#All things done in the dark shall come to light

[dancingundermoonlight101]

The times I've thought about you have been plenty. It's a never-ending cycle, for you see, I am falure of a Prime.

Megatron, as you stand before me, blade stabbing through my spark, through the pain and sorrow, I can't help but feel relief. Relief that between the two of us, you are the one to remain alive. With the war over, you having won, I would like to make one final request of you old friend.

Don't kill my comrades.

No matter how much you hate them, what threat they may pose, I beg of you. Leave them alive. It pains me to say, but without me, they won't interfere much with your plans anymore. I can only hope you remember your roots. The kindness and hope for something better your spark held when I was but your archivist, and you, my warrior. It might be selfish to think this in my final moments. But I've always loved you, Megatron.

Perhaps in death, will these feelings finally meet their end.

I love you. I loved you. I never stopped loving you, even in my final moments. I hope to Primus we meet in our next lives and I hope again that it's a much kinder life. One without war or inequality or corruption. One where I can hold your servo in mine without shame. One where you are not Lord Megatron and I Optimus Prime. Leaders of the Decepticons and Autobots respectfully.

Until we meet again in the well of all sparks...

------

Megatron glared at the body of the deceased Prime. A dark pit in his spark. A black hole threatening to swallow all its light. He had thought it a good idea to have Shockwave and Soundwave make a machine that would make the last moments and thoughts of anybot visible and audible. He thought maybe he'd see the Prime's thoughts pleading him to not kill his comrades, as well as fear. Something to explain why Optimus in his final moments commed him ".: Spare them:."

Megatron didn't spare them, of course. He was frankly going to enjoy killing them one by one. But they had all escaped.

How bothersome.

He'd find them someday. He's sure of it. And just to spit in Optimus's last wish, he will torture them, too.

The Prime's face in his last moments echoed in his mind. He growled at the useless longing in his spark, squeezing a random object and breaking it.

He still couldn't believe it. Optimus Prime in love with his arch nemesis. How foolish. How stupid. Ridiculous!

Megatron clawed at the chesplates just over his spark. He could not cry, for his tears had run dry long ago. Foolish indeed. This is not what he thought he wanted. Ruling over Cybertron, having cyberformed earth into a second world for his species.. He had thought he wanted it. Now that he had it, Megatron found it empty. His ambitions were gone, no longer did he have a true equal in this whole galaxy.

None would ever be Optimus Prime.

No, he had to set things right. A world without Optimus is not a world Megatron can live with. Where's the fun in getting everything he wants without a little bit of a constant challenge?

.

. .

. . . .

Megatron, a true Decepticon, able to deceive even himself. Primus mused at this. Silly child, went on to kill his other half. This just won't do.

Their short story won't end like this. Primus will not allow it. He Who is Forever Tainted by Unicron, you will live life anew. You shall only know when the time is right, and your debt to Primus has been paid off of what they have done. Do not make the same choices that lead you to make your biggest regret. Make no mistake, this wish is not for you, but for he who is favored by me.

Make the child of Primus, he who was once Orion Pax and later one of Primus's true Primes enjoy a life worth living.

This is your one and only chance. Make it count.

. . . .

. .

.

M—

—atr–n

Meg-tron

"MEGATRON!"

Megatron woke up with a jolt. He tried to online his battle protocols, and they hummed loudly, ready to come out. But something stopped him. A servo, two, actually. Each cupped his cheeks and wiped away his tears. He turned to look at the bot whose servos they belonged to and found none other than Optimus Prime. "You're alive?"

Optimus looked bewildered for a moment, he could feel it through their bond. Bond? He felt affection, worry, and love from the Prime.

"I am very much alive, Megatron." Optimus leaned in to press their forehelms together. Megatron's servos easily reached to hold the Prime's waist as if they'd done so thousands of times. Maybe even more than that. "You must have had a nightmate."

"A nightmare.." It seemed so vivid. A world without Optimus, one where he had..

Megatron doesn't even want to think about it. His spark was still beating wildly in its chamber, and he recognized he still felt fear. A few well placed kisses from his bondmate further eased his worries and sorrow that still felt fresh in his processor and spark. Right. He and Optimus were Conjuxed now. Megatron greedily leaned into the kiss, but one small playful bap from his beloved made him huff and smile. Softening the kiss that would have become more desperate had it continued.

Megatron held Optimus for a long moment. His helm burrowed on the Prime's neck, the action mirrored by his other half. Small comforting kisses are being pressed on Megatron's neck along with quiet words of love. Primus, Optimus was a soft fool. But he was Megatron's soft fool.

They had layed back down at one point, still as close to one another as they could be. And they remained like that. Optimus having fallen asleep again at one point.

Megatron knew Optimus was a blessing, he just hadn't realized how much of one he was until he had that dream. No. The fragmented memories of his past life. Megatron had never seen them before, and even now they were hazy. But the feelings had persisted and carried over. He realized this now. It was thanks to them he reacted rather irrationally at many points in this life, but his longing for Optimus to be by his side remained the same. It had just taken a much, much more romantic turn than his other self would have thought.

Megatron had no regrets though. None at all. As he pressed a soft kiss on Optimus's audial, he smiled soft. "I love you." He wispered. He had said it so many times already, yet somehow this felt like the first.

[purplekilop]

All things done in the dark shall come to light

Rapture and Second Coming of Christ Scripture Versesġ Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me.Ģ In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. Scripture Verses for Meditation About the Rapture and the Second Coming of the Lord Jesus ChristĮphesians 3:8-11 King James Version (KJV)Ĩ Unto me, who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace given, that I should preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ ĩ And to make all men see what is the fellowship of the mystery, which from the beginning of the world hath been hid in God, who created all things by Jesus Christ:ġ0 To the intent that now unto the principalities and powers in heavenly places might be known by the church the manifold wisdom of God,ġ1 According to the eternal purpose which he purposed in Christ Jesus our Lord:ġ Corinthians 15:50-53 King James Version (KJV) – The Raptureĥ0 Now this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God neither doth corruption inherit incorruption.ĥ1 Behold, I shew you a mystery We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed,ĥ2 In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.ĥ3 For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. A faith relationship with God the Father is based on the various expressions mentioned above. We can always come to our heavenly Father expressing our hurts, disappointments, joys, moods, failures, triumphs, challenges, and deepest needs. Prayer is a necessity in the exchange of one’s heart with God the Father. A relationship with our heavenly Father cannot exist with communication without prayer. Sincere prayer from the heart should bring one to a better understanding of the heart of God the Father. True prayer is confidence, faith and trust in God … that is fasting, praying and rejoicing instead of complaining. (See “Moments of Meditation” on our website at posted July 2018 for a review.) Will He find us watching and praying upon His return in the air. In the article titled “The Rapture is at the Door!! Are You Ready?” gives a resounding alarm to watch and pray for the Lord’s return in the air for His bride “The Church” is near. The Lord Jesus Christ will return for the body of Christ “The Church” and this rest upon the sovereign Word of God. There is no doubt regarding the faithfulness of the Son of Man. The question is not answered by the Lord for He leaves it as an open question. For He says, “However, when the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?” (Luke 8:18). The Lord Jesus Christ is coming again for His bride the Church without spots or wrinkles. The Lord our God who is eternally will eliminate time and space and those in Christ will have an eternal relationship with the Lord our God forever. The born-again believers who now live in time and space will live eternally. Those born of the water and of the Spirit will live eternally with the Lord our God in His kingdom (Daniel 7:18 27 Revelation 22:5). On the other hand, those not born of the water and of the Spirit will face an eternity in punishment. The Bible says that God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit is one God that exist eternally (Exodus 3:14 Psalm 90:2 Revelation 4 15:7 Isaiah 9:6 John 1:103, 18 Hebrews 13:8). Isaiah 37:26 and Titus 1:3 says the Lord promised that what He said generations ago would be fulfilled. Only the Lord knows the exact times and seasons for His fulfillment (Acts 1:7 1 Thessalonians 5:1). The Lord controls the ultimate fulfillment of time and has sovereign control to bring His promises to pass. The Lord our God is in control of the end times and the future. CORPORATE AND MAJOR DONOR SPONSORSHIP OPPORTUNITIES.CARING ABOUT THOSE WHO SERVED CFC #85065.“Caring About Those Who Served” Estate Planning Essentials.2022 Combined Federal Campaign Fundraiser Underway “Show Some Love: Be the Face of Change”.NAAV New Mail a Veteran a Dollar 2022 Donation Campaign.TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY AND MENTAL HEALTH.FINANCIAL INFORMATION FOR SERVICEMEMBERS & VETERANS AND FAMILY MEMBERS.VETERANS BENEFITS FOR FINANCIAL SECURITY AND RETIREMENT.

[look-at-the-soul]

Grandma knows best

Tommy Shelby x reader (+Grandma)

Summary: Thomas Shelby is a well known gánster, reckless, fearless, stubborn, restless… he might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t an inconsiderate man. Not specially with an elderly woman.

A/N: 🤷🏻‍♀️ grandmas definitely knows what’s best for us 👵🏻♥️✨ nothing but a fluff moment…

See the Grandma series here

Word count: 3,303

Taking off you coat, you tried to rub your hands to warm them up. Announcing you just arrived, barely noticing an unfamiliar voice.

But to your surprise, once you stepped into the kitchen, you found the least person you thought that could ever be there.

The Small Heath devil, Thomas Shelby.

“Oh darling, there you are.” You grandma greeted you with a wide smile. “I was just telling Mr. Shelby about you.”

“Grandma.” You were paralyzed, frozen in spot.

Giving you a subtle double look, he had to force himself to compose, nothing your grandmother had said about you prepared him. Your beauty was beyond words. And over the last hour he had heard nothing but compliments and good things, he had to admit he had been curious about that young lady that seemed to be exceptional.

A long time ago you learned walking alone once is dark is a bad idea, but crossing your eyes with that man was worse.

“We haven’t done anything wrong Mr. Shelby…” you tried to explain as the man stared perplexed, his man spread as if he owed everything in that house.

“Sweetheart Mr. Shelby helped me with the groceries and bread, the basket was heavy and he offered to walk me home.”

Noticing the terror in your eyes, he cleared his throat.

“My job is done here Mrs. Barwick, it was lovely to meet you, thank you for the tea.”

Standing up, he grabbed his peaky cap, the razor blade caught the light and shone in your direction. But your grandmother had a different idea.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You’ve to stay for dinner.”

“Absolutely not.” You rushed to interrupt. Looking down at the tone you just used to answer your grandma you mumbled an apology.

“I really appreciate the offer bu-”

“This is absurd, you can’t leave until you’ve had dinner Mr. Shelby, I must insist, and I need to know the rest of the story of that caravan trip you did.” She replied scolding him just like she did with you, in that motherly tone.

Frowning you looked from her, to the well known gánster. There was no way back now, he was staying for dinner.

“Now, would you like some more tea?” She offered to him, as Thomas opened his mouth to say no, your grandma filled the cup again. It looked ridiculous in his hand.

