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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 months

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YOTP - March

Ah! I might be crawling on my hands and knees, but I shall give you the monthly OTP nevertheless.

I love you all very much, and I hope you can forgive me for being so absent (and absent-minded) lately. Life is getting a bit much for me...

Either way, have two grumpy singers!

Pairing: Daeron x Maglor

Prompts: Fresh starts, Road Trip, Getting back together/mutual pining, "make me", acceptance, fairy tale AU (of sorts)

Words: 2515

Warnings: Sadness, unprocessed grief, a kiss, Modern AU

“Princess,” Daeron singsonged, irony dripping like acid from his melodious voice. “Your carriage awaits!”

“Fuck off,” Maglor replied in an uncharacteristically gruff hiss and swept past the unfairly tall, light-haired nuisance with what he envisioned as regal equanimity.

Glaring at the small, frantically blinking light at the far end of the luxurious caravan, he wedged himself behind the steering wheel and suppressed a shivering sigh.

After millennia of resentful solitude, his boredom had finally gotten the better of him, and—dusting off his long-forgotten impish streak—the last surviving son of Fëanor had ultimately given in to the temptation of singing again.

The world around him had, of course, changed drastically, and so he had found himself in an endless, milling queue for what was generally known as a “casting show”. Oh! The indignity!

With the rise and fall of one-hit-wonders and the increasing popularity of self-produced clips on various platforms, the format was ailing, and he had felt strangely touched by the faded glory of a dying genre—the dramatic flair of bittersweet nostalgia had always appealed to him, after all.

Never could he have predicted the shock and amazement that had washed through him upon discovering a familiar face amongst the sea of strangers, all of them impatiently waiting to get their fleeting moment in the sun.

Daeron of Doriath had grinned wistfully. “Alive, yeah?”

Even now, as his knuckles were white and tense around the cheap imitation of black leather, Maglor was overcome with helpless ire as he recalled that callous greeting.

His own heart had given a painful lurch, and his tongue had felt heavy and unwieldy in his dry mouth.

In truth, he resented Daeron for having had the readiness of mind to quip however feebly and half-heartedly when he had been struggling to even draw breath.

Evidently, Maglor had heard rumours about Daeron’s disappearance, and—while the world was in the throes of the Black Death—he had even attempted to do some discreet investigations, but he had never expected to behold that sharp-featured, unbearably impassive face in person again.

Once upon a time, they had shared a few torrid nights of illicit pleasure, and Maglor had always liked to think that they would have made for good long-term lovers, had things been different.

As history had played out, though, too many grievous deeds of treason and murder had ultimately fallen like unforgiving scythes between Daeron’s people and his own, and they had been torn apart before their fragile bond had ever truly knitted.

Many a time, Maglor—overcome with loneliness and longing—had assured himself that it had been for the best, despite the nagging sting of persistent doubt at the back of his mind.

“Do you ever think of the fairy tale ending we didn’t get?”

Maglor’s eyes widened as the sharp jerk of Daeron’s head made him realise that he had spoken these words aloud.

In his former life, he had been known to love causing a stir, but he now resented himself for having betrayed his own resolution not to give the vultures of the TV show any material they could cut and mangle into some melodramatic narrative of mutual pining and inevitable heartbreak.

As was to be expected of two musical heroes of another time, Daeron and he had passed the initial try-outs with flying colours, and the producer—who seemed more interested in a marketable storyline than in actual skill—had promptly decided that they were to share a camping car to a yet undisclosed location where the first “challenge” would be held.

Having performed in desolate war camps and in front of highly spoiled, complacent audiences alike, Maglor was fundamentally unafraid of the potential discontentment of a few blatantly unarmed mortals which, quite naturally, only contributed to his popularity with the viewers of the sensationalist show.

His frantically cheery demeanour, especially in juxtaposition with Daeron’s almost hostile aloofness, had thus immediately captured the hearts and minds of the faceless, nameless spectators behind innumerable screens all across the world.

Unfortunately, neither one of them, having always been reasonably popular, had had the good sense to refuse this arrangement, which meant that they were now perched together in a structurally unsound box of laughably thin metal that was hurtling down bumpy streets towards an undoubtedly underwhelming destination.

After a long moment of silently toying with the grotesque collection of porcelain dolls, plush toys, and ragdolls Maglor seemed to carry around like talismans or voodoo dolls, Daeron scoffed.

“Why, Káno, don’t write us off just yet. Returned from oblivion and obsolescence, here we are, competing once more,” he rasped. Maglor took his eyes off the road to witness the mocking twinkle in those enchantingly unfathomable eyes.

Oh, Daeron had always loved speaking in riddles, and nothing amused him more than to harp on the subtext of a situation until its thrumming strings screamed their protest.

Bowing his head in a poor imitation of gratitude, Maglor narrowed his eyes to flashing slivers of bared steel.

“Isn’t that how these tales go?” Daeron chortled. “The princess, singing mournful songs by the raging sea, and the lost knight finding her at the very last moment. I seem to remember a story of a daring prince who found his paramour—captured and detained by dragons and evil monsters—by singing to his lost love. Are you familiar with it?”

This time, Maglor gave an audible grunt. The naked pain vibrating in the sound made Daeron press his lips together as if he could recall the hasty, cruel words he had just unleashed.

“Forget I’ve said anything,” he hissed. “The years have not been kind to my mind.”

Again, Daeron tapped his fingertip against the pale cheek of an antique figurine of a flame-haired angel. “Nelyafinwë Maitimo,” he whispered as if to call one who could no longer hear neither curses nor praise.

With a choked sound of raw emotion, Maglor wrenched around the steering wheel dangerously. “I haven’t heard their names for so long, spoken by a voice that isn’t mine. Forgive me…”

“I have bought your paintings, by the way,*” Daeron confessed, drawn into the depthless pool of the other’s unexpected vulnerability as easily now as that first time they had met under a new moon. “It took me centuries to find them all, but they’re safe with me.”

“Sometimes,” he then disjointedly answered that involuntary question, hanging like a raincloud between them, in a sober, startlingly beautiful whisper. “At times, when the night is oppressive and starless, and the wind sings dirges of another era, yes, then I think of you and of all that might have been.”

Maglor had expected mockery and scalding disdain, but Daeron’s candid reply, drenched in blood and unshed tears, left him speechless as he stared sightlessly at the road unwinding like a drab, greyish ribbon before him.

For what felt like an eternity, they just sat in silence as the empty, barren landscape flew past them.

In their former life, there would have been loud, competitive singing, but they seemed to agree that whatever they shared was too fragile and precious to drag it out into the open under the dispassionate, greedy eye of a soulless camera.

“Maybe we should take a break,” Daeron said suddenly, almost making Maglor veer off the road again with shock as that old-familiar, powerful voice rattled him like a shockwave.

He nodded shakily—usually, he was better at observing and emulating the little weaknesses of the incarnates amongst which they were hiding, but his mind had been obsessively dissecting every minute detail of Daeron’s confession.

Indubitably, a mere human would need to stretch their legs and rest their eyes after hours of driving! Maglor resented himself for not having thought of it himself, and—never one to forego a challenge—he added cheerily that he could indeed do with a snack.

A tiny twitch passed over Daeron’s face—was it exasperated disbelief or earnest amusement?—but he, in turn, nodded as if he did not know that the blessed and cursed prince of the Ñoldor could have covered the distance their rickety caravan had just crossed without resting or eating. “Sure, we can go for a walk.”

They chuckled quietly in unison, remembering with heartbroken melancholy how mercilessly they had once been berated for their half-hearted dissembling and open petulance.

Again, they seemed to concur that they’d bear much worse than the tasteless, guileless prying of a ruthless producer if it meant that they could weather the devastatingly deserved displeasure of their lost loved ones once more.

Alas, they were alone in this world, and thus they could be as dishonest in their demeanour as they wanted.

The playful duplicity and leisurely prevarication that had once been a harmless affectation had seemingly turned into a dire necessity throughout the ages, though, and Daeron rubbed his thumb distractedly across the pendant—old, golden wood, engraved in a language few could read nowadays—as Maglor pulled into a near-empty parking lot.

They moved slowly and clumsily as they exited the parked trailer, masterfully emulating the signs of fatigue and stiffness they’d observed in friends and foes countless times.

“Do you really want to walk?” Maglor asked. Haven’t we walked enough? Even though that second, slightly bitter question never made it past his lips, Daeron could easily discern it between the lines.

“Yes—didn’t you say that you were hungry?” He looked famished, Daeron thought with a pang of agonising nostalgia and resentful pity.

He remembered the soft, full silhouette of Kanafinwë, blessed song of Fëanáro’s and Nerdanel’s love, and he shivered with dismay at the sight of the unbecomingly gaunt, hollow-cheeked creature stalking past him.

This fading shadow of a once glorious prince looked like something cut out of a cheap fashion magazine, paper-thin and oddly flat, which undoubtedly impressed foolish girls and shallow youngsters who, of course, had no way of knowing that Maglor had once possessed the kind of beauty neither song nor hefty tome might ever have captured or encompassed.

“Let me buy you a sandwich,” he said with a forced grin and elbowed Maglor in the ribs. “You look like you need it!”

“A soggy sandwich from a vending machine?” Maglor made a face. “I remember the amazing feasts you used to prepare for me. Do you?”

Clenching his teeth to keep the wailing dirge of lost love—bewept and interred so many ages ago—from bursting from his lips in a hailstorm of fire and blood, Daeron nodded tersely. “You called me ‘nightingale’ then, and you loved the bittersweet taste of the pale berries that only grew in our shadowy meadows,” he whispered. “I remember.”

A barking, unsteady laugh escaped Maglor. “They were like you—complex, acrid, and delicious. I—”

They had reached the edge of the bare, bleak cement desert and sat down under a gnarled, greyish tree that had lost all its colour and vitality in the constant haze of exhaust fumes and empty souls.

“Should I go check whether they have a fresh sandwich for you?” Daeron broke the silence that thrummed like a single chord vibrating endlessly between them. “You don’t look much like the lark I once loved anymore, but you still sound the same.”

Maglor’s head snapped up in a sharp jerk. He had not thought of that silly nickname in a literal eternity—at least as far as everyone around him was concerned—and hearing it spoken so tenderly pierced his heart.

“Lark,” he repeated slowly. “Because I was so loud and annoying.”

“Because you were the herald of dawn, of light, of hope!” Daeron contradicted gruffly.

“Who brought death and destruction, never you forget.” Averting his eyes from the shining hero of his unfinished fairy tale, Maglor felt a surge of that age-old despair and weariness crawling up his clogged throat.

“We did that quite well on our own.” Shrugging lopsidedly—a little too fast to fully hide the lingering echoes of unprocessed feelings of resentment and desire—Daeron gave a long-drawn, distinctly miserable sigh. “Either way, it’s done and over. Your kings and mine, the fair maidens we disappointed and deserted, the kin we betrayed…they’re all gone and won’t come back any time soon. Might as well eat that sandwich, what say you? I want you to eat something—I’ve always loved watching you eat!”

“Make me!” The right corner of Maglor’s mouth twitched, and just as Daeron decided that he’d accept this as consent and wanted to jog back to the small, rancid store they’d passed by on their way to the lonely tree, all the air was knocked out of his lungs.

“You said…you said I loved Doriath’s berries and…that you’d loved me,” Maglor whispered tremulously.

