#...or at least till the next prompt tomorrow

[r3tr0s-posts]

Undertale September Day 8: Dogs

Bonus Doodles of some dog expressions to add the "s" to today's prompt

[v3nusxsky]

Darling talk to me| H&C

*A/n~ this idea has me willing to sit here and not move till it releases its chokehold on me. God I absolutely adore writing for Larissa she's an absolute angel with a protective streak for those important to her and don't forget everyone at Nevermore. Her strength is unmatched. ~proceeding to gay panic over Larissa~ I'm so late to posting this but life is a pain sometimes. okay read on my little doves*

~Second authors note~ from the drafts requests are coming guys, sorry I had some shit happen today

Tw~ assault implied (aftermath bruises mentioned)

Prompt~ number 28 on my prompt list ~ "who did this to you" requested by Abi1468~ wattpad

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Teaching children was always the dream. It took years to decide what subject. Each held a special place in your heart. But one day it just clicked. Language and spell work is a subject you've always excelled at. Your own sorcery flowing strongly through your veins with every thump of your beating heart. The language part was certainly interesting and the spells normally in a language similar to Latin. Due to this you were fluent in Latin but also a few other languages. Your thirst for knowledge never truly quenched so you found another language to learn.

You were Nevermore's  first ever sorceress to teach but also one of the younger staff members. The students at Nevermore absolutely adored you and your lessons. That was a shock. Really, you'd expected them to moan at how much work it would be , struggle to stay engaged when the languages got tricky and in general dislike how you run the class. But no. You saw your students as friends with all the banter and fun you had every day. Each class unique in their own divine right.

Sorcery sounds amazing for those who don't quite understand the burden. The magic that runs through your body is fulled by emotion. Which means you feel a constant need to be in control all of the time. You can't afford any slip ups. After all one time when you were new to your ability you accidentally grew frustrated at tripping over a branch. Immediately your magic responded setting it on fire. That was actually the first time your power made itself known to you. It was a terrifying moment. Alone and scared and only eleven years old. So now at twenty five, you were glad to be helping the next generation of outcasts, ensuring no one was left alone when their ability showed itself.

With exams rounding the corner you had neglected to make a trip into Jericho. Which is how you found yourself stood in your bathroom glaring at the empty tooth paste tube. You could feel the simmering magic in your bones as you tried to calm your frustrations. It was eleven thirty at night. Extremely inconvenient.

You quickly threw on a hoodie and jogging bottoms before walking into Jericho. A petrol station sat just on the outskirts of the town. You made a mental note to come shopping for everything else tomorrow. The moon lit the path in front of you, it was a gorgeous night really but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to be back in your nice warm cosy bed. Sighing at the thought you wouldn't return to Nevermore for at least an hour. If only you knew.

The walk to the petrol station was a tranquil experience. It was only once you had secured the damned toothpaste did everything go so drastically wrong. You noticed a group of people tailing you. It made every fibre of your magic tingle. Not a good indication. But still this it is late and it is the last thing you need in your exhausted state. Your magic accidentally attacking some Normie gang because it felt threatened would be problematic to say the least. You needed to remain in control now more than ever. The group started to hurl insults at you, words slurring together showing their drunken state. The whole situation putting your magic on a high alert. Something was wrong. But you had to remain in control. You knew how disappointed your boss turned crush would be if that would occur. So you did your best to calm your magic and continue back to Nevermore but suddenly something went connected with your head. Knocking you out cold.

The first thing your body registers is pain. Everywhere. Your limbs stiff, back flat against the harsh pavement as your mind and body fought to return to their usual state. Your eyelids fluttering rapidly as you finally register the blue sky. Not the onyx sky you remembered. No, this blue was the rival of the bluest ocean. How had it become daylight? Wasn't it just night? What the hell happened? Your body too sore to move, you slowly convince your head to turn to each side. From there you identified the fuzzy outskirts of the grounds of Nevermore. The motivation you needed. You wanted your home and you were going to get it. You heaved your bruised body from the ground and slowly but surely trekked back Nevermore.

Thankfully, you could sneak back to your quarters undetected due to the early hour. After all it was a Saturday and no one would willingly be wondering the halls at this time of morning. As soon as you entered the room you immediately found your bed. Carefully climbing into it and letting your weary body rest. Exhaustion was click to claim you.

A few hours passed and you were now up taking paracetamol to go shopping. Only then did you see the full extent of the damaged. Black and blue splotches adorned your usual ivory skin. What was most concerning was the handprints on either of your thighs. You knew you had to cover this up. No one can know.

No one would known if you didn't drop your keys in the hallway. Larissa catching you in her gaze, she spotted the unusual colour. "Y/n? Can I just borrow you?" Your boss called out to you. Your body instantly complying and taking you to her.

Which is exactly how you landed up sat on the sofa under Larissa's intense watchful gaze. "Darling I must say I love the jumper" which caused a blush to adorn your cheeks. It was an old jumper, purely for comfort but the compliment from Larissa meant everything. "Thank you" you mumbled avoiding her gaze. It was only then when things went wrong. The older women was about to tell you you're welcome and that she meant her compliment however, she moved to place her hand on your leg connecting with a bruise.

You yelped out and instantly moved from the source. Concern flashed over her face. And slowly two and two were put together. "Darling? Why are you covered in bruises?" She hummed trying to keep a gentle tone as not to scare you with her line of intrusive questioning. Immediately you began to deny the fact with gusto that she almost believed you. Almost. "Y/n... I saw them in the hallway, and now when I touched your thigh. What happened darling? You can tell me." Her tone remained light and reassuring which is what made you finally break.

Harsh sobs filled the room as you cried. Cried for the confusion, the pain, and the care this women was extending to you. Your magic reacting to the emotional turmoil began to lash out, knocking books off the shelves and even lighting a roaring fire in the fire pit. If you were calmer you'd appreciate the fact it was the fire pit and not the desk. Clearly your magic wished Larissa no harm. Larissa sprang into action carefully gathering you in her arms. "Oh darling, it's okay, your okay, what happened? You're safe here. It's okay." Was the mantra that was ringing through your ears in her soothing voice.

Really not thinking clearly at all, you sat back and took the jumper off, revealing the blue bruises that littered your body. Only then did you also point to where they remained on your lower body. As you got to your thighs you dropped your hands back to your side and waited. For what? You weren't sure. After all you couldn't remember what had happened to you. All you knew is you hurt. Your body aching with every movement.

The taller women gasped at your display and immediately gathered you back in her arms. How could someone be so capable of that? Who? When? Not her y/n. Well you weren't her y/n, but she wished you'd be. "Y/n darling. Who did this to you?" The older women was so deep in her own swirling thoughts, all she could manage was a whisper.

You broke once more. And began to recount the hellish day and night you'd had. If only you hadn't ran out of toothpaste none of this would've happened. So really you were blaming yourself, I mean who else was there? "Darling, you could've come to me. I would've drove you instead..." she trailed off In thought cradling you as if you were glass.

"I didn't want to bother you. I'm sorry. I should've just waited till the morning. I'm sorry" you mumbled into the women's body. Only now calming slightly. "Oh darling it's okay. It's not your fault. Next time you need to go to Jericho I'll take you myself. I really care for you Y/n.... Do you know the people who did this?"

You shook your head at her question. You truly didn't. But she cared for you. And you knew that later when you had to go back to Jericho that Larissa would be there. All you could do was hope the pair of you didn't bump into that group again. For now though, you're just quite content to be comforted by Larissa. The first time feeling safe in the last twelve hours and it's all due to her. Your protector.

Word count ~ 1675

*A/n~ idk how I feel about this one I may rewrite it with one of my other ideas for this prompt.*

[parkersbliss]

Hello, your Five x Black cat reader was amazing so I was wondering if you would write something with prompts #40, #41, and a sprinkle of #46. Idk what else to put so have a lovely day :))))

thank you love!! here is it:

Tomorrow | F. Hargreeves

pairing: five hargreeves x gn!reader

wc; 724

warnings: s3 spoilers, but not like anything major major, angsty

synopsis: if tomorrow never comes, at least five loved you today

requests: CLOSED

prompts: 040: “why are you at my door at 3am?” 041: “I can’t stand the sight of you in someone else’s arms.” 046: “Tell me you want this too.”

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt list 

—

There was a knock at your door, causing you to groan. It’s not like you were getting much sleep anyway, but the thought of getting out of bed?

No thanks.

However, the knocking persisted. Eventually, you dragged yourself out of bed, only to hear a thud by the door. You move a little faster now, shuffling towards the door and gently opening it. “Hello?”

There was no one there.

Until you hear a weak moan from the floor. You look down to find Five fucking Hargreeves passed out drunk.

“Five?” You exclaim.

He turns his head to face you, smiling lazily. “Hey.”

You sigh, crossing your arms. “Why are you at my door at 3am?”

Five giggles and you notice the bottle of tequila still in his hand. “Because the world is about to end and… and I wanted to talk to you.”

Your face softens as you open the door the whole way, intending to let him in. However, since he’s leaning on the door, he just falls. He lets out another giggle at that, and you drag him inside your hotel room.

“Seriously, Five?” You mumble, helping to prop him up against the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just… kaboom! The world’s ending… again. And I can’t stop it.”

You sit down next to him, grabbing the bottle of tequila and taking your own sip. “Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Bullshit,” He slurs. “I worked my ass off the last month for nothing! It means nothing!” He begins to laugh. You drink to that because he was honestly right. You weren’t sure you could even try to comfort the old man. After all, the world is ending. Might as well go out with a bang too.

“How ironic is it that they got married tonight?” You asked, taking another sip. “I mean… everyone’s happy and in love, and you’re right… it means nothing.”

“I hate weddings,” Five grumbles.

“Free alcohol,” You point out.

“Only good thing.”

You sit in silence a little longer, both taking turns sipping out of the bottle. How do you cope with the end of the world?

Do you accept it, or do you fight it?

At one point, you would’ve said fight it, but you were tired of fighting. Like you said, perhaps it was always supposed to be this way. What good is putting off the inevitable?

“You know what’s funnier?” Five spoke up.

By this time, you were a little tipsy too, and you raised a brow at him. “What?”

“Everyone’s fallen in love with someone, and I’m still…” He hiccups. “I’m still too much of a bastard to admit I’m in love.”

You laugh, your head falling on Five’s shoulder. “What?”

“I think I'm in love, (Y/N),” He said matter-of-factly.

“With who?”

He just sips on the tequila till he realizes it’s empty and tosses it across the room. “I’ve never loved anyone but Delores… so I thought it was just… me? Like it wasn’t real.”

“Is it real?”

Five turns to face you, and you lift your head off his shoulder. His green eyes meet yours as he frowns.

“I think it’s real.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, (Y/N), I can’t stand the sight of you in someone else’s arms.”

You’re speechless as you stare at Five. Or maybe you’re just really drunk and can’t actually process anything. “Me?” You asked quietly.

Five nods, “I’m in love with you.”

You blink and shake your head. “You’re drunk.”

You move away from him, scared that he was lying and when you woke up to your last day on earth, nothing will have changed.

“No!” Five protests. “No, no. I’m drunk, but I mean it.”

“Do you?” You press, afraid of what’s to come.

“Please,” Five said softly. “Tell me you want this too.”

You don’t move any further. “The world ends tomorrow, you know?”

Five chuckles, a hand falling to your waist and the other cupping your face. “I know. But we might as well join the bandwagon of last-minute romances, right?”

“Yeah,” You said with a small smile. “I guess we should.”

“Do you wanna be happy and in love if it means nothing tomorrow night?”

You press your forehead to his, feeling the tears form in your eyes.

“Yes.”

— END —

🏷 five taglist: @clearbasementvoid @halfumbrella @esmedith @navs-bhat @alexxavicry @3ternalreal1ty

[blackbat05]

A Christmas Miracle

Jason Todd x Reader

Plot: After being dealt with a bad hand, you wonder if you could finish the year peacefully. Or would there be a Christmas Miracle?

Genre: PG-13 (Mentions of death), comfort fic

A/N: Decided to participate in @the-slumberparty EOY event and get back into writing here! This piece does act as an outlet for me and this is me praying for a better year. Anyways, hope you enjoyed my piece after a long while!❤️

Nice Prompts in Bold☺️

***

If it was any other day, I probably would have stayed far away from the bar and the music that would make any normal human being deaf with all that blasting.

But not today.

Because today was a shitty day.

No. Scratch that. This was a shitty year. I could even go out on a whim and say that it could give 2020 a run for their money. I was on my second bottle of soju, not giving a damn at the concerned look the bartender was giving me. Some creep tried to get close but I just weren't having it - I swore I saw a stain on his pants as he scurried away from my murderous glare.

"Tough day?"

I rolled your eyes, preparing to give the unsuspecting stranger a piece of my mind. "Jason?"

Jason Todd, my childhood friend and partner-in-crime takes a seat across me. He signals to the bartender over the Christmas music for another tiny glass and soju. "It's been a while."

"You're not going to stop me?"

"And miss out on a drink? No way." Jason scoffs. "Now, why are you drinking like there's no tomorrow?"

I want to tell him. How I left my perfectly stable job because I was being ostracized. How my family supported me but insinuated that I should have done more - be more approachable, more likable, more friendly. How a few days after my graduation, my grandmother who was the only living grandparent to watch me grow up since I was a toddler passed away suddenly.

How I was so ridden with guilt that I couldn't do anything more.

But as I opened my mouth, I hear a small voice in my head.

You'll just be burdening others, like how you always do.

"I'm fine." I dismissed Jason's worries away. Maybe I could have done a better job about it as he does not look the least convinced. I cut him off before he can ask anything else.

"You're here to drink with me. So drink." I uncap the new bottle, pouring him a glass.

I can feel Jason's gaze bearing into my forehead.

***

The next thing I feel is the soft fabric of my sofa. Jason lays me down gently before heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I hear the sound of my air fryer being switched on.

"I made you some fries. Oily food always helped with hangovers back when we were in college." He chuckles, passing me the glass. I drink the water in one go, gasping for air once I was finished. The smell of fried food and being hydrated helped me to become sober again.

Jason's shuffling around the kitchen, getting the necessary utensils. But I know he's giving me space. That's what I always loved about him. He never pushed unless you decided to tell him yourself. Even when I had a big fight with my parents, he kept silent, providing a much needed listening ear.

"Hey, Jay?"

"Mm?"

"I left my job." I know this wasn't the best way to start a conversation but it had to be out in the open sooner than later. "Gran died." My lips wobble and my vision starts to become blurry simply just uttering those few words.

"I feel like crap."

Jason sits beside you and his sea green eyes provide a source of comfort in the mess that I'm drowning in.

"And you can feel sad about it."

I burst into tears. The thread that I've conjured in mid air to sew my heart back together snaps and I can't hold back. My sobs are raw and primal till the point that I wished that the soju wiped me out unconscious instead.

The only difference from all the other times I wallowed in my grief and self-pity was the man in front of me who has his arms tightly wrapped around me, gently rubbing my back.

"It'll be okay. I'm here." He repeats softly.

And what a difference it was.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be stupid."

"No." Jason carefully pries me away and looks me in the eye. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. If I had known, I wouldn't have gone with Dick on that stupid mission."

I frown. The mission that he was referring to was a Black Ops mission, infiltrating what Dick and him suspected to be a child trafficking ring ran by the Court of Owls. I knew how much this mission meant to Jason on a personal level.

"Don't say that. As much as it pains me to say, but no one knew that Gran was going to go so suddenly."

"You don't get it," Jason says with a certain hardness that takes you aback. "She was family to me too. I had so many things I wanted to tell her." He sighs, hands clasped tightly.

"Like how I wanna be more than friends with you."

"What? I don't-"

Jason smiles sadly. "When you left your job, Gran was sad to see that you lost your spark. Back then, I did ask her for advice and she told me that either way, I should have told you how I felt. She said that you would have said yes. But I felt that I would have been a jerk to lay that on you while you were struggling." Jason sighs. "I guess Gran could see it better than the both of us."

Even in the afterlife, Gran was still looking out for me.

"She would have smacked you upside on the head if she was here."

Jason lets out a bark of laughter and you join him with your tear stained face. "She definitely would."

"So, does your feelings still stand?"

It's Jason's turn to blink in confusion before breaking out into a big smile. "That is if you'll have me."

I lean in to kiss him. "Of course you big goof. Now that you told me all of this, you're never going to get rid of me." I tackle him to the sofa and we end up in a giggling mess.

Jason reaches up to give a kiss of his own and deepens it till I'm left breathless and spinning with ecstasy. I snuggle into Jason, his warm and comforting presence enough to make me forget about my woes.

"That's good. Because I plan to be with you in both good and bad days."

[stylessupremacy]

Prompt: Request that @vrittivsanghavisent to me privately. "Would it be possible for you to write something really fluffy? About Y/n having a bad week and Harry's on tour?" Okay so I hope this is up to your standards haha! I also added some smut in here as well! 👀

Word Count: 3k +

Warnings: Language, period talk, sickness, smut

If you liked this piece please reblog, recommend, like, and talk to me about this piece! This is what motivates and makes me want to write! :)

Authors Note: Please go easy on me, this is my first time ever writing smut! Would love to hear your thoughts on this! Thank you!

-

It was a chilly November day in New York City. Harry had just got done performing back-to-back nights at Madison Square Garden for his special 'Harryween' concert nights.

He and Y/n had a few days' breaks between his New York shows and his upcoming Milwaukee show. Harry thought it would be nice to spend his day off in New York City rather than traveling to Milwaukee and spending the day there. At least in New York, he had his apartment where he could sleep in his own bed and not some uncomfortable hotel bed or the travel bus bed.

Y/n was having a rough start to her week. She got her period a few days early, one of her luggage bags managed to get lost, and she's coming down with a cold.

Y/n did have to admit having her period come early was a bit of a relief because she missed a day when she didn't take her pill and that was the one day her and Harry had time to have sex.

-

Harry and Y/n just got back from having dinner with the band. They just got done with the show in Cleveland, Ohio and instead of leaving that night Harry and his team decided to have them stay there for the night and they would leave later the next day.

Y/n didn't think too much into not taking her pill since her and Harry had barely been having sex, but she thought wrong when her boyfriend was horny that night.

"Harry, we shouldn't do this," Y/n moaned as Harry left wet kisses on her hot skin.

Harry slowly started to pull her top up and over her head so he could have better access to her chest, "And why not? Where not leavin' till tomorrow afternoon."

Y/n didn't protest after that, all Harry heard were pleasurable moans coming from her mouth due to the pleasing sensation he was leaving behind.

Y/n nudged Harry and lifted his shirt over his head so she could leave some love marked on him as well, plus she wanted the fans to know who he belonged to.

