#or as he put it “I've been up and I've been down but I have a certain skillset and I'd like to be of use for as long as its viable”

[lemonanddeepspace]

Pairing: Toji x f!Reader

Warnings: Fluff

*I've been missing him so much lately😔

Life has changed a lot for Toji ever since he met you. Never in his life did he think he’d find himself in this position. It’d be a cold day in hell before he ever admits that he ever did this. He’ll always deny that this ever happened– That this happens regularly.

“Can you cut up some cucumbers?” Toji asks, making you chuckle as you straddle him, putting a face mask on his face. He keeps moving, so you can’t align it perfectly. His hands are on your hips, providing balance.

“You’ll just end up eating them.” You respond, and a pout appears on his lips. Toji crosses his arms, clicking his tongue at the response.

“Whatever happened to self care.” He scoffs, and you giggle. Toji who looked at you as if you had shit on your face the first time you suggested self-care is now taking this more seriously than you do. You peck his lips, pulling back his headband to ensure his hair doesn’t get caught up in the facemask.

“You look so cute.” You comment as he smacks your ass. A gasp leaves your lips, and you pretend to be mortified, “Toji!”

“I’m not cute, woman! I’m a man!” He claims, making you roll your eyes as you peck his lips again.

You pitch up your voice before you tell him, “A big strong man with a face mask and a kitty headband.”

“Want me to show you?” Toji can’t crack a smirk, not with the facemask but he mentally smirks. He holds you down, ready to do just about anything even with his current accessories. “Because I can show you just how manly I am, in any way.”

“Hmmm… Tempting.” You hum, kissing him one more time. You manage to escape his grasp before Toji can have his way with you though, making that pout appear on his face again.  

“Let me cut you up some cucumbers.” You tell him as his stomach growls.

“Cut up extra, I’m hungry.”

[kkunzx]

Can I request a smut one-shot for poly Saja Boys reacting to fem reader wearing the lingerie despite her insecurities please? She knows she's not ugly but she's definitely not pretty so she was reluctant at first but decided to be brave & tried it on! Sorry it's so self-indulgent! I'm a skinny woman but I have no confidence to wear lingerie at all 😅

mdni, smut, poly! saja boys x reader, fem!reader, p in v, gangbang, lingerie, Eiffel tower!baby+mystery, slight exhibitionism (?)!reader, slightly insecure!reader, use of the word panties, slight degrading, spit + cum play(?)

my first time writing a smut in a few years.

F*CK IT OUT OF YOU

You've been sitting in your room with nothing to do, the boys were out at dance practice and you've had no one to talk to, bored out of your mind. Tossing and turning on your bed as you doom scrolled, still weren't satisfied. You sat up in bed out of annoyance to look around to find at least something to cure your boredom. Maybe you could dig through your closet to find a new outfit combination?

Hopping out of bed to walk to your closet, you found multiple pieces of clothing that you haven't worn before. Including lingerie. “Oh no…” you say as you slowly lift up the laced cloth in front of your eyes. You suddenly remembered when and why you had brought that. You wanted to feel more alive and sexy only to just stuff it underneath a pile of clothes, never to be seen again. You felt as if you weren't the best looking so you didn't feel like you deserved to wear a sexy piece of clothing.

But that was so long ago, you've tried to feel better about yourself as your boyfriends would always hype you up but you also felt like they were over exaggerating. You decide to at least try it on again, hoping you would feel better than last time about it. You fully undressed as you slid the top on first then the bottoms. It was a two-piece. The bra consisted of white lace around the pink triangle cups with an extra pink ribbon to bring the cups together into a tie. The panties had a white and pink lace mini skirt over the panties, fully going around your hips, you can still see the panties underneath as the skirt wasn't supposed to cover much.

In your opinion, you think you looked better than last time so you decide to check yourself out a bit more. Pulling out your phone to take a few pictures but you were rudely interrupted by your door being slammed open.

“Y/N! We're ho–! Woah babe…” Abby bursts through your door and pauses at the entryway. “Abby! You guys! What are you doing home so early?!” You screamed, attempting to cover yourself as you reached for your blankets. Abby teleported behind you to stop you from covering yourself. “Abby! What are you doing?!” You look at him as his hands are on your waist. “What are you screaming ab–” Baby walked into your room while still scrolling on his phone then stopped himself from talking, immediately checking you out as he looked up from his phone. “I've never seen you wear that before…”

“I know right? Doesn't she just look so…” Abby still had his hands on your waist, moving them up and down. “Look so what, huh?!” You were half expecting a sarcastic remark from them both but you were so wrong. “My love, is everything oka—OH! Well don't you just look so beautiful?” Romance came into your room after and immediately went straight for you. “Your body is so perfect, Y/N.” He put his hands on your waist also, feeling all over your sides and stomach. Mystery and Jinu both walked in after and for some reason, they stopped functioning. They were just staring at you.

The tension in the air started to grow thicker. Abby's still fighting you to drop the blanket out of your grip, you sighed as you listened to him. “That’s my girl.” His arms pulled you into a hug from behind as he grinded against your back. “A-Are you hard? Why?” You ask. “‘Cause you're beautiful, duh?"

“My love, have you been hiding this sexy two-piece from us all this time? You're breaking my heart…” Romance says dramatically. You could hear Mystery let out a lowly growl as he stands behind Jinu. “I'm hard too. Fix it.” He finally opens his mouth as he starts making his way to you. “Put her on the bed, Abby.” Jinu says firmly. Abby picks you up bridal-style and gently puts you on your bed. Blush crept onto your cheeks and ears. “Do you guys really think I'm pretty…?” You ask them, looking at each male. “We think you're drop dead gorgeous. But right now, you're even sexier.” Romance crawled onto the bed, hovering you. “Let all of us show you how beautiful you are.”

Romance started slowly undressing you, your top became loose as he pulled the pink ribbon apart. Everyone else joined him on the bed as they put their hands all over you. You've completely melted into their touch and now your top is completely off and thrown to the side. Mystery attacks your chest first with big hands and wet kisses, you're already a whimpering mess. Abby’s on your left already undressing himself with his cock in hand, slowly stroking it. He's massive. Jinu being the leader that he is, orders Baby to occupy your cunt. Baby roughly takes your bottoms off as he slides them out from under you as they go down your legs then onto the floor. “Such a shame the panties got into the way, you looked so cute with them on.” He mutters to himself as he lazily flicks his tongue on your clit. “Baby–!”

You felt as if your body couldn't take any more pleasure like you were going to explode. Jinu was helping take off Mystery's clothes since he did not want to stop sucking on your tits. You close your eyes shut. “No baby, open your eyes.” Jinu stated. Your eyes flutter back open only to be met with flared up patterns, each male glowed a deep harsh purple with yellowish eyes. You felt Baby go in between your folds, teasing you as he didn't fully stick his tongue in all the way. “Please don't tease me…” Mystery leads his hands up to your throat, slowly going to your lips. Pushing past them as two of his fingers are now inside of your mouth. You start sucking as you hear Mystery growl louder.

“Romance.”

“Yes, Jinu?”

“Take up her mouth too.”

Romance slides down his boxers and gently shoves his cock into your mouth along with Mystery's slender fingers. Your head rolls back to accommodate Romance as well. Abby rubs his tip against your cheek, tip sticky. Moans are being drowned out since your mouth is too full. “Give me your hand.” Jinu's voice is low. He takes your right hand and puts it on his length, helping you stroke it. “Hey, me too!” Abby whines as he takes your free hand onto his dick, using your hand to stroke himself. You're seeing stars and you're not thinking straight due to pleasure.

“I'm going to ruin your mouth, baby.” Romance picks up his pace as he's now face throat fucking you. Gags and male whimpers can only be heard throughout your room. Romance takes his entire length out of your mouth giving you a chance to breathe. You immediately start gasping for air only for it to be cut off with your climax crashing down on you due to Baby. It happened so fast that you didn't even get a chance to tell him. “Who told you to cum?” He looks up from your wet cunt, face wet, patterns darker than before. “I-It was an accident!”

Mystery replaces his fingers with his own tongue, still fixated on your chest. Both of your hands are full with Abby's and Jinu's cocks, they both had different sized lengths but Abby was just a little bit bigger and thicker. “I'll fuck you first.” Baby starts undressing himself as he lines up his pink tip with your entrance. He slowly pushes himself in and your slick completely covers his dick. He picks up both your legs and puts them over his shoulders, pounding inside of you roughly. “B-Baby! You didn't give me time to….. adjust!” You had to stop making out with Mystery to scream at Baby to slow down. “I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself.”

Jinu glares at Baby with that “Don't Hurt Her” look. Baby scoffs in return. You could feel him start moving again inside of you, slowly speeding up his pace to what it was before. Mystery’s and Jinu's hand slowly slide down your stomach going to your clit, both of them leaving slight claw marks as they went. Rubbing circles on your clit to add pleasure for you while Baby fucks you. Your hands are still occupied with Abby and Jinu, you could hear them muttering curse words under their breath. “Your hands feel soo good, Y/N.” Abby praises. “So good that we might cum on your pretty face…”

Abby realizes that you're not sucking off Romance anymore so he decides to help. Taking him in his free hand, jerks him off for you. His knees went weak. “We're gonna cum–” He announces as three of the boys start covering your face in their liquid. Jinu quickly wipes your eyes clean to save you from an eye infection later on. Their liquids were dripping down your chest and face as some of it got into your mouth. "You guys taste so good!” You cry out. “H-Hey slut, praise me too.” Baby pushes your legs to your chest when he comes down to your whole body, automatically focusing on your bouncing chest, sucking off the boys’ cum. Mystery left bite marks and slight scratches, Baby wanted to mark you as well. “Gonna fucking mark you up too…” He's sucking at your warm skin, hickies and bite marks already forming.

Abby, Romance, and Jinu were still trying to catch their breaths. Mystery still has yet to cum and he's been aching to be touched by you. “Right there! Keep goin–!” Your screams got interrupted by Jinu.

“Everyone, off the bed.”

“What? Why?! I was just about to cum in her!” Baby whines as Jinu tugged onto him, his dick sliding out of your entrance as well. Abby picked you up again to help you stand on your feet. “What are we doing?” Romance asked. “Mystery hasn't gotten to cum yet, so let's try this.” Jinu calls Mystery over to you. “We can't let her finish too early or else she'll be too tired for him.”

“You two, fill her up again.” He ordered Baby and Mystery. Baby immediately put you in the Eiffel tower position with him lining himself up with your entrance again, bending you forward in front of Mystery's crotch. Baby slammed into you as you fell into the boy in front of you. He looks down with your mouth opening, ready to take his entire length. “I won't be gentle with you.” Mystery then shoves his length inside of your mouth. You're too fucked out to think so all you can do is hold onto him trying not to fall. “T-To think this all started over some….cute lingerie…please wear more of it..” Mystery whimpered in-between grunts. Romance and Abby both decided to slide underneath the Eiffel tower position, sitting up underneath your cunt and underneath your mouth, waiting for cum to drip down into their mouths. “Please cream pie her, Baby.” Romance begged. He licks your clit and Baby's dick at the same time, he groans even louder. “Fuck, Romance…keep licking and I might just cream pie her for you.” He chuckled softly.

Romance licked even faster impatiently waiting for Baby to finish inside of you. Same situation with Abby and Mystery. “Cum inside of her pretty mouth, I want to taste it too.” Abby stuck out his tongue along Mystery's dick making the lavender-haired male groan, rolling his head back. Jinu was watching this all happen, wishing he was being touched as well.

You pulled off of Mystery’s cock, gasping for air “Baby! Romance! I'm gonna cum!” you announce as your hands grip tighter onto Mystery's hips, nails digging into his skin. Baby pounds into you faster to quickly bring you to your climax. It hits you like a truck, fast and hard, eyes rolling to the back of your head, knees going weak to where Romance and Mystery have to hold you up from falling. “Filling you all the wayyy up…” Baby's voice trails on, letting Romance lick his load from your entrance. “I'm not done using your mouth yet, Y/N.” Mystery grabs you by the chin to look up at him, sliding his cock back into your mouth once more. Grabbing you by the back of your head, he cums without warning into the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow most of it. “Here you go, Abby…” He pulls his length out of your mouth as you let some of his cum drip off of your own tongue, going past Abby's lips.

“Taste so good babe–err babes?” Abby ingested both your spit and Mystery's cum mixed. Everyone fell to the floor, completely drained, panting as their lives depended on it. You slowly look up to see Jinu, untouched. Although you were very drained and already sleepy, you decided to use the last of your energy to make Jinu finish one more time. “Ji, come here…” You motion towards him with your hand. “Yes, dear? Are you done?” He slowly strokes the back of your hair, admiring your pretty face. “Not yet.”

You make sure to give him enough attention as you did with the other guys, letting him know that he's important too. You tell Jinu to sit at the edge of the bed with his dick out, ready to pleasure him once more. You take his dick in both hands, slowly pumping them. You haven't exactly given a hand job before so you thought it would be a good idea to be cautious and be gentle. “Please grip harder, I promise you're not hurting me.” Listening to Jinu, you decide to grip harder as you start pumping your hands faster. You lower your mouth onto his tip, kissing his sticky tip a few times, before licking the base up to his tip. “So good for me…” He moans. You put his full length into your mouth sucking as you bob your head up and down. Jinu can feel your tongue as it twirls around him, driving him crazy to where he loses control. Both of his hands are on the back of your head and hair, claws slightly poking you. He's controlling your head movements, speed, everything. He absolutely needs to cum inside of your mouth before the night finishes. The rest of the boys are lazily cheering you two on, still drained from earlier. “Make him cum, love!” Romance shouts. Your hands are on Jinu's knees as he controls you. “Fuck…” he hisses through teeth. “You're making me feel so good in front of them..” A slight blush crept onto his cheeks.

“Let's see Jinu cum!” Abby's overly excited. Your mischievous laugh could be heard from your throat, the vibration making Jinu about to cum. “I'm cumming inside your mouth–!” He shoots his entire load down your throat, coaching you to swallow it whole. Tears were filling your eyes from your throat being filled and abused all day. Jinu falls backwards onto your bed, heavily breathing. “Way to go Y/N!” Baby cheers and starts clapping then falls backwards onto your floor again. “Please don't ever hide your body from us again.” You could hear Mystery begging from the floor, a thought forming into your mind. “If I ever say I'm insecure again, please fuck that thought outta me.” You declared as you also fell backwards onto the floor.

“We will!”

The room smelled like sex, sweat, and bodily fluid. Everyone was too lazy to open a window to let the smell evaporate, all enjoying each other's scents as you guys drifted to sleep on the floor. Jinu's the only one who actually fell back on the bed.

2.6k words

i popped pussy for this holy shit

got a few requests halfway through this one, will post it soon! :) requests are open for everyone 😸 please consider sending me some! i hope you like this anon :3

[z3mos]

maybe you just love feeling the pain of a thousand needles stabbing into your skin, or maybe.. just maybe, you find your tattoo artist extremely hot.

requested by @mysticaal-vee : Hello!! I have a request, could you maybe do something about Nam-gyu being a tattoo artist and tattooing reader and it turns into a smut? I've had this idea for a LOT of time and I'm CRAVING for stuff like that🙏

contains: smut!! (minors dni), fem!reader, oral (both giving & receiving), fingering, pet names, dirty talk, p in v, no protection, no use of y/n, namgyu lowkey being creepy lol <3

words: 2,7k not proofread, excuse any grammar mistakes hehhh

once again, you were sat on the tattoo bed, bouncing your leg up and down while waiting for your tattoo artist to come back with the finalized stencil. darkness fell outside, and the cozy lights in the studio made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

namgyu - your tattoo artist, had pulled a couple strings and arranged a late night appointment with you, outside the normal working hours. it really just started off as a joke, like, “it’s a shame we work the same hours so i have to call in sick to get tatted” and “how amazing would it be to be here at night, with no one else around”.

and now, here you are. alone in the shop, just the two of you - no music, no other clients or artists, nothing. 

to say you were attracted to namgyu would be an understatement - you have been obsessing over him for the last couple months, telling your friends all about him. recounting every single interaction you’ve had, describing his features, and babbling on about his talent for artistry - which you’re now covered in. 

not letting your mind wander too far during the 60 seconds namgyu had been gone for, you started dangling your legs and set your on the open door. the printer soon enough went quiet and after a bit of shuffling around, the black haired guy joined you. 

“okay, how do we feel about this size?” he said as he held up the stencil in front of your thigh. 

“i think it looks really good. it’s just like i had imagined, thank you!” 

“you sure? this is gonna be on your body forever you know, you don’t need to be such a people pleaser.” 

you sighed and rolled your eyes at him “we’ve been over this a thousand times namgyu, i don’t know if you’ve noticed but i’m like… covered from head to toe in your tattoos”

he gave you a genuine smile, one that made your heart skip a beat, and then he nodded, grabbing a pair of black gloves from the box on top of the shelf that was positioned right next to the chair. 

“alright, lay down for me please”

that goddamn sentence. you’d happily lay down for him. you’d practically do anything he asked you to. not that you’d tell him that.

never had the thought ever crossed your mind - that he would feel something nearly the same way you felt about him. to namgyu, you were simply another one of his clients.

but maybe that’s not entirely true.

what you didn’t know is that he had been watching you, not only when he literally had to to be able to perform his work, but also in his free time. almost to the point where it became stalker-ish. checking your instagram from a secret account almost everyday, following you from a safe distance whenever he caught eye on you in public, that sort of stuff.

he’s simply a creep. a creep with a big fat crush on his client, which normally would be a big no go for him. he doesn’t date his clientele.

but you were just something special. someone who he was willing to cross lines for.

namgyu put on his headlamp and got comfortable on the chair, leaning down to your thigh. his gentle touch sent electroshocks through your body as he adjusted your leg just a little.

“you ready?” he looked up at you with his big eyes, asking for permission to start. 

you uttered a small “yeah”, not trying to show how exciting you were. excited for the tattoo, or him being so close to your core - you didn’t know. perhaps both, even though you tried stuffing that last thought away.

once the needle hit your skin, time flew.

you kept quiet for a while, not knowing what to say. or even think.

after about an hour in of small talk, giggles and comments from namgyu that some might take as poor attempts of flirting, your bladder told you it was time for a quick break.

“hey, uhh.. i’m just gonna use the bathroom”

he pulled the tattoo gun away from your thigh and the buzzing sound from it stopped.

“of course, take your time”

 ౨ৎ 

he watched you get up, walking with your half finished tattoo towards the bathroom at the end of the hall.

he loved seeing you like this, in such a vulnerable state. under the needle, and under his power. trying to keep those thoughts away were to no use, as he had tried to many times before. he didn’t necessarily want to be this way. those pondering feelings just kept creeping back, and sooner or later he had to give in to them.

otherwise he’d die a starved man, and that wasn’t part of his plan. frankly, he didn’t even give a fuck about what you wanted, he just had to make sure you knew what he needed.

without a second to spare, namgyu put the tattoo gun and headlamp on the side table and leaned back against the wall facing the locked bathroom door. 

now he just had to wait for you to come out, then he’d make his move. 

౨ৎ 

splashing some cold water onto your face might wake you up a bit. or you’d hope it’d make you just a little bit less horned up at least. your mind had been wandering places you’ve gotten way too used by at this point, but getting wet from your own imagination with namgyu right in front of you. yeah, no. that’s just plain wrong. but you couldn’t help it, no matter what you tried to distract yourself with. 

when you had contained yourself a bit, finally ready to face the man who constantly lived in your wildest imaginations, you unlocked the door and.. oh 

namgyu’s figure was suddenly right in front of you. when your eyes met, it felt like the fire you had tried to dim just sparked to life again, but times a hundred. 

his mouth slightly parted, like he was trying to work up the courage to say something, anything. instead a light sigh left his lips. which funnily enough told you more than a thousand words could, and suddenly your lips crashed into each other. 

you couldn’t make sense of the situation, or who even made the first move. it felt like the two of you just collided into one another at the exact same time. 

his hands were all over your body, first cupping your cheeks, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to show exactly how much he needed you. yours were kept steady around his neck, pulling ever so slightly at his hair, pulling him even closer to you (if that was even possible). 

you felt the tip of namgyu’s tounge licking your lips, asking to be invited in to your mouth. 

you breathlessly inclined without a second thought, head spinning like crazy to the point you almost became dizzy.

all that could be heard was your own heartbeat and the wet sound of tongues clashing into each other as well as small moans you had a hard time keeping down your throat. the whole situation felt like a dirty porno. 

namgyu suddenly broke the contact, and held you in your place with his hands squeezing your arms tightly. 

“you want this, don’t you? tell me you want this” 

“i do, please, i need you” it sounded more pathetic than you had intended to, but it was too late to take it back now. might as well keep it coming. 

“i want you so bad namgyu, please” 

no other words were exchanged after that, he simply dragged you back to the tattoo bed, but before you got the time to jump up, he shook his head no. 

“get down on your knees” 

you lowered yourself and your knees hit the cold concrete floor while silently pleading for him to reveal himself under the trousers with your eyes still locked into his. 

namgyu skillfully grabbed a fistful of your hair into a tight grip while wiggling out of his pants, and along them went the underwear. he certainly is a man who wastes no time.

his already semi hard cock was perfectly aligned with your mouth. he let out a small whimper when your tongue licked his rosy red tip, making sure to get a taste of his leaking precum before opening wider.

he had the urge to just slam into your mouth right then and there, but for the sake of at least trying to not tire you out too quickly, he held back, just letting you do the work by yourself. letting you set the pace, at least for now. he didn’t do it to be kind or gentle with you, no - simply because he wanted you to be able to keep going for as long as possible, or not get scared and pull away.

“that’s it, take my cock pretty girl”

and with that, you managed to fit almost his entire length, the tip hitting the back of your throat. one of your hands lifted from the floor to use it to stroke whatever you couldn’t fit into your mouth. 

wet sounds echoed all throughout the studio as you kept a steady pace, using your tongue to drag along his shaft. 

“feel’so good..” 

before even 2 minutes had pasted he started going on and on about how amazing your mouth felt wrapped around him like this. despite namgyu’s dark fantasies and how he wanted things to go, he couldn’t help his wandering mouth, praising you every second, becoming a moaning mess.

and you ate every single word up, the feeling of needing to satisfy him just grew stronger inside you, making the heat in your lower stomach almost unbearable. in an attempt to get some friction you squeezed your thighs together tightly while slowly bouncing up and down on nothing.

namgyu noticed your desperation and pulled your hair back, forcing your mouth off his cock with a little “pop” sound. the two of you just stared at each other, not completely sure about what to do next, until he finally broke the silence 

“i wanna taste you”

never had you heard those words leave a man’s lips before. you’d given plenty of blowjobs before, sure, but a man asking to go down on you? that’s new. 

“wait. really?”

“really. i need it”

who were you to deny this god towering before you? 

he usually was one to just take whatever he wanted, not really giving a fuck about his partners feelings. but he felt something softening inside when you were around - maybe you brought the best parts of him out. or maybe he just didn’t want to risk losing a paying customer. nonetheless, he asked. didn’t just take. asked, like a good boy.

he helped you back up on your feet and lifted you up onto the bed where you’d normally sit and get tattooed on, not… whatever this was. 

you gave yourself a pat on the back for choosing to wear a skirt on this perticular night. made for easy access.

namgyu grabbed the fabric and lifted it up just enough to get a peek of what you had on underneath. now it was his turn to get down on his knees, tracing your legs with his pale, slender fingers. the touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you grew more and more impatient for every second that went by without him touching where you most needed it.

he brought his fingers closer to your core, making you rock your hips towards him. 

