#why does everything i make intend to look chill

[jupitercomet]

Ok but along the lines of grumpy firefighter Bradley since maybe he hasn’t had many intimate romantic relationships, what if he makes her feel insecure on accident and now man has to grovel

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝟏𝟓 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

When you first started dating Bradley, you thought that there were exactly two (count them: two) women he liked - you and Natasha. Other than that, Bradley wasn’t interested. Honestly, it kind of made you prideful. Bradley’s very attractive, a fact that’s obvious to everyone but him, and it sometimes makes you hold his hand a little tighter whenever the two of you in public and that barista at the coffee shop has been smiling at him a little too long.

But Bradley isn’t interested. He doesn’t even try to be polite, shooting any woman who approaches him a simple “do you mind?” look and his aura is so intimidating that most don’t even try. He’s not exactly mean about it, he just doesn’t really like people, especially people he doesn’t know. So yeah, it’s comforting to know that Bradley doesn’t entertain any woman flirting with him—it’s just unfortunate that you often feel like one of those women.

When it’s just the two of you, he’s perfect. He plays into your antics for kisses and cuddles and is just so sweet and thoughtful. But when you’re not together, it’s almost like it’s out of sight out of mind. He doesn’t text you and barely responds to yours. In public, it’s little things, like letting go of your hand to gesture something when his other one is perfectly free. 

You try to tell yourself that this is probably new for him, but you’re not exactly a trained veteran either and yet you manage to make an effort with your relationship with Bradley—regardless of where you are. 

You can’t help but wonder if he even wants to be in a relationship with you. Maybe he just felt bad about everything and got caught up in the moment. Maybe he never intended for the two of you to go anywhere and now he’s stuck. 

The thought makes you sick and, as a result, you decide to cancel your date with Bradley tonight. It’s petty, you know, but you’ve gotten yourself mad at him and you don’t really want to see him. He’d probably be happy about it anyway, gives him the opportunity to do something he actually wants to do.

Which is why it does surprise you a tad when he shows up uninvited with a bag of Chinese take-out.

You recover quickly, resting your hip against the door frame as if to close Bradley off from entering your place. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh…” Bradley looks at you like it’s obvious. “You said you weren’t feeling well, I thought we could just do something chill instead. Is that a problem?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to see you,” you scoff, turning back into your apartment and swinging the door closed behind you. You know that you’re being harsh, but you hate feeling this way and taking it out on Bradley (which he deserves just a little bit) is honestly easier.

Bradley catches the door before it closes, following you into your apartment. “Is there a reason you’re giving me an attitude? Because I thought that we could still have a nice night together, unless you had other plans?” His tone is so condescending that you want to rip your hair out and you roll your eyes.

“Really, Bradley? You really think I’m the one who’s working against our relationship?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bradley challenges, setting down the take-out to cross his arms.

“You know you could have texted me that you were coming over,” you narrow your eyes, huffing at the fact that Bradley’s about as dense as a brick when it comes to expressing his emotions to people—but, then again, maybe in this instance so were you. “Or text me, like, ever. Or hold my hand instead of me always holding yours. Or do anything that makes me feel secure in our relationship. Maybe I canceled on you because I didn’t want to spend our whole date convincing everybody that I’m your girlfriend because you act like you don’t even want one!”

The words ring out in your living room but your underlying message is clear. You act like you don’t even want me.

You let out a breath, ignoring the tears pricking at your waterline and instead grabbing the hoodie you’d left discarded on the couch. It’s Bradley’s—and that fact stings a little bit—but you just purse your lips, bringing it to your chest with a heavy sigh.

“I’m tired,” you say finally. “And I don’t feel that good, and I don’t really want to see you right now.” You turn to start heading to your bedroom. “Enjoy your Chinese.”

You’ve shut the door of your bedroom before Bradley can even respond.

He doesn’t leave though—and maybe there’s a part of you who doesn’t want him to—you don’t hear the front door opening and closing again. Instead you hear the steady thumps of his shoes pacing for a couple minutes and then quiet.

“Can I come in?” He knocks gently.

You don’t answer but Bradley opens the door anyway, his eyes softening when they land on you curled up in your bed, hiding your face from him in his hoodie. You cross your arms and you’re sure your glare is pitiful with your puffy nose and red eyes but you glare at him anyway.

“Can we talk?” He asks quietly. “Or do you want more space?”

You look at him expectantly. 

Bradley nods. “Okay, I’ll talk.” He lets out a breath. “I’m… I’m not good at this stuff. I don’t really care about people like this and I forget that people care about me so— so I just treat you like everybody else when you’re different. And I know you’re different.” He pauses. “But I know that I should make sure you know that you’re different and I haven’t been doing that. So, if you’ll let me, I’d like to take you out and flirt with you in front of our waitress and give you my jacket and— I don’t know, I should have paid more attention when you force me to watch rom coms— But date shit. I want to do date shit with you. Because you’re my girlfriend.”

You smile shyly when he finishes. “You wanna do date shit with me?”

“I want to do so much date shit with you, kitty,” Bradley confirms.

You grin, holding your arms out and Bradley walks into them wordlessly, wrapping you up in a bear hug that seems to say everything he can’t quite manage to with words yet.

“For the record,” he says suddenly, words slightly muffled by your hair. “I like holding your hand. Even when they get sweaty.”

“My hands do not get sweaty!”

“Yes they do, it’s like holding onto a slip n slide.”

“Bradley!—”

“A slip n slide that I love.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but laugh. “Nice save.”

#bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw x kitty #firefighter!bradley #what's up doc

[margotwhites]

Jason Todd x Singer reader (fem)

Author's note: I received such a surprisingly positive reply from this! I haven't posted in months, so this caught me off guard completely. (Yes 15 notes is good for me lmao 🥹) In this version, Jason knows who reader are since the beginning. I thought it'd be more fun.

So, basically this a longer version of the first part + a second part. I intend to write this in chapters. Enjoy and please give me your thoughts ❤️

Part two:

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

Jason Todd knew one thing or two about twitter. Or X, whatever. The thing is: he's at least three times a month in the trending topics. Not him exactly, but Red Hood. Red Hood is always there.

It goes from people hating on him, to young girls (psycho's in his opinion) calling him babygirl or daddy. He doesn't understands and he doesn't want to. He's not much one from social media, so when he is on the trending topics, normally someone from the family teases him about it.

This time is no different. Dick Grayson and Tim Drake are laughing way too hard. Looking from Tim's phone directly towards Jason. He sighs, closing the book he is reading. Currently they are all comfortably sitting on the library, eating Alfred's cookies and tea.

"What is it?" Jason asks, already regretting the question.

"Open twitter." Tim says, a huge smile on his face. Jason feels a chill down his spine because he knows it's going to be bad. Not that he cares. He doesn't give a shit about public's opinion.

But sometimes the comments about him, the mean comments wishing him to die... Those get to him. So he's prepared for that. For people hating, or for his fangirls fighting deciding who'd be his next imaginary girlfriend.

But he never expected to be shipped with someone else. He knows who you are. Everybody knows who you are. A talented young singer, that ascended till the top in less than three years. Doing some works on modeling from time to time for McQueen or Vogue or Versace, because you're that beautiful.

He wouldn't call himself a fan, but he does think you are musically talented. Anyway, everyone is shipping him with you.

And he doesn't know why.

"Why am I being shipped with her?" He asks, out loud. Before Dick or Tim can answer, Steph bursts into the library's door laughing.

"Jason-"

"I know."

She laughs again. He starts to scroll down the comments, until he finds a video of a live interview you did on Kurt's show, that prick. The journalist is famous for doing weird questions.

"So, everybody knows you have a bit of thing for vigilantism. How did that start?" Kurt asks, crossing his arms and giving the public a charming smile.

"Oh, it started with Batman, of course. I was a little kid when I heard the stories about the man that haunted the nights in Gotham. I am a L.A girl, but either way I absolutely felt enchanted. It's just so cool that is there someone out there that takes justice in their own hands."

Yeah, right. She's a fan of the Batass. Jason scoffs while watching the video, but continues anyway.

"And who is your favorite vigilante?" Kurt asked, leaning closer to her. He was a charming man, young and successful, just like her.

"Oh, Red Hood, definitely." She says that without a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Just a plain, simple answer.

"Red Hood? Isn't he a bit... extreme?" Kurt said, tilting his head.

"I think he is doing good in his own ways, and that is so freaking cool, you know? And I think his motorcycle is super... uh, how can I say? Hot." She says, and gives the public a little giggle. She continues:

"Which doesn't mean I agree with everything he does. But I find his persona interesting and refreshing. He's different from the rest, different approaches and all. It makes me curious about who is the man behind the mask."

"If you could say anything to him, what would you say?" Kurt asks, smiling.

"Oh! I'd probably ask him to take me on a ride with his bike. And to get a girlfriend. I think he needs a feminine touch in his life." She answers, with an amused grin.

The video ends and Jason doesn't really know what to think. You just said he needed a girlfriend. A feminine touch.

The truth is, he can't really disagree. When was the last time he felt a woman's body close to his? More time than he wants to admit. Months. Maybe more than a year. In his defense, it's not that he doesn't have the game. He just don't have the energy to play it.

Steph laughs takes him out of his wandering thoughts. He looks up at his siblings, an irritated expression in his face.

"Read the tweets, the tweets are the best part!" She says, chuckling again. Jason goes straight to the shipping hashtag. People saying they want to be Jason, people saying they want to be you, people saying they want to be the bed where you both - forget it.

He sighs and throws his cellphone on the couch, sitting back and beginning to read his book.

"That's it? That's your reaction?" Dick asks, tilting his head like a curious dog.

"It's just a bunch of tweets. People will forget eventually. Nothing I should worry about." Jason replies, not taking his eyes off The Catcher in the Rye.

Little did he know.

__________________________________________________

Okay. Maybe you shouldn't have said that. Maybe you were dumb and reckless. And now your agent and her team are almost killing you.

It's not your fault. You were always told to be honest, because your fun and outgoing (at least on stage) personality were one of your best traits.

"Are you crazy! This could have led to terrible repercussions. What if everyone focused on the fact that you support a murderer?!" Claya, your agent says, almost shouting.

"Well, they didn't. Now they are just shipping him with me." You say, trying to defend yourself. The truth is, behind the cameras and the stage and all the "popstar" persona you have to pull out, you are an introvert. You have two lifes.

"Yeah, and you should be grateful for it. This can even be a good sign. It seems people are interested in your love life. We can use that for our advantage." Claya says.

You adore her, really. And it's her job to figure it out how to make your career ascend. And she does it very well. But sometimes you just wish it wouldn't be about money or status. It would be just about how to do good music.

Anyway, you don't want to be ungrateful. You're living your childhood dream. So you take those thoughts out of your mind.

"Well, what do you have in mind?" You ask, blinking in confusion.

"We're going to Gotham. You're going to do a show there." Claya says, confidently and typing on her computer.

"Are you out of your mind? Shows in Gotham always go wrong. The Chase Atlantic show from last month was attacked by Pyg!" You say, trying to contain your agent's wicked ideas.

"Honey, don't worry. Maybe Red Hood appears in to save the whole ordeal. It couldn't be better." Claya says, standing up and closing her computer.

Claya and the team leave you alone to think. It's not like you have a lot of choice in the matter, anyway. If she says you're doing the show, you gotta do it.

But it's just a show, right? Nothing to worry about.

Little did you know.

#jason todd #jason todd reader #batfamily #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd deserves better #dc memes #jason todd drabble #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd blurb #jason todd fluff #jason todd smut #jason todd headcanon #jason todd imagine #jason todd x female reader #jason todd x reader

[quimichi]

. . . . . ╰──╮HOW FAR GONE ARE YOU?╭──╯ . . . . .

Childe x Creator!Reader

He's your most devoted Worshipper, doing everything and anything for you, without any orders. Sounds like a dream, doesnt it? Well...it could be if he wouldn't had lost his mind...can you fix him tho?

"I took care of those who dared to do...profanity against you, my grace" his words, so careful yet rushed. He came in a hurry, he seems to came as fast as he could to proudly announce his doing to you. But you can't help but think...what exactly did he do?

"What did you do, Childe?" You can feel his answer, deep down you know what he did to those souls who dared to not worship the god he is obsessed with. Personally, you couldn't care less about a few who dont like you as their creator, but Childe could never accept this as you could. "They have been... taken care of." Childe's voice is cold, emotionless, and his eyes are dead set on your face. His words feel frozen, they sting on your skin and let shivers run down youe spine. Childe truly is...your most scary and feared Worshipper. He says it flatly but there is a sense of victory in his tone. Everything he does for you makes him proud, he will always come running to you like a child to their parents, this is how it feels like, a child looking for his parents approval.

"They are no longer a threat to your rule." Do you truly want to know what he did? Do you truly want to ask him this? Do you TRULY wanna feed into his obsession even more?....

"Childe, please tell me what you did" your voice was layered with worry, but he can't hear it, he won't understand it. He is far to much gone now to even understand in what state of worry he puts you in. "I have killed them, my grace." Childe's words are delivered with a smug smile, and when you hear it, a chill goes down your spine. "They will never again be able to insult you... or me again."

Childe is breathing faster now, as if reliving the moment for you. His face is flushed, but there is no remorse, no doubt. Only excitement, a cruel satisfaction. Never insult him again? "Why would they ever insult you?"

Childe's eyes flicker closed. "Because they were jealous," he says with a snarl in his tone. "They were jealous of the time I spent with you. They thought you did not deserve my dedication... so I made them understand." "You killed them because you thought those people were jealous?" Now you truly know that he lost all common sense, lost in his devotion for you. Lost in his love, his obsession, his adoration for you. If he could, if you would allow him to, hed get rid of every single person in Teyvat to only have you for himself. Childe flashes you a brilliant smile. "Of course, My God." He says it so casually— as if he was telling you that water is wet. "Did you really think I would tolerate that kind of insolence?"

So, he does truly think that people who notice his obsessions with you are doing profanity against you, because of jealousy? Isn't the mind of a insanely obessed and delusional person beautiful? But, can you really accept him this way, can you handle him? Can you...fix him?

A/n: it turned out so much more messy than intended...it's horrible haha

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #genshin childe #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #childe x reader #creator reader #self aware genshin #Bro idk there are so many tags for this

[badasmuse]

“Partition”

Bada Lee x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), oral sex, lowercase intended, bottom!bada, language, mommy kink?

Summary: the tension between you and Bada becomes too much for you to handle.

Based off “Partition” by Beyoncé

y/n has been my stylist for about three years now. whenever i have an event, a performance, or a dinner, i call her hoping she’s available to do my hair, makeup, and help me pick an outfit. today is just the same. i have a performance and i need her there with me.

“what do you want ms. bada?” she says sweetly when she answers the facetime call.

i groan, “i hate when you call me that.”

“i know that’s why i do it. what’s up baby?” i watch her move around a bit in her bed. i hate that i’m interrupting her day off.

no i don’t.

“i have a performance at seven i need my girl with me.” i say giving her my bada lee 1000 watt smile.

“just because you smile all sweet doesn’t mean i’ll give in. but because rent is due in three days i’ll come. i’ll be there around five. go wash your hair you still have glitter in it and i hate glitter.” she says before she hangs up. how rude.

two hours go by and the doorbell rings. i run to the door excitedly.

“y/n!!” i exclaim pulling her in.

“hey easy, i’m clumsy.”

“sounds like a you problem. okay so they’re sending a car to come get us in thirty minutes. i couldn’t get all the glitter out but i tried.” i say holding onto her as she takes her shoes off.

“that’s what you get for cheating on your hairstylist. i should shave your head bald.” she mumbles going to the kitchen and opening the fridge. “ugh how do you live with no food?”

“there’s oreos in the cupboard.”

“i love you.”

i smile and collect my things waiting for the car to pull up. “where’s your bag?” i ask.

“in my trunk. i didn’t feel like getting it out. i figured my bestie boo bada would get it out for me.” she smiles at me and my heart skips a beat.

“of course.” i look at the window and see the car pull up. “the car is here. you ready?”

she grabs a couple oreos and puts them in a napkin in her pocket and nods.

we load everything in the car and climb in the backseat. “i’m charging you extra for making me come out. i was comfortable in bed.”

“i’ll pay you whatever you want.” i say not even looking at her, scrolling on my phone.

“excuse me miss?” the driver says and i look up.

“yes?”

“we hit traffic, it’s going to be at least thirty minutes i’m so sorry.” he says.

“oh it’s not your fault. i’ll just let them know. what time will we make it by?”

“six thirty is what it says.”

“shit that gives me thirty minutes.”

“i’ll do your makeup in here. saves us time.” y/n says. she reaches behind our seats, being in a van it’s real easy to access the trunk, and grabs her makeup bag.

she grabs out the primer and everything else she needs. “okay.. yeah imma have to sit on your lap this ain’t gon work.” she climbs on my legs and hangs her ring light from the ceiling before she grabs me gently. i let it happen, it’s not the first time she’s been in my lap doing my makeup.