Slowly all their articles of clothing were scattered across the hotel room. The couple managed to make their way over to the bed.

Harry swipes his fingers across Y/n's clit and felt her juices, "You're s'wet for me, pretty girl. Your cunt is just aching for my cock huh?"

"Ye- yeah I've missed it so bad," Y/n tried to get out clearly but struggled since Harry kept teasing her with his fingers.

He would slowly move them up and down her folds and suddenly plunge right into her without warning and tease her for a little bit. he would slowly take them out again and repeat the teasing process.

"Har- Harry, please stop teasing. I- I need you in me," Y/n stuttered out still not getting over the euphoric feeling just by her boyfriend's fingers.

Harry slowly stopped teasing her and instead left little kisses along her mound and thighs. Y/n's back kept arching, aching for Harry to be inside of her already, "Don't be s'greedy brat."

Harry had stopped kissing Y/n and she couldn't feel his hot breath on her anymore. Sure enough, she felt his erection rubbing against her folds collecting her arousal before thrusting in.

Y/n is tearfully moaning as Harry hits her spot almost every time. "Such a good girl f'me. Always patiently waiting for my cock even though I know you want it every day."

Y/n's moans get louder as the ball in her stomach starts to become unbearable. Harry notices that she's close and takes his finger and starts rubbing her clit to help her climax.

"Oh, oh right there Harry," Y/n moans with pleasure as the ball in her stomach explodes and she's coming down with heavy breathing and high-pitched moans.

Soon enough, Harry is picking up speed with his thrusts and before he knows it, he's coming with deep low moans and heavy breathing.

Once Harry cleans up both himself and Y/n, they're both spooning in the hotel bed together. Harry's gently rubbing Y/n's back as they both drift off to sleep.

Y/n is on the brink of sleep till she has a sudden thought, 'I never took my pill today,' she suddenly panics. She quickly jumped out of bed without waking up Harry.

She quickly guzzled some water, took the pill, and went to the bathroom. She did her business and prayed that her mistake of not taking the pill would come but her in the ass.

-

So that's why Y/n was actually happy about her period coming early. She just wasn't happy with the terrible cramps that were coming along with it.

Y/n usually never gets cramps, if she does they're only the first two days and not too terribly bad. But the cramps she's experiencing right now are by far the worst ones yet.

She's been taking medicine religiously to try and help calm down her cramps. The medicine was also an acting agent for the cold she's coming down with. With all the traveling and changes in weather, she's coming down with a cold.

Having her period come was one thing, especially with the cramps, but to have a cold as well. Not fun.

-

Y/n and Harry had just landed in New York and were being escorted to the car. Harry had the day off for traveling and him and Y/n were going to use it to the fullest and enjoy it.

The sleek, black Range Rover pulled up outside the building entrance where Harry owned an apartment in the heart of New York.

Both Harry and Y/n got out, grabbed their bags, and headed inside towards the awaiting apartment. When they got inside they both dropped their bags in the living room and headed straight for the bedroom, considering that it was almost three in the morning.

They would have gotten there sooner if the crew didn't somehow manage to "lose" one of Y/n's bags. It didn't contain anything too terribly sentimental or valuable, but still, it contained her favorite make-up products that Y/n loved to use.

The couple crawled into the bed, enjoying how their muscles instantly relaxed at the touch of the soft and luxurious bed. Both the adults sighed in contentment considering they had been either sleeping on a tour bus or in a hotel bed, this was much better no matter how much the hotel room cost.

-

Harry and Y/n did not have any intentions of getting up early, but when Y/n did wake up at eleven the next morning with a pounding headache she did get annoyed.

Y/n has been a really good traveler, especially since this is her second tour with her famous rockstar boyfriend. But not once has she gotten a headache from traveling since her first go around.

Nonetheless, Y/n got up and took some aspirin, and laid back down. Both her and Harry ended up sleeping till one in the afternoon.

When Y/n woke up her headache had just dulled but it was still there - much to her displeasure. But she sucked it up still thinking it was from traveling.

She knew Harry would want to go walk around to get his exercise in, plus they have no food in the apartment and Y/n was starting to get hungry.

Y/n got dressed into a pair of comfy black leggings, and a washed plain green shirt, and finished her look off with some black vans.

Harry wore some gray shorts and paired them with a maroon hoodie, a blue baseball hat, and his white Adidas shoes. Y/n couldn’t help the wetness that formed between her legs by how hot she thought Harry looked.

Harry and Y/n headed out and took to the streets. Harry wanted to go to his favorite juice press shop that he always goes to when he’s in New York.

“Y’okay baby?” Harry asked as him and Y/n waited at the crosswalk.

“Ye-yeah I’m fine, just have a dull headache,” Y/n said as she adjusted her purse that was on her shoulder.

“Is it from traveling? Y’could of told me and stayed back and rest, maybe tha’ would help?” Harry asked worriedly, making sure she didn’t feel forced to come with Harry.

“No, I’m okay Harry. Besides it’s good for me to get out and walk, I need the exercise anyway, ” Y/n joked as she grabbed his hand and crossed the street.

Harry accepted her answer - even though he didn’t believe her fully.

They both got their drinks and continued with their day. The more the day went on the worst Y/n started to feel.

She noticed that she had a fever, even if she was covered with one of her boyfriend's sweatshirts along with tons of blankets - she still felt cold while they watched tv.

Next, she noticed that the headache she had was slowly becoming a sinus infection. Her nose become runny and she still had that dull ache around her eyes and her head.

Last but not least was the soreness in the back of her throat. When she slowly developed all these symptoms she realized she was coming down with a cold.

Harry picked up on how Y/n was coming down with all these symptoms. So he made Y/n some tea and headed out. He went and got some dinner for the both of them, including some soup for Y/n and Harry ended up getting a salad with a wrap. He also stopped and got some medicine for Y/n as well.

-

Today’s Harry and Y/n’s day off before taking tomorrow and using it for traveling. Harry got up fairly early, considering he had the option to sleep in.

He didn’t want to sleep in though. He wanted to treat Y/n due to her not feeling well, but still pulling through for him and coming and supporting him at his shows.

Much to Harry’s relief, he's noticed a big difference in how Y/n is feeling since Harry provided the medicine for her. She definitely looked a lot better compared to when she looked before the medicine.

So Harry, as the early bird he is, got up and got ready for the day. He was going to go for his ritual walk and buy some things for her.

Before he left he gave Y/n a light peck to the check. He left a note just in case she woke up before he got back and he also texted her as well.

The first thing Harry was going to do was stop and get Y/n some new make-up since the airport crew managed to lose it. So he found the closest convenience store - since Y/n hated when Harry would buy such luxurious makeup because she felt like it was a waste when she could buy it cheaper and it would get the job done.

So Harry bought her a little bit of everything. From foundation to concealer to mascara, you name it he bought it. He didn’t spend too terribly much - nothing that put a dent in his bank account - or that Y/n would be mad at him, even though she knew he meant well by it.

While at the convenience store he bought her some more medicine, especially since tomorrow was a travel day. He just wanted to make sure she had enough. He also bought her some of her favorite candy. Yes, she didn’t feel good, but since it was her period and all he just wanted to treat his girl.

Harry stopped by a cafe to get himself a coffee and got her a tea for her throat. Once he had everything he could think of, he made his way back to their apartment.

-

Walking into the apartment, he was expecting to see her still in bed. But what he didn’t expect was to see her up and moving like she wasn’t even sick. She was in the kitchen cooking herself some breakfast while - from the looks of it - was letting her hair dry from the shower she took.

The opening of the door caught Y/n’s attention, looking up as she saw Harry. ‘Hi, baby. How was your walk?” He shut the door and made his way over setting down the bags and cup carrier, “It was good. Stopped and got y’some makeup since the stupid airport people lost yours.”

Y/n chuckled slightly, “Harry you didn’t have to. I hope you didn’t spend too much money,” she gave him a pointed look. Harry wrangled out the receipt from his pocket and handed it to her, “I actually didn’t for your information,” giving her a smug smirk.

“I’m impressed,” she joked while looking through the bags, curious as to what Harry got you. When she came across a certain bag that contained her favorite chocolate-covered peanuts, her eyes started to water. “These are my favorite,” voice wavering from the tears threatening to spill over. “I know, that's why I got them,” He wrapped his warm hands around her and hugged her, “There’s no need to cry, darling.” “No, I know, it just made me happy.” That was the thing about periods Harry hated the most, the mood swings because they could go either way - she could be happy one minute but angry or sad the next.

Harry continued to comfort her through her mood swing, “How are y’feeling darling?” “I’m feeling a lot better, thank you,” she said as she came out of the hiding spot she created and gave him a peck on his cheek. “Y’up to some cuddles and movies?”

Y/n gave Harry a cheeky grin, “Is that even a question?” Harry grabbed the tv remote and switched Netflix on. He pressed play on Y/n’s movie request and got comfortable cuddling Y/n again while the movie played.

-

Y/n and Harry ended up watching movies for six hours. Now that it was nearing dinner time, they both decided it was best to get some dinner. Harry ended up ordering some soup and sandwiches again figuring the soup would go down the easiest with Y/n considering her sore throat still.

Once the pair was done eating and pleasantly full - they were still cuddling on the couch together. Well, Y/n was sitting in Harry’s lap - which is usually normal - but to say the least, Y/n was horny. She’s been missing action due to her period and being sick, but now that she’s feeling better she wants some action from the sex god himself.

Y/n turned in Harry's lap so she was facing him. She slowly started leaving kisses on Harry’s neck trailing to the collar of his t-shirt. “Y/n wh-what are you doing?” Harry stuttered out due to the sensation he was feeling from his girlfriend - she wasn’t the only one who was missing action too due to her period and sickness.

“Just showing some love to my boyfriend,” Y/n said nonchalantly and kept kissing along his neck, knowing this was riling him up just as much as it was for her. Harry moaned, loving the sensation her kisses were leaving him.

Y/n stopped kissing Harry, moved to the floor, and made a b-line for his sweatpants. She quickly tugged down his sweatpants and briefs - making Harry’s erect cock spring out from the confinement.

Y/n slowly took his cock and gave it a few pumps - riling him up even further, “Y/n st- stop teasing.” So at her boyfriend's command, she quickly took him to her mouth.

She started by giving him a few slow licks at the tip - collecting his precum. Once she swallowed the salty but sweet substance she took him fully in her mouth. “Y/- Y/n feels s- so good,” Harry moaned while making his grip in her hair significantly tighter.

She kept pleasuring him till his breaths were uneven and the knot in his stomach needed to be released. “I’m go- going to cum,” Harry let out one last shaky breath and disposed of his release in Y/n’s mouth - which she gladly swallowed all. She even went back for seconds and cleaned his throbbing but still sensitive cock for him.

Now it was time for the roles to reverse. Harry couldn’t eat her out as he wished but he was still able to touch her to let her feel some pleasure as well. So Y/n hopped back onto the couch and sat next to Harry - who got on top of her in return.

He started by showing love to her neck and marking his territory. While he showed love to her neck he moved his one hand down and under her shirt to massage her boobs. He slowly managed to get her shirt and bra off completely while still kissing her.

He made his way down where he massaged one boob but kissed and bit the other, “Fe- feels so good H.” He would give her a little surprise and pinch her nipples just to rile her up as she did to him. He continued the assault on her boobs for a little bit then he slowly worked his way down her stomach until he reached her mound.

He gave some love to her mound with kisses, “Gonna switch darling.” He gently left one last kiss on her covered mound and ran his fingers over her folds. “So wet f’me darling. This all f’me?” Y/n moaned in response, “I’m one lucky guy,” Harry lightly chuckled.

He rubbed up and down her underwear-covered clit rubbing circles on one particular area that made Y/n moan louder and her breathing hitched. “H I- I’m close,” Y/n moaned and curled her toes into Harry's back. Harry just kept rubbing the one spot and used his other hand to rub her clit again. “You're doing s’good f’me darling. Almost there,” Harry spoke in the most comforting voice he could.

Finally, once the knot in Y/n stomach burst she came down from her high with uneven breaths and loud moans. Harry helped Y/n finish and kept rubbing till she finally came down from her high.

“Y’must be feeling better love,” Harry joked as you both got up from the couch to collect your articles of clothing and head to the bedroom to get cleaned up and ready for bed. “Haha your real funny H,” Y/n replied with a small smile at his joke.

Harry helped Y/n get cleaned up and Y/n helped him get cleaned up. They both got situated in bed ready to fall asleep in one another's arms ready for the adventures of tomorrow's traveling.

“Good night Harry. Thank you for everything. I love you,” Y/n said in her sleepy voice that was slightly muffled by Harry’s chest. “Of course love, anything for you. Good night and I love you too,” Harry said with sleep laced in his voice but still kissed Y/n on the head. Afterward, the two lovebirds were asleep with a day full of traveling ahead of them tomorrow.

[galladrabbles]

Weekly Wrap U-Up

I hope you're all enjoying a sunny Sunday! If not weather-wise then at least in your thoughts. And if even those or a bit rainy and grey today I'm sending you some warming rays filled with love and appreciation!

Thank you everyone for another fun drabble week!

Thank you, dear writers and rebloggers!

Thank you, @mzshko, for the challenging prompt!

Thank you, @depressedstressedlemonzest, for sending in our prompt for next week!

Enjoy your Sundays, till tomorrow, xo, Vey

[roseddraws]

Don’t usually do stories on here, but saw this prompt and felt inspired. Constructive criticism welcome <:

Cinderella huffed through gritted teeth, scrubbing furiously at this most recent stain on the tile; there seemed to be more every day. Actually, it wouldn’t surprise her if her stepsisters spilled food on purpose to spite her. That sounded like them.

She thrust the brush into the soap bucket, splashing water all over the floor and soaking her dress. It hardly mattered anyway: her stepmother and stepsisters were enjoying themselves at the royal ball, and probably wouldn’t be back all night. Probably be too hungover to get up ‘till the afternoon too, Cinderella thought with grim pleasure.

She sighed and sat back, the stain finally gone. She looked around at the rest of the floor, assessing how much work she needed to do before tomorrow.

Good lord.

Right. Now seemed a good time for a break. She dropped the brush on the floor and stood up, cracking her back. She wiped her hands on her apron and made her way outside, still barefoot.

Cinderella took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the fresh air and the coolness of it on her skin, soothing her exhausted muscles. Leaning her back against the wall, she closed her eyes and imagined she was anywhere else. It was the perfect night for a ball; midwinter evening, but surprisingly warm, the stars bright and clearly visible in the cloudless sky.

“It is a lovely night, isn’t it?” A voice said from beside her.

Cinderella startled, eyes snapping open and head snapping to the side. Standing next to her was a woman. Or… perhaps it was a younger girl. No, she was sure it was a woman. Older than her, perhaps in her twenties, or seventies. The woman grinned at her obvious confusion.

Cinderella remembered her manners. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. Your dress is lovely.” It wasn’t a lie: she was wearing a gorgeous, deep green ball gown, with a flowing train made of translucent fabric that seemed to fade to nothing. Over her shoulders was what looked to be a cloak of iridescent, black feathers.

The woman looked pleased. “I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your manners. That’s something I’ve always liked about you.”

Cinderella was quickly growing uneasy, wondering if this woman was older than she looked, and perhaps going senile. Though, now that she’d mentioned it, she did think the woman looked inexplicably familiar.

Tilting her head, the strange woman spoke again with exaggerated surprise, a wide grin still plastered on her face, as if she’d forgotten she had to move her mouth when she changed facial expressions. “Do you not recognise me, dear? I suppose it has been a while since we last spoke.”

The girl tried for a politely apologetic expression, shaking her head.

The woman smiled even wider. “I am your godmother; it’s my job to make sure your life is going as well as I can make it.”

Now, most young ladies might be frightened or concerned by this statement. Cinderella, however, felt that it explained quite a bit about her childhood; namely, all of her faint memories about an old woman that taught her numbers and read her bedtime stories when she was small. And by god did she need someone to fix her life.

She matched the woman’s grin. “I do remember you,” she tilted her head thoughtfully, mimicking her earlier motion. “Partially, at least. May I have your name?”

Her godmother’s eyes crinkled with genuine mirth, and her head snapped back as she let out a laugh like church bells.

“Good! You remember me. I’m glad to see living with that infernal stepmother of yours has not wrung all of the wits out of you,” she said. “And to answer your question, although I’m sure you already know what I’m going to say, you may refer to me as ‘Godmother’.”

Godmother clapped her hands once. “Now, Cinderella, if you still want to get to that ball, we’d better get to work right away. Unless you intend to show up dressed like that?”

Cinderella looked down at her stained, grey rags, still soaked with dirty water, and shook her head. “What did you have in mind?”

Her godmother frowned. “Now, dear. You’ve spent enough of your life being told what to do; I think you’ve earned the rights to some autonomy. What do YOU want?”

Cinderella’s face broke into a genuine smile for possibly the first time since her father died.

“What do you think will piss off my stepfamily the most?”

Her godmother grinned mischievously, her wings unfurling behind her.

***

The prince snarled as he slashed at what was left of the training dummy. The remaining hunk of leather finally collapsed to the floor, and he stood over it, panting.

He felt a little better.

“Reginald Charming Peaseblossom!” A furious voice boomed from behind him.

Reginald flinched, but stubbornly refused to turn around.

“You are to turn and face me this instant, young man,” She said, deathly calm.

The prince took a deep breath, making the most of the last few moments of his life, then turned to face his mother.

The woman in front of him was a few inches shorter than he was, with snow-white hair standing out shockingly against her ebony skin. She wore a deep purple and lilac dress with golden accents, and her arms and neck were all but covered by heavy gold jewellery. Hung over one of her arms was what looked to be a wine-red suit, which looked almost as bedazzled as her own dress. Reginald chose to focus on her clothing to avoid looking at the stony face she was surely wearing.

“Yes, mother?” He asked, still breathing heavily. It came out more feebly than he’d intended.

The queen took a deep breath, and it looked like it took all of her strength to keep her expression cold and neutral (it was unbecoming for royalty to show emotion in the company of others, the prince remembered from his many lessons in etiquette). She stepped towards her son and shoved the suit at him, the extravagant garnishes jingling.

“You’re lucky there’s no time to punish you. Put this on quickly- I will be making sure it’s done properly- then head straight to the ballroom. Guests are already arriving. We will discuss your tardiness after the ball.”

“Yes, mother,” Reginald replied. Then, feeling bold, he added, “But don’t expect me to find a suitor. I am certain that none of the guests-“

“One of our guests will take your fancy,” his mother’s voice was more angry than he’d ever heard it, but her face was blank as always. “Otherwise, your father and I will choose a bride for you.”

The prince stiffened. He didn’t know why he still tried to defy her. He knew all it would do was get him into more trouble.

