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baby-yongbok · 4 months

Text

Call me, baby

Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre - Smut, slow(ish) and then boom porn - Strangers to lovers (non-idol)

♡ Word Count: 7.6k

♡ Summary: Welcome to Rockstar tattoo and piercing, where giving a beautiful stranger and eyebrow piercing can lead to the best fuck of your life.

♡ A/N: I started this as soon as photo's of Hyunjin with that damned eyebrow piercing came out. I am EXHAUSTED the horny took over, I'm ruined and now maybe you are too. 😭 I wanted to have this be a bit of a slow burn type of thing just so there could be some build up and longing ya know? I don't usually draw things out this long but I wanted to give it a shot. 💕Please enjoy it, I worked hard and I'd love to hear feedback. I also only lightly edited it for right now, I'll look over it again later! Gosh I'm exhausted. + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

♡ Warnings: Pain slut Hyunjin, Descriptive piercing process, Biting, Hair pulling, Appearances by Lee Know, unprotected sex (safe sex is good. be safe ya'll) Oral (f&m receiving), nipple play (kinda? & not for too long + reader has nipple piercings)

✧ Masterlist ✧

“Hey, man. Welcome to Rockstar tattoo and piercing whatcha lookin for tonight?” Minho, your ex and fellow co-owner of the shop asks as that familiar jingle rings through the empty shop. You’re too busy cleaning up your space to listen in on what the new customer wants. You’re sure that it’s something simple since it’s close to midnight and all that gets done this late are simple piercings and tattoos that people will regret in the morning.

“Baby, you got a customer up front.” Minho calls as he makes his way over to his station. The name prompts a fake gag and an award winning eye roll as you move across your station

“Do not call me that, ew.” The echo of Minho’s chuckle makes him sound closer than he is as he rounds the corner of the wall dividing your spaces. You’re a two person crew so you get to spend every second that you’re in this shop with your ex which wouldn’t be so bad if he and his new girlfriend weren’t all over each other every chance that they got. You love the girl and they’re a much better match than the two of you ever were but it’s been so long since you’ve been with someone that you feel like they’re just teasing you at this point.

“You used to love that.” With folded arms he leans against your side of the wall and you turn to him with a hand on your hip while the other one is full of supplies.

“And I used to love you.” He hisses, holding a hand over his heart with faux pain in his eyes.

“Ouch.” You throw an empty ink cap at him and you both laugh. “Well since you don’t love me I’ll be right back.” He walks over to the front desk, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and heading out to the front of the shop.

“Where the hell are you going?” You whine, running up behind him. He turns to face you with that mischievous glint in his eyes. Does he really need to go get his dick wet right now?

“Seriously, Min!” He laughs at your incredulous scoff as he throws on his jacket. “If I’m not back in an hour, close up for me, yeah?” With a quick wink and a smirk he rushes out of the door before you even have a chance to protest. You know that he’ll be back, he always comes back but you still want to give him a piece of your mind. You flip him off as you watch him pass the large front window and he kisses back at you. You love that you two had a clean break but god does he get on your nerves.

“Asshole.” You mumble under your breath as you look down at the form on the counter. “Hyunjin?”

You hear shuffling in the very far corner of the waiting area as you flip through his paperwork.

“That’s me.” You smile down at the clipboard once you hear his voice, at least he’s not some rude wasted guy. “You can come with me.”

When you look up your jaw nearly hits the counter, is beautiful even the right word to describe this man? You don’t usually have a type but if you had to pick one it would be the man standing right in front of you. “ Uh, hey my name’s Y/n, I’ll be piercing you tonight and it uh-”

Gosh, his eye contact is intense, how does he do that? “It says here that you wanna get a horizontal eyebrow piercing?”

“Right.” He shakes his head as he rocks back and forth on his heels and you nod.

“Awesome, it should be pretty quick, let’s do this.” You unlock the swing door and allow him back into your station. You decide to close the privacy curtain that separates your space from the rest of the shop since the chances of anyone else coming in is close to zero, you’re not as accessible as the shops close to town so this is the quiet hour for you.

Hyunjin watches as you start collecting the supplies that you’ll need. You move carefully, making sure that everything is just how you like it. “Have you been doing this for a long time?” You hadn’t even noticed the way that he seems to be nearly looking over your shoulder this entire time.

“Long enough.” He smiles at your shy laugh as you pick a marker from your cup. “We’ve owned this place for about three years.”

“You and your boyfriend?” You scowl at his words, pulling a chuckle from his chest. “I guess he’s not your boyfriend.”

“He’s my ex, we already bought this place when we broke up so I couldn’t escape him.” A dramatic sigh follows your statement as you motion for him to sit down on the chair in front of you. “We're friends now, best friends, but I am a single girl.”

Hyunjin cocks his brow, causing you to accidently draw a line across his eyelid. “Sorry about that.” He chuckles and you smile at the soft sound.

“It’s alright.” You clean him up and the feeling of his gaze burning into you makes you smirk. You’re more than used to clients staring at you, there are some that will try to make an ungraceful pass at you while they’re at it but for some reason having Hyunjin stare at you so intensely is welcomed? Maybe because he’s cute. That definitely helps. “Ready?”

“Ready.” You mark him perfectly this time and point him towards the mirror to check if he likes the placement. “Perfect.”

“Awesome let’s stick ya then.” You motion him towards your reclined chair and he gracefully fills the spot with his tall frame. “You’re not scared of needles are you?”

“Not at all.” The smirk on his face as he stares up at the ceiling catches you off guard. You’ve never seen anyone smile at the thought of getting stabbed before. You wipe your hands and snap on your gloves before moving in front of your rolling tray where all of your supplies are set up. “Did it hurt when you got yours?”

“Nope, but that’s probably because I did it myself.” You grab your scissor clamp and move next to Hyunjin. “Okay, so, the steps are to clamp the site, pierce it, feed the jewelry through and then you’re out of here.”

“Sounds easy enough, go ahead.” You nod leaning over him gently. This is the first time in all of your years as a piercing artist that you’ve felt self conscious about the deep V cut of your shirt. You usually couldn’t care less but right now you’re almost hyper aware of the way that you’re presenting yourself to the man in front of you. You’re also hyper aware of the way that he’s staring right at the lacey red of your bra that’s peeking out, or is it the studs of your nipple piercing pressing against your tight cotton shirt that’s caught his attention? Either way, the way that he’s staring is causing something that you haven’t felt in awhile to stir deep in your stomach.

“Gonna clamp you now, it shouldn’t hurt but just take a deep breath anyway.” You whisper as you turn his head a bit to get a better look at the piercing site. Now he’s really got a good view. He’s perfectly still as you clamp him and you praise him for every little thing that he does right, he seems to take a liking to that since every time something sweet comes out of your mouth he hums with contentment.

“Ready for the stick?”

“Go ahead.” He licks his lips while his gaze is still trained on your chest and you can’t help but to push your thighs together. He seemed to have noticed since a ghost of a smile adorned his lips right after.

“Breath in.” He follows your instruction and you position the needle right at the mark only pushing a bit to prepare him. “And out.” He was an easy stick, it went in perfectly. It was smooth and quick and he definitely hissed a moan when you did it. You stay in place, leaning over him with the plastic needle still in.

“Everything good?” The sound of his moan rang through your ears as you avoided eye contact with him. He hums a confirmation, his eyes are shut now and his bottom lip is between his teeth. Good god. Did he not notice or does he just not care? Does he have a thing for pain? “I’m going to uh- feed the jewelry through.”

You move his head a bit, trying to find the best position for the light to hit him. Why is the lighting so shitty all of the sudden? “Everything alright?” There’s a slight chuckle in his voice and you sigh.

“Yeah I just can’t get a good light right now. It’s like my damn shadow moved in the way.” You move a bit back and forth but nothing is comfortable enough. “Can I like… could you just move your hip over a bit?” He does as you ask immediately and you swiftly prop your knee up on the chair.

“Thanks, that's so much better.” You grab the jewelry, and wedge it into the plastic needle for the feed through. “You’ll feel a bit of pressure, it might sting okay?”

“Mmhmm.” Just as you’re about to move the needle you feel the soft brush of his fingers on your inner thigh. That had to be an accident right? Do you want it to be an accident? Not really.

“One, two, go.” You slowly feed the jewelry through and this time a soft grunt leaves his lips but that’s not all. You freeze when you feel it, glancing down at Hyunjin while his eyes are still closed and his fingers grip the flesh of your inner thigh. “Good?”

“Great.” It’s a miracle that you didn’t moan at the feeling of him grabbing you but you decide to thank whatever higher power saved you instead of thinking about what if’s. One thing’s clear though; he definitely has a thing for pain.

“Let me just -” You reach over to your rolling tray and his grip on your thigh loosens but he doesn’t let go. “- Just gotta put the ball on the end.” You secure his jewelry, screwing on the end and wiping it down with bactine.

“Done.” He sighs but he doesn’t move. You look down at him, expecting him to say something, but he stays silent. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the electricity that having his hand inches away from your heat is causing. “Wanna look at it?”

He nods, finally moving his hand, now maybe you can breathe normally. You both move at the same time but he sits up much slower than expected. “Feeling good?” Hyunjin hums as he adjusts his pants and makes his way over to the mirror, leaning in to get a good look at the new accessory.

“So good.” Yup, he has a pain kink. It’s confirmed.

Once you’ve cleaned up all the immediate things and rid yourself of your gloves you move over towards him slowly. Usually you’d make small talk but you don’t feel too capable of doing that with the way that your core is pulsing with need at the moment.

You watch as he studies the piercing. You should be looking at it too but you can’t focus on anything but the sharp beauty of his features and the way that his wine red hair falls against his temples and compliments the blush running up his neck. As much as you try to stop yourself you can’t help but indulge in taking him in further. You can’t help but to let your gaze run down the length of his strong arm and admire the way that his black sweats are hanging from his hips. Your eyes linger on the hem of his pants for a second too long and that’s when you notice it. Right below the perfect bow of his drawstrings is a delicious bulge that you desperately want to show attention to. Your tongue darts out, licking at the corner of your mouth a bit as you eye him. Snap out of it, come on.

“Think I should get a tattoo there?” Your eyes snap to his reflection but he’s already looking at you. Fuck, did he catch you staring? Of course he did, it was so obvious. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

His smile makes you feel like you could explode at any second but you decide to try a bit harder to contain yourself. “I think that could be hot.” Fuck, no no no, why did you say that.

“Hot? You think so?” He cocks his eyebrow just like he did earlier but this time the gold stud adorning his thick brow makes a shiver run up your spine and sends a spark to your clit. He was already hot without the piercing but now it’s just unfair.

“Uh yeah, I do.” Before you can try to turn around and make your escape from further embarrassing yourself he turns to you.

“Would you do it?” His eyes are focused on yours and for some reason you can’t find it in you to look away.

“Do…your hip tattoo?” He nods and you shift your weight as you imagine the process. Could you even stand to be that close to his dick? You’re standing in front of him right now and you feel like you could combust from the eye contact. Surely you’ll melt if you end up having to stare at his hard dick for hours while he gets off on the pain of your needle for a second time.

“I would.” Your answer leaves your lips in a half whisper before you can even think about it but the smile that pulls at his lips makes you forget your prior argument. “Just let me know when.”

“Do you have a card?”

“Up front, I’ll give it to you with your care instructions.” You find yourself glancing down one more time before attempting to blink away all of your horny thoughts. As much as you want to fall to your knees and relieve him of his pain induced hard on you have to keep it professional, even if you were just caught staring at his dick print. “You paid when you came in, right?”

Quickly, you make your way around him to open your curtain and lead him to the counter. “Yeah I did.” You can feel him close behind you as you unlock the swing door to let him out.

“But you did such a great job.” The slam of the small door behind him makes you jump a bit but his following question is what really did it. “Do you take tips? Or could I give you more than that?”

You choke a bit on your inhale but at the same time there couldn’t possibly be a hint of oxygen left in your body with the way that he’s looking at you with his arms crossed and leaning on the counter. Your brain isn’t working anymore, it’s completely smooth as you stare back at Hyunjin’s cool smile. Hell, if he’s offering you’re going to take it.

Just as you’re about to calculate your own suggestive reply that familiar jingle echoes off the walls and your gaze lands on none-other than your godforsaken ex. He eyes you as you stand behind the counter with red cheeks and your palms spread and pressing into the desk.

“All good?” He looks between you and Hyunjin with raised brows. You force a smile as you frantically scan the desk for the care instruction packet.

“Yup, all good.” The sigh that follows your sentence is less than convincing but Minho lets it slide in the name of trusting you. You turn your attention back to Hyunjin who’s eyes were already on you. “So here are the care instructions. Don’t change it for about two months and uh, just make sure to keep it clean and um yeah everything that you need to know is in here.”

He takes the packet, brushing his fingers against yours in the process. Hopefully the way that you shivered wasn’t too obvious. Are you really that down bad? Usually you’re witty and flirty, you tend to have a pretty smart mouth with customers but as soon as you saw Hyunjin all of that went right out the window.

“Your card.” He nods towards the display on the desk and you quickly grab one for him.

“It has the shop number and my instagram on there. If you want to contact me directly, Instagram is the best way to do it but I’m here almost everyday. If I’m not coming in, I'll post it on my story.” He flips the card between his fingers allowing you to get a good look at what you wish were still grabbing at the tender flesh of your thighs. Your focus breaks when he rubs the card between his fingers and a second one falls to the counter. “Oh, must’ve given you two by accident.”

“So I’ll message you.” Standing straight he slips the card into his pocket. “If I have any questions.” He takes a step back, taking you in one more time.

“Yeah, I’ll answer as fast as I can.”

“Baby, did you use the last of the caps?” Minho calls from the storage room and the scoff that follows makes Hyunjin laugh.

“Stop calling me that for goodness sake.” With the flash of a quick smile and mumbled goodnight you leave Hyunjin at the front and head over to your annoying cock blocking ex. Once you get to him you see him leaning against the storage room door with his eyes on his phone screen. “I thought you were looking for caps.”

“Nah, figured that you needed me to save you. That guy should’ve been gone already.” Did he seriously just ruin any chance that you had at getting laid tonight? And by a man as hot as Hyunjin at that.

“We were talking.”

“You don’t do small talk.” Minho’s pinched brows earns him an eye roll as you head over to your station. “So he wasn’t bothering you?”

“Far from it.” The way that you’re aggressively cleaning your tray gives Minho all the hints he needs but it would be out of character for him to just drop the topic.

"Then what was he doing?" Minho asks in his teasing tone that you’ve grown to be more than familiar with. You pause and sigh as your mind lingers on the feel of Hyunjin’s fingers gripping you and the sounds he made with each hint of pain.

"He was trying to make me interested."

“Was it working?” The silence that followed his question spoke louder than any words could. “His number is on the form ya know.”

“Just lock up, Minho. I’m not breaking any privacy laws just so I can get fucked.” He throws his hands up in surrender, backing away and heading to the front. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to try and contain the many emotions running through you. You should’ve been on your game tonight but Hyunjin just threw you off. You haven’t been that attracted to anyone in so long that all of your skills went right out the window as soon as he looked at you. Maybe he’ll message you? Ask you a question or two and then ask you out. What if he doesn’t? What if Minho scared him off and you never hear from him again?

“Baby.”

“Lee Minho, stop calling me -” You pause when you turn to him, looking down at the card he’s offering you between his fingers. “What?” He extends his arm to you further, earning his third eye roll of the day as you snatch the cardstock away from him.

“It’s my card.” You shrug at him.

“Turn it over.” Your pulse picks up a bit once you notice the red ink on the back of the card. Hyunjin’s name and number is written in pretty symbols right across the middle with a small note. ‘Call me, baby.’

“I’ll stop calling you that now.”

Sleep didn't come easy last night but you sure did at the thought of Hyunjin. It doesn't help that you texted him immediately and he didn't waste a second before replying to you. Your night was spent getting to know him a bit as your mind danced on the idea of him fucking you into your mattress. The amount of time that you pretended that your fingers were his slender ones while you answered one of his questions is actually award winning. The taping of your cum covered fingers against your screen went on until you tired yourself out and fell asleep while waiting for his next text.

“Going out.” Minho looked up from the sketch book in front of him just in time to watch as you grabbed your jacket from the chair next to his.

“Did ‘baby’ call?” For the first time in a while you find yourself smiling and unbothered by his teasing. “She's smiling, did you finally catch a dick.”

“I'll let you know in a couple of hours.” The look on Minho’s face isn't one that you see often but it's your absolute favorite. “I'll be back, baby.”

You barely got to knock twice before the door to Hyunjin’s apartment swung open. He looks just as good if not better than he did last night and the fact that you’ve gotten to know him a bit better over text for the past couple of hours makes you feel like a college student sneaking into someone's dorm after curfew. It’s safe to say that you have a big fat crush now.

“Hey, nice piercing.” He pulls you into a quick hug before ushering you further into his place. Your eyes wander across his walls, taking in every detail. He really is the artsy type.

“Thanks, some girl did it for me last night.” He watches you take in his space with hungry eyes, no matter how much he tells himself that he just met you and that he wants to take it slow he can’t seem to pace himself. The amount of times that he came into his fist last night just thinking of how pretty your nipple piercings must be and how your thighs would wrap perfectly around him is insane. Unfortunately, the orgasms didn’t put out the fire that burned for you deep in his stomach, it only made the flame bigger.

“Oh yeah?” You face him as you peel your jacket off slowly, letting it slide off of your shoulders and down your arms so gracefully that he couldn’t possibly ignore it. “Was she hot?”

His eyes fix on the fabric stretching tight against your chest, how dare you call that a shirt. It’s keeping little to nothing to the imagination but he can’t say that he’s mad at it. “So fucking hot, I couldn’t stop staring at her.”

Your jacket finds a home on the arm of his couch while you check out the paintings on his living room wall. The stretched canvas and sheets of beautifully stained paper are littered all over the ivory wall, serving as the only real means of decoration in this area of the room. “Do you think that she noticed?”

The energy around you turns electric as he steps up behind you, just close enough not to touch you. “I hope that she did.”

“Why?” Your breathing is slow and shallow as your eyes run across the colors of the paintings on the wall. You’re not really taking in the beauty of the art anymore, you’re more concerned with the masterpiece standing behind you and what he’ll say next.

“So that she doesn’t feel surprised when I say -” He leans into you, fiddling with one of the paintings and pressing himself lightly into your back. A blistering heat washes over you at the feel of him against you. It’s so much more than you imagined it to be. “- That I think that she’s beautiful.”

He reaches for another painting, stepping forward just a bit to be closer to you. “And that as much as I want to take it slow and get to know her -” He slowly retracts his hand, stepping back and breaking all contact. You sigh, swallowing hard as you hang on each of his words. “I just can’t go another second without knowing what she feels like.”

You turn your head to the side, catching a glimpse of his burning gaze as he stares down at you. His dark eyes are undressing you before he even gets the chance to touch you. Something like you did to him yesterday. “I think that she’d feel the same way.” It’s a bit of a challenge but you manage to hold eye contact with him as you turn your body to face him.

“You think she’d let me touch her?” Eyes, lips, chest and repeat. That’s the pattern that his gaze follows while he waits for your answer.

“I think she wants you to, so so badly.” His eyes meet yours and his hands are on you in an instant, grabbing at the plush of your waist and pushing you against the wall of art work behind you.

“Thank god.” He whispers against your lips before attaching them in desperate hunger. The sound of paper and canvas falling to the floor is merely background noise in the heat of the moment.

He’s soft and sweet like honey, his touch is like satin against your skin and your head is fuzzy. Holy fuck. He swallows the moan that escapes you as you welcome his tongue into your mouth, offering his own sinful sounds as a counter. His hands are grabbing at the exposed skin of your stomach while he pushes your shirt up to expose more of you. Your hands fist the fabric of his shirt, you want him closer. You need him closer. He pulls away abruptly, staring down at you panting and flushed. He takes a step back and you take a step forward.

“Think she’ll let me fuck her?” He continues to step back from you and you match each move that he makes. Your hands find the bottom hem of your shirt and you pull the fabric over your head, revealing your flimsy lace bra to him. A hiss falls from his lips as he falls back into his couch. Sitting with his legs spread and ready for you, the perfect seat.

“You better fuck her.” Once you climb onto his lap his lips are back on yours in an instant. The kiss is hungry, desirous, passionate. It’s everything that you knew it would be and more. His palms rest on your breasts, kneading the flesh and flicking at the heart studs of your nipple piercings. A shiver runs over you at the feeling and Hyunjin smiles against you at the reaction.

“Sensitive?” He mumbles, following with a kiss and you nod with a deep moan. “Fuck.” He pushes your breast together, jiggling them in his palms while he watches with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I wanted to see these so badly last night.” You knew he was staring. “Wanted to run my tongue over these pretty little studs.”

“What’s stopping you now?” You grind your hips into him, milking a choked moan from his throat. He’s so hard underneath you, his sweat pants are doing little to restrain his pulsing cock from pressing into your needy core but even that bit of pressure is not enough to satiate your hunger. His fingers peel down the lace of your bra and you watch as his tongue dips out of his mouth and swirls the silver jewelry. “Hyunjin.”

He hums, content with the way that his name sounds falling from your pretty lips, it’s then that you remember last night. Praise and pain, those are his things right? Let’s test it out.

The feeling of his tongue laving over your sensitive peak breaks you out of your thoughts and fogs your mind all over again. He shows both of your breasts equal attention, wetting your nipples with long drags of his tongue followed by a skillful swirl of the muscle around your shiny silver bars. “ So good, oh my god.” He hums, sucking a bit harder at the sound of your sweet words.

Your fingers lace through the wine red strands of his hair, scratching and rubbing at his scalp for a bit until he grazes his teeth over the sensitive peak of your nipple. You’re pulling at his roots before you can even process it but the pornographic moan that escapes him as he falls into your touch makes you happy that you did it.

“A pain slut?” Matching smirks paint your faces but his is quickly swept away when you bring your other hand up through his roots and pull again. “I knew it.” You grind into him, the moans escaping him are making you hungry for friction all over again.

His hands grasp your hips, gripping you so tightly that you’re sure there will be beautiful bruises there in the morning. “What gave me away?” His eyes stay on yours as you hold his head back by his hair. Yesterday his gaze was blinding but tonight you find it easier to handle the heat that it causes to rise on the surface of your skin. You’re okay with going blind if he’s the last thing that you see.

“Hm.” His eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your lips ghosting over his pulse “Maybe it was the way you moaned when I stuck you.” Sloppy kisses and small nibbles of his milky flesh draws a moan similar to the one that’s been playing in your head all night to leave his blushed lips.

“Or the way that you grabbed my thigh.” Your teeth sink into the flesh of his neck and the sound that he makes in response is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot. “Or how hard you were when I was finished.”

“Do that again.” So biting is his favorite, huh?

“Say please.”

“Please, do that again. Bite me, harder. Please let me feel that again.” He’s begging? You’ve never been with a man who was willing to do that. A mumbled praise makes his cock twitch against you as one of his hands slips down to your ass, gripping the cheek firmly but not squeezing. Your teeth sink into his neck again, a deep guttural groan escapes him while his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass through your jeans. “Oh, baby.”

You pull away at the feeling of a warm spot beneath you. When you look down at your clothed cores the sticky wet spot presents itself to you. He came just from you biting him and he's still hard. No fucking way.

“You made a mess.” A familiar darkness falls upon his gaze and now it's your turn to moan from the grip he has on your hair. “Clean it up for me, angel.”

You crawl backwards off of his lap, lowering down onto your knees as his grip in your hair ensures that your eyes stay on his. He shimmies his pants down with his free hand, your eye contact falters for just a second so that you can steal a glance at his cock. He’s bigger than you thought he’d be, long and curved ever so slightly. The angry red tip is glistening with cum in the low light, you run your tongue along your lips at the thought of sucking him clean.

“One day you’ll give me a pretty tattoo right here, won’t you?” He pulls your hair towards him, controlling your head so that you lean into his hip. You plant a sloppy kiss against his skin, nipping and licking like a desperate puppy. His cock twitches at the feel of your lips on the newly discovered patch of skin. “I’ll be hard as a rock with your pretty face so close to my cock.” He moves your head over just enough for you to lick up some of the cum from his flawless thigh.

“You think you could do it? Think you could be that close to my cock and not put me in your mouth?” Little does he know that you’ve already thought about it and the answer is no. Hell no, absolutely not. “Maybe it would be me who loses control.”

He yanks back on your hair, lifting your head back up to meet his gaze. He brings his bent pointer finger to your chin and runs his thumb down your swollen lips. “I have a feeling that I’ll be addicted to this mouth.” His eyebrow piercing catches the light as he stares down at you and you can’t help but to feel turned on by the fact that you did that to him. You’re responsible for that pretty stud on this pretty man.

“Let’s see if I’m right.” You open your mouth eagerly once he sits back and guides you over to his waiting cock. A hiss escapes him once you take him to the hilt, swallowing around him with watery eyes. He marvels at the way your pretty lips stretch around him, taking every single inch of him until his tip makes your throat bulge and your mouth water. You bob your head, licking and sucking him clean. The taste of his cum is so sweet, so perfect, maybe you’re just insanely horny or maybe he’s your new favorite candy. The only thing you’ll have a craving for from this point on.

“That throat is taking me so well.” The vibration of your hum makes Hyunjin bite his lip as he watches you. You bring your hands up to his naked thighs and claw your nails lightly down the exposed skin. His cock twitches in your mouth and your pussy throbs at the feeling of it. You’re a big fan of foreplay, it’s super important and fun and everything but you would do anything to skip all of this and simply feel Hyunjin’s cock sink into your dripping pussy. “This is what you wanted yesterday isn’t it? This is what you wanted when you were staring at my dick?”

The deep rasp of his voice as he asks such filthy questions makes you press your thighs together, Hyunjin moves his foot in between your knees. Kicking your legs apart and taking away the relief you were chasing.

“Need me now?” Your desperate gaze up at him is all the answer that he needs. He lets go of your hair and you slowly come up off of his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip a bit and releasing him with a string of spit still connecting you. He offers you his hand to help you up off of your knees before dropping to his own right in front of you.

With a burning gaze on your naked stomach he unbuttons your jeans and slowly drags them over the curve of your hips. His eyes scan every inch of newly exposed skin, leaving sweet soft kisses against the silky skin of your thighs. He takes a deep breath before pulling your panties down, his hands lingering against your bare skin as he admires your body. He leans in and places a soft kiss against your exposed center once you step out of your panties. What was supposed to be a simple kiss turned into a few kitten licks against your clit which then quickly evolved into long drags of his tongue through your folds while he palms your ass.