The most dangerous man in the country drinking tea from a cup decorated with flowers. ¡In your bloody kitchen!

“Milk?” She offered, ignoring the fact that he could kill her anytime. You’ve heard all kinds of stories about him and the tortures he used among his enemies.

“Yes thank you.”

“Sweetheart, would you mind helping me here?” She pointed at the pot next to her knees, it was getting harder for her to bend down these days.

“I’ll get that for you.” He offered and in mere seconds he was crunching down to get it.

“Oh bless you.” Your grandma offered him another smile. “Why are you still standing there?” She called to get your attention.

Shaking your head a little, you were able to move past the initial shock, but still threw the man a side look just to make sure he wasn’t planning to blind your grandmother.

“Shall I cut these?” Mr. Shelby proposed pointing at the potatoes, after your grandmother nodded he produced a knife from his pocket, making you gasp. “Everything alright Miss Y/LN?”

“If you excuse me, I’ll come back in a minute.” She raised her eyebrows at you before she left.

“Listen it’s just the two of us alright? I pay the taxes and give money to church but I won’t pay you for protection.” You should have kept your mouth shut but for some reason, adrenaline made you talkative and you were nervous, afraid for your life, for your grandma.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not here to collect any money.” He raised his hands in defense. “Your grandmother is adorable.”

“What?” You asked perplexed, thinking of a possible way to get out of the house safely.

“You heard me, I’m not here to do any harm to you or her.” He clicked his tongue. “She said you’re a smart woman, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Then why are you here?” Confusion was written all over you.

“She offered me tea and cookies… oh! And dinner.”

“You can’t stay!”

“Y/N! Where are your manners? That’s no way to treat such a gentleman.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at her words. Thomas Shelby a gentleman. He narrowed his eyes, and gave you an offended look.

“Set the table, I’ll finish this.” She ordered.

Doing as she asked, you went to collect the plates.

“Not that ones! The fancy set!” She instructed pointing the spoon at you.

Tommy chuckled at your surprised expression, but quickly looked down to continue his task chopping the vegetables.

But he’s a criminal! He’s a gangster! You wanted to say. Yet, she wanted to use the delicate china reserved only for important occasions.

Placing the plates, you took then the silverware from the drawer. Seconds later you heard them laughing over something he had said, your grandmother’s voice praising him for his sense of humor. She had no idea who he was! Or what he had done.

“And what did he say afterwards?” He asked your grandma, you found him leaning against the sink, his body turned to face her.

“He said, I swore I saw you first, it had to be me the one who would make the first move.” Your grandmother stated proudly.

Here she was, seventy something years old telling the number one Birmingham’s criminal her love story with your grandfather.

“I told him, of course honey, you chose me. He always thought it was him, but it was me the one who chose him.”

“How long were you married?” He asked with interest.

“Over fifty years, most of my life. Can you believe that?”

“That’s lovely.” He admitted. The words sounded so wrong in his mouth, he should be cursing or shouting.

“Dinner is ready.” Your grandma announced. “Y/N help our guest.”

You wanted to roll your eyes.

“Food smells amazing.” He complimented.

“Would you like a piece of bread? Tommy?”

“Grandma!”

“What? He says I can call him that.” She defended.

“Please.” He smiled and you groaned internally. “I’m going to wash my hands.”

As soon as he disappeared, your grandma grabbed your arm. “You need to put a smile on that face my darling, can’t you see? An educated gentleman is visiting us, he smells nice, has a sense of humor, is polite and handsome… have you seen his eyes? It’s like a piece of heaven!”

“So what? He’s a-”

“You need to find yourself a decent man, Y/N.”

“He’s not a decent man.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Grandma, he’s an arrogant, selfish and dangerous-”

“May I have this honor?” He asked interrupting your little disagreement, offering his arm to your grandma, he guided her tenderly towards the table. He probably heard everything you said.

“So, Tommy what is that you do?”

“I’ve a business, we sell car parts in different countries.”He wasn’t lying.

“I’ve never used a car!”

“Then I should take you for a ride.”

You felt about to combust, he was charming your grandmother and she believed him!

Grinding your teeth, you placed the food on his plate.

“I really appreciate this.” He gave you a twisted smile.

Your grandmother’s hand came to rest on his arm. “I’m so glad I came across you this afternoon. It’s been lovely to share this meal with you.”

“I’m flattered you think that.”

“You don’t have a wife waiting at home, do you Tommy?” Your grandma asked bluntly and you almost chocked on your food.

“No, Mrs Barwick. I’m not married.”

“How is that possible?” She shook her head. “You deserve a good woman!” Then, looking at you she said; “what was that tale I told you to find a husband?”

“I don’t know grandma, I’m done with my dinner if you excuse m-”

But the look she threw in your direction, made you reconsider leaving the table. Sometimes she didn’t need to use her words. One look was more than enough.

You took a deep breath uncomfortable, and it only grew as you could feel Mr. Shelby’s eyes on you.

“Your grandma mentioned you sell books.” He asked to ease the tension.

“Yes.”

“Oh but show him! About that collection you got.” Your grandma encouraged.

“What is it about? Eh?”

“She’s a great seller.” She praised.

“Oh.” Mr. Shelby’s eyes sparkled. He was having fun. “Really?”

He was the most irritating person you’ve ever met.

“It’s about the Greek mithology.”

“Fascinating.” He nodded. “Why don’t you stop by my office tomorrow? I’d like the entire collection.”

“That’s wonderful!” Your grandma beamed.

“All set then.” He ran his tongue over his lips and then, tilted his head. “You made me remember about my grandmother.”

“What was a she like?” Your grandmother asked, batting her lashes.

He had her eating from his palm deliberately.

Studying the man before your eyes, something changed inside you. How could he be so cold-hearted? He seemed like a total different person in that very moment, his guard was down, posture totally relaxed, he even had a smile on his face.

Catching you off guard, you had to look away from him.

“She was a gypsy princess.” His blue eyes filled with nostalgia. “Thanks to her I learned all about values like respect, loyalty. She showed me how to ride a horse and light a fire.”

“It must’ve been hard for her to be on the road.”

“Actually no, she loved to be free, said how nature provided us for everything we might need.” He explained all while his deep voice was dragging you into something you couldn’t name. “It’s getting late and I don’t want to keep you up. Thank you once again.”

“Thank you for a lovely evening Tommy, would love to have you again for dinner .”

He gave you another look, not so subtle this time.

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all, right Y/N?” She pressed her elbow against your arm. “Walk him to the door my dear.”

Offering his hand to her, she whispered into his ear; “She doesn’t trust easily, you’ll need to work harder.”

Tommy tried to disguise his chuckle, after winking at your grandmother he thanked you too.

“I really enjoyed it, hope to see you around?” He arranged the peaky cap on his head and placed his hand on your arm.

“Goodnight Mr. Shelby.” Was all you could think of saying, still confused by everything that happened.

“Goodnight Mr. Shelby?” Your grandmother mimicked your voice. “You’ll need to do better next time, fix your hair, wear your new shoes… a little something! Y/N I placed him in a silver tray for you and you only said two words to him. Sweetheart you need to do something to catch his attention.”

Opening your mouth to protest, but she continued rambling. “But be discreet, you must stand out from the other women, don’t throw yourself at him, leave him wanting more,” her eyes sparkled in excitement. “A hand on his shoulder, hold his gaze… or pretend to brush something from his coat and then look at his lips.”

“Grandma, stop.” You blushed.

“Goodness, I can’t do anything else for you! He was right here!” She took the plates to the kitchen. “A smile might help, you need to ask him about his day, fix his handkerchief…”

“He was only here because you didn’t give him another option.” A sigh escaped your lips.

“My sweet girl, you’ve everything he needs,” she cupped your chin gently. “But you’re too shy! He kept staring at you…”

“I think your imagination is wild.”

“Y/NY/LN,” you stopped midway as she called your full name. Oh oh. “I like him to be my grandson-in-law… so you gotta do something soon.”

And knowing her the way you did, you realized there was no way back now. Once an idea got into her head, she wouldn’t let that slip away.

“I’ve been praying for this moment for so long!” You heard her say from across the room and then she mumbled something about that blue dress that suited you so well.

As you were about to clean the kitchen you heard a knock on the door. Opening, you were surprised to find the most terrifying man on your doorstep once more.

Your heart rate went up immediately, he was standing with his hands crossed in front of his body, head hanging low, you could only see his lips under the peaky cap.

“I’ll be waiting for you Miss Y/LN, tomorrow ten o’clock, I’ll make sure to send someone to help you with the books.”

“That won’t be necessary, I can carry them by myself.” You insisted, still unsure about his intention.

“Fairly well, as you wish.”

As he turned around to leave, something made you stop him.

“I want to thank you for helping my grandmother.” Never, in a million years you imagined you’d be grateful for something he did.

Lifting his jaw to stare at you with those piercing blue eyes that could set anyone into stone, he gave you a smile.

“I just did the right thing.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve nothing to be afraid of by the way, don’t believe everything you hear.”

“I just learned that, you can be considerate and charming sometimes.”

“Then consider yourself lucky,” he winked at you, “that doesn’t happen too often.”

Looking past your shoulder, Tommy noticed your grandmother’s head poking, moving her hands excitedly towards you.

****

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @heidimoreton @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @lau219 @red-riding-wood

[totallyhextra]

People? In MY computer?? It's more likely than you think!

The following is a fanvertisment and is not connected to the show. ****Yet.*** *Also yes, this is the fourth time I'm posting this because TUMBLR WONT LET ME EDIT SPELLING MISTAKES!

ANYWAY,

Once upon a time, back in 1987, Dire Straits put out this music video for “Money for Nothing”, which, as you know, was a song about wanting my MTV. 

The video was made by two guys (Gavin Blair and Ian Pearson) on a very moody computer. After the video went out, these two guys went to a pub:

Ian: “Hey, we should make a whole show like this!”

Gavin: “Dude, making three minutes almost killed us.”

And so it was decided!🎉

The two guys were joined by two other guys (Phil Mitchell and John Grace) and created the Hub, which then became Mainframe Entertainment. They got even more people, and then they all holed up in this hotel.

They were mad lads with a dream: a whole cgi animated show, and they made it happen a whole year before Toy Story!

Behold! ReBoot!

(Yes that fever dream was real)

Now before I get any of this:

Let me lay this down. If you can’t with the animation of the first season because it was CUTTING EDGE IN 1994, you can close your eyes and listen to it. ReBoot wasn’t just a CGI gimmick. The characters are fully developed, the voice actors are peerless, the plot is sharp, and there’s so many easter eggs that you’ll never find them all.

Never

(And yes the episode "Bad Bob" was the actual catalyst for Fury Road. Look it up)

ReBoot is about what life is like in a computer (in the 90s, because it was the 90s) called Mainframe (because of course it is). People are sprites, the guys that look like 1s and 0s are binomes (which represent 1s and 0s). Bad guys are viruses, and the good guy is a Guardian named Bob, who is a certified cinnamon roll.