“Yes, mother.”

He turned smoothly, walking away with his head held high and his suit folded neatly over one arm, as he’d been taught. He deflated the moment he was out of the queen’s sight, relaxing his posture and breaking into a jog. If he hurried, he could wash quickly and be ready without making his mother much more angry. He didn’t want to attract the attention of any possible suitors, of course, but he wasn’t an animal.

Or perhaps he was just looking for an excuse to avoid the ball for a bit longer. He’d probably regret that later.

Once he’d reached his room (slamming the door and locking it behind him), he let out a sigh that hurt his throat with its force. He wanted to scream and throw something across the room in anger, but knew he didn’t have time for any more dramatics.

Instead, Reginald stalked over to his closet and threw the doors open, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He held the suit in front of him, and saw with disgust that it looked fantastic.

As he’d noticed before, it was a deep, wine red, the buttons apparently made of gold. It was paired with a white poet shirt to wear underneath. Reginald’s dreadlocks were tied back in a short ponytail at that moment, but he knew if he let them down and added some golden strings and ribbons, maybe a pair of gold earrings as well, it would compliment the gold on the suit perfectly.

The already unhappy face in the mirror contorted into a scowl as the boy realised that his mother, as usual, was right.

***

Cinderella tried her best to look like a noble as she hitched up her skirts and stepped daintily down from her carriage-that-had-been-a-pumpkin. Actually, she had to move daintily, because her shoes were made of brittle glass (it was A Look, okay? She was a trendsetter).

She looked back at her godmother, who’d been sat besides her on the drive there. The fairy was stepping down after her, leaving her long train trailing behind her into the carriage. She offered her goddaughter an encouraging smile.

“You’re going to be great, dear,” she told Cinderella. “Go have fun. I’ll be here, even if you can’t see me.”

Cinderella smiled back. “Th- I’m grateful, Godmother. And I’m very glad for all of these gifts.”

With a knowing grin, the woman gave a final curtsy, and was gone in a gust of wind and a fluttering of fabric and feathers.

Cinderella took a deep breath, straightening her posture. She nodded to the carriage driver, who squeaked in response. And without further ado, she turned to follow the rest of the party-goers into the castle, holding back a smile as she pretended not to see the heads that turned in her direction.

She was far and away the best dressed there.

Most of the crowd consisted of the more rich common folk- they were easy to distinguish from their extravagant skirts made of clearly cheap material- but a significant amount of them were actually nobility. Cinderella walked among lords, ladies, dukes, duchesses, counts, countesses- and her dress outshone them all.

She’d arrived at the same time as most of the other guests, right as the music was starting. A shy boy about her age in a striking orange suit caught her eye, and she sashayed over to him as the music crescendoed. He gaped at her, and she grinned at him and held out her hand, which he took tentatively. The girl laughed and pulled him to the dance floor, trying for a pirouette. Admittedly, she didn’t know how to dance, but this boy seemed too enraptured to tell.

She giggled girlishly, twirling from his arms a few songs later and into the arms of a young woman in a pale pink dress, who gripped her hands with no hesitation and danced with confidence and a lot more skill than Cinderella possessed.

She spent the better part of the next two hours dancing the night away, never staying with a partner for more than a song or two, but leaving them with an impression that would stick with them for the rest of her life, unbeknownst to her. She was aware of little beyond her dance partner and the eyes of her audience, for once not distasteful or reproachful, but admiring. Reverent, even.

She sometimes caught glimpses of deep green fabric and iridescent, black feathers, and she knew that her godmother was there with her, and Cinderella felt happy and safe for the first time she could remember clearly.

It was pure luck that the Prince of the Entire Bloody Kingdom found his way into her arms.

***

Reginald didn’t make a habit of staring at people. He knew it was impolite, plus most people weren’t interesting enough to warrant staring.

This girl, however…

Reginald knew what love felt like, in theory. He’d read plenty of books on the subject, and thought he’d probably be able to identify it if he ever fell in love with someone, unlikely as he found the notion. And he was sure this wasn’t it. Which begged the question: why couldn’t he look away from this girl?

Perhaps it was her clothing. Her dress was ocean-blue, with layers of skirts fading to a turquoise the colour of a tropical sea, the bottom skirts trailing behind her, rippling like waves. The hemline was raised in the front to just below her knees, and was lined with a translucent, white fabric that glittered like sea-foam and seemed impossibly light, as if it floated just above the ground. Her bodice was simple; the neckline and waistline were adorned with the same sea-foam-fabric, but other than that it was entirely plain- although Reginald swore that when the light hit it just so, it moved like the surface of the ocean from a mile above. Somehow, despite her ethereal dress, the prince felt the most striking part of her outfit was the shoes: they were made entirely of intricately-shaped glass, and yet were as pristine and flawless as they’d been when she’d arrived, despite being perhaps a centimetre thick at their strongest point.

It gave Reginald a petty sense of satisfaction to know that her simple outfit of a ball gown and slippers far outshone his mother’s intricate dress with twice its weight in gold jewellery.

But no, it wasn’t the outfit that drew the prince’s eye.

There was something about the way she moved, that he could no more explain than he could ignore. She clearly couldn’t dance, yet her movements were elegant, flowing smoothly like water in a stream. If he hadn’t spent so much of his life in dancing lessons, he’d probably think she was an expert. She seemed tireless, moving with the same unnerving enthusiasm she’d danced with all night, with an unfaltering grin stretching from ear to ear. Something about her reminded him of a dream, as if the colours of her clothes and skin and flowing hair couldn’t quite keep up with her, leaving afterimages in her wake.

It was like she was enchanted.

Reginald wanted to study her.

That was the real reason he joined the dance, and finally found himself with her a few hours later (the entire crowd was clustered around her, almost forming a solid wall).

He looked down at the girl, who looked back at him, face perfectly framed by her almost snow-white hair, and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Oh, wow. You’re beautiful.”

He immediately cringed. That… that had come out wrong. The girl raised her eyebrows, looking unimpressed.

“Thank you? But I’m really not interested… your highness.”

“Oh thank god,” the prince sighed, too relieved to be surprised.

The girl threw back her head and cackled, and Reginald realised in that same moment that that was also not a polite thing to say to a guest.

“Wowwww!” She said with mock-offence, twirling into a pirouette even though the song did not call for it at all. “I expected the prince to be a lot more polite.”

“No- I’m- I- I just meant- um…” he stuttered, to the girl’s visibly growing amusement. “Can we please start over?”

She laughed again, then broke away and dipped into a curtsey.

“Cinderella Fairchild, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Oh good, they were doing formal introductions. Reginald knew how to do those.

“Prince Reginald Charming Peaseblossom of Mythica, at your service.”

He held out a hand, raising an eyebrow. Cinderella took it and he pulled her into a more formal slow dance, this time to the beat of the music.

“So, what brings you to the ‘find the prince a wife’ party if you’re not planning to court the prince?” Reginald asked, starting to lead Cinderella to a more private corner.

“What brings you to the ‘find the prince a wife’ party if you’re not planning to find a wife?” Cinderella countered.

The prince grimaced. “This ball was… not my idea, to put it mildly.” (In truth, he’d been fighting against the plan for weeks) “I actually have no interest in romance. I’d be glad if I never found a wife, ever.”

Cinderella raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Would you rather a husband?”

She laughed at his scandalised expression, and he scrambled to defend himself (yet again).

“No- There’s nothing wrong with- I was just- I thought- You-“ he huffed. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you.”

“Yup!” She grinned, popping the p.

Reginald raised his eyebrows at her. “I notice you’re avoiding my question, Cinderella.”

She squinted at him and jutted out her jaw, like an annoyed child. “Well, if you must know, I’m busy having a good time and pissing off my stepfamily by showing them up and refusing to clean their house.”

The prince laughed. “Alright, valid. It seems neither of us have a happy family life.”

He twirled her around like a ballerina, even though the song playing at that moment was actually quite somber. Then he frowned, realising something.

“Hold on. Aren’t you a noblewoman? Why are you doing your family’s chores?”

She smiled secretively. “A noblewoman? Me? Why on Earth would you think that?”

Reginald took a step back and looked Cinderella up and down incredulously. “You’re telling me that you’re dressed like that… and. You’re not royalty?”

“Mmhm!” She tilted her head to the side as if she was looking at someone behind him, still wearing that secretive smile.

The prince raised an eyebrow, planting his hands hands on his hips. He continued to stare at her for a few seconds, before finally giving in and asking the question she was clearly waiting for.

“So how did you get the outfit then?”

“Oh, this? Just a gift from my godmother.”

“Mhm,” Reginald knew she was teasing him, but now he had to know what she was being so secretive about. “And where did your godmother get it?”

“She made it herself!” Then Cinderella gave him a smug smile. “She’s good with magic. Comes with being a fairy, I think.”

It took a few moments for the words to sink in, but when they did his mouth gaped so wide he thought his mother would crucify him if she were there. He didn’t for a moment consider that the girl might be lying: a fairy’s involvement would actually explain a lot of what he’d seen that night.

“Your godmother is a fairy? How… how did that even come about?” Somehow, that was the only question Reginald could think to ask.

Cinderella looked genuinely thoughtful for a moment, then she shrugged. “No clue, honestly. I’ll have to ask her when I get the chance.”

The prince chuckled and shook his head. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it?” At Cinderella’s questioning look, he elaborated. “I mean because of my heritage. My mother makes sure everyone we meet knows that my great-great-great-whatever grandmother was a fairy, and that I have ‘nature’s blessing’, or something like that. She would lose her MIND if she knew that a fairy’s goddaughter was at this ball.”

Cinderella giggled. “Maybe I should go introduce myself. How much do you think she’d pay if I told her I’d ensure calm seas and a bountiful harvest?”

The prince started to reply, then cut himself off abruptly. A grin slowly split his face, as he turned to face Cinderella fully.

“Just how badly do you want to get away from your stepfamily?”

She grimaced. “More than anything.”

“Enough to marry a man you just met?”

Her eyes widened, and a matching grin began to spread across her own face. “Perhaps.” Her face turned sly again. “Or, maybe not a man I just met. I’d have to know him for at least a few hours first…” she glanced through a window. “How long until midnight?”

Reginald also turned to look. “I’d say two hours. Why?”

“I wanna be dramatic about it. Might explain later.”

The prince found himself smiling wider at the girl’s obscurity, which he was quickly growing familiar with. “Well then. Might I offer you a tour of the gardens while we wait?”

Prince Reginald held out his hand once more, and Cinderella took it without hesitation.

[lonesome-witching]

The Mole Men and the Diamond Ring

Another prompt from @rabbitofdeath-atcastleaarrggh, I know you still have a lot pending. I am working on them. This one is a special take on Robin proposing to Nancy, featuring Nancy being about as sleep deprived as I am. Any spelling errors can be explained due to that. As always I hope you enjoy. (For context this is part of the I Think We're Alone Now universe but due to the length this is taking I will not tag the previous parts any longer. It can be read as a stand alone)

You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

The first day Nancy pulled an all-nighter to work on her mother’s wedding stuff, no one said anything. It was Nancy after all, and all-nighters were a given. The second night, Robin asked her girlfriend to turn in for the night but didn’t make a fuss when the girl refused.

But the third night was where Nancy’s loved ones drew the line. Joyce sat down next to her future daughter in law and asked the girl to just go to bed. She even assured Nancy that they had it covered. Nancy pulled the papers with the planning into her bed and staid up till morning.

The fourth night, Karen approached her daughter. She had put her hands on her hips and told her daughter that she had to go to bed, or she’d be grounded for a month. Nancy went to her room with the intent of going to sleep, only to grab her notebook and before she fully realized it, the sunlight was shining into her bedroom.

The fifth night, Jonathan offered her 20 dollars if she would just go to sleep. Nancy didn’t even bother to pretend.

It was after that, that it became obvious only one person could get Nancy to go to sleep. The problem was that Robin was working overtime at the video store. She hadn’t been over at all that week. She did call. And those appeared to be the only moments that Nancy wasn’t working herself to the bone. But eventually Robin would fall asleep and Nancy would dive back into her work, despite how hard Robin tried to get her girlfriend to go to sleep. Nancy refused. The closest anyone got was when Robin tried to seduce her into bed. But even that didn’t end up working.

Nancy fully realized she wasn’t the only one working herself to the bone. Robin herself was doing the exact same thing. And it didn’t make sense. Robin always made time for her. Except for now. And that could only mean one thing.

Robin was planning something.

So, whenever Nancy took a break from wedding planning, she tried to figure out what Robin was up to. She had written her ideas down in one of her many nearly filled notebooks. The list started with a surprise party and ended with her most recent addition: Robin was planning a surprise dance routine that she would perform with a group of mole men that were hiding under Hawkins.

It seemed plausible enough. The problem was that she didn’t like mole men, and Robin knew that.

Nancy vaguely registered that the doorbell rang. But she couldn’t be bothered to go and open it. Not that it really mattered. She heard her mother’s voice greeting whoever was visiting. Probably one of Mike’s friends.

But then she heard Robin’s voice reply and laugh softly and her head shot up.

“She’s in the kitchen, working as always,” her mom said.

Robin didn’t reply, at least not that Nancy could hear. But a few moments later Robin walked into the kitchen. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“I’m alright,” Nancy replied. She turned the page of her notebook, back to wedding stuff.

“Not tired?” Robin asked, her hands landing on Nancy’s arms. Nancy simply shook her head. “Too bad, your mom said I can sleep over if I can get you to bed. I thought we could take advantage of it.” Robin moved her hands up and down.

Nancy exhaled. She could feel her eyes falling shut at the comforting movement. “Robin, I have work to do.”

“That work will still be there tomorrow.”

Nancy sighed. But she reopened her eyes. She had to get back to work.

“Nancy, come to bed with me.” Robin had bend down, whispering into Nancy’s ear.

And maybe it was Robin’s raspy voice. Or the way Nancy could feel her breathing. But for the first time in a week, she gave in. She allowed Robin to pull her from the chair and to drag her upstairs.

It was halfway up the stairs that Nancy started babbling. “I know what you’ve been up to.”

“Oh,” Robin whispered. She faltered in her step, before regaining her footing and continuing up, pulling Nancy along.

“Yeah, you are in cahoots with the mole men to perform a dance. And you know I don’t like mole men. They make me uncomfortable.”

She could feel Robin’s body shake more than she could hear her laugh. They finally reached the top of the stairs.

“It’s not funny. I think it’s a little rude, actually.”

“I’m sorry, Nance. I’m not laughing, I promise. But you have to get to bed, right now.”

“No, not until you promise me to abandon your mole men plan.” Nancy slapped Robin’s arm for emphasis as they walked into her room.

“If you go to bed right now, I will cancel the mole men instantly.”

“Okay, good.” Nancy fell on the bed. She didn’t even bother to get changed. She didn’t even get to see Robin’s lovesick eyes staring at her.

-

She could hear a soft tapping noise. A soft groan escaped her before she could open her eyes. But when she did, she saw Robin sitting in her desk chair, still holding on to a pen.

“Good morning,” Nancy yawned, stretching her body. She had to admit she felt refreshed.

“Nance,” Robin said.

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?”

Nancy could feel a sense of dread pushing its way up her throat. She was worried she was about to throw up. But she could feel her own head nodding.

“I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you. I still can’t believe you love me back, that you want to be with me.” Robin got up from the chair and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to Nancy. “This time with you has been the best time of my life. And I know that we’re young. But I also know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Loving you and making sure you get some sleep after long nights. So, what I wanted to ask you was— I just— Nancy, will you marry me?”

Nancy watched as Robin pulled a small box out of her pocket, only to reveal a diamond ring.

“Yes,” she said quickly. “Yes, I will marry you.”

It was odd how quickly she was able to decide. She didn’t even need to think about it. She had never thought about marriage once, had never seen it as something for her, but with Robin it just made sense. Because she did want to spend the rest of her life with Robin.

“Yes?” Robin asked. As if she couldn’t believe she had heard it correctly.

“Yes, of course. Of course, I will marry you.” Nancy pulled her girlfriend closer, locking their lips together. “I love you,” she whispered against Robin’s lips.

“I love you too. That’s why I cancelled the mole men.” Robin was smiling brightly.

“Oh no, I can’t believe I said that. I call temporary insanity.” Nancy was hiding her blushing cheeks behind her hands.

“I think it was mostly sleep deprivation. But it was kind of cute.”

“You have to say that because you love me.”

“And yet I mean it too.” Robin pecked Nancy’s lips before sliding the diamond ring on Nancy’s finger.

“How did I get so luck?” Nancy asked, diving in for another kiss. A longer one, one she could drown in.

The door swung open. “Nancy, I know you mean well and me and your mother appreciate it. But you can’t keep staying up every single— Oh.” Joyce stood in the doorway. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“It’s alright, Joyce. You’re not interrupting anything. And I will assure you, Robin made sure I got the full eight hours of sleep.”

“Oh, that’s wonder— What is that?” Joyce stared at the diamond ring with wide eyes.

[practically-an-x-man]

— “not that i’m not enjoying being used as your pillow, but i think we’d be more comfortable in bed.”

Oooh alright! This is a really cute prompt (one of my favorites from the list tbh) so I'm struggling to pick out which couple I want to write this for. I'm thinking... hm, I'm still on that Eris and Rick kick, and they could use some fluff after that angst piece I wrote before, so let's go with that.

____ Late Nights

Word Count: 1.1k Content Warnings: none! (I guess a little swearing and teasing?) ____

It had been a difficult mission. No casualties, thank goodness, but it had been 72 continuous hours of crowded transit, drawn-out fights, and whining ex-cons. Blackguard alone was enough to drive them both half-mad, and it nearly earned him the point of Eris' spear. Rick had stopped her just in time, but... if she was going to lose her patience with anyone on the squad, he'd probably be missed the least. Insubordinate prick. Almost made Rick yearn for his military days.

But they'd all made it back safe, with ten years knocked off their sentences, and it meant Rick earned himself another night of semi-peaceful sleep.

Though he wasn't doing that just yet. The adrenaline of that last fight hadn't quite worn off, and it left him feeling too restless to sleep. They'd been caught by surprise right at the end of the mission, surrounded, and it would've meant the slaughter of the team if Eris hadn't pulled out their final stop.

Archaic magic. Shape-changing. He'd never fully understood it. But it saved the team, though it left Eris exhausted in the aftermath. Rick had almost had to carry him back to the plane - he was so drained his legs barely functioned.

From there she'd dozed: on the plane, on the bus to Belle Reve, in Rick's truck back to the apartment. Even here, now safe and sound in his living room, they lay half-covering his body, their face buried in his chest. The television droned on, some late-night sitcom rerun he'd flicked on just to fill the silence. Rick ran his fingers through Eris' hair, the touch just enough to make them sigh.