“Hyun- Hyunjin holy fuck.” Your fingers thread into his dark strands again, lightly pulling at his roots and milking moans from him. “Please fuck me. Please just fuck me I want to feel you.”

“Gotta get you ready.” He spits onto your clit, watching it drip down your lips a bit before catching with his tongue and spreading it over your folds. “I need my girl dripping around my cock.”

His lips wrap around your clit and you throw your head back in a silent scream before looking down at him. His eyes are closed as he laps at your pussy, sucking and licking like his life depends on it. You admire the shimmer of his fresh piercing as you watch him, pathetic whimpers falling from you as he dangles your orgasm in front of your face. You’ve been thinking about him for hours and now you’ve finally got him. You get to cum on his tongue and watch him slurp up every drip of your essence.

“I’m gonna cum, oh my god.” Your grip on his hair tightens and he hisses against you. He swirls his skilled tongue around your swollen clit a couple of times and you can feel the blistering heat setting all over your body. You’re so close, it’s so good and then he pulls away.

“Hyun-” Your whine is cut off by the soft yet aggressive feeling of his lips on yours.

“I want you to cum on my cock.” The taste of your pussy on his tongue distracts you from the feeling of him guiding you to the couch. He pushes you down, watching you with a smirk as he pushes his damp hair out of his face. You watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, balling it up and using it to dap at the sweat on his forehead before throwing it to the side with the rest of your clothes. “Do me a favor.”

His fingers dig into your plush waist as he positions you. He props his knee on the soft cushion, lining himself up with your entrance and teasing your sopping folds with his leaky tip. “Anything.” You fist the pillow right above you, placing it under your head to get a bit more comfortable.

“Call me baby.” He slips into you before you can even reply to him, stretching you out so deliciously and filling up your gushing pussy until his tip kisses your cervix. The moan that echoes through his apartment is high pitched and airy, your lungs burn from the electricity charged air as you cry out for him, gripping at the couch cushions as you try to ground yourself.

“Baby.” The first time that his hips snap into you his jaw clenches and his eyes roll to the back of his head. His imagination barely did you justice last night, his fist is nothing compared to the way that your pussy is clenching around him. The ungodly squelches of his cock plunging into you sends shivers down his spine.

“Fuck, you’re heaven.” He coos, the rasp in his voice makes your pussy clench around him as he presses your thighs back towards your chest. Hyunjin picks up the pace, snapping into you with unholy force.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything but your own fingers and it’s been even longer since you’ve been fucked this good. Not even Minho can top this and he was the best fuck you ever had. The mascara stained tears running down your cheeks translates all of that to Hyunjin without you having to say a word, it’s not like you could say anything but his name even if you wanted to. Your orgasm creeps up on you again, dangling in front of you like bait for a fish.

“Hyun - Hyunjin please don’t stop. Gonna cum gonna -” You cry out as he slams into you, filling you to the hilt and staying as still as possible. “Please please, ‘s so close please.”

“Not yet, baby.” he beckons you with two fingers, motioning for you to sit up. He helps you up, shifting your position so that you’re on top of him. You clench around him at the movement and he hisses at the tight feel of you. He’s close too but he wants you to fall apart on top of him. He wants to see you fall apart up close so that he can fuck his fist to the memory of it for days after.

“Ride me, come on.” A firm slap to your ass makes your hips buck into him as you start to move along his length.

You’re fucked out, chasing your pleasure desperately on top of a pretty man with a pretty cock. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you against his chest when he suddenly starts fucking up into you. He’s impossibly deep and you find yourself gasping for air against his shoulder. Moans and grunts fill the hot air as you fuck each other. For each thrust into you, you grind down on his cock, keeping him deliciously deep in your cunt. Your teeth mindlessly graze over the slope of his shoulder before you bite down into him. Bite, lick, suck. That’s the pattern you follow, over and over again. Making him sing for you as his fingers caress your spine.

“Come on, you can do it harder than that.” He gasps when you accept his challenge, biting into him with a bruising force. His thrusts become more erratic as he nears his climax but he’s determined to let you soak his cock before he pulls out. “Look at me, baby.”

He leans back into the sofa and his hand moves between your bodies once your eyes meet his. His middle and pointer finger rubs circles into your clit while he ruts up into you “Yes yes, yes ‘s so good.”

“You like my cock, pretty girl?” The fog in your brain is so thick that you can’t help but to babble as your orgasm climbs up your spine for the third time tonight.

“Love it. Love cock, you -you’re cock. Hyunjin, ‘m gonna cum o-on your cock.” He thought that you were breathtaking before but watching you cock drunk and fucked out while you’re bouncing on his dick might be his favorite way to see you.

“Go ahead, cum on my cock.” With a few more sloppy thrusts your body trembles against him as you come undone on top of him. He fucks you through it, keeping his fingers pressed against your clit as you squirm on top of him. Your vision goes white and there’s a ringing in your ears that blocks out every word of praise that falls from Hyunjin’s lips. The only thing that you can register is the pressure of his cock as he simultaneously abuses your cervix and clit.

“Hyun- fuck fuckfuck. So much. Too much.” Once you find the strength to open your eyes you're met with Hyunjin smiling up at you with pinched brows. “You can take it.”

“Pull my hair, baby.” Your trembling hands find their way along the familiar path of his scalp seconds after his request. Pulling at his roots with a delicious force that makes Hyunjin’s eyes roll back as he licks his lips.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” Moans and whines fall from you nonstop as he fucks into your swollen and sensitive cunt, the wet sound of your arosual where Hyunjin’s cock disappears into you echoes off the walls until he stops, breath hitching in his throat. “Come here.”

His hand is in your hair before you can protest, lifting you off of him and onto your knees. Your cunt feels so empty without him inside of you. “Gonna let me cum on those pretty tits?”

“Yeah, yeah please. Wan' your cum, baby.” He throws his head back, pumping his slick cock in front of your face while you mindlessly slur praises for him. “You’re so fucking pretty, please let me have it. Please, I wan' Jinnie’s cum.”

“Baby, baby, cumming. I’m fucking cumming.” You both watch as thick ropes of his cum paints your breasts. Dripping over your nipples and the shiny studs just how Hyunjin pictured it last night. “Shit.”

Your panting fills the room as you both take a second to come down from your high. Hyunjin offers you his hand, helping you up from your knees and catching you when you stumble a bit with a chuckle. “Let me clean you up so you can lie down.” He sits you on the couch, grabbing his sweats and pulling them on before making his way to the bathroom for a wet cloth.

You blink a couple of times, trying your best to adjust to the light around you. It’s dim but everything seemed darker in your fucked out haze. You settle against the armrest of the sofa, smiling like an idiot while the pulsing of your clit reminds you of everything that just happened. Who would’ve thought that an eyebrow piercing could lead you to having the best fuck of your life. Just as you allow your eyes to flutter shut you feel a heavy vibration under you. With a groan you lift yourself up and search for the source. It’s your jacket, it must be your phone. Oh my gosh, Minho! You sit up with all the strength that you can muster, unlocking your phone and checking your messages.

“Everything alright?” Hyunjin questions as he kneels in front of you with a warm cloth in hand.

“Yup, just fine.” You grin down at your screen before pushing your phone to the side and allowing Hyunjin to wipe you clean.

From Minho: Knew you weren’t coming back.

1K notes · View notes

pandoa · 11 months

Text

since childhood!!

you meet as childhood friends

~feat. twst housewardens~ ~twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader~

warnings: reader is not yuu/prefect and is different for each imagine to fit the setting of the boys (ex: reader is fae in malleus', merfolk in azul's, etc.)

if you want more childhood-like fics, i wrote one with ace and jack linked here!

♡the child you meet at a playground and never see again♡

Riddle Rosehearts couldn’t even remember how or when you had joined him, Trey, and Che’nya in their daily time playing outside the nearby neighborhood. He just knew that once he had stepped outside that day—sneaking out of his home during his study time—you, a strange, new child, had been mindlessly throwing a ball to Trey, giggling in the process. Any outsider passing by could have sworn you‘d already known the young trio for years. Odd, but the boy found himself not objecting to your time spent with him and his friends. You were somehow very comfortable to speak with, and Riddle couldn’t help but find your playfulness intriguing.

“Ha! I win again!” you jumped up and cheered with Trey and Che’nya sitting in a small circle as all three of you held up your hands in exhilaration.

“Congratulations,” Trey said, returning a proud smile. Resting on a grass-filled hill, the three of you helped yourselves to pass the time with a simple game that lasted longer than expected, if you all were to be honest. Riddle—insisting to only observe for the round—caught sight of the way your competitiveness mixed with Trey’s insightfulness and Che’nya’s natural wit. It was interesting. The way you easily conversed with everyone despite only meeting hours ago, he means.

“Hey, red-head!” you then called out to the young boy watching from afar, “Do you wanna play now? I can teach you the basics; It’s really just a hand game.”

Riddle contemplated for a second until walking closer to join the group, “... I suppose I’ll join.”

“Great!” you beamed, “The game’s called Concentration. Basically, we pick a category and all four of us have to go around taking turns saying a word that matches that specific category. Like if it was, for example, colors, then we all could say things like blue, orange, red—you get the gist of it.”

A nod then came from the red-headed child who was now seated next to you.

“The catch, though,” you continued, “is that you cannot at all hesitate when it’s your turn. So no pausing before speaking. This game’s supposed to be quick and fast. Got it?”

“I’m sure I do—?”

“Good! Let’s start.” With a swift clap of your palms, the game had begun as Riddle was practically pushed into the game with your excitement. Truthfully, he had not the faintest clue as to what he had been doing, but he supposed there was no harm in simply trying, yes?

“Hmmm, the category for this round, then, would be…” you squinted your eyes, appearing to be deep in thought, “Desserts! Go!”

“Vanilla cake,” Trey began.

“Truffles~” sang Che’nya.

“Strawberry tarts,” Riddle quickly replied.

“Crap!”

Crap?

“All this dessert talk made me remember that my parents wanted me to turn off the oven before ever going out! They’re really gonna kill me this time, I just know it!” you panicked as you suddenly explained your predicament, scrambling from the ground to get back up on your feet, “I gotta go, guys! Bye!”

“And don’t think any of you won just yet! It’s a draw until I say so!” you hollered out to the three boys as you left each of them bewildered and confused. Now only being able to see the back of your running form, Riddle found that, just as you had first met them that day, you had similarly disappeared with a clap of your hands like a ghost of a light at midnight.

Riddle wondered if he’d ever see you again. Sevens, he didn’t even get to catch your name.

♡the friend you sneak out with♡

“Why are you so slow? Get moving! I’ve seen sloths move faster than you, dumbo.”

The young Leona Kingscholar, having heard the ceaseless comments coming from your also young form, gave you a classic deadpan only he could display so perfectly within the empty gardens of the Kingscholar palace. No soul had been there as the only living creatures that remained were the critters chirping their music into the night and breeze of the gardens speaking back with delicacy. That, and everyone else within the grandiose palace had been rooms away, probably swaying to whatever music the Kingscholars had orchestrated for the ball that would take place that day.

“Yeah, well why don’t you quiet down a bit, hm? You’re hurting my eardrums,” the boy replied, rubbing his left ear in annoyance. For the amount of times you both had snuck off with each other, Leona had thought you would have caught on to the main rule of sneaking out: remaining as quiet as possible until it was safe to speak.

You’ve gotta be kidding me, the chocolate-haired boy thought.

Playfully poking at his side, you began an attempt to tease him even just for a little bit, “Aw, does the little kitty not like it when he hears my oh-so-wonderful voice?”

“Yeah. It’s obnoxious.”

“Hey—!”

“Shhhh!” Leona, albeit quite swiftly, suddenly placed a firm hand against your mouth, causing you both to halt in place behind an unassuming stone wall, “I think the guards are coming…”

Your heart began to race with anticipation. If the palace guards had managed to catch you two escaping a chance to socialize at a royal event, you would never hear the end of it from your families. “... Do you hear them?” a worried whisper mumbled from your nervous figure.

“Mhm, could you keep watch over here?” the boy said as he bent down on his knees, concealing himself whilst facing the other direction, “I’ll go look on the other side.”

Trusting your dear—and sometimes reliable—friend, you peeked your head out from the wall, keeping watch just as Leona said to do. The gardens had been practically deserted; a stillness in the way the gentle wind blew past the branches had almost convinced you that there was, indeed, no one there.

Was he just… seeing things? you questioned. But your beastman friend would never, right? His senses were probably a thousand times more intuitive than yours. He’d never make such an obvious mistake.

“Uhm, Leona? I don’t think I see any—” you started as your small hand reached out to tap the boy, but not without noticing the way he had been draped against the wall, seemingly knocked-out unconscious as a barely even noticeable drop of drool spilled from his snoring mouth.

“Leona, you lazy wimp!!”

♡the friend you see at one specific place♡

“Are you done yet?”

“No, (Y/n), I am not,” a young octopus-like boy stated as he simultaneously juggled numerous books and papers on all ten of his limbs, particularly focused on the words written on each page. He sat on his own within a shadow-crested octopus pot and looked as if he had not come out of the pot in ages, you observed. Concerning, but nothing new, you thought. “And I won’t be done until far later,” he said, scrunching his face together, “What do you want?”

You mindlessly began poking at a piece of coral, paying no mind to the boy’s slight sass to his tone. “Nothing~ I just thought I could find you here. Turns out I was right.” You watched as Azul helped himself to another book from his rather tall pile, closing another to add to his collection. “Studying again, I see,” a knowing look then escaped your form as your eyes lit with a teasing shine, “Plotting something against me, Azul?”

“I wouldn’t rule out the possibility,” he replied halfheartedly, “Especially if you keep coming here to disturb me.”

You exclaimed, feigning offense, “Never! I’m simply keeping you company.” The boy then peered up to you as you swam closer to him, reminiscing the earlier days of your friendship. “I still remember the first time I saw you here, crying on your own. The growth you’ve had since that day really is admirable—“

“Enough,” Azul shot you an annoyed glare, “It was already unfortunate for you to first meet me as tears welled from my eyes; there’s no need to sugarcoat the memory.”

Jumping at Azul’s assumptions, you worriedly began to amend any insecurities that struck the young boy beside you. “I’m not sugarcoating anything! And crying in front of me that day was nothing to be ashamed of. If I hadn’t heard your voice coming from the pot, I would’ve never come back here each day, let alone know of your existence in the first place.” You let your palm reach forward to hold his—quite soft—face, allowing your innocent touch to spread to him. “You have grown. But it’s okay to cry too, okay?”

“Alright,” Azul mumbled, face still remaining in your small hands. “Anyway,” he continued as he pulled away from your arms, “do you plan on returning home soon? Your family may worry.”

“No, it’s fine,” you shrugged as a soft ocean current moved past the locks of your hair, “I’ll stay here.”

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.”

Azul had gazed back at you, almost stunned. “If that is what you wish, then be my guest,” he complied.

You then gave him a gentle smile, “Of course.”

♡the friend you find when you are lost♡

“(Y/n)~! Wait for me!” Kalim said, hollering out to your speeding figure under the golden glow of the Scalding Sands as shadows of the plentiful buildings stretched out with the lowering evening sun. What time it exactly was, you did not know. All you had known was that there was still an ample amount of time for you and your new friend, Kalim, to explore the world around you—seeing as the young boy was just as excited as you.

“The town waits for no one, Kalim! It was made for adventure!” you shouted back behind you, almost leaving the white-haired boy for the dust if he had not caught up sooner. “If there’s one thing you should know about this place, it’s that! Or…” a thoughtful pause then cut between your rambles as you stopped in your tracks, “That’s what my grandparents always tell me, at least. Who knows.”

Kalim—who was now standing beside you—then gave you a grin that could send rays of sunshine to shame with its brightness, “Jamil always tells me to never venture to the town, though; maybe he just doesn’t know the kinds of fun that await here!”

“Eh, I know I’ve never met the kid,” warily, your hand began to reach for your other in concern for your newfound companion, “but this Jamil dude doesn’t sound too… fun.”

“Of course he is, he’s my friend!”

“I know he is, but look at us!” you said as you threw your arms up in the air, exclaiming, “We just met today after I saw you wandering off into Sevens knows where, but we still have fun! Jamil, on the other hand, sounds like he stops you from any kind of fun. What kinda friend does that?”

Kalim, still seeming to be unfazed by your concerns as he let out a laugh, shot you his millionth smile of that day, “He means well!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you muttered. “Anyway, enough of that! There’s this really cool area in the alleyways I know that’s perfect for—”

“Kalim!” an unknown voice was then heard not too far from the both of you, “Where have you been?!”

“Jamil! There you are!” the young boy to your left called out to the voice as the mysterious figure treaded closer and closer—but not without you tensing up with caution. “This is my new friend—” Kalim started, cheerily pointing towards you.

“I deeply apologize, but there’s just no more time to waste,” the unknown figure, who you now saw had long locks of dark hair, paid no mind to you as he fretted over your giggling friend, “You’re lucky our families haven’t realized you were gone just yet or I’d never hear the end of it. Come, now. We have to get back quickly.”

“Oh, okay!” Kalim swiftly replied as he waved back enthusiastically to you, “I’ll see you again, (Y/n)!”

Yelling your final goodbyes, you saw as the forms of the two children around your age hastily walked back to wherever their home resided, silhouettes following after with the sky setting in front of them.

Although despite the day concluding on its own, you never could understand why Kalim’s friend, Jamil, was so protective over him. Sure, you thought, the young boy could be a tad oblivious at times—that you could admit—but going so far as to act as a caretaker for the boy as opposed to being a friend? It’s not like Kalim was the son of a very impactful family that needed protection. He’s just a normal kid for Seven’s sake!

Right?

♡childhood rivals♡

Vil Schoenheit had had enough.

Why out of all the students who attended this dance studio, he had to be partnered with you? The young boy had always thought this, what with you two being dance partners despite the clear friction between the both of you since he could remember. The only reason Vil had ever found himself tolerating it was because of the sole fact of your dance instructor’s judgment. You were talented, he reluctantly admitted. And rehearsing with you out of all people would only benefit his own skills in the arts if he ever wished to get anywhere with his strive for perfection.

The pursuit of beauty knows no bounds, Vil thought as he adjusted the strap stabilizing his dance shoes.

“Vil!” a familiar—but scour inducing—voice then intruded on the boy’s preparation as he turned his face to look at your a-little-too-cheery-for-his-taste form. “It’s so nice to see that you’ve made it to today’s lesson! I remember you were absent last week because of an important commercial shooting, yes? We all missed your…” you halted yourself, unnecessarily emphasizing your words as if to discredit the compliments coming from your mouth, “treasured talent.”

Vil scoffed at your empty sweetness. “I’m sure you did, (Y/n).” The young actor tilted his chin up as if to search for his own thoughts while doing his best to cover the glare he dearly wished to give you at that moment, “Although, you’ll be out next week too, correct? I hear you’ve been casted in a children’s show as a special guest.” The blond-haired child then turned back to the straps of his shoes, mumbling to himself, “... That I also had auditioned for.”

Feigning ignorance to his bitterness, you continued carrying on the conversation with your precious dance partner—relishing the way he stared at you with envy at your obtained role in the process. “Ah, yes. Well, as you know, showbiz is showbiz, Schoenheit. Not all of us will get what we want,” you gave him a smile he could only read as a way to anger him even more. “Perhaps we’ll both be casted next time. That would be wonderful, would it not?”

“Indeed.”

A single clap from your instructor was enough for the entire studio to grow quiet, signaling the start of class as students began rushing to their places, “Alright, class, it’s time to begin! Places!”

You gave your partner a final grin as the room was filled with music to go with your warm up, “Don’t trip today, Schoenheit.”

“As if I ever would, (L/n).”

♡online friends who’ve never met♡

With technology constantly surrounding him, it was only natural for Idia to have met you in the online world. Where else would a shut-in like himself find some sort of social interaction he'd actually be willing to be a part of?

Gloomurai: korie! u wanna hop on midnite l8ter? live event drops tday

korie66: ayooooo korie66: im down. lez do it >:)

Gloomurai: nice Gloomurai: korie and gloomurai back at it again

Although, he supposed he didn't really know you. Sure, he knew the artificially curated version you would introduce yourself as within the chat logs on public servers. But he had never known the "IRL" version of you, let alone your real name. Still—Idia thought as he sat in front of his blue and black gaming set-up, monitor displaying another game he'd binge that night—it was still nice having a buddy to play numerous games with. A kid like him who had the same interests. A kid who also found freedom within the internet.

korie66: YOOOOOOO GLOOMURAI korie66: GET ON MAGITROPICA RN

Gloomurai: wht? y?

korie66: FREE STUFF

Gloomurai: DONT HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE

Both of your days were spent trading the best items, sharing tips for a new game level, or even just chatting for the fun of it. Each night Idia had even found himself eagerly shuffling to his room, shutting the door behind him, and turning on his PC just to make it in time for your scheduled co-ops.

Eventually, you and Idia had found yourselves much more open with one another as well; a certain kind of trust that could only form with the number of years you had played together. What was the point in finding real-life friends, the young Idia thought as he snagged a bag of chips to eat while playing with you, if he had you to spend time with instead? One friend was all he needed, and you filled that roll perfectly!

Gloomurai: YESSSSSESEES LETS GOOOOO

korie66: NICE GOING GLOOMI~~ WE TOTALLY BEAT THAT LAST BOSS LEVEL LMAO

Gloomurai: YEAH Gloomurai: FR THE BEST DUO

korie66: I SWEAR IM NEVER DITCHING U, GLOOMI korie66: CANT DO ANYTHING W/O YOU LOL

Gloomurai: U BETTER NOT HAAHAHAHAJ

This was all he needed. Your friendship was all he needed.

Idia—now a third year student and housewarden at Night Raven College—sighed as he closed the latest game he'd been playing, cracking his back as he stretched like cat waking up from a deep sleep. Determining it was far too early for bedtime, however, the young man had decided it was a good hour to clear out his PC's memory. It was about time. It had been a while.

Scrolling and deleting through file and files, memories, and unused downloads, Idia had found nothing of importance to him and trashed everything in his path. That is, until he spotted a familiar chat log that read UNSTOPPABLE DUO hidden deep within his message history.

The Ignihyde housewarden gazed at the chat name he knew all too well. A certain feeling then began to rise within his chest as his hand subconsciously guided his mouse towards the familiar icon of your profile picture, still the same as it was years ago.

This is a really bad idea, Idia voiced in his mind. Yet, despite being against his own actions, Idia watched as his own hand clicked your name—only to spot a sea of red text blaring through the screen as he peered at the pixels of his computer:

korie66: Last Active 10 years ago. . .

Idia slumped over in his chair at the text, dejected, "I don't know why I even tried."

Shutting off his monitor, the blue-haired boy then stood from his chair and begrudgingly marched back to his bed, concluding his late night. He hadn't known what he was even expecting, at that point. He'd long knew of your inactivity; it's not like he didn't know what he'd see.

It really was just a shame you never had a chance to meet each other, Idia thought. He supposed, though, that some people were never meant to truly remain friends, to remain together.

And you were no exception to that.

♡the friend you meet by accident♡

“OH SEVENS NOT AGAIN—”

“Hm?” Malleus, who had been peacefully reading a book during his break from his studies, suddenly peered up from his spot in the palace gardens at the alarming shouts coming from the sky. It had been a relatively clear afternoon; one with few clouds in the atmosphere and very few birds soaring above, which only left the young fae even more curious at the panicking screams he could catch from his place beside the flower beds. Gently placing his now discarded book down to the grass, Malleus then made his way closer to the figure as a blur of (h/c) fell from the sky and into a nearby bush.

Thud!

“Ugh, I knew trying that spell would be a total fail,” the figure, who Malleus could now make out as a fae child around his age, dwelled as they rubbed a couple bruises on their arms, healing themselves. “I guess this is what happens when I don’t listen to Mother, but—"

“Ahem,” Malleus cleared his throat, finally gaining the child’s attention.

“AAAHHH—” you screamed again, only this time with shock at the sight of another living being around you. “Gosh, don’t scare me like that! What if my magic went all kapooey on you?! What would happen then?” you scolded the rather tall boy as you stood up from your previously injured state—skin now pristine due to your magic.

“Hm…” the dark-haired boy before you contemplated your words, “Then I suppose going ‘kapooey’ wouldn’t be very good for me, correct?”

“Exactly! I’m glad we’re on the same page.” You turned your body away from the boy as you inspected your dirt-stained clothes, wincing at the rips caused from your fall into the bush. “I don’t even want to imagine what Mother would do to me if she found out I’d harmed another fae—another child at that, too! Although,” your eyes then followed up the fae’s face and pointed its attention straight towards the two black horns resting atop his head, “you do look a bit different than me… Where are we right now?” No other fae from where you were from had any such horns like his; you were sure of it! You must’ve landed in another land other than your own, if that were the case.

But where, exactly? You thought.

“Briar Valley,” the horned-boy swiftly replied, “The palace, to be exact.”

“Briar Valley?! I must have traveled further than I thought, then!” a frazzled exclaim escaped your mouth as you struggled with your hands to prepare whatever spell had gotten you there in the first place. “I have to go right away! So sorry for intruding, uh…” a hesitant pause ensued as you held out a hand to the child, signaling an introduction from him.

“Malleus. My name is Malleus,” he softly gave you a smile.

You returned his smile with a grin of your own, shaking his hand, “Right. Thank you, Malleus. I’m (Y/n).”

“It was no issue.”

And with your final goodbyes to the fae you’d just met, Malleus then stood and followed your form as you disappeared to Sevens know where. The only remnants left of your presence were the gold, sparkling specs of magic that remained after you casted your spell, filling the palace garden with dust that resembled stars scattered throughout the greenery. Malleus, at the sight of your magic, had then begun to wonder just where you had come from and why you had landed there that day as quickly as you left.

The chances of seeing you again were slim. Still, however…

“(Y/n),” Malleus had whispered to himself.

“A lovely name for a fae such as themselves, yes?”

a/n: ALL IN FAVOR FOR MORE RIVAL READER X VIL SAY AYEE-AYEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

god this was such a nightmare to finish iM SO GLAD I PULLED THROUGH THO I FR GAVE UP HALFWAY ESPECIALLY WITH IDIA'S-

889 notes · View notes

vhstown · 9 months

Text

miles g morales x you headcanons

— 42!miles x gn!reader (dating)

warnings: fluff, brief mentions of violence, angst if you squint

note: ok i know i didn't write him like a bad boy rizzful cool criminal bf but this is just my interpretation from the 1min of screentime he had 😭 i hope someone likes it? i don't really but it's ok posting anyway, kind of long a lot of ramble

wasn't edited previously but is now!