“you need to start doing your skincare routine morning and night bada. not just at night.” she mumbled rubbing primer onto my face.

i sit still as she does her job, staring at her as she concentrates and closing my eyes when needed. the light strokes of her fingers on my face sends chills down my spine as it does every single time.

then i feel her move to my lips, i part them slightly and she applies what i assume is liquid lipstick to them. she uses her thumb to clean it up and i hear her breathe in sharply. causing me to look up.

“you have pretty lips..” she mumbles.

there’s always been slight sexual tension between us since the third month of her being my stylist. there’s always tiny touches, or she’ll let her hand linger sometimes after doing my makeup or hair. i’ve seen video edits of me and her together hugged up and you can see how uncomfortably tense we are despite being extremely comfortable with each other.

i look in her eyes and hers flicker from mine to my lips. “fuck..” she whispers before pressing her lips to mine.

i grab her shirt moaning quietly into the kiss, parting my lips so she can move her tongue inside my mouth. her hands go to my hair and she pulls it slightly making me groan. “y/n we… what are we doing?”

“let me take care of you.” she whispers in my ear, “excuse me driver? can you roll up the partition please.”

his eyes flicker in the rear view mirror before he rolls up the partition and turns the music up slightly.

y/n kneels down in front of me and pulls my jogging pants off. i made it easy for her by not wearing anything under them. that was sarcasm by the way.

i suck in a breath as she runs her fingers up and down my folds spreading my juices all over me.

“y/n..” i whine quietly and she looks at me.

“do you trust me bada?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.

i nod my head before she even finishes her sentence, “more than anything.”

she doesn’t respond, mouth going right to my clit making me moan. she flicks her tongue skillfully and i arch my back off the seats.

she pulls me closer by my thighs, licking from my hole to my clit before she shoves a finger in me. i let out another moan bracing myself against the seat. it’s been so long since i’ve had anyone touch me this way i feel like cumming now.

“y/n..” i say rolling my eyes back as she adds another finger, “fuck i’m so close mommy.” i start to pull away from her, the feeling of her tongue is too good i can’t take it much longer.

“don’t pull away from me.” she rasps slapping my clit which had me jerking in the seat. fuck she’s so rough.

“i’m sorry i’m sorry.” i repeat the two words a couple more times incoherently. “please.. please right there.” i whine as she curls her fingers against my spot. i’m seeing stars.

“cum for me bada.” she whispers flicking her tongue once again and boy i lost it.

i let out a loud whine as i came on her fingers, body shaking, back arching, hands gripping the seat of the car. i fall back and work to catch my breath.

y/n grabs a baby wipe from the trunk and gently cleans me up before helping me pull my pants back up.

i whine quietly and she pulls me to her seat and climbs on my lap before leaning my head on her chest, stroking my hair.

“you did so good for me baby.” she whispers, kissing my forehead. i hide my face in her chest still whining. i’m extremely sensitive and exhausted.

“i’m sleepy..” i mumble.

she looks out the window, “take a quick nap, we’re still stuck in traffic.” she whispers. i lay my head on her shoulder and just as i was about to shift into dream land..

“did you call me mommy?”

uh oh.

#Spotify #bada lee #bada lee x reader #swf2 #swf2 x reader #imagine #oneshot

[loveinhawkins]

connected to this

Sometime during the bat-proofing of his Upside Down trailer, Eddie’s hit with a wave of vertigo so bad his ears ring.

He has to stop in his tracks, clinging onto the chain-link fence with one hand. He lets his head hang low until the dizziness passes. Breathes slowly.

At first he thinks the faint thudding noise is just an after-effect, but then he glances up to see Dustin scrambling onto the trailer roof.

“What’re you doing?” Eddie asks blankly. “We’re not going up there until—”

He breaks off at the look Dustin gives him over his shoulder—eyes bright with a frenzied determination.

“We’ve gotta block the vents,” Dustin says.

There’s something… off with his voice, Eddie thinks. He can’t put his finger on it.

“Okay,” he says hesitantly. “Good thinking, man.”

He joins Dustin on the roof, just watches him for a couple seconds, perplexed: he’s working so fast.

Too fast.

Eddie’s heart jumps into his throat when Dustin loses his footing; he yanks him back from the edge in a flash, forces out a chuckle, “Woah, hey, take it easy. We’ve got plenty of time.”

Dustin doesn’t look at him, doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s heard.

But he’s holding onto Eddie’s wrist so tightly Eddie swears his bones creak.

The ‘concert’ goes fine—Dustin delivers his countdown with precision, but his eyes always slide to a point that’s just slightly to the left of where Eddie actually is.

What the hell did I do? Eddie thinks.

He can’t come up with an answer.

“One!” Dustin bellows, and they’re off; Eddie makes sure Dustin’s always in front of him, feels like their feet barely touch the ground…

And then they’re inside.

We’ve made it.

Eddie sinks against a wall, breathless. “H-holy shit—”

“Shh!”

Dustin’s standing, one hand up. Listening intently.

The sheer noise of the bats on the roof is awful—scratching, clawing, chattering. Like mice in the walls, but a million times worse.

Eddie suffers through thirty seconds of not talking before it bursts out of him, and maybe it’s tempting fate, but he can’t help it, the panicked urge to voice it is too great, “I think—think everything’s holding. They’re…” He swallows. “They’re not gonna get in.”

Dustin nods faintly.

But there’s a rigidness to him that sets the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck on end. He looks like a hound on the scent. Ready to bolt.

“Hey, um…” Eddie stands and nods up to the Gate meaningfully. “Think we’ve done all we can, Henderson. We were good decoys, and… uh, no deviations, remember?”

Dustin laughs. It’s a terrible noise; Eddie’s never heard him sound bitter before.

“Oh, now you want to go,” he says with uncharacteristic venom—but Eddie knows all too well how that can mask a deep, unimaginable terror.

Eddie opens his mouth—intending to reassure, to say something, anything—before he realises that above them, it’s all gone quiet.

Dustin comes to the same discovery a millisecond after he does. “What’s…” He trails off and finally looks Eddie right in the eyes.

He sprints to the front door, pulls it open.

Eddie curses. “Are you insane? Get back, shut the—”

But the only thing that comes through the doorway is the chill of The Upside Down.

A rumble of thunder. The bats screech, but it sounds like…

“They’re leaving,” Dustin says numbly. “Why are they leaving?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Eddie says, even though he feels sick to his stomach. “That’s not for us to—hey! Dustin, don’t!”

He lunges forward, but he’s not quick enough; Dustin slips right through his fingers, and Eddie watches in horror as he tears across the trailer park, and Eddie follows, of course he does, but he’s always a step behind, always too late to help—

The bats grow louder and louder. Lightning illuminates them, a monstrous cloud in the sky: they’re circling up ahead, and it makes Eddie think of vultures and carrion.

And he sees…

Dustin lets out this wail, a painful keen; Eddie feels it reverberate inside his chest, almost as if it comes from him too.

He catches up (too late, too late), and suddenly he is Wayne, pulling a child into his arms, urging brokenly, “Don’t look, don’t look,” even though when told that any kid’s first instinct is to—

“Let me go!” The scream sounds like it’s tearing Dustin’s throat, splitting him in two. A grief too much to hold. “Let me go, you asshole—Steve! Steve, please.”

“D-Dustin. You can’t help, he’s—” Eddie’s eyes burn. “He’s beyond…”

One solitary chime.

Eddie shudders, almost laughs—because if there was to be a vision designed to torment him, surely it would be this one; God, he’ll take it, he’ll take anything so long as it meant—

But Dustin freezes in his arms, and Eddie knows that he can see the clock, too.

With a gut-wrenching cry, Dustin fights to break away again.

“Don’t,” Eddie repeats, but it’s no use; Dustin hits him right in the jaw.

He falls to the ground, but the pain is nothing to the tug he suddenly feels in the back of his mind; he thinks of when Steve whispered, “He's here. Henderson. That little shit, he's here. He's like… He's in the walls or something. Just listen,” and Eddie could only stare in bewilderment, because some things are just impossible, aren’t they?

Aren’t they?

Eddie pushes himself up with his hands.

Dustin’s not running towards Steve.

He’s running towards the clock.

Until… he isn’t. He just stops, halfway to it. He looks over his shoulder, looks back at Eddie with heartbreaking uncertainty.

“I can—I can do it, right?”

It shouldn’t make sense—it doesn’t make sense, but Eddie inexplicably finds his mouth opening.

As if from somewhere deep within, he says, “Sure you can.” He doesn’t understand where the words are coming from, is just abruptly certain that he believes them with all his heart. “I know you can.”

Dustin takes a deep breath. He nods.

Runs.

Eddie watches him go—he doesn’t look away, not until the world is lit up, a burning white, and he simply can’t do it anymore.

#(temporary) major character death #eddie and dustin #dustin henderson fic #dustin henderson ficlet #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #steve and dustin #henderfam #dustin henderson #eddie munson #steve harrington

[malereadermaniac]

Low self-esteem ~ Your Crush x Male Reader

Your crush is your bestfriend, you two talk about everything - even your insecurities

You also subject your bestfriend to gay panic

You and (y/c) were chilling in your car, the night sky dark and starry as the radio played quietly in the background

The two of you were chatting and singing along to your playlist for hours in some random parking lot - empty fastfood bags in your backseat

As the conversations shifted in topic, the slightly tired man next to you brought up relationships

There were no secrets between you two - tmi practically didn't exist, so of course (y/c) knows that you're a FAT virgin

In fact, you've never dated anyone at all

"Bro how is it that you can't get a man?" The (h/c) man asks you jokingly, leaning back in the car seat

"It's not like I don't want to, dickhead!" You respond, a chuckle escaping your lips as you gently punch your bestfriends arm

"....I dunno, guess I'm just worried no one would like me like that" you mumble, resting your head on your knee

(y/c) felt sad at what you said, empathising with you - but a small part of him grew angry?

The (h/c) man knew you were the insecure type but he couldn't wrap his head around why

'How could he think that? Even I'd date him! And I'm straight for God's sake!'

'I'd date him?...' (y/c) thought to himself

But he swatted the impending sexuallty crisis away and kept chatting to you about the deep stuff

As the night came to an end, you dropped your best friend off at his house and went back to yours

That night was weird for (y/c), not extraordinarily strange but the man struggled to go to bed that night for some odd reason

A few months later, some guy in your class was having a birthday bash

You weren't extremely popular - but (y/c) was, so you were his plus-one

The two of you were on call as you were getting ready, you chose his outfit for him and he promised not to drink as to drive you home

What a gentleman

He leaves for your house as you end the call and finish dressing up

A knock at your door jolts you from your phone and you happily swing over to open your front door

Facing you was (of course) (y/c), looking as gorgeous as ever - his hair done in a way he doesn't normally wear it " 'cause it's too much effort" and clothes he saves for going out

To sum it up, (y/c) look hot - so hot he made you blush

On the other hand, the taller man couldn't take his eyes off of you whatsoever

The way your clothes suited you so well, brought out your best features - you were so, so handsome

Your lips and face in general looks so soft, the way your eyes looked up into his in such a cute way and how perfect your body looked

'What the fuck am I doing?' (Y/c) asked himself as he snapped out of his very gay trance

He slung an arm around your shoulders and led you to his very nice and very fancy car

"Why thank you kind sir~" you tease the man as he opens the door for you - putting an arm on his shoulder in a jokingly flirtatious manner

(Y/c) really starts to experience gay panic when the simple, friendly gesture makes him break out into yet another blush

The drive there was difficult for your bestfriend, your cute rambling reminded him of the fact that he found you cute, which would then spiral into a sexuality crisis

Once the two of you arrived at the party, you shut up - following behind (y/c) like a puppy as he greeted everyone

He knows you always subconsciously become his shadow at parties - so he makes an effort to include you, always

(Y/c) intends to sling his arm around your shoulders, but as he does so he can't help but think about his arm around your waist

God how he'd love the feeling of his arm fitting so perfectly around you, so warm, so hot, so real... too real.

Instead of going for your shoulders, the now blushing man's arm wrapped around your waist

You didn't move away though, you didn't mind of course - he was your closest friend - so (y/c) kept his arm around you for the rest of the conversation he was having with his mates

As the evening went on, and you got tipsy, (y/c) really couldn't keep his eyes off of you

You shed some of your clothing, feeling hot from the alcohol

The liquid courage erasing your slight social anxiety led to you dragging (y/c) on the dance floor once the good music started playing

Which inevitably lead to you drunkenly holding and dancing on the flustered man

Even though (y/c) was struggling with an internal conflict, looking at you was enough to drown the thoughts out - he liked seeing you enjoy yourself, having fun and not worrying about "looking stupid"

"Fuck it' he thought to himself

(Y/c) came to terms with the fact that he liked you - not that he was gay or that he was bi or whatever, he didn't want to figure that out now

But the taller man knew that he definitely had feelings for his bestfriend

So as the song changed to a slower one, as cliché as it was, (y/c) moved one of his bigger hands to your cheek

The action immediately pulled your focus to your bestfriend, a blush evident on your face as you looked into his eyes

You bit your bottom lip out of nervousness - not even alcohol could hide your anxious nature

You saw (y/c) swallow his nerves and move in closer to you

You could somehow hear your heartbeat over the loud music as you closed your eyes

You didn't give much thought to it in the moment, you just enjoyed the kiss - a message worth a thousand words being conveyed in the kiss the two of you shared

Your arms wrapped around (y/c)'s neck, one hand running through and grabbing his specially styled hair

His one arm was wrapped around your waist, his other hand holding your waist

The moment was perfect - despite being so public, the people surrounding you were too busy with their own matters or had too many substances in their system to notice your shared moment

However once the two of you pulled away from eachothers lips, the reality of the situation hit you both - simultaneously you thought to yourselves 'fuck I just kissed my BESTFRIEND! What if I just fucked up our friendship?!'

You blush and look down at your feet, taking (y/c)'s hand in yours and dashing towards the nearest bathroom

You lock the door and look up into (y/c) worried eyes

"Well...?" He mumbles

"Well what?! You're the one that just kissed me!" You shout frantically, a blush very evident on your face

"I... I don't know what I was thinking- I'm so sorry, (y/n)!"

"So you didn't mean it...?" You say as your face drops, looking worried

"No! It meant everything I-... I think I like you, (y/n)..." (y/c) manages to muster up the courage and put his emotions and thoughts into words

Your face drops and your face darkens even more with a blush

"YOU LIKE ME?! WHY?! SINCE WHEN?!" You shout eith a flustered look on your face

"I ONLY JUST REALISED TODAY! And what do you mean why?? I fucking love everything about you, (y/c)!"

"Oh shut up you know I'm insecure in that sense... Well then... what do we do?" You mumble, looking only into (y/c)'s eyes

"We could get outta here? Go back to mine?" The taller man suggests

"Okay... and do what?" You say as your heartbeat begins to calm down

"I mean upt to you... but kissing you felt pretty good~" (y/c) suggests with a flirtatious tone

"Shush" you say as you avert your eyes, hitting the taller man's chest playfully

The night was even better spent once you two got back to (y/c)'s place - the two of you started making out in his car and ended up in his bed without breaking contact!

#male reader sfw #gay #male reader #x male reader #fanfic #fluff #cute gay #your crush #your crush x reader #male crush x male reader #mlm #m reader #gay crush

[yuesya]

Suguru frowns. 

“Gakuganji-gakucho. What do you think you’re doing?” In front of him, the aged principal of the Kyoto jujutsu school tenses. And for good reason –the ire of a Special Grade sorcerer is not something to take lightly, and Suguru does not appreciate the old man attempting to kill Yaga. Who was looking rather decidedly beaten and battered at the moment; if Suguru hadn’t arrived just in the nick of time, then he’d be dead. 

Just the thought of it sends a cold chill down his spine.

“… What are you doing here, Geto?” 

Suguru pauses. His old teacher’s voice is… strange. And not strange as in ‘surprised,’ which would only be reasonable given that Suguru had pretty much suddenly appeared out of thin air here, after solving the puzzle of that complex eightfold imprisoning barrier he’d been trapped in. He hadn’t expected there to be a teleportation mechanism built into the exit, either.

No, Yaga-gakucho’s voice sounds hostile towards him, which makes absolutely no sense. Also, ‘Geto?’ Why is Yaga-gakucho calling him ‘Geto’ and not ‘Suguru’ as he usually does? Why does he look at Suguru as if he’s an enemy? He’d literally just saved his life!

“What do you mean, ‘why are you here?’” Suguru gives his old teacher an unimpressed look. “I’m one of your teachers, where else would I be? Satoru would’ve driven you up the wall a long time ago if I wasn’t here to rein him in.”

