#why does this read like a love letter between two fools who met by chance and now cannot imagine life apart

[mypoisonedvine]

peaches & cream || soft!dark Jake Wyler x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18​'s 5k challenge! I used the prompt, "the town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks."

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut (noncon), stalking/obsession, some degradation/negging (but lots of praise during the actual smut), kinda yandere vibes?, touch of breeding kink at the end, definitely flirting with the boundary between soft!dark and regular dark but I like to think it’s a fine line

“Sorry, but that’s a seasonal flavor,” the girl at the counter explained in a snarky monotone.

“Well, yeah, but isn’t it still… the season?” you pressed; normally you weren’t the sort of person to argue with a cashier over a milkshake, but the look she was giving you made you feel like she was holding out on you— especially when the promotional poster for the very thing you were trying to order was just behind her head, and said the flavor was available for two more days.

“We’re out,” she answered firmly, but then her face suddenly shifted to a much more pleasant expression as you heard the chime of the front door opening behind you.  

You felt his body hovering behind yours just as his hand laid on the counter beside you, caging you in.  It was even more unsettling with the context that there was a whole line of people waiting behind you already.

“I’ll get your usual,” the girl promised to the man beside with a flirtatious smile as she disappeared to the back, returning almost instantly with a shake in her extended hand.  “Peaches and cream milkshake— extra whipped cream, no cherry.  Enjoy!”

Your eyes widened at the reading of your own order.  “I thought you were out!” you protested, going completely ignored.

"If you were my girl, this sort of thing wouldn't need to happen."

You recoiled from Jake's voice in your ear, and he smiled in spite of your snarl, bringing the straw to his lips slowly.  With a shudder you walked away, deciding it was probably better to forgo a milkshake anyways— especially if it was a chance to avoid everyone’s favorite senior, the football king who basically owned the whole town for no other reason than being good-looking, athletic, and allegedly “charming” or whatever.

Of course, he followed you, sitting across from you in a booth and silently shooing his posse of fellow teammates to go off and give you two some space.  If only he would give you space.

“We can share,” he offered as he held the milkshake out towards you.  “I know it’s your favorite… it’s mine too.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you explained quickly as you pulled a book out of your backpack, intent on ignoring him since you couldn’t physically force him to leave.

He shrugged and returned to sucking on the straw, watching you unwaveringly as you tried to read your book— staring at the page was going well, but you couldn’t seem to actually get any words down.  Had you forgotten English as a written language or something?

“Could you leave?” you finally asked as you groaned and looked up from your book.  “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just sitting here,” he reminded you.

“And it’s distracting!”

He smirked proudly.  “My presence tends to have that effect on people.  Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You rolled your eyes, burying your face back in your book.  “You know, you may have everybody else fooled, but someday you’re gonna have to leave this pathetic little town and go into the real world where throwing a ball isn’t a career and nobody fawns over you just because you have the audacity to be attractive.”

He chuckled lightly.  “Right, because you have those big city dreams of yours, but believe it or not some of us like this ‘pathetic’ little town.”

“Well, of course you would,” you snorted.  “Your dad’s the mayor and your girlfriend’s the head cheerleader.”

“My ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, finally getting your attention enough to make you shut your book.

“What?” you blurted out.

“Yeah, she dumped me,” he explained plainly.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, making him look much too proud of himself again.  “Finally snapped out of the brainwashing, huh?” you added, effectively killing his smug expression.

“I guess you could say that.  She met some college guy from out of town… I think her parents liked me too much, she needed a bit more rebellion.”

“Well, my condolences to you,” you smiled, “and my congratulations to her.”

“I thought you hated her,” he scoffed.

“Well, now she and I have something in common: a complete lack of interest in you!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” he smirked, “she still comes over every now and again to suck my cock.”

You choked on nothing, face getting warm at his crude language.  He didn’t talk like that with anyone else; it was so cruel the way he kept everybody in town under his spell except you, the way he let you in on his real darkness with no one else to confide in or believe you.  

It was so fundamentally lonely, being the one person who wasn’t in love with Jake Wyler.  It was even worse being the one person Jake Wyler loved.

At least, that was the word he used multiple times in his semi-anonymous letters, his incessant calls and emails, his speeches outside your window.  He’d actually cooled off lately, you wondered if maybe he had finally let go of this ‘the one thing I can’t have’ obsession and learned to appreciate his girlfriend (who, for all her personality flaws, was objectively gorgeous, and seemed to at least be nice to him if nobody else).

But now that she left him (which you were still trying to process, honestly), you were surprised he hadn’t already moved on to the next best wannabe model and/or reinstated his campaign to win you over.

Then again, the look in his eye kind of made you think you were about to witness the second one.

“You know, when she does come over, I can only ever finish because I’m thinking about you,” he revealed in a low voice.  You grimaced and slid out of the booth, stuffing your book into your bag and barely managing to throw him a goodbye before you dashed out.  

It wasn’t like you really thought you could get away from him— he had made it clear over and over that you couldn’t— but the idea of being crammed in that booth with him, surrounded throughout the diner by his adoring fans who somehow didn’t manage to overhear him when he said those awful things, made you feel nauseous.

What you should’ve considered was that, fans or not, those people were witnesses, and now that you were running out into the dark streets of the town and he was chasing after you, you didn’t have any.  It was just you and him, and when you turned into an alleyway to try to get home faster, even the dim glow of the streetlights couldn’t see you anymore.

“Hey,” he stopped you with a tight grip on your arm, pulling you back into him.

“Let me go!” you whined, trying to tug yourself away but only ensuring that his hand would leave a bruise on your arm.  

“I will when you just hear me out, okay?” he hissed, spinning you around to look up at him.  "Why don't you just give me a chance?  Don't you wanna be popular?" 

"I don't want to be anything that requires being within ten yards of you!" you spat.

He seemed bewildered, but you knew he wasn’t actually that stupid.  "Why?"

"Because you know why!"

He sighed, slumping his shoulders a little.  "Are we still on that, really?  I told you, you should take it as a compliment.  You know how many girls would kill to catch me jerking off in their panties?"

"You're sick, Jake,” you sighed, “and you're really good at hiding it from everyone else but I know what you really are.  You told me you needed help with algebra and I actually believed you, for months you were lying to me to get close so you could perv on me when you already had a girlfriend and two side chicks anyways— god, Jake, you're crazy!"

You yelped when he pinned you to the wall, blue eyes darker than ever.  "I really, really hate that word."

Against the wall, your back straightened as you felt the tone shift completely for a moment before he was back to his jovial self again, giving you a somber but almost-genuine smile.

“The only kind of crazy I am is crazy about you,” he defended with a laugh, leaning in a little closer.  “Why can’t you see that?”

As his eyes moved from your own to your lips, a renewed sense of fear shot through you.  “Jake…” you mumbled, apparently your feeble attempt to ask him to stop.

“Just one kiss,” he bargained, “and then I’ll let you go.  Okay?  That’s all I need.”

“N-no,” you whimpered, turning your head away as he leaned in even further.  “Stop.”

“Come on, it’s just a kiss, baby,” he cooed.  “Then you can leave.  Hey, you might actually like it.  You know, I think that’s what you’re really scared about… and I get it!  When I first realized I was in love with you, it was scary for me, too— I mean, I’m the most important guy in town and you’re just some bookworm, it’s sort of social suicide for me so I had a lot to worry about.”

There he went with his negging again, trying to bring you down to his level.  Your brain knew that, it saw right through it, but your gut still sank with doubt.

“But I know now that love is nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded.

“No, Jake,” you whispered, feeling tears well in your eyes, “I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want.”

“Well, that is something to be afraid of,” he replied with the coldest laugh you’d ever heard; you didn’t hear any agreement, but the lack of denial was deafening.  “So just be my good girl and let me kiss you…”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes wide open and searching for anywhere to look but up at him.

He was so close now that his lips brushed against yours with his command: “say it.”

You stammered over your breath, not sure exactly what he was asking for, and you winced as you felt his grip tighten on your arms.

“Say, ‘kiss me’,” he clarified in a harsh whisper.  “Say, ‘please’...”

“Please,” you repeated awkwardly, hearing it in your voice but so clearly not your own words, “kiss me.”

He let his mouth intertwine with yours and your eyes were still wide open as he let his own fall shut, moving his hands to clutch your face gently instead as you gave a weak effort to kiss him back.

Objectively, he was good at this.  A lot of things were objectively true about Jake: as much as you forced yourself not to see it, he was handsome; as much as it didn’t really matter to you, a boycotter of all things sports, he was talented; and, as much as no one else realized it, he was completely deranged.  For every word of kindness from him there was another of anger.  For every love letter in your locker, there was a threat left scrawled on crumpled paper inside your bedroom, just so he could remind you that your parents would let him into the house if he asked and never question it.

Which was why it was extremely important that you did not enjoy this kiss.  You needed to hate the way his fingers traced over the pulse in your neck, the way his tongue tickled yours, the way his teeth just barely grazed your lip until your knees went a little weak.  

But wow, there was something primally satisfying about melting into his arms, feeling his strength support you like it was nothing when he held your waist and pulled you closer.

You could almost forget that it was him.  But then he mumbled your name into the kiss, nearly moaned it in fact, and it pulled you back to reality.  With a gasp, you pushed him away and blinked your eyes open, not even realizing you’d closed them; hating how quickly you’d started to give in to him.

“There, one kiss,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.  “I’m gonna go home now—”

“You can’t be serious,” he laughed incredulously.  “You’re gonna kiss me like that and tell me you don’t feel this, too?  We’re so meant for each other— we even order the same milkshake!”

“That doesn’t matter!” you denied.

“I love you!”

“That doesn’t matter either!”

You turned to leave but he grabbed you again from behind, covering your mouth with his hand when you opened your mouth to scream.  “Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he hissed in your ear, “and don’t walk away from me.”

Fighting against his grip did nothing but exhaust you: he only needed one arm to hold you back as he dragged you deeper into the alley.  Your legs swung wildly and landed a kick to his shin, and he plugged your nose while he was covering your mouth so you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen to me, you stuck up little bitch,” he growled.  “I’m really sick of this ‘hard to get’ act.  I know you want me.  So shut up and let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, okay?  You gonna be good?”

In that moment, you would’ve agreed to anything for a chance to fill your lungs with fresh air, and so you nodded, the back of your head rubbing against his chest.

“You gonna be nice and quiet so nobody catches you getting fucked like a whore in this alley?”

Another nod, more feverish than the last, ended with a sharp inhale as he let go of your nose.  But he was still covering your mouth, his arm around you now feeling less like restraint and more like an embrace.

"I've wanted you for so long, you can't even imagine," he explained softly as he leaned down and kissed your neck, gripping your waist tighter.  "You and this perfect body of yours.  This smart little head that thinks too much…"

You swallowed dryly as his hand trailed lower.

"This pussy you've been hiding from me for much too long," he added darkly, roughly shoving his hand up your skirt.

You whined behind his hand but he didn’t seem to care; he pulled your skirt up and grinned at the sight of your panties— because he recognized them.

“I remember these,” he purred.  “They look good on you, baby, but they looked better covered in my come.”

Your cheeks burned with shame— you already hated yourself for still wearing the pair he’d tampered with, but it was harmless after a few runs through the washer, right?  You weren’t going to stop wearing your favorite panties just for him, that would mean he won, in a sense; or, that’s what you told yourself to justify not burning them.

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna be soaked by the time I’m done with you,” he purred, slipping two fingers between your legs and growling slightly.  “Well, actually, you’ve already done a lot of the work for me.”

He pulled the fabric aside and explored your pussy instead, tightening his grip over your mouth as you made little muffled yelps.  The rough pads of his fingers found and targeted your clit instantly, that megawatt smile pressed against your ear as he started to rub your bud harder.

“Mm, feels good, huh?” he taunted, moving even faster as your hips jolted unintentionally.  He stopped only to bring the fingers to his lips, humming at the taste of you which he sucked off of them.  “So sweet, babygirl— better than any peaches and cream milkshake, that’s for sure.”

The wet fingers trailed down your body again, finding your entrance that he suddenly pushed into; it was a little too much without any warning and it made your eyes shoot wide open, a squeak barely escaping your throat.

"Just as tight as I imagined, baby,” he sighed, “all those times I used your panties, or hooked up with somebody who almost looked like you from behind.  You’re gonna feel so good on my cock, I know you want it so bad.”

He took his fingers out of you to reach back and open his belt with one hand, the sound of the buckle matched in upsettingness only by the sound of his jeans sliding down to his thighs.

You heard your own breath loud and heavy against his hand as you felt his hard cock press against your thigh, a drop of precum smearing on your skin.  Your breathing halted suddenly, though, when he slid himself between your legs to rub his cock over your exposed and swollen pussy.

“Oh, babygirl, you really are too good to me,” he grinned, kissing your ear tenderly.  “So fucking wet and ready for me, huh?  You need it that bad?  You’re gonna get it, baby, ‘m gonna give it to you so good…”

Bracing yourself as best you could, you felt the head of his cock push against your entrance before he slammed in all at once, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “fuck, you’re so warm…”

Already he was fucking into you roughly, pumping faster and deeper, paying no mind to your choked sobs of pain from the wide stretch.  Even when it stung it felt oddly good, and the underside of his cock seemed to slide perfectly over your g-spot with each movement until your eyes began to roll back in your head.

“So fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely as he braced you against the brick wall for leverage, reaching back down with his free hand to rub your clit again.  He chuckled when your legs quivered, and he must have felt your walls tighten around him, too.  “I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby, if I take my hand away are you gonna be good?” he asked darkly.  You nodded, enjoying the brief feeling of freedom that came from not having his hand over your mouth anymore.  But then again, it was humiliating that now he could hear your panting breaths, your desperate mewls that you failed to swallow down.

He made a sound that was almost like a laugh as he watched you squirm in his arms, one more way he had to lord this all over you, as if forcing you to take him in an alley wasn’t enough on its own.

His breath against your ear was hot and strained, each meeting of your hips to his accentuated with a little grunt from him.  It didn’t help at all that his fingers were rubbing you just right, with so much skill that you wondered if he’d somehow figured out how you touched yourself when you needed to get off.  Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him to have spied on you before, even if you couldn’t figure out when or how.

The hand that used to cover your mouth slid up under your shirt and pulled your bra down, a large, rough hand groping each breast and pinching your nipples until you bit down on your lip to stay quiet.  For all the mocking and teasing he’d done before, he was pretty direct now— like he was trying to make you come as fast as possible, overloading your body with sensation.  

And did he have to be so fucking good at it?

“I know you’re close, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear, “just let go…”

“Jake, please,” you sobbed, too far gone to appreciate that no begging would make him stop now.

“Come for me,” he demanded roughly, fucking you even faster as he sucked a mark onto your neck, and finally it all came crashing down with a choked-out cry of his name and a gush of warmth dripping out around his length.

“Ohh fuck, there you go, fuck it feels good when you come for me,” he grunted, thrusting even faster.  “You’re gonna milk my cock with that pretty pussy, babygirl— you’re gonna make me come…”

“J-Jake, not inside!” you interjected, getting his hand back over your mouth in return.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, “waited too long for this to pull out now.  Feels too fucking good.”

Behind his hand, the difference between whines of hatred and moans of pleasure was irritatingly subtle.

“I love you,” he reminded you in a voice exhausted yet heavy with desire, “so fucking much…”

A few more erratic, brutal thrusts accompanied by heavy pants and he was gone; you could feel his cock pulsing with each rope of come that filled you, so deep that your head fell dejectedly with the realization you had no hope of washing it out now.

His hand fell from your mouth but he didn’t pull out for another few moments as he caught his breath, gently peppering your neck and cheek in slow kisses.  “Baby,” he finally sighed, breaking the crushing silence, “you’re so fucking perfect.  I knew you were made for me.”

I hate you, you wanted to cry out, but words escaped you as he hugged you tightly and pulled your panties back into place, soaking them with his come as it leaked out of you just like he’d promised.  He stuffed his cock back into his jeans and helped you adjust your clothes back to looking almost presentable, finishing it off by turning you around and smiling at you with serene pride before kissing your forehead.

"You're gonna make such a beautiful prom queen," he cooed, “especially if you’ve already got a nice little bump showing…”

His hand rubbed beneath your belly button for emphasis, making you whimper and force your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Shh, don’t cry, baby,” he soothed, kissing your cheek softly.  “Trust me, you're gonna love being my girl."

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #dark!jake wyler x reader #idek how to tag this nobody's looking for jake wyler fics lmao

[visd3stele]

Remus image - angst & fluff

*mostly angst with a tinsy bit of fluff

*forced marriage trope

summary: you're a Slytherin pure blood dating Remus Lupin, but your family has other plans

TW: none

A/N: any thoughts and opinions are welcomed. I'd love your reviews. Requests are open, too, if any of you are interested in that

masterlist

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

You're staring at the high ceiling, wide awake and way past the middle of the night. In your hands, an envelope is twitching with every move of your fingers, twisting its corners anxiously. You received it at dinner that night, the letter from your family. And wisely waited until the privacy of your room to open it. Around you, pure bloods Slytherins were sound asleep. You made sure not to let any emotion show, on your face or voice. Something everyone in between the walls of the Slytherin residence could most likely do.

You read it once. Then again and again until each word, each letter carved its mark in your brain. Carefully, you folded it back, wrapping it in the thick layer of the envelope. Despite having stopped reading it, the news your family dropped on you kept on repeat in your mind. Over and over and over. Marriage. They found you a perfect, pure blood spouse to marry. No matter that you were still in school. And only sixteen. And already having a boyfriend.

But of course, that last part might be exactly why your blood supremacist family decided to take your love life in their hands at last. For you were dating Remus Lupin, head boy of Griffindor. Involuntarily your lips moved upward at the mere thought of him. The way his soft brown hair feels under your palms when he lays his head in your lap in the afternoon – that is when you convince him to take a break from learning for a change. Your smiled deepened. The way his scarred hands stroke your face right before he leans in to kiss you. You blushed in the dark. The way his eyes sparkle after one of the Marauders notorious pranks. The way he rolls his eyes and leave a snarky comments to any Slytherin who mock your relationship and how it only masks his own fears and self doubts.

Now you were crying. You'll have to break up with him. You'll have to break up with him without bringing the marriage up. You didn't want him to think back on what could have been years after. It's better if he thinks there is no chance anymore to be with you. And you had to do it quick. News spread in the pure blood community and risking lying about your parents intention only to fool yourself a bit longer with stolen happy times was as self destructive as it can get at this point.

You slipped your body on one side. And tossed. The envelope fell off your bed. You didn't bother to pick it up. But someone did. You felt it rather than hear it, someone picking it up and placing it on your nightstand.

" 'Morning," that sweet voice you loved so much whispered. And you snapped your head towards it in shock. Only to find a very uncomfortable Remus Lupin, switching from leg to leg, smiling awkwardly at you.

"It's five in the morning." He stated before you could find your words through the foggy veil of your thoughts. "And the sunrise is about to start..." Remus went on, looking anywhere but at you.

More tears sting your eyes, threatening to slide down your cheeks and getting completely out of your control. Here he was, your perfect boyfriend, sneaking in your bedroom to take you to see the sunrise. For you, this boy defined romance and no amount of scars, secret disappearances on the full moon and mysteries surrounding it could change that. You were more than willing to give him time, let him open up to you when he feels like it. After all, he has great friends to share secrets with and you wouldn't get in between them.

Biting your lips, you closed the distance and hugged him tight. After less than a second of hesitation, Remus put his hands around you as well. You needed it, the proximity, the safety, the warmth and love. When you were sure your voice won't break, you breathed a question to him. "And how are you planning to sneak me out?"

Remus saw right through your attempt. He pulled back a little, enough to brush his fingers over your swollen face. "Have you been crying?" Worry clouded those beautiful brown eyes. You shook your head, snatching yourself from him and desperately wiping your tears. You should do it now. Tell him it's over. Spare him – and yourself – for the pain and torture of stretching it longer. It was time to face it: your relationship was doomed from the start.

But you couldn't. Not yet. Just a little more time, you bargained with yourself. Just that sunrise together. One last date. You promised to no one. So you made yourself swallow and said instead "My family," dismissing any further remarks.

Remus pulled you back into his lean body, long arms the only thing holding you together. He needed no other explanation. Thanks to that friend of his, Sirius, Remus knew exactly what those two words meant coming from a pure blood kid. He pressed a kiss on top of your head, caressing your back in soothing large circles. Voice dipped with concern, he asked "Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to distract you?"

"What about taking me to see that sunrise you mentioned and we'll figure it out from there?"

He nodded, led you to the now slightly opened window and motioned for his broom flying within reach.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The sun beamed from between rare clouds, spread amongst a royal blue sky. Orange light crowned the ascending golden disc, fading into a soft purple and light pink at its edges. The curtain of morning mist broke the rays in matt bliss, wrapping around your entangled figures.

A wet coldness flew on with the tentative mist, but Remus planned everything ahead, it seemed. He had a wool blanket at ready, different bits and pieces of clothing, threads and patches sewed together.

"Don't tell me you picked up knotting, Moony." You didn't know when it happened, but you had taken on calling him by the silly nickname his friends did.

"No. My mother made it, actually." The scar on his lip pulled up as he patted the spot next to him. He had laid a blanket on the freshly cut grass near the Black Lake and held his mother's gift in a silent invitation.

You snuggled in, circling his waist with your arms and nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck. "Y/n!" he exclaimed, a shiver running through him at the contact with your cold skin. You sent him a grin that had nothing to do with apologies and you both snickered before turning awe filled eyes to the sunrise.

Remus let his own head lean down on your own, brown hair slightly brushing your forehead. His hand found its way to yours and as your fingers laced together he rubbed his thumb on top of your palm.

Content silence settled in. Only birds dared sing a sharp note once in a while. Your boyfriend knew how to choose a date spot, you were more than happy to give him that. The marvelous sight the sky presented doubled in the lake's still waters. Calmness washed over you. Here and now, with Remus' hand in yours, your head resting on his shoulder, everything pieced into place.

You turned your face, meeting the warn off material of his shirt and placed a kiss there. Lifting your lips upward, you kissed his exposed neck as well. Then his cheek, lingering close to his lips before stopping to murmur "I love you, Remus Lupin! So, so much."

He met your lips with his own and you were thankful he said nothing about the pang in your voice. "And I you, my darling." His glittering eyes, filled with adoration and care, were too much for your heart to bear. It was all you could do to close your eyelids tight and press into his side even more.

"Is something wrong, y/n?" Remus asked, shifting his arm to welcome your new position.

"No. Nothing. Just overwhelmed by everything I feel for you." And in a way, it was true. Not the whole truth, but as you couldn't give him that...

An unsure smiled played on your lips. He brought your face to his again, laying a kiss on your nose. You scrunch it up and made a face at him. He tried to bit back his laugh, but failed as a bundle of it escaped in a soft breath, tingling your flushed cheeks.

Remus kissed you again, this time on the bridge of your nose. Which earned him a giggle and a wide smile. Bringing your hands to his face, you cupped his cheeks and touched your noses together.

"We're missing the sunrise. And you put so much effort in this."

"Hmmm," he mused, leaning in your touch. "The sun does much of the work, to be fair." You burst in laughing at that, shaking your forehead against his.

You two traded more kisses – and then some more, bathed in the dawn light of a new day.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

"Where have you been?" You heard James Potter asked your boyfriend when you bumped in him and the rest of the Marauders in the hall.

Peter waved at you, while Sirius gave you a knowing smirk at which you rolled your eyes. Truth be told, their demand wasn't misplaced. You and Remus didn't show up at breakfast, and run late for the first class.

"Down at the lake, Prongs. I should know better than to ask for notes, right?"

"Not to worry, Moony, you didn't miss much."

You left Remus to his friends, brushing your lips to his as a form of good-bye. You headed to your room. Thoughts swirled in your mind, flying by so fast you barely registered them. You passed Narcissa and Lucius on your way. They have been married since year four, something you found very unsettling. At that time, you belittled Narcissa for not fighting off her families wishes, like her sister and cousin. But now, that you found yourself in her place? You started to understand. To understand that courage is not so easy to haul up from whatever pit it lays dormant in one's being.

So lost in thoughts, you haven't noticed the guy sitting on your bed until he spoke, voice laced with disgust. "You better kick that sorry excuse of a wizard away before we make our engagement public, honey."

You startled. "Who...?"

"Why, your new husband, of course."

"Future husband. And Remus is a fine wizard, greater than you could ever hope to be."

The stranger only rolled his eyes and huffed. "Whatever you say, honey. Just make him gone by noon. I have plans for us before the ceremony."

A ceremony that would take place in a few months, once summer blooms, you realized, dread chilling your blood in your veins. The tight line of your lips followed your betrothed until he left and swiped the door close.

Noon. Break up with Remus by noon. Make it look like it's over because there is no love anymore. Let him think you choose this smug, full of himself, brainless, boorish brute over him. It's the right course of action. So you told yourself. And so you did. Any hope for standing up against your family gone.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Wind howling outside, rain pouring, you thought the weather mocked you. It just happened to turn gloomy and morbid all of a sudden, when you were about to break the heart of the most precious boy in the whole school. And yours too in the progress.

"Remus, can we talk for a second?"

"Sure, what is it?" He turned his whole focus on you, dropping mid conversation with his mates about whatever prank they were up to next.

"Moony!" three offended sighs followed you as you dragged Remus to a more private spot. The way he no more than waved at his friends, giving all up for you, knowing you had a bad day, strung a painful chord in your soul. You did not deserve this boy. Maybe the wedding was a good thing after all.

"Hey, y/n, talk to me," Remus whispered when you came to a halt. His fingers searched for yours, trying to turn you around to face him. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here for you. We'll fix it."

"No." You said, and cursed your weak voice. You still didn't face him. "No we won't fix this." You spoke again, this time with more surety, allowing a sharp edge to it.

Bless his too kind soul, he didn't balk away. Instead, he took one stop forward, resting his head on your spine and bringing his long arms around you. "Everything's gonna be fine, y/n. I promise."

It took a superhuman effort to break free of his embrace. And you finally swirled to meet his soft brown eyes. Tears rolled down, dripping from your chin, but you didn't let him comfort you. Shacking your head, you took another step back, building distance between you, as if the following words would hurt less that way.

"Everything's not gonna be fine, Remus. Not with us. Not anymore."

For a couple seconds, he stared at you, confusion painting his beautiful features. Then, realization sunk in. And in that moment, you were sure nothing could ever hurt you as badly as his pain struck expression. His parted lips, moving in vain to form words that doesn't exist. His frenzy eyes, looking all over yourself, searching for any sign of a cruel joke. For a trace that you weren't being serious. Eyes that begin to water when he found none.

But he refuse to let the tears flow. Remus led his stare to a dark, far away corner of the empty hall. Heat colored his face, a light shade of pink that not even the cool from the open window couldn't beat down. "So that's why you were distant this morning?" Your boyfriend asked, bitterly even as his voice was small, lost. "That's why you avoided me all day and didn't look me in the eye once, more than a passing moment?"

You knew better than answer. You had nothing to say anyway. "I'm sorry, Remus. I've been meaning to tell you earlier..."

A razor sharp laugh bit your words off. "But you took pity on the poor half-blood."

No, no it wasn't like that, you wanted to say. Those remained only thoughts as you wiped your face and crossed your arms to keep them from reaching out. Reaching out to him, reassure him, hug him. Whatever he believed, you'd roll with it. If he thought you an evil pure blood, then fine! You'll be that.

An image of your mother's face, lips curled in disgust at the last Quidditch match when Slytherin lost again in favor of Gryffindor, served as model for the expression you forced your own face into.

"I didn't want it to be like this. Goodbye, Remus Lupin."

You turned. And left. Just left. You kept your back straight as you walked away from the boy who tickled your heart. Who placed feather light kissed on your cheeks, and nose and forehead for days into your relationship, too shy to initiate something more without your worded agreement. The wizard who helped you with assignments, not thinking anything less of you when you weren't perfect. Who let you fall asleep in his lap at Hogwarts' few parties that you couldn't stand due to your family. This guy who gave you everything you were too afraid to dream of. And you just walked away, as if couldn't be bothered to care.