In the first season the eps are light and self-contained, mainly because there was constant friction between the Mainframe studios and the Board of Standards and Practices.

They still got away with some pretty dark stuff, like Megabyte (virus) making Enzo (the kid) watch his dog get sliced open (dog got away, obviously) , Dot (sprite) have a hallucinatory breakdown, and the fridge horror of realizing the thousands of worm things (nulls) that plunged off a bridge to their death were actually people.

And Hex's (virus

best girl) scary face single-handedly traumatized an entire generation. 🙂

But busting through a window was a no go, because WhAt If tHe cHiLdReN dID iT tOo?

Anyway, halfway through the second season, ABC cut them loose, so they were like, fuck it, we’re going to start going hard. The story shifted from episodic to arcs and things start to get serious.

Third season the show moved to YTV in Canada, which gave no fucks about shielding the innocent children.

So it got DARK

How dark?

The UK refused to show the entire season, so the audience there had to wait until pirated copies made it across the pond to see how it ended.

Also by 1997, the animation was gorgeous. (Best example of third season animation I could think of that didn't have spoilers)

The show was green-lit for a fourth season on Cartoon Network, but halfway through production Warner Bros took over and the same fucking thing happened.

Because Mainframe was halfway done, they decided not to scrap all of it, but knowing they wouldn't be able to finish it correctly, Mainframe stripped anything that would hint at Season Four's true ending, then left what remained on a cliff-hanger of angst.

FOR 22 YEARS

(It's also why the last four eps of season four seem to make no sense)

And so it was.

Other crap happened, the soul left Mainframe, and its animated corpse spat out “The Guardian Code” in 2018. 

But never say die! The year is (almost) 2024, 30 years later. ReBoot shall rise from the dead, because here come the documentary!!

Do you dare see what you’ve been missing?

What the (UK) government doesn’t want you to know?? 

Then come on down to ReBoot!

We got:

Magnificent bastards with sexy voices!

(Tony Jay at his best)

Kickass women who could probably crush your head with their thighs and you’d enjoy it!

Innuendos in a kid's show!

💗 This adorable cinnamon roll!! 💗

Insane third season glow-ups!

YOUR NEW GOD

These guys!

(Gay roller-skating binome is my boi. I named him Jerry)

Nonstop cultural refs (You'll never find them all. Never.)

(There are literally videos dedicated to trying)

So many computer puns!

Body Horror!

Existential Crisis!

HAVE I MENTIONED YOUR NEW GOD?

This is it, folks! The real thing, the gem hidden in the moose-filled forests of Canadia!🌲🌲🌲

Take a trip inside a mid-90’s computer!

See the World Wide Web! (omg):

Witness the original purple Gamecubes that randomly fall from the sky when the owner of the computer (OUR GOOD LORD THE USER) wants to play a game. If it lands on people and they lose, they dissolve into mindless energy leeches, fated to tormented by their former bretheren for all of eternity.

Just like in real life! 🙃

So watch the eps! They on YouTube!

I think they're on Pluto, Hulu, Sling, and Tubi too! Also DVDs for people who have the patience to wait for them!

WATCH! BELIEVE! SUFFER THE SOUL-CRUSHING RAGE OF THE SEASON 4 CLIFF-HANGER!* (come on, its fun!)*

HYPE THE DOC!

The more people hype, the better the chances of actually getting it finished.

NOW SHARE THIS WITH EVERYONE!

And now I will leave you with this screenshot from the ep "Painted Windows", where dicks can clearly be seen drawn upon the wall behind the fleeing anthropomorphized television.

(PS: If you heard the clown pic at the top of the page in your head, you're welcome)

IMPORTANT UPDATE

This message is now approved by Gavin Blair! He's an awesome guy. Show him some love on TWITTER (fuck you musk) at @TheRealMrSweary Also, if you want to share this with non-tumblr friends, here is my attempt at a webpage version:

theseventhstarprojects.com/REBOOT.html

[vibingandsimping]

This is exactly who you think it is. 🦜🦜

Might I request the origin characters (+ Halsin) of your choice caring for a burnt out/sick Tav?

Hello! I shall call you bird anon…

(Leave me and my family alone)

But ask and you shall receive! Requests/thoughts always make my day.

Origin characters + extra companions taking care of an exhausted reader pt. 1

No forewarnings besides maybe some suggestive mentions and a little angst. Mostly all fluff + comfort… barely proofread

Characters included in this part: Astarion, Gale, Lae’zel and Jaheira

Astarion

Astarion, when you present him with the problem after his insistent pestering, is a little lost. Everyone has their breaking points and their limits. You just held a confident front for so long that he started to believe you truly lacked one. He suggests the pleasures of the flesh at first. “To ease that pretty mind,” he claims with a smirk. You can tell in his gaze it’s his default- he was used for his body for so long it’s clear he’s unsure of what else to say. A bit of frustration with both him and his past bubbles up. It hurts to know he values himself that little and at the same time… it’s frustrating that he thinks it will solve anything. After a curt “No thank you.” he seems to deflate a bit. You stalk off to your tent as he watches from afar.

He sat with himself as he contemplated his abilities. You’d done so much for him over the period of time you’d known each other. Quite frankly, he hates to say it but he’s realized he’s taken you for advantage. He reminisces over the times you’d let him feed and he has had his nose pressed into your skin. How he’d inhale your scent and memorize it with your blood. He broods over it for a little before beginning to test different scents and oils. What he believed would work with your body chemistry and what he knew you liked.

It’s an hour or so later when you hear slow footsteps. Whoever it was made their presence known, so as to not scare you with a sudden intrusion. You’d been laying with your head in silence and the dark due to how it throbbed. Everything seemed so loud and overwhelming. He speaks smoothly and announces his arrival, you just grunt in acknowledgment. It seems to amuse him as he laughs gently and places something on the ground. Which? You’re unsure- and you could care less to check right now. It’s only when you hear the flick of a match and the room illuminates that you peek. He has a couple of wax candles laid out that seem to be dripping in mixtures. He smiles at you in such a way that you push suspicions aside. The room flickers with the light of the candles. “Relax. I made these special for you. Just focus on them and let the world wash away.” You watch him for a minute more as he lights the candles and the scent grows stronger as it burns with the wax. At first, it also overwhelmed you. You decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and focus on taking deep breaths. With each inhale, you draw more of it into your lungs and feel your muscles slack. Whatever he used was working wonders to calm your body and ease your mind. He did miss his calling as a perfumer.

The feeling of cold hands on your neck tenses your so delicately relaxed frame. His voice comes out in a shush, making you shiver from the tone. The way his fingers move so slowly tells you he’s holding a part of him back. It’s likely the reflex to make things more… intimate. A part of you swells knowing that he is trying a more simple intimacy on you. Thumbs dig into the tense muscles until they’re worked from the stiffness. Soft moans of content escape your throat. Though, just the same are the groans of pain when he reaches a more tender spot. “You’re lucky you have such a caring companion.” He muses half-heartedly, an attempt to make you smile. It did, matter of fact. You’re sure he knows because his movements become more confident. You drop your head back into your pillow and breathe out a sigh. He didn’t say anything but you could feel his eyes on your back. It was quite comforting to know he was there if you needed it. You eventually drift into a half-conscious state as he works your tender flesh. By the time he’s left you to rest you were already asleep.

Gale

Gale’s watchful eye concluded your growing burnout long before it settled in. He was a wizard- a man who studied for a living. He understood frustration and burnout. He’s faced it many times before… and it’s never an easy thing. When you settle down at the camp for the night, he can’t seem to get his eye off you. You walk around slowly and seem out of it. The man sits in his thoughts for a moment longer and decides to make his way over to you. You, of all people, deserved to have a moment to relax and truly replenish your mind. His hand makes contact with your arm and you’re snapped from your daze. He gazes down at you with a softness and silently asks you to follow him. You’re too worn down to argue and just nod.

He winds you out of the forest and towards a still lake. A drinking deer turns and shoots out from its spot when you two arrive. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he bashfully smiles. “Water is soothing to the mind and muscle. I’ll take care of you- let me.” The moonlight dappling the water is tempting and he seems harmless enough with his request. You relent and begin to slowly peel the clothing off your body. Turning back around you stride into the water only to find it pleasantly warm. It was almost hot- glancing up at him as he removed his robe, you knew he tampered with magic to heat the water. You’re not complaining though. It’s already doing wonders to work out the aches in your muscles. He slides in behind you and asks you permission to touch you. You hummed approval as you closed your eyes and put your trust in him.

He lathers his hands with soap and begins to work your muscles along your back. Simultaneously massaging gently and washing you clean. His fingers work from your neck to your shoulder blades, down your spine, and to your legs. He slowly turns you around so he can repeat the same process down your front. He’s careful around your more intimate areas, eyeing you cautiously to gauge what’s too much. It feels nice to be doted on and not have to bathe yourself for once. You’re sure he knows it, too. Then, he whispers for permission to do your hair. You barely speak and instead hum once more. He chuckles a little before wrapping an arm around you and one under your head. He dips you into the water until your hair is thoroughly soaked and pulls you back up. Like that, he begins to lather shampoo into your scalp. His fingers work wonders and you moan a little. The moment is gone too soon for your preference and he’s washing it out.

After a minute more of holding you in the water as he rinses you off, he guides you out. You almost protest like a child, wishing to relish the hot water a little longer. He hands you a large linen cloth and you dry yourself off. Squeezing your hair until it no longer drips annoyingly and wrapping it around yourself to conceal your intimates. He follows alongside you back into camp and you head into your tent. He lingers beside you while you settle down and gather some night clothes. Then, as soon as the eyes are noticed, he leaves you to your own devices. You manage to get to sleep surprisingly easily and the night passes mostly peacefully. In the morning, your previous clothes are folded neatly outside your tent. They’re clean and practically spotless. Gale must’ve taken the time to wash them while you slept and hung them to dry overnight.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel’s instinct is to scold you for showing weakness. Githyanki are warriors and have no time to tend to the frail. Yet, you’ve proven anything but frail in the time she’s known you. She’s utterly torn and wears it on her face obviously. You’re unsure why you turned to her for comfort, it was obviously a mistake. You sigh exasperatedly and trail off as she watches. You almost make it to your tent before her hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you to look at her. “Battle me,” she speaks blatantly. “Githyanki soothe their mind and body with battle. It is all I know to do. Battle me.” There’s a desperation in her voice. She cannot stand to see you so exhausted and fed up. You squint at her and almost protest that all the battling you’ve done is what led you to this point. The expression she held deterred you. You complied in the end.

She leads you into a dirt clearing and unsheathes her sword. Her face is like the steel she holds in her grasp and you ready yourself. There’s a moment of silence and anticipation that hangs in the air as you two lock eyes. She makes the first move, launching towards you and missing the side of your face by a few inches. You retaliate and dig your weapon of choice into her side. She grits her teeth as she is sent sprawling a few feet away. The girl gives you little time to react. Her next attack flies at you and you two are a clash of steel and flesh. There’s an adrenaline that elicits your veins and your head clears. The worries of taking care of everyone fade and you focus solely on your sparring partner. It’s like a second wind that envelops your body. It takes you a few hits until you realize she’s purposefully leaving herself open and using weaker moves.

