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gemissleeping · 2 months

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Sea Foam | Chapter Four

Theodore Nott x Siren!Reader

Read the other Chapters here.

Summary: After a moonlit swim, you find Theo in the Common Room. Half asleep and buried in a book.

Length: 2.2k

Notes: This is so late and I am so sorry. I really struggled with this chapter, but I hope it was worth the wait! NSFW ahead, minors dni. Soft Theo, Sleepy Theo. First time smut writer and it is relatively soft, not super spicy sorry. It might be bad oops <3

Beams of moonlight broke through the slick of the surface, cutting down to the bottom of the lake. There was a soft current pulling at you, kelp licking at the skin of your back. Arms outstretched towards the rays, fingertips dancing through them curiously.

It was these nights, weightless and floating through the darkness, that you almost found yourself enjoying it all. No full moon to shatter your mind, to cause you to betray yourself. It brought a kind of quiet you were certain you’d never felt anywhere else, and never could.

Theo’s words were heavy on your mind, threatening to sink you with their weight. You’d tried to brush him off again, to pretend that the last few weeks had been easy for you. But it wasn’t the truth. In his absence you had only grown wanting. Finally settling on the undeniable truth of who he was to you. Who he had always been, even when you had tried so desperately to push him aside, ignore the way your eyes found one another in every room. Every breath becoming so unbearably conscious when the other was near.

It was past midnight when you found him in the common room. Tucked into the nook of couches by the window. Your hair still doused in salt. Wind-bitten and bone-tired as you pulled your clothes tighter to your skin.

You’d known he would be here, though you pushed it to the corners of your mind any chance you got. Only watery ribbons of moonlight accompanied him, splayed across his skin. Ripples of light swimming against the marks that dotted the skin of his neck, his cheek. His eyes half-drawn with the need for rest.

A book was strewn lazily through Theo’s hands as he leant back. Head resting against the lounge’s spine, losing his fight against the pull of sleep.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, unable to recall ever having seen him so disarmed before. His chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. It was a brutal thing, to see someone so themselves. To see what they might’ve been like if they’d been left completely unbruised and unburdened. It wasn’t something you allowed yourself to linger on for long.

You drew yourself closer, still engulfed by the dips of shadow that traced the candlelit walls. You came to rest by the high arched window, just a few heartbeats away from him. Wet hair curled, water running down the backs of your arms and onto the windowsill as you lazed into it. Head tilting, trying to catch the title of the leather bound book in Theo’s hands.

Curiosity was biting at you, and so you found yourself leaning towards the boy. One tentative hand on the lounge’s arm as you studied the page Theo had stilled on. It should have come as no surprise when the the candlelight flickered across it, revealing Sirens, Sea Creatures & Other Secrets of the Depths. Fondness licked at your chest, your eyes flickering from the book’s open page to Theo’s dream swept expression with a soft smile.

You turned back to the book, intrigue sinking it’s claws in deeper as you skimmed the inked paper. Reading on in a gentle trance until sleepy fingers brushed your wrist.

Theo gazed up at you through lidded eyes. Unsure if he had truly woken up, or if the dream he yearned for each night had finally come to visit him. His hand encircling your wrist surely, ensuring you would stay right where you were. Right where you were supposed to be.

“Your hair’s wet,” Theo mumbled with a barely-there smile. Your cheeks stained with the heat of being caught as his thumb ran taxing circles over the delicate skin of your wrist. “You went for a swim?”

His tired eyes lifted with question as you glanced down to the water dripping from the ends of your hair. Collecting across his forearm and sliding along the shifting muscles beneath. But he didn’t care, eyes still floating across your face as though he’d finally found his resting place.

“Sorry,” you breathed, reaching out to brush the water from his skin. But his fingers collided with yours, guiding you to a halt.

“Your skin feels like ice,” he murmured, tangling your fingers, only to bring them to his lap. Resting your joined hands atop his book and drawing you towards him, “come here.”

Theo shuffled over, guiding you down softly beside him, his hand still firmly wrapped in yours. You let him direct you, fitting snugly into the couch’s corner. He looked to you, an unguarded affection in his eyes as he watched you settle in.

Once he could feel you beside him, was certain you wouldn’t disappear if he blinked, he peeled off his sweater. Pulling it over his head, making a further mess of his already sleep ridden hair.

He held it out for you, easing it over your arms, your head. Enveloping you in something that was so completely his; the way he wanted you to be. Hands lingering at the sweater’s edges with sincerity, pulling it down until he knew you would be warm.

You smiled at the unexpectedness, settling back into the couch, his hands steering you back. Head lolling against the cushions as your eyes found his, the way they always did. He looked back at you with equal surrender.

“You’re reading about me,” you whispered. Eyes delirious under the candlelight, drinking him in. Softness spilling through your chest.

“Trying to. I like to be familiar with my favourite topics,” his shy smile grew. Head sinking further into the couch as he turned to face you properly. Watched you for a moment; the cold sting of wind across your cheeks thawing at his words. His usually guarded eyes faltered. “Have you thought about it?” he whispered, sounding much braver than he felt. “What I said last night?”

You nodded, eyes drifting from him. Going somewhere deep within yourself. He wished you would take him with you, let him see it for himself. He could’ve well done it, but he hung back, knowing it was wrong. Knowing that at least something between you needed to stay sacred to one, without belonging to the other.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me,” you returned after a moment. The path of Theo’s thumb against your wrist drawing you back to him once again. But still you wouldn’t look at him.

“You won’t hurt me,” he assured, fingers trailing down to brush yours.

“You don’t know that,” you countered, looking down at your hands. The way his fingers danced across the top of yours. How you reached for his even when you wished you wouldn’t.

“Neither do you,” he answered. Knowing he was right when your eyes finally lifted to his once again.

“And if you’re wrong?”

He could see how afraid you were; for him, of yourself, losing the both of you along the way. Every jagged edge that was keeping you away from him. How deeply your care ran. He knew it then; that he would follow you down there, of his own accord. Even if it was foolish, even if it doomed him. He wouldn’t close his eyes, he wouldn’t struggle. Not if it meant his last breath would be yours to keep.

“Then it will be my mistake to make,” he decided. One hand leaving yours, reaching to tuck a loose strand of damp hair behind your ear. Relishing in the way you hugged his sweater tight to your bones. “You can’t decide if I get to love you,” his eyes didn’t dare stray from yours, “I've already made up my mind.”

His words demolished any of your lingering doubts. You fell into him completely, sinking in the sureness of it all. The unwavering way in which he let it leave him; that he wanted to love you. Perhaps even already did. He watched you carefully, a satisfied smile pulling at his lips, fingertips trickling down your neck.

“I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

That was all it took for you to leave it all behind. Everything you had resisted these past weeks, every part of him you’d stopped yourself from touching, basking in. You felt as though the moon had made its path early. Utterly consumed by him as you nodded, nose brushing his as you suddenly grew aware of just how close you had become.

“Please.”

His lips fell against yours within an instant, hungering for you. It almost broke you, caught you alight. Fire spreading from his lips and igniting you after weeks of kindling touches, glances. Hands threading through your hair as he drew you into him. The two of you barely able to breathe from the unbreakable warring of your lips. Your hands flying to his jaw, pulling him closer to you.

You were tired of resisting him, denying both of you of what you wanted most. It wasn’t long before he had hooked his hands beneath your thighs. Pulling you across his lap as you pressed into him, feeling all of him beneath you.

Your desperation was only mirrored in the ferocity of his kiss. A chain left from your lips to the corners of your jaw. Rough kisses smattered across your skin as his hands began to roam. Pushing up the hem of his sweater, curious fingers tracing your sides. You shivered against his touch, your hands travelling the soft skin of his neck. Drifting up its back to tangle through his hair, pulling him inconceivably closer.

In a matter of minutes you found yourself in an abandoned wing of the Slytherin dormitories. Being set down softly atop the bed as Theo hovered over you. The room utterly devoid of light save for a sliver of moonlight from the lake’s windows.

“You’re sure?” Theo asked against your lips. Though from the rasp in his voice, he was barely holding it together to be able to ask the question at all. You could feel him pressing against your thigh, the sensation dizzying as you gasped against him.

“I'm yours.”

Theo groaned at the tremble in your voice, the restraint from the past month dissipating nearly completely as he made quick work of your clothes. Your hands flying to his belt as he pulled his sweater over your head. Lips refusing to leave each other’s, fingers working blind. His hands greedy as he trailed the new skin he’d yet to touch. Both of you driven to madness until nothing remained between either of you.

Sweat and skin pressed against one another as he rolled his hips into yours. Each rock of his hips drawing a gasp from you as you struggled against him, wanting nothing more than to build the friction.

Theo only simpered, enjoying how badly you needed him after denying the both of you of each other for so long. How unashamedly you clung to his arms, the muscles straining as he held himself above you.

The length of him almost tore you apart as he pushed himself into you. Bottoming out as both of you inhaled sharply against one another. A pained sound leaving you in the rush of air from your lips, he faltered.

“Are you alright?” Theo’s eyes flickered open, blinking away the lust that had consumed them as concern overtook everything else. You nodded, adjusting to his size as his eyes softened for a moment, his hand coming to rest against your cheek.

“I won’t move until you tell me to,” he breathed, his eyes falling closed as he rested his head against yours. The pad of his thumb tracing the slopes on your cheek, your jaw.

“I know,” you whispered against him.

A tender kiss pressed to your lips as Theo gave you time. Your hands tangling in his hair, bringing him down to you for a while until he pulled back for a moment. Watching as the moonlight fell across your cheek. Tracing it with his fingertips. Wrapped up entirely by how beautiful you looked beneath him. The light spilling across your skin, catching in your eyes.

You nodded tenderly, his lips pressing against the corner of your own. His eyes flicked up to yours, as he continued to press his lips along your skin.

“You’re all I want,” he breathed, smoothing his fingers through your hair before he kissed you once more.

His lips strayed again, wandering down to the skin of your neck. Hips pressing into yours as he pushed himself deeper. Heat erupted from where he buried himself within you, the sensation buzzing through your body in waves. Pushing the air from your lungs, making you choke on your own breath. Your head falling against Theo’s shoulder, lips parting soundlessly at the fire erupting across your skin. Unable to remove yourself from where you hid in his neck. Each roll of his hips only deepening the feeling.

His hand found the side of your neck with tender fingers. Trailing up to the underside of your jaw as he brought you back, guiding you to look at him. Pulling you into him further while you shuddered against him. Lips still parted and struggling to meet his eyes.

The sight was enough to send Theo over the edge, his pace growing irregular as his thumb brushed your bottom lip. His eyes completely misted at the sight of you before him; of what he was doing to you.

And as you tangled yourself into him, pulling him suffocatingly close, you tried to drown it out; that feeling.

That you had tried, and failed, to save him; and now could only love him.

Keep an eye out for Chapter Five here, or comment to be added to the tag list for future updates <3

Taglist: @hemlockmuncher @hoeforvinniehackerrr @moonlightttfae @thecraziestcrayon @itssomeonereading @weird123abc @dulcesfolklcre @amongemeraldclouds @mrsriddles-blog @cumberbitchhhh @rabbitholeee @diorandcigaddict @lovelyygirl8 @elsie-bells @thegirlwhosimpstoomuch @camille-1019 @simping-for-marvel @slytherinboysappreciation @leona-hawthorne @liaaanie @not-so-bad-ass @wildestdreamslover @nat1221 @melllinaa @aykxz98 @chgrch

if i missed anyone please let me know!

#gemwrites #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys #theodore nott angst #theodore nott fic #theodore nott #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagine #theo nott #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x siren!reader #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theodore nott smut

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anqelically · 5 months

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hiii sorry but can you please do dazai x reader holding him and humming to him until he falls asleep? <3 ily drink water

sweet dreams | osamu dazai x gn!reader

word count: 0.6k

content: no manga spoilers, fluff, one use of “bella”, it’s been a moment since i wrote oops 😭

navi | bsd masterlist

the night is cold, a blanket of snow covering the streets and buildings of yokhama. flurries fell from the sky and onto the first surface they touched. although the amount that was falling was not much, the breeze was harsh enough to make up for it.

osamu dazai stood near the corner of your shared bedroom deep in his thoughts. the window was cracked open, allowing the heat to escape and the wind to blow into your room. although you had woken up a few minutes ago, you didn’t move once. you were waiting for dazai to come back to bed, but he didn’t seem like he’d be moving any time soon.

you laid in bed a few moments more before you got out of bed. you moved quietly, a few feet away before dazai craned his head to you. you were sure he knew that you’d been awake since earlier, but neither of you said a word about it.

“close the window and come back to bed with me,” you spoke softly, hand reaching for his. “it’s cold.”

dazai let you use his hand to cup your own cheek, “because of the open window, or because i’m not there?”

you were quick to admit, “both…”

the brunet smiled, almost seeming satisfied at your response. you guided dazai back to your bed after closing the window. you held him close, burying yourselves in the comfort of your blankets.

“so, what had you up so late?” you decided to ask, gently massaging his scalp.

“i was just thinking about the day we met, bella. this hour on this day 3 years ago. do you remember?”

a silly question he asked, of course you remembered.

you were trudging through the snow in the early morning, leaving an ex-partner’s house. the day you met him was the same day they had broken up with you. you were walking down an unfamiliar road when you stumbled across dazai, who stood alone in the middle of the street with a half-empty glass in his hand.

initially, you tried to dismiss him as a weird drunkard and wanted to pass him quickly. dazai, however, called for you anyway and asked if you wanted to share a drink. and you couldn’t tell if it was because you had just been broken up with or not, but you were compelled to say yes after looking into his eyes.

“i’ll never forget, ‘samu. you were standing in the middle of the road, drinking by yourself.“ your fingers ran through his hair a final time before you wrapped your arms around his waist. “why reminisce suddenly?”

“couldn’t sleep, so why not think about my dearest while i was awake?” he grinned.

“are you sure you couldn’t sleep because you were thinking, and not thinking because you couldn’t sleep?” a familiar warmth spread throughout your chest, “come here, let’s sleep.”

although you knew it was easier said than done, you attempted to lull your lover into a slumber. you held him close, continuously rubbing circles onto his bare skin with your thumb as you hummed the first song that came to mind.

and it took almost half an hour, but you found that dazai’s mind had eventually succumbed to sleep. when you called his name and received nothing in response, you were sure. momentarily, you glanced out the window dazai stood at earlier. the snow and breeze had come to a stop, everything outside still.

you buried yourself further into your sheets and shifted closer to dazai. your hand moved his stray hairs out of his face before you kissed his forehead tenderly.

“i’m glad for that night, always,” you whispered before closing your eyes. “sweet dreams, my love.”

note: nonnie if you’re reading this rn, i hope yk ily too 😭🫶🏻 i’ve been in a slump so once i saw this req buried in my inbox i knew i should pick it up because cuddling in bed w/ my favs has been on my mind due to the cold weather :( i am also so so SO sorry for how long this took (def not 9 months 💀)

reblogs are appreciated + join my taglist !

@lovedazai @enomane @er0ses @spenzitz @wineaddict2904 @aeshiiteiru @chuuyrr @ashthemadwriter @siyoko @ma3mae @piichuu @dreamlessimp @4nthonyyliving @ruru-kiss @worldussysblog @hauntedsol @janbannan

#୨୧ [ writing ]#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd drabble

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beybaldes · 6 months

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Karma is the guy on AFC Richmond, coming straight home to me!

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent × gn!famous!reader (loosely inspired by Taylor swift and Travis Kelce)

summary: “kisses with a height difference” requested by two anons <33

an: okay you can actually thank the queen of my heart @onceuponaoneshotfanfic for my sudden (although potentially one night only we’ll see if I get my uni essay done lol) return because she reposted a celebrity prompt list and it got my mind whirring oops love you tally thank you for breaking my writers (and reading) block <33

“Hot.”

One simple word had sent your 68 million instagram followers into an absolute frenzy, and half of them, you were pretty sure, didn’t even know who Roy Kent was.

“‘So nice of them to put this football player on the map?’ They do know I was famous long before you ever were, right?” You only laughed as Roy grew more frustrated, allowing him to scroll through your Twitter account while you made the both of you some breakfast.

“Hey, maybe they have a point?” You tried to stifle your laughter, knowing Roy’s eyes would be sending daggers into your back, though only for a moment so he could continue winding himself up over the things people were tweeting. “I mean Richmond tickets have now sold out for the rest of the season.”

Roy knew you were only joking. Well, kind of. The two of you had been together for just over a year now, recently celebrating your one year anniversary, but besides the odd article about each of you potentially seeing someone, no one knew you were together - let alone that you even knew each other. Keeley had been blowing up Roy’s phone since she saw the comment demanding to meet you, her favourite superstar, and you’d woken up to 37 missed calls from your dad, furious you hadn’t told him you were dating Chelsea legend Roy Kent.

Above everything, you’re still in disbelief Roy tried to hard launch your relationship in the comment section if your most recent instagram post on a random Tuesday evening.

“Hmm, and I’m sure your next tour is going to sell out 10 times faster now the world knows you’re with the great Roy Kent.” Roy had given up on reading tweets speculating about what his comment meant and if the two of you were together, instead choosing to press his bare chest agains your back, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you finished up breakfast. Fortunately you knew, Roy Kent or not, your next tour was going to sellout. Though you’d rather have Roy be by your side for it.

“Maybe if I’m lucky.” Putting down your fork, you turned in Roy’s hold to face him, standing on the very tips of your toes to press a lovingly slow kiss to his lips. Since dating Roy, you were certain early mornings were for breakfasts that take too long to cook and kisses that end too soon for your liking. Roy’s grip on you tightened and he dipped his head slightly, making the kiss as easy on you as possible. When you began to pull away, he only ducked his head further to press his lips back against yours. “Mmm, although I’d already consider myself very lucky.”

“That you are.” Roy murmured against your lips, immediately pressing them flush against yours when he’d said his piece. “And so am I.”

an: okay short and sweet but I’m hoping to get back in to writing and get up to date with my requests now that I’m settled at uni and with my new job. Missed you guys hope you all are well <33

#beybaldes writes !!#beybaldes summer sleepover !!#ted lasso x reader #roy kent x reader #roy kent one shot #roy kent imagine #another banger another banger by onceuponaoneshotfanfic from tumblr.com

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victoria-grimesss · 15 days

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Hi! Can I please request hcs for Halsin and Astarion with plus size gn!reader who is self concious about their size (and are extremely anxious about clothes and food if thats not too much)? Completely understand if no, feel free to ignore 💚 Thanks!

Astarion & Halsin with a PlusSize!Reader (GN)

masterlist

->A/N: This turned out to be more of a Drabble and less of HC’s oops.

————

->Halsin:

Once you two are in an established relationship he would be tuned to your feelings and notice when your mood shifts and sours.

He would notice you paying more attention to your clothing and what you eat, at first he would be alarmed, not taking it lightly that you would restrict your meals. “My flower, our travels take us long and far, please let me know what ails you so I may see you well again.”

When the tears come to your eyes and your hands shake with your heightened nerves he would grow even more alarmed.

You would tell him all of your worries, and how they plague your mind day and night.

He would silence, your worry growing with each second of silence before his gentle reassurance graces your ears.

“You are beautiful to me, from sunrise to sunset I only think of you, your beauty ellipses all else and I’m sorry these thoughts make you think of yourself any other way. I have traveled and seen things far and wide, but you; you are nature's greatest gift to me, to the world. If I could manifest these terrible thoughts from your head and slay them myself I would for you. But know, you are beautiful as you are, I would ask for you no differently.

“I will help you work through these thoughts, no matter how long it takes.”

Your eyes are glossy, his sincerity seeping to your bones, “And what if it takes quite a while to quiet my racing mind?”

“My flower, you forget I am a Druid, I have lived a lifetime already and for you I would live a thousand more just to see you happy.”

->Astarion:

To speak plainly, Astarion is vain. He cannot see himself but he knows he is an attractive man that much is clear.

He would find you no different than anyone else, besides the fact that he loves you more than anyone else at this camp. And it turn, you would get to hear all of his daily complaints about the other companions.

He would come to you to complain when he would stop and notice you’re not listening at all. “Darling, you know it is rude to ignore someone when they’re talking to you.” He would be teasing but the words would flow over you like the wind.

The mirror by his tent had your attention, you glare at your reflection, your thoughts racing with the shadows of doubt.

“My sweet?” His hand touches your shoulder and it brakes the trance.

“Do you like how I look? Am I what you want?”

His heart would break at your voice, “Is that why you’re eating less? And here I thought the parasite was messing with you.” He means to lighten the mood but when you show no change he clears his throat.

“Of course I like how you look, I love it. Gods to be honest your the first person that I love everything about. It’s odd to love someone so strongly, I resisted it for a while, scared I’d lose you but I couldn't be without you or see you with another.

“You could have anyone”

“I could, but I only want you, as you want me. I will love you until I turn to dust and even then in the next life I believe I will love you. No matter how you look.”

He can be awfully sweet and poetic when he wants, almost makes your teeth hurt sometimes.

#bg3 x reader #bg3 headcanons #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 halsin #halsin x you #halsin x gender neutral reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gn reader #astarion x reader #halsin x reader #Halsin x plus-size!reader #astarion x plus sized tav #bg3 #halsin x plus size!reader #halsin x gn!tav #astarion x gender neutral reader #bg3 tav

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myfictionaldreams · 18 days

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request: nyx x female reader where they’re matted but don’t know it and reader visits him at the illyrian camps and she gets hurt and nyx loses it

Don't Touch // Nyx (ACoTaR) x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even thank you enough, anon, for this request! I've been desperate to write something like this (especially including my sweet love Nyx; I have an entire headcanon/long-form story of him already, oops). Thank you for requesting! To you or anything else, please request more SJM fics, I am adoring writing them.

Warning: there is a description of visibly seeing the colour of bruising on the skin. Also, intense emotions and responses to situations due to the mating bond.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, minor injuries, possessive behaviour/sex, obsessive behaviour, over-the-top reaction (or just right depends how you like your partners), threats of violence, aggression, rough sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, size kink, intense emotions/sex, sex until passing out :)

Words: 6.3k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

"I've never seen you like this before, Mor" You observe your friend closely as the beautiful blonde woman checks her reflection in the glass of a passing shop.

Morrigan paused, where she was currently trying to perfect her already stunning hair. Trying not to baulk from the intense, fiery stare that turned your way as she raised a single well-groomed eyebrow and attempted to sound as unconcerned as possible, "I don't know what you're referring to. I'm acting completely and utterly sane".

Linking an arm with your friend, you both continued to walk as you sarcastically agreed, "Oh yes, of course. Except that was the tenth time you've stopped to stare at your reflection and tried to fix your already pristine hair, Morrigan".

Mor rolled her brown eyes playfully, moving closer as a brisk wind brushed over the two of you. "You already know I'm vain; why is it such an issue if I want to stare at myself?" she asked, leading in the direction the two of you were walking.

"I didn't say there was an issue. I'm just pointing out that we're heading towards a certain someone's shop, and she's going to love how you look no matter what". Mor hid her face for once, but you could still see the rosy colour deepening in her cheeks.

She quickly recovered by lifting her head and flicking the blonde strands behind her shoulders. "You're one to talk. I've seen you searching over your shoulder 50 times now. Wouldn't it be because of a certain family member of mine, would it?"

There was no hiding the grin that spread across your face as your pulse quickened ever so slightly. "Nyx doesn't even know that I'm in Windhaven. I might not even see him; I'm not here for him."