Maybe it was the rare quality of his voice or perhaps it was Daeron’s exceptional hearing, but these words seemed to swell into a deafening crescendo, underscored by the roaring of the blood in his temples and ears.

He had stupidly let this slip, hadn’t he?

“I admit that the past tense, no matter how deserved, wounds me,” the fallen prince admitted in a low, trembling voice.

“No—” Daeron took a deep, audible breath. “That was a long time ago, and many things have changed, haven’t they?”

Crestfallen, the other—still so beautiful underneath the tarnished patina of faded glory—nodded. “I guess all things must change. Nevertheless, your voice still makes my heart skip a beat, so I guess some precious fragments of our previous lives stay blessedly untouched by the ravages of war and the unrelenting destruction of time.”

Daeron could have said a million things—he wanted to object and argue—but, instead, he simply closed his cool palms around Maglor’s drawn face and pulled him in a soft, tender kiss.

As their eyes closed, lids fluttering wildly, they could almost feel the gentle, fragrant winds of a faraway verdant forest caress their clammy brow, and echoes of songs that had not been played in millennia filled the cool air.

That first kiss was as delicate as butterfly wings, but it shifted the world off its axis irrevocably, nevertheless.

“We’re no longer who we once were…and that might be for the better,” Daeron breathed against those sweet, poisonous lips. “But—as that greasy executive didn’t tire of pointing out—we each have a compellingly tragic backstory, fraught with mystery and misery, that only we know about. Let me recite the names of your brothers to you while we hold on to what is left of us.”

“Sandwiches and sad songs?” Maglor teased feebly. “How the mighty have fallen!”

“Whatever you want, princess. It’s just you and me, left stranded in this decrepit, dying world. At the edge of time, afloat in the everlasting darkness of self-imposed isolation, we remain.”

“Are you saying that it is time to go home? Together?” Reluctance and longing wrought a complex melody that echoed through their souls, reviving old grievances and immortal affection.

“Not yet, darling. Let’s give them a show…” Daeron whispered. “One last encore before the final curtain, what say you, my lark?”

* If you want the spin-off story of Daeron travelling around to find and purchase (steal, blackmail, and do crime in general) Maglor's paintings, let me know!

Thank you for bearing with me! Lots of love!

-> Masterlist

#og post #Fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #jrrt #Tolkien fanfiction #YOTP #yotp 2023 prompts #DaeMags #Daeron #Maglor #March #Fresh Starts #Road Trip #Fairy tale AU #Getting back together #Mutual pining #Make me #Acceptance

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kemendin · 11 months

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Absence Aching

I was toying with writing something like this for a while, and then I figured I’d wait to see if anything changed with 7.3. Aaaaand it didn’t. So here is some quite unpolished, 100% self-indulgent Caspian/Scourge angst/comfort, because dammit I miss him almost as much as Cas does.

The soft chime of the ship’s chronometer pulses through the Seeker’s cabin, pulling Caspian’s eyelids slowly apart.

He lies there for several moments, staring at nothing. Pale daylight is sneaking in through the cabin window, but his back is turned against it, his head still tucked away towards the bed. Most of the room is dim around him, save for the golden glow of the panels that border the floor, now welling to life at the chrono’s call.

Cas makes a nudging gesture with the hand that rests beside his pillow - a motion far too heavy for fingers that are only pushing at empty air.

The lights switch themselves off again.

He blinks once, without energy. He wants to burrow his face into the pillow, wants to sink away into the heavy shroud of sleep, where at least if he’s stalked by spectres of helplessness and loneliness and grief, he knows they won’t be real.

But he can’t return to someplace he hasn’t truly been. He’s passed hour after endless hour somewhere on the edge of sleep, hovering, unable to succumb, and now as he tries to close his eyes again the lids are thick and scratchy with the crust of his failure.

He expels a wavering breath into the shadows around him. He doesn’t want to get up and face another day of being the Commander, the Hero, the Knight. The Sith Empire is scheming, the Mandalorians are tearing a fresh wound into the galaxy, and though Darth Malgus remains imprisoned, his chains seem to be as tight around his jailors as himself, offering little in the way of answers for his crimes.

Yet Cas knows he could face it all, every burden, every threat - if only he weren’t facing it alone.

He isn’t alone, of course. He has friends as close as family, allies unwavering, thousands under his command.

But the entire Alliance still can’t offset the weight of the hollow he now feels at his back. The empty place beside him where Scourge should be.

Cas curls into a tighter ball beneath the blankets, cringing away from how cold he feels without the Sith’s warm bulk in his bed. It’s been months since Scourge left, disappearing into the vastness of the galaxy to follow a promising clue towards Malgus’ true plans, leaving Cas with only a cryptic note and the fervent promise to let nothing stand between them again. Cas knows every word of it by now, and the sentences prowl constantly through his brain, weaving burning trails both bright with comfort and searing him with despair.

Until I return, know that I detest being apart from you. Know that being without your company brings me nothing but torment.

As long as there is a threat to you, to us, I will stop it. I will allow nothing to destroy what we have, what I have waited so long for.

But days with no further word from Scourge have turned to weeks, and weeks of silence have become months, and now a part of Cas is dreading the idea that he might once again be forced to endure years without knowing what’s happened to his partner. His love.

He reaches up with wan fingers, finding where the narrow Sith ornament hangs in his hair. He traces the markings worn into the metal as tears threaten to shiver beneath his half-closed eyelids.

“You promised,” he whispers to the emptiness. “You promised you would be here with me, through everything.”

The chrono chimes again, beckoning him gently back to life.

Cas pulls in a long, aching breath, grinds the heel of his hand across his eyes, and drags himself up.

The day passes in a fog. He feels more like a puppet than a person as he goes through the motions - pantomiming the role of Alliance Commander as the galaxy itself tugs at his strings. Little has changed, and for once Cas is grateful that there’s no news, no progress, nothing he has to deal with, because while some days are better than others this isn’t one of them. The best that can be said is that he tries, genuinely and with as much effort as he can muster; even when stumbling under despair he’s never been one to lie down and give up for long.

He lets himself be seen around the Odessen base. Checks in with the Alliance advisors, skims a few more pressing reports; meets with Lana and Theron and does his best to avoid the looks of concern they keep throwing in his direction in the hopes of catching his gaze. He hears their low murmurings at his back as they finish the day’s business and he quickly turns to leave.

“He can’t go on like this,” is Lana’s frank if muttered opinion, and she makes a motion to go after the Commander; but Theron stops her with a firm hand on her arm as she leans forward, and says quietly, “No. Let him be.”

Kira is waiting for Cas outside, in the glade where the Seeker rests. She knows he’s been spending his nights here on the ship, where he can get away from Commander and pretend, for a little while, that it’s just their small crew again. Just two young Jedi and a droid, in the days when the Emperor’s Wrath was merely a passing name on their lips, not a physical being whose presence would become indelibly carved upon their own.

She bears a small container of food in her hands and an expression of anxiety on her face. Despite several careful attempts, she soon realises he’s in no mood for conversation; and so they simply sit in the grass together as Cas dully forces himself to eat what she’s brought him, and the silence is only nudged away by her occasional assurances that Scourge will come back. That nothing means more to him than Cas, and nothing can stand in his way.

And Cas believes her. He knows she’s right. He knows the power of Scourge’s convictions, the depths of his devotion to his Jedi partner.

But for once, this is no comfort to him. For once, such reasoning and logic cannot solve his problems or ease his mind. Because the cold facts remain - Scourge is gone, and Cas has no idea where the Sith is, or when he will return, or even if he’s still alive.

“Have you gotten any sleep?” Kira asks him, as he swallows the last bite of food and listlessly pushes to his feet again. He shakes his head.

“Not much,” he murmurs, his eyelids already feeling heavier under his need for it.

Kira also rises, hesitates, then reaches into a pocket. “Here,” she says, and holds out a tiny foil packet. “I know you can’t really deal with needles, so I asked Doctor Oggurobb to whip up something more edible in his lab for you. Should help.” Another pause, and then she adds gently, “I think you could really use it, Cas.”

He’s never been one for medications, stims, drugs of any kind - but even he has to concede that he’s nearing desperation, and so he takes the offering with a grateful nod and a brief, unsuccessful smile, and then wordlessly trudges back to the ship.

Dusk has yet to stretch its grasp across this part of Odessen, yet Cas returns immediately to his cabin. He undresses enough to be comfortable, swallows back the sleeping pill, dims the lights; and then he crawls into his cold, too-empty bed and lies there, despondent, beneath the weight of one of Scourge’s dark and heavy robes that he pulls around him like a shroud.

This, he knows, is part of why Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments. Relationships. Because when someone whose soul is so entangled with your own is torn away, you are torn with them.

But he doesn’t care (and he cares too much). It’s been a long time since he was really a Jedi, at least in the way that they wanted him to be. It’s far, far too late for him to change this now.

He closes his aching eyes, and presses his face into the thick fabric of his partner’s robe, and mercifully, before he knows it, he is asleep.

The night is deep when he stirs again, roused by the sense of light movement not his own. His mind feels groggy, his body still held in the torpid grasp of induced slumber. For a few uncertain moments, he wonders if he imagined it - whatever it is that’s nudged him back to consciousness.

But then a significant weight indents the bed beside him, and a heavy, familiar arm slips around his middle, and Cas sucks in a loud breath of realisation.

“Scourge -” he chokes out, his voice taut with shock. Immediately he twists his head around, one hand feeling clumsily for the sharp-edged face that pushes across his shoulder.

“I’m here, Jedi,” whispers Scourge. He sounds tired, so tired; he lets out a long, ponderous breath and pulls Cas closer to him, his fingers pinching gently into the Jedi’s shirt.

Cas quickly rolls onto his back with the movement, clutching at the other man with the fervour of his loneliness even as it’s easing away. Tears of relief flood his eyes.

“Scourge,” he whines breathlessly again, and he strains his head up to scatter frantic, feverish kisses on every part of the Sith’s face he can reach. “Stars, Scourge, you’re here, you’re really here -”

Scourge’s arm tightens around him in response, and he drags his lips once across the Jedi’s palm. “Yes. I’m here,” he murmurs again, wearily.

He shifts a little against Cas, an unusually ginger movement. Cas draws back slightly, and stretches out his senses, and a moment later inhales sharply again.

“You’re hurt -”

He shuffles onto his side to face Scourge and reaches for him again, extracting both hands this time and moulding them around the Sith’s shadowed face. His fingertips quickly find a half-healed gash near Scourge’s temple, and he can feel other flares of pain through his partner’s body.

“Where’ve you been, what happened?” he breathes, desperate for answers, but Scourge only reaches up to gently pull the Jedi’s hand from the wound and move it to his lips instead.

“Not now, Caspian,” he requests, his voice threaded with exhaustion. He leans forward to rest his brow lightly upon the Jedi’s own. “Tomorrow, we can speak of these things. For now - I simply wish to hold you.”

Cas himself is still too tired and too overwhelmed with relief to argue. So he pushes more tightly against the Sith, hooking a leg over the other’s knee, tucking his arms against Scourge’s chest, getting as close as he possibly can so that he can soak in his partner’s soothing warmth as strong arms fold around him.