“nuh uh, keep still for me”

he wanted nothing more than to just shove his painfully hard cock right into your tight hole, but he had to contain himself just a little while longer. needed to feel you leak against his wet mouth, wanting to hear what kinds of sounds you’d make when he licked your folds just perfectly.

he put his hands on your thighs to keep you from moving, being carefully aware not to come close to your unfinished tattoo. 

“fuck, i think i just need to put some plastic around that real quick. don’t want to get your juices all over it”

you let out a giggle while he patted down some fling wrap on it before he pulled you to the very edge of the bed. you kept yourself steady with your hands behind you, leaning back a bit to make it easier for namgyu.

he started leaving bite marks and hickeys on your inner thighs, causing you to squeal between moans. when he felt satisfied with his work, he moved on to your dripping wet cunt, kissing the lacey fabric of your thong before moving it aside. 

“so wet for me already” he chuckled, making you feel the embarrassment heat up. it wasn’t even a question, just a statement. a humiliating, but true one.

he leaned in, closing the gap between his mouth and your pussy. he started smearing his saliva all over your folds with his tongue while his nose bumped into your clit. 

“oh my god, namgyu..” it sounded more like a moan rather than a sentence, and he appreciated that. hearing you whine and beg for more apparently worked extremely well on him, making him move his tongue faster, pumping in and out of your aching hole. 

with nothing else to grab onto your hands found their way to his hair, pulling it just enough to push his nose and mouth even deeper.

after only a couple of minutes your legs started shaking, and namgyu just kept going, but slowed down the pace just enough for you to react and look down on him. he was already staring at you, eyes dark and full of lust. he wanted more of you.

“please, just take me, or i’ll seriously come right now”

౨ৎ

namgyu stretched you out so good, fucking you stupid til’ you saw stars.

“you have no idea how much i’ve been thinking about this”

he had been thinking about you while masturbating, wishing it was your hand stroking him instead of his own. the thought of it made you shiver.

“yeah?”

“yeah”

he kept going, and didn’t stop at just the boring old missionary as he called it (even though he absolutely loved playing with your tits while pumping in and out of your tight hole - he likes to keep his hands busy).

the two of you tried every position in the book, but namgyu’s personal favorite was having you on top of him, doing all the work by yourself as he sat back and enjoyed the view.

at this point the sweat was dripping down your forehead, and you whined and begged for him to get back into control. your legs soon gave out and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold yourself up.

“no, c’mon you can keep going sweetie, just ride me like that.. fuck yes..” 

“fuck please namgyu let me cum”

“you wanna cum on my cock pretty girl? yeah i guess you’ve earned it.. fuck i’m gonna cum too, keep going, keep going”

your eyes rolled back into your head when you felt the warm, familiar feeling of the orgasm washing over you like a wave. or more like a tsunami. it was all so overwhelming - there wasn’t a single part of your body that hadn’t been touched by him.

you came first, with namgyu filling you up just milliseconds later. you didn’t want him to pull out just yet, so you sat still on top of him, not getting off until he had to physically lift you up.

“holy shit, that’s probably the best sex i’ve ever had in my entire life”

౨ৎ

you left the tattoo studio together that night. he wouldn’t even let you pay for the tattoo (that for the record was still unfinished).

that shit was so worth it, and you’d make sure to leave a 5-star review when you get home. especially because of what he said right before saying goodbye in front of your apartment "i'll take you out on a real date tomorrow. see ya"

a/n: WAHHH i worked so hard on this but i don't dare to read it through. so whatever this was, i hope you enjoyed! (especially you vee, this was for you)

[7-wonders]

The Fundamentals of Romancing One's Soulmate (String of Fate pt. 3)

Summary: Morpheus learns more about what a soulmate bond with a mortal entails, and finally gets to talk to you.

Word count: 7.2k

A note from the author: I fear I included too much in this chapter, but once I started writing I couldn't seem to stop. Thank you all so much for the love on the previous parts—I read all of the comments and tags over and over again, unable to believe how lucky I am that you all are reading and enjoying this. Like I said last time, I'd love to hear any romance tropes you'd like to see in this story! I've gotten a few really good suggestions that I'm excited to include as we get further into this ride.

As always, I hope you enjoy reading, and would greatly appreciate hearing from you about your thoughts on this!

Part 1 | Part 2

He does not mean to end up standing outside the doorway leading to your dream. Yet somehow, Morpheus has found himself here all the same, one hand hovering above the doorknob as he fights a war within himself as to whether he will make the situation better or worse for himself by giving in to what he wants.

In the hours after returning from Destiny’s realm, Morpheus was determined to work as he normally does—diligently and without any distractions. The Dreaming is nearly back to the grandeur and power that it was before his absence, but there was still room for plenty of improvements (improvements that were, unfortunately, put on hold when he became the owner of the key to Hell). Nothing has ever come between him and his responsibilities, his duties; he will not let that happen now.

He started at his personal desk, hoping to respond to petitions from various factions of the dreamfolk hoping for his aid—a group of nightmares requesting a hearing to address infighting that could not be peacefully resolved and a cadre of children’s dreams wanting to discuss a potential takeover of one of the old, abandoned skerries of the Dreaming, to name a few. While other rulers have often complained about having to hear the problems of the denizens they ruled over, it has always been one of the most cherished parts of Morpheus’s job. If he did not have a good relationship with his dreams and nightmares, then there would be nothing of substance for the dreamers to experience when they entered his realm.

No matter how big or small, major arcana or not, all of his dreams and nightmares were important to him, and all of their petitions deserve a well-thought-out response.

Well-thought-out responses he provided, until he reached a petition that involved a few dreams whose specialty is soulmates. This, naturally, caused him to start thinking about you, and suddenly he had lost an hour to thinking about your soft smile and the way that you had looked at him without an ounce of fear—so unlike every other mortal in the pub, who avoided even looking at him lest they flinch at the sight of somebody so obviously Other than they.

That he could be so easily thrown off the tasks he had been working on at the mere mention of something relating to you was mildly distressing, and he decided that putting space between himself and these thoughts was the best course of action. There were plenty of half-finished creations on the Shores for him to continue crafting, after all. With the return of his tools, of his power, of his realm, so too had his creativity returned. He seemed to find inspiration at every corner these days, taking to keeping a small notebook within his pockets to write down ideas as they came to him.

For a time, he was successful at working on his creations. The physical act of creation, of shaping and tweaking and crafting until it was to his liking, was a deterrent against any unwanted thoughts. As he sent one of the new dreams off to explore and learn, he looked through the portal and saw doors leading to other dreams.

It would be all too easy to find one door in particular, a part of his mind suggested. It is, after all, early in the morning in that part of the Waking. Most everybody is asleep, including…

He shook his head to clear the thoughts, but it was too late. He could already feel exactly where your sleeping mind was dreaming, though he knew not if the bond had enhanced his already-existing ability to find any dreamer at any time.

His mistake, he muses as he finally opens the door, was assuming that he could resume work normally. But nothing can be normal now, not when he’s discovered that he has a soulmate.

Morpheus finds himself in the back of a lecture hall, cloaked in shadows and invisible to all as he watches you attempt to teach a class. It’s quickly obvious to him that this particular dream is a result of stress—the walls quake ever so slightly with anxiety, threatening to gradually close in around you as you stumble through your words. Still, you persist with a nervous smile on your face, even as it becomes evident that this is a subject you are unfamiliar with.

Though there is a part of him that is tempted to change your dream to something kinder, he knows that to do so would be to go back on the promise he just made with himself. He could not let this bond, no matter how life-changing it may be, get in the way of performing his duties and responsibilities—chief among said duties and responsibilities, of course, is allowing dreamers to face whatever their minds are deeming important enough to dream about. To you, apparently, that is teaching even when you should be the one being taught.

Up front, your eyes cast over the assembled students, ostensibly to check for questions and engagement. It’s a well-practiced movement, and it should be a routine sweep, but something near Morpheus catches your attention. Your gaze freezes, and you tilt your head curiously.

“Hi,” you call out. “Are you lost?”

For a moment, Morpheus is unsure of who you are talking to. After all, it could not possibly be him—not when he knows that he’s still hidden. Yet, as he stares back at your intuitive eyes, which have once again captured him and made him your devoted acolyte with barely a glance, he knows that logic has no place in this new world he’s found himself in. Apparently, the powers that he has considered basic have no effect on you.

There is no time to ponder the soulmate bond and all that it may or may not affect, not when you tell the class that you will be right back and proceed to start moving to climb the steps towards him. Panic, novel sensation that it is, seizes him; he’s not ready to truly face you yet, to look at you and try to explain the gravity of the bond that has connected you when he does not fully understand such a bond either.

It’s both cowardly and shameful, but there is only one thing that he can think of doing to wrest some semblance of control over his life back from the Fates. Quickly, he raises a hand to end your dream, leaving him back on the Shores where he started.

He’s simultaneously exhilarated and terrified, the two creating a cocktail of compelling emotion that he could easily become addicted to. To be constantly reminded by forces more powerful than he that the soulmate bond is not a figment of his romance-starved imagination, yet faced with the potential implications of having a soulmate (a mortal soulmate, at that) when one is Endless, is perhaps more vexing than even the whole affair with the key to Hell. There is so much unknown about the situation, and he knows that he cannot yet act. 

No, first, Morpheus needs to research.

•••

There is nowhere in all of the realms that Morpheus feels more comfortable than in his own. The Dreaming is his, after all; his very essence is the lifeblood that sustains the dreams and nightmares and everything they inhabit. It is the ground that they walk upon, and the very air that they breathe. He has taken great care to ensure that every part of his realm is perfect, to his specifications. It is his home.

At least, that is what he tells himself as he sneaks (him, sneaking!) through the Library, lest somebody discover him and ask questions that he does not yet have the answers to.

It is far too optimistic to believe that Lucienne will be tied up in other tasks—his librarian is, above all, dedicated to her craft. Instead, his plan is to find as many books relating to the topic of soulmates as he can in as short a time as possible, then escape once more to his study so that he can read in peace. By no means is this plan a perfect one, but it does seem like it will be the easiest. The Library may contain every story, both written and not, but it is still his. How difficult can it be to find books?

The answer, he learns defeatedly, is very difficult. He has been wandering the shelves for what is sure to be the mortal equivalent of hours now, with only one tome to show for it. Every time he thought he had finally worked out how the library was organized, he would round a corner only to find that the genres were entirely different from what he had just been perusing. Nonfiction relationships became astronomy just as quickly as science turned to classic Russian literature. It’s mind-boggling, and Morpheus is stuck between attempting to determine which way to turn next or just giving up and taking his meager findings back to his study.

Lucienne, naturally, picks this moment to find him.

“Lord Morpheus,” she says, surprised at finding him, rather than him finding her, which is the usual order of things. “Are you looking for anything in particular today?”

“No, I am simply…doing some research.” He attempts to sound nonchalant, but can tell by the way that Lucienne pinches the bridge of her nose as she adjusts her glasses that he does not succeed.

“And as your librarian, I can help you procure books that might assist you in your research.”

Morpheus realizes that the cover of the book he is holding is facing outwards just as Lucienne gets the idea to look at what book he’s already found in order to help hone her upcoming search, and he hurriedly tries to turn it in his grasp before she can read it.

“A Beginner’s Guide to Soulmate Bonds?” The amused smirk on Lucienne’s face falls as she reads the title aloud, and she turns her gaze back to Morpheus in confusion.

Coincidentally, Morpheus finds the ceiling of the library to be quite interesting.

The cavernous room goes silent, Lucienne attempting to make sense of the situation as Morpheus weighs the merits of disappearing in a puff of sand.

“Is this…personal…research?” she asks finally, knowing that she must tread delicately.

For a moment, Morpheus is tempted to lie. To do so would be beyond childish, however, and he knows that Lucienne would see right through him and thus think him especially so. Reluctantly, he looks at her once more. “Yes.”

“When?”

“Two days ago, when I was in the Waking,” he admits.

Lucienne hums, nodding. “That would explain the sudden change of weather, then.”

Despite the embarrassing situation he’s found himself in, Morpheus cannot help but smile ever so slightly as Lucienne demonstrates once again that she knows her lord better than almost anybody else. Of course, Lucienne would know that nothing so simple as a visit to an old friend could yield the picturesque climate that had replaced the torrential downpours and thunderstorms the Dreaming had briefly found itself engulfed in.

She glances down at a ledger in her hands that is quickly becoming covered in text. “I’ll admit that I’m not the most well-versed in soulmate bonds, but there are signs, yes? To confirm it as so?” Morpheus nods, and she continues. “You saw a sign?”

“A physical string of fate, connecting myself to my soulmate,” he confirms.

From within her coat, Lucienne produces a pen and makes a note on the ledger, muttering something unintelligible under her breath. “Well, if you’re looking for materials on soulmates, you’re in the completely wrong wing for it. Strings of Fate and Other Signs from the Universe, for instance, is near the entrance of the library.”

“Yes, it appears that I am not…as familiar with the shelving system as I thought.”

“Which brings us back to me asking if I might help you find a book,” she says patiently, humor glinting in her eyes. “Give me just a few minutes to pull some relevant texts.”

“I can help—” Morpheus begins, despite knowing that he would not be able to provide actual help.

Lucienne shakes her head. “That is not necessary.”

She’s already disappearing between the shelves when a thought has Morpheus calling out to her. “Lucienne?”

She pops out once more, waiting expectantly.

“Some books on recent courting rituals would likely help as well, I believe,” he requests sheepishly.

•••

As expected, Lucienne returns with a bevy of books—so many, in fact, that she has enlisted her new favorite helper, Nuala of Faerie, to help her carry them to the large table Morpheus has commandeered as his own.

“This stack—” Lucienne begins, punctuating it by setting down the books she’s been holding, “contains books that cover the basics of soulmates—the formation of a bond, theories on how they come to be, what to expect when a bond has formed, and so on.”

She looks to Nuala expectantly, the faerie setting her own books down far more gingerly than Lucienne, as though she believes that she will be scolded for not having the lightest of touches.

“And these cover courting and romance in the modern age.” Lucienne pulls out a chair and takes a seat opposite Morpheus, Nuala hesitantly sitting next to her. “Shall we begin?”

“What are you doing?” Morpheus asks as Lucienne pulls a book off the stacks.

“Helping you, of course.”

“I did not expect you to be so open to the idea of my having a soulmate, Lucienne,” he cannot help but tease, knowing she feels the exact opposite.

“Do not mistake my interest in a research topic to be an interest in your love life, my lord,” Lucienne retorts, though he can see the fondness in her eyes while she says it. “Are we looking for any particular topics or passages of information?”

It is obvious that she is not going to take no for an answer, and Morpheus decides that he might as well use the extra sets of hands. “A general overview of what a soulmate bond entails, as well as specifics as to how a bond affects each side. And…bonds forged between beings and mortals.”

Lucienne and Nuala look at each other in alarm, the latter asking a question before her fear can catch up to her. “Is—”

“My soulmate is a mortal,” Morpheus confirms.

Lucienne grimaces. “Oh dear.”

“Death and I visited Destiny, who told us that previous assumptions were incorrect. No cosmic harm will come to anybody by pursuing this bond.”

It is obvious that the sentence is unfinished. “But?”

“But mortals do not know about soulmates, which is why I am here.”

“My, we do have our work cut out for us, don’t we?”

She flips the cover of her book open, Morpheus and Nuala each grabbing a book of their own and doing the same after a moment.

The pile of books diminishes far faster when there are three sets of eyes doing the reading. The library remains quiet, save for the flipping of pages and the infrequent interjections of the three patrons as each comes across a bit of information relevant to Morpheus’s situation in their journeys through pages.

Unfortunately, much of it is what he already knows: theoretical. Soulmates have existed for as long as there have been beings to seek companionship and love one another, which means that the phenomenon has been studied for just as long. Still, there is no one definitive answer as to how a bond forms, nor is there anything that could be seen as ‘standard.’ Every culture, every pantheon, every realm has its own mythos behind soulmates. Soulmate bonds are unique to every pair, and remain a mystery, even with modern science and its many wonders.

Morpheus is starting to resign himself to having to learn more about a soulmate bond by actually interacting with his soulmate, but Lucienne, still steadfast in the belief that there must be some sort of concrete answer hidden amongst the pages filling the library, has disappeared down the stacks once more in the hopes of finding a book relevant to them. In the meantime, Nuala continues to dutifully read through each book. 

“‘Soulmate bonds can be physical just as much as they are emotional,’” Nuala reads from the aforementioned Strings of Fate, “‘with bonded pairs being known to exhibit symptoms such as longing, an increase of thoughts about the being on the other end of the bond, and a need for proximity that rises the longer a pair goes without seeing each other. In rare cases of a creature bonding with a mortal, such symptoms may be heightened.’”

These have been the rare glimmers of information that may actually be uniform, but they are still frustratingly vague.

“Yet another case of something that may or may not happen, I’m afraid,” Nuala says, looking at him apologetically as though it is her fault that there has been little progress.

Morpheus sighs. “I fear that lived experiences are all that lies in these books.”

“‘Tis frustrating to be getting nowhere,” she agrees.

“What does Faerie believe of soulmates, Lady Nuala?” Though she was no longer a member of the Court of Faerie, Morpheus still affords her the title that she deserves, had her queen not forced her into exile.

Nuala smiles. “It’s one of the most sacred bonds across all the realms, of course. Every pantheon and plane of existence recognizes and reveres the soulmate bond, every being hoping that one day they’ll find their own. Humans have made deals with a great many fae in the hopes that they’ll be granted their soulmate. That’s not in our power to do, of course; only fate decides how, when, and if a soulmate is found.

“We’re frequently characterized as tricksters—tales say that we purposely obfuscate our speech to capture humans, or that we lure them back to Faerie so that we can have our way with them for what seems like the blink of an eye, as hundreds of years pass in the Waking. For some, that’s true, but they are the minority. Fae revere the soulmate bond. We crave a love that can withstand all of the betrayal, gossip, and deceit of the Court. A love that cannot be ended on the whims of those more powerful than us, who seek only to have a drama or a tragedy play out in front of them for their merriment.”

“You speak as though from experience,” Morpheus notes.

She dips her head just slightly, the most that she’s willing to acknowledge the topic, whether on behalf of herself or somebody that she cares for. “I think it’s jealousy, if I may be frank. Not even Titania and Oberon have a soulmate bond, though you already knew this.”

“I did?” He did not realize that he did.

“For Fae, at least, a bond would make a party terribly ill if they tried to seek romantic affection from another party.” She trails off, cheeks turning pink as she hints at the…fling that Morpheus and Titania partook in centuries ago. 

The brief affair was no secret—not even to Oberon, though he cared not what, or whom, his wife was doing when he had paramours of his own—but after an end so disastrous that Titania closed off Faerie’s border to the Dreaming for a time, nearly nobody was bold enough to actually speak of it.

Matthew lands on the table by Morpheus’s elbow, interrupting what was sure to turn into an awkward conversation.

“So! Soulmates are real, huh?” he says. When he meets Morpheus’s inquiring gaze, he hops backward just slightly. “Uh, Lucienne let it slip. Said you might need a human’s perspective. Well, former human, but still.”

Mere days ago, Morpheus would have shrugged off all of the help that he is currently receiving, but especially the suggestion of a human perspective on any issues in his life. Now? Morpheus will take all of the help that he can get on matters in which he finds himself hopelessly unversed.

“I have never made it a point to fraternize with mortals; indeed, if anything, I made it a point to distance myself from them. And now, I must attempt to…romance one,” he admits.

“Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of Casanova?” Matthew asks. The apparent reference goes over Morpheus’s head, but Lucienne, who has returned with hands devoid of any new books, bites her lip to hold back a smirk. “I heard all of the, uh, talk from your many guests when they were supposed to be vying for the key to Hell.”

Naturally, the many pantheons and realms had taken the opportunity of being guests of the Dreaming to gossip about its Lord. “It has been some time since I partook in a…dalliance with another. Even longer since an actual relationship.”

“Well, what was it like the last time you courted somebody, then?” Lucienne prompts.

Morpheus thinks back to those halcyon days of his early relationship with Calliope, when, for the first time, somebody did not see him as Endless. No, back then, he was simply a man—or, as close as one of his kind could get to being a man—attempting to woo a woman.

“To court a goddess is no small feat,” he begins. “It is a carefully choreographed dance, a chess match between two grandmasters. You are…declaring yourself a worthy suitor, and showcasing your strengths as a partner. Gifts, elaborate declarations of love, heroic deeds in her name. All of these could be given, and still, it was up to the one being courted to decide if these were enough.”

Even now, so long after their marriage ended acrimoniously (though he was glad that their last meeting ended with the promise of finally talking things through), he still holds the glint in Calliope’s dark eyes and the quirk of her full lips as she finally deemed him a worthy future husband among his cherished memories. He earned the right to love her; with his wit, with his power, with his show of all that he could offer to her if only she were to take his hand in marriage. It was just as satisfying a win as when he battled the Old Gods out of his realm, crafting the skeleton of one into his helm.

He can only hope to one day see such a reaction from you.

“Oh, mortals don’t expect any of that!” Matthew remarks cheerfully. “This’ll be easy, then.”

“How would you suggest I approach first courting my soulmate?” Morpheus asks dubiously.

His three denizens ponder this.

“Flowers?” Nuala suggests first. “Humans like flowers, though not as much as Fae, of course. When we court, we usually present beautiful bouquets of flowers every day, each species of flower saying something that our words do not. Yarrow for everlasting love, red tulips for passion, yellow jasmine to speak of the receiver’s grace and elegance.”

Lucienne is next. “The old ways of courting are still seen as rather romantic and chivalrous—many contemporary novels set in a historical time period write about this favorably. Perhaps that would impress your soulmate?”

“Wait, wait, wait, let’s take a few steps back here before we jump straight into grandiose gestures,” Matthew says hurriedly. “Have you actually, oh, I don’t know…talked to each other?”

“We did not…have the opportunity,” Morpheus responds. 

Matthew sighs heavily, his beak clacking in disappointment. “Well, I think you should start there. The other stuff—flowers and declarations of love—is going to be very freaky without it.”

Morpheus stares at his emissary blankly. “You believe that we should…talk.”

“Y’know. ‘Hi,’ ‘how’s it going,’ ‘my name is.’ The basics!”

“It is a good idea, Matthew, but it would involve Lord Morpheus somehow coming across his soulmate in the Waking and having to make it look natural,” Lucienne says, leaving off the part where Morpheus would assuredly fail at making anything ‘look natural.’

Matthew has an answer almost immediately. “It doesn’t have to be some big affair! It could be like a romcom, where you two just ‘happen’ to bump into each other! Not–not that I like them, of course. I’m just familiar with them.”

“A ‘romcom’?” Nuala asks.