His fist thrumming once on the hallway's wall filled your ears, a sound forever carved in your brain. The thud that followed, of him sliding down on the floor you guessed, printed an image in your mind you'll pray to forget. Remus' silent sobs, though, almost made you turn around and run towards him.

You didn't so much as cast a glance back, knowing what you'll see and too much of a coward to bear it. His body shaking with crying, knees cradled to up to his chest where his chin digged in, covered by lean arms with palms crossed over his head.

His friends would find him. They'd help him. Remus will move over and forget you. Each sentence was another step. Each step, another crack in your heart. By the time you reached your room, collapsed in your bed and twisted in a similar position to your boyfriend's – ex boyfriend. It made you understand, showed you far too clearly why he'd sit like that. The pure devastation and despair, the attempt to contain a hollowness within, to replace a part where a whole, happy heart used to beat.

You broke Remus Lupin's heart. And yours was just as shattered. And there was no going back from it now.

PART 2

#young remus lupin #young remus x y/n #young remus imagine #young remus x reader #the marauders #marauders era #the marauders era #hp marauders #marauders #hp fanfic #image #images #my fic #oneshots #marauders oneshot #remus x you #remus lupin #marauders fic #remus lupin one shot #original writing #my writing #reader insert #angst #fluff #remus fluff #remus angst #marauders angst #marauders fluff #spilled ink #spilled writing

[remakethestars]

Being Damian Wayne's Twin Sister Would Include:

Headcanons.

❝Exactly. I don't ask my dog to drive, and I don't ask the Justice League to solve my problems.❞

— Damian Wayne, Adventures of the Super Sons #9: Showdown on Hexworld

TRIGGER WARNING: Cursing, (Damian’s) death. Mentions of toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny, nightmares, blood, knives.

Headcanon masterlist.

When people ask you, “So, which one of you is the evil twin?” Damian always glowers, and you always motion to him.

You look disturbingly alike when only your eyes are showing; Damian’s got long lashes. Talia taught you a good tactic for tag-teaming in combat as kids was to pull up your hinged balaclavas and make the enemy think there was only one of you, that they’re seeing double.

Or for one of you to hang back while the other attacks as a distraction before the other knocks them out from behind.

Obviously, this won’t work when the two of you start filling out, but it works when you’re kids. It’s the reason why, even off the field, the two of you usually wear a matching outfits with hoods.

You utilize the same methods when she sends you to live with Bruce.

You don the Robin costume just like he does, much to the rest of the Batfam’s confusion (both because they weren’t expecting it and because they can’t tell you apart either), but sticking with the “red” theme, you go by Redstart.

There’s a rumor on the street that Robin V. is a meta that can teleport.

The two of you are freakishly good at mimicking the other’s voice and mannerisms, which makes it even harder for your family.

Jason tells you two about April Fools Day, and you make the most of it. Of course, Damian’s a pain in the a$$ and decides to go around pretending to be you and getting into trouble. You’re banned from the mall, and you still have no idea why. 

The two of you can communicate with just an impassive expression (Dick says it looks like a prime example of twin telepathy to anyone else), but anyone close to you knows sh¡t’s about to hit the fan when the two of you look at each other and smirk.

If it’s something you can’t communicate nonverbally, you use your cryptophasia. 

Cryptophasia is a language developed by twins when they’re learning to talk. Most of them grow out of it, you and Damian decided to keep developing it so it became more of a conlang. No one else has been taught to speak it, and they never will be. It’s for emergencies only.

Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was your Bible growing up, and the two of you call out verses when you fight together and need the other to understand a tactic (you both inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory, so you’ve got it memorized).

When you get too big to pull off the which-is-which game, you make your own costume and become the true Redstart. 

It’s basically Damian’s Robin uniform (the Super Sons’s version is the only one I’ll accept), but the boots and gloves are black, the biceps have a white stripe, the lining of the cape is white (the lining of the hood is black), the gold accents become white, it has a zipper down the front instead of clasps, and the mask becomes black (including the eyes). The waterline of the eyes is white. Like a painted redstart.

If Damian’s into animals, you’re into plants. The two of you find common ground on the fact that pollution sucks, so when you walk Titus, you take a trash bag and gloves with you to pick up litter as you go.

You did not want to go to Jon’s school. 

Not because you don’t like Jon (because you do), but because you know you could run intellectual circles around every one of those snot-nosed brats. 

School is stupid. Especially because the American education system is subpar; everything about it is.

You hardly pay attention in class. You do all of the homework a week ahead of time incase something comes up. Usually you’re doing next week’s homework in class. You’ve written entire papers on your phone in Google Docs in the middle of class to be printed out later.

If you’ve already done everything, Damian’s usually drawing and you’re daydreaming or you’re working on a case on your phone.

The teachers are always trying to catch you not paying attention, but you little sh¡ts can always answer their questions. 

Damian’s closest with Dick, but you’re closest with Tim. You admire his ability to plan ahead (see the entirety of the Red Robin comics), and you know that he’s better than both your father and your grandfather; you want to be as good as him when you grow up.

It takes a long time to wash the toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny our of your head, to learn that your grandfather’s ideas of “strength” were wrong, that it’s okay to lean on someone besides Damian, that you can be just as strong as your brother and still be feminine, that there are acceptable emotions besides anger.

Actually, your father teaches you that anger is more likely to get you killed. He won’t let you go into the field when he knows your angry.

It’s harder to drill out of you than your instinct to kill.

There’s a Lebanese restaurant called Tarbooshes (Teen Titans Special #1) the two of you go to when you’re feeling homesick. They make ox blood soup the same way your mother did, and it’s the only non-vegetarian thing Damian will eat for that very reason.

It’s nice to have a place to go where they know you by name and know what you want when you tell them “the usual.” It’s nice to have a place where you’re not a Wayne or an Al Ghul, where you’re just [Y/N] and Damian.

You disappear for an hour on your birthday to eat there. Bruce has asked you were you go, but you kept that between the two of you. 

Speaking of birthdays, you’re eleven minutes older than him. He was six pounds and ten ounces (Batman & Robin #0?), and you were a solid seven.

After Damian died, you go to Tarbooshes to feel close to him.

You were doing all right with the no-killing thing until the night Damian died.

Heretic never stood a chance.

He looked so much like Damian it gave you nightmares, though. Nightmares where you killed your twin brother and woke up sobbing.

Damian didn’t give you a speech in his last moments. He just looked over at you and said in your cryptophasia, “I’m sorry.” 

Not “I love you.” Not “Take care of them for me.” You knew that; you’d do that. He didn’t have to tell you, and he didn’t have to ask.

Just “I’m sorry.” Sorry that you were the one that was left behind.

It’s one thing to lose a family member, to lose a friend, or to lose a lover. It’s another to lose half of your soul.

The two of you had always feared you would die apart. It had always been a possibility; you weren’t stupid enough to think, “It’ll never happen to me.” Because it definitely could. 

And it had.

You wanted to run away from everything. Even just for a while. Go to one of your safe houses in London or France or whatever and just — you didn’t know — stare at the wall until you felt better? But you’d made that unspoken promise to Damian — “I’ll take care of them for you; don’t worry.” — to take care of Titus and Catfred and Jerry and Batcow and Goliath, to take care of Alfred and Bruce and Dick and Jason and Cassandra and Tim, to take care of Jon and Colin and Maps.

You avoided the cave. And if you had to go down there for some reason, you refused to look at the Robin suits.

Dick noticed. He asked if you wanted them taken down, even just for a while. You gave him a look like he was nuts and said, “No.”

Jon was a mess. More of a mess than you were, somehow. 

You’d shown up at the Kents’s. Jon was out doing Superboy things with Clark and Conner. Lois was the only one home.

You nearly scared her out of her skin when you materialized behind her and asked, “Is Jon home? It’s important.” 

He had to know first. He deserved to.

For all he put up with from you two, he deserved to be the first to know when one of you was f*cking dead.

Lois, of course, bless her heart, had the mom instincts to know that you were in no way, shape, or form okay even when you were trying so hard to hold yourself together. She asked you what’s wrong, and it’s what made you break. 

Your lip trembled. “He’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“Damian,” your voice broke. “He’s dead.” 

Jon came home to find you in his living room in your Robin uniform, covered in Damian’s and Heretic’s blood, snot running down your lip, sobbing in his mothers arms and knew what happened without having to ask. He did anyway.

When you and Jon both finally passed out, your Uncle Clark flew you back to the Batcave. No one was in any condition — not even Alfred — so he carried you up to your room; took your boots, mask, cape, and gloves off; and tucked you in. Then he went to find Bruce because there was no doubt he was losing it too.

Bruce doesn’t tell you anything about trying to find a way to bring him back without the Lazarus pit because he doesn’t want to get your hopes up. 

You walk into your room one day to find Damian sitting there reading the dissertation (the requirement was three pages, not 120, but your teacher would just have to deal with your coping mechanisms) you had been working on for your World History class and left up on your laptop while on patrol. 

He said with the utmost indifference, “You’ve made some good points, Sister,” and, of course, you pulled out a knife and attacked him because this was — was — was some shapeshifting alien or hologram tech or a cruel joke — your twin was dead, this wasn’t funny, whoever did this was going to pay.

He met you blow-for-blow and flipped away from you before saying, “And here I was expecting a warm welcome,” in your cryptophasia. 

“Brother?” 

“Tt. Obviously.” 

Yeah, a college level thesis. You’re smart. You inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory and were raised by assassins.

You learned seven languages and wrote five doctoral theses by the time your teeth came in, wrote your first letter to a newspaper editor when you were two, could’ve had a geology doctorate when you were seven (Super Sons #1), and it only took you a week to learn the language on Takron-Galtos. You’re smart.

You’re also incredibly skilled. You learned to drive when you were five (Super Sons #1), your mother trained you to go for weeks without eating (Adventures of the Super Sons #6), you can micro-sleep for days and converse with half your brain asleep, can use a muscular contraction to move your liver out of the way of a blade (Nightwing #20), and can place yourself in a deep trance to heal damages caused by a hematoma (also #20).

(My dumba$$ didn’t note what Super Sons/Adventure of the Super Sons comic I was reading when I took notes, so I don’t have all of them noted in the two above bullet points. But that’s where they’re from. If I end up rereading them, I’ll edit this and add the comic numbers.)

The first time on patrol you thought Bruce was gonna die, you called him Baba. 

The next evening, when Dick came to visit the cave, he turned to you and Damian and asked, “So, which one of you called him Dad?” 

“How’d you know?” you asked. 

“He’s smiling the way he did the day I called him Tati.”

“He’s not smiling,” Damian pointed out.

“He is on the inside.”

Can we talk about how royally the Arkham Knights game screwed up Tim Drake? (Though, everything seems to screw up Tim one way or another, I guess.) Why does he look like a quidditch player in the gif above the cut?

Visit my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ I’m a dumb white American, and I don’t know much about Arab or Romani culture other than what I’ve learned online. I hope I got it right?? If I didn’t, please drop a comment or P.M. me or something to let me know!

#Damian Wayne #Robin #Damian Wayne x Sister!Reader #Damian Wayne x Twin!Reader #Batsis #Clark Kent #Superman #Jon Kent #Jonathan Kent #Superboy #League of Shadows #League of Assassins #Talia Al Ghul #Lois Lane #Lois Kent #headcanons #headcannons #hcs #dc comics #tw: cursing #tw: death #tw: knives #tw: blood #tw: nightmares #tw: toxic masculinity #tw: internalized misogyny #Batman #Bruce Wayne #Robin x Sister!Reader #Robin x Twin!Reader

[katzkinder]

London Bridge Is Falling Down

Envy Pair version of my Counting Sheep series! Himiko is my headcanon for the name of Mikuni's mother. Since Mikuni's name contains the character for "kingdom," I thought this name belonging to an ancient queen suited his mother well.

Mikuni is annoying.

That’s something Jeje has always known, ever since Mikuni was a child, ever since the first time he saw him, bounding around his mother’s skirts and throwing himself into Lily’s arms to be held and cuddled and fawned over while Jeje had slunk back to the cellars. Himiko had been so bright, back then, the rot of Envy not yet showing in a visible way, that tiny baby that would grow into his brother’s Eve gurgling happily in her arms.

Jeje was the one who had found him. Himiko had wept when she saw him, all the anger and hate leaving her at once, vanishing as if it never existed when she laid her eyes on the fragile little bundle, swaddled in soft fabrics with little gloves on his impossibly tiny hands. She had sobbed all the harder when she took the crying child from him, her hands shaking while she cradled him close, useless apologies spilling from her pretty lips. The body of the babe’s mother had rapidly been growing cold on the carpet, and little Misono… Would remember none of it.

(Jeje remembered all of it, though. He doesn’t think a single moment will ever fade from his mind, no matter how many eons pass)

As Mikuni had grown, with Jeje watching over him as a silent, imposing, guardian angel, always behind the boy’s mother while she had read bedtime stories to him, always so aware of those bright, bright, too bright eyes, Jeje had also become aware of a number of other things, and those things remained true into adulthood. Mikuni has all of his mother’s gorgeous looks (and some from his father, but admitting as such is just asking to be choked), her stubborn brightness, her sharp tongue and wit, but more than any of that...

Mikuni is annoying.

...Because he never listens to what’s good for him. Just like his mother before him, he had taken Jeje despite his warnings, and some bitter, sick part of Jeje had wanted him to. The same part of him that had given in to Himiko herself.

But, well, he’d always known Mikuni never listened, too.

He wonders if Lily knows, though he doubts that he’s aware, of those golden afternoons when Mikuni would sneak down to his hiding place and find him lurking near the boilers, the excited, terrified whispers of Lily’s children, his human children, chasing after the young heir as he confidently hopped down, step by step, into the “monster’s” lair.

They had talked. About nothing. About everything. Well, actually, Mikuni had talked, seemingly not caring that Jeje never said much back, incredible and beautiful and… Well, there was a reason everyone called Mikuni brilliant.

Jeje knew better, though.

***

The most annoying thing about Mikuni, in his opinion, is not how loud he is. It’s not his contrariness, or his capriciousness, or his constant, gnawing curiosity causing him to make mischief.

The most annoying thing about Mikuni was how badly he wanted people to think he was naturally good at everything.

See, Mikuni was smart. Jeje would give him that. But he was also very stupid. It wasn’t as if he lacked common sense, though sometimes Jeje wondered, but it was like Mikuni wanted people to resent him.

More than anyone Jeje had ever met, his Eve was a hard worker. Someone who hated owing others a single damn thing. It was that useless pride and sense of responsibility for things that couldn’t possibly be Mikuni’s fault, things Jeje suspected, no matter how much he denied it, Mikuni had learned, had internalized, from his father and from Lily, that was why Jeje refused to call Mikuni brilliant like everyone else.

...But he did shine. Like a candle in a darkened room. Like a beacon. Warm, and inviting, someone to warm himself beside, even knowing that that flame would burn him up, just like a moth.

The question was... Who would that flame melt into nothing first?

Jeje would be damned twice over if he let it be his Eve.

Turning away from way he had been watching the other man work late hours, hunched over Nod’s ledgers and planners and Mikuni’s own personal notebooks, where his pen scratched across the surfaces of each calculating profits, expenses, bills, new products and designs and promotions and planning trips, Jeje silently makes his way to their kitchen.

Burning the midnight oil just means you won’t have any left when you truly need it.

A snort, reaching for their cabinets. Of course, that’s what Mikuni had him for.

***

He’s gotten very good at brewing tea. Jeje isn’t much of a chef at all, but living with Mikuni for so long, it was practically guaranteed he’d learn to at least make a semi-decent cup, and thank god he had. He would have truly killed Mikuni by now if he hadn’t, he swears, the man is just as persnickety about his tea as Lily is with his coffee.

...He’s also gained a new appreciation for the stuff, but maybe that comes with the territory of spending hours upon hours listening to Mikuni’s one sided argument about the best ways to drink it. It’s hard not to be impressed with all the little details that goes into brewing what’s considered a perfect cup (by Mikuni’s standards, anyway), and even harder still to not feel a fondness for something that draws such genuine passion out of his once charge, now equal.

...It’s such an odd thought. He knows what people think. That Mikuni has always had a stranglehold on him. That Mikuni has always been in charge. That Mikuni has always been someone… Grown up.

Again. Jeje knows better.

He sets the temperature on their electric kettle, one purchased on one of their many visits to the British Isles, sits at their kitchen table, and waits. Thinks.

Mikuni has been grown up for a long time now. And he will continue to grow, and people will continue to think, no matter Jeje’s efforts, that he is a no good, conniving schemer who would sacrifice them all on a wish and a prayer and something like a maybe.

And, well, perhaps they aren’t wrong. Perhaps Jeje is a fool. But if he’s a fool, he’s a court jester, and as court jester he will make absolutely certain this time that the king does not make his mistakes without someone there to make fun of him for it, even if only behind closed doors, even if only between the two of them.

To everyone else, he is a dictator’s executioner, and that’s fine with him. Everyone else doesn’t matter.

His eyes drift to Mikuni’s favorite cup, one made of glass and painted with delicate, swooping strokes of gold, with lilies and a taupe lacquer surrounding all but a window through which one could admire the lovely colors of their favored drink. He takes it into his hands, so much larger than this tiny cup, and finds himself smiling as he turns the joint birthday gift from the Lust pair over and around, admires those intricate, fancy details that speak of quality and knowing down to the letter exactly what Mikuni’s tastes are.

Well.

Almost everyone.

***

The teapot has been warmed, the kettle filled with mineral water and piping hot, and by the time Jeje finishes steeping the loose leaf tea, their little kitchen clock, kitschy and cute and shaped like a cartoon chicken hatching from an egg, reads 2:17 in the morning.

Jeje picks up the cup, the container of melatonin supplements Mikuni has taken since he was twenty at his Servamp’s behest, and carefully carries both back to where he knows the other man will still be completely absorbed in his work.

True to form, Mikuni is still at it. The predictability of his late night, sleepless habits, of his need to do something with his time, makes Jeje’s frown deepen, ever so slightly.

He wishes Mikuni would just rest. Close his eyes, not do anything, just lie there and let Jeje guard him, just be still, be quiet, like did when he was a child.

… He knows better than to think a mind as stubborn and that moves as fast as his Eve’s could ever achieve that, but he can dream. He can also just sicc the Lust pair on him.

That’ll put him to bed real fast.

“What’re you grinning about over there?”

He startles, not having expected Mikuni to acknowledge his presence, and nearly sloshes hot chamomile with lavender onto the pretty little matching saucer that accompanied the cup. It’s a miracle it didn’t fall over completely. Jeje lets out a breath, so quiet it’s inaudible, and curses himself for forgetting that Mikuni can see him right now.

Then again, even if he was wearing his mask, Mikuni would have seen right through him.

He always does.

His Eve is watching him still, waiting for him to move, and then his eyes flick down to what Jeje has in his hands. His lips twist.

Jeje ignores it and continues to make his way over to where Mikuni had been peacefully working. They don’t speak a word to one another, and no sooner than Jeje sets his cargo down, he’s going back the way he came, knowing it’s useless to try and ply Mikuni with words or favors.

The man is annoying in his stubbornness, too.

He hears a sniff behind him, the scratch of pen on paper once more, but it isn’t long before that little noise stops again. A sigh. Jeje chances peering around the doorframe, smiling, just a tad, as a clearly frustrated Mikuni slaps his pen down onto the counter and picks up his cup, no doubt tempted by the smell of his favorite night time blend.

A swallow. Two.

Mikuni unscrews the lid on the melatonin gummies. Pops a couple into his mouth. Chews, and swallows. The tension leaves his shoulders. He allows himself to savor the warmth in his hands.

Jeje leaves him be and heads upstairs to their room, knowing Mikuni now won’t be far behind.

“Jeje,” Mikuni calls after him, voice soft in that way it sometimes, ever so rarely gets, so quiet Jeje almost misses it. “... You still really suck at this.”

Mikuni is annoying.

#kat's katerwauling #servamp #jekuni #servamp jeje #mikuni alicein #pawprints #it's done! #it's late but it's done!

[demivampirew]

Say no to this.

Henry x Reader (wife) x Reader (the other woman)

Triggers: Angst; cheating, breakup, divorce (and crying).

A/N: This was inspired by two songs from the musical Hamilton: Say No to This and Burn, and it’s told from the perspective of the characters (Henry, Reader (Wife), Reader (the other woman)

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist 

Having the chance to portray one of his favourite characters is an honour for which Henry will forever be thankful. Yet, he must admit that having to spend time apart from his family was not an easy task. 

He sat on the bed in the dark hotel room, only enlightened by the moonlight. On his phone screen, he saw the picture you’ve sent him earlier that day of you and your daughter playing, you dressed as a princess and the six-year-old as a dragon. “Oh, your mighty witcher, come and save me, please,” read the message under the picture. Henry missed dressing up in costumes and running around the house with his little angel, who would laugh uncontrollably every time he caught and started to tickle her.

It’s been over two months since he left for work; 60 plus days without feeling the lovely touch of your hands on his face, too much time without feeling the warmness of your body against his.

He laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling for an hour, unable to sleep when his phone announced that he had a new message.

“Are you awake? I can’t sleep,” y/n wrote. She was a friend he made on the set of the show - she worked as a personal assistant for one of the recurrent directors of the show and she was staying at the same hotel that Henry. “Yes. Can’t sleep either. Come if you want,” he replied, thinking that some company would help him to feel less lonely.

Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door. Henry opened the door and invited y/n to come in. Once inside, she faced him and smiled as she showed him the content of her bag: a PS and The Witcher 3 game. “I know you’re more into pc, but l don’t have a gaming pc here, so we will have to play with this, okay,” she said grinning.

“I remember you saying that you were good at this,” y/n while rolling her eyes, teasing him. “I am, but in the pc,” Henry defended himself with a playful smile.

They played the game for two hours before she suggested that it might be time for her to leave. Henry tried to disconnect the console from the tv but she told him to keep it, for now, so he could keep practising.

“Well, good night. I hope you can have a good sleep and tomorrow enjoy your free day,” y/n told him. “Same for you,” he said goodbye, but neither of them moved. They stared at each other for a long minute in silence. Henry’s hands reached for her face bringing it closer to his, culminating in a passionate kiss, while her arms embraced him.

Her naked body, covered only by the bed-sheets rested on the mattress as she slept. Henry looked at her for a moment and then walked towards the bathroom. He washed his face on the sink and then stared at the mirror, finding it hard to recognize the person that was reflected in the mirror. “I promise you that I will be forever faithful to you, my love” he once promised you, his lovely wife, and now the words echoed inside his mind, as stabs on his heart.

How could had he broken the promise he made you? Did he not loved you any more? No, that was sure of that, he loved you more than he had ever done. You no only made him happy and supported him through tough times, but you also gave him the thing that he treasured the most in the world: his daughter. But, he had to be honest with himself, for the first time in a long time and admit that things were not as they used to be. Before the birth of the little girl, you used to be inseparable. You would go with him everywhere in the world, game and laugh and made love every second you could. Now, you were parents; your lives centred on the precious angel and work and were often too tired and since the kid would like to sleep with you, often lacked intimacy.

The worst part of all: he wished that he could say that it was a one time mistake, but it became an affair that lasted for months.

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You hated yourself. In the past, you’d constantly criticized “the other woman” for being malicious women who stole men from others. Now you had become one of them. Well, no completely. Sure, you were carrying an affair with a married man, but you weren’t a fool, you knew that you would never be able to “stole” anyone and he would never leave his wife for you; he never made such a promise and you knew him well enough to know that he loved his family more than anything in the world and he was being vulnerable due to the distance between his true woman and him. Were you a bad woman for being with a taken man knowing that he was in such a delicate emotional position? Maybe, but to be completely honest, so were you. Months before you met Henry, your fiancé cancelled the wedding because he had fallen in love with somebody else. You were feeling lonely and undesired and you had developed a crush on him before that first night. So, you didn’t find the strength to fight the desire and succumb to the temptation.

Every night you’ve spent together, with his strong arms embracing you as his lips caressed your body, felt amazing no matter how wrong it was. And, even if your heart ripped every time you remembered that he wasn’t truly yours - and you were reminded of that constantly, since there was no a single time in which he hadn’t unconsciously said his wife’s name as he reached climax, you couldn’t find it in you to put it a stop.

You knew that this would have a bad end. No matter the outcome, someone would get hurt. 

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

That day, your sister offered to take care of your six-year-old so you could have some time to yourself to process things.

Desperate to get some distance and to be alone, you rented a small cabin outside the city.

The sun was coming down when you lifted a bonfire outside the place and sat in front of it with a box that you’ve carried there moments before.

Your fingers caressed every picture - of your first date, your first anniversary as girlfriend and boyfriend; vacations, birthdays and even your wedding. Every photo would get wet with your tears before you threw them into the fire. All objects that reminded of the love you once shared, ended up becoming ashes. Letters, poems, teddy bears, roses that you dried; everything. The only surviving things were the pictures you shared with your daughter, but you would make sure to send them to his mother because you didn’t want to see them any more, the pain was too great.

Finally, you took from your pocket the pictures you printed before to look at them for one last time. They were screenshots from a celebrity news website and the headline read “The Witcher star Henry Cavill is seen kissing a mystery woman”, followed by paparazzi photos of him with someone on the balcony of his hotel room. Angrily, you crashed the prints and let them burn into they became nothing.

With nothing more to do, you watched the flames, as you let your tears fall, feeling completely and utterly broken.

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

The production was over. After the news crashed, Henry had to continue filming, pretending that nothing happened, while some people looked at him as if he was a monster. Could he blame them for that?

When the article about his affair was published, his brother Charlie was the one who delivered the bad news - his stepdaughter had seen it and told him about it.

He didn’t know what to do. He called his wife over and over, but she never answered. All-day long he tried to communicate with his love, but every time without luck.

 Y/N tried to call him, too, but this time he was the one who ignored the call. He had nothing against her. Henry knew that she could no be blamed for his mistake, but he couldn’t talk to her right now. His wife was his priority.

Unfortunately, the only response he got from her was from her sister, two days later, letting him know that she was going to file for a divorce and she never wanted to see him or talk to him again. That she would only allow him to contact her, through her or another family member and elusively for things related to their daughter. She was going to share custody with him, but he would have to pick up and leave the girl on her sister or parent’s house.

Now, months later, he driving to his sister-in-law’s house to pick up his daughter and to leave the divorce papers that he had to sing.

There were no words to explain how much it hurt him to lose the woman he loved deeply. The only consolation was that his family continued to show him love and support as they always did. And, his daughter, unaware of the reason why her mommy and daddy decided to go separate ways, still love him enormously and would fill him with joy every minute of every day that he had her.

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

It was obvious that there was no going to be a good end to the affair - it never does. You knew someone would get hurt, but you’d never imagined that it would be all three of you.

Terrible didn’t even begin to explain how bad you felt. Of all the three of you, you were the one who got it the “best”, since luckily the pictures only showed your hair in a bun and your back, so only a few close people knew that it was you and they were polite enough to keep the secret to avoid you getting harassed. Although, just in case, you dried your hair and got a new haircut.

Henry’s wife filed for the divorce after she found out about the affair. He let you know via text when he put an end to things and told you he could no longer see you. Even if there was no chance to get back with her, he couldn’t be with you because he loved her too much and you reminded him of the mistake he made. As he suggested, you continued working for a few more weeks there to avoid people finding out that it was you, but later quit.

That was by far the worst mistake that you’ve ever made. So much people got hurt; a girl now has two parents that can’t be in the same room, two people who loved each other who can’t be together because the ghost of you would always be present to remind them of the mistake and a person who’s affection was never truly corresponded and caused the break of a family.

Therapy has been truly beneficial in helping you heal and leaving the past in the past.