Miles has never dated anyone before, so naturally, he's never kissed anyone before. In fact, though he's reluctant, he asks his uncle for advice about you (just as a nephew in need, of course.) It's sort of hilarious to see the boy with such a cold and unbothered exterior try to flirt and make a move on you. When he asks you out, he nearly trips over himself trying to block your way, and nearly trips over himself again when you say yes. When you try to kiss, he freezes up, but eventually gets the hang of it. It's surprisingly sweet and careful; warm.

Miles is hesitant to date you — date anyone. It's a casual sort of thing at first; he doesn't want to get too attached. But what draws him to you is the fact that you can make his life feel so normal, so simple and in-the-moment. It doesn't take long for him to realise that this is what he wants.

He does everything in his power to keep his criminal identity a secret. When there's rumours going around about the Prowler, he's quick to shut down the conversation with vague, uninterested answers. He's not scared of many things, but he's scared of the only person he can really be Miles around leaving.

So, the boy tries his absolute best to be good to you. Yes, he misses dates doing God knows what, but he's quick to try and reschedule or show up to your door with gifts, food, anything he thinks might make you happy (despite your annoyance, he's really good at making it up to you.) When dates aren't working, he decides to take you on spontaneous ones, going around Brooklyn and wracking his brain for anything that might interest you or be nice enough for a date. Half of your date is usually spent walking around together, but it's more fun than you think to pass time together like that.

For the time you do manage to spend together, you notice he's very observant (he has to be to survive as the Prowler.) Miles remembers every little detail about you and what you like. Things you told him since he met you are still firm in his memory, even if it was something you said off-handedly or to somebody else. He's always surprising you with little things you mention: an accessory, dessert from the place you wanted to try ages ago, etc.

Miles is very aware of your interests and whenever he passes by related stores, he's always asking you if you want anything. You're the only person in his life other than his family; of course he's going to cherish you.

But the second thing Miles is worried about is his mom. He's very overprotective over his mom, understandably so. She's the only parent he has left and he knows she overworks herself trying to provide for them. He's always trying to help her when he can, doing chores and errands without question and per his uncle's suggestions, but if something was to happen to her, he'd blame himself for it above all. So when he introduces you to her, he's more than uncertain. It's not like you could do anything to her, but he's made it a habit to never fully trust anyone anyway.

That is, until he sees how Rio completely lights up around you. She's so thrilled that Miles has a friend (or whatever Miles told her you were.) Even though she can only talk to you for a few minutes before her shift, she automatically opens up her home to you, telling you that you can help yourself to the kitchen and come over whenever you like. She whispers a couple things in Spanish to Miles that you can't quite catch, and he doesn't care to mention.

But you can definitely guess what she keeps telling him. Whenever he brings you over, he acts aloof, almost awkward trying to follow what his mom says to make you comfortable. The house and Miles' room suddenly becomes eerily spotless whenever you're due to come over, and the cupboards are in complete order. Rio's always asking Miles where you are, and she treats you like you're her second kid. She's very aware that you might be in the future (though Miles keeps denying it.)

You catch glimpses of his uncle sometimes. He doesn't really talk to you, but the man is calm enough. Miles seems to be comfortable around him, but when he finds out, you can make out an amused glint in Aaron's eyes whenever he sees you. Miles doesn't take you to see his uncle; he'd rather you're not aware of the man's ridiculous way of teasing him.

Whenever you come over, you both make it a habit to snack, play videogames, listen to music, whatever you feel like doing. It seems like he's always trying to keep you there. Miles will never admit it, but he misses you a lot. All he really does to show that is pull you into a silent hug and kiss your cheek when he sees you again, asking in the lowest voice what you've been up to.

When you asked Miles about his interests, he tells you the ones he shares with his uncle at first — music, art, etc. But whenever you go into his room, you notice a bunch of empty shelves and hastily shut drawers. Miles never really shares his real interests with anyone (he thinks they're childish more than anything), but when you insist, he bedrudgingly takes out the figures, comics and posters, acting like he put them away ages ago and forgot about them (more 5 minutes before you came over, if it wasn't obvious from the way he was flushing.)

The two of you spend a while putting everything back. You ask him questions about it and he returns them with short answers. When you leave that day, his heart is full, and his jaw hurts from trying to hide his smile as he looks at his shelves filled with superhero figurines and comics. He won't be touching anything now that you've put them in place. He really can be himself around you, though he's still a bit reluctant.

On top of Miles' other "secret" interests, he likes drawing. He keeps a tiny sketchbook where he draws people mainly, and you catch glimpses of it sometimes when he thinks you're not looking. Half of it is ripped out (there drawings of his mom, uncle and comic book superheroes scattered around his room), but the faces that do remain are of his dad, unfinished. There's another drawing he's never finished in there too. It's been constantly erased and redrawn; it was meant to be you. Eventually, that page is ripped out too. You can't find it no matter how hard you look; it's in his jacket.

And at first, the boy was kind of awkward. He didnt want to hurt you; he knows he very well could. He usually let you initiate anything (though he's clingy as hell and was just shooting that feeling down as much as he could.)

When he does get more comfortable around you (especially after he's sure it's not just a fling), he's always kissing your cheek, forehead, your hair; his kisses are surprisingly chaste, sweet, much like your first one. He holds your hand often too, even if you're just sitting next to each other, fingers firmly locked together with the occasional squeeze to let you know he's still there.

But he's no short of a tease too. Miles always likes to say pretty things in Spanish just to get you riled up. Even if you might understand what he's saying, he says it under his breath so you can't catch it. Miles doesn't repeat himself, instead giving you that stupid cocky smirk you've grown to love (and hate.) Sometimes he lifts your chin to make his eyes meet yours, maybe to see you flustered too as he studies your face in silence, poker-faced, not responding to anything you're saying. You think he's being teasing, but he just really doesn't know what to say. You're his, and sometimes he just can't believe it.

What he really loves though is holding you close: his head over your shoulder or your head against his chest (or his against yours, with much pestering) so you can't see the way that he's smiling. As much as he wants to be the cool and distant boyfriend, he's a big softie, absolutely melting with your affection, always quick to return it with his own.

But when you're out, it's a different story. He's not only overprotective of his mom, but of you. It really shows when he walks you home. He keeps his arm firmly around your waist, giving dirty looks to anyone who goes even an inch too close to you. He whipsers "you okay?" and "c'mon" while basically directing you around.

Miles knows these streets better than anyone else, but he's not going to take you through quick back alleys. He'll take you through busy main streets, maybe stop by a bodega to pick something up for you if you're still hungry while he eyes every corner of the store, even go on the subway with you if you're feeling particularly lazy, your back to his chest with an arm around you so you don't fall. He's always muttering about being safe, and his street smarts definitely rub off on you; his advice is sound, almost too experienced for a random kid living in Brooklyn.

However, Miles won't let you find out. No matter how much he's juggling being the Prowler, his family and you, he'll make it work. He can't lose this, no way in hell. Even if he has to lie to you about his seemingly random injuries or ditched date nights, you'll never find out about that purple blur that skids past you when you're outside at odd hours. They're just rumours after all, he tells you.

🕸️💫👾

thank you for reading 😭🙏 i struggled w this one and hobie too but idk i love 42 miles he's just some guy fr .... im thinking of writing a friends to lovers fic w 42 miles but im not sure yet (im just really lazy but lmk if ur interested?) + thank you to @qiuweyballs for the inspo i hate you (endearingly)

if u liked this reblogs are appreciated <3 catch the rest of my atsv headcanons here! love ya

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whiskygoldwings · 8 days

Text

Anecdotes of a Guard Life: Oh honey, honey

Senate Galas were one of the... Less interesting parts of Fox’s job. Stand around, look imposing yet approachable and pretend he’s not sneering behind his helmet at all the drunken Senators. Other then the approachable part, it’s a cakewalk.

That isn’t to say they don’t have their perks. One being that he’s not doing datawork. The other... Well...

The internal comms crackle to life. “The Prune’s approaching the soapbox, operation Flavour’s a go.”

Fox calmly turns and walks towards the podium, placing himself in full view to the left. He tucks his arms neatly behind him, grasping wrists and sets his feet perfectly apart in parade rest. The Chancellor passes him with a “Commander! How lovely to see you!” and Fox salutes crisply, before returning to position.

“Decoy in place,” he reports, and gets a “Received!” in return.

The rest of his role in the operation is simple. Stand there and be obvious. It’s not hard. He’s well aware of what he looks like. White painted chest armour a beacon against all the red. Helmet sticking out amongst all the uncovered faces. There’s always a few Senators who dismiss the Guard along with the rest of the serving staff, but if one is looking for them, he draws their attention.

He’s also strategically placed himself under the slightly brighter light near the podium. Carefully orchestrated by their best engineers.

He’s pretty sure this is not what the Kaminoans intended when they flash-trained them in Infiltration methods. But fuck ‘em. They also debated engineering out their tastebuds so they would eat basically anything. Instead they just fed them that anything and expected them to like it anyway.

This is their own fault, really.

Thorn casually walks around the crowd, helmet facing out, checking for any signs of trouble. The hand facing away from the crowd twitches in a series of handsigns and Fox sighs.

“Thorn, comms work just fine.”

Thorn’s sigh is heavier. “Fox, have a little fun once in a while.”

“No.”

Several different snickers come over the internal comms and a noise that is very clearly Thorn blowing him a raspberry.

Fox rolls his eyes, safe in the knowledge that no one around him can tell.

“You did get that we’re halfway done though, right?”

Fox groans, just managing to keep from tipping his head back in exasperation. “No, I forgot how to read hand signals.”

“It’s all that caf, rots the brain.”

Fox doesn’t even dignify that one with an answer. Not all of them can be all flowers and sunshine first thing in the morning.

Actually, he has absolutely no idea how any of them can be like that. Thorn is a freak of bioengineering. Somehow they got away with their blonde hair, but Fox isn’t sure how the Kaminoans missed the disgusting morning cheerfulness.

Clearly something had critically failed in their tube before decanting.

He nods absentmindedly at a Senator who’s approached and is drunkenly thanking him for his “fine service”. A click of the tongue sets his helmet to circulating internal air, but it’s not quite quick enough to prevent the stench of expensive red wine from getting through the filters. Great. He’ll have to sit with that for a while.

The man is just slurringly getting to the point where he’ll ramble about how his planet’s taxes are funding the Coruscant Guard’s efforts when Thorn speaks again.

“Fox, Taa on route to point Alpha.”

“Apologies, Senator,” he has no idea what the absolutely kark-faced Senator’s name is, but the title always works. “I am required for an internal matter.”

He doesn’t wait for the man’s wide-eyed enquiries, simply turns away and walks towards the buffet table at the other end of the hall. He can already see Senator Taa weaving his way towards the buffet table, taking advantage of the other guests being distracted.

There’s a saying. One about smart minds thinking alike or something. Fox is a little less then impressed to find Senator Taa thinking along the same lines as them. He would not bet on Senator Taa against a Kowakian monkey-lizard.

“Senator, may I have a moment?” He slides infront of him, standing like a barricade in the path of the man’s assault. Senator Taa actually jumps a good inch off the floor.

Fox probably shouldn’t be amused at that. He is though. He was also recording it. That’ll make for good viewing on a rough Senate duty.

“Ah, Commander, must it be now?” Senator Taa looks anxiously over his shoulder, and Fox calmly sidesteps to block his view of the buffet table.

“I apologise sir, this won’t take a minute.” Fox clicks his tongue at the end of that, switching the outward going comms off.

A crackle of internal comms then “Understood, troops, one minute.” from Thorn.

They could be efficient and professional, when the need was high.

What followed for Fox, was an excrutiating minute of going over security plans he was already very certain of, and manouvering himself to prevent Senator Taa from slipping round him. The Twi’lek Senator was... Persistent, would be a good way to put it. Fox was the taller of the two of them, which was fortunate, as the Senator kept rising onto tiptoes to try and look longingly over his shoulder. He’s never tilted his head so much in conversation and frankly, his neck hurts. He actually resorted to raising up on his own toes at one point.

The things he does for his troops. Force damn the little fuckers.

He can see them in his peripherals though. Casually moving towards the long table set with food, as if on a floating patrol. He’s pretty sure he spots Thire carrying away a whole roast bird of some sort, and if that’s actually the case he might have to promote the cheeky little shit...

Finally, FINALLY, Thorn walks up behind Senator Taa with a “Sir!”. The Senator jumps again, and sadly, Fox wasn’t recording that time. He’s not entirely sure how a man can be so completely oblivious to everything going on around him, but it works for their purposes.

“Commander?” Fox enquires, and as the Senator turns to face Thorn, flashes a slightly-more-emphatic than he intended THANK YOU hand signal.

“The Chancellor has requested a further perimeter sweep.” Thorn intones, voice carefully modulated to project bored professionalism.

“Understood,” Fox looks back to the Senator and nods at him. “Apologies Senator Taa, we can discuss this matter further later.”

“Yes yes, mustn’t keep you from your fine work, good job Commander,” the Senator waves dismissively at him, then heads over to the buffet table with an air of victory.

Fox watches him go, then turns back to Thorn.

“Do you think he realises you’re the one who stopped him?” Thorn asks, a thoughtful tilt to their helmet.

Fox just sighs, and walks away to the sound of Thorn’s snickers in his ear.

------

He’s only able to review their proceeds after the Gala is completely done and over, made sure everyone has left for their own homes, and checked Senator Deechi isn’t, once again, comatose drunk under a table somewhere. He marches back to the barracks (alone, because he isn’t making any of his troopers stay at one of these stupid events any longer than necessary) and makes his way straight to the second rec room.

The sound of laughter and joy hits him as soon as he rounds the corner to the hallway, and he lets go of the tension with a grateful breath. Pulling off his helmet, he strides into the room, where troopers in various mismatches of bodysuits and armour are sprawled around a lumpy pile covered in a white sheet with CG stamped in red in the corner.

“Took your time!” Thorn waves at him, grin wide and delighted. “Deechi wasn’t passed out again, was he?”

“Thank the Maker, no,” Fox rolls his eyes to chuckles from the others. “You waited for me?”

Thorn rolls their eyes right back. “Duh, get your shebs over here.”

Fox goes and sits next to them, then promptly gets back up when Thorn tries to side-arm him into a hug and goes to sit next to Comm who snickers at the pair of them. Thorn pouts. It’s a good pout, full and wide-eyed, but Fox has developed immunity to their banthashit and graces the attempt with a middle finger.

Thire sighs loudly and exasperatedly. “If the two children would kindly settle down, the adults would like to check out the spoils of battle now please?” He glowers at the pair of them, and Fox glowers back, showing him how it’s done.

Thorn reaches forward and grabs the edges of the blanket. “My friends, my family, my wonderful idiots! Enjoy!” They whip off the sheet with a flourish, and there’s gasps and noises of joy as even Fox feels his eyes widen.

They’ve outdone themselves. There’s little squares of delicate crisp bread with curls of meat pate. Glistening honey-coated carrots roasted to perfection. Candied nuts and fruit sitting powdery in a bowl. The roast bird he’s going to have to make Thire a commander over. And even...

“Is that sugar?” Fox breaths, picking up the beautiful ceramic bowl filled almost to the brim with beautiful, wonderful, white crystals of perfection...

Someone passes a steaming hot cup of caf over his shoulder and holds it out for him. “Commander,” Stone murmurs, a warm smile on his face as Fox turns to him. Comm holds out a small spoon, and Fox is not an emotional man, but he kind of wants to kiss the whole kriffing room at this point.

“Thank you,” he sniffles, taking the proferred mug (and decidedly doesn’t care that it’s the pink one with a Fox-head that Stone got him as a joke) and places it in front of him. With gentle fingers, he takes the spoon from Comm, gets himself a hearty heaped spoonful of sugar, and stirs it into the inky-dark liquid in his mug.

Reverently, he lifts the mug to his lips, tilts it gently and... Oh...

“Mesh’la,” he whispers, eyes closed and lips curving into a smile in the wake of the sweetened nectar of the little Gods.

There’s laughter all around him, and he opens his eyes to the sight of his family, all taking carefully selected pieces of food and trying them out with noises of glee and excitement.

Fox sits, sipping his delicious cup of caf, and thinks life doesn’t get much better than this.

#Mesh'la = beautiful #shebs = arse #I headcanon Fox having a sweet tooth #And sweet coffee makes life bearable #His troops always make sure to get him some #one way or another #marshall commander fox #coruscant guard #coruscant guard as family #star wars: the clone wars #fanfiction #my fanfic

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tired-biscuit · 2 years

Text

18+ mdni. fem!reader.

“Fuck.”

IT’S the only word Naruto says as you sit down on his cock and make that first bounce that makes all of his blood rush south: fuck.

The curse is simple; breathless. Perhaps it could even be considered as uncharacteristically timorous for a man as talkative as him, but it nevertheless slips past his parted lips and hangs in-between the hot air between you without any sort of restraint. You swallow it down with the help of your tongue twirling around his own. Outright devour it.

Your favourite boyfriend you’ve ever had so far is panting as you lift your hips up and ever so slowly drag them back down so that you can fuck yourself even deeper and push him further inside your wet warmth than you did the first time around. He groans at the sensation of feeling your walls show love to his dick at long last; his foggy blue eyes rolling into the back of his head the moment he tips it back into the backrest and just moans.

The broken sound sends a chill rushing down your spine. It's nearly electric: how riddled with raw, relentless emotion it is. You’ve been dating for nearly six months, and you still haven’t grown tired of hearing it. Truth be told, you doubt you ever will get tired of it.

You suppose that he’s just that charming.

And besides being charming; he is needy as well. So fucking needy, but you’re needier. Transparent, glimmering slick gathers on the inner side of your thighs and clings to the skirt of your pretty dress as you repeat the movement and roll your hips against him to make you stick even more closely together in the already cramped-up space you've wound up in.

“Goddamn, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grits out through clenched teeth as you pick up your pace. “You’re gonna make me bust s’hard, pretty… Gonna let me fill ya up? Yeah?”

“Naru, baby,” you sigh his pet name out, finding purchase on his broad shoulders. “You know that i-it gets… Messy when you do that.”

“I know… But I wanna.” He pauses for a second before he kisses your neck. “Please? I’m beggin’... Nnh, wanna cum inside you s’bad.”

He’s drawing in every breath like it’s sacred as he readjusts on the worn backseat of his equally as shitty car. It's a lousy, old thing he's bought with his own money that he's saved up while working a boring summer job at the nearby gas station before starting his first year of college, but you can tell that he's proud of it. Immensely so.

Proud, because it offers some sense of privacy that his house certainly isn't able to provide; taking his kind, but slightly nosy mother and equally as curious father into consideration. As much as he loves them, Naruto can’t help but feel slightly annoyed at how they've somehow managed to succeed in ruining every intimate moment between you ever since he’s introduced you to them.

After all, passing by his room whenever you swing by for a visit, his parents are armed with snacks and those wide smiles that make him feel embarrassed that he’s even brought his girl home in the first place. And never mind the kindness; it's their blindness that gets on his nerves!

Both Kushina and Minato seem to be utterly oblivious to the sheepish, slightly panicked smile you offer and the not-so-subtle eye roll their son gives whenever they interrupt you giving him a handjob underneath the blanket, or him being knuckles-deep inside your puffy cunt instead. And not just that, sometimes it's just a hot make out session in general, one that could very much lead to something more, if it had not been meddled with by his mom and dad.

And maybe that’s why he’s so happy he bought the damn car. He can go anywhere, anytime. Can take you on dates somewhere you haven’t been to before. Can fuck you like an animal in it, too, and not be afraid of how loud his moans get and how rough that, just as quick pat, pat, pat turns as he begins to slam home.

So, that’s how you find yourself at an empty parking lot at one in the morning that night; with your body entangled with your lovely boyfriend’s, and with his tongue dancing inside your mouth with such ferocity that it makes you think he’ll swallow you whole. He’s texted you to sneak out just so that he can get his dick wet. As lewd as it is, you can’t lie that it makes you feel flattered in some messed-up, slutty sort of way.

And you truly do feel like a slut; squeaking and breathing hard whilst getting smashed by his demanding cock like this. Do feel like a little whore as he spreads his legs just a little bit wider and wraps his large hands around the back of your thighs so that he can get a better grip on you. So that he can get himself balls deep inside of you and just start pounding the shit out of your poor pussy as you continue to ride him just because he's spammed you over text of how badly he needs you to do it.

His mouth is red and tender from all the kisses you’ve shared with him so far - bottom lip outright swollen from the way you keep nibbling on it and sucking it into your warm mouth to stop it from quivering. Still completely dressed, his sweatpants are tugged down just enough so that he could get inside your dripping pussy as quick as possible. The sleeves of his orange hoodie are rolled up to his elbows - one slightly higher up than the other, he’s that impatient - and the white t-shirt underneath has rode up so far his stomach that you're blessed with a nice visual of his sweat-coated abs; which you can’t help but trace your fingernails over, of course.

He clenches them whenever you look down and wiggle your hips on top of him. You're not sure if he's doing it on purpose - let’s be honest, any cocky nineteen-year-old would like to get a chance to show off such a vigorous, tight physique - but you certainly aren't going to complain about it. He’s just too pretty whenever he gets inexplicably horny like this.

Especially when he smiles up at you dazedly; the whites of his eyes glossy, and his pupils so, so big, and he whimpers out,

“Please lemme cum inside. Pretty please.”

#naruto x y/n #naruto uzumaki #naruto smut #naruto uzumaki smut #naruto x reader

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acapelladitty · 6 months

Text

Anamnesis (fic)

Pairing: Edward Nygma/Jonathan Crane

Summary - Trapped in an abandoned house with his partner, Edward is quick to find out that not everything is truly as it seems.

This fic is part of a stunning collab with the wonderful and thrilling artistic talents of both @enigmamuse and @plushievash as part of a fun Halloween exchange. Their amazing artwork can be found using this link 🎃

The scent of damp tickled Edward’s nose as he sought refuge in the smallest of the upstairs bedrooms, one which neither he nor Jonathan seen fit to visit before due to the scale of the weathered damage in the old walls. Having stepped into the bedroom, the ghostly sheets which covered every inch of the meagre possessions drew a sharp shudder from Edward’s lips as his left palm pressed into his right shoulder harshly.

“Does it hurt?” Jonathan asked. Pulling his mask free of his face and tucking it below his armpit, Jonathan dipped his head slightly to investigate the source of Edward’s wound. The metal had torn through the suit like butter, leaving a messy hole in its wake.

Edward pulled his palm away, the skin disturbingly wet and coated with crimson. “Yeah, but it’s not too deep. A few inches possibly but I still have full mobility. I’m more concerned by the rust that coated it and what, exactly, knocked me onto it.”

“You should be thankful,” Jonathan muttered as he stood with a collected calmness which made Edward’s panicked state even more clear, “that it was only the shoulder which you clipped. Had you fallen more awkwardly, we would not be having this conversation. A fall can be a terrible thing.”

Remaining stubbornly silent as the fear which simmered in his chest recalled the unnatural strength of the shove which had sent him sprawling to the floor, the only noise to escape Edward’s lips was a pained grunt as Jonathan tore free a length of his shirt used the length of fabric to wrap his shoulder as best he could. His hands were firm and clinical, taking care not to aggravate the wound while also sparing very little care to ensure that he avoided the worst of the pain.

It was a touch Edward was familiar with, very similar to the type of affection which Jonathan often deigned to give him, and Edward felt oddly dizzy as he pressed the back of his head against the wall.

“Do we have a plan for escape?” Edward asked.

“The doors and windows are all rotted, incapable of being opened without a key. You may have to search for something heavy to smash through one of the weaker doors.”

Having sought refuge in an old farmhouse after a plan gone horrendously wrong, the pair had passed out on the moth-eaten furniture which sat in the living room. Awaking in the dead of night, Edward had been the first to notice the changes to the house – panic making his voice loud enough to draw Jonathan from his restless sleep.

An agreement to split and search every inch of the house had started out well, but things were brought to a screeching halt when something attacked Edward in the living room, pushing him to the floor and causing a discarded metal frame to pierce the front of his shoulder. His yell had echoed throughout the house and Jonathan had appeared immediately to investigate.

“Smash through?” Edward scoffed. “With my shoulder in tatters and your meagre strength? We might as well take two of the kitchen knives and end it all now. Would be preferable to being attacked by that thing again.”

Thing.

Edward himself wasn’t even sure what it had been.

“Are you worried something terrible will befall you, Edward? Some terrible accident? Something to splatter those vast brains across the floor?” Jonathan’s lips settled into a fine line, his tone playful in a way which made Edward’s spine stiffen. It passed quickly though, as Jonathan was quick to gain his composure. “But now is not the time for petty squabbling, Edward. All debts are paid in the end.”

The words were simple yet something in them chilled Edward’s blood and he narrowed his eyes at Jonathan – who only watched him back with a blank expression.

A crash, the cadence like something dense being knocked to the floor and shattering into parts, made Edward startle in place as he pressed against the wall of the small bedroom - the noise sounding as though it came from the attic, high above.

“Do you think we’re alone here?” Edward whispered, using a great amount of control to keep his voice even and without tremble.

“No.” Jonathan answered. “Something is coming, and you will need to face it at some point, I fear.”

Edward paused, anxiety striking at his chest like a glancing blow. “You?”

“We.” Jonathan corrected with a mirthless smile, one which exposed the slightest hint of teeth. “It was my mistake.”

“Then we should check the next bedroom.” Edward insisted, ignoring the tickle of guilt which snared itself around his neck. An odd feeling which made his footing feel light as he shifted forward. “There is nothing here we can use to so much as create a dent in the walls.”

Baring his teeth, Edward opened the bedroom door slowly to prevent the creak of the rusted hinges. The floor beneath their feet was old and in the early stages of rotting; every floorboard feeling less stable than the last as he crept to the nearby room with all the tension of a church mouse who sought to escape a particularly furious cat.

In the corner of the hallway lay a spider web and Edward watched with bright eyes as the sizeable creature skittered across the wall to safety – all the while seeming to watch the pair with unseen eyes. Opening his mouth to comment on it, Edward’s words caught in his throat as a harsh thump sounded out from the space behind his back.

Whirling in place, Edward turned to see an empty hallway.

A look of uncertainty flittered through Edward’s panicked expression – his boyish features twisted into something that did not sit well on his face – as he paused long enough to stare between Jonathan’s vacated space and the stiff door of the next bedroom.