“I’m so glad you’re safe, Scourge,” Cas pushes out raggedly, and now it’s his own fingers which are digging into Scourge’s clothing. He burrows his face into the other man’s neck, and goes on, “I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea -“

“And I you, my heart,” Scourge returns lowly, his voice thickening for a moment. He nuzzles one side of his jaw slowly against Caspian’s hair. “I did not intend to be away for so long. I am sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Cas mumbles fervently - because while it’s not okay, exactly, he needs Scourge to know that he’s not angry with him over this. He never was. “Just - just don’t disappear like that again, alright? Please. Promise me.” He clings harder to the Sith, clenching his eyes shut against the threat of renewed tears. “I need you here. With me.”

He feels Scourge’s embrace tighten around him, as the Sith’s hoarse reply settles upon his ears and soothes his aching heart.

“I promise you, Caspian - I will be here. I will not leave you again.”

Cas nods gratefully. At last he can feel the tight knot inside him unravelling, and he exhales the breath he seems to have been holding since the Sith’s abrupt departure.

After a moment he lifts his head again, trying to make out Scourge’s features in the darkness of the cabin.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks quietly. He’s not usually one to question Scourge over such things, he trusts the Sith’s judgement of his own limits; but after living with near-constant anxiety for months now, it’s disconcerting to suddenly no longer have that sort of worry gnawing at him.

“I’ll be fine, Jedi.” Scourge lowers his face towards Cas, and recognising the invitation, Cas quickly catches the Sith’s mouth with his own. They kiss softly for several long moments, slowly, without heat, but even when they draw apart it’s with only a sliver of space between their mouths, as they linger there and their warm breaths meld together in affirmation of their bond.

Comforted by Scourge’s presence, Cas blinks away the dry tears encrusting his eyes, and soon tucks his head against his partner’s shoulder again.

“You should sleep, love,” he murmurs, across the steady pulse in Scourge’s neck. “You’re exhausted.”

“Then you should stop prattling in my ear,” mutters Scourge, but there’s no rancour in the words, and Cas’ lips quirk wearily in reply.

Scourge has already shut his eyes as he adjusts his hold around the Jedi, and Cas relaxes against him, allowing the Sith to mould him into a more comfortable position against his chest. Within moments Cas’ heavy gaze closes as well, lulled by the fullness, the overwhelming rightness, of Scourge’s weight against him.

“I missed you,” he whispers again, into the no longer unbearable quiet of the ship. He hears a brief, deep hum from Scourge in reply, but it’s clear that the Sith is already drifting off, the tightness of his hold on Cas easing as he settles into slumber.

Cas works a hand out from between them and reaches up, tracing lightly over the angles of Scourge’s face with weary fingers, but the other man doesn’t stir beneath his touch. With a soft sigh, Cas lets his hand come to rest upon the Sith’s ridged cheek; and there it stays until he, too, is once more claimed by sleep.

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #swtor fanfic #swtor jedi knight #lord scourge #star wars the old republic #swtor:caspian #kem oc #kem writes #kem fics #ANGST ANGST ANGST HAD TO GET MY FEELINGS OUT #i need to finish making this scourge plushie so i can hug him

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kabootarandishaan · 5 months

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Moonlight

Oneshot/Series: Probably a one-shot

Pairing: Seimei x female oc

A/N: I just finished this shit on Netflix and this fox-child man is already all up in my dome. Also, this bouta be my first dabble at NSFW-esque content so be nice! Also, this was going to be a reader-insert but I couldn't stop playing this scenario so I made it using a specific name. However, feel free to just insert yourself. This started out as being a headcannon but welp! Also links are embedded for descriptions of some of the things mentioned.

Warnings: Heavy kissing and mentions of male genitalia, inexperienced (both you and Seimei). Minors DNI!

Like him you were alone, alienated due to your unique background. Although you were fully human, seeing as you belonged to a land far from this one the children had teased and tormented you. Your deeper skin, cultural garb, and accent made you easy to target. But like him, you also had a talent for divination. Where you were from it was referred to as the art of veda and focused on healing.

Despite your talent, your differences proved to make you undesirable to any teacher. You were forced to learn and teach yourself from the few scripts you had from your land. You had honed in your healing abilities, you knew even the best onmyoji was primitive to you in that area of skill. However, when it came to curses you knew you had much to learn.

That’s when you sought him out. You learned of his whereabouts from the Imperial Court. It seemed his infamous reputation has still plagued him despite his accomplishments. You remember meeting him once before you were cast out. You had stood up to some boys who had been tormenting him. You doubt he remembered you though, he stayed to himself even after the incident.

This is why when he greeted you using your name you could not help but widen your eyes in surprise. “It has been quite long since our last encounter, Sarikha-san. I must say, I am surprised you managed to find me. To what do I owe this visit?”

You explained to him your predicament in learning and understanding the world of curses. You requested his mentorship, practically begging. You offered to cook, clean, garden, anything in exchange for guidance in strengthening your craft. He eyed you with an amused look until you were completely finished.

To your surprise, he accepted and you found yourself looking forward to your lessons every day. It was not long till you got to take part in action. There was never a dull moment the minute Seimei became acquainted with Minamoto Hiromasa. Soon you also learned to enjoy the company of Tsuyuko, her youth and passion was endearing to you.

You knew Seimei would probably never admit it but you could see how at ease he felt in the presence of these people. You knew better than anyone that for people like you and him, loneliness was more out of helplessness than intention. You could not help but be drawn to him. It was not soon until you suspected he may have felt the same towards you.

You remained steadfast on your promise, you would cook, and clean, and Tsuyuko would often help you with gardening. You noticed as time went on how his gaze would linger on your form. You would notice the slight furrow in his brows whenever Hiromasa or Tsuyuko would tease you about having no lovers despite your beauty and personable nature.

The slight flush of his cheeks when he’d catch the smallest glimpse of your waist because your kurti had ridden up. You noticed but you said not a word. You could not help but feel similar sensations when you’d seen his uniquely colored hair for the brief moments he would take off his kanmuri.

Tonight you stood near his lake, admiring the beautiful illumination the moon had cast on your landscaping work surrounding it. You enjoyed the serenity of the moment, you pulled away the chunni that you regularly draped over your head and untied your dark hair. The long waves cascade down to the base of your back.

A soft gasp behind you startled you. You turned to find Seimei looking at you, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. You quickly grabbed your chunni trying to place it over your head for modesty. He reached out his hand in front of him as if signaling you to stop and speak. “I apologize for startling you, but please do not feel the need to cover your hair. I will leave you if you wish to have privacy.”

Your hand pauses as you furrow your brows, attempting to read him. The soft light of the moon allowed you to see the blush that had contrasted against his pale skin. You slowly dropped the chunni to the side and walked closer to him. You saw his breathing hitch, and it caused a small smile to reach your lips.

”Did you need me for something?” You asked him curiously the smile still plastered on your face. You saw him swallow nervously before composing himself and adorning his usual smug expression. He nodded and spoke, “I have something I would like to ask of you.” Despite his look, you could hear the nervousness in his voice.

You nodded and signaled for him to continue. He took a sharp inhale before continuing, “I cannot lie to you and say I have not become enamored by your presence. I am sure you also have not failed to notice?” He asked eyeing you intently as he waited for your response. You felt a blush rise to your own cheeks at his directness.

You cleared your throat before answering. “I suppose I have been quite obvious in my fancy for you.” You chuckle nervously as you look down at your hands. “I must say though, your confession does fill me with relief. I was beginning to think your lingering glances could have been of contempt.” You say slowly meeting his eyes.

He lets out a small huff as if annoyed by your words. “Please do not ever think I could hold any contempt for you. You were the only person in my defense when we were children I always admired your courage and perseverance. I cannot imagine how hard it was for you to defend me when you were also being endlessly tormented

You were surprised by his words. Not only did he remember your first interaction but he remembered you, with such fondness as well. You whispered your next words. “I did what I thought was right. No child deserves to be treated that way.” You felt a small blush arise on your cheeks at hearing his kind words.

”You have always had a kind heart. I can say with pride I have not met someone as gently and gracious yet so powerful.” He smiles at you softly. You cannot help but feel your heart quicken at his expression. You bite your lips and look down at your hands which wring together with slight nervousness at the situation. You fail to notice a strand of hair fall forward as you bring your eyes back up.

As if to test the boundaries of their newly established interest Seimei hesitantly reaches his hand forward he points towards the loose strand before speaking. “May I?” He eyes you with a visible anxiousness. You cannot help but smile at his hesitance. You nod slowly and hold your breath as he gently pulls the strand behind your ear. His hand grazes your cheek as he pulls back.

You cannot stop yourself from letting out a soft gasp at the foreign touch. He freezes and his eyes go wide at hearing your sound. You slowly move closer so much so that you can now see the hard thump of his heartbeat against his jugular. You stare between his lips and his eyes. He does the same the unspoken desire strongly settling between you two.

Your face is burning, the proximity, his touch, all of this intimacy is new to you and you are sure it is the same for him. However, you do not want to pull back, you cannot. You want to go further. You need to do something to dissipate this almost uncomfortable tension within your body. You feel his hand settle onto your cheek. His thumb grazes your bottom lip.

You sigh and close your eyes enjoying the new touch. You open your eyes slowly, raise your hand and place it on his chest. You can feel how harshly his heart is beating against the fabric of his sokutai. You feel him tense, briefly, before slowly feeling him relax. You look up at him seeing his mouth slightly agape, his eyes seemingly darker.

You place your free hand against his cheek and stare at his lips. “May I?” You ask in a soft whisper. You see the flush on his cheeks deepen before you see him nod. You lean in and feel the tension that had so tediously built itself up, dissipate. You feel Seimei’s other hand tentatively place itself at your waste. You push your lips against him slightly deeper as a way to signal your approval of his action. He quickly registers the action and grips your waste before matching your passion.

You both push against one another in a dance of passion. You feel his teeth graze against your lower lip and gasp at the new sensation. He smirks and takes the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue. You let out a muddled yelp at the intrusion the lewdness of the act making your body burn with unfamiliar sensations.

He takes his time slowly running his tongue over yours. He groans at the sensation, the softness. You slowly feel a familiar tension begin to build within your body. Only this time the discomfort begins to lower. You furrow your brows at the unfamiliar sensation but notice that each time Seimei squeezes your waste, or his tongue prods at your own, the sensation heightens.

You press your thighs together finding it gives slight relief. As the feeling increases you cannot help but release a moan at the new sensations bombarding your senses. Seimei pulls back begrudgingly but helplessly as you both gasp for air. He looks over your face in admiration. Your lips are red and swollen, a string of saliva connecting yours to his. Your face is flushed and your eyes are dark. You are a sight for sore eyes.

However, your look also ignites a soreness elsewhere for him. He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against yours as he pants. He groans slightly as he can feel his cock straining against his bottom garb. He looks at you with a ferocity that causes that pleasant feeling to shoot right down to your nethers, you to whimper slightly.

You are both startled when you hear the booming voice of Hiromasa from within the courtyard. You aggressively push him away, causing yourself to stumble back. He reaches out and catches your arm, saving you from falling into the lake. You both turn when you see Hiromasa freeze at the sight before him.

You hear Seimei clear his throat and take a moment to stabilize yourself and stand upright on your own. You place your chunni on your head and greet Hiromasa with a small bow. You look down hoping the dim light of the night will hide the flustered state of you and Seimei. Hiromasa eyes the both of you curiously but Seimei speaks taking his attention elsewhere.