Silence. The look that Yaga-gakucho gives him –Suguru can’t quite put his finger on it, but something about it feels wrong, wrong, wrong.

“What’s your angle here?” Yaga-gakucho scowls. “Stop lying. We know what you did at Shibuya! How long are you going to play obtuse?”

Suguru rears back, startled by the vehemence in the older man’s voice. But at the same time, “What do you mean, Shibuya? I’ve been in America for the past two weeks! You were the one who handed the assignment to me!”

“What?”

“What?”

Another silence. This one is much more awkward than the previous, however, and also blatantly ringed with confusion for all parties involved. Even Gakuganji-gakucho.

... It takes awhile to sort things out. Apparently, Suguru hadn’t just teleported back to Japan when he’d solved that puzzle barrier. He’d been fucking teleported to a parallel reality, and the sheer sideways angle of everything here was absolutely mind-boggling. Firstly, he was apparently dead –but also not, because some thousand year-old curse user had hijacked his corpse? Also, the Geto Suguru of this world had gone off his rocker as a third year student and intended to massacre all non-sorcerers in the world in order to create a world without curses, which, just. What??

“Why would they ever do that?” he asks, completely flabbergasted… and just a touch morbidly curious.

Because Amanai had died. Which had then led to the Suguru of this world questioning the worth of non-sorcerers and the purpose of sorcerers –and then, madness.

… In what world was that possible? Zenin Toji had gotten past the terrifying combination of Satoru and Shiki? How?

Suguru frowns pensively. “Amanai Riko is the teacher for second year students in my world. After the mission in our second year, she rejected the merger at the end, and the Tokyo school accepted her as a new student. She traveled with Tsukumo-san for a few years after graduating, then came back to take up a teaching post.”

“I… see.” There’s a complicated note in Yaga-gakucho’s voice, accompanied by something else that’s just slightly wistful. Clearly, he had his own regrets over how that mission to protect the Star Plasma Vessel went in this world. 

Suguru rubs at his forehead. This world… things are currently an utter mess. And Satoru and Shiki were sealed? How? It boggled the mind –Satoru alone was already unstoppable, and together with his sister the two were invincible. Or at least, the closest approximation to invincible that there was. However, from another perspective, it also painted the current situation in a grim light. They were really in some dire straits.

Good thing that Suguru was here to help, and hopefully he’d also be able to find a way back to his own reality where everything made sense, at the end of this mess.

“You know the students are probably going to attack you on sight, right?”

Suguru waves his hand, “It’ll be fine, Yaga-gakucho. I’m a teacher, I can deal with a few enthusiastic students.”

#Writing #zenith of stars au #twins au #au of an au #geto from twins au lands in canon-verse #@collectivetrash you are responsible for this #satoru does not show up but like #i figure that yaga and the students could have fun first haha #guys this is now dubbed the #twin cannons au #thanks to @raorica for the name haha

[tonowarii]

Can you make a lo’ak x reader where lo’ak returns to the forest with tsireya and the reader gets the wrong idea thinking that lo’ak is in love with tsireya (can you incorporate some lines form Camila cabellos song “shameless”) it’s fine if you don’t want to, love you and your writing so much!!!

i tried to make this as clear ass possible

YESS!! Sorry it took so long!! I hope you like this one!! Thank you so much!! Though I felt like I made Lo'ak ooc for this one 😭

I Want You To Give In

lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan x gn! metkayina! reader

wc: 0.9k

warning/s: angst if you squint, comfort and fluff

The air hung heavily as eclipse had set, you were carrying the echoing words of your mother and father as Lo'ak had bonded with the outcast tulkun, Payakan.

You had wanted to talk to him, but you couldn't find him. So you were now wandering aimlessly around the shore, near the forest.

You didn’t know why, but you had taken a liking to the forest boy, but it seemed like your sister, Tsireya, had too.

The moment rustling was heard from the forest, you perk your head up and the sight almost sent your heart to stop.

You saw your sister and Lo'ak emerging from the forest, Tsireya saying something before leaving Lo'ak alone.

The smile that you watched set on Lo'ak's face had your stomach dropping, your mind screaming at you to run, hide, go away before he could see you. However, you were planted right on the spot watching him until he felt it.

He looks up and quickly spots you. You gulp. You didn't want to hear what he wanted to say as he was quickly approaching you, you feared that he'd finally tell you how Tsireya had won his heart over or- anything.

You took a couple of steps back but it was too late as he was already there, waving at you and opening his mouth. "Hey!"

Having no control over your words, you had sounded meaner than you had intended to.

"I don't want to do this now, Lo'ak."

His expression puzzled before gesturing "Do what..?"

You shake your head, letting out a fake smile, pushing things through to finally get over it.

"Congrats, Lo'ak."

His face became even more confused as his mouth gapes open. "Congrats...on what? I didn't even do anything." He chuckles sheepishly, tilting his head at you.

Oh, forget it

"Stop, don't speak, I already know you've been interested in my sister for the longest time." You flatly said, hoping the more you push him away, your feelings for him would drain out of your system.

Lo'ak's face drops, walking a little closer to you but you stepped back." What are you talking about? I don't—"

You scoff, "Sure go ahead and make excuses, I already know, Lo'ak. Just- leave me alone."

"(Y/N) hold on, wait." Lo'ak said, reaching out for you and making you face him.

"Wha- where did you hear this? Where is this coming from?" Lo'ak asked you urgently.

The close space between the two of you with his hand on your wrist was making things difficult.

You hated the way your gaze stared down his lips before shaking your head.

"Why does it matter? So you could rub it in my face on how you'd finally get to be with my sister? Yeah, great." You spoke, tearing his grip away.

Lo'ak's brows knitted together, shaking his head "No, you've got it all wrong!"

"Pretty sure I've got everything right." You spat, turning away and finally walking away, back faced towards him.

"I don't want Tsireya, I want you." Lo'ak voiced loudly, enough for you to hear and almost everyone within an earshot distance from the two of you.

You stop, his words sending chills as your ears twitched.

Hearing the shuffling of sand behind you, you had suspected Lo'ak had closed the distance between the two of you again.

"You heard me. I don't care where you heard that from- it's not true. Okay, I don't- you saw me earlier, right? I'll tell you what happened."

You still had your back faced towards him, breathing heavily at the new information crashed over you like a strong wave.

"Tsireya was actually telling me to make a move already. I said its too early- but maybe this is finally a sign." He spoke lowly, hoping his words were enough for the explanation.

"Apart from that she only wanted to defend me because she believes we should give Payakan a chance," He sighs. "Then she mentioned you."

Tsireya, you—

"Turns out everyone knows... they know that I like you, except for... you." Lo'ak chuckles at the end.

Turning, you eventually faced him and he looks straight into your eyes, a sign he was telling the truth.

"Tsireya had been encouraging me to tell you already... Here it is, I guess... I planned on a more grand gesture but-" He laughs sheepishly. "I like you, (Y/N)."

You gulp, well this day definitely had its twist.

"Lo'ak..." You spoke, mind blanking as you searched for the words to say to the boy in front of you.

He pursed his lips, looking at you as his tail swayed lowly behind him and his ears lightly dropping.

"You- you're really something." You said, smile slowly making its way to your face. Lo'ak's tail slowly curled, eyes widening at your reaction.

"Y-yeah?" He replies unsurely.

You didn't know what else to say, so you did what you figured was best to tell him how you felt. You pulled him into a hug, arms going around his neck, giving him a light squeeze.

Lo'ak blinks at the sudden affection as his heart felt like it was about to beat out his ribcage. Your arms wrapping around him, the scent of you filling his senses.

It takes him a second to respond before his arms were now snaking around your waist. The feeling so foreign to him, having a person he liked hugging him.

He lifts his hand to place on the back of your head, letting the side of your head rest on his chest as he cradled you. He could get used to this.

But first, it was time to plan on courting you.

#lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan #lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan x reader #lo'ak sully x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #avatar lo'ak #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak sully #lo'ak #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak imagines #lo'ak x y/n #lo'ak x you #lo'ak angst #lo'ak fluff #loak sully #loak imagine #avatar loak #loak x reader #loak #loak x you #loak x y/n #avatar the way of water x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar the way of water fanfiction #atwow x reader #atwow #the way of water #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water imagines #𝐲𝐬𝐚'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 ❁

[tessatales]

The Sins of the Winter Soldier Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky x Female reader

Warning: Non really, Nightmares still?

Notes: slow burn romance, find the first chapter here.

A/n: Hey! Thank you everyone who read the first chapter! Here’s the second with several more backed up ready to go :)

Tags: @scott-loki-barnes @kandis-mom @identity2212

Chapter 2

It took exactly one week for you to break your promise. You never intended too, but something about that night had drawn you to exactly where you shouldn’t be.

You’d woken up from another nightmare, your alarm clock clutched in your hand like a weapon as you scrambled to ground yourself. Once the demons had run away and your heart rate had calmed, you’d decided to go for a walk, the shadows in your room looking more and more like bad memories the longer you stared into the dark. Padding through the halls, you’d picked up a bag of cookies you kept for bad night’s as you passed the kitchen; your feet silent as you wondered the dark corridors.

You’d been wondering for a while before you realised where you were, the normal halls and doors being replaced with the reinforced scaffoldings and deadlock entrances.

Shit

You were stood in the doorway of the Pit then. Panic rising in your throat as you wondered if you’d already messed everything up.

Does he know? Can he sense me? I’ll have to leave again. Shit shit shit

Placing your hand on the door, you took several deep breaths, imagining the square technique Natasha had told you about. The memory of her hand on your back from the first time you’d experienced an attack at the tower throwing itself to the forefront of your mind as it battled against itself. When your breathing finally steadied, you watched as the subtle glow from your powers faded from your skin. With the room around you no longer spinning, you steeled yourself for something stupid.

With a final deep breath, you engaged the lock on the Pit deck. Striding into the quarters before you had chance to bottle it.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the edges of the cell itself. Since your first visit, the Winter Soldiers cell had been furnished with a simple bed. Or at least it looked like a bed. The remains of it were scattered about the cell floor like they’d been imploded from the inside. The only thing intact being the thin army style blanket that must of once covered the frame.

He wasn’t stood this time. Instead he sat amongst the chaos, legs crossed and eyes closed as he seemed to sleep. You knew he was awake though. You knew it in the slight hitching of his arm as he heard you approach.

“Hello” You said to the dark, your voice loud in the empty observation deck. The Winter Solider didn’t move.

“I know you’re awake.” You carry on, taking a step closer till you stood at the very edge of the main cell deck. He opened his eyes then. You couldn’t see him properly in the dim light, but you felt the chill of his gaze as it settled.

“Are you comfortable?” Your hands fiddled with the bag of cookie clutched in front of you as your voice echoed around the room. He said nothing.

Unsure what to do, you took a seat on the top step, opening the cookies and taking one out.

“These are my favourite. When I was younger, I had a terribly good imagination. Still do really.” You began to ramble, needing to fill the silence.

“My issue was my imagination was very good at taking bad things I’d see on tv and such and making them worse. So I’d have a lot of nightmares” You continue, taking a small bite of the cookie.

“So when I’d wake up after a nightmare, my mom would scoop me up and take me down to the kitchen. We’d bake any cookie or cake I wanted, then stay up eating them with milk until I was so full I’d fall asleep” You finish, taking the final bite. The Winter Soldier remained motionless, nothing in his posture showing that he was even listening.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I shouldn’t even be here. Your handlers want me for my powers. Though I’m sure you already know that. You’ve probably been plotting how to get out and take me to Hydra since I was stupid enough to wander in here.” You say, your voice becoming fragile as you thought out loud.

“But I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve decided I’m not going to fear you. You know why?” You ask the motionless man before you.

“Steve doesn’t shut up about you. You’re his best friend. And if he believes the old you is in there somewhere. I’ll believe it too.” You finish, brushing the crumbs off your legs as you got up.

“Goodnight” you say over your shoulder, never looking back at the man in the cell as you left.

A/n: Chapter 3 can be found here

#avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #avengers fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

Part 2

Author's Note: While the first part of this series was intended to be a one shot for a competition, this has already taken on a life of its own. I'm not sure if it's gonna be a mini-series or more, I'm figuring it out as I go.

Description: After a terrifying trip into the castle's basement, Oberyn tells you more about why he's abducted you, and who he is.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, eventual romance, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses, description of foul smells and generally nasty things. 'Tis the season! Word Count: 4346 Author's Masterlist

   Suddenly fighting panic once more, you stumble backwards away from the window, grasping at thin air and trying to remind yourself to breathe through the tightening sensation in your chest.    You’re losing your mind. That’s what this is. He drugged you, or something, there’s no fucking way you just saw a dragon, they don’t exist. It was just a green streak against the white snow, it could’ve been anything.

   But for all the logic in the world, you can’t rationalize this away, for one simple reason: you’ve seen it before.    The dark body that had come at you so fast in those woods, much too big to be any ordinary animal, and with that strange shine to its skin… reflecting even the tiniest of light being refracted off the thick clouds in the night.

   Scales. It had to be. Nothing else that you’ve ever heard of could’ve created that shine.    And then there’s the bite.    Fumbling with your own trembling hands, you struggle to pull your shirt out of the top of your riding jeans, and then yank it over your head to fully inspect both the garment and your shoulder.

   There are perfectly symmetrical punctures in the shape of a long snout over both the back and the front of the short-sleeved polo shirt. Narrowest where it reaches all the way down to your waist but so wide at the top that the creature must’ve bitten into your arm below the sleeve, engulfing not just your shoulder, but everything from the base of your neck out to your entire upper arm.

   It looks much like you’d expect a carnivorous dinosaur bite to look, which is probably as close as you’ll get to a comparison with a dragon. And that’s a difficult sentence to digest having to consider in a factual manner, rather than just playing around with in a hypothetical sense.    But there isn’t a scratch or bruise in your skin, at least not from what you can see.    How is that possible?

   And then a different thought occurs to you, and your fear morphs into something less acute and more chilling.    If the creature left this place, does that mean it lives here, or does it mean that it happened upon this place and decided to check it for edibles?    To your own surprise, your mind immediately goes to Oberyn, imagining him half eaten or torn apart down there, and you’re quite stunned at how that imagery affects you.

   Pulling the shirt back on as you move to the stairs, you don’t bother bringing the candle holder, taking the steps two at a time as you rush down, down, down, round and round from one staircase to the next, cursing the labyrinthian floorplan of the castle and your own lack of spatial perception, until you’re suddenly outside his office again, and grind to a halt.    The door is still open and there’s a fire crackling in there yet, so you step over the threshold and look around.

   There’s no sign of him, which leaves a heavy lump somewhere in your gut. But just as you’re about to leave to keep searching, your eyes fall on something on his desk.    You’d seen it earlier too, not realizing what it was, but now that you take a closer look, you recognize the Egyptian hieroglyphs.    You’re no expert, but the stone tablet looks like a genuine article, which would make it thousands of years old.

   It’s interesting, but not relevant at the moment, so you leave the room and pick a direction, heading right, back towards the stairs but this time you run past them.    You sprint around, whispering his name, looking for other rooms where there might be lights burning or fires lit, but you encounter nothing but closed doors and dark hallways.    Until you decide to try opening a particularly eye-catching door, at the bottom of a narrow and steep staircase.

   There’s no clear reasoning behind why you chose to even head down there, because even the staircase feels ominous. Then again, perhaps that’s exactly why.    Perhaps it’s the fact that the black steel door with the decorative golden embellishments of leaves, vines and grapes, seems entirely out of place in the dark and damp underground setting.

   Oberyn’s voice, warning you to stay away from the basement, rings through your being as you grab the handle and twist it, before gently swinging the door away from you.    It whines briefly as it falls open, and once the corridor behind it is revealed to you, the only thing in the castle you’ve thus far seen to be lit by electric light, you find yourself hesitating to move forward.

   There’s a smell seeping towards you that speaks of filth. Rotting things, blood and other secretions, but also things like mold and sour mud. Something seems to linger in the air beyond the threshold, not wafting out through the open door but strangely contained. You can sense it. Like the shifting pressures of an approaching storm.    And just like the allure of seeing a hurricane with your own eyes might draw you closer to it, the unknown entity you sense tonight, silently beckons you to come.

   You’re halfway through the corridor when you hear it. It sounds like thousands of beetles crawling over each other, and then something growls while another thing snarls. All of which should make you stop, but you keep going.    He’d said that there are cages down here and that the creatures are locked inside. But what creatures?

   There’s a ninety degree turn at the end of the corridor, and the smell that hits you once you round that corner, instantly makes you dry-heave.    The lights are sparse and the few bulbs along the walls aren’t nearly enough to illuminate the entire space, and that’s probably for the best.    Standing halfway bent over at the corner, you turn your head to the side and try to make out what’s causing this retched stench, and then you regret it.