The darkness of the hallway took Edward’s breath away as his eyes widened in the gloom, determined to seek out anything which he could focus on as his panicked fingers scraped at the wall space beside the door – desperately attempting to locate the light switch.

Finding none, he instead focused on the flashlight in his hand; breathing a sigh of relief as the light flickered to life, a single beam of light offering some scant illumination to the decaying space.

Heart thudding in his chest, Edward watched with horrified eyes as the flashlight in his hand stuttered after a moment and went out. His throat tight, he shook the plastic hard and almost sobbed out his relief when it shot back to life. However, his peace was short lived as a sharp crack of screaming floorboard sounded in the darkness of the corridor behind him and he whirled around in an instant.

Edward, his hand as heavy as steel and yet unable to stop shaking, brought the flashlight up to the gloom and the frantic rhythm of his pulse stopped for a moment as the light illuminated the deep void of blackened eyes to reveal the beast which had attacked him earlier and continued to stalk him through the old house.

The tendrils of fear which crept around his heart chilled him from the inside out as wide eyes watched the beast approach.

Its face was inhumane, bearing a terrible hint of familiarity within the look of pure hunger which radiated from its dark eye - the black void of iris only punctuated by a slight orange tinge where the dim light caught it. The other eye was missing, replaced by a ragged hole. Skin, translucent and grotesque, sat around it and it lay over flesh so pitted that certain areas appeared littered with holes, giving a peek of the raw, pulsing flesh below.

A mockery of hair sat atop the beast’s skull. The straw-like material thin and a shade of deep brown which made something within Edward's stomach turn as he gazed at it.

It almost looked the same shade as-

No.

It was impossible.

Denial stabbed at Edward’s heart, but his gaze could only remain frozen on the ragged hair for so long as the humanoid beast opened its maw to expose what lay beneath.

A single row of sharp teeth, like a collection of short swords, jutted free of the creatures’ gums and their off-white colour was contrasted by the vivid red which stained the tapered end of each tooth – the evidence of a recent violence which made Edward’s stomach lurch. Just above, a hole sat where the nose should have been and only the slightest hint of cartilage remained.

Its movements were a twisted mess. The heft of the creature moving jerkily; almost like a human dangled on the end of a marionettes string as each limb appeared to fall limp in the moments where it was not required for immediate use as its extremities crawled along the floor.

Something in the uncanny flexibility made Edward's stomach turn and bile rise at the base of his throat. It was a living corpse - puppeteered by a darkness which made the air dank and stale, every breath making his lungs recoil. It pulled itself along the floor, shambling without thought as each limb moved of its own accord towards its prey.

Jonathan's movements had always been jerky and unpredictable. A talent which accented his thin frame and kept his victims in a decent state of anxiety as he used his uncanny frame to his advantage.

But this.

This was a mockery - something profane - and every nerve in Edward's body screamed just how wrong it all was.

"Edward."

A single word and yet the terror which shot through Edward's chest was almost enough to pause his heart. The voice did not seem to come from the lips of the creature, but rather from within in; somewhere deep inside its rotten chest where no air could naturally flow.

His eyes dragging themselves up from the stomach, Edward gripped the flashlight so tightly that the faintest crack of the plastic trembled through his fingers.

“Jo-Johnathan?”

Holding his attention, the skin of the Jonathan-shaped creature seemed to shift and roll, eventually splitting open at the scalp to reveal a dark cavern where the skull should reside. Cracked open and revealed, the revulsion in Edward's stomach reached a new peak as the scent of blood pressed at his nostrils.

“You did this.” The beast accused, continuing its painfully slow movement through the corridor. “You did this to me.”

“What?” Unable to stop the tremble of his hand, Edward watched the beam of light shiver against the rotted skin.

“You left me. Like this.” The beast tilted its head, showcasing the tear in its skull with a grim determination. “You saw me fall…heard me scream…and left. Ran…coward. You ran here…to hide.”

Every short, broken sentence was a death rattle; the words grotesque but alluring in a way which Jonathan was very skilled at. A spider attempting to lure in a very sophisticated fly.

The echoes of a scream, something filled with genuine terror, ripped through Edward’s mind. A scream of surprise. A sharp crack of metal. A horrified yell ended by a definitive thump which Edward had not investigated.

A sound of a plan gone horribly wrong.

A sound of a lover, lost to the smashed skull from which his life cracked free.

The stench of death - reeking from the breath of the beast - washed over his face and, unable to stop the fuzziness which pressed at his senses, Edward felt his knees give way as his vision dimmed and his mind rejected the fragmented memories and collapsed into blissful unconsciousness.

#scriddler #riddler #scarecrow #edward nygma #Jonathan crane #riddler x scarecrow #edward nigma #gotham rogues #batman villains #riddlecrow

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nattinatalia · 1 year

Text

Urban Wyatt x Reader : A LITTLE BUMP

You wake up to your phone ringing, you ignore it and go to the restroom to wash up and do your morning routine.

You then head towards your daughter's room and see if she is awake but notice she’s not in her bed so she’s most likely with your husband getting into some trouble.

You find them in the living room, toys scattered all over the floor. “You Wyatt’s are destroyers, I left the living room cleaned last night before bed.”

Urban and Cassie look up at you smiling.

“She did it”

“He did it”

They both yell out quickly. You shake your head and smile, “What are you guys in the mood for breakfast?”

“We already ate babe, you’ve been stressed lately so you needed the extra rest.”

“Aww thank you baby.” You look at your daughter then back at your husband. “What did you make? It better not have been noodles again, you stay eating those. Se te van a pegar en el estómago.”

“I don’t know what you said but, no, no noodles this time. Made some simple scrambled eggs. Left you a plate with that chia pudding you like so much.”

“Thank you.” You sit down on the carpet next to your daughter who’s playing with her toys and eating some cut up strawberries. “Let me just sit with you two for a bit.”

“Mama look.” Cassie says, showing me a drawing, “I painted you, daddy, me and Teddy.”

“Wow baby, That’s a beautiful drawing.” You look around, “Where is Teddy at?” asking for your dog.

“We let him out to pee real quick, he had a very heavy breakfast.” Urban says, pointing at Cassie.

You nod, understanding what he meant. Your phone keeps ringing for the sixth time so you decide to finally check it.

You open up all the text messages your brother has sent you. “Este loco que.”

“What happened?”

“It’s Carlos, He’s been blowing up my phone all morning.” You go to the text thread and see a bunch of links he has sent you. “Wh- what is this?”

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” Urban asks, trying to peek on your screen.

“Umm” you stand up from the floor

“Babe, Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You don’t answer him and head to the kitchen. You click on the links and see pictures of her and your husband.

You read all the different articles.

“Y/N what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Urban asks, as he walks to where you’re at.

“Have you checked your phone today?”

“No, why?”

“You haven’t been on Twitter or Instagram?”

“No, first thing I did was check on Cassandra and we came downstairs. I haven’t had time to be on my phone, why?”

“This is trending, my brother sent me all these different links.” You show him what you were looking at and he laughs.

“Oh that’s funny.” He takes your phone and scrolls through it, shaking his head. “This is a new one.”

He looks at you smiling but notices the worried look on your face. “Wait, you don’t believe this crap right?”

You don’t answer him right away, “Y/N, you actually believe this? What the fuck?”

“N-no of course not. But I did the math and-“

“I thought we were passed this? I thought you trusted me.” He yells.

“Urban, keep your voice down, Cassie is in the other room.” You tell him, turning to look into the living room to see if she heard him.

“I don’t give a shit right now. We’re married, you said you trusted me. But you asking me about that bullshit says otherwise.”

“It was a question, I simply asked if you’ve seen what was going around.”

“No, it’s the fact that you hesitated when I asked you if you trusted me.”

“You have a track record of sleeping around, yeah. But also don’t blame me for not answering you right away. It just caught me off guard.”

He shakes his head. “Be straight up, own your shit, there’s a part of you that you believe that shit. You honestly think I would step out on you? On my daughter? And with her out of all people?.”

“I’m sorry okay, what else do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs and scratches his head. “I need time, I need to get out of here.”

“Urban come on, don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic? You accused me of cheating and getting Stassie pregnant, tell me how would you react if I questioned you about that?”

“Um you did, when I released my song, you thought I had cheated on you”

He rolls his eyes, “That’s fucking different, You’re questioning me wether I got her pregnant or not.”

“I’m sorry okay, I just-“

“No, I need to get out of here. You figure out your shit. Either you trust me or not.”

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“Urb, babe, please let’s just talk this through.”

“Talk this through? I would’ve done that if you would’ve just said, hey babe there’s some bullshit article going around about you and Stassie. But no, you walked out the room and came and read that shit and doubted me.”

He looks at you shaking his head, he pulls off his wedding band, “You think about everything, figure out your shit, you trust me or you don’t.” He places his ring on the kitchen counter and walks out the kitchen.

You follow behind him and see him grab his keys and goes to kiss Cassie on her head.

“Urb, Urban,”

He shakes his head. “Don’t wait up.” And with that he walks out the door.

You thought maybe he’d come home after a few hours, but a few hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

You miss your husband.

Cassie misses her daddy.

You messed up, and only you can fix it.

But the question is, can you even fix your marriage at this point.?

********

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#urban wyatt #urban wyatt x yn #urban wyatt x you #urban wyatt x y/n #urban wyatt x reader #urban wyatt fanfic

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thepaintedlady00 · 2 years

Text

The Sandman and The Girl Without Dreams

Chapter 13: The King of Nightmares

TW: emotional distress, guilt, blood, violence, choking, needles, non-consensual surgical procedures (not described in depth), depictions of death and decomposition, confrontations, trust issues, feelings of doubt, smut (rough kissing, ripping clothes, biting, penetration, a surrender of control), arguments, harsh words, ANGST Buckle up guys this ones a doozy!

Morpheus.

Dream of the Endless.

I invoke your name.

I held the ring in the palm of my hand, watching as the moonstone cracked each time I sent out the desperate plea. My heart tightened painfully as I forced myself to speak again. "Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, I invoke your name."

Silence, deafening and cold swirled around me. The mark was filled with phantom sensations, fleeting anger and pain. With each passing hour the ugly, dreadful fear itching at the back of my mind grew stronger and stronger. He hates you. The thoughts told me. After what you said, can you blame him? My hands shook more. He's abandoned you, just like all the others. "Morpheus… Dream, please!"

Another crack spread across the stone and I let out a quiet, strangled sob. "I invoke your name! Morpheus! You promised you'd come…" I curled my fingers tightly around the ring, holding it against my chest. "Don't leave me here. You promised…"

"Still pleading, my dear?" His voice, old and smug, sent chills up my spine and forced my body to tighten uncomfortably. "From the little I've heard of the great King of Dreams, he'll not be coming to save you."

I clenched my jaw painfully tight. "Then you know very little about him."

The coughing fit filled the room, echoing off the walls of the glass cage that held me. "He does not owe you anything. No law binds him to aid you. The simple fact, my dear, is you are nothing to him."

Nothing. It was pathetic, how such a simple word could send my mind spiraling so quickly into the carefully carved chains he'd spent six years constructing for me. I could recognize the absurdity of it, could recognize that it was just a word and yet I fell anyway. I let the chains of the word shackle me without a fight, dread and hopelessness filling my lungs with each breath I took. Nothing.

"It doesn't have to be like this." The softness of his voice made it sound like a sincere statement. "We need not be enemies."

"You plan to rip me open and tear me apart from the inside, all for your own vanity." I spat, refusing to even look at him. "Tell me in what world would such things be done by friends?"

"You always had such a limited view on things. My dear, you need only cooperate and my research can be done without resorting to such senseless violence." He coughed a bit more, drawing in a few deep breaths before speaking again, "I need only a few hours of collection and then you'd be able to heal and do as you wished until the next procedure."

Do not bend to those unworthy.It is there stained hands that seek to tear your wings from your back and watch you crawl and wither. The words offered me little comfort, but helped me lift my head higher as I replied, "To live within the confines of this horrible place while you and your fanatics play god… No. I'd rather die."

"Then it seems your own foolishness demands blood." He said coldly. "I had hoped that after The Marquis you'd see reason." Tears streamed down my cheeks as I clamped my eyes shut. "He died because of you, after all, died for nothing."

Nothing. The freezing cold emptiness grew until only the ring in my hands held any warmth. You are nothing. "Fuck you."

With a weak click of his tongue the wheels of his chair scraped against the floor. "It will all be over soon, my dear. And once I have what I need… Well, I'll try to make the end quick."

The door closed and the empty room flooded with my quiet sobs. "Morpheus…" Useless. "Dream of the Endless…" Mortal. "I invoke your name." He hates you. "Please…" He owes you nothing. "Please come." Nothing. "You promised."

You are nothing.

Hours turned into days, trapped within the confines of the glass cage. Hunger and thirst clawed at my body, but I did not relent. During the day the room was full of people, all exchanging files and photos and planning on what part of my body needed to be harvested first. I tried to use the threads, but whatever magic they'd used to bring me here had cut me off. I could see them, the tangled and knotted fraying threads of faded color, not black but something else, something wrong. Dark mist plumed around each thread, filling the air with the pungent tang of twisted magic.

They'd cut larger holes in the glass for their hands to gather blood samples and administer drugs. Blood stained my dress and the glass beneath me from the fingers and flesh they'd lost each time one of them dared to get close. My mind was hazy from the mild drugs they had managed to give me, but still I refused to bend. I quietly repeated the words, clutching onto the ring even as it began to crumble in my hands. Day after day the doctor returned, asking me for cooperation and day after day I refused.

Normally it would have been impossible to tell just how long I'd been poked and prodded at, but the doctor was more than happy to remind me of how long I'd been here… How long my call had gone unanswered. Nine days. Nine days of starvation and dehydration. Nine days of cramped muscles and aches. Nine days of bloody fights against their testing. Nine days of needles and drugs and missing patches of skin. Nine days of pleading.

When they did finally cut me from the glass cage on the tenth day I did not go quietly. Even with my blurred vision and heavy limbs I left my cage with fire and force. In one hand I held what remained of the moonstone ring and with the other I tore chunks of hair from those closest to me, scratched and clawed and bit any that tried to grab me. It was a fine attempt, but when The Bull walked through the doors and shoved his way to the front my fight shifted from one of futile survival to one of vengeance. If this was to be my final stand I was going to take the bastard down with me.

His arms and neck were scarred by the flames he had doomed my Pierre to, but he still had the nerve to smile at me. Everything in me roared to life as I grabbed one of the saws they used to breach the glass and lunged at him. I dug the serrated blade into his chest, forcing it as deep as it could go while he wrapped his hand around my throat and threw me against the wall. I could feel the bones snap inside me, but I didn't care, I just pushed the saw blade deeper and deeper as my throat constricted under his hand.

"Dominic," the doctor called out just as the black spots had begun to fill my vision. "We need her alive."

His hand loosened but the unfiltered desire in his eyes didn't. "Apologies, Doctor Shenton."

He held me still while they stuck me full of needles, pumping the all too familiar cocktail of drugs into my veins. My head swam, shapes and shadows twisting in my eyes like they'd all melted and my already weak body went limp as they laid me down on the stiff cot. The wheels squeaked as they pushed the cot through the doors, blinding white light filling my vision and then white walls glistening and twisted with faces rolled past me. Laughter, faint and manic echoed down one of the halls and as we rolled past I could have sworn I saw red hair twisted with rainbows. De…

My heart hammered in my chest as my eyes darted around, the sounds of the other patients echoing in my ears. The doorknobs giggled and cackled as we passed, whispering incoherent words. White walls, endless halls, pools of blood and bone. Doors rattled and slammed as the other patients grew louder, restless. White walls, endless halls, screams and wails consume you. The sound of gloves being donned and medical carts clanging with tools filled the air when we finally reached the too familiar surgical room. White walls, endless halls, nothing can save you now.

Every sound echoed in my ears as they cut away the fine fabric of my gown, tearing my necklaces off and tossing them into a tray. Red blood on every floor. Red walls painted over. Tears stung my eyes as they strapped my limp arms to the table, their hushed voices full of excitement and anticipation. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red.

Sucking in a shaking breath I made one final plea, clenching the remnants of the ring, the only piece of home, of myself, I had left. "Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, I invoke your name." A weak sob left me. "Please… answer my call."

The doctor's smile came into view beside my head as he smoothed a frail shaking hand down my cheek. My body curled at the feeling of his touch, but no matter how hard I tried to move, to thrash against the restraints I couldn't. "He's not coming, my dear. No one is."

My whole body shook. I closed my eyes tightly. "Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, I invoke your name. Bring them fear and darkness. Show them the King of Nightmares."

There was no answer, no feeling through the bond, there was nothing. I felt the moonstone ring finally shatter into dust in my palm as they secured the muzzle over my mouth. He didn't answer. The pain of the drill cutting through my skin burned with the hollow echoes of the past, but it didn't hurt, not when all I could feel was the crushing pain that filled me as the reality set in.

He wasn't coming.

***

"Morpheus."

"Dream of the Endless."

"I invoke your name."

He heard her voice calling to him, heard the desperation in every soft whisper of his name. All that he could feel of her was fear and pain and an unmistakable, undeniable thought that filled his lungs with regret and guilt. "He hates you." He knew his words had been cruel, knew that he'd hurt her... But had it been so bad that she thought he hated her? Morpheus searched, chasing the echoes of her soft pleas, but he found nothing. There was no sign of her in the Waking World, no trace of where they'd taken her.

"Please. Please come."

Dreams' hands tightened painfully at his sides as he stared down at the spot she had stood before vanishing from his side, slipping from his fingers once again. He replayed their argument over and over in his mind, the image of her flame filled eyes, eyes he'd seen aimed at so many others turned on him, scorching him to the bone.

"You promised."

He felt Lucienne's presence before she spoke. "Is there any word?"

"No, my lord. I'm afraid there's not." Her voice was soft, sorrowful. "Everyone has looked high and low but they've found nothing."

"Keep searching." He ordered, turning to look at the sad face of his librarian. "I'll not abandon her."

She bowed her head. "Of course, my lord."

Morpheus sighed, his eyes returning to the spot she stood in just days ago. His mind filled with the vile words he'd used against her, the words that made her so certain that he hated her. Closing his eyes and letting the tears slide down his cheeks he listened to the sound of her voice as she continued to brokenly call out to him.

"Please… answer my call."

"Brother, I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil." Destiny? "Will you come to my garden and speak with me?"

Dream quickly steeled his emotions and moved to answer. "Of course, brother."

The garden was uncharacteristically dark as he entered Destiny's gallery. He sat at the head of the long table, as he always did, but this time Death stood beside him. She offered him a sad smile. "How are you holding up, little brother?"

He chose to ignore her question, instead getting to the point of this odd encounter. "Why have you called me here?"

Destiny looked down at the open book. "So you can do your duty."

Dreams' eyes narrowed at the words. He never involved himself in any conflict when humans were involved. "Why?"

"It is written. Those that have stolen your soul bound, taken my Weaver, have upset the laws of the universe and caused imbalance within our world."

Death had moved to his side, placing a warm hand on his shoulder, offering what comfort she could. "What these scientists are doing… What they've already done it's changed them, twisted them into something unnatural. They're dangerous now in a way that demands action."

"You are involving yourself in this matter?" He asked his brother.

"By proximity," he answered. "I will tell you where they are, where she is, so you and our sister can right this wrong."

Dream turned to Death, eyes wide with shock and hope. "You would stand beside me? You would kill them?"

Death sighed. "I know humanity fears my gift and many have fought against it over the years, but I come to them all in the end. These creatures have not only refused my gift, but have performed horrible acts to your beloved, my future sister, to do so. I can no longer endure seeing them do it without being justly punished."

"I thank you my sister," he said softly. "And you, brother."

"I'm just doing what's demanded of me," Destiny said, closing his book. But in a softer voice he said, "And what is right by Penelope."

Dream straightened his back. "Where is she?"

Destiny stood, moving to join him and Death. "They have not left the asylum. Using the same book Roderick Burgess did to ensnare you, they've fortified it, shielded it from view. You will need your strongest nightmares to pierce the barrier."

For a moment Dream allowed himself to miss The Corinthian, his greatest and most powerful creation. Having him at his side now would ensure that this would end quickly, would ensure that Penelope would return home safely, but he forced the feelings of betrayal and regret down into him and nodded. "They are ready."

His brother placed a hand on his shoulder. "Go then. Right this wrong."

Death followed him to The Dreaming and stood by his side as he gathered his army of shadows and fear and ruin. Turning his head he regarded his sister's sorrow. "Are you ready?"

With a nod she took hold of his hand. "No, but I will do what I must."

"Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, I invoke your name. Bring them fear and darkness. Show them the King of Nightmares." As her final call echoed around them followed by her screams Morpheus slid his helm over his head, his eyes filling with the view of the asylum.

It was nightmares she asked of him and it would be nightmares he delivered. When they arrived outside the empty dark field Dream was filled with a cool tempered rage as the hum of the magic binding this place rolled over his skin. The nightmares of smoke and shadow slammed against the thin barrier, clawing at it with their talons until they at last tore through it. The veil baring it from the sight of the Endless rippled as it fell and the dark brick building came into view.

The mark on Dreams arm blazed, flooding with every thought, plea and feeling of hers that had been denied him over the last ten days. Penelope's anguish nearly made his knees buckle as the screams mingled with her cries for his help filled him. Death steadied him with her arm as he looked to his nightmares with a dark and foreboding command. "Consume their every thought. Show them the power of dreams and darkness but leave the doctor… Leave Elias Shenton untouched."

They moved through the shadows of the night, slipping into the asylum and filling it with the screams of the white coats instead of their victims. Dream and Death walked through the front door, greeted with a hallway full of dazed and terrified faces. Death placed her hand on their shoulders, offering them one final moment of peace before the life faded from them, the bodies of those that had cheated his sister's gift for too long decayed instantly beneath her hand.

As they moved through the space, Death looked at the bodies that littered the ground and sighed. "It saddens me greatly to know that some fear my gift so much they'd go to such lengths."

"They have been greatly misguided to reject your gift in this manner my sister," Dream said, hoping his words would bring his sister some relief. Death's remorse was palpable in the air, but she never once faltered in her duty and Dream found himself glad that his sister was at his side, keeping his rage in check as they came to the door. He felt the mark pull him forward. He felt the quick, panicked, beating of her heart. But it was the muffled noises of pain, choked words and screams that made him open the door.

One of his nightmares hovered over the surgical cot, engulfing Penelope's body in misty storm clouds and letting loose a bestial screech of thunder aimed at the now cowering associates of the doctor. Blood dropped idly off the sides of the table, the dripping sound all he could hear. There in the corner, hunched in his chair sat Elias Shenton, smiling up at him. He dares meet my eyes? Dream thought coldly. He dares smile as if he's won?

As Dream took a step forward the nightmare moved away from the body of his lady and his blood ran cold in his veins at the sight of her. He slid the helm from his head, handing it to the nightmare as he stood beside her. She was shaking, fists clenched and bound at her sides and her abdomen half cut open with holes drilled into her flesh. Blood pooled in her palm, shattered pieces of her moonstone ring grinding into dust and piercing deep into the skin. His eyes slid up her pale form until at last he looked upon her face. Half conscious, tear filled eyes looked at him past the muzzle, and a muffled sob met his ears. With soft gentle hands he pulled her arms free of the ties and slowly lifted the muzzle away from her face.

"You're here," her voice was weak as she looked up at him. "You came."

He stroked the tears from her cheeks and whispered, "Of course I am. You called."

She breathed out a sob as Death came to his side, smoothing her hair from her face. Her tired eyes met his as she asked, "Will you help me?"

Dream knew what she meant as he spared a dark glance up at Elias. "Always."

***

The pain had been excruciating as I helplessly cried out against the muzzle and clenched my hands so tightly I could feel the jagged pieces of the ring puncture the skin along with my nails. My eyes grew heavier and heavier as I felt my grasp on the conscious world beginning to slip. A loud crash of thunder filled the room and a hand of swirling black clouds and lightning tore every last one of the people holding blades away from me. When the darkness of the storm clouds overtook my vision I thought I'd finally passed out, died even, but there in the midst of the storm two eyes formed and the structure of a face followed.

The dark figure's head bowed slightly. "Do not be afraid, my lady. The Dream Lord has heard your call and his army of nightmares has answered."

Relief filled my chest as the cold mist of the nightmares clouds washed over me. I didn't know how long I lay in the comforting embrace of darkness before the door opened and his power rolled over me, shaking the room around it. The darkness slid away and through my hazy teary vision I saw the strong silhouette of his helm as the lean black of his body moved to my side. He removed the helm and took the last step toward me, his glowing eyes focusing on every new cut, slowly sliding up my body and settling on my eyes.

I cried harder as his soft cold hands released me of the ties and pulled the muzzle away from my mouth. Through soft gasping sobs I somehow managed to speak. "You're here… You came."

Morpheus filled with remorseful pain as he brushed his fingers against my cheek and answered, "Of course I am. You called."

"Will you help me?" It was all I could say, and luckily he knew exactly what I meant. I nearly sobbed as Death smiled gently down at me, smoothing her warm hand over my hair. This had to be the end of the doctor, his associates and all the horrors they brought with them. I needed to end this. For the Stewards, Isabel, Pierre, all of them.

"Always," he said, turning his dark gaze to the corner where the doctor sat smiling.

Dream waved his hand, wrapping the wounds I had and helped me up off the table onto my shaking legs. Death wrapped a warm, soft blanket around me and helped ease me into Dreams' waiting arms. It hurt, every movement, but I forced myself to turn, to move in front of the old man. "It appears I've underestimated you, my dear."

"It would seem so."

"Now what?" He asked with a chuckle. "You bury those famous blades of yours in my throat and go on about your life? You at last kill me as you swore to do hundreds of times over the years?"

With a quick shake of my head I sighed. "No. Not yet."

He coughed, the smile only growing. "Don't have the stomach now? After all those threats?"

I willed the threads up, weak and strained as it made me, and looked at his hideous frayed dull thread. "I want you to feel it. Every second of pain you caused, not just mine, but that of all those you tore apart… All those you ordered to die… Every last person you hurt."

Holding his weak thread in my silver wrapped hand I Iet the cold frost fill my palm. I watched it spread up his thread and twist around his hands, the cold swirling with the memories of not just my pain but the pain that haunted the very foundation of this place. His face twisted in agony and fear as I pushed the memories through the thread and into him. The Steward family flashed in the cold, then Isabel and last Pierre. My pain poured into the thread as tears slid down my cheeks.