”As much as I adore your presence, what do I owe this evening visit?” His smug demeanor returned so easily. It seems Hiromasa’s attention was easily diverted as his eyes lit up at the question. “Well, I had told you I would return bearing better gifts, and because I am a man of my word I did just that.” He reveals the sake he had brought from his sleeve.

Seimei rolls his eyes but you can see the small smile adorned on his face. “I suppose I will indulge you. Make your way to the deck and I shall join you shortly I will drop Sarikha-san to her chambers first.

Hiromasa narrows his eyes, glancing between the two of you suspiciously, but quickly seems to be subdued by Mitsuyo and Mitsumushi guides him away. You chuckle as the two hurriedly drag him away. Your attention is caught at the sound of Seimei softly clearing his throat. He motions for you to begin walking and you smile as he follows at your side.

Seeing as Seimei’s residence was so expansive and you had nowhere to go you were able to receive a room. He waved off the very notion of rent when he saw your diligence in learning and your completion of various chores. The two of you walked in silence, the heat that had so uncomfortably plagued you earlier had not yet subsided but you did not know what to do.

It seemed Seimei’s predicament was similar as he still felt the harsh strain of his cock against his garments. The brush of the cloth against it as he walked caused him to clench his jaw, the friction stimulating him. You looked at him in slight concern, unaware that his plight was caused for the same reason as yours.

Are you alright?” You asked innocently your brows furrowed. He tries to relax his jaw and gives you a smile. “Never have I felt such bliss than this instance.” You blush at his words and continue walking until he reaches your chamber door. He slides the door and stands to the side allowing you to enter.

You hesitantly make your way inside. You turn to face him and look up at him. “This night was very memorable for me.” You say softly. He chuckles and meets your gaze. “As it was for me, if I may admit I always imagined that you were the one to steal my first kiss.” Your breath hitches at his words and your cheeks burn once more.

”Well that makes two of us.” You admit as you bite your lips. “I wish you a good night. Do not drink recklessly.” You advise him. He chuckles but nods heading your advice. “Goodnight Sarikha-san.” Before he turns to leave you place a hand on his arm and before he has the chance to speak you place a chaste kiss on his cheek. You abruptly slide the door shut leaving Seimei standing there mouth agape.

You lean your back against the door and cover your hands with your face. You cannot hold back the girlish smile that adorns itself on your face. You lay down on your cot and put out the lamp lighting your room. You cannot help but repeat the events of tonight, as you recall the feeling of his lips, his tongue, his touch, and the foreign sensations from between your legs returns.

Seimei stands before your chamber door briefly frozen. His cock twitches against the fabric of his garments as he recalls the feeling of your lips on his cheek. It is not until Mitsuyo and Mitsumushi appear in his peripheral that he recalls his rendezvous with Hiromasa. He groans knowing that his arousal will cause trouble for him the rest of the night.

He begrudgingly returns to his deck and rolls his eyes at seeing Hiromasa already having started indulging in the sake. “There you are!” He exclaims tipsily. Seimei sits and begins his own drink before letting out a sigh. “If you cannot hold your sake-” He turns to find Hiromasa’s head lolled off to the side as he lets out small snores.

Seimei cannot help but chuckle at his state. He directs the two girls to aid Hiromasa home. He slowly begins to make his way to his own chambers feeling tired from the alcohol. He scowls slightly. “If he was just going to fall asleep after one round he could have come in the morning instead of interrupting my time with Sarikha-san.”

He sighed as he felt a similar twitch from before strain against his bottoms. He quickly made his way to his own chamber ridding himself of his clothes and falling flatly onto his bed. He tossed and turned as thoughts of Sarikha continued to consume his mind and body the feeling of her lips, her tongue, her waste. He groaned as the arousal grew within him. This was going to be a long night, he thought.

#netflix onmyoji #onmyoji series #abe no seimei #minamoto no hiromasa #princess tsuyuko #abe no seimei x female reader #abe no seimei x female oc #onmyoji fanfic #onmyoji fanfiction #abe no seimei x poc!reader #abe no seimei x poc!female reader #abe no seimei smut #onmyoji netflix #onmyoji #onmyoji 2023

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 9 months

Text

A little feels good (a little more and it's lethal)

Resentful energy does corrupt Wei Wuxian - just not in the way everybody thinks it does.

Warnings: addiction and substance abuse, dark and heavy

Title is from this song, which inspired the whole thing.

It's like an itch under his skin, a constant buzz in the back of his head, a ghostly whisper of temptation in his ears. It twists in his stomach, vibrates deep inside his bones, makes his muscles tight with tension and his eyes bloodshot.

He's angry, irritable. Everything sets him off, the world is too loud, too demanding, too much of what he wants to be away from and too little of what he needs.

He needs -

No.

He doesn't need it. He can control it. He can control himself. He can stop, he can go a day without it, he can, he can, he can-

Dark wisps of smoke curl around his ankles, slide up his body, the feeling disgusting and comforting all the same. Soft. Euphoric. He breathes in relief, in pleasure.

Wei Wuxian's eyes glow red as he feels it, the rush of resentment into his empty meridians, the way it fills him where he should have already been full, the illusion of being whole again.

His body feels weightless, his countless aches muted into nothingness as resentful energy takes over him nearly enough to send him out of his body.

To kill him.

The thought used to frighten him, now he likes it. He delights in it, in the dissociation, in the floaty, distant connection between himself and the world.

It feels like ascension, almost - but the corrupted, dark, twisted version of it, a descent into hell, into damnation.

His body goes lax, heavy with illusory comfort. He doesn't see, or hear, or feel anything anymore - neither the hunger that nips at his stomach so badly he's starting spitting blood, nor the sharp pain of untreated fractures, the pounding headaches, the infected wounds all over his skin, the throbbing pain of his surgery scar.

He doesn't feel any of the anguish, the regret, the ache and loneliness, the grief for the glorious life he's willingly traded, the helplessness, the trauma, the self hatred.

He's numb to it all, inside and out, and it's - orgasmic, almost. The delusion is intoxicating, like the touch of a passionate lover that Wei Wuxian never truly got to know. Wanting, insatiable, hungry, touching him, holding him, claiming him.

It's too much and not enough all the same. His eyes roll back and the world goes pleasantly dark as he's surrounded by whispers he can't make out and a feeling that electrifies him in the only way that makes him still feel alive. Human.

Adrenaline rushes through him as if a dam broke, and the feeling sends shivers down his spine as he laughs through it, eyes prickling with tears. Of shame, of excitement.

He has to stop, he has to stop, if he lets it go any further there's no point turning back.

But it feels so good, so weightless, so light, so alive, so gone-

His back arches off the cold floor of the cave as if his ribs struggle to break through skin and Wei Wuxian distantly wonders if that's possible, if the way his spine is bent right now should hurt.

But it doesn't, nothing does. He's free, and he's alive, and he's dead, laughter bubbling madly out of him at the feeling.

He's in love. Obsessive, unhealthy, intoxicating, co-dependent.

There isn't enough air and he can't breathe, but it doesn't matter - it doesn't matter as long as he doesn't have to face his reality anymore, as long as nothing can reach him.

He can't think, he can't focus, his mind foggy and scattered, lost. He wants it like this forever.

He feels himself slip away before he's able to stop.

It's not like he's tried too hard anyway.

---

Wen Qing finds him - it's always her that does.

He's passed out, clothes haphazard on his body, blood trickling down his eyes, nose and mouth in thin rivulets. Bruises all over, veins swollen dark.

It's been happening more and more often.

She wonders how much longer it will be before she finds him dead - fully dead.

It's like he's traded an addiction for another, alcohol for... this, whatever it is. Wen Qing doesn't know, can't explain it to herself or others.

But every time she's treating him out of it, it takes him longer and longer to come out of it.

And when she has to gently purge all that resentment out of him, when he's awake but not conscious, he keeps begging her to kill him so he doesn't have to feel the pain anymore.

She knows it's not the pain of the procedure.

They never talk about it after.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #writing attempts #wwx

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zoeysdamn · 1 year

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Terrible thing - Part.4 | Morpheus x reader x Hob

[Part.3]

Unfortunately, Hob’s happiness didn’t last long. The first two decades had been filled with joy and delight, and you had been here to witness some of it. You had dropped by to the Gadling’s home few times over their years of marriage, quite more often than you usually did. You liked Eleaonor’s company, and were always delighted to hang out with Hob. Their joy culminated at the highest point when they welcomed their son Robyn into the world. When they had asked you if you wanted to hold him when you visited them a few months later, you almost broke into tears as you held the small infant in your arms. After that, you had only returned once in a while. Because even if you enjoyed their company, you had realized that you needed to let them grow together as a family. Plus, the fact that you didn’t age would end up to raise suspicions. So you cut short your visits, and less than a decade later Eleanor passed away. The news of her passing didn’t reach you right away but soon enough to find Hob still deep in grief. When you knocked on the large house’s door and one of the maids recognized you, you knew by the sad look on her face that your visit might yet be too soon. She led you to her master’s room, where dark curtains were still blinding the windows as a sign of grievance. The limp figure of Hob was slouched in one of the chairs, facing away from anyone who could be entering the room. But even with the half lighted room and the way his head was hanging low, you could see how deep the dark circles went under Hob’s eyes, or the broken look in his eyes.

“Oh Hob” you whispered as your heart clenched at this sight.

If he heard you, he didn’t show any sign of it. You approached him carefully and went to kneel next to his chair. After a second of hesitation you slowly put your hand on his in a comforting gesture. His hand barely twitched at your touch.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Hob” you breathed out in a tight voice. “If there is any way of which I can be of support, know that I’m here”

The cold and heavy silence that answered you made the lump in your throat ever more tight, bringing tears in the corner of your eyes. Then Hob’s lips started to move, trembling and barely escaping a sound.

“What could you possibly do for me?...”

His whispered words broke your heart even more. You had never felt so helpless to one’s overwhelming grief, not even your own when Morpheus had broken your heart. Unsure of what to do, you still lay your other hand on Hob’s shoulder, and this time he looked up to you. You had never witnessed such pain and distress in his usual cheerful eyes. They had used to be so full of life and warmth, but now all that was left was an endless pit of despair. He looked at you for long seconds, where his agard gaze seemed to be unable to register anything. And suddenly the tears that had long dried out rolled on his cheeks once again.

“She’s gone…she’s really gone (Y/N)” he whimpered in a broken sob and you could only hug him tightly in return.

As Hob sobbed in your shoulder and gripped onto your arm you tried to soothe him the best you could, and to ignore the way your heart bled along his. Eleanor had been what you could call a friend, and seeing a man you loved in such a broken state put you into a sadness like you had never known before. The both of you stayed like this for a long time, as much as Hob needed. You let him cry the hardest he could, not bothering if someone heard him. He had tried so hard to keep a strong posture for the sake of appearances and for his son. But there, as you hugged him, he could allow himself to embrace fully the grief that had been eating him from the inside since Eleanor’s death. After long and painfully needed minutes, Hob slightly tugged himself out of your embrace. You half-heartedly let him go, but kept one of your hands on his shoulders, not yet ready to make him go back again to his loneliness. And by the way he cradled your hand in his, you knew he was silently grateful for that.

“Do you want to talk about this?” you asked softly, to which Hob answered by shaking his head.

“No…I’m…I can’t face the past now it’s…it’s too soon”

You nodded silently, secretly understanding him very well.

“I don’t know if I can go on without her” he whimpered weakly.