"Who says I was talking about Nyx? I'm pretty sure Feyre and Rhys are here too", she laughs as you shove your shoulder into hers playfully. As you both calm down, Mor's expression turns more serious. She glances at you, "I'm surprised he hasn't sensed you're here yet. I also don't necessarily think he'll welcome you with open arms; he's attempted to shield you from this side of his life. As hard as we are trying to change the cultures and traditions of the Illyrians, most of them are still unpleasant to be around, especially if you happen to be a female, wings or not."

"You didn't have to bring me here, you know".

"Yes, well, don't make me regret it. Stay nice and close to me, and anyway", Mor paused as she paused outside Emeries shop. "I needed an excuse to come here", she admitted with as much sheepishness as Morrigan would ever allow another person to see.

You couldn't help but grin as you squealed, "Ha! I knew it!"

The bell dinged above the shop door as you followed the blonde through the door. The answer, welcomed by Emerie by the counter, "There you both are! Welcome to Windhaven, stay away from the males, and please have a lovely time", she beams, walking around the counter towards Mor.

Glancing around to give both women a private moment, you admired her shop and eyed some of the winter clothing that would be perfect for the cold weather approaching Velaris in a few months. As you ran your fingers over the lining of a beautiful coat and casually suggested over your shoulder, "If you want, I can watch the shop if you two happen to find your way upstairs. Didn't you say you have some new socks in the back room?"

"Oh yes, thank you for the reminder!" Emerie played with your antics and took Mor's hand, dragging her into the back. Smiling at seeing their happiness, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the man whom you'd been searching for from the second of landing in Windhaven.

You and Nyx had been friends since childhood. You'd spotted a young boy flying over the Sidra, mesmerised by the freeness of his movements, not watching where you were walking, tripped and scratched your knee on the pavement. Having watched it all from the sky, Nyx landed beside you and helped you home. He hadn't laughed like the other children; he'd shown compassion and kindness.

The son of the High Lord and Lady quickly became one of your closest friends, spending every waking hour possible together when you weren't in lessons or he was in training. Along the way, lines became blurred, and you were infatuated with one another. The relationship was intense, to say the least, and the two of you often joked about being mates, but no sign of the bond had occurred yet.

Not that this mattered to you. You were thoroughly and obsessively in love with Nyx, and he was with you. In fact, his obsession and possessive behaviour were renowned throughout Velaris. Every occupant knew that you were Nyx's; if a single hair on your head was out of place, he would bring all of the power of the Night Court down on them. It was extreme at first, but in truth, you were not much of a fighter, so being able to walk around Velaris with the reputation of belonging to Nyx was a relief.

Now, however, it had been weeks since you saw him as he'd been training with the other Illyrians, and even though he used his daemati skills to talk mind to mind with you or he left intimate little notes throughout your home, it couldn't ease the ache in your chest. So when Mor mentioned visiting Emerie's shop in Windhaven, you jumped at the opportunity to see, hoping you'd run into him, even if he didn't want you near the camps.

Lost in your thoughts of black hair and vibrant blue eyes, you'd not noticed that someone had entered the shop until a male growled from behind you, "Where is she?"

Jumping and turning on the spot, you looked the Illyrian over from the golden-brown skin covered in the darkest black tattoos that stretched up his neck and over the sides of his shaved head, leaving a tuft of hair down the centre. His membranous wings were widely spread as he stood in a defensive stance, fists tightly clenched at his side and armour creased from lack of care.

"Who?" you asked innocently, facing him fully and trying not to let his anger intimidate you even though you could already smell the sourness of your anxiety and fear in the air. The stranger walks forward, the tips of his wings knocking into a collection of hats, all toppled to the floor. "Watch where you're walking!"

The male stops a step away, tilting his head and frowning with even more vigour, "What did you just say to me?" As he took another step forward, you matched his step with one backwards until you were pressed against the wall with him towering over you.

"Just - Just watch it, ok? You're knocking over the display" You pointed to the knocked-over items, but he didn't take his eyes off of you, searching over your body until your skin crawled with discomfort.

"Wherever that thief is, give her this", he shoves the letter that had been screwed up in his meaty hands into your chest. You gasp out loud at the pain that rips through your shoulder, knowing it is going to bruise, and you have to look away to hide the tears that had formed as you grasp the letter and watch him leave.

It was only as the bell rang as the male exited that Emerie and Mor rushed into the room with a dagger in hand as they rushed to your side. If it wasn't for the shock and pain in your shoulder, you would have commented and jested how they both looked flustered with dishevelled hair and swollen lips, but this was the last thing on your mind now.

"Who was just here? Why do you smell of fear?" Mor asked as she rested a hand on your arm, looking at you furiously with concern.

"I don't know his name, but he gave me this for you, Emerie." You held out the letter, ignoring how your fingers trembled as she accepted it with a roll of her eyes.

"His name is Prumlos. He works closely with my uncle, and they believe they have rights to my shop. No matter how often I tell them, they keep coming back. Unlucky for me, he trains here in Windhaven and often brings new threatening letters from my extended family. He's a really brute", she pauses as she eyes you closely, "are you ok? Did he harm you in any way?"

Swallowing the thick lump formed in your throat, you attempt to compose yourself, not wishing to seem weak in front of these two strong females. Maybe you'd been sheltered too much throughout your life, but you didn't want to be emotionally broken just because one arrogant male was rude to you, even if your shoulder throbbed terribly.

"He just gave me the letter", you managed to spit out, not looking either female in the eye.

"Bullshit. I can still smell your fear; what did he do?" Mor demanded, stepping closer.

"Nothing! I mean, he was just an arrogant male and just wanted to scare me. I'm fine, really. But could we go, please? Sorry, I know we've only just arrived. Maybe I can wait for you in the High Lord's mother's home, Mor? I just need to be shown the way". You held your breath, waiting for Mor to answer, hoping she didn't try to question you further, but thankfully, she agreed.

"I'm sorry you've been shaken up; I hope it hasn't deterred you from coming to visit me every so often," Emerie smiled gently while holding your hand.

Thanking her, you and Mor left the store and began walking down the street. "Are you sure you're ok? I can see you're still shaken up; talk to me, Little star", Mor asks a couple of silent minutes later and hearing the nickname the inner circle had named you from a child finally brought a smile to your face.

But then Mor tried to link her arm through yours, and you couldn't help but flinch as the movement caused the pain in your shoulder to worsen. Mor noticed and stopped abruptly, turning you towards her, "He did hurt you, didn't he? Tell me so I can go and deal with him".

"No! Please, Mor, can we just go? You know I hate violence".

"Do you want me to go and find Nyx?" she asked, lowering her voice.

"No!" you say urgently, looking up at her with wide eyes, "Please don't, you know how he'd react. I just want to go to Rhys' mother's home and forget about the day. I'll speak to Nyx another time".

With great reluctance, Mor nods, and the two of you continue the walk back to the home. Once inside and next to the fire, you could finally stop and relax, especially as Mor offered you a hefty glass of wine to help your nerves.

After half an hour of sipping away at the absurdly expensive win, shoes off and feet tucked beneath you, Mor suddenly sat up further in her seat with a smile, informing you, "You're about to be a very happy female".

You're confused by her statement, but then you feel it: the connection in your heart is strengthening, like the missing piece to you was suddenly warming and filling in. The front door opened, and Feyre and Rhys walked in first, followed by Cassian and Nyx.

You're half aware of Cassian's joyful greeting: "Ah, Little star! You've finally come to join the camps. We'll have you trained in no time".

You stand quickly, eyes only on Nyx as he stands in the doorway, not breathing as he stares only at you. One second, you're near the table, and the next, you're running full speed towards him, sliding across the wooden floor with your socks, not that you care as you're suddenly in his arms.

The pain had diminished the second you were reunited with him. All you cared about was breathing him in, the relaxing scents of spice and lavender, the strength of his arms as they wrapped around your waist, keeping you up off of your feet that had tucked around his hips. Your fingers clenched into curling hair at the nape of his neck, not caring that it was sweaty from where he'd been training. He could be covered in mud, and you would have jumped into his arms with as much enthusiasm.

The others in the room pretended to look busy as he continued to hold you, his face moving into the nape of his neck, and he took a deep breath, breathing in your scents. Nyx's voice was like dark silk, wrapping around you entirely as he said, "I knew you were here. I mean, I thought I was losing my mind; an hour ago, the tightness in my chest eased".

You couldn't help but giggle, kissing his cheek, "That was me; I arrived about an hour ago". Pulling back in his arms, the back of your fingers caressed against his cheek, admiring the light stubble that had grown since you'd last seen him. "I like this", you admire.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his thumbs stroking circles from where he still held up your body.

"I came to see my best friend, of course", you claimed, watching his handsome features as his smile grew to a grin, the dimple in his cheek deepening beneath your thumb. "Yes, I came to see my best friend Emerie", you joked as Nyx rolled his crystal blue eyes before moving his face back to nuzzle against your jaw.

"I've missed you", he mumbles, not caring that you both had an audience and your heart clenched tighter at the need in his voice.

"I've missed you too, more than you could ever know".

"If you two aren't mates, I'll eat my trousers", Cassian quips sarcastically over the rim of his glass of wine. Mor slaps his arm for interrupting as you're lowered back to the floor by Nyx, but you still lean on the tip of your toes, pushing your chest against his to remain close.

Admiring the passionate way Nyx is searching your face, you turn to grin as Cass is over your shoulder when the sudden deathly shift in the air has you freezing. The faelights casting a golden glow across the house dimmed as the room became cold, the fire extinguishing in a single breath.

Your head spins as you turn back to Nyx, who is staring at the opening of your shirt beneath your neck.

"What's that mark?" Nyx asked, his voice a terrifying tone you'd only heard on a handful of occasions. Instinctively, you were stepping back, but his gentle hand grabbed yours, keeping you close. You can sense his family moving closer, and Nyx doesn't wait for you to answer his question. He carefully releases your hand and pushes aside the material of your blouse until your shoulder is exposed.

Glancing down, you could see now that where Prumlos had shoved the letter into your shoulder earlier had now formed a deep purple bruise. Nyx leans forward, sniffs your skin, and his spine instantly stiffens.

"Who did that to you?" he asks, voice thick with venom and anger.

You're unable to give him an answer as Mor is suddenly by your side, holding open your shirt to stare at the injury as she gasps, "I asked if he hurt you!"

"He?!" Nyx growls, looking between Mor and you.

Attempting to take a step away from both of them, you try and calm the energy, sensing it is escalating to a level that could not be returned from. It wasn't that Nyx was scaring you; it was quite the opposite, as his protection made you feel safe; you were just frightened that he would do something he couldn't undo and start a war within the camps.

"I'm fine; it doesn't even hurt anymore" you tried to reason, but that only made Nyx breathe heavily out of his nose as he turned to Mor.

"Who did this? Give me his name. Tell me right now, Morrigan!"

Thankfully, Mor didn't answer immediately and glanced at you from the corner of your eye, knowing that you didn't want to cause a fuss, so she didn't respond immediately, which only frustrated Nyx more in his crusade for revenge. "This is why you shouldn't have bought her here! I told you on multiple occasions that it wasn't safe!"

"Nyx, you need to take a breath; maybe you and your father should go outside and release some of that energy" Feyre tried to reason with him, stepping closer, but it was useless; Nyx was like a boiling pot of deathly anger. Shadows pulsed and darkened around him, travelling up the length of his muscular arms and around his neck. Rhys and Cassian finally began to step forward, moving into a warrior stance between Mor, Feyre and Nyx, even attempting to urge you behind them, but there was no way you were being forced away from Nyx.

Stepping toe to toe with him, your fingers moved back to cradling his face, forcing his now icey eyes onto you, and for a fraction of a second, he seemed calmer. "Nyx, please listen to me, I'm fine. Everything is ok, it was just-"

You were unable to finish your sentence because his knees buckled, and he audibly gulped down air as all signs of anger and pain disappeared from his eyes and tears lined the edges. "Nyx?"

"Mate", he whispers in awe, leaning his forehead against yours as his arms come around your waist, holding you delicately.

You could feel it, too, like an elastic band was tied around your heart, strengthening with each passing second. "I can feel it too"," you confirmed with glee, tears beginning to fill your eyes with the sudden realisation of what was happening. You and Nyx were mates. The Cauldron had blessed you both; even after waiting what felt like a lifeline for the bond to confirm itself, you both knew it had only been a matter of time. The relief was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before.

"Finally!" Cassian cheered, loosening his warrior stance to return to his glass of wine, raising it towards where you and Nyx stood in the entryway. "Welcome to the family, Little Star!"

You grin up tearfully towards Nyx, who in turn returns the joy, but that all disappears as the anger and rage return full force as he growls, "Someone hurt my mate". Moving away from you, he faces Mor and demands, "Tell me his name, Mor, I know you know it. Don't make me find it out".

Morrigan shifts, rolling her shoulders back as she looks down at Nyx, which is an incredible feat considering the fact that he is considerably taller than her. "Are you threatening me, Nyx??

"He hurt my mate!" he bellows at her, but she doesn't so much as flinch as she shifts her gaze to you, looking like she's contemplating a hundred thoughts at once. Then, without looking away, she confirms the man's name.

"Prumlos".

Nyx vanishes before you have time to stop him, and seconds pass before the ground trembles and shakes the home's foundation.

"No! I didn't want violence! Why did you tell him, Mor?!" you gawped at the blond, who didn't look remotely sorry.

As Rhysand grabs Cassian and winnows away, Mor steps closer with Feyre at her side. "I told him because we protect our own. Not only has he hurt you, but he's also threatening Emerie; he deserves what's coming to him. In fact, I shouldn't have faltered with telling Nyx, that is my only regret".

You feel defeated and stare at your feet with a thousand thoughts dizzying your mind. Was Nyx ok? Was he hurt? When would he come back? He was your mate. Nyx was YOUR mate.

A pair of brown leather boots entered your vision as Feyre stepped close, wrapping an arm carefully over your not-injured shoulder as she directed you towards the table, kissing your cheek as she moved, "Welcome to the family, properly that is. You've always been one of us, Little Star. Now, why don't you take a seat and I'll see if we have any healing ointments remaining in the cupboards".

Thankfully, Feyre had found a purple ointment that had already worked enough that the pain in your shoulder was considerably less, and the colour of the bruising was now a subtle yellow. Nibbling nervously on the corner of your thumb as you awaited your mate's return, it finally dawned on you. "Wait, how am I supposed to do this? Aren't mates supposed to have a ceremony or something?"

"There can be a ceremony where you offer Nyx some food; we can organise it once we return to Velaris if you'd like? Or if you'd rather not wait, you could offer him food whenever you'd like", Feyre explained warmly with a gentle smile that matched Nyx's.

"I don't think I want to wait. We've all known we would be mates, and waiting for this bond has been slow, so I don't want to wait to accept his bond.

"Why don't you go and have a look in the kitchen? There might be something here", Mor encouraged with a nod towards the back of the house.

You scoured the kitchen cupboards for any sort of food, but with the house having not been in proper use for years, there was nothing except some stale bread on the kitchen table with suspicious-looking green mould on the edges. Even after ripping away the discoloured sections of the bread, you still eyed it with uncertainty.

Stepping out of the kitchen and returning to the dining area, you were surprised to find that Mor and Feyre had gone, and Nyx now stood calmly in the centre of the room, his eyes watching your every breath.

"Where did everyone go?" you ask, trying to fill the thick tension with some noise.

Nyx smiled, not enough to show his dimple but enough to have your shoulders dropping with ease as he stated, "I don't care where they've gone, as long as you remain". Those blazing eyes lowered to your hands as he sucked in a powerful breath as he looked at the stale bread that you were still holding.

As he took several steps forward, you couldn't help but ask, "What did you do to him?"

"What he deserved". There wasn't a speck of blood on his leathery uniform. "What are you doing with that bread?" he asked in a low voice.

You're unsure why you're so nervous when you answer, "Oh, um. It was meant to be for you. I can't find anything else for the mating bond, but it's stale and has mould over it. Maybe I can find a little shop here to find some proper food and serve that to you- NYX!"

Closing the gap between you, he takes the bread out of your hands and, without taking his eyes off of yours, begins to chew the bread that was so clearly dry and stale as he chewed for considerably longer than he should have.

As he finally swallows, you're reaching up for him, resting your hands on his chest and feeling the racing of his heart beneath your palms. "You're my mate", you breathe in awe, forgetting everything that had happened that day and only focusing on the man before you.

"I am. I'm yours, and you're mine", he states with as much wonderment as you felt in your soul.

Grinning up at him, you remind him, "Forever. You're mine forever". The tension beneath your fingers eases as he takes a steadying breath, and then his eyes lower to the edges of your blouse.

You watch with bated breath as he checks the mostly healed bruise. "I'm sorry if I frightened you earlier".

"Nyx, you could never frighten me, " you reassure and tip a finger beneath his chin so that he has to look at your face, not the injury.

"I've always wanted to keep you safe. Seeing that bruise on you today, I was ready to destroy the world to find out who harmed you".

"I know". You watch as he nuzzles into your palm, kissing the centre as you try to lighten the mood, "You're very intense, you know that, right" you say with a light laugh.

Nyx grins, that precious dimple capturing your attention. "I'm more than intense; I'm obsessed. I've been obsessed for years, and now, there's no escaping me" he chuckles as his hand cups around the backs of your thighs and lifts you up, your arms and legs wrapping around his firm body.

"I thought it was just me with the obsession", you retort whilst curling your fingers into his hair once more. Leaning your forehead against him, you both just breathe the other in, eyes closed and hearing the hearts beating as one.

"There hasn't been a second since you entered my life where I haven't wanted you to be by my side. I think I always knew, even when we were children. And now, you're mine".

"Officially", you joke with a giggle, squeezing your arms and legs more firmly around him.

"Officially, my mate", he agrees and then sighs, balancing your weight on one arm so that he could move aside your blouse and kiss the lightening bruise. "I don't want you to come back here again if you can help it. I don't trust these males".

"That's fine with me. I don't particularly want to return, no matter how lovely Emerie's shop is. I don't know how you can stand to be here, let alone train with them", you agreed wholeheartedly.

"You deserve to be in nice and happy places like Velaris, and I can deal with dreadful places like this. It's in my blood, after all". Nyx took a moment to admire your beauty before he stepped forward and winnowed the two of you into his bedroom in the River House in Velaris. "Finally back where we both belong. Now, you're wearing too many clothing articles".

"Wait, don't you have training?" you ask in confusion.

"Not anymore. They'll have to come here and fight me to drag me back to that shit hole tonight. I have other plans now anyway". As he finished talking, he gently eased you onto the navy silk sheets of his bed, resting his arm next to your head as he looked down at you.

You giggle as his hair falls into his face. Reaching up, you pushed the dark curls back to see him grinning at you with just as much glee. "Mmm, I love that sound", he admires before lowering his face to the junction of your neck, his lips pressing against the sensitive area, causing a shiver to burst over your skin.

"What sound?" you ask in a daze.

"You laughing. Your happiness. It's the best sound in the world", he groans as his lips travel up the slope of your neck before teasing your earlobe.

"You're being extra soppy today, Nyx", you say halfheartedly, secretly loving how open he was with his emotions.

However, the man above you freezes, his mouth next to your ear as he asks, "Say that again".

You know exactly which word he wanted you to repeat as you sigh happily, close your eyes and say, "Nyx".

He moans deeply, his hips rutting into the bed with a thrust as a shiver shakes his large frame. "Again," he asks as he lowers his hands to palm your breasts through your blouse.

It was your turn to sigh before whispering, "Nyx".

He lowers his body, kissing down your sternum as he unbuttons the material, exposing your bra and soft skin to him. Your fingers continue to weave through his hair, subtly scratching against his scalp as he doesn't stop on his journey lower. Next, he removes your jeans and socks until all that remains is your underwear.

He appeared to be a man possessed as he stared at you beneath him, biting your lip in need. With an easy snap of his fingers, he tore through the centre of your bra and pushed the useless straps off of your shoulders and down your arms and then repeated the tearing with your underwear.

Nyx utterly admired every inch of your body, his eyes full of emotions and desires. He seemed conflicted, though, unsure whether to spend his sweet time kissing and tasting every inch of your body. Still, as you spread your legs and directed him where you truly wanted him, he growled lowly, lowering his body until he kneeled next to the bed, arms wrapped around your thighs and feasted between your legs.

"Nyx!" you cried out, eyes closing and back arching from the stimulation.

The two of you had been intimate for years, both losing your virginities together and exploring each other's bodies; you knew one another better than yourselves. Nyx liked to show this off as he perfectly flicked his tongue and held you firmly with his hands; you were begging in a matter of seconds. The man bringing you closer and closer to the edge chuckled as he felt you tremble with restraint, knowing he was only doing enough to keep you on the very brink, loving the desperate little cries you released until it was all too much, and you cried out, "Please! Nyx!"

Sucking on your clit was all that he needed to do to have you spiralling into euphoric bliss. Your thighs trembled as they squeezed around his head, but he would happily be suffocated between your legs, so let the warmth of the press into his cheeks until you'd calmed down enough to relax the muscles.

Breathlessly, you looked down your body to where he was grinning, kissing the top of your pubis before licking his shiny lips.

"You're wearing too many clothes". The armour he was wearing vanished in a flicker of magic. Sitting up on the bed, your hands wound around his toned shoulders, feeling the muscle ripple and move beneath as you tugged him closer and kissed him with all the desperation you could muster.

Both of you were moving with such urgency that your emotions were overwhelmed, tears spilling down your cheeks as you cried out the words, "Mine!" repeatedly. You'd heard of the frenzy after a mating bond is accepted, but you never anticipated it to feel this chaotic. You needed every single inch of him, wanted to taste his body, feel the warmth of his skin, and hear the moans from between his lips. There was too much to do, and your brain was engulfed with the need to do everything simultaneously.

Gripping onto his arms, you pulled Nyx so that he was now the one lying in the centre of the bed as you moved to straddle over his waist. With your lips still desperately moving together, tongue caressing and deepening into each other's mouths, your hands finally grasped around the thick, veiny length of your mate.

During any other intimate moment, you would have admired the sheer size of him or the beautiful sensation of him throbbing between your fingers, but right now, all you were desperate to do was give him pleasure.

Squeezing your fingers more firmly around the shaft, you moved up and down, using your thumb to smear the precum over the head. He shivered at the touch, his abs tightening and flexing as he groaned in pleasure.

"Need to be inside of you", he pleaded against your lips. You didn't need to tell twice as you roused high on your knees and direct the tip of his cock towards your drenched hole. You only gave yourself a second to adjust to the sheer size of him before you were rotating your hips and beginning to rock back and forth with increasing speed.

Nyx's arms wrapped around your spine, reaching to grasp onto the back of your shoulder so he had a good foundation to hold and fuck his hips up in time to meet yours. The firmness of his strokes had you seeing stars with how deep he felt. You were utterly consumed by Nyx.

The two of you were fucking each other with such a bruising pace that all you could do was dig your nails into his chest and ride him like your life depended on it. It was only a matter of minutes until you were coming, squeezing your walls tightly around his cock until he, too, was tipping his head back and grunting your name with his own pleasure.

You all but collapsed on top of his chest, greedily sucking in air that smelled entirely of him, and you couldn't get enough. It seemed he couldn't for you either as you continued to feel his hardness within you, not softening even after his orgasm.

Before long, with your face still plastered to his sweaty chest, your hips began to roll, his cock nudging deep inside of you.

"I can't fucking get enough of you", you gasp as he throbbed within you.

Nyx rolled the two of you over, so now he was on top, your legs repositioned so that they were against his shoulders, and you were all but bent in half, the angle meaning he could fuck even deeper.