   There are indeed cages lining the walls, all of the same size, roughly the same as most dog kennel cages these days, except that these are cast iron and literally cemented to the floor. Only about half of them are occupied, but to describe the things that occupy them…    Morbid curiosity draws you another few steps further into the room, and then they all seem to notice you at once.

   Suddenly, teeth are scraping against those iron bars, claws are tearing grooves into the floors, and heavy bodies are throwing themselves at the walls of their confines, making the bars sing with vibrations.    The sounds only seem to escalate further the longer you stand there, until you almost need to cover your ears.

   Need drives these mutated and unnatural beings to such extremes that within moments, they’re actually tearing their own skin off against the rough surface of the cages. Then the sickening crunch of teeth breaking away from jaws and bouncing against the floor in front of your feet, is finally too much for your ears, and you cover them.    But the metal-tinged scent of fresh blood still finds your nostrils, as the creatures tear themselves to shreds in their efforts to get to you. And even so, you just stand there, unable to look away.

   Just when you think you might faint from this absolute assault on your senses, someone grabs you and pulls you back towards the corridor.    It seems to take less than a second before you’re back on the other side of the black door, and suddenly, it’s like a spell has been lifted from your mind and body.    No longer drawn by the unseen entity that seemed to beckon you to step into her domain, you feel like a mist has cleared from your brain, allowing you to think and act of your own will once more.

   And the first thing your body does when it’s been freed of this mist, is try and rid itself of the stench that you feel like you’ve somehow absorbed just by being within it. Your stomach turns, but since it’s empty, all that comes out is bile.    Trembling, you fall to your hands and knees, only now realizing that you’re covered in cold sweat.

   “I told you not to go down there after nightfall. The hidden sun somehow makes them… hungrier.”

   His voice seems so soft to your ears after the punishing noise down there. It soothes you, slows your heart and eases your breathing.    You’d been searching for him when you’d ended up going to the basement, for fear that the dragon might’ve harmed him, and it’s a surprisingly massive relief to see that he’s apparently perfectly fine. Not so much as a crease bothering his elegant coat.

   “You’re okay…” you gasp, calmer but still far from calm. “I was looking for you. Something… uh… some thing ran out of the castle, and I didn’t know where you were…”

   You’re busy clambering back up to your feet and trying to wrap your sweat-soaked clothes closer around you, even though it does nothing to warm you, so you only catch glimpses of his expression, but he looks surprised.

   “You were worried about me?” he asks, and he sounds utterly disbelieving.

   And no wonder. He’s your captor, you shouldn’t care about him at all.

   “It looked like…” you start, then pause and shake your head at yourself, knowing how this is gonna sound. “Okay, don’t laugh… but it looked like a dragon.    You know, the Asian kind, all thin and serpentli-…”

   You cut yourself off as the word registers in your brain.

   “A serpent… That’s what you called it. You’ve seen it, haven’t you?” you deduce, stepping closer to him, and he nods slowly.

   But there’s something in is expression that sets off warning bells inside of you. Something almost undetectably evasive.

   “Wait…” you breathe, starting to back away again. “It was running out of here, so, what was it doing here?    Those things in the basement, you’re the one that locked them in there, and you’re keeping them alive. And now there’s a fucking dragon.    Does it come and go as it pleases? Is it bringing you these creatures? What the hell is going on?”

   The hallway is cold and with the dampness of your clothes, you’re shivering like a leaf now. But there’s also a fear in your gut, adding to the unpleasant feeling.    You’ve backed far enough away that he has to follow to be able to talk to you, and for some reason, that kicks your self-preservation instinct on, making you want to flee.    But you don’t, because none of this adds up.

   “The dragon is responsible for what has happened to those mutated beings down there, but I’m not the one keeping them alive. They just keep on living, no matter how badly they injure themselves or how long they go without food or water.    I keep them here because out in the world, they would wreak a havoc unlike anything man has ever seen.    You felt it yourself. The pull.”

   He’s not asking, he knows that you did because he had to drag you away from it.    You stop walking, less frightened now that he’s offering answers.

   “What are they?” you whisper, your voice weakened by the mere imagery of them as it plays back on the insides of your eyes.

   “I don’t know. But I do know what causes the mutation. I’ll tell you, but first you need to warm up and perhaps change out of those clothes.”

   You don’t argue with him on that, your entire body is shaking with the cold sweat that covers your skin. So, he gestures for you to follow him as he leads you through the maze of hallways and random open spaces. He stops after a while and indicates for you to turn into the next opening on your left, and when you do, you find a wide corridor with one white door on each side.

   “The door on your right is a bath. I’ll leave some clean clothes for you just outside the door, and when you’re done, you’ll find me in my study.”

   “I don’t remember how to get there,” you admit, but he doesn’t seem concerned.

   “I’ll leave you a trail to follow. This castle has been partially destroyed and rebuilt countless times over centuries, leaving it with the terrible fate of an incomprehensible floorplan.    I shall have to rebuild it myself should I ever get the notion to try and sell it…”

   He trails off then, seemingly lost in thought, before he catches himself. And you’d swear that he looks a bit embarrassed as he nods and quickly disappears down the hall.    The bathroom is a lot bigger than you’d imagined. There’s no tub, but instead, an entire frickin pool has been built into the floor in the middle of the room, circular and large enough to fit twenty people. It’s already full when you walk in, so you reach down to check the temperature, finding it nice and hot, which is surprising.

   Then again, everything in this place is.

   You check that there are towels available in the closet standing against the opposite wall, delighted to find not only a full stack of them, but dozens of bars of soap as well. You bring one with you, along with a large towel, before you undress, letting your dirty clothes drop into a pile which you then kick away as far as you can.    And then you finally sink into the soothing warmth of the water.

   The disgusting smell of that basement seems to linger on your skin, so you lather up repeatedly, scrubbing yourself as best you can with just your hands, until you’re forced to accept that the hideous odor must’ve infested your nose.    Once you’re clean, you just sit there in the water, warming yourself, but it takes longer than you’d expected before you finally stop feeling cold.    You get out, wrapping the towel securely around yourself before cracking the door open to check if he’s left you any clothes.

   There’s a whole stack of garments out there, so you grab them and bring them to a bench, where you start looking through them.    As far as you can tell, they’re not old, which begs the question: why does he have modern women’s clothing in this ancient castle where there isn’t a hint of a woman’s touch anywhere? Except in the tower. But those clothes really are very old, so that doesn’t track either.

   You pick a pair of black cargo pants that fit you perfectly and are very comfortable. They’re the kind that hikers use, not tight enough to restrict movement but tight enough to sit securely against the skin and not risk getting snagged on things, with strong zippers on all six pockets.    And for your upper body, you dress to stay warm. A long-sleeved t-shirt underneath a microfiber sports jacket with a water-resistant outer layer.

   Of course, you are also thinking of the prospect of escape and the need for good clothes before you can even consider it. But you’re also just not fit enough, or knowledgeable enough about how to survive in the wild, to realistically attempt it.    You’d have to be truly desperate first, and you’re not. Yet.

   Leaving the bath, you find that he has indeed left you a trail to follow, in the shape of small branches of a young fir, which are wide at one end and narrowing towards the other, creating natural arrows, pointing you in the correct direction.    You reach his study after a short walk, finding that you do now recognize the corridor where it is, and how to get to the staircase, which leads back to your tower, from here.

   “Feel better?” your captor asks when you step into the room.

   He’s sitting in the same armchair as before, looking better than any man has a right to while merely occupying a piece of furniture, leaving the sofa to you, so you answer him as you’re moving over to it and taking a seat.

   “Yeah. Thanks. I am curious as to how that water was already warm, though. And where these clothes came from.”

   “I suspected that you might want to clean up tomorrow at the latest, so I’ve had the boiler running ever since this morning. And I bought the clothes for someone else a while back, but she never ended up using them,” he explains, and while you’re tempted to ask about who that other person was, you decide not to.

   “There’s a boiler? Then why’s the whole castle freezing cold?”

   “Because the boiler only heats the bathwater. To heat this entire place would take a small powerplant, not to mention that there’s only electricity in certain places, let alone any built-in heaters or climate control systems.”

   “Right. Sorry,” you say, feeling stupid for not realizing that yourself.

   “There’s no need to apologize, young one. I’m sure that this is all very confusing for you, so let me try and help you make some more sense of it,” he offers, and you feel yourself squaring your shoulders, as if preparing for something.

   But nothing in this world could’ve prepared you for what you’re about to learn.

   “I promised you that I would tell you what I know of the creatures within these walls, and I will. But let me warn you: most of what you’re about to hear, you will not want to believe,” he cautions, and something about his words and his tone makes your throat go dry.

   But you just sit quietly and wait for him to continue.

   “We must start with the dragon, because he is the cause of all this,” he begins, and his voice is soft, but also cautious. “Normally, he will hunt other predators in the woods around the world, eat them, and then remain out of sight until his hunger grows once more. And if he doesn’t exert himself too much, a single meal will keep him strong for as much as three months, so he doesn’t need to hunt very often.”

   “Is that why there are rarely any predators around the seven hills?” you ask before you can stop yourself, but he doesn’t seem bothered by the interruption.

   “Yes. He likes to hunt there because of the terrain. It keeps most humans away except for the trails, which he can easily avoid, and it’s low enough over the ocean that there’s plenty of greenery to conceal him, even around the peaks.”

   “The dragon avoids humans?” you question. “Why? We’re the worst predators there are.”

   “Indeed, but you’re also intelligent pack animals, which means that you will gather and avenge your dead if possible, and that’s a risk he cannot take.”

   “So, he fears humans?”

   “No, not at all. He fears himself, and what he will do to those who provoke him.    You see, the dragon is also intelligent. Moreso than any other animal. And he’s lived for long enough to understand human behavior, for the most part. He knows what happens when he clashes with them, and the outcome is never good for either side.”

   “How do you know all this?”

   He doesn’t answer that at first. He looks away, into the dancing flames within the fireplace and then down on his own shoes for a moment. To your eyes, he looks fearful, which seems strange. Surely, he can’t have anything to fear from you.

   “When I call you young…” he begins after another few beats of silence. “It’s because I am very old in comparison. I have been a companion of this beast for longer than you can imagine.”

   You just stare at him, while his gaze remains on the floor, waiting for your judgement. For you to tell him that you don’t believe him, because why would you?    But while a part of you certainly wants this to be a joke, another part remembers the strange details you’ve seen over the course of this day.

   “The Egyptian stone tablet on your desk,” you start, and he looks up again, meeting your eyes. “It’s not a replica. Is it?”

   He stares at you with an unreadable expression for another several seconds, then he shakes his head.

   “It was all that was left after my home was destroyed.”

   “And… how long ago was that?” you quietly ask, somehow expecting him to lose his temper at any moment.

   “I don’t remember anymore.    There is not much I do remember from that time,” he admits, before closing his eyes and bowing his head slightly. “I know that I was a prince in the lands that you now call Egypt, but I have long since forgotten our name for it. I can still recall my mother’s face, but not her name or the sound of her voice.    I know that a conflict destroyed our home and that our enemy killed her, but I no longer remember the events themselves. The imagery has faded from my mind.”

   You don’t know that much about ancient Egypt, but you know that the civilization is around eight thousand years old, and you’re pretty sure that the hieroglyphs on that tablet are on the older end of that spectrum.    But he can’t possibly be that old.

   “Oberyn?” you call softly, trying to bring him back to the room because he seems to have gotten lost in his memories.

   He opens his eyes and meets yours, and there are tears in his now.

   “My apologies. I do my best to avoid these thoughts most of the time, as they only serve to remind me of my many torments,” he answers, and he sounds as tortured as his words suggest.

   “That’s alright. But what do you mean when you say that you’re the dragon’s companion? What was it doing here?”

   “His life is tethered to mine, and mine to his. That’s as much as I can say about it at this time. However, I can explain how he relates to the creatures in the basement.”

   “I’m listening,” you assure him, and his features soften somewhat, but only for a moment, before they grow tense.

   “The dragon is intelligent, but he is also a beast, and therefor, he has the instincts of one. Much like a bear, a running prey will trigger him to pursue. To hunt. Which is how he’s killed plenty of humans in his lifetime, and why he does all he can to avoid them.”

   “Oh, god… I was running after Casper. He must’ve been nearby.”

   “Yes. He was probably there the entire day, hiding and waiting for the search party to leave, because he knew that there was a bear travelling through the area.”

   “You don’t think that he was the reason for that missing person?”

   “No, I don’t. You are right to question this, though. It’s not at all an impossible scenario. But on this occasion, I believe the beast was innocent, for the simple reason that if he had killed that person, he would not have stuck around afterwards.    Where you’re concerned, I think that he originally went after the horse, but circled back to you since you’re slower and therefor an easier meal.    Like I said, he always tries to expend the least amount of energy he can, to avoid having to feed more often.”

   “Okay, but then, why am I still alive?”

   “Well, that’s the mystery. When the dragon begins to hunt something, he goes into a nearly frantic state of mind, unable to calm himself even if he wants to. Ordinarily, he will never let his prey go.    With one exception.”

   Again, his expression makes you feel like you’re not gonna like where this goes.

   “Sometimes, the initial bite seems to trigger some sort of accelerated genetic reaction within the thing being bitten. The saliva enters the blood of the prey and instead of a neutral reaction, the blood-cells attempt to bond with the foreign substance. But since that’s impossible, what happens instead is an unnatural and damaging mutation.    I keep the creatures that are the results of these reactions, because I’m trying to understand how and why they happen.”

   You do your best to keep your stomach from flipping over again, but you can’t hold back the fear that his words spark within you.

   “Are you telling me that I’m gonna end up like th-…” you can’t even finish the sentence before the horror within your being forces you to your feet.

   Suddenly your skin feels like there’s a thousand bugs crawling inside of it and you pace around the small open area in the center of the room, scratching at your arms and neck, while attempting to fight off a rapidly building panic attack.

   “No, no, please listen to me,” he begs as he rises to his feet and halts you by putting his hands over your upper arms. “If that was going to happen, it already would have. The mutation instantly begins to break down the cellular structure of the prey, leaving them deformed and unrecognizable within a few hours.    You… for some inexplicable reason, are either immune to this mutation, or your body has managed to merge seamlessly with the foreign DNA.    Either way, I cannot let you leave until I know what’s happened to you.”

   “Okay, then test me,” you blurt out, stretching your arms out towards him with the insides of your elbows angled forwards, exposing your veins. “Do whatever you need to, just tell me I’m not gonna end up like those horrible things!”

   Desperation has finally overtaken you, but instead of wanting to run away, you find yourself stepping closer to your captor, pleading without words for him to help you. Tears are suddenly pouring down your cheeks, and painful sobs constrict your chest while strange, half-strangled sounds are clawing past the lump in your throat.    You wrap your arms around him without a single thought inside your head. All you know right now is this crippling feeling, and you need it to go away.

Part 3

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you wish to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

#oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones au #modern!au #halloween writing #spooky season fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #sirowsky stories #pedrostories

[dent-de-leon]

Forever heartbroken at the thought that Lucien was another victim of a hag, at the mercy of someone else's bargain with them--like Beau, like Veth. A deal he never made, but was still forced to pay the price. Even as it tore his family apart. Lucien, young and terrified and wallowing in guilt, haunted for years by all the people he was forced to lead to a little house in the woods. Unable to bear it any longer.

"'We did owe her. Mum and Da did, I mean, but I was the one who paid that blood price.' I'm not surprised you remember the way. His stomach lurched. 'I'd...lure folk out to her cottage. Da would hand me a little paper slip, and whoever it said, I'd convince them to come along, get them near her cottage, and she would charm them. You saw what happens after that.'"

"'We were punished for seeing what they couldn't. After a while I couldn't let it go on, couldn't look at myself or live with myself, so I burned down the caravan with all three of them inside, took my sister, and that was that...No more little songs. No more farces.'"

"If all along her demise only required a dagger to the heart, then why had he let it go on so long? A parade of faces whipped by, and Lucien abruptly had to know, had to see...he raced to the cottage and threw open the door. And there he saw the parade of faces again, lifeless and now stretched..."

Lucien who knows so intimately the same pain of Caleb's past, both of them desperate to do everything they can to turn back time, get their family back. But Lucien's parents never loved him like that, were never the kind and warm family that Caleb had. They abused him and his siblings for years. And then they forced him to be part of their deal with a hag.

And all the while, as a young child Lucien was leading dangerous people deep into the woods all alone, that very same witch always intended to add him to her collection one day too. Lucien's father sends others to their deaths so easily. If the hag had outright asked for his own child instead, would he even care? Because he didn't when the hag made their first son Empty, turned him into a hollow puppet.