She was allowing you to win. To taste her blood and victory in battle. You’re almost insulted if it weren’t so flattering that she was laying herself openly for you. You lay a final hit on her and she kneels with her head bowed. The two of you pant as wounds seep blood. Nothing is too deep and can easily be fixed by bandage or magic. She pulls herself to her feet and smiles softly at you. “A formidable opponent. You underestimate your power.” It was her form of a compliment, you supposed. She then followed you back into camp and sat you down. She runs a wet rag along your scrapes and cuts. The crimson washes off and leaves the wounds exposed to the fresh air. The githyanki is gentle in her touch as she wraps them with a bandage and secures it in place. The muscles in your body flex as you test the hold before turning your attention to her. You go to tend her wounds but are met with a hand in your face. “I am fine. I am strong enough to take care of myself. You, on the other hand, need to recover to lead us onward.”

You quirk a brow at her before pulling away and allowing the campfire to warm your bones. She works deftly on sealing her wounds and you can’t help but feel a little rejuvenated. It wasn't pampering of sorts- but she cared. She tried her best to show it and that’s truly what mattered. She fought against her nature to shame you and instead attempted to cure your ailments. She was rough around the edges but had a soft heart. The thought made you smile softly as you watched the shadows of fire dance along her olive-green skin. She catches your gaze for a moment and seems flustered. “Go rest.” She commands softly and you laugh breathlessly. It takes you a moment to get to your feet but you manage it. Some sleep would surely help repair the worst of it as long as you took it easy the next day.

Jaheira

Jaheira was an older elf. She could spot the telltale signs of wear. Whether that be mental or physical. She took care of her harpers for just about as long as she could recall at this point. It felt nice to not have to be the one in charge- but maybe she took too much comfort in it. A little guilt weighed in her heart. Too late to dwell, though, you needed assistance. The crackle of the fire was all that could be heard as you sat in front of it. You were still- seemingly lost in thought. She groaned a little as she lowered herself to a seat. Her knees weren’t as they used to be. The sound alerted your mind and you snapped out of it to look at the woman. She smiled softly at you and handed you a goblet. In her other hand was a bottle of wine and her own goblet. “Do not worry, no funny games this time. Just something to unwind.” You scrunch your nose a little before grabbing it.

The bottle uncorks and she pours a glass for you two. It’s not the finest wine but certainly was much better than the gruel served at the tiefling party. You draw your knees to your chest and take a long sip. After she takes a sip of her own she clicks her tongue in thought. Her gaze isn’t on you but on the campfire as she begins to speak. “You are more powerful than you know,” she begins and you look at her from the corner of your eye. “I’ve seen it firsthand. You vanquished the curse of the shadowlands and defeated Ketheric Thorm. I am surprised you didn’t succumb to exhaustion sooner.” You tense, almost expecting it to be an insult. Her softness of tone betrays that thought. “You need to rely on your friends and company more. We are here to help. We care. I care.” She enunciates the last word by looking at you. You can’t help but feel a soft fuzz blooming in your chest. Was it her words or the alcohol?

“I took care of my harpers for a century or more. It is hard work to look after the well-being of everyone else and yourself. I think I became too comfortable in letting you guide me. I apologize for that, truly.” You open your mouth to speak but she shushes you with a point of her goblet. That gesture makes you flush a little and take a sip of your wine once more. “I have seen many people in my life. I have lost many people in my life. You are among some of the most… wonderful I have seen. I will be damned if I lose you to anything beyond yourself.” She smiles at you, the age lines on her face only speaking to how truthful she is being. You can’t help but feel relaxed by both the influence of the alcohol and her words. You realize anything you say would be practically pointless. So, you just shuffle to her side and press against her. She hums in satisfaction and wraps an arm around you. You can hear her swallowing her wine more clearly. There’s a comfortable silence that is punctuated occasionally by the crackling of the fire.

“Another pour?” She offers as she holds the bottle and you cannot help but laugh while gesturing your goblet. Indulging for a night hurt nobody and hell you deserved it. She refills the two glasses and rests her head against yours. There’s a mutual understanding of comfort and connection between you two as you sip and watch the fire. It’s nice to not have to say anything in return. To be able to simply sit and digest the fact that somebody appreciates the fact that you work so tirelessly for them and everyone around you. It’s only til your goblets empty again does she finally pull away and cork the wine. You stand and allow the buzz of the alcohol to warm your veins and loosen your mind. She offers a hand out with a sheepish smile, “Help a gal up?” you tease her for a minute and grab her hand as she hoists herself off the ground. She regards you with a softness and plants a gentle kiss against your forehead. You two part and head to your respective tents to sleep the night away.

[constantinerkives]

Unholy Matrimony, YJM // (M)

PAIRINGS: GP Demon! Yoo Jimin x fem violinist reader

WARNINGS: bl00d, demonic ritual, use of classical music as a means of summoning a demon, brief mention of religion, violinist reader, YJM is the daughter of the big man downstairs (if you get what I mean), reader's in her early thirties but she offered herself when she was twenty-three, Karina has poetic rizz, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, marking, mating, unprotected sex (stay safe ya'll), breeding, breeding kink, creampie, age-gap, Karina speaks IN LATIN, who are we kidding, KARINA IS THE MAIN WARNING

SYNOPSIS: It's amazing how desperation can lead from one thing to another. You crave to be recognized, to be valued. And it's selfish - but she approves. After all, it's humane - greed. And she'd be a terrible wife if she doesn't support your one-way trip to eternal damnation. But that's where she comes in, to stop it from happening and give you nothing but luxury and comfort. I guess you can say that being married to a devil isn't bad after all.

A/N: Hi guys! this is my first fic, hope you like it <3333 I've also made some modifications from the original story, hope you guys won't mind. Sorry to keep you guys waiting but I was fighting demons (lmao) for the plot of this one-shot, Happy reading <3!

WORDCOUNT: 9, 535 oops this was self-indulgent AHHAHAHA shi-

THIS IS ALL FICTITIOUS AND THEREFORE SHALL NOT BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY.

TERMS AND DEFINITIONS: Melodiam meum - means 'my melody' in Latin Dilecto - beloved in Latin Hermaphrodite - an organism having both male and female sex organs or other sexual characteristics, either abnormally or as a natural condition Brava - well done or very good. It is used to praise a female performer

It's ridiculous

The creature watches with amusement as it eyes the young lady standing alone in her spacious living room. Her silhouette is wrapped in darkness with no source of light other than the soft glow of five white candles circling her. Her face remains in the dark, veiled with desperation with a whiff of mystery. 

How desperation can lead you to commit the things you thought you wouldn't do. 

"Please," She whispers, "Please work,"

It inclines its head, watching as the young lady pulls out a kitchen knife. The blade glints menacingly in the dark as she positions it atop her wrist. 

Do you want to do this?

And cuts her flesh, crimson dense liquid oozes out of her flesh and she directs it to-

The creature sneers. A violin. Her blood coats the strings of the instrument, and traces of her drip down to the floor as she picks up the bloody violin and begins to play a familiar piece; popular with seasoned violinists. 

The Devil's Trill Sonata

You are a desperate girl...

She plays with feverish determination all while her wrist continues to bleed. The demon crosses its legs, arms crossed against its chest, and leans comfortably against the velvet settee. 

That's it. Keep playing. I am no stranger to greed. Play it with your heart's desires. 

Her fingers smoothly transitioned from one note to another, clean and precise. The first movement leads you to a false sense of softness and beauty, and slowly...the devil grins as the young woman slightly loses her balance. She's running out of time, running out of blood. Ah, poor soul. She hasn't even reached the second movement yet. It seems like another soul will perish for nothing. It watches with practiced dismay as the girl's body visibly pales, and she's beginning to lose her energy. She's one push away from knocking a candle and collapsing - losing her life to a meaningless offer. 

After all, what the devil played was far superior to what Giuseppe Tartini had played. The creature's lips curl to a sneer. No other violinist had come close to its execution. 

Then, with a stroke of luck, the girl regained her composure for some unfathomable reason. The devil blinks, surprised by the sudden change as she grounds her feet against the tiled floors pooling with her blood and strokes the strings violently; the entity's face beams with unbridled pride. The girl plays over four octaves of the note G, with her hands stretched out over three octaves. A move that the daughter of Lucifer can only execute. 

Interesting

The human plays with intensity now, and the entity finds itself leaning away from the backrest of the seat, watching with phantom hawk-like eyes as the girl pours every last bit of her living minutes into its piece. For centuries, no one has executed it the same way this mere human did. Anger and envy flash in its eyes as it flicks a hand. The candles' feeble light extinguishes, all except one, and the girl weakly gasps. 

The entity hastily stands up from the velvet settee and gracefully stalks toward the confused and terrified girl as she mumbles: "What? What the hell happened - did it work?"

Oh, it did pretty human.

It grabbed the candle as it willed itself to manifest a physical form. The young woman gasps as the creature grabs her by the collar of her blouse, and with its' other hand, it holds the candle next to her features. The woman lets out a pathetic yelp as she looks up only to see two rich ichor irises looking down at her with scorn, envy, and dare she adds amusement.

The demon examines her delicate features, soft brown eyes, fair skin, and a whiff of innocence that crumbles down to greed and desperation. 

And fear

It's beautiful

"Have I satisfied you?" The girl meekly starts. Her voice sounds distant. She's hanging on for dear life, and the demon wanted her to fall into the pits of eternal damnation. But it begrudgingly longed for her to play it again. For no human played it as well as she. 

The entity narrows its' eyes as the girl begins to lose her balance. Her knees were about to give out if it wasn't for the being holding her by the collar. 

The demon leans close, and the girl's eyes visibly shake. It slowly lets go of her collar and reaches out for her cut wrist, its talons almost cutting into her skin. She gasps as she felt a searing burn crawl over her cut wrist. 

"Be seeing you," It said, vowed. Before the demon drops the candle and lets go of the girl, allowing her to collapse into her pool of blood before it disappears into thin air. 

Years have passed, and you are a renowned violinist of your generation. Here you stand in front of your devoted fans, playing the piece that brought you money, power, and glory in the world of music. 

A small smile graces your lips as the curtains close, and the theater erupts in cheers and applause. Another successful concert lands on your plate. You return to your first stance as your posture relaxes, and you make your way backstage. Your handler, Park Sooyoung, her fair complexion glows underneath the lights. Her exquisite red dress hugs her body flawlessly as she approaches you with a wide grin and drapes her arm around your shoulder. "Another successful concert - this calls for a celebration!" She wriggles her brows, and you merely chuckle in reply. 

As much as you want to, your muscles crave rest. And a drink. 

With an apologetic smile, you reject your handler's offer for a celebratory dinner, promising to eat with her tomorrow, but for now, you need a night's rest. 