Today a new article about Henry was posted online. It consisted of pictures of him and his cute girl buying a Christmas tree and he was laughing at his daughter's funny faces.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill angst #demivampirew

[schleierkauz]

Some Highlights from the 03.05 Stream

As usual, here’s some interesting bits of the last Cornelia Funke Q&A. I tried to structure it all a bit better this time but these talks are pretty chaotic sooo... bear with me. There’s more interesting stuff under the read more, I just put it there because it was getting so long. Anything in (brackets) is my own commentary. I hope you enjoy! :)

Inkworld

Q: What's the deal with the death bond between Mo and Dustfinger and will it be relevant in the new book? A: Since Dustfinger is probably immortal now, he’s been operating on a different level than Mo who is very much still mortal. Other than that, Cornelia doesn't want to reveal too much about TCoR for now. She worked on it the day before the stream, and she shows us the notebook she uses for it.

She thought she had a pretty good idea of what the story was going to be but more and more things keep happening and the book is already looking to be a lot longer and more complex than she intended.

- She will focus on TCoR once the move to Italy is complete and she's very excited about that since the Inkworld is essentially Magical Italy. She can't wait to sit in Volterra and write about Ombra.

- The TCoR sketch book might just be published at some point as a sort of bonus making-of book since it's already full of illustrations and other fun stuff

(That looks like the witch character, doesn’t it? I wonder who the other woman is... And god, I wish I could actually read the text. :/)

- The Inkworld exists around 1360 by our understanding of time

- The Mystery Chapter I translated ages ago is still canon! More info on that in the Reckless section

Q: Will we ever get to read the "original" Inkheart by Fenoglio? A: No, never. Cornelia's writing style is too different from Fenoglio's and she wouldn't be able to pull it off. 

However! Cornelia still hopes for an Inkworld TV show that would begin long before the story of the first book. She already has a notebook all about Dustfinger's and the Black Prince's childhoods, how they met each other as well as other characters such as Roxane etc. Fenoglio didn't care much for their backstories so Cornelia feels like she can explore them without stepping on his toes.

- A long time ago, Cornelia had an editor who thought Dustfinger was a bad character (lmao. imagine being that wrong.)

Reckless

Q: Will one of the short stories Cornelia wants to write about the Mirrorworld be about Nerron's mother? A: Interesting idea! She will consider it.

Q: Will Cornelia include African and/or Indigenous stories in the Mirrorworld? A: Yes! She planned to do it in the sixth book but right now it looks like it might happen in the fifth, so she's trying to figure out how to include South-American fairytales alongside African and Indigenous ones. She wants to include those stories through characters we meet along the way, without necessarily taking the story to those places directly. Or maybe she'll write a separate book entirely to do those fairytales justice. 

- The Mirrorworld exists around 1860 by our time

- Cornelia feels like there will be a lot of Mirrorworld spin-offs because she keeps having ideas and loves writing in that world

Q: Did Spieler (Player(?)), when he was in the "real" world, know about Capricorn and Fenoglio's Inkheart book? A: The silver book that makes people into silvertongues was created by Spieler. For a while he found it very convenient to travel the worlds through books but eventually he realised that books tend to develop a will of their own, which is why he ultimately decided to travel via mirrors. He probably knows about Fenoglio but Cornelia doesn't think he'd care much about Capricorn since he's playing in an entirely different league of villainy.

- Cornelia just signed a contract for a Reckless TV show

Cornelias new Farm in Italy

Q: Will she have animals on the new farm as well? A: Probably not! Right now she's more interested in befriending wild animals. Her dogs will stay with her but otherwise she wants to focus on wild animals as well as wild flowers. She wants to share her garden with any animal that stops by - including, hopefully, the occasional feral cat.

- Cornelia is getting into animation! She will work with a friend of hers who is a teacher in that field to create a little stop motion/animation studio on the farm so artists can bring their characters to life in a new way and create short movies.

Q: How can artists apply to be invited to the farm? A: Cornelia doesn't want people to apply directly, she'd rather leave it up to chance and fate. Most of her artists were recommended to her by friends or former colleagues and this method is working very well. She encourages people to post their work on the internet or send it to her via her website or twitter or something, she just doesn't want to hold contests regularly because it would be overwhelming and she doesn't want to have to reject people. Also, it's aimed at young artists who are just starting out and it’s mainly for girls/women, although not exclusively.

Side note, she plans to have another farm in Germany (probably in Schleswig-Holstein) and there will be other projects that happen there.

Q: Will it be possible to visit the farms, will they sell tickets? A: Cornelia doesn't want to sell tickets and definitely doesn't want "Disneyland vibes". The Mirror Farm (in Germany) isn't supposed to make money but she rather wants it to be a gift to her readers. They'll have to somehow limit how many people show up at once but there will be "open days" where anyone can just show up. Cornelia also wants to offer workshops or something similar herself once or twice a year, where people would have the chance to meet her in person.

Bonus: Life Lessons with Cornelia

Q: Does Cornelia have any advice for people in their mid-twenties who are not quite sure what to do with their lives? A: Figure out what you want to do and follow your heart because being stuck doing something you don't care about at all will make you miserable. And then it comes down to discipline and hard work. You might never get rich doing what you love but someone in their 20s is still young enough to try all kinds of different things and find a path that works. The important thing is actually following through instead of just endlessly thinking about what could be. Travel the world, try different jobs. Don't be fooled into thinking you have to go to university/college, that's nonsense. Knowing how to build a sturdy table or plant a good herb garden makes someone an artist in Cornelia's eyes. Listen to advice but don't blindly follow it. Don't be afraid to change your dreams. Make mistakes and learn from them. You live in one of the richest countries in the world, you won't starve or die on the streets so be grateful and be brave.

Misc.

- The three of them spend the first eight minutes of the stream telling us to visit this website and check out the cool bridge their bookshop is built on and the blackbird that moved into the store

- Cornelia's daughter got married and it was beautiful :)

- Cornelia is looking forward to moving to Italy and being closer to "us" and European artists. She says she'll miss California but she is incredibly tired of all the wild fires.

- Cornelia is now fully vaccinated 

- Cornelia is working on a book about two girls. One used to live in Germany in the 40s-50s, was blind and collected plants from all over the world with her father. She would write letters about those plants to her sister, and those letters are found one day by a girl from Brooklyn. She starts to go looking for the plants the letters are about in the botanical garden. Cornelia has an assistant who keeps sending her pictures from that botanical garden and it's a very fun project because it's very rooted in the real world yet Cornelia still gets to tell a story about a friendship that takes place through letters. She hopes to have finished it by August

- The Wild Chicks movie might just actually happen and everyone's excited about it

- An animated Igraine Ohnefurcht movie is in the works

- So is an animated Geisterritter/Ghost Knight movie

- Cornelia keeps losing books and other important things in the mail and it is pretty infuriating

- Cornelia recommends the book "Sand Talk" and once again says white people should be careful about not speaking over marginalised groups in the name of protecting them

#ly dont look #cornelia funke #reckless #inkheart #damn cornelia that's a lot of projects #she didnt even really answer my question but i'm just happy to be noticed honestly #i am..... so interested in the silvertongue lore ngl #i really have to catch up on reckless #also thank u cornelia for validating me dropping out of uni to go live by the ocean hfghfghkfd #info

[spookybreadstick]

Hey!!!! I was wondering if you could write a scenario for Toby confessing to his s/o 😳👉👈 - dancing parrot 🐦🎶🐦🎶

Okay so I wasn’t quite sure where I wanted to go with this, I had so many ideas it was hard to choose so I kind of meshed two of my favorite ideas into one lol. I hope it’s okay, it’s my longest (I’m pretty sure anyway) little scenario yet and I’m nervous/excited to post it. I personally think it’s kinda cute but uh let me know guys 😅 I also had it be Toby confessing that he has a crush on the reader, and for the purposes of this scenario the reader is female (I tried, but it’s harder than I thought to write gender neutral scenarios) 

NOTE: I am trying out different ways to incorporate Toby’s tics into the writing, because I think it is an important part of his character and I want to honor that while having it be respectful and also easier to read. I put his tics in * * so that it is easier to see when he’s having a verbal tic because otherwise it can look a lil funky. Let me know if this was an okay way to go about it, I’m still learning! 

🪓 Toby Confesses To His (Female) S/O  🪓

"Dude, stop star-staring. You're making it weird." Toby whispered to BEN, who was currently staring intently at you from a distance.

"How do you think I'm gonna help you if I don't know what I'm doing?" BEN barely glanced at Toby, who was fidgeting nervously beside him.

After a couple of seconds, BEN turned to Toby. "I don't know, dude. I need to see you guys in action."

"What does that mean?" Toby asked.

"Just go over and talk. Act natural. I need to see the vibe between you two." BEN said, nudging Toby towards you despite his whispers of protest.

Seeing Toby walk slowly towards you, you turned and greeted him. "Hey, Toby. What are you doing?"

"Uh, nothing. Just, uh, j-just walking..? He trailed off uncertainly.

You didn't seem to mind his awkward behavior, and continued to chat with him for another minute or two. Well, it was more like you were chatting at him rather than with him. Toby was just standing there uncomfortably, as he tried to will all of his tics away for a few minutes. It's hard when he's nervous and trying to make himself look good in front of you. Suddenly, you were being pulled away by one of the other pastas who wanted your opinion on something. Toby watched you leave the room, waving goodbye as you went.

"Dude. That was literally the worst thing I've ever seen." BEN appeared beside Toby, laughing.

"Knock *knock who's there?* knock it off." Toby gave him a slight shove.

"I can't help you if you're gonna be a dweeb about it." BEN shrugged.

"I'm not being a dweeb!" Toby cried indignantly.

"Okay, sure." BEN rolled his eyes.

"So?" Toby asked eagerly.

"So, what?"

"So, does she like me too?"

"I mean, she must like you at least a little. You were standing there like a goober, and she didn't care."

"BEN!"

"I'm sorry, but that was some classic comedy material right there. I could have made, like, a dozen jokes about the whole thing. All I'm saying is, she didn't take a golden opportunity to make fun of you, so maybe you do stand a chance after all."

"Okay, well, are you gonna help me *hide the body* help me win her over or what?" Toby crossed his arms.

"Nah. It's too much fun to watch you make a fool out of yourself." BEN grinned.

"Dude, seriously?"

"Look, I may be a man of talent, but I can't pass my flirt skills on to you. They'd just go to waste, man."

"Thanks a lot." Toby huffed.

"The best advice I can give you is to just relax, man. Just chill out, and don't act like you have rigor mortis. The whole time she was talking to you, you were rooted to the spot and your limbs were all tight. Don't do that. Just be loose and let it happen, you know?"

"Do you think I should tell her how I feel?" Toby asked timidly, shifting his weight from side to side. He really did like you. And he didn't always get so nervous around you, he reasoned to himself. He was better in groups, at least, when some of the attention was off of him.

"I don't know." BEN shrugged.

"You're talking about Y/N, right?" Hoodie asked, stepping into the room.

"Jesus, man, you scared the shit out of me!" BEN yelped.

"Sorry. Toby, do you have a crush on Y/N?"

"No! Why would you think *clink clink clink* that?"  

"You're pretty obvious about your feelings, Toby."

"D-do you think she knows?" Toby asked, dread crawling through his body. "I mean, it doesn't m-matter, it's not like I like her or anything, I just want to know." He added quickly, trying to cover his tracks.

"No, I don't think so." Hoodie replied, after a moment of thought.

"Why do you care?" BEN asked Hoodie, peering at him suspiciously.

Hoodie shrugged. "I don't care too much. Just figured Toby would want to know if she was dating somebody else. I mean, if he did like her." Hoodie cocked his head to the side, looking at Toby through his mask.

"W-what do you mean? She's dating somebody?" Toby's hand began to involuntarily rub at his neck.

"Not yet anyway. But I did hear that Jeff might ask her out." Hoodie said casually.

"Jeff? Tha-" BEN's words were quickly cut off by Hoodie smacking him in the side. Toby's mind was too preoccupied with visions of you and Jeff together, that he didn't notice.

"S-shit. Do... do you think she'd say y-yes?" Toby asked apprehensively.

"I don't know. But if you did have feelings for Y/N, which you say you don't, but if you did then you should probably tell her how you feel before Jeff does. Just in case." Hoodie said pointedly.

Toby nodded his head several times before yelling about how he had to do something (something totally unrelated) and then dashing out of the room.

~~

Toby ran down the lengths of the corridors, desperate to find you before Jeff could. His heart pinched to think of what would happen if you did decide to go out with Jeff. He couldn't bear it.

Toby was so lost in his thoughts that he narrowly missed running directly into Sally, who was wandering the halls as well.

"Sorry, Sally, I gotta go." Toby puffed, out of breath.

"Toby! You gotta come play with me!" Sally looked at him with eyes full of childish begging.

"Not now, Sal." Toby bounced impatiently, waiting for her to move.

"Toby Rogers, you come play with me right now!" Sally crossed her arms. "Or I'll tell Slendy that you were being mean to me."

Toby looked down at her in shock. "You wouldn't."

Sally stuck her tongue out playfully. Toby sighed, then ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Fine! *Fine wine, very fine wine* I-I'll go play with you. But it has to be quick, I'm really *busy bee* busy!" Toby pleaded.

"Okey-dokey!" Sally exclaimed happily, grabbing Toby's hand and pulling him along to her playroom.

~~

When Toby entered Sally's playroom, he was expecting to find the table set for tea, with various stuffed animals positioned into chairs and dressed in different colored tutus. That wasn't a surprise. What was an unexpected surprise, however, was finding you sitting in one of Sally's pink plastic chairs. Toby skidded to a stop, like a deer in headlights, taking in the sight of you perched in the tiny chair with a princess tiara on your head.

"Hi, Toby." You waved slightly. "Like the tiara?"

"Uh, yeah. It, um, it looks-it looks great." Toby stuttered out.

"We're going to play Princess Tea Time." Sally announced loudly, putting on a tiara of her own. 

"Y/N and I are going to be princesses, of course." Sally gestured to the matching tiaras.

"Tickles and Marmalade will be the Ladies-in-Waiting." Sally pointed to a pink bear and a blue triceratops. "Larry is going to be a knight, and my very romantic fiance." She gestured to a manatee.

"And Toby is going to be the prince from another kingdom that comes to tea!" Sally beamed.

Toby plastered a big fake smile on his face before Sally's game of play-pretend began.

~~

The three of you had been playing for a good twenty minutes, and Toby had been having a good time in spite of the circumstances. He had been enjoying himself enough to have forgotten about the whole Jeff thing entirely. Sally was serving real cookies, and there was fruit punch in the pink teapot. Sally is an excellent little actress, and she had adopted an over-the-top British accent to go with her whole "diva princess madly in love with the lowly knight" vibe that she had going. Toby found himself relaxing as time went on, and he found his ability to actually converse like a normal person. He had even made a few jokes that you'd laughed at.

However, Sally decided it was high time to raise the stakes of her little game.

"Prince Toby, what just fell out of your pocket?" Sally asked, pointing to a spot of nothing on the floor. She leaned over to pick up nothing off the floor, then pretended to 'read' whatever it was. She gasped dramatically, hands over her heart.

"Prince Toby! This letter states your love for Princess Y/N!" Sally exclaimed. "And just when were you going to confess to my dear sister?"

"I-I-um, I-" Toby stuttered, unable to think of how to play along. This was becoming too close for comfort.

"It's true?!" Sally gasped dramatically once more, ignoring Toby's failed acting attempt. "Good heavens! Sister, what do you think?"

"I... I don't know, dear sister. What ever should I do?" You asked Sally, half-playing along.

"Well, we have to determine if Prince Toby's love for you is true." Sally turned to Toby excitedly. He stared at her blankly in return. 

"Well? Go on, tell her how you feel." Sally urged.

Toby looked at you and suddenly words starting coming out of his mouth that seemed to stumble right from his heart. "I don't know how to act when I'm around you, because you make me so nervous. You're the most amazing person I've ever met in my life. You're like... like a goddess to me. You're so beautiful, and kind, and you're always so nice to me of all people, and I really wanted to tell you this before, especially since there's other guys that want your heart, but I was scared of what you'd say..." Toby trailed off, heart racing. "I, uh, that's how the prince, I mean me, that's how I feel about you. Princess Y/N." Toby tripped over his words, trying to act like it was all part of the game.

"Now that was romantic." Sally sighed happily.

~~

The game ended shortly after that, due to Slender calling Sally downstairs so she could watch some cartoons that she liked, which was a good thing since Toby could hardly bring himself to look you in the eyes. He worried that you had read between the lines and realized that his words were actually true. Sally had just skipped out of the room when Toby stood and faced you. You stood as well, plucking your tiara from your head and fiddling with it.

"That was a pretty intense game." You half-laughed after several beats of awkward silence.

"Y-yeah, it was." Toby looked at the ground.

"Sally's got quite the imagination."

"Yeah. *Yeah, yeah*"

"You do too."

"What?"

"I mean, coming up with that whole thing about how the prince feels about the princess? That was pretty creative."

"Oh, yeah... about that..." Toby trailed off. "S-sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything."

"No, no, it's fine. You were just playing the part." You smiled to try to put his obvious nerves at ease.

"But-but I wasn't." Toby looked you in the eyes.

"You weren't?"

"No, I..." Toby drew in a deep breath. "I really like you."

"In what way?" You asked, half in a whisper.

"That-that way. The-the lovey kind of way?" Toby half-whispered back, unsure of your reaction.  

"Really?" Your eyes brightened with hope.

"I like you so much and I really want to be your-your....your prince." Toby looked down at his hands, before glancing back at you. "If-if you want me to. I get it if you d-don't like me..."

"No!" You cut him off. "I like you, too."

"In that same way?" Toby glanced at you hopefully.

"Yes. In that same lovey kind of way." You repeated his words with a smile on your face.

Toby's entire face lit up with joy as he pulled you in close for a hug and maybe a kiss.

~~

"Guess things worked out for old Toby after all." BEN mentioned to Hoodie after the two of you announced to the mansion later that day that you were together.

"I guess they did." Hoodie commented. 

"What about the whole Jeff thing, though? He never mentioned anything to me, and I'm his best friend, and then you practically body-slammed me earlier when I was talking about it." BEN turned to face Hoodie.

"Oh, I made that all up." Hoodie said casually taking a sip of the drink he was holding.

"What? Dude, why?" BEN shook his head in confusion.

"Because," Hoodie began as he looked across the room at the happy new couple, "he would never have told her otherwise if I didn't give him just a little push."  

#🪓 #🐦🎶 #🐦 dancing parrot anon #💖 requests #creepypasta scenarios #🎀 scenarios #🪓 toby rogers 🪓 #ticci toby #toby rogers #creepypasta toby rogers 🪓 #toby rogers x reader #🪓 ticci toby 🪓 #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #spookybreadstick

[robininthelabyrinth]

Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8, pt 9

- Chapter 10 -

Everyone did believe that Meng Yao had been robbed in love. It even got to the point that Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen – both somehow taken by surprise by it, he had no idea how, given that it was so obviously the result he was aiming for – spent a great deal of time behind doors trying to make sure Meng Yao didn’t feel bad about it, which was very nice, if unnecessary, of them.

He assured them that he didn’t mind the gossip at all, but, well, if they were offering to spoil him…

More importantly, Wen Ruohan believed it, too, just as he’d hoped, and his belief that Meng Yao belonged to him was shored up to the point of being nigh-unbreakable, just as Meng Yao had intended. His comments on the subject, made in a small break during a Discussion Conference when Nie Mingjue was enduring a lecture from Lan Qiren, were sticky sweet and suffocating and revolting to the point that it tested even Meng Yao’s well-practiced façade.

Interestingly enough, Wen Ruohan didn’t seem to be jealous of the relationship, or even to mind its existence, as Meng Yao would have expected given his now years-long obsession. Unfortunately, he also didn’t stop his usual antics – which probably formed part of the basis for Lan Qiren’s lecture, come to think of it. He seemed to regard it as little more than a childish lark, a passing whim scarcely worth noticing; as if it didn’t matter what Nie Mingjue did because he knew, or thought he knew, how everything would end.

It was, Meng Yao reflected, the sort of thing that would drive a lesser man up the wall with rage.

Wen Ruohan did express a mild curiosity as to how far things between Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen had gone, but luckily was just barely self-aware enough not to ask the supposedly jilted Meng Yao to find out more details for him.

As a result, Meng Yao was able to nod along with his recruitment speech without having to swallow back too much bile.

“You’ve always been very kind to me, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, his voice as sincere as he could make it. “I find that I’m often overlooked, given my status, though of course Sect Leader Nie’s needs must come first…”

“That is not necessarily true,” Wen Ruohan hummed. “You are just as worthy as he, with as many needs; are you not human, too? Why should you be the one overlooked?”

“Qinghe Nie values strength of arms,” Meng Yao demurred. “And mine is – lacking. There can be no comparison.”

“It must be difficult to be somewhere where you don’t fit in,” Wen Ruohan said sympathetically, as if he had any notion of such a thing. “Especially when you know there are places where you would fit in much better, if only you had a chance.”

Meng Yao heaved a sigh. “I have long ago given up hope of – other places,” he said, dropping obvious hints with his body language that the hope was merely dashed, not gone. “One should be content with one’s place.”

“Never be content with anything,” Wen Ruohan told him, his own voice slightly more sincere than usual, and it might be the only honest thing the man had ever said to him. His own personal motto, no doubt. He dropped his hand on Meng Yao’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should make more time for yourself – there are some areas in Qishan where you could go night-hunting to earn some glory, and I think you would find the game there to your liking. Especially, oh, around the end of the month?”

Meng Yao allowed himself a small victorious smile, and let Wen Ruohan think that he had convinced him that he had wanted the recruitment all along – a perfect catch, after years of setting out lures.

“That sounds like an excellent suggestion,” he said, and even meant it. “My skills have grown rusty, staying in the office so much…though I only fear I do not know the way. You know that Sect Leader Nie does not trust me at the border.”

He did, of course, but what would be the point of sending him there? Meng Yao’s skill was in logistics and management; while that was useful in active battle it would be utterly wasted in patrolling their well-armed borders to help pep up morale. But it was easy enough to make it appear to be a slight.

“You are capable of doing anything you put your mind to,” Wen Ruohan said encouragingly. “But you are right in acknowledging limits, and should not fear to turn to – capable guidance, when you find difficulty in finding your own way.”

Meng Yao lowered his eyes, full of triumph – for real, this time. “I am honored that Sect Leader Wen is willing to instruct me.”

Wen Ruohan patted him on the shoulder again, then went off his own way. Meng Yao turned to do the same, and abruptly saw Lan Wangji standing in the distance, looking out a window at the sky; it gave him a start, wondering if the younger man had seen. Hopefully not, or at least he’d hopefully know to keep his mouth shut – Meng Yao would have to go feel him out later.

The work never ended, he thought to himself with a sigh, and returned to Nie Mingjue’s side before his sect leader broke something trying to keep his mouth shut while talking to Lan Xichen’s uncle about righteous conduct, a subject on which the Lan sect seemed to think they had the final say and on which Nie sect principles were wildly and fundamentally different.

(Lan Wangji seemed to act the same as always when Meng Yao talked to him later – which was to say, virtually expressionless except for whatever it was that Lan Xichen claimed he could read in his posture, and still hilariously distractable with news of Wei Wuxian, who he’d met for all of a few months during the lessons in the Cloud Recesses that Nie Huaisang had finally passed – and that was a relief. The less Meng Yao had to think about what he was doing when he wasn’t actively doing it, the better.)

Getting permission – and publicly – to go out night-hunting was easy enough, since Nie Mingjue actively enjoyed slaughtering evil beasts for the good of mankind and thought that everyone else did too; he only needed to casually mention that it had been a while since he’d had time to go out to stretch his legs and Nie Mingjue immediately suggested that he go out on a night-hunt.

Convincing him not to come along with was slightly more difficult, especially when he mentioned that he’d heard some whispers of a demonic presence near the border with Qishan – Wen Ruohan was certainly demonic enough, in Meng Yao’s opinion – but with his position it wasn’t difficult to juggle the paperwork schedule to ensure that there was far, far too much work for Nie Mingjue to accompany him.

Arranging that Lan Xichen come to visit shortly before he left was an extra perk that Meng Yao included for both of them – for himself, getting to spend a wonderful day in the presence of someone infinitely more relaxing than Nie Mingjue, and for Nie Mingjue, getting to spend time on paperwork with someone infinitely more sympathetic than Meng Yao, who truly enjoyed the process of comparing long lists of received goods with each other to see if something was missing.

He’d miss Lan Xichen’s departure due to his night-hunt, but that was good, too – him going off to an atypical night-hunt would be understood by the majority of the cultivation world as a huffy retreat to avoid having to see his former lover and his superior together, and no one would think twice about it.

Once it was all set up, it was only a matter of waiting.

Wen Ruohan was confident in him, Meng Yao knew, and rightfully so: if he’d really been the person he’d been displaying in his presence since childhood, Wen Ruohan’s tricks would have snared him without question. A fool with an endless pit in his heart, greedy for affection and too stupid to be able to realize that no amount of glory would satisfy that greed, cunning but having no heart to see the bigger picture…dumb enough to agree to go meet Wen Ruohan, but smart enough to demand a measure of trust before he did.

A measure of trust – like the guide he’d insisted on.

Like the identify of whoever it was that had been so-cleverly dropping off all those letters, over all those years. Whoever it was had to have a considerable position in the Unclean Realm since the time Lao Nie had been in charge, and corrupted by Wen Ruohan since way back then; someone who had the freedom of the interior parts of the fortress, someone trusted, with good enough martial arts to avoid being spotted even when Meng Yao was specifically looking to identify them.

He’d run some tests and confirmed to his satisfaction that it seemed to be the same person each time, so there was only one high-level spy he needed to be concerned about – there were others, of course, but Meng Yao knew about those, and what he knew he could manage.

Or, well, Nie Zonghui could manage, he supposed. Nie Zonghui was technically the one in charge of managing personnel, or at least he was whenever he wasn’t stuck on some type of body-guarding duty – while they hadn’t shared classes due to the age gap between them, Nie Zonghui being older, Meng Yao knew that they’d had all the same ones, preparing them for much the same role. Between the two of them as advisors, Nie Zonghui was better suited for fighting and advising on situations involving imminent death, and they'd generally divided the work accordingly, but he was more than competent enough at managing spies and Meng Yao had handed the job off to him with great satisfaction. It worked very well.

Well, as long as Nie Zonghui didn’t turn out to be the traitor, anyway.

Meng Yao sincerely hoped he wasn’t. Nie Zonghui’s hobby was learning saber forms, and he spent all his free time on it to the point that he made Nie Mingjue’s training schedule look reasonable – Nie Mingjue was still the more powerful of the two, but only because he had ridiculously high cultivation for someone his age.

(That high cultivation had made his position as sect leader secure and allowed him to earn a name and a title and respect throughout the cultivation world, but Meng Yao wasn’t the only one that worried about how Nie sect cultivators died of qi deviation once they got too powerful. But Nie Mingjue was fairly stable for the moment, despite his rapid advancement, and Lan Xichen had devoted himself to trying to find a way to keep it that way – Meng Yao thought he might allow himself some room to hope.)

It turned out that the traitor wasn’t Nie Zonghui.

It was Wu Bixian, one of the army commanders, which was not quite as bad but only slightly.

Wu Bixian was from a smaller sect very close to Qinghe, a part of the Nie clan by marriage to one of the closer cousins. He was a good warrior, a tolerable commander, and had once had the occasion to save Lao Nie’s life in their youth together – he had been in a position of trust for a long time. He was wealthy, in the way most members of the Nie sect were with the sect’s treasury at their back and night-hunts to their name (Nie Mingjue’s comment as a child that the money ran free and easy once you started night-hunting wasn’t wrong) and he had a good wife, a few children, a saber of his own, moderately strong cultivation that was slowly gaining in strength…He had never shown any interest in acquiring more power than he had, no lust for domination, nothing like that.

He seemed content.

He was one of the ones that made snide comments about Meng Yao’s mother and had initially tried to refuse to take Meng Yao’s orders, even the ones that came straight from Nie Mingjue, until Nie Mingjue had personally told him to cut it out or else accept a demotion in favor of someone who could follow orders, but given how early the letters had started landing on Meng Yao’s desk, his betrayal must have happened far earlier than that incident and could not be the inciting factor.