"Y'know, for the personification of strife, or whatever the hell you claim to be..." he murmured, "You're damn cute when you sleep."

"Mm. M'not cute." Eris mumbled, her voice almost lost against the fabric of his shirt. Rick almost chuckled.

"Right now y'are, darlin'."

"Could... could cut off your head... wouldn't even know it till you saw your body land next t'you," he responded, his voice still half-slurred with sleep. Rick wasn't even sure he knew what he was saying. He ran his hand over their back in slow circles, smiling when Eris burrowed in a little closer.

"I'm sure you could," Rick agreed, completely honest, "But you won't."

"Hm. Try me."

"Do it, then."

"Tomorrow." Eris sighed, "Just you wait. You're done for, Flag."

"Sure I am. Shame, too. I was gonna make French toast." he replied without moving an inch, "Guess you'll just have to steal the wallet off my dead body and go buy yourself breakfast instead."

"Maybe I could..." they drawled, the words punctuated by a yawn, "Save it for the afternoon. Lunchtime murder."

"I'll mark my calendar."

"S'yer own damn fault," Eris mumbled, just a few moments later, "You're the one who keeps bringing... fuckin'.... m'mortal metas home to bed with you. Some point you gotta, just... expect to get'cher head chopped off."

"Yeah, I know. Occupational hazard." he agreed, faintly amused at the whole conversation. His fingers traced idle patterns over Eris' bare back and shoulders, following the lines of a few old scars. Some of them, he knew, could have been older than he was - older than his whole family line, even. The thought bent strangely at his mind. Eris had always appeared his age, even a few years younger - younger in appearance at least, though their features had a strangely ancient quality to them. The closest he'd ever seen in the modern world was in Egypt, or perhaps Türkiye, and even that was a bit... shifted.

"Y've got... concerning taste." Eris' muffled voice pulled him from his thoughts, and this time Rick couldn't stifle the low laugh that rose in his chest.

"I'm aware."

" 'N I need to get your French toast recipe." she added the moment later, the words still dragging with sleep.

"It's just bread and eggs, babe."

" 'N vanilla. The good vanilla."

"Yeah, alright, and vanilla. And a little nutmeg n' cinnamon. And a couple other things." he explained, "I can show you how to make it tomorrow. Better not leave you hanging after I'm missin' my head and all."

"Hm. I won't make it as good as you," Eris protested, shifting a little in his grip. Rick rested his hand on the back of their head, scratching his nails lightly over their scalp. Eris hummed in contentment, a sound that almost reminded him of a purr.

"You will. It's not that hard."

"Shut up, Flag. 'M tryna save your life."

"Right. 'Course. Forget I said anything." he replied, amused. Eris' back hitched, and he realized a moment later that she was laughing. It made him smile. He imagined that this was what had drawn him in from the beginning. He'd met them out on the battlefield, of course - and they were just as terrifying there as they'd always been - but he'd asked them out for a drink in exchange for saving his life, and that was where he'd gotten to see this softer side for the first time.

And he still stood by his words. Eris was cute when he was sleepy. It was awfully disarming.

"Alright, well..." Rick muttered, stretching for the remote to shut off the television. It left the room dark and near-silent, and Eris grumbled his protest. Rick ran his fingers through his hair once again, savoring its soft curls. "Not that I'm not enjoying being used as your pillow, but I think we'd be more comfortable in bed."

"Mm. Stop chasing me away."

"I think I'm doing the opposite," he pointed out, shifting to sit up as he spoke, "Besides, weren't you the one who told me to stop putting metahumans in my bed?"

"Think I meant... stop putting succubi in your bed," Eris corrected, "M'not a succubus. Doesn't count."

Rick fought hard to bite back his smile. Eris, who would push and taunt and bite but at the end of the day really did want to be near him, who'd make up any sort of excuse to admit he didn't have that fondness, who insisted time and time again that he wasn't cute, he wasn't soft, that he'd most likely kill him in the morning...

"So a war god's safe to put in my bed? 'Cause I can just leave you here, if that's what you want..." Rick let his arms loosen around them, just enough for emphasis. Eris' fingers caught his bicep in an instant, holding him before he could get too far. Rick again bit back a smile.

"Discord. Not war." Eris muttered, tracing her finger along the tattoos on his bicep, " 'N I'm not a god, n' I'm not safe. But I'll... I'll make n'exception for you."

"I'm honored." he said, and lifted them into his arms, "Here we go, darlin'."

[knightofmidnightsun]

THE NIGHTMARE NEARBY, chapter three

the corinthian x gender neutral!reader

word count: 12K

warnings: mention of death and (slightly?) description of a dead body. description of injuries and blood. angst. a lot of angst, be ready. corinthian will face a long self-doubting spiral, so prepare the tissues. BUT THERE'S SOME FLUFF IN THE END, there will be a time when it'll look like it won't come, but it will, I promise!!!

summary: the journey of a nightmare trying to fly into the warmth of the sun. and, the first wax burn that marked his skin.

A/N: I'm so sorry for taking so long to post this chapter, I was on a hiatus that last month due to my mental health and my studies, but I'm back! It's a very long chapter so I'm not sure if I had proofread everything, soon I'll check this chapter again, so I hope you enjoy it either way.

After this chapter, there will have a time jumping till the next one and I'll reblog a prompts list so you can request drabble ideas for the detective and the Corinthian during this one-month time jump!

And for last but not least, I want to thank @kameronrose, @80-s-cup-of-milk-and-honey and @ondragonhonour for helping me before, during and after my hiatus, helping me through my writing process and being patient with me lol, thank you so much, I meant it!

Now, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I do. For sure, it is one of my favorites so far.

| prologue | chapter one | chapter two | fic's masterlist |

chapter three: the corinthian and the fall of icarus

The pearly moon hanging in the center of the dark night reflected perfectly on the blade in Corinthian's hands. Especially now that he was finally done cleaning up the blood in it.

Sighing, as his breath lingered in the cold air, he tucked his blade back into one of his holsters, previously hidden by his blazer. The only thing that never left his hands was his handkerchief, now soaked in the blood of the dead young miss lying in the motel’s bed.

There was no longer a trace of white on the handkerchief, yet without any hurry, Corinthian used it to wipe the blood running from one of his eye sockets. The blood-soaking handkerchief stained his fingertips through the thin fabric but he didn’t give it a mind, doing his best to clean himself and his things from anything that could relate him to the body of the woman who was only a few steps behind him.

Unlike the others that the Nightmare had killed so far in that town, she wasn’t a boy, much less a prostitute. He never intentionally changed his victims during all the time he traveled from city to city — state to state — on a killing spree. However, now, he had to make an exception.

A little thing to stir a certain detective's head. To shake up that game of cat and mouse between you two since you were more committed to this case and its conclusion than he had initially thought.

Even when it was hours since both of you were walking through the town and drinking at that same bar, he could still hear your voice in the back of his head. How engaging you were about the case and looking forward to taking the next step tomorrow at work. Not only that but you were slightly captivated at knowing more about him — the stranger who seemed to feel all the overwhelming storm that gathered in you — and also sharing a little about yourself in return.

Silly things really, nothing that usually would intrigue the Nightmare. However, with you, any of them sounded silly at all, not even foolish. For a moment, while listening to you and saying a thing or two himself, he felt… Nevermind. That wasn’t his point.

The point was that, unfortunately, you mentioned nothing about your visions. You never did, not directly. Neither way, luckily, talking with you was intriguing enough to keep his attention until you both headed home.

He never said he was going home but to finish a job. And that he did.

The Nightmare began to dress, idly looking for his sunglasses until he found them beside the bed. By accident, as if he wanted nothing, his vision collided again with the frame of the person's body stretched out — thrilling the pattern of their own red blood covering every detail of their skin.

However, Corinthian jumped out of himself immediately when his sockets stopped at their face.

They were you. He’d recognize the contours of your face anywhere. Although, what really made him shiver was not meeting your eyes, your pair of myriad colors and emotions.

How they used to blaze every time you were motioning as you spoke. How your eyes sparkled and, suddenly, you felt more alive. You could make anyone around you feel more alive but only when you were comfortable enough to let your walls slowly give in.

When you felt safe enough to let people pry through those walls.

Safe for saying things that typically you wouldn’t be with other people but did with him. Him from all people.

You gave him the password to let him in the door and you should have regretted it.

In the past, the Nightmare laughed when someone stated that ‘eyes were windows to the soul’. There wasn’t such a thing for him. For him, eyes were the window to the truth and nothing more.

Yet, with every second he spent admiring your eyes and how your corners crinkled when your gazes met, he may or may not have learned he was wrong… In a few parts.

The eyes could be the window for the soul and the truth — because, what was a soul if not the truth about the being that carried it within itself? Wasn't a soul the chest of their past, present, and future?

Then, he took them from you.

His stomach turned at the realization, he got your eyes and ate them. At the time, he enjoyed the whole thing but now, knowing to whom they belonged, he felt sick. The Corinthian had never felt sick, he didn’t know how he knew the word or the feeling.

He just knew it felt like a stab in the chest.

Not a single stab but a thousand of them, followed one by the other. Tearing his skin apart from the inside and bringing him back to the night Dream nearly unmade him.

He had never been the one stabbed.

His vision, for the first time in decades, blurred. The blood soaking his hands and his handkerchief were yours, redder than anything he had ever seen. And for the first time, he hated himself for how that same blood had once brought comfort to his fingertips but was now nothing more than a terrible cold burden, pulling his body down and against the squeaky clean motel floor.

The Corinthian jerked his face away from your body and threw the bloody handkerchief as far into that room as possible. So that he would never find him later no matter how hard he tried.

However, when he dared to glance at the same body again, they weren’t you. They had never been you. She was a student he had met while wandering around the town that night, not you.

You had never been the one who was laying peacefully in the motel’s bed, covered in your own blood and missing both of your eyes.

Even if you were, why did it freak him out?

It didn’t make sense, the mere thought of it shouldn’t affect him. There were many reasons for that but he could start with the obvious one: he had met you for a day and a few hours. You were much a stranger to him as he was to you, except for the part where he knew your name (something you couldn’t say the same about him) and that you could or not have a link to the place where he came from.

Besides that, you being that shouldn’t bring that kind of reaction of his.

Pursing his lips in a thin line, the blonde threw himself into a chair near the window, taking his blade back from his holster and searching for a piece of wood inside his blazer. It was one of his many wooden pieces that were almost done, scraping every now or then when…

Well, you know, when he needed to think.

The blonde turned to score the wood, gently blowing away the dust and a few small pieces of wood far away, something he should clean before leaving the room.

A different thought crossed his mind at each scratch he made on the wooden piece. But the same question always made him stop what he was doing before resuming it again.

What the hell were you? Because it had to be you, right? The thing that didn't fit. What was troubling his mind and making him feel something that shouldn't be there. It could only be you, whatever your ability or your true nature was, it was making him sick.

If he knew that playing with you would backfire so fast, especially like that, he’d have followed his plan strictly that night and killed you in the first alley. Indeed, it would bring less headache than now, and it wouldn’t upset him in the same way.

Upset? He huffed to himself and resumed back to scratch his wooden piece, he wasn’t upset. Tonight wasn’t the first time he had imagined you dead, killing you with his own hands like he had done many times before — you wouldn’t be the first and let alone the last victim of his. Yet, something felt different now and he couldn’t figure out what or why.

Suddenly imagining that the blood on that handkerchief was yours, not that lady's… Brought something in him. Very different from what he felt when he killed, nothing so fleeting as since even now, while scoring his blade against the piece of wood in his hands, the Nightmare felt the stabbing sensation lingering in his core.

Similar to what he had felt when he sat by your side that night.

When you two met at the cafe the following day and he placed his hand over your gloved hand, you dared to smile at him. Or, a few hours ago, when you two went to the bar again, together, and chatted until your friend Bruce had the decency to kick you out kindly.

Just… Peaceful. Nothing had felt peaceful to him before, until you.

It wasn’t a coincidence, not at all. The Corinthian had lived long enough to know that.

He rotated the forming carving in his palm, the roughed edges grinding into his palm like a sharp reminder of the wooden hilt he had gripped only seconds ago. His lips twitched as he thought to himself, grabbing the piece before scraping it once again, trying to finish it along with the dilemma he was finding himself in.

Feeling what others don't feel changes a person in a way. It makes you more human.

It made you more human. At the point to want to hear about the interests of a Nightmare even if your conscience was aware of the danger in it. What a curious human you were, indeed.

Usually, he’d just keep going with it and wait for it to end. Despite being different from the last people he had played, you’d bored him sooner or later — just like the others — and he’d have to kill you when it happened. Not ‘have’, he ‘would’.

However, the Corinthian would have to go against his rules precisely because there was something different about you. The initial plan was to understand what you were, day after day patiently. Now, he couldn’t be patient any longer.

With the last scratch from his blade, the Corinthian looked at the finished wooden piece in his hand. How he had perfectly captured each contour and curve of the familiar figure, especially, the pair of eyes full of emotions.

Grinning down at your face engraved in wood, the blonde wondered how much those eyes hid even without their owner's knowledge.

Then, he gathered his things and fixed the scene he’d left behind. There was only one place that the Nightmare knew would have the answers he was seeking, even if have been a long time since he hadn't visited there, he was finding himself forced to change that.

Corinthian would go back to the place where once was his home.

The Dreaming had changed.

The Nightmare had predicted it would have.

It was even expected since it had been a long time since Lord Morpheus had returned to his realm. Therefore, viewing the place how it was now shouldn't have amazed him, but it did.

Lands that once were filled with a plethora of colors and annoying waves of laughter were vacant — drained to nothingness. Not a sign of life could be found as the Nightmare wandered through the outside of the palace, trying to catch any dream or nightmare still lingering at their home.

So, it hit him, there was no one to be found.

It seemed like everyone had run away, thinking that their creator abandoned them once and for all.

That brought a smile to the Corinthian’s face as he fixed the hat over his head. Perhaps, finally, the others could understand why he had fled to the Waking World — what it really meant to be free or to search for that freedom. How it was to look for something beyond what you were designed to be.

While nearing his way to the front of the palace, the Nightmare saw a few things that were still intact at The Dreaming. Despite how lonely and empty the realm felt, it looked like the House of Mystery and the House of Secrets remained strong, which meant that Cain and Abel did not leave the place. Predictable.

But they weren’t the only ones, speaking of predictable. Far away, Corinthian could see a bit of green among the grey area that covered the Dreaming grounds. The Fiddler’s Green continued to wait for his creator patiently even when most of his friends and siblings had fled.

The Nightmare wondered about the idea of visiting the dream just to nag him but ended up changing his mind. He could still remember the times he'd dared to walk among the dream’s trees and that same dream's attempts to drive the blonde out of his perfectly green lawn.

Standing close to the front doors of the palace, Corinthian gave a last look to the broken fields left of the Dreaming. For a reason he couldn’t grasp quite yet, he wasn’t smiling anymore, something in him stirred with a strange feeling. In a short time, not even the House of Mystery, the House of Secrets, or Fiddler's Green could fight the loneliness that prevailed in the Dreaming anymore, weighing on the chest of anyone who looked at the empty and lifeless place for too long.

Not that the Nightmare felt terrible about it. He didn’t, there was no world where the sight of the remains of those soulless hills made him feel remorse. The Dreaming hadn’t been his home for decades, nothing now could change how he thought about what the realm once was, what it used to mean for him.

With a sigh, he turned on his heels and watched the doors to the palace warily open for him, as who greeted someone that they used to know. And, as the Nightmare passed through them, he didn’t look back.

As the Nightmare passed through them, he didn’t look back. He just waited for the click of the door closing behind him to go towards the known path to the library.

If outside, the realm was shattered in pieces, gathering what it had left — inside the castle, everything was falling apart.

The immense pillars, perfectly carved where each contour told a story, rested in crumbles on the ground and no longer supported the magnitude of the place. The Nightmare's gaze followed its destroyed pieces' path, step after step, how they revealed to him how the grand hallways and room of the majestic Dream's palace were nothing more than an old memory.

Inside the castle, strolling to the library made Corinthian feel stranger than outside when all he had was a view of a land ravaged by the lack of its king. The walls surrounding him were a single reminder of who had brought that to the realm, the same Nightmare that dared to walk calmly through the place as if nothing hadn’t changed over the centuries.

He could hear the wind hissing at him, shifting after every turn he’d take. The palace recognized him and if it weren’t completely empty, anyone would feel the rogue nightmare aura back to the Dreaming as the place did. They would sense the air becoming heavier in his presence.

The Nightmare that strayed from the Dreaming. The being who stated that would never return. And the reason the place he was raised was on its last breath. Not that anyone knew that but probably, they could guess since their lord was looking for him before he disappeared.

It has been more than fifty years. Things at the Dreaming weren’t like before, the loneliness that the walls exhaled made it clear.

After some time, the Corinthian found the entrance to the library. A grimace was placed on his face, confused by the uncommon deafening silence — everywhere used to be noisy. It was strange not to see a familiar face squinting their eyes at him suspiciously as they mumbled about the rogue nightmare.

He shook his head to himself, it should be a blessing and not something to bother him.

Once the Nightmare got into the library, the sight gracing him left him much more confused.

As anywhere in the realm, it was falling in itself. Most of the shelves that used to fill every inch of the place, full of books and stories that were currently being written were gone. Wood pieces of those shelves were left where they onetime were. The many books that brought the endless smell of fresh papers in the air now turned into dust, covering every surface.

And no sign of the loyal librarian who cared for the Dream’s library with her whole heart.

Holy shit, how was the Corinthian supposed to find your book now? He was expecting that the entire realm would be affected by the absence of its lord… But the library?

It was a collection of every book imagined and every story of a soul, human or not. The Nightmare thought that the place could work on its own, as long as people continued to create and live.

However, it couldn’t be like before, could it? It wasn’t like how things worked. Once someone took an essential piece off the board, the rules changed.

Everything changed. Perhaps, he hadn’t foreseen this as well as he'd thought before.

The Nightmare walked past what remained of the library, searching for anything that could be resisting the fall of a kingdom. Any standing bookshelf, a book facing down the cold ground, or even a single page by itself. Nothing.

If there was any magic around there, even if a little, the blonde in sunglasses didn’t feel it. Crumbles and dust made up the place once filled with magic, to the point of being sickening to the Nightmare now roaming its voidness.

Then, after so long, all that the Corinthian met was the breath of a dying land.

For a moment, he caught himself sitting in the middle of the long-lost library, was he supposed to feel something about all of it?

Because he didn’t regret helping that charlatan to keep an Endless trapped, especially when that Endless was his creator, all he wished was freedom. And only for that did Lord Morpheus try to unmake him?

Just for dreaming?