“You can” you soothed in a soft voice, “You’re not alone in this Hob. Think of your son, of your friends, we’re all here to help you go through this, no matter how painful it feels right now”

Hob sniffled loudly and with some relief, you noticed the tiniest spark of light igniting in his eyes at the mention of his son. It immediately became clouded with unbearable sadness and self-conscious grief.

“Robyn isn’t even 8 and he had already lost his mom…god what kind of father am I?” he sobbed, burying his face in his hands.

You gently took his hands in yours to softly make him look at you again, through his teary gaze, “The kind who tries his best” you reassured him. “No one is prepared to face a loved one’s passing, no matter how long they have lived”

He held your gaze with pleading eyes.

“Will it ever get any better with time?...”

With a sad smile you shook your head in defeat.

“No, I’m afraid not”

Your words didn’t ease his aching heart. But at least the ghost of the tiniest smile lingered on his lips for less than a second to your honesty. You may not be able to soothe his pain, but at least you warned him; and you were there for him.

“I need to take care of my family” he muttered in a resigned tone. “Robyn needs me, I…I can’t let him down now that she’s…now that there’s only us left”

You nodded with an encouraging smile, quite surprised by the fast resignation and the courage that had been needed to pull it. You were proud of Hob; and even if you knew he was going to face several more difficult years, the knowledge that he wasn’t alone in this made you hopeful. As he tried to stand up from his chair you stopped him with a grounding hand on his shoulder. Looking at you in surprise, Hob’s eyes gave you a questioning look.

“Take the time you need to grieve for her. Make peace with your memories together, then you will be able to help your son facing the loss of his mother, and go forwards together”

He gulped, “What if I can’t forget about this pain?”

“No one expects you to,” you said with a sad smile, “It just doesn’t have to consume you. The love you have for your son can avert that”

He let out a sad chuckle “I wonder what you have been through to be this wise, (Y/N)”

You smiled at him and took a few steps back, letting go of his shoulder and taking a look at his general figure. He was still slouched on a chair and his shoulders slumped, but you knew he was resigned to try to overcome his grief. He would struggle, but you had faith in him.

“I’ll come back soon” you promised as you took his hand in yours once again. “If you’ll let me, I’ll come to check on you both more often so you won’t be alone in this”

He smiled softly at you “I’d like that”

You couldn’t help but smile again. With one last nod of your head, you started to walk away, slowly letting go of his hand. But as you turned back, you felt him grasp your wrist once more. Intrigued, you turned your head in his direction.

“Actually…” he said slowly, “I have a favor to ask you”

“Of course” you said, “Ask away”

The fact that he refused to face you made you frown. With careful steps, you approached him so you stood next to his chair. Even with you this close to him, Hob didn’t meet your gaze, turning away his face like he was afraid to tell you something.

“What is it?” you pressed gently.

“I…I don’t think it would be wise for you to come to see me for some time”

You frowned, not understanding what he meant, “What do you mean?”

Hob took a deep breath before channeling the courage to slowly turn his head, and look at you with sorry eyes.

“I think it’d be best for me if you don’t come to visit me for a long time”

Tears welled up in your eyes and you felt yourself becoming light-headed at his words, like a punch in the gut. Hob was asking you to not see him while all you wanted was simply to help him. It felt like the day where Morpheus had admitted his cheating to you was playing over and over again. A man you loved had stabbed you in the gut, and you stood there helpless as pieces of your heart crumbled at your feet.

“Why?...” you breathed out in a trembling voice.

The half-hearted smile Hob gave you felt like the last straw.

“Because you remind me of Eleanor too much…and I don’t know if I can handle this for the time being”

“Why?” you asked again, not getting where this was coming from.

He gave your hand a soft squeeze.

“Because I love you both, that is why”

The sob you choke on was the only thing that reminded you that what he had said had been real. Your heart should have been fluttering by hearing this; yet it was only clenching even harder. The prospect that Hob loved you too couldn’t make you forget his words.

“Guess we’ll never find a good time for us, uh?” you whispered in a broken voice.

He shook his head. As he gently let go of your hand, you knew you couldn’t make him change his mind.

“Farewell Hob”

This wasn’t a goodbye; you knew you would see each other again, when Hob would be ready to. But it certainly sounded like it in your heart. What a tricky thing that love was.

Nearly a century passed as you went on without seeing Hob. During that time you went through your heartbreak by busying yourself with your duties as the Queen of the Dreaming, and thanks to the presence of Morpheus. For the first few years, your husband had felt your distress and had tried to get you to confide in him. Although it was a sweet gesture from him, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your heart had been broken by Hob Gadling. For you had noticed that Dream was actually quite fond of him, despite his better judgment. If he was never going to admit that they were friends, you knew how he would react if he knew that Hob caused your sadness in any way. And you didn’t want them to ruin their friendship over your poor little heart. Something convinced you that Dream’s meetings with Hob, even though rarer than yours used to be, were doing good to your husband. You loved them both with all you had, and you couldn’t bring yourself to be the cause of their splitting.

Morpheus had tried everything he could to make you feel better. Although he didn’t know the reason for your lingering sadness, he had been at your side every step of the process of feeling better, everytime you allowed him to. And you did let him more than once. The anger you had felt toward him was practically long gone, even if his faults were never going to be forgotten. You let him love you, and you let yourself feel and express all the love you had for him. In the same way you had advised Hob to go onwards, you tried to follow your advice on your own relationship with Dream. Nights where you slept in your own chambers became rarer and rarer, and at some point, you even felt like you had at last overcome your anger and found a new solid relationship with him. And you felt finally happy with Morpheus.

But the absence of Hob in your life was still tainting your heart in the most painful way. The more time passed knowing he didn’t wish to see you, the more you acknowledged your love for him.

The first time Morpheus actually talked about Hob with you was after their meeting in 1689.

“I have met Hob Gadling today” he said as you were both walking through the Dreaming, arms linked together.

“You meet every century, right?” you asked, interested by the prospect that Hob still kept his word to meet Morpheus even in his distressed state. The last time you had seen him had been 70 years ago.

Morpheus nodded, “Indeed. It is fascinating to see that he still wishes to live despite the great losses he had faced through this century”

“Losses?” you repeated, “What do you mean?”

“He had lost his wife and his son quite early” explained your husband, internally pleased that you shared his interest with his…acquaintance. “His fortune and social status didn’t make it either”

A lump grew in your throat at that news. You didn't know that Robyn had died. It was to be expected of course, but knowing that it had apparently happened way too soon in his life…poor Hob.

“I see…” you mumbled pensively. “Did you offer him some support on that matter?”

Morpheus frowned slightly at you, intrigued by your question.

“How so, my love?”

The familiar nickname brought a small smile on your face. It was only recently that you had made clear that you were alright with him using it again, and Dream sure knew when to use it to ease your heart.

“You had lost a son too” you reminded him softly.

His face darkened a little at Orpheus’ mention. But more than that, he shut his emotions down at the very first second of you bringing up the topic. Your relationship was almost steady. The both of you had sometimes an off time, because of small fights or mutual moody reactions, but it was overall solid. And through this reconstruction of this relationship, of course you had talked about Morpheus’ liaison with Calliope. But the subject of Orpheus was still taboo.

“Why would I have shared it with him?” he muttered in a tone lower than usual.

“Why wouldn't you?” you answered back immediately.

Morpheus’ irritation to your intrusive questions was palpable but you wouldn’t let this go. You had a point to make, that Morpheus had been wrong.

"Careful of what you're implying here (Y/N)" said Dream in an almost menacing tone to which you didn't even flinched, "I don't like the way you're questioning my actions"

"And what am I implying that upsets you so?" you asked, ignoring his dark tone that would have made you back down and apologize centuries ago. "That there was nothing wrong with you confiding in someone you trust? That you may have been able to admit you found a friend in Hob Gadling?"

"Watch your words here, my queen" he warned again. "You don't get to define a mere partnership I share with—"

"It's not just a partnership!" you interrupted him with an irritated tone this time, as you broke your arm free from his to stand in front of him. "For the love of the universe, you're meeting him every century to inquire about his well being, it is a relationship beyond a mere arrangement!"

The surprised look on Morpheus' face to your sudden outburst was an accurate indication of how quickly your exchange had turned out. He was usually calm and rather composed, and even you were surprised by your loss of control. But you knew how much those meetings meant to Hob, how their friendship mattered. Hearing Dream treating it so coldly and refusing to even admit they were friends angered you. This 1689 meeting had maybe been the only source of comfort to Hob in the last few years and your husband was being petty about the label of their relationship.

Your angry outburst seemed to have taken Dream aback but to have also eased his own anger, as he now bowed his head in humility.

"Apologies my love" he said in a much softer tone that helped you calm down a little. "I didn't realize you were this…invested in the meetings Hob and I have"

The mention of his name almost made you smile but you were still upset with your husband.

"Of course I care about them!" you snapped, then softened with a small fond smile, "You're always glad when the date comes around, it brings you joy"

He started to frown slightly, "I am not joyful at this prospect"

"Please," you said with a snort, "I am your wife, I know you. And you promised me that you would never lie to me again"

What you saw next honestly surprised you; Morpheus averted his gaze shyly and the tiniest of smiles tugged on his lips. For the briefest moment, you saw a look in his eyes that you knew too well. A soft, fond gaze, with lingering affection. Attachement. Feelings. Love. At this moment, you wondered to whom it was addressed to. Not being sure of the answer strangely didn't bother you. But that only took half a second then his usual cold yet lost gaze was back.

You sighed softly as you put a hand on his cheek.

"There is nothing wrong with admitting enjoying someone's company, my love" you said softly.

"I do not need friendship" he insisted, though in a less aggressive tone.

You sighed heavily; even if you were sure that there was more than that for Morpheus, you knew you wouldn't make him change his mind. Your husband might feel everyone's dreams, but you were the most empathic of the two. And you felt how much this put him on edge, no matter how hard you would try to talk about it.

"That's the problem with you Morpheus," you muttered, slowly letting go of his cheek. "You push everyone away rather than face your own feelings. Maybe that's why every relationship you have ends up as a disaster"

A look of hurt and shame flashed behind his eyes, but deep down he knew you were right. So when you turned away after one last small smile, he didn't try to stop you. It would take some time for the two of you to reconcile again, he knew as much as you did that the both of you would come back together again. But for now, the bitter truth was something he needed to process.

You, on the other hand, needed to plan your return in the Waking World. It was time for you to see Hob again.

Your information had led you to a hospice in downtown Nottingham. The place was filthy and full of death and dread, but at least it has a roof and a semblance of warmth. Still, your heart ached at the thought of Hob hiding himself here. He wasn't here to heal, he was here to rot and punish himself.

The sight of fortune beds full of pained and sick people in an utter degree of filth gave you nausea. In a hushed tone, you asked a nun who was carrying a platter full of bloodied bandages if she could help you. With a nod of her hands she mentioned one of the dim lighted corridors and you thanked her, silently making your way to it.

Among the dreadful looking rooms, you finally noticed a slumping figure that was painfully familiar. Half laying on the dirty floor, Hob looked empty of all life, even if the slow rising of his chest proved otherwise.

"Oh Hob" you sobbed as you knelt at his side, "What has life done to you?"

You saw his lips move slightly, trying to make up a word to utter, unsuccessfully.

"I'm going to get you out of here" you promised him, cradling his dirty cheek in your hand.