Meng Yao had no idea what sort of things had Wen Ruohan offered to turn him, but whatever it was, he hoped Wu Bixian had enjoyed it while it lasted because he was going to kill him.

“It is kind of Commander Wu to take time out of his day to assist me,” he murmured, lowering his eyes to hide his rage even as his voice remained sweet and gentle.

“Sect Leader Nie wanted to make sure you were safe,” Wu Bixian said, and for half a second there Meng Yao wondered if it had been some sort of terrible miscommunication because he could see Nie Mingjue doing that, but then Wu Bixian continued, “I thought it would be good for someone like you to have a proper guide to teach you.”

If he had used anything like that language around Nie Mingjue, he wouldn’t have been allowed to come help, and that meant that Wu Bixian was in fact the right contact.

“I will follow in your footsteps,” Meng Yao said, still playing cautious. He saw a smirk steal over the other man’s face, smug and arrogant, and they left without another word between them.

With Commander Wu with him, finding a place to cross the territory line into Qishan without being spotted was easy – and worrisome, of course – and it wasn’t long before they arrived at the forest glade where Wen Ruohan was waiting for them.

His retainers had already set up a place for them to take tea, with him sitting above and them below, and even his traveling chair resembled the throne to which Wen Ruohan believed himself to be entitled.

Before they left the woods, Wu Bixian elbowed Meng Yao in the side, hard. “None of the backtalk you sometimes give Sect Leader Nie,” he instructed. “You ought to count yourself as very lucky that Sect Leader Wen has come himself to meet with you – he puts a high priority on the affairs of Qinghe Nie.”

That meant that Wu Bixian thought himself better than Wen Ruohan’s other spies in other territories, which were probably only good enough to report to a Wen disciple, or maybe Wen Xu if they were especially prominent.

Arrogance was good. Meng Yao could use arrogance.

He knelt in front of Wen Ruohan, giving him the deference he longed for – he’d only ever knelt to Nie Mingjue once, when he’d sworn an oath to him as part of becoming an official disciple of the Nie sect, and it had been outrageously awkward for them both – and Wen Ruohan smiled.

“You made a wise choice,” he said. “Qinghe Nie will not remain standing and independent for much longer. Only those that realize the truth will have a chance to influence the future.”

“Sect Leader Wen’s strength is undeniable,” Meng Yao said, because his mother taught him how to say the words that men wanted to hear. His mother as she used to be, before Sisi came back into her life and made her happy – his mother, who now spent some time being mistress of Qinghe, some time traveling, some time merely visiting other places with Sisi at her side; his mother, who asked him if he was happy with Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen, who accepted his answer and sought to aid him as much as she could; his mother, who loved him, well if not always wisely. “I do not wish to be on a sinking boat when I could join the rising tide.”

There was a bit more of that, mostly mutual ego-stroking and puffery, but finally Wen Ruohan got to the point: “What is it that you want?”

“My rightful inheritance,” Meng Yao said, because it was the safest thing to ask for. He didn’t really care if Wen Ruohan got rid of Jin Guangshan, after all, and Nie Huaisang’s reports hadn’t been especially positive in regards to Jin Zixuan – Wen Ruohan would probably just disinherit him in favor of Meng Yao, and leave him alive to cause Meng Yao too many problems to have time to rebel. And it was much safer than asking for anything else. “The venerable Sect Leader Wen is above such petty matters as gossip, of course, but he undoubtedly already knows…my father…”

“The Jin sect is a pearl of great value,” Wen Ruohan said lazily. “Do you think your service can justify such a reward?”

“I am sure of it,” Meng Yao said, full of confidence.

“And there’s nothing else you want?”

Meng Yao hesitated, having not anticipated that question the way he had others, and Wen Ruohan laughed to see him. “I told you before not to be content,” he said with a smile Meng Yao did not trust. “You have chosen wisely to trust in the power of the sun, and in the heat of its rays, from the ashes of the old ways, too stiff in their rules to change, you will be rewarded with your heart’s desire.”

Meng Yao smiled. “I await your excellency’s benevolence with eagerness, to give me light where I have been blind.”

He bowed and took his leave, heading back to Qinghe with the heads of some fierce corpses to show as the results of his hunt – Wen Ruohan was thoughtful, in some ways – and left Wu Bixian behind to discuss further matters to which Meng Yao was still too new to hear: an excellent people management stratagem to whet Meng Yao’s jealousy of Wu Bixian’s position, while also assuaging any concerns Wu Bixian had regarding his primacy.

The second he was out of sight, he pulled Chiwen out of the qiankun pouch he’d tucked into his sleeve – sabers generally disliked small places like that, but Chiwen had always been extremely understanding of the indignities one had to suffer to achieve greatness – and threw him down, leaping on top of him and hurrying forward at break-neck speed, and even so he only just barely managed to catch Lan Wangji before he disappeared back into the woods.

(He hadn’t realized that Lan Wangji was suspicious at first, despite him having coming willingly to the Unclean Realm alongside Lan Xichen and being even less social than usual; it wasn’t until that very morning, when he’d murmured some denial about having plans for the day – and Lan Wangji always had plans for the day – that Meng Yao had realized that he might need to keep an eye out for a tail.)

Lan Wangji was stiff as a board, his hand already sliding to Bichen on his waist; Meng Yao ignored it.

“You need to go back to the Cloud Recesses,” he said. “As soon as possible.”

Lan Wangji paused. “Why?”

“Because Wen Ruohan is going to burn it down,” Meng Yao said flatly. “The Lan sect doesn’t have the ability to stop him, but if you go now, you can pack away your sect’s most valued treasures and hide them away somewhere safe before they do.”

“Why?” Lan Wangji asked again, still wary, only this time he meant why are you telling me this.

“Because you have to make sure Lan Xichen isn’t there,” Meng Yao said. “He’ll hate it and he’ll fight having to run away with every ounce of will he has, but he can’t be there – or else everything will be so much worse.”

“Sect Leader Wen told you?”

“He all but promised me Lan Xichen as a prize for my cooperation.” Lan Wangji flinched, and Meng Yao nodded grimly. “Make sure he has a safe place to go. The Nie sect will come to your aid, nominally, but the real purpose will be to make it seems as though the Wen sect has defeated two Great Sects in one blow – it will be devastating to the morale of the smaller sects, and convince many of them to just give in to Wen domination rather than fight back...listen, come up with whatever reason you have to in order to convince them, but don't explain where you learned of the information. You understand?”

Lan Wangji nodded slowly. “You plan to spy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Meng Yao said, because he was far beyond planning at this point. But he knew, as Lan Wangji might not, that the elders of the Lan sect would never listen to Sect Leader Jin's bastard son or Sect Leader Nie's aide, so recently jilted in love - they weren't like Nie Mingjue or Lan Xichen, who would understand. “Listen, empty the Library Pavilion in advance, wait until they’ve started burning the other buildings, and then set fire to it yourself. If you defend it as if it’s full, maybe you can convince the Wen sect that they’ve done more damage than they really have.”

He shook his head – he’d been hoping to have more time, but the winds of war always came more swiftly than hoped. “Good luck, travel fast, and above all tell no one.”

#mdzs #meng yao #jin guangyao #wen ruohan #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #three gates

[maxwell-grant]

Downfall of a Dark Avenger Part 1: El Sombra

Having finished reading Al Ewing’s El Sombra trilogy and having had enough time to digest it, I’d like to talk about the trajectory of it’s titular protagonist, the character and series’s relationship with it’s influences. Relating to The Shadow and Zorro and general pulp archetypes, and also the way it incorporates Astro Boy’s Pluto into the mix. My interest in Pluto’s imagery led to me reading Naoki Urasawa’s Pluto, and I will go into the correlation between all of these seemingly random sources coming together. 

But before we can talk about what El Sombra becomes, we must talk about what he is, and where he starts.

The very first chapter of El Sombra is dedicated to establishing the happy scenery of the village of Pasito, as a big wedding is drawing the entire town together, eager to see one of it’s greatest heroes marry his sweetheart. We get a great description of said hero Heraclio...and then the reveal that the character we’re gonna be following for the rest of the story is not Heraclio, but instead his loser brother Djego, a morose, slow-witted poet largely considered a joke by the village, currently being rejected and beaten by the love of his life, which is just about the 2nd worst thing that happens to him that day, followed by winged Nazis storming the village, murdering scores of men, women and children, killing Djego’s brother as he watches helplessly, and then said brother cursing Djego with his dying breath as Djego just barely escapes into the desert, with nothing but a sword and a wedding sash in hand. Djego is probably the last man in the village anyone could have possibly expected to become a hero (which may be part of why he ended the way he did). 

Cut to 9 years later, Pasito has been transformed into a mechanized nightmare, a clockwork city of endless toiling and suffering ruled by Nazis, freely enacting their every dark whim on it’s population, revealed to be little more than just a large-scale experiment conducted by the Nazis to increase workforce enough to match Britain’s. After two agonizing chapters with little more than Nazi atrocities to occupy our time, we get our first look at the intrepid hero, Djego. And how does El Sombra introduce himself? Through laughter.

The laughter. Rich and strong, echoing around the square, freezing the milling workers in their tracks. An awful laugh - a terrible laugh of hope and joy and strength! A sound that had not been heard in the clockwork-town for nine years.

as the sound of laughter echoed across the town, the men shuddered and glanced at each other briefly, as though hearing the first sounds of an approaching storm.

The smile on the creature's face was powerful and confident and utterly unafraid. To Alexis, it seemed like the smile the devil might have in the deepest pits of Hell.

For the most part, El Sombra is heavily modeled after Zorro. He’s got Zorro’s swashbuckling fighting style, wields primarily a sword, his main outfit is styled partially after Douglas Fairbanks’s costume, he can be quite friendly and charming and peppers an “amigo” at every sentence. His name is the same as Diego’s minus one letter, his main enemies specifically consist of tyrants who rule over his town, and his mission of vengeance gradually turns him into a rebellious, inspirational figure for the city he strives to liberate. El Sombra is Zorro vs Nazis and it delivers on that.

But nothing is ever quite as it seems in this trilogy, and the first installment of El Sombra goes to great lenghts to establish that El Sombra is a long, long way from being the pure and heroic fantasy that Zorro embodies. He doesn’t live in a world where problems can be solved with guile, luck, good swordplay and a good smile. He doesn’t live in a world where he can show up, humble imperialists and get the people behind him. He lives in a world where the only recourse available to him, to even stand a chance, was nine years of an extended fugue state trip through the desert, ingesting hallucinogens, having his soul shattered and then repaired into something much, much darker. And it’s in those moments that we start to see why exactly his name is El Sombra.

There was something in his voice as cold and unyielding as a gravestone.

"Djego is dead, Father Santiago. He was useless and stupid and pathetic. And he died and left good flesh behind. So I took his place." The eyes behind the mask met Santiago's then, and the priest breathed in sharply. There was nothing of Djego in them. There was nothing human in them.

Something bigger had lodged there, something stronger and faster than a man, something with a laugh that could shake mountains and a spirit like hot iron and fire. Something better.

"I am his shadow. El Sombra."

Atop of his inhuman speed and agility and skill at combat and murder, Djego repeteadly demonstrates skills and traits that, not only did he not have prior, but he couldn’t have picked simply in his desert sojourn. He knows how to apply advanced first aid, he speaks German, in Gods of Manhattan he is able to get the drop on Blood-Spider with a textbook Shadow hypnotic trick, and for all of those, the only explanation he gives is a shrug and “I picked it up somewhere”. Djego had the same trip to the unknown that defined The Shadow and so many other pulp heroes, except Ewing never provides any explanation for El Sombra’s advanced skills other than what the character says. Because there is no explanation. El Sombra is bigger than that. 

El Sombra has to be, because a mere man with training and skills and strength and inspirational heroism isn’t going to cut it against what he’s up to. His brother had all of those things, and he died in the first chapter. Like The Shadow, El Sombra has warped himself to address calamity upon mankind, and morphed into something bigger and darker than just another vigilante. 

In that moment, El Sombra knew himself to be no longer a man. He was, instead, what the ticking clock had made of him. He was a monster.

In fact, with the devil imagery Ewing grants upon El Sombra at points, and the reocurring “itch in the back of the skull” prelude to crucial moments, you can pinpoint exactly the points where El Sombra’s character traits would later manifest in Immortal Hulk, with Ewing’s reinvention of the Hulk plumbing the darkest possible alternatives for said character by digging into the greater horror roots of the character. This will be more relevant when we get to Pluto though.

But to put it plainly, Djego may be Zorro in every aspect at his surface. He may desperately strive to be Zorro, and it may be his Zorro traits that allow him to truly save Pasito. But Djego is not Zorro. He is El Sombra, as illustrated most in the following sequence. The moment where he pulls the most Shadow-esque destruction of a Nazi ever since The Shadow convinced a Nazi general to gut himself with his own sword.

The chained man began to laugh. Softly at first, then louder, the sound rolling through the quiet, cold room like the skeletons of winter leaves in a chill and bitter wind. It was not a laugh of joy, or of hope, or of strength, or of anything associated with sunlight and clean air. It was a laugh that belonged in these dank and fetid conditions, a snide chuckle, a sneering, contemptuous snicker. A laugh like a thousand beetles marching across a sheet of glass.

It was a sound that would have been sickeningly familiar to anyone who had once been a guest of the Palace Of Beautiful Thoughts. The old man started back, looking at the features of his chained captive, breathing in sharply as the handsome face of the terrorist became foreign and strange, warped by the noise emanating from it. He recognised the sound too, recognised the dry, hollow chuckle. And it chilled him.

The chained man turned his head, as though on aged bones, and smiled, a dry and sinister grin. And then he spoke. And the voice that came from his throat did not belong to El Sombra at all.

The chained man spoke with Master Minus' voice.

The chained man's smile froze him in his tracks. It promised terrible cruelty, a mephistophilean love of manipulation, and the eyes sparkled with fire from the depths of Hell itself. The old man sucked in another breath scented with sickly yellow and looked desperately away, to find himself staring once again at the mirror, at the face that was surely not his own...

The old man, who suddenly felt neither old nor a man, raised his hands, fingertips touching the aged, wrinkled face with the unfamiliar eyes. Could he fool himself that his fingertips travelled across soft, worn flesh, lined with years of service? Or was he feeling sterile plastic, soft, loose latex? He shuddered, the motion travelling up his spine, his hands shivering and twitching as he tugged ...

"Take off the mask."

... and the old, wrinkled, false face was torn away, coming off in long strips, pulled away bit by bit to reveal another face underneath. His eyes were wide, unblinking, unable to close as he stared at the face underneath, the face that had been there all the time.

Behind him, the thin beetle-voice spoke once more.

And this is what it said:

"APRIL FOOL! Quién es el hombre? Quién es el hombre? I'm the hombre! I'm the hombre! Now all I need are some pants."

El Sombra grinned down from the vertical rack at Master Minus, slumped on his knees in front of the blood spattered mirror, staring without eyelids at the remains of his face. He had succeeded in tearing all of the flesh from it, and all that remained were a few scraps of muscle clinging to a crimson, bloodstained skull, with two grotesque eyeballs gazing mercilessly at their own reflection. El Sombra smiled and did the voice, again while he made another attempt to work his left hand free of the shackle that held it in place.

"Creatures of the night... what music... they make... I vant to suck your blooood... yeah, you keep looking, amigo. Intense shame boosted by mind-warping drugs, hey? That's very original, I wouldn't know what that's like at all... ah, these bastard cuffs!" He was babbling, a result of the endorphin rush from the intense pain and the thrill of victory. 

The yellow mist coursing through his veins - the mist Master Minus relied on so heavily - had been counterbalanced by the Trichocereus Validus already in his system, the desert cactus that had destroyed and rebuilt his mind. But while El Sombra was in a stronger position than the torturer realised, Master Minus was weaker than he knew, far too used to the easy victories the mist brought him, not realising that his own exposure to it made him ripe for psychological attack. The old man had spent years claiming that he was immune to the yellow mist, but nobody had ever been in a position to test that claim - until now.

In the end, El Sombra is able to drive the Nazis out of Pasito, and he’s succeded in ultimately inspiring the population to rally against them, eventually winning not because of said darkness granting him power, but by turning said darkness into a tool of good. The true victories of El Sombra are not in the violence, but in selfless heroism, in actions big and small. And in the end, He’s given even the opportunity of a happy ending, to settle down in the town he’s wanted so long to rescue. And if this were the story of Djego, the poet turned hero of his hometown, that’s where it would end. 

But this is not Djego’s story. It’s the story of a man who’s destroyed himself to be rebuilt as an avenging force of nature. Someone who’s subsumed as much of his humanity as he could, who now can see and done things much beyond the scope of ordinary man, and now must pay the price of said terrible gifts. Who will pay much, much bigger prices for them in the future. It’s the story of El Sombra, and it’s only just begun:

It was too bad about Djego. El Sombra regretted little, but he regretted denying Djego that one small chance at happiness. But it couldn't be helped.

Until Adolf Hitler was dead, El Sombra could never rest

The man walked west, towards the sinking sun.

#replies tag #pulp heroes #al ewing #el sombra #the shadow

[divinedecay]

What Could Have, Should Have, Been

Prompt: exile by Taylor Swift + relationship angst Pairing: Rohan Kishibe x GN!Reader Word Count: 1,633 Warnings: Slight mentions of blood, angst, Rohan being sad A/N: This is purely self indulgent, please don’t come at me for anything that’s ooc. Also I recommend listening to exile by Taylor Swift while you read

Rohan saw everything coming.

    With Heaven’s Door, he could read people, predict actions. He was confident in his abilities, in his relationship, in general. Especially in his relationship, in you. He’d never met someone quite like you, someone able to match him blow for blow. You were gorgeous, inside and out, and everyone loved you. You even ignored his jabs, something Josuke was amazed over. For every stupid little “you think I, Rohan Kishibe, care about something so trivial?” when you were upset, there was always an “I know you do.” Frankly, it kind of scared him. Just a little. And a little voice in the back of his head kept saying he didn’t deserve you.

Sometimes, he was inclined to believe it.

    But he never gave that voice the satisfaction, never voiced the doubt. After all, who wouldn’t want to be with him? People would line up outside his door just for the chance. Besides, when he met you, he read all about you. There was nothing he couldn’t predict about you. At least, he thought so. But, when the two of you became a couple, you put forth a condition.

He wasn’t allowed to use Heaven’s Door on you, for the duration of your relationship.

That one was new, but he swore he wouldn’t. And he was a man of his word.

    To his pleasure, everything went well. The two of you dated for a while, and, after around a year, you moved in with him. More important than that, he loved you. It was obvious to anyone who looked at him looking at you that he loved you, not that he would ever admit it. Love scared him, the whole of the emotion, the massive feeling, it terrified him. It was something he couldn’t predict. He might have been a little in love with you before the two of you even began dating. Not that he admitted it to himself.

    You surprised him at every turn. He had, once, read everything about you with Heaven’s Door, but sometimes it felt as if he didn’t know you at all. You would surprise him with breakfast in bed, or with a date night, or something else suitable romantic. And you were patient. So blessedly patient with him. You took everything in stride, matched him blow for blow, and even somehow managed to get him to stop overworking himself (as much).

One day, Rohan woke up and realized you were his home.

That was why what came next hurt so much.

The two of you had been dating for one year, eight months, and twenty-three days - not that he was keeping track or anything - when it happened. When he woke up alone.

    It wasn’t all that unusual. It was a weekend, and sometimes he slept in. He figured you were just in the kitchen, or the sitting room, or out doing something. Then he noticed it. The lack of things. Your stuff was nowhere to be found. Sometime during the night, you’d managed to move all of your things out. And you were gone.

You were gone.

    He searched the whole house, just in case. Maybe he was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. Or this was a joke. A cruel joke. That had to be it. He was hoping, praying, for this all to be a dream. Then he made it to the kitchen. There, on the table, was a folded piece of paper. Written on it was just his name, in your lovely handwriting.

Rohan.

    He shakily picked it up, almost afraid to read its contents. But he had to. He had to know. He swallowed, rolled his shoulders. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

    He slowly opened the letter, and an earring fell out. One of his pen earrings. The one he’d given you, so that the two of you could both have one. As a promise. Something in him cracked, then, but he took a breath and began to read, taking note of the tear-stains on the paper.

Rohan,

    I can’t tell you how many times I’ve restarted this letter. I never seem to be able to get the words right. Hopefully this will be the one that does it right.

    I want to start by saying that I love you, Rohan. I have from the beginning. I might always love you. That’s what makes this so hard.

    I think you love me, Rohan. I really think that. But I think love scares you, and the more it scares you, the more you distance yourself. Which leads me to now, I guess. I’m sitting in your kitchen, crying, writing this letter. But I can’t look back now.

    I have to leave you, Rohan. And, don’t worry, I’m going to tell you exactly why.

    I feel like we’re a car crash; everything is going downhill fast but you can’t help but watch the disaster. I’ve tried - God knows I’ve tried - to put in the effort to get close to you. And you know what you do? Nothing. You don’t try and take me on dates, you don’t thank me, you don’t open up to me. This thing between us? It’s so one sided. And I can’t take it anymore. I’m tired, Rohan. I’m tired of putting everything into this and getting nothing back. 

    Koichi and Josuke say that’s just how you are - selfish. But I don’t think that’s it. Not exactly. You are selfish. But underneath that, you’re scared.

    I’ve seen this film before, Rohan, I know how this ends. So I’m ending it before it can get that far. I can’t stay in a relationship with someone who won’t put in the effort. I refuse.

    Maybe, one day, it can be different. Maybe you’ll realize what it is that scares you, and face it. Maybe then we can try again.

But, until then…

Goodbye, Rohan.

He drops the letter back onto the table with a dismissive wave.

“Y/N’s loss.”

    Somehow, he manages to move. He goes through the motions, for a while, but never leaves his house. Never answers the phone. Or the door. Barely eats. Barely sleeps. His manga goes on hiatus. He can’t bring himself to care. Then, three days later, he sees the earring on the floor, where he left it. His thoughts drift to you and everything comes crashing into him at once. The pain, the heartache. For three days he’d managed to numb it, but one reminder of you and it was all over.

The next thing he knew, he was on the floor.

    He wasn’t sure how he got there, but once he was there time seemed to slow down. He hugged his knees, resting his chin on them and ignoring the fact that he was actually crying. He reached beside him and grabbed the earring that had fallen from the note and bounced onto the floor. He wrapped his hand around it, feeling the sharp edges dig into his palm and not giving a damn. He would never wear it again. If it wasn’t you wearing it, he never wanted to see it again.

    He didn’t know how long he was on the floor, ignoring everything. At some point, he registered a knock on his door, but didn’t think anything of it. At least, until he vaguely registered a crash that sounded suspiciously like his front door being kicked down. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

    That was what had gotten him into this mess, wasn’t it? He hadn’t cared enough, hadn’t shown it. What was it you had said? He was afraid. Rohan Kishibe, afraid. Impossible.

Koichi’s face appeared in front of him.

“Rohan-sensei? Y/N told us-” At the mention of your name, he tightens his grip on the earring, but doesn’t speak.

“There’s blood dripping from his hand!” Josuke. Of course that brat would be here too.

“Huh?!” Okuyasu. Why was everyone here to witness his shame? Could they not just leave him alone?

“I’ll fix it,” he hears Josuke say, and jerks his hand away.

“No.” It’s the only word he’s spoken in who knows how long.

“Open your hand, dumbass.”

“No.” He feels like a broken record, but it’s the only thing he can manage, he thinks. Is he still crying? He hopes he’s not still crying.

“Rohan-sensei, let him help you.” Koichi’s voice is soft, gentle. Patient. Hesitant.

“I’m fine.”

I’m fine, he tells himself, this is nothing. He pushes himself off the ground. “I’m fine. Get out.”

“But-”

“This is just good manga research material. Get out.” The lies are easy, spilling out from him. In truth, he’s not sure he wants them to leave. But, like so many other things, he’d never admit it. He wipes his eyes, pushes past them. How had he missed all the signs? How had he missed your discontent?

Selfish, a voice in him cries, you’re a selfish bastard. Of course you wouldn’t see the signs, all you care about is yourself.

He was a fool.

    There was so much that could have, should have, been. And he’d ruined it. He’d ruined it all. He looked down at his hand, slowly opening it to reveal the earring. It had dug into his palm and broken skin. He felt like he deserved the pain.

“Rohan-sensei?”

They were still here?

He turned to look at them, not truly seeing them. His mind was elsewhere, on you. Was there even a way to fix this?

“Koichi-kun,” he says, his voice quiet, “I was a fool.”

What could have, should have, been, he would find a way to make it reality.

He would change. He would put in the effort. He would win you back.

Or his name isn’t Rohan Kishibe.

#Rohan Kishibe #jjba rohan #rohan kishibe x reader #gn!reader #rohan kishibe x gn!reader #angst babyyyyyy #what could have should have been #self indulgent bullshit

[fydream]

Almost an entire week of school goes by without any form of communication Hyuck. You didn't really expect to see him in the morning before school started so you planned on talking to him during lunch, the day after Chenle texted you. But when you saw Chenle and Renjun sitting together, without the missing boy you knew something was up.

The start of your day was a little awkward. You expected Jeno to actually have a conversation with you during history but he was too caught up doing god knows what on his phone to even realize you were trying to talk to him. "So the boy does have his priorities then.." You thought to yourself. "I wonder if he knows anything I should know."

At the end of the class you decided against asking Jeno, because maybe, just maybe it was a little too early to be asking such questions that would possibly just make things worser than they needed to be. Instead you decided to go on your day in hopes that Donghyuck would contact you in any form.

It was only until your last class of the day when you finally got something. An email, from no one but Lee Donghyuck himself. Confused, on why he would send you something so late in the day you decide to open it. Upon opening the email you read:

Welcome!

Club representative Lee Donghyuck here!

Are you tired of the heartbreak, lies, and untrustworthy relationships in your life? Have you been cheated on one too many times? Then this is the place for you! Welcome to the DNYL Club here at NCT High! Where the heartbreakers become the heartbreakees!

Interested in joining us? Great! You’ll just have to follow a few rules.

rule #1: you’ve got to have fun.

rule #2: always look your best, we don’t want anyone to catch you slipping now, do we?

and lastly, rule #3: don’t wear your heart on your sleeve, unless you want to end up like one of them.

so, will you join us?

Rereading the email over you notice the same four letters on your notebook being mentioned once again, even more confused you check to see who it was sent to, turns out it was sent to just you.

"What the fuck?" You thought to yourself. "All of a sudden Chenle tells me things are going on and Hyuck thinks that instead of explaining things he should send a cryptic email instead.."

The bell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts. You blink twice before looking back at the email that you had opened on on your phone, then back up at your classroom where your classmate seemed to be leaving.

"What the fuck happened?"

Walking out of the now empty classroom to the student parking lot you find yourself in the backseat of Renjun's car. You asked him for a ride to Hyuck's house because you didn't feel like walking all the way over there, plus you decided that the company would be nice. He accepted your request as you told him you were going to check up on Donghyuck and that he and Chenle should come as well

The car ride from school to the Donghyuck's place is mostly quiet with the background noise of the car’s fan and Chenle’s giggles due to him watching some sort of video on his phone. It stays like this for a few minutes before you decide to break it.

"Renjun?" You ask, looking at him through his rear view mirror.

"Yeah?"

"Uh- Hyuck um, sent me this email last period.." You start, and Rejun suddenly hits the breaks in his car, giving both you and Chenle a scare. "I- Sorry." He apologizes. "You can conintinue."

"Um.. Okay.. Well it was about how DNYL was a club at our school?? I recognized the letters from the journal you guys gave me, oh and um- why is it about heartbreakers?? Is this something related to Jeno?" You ask quickly, now getting Chenle's attention as well.

"You'll find out soon enough, y/n." Renjun sighs, parking his car along the sidewalk. "We're here anyways, Hyuck might as well do the explaining himself." He mumbles.

With the three of you exiting Renjun's car, Chenle runs up to the front door to ring the doorbell. Upon ringing the doorbell, no one but Donghyuck himself opens the door, clearly surprised to see the three of you here. "What are you doing here?" He asks as if he were confused on what he did to get all of you to show up at his house.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do." You say pushing past the two boys once you see the door open to reveal your best friend. "What the fuck was that email about? Also who the fuck still emails people?"