Was it really wrong wanting to feel emotions like humanity felt? To be among them, try to look and be like them? To envy them? For fulfilling his purpose perfectly while experiencing the ephemeral sensation of being human?

No. I wasn’t. Dream of the Endless was wrong, he was a self-centered, cruel, and blind creator to believe it was, to condemn any of his creations to do something as simple as dreaming.

So, Dream deserved what it came for him. Some would even say it was karma.

Thus, why wasn't the Corinthian satisfied?

He got the freedom he had long wished for. He was among humanity and fed from their fear and distress. In a second, he could feel how mortals were gifted to feel.

And even so, it wasn’t enough until he was drawn to your way at that bar that damn night.

One time or another, what he could regret was not killing you that same night for how your mere presence affected him. But, ironically or not, your effect on him was the exact reason for him to most of the time be relieved for not killing you yet.

Relieved. One more word that he didn’t understand its meaning or sensation before you and he shouldn’t, not in the way he did. That’s why he had returned to the Dreaming, looking for your book, for something that could explain what you were.

Why, when he was around you, to feel was easier? Stronger, even.

Corinthian tsked, rummaging in his pockets. His voided sockets wandered at anything but what he fished out of a specific pocket of his blazer, it would be better if he didn’t. It was bad enough for him to have recognized what he was looking for just by tracing his fingertips into the sharp edges of the wooden piece recently carved.

Why? It was simpler to ask this, the Nightmare realized when he finally stared at the piece he held fiercely. A heavier wave of confusion washed him as he looked back at those carved eyes.

Then, he sensed it.

Like something stroking the back of his neck and forcing him to look back at a spot under some wooden planks. Instead, what was hiding there.

A large burgundy book with a gold-edged spine was tucked away in what little remained of the various shelves. A unique aura enveloped its pages, the last drop of magic still lasted in the forgotten library. It wasn't for nothing that it wasn't easily felt but now that the Nightmare acknowledged it, he could feel every new word being written on its pages.

The Corinthian pushed himself up, slowly approaching the book. From where he was, he couldn’t read what was its exact title.

The D- And that was it.

Standing up beside the planks that were hidden in the book, the Nightmare was about to kick them away when…

“... Corinthian?” The sound of a certain voice caused him to stop dead in his tracks.

“Lucienne,” the Nightmare turned around, facing the librarian with pointy ears and rounded glasses.

Ever the loyal library, even if from an abandoned realm. Perhaps, the Corinthian was wrong for quickly assuming that she’d leave the Dreaming as the others did. 

“You’ve returned,” the librarian sized the Nightmare up, carefully. Her hands gripping a book close to her chest, its title away from curious eyes, “Unfortunately, his Lordship is missing at the moment.”

Corinthian fought back a snort. Rather, grinning at her wording.

With ‘at the moment’, Lucienne meant sixty-five years and four months.

“Dream is missing? What a misfortune,” with a dramatic sigh, the blonde pretended not to notice how the librarian raised a brow at him. He didn’t answer her question and was well aware of that. As was she, perhaps that was why he felt like she could bore a hole into his skull, “Good thing I hadn’t returned, I’m only passing by”

“Hm,” Lucienne murmured skeptically, not falling for the alluring toothy smile that the Nightmare showed off, “And I suppose you do not know anything about our Lord's whereabouts?”

“I don't know what you're trying to imply with that tone,” Corinthian clicked his tongue, “Wherever Dream is, I am sure he is having all the time of the world to think.”

Usually, the librarian wouldn’t be the reason for the Nightmare to shiver. She was one of the most loyal Dream’s servants and could intimidate anyone that messed with her nerves.

Yet, when Corinthian was still a nightmare that carved wood under the comfort of a shadow in the Dreaming, Lucienne's squinted eyes and tight lips didn’t affect him. Not like it did now, as she threw daggers at him with a single stare.

“Think?” the librarian repeat the word, her voice not contained anymore. She was outraged, to say the least.

If he had to admit, it had made him shiver. It would be a secret only shared in a mundane night's silence.

Lucienne wasn’t the type of being that played following the rules of someone else’s game, especially a nightmare’s. After decades of aiding other dreams and nightmares, it could have taught her not to be deceived.

“Where the loyalty for your creator lies, Corinthian?” The librarian asked, her voice hardly above a whisper, “To fail him with such disrespect as to decide to have a part in his disappearance?”

So, she knew. The Nightmare couldn’t tell how much the librarian knew, but it was enough for her to know what was fact and what was still a shot in the dark.

Certainly, Jessamy had told Lucienne about his involvement. He remembered seeing the raven flying around the Burgess manor — because of that, he did himself the favor of warning the magician about the Dream's faithful messenger.

Yet, he had seen no sign of the raven in the Dreaming. If she were there or in the Waking World, she’d sense his presence in the realm and would make sure to be the first to confront him. Despite that, the Nightmare didn’t hear any beat of wings when him when he first stepped back into the Dreaming or now, as he discussed with Lucienne.

Did that charlatan get rid of…? Corinthian shook his head, that wasn’t something to be worried about. In fact, to celebrate, Jessamy could be quite annoying sometimes.

Then, why he wasn’t smiling anymore?

“Why should I be loyal to him?” Corinthian bit back, ignoring how hoarse his voice suddenly got, “He never had loyalty to me, not even to you or any of the others. There is a reason for almost every creation of his had fled the moment he didn’t respond to their pleas, don’t you agree?”

Listening to his words, the library frowned. The irritation in her furrowed brows and tight lips was replaced by a sympathetic look and lips pressed in a straight line, gulping back her thoughts. In a certain way, she knew where that resentment was coming from.

A long time ago, many nightmares and even dreams had blurted out about how sometimes it was difficult to feel anything for their lord but indignation.

“You misunderstand him, Corinthian,” Lucienne wasn’t hiding the sorrow painted on her features, yet if briefly. She might not tolerate the Nightmare but she felt sorry for him being unable to see things as they truly were, whether they like it or not, his twisted vision and mind were the real reason they were having this conversation.

The Corinthian wasn’t stupid, he didn’t need to take a second glance at the librarian’s face to see what was crossing her mind while she stared at him quietly. Pity, she was pitying him and he hated it.

If someone was supposed to pity, that someone was him. The Corinthian should be the one to pity the other people from the Dreaming, being sorry for them.

Sorry for Lucienne, the ones who chose to stay, and even the others servants that still had a little faith in their Lord as they lived in the Waking World. For all of them, they all were delusional, and couldn’t have the guts to cut the thread that linked them to Dream.

The Nightmare pitied them, they were the ones who didn’t understand Dream. He let out a wry chuckle, shaking the fragile walls that hold the library up with the sound of it.

“To the contrary, I see him for what he is,” he clutched at something he was holding, embracing the sharp contours in wood meeting the skin of his hand. The blonde lifted his lips and gave the librarian a mock grin, forcing the words out of his mouth, “If you think I failed with him, I don’t mind. You just can’t pretend that he didn’t fail with us first, he doesn’t care about you or me. Or for what we think.”

Lord Morpheus could have been the one who created them, but he never would be capable of truly seeing them. Being the one that brought them to life didn’t make him a good creator or Lord, quite the opposite. Precisely for being the one who gave them the breath of life, Dream didn’t see them beyond the duty that he thoroughly shoved right to their throats.

Dream of the Endless didn’t care about his servants, he only cared about himself and his kingdom.

And for that, the world was drowning in the fragments of a kingdom’s downfall.

That was the end that The Dreaming deserved, his Lord’s masterpiece, after everything that Dream had turned a blind eye to.

Lucienne not once missed the dark lenses of the Corinthian’s sunglasses — eyes and voidness locked in an unnerving quietness. Both servants of the same Lord: the loyal librarian and the rogue nightmare, which one would look away and turn their backs to that discussion?

Laying all of his bets on the table, Corinthian thought he had a good guess about who it would be. That was before the so-called 'good guess' fixed the round glasses on the tip of the nose and took a step forward toward him.

“You’re wrong, Corinthian,” Lucienne raised her chin and the Nightmare turned his nose at her insistence, “Not only for the twisting view you have of Lord Morpheus and for what you did to him… But for how you have harmed the Waking World and the Dreaming while doing so”

Had he?

The Nightmare doubted that… Decades ago, when he had nothing to be confused or uncertain about.

Still, something was different now. He didn’t know why. Still, something was different now. He didn’t know why but his head was constantly rewinding to what he had witnessed once he arrived back in the realm of dreams and nightmares. A land that had lost its life and colors, followed by grey clouds ready to start an endless storm.

After, all of them came in. The doubts.

And, if anyone wanted to hear some sincerity coming from Corinthian, the last thing he needed was more doubts. The number one reason for him to be there, at the Dreaming, was to crack the doubts that he already had back in the Waking World.

Therefore, he honestly didn’t need Lucienne instigating the new tide of doubts that broke in his thoughts, flooding each one of them. Despite his will, it came to him anyway.

Memories of how agitated and vivid those lands used to be when even the darkest spots used to bring comfort and not shivers, were shuffled with the brutal reality images of how the kingdom was now. A realm of dust and crumbles.

All by taking the card from the house of cards base.

The Corinthian looked away, rubbing his forehead. The staring contest between him and Lucienne didn’t matter anymore — it had never mattered — not when he was trying to look for the quickest way to put his head back to place.

A nightmare being tormented by his own mind, who would have thought about that day would come? Not him.

Corinthian sighed deeply, darting his tongue across his dry lips. Who had built that house of cards in the first place?

“Now, am I really the one to blame?” His low voice swallowed the silence in the library, Lucienne studied him carefully, paying no mind to the wind attempting to scare a nightmare off, “Everything I had done was to be free, if anything it’s thanks to me that the others finally gave in to what they always wanted to. Besides their duties and what they were created for, without fearing Dream punishing them for doing so.”

Knowingly, he said the last part bitterly, biting the two words and swallowing them down.

Some of the words the librarian had given him with such certainty were still running wild between the tracks of his train of thought, so he had all the right to refund them in some way. Paying for every letter, every gap, and every wound they unwittingly inflicted on his nonexistent soul back.

Mockingly, the Corinthian bowed his head in Lucienne’s direction, “You could follow suit and give it a try. Who knows, you might like it”

One last strike into the librarian’s nerve, carried by poison in every curve in his words.

Lucienne winced slightly, realizing the vicious teasing behind the Nightmare’s suggestion. If she didn’t have any self-control or sense, she’d smack him with the very book in her hands, Corinthian didn’t even need to read much in her narrowing eyes to acknowledge that.

Wait… Did the librarian hold a book? The Nightmare furrowed his brows, lowering his vision to the servant’s hands — there, she indeed was carrying a book when she first encountered him in the library. Perhaps, the book under the pranks wasn’t the only one persevering the loneliness of a kingdom?

The book. Glancing at the burgundy book hidden in the resemblances of a shelf, Corinthian remembered what he had found and tried to take a look before he was interrupted. Lucienne’s presence almost made him leave without what he had just found.

Even during his discussion with the librarian, if the Nightmare focused enough, he’d feel the magic pulling him to the collection of pages in a cover. Mesmerized by the familiar aura enveloping and sheltering it from the realm’s decay.

If he closed his eyelids, even briefly, he’d go back to the days when everything used to feel enough.

And now what lingered in the bare of his being was a longing nonsatisfaction. Despite how much he had achieved.

“If you really wished for that freedom that you so roguishly conquered,” Lucienne’s voice stood above the Nightmare’s train of thought again, bringing his attention back to her quipped brows, “why have you returned now?”

Corinthian raised a brow back to her, glancing between the librarian and the book she held, “I said I’m passing by”

“And I don’t believe you,” Lucienne rolled her eyes, fixing her posture. Her analytical stare bored through the pair of sunglasses that the Nightmare wore, trying to decipher his true intentions back in the Dreaming, “I’ll ask you again and I wait for an appropriate answer: why are you here?”

Fucking hell, the Corinthian pressed his lips into a thin line. What should he say? If he wanted Lucienne out of his way and to take that book without her nosiness, he should give her some type of answer. How much of the truth he could tell her without feeding her suspicions about him?

The half of it? The tenth of it?

“I was looking for a book,” Corinthian opened his arms, glancing around where he kept his two feet. The place hadn’t changed a bit since they started their little conversation, it still hung by a thread, “But I guess I won’t find it here.”

Lucienne tilted her head, looking the Nightmare up and down. Disbelief was clearly written over her features.

“A book,” Lucienne could believe what she had just heard. With a grin, Corinthian slowly nodded to confirm that she hadn’t heard wrong. The librarian scoffed, that sounded ridiculous, even for a nightmare, “You’re saying that your search for a book brought you back to a place you had sworn never come back to?”

The Corinthian shrugged, “Is it so hard to-”

“What is the name of the poor soul you want to read about before killing them?” Lucienne cut Corinthian off like a blade crossing thin air. Immediately, the Nightmare’s vision snapped back to her, taking time to process exactly what she had said.

Anyhow, both were oblivious to how the ground shook beneath their feet toward the insinuation. The librarian took upon Corinthian’s lack of answer to continue, “As you have been killing many others through the last decades?”

And that was her mistake.

The sound of the Corinthian’s jaw setting is swallowed by the library, his three mouths gritting his teeth in an iron grip. The Nightmare didn’t have veins or blood to run through them but, somehow, he thought he listened to the sound of blood flushing furiously inside of his head. Probably, it could be blood, it would explain why he was seeing red.

From outside the library and the palace, the clouds trembled. The Dreaming’s sky was completely painted gray and black, covering the lands in a big and cold shadow.

Now, Corinthian knew that Lucienne didn’t know about the detective. There was no way she would, that was a fact. That was supposed to be obvious.

Nonetheless, the facts didn’t matter, on the contrary. He didn’t like the implication that was intertwined in the librarian’s words, the incredulity in her tone when she referred to you as one of his next victims.

Like the ones who he amused himself by inviting them to the night, luring them to the comfort of his embrace before stabbing their backs. Then, with hands soaked in blood, taking their eyes out with the help of his blade, devouring them — blissfully enjoying the bittersweet taste lingering in his mouth, filling his chest with delight. Temporary, but still a pleasure, it used to satisfy him.

However, you were nothing like them. One day, you’d be one of his victims? Yes, he’d have to kill someday soon, but it would never be like how he had done with the others.

Not because he didn’t want to but because he couldn’t do such a thing. Not with you.

At the end of the day, besides all the Corinthian's attempts, they wouldn’t change how he felt anytime he imagined his hands soaked in your blood and your eyes consumed by his voidness. His stomach turned upside down just from trying to view you without your eyes, empty sockets and stolen soul.

Would your aunt be right? Would you forever be stuck in the mundane world if he took your eyes off you?

Incapable of finding peace?

There was no world where he could do it with you, submit you to a fate as being trapped in an eternity of loneliness. As long it was with any other boy or girl, it didn’t bother him. The Nightmare didn’t care about any of them, they didn’t deserve what was given to them.

Yet, for some reason, you did.

When it was about killing you and eating your eyes, that was a sight that he could never bear. And he couldn't figure out why.

Still, somehow, realizing that made the Nightmare’s limbs feel like they were made of lead.

“You’re wrong in assuming I’m searching for a next victim’s book, Lucienne,” Corinthian muttered, the words spat out dryly. Although he stiffed his posture back and tried to regain his control over the discussion, the Nightmare let out his annoyance when he clenched his teeth along his tone.

What he actually wanted to say was a single question: How could you think this of me? But, that could be easily retorted with an even better question.

How wouldn’t she?

After all, he is the Corinthian. Regardless of knowing that much, the Nightmare rested a hand over his chest, “Even I am not that sadistic, not at this point”

Lucienne blinked at that, dropping her arms to the side so she could take a better look at the blonde. Was he joking? He had to be, she hoped he was. However, the way he wasn’t chuckling in the way he used to do, was enough to tell her that he meant it. Which didn’t make sense, because yes, he was that sadistic.

Worse than being a nightmare, terror being the core of his nature, he had been corrupted by the evil in himself and humanity. Corrupted by what he was and what originally was his purpose.

Scanning the Nightmare’s form, the librarian searched for anything that could answer the unspeakable question that lingered in the air, absorbed by the walls in the library was raising — one that, as well, pickled in the back of her mind.

Because the nightmare before her can’t be the same nightmare that she witnessed running away from their realm. So, what was he?

What had changed him during the years he had been with humanity?

For all the librarian knew, the consequences of Dream being kept away from his duties could affect the Corinthian in the Waking World, right? Mess with the bareness of his existence? As it would probably affect any other dream and nightmare who fled to live among the humans.

No, it didn’t make sense. If that was ever the case, the other dreams and nightmares would have already come to her and reported anything hypothetically wrong with them.

So.. Could it be a curse? Did the nightmare cross the wrong person in the past decades? Maybe a demon, sorcerer… Anyone powerful enough to put him under a hex that forced him to feel a drop of human empathy, since all he wanted was to feel like humanity did.

But if someone cursed or plagued by evil was walking through the Dreaming, any servant there would had felt something off. And, Lucienne hadn’t sensed any magic in the nightmare that didn’t belong with him.

Lucienne remembered too well that even a few years after his escaping, Lord Morpheus was having to deal with the huge trail of bodies that the Corinthian had in his tail, accompanied by a wave of dread and terror that washed over the humans that he crosses ways. He hadn’t changed at that time, and that was one of the reasons their Lord decided to put an end to this matter and unmake him.

Therefore, what was different now? After so many years? Decades? Almost a century?

The librarian was running out of answers. Nothing made sense, it was like she was overthinking it.

Yet, she wasn’t. Something had changed, she just couldn’t quite grasp what.

Not until…

Puzzled, Lucienne drew her brows together, eyes stopping at the track.

“I thought you had stopped wood carving,” she noted out loud, eyes fixed at what Corinthian held fiercely in one of his hands.

Corinthian’s face dropped by the librarian’s voice, what she was pointing to with her wise eyes.

He was supposed to have kept it back in one of his pockets when Lucienne entered his space, but he forget it. How did he not notice that he was still holding his figure? And, instead, unconsciously found comfort in holding it tight.

For a nightmare as clever as him, he was losing touch.

“Looks like you're back with your old hobby,” choosing to ignore the Nightmare’s quiet shock, Lucienne added.

The way she was saying, prompting the subject, wasn’t helping the Corinthian to understand where the librarian wanted to go with it. What was the importance of him going back to wood carving or not?

It had nothing to do with what they had discussed in the last few minutes.

So he decided to take that rope she was giving him anyway, without giving it a mind. If it would help to distract Lucienne, he would willingly pull the rope.

“Stop is a strong word, I just wasn’t interested anymore for a while,” Corinthian shrugged it off, fixing his sunglasses, “Humans would call that a pause”

“I see,” the librarian stepped closer to the Nightmare, calmly, “You started to wood carve again when you arrived at the Waking World?”