And what Azrahari says to Lucien is just so chilling, such a violation of his autonomy. "My beautiful boy...I had hoped to make you mine one day. What a perfect specimen you would have made. Oh, how you would have been merry with laughter and dance..." (And the comment about being beautiful? Can't help remembering Jester calling Lucien dreamy, and how it takes him by surprise. How all his life he was made to feel different, cursed--an outcast--)

Thinking about "no more little songs." Thinking about how much Lucien actually loved the little plays and performances his family put on, still remembers his lines all these years later, still carries a love for song and dance that bleeds into Mollymauk. Molly, who does get to be "merry with laughter and dance," who fills the Emptiness Lucien always so feared with joy and warmth and love.

Making a happy life for himself, taking back the freedom and autonomy the hag and the Eyes all tried to steal from Lucien. And maybe a part of Lucien always recoils from Mollymauk because he reminds him too much of the haunting mirror image the hag tried to make him, the promise of eternal happiness while tying him with puppet strings. Lucien never quite believing that Molly is real or whole or free, that such a charmed life can be anything but a dream--like the one he always chased--

Thinking of how the thing Lucien wanted most was a happy family, the "once upon a time" fairytale life from the stories he always cherished, merry little songs and plays and dance. Stories as an escape, a familiar place of childhood comfort, something to cling to in his darkest moments.

"'Once upon a time, there was a happy family.' (He recognized the sweet, musical voice of Elatis...) 'Mother and Father loved their three children dearly, and they all lived in a green wooden house with tall windows and strong doors. Mother taught the young of a fine, rich family, and Father carved instruments for the kingdom's musicians. They never went hungry, they never quarreled, and their lives were golden for all their days.'"

"'Once upon a time,' he said, eyes open and staring across the dome gathering snow. 'There was a happy family, and they were that way for a little while. Something tore them apart from the inside out...There was a happy family, and then it was gone.'"

"Once upon a time, there was a happy family... In the dream they would be whole again. In Cognouza, it would all be fixed...He told himself it wasn't too far gone, then pulled his shoulders back and clawed raw wounds down his monstrous face, smiling all the while, his teeth becoming fangs becoming tusks. Once upon a time..."

Thinking of how it's ultimately the Moonweaver who's able to make those dreams a reality, who gives them the second chance he's always begged for. "Once upon a time--" "Twice upon a time--" "Thrice upon a time--" When a part of him became Molly. When the two of them become Kingsley.

"'Once upon a time,' she says, then her milk-white eyes pop upon in surprise and she giggles. You want to stay here forever, in her odd, forever-moving sensuality. 'No, twice upon a time. Now we can begin. Begin again, I mean.'"

"Here we go: Once upon a time, twice upon a time. She pauses and giggles. 'Thrice upon a time, f--' Her white brow furrows. 'Hang on. What comes after thrice? Does anyone know?...Isn't that the strangest thing? There is nothing after thrice in the sequence, it just ends there. But that doesn't seem right, does it? Or fair. Well. I think we shall just have to make it up."

Thinking about a young and terrified tiefling whose parents handed him over to a witch, who was offered the illusion of happiness and freedom again and again, but always it came with chains. Who always feared becoming Empty, who was almost made into a doll, a puppet, a hollow shell for a hag's entertainment, something to put on display like a grisly trophy, to puppet the strings like a marionette. Thinking about a goddess of Love who cradled this wounded soul in her arms, cut him free and sang him songs, made him the beloved king of a fairytale--

#mollymauk #lucien tavelle #sorry i am once again compromised by the nine eyes book and how much love lucien and molly both had to give #the fact that a hag tried to make him into a puppet is still just so haunting to me and just #im so glad that lucien ended her because it is terrifying to think of her waiting in the savalirwoods for molly to return #and if the nein meet isharnai again? I wonder if king will get back some painful memories about hags in the woods and deals and debts-- #also something about how upset lucien is when the hag wont fight and how he doesn't like seeing people suffer or give in and just #lucien--

[ofsappho]

treehouse chapter 29 (tumblr version)

🔞 Dream of the Endless I Lord Morpheus x reader 🔞

Unplanned pregnancy, SMUT. 8.5k words of sin.

crossposted to AO3 (want to read the whole story? click here)

-

You run and Morpheus goes after you. Tags under read more. posted here for the folks who want the smut without wading through a ton of plot.

-

SMUT TAGS:

primal kink, hide and seek/running and hunting, CNC, consent check ins, aftercare, tentacles if you squint, one sided hate sex (she hates him, he loves her)

Reader POV:

You stop screaming about halfway down once you realize that you’re not falling - you’re floating. Like a fucking flower petal.

You land feet-first on the soft, green grass outside the castle and promptly ruin everything by stumbling to your knees, scraping your skin raw and red against the dirt. It’s not your fault. Flying wasn’t on the fucking agenda.

The storm above roils with flashes of sickly yellow lightning and sullen, moody clouds.

Anger bleeds from you like the slit throat of the man you murdered. The feeling clings to your skin, warming you against the tempest’s chill.

It’s been a very long time since you’ve punished someone other than yourself, and you lust half-starved for Morpheus’s misery, for the chance to try your freshly-blooded canines.

As you get to your feet, the fog surrounding you lifts just enough to show flashes of a thick, thorny wood up ahead. A forest fashioned from charcoal shadows and long, spindly branches with no leaves. Not trees, only their skeletons.

It will do. Does the dried blood on your shirt make you some kind of morbid Little Red Riding Hood? If that’s the case, the Big Bad Wolf always dies in the end. Perfect.

Without looking back, you sprint for it.

-

Lucienne POV

While Lucienne’s life has become more exciting since Lord Morpheus decided to make you his business, it certainly hasn’t gotten easier.

After all, what is his business is her business. Therefore, you and your relationship are her business.

She was doing a perfectly acceptable job managing everything, she thinks to herself somewhat crossly, until the two of you decided to make her life worse.

But while she doesn’t understand why you are trying to escape when you will never, ever make it out of this realm without the Lord’s permission, she accepts that it is not her place to question such… obscure, esoteric decisions and seeks to assist you as requested. To an extent.

Why, is Lord Morpheus’s coat on fire? Lucienne hasn’t seen him so worked up since Rose Walker. Not even then. “Where is she?” He demands, using the rolling thunder and howling wind as his voice.

Play dumb. “…Who is ‘she,’ my lord?” Lucienne winces. Perhaps not that dumb.

Though none of the books can catch fire, as they are not written upon flammable, single-use Waking-world paper, Lucienne resists the urge to beat the hem of his flaming robe away from the stacks of parchment and dream-paper. Call it a librarian’s force of habit.

“My- my intended.” The king’s glare would put the fear of the Endless in any lesser being.

But Lucienne is no lesser being. In fact, she’s rather put out at the complete absence of decorum Lord Morpheus has seen fit to show… this entire debacle.

Sneaking around like a common thief? Lying to you, keeping you completely unaware of the station that he has elevated you to? Casting disgrace and disrepute on the Dreaming and its people by terrifying you of it so?

Lord Morpheus practically dragged you here stark naked and screaming, for all intents and purposes.

And to add insult to injury, he dares to act as though she should be thrilled to debase herself before him.

“I don’t recall ever meeting your intended, my king. You must forgive me,” Lucienne snaps, peering at the figure on fire over the tops of her spectacles.

She is not so decrepit as to misremember when Lord Morpheus formally put forth his suit for the Lady Calliope.

Every realm and kingdom rang with it. Lord Morpheus brought the Lady Calliope in full honor through the Gates of Horn and Ivory, in a gleaming chariot of gold drawn by Helios’s horses covered in rose garlands.

In Lucienne’s unasked opinion, it is the height of disrespect on her Lord’s part to deprive you of such honors. She’s not surprised you’ve rejected him, and neither should he.

His flaming cloak flares blue, leaving holes in the carpet. Repairing them will significantly inconvenience Merv. They may need to replace the whole floor at the rate their king is going. What a pointless waste of a good carpet.

“You are my Vizier. You are my right hand. If you cannot tell me where that woman is, I will throw you out that window myself. And then I shall strip you of your position and seal, and set the hounds of Hell on what remains of you.”

Lucienne doesn’t think it’s nearly that serious. But then again, she has never been in love like Lord Morpheus loves, nor has she misstepped the way Lord Morpheus perennially steps on cracks in concrete.

In her mind, Lucienne apologizes to you. She hoped to grant you a little more time. “She went that way,” Lucienne says, gesturing to the Great Beyond on the outskirts of the kingdom. Hopefully, you’ve made it far enough to enact whatever chaotic scheme you’re brewing.

“Good luck, Lord Morpheus!” He’ll need it.

Lucienne watches the king disappear without a word of thanks. Once she’s sure that he’s gone, she goes to inspect the damage to the library.

Her earlier fears were warranted; the carpet is done for, along with a few floorboards. They’re singed to a crisp, filling the air with an acrid, burnt stink. With a long, suffering, frustrated sigh, Lucienne summons the pumpkin-headed caretaker.

-

Reader POV

Your shoes-

They’re getting in the way. The laces have come undone, and you trip over them, then over a series of tree roots rippling above the ground.

When you kick them off in an impulsive, frustrated fit, you expect the ground to be full of sharp things, thorns, jagged pebbles, and maybe even a few bones.

Your feet instead sink into pillowy-soft dirt. As soon as your toes go near a twig, the hard edges around it blunt until it metamorphoses into a blade of tender young grass. The pebbles turn into balls of fuzzy moss, and upon closer inspection, the bones are oddly shaped mushrooms.

So Lucienne was telling the truth when she said nothing in this place could hurt you.

The wind picks up, blowing your hair around your face in a halo and rustling through the leaves in a high, wailing sound, screeching like a pulled fire alarm left too long.

The hairs on your arms stand, and goosebumps trail down your spine.

As you start to run again, you wonder if you’re not only hearing the wind but also some wounded creature crooning and crying out for help.

It’s coming from behind you, from the castle.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

You feel a cramp open up in your side from running so hard, from panting and clawing for oxygen to keep you upright and moving.

The forest goes on and on, a never-ending series of towering, menacing dead trees with gaping shadows and a horizon that grows increasingly distant no matter how far you go.

Fragments of dried bark dig into your palm as you brave yourself on a withered tree trunk.

Run.

You lurch a few feet forward.

The shadows grow maws. They grow fangs. They nip at the backs of your heels.

Morpheus is coming for you.

Everything aches, but you keep going. Your stomach grows nauseous, but you keep going.

The sky above you turns a sickly shade of blue-gray, a horrible warning sign for the torrent of freezing rain about to accompany your desperate, hunted flight.

He will catch you, stick his claws in your back, and parade you through that grand palace in chains.

Or not.

Morpheus says he loves you. Look at what you’ve done with your love for him. No chains are needed for the dead.

But who knows?

You don’t. You do know better than to hope.

That thought carries you just a little further. No matter how weary or wounded you become, you’ll never stop fighting for yourself or your baby bird.

Your heart pounds in your chest like a war drum, and your blood sings in your veins.

You flee past two trees, then three, then four. Their long arms beckon you to turn down one of their dark, haunted paths, to put your back to the horizon and lose yourself in the underbrush like a rabbit running straight into a trap.

You cling to slivers of gold and orange sunbeams peeking through the branches with all the dying hope you can dredge up. The edge of the forest isn’t that far away. You’ll feel the sun on your face and outrun the storm in a moment.

A twig snaps.

Something takes a step. It breathes.

At the corner of your eyes, the shadows pulse and twist. 

So he’s found you. You never truly thought you’d make it out of here, but disappointment weighs on your chest like a brick pulling you into the depths of a cold, unforgiving lake. The forest may have had no end, and you were only deluding yourself that it did.

The scent of salt and ice is so heavy in the air that you can taste frozen crystals forming on the roof of your mouth, briny with a tinge of iron.

A dark, endless void of shadows blocks your path, reaching the top of the stormy sky. “Boo.” Morpheus wears a disgusting smile filled with sharp white teeth. It makes you feel things. Abject terror. The impulse to drop to your knees and beg for mercy. And a sick, sadistic heat under your skin.

He came hunting.

You love it.

He wears a red flush on his stark white cheeks as if chasing you took effort. “Dream.” The show is appreciated, even though you both know his godly biology doesn’t work like that. A+ for effort.

It enhances the glowing blue of his irises, like twin stars shining bright in his face against the rich obsidian cloak with a smoking hem flaring around his shoulders. He is a stained glass painting of an archangel, and you are the creature of clay and Adam’s blood barred from Heaven.

You watch the razor edge of his teeth sink into his bottom lip with a feeling reminiscent of envy rotting in the pit of your stomach.

His voice has the sensuality of freshly carded silk brushing over bare skin. “How on earth did you find yourself out here, beloved? These woods are dangerous. They say there is a monster here that eats pretty girls.” Morpheus tilts his head slightly, and his smirk widens.

Your rust-colored nails flex and dig into the hem of your sweater. “Do you get many of those passing through?” You snark back. If I’m so special, prove it. Do what you wouldn’t do for a goddess, or a queen, or a star.

Unfortunately, the blow doesn’t land. He acts like you’re the only person he’d come for. “None as pretty as you. So what are you doing alone? My lady, I’d be delighted to lead you back to the castle. You’re shivering.” There is a grating, patronizing indulgence in his tone. He’s fucking humoring you. He knows you’re full of shit and that no matter how hard you deny it, his feelings are a truth you can’t sully.

That doesn’t mean you’ll give up. “I’m not going back.” How far can you go before Morpheus turns away? How terrible and cruel and horrible can you be before he decides you’re not worth the trouble?

You want- no, need to find out.

It’s only fair. You have suffered, and you never stopped loving him. Let Dream suffer and see if his love endures, if he’s even half the person you are.

In the blink of an eye, the shadows disappear as if they were never there. “Anything could happen to you. Some fiend could carry you off-“ Morpheus says evenly as his cloak shifts into the elegant coat you adore.

Now, he is but a beautiful stranger in the woods. Your clothes are a weak, flimsy barrier to his searching, heated gaze, trailing intimately over the full curves of your body and your rounded belly.

Has Morpheus read your mind and revealed your own brutal desire concealed in your skull like a minefield waiting to explode? “You’ve already done that.” Maybe he didn’t need to. You’ve given yourself away in your dilated pupils, and how you gave up on running as soon as you got what you wanted.

“Hurt you-“ Dream ignores your provocation as he spreads his long-fingered hands, showing he holds no weapon or trick.

For every step he takes towards you, you take one back. “You also already did that,” You frostily remind him.

Morpheus’s coat would irritate you less if it were cast off on the ground and crushed into the dirt along with the rest of his clothes. His hair would be prettier fucked up and tugged between your fingers. You might be able to stand the sight of his mouth better if it were bleeding and bruised from your teeth.

The corner of his mouth ticks up as his eyes gleam with mischief. “Or dishonor you, right here. Who would hear you scream?” He backs you against a tree, and the bark snags your sweater. “Nobody,” Morpheus leans in to whisper. His collarbones peek out of the neckline of his shirt, as delicately articulated as the hollow bones of a bird.

Heat stirs in your blood at the sight.

You felt good watching that man die for Morpheus. And then empty, dreadfully empty. “Don’t touch me,” You hiss, more of a challenge than a deterrent. You want to feel good again.

Morpheus could make you feel good again.

A black shade knocks on your skull at the edges of your vision and politely asks to be let in. Your eyes roll back as it walks through the door you’ve opened inside of yourself and sees what you define as ‘good.’

“…Is that what you really want, darling?” Dream asks, both mocking your resistance and subtlety, softly acknowledging what he found behind your eyes.

Bile builds in your mouth. No. No softness. He has no right. “Why would I ever let you near me again? You are a liar and a fucking dick,” You hiss venomously before gathering saliva and spitting straight into his face.

Morpheus blinks a few times, his eyes round and blameless. “I love you.” For a single breathless second, you don’t hate him, and he never hurt you. You’re two children playing tag in the grass or tackling each other into the dirt.

You snap out of it. “Fuck off.” You feel a thousand degrees hotter. Sticky sweat gathers under your clothes along the heavy curve of your breasts and clings to the small of your back.

He braces one muscled arm on the tree above you and leans in to take in the scent of your hair, so close that his lips almost skim the shell of your ear. “I adore you like this. Fighting me, fighting yourself. It’s charming.” You shiver, unable to stop yourself from reacting.

He’s not touching you. When he exhales, you feel his breath pass over your cheek. He takes a step closer, looming tall and majestic over you. Morpheus delicately pins his arm on your other side, effectively boxing you in.

But he’s still not touching you.

You swallow quickly.

“I’m not fucking doing it for your benefit. Can’t you take a hint? I said no. You have shown me amply this past month how little of a fuck you give. So why don’t you keep doing that and go the fuck away?”