She understands with a soft smile and gently pats your shoulder. "Of course, you deserve it after playing The Devil's Trill Sonata for almost fifteen minutes." Sooyoung chuckles. "But I'll escort you to your private drinking booth before I, too, call it a night. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," You agree, and the latter takes you to your destination and leaves you to your drink of choice, red wine. Château Lafite Rothschild. 

A pleased sigh leaves your lips as you unceremoniously collapse on your seat. Tired eyes examining your surroundings, your booth is a spacious room. Walls wrapped with high-quality velvet wallpaper, expensive paintings depicting pagan Gods, the lights were the same, albeit softer to look at, and plants to give the room a bit of life. 

A relaxing sight. You pour your wine and lean comfortably against your seat, your head thrown back, allowing your neck to rest whilst your right hand holds the stem of your wine glass. 

That's what life's about, luxury. 

And you bathed in it. You crave the beauty of wealth and luxury that your way in life has brought to you. 

Just as you're basking in peace, a figure emerges from the shadows in a black blur. You didn't notice it until the atmosphere grows heavy, your skin prickling at the sensation that someone is watching you. 

"Indeed, that's what life's all about. Isn't it? Basking in luxury." 

"You've done well tonight, Ji Y/N." Says a feminine voice, steely, low, and churning. You snap your head towards the owner of the voice; your face turns bloodless, even at the warm glow of the light, and there sits a resplendent woman wearing a black cropped blazer; underneath it is a matching black tube and matching back trousers and heels. At the base of her slim neck is a layered gold necklace. The outfit was simple, but her features made up for it. The woman sitting before you has a fair complexion that will put the moon to shame, a sharp jaw, plump lips, luscious black hair tied neatly to a high ponytail, and a small face. Not to mention her lean stature and posture. Judging by the way she gracefully sits, she's taller than you. And just like you, she too is holding a wine glass, slim fingers, and perfectly manicured nails secure the stem of her glass. 

But something's amiss. Yes, she is human, a beautiful human, and you're no stranger to all things beautiful - but something about this woman's beauty throws you off. 

A trip to the uncanny - something about her doesn't match humanity at all. 

She lacked warmth, not only in her eyes but her overall presence. 

"Who are you?" You demanded, "What are you doing here?"

The woman's lips curl to a grin, showing you her perfect set of teeth. "You don't remember?" She asks in return, unperturbed. Your face twists to a scowl, "I asked you a question." Posture bristling with guarded animosity before you peered over her shoulder. "Security!"

The air grows heavy as the woman holds an open palm up. She is no longer smiling. "That won't be necessary." Her voice was cold and cutting, booming with authority like no other. Then, her grin returns. "Perhaps this shall jog your memory, pretty girl." 

She blinks, and her cold, brown eyes change to a rich hue of gold. Menacing and distant. 

"Be seeing you,"

On cue, your right wrist burns, causing you to drop your wine glass against the carpeted floor. You back away from her, standing up too hastily, and in return your seat tumbles. 

"You," A sharp gasp leaves your lips. No, it's too soon. A cold, hard laugh tumbles from the latter's lips. "My," She sips her drink before gently setting it against the tabletop. 

"Are you here to collect my soul?" There it is again, that meek tone. The devil inclines her head to the side, brows furrowed. "Me? Collect you? Oh. No, no. Not yet melodiam meum." You don't know what it means, but the way it rolled off her tongue made your gut churn. 

"Then why are you here?" You voiced out. 

She eyes you up and down. "You know, my beloved. I am offended by the turn of events." She stands up, and you instinctively back away as she circles the table and stalks toward you. Her hips swayed in a sultry manner as she did. She keeps advancing until your back is pressed against the wall, hands pressed to your sides while the raven-haired enigma delicately brushes her knuckles against your cheek. The contact sends shivers down your spine. Her proximity allows you to inhale her seductive scent. The blend of florals with amber and musk is a perfect balance of femininity and masculinity. 

"For years, I watched over you. I made sure no harm came to you and only commanded success to fall into your plate. I blessed you with concert after concert - and I know your love for all things beautiful." The devil purrs.

"So I made myself beautiful for you, dilecto." 

Not a single lie in sight. "Who are you?"

"Karina," She replies, "My name is Karina Yoo." The latter pauses. Her gold eyes trailed down from your eyes to your lips. 

"Do remember that, my bride. I will walk the earth with you until your time here is due. And the world will know me as your companion, your spouse." 

And your vision turns black. 

You woke with a groan, your head throbs with pain, and you shift in your bed. The white sheets cling onto your skin as you lay on your side, the sun peeking through your curtains, blessing your suite with its light. You stare up at the ceiling, rubbing the sleep of your eyes, and as you regain your awareness. Well, so are your memories of last night. 

Your body quickly turns cold, and you sit up, muscles aching in protest, but you ignore it as you check yourself. You are wearing your sleepwear as opposed to the form-fitting dress you wore for the concert last night. Nothing else seems to be wrong except for the fact that you did not change your dress last night. Who brought you to your suite, then? It couldn't be Sooyoung. She went on her way first.

"You're awake," Says a familiar, cold voice. 

The hairs at the back of your neck rise. 

Slowly, you turn your head to the tall figure leaning against the doorway to your lounging area. Karina, as she calls herself, is no longer wearing her black suit. Instead, she's wearing a white button-up shirt, black trousers that reach three inches above her ankles, and black oxfords. Her rich, black hair cascaded freely like a black waterfall. 

"Karina," You rasped, and the devil's lips curled to a smile. "You remembered."

You press your back against the headboard, posture brustling with animosity as your hands' fists the sheets. "What did you do to me?"

The latter frowns, "I did nothing, pretty girl. I merely allowed your body to rest for tonight before-"

"Before what?" You cut her off breathlessly as your forehead begins to sweat, and your body becomes warm with each passing second - soon, your body is veiled by a thin sheen of sweat, making you uncomfortable as you throw the duvet away from your feverish body. 

Your stomach churns harshly, and your eyes sting as you fall onto your side, hands clutching your stomach as you look at the entity standing at the foot of your bed, eyes studying your writhing figure. 

"What did you do to me?" You sob as the pain doubles, fiery, almost. 

Karina's features break to a knowing smile as if she had seen this before and approaches the side of your bed, the mattress dips at her weight and reaches a pale, slender hand towards you, and you find yourself not moving, too feverish, so you let her touch you. And her touch was soothing. 

"Shhh," The raven-haired enigma coaxes, "Your body is reacting to its new owner. Best to let me handle this, Y/N." 

New owner?

You couldn't process anything, distracted by her touch soothes your hot skin as you slowly relax into the sheets. A relieved sigh leaves your lips as the pain ebbs away. 

"Easy does it," She remarks, "Are you feeling better now, delicto?" 

"Yes," You reply curtly as you eye her warily. "Wonderful," She gracefully stands from your bed, "Now rest. I'm sure you have questions for me once you recover." 

"No," You protest, and her gaze turns sharp, making you shrink in your bed as she tilts her head. "No? What do you mean no?"

"I have a meeting with a sponsor," You stammer under her piercing gaze. The latter pauses, "You have plenty of time to prepare, rest. I'll take care of it." 

"Take care of what?"

She flashed her bright golden eyes at you, and once again, your vision turns black. Three hours later, a scandal broke out.

Italy is known for its warm, Mediterranean climate. Summers are always hot, sunny, and dry. 

But no amount of summer dresses can protect you from the cold, piercing gaze of your handler who sits across you in a cafe with her arms crossed and her expression blank. 

After Karina took care of your meeting with a sponsor, word got out fast and a controversy broke out with your fans shocked at the fact that you are married. Hence the meeting with your handler, who also knew nothing of the situation. 

"So," She begins, "You're married?"

You tried not to cringe as you looked at Karina; who was sitting beside you, drinking her espresso with gusto. She wore a black coat with red lapels, a black turtle neck, trousers, and heels. 

"Yes," She replies as she sets down her mug. Sooyoung slowly turns to your 'wife' before looking at you. "And since when were you two married?"

"Seven years," Karina smoothly replies. You two shared a glance. Seven years ago, you offered your soul to her.

"And how come I only knew about this after Mrs. Yoo talked to your sponsor?"

"I wasn't feeling well," You wince, "I told my wife-" This coming off from your tongue is a foreign sensation. "That it can wait, but she insisted." 

"Y/N was bone-tired last night." Karina adds, "I'd be a terrible wife if I insist that she gets out of the house to speak to the sponsor, so I took it upon myself to go." You softly cleared your throat, "How did the public react to this?"

"They've seen Karina's photos." Sooyoung leans against her seat, "They approve of her." A wry smile graced her lips, "That adds your wife to their list of 'celebrity crushes' I believe."

You repressed a sigh of relief, "That's good news." 

"Don't be too relieved yet," She massages her temples, "You have yet to address this at your conference. I'll have your script ready, and of course, your wife has to follow it as well." She turns to look at the devil disguised as your wife. "Is that okay with you?"

Karina grins and suddenly interlocks her hand with yours. The sudden action surprises you, and she flashes you a look. Your lips form a practiced smile, and you duck your head as if you are flustered. 

"Yes, I'm fine with it. So long as this keeps my wife happy." 

"Good, the conference starts at 2 PM sharp. Let's get you both ready before then." 

Addressing your marriage to the public was easy. The press loved ogling at your 'wife'. You can't blame them though she looked ethereal in her outfit; a form-fitting black, high-neck dress and a black blazer draped over her shoulders, and her hair was freely cascading down to her breasts with diamond earrings as her accessories while you wore white dress. Both of you looked exquisite during the conference, and you didn't forget the way the reporters begin talking all at once upon announcing your next concert and the piece you'll be laying next. 

The Last Rose Of Summer by Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst. 

Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst is not the biggest name in classical music, but his ‘The Last Rose Of Summer’ is notorious among violinists for being a complete nightmare to play. Ernst was an obsessive devotee of Paganini, the original violin rockstar, and he loved to include stupidly complex pizzicato in his music. Karina's soft lips curl to a smirk as she ends the event by taking your hand in hers. You eye her cautiously. This wasn't part of the script? 

Still, she raises your hand and brings it to her soft, warm lips, pecking the back of your palm. Your cheeks warmed as the cameras flashed. Your spouse looks at the press and flashes them a jaw-dropping smile. "We'll get going now. May you all have a nice afternoon." Without another word, she leads you down from the stage and to the exit, where a sleek black car awaits the both of you. 

"Take us back to the hotel, please." You told the driver. The man nods and was about to close the partition before Karina speaks up. "Take us to Ratanà, Mr. Giovani. I'll treat my wife to a nice meal after the conference." 

"Very well, Mrs. Yoo." The driver replies with a thick accent before finally closing the partition. You glare at the latter while she leans comfortably against the leather cushion and looks at you. Karina arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Why the surly look, wife?"

"What are you going to do in a restaurant?" You snap at her. Karina guffaws in amusement. 