"What email?" Donghyuck asks, taken back at the sudden aggressiveness.

"This one?" You say, shoving your phone towards him.

"Oh.. That one." He sighs. "I didn't expect you to ask so soon."

“Why?”

“I thought you might wanted to think about it before asking.”

“Well, clearly I’m here now. Along with your other two friends, and I suggest you tell me if you’re going to explain anything or not so I can leave if you aren’t.” You scoff harshly, getting ready to leave if he did happen to say no.

Donghyuck sighs.

"Come in then, all of you."

"I guess I should just start from the top then, huh?" Donghyuck starts, laughing nervously, earning a glare from you. "So, if you didn't already know.. Lee Jeno, the boy in your history class? Well, He and I dated, for a while in fact.. and well.. it didn't end well." He pauses for a second, and before he can speak again you cut him off.

"Is that it?" You ask a little too harshly, "You see me and your ex, who I didn't even know you dated hang out, and then all of a sudden you don't show up to school, ignore my texts, and just send me a cryptic email? Really?"

"No.. That's not all."

"The reason why we broke up was because I found out one of his friends, who I'm assuming you already met, Park Jisung, dared him to ask me out." He says quietly. "And I guess they found me acting like a fool in love was entertaining.." "Oh." You whisper, feeling guilty that you just snapped at him. "I'm sorry... I didn't know and I shouldn't have assumed.."

"No it's fine. We broke up last June after school ended, so, almost three months ago." He sighs. "I should've known too.. I was warned. One of my upperclassman friends, Mark Lee, warned me about them and I still went on and dated Jeno.. I guess love really is blind then, huh?" He jokes.

"Well.. anyways, Mark was part of the DNYL club also known as the 'Don't Need Your Love' club and when he graduated he made me president. He told me the same stories that his older friends experienced and he saw the difference between the two groups grow. They would continue breaking hearts, and we'd continue trying to get back at them.. but as the years went on we started losing more people."

"So many people quit after all the upperclassmen graduated.. I still don't understand why.." Renjun explained. "The whole concept of the club was just to get back at those who hurt us, in a way that they would understand."

"People have said it's just because the three of them would make you feel so special, when in reality you were just a pawn in their games." Chenle added. "And I guess Hyuck getting his heart broken by Jeno was enough for everyone to quit."

"So.. Who's in the club now?" You ask, trying to keep up with all the information being given to you. Honestly, you didn't expect to learn everything all at once, all you wanted to know was what that email was about, you never expected it to be because of your new so called "friends."

"You're looking at them." Chenle jokes.

"You're fucking kidding."

"There's nothing to kid about y/n."

"Why'd they quit?" You ask.

"Like I said. I guess Hyuck's downfall was just too much." Chenle shrugs. "To be fair, we haven't done anything either. The most we've done so far is cut off ties with Jeno, Jisung, and their friend Jaemin. We're not taking any chances."

"I see.." You sigh. "Okay but what does any of this have to do with me?" You ask.

"Well.. You see.." Donghyuck starts. "We were wondering if you would like to help us out." He says an innocent smile suddenly appearing.

"What?!" You exclaim. "You want me to do what now?!"

"Help us out." Renjun adds with a nod. "You don't have to do anything extreme, we just want them to go through the same pain we did." "Isn't that um.. morally wrong?"

"What? Leading them on just to crush their hearts afterwards?" Donghyuck asks in that playful voice he always uses.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Only if you're looking at it that way." He says smiling. "We're just teaching them a lesson."

"So are you in?" Renjun asks.

Trying to process all the information that had just been given to you, you decide to think about what to do. "So basically. You want me to help you get back at your ex and his friends because they're assholes to not only you, but other people as well. And you think the most sane way to do that is to do the same thing they did to you, to them."

"Yeah pretty much."

"No!"

"C'monn!!!" Chenle whines. "It'll be fun!!"

"Yeah for you! Not me!" You exclaim. "What happens if I end up getting played then, hm?"

"You won't." Renjun defends. "We'll be here for you, plus, considering all that time Hyuck and Jeno spent together we could probably tell you what to do."

"That still doesn't make up for the fact that you're doing the same thing they did." You argue back.

"Well what I've learned is, is that they won't stop until one of them experiences it." Donghyuck retorts. "I know I haven't told you everything but you just need to trust me on this one. They don't care about anyone but themselves." Donghyuck says sincerely, thinking about what Jeno had told him the other night. "Please."

This is the most vulnerable you've seen Donghyuck in a while, and part of you can't tell if this is genuine or if this is just a way for him to get what he wants.

"Okay." You sigh, while the three boys cheer. "But on one condition."

"Of course there's a catch." Donghyuck jokes, rolling his eyes.

"You have to at least talk to Jeno again." "Are you fucking insane?!" Donghyuck asks. "There's no way in hell I'm talking to that bastard, you do not know the hell he put me through."

"And he doesn't know the hell you're about to put him through." You defend. "I never said you had to like him, I just said you have to talk."

"So do we have a deal?"

He sighs.

"We have a deal."

A few days later you were meeting up with Donghyuck at his house where he would be telling you what to do. Currently you were laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling in Donghyuck's bedroom.

"Am I really going to do this?" You think to yourself.

"This is your target." Donghyuck says, handing you his phone with a certain someone's instagram pulled up.

"Target?"

"That's just what we would call them." Donghyuck shrugs. "This is Park Jisung. I'm sure you've already met him."

"I thought you were mad at Jeno." You say scrolling through the boy's feed. "Why am I going after Jisung?"

"He's the one who asked the dare."

"And I guess I was thinking about what you said. As much as I hate Jeno, I don't think I could do that to him.." He adds quietly.

To his luck, you weren't listening. You were too caught up in stalking Jisung's instagram to even notice that Hyuck was still talking to you. "Sorry, what? Did you say something?" You ask, handing his phone back to him.

"Hmm? Oh, it was nothing."

"So why Jisung?" You ask again.

"You're perfect for him." Donghyuck bluntly states. "The new girl who just moved to town, who also happens to be a sweetheart and a smartass? I don't know about you, but if I were in his position I'd definitely try to shoot my shot, especially if no one knew anything about me." He shrugs.

"He's always goes for the 'soft-innocent' types. The ones that would pretty much never expect it." He adds. "Like I said, he's an asshole."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I dunno. Break his heart? Crush his hopes and dreams?"

"Donghyuck, seriously." You scold.

"You're no fun." He pouts. "All you have to do is get the boy to fall for you, then break his heart before he can break yours."

"Y'know that sounds a lot easier said than done.." You mumble. "How do you even know that I'll be able to do it?"

"You're the new girl, right? He barely knows anything about you, he can only assume based off of your social media and how you act in class."

"Okay and? What is that supposed to mean?" "It means he wouldn't know if you were putting up an act or not. You'll be fine, you just need to watch out for yourself."

"Okay now what is that supposed to mean?" You ask, wondering if it's too late to back out now.

"Don't catch feelings." He shrugs. "If you find yourself catching feelings for Park Jisung then you need to tell one of us right away. I'm sorry y/n, but as much as I love you I can't put you through that hell."

"So are you up for the challenge?" He asks.

You sigh before sitting up to look at him. "Let's do it."

19 | previous | next | m.list | main m.list | 

✰ how to be a heartbreaker

↳ so what happens when park jisung, the school’s infamous fuckboy runs into the new girl at school? out of boredom he decides it’ll be fun to have someone new to play with, but little does he know, she’s learning how to be a heartbreaker. 

#fuckboy!jisung #fydream #jisung smau #jisung social media au #jisung sns au #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream x reader #nct dream fanfic #nct dream soft hours #nct dream timestamps #nct dream scenarios #nct dream blurbs #jisung imagines #jisung fluff #jisung x reader #jisung fanfic #jisung soft hours #jisung timestamps #jisung scenarios #jisung blurbs

[cockasinthebird]

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee the more I have, for both are infinite.” -William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act 2 Scene 2

He had brought Laurie, Amy, Becky here. Never Nancy. Robin several times, at first with certain intentions, but it quickly became their place to watch the sweaty, athletic bodies of cheerleaders and football players, all the while sharing what shitty weed they could come across in such a puny town.

“Man, you can really see everything from here, huh?”

And now he has brought Billy here. It's only been three days since he caught him red-handed, slipping a loving note into his locker.

-

“I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.”

Billy had stood frozen in place, utterly paralyzed by the perfected fear of facing something you had not prepared for. Never intended to prepare for, as he explained to Steve that he was content with just wishing from afar, green with envy and yellow with melancholy.

But Steve had refused him that, to let this die before it has even had a chance to bloom under the sun or moon, as he just wants to feel the truth behind the letters, and encouraged him to continue.

-

Although restless through the night till Friday, he felt relief most unimaginable, as he opened his locker and found more of the same handwriting.

“For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation.”

And Robin had explained, “It simply means that life only exists around you. That with love everything is beautiful, and without it everything is dead.” She then looked to Steve with an inquisitive gaze. “Do you know who it is?”

He didn't speak, but nodded still.

-

In a few short hours, the sun will set to color the sky in beautiful hues of red, and Steve is happy, but sickeningly nervous.

On Friday before Billy got to drive home, Steve had found him and asked to meet under the bleachers on Saturday- today.

“Yeah,” he finally says and scratches the hairs on the back of his head, but carefully so as to not disturb the well kempt style. “I come here with... a friend, to smoke and watch the football team practice.”

Billy turns to look at him and grins, knowingly yet with reservation. “Oh? You wanna join the football team?” His gaze travels up and down with a teasing glint in his perfect blues. “I don't think you have the physique for it.”

And Steve laughs at that, arms crossed high up his chest in a hesitant stance. “No, I...” he braces himself before attempting to be bold, “I'm just enjoying the view.”

Yet Billy proves bolder, his grin twisting into something more suggestive, and takes a few all too confident steps closer. “See anything you like, then?”

Bright pink paints across Steve's pale skin, and his lips twitch as he parts them to whisper, faintly, “Yes.”

Gently so, Billy reaches out to touch Steve's arms and pulls them apart, to tangle their fingers together in a frighteningly perfect fit, calloused on soft. A first touch of skin that is not mean or cruel. And hopefully not the last.

Both in agreeance of such dear notions, they move closer till the toes of their shoes meet, a foot or so apart, never having been this close without bloody intentions. It is a bewildering thrill, that forces both hearts to beat with reverence.

Steve watches lips closely, as Billy speaks with a lull, “Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their books, but love from love, toward school with heavy looks.”

And they both laugh at the comparison that seems all too apt. For once a quote that even Steve, a fool, can understand without Robin to act as his royal translator.

“But how do you know it's love?” Steve then asks and he meets heaven in Billy's eyes.

“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?” his voice that of an angel, at home behind those well-cushioned lips and beneath that canopy of a mustache.

“In English?” Steve chuckles out with the warmth of his aching heart, and squeezes Billy's hands tighter in a frail attempt to show his appreciation for such fanciful words.

“It means that love at first sight is true, that from the moment our eyes met, my heart was yours.”

Words that brings forth something so deep in Steve, a feeling that has suffered the painful silence of lying dormant, that now upon awakening, he cannot resist its vivid urging for him to lean in through the air heavy with emotion between them, lips parted.

But even then, with all too daring a gesture from the brunette, Billy doesn't do his part justice, till he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

And Steve's mouth spreads soft like butter on warm bread, as he gives a light and affable laugh, “God yes.”

The joyous sounds they both harmonize in becomes muffled when they embrace one another so fondly, that all the agony and misfortune they've caused each other in the past simply melts away by the heat of their yearning.

Billy raises up his hand to gingerly hold Steve's chin between his fingers, to keep him still so that Billy alone can angle his head to the side and find himself an explorer on Steve's skin, along the shoreline that is his jaw, across the moles on his skin like precious landmarks, to fall along the slope of his exposed neck from wherein hums echo, till his journey is obstructed by the border of his brightly colored tee.

“How do you know Shakespeare?” Steve asks, and pleads with loving hands for the return of those clear eyes.

The amiable smile that Billy carries so well goes crooked, and Steve is quick to dread the witty response that comes out as, “By reading.”

“Intelligent, handsome, and funny,” Steve laughs near mockingly, but with only playful intentions that becomes clear once his expression grows fond once more. And by the peeking of Billy's tongue, he understands that the tone of it all was apparent. “I mean why do you know so much Shakespeare?”

Billy lets out a complacent sigh, brushes Steve's hair behind his ears, as he thinks of a proper way to convey his internal monologue, ever the lustrous garden that it is. At the very least he can start with the undeniable truth,

“My mom was into plays, as in a lot. She often talked about going on Broadway some day.” His gaze travels aside to somewhere farther off than possible, as if in a dreaming state to lovingly relive the memory of her. “She would read me his stories and sonnets, and when she...” Then blue eyes falls to the green beneath, a shade darker with a dreary shadow over his mind. “When she left us, my dad and me, all I had of hers is this necklace and a dear love for Shakespeare.”

Steve's fingers a feather across the golden pendant nestled between clean pecs, the dolefulness palpable in his faint expression. When warm fingers wraps around his own, just to then be lifted up to meet Billy's lips, plush against each digit.

“I've been... very angry for a very long time, Steve,” the honesty to his tone jarring.

And Steve's name sounds more precious than buried gold when carried along by that dulcet voice. His heart throbs at it, ready and willing to stop dancing forever, if that would mean this to be his last memory of too short a life.

“I've been a real shithead to you.”

A confession that makes Steve burst out with unexpected laughter. “Oh have you now? Even with both of my hands and yours I can't count all the times you've hit me in the last year or so.”

“I know!” Billy doesn't mean to smile the way he does, but Steve's own stretch of perfect lips infects him. “But I hope you can forgive me for it, although I don't deserve it. I just want you to know how sorry I am that I took out all of my frustrations on you. It has taken me all my life to find out what's wrong with me, and then found that it comes down to two things only. My fucked up dad, and...”

He hesitates now more than ever, does not meet the eyes of kindness that bestows their grace upon him, and instead he plays around with Steve's fingers between his, watching as winter skin meets sun-kissed.

Steve remains a quiet statue of patience, knows exactly what endeavor Billy is about to step through. One that he has not been brave enough to face himself, but understands all too well the danger of it, viewed from a window of presumed privilege till he only short ago discovered a crack in the glass.

But perchance the road wont be as treacherous with another near his.

Silence drags on, however, and Steve observes how the bravery of spilling guts in such candor falls sourly into the pits of despair, and in a show of solace for such pain, Steve is now the one to bring their hands up to kiss them with such tenderness that would make anyone believe love to be the truest of human emotion.

“You don't have to finish that sentence,” Steve whispers benevolently, then guides warm palms to cup his grateful expression, hoping that this gesture will prove to Billy everything he knows.

“Yeah?” he requests for reassurance never the less, but who among any one person can resist such clear form of validation and not to be tempted by the belief of such words to be lies.

“Yeah,” Steve coos out and leans into that touch as was it the one of a lover's already.

And this time Billy does not find cause to ask for acquiescence, as he too leans towards the touch of infatuation, to taste the mirth of youthfulness on Steve's soft existence.

#My Writing #Harringrove #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #Poet Billy? Poet Billy. #Shakespeare #fluffy fluff fluff #People seemingly wanted more so here #this is too much fun #to just throw out flowery words

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write 2021 prompt #21: Feckless

Feckless – lacking initiative or strength of character; irresponsible.

Since confessing to her how she had felt about her daughter all those years, ago, F’lhaminn had insisted that Fearless have a meal with her at least one time a week, unless she had world-saving that she couldn’t get away from. Aside from their exile to Ishgard, where F’lhaminn herself had to flee to Radz-at-Han, the pair hadn’t missed one yet.

F’lhaminn often told stories of Minfilia growing up or of her own exploits as a younger woman. Fearless passed on stories of the sights she saw in the far east or crazy tales of living with two girlfriends. F’lhaminn loved those, happy to laugh at the trio’s exploits or give advice when they encountered problems.

Today the pair were sharing a meal over the cafe’s Doman specialities. Fearless had been curious to see just how good Raulf had gotten with his wife’s traditional dishes, mostly to see how well Makoto would enjoy herself if Fearless would ever be able to bring her here.

Her first taste of the ramen had convinced her that he had gotten really good.

She was just about the comment on it to F’lhaminn when a Lalafell approached their table. “Feckless Willow?”

The two women shared a look, then Fearless turned to angrily address him. “It’s Fearless. Now what do you want?”

“Oh, Twelve, I’m so sorry! The writing on this envelope is atrocious, I honestly could not tell what the name said! I meant no offense, I swear!”

Fearless sighed. “It’s fine. You have something for me?”

“Yes, ma’am. Please sign here.” He handed her a clipboard. Fearless looked it over, but she only grasped a few phrases such as “signee agrees that parcel was delivered intact” and the like before she wrote her name on the line indicated.

She handed it back to him. “Excellent, ma’am, thank you very much. And here you are!”

He passed a thick envelope to her. She frowned. “Why have someone deliver this to me? Don’t most people rely on the Moogle Post?”

The Lalafell smiled proudly. “Afraid the Moogle Post hasn’t quite caught on in Aerslant, ma’am. People over there still trust Mariner Couriers to handle their mail and deliveries! After all, moogles are known to get distracted occasionally, not to mention become prey for any number of vicious predators! Wouldn’t you rather trust a professional?”

His beaming expression was met with expressions of distaste from the two women, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he spun smartly on his heels and walked off.

Fearless turned to look at the envelope, inwardly sighing. Aerslant doubtless meant her parents. She’d thought that chapter of her life was over when Rheika had stopped their final attempt to bring her home against her will. What the hells did they want now?

“Are you going to see what it is?: F’lhaminn asked.

“I don’t know if I really want to. It’s probably from my parents” Fearless replied.

F’lhaminn looked at her with a mixture of concern and curiosity. “You…haven’t spoken of them. Not with me, at least. Unless I’m not recalling it?”

Fearless shook her head. “No, I prefer talking about good things with you. They…are very much not.” She tore open the envelope. Inside was a literal ream of parchment, all bearing very official looking printing, except the top sheet, which was handwritten in her father’s very blocky, no nonsense writing style.

To: Ms. Syhrwyda Ahldblaetwyn aka ‘Fearless Willow’ Re: Rights of Inheritance and Succession

This letter is to inform you that, per your wishes, as expressed via one Rheika Aliapoh, your status as legal inheritor of the Lost Mountain Shipping Company and of the personal fortunes of its owners, Master Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn and Lady Usynwyda Holaszirnwyn has been rescinded.

Attached is a copy of the paperwork that has been filed with all relevant government bodies.

Signed, Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn

Fearless reads it then wordlessly hands it off to F’lhaminn. She reads through it, then looks up to Fearless in horror. “What…what happened, Fearless?”

Fearless tells her the full story. How her parents showed her nothing in the way of love, unless she met their exacting, strict standards. How they’d removed her from school far too early and into an apprenticeship with her father. How when she’d failed to meet his even more exacting standards over his business within mere weeks of the new arrangement, he’d declared her useless. How her mother had forced her in etiquette c lasses following that debacle, intending only to marry her off so that the company could pass to a son they would trust to lead the company when they could no longer do so.

She’d kept her head down for most of it. When she finally was able to look up, she saw something she’d never witnessed before.

F’lhaminn was furious.

“That is….I just….Oh, my GODS what a horrible pair of fools! How…how does someone value a living person they created so little as to not care about them beyond what they can do for you? Useless? USELESS? Literally, look at what you have accomplished with the love and support of your friends! And….and they not only can’t be bothered to be proud of you, they don’t even believe it? I…I’m sorry, Fearless, but your parents are absolutely the worst. You don’t deserve what they’ve done to you, and they don’t deserve the brilliant, compassionate, and stalwart daughter they were given.”

Fearless smiles, eyes watered. “T-thank you, Lhaminn. That means a great deal, coming from you.”

The pair hugged. When Fearless did finally let go, she wiped a tear from her eye that had managed to escape. “You know, it’s rather funny, but my mom was quite the admirer of yours. You were popular even that far from Ul’dah, and her friends were all devotees of your songs, so of course she had to be. My father considered your music…frivolous, I think he said, but he couldn’t ever deny mother anything, so all of your orchestrion rolls eventually made their way into our home.”

*”Is that so?” Lhaminn’s face smiled into an evil grin

“And you’re certain of the identity of the sender, creature?”

“Absolutely, kupo! Any moogle worth his pom that’s worked in and around Ul’dah would know the Songstress by sight, and I have for a good number of years! It was definitely her that gave me this letter and bade me make the journey to you, kupo.”

Ahldblaet looked at the letter. A missive from this Songstress of Ul’dah his wife was always raving about. Well, used to, he supposed. She’d retired some time ago, and while she was still somewhat popular, other, newer performers had come to occupy most of the conversations of the social elite. Still, this should make her happy. “Thank you, moogle. Now begone before you shed on my floor or something.”

“How rude! Very well, a good day to you!” With a huff, the moogle activated a teleportation spell and then winked out of sight.

“Wife! We’ve a letter!” he called

His wife, Usynwyda, soon joined him in his office. “Who is it from?”

He simply handed her the sealed envelope. She gasped “The Songstress herself?? What….whatever could this be? Oh, perhaps she is touring again and has given us a personal invitation? Or maybe we are to be her guests at a formal dinner?”

He nodded. Certainly it would be something of that nature, they were quite important people after all. “Well, go on then. Open it and let us find out!”

She opened the envelope and began reading. Her gleeful expression soon turned to shock, then slid into horror as she made her way through the letter’s contents. She dropped the letter and fled the room, screeching in abject horror.

Perplexed, Ahldblaet picked up the letter and began reading.

To Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn and Usynwyda Holaszirnwyn,

It has come to my attention that the pair of you are great admirers of my performances. I was thus inspired to pen you this missive to express my feelings on your contributions to the world.

Unfortunately, I am but a well trained vocalist, and have little knowledge on the worlds of business or cargo shipping, so I feel I am unqualified to speak on your successes there. However, there is a challenge that all of us have undertaken that I can speak on, that of parenthood. While I have given birth to no children of my own, I did adopt and raise an orphaned young woman to adulthood to become a brilliant woman determined to see the threats to our star defeated and it’s people saved.

You, on the other hand, have a daughter who has become equally brilliant and determined in spite of your parental failures.

I cannot even begin to comprehend how someone can look at a child that they created and brought into this world and see her as you have seen yours. I have heard the tales of your lack of warmth, of caring for this girl. How you derided her as worthless, useless, in the face of a single failure, regardless of its nature. How you wielded her like she was mere property for any chance it would increase your own profits.

Is it any wonder, then, that the moment she fled your presence, she blossomed? That she has become a hero to people not only across Eorzea, but the far eastern lands of Othard and Hingashi as well? I have heard, however, that you do not believe these claims. That she is a Warrior of Light, chosen by the Mothercrystal herself as a champion. That she has risen to this lofty title multiple times over, slaying summoned gods that would drain this star’s very life, driven Garlean forces out of Ala Mhigo and Doma and other former Imperial provinces, ended a thousand-year war between Ishgard and Dravania, and far more.

I do not comprehend how you can so utterly fail to see the truth of your daughter, but the fact is that I, and many others, are quite capable of doing so. You see, our daughters were became close before mine unfortunately passed, and during our shared grieving, I have come to regard her as my own as well. If you are so willing to discard the absolutely beautiful treasure that is Fearless Willow, then I shall be happy to care for her as best I can. Any mother worth the name would be proud of her for what she has become.

Retired though I am, I still have a number of friends in the publishing business, and I still talk with them often. During these conversations, I will more than likely end up speaking of Fearless. You know how mothers get, we can’t help but gush about our children’s successes and the hardships they’ve overcome. The Warriors of Light are always a newsworthy topic, and I imagine more than a few of them will run stories on her. Of course, they’ll all do their due diligence and dig up as much as they can in the name of getting all of the details right. They’re very thorough that way. Why, I’d expect articles about her in any number of periodicals soon.

Ones that I know for a fact have circulation on your own shores.

I’m curious how your social peers and business partners will react when they doubtless see your names in the story. Aren’t you?

I’d wish you the best of luck, but I would be lying.

Sincerely, F’lhaminn Qesh

PS. I wouldn’t bother saving this missive. I had an alchemist prepare the ink. Within a few minutes of it being opened, it will dissolve entirely. Don’t be holding it when that happens.

Even as he read the postscript, Ahldblaet saw the paper begin crumbling as the alchemical concoction did its work. He threw it to the stone floor, and within seconds, it had vanished as though it had never existed.

He hmphed. They could get in front of this. Who would believe the word of some woman from a far-off land over important people such as they? Perhaps his wife’s social standing might suffer, but eventually those parasites would come crawling back. Their trading partners were intelligent, savvy folk that were well trained in spotting truth from fiction, they’d see through such a ridiculous hatchet job. Honestly, he’d be surprised if anyone would believe this fiction about their runaway feckless former daughter.

Time to go reassure his wife.

#Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge #Fearless Willow #F'lhaminn Qesh #I know I said I was probably done writing about these awful people #But a friend gave me the idea of someone calling her Feckless Willow by mistake and this came out #Plus it was a good excuse to show her relationship with Flhaminn #Do not mess with her daughters #ninja edit sorry for the lack of read more link!

[sierraraeck]

Xena (Pt.2)

Aundreya Chambers

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Her attempt to fix things leads Aundreya directly to one of her greatest enemies, and to some of her greatest friends. Story nineteen.

Category: Angst, but it’s basically just like Aundreya working a “case.”

Warnings: Cussing. There is a knife fight and someone gets stabbed.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: I know this one is a little Aundreya-centric, but we will get back to the whole squad in a moment. Also, if this means something to you, I want you to think Dauntless from Divergent as far as building and overall vibe.

Everyone was in position.

Niko and one of the next in line, JT, were already inside as my back up. Deen had been giving us updates through ear pieces, and Roman, along with a team of trackers, was waiting outside of FBI headquarters for the jet to land. I was hopeful that we’d be done before they got back. Mateo was waiting outside of the building, watching the entrances. I didn’t want him inside, for fear he’d be too impulsive, plus he’d do a good job up against DeLeon if he happened to show up. I was waiting with him, both of us leaning up against the brick behind us waiting to get the call that Xena had shown up and it was time for me to go in.

“Would you come back?”

It was out of the blue, and I wasn’t sure what he was referencing. “What?”

“Would you come back?” he repeated. “After this is all over. Xena and DeLeon taken care of, the FBI safe, you and me and the rest of the team safe. Would you come back to us?”

I knew the other question hanging in the balance so I didn’t want to answer. Would you come back to me?

“I don’t know,” I replied, “I haven’t gotten that far.”

“Yes you have,” he said, finally glancing over at me, “You plan way too far ahead to not have an answer to that. Don’t lie to me.”

“Mateo, I-”

“Sounds like a no, then,” he bitterly threw at me, turning away.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. What do you expect us to do without you?”

“I didn’t say I was leaving,” I tried to circle back.

“Is there someone else?” he asked. The question shocked me. He wasn’t usually like this, but I guess a lot had changed since the last time I saw him.

“Uh, I mean, no.”

“Convincing,” he pressed his lips together.

Very nice, Aundreya. Just keep wrecking your relationships. It’s working really well for you.

I sighed, then stepped in front of him, making him look up at me. “There is no one else.”

It was barely a whisper when he asked, “An agent? Really?”

“Exactly,” I pointed out. “That’s why it doesn’t matter. It’s never going to work, so no. No one else.”

“Of course it matters, Alionth.” And he was right. It did matter, I just wanted it not to.

“No, it doesn’t,” I pleaded. “I haven’t seen you in three years, and yes, I made connections or whatever while I was away, but that’s all they were. Connections to get to the end goal, like I told you before I left. I was in a dark space for a while and one of them helped me out and that was it. End of connection. Plus, they’ve got someone, so like I told you earlier, it doesn’t matter. Mateo, I still lo-”

He cut me off, smashing his lips into mine. He pulled me closer and I kissed him harder, hands moving to his hair.

