spend inside you, and the mighty groan he let out as he, too, found his release. You actually cried softly in relief as he halted his movements.

It was over. It was over.

You thought you were going to end up sleeping in that position, but he rolled both of you over on the mattress and the pillows so gently, as if he had not just spent the entire night ruthlessly taking your virginity.

He manoeuvred you so you laid on top of him and you could hear him coo into your hair in a language that seemed familiar but you couldn't quite understand.

Whatever it was, it was oddly comforting, and along with being drained with every ounce of your energy, it was enough to lull you into sleep.

He didn't even have to use his sand.

***

You were jostled awake by fingers softly raking your hair.

As soon as your eyes opened, you were greeted warmly with ocean-blue eyes that held a multitude of galaxies. Despite waking up draped on top of a husband that you didn't really ask for, you had hope for the first time since he had spirited you to his realm. In just a few moments, you'd be back to work, just like nothing ever happened.

"Good morning, my precious little saviour," he greeted with a gentle smile.

Your lips moved, but it wasn't quite like the smile he had on. "H-hey," you greeted back as you placed your palm on his chest and pulled away as much as he allowed you to. "Uh, about our deal…"

"Hmm. What about it?" He asked idly, fluttering those enviably long eyelashes at you.

"I'm free now, right? You'll take me back to my world, and everything should be exactly as I left it."

You couldn't quite sit up, as he had his other arm around your back still trapping you to his naked body.

"Indeed," he hummed nonchalantly. "I gave you my word of returning you to the Waking in the condition that you give your heart to me fully and willingly."

You swallowed your nerves down, which were piqued for some reason. If he was playing around, he needed to quit it. Work started at nine, and you didn't really want to be late.

"And I did," you insisted. "Now, keep your promise and let me go."

There was a palpable tension as he let go of you and allowed you to finally pull away. You changed your mind about sitting up, fearing you'd pull a muscle with all the strain your body took from last night's activities. He sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, and faced you with a sombre expression.

"I'm afraid you did not fulfil the terms of our agreement, my beloved."

Did you see this coming from a mile away? You should've, said that nagging voice at the back of your head. What else could you have missed?

"Yes, I did," you countered, your voice faltering a little. You sat up abruptly, regretting it the moment you did. All your muscles screamed in protest, and you winced at the sudden pain between your legs. Ignoring it, you continued, "I did…I did everything you asked. You said you'd free me if I did… all of this."

"And I would have," he replied, tucking a strand of your messed-up hair behind your ears. "Had you offered yourself unto me entirely. The ring on your finger shows otherwise."

He took your hand that held the ring just as soon as your eyes were on it. The white in it seemed to swirl ominously, and you didn't like the way it seemed to respond to the man who gave it to you.

"The jewel on this ring detects your heart's pure desire," he explained, his finger tracing the stone. "It was partly imbibed by my sibling's power, and partly mine. My sibling, Desire, agreed to make the ring with me, signifying a truce between us and our realms."

He kissed the back of your hand before he released it, and you took it back and nursed it as if he just stung you.

He simply went on, "Should your heart submit to me in absolution, the jewel would burn blood crimson. Alas, it has not shifted colours the entire night you laid with me."

This wasn't happening. This must be some sort of ploy to get you to stay, right?

"Now, I do not mind in the slightest, my love," he droned on, ignoring the fact that you were now frozen in place and in disbelief. "I have an eternity to win you. But as far as our agreement is concerned, I cannot let you leave."

He lowered his timbre at the last part of his sentence for emphasis.

"So all of this was for nothing?" You asked blankly and gestured at the mess of sheets on his bed.

This can't be happening.

"My love, if it wasn't for you, my sibling and I would still be in a disagreement." He cupped your cheeks in praise, flashing you a proud look. "This was essentially your first act as queen: bringing peace between the Dreaming and The Threshold."

You snapped out of your dazed trance and swatted those hands away. You had a deal and damned if he won't fulfil his end of the bargain. He must be playing mind games with you – that was the only plausible explanation.