He tried to speak once again but only ended up making incoherent sounds and grumbles. You wondered how long he had been here to rot. Putting one of your arms under his, you tried to hoist him up in a standing position. Despite his blurry mind his body surprisingly responded automatically and followed your movement. With Hob slumping against your shoulder you slowly made your way to the inn you had rented a room to. The walk was clumsy, with him tripping every two steps but the both of you eventually made it to your destination. The innkeeper gave you a strange look but didn't make any comments as he saw your pair stumbling into his establishment at such a late hour of the night. Nor when you asked him to bring up a basin of warm water and clean clothes to your room.

You climbed the stairs at a slow pace and when you finally reached your room and opened its door with your foot, it seemed that Hob's mind had finally woken up.

"(Y/N)... You're here" he mumbled clumsily.

"Yeah I'm here Hob, don't worry" you tried to reassure him as you made him sit on a stool.

"Wh're are weh?" he stammered weakly, mind still fogged and unsure of his surroundings.

"We're at an inn, you're safe" you promised. "We're going to clean you up a bit, okay? Then you will take some rest"

He nodded, and with some of your help managed to get rid of the rag of a shirt he was wearing. Someone knocked at the door and you went to respond and retrieve the warm water basin you had asked for. The man also gave you a change of clothes and towels, for which you thanked him thoroughly before returning your attention to Hob. He seemed to slowly recompose his mind, but it was clear that he was still a bit lost. Setting the water and the supplies on a nearby table you knelt in front of him once again.

“There’s water, soap and clean clothes” you said softly to him, “Do you need help, or do you think you can do this alone?”

He shook his head slowly, “ ‘m fine. I’m just gonna do this slow”

You squeezed his hand as a sign of support and got up slowly.

“I’m going to leave you some privacy, but if you need help I’ll be downstairs for a while, okay?”

Hob nodded again and you started to make your way out of the room. You gave a last glance at him, seeing him move with slow but steady movements, and with reassurance you closed the door on your way out.

Two hours later, you came back. Rasping your knuckles against the wooden door, you knocked softly; no response. Opening the door slowly you entered the room without a noise. Hob was huddled on the bed, sound asleep. The sight lifted all worries of your shoulders; he was safe now. Settling yourself on a nearby chair next to the bed, you tried to set yourself in a somewhat comfortable position and closed your eyes. Tomorrow would be better and for now, you both needed a well-deserved sleep.

It was the warmth tickle of sun rays that woke you up the next morning. Your eyelids fluttered slowly as a soft light started to bathe the room in the early hours of the morning. For a moment, you wondered where you were, not recognising any of the furniture, before remembering the previous evening. Your gaze directed immediately to Hob’s still asleep form and your heart flooded in relief. Stretching a bit to chase the soreness of your muscles you got up off your chair and sat down on the bed next to him. With a look of fondness, you gently tucked a strand of hair out of his face. The soft contact elicited a sight from him, waking him up slowly. His half-lidded eyes seemed a bit lost at first but when he caught sight of your smiling face, his whole face lit up in relief.

“You’re still here” he rasped, not quite believing what he was seeing.

“I am” you smiled, “I wasn’t going to abandon you”

Hob’s eyes traced the outline of your face, like he was making sure it was truly you and not another of the desperate visions his mind created in his grief. One of his hands clumsily searched for your own and he wrapped his fingers around yours as he was afraid that you could vanish at any moment.

“You’re really here” he repeated with a smile and a tear in his warm brown eyes.

All you could do was to smile at his emotional reaction, caressing his hand with your thumb. He must have been alone for so long, it both saddened you and brought you relief to know that he wasn’t alone anymore.

“I’m so glad to see you” he sobbed with a smile, “I wasn’t sure that you wanted to see me again”

As his eyes filled with tears again you shushed him softly, dropping a kiss on his forehead.

“There’s nothing to torture yourself about” you assured with a gentle voice, “You were grieving, and you needed space. We all do sometimes”

You leaned back, looking at him with loving eyes.

“I could never give up on you, Hob”

He looked at you with the eyes of a man that was seeing the sun for the first time, star-stucked and hopelessly disarmed.

“I love you” he breathed out.

Despite the choked sob of surprise, you couldn’t help but smile at his words. This seemed so unreal, yet you knew it was true.

“I think I have loved you for a long time” he continued as his hand went up to caress your cheek. “I’m sorry it had took me so long to told you so”

You slightly shook your head, while leaning into his touch.

“Don’t apologize for this. I was glad to be your friend for all the time you would want, because you’re a good man Hob”

He smiled fondly at you.

“And I love you too” you added in the softest voice.

Despite his best behavior, Hob let out a nervous laugh in disbelief.

“You do?”

You nodded, bending closer to his face to bring your forehead against his, “I do” you whispered softly. “With all of my heart”

Hob let out a relieved chuckle, heart bursting with joy. He had felt so lost for so many years after Eleanor and Robyn’s deaths, so alone and angry. He had never wished to die, but the gaping hole in his heart turned his life into a never-ending painful sorrow. And in the middle of his constant plaguing whirlwind of dreadful thoughts, the eye of the hurricane was this quiet image of you. You, your smiles, your laughs and the light that radiated from it. You had always been what had been his lifeline, the one thought he could cling onto. And now you were here, very much real and in his arms.

Hob’s lips found yours in a soft, longing kiss that made your heart swell. The gentle caress of your lips against the other’s lingered with long craved affection and feelings that the both of you had always had, but never disclosed that way. You sighed as one of Hob’s hands cradled the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, to which you responded gladly, opening your mouth on his. He tasted like sun and coal, a rich and comforting essence you craved ever more at each passing second of your kissing. Your hands cradled his face, caressing the rough skin of his cheeks and the way your bodies pressed against the other in response made you feel light-headed. The thought of Morpheus should have been a warning, a blazing alarm in your mind screaming at you. But it felt right. Kissing Hob with all the love you felt for him felt right; pressing against him and moaning against each other’s mouths felt right. In fact, the thought of your husband only enhanced your willingness to dove further into this newfound intimacy; because it felt so different with Hob, yet so familiar. The both of them didn’t have to rival in your heart, for they held the same importance. You loved them, and at last you felt whole again. The moan Hob let out as your tongue swirled around his own reminded you of how much you had needed him, and you hurriedly got rid of your nightgown.

As you broke the kiss to pull the fabric over your head, Hob’s hand found their way on your naked tights, gaze glassy and lips swollen as well as erratic breathing. Although he couldn’t deny the mix of lust and adoration in his eyes slowly tracing your naked form, he couldn’t help but give you a slightly concerned look.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked gently, slowly drawing slow circles on your tights with his thumbs. “I don’t want you to feel pressured”

Your heart melted at his kind thoughtfulness and you reached down to caress his cheek with your hand.

“I’m sure” you said “I’ve never been more sure about something in my life”

He smiled at you and slightly rose up to kiss you again. Your hands immediately found their way on his neck and jaw, slowly responding to the kiss. Despite your sudden shedding of clothing, nothing was rushed. It was slow and passionate, kisses that made you moan and licks on his jaw that made him grip on your tights harder. Hob wasn’t opposed to taking his time with you, to make love to you slowly and caress every inch of you. But the way your soft body was pressed against him made his mind fuzzy with desire and he let go of one of his gripping hands on your side to fiddle with the lacing of his pants. Feeling his hand struggling under you, you slightly raised your hips, eliciting a moan from Hob at the sudden loss of contact against his hardening groin. You reached down to help him lower his pants, your other hand resting on his naked chest just above his beating heart. Once both naked, you gazed at each other's eyes for a moment, hands slowly mapping each other’s body with tender caresses.

Your mouth dove on his once again, and as you kissed him deeply you reached for his hard length, making him moan into your mouth. When you lined him with your wet entrance and slowly lowered yourself, it was your turn to let out a high-pitched moan.

“You’re alright?” asked Hob between ragged breaths in a concerned tone.

You nod, slowly regaining your breath as you didn't dare to move further.

“Yeah I- it’s been a while”

Hob offered a gentle smile and kissed the tip of your nose, your chin, cheekbones softly.

“It’s alright” he whispered in a comforting tone, “Take all the time you need, love”

You smiled softly at him, lightly nipping his jaw with small kisses. As you relaxed under his tender caress, you finally lowered yourself deeper and deeper, making him curse softly into a moan as you took him fully into you. His body responded on its own with a hard snap of his hips that made you gasp in a sinful sound that would dwell in Hob’s mind for a long time. With slow and firm movements you started to rock against him, moaning at every sensation. Hob gently gripped on your hips as he buried his face against your neck, trying to control his ragged breathing while thrusting his hips back to yours. Your slow and sloppy motions quickly turned into more pressing ones and you let out a wanton moan with your head thrown backwards, when you felt him graze against your most sensitive spot. The tight clench of your pussy made Hob fall on his back once again, a hot white light exploding behind his eyelids.

“Fuck” he panted “Don’t stop love”

You grounded yourself with both hands on his chest, grinding harder on him with every thrust of his hips. You felt yourself getting tighter and tighter as the growing desire built up in your stomach, fuelling your erratic pace. One of your hands came to cling onto Hob’s biceps as you felt him twitch inside of you, and after a sharp thrust of his hips he let out a long moan, painting your inside with his hot seed. It didn’t take you long either to reach your own release, your core clenching and pulsing around him. As you came undone above him, Hob’s only thought in his lust-clouded mind was about how angelic and perfect you looked at this moment.

While you tried to catch your breathing, you felt your legs wobbling, sore from your previous activities. Hob felt it too, and with a delicate gesture gently monitored the both of you to roll over, with him now on the top of you. Then he slowly pulled himself out of you, careful to not hurt you and caressed your face lovingly. You gazed at him with teary eyes and a soft smile.

“I love you” you breathed out.

He smiled lovingly and laid himself next to you, before kissing your lips gently.

“I love you too,” he said.

With that, he snuggled his face against your neck, sighing in contentment. one of your hands found its way to his hair, stroking it softly, and he snatched his arms around your middle, cuddling closer to you.

As you laid there, entangled in each other’s embrace, you finally felt whole. Your heart was swelling, and for the first time in centuries, it seemed at peace. The only thing you longed for was for Morpheus to be here too. Because you needed him as much as you needed Hob. And maybe you’d find complete happiness after all those years.

[Part.5]

A/N: sorry for the delay of this long-ass part but dAMN reader and Hob are finally mingling together about damn time And yes this chapter is litteraly just angst, smut and fluff I have legit no idea of what I’m doing eheh (especially on the smut part, I legit wanted to do a smut-free fic to try to only suggest thinking it would be an interesting way of writing and I oop--)

Anywaaaayyyy curious about how things will turn out now, uh? Beware of the incoming Dreamling content with the date meeting of 1789 aka the “hoe eyes meeting”

Each liking, comments and rebloging are making my day, I love y’all so much blblbllblb

Hope you’re all doing okay, take care of you ♥

Taglist: @igotanidea @thethomaskiddo @hypermess Plz tell me if I have forgot you in the taglist

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itshungreysuzuki · 2 months

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watch my dumb ass speed run febuwhump because I got the prompts late

Day 2 - Solitary Confinement (Luca Balsa)

Tags: Angst, Violence, I have a heavy hand for emotions, questionable grammar, warnings for overbinding & unhealthy binding.