"I'd like to see how the world changed after centuries." She simply answers. "I'd like to see more of the world with my two eyes." 

A huff leaves your lips as you turn away from her and cross your arms against your chest. "You still have some explaining to do." 

"Which is why a restaurant is a perfect place for it." 

"People will hear you." 

"I've booked us a private booth." You snapped your head towards her, "You did what?"

"I won't repeat myself, beloved." She chuckles, "As you've said, I owe you an explanation. 

The people inside Ratanà gawked at the two of you as soon as you entered the restaurant. The clattering of plates and utensils stopped as well. You flush at the reaction while your wife places her hand on the small of your back. Even with your dress, you can't help but shudder at the contact as she flashes the crowd a charming smile before leading you to your private booth with a female waiter stationed outside your door. 

"We'll order later," Karina's smooth velvet voice coaxed the woman into an agreement before finally entering the private booth. 

She pulls out the chair for you to sit on, and you begrudgingly obey as she sits across you. Silence permeated the air. Gone is her alluring aura, replaced by enigma. As if all of it was an act - it is. 

"Where to begin, where to begin." She mused wryly. 

"Why are you here if not to claim my soul, then?" You snap, "Why waste your time tagging along?"

Karina tilts her head. Her intelligent eyes regarded you.

"Well," She begins with a distant smile. "I visited you every two years, watching from afar while you amassed your concerts just to see how your talent has bloomed."  

You wait for her to explain further, "I'll be frank, darling." Your gut churns at the endearment. "Throwing you into the pits of hell after your time is done is nothing but an exercise of futility, a talent like yours deserves to have a place next to mine." 

Your brows furrow, "Next to yours?"

Her lips curled, "Why do you think you offered your soul to me out of all the demons out there?"

You replied with silence, and Karina narrowed her eyes in disapproval. "Something tells me that you didn't gather the slightest bit of information about who I am, delicto." She leaned away from the backrest of her seat and interlaced her fingers together. "Tell me, do you know who I am?"

"A devil who named herself Karina Yoo." 

A scoff befalls her lips, "Foolish girl, you're lucky to have offered your soul to me." 

"Why?" You snarked, "If I'm so lucky, why?"

Her eyes flashed, "My father," She hisses through gritted teeth, "Is the angel of music. Lucifer was the angel of music. After his fall, he reigned in Hell and has simply lost interest in that title." Her expression darkens, "Which is why I took that spot while I helped humanity discover it with my profound ability that I inherited from him."

Your eyes subtly widen, "Yes," She growled.

"You're sitting with the daughter of Lucifer. His finest creation, second to music." Her eyes glowed to cruel gold. "And you tied yourself to me, Ji Y/N. You offered your body and soul to me. That makes you mine as I am yours."

Something's not right. Why is there an indirect statement of equality?

As if reading your mind, she addresses it with a softer tone. 

"As I've said, my beloved: leaving you to burn in hell would be a waste. I have taste in talent just as much as you have taste for beautiful things. In my millennium of harvesting souls, I am nothing but a sponsor to those who offer themselves to me. I will keep you. I've decided to keep you after hearing you play all these years. And I confess that I envy your ability, albeit you're human. I am still superior to you on all levels, but when it comes to music, we are equals."

"So that makes me your actual wife, then?" You squeaked. Karina lets out a rumbling chuckle, "Oh, yes, darling." You hold her gaze, and this time, it's intense. 

"That makes you mine as I am yours." She husked, her eyes tracing your features possessively. "So if you had any lovers or flavors of the day, forget about them." 

"So possessive," You remark shakily, and the latter lets out a wolfish grin. "I am a demanding creature, Y/N." She then leans away from you. "We can order now. After this, we can return to the hotel, and you can start practicing the piece you'll perform at your concert next month. The earlier you master it, the better. And I will help you along the way." 

She's right, of course, but you wouldn't admit it to her face. 

"Alright, call in the waitress." 

Your routine is divided from going out with your wife to practicing until your fingers go numb. 

The Last Rose Of Summer by Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst was the last of his Six Polyphonic Studies for solo violin. It is a set of incredibly difficult variations for the violin. The first few weeks were nothing but agony as you practiced in a private setting, preferably away from the devil of music. 

For days, it's either you couldn't transition smoothly to another note, or you struck a wrong chord. Either way, it's still a mistake.

This complex set—full of every imaginable and unimaginable technical difficulty—includes an introduction, theme, four variations, and a devilish finale. At first glance, an impossible task. This one requires both physical and mental fortitude. And each mistake drains it out of you. 

"Jeez," Sooyoung hisses as soon as she sets foot into the room. "Y/N, get yourself off the floor and sit on the couch, will you?"

A tired groan leaves your lips as you force yourself to get up. Your muscles ached in protest as a result of standing for hours. 

"You know what," Sooyoung sighs as soon as you unceremoniously plop on the couch. "How about we call your wife, hm?"

"No," You sigh as your tired mind thinks of a lie. "She's busy."

"Busy doing what?" Shit

"Managing her family's financial reports." Yeah, that should do it. 

"Don't be ridiculous," The latter admonishes, "Your wife is never too busy for you. I'll call her."

"Sooyoung no-" Too late, she had dialed her number, and you tuned out their conversation. "She says she's on her way." Your handler informs you as soon as she drops the call, "See, I told you she isn't too busy when it comes to you." 

"Whatever," You mumble as you close your eyes to get a few minutes rest. 

By the time Karina made her presence known, it was already evening. You scowl at her as you groggily sit up. "What took you so long?"

"You looked peaceful," She snorts, "And besides, you're more tolerable when you're not scowling at me all the time." 

"What time is it?"

The devil checks her watch. She bought it a few days ago from Bulgari. "6:37 PM, why?"

"Shit, that's late." 

"You needed rest," She reminds you as she sits next to you. You lean away, taken aback by her proximity as she looks down at your fingers, "And your fingers were turning purple. You practiced for quite some time and ignored your body's protests for rest. Hence why you collapsed next to this couch." 

How did she-

"Sooyoung told me," She answers. "Why force your body to such limits?"

You rolled your eyes, "You sound like my wife," 

"Because I am your wife," She grins, "So take care of yourself." 

You blink at her. For weeks that you spent with her, the older woman did nothing but make sure you were comfortable and safe, sure there was bickering, and dare you say banter. But she performed her duties as a wife should. It's baffling, to receive this treatment from a devil of her caliber. 

"Why are you staring at me like that?" She questions, her eyes beaming at your attention before you tear your gaze from her. "Nothing, I'm hungry." 

"Perfect," She grins, "I discovered a recipe that you might like." 

Oh?

"Cooking, you?" You mused, and Karina lets out a carefree laugh. It sounded pleasant. Not that you would say that to her face. "Why yes, pretty girl." She grins, "Now come. I want you to be a witness of me cooking a dish created by humans." 

She grabs you by the hand, and your pulse quickens at the contact as she leads you out of the building and to your car, a sleek, gray Bently Continental GT S. The raven-haired beauty opens the passenger door for you. You didn't say anything and entered the vehicle. She closes the door gently and enters the driver's seat, finally driving to your designated hotel. 

The smell of roasted lamb chops floods the dining area of your suite. Karina said that it'll be done in a few minutes. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of the delicacy in Karina's bare palms as she places it in front of you. She dusts the lamb chops with garlic, rosemary, salt, and pepper. Your mouth waters at the meal she prepared for you while she sits across from you, eyeing your face with mirth before finally gesturing at your dinner. 

"Well? Dig in." 

You didn't need to be told twice and began wolfing down your food. 

Karina watched you carefully as you ate with gusto before stopping midway. The older woman frowned, "What's wrong?" 

You look up at her, "It's not poisoned, isn't it?"

She placed a hand over her chest in faux offense. 

"Poison? You?" The raven-haired woman continues: "I would never. You must have faith in me, beloved. I would never poison a pretty girl like you."

Your cheeks change their color to a subtle hue of pink. "Faith is foreign for someone of your caliber, Karina."

"Trust me," She grins, "We're more direct than your trusted angels, beloved."

A hum leaves your lips as you continue to eat. Karina once again watches you before you pause for the second time. "Aren't you hungry?"

"We have a different diet from you humans. Souls, that's what we feed on, your intense emotions, energies." 

"Are you feeding from me right now?"

The latter replies with an unbridled smirk, "I am, but at least we're both benefitting." 

"Fair enough," You shrug before finishing your dinner. 

"Are you having a difficult time practicing your piece?" She asks after you've finished your dinner. A pause, "Yes, but I'll get better." 

"Not very reassuring, delicto." She replies as she interlocks her fingers, her expression serious. "Your concert is in three weeks, and your piece has four sections."

"Then what can we do about it?"

"I can help you." Karina offers - no, states. "It'll be quick, and you will save time." 

You arched a brow, "By what, cutting my wrist and pouring it over my violin?"

The devil guffaws at your snarky reply, "No, no. You perform. I will proctor your performance and give you feedback accordingly." 

You contemplated her offer. It's not that big of a deal. Perhaps guidance from a devil of music could save you time. "Alright," You rub your palms together. "Perfect," She purrs.

"When can we start?"

"Tomorrow," Karina checks her watch, "We'll start after lunch. Is that okay with you?"

You have nothing to do anyways, "Fine by me." 

"You missed a note," She looks up from her book. "Again, from the top." 

You bite your inner cheek and return to your second stance before slowly stroking the strings. Minutes later, she stops you again. 

"Your timing is off." 

"Don't I know," You grunt as you return to your first position and begin again. 

Hours turn into days. While yes, having Karina monitor your performance saves time, you can't help but feel your patience waning whenever she stops your performance. 

"Again,"

"I didn't even miss the note!" You asserted. Karina closes her book and looks at you. You stop yourself from saying more as your bones ache from standing for two hours. 

She lets out a hum, a tone that holds no consequence of your assertion.

"I forget that you're human." She says to herself rather than you. "But you have to keep up with me, beloved. Let's take a break. How do thirty minutes sound to you?"

"Wonderful," You groan before you sit on the floor of your lounging area. 

It went on for another week with the devil being surprisingly patient with you. Even with your patience cutting short, Karina allows your jabs to fall on her with every mistake you make improves under her watchful eye. 

You are forced to stop when you couldn't reach the note. "Crap," You cursed as you messed with the transition to the ending of the piece. Karina took notice of this and tilts her head, "Try to position your hand once more." She instructs, and who are you to disobey? She is your wife, your mentor. And so far, you learn quickly with the techniques she's amassed through the years. 

She examines your hand before standing from her settee and moving behind you. You stiffen at her proximity as her pale hand hovers atop yours while the other grasps your waist. A soft gasp leaves your lips as she presses her front against your back. The latter smirks but resumes correcting your finger placement. 

"Position your hand like this," She husked. A shudder leaves your lips as her warm breath fans the outer shell of your ear. Your skin tingles at her touch. 

"There," She purrs, "Very good,"

But she doesn't let go. 