"Yes! Nyx, please don't stop!" you scream, reaching over his shoulders and stroking the sensitive membrane of his wings, watching them flare behind his back.

"Say it", he begs, his eyes glazed whilst looking down at you.

"Nyx!"

"Yes! Say you're mine!"

"I'm yours!" Nyx moves harder, his hand slipping down your legs until his thumb could circle your clit.

"That's right", he grunts between thrusts, "And I'm yours. Forever".

You orgasm so hard you're sure you black out for a couple of seconds because, in the next breath, Nyx is beside you, spooning himself around you, kissing along your collarbones and stroking his palm down your stomach.

"I didn't go too hard on you, did I?" he asks with a rough voice.

You smile softly whilst reaching up to scratch your nails behind his ear, tucking the curls behind his pointed ears, careful not to snag the strands on the multiple silver hoops in his ear. "Not at all, I loved every second".

Nyx grinned, and the starlight that usually glowed in his eyes returned for the first time that day, and he was finally at ease.

"I can't believe you ate that stale bread", you say, laughing at the memory.

"I would have eaten the mould too if you'd given it to me. Whatever food you gave me, I would have accepted it with need in my heart". Those perfect lips of his began to kiss across your cheek and down your throat; however, now that the madness of needing to have sex with him had calmed for a moment, you could actually look him over properly, and that's when you noticed the doting of bruises over his arms and chest, all in different stages of healing.

You tense and ask urgently, "Were these from him? Earlier in the day, I mean?"

Nyx moves away from kissing your throat to look at what you're referring to, shaking his head and casually explaining, "No, they're from training. That asshole didn't have time to make a move against me before I-". You'd lost the ability to hear anything further as a fire burned so thoroughly throughout your soul that it momentarily stole your breath. Red burning anger pulsed in your soul, unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

Before a coherent thought could drift through your mind, you're pushing away from Nyx and climbing out of bed on unsteady legs. Needing to half crawl on the floor before righting your posture, you marched towards his bedroom door.

"Woah, Little Star", Nyx is suddenly in front of you, blocking your exit as he holds his hands up.

You try and push past him, but he just carefully eases you away from the door, "Let me past!" you shout in frustration, trying to wiggle past him.

"I don't think so", he responds gently and calmly.

"Nyx, let me out of this house!" You don't get far through as he moves to press your body against the wooden door.

"And what exactly do you think you're going to do?"

Baring your teeth at him over your shoulder, you continued trying to get out of his hold. "I'll kill everyone who harmed you!"

"Oh really?" Nnyx says lightheartedly and with a slight chortle. "You'll kill them? Miss' I despise violence'?"

You turn around so that you're chest to chest with Nyx, looking up at his with eyes so full of fury he actually bulked and softened his laughter. "Whoever hurt you doesn't deserve to live! They hurt you. My mate. MY MATE. They won't live to see the night!"

Nyx wasn't sure how to calm you down, having never seen you with such anger pulsing through your veins before, but he did what he thought was best: distract you. His fingers clutched desperately into your hair as his mouth pressed against yours firmly enough to cause bruises.

You fight and push against him at first, but then thoughts of anger and pain dissolve into lust and need as you're once more desperately grabbing him. Tearing your mouth away, you kiss down his throat, tasting the salty spice of his natural scent.

"These feelings, they will pass", Nyx reassures as he closes his eyes, thoughts entirely on your mouth as you close your lips around his nipple, biting the sensitive bud.

"So you get to have revenge on someone that wrong me, but I don't get to do the same for you?" you ask whilst looking up at him through your lashes, your nails scratching down his abs before grabbing his once more hardening cock.

He releases another long breath, trying to keep his composure as he thrusts into your palm. "I'm saying that I've had a lifetime of training, and taking care of one pathetic asshole was light work. The mating bond is the intense anger you're feeling, protecting my pride. Everything is so new and fresh, but it will pass Little Star. You'll understand that these bruises were all part of my training in a couple of hours. Everyone has similar marks, making the training brutal and volatile. So this feeling, it will pass. Anyway, you are not leaving this room naked with my cum still dripping down my thighs".

You're finally beginning to relax as your harsh touches soften until you're gently cupping his shaft and looking up at him sheepishly, "I thought you would have liked it if everyone got to see who I belonged to?"

Turning on the spot, you rested your hot cheek against the cool wood of the door and began to grind your arse against his cock, "Mmm, don't tempt me", he growls against the side of your face as he moves closer, bending his knees so he could position his cock into your cunt.

Nyx proceeds to fuck you so hard against the door that it begins to crack down the centre. But neither of you stopped for hours. Not until you were both thoroughly exhausted that neither could stand.

"I love you," he whispers against your lips as you teeter on unconsciousness's edge.

"I love you too", you tiredly say back, eyes drooping, and the darkness of sleep welcomed you into its abyss.

#nyx #nyx archeron #nyx acotar #nyx smut #nyx x reader #nyx acotar smut #nyx acotar x reader #acotar smut #acotar #mine*

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nerinefy · 3 months

Text

FOREVER YOURS, TRULY...! — NEW YEAR'S SPECIAL PART II

PART III — GEPARD LANDAU (TO BE FOLLOWED)

★ synopsis: nothing much, just yanqing spoiling jing yuan's plans. pretend you didn't hear anything.

★ details: pronouns: you/yours | imagine | fluff | 600+ words

★ JING YUAN ★

It was a chilly evening at his office. Laying comfortably on a chair that surprisingly appeared after visiting once, you watch your significant other- Jing Yuan, focus on the paperwork he's been stuck on for what felt like an eternity. "Why are you even taking care of those? You're a general." You asked the man beside you with puffed cheeks and a pout which made him chuckle in amusement.

"My love, do you really think all I do is...throw hands and wish for the best out on the battlefield?" He asked, seemingly curious.

"I mean...don't you? Or am I missing something?" You tilt your head as he stifles a laugh.

"It looks like I left you alone for too long, come now." He stands up and reaches for your hand, you take them as you let him lead you outside, leaving numerous documents behind. You watch as his steps take you to the balcony. The wind was blowing fiercely and you shiver at the cold. "I'm sorry 'hun, I forgot it was quite breezy here because of the fire back inside," he apologizes, taking off a large coat he had on to wrap around you. The remaining warmth he'd spread on the coat envelopes you, as you feel a hand intertwine yours.

"You're so warm you know? Like a big fuzzy lion." You utter in between giggles.

"That just shows that..." he leans down inching your face, "I really am fit to be yours, you cold-blooded creature," he mumbles as his eyes stare intensely at yours.

"I am not! It was just co-" You exclaim in defense, when suddenly you feel soft lips crash towards yours, stopping you from completing your statement. These soft lips lingered for a moment, relishing the taste of yours. Warmth spreads throughout your body, and you feel as though it's not just from his touch. After a while, he breaks free from the kiss, catching his breath in the process. "That was rude, General, I was still talking." You say in mock annoyance, him laughing in turn.

"I'm sorry, could I ever make it up to you...?"

"Oh shush."

The cold wind continued to rush through you, as you watched the skies above in astonishment. Slowly, you wonder, and later ask, "Hey um, why are we here exactly?"

"Oh, there's no such reason...It's just that, it's been quite a suffocating few days and I thought I could have the time to breathe here..." He trails off, pausing to think of what to say next. "Anyway, it's nothing really, I'm just glad you're next to me right now." He finishes a slight smile appearing on his face. "I'm grateful, truly, even though I've been very busy with numerous responsibilities I hold with the Luofu, you've been nothing but patient and understanding. It's hard to juggle through my workload but ever since you came and been by my side, it felt like it was a little bearable." He then smiles as he faces you, "It's times like these when I'm reminded that...you're here and I don't have to keep it all in my chest. So my love, thank you-"

"Happy engagement! You didn't tell me it was supposed to be right now- you left the ring at your desk when I came to check in." A voice was suddenly heard, disrupting your man's speech (?) for you. He sighs, looking clearly disappointed despite being surprised for a moment.

He can only mutter a, "Yanqing..."

"Oh, oops..." The boy murmurs, breaking into a cold sweat.

"...What ring..?" You ask with raised brows, still surprised.

"Can we uh, do a redo for the actual thing- just pretend to be surprised when that happens."

"Yanqing..."

author's note: this took- um...a while. better late than never ig hehe

#★ ꒷₊˚ ꒰ఎ rinnie's works! ໒꒱ ‧˚₊꒷#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #honkai star rail #honkai: star rail #hsr #jing yuan x reader

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yelenasdog · 1 year

Text

vibrant, saccharine, his ☼ (fwb!mat barzal x fwb!fem reader)

genre: filthy smut, fluff, angst with happy ending

summary: pretending is getting harder, for both of them. and after a hard roadie, mat’s not sure if he wants to pretend anymore.

words: 8.7k (WOAH)

warnings: cursing, excessive use of parentheses, friends with benefits arrangement, smut, unprotected piv, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, blood (reader bit lip too hard oops!), pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty boy), reader is described as having sisters and a dog, food mention, idiots to lovers, misunderstood situation, reader uses she/her pronouns, and i think that’s it.

a/n: when i started this, i originally was just writing a blurb and then it turned into a full ass fic with a plot?? and fwb??? idk man, im nervy to post this since ive never published for nhlers before but oh whale! and ty to @eminems-skittles for reading this for me and checking it over 🤍 love u

“You played so good, baby.” She breathed, welcoming him home with open arms.

“Not good enough, apparently.” He responded, letting her fingers card through his raven locks. Soft, freshly cut. She loved when he grew it out, but yet again it was him, so anything worked.

She sighed, letting her thumb fall to his cheekbone, knowing what he was referring to. It had been the last stop of the road trip, he’d had a hatty and despite making it to OT, it wasn’t enough in the shootout.

He’d had to wait an entire flight and car ride afterwards to see her, only giving her a brief text when he got off the ice (“We lost. Had a hatty. Fucking Toronto.”) (like she hadn’t stayed up to watch the game) and another when he landed.

And after so long of whatever the two of them had going on, she’d known better than to try to send him some long and winded attempt at a pick me up message. She settled for just responding “I’ll be here.” She didn’t need to say it though, he knew she’d be there.

She always was.

To anyone else it would’ve been sad, how she waited up for him, late nights spent lonely with just her and her dog, as he jetted around North America. In her mind, he was no doubt giving himself away to whatever random puck bunny threw herself his way.

Despite this, she was loyal, even though she had her suspicions about what he did when they were apart. And frankly, it wasn’t a part of the “deal” that they had to be exclusive, and it was none of her business. But truthfully, after so long, she couldn’t count on some washed up juniors player to give her even a fraction of the satisfaction he had.

So, she did this whole routine, whatever this was. She stayed up late watching his games, sitting on her couch in his sweatshirt he left. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but whenever she wore it, she liked to pretend.

Pretend that she was an obedient girlfriend wearing her loving boyfriends sweater. That as she sat curled up waiting on the corner of the beat up black sofa, 3 coffees in at approximately 1:37 am, she would be rewarded for her efforts come morning time.

That her and said loving boyfriend would lounge around together in bed (after he woke her up in the best way he knew how, showing her how grateful he was. Like I said, she loved when his hair was long enough to tug on, and even though she endlessly made fun of his patchy stubble, she couldn’t deny how delicious it felt burning between her thighs. Especially after they’d spent so long apart.) Then they’d go and grab late brunch, holding hands under the table as they sipped mimosas, which were Mat’s guilty pleasure only her and the waiter knew about, before heading home.

Maybe then they’d FaceTime his mom back in Coquitlam, an early riser with the 3 hour time difference. Mat had felt bad interrupting her morning routine, but she’d never pass up an opportunity to talk to her boy and the girl who she hoped was her future daughter in law.

After they got off the phone, she’d tell him how much she loved his mom, how her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. He’d tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, watching as she leaned into his touch.

“Missed you, Mat.” She’d say, closing her eyes.

“I missed you more.” He’d respond, his voice nearly a whisper. Her eyes would flutter open, and he’d recognize the look in them immediately. He felt his blood rush, and suddenly their proximity, which he’d never get used to, was very obvious.

“Oh yeah?” She asked. “I doubt that.”

He swallowed, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Her eyes hungrily swept over them, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and capture them with her own.

But patience is a virtue, she supposed.

“Want me to prove it, pretty boy?”

Words failed him, and all he could do was nod. He relaxed into the sofa, watching as she dropped to her knees in front of him. Her hands were on either thigh as he fought the urge to lay his tired head back onto the beat up pleather behind him. It had been too long, he thought. And he’d be damned if he was going to miss out on seeing her do what he’d only imagined in the shower, or over the phone for the past 16 days.

She reached her hands up from the muscle of his thigh up to his tummy, her cold hands shocking him as she reached under his sweatshirt- the same one she’d been wearing before.

Her hands drifted, down, down, down, to the waistband of those damn Lululemon shorts she’d got him for Christmas. He held his breath, watching as they danced around where he needed her most and then-

The doorknob turns, and she’s brought back to reality. Sleep had almost claimed her, iced coffee left abandoned on the coffee table, a ring of condensation already drying on the glass. She attempts to smooth out her hair, hoping that her brief almost-nap hadn’t left her too disheveled.

Not that he’d care.

She stood to greet him as he opened the door, hockey bag, and garment bag, and duffle bag, and backpack, and- God, did he really need all that- and suitcase, dropped unceremoniously as he entered the threshold. He kicked the huge bag to the side, and it landed right under where her keys and her leash for her old mutt, Warrior, hung from the wall.

Above the leash hung a picture of her and her sisters, with her running shoes on the floor beneath it for easy access. They were nearly squished by the gear, and if it had been anyone else’s shit crushing her 160 dollar sneakers, she’d be angry. But the sight of his bag near her shoes was so weirdly domestic, she could’ve cried.

She, yet again, was snapped out of her fantasy by the closing of the heavy door, watching as the man in front of her shuffled forward, immediately allowing himself to be held by her. His head fell to her shoulder, and rather than the usual clash of teeth and shoving to get to her room, (they never went to never his place after a roadie. He needed to be away from the constant reminders of it all for awhile, just to be surrounded by her) she simply dropped a chaste kiss to his temple, letting her arm drop from his hair to his broad shoulders, squeezing once, twice, three times, on either one.

He stood up, and she led him to her room, though he knew the way well enough. Her hand in his felt nice, comforting, even, and he wasn’t going to complain. In the beginning of the arrangement the two of them had, touches like that had been normal. But as time went on, the barely there brushes and gentle caresses stopped all together.

He wanted to say something, wanted to ask her what was wrong, if it was something he did. But when he was off the ice, Mathew Barzal was not a man who liked to push his luck. So he didn’t. He let the touches slip away, and took what he could get from her.

Which right now, was toeing off his shoes, and crawling onto the plush comforter of her bed. It smelled like that sparkly ”fairy dust” shit from Lush he saw sitting on her bathroom counter once, cotton candy and bubblegum infiltrating his senses. That, and her favorite floral perfume he was all too familiar with on her pillow. A combination of scents he usually would find too much, sickly-sweet. But it was her, and that alone made it the most soothing aroma he’d ever known.

Initially when he’d gotten off the ice, the adrenaline had been pumping, and his anger had been rampant. All he’d wanted was to get home to her, have his way with her. To have an outcome he could control.

He’d kept himself relatively calm in the locker room, not having any outbursts towards Ilya, or anyone for that matter. If any of the guys had noticed he was uncharacteristically quiet, they didn’t say anything.

That is, until the bus ride to the airport.

He had been typing out his text to her, (Hatty, lost in OT, Toronto, you know the one), when he had felt a pair of peering eyes. Sitting in the back of the bus, he’d thought he’d done well to avoid such glances, but apparently not.

“Y’know, you shouldn’t be sulking so much.” A certain French-Canadian spoke, the brunette man’s tired eyes lingering over Mat’s hunched over form.

If there was one thing he didn’t need right now, it was more pep talks from Tito. He’d had more than his fill in the locker room. And though he loved the guy, he didn’t need to be told again how he “did everything right” and had a ”killer game”.

Because he knows, and that’s partly why he’s so mad.

Partly. As the other part is the fact that he wants more than anything to come back to NY to her arms. He was exhausted at this point, and rather than having his way with her, he now just wanted to be welcomed home into those ridiculously cozy sheets. He wanted her to light up all those overpriced candles she loved so much from Bath and Bodyworks, and for Warrior to snuggle up by him, stinky dog breath be damned. He wanted her to turn on ”Miracle” in the back as white noise, and laugh as she repeated all the lines from memory. (He may be Canadian, but he can appreciate a heart warming story told by Kurt Russell when he sees one.)

More than anything, though, he wanted her. And not just for an hour or two before he inevitably dragged himself out of those silky sheets that felt heavenly on his back, leaving her sleeping beside him. She looked peaceful in those moments, and he often wondered what she dreamt of. If she was dreaming of him as he did of her.

Bottom line was, Mathew was the victim of a series of unfortunate events. And the man to his left could recognize that it wasn’t just the hockey that was bothering him. (Though, that whole situation did suck pretty bad, he’d admit.)

So when Anthony told him he shouldn’t be sulking, he flashed him a tight lipped smile and a nod, before looking out the window at the Toronto sunset. The oranges and pinks were stunning, and more than anything their vibrancy reminded him of her. The smile she’d give him in her post-orgasm glow, or of the orange blossom on the bottle of perfume on her vanity. Beauvillier’s gaze never faltered, though, recognizing the deep train of thought his close friend was experiencing.

The screen of his phone had begun to darken, the draft of his message just barely visible. Tito’s eyes quickly shifted from the screen and back up to Barzy, opening his mouth and pausing momentarily.

“Who’re you texting?”

Mat quickly turned off the device, the “click” sounding out in the quiet bus cabin, most of the Islanders players catching some shut eye or watching that new Game of Thrones spin off.

Personally, Mat didn’t get the appeal.

“Nobody, just… a friend I’m visiting tonight when we get back.”

Anthony’s eyebrows went up, making a face of understanding as he slowly nodded three times.

“A friend, huh?”

Mathew nods, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go. “Yup.” He adds softly for good measure, popping the p.

“You visiting a friend after a game like that, this late, hm?” Another pause. ”Must be an important friend.”

“Yeah.” His voice is soft again, compassion coming across his features and he thinks of her again.

“Well“, Anthony starts, popping in his earbuds and opening his phone to his Music app. “I’d say whatever’s going on with this friend seems worth talking to her about.”

Mat‘s head snaps up, and he scoffs, shaking his head.

“I didn’t say that it was a she-“

“You didn’t have to, buddy.” Tito winks in the most annoyingly-Tito way, and chuckles to himself. He then lays his head back onto the navy material behind him. Mat “hmph”s to himself, doing the same. He turns his phone back on again, going to the chat between the two of them. The still blinking cursor seems like it’s mocking him as he runs a hand over his face, hitting send.

If there’s gonna be any deep, emotional shit, it can wait until he’s not 2500 miles away.

7 hours later when he finally crashes through her front door, he swears the relief he feels mixed with the sense of dread it all might be over in an hour, gives him whiplash. But nonetheless, she welcomes him in, and she feels like home.

Warrior watches from the couch, his tail lazily wagging as he observes his owner greeting the man who occasionally slips him bacon from his Starbucks sandwich. His old man (old dog?) body doesn’t find the arrival of the hockey player worthy of leaving his nest on the sofa, as to him that’s all Mathew Barzal is. The bringer of bacon.

To Warrior’s owner, though, he was so much more.

The trek to the bedroom felt like it took an eternity, and as he laid on her bed, he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a bad idea to push his luck for once. Risk ending it all to gain everything.

She laid down next to him, and he shifted, going from laying with his arms crossed under his head, to one next to her head, the other keeping him stable from his position on top of her.

Her hand crept up to push an unruly lock out of his eyes, and she leaned forward, and he met her halfway. They paused briefly, taking each other in after so long, before finally closing to distance.

He tasted warm, like cinnamon and something she couldn’t place, and she wondered if at the airport he’d gotten one of those pretzels she knew he liked so much. To compliment his psychopath reminiscent black coffee, of course.

His hand went from where it had been cradling her face down to rest on her hip. The soft touch elicited a whimper, and at that he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

She recognized that something was off, swimming around in that pretty little head of his. A small frown etched its way onto her face, and she lifted his chin up so he had no choice but to look at her.

“What’s wrong, Mat?”

He took in a shaky breath, looking over to his left, where the TV was on some random wallpaper, a sunset, he realizes. He scoffs, looking back at her.

“Can you just- can we- can I- fuck.” He mutters, slowly falling down so his body weight is nearly on top of her.

“Can you just… hold me?”

She swears she’s never heard him sound so broken.

“Yeah, baby, ’course. C’mere.” She replies softly, allowing him to fully rest on her. It was a miracle that he didn’t fully break down right there, at the feeling of her fingertips dancing over his skin, under his pushed up shirt. His nose was cold against her neck as he dragged it up against her to come to her cheek, pressing a kiss there. His eyes never opened, afraid that if they did, it would all just be another elaborate fantasy he’d created to pass the time.

“Is this a good idea?” Came her voice, cutting through the silence.

He sniffles. “What do you mean?”

“This. Us.” She says, not able to meet his gaze where he’s lifted his head.

“We’re going to get hurt. More than we already have.”

Oh. Oh, fuck this was happening right now. Mat sat up, feeling like a scared teenage boy. Damn you and the way you read people, Beauvillier. Maybe this would’ve been easier from 2500 miles away.

“We don’t have to.”

“What other option do we have?” She said, sounding defeated, like she already knows her answer and she doesn’t like it. “I-I can’t keep doing this no strings attached shit. Not when you do this. Not when you come here all beat up like some sad puppy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. And he was.

“Don’t be. I should’ve known this would happen.” Her voice was soft, her eyes distant.

“That what would happen?” He questioned. She looked at him like he had two heads.

“That you’d leave, Mat. That this whole pretending bullshit wouldn’t be enough for me.”

He leaned forward again, catching her off guard.

“I’m not leaving you. I’d never leave you.”

She looked away briefly, mentally cursing herself for being so emotional as tears began to well up in her eyes. He fell to her side, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Do you really want this?” She asked, the tears rolling down her face illuminated a hue of pink from the salt lamp on the bedside table. Mathew reached out a hand, dragging his thumb over the droplet. He hated that she was crying, but fuck, she sure looked pretty while doing it.

His answer came without thought, he’d done enough of that on his way over.

“Yes. I want you in every way, if you’ll have me.”

A small smile came onto the corners of her face, and she nodded, shortly at first, but more exaggerated as they started laughing, a small “yeah?” escaping from Mathew. She responded with the same, and he took that as his sign to reach forward, closing the distance between them.

And like all the times before, they fell into their routine, her hands going down to his hips, lifting the gray material of his shirt over his head. He returned the favor, the two of them moving in sync as she lifted her hips and he gently slid off her shorts. He ran his palms along her bare thighs and she shivered at the feeling, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by Mathew.

“I missed you, y/n.” He admitted, running a hand through his, now, unruly hair.

Another vibrant smile came across her face, easing whatever nerves Mat had left over from his confession.

“I missed you more, Mathew.”

He shook his head, dipping down to leave sloppy kisses on her neck. Taken aback, she let a shaky breath escape. He pulled back, satisfied with the response he’d pulled from her.

“Not possible.”

In a moment of boldness (and a slight hope to allow a fantasy to come to life) she challenged him.

“Prove it, then.”

His eyes darkened, then, and he surged forward. Her remaining clothes, which was just his sweatshirt and a flimsy cami, were gone in an instant. She was left in just a pair of black undies, Mat nearly cumming on the spot at the sight, like he’s some horny teenager. His apparel soon joined the growing pile on the floor, as she made a remark about how it wasn’t fair he was still so covered.