Corinthian raised a brow at the question, pondering it carefully. What was so interesting about he wood carving again? When he used to do his hobby in the Dreaming, no one commented about it or his little creations, much less Lucienne.

“No…?” he tilted his head, incapable of reading the now Dreaming’s keeper, what she had running on her mind.

As a matter of a fact, it had been three days since he started wood carving again.

Trying to be as casual as possible, without causing any fuss, the Nightmare slipped the wooden figure back into his blazer pocket. He didn’t appreciate the idea of not knowing what was boiling in the librarian’s mind while locking her eyes on his piece.

“Is someone you met?” Lucienne asked, dipping her head. In response, the Nightmare furrowed his brows, not understanding what she was asking exactly. What was she referring to now? Towards the lack of an answer, the librarian pointed to his pocket, “I’m talking about the figure. It doesn't look like anyone I met from the Dreaming or any other realm”

Oh…

Corinthian sneered at himself, contemplating the situation where he was put as his eyes echoed the sound. Mocking the Nightmare themselves, even when they were him.

It was almost tragic if not frustrating. If he was alone in the library, he’d have screamed until he could understand what humans meant by their ‘lungs burning’.

Lucienne tricked him in her own game. It had been a long time since they weren't playing cards according to his rules, but hers. And without realizing it, the Nightmare fell into the librarian's trap.

He was cornered and in the exact place that Lucienne wanted him to be. In a position where even if he answered her or refused to, he would be giving her an answer anyway.

The Nightmare tutted, tilting his head while analyzing what had led him to where he stood.

The librarian could be quiet and always in her place in the past, knowing when was her time to speak or not. However, she was always there, somehow. When things unfolded and another servant needed to her to the wise, whether they like it or not, Lucienne was there like a shadow. An annoying one, in the Corinthian’s opinion, she always had some advice to give.

Unlike any of the other creations, dreams or nightmares, Lucienne was one of the few who was well aware of what the Nightmare was: his story, the moment he violently rose, and what he had become from there.

Therefore, of course, she’d have noticed that something was off.

From the moment that she stopped at the entrance of the library and her eyes locked on the Nightmare, she knew. Whatever it happened in the Waking World, it made the Corinthian return to what once was his home, in search of an answer or of what could solve his problems back in the Waking.

The very world that he adamantly claimed from the bottom of his being, the only place where he could be free. For the Nightmare to break his own vow and leave quickly that same world before going back, something would have scared him.

Him. The Corinthian. The Nightmare. The reflex of humanity.

What would scare such a being?

Would be the same thing that brought back his interest in wood carving back? An old habit that the Nightmare used to have even before Lucienne existed. A thing that he treasured and kept with him before he went to the Waking World for the first time, along with their Lord? And which, after that, when he was once back to the Dreaming, was never seen around again.

To make the Corinthian fall back to one of his old hobbies, a forgotten one even by himself, it needed to be something powerful. It wouldn’t be for anything that would make a nightmare get glimpses of his old self and question what he had achieved — how he had, the cost.

Then, the final card was the wooden figure. When Lucienne had her eyes on it, she finally understood.

What was more powerful than a human’s heart?

Nothing.

No, the Corinthian took a step back. He refused.

He can’t bear the idea of Lucienne knowing all of that. And, even if she did, that being his true.

Or, worse, what if the librarian discovered more about you? Would she ask for a dream or nightmare she trusted to warn you about him? Make sure you find out about his true nature? What he has done?

Would Lucienne be that cruel? With him?

Corinthian can’t let that happen. What would you do if you knew everything through someone else?

“I think we’re done here,” the Nightmare didn’t care about the strange book that he had found before Lucienne arrived, not really.

He wouldn’t be there any longer, he couldn't let Lucienne get more answers out of him than she already had. His questions could be left to think about later, but now they weren't on his top priorities anymore, “I won’t entertain you anymore with my presence”

Bumping into the librarian’s shoulder, the Corinthian passed by her. When he felt her eyes following his back, he ignored them.

The Nightmare still was clever enough to leave when it was necessary. Even if it meant that he had lost in their game.

In the Corinthian’s command, the wind returned to involve his body in a tight hold, a gale reserved for him and him only. Dust and sand camouflaged the Nightmare in thin air, ready to follow him wherever he wanted to be.

The Dream shuddered at the Nightmare’s demand, willingly giving his ticket back to the Waking World.

“Corinthian,”  Lucienne called for him before he was completely gone from Dream’s realm again. The Nightmare expected the library to say something about their Lord, to remind him adorably that he was wrong in this matter — he imagined her saying anything to him except what spilled out of her mouth, “Whoever they are, let them be. Don’t destroy their life”

Then, with that, the rough breeze that had been there from the beginning led him back to where he belonged. To humanity.

But that didn’t stop him from hearing Lucienne’s last words to him. And they hit his intrinsic in a final blow, “Nothing good comes when you’re around, not to them”

The clicking sound of the glasses full of alcohol hitting the tables, along with the loud laughs of some drunks, was one of the few things that kept Nightmare from completely drifting his mind away.

Inside the bar, most of the people were seeking the shelter of a drink and the comforting warmth in spaces like that, anything that would make them forget about how cold it was outside. It could probably be one of the coldest nights of the season, forcing humans to find new ways to keep themselves safe from the icy breeze of the town.

For the first five minutes, Corinthian thought that it would be better if he headed to his nightly routine and didn’t meet you that night at all. Bruce, the bartender who took care of the bar at night, had seen him and greeted him? Of course. Would he probably tell you he was there and left before you arrived? For sure, after all, the bartender had a fondness for you — the reclusive detective with fickle humor.

It didn’t mean that, for a second, the Nightmare had pondered the idea of going to his routine and let the bartender tell you he had left anyway. But, he didn’t leave.

Instead, he had left the table he had taken in the back of the bar and sat on the counter’s stool.

Now, ten minutes since he had first arrived. Corinthian exchanged a word or two with the bartender, filtering little of what was said as he constantly caught himself back in what had happened in the Dreaming. The things Lucienne had said to him and what he would have said to her.

The details that were left in suspense, which were never mentioned but that had taken their places in the corner of his existence. Carving their own holes and burying themselves in him. All well aware that in the late night, when no sigh could be heard, the Nightmare would dig them up till the tip of his fingers turned to sand and clay again, trying to cling for what they were. The details, what they were? What did they mean? Why they held his unconscious conscious as their home?

In a moment, while the Corinthian drifted in and out of the conversation, Bruce mentioned something about a bottle of wine that he kept untouched in his house. At first, the Nightmare thought the bartender was trying to seduce him to his bed, it wouldn’t be the first time that a handsome man told him about a very old and expensive wine in their house that needed to be shared. That made Corinthian return his full attention to what Bruce was saying, just then noticing where he was going with the ‘untouched bottle of wine’ point.

“Do you believe it? A Château Lafitte as a gift? From 1828?” the bartender snorted, shaking his head, “That kind of stuff is rare, to not say very expensive, I almost refused but I’m sure you already know how the grumpy detective is”

“The detective?” Corinthian furrowed his brows slightly, “I didn’t quite catch, the detective was who gifted you that bottle of wine?”

“Yes, sir,” Bruce nodded, chuckling at the memory as he poured another glass of vodka for the Nightmare, “According to the dear detective, I deserved a reward for putting up with such a moody presence at the bar for a year.”

Well, that much sounded like something you would say indeed. The Corinthian nodded in understanding — for others, you were reclusive and someone of few words, rather staying in your quietness than instigating a conversation. Perhaps, it was because of it that you’d suggest sometimes that you were a complicated person to be around, the way your coworkers referred to you didn’t help you to think otherwise either.

However, you weren’t. Complicated, that was. Not for the Nightmare.

Sure, there were times when he couldn’t understand you. He still didn’t know how your abilities worked or where they came from, for example, only that they remind him of the Dreaming. That was why he had gone there and regretted it instantly, going back to the Waking World, (annoyed, he might add, it was the better word to describe his mood without going further).

Also, he couldn’t quite grasp yet the reason for you wanting people to discover their truths. What was the point in showing someone what they will continue to be oblivious about?

Okay, maybe it was your sense of justice, he could understand that. You believed that people deserved to face reality.

Although, he of all people had a say in the matter, an incontestable fact: humanity is afraid of acknowledging their truths, to confront reality, the reflex that would stare them back in the big mirror of the world. And, you could do nothing about that.

Thus, why keep trying? It was useless. If they couldn’t see what was in front of them and inside them, in their intrinsic, so they didn’t deserve to wander among the others. Someday, he hoped, you would understand — before you died, preferably.

Speaking of you… He glanced around the bar, distractible, dark lenses stopping at the bar’s doors for a second. Better late than never.

Escaping from the icy wind, you fixed your scarf and readjusted the black gloves covering your hands, protecting you from the winter's sudden potential. Flashing your eyes at a couple of drunks settled in their tabled, you winced by their shoutings and kept your hands in the pockets of your coat, as usual.

Your face didn’t carry the best of expressions, any energy you had before drained by what you had to deal with at work today. Dragging your gaze to the counter, finding where the Nightmare and the bartender were, you did your best to mask your tiredness. But it was clear, as you made your way to the stool next to him, that something had dreaded you.

The Corinthian could smell the fear leaving your pores and coating your frame. However, nothing of it was yours, but from someone else.

A flash of the face you the girl he had killed between last night and today, her expression contorted in horror and lack both of her eyes. Her blood pooled on the floor and stained the bottom of his black shoes.

The student…

“Hey Bruce,” you dipped your head, adjusting your figure over the stool. Your eyes were on the counter but, clearly, your attention wasn’t there, “Can I get a whiskey in one of those exquisite glasses and with ice?”

The bartender puffed, glancing at the Corinthian as he held a laugh, “You mean a whiskey on the rocks?”

“Good to know we’re speaking the same language,” you said with a smug, one that quickly faded from your face. The Nightmare snorted at your tone, sipping his drink — at least, he wasn’t the only one sulking anymore. Laying your arm over the counter, you faced the man in sunglasses, his hat resting in his lap, “Sorry for being late, my case is… It’s complicated”

The Nightmare took a second to contemplate you from up close since you were sitting by his side. You weren’t excited as you were when you both shared your goodbyes in the middle of the night, your eyes beaming at him as you whirled your back to him. Now, your irises felt haunted.

Gulping a lump that formed in his throat, the Corinthian frowned at himself. His mind was drowning in words, a single being played repeatedly like a broken record.

Haunted. Haunted. Haunted. Haunted. Haunt-

“And you?” you asked in return, tilting your head at the Nightmare. Instantly, he noticed a subtle scent of tobacco coming from your clothes, not your breath.

It grounded him more firmly in the present.

“A lot like you, I hadn’t the best of days,” he raised his glass, shrugging.

“Hm,” you muttered, tapping the counter as you waited for your order, “Are you okay?”

Corinthian huffed, to not say that he scoffed at your question. Not because of the question itself, but for you being the one asking it. You, who were overflowing in worrying, despite your attempts to keep all that gathering in your core. And you still cared to ask him if he was okay?

That sounded like a joke. How would he even start explaining? Better, what would he actually say?

I was working and suddenly you came to mind and it distracted me enough to make me go home and I hated it, in fact, it’s still bothering me. So could you please stop with whatever you’re doing? Because you have to know what you’re doing.

No, that wasn’t one of the best ideas, for far not the brightest.

“Are you okay?” he returned the question, “What happened, another victim?”

“I wish it had been only that,” you sighed, “But I believe things are getting harder the closer I get to the answer.”

“Well, enlighten me,” the Corinthian offered an encouraging smile, one that you returned with a nod before starting to explain.

Quickly, Bruce handed you your drink before giving the both of you a wink and going back to his work. You didn’t touch the whisky, just thanked the bartender in a mumble and ranted about how your case was going as you let the ice melt in the drink and diluted the alcohol.

And, for what it seemed, only one thing had happened as the Corinthian had predicted that day: his changing his victimology so suddenly did not only stir your head but your precinct as well.

Aside from the complete change of target, the young adult was murdered in the same way the others had. About the eyes... Like the last times, they were taken too. Nothing else had changed.

Your hands gestured in the air while you talked in a lower tone, wishing for Bruce not to hear how was the student’s state when you went to the morgue.

Her skin was coated by the smell of dead, lifeless, her clothes soaked in her blood and her chest exposed — with wounds that even if she hadn’t died in the motel, she’d not make it to the hospital. And her face…

You stopped yourself before continuing, a shiver running down your spine when you relived her fear and worry for her own life.

Her face was pure void, according to your words. You didn’t know another way of describing it. Blood tears had stained her cheeks and turned into two portals for emptiness where her eyes once were.

The Corinthian went quiet while you continued to explain what happened at your work, how your case was going, how the new victim would change it, etc. His dark lenses were fixed on your face, even if he wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying anymore. The vodka he had in his hand turned warm when the smell of tobacco in his gloves couldn’t hold his thoughts to the ground anymore, rewinding to the shadows in his being once again.

Into emptiness.

For some reason, the Nightmare could still feel that there was something in his hands. Staining, soaking, and coating them with a bloody weight. Drop by drop, he heard the vividly liquid fall from his fingertips to the drink in his glass, tainting his vodka with his wrecks.

Looking up, he could see the crumbles in his being that mimicked the ones in the Dreaming. His feet sank in sand, dust, and clay as he strolled among the nothingness that fill him. Each step left a red footprint behind him, the tracks of a fallen creation. A killer.

Wasn’t that what he was supposed to be? The truth about humanity was ugly, horrible, and gloomy — his purpose was that, to represent that side of them. To defy them to see the shadows of their reflex, a sight they wouldn’t dare to face when they were awake.

So, he would make them see it himself. Acting like them, camouflaging among them and killing the ones who didn’t know how to enjoy what they had. Feeding from their eyes and enjoying it himself, for once, the Nightmare could feel like humans did.

And then, he was greeted by the void again. Vacancy.

Everything that, now, the Dreaming reflected too.

The Corinthian bit the inside of his cheeks, looking for anything that would push that memory away, even pain. But he felt nothing, sand filled his tongue and vanished at the same second, leaving a bitter taste instead.

The Dreaming was a part of Dream, as Dream was a part of the Dream, and he — a nightmare — was made with the resemblances of Dream, his creator. Would that mean that Dream was feeling like he felt? That lack of everything and nothing at the same time?

Something in thinking about it, made the Corinthian feel sick. Sicksicksicksicksicksick, an unfamiliar word with a new meaning and he hated everything about that word. It implied that he felt bad about his creator if it was true if Dream was really passing through what he has been in his entire existence.

That hole grew bigger and bigger in his core.

And, if that was the case, he couldn’t feel sick about it. He should be satisfied with it. Eventually, Dream would understand him.

“Even if one of the offices behind those other cases replies to my letter, it will be useless,” the sound of your voice slowly grounded him back to his stool. If you had noticed that the Corinthian wasn’t entirely there, you didn’t say anything about it, “Until there, my case will close, unfinished, and I won't be able to continue it from here.”

“What?” the Nightmare drew his brows together, “What do you mean?”

You pressed your lips in a thin line, sipping your drink for the first time.

“MacDonald got in touch with the cops in the other cities, the closest from here, asking them about the victimology, and who answered her said that my case matches their old cases,” Corinthian’s sockets widened, raising his brows at it and returning to drink again. He would need it, “My unsub has been working for ten years, if not more”

Way more, the Nightmare pursed his lips. It wasn’t like he was going to count how many years had passed since he'd started, it had certainly been over fifty.

It started before Dream was captured. So, there was the math.

His lips turned into a pout when the name emerged again in his mind. Dream.

“Sorry if you had already explained, I’m just trying to understand,” the Corinthian fixed his sunglasses, twitching his nose, “But why this means that you will close your case?”

Drumming your finger on the surface of the counter, you looked away from the Nightmare in silence. The same lullaby was playing constantly, it made the skin of the Corinthian tremble as if they were strings trying to follow a melody’s chord.

He felt that wave again. Emotions threatening to escape from your chest and that claimed for him to reach them one more time. Like he had done the other times.

However, this time, the Nightmare chose to ignore it. To let the wave pass through him and don’t adventure in the deep of those waters. To not swim further.

Just stay.

Suddenly, he felt it. Vividly.

That feeling when you would be drowning and the water filled the bottom of your lungs, digging its way into your organs, tissues, flesh, and core. Lungs screaming for oxygen, pleading for it even a bit, anything that would make the pain go away. The burning.

The Corinthian’s lungs were burning.

Despite him not having lungs or feeling pain, not as humans would do.

But, he felt.

“It’s just that…” you stopped yourself, the words trembled every time you opened your mouth, “The others officers, from these other cities, they all said the same thing, you know? The unsub always leaves after he murders the seventh victim, he moves from town to town, taking advantage of the officers who don’t give his cases a second thought.”

That… That was true.

The Corinthian pinched the bridge of his nose when he remembered that. Remembered by you. How had he forgotten a crucial thing as it?

It could be because he had never shortened the time between his killings. Or because he had never been that absorbed before.

Enjoying more what happened after the killing and the delight than the process itself.

That wasn’t optional: he should find his next victim.

But, it would mean that he’d have to leave the town soon after. And, if he left, he could just let you continue here.

Everything that Corinthian was planning to do in the future far away would have started to be set in motion. That idea, unlike when he first thought about it, didn’t bring him any excitement. Or amusement. In reality, it made that burning feeling return to his lungs.

His chest.

“MacDonald just took information from them because she technically forced them to re-check closed cases and even so, it will be for nothing” Your glass of whisky danced in your hand, sparkling under the bar’s dim lights. You frowned at the whisky, glancing at the Nightmare, “Probably, tomorrow another body will be found, and even if get to the motel instead of asking for the cops to bring the victim to the station… The unsub will be on the road already, he could be anywhere.”

Yes, he could.

The Corinthian mimicked your frown, taking in what you had just said. The agony of drowning in the void as you wait for a helping hand or for that torture to end — but nothing ever coming to happen.

Condemned to the lack of a something, an anything. A conclusion.

The lack of everything and nothing. That would make you two, right?

After the bar, both of you would be doomed to a similar fate. You would have to die without your answers while he would have to keep living without his answers, but the doubts you planted in his head.

And your blood in his hands.

The Nightmare winced at the mere thought, seeing his blade cutting through your fresh. Only one time, he wouldn’t have the courage to stab you more than once. So, for that, he’d have to hit you in your head, more specifically, your medulla oblongata.

You would die ten seconds later, gazing at him in his empty sockets while one question lingered in the air and you’d never find the strength to make it. Why? Then, your eyes wouldn’t close, they would continue to stare at him, emotionless. Completely numb, empty, just a void of what you were.