She retracts your hand from the fingerboard of your violin and places it on your hips, securing you against her. "You know," She rasped, "This is by far the closest we've been." She flushed herself against yours as if she couldn't get enough, "As your wife, I've never received an embrace from you, beloved." 

"If you wanted a hug," You breathily reply as you lean into her touch. Karina's lips found themselves on the exposed expanse of your neck, ghosting over your skin. "Why didn't you just ask for it?"

She chuckles deeply, and it has your guts churning. "Oh, can I ask for one now?" You balk up a response, and Karina's patience wears thin as she spins you around. Her strength forces you to face her and drop your violin and violin bow. Your eyes blew back at the cruel glow of gold in her eyes. Her black veins surface on the sides of her gorgeous face. Her skin is paler than normal. She uses one hand and grabs your hair from behind, forcing you to look up at her with a hiss. 

Your eyes traverse from her eyes down to her kissable lips. Karina notices this and licks her in return. You swallow harshly at the sight. 

"I can sense it, Y/N." 

"Sense what?" You breathe out, and your wife sharply inhales and leans close. "Your hunger, no, not from food, but for me, beloved. I don't see the point in holding back." Her other hand traverses upwards; to your neck and gently squeezes it, eliciting a gasp from you before she uses that same hand to pull you impossibly close to her. 

"Be selfish, be lustful - lose your inhibitions to me, Y/N. I am your wife, your mistress, your servant. Use me as I will use you." She leans closer to the point that your lips are almost touching, her plump lips begging to be kissed by yours. 

"Sin with me, darling." Her voice distorts, "For sin is your birthright. Your faith has taught you to deny your desires and it has imprisoned you. Break your restraint. As your wife I encourage it, my love." She sighs as your hand caresses her cheek. 

"I am selfish, needy, and demanding. Y/N. And you shouldn't be less than I am. Let me have you, let me spoil you some more, even with the riches that are foreign to the world of the living, allow me to embrace you - you will be my queen. Fair as the sea and the sun." 

And while she pours her declaration, Karina Yoo's lips fascinated you. It sickens you all at once, but that is what seduction does to you. Her lips; were plump and inviting. Though you find her frightening at times, you can't help but feel as if you've known her before, that you are perfect for her. If you wanted something beautiful, this woman would be would give it to you. If you have an ideal type, this woman would be your ideal. 

You had not known before that you wanted all these things. That you preferred dark hair and a slightly cruel expression, that you wished for tallness, or that a woman embracing you and pouring her confession might thrill you. A whole young life’s worth of slowly collected predilections coalesced in a few moments within you, and Karina Yoo, her eyes glowing with desire, becomes beautiful and perfect. 

You shivered, and without thinking, you leaned in to capture her lips with yours. Not on the cheek, not chastely or unchastely, but greedily with your whole mouth. She reciprocates this, she eats your breath in the kiss, and you feel like she would swallow you whole. Your hands shamelessly claw her silk shirt from behind, crumpling the expensive fabric as the daughter of Lucifer deepens the kiss by tilting her head. Her grip on your hair tightens, and her other hand's nails dig against your hips. 

Together, your lips move languidly against each other, and the world feels like it's so far away. 

You two kiss until your human lungs burn for oxygen, and you push your wife away begrudgingly. 

Here you two are, panting and wanting more before she chased your lips with hers. Her mouth is hot against yours. You can taste the feverish desire from her. Suddenly, she bites you. You pull away from her, hurt and surprised as you raise your hand to your mouth. Your fingers are bloody, and Karina's lips were smeared with it. Her eyes gleamed. 

You balked. Your lips pulsed where your wife's long, thin canines had cut you. 

If you allow her to do this to you, what else will you let her do to you?

Anything,

Anything,

Anything,

Karina Yoo, your wife, your mistress, your slave, wiped your crimson blood from her lips. She eyes you with hooded, glazed eyes as she licks it clean. 

"Beautiful," She closes her eyes and slowly opens them before her arms circle around you greedily, and your back is suddenly pressed against the mattress of your private quarters. 

Her bright eyes are predatorial as she stares down at you. She wasted no time putting her hands on your waist. Her sensual scent invades your nostrils as she presses her lips against yours. You can taste your blood on her tongue as your hands cup her jaw. Karina's tongue glides against your lower lip before breaking into your mouth; only because you let her. She swallows your moan as she slides her tongue in your mouth, and she lets out a guttural growl in reply as your skin becomes hot under her touch. 

The older woman leans away and unravels your button shirt, and harshly pulls it off your body, leaving you alone with your bra. Her ichor-hued eyes visibly darken to a hue of copper before her lips attach to the column of your neck. Her hands smoothly go to your back and unclasp your bra, and haphazardly throw it somewhere in the room. 

You let out a mewl when she softly bit the center of your neck, followed by a gasp when her tongue smoothens it, she pulls you into an all-consuming kiss, her hands let go of your wrists, and your hands hastily gripped her biceps as her weight doubles making you press against the mattress, her lips muffling your groans and grunts as her teeth bite your lower lip, forcing a gasp out of you and allowing her to insert her tongue inside your mouth, your grip on her tightens as your lungs burn from the lack of oxygen. 

She pulls away for a split second, allowing you to breathe before connecting her lips with yours, her hips bucking and thrusting against your clothed core, making you moan into her mouth as lust ignites between your legs. You tilted your head to meet her kiss as your legs circled her waist. 

Karina groans, and she thrusts her hips against yours. You feel something poking against your clothed core. It's hard, and it feels good. 

As if sensing your curiosity, Karina chuckles deeply. "We're hermaphrodite beings, beloved. I can pleasure you as a man, or woman, or both." She breathes against your lips. "Which do you prefer?"

"You," You mewl as she kisses your neck. "I want what you are right now, even forever." 

The latter grins and bites into your neck, eliciting a yelp from you as she traverses her kiss downwards until she reaches the waistband of your pajamas. Karina's lips curl to a smirk, her hands latching onto the fabric of your pants before she effortlessly rips it and throws the torn fabric away. Your eyes widen while hers light up in amusement as she licks her upper teeth. 

"Relax," She purrs as her finger hooks the hem of your panties and yanks down. Your cunt flutters at the exposure, toes curling with anticipation as your wife dips down, her tongue takes a bold lick on the seam of your pussy and shuddering when she retracts and swallows. 

"Divine," She darkly grins as her hands pry your thighs to spread and latch onto your folds, eliciting a yelp from you as her tongue breaches your walls. You throw your head back when the warm, wet muscle begins to messily move in circles. Your arousal drips down the seams as she alternates from sucking and circling, eyes closing shut as carnal desire begins to take over the both of you. "Karina," You softly moan, "Fuck, so good - more, give me-"

She cuts you off with a growl, sending vibrations against your cunt. The sensation has your eyes rolling back as her tongue thrusts in and out. You plant your feet against the mattress and buck your hips against her face. "Fuck!"

Karina grunts and bites your clit, this sends white-hot pleasure through your body with carnal rapture seeping inside you as the woman withdraws. "Oh, you like that, don't you?" Des[ote your flustered state, your cheeks reddens. Karina hums and licks her lips which are covered in your arousal and her spit. "Let's try that again, yeah?"

She didn't let you reply and connected her mouth to your folds. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as heat bubbles within your body. You bristle in lust as the woman kept lapping your juices, her tongue working hard on sucking and thrusting inside your core, the obscene sounds were enough to lubricate you, your hand takes a purchase of her hair, tugging on it as moans and mewls befall your lips, evidently pleasing the woman who in turn moaned at the taste, doubling the sensation as she bites your clit again. 

Your back arched as does this again and again. Triggering a bundle of nerves. "Karina," You whimper, and you can feel her smirk as she finally decided to have mercy on you, her teeth retracting from your clit and deciding to continue back to eating your out, both your juices and her saliva drip down from your ass to the sheets as she continues to ravage you. 

And when her tongue manages to find a spongey spot, she immediately flicks it. Her ministrations made you see stars, hips jolting and accidentally grazing your clit against her teeth, making her moan while eliciting a pleasured cry from you. Walls clenching against her tongue, the woman in between your legs is determined to finish you off as her teeth keep biting your clit; helping her stimulate your orgasm as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, back arching and sweat dripping off every pore as your undoing hits you, knocking your breath out of your lungs.

The woman groaned at your nectar, lapping it up until you were whimpering, thighs shaking, and hands trying to pry away her head.

Karina decided to have mercy on your state and pull away with cum-smeared lips that formed into a smug smirk.

Despite your blurred vision, you can see your wife resting her head on the side of your thigh, kissing the expanse of skin before trailing up to your lower abdomen, giving it a soft kiss and mumbling something incoherent before kissing her way up to your lips, her body looming above you her hands trapping your sides as her lips mold with yours, giving you a taste of yourself as your hands caress her upper body, fingers working on with the buttons and belt of her suit to touch her bare, dewy skin.

Karina made it easier for you by snapping her fingers; she is just as bare as you.

Your eyes shamelessly trail down her body. Karina's body is lithe, though her biceps are slightly defined, so are her collarbones, her toned stomach, and...

Your eyes trail lower, and your core throbs with excitement. 

So this is what a hermaphrodite being looks like. 

Or maybe, that's just Karina adjusting for you. Either way; you'll take her as she is. 

The latter grabs your jaw, forcing you to lock eyes with her.

"Let's see," She rasped, "Just how much you can take from me, pretty mortal." 

Her body is never far away from yours, always flushed as her lips wrap around the exposed skin she finds. Your hands grabbed her strong back helplessly as she lodged her cock deep within you, veins rubbing and drilling with vigor while you moaned beneath her. "Fuck," She breathed, pulling out before thrusting back in, eliciting a gasp from you as she fucks you with abandon.

Her talons clawed the sheets, eyes screwing shut with every pound. 

"Fuck, beloved." Karina softly moans as she drills deeper into you. The force behind her thrust pushes you upward, and she had to lock her arms around you to keep you from leaving her. 

Your lips bite her shoulder to muffle a scream when she hits a spongey area. You heard Karina groan softly when your wall clenched greedily, hips snapping back and forth, your stomach coils, your skin burning with carnal want as your legs lock around her waist, ankles pressed against each other as her essence leaks from your abused cunt to the sheets after going at it for hours. The older woman felt her balls tighten, and her cock swelled as she pressed her forehead against yours, mewling as your release made your walls feel tight. You smell the mix of perfume, sweat, and sex from your bodies as her thrusts get sloppier and shallow to the point that she isn't pulling out anymore, her hips pistoning the same vulnerable spot that she had to muffle your strained moans with an ardent kiss as Karina stills her hips, thick spurts of cum painting your walls; you can only whimper; cunt accepting what she has to offer as this also triggers your orgasm, unannounced.

Karina pressed a kiss against your clammy temple, your walls convulsing, clenching around her incessantly.