Blood ran down the doctor's nose as he coughed and wheezed out silent screams. Every inch of his frail decrepit body shook and writhed as blood began spilling from between his lips. It only took two or three minutes but when I was certain he'd known the pain, felt every last second of it, I squeezed the frozen thread in my palm until it snapped and said, "Now this world is finally free of you, Elias."

He choked and twitched, clumps of his skin decaying straight off his bones as all his stolen life left him. I stood, staring for a moment longer, an odd sense of apprehension and relief filling my lungs full of air as he stayed dead. The threads fell away and I began to fall with them as the pain grew too great. Dream's cold arms wrapped around me and he lifted me up, holding me tightly against him. Death pressed a kiss to my head and the soothing night sky of The Dreaming filled my vision as I faded into unconsciousness.

***

The Bulls heavy footsteps echoed through the lifeless halls of the crumbling asylum. He looked down at the decay and death that surrounded him with an uncaring gaze, but when he finally found Elias he couldn’t help but smile. "Well I'll be damned, the little bitch actually did it."

He stood for a moment, admiring her handy work before the gloomy presence filled the room. The dark feminine voice asked, "Had your fill?"

"I spent eighty years held back by his foolish ideals and morals." The Bull kicked the wheelchair over and nodded. "Yeah, I've had my fill."

"Great!" The man's cheerful yet equally dark voice echoed off the walls as he leaned in the doorway with a lopsided grin. "You ready to finally have some fun?"

The Bull reached down to one of the fresher bodies, plucking the eyes out of the girl's sockets and handing them to his companion with a newfound sense of joy and anticipation for the hunt. "More than ready."

***

Soft silk caressed my body as I twisted and turned, the pain only just starting to dull as the wounds stitched themselves back together. It was always uncomfortable, but the warm hands that gently stroked my arms and combed through my hair eased the feeling considerably. When I finally managed to open my eyes Death’s face was bathed in the rainbow of the stained glass windows. A weak gasp left my dry throat as I looked around the room, Dreams room. I was home.

As I moved to sit up, Death helped me. “Slowly, your body heals quickly, but you’re still hurting.”

The hazy memories of what had happened slowly grew clearer and clearer. The doctor… Elias Shenton was dead. I looked at Death with a weak smile. “How long have I been out?”

“A day, almost two.” She said and as if she could predict my next question she continued, “Cain stitched your wounds, Abel helped as best he could. Merv stopped by for a bit to check in. Lucienne has been running back and forth between you and the library and Matthew-”

“Has been sitting right here since they brought you back,” the raven interrupted, hopping down onto the sheets beside me. “How you feeling Penny?”

I lifted a slightly shaky hand to smooth down his feathers. “I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse.”

Matthew sighed, resting his small head in my hand. “Don’t ever do that again. You scared us. The whole of The Dreaming went into a frenzy trying to find you.”

“Where’s…” I hesitated, looking back up at Death. “Where's Dream?”

“He stayed with you all night,” she told me with a soft smile. “This morning when you started coming too he left, grumbling about needing to work.”

I sighed. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Death moved closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and squeezing me into her warm side. For a moment the world of threads hummed to life, the bright comforting light of her glowing white thread seeping into my body where her hands touched me. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but whatever it was has really got him in his moping mood.”

“We had an argument,” I admitted freely. “We both said some pretty terrible things. And then immediately after I got sucked into a glass fishbowl and tortured for nine days… So yeah…"

"Just because you two are bound together doesn't mean you're not going to fight. Dream is stubborn and hard headed. He thinks his way is the only way. You, while just as hard headed and stubborn, are an open book. You aren't afraid to say what you feel and you're open minded."

I fiddled with my fingers, gently running the tips along the bandages. "He hates me."

Death turned, looking down around me with furrowed brows. "You don't really think that, do you?"

Tears welled in my eyes as I shrugged. "I don't know."

"Oh, Penelope," she whispered. "He doesn't hate you. It's just… This is new for him. He doesn't do well with change, he'll fight it and deny it until he's blue in the face. I know it probably feels like you've both taken a huge step back from where you were, but it's just the opposite. You've opened him up, forced him to acknowledge feelings he's been running from and denying for centuries. I know it's hard and I know he hurt you. Just give him time… Give both of yourselves time. You'll find a way through this together, I know it."

"Thank you," I said softly. "For listening, and for coming for me."

"You should be thanking Destiny. If he hadn't called and told us where you were we might not have made it in time." She admitted. "Besides Dream and his nightmares did most of the heavy lifting, I just did my job."

I held her hand tightly. "I know how difficult it must have been for you. Thank you, Death."

She pressed a kiss to my head and stood. "As much as I'd love to stay, I've got work to do."

"You're by far the busiest of the Endless," I said with a smile. "Will I be seeing you again?"

"Maybe," she chuckled. "Bye Penelope."

"Bye Death, don't be a stranger."

Once the warmth of her faded from the room the threads forced their way back to the surface with a sharp pain in my head. Pressing a hand to it with a wince I sighed. Matthew's weight shifted beside me. "You okay?"

I waited for the pain to dwindle before answering, "Yeah. Just a thread headache. It's probably from coming off all those drugs."

"You're not gonna vanish right?" He asked, the threads blinding me for a moment as I turned to look down at him.

The changing thread glowed strong against the white. Green with tiny tints of orange. I offered him a smile. "No, I'm fine on that front. Your colors come in by the way."

He sat up straighter. "Oh? Is it bad? It's bad isn't it? I mean I can't say I'm surprised I-"

"It's fine, Matthew." I laughed a little. "Green with a little bit of orange."

"And that's good?"

"I think so. Everyone I've seen with green threads was a good person at heart. It symbolizes change, or at least that's my best guess. Pierres thread was orange and everything I've read about it has been positive so I'm pretty sure you're good."

He sighed with a relieved chuckle. "I gotta say I'm a little relieved. When you told me I lost color I thought I was dying again or something!"

"I think Dreams tendency for dramatics is rubbing off on you."

"Probably," he agreed. "Speaking of the boss, what are you gonna say?"

There was so much that needed to be said between us. He had started it, had let whatever feelings he'd kept hidden from me fuel the outburst of anger, but I too had responded with fire. We were both wrong and had both hurt one another. "I don't know."

"Death's right, you know," he said. "You two had a fight, a pretty bad one yeah, but that doesn't mean you don't love each other."

"I know."

"You’ll work it out," the raven assured me. "Knowing the boss it’s not gonna be easy, but if anyones gonna get through that thick head it’s you.”

A soft knock on the door echoed and Lucienne tentatively entered, a bright smile replacing the worried furrowing of her brows as she saw me. “My lady!” She called out, rushing to my side and pulling me gently into a hug. “We’ve been so worried!”

I pressed myself into her embrace and breathed in the smell of books. “I’m sorry.”

She pulled away, examining me closely. “You’re home now, that’s all that matters.”

“Have you spoken to him?” I asked after a stiff moment of silence.

Lucienne nodded, a sad look filling her eyes. “Lord Morpheus has been busying himself with the search for the missing nightmares. He asked that I keep a close eye on you in his stead.”

Of course he did. It was just like him to act avoidant of me, while simultaneously keeping tabs on me every second he was gone. I moved my legs off the edge of the bed and groaned as Lucienne helped me to my feet. “Where is he?”

“My lady…” she began.

“He doesn’t get to avoid me,” I said sternly. “He doesn’t get to run from the discussion we need to have.”

Matthew and Lucienne shared a long look before the librarian sighed. “He’s in the throne room. I’ve not spoken to him since this morning.”

“Then that’s where I’m going.” My legs were weak, but they were steady enough that I could continue walking forward with little issue. My vision switched between normal vision and that of the threads, the headache growing into a dull but constant pinch. Lucienne walked with me, ready to reach out and steady me should I falter, but once we reached the throne room she stopped and let me go on my own.

The beautiful cosmos filled sky cast the room in pale blue light as I entered. Morpheus stood in the center of the throne room, his hands clasped tightly behind his back and his eyes glued to the spot in front of him, the same spot of our argument and the spot I’d disappeared from. He didn’t turn, but the stiffness that sent him standing even straighter than before told me he knew I was here. “You should be resting.”

I moved closer, standing at arm's length away from him. “Probably, but you and I have a lot to talk about.”

“It can wait-”

“No.” The word didn’t sound harsh or cold, but perhaps a bit desperate. “I don’t want to wait until later.”

He sighed, only turning his head ever so slightly to the side. “Very well, where would you like to start?”

“First, I would speak to the nightmare…” I hesitated. “The nightmare that pulled them away from me before you got there.”

Dream didn’t respond, he merely waved his hand, uttering a soft name that I didn’t hear. The room filled with the echoes of thunder as the familiar dark storm clouds circled above for a moment, lightning and black shapes twisting into a more human form.

The nightmare bowed lowly, speaking in a dark voice that sent a tremble through me. “You have summoned me, Dream Lord?”

He didn’t speak, allowing me to guide the conversation. I appreciated the gesture, but the rigidness of his back and the steeled calm of his emotions had me worried. “I wanted to speak with you.”

The nightmare lifted its eyes to me, its hard features and flashes of lightning softening a bit. "My lady."

"Do you have a name?"

"The humans call me The Gathering Storm," it answered.

I took a step towards it with a soft smile. "That's a lovely name. Gathering Storm, I wished to thank you. Had you not pulled them away from me… I would have been in far worse condition."

Its head bowed lower. "I did my duty."

"I would see you rewarded," my voice was soft as I came to stand in front of The Gathering Storm. "Any reward you wish, simply name it and I shall grant it to you."

Stormy eyes looked over my shoulder to Dream before moving back to mine. "My only wish is to serve The Dreaming… To serve you, my lady, if you would permit it."

I could feel the weight of the offer settle in the room, and though I felt Dream's power coil around him I felt a soft sensation pulling me to accept. "Of course I would permit it."

The Gathering Storm knelt down fully, holding a vial of clouds and lightning that matched its appearance out to me. "With this token I shall always be by my lady's side. So long as there is breath in your lungs I shall heed your command and answer your call."

Holding the vial in my hand I could feel the raging power of the storm within it. I smiled, grasping hold of its hand for a quick moment, an action that seemed to calm the storm clouds. "Thank you."

With a final bow the nightmare rose through the ceiling and disappeared in the endless expanse of stars. Now all that remained was Dream and I. As I turned to him, my heart dropped to find him still facing away from me, still tense and silent. For a long moment I stood waiting for him to speak, but as the minutes passed it became clear he'd not intended to. "Will you not even look at me, Morpheus?"

"I do not deserve to gaze upon you," he finally said, voice raw and barely above a whisper. "I failed you."

"Look at me," I commanded. His rigid form turned and his glistening eyes met mine. "I am sorry for the words I spoke to you in anger."

His face tightened as his head tilted to the side. "You need not apologize. It was my words, my callousness, that began all this."

Taking a step towards him I sighed. "It doesn't matter who started it. We both said terrible things to one another and it matters to me that you know I regret it." I fought against the tears in my eyes. "I never should have brought your family into it… Nor should I have made it seem like your capture was their fault or yours."

"I should never have called you those things," he whispered. "You are none of them. Not just another mortal and certainly not useless. I made your suffering inferior to mine and if I could go back…" He closed his eyes, tears sliding down his cheeks. "You were right. You were the only thing that kept me from succumbing to the hopelessness in the years of our torment."

I resisted the strong urge to go to him, to melt into his arms. "Will you open up to me now? Will you tell me what caused you to say the things you did?"

"I…" He sighed. "I was jealous of my people's love for you, but more than that I was, am, afraid."

"If you've changed your mind..." I breathed in deep before forcing the words out. "If you don't want this anymore it's okay…"

"If I don't want this?" He questioned with furrowed brows. "You've misunderstood me, my love."

Finally meeting his eyes I wrapped my arms around myself. "Then explain it to me."

"For as long as I can remember I have been alone. I have my family and my subjects but that's not... They aren't the same. There have been lovers, moments of wishful thinking but nothing concrete. I'd resigned myself to the fact I'd spend this eternal existence alone. I'd taken full control of every aspect of this realm and those within it, thought I'd perfected my function and then..." Morpheus looked away from me, tears and a century of pain and sorrow I knew all too well swelled in him. "I was captured, torn away from the only thing I had that was completely my own. I was held captive by lesser beings, left in silence to fester and twist from my own pain and anger. Then I saw you… A light in the vast darkness and in that moment I realized just how pathetically lonely I'd been all the eons of this world."

Tears streamed down my cheeks as his eyes met mine again. "And I had to watch you from a cage of silence, unable to offer you anything… No kind words, no answers, not even a glimpse of the hope you freely gave me. I had to watch them beat you and degrade you, had to spend every waking hour without you in my sight fearing they'd taken you away, defiled you, killed you..." His voice trailed off as his hands clenched at his sides. "I spent every day of those two years fearing that my one chance at the companionship I so craved would be ripped away from me, only to then watch that fear come alive. And for the five years you were gone from me and every day after that I thought you were gone forever. Finding you alive... It was the happiest day of my entire existence and every day, every moment with you that has followed has brought me more joy than I've ever known."

"Then why do you hide from me?" I asked softly. "Why are you still so afraid to let me in?"

"I am not good at this, I never have been," he admitted. "After so many centuries of relying on myself, my power and the control I had over my realm, intimacy such as ours is difficult. For the first time I cannot hide away, cannot bury these unwanted things inside me and ignore them because you know. Without any words exchanged you know."

I took a step towards him. "I understand that. It can be a lot for me too sometimes, but why didn't you just talk to me?"

Guilt filled him. "I was angry with you. Jealous of you. My subjects have never felt for me what they do for you… Not for eons."

"They respect me," I said. "Is that not what you wanted?"

"It is." He clarified with a sigh. "I want them to respect you, to love you, but seeing them do it so freely, so easily… It made me question what I did to make them view me so coldly."

From what little I knew of the subject the residents of The Dreaming had always respected Dream, but more so they feared his anger. "I understand your rules are important, but I think the dreams and nightmares began to see themselves as second to them."

After a moment he nodded. "Perhaps, but I cannot abandon my rules. Not even I am above them. If I let myself succumb to the entirety of the unconscious world I would be consumed."

"You don't have to forgo all the rules. You just need to show them that you value them and the rules." I advised gently as the topic I'd dreaded bringing up became unbearable in me. "I… You've said before that we're equals."

"We are," he answered earnestly, though his body grew stiff.

My fingers tightened in my sleeves. "How? How can we be equals when I anger you by doing the duties of Lady of The Dreaming?"

Morpheus looked down for a moment. "I do not know."

"I want to do my part here, but I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to replace you." I set a hand on his chest, drawing his eyes up to mine. "It was never my intention to make you feel replaceable."

His cold hand settled over mine. "I know. This fear is my own, one that has driven me for far too long. And I will have to work through it on my own."

"Morpheus," I sighed.

"You have done nothing wrong, have offered me every opportunity to lessen my burden and still I forced my anger onto you." He shook his head. "The only one that can overcome this is me."

"Will you come to me if things get as bad as before?" I questioned, leaning into him.

The feeling of his forehead pressing to mine lifted a lot of the weight between us. "Yes. However, until these feelings lessen I'm afraid I must ask that you refrain from performing duties of the lady." Sensing the implications I'd assumed he continued, "You are The Lady of The Dreaming. You always will be. But, seeing the response to you and your work… It's difficult for me at present."

It felt like a step back, a large one, but Death's words of reassurance eased the feeling. "Okay, I'll take a step back. Just promise me you'll work through it?" I looked up at him. "Promise you won't try to bury it again."

Dream pressed his lips to my forehead. "I promise."

The majority of the hurt had settled as we stood close, almost holding each other but not quite, but there was still a tenseness there. It was something I'd expected. A lot had changed in a short amount of time, it would take more than simple apologies to adjust. As the silence soothed over us both Dream seemed to set himself to ask a question that still nagged at him as his hands smoothed over the bandages on my hand. "Penelope, did you truly believe I would not come for you?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I thought after what I said to you…"

"I could never hate you," he said firmly before I could finish. "And I would never abandon you."

"I'm sorry," I said as the emotions of the past nine days finally filled me. "I'm sorry for worrying everyone."

He held my hand tightly, but gently. "You sacrificed yourself for me. It is I that needs to apologize. You never should have had to make such a choice."

"I'd make it again," I assured him, lifting my head and pressing a hand to his cheek. "I would do anything for you."

"As I would do for you."

As I stared into his eyes my mind and my body finally let the death of Doctor Shenton settle in. He was gone. I breathed out a relieved laugh, something that seemed to make Dream smile. "It's really over isn't it? It's finally over."

Morpheus nodded, a proud smile spreading on his face. "You are finally free, my love."

I closed my eyes at the words, relief filling my lungs and a weight lifting from my shoulders. Free. Tears of joy wet my cheeks as I smiled. "Thank you, for helping me finish it."

"He deserved far worse, but I want you to know how proud I am of you for facing him in the end." Dream wiped my tears away. "Pierre would be just as proud, they all would."

For the first time in seventy years the ghosts of my past, the friends I'd lost and the people I'd killed, were silent. For the first time I felt free. "Thank you."

Dream held my hand and led me toward the library. "You need to rest now. I know you won't return to bed, but the least you can do is sit."

Lucienne had stopped pacing and pretended to be busy stacking books when we entered. Her eyes drifted to our joined hands and she hid the tiny relieved smile. "My Lord, my lady, I trust all is well."

I settled into one of the chairs, hand pressing to my abdomen as the painful tugging of the stitched flesh began to ache. "Alls well, Lucienne."

Dreams' eyes settled onto one of the books sitting on the table, his entire body stiffening. "How did this get here?"

"Your sister," Lucienne answered. "She thought it would be safer here instead of in the Waking World."

I looked at the black book with furrowed brows. "Is this the book they used?"

"Yes," Lucienne answered. "It was in possession of Roderick Burgess before passing through a woman, Ethel Cripps and then onto Elias."

Wordlessly I reached across the table and grabbed it, Dreams' eyes followed me curiously as I held the book between my hands watching as the threads wound around it, magic pulsing through each one as they glowed. I pulled the threads tight and watched the book unbind and turn to dust. My eyes met his, a shared understanding humming between us as I whispered to him. You are finally free, my Dream.

***

In the two months that followed my return things were… Tense. Morpheus had poured himself into his work, spending all his time on his throne looking through book after book after book all in search of answers pertaining to a Vortex. When Lucienne had brought the rumors to him, he already knew and was watching the girl that held such power. He hadn't explained much to me when I asked, but Lucienne had been very informative on the subject. The Vortex, a random occurrence, held the power to draw people's dreams together… To effectively end both The Dreaming and Waking World if left unchecked. "So, he has to kill her?"

Lucienne hummed softly. "Unfortunately, yes."

"There's no other way?" I flipped through the pages of the book. "No loophole or… Magic spell?"

"I'm afraid not," she answered.

I felt for him, killing was never an easy thing and the life he had to take was an innocent one. This girl, Rose Walker, hadn't asked for any of this and likely didn't even know. The whole situation was less than ideal, and the added stress of the missing arcana was too much for one person, even one as powerful as Dream. He stopped joining me for walks or dinner, stopped coming to bed, stopped everything that wasn't pertaining to his work.

In turn I'd grown restless. I stayed clear of the town, not wanting to add to Dreams' already full plate by doing things that I now knew caused him to feel upset. So I spent time with Cain and Abel, tending to their garden and reading beneath Pierres statue, but even that had begun to feel lonely. Eventually I turned to helping Lucienne and Matthew in the library, sorting books and helping her reorganize things.

If I was lucky Dream would come by looking for a book, but things between us remained distant. He'd ask me if I was well, ask about my day and then he was gone. There were no soft touches or heated back and forths like I was used to and that I longed for, just small conversations. I tried to keep Death's words in mind, tried to give him the benefit of the doubt… This was new and it was a lot for him but damn it all if I wasn't frustrated. It didn't help that everything I tried to do to help out and pull my weight around The Dreaming just seemed to upset him.

Things had gotten so tense that I’d spent most of my time far from the palace and the town and everyone. It was lonely, and The Dreaming seemed to sense it, letting dark storm clouds fill the sky above me, but where I’d expected rain I’d gained a new friend instead. The Gathering Storm had come from the big black clouds and stood beside me, offering up the companionship my days had been lacking. Ever since we’d meet at the lake and talk. For a nightmare Storm was quite pleasant company.

I laid back in the grass looking up at the clear skies and soaked in the warm sunlight as the day lazily rolled along. After a while of the birds whistling and the gentle sounds of water lapping at the edge of the lake, thunder echoed in the secluded meadow and a cold wind rushed over me as Storm took a more human shape by my side. “Morning Storm, how was your night?”

“It was as it always is,” the nightmare answered. “Are you well, my lady?”

“I’m how I always am.” I answered just as cryptically and shrugged, looking up at them. They nodded their head, turning and looking out at the shimmering lake. As I watched them I couldn’t help but notice how sad it seemed they felt. It wasn't the first time I'd noticed such in the nightmares. Their purpose and duty seemed to weigh heavily on them. “Storm? Do you enjoy being a nightmare?”

Their endlessly deep eyes met mine and the storm clouds billowed and rolled. “I am what the Dream Lord has made me to be.”

“But do you enjoy it?”

There was silence for a moment as they thought about what I’d asked. “I take no pleasure in bringing fear to the minds of men, but I am what I am meant to be.”

I sat up. “What if you could be something different?”

Storm smiled a little. “It would be nice to inspire instead of frighten… to know what the warmth of the sun feels like.”

“Why don’t you give it a try then?” I wondered.

“Nightmares cannot become dreams,” they answered.

“Why not?”

“It is the Dream Lord will,” they said solemnly.

Oh. I sighed and set a gentle hand over the mass of clouds and lightning. “I’m sorry.”

They merely smiled. “Do not be, my lady. I am what I am. It is my hope that serving you shall provide me with the things I feel lacking.”

I laughed a little. “I’m more than happy to help, sorry if it just turns out to be sitting by the lake all day.”

“Even such a simple thing as this brings me great honor.” They didn’t look away from the lake as they said, “It is good to have a friend, my lady.”

“You’re a good friend, Storm.”

When the sun had begun to set Storm left to prepare themselves for the night ahead and I slowly made my way back to the palace just as Merv had returned from the town. I smiled at him. “Busy day?”

“Yeah, lots of simple repairs. Built a few new houses,” his big pumpkin head tilted to the side. “How bout you kid?”

I shook my head. “A whole lot of nothing.”

Merv’s eyes narrowed as he lifted a finger to his mouth. “You could come by my workshop for a bit. I’ve got a few small projects I could use an extra hand with.”

My eyes lit up and I bounced on my feet, excited. “Really?!”

“Calm down kid,” Merv said with a chuckle. “It ain’t that fun.”

“It’s better than nothing,” I said, following him toward the palace and through the maze of hallways until we reached a simple door and a medium sized room. It was filled with tools and wood shavings, the large workbench that filled the center of the room had a few carved pieces strewn about while other bits were half carved. “What are you building?”

“This is all gonna be a table, eventually. And that bit over there is gonna be a personal book shelf for Lucienne so she doesn’t have to walk all the way through that library of hers to keep grabbing books she wants to read.”

“She’ll love that,” I said, moving through the space and admiring his tools. “You have an impressive workshop.”

He bowed his pumpkin head. “The highest of compliments, my lady.”

“Penelope, please!” I begged. “Or kid, that’s fine too.”

“Whatever you say, kid.” He moved to the table and grabbed a tool, showing it to me. “You got any experience with woodworking?”

“None!”

He laughed. “This’ll be interesting then. Let's get to work.”

Woodworking was, as it turned out, not as simple as weaving threads was. I struggled for a good hour and a half before Merv moved me to a simpler task. He assured me that I’d done a good job for my first try, but that he didn’t have all night to spend on one table leg, which was fair. So I sat in one of his stools, mostly sanding the legs a little and adding a few coats of polish before moving to the next. It felt good to finally be doing something, even if I was bad at it. Merv was polite about correcting me, always making sure to show me the right way before letting me loose again. For the first time in weeks I was having fun.

The door opened and Dream's black clad figure moved through it slowly. For a minute I thought he’d come looking for me so we could spend some time together, but as I looked up at the tight annoyance in his face that hopefulness was gone. Frustration bubbled up in me as my shoulders slumped in defeat. What now?

"What are you doing?" His voice was cold and his eyes were darkened with poorly concealed frustration.

I looked at the pieces of wood in my hands. "Helping Merv."

"Mervyn is meant to be fixing damages, not entertaining you."

That's it. I set the pieces down roughly. "He's not entertaining me. I'm helping him build something for one of his projects."

Dreams jaw clenched. "You are pulling his focus away from more pressing matters. This is not what you should be doing."

"Then what is?" I demanded. "I can't go help out around town. I can't help Cain and Abel. I can't help Lucienne. I can't help Merv. God knows I can't help you. So what is it I'm meant to do, Morpheus?" He took a step forward, anger unfurling from his chest and mine.

"Watch your tone, Penelope."

"Or what?" I pressed, taunting. "You'll banish me? Maybe it would be for the best if I did leave."

"You'll do no such thing."

"Won't I? Am I your prisoner now?" I knew I was testing the limits of his anger but I didn't care. This was the most I'd spoken to him in weeks. I was angry... Hurt by his absence and constant dismissal and complaints. I was done. "Do you intend to chain me, lock me up like some pet so I'm here but out of your way?"

"Do. Not. Test. My. Patience." His voice was low and lethal. I struck the exact nerve I wanted and though I regretted stooping so low I refused to back down now.

"Then give me a real answer."

Merv was visibly uncomfortable as he cleared his throat. "The, uh, the damages are this way, my lord. I'll fix it right now, I just needed to show you something before I did."

Dreams' eyes didn't leave mine and he didn't make any move to answer Merv or leave. I stood from my chair and regarded Merv with a stiff smile. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

"You weren't a bother, ki- my lady." He assured me as I walked past him and Dream.

The door didn't budge when I tried to push it open. Dreams' power filled the room, dark and heavy mist slithering from his shadow. "We are not finished talking."

I turned and met his dark eyes, grabbing the threads that made the door and pulling until it tore off its hinges and clattered to the ground around me. "Yes we are."

"Fuckin hell," Merv muttered.

"Sorry about the door," I said as I turned on my heel and stormed off.

I avoided all the main roads, following my feet through the tall grass and thicket of trees until I stood in front of the gemstone lake. The setting sun cast over the water and lit up the jewels at the bottom beautifully, but the sight didn't ease the painful burning in my chest as tears streamed down my cheeks and a loud, angry scream tore through my throat. The ground trembled and my scream seemed to make the leaves on the trees curl. For a while I sat in the grass and cried quietly as the sun continued to set.