Matthew looks aggrieved. “Romantic comedy. It’s a genre of books and movies that a lot of people like, but that’s not the point!” He turns his attention to Morpheus once more. “You don’t need to immediately go up to your soulmate and say, ‘hi, we’re meant to be together, please love me.’ Just talk. Get to know each other a bit. I obviously have no clue how it was in other times and realms, but on modern-day Earth, that’s how you establish a solid foundation to a relationship.”

The idea is not a bad one by any means; starting by simply getting to know one another sounds better to Morpheus, too, for whom soulmates and modern mortals are completely foreign. Still, he is not typically in the Waking, which means that he will now have to make up excuses to find himself there—the difficult part of all of this.

“The plan is acceptable,” Morpheus says, surprising both Matthew and Lucienne. “The next time that I find myself in the Waking, I shall make it a point to…say ‘hi’ to my soulmate.”

“Great!” Matthew cheers. “You’ve got this, boss. I have faith in you.”

•••

What Lord Morpheus does not know will not hurt him, Lucienne thinks to herself later as she, Matthew, and Nuala make bets on when the Dreamlord will finally give in and go to the Waking. Nuala, who knows the least about their Lord by virtue of her being new to his service, bets a month. Matthew believes that he shall make it six weeks before finally giving in. Lucienne, having been around for almost all of his doomed relationships, gives it two weeks.

•••

It is fifteen agonizing days before Morpheus can bear being separated from his soulmate no longer.

The books had warned of this, of course. That beings and creatures who bonded with a mortal often found themselves more affected by the physical symptoms of a soulmate bond than, say, a minor goddess who found her soulmate to be a nymph, or a god and a goddess from different pantheons. There was no concrete answer as to why, of course, but the running theory seemed to be that mortals did not have the heightened senses and general knowledge of a bond to be able to feel the effects of a bond and participate in the traditional bonding experience. Thus, the feelings of affection were reflected back onto the being.

Still, Morpheus had not expected to feel this way. He is Endless, after all—so much more than all other species. 

But with every passing day, he can practically feel the bond continue to deepen and establish itself as something not to be ignored. It’s still just as frightening and exhilarating as when you saw him in your dream, the prospect of love outweighing the fears of rejection.

Morpheus descends the stairs to the entry hall of his castle, Lucienne trailing behind him as he dictates his plans to her.

“I will be in the Waking for a short time to leave a book with Hob Gadling,” he says, holding up said book. “In the meantime, I leave the realm in your capable hands.”

His immortal friend had long been on the hunt for one of the copies of Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales that he printed while apprenticing for William Caxton and his printing press in the hopes that he could show off a first edition to one of his classes (without making mention of whose hands actually crafted it), and mentioned to Morpheus that if he came across one, he would greatly appreciate it. 

It was fairly easy to locate when one knew which avenues to take—the angel that owns A.Z. Fell and Co. has varied tastes and has been on Earth longer than almost any living being, giving him plenty of time to source books with all of the dedication and impeccable taste of a seasoned wine connoisseur. Matthew had visited him yesterday on the Dreamlord’s behalf, first to inquire if such a book was in Aziraphale’s possession, and to acquire it if so. The asking price was fair for such a piece (Morpheus’s offer of one of Christopher Marlowe’s later drafts of Tamburlaine, complete with the playwright’s notes still on the parchment, Matthew told him, was eagerly accepted), and the raven returned with the requested book in tow without issue.

Now, there was only one thing left to do.

“Is that the only reason?” Lucienne presses.

“Yes,” Morpheus replies a tad too hastily. “It will be a quick errand.”

If rolling her eyes were not improper, Morpheus has a hunch that Lucienne’s would have made a full rotation. “Mhm. And if you just happen to bump into a certain someone?” 

“A coincidence,” he assures.

“Of course.” She tries to look unimpressed, but cannot help but smile. “Good luck with your errand, then.”

Morpheus nods and reaches into his robes to produce a small pouch, from which he produces a handful of translucent grains. With a flick of sand, he’s off to the Waking.

•••

If Morpheus were to be honest, he’s not sure that he wants to see you. 

That’s technically a lie. He wants to see you, of course. But perhaps from a distance, where you do not know that he is near, rather than face-to-face. He has not yet figured out what to say—if he tells you the truth of who he is and what the universe has decided for both of you, or if he should choose to act as though he is not Endless, lying to you in the process. The fear of rejection also still lingers closely behind him like a specter. Mortals often find themselves immediately unnerved by his (and his siblings’) otherness, making it a point to interact as little as possible. What if that extends to you as well? You did not fear him when you were merely looking at him, but what if an actual conversation proves to be too much?

As he attempts to maneuver through the university’s campus, though, he is starting to believe that he may not see you at all. He intended to meet Hob at his office and leave the book there—Hob did, after all, say that he was welcome to ‘drop by’ at any time. But when he arrives near Hob’s location and finds himself standing in a hallway outside of a door, he takes a peek through the glass to see his friend standing at the front of a classroom and lecturing animatedly—decidedly not the time for an old friend to appear. He shall just have to find Hob’s office the mortal way, then.

As it turns out, this is easier said than done. The university’s campus is fairly large, and the stately buildings make no indication as to the rooms that lie inside. He finds a large map in the middle of an alcove, but it means nothing to him when he does not know which building Hob’s office is in. Still, he holds some hope that, by staring at it long enough, he might divine the answer. Anything rather than admitting to the reality, which is that he is hopelessly lost.

A figure approaches from his left, and he tries not to immediately resort to escaping back to the Dreaming at the prospect of interaction with a human. “Hi! You’re Rob’s friend, right?”

The voice is recognizable right away—how could he ever forget the sound? But when Morpheus turns his head to see you standing right next to him, after so long spent thinking about you and imagining how a potential interaction with you would go, he uncharacteristically forgets how to speak for a moment and can only nod in response.

Your friendly smile falters just slightly, and Morpheus realizes that his outward reaction was probably not an ideal first impression. “Are you…looking for him?”

“I am hoping to leave a book with him, but am unsure of his current whereabouts,” he says, finally managing to produce words.

You glance down at your watch. “Rob’s still teaching a class, but should be done in about twenty minutes.” 

Twenty minutes is not that long—his sister was right when she said that the Endless have all the time in the world—but there is still the matter of locating Hob Gadling’s office, which he is no closer to finding than he was when he first stepped into the Waking.

“I’m actually on my way to his office to drop off a couple of things,” you say, seemingly sensing his helplessness. “I could take you there? If you don’t know the way?”

Opportunity has presented itself, and he would be a fool to turn it away. “That would be much appreciated.” 

“Great! This way, then.” You turn back towards your original path, Morpheus falling in step beside you.

 It is almost surreal to be so close to you after imagining and longing for such a situation for two weeks. The research he conducted did not lie about how blissful it would feel to simply bask in your presence, and he knows that he would happily follow you to the ends of the earth if only you allowed him to follow this close. When he gets greedy and tries to peek at you, he finds you looking right back at him.

You’re shy as you first introduce yourself, unsure of how to act around this stranger—though he knows that his general disposition is not doing him any favors in this matter. When he asks you a question about your studies, though, he can see that he has discovered one of the keys to your heart. You light up almost immediately, giving him a basic overview of your thesis before he asks yet another question, and you realize that he is truly interested in learning more about this.

He watches, enraptured, as you speak more confidently, hands gesticulating as you periodically glance at him with shining eyes to ensure that you are making sense, that his interest has not waned. How could it, though? He would listen to you talk about the most banal of subjects—the weather, perhaps, or human economics—simply so that he could hear your voice.

But no, he is fortunate enough to get to listen as you talk about something that you are deeply passionate about. To get a glimpse into how your brilliant mind works is a treat. To learn that stories held your interest, to the point that you had dedicated your studies to it? That was proof of divine intervention, proof that your impending romance was written in the stars.

When you realize that you have found yourself in front of Hob’s office, you cut yourself off from talking about your thesis.

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling.” It is clear that you are embarrassed, focusing on finding a set of keys so that you can unlock the door in an attempt to rid yourself of the feeling. “I just get excited to talk about this subject.”

“You need not apologize.” Truly, he hopes that you never again feel embarrassed to talk about anything in his presence, especially something that you care about. “I asked you a question, and I was happy to learn from you. You are, after all, attempting to become an expert in this subject, correct?”

You let out a small, halfhearted laugh, obviously not believing him. “Yeah, I suppose.”

The door to the office is unlocked, and you make your way towards what is presumably Hob’s desk while Morpheus takes the opportunity to look around. Hob has opened his home to Morpheus a few times, and he is pleased to see that the immortal man’s office is decorated much the same; his personal collection, lovingly displayed for himself and others to admire. He smiles slightly at the daguerreotype on the wall, discerning eyes able to pick up his friend’s face amidst the other soldiers.

“Have you ever been in here before?” you ask.

Morpheus turns to look at you. “No. Robert was, perhaps, overconfident in my abilities to navigate the university to find his office when he told me I could simply leave the book here.”

A breath of laughter leaves you. “Glad I was around to rescue you, then, so you could explore a bit. I love his office, it’s like a museum.”

“His home is much the same; a testament to life, created by a man grateful for every minute of his own.”

You consider the statement, a smile forming as you do. “That’s such an accurate description of him.” 

Something catches your attention, and you produce a cellular device from your pocket to look at its surface.

“I have to get going. My class is on the other side of campus, and if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late,” you explain. 

Morpheus finds himself thrilled at the regret on your face, neither of you wanting this interaction to end.

“Far be it from me to stand in the way of anybody’s pursuit of knowledge,” he says.

“Are you going to wait for Rob in here, or do you need me to walk you out?” you ask.

For a moment, he considers leaving with you, but he would like to see Hob’s face when he sees what Morpheus has brought him. “I shall wait.”

“Okay! I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

You rock backwards on your heels, unsure of whether you should say something else before you leave, or if Morpheus is going to say anything in return. His lips cannot help but quirk up at the very human action, made all the more endearing by the fact that you are the human doing so, and your eyes widen in surprise at the sight.

“Bye,” you squeak, turning on your heel and quickly exiting the office. Morpheus can hear your shoes pounding against the floors as, it seems, you run out of the building.

He stares fondly at the space you just occupied before migrating to the window in the hopes that he might catch a glimpse of you. It is not a long wait, and when you do appear, you lean against the wall and bury your head in your hands.

Your abashment, it seems, has only increased, though he knows not why. How could you feel such a way after a conversation that has only served to make him more infatuated with you? He wishes that there had been more time for him to assure you that nothing you had said or done—indeed, nothing you could ever say or do—would lower your status in his eyes. Instead, he watches as a mortal woman appears and begins to comfort you.

Movement sounds from behind him, and Morpheus reluctantly draws his eyes away from you and to the sight of Hob Gadling smiling at him.

“My friend!” Hob greets warmly. “What a welcome surprise it is to see you! What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“I found the book that you have been searching for,” Morpheus says, producing the copy of Canterbury Tales from his coat.

Hob’s face lights up as Morpheus holds out the tome, and he takes it gently in his own hands.

“Well, look at that!” He carefully flips the book open—although, thanks to good care and preservation by the previous owner, the book does not show nearly how old it is—and angles it so that Morpheus can see the small design near the bottom of the title page—a simple H and G, with a sword piercing through both letters. “My printer’s mark. I was so thrilled when Billy Caxton told me I got to make one of my very own. It was the first time in my life that I created something, after so long spent being a soldier and a mercenary.”

Hob is silent for a few moments, nostalgia washing over him as he thinks of a life long past. Morpheus tries his best to stay out of his friend’s fond daydreams, focusing instead on the papers you have left on the desk—a copy of an answer key for a test, and what looks to be your aforementioned thesis.

“Thank you for this,” Hob says finally, sincerely. “Truly. You didn’t have to go through the trouble of searching for this on my behalf.”

“It was not nearly the chore you are imagining it to be,” Morpheus assures.

“Still. I owe you one.”

Morpheus smirks. “I am not of the fair folk, Hob. I do not deal in debts.”

“Of course not, though I did once think you one.” This is not a surprise; Hob told him months ago of all the manners of creatures he believed his mysterious stranger to be at one point or another. Vampire, Fae, angel, demon, witch. None of which comes close to capturing all that Morpheus is. “You did me a huge favor, though, and as your friend, I would like to repay it at some point.”

Hob reverently traces his printer’s mark once more before closing the book to place it on his desk and looking at Morpheus once more.

“Not that I’m not thrilled you’re here, but how did you get in?” Hob asks. “I may be getting up there in years, but I know I didn’t leave my door unlocked.”

“Your graduate student granted me entrance,” Morpheus says truthfully.

“Ah, I should’ve known,” Hob responds, very familiar with your kind and helpful nature. 

Much the same as you did minutes ago, Hob’s own cellular device buzzes in his hand, and he curses under his breath.

“I wish I could stay to chat, but I have another class. Can I walk you out?”

Morpheus nods his assent, following his friend out of the office and waiting for him to dutifully lock the door before the two traverse down the hallway and towards the exit of the building.

When they reach sunlight once more, Hob attempts again to repay the favor that Morpheus has done for him. “Are you sure there’s nothing that I can do for you in return?”

Morpheus is about to turn him down once more when he realizes that there is something that Hob could do for him, though guilt envelops him as the idea percolates in his head. He would not be using his friend if he were to ask for what he is thinking about. After all, he does enjoy seeing him more often than once a century. Still, it feels slightly…dishonest to lead Hob to believe that there is no ulterior motive to what he will ask.

“I would see you, if you are amenable. Thursday next, perhaps? At…our usual spot?” Morpheus proposes, attempting to sound casual and as though he does not remember that you and your fellow graduate students meet at the New Inn every Thursday.

Hob lights up. “I would most definitely be amenable. Thursday next, then! I look forward to it.”

“I do, as well. Farewell, Hob.”

“Bye, Morpheus.” Hob waves, then turns to head for a different building.

Morpheus turns as well, to find a quiet place where he can return to the Dreaming and count down the days until he can see you once more.

•••

Tags: @universallyrascaldreamercookie @lucidlonging @omg-hellgirl @darkened-writer @totallysocially @hopingtocleaemedschool @lucycarlisleswife @adrestlyd @imagineslendk @thegirloftheirdreams @ultimatreality @the-garbage-central @dilfsandtherapy @saltyluminaryvoid @naty-1001 @megscabinetofcurios @saturnssrings @deniixlovezelda @marsmallow433 @dreamingdream @thecraziestcrayon @tendersolstice @hiraethmae @kpopgirlbtssvt @last-but-not-the-least @darling-eos @deeplyenchantedsabotage @saturnhas82moons @the-ace-of-wrath @stilestotherescue @cinnagirlworld @readersdelirium @pinkpookiebear @chugjugg @pinkest-marshmallow @toucanpirate @takeaseat-andread

[ckret2]

Chapter 102 of human Bill Cipher being a very uncooperative guest-prisoner: Ford and Melody try to discuss her sleep paralysis demon, but instead they start nerding out over research projects. Bill refuses to help out of spite... for now.

####

Mabel waltzed into Bill's room and flopped down on his couch. "Heyyy Bill."

"Sup, kid? Breakfast?"

She lifted her head to glance over at his hot plate. "What's on the menu?"

Bill showed her the frying pan he'd swiped from the downstairs stove when no one was looking. "Ectoplasm omelet. I won a few tablespoons' worth in a poker game."

Mabel gave a dubious look at the egg swirled with glowing mold-blue light. "How's it taste?"

"Sour, with the consistency of snot. Kind of like leftover anxiety that's been unevenly microwaved back to life."

"Gag. Pass."

"You sure? It's good for you! It'll improve your psychic powers."

"My psychic powers are already good enough! I can look at people and just know who their soulmate is! Plus, what they'd look like as a cat."

"Fair enough! More for me." Bill dumped a handful of Lucky Leprechaun cereal and some nacho cheese into the omelet. Man, it was a relief to finally be able to cook properly.

Mabel sat atop the back of the couch and started kicking her heels against the cushion. "Sooo... I heard a rumor that Melody's been having some weird dreams, and that you might know something about them," she said, quite casually. "That sounds interesting? What's the dealio with that?"

Bill fought back a grin. No subtlety at all. "Who put you up to this."

She didn't even hesitate before caving. "Grunkle Ford asked me because Soos and Melody asked him," she said sheepishly.

"Is this because you're the only person in the house I tell things to?"

####

Five minutes ago

"Mabel," Ford said, "could I ask you to ask Bill something?"

"I guess? But why can't you ask him?"

"Because you're the only person in the house he tells things to."

####

Mabel nodded. "Yup."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Kiiinda weeeird," she said, tilting her head as she examined the feeling. "Not quite used, but sort of like the peasant hired to carry messages between two castles that keep almost going to war?"

"And that's a terrible position to be in," Bill said, giving her shoulder a sympathetic pat. He badly folded his omelet, slid it on a paper plate, and hopped up to sit on the back of the couch with Mabel. "And if I give you the dirt they're digging for, they'll know this little trick works and they'll keep trying to use you in the future. So, as a favor to you, because I like you so much, I'm not telling you a thing."

"Gee, thanks."

Bill ruffled her hair. "You're so welcome!"

Of course, this meant he couldn't vent about the issue to Mabel. But hey, he didn't need to talk to her about everything, right?

This wasn't a problem for humans, anyway. This was nightmare business.

####

Ford opened the book on medieval demonology he'd just happened to have lying around in his study, and set it on the kitchen table to flip through it. "I know a bit about 'sleep paralysis demons,' as they're colloquially called in modern days; but I've never looked deeply into them. People have variously claimed they're just dreams you see as you're waking, ghosts, or even actual demons. I've seen a theory that sleep paralysis and its demons are naturally-occurring dreams, but sometimes malevolent spirits can invade and hijack these periods to torment the half-asleep—ah, here we are."

He stopped on a page that showed a woodcut print of an implike monster sitting on a sleeping woman's chest. "The nightmare, or Nachtmahr if you prefer. Which—I do, but only because I studied Folk German, it doesn't really make a difference." He cleared his throat. "I think you'll find medieval beliefs about the Nachtmahr and incubi resemble the creature you've been dealing with."

Melody leaned over to study the picture. "And I guess we're pretty sure they're real now, huh?"

"I'm afraid so," Ford said with a rueful shrug. "If Bill can see them."

Earlier that morning, when Melody had first told Ford about her nightmares, they'd wondered whether it was possible Bill was causing them. Ford thought it should be well within the scope of Bill's dream manipulation powers; he could do it, no question.

But they'd ruled it out as unlikely. Melody had been having these nightmares all her life, and they'd run in her family (or, they'd stalked her family?) for as far back as anyone could recall, and Ford couldn't think of any way that torturing one random family for generations could advance Bill's objectives. According to Ford, Bill may have been a vindictive bully to anyone he thought had crossed him; and he may apathetically let strangers get swept up in his anarchic carnage; but—one of his few saving graces—he didn't tend to target random people for bullying for no reason. 

Plus, Melody's nightmares hadn't started featuring "Bill" (or something impersonating him) until after Weirdmageddon and Bill's brief death—the one time he was least likely to be involved.

And the most damning evidence against Bill being involved was the fact that he was incensed that this thing was impersonating him.

"But if it were a demon that affects dreams," Ford flipped a few pages forward, "then the unicorn hair barrier around the shack should have kept it out. It blocks beings that exist in the mindscape—ghosts, demons, energy beings, astral-projected souls, and so on—while letting anything in the physical world pass through. It's possible that the legends are wrong, but—if the barrier managed to block Bill in his true form, it should certainly block a sleep paralysis demon."

"So, what does it mean if I'm having these dreams even with the unicorn hair barrier?"

"There's three possibilities. One: it really was just a dream—although that doesn't explain how Bill saw it without entering your mind. Two: I don't know enough about how unicorn hair works. But I think that's unlikely." Ford sighed, "Or, three: something happened to the unicorn hair barrier. Which I think is the most likely possibility. A ghost got into the house the night before last, which is just more proof that something's wrong with the barrier. I meant to go inspect it yesterday, but then I got caught up with Wyoming, and we had to see a movie... I'll get to it today."

Melody nodded, but hesitated at the claim Ford had to see a movie. "How did that work out, anyway? Did you get Bill to admit he's wrong?"

Ford hesitated before nodding. "He admitted he's wrong about something," he said unconvincingly, and cleared his throat. "But that's not important."

Melody's gaze caught on an image on the page Ford had flipped to. She leaned forward to study it. Speaking of the devil— "Oh—I've seen this before." The book displayed a black-and-white picture of a medieval tapestry depicting Bill Cipher sitting on the back of a fenced-in unicorn and wielding a sword.

"The tapestry?" Ford said, surprised. "Really, you're sure? It's not very well-known. Most people are more familiar with the other tapestries in the series—"

"The Hunt of the Unicorn, yeah," Melody cut in—and then, because she knew he was a Smart Guy who Knew Stuff, felt compelled to prove she knew what she was talking about: "Created around 1500, lost during the French Revolution, rediscovered in... I wanna say around the 1850s? Except this one." She tapped on the picture of Bill's eye. "The Bastard Triangle Cuts the Unicorn's Hair. It was found buried on the same property during World War 2—years after the rest of the series was sold to Rockefeller, which is why it's so much more obscure."

Ford blinked at her in amazement. "I—yes, that's it, but—how...?"

She couldn't help laughing. "I learned about the tapestry while I was starting research for my senior thesis project. I was majoring in folklore and mythology. And the Bastard Triangle came up in a course on late medieval fairy tales—as in like, tales about actual fairies." The Bastard Triangle stories they'd read in class were about a bizarre fairy king—only visible by his eye framed in a triangle of gold—who struck deals with evil wizards, led knights astray, tried to trick people into constructing fairy circles to his fae realm, and cursed humans with nightmares. Aside from the fairy king's unusual physical description, she hadn't thought the tales were anything that would've been too out of place in A Midsummer Night's Dream.

"The Bastard Triangle is a relatively obscure folk figure in this day," Ford mused. "I hadn't heard of him until I specifically started searching for tales of evil triangles in the wake of Bill's betrayal."

"Oh?" From the possibly hyperbolic things she'd heard about Ford from Soos, Melody took it that it was supposed to be impressive that she knew about a folktale Ford hadn't. "I just got lucky, I guess."

"I should say. Then—you must have actually recognized Bill during Weirdmageddon? I don't think I heard that." He smiled wanly. "Of course, I was probably more occupied with Stan's well-being at the time..."

"Yeah, it was a few weeks before we were properly introduced, wasn't it? And I don't even know if I mentioned it to anyone at the time." She'd made the mistake of coming to town to see Soos for the weekend, just in time for the invasion; and after the town was unpetrified, she'd been more preoccupied with finding her aunt than her boyfriend. It was almost midnight before she managed to get a call through to Soos, and he didn't blame her at all for already being halfway back to Portland with her aunt in tow.

"And I kinda found out the Bastard Triangle was real at the same time I learned gnomes, minotaurs, fairies, and living T-rexes were real. Honestly, he ranked somewhere under the T-rex." Discovering the Bastard Triangle had been behind everything had been kind of like being told the Big Bad Wolf had tried to take over the world. Weird, but once you got over the gnomes, it might as well happen.

"Really?" Ford chuckled. "I think I would have been far more stricken to see the subject of one of my thesis projects in the flesh, particularly if I thought he was a legend."

"Oh—no, he wasn't my actual research topic. I was writing about medieval unicorn folklore."