“She’s here,” Niko’s voice whispered in both our ears. He pulled away, drawing another small sigh from my lips as I looked into his eyes. It was almost like they represented the two different sides of him. Maybe the two different sides of me.

Mateo brushed his thumb over my jaw and softly said, “Don’t say that until you mean it.”

All I could do was nod and turn toward the door. “Be safe.”

“You too,” and then the room enveloped me in darkness.

There were a couple of dim, flickering lights that buzzed when the lightswitch was on, and I saw the outline of a woman about 30 paces from me.

“You know, it’s rude to keep your clients waiting,” her sing-songy voice rang across the room. “It’s a wonder you still have some coming to you.”

“Well, it’s also rude to frame someone for murder, so I guess we’re even,” I deadpanned. I heard her steps echo through the room as she approached me. I decided to meet her in the middle so I could see her better. No need to be surprised if I could help it.

When she entered the light, I saw that she had her long, wavy blonde hair back in a slick ponytail, and was wearing a long black trench coat with combat boots. Her hands were in her pockets.

“Still sour about that?”

“Still sour about the gang?” I fired back. It landed, like I knew it would. If I had to guess, she spent most days trying to push those thoughts back down. “I mean, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“If you want to phrase it that way, sure,” she plastered on a fake smile.

“Open your jacket,” I commanded.

“Excuse me?” she sounded offended, but I just stared at her. She relended with a sigh and opened it. There were two guns and an entire knife set in there.

“On the ground.” She dropped all three on the cement in between us. “And your boots.”

“So you haven’t forgotten everything,” she sneered, removing both of her boots. She flipped them upside down and shook, but nothing fell out.

“I haven’t forgotten anything.” I motioned for her to hand me her shoes. When she did, I ran my hand through both of them, finding a small blade taped to the sole. “Clever, but that has to be uncomfortable to walk on.” I tossed it in the center with the rest of her stuff.

“I’ll take the liberty on this one,” Xena said, ignoring me, turning both of her pockets inside out. “Your turn.”

I did a spin, showing her I had no pockets and I was wearing a short sleeved shirt with no place to hide things. Even though I was wearing tennis shoes, she still wanted me to empty them, so I did anyway.

“Well, now that that’s over,” I huffed, putting my shoes back on, “Why don’t we get to why you’re really here.” I walked over to a dark corner of the room where I’d been storing her grandfather’s ‘letter.’ I snached it off a small table and walked back over to her. She reached for it, but I pulled it away before she could grab it.

“What now?”

“So you and DeLeon are working together?” I asked.

“How does that have anything to do with you and I’s business?”

It was a valid question, but she already knew the answer. “Xena, I know you and DeLeon have been behind everything. You’re working together and now you’ve been talking with Agent Archer.”

“And?”

“And, you know how things with DeLeon end. He will take over any agenda you have. Whatever you want, you won’t get, because we both know DeLeon is a lying, impulsive, control freak. It’s only a matter of time before you get into an argument, and I don’t think that will end well for you,” I aimed to rattle her, but she seemed pretty stable.

“Who’s to say it won’t end well for him?”

“You. You literally told me that the first time I met him. ‘Be careful with that one, Aundreya. He has an unfortunate habit of always getting what he wants. No matter what.’ And you know what, you were right. I can attest to that,” I said, my voice getting quieter at the end.

“This is different,” she insisted.

“You can try to fool yourself, but you can’t fool me. I know things aren’t going well. Your progress has slowed down, and I’d guess it’s because you’re trying to plan things out, and he’s not listening to you.”

Xena shook her head. “You’re wrong.”

“What’s keeping you with him? You know you could just let him self destruct and come work with someone who actually thinks like you. Who could actually help you get stuff done,” I offered.

She immediately caught my drift, “Really? You want me to come work with you?”

I nodded.

“Why in the hell would I do that? You took everything from me! You took my position, my grandfather, my gang, even my love-”

“Your love?” Is she seriously saying that DeLeon is her ‘love?’

“Yes! You were the shiny new toy to play with and I was old news. It seemed like anything I was good at and loved, you were better at and took from me. You took my entire home, Aundreya, and fucking Rafael let you! There’s no coming back from that! There’s no forgiveness in order,” she shouted, then took a deep breath, and finished with, “Let alone a partnership.”

“Xena, you don’t understand. Your grandfather did those things because he wanted to keep you safe.”

“His name is Rafael, and I doubt that,” she snapped.

“I have his letter, his dying words to you. He wasn’t thinking of me, or DeLeon, or the gang in his last moments. He was thinking of you. That tells you something,” I softened my voice, and cautiously took a step toward her. If I could sway her to work with us, we might actually have a chance of taking down both Archer and DeLeon, and get out alive. If not…

“That he had regrets? Yeah, does me a lot of good now,” she hissed.

“But it might help ease some of those thoughts that have been nagging at you for years, give you some sort of closure. It might help you put it all aside and move on. Don’t you want that?” I asked. Her lack of response was enough for me to continue, “Come back to headquarters with me.”

“So you can ambush me? No thanks.”

“Come on. We can sit down and read this letter together. Plus, I have the little box he left it in with a variety of other stuff in it,” I offered.

“Why would you have held onto it this long?” her voice was incredulous and her face matched it.

“He was my mentor and at the time, my best friend’s family,” I gave her a pointed look, “And I know I don’t seem like it, but sometimes, I can be sentimental.” And the future possibility of leverage isn’t bad either.

I cautiously turned to head toward the door, my back facing her. Normally I would have faced her head on the entire way there, but I wanted to see if, and how quickly, she’d betray me. I heard a very soft scraping sound on the concrete, which could only mean one thing. I whipped around and caught her raised wrist, knife in hand.

“Wrong choice,” I muttered. I tweaked her wrist, causing her to drop the knife with a clatter, and I kicked her back the way she came. For the few moments she was winded, I looked upward toward the rafters and shook my head. I hoped Niko and JT understood that I didn’t need their help just yet. I was hoping to deal with her all on my own.

I sauntered toward her and leaned down in her face, wrapping a hand around her throat. Before I could do anything else though, she grabbed one of the guns behind her and hit me in the forehead with the butt. I stumbled back and placed my hand over the spot she hit, blood already streaming down the side of my face.

Bringing nothing to a gun fight hadn’t really been my intention, so I was just going to have to improvise. Instead of waiting around for her to shoot me, which she would, I rushed toward her as she attempted to get to her feet. I kicked her knee in with the heel of my foot, then stepped on her hand that held the gun. She held on, so I had no choice but to reach down and try to take it from her grasp. In the process, it went off, echoing through the walls with ear splitting volume. I didn’t know where it hit, and I didn’t really care as long as it wasn’t me or my boys. I finally yanked it from her hand and threw it across the room.

Xena scrambled to reach the pile of weapons we’d created earlier, but I lunged over her to get there first. I was about to grab hold of the second gun when she grabbed me by the ankles and pulled me back. I started thrashing, kicking my feet in whatever direction, hoping to hit her somewhere that would hurt. I heard her moan, so something worked, but I didn’t take the time to figure out what did. I reached for the other gun and threw it in the same direction as the first one. When it came down to it, I could beat Xena in a knife fight. Guns were too unpredictable.

In a flash, I saw a figure land in the darkness of the corner, pick up both guns, and disappear again. God I love them.

I grabbed the second largest knife, and the closest one to me, refocusing my attention on Xena. I turned on my back for a better angle, but when I did, she was on top of me. She grabbed hold of my wrist and brought the knife to my throat, barely grazing it. I brought my other hand up to try and force the blade back her way. She brought her knees down with all of her body weight on my chest, over and over and over again, beating the breath out of me, and in turn, forcing the blade closer to my throat.

“How does it feel?” she bit through clenched teeth. “How does it feel to know that you’re going to lose to me?”

I brought my knee up between her legs, and struck her across the face. I shoved the blade upward, hearing a crack as blood rushed down her nose, dripping onto my cheek. I used the strength I had left to force her on her back, effectively switching our positions.

“It feels great,” I growled, taking back control over the knife. I brought it down across her shoulder, a screech escaping her lips. I stood up and kicked her in the side before opening a gash across her abdomen. Blood was spilling onto the floor, and I moved toward the pile of knives to collect them before turning back to her. When I did, she had a stained piece of paper in her hands.

The letter. I must’ve dropped it during the fight.

I opened my mouth to make a comment about it, but instead got cut off by hysterical laughter. In her dying moments, Xena was laughing like a wild hyena. “Of course. That bastard would never. I should have known,” she croaked out between broken breaths.

The letter was empty, just a blank sheet of paper I’d shoved in an envelope. I never actually planned on giving it to her, at least, not that one, and honestly didn’t even believe our encounter would end any differently than it had. “The real one is back at the ring,” I nonchalantly informed her.

“It doesn’t exist,” she shook her head profusely.

“I guess we’ll never know.” I did, in fact, have a letter with writing on it back at headquarters in the off chance she agreed to help me. It was fake, I’d written it myself, but had she come back, she would have never known the difference.

I was about to leave her for dead when she called out, “You were right.”

“What?” I was so shocked by the words coming out of her mouth, that I walked over to make sure they actually were hers.

“The only reason I was looking into you, using Corbyn, was to get answers about Rafael and you. And why you were working with the same FBI team that closed in on the gang. Your gang. I wanted all the info I could get so I could hurt you, like you hurt me,” she finished with a chuckle, but immediately clutched her side, coughing.

“Why are you telling me this?” My voice was cold and demanding.

“To let you know that my intentions seem innocent compared to DeLeon’s.” The craze in her eyes was enough to make me take her seriously. “When he finds out that I’m dead, he’s gonna come for you.”

I didn’t let her rickety breaths and threatening words shake me. I wanted her last memory to be of her ultimate enemy standing over her, so I composed myself before leaning down to her ear and whispering, “I hope so.” I pulled away to see her wicked smile, one that you’d only see in horror movies or nightmares. My voice sounded chilling, even to me, as I mirrored her smile, announcing, “This is for Sydney.” Then I plunged the knife right through her heart, her crazed eyes turning dull, but that curled smile plastered on her face for death.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

“I’m fine, really,” I tried to convince the growing circle around me as we made our way to the infirmary. We’d hired a doctor that broke the law in order to save a patient’s life, costing her her license. She could no longer work at hospitals, but we paid her well and she could still do what she loved.

“You’re not. You can barely walk,” Deen was saying, his arm wrapped tight around me as we hobbled up the lavish staircase to her mansion. She did get to keep that though, and decided to run her little infirmary out of the unnecessarily big basement. Deen with his bad knee, and me clutching my ribs and stained with blood were probably quite a sight making our way up the stairs to her front door.

“Jesus, I didn’t realize it was this bad,” I heard Mateo’s voice declare from behind us. I’d sent him to make sure that everyone else was okay, and get a report from Roman and her people about the BAU. “Let me help.”

“Good luck with that one, bud,” Deen rolled his eyes, “You know how she is about help when she’s obviously the picture of health.”

“Let me,” Mateo offered.

“I’m fine you guys,” I insisted again.

“Alright,” Deen said, shrugging his shoulders and letting go of me. I nearly collapsed without his support, and I would have if Mateo hadn’t been there. He caught me and scooped me up bridal style.

“Deen, you are the worst best friend I’ve ever had. And the meanest,” I deadpanned.

He smiled brightly, “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“I will hit you.”

“I look forward to that, in, what?” he gestured to my broken and bloodied state, pretending to look at a watch, “Three months?”

I basically growled at him, to which Mateo chuckled and said, “Down girl.”

I turned my fiery eyes on him, which only made him laugh harder. “Could you have said that any louder?”

Mateo opened his mouth and started yelling, “DOW-” before I slapped my hand over his mouth. He kissed it, which made me smile, and I moved it to his cheek which he leaned into. I curled a little farther into his strong chest as he turned sideways so we could pass through the door. Niko was waiting for us at the top of the stairs to the basement, and followed us down. Mateo sat me gingerly on one of the beds, and stood back as the doctor, Doctor Madden, started getting to work on me.

She started with the gash on my forehead and worked her way down. She patched up the small cut on my neck, then had to pull my shirt off me to see what was happening on my side. She informed me that I had reopened the stitches from when I got shot, and most likely refractured the ribs that had been healing, or potentially broke them in new areas. She examined the rest of me, and besides a sprained ankle (I don’t know when or how that happened), everything else was just a bruise.

Long story short, I’d be hella-sore in the morning. Pure adrenaline was making up for it now.

I thanked Doctor Madden, and so did the twins as they entered the room. “Can you make sure that Deen-” I started.

“Deen has everything under control?” Deen finished my question as he waltzed into the room. “Yeah, he does.”

“Thank you,” I croaked. The exhaustion, physical and mental, was hitting me all at once.

“How long are you supposed to be like this?” he asked.

“She said over six months,” I said, raising my eyebrows, “But I’m hoping we can cut that at least in half. We don’t exactly have that kind of time.”

Mateo spoke up, “But hey, we can call this one a success. Mostly.”

I laughed, knowing the ‘mostly’ was directed at my four injuries. “Mostly,” I repeated.

“The Lions have done it again,” Mateo smiled.

“You’re still trying to make that work?” Niko and I asked at the same time.

“Yes. It’s perfect. Alionth. We can’t just keep calling it ‘the ring,’” Mateo mocked.

“We have for nearly ten years,” I pointed out.

“And, it’s more inconspicuous to say in public,” Niko acknowledged. I nodded and pointed at him to show my agreement.

“Lame. The Lions,” Mateo insisted.

“Alright,” I said, rubbing my eyes, “I’ll think about it?”

“You won’t, but I appreciate you saying that,” Mateo smiled. The light in his eyes seemed to warm me from the inside out, ans I bet someone could scientifically prove that his smiles healed. I felt just a little bit better whenever he did.

“I guess we’ll leave you to it,” Deen said, ushering Mateo and himself out of the room.

Niko started to follow, but hung back. “You know, Mateo-”

“I know,” I cut him off, “It was unfair of me to lean on him like I did and let us get that close before leaving. Once on my own accord and the other not.”

“True, but that wasn’t what I was going to say.” I looked up at him confused, but he answered my unasked question with, “I was going to say that Mateo isn’t the only one that wants you to stay. Sure, he’s got different and, one might even say bigger, reasons, and you know, he does still have feelings for you, but there are plenty of others of us that are hoping we can do enough to convince you to stay.” I opened my mouth to respond, but he kept talking. “You don’t have to answer right now, just promise me you’ll think about it.”

“Of course,” I promised, “And thanks again for, well, everything.” I gave him a quick, tight-lipped smile. He nodded at me, and then left, following his brother and friend out the door.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I was doing everything I could to recover as quickly as possible. Doctor Madden said that if I continued on this course, I might be ready to ‘lightly return’ after four to four and a half months.

I didn’t even make it halfway there.

I was falling asleep in the infirmary bed like I had every night for the past two months. I still had people tracking the BAU, and Archer who I was told was properly freaked out, telling me that they were all safe and that the only creepy people around were them. That brought me some sort of relief, yet I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Nothing Xena says can be taken too seriously. She religiously lied, and constantly tried to freak people out. Especially us, me in particular. But there was just something about her eyes and the way she told me about DeLeon that compelled me to believe her.

And I guess we all should have taken her more seriously.

Because that night after two months of recovery, I woke up to the sounds of scraping on the ceiling. It sounded like someone was rearranging the furniture. It wasn’t my place to judge what Doctor Madden did at 1am, but this had never happened before. I tried to ignore it. I mean, it wasn’t too loud and it stopped after a minute or two. Then I got this gut wrenching feeling. Call it instinct, call it the wind, but something was wrong and I knew it. I opened my eyes and made a move to get out of bed, but it was too late. I could smell the chloroform all around me.

I tried to get out of bed, but all my injuries were delicate and I couldn’t move very fast. I tried to identify where the smell was coming from so I could get rid of it. It was a small rag trapped in the railing on the underside of the bed, near my pillow. Once I found it, the only thing I remember is a panicked, peaceful darkness.

Series Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx

[mycupoffanfiction]

Dragostea în Cărți

Pietro x Reader Soulmate & Bookshop AU

Title translates to Love in Books.

Summary: The Reader has a notebook that allows her to communicate with her soulmate. Little does she know he’s a lot closer than she thinks and there’s a reason why her heart skips a beat every time she enters her favourite bookshop.

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Word count: Approx 2000

Masterlist

Pietro Week Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, this one is one of my favourites, I hope you enjoy this little soulmate AU fic. I’d been looking for a Pietro soulmate fic for a while and I can’t seem to find one, so I decided to write one instead 💖

The subtle creak of the wooden door instantly made you feel better and even more so when you were graced with the soft ring of the old brass bell above the door. Closing the door behind you, enjoying the feel of the old mechanism of the handle, you stood on the door mat for a second, letting the rain water drip off you as you rubbed off your boots. It was stormy out, but you hadn’t let that deter you from coming out to your favourite bookshop.

A shiver rushed through you as the soothing warmth of the store greeted you. Taking in a deep breath, the wonderful smell of old pages, leather bindings and antique cloth filled your senses with a hint of a warm, spiced yet sweet smell of tea.

Taking a step into the shop, you heard a familiar mumble and the shuffle of books, a sound you enjoyed more than you liked to admit and you could already feel yourself starting to smile. Your footsteps were perhaps more of a telling sign of who the customer was than the sound of the door opening and closing and Pietro, the owner’s honorary nephew and trusted employee leaned out from the side of the bookshelf he was organising.

Flashing you a lopsided smile, his frown of concentration melting into a soft and dreamy look as he took you in, though you were not much of a sight on a rainy Thursday, dressed in a slightly oversized raincoat, you looked a little flustered from taking a quick jog towards the shop and you visibly shivered from the temperature difference.

“Good afternoon.” He greeted simply, eyes not leaving yours as you stepped further into the store and you returned his smile, probably somewhat goofily. You knew Pietro by name from hearing his uncle talk to him when he was around, though you weren’t sure that he knew yours. You did know however, that he recognised you since you were a regular and you were sure he reserved that dreamy smile just for you, at least you liked to think he did because you never saw him give it to anyone else when they walked into the store.

“Afternoon.” You responded shyly, feeling yourself getting a little nervous under his soft gaze, though it was the good kind of nervousness that sent butterflies through your stomach and a light airy feeling in your chest. When you realised you had held his gaze for a few moments too long, you awkwardly looked away and quickly dove between some bookshelves to begin browsing rather than making a fool of yourself in front of the handsome guy with an accent.

As you lost yourself in the shelves, you remembered someone had given you a list of books to read and you had intended to buy all of them that day if you could find them at your local store. Pulling out the little, well loved pocket notebook that was bound in leather with delicate blue and gold embossing on the corners, you opened it to find the right page.

Inside as you flicked through the pages, it was clear you were not the only author of the notes and inner thoughts. Another handwriting joined yours amongst the pages. It had been years ago that you had discovered the notebook was a shared possession between you and another, a soulmate so to speak. You didn’t know a lot about him, but you knew he was passionate about books and on the last page you’d communicated to each other on was a list of three books he’d told you that you must read at least once in your life.

You scanned the shelves for the books he’d written out so neatly for you. Just to save space in the book, you’d both messily crammed as much writing into each page as physically possible, though you were coming to the end of the book and you were terrified of what would happen if you didn’t at least know who and where he was and another way to contact him, but you were so afraid to ask.

Gripping The Tale of Two Cities in your hands, mentally crossing one book off the list, you ran your fingers over the backs of the books on the shelf, stopping when you touched The Scarlet Letter and added it to the other book, holding them protectively against your chest as you searched for the last one.

As you held your notebook, you felt a gentle pressure beneath your hands and you flicked it open, your soulmate’s writing spilling over onto the last page of the book. It was a quote, though you weren’t sure what from.

Her coming was my hope each day, Her parting was my pain; The chance that did her steps delay Was ice in every vein. –Song sung by Mr. Rochester

I thought you might like that, Prinţesă. He wrote and you smiled at the name he gave you.

You read it over a couple of times, the cryptic nature of it making you think about a deeper meaning to the quote he’d written and your mind could only flick to and from the idea of not knowing one another outside of your notebook.

Fully engrossed in your notebook, rather than paying attention to where you were walking, trying hard to figure out if you had in fact read it somewhere before, you walked straight into the very person you had been trying so hard not to accidentally bump into. You bounced off his soft, woollen sweater clad chest and stumbled back a couple of steps to look up at Pietro, who gave you a concerned look before reaching out to steady you, though hesitant to touch.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concern melting into a sweet smile and you suddenly felt yourself getting warm and rather embarrassed from bumping into him. “Oh god- I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and I-.” You explained haphazardly, but Pietro just smirked and shook his head, raising a hand to stop you. “It’s alright, were you looking for something? Perhaps I can help, yes?” He asked, accent thick and undeniably sexy.

“Yes, yeah I was looking for uh- for Jane Eyre.” You stuttered out a little, hoping you didn’t appear too flustered, but you knew it was rather hopeful to assume he hadn’t noticed quite how shy and bashful you were around him.

Pietro caught a glimpse of the other books you were carrying and quirked a brow, giving you a questioning look. “Jane Eyre.” He repeated, taking another look at the other titles in your hands and then noticing that you held a little notebook in your other hand. “Follow me, I’ll help you find it.” He smiled, gesturing for you to walk alongside him. “It is easy for books to get a little misplaced in here, I always order things but somehow they always end up in strange places.” He huffed. “I have a feeling it is my sister’s doing.” Pietro chuckled, shaking his head.

“I see you here often, you are my regular.” He tossed a glance and a heart stopping grin at you before turning to scour over a shelf to help you find the book you were looking for and you felt yourself melt from his ways of speaking, the accent and the way he looked at you. The fact he called you his regular – you were definitely over thinking this, you had a soulmate and this was just some random guy in a bookshop you frequented.

“Ah, here is Miss Brontë.” He found a few copies of Jane Eyre and picked out the prettiest one with a hard cover, cloth bound and it looked a bit older than the others. “You will enjoy this one, it is a classic romance.” Pietro explained as he handed the book to you. “Thank you for you help, I look forward to reading this one.” You smiled up at him, shyly meeting his eyes.

“Is that all? Come, I can ring up your items.” Pietro held out an arm to guide you across to the counter and you met him at the large, deeply coloured wooden desk where you gently placed down your books, loosing your grip on the notebook and dropping it onto the counter. It landed open on one of the pages you frequented the most and the spine of the book was used to opening on that specific page.

The first words on the page was a sentence you always went back to. It cheered you up on a miserable day and kept you going on days that were tough and gave you an extra boost on those days when you just wanted a little extra sunshine in your day.

I’ll always be here, Prinţesă.

The words were comforting, not to mention it was the first time you’d been called that.

Prinţesă? What does that mean? You had asked.

It is princess in Sokovian, Prinţesă. He replied.

You hoped Pietro had not gained a glimpse at those pages, it made you feel vulnerable that someone else might see them and you hastily scrambled to take your book back. As you rushed, a feather light touch landed on your wrist and you saw the carefully placed hand of the store clerk. Looking up to meet his eyes, you stilled your movements and he smiled sweetly at you. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your soulmate book, Prinţesă mea.” He winked and your eyes went wide in realisation.

“Oh my- you’re-.” You cut yourself off, pointing at the notebook as he picked his out of the back pocket of his jeans and slid it across the counter to you as proof. “I am, it’s me prinţesă.” His eyes softened and you relaxed under his touch, sliding your hand back and turning it so you could hold his hand in yours. “The books you picked out were my first clue, as well as the frequency of your visits here, you know soulmates are tightly bound and it would make sense that you are drawn here.” Pietro explained as he let you hold his hand, carefully gripping yours too. “But the killer was you dropping your notebook open.” He chuckled, smirking at you and you felt a swirl of embarrassment, bashfulness and an overwhelming feeling of happiness.

“I was worried I’d never get to know who you were.” You sighed, thinking back to how anxious you had been about it earlier that day. Pietro hummed and nodded. “Perhaps it was meant to happen like this?” He asked a rhetorical question, shrugging.

“Keep me company for ten more minutes and I would love to take you out for a coffee, if you’ll let me? I’d like to get to know you outside of those pages.” Pietro fixed you with a dreamy smile as he leaned forwards on his elbows onto the counter and you stuttered a little before nodding a response. “I’d like that a lot.” You managed to get out, hoping not to sound too flustered. You received an approving grin from Pietro as he reached up to fiddle with his silver hair for a second.

“Are you going to finally tell me your name after all this time?” Pietro asked with a teasing edge to his tone. “I don’t know, maybe I’d like that coffee first.” You teased, making Pietro chuckle in response and he gently lifted your hand in his. “Well, I would like to formally introduce myself, Prinţesă. I am Pietro Maximoff, Sokovian bookshop clerk and soulmate to-.” He prompted, waiting for you to finish and you bit your lip, loving how flirtatious, yet sweet with you he was.

You told him your name over the counter and he kissed your hand so sweetly. He took you out for coffee and told you many things about his life and you about yours. He shared Sokovian with you and before you parted ways, you exchanged ways of contacting one another.

That was the day that Pietro told you that there was love in books in more ways than one and from that day onwards, you looked at romance novels a little differently.

You were glad you had been drawn to that bookshop and you had finally discovered your soulmate all because of the very last page of your notebook.

Pietro Taglist (OPEN):

@valkyriesryde @bisexual---mermaid @sherlocked-bitch @virtualmemmecollector @megantje123 @sebbbystaaan @unknown-and-invisible @scarlett-berserker @yougottakeeponkeepinon @chiefwobblerauthorrebel @kitkatd7 @herwaywardskies @saltywintersoldat @potterssuperhero @mushyjellybeans​ @lancetuckershairgel​ @southernbell91​ @marvelgirl7​ @book-dragon-13​

#Pietro Week #pietro x reader #pietro x you #pietro x y/n #pietro maximoff #soulmate au #soulmate #marvel fic #pietro maximoff x reader #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x you #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver #marvel au

[jeonggukingdom]

your every wish is my command (m)

▽ Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader

▽ Genre: genie!AU, smut, fluff, crack

▽ Summary:  It’s Friday night and everyone you know in a 12 miles radius seems to be out and about dancing or drinking their lives away. Bored out of your mind you decide to call out the Genie that happened to fell in your hands a month prior to this very night. You just want some company, somebody to talk to and entertain you but things take a spicy turn when you accidentally make your very first wish and it’s a rather impious one.

▽ Word Count: 13.690 words

▽ WARNINGS:  Graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, slight sub/dom dynamics, very light breathplay, rough sex, oral sex, thigh riding, tit fucking, swear words.

▽ AN: I’m going to take a moment to thank all the writers that participated in this collab, you guys are amazing and I love every single one of you! ♥ You were so supportive of each other, understanding when we ran into a few problems and honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better bunch to share my very first collab experience with. Thank you, for everything ♥ @hobiwonder - @couture-kookie - @btsflufflysmut - @jimintykookies - @btssmutflufflove - @whichwaytowonderlandep

 "Uuuugh, I'm bored out of my goddamn mind!" You huff in annoyance, sprawling on your bed with a prominent pout on your face as the deafening silence of your room welcomes your words.

You roll your eyes to the ceiling, your feet dangling out the edge of your mattress in a perfect imitation of a kid throwing a tantrum.

It is Friday night and normally you'd be out and about having fun, quite possibly drinking your brains out along with your friends, only to regret all your life's decisions in the morning.

But you are regretting this one decision tonight after all so, either way, lots of regrets seems to be headed your way tomorrow morning. Usually, they would come in the form of an incessant headache and the shame for your actions the previous night but, tomorrow seems more like it would be in the form of your friends' tales about the night and all the good—and bad—things you have missed.

Your phone chimes then, right on cue, and you ungracefully roll on your stomach to stretch your left arm forward and fish the device from under the little colorful pillows and covers on your still unmade bed.

In bold black letters shines Doyeon's name, your friend since junior year in high school with whom you have the misfortune—or fortune, depends on who you ask it to—of sharing your college experience with.

The text she has sent you is akin to a cryptic secret message from the stone age and you do not have the patience nor the will to try and understand what it means aside from the fact that she is, clearly, already too intoxicated to even know how to type down actual words.