A reflex of him.

He’d never find in himself to close your eyelids. Or maybe, he would, not wishing to remember you in that way.

He needed to remember you by the way you’d look at him while explaining something that you didn’t have sure he’d understand — but it didn’t matter, because he would be paying attention, and that was enough. Not only by how your eyes widened at him, pouring how you felt out but your determination, what some would assume to be stubbornness. Yet, he appreciated it, even when he didn’t understand why you kept doing what you did, he liked that you weren’t one of giving up.

You never were or would be. You were the type of person that wouldn’t die without pulling up a fight, trying until your last breath to carry on.

The Nightmare’s hand hovered over the pocket of his blazer, feeling the edges of the wooden figure there.

He had to make a decision.

“You seem too positive about that,” the Corinthian remarked in a mutter, loud enough for you to hear and bring your attention back to him.

It was inevitable, the wanting to kill would strike again and he’d give in to it.

He’d have to murder another victim, no matter when.

“What do you mean?” it was your turn to ask.

That was the key: no matter when.

The Corinthian grinned at your question as if you had asked exactly what he wanted to hear.

“You had said to me that the killer probably is killing and setting his scenes as he does because he wants attention,” the man in sunglasses quipped a brow, pulling his drink away from him, “Especially from the press”

“Yes…?” you furrowed your brows, folding your arms, “Where you want to go with it?”

“Calm down, sweetheart, I was already getting there,” the Corinthian held his hand up, not noticing how you lowered your head, bashfully, “As you said, none of the other officers even investigated the case, so until now no one had instigated his interests”

Not that he didn’t want attention.

After years of murdering and rarely being a topic around common people, he had grown to like the mornings after the murder.

When he’d walk among the humans, waved by the sun upon his head, while they were utterly unaware of the horribles of the other night. The danger that was nearby.

It wasn’t something that you needed to know, though.

“What are you suggesting?” you abandoned your drink, narrowing your eyes at the man in sunglasses.

“Give what he wants,” the Corinthian offered, drumming the counter as you did before, “I know people that if I knock on their door right now, would have it published tomorrow morning”

With a threat. But the point was that they would do what he asked them to do.

You opened your mouth, then closed it and opened it again.

“Would you do that?” you asked, trying to hold back a smile. Either way, the corners of your lips turned up, “Seriously?”

“Of course, I would,” he flashed you a smile, genuine this time, “Am I not a journalist?”

Your face relaxed in relief, tears threatening to escape from your eyes while you stare at his sunglasses. Your gloved hands gripped the stool where you were sitting, not knowing exactly what to do with them. Perhaps, if you weren’t so afraid, you’d ask him if you could hug him.

“You don’t know how much this means to me, thank you,” you brushed your shoulders against his, briefly, “I owe you this one”

“No, there is no need for such a thing,” the Corinthian shook his hands, resting them over the counter, “See this as I doing a favor for a friend”

Friend? Was that what you were?

“Huh, if you say so,” you nodded, “I’m sure you would like a last drink before heading to some of your contact’s house?”

The Corinthian chuckled, “I’m not one to refuse a drink when offered”

You laughed at him, much lower than the others in that bar and, yet, sweet.

“Bruce, please,” you called the attention of the bartender, who quickly perked up at your order from his position behind the counter, “One round to me and…”

The sentenced paused there, remaining in the air. Your eyes stopped at the being by your side again, as if you waited for something.

It took a couple of seconds for the Nightmare to realize.

His name. You were asking for his name.

He was taken aback by that, fixing his position on the stool sheepishly.

You didn’t want any of you to be a stranger anymore. That made his chest burn again, but not in a bad way like before, it was something else.

Let your name run around or, worse, give a face to said name was a dangerous thing to do. It would only bring you trouble for the person.

“Hm,” Corinthian scratched the back of his neck, “You can call me Cori”

But the Nightmare was willing to take the risk.

Your brows rose, “Cori?”

He liked how the name sounded in your mouth, how your lips moved along the letters. It felt right when you repeated, coating the world in honey and turning it into a sweet melody, a lullaby. A dream.

Everything that he lacked.

“Did I get it right?” your eyes crinkled when you questioned, lowering your head in his direction.

Cori smiled again, nodding, “Yes, and you? I suppose you have a name, detective”

Rolling your eyes, you pondered it for a moment.

A name wasn't something that someone should give to any one.

In the end, names held power. Identities were made by names, and names molded souls. Once you gave a name to something, it became real, it had a meaning.

Yet, you gave yours to him freely.

And, even with Corinthian knowing what was your name way before you knew his, it was there.

At the moment that his chest filled with flames that burned but couldn't be felt.

The beginning of the downfall of a nightmare.

.

next chapter.

.

Taglist: @slashersimp101 @mavsketch @lostcause514 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @morallygr4ygay @milleca @ravenous-says-stuf @smoke-n-fiire @laydreams @kameronrose @mischiefmanaged71 @seraferna @lupinlie (if you want to be added, let me know!)

[sleeperswakewriting]

Prior to the creation of The Special Operations Squad, Petra and Levi meet in line at the tea store almost every week. After constantly running into each other, Levi finally asks her out.

Rating: G

Word Count: 600

Thanks for the prompt! I'm dusting off the old writing cobwebs, so it's a bit rusty.

---

Levi tapped his foot against the wood floor. He checked the clock above the cashier for the fifth time in the past minute, the ticking sound becoming more and more grating as the seconds passed. He timed his heel with the beat, counting how long it would for his tea to cool to an acceptable temperature, all while staring at the clock, waiting for the minute hand to hit the thirty mark. 

The chimes of the door jingled, and instantly, Levi turned, a wash of relief enveloped him as he caught sight of a familiar ginger. She waved as she took off her mittens, her scarf covering half her face, and Levi’s eyes remained fixed on her while she ordered her usual. 

“Chai tea latte with a splash of milk, thanks!” 

His black Earl Gray steamed in front of him, the chilly air creating dancing vapors, and Levi swallowed. Relief turned into anxiety and the clock seemed too loud, and he wanted to hide in the muffled murmurs of the other patrons. 

“They said it would take a minute,” Petra said, sliding into the seat across from him. Her usual spot. Their usual spot of the past six months, Levi’s table of nearly two years until she chatted him up, noticing that he ordered tea at the same time as her. He came here every afternoon, and she only on Fridays due to her student schedule and budget. 

Without prompting, Petra started talking about her day, her classmates that Levi had become familiar with and was able to follow by name, and complained about the weather. He agreed it was frigid, preferring the springtime himself, another thing they agreed upon. 

“Order for Petra!” the barista called. 

“That’s me!” 

In the short seconds that Petra took from the table to the counter, Levi’s heart hammered in his chest. He deserved good things. He deserved to have a life outside of the Scouts. That’s what Erwin said, what Hange teased him about. He was content as long as he had three square meals and a roof over his head. At least that’s what he thought until he met her. Now all he could think about were her smiles, counting down the days till Friday, and making mental lists of things to talk about. Despite his high rank in the military, he admitted his life was painfully boring when he wasn’t fighting Titans. Petra volunteered at soup kitchens, knitted in her spare time, and was working on a degree in physical therapy. She had friends, a family that encouraged her, and most notably absent, a boyfriend. 

Was he too old for her? She didn’t seem to mind, enjoying his preludes on life, his offbeat bluntness. 

When she returned, scooting her chair back just an inch to not impede on the couple behind them, she had barely raised the cup to her lips when he blurted out, “Do you want to get dinner?”

A small smile crept up on Petra’s lips. “It’s lunchtime.” 

Levi crossed his arms. “I know. I meant tomorrow. Or next week. Or…shit, I’m doing this all wrong.” He paused, resisting the urge to clear his throat like an idiot, and gathered his words. “I like you.” Not much better, but he got his point across. 

Petra’s eyes glimmered. “Levi Ackerman, are you asking me out?”

“I am.” 

She sucked in a breath like she was waiting for this moment, but an air of melancholy clouded her disposition. 

“It doesn’t have to be here,” Levi added quickly. “I know a place in Trost and—“ He cut himself off, realizing how presumptuous he was being, but Petra eased his worry with a brush of her soft hands. 

“It’s not that. I like you too, Levi.” And a beautiful blush peppered her freckles. Her gaze turned serious, her voice just low enough so that only the two of them could hear. “I’m joining the Scouts. I leave for training in a month.” 

If Levi could pick a time for a Titan to swallow him whole, this would be it. 

[ashboy-3]

Would You Love me if I Was a Monster?

Prompt: Monster Fandom: Danny Phantom Characters: Danny, Kwan, Vlad, Harriet Words: 2785 Summary: Vlad has been dating Harriet for some time now and wants to move the relationship up a step but he doesn't think he can go through that alone. Luckily he has his godson to help him along the way.

Harriet Chin has been dating Vlad for a while now. Meanwhile, her son Kwan has been with his boyfriend Danny for a few weeks. It's time to introduce their respective boyfriends to each other, and what better way than a family dinner to meet them both at the same time?

“Kwan!” Harriet yelled from the kitchen, knowing her son was out mowing the lawn in the hot summer heat, the back door open.

“Yeah mom?” Kwan huffed, out of breath.

“I was wondering if you would be nice enough to come to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Is this an invitation or an order?” the tall young adult asked.

“I guess an invitation, but I would very much like for you to join me. I want to introduce you to my boyfriend and please bring that lovely boy you’ve been talking about.” Harriet pled.

“Okay mom. I’ll ask him if he wants to come. Do I get to know the address?” Kwan asked, already knowing that Danny is not going to want to spend a car ride with his mom.

“Of course, sweetie. It’s written down in my bag here. He’s cooking dinner for us at his private cabin,” Harriet confirmed.

‘Because that is reassuring,” Kwan rolled his eyes playfully as his mom wacked his shoulder with a damp rag.

“Oh you! Go and finish the yard or you’re not coming at all!”

“Careful mom you’re making it sound exciting!” Kwan yelled as he ran outside.

“So, I’m finally getting introduced to the parents?” Danny asked later that night on a phone call.

“Correction Parent and parent’s boyfriend.”

“Because that doesn’t spell disaster at all” Kwan could hear the smile in Danny’s voice.

“My mom has been wanting me to meet this guy for weeks now and I can’t avoid it any longer. Before I had the excuse of college but now that college is out, I can’t really give any excuse Mr. I have to go to the bathroom.”

“You spend two years making the same excuse and no one lets you live it down!” Danny huffed.

“Maybe you should’ve made different excuses every now and then. Even just going to the nursers office,” Kwan laughed.

“Okay I’ll admit my excuses were very dumb back then, but everyone was trying to kill me back then to! Where is this place we’re going anyways?” Danny asked.

“Some cabin the guy owns. I promised my mom we would meet her there at six o clock sharp. Just be lucky I got you out of the car ride with her.”

“Alright well I won’t leave my parents’ house so you can just pick me up there,” Danny told him, both agreeing that during the summer they should be with their respective families, at least till they introduced each other.

“I’ll be there at five. It’s about a forty-minute drive, not counting maybe getting lost and traffic,” Kwan told him as they said their goodbyes.

“I already talked to him. He’ll be meeting us at the cabin at six and I finally convinced him to bring his boyfriend,” Harriet said excitedly.

“That’s just wonderful Hari,” the smooth voice of Vlad masters said thru the phone.

“One of these days I would love for you to meet my godchildren. Sadly, I don’t have any of my own to introduce you to.”

“I would love to meet them. The few times you’ve spoken about them you sound so proud.”

“Well, they have come a long way and have been through so much. The least I can do is brag about them.”

“I think that’s how every parent feels,” Harriet spoke softly, the two enjoying the late-night phone call.

It was the next day when Kwan woke up a little late and discovered that his mom had already left to run her errands for the day, which gave him complete freedom to hang out with Danny until it was time for them to leave.

“I still can’t believe that your mom is freely letting us meet some guy who has a private cabin in the woods,” Danny’s sarcastic side came through.

“My mom trusts him. They’ve been dating longer then we have, and I trust her,” Kwan said with an eye roll. Danny did still have some trouble when it came to his obsession and protecting those he loves, but he was getting better and If Kwan trusted the guy, then Danny can trust Kwan.

It was as they drove further in the woods did Danny start to feel a form of Déjà vu. “Hey Kwan, I think I’ve been here before?”

“As phantom or as Danny?” Kwan asked worried.

“As both I think. It wasn’t a place I went to often, but I can recognize it.”

“If you really think it’s trouble when we get there then you go ghost and grab my mom,” Kwan as in serious mode.

“I would never let anything happen to your mom or you,” Danny put a hand over Kwan’s protectively and gave his boyfriend a bright smile.

The rest of the ride was in a comfortable silence as the two pulled up and walked towards the door.

Knock knock knock

“Ah You’re he- DANNY!”

“VLAD!”

“So, you two do know each other,” Kwan said in awe.

“Well, this is a surprise but do come in,” Vlad stepped aside.

“You called our previous Mayor by his first name! My mom is dating our previous mayor,” Kwan asked shocked.

“Yes, how shocking that everything leads back to Daniel,” Vlad rolled his eyes, clearly mocking the younger male.

“Oh, don’t be such a fruit loop. I’m here as support for my boyfriend,” Danny walked past him, patting him on the shoulder.

“Go ahead and greet your mom. I want to talk to Vlad for a second,” Danny pushed Kwan out of the way, giving the two some space.

“Does she know about your ghostly half” Danny didn’t hesitate to ask.

“Not yet. I’ve been thinking of proposing, it has been three years, but I don’t want her to say yes or go through with it without knowing the full truth. What about your new toy?” Vlad made a waving gesture towards the kitchen.

“Kwan isn’t a new toy. We’ve been dating a little after I got to college, around two years and yes, he knows, he doesn’t know everything, that is way to much to cover, but he knows that if he ask me a question I’ll normally answer,” Danny started to walk away but his arm was stopped by Vlad.

“Daniel wait. I know I haven’t always been a good guy, but I’ve changed. My ghost half was not well-liked, and I want to tell Harriet with all my heart. I don’t want her to hate me. She’s a reporter and will know exactly who I am when I tell her. Will you be there with me when I tell her. We can do it tonight. Please Daniel,” Vlad asked, a hint of begging in his voice.

“I’ll be there with you to tell her everything. If it makes you feel better, I haven’t told Kwan about you. He doesn’t know about Dani either, I haven’t found the right time, but I haven’t blowen anyone’s secret, only mine.” Danny promised.

“Well let’s not keep them waiting,” the two walked out into the kitchen to see Harriett taking something out of the oven, Kwan laughing at something she said.

“Hi you two! Kwan let me know that you know each other, but I’ve yet to meet you. You’re the young boy who has stolen my Kwan’s heart,” Harriet teased.

“Harriet dear this is one of my godchildren, Daniel Fenton,” Vlad introduced.

“Wait that’s how you know Vlad Masters!” Kwan was shocked.

“It’s a small world after all,” Danny shrugged.

“Daniel there is no one who doesn’t know who you are. You make it a point everywhere you go,” Vlad rolled his eyes.

“I do not!” Danny reacted with a shriek.

“We both know a few people who think otherwise.”

“They don’t even like you. . .well some of them,” Danny rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of have you done something with Walker?” Vlad asked, easily slipping into zone talk, being easy after being on good terms with Danny for the last few years.

“No work talks Danny,” Kwan rolled his eyes, quickly stopping his boyfriend after he recognized the name Walker.

After that conversation flowed easily between the four, Kwan liked this man for his mom and Danny didn’t mind that Vlad might be in his life more than he is.

“Well, this is nice, but I’m ready to get back home,” Kwan stretched, clearly stomach full.

“Wait Kwan before we go Vlad has something he wants Harriet to know,” Danny sat him back down, his boyfriend clearly confused.

“Sure I guess we can wait,” Kwan sat back down.

“Harriet my dear. I have something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now, but haven’t had the support. I’m. . .I can’t do this,” Vlad stood up, walking out of the room.

“I’ll be right back. It’s nothing bad. . .well not anymore. I promise. Just let me talk to him,” Danny stood up to follow but not before Kwan grabbed his hand.

“Does he have to do with your secondary job?” Kwan asked.

“He’s like me,” Danny answered as Kwan let his hand go.

“I can’t do this Daniel! What if she hates me! I’m a monster!” Vlad was pacing outside.

“You’re as much of a monster as me,” Danny assured him.

“You didn’t try to kill a teenager for a petty thing that happened in college and then steal his family!”

“That wasn’t you. That was your obsession. If I truly thought that you were a threat to earth or the zone, do you really think that I would let you have this much freedom?” Danny asked.

“Why didn’t you crush my core the first moment you got that crown. I don’t deserve this life,” Vlad stopped pacing and decided to just fall on the ground.

“Remember a week after I became King. We already had Walker hold you in a cell and it was your trial. Do you remember anything about it?” Danny asked sitting next to him.

“I remember you feeling sorry for me. Your eyes held so much sadness for me. I thought that you were going to announce to the whole jury that I was guilty and crush my core then and there.”

“But I didn’t,” Danny said matter of fact.

“You didn’t. You still found me guilty, but my punishment was a change of obsession. Something that hasn’t happened since the second king of the ghost zone. Most thought that it was a myth, but you, who’s known for doing the impossible, did the impossible. You changed my core from Maddie to training younger ghost. You freed me from a prison I didn’t know I was in,” Vlad spoke softly, so unlike the man Danny had first met.

“Exactly. That wasn’t you. Our obsession’s make us do crazy and stupid things. Things that we might regret in our human halves, but we have to learn how to deal with them. I find that talking to someone that you love helps,” Danny said, looking towards inside the cabin.

“What if she thinks I’m a monster and hates me afterwards?”

“Then she’s not meant for you. If she doesn’t accept you then I’ll bring you to my parents and they can shower you in 80’s movies and fudge,” Danny smiled as he gave Vlad a few minutes to breath and think until he finally stood up.

“Ready?” Danny asked, standing with him.

“As I’ll ever be,” the two walked back inside towards the dining room.

“Everything okay?” Kwan was quick to ask.

“Everything’s fine. He’s ready,” Danny assured the both of them.

“Harriet my sweet, you might not like me after this, but I have something to confess. I am not fully human,” Vlad admitted as two rings went down his body converting it from human to ghost.

“You’re that ghost that tormented amity a few years ago!” She stood up anger in her eyes, but Danny was quick to interfere.

“He’s good now! I know it doesn’t sound believable, but he wasn’t fully in control of his actions back then.”

“Danny how can you defend him he tried to kill you multiple times?” Kwan asked.

“It’s true he did try to kill me, my family, and so much more that I hope both of you never know, but he’s been punished by our laws and will never do it again. I promise you,” Danny assured his boyfriend.