"Ahhh."

"Yeah. He honestly didn't really interest me before then? Fairies weren't my thing. But until I saw that tapestry, I'd never heard about a connection between England's Bastard Triangle superstitions and unicorns—which is weird, if there was enough of a connection for an English superstition to get featured on a tapestry made in France, right?" She was surprised at how quickly she was getting excited about the topic again. She'd been utterly miserable when she left school; it was somewhat of a relief to realize that that hadn't spoiled the topic entirely for her. "So, I thought I'd dig deeper into the Bastard Triangle myths to see if there was any more connection to unicorns beyond the tapestry."

"What did you find?"

"Nothing. I never got a chance to look." Melody shrugged ruefully. "That was about the time the stress of college caught up to me, and..." She trailed off self-consciously. She had no trouble admitting to having burned out and dropped out at the end of her junior year when she was talking to other people her age, all of whom either hadn't gone to college or had freshly struggled through it themselves; it was a bit more embarrassing to admit it to a man almost her grandparents' age with 12 Ph.D.s.

But Ford nodded sympathetically. "Soos mentioned that you were taking a sabbatical from your studies for your health." (That was more tactful than she'd come expect out of either of the Stan twins. She appreciated that.) "It's wise of you to prioritize your well-being. I wonder sometimes if I would have been better off slowing down, too. I was so driven to achieve as much as I could as fast as possible, that I fear it may have made me more susceptible to... research shortcuts offered with sinister intents." He glanced toward the ceiling. Bill's voice was impossible to hear this far from the attic, but every once in a while Mabel let out a laugh or indignant squeal that carried down the stairs in response to something he must have said.

"Honestly, I think if the mythological Bastard Triangle had come to me in my dreams to offer research assistance, I would have quit school even faster."

Ford muttered, "Maybe I should have taken a course on late medieval fairy tales."

"Honestly, yeah, it might've been helpful. The stories went super hard on the 'don't make a deal with the Bastard Triangle' message." The tales had said he came to wizards and scholars in their sleep to offers in exchange for services; but if you take his bargains, you'll either get spirited away to a fae realm or driven to madness by demons, unless you have a plan to outsmart him. And sometimes even when you do. She remembered wondering what the tales were supposed to be a metaphor for—a mythical explanation for the onset of schizophrenia or psychosis? A slightly altered Christian parable about resisting temptation from the devil? A "stranger danger" story for kids? It hadn't occurred to Melody that maybe the warnings were literal.

"I think I'd still like to finish my thesis someday." Melody studied the picture in the book. "Once Soos and I are settled, we've talked about maybe spending a couple semesters with my parents during the shack's off-season so I can reach the university."

"I'm sure you've heard about the unicorns living near Gravity Falls?" Ford asked. "Have you thought about interviewing them for your thesis?"

Melody grimaced uncertainly. "Do you think that's a good idea? Wendy told me all about what jerks they are."

"Ehhh..." Ford made a wiggly hand gesture. "I don't know if I'd recommend it—humans aren't exactly on diplomatic terms with the local unicorns. But, if you want to give it a shot anyway and you need a map to their glade..."

For a split second, Melody let herself get lost in a childish fantasy of stepping into a sun-dappled, flowering forest clearing and being approached by a half dozen graceful, gleaming white unicorns, who welcomed her as graciously as though she were a princess; but then she shook her head to dispel the thought. "Nah, I kinda wanna keep the mental image I have of unicorns from the stories. Never meet your heroes."

Ford nodded. "That's probably wise. They really are huge jerks. And rude, and cliquish, and hostile to outsiders. Especially researchers," he said. "When I asked them for a sample of their hair and they told me to leave because I wasn't pure of heart, I asked them by what criteria they judged cardiac purity. They chased me out at hornpoint."

"Yeah, no, I don't think they'd be excited about helping out with my thesis."

"At the least, I could dig out some of my field notes for you, if you'd like," Ford said. "I lost most of it when I threw out my old journals, but I know I've got some notes on information I couldn't fit in the journals. I don't know if any of it would be useful with your research topic—it's all field observations about living, modern unicorns, not historical myths and folktales..."

"No way to know until I read it, I guess," Melody said. "Either way, I'd love to see your notes, thanks." Even if it wasn't useful, she did still love unicorns. Reading about the real thing would be cool.

"Coincidentally, I'm... actually dipping my toes back into academia myself," Ford said. "This past year, Fiddleford and I started to work on a paper about my theory of weirdness. I'm actually going over to his place for the next few days to work on it. We hope we'll be ready to start reaching out to journals this fall."

"Oh yeah? That sounds awesome, good luck."

"I—yes, thank you—I certainly hope it will be 'awesome,'" he said, with the poorly-suppressed half-smile of someone who knew it was awesome but was attempting to practice this "humility" thing everyone thought he should have more of. "But, what I really wanted to say is—it's nice to find another young mind living in this house pursuing some of the same academic interests I had. Legends about the magical and supernatural, mythical beasts and cryptids." He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets self-consciously. "And, I—well, I'm not a professor, I can't offer to serve as a thesis advisor; but if there's any way I could help you with your paper—whether it's finding research materials or just serving as a sounding board for your ideas—my office door is open. And located a convenient elevator ride away."

Melody's brows shot up. Honestly, she'd never been sure what Ford thought of her.

Everyone else in Soos's family—both real and honorary—she had a good sense of. Abuelita glowed when she saw Melody with Soos or heard her talking about their future plans. She'd met Soos's cousin Reggie and his new wife at their wedding last year, and although she didn't have much in common with them, they'd enthusiastically forwarded her all their recent wedding planning research and recommendations on which services to hire. When she and Soos had announced their engagement, Stan had taken her aside to give her the shovel talk, and from then on treated her like she was already part of the family. Dipper and Mabel had hid from a homicidal lovesick video game with her, which is the kind of thing that bonds you for life.

But Ford, while always polite, had also always seemed... grim.

Granted, she supposed she'd never really gotten to know him outside of grim (mostly Bill-related) circumstances. The most casual setting she'd seen him in was Anime Night, which she'd retroactively realized had probably doubled as execution planning meetings for him and Fiddleford. But she and Ford had butted heads over how to handle Bill at the start of summer, and she'd sort of assumed he didn't like her much but was too polite to show it.

Maybe she'd been wrong. "Wow. Thank you, Dr. Pines, I'd love that."

"Please," he said, with a slight smile that was almost shy, "'Ford' is fine."

####

If the unicorn hair barrier was intact, then Melody's dreams had to be just dreams, or else Ford didn't know enough about unicorn hair barriers. But he was pretty sure those weren't just dreams; and if there was anything he was confident in, it was his own knowledge of the paranormal, mythical, and unnatural.

So he spent the afternoon with a pocketful of unicorn hair, a magnifying glass, and a bottle of glue, circling the perimeter of the Mystery Shack and inspecting every millimeter of the barrier.

He'd almost circled the entire house before he found it: a minuscule break in the barrier. One hair had snapped and peeled away from the wood just to the left of the back porch, leaving a couple of millimeters open in the barrier. Something must have knocked into the hair—no telling what, with all the abuse this shack took. It was possible it had been broken since the shack's conversion back from giant combat mech to house. Was that little break enough to deactivate the entire barrier?

Ford pressed the broken hair back into place, then took a new strand of unicorn hair and glued it across the break. The new hair momentarily glowed, and the glow stretched a few feet to either side of the new addition before fading back out. He'd obviously repaired this portion, but did that mean the barrier was working again? Or not, since the glow had only stretched a few feet? Maybe the whole thing only glowed the first time it was activated?

He should have gotten this problem solved yesterday, as soon as he got up—he knew the kids had been visited by a Category 9 ghost, that was reason enough to make the barrier top priority, even before he'd known about Melody's dream demon. But no, what had he spent yesterday doing? Playing chess! Going to a movie he hadn't even wanted to see! Arguing about whether Wyoming existed, of all things! A complete waste of a day!

And the worst part was he'd enjoyed it.

For the first time since Bill's return, Ford was beginning to fear that this recovering Cipherholic might be in real danger of relapsing. The tension had been there, and he and Bill hadn't agreed on anything all day except for the single stupidest thing imaginable—but yesterday had almost felt comfortable. Certainly far too comfortable for comfort.

It was a good thing he'd made plans to spend a couple days with Fiddleford. He needed to get out of the house and get Bill out of his head. 

He pocketed his glue and the remaining unicorn hair. Well, if these nightmares were a problem that unicorn hair could solve, then Ford had done what he could to stop them. He'd do what else he could to help prepare Melody before he left for the night.

####

A frustrated tourist tried for the fourth time to feed a dollar into the vending machine while his young son watched; and when it didn't accept it and his hungry son let out a whine, he scowled and muttered, "Why won't this darn thing work?"

The two tourists gasped in surprise as, with a hydraulic hiss and a mechanical whir, the vending machine swung away from the wall. They and Ford stared blankly at each other.

"Oh, right," Ford said. "Business hours."

"What's back there?" the boy asked, voice hushed with wonder.

Ford tried to summon up a lie, considered claiming it was the staff break room, remembered the "staff only" door was right next to him, and gave up. "Er—a secret lab."

The tourists oohed appreciatively. "Can I see?" the boy asked.

"No." After a moment's hesitation, he added, "It's staff only." Nailed it.

The father said, "Hey, while you're back there—the machine won't take my dollar, do you think you could...?"

"O-oh." Ford took the hook from the door. "Yes, of course. What did you want?"

Once he'd dealt with the tourists and shut the vending machine, he announced toward Melody, "There was a break in the unicorn hair barrier," heedless of all the other tourists in the gift shop. Which happened to be the exact kind of thing they all came to the Mystery Shack hoping to hear, so they tittered appreciatively. 

"Oh, yeah?" Melody stifled a yawn. The half night of sleep was catching up with her. She'd almost considered taking the day off to try to recover her strength, but she'd done that less than a week ago and didn't want to leave Soos short-staffed again.

"I've repaired it. Hopefully, that should be enough to keep your sleep paralysis demon out. I suppose we'll find out tonight." He offered her the book on demonology they'd been looking at earlier. "I realized we got completely sidetracked talking about unicorns and folklore instead of the Nachtmahr, so I thought you might want to read up on the subject yourself."

"Oh—yeah, thanks." She accepted the book. There were several yellowed notebook papers bookmarking the pages they'd been looking at earlier. She saw the word "Unicorns" at the top of one paper; Ford must have found his field notes, too.

There was also a large orange envelope on top of the book, with something hard inside it. "What's this?"

"Ah, that, well." Ford shrugged abashedly. "I thought, since you might not have a chance to meet a friendly unicorn yourself, you... might want a consolation prize?"

She opened the unsealed envelope, to find a golden horseshoe with glowing pink gems. Her eyes widened. "A—are you serious? Is this a real unicorn horseshoe?" Too stunned (and sleep deprived) to think of something more fitting to say, she blurted out the next question that came to mind: "Unicorns don't have cloven hooves?"

"Yes, yes, and—no. Not in Gravity Falls, anyway—I don't know if there are other unicorn varieties."

Pity, Melody had always liked the more deer-like artistic depictions of unicorns. But having a real horseshoe more than made up for it. "Wow, thank you." She beamed at Ford. "This is really sweet."

"Ahh," Ford waved off the gratitude, "all it's doing is sitting in a drawer collecting sparkly dust, you'd appreciate it more than me."

She drew it out of its envelope tentatively. It was unexpectedly warm and made her fingertips slightly buzz. "Does it have any magic powers, what's it do?"

"If you're playing horseshoes with it, it always gets a ringer. It makes for a boring game—unless you really want to humiliate your opponent," Ford said. "And there's a chance that it might have some power over creatures in the mindscape, just like their hair—but I've never tested that theory. Anyway, it can't hurt to try."

####

"Bill—"

"What's the barometric pressure doing?"

Ford paused. "What?"

He'd found Bill at the kitchen table with a teapot, elbows on the table and eyes shut with both thumbs pressed to the spot in between his eyebrows. "My face bones have been aching for the last hour," Bill griped. "Like there's something pressing on them. It came out of nowhere. Is the air pressure doing anything weird?"

"Er—a heatwave is pushing the last of the rain and humidity out of the area, so it should be dropping."

Bill groaned. "Great," he muttered. "If this stupid thing is predisposed to sinus headaches, I'm writing such an angry letter to..." To Ford's disappointment, Bill trailed off into mumbles before Ford could hear who, exactly, Bill considered responsible for the condition his human body had been created in; and instead he poured himself a cup of tea and chugged it like it wasn't billowing enough steam to power a 19th century locomotive.

Bill hadn't even flinched, so Ford decided not to wonder about what was happening to the inside of his throat right now and tried to focus on what he'd come over here for. He cleared his throat while he prepared for the daunting task of initiating a conversation. "I... had a question for you."

Bill looked up at Ford from over the brim of his teacup. "I probably have answers, but maybe not for you.

He hadn't said Ford couldn't attempt to ask. "What do you know about sleep paralysis demons?"

"Figured out you can't use Mabel to do your dirty work, huh?" He glanced across the table, where there was a second unoccupied chair, and slouched down as far as he could so he could kick up his feet and use the chair as a footrest.

Message received and ignored. "Bill, I'm serious." Ford had even brought a notebook to take notes. Not his journal—he still wasn't leaving that anywhere Bill could potentially see it—but even so.

Bill let out an exaggerated sigh that sank him another inch lower into his seat. "I think we've been over this before! Are you my student?"

"Oh, knock it off, Cipher. You were more than happy to tell me all about your thoughts on Wyoming yesterday."

"Only because you didn't want me to!" Bill gave him a mischievous smirk that was somewhat marred by the way his brow flinched in pain. "So, are you my student?"

For a moment, Ford wondered if it really was that easy. If all Bill wanted was one tiny, meaningless little victory he could hold over Ford's head, and then the floodgates of information would open again. Wouldn't swallowing his pride and enduring a little gloating be worth it in order to get information that would help his family? All he had to do was say yes.

But it wouldn't stop there, would it. Stop drooling over these 'floodgates of information.' Ford should be less concerned about finding a way to crack the dam on Bill's stored-up cosmic trivia, and more concerned about letting Bill make a crack in Ford's dam. He was afraid Bill might have taken a few chips out of the concrete yesterday.

Wasn't the fact that he'd even considered saying yes proof enough?

"No."

Bill's smile faded away like a ghost in sunlight. "Then I don't see why I should tell you anything."

"To redeem yourself after getting caught spying on Soos and Melody's room in the middle of the night?"

Bill considered that, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth; and then he flung a hand out dismissively. "I can't help that your third-dimensional idea of 'walls' is about as opaque as cling-wrap to me! I just happened to be passing by at the wrong time, you can't hold that against me."

Ford sighed in frustration. "Fine. If you decide you want to be helpful, you know where to find me."

"Always. And if you ever want to be my student again, you know where to find me!" And with that parting shot delivered, Bill sat up in his seat properly again so he could enjoy his tea.

But Ford stopped mid-exit and asked, "Why?"

Bill froze with his teacup halfway to his mouth. He hadn't expected his parting shot to restart the gunfight. "What?"

"Why would you offer to 'teach' me again? What would you get out of it?" Ford asked. "I suppose I wouldn't find out what you were after until I was in too deep to get out, would I?"

"Sheesh, Dr. Paranoid! Don't read too much into it! I said it because you were a good student once—and you could be again if you ever got over yourself." Ford had said only a few days ago that Bill was already the muse he pretended to be—was it so strange for Bill to say the same back?

"Well, the question still stands: what would you get out of my being a 'good student' for you? What do you have to gain?"

The wheels in Bill's mind cranked uselessly as he tried to think of an answer. His first instinctive response was portal—but no, at long last, after hundreds of billions of years of trying, he had a portal (half-disassembled), a working set of blueprints, and a full-time body he could use to do the work itself. If Ford found out about Bill's work, he'd just disassemble it again. Bill didn't need him. For the first time, he didn't need anybody.

So there was no good reason for the idea of "teaching" Ford again to tug at him. "Fine, offer revoked! No secrets of the universe for you. You're welcome. Buzz off." Bill decided he'd probably just wanted the attention. Even when he didn't need manual labor, he always needed an audience, he knew that much about himself—and Ford had been such a good audience.

"Fine," Ford grumbled. "But—if you won't talk to me, talk to someone. Melody, ideally. The poor girl's miserable—and whether you care or not, you're the only one in a position to do more for her than wave unicorn hair at the problem and hope it goes away."

Bill stared into his teacup, considering that, as Ford left.

####

"Headache?"

Melody looked up tiredly. While there weren't any tourists in the gift shop, she'd been resting her eyes behind the cash register—which had, without her full awareness, evolved into crossing her arms on the counter and cradling her forehead in her arms. She'd told herself she'd hear if any customers came in; but she hadn't heard Bill until he was leaning back against the other side of the counter.

"Mrphg." Melody scrubbed her eyes, trying to wake herself. "Something like that."

"Same," Bill said. His one un-eyepatched eye squinted in pain as he said, "I think my sinuses are trying to pop like over-swollen balloons. No idea why! But I'm guessing yours has more to do with a bad night's sleep."

Bill's always slightly-too-strident voice was like a hammer gently pounding nails into her eardrums, but at least it was waking her back up. Before her common sense had a chance to catch up, she mumbled, "Ugh, yeeeah. I haven't had nightmares this awful since I was working on my thesis project."

"Unicorn myths, right?" Bill said. "Were those nightmares about me, too?"

She gave him a dirty look.

"Just asking! I know you were looking into the zany shenanigans I got up to back in England."

"No, the nightmares weren't about you." She should have just told him to get out; but she was distracted by a thought that, if she'd been a little less sleep-deprived, she should have realized much earlier today.

If the nightmare that had visited her last night was real, then they all might have been real. Every nighttime visit since she was a little girl; the hunched shapes of leering, sneering thesis advisors that stalked through her dorm room at night while she struggled to focus on research during the day.

She had thought the stress had made her have those nightmares. She'd quit school, right before her final year, because she thought she was burnt out. 

No. Some nighttime stalker had driven her out of school. And her blood boiled with fury at the realization.

But why? And what made the nightmares—the harassment—get worse?

She tried to remember if it really had gotten worse right after she'd discovered The Bastard Triangle Cuts the Unicorn's Hair.

She added, "Not until after Weirdmageddon."

"Huh." He considered that with a deep frown of concentration, not looking at her; and then suddenly offered her a teacup she hadn't noticed he was holding. "Tea? It'll help with your headache. It's got medicinal herbs!"

She gave the cup a suspicious look—Bill didn't do nice things just to be nice, what was he up to?—(what did he have to do with all of this?)—and in reply Bill lifted his second cup demonstratively and asked, "What, do you want to trade with mine to make sure I didn't poison it? Come on, it's just tea."

"Fine." She didn't think he was dumb enough to try to poison her so obviously. (And she didn't think he had access to the poisons.) She grudgingly accepted the cup, took a sip, and screwed up her face. "Ew, it's bitter. What kind of herbs are in this?"

"Willow tree bark," Bill said. "I ground up a few painkillers!"

She didn't think he was supposed to have access to those, either. But probably more helpful than herbs, truth be told. She braced herself for the taste and took another sip.

Bill pushed off from the counter and wandered around the gift shop, inspecting the clothing on the racks: the deep green question mark t-shirts, the yellow-beige shirt with a spindly pine on it like the shirt they'd given Bill until the Pines had had a chance to take him shopping, the rack of unicorn hide belts Soos had made from cutting up rugs from the Northwest Manor garage sale.

As Bill fiddled with a pale sky blue belt, he said, almost contemplatively, "Spend tonight in the shack."

This time her grimace wasn't from the taste. She'd been bouncing back and forth between the shack and her aunt's place for the past month while she tried to find a sleeping arrangement that minimized her nightmares; after discovering Bill spying through the bedroom door last night, she'd made up her mind to spend tonight with her aunt. "I've tried that," Melody said, "and it used to help and now it doesn't—"

"No." Bill turned to meet her gaze directly with his one exposed eye; from this angle, his slitted pupil looked as sharp as a knife. "I mean spend tonight in the shack."

Bill was up to something. She didn't trust him on the best of days, and that was before she'd realized she'd been bullied out of school by literal demons around the same time she saw his stupid tapestry... and that he knew about it.

But then, he'd also been furious about the sleep paralysis demon using his face.

Melody could find out how deeply Bill was involved in this harassment campaign later. First, she needed to get a full night's sleep. And tonight, Bill was after the demon instead of her.

What did she have to lose? "Fine," she sighed. "I'll try it."

####

(TBOB changes! i got the name of lucky leprechaun cereal from TBOB. and added the Folk German reference due to TBOB.

And although the day mare & nightmare tapestry came from This Is Not A Website Dot Com, everything that makes it relevant here—Bill taking something of a leadership position among nightmares, Melody having a focus on unicorn mythology around the time/place the tapestry was made—was part of this arc's plans pre-TBOB.

And then the tapestry just gently fluttered down right smack dab in the middle of what i was already doing. the bastard triangle tapestry actually forced me to introduce the "day mares vs nightmares" pun several chapters earlier than I originally planned, since I figured I couldn't justify Melody not having seen the tapestry before. You'll just have to take my word for it that I came up with that pun independently and was gonna reveal it as a deeply ridiculous punchline.

Anyway, looking forward to y'all's thoughts on this chapter!)

[maki-png]

Heyyy I’m not sure if you’re taking requests atm but I’ve been going crazy over Maki taking readers virginity! I think he would be so gentle at first but would kind of get caught up half way through. He would for sure have a size/bulge kink.

I would be soooo happy if you could write something like that! I love your work and your writing style!!🫶🏻❤️

OMG don’t do this to me i do not play about first time & about size kinks

also i'm soo sorry this took so long life got in the way of the *actually* important stuff (maki) but i hope you enjoy!

also first maki content let's go he's literally my bias guys TT

first time w maki

⋆˙⟡ warnings/content: fem bodied reader, virgin!reader, unprotected sex (not advised), making out, ass grabbing, fingering, maki has a big dick, pet names (baby, princess), size/bulge kink, cumming inside, praise, aftercare

-you and maki have been dating for a few months now but haven't gone beyond kissing and some heavy petting and occasional fingering

-one night your makeout session turns particularly heated, maki's large hands kneading your ass and creeping closer and closer to the hem of your skirt. you whimper at the feeling of his hands on your bare skin and quickly help him get your skirt off, then your top, leaving you in just your bra and panties

-so far you're totally fine with it since you've gotten down to your undergarments in front of him before

-suddenly you're tugging his shirt up so you can reach the zipper of his jeans

-he grabs your hand and stops you. "are you ready to go there?"

-you bite your lip and nod, a bit nervous but mostly excited especially after maki takes the edge of his shirt between his teeth and guides your hand back to his zipper

-you get a bit intimidated when you pull his jeans down and lay your eyes on the growing bulge in his boxers, because to be frank he's massive. this is the first dick you'd actually seen in real life but you're well aware that maki is definitely above average

-maki notices you hesitating and tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear. "are you sure baby?"