Your suspicions are confirmed in the matter of a few seconds when your phone rings again, this time with a notification from SnapChat. Dreading what awaits you, you still tap it open and are instantly met with the loud ass music and the glorious unfocused shot of people dancing around your pretty friend.

You can hear Doyeon screaming her lungs out along with the music and, rolling your eyes, you lock your phone again.

Your lips purse into another pout as you scan your surroundings in the desperate search of something at least a little entertaining to do.

You have spent the last hour scrolling through your entire timeline on Instagram, Facebook, and Snapchat, and you have reached that bottom point where nothing new is up anymore for you to consume.

You let out a strangled moan of irritation towards yourself and turn flat on your back again, staring at the ceiling in dismay.

With the semester coming to an end and your grades not being as stellar as your parents' would like them to be, you have found yourself on the verge of constant panic every waking hour of the past few weeks and it is that dread that has pushed you to make a responsible decision tonight, for once.

Staying in to study for your impendent exam seemed only rational; finishing up the assignment due on Monday instead of rushing it in panic tomorrow night for the hundredth time seemed smart and, ultimately, getting a little ahead with your mandatory literature reads—like the perfect student your parents would love for you to be—seemed absolutely genius and something you would thank yourself for in the long run. Clearly, a farfetched assumption that has been discarded a long time ago in favor of resentment towards your own line of thoughts.

When you had planned out your evening, it hadn't occurred to you that in the silence of the dorm and with the absence of Doyeon's intrusions in your room, you could be productive and finish up all of these tasks in the few hours between the late afternoon and the early evening.

So now, at barely 10 PM in the evening, you are left with no company and absolutely nothing else to do beside pathetically stare at your white naked walls.

Your phone rings again and you roll your eyes to the ceiling, already sure of the identity of the person behind the receiver.

Without a fault, it is your best friend trying to contact you again in her riled-up state and you do consider ignoring the call but then again, it's not like you have anything better to do anyway.

You barely have the time to accept the call and move the phone to your ear before Doyeon's scream in the form of your name reverberates in your skull.

"Ya'llneverbelievewhadhappend!"

Doyeon's slurs her words out in a screech that hurts both your brain and your acoustic walls, ultimately forcing you to put her on speaker and drop the phone on the bed to avoid permanent damage to your neurotic cells.

Not so surprisingly, though, you still understand the words that are thrown your way and that is because you've had this conversation quite many times before, especially in person with your brain lost in an intoxicated haze and the lack of comprehension skills.

"What happened?" You ask back, honestly just to humor her and see what she'll come up with.

Doyeon tries, she really does, but she can't really describe the picture in her head clearly and even though you give her your undivided attention, the only things you can make-out out of her rant are the words 'kiss', 'Hoseok', 'gottagoBYE'.

Before you even get the chance to utter a single word in response, you're met with the sound of the line getting caught off and the consequential silence that comes right after.

"Really..." you whisper to yourself in annoyance, glaring at your phone as if Doyeon could even see you through the locked screen.

Curiosity has your mind reeling on the infinite scenarios that could link those few words together and your eternal romantic side hooks on the possibility of Hoseok finally confessing his feelings for your best friend.

It is not a secret that both of them have been pining over each other ever since the end of last semester. Well, not a secret for anybody except them. Those two fools have been going around for literal months believing their crush was very one-sided.

"Ugh, why tonight of all nights?!" You ask at the blank wall in front of you, your hands fisting the covers in utter frustration.

You turn on your back, ungracefully landing on the bed, your face flat on the mattress.

"I wish I could turn back time," you whisper to yourself, tilting your head to the side to fix your gaze on the right wall.

Your eyes comically enlarge as the realization comes to you, the solution to your loneliness and boredom shining like a beacon in the night.

Your gaze fixes on your most precious possession lying between your textbooks in your own rendition of a library: a genie lamp.

Looking quite tacky and straight-out of a cartoon for children, the lamp that has changed your whole perception of what is real and what isn't, shines under the lights.

You jump on your feet with the excitement of a kid who has just arrived at Disneyland and with a big smile plastered on your face, you reach for the golden object.

It still feels weird to hold the ancient lamp in your hands, feel it under your digits and trace the outline of the golden decorations embossed atop the teal surface.

The lamp feels absolutely weightless in your hands and even though you're sort of accustomed to magic by now, it still seems impossible for something so light to be able to contain so many things all at once, let alone a living person.

It has been a few months since you have found the object, placidly waiting to be picked up on a deserted beach in your hometown.

It was the crack of dawn and you had been walking the long way home, enjoying the summer breeze and the nice smell of saltiness—the smell of home and good memories and peace and safety, something you miss with your entire heart when you're back in the city, living the college life.

You had picked it up because it looked like a toy, something a child would have lost and also because growing up, Aladdin had been your favorite Disney movie and oh well, even as an adult you still held a soft spot for it. It was, after all, the cartoon that sparked up your fantasy and imagination. Little did you know though that, when growing up, you'd find out that Aladdin's fairytale wasn't so farfetched as you initially believed.

You will never forget the moment you blew air out your mouth to clean up the lamp, in an attempt to make it shine bright again, and watched it spark up to life. You will also never forget the scream of utter terror that erupted from your mouth once a thick teal fog erupted from it and engulfed you whole.

In the span of a few seconds, you considered the idea of being way more drunk than you initially thought; having gone completely insane; having fallen down somewhere, banged your head and ended up in a weird-dream inducing coma.

The quick escalation of panicked thoughts had made your head spin and your heart rate spike up in your chest.

As the fog seemed to clear all around you, you had found yourself breathing in almost normally again, the thought of having experienced a seizure wildly present in the recess of your mind as you took in the scenery anew.

You expected the beach to be in the same state you had left it before you picked up that goddamned thing but, instead, you were met with two doe eyes, staring right at you.

How you didn't faint right then and there it is still a question you have no answer to but you did scream, oh God if you screamed and ran on the beach like a maniac, scared for your own life.

"Why do you scream so much?"

It had the voice of a boy, damn, he looked like a boy but he couldn't be one, because he came from that thing and if you weren't hallucinating, dreaming or, worse, stuck in a fantasy world of your own creation as your body lied peacefully in a hospital bed, that meant he wasn't human.

"Wha-w-what are you?!" The screech that came out of your mouth made him flinch and scrunch up his nose in distaste as he took a step forward, trying to reduce the distance you had put between the two of you.

"Well, if you had given me the time to speak, you would've known by now that I'm a genie and I'm here to serve you." The 'boy' bowed before you, his head hanging low and his back at a perfect ninety degrees angle to show you the respect you were supposedly due.

Terror seemed to dissipate in your chest, suppressed by a fit of laughter that you had no idea whether it actually came from hilarity or absolute insanity. Still, you laughed until your stomach ached, until your eyes got teary and your cheeks hurt.

"What's so funny?" He asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion, his lips slightly protruding forward in an adorable pout.

"You-you said you're a genie!" You could barely get the words out before you were thrown into another fit of laughter, unable to control yourself over the absurdity of the whole situation.

"Is my species something to laugh about?" His thick eyebrows narrowed as he studied you and your scrunched-up form, still giggling uncontrollably before him.

The smile slowly disappeared from your lips as you took him in completely for the first time. His eyes had turned cold, his mouth was held in a tight line, his arms crossed over his chest in defense, his stance rigid and mildly uncomfortable.

"Wait, you're being serious?!" Your mouth opened in astonishment as you stared down at him, "You aren't shitting me, right now?"

"Why would I joke about this?" He looked at you, clearly confused by both your initial reaction and your current string of questions.

"Is this some kind of candid camera?" You looked around trying to pick up on the hidden crew or a camera perfectly concealed somewhere up the road.

"What's a candid camera?"

"What's a can-really?!" You looked at him with your mouth open, your eyebrows knitted together in astonishment. Honestly, who doesn’t know what a candid camera is?

"Oh my God, I'm dealing with a crazy person!" You exclaimed, raising your arms to the sky in an over-dramatic motion of incredulity.

"You screamed at me, laughed at me and tried to run away from me and I'm the crazy person here?!" He pointed at himself, his eyes shining with both disbelief and exasperation over your refusal to believe him.

"You are the one that came out from the freaking lamp! Wait-" You stopped on your tracks, suddenly reminded of why you had been scared out of your skin in the first place.

In response, the self-proclaimed genie pointedly looked at you, his eyebrows rising up to his forehead, his hands resting on his hips as he waited for you to finally connect the dots.

It didn't make sense. Genies aren't real, that's what you kept saying to yourself because, honestly, who would have believed him right away? Who in their right mind would have?

"Prove it." You crossed your arms on your chest and looked up at him, fierceness in your gaze and defiance in your stance.

"Because clearly coming out from a lamp is not enough," he muttered to himself, shaking his head a little before relaxing his posture to lift himself up from the ground.

Your chin dropped alongside with your heart, your mind reeling in the attempt to grasp what you were staring at. He was flying. Like, actually flying and that meant either this was very real or there was something really wrong with you.

You felt the blood drain from your face as he gracefully landed before you, his lips twisted into a satisfied smirk whilst panic raged back on inside of you.

You gulped down heavily, unable to tear your gaze away from him in fear the moment you'd look away, he'd kill you. Which is dumb, of course, in retrospective it is but there was alcohol in your system and fear and panic which aren't the nicest combination, to be fair to yourself.

You blow hot air on the lamp and rub on the fogged up surface with your sleeve, cooing him out of the lamp with the same sounds you would use for a cat—something he utterly despises but that you still do just to spite him.

Nine months have passed since you picked up his lamp by accident and you have been through your ups and downs together, so much so you have started thinking about him as a friend. Of course, he doesn't know this and he cannot know this because you are aware it is dangerous territory.

Genies aren't meant to spend a lifetime with a human, they are meant to grant wishes and move on and once they do, they'll never meet their previous owners ever again.

You know this, he has explained it to you on that very first day and even though you understand the rules very well, there is this part of you that refuses the idea of ever letting him go. It's silly, but the feeling is there and it seems as unshakable as a whole huge-ass-mountain.

The familiar teal fog engulfs you, warming up your body as it enlarges in the air, moving around until it thickens into a living human-like creature.

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm a genie, not a freaking cat?"

"Good evening to you too, Jeongguk."

He rolls his eyes at you, his hands resting on his hips as he taps his foot to the floor, annoyance written all over his face.

"Fine, fine, I won't do it anymore." You peel off your gaze from his little pout, turning your back on him so you can sprawl yourself on the bed again.

"You said that last time, as well." He takes a step forward, following you to the center of the room to look down at you, his eyes shining with judgment and a little bit of mistrust.

You giggle as you sit up crossing your legs whilst you reach out a hand for him, sticking up your pinkie for him to catch.

"Pinky promise?" You offer, batting your lashes in feigned innocence.

"I'm not a kid," he grumbles under his breath but still joins your fingers together, side-eyeing you as you burst into giggles at his antics.

That's the thing with Jeongguk: he'd mumble, he'd throw a tantrum like a kid and look at you with ice-cold eyes but he'll always humor you. You don't know if it's because it's in his nature or that is just the way it is but you love it, either way.

"So, what am I doing here?" He asks, tilting his head to the side, his eyes turning into slits as he studies you, "No, scratch that. What are you doing here?"

You sigh loudly, suddenly reminded of your pathetic Friday night at the dorm.

"I'm here because I had to study, you are here because I want entertainment."

"Is that your first wish?"

It has been nine months since you have met him and not a single day has passed without him asking you about your first wish. At first, you just wanted to consider your options before wasting three wishes on trivial things.

Now, you just don't want to watch him disappear into thin air and forget all about you.

"No, dummy, I'm just bored out of my mind."

Your reply sounds lighthearted but you can't really stop the sadness creeping up in your heart at the thought of ever letting him go. You wish you could speak about this with him or with anybody else but you can't. How exactly would you explain genies to other people without making them think you need some serious help? Also, the most egoistic part of you doesn't even want anyone else to know about the existence of Jeongguk and the rest of his lot.

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Ah! You won't trick me into making a wish, I'm not that clueless!"

He shakes his head lightly, trapping his bottom lip under his teeth before sighing loudly.

"That's what I don't understand," he says, his gaze so intense it almost makes you squirm on your seat. These days it almost feels like he can read past your defense and it scares you to no end because you know what he will say. He would be right, too, in saying it but you don't want a wake-up call, not just yet.

"Why don't you?" He asks, narrowing his eyebrows as you promptly look away, avoiding his gaze with all your might.

"I just want to make sure I don't waste them up," your voice says. I enjoy your company far too much to let you go, your heart secretly whispers.

Silence welcomes your words and you let your body fall down on the mattress again, your eyes fixing up on the ceiling anew while your heart feels even heavier than it did before.

Your mind drifts off to your call with Doyeon, how happy she sounded in her messy-ass state. The likelihood of her and Hoseok being together right now is pretty high and yes, you are happy for her but also yes, you do envy her. It has been months since you've last been with a guy and it has been even longer since you even felt something for one.

With a pout on your lips you turn towards your genie, still standing at the edge of the bed with his eyes fixed on you.

This is another thing Jeongguk does: he looks at you all the time. He never lets you out of his sight and at first, you found it odd, unnerving and almost creepy but now, after so many months together, you've grown to like it because it makes you feel special, almost cherished. Of course, it is all based on a lie because it is probably in his nature to keep his eyes on his master but, even so, the heart feels and believes what it wants to.

"You know what would make me feel really better?"

You ask after a few seconds, a wicked smile spreading on your lips as you study your next words. Usually, you wouldn't talk about this stuff with him, maybe not even with Doyeon to be completely honest, but the idea of making him all flustered is too tempting to resist it.

"What?" He asks, his eyes shining with the prospect of you finally using up your very first wish. You swear to God, if he had a tail he'd be wagging it like a dog now, looking so expectantly at you.

You almost bite back the words before they can leave your mouth but then, you don't, and before you realize it, they are hanging in the hair.

"A good dickdown."

He looks at you with his eyes big as saucers, his cheeks the color of rose petals and his mouth slightly parted in a silence reply to your words.

You giggle at his response—or lack thereof—basking in the way he looks so utterly bewildered with your sudden confession.

"Well, I'm-uhm-pretty sure you won't have any problems finding someone willing to...?"

Jeongguk scratches the back of his head, his eyes drifting a little away from your face as he tries to get his composure back after you have thrown him so off with your words.

You take this chance to look at him, truly look at him without the fear of being caught staring, for once.

His black hair shines particularly bright tonight, soft and fluffy locks slightly covering his sharp eyebrows in a way that makes him look young and dainty.

His eyes are your favorite thing to look at. They are black as coal but still shimmer as if stars are trapped behind them, they are big and kind and puppy-like and they make your heart hurt whenever they fix on you.

His nose is round and a little pointed at the end, an adorable freckle is almost hidden under his right nostril and you may or may not have dreamed of kissing it before.

He has a little scar on his left cheek, almost looking like a cut and you have tried asking him about it but an answer has never come your way, no matter how much you insisted on your pursuit. You imagined a lot how it would feel under your digits. The rest of his skin looks so soft to the touch you truly wonder if it would really seem like stroking peaches if you'd reach your hand and simply touch it.

His mouth is a nice shade of coral, small but pouty and honestly so kissable it hurts to look at it for more than a few seconds. But then, if you move your gaze you find another freckle under his bottom lip and that is dangerous territory because you'd love to kiss that one too.

Everything about Jeongguk's face is soft and delicate until he turns a little to the side, or inches his head backward and you can clearly see the sharpness of his jawline; the manly cut that makes your mouth water and your heart beat faster. Yes, maybe you have developed a crush for your genie and it would definitely not be a wise decision but then again, how do you stop your heart from desiring something?

Your eyes travel a little southern, landing on his open white vest with teal and golden details on his shoulders.

Where his face is soft and gentle, his body is strong and powerful and he makes absolutely no effort to conceal it.

His arms are all muscles and veins that lead to pretty hands—have you ever even looked at hands before you met him?—his shoulders are big and look like the safest place to be held in, his chest is broad and defined and surely the most comfortable pillow to rest your head on.

Your eyes drift towards his firm abdomen, your gaze lingering there as you unconsciously lick your lips, incapable of keeping your thoughts at bay as you are presented, once again, with a body chiseled by the gods.

Whereas his pecs aren't the most defined and sculpted once you've ever seen, he makes up greatly for it when it comes down to his abs.

Before you met Jeongguk, you had never seen abdominal muscles that reached the upper torso in such a precise and perfect definition in real life.

The lines that delineate his muscles almost seem to have been airbrushed in Photoshop and,  if he weren't standing before you right now and you were seeing him for the first time in a photo, you would easily bet a hundred bucks on them being absolutely fake and post-produced.

You love the little curve of his stomach, the way it looks a little bit softer compared to the rock-hard muscles above it and, to be honest, that's the part you prefer the most: his cute belly button, the way those muscles tense inward whenever he laughs too hard at one of your jokes and, further down, the truly mouth-watering little happy trail of fine hair that leads to the golden waistband of his white pants.

You can almost see the curve of his hipbones peeking through the fair fabric and you have to gulp down heavily in order to stop your thoughts from going there.

You abruptly peel off your gaze from him and redirect it towards his face, a mistake you wish you hadn't done because you find him staring right at you, a little questioning look drawn on his face.

You feel the blood quickly rush to your face, turning your skin so uncomfortably hot you almost fan yourself with your hands.

"W-well, it's not as easy as you think," you finally reply, your gaze fixed on anywhere but him, as you try to will your heart rate to slow down a little and your lungs to breathe in some more air.

"Isn't it?" Jeongguk tilts his head to the side, undoubtedly trying to catch your gaze with his own but failing when you refuse to even glance in his general direction.

"Well no because thanks to you I, unfortunately, doubled my freaking standards on males!"

There must be some kind of magical force acting here because not in a million years you would have said that out loud otherwise. The thought that had been ringing in your head ever since he had pronounced his words magically appeared on your tongue and, before you could stop yourself, there it was, hanging in the air like the freaking sword of Damocles.

Jeongguk sports a little grin on his face, clearly not so oblivious to the way he looks and how it affects people around him and, truth be told, you would give anything just to wipe it off from his mouth.

"Have I, now?" He inquires, his voice sickeningly sweet and thick with something that is not curiosity, like his words may suggest, but, rather taunting.

“Oh, please, don’t act like you don’t know how you look like,” you roll your eyes in response to his mocking behavior, gesturing at his whole lean figure for good measure, “I mean, who even has an eight-pack?!”

Jeongguk is fully giggling at your outburst, his cheeks painted in a nice pinkish tone that suggests he appreciates the implied compliment he was given far more than he’s bend to admit.

He’s shaking his head as if he can’t believe what is coming out of your mouth right now, and to be fair, neither do you, especially considering the fact that you are one hundred percent sober.

Your lips protrude forward in a little pout, your eyes glancing at the door to your bedroom without truly seeing it. You are lost in your thoughts again, the desires that have been repressed for long months burning you from the inside out, fighting to be expressed out loud, at last.

"I just wish I could have sex with someone as good looking as you, that’s all... Is that too much to ask?"

You sprawl your body on the bed, your eyes fixing on the ceiling yet again but, this time, it is to avoid the inevitable eye contact with your genie. It may also be to hide the way you are biting down your battered bottom lip in nervousness, and the way little droplets of sweat have gathered around your hairline, the result of blood rushing to your face uncomfortably so.

There is dead silence in the room for a couple of seconds before you hear the sound of clothes rustling, drawing your gaze to the side to fix on him again.

It is with utter horror that you watch him bow before you, a little smirk on his awfully kissable mouth.

"Your every wish my command."

Your heart plummets in your chest, your legs flying to the ground as you stand up in the span of a millisecond, ready to smash him down to a bloody pulp.

“Wait what?! That wasn’t a wish, you ass!”

Jeongguk rises back tall before you, his eyes glinting with mischief and absolutely no sympathy over the fact that you may just have thrown to literal shit one of your three wishes.

"I’m sorry but you can’t take back your wishes.”

"What do you mean I can't take back my wishes?! I didn't even make a fucking wish!"

You are boiling with anger at the way he so clearly took advantage of your little slip of the tongue, completely disregarding the fact that you weren't actually expressing a wish for him to fulfill in the first place.

"I don't make the rules, _______. You made a wish and now I'm going to grant it to you."

He wouldn't be able to hide the amusement glinting in his eyes even if he tried to and a part of you really wants to punch that smirk away from his face, the evident taunt in his features driving you absolutely mad.

Your mind races with thoughts and plans to get you out of this but after a few minutes it is clear that there is no way out, no matter how hard you try to work around it.

"Well...” You say, your voice quivering a little as you weigh down your options in an attempt to get the best out of what you were given, “Can I make it more specific, then? Or does that require another wish to be expressed?”

Your voice is filled with all the insecurity lodged within you, your poor bottom lip getting trapped under the vise of your teeth anew as you stare up to him, butterflies dancing in your stomach and heart spiking up its rate in your chest.

"I will allow it," Jeongguk says, tilting his head a little to the side like puppies do when they don’t understand well what has been said to them. It would be adorable if it weren’t for his eyes shining with cunning curiosity.

“What about someone that resembles you?” Your voices comes out much smaller than you initially anticipated but there is no doubt he has heard you loud and clear.

His eyes are fixed on you, his lips tightly closed in thought as silence hangs between the two of you.

The more he stands perfectly still, without uttering a single word, the more your proximity seems to become uncomfortable, unbearable even.

With all the cards laid out so nicely before him, there is no doubt Jeongguk has picked up on the fact that you have obviously developed a crush on him.

But even if he did, he decides to not address this but, rather, scratching his head a little he utter his next words:

“I’m sorry, but I can’t create someone from thin air. Genies cannot create humans nor kill them or revive them after death.”

You inhale loudly, your eyes drifting to the wall behind him as holding his gaze seems to become an impossible task from here on forward.

It almost feels like the walls around you are crumbling down, allowing him to see the most private and not-so-pretty parts of your soul. Something you never wanted him to see.

“So... if you can’t create someone are you going to summon a real person?”

You are playing with your hands as you say so, trying to wrap up your mind around genie magic and its infinite set of rules that you can’t even begin to comprehend.

“Not exactly,” Jeongguk seems hesitant as he speaks those words, his feet fidgeting as he clicks his tongue, a habit you know means he’s in deep thought—in this case probably trying to figure out the best way to explain to you how his magic works.

“Well... there must be some human being somewhere in this vast world that even remotely resembles...” your words get caught in your throat as you dare to lift your eyes up to meet his. It feels so humiliating to be saying this, finally admitting out loud the grandness of your feelings for him but at the same time, it is not lack of fine male specimen that has stopped you from fucking around in the past few months. It’s the fact that your platonic crush for your genie has made it impossible for every single human to stand a chance against him.

“I am no human being so, no, there is nobody else like me.”

His voice is deep as he stares down at you, all hilarity gone from his gaze as he takes you down, evidently studying you to the point it makes you squirm on the spot. You have never desired to disappear inside the ground as much as you do now. Would that be an acceptable wish to express?

“I see,” your voice is small, your eyes unable to peel off of him now even though you desperately want to, his gaze locking you in place, entrancing with the stars shining like beacons behind them.

“But I guess there is a way for you to have sex with someone like me.” He says after a few seconds, wetting his lips quickly as he scratches his head in uncertainty.

“What do you mean?”

“Well... you could have sex with me.” He bites his bottom lip, his eyes shining with a hint of doubt you have never seen reflected inside of them and it makes your heart stutter in your chest and traps your voice inside your throat whilst you try to process what he has just said.

“Come again?” You whisper after a few seconds, the words rolling off of your tongue feeling like rocks in your mouth as you try to push them out, all heavy and rough around the edges.

Jeongguk gulps down heavily in front of you, his eyes glued on yours as he takes a step forward, forcing you to lift your head up a little to stare back at him.

“Tell me you have never thought about it.” He says, licking his lips as he steadies himself, boldness firing up his words as he slowly musters up the courage to freely speak his mind.

“Tell me you have never dreamed about me and all the things I would do to you.”

His voice seems to drop an entire octave as he presses onward, his words thick with lustiness as if he were trying to seduce you.

Your silence and the way your mouth parts to breathe in loudly seem only to fuel him forward, prompting him to take another step forward.

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the sweet hint of cinnamon he’s embodied with engulfing you whole and your brain starting to get fuzzy with wanton desire.

“Tell me you have never touched yourself thinking about me, about my tongue teasing your sex, about my fingers moving in and out of you.” His voice is rough and husky and it makes your legs tremble with the tantalizing fantasies his words depict in your head.

When he takes the final step forward, all you can think about is his mouth on top of yours, his hands roaming all over you and as he takes your chin with one hand, caressing your skin as he tips your face forward, your heart drops in your chest.

“Tell me you haven’t imagined how my cock would feel like inside of you and I’ll take back my offer.”

Your mouth suddenly feels as dry as a desert, your mind reeling with the infinite possibilities nicely laid out before you—if nine months worth of wet dreams is anything to go by.

You should jump at the offer, don’t even stop for a whole second to consider it and just take it but there is that little drop of doubt squeezing your heart, making it impossible for you to blindly follow your desires.

“Do you really mean it?” You ask in a whisper, wetting your lips as you search his eyes for any hint of doubt hidden inside them, “I don’t want this unless you truly want it too.”

Jeongguk tips his head a little to the side, inhaling deeply before sighing out loud, his eyes closing for a brief second.

“I thought I had made it clear enough with my words,” he says after a moment, his hands traveling down your body to rest on your hips, slightly guiding them forward until they meet his.

You gasp out loud as you are met with his semi-erection, pressing slightly over your core so to not leave any doubts he desires you just as much as you want him.

“I don’t have to have sex with you,” he whispers, his face moving forward until your noses meet, your lips so close they almost brush against each other, “I want to.”

His warm breath caresses your face as he confesses his own desires out loud, leaving you completely speechless.

In the span of a few seconds, your whole world has been turned upside down by Jeongguk again but you do not stop wondering, you do not waste time asking yourself questions you can always get back to later on. No, as soon as the words are out, your lips are on top of his, claiming his mouth like you desperately desired to do so many times.

He gasps loudly as your hands fly to his hair to pull him down towards you, your fingers getting lost in his locks as you tug on them, forcing him to bend a little forward and welcome the intrusion of your tongue.

Jeongguk tastes like a summer drink: refreshing and sweet and so much more than you ever imagined or wished for.

His lips are as soft as cotton and they feel like heaven against your own, pressing and pulling on the supple flesh until you’re sighing for him, relishing in how amazing it feels to finally have him like this.

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and tightly clasp around the curve of your bottom cheeks.

“Jeongguk,” you whisper atop his mouth, opening your eyes to fix your gaze in his shining ones.

His lips are all red, slick with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you fear you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing.

He touches your nose with the tip of his own, his hands engulfing your butt cheeks a little roughly, making you whimper in return.

His palms come to rest under your ass, pushing you upwards until your legs are encircling his waist and your arms are clasped behind his neck.

In this position he is the one that has to look up to you, his head bent a little to the side so he can still gaze inside your eyes.

If you thought the way Jeongguk looked at you before was heartwarming, now you are met with the raging fire summoned by his love-struck-like gaze.

He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew.

You nod your head yes, holding your breath as your eyes close for him, waiting for his mouth.

Jeongguk’s kiss is slow and delicate at first, it’s drawn out in a way that makes you want more, so much more, and at the same time, it’s precious and laced with not only the passion of the moment but also the tenderness of a first time together.

It makes your insides twitch and your heart hurt and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own.

It’s maddening and exciting and a little bit scary because how will you go about your life now that you actually know what it feels like to be kissed by him, held by him so tight your bodies may even merge together.

Your heart is beating like a maniac in your chest and you pull him even closer, so tight your chests have no choice but heave against each other with every single breath you take. You don’t want to let him go, ever.

And these thoughts turn you desperate, they force you to make the kiss deeper, to lick his lips and bite them down, to gulp down every sigh and whimper that comes out of him and make them your own.

“I want you so much,” you whisper and in those words, there is much more than the initial layer. You want to feel him inside of you, on top of you, all around you but most importantly you want him for yourself and not just for one single night.