Watching the water ripple with the orange light was relaxing and the chilled water seemed to lull my anger. I swam through the slightly chilled depths, letting it sink beneath my skin letting the water of the gemstone lake help cool the burning in my chest as I sank lower and lower to the bottom of the lake. My lungs burned for air, but I ignored them just a minute longer, two, not ready to let go of the quiet the water provided. The gemstones glistened as I slowly rose back to the surface, smoothing my hands down my face as the fading sunlight warmed my cheeks.

The feel of his tempered anger filled the meadow long before he came into view, and with a soft sigh I let my own anger refill my lungs with the deep breaths of air. If he wanted a fight then I'd give him one. "I do not like leaving our conversations unfinished."

I looked at him over my shoulder, his stiff figure standing just at the edge of the lake. "Well sometimes it's best to take a step back when the conversation isn't going anywhere."

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. If I hadn't known better I would have thought he ran here. I turned toward him and his eyes slowly slid down my body, his hands clenched into fists at his side. What is his problem? I questioned quietly as I moved closer to the edge of the lake, the white material of my dress growing heavier and heavier as I rose out of the water.

Looking down to gather some of the soaked fabric in my hands, an attempt to make moving easier, a blush rose to my cheeks as I found the wet material stuck to my form was now completely sheer. The chilled air caused my nipples to peek beneath the thin material and the way the dress hugged me left nothing to the imagination. Oh. Still knee deep in the water I looked back up to Dream, the steady sharp tug of both our anger was joined by that familiar hungry need to feel each other's skin. It had been weeks since the apologies, weeks since I'd healed, weeks since we shared a bed or felt the intimate touch of the other's hands.

Our eyes locked for a moment, both of us still angry but now we had to decide which we wanted more. To continue our argument or… As I swallowed thickly at the thought of his hands on me, Dream seemed to make the decision for us. He strode forward into the lake, not bothering to strip himself of his boots or his coat, not caring about anything as he grabbed my face and pulled my lips to his in a searing hot kiss.

I whined into his mouth as he forced my lips to part for his tongue. My hands fisted into his sleeves, both pushing him away and pulling him closer. One of his hands moved to my throat, holding my head in place as the other moved to my back. His blunt nails dragged down the wet material for a moment before deftly undoing the buttons. His lips pulled away from mine, the hand at my throat squeezing a little as he breathed out, "Don't ever walk away from me like that again."

"I wouldn't have to if you'd stop being such an asshole for one second." My hands pushed the coat off his shoulders and into the lake. I pulled his hair, forcing our lips back together, roughly biting and tugging them between my teeth.

The cold of his hands on the bare skin of my back sent a shiver up my spine and a soft mewl out of my throat and into his mouth as he roughly pulled my arms free of the sleeves and forced the top of the dress down to my hips. He lifted me out of the water, turning us quickly back onto solid ground. His hand fisted in my hair, tugging my head back and opening up my throat to the onslaught of his lips. It felt good to finally feel something other than his annoyance or my own frustration, and I cherished every second of it.

When the scratchy tree bark clawed at my back I gasped, arching into Dream. He panted against my skin, biting into my neck and down my chest, swirling his tongue and fingers over my nipples. "Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?"

My hands grabbed the collar of his shirt, tearing it open and forcing it off him. "Stop. Talking."

He growled at my command and tore the rest of my dress off me, moving me away from the stability of the tree and lowering me to the ground, a soft blanket meeting my skin instead of the damp grass. When his body draped over mine he was completely naked, biting and kissing up my stomach, tugging one of my nipples between his teeth harshly before my hands dragged him back up to my lips. God this felt good.

Wasting no time with words he pushed into my wet cunt, one thrust bringing his hips flush with mine and seating himself snugly inside me. I moaned loudly at the sudden burn and stretch of him, my nails digging into his arms as he set a fast and rough pace that left me breathless. I could feel the smug satisfaction in him as he watched me, hands gliding against my wet skin and squeezing my hips tight enough to bruise. It wasn’t a surprise when I came, nor was it one when he didn’t relent in his movements.

I lifted my hand to his head, trailing my fingers over the crown of his thread. Dream groaned into my mouth, every inch of him tensing and slowing as he tried to calm himself down from the sudden pleasurable feeling. Taking the opportunity I squeezed his hips with my legs and rolled us over, the ground startling him as it met his back. He sat up against me, hands digging into my flesh as his wide, wild eyes looked up at me, an uncomfortable feeling smoldering in his chest at our position. We stared at one another for a moment longer before I rolled my hips down, his eyes shutting and a blissful expression replacing the furrowed brows and tight lips.

He kept his hands firmly on my waist, holding onto a tiny shred of control as I continued to move against him. I’d rode him before, but it had never been like this… he had never let me be this in control before. That feeling alone lit a fire in my core, pushing me to move faster, to nip and suck marks into his neck as he threw his head back with a moan. It wasn’t the control that made this moment, this feeling, so intense. It was the warm feeling of trust that hummed through him. For the first time in months I could feel him put his trust in me. For the first time in months I felt like his equal. His breathing grew heavy as his shining starry eyes met mine, the anger and annoyance and everything in between fading away with each snap of our hips. We came together, foreheads pressed to one another's.

Dream had collapsed back, his arms keeping me firmly locked against his chest as we both caught our breaths. For a moment we were just content to hold each other, to feel the love that had been smothered and covered up by everything else. I set my chin on his chest, looking at him bathed in the moonlight beneath me. “I missed this.” His eyes opened and he looked at me. “I missed you.”

With a gentle breath he pulled me even closer. “I missed you as well.”

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

“There has been a lot to do.” He shook his head a little. “I have been frustrated and angry with everything as of late and I did not want to risk taking it out on you again.”

I set my head in the crook of his neck and pressed a light kiss to one of the hickeys I’d left. “While I appreciate the gesture, avoiding me doesn’t feel much better.”

Dream kissed my head. “I realize that now.”

Lifting my head and looking down at him I spoke, “Let’s make a promise then. No matter how angry we are, no matter how busy things get, we’ll always go to bed together.”

He smiled. “That sounds like a good promise.”

“I love you,” I said, stroking his cheek.

“I love you too,” he replied, leaning into my touch.

As we lay together, curled up in each other I sighed. “How mad is Merv about the door?”

Dream chuckled. “Quite.”

“Fuck.”

***

I walked through the hedges and into the small courtyard of Destiny’s garden, happy to see him already waiting for me. “Good evening, Penelope.”

“Hey, Des,” I replied, taking my seat. “How have you been?”

The last time I’d seen him was when Lyria, or rather the thing possessing her, had attacked him. From what I could tell his wounds had healed, the physical ones at least. He regarded my question with a tiny smile. “I should be asking you this question.”

Right, the last he heard of me was when I’d returned to the asylum. “Thank you, for helping them find me. If it weren’t for you-”

“You would have been found,” he assured me. “I merely sped up the process and gave my brother the permission to act.”

“He would have done it anyway,” I said with a laugh.

“I know,” Destiny agreed. “But this way he does not have to face any unpleasant consequences.”

We sat in silence for a moment before I worked up the courage to ask him the question I came here for. “Can we save her?”

His misty eyes met mine and a sad look filled his stoic face. “I do not know.”

“But you know everything.”

“Not this.”

“The book doesn’t say anything?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. It does not.”

That wasn’t good, I knew it and so did he. If the book didn’t know what was going to happen to her then what hope did we have at it? “What was the book that you’d trapped this thing in? If I can find it then I might be able to figure out a plan.”

“You do not need to trouble yourself with this,” he answered. “It is my doing.”

“I told you I’d help you,” I answered firmly. “And I intend to. I’m not going to just set this aside, not while there's still a chance to save her.”

“How do you know there is one?”

I looked over toward the statues, to the place the thorned throne had been that day. “She fought it. Took control to try and give me time to kill her. I have to believe that means she’s still in there and still capable of being saved.”

Destiny smiled at me. “Thank you, Penelope.”

I shrugged. “Don’t thank me yet, just spill the details on that book. You can thank me when she’s home.”

He told me what he could, all of it vague and not very helpful, as was normal for him. It was enough though. When I returned to The Dreaming I sought out Lucienne in the library, giving her the details he could provide and asking her to keep her eyes open for anything. I took notice of her stress immediately as she shuffled through stacks of books and sighed to herself. “What’s going on?”

“What?” She asked, looking back up at me with an apologetic smile. “Forgive me, my lady. It’s the Vortex.”

“Has she started doing whatever it is she does?”

“Yes and no.” Lucienne shook her head. “Her brother is missing from The Dreaming.”

“How?”

“That is what we are trying to figure out.” She nodded to the door. “I am going to meet Lord Morpheus to discuss possibilities now, if you’d like to come with me.”

Things had been better between Dream and I ever since our night at the lake. He upheld his end of our promise and so did I. It seemed to be helping, at least it was with keeping him from bottling up his anger and frustration. I smiled a little at the thought of his creative ways to rid himself of such things, before nodding to Lucienne and joining her in walking to the throne room.

Dream sat on the bottom steps, Matthew beside him and a cold and stressed look set on his face as he looked up at me with a tense smile. “How is my brother?”

“As good as he can be,” I answered, moving to sit beside him, offering him a featherlight touch. “Lucienne tells me you’ve had no such luck.”

“Jed Walker is still in the realm of the living, but I cannot find him.”

Lucienne sighed. “No. Nor I, my lord.”

“All humans are connected to the Dreaming. They spend a third of their life here. Breaking that connection would require knowledge and power.” He said stiffly.

“Then it may interest you to know that the last nightmare Jed Walker had before he disappeared was of Gault.” Lucienne said tactfully.

Dreams brows furrowed even more. “You think she severed him from the Dreaming?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s not just any child, is he?” she asked. “He’s Rose Walker's brother. She is the Vortex.”

As he took in her words an odd sensation rolled through the throne room. “Excuse me?” All eyes turned toward the sound of the new voice as a young woman walked toward us, her head held high and a light confusion in her eyes. “I’m Rose Walker. What do you know about my brother, Jed?”

Beside me Dream looked far more astonished than I expected of him. The ceiling above us swirled with bright cosmic light as Rose Walker stood before us, completely unaware of the fact she had just waltzed into a kings throne room. Dream stood from my side, subtly offering me a hand to help me up. “You are welcome here, Rose Walker.”

“Who are you?”

Lucienne stepped toward her, a wary look in her eyes. “You have somehow dreamed your way into an audience with Lord Morpheus. The King of Dreams. And now you must go.”

“Lucienne,” Dream warned.

“She shouldn’t be here.”

“No,” he answered with a hint of a smile. “But I should like her to stay.”

I took a step down from Dreams' side, looking intently at the girl as she looked around, taking in her surroundings. The world fading into the darkness of the glowing threads as I examined hers. Yellow with strands of purple and pink interwoven together, beautiful and very fitting of what little I could see of her personality. Rose herself was clear as day, like Dream and Destiny and Death with a dazzling swirl of cosmic light surrounding her. She watched me closely, looking me up and down before speaking, “Are you some kind of goddess?”

I laughed, shaking my head quickly. “No, I’m not. Far from it actually.”

She gestured to my clothes. “You just look… regal. You’re very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You and your thread are quite the sight as well.”

“My what?”

“Right, I forget most people don’t know about this stuff,” I chuckled. “I can see your universal thread. The things that make you, well you.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re not a goddess?”

“Not a goddess. Human, just with a complicated job.”

“This is weird,” she said softly.

“I know,” I answered, hoping I'd be able to offer her some kind of reassurance.

“What is this place?”

Dream answered this time, voice soft and elegant. “You’re in The Dreaming, the place where people come when they sleep.”

“So, I’m asleep right now? I’m dreaming?”

“Yes, and I should like to know how it is you found me.”

“I heard you talking about me brother,” Rose answered, looking around again. “Is he here?”

“No.” Dream said, slowly descending the steps and moving around her.

“Do you know where he is?”

“No.” He looked up at the windows as the image of Gault filled them with blue and purple hues of light. “But I think he might be with one of my missing Nightmares.”

Rose’s head tilted to the side. “She’s a nightmare? What would she want with Jed?”

He had a gleam in his eyes as he looked down at her with a peaked curiosity. “I don’t know, but I have a feeling it has something to do with you.”

“Me? Why? What did I do?”

“It is not what you did. It is what you are.”

She shook her head, fighting a laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand any of this.”

Dream smiled a bit. “No. Dream vortexes are largely incomprehensible.”

“What’s a dream vortex?”

“You are,” I said, offering her a reassuring smile, trying my best to find some way to ease the obvious swell of confusion in the poor girl.

“You see, once every few thousand years, a mortal is born with a dreaming ability so powerful, she can travel through the dreams of others. Apparently all the way to my throne room. “

She winced a little. “I was just looking for my brother.”

“If you can find me in The Dreaming, you can find your brother. No matter where Gault has hidden him.”

“How?” she asked. “How do I do that?”

“For now, keep looking for your brother in the waking world. Matthew will watch over you there,” he said, turning to the raven as he hopped down the stairs and looked up at Rose.

“At your service, Rose.” He said with a bow.

The look on her face made me laugh. “Don’t worry, you get used to it.”

“When he is with you, I am with you. Then tonight when you sleep you and I will go in search of Gault and your brother together. In your dreams.

“She’s just a nightmare, right?” Rose asked tensely. “She can’t hurt him, can she?”

Dream didn’t answer, so I set a hand on her shoulder, a hum of whatever power lingering in her pulsing through me. “If he’s anything like you I doubt one nightmare will be enough to scare him.” Rose smiled at me, but I could still see her worry and fear. “Why don’t I go with Matthew to watch over you? And help you look for your brother in the waking world?”

Dream’s head turned to me. “That is hardly necessary.”

“No, but if Gault is already looking to capitalize on the vortex’s power then maybe the others will be too.”

“Others?” Rose asked. “How many nightmares are looking for me?”

“None,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t need help.”

“She did get attacked in an alley the other night,” Matthew said.

Rose’s brows furrowed, but she didn’t ask the question I knew she had. Dream sighed. “I do not think this is a good idea.”

I took a step towards him, brushing my fingers against his hand. The doctor and his cult are gone. “There's nothing in the waking world that I can’t handle.” I’ll be safe.

He breathed out and nodded. “Very well. Just… exercise caution please. If you see one of the others return to The Dreaming and let me handle it.”

“Yes, Dream Lord, sir,” I said with a sarcastic salute.

Rose watched the interaction with an arched brow. “So, how exactly are you going to help me? No offense, you just don’t look like someone that's good at finding people.”

I smiled widely. “I’m full of surprises, Rose Walker. You’ll see when you wake up.”

“I’m staying at-”

“I’ll find you.” I said confidently. “Popping up is kind of what I do.”

Once Rose vanished, Dream looked at me with a huff. “I mean it, Penelope. If you see any of the missing arcana, come home.”

“I’ll be fine, Dream.” I assured him. “I’ll take my things just in case.”

He leaned forward, touching his forehead to mine for a moment. “Be careful.”

“Relax,” I smoothed a finger down the lines between his eyes before nodding to Matthew. “You want a ride, smokey?”

He flew up to my shoulder. “Just don’t get us lost in some alternate dimension, yeah?”

“Shut up.” I teased focusing on Rose’s thread and letting it pull me to the house. “I’m getting way better at this Weaver shit.”

“Yeah it’s impressive when you don’t fuck it up.”

“I should have made you fly.”

***

Dream poured over the books scattered on the table, a persistent headache plaguing him since Rose Walker had left. Since Penelope had followed. Lucienne’s light steps echoed to him. “My lord, may I help?”

“Is this everything we have on Rose Walker?”

“And Jed Walker. But I shouldn’t think theres anything in those you don’t already know. Except perhaps-”

“Except perhaps why she was able to wander into my throne room.” He cut her off with a sigh. “What do you think? Why did Gault target her brother and not her?”

“Did you read about Unity Kincaid?” She asked moving toward another book away from his pile. “The day you were imprisoned there were people all over the world who fell asleep and could not wake up. Unity Kincaid is the sole survivor of what they called the “sleepy sickness”. The day you returned, she woke up. Rose Walker is her great-granddaughter.”

He took the book as she offered it to him. “Which would seem to suggest that my absence caused the birth of a vortex.”

“Is that not a possibility?”

“Vortexes are naturally occurring phenomena. No one knows why they happen. Not even I know. But I do know they are not caused or created. They simply happen.”

She shook her head, brows furrowing with confusion. “Then this is all a coincidence? And not an imminent threat?”

Dream sighed. “My instinct says no, but tonight when Rose Walker sleeps, I shall see it more clearly. May I?” He asked, walking away with the book in his hand.

The headache persisted all through the morning, the only moments of relief from it were when he looked through his raven's eyes and watched Penelope move through the humans. She was relaxed, far more than she had been in a long while, and though he wasn’t there he could feel the unburdened relief that filled her. She was finally free. Free of looking over her shoulder, free of running, free to at last do as she pleased. He quietly smiled at the bright butterfly shirt she’d worn, his eyes skimming down to her thighs where both her daggers were tightly secured.

She is more than capable of handling herself. He reminded himself, but it did little to lessen the fear he felt. If she was correct in assuming Rose Walker had already begun drawing his nightmares to her then there was a chance… slim as it was that The Corinthian was lurking about. She was capable, far more than anyone else he knew, but his creation was as monstrous and fearsome as he’d intended for him to be and he worried for her, should they cross paths.

***

Rose had been a bit surprised to see Matthew and I waiting outside the house that morning, but she contained it well. Flyers in her hands and a tall man with black and white hair following her steps she gave us a small wave before moving through the town in search of her brother. As we followed a ways behind her I couldn’t help but feel lighter. This was the first time in sixty years I’d not been nervous to walk around so publicly. It was weird, but in the best way.

The beach was warm and full of regular people having fun. They wore roller skates and slid past me listening to music, they set up umbrellas and towels and settled beneath the sun comfortably and content. Matthew had left my side, flying around the area before settling beneath a pavilion a ways ahead of both me and Rose. She and her friend handed out flyers, walking and making light conversation before her eyes glued to a crow perched on a railing. I smiled, refraining from laughing at the no doubt fit Matthew was about to have.

When she moved to follow the wrong bird I stayed put, long enough to catch a glimpse of the blonde man in the white coat with thick black glasses as he stared after her, moving to follow. He got close, but when he noticed Matthew his confident steps faltered and he turned away with a look of annoyance on his face. The longer I looked at him the more certain I was that he was one of Dreams' missing nightmares. I looked to Matthew as he and Rose spoke, before following the man down the beach. He took a flyer from her friend and then quickly moved into the thick crowd, trying to blend away into it, but I would not be lost so easily.

I cut across the beach, moving through the stalls of people selling things and into the old building, some old tourist attraction by the look of it. I waited, patient and quiet as the sound of his heavy footsteps echoed down the alley. The door to the abandoned building opened beside me and he stepped into the room with a frustrated curse. My blade was at the back of his neck in a second. “The Corinthian I presume.”

Ignoring the sting of metal against his skin he turned his head to me. "The fair Lady of The Dreaming, it's about time our paths crossed. I've heard all about those pretty little teeth of yours," he smiled wide as he slid the dark glasses down his nose, revealing the eyes of pearly white teeth that seemed to smile with him. "But, I've got teeth too, your highness."

“If you want to keep them I suggest you behave.”

He laughed. “Sorry, my lady, good behavior is not something I was made for.”

I moved around him cautiously. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then it seems you are vastly different from my creator after all.” He set his hands in his pockets. “How’s that going by the way? I can’t imagine Dreams too keen on sharing the spotlight.”

Damn he’s good. I tried to keep my face passive, tried not to think about just how right he was in the assumption. “Does that really matter?”

He shrugged innocently. “Not to me, but I have a feeling it doesn’t feel so good for you. Knowing that he’ll never quite get over himself enough to let you in.”

“Did he make you to be this annoying or was that something learned yourself?”

“Oooh,” he laughed. “You’ve certainly got some spunk. Too bad it’s wasted on him. Dream won’t change. Not for anyone, not even you. All that fire of yours is gonna do is piss him off more and more every day until he finally has had enough of you. You wouldn’t be the first lover he cast out.”

“He has changed,” I told him. “So have you.”

“Me?” This seemed to take him off guard, a moment of uncertainty causing his smile to falter before it twisted into a sneer. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about me.”

I shrugged. “Don’t I? Dream made you, you’re part of him just like everything else in The Dreaming. Does that not give me, his soul bound, a little insight into you?”

“I’m not his pet,” The Corinthian growled. “And I sure as hell ain’t yours.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you,” I said, relaxing my stance a bit. “Neither would he.”

The Corinthian shook his head. “You really think that don’t you? Tell me, how are you any different from a pet to him? He keeps you on a short leash, never letting you do what you want, never giving you any say in any of it. Does that sound like an equal to you?”

I frowned at his words, more so at the way they managed to twist inside me. “He’s trying.”

“Eons too late,” he said. “I won’t go back. And the time for chit chat is over, my lady."

A wave of black energy slammed into me, throwing me across the room and trapping me against the floor. Lyria, the beast inside her, smiled down at me. “I’m disappointed in you, Weaver. I thought you’d give me more of a fight, like last time.”

The Corinthian tipped his glasses to me with a grin. “You know, had things been different I think I woulda liked having you as my lady. Don’t worry, I’ll say hi to Jed for ya.”

He wandered lazily out of the building leaving me and Lyria alone. The power that held me was strong and unmoving as the creature moved towards me with a sigh. “It’s painful, being forced to ally myself with such temperamental creatures, but so long as I get Destiny’s head I don’t care what I have to do.”

In my pocket I felt a rumbling echo of thunder and everything relaxed. I looked up at the creature with a smile of my own. “You’re a fool if you think you have any chance at winning.”

“With you out of the way it will be easy. The Dream Lord relies so heavily on you.”

Dream? Why would it want Dream out of the way? “I thought it was Destiny you wanted.”

“It is, but I'll have to get rid of Dream first.” It said softly, appearing deep in thought for a moment. “They’ll only offer their aid if the Dream Lord bends.”

“Well, this is sounding far more elaborate than I thought. Thank you, for the information, but now I’m afraid I’ve got to get back.” I smiled at the creature as its black eyes glared down at me. “The Gathering Storm, answer my call.”

The vial in my pocket rumbled and raged as storm clouds filled the room, lighting striking all around Lyria and the creature inside until their power faded from me and they were forced to flee once again. Storm took shape quickly, their eyes examining the empty building and then turning to me. “Are you hurt, my lady?”

They helped me to my feet and I shook my head, flexing my sore muscles. “No, I’m alright. Thanks for coming.”

“Shall I hunt the creature down for you?”

“No,” I answered looking out at the beach of people through the broken windows. “Whatever they have planned is bigger than I thought. I don’t want to waste time trying to find them when we could be hunting down the book.”

Storm nodded. “I shall ask the other nightmares if they’ve seen anything that may be of use to your search.”

“Thank you.”

I found Matthew and told him to stay with Rose while I returned to The Dreaming and though he wasn’t too fond of stake out duty he agreed. Once I’d gotten back I sought out Lucienne immediately and poured over every book she had found for me on this creature that Destiny had locked away. Taking the books back up to the bedroom with me I searched for hours, looked for anything that could potentially help me understand exactly what this thing was and why it wanted the Endless gone.

There was very little, old myths and stories mostly, but one thing that felt like something was a description of some realm, old and long dead now. If this thing had such a place to hide away in then it was more than likely where I'd find the book. If I was right and it was still bound to it then this could be the key to beating it. It wasn't long after night fell that the palace shook with power for a moment before it settled. Dream had to be back, and if he was making entrances like that it probably meant he wasn’t having a very good night. I hurried down to the throne room, just in time to catch Lucienne and enter with her. There in the center of the room stood Gault and Dream, the tension and anger palpable between the two. Moving to Dreams' side I moved to touch him.

“Are you alright?” He didn’t speak, merely turning away from me and the nightmare to move towards his throne. “Did Rose find Jed?”

“We will discuss it later.” His voice was dark, tense and full of restrained rage.

“Do you have any idea what his life is like in the Waking World?” Gault suddenly demanded as Morpheus moved to ascend the stairs.

“Humans cannot live in dreams. As long as he stayed there, the child had no life nor the chance for one.” He looked over his shoulder at her.

Lucienne pulled me from between the two and was stiff by my side as Gault scoffed up at Dream. “The boy is being abused. He’s suffering.”

“You abused that suffering to build a Dreaming you could rule.”

“I had no wish to rule.” She said forcefully, tears building in her eyes. “I merely wish to be a Dream and not a Nightmare. To inspire rather than to frighten.”

Her words echoed in my ears, shifting into Storm's voice as they once told me the same. I looked at Gault, truly looked at her, and I saw echoes of the same sorrow that filled my friend and others in The Dreaming. Dream, however, did not see it the same way. “The choice is not yours to make. We do not choose to be created. Nor do we choose how we are made.”

“That is true. But we can change.”

“No. We are, each of us, born with responsibilities. Even I am not free to choose to be other than I am. Nor is anyone.” He won't change. Not for anyone, not even you.

“If that were true, why did all the other Dreams and Nightmares choose to leave this place when you had gone away?” She demanded, the gleam in her eyes enough to tell me… each of us standing in the room, that she had no intention of bending beneath Morpheus’ power.

Lucienne spoke beside me. “Not all of us chose to leave and nearly all have returned.”

“Do you think they came back out of love? Or because they were afraid of what you would do to them if they did not?” She smiled, a joyless and defiant smile. “Because I am not afraid.”

Morpheus turned, power and anger and hurt swimming in his eyes. “You should be. A Nightmares purpose is to reveal a dreamer's fears, that they may face them. Perhaps a few thousand years in the darkness will reveal your fears.”

I watched his shadow stretch, moving closer and closer to Gault as she remained tall. This is wrong. My body moved on it’s own, standing between the growing shadow and Gault, light casting over the floor and halting his shadow as my head lifted and my eyes met Dreams. He stared down at me, not resembling the Dream I knew… no, this cold and callous face was that of the King of Nightmares. "Enough of this, Morpheus."

"Stand aside."

"I do not agree with your punishment." I answered firmly.

"You do not have to. I am the king and ruler of this realm. My word is law."

"Then what is my word? I cannot be your equal if you refuse to hear any voice but your own."

"You would defy me?" He questioned, every ounce of his anger and disbelief filling me.