-"yeah, maki, i want you. i need you. please." you can feel your heartbeat in your throat knowing what's about to happen

-he talks a lot: "it's cold in here, is it cold in here for you?" "maybe i should turn the fan off." "do you need the blankets? pillows?" clearing his throat and shit and it's almost like he's nervous too because he's never been someone's first time before, he just wants it to be perfect for you

-"i've still gotta prep you but once i'm done, uh, do you want me to use a condom?" he asks you, rubbing your thighs. he almost moans when you shake your head, saying, "i got on the pill a little while ago cause.. well.." you look at him. "i want to feel you, maki" he swears he almost cums right then and there

-maki would be so sweet at first, prepping you so well and getting you wetter than you'd ever gotten just from his fingers, stretching you as much as he can so you're ready to take his length

-talks you through it: "ok i'm gonna put it in now babe, mkay? let me know if it hurts"

-he'd be so careful pushing his tip into you for the first time, checking basically every second to see if you're in pain or uncomfortable and only continuing after you'd whined "yes, i'm fine," for the nth time

-at first the invasion feels odd, you knit your brows and are wondering for a second why people enjoy this, but then maki shifts and it's like your body absorbs him, the two of you fitting together so perfectly that you never want him to leave

-feeling your warmth around him for the first time, he sighs and even moans a little. "been thinking about this for months, baby, you feel even better than i imagined, fuck"

-when he pushes in a bit more you gasp. "maki you're too big i don't know if i can--" you whine and clench almost involuntarily around him as your body takes what it's been craving for the past few months "i don't know if i can take you. i'm kinda scared, maki"

-"you're okay, baby, you're okay. i won't go too fast, i'll let you get situated and then tell me when it feels right, mkay? you can even tell me to stop if you need me to."

-you nod and by this point you're so needy for him you figure you're just going to have to trust him to do his thing

-"you're doing so well though baby, look at you, your body's sucking me in like you were made for this." he rubs your thighs and then arms softly and gives your forehead a peck

-but then maki would get a bit too caught up in it, bucking his hips and accidentally bottoming out inside you way too quickly and moaning at the same time you whimper

-he thrusts hard and fast after that, snapping his hips up and into you so much your body shakes and you bump your head lightly against the bed's headboard, gripping his arms for stability

-constantly muttering to himself about how good you feel, how much he needed this, how much he wants to take care of you, completely in a daze

-at one point maki looks down and his eyes widen, and you follow his gaze to see a very slight bump in your lower stomach

-"fuck is that me?" he groans and gently presses a hand onto your stomach making you both moan. "...i'm huge, i can actually see myself inside you, princess"

-"maki, mhm, this is even better than your fingers," you find yourself arching your back and shoving your hips towards him in an effort to be as close to him as you can as he reaches the deepest parts of you and grazes your sweet spot making you whine loudly

-"yeah? you feel so good baby can't believe it's your first time, you're taking me so well," he breathes. "m gonna cum soon."

-"then cum inside me," you whisper, making him stop in his tracks. "you sure?" but you can feel his hips grinding into you at a sloppier pace. you nod and reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers

-maki cums like that, holding your hand and the sensation of his hot load filling your walls is a bit weird -- but it's a good weird, and once he lets go of your hand and thumbs circles into your clit you find yourself joining him only a few moments later

-he'd be so sweet with the aftercare as well, cleaning you off with a damp, warm cloth and letting you rest for a few minutes before helping you to the shower and getting changed into one of his oversized shirts afterwards

-you're lying on the bed stripped of its sheet, and he nuzzles his face into your hair and kisses your cheek, your ear, muttering, "i'm so glad it was me," kissing and licking your lips and wrapping his warm arms around you

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Silence is Golden 5

Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.

Character: Lloyd Hansen, smol, mute! reader

Summary: you’re put in the custody of a strange man with questionable motives and an even more questionable mustache.

Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah 💋

Lloyd walks up the stairs. You're right behind him. There's paintings on the wall. They look like the ones you see in important places. Rocco had one of a woman bleeding from one breast...

Lloyd stops suddenly and you walk into his back. You stumble away and watch him, watch his hands. The grip his hips.

"You can chill out, alright? Just..." He huffs and looks past you then behind him. "I'm gonna put you in a room and you stay there. Okay?"

You blink. He waits. You blink again.

"Can I get anything? A nod?" He frowns.

You stare at him as he stares back. His forehead lines. Slowly you raise your hand. You put your thumb up.

"Great. You understand... I hope."

He nudges you back the way you can and stops at a door. He opens it and flicks on the light inside.

"You got a bed and a bathroom. Get some sleep and we'll figure all this shit out in the morning." He crosses his arms. "Maybe some clothes that don't smell like a basement."

You enter the room and spin around to take it in. It's big and nice. The bed looks cozy and there's a patterned rug under it. You pad across to the window and pulls back the curtains.

"Cool, I'll leave you to it."

The door shuts. You peek back to make sure he's gone. You return your attention to the window and the dark lawn below.

This is all his. It would be nice to have something all your own, let alone many things. Your eyes blur off into the distance and your forehead hits the cold glass. Your eyes droop and you catch yourself on the window frame.

You are tired.

You go around the bed. You leave the slippers beside it and turn away. You go to the first door, right there. It's a bathroom, as promised.

You go back to the other side of the room to a small door. It's a closet. You inspect it. There's not much inside, empty hangers and a box on the shelf.

You step inside and shut the door. You push your back to the wall and slide down. You hug your legs and curl up with your head over your knees.

If you sleep in a ball, you won't wake up to a kick in the stomach.

🙊

Footsteps wake you. You give a start and listen with a racing heart. They hammer on the other side of the wall. All around is darkness, a single slit of light across the floor.

"Hey! Quiet girl. Where the fuck are you?" The man hollers.

You know his voice but you can't trust yourself. As many times as you didn't want to believe things were real, that you were safe, you know better. You put your hands over your mouth and listen to him stomp around.

"Goddamn!" He barks. "Ass nuts."

His footsteps pound the floor and fade off into a distant tempo. You tuck your chin down and hold your head. It isn't Rocco or those other mean men but you just can't leave the darkness. Not yet.

You stay like that. You can hear him yelling and slamming distantly. Eventually, you don't hear anything.

You nestle into the corner and close your eyes. Your head is throbbing. You're still exhausted.

You sink back into a dreamless sleep. Those are the best. When there's nothing to be afraid of or even think of.

You're torn out of your sleep by the sudden cascade of light and a voice.

"There the fuck you are!" Lloyd stands over you. "I've been running around like a man with my balls cut off and you've been in the damn closet."

You rub your eyes as you look up at him. He bends and grabs your upper arms. He brings you to the feet and takes you out of the closet.

"Why didn't you use the bed?" He walks you to it and makes you sit. "Look, I'm not a nice guy but I did a nice thing. I offered you a perfectly good queen-sized and I don't appreciate spit in my face... Not in this context."

You look at him. You angle your head slightly. You didn't mean to upset him. 

You feel the bed under your hands. You push down on the springs. Cushy.

You turn and put your knees on the mattress. You crawl across it and turn to face him again. You wobble as you get your feet under you. You stand and bounce. Just a little.

You give a thumbs up and make a full jump, and another, and another. A line deepens between his brows and he pinches his nose. He exhales then drops his hand.

"Alright. I know I should get rid of you. You're no good to me-- hey, you wanna stop that and listen?"

You straighten your legs and stand in the middle of the mattress. You watch him. 

"I got no use for you. No talky, no listen." He opens and closes a hand. "I should but I also don't need you wandering into traffic and leading anyone back to me." He clucks. "I fucked up. I should've left you back there with that fat fuck."

He runs his hands over his hair and shrugs. "Too fucking late, huh?"

You cross the bed unsteadily and stop before him. He watches you. You reach out and push on the line in his forehead and try to smoothe it with the pad of your finger. His lips twitch. 

He steps back away from your reach. "You need clothes. Let's figure that out."

You jump and let yourself fall. You land on your ass on the bed and bounce into your feet. You stare at him and give a thumbs up. 

He narrows his eyes then spins away. "Come on." He calls over his shoulder.

[m00nxst0ne]

𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦.  ꜱʜʀᴜɴᴋᴇɴ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇꜱ 

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺. When a load of the boys laundry get’s royally fucked up (or with), it leaves their clothes a bit…smaller then they remember 

𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵. Batboys (Bruce W. Dick G. Jason T. Tim D. Older!Damien W.) 

𝗕𝗿𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗪. - His cowl (under his mask) 

Bruce Wayne was a man of many things, billionaire, CEO, Batman for christ sake, and yet? A man who could do his own laundry did not fall under his list. Alfred had always done it for him, Wayne was a busy man, one too busy for laundry. 

And that was the first mistake. 

His second was trying to just ‘wing it’ when Alfred left on a vacation, it was just three days and in that time Bruce had messed up. He would have asked for you to help him but seeing as how you were out with friends and he was a grown man (physically at least), he should know how to do laundry. 

And that was his third mistake, because now he was stuck with a cowl too tight for his head but too stubborn to say anything to you, or worse, Alfred was not worth the hit to his pride. Yet you noticed anyways, when he climbed into bed in the early mornings after kicking criminals asses all night. 

You traced his face in the dark and then felt it, one too many indents and quickly turned on the lights in fear he was injured. Instead you noticed how they weren't cuts or new scars, instead it looked like something had been pressing into his face for a while. It raised an eyebrow. 

“Bruce….what’s on your face?” You asked, arms crossed as he sighed and looked down at the bed sheets, rumpled from the two of you. 

“I…shrunk my cowl in the dryer by accident” 

𝗗𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗚. - His suit 

“Hey babe? I think our dryer might be broken” You heard him shout from the laundry room as you sat in bed, book in hand while currently placing a book mark between the cream colored pages. 

With a sigh and flick of the sheets, you were up and already walking down the hall, turning the corner to the laundry room.

“Dick, honey, I told you two days ago that our dryer has been broken, that’s why I've been doing laundry else…where…” It was hard to continue your sentence when you had this sight staring back at you. There stood Dick Grayson, your loving boyfriend….currently sporting his vigilante suit which now looked way too small for him. 

The wrists now sat on his forearms, clearly stretched by the muscle with the ankles in similar fashion around his even more muscular calves. Holding back a laugh as you watched him look down at himself in confusion, it’s a wonder how he was even able to get that on. 

“Turn around for me babe” You told him, watching as he listened and turned so his back faced you, well more like his backside. 

“And yet, your ass still looks phenomenal in that uniform” You muttered, fishing your phone out of your pocket. 

“I’ll call Alfred, take that thing off please” You laughed, stepping out of the room and walking back down the hall only to hear him call out. “I don’t think I can!” 

𝗝𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗧. - His compression shirts 

Jason liked to do his laundry, well his laundry for his nighttime activities all at once, a week's worth of compression shirts hidden under the hard plates of his armor. It was like a ritual for him at the end of the week. 

“Hey Jace, Tim stopped by earlier, said something about the dryer at the manor being broken, let him use ours” You told your large yet loving boyfriend, Jason. Jason hummed in response, pushing the button on the dryer to start it before turning to you. 

“Long as the nerd wasn’t here too long” He muttered, picking you up into his arms and bringing you back to the couch to finish your show. 

Later 

“Never let that idiot into our home again” Jason grumbled, looking at himself in the mirror at himself, more so the shirt he pulled from the dryer and noticed looked a little weird. Now here they all were, shrunken down to the point where when he put them on he looked ridiculous, to him at least. 

The even tighter fabric clung to every muscle over his chest, pulling so tight it was almost see through. 

“That little shit, He did somethin’ to our machine I know he did” Jason huffed, you tried to hold in your laughter, you really did but when he subconsciously flexed the muscles in his body…

rrriiiippppp

The fabric of the shirt tore in multiple places, seams popping open as his muscles clawed their way out. It pushed you over, laughing and gasping for air as you watched his more than unsatisfied expression in the mirror. 

“Yeah, har har,  laugh it up” He muttered, pulling the ripped and yet still tight fabric from his body and throwing it with the rest of the shrunken shirts. 

“Drake owes me” 

𝗧𝗶𝗺 𝗗. - His favorite hoodie 

Tim couldn’t remember the last time he actually got a full nights sleep, maybe a week? Who knows. All he knows is the past week has been surviving off two to three hours of sleep and a heartstopping concoction of monster energy and coffee you’re unsure how he even stomachs. 

But finally, the bag guy was caught and Gotham was in a bit of a lull, and what did Tim do? Not sleep, that's for sure. 

You told him to catch up on rest yet he insisted that he had more important stuff to do, like his laundry. You could tell how much this lack of sleep was affecting him and tried to offer to do it but he declined and all you could do was shrug and watch. 

Watch as he set the dial wrong on the dryer, you tried to stop him but he only shook his head, told you he was a big boy and whisked you off to bed, for a nap. 

By the time you woke up you noticed his side of the bed was empty, still warm as if he just left. You sat up slightly and rubbed your eyes just in time to see him walk in the room, eyes casted on the ground and foot lightly kicking something non existent, he looked like a kid who just got told ‘no’ or did something bad. 

“Hey tims, what’s…oh…” You said, stifling a giggle with your hand as you looked at him, he was wearing his favorite hoodie, just a simple red one but still it was his favorite. Yet now, it shrunk and it was obvious, now instead of covering his abdomen like usual, it fit him like a slightly cropped hoodie. 

He reached up to scratch the back of his neck, sheepishly muttering something about how he set the dryer wrong. Which in turn, made you smirk. 

“Told you so” You giggled again, eyes now trained on his waist, did he always have such a slim waist? “You have such a sluttly little waist tim, I love it” 

Yeah that had him blushing the rest of the day, and week if he thought about it too hard. 

𝗗𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗲𝗻 𝗪. - His cape 

“Hey I think our dryer is broken or something, It’s making a weird noise and when I did a test run, it shrunk my towel” You tried to tell Damien, who was currently sitting at his computer furiously typing away. 

“I’ll look into it beloved” He muttered, eyes never leaving the screen as he continued to do, well whatever it was he was doing. 

He never looked at the dryer, and you understood, he was really busy recently with a mission he was involved in so instead you started to do laundry at the manor, gave you an excuse to see and hang out with Alfred. 

Until one morning. 

“Beloved, I do not understand, have you messed with my suit? Have I done something wrong to upset you or cause you to do this?” He stated, walking into the room suddenly. You looked up from your laptop and glanced at him. At first there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it, his suit looked normal? 

“What? I haven’t touched your suit, what are you talking about?” You asked, clearly confused before he turned around. Where his usually long black and yellow cape sat now was replaced with a….well….ridiculously tiny version of it, his hood now unusable and instead pinned to his suit. 

Then it hit you. 

“Did you use the dryer honey?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him, watching him struggle to get the small cape off while you laughed slightly.

“Yes, I don’t see what’s so funny beloved” He huffed a response, finally grabbing the cape and simply tearing it off. 

“I told you earlier this week, our dryer is broken, remember?” You tried to hold back the laughs. He stilled for a second before his shoulders sagged a bit. 

“Oh…right yes…I seem to have remembered now” He muttered, watching you lean over to grab your phone. 

“I’ll call Alfred" You told him. 

“Don’t tell the others” 

[sinnerfreckleserve]

Every step of the way (Jannik Sinner)

When you have someone by your side, hard things become just that little bit easier and better to deal with

Note: english is not my first language. I'm not a doctor, so there are probably some inaccurate informations here, but this is what I know both from reading and from experience. Everyone has different experiences, and I wanted to be able to depict that in some way. Also, this is very self-indulgent because my cycle this month is having a thing of its own

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions periods, blood, medical appointments, endometriosis

"How bad is it?", Jannik asked you as you both laid down on the bed.

"Like a seven, but hopefully the meds will kick in soon", you mumbled, finding a comfortable position in your boyfriend's embrace.

"Wake me up if you need anything, okay? I don't want you to be uncomfortable when I can help with something", he said, kissing the top of your head and cuddling you in.

Your period had been acting up again, and while you usually knew what to do and when, this time around all of the tricks you knew seemed lack the hability to soothe you, so to say you were feeling less than fine was an understatement.

Sleeping usually helped, but soon enough you ended up being woken up by a particular sharp pain on your lower belly and lower back, and despite Jannik's insistence, you tried your best to get up from the bed to grab something to relieve the pain without making too much noise, not wanting to wake your boyfriend up. Your efforts seemed small, though, because as soon as you got up, it didn't take your boyfriend long before his hand palmed the area where you had been asleep on.

"Y/N?", he called.

"I just wanted to get something to ease the pain, go back to sleep, love", you whispered, seeing him get up instead.

"I'll get the machine, you just rest, okay?", he said in a both stern and soft way, making you lie back on the bed as he looked for the TENS machine.

In one of your appointments, your doctor mentioned that if you had the possibility and the means, you could try the machine as it would help you deal with the pain, and so far it had helped you a great deal.

"Here, amore", Jannik helped you with your top and shorts, placing the small circles on either side of your tummy, "is that good?", he said as he regulated the level on the machine.

"It's not doing much, if I'm honest", you whimpered, feeling bad because of how much effort your boyfriend was putting in hopes of making you feel better and how little it was working.

"Come here", he nudged you, cuddling you closer to him as his hands traced shapes on yout tummy, "does this hurt?", he asked.

"No, you're okay", you mumbled, trying to distract yourself from the intense cramps, "thank you for being here", you kissed the skin near his clavicle.

"I'll be here for you, always", Jannik mumbled.

You were in and out of sleep for the whole night, seeing the light seep through the windows slowly as the cramps kept getting stronger again, keeping you up for most of the time.

"Hey you", Jannik mumbled, "how are you feeling?", he asked.

"I think they're a little bit softer now, or maybe I've become numb to them", you huffed, trying to find a better position when you felt the need to use the toilet, "I'll be back", you said, walking slowly to the bathroom.

The uncomfortable feeling in your underwear was justified by the amount of period blood that had been way heavier than usual this time around, taking you a while to clean up before going back to the bedroom and change your bottoms.

"Did any of it get in the bedding?", you asked Jannik, seeing he was already up and looking for something too.

"No, I noticed when you got up and looked for any spots, but the bed is fine", he smiled sadly, "I was thinking we should call your doctor and tell her about this? I've seen really rough cycles you've had and none of them compare to this", Jannik reasoned.

You had been together for nearly four years and he never saw you in this much pain and discomfort, and adding the fact that you had a good pain threshold, it was worrying him even more.

"I'll send her a text to see if she thinks I need to go somewhere, or at least give me something, and maybe this will help the diagnosis", you mumbled, grabbing your phone and writing a small description of how you had been feeling.

The last set of exams you had got done were already prescribed because of some suspicions your doctor had given how intense your cycles usually were and this may very well be another situation to help you get closer to understanding how your body was working.

"While we wait, I'm going to get us breakfast, okay? I know food is the last thing on your mind, but you'll need to eat", he nodded, kissing your forehead before going downstairs to prepare the food.

You were reading the text your doctor sent you back when Jannik entered the room, a tray with tea and toast on it, "she texted me back", you began, "she says that these are all common symptoms and that there isn't much I can do, but that she can get me an appointment for tomorrow because this helps put things into perspective", you shrugged, setting your phone on your bedside table.

"I'll go with you", Jannik said, helping you sit up so you could eat.

"I would usually say that I don't need it, that I can go on my own, but it's not like you would let me anyway, am I right?", you smiled, "but I will actually say that I'm thankful for that and that I love you very much. I'm very lucky to have you with me", you smiled honestly for the first time in a while.

"I love you, too, sweetheart", Jannik spoke, taking your hand in his and squeezing it.

.

When the next morning rolled around, Jannik drove you both to the appointment, his hand resting where your leg met your hip and rubbing circles. After checking in and grabbing your card so you could go to the lab and let them collect the samples they needed, you went back to the waiting area, Jannik sitting in one of the sofas.

"Was it okay?", he asked.

"Yes, the nurse just had to get a blood sample so the doctor can check if everything is fine with that, the scan is inside her office from what she told me", you replied.

Just on time like the appointment was scheduled, your name was called and you both got up, Jannik lacing his fingers in yours and squeezing it as you entered the office. Greeting you both, your doctor asked you to sit down, "Hello Y/N, Hi Jannik, please take a seat", she said, "it seems your pain hasn't been getting any better", she added, letting you carry on.

"I've been managing it just fine like I told you in the last appointment, but this month it was unbearable, I don't think it ever got this bad. Especially around my lower back and lower tummy, definitely never felt like this", you explained.

"I'm just opening your lab results here on the computer", she said, "you remember the possibilities we talked about in our last appointment, and I think we have enough results here that would suggest one of them, which is endometriosis, so I'd like to do another scan to see if there is support to that hypothesis", she nodded to the table.

You set your bag on the chair you were sitting in, moving to lay on your back and lift your shirt up so she could place the gel on your skin.

"It's cold, I'm sorry", she smiled apologetically as she grabbed the wand, looking at the screen and frowning.

You had been her patient long enough to know her enough to gather that it wasn't good news. Question was: was it bad news because it supported the diagnosis or was it bad because you were back to square one with no idea about what symptoms to look for?

"Do you see these parts here? This is all endometrial tissue that's grown outside of your uterus, which is here", she pointed to the screen, "because you're about on the last day of your period, so your flow is smaller now", she checked and you nodded, "so this, like we spoke about, can be the cause of your symptoms, why you feel so much pain, why your cycles tend to be on the heavier side, also the tiredness, the nausea", the doctor added, now turning to Jannik so he could also be involved in her explanation.

After cleaning you up, you sat back in the chair next to your boyfriend, feeling his hand land on your thigh as your doctor typed the results on the computer.

"Having said this, I'm recommending you a few specialists in this area, so you'll have specific, specialised and personalised care", she offered, "I know this can be a scary moment, but I also want you to see the side where you're finally aware of what is happening in your body and now look for the answers that target it".

"Was there anything that could've prevented this? Are we doing something wrong?", Jannik asked.

"No, this isn't something you can prevent. Usually, endometriosis is hereditary, and since Y/N mentioned her aunt had some issues getting pregnant and her mother also showed these symptoms, it is most likely that it is genetic", she enlightened, seeing you nod as you squeezed Jannik's hand back.

After she went over a few more tricks for your pain management, you and Jannik thanked her and walked out to the car, getting inside and fastening your seat belts.

"Are you okay, amore mio?", Jannik wondered, not being able to read your expression, which wasn't usual.

"It may sound weird, but I think I've been expecting this. Like, I knew what I had wasn't normal, and after talking to my mother and my aunt, it started to make sense. And then I read things on Google, which I know it's not the best thing, but I did it carefully", you began, "so I was expecting it, I guess. Me and Dr. Bavaro have been discussing the possibility, so it wasn't a shock. She was very direct because that's how it has always been and I appreciate her for it", you noted.

"I have to admit she was a bit forward", Jannik chuckled lightly, his hand grabbing yours, "but it makes sense now. I want you to know, though, that I'll be here for everything that I can, I want to support you as much as possible", he added.

"It's still something to process, and it's only for sure whenever I go to the next appointments, so I'll just take it in", you answered honestly, smiling at Jannik before kissing him, "thank you for always being here".

When you arrived home, you felt your body get even more tired as you changed into comfortable clothes, sensing that as soon as your head hit anything resembling a pillow or a mattress you would fall asleep.

While you slept on the big sofa, Jannik was on his phone looking up the best specialists in the area, typing the phone number and email as well as their name in his notes app so you could both discuss it later once you woke up.