Despite his best efforts at seeming harmless, you can’t shake the impression of his wild, almost-inhumanly blue eyes and too-gaunt cheekbones, like a wraith wearing an angel’s wings.

His eyes trail over your flushed cheeks and the pink of your tongue as you lick your lips.

He reaches out to cradle your face before pulling his hand back when he sees you lean in. “Ah, so this is a test. You want to see how far I’m willing to go. You want to see what I’ll do for you, how long I’ll wait, and how much patience I have,” Morpheus murmurs in a voice as soft as fog.

You should-

You should tell him that he’s got it all wrong. You should tell him that you’ll never forgive him and there’s nothing he can do. You’ve made up your mind and hardened your heart.

“And if it is?” 

He kisses you.

The worst part is that you let him.

Morpheus’s hands clutch you against him, your belly brushes his coat, his lips are warm and inviting, and he kisses you like he’s waited his whole long immortal life to do it. His tongue brushes yours, drawing a quiet moan from you. He tastes like salt and musk, and your arms circle his neck, pulling him further into your kiss.

“Then I look forward to passing it,” Morpheus says breathlessly as he breaks away, pressing his forehead to your temple as if nothing is wrong.

With strength you didn’t know you had, you take him by the lapels of his coat and shove him back. Fuck him. Fuck this.

You turn and run before he realizes what’s happening. Panic isn’t egging you on anymore - it’s your fury, smothered slightly but not anywhere near finished. Oh no, you’re not fucking done with Morpheus. You want to see him draped in your agony, you want the light in his eyes extinguished.

You don’t make it two feet. Darkness wraps you up in a warm, gentle embrace, blocking out the whole world other than Dream, watching you struggle with his arms crossed over his chest.

Shadows thread around your wrists, pinning them behind your back. “Running away again? I’ll always catch you, and you’ll never escape.” Morpheus runs a finger along your jawline. His skin feels cool, and the touch is far too tender.

“You don’t know half of what I’m capable of.” Your glare would singe his stupidly immaculate hair off if it could.

His finger trails down your throat and hooks in the neckline of your bloody sweater, pulling it slightly away from your body. “I think I do. I think I know you better than anyone else, dead or alive.” For every ounce of your poison, Dream gives you back steady, unwavering adoration, tugging on the sweater without shying from the stains.

When the damned thing gives, you’re not even that upset. It falls to the ground in two pieces, leaving you in your tank top and pants.

“What the fuck?” You squirm in your makeshift binds, trying and failing to find a sharp edge you could use to convince him to release you.

“That divine mouth of yours may lie, but this,” Morpheus hisses as he rests his palm at the base of your throat to feel your blood rush crazed and wild at his touch. “This doesn’t.” The corner of his mouth turns up as you moan, reluctantly eager for him to tighten his grasp just a little more.

Morpheus tuts before releasing your throat.

Before your feelings smart from the loss, his shadows pluck at the straps of your tank top. “How fucking dare you? Get off of me.”

“But I don’t want to,” Morpheus parries in a high-pitched, playfully mocking tone.

Oh, he has a goddamn death wish. “Do you think I care?” When one of the shadowy tendrils tries to sweep lovingly across your cheek, you bite it. Hard. It tastes like fresh snow. You far prefer it to Desire’s sickly-sweet flesh.

With a single flick of his hand, he makes a deep crimson mark appear on his throat, a perfect image of the imprint of your teeth. Morpheus tilts his face as proudly as if he were wearing a crown.

“I’ve thought about having you like this, bare in our home, ever since I left you.” He rids you of your pants with surgical precision, casting the shreds of rust-speckled fabric somewhere, never to be found again. As Morpheus turns to your tank top, his shadows tighten their grip on your hands, pushing your chest forward.

You watch the intelligence and rational thought die in his eyes when he sees your breasts free of clothing, hanging round and heavy in the cool air.

“What? You’ve never seen my boobs before?” You snarl after growing tired of a full minute of speechlessness.

Your dark binds tug you back and back until you find yourself held upright by a tree trunk.

Dream delicately sweeps strands of your hair away from your throat so he can see without obstruction. “They’re… they’re bigger,” He whispers hoarsely. His fingers pause in their exploration of your sternum long enough to feel your pulse thudding under your skin.

Then he covers one of your breasts with his palm. You hear him groan under his breath when he realizes there’s far too much you for one of his hands. “I distinctly, intimately, precisely remember the shape and size of yours, and they’ve grown…” His fingers knead your soft breasts slowly, relieving a tenderness you didn’t even know you had.

There’s absolutely nothing sacred or respectful in his eyes glittering like sapphires. He only has a wolf’s hunger for a rabbit for you.

And then his face is pressed to the crook of your neck, his lips moving on the column of your throat as he runs a thumb over your nipple once, twice.

His touch feels different. Maybe he’s fucking with your head, or maybe being pregnant has done something to your nerves. Every little movement feels like too much pleasure and not enough of it at the same time.

Heat washes through you, blooming from his mouth and his hands to pour into your belly. “Fuck, you’re so fucking creepy, oh-“ You gasp, hating how much your body craves him.

Your underwear sticks to your thighs as you shift in search of a position that lessens the ache in your core.

Your head falls against the tree as you writhe in his hold. He runs his nails along the curve of your breast, greedily soaking in your every whimper and how you jolt, unconsciously arching closer.

You feel Morpheus lick a hot line along your throat. “Sensitive.” His other hand clutches your waist, your round hips, then palms your ass. A contented groan rumbles deep in his chest.

In revenge, you tug fervently at his coat, getting it about halfway down his strong shoulders before you start clawing at his shirt. The fabric disappears beneath your fingers, leaving him as bare-chested as you.

Instead of avoiding your nails, Morpheus encourages you to carve gilded furrows into his back. “I’m sorry, I cannot- I can’t help myself,” He says, far too pleased with himself to mean that stupid apology. 

You look down to see what’s captured his attention now, only to find your tits littered with fingerprint bruises.

That sudden movement displeases him, and he pins you against the tree with a hand on your throat. “Beautiful. And when I…” When he leans down to take one of your nipples into his hot mouth and sucks, bolts of lightning dance and fizz under your skin, electrifying every nerve.

Your hips tremble and push towards him as your dripping cunt pulses and flexes around nothing. “Stop it,” You moan, trying to shove him away yet only managing to tangle your fingers in his hair. Then he switched to your other breast, kissing and lapping at the hypersensitive skin. “Oh God.” You give up fighting for a moment, too caught up in the sensations to care about your pride.

Morpheus barely has to apply the slightest pressure with his knee for your legs to part.

His fingers drag along your inner thighs to capture the arousal leaking through your panties. Before you get the chance to feel ashamed, Dream sucks his shiny fingers into his mouth, savoring your taste with an almost-blissful glaze across his eyes.

With his lips still coated in you, Morpheus looks like the very picture of sin.

After he’s cleaned his fingers, he runs them along the soaked cloth covering your cunt, pressing down just enough to tease. “You’re so needy, my love. I’m horribly cruel, aren’t I, letting you suffer in this state without my assistance.” You grind your hips against his hand, trying to get him to do something about your needy, swollen clit, desperate for relief.

He tastes like salt and sex when he kisses you. “I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.” Morpheus tears through your underwear like ripping paper. He works your clit with his thumb until you’ve soaked his palm and then slides a single finger into your pussy. Without waiting for you to adjust, he sinks in a second finger knuckle-deep.

You cry out, shaking like a leaf, as your core spasms and milks his digits. You thought that could satisfy the ache but it barely scratches the surface. You need more-

You take his chiseled face between your hands and drag him down for another kiss. “I literally despise you.” To spite him further, you mulishly keep your mouth shut as he starts fucking you with his long fingers. 

It turns out that your stifled whines aren’t needed. Your wet cunt more than makes up for it. Loud, soaked squelches echo, and your legs shut to hide the sounds. That only forces Dream’s fingers deeper into your pussy and grinds your throbbing clit into his palm.

You can’t stay quiet a second longer, not as your stomach tightens and tears gather in your eyes from the rush. Those breathless, pathetic noises are all yours, and Morpheus answers them with a breathless laugh.

He keeps up a steady rhythm, carefully and precisely aiming for that sensitive spot deep inside that drives you fucking insane. “You want me to be the villain? Is that it?”

You sink your teeth into his shoulder as deep as they’ll go as your thighs shake, ecstasy rushing painfully through your muscles.

His eyes burn a brighter shade of sapphire when you bite him again. “You wish for me to be cruel? To torment you?” Morpheus wraps his other arm around your hips to help you fuck yourself on his digits. “No, beloved. I won’t,” He purrs in your ear and then kisses away the sweat from your brow.

“Go fuck yourself, Morpheus. I hate you. I hate you,” You chant in a trembling, weak voice. He doesn’t need to help you anymore, you’re shamelessly riding his hand and dripping slick to the ground.

“And I love you.”

You cry out at his words. They fucking- they do something that makes you feel hotter, more sensitive, drives you closer to the edge.

“I want- that’s it, my darling. You’re close. I can feel it.” Your pussy quivers repeatedly as the tension in your belly grows unbearable. He quirks his fingers, hitting that sensitive place as he rocks your puffy clit into his palm.

Your body is betraying you, and you’re just fucking letting him ruin you. “No. No. No, fuck- no, I’m not,” You try, blubbering denials through cries of pleasure.

Morpheus fucks into you faster, harder, matching the pace your hips set. “Tell me what you need. Use me for your pleasure, beloved.” Fuck. Fuck. You’re going to-

Your knee slides up a little, giving him more room to stretch your tight cunt further. “Come for me. I know you want to.” His tone is soft and affectionate, calling to you sweeter than a siren’s song. It tells you to give in and promises unimaginable bliss if you do.

You come with your eyes rolled back and your mouth open, shuddering, your hips jerking on his fingers, and waves of hot flame pouring down your spine.

Your orgasm fucking drenches his fingers and your muscles clamp down tighter, each vicious pulse so strong that you taste iron in the back of your mouth. All you can hear is your heartbeat, loud and insistent, and the low sound of Morpheus’s approval. You’re wracked with pleasure, wholly gone to anything else.

Just before the feeling dwindles, Dream slides his fingers out of your swollen folds, forcing you to finish coming on nothing. “That’s it. There you go. Good girl,” He says with a smile. Your frustrated wail fills the air, and you clutch at his wrist, wordlessly begging for more. “I’m not so loathsome now, hm?” Morpheus showers your face with delicate kisses, pausing only to clean a tear from your cheek with light kitten-licks.

The two of you rest there for a moment. You’re slumped between him and the tree, panting and spent and warm, while he gently rubs your back, waiting for you to catch your breath.

Once Morpheus deems you suitably recovered, he traces the marks he scattered on your chest. He smears the slick gathered on his hand across your nipples, then bends down to lick your juices from your skin. The feeling of him mouthing your tits, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping and biting, overwhelms you, and your knees buckle.

Morpheus catches you and lowers you to the ground. Dried leaves find their way into your hair and crunch under your back as you stretch out like a lazy cat.

“I have a feeling that I’d be able to make you come simply from playing with your breasts,” He murmurs as he kneels between your open legs before laying another series of kisses over the bite marks. “My lady, you are truly the most sublime creature I’ve ever touched.”

You roll your eyes and half-heartedly push his head away. “Yeah, well, you’ll be lucky if I let you near them again.” His hair feels soft and downy under your fingers like the underbelly of a bird. That’s another thing to resent him for. Why can’t he be ugly with bad hair?

Dream’s canines leave imprints in your hand when he bites, clearly communicating how he feels about being denied access to you. “We’re just getting started, darling. Your game isn’t over.” 

You look up at his fair, radiant face, shining brighter than a full moon, and his mouthful of nightmarish, fanged teeth, and wonder for the first time if this was a mistake.

That’s how you find yourself riding his face while being forced toward your third orgasm of the night.

The second orgasm passed by in a shimmering haze of heat and lust.

Morpheus pulled you astride his shoulders without fanfare, clamped his hands around your plump thighs, and dragged your sensitive cunt onto his open, wet, and waiting mouth. You hit and kicked, you even tried forcing his head back with a fist in his dark hair, but he gave you the most glorious and beguiling grin at the sudden violence. You couldn’t give him any more satisfaction, so you had to let go and let him do… what he wanted.

Hands made of antimatter gripped your hips and held you upright by your hair. He thumbed your swollen folds, carefully tracing around your clit but never touching it. You weren’t able to look into his eyes from this position - your belly was just large enough to hide most of his face when you were on top. But you had a pretty good guess about how he felt about your wet cunt dangling before his lips, like fruit to be easily plucked, split open, and devoured. You heard him fucking whimper, a stupidly arousing, frustrated sound, and then his arms forced you down.

It took Dream no time to make you crumble like a deck of cards. He lapped his tongue through your folds, smearing your arousal over his lips, before working carefully on your reddened clit. Morpheus’s strong hands endured your desperate attempt to escape him by clutching you tighter.

He sucked on your bundle of nerves once, then twice. You tried to tell yourself mind over matter, that if you focused hard enough, you could ignore the pleasure rippling through you.

Of course, that meant you came so suddenly that your stomach tied itself into knots, and your spasming, throbbing cunt soaked his face. The waves snatched every scrap of air out of your lungs, so you couldn’t even plead for mercy or cry out. You gasped, hunched over with hair in your face, silently screaming and shivering, as your brain turned to slush and your eyes glazed over.

Now, Dream takes sadistic pleasure in teasing that third orgasm out and denying it to you every single fucking time.

There’s an obscene squelch when he thrusts two fingers into your cunt, finally filling the awful, hollow ache. “Fuck, fuck, oh my God, Morpheus… please…” You babble, mindlessly grinding down on his tongue.

He takes his mouth off you and slowly strokes his digits inside you, far too gentle to get you off. “Please what? Please what?” Morpheus mocks as you almost collapse into the shadows, letting them take your full weight.

You try to hide your mewls by biting on your lips and end up cutting yourself, fresh blood joining the fine layer of sweat covering your face and body. “Stop, I’m- it’s too much. You have to stop.” You have no fucking clue what you’re begging for anymore. You’re dumb to it all, helpless and panting and begging for the fever that rises every time he drags the tips of his fingers over your g-spot.

A shadowy tendril wipes the blood from your chin before crawling into your mouth, gagging you so you can’t bite yourself anymore.

More tendrils curl around your breasts and pluck at your hardened, swollen nipples. “You need more? Is that what I’m hearing? Does my lady want more?” Now he matches the rhythm of his fingers with kisses along your shuddering thighs, occasionally pausing to suck and lap at the juices covering your skin.

The tendril in your mouth dissipates into smoke so you can answer. “No, shit, aaah-“ Strands of your hair stick to your cheeks as you writhe and gasp for air.

Morpheus tries to withdraw his fingers to deny you again, tease you again, punish you again, but you’re having none of it. You blindly reach down, grab his slick hand, and urge it back towards your greedy pussy.

He laughs roughly, then kisses your hip with petal-soft lips as he obeys. “That’s it, darling. Does it feel good yet?” Fuck. Fuck. It does. You’re so full, your core flutters and milks his digits, but it’s not right or enough to satisfy the burning wildfire of desire that’s driving you mad.

You shake your head to try and get some control back, to clear your head. All you want is to just- just to give in, let him have you, let him replace every thought and word and will with himself. “No,” You stutter through slightly numb lips, your eyelashes trembling.

Your nails find his wrist and dig in as deep as they can go.  Shimmering gold blood coats your thighs, and the mess gets worse and worse when Morpheus starts to bounce you on his face, eagerly drinking from your creamy folds.

“Go on. You can tell me. I know you fucking love this. Just like you love me.” As Dream is far too busy eating you out like he’s starving to lift his mouth, his voice is muffled by the slick, disgusting sounds of his tongue, his fingers, your cunt.

“I… I…” You scrabble for purchase in the dark, searching for something to hold onto, anything that can stabilize you. The hands that intertwine with yours aren’t the ones kneading your ass or fucking you into oblivion, but they’re just as reassuring as Morpheus’s real hands.

His mouth works your clit, getting rougher, messier, sucking harder. “Sweet girl, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed your noises and, fuck, the taste of you. And this pretty, pretty cunt. So sensitive. Delicious.” Dream braces one hand on your lower belly, just above your core, applying faint pressure to heighten the sensations.

“But I need you to come. Please, my darling. Please,” He moans against your puffy folds, forcing in a third finger as you wail and thrash.

Just like that, you’re shoved off the cliff, screaming and sobbing. Tears cover your cheeks as your hips move on their own, wrenching out every last bit of pleasure you can. It hurts so fucking much yet feels so fucking good. Static electricity arcs through your limbs, and even the faintest breeze whispering across your bare back makes your overstimulated core flicker and squeeze his fingers harder.

His shadows lovingly lower you to the ground, helping you curl on your side around your rounded tummy. Exhaustion filters in slowly, wrapping you in a gossamer blanket of numbness and calming your frazzled nerve endings.