"Defy you?" I huffed angrily. "All I've asked is that you hear me... That you treat me as the equal you claim I am, but still you would say I am defying you?”

"You hold no authority to question me."

I shook my head. "If you would earnestly rule over this realm with fear and chains then you are not the man I thought you were.”

He took a step down from the stairs. “I am not a man. I am Dream of the Endless and I will not bend my rules for anyone, not even you.” Not even you.

I held his cold gaze, tears building in my eyes as I spoke, one last warning in hopes he’d listen. “If this is how you would choose to rule then you shall do it alone."

His voice was solid and dark even with the tears building in his eyes. "I have ruled alone for millennia, I shall continue to do so."

Holding back the tears I nodded, closing myself off from him completely. The action drew a near inaudible noise from him and the pain in his eyes was evident as I bowed to him. "Very well then. Forgive my insolence, Lord Morpheus. It won’t happen again." I turned and looked at Gault, offering her a sad smile. "I'm sorry Gault."

"Do not be," she bowed her head, not just a show of her respect and gratitude but of defiance. "My lady."

Without another word I walked away, walked straight to the bedroom and stood with silent tears streaming down my cheeks. Resting atop the duffle bag beside my wardrobe a butterfly beat its wings. The fear and the powerful urge to run filled me. It's what I knew, what had always felt safest in situations like this, full of fear and uncertainty. I grabbed the bag and tossed it over my shoulder, leaving the palace. I moved quickly through the crowd that gathered in the town, ignoring their hushed whispers and making my way to Cain and Abels. Their garden was slowly withering, the ground icing over as I got closer.

"My lady!" Abel cried, taking in my appearance. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I said quickly. "I just..."

Cain emerged from his home with a worried look on his face. "What's happened?"

I sighed. "Nothing."

"You're leaving?" He asked, eyes glued to my bag.

“For a little while, just until things calm down a bit.”

Cain’s face curled up in anger. “This is his doing isn’t it?”

Setting a hand to his cheek I shook my head. “I just need some space, I think we both do.”

He leaned into my palm. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“We don’t want you to leave,” Abel corrected, setting his head on my shoulder. I smiled, pulling away to wrap both of them in my arms.

“It’s not forever. I’ll be back.” They said nothing else as I wiped their tears and tapped Goldie's nose before looking up at the statue. I squeezed the bag in my hand and pressed a kiss to the cold marble. “Watch over them for me.”

When I arrived in the Waking World it was pouring rain. Normally I would have loved this weather, danced and skipped in the puddles, but tonight it just felt heavy and cold. I hurried to the door, knocking lightly. Hob Gadling looked surprised to see me, more so he looked worried as he took notice of my deflated expression. “Penelope?”

My lips wobbled as I tried to smile. “Can I stay here tonight?”

He pulled me into his warm embrace. “Of course you can. Come on, lsts get you dried up."

***

Penelope held his eyes, tears evident within them as she spoke again, “If this is how you would choose to rule then you shall do it alone."

“I have ruled alone for millennia, I shall continue to do so." Dream said, strong and stoic, but filled with repressed fear at the mere thought of being alone once again.

He felt her close herself off from him completely, her steady hum of emotion and thought gone… the heartbeat in his chest slowed and slowed until it finally ceased. He felt empty, alone just as she said he would be. Watching her bow to him, acting as though she was nothing more than another of his subjects cut deep, but her words cut even deeper. "Very well then. Forgive my insolence, Lord Morpheus. It won’t happen again." She turned to the Nightmare. "I'm sorry Gault."

"Do not be, my lady." Gault bowed to her, the action spurring his anger.

Penelope didn’t turn back to him, didn’t offer him anything more as she walked away. Lucienne looked down at her feet, eyes glossy with repressed tears. The sound of her feet moving through the throne room died down and he was left with nothing of her to reassure him that her love was still there.

At the base of the steps Gault held her head up high. “I shall take comfort in knowing I am not the only one no longer afraid of you. Better darkness than a life of making others afraid. Even a Nightmare can dream, my lord.”

He watched Gault fade into the nothingness of his shadow, the fire in her eyes reminding him of the way Penelope’s looked whenever she saw Roderick or Alex. The thought made him twist with an unsettled feeling as the mark on his arm felt numbed by the loss of her. Lucienne hadn’t moved or said a word, but Dream could feel the discontentment within her. “Do you feel her punishment was unjust as well?”

“I used to be something else, before you made me your librarian. We all change, sir, even you perhaps. One day.” Though her words were spoken softly, the fear within Dream made him tighten the ever slipping grip he had over his power. His realm.

“Lucienne, I realize that in my absence, you were compelled to make decisions in my stead, and I am grateful to you. But I am back now. You may return to the library.”

All the hope that had been in her eyes faded as she turned away from him and slowly fading from view. For a while longer he stood in his throne room, for the first time in months consumed by the utter silence that surrounded him. He felt like he had before his capture. Strong, powerful, in control… alone. Drawing in a deep breath he turned, moving quietly through the halls until he stood at the doors to his room. She would be angry with him. He expected that. What he did not expect was to push the doors open to find the room completely empty.

Dread filled him as he looked around, the balcony, the washroom perhaps? His eyes landed on the spot beside her wardrobe, the spot that the ugly duffle bag had once been sitting in… the spot that was now empty. No. He told himself. She wouldn’t have left. Surely it had not come to that yet. His feet moved quickly, carrying him through The Dreaming with haste.

He checked the lake, empty.

He checked the library, empty.

He checked Mervyn’s workshop, empty.

He checked the town, empty.

When at last he’d made his way down the path toward Cain and Abel’s homes The Dreaming had started to tremble beneath his feet. The two brothers were already outside when Morpheus crossed the bridge, looking sadly at their garden. What had once been vibrant and beautiful, full of butterflies and life was now… Dream felt his heart clench as he looked at the withering flowers and trees. The Dreaming curled around him, growing colder and colder the further he walked into the garden.

Cain brushed dead leaves off the marble statue as Abel took notice of him with a sad gaze and bowed his head. "Lord Morpheus."

Dream didn't say anything as he examined the growing frost, but he took note of Cain's stiff posture as he continued cleaning the statue without even sparing him a look. A tremor ran through the ground beneath his feet as bright light filled the night, drawing everyone's gaze upwards. Tears filled his eyes as he watched the stars fall from the sky, each blazing across the sea of night until none remained and darkness cast over The Dreaming. His realm was consumed by dark skies and chilled winds as The Dreaming reacted to the loss of its lady, but unlike the times before, Morpheus had nothing… no one to blame but himself.

***

Hob Gadling had been very accommodating, offering me his spare room and cooking excessive amounts of food in an attempt to cheer me up. We watched movies all through the night when sleep had eluded me. He was a good friend, but I knew I couldn’t stay here forever. Being around Hob reminded me of the man we both loved… the man that would surely come here looking for me. And at present I didn’t want to be found.

I had finished repacking my bag and as I held the key in my hands decided that it was finally time to see what Pierre had left to me. Perhaps whatever it was would ease the loneliness that grew in me every day. When I stepped out of the guest room Hob was pulling on his coat with a smile. “I’m coming with you.”

“Hob, you’ve done enough for me already. You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” he said, holding a hand out to me. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you go out in the middle of a storm in the dark?”

I shook my head with a sigh of feigned annoyance and smiled at him. “You are an insufferable degenerate, Hob Gadling.”

“You must stop talking like that, Strange Penelope, or I might think you like me.”

With Hob beside me the task ahead didn’t feel as daunting. We sat in the cab, he told me stories of course, and insisted that I come to meet his students one day. Offered to dedicate an entire class to me, insisting that I’d certainly be more interesting than he was. The old office space slowly came into view, two large men standing out in the rain beneath an umbrella, smoking quietly. Beside me Hob tensened, the sight was probably quite ominous to a normal - or more normal - person. I squeezed his leg. “Don’t worry, they’re quite lovely.”

“You have odd friends,” he said.

As soon as I got out of the car they turned to me with smiles and praises in French and Italian. “Penelope! It has been far too long!”

“Luis, Maddock,” I addressed them both, pulling them into hugs. “It’s good to see you.”

Maddock, big and burly with dark curls of hair nodded to the building. “We left everything exactly as he did.”

Luis, slightly shorter and less burly than his partner, took a long drag of the cigarette. “You ready? We can wait if you’re not. There’s no rush.”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” I said softly. "What is this place?"

Maddock's eyes were gentle as hell spoke, "The empire of The Marquis."

The key slid into place in the lock, clicking quietly as it opened. The two men stood away from the office door, letting me into the building with slightly bowed heads. I turned to Hob, who stood beside the cab underneath his umbrella. “I’ll be right back.”

Boxes filled the space, old paintings in ornate frames and glass cases of jewelry and gems. I looked at the things Pierre had gathered over the years with a lonely sense of fondness. Everything here was all the things he considered important enough to keep. A box had already been set on a small table, my name written in Pierres messy handwriting labeled the side. I ran my fingers along the faded writing before opening the box. On the top of a pile of covering an envelope read Ma moitié. I forced myself to open it, to keep breathing despite the burning ache that tightened in my throat.

Ma moitié, my half, my lovely Penelope,

If you are reading this it means I've paid my debt at last. I can only hope I left you in good hands and that you will be safe and loved in my absence. Maddock and Luis are my most trusted associates, and they will do as you tell them. They will protect you and watch your back in my place. I leave you my empire, all the things I've collected in my travels as well as all my accounts, it is yours, it always was.

This box holds that which I valued above all else, the things I loved, it too is yours. I hope these things are enough to bring you comfort. I am sorry, Ma moitié, for the pain I have caused you. It is my hope that I died as I lived, foolish and reckless, and that you are safe as you read these words. Goodbye, my heart, my goddess, my everything, my Penelope.

P.S. Tell the witch that even though she's a cunt that for a Constantine she's a good person, the best among them, and that I enjoyed every near death experience at her hands.

I was crying quietly, glad that the others had stayed outside, as I pulled myself together and lifted the covering out of the box revealing what Pierre held closest to him. The first thing was a silver locket, a small braided lock of both our hair inside with a small picture of us. Then there was his jacket, the old one that he stopped wearing years ago. I lifted the smooth black leather to my face, inhaling the familiar scent of his cigarette smoke. Beneath his jacket was a tiny box with a small marble stone, a piece of Greece, a small reminder of a large chunk of our time together.

An old shoebox was filled with various trinkets, some from the years he lived before me, but most were small memories of our travels. There were a few old loose photos of his brother, a man Pierre had looked up to and lost long ago. And two wreaths of dried flowers from both his mothers wedding and her funeral. His old camera, something he used to constantly have with him, sat idly and covered in a thin layer of ribbon, ribbon from the first gift I'd ever given him. And there at the bottom of the box was another thick envelope titled what I love most in French.

The second I opened it I began to cry in earnest. It was full of pictures… Pictures of me, of us. I shuffled through them, smiling at the memories we had together, at the photos he'd written messages on, until I found one that filled the hole in my heart his absence had left. It wasn't the best one, not flashy or elegant, but it was real and it felt the most like him. I'd stolen his camera one morning, wearing his pajamas and smiling wide. Pierre was beside me in his jacket and a torn apart shirt, hair messy, cigarette loose between his half smiling lips and his hand lifted finger extended flipping off the camera. Scribbled in the corner was: you were a bitch that day, I loved it.

I carefully set everything back in the box except the photo, his jacket and the locket, closing it with a soft kiss. "Merci. Au revoir, mon Pierre."

I slid the locket over my head and put the jacket on, curling into the lingering warmth it seemed to hold and carefully put the photo in my pocket. Looking around one last time I moved toward the exit and back out into the rain. Maddock and Luis stood side by side sharing an umbrella, quietly speaking to one another in French while Hob stood off to the side, awkwardly waiting beneath his own umbrella.

Maddock and Luis looked at me with smiles. "Need anything boss?"

I shook my head. "Not at present.”

"Call if you need us and we'll be there." Luis handed me a small card with each of their numbers. "No matter what."

"Thank you, both of you."

Hob waited until they got in their car before coming to stand beside me. "We should get out of this rain."

I smiled up at him. "I appreciate you coming with me and letting me stay the night."

"You're leaving," he said, with a sad look. "Where will you go?"

Shrugging I stepped out beneath his umbrella and smiled. "I don't know."

He sighed, seeming to sense he wasn't going to be we to convince me to stay. "Will I see you around?"

"Maybe," I laughed. "In a hundred years."

"Goodbye, Strange Penelope."

"Goodbye Hob Gadling."

As he moved back toward the cab he hollered over the rain, "A hundred years! Don't be late!"

For a while I walked through the rain, my heart heavy and my mind exhausted. I thought of home. The warmth of The Dreaming, the bickering of Matthew, Lucienne's wise words and books, Mervs sarcasm… Dream. How I wanted to curl up in his bed and press myself into his chilled skin. I closed my eyes tightly, the familiar sinking feeling consuming me. I could hear echoes of waves beating against wooden walls, the creaks and groans of the ship as it moved.

This time when I opened my eyes to find myself on the broken steps of the museum I wasn't confused or afraid. I simply walked through the broken door and moved past the destroyed art and whispering weapons to the back room. The hole in the floor was still there from my last visit, wind whistling loudly through it, but I didn't mind. I walked around it, tossing my bag on the feather covered bed and sitting down on it with the heavy loneliness filling the silence. Laying down and curling into the smell of smoke and the warmth of my jacket I silently cried. I wanted to go home… if there was a home left to go back to. But all I had was the crushing weight of nothing.

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romanoffsbish · 2 years

Text

My Body, My Choice

Natasha Romanoff x PregnantFem!Reader

PregnantFem!Reader x GN!OC (Ex)

Not together yet, more like a “meet-cute”

Natasha Romanoff, who’s no stranger to all things regarding lack of choice finds herself at a rally in favor of an individual’s right to choose, accompanied and supported by her fellow Avengers. Unintentionally she stumbles upon a rather interesting woman in the crowd, and things get messy quickly

Warnings:

The Government, Cops—at protests/in general, Violence, Roe v. wade discussion, Past traumas resurfacing. Very much hurt / comfort, with a cheesy/hopeful ending.

If this is likely to offend you, feel free to pass by, but I’ll never apologize / not call the world out for being a literal hellfire. 🤷🏼‍♀️

June 24, 2022

Natasha woke up with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach, and no matter what she did it remained there; slowly crawling up, and gnawing at her chest throughout the entirety of her morning training.

She took a shower to wash away the remains of her workout, secretly hoping that it would also alleviate this unbound anxiety, but nothing changed.

It wasn't until she reached the kitchen for breakfast that she began to understand the source of her anxiety. Wanda was angrily muttering curses in her mother tongue, aimlessly waving her spatula around in the direction of the TV that was quietly playing the morning news, and getting batter everywhere.

"Can you fucking believe this?" Wanda scoffs, Natasha quickly moves around the angry Sokovian, avoiding the flying batter and approaching the TV so that she could draw up an understanding for her best friend's unbridled anger.

———

Supreme Court overturns Roe v. Wade, ending right to abortion upheld for decades

The emboldened headline reads as it trails across the screen, causing a new wave of pain to suddenly crash over the former assassin deep seeded trauma being brought back to the surface without relent.

"No, I can't!" Pepper seethes as she walks in, angrily slamming her sunglasses onto the counter, and meeting Wanda's fierce gaze.

"Yeah, this is going to ruin so many young mens lives." Tony adds, and the women all turn to him with unchallengeable glares, causing the man to slowly back himself out of the kitchen with his hands raised in surrender.

The women continue to discuss the many implications of the ruling, how traumatic it's going to be for so many, and in many other ways deadly.

Natasha just sits there silently, no longer really feeling the pains of hunger, but also not really trusting her legs to get her back to her room. Flashes of her time in the red room continue to play in the back of her mind as she listens in.

Natasha's no stranger to the conversation at hand, she remembers a time when she had actually been "pro-life." Natasha's stance at the time was entirely rooted in the trauma of never having been given the choice to begin with.

The right to be a mother, should she dream it—which she did—was stripped from her before she'd even reached her adulthood. After many thoughtful debates with her only adversary at the time, and his wife Laura, she began to change her tune. The realization finally hitting her one day like a semi truck that what she was so vehemently protesting against was what she deserved all along.

The right to choose; to make the decision herself.

To have a right over her body and how it was to be used.

The simple common sense prospect that the government should have no say in the matters of what a person chooses to do with their body.

The right to medical anonymity..

"We should go to a rally." Wanda says, catching the redheads attention.

"I'm already on it! The Avengers backing a cause like this will hopefully have some sort of positive influence." Pepper mutters, leaving the kitchen at once with her phone to her ear, and a plan in her heart.

Wanda turns to face Natasha, shocked by her lack of engagement seeing as how the redhead is almost always quick to join in on such topics.

"Oh Nat..." Wanda coos, realization suddenly hitting the witch, and it's only then that Natasha also realizes she was crying.

Wanda pulls her friend into a strong hold, the burning pancakes long forgotten as she holds her trembling friend close, and finds herself crying along with her.

What a rough day it is to be a human...

—

June 26th, 2022

After a few counter-debates, a couple bruised egos, and a nearly bruised face the Avengers had all banded together to join the citizens of New York on the streets. All in agreement that no matter their personal beliefs that a person shouldn't be subjected to said beliefs under the threat of law.

Natasha's hair was thrown up into a lazy bun, wearing a red bandanna to keep the stray hairs from her makeup-less face. Donning a pair of biker shorts, all day sneakers, and a t-shirt that read: "My Body, My Choice!" and just beneath the words was a spread of flowers surrounding a raised skeletal middle finger.

A bittersweet smile consuming her face at the sight of her family all coming together and rallying in favor of such a divisive topic.

Tony—redeeming himself, was in the thick of it, holding an overly enthusiastic Morgan up on his shoulder's, her tiny voice managing to roar when chanting along with everyone else in the crowd. Pepper was nearby them, handing out pamphlets of information to all those in need while also handing out ice cold waters to those who'd already been out in the sun for hours.

Steve, with some tough love from Sam and Bucky had joined the rally as well. Holding up a very anti-Uncle Sam's club sign that read: "This is not the America that we fought for, we respect women, and their right to choose."

Bruce was holding hands with his girlfriend, walking alongside her as Helen held up the other end of the sign they'd formulated the night before. Information upon information disproving the "life begins at conception" argument, and reading the justices to filth.

Thor was deep in the crowd, lifting up arm loads of children, and allowing them to perch atop his biceps while he marched along, shouting in unison with the people around:

“My Body, My Choice!,”

“Keep your rosaries off our ovaries!,”

“Our Bodies,

Our Futures,

Our Abortions,” and a slurry of others.

He surely had the spirit, and that was truly all that mattered.

Wanda had commandeered the makeshift stage, reading the court to filth on her own accord, while also reading the anonymously sent in stories of all those with a uterus, and all the ways in which they've been mistreated.

Stories ranging from how they nearly died carrying their babies to full term, just to be forced into pushing out the soulless body of all their dreams of what could've been.

To the ones about not having the right to tie one's tubes without express permission from a husband, and that's only after giving birth to two children—one of each sex of course.

Then the discussion of overall reproductive health, and the accompanying discrimination Trans men face whenever taking their health into their own hands. Between discrimination, lack of adequate care, and pure ignorance many slip through the cracks of the deeply broken system.

Natasha was proud of her best friend, passing her by with a thumbs up as she walked alone; intent on observing the diverse crowd full of people coming together, while also on FaceTime with Clint and his brood.

Heart soaring incredibly high whenever a little kid was donning Avengers themed apparel while fighting for what was right, only ever stopping her march for photos with said youth of the world.

"Did you see her in her black widow suit replica? Oh and when her face lit up when she saw me, it was just so adorable." Natasha gushes to the archer, who at the moment can really only see her sharp jawline, and a glimpse of her beaming smile after the interaction.

Clint's smile matched hers, as he began to imagine the day his best friend would greet his family with one of her own; his thoughts were quickly brought back to the reality of the day though when he heard intense chanting.

"I'll talk to you later Clint!" Natasha shouts over the chanting, then smiles down at him as she presses the red button.

Natasha was peering ahead at the loud crowd, noticing that in the far out distance there's a line of cops at the end of the street all clearly overdressed in combat gear.

"It's horrible isn't it?"

Natasha turns to the direction of the voice to see a gorgeous woman stood to her left. Looking down she notices the rather sizable bump residing beneath the perfectly illustrated shirt: "Pro Choice" is what it reads with the universally known closed fist holding a hanger up in between the words. Then on the back is a drawing of a uterus, curved around the top of it the words read:

"Uteruses Brought You Into The World."

Then below the illustration it reads:

"Uteruses Will Vote You Out."

"The rights of millions stripped away, then we're made to feel wrong for legally protesting so that we'll just be beaten into silence." You continue, Natasha listening as best she could while admiring your pretty face.

Simple observation tells her you’re seemingly harmless, so she’s left to wonder where it is you manage to store all this pent up rage. Then she looks beside you to see you were here alone, she'd assume your partner was working but then she takes notice of the obvious indent on your finger where a ring once sat.

You felt her inquisitive stare so you decided to answer the number one question on everyone's tongue. Seeing as how she didn't ask herself, you felt it fair enough to tell her.

"They left..."

Natasha's eyes widen as she realizes you caught on to her stare.

"Just handed me $100 to get an abortion then walked right out the door, fucking idiot thought that would even be enough."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. I didn't mean to stare, nor less did I mean to seem as if I was trying to pry." She stutters out a half truth, having always intended on taking your appearance in, but not in such an obvious way.

You refrain from smiling at her nervousness, seeing as how she was the Black Widow, and was known for her ability to play things cool.

"Don't be... It's a fair question when you see a pregnant woman with a ring line. Well, actually it really isn't fair to ask, but it is to wonder." You chuckle out lightly, enjoying the beautiful smile you're able to pull from her, not really knowing why she’s smiling but being grateful for it nonetheless.

"I just don't see how someone leaves you, you seem so sweet." Natasha admits without hesitation, and a blush tints her cheek when she feels your hand squeeze her own in appreciation.

"Well thank you kindly, I guess they just fell out of love with me, getting pregnant wasn't easy for us, and when it finally happened they had apparently just checked out."

"Oh, so this was planned?"

Natasha didn't mean to say it so offensively, and you were able to understand that, but still you released a bitter chuckle while pulling off to take a much needed break from marching. When Natasha followed you off the street you weren't sure why she was so invested in your story, but you continued on nonetheless as she settled beside you on the curb.

"After we had already tried to do it on our own at home, we ended up spending years doing fertility treatments, and somewhere along the way their faith had apparently wavered. When they left they even told me that the last time they only partook in the treatment because they had expected it to fail.”

Natasha grabbed your shaky hand the moment she had seen the tears falling from your eyes, she didn’t exactly know you, but she could definitely tell you didn’t deserve this, and to see you like this honestly broke her heart.

“Here I was excited to bring new life into the world with my spouse of five years, and the whole time they were just hoping it would fail. All my time and energy went into finding ways to fix me, to figure out why I couldn’t pull this all together, I convinced myself that I was broken, but now I know it was never me.”

“It was perplexing to say the least, I’d almost always make it through the first trimester, then it would all come crumbling down. From the outside we looked like the ideal couple who’d just fallen on hard times, but now that they left I realize I’m the better one for it. Without the fighting, and the abnormal bouts of stress, I was able to get passed my usual lull, and now here I am, six months later and thriving.”

Natasha appreciated the way you were able to smile through your tears while rubbing your free hand over your protruding belly.

“I’m not looking forward to being alone, but my daughter here will be loved immensely, and I’m out here rallying because I’ll be damned if my little girl here has to grow up in a world where her rights are treated as nothing short of expendable. She deserves better than that, all these little ones running around here do.”

“Yeah, they do, and I’m just happy to hear you realized along the way that you did as well. Your ex sounds awful, and if you want me to handle them just let me know…”

You chuckle at her casual offer of violence, then after a moment you are made aware of yourself, and the ways in which you’ve probably embarrassed yourself in front of the beautiful, well put together Avenger.

“I’m sorry.” You meekly relay while pulling your hand out of hers to wipe away at your tear covered face.

“Honey, please don’t apologize, I was the nosy one who followed you around, and I’m glad I did. You’re like a breath of fresh air for me.”

“Yeah, because I’m sure your fellow Avengers are just so hard to live with.” You tease, and the woman smirks at your jab.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t believe the half of it.” She teases right back, standing up she wipes the gravel off of her hands and onto her pants then she extends her hand out to help you up.

The both of you continue to march with the crowd, sharing far more lighthearted stories, and with each one Natasha feels herself becoming more drawn to you, and your beautiful, intricate story.

“No way the God of Thunder did that!” You gasp, and the redheaded beauty laughs freely at your obvious shock.

“Yes, he did! I promise you…”

“So, you’re telling me that he literally just bursted through the doors of the compound with no warning in only his underwear after months of being away?”

“Yeah, and instead of telling us why he was nearly naked and covered in muck he was running into the kitchen in search of his secret pop-tarts, and when he found them gone it was a living hell… He threw all of us outside, and we were made to stand under a storm until the culprit made themselves known.”

“Who did it?” You ask, shaking with anticipation, your money was honestly on Tony, he sounded like enough of a man child.

“After about an hour of running surveillance Tony’s AI had discovered that it was indeed Thor who’d finished them off…”

“No fucking way, this just keeps getting better.”

“Yeah, so he was quick to take off before anyone of us could obviously retaliate. It was honestly the weirdest Friday off I’ve ever had.” Natasha recalls, and you concur that it indeed sounds weird as the both of you laugh over the ridiculous story, and your joined hands casually swing between your bodies.

Natasha obviously noticed that your hand had somehow made its way into hers, the woman had never been big on touch, but with you it was different. The whole time her heart had felt like it was going to explode from the pure bliss having you close had brought her. Then within another second she was beyond grateful that it was there because she was able to swiftly spin you around and pull you into her body.

With how immersed in your lighthearted bubble the both of you had been you had failed to realize how hostile the energy had become the closer you got to the end of the sanctioned off march. One second you’re both giggling, the next you’re choking on tear gas, struggling to breathe while the redhead uses her own body like a total champ to take the blows of whatever projectile comes your way.

Natasha took her flannel from around her waist and threw it over your head, doing her best to shield you from the lingering gas. Surveying the area she noticed a group of rogue cops working to arrest people, using brute force, her heart was near to shattering as she saw children in their lineup.

Her mind had been pulling her every which way, but at the forefront was her need to protect you from any harm. Luckily for her she saw Tony shoving Pepper and Morgan into the car with Happy, so she waved him down then escorted you in that direction.