She shamelessly raked over his naked form, save for the black boxers, with his firm muscles, sore from the roadie, prominent as ever. She might’ve been drooling, she wasn’t sure. He smirked, the effect he had on her not lost to him.

The two began to kiss again, and there was no other way to describe it other than that it just felt right.

Mathew wasted no time, allowing his hand to trail down and cup her clothed heat, his thumb passing over her clit and past her entrance with a feather light touch. She shivered, her hips lifting up to chase the brief sensation. He pulled her panties to the side, teasing her entrance with his middle finger.

It was immediately covered in her slick, as was the black fabric he’d moved aside. It made him groan just from the sensation alone, making her chuckle at his behavior. Her laugh soon was cut off as he sunk the finger in, giving her no time to adjust, not that she needed it with how ready she was for it, before adding another.

His palm just barely grazed her begging clit as he pumped in and out slowly. And as she continued to lift her hips trying to feel him deeper, push his hand closer to her clit, she fully expected him to push her down and put her in her place.

But this whole thing was about showing him how much he missed her, how much he appreciated her. To show her that he was staying. And him staying meant that he’d have plenty of chances in the future to be an insufferable tease, but right now wasn’t one of those times.

“Matty, please-“ it was more of a breathy whine, not intelligible to an untrained ear. But thankfully for her, that wasn’t Mat.

“You want more, baby?” He questioned, knowing the answer. She nodded, hair splayed around her like a halo on the pillow. She was still illuminated from the TV screen and the salt lamp, making her look like an angel of sorts, not of this world.

“Look at me then, sweetheart. Wanna see that I’m makin’ you feel good.”

Her eyes that met his were glazed over and doe like, and it melted Mat’s insides at just one look. He did his best to push down the mushy feeling that arose, before realizing he didn’t have to anymore. He could feel as sickeningly in love as he wanted, no consequences.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. So needy, fuckin’ perfect girl.” He remarked, adding in a third finger. She let out a borderline pornographic cry, and Mat picked up his pace. His gaze only faltered from her face, contorting in pleasure, back to where he was pumping in and out of her, unable to resist the urge to watch in amazement.

Though her legs were flailing, going from propped up to sliding down and spread, rustling the comforter, she somehow had enough mind to reach a hand down. She attempted to run tight circles around her clit, but not before her hand was pinned to her side by the center above her,

“No, baby. Lemme.”

His range of motion was wider and his thrusts harder as he curled his fingers to perfectly hit that spot inside her that made her see stars, fully trailing his hand over her sex. He repeated the action again, and again, and again- and fuck, she didn’t know how long she’d go on like this but she never wanted the feeling to stop.

He felt her tighten around him, and he picked up his pace, knowing she was almost there.

“Mat!” she managed to get out between strangled moans and panting breaths. He leaned down, kissing below her ear on the one spot he knew drives her crazy. She was halfway thinking, well, less than halfway with her state at the moment, that he would cruelly pull his hand away as she reached her peak. So she clamped her thighs together in an attempt to trap him, subconsciously more than not.

It didn’t stop him from grinding his palm against her like he had been, leaning down to capture her lips with his in a searing kiss.

Everything at once was just so much, the obscene sounds coming from both their mouths and her wet heat, the feeling of Mathew’s bare skin on top of her, the feeling of warmth radiating from his body, and oh my God, after so long it’s fucking finally happening-

He felt as her chest seized and she pulled away from the kiss, her head slamming back before falling to the side. She cried out, her orgasm hitting her like nothing had before.

He found her lips in the chaos beneath him, his hand parting her thighs as she went lax, lazily pumping in and out as she rode out her high. Her slick coated the inside of her thighs, and Mat pulled away momentarily and she whined, like the little brat she was allowing herself to be.

He only smirked, leaning down to kiss on her collarbone, letting his tongue sweep over the seemingly shimmering expanse of skin before him. He moved further down, savoring the taste of her, how it felt to be so close to her. No guards up, no shields, no screening involved.

She moved her ring clad hands to run fingers through his locks, that fucking smile coming across her face. He looked up from where his hands were holding either side of her waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh just enough to not make it hurt, but to say “I’m here. I’m not leaving.” His chin rested above her bellybutton, and he felt suddenly seen, bashful almost. He continued his trail down in a half assed attempt to hide his face, her breath hitching when he made it to her mound.

Her breath barely returned to her as he skipped over where she thought he was headed, instead opting to take her right leg over his shoulder, moving down the expanse of it to her ankle. He brought his eyes to meet hers, and a tender hand ran up and down the distance of it. He kissed the inside of her ankle, making his way up to the skin where her thigh met her already aching sex.

He lightly nudged his nose against the area, before attaching his lips. He started sucking on the skin there, licking her clean. Satisfied, he moved to the other side, beginning his good work.

“Mat,” she broke her silence, her voice splintered and low, “don’t tease. Please.”

He raised his eyebrows, seemingly in jest.

“I think we’re a little far gone from teasing, eh?” He asked, and truthfully, one mind blowing orgasm later, they were.

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever hotshot.”

“New nickname?” He questioned. “I like it.” He huffed, returning to his place between her legs. “But I fucking love this pussy, baby.”

And with that, he dove in. He immediately groaned at what he had found. (Which, obviously, caused her to tug at that perfect head of hair, eliciting another groan.)

If possible, she had become even wetter with the mix of his spit and her nectarine juices. It dripped down his chin, and he wanted to stay there forever. He’d found solace there, he thought. No Maple Leafs, no Tito, no hatty that meant jackshit in the end.

Just her and her consummate being. Vibrant, saccharine. His.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent drawing her closer and closer to the edge, but somewhere between repeated chants of praises and whatnot, he’d slipped.

“Fucking love this cunt, fucking love you-“

He hadn’t realized what he said, and if he had, he didn’t seem to care. But his words alone were enough to rip an unassuming orgasm from her. She didn’t allow herself long enough to think about if he meant to say it or not, or even to ride out the aftershocks rolling through her nerves. She grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him away from her glistening cunt and up to where she connected their lips.

A small sound of surprise, not reluctance, escaped from where they were joined. Her hands came to cradle either side of his face, and Mat thinks that he might’ve cried from the tender action. He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to ask. Hey, it’d been a long day.

“You mean it?”

He realized what he had said, then, eyes wide and somehow his face even more flushed than before. He considered lying, like when Tito had asked who he was texting and he’d said a friend.

But where would that leave him, he wondered?

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I did.” He added after a beat of silence.

And in those few moments nothing had seemed scarier.

Not when he was 18, getting skipped over by teams in the draft, and that voice in the back of his head had told him that, somehow, everyone had collectively decided to skip Mathew Barzal. Not when he was 19 playing in his first game for the Isles, having to follow up Auston Matthews first NHL game where he had four goals. Four. Fuck.

No, all that was topped by this. By the same fear he’d had earlier when he’d been on the bus, or when he’d arrived at her apartment.

But all of that fear was dissolved in a second after her laugh sounded out in the small bedroom, her eyes crinkling at the edges. She pulled him down towards her, and the sound of her laughter pulled a radiant smile from the hockey player that he felt like hadn’t seen the light of day in a long time.

She rolled over on top of his chest, leaning forward and throwing her arms around his neck. His chain was glinting, now, in the light she had previously been bathed in, and it caught her eye as it rested against his milky complexion.

“You looooove me.” She regarded in a sing-song voice, and Mat rolled his eyes despite the smile growing on his face. She leaned down, and Mathew’s grip on her bare hips tightened, all too aware of the wet spot left on his stomach from her leaking sex.

She mirrored his previous movements down his chiseled body, a regular Adonis in his own right. She left open mouthed kisses, the wet patches from them adding to the thin sheen that covered his body. She made her way down to his boxers, the obvious tent making her stifle a laugh. He caught it though, of course, and rolled his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Laugh it up, babe. Laugh at my misery.” He commented, to which she only shook her head.

“Patience is a virtue, Mathew.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Well, he had a point there.

So rather than talk, she decided she’d put her mouth to good use. She pulled down his boxers at a painstakingly slow rate, watching as his cock slapped up against his stomach. Her mouth watered at the sight, the tip red and weeping, begging to be attended to. He kicked off the boxers, paying no mind to how they slipped onto the floor, forgotten. She didn’t either, as she was sure he had to have some extra in one of his gazillion bags sitting in her entry way.

Her nails scratched down his stomach, angry red lines puffing up and decorating around the expanse of his skin. They were accompanied by freckles and marks and scars that she could have mapped together with her eyes closed. She knew Mathew like the back of her hand. And with that, came knowing how to make him come undone in her hands.

She started leaving small kisses at the base of his shaft, before swiping the bead of precum from his head down to the rest of him. She pumped her hand a few times, and Mathew let out a strangled moan. She thought he couldn’t get any louder, feeling bad for her neighbors at whatever hour in the night it was, but she was quickly proven wrong.

She licked a long stripe from the bottom to his tip, before taking as much of him into her mouth as she could. She bobbed her head a few times, jacking off whatever she couldn’t fit with her hands. She hollowed her cheeks, and the rise and fall of Mathew’s chest quickened. The sound he let out was animalistic, and it sent another wave of arousal through her body. She moaned involuntarily, and the feeling caused Mathew to buck his hips.

“You’re doing so good, baby. ‘M not gonna last with you going at me- shit- like that.”

He brought a large hand down to the side of her face, lightly stroking her cheek. It was a moment of wholesomeness that reminded them what they were now, what he had said.

Mat could tell she was tired, her pace decreasing. The look in her eyes never changed, though. And as he went to speak to tell her it was okay, and she didn’t have to (and because since it had been so long, he was scared he’d bust his load if she wasn’t careful), she pulled off.

A string of saliva followed, and the sight looked like a thumbnail of a shitty porno. Her eyes were droopy and glazed over, and Mat’s hypothesis was proven correct.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to finish. Let me take care of you.” He repeated his sentiment from earlier. She only shook her head, continuing to jack him off with her hand. Oh. He thought. That’s not what I was expecting.

“S’okay, Matty. Wanna make you feel good.”

She ran her thumb over his tip again, her glassy and swollen bottom lip hanging ajar as she concentrated. The moans he was letting slip free could only be described as pathetic, the 190 pound hockey player putty in her hands.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t, God, baby, shit! I-If you don’t stop.”

And then she pulled her hand off, and he let out a quick breath at the momentary relief, if that was even the right word. But it was short lived, and she managed to hoist herself up, dragging her folds along his cock, before stabilizing herself with hands on his chest. He slid inside of her, and the sounds they both let out echoed off her walls.

She started moving, and then it was “You’re fuckin’ amazing, you know that? So fuckin’ amazing. My girl, my perfect girl.” He rambled, the events of just that day alone scrambling his mind trying to keep up. Similarly to how she felt earlier, everything was just too much for the poor man. She felt like Heaven around him, and he watched in awe from below her as she moved, enamored by the woman he loves.

As she became more and more tired, her movement slowed, reduced to her grinding herself down on his cock. Mat was barely hanging on, trying to make it last as long as possible. He could tell she was close too, as she squeezed him like a vice, and put her energy into picking up her pace.

“Fuck, Matty. Feels s’good. Love you- shit! I love you so much, baby.” She told him, her eyes closed and her face screwed up as she chased her high. But something snapped in Mathew at her confession, and with a quick “fuck” under his breath, he flipped the two of them without ever leaving her.

He was relentless.

He slammed in and out, and at the sudden change in position and pace, she was blindsided. She thrashed around him, her hands everywhere at once. Her hair, his hair, grasping at his shoulders, scratching down his back. She settled for his biceps, as his hands were planted. One on the right side of her head, the other gripping her hip bone so hard, she was sure it’d bruise.

“It’s only ever been you, baby. I promise you.”

“Shit, Mat!” She cried, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She loosely draped her legs around his middle, allowing him to reach new depths within her. He was fucking her senseless, and they fucking loved it.

“It’ll only ever be you. I love you. Fuck, I love you so much, Y/n.” His hair hung in his eyes as he fought to keep them open. He shook it out of his eyes, wanting to see her as she came in all her glory.

“Love you, Mat. So much, baby. You have no idea.”

His pelvis snapped harder against her, just barely reaching up and grazing her clit in the most exquisite way. The rope in her stomach began to tighten for the third time that night, so close to breaking she could almost taste it.

Actually, she could taste it, she realized. She had been biting down so hard on her bottom lip she could taste the metallic tang on her tongue, and fuck, it was all the more delectable.

“Mat!” It was another exclamation, followed by more babbles. “‘S too much, Matty, can’t do it.” Her voice was small, and despite the nature of the statement, Mat felt his heart flutter.

He shook his head. “Yes, you can, baby. I know you’re tired, but you can do it, Y/n. You’ve got another one in you sweetheart, pull through for me. I’ve got you.”

And never one to disappoint, especially not her Mathew, she did.

She came, and she came hard. But it wasn’t dramatic the way you’d think it’d be, at least not outwardly. Her breathing stopped, her toes curled, and her nails dug into the skin on Barzy’s arms. It wasn’t accompanied by a loud scream, or a drawn out, high pitched moan. It was a breath of relief that left her when she came, her head falling to the side and her eyes closing. A quiet moan of Mat’s name, and she was clamping down on him.

The sweet way his name fell off her tongue, mixed with how she was so damn tight around him as she came, and he was done for. It triggered his own orgasm, and he felt the same feeling of peace wash over him that she had as he spilled into her. He fucked her through it, soft thrusts calming whatever aftershocks they both were experiencing. She had gone limp under him, her eyes opening as she gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

He stayed in her, lowering himself onto his side, then maneuvering them so she was laying on him. They were a cliché and they knew it, but they couldn’t seem to care. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, before it was broken by Mathew’s scratchy post-sex voice. Swoon.

“So,” he started. She raised a brow, wondering where he was going with this.

“You looooove me, too, then?” He mimicked her tone from earlier, and they broke out in a fit of laughter as she slapped his arm and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re alright.” She feigned annoyance, propping herself up on her right arm as she faced the man she loved. Mat scoffed, blowing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Just alright? You’re crazy, lady.”

“But you love me.”

Not a beat passed before “I do.”

She smiled softly, lifting up a hand to run a finger along his jaw. He caught it with his own, never breaking eye contact as he kissed her palm. Again, swoon.

“I know.” She responded, wanting to stay in that moment forever. But, she knew that if she stayed where she was too long, she’d more than likely fall asleep in record time. So, she pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, which he turned to catch before she could go, pulling her back for a “real” kiss at his protest.

A petulant child, that’s what he is.

She pressed one more to his lips for good measure, before pulling himself off of him. They both let out disgruntled sounds at the sudden losses, and it took all her energy to sit up on the edge of her bed. She felt a strong jaw on her shoulder, and she leaned into it.

“Where you goin’? Leaving me all alone isn’t very nice.” She could hear the frown in his voice, and even though she knew he was joking, it tugged on her heartstrings that little bit.

“Gotta pee.” She said, standing up and walking towards the connecting bathroom. “Sorry baby, no UTIs for me.”

The frown stayed cemented on his face.

“You should be grateful,” she threw over her shoulder, shutting the door. “No UTIs, more fucking, yeah?”

He chuckled at her bluntness, deciding to go and get her some water and maybe a snack. Shit, he didn’t know. What was he supposed to do? Usually when they fucked before, her or Mat would be out the door as soon as possible, still trying to ward off those pesky feelings. But now, he was allowed to feel said pesky feelings, and he’d be damned if he fucked it up.

So, snack. And water? Yeah, water, for sure. He was hungry and thirsty, why wouldn’t she be. He had no idea the way around her kitchen, nor how to, er, actually make anything, so this would be rough. But, first, a pit stop.

He would have walked butt-ass naked into her kitchen, really, but then he remembered Warrior was out there and he didn’t have a need to traumatize that dog any further than he already was.

(It was one time, okay? He didn’t know she had a dog, he’d been asleep on his bed by the TV when they’d gotten to her place. And at the time, Mat was too preoccupied to notice.)

He looked around on the floor for the offending clothing item, slightly grossed out when he did finally find them. It was only for a minute, tops, is what he told himself, as he pulled on the boxers from earlier in the night.

He tiptoed, for literally no apparent reason, through the dark apartment until he found the bag he was looking for. He grabbed what he needed from it, struggling with the zipper while trying to close it, before giving up. On his way back to her room, he gave Warrior a nod and smile, and he swore the mutt gave one back. Okay, actually, on second thought, he remembered the clock on her microwave saying it was 3:18 AM, so, maybe he didn’t.

It was late and he just had the best sex of his life with the woman he loves. Give him a break. So what if he’s delusional and thinks he can communicate with dogs? At least he’s pretty.

When he gets to her room, he pulls on the newer, clean, pair of boxers, setting the other pair he grabbed from his bag on the bed for her when she got out of the bathroom, along with an Islanders shirt that he’d secretly always wanted to see her in. Too soon? Maybe. But after so long yearning for everything domestic and wholesome and good that he was convinced he didn’t deserve with her, he was indulging a little bit. So sue him.

His next stop, snacks. And water, can’t forget the water.

The water was easy enough, he got lucky. He grabbed her “emotional support cup” as she’d called it before when she thought he wasn’t listening, and went over to the fridge. He got a few ice cubes and put them in, and then went over to her Brita. He stood there, pressing down on the little lever, watching the steady stream of water into the cup. It was almost laughable, how he stood there in the dead silence, concentrating so hard. He was determined not to somehow do something wrong, even though it was just pouring a cup of water. Cute.

He checked the pantry once the cup was full, with the lid safely screwed on top. The rustling about caught the attention of Warrior, who hopped down from where he’d been on the couch, moseying on over.

Mat, who still was slightly wary of Warrior, despite the fact the dog would cause him no harm, shook his head at the mutt.

��Sorry, buddy. I don’t have anything for you.”

He turned his head and gave him puppy dog eyes, pulling out all the stops. Mat sighed, looking back to the pantry. He saw a box of Milkbones, and looked back to Warrior, who was egging him on. (They’re telepathically connected, remember?)

He reached in the box, pulling one out, and tossing it down. Warrior gratefully accepted, taking his treat and waltzing off to his bed to chow down. Mat looked in the pantry, going to close the box, when he sees it, his saving grace.

White bread, hallelujah.

He can do toast. Mathew Barzal is a totally capable 25 year old man who can make toast. So, he takes the bag, going over to the toaster. And-

One look at all those fancy buttons, and he’s tapped out.

Okay, it’s okay, he can remember seeing a vending machine on his way into her apartment. Yeah, he remembers her telling him about having to sign off on some HOA form for it, even though she was just renting. Apparently, her landlord hadn’t signed, which made it her job. Whatever, that’s irrelevant.

He figured that there wouldn’t be anybody out in her hallway at 3:23 AM, so he grabbed his coat with his wallet, shrugging it on over his bare back. His slides were somewhere in his hockey bag and the last thing he wanted to do was stink up her whole place by opening that Pandora’s box. So, barefoot it is.

He does his best to sneak out the apartment, leaving the door ajar as he makes the short walk to the vending machine, grateful his search was over. He let out a long sigh as he stood, wondering what to get her.

For himself he decided on a bag of cool ranch Doritos, and a bag of those tiny cookies. For her, he racked every corner of his brain for potential options, before realizing how long he’s taking, and how long he’d been gone. So, not wanting to waste any more time, he elected for one of everything.

He punched in the numbers and paid, attempting to grab them from the machine. Trying to pick up the few that had fallen, he leaned down. His attention was called elsewhere by the ”click!” of a door a few units down. His head snapped to the source of the sound.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” He muttered under his breath upon what he saw.

A man probably not much older than himself, suitcase and backpack in tow, donned in, you guessed it, a New York Islanders hoodie a lá number 13.

The man had yet to notice the star player down the hall from him, and Mat was considering just making a run for Y/n’s place. But either way, he would have to go past the man, or the man would have to go past Mat to get to the elevator. Maybe he’d take the stairs? He hoped. Shit, who was he kidding, he’s not taking the stairs.

Starting his walk over, the unnamed Islanders fan lifted his head, stopping in his tracks. His jaw dropped, and if it wasn’t purely because of being in the presence of Mat Barzal, he had a hunch what it was.

Said hunch, was that it was due to the fact Mat Barzal was standing in front of him, in an apartment complex definitely not boujee enough for him to be living in, at 3:25 in the morning, naked, except for boxers and some fancy trench coat, holding several bags of snacks.

Mat would’ve laughed at the guys face, but he thought he wasn’t quite in the position to do so.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” And a stupid bro nod, was all Mathew could manage.

While he was facing that debacle, Y/n was having one of her own.

After she’d gone to the bathroom, she decided to try to do her nighttime routine, too. She put on her robe from where it had been hanging in her bathroom, beginning her little routine.

When she emerged 10 minutes later, Mat was nowhere to be seen.

His bags were still by the door, albeit one of them hastily thrown open. Was he leaving and had gotten some clothes and an Uber? Did he have last minute regrets? The door to her place was left open, and an overwhelming sadness began to take over her system. As the tears began to well up, she looked over to Warrior, only to notice him chewing on… a milkbone? How the hell did he get a milkbone?

She sniffled, wiping her sleeve under her nose. She sat down on her couch, looking at where her iced coffee from earlier was still sitting, ¾ of the way empty. The tears started to flow freely again after that, and she stood up, deciding that she should at least shut the door. She didn’t need to deal with a robbery, too.

As she stood and turned, she was met with a very discombobulated and very underdressed Mat trying to shove his way through the door.

“Have a good flight, man. Enjoy Miami!” Mat called over his shoulder to what sounded like her neighbor Gian, based off of the “Thanks bro, good luck this season!” she heard back.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to not bust out laughing at the sight in front of her. Hearing her snickering, he looked up gesturing to the bags in his arms.

“Hungry?” He asked, the smile on his face falling when he saw the red around her eyes. He dropped all the snacks on the couch to his right, making his way over to where she stood.

“Hey, hey, why’re you crying? What’s wrong sweetheart?” He questioned, and his sincerity made her smile widely.

“Nah, I’m all good, don’t worry about it. Just thought you’d left, that’s all…” A pause. “But I see now that you just had a case of munchies, apparently.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her towards his chest. His chin rested on her head, and she closed her eyes, inhaling his scent.

“No, baby. God, no, I’m not leaving. I just wanted to do this whole thing right, and I thought you might be hungry, and I tried to make toast- your toaster is really complex by the way,”

She pulled away from him as he rambled, her smile reaching her eyes.

“And I filled your water and set out clothes for you and I really did try, baby. I didn’t mean to fuck anything up, really.”

She giggled again, taking hold of the shoulders of his jacket, shrugging it off. She folded it over the back of a barstool, then turned back towards Mat.

“And Gian?”

“Oh yeah, he’s cool. Ran into him in the hallway and introduced myself. Going to visit some family in Miami.”

She raised an eyebrow, nodding her head in understanding. She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“So, am I gonna have to compete with him for your attention now whenever you come over?”

He reciprocated the action, one hand coming up to rest on her chin.

“I mean, he’s gonna be gone for two weeks, but after that…” he shrugged, trailing off. She hummed, and he smiled at her, leaning forward. He searched her eyes for any remaining upset, unable to find any, before he pressed his lips to hers. It was sweet and gentle, with not a hint of rush or fervor.

When they pulled apart, she was smiling again. Her hands found their way back to his neck.