Dream is there. Dream is curling protectively around your shaking form, he slides an arm under your neck to support your head, and his other hand squeezes the back of your neck. You bury yourself in his embrace and let him rock you like a child.

Here, stitched as close to him as you can be, the horrible past forty-eight hours starts to be less horrible and more foggy, like looking at something in the rear-view mirror as you drive away.

You can let yourself love him in this moment. You can be weak for a little while longer.

When you lay your palm against his heart, you feel it thudding as furiously as your own.

Morpheus exhales slowly as the feeling of you in his arms leeches the tension from his muscles. Even if you wanted to push him away, which you don’t, you wouldn’t have the strength to do it. So, for now, you’ll let him keep you here.

He kisses you as many times as he can, everywhere he can reach. Your baby hairs, your smile lines, the corners of your eyes.

Before Morpheus wipes your cheeks clean of tears, he cleans his fingers off with his tongue. Then he’s stroking away the stinging salt water dotting your skin. A furrow grows on his smooth, unwrinkled brow out of concentration.

When you start crying again out of relief, hiccuping ungracefully and snot going everywhere, his large hand tucks you into the crook of his neck. “I’m so sorry. I know, I know,” Morpheus soothes. “Do you want us to be done now? Are you finished?” He’s warmer than a furnace, and you instinctively wrap an arm around his waist and shove your feet between his calves, seeking that comfort with single-minded determination.

His small chuckle is as sweet and fragile as spun sugar.

You absentmindedly trace the veins crawling up the back of his hand as you think.

Then your anger begins to grow back, rotting through your lungs and making each breath taste like death, and you have your answer. “I want… don’t make me say it, Morpheus,” You mutter into his skin and follow it with a tiny, tiny bite, more of a nip than anything else.

This time, when Morpheus unfurls the petals of your mind, you anticipate it eagerly.

You want him, and you loathe it, and it’s choking you. “I should. I ought to make you beg on your knees,” He tells you.

You need him to cut the strife and self-loathing from your chest and smooth out your riled, tangled heartstrings, and then put you back together again. He has to pluck the violence out of your hand as if it were a knife and point it somewhere it can’t hurt you, ideally towards himself.

Dream goes quiet. He pets your hair and rests his cheek against your forehead. You’re beginning to think the softness isn’t just for your benefit; he’s drinking his fill to tide him over until the next time you let Dream touch you like this.

And there will be a next time, a gentle, honey-sweet next time. That promise runs true in your mind, buried deep beneath the layers of poison and resentment like a vein of untouched gold.

His star-filled eyes flutter shut. “Fine. Fine. I can’t deny you anything. Just a little further, and then you can rest.” When they open, his pupils twist and stretch into a monstrous, serpentine gash of black against his brilliant blue irises.

“N- no more?” You hear yourself ask for mercy, easily slipping into the role of the maiden to his beast.

Morpheus rises on his knees and hovers over your vulnerable form. “No more, my love. Can you be brave like I know you are? Can you take it for me?” He asks as the fingers stroking your cheek turn into obsidian claws for a moment.

You are not supposed to find this attractive. You’re meant to be terrified right now, unwilling, pushing him away with conviction of any kind.

“…Yes.” Yes. Take me. A warm, needy craving makes you draw up your knees to conceal your filthy, ruined cunt, glistening with fresh arousal.

The claws metamorphize into fingers before the sharp edges can slice your skin. Morpheus is no less intimidating without them, looking down at you like you’re a pretty toy in his palm. You’ll miss them, though, and you swallow your disappointment before he notices.

He lifts you from the ground before gently turning you until you face away, unable to see him while he can control all of you. “That’s it, beloved. On your knees, arch your back.” The stoic, hardened mask cracks slightly as he runs an open palm up and down your body, inevitably running into the baby in your belly. You’re surprised he lasted so long without asking about it.

Maybe Morpheus didn’t think he had the right to until now.

Your back presses into his broad, muscled chest. “May I?” He asks before slowly kissing your neck. His hair tickles your earlobe, and you feel a soft puff of air ghost over your skin when he exhales.

“Our baby.” You even surprise yourself by resting his hand over the swell of your soft, squishy tummy.

Dream strokes the rounded skin with hardly any force, suddenly treating you as delicately as he’d handle a fragile eggshell. His breathing hitches, and tension strings his tendons as tight as they can go.

If only you could capture this in a painting or trap it in a snow globe so you could relive the feeling of trusting him again over and over.

It’s too much. It’s far too much. Your heartbeat echoes in your ears as you shove his hand away from your skin. He’s too close, too soft, and too kind.

You’re not sure if you deserve it, and you sure as shit don’t want it.

As fast as a viper striking a hapless mouse, Morpheus grabs the back of your neck and traps you in place. His long fingers wrap around your throat, and his nails prick your skin. “You’re insatiable,” He tells you, then forces you down until the side of your face meets the forest floor.

He leaves your arms where they cushion you on the ground, correctly judging that bringing them behind your back will hurt in an unpleasant way, and instead keeps his dominance with a fist in your tangled hair. Dried leaves crush under your cheek as you try to prop yourself up and rest his strength. Dream doesn’t give an inch, and eventually, your body grows pliant and submissive beneath him.

His fingers dance up and down your spine in a soothing pattern. “Good girl. That’s it, sweetheart.” You grit your teeth and buck again, trying to express your displeasure, but Morpheus merely laughs and kisses the base of your spine.

“No need for all of that. I’ll give you what you want.”

When his fingers dip between your parted thighs, you push back, fucking begging him to touch your swollen folds and ease the building ache.

Your moan is exhausted and sweet as he thumbs your clit before playing with the fresh slick on your skin. “Fuck, you’re still so wet. Is that for me, darling?” Dream groans, his breath hitching as you arch a little further, presenting your dripping pussy to him.

The desperation in how hard he tries to make you cry out tells you everything about how tightly wound he is, how close he is to snapping. “Come on. You can admit it.” You keep your mouth stubbornly closed even as the pressure on your clit increases. It’s bad enough that he knows you as well as he does and can play your body like a virtuoso on a violin.

His breaths come in short, almost feral pants. “Silence? We’ll see how long that lasts.” And then- and then- Morpheus pushes the fat head of his cock inside you, going slow enough for your muscles to adjust.

But he’s so fucking big, and it’s been so long since he last fucked you, and your eyes roll back, sweat drips down your neck, and your knees dig into the ground, trying to keep you upright. “Shhhhh. Gods, you’re so fucking tight. Fuck. It’s okay. You’re okay. Feels good, hm?” Inch by inch, he stretches your spasming cunt, and you whine, your hips tilt back, and his thick cock slips against that spot deep inside that makes you sob.

“That’s it, my love,” Morpheus reassures through gritted teeth. “Can you take me a little further?”

You feel your muscles constrict around him like a vice when he grinds himself deeper. “H-how much?” You moan as your juices run down your thighs and coat his cock to the base.

Dream releases your hair before sliding an arm under your breasts to hold you upright without hurting the baby. It takes you a second to trust him and give him the whole of your weight. He balances you between his hips and arms like you’re lighter than air.

He kisses your damp hair and nibbles on your ear. “That much,” He says, showing you another inch or so with his fingers.

Your hand covers his resting above your belly, and your fingers intertwine with his. “…Yeah,” You nod as tears prickle in your eyes. Morpheus is everywhere, inside you, holding you. You’ve missed him. You’ve missed him so fucking much.

With a deep breath, you relax and let him carry you. The feeling of his heartbeat thudding through his chest and his hand cupping your breast is a sweet, easy soporific, soothing the sharp, anxiety-ridden knots in your head into something mindless and loving.

He rocks into you slowly until his hips are flush against your ass. “Relax, my love. You’re okay. Gods- you feel- so good, you’re perfect, that’s it, good girl. Perfect girl,” He chants, over and over, as the stretch and the push and pull have you shaking and pleading for more.

“Oh- oh god. Morpheus. Ahhh- I can’t, I’m so full.” Your breathy cries echo over his deep, gravelly moans.

“You’re still so tight even when full of my cock. And my child in your belly? Gods, I love you. I adore you.” Every time he tells you that, your cunt grows wetter.

Morpheus lays into you, fucking you like a man possessed, pressing in as deep as your body will let him. All you can do is rest there in his arms and take it. “I- I’m not going to last. I need you- I need you to come for me. One last time.” You’re not listening when he speaks, too busy bouncing your hips in time with his thrusts and screaming your pleasure out as loud as you can. “Please, darling?” He begs. His free hand returns to your pussy, and his fingers stroke your clit softly.

Your knuckles go white from the force you use to grip his wrist. “Hngh- shit, shit, shit, yes.” The feeling of Dream kissing your cheek sends you over the edge.

Your eyes go wide as the moon, and you hiccup as the force of his cock bullying into your shivering, clenching cunt wipes your mind blank of coherent thoughts. Your spine straightens and your limbs tense. You’re delirious, babbling nonsense, and he keeps working your swollen, hypersensitive clit, now chasing his own release.

Morpheus sinks his teeth into your shoulder as he comes, painting your inner walls white. The warmth relieves some of your soreness from all the orgasms he forced from your tired body. You can feel your combined cum coat your thighs, sticky and viscous.

When you collapse, you don’t hit the forest floor like expected. Instead, you end up in a large, impossibly soft bed, bundled in plush blankets and your head cushioned on fluffy pillows.

Everything hits you at once - the running, the fear, the man dead in your living room.

As you weep into the soft linen under your cheek, Dream curls around you until you don’t know where you end, and he begins. “I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.” His fingers shake as they wipe away your tears and tuck the blankets tighter around your shoulders.

The bedchamber is cool and dark with no shards of light that could irritate your eyes or worsen your building headache from crying so goddamn much.

You cling to him and smush your face into his chest. “Morpheus…’M sorry.” In this strange, fairytale land, the strange god embracing you feels like home.

Something damp trickles down your forehead. “Shhh. Did you think killing that man scared me off?” When you look up, you see tears glimmering on Morpheus’s face like sapphire beads.

“It should have.” You’ve always had darkness in your heart. You might have been born with it, a seed planted by your mother’s hatred and watered by your pain.

But if Desire was telling the truth, Morpheus is as flawed as he is beautiful. That’s oddly comforting.

His mouth tastes like you when he kisses you. “Listen to me, beloved. I have been captured like that once before. I languished in a prison for almost a century. I was forgotten. Abandoned. Starved. All of this around you that I built crumbled into dust. At long last, it was the pity of an old man and my rage that freed me. But you… No one has ever protected me like you did,” He whispers.

Your arms tighten around his waist. You love him, you hate him. Most of all, your heart breaks for the decades he spent alone.

He swallows thickly. “That’s all I ever wanted. For my whole existence. Someone to fight for me.” You wanted that, too.

“And if you had chosen to leave me there, to keep you and our child safe, I would’ve let you. I would have forgiven you. That is how much I love you.” His hand sketched slow, circular patterns across your stomach, never shying from the rolls.

Your lips ghost over his shoulder, sending a shiver through him. You don’t kiss him with forgiveness, not yet. Even though you can’t say it aloud, you want him to know you’re here. He’ll always catch you, no matter where you run, so he won’t ever be alone again.

“Maybe you’ll regret it. That it was me.” You can be just as cruel and monstrous as him; there are other kinder, prettier, gentler, sweeter people. He could be anywhere else right now other than tethered to a canvas of scars with her teeth bared.

He kisses your forehead with his hands, cradling your cheeks like a dragon cradling its hoard. “Do your worst.”

this is the smuttiest thing ive written for this fic yet. hope you guys like this!

#treehouse #the sandman #sandman #the sandman comics #sandman comics #the sandman dc #sandman dc #sandman netflix #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus #lord morpheus x you #lord morpheus #lord morpheus x reader

[borathae]

Question, do the sanguis boys wax down there? I don't know why but because kook is a masochist I can see him waxing even his hole 🫣

Oooh good question 👀 HCs under the cut

Yoongi

never thought pubes to be a problem

on himself or his partner(s)

"We're all adults, aren’t we? Adults tend to have pubes. Where's the fucking problem with them?"

he does like taking care of his bush however

he likes trimming the misbehaving spots

and shampoos it daily

once a week, he even puts moisturising oils in them to keep them soft

they'll always have a faint clean scent to them

and sometimes hint from under the hem of his pants nfnfnf

Taehyung

go bush or go home

he fucking loves it wild and natural

the thicker and hairier the better

loves the look of it when there is so much of it, it comes out of the underwear

he loves painting it omfg

there is so many close up paintings of just his lovers' genitals and bush

you find him burying his face in a good bush and smelling it aggressively

he's a little unhinged like that

same with armpit hair

takes care of his own bush religiously

it may appear wild and unkempt, but trust that he spends minimum five minutes daily taking care of it after his showers

Jungkook

he is either natural, trimmed or clean

it depends on how he feels

when he’s natural, he washes them and moisturises them religiously

when he’s trimmed, he likes keeping his balls and hole clean because trimmed hair is too itchy for him around those areas

when he’s clean, Imma take your HC and say that he waxes himself

well, I think he lets someone else do it

it was an aesthetician at first, but then he got awkward about it

now he asks someone of the polycule to do it

OC would be careful about it and always warn before the rip + ask if he's okay afterwards

they would listen to chill R&B as they’re doing it and she would go all "super duper king spa" mode HSJSJS

Yoongi would be nonchalant and quick about it

he'd be all like "spread your ass more", "arch your back more", "kook stop wiggling, I know the wax is warm but I ain't gonna get your balls if you keep wiggling" and he'll ask if he's okay just once after everything is done

I can see him and Kook drinking whiskey as they’re doing it and either sharing silence except for Yoongi’s orders+Kook's complaints OR they talk about their shared interests

Tae would be either in grieving over the lost hair or make it sexual

listen. Kook really isn’t out to make it sexual but it gets really hard (pun intended) to stay soft when Tae touches him in such sensual ways.

he'll hold his cock at his tip and give it slow, "innocent" jerking movements as he applies the wax on his balls for example

or he'll be all like "there as well? There? Right there? I can’t seem to see any hair however. There you said?" as he pokes around the first few inches of Jungkook’s hole with his pinky

like. LIKE. Waxing with Tae will end in sex 98% of the time

sometimes he also asks Hoseok and I think he'll be a mixture of OC and Yoongi

he tries to be quick to make the pain as short as possible but he'll keep being apologetic and worried he hurts him too much

one time he accidentally apologised to Kook by giving his hole a "booboo bye" kiss instinctively JSJSJSJ

that moment was really awkward at first but then both men laughed about it

(Kook ended up pulling him in for a makeout session afterwards cause pretty best friends make out sometimes ayee)

Jimin

has the biggest body image issues ever

please don’t ask him about his genitals or pubes

when he’s natural, he thinks he is the dirtiest, most unattractive rodent ever

which ends in him rapidly shaving himself, close to tears and in a pitch black room

(his vampire vision makes it possible)

and then once he's clean, he'll hate the look of it

cause now the focus is all on his dick and he hates it

please don’t ask this man about his pubes situation because he will break into tears on a bad day

Hoseok

I see him keeping it really neat and tidy

not too long, but not too short

he'll be so meticulous and shape them to perfect symmetry

I can see sharpe edges with him

he'll shave the parts visible from his briefs

and keep his balls & hole clean

like so, so clean and soft and pretty

he comes from porn, so he always makes it a priority to be presentable down there

Seokjin

how dare you ask about something so private

no on a serious note, I think he likes to keep his pubes short and his balls free

he shaves them

and his "bikini zone"

and his hole

which results in the most contortionist poses ever in the shower jsjsjs

one time, Emma offered to wax him

which they did and that was the first and last time Seokjin cursed at her Sjsjsjs

they never tried again HAHAHAHA

Namjoon

he currently lives in a hidden cabin in the woods with no connection to the outer world

so he has other stuff to worry about than his pubes Jsjsjsj

when he was free and in his glory, he kept it neat and tidy however

I can see him ordering his subs (slaves) to lick his pubes as humiliation because he'd keep calling them disgusting for it

or he'd shove their faces into them and order them to take a good wiff

like he saw pubes as a patch of power and a tool for humiliation

send tweet.

#asks: sanguis duology #anon #asks #hcs: sanguis duology #hcs #thirsty thursday

[hualianff]

Shadow hunter HC who tries to summon a major demon to do chaos on earth but accidentally drops a dirty sock on the pentagram so he ends up with XL, a little and peaceful soul collector demon.

Little does HC know, XL is indeed a major demon - he just likes to do lesser demon’s jobs and is considered the laughing stock of hell because of it. 

HC instantly calls summoning XL a mistake, asking how to send XL back ASAP.

(XL: “ok, what happened to hello? How are you?”)