Even though Dr. Bavaro explained a few things about what her suspicions were and you had also told him about them from previous appointments, Jannik had to admit he wasn't well-versed in the topic beyond what you had told him, so he did what he thought was best and looked it up on the Internet.

Mindful of the websites he was reading, he came across a few ones that seemed legit and that had a simple language and didn't sound too alarming and rather only just wanting to spread knowledge about the topic. They all mentioned your symptoms, gave a brief explanation of what it was and the implications did catch his eye, smoothing his finger over the screen as he locked his phone, hearing you stir in the middle of your sleep.

"Hey, handsome", you said, approaching him and craddling his arm.

"Are you feeling better?", he asked, pressing his lips on the top of your head, seeing you nod.

"I was looking up specialists, and I have a few contacts here, I made a little list", he began, "and I know we should've done this together, but I couldn't help myself, and I was looking up a bit more information because I didn't know about it", he scrambled out, "I was not taught this, I don't think anyone is, but I looked it up, and- yeah, there are doctors for these kinds of things and they seem to know what helps and what to do".

He looked so nervous that you felt you were the one to calm him down and reassure him, "Hey, one thing at a time, yes?", you urged, grabbing his hand in yours in an attempt of calming him, "thank you for looking them up, I'll see the list and the ones that fit the situation best", you said.

"Fortunately, we have the means to do this and seek help to make you feel better, for all the options we have", your boyfriend continued, "I sort of fell in the spiral of what it would mean and I want to be with you every step of the way".

"As much as I think this is too much, I can't help but be grateful that we can do it, so I'll let you have this one", you smirked, "and like you said, we'll take it one step at a time".

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎSTAR QUALITY౨ৎ꣑ৎ

fem reader x coriolanus snow thank you @phantomamour for proofing!! <3 thank you @phantomwritezstuff077 for the request!! <3 large text version here!

The roar of the audience dimmed with the lights, but you could still see him . It was like he had a spotlight of his own, a light that announced importance. Everybody's eyes always drifted to him. Being a beautiful man was one of the best things to be in Panem, and Coriolanus Snow took advantage of it.

His eyes were burning into you, blue gaze lethal like poison. You determinedly stared at the audience, taking another gracious bow, mouthing thank you at the older couples sitting in the front row. They were regulars, gracing your shows at least a few nights a week. A flower was tossed onstage and you bent gracefully to retrieve it, lifting it to your nose and resting a hand over your heart as you curtsied. He was still watching. Letting your hair fall over your right shoulder as you bowed again, his side, you stepped back, exiting into the wings and making for your dressing room.

You smiled and thanked everyone who congratulated you on your way. It was the final show of your run, and you were long overdue for a lengthy break. A few lazy weeks spent in your lovely apartment, eating whatever you wanted and reading books and flipping through catalogs. As you started removing your makeup, you imagined the nice lavender bath you'd be taking when you got home. It'd be so lovely to just relax instead of going over lines quietly for hours at a time or worrying over calories.

Yawning, you leaned your cheek on your hand, blinking tiredly at yourself in the mirror. Eight shows a week for the past four months had taken a toll. It was common for the exhaustion not to catch up with you until it was all over, and now it was coming in waves. It'd be a miracle if you could make it out to the car, let alone push through the press and fans that waited at the door. Usually you loved to greet them, sign their programs and learn their names, but tonight you'd be sleepwalking.

There was a knock at your door and you called for them to come in, your silk dressing gown falling off your shoulder. Through the mirror, you watched with a sleepy smile as Coriolanus entered, a bouquet of roses in one hand. His suit was crisp, a shade of maroon that wouldn't look right on another man. Not a hair was out of place on his perfect blonde head, something that was sure to change in the next few minutes.

"Darling," he greeted after he shut the door, and you turned sideways in your chair to face him. Dipping his head, he stole a kiss, free hand rising to cradle your cheek. "You were breathtaking."

"You say that every night," you giggled, and he pressed his lips to your brow.

"And every night it's true." Coriolanus set the roses on the table, kneeling in front of you. The fact that he was creasing his suit pants just to meet your eyes made you smile. His big hands settled on your thighs, parting your dressing gown. "Are you ready?"

"The press has been asking about my next project," you murmured, looking down at your hands. "I've been quiet about it."

His fingers covered yours, and you met his eyes again as he said, "If it would make you unhappy, you don't have to leave. We can find you another show."

"No," you whispered, shaking your head. "I want to do this. I want to help you. It's just…" Trailing off, you tried to find the right words.

Coriolanus lifted your hands to his mouth, kissing each before putting them back down. "What is it? I can fix it, whatever's holding you back."

"I'm just scared." You rubbed your forehead. "I don't want to ruin this for you."

"You couldn't," he soothed, but you shook your head again.

"We come from two different places, Coryo." You played with one of his hands, eyes following each bone and vein. "I grew up with the possibility of losing everything. They might not like seeing somebody like me with you."

"Darling-" he started, using his thumb to lift your chin so you'd meet his eyes. "-you're an assett. Anybody who can't see it doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you."

"This is an election, Coryo," you insisted, searching his face for any trace of hindrance. "The outcome depends on people liking what they see."

"The people adore you," he protested, voice steady. "You're a symbol of hope. Sweetheart-" he thumbed your cheek fondly. "-there's nobody else I'd want by my side."

You smiled softly, covering his hand with yours. "Really?"

"Of course," he promised. Coriolanus got to his feet, helping you up with him. He adjusted your dressing gown, and the little act of intimacy made your heart stutter. "You underestimate how much they love you. How much I love you."

"I love you," you said quietly, and he pressed his lips to your forehead, your hands held between your chests. When you parted, you looked up into his eyes again. "I'm ready."

His smile sparked your own, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Let's get you dressed."

You replaced your dressing gown with an elegant slip dress in a modest black, a coat lined with fur on top. Even though it was still summer, it was an elegant look for a late night. Coriolanus adjusted your lapels, looking pleased. "Beautiful." He positioned your bouquet of roses in one arm, holding out the other for you. You slipped your hand into his elbow, taking in deep breaths. Everything you could fit was in your purse, and the rest of your belongings would be sent over tomorrow.

He guided you through the hallway, and you walked beside him in a dreamy daze. It always felt so safe at his side for more reasons than his status. Just as you reached the doors, he turned to you, holding your gaze. You nodded once you realized what he was asking, and he pushed the door open.

Instantly, you were blinded by the crush of cameras flashing, squinting and turning away into him. Coriolanus handled it better, holding you steady and pushing through the crowd. A million questions were shouted at you, but you didn't register any of it. Even though you maintained your smile, you were relieved when the car came into view. Security opened the door, and Coriolanus helped you inside, waving at the press before getting in behind you.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, you snuggled into his arms, finally able to close your eyes. "We did it."

"The papers will do the rest of the work," he soothed, stroking your hair. "You can rest." Guiding your head into his lap, his fingers worked at your head carefully, soothing the ache beginning to form. "Yours?"

"Mmhm," you hummed, and he relayed it to the driver. You nuzzled your cheek into his thigh, tucking your legs up on the seat. "I hope they say good things."

"They always say good things about you."

"No, about you," you corrected, locking your fingers between his. "Coryo, what will they say if you're connected to someone like me?"

"Someone beloved-"

"I've been so open about my past," you worried, starting to sit up from his lap. "I don't want it to ruin anything."

Coryo soothed you, gently pressing on your head so you'd lay back down. "Shh, don't you worry about that." He stroked your hair, voice comforting. "You've had an exciting night. You deserve to rest, darling."

Your protests died on your tongue, and you closed your eyes. He was right, you were exhausted, and it felt so nice to be able to relax. Right now, you weren't going over lines in your head or trying to gather your schedule for tomorrow. Coriolanus had you. He was going to take care of whatever else came tonight.

When the car came to a stop outside your building, he gave your hair one last smooth, taking you into his arms and pulling you across his lap. The driver opened the door, and you wrapped your arms around Coriolanus' neck as he lifted you easily. You felt silly, and tried to slip down, but he held firm. "You're tired, sweetheart. Let me help."

He brought you all the way up to your apartment, only setting you down once you were in your room. Stretching, you made for your chest of drawers, pulling out one of Coriolanus' favorite nightdresses. It was scarlet, with white lace at the hem. It was comfortable as well as pretty.

Holding it up against yourself, you twirled once. "What do you think?"

Coriolanus' arms were folded, an amused look on his face. "You know you're beautiful in anything."

Giggling, you disappeared into your bathroom, shutting the door behind you. Through the walls, you could hear him sigh, and it made you laugh some more. As a result, you took your time changing and brushing your hair. When you emerged, he had removed his clothes and settled on his usual side of your bed, covers drawn over his legs, book in hand. You noticed his shirt and slacks folded neatly on the chair beside your dresser.

When he looked up, you were sitting at the foot of the bed, watching him with a fond smile. One corner of his mouth turned up, and you batted your eyelashes playfully. He held out a hand, and you ignored it, crawling forward into your spot and flopping down onto your stomach, face buried in your pillow.

In an instant, his warm palm was on your back, rubbing ever so slightly. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"Sleepy." Your voice was muffled. He dragged the covers out from underneath you, pulling them over your legs.

When he stretched his arm out over the pillow, you snuggled into him in the blink of an eye. Coriolanus was always warm enough that you didn't need your usual pile of blankets. It was always when you were like this, nestled up into him, that you could feel what he wouldn't tell you. Sometimes it was tension or frustration, rarely at you though. Tonight, he was happy. It made you smile into his chest, pressing your lips over his heart.

There was a thump on the bed, and you smiled as your cat padded over, kneading at the covers and purring like a motor. You giggled, reaching for Fish as he laid down at your side. He was so snuggly when you came home late.

Coriolanus grunted. "On the bed?"

"You like cats," you pouted, scratching Fish under his neck.

"Yes, but he's a menace." When Coriolanus tried to reach out, Fish batted at his fingers, turning to lay on his back.

"He's just playing." To satisfy Coriolanus, you laid your hand back on his chest. "I think he likes you."

"If he liked me, he wouldn't attack me every time I set foot in your home," he grumbled, settling for an arm around you. "Cats are usually nicer to me."

"Oh, darling," you cooed, nuzzling your head into his chest. "Maybe we can get a friend for Fish. And you can come to the shelter to make sure the cat is up to your standards."

"Perhaps when you move in, we can look into it," he suggested, and you lifted your head, brow furrowed. His thumb smoothed it as you rolled to sit up on your elbows.

"Move in?" Now he was pushing your hair behind your shoulder. "Coryo-"

"I don't want you to have to worry about rent," he muttered, and you softened. "Besides, I want you close during all of this. If you start living with me, they'll see I'm serious about you."

"Are you?"

"Yes." He guided your head back down to his shoulder.

A secret smile played at your lips as you thought about it. "Is there a ring hidden somewhere in your home?"

"Perhaps." Coriolanus pulled your blanket up over your shoulders. "But you'll have to be patient."

"It's been a year of seeing you in secret," you mumbled. "I'm as patient as could be."

"I suppose this is the downside of revealing us to the public," he thought out loud. "Every reason we kept quiet will come true."

"The press, our privacy…" you sighed, and he kissed the top of your head.

"I have security hired, sweetheart. I don't want you to worry about a single thing." He held you close, palm over the side of your head. "You've finished your show. All you need to do now is rest. I'll take care of everything else."

The assurance was one you wanted to fight, insist that you could help too, but his voice was calling your sleep for you. It was an argument to save for another time. You snuggled close, his arms your haven as you let sleep smooth your eyes shut.

The dress was long, past your knees, and a deep red. Working in entertainment, you weren't used to having your shoulders covered, but here you were, smoothing this smooth, expensive fabric and straightening the bow at your neckline. The tails in black velvet fell past your chest, and there was a rosette at the knot of it. Coriolanus assured you that you were beautiful. He gave you his arm the second the two of you stepped out for your television appearance, and you didn't let go of it once.

Your smile was constant, just like you'd planned, and you hoped it didn't look fake. Coriolanus was speaking to the interviewer, saying something you couldn't make out because your ears were ringing. It all came to a halt when the sound of your name cut through.

Sitting up straight, your eyes flew to meet the interviewer's, a small smile fixed on your lips. He nodded ever so slightly before asking his question. "You've chosen to align yourself with Mr. Snow by revealing your secret relationship before the upcoming election. What is your position in all this?"

Breathing in softly, you squeezed Coriolanus' arm. "I did so in the hopes that the people of the Capitol will see what I see in him."

"And what is that?" the interviewer pressed.

"He takes care of what and who he cares about." You lifted your chin ever so slightly. "This power is a heavy responsibility, and he is ready to carry it. He is willing."

You could feel his pride beaming next to you. The interviewer said something else, and you heard yourself respond. Thank heavens you had experience on camera, or you zoning out could have been disastrous.

Coriolanus had the sense to guide you offstage, and the second you were alone, he bent his neck to press his lips to yours. "You were brilliant, darling."

"You did all of the talking," you smiled, smoothing a strand of hair from his face.

He brought your hands to his lips. "You've done more for me than you could ever know just by standing next to me." Coriolanus cupped your cheek in one palm, searching your eyes. "In more ways than one."

Coriolanus Snow wasn't a man who easily expressed his feelings. He did so more through his actions than his words, but you could feel every bit of his adoration. What he was saying right now was setting your heart on fire, his touch as gently as a butterfly's. Your smile was wide, and you clung to his arm even when you were safely tucked into the car. It felt impossible to stop touching him, and he didn't fight it.

You collapsed back into the mattress once you made it to the bedroom, letting your eyes flutter shut. It had been a long week of radio shows and interviews and appearances at various restaurants and charities. The next two days were a respite from it all, and you were looking forward to snuggling up to Coryo and catching up on your reading.

He appeared behind you, rubbing your side and kissing the back of your shoulder. "I have a surprise for you."

"Hm?" You tilted your head back.

"Do you want to change first?" he asked.

"No," you said, shaking your head. "Whatever the surprise is, I feel pretty enough."

Coriolanus kissed your crown, getting off the bed. You heard footsteps, and then rummaging around. Settling in, you closed your eyes, trying to imagine what he could possibly be doing.

When you rolled over, he was on his knees at your side, holding a little red box in one hand. Your eyes widened, and you sat up, smoothing your hair on one side. "Coryo-"

"I've been meaning to give this to you for quite some time. After tonight, though, I want everyone to see you wearing it." Coriolanus opened the box, revealing the thin gold band with a massive diamond affixed to it. You couldn't help your gasp, hand flying to your mouth, tears welling up in your eyes.

He got off his knees, sitting beside you on the bed. A tear slipped from your eye, and he thumbed it away. "You know how much I love you?"

Voice choked, you nodded, lower lip trembling. Coriolanus cupped your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb. "Sweetheart, you're the most important thing in my world. I love you, and I want to marry you . I want you to be mine forever."

"I want to marry you," you breathed, eyes fixed on his boundless blue ones. "I love you, Coryo. I love you so much."

He promptly removed the ring from its box, and you held out your left hand. Coriolanus held your hand steady as he slid the ring on. He lifted your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

"I love you," you got out again, throwing your arms around him.

"I love you, darling," he muttered, kissing your hair and clasping you tight. "No matter what, you are going to be safe forever."

The press devoured any picture they could get of the rock on your finger. You couldn't help wanting to flaunt it. Coriolanus had picked the absolute perfect ring, and you knew you would never stop loving it.

He introduced you as his fiancée right away, and it filled you with a happy glow. Every time he affirmed that you were wanted, needed by him, your heart sang.

It felt impossible for you to be more protected by him, but the ring on your finger seemed to light a fire in him. He always wanted to be touching you. His heart was in the right place, you knew. You tried to remind yourself of that when he glared a little too long at a man merely for looking, let alone talking to you.

"They don't know when to stop," he grumbled one night as the two of you undressed. You were still getting used to the thrill of seeing all your clothes in his closet, not just the things he kept here in case you wanted to stay over. Getting into bed next to you, he sighed when you snuggled into his chest.

"I thought you wanted the people to love me," you mumbled.

"The people, yes. The slimy men who're only invited to these events for their money can stay far away from you." Coriolanus' arms were tight and strong around you, like armor.

You giggled, drumming your fingers on his chest. "It's nice being protected for once."

"Hm?" He looked down at you, smoothing your hair.

"When I first started out, nobody really cared what happened to me," you said softly.

He pressed his mouth into your head. "I won't ever let it happen again, sweetheart."

"I know you won't." You kissed his chest.

You knew it was the election taking such a toll on him. He grabbed to the things he knew, and you were one of them. Coriolanus would come home late, looking more exhausted than you'd ever seen him, and you'd lay on top of him, his arms heavy over you. He insisted he liked the weight, that it was comfortable.

Those nights were sometimes your favorites. Where he'd only want to cuddle and spend the night in with you. You would request his favorites from the kitchen and watch something old.

He made sure you stayed fed even though you stressed over each headline, worrying about what more you could be doing for the campaign.

"You're perfect," he said softly, rubbing your back. Your monthly had arrived that day, meaning you'd had to make it through a charity gala with debilitating cramps. Now his warm hands were at your sides, soothing your hurt. "I wouldn't have made it this far without you, sweetheart."

Though you refused to let yourself fully admit it, there was a part of you that knew it was true. Coriolanus didn't let you read all press about you in worries that it would impact you in any negative way, but from what you did see, his approval ratings had spiked since your engagement. Was the Capitol really built so that seeing someone from nothing on his arm garnered approval? You supposed so. There was no other way to see it.

This election was providing you with reasons to do things you were passionate about, things you could afford to do. When you brought up finding a friend for Fish again, Coriolanus scheduled an event at a local shelter. You loved the idea of making a difference for animals and more, and hopefully if he was elected, you'd be able to do more of it.

The two of you played with cats for hours, letting people take pictures of you as you decided on a beautiful calico named Willow. She had purred her way into Coriolanus' heart, and he'd been unable to hide his smile as she rubbed her cheek on his fingers.

As you watched her cuddle into your feet that night, you rubbed his chest soothingly. "She's perfect, Coryo."

He kissed your hair. "I told you that cats love me."

"Well…" you smiled fondly. "We can call Fish a special case."

Coriolanus adjusted you in his arms. "I'm just grateful Fish can't vote."

You woke up to the phone ringing.

It was late when you'd convinced Coriolanus to lay down with you and close his eyes. Worrying and staying awake wouldn't make the news come any faster.

He tried to reach for the phone gently, and you stayed perfectly still, his heart beating a pattern into your ear. His hand on your back curled into itself, and you pressed your lips into his chest, the slightest attempt at calming him.

Coriolanus said something quiet that you couldn't hear, and then there was the click of hanging up. You couldn't resist lifting your head as he turned on the bedside lamp. "What happened?"

His smile was your sun. You sat up on his chest, and he trailed his fingers through your hair. "You're serious?"

It only took a single nod from him for you to throw yourself into him, your face buried in his neck. He kissed the top of your head once, then again. "You won this for me. You're the reason for everything."

"No," you tried, but he pulled back, blue eyes serious.

"I wouldn't be anything without you. You've succeeded as much, if not more than I have." You could have cried with the way he was looking at you. Coriolanus cupped your cheek, and you could feel the fire in him as if he were a hearth. "If they don't adore us, they will envy us."

You couldn't help your smile. "Maybe even both."

He seized you closer, crushing his lips down on yours in a kiss that stopped time. You found heaven in his arms, in those hours of the morning when nobody cared about loving you except for the man in front of you.

This felt like when he'd sneak into your dressing room after one of your shows, praising your performance in ways you were sure you didn't deserve. It burned into your soul this time though. The applause was in the results. You were breathtaking.

[hoe-in-deepspace]

Caught Red-Handed Part 2

Zayne x F!Reader

[ Part 1 ]

A/N: Sorry this took so fucking long y'all 😭 I'm great at imagining the scenario in my head but holy shit it's so hard to translate that to words. Also this is veryyyyy self indulgent so hopefully y'all still like it. I just needed to slip in Xavi and HSR for absolutely no other reason than that I like them 😬

CW: 18+ SMUT MDNI, titty fucking, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, cum marking, cream pie, cum eating, ZAYNE LIKES IT MESSY

Taglist: @dawnbreakerbrokeme @syluslittlecrows

After an agonizingly long week of waiting, Saturday was finally here. You had been looking forward to your date with Zayne all week. Even going so far as to plan out your outfit several days in advance. As the day got closer you got more excited but what you didn't expect was the overwhelming amount of anxiety that kicked in the morning of.

You had the day off but Zayne was scheduled for a surgery that afternoon so you had several hours to kill before your date. You shoot Zayne a text wishing him luck with his surgery before hastily putting your phone down and searching for something to busy your mind and hopefully stave off your anxiety. You settle on finally trying out that game your friend Xavier had told you about a few weeks ago that you hadn't found the time to try out yet. Focusing on learning a new game should definitely take your mind off things.

~

You had been playing the game for a while when you suddenly received a call from Xavier. Letting the game idle on the character menu screen you answer the call.

"Hey Xavier, what's up?"

"Hey y/n, I see you started playing the game I told you about. How are you liking it so far?"

Your brows furrow in confusion for a moment before you remember the gaming system feature that lets your friends see what you're currently playing. He must have logged on and saw what you were playing.

"Oh I like it a lot so far! The story is interesting and I'm enjoying the battle system. The characters are also really cool! I've started taking a liking to the black hair guy and the guy with the glasses on the train." you excitedly ramble.

While you were talking you decided to check if Zayne had texted you back. Your heart warms as you see his message of thanks along with an "I'm looking forward to seeing you tonight"

You hear a chuckle from the other end of the line. Before you have the chance to ask what's so funny, Xavier speaks. "Dan Heng and Welt are their names. I had a feeling that you would like those two. Afterall, they do seem similar to that doctor friend of yours that you like to talk about." he says with a teasing tone.

"I don't talk about him that much!" you say defensively which only serves to draw out more lighthearted laughter from Xavier.

Speaking of Zayne, you check the time and realize it's about time for you to start getting ready for your date. You hadn't told Xavier about your date yet and ultimately decided you'd wait to bring it up until after the date in case things don't go well. After his laughter dies down you promptly let him know that you need to go and that you'll talk to him tomorrow before exchanging goodbyes.

After hanging up, you reply to Zayne's message letting him know you're looking forward to the date as well and end the message with a cute heart emoji to really drive the point across. You hit send then make your way to the bathroom to shower.

~

20 minutes. You have only 20 minutes before Zayne is supposed to pick you up for your date and yet here you are changing into a different dress for the umpteenth time in the last hour. You had already planned which dress you wanted to wear but when you put it on and looked in the mirror doubt started to creep in. Was the dress too much? Perhaps it showed too much skin? Maybe you should opt for a different color dress? Or even a different style of dress? Questions plagued your anxious mind with each and every dress you slipped into. Frustration taking over you unzip your current dress and let it fall to the floor.

Letting out a sigh you walk back over to your bed where all the previously rejected dresses lie. One of these has got to work seeing as how you have no other dresses left to try. As you stand there in only your red lace bra and matching underwear your eyes scan over each of the dresses meticulously. Eventually you decide on the dress you originally planned to wear tonight. It was a long black dress with a slit that revealed a tasteful amount of your bare leg. The neckline dipped in a way that allowed only a sliver of your cleavage to be seen but enough to leave any who look your way wanting more. The dress hugged your curves gently to give you a more defined shape without being skintight. You loved how the dress made you feel but there was still a part of you that wondered if this was the right choice for tonight.