"Enough of your games, Morpheus," you spat out. "I married you, I slept with you. You gave me your word. I demand that you take me back to my place!"

But Morpheus merely raised his eyebrow at your outburst.

"I believe you are in no position to demand anything."

"You took everything from me!" You screamed, now fully realising the shithole you've just dug yourself into. You agreed to this, and he tricked you, using your vulnerability to his advantage. The worst part of it was, he had you played right from the get-go. "I have nothing left! I had nothing going for me but your word, and now…a-and now…"

All that frustration you had for him and yourself had to be released, and you did it the way you knew: you burst into tears.

Your mom and dad. They'd never see you again.

The nightmare that called himself your husband gathered your shaking form in his arms and whispered words that were supposed to comfort you, but you struggled against him and hit his chest repeatedly. He drew your face to his chest by wrapping his hand around your head and planted kisses on your hair.

"You planned this, you evil fucking cunt, you tricked me," you yelled against his chest. "You can't keep me in here…please let me go…"

"What kind of husband would I be if I let my own wife roam the Waking and live in a condition clearly beneath her royal status? No, such squalor does not befit you. You deserve to be worshipped, and I shall, my queen, until I cease to be."

"Morpheus," you tried to implore. "Please just let me go…"

But his grip on you never wavered. "I will never release you," he growled against your hair. "You belong to me for eternity. Now, I grow tired of this petty argument."

With a swift movement, he laid you on your back, climbed on top of you, and placed a hand on your throat.

A warning.

Even with tears blurring your vision, you saw his expression quite clearly. Wanton hunger and obsession took over his features, his eyes darkening and bleeding to black, just like they did when he first invaded your life with that confession you had rejected.

"You, however, my lovely wife, I will never tire of…" he whispered darkly. "Exhausted and bruised from our previous love-making, filled to the brim and dripping with my seed… just how you always should be."

You could only watch, helpless and unable to move in fear, as he pinned your wrists with one hand above your head. He slipped two fingers inside your still-sensitive walls without breaking eye contact, and withdrew it, donning on a satisfied smirk. You pleaded with him as he parted your legs with his knees, but even you knew your begging would fall on deaf ears. He had taken everything from you, and he was about to take more – with a single thrust, he was inside you again, and with a groan of pleasure he buried his face at the crook of your neck, whispering only one word again and again:

Mine. Mine. Mine.

With every last bit of hope leaving your exhausted body and mind, for the first time since he imprisoned you, you started believing him.

***

Morpheus was in a state of utter ecstasy.

First, his plan had worked. He was aware that you weren't in the right state of mind to fully give your heart to him, let alone make the change overnight, and the ring he sought from his sibling as reparation for their past falling out had worked spectacularly, allowing you to walk right into his well-laden trap. You had given him no choice – it was a necessary move to finally seal your fate with him for eternity.

Second, he had himself fully sheathed inside your heat, drawing out all the pleasure he could derive from your union, and you underneath him writhing in the throes of passion with your moans and cries echoing in his chambers.

Third, he just had a glimpse of the ring on your hand, that token of your devotion to him, and him alone, which began glowing in the lightest, most imperceptible shades of pink.

His joy amplified at the sight. He captured your lips with his as he thrust wildly into your throbbing flesh – you, the precious little mortal that inadvertently saved him with but a small act of kindness, was now in his arms, his, and you had nowhere else to go.

********************************

Wasn't too satisfied with the ending, but please let me know what you think! This may have been the filthiest smut I have ever written, even if I have written only a handful of them lol

Also, forgive me if there were any errors, I shall edit this as soon as I can!

Tagging:

@morpheuss1mp

@alexander-arcturus-black

@typical-bistander

@ladyredstar1991

@moonmaiden1996

@musemaniac42

#dark!dream x reader #dark!dream x you #dark!morpheus fic #dark!morpheus x reader #dark!dream threeshot #dark!dream of the endless #dark!morpheus fanfic #the sandman #the sandman fanfiction #A Small Act of Kindness Series #A Small Act of Kindness Pt 3

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