“And baby, you’re amazing. You didn’t fuck up anything at all, I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She whispered, leaning in again to connect their lips. She let her tongue sweep over his bottom lip, biting down just barely before pulling away. She pushed down the sleeves of her robe just a bit, exposing her shoulders. Y/n took his hand, and started walking backwards, letting it slowly slip out of hers as she did.

“Come on, hotshot. Come to bed. Snacks will still be there in the morning.”

She smiled again briefly, before walking towards her room, the robe slipping down as she went. Mat stood watching her in total awe, glued in place, until he was knocked out of his trance.

“Hurry up! And lock the door, too, please!”

He had never obliged to anything quicker in his life.

(And as for the snacks, they were not still there in the morning, thanks to a certain mutt who managed to rip open all the packets on the couch. The next morning was spent at the vet, who had told them Warrior would be fine, just fat. The vet had only said this, though, after Mat had consoled a crying Y/n, who was under the impression he was going to be poisoned.

The rest of the day after that? Making up for lost time.)

FIN.

YO idk if that was good or not i kind of feel like i imagined writing the entire thing and it was a fever dream. but. anyway! if you liked it, be sure to reblog <3 thank u i love u! go eat some protein and drink some water.

xx, hj

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bowieandqueen11 · 2 years

Text

Dating Dream of the Endless Would Include...

Thank you all so much for being so sweet about my last two Dream headcanons, here are the dating ones to complete the set (and also the longest ones)!

Also shock horror I know, but I still have about three episodes of the show left so sorry if this is suddenly very out of character lmao I just love him to the moon and back my petty king

This got much longer than I thought it would oops, so any and all comments are much appreciated!! Thank you ily guys I hope you liked my silly similes lmaoooo

(I do not own the Sandman or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @thekingofkawaii.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Since people seem to love these opening sentences so much and I adore writing them lmao... Dream you pathetic ass cape draping eyeliner scrungle of a wet hissing cat, living for the drama dumbass with the smile of a brick I literally love you in every single way you are impeccable. He’s so stupid bless I want to bonk him with a baguette and give him a big ‘ol hug until he awkwardly shoves me off and mopes away. Well guess what sir, this time you are NOT running away from your feelings you’re happy and in love now biss so guess what you’re getting ALL the fluff ‘cause it’s what y’all deserve.

Dream introduced you to everyone as fellow ruler of his realm pretty much straight after your first kiss (my man intense). As soon as he took you by the hand and led you back to the throne room, his hands settled on your shoulders and turned you to face the erratic shards of the stained glass windows. ‘Everything I have’, you feel him whisper against your ear as soft as mist, ‘everything I am... it is also yours.’ He reaches round to tilt your cheek up, until the back of your head is flush against his chest and he’s able to run his finger down the curve of your neck. ‘If you so wish. I will be yours forever... in both dreams and the waking world. Wherever you need me, or want me. I will be there.’

To be completely honest, too many times he’s been afraid that you’ve still left him, so overwhelmed by everything. All that panic twisting in his gut, only to find you talking over Rose Walker’s dream journal in the library. You’re standing near ear to ear with Lucienne, the two of you bumping fingers and pouring over the contents to understand where exactly her poor brother is, the whole time Mervyn yapping at your side. I mean, they all adore you from the get go: they’ve seen over the last few decades how the mere thought of you has been the only thing stopping Morpheus from spiralling too far into despair. As soon as your feet stepped down onto the whirling sand, you were marked as a pretty integral part of the dreaming, human or not.

Plus, all the ravens that you’ve found encroaching on your roof and landing to hop on your shoulders in the waking world finally make sense. Lucienne was under strict orders to keep an eye on you, to make sure you were safe at all times.

Or you’ll wander off, and Dream will come sauntering away from the palace and down the winding path towards the House of Secrets, knowing from instinct that it’s where he'll find you. That same tide tugs him forwards forward into the suffocating mists, until he emerges in front of a pile of crumbling dirt and sees your smile alight the dusk, as piercing and ruinous as the sun. Goldie is perched upon your shoulder, squawking and sneezing into your eyes from time to time. You just laugh, and the sound is enough to double Dream over in grievous endearment. Abel is sitting by your right, still half-leaning in the pit as he giggles and continues his wild story about the King of Dreams from long ago. You turn around only when you hear a rare chuckle, finally spotting Dream standing with his eyes crossed behind you, and an amused eyebrow raised at you and your friends’ antics.

You expect him to ask you to leave, or to at least lead you inside, but to your surprise he sweeps his coat behind him and takes a seat on the squishing dirt beside you. He doesn’t settle until he feels his knee rest against your own, doesn’t feel comfortable while Abel continues spouting his story, until you take his hand and cradle it in your lap. It’s cold, almost contorted like the first dawn’s mist against your skin, but even now it shakes in your hold. It almost makes you laugh: the mystical, awe-striking, beyond marvel King of Dreams so terrified of loving you that he’s shaking like a barn mouse hiding from the overwhelming world around it. The same man who had spent over one hundred years locked like a Greek statue behind solid glass, only to be finally brought to his knees by the one thing he could never escape: his soul’s serendipity.

Eventually the clouds begin to roll over the stars, as if the sky’s painter had thrown buckets of brown paint over her canvas and left the streaks of ribbed sand to sparkle across the gloominess. Yet the King of Dreams just sits there, still as stone, not even daring to look down at you despite how much fondness tugs him too. Sometime during the night your head has fallen against his shoulder and you’ve fallen asleep against the warmth of his coat. He doesn’t want to move you, until eventually he leans down to kiss your head. He joins you in some of the sweetest dreams he can muster: the two of you lounging out amidst a field of flowers on the eve of spring. The firecracker reds and warm sugar plum violets frame his smiling face and the glimmer in his eyes as he lies admits the reeds, gazing up at you. He begrudgingly allows you to weave daisy petals into his hair, after a while of him running after you through the meadows and picking you up, holding you hostage in his arms until you promise not to tell his family about it.

Speaking of, when you eventually get to meet his sister Death, she loves you just as much (or even more) than her brother does straight away!!! She just immediately wraps you up in a big, excited, squealing, full body hug before tugging you off by the arm and leading you off towards the coastal market. She leaves a very confused and huffy Dream to fend for himself for a while, or perhaps gives him the time to visit his old friend Hob at the New Inn. She leads you to her favourite quaint ice cream parlour, where the two of you spend the afternoon sharing a sundae as siblings do, out on the arching thatch seats. Eventually she squints through the sunlight to look at you a little more seriously. ‘That’s the happiest I’ve ever seen my brother, like... ever I think! Thank you. No, seriously, thank you. He’s had enough time to sulk about, it’s good to see him look himself again.’

You and Dream reconvene in the square and spend the rest of the day feeding his treasured pigeons. He keeps looking at you out of the corner of his eyes with that twitching-lip smirk, with all the stars and constellations in the universe burning in them. He tries to be smooth, stealing a pinch of your baguette and throwing the crumbs at you, just to be able to wipe them off. His slender fingers brush over the pulse point on your neck like butterfly wings flitting over the dawning petals of a blooming rose. Then up to your chin, then gliding upwards till they’re hunched, tracing over the outline of your lips. Your heart fizzes as he leans down to kiss you for the first time ever in public, his frame shadowing you, yet bottom lip so welcoming and caressing as he brushes between your own.

Too often has Lucienne walked into the throne room, only to have to clear her throat to try and get Morpheus’ attention. He has his coat wrapped around the two of you like an inky bat like cocoon, sitting together on his throne as you read through the latest census. He stops every so often out of wild amusement when you gasp and point out a new entity. In pride at how well accustomed you’re becoming to his work that he carefully kisses your forehead and leans his own against it.

When it’s raining he’s the type to look confused at first as to why you’re shivering under your jacket and trying to run under London arches. Eventually it finally clocks in his head and he takes his coat off, holding it over your head during the whole journey to your destination, getting soaked himself by the smacking downpour nonchalantly. It’s a kind of second nature, to protect you, that he doesn’t even bat an eyeliner lined eyelid anymore. It’s innate and as natural, easy to him as dreaming.

Sometimes you’ll find Dream skulking around the palace steps like a disgruntled skunk recently kicked out of a bin, still upset after the events with John Dee. Lucienne and Matthew have attempted every possible solution to talk him out of it, but you’re the only one who can bring him back round. The only presence in any realm that feels more like himself than he does. The only one that understand his every idiosyncrasy, every twitch of his face, until you’re sitting by his side as one entity. He’s too stubborn to ever admit it, but he does indeed like it when you trace your pointer finger down the tip of his nose before tapping twice against his lips as if mockingly chiding him. He always peers down above his bottom lashes with wide, almost crossed eyes as he tries to follow you, but it does ground him again. Eventually, without anything even being said, he groans and jumps up to a stand with a ‘thank you, you’re right... of course... my dream’, and then saunters off again as if he owns the catwalk.

He tries to take you out to visit other dreams, even though you’re still terrified of the waters. He slides his fingers between your own, pulling them up to rest above his heart on the docks. He carefully and calmly talks you through everything that’s about to happen, and how he will be in control of every whiff and whim that could occur. He’s still a dramatic ass though, so before he’s even finished counting down to one he’s pulled you off the decking and into the swirling depths. In the darkness, you grasp onto him like a lifeline as he pulls you further down into the macrocosm than you ever thought possible.

It is worth it though... perhaps after a lot of snuggling and apologies from Dream. You end up in the dreams of young Irish man: one who hopes to become a zoologist after his time at university. You get to enjoy a peaceful night in a canopy beneath the stars, lying side by side with Dream as he points out the constellations that swirl gold like koi fish in the grand pond of the sky. He’s still not quite used to physical touch, which is why he seems to start and flinch back when you wind your arm to rest and rub above his abdomen. He’s spent so long... so so long never really getting much attention, or care from his family, so you’ll have to coax him into realising he can trust and relax in your presence. He does eventually let his guard down after a few hours of cuddles, until he eventually slides to sit up and falls dramatically over your knees. It’s the first time he’s ever allowed you to play with his hair, lying there in the darkness as normal lovers set alight do.

I mean, you’re family, right??? Dream begs you to come along to the family get together dinner (mainly so he can have a sparring partner of equal wit and finally get one up on his sibling Desire). He swaps the placards said sibling placed around the fire-lit table so you’re sitting next to him instead of Delirium. Between meals Dream takes your hand under the table and places it on his knee, stroking his thumb over your palm to try and calm himself down. Desire catches wind (thanks to an eagle eyed Despair), and makes some bitter laced remark with a growl of their lips, flick of their hand and sip of their red wine. This ends up with you lunging for him over the candelabra, with Death barely holding you back and Dream leaning back in his seat with a grin so wide on his face he looks like a smug, satisfied cat lmao

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reegis · 3 months

Note

Yo! Do you have any notes/tips for your coloring process? I've always had trouble with that part of drawings looking good lmao and I really like yours! If not for your specific style, do you have any tips with that in general?

Iv gotten a few asks about how I color but iv always avoided answering because

A) I am absolutely awful at explaining things, and

B) I am a very Very lazy artist you should probably Not do the things that I do

BUT i feel bad gatekeeping(?) my horrible technique if it helps anybody ig ill try and explain so

✨✨✨Welcome to Reegis’ Probably Not Reputable (But Very Long Winded) Art Advice✨✨✨✨

line art of a random character for the example, just pic whatever colors you have in mind for your base colors, you can try using palette generators or basing it off of existing palettes/characters/whatever I have absolutely no idea how color theory works (& this is why you shouldnt listen to me) so im solely going off of vibes. but it is Rough so onto step 2 & 3

(edit to add i usually start off with the skin hair & clothes on separate clipping layers and merge them together towards the end.. i think i forgot to say that at all here oops)

I abuse the hellll out of layer blending modes. overlay, saturation & multiply mainly, but also difference, brightness & screen. (just doodle something & try all of em out to get a feel for them honestly ik theres a Lot and they can be intimidating) for this i just wanted a more cohesive warmer tone to start with so i added a peachy overlay & a slight ombré to the hair to add a bit more interest to the character.

then just the most basic of rendering, some blush & highlights just wherever i think theyd go.

Another thing they tell you Not to do, my next step is to block out all my shading in a vaguely purpleish multiply layer!!! i cant be assed to do it any other way im sorry…. once i have the basic shading down, i lock the layer & go in with air brush eraser & also airbrush in other colors wherever I think the purple is maybe too harsh/clashing

still wasnt 100% happy with the colors so messed around with some more layer filter/modes/whatever you call them then colored in my line art! i think this is honestly the saving grace for all of my art shshsdhhf color your lines people. doesnt have to be all (i dont, i like the contrast) but it usually helps to make some at least a little less harsh

then with a little more color tweaking im done! one random sleepy dude, fully colored (by my standards)

and then if a piece needs more dramatic lighting you justttt

im so serious play around with layer settings! these are just basic multiply & add(glow), there as so many others you can abuse the shit out of & nobody will know or care in your finished piece.

was this?? in any way helpful???? I hope so.

#THIS IS A BELATED ANSWER FOR ALL OF U MY B #scrolled back to find the earliest one i could bc i mean… you asked first #if this was in Any way helpful…. im glad #and also sorry. probably dont do these things #hmu if youd like me to clarify anything ill… do my best #asks #my art

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inkelea · 8 months

Text

𓏲 ༘⋆ ࣪𓇼 SECRETS OF THE OCEAN!

pairing: landboy!bang chan x mermaid!fem!reader

synopsis: after chan navigates through the ocean he finds himself in an unknown island, so empty it gives anyone on there a sense of loneliness and sorrow. however, this feeling doesn’t last long, since he’s quickly immersed in the life’s of a mermaid and a siren.

genre: fluff, comedy, strangers to lovers (not really), mermaid au, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, impossible love, different worlds.

warnings: bad parents, talk of loneliness, friendship plays a big role in the story, seungmin is a menace, there’s a big amount of backstory, mermaids and sirens are not the same thing, y/n is described with hair (no specific length), curly hair chan appreciation!!

word count: 8.5k

a/n: this took almost two months to be done, but it’s finally here! honestly I thought I was gonna leave it halfway, everyone thank cinny for giving me the strength to finish this tbh. I even made a playlist for the story in which the songs match with the events that occur in the fic. you obviously don’t need to listen to it while reading it but I think it could be fun. if you’re a fast/slow reader… oops, but still. enjoy the reading! ik i had fun writing it:)

The ocean moves alongside the flow of the wind, making all the ocean life direct themselves to the north. It's a cloudy night with the full moon shining its brightest at the very top of the sky. Due to the almost impossible task to make anything out of the mist to the human eye, Seungmin surprises himself at the sight of a boy riding in a rather small boat.

He seems happy. Excited, would be a better word. It was like he didn’t even realize the gravity of the situation he somehow was in. The siren didn’t have to check twice to realize the boy, who seemed to be in his first adult years, wouldn’t survive the whole night out in the hell of earth.

Still, it was good entertainment for him and his only company in the vast world that was called ocean.

He focuses his eyes in the water, praying to every deity he was ever taught about in school that he could find his best friend in the whole place that they called home. Soon enough, the silhouette of a mermaid hunting after a crab that was way too big for her to eat alone, came into view. Such a greedy bastard, in his opinion.

After some minutes you’ve finally come up from your diving, showing excitedly to your friend the 1:00 am snack you just found.

“Look at this Min! It’s a dungeness crab!” you yell. Grabbing the crab with both hands and putting it in front of Seungmin’s face, you continue, “Bigger than their usually size for some unknown reason… isn’t it amazing?”

The contagious smile in your face fades away quite quickly when he takes the crustacean out of your hands and pulls you with him behind the stack he was hiding himself with. When he’s got your attention, he goes as far as putting his arms all the way at the top of the rock and putting all his weight in the cold and rough landform.

“If you’re that hungry maybe he should be your next victim.”

You follow his eyes until you spot a boat in the middle of the ocean. You rub your eyes just in case you’ve seen that wrong. No, totally right, there’s a deranged boy in a tiny boat in the middle of the ocean, way past midnight.

“Do you think he has a suicide wish?” you ask, resting your head in the stack.

“Nah, it looks like he’s just dumb.”

You cackle at your friends’ words, but your laughs quickly end when you see him eating your well earned snack. “Hey! You gluttonous blobfish look-alike!” You puff out your cheeks and pounce on top of him, creating a big splash sound. “Give me back my food!”

With a staffed mouth and tired eyes, Seungmin uses his free hand to cover your mouth. “Stop. I think he heard us.”

“Don’t change the topic! He hasn’t! And if so, why does it matter? It’s not like his weak human eyes can see anything with all this fog.”

Contrary to your beliefs, the boy, just as Seungmin said, did hear you. He gets up inside the boat and looks around until he reaches your position. Yes, it might be true he couldn’t see much with the fog, but when the full moonlight is reflecting on you so beautifully, he finds it easy to distinguish the two people looking at him.

His reckless attitude might not have been scary enough to startle you, however, the second his small rectangular object is focusing on the stack you are hiding behind, the fear starts to kick in.

It hasn’t even passed five seconds when you both have submerged in the water. Seungmin still has the half-eaten crab on his hand and you force yourself to not scream at him then and there. He has a quite pained expression on, like he regrets ever saying anything about the human boy being there.

Time passes slowly and quietly. Seungmin, who keeps denying sharing the crab, has gone up leaving you behind. From your position you can see part of the boat and how it’s going in your direction. Almost like a hunter going after their prey.

You lock eyes with Seungmin while remaining in your position. This has never happened before, but you know exactly what to do. He nods his head and starts swimming, quickly having reached the boat. You cover your ears the moment he starts singing, the boy’s eyes adapt a white color and his boat changes directions. It isn’t necessary, but you dive in and hit your tail against the water, the sudden wave making the boat move faster.

Soon enough the boat is on the closest island. Which was casually famous for how many sailors shipwrecked there.

You waste no time to reach the land, making sure the boy is asleep.

“We can't leave him here,” you say without taking your eyes off of him.

“Why not? your pod always did it like this. It’s not our fault he’s out of his mind.” He throws a bunch of seaweed at the boy and sits down. “Always the stupid land people…”

You roll your eyes at your friend’s antics, picking up the plant and throwing it at him. “He looks young. Every young person is stupid. Still, he surely has a family, we just can’t.”

The object in his hands is quickly taken away by you, wanting to see it more closely.

“This is the thing the elders were always so scared of. Seems not that interesting if I’m being honest.”

“You even know how that works?” Seungmin looks strangely interested in the object.

The way you throw it at the sand gives him every answer he needs. Stretching his arm to reach the object without getting out of the water he picks it up, still curious.

“It has to be something really bad. I wasn't even part of the pod and I still frighten every time I see one of these.”

Meanwhile he keeps examining the thing which you quickly learn is called a camera, it said so in the back. You focus on the boy. He has straight black hair and black painted nails. Definitely not the usual look of the typical men you see on ships around your home. He looks at peace, like the induced sleep was everything he needed to be happy. Your hand pushes away the hair out of his eyes, but you regret it when he stirs in his sleep. Thankfully, he doesn’t wake up.

A sudden flash takes you out of your trance and you quickly turn to the other side. Seungmin is holding the camera in your direction, with an open mouth and even bigger eyes.

You frown your eyebrows and wait for an explanation, but when he shows your reflection in the tiny little object, you almost choke in your saliva.

“Why am I in there?!” you shriek a bit too distressed.

He, however, just starts laughing. His sight stays on the camera and the rest of the people that are in it. With one last look at the sleeping boy he goes underwater still laughing. Still too anguished to even remember the existence of the boy, you go after Seungmin, wanting to know more about the new object in your possession.

Waking up alone on an island at what seemed very early hours of the morning wasn’t common for Chan. In fact, he didn’t think it was common for anyone.

Rubbing his eyes as he gets up, he starts to panic. The reality of the situation he’s in starting to sink in. He's on an island, alone. At least he still has his phone.

The small screen marks 6:37 am and Chan is about to rip all of his hair off.

Was it a bad idea to travel the ocean alone at night? Yes, but he didn’t think he would blackout only one hour after parting and wake up on what seemed like an undiscovered island. It looked completely deserted. The lack of trees made it seem like a hurricane had come over and destroyed everything.

It doesn't pass long when Chan starts to feel the loneliness that characterizes the place. This only worsens when he realizes his camera is gone, all his memories with it.

He tries to look at the problem from an optimistic view, like he always does, but it’s quite difficult at the moment. He throws himself backwards falling on the sand, trying to remember what had happened last night for him to feel like he was hungover.

When he’s about to fall asleep again he hears giggles. Loud ones. Sitting up he’s able to distinguish two heads coming out from the water. A girl and a boy. She's laughing so hard Chan thinks she might be left without oxygen. He's frowning so hard that Chan thinks he might lose his eyebrows. And everything is wholesome until he sees his camera in the girl’s hands.

“Hey, you! Is that my camera?” Chan asks, perplexed and annoyed.

if you had turned your head any faster your neck would have probably broken. A hundred and more curse words start to pop up in your head, you had completely forgotten about the boy’s existence. However, you don’t have too much more time to look at him because Seungmin pulls your hand underwater with him.

It might have been the dazed state he was in, but he jumps into the water the moment you disappear. He wants to be angry, but right after seeing two tails swimming, his mind breaks into tiny pieces. He stays there, floating, seeing you swim until you suddenly stop.

Your eyes are shining, and not in a figurative way. A very sparkly neon blue has taken over your iris, making him feel immediately curious about you.

Seungmin pulls and pulls, but you stay still. The boy’s unfocused eyes roam your face and yours roam his clothes, knowing he will regret wearing them the moment he starts swimming. Your hand tightens around his camera, it isn’t fair. Nothing of what you did to him is.

Finally you break free from Seungmin’s grip and swim to the boy. He starts to look fidgety, almost shy, but you don’t pay attention to it. When you have finally reached him, he has gone to the surface, unable to hold his breath any longer.

The moment you follow him to the surface Seungmin rolls his eyes. “Stupid love-struck mermaids and they’re dumb land boys.”

Your eyes go back to normal and an awkward smile covers your face. He, however, seems to have fallen out of his trance, adopting now a terrified expression.

“I’m sorry.”

They are simple, yet powerful words. You hand him the camera, but he seems reluctant to even the mere thought of touching you.

“Are you gonna kill me?” he says with puppy eyes and water from his hair dripping all over his face.

You bite your lip in order to stop the laughs that are threatening to get out. Taking his wrist you put his palm faced upwards, and then leave the camera on it. Lastly, you close his hand over the object, his eyes not leaving yours.

“You'd be dead already if I wanted to kill you.”

He gulps and looks down at his camera. He should get out of here right at this exact moment, but he can’t.

With shaky hands he opens up the camera gallery, only to be met with multiple photos of you and the boy who you were previously with. There’s zoomed photos of the scales in your tail, photos of you eating what seemed to be a lobster, and more of the same. The last one was a photo of your friend asleep in a destroyed ship. It made a smile creep up on his face.

Your webbed hand circling firmly around his wrist takes him back to earth. Your unusually long nails brush against the start of his palm and he feels the need to examine the scales scattered around your hand. It's then when he, once again, remembers a girl with a tail is in front of him. A mermaid stole from him and all he is doing is adoring her features. But mermaids don’t exist, right?

Your name comes out as a whisper and it makes his wandering eyes stay still. His breath gets caught up in his throat and he is suddenly super aware of his surroundings. Hearing you talk feels like honey dripping.

“I'm Chan,” he whispers back, too afraid to break the soothing atmosphere that formed around you.

Much to Chan's dismay, every bubble has to explode at some point. In this case, it breaks the moment neon green eyes appear in between you and him.

Chan jumps scared and flinches. He is quick to pick out your rolling eyes and the small smack you give the boy. The situation is quite comedic, but the green eyes torturing him make him stay as motionless as a doll.