Before you know it, you hear a knock on the door. You quickly glance at the time as you make your way to answer it. It was 8:00PM on the dot. You should've expected as much from Zayne as he isn't one to keep you waiting without a valid reason. You on the other hand had lost track of time and still needed to put your shoes on and grab your bag before you two could leave. Pulling open the door wide enough to let Zayne through you greet him and let him know of the delay.

Zayne was quiet for a moment before clearing his throat and adjusting his tie as he looked away. "It's quite alright. We'll have plenty of time to make it to the restaurant before our reservation." Zayne's ears are tinged with a pretty pink flush and he thanks his lucky stars that you're too focused on grabbing your things to notice the effect you're having on him. As soon as you opened the door his eyes were glued to you. If you had looked close enough you would have seen the way his eyes widened ever so slightly at your breathtaking appearance. Zayne always thought you looked beautiful but tonight something was different. He had seen you dressed up before but it never felt like this. He racked his brain until the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. This is the first time you wore something like this for him. That thought alone is doing a number on him if the growing tightness of his pants is any indication. It's a good thing he decided to wear black slacks for your date.

As soon as you sit down on the couch to put your shoes on Zayne is already kneeling down beside you with an outstretched hand as a silent offer. "Allow me" he whispers while looking up at you with a small smile on his face. You feel your cheeks heat up as you hand him your heels with a quiet 'thank you'. With a gentle grip on your lower calf Zayne slides the heel onto your foot with ease before doing the same on the other side. Once both shoes are on and secured Zayne stands up and offers his hand to you which you gladly take.

"You look beautiful tonight." Zayne breathes out as you walk to his car together hand in hand. "Are you saying I don't look beautiful every night?" you half-heartedly joke as all the previous anxiety and worries had slipped away. Zayne always had a calming effect on you. Whenever he was near you knew everything was going to be okay. Your anxiety's departure made way for one of your favorite pass times: teasing Zayne.

You both chuckle at your poor attempt at a joke and before you can thank him for the compliment he unexpectedly speaks. "You're always beautiful in my eyes." Heat once again blooms on your face at the sudden confession. With a shy smile on your face you thank him and decide to give him something to blush about. "You know I didn't think it was possible for Dr. Zayne to get any more handsome than he already is but you really proved me wrong tonight." Your smile widens as you notice Zayne's cute telltale signs of being flustered. Mission accomplished.

~

Dinner went great. You both chatted lively about various topics while enjoying the delicious meal. Zayne offered to let you try his food, you gave him a bite of your own, and eventually you decided on sharing a dessert. It only seemed right after you had spent the entire night sharing. Sharing food, sharing laughs, sharing stories, sharing longing glances, sharing flirtatious comments, just an abundance of sharing between the two of you. The best part: it all felt so natural as if you were always meant to share your lives with each other. And the sharing didn't stop there. On the contrary, you two would be reaching a new level of sharing tonight. The kind you both yearned for but were too afraid to initiate.

There was a certain tension between the two of you that steadily rose as the night went on. The kind of tension that makes you dizzy with want and pulls at something deep inside you until you have no choice but to unravel.

Both of you managed to keep your composure despite the primal urges inside that were threatening to rip you apart to get to what they want. But all that composure and self control went straight out the window as soon as you entered Zayne's home.

The very second the door clicked shut Zayne's lips found yours with the speed and precision of a man on a mission. The sudden kiss made you step back in surprise just enough for your back to be pressed against the door. Zayne leaned forward with you to keep your lips from leaving his. As the realization of what's going on hits you you kiss back with a feverish passion. Zayne's hands find your waist as your arms snake around his neck to pull him closer. His grip on you instinctively tightens when you run your tongue across his bottom lip. The action pulls a low moan from him allowing you to slip your eager tongue into his mouth. Your tongues mingle together before deciding to explore the other's warm and wet mouth.

Muffled moans and heavy breathing are the only sounds that can be heard in the otherwise quiet house. Zayne reluctantly pulls back from the kiss to catch his breath but you lean forward to follow his lips and get a few more light pecks. Zayne chuckles lowly as you finally pull back so you can both catch your breath. Wasting no time, Zayne hoists you up by your thighs so your legs wrap around him.

"Bedroom?" he questions while kissing your neck.

"Yes" you moan back in response.

Zayne quickly carries you in the direction of the stairs while your hands are busy unbuttoning his shirt and kissing his neck. Two loud thuds are heard as you kick off your heels and they fall to the floor. As he's walking up the stairs you bite the sensitive spot where his neck and shoulder meet causing him to misstep and fall forward. The arm around your back tightens as Zayne uses his other arm to catch himself before your back has the chance to meet the steps below. He gently sets you down on the stairs with the intention of making sure you're okay but you have other plans.

When Zayne's arms are no longer around you you pull his now fully unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and down his arms letting it fall to the floor. You then sit up momentarily to once again cature his lips with yours before guiding him back down on top of you. He uses his arms to brace himself on the stairs on either side of you. Zayne grunts against your lips as your knee gently brushes his growing erection. Your hands wander over his bare chest trying to memorize how it feels as if this were the last time you'd ever get the chance.

When your hands make their way to his belt he pulls back just enough to utter a breathless 'not here'. Before you can respond he's picking you up and carrying you the rest of the way up the stairs.

"Your back will thank me in the morning" he says as he plants a kiss on your temple.

When you finally make it to the bedroom Zayne lays you down on his bed and kicks off his shoes before crawling on top and strattling you. His lips are on yours once again while his left hand carresses your cheek. His right hand slides up from your thigh to your hip and up your side until it splays out over your breast. You let out a satisfied moan as he begins massaging your breast and dragging his thumb over your erect nipple.

Zayne breaks away from your lips to leave a trail of kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He craves your lips but what he craves even more is hearing those sweet sounds you're making for him. He'll happily put his mouth elsewhere on you if it means he gets the honor of hearing more of your pretty moans.

As things were heating up, your need to feel Zayne's skin against yours grew with each passing second. While Zayne was busy attacking your neck with a combination of bites, kisses, and licks, you reached behind you frantically trying to slide down the zipper of your dress. Having no luck with the zipper you let out a frustrated whine which catches Zayne's attention.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" he asks in a soft tone as he looks at you with concern evident on his face. "I can't get the zipper down" you say pointing to your dress. He lets out a relieved sigh before helping you sit up and unzipping your dress with ease. You lay back down as he pulls the dress off your shoulders. As he's pulling it down your torso his eyes instantly fall upon the red surprise underneath and all movement stops.

You wore the red lace bra. The one you had previously caught him fondling in your bedroom. His face heats up at the memory but his eyes never leave the garment. The overwhelming urge to touch comes back with a vengeance as he's now got the added bonus of seeing you wearing the bra. He needs to touch you. To feel the delicate fabric, warmed by your soft breasts, beneath his fingertips. No, he needs to do more than just touch with his hands. He lets out a shaky breath. Within seconds his lower body is stripped of it's remaining clothes and his aching cock finally springs free from the tight confines of his slacks.

You watch all this unfold before your eyes and immediately know what it is that Zayne wants. To encourage him to take what he wants you push your breasts together to create an opening underneath the bra for him to slide in. Zayne looks at you hesitantly. "Are you sure?" You smile and nod with a small 'yes' and that's all he needs to finally let himself give in to his desires.

Zayne spits into his palm and lathers it up and down his length. Spit and precum mix together to create a makeshift lube. Once he's thoroughly slicked he slides his cock beneath your lace bra and between your pushed together breasts. He feels your warmth immediately and lets out a low grunt. His cock slides back and forth between your breasts at a slow pace. Each slow drag of his cock against your skin leaves him breathless and needing more.

He places his hands over your own and pushes your breasts even closer together all while continuing his agonizingly slow strokes. The new tightness around his length causes him to squeeze his eyes shut and a moan to escape his kiss swollen lips. His pace quickens as he feels his pleasure rising.

The sound of moans and grunts fill the air as you watch Zayne with a hungry gaze. You watch his face contort with pleasure, the likes of which you've never seen before. The man who's usually small smiles, raised eyebrows and subtle expressions is now on top of you making the most expressive faces all in the name of pleasure. Pleasure that he's getting from your body. You feel your panties getting wetter by the second as your arousal soaks them.

His climax is coming. He can feel it building inside him as he watches his cock repeatedly thrust itself between your now spit and precum slicked breasts. He wants so badly to paint your beautiful breasts (and that damn lace bra) with his cum. He wants it so bad that that's all he can think about in this moment. His hips continue thrusting while his mind wonders to how you'll look with his cum adorning your skin.

The plan was to pull out just before his climax so he could aim his cock to spray your tits with his cum. That was the plan. But plans don't always go the way they're supposed to, do they? Zayne was getting closer and closer to his climax and you could see it on his face. The way his breath and thrusts quickened as if he were desperately chasing his release. Wanting to help him reach that sweet bliss, you decide to match his thrusts by dragging your pinned breasts along his leaking cock in the opposite direction of his thrust. This unexpected action sends a wave of pleasure through Zayne's body thus pushing him over the edge. Cum shoots out of his tip and splatters across your chest and neck. A long and breathless moan accompanies his sudden release. The sight and feel of his hot release on your skin leaves you panting and begging to be touched where you need it most.

"Zayne please" you whine as tears that threaten to fall cling to your lashes. You need him and you need him NOW.

Zayne wastes no time promptly sliding his cock out from between your breasts and makes his way down to settle between your legs. Along the way he pulls your dress the rest of the way off leaving soothing kisses over the newly uncovered skin. When he reaches your panties he lets out a small chuckle and looks up at you with a hungry gaze.

"Your panties match. How cute."

With a wicked smirk Zayne takes the band of your panties between his teeth and pulls them down, his eyes staying locked with yours the whole way. A whimper escapes you as you tell him to stop teasing you.

Zayne lets out a low chuckle before digging in to his second dessert of the night: you. His tongue licks a stripe from your sopping wet entrance to your aching clit. You gasp while Zayne can't help but moan into your skin.

"So sweet for me" he mumbles as his eyes flutter shut. His tongue begins swirling around your puffy clit before sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth. One hand splays across your hips to keep you in place while the other finds it's way to your dripping cunt. He starts with one finger before sliding in the second. His long fingers stretch you open as they glide in and out with ease.

Your pleasure rises with each pass of Zayne's tongue over your clit. Switching between licking and sucking all while his fingers fuck into you at a brutal pace.

Moans and filthy slick sounds fill the air as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of pure bliss and ecstacy. You thread your hands into his hair desperately trying to ground yourself. When Zayne's fingers hit a certain spot inside you you instinctively tighten your grip on his hair drawing out a low moan. That moan is what finally sends you over the edge.

Pleasure surges throughout your body as Zayne's fingers and tongue fuck you through your high. Your thighs can't help but clench together as your orgasm washes over you. Zayne feels as though he's died and gone to heaven with the way your thighs are squeezing his head and keeping his face buried in your delicious cunt.

When you eventually come down from your high and release Zayne from your grip he immediately comes up to capture you in a passionate kiss. You taste remnants of your cum mixed with his spit as his tongue makes it's way into your open mouth. His cum soaked hand gently carresses your cheek as he deepens the kiss further. You feel his hardened cock pressing against your thigh as he desperately grinds against you.

"Mhm...need you..." he breathes out between kisses. The desperation in his voice makes your pussy ache with need. You reach down to grab his cock and slide it between your wet folds before lining him up with your entrance. A broken moan reaches your ears as Zayne buries his head in your neck.

His tip kisses your entrance then slowly slides in inch by inch stretching you out around him. A small whine escapes you as he bottoms out.

"Are you alright?" he asks as he nuzzles his face further into your neck. You assure him you're okay and give him the green light to start moving. He starts off with long languid strokes allowing you to get used to the stretch. Once he sees there's no issues he picks up the pace.

His hips grind into you with a growing level of desperation. Loud breathes and noises once again fill the room. Your grunts and moans piece together to create a symphony of pleasure.

The closer to his release he gets the more desperate he feels. Zayne begins kissing and licking your neck that's still covered in his drying cum from earlier. All the previous nuzzling and kissing left smears of his own cum across his lips and cheeks which mixed with your cum that was still on his face. There was cum and slick all over both of you which only served to spur him on. Zayne picks up the pace, his cock plunging into you with a renewed vigor.

Before you know it you're both strattling the edge of your climax. Zayne's fingers find your clit, massaging it with just the right amount of pressure to have you seeing stars. You feel your orgasm approaching with speed before it suddenly crashes over you sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Zayne's not far behind. After a few more strokes his hips stutter and his hot cum paints your fluttering walls. Exhausted, Zayne collapses on top of you. The room goes quiet except for the sound of heavy breathing.

After you both calm down Zayne pulls out and lays down on his side next to you but not before he pushes his leaking cum back into you where it belongs. He props his head up with one hand and gently strokes your hip with the other.

Zayne's the first to speak up. "How are you feeling? I didn't hurt you did I?" He eyes you with a mix of concern and adoration.

"No, that was amazing." you say with a blissfully fucked out smile on your face.

A small smile appears on Zayne's face. "Indeed it was. Though we should probably shower." he says as he looks down at the mess you two made.

"You're probably right." you chuckle as you wipe a bit of cum from his cheek.

Zayne gets up and walks to the bathroom to turn on the shower allowing it to warm up before coming back to pick you up and carry you bridal style to the bathroom. Once in the shower Zayne gently washes you being sure to plant soft kisses to your freshly cleaned skin. The whole ordeal is very relaxing.

After showering he dries you both off and carries you back to his bedroom where he helps you dress in one of his large T-shirts and a pair of his boxer briefs.

Zayne quickly changes out the stained bed sheets for fresh ones. The excitement of the day finally catching up to you you climb beneath the covers hoping to rest and Zayne follows. He motions for you to lay on his chest which you happily do. Your legs tangle together beneath the blankets as you listen to his heart beating next to your ear. Zayne's fingers lightly carding through your hair is what finally lulls you into a peaceful sleep.

Dividers: enchanthings

[rcmclachlan]

wip word game

rules: share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of the word you've been given!

I was tagged by @harmless-variety-of-garden-snake with the word "BLIP" and by @26-cats-in-a-trenchcoat with the word "TREAT". Thanks, y'all!

Everything is from my angsty wip, which I'm hoping to finish within the next couple of weeks (barring any major edits/re-writes). You may have seen some of these sentences in the snippets I've posted before.

+

B - Buck bites down on the sour grape of guilt, because that's even worse. Of course Tommy didn't call. Why would he? He knew Buck wouldn't pick up.

L - Listening to Tommy struggle to get the words out feels like a physical pain Buck has to endure. He hunches over his knees and closes his eyes, like maybe he can get under the broken flow of it, just let it pass over his head like the wind instead of knocking him around like that first wave on the pier.

I - If Buck weren't already sitting on the floor, that would have put him there with the same unerring force as Aaron Mendoza's fist.

P - "Plus, we've only mapped, like, 5% of the ocean. There are things in there, Evan. Feel free to stop laughing at any time."

T - There are probably only two or three more vibrations to go before the call ends. He watches the screen flash again. The T. Kinard looks strange. If he didn't know better, he'd think it was a spam call. Who even is 'T. Kinard'? It's supposed to say Jaw of Gibraltar ❤️.

R - Running a hand through his hair, which is long enough now that he can get a really good grip on it, Buck stares at the floor. There's a hairline crack in the tile.

E - Every time his phone buzzes with a new photo from Maddie or Chim, he thinks about throwing it into the garbage disposal.

A - "A good pair of socks will get you through pretty much anything."

T - Tommy had signed up for it because Buck complained one too many times about hitting the limit of their free articles. When he gave Buck the login credentials, he grinned and said, "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this paywall."

+

No pressure tags for the usual suspects: @geddyqueer, @leashybebes, @firehose118, @dharmaavocado, @screamlet, @cecilyv, @liminalmemories21, @freneticfloetry, @beanarie, @setmeatopthepyre, @adiprose, @beefcakekinard, @politenotice, @station18908, @ambernotember, @thegingerparty, @apollabarnes, @devirnis, and @epiphainie. Your word is GLACIER.

[devil-howl]

how many, where and in what moon phase, do I have to sacrifice to make you consider cooking up another Patty&Dante post?

Patty has spent her whole life wondering if Dante hated her. And she's never content with what ifs.

He's back home, still recovering... not that he was injured, but he always kind of struggled once getting back. Lost weight. Long hair and scruffy beard. Mostly just getting through the day. The weird thing was how he worked, though, there wasn't that bright jubilation and laughter. It was uncharacteristically serious and mellow. But even if he wasn't able to work, Patty would pay for everything. Anything. Just for a little attention.

One day as it's cloudy, a little rainy, Nero, Nico, Kyrie, and Patty were helping out Dante get his place living-ready again. It's been getting rough and dusty. Dante kept trying to get up to help, but Patty shoved him down. Kyrie tucked a blanket over his shoulders. They'd ask him if he wanted this thing, or that thing, but otherwise he mostly just sat there. Nico even left to come back with some of his favorites, giving him a friendly side-hug.

As it's getting late, Nero watches the sky, saying they should all get headed home. Patty says that she wants to finish up, so they can go home, and she'll get a taxi.

Dante says nothing, but he spots the bag she brought. A backpack. Clearly stuffed a bit full, tight and barely able to hold itself shut with a strained zipper.

When the rain turns into a thundrous storm where going outside, much less driving, was horribly discouraged, he put together she absolutely planned this. But with a smile on her face, she brought treats and snacks.

"Let's make it a sleepover!" She cheers, and Dante just laughs. The couch is turned into a pillow fort, and Patty is wearing a two-piece pajama outfit, long and silky with pant legs that drag on the floor. Like a little kid again, Dante thinks fondly, when Nina would bring her over to visit, and Patty would fall asleep with one of his jackets, and he'd crack, just letting her take it, even if it didn't fit in the slightest.

Popcorn, candy, soda, all sorts of things, as a movie is playing.

It's nothing crazy, but Patty's smiles fade. Dante quietly questions what's wrong. She stares at him for a moment,

"Why don't you like me?"

Dante freezes, his mouth dry- how the fuck do you answer something like that?

"I do like you," He corrects, "What's wrong?"

"But you never want me around." She argued, melancholy replaced with anger, "I always reach out but you never want anything to do with me, I... I'm always trying, but you never let me do anything. You just shoo me away with everyone else. You spend time with Nero, but... I've known you ten years longer. Doesn't that matter for anything?" She insists, "Is it because you're not my real dad? Because you are. You are my dad. You've always been my dad, even if you don't want to me. And you always will be, even when my mom gets remarried, and- and when you get married, and-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Dante soothes her spiralling demeanor, "I... It's not a blood thing, no." He consoles, "And... It's not like I'm out and about with Nero all the time. Even after I met him, I... mostly just kept an eye on a distance. I'm not good at being up-close and personal with people."

"Then be bad at it," Patty sobs, "Be bad at it, but just be here. I miss you. I'm talking to you but I still miss you."

Dante's heart hurts, "Pumpkin, I'm just... trying to keep you safe,"

"I don't want to be safe. I'm not a baby. I can fight. I learned to fight, even when you wouldn't teach me. Nero taught me! And Nico taught me to shoot!" She insisted. "Just let me be around you. Just let me stay. You don't need to like me, just pretend you do."

"No, nono, I do like you, I..." Dante is quiet.

Really quiet, as she stares him, anger, hurt, sorrow, waiting.

"... I'm a bit of a coward, Pat." He confessed. "I've tried so hard not to hurt you- but let me finish," He said quickly, knowing she might interrupt, "... I guess i fucked that up, too. You're big. You've grown. But it still feels like I'm watching a little eight year old running around with demons." He laughs. Stops. Frowns. "I never meant to make you think I didn't love you."

"... It's okay. You're you. I just... I don't want to keep missing you all the time. I just want my dad back."

With a soft whoosh of breath, he nodded.

"... I've gone through hell and back. A piece of me stayed in hell. And... Let's just say it was the dumb part of me, okay?" He said, grabbing her hand. Squeezing it just a little. "... I don't know if I'll succeed, but I'll try better."

Patty sniffles, and lurches forward, grabbing him in a hug. He sighs, holding her close. Rubbing her back.

"That's all I've ever wanted, dad..."

"... I know. I'll... try. For you, pumpkin."

There's a lingering silence, as Patty calms down, still leaning against him. Comforted as he finds the remote, finding something else to put on, idly speaking,

"But, just between you and me, don't be too cuddly around Nero. He'll get jealous."

"Sucks to be him."

"Nooo..."

[marigold-hills]

Your hands; mine (stalker Remus AU) part 18

PART 1 | PREVIOUS PART

Sirius gets his perfect tea. 

"You should try it with less sugar, too," Remus tells him. "It's even better."

"No thanks," Sirius drinks his tea when it's still too hot. The steam from his cup curls around his face and gets lost in a stray strand of hair escaped from the bun he has it up in. "It's my nicotine substitute."

"You're a smoker?" Remus hides the new bit of information in the same space where he put all the others. It feels like a hidden pocket in between his ribs, where they cover his heart. He knows that's a silly fancy - memories, Sirius related or not, are stored in the hippocampus. 

"Was a smoker. I quit when Harry was born."

Remus imagines it: Sirius, hands cupped against the wind, lighting a cigarette. Maybe, in this picture, Remus is holding the lighter for him and they have to stand closer so it doesn't blow out. Maybe it doesn't work and Remus takes the cigarette instead, puts it between his lips, and lights it for Sirius. Maybe when it catches Sirius takes it out of Remus' mouth and puts it in his own. Maybe he leaves his fingers there, pads against the skin. 

"You must have looked amazing when you smoked," Remus says. 

Sirius sputters on a sip of tea. 

Remus likes the armchaif he sits on when he visits Sirius. It's a pretty grey that soothes him, comfortable to sit on, large enough that he doesn't have to bunch up his awkwardly long legs. 

On every other morning he's spent here, it's been perfect. 

"It's only been four times," he says, standing up. 

"Four times?"

"Four mornings I've been here. Or maybe five, I suppose. With last Friday, if you count it, so the Saturday morning… let's not count it. Four mornings," he counts the days out on his fingers as he walks up to the sofa. "Would have been five but James was here on Wednesday."

Sirius is looking up at him, eyes wide and so pretty it takes Remus' breath from his lungs. "What are you doing?" he asks. His voice is the kind of cadence Remus never heard in it before.

"My hip is sore," Remus tells him. "Your lovely armchair is too small for today. I need to stretch my legs out." He goes to sit down but wobbles, and catches himself - one hand on the back of the sofa and the other on Sirius' knee. 

That's how close they would have been if Remus was lighting Sirius' cigarette for him. Close enough to see the colour of Sirius' eyes. Close enough to feel the smoke escaping Sirius' mouth. 

"I've never smoked," Remus says. 

"Alright?" Sirius has his gaze fixed on where Remus is holding onto his leg. 

Its not skin-to-skin. Remus feels the soft fabric of Sirius'grey joggers that he only ever wears at home.