Luca was thrown into an empty, small cell. All he did was defend himself, when another prisoner had provoked him. The sting of his knuckles was a reminder of the incident, the other man an inch from death. Of course, a guard took any chance to throw people into solitary confinement. Luca was alone, he usually was around a crowd of people. Perhaps he would be left to rot? No, that was out of their power, he was here under manslaughter, not murder. The metal collar chafed the burned skin below, and with no stimuli, the thoughts wormed in.

Even when his father was alive, they couldn’t exactly see eye to eye unless it involved engineering. The fairer sex had no reason to dirty her hands on motor oil, but he never liked dresses. Good god, how did his mother walk around like that? Luca always felt at home in science, trial and error until you make a new invention. Then of course, he died in that explosion, doing something he loved. Alva never had the time to learn about him, preserving his fragile facade like a glass mask that cracked further and further until it broke, depositing him in this hellhole.

He despised being called a girl. He wasn’t a girl, he would never trap himself in that constricted shell. The bandages hurt, and Luca knew if he looked, his ribcage would be smothered in bruises. But it helped him. Loneliness meant he could do as he pleased, unwrapping the bandages to see the damage. There were bruises all right, including the kick from the cafeteria riot, punches from a fight, and the binding.

He only looked at his ribs, before wrapping the bandages back onto his chest. Sometimes food came in through the door during confinement. The fourth day he dreamed Alva, woke up crying and screaming into his knees. Nobody was there for comfort because this was solitary confinement.

“Alva…,” he said to himself, huddling into a helpless ball. What the hell was he doing? Men don’t cry! Why did he need to have emotions like a godforsaken girl!? Yet Luca huddled into this helpless creature over a bad dream. Such an ugly and pathetic display.

Maybe he would be alone the rest of his life because of his sorrow. Some horrible excuse of the male species. Luca wanted out, but he was violently spiraling out of control of something as simple as his head.

So lonely. He hugged himself in an attempt to feel better but he just felt hollow.

(me reading this: what the FUCK was i writing!?)

#febuwhump #hungreyanpost #identity v #luca balsa #angst #tumblr fic #no ship #headcanon soup

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 2 years

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We need a drunk Felix fucking pepa and the sex was SO good it put Felix to SLEEP ( we all know it just makes people horny)

Oh Félix is a horny, happy drunk, absolutely. Ya'll thought he was bad with his wife before, just you wait.

"Why are you guys carrying-oh my god are you drunk again?"

Félix was being carried by Bruno and Agustín, who were clearly struggling a bit. He had gotten heavier in his age, and Bruno sure as hell wasn't lifting any weights. Agustín looked up at her with a chuckle, trying to keep Félix from wandering off.

"He uh, made a bet with a guy that he could do a shot for every reason why he loved you."

Pepa put her hand over her chest, fawning over this mess in front of her.

"Aw, Félix...oh wait, hijole how much DID he drink?"

Félix finally lifted his head up to look at her, and he was grinning ear to ear.

"Ten, before they stopped me."

Pepa was about to have a panic attack, because this man could've been actually dying, when Agustín interjected.

"He had seven shots of actual tequila, the rest were virgin."

Félix looked at him in shock, then clear disappointment.

"You LIED to me? I was ready to brag to Pepa!"

"You can brag that you made it here consciously, Félix. Pepa, you need help getting him to bed?"

"No no, I got it. You can help Bruno though, looks like he's going to drop dead."

Bruno nodded as he handed Félix over, taking a minute to rub his arm, which he always did when he was anxious.

"Yeah my social battery is EMPTY. I need a recharge with a nap, and definitely some snacks. Dunno how you keep up with your husband, Pepa."

"I heard someone say Pepa? Oh shit, there you are!"

Félix damn near sent her to the floor as he grabbed her to kiss her cheek. Félix was an affectionate, loud, cannot keep his hands to himself drunk. And she loved him for it.

"You two go, someone needs a nap."

"Wait, hold on I'm. I'm married. Happily, thank you very much. To. To Pepa. And she's beautiful!"

She gave him a minute to realize, and when he did, he gasped.

"Pepa! I was JUST talking about you!"

Pepa rolled her eyes, before eventually getting this man into her bed. She went to tuck him in, when he held his arms out to her, and pouted.

"Hey. No. Besos."

She leaned down to give him a kiss, but that wasn't enough for drunk Félix. He held onto her face, and kissed her again. And again. He kept chuckling in between, and she couldn't help but love him and his stupid grin.

"Why are you smiling like that, tonto? It was just a kiss."

"Not just a kiss. It was a kiss from you. And I...I really really love you. Please, stay here. I missed you. I'll die of loneliness."

She was going to tell him to take his damn nap, but...well. Fuck, did this man look good under him. Helpless, looking at her like she was a dream come true. Reeking of alcohol, a bit of chest hair exposed. Maybe just...a bit. She unbuttoned a few unbuttoned of his shirt, and he lifted his hands up, totally letting her.

"What am I going to do with you, Félix?"

He chuckled, seemingly amused by the fact that her hands were wandering his big, warm, hairy frame. So much body hair on one man, from his chest, down to his belly. This is what a man should look like, to her at least. Big, well fed, wild as they came. God, she hated how wet this was making her.

"Tell me what to do. I like it when you do that~"

She couldn't take it anymore. He was too pretty, too flushed for her to resist him. She peeled away her underwear, and he seemed to take the hint. She was somehow now on her stomach, with Félix sitting on her legs.

"Hey! I thought I was suppose to tell you what to do!"

"You are. With your body. Mmph, you're so pretty."

She thought about asking him to switch, given the fact that he damn near fell over upon the movement, but his fingers were already digging into her ass, right after lifting up her dress. Drunk Félix wasn't as sauve as regular Félix. He was impulsive, a little heavy handed, and so mushy, it was just delightfully awful.

"Félix, easy! You'll bruise me!"

"You look pretty with them though. I love you. You're so...great. Dammit."

There was no finesse as he pulled himself out, and slowly pushed himself between her legs, right into her wet pussy. He put his hand on the back of her head, keeping her head down as he started to move. It was delightful, letting his dumb, drunk ass buck into her in such a simple, yet so blissful way.

"Dios Félix-"

"Wait, hold on. I wanna see your pretty face. That gets me SO horny, you know that?"

It made her weak, him leaning on top of her, and cupping her face in his rather rough grip. He leaned over to sloppily kiss her cheek and lips. He reeked of alcohol and sweat, and it was such a beautiful smell.

"You t-think I'm pretty?"

"Ooooh my god, so pretty. Can I tell you a huge secret?"

It wss hard to focus with the sound of his balls slapping against her, but she nodded, trying to be a good and attentive wife, despite the fact that she wanted to be treated like a full on whore.

"Y-yes! I mean, yes, t-tell me the secret."

"Sometimes, at night, when you're asleep, I'll watch you. And I'll stroke my dick. And I'll pretend I'm fucking you. I always wanna fuck you. You're so pretty. I like it when I give you my cum. And my kisses. Do you like it when I fuck you?"

It was stupid, him genuinely asking that as he was fucking her, as he was forcing her wetness to drip onto their bed. She nodded, nails digging into the sheets.

"I do, I r-really do! I didn't k-know you did that. Is it every night?"

"Almost. You just have such a nice pussy. It's so tight. I can't help it. Sometimes, I wake up, and I'm just. Throbbing for you. It hurts. But I kinda like it. I kinda like YOU a lot. You should marry me."

She couldn't help but kiss the hand in front of her face, occasionally licking at his fingers. They even tasted a bit like the alcohol that was making him act like this.

"I AM married to you!"

"...oh SHIT. Wow, I am. So lucky. So cumming in you is okay, right? Because I REALLY wanna put it inside of you."

Pepa nodded quickly, damn near giddy at the thought of that stupid cum nestled deep inside of her.

"Yes! It's o-okay! You can cum!"

Pepa felt herself suffocated as his hand clamped over her mouth, and with a loud, desperate groan, he came. There was something different about drunk Félix cum, she couldn't understand it. Either way, it forced her into cumming immediately after him, and it was everything. She sighed in relief as she felt it slowly drip out of her. That just hit the spot.

"Ay, I should let you go drinking more often, if you come home like this. Even if you look stupid during. Alright, bed time, you. Félix? Félix?"

She grunted as she turned to look at him. He was asleep. Absolutely knocked out. Completely on top of her, with his dick still inside of her. She grunted as she tried to push him off, but was unable. Her strength was in her arms, but she couldn't exactly have an angle to push him off. Meaning, she was stuck here. She blew a strand of hair out of her face, and looked up at the ceiling.

"Well. I'm stuck. Casita, lights, please?"

Casita not only turned off the lights, but threw a blanket over them both. Pepa smiled, giving Casita a thumbs up.

"Gracias, Casita."

#not transformers #encanto #asks #lemon #rip Casita #Casita has literally seen EVERYONE'S ass

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chiyoso · 6 months

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WKSNDNKWKUDWKEDMSSNSJ

I feel so nauseous. I feel like puking so bad but I can't. The feeling is horrible and all I'm doing is being in this fetus position until the feeling goes away. I can't eat or drink. Everything's smelling like shit, and I can't make myself eat without feeling like puking after. WJDHHEKWIEJGENWKEK I HATE THIS SO MUCH OH MY GODDD ☹️

anyways, I came over to your inbox to say hi and I missed talking to you. Tumblr has been a bitch for deleting my draft and i don't feel like writing after wasting my time on that draft Tumblr deleted 😞

but anyways, I hope you're well! <3

YUA I MISSED YOU WO FUCKING MUCHHHHHH NNNGH MY WANDERERRRRR

hearing you struggle like that makes me feel helpless too hngh, i'm no expert, but i really want to help you—try eating foods that's similar to oatmeal, or porridge in small amounts, even you feel like puking, strictly stop, don't drink water immediately after too, just take a moment to calm whatever's brewing inside, then if you feel like its safe to consume again, eat by miniscule amounts. you need to eat, you have to, and water is good yes, but consuming large amounts will result in your stomach acting up again.

if you can finish that type of dish, include something that requires chewing. i don't know what sort of problem you're dealing with, but remember, things that highten your iron and would benefit you. DON'T EAT HEAVY. at least not yet, only when you feel better and can handle the previous foods i mentioned, got that?

from my own good experiences, being sick makes me feel really damn isolated and lonely, even when people are near or just at the other room, there's this feeling of complete loneliness, and i hope you haven't been feeling that way... if so, please come here and talk to me, a lot if you so wish, my asks is always welcome for you, yua ♡ i love you, i genuinely hope you feel better soon wanderer :((

#— [• LIVE CHAT] Mutual: wanderingconstellations ♡ ••#— [ 国崩 ] MY WANDERER ;; ♡#... dont mind the other tag

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thewatcher727 · 1 year

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Tumblr Exclusive One Shot: Grief

Silver the Hedgehog stood at the edge of the shattered cliff, staring out into the void. The weight of his failure was crushing, as he thought about Blaze the Cat and the sacrifices she made to save their world. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes, but they wouldn't fall. He was frozen, unable to move, his heart heavy with sorrow.

He remembered the moments before, when Blaze had sealed herself away with Iblis, the monstrous being that threatened their world. He remembered her words, spoken with a calm determination: "Good luck, Silver!"

And with that, she disappeared from his life, leaving behind only the memory of her courage and selflessness. A whirlwind of emotions filled within him as he watched Blaze fade away in nothing. Guilt consumed him as he realized that it was his actions that led to this moment. He couldn't shake the thought that he was responsible for Blaze having to make such a sacrifice. The weight of his failure was crushing.