You, not as entertained and not even a bit horrified by Seugmin’s actions, take him by the hair and pull. He shrieks immediately of course, his whole ‘evil siren act’ going away with the wind.

“Are you trying to kill me or what?!” He is holding his head and trying to look at you as scary as he can.

Now you’re entertained.

“Don’t mind Seungmin, he wasn’t fed enough sardines when he was born.”

Chan is… speechless. He doesn't know if it’s his survival instincts, or just the fact that he is completely terrified, but he starts swimming your opposite way. However, just as you predicted, he starts regretting wearing clothes when they slow him down more and more every second.

His sort of escape plan is doomed when Seungmin appears in front of him, his hands squeezing Chan's shoulders. Slowly, he starts making Chan retrocede, until your hands replace Seungmin’s.

Chan doesn’t dare to turn, he is sure he would break right after seeing your face. And yet, what you do is a hundred times worse.

“Are you dumb or just intimidated?”

Your breath hits his nape and your hands pass to be intertwined over his chest. Trying to distract himself with fear is no longer possible as Seungmin has gone underwater. All that is left for Chan are your whispers and hair tickling him.

You sigh, satisfied with having Chan's attention back to you, even if he wasn’t directly looking at you. Turning him around, you smile. His eyes are as big as the ones of a celestial eye goldfish and his Adam's apple goes up and down every second. It's cute. He is cute.

Intertwining his hand with yours, you pull. The sudden movement makes him dizzy, not expecting that much strength.

Soon enough you’re back at the island he shipwrecked on. He immediately sits down and takes a big breath. You once again, smile. Meeting a land boy for the first time was in no way as horrible as your elders used to tell you. It was in some way… comforting.

While he takes an apple from the fruits he had saved in his boat, you slowly dive into the water. This only lasts so little as you hear his screams.

“Are you gonna leave just like that?”

You bite your lip and resurface just as much so your eyes are visible. Looking one last time at him you wink, leaving him as perplexed as before, and even more curious.

“I can’t believe you left him just like that,'' Seungmin says as he helps you clean the multiple lobsters from his lying position. “I’m proud of you.”

You smile, something inevitable every time you are with Seungmin. Which is mostly every day, every month, every year.

Most would think that spending so much time with one person and only that one person could get tiring, infuriating even. Nevertheless, that isn’t the case.

At the end of the day, he is the only person who hasn’t left you. Seungmin is a brother, an annoying one, but still one. A mermaid and a siren, who not only endure each other’s company, but enjoy it. This is why his opinions are very important to you, but you really are disliking his latest one.

“Honestly we should just leave him there to riot. He’s a human boy who looks rather young and the only thing worse than an old mad sailor is a young stupid adventurer.” He is slowly getting up from the old couch of the abandoned ship you have your home on, like he wasn’t just talking of leaving an innocent boy alone to die. “We can’t trust that idiot, we’ll be being tested on in seconds.”

You shut your eyes for a second. He is so… intense. It would be ironic to say he is just like the conservative elders, but to you, right now it feels like he is. He can’t accept things changing, you get it, but that doesn’t stop you from getting angry because of it.

And the worst thing is that you can’t even give him the benefit of the doubt, think that he might be right, because he won’t. All it took was a look at Chan to see how harmless he was.

Hitting the table with the lobster shell makes him take his eyes away from the one he was cleaning himself. He has his confused face on and his hands have stopped working.

“Why are you so mean?”

“What? you were the one who left him stranded there. Which was, by the way, the best thing you could’ve done.”

You puff out your cheeks and press your nails to the table, multiple cracks start to be audible. “I wasn't planning on leaving him there forever.”

“So what, you wanna invite him over? See how he slowly dies after the oxygen leaves his system?” Seungmin hissed, visibly annoyed with the conversation.

Getting up from your seat, you throw the rest of the lobster and let it fall wherever. You can hear Seungmin’s screams as you leave the ship, but you ignore them.

Saying you’re angry wouldn’t be enough, you are furious. Hopefully Chan’s shy smile would be able to lift your mood.

You swim slowly at the very bottom of the ocean, pressure so high it would kill any human who dared to visit it. Yet, you thrive in it. A family of pseudoliparis appears in your path, bringing a smile to your face.

The feeling of being able to meet these deep-ocean species, knowing they live isolated

from the rest of the creatures the humans associate with the ocean, makes you feel lucky. You know they would be hated if land people knew of them, just because they aren’t as pretty as a seahorse, or as friendly as a tetras. They’re survivors, and that’s all that’s important when you live in the ocean.

After bidding your goodbyes you keep going. Some minutes in you find yourself surrounded by fish, since you have run into what could easily be hundreds of carcasses. Letting them pass, you change directions, however, you’re not ready for what you find.

Multiple aquamarine gems are in front of you. Each bigger than the one you saw before it. A vast variety of greens and blues that take the spotlight. When you go to take one of the bigger ones your eyes start to prick, salty tears rolling down your face.

“I just don’t understand you! I thought I raised you correctly, making clear what is okay and what isn’t!”

Your hands tremble and your head is downcasted, facing the aquamarine all around your bedroom floor.

“Do you even know what this means?” She sighs and passes her hand through her hair. Her eye bags are more prevalent than ever and it seems like even talking about this makes her suffer. “They’re going to kick you out.”

You start sobbing uncontrollably, the seriousness of the situation setting in. Being kicked out of the pod, a mermaid’s worst nightmare.

You beg, plead for forgiveness, but she only says that she can’t do anything. You cry and cry and cry and your tears start becoming recognisable puddles in the water. You feel like dying.

“Help! Please help!”

Cries for help get you back from your memories and makes you turn your head faster than a sailfish. It all happens too fast, the only thing that is keeping you alert is the fact that the screams sound a bit too much like Chan’s voice.

That's the moment you start thinking Seungmin might be right. Chan is at the end of the day, a human. He's a prey in the water, just like a newborn.

When you find him he is already unconscious. He looks at peace, but you know he probably has just lived one of the worst experiences of his life.

He still has a pulse, which calms you slightly but doesn’t make you swim slower when you are bringing him to the island.

Your hand makes it to his forehead, confirming he has a fever. His hand tightly holds his camera, and you can only question what he was even thinking of doing.

It feels like the sun starts shining brighter when Chan starts coughing water and blinking rapidly. His arms start to move around until he finds your hands, intertwining them with his almost immediately.

“Are you okay?” Your words come out before you can stop them, making you want to give yourself as food to the sharks.

He opens one eye and looks at you while lying. He laughs, and it’s a weird moment since he was just floating unconscious underwater. However, you enjoy it. It makes you remember why you even went out looking for him in the first place.

He is easy to be around, comforting.

“I mean, I almost died in the most painful way possible so…” His smile stays on, but his laughs have stopped.

Looking at him, you realize he seems different, like seeing you preoccupied for him gave him a confident boost. Made him look like he was teasing you.

“The most painful way to die? what about burning alive?”

“Nah, drowning would not only kill me but also my ego, totally worse.”

For the first time of the day you laugh. Your laugh resonates around the whole island, so intense that you need to cover your mouth to stop it.

Meanwhile all this happens, he sits up. His eyes can’t not travel to yours with your laugh filling his ears. Being able to focus in your hands like this, while intertwined with his, makes him smile a bit harder. Your hands are cold and not wrinkled as expected from someone who lives in the water, but soft and full of scales. He had already had an opportunity to observe them, but seeing them like this, it was another level.

He’s amazed by them, that is, of course, until he realizes your red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

His hands pull on yours to get your attention, extremely aware of your distressed appearance now. “Hey, did something happen?”

His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is slightly open. He still is breathing loudly, his chest going up and down with each breath.

He is cross-legged and you are resting your forearms on the shore. His index finger taps rhythmically in the dorsum of your hand, like he is distracting himself from something. In some way he is, he’s trying to distract himself from the fact that you have been quiet for minutes now.

When you realize this, you finally speak. “Oh no, I just remembered some things.”

Chan tilts his head and his index finger stops. His hand leaves yours and starts touching the multiple shells decorating your hair. It almost feels like he knows exactly what to do to leave you speechless.

“You’re a bad liar.” His hand stops touching your hair and it goes to support his head.

“I'm not about to tell a stranded human boy my problems.”

“Why not? Just because I am a human doesn’t mean I don't know how to give advice. Quite the opposite actually.”

You sigh and look at the sand. You can feel Chan's eyes still on you, examining every scale that is scattered around your neck and down your body. You shouldn’t, he is a stranger and from a different world, but when you look at him again and his eyes hold the most comforting look in them, you can’t resist telling him everything.

The waters around your house are quiet when you bring Seungmin into your bedroom. It’s the first time he has been here, mainly because he shouldn’t be. In fact, even him just being around you is a crime you should have never committed, but there was nothing to do about it now.

If it wasn’t completely necessary you wouldn’t have brought him here, however, you couldn’t just leave him in the middle of nowhere to wait for you to come back when he had fishing gear all around his tail.

Sitting him down in your bed you go to take your crusher claw from your night table. His whimpers make you bite your tongue and try to get the gear out of him as fast as possible. When you finally do, multiple wounds can be seen all around his tail. He has tears in his eyes and his hands tightly grasp onto your bed.

Taking small pieces of seaweed you put them on top of his wounds to stop the bleeding. He has another cut under his right eye, so you put a piece there too. You pull him in for a hug, he hasn’t talked at all since you found him, but you can tell he enjoys the warmth when he tightens the embrace.

It's safe to say you have never seen Seungmin like this before. He has puffy eyes and he is trembling. Head down, avoiding making eye contact with you. You don’t force him, knowing how difficult bumping into sailors can be.

You have forgotten about the pass of time, having been rubbing circles on Seungmin’s back for the last hour, completely ignoring the place you found yourself in. The waters had a darker tone now, going from crystal water to a grayish color. Today was destined to be the day your life’s get destroyed.

Your door opens and when you have realized it’s too late. Your mom is at the door, frozen in her place. Her eyes don’t leave Seungmin’s body and suddenly your breathing starts to get heavier.

The green that decorates every single one of his scales leaves his true nature revealed to everyone to see. Your mom’s eyes are filled with fear, an emotion you aren’t used to seeing in them.

Tension clings onto the room, the three of you looking at each other with agitation in your faces. Much to your dismay, your father is the next person who enters your bedroom.

Unlike in your mother, all you can see in his eyes is anger.

“Out,” he says as his gaze doesn’t leave Seungmin’s for a second.

You see your friend get up off your bed and get out by the window he entered from in the first place. His swimming is slow and floppy like the one of a hatchling, but you’re glad he is able to move again already.

You lock eyes with your mother. Your father has left the room after slapping the door closed, and you know there is no way you are getting out of this one.

She comes close to you, pushing your head to her chest. Tears have started flowing through her face, going down her cheeks and ending on her neck.

It’s quiet for a second, her hands resting on your shoulders. She stays like that for some time, you lose track of time, not knowing if minutes or hours have passed. No one prepares you for what your mother tells you next.

A week later.

The whole pod stands around you in the center of the city. A statue of Amphitrite stands behind you, her eyes made of stone burning holes in your head.

Over your shoulders hangs a big shell necklace, the one the crime committee always puts in the kids that break the rules. The one the kids that are kicked out always wear.

The elders whisper while tears spill out of your eyes. You’re the reason for the trial, and still, you’re invisible to them. They judge, point, some even laugh.

When your father takes a step forward everyone shuts up, everyone waiting for the king’s second in charge to talk.

“The king will be here in short, until then I ask everyone to keep it calm.”

Your heart sinks when he doesn’t look at you, realizing you have disappointed your family.

You don’t have to wait too long for the king to arrive, but time’s relative, so you’re sure you have been standing in front of Amphitrite for years.

When he stands in front of you, all the oxygen in your system leaves your lungs. His lips curl into a grimace, his left eyebrow going up. He looks you up and down, making you feel smaller than any of the elders’ whispers ever did.

“This is her? the one who brought a siren into my realm?”

Your gaze meets your father’s for a second, but he quickly moves to look at the king’s back. “Yes majesty.”

Before even a second passes the king’s nails are dunked in your cheeks. His hand pushes your head upwards making you look him straight in the eyes.

“How dare you dirty this heaven with the presence of that monstrous creature.” His fingers harden around your chin, breathing becoming harder by the second. “It’s always the kids who don’t know how to follow the rules.”

Harshly dropping your face, he steps back. His hands go through his hair pushing it back. He is one of the most merciless men you have ever seen, and he is about to decide the future of your life.

Your father hands him the ceremonial stone. The official document where every single citizen of the realm is noted when they are born. The king touches your engraved name, almost like he is thinking about his next move. You know better, you know your fate has been decided for days now.

With a snap of his fingers the water makes pressure until your name is crossed. A single tear comes out from your eye.

“This girl has let us all down, bringing the enemy to our homes. She must leave the pod.” He elevates his arm when people start talking again. “However, she will not be the one going away.”

Your head is blank and your attention in the trial disappeared when you started to sob again, but you still manage to listen to their gasps.

“We are not safe here anymore. It's only about time that the sirens come here. We will head off to the north, where an old realm is. You, little girl, will stay with your best friends, the sirens.”

You can’t believe what reaches your ears. They are leaving, leaving the whole realm behind like it was nothing. Leaving you.

You fall to the floor, the rusty shackles around your hands colliding against it. “Please! I’ll do whatever!”

“It’s decided, kid.”

Sobs were the only thing heard that night by anyone close to the plaza. As the condemned mermaid refused to get back to her house and fell asleep crying.

The day after.

Motion covers the plaza as people go back and forth with all of their belongings. Hushed whispers are heard, mainly discussing the situation of the girl sleeping against Amphitrite’s statue.

Neon green eyes observe everything from afar. His best friend, lying on the ground like a rag doll. Not caring about the shocked looks he receives, he picks you up just like you did when he was hurt. At the end of the day, this was siren territory now, right? He could do anything he wanted.

After some time you start to move against the old blanket he had put over you. One of the various things the old ship where he stayed at had. You weren’t too far away from the realm, close enough to see everyone starting to meet in a circle.

You rub your eyes with your knuckles and start getting up. All of the crying made your eyes puffy, making it difficult to see now. And even so, you are able to catch a glimpse of your family. Your mother doesn’t look better than you. Your father stays with the king, like his job is the only thing that matters. Not his abandoned daughter, not his anxious wife.

When everyone is together and about to leave, you choke out a sob. Left hand in your mouth and the other one holding the shackles Seungmin took off of you.

His hand goes up and down over your back, in such a similar way you did days ago that it gives you déjà vu. You cry until everyone leaves, holding onto the only person who didn’t disappear from your life in just seconds.

Seungmin removes the single tear falling from his left eye and turns to give you privacy. You don’t know he is there, but he feels like he shouldn’t pry. Not when you have just told a land boy the most painful time of your life, not when he is hugging you so tight you might break.

He sits on a stack and waits. He didn’t like to remember, especially not those days. The day not only his but also your life was ruined was something he tended to put in the back of his mind and pray so nothing reminded him of it. Each day was harder, contrary to what most people said. He guesses that’s the reason why he started tearing up when you started telling the story.

You are laughing, and he doesn’t know why, but he is happy the stupid human made you laugh. The moment he has been waiting for finally comes when you say goodbye and go underwater, almost like a luring siren after hunting a prey. However, you are just a loving mermaid.

Going after you, he catches you almost immediately. He has always been the fastest one.

You are wary, the memories putting you on alert. Seeing the boy’s face is definitely a surprise, or at least that’s what he takes from your slightly ajar mouth and fast blinking.

He offers you the lobster in his hand. A good memory. An old tradition, if you will.

You smile, without showing your teeth, but smile. When you accept the gift Seungmin lets out a relieved sigh. You take a bite and so does he. A weird conciliation for others, but normal for you.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all those horrible things about the human. I don’t know him, so I shouldn’t assume.”

You redirect your gaze, looking at the fish around you. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn't have exploded like that, I know how much you’ve suffered because of humans.” You look up and let out a laugh, not believing what you’re about to say. “I also don’t really know him, he could be a super good liar who happens to be a mad scientist who’s going to sacrifice me.”

“That boy? He passes as a scientist as much as I pass as a dolphin.”

You laugh, lobster being eaten quickly while you de-stress.

“I wouldn’t call him a boy, he’s a grown up.”

“Oh so you’ve already asked for his personal data huh. What’s next, asking him to co-parent a seahorse with you?” Seungmin takes the last part of the lobster while you put on an offended expression while he laughs.

“I don’t do those kinds of things!”

“What about seventh grade? Didn’t you—”

You jump out of your place in the stack you settled on and cover his mouth with your hand. He licks your palm and you retract disgusted. You shake your hand up and down while sending daggers at him.

“I didn’t tell you that just so you would make fun of me for it!”

“Rookie mistake,” he says with a smirk on his face.

Swiftly enough you’re back at your ship, both of you lying in the old couch where hundreds of humans (and mermaids) had lied in the past. It’s too tiny for the both of you, your tails are colliding and Seungmin is about to fall any second now, but neither of you seems to mind.

“So… that human?”

His words roll out of his tongue like nothing else had before. He has got that knowing look on his face, making it impossible for you to even try to lie to him.

“He’s cute,” you say trying to sound nonchalant, feeling the complete opposite.

Embarrassed was all you felt at the moment. A rather disoriented land boy was making you feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Ease.

Seungmin smiles. No, he smirks, tongue going over his lips and arms under his head. These gestures indicate he is about to make fun of something. In this case, of you.

“At least it isn’t one of those old sweaty sailors, not even my ancestors would’ve eaten them.”

You groan, hands covering your face due to the growing embarrassment. He lets out a laugh, clearly enjoying your suffering. Your hands move quickly and a sudden wave has pushed him out of the couch, making him hit the deck rather strongly. You’re the one laughing now.

“Rude!”

He throws a pillow that had fallen before, hitting you in the face. You gasp, ready to make him regret ever starting this war. When you are about to strangle him he holds your wrists in the air.

“Easy there! Do you think the land boy is gonna want to kiss a murderer?” Seungmin teases with his neon green eyes shining.

“You’re so dead, Kim Seungmin!”

If your father could see you right now, you would probably be punished for life. Hands intertwined with the ones of a land boy, pushing and guiding him through the ocean.

If your father was here, you would be hiding and stressed, but he isn’t, so you grab Chan’s face and scream at him how fun this is. His laugh reaches your ears, eyes closing as the breeze hits your face.

Your hands over your hair, feeling the water drenching it. Chan has been on the island for five days now, surviving with fruits and fish you and Seungmin (him being forced by you), have hunted and heated for him.

It’s about to be midnight, and Chan has convinced you to take him with you in your nightly swim.

Your back is facing him and he can’t stop himself from worshiping your silhouette. He had tried to go back to his senses, trying to convince himself that his fixation on you was just your mermaid charms. He quickly rejected that idea when you explained the ones with the alluring charms were the sirens, not your kind. He still thinks you casted a love spell on him anyways, because the thoughts he has about you aren’t normal for someone he had only met five days ago.

Neon blue eyes meet his, any coherent thought leaving his mind. Your arms circle around his neck, hands combining behind it.

“So, you’re aware you really can’t come with me, right?”

Your words shake some sense into him. Of course, you can breathe underwater, he cannot. He would die in minutes if he was to go with you.

He pouts, hands finding your shoulders and gripping tightly. “Don’t you have some old diving equipment in that ship of yours?”

You laugh and push him off you. Humans and their crazy beliefs. You still laugh every time you remember the time he asked you if you lived in Atlantis. The single thought of him being able to dive with you was insane. Right?

Underwater school was very different from what you knew about the schools land people attended. Yes, in both institutions history was taught, but aside from that, they weren’t much alike. Apart from History, your classes consisted of: Swimming; Spell Casting; Powers; Herbology and Marine Zoology. Spell Casting was never one of your best subjects, however, you did remember an old tale your teacher told the class once.

Your hands hold onto the boy’s forearms wanting his whole attention. It doesn’t take long until you have it. It’s starting to be cold, shivers run through his body but his eyes don’t leave yours.

Silence surrounds you, the moonlight shining over you like the night you first met. The moment is confidential, intimate if you will. Chan can only feel his whole body burning up when you close off the distance, your lips at the shell of his ear.

“I’m going to do something, and I need you to be calm.” Your nose rests over his cheekbone, nails almost craving your mark on him. When he is about to talk, you get ahead. “Do you trust me?”

Saliva gets stuck in his throat, any attempt at talking gone in vain. His brain says no, pleading for Chan to realize he is in front of a mythical creature that could kill him in seconds, but his heart says otherwise. He nods, hoping, praying, it’s enough of an answer for you.

Neon blue eyes shine before they’re closing and your lips are stealing a kiss from him. It’s short and fast, lips colliding and separating under three seconds. Pulling backwards you leave him wanting for more, needing to feel your lips on his again. A rapid action that he couldn’t quite wait to repeat.

Yet, before he can execute any of his desires, your hands around his forearms are pulling and water hits your vision like Chan had never experienced before. Fish swim around you, not in any way trying to harm you but rather welcoming you to their homes, leaving the human in awe. He finds himself mesmerized by the marine wildlife, not even realizing his newfound ability of breathing underwater.

Your hands have left his arms, leaving him swimming behind you. Slowing down, you stop, waiting for him to reach you. When he does, you don’t think he is going to be able to say anything about any of the million thoughts that surely are going through his mind at the moment.

When everything is new, and terrifying, Chan hugs you. It’s tight, like he had been waiting for this moment for his whole life. Various families of sea stars stop their journey to wait and see the moment.

He gets out of the embrace and smiles. He is fast, not as fast as you, but faster than most humans. It feels like he is in his element when he speeds through the water getting ahead of you. It’s mesmerizing, how his wet hair sticks to his eyes but he still swims like it’s breathing for him. It’s captivating, but again, everything about him seems to be.

Hundreds of cobalt awaits you when you reach the bottom of the ocean. Chan is pretty sure he just won the lottery, he can’t even start to think how he should feel right now. He looks to his left and knows it right away. He feels enchanted. Enchanted by your neon blue eyes, and your scales and tail, but overall, by you. By the way you laugh at his questions and smile as his hands hold yours.

Your mind goes faster than The Francisco, thoughts racing to be the one that catches your attention. And still, Chan appears to be the one that always has it. Locking eyes with him, you grasp his hand and tug. Before he can even blink, you’re already at the surface.

A dumbfounded smile finds its way to Chan’s face. He’s gleaming, the moonlight shining on him like she just found a new son.

“I didn’t die!” he says, eyes sparkling and the hand in yours trembly.

“No you didn’t.”

The ocean is filled with laughs and giggles, easiness coming off you. Your hand leaves his hold and goes to his hair, it’s dripping wet and curly. You are sure it had been like that before, you simply hadn’t realized it until now.

His curls wrap around your fingers the second you touch them. They are soft and shiny and you can’t comprehend why the first time you saw Chan his hair was straight.

“Your hair is curly,” you state the obvious.

“Yeah, I usually straighten it though.” His hand goes up his forehead and removes the strands of hair that keep falling over his eyes.

Your eyes narrow, curious and confused. Hearing your unsaid question, he answers. “Most people I know like it more when it’s straight.”

You scoff, hands going up his chest to his shoulders. Pushing him closer, you entangle your hands on his hair again, focusing on his wild locks.