But it’s okay because XL is a chill demon and is used to being ridiculed, so he ends up telling a tiny, white lie: he claims HC can’t send him back until XL fulfills a wish HC wants granted.

Except the problem is, HC can’t seem to think of one genuine wish he wants from XL. And he can only summon the demon he wants after sending XL back.

So, they’re stuck together for a bit.

Much to HC’s surprise, XL doesn’t use his powers much. Why in the world does XL want to learn how to cook without using magic as a shortcut? And clean? Do laundry? Who has the time for that?

HC refuses to bring XL on his side missions but after one goes horribly wrong in the blink of an eye, XL ends up showing up at the last second to help because HC wasn’t back in time for dinner.

XL insists on tagging along on missions after that.

HC is a much-wanted shadow hunter, therefore rogue demons often try to attack him. Possess him? Harm him. But of course, XL isn’t going to let that happen, not when the company - even if it’s forced - has been really nice.

Something makes him want to protect the shadow hunter. XL, who has always been told his soft spot for non-demons would be his downfall, does everything in his power to help HC. 

And HC begins to notice.

HC grows used to XL’s presence. Despite XL’s title labeling him as a low rank bottom-feeding demon, HC realizes XL happens to know much more than he lets on. He also seems to know all of the shadow hunter’s weak spots but fortunately hasn’t used them against HC or his fellow shadow hunters thus far.

Before he knows it, one month has passed, and he looks forward to seeing a smol demon flit around his kitchen, chopping vegetables up and adding them to a bubbling concoction on the stove. Or the surplus of plants that have made their way into HC’s living room, soaking up sunlight and adding a nice change of scenery to the space.

XL has also gotten hooked on a variety of dramas that HC himself was never interested in. Now, HC can’t help but watch over XL’s shoulder, and eventually sit down next to the demon to squeeze in a quick episode before bed.

Except that sense of peace is soon shattered when HC is reminded of the chaos he desperately wanted to. The other powerful demon, Bai Wuxiang, had visited HC’s dreams, offering a once-in-a-lifetime deal in exchange for his powers. 

(“Or has the vicious Crimson Rain gotten too soft?” BWX taunts, circling around HC in the dream. “Perhaps you never intended on executing your plan in the first place?”)

HC realizes he has been distracted from his initial goal, and the familiar emotions of anger and frustration with the world he’s a part of arise once more. Ignoring his conflicting turmoil, HC seethes at how dare XL sidetrack him from his carefully crafted plan to disrupt the corrupt bureaucracy of the higher ups that choose to neglect the humans they should be servicing. 

It’s all XL’s fault for making HC feel so content by just being in his life.

HC must quickly deal with this.

And so, the next morning, when XL is shuffling around the kitchen making breakfast, humming to himself, HC slowly walks in with a grim face.

“Oh, wonderful, you’re up! I made some simple congee for you,” XL says, stirring the pot. 

HC curls his right hand into a fist.

“…”

“I remembered your instructions to let it simmer for an hour longer than I’m used to, so the consistency has definitely improved-“

“Xie Lian.”

XL pauses his movements. He doesn’t fully turn to see HC’s expression, but somehow seems to know HC has something serious he would like to say. 

“You haven’t called me by my name in a long time,” XL says with a light chuckle. See, to prevent others from realizing HC has summoned an ancient demon by openly throwing around Xie Lian’s name, both decided it would be easier if HC called XL by a nickname - and Gege has sufficed. 

HC rounds the counter to stand a few paces away from the demon. He angles his chin down, looking down at XL with a stone cold exterior. He’s bracing himself in preparation for what’s to come.

“I’ve figured out my wish,” HC reveals quietly. XL stares straight ahead, refusing to meet HC’s eye. 

XL does, however, smile. 

It’s a small and sad smile - a knowing one. He fiddles with the dial before turning off the stove.

“You haven’t. You only think you have,” XL responds in a delicate voice.

HC inhales sharply. He takes another step towards the demon, the demon who he knew would be difficult. It’s so clear now, having shared a space with XL for a few months now. 

HC can’t even fathom how he thought XL was as useless and weak as he once concluded. 

HC shakes his head.

“You’re wrong. This is what I want.”

I want you to leave, remains unspoken.

I want you to leave and unbind yourself from me, something you’ve always been capable of from the moment I summoned you.

You are no ordinary demon. You are one of the most powerful and destructive demons who is mentioned in earliest shadow hunter records of demon kind. 

But you cannot give me what I desire. You will not, more so, as those days of violence and bloodshed are far behind you, and I refuse to keep you around to witness my heinous intentions come to fruition. 

I refuse to taint the simplicity of life you’ve chosen for yourself.

“Hua Cheng, I-“

“Leave, Xie Lian. Leave this place and never come back.”

The two are silent for a long moment. It feels like eons have passed in what was just a few seconds, but the damage has been done. 

XL nods once, then steps away from HC.

“Very well. I do not intend to overstay my welcome.”

XL raises his right hand, his thumb and middle finger touching. 

“Goodbye, Hua Cheng.”

With the snap of his fingers, XL dissipates into thin air. 

*** Prompt by @no-one-says-hi

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hua cheng #xie lian #cerdrabbles #shadow hunter au i think #angst #shadow hunter HC #demon xl

[idealisticrealism]

TCL 3x05 thoughts

The main things:

This ep starts literally immediately after last ep ended, and then takes place over 2 full days

Looks like Thony and Jorge swapped numbers at some point lol; I guess Dante got tired of being the go-between haha. But for a guy that was so concerned yesterday about Thony missing her interview, he sure seems chill about pulling her away today… only to have nothing for her but an unintentionally murdered guy and an uncomfortable fight with his sister lol. That’s a bit embarrassing for you there, Jorge! I like that he later ended the business call about Nadia’s payout to be able to answer her, and then followed through on her request to talk to Ramona on her behalf. And then she shows up at his office– did she google him or did he actually tell her where to find him??-- and tries to convince him to nullify the Amber Alert, and ngl I enjoy the fact that much of their dynamic so far is basically Thony either ordering or begging him to do something, and him being like “No” and making some mocking remark to her about it… and then later doing exactly what she asked/suggested lol. Thony (and especially the potent combination of Thony and Luca) really does have some kind of magic power over the men of this family… though Arman seemed to accept it far more quickly and eagerly than Jorge, who’s still half-heartedly trying to resist haha. But then again, the man still showed up at her court hearing and not only provided the exact thing she asked for, but he also stayed to see the outcome and her reaction?? Like I’m absolutely hearing Nadia’s words to Arman rn: “You love the way she looks at you when you do these things for her. When you are her hero”... Jorge got his first real taste of that during the last ep, and looks like he already wants more haha

Thony and Ramona are clashing more and more which is potentially going to be very problematic for Thony when they lose Arman and she is no longer shielded by her connection to him… but I guess that’s when Jorge’s growing regard for her is going to come into play, and create an interesting divide with the siblings…

Poor Thony reliving the trauma of losing Luca, only even more terrifying this time because instead of Marco (who sucked but was at least relatively safe), he could be with someone who intends to hurt him. “We’ve been down this road before” yeah in more ways than one

“You and Armando will work together, so when I’m gone…(etc)” okay this is a very odd statement for a 50-something to make??? And she later says something about bringing Arman home ‘while there’s still time’-- time for him, or her?? Like is Ramona secretly dying and that’s why she’s so determined to get Arman back, so Jorge will still have family watching over him? Surely the writers wouldn’t use a plotline like that though, not given how we lost Adan…….? 

Okay let’s all pretend that we believe that a 6 year old kid, who had barely experienced the world outside his own bedroom before a few months ago, managed to navigate the streets of a major city on foot to a location that’s a 10 minute drive away, and then also somehow snuck into a large public facility undetected and didn't raise red flags as an unaccompanied kid hanging there for hours lol

Ugh so much love for the courtroom scene and the fam all giving their testimony. I love that they were all clearly ready to commit perjury if needed (eg by covering up Thony’s shady activities if asked about it) and that they also said such beautiful, heartfelt things, because god did Thony need to hear those things. After everything she has gone through, and everything that her actions to protect Luca put the rest of the family through, she’d clearly started to question (like we saw in the kitchen earlier with Fi)  whether she is actually truly good– a good mother, a good family member, and a good person in general– or if she only brings pain to those around her.  The forgiveness and support of her family doesn’t erase what she’s done, but it is going to be a huge part of how she moves forward and grows as a person, and I’m really looking forward to seeing more of that journey.

I also loved that the people trying to take Luca away were two crusty old guys, while Thony’s lawyer (who looked like she was trying not to cry when Thony did her big speech), and the judge, and of course Susan (who, while on the CPS side, is actually fairly impartial and in some ways shows a lot of regard for Thony, and didn’t raise an objection even though she could have) are all women. It feels like a subtle nod to the themes of both motherhood and women supporting other women in this show, and that’s really cool. 

Other stuff:

Congrats to Fi for finally getting to have her own Traumatised Showering Scene haha, I think Thony has had at least 2 or 3 by this point. But I did feel for Fi and Chris that they barely even got to begin to unpack what happened to them because things were just immediately about Luca. Also ngl that music/voiceover combo right at the start with the abrupt fadeout was a bit weird lol

“Sometimes I wish I was a turtle, so I could hide in my shell” #relatable

Love the sweet JD/Fi stuff, though this dude needs to recognise his place in the family hierarchy and not make calls that aren’t his to make lol. Leave the dealing with big important stuff to the women, buddy, you’re out of your depth!  

Speaking of dudes messing things up… seriously Dante? Accidentally killing the best lead your bosses have to getting their relative back? That’s embarrassingly amateurish. Unless there’s actually more going on here than we realise, and he did it deliberately to keep the guy from talking??

Ok seriously how many doors lead outside from Luca’s room?? I know it’s a converted sun-room and not a proper bedroom, but still, they should at least be locked if not also securely barricaded. Geez.

Ah the many facets of Jorge, comfortable in a homeless camp and while torturing a guy in a warehouse, but also in a courtroom and a fancy corner office, and also while kneeling in a kitchen doorway to earnestly accept a gift of a cupcake from a 5 year old lol

Thony always tells Luca she’s never going to let anything bad happen to him… but uhhh, a little too late there, don’t you think Thony? Poor kid has been through more ‘bad things’ than most adults, and most of them have happened within the last 6 months lol

Lol at Thony trying to tell the officer to drop the charges against Dante and he’s just like ‘nope’ haha. I bet she really misses her surgeon days when she could just give orders and people would follow them without question

No Nadia this week! Honestly it felt weird not to see her; it really feels like she is part of the family now, and I’m looking forward to more of her and Thony working together

Goddamn I really gotta learn Spanish.

#The Cleaning Lady #TCL recaps #TCL spoilers #The cleaning lady spoilers #ngl I liked the ep fine #but I felt weird and empty after watching it #or maybe it was more after watching next week's promo #I think I'm just not ready for the distractions of the Fi & Chris plot and the Luca plot to be over #and to have to face what happens next with Arman #sigh there's gonna be a lot of tears next week I just know it

[sins-and-wins-with-vix]

Everything Right/Wrong with Ninjago “Rebooted” E2: The Art of the Silent Fist

Disclaimers: Show owned by LEGO. This is not a professional review/critique - it’s mainly intended for comedy!

Make sure to reblog, comment, and like, and tell me your thoughts!

- Theme ✅

- How convenient for the animators that Wu’s memories are all in third person ❌

- “No robots…” Lloyd forgets that Zane isn’t dead… yet. ❌

- Where did Nya get a green suit for Lloyd? ❌

- “There’s a reason [Wu’s] lived as long as he has.” Yeah, because he’s part of nearly every mythical, immortal creature in the book. There’s so many different forms of magical DNA in this guy that, frankly, I’m surprised he isn’t radioactive ❌

- “You guys go ahead. I will stay back and watch [the blades].” Wow, they didn’t even try to argue with him, huh? The DISRESPECT ❌

- Wait, why does Nya like Cole? We saw that the two were assigned as a perfect match, but we never saw hints of Nya actually liking him and now we’re supposed to believe she’s suddenly in love with both of them? What?? ❌

- “But Cole… Cole is not Jay (positive)…” OOOHHHHHHHHH🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

- Seriously though, this is such an awful line considering Jay is her canon love interest. And don’t say they didn’t know Jaya was gonna be canon because I do not believe there was a second they were actually going to make Cole and Nya a thing ❌

- I’m not even gonna sin them for tweaking Garmadon’s design from the end of last season because this one is objectively better ✅

- “Check out the new Sensei… lookin sharp!” Jay is a Garmadon simp confirmed and I really don’t know if that’s a sin or not anymore

- “SILENCE” *WHACK* Ohoh, I’m gonna like him, aren’t I? ✅

- How did Zane not notice the blades being stolen from in front of him? He clearly wasn’t sleeping, and Pixal later even says she wasn’t built for stealth ❌

- “Pixal? What are you doing?” “Discontinuing an old droid!” D*mn ✅

- Was that even a Pixal scream? It sounded a lot like Nya ❌

- “How about we take her apart to find out!” Jeez Kai calm down. Imagine what the others would say if he wanted to dismember a human ❌

- “Relax, not a weapon!” Then why didn’t they just bring them inside in the first place?!?! ❌

- “These nindroids are so much fas-“ Give me perfectly timed cuts for 400 Alex ✅

- “wouldn’t that mean shutting down Pixal too?” “Don’t tell Zane!” The ninja don’t even seem to consider Pixal as a living entity. They only even take her into account as a reference to Zane, nothing else. You can’t convince me they would be this chill about taking out the power if a human’s life was on the line. Basically what I’m saying is the ninja are racist ❌

- “We are all different, but I do not feel so different around you…”⬇️ ✅

- “Ever since we left I’ve been worried about [the students].” “Oh, Dareth’s looking after them.” Was that supposed to ease Cole’s worries cuz I’m pretty sure it made them worse ❌

- “Ya know, Cole, you don’t get the credit you deserve. You always put others ahead of yourself! I know the other ninja get all the attention but I just want you to know, you’re a good guy.” This is literally just the writers trying to convince us to care about Cole at a point in which such a small amount of the fandom actually did. I love Cole, I always have, but I think anyone who was in the fandom prior to the Wildbrain era can attest to how ignored he was as a character. This went off on a small rant so to clarify, I’m not sinning this because of how underrated Cole used to be (personally I think that’s more the fandom at the time’s fault than the show itself). I’m sinning this because it felt awkward and forced ❌

- “Don’t tell Jay.” Why? There was nothing inherently romantic about that line, or this situation in general, so what is there to not tell Jay? ❌

- “This is where all of Ninjago gets its power.” Zane mansplains something that even Dareth should be able to determine Pixal already knows ❌

- “I will call you Mindroid!” *angry mindroid noises* Worry not, Mindroid. One day we will join together and seek vengeance against all those who mock us with labels like “fun-sized” and “vertically challenged.” We are living versions of the pocket knife - cleverly concealed until the final moments in which we are revealed to deliver the killing blow.

- “Stupid technology!” Kai said, to the glass case ❌

- “oh who cares about probability!” this is character development… I have absolutely no idea where it came from or how Pixal developed but it sure is there ❌

- How unlucky was Pix that she just happened to land on the ONE laser we’ve seen throughout this entire episode? ❌

- *Mindroid breaks into office* “Great! Now they come in fun-sized!” ✅

- “This is no time for a lesson, Kai!” Actually, the climax generally is the time for the lesson, Jay

- The nindroids might have Storm Trooper aim but that doesn’t make it okay for the ninja to dodge in the worst possible way just to show off ❌

- Lloyd - beloved Green Bean - you’re supposed to cup the water in your hands, sweetie… not just stick your whole face in the pond like you’re bobbing for apples… ❌

- “This is why I took an oath of peace!” Why? So you and your son could get mauled by a giant, robotic dragon?? ❌

- Mindroid dies, and although killing him is 100% sinnable by death, this is actually a sin because he appears unscathed later on multiple times ❌

- Why does it take so long for Pixal to lose power? ❌

- “Your mission was important. I was not. I am to assist; I assisted.” The show never acknowledges how tragic this scene is. Well, it does, but only with Pixane, not Pixal as her own character. We constantly get to see glimpses of Pixal’s insecurities, but rarely see them built on or developed. ❌

- The only source of power for ALL of Ninjago is operated by this one tower and no one thought that was a bad idea ❌

- “We are compatible?” “Yes, yes we are.” ✅

- Look, Pixane is my favorite canon ship, but I still hate the way it happened. It was rushed, under-developed, and just didn’t feel right. ❌

- But also, Pixal only has feelings for Zane once it’s obvious that he feels that way about her so… recipromantic Pixal canon? ✅

Sentence: Mindroid coming for your kneecaps

#ninjago sins/wins #Ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago cole #ninjago jay #ninjago kai #ninjago nya #ninjago zane #ninjago pixal