Silver's body was wracked with sobs, his mind consumed with self-loathing and grief. He couldn't understand how he had failed so completely, how he hadn't been able to protect her. He was a time traveler, a being with immense power, and yet he had been powerless to stop the inevitable.

"Why?" he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. "Why did I fail?"

Sadness overwhelmed him as he thought about the fact that he would never see Blaze again. She was always so full of life and now she was lost to him forever. The thought of never hearing her voice or seeing her face again was like a knife in his heart. He felt so helpless and powerless, as if he was watching the world crumble around him.

Anger burned within him as well. He was angry at Iblis for causing all of this destruction and chaos. He was angry at himself for not being strong enough to defeat him. He was angry at the world for being so cruel. He wanted to lash out and make someone pay for what had happened, but he knew that wouldn't solve anything. He stood there for a long time, lost in thought, trying to come to terms with what had happened. The world around him was still and quiet, as if it was waiting for him to make a move.

Without warning, his legs buckled out and he collapsed. His fingers traced along the ground where she stood only moments ago, longing for the space to be refilled. "Blaze…"

…

Silver the Hedgehog walked through the ashes of Crisis City, the once vibrant metropolis now reduced to rubble and ruins. He felt the weight of loss and sadness bear down upon him as he thought about the recent events that had transpired. The once optimistic and energetic hedgehog was now a shadow of his former self, consumed by grief and loneliness.

He had lost everything that mattered to him in a sudden and violent tragedy, leaving him with nothing but memories of the past and a deep, aching emptiness in his heart. Every day felt like an endless nightmare, as he was haunted by the faces of those he had lost, and the unbearable pain of knowing that they were gone forever.

Silver would spend hours just staring off into the distance, lost in thought and unable to shake the feeling of loss that weighed heavily on his soul. He had been so close to her, so connected, and now she was gone, leaving him with nothing but a void that no amount of distraction could fill.

He would close his eyes and try to imagine the warmth of her embraces, the sound of their kind voice, and the comfort of their presence, but it was never enough. No matter how hard he tried, Silver couldn't escape the grief that had taken hold of him. He felt lost and alone, without a purpose or direction in life. He wondered if he would ever be able to move on from this pain, if he would ever be able to find happiness again.

But for now, Silver was consumed by his grief, and it seemed as though there was no escape from the feelings of loneliness and heartache that would plague him every day. The memories of their adventures together flooded his mind and he felt a deep sadness, an emptiness that he had never felt before.

Silver had lost friends before, but Blaze was different. She was not only his companion, but also his mentor, the one who had taught him so much about the world and himself. They had fought side by side against impossible odds and overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles. And now, she was gone.

The weight of the loss was overwhelming. Silver felt as though a part of him was missing, as though a vital piece of his soul had been torn away. He thought of all the things he would never be able to tell her, all the experiences they would never share. The thought was unbearable.

He tried to keep it together, tried to be strong for Blaze's sake, but the tears would not be held back any longer. He fell to his knees, and the sobs wracked his body, tears streaming down his face. He clutched his chest as the pain of grief consumed him. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of her. He could see her in the way the wind blew through the trees, in the way the sun shone down on the world, and in the way the stars twinkled in the night sky.

He tried to carry on with his duties, to protect their world and keep the peace, but he just couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow failing. That he wasn't living up to the responsibilities that he had been given. In that moment, Silver realised that Blaze was not just a friend or a mentor, but a part of him, a part of his very being. And now, she was gone forever. He felt lost, adrift in a sea of sorrow, with no compass to guide him back to shore.

As the tears slowly subsided, Silver found himself filled with a sense of anger. He was angry at the world for taking Blaze away from him, angry at himself for not being able to protect her. He felt like he had failed her, and the thought was unbearable. He sat there for what felt like hours, lost in thought, until he finally managed to pull himself together. He knew that Blaze would want him to be strong, to carry on, and to keep fighting. He took a deep breath, stood up, and wiped the tears from his eyes.

Silver continued to reflect on his relationship with Blaze, slowly coming to understand that he had nothing to feel guilty for. They had both promised to save the world, no matter what, and Blaze had given her life to that cause. She had made the ultimate sacrifice, and there was no way Silver could have prevented it. He realised that Blaze would have wanted him to live a full life, to continue to fight for what was right, and to never give up hope. And so, with that in mind, Silver made a promise to himself to do just that. He would continue the fight for a better world, just as Blaze would have wanted, and he would live each day to the fullest in her memory.

The guilt and anger he had once felt gradually faded, replaced by a sense of peace and purpose. He still missed Blaze, but he no longer felt as though he had failed her. Instead, he saw their journey together as a testament to their friendship and the power of their shared belief in a better world.

And so, with a heavy heart but a light step, Silver the Hedgehog walked forward into the future, always remembering the one who had changed his life forever: Blaze the Cat. He smiled, knowing that her memory would live on, and that he would always carry her with him, in his heart. Silver journeyed on, feeling a sense of comfort knowing that Blaze's spirit was always with him, guiding him and giving him the strength he needed to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And he knew that he would always carry the memories of Blaze with him, never forgetting the sacrifice she had made for their world and for him.

#tumblr exclusive #tumblr story #stories #my fics #my writing #sonic #sonic fanfiction #sonic stories #sonic story #blaze the cat #silver the hedgehog #sonic writing #writing

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sweetlyocs · 2 years

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To Be That Someone

synopsis: Zhouxia tries to spend time with one of her members but it’s not quite the response she had hoped for june prompt 11 “it’s hard to get used to...” “what is?” “being someone that someone cares for...”

note: we have three posts left for the prompts! thankyou for all the love so far, this is a lot longer than what i thought it would be too....

Zhouxia hated days like today. Days where no matter what you did the sky stayed gloomy and your heart felt like it was weighed down by an incredible force that couldn’t be shaken. She had done everything that she could think of to make the day turn around. She had tried listening to new music, interacting with fans, even tried cooking but nothing worked. And she knew that she wasn’t the only one who was stuck in the feeling of helplessness today. Zhouxia had lost count the amount of times she had walked past Yangyang’s door. There was no sound coming from inside, if she didn’t know better she would’ve thought that he wasn’t even home. Of course it wasn’t odd for them not to spend time together, but with a majority of their members being away, the quiet brought a heavy blanket of loneliness to the dorm, even the pets were nowhere to be seen today. As the day approached late afternoon, she was still confused at her members' silence. She had messaged in case he was sleeping but she knew he was awake from the fact her messages were left on read with no reply. Wondering if he was also affected by the day, Zhouxia wandered off into their emptying kitchen to search for the perfect snacks for them to share. After cooking some ramen and even breaking into the older members do not touch snacks, she was ready to face the closed door. Knocking lightly, she waited for a response. Being gifted with nothing but silence she tapped her hand slightly harder down on the wood, surely he wasn’t ignoring her? “Yangie? I got us some food? Are you awake?” With no response, she contemplated reaching for the door handle but the weight of the food in her now burning grip quickly changed her mind.

“Yangyang?” She heard a faint souffle and then silence. She could have understood if he hadn’t heard her but at this point she knew he was just ignoring her attempts. Any other time, her patience would’ve come into play, but today was leaving a sour taste in her mouth as well and she would be damned if she kept being ignored. Rolling her eyes, Zhouxia quickly put down the food to grip the handle of the door, slightly opening it before she picked up the food to try and avoid one of the cats shoving their head in her way. Noticing the boy sat up in his bed, mindlessly scrolling made her huff in frustration, “You know, it’s rude not to answer people when they try and speak to you” “Yeah, well i thought you would’ve gotten the hint” Offended and slightly hurt at his tone and words, she gathered they were past being sweet to each other for the day. Even if it was their first time talking in it. Strolling into the room, she began maneuvering things out of her way to place the food down, “I’m not hungry” Snapped Yangyang, but she just ignored him and kept putting things down. “God, can you leave? I didn’t answer my door for a reason and I’m not hungry” His attitude was beginning to really piss her off.

Zhouxia knew that they were all dealing with a lot, their friends were out promoting, their group was split up and most of their time interacting with fans had been cut down. It was a lot and it felt like everything was in a way, falling apart. “You know what, you’re kind of a mean person Yangie. Are you that self absorbed in your own moods that you can’t think for maybe one second that I am here trying to help? Trying to make it seem like normal.” “I didn’t ask for you to” “Because you didn’t have to!” Zhouxia screamed her final words at him. She was over his attitude, and she was over this hint of deja vu that she was facing. Her eyes were slowly built up with tears as she looked at her member, his jaw slack and hand frozen mid air, “Did you for one second think, that I am doing this because I need it too…” Turning to face her properly, Yangyang felt a brief wave of guilt as he looked at her. As the youngest members, the two relied on everyone to make everything happen, to keep everything going and right not they weren’t and no one knew what was going on. She was right, he had been so consumed in his own feelings that he had neglected checking on her and bit her head off when she tried to be there for him too.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry for snapping at you, thanks for the food” Nodding Zhouxia took that as her queue to leave the room, both of their emotions were running too high for a proper conversation. Later that night, she was sitting with a chair pulled up next to Kun’s desk, mindlessly looking out his window. The dorm was once again drowning in silence, as she hugged herself in one of the boys hoodies, she flt the tears begin building in her eyes again. She missed her family, she missed being able to eat with them, or sit and watch movies as they told each other to be quiet with their comments. Yangyang was searching for her, having eaten and cleaned up all the mess left behind, he heard the emptiness that filled their home. He wondered how long it had been this quiet, it felt like if you stayed still long enough it would drown you. He couldn’t find any lights on in the dorm as he looked, stopping once he noticed the door to their leaders room wide open. He was sure Kun had closed it before he left yesterday morning.

As he peeked inside, he saw her hunched figure. He sat next to her, slightly jostling her and giving her a sad, but understanding smile. It was hard for them to be there alone, “Are you going to go home to? We have the free time, I know how much you miss your family” Nodding, Yangyang closed his eyes, thinking back to the phone call he had with his family a few days prior, “Yeah. I'm going to go back and see everyone, you could come with me if you didn’t have any plans?” She smiled in thanks, but shook her head. “Nah, I think I might go away with Hwanhee… We both have some time off so it will be nice to get away from everything” The two continued sitting at the desk, in a way it felt like minutes but they knew it was much longer. The quiet wasn’t as loud for them right now, it was comforting really.

“I never said thanks, for the food. It’s weird, even now it’s hard getting used to” Confused, Zhouxia looked at his face, she didn’t miss the slight redness that touched his cheeks, “What is?” “Being someone that someone cares for, I mean all of us have been together for so long but,” “I get it… it’s something that I have to pinch myself about too. But you know, even though the oppa’s are always looking out for us, doesn’t mean I won’t look out for you too right? We’re family Yangie” “I know, thank you. For everything” Kun returned that night, ready to crawl into bed when he was stopped by the two bodies laying in his own. Taking a few photos he sent them off to the others as he pulled the blanket from the bottom of his bed to cover them, “Of course the kids are sleeping in my bed…”

#zhouxia.wayv #kpop female addition #kpop extra member #nct 24th member #nct female member #nct female addition #wayv 8th member #kpop oc #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv female member #wayv extra member #wayv fanfic #nct extra member #nct addition #nct imagines #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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