“Well, mermen who have curly hair are praised on since it’s told that they are descendants of Poseidon.” You look down, giggles erupting from you before you can stop them. Arms tangling around his neck. “And as you probably know, he’s kind of a notorious figure for us. You’d be pretty famous around here Chan, all of the mermaids behind you waiting for your praise…”

Scents combine and heat rises to Chan’s cheekbones. The tips of his ears are reddening, heartbeat going up alongside, noses brush and then you are gone.

His eyes open up, mad at your playfulness but you are smiling with your lower lip caught under your teeth, so he lets it pass. Aware of his brand new ability not lasting forever, he leaves you in order to explore more of the vast world that consists of your home.

Reaching the island shortly after being left alone, you sit on the shore close to Chan’s boat. All of the fruits he had brought with him had already ended yesterday, his rod left useless beside the empty basket.

Buzz against your arm startles you until you see what Chan had explained before was his phone.

(1:47) Felix

dude where are you

everyone is crazy worried for you

your parents almost called the police but minho convinced them not to

you were supposed to go max one day to catch us some cool fish not be gone for 5 days

text back as fast as possible!!

Your hand goes up to your mouth and you turn to look at the boy playing in the water. You had almost forgotten. He is a human, with a life on land and loved ones waiting for him to come back to them.

A presence appears behind you, a comforting hand resting on your shoulder. You sigh, after all, Seungmin was right, Chan didn’t belong with you.

“I can make him go peacefully right now, you just need to bring him here and give me the green light.”

Seungmin’s words make your eyes shine with tears. It would be stupid to say it was love, nevertheless, you didn’t think just because it wasn’t love your feelings for him didn't matter or weren’t supposed to be taken seriously.

People leaving is a natural occurrence that happens to everyone. You, in particular, are very much aware that change happens and sometimes there is no control about it. However, are you ready to let the curly haired boy leave your life forever?

It’s times like these when you understand why your elders always warned the youngest about approaching the land people. It wasn’t about the possible danger, but about the almost sure attachment.

You want to say goodbye, but you know if you even try, you won’t be able to let him go.

Seungmin hugs you from behind, chin resting over your head due to your seating position, “sorry’s” being whispered between the two of you. Before you know it he is gone, screaming to get the human’s attention.

You don’t turn, but you hear Seungmin’s voice doing magic on Chan. Your hands cover your ears before it’s too late. You regret it when you hear Chan falling on Seungmin’s arms, wishing you were asleep too.

Blur is all around you, the figure of the human being left in his boat by Seungmin becoming a vague shadow between the gloom and the moonlight.

Cleaning the tear falling from your left eye, you close your eyes and put your hands together. Next, a wave is carrying Chan to where he came from. Home.

Uselessness wasn’t an uncommon feeling for Chan, it was rather regular to be honest, but that didn’t mean he expected to feel it about his summer love ending abruptly.

Summer love, quite the funny wording for five days of discovery and enjoyment. He knows it wasn’t love, but that doesn’t stop him from calling it that.

He would say what he is more angry about is the abruptness of it all. You were gone as fast as you appeared. No, he was the one gone. No goodbyes, no explanations, only a fast travel back to his family.

He remembers perfectly the sensation of waking up at shore in Sydney with aquamarines filling his before empty fruit basket. Wanting to scream into the water, pleading for you to come back, trying to go back to you swimming and realizing he couldn’t breath underwater anymore.

His parents had been furious, asking for explanations and giving him mad reactions when he said he wanted to feel the marine nature from closer. He had always been a bad liar.

His friends had asked for explanations as well, but ended up joking about his little adventure, pretending that he had been enchanted by a siren. Little did they know.

Sitting in his house, eating sardines with his visiting friend from Korea wasn’t exactly as fun as it should be. He didn’t want to be there, as much as he loved Minho, he earned for your touch, to kiss you one last time like kisses were supposed to be given, not like your first one was.

Sighing, he got up, going outside and letting the night breeze play with his curls. Almost feeling your hands threading through his hair.

The nights pass, the moon shining as bright as ever for her new son. As time passes, your memory begins to fade from Chan’s brain. The forever beautiful mermaid leaving him quietly like a daughter coming home late from a party.

He believes to have seen inhuman blue eyes peeking from the water to his house sometimes, but he lets it wash away from his mind.

Old ancestors' stories tell that a true love kiss from a mermaid can give humans the power to breathe underwater for the rest of their life’s. But don’t get too ahead of yourselves hatchlings, there’s no actual record of that being true. Different worlds are not meant to collide.

@mochamvgz @leonsmain

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cheeseburgersinparadise · 1 month

Note

I've been waiting for Horny Friday to drop the ✨Stuffed Burps thoughts✨

Person eating a heavy meal at home and having to rub their bloated belly afterwards to coax up some belches trapped in their stomach

Person struggling and failing to stifle burps while they're out in public. Maybe they ate a little too much at a restaurant, maybe a shake they had isn't sitting how their expected, either way they try to belch without opening their mouth and while it ISN'T as loud as it could be, it's deep and long and still calls attention to them. Oops!

Person having their belly rubbed or played with by another person from behind before blasting out a guttural belch that was knocked loose

Person burping every couple of words because they're drunk and stuffed and rubbing their gut as they struggle to get a sentence out before the next burp beats them to it

!!!!!!!!

I was going to try and pick a fave of these scenarios but they’re all so good. I do think that someone burping from a belly rub from someone else is the hottest to me, because it feels intimate and hot and I just wanna do it very badly lmao.

HOWEVER I am an absolute slut for intox/burping/feedism so that last one is also hitting xxxxxxtremely well.

Those have to be my top two, but you know what would be better. Combining them. Someone drunk and stuffed and bloated, shamelessly moaning how good it feels to have their belly rubbed by their partner, pants unbuttoned and freely belching. Maybe eating a little more too - intox always gives you a second wind ;)

Thank you!! I love this ask ☺️

#chzburger answers #tw intox #eructo

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albertasunrise · 10 months

Text

Seeing Things - Oops Baby

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your hear broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+ (So... I am trying to update my other pics but the reaction I getting from this ones really giving me the motivation to continue it... so thank you and I hope you enjoy this update! ♥️ It's not a super long one but everything gonna become clear I promise!)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

In the weeks that followed, the sightings of you only increased. You seemed to be everywhere he looked, asking him the same thing over and over again.

Come back to me

He wished he knew what you wanted. Surely you didn't want him to leave little Esme? You would never have wanted him to hurt himself so why did you ask him to go back to him? You were dead!

"I brought you your favourites." He stated plainly as he pulled out the old bouquet of flowers Ben had brought you the week before. He poured out the stagnant water and replenished it with some from the bottle of water he'd stashed in his pack. Then, just as you had shown him on one of the many evenings you'd spent together, he arranged them carefully, sure to make sure they were just how you would have liked them.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited sooner." He said as he got to his feet and rubbed the back of his neck nervously "Things have been busy with the baby and work... Don't want to bore you with the details but ya know... It's been hard." He let out a long sigh as he scraped his hand over his face to wipe away the traitorous tears that tracked down his cheeks "Esme's getting so big so fast." He continued "You should see her Titch, the spitting image of you! With the addition of my hair and eyes." He chuckled.

His eyes traced over the words carved into your headstone.

The words Here Lies carved in an elegant font followed by your first name and last name, 'Titch' at the end by request of Ben

Friend and Mother

Forever loved

Never forgotten

Ben had selected the words. Frankie hadn't been able to bring himself to do it so the younger Miller had stepped up. Taking the 'anything I can do to help' statement he'd made to Fish when you'd died so literally.

"Seeing you everywhere is killing me Titch." Frankie said after a short pause "Is this what you meant? Come to me, did you mean this? Because I am wracking my brains baby, trying to understand what it is you want from me." He sobbed "The guys all think I'm losing the plot but I know you're there. Just out of eyeshot or something and I know you're trying to tell me something so please... help me understand Titch."

He paused, his eyes locked on the headstone as he let out a shaky breath before pleading one last time.

"Please..."

"Frankie." Your voice made him just and his head shot up, scanning the surroundings for you.

"Frankie please..." You pleaded "Please don't leave me."

No matter where he looked he couldn't see you. But he could hear you like you were right beside him.

"What do you mean?" He begged, tears openly spilling down his cheeks "I'm here Titch... Baby I'm here!"

"Please don't leave me, Frankie." You repeat, your tone breaking his heart as he desperately looked for you among the headstones "I can't do this without you."

This statement let Frank's brows draw together. What did you mean by that? He was the one who'd been left behind. Your pleads disappeared like smoke on the wind and Frankie was left with the sound of his own breathing and the rattling of branches. He pressed his palms firmly against his eyes as he tried to slow his breathing, his pounding heart hammering against his ribs.

"I can't do this." He whispered to no one in particular, allowing the dam to break "Fuck I can't... I can't cope with this."

You didn't say anything else and Frankie audibly groaned before pushing himself to his feet. He didn't understand why you were doing this. Torturing him. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

...

"Well, ain't that better Lil' Titch?" Ben said as he finished fastening her babygrow "Uncle Ben's not so bad at this huh?"

Esme smiled in reply, her legs kicking and arms waving in visible excitement before he scooped her into his arms and planted a big kiss on her cheek. She settled quickly on his shoulder and he smiled as she let out a little sigh and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

"Shit Titch... I wish you could see how perfect she is." He whispered as he placed a kiss on the infant's brow.

"Hands off... she's mine." Frank teased as he walked into the lounge, grinning as his best friend cuddled his daughter so closely.

"You gotta share the baby Fish!." Ben chuckled as he gently gingerly sat on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah...” Frank grumbled as he waved off his friend, traipsing to the kitchen to fetch a beer.

“How’d it go?” Ben asked when the older man reappeared, giving him a sympathetic smile as he watched him sit on the armchair across from him.

“How’d what go?”

“Seeing Titch!”

“Was fine.” Frankie shrugged, fooling no one once again.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Ben pushed and Frankie groaned.

“Ben…”

“You gotta talk about this shit man!” Ben pushed, pleading with his eyes for his friend to just open up to him.

“You won’t believe me!”

“Why would you-“

“I heard Titch again.” Frank snapped, keeping his voice low so he didn’t wake his baby.

“What do you mean you heard her?”

“I keep hearing her talking to me. Sometimes I see her and she always says the same thing!”

“Which is?”

"To go back to her." Frank replied, scraping a shaky hand over his face.

"Go back to her?"

"Yes, Ben!" He snarled "And today she was begging me not to leave her!" He choked "But she left me Ben!... I loved her and she left me all alone..." He trailed off as he broke down into tears, head in his hands.

Ben got up and placed Esme in her Moses basket with practised ease before sitting on the arm of the chair Frank was sitting in and pulling him close.

"I can't do this..." He sobbed and Ben sighed "I don't know what she wants from me."

"Fish... this is just your brain's way of holding onto her." Ben sighed "We all deal with grief in different ways... Shit, I keep listening to the last voicemail she left me over and over again just so I don't forget her voice!"

"No!" Frank all but shrieked "That's not what this is Ben! It's her I know it is!"

"You can't seriously believe Titch is haunting you, man!" Ben sighed as he stood up to check on Esme as she started to fuss.

"I don't know how else to explain it, Ben!" He growled "I keep seeing her everywhere and she keeps repeating the same thing over and over!"

"Fish-"

"But then today she said something different." Frankie interrupted " She begged me not to leave her... Told me she couldn't do this without me..." He trailed off whilst nervously pacing his lounge "What does that even mean? She can't do this without me... She can't be dead without me? Doesn't make any fucking sense!"

"Fish... Man, you need to calm down!" Ben pleaded, noting how breathless the pilot has suddenly become "This won't be doing your heart any good man!"

"My heart's fine!" The older man grumbled.

"You say that but this can't be good for you!" Ben warned "Just take a breath man... I believe you, okay! I believe you saw her."

"You're just saying that." Fish scoffed, rolling his eyes when Ben frantically shook his head.

"I'm really not okay!" The younger man pleaded "Just... Just please."

Frankie sighed as he ran a shaky hand through his mussed hair. His eyes then drifted to Esme who was staring over at him with her large, teary eyes. His heart ached and he was quick to scoop her up into his arms and lay a soothing kiss on the crown of her head.

"I'm sorry baby girl." He whispered as he bounced her gently in his arms "I just miss your mummy so much."

"We all do brother." Ben said as he placed a comforting hand on Frankie's back "I'm not trying to say that I even remotely understand the pain you're feeling brother but know that I miss her so much it hurts... And that I am here! Whatever you need..."

Frankie nodded, giving his friend a weak smile before resting his cheek on the top of Esme's head.

"I know Ben." He said softly "Thanks."

"Any time." Ben replied, giving his friend a friendly wink before grabbing his stuff to leave "See you tomorrow for dinner yeah?"

"Sure." The pilot replied softly "See you then."

...

"Why the fuck did you pick a restaurant that didn't have a parking lot asshole!" Ben grumbled as he pushed Esme's pram along the pavement, the steep hill making it a little harder.

"It had good reviews okay!" Will grumbled, "It's not that bad!"

"You're not the one pushing a pram up a 90-degree hill!" Ben grumbled, pulling a smirk from Frankie.

"You offered brother!" Frank pointed out, sniggering at the groan that he received in reply "I can take her if you're struggling."

"I am not struggling!" Ben argued and Fish threw his hands up in surrender.

"We're nearly there!" Will piped up "Just across the street."

The three of them reached the crossing, breathing a small sigh of relief when the restaurant came into view. Will crossed first with Ben following closely behind him. Something had distracted Frankie, leading him to step out a few steps behind his friends but your voice calling his name stopped him in his tracks and he looked to his left, your figure illuminated by a bright white light.

"Come back to me." You pleaded as you always did and Frankie froze. Tears sprouted as he looked at you smiling back at him as you held your hand out to him "Come back to me."

You disappeared as quickly as you appeared, a horn sounding before Ben screamed his name. Then suddenly he was flying for a brief moment before his body connected with something solid and he rolled over it before hitting the ground with a sickening crunch.

"FISH!!" Ben screamed as he ran to the pilot's side, hands shaking as he took in his friend's condition "Fish stay with me." He choked as he saw how bent and broken the older man looked.

Frankie winced as he turned his head, noting how Will was standing with the pram as he frantically spoke to who he assumed was the emergency service on his phone. He also noted that the driver who had hit him was nowhere to be seen.

Hit and run.

"Ben." He coughed after he spoke, blood filling his throat at an alarming rate.

"Shhhh." He hushed the man and stroked his hair, desperately trying to keep himself together "Just keep breathing for my Fishsticks!" He pleaded 'Please don't leave me..."

His last statement blended into yours. He could hear you again, pleading not to leave you and he only felt more confused. He was dying... it was clear that he was so surely he was going back to you.

Surely you should be happy?

"Please, Frankie... Please don't leave me."

You pleaded... your voice shaky.

"I'm coming Titch." He whispered. His eyes fell shut as darkness took him.

"What's happening?" You sobbed as hands moved you from the room.

"He's crashing!" Stated someone in the room and you shook your head as you were pushed into the hallway, still able to see everything through the glass walls of Frankie's room.

"Please, Frankie... Please don't leave me." You sobbed "Please..."

Another set of hands pulled you away but not before you witnessed them shock the man you loved, desperately trying to restart the heart that was supposed to save him. You were placed in a room where you had spent more time than you cared to remember in the past month and a half. Hours sat waiting for news on whether Frankie was going to pull through.

He'd gotten the heart he so desperately needed yet for close to two months he'd been in a coma, fighting battle after battle. This was just the latest in a long list of complications he'd suffered.

Kidney Failure... Infection... His body had even rejected the donor heart but that was something they had managed to detect early. It seemed his body just refused to get better, even if his mind wasn't willing to let go.

"What's happening?" Asked Ben as he stepped into the room after being directed here by a nurse, his brows tightly drawn in concern.

"He crashed." You sobbed as you threw your head into your hands.

"What?... What caused it?"

"I don't know." You replied, shaking your head "They dragged me in here as they tried to bring him back... I haven't heard anything yet."

Ben nodded solemnly as he sat down beside you, handing you Esme when you held your arms out to receive her. You needed to hold your baby.

"Why won't he get better Ben?" You sobbed as your eyes locked with his.

"He's really poorly." He replied softly "He needs time to get better."

"But that's just it... He's not getting better!"

"He will, Titch." Ben assured you and you sighed.

"How do you know that?"

"Because he's got something to fight for." He stated plainly.

The two of you then sat in that room for what felt like hours, glad of Esme to keep you somewhat distracted from what the outcome of this latest setback might be. The doctor appeared sometime later. His expression was difficult to read.

"How is he Doc?" Ben asked, holding your free hand tightly in his.

"We managed to bring him back." The doctor announced, "He's weak and we have had to up his anti-rejection meds."

"He's rejecting the heart again?"

"He never technically stopped." The doctor stated "We have been able to keep it under control with medication. He seems to be responding well though and we're hopeful."

You both breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief, glad that finally, something was going right.

"There's something else though." The doctor stated and both you and Ben shared a grim glance before looking at the doctor again.

"What is it?" You asked, your voice shaking slightly.

"He's awake."

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

#frankie morales × reader #frankie morales × you #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales triple frontier #francisco morales triple frontier #francisco morales × you #francisco morales fanfiction #francisco morales #francisco morales × reader #triple frontier x you #triple frontier × reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal

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tj-dragonblade · 5 months

Note

hello hello, how about #6 for the spotify wrapped 👀

6 - Arwen's Vigil by The Piano Guys This is an instrumental piece evoking steadfast hope and sweeping passions, and I think it calls for a Knight!Hob AU. Visually, Hob will be a tidied-up version of 1389 and Dream will have Tom's Hollow Crown look.

(Synopsis bled into scene-drafting oops)

Dream, the ruler of wherever, has sent his best men on a dangerous quest of some sort. Including his unspoken favorite, his most faithful, the man who holds his heart, the man who will never know it. Dream cannot abuse his station; he is the king; Hob is his knight. They cannot be together. But nothing can stop him holding vigil each night as he waits for news, his thoughts circling on Hob, praying for his safe return.

The news when it comes is bittersweet; the quest was successful but at great price. Only three of the ten men remain to return home; the message does not tell who. Dream paces endlessly, frets endlessly, heart perpetually in his throat as he grapples with the not-knowing, the fear that his Hob has perished.

When the men return they are only two; the third fell to bandits on the road and the second is gravely injured. The first, Dream sees with a relief that threatens to overwhelm him, is his Hob.

The injured man is seen to, rushed to the medics; Hob is tired and dirty but unharmed, and Dream calls for a bath to be drawn in his private quarters. He will tend to Hob himself, with the viable excuse of debriefing him re: the quest.

So before long we wind up with Hob dozing quietly in the warm bath in Dream's quarters, Dream watching over him, letting him doze and making sure he doesn't slip underwater, keeping the fire roaring, etc. Ooh, ooh, there should be a hair washing scene first, Dream washing Hob's chest and shoulders and beard for him, gentle and intimate and Hob protesting his king serving him this way and Dream shushing him with something like 'My noble steadfast Hob, my most loyal and enduring friend (dangerous, so daring to admit aloud he considers him thus), let me take care of you for once' and so Hob quiets, and lets him, and Dream moves on to the proper hair washing and by the time he's finished Hob is drifting asleep.

So Dream lets him sleep, keeps watch, tends the fire etc, and after a bit he's sitting on a chair by the tub lost in thought when there's a wet touch to his hand and he looks up to find Hob's warm brown eyes fixed steadfastly on him.

"My liege," Hob says softly, gaze unwavering, and brings Dream's hand to his lips, lets them graze over the knuckles.

Dream sucks in a breath, shaken, filled with such ardent longing that he fears to speak, lest he give himself away. But Hob is still speaking.

"I have faced death many times, but none more certainly than this last."

"Hob—"

"And I'm alright with that." He sits up, leans forward, still holding Dream's hand. "I will go where you send me; I will serve you to my last breath and die gladly if it means you're safe. But having faced that possibility so starkly—" he turns Dream's hand, presses his lips soft to the cup of Dream's palm "—I have realized. There are things I do not wish to take to my grave." He arches Dream's hand back gently, places a softly-heartfelt kiss to the inside of his wrist, lifts his eyes back to Dream's.

"My lord Dream. It is not simply my sword and my service which are pledged to you, but my heart as well."

Dream cannot help the gasp that escapes him; neither can he manage words, which is just as well as Hob is still speaking.

"I know we can never be, and I do not expect any return of my feelings. I am happy to love you silently from afar, as I always have. This—" his lips brush the pulse beating furiously in Dream's wrist "—is more than enough, your care and consideration of me here, they are more than enough. If I am to die in some future endeavor, then I will die at peace knowing you are aware that you were loved by me. And that is enough."

"You dare." Dream finds his voice at last, though it trembles terribly. "You. Dare. To speak so carelessly of dying, when I have spent days sick with worry of your welfare, when I have not slept for fear I had lost you this time, when I have only just had those fears assuaged by your return—"

Hob is quite taken aback, but still he holds Dream's hand. "My liege—"

"Dream." The tremor in his voice matches the wavering of tears filling his vision, the way his fingers tremble in Hob's gentle hold. "You will call me Dream when it is only you and I, and you will not greet death so cavalierly should it come for you. You will exercise every caution, you will fight with your all to return to me, for I could not bear to lose you, not now, when you tell me that the heart I so long for is pledged to me in truth, I could not bear it—"

He is cut off by the soft touch of Hob's fingers to his lips, wet and wrinkled from the bath water, beseeching his silence. He meets Hob's eyes, tears spilling over soundlessly, and finds Hob's gaze wide, wondering, warm and hopeful and dark enough to drown in; when Hob's fingertips move gently from his lips to touch his tears, to reverently stroke a single droplet away, Dream shivers. And when Hob releases his hand, moves closer, when both of Hob's hands are gently framing his face, when Hob is gazing up at him with naked adoration, Dream knows he is lost. He does not fight the way Hob leans up and draws him down; he cannot fight his own desires any longer and he cannot deny this man any wish.

The kiss is tentative, soft, Hob's lips sliding across his, between, pressing gently until Dream gasps—

And Hob draws back, eyes searching Dream's, seeking permission, confirmation that his forwardness is welcome, and Dream can think of no better assurance than to kiss him again.

He lunges forward, mouth finding Hob's unerringly, and it is Hob this time who gasps, whereupon Dream brings his tongue into the kiss and then Hob moans. Dream touches him, as he has longed to do for years, strokes through his wet beard and wet hair, touches the wet curves of his shoulders and the glorious mat of wet hair on his chest, heedless of the drag of his own sleeves in the bathwater.

"My lord Dream—" Hob barely pulls away, lips brushing Dream's as he speaks.

"Not here," Dream interrupts. "Never here, think me not your lord when we are alone, I beg—let me be just a man, let me be but the one who would hold your heart dear and trust that you hold mine the same—"

"Dream," Hob says then, tremulous, wondering, and the blossoming familiarity of Dream's unadorned name on Hob's lips has him swooning back into a kiss.

It quickly grows desperately impassioned, fierce and frantic as emotions rise and inhibitions fall in their wake. Hob flounders about in the tub and stands, bringing Dream up with him, pulling Dream to him and picking him up, cradling Dream bridal-style as he steps out of the tub, naked and streaming wet and still kissing his king. Dream clings around his neck, lost in the ardent warmth of Hob's mouth, uncaring of how Hob's wet hirsute body makes an absolute ruin of his clothing.

He will not be wearing it much longer, regardless.

So I guess this will be going in the wip pile but there is no telling if or when I'll get back to it. The rest will just be smut; Hob carries Dream over to the furs spread on the stone floor in front of the fire, lays him down, strips him bare of his wet robes with reverence, tenderly fingers him open and then makes love to him over and over, ardent and adoring and attentive until tears of joy and pleasure are streaming from Dream's eyes, until his heart and body sing with the love Hob bears him, the love he bears Hob in turn. Or something equally purple-prosed and sappy. This will be smut to rot your teeth on I assure you.