“Honey, I’m going to leave you with a good friend of mine. He’ll take you back to our place, and our medical team can help with the gas.”

“What about you?” You ask, hands tightly holding onto her shirt, as you try to hide the tremble in your voice but of course Natasha picked up on it.

“Don’t worry about me sweetheart, I’m going to stick around for a bit, do my best to help the people who need it, maybe even put the cops in their place.

“Please don’t, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Natasha smiles widely at your words, not that you could see it, but your concern for her did in fact warm her heart.

“Honey, I think you forget who I am..” She teases, removing her flannel from your head, then taking a bottle from Pepper’s hand she drenches her flannel, then ties it securely around your irritated eyes.

“Please stay safe…” You relay, reaching out to cup her face, but in your blinded stupor you instead ended up lightly groping her.

“I can assure you my boobs will be just fine, don’t you worry…” She laughs out, finding the moment rather hilarious, albeit endearing.

She pulls your rapidly retreating hands into her own, squeezing them for reassurance that all is well as she settles you into the car.

“I’ll be just fine honey, I’ll see you soon.” She whispers into your ear before gently kissing your lips, and slamming your door shut before you could say a word.

Walking away with a newfound pep in her step she pulls her batons from her bag, and walks in tandem with her team towards the pathetic line of combat officers who started a battle they were never meant to win.

—

Natasha returns to the compound with her fellow Avengers who all made their way towards the medbay to get themselves patched up. Today wasn’t meant to be an Avengers level threat, but the moment cops made the peaceful protest violent that’s exactly what it became. Though her body was aching from the constant blows she took, all she’d wanted was to ensure that you made it back here safe and sound.

Her search ended quickly, having heard your calming voice singing a lullaby from the common room. Observing from the doorway she saw you sat on the couch looking as good as new, with a sleeping Morgan’s head beside your lap, hand gently working through her tangled hair as you soothed her to sleep. Somehow you’d convinced Pepper she’d be safe with you, then Morgan herself allowed it, and for you to have pulled that off tells Natasha she wasn’t wrong in putting her trust in you.

Natasha walks into the common room, approaching from the side on quiet feet, quietly greeting you, and being met with your beautiful, kind smile. It quickly falls though as you take in her appearance, noting her split lip, bruised knuckles, and scattered bruises along all of her exposed skin.

“I don’t even know where to start with you.” You finally speak, voice maternal and stern, causing the once beaming Avenger to wince as she looks down at you.

“I-I…”

“First you charm me with that stupid smirk and your beautiful caring eyes, then you save me as if I’m some damsel in distress which is like the opposite of the feminist movement we are meant to be apart of, but somehow that has only seemed to further my attraction to you…”

Natasha smirks at your ramblings, paying no mind to the pain it inflicts when she does, because your words serve no purpose greater than to bring her joy.

“Then you just kiss me, absolutely no warning whatsoever, and then you just run off like that’s the thing to do… Look Natasha, I’m not interested in games, so I need to know…”

You attempt to stand up, struggling more than expected as the lived upon couch attempts to swallow you whole. Natasha’s arm wraps around your waist, hoisting you up the rest of the way as if you weighed nothing, bringing you that much closer to her.

“Like I was saying, I need to know your intentions here, because—.”

Natasha cuts you off with a gentle, but passionate kiss, lips moving against yours for but a brief moment before she’s pulling back to confirm your concerns.

“You’re not playing games, and I promise you honey, neither am I…”

The twinkle in her eye, paired with the soft smile is enough to let you know she’s serious.

“Well, I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“This was definitely not our first date.” Natasha scoffs, causing you to giggle, then as your giggles subside a tense silence falls around the both of you.

“I thought I told you to be safe…” You whisper, reaching out to brush a thumb over her lip, the gentleness of your touch sends a shiver down her spine.

“Honey, this was nothing, I promise I’m fine.” She’s quick to brush you off, placing a kiss to your forehead before she’s scooping up the five year old and grabbing your hand to take you elsewhere.

Natasha observes your adorable pouting face, so she relents on skipping visiting the medbay for the sake of your peace of mind, wanting to ensure she doesn’t stress you out.

“I’ll make you a deal honey… You take a much needed nap with this little one, and once you wake up I’ll have been down to the medbay, and have a dinner date planned for us. You in?”

“Definitely…” You squeal, followed up quickly by a yawn, laying down beside a slumped Morgan, finally allowing the exhaustion you’d been ignoring consume you once you were surrounded by the comforting scent of Natasha’s sheets.

Natasha quietly shut her bedroom door once she hears your light snores, feeling utterly accomplished as she sprinted off towards the medbay, nearly tripping on her way down to tell Wanda everything.

Who knew that being on the right side of history would be enough to bring her towards a prospective happy ending; finding you was like a one in a million chance, and if it all goes well her far off dreams will have become a reality…

——————————————————

3,890 Words

https://www.buzzfeed.com/amphtml/meganeliscomb/pro-abortion-rights-protest-signs

https://www.hrc.org/press-releases/icymi-human-rights-campaign-resources-on-how-the-end-of-roe-v-wade-impacts-the-lgbtq-community

https://www.guttmacher.org/abortion-rights-supreme-court

(For reference on Y/N’s shirt)

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff pov #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #gxg #natasha romanoff x pregnant reader #black widow pov #black widow #black widow fluff

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themissakat · 1 year

Note

Hi! First off I jut wanted to say I'm a huge fan of your work. Your art inspires me so much and I love all of the fanfics you've written. Especially pieces of you. Anyways, I was wondering if you have any tips for beginners. Anatomy wise I mean. I'm not very good at Anatomy and was wondering if you had any tips? That's all. Keep up the great work!

thanks so much!!

man i love talking about learning How To Art, lets get to it *breaks my knuckles*

I did a quick tik tok a hot minute ago rambling on my process with figures:

I am trying to narrow down my thoughts and i think that overall, human anatomy is easiest to grasp by starting simple, then narrowing your focus.

as i mentioned in the above tik tok, simplification of shapes can really help, as well as memorizing general proportions of the body. even if you cannot draw the specific detail of, say, the musculature of a neck, or every single finger joint, if the structure is there and is generally in the right place, it will be far more helpful.

my favorite phrase in regards to developing skills and then style is, "you need to learn the rules before you can break them."

Observation and reference is super important, especially with something as complex as the human form. Frequently refer back to real people, pictures, references.

(If you are able to, I recommend trying to attend sessions with live models. If you can't there's lots of websites that give a similar structure to those sessions, but with photos instead (most sites give an option to exclude nude pictures as well which can be nice). (here's one i found by googling "figure drawing")

To practice simplified anatomy, i would probably recommend gesture drawing, just very quick and loose doodles from reference (with the above type of website, 60 seconds a pose or less!) to help get an idea of your basic shapes and proportions. (Some examples below!!)

Reference is very much your friend. if you do have a specific pose in mind, ask a friend to pose for a picture, or take one of you! (or be like me and use a webcam, because you've already got a tripod for it, why not)

(tracing from photos can also be a good way to learn! though it is important to remember that it should be used as a LEARNING TOOL, not as a means to produce a final piece of artwork.)

my final note for this long ass ramble is that, often times people will pass along tutorials from other artists. HOARD THESE. so many people have really good tips for shortcuts, or how they think about things! (for example, this artist, Meg Syv, is someone whose work i really admire, PLUS she retweets a lot of tutorials as well as posts lots of WIP work, which gives some insight into her process!) (i think she's been coming back to Tumblr as well, @/bludragongal ) okay i think that's all i can word vomit for the moment. TLDR: Observe and Reference from Life, Simplified > Complex, Create a dragon hoard of tips and tutorials that other kind people post online. HOPE THIS HELPS!! All the well wishes for your art journey!

#ask missa #missa rambles #i dunno if this is an appropriate tag but #art talk #anatomy #art tips #yall i love talking about learning how to draw

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insult-2-injury · 2 years

Text

The Politics of Power - Chapter 3

Modern AU - Prof!Silco x GradStudentReader

The enigmatic Professor Silco takes you in as his student assistant. It's only one semester, just how hard could it be?

Chap 1 | Chap 2 | AO3 Link |

Header by the wonderfully talented @pomegranatebat :)

Chapter 3

It had been three weeks.

You knew going in that the semester would be taxing, Professor Silco’s busy work in addition to your already immoderate classwork a challenge in itself.

You graded essays, tests, managed to teach a couple of his classes, met with students; everything you’d agreed to do over your numerous email correspondences and had been reaffirmed of on that first day.

You had been right, he was cantankerous; not old in age as much as old in manner, the stubborn refusal to adapt fully to the digital era spelled out in the piles of papers he laid on your desk each day to be graded by hand. The man owned a pricy laptop and was perfectly competent, could no doubt figure out how to move online if he so desired. He just didn’t want to.

It was who he was, you realized. A man who rejected change as if his very sanity depended on bowling through every expectation of him, flush with some rare sort of fire-eyed determination. Looked all the more as if he would burn the world over twice if it meant proving he was right.

And to the utmost misfortune of all those around him, he usually was.

Strange how you’d found you couldn’t get enough of it - something deliciously irate clawing wildly across the heated lining of your belly whenever that intelligence of his showed face. Whenever that tiny, sinister curl of his lips betrayed him, warning of an incoming putdown.

And he loved to put people in their place.

He rarely struck first but always had people marked, you’d noticed; was a cobra coiled delicately in the brush, waiting for his target to circle too close before he skewered into the only patch of exposed skin with precision and speed.

You he seemed to enjoy messing with most of all. You were certain, too, with your impregnable intuition that it had something, if not everything, to do with Vander. And if Vander and him were on the outs, then there was a chance he didn’t believe Vander wrote that glowing recommendation letter for you. So why had he hired you?

Not only that, but it was also the atypical errands you were running in conjunction with the usual work that had you speculating on whether or not he was punishing you, issuing you pointless tasks to waste what little time you had to yourself.

Once he’d had you pick up books for him at the library, a pain as the building was on the opposite side of campus. He had barely looked up when you’d piled them at the corner of his office desk, and you’d watched from your nook in the corner as they sat untouched, gathering a thin layer of dust before he bid you return them, unread. He’d had you draw out a lesson plan in detail only to scrap it last minute. Not to mention the two times he’d sent you down to the mail room to retrieve some expected parcel and you’d return empty-handed and sour, and he would chalk it up to simple oversight.

“Oh, don’t look so cross. I must have already grabbed it today, scatterbrained as I am. Simple mistake.”

But Professor Silco didn’t make mistakes.

Such small things were just innocent enough to pass over the head of a general observer, or perhaps to ascribe to a bout of forgetfulness. But out of a childhood of quiet instability grew a strong intuition, and you caught onto his scent quick.

It was late Friday, nearing the time that he’d normally force you to pack up, send you home for the weekend with a clipped word or two and a curt nod of his head. Your frustration felt a living, breathing thing today, prowling back and forth across your chest like a snarling tiger in captivity. A stack of ungraded essays sat before you, but it was hardly what you were focusing on.

Casual Friday. He wore a crisp black linen shirt, fitted snugly to his wiry frame, buttons fastened to the very top, only a slice of collarbone showing. The gold-cuffed sleeves were rolled up to his forearms as he worked. He wore pants of the same color; tailored herringbone trousers cut off just above the ankle, held at his waist by a black belt with a large, gold buckle. Glossy wingtip oxfords adorned his feet, which were crossed at the ankles.

His gaze darted up from above the hard brim of his glasses to snare your own and you stiffened, hotblooded embarrassment blooming in your chest as you swiftly looked away, hair falling blessedly to cover your expression.

It certainly wasn’t the first time you’d been caught.

Maddeningly, you’d found you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off him for more than a few minutes, your gaze tracking unwittingly upward like clockwork, as if you and your fixation were attached to some sort of hypnotic pulley system.

Your phone buzzed and you hesitated before opening a text from your mom.

No hello. No how are you. Just a link guiding you to the University of Piltover’s Law School and a text.

Never too late to be a Piltie :)

Involuntarily, your hand clutched around the phone.

You felt the familiar sting, despite knowing there would be no payoff in attempting to please a mother who had never been satisfied with anything in her life. You could do just as she said: attend law school, become an affluent lawyer, but it still wouldn’t be enough. She would want you to be better. And there was always something better.

A prickling awareness hoisted you up from your internal strife and back into reality, your eyes ticking up from the pile of ungraded essays.

How could one ever get used to the shock of meeting that mismatched gaze? Invisible fingers gripped a tight fist of your lower abdomen.

“Yes?”

“You’re tapping your pen.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d scolded you on the matter – your aggravating little habits. Tapping your nails, bouncing your knee, chewing on your pen. Jitters only heightened by the presence of the other occupant of the room.

You turned back around, silent, unapologetic. Another minute passed.

“You’re drumming your nails.”

You hummed the affirmative.

“What has you distressed?”

“I’m not distressed.”

“You’re vibrating.”

“I’m breathing,” you said, becoming mildly annoyed by his persistence. You rolled your shoulders back. “Must have made the coffee strong today or something.”

The following long pause had your gaze flicking up once again to meet his narrowing one.

“So it was you then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the brute who wreaked havoc in the break room this morning?”

You blinked.

“If by ‘wreaking havoc’ you mean I made coffee, then yes.”

Professor Silco exhaled, falling back into the soft plush of his desk chair, fingers propping at his temple, as if he’d been thoroughly defeated, teal eye fluttering closed briefly.

“There I was wishing on the culprit an untimely demise,” he sighed, “And it was my own TA.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“You do realize coffee is supposed to be a liquid, yes?”

“No one else seemed to have a problem with it,” you defended, but he remained unbothered, plucking the wire, rectangular frames off his face and taking his precious time searching the drawer beside for a cloth to clean them with.

“That’s because no one else was permitted the misfortune of tasting it after me.”

“You tossed the coffee I made for everyone?”

Professor Silco regarded you impassively beneath hooded lids, fingers languidly stroking the glass.

“And no doubt saved lives in the process.”

You scowled. “I’m not a barista.”

He adjusted the readers back on the bridge of his nose. “And thank goodness for that. Keep trying and you’ll make me a hero yet.”

There was something darkly amused twinkling in his eyes as he observed the annoyance tugging at the creases of your lips. But instead of allowing the moment to fade, he held it tight, and for each passing second, something pulled tauter between you as your own focus strayed, trailing to the long index finger ticking a light rhythm against his lower jaw.

Vander would be so disappointed in the way you held your tongue. Or would he? The man was a walking contradiction when it came to these things.

He loved to chant things like “Fortune favors the bold,” but the moment you dared shed that cloak of reticence and put a voice to that little flame in the pit of your stomach, you’d receive a look quite puzzling to you - one you thought spoke of an almost haunting, fearful recognition, as if for a blink of an eye he saw a ghost.

So, you just needed to keep your lid on and respect Vander for all he was - a brilliant professor and a good man, yet short-sighted.

Professor Silco shifted in his seat, crossing his legs. You thought, if it were possible, you could reach out and strum that humming connection in the air between the two of you.

You broke first, turning back to the subpar at best essay you’d been grading about the politics of warfare. And as the tension died, your thoughts drifted back to your mother.

Why couldn’t you be enough --No. You couldn’t afford to think that way. How could you ever be enough for a mother whose idea of success was an archaic set of rules, so rigid and stale, impossible to achieve.

You gnawed at the top of your pen as you stared out at the spined ridge of the Humanities building, etched with an eerie beauty against the backdrop of dusk.

Vander had so wanted you to follow in his sizeable footsteps; to mentor under him, become his little understudy. Take up that golden baton with his stamped seal of approval and climb the tallest mountain with it. He was trying. He knew where you came from. But he had his own visions for you and it was starting to feel like everyone had a pretty solid idea as to who you should be except for you.

“Do you plan on finishing tonight?” Professor Silco asked. “Or will I be forced to stay late once more on account of your musing.”

Your nose twitched in irritation as you stared out the window, contemplative before turning to him, the haughty way in which he regarded you down his nose enough to make your decision.

“Sorry, sir,” you said evenly, “I’ll be finished shortly.”

You got to work and didn’t look up until you were finished, until you’d offered nearly every student an extremely generous A.

Whatever game he was playing - if he wanted to clash at every turn, so be it.

~~~

The following Monday, you sat at your first department meeting staring so intently at the bulleted agenda in front of you that the dots began to blur together. You’d already given your little introduction speech, sighing internally when one of the more chipper professors insisted you simplify your existence down to your favorite extracurriculars and your favorite dessert.

Your gaze rose, the pen dangling in your fingers finding an absentminded home between your teeth as you watched Professor Silco lead the meeting, admiring his prowess. He wasn’t the type to open up the room, wasn’t a fan of your more Laissez-Faire approach of things.

No, he’d taken brutal hostage of the space as soon as he’d entered it, just as he always did in the classroom, a subtle but palpable hush falling as he’d prowled in like a lion on the hunt, lanky and unhurried, carrying with him a briefcase and a chilled breeze in his wake. He was in complete control at any given moment, his shoulders so taut it seemed a gale force wind couldn’t shake him. Cutting and often dismissive, but with a peculiar stroke of charisma and unmistakable competence that oddly softened the blow of his incivility.

He liked, no needed to be at the helm, that much was a given. He was stingy with his praise but positively reinforced just enough to make those below him covet those rare moments of graciousness. He was a master, a savant at wielding power to its highest effect.

And you couldn’t get enough of it, the thought of that vie for dominance sending a shock of heat slithering between your legs.

Only when he caught your eye did you realize the bite force you were impressing upon the poor pen in your mouth and you let up, tongue poking out distractedly against the top, expecting his gaze to float on. But it hung there for a moment too long, dropping to your lips almost imperceptibly before flickering away and immediately stealing another glance as he continued to speak, never breaking.

That terrible pull you felt to him - did he feel it, too?

Something dark and impulsive sunk its claws into your animal brain and delicately you pressed your lips to the side of the pen, almost as if in thought. His gaze immediately found your lips again and with a careful inexpression, you darted your tongue out lightning quick, licking a short stripe upward. Your thighs clenched just as his jaw did. And you wondered if you were the only one who heard that slight waver in his tone.

You whipped your head back to the paper in front of you, feeling dizzy suddenly as he started to close out the meeting, but the chime of your name had you jolting to attention minutes later. You stared wide-eyed at Professor Silco.

“I know you requested floor time at the end.”

You most certainly had not. You froze as chairs creaked and the full attention of the room turned upon you.

“Me?” you said stupidly, feeling a blush track across your cheeks. He allowed the moronic question to marinate in the hushed room.

“I just-“ you said, mind frantically throwing out nets to gather your wits. “Yes. I just wanted to say…” Professor Silco’s lip jerked cruelly. “Sorry- sorry, I’m not quite used to being on this side of things yet.” There was murmured laughter and you plastered what you hoped was a sheepish grin on your face. “All I wanted to say was thank you for allowing me to join you this semester. And Professor Silco,” you motioned to him, “I really appreciate the time you’ve taken thus far to accommodate me. I’m more than excited to work alongside every one of you. Thank you.”

What a load of crock, and you couldn’t appear more of a bootlicker if you tried, but it seemed to elicit a positive response.

Everybody filtering out slowly, Professor Silco scrutinized you quietly from the head of the table as you packed up, like you were some rare creature yet to be captured and studied. You stumbled in your haste to the door; grateful he didn’t call you back.

~~~

Fuck.

That had been so reckless to tempt the hands of fate like that. It was hardly anything, what you’d done; he could just as easily have not seen it at all, that brazen little tongue flick, his reaction just a making of your own imagination. And if he had seen it, well, it was nothing more than another one of your silly habits, chewing pens. But oh, had you felt it, and the feeling lingered yet, the dizzying headiness of that second glance, the tight, telling clench of his jaw.

You wanted to toy with that slice of power - couldn’t stop thinking about the way he commanded the room, how his fingers danced through the air like leaves on a breeze. His snakelike retaliation, your forced counterattack.

It had you squirming in your tiny office hours chair that day, the ache between your legs pulsing and persistent, no students showing face to offer any semblance of a distraction. Probably your own fault, tossing all those A’s out like free candy.

Office hours came to an end and you sat for a while longer, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm into the dappled desk as you contemplated.

How were you going to manage for an entire semester?

By dealing with it, sweaty and shamefaced in the privacy of your own apartment, that was how. Sighing, you made your way out of your office and down the hallway to Professor Silco’s.

Entering quietly, you hardly spared him a glance, taking a seat at your little desk and reaching for your paper tray, hand stilling when you found it empty.

“I’d hazard you’re looking for these,” Professor Silco said, lazily lifting the stack of ungraded essays. You swallowed the dryness from your throat before turning politely, fingers clasping in your lap to calm the nervous bounce of your leg. “I can give them to you.” He stood, grabbing the separate graded pile you’d laid on his desk last Friday in the other hand, giving you a pointed look. “Granted we brush up on the rubric again.”

A lazy saunter toward you might as well have been a sudden dead sprint with the paralyzing alarm you felt as he neared. A tall shadow fell across your seat and you became keenly aware of just how damp the fabric between your thighs really was and you crossed your legs, face heating as if you’d been entirely on display.

“I fear, despite our numerous correspondences predating your arrival here, you’ve already stopped pulling your fair share.” Your hands grew clammy, heart a clanging steel drum. “Did you not read these at all or have you always been so charitable?” You craned your neck up at him, hands dropping to frame the outsides of your thighs, mooring yourself. His eyebrow quirked. “A’s for everyone.”

“Not all.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right. The long-winded atonement essay apologizing for not having had the time to complete said essay you gave a B+.”

Your eyes darted between his, trying to get a read. “I thought they all did a decent job.”

“Lies.” You opened your mouth in retort. “And I think you know that,” he purred and you nearly pitched forward from the shiver that danced coolly down your spine. “How is anyone supposed to hone their critical thinking skills when they’re rewarded for such drivel.”

“It was the first essay of the semester.”

“So you were doing them a favor?” You pressed your lips together. “Did you even read these?” He tossed both stacks of papers onto your desk.

“Yes.”

“I know. I saw.”

You studied him carefully. Then why accost you? “I’ll do better,” you murmured, gingerly taking the stack of papers.

“Speak up,” he commanded with a sharp tone, and you shot him a vicious glare.

“I hope you’re not cross with me,” you said before you could put a halt to your rashness, rearranging his own words steadily back to him, “Scatterbrained as I am, simple mistake.”

The irate furrow of his brow contradicted the tilt of his scarred lips, and for just a blink of a moment he looked terribly wicked as his features darkened.

His voice grew deceptively quiet. “I believe you dropped something earlier.”

He reached into his pants pocket and your eyes widened as he revealed the pen. You must have dropped it in your haste to leave earlier. Unwarranted confidence cracking, you went to go snatch it from his hands with a muttered thanks but he held tight, stepping forward until the narrowed toes of his oxfords were inches from your boots.

You were stock still, focus falling to the laces of his shoes before dragging back up to meet his shrewd gaze above you, his eyes glittering as bright and sharp as swords. He was so close – close enough you could stretch out your arm to run it across that shining brass buckle.

“Let go,” he coaxed, your tight-knuckled grip loosening on the pen until your hand hovered uselessly in the air. He offered you a tiny smirk of amusement.

“You know your Gods and monsters. Tell me, do you know of Proteus?”

Your free hand dropped to dig its fingers into your knee. Old man of the sea. Yes, yes of course you did, but you couldn’t free the words from your throat, trying in vain to speak as your jaw worked. You nearly choked when the pen in his hand found a starting point at the hinge of your jaw before dragging down the soft curve, descending beneath your chin to lever it upward in a slow nod.

“Smart girl, of course you do.”

A sharp burst of an exhale at the unexpected praise and he slid the pen across the smooth, sensitive curve of your jawbone – up to tickle beneath your earlobe then down to the point of your chin, swapping sides.

“Proteus’ power came from his ability to change shape at will, to be precisely what a moment required him to be. He knew all – past, present, future. The answers to life’s most poignant questions. Yet he answered to no one. Why is that?”

The capped pen traveled upward to settle briefly into the divot between your chin and bottom lip as he waited patiently for an answer, regarding you as a hawk would a mouse in the grass.

You worked your jaw, waiting for your throat to unstick before you spoke. “You had to capture him first.”

He hummed approvingly. “A difficult conquest. Whenever anyone would attempt to seize him, he could simply change form. Lion, butterfly, a serpent, he could become water to elude grasp. He was wise – knew which form to take in order to fool.”

You gazed up at him, utterly lost within the low timbre of his voice, every satin word slithering down to the growing, aching wetness between your thighs.

“Unless," he continued, "As you said, you captured him. Held him fast.” Your eyes fluttered as he slid the pen up to move around the border of your lips as he went on, tracing the two mountain peaks of your cupids bow lightly before swooping an arc around the bottom.

“If anyone succeeded, and only one ever did - he’d grant them profound insight, answer any questions they asked of him. Even the simplest of truths.” The pen slid up to press against the plushness of your lips in the same gesture you’d performed earlier, effectively shushing you.

“Tell me. Who was it that wrote that letter?”

You dug your fingers painfully into your knee, mouth unconsciously parting against the pen as your eyes darted between his, the accusation fully in the open. And you weren't normally one to fight when the tides had turned so clearly against you, but a wicked excitement was growing steadily, a snaking suspicion gaining tread as his eyes glittered dangerously down on you from above. That he was enjoying this little game of yours.

So, with a tiny quirk of your lips, you finally answered.

“Vander.”

Everyone PLEASE go check out this amazing art of Professor Silco that my darling @deny-the-issue did for this fic. I am losing my absolute marbles over it and they are so incredibly talented. Give them all the love! Fellow ratfolk, I hope you enjoyed! This chapter was a grueling one to write so please, if you feel so inclined - reblog, like, leave a comment or some nice tags. It really does mean the world to know people are enjoying.

Thank you to my wonderful beta readers @sherwood-forests and @x-amount-verbs for talking me through my anxieties surrounding this chapter and for the numerous others who put up with my chaos. I love you all so much and couldn't be more grateful for you.

Yours Truly, Sulty

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@steponmesilco @truthandadare @silcoitus @pomegranatebat @rosegirl73 @givemebeansnow @soullessbody @yudunnomelmao @suelemrhoden @artwithvivien @silcossugarbabyy @tweek-tweak22 @lunaoticworld @deny-the-issue @gobletoffables @dogantlers @skidebapp @mazikomo @x-amount-verbs @sweatandwoe

#TPOP #the politics of power #silco #silco arcane #silco x reader #arcane #silco x you #reader insert #vander

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