But you do not dare say it out loud, you do not dare taint this moment with the depth of your emotions in fear of ruining it, of shying him away. It may hurt in the long run but at least, you will have one memory you share together to go by.

Right now, he wants you just as much as you want him and maybe it’s not the same kind of desire but you’d still take everything he has to offer.

“Then take me,” he purrs out in your ear, kissing lightly the soft skin of your neck as he slowly puts you down on your own two feet again.

You wet your lips quickly, your breath coming out in hot puffs of air as your hands immediately fly to his vest, roughly pushing it past his shoulders and then down his arms. You are completely blinded by the passion burning inside of you, your hands eager to explore and touch every expanse of his golden skin. No, not just that. You want to taste him.

Your lips attack his neck, all rough and passionate on the tender skin, blooming purple roses against it until he’s softly moaning out your name, his hands pulling you closer so that you won’t stop torturing his flesh in the best ways possible.

Jeongguk emits the most beautiful sounds your ears have ever heard. He whines and sighs and grunts for you, he closes his eyes as he parts his lips to whimper out your name with every new thing you find that excites him and it drives you absolutely insane. You can’t stop wondering how he would sound like as you fuck him hard, rock on his cock to milk his orgasm, make him beg not to stop. God, you desperately want to break him and draw all these nice sounds out of him.

Your lips are scorching hot against his naked skin and he shivers as you start kissing him along the line of his clavicles, slowly moving south to his pecks and even further, to the object of your current desire: his muscular abs.

Your tongue darts out of your mouth to taste the tight and firm skin and he whimpers again at the sensation, throwing his head a little backward as his fingers grasp your hair.

It feels like breaking him little by little and you can only imagine how good he will sound once your undivided attention is finally on his cock.

A wicked smile spreads on your lips as you keep kissing and licking the expanse of his abs, particularly focusing on the supple flesh around his belly button.

Your once rough kisses turn gentler as you keep inching downwards, exploring the trail of hair that leads to the treasure still concealed by his white pants. Goosebumps gather on his skin as your lips turn even softer, barely pressing over the flesh whilst your nose nuzzles forward, teasing him a little with the briefest of contacts.

You lift your gaze upwards, smiling when you find his eyes trained on you, focused on your every movement. His pupils are blown out and his hair disheveled with your previous kissing session making him look already well-fucked while you haven’t even started yet.

Keeping your gaze locked on his, you move your hands behind his back, reaching for the firm curve of his ass only to grasp the golden waistband of his pants.

You slide them down slowly, your eyes taunting him as you keep studying his face, the way he bites his lips in anticipation or gulps down heavily at the prospect ahead of him.

As the soft fabric of his pants moves past the curve of his ass, consequently sliding down his legs, you watch him shudder and bite his bottom lip in foretaste and it is that sight that prompts you to look down again, seeking a glimpse at the treasure hidden between his legs.

Your breath trembles as you exhale loudly at the vision laid before your very eyes. Jeongguk's cock stands almost fully erected before you in all its glory—his underwear nowhere to be seen—ready to receive the attention it so desperately seeks.

As you stand up before him again, mouth watering with the prospect of finally having him all for your self, you offer a hand for him to grab. His fingers intertwine with your own effortlessly and it is a simple touch really, nothing to compare with the activities you have been sharing thus far but still, it makes your heart leap in your chest and a smile spread on your lips.

Without uttering a single word you slowly guide him to your bed to make him sit on the edge of your soft mattress.

His legs automatically spread nicely for you as he tilts his head upwards, looking up at you expectantly.

With a soft smile you inch forward, quickly capturing his lips with your own yet again while your left hand slides down from his neck to his pecks, your fingers slightly grazing his skin as you move southward, taunting him with your slow movements and relishing in the way his muscles start to tense more the closer you get to his sex.

He whimpers on your mouth as soon as your fingers graze the surface of his length with the softest of touches and you smirk atop his lips, rejoicing in the way he so easily reacts to your every movement.

“Someone’s a little eager,” you whisper, searching for his eyes with a little taunting smile on your lips.

“Don’t tease, please.” His voice is thick, his eyes big and staring at you in a puppy-like fashion that makes your heart hurt. How can someone be this hot and cute at the same damn time? In an instant, you want to devour him whole, make him beg you to let him cum inside of you and then let him ruin you completely in return.

You take a step forward to sit on top of his muscular right thigh, your lips so close to his mouth that your breaths start to mingle whilst you slowly rock your hips forward on top of him.

Your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, slowly gliding upwards in delicate and tentative strokes that will bring him a little pleasure without the risk of you chafing him in the process.

“I want to touch you,” he whimpers out, his eyes pleading as he looks up at you.

You watch him gulp down heavily as your hips roll a little faster over his thigh, you watch his pupils dilate as your mouth opens in a sigh of pleasure given by the nice friction his toned muscles provide on your fully clothed core.

You nod your head yes in response, your breath quickened by the excitement coiling nicely in your belly and he jumps at the chance of finally putting his hands all over you.

It is such a juxtaposition for him to act this way—all needy and submitted to your desires—when only a few instants ago he was being all confident and cocky but it is also utterly endearing and new for you, at the same time.

His fingers are timid as they approach your skin, slowly infiltrating under your shirt to finally caress your flesh and burn it with his digits, imprint his passage on every inch of your body.

His touch is soft at first as he scans your entire upper body with his hands but as soon as he finds the supple curve of your uncovered tits, he turns rougher, needier.

Your hand is still taunting his cock, your thumb teasing his head ever so slightly to draw out unsteady breaths and little whimpers out of him.

You catch up the glint in his eyes as he keeps tugging on your shirt, hoping to make it ride a little higher and expose your entire chest to him, and with a silent grin, you help him get the garment off of you and give him the treat he so desperately desired to receive.

His mouth is on your chest in the span of a few seconds, his tongue playing with your nipples with the same rhythm of your hand around is now fully erected cock.

Your back arches a little for him, your mouth opening in a silent moan as the wetness of your underwear begins to uncomfortably stick to your slick sex.

You gulp down heavily as you still your hips on top of him, your tongue daring out of your mouth to lick your dry lips and slow down the rampant beating of your heart.

He looks up at you ardently as you rise on your feet again, releasing your hold on his cock just long enough for you to get rid of your sweat pants and stand before him in nothing but your very flimsy pair of white panties.

He bites down his bottom lip as he stares up at you, his arms inching forward to grasp your hips and guide you back to him so he can keep studying and mapping every crevice of your body.

He kisses your stomach, nuzzles his nose between your tits to inhale loudly the sweet scent of your skin and you shiver under him, sighing in pleasure at the simplest of touches.

“Can I ride your dick?” You ask in a breath, your eyes searching for his to gauge his response to your lewd question.

“Fuck,” he whimpers out, his eyes almost rolling back inside his head just at the thought of having you above him, fucking him to completion, “Please do.”

You push him down the mattress with your hands to quickly climb on top of him, your legs straddling his hips as you inch a little forward to capture his lips.

His hands are firm around the curve of your ass, guiding your hips up and down to create a little friction between his hard cock and your clothed sex.

The sensation of his girth between your slick lips is already enough to make you sigh for him and as you do he takes the chance to slip his tongue past your teeth and inside your mouth. The kiss is scorching hot, it leaves you breathless and desperate to finally feel him inside of you and as soon as one of his hands is between your legs, you turn a whimpering mess for him.

He pushes your panties to the side and if the lewd sound your underwear emits as he pushes it away from your sex is anything to go by, you must be soaking wet at this point.

He inhales sharply atop your lips, cutting the kiss short so that he can focus on the little bundle of nerves between your legs.

You have been dreaming about his hands for literal months and yet they feel like nothing you have experienced before.

His little circular motions are slow and deep and they make your stomach contract in waves of pleasure.

“Oh, Jeongguk,” you moan his name and he attaches his mouth to the base of your neck to suck on the tender flesh and tint it a dark shade of purple.

A sob escapes your mouth as he pushes a finger inside of you, stretching your walls with its dragged out circular motions in and out of your core.

Jeongguk may have looked like a needy sub up to this point but there is no doubt he really knows what he is doing.

He finds your pleasure spots with utter ease and he is not afraid to hit on them with sheer precision to draw all the beautiful sounds out of your mouth.

“I want to fuck you,” you whimper out after a while and he chuckles a little, quickly retrieving his exploring fingers from inside of you.

As he pushes his back on the mattress again his expectant eyes focus on you anew, a little smirk on his mouth.

You visibly shiver as he brings his coated finger to his lips and sucks on the slick digit.

You lick your lips a few times as you watch his tongue dart out of his mouth to keep licking his finger in a lewd depiction of what he would do if that were to be your sex instead of his own digit.

Fire seems to be burning inside of you as you hastily remove your underwear and align your core to his turgid cock, eager to finally feel him inside of you.

Your hand grips his shaft by the balls, keeping it perfectly still as you gradually sink onto him, welcoming him past your slick walls.

He inhales loudly, closing his eyes as you slowly keep pushing yourself down, meeting his cock to its fullest potential until he is completely lodged inside of you, stretching your walls in a blissful way that makes you sigh in pleasure.

You stay perfectly still for a few second, willing your core to relax and adjust to the intrusion of his girth while your left hand reaches behind your back to squeeze his balls and add pleasure to the feeling of your walls slightly contracting all around him.

He hisses at the new sensation, biting his bottom lip to gulp down the heavenly sounds you love to hear from him and you retaliate by squeezing him harder, almost painfully so, until he is forced to cry out loud.

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper into his ear as you lean forward to steal another kiss from him, “I want to hear you scream.”

Jeongguk whines at your words, his bottom lip protruding forward into a little pout as he stares right inside your eyes.

“Fuck me,” he whimpers out, his hips slightly rotating against your own in his desperate search for some friction, “Please.”

Your eyes almost roll back inside your head at the needy tone his words are laced with. All the power he has bestowed upon you is making you dizzy, mad with the desire of taunting him until he breaks and begs for more.

You lift your hips a little and then roughly sink onto him again, relishing in the sound of your ass cheeks smacking his thighs and balls in the process.

Tilting your head a little backward you start rolling your hips forward for him, your bottom lip trapped under your teeth and your hands roughly grasping the soft skin of your breasts.

“Fuck you’re so hot,” he whispers as he looks up at you and the way you keep taunting him with your hands roaming all over your own body, with the little sighs of ecstasy you emit every time he exhales loudly in pleasure.

Resting your palms onto his pecs to keep yourself balanced, you readjust your pace to a rather rough and bruising one that has you whimpering and sighing for his heavenly cock, for the way it seems to be getting even bigger as time progresses and pleasure arises inside both of you.

Soon enough your room is filled with the lewd sounds of skin smacking on skin, of deep moans and low grunts, of lips desperately searching and finding each other in the blindness of desire.

“Ugh, you take my cock so well.”

Jeongguk is breathing fast beneath you, his sighs turning into full out high-pitched moans that make your insides clench with arousal. Every single one of his words or needy sounds works as fuel for the fire burning between your legs and it makes you even more eager to make him burst inside of you and come all over him in return.

“Am I living up to your dreams?” He asks after a few seconds, his eyebrows furrowed as he searches the answer inside your eyes.

“Yes, you are, ugh, you feel so good Gukie.”

The little nickname seems to work wonders on him as he grunts in response, his hands almost turning bruising around your hips as he starts guiding them down, forcing you to pick up your pace a little more.

“Harder, fuck me harder.” He pleads, closing his eyes while his mouth opens to form a silent ‘O’, the only inkling of the deep pleasure you are giving him he seems capable of showing right now.

You lift yourself up a little higher to plant your feet on the mattress and sink into him harder just like he asked for, desperate to please him and be pleased at the same time.

Jeongguk’s breaths turn even louder—his diaphragm contracting madly beneath you— his sobs a little bit more desperate as his orgasm draws nearer and nearer by the second.

“Aww, faster baby, please.”

His nails start digging the soft flesh of your ass and you whimper at both the pain and the pleasure the roughness provides, his hips start rocking upwards to try and fasten up your pace by meeting you halfway and bring himself over the edge.

The battering speed inside your pussy is heart-stopping, the head of his cock reaching your G spot with utter precision is absolutely devastating and it has you whimpering for him in a matter of seconds.

Your walls madly contract around him, squeezing him even tighter and making it almost impossible for him to resist any longer.

“Are you going to soil my pretty cock, uh?” He asks in a whine, his eyes searching for yours as he realizes your orgasm is as close as his very own.

“Yeah, oh-shit, I’m-I’m gonna cum all over you, Gukie.”

He growls at your words and you roll your hips even faster in response, chasing your release so desperately it almost hurts.

“Are you going to fill my pussy up?” You ask in a breath, mirroring his own question as you feel the wave of pleasure rushing from your head down to your core.

As your walls start to spasmodically contract all around him you feel him getting stiff beneath you, his breath getting caught in his lungs with the depth of his pleasure finally exploding in and out of him.

“Aww, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck.” His deep moan is followed by the sensation of his cock pulsing inside of you in unison to the spasms of your core and the one of his release milking your insides with generous spurts of white nectar.

By the time you both come down from your highs you are sprawled all over his body, his soft cock lying between your stomachs as you rest your head above his heaving chest, your legs nicely mingled together.

“That was mind-blowing,” you whisper making him chuckle as he encircles your frame with his strong arms.

His gaze is warm now, softer, and it makes you wish to stay like this for the rest of your lifetimes.

“Jeonggukie?” You ask in a whisper, making him tilt his head to the side with a questioning look on his face.

“I want to make another wish,” you confess, blood rushing all to your head as you tilt it upwards to stare back at him.

“Tell me,” his right hand comes to rest on your cheek, slightly guiding your face forward to place a tender kiss atop your lips.

“I want to have sex with you again.”

“When?” He breaths out, not a single hint of hesitation in his voice, signaling you he wants it just as much as you do.

“Now.”

“Your every wish is my command,” he replies, a playful smirk tugging on his lips as you lift yourself up and slowly make your descent towards his soft cock.

There has been this desire stuck in your mind ever since you undressed him and as you come to a halt between his legs, Jeongguk is made aware of your lewd intentions rather quickly.

His sex is covered in both your juices and a few drops of his own cum. To you, it looks like an absolute feast.

You lick your lips expectantly, pointing your eyes on his face as you open up your mouth to let your tongue do the trick.

You lap at his warm skin to gather up all the spilled remnants of your orgasms and he visibly shudders at the sensation of your scratchy muscle working on his flesh.

Jeongguk closes his eyes as you come closer and closer to his cock, already foretasting the moment your lips will close around it and work it to hardness anew.

You take your long-ass-time though, opting for a rather teasing pace and kitten licks that make him tremble and whine in annoyance when you keep getting so close to his sex while remaining so impossibly away from it.

“You really are a tease,” he mumbles under his breath, his head tilted forward so he can stare at you as you giggle in response.

“And you really are impatient, Gukie.” He shivers at your words and you tilt your head to the side, a playful smile tugging on your lips as you study his features.

“Do you like that? Me calling you Gukie?”

He hums in response, biting his bottom lip as if in deep thought and maybe he is, trying to decide whether he should elaborate on the reason why or not.

Either way, he doesn’t really get a chance to add on it because your mouth is all around him in an instant and he has a hard time breathing all of a sudden.

He whimpers a little as you suck on his soft flesh, your mouth slurping him loudly as if you were sucking on a candy.

“Ah! Damn.”

His abs contract as you suck on him a little bit harder, coaxing his dick to a new erection.

Your tongue darts out of your mouth to swiftly lick his head as you pointedly look up at him to study all the little twists on his features, learning what he likes and what he doesn’t.

Your left hand reaches between his legs to squeeze his balls and he whines as you do so, his eyes rolling back inside his head.

You can feel his cock hardening as you lick a long stripe from the base of his length up to his head again.

“You taste so good, Gukie.”

You mumble on top of his reddened flesh before engulfing him completely in your mouth again. Your jaw is slack and your cheeks are hollowed as you suck on him as hard as you can, closing your eyes to hum as his flavor invades your taste buds.

His hands come to grasp your hair, locking you in place above his cock, begging you to not stop anytime soon.

You let him guide your head, adjust your bobbing to his preferred pace and bask in the sighs of ecstasy that come out from his mouth, especially the ones that sound a lot like your name.

“Wait-” he whines after a while, his hands leaving your head to grasp the bed sheets, his chest heaving with the effort of keeping his orgasm at bay, “Wait or I’ll come in your mouth.”

You consider pushing forward, bring him to his knees and let him fill up your mouth, feeling his essence coil down your throat and invade your belly but, in the end, you lift your head up and with a lewd pop, you leave his cock alone to stand perfectly tall before you, glistening with your saliva.

“How are you so good at sucking cocks?” He mumbles, more to himself than to you but you still giggle in response, quirking your eyebrows at him.

“I’m a natural talent,” you reply before tauntingly licking your lips. ‘Talent and lots of experience here at college, actually,’ but he doesn’t really need to know that, does he?

“Can I try something, though?” You ask biting your bottom lip in uncertainty. There are plenty of things you have never tried before but have been dying to for a while now and Jeongguk makes you want to explore all of them, all at the same time.

“Anything,” he promptly replies, his eagerness so endearing you can’t help but giggle again. Who knew Jeongguk had this much cuteness in him? Surely you had no idea prior to this very night.

You slowly roll off the bed, your knees hitting the ground as you drag him with you to the edge of the mattress again.

Jeongguk’s gaze is fixed on you, curiosity shining in his pupils as he studies your every movement, eager to discover what exactly you have in store for him.

You arch your back a little to align your chest to his erected cock standing tall in front of you, ready to be the center of your undivided attention again.

Your hands start caressing your breasts, bringing them together to squeeze his sex between them and give it a nice deep stroke.

Jeongguk’s breath trembles, his body shuddering at the new sensation and you look up at him earnestly, trying to adjust your pace to something that will bring him real pleasure.

You tilt your head a little forward as you gather some saliva in your mouth to coat his cock with in the absence of lube.

Jeongguk seems to find the visual particularly exciting as he grunts at the image depicted before him.

A smile spreads on your lips as a new idea surfaces in your mind, then.

You spread your legs a little further to stabilize yourself on the ground while bending your neck all the way forward, ready to welcome the head of his cock inside your mouth with each passing stroke of your tits.

"Oh, fuck." Jeongguk's high-pitched whine encourages you further, prompting you to set on a pace that is bound to make him crumble in the span of a few minutes.

Maybe it's because you told him not to hold back earlier or maybe he is just incapable of gulping down all of his lovely sounds but, yet again, Jeongguk is turned into a whimpering and moaning mess and each one of his little mewls makes your walls contract on thin air.

You unconsciously start bringing your legs closer to rub your thighs against each other, hopelessly seeking for a little friction on your neglected core.

Your arousal is dripping down your sex, coiling in big rivulets on your inner thighs, making them slick and slippery.

"I'm-" Jeongguk wets his dry lips, his pants already giving away what he is trying to say but you do play innocent, pretending not to know what exactly you are doing to him.

"Do you want me to come like this?" He asks in a breath, his hands fisting the covers while the muscles of his thighs contract in the effort of keeping himself steady.

Your mouth turns a little rougher on the head of his cock, your silence perfectly proving your point.

"I-ah! I want to make one of your wet dreams r-real" He confesses in a whine, his eyes closing and eyebrows furrowing with the incessant waves of pleasure that keep rushing over his body, menacing to bring him down.

"Is this what you dreamt of? Me coming in your mouth like this?"

You slow down your movements, your mouth leaving his cock again as you ponder his words. The answer would be no, actually. You had never dreamed about doing this with him and despite the excitement of the act, you do have to admit that what he is offering right now sounds far more tempting.

"Not exactly," you confess, your voice a little hoarse.

"Tell me," his voice suddenly turns sharp, losing all the needy and sweet tone he stuck with for the rest of the night and transforming into something more demanding.

You can't help but shiver at his sudden character switch and he is quick to catch up on it, to the way you instantly start biting down your bottom lip at his words.

His once gentle hands turn hard on your body as he lifts you up only to roughly throw you on the bed.

He climbs on top of you with no hesitation, fire burning in his eyes as he kisses your lips with a new-found fervor.

You whimper in the kiss, your fingers grasping his sweaty locks of hair to pull him even closer and feel his erection pressed atop your core.

"You like it a little rough, don't you?" He asks, his voice husky as he puts a hand around your neck, slightly pressing over your carotid to cut down the oxygen income.

"I-I do," you reply, your bottom lip trembling with excitement as he rolls his hips on top of yours.

This Jeongguk is the one that has been haunting your dreams ever since you met him but, after discovering his other side too you find yourself unable to decide which side you actually prefer: the one that likes to be teased, tortured and submitted or the one that loves to be rough, dominate and break his partner.

He pries your legs open with his hands, his mouth sliding down your neck so he can bite the tender flesh and leave his mark there, in plain sight.

The pain is sharp for a second, making you yelp, but as warmth spreads over your skin it is quickly subdued by pleasure and the feeling of his tongue lapping the battered skin.

Jeongguk slides his cock inside of you with one swift movement right in that moment and you whimper at the sudden feeling of being filled again by his rock-hard length.

Your eyes close as he keeps pushing deeper inside of you, seemingly only satisfied when he is completely lodged inside of you and ready to fuck your brains out.

Jeongguk's strokes are slow, dragged out to the point it makes you want to scream in frustration. He almost slides his cock completely out of you and then slams it right back in with one single stroke, making you jump as he hits the perfect spot with maddening precision.

You know he is doing this on purpose to get back to you and make you beg for it just like you did with him. Still, you don't give him the satisfaction of bringing you over the edge this easily, this quickly.

You endure it, closing your eyes and grasping the crumpled bed covers, biting your bottom lip to hide any sign of both pleasure and frustration.

"You want to play though, uh?" He asks as he fists your hair, forcing your head to lift off the bed and directly face him, "Two can play this game, baby."

A wicked smirk appears on his features making you shiver in anticipation, his eyes glinting with mischief as he lets go of your head only to focus on his cock, slowly moving in and out of your slick core.

His hands find purchase under your ribs, guiding you forward until your legs are resting on his shoulders and he has complete access to your sex.

With the new position, he wastes absolutely no time to slam inside of you with all the strength he is capable of, instantly making you mewl in pleasure.

You try to bite your bottom lip again, you try to gulp down all the sounds you want to emit out loud but as he starts pounding inside of you, it proves to be an impossible task.

The taste of blood fills your mouth as the tender flesh breaks under the vise of your own teeth and you are forced to let go of the poor battered flesh, consequently giving up your resolve of not showing him how much you are enjoying this change of scenario.

Without a force helping you contain your moans, they flood out of you like water from a broken dike and they quickly fill the room alongside his grunts and the heavy sounds of skin slapping on skin.

He pushes himself forward, bringing your legs with him so that you are almost folded in half, unable to escape his bruising pace inside of you.

"Jeongguk," you whimper out for him, your eyes searching his dark pools as your chest starts to heave with your panting breaths.

He rolls his hips harder into you in response, making your eyes roll back inside your head, your jaw turning slack as your mouth opens in a silent moan of pleasure.

You feel your walls starting to spasm, your legs quivering a little with your incumbent release and you start to fear he might retreat, edge you and denial your orgasm in order to make you cry out loud and beg him to let you come but what he does, instead, is roll his hips faster and throw you over that edge completely.

Your ears start ringing as the orgasm fully takes over your thoughts, blanketing them with white cotton.

His cock still hammers inside of you, milking your orgasm incessantly, ready to throw you back into it as soon as it seems like it has washed out of you.

It almost feels like too much having him still inside you like this, battering your pleasure spot so tirelessly but the slight discomfort gets washed away by bliss again in the span of a few seconds.

"Fuuuck," you whimper out, the word dragged out by your ragged breath.

His mouth finds yours again at this moment, ready to completely steal your breath away and leave you absolutely breathless.

Slowly, he draws a little backward, allowing your legs to fall on top of his as he repositions himself, turning you a little to the side so that he can rest right behind you.

You immediately turn your head behind your back, eager to keep your eyes on him and watch him come inside of you for the second time tonight. You do not want to miss a single twist in his features as he keeps fucking you like this.

His hands keep you firmly in place as he resumes his pace inside of you, effort and arousal painted all over his features as he chases his own release.

Even when he is being rough like this, bent on breaking you into pieces, he is letting out those heavenly sounds that captivated you in the first place tonight.

They are absolutely intoxicating, they ring like music to your ears and if you could hear a single sound for the rest of your life it would be exactly this: his moans and the sound of your name on his lips.

You can sense his orgasm nearing by the way his hips start losing their perfect pattern, by the way his breath is hitting your ear more rapidly and by how more high-pitched his moans are turning as time progress.

You purposefully contract your walls around him, making him grunt at the sensation, giving him that slight more push towards the verge of his release.

One of his hands lets go of your hip to travel forward, his fingers quickly finding your clit to draw large and deep circles over the bundle of nerves to bring you over the finish line in unison with him again.

The arousing sensation makes it hard for you to stop your hips from eagerly rolling onto his, following the movement of both his hand on your sex and his cock inside of you.

He comes inside of you with a low and deep moan that makes your walls contract and your mouth moan loudly for him in return.

Your body quivers for the third time tonight before turning into absolute jelly, shutting down in defeat.

Silence engulfs you whole and for a moment you think you may actually drift off to sleep like this, with the warmth of Jeongguk's body behind you and the reassurance of his presence by your side.

It is actually him that stirs you back into consciousness, bringing you closer to his chest so that his lips can brush against your ear.

"Was that how dream-Jeongguk did it?" He asks, chuckling a little over his own question.

You turn inside his embrace so that you can face him and shake your head no with a little smile on your lips.

"No, this Jeongguk is actually better."

His smile is full of pride as he steals a quick kiss from your mouth.

It is so endearing to watch him get back to his more cute side but again, it makes your heart hurt. As you rest like this, looking up at him, the misery of your situation awakens back inside of you.

There is no doubt by now that you have feelings for this boy right here, very big ones at that, and it is something clearly impossible, something you have to forget and pretend like it never existed.

It is with that fear of tomorrow in mind that you open up your mouth again, your eyes shining with the menace of tears.

Jeongguk seems to read your mind again tonight as he quickly presses his finger on top of your mouth.

"Don't. Don't say it."

His eyes turn serious as he stares down at you, all warmth and banter quickly disappearing from his features.

"Don't waste your last wish on me." He adds, his voice thick with emotion as he gulps down heavily, almost as if he were fighting against tears himself.

"Once your last wish is fulfilled I'll have to go back inside the lamp and we will never get to see each other again."

You nod your head a little because he has already explained this to you, yet, you still want to make another wish, extend this moment for as long as possible, rejoice in it while it lasts.

Jeongguk shakes his head no a few times, hugging you closer as if afraid you'd disappear in front of him when, actually, it would be him turning into a teal fog before your very eyes, leaving you alone to deal with a broken heart.

"There is no need to make a wish when I'd gladly stay here with you for as long as you'll want me to."

His left hand caresses your head lovingly, his eyes pleading you to let him finish, to not shatter this moment and turn it into your last one together.

"And I'll gladly make love to you whenever you want to and not because a wish binds us together, but because I want it too."

Before you know it, there are tears falling on your cheeks, turning your vision hazy as the real meaning behind his words finally hits you.

All this time, you had no idea. You didn't know that his eyes were always on you because he couldn't look away; you didn't know that he kept asking about your wishes not because he wanted to move on but because he was afraid of doing so; you didn't know that when he was granting you that first wish he was actually granting himself his own.

"Don't cry," he whispers on your lips, his thumbs drying your hot skin as a smile finally spreads on your lips.

It is happy tears that keep flooding from your eyes because it feels like a dream, a fantasy you'll have to wake up from eventually but it is not. Not this time.

And tonight, Jeongguk makes you his again but this time it is slow, gentle and sweet; this time he keeps whispering loving words inside your ears and kissing your lips to steal away all your beautiful whimpers and make them his own. This time, as you come together in each other's embrace, there is more than passion shining in your eyes. There is love.

Copyright © 2019 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved.

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