Inevitably this art and the third one here ended up rotating in my mind even if they don't quite apply to what I scribbled down - they convey the same kind of mood.

Spotify Wrapped Askmeme Post

#Thank you Vi ❤️#askmemes #TJs Fics #of a sort #SpotifyWrapped asks #Dreamling #Sandman

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brighteyedbushybrowed · 8 months

Note

can we get some copia headcanons on how he would confess to his love interest?

I am once again in my head over heels madly in love with Copia era (as if I ever left) so I'm jumping at the chance to write these headcanons. They are a bit self indulgent though oops

When Copia first realises that he has feelings for you, he's terrified

He's never been the luckiest when it comes to matters of love

And because of that he's too scared of rejection and making things awkward to confess straight away

He'll only confess either when he's certain you feel the same way or he's worried that he'll be too late to confess

And when Copia does confess?

Let me tell you

He tries to go ALL OUT

He buys so many of your favourite flowers to set up in a beautiful arrangement in the gardens that you're pretty sure he bought an entire florist's stock of them

He'll get whichever ghouls know how to play the violin to play something classical as he escorts you to the little candlelit table he's set up amongst the flowers

He gets you to sit at the table and gets on his knees as he tries to confess

And then it all goes wrong

Some of the flowers have been damaged or accidentally squashed because a couple of the ghouls got into a fight while Copia was looking for you

The wind has blown out the candles

And Copia completely forgets everything he wanted to say out of nerves and he gets so upset about it that he has to fight back tears

In the end, you wind up getting on your knees beside him and pulling him into a hug as you comfort and reassure him that whatever he wanted to say he can still say it, you're listening

And so, once he's calmed down, he stammers out his confession

That he's loved you for so long, he wanted to make this very special because you deserve special and the best that he can give you

That you don't need to return his feelings and if you'd rather stay friends then he's okay with that

His face lights up when you tell him that you do feel the same way

And then he starts crying (happy tears of course)

He's not used to having people love him and want him in the way that you do with no ulterior motives

You both end up cuddling under the stars with the wind brushing against your skin and the ghouls playing a beautiful (and somewhat dissonant) violin quartet

#cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #the band ghost #headcanons #headcanon requests

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bubble-dream-inc · 1 year

Text

Lemniscate (the place between sleeping and awake)

a chance encounter with your superior during a very lonely holiday season leads to an interesting conversation and an insight on yours and Ghost’s relationship.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 4,8k

a/n: i had to repost this bc tumblr was being fussy and hiding it oops. also i was listening to so handsome hello by woodkid while writing this so there’s my song rec for the day. i am down bad for this man someone help me! thank u loml @deafeningcat for being the best beta reader ever, always <3

warnings: explicit talk about death, war, trauma and violence, suggestive, profanity, ghost being ooc, sex as a coping mechanism for ptsd, heavy antimilitarism, angst to fluff, slight prey and size kink if you squint, non intentional liverpool slander, reader is part of 141, soap calls you "bonnie" once but otherwise no gender especified for reader, reader thinks they can fix him and is sorta emotionally dependent so its kinda toxic idk, intentional repeating of words, christmas/holidays ambience. MDNI

The puddles rippled under your boots, and right there under the faint street light which reflected the light drizzle of rain darkening the already pitch black night sky, you remembered how much you hate the holidays. Sure, it felt nice not having to worry that much about being ambushed or shot or killed for once, but you’d be lying if you said you looked forward to having time off from work. Having spent the last few years constantly living on edge, running solely on the primal instinct of survival for weeks on end had you addicted to the adrenaline, and you forgot what it’s like to be completely at ease a long time ago.

You felt your skin dampen under your clothes in the humid air. You haven’t bothered with an umbrella; you have been through worse. Liverpool was never your cup of tea, the sky was too gray and the wind felt like tiny needles attacking your skin on the rare occasion it wasn’t raining, and in moments like these you missed the scorching summer sun from your hometown. But again, could you really call it home? That thought had been lingering in the back of your head as an ugly reminder of one of the shittiest parts of your job ever since a few days ago when the base you were stationed in was filled with the sound of rambunctious laughter and the smell of cheap cigarettes and beer, all of it a reflect of a mission well done. The intel was useful, the danger was dealt with, and your teammates could not be more grateful the timing was just right so that they could go spend some time off with their families for the holidays. You weren’t really thinking too hard about it, too absorbed in your teasing banter with Gaz, until Soap turned to you.

“What about you, bonnie? Where ya spendin’ your holidays at? Going home?”

You had shaken your head no with a chuckle, swallowing the bad taste the word home left in your mouth and masking your discomfort. Having all their attention on you as your team mates waited for your answer wasn’t inherently bad, but you did have to ignore Simon’s piercing stare from across the group, focusing only on Soap and trying to not give in to your instinct of looking back at your Lieutenant. As the years went by, you’d found out that was just the way that he was, and you had to learn how to differentiate when he actually wanted for someone to be scared by his constant, terrifying eye contact, and when to know he was simply looking in your general vicinity. Not that it worked that well, of course, since just his massive presence and the low timbre of his voice could make anyone’s fight or flight instinct blare sirens in their head, and yet, at some point you realized you liked it. You felt like a prey under his gaze, and the fact that it both terrified and excited you was intoxicating.

“Nah. I’m heading to Liverpool, i think, as usual”

Being in Liverpool for you was far from pleasant, but a few years before you decided to go there for your time off just because it was closer to the base you were stationed in and you had nowhere else to go, and it became a tradition, even if it sometimes felt like self punishment. It certainly seemed like it, you thought as you wandered aimlessly through a quieter part of the city, occasionally passing through a group of tipsy barely-of-age kids, or a happy looking family going back to the comfort of their cozy homes together. It made your chest ache, but the loneliness got duller after so much time being surrounded only by the 141 members and having to watch so many people you knew die on the front lines.

“Do you regret it? Joining the military?”

You had asked Ghost one day after you two had to get holed up in a dingy safe house, trying to pass the time while waiting for exfil. He had stared at you for a few seconds, silently, and you wondered if you had crossed a line by asking something way too personal, but in a moment he was back to staring at the worn out coffee table in front of the couch you were in.

“No. I did what had to be done at the time.”

While somewhat cryptic, you accepted his answer without prying for more, but after a few seconds he looked back at you, not going unnoticed how his eyes looked a bit more tired than usual.

“Do you?”

You remember sighing.

“Everyday. War is hell.”

He only hummed in response, putting an end to the conversation that had barely been started, but your mind dwelled on your answer. It seemed like ages ago when you were a starry-eyed private, having been fooled by the military propaganda promising you’d be a hero, but that resolve quickly broke a few months later in your first mission, and you certainly didn’t feel like a hero after taking someone else’s life for the first time.

Lost in thought as you walked, you almost paid no mind to the man in your path that was leaning towards a lamp post and having a cigarette, if not for the fact that even from a distance you could see he was massive. There was only one person you knew that seemed as tall as that, and that was your-

“Lieutenant?” You squinted, being pretty sure you couldn’t mistake your towering 6’4 masked superior over someone else, and he acknowledged you with a look. If he was surprised to see you, he didn't show it. “Liverpool sure is tiny, huh? I thought you were from Manchester.”

“I am.”

His answers were rarely something other than short and dry, and he knew you knew better than to pry into his own personal reasonings, even because you also had no real reason to stick around that city and yet there you were. Still, the laidback-ish atmosphere of being between missions made it easier for you to act a little more daring than usual, treading lightly as you questioned him, unable to hold back your curiosity. Alas, you found yourself hypnotized by the way Simon’s full lips wrapped around his cigarette as he took a slow drag, waiting for you to say something.

“Heading somewhere?” Your voice sounded foreign even to yourself, and you didn’t know whether to blame the cold, the awkwardness of feeling like you were bothering your superior on his time off, or the way just being by his general vicinity made your chest ache with a feeling you hadn’t quite been able to name yet, but you shrugged all of it off and focused on trying to act as normally as possible.

“Not really. Are you?”

“Not really” You mimicked his words, smiling faintly and wanting to imagine that you actually saw mirth in his eyes. “Lookin’ for a pub that’s still open, but I'm not having too much luck with it.” You paused, unable to stop the next words that came out of your mouth. “Care to join me?”

Ghost pondered your bold request for a moment before putting out his cigarette by stepping on it and nodding with his head for you to lead the way. His way of communicating with so little words made you uneasy at first, but nowadays you’d find it endearing.

And that’s how you ended up in a beaten up looking pub near the port, sitting side by side with Simon by the bar, acutely aware of the bartender eyeing you two warily. You weren’t sure if he was angry for the fact that the bar actually had customers, which meant he couldn’t go enjoy time off at home, or if he was intimidated by Ghost. Maybe both. It was an otherwise cozy little pub, the warm lighting and the low ceiling made you feel slightly comforted by your surroundings, even if there were only three other customers around and the air smelled of burnt oil and deep fried food. You tapped your fingers on the wooden surface of the bar while waiting for the grumpy bartender to bring your beer, comfortable with the silence between you and Simon. When it arrived, you watched with a side eye, trying to be discreet, as he raised his mask slightly to take a sip of his bourbon, even if you knew he had noticed you.

Ghost’s face was somewhat familiar to you. Less than his body, admittedly.

There were a handful of times you had seen him without his mask, but you had barely committed its features to memory since it had mostly been in the dark confines of his quarters - which made you think how nice it must be to have a rank high enough to have your own room - and in times where staring at his face was not the first thing on your mind. It didn’t matter anyway, knowing he really was handsome after all under the balaclava didn’t change how your chest would tighten at the sight of him way before you dreamt of seeing his whole face.

Being alone with your superior was hardly foreign at this point, after so many years and everything you had been through together, and while you had never said it directly to him, his company was enjoyable. You remember clearly; It had happened the first time during mid summer after a mission gone particularly wrong in Somalia. One hour in the shower later, scrubbing your skin raw, you still felt dirty and grimy, as if you believed you could let go along with the blood-dirtied water the screams of all the civilians you had heard and the image ingrained into your brain of all the innocent people lying dead on the streets, massacred without a second thought. You tried showering, smoking, drinking, going for a walk, talking to your fellow team mates - all of them who looked just about as shaken as you were - but nothing could get your mind off of it. Mid walk, you had rounded a corner inside the base and locked eyes with Ghost, who was coming from the opposite direction, and, for reasons unknown, something instantly changed in the air between you. Sure, you had flirted a bit and perhaps given some indication of your attraction towards him before, but at that moment maybe you looked more distraught than you thought, and in only a split second after the very sudden eye contact, a non-verbal agreement was set, and quickly you found yourself glued to his broad chest, his hand lifting his mask just enough so you could connect your lips in a messy and aggressive kiss as he guided you to the door of his room. There’s no way to tell how long you were there for, but as you felt him blindly in the dark to hug his neck while he was inside you for the nth time, you were grateful he didn’t comment on your sobs that you now allowed to flow as freely as your tears, and, in turn, you didn’t comment on how tender your huge, scary superior could be, holding your face gently and whispering praises, comforting you the best he could.

It became something akin of a habit. At first it was just fucking to destress or to not have to deal in a proper way with all the trauma that came with your line of work, but then you started to linger. His touches became gentler, his big hands would stroke your skin instead of just gripping it hard enough to bruise, and you found yourself staring at his strong and scarred back one morning as he slept somewhat soundly beside you. Your hands itched to trace them, and at the moment you decided you wouldn’t mind sharing a bed, literally, with your superior more often, it was when you also realized you were fucked. To the others, surely it looked just like a very unethical and paperwork-worthy sexual tension, but you weren’t stupid, and not a teenager anymore, so you couldn’t find any excuses for the lingering glances and touches, how you started worrying more for him in battlefield, and you didn’t know if it was comforting or terrifying for you to think that he probably realized what was going on inside your head whenever he looked back at you, even if his hardened and unreadable gaze never faltered. Some nights, you’d find yourself alone in your cot wondering if you were imagining it all or if the longing you felt for his reciprocity was too delusional, and the thought made your throat ache in the worst way possible. You knew it was a bad idea, but you were unable to restrain yourself from finding your way back to his bed more often than not - and whenever he’d open the door for you when the base was already dead silent, realizing he also seemed glad to see you made all of your rational thoughts go out the window.

“Quit the starin’.”

Oh. Right. You were still looking at him. You muttered out a low sorry and looked down at your cup, well aware of Simon’s gaze burning holes into your face. So much for not staring.

“Why don’t you ever go home?”

There’s that word again. You wondered if your experience with feeling so stateless after fleeing from the place you used to call your own such a long time ago was that uncommon between soldiers, and suddenly the beer in your tongue didn’t taste that bitter anymore.

“It was just a place like any other. I’m afraid there hasn’t been anythin’ for me there in a while, so i guess i don’t really got one anymore.”

But again, you did wonder why Simon was all the way over to Liverpool and not Manchester, and a part of you selfishly hoped you weren’t alone with the gut wrenching feeling of not belonging anywhere but your base. Not that he’d ever admit to something like that. Simon was not the kind of man to say his thoughts clearly, or with words, for that matter.

“No family? Friends?”

Chuckling dryly, you’d let yourself linger a bit longer on Ghost’s sudden interest in actually knowing you more than physically if his bluntness didn’t amuse you in a bitter way.

“People realize really quickly how hard it is to keep relationships with someone who’s gone for months on end, and could very well be dead in a ditch the next time you try to call. Can’t say I blame ‘em.”

Simon said nothing in response, but his gaze on you seemed to soften a bit. Experiencing him outside of the battlefield was the kind of thing that would surely give you whiplash, years of military experience and living through horrors beyond comprehension would, of course, make him have a dangerous and reserved aura 24/7, but watching him let loose just a little bit and allow himself to be minimally vulnerable through his gaze and casually, softer spoken words were a new sort of fascinating. He was never the kind of person to ask things out of politeness, no, he was brazen and direct, so his genuine curiosity in you made it difficult to calm your already palpitating heartbeat.

Under the lights of a very dimly lit pub in East Liverpool, you were seeing not Ghost, not your Lieutenant, but only Simon Riley. You came to the conclusion you really liked this side of him. So, you decided to take your chances and prod a little bit more.

“What about you, Lieutenant? Where is home for you?”

“Classified.”

You chuckled, and a tiny, barely-there smirk formed on his lips before he hid it with the rim of his bourbon glass. It was worth a try.

You lost track of how long you were sitting there, in silence, just listening to the static-ish audio of the shitty television on the corner of the bar or the idle chat of other patrons, occasionally muttering something to Ghost, but it all felt superficial. You wanted to jump him, to strip him bare, not of his clothes, but of all of him that was a façade, and lay down every word left unsaid. Maybe it was selfish, but you wanted him to let you care for him the way he cared for you. For every time he’d wordlessly patch up your wounds in a dirty alleyway, push you out of a sniper’s line of sight or bark orders for you to get to fucking safety, you wanted to help him through each nightmare (that he thought you didn’t notice it plagued his nights more often than not, leaving him restless the next day), and hold him close when the throes of carrying a whole team and an entire life of trauma on his back became too much to bear on his own. You felt like a fool, pining over a man who made no effort to hide how little he trusted people.

Soon enough, the pub grew quieter and more devoid of people, and at some point you and Ghost decided the bartender’s gaze was way too unwelcoming, as he clearly wanted to go home, so you wordlessly decided to go back to your aimless wandering. A few of your old army colleagues wouldn’t hesitate to pull off their military card to get what they wanted, whenever and however they wanted, but just the thought made your stomach turn in disgust. Your blood stained hands didn’t feel like the ones of a hero that deserved to be pampered.

“Why are you still here anyway?”

He had asked you a few days after your conversation in that dingy safehouse. You had found yourself brushing shoulders side by side together after you went out for a smoke in the base, running into him leaned against a parked truck, lost in thought. For some reason, the question made you feel ashamed to meet his eyes, even if his tone wasn’t accusatory; just curious.

“I feel like it’s too late for me. I’ve seen too much. There’s nothing else I know how to do at this point.”

Your tongue felt like lead inside your mouth. A part of you longed for an early retirement so you could live a quiet and monotonous life somewhere in the countryside, but you also knew most people with your lifestyle wouldn’t live enough to see retirement. Alas, deep inside you felt like it was impossible to not grow restless if you were to live a life free of the adrenaline you embraced as a vice. It felt hypocritical, suffering over the consequences of your own choices, but God knows you’d leave in a heartbeat if you weren’t already too far deep in. You’d suppose becoming a soldier had its good sides, though, even if just the idea of finding any comfort in your work made you uneasy. Surely you’d never have met the 141 otherwise and, consequently, made them your little dysfunctional found family. You’d hold onto that for the sake of your sanity. On your side, Ghost hummed, acknowledging what you were saying, and maybe you’d find he could relate to your feelings, somehow.

“It’s difficult to let go of a whole life of violence.”

His words had stuck with you, as wise and cryptic in a way only he managed to pull it off.

Outside, the drizzle seemed to have gotten a bit stronger in the last few hours, but neither of you cared enough for it. It didn’t feel that bad compared to the storms that rained over you in open fields or the mud you’d have to crawl across to stay hidden sometimes. You’d feel pretty stupid if this little rain actually got you sick, but that was a worry for future you. It didn’t even cross your mind to ask Ghost if you were heading somewhere, you just followed him blindly, analyzing him in silence and noticing he looked good in civilian clothes, the plain black hoodie fitting him perfectly. From the little distance you walked besides him, you could notice he was smelling good, a mixture of cologne and his natural musk which you were already very well acquainted with.

The street was clearly in a commercial district, and it felt even quieter than the one you were before. All the stores were closed with only a faint night light illuminating a few of their interiors, and you appreciated the faint smell of the sea by being somewhat close to the port.

You enjoyed the stillness of it all and the lack of people to make you jealous with their normal, happy lives.

Subconsciously, you barely noticed that you ended up scooting even closer to Simon as you walked, happy he didn’t seem to mind it.

Suddenly, he stopped mid-walk, and you became hyper aware of how much you were staring at him. God, you felt like a creep. After a second, he spoke in a murmur, not turning to look at you.

“Since when?”

You waited for him to elaborate what he meant, but it never came. Chuckling nervously, you peered up at him, confused.

“Since when…what?”

Finally, he turned to look at you with something indescribable in his eyes. It made you feel small, like he wanted to devour you, but it also made your heart leap in your chest, like he wanted to devour you.

“I know how you feel about me. You’re not very subtle about it. I’m not bloody stupid, kid. ”

Your head snapped towards him at his harsh words, even if his low voice and gentle-ish tone didn’t quite reflect the true nature of them, but any witty reply you had died down once you saw how his eyes were downturned in unease.

Oh.

You realized what he’s talking about, and turns out your late night musings were right - at least part of them. Simon leaves no opening to figure out by his body language what the bringing up of the topic means to him. Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he will reject you and reprimand you for being unprofessional (as if loving him was more unprofessional than fucking your superior). Maybe-

“I’m…not sure.” You admit, refusing to meet his steely gaze. “It just…happened. Stopped being just casual sex a while ago.”

His silence makes seconds feel like hours. You try to control your labored breathing by listening to the soft pitter-patter of the rain that’s back to drizzling on the store awning you’re both under. A part of you wishes the rain would suddenly get so strong it would break the awning and drag you away with the current from Simon’s soul-crushing silence. You feel stupid, foolish.

Fool, fool, fool-

He closes the distance between your bodies. Having never paid much detailed attention to the rare occasions when gloves didn’t adorn his hands outside the bedroom, you suddenly notice how much his palms feel a pleasant kind of rough and calloused when they don’t carry the intent of ravaging you, so big against your face as he gently cradles you. Of course, he knows you’re a soldier, not some porcelain doll to be easily broken, but God knows how much seeing him hold you as if you’re something precious makes your once-labored breathing come to a halt altogether. His eyes are soft, half lidded, and uncertain on you as he murmurs out sorrowfully.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, kid.”

For the first time ever, you feel like you’re the only person who’s ever seen Simon Riley look scared. You don’t know if he’s afraid of hurting you or the other way around.

Instinctively, your own hands gingerly go to the top of his in a light caress, and you fight against the urge to close your eyes and breathe in his musk as you lean into his touch. This up close he also smells faintly like cigarettes.

“Maybe not.” You admit, and you hope he can notice the way you look up at him with hearts in your eyes and willing to wear your own on your sleeve. “But I want to find out.”

He doesn’t really smile - he almost never does - , but his gaze holds a promise in it, a vow. One of his hands leaves your face to hike up his mask, and you expect it to stop just below his nose, as always, but he keeps going until it rests on top of his dirty blonde hair, making your breath hitch once again. You were wrong about him; you didn’t need to strip him bare, no, you realize he’d do it for you if you asked. A long time ago you decided you didn’t give a shit about how his face looked, but you made sure to take a good look at him, finally committing his features to memory, acknowledging his trust in you and also how much you really were a fool by underestimating it before. The stubble on his jaw feels coarse under your fingertips, and you indulge yourself by lightly tracing the scar on his lip the way you wanted to do with all of his marks ever since that morning. It occurs to you that even when the hookups turned into something more, you had never seen him so vulnerable, and it sets an equally giddy and unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, as if you were witnessing something you weren’t supposed to, but you weren’t about to question his resolve. Taking the reins - as he always does - his lips are on yours in an instant, and you swear you’d die happily at that instant.

The way he kisses you is something new, slow and passionate, as if trying to savor every piece of you at his pace and communicate what he doesn’t know how to put into words. You’d kissed before, sure, but it was always animalistic, an aggressive dance filled with wanton growls deep from his throat and your involuntary whines whenever he would bite your lip - a gazelle in the jaws of a lion - and in the occasions sex was tender, it was most likely because something bad had happened, and you’d hide your face in the crook of his neck so he could pretend not to notice how much you needed it - him - to cope and how much his touch kept you grounded; you’d like to imagine yours made him feel something of the sorts as well. Simon Riley was not the type of man to engage in raw emotional affairs without getting something out of it. And yet, as you close your eyes to hug his neck, bringing his large body impossibly closer to yours, you feel like he is finally giving all of him to you in the rawest way he knows how to. Of course, you’re not teenagers, and with the way of life you lead, emotional attachment can make any soldier feel dreadful for their future, so it would be foolish to expect a full on love confession in the rain, but, if anything, you suddenly realize you can feel Simon’s heart beating fast on his chest through your own, and that is enough for you, making you smile against him.

When you separate, there’s still minimal distance between you two, the air around you feels lighter, and you surround yourself in affection by the way Simon looks down at you adoringly. Any outsider would be quick to say he has the look of a stone cold predator, and he is as unreadable as they come, but once you start dealing with the true man under the mask - even if only figuratively -, you realize that his eyes are truly the window of his soul, and any words left unspoken you’d die to uncover are visible in his dark hues the moment he looks at you. A few blocks away, a clock tower strikes midnight and you spare the building a look from where you can see it.

“Merry Christmas, Simon.” You murmur, knowing full well religious holidays are neither yours or Simon’s thing. The irony of it all is lost when he huffs out a small noise of amusement and distances himself just enough to extend his arm for you to take, his gaze never leaving your form. You could point out he hasn’t really lowered his mask yet but you enjoy the view too much so you might as well indulge in it while he doesn’t remember to do so. His bicep is thick and strong under your fingers as you grip him gently, and he nods forward beyond the awning.

“It stopped raining. Let's get going.”

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