“Wait our? Are you what he is as well?” Harriet asked as Kwan and Danny looked at each other with a shrug, letting Danny stand fully next to Vlad as the same two rings went up and down Danny’s body. It should his ghost form, black jeans, with a black and grey DP hoodie and finally the ring of rage on his finger and crown of rage on his head.

“We’re called halfas. Half human half ghost formed normally from a lab experiment gone wrong and changing our DNA. As king of not only the ghost zone but infinite realms I can assure you that Vlad has already gone to trial for all the crimes that not only the humans know about but the ones that we know about as well. Back then Vlad has an unhealthy obsession, obsession is what keeps ghost alive and fueling. Sometimes they get filled, it isn’t often but it’s a beautiful sight to see, but sometimes they can be dangerous and make us not in charge of our actions. I with the power that I gained as king found Vlad guilty and changed his obsession to one that can but put to better use,” Danny informed her.

“So, what is this ‘healthy’ obsession,” Harriet asked, still glaring at the two.

“Uh mom it’s actually offensive to ask a ghost what their obsession is. It could go back to how they died,” Kwan informed her as the knowledge downed on her and she turned facing her son.

“Did you know about this!?”

“I knew about Danny. He only told me that there were two others of his kind, but he never would tell me who,” Kwan promised.

“Harriet dear. Do you hate me?” Vlad asked, and when she looked up she saw the sadness in his eyes and her features softened.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a monster,” Vlad apologized.

“Vlad honey you’re not a monster. You were on the wrong track. No, I don’t hate you. Do I wish you would have told me earlier? Of course, but I understand why you didn’t. I understand why you waited for Danny to be here,” she grabbed his hands, kissing them to further assure him.

“You’re not going to tell anybody about this. . .right?” Danny asked her.

“I’m willing to keep my lips sealed as long as the famous Danny Phantom can open up some time to do an interview with me every so often. I promise to not ask about anything personal,” she assured him.

“I can make that work,” Danny smiled as Kwan groaned.

“Mooooommmm stop trying to blackmail my boyfriend!”

“I will blackmail my future son in law as much as I want to. So don’t start that with me mister,” she put the mom finger in his face as Danny and Vlad laughed.

“Wait son in law?” Danny asked, his face full of confusion.

“Yeah, well seeing how mom ruined it. I was going to ask later when we got him, but Danny will you marry me?” Kwan asked as he got out a ring box and knelt on one knee.

“Of course you big lug,” Danny smiled, jumping into Kwan’s arms.

“Think they’re going to last?” Harriet asked, happy to be in Vlad’s arms, no more secrets between them as they watched the two couple be happily in love.

“as long as we keep our mouths shut about how Kwan proposed. They like to record every moment they can of their children and missing Daniel’s proposal will be high on their list. Daniel’s a good kid. He’s not going to jump into the wedding right away. He’s going to hold onto that ring for a year or two before finally announcing a wedding date. Then Kwan has to go through all the ghost council,” Vlad laughed to himself as Harriet looked confused, but he just laughed and kissed her on the check, assuring that he’ll explain later.

“I love you,” Danny whispered to Kwan.

“I love you too,” the past football jock whispered back.

[desertdragon]

24 ( complexion ) for the prompt meme!

DA LIST | TW: Racism

She hoisted the last barrel onto the shelf and dusted off her hands. The day's sweat beaded off her brow and its heat sunk in her muscles.

"Good work as always Ralhana, thank you."

"Thanks, see everyone tomorrow."

The men bid her farewell and waved as they went their separate ways. Above the sky burned a deep orange as the sun sank. Others were on the walk home ahead of her, dotting the roads across the fields. Some waved at her and she waved back throwing them a smile.

At this rate next year's sake would start preserving on time and the rest of harvest would finish early. In a few days a festival would come to life ahead of the first frost on the trees. She gave herself a day or two for sleep and more time with the kids before she'd get pulled into helping.

'Better make my sleep count.'

She covered a yawn and as more people thinned out, her body slunk home. Everything grew heavy till her bones were like stones tied to an empty bag; climbing the hill in her way nearly tripped her as her head started dipping. Just another step, she just needed to walk another step. When she crested the hill she cursed under her breath and swayed. Finally, the house was in sight.

"Daddy! Daddy's here!"

She blinked and Yoshino slammed against her squeezing her legs tight. They almost tipped over, widening her face in panic. She cried out but managed to stay standing.

"Little one you're getting better at tackling me. Too good even."

"Mommy made rice balls and they didn't get burned. You have to come see!"

"What? Did you help her?"

Yoshino let go and stuck her hands behind her back, smirking. She squirmed still believing it could contain whenever she got excited.

"I showed her a bit the way you showed me. Then we made the balls together. Ujihide kept eating the rice though..."

"Well this I have to see." She chuckled.

Yoshino's eyes gleamed, waiting but letting her tail get the better of her. It wiggled down and to the sides then curled up in greeting. She knelt and pulled her into a hug. The rumble of her purr beat deep as a drum in her chest. A year before and she lost the girl under the length of her arms. Now she stood big enough to fill out her reach. She took her hand and started walking.

She stared in disbelief sitting around the hearth. Twelve normal rice balls rested on their wood platter; the rice was shaped rough around the edges but stayed white.

"That's not all dearest. Try the saury." Yugiri said, grinning.

Carefully, carefully, she pried the fish apart with chopsticks. It gave easily, not burnt. Not charred beyond recognition. Instead she saw a nice golden brown. Everyone watched. At least both their sons, minds full of whatever two year olds thought about, couldn't understand what was at stake. Still they studied her with tested patience. Shutting her eyes she stuffed it in her mouth.

It was... good?

Her hunger lurched like a wild thing. She couldn't stop eating. First the fish, the oden, three rice balls. It all went down one after the other. Yoshino pulled her back to reality, stopping her heart cold. She watched the color drain from Yugiri's face.

"We were playing tag and Saburo asked me why don't I have real horns. And Akane asked when I'll grow all my scales in. They liked my ears though! Everybody wanted to pet them. Because they're fluffy. It was ok at first but then it felt weird."

"Yoshino, they didn't play any mean pranks or hit you did they?" Yugiri asked sternly.

Always quick with her hands she piled extra dessert, roast chestnuts, in Yoshino's palms. The girl's eyes lit up seeing her favorite. She didn't have to think about her answer. That was good. She wasn't ashamed enough to lie. She started peeling the shells as she spoke in a tiny voice.

"No. I said I had to go home. I pushed them off and came back."

Yoshino glanced between them back and forth as she ate, pensive. Her concentration broke only to keep Yoshitsugu from taking a chestnut. Whether it was releasing bugs outside or managing how upset she felt, she had been told to try everything possible before ever striking a life. Her hands were the last resort. But to have pushed some kids over this...she couldn't find a reprimand. Anger flooded at a crack in her heart. Clenching her fists she looked at Yugiri and they nodded together. It was pain, shared.

"We're proud of you. When people do something like that you should protect yourself, even if they won't listen. And moving them out kept you safe."

"Your Father's right. They touched you in a way that made you uncomfortable. Words won't work then. But neither did you hurt them more than what was reasonable."

"So...it's ok?"

"Like this, yes." She answered solemnly.

She gave each of them their good night kiss and tucked the edges of their blanket. One lingering look let her study their sleeping faces as they piled together. She could never help a smile. With the door shut behind her she slid against the wall. A sigh stripped the tension from her body.

Saying nothing Yugiri approached and slid beside her. She felt a gentle nudge at her side. They laced their fingers together. She leaned her head back and smiled.

"Dinner really did surprise me."

"That is not any way to give a compliment." Yugiri pulled her cheek as a tease, pretending annoyance.

"You're right ma'am. I'm sorry ma'am."

"Hmph. You certainly ate your share as it was."

Yugiri let her face go, and the amusement in her eyes made Ralhana not miss a beat.

"It was made by the hard work of a beautiful woman. I couldn't help myself."

"A flatterer tonight I see."

They leaned against each other. She felt the flutter of Yugiri's eyelashes, the movement of her breaths, settling into the way she held her arm. They let themselves be.

"I don't want you to have more on your load whenever you work and return. Even if you have to put up with my beginner mistakes."

"I know. It's alright."

"You were always the better cook; I feel no shame admitting as much."

She chuckled.

"I'm no Gan either but thanks."

They fell into silence. Not even the bugs sang outside. The world stilled creeping its weight over her being. And that threatened releasing her thoughts. She moved to kiss Yugiri, stopped before she could start. The look in her eyes made her muscles lock.

"You were alone while I recovered after the boys were born. Forgive me, for making you bear that madness."

"That was never your fault. Ever."

"No. Perhaps it wasn't. But now I must ask you to shoulder it again. This place will hurt our children."

Her tongue turned lead in her mouth. She knew. She knew in the way only an 'other' could understand. And she read the seeds of the 'other' growing on Yoshino, until her hands burned to rip them out before their daughter took it upon herself. The urge sparked after the joy of her birth began settling back to normal.

'Her brown skin doesn't match yours. Are you sure your wife didn't cheat you, man?' people had asked, whether she bartered, tended fields, or helped them raise a house.

The pride at a mark of her own father living through his grandchildren crumbled like kindling. Then even now, there lingered smoldering rage. But for Yugiri to quit Doma, she no longer cared about her heart as a place. She didn't need a place to form her shape.

Yoshino was four, and a place asked she be warped to define it.

A knit brow brought out the hard angles of her face. There was a land that demanded none of those things.

"What do think about Thavnair?"

[kamyru]

Hi! Could I request from the intimate moments prompt list 16.+ Kuranosuke? Also I really love your stories!❤️

Hi! Thank you for your ask. I love Kuranosuke so much. Thank you so much for reading my works. I hope I won't disappoint you. Enjoy! ❤️

P.S. You can find the "Intimate moments" prompts list here. Don't hesitate to send me more requests using them.

Resting their hand on the other's thigh, slowly stroking it (Kuranosuke Kiba x MC) (Scenario)

Summary: The Blizzard was known for his harsh and demanding nature. However, even he could be soft and caring when his wife needed him the most.

Word counting: 1049

An exhausted MC, who barely made it to the last train, collapsed on the sofa with her shoes still on. She knew better than to stay like this for a lot of time. Nonetheless, she didn't have enough energy to move. Intending to do at least something more or less productive, she took out her phone to check her messages. Her husband didn't appreciate her gesture, even if he could see that MC's feet didn't touch anything around them. However, when Kuranosuke saw MC's grip on her phone loosening and the device falling on the floor, he knew better than to start a useless argument. In an instant, MC was back on her feet and clumsily tried to get back her phone.

"Pick up the phone, please. I beg you, pick up the phone."

Kuranosuke went around the sofa and stopped in front of MC's back. He put his hands on her shoulders, gently massaging them. Finally, the person on the other end answered MC's call.

"What had happened? Is dad alright? I'm coming home with the first train!"

The husband gulped, trying to understand the matter. After a few minutes, MC finally calmed down, being convinced not to go back home by her mother. Yet, she still didn't have enough energy to explain everything to her husband. Kuranosuke moved in front of her and touched her cheeks when he saw tears running down. He had no idea how long it lasted, but the weak grip on his shirt woke him up.

"Dad is in the hospital, and mom said he will have an operation tomorrow," MC finally announced and pressed her face against Kuranosuke's chest. The man hugged her tightly and stroked her back, pressing his lips on her temple. There were a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue, but he was afraid to voice any of them. "Mom said it is nothing serious and I can visit him on the weekend if I want. But I am afraid, Kuranosuke."

"Do you want to go there right now?" Kiba asked in the softest voice he was physically capable of.

"No. Mom said she won't let me in before the weekend because I have better things to do than stay in the hospital. I won't be of any use anyways."

The man nodded and cupped MC's face in his warm hands.

"Then let's go together tomorrow after work. It's Friday."

MC closed her eyes, letting the last tears slip down her cheeks. She murmured in affirmation and melted at Kuranosuke's kiss on her forehead.

However, it was easier to say than to do it. The entire working day, MC was fidgety, looking at her phone every five minutes. Taking half of the paperwork from his wife's desk, Kuranosuke convinced himself once more that it was impossible for him not to mix the personal and the professional. His heart clenched at the simple thought of yelling at MC. So, the entire office witnessed a side of The Blizzard reserved only for his home life.

With every hour passing, MC got more and more worried. She knew she had to get herself together, but it was impossible. The worst possible outcomes invaded her thoughts, putting tears in her eyes. A cup of green tea pressed against her cheek and made her wince. Before MC could say a single word, Kiba leaned to her ear and whispered: "Wait till the next meeting finishes, and we'll go."

MC lifted her eyes and met the softest expression she had ever seen on The Blizzard. She was sure that even Haru was a stranger to this. A wave of warmth and strength washed her. She knew that she could rely on Kiba.

Nonetheless, Kuranosuke's words couldn't influence MC's state when in the middle of the meeting, she felt her phone vibrating. She felt the urge to check it, at least to know if it was from her mom. However, Kuranosuke was well aware they weren't in the right place for this. It didn't matter what was in the message and from whom. There was no way it would calm MC down. So, the man took a deep breath, and without even looking around him, he placed a reassuring hand on MC's thigh, slowly stroking it. A gentle smile appeared on Kunihiro's face, who saw everything. However, none of the spouses cared enough to notice this. MC stopped jumping her leg, and the unshed tears in her eyes finally dried up.

The moment the meeting finished, the Kiba family made their way out of the building and towards the train station. MC didn't remember the road at all, her thoughts being too occupied by her dad's surgery. By the time they arrived at the hospital, everything had already been settled.

A barely visible smile appeared on MC's mom's face. Meanwhile, her daughter knelt in front of her father's bed. The man took her hand in his and kissed her fingers.

"You are an even bigger worrywart than your mother, kid."

Finally, MC broke into tears, not able to let out a single word. Kuranosuke let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He flinched when he felt his mother-in-law's hand patting him on the back.

"Thank you for taking care of her."

A blush appeared on the man's face. He was happy that his father-in-law was alright and that MC got to see him. Now, the wave of tiredness hit him. However, it didn't stop him from thinking about his wife's well-being. If he was like this, MC was probably on the way to fainting. His mother-in-law's proposal to spend the night at them helped him relax. Otherwise, it would be hard to go back home in that state.

While in the taxi, MC let her upper body fall on Kuranosuke's lap. Meanwhile, he let his hand rest reassuringly on her shoulder. It helped MC get much-needed minutes of sleep. Kiba didn't even mind taking her bridal style out of the car and putting her directly in her childhood bed. He knew that he would do everything for her, no matter what, and she was just the same. The warmth spread from his heart to his entire body and helped him fall asleep while holding MC as close to him as possible.

[galladrabbles]

Weekly Wrap U-Up

It's Sunday - the perfect time to watch a movie you were looking forward to or to quickly write a drabble if you haven't done it yet for this week's prompt.

Thank you, @mmmichyyy, for setting it this week.

Thank you to everyone who wrote a drabble - the awards for best writing in exactly 100 words go to you!!

Thank you to all the supporters and rebloggers - you definitely get the wards for best fandom people!

And next we'll be calling @squirrel-fund up onto the stage to submit her prompt to us via ask. Thanks, Auds!

And last but not least: Welcome to the new writers! The Best New Words and Faces awards go out to you! We're happy to have you!

Enjoy the rest of your weekends! Till tomorrow, Vey

[jokingmisfit]

Comforting Your Sorrows

Damien Darhk x reader

Prompt- “Will we still be here tomorrow?”

Warnings- Self-doubt, Use of daddy, Allusions to sex, Non-gendered but reader is called kitten, Codependency, Self-deprecation, Separation anxiety, A bit of amnesia

Dark purple silk sheets and heavy soft blankets were always a comforting feeling. Laying in Damien’s bed, pretending like this was where we should be. However, right now, I’m terrified. I know they changed things, him and his team, I just don’t know how much. I’m waiting for his words to shoo me away or for him to leave with the knowledge that we won’t see each other till our next “session”.

You’d never realize he was a murderer. Not at least until his words or gaze landed on you. His hands are always soft. Only a few seconds and I miss them on my sides, on my face. I miss him close to me.I can’t bear to see him leave… I won’t have a choice. We’ll have to part. Just like always.

Golden light flickers around the room, but despite the romantic, perfect, atmosphere I just want the comfort of him and nothing else. My silly dreams don’t add up with reality, but it matches the scene almost perfectly.

I turn a bit to search for him. It was a sight hard to miss. White light reabsorbing the yellow. Short white hair on top of a body on display covered by only a pair of pants. A pair of brilliant blue eyes look through the mirror as he turns towards me. He really looks like a painting

I lay my head on the pillow rather than my hand and send a sweet tired smile to him. I can only hope my sadness doesn’t leak through.

Of course, I can tell it does when his own smirk turns upside down.

“What’s wrong kitten?”

Damien sits down cupping my face. I lean in. I don’t want to tell him. It’s so pathetic. I just want it to be perfect…

“Come on now, tell daddy what’s wrong. Hmm?” He maneuvered us around so I now sit in his lap. I love being held by him… I lean into him and take a deep breath.

“Will we still be here tomorrow?”

It came out louder than I wanted. It was just a whisper, but I wish I’d said nothing at all. I couldn’t help but tense at myself. I looked up to his eyes and he looked so confused and sad.

“I just mean… You- I- We. We- We always- always split a bit after um uh everything,” I feel so stupid. “I don’t wanna be selfish y’know and I just think maybe we could not well maybe if you want because you know your thoughts and feelings like really matter to me I just don’t I- I really don’t wanna I just- I don’t wanna keep- I just want to stay with you.”

God, why was that so hard? Am I shaking? Oh god! He’s just looking at me.I try to wiggle out of his lap.

“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said anything really it’s just stupid right?! I mean why would we why would-” Before I could finish Damien pulls me back into him and starts petting my hair.

“I think we have had very poor communication recently.” Damien takes my head and turns me to face him. “I should have relayed all the new rules that we’ve made, and you,” He accentuates by tapping my nose. “Should have told me you wanted to stay longer… What have I told you about talking baby? Hmm? It’s that you have to tell me what you’re thinking. Though it would be a very useful skill, I can't read your thoughts, kitten.”

I played with his and my hands, keeping my eyes on them the whole time. I just want us to be happy. Together. “I just- I just wanna be with daddy…” It felt silly to admit. I just want him.

He lays back pulling me with him. “You have me baby. We don’t have to be apart anymore.”

We what?

“What about all of the- stuff?” What even was in the way of us staying together anyways?

“It’s all been dealt with. Daddy took care of all of it.” Damien says while running his hands through my hair.

I closed my eyes. “So I can stay.” I look up at him and he smiles.

“My sweet little kitten, you can stay with daddy for as long as you want.”