"I'm sorry," he says, because his hand is touching Sirius and it's almost like a brand of filth. Bloody broken bottle, he thinks, and his hands don't feel like his own again. 

He let's himself tip to the side and land on the sofa next to Sirius. Their legs brush against each other. 

"Think I would have learnt," he says, mind floating back to Sirius' lips. "To smoke with you."

"That's… really not healthy," Sirius says. Remus doesn't think he's talking about the drawbacks of nicotine. 

"I don't think I'm very healthy about you," Remus tips his head back to get a batter look at Sirius. 

"And you just realise this now?"

Remus has so many things he wants to say: about the first time he saw Sirius, buying eggs and bread at his locals Sainsbury's, about the hospital trip after to heal the broken nose he got from walking into a shelf. Looking at you, he tries to say. 

"Looking at you," he says finally, "I forget about everything else."

It's almost what he means. Not quite there. There aren't words to explain all of it properly, at least not ones he knows. 

Sirius stays silent. Remus' hand lays limp by his side. 

"I don't know how to look at you," Sirius finally says. "There are so many things you make me remember."

"Any of them good?"

Remus is floating. Warm and comfortable, he stretches himself out. A blanket covers his legs. 

"Lots of them," Sirius says. "Doesn't mean I wanted to remember."

A hand covers his. 

"What's up with you today?" The voice is far and somewhere between concern and fondness. "Did you take something?"

"Front pocket of my bag. Painkillers. For my… everything."

"You should have stayed at home."

"Couldn't have. Had to make you tea."

The hand holding his own doesn't squeeze, but fingers brush down the length of his palm. It's a touch but more like a taste of one. 

"I've never wanted to taste anyone before I saw you," Remus says. Maybe he doesn't. 

"Every day you make it harder not to let you."

Tags!

@hoje--aqui

@rae-lune

@wickedcoeur

@shunstanpike

@floretissogay

@remoonysiriusly

@lunalovegoodsgirlfriend

@father-imperator

@brighterthanthou

@a-pine-cone

@annaliza999

@apcqlypse

@thabindery

@prancingpony42

@a-sunset-outside-my-window

@birdiesnest

[thezombieprostitute]

Royal Pain: Mistaken

Summary: A night at the opera.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, Bad parents, Fat shaming, Insecure reader. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is plus sized, female. No other physical descriptors used.

Previous

Series Masterlist

You're getting ready for another "date" with Ransom when your father knocks on your door, asking if you need anything. It's funny how, now that you've given him a ticket to rise in the royal ranks, he's suddenly concerned with your well-being. Well, not that concerned, otherwise he would have rejected Duchess Drysdale's marriage proposal on behalf of her son. But in all other areas of your life, he's become the father you wish you'd grown up with.

Instead of dwelling on the pain, you assure him you are okay and just need a few minutes.

You're unsure of what's planned for this outing but you find yourself not dreading it. Ransom has gotten better about showing up on time. The two of you have been sitting in comfortable silence more often than snipping at each other. Though you have noticed the silence occurs more often when you're holding Ransom's hand or have his arm wrapped around you. Best you can figure is that he doesn't want to ruin any photos taken of the two of you with a hateful look that calls your relationship into question. All physical "affection" is for the cameras, after all.

You step outside as Ransom's car pulls up and your eyes widen in surprise as Ransom actually gets out to open your door for you.

"Oh, thank you," you say with a nod.

"Gotta practice being the good fiance or whatever," he grumbles.

"Still, thank you," you reply, sitting down. When Ransom gets back into the driver's seat you add, "I really do appreciate the effort." He mumbles something that you can't quite make out and you decide to not push your luck.

Opting to switch topics, you ask, "so what's the plan for tonight?"

"Linda got us a couple tickets to an opera," he huffs, pulling a couple tickets out of his suit jacket pocket.

He hands them to you so you can see which opera and you let out a small gasp.

"We're going to see Lómëwen?"

"I guess." He sees you getting a little teary eyed and scrunches his face in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry, sorry," you sniffle a little as you shake your head. "I just...I've always wanted to see this! I have the soundtrack, but to see the show itself..."

"Eh, it's okay," he remarks, making you fall silent.

He can't let himself say it, but he regrets saying what he did. He's learned that he rather likes your voice. He just doesn't know how to get to you talk to him without it being an argument. It's why he's learned to shut up when you're gently caressing his hand or letting him put his arm around you. He finds himself liking your touch and he knows an argument will cause you to withhold. He can't tell you that he lies awake sometimes, missing your touch, your affirmations.

He also can't tell you that the opera was his idea, not Linda's. You'd made several references to Lómëwen on your previous outings. He'd figured taking you to the show would be a good idea. But he can't give himself credit for that, lest you find out he actually listens to you. He can't let his guard down.

"I trust you've been reading up on 'us'?" Ransom breaks the silence.

"Oh, yes," you look away from him. "They're calling me your 'Diamond in the Rough'."

"You sound disappointed to be my Diamond."

"I understand that it's important for your family to come off looking good, despite lowering yourselves to include someone like me. But the way the press is spinning things...it hurts."

"Hurts?"

"A 'diamond in the rough' implies I need refinement, polish to be beautiful, to be worthy. By calling me your Diamond in the Rough, it makes it seem like you and yours are ever so graciously taking the time and effort to change me, make me more socially acceptable." There's a distaste in your voice that Ransom's never heard before. "And I know, I know, that it's because I come from a 'lowly' background, that I was never meant to be so close to royalty. But it continually feels like who I am is undesirable. At least until I get chiseled down and polished until I sparkle like all the other diamonds."

Ransom scowls, but he's only got himself to blame. He had meant it as a way to say you were a natural beauty, different from the women he used to chase. You didn't need copious amounts of makeup or surgeries to make you beautiful. But, of course, he can't tell you that.

But then he gets an idea.

"What if we messed with Linda's PR?" he smirks.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"C'mon, it'll just be a little something," Ransom pushes. "Just tell me what jewel you'd rather be compared to and I'll start calling you that, especially when there are people around to hear it."

"I...I'm not sure it's worth the risk."

Ransom gently scoffs. "Look, one way or another we're going to end up married. Might as well have some fun while we can. Besides, I'm happy to take the blame for any fallout. I'm used to Linda's wrath." That makes you wince and look at him with soft, concerned eyes. He hides how much your concern affects him. "It's just a little thing, a little rebellion for just us. Okay?"

You look at him for a few moments and decide to trust him. "Moonstone," you answer. "It's not the most valuable, but it's pretty and way more...interesting than diamonds."

"Moonstone," he nods. "I like it."

During the opera, your hand never leaves his. You'd planned to only hold his hand for as long as the lights were up but you quickly became so engrossed in the story of Lómëwen you forget where you are and who you're with.

For his part, Ransom is happy to keep his hand in yours and even happier to see how entranced you are by the show. He's never been one for opera, fine art and other high society bullshit. But seeing you truly enjoy yourself makes him feel things he never thought possible.

Growing up surrounded by cynicism and manipulation he'd learned to shove down anything genuine about himself. Especially things that could be used against him. But maybe, just maybe, when it's the two of you, alone in the manor, he could let himself tell you these things.

"Well, you've done a great job of pretending to be interested," Linda tells Ransom, looking at the press photos on her phone. "Even spent the entire opera looking at her soft eyes."

"It's what you wanted, right? Let the public think we're growing closer?"

"It is! For once you did good." Ransom rolls his eyes but Linda ignores it. "Now it's time to pull the plug on the whole thing."

Ransom freezes. "What?!"

Linda scoffs at him. "What? You actually thought I'd let some low-level upstart insult my son and get away with it? Now that the public believes you two are lovey-dovey, now that she's better known, it's the perfect time to cancel everything and walk away with our heads held high."

Ransom sputters for a little before finally saying, "why the fuck didn't you tell me this was the plan?! I thought the marriage was on!"

Linda chuckles at him. "Because you would've given away the game, Ransom! I had to have you thinking it was real so you could better play your part."

"But...the Royal Family made sure this happened?"

"And they're so busy with Prince Steve's wedding, they're going to completely miss a little hiccup like this," Linda says as if it should be obvious. "Besides, there's no way you actually want to be married to her. She's beneath your station and well below the standards of high society. You can do better."

Ransom keeps his mouth shut and storms out. Linda likely thinks he's upset about not being in on the plan, and he is. But he's more upset at the fact he's about to lose you, hurt you.

He needs to think.

Tagging: @alicedopey ; @delicatebarness ; @icefrozendeadlyqueen ; @irishhappiness; @iwudbutnah; @kmc1989; @lokislady82 ; @peaches1958 ; @ronearoundblindly; @theinheriteddutchess; @thiquefunlover63

[plussizefantasia]

Bleeding Hearts

Kili Durin x Soulmate!Reader (part 5/7)

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four -

wc 3.3k

warnings: threats of violence, reader is not in a good place mentally, discussions of insecurities, some violence

an: Thank you for bearing with me as I work on this project slowly but surely. Some of the messages and comments I've gotten recently are really what pushed me to sit down and finish this chapter, as well as outline the last two. As always, a massive shoutout to @crackedpumpkin, who is a living hype train and an amazing beta reader!

For how much Thorin gets on Fili and Kili about good impressions, being on time, politeness, and whatnot, he certainly didn’t seem to care that he was making Kili late for his meeting in Dale. Luckily, he had told Fee that Uncle wanted to see him, and if he wasn’t free from Thorin’s grasp by the end of the hour, then Fili would have to go in his place, and he’d meet them there. 

He was conflicted about this meeting, obviously, it was good for Erebor and the relations between the Kingdom of Men and the dwarves, but that wasn’t really what he was most concerned with. 

He missed you, deeply and truly, he missed you. He missed everything about you, the way your hair moved when you worked, your smile, your laugh, even the way you glared at unruly patrons. He had been craving your presence since the moment he walked out of the doors.

But he had put a lot on you that night and thought it best to give you space. Then, when he returned home, Thorin had saddled him with more work than he had ever been given before, and suddenly the couple of days' worth of space he intended to give had turned into weeks without you; he was honestly… barely holding on.

By the time he practically ran out of Thorin’s office, having had enough of his Uncle’s need to meticulously review the training regime that Kili, Fili, and Dwalin had built and perfected for the soldiers of Dale, it was already almost nightfall. 

If Kili had any hope of making it to the meeting with King Bard, he would not have time to return to his chambers and grab his things; he would just need to set off immediately. 

The walk from Erebor to Dale was not too long, just shy of an hour if you kept a good pace, which Kili was determined to do. Every step he took closer to the lamp-lit town, the more his heart began to settle as if his very proximity to you was enough to ease his soul, even if he hadn’t seen you yet.

He spent the whole walk thinking of what he would say to you; he would reassure you, of course. Apologize for his time away and make sure you know that it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with his role as Prince. He would tell you how much he longed for you over the past couple of weeks and that his intentions have not shifted during your time apart.

He still very much cared for you; he wanted more than anything to get to know you, as he had told you that night in the tavern. He wanted to be your One, just as much as you were his. 

The dwarf, consumed with his thoughts, ambled his way through the streets of Dale. Every step he took brought him closer to seeing your face again, and he had to force himself to slow down, lest he look like a fool running through the streets. 

You, on the other hand, were frozen; shards of glass covered the floor under your feet, and you could feel the liquid that had splashed back up and onto your legs, but you still couldn’t make yourself move.

Not when your husband stood in the door looking at you with a smile on his face, but anger hidden behind his eyes. He looked older, grey at his temples and softer around the edges than the last time you saw him, but it was unmistakably him. 

The room stood still, and silence permeated the space

You barely register the crunch of glass beneath his heel as he moves towards you in full strides, arm outstretched and grabbing ahold of the flesh of your upper arm before you could realize what was happening. 

Fili tracks his movement, quickly stealing glances at the door from which your nightmare came, only moments ago. His body was tense, and his eyes full of hesitance and pleading. Today, of all days, Kili was late. Your heart blooms with something dangerous, a hope that could send you crashing if you were wrong.

Was he coming? Was he going to swoop in here like some knight from the tales in those old romance books? Was Kili on his way to you? You dared not hope too high, lest the fall be deadly. 

Bard, stupid, noble, Bard tries to step in, “Is there an issue here? I’ve not seen you around before. And we don’t get many visitors.”  

“Now I think that’s business between my wife and me, don’t you?” Ricard’s grip on you strengthens, his anger evident in the blood pooling beneath your skin. Bard’s eyes widen with surprise at the claim this stranger is making to you, but he masks it quickly and carries on.

 “Seeing as I am the King of these lands and the woman you’re bruising with your grip is a dear friend of mine, I think it might be my business too.” Bard steps steadily closer, his own hand reaching for the sword that was leaning up against the chair he was occupying moments ago. 

“Oh, dear friend, is she? Didn’t take the little whore long before trying to replace me.” His laugh was terse and lacking any humor. He pulls you closer to his chest and loops one of his arms around your front, caging your body to his with his arm. The other, still hanging by his side, but the tense grip he has on his own knife is not to be ignored. 

You can’t stop the words bubbling to the surface; they come out before you even know what you’re going to say, “That’s rich coming from you. Weren’t you the one who came home smelling like a new woman every other night?” It comes out shakier than you’d like, and the way you can feel his arms tense around you makes you want to take it back instantly

Ricard’s grip on you tightens, and a low growl etches its way out of his chest. 

Kili, in his own mind, had been practicing what he would say, the words rolling around in his mind as he attempted to cobble together something decent enough to hold your attention. He would never be able to forgive himself if he hurt you with thoughtless words and empty apologies.

His mind goes blank, however, when he finally makes it to the tavern, and his blood freezes in his veins when his eyes land upon your figure, wrapped in the embrace of another man. 

The sight is almost enough to turn him away completely; maybe he had been gone too long. Of course, you would find someone else. You’re amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have you. He would be lucky to have you. Then he really looks, and sees the fear within your eyes and the way the man’s grip is far more aggressive than that of a lover, and he is in one single second flying forward and launching himself through the doors.

The door slams against the wall, pulling the attention of everyone in the building, their eyes snapping from one scene to the next. 

Kili stands there, chest heaving and eyes wild, and yet, the mere sight of him bleeds the tension from your veins. Ricard, your sleepless nights, the anguishing thoughts of never seeing him again, all fall from your mind when he’s in front of you. 

Your voice sounds in your ears before you really even realize what you’re going to say, “In case my leaving in the dark of night wasn’t enough to get it through that thick orc skull of yours, I’m done. I’m done with you, with our marriage, with everything.”

A swift move of your elbow back into his gut has him faltering in his position enough for you to rush out of his hold. Kili immediately reaches for you and tugs on your arm until you're placed firmly behind him. His sword was already in his hand, and his face was giving away nothing.

“You dare?” He growls out, “Dare to lay a hand on her?”

“She’s mine!” Ricard snarls, sounding more like a wonder animal every second.

“No,” Kili doesn’t raise his voice; he doesn’t need to. “She belongs to nobody, least of all a snivelling rat like you.” Kili raises the sword in his hand so it is pointed directly at your former husband. 

It isn’t until Fili sidles up next to him and places a hand on his brother’s shoulder that Kili looks away from Ricard.

“As much as I’d love to see you knock this bastard down a few pegs, brother, we are not in Erebor, and as such it’s up to King Bard to decide the fellow’s fate.” Fili’s tone is jovial, but his words hold a clear warning, one that Kili doesn’t miss. 

He sheathes his sword and reaches his hand for yours instead, nodding his head at Bard, who looks equally murderous. 

Bard motions for his Captain to take Ricard, “I don’t know how they do things in Bree, but in Dale, threatening a woman at knifepoint is against the law. You’ll spend the night in irons until I decide what to do with you.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, Ricard is hauled out of the tavern, shouting expletives and threats the whole way.

And yet, with Kili’s hand in yours, surrounded by people who’ve grown to care for you, you don’t feel afraid. In fact, you feel nothing more than disgust for the man who thought he owned you. You were right to leave all those years ago. You have good instincts; you just need to listen to them.

A squeeze to your hand has you shifting your gaze to Kili’s. Your intertwined hands are tingling in a way that shocks your heart and makes you want never to let go. 

“Are you alright?” His question is sincere, and you just smile.

“I am now.” 

With Ricard’s exit, the patrons all around you refocused themselves back onto their own lives. Conversation slowly picked back up, and in no time, the tavern was as lively as it had been before. 

The two of you stood together, wrapped in each other’s embrace. You took several deep breaths, calming yourself with the scent of Kili and the feel of his hands placed on your hips. He didn’t move, just held you and relished in the closeness he had craved for weeks now.

Eventually, though, you pulled back, wiped the tears you hadn’t even noticed falling, and smiled a weak smile.

“Thank you for the rescue, my prince, but I’m afraid I have to get back to work. You can stay, though, if you want. Your normal stool is open,” you added hopefully. 

Kili was about to object, but before he could, a voice rang out from behind the bar, “Are you daft, girlie?” Brant was stood there, hands on his hips and a furrow between his brow.

“You’ve worked yourself to the bone these past weeks; you’ve well and earned yourself a night off.”

“But I-” You tried.

“I’ll not have you arguing with me in my own bar. Get out of here, I don’t want to see you back until we close.” Brant tried to be harsh, but you could see behind his eyes that there was a kindness. A kindness you were not yet used to, but would do your best to try. 

“Well then,” you turn back towards your dwarf prince, “it seems I have the evening to myself. But that seems far too lonely, care to join me?” You tilt your head and look into his eyes. It’s an olive branch, one you desperately hope he takes.

“A walk sounds nice, I know a place we can go,” he offers. You exhale deeply and nod, offering your hand to him. 

He takes it without a second of hesitation, and the two of you are once again enraptured by the other and making your way out the doors and into the crisp night air. 

The quiet is comforting, after the night you’d already had, it’s grounding to be outside. The slight breeze caresses the skin of your arm, and the buzzing that bounces through the air keeps your thoughts away from remembering the way Ricard’s arms felt around her. 

The slap of your boots against the road gives way to the soft crunch of gravel, and the rushing of water invades your senses. 

“I’m sorry,” you looked at Kili, “I haven’t been much of a conversation partner, have I?” 

“I just like spending time with you.” His reply was as easy as breathing. 

“I do to Kee, that’s why I got so scared. I hadn’t liked someone the way I like you in a very long time; maybe ever. And you made it so easy, I was in deeper than I realized before I ever thought I could be.”

“You like me?” His tone was cheeky, and you pushed your shoulder against him.

“Of course I like you, you dolt.” You laughed, and the sound lit up the space between you.

“You made it easy, too, you know?” he asked, “I never felt like I had to be anything other than myself around you; it was refreshing.” He pulls you to a stop by a large bank in the river. It’s clear that this is a common place for people to rest; the grass around the area has been well trampled, and it’s easy to sit atop the soft grass. Kili falls down next to you and takes your hand between his, resting it in his lap and facing you head-on. 

“Who else would you have to be?” You ask.

“When we first met, I was in an official meeting. Did you know that? It was only after I had begged and pleaded with Bard to let us get a drink that we moved. But we had been held up in his home for hours at that point. I was supposed to be an envoy, Prince Kili of Erebor, Second heir to the throne. But when I saw you, I didn’t know. I just wanted to be a normal man, meeting a normal woman.”

You got quiet at that; it’s easy to forget sometimes. That Kili is royalty, it’s all fun and games to rib on him for being a prince, but it’s different when he talks about it in that light. He is one of the heirs to the throne of Erebor. That comes with rules, responsibilities, expectations. You don’t know how you’ll fit into all that; you don’t really know if he wants you to. That's the most terrifying thought of your whole night. What if being in love with him isn’t enough?

“Do you like being a prince?” You ask instead. 

“It has its perks,” he shrugs,” I don’t have to make my own breakfast, and I get to travel a lot, which is nice. But it’s not all it’s made out to be. I would never admit it to Uncle, but sometimes I miss my life back in the Blue Mountains. It was smaller and easier back then. Do you like being a barmaid?” He throws back at you towards the end.

You wonder at it, his ability to bounce between serious and silly at the drop of a hat, it's endearing in a lot of ways.

“Well, it’s better than doing nothing, that's for sure. I like Dale, it’s a lovely place to live. I consider myself very lucky to end up where I have. In another life, I could still be wandering Middle-earth, searching for myself and safety, or maybe I’d still be back in Bree under the thumb of a man who never really loved me in the first place.” You looked up at the sky when you answered, the stars drawing pictures of stories you'd heard time and time again.

“Well, thank Mahal that this is the life you’ve lived, the path you’ve walked led you straight to me, and I’ll never be able to repay Him for that, for you.”

“What do you mean by ‘for me’?” 

He blew a breath out deeply, “It’s a whole history lesson, are you sure you’re ready?” He raised an eyebrow at you in playful challenge.

“I like learning about you, your beliefs, things that keep you going.” 

His responding smile was a softer one, one that he didn’t sport very often, but you find yourself craving it every time you see it.

“Dwarves believe in a creator, Aule, or Mahal. He is the creator of all, the earth, its resources, and the dwarves whom he created to be patrons to his creation. Dwarven legend says that Mahal did not craft each dwarf on his own but instead fashioned two souls of the same stone. It is said that the other half of your soul is out there, and that when you find them, everything feels right. Nowadays we call them One’s but there is another term I can’t bother to remember right now.” He takes another deep breath and seems to brace himself for what he will say next. “I’m sure by now you know that dwarves are a very stubborn people; as such, we are very particular when it comes to love. A dwarf only falls in love once you see. In his whole lifetime, he shall only ever love one.”

As the stars twinkle above, and the river rushes along the side of the bank, Kili’s hand holding your own, you think that this is quite possibly the best moment of your life.

“And do you?” You whisper into the space between you.

“Do I what?” He tilts his head to the side, and his brows furrow the tiniest bit in the middle.

“Love me?” You lean forward and search his face desperately for the answer you’ve been dreaming about for a while.

There comes that soft smile of his again, “Oh, Amralime, like you even have to ask.”

He surges forward, closing the gap between you two, his hand reaching for the back of your head and pulling you close. 

Your lips dance along each other, trading weeks, months of pent-up feelings, and the relief to finally be in each other's arms like this. 

Kili’s hold on you is strong, but he lets you pull away first, resting your forehead against his own. 

“Kee I- I need you to know.” It’s agony pulling away from him again, but you will never forgive yourself if you don’t let it out.

“Anything, Darling.” It’s his turn now to desperately search for answers in your eyes.

“I am not a princess, and I have no desire to rule anything. I like the life I’ve built for myself, and I can’t- won’t give it up.” You can feel tears start to well in your eyes. You have no idea what he’ll say, but you need to stay true to yourself.

“I am not much of a prince either, ask Fili. I just want you to be happy, and I hope I’ll get to be beside you while you are. That is it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I want to try Kili, I really do. I want to be with you, probably more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I just need you to promise me you won’t give up on me when I mess this up because I will. I’ll say the wrong thing sometimes or be mad at you for no reason. I’ll push and pull, and I need to know that you’ll still love me through all of it.”

“My love, you are the other half of my soul, my one. I will not stop loving you until the air has left me, and even then, I will wait however long it takes to see you again.”

“Okay.” You finally let yourself fall, cutting the string inside yourself that has been holding you back. You nod to yourself once, then twice. Then you kiss him again. Soft and slow and full of promises about a life waiting to be built.

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