Your hair is tousled and unruly, and your neck and collarbones were covered in her marks. The woman above you growls and sets her speed, her warm, thick cock drilling in and out in carnal want, ichor-hued eyes veiled with devouring lust as she throws her head back when you willfully clench your walls around her. Your lips chased her neck, nipping her Adam's apple, and she slightly falters. You can see the veins prominently bulging from her neck, beads of sweat running down her beautiful skin, and her sharp jaw on display for you. You drink in the sight as you pull her back to you, her wet hair sliding back, her kissable lips twitching to a smirk, gasping and whining with every clench of your needy cunt. 

The raven-haired beauty presses you harder against the bed, her weight doubling as she flushes her body against yours, her dick pistoning in and out of you, raw. Her pace bristles with an animalistic drive, her breath fans your lips, and grunts and hush moans break past her lips with every pound. 

"Are you close?" She couldn't control the distortion of her voice while you shamelessly raked your nails against her back. "Fuck," You mewled, "Yes - close."

The daughter of Lucifer mouths your cheek, mapping your features with her mouth as her toned stomach flexes. Your thighs burn with every pound and tears trail down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you choke a sob. The latter groans and withdraws her cock until only the tip remains and slams back in. You dig your nails harder, leaving crescent shapes and red vertical lines along her back to the point that you're aware of how much that would be painful for her.

"Harder,"

You briefly pull away to lock eyes with her, the obscene sounds of skin slapping reverberate in your room, and she looks at you with a small smile. "Use me," She pecks your lips softly, "As I am using you."

And who are you to refuse?

You hide your face against the column of her neck as the appendage kisses your cervix, and she does this again, and again, and again. She fucks you harder on your mattress, deeper, and you are on the verge of letting go. "Don't hold back," She moans.

Her cock twitches inside you, her hands move to the sheets, crumpling it as if her life depended on it while she fucks you carelessly, and your body heats up.

You bite down on her neck, muffling a scream as you cum, and milk her cock dry, legs trembling like a leaf, and your vision blackens. Karina sighs in pleasure as her cock savors your nectar. She bites the juncture of your neck and keeps fucking you through your orgasm.

And finally, she lets out a high-pitched moan and cums. She stills her hips and hides her head in the crook of your neck that's littered with marks. Her cock spurted out thick warm spurts of her seed, her soft lips kissing the side of your neck, your hand circled on her hip while the other one held her nape, both of you panting for breath.

After a minute of silence, she looks up at you. "Can you do one more?"

You nod mindlessly. Of course, one more always meant more than what you thought Karina said. 

Because even as a devil, a daughter of Lucifer; she took you to heaven's door multiple times. 

You knew that once she had a taste of you she'd never stop. 

Karina...that woman is insatiable. 

And of course, you'd let her do anything to you. 

A moan leaves your lips, only to be silenced by her hand clamping over your mouth. 

You'd let her fuck you an hour before your concert. 

The devil looms over your face, the light shielding the smirk on her lips while she fucks you against the sectional couch. The raven-haired beauty moves her hips languidly against yours. Her pace is desperate and strong and you claw her Brioni suit that you bought for her two days before your concert. Her pants pooled her ankles, while you're still wearing your bathrobe, or rather what's left of it. How did this start? You just finished taking a bath and walked past your 'wife' who's already done preparing. She said you smelled good. Bullshit. 

"Do you want me to go faster?" She asks, mockery evident in her tone. "Fuck - yes!" You choked a gasp as she jogs her hips firmly, and you let your head fall against the couch chanting: Yes, and fuck, your pussy clenches in gratification eliciting a moan from Karina as she licks a line from your neck to your ear. 

"Is that better?" She husked, and you moaned again in reply. The devil growls and sets her speed, her used, hard cock drilling in and out of you in carnal want, her blown, brown eyes flashing gold and veiled with lust. She throws her head back to move her hair that's sticking against her sweaty face. Sweat runs down her pale skin, her sharp jawline in display for you. You drink in the sight - like a lewd statue exclusive to you. Not to mention the suit that compliments her lean form, her hair wet and slid back, soft lips twitching to a gasp, chuckle, and groan with every clench of your needy cunt. 

You lean up to capture her neck with your lips, tongue licking her Adam's apple before biting it. Karina moans loudly, and you peck her for it before she turns it into a tongue-dancing session. Karina's hands cup your face and press you harder against the couch. Her weight doubles as she flushes her body against yours, her veiny cock pistoning in and out of you, her pace bristling with an animalistic drive, breath fanning your lips. 

Karina maps your features with her eyes before she brushes a familiar spot that have you rolling your eyes in return. Her stomach flexes, your thighs burn from her ramming, and tears trail down your cheeks. You're thankful you haven't put any makeup or skincare on for it. Karina gasps, the sight enticing her, and she momentarily stops thrusting. The devil pulls out eliciting a breathy whimper from you as you pull her close, head shaking sideways as your eyes begged her not to pull away. Karina slams back in. You screw your eyes shut as she abuses the spot again. A vicious grin graces her lips as she fucks you harder, deeper in your fitting room with her other hand clamping over your mouth. 

You've reached your limit.

You bite her hand to muffle a scream as the strong wave of your orgasm hits you. Karina bites your shoulder, pointed teeth piercing your skin as you milk her dry, your legs shaking like a leaf, and your vision blackens - your energy drains and your skin is covered in a thick veil of sweat. 

"That's it," She groans as she cums inside you. Warm, goopy, and generous. She lays on top of you, her arms snaking on your hips while you caress the back of her hair. 

While you're fucked out, the latter seems to bask in the afterglow of fucking. Her golden eyes examine your state before grinning and pressing a kiss on your clammy forehead. "Rest," She gently commands with a soft voice, "I'll fix you up later, okay?"

You swallow harshly, throat dry. "Fix me later or fuck me later minutes before the concert starts?"

Karina's chest rumbles with a chuckle, "The former, though I wouldn't mind fucking all night after the concert." 

You groan in reply, and she laughs, "I'm serious, beloved. Rest and I'll take good care of you." 

To master 'The Last Rose of Summer' is an ambition for most violinists, and with the devil of music as your wife, success never tasted so good before as you have the audience at the palm of your hand. 

The spotlight at your divine figure, at your hands that transitioned from one note to another with angelic grace. 

Your eyes are locked with the devil in the front-row seat of Teatro Alla Scala, one of the most famous theatres in the world. It was built in the late 18th Century to plans made by the architect Giuseppe Piermarini, at the request of Empress Maria Theresa of Austria. A range of operas, classical concerts, and ballets are performed during the theatre season, which is one of the most important appointments in the Milanese social calendar.

Karina sat there crossed-legged with a smile, wearing her navy blue, double-breasted wool Plume suit, and trousers, inside, she wore a white turtle neck, and her hair is neatly combed and slid back. Her black hair cascades beautifully for you to see as she watches you with pride and acknowledgment. 

You couldn't help but mirror her smile. 

Something has changed within you, you can't help but glow at the fact that you've brought back a long-neglected virtuoso piece, creating a performance of pure musical delight. 

Your body feels like it's on fire. You didn't care to fathom at all as you basked in the attention. 

Yes, be selfish, be cruel, my beloved shouldn't be lesser than I

And as you brought the audience to an explosive end, while everyone else applauded, your eyes were only trained on your wife who stands up, amongst the cheers and howls of the crowd, it was only her voice that gave you clarity. 

"Brava," She commends with distortion that no one else seems to hear. No one but you. She spoke again in another language, and this time, you understood it. 

"Omnis, surge et accipe sponsam meam et aequalem meam. Aperi portas inferi novae reginae tuae; Ji Y/N."

Everyone, arise and welcome my bride and my equal. Open the gates of Hell for your new princess; Ji Y/N.

Fin.

Thoughts? Oh and if you have requests, feel free to flood my ask box skksks

[welcomingdisaster]

years of the trees tumblr dashboard simulator

🦜filitárifinds Follow

second mingling soft mouse

🌸 drunkinalqualonde Follow

second mingling soft mouse reblog for peace and comfort always

🌧️ hailxrainxstars Follow

i can't scroll past the mingling mouse

🪻dancer_spirit Follow

guys it's literally opening hour

🦦 whatabotterit Follow

opening hour will end but mingling mouse is forever

#sighs #i suppose i must reblog #second mingling soft mouse

( 12990 notes )

🌻sweetflowersofspring Follow

spilled all the seed pods at yavanna's temple and accidentally sa-si'ed in front of my crush (who only ever uses Þ 😭) and now i come home and learn the hounds have come loose and run off to chase the wild hunt... can i just get whatever queen miriel died from it's too late for me now folks

🔥lordoflight Follow

Explain to me how and why you think it's okay to joke about that.

#idiots online #disrespect #upsetting

( 12 notes )

🌳 twotreesdaily Follow

Yet another image which fails to capture the majesty and beauty of Laurelin, yet in its imperfection reveals the grandness and completeness of that design, which none shall surpass.

#perfection #beauty #tree #merging of light and life #the valar #gold #symbol of eternal youth and the divine feminine #wow

( 299 notes )

🐾 awwooooo Follow

join the wild hunt we've got deer jerky

🐾 awwooooo Follow

also orgies

🐾 awwooooo Follow

but seriously so much deer jerky there's too much someone please take some

( 188 notes )

🪺 maidenwithoutacause Follow

normalize taking naps and being so so sleepy

🗡️fireson5 Follow

That literally kills people.

🪺 maidenwithoutacause Follow

that was ONE time

#sorry op but it's literally 100% of our mortality rate he's got a point

( 355 notes )

🦢 silversmith Follow

"nolofinwë's right" this "curufinwë's right" that ... do we ever talk about how arafinwë just fucked off to to drink cocktails on the beach in alqualondë and married the hottest elf-maiden in all of aman? icon for this

( 82 notes )

Based on your likes!

🐞 bugdaughter Follow

any girls want to go to the macalaurë feanorian orchestral and exchange kisses under the starlight....

🐞 bugdaughter Follow

perhaps tenderly grasp each other's hands

🐞 bugdaughter Follow

... unwed

#not safe for tumblr #horny posting

( 19 notes )

🕊️ justsomevanya Follow

okay wondering if i'm weird

#polls #haha is it just me

( 58 notes )

🎶freepeoplefreesong Follow

gotta be real it's sad to see cancel culture coming for melkor he's done his time let him live

🌄 smithworkirl Follow

bestie he's a war criminal

🎶freepeoplefreesong Follow

he's coming to my house party tomorrow ✌️ peace and love

#seriously tho unfollow me if you think people can't change #the light is healing and cleanses all #don't you believe in redemption

( 31 notes )

⛰️ 12elves3kings

prince turukáno house of nolofinwë. you agree. reblog.

( 67 notes )

[natalchartnurtures]

PAC: A quick and dirty guide to surviving the eclipse season~

WHY DID NOBODY WARN US ABOUT THIS

(pile 1 to 3- left to right)

~~~~~~~~~~

PILE 1:

How is the eclipse affecting you?

I immediately heard 'they don't really care about what others think anymore.' I'm getting that this eclipse really helped you step back into your authenticity in a powerful way. You might've had to revise and purge old wounds that had their roots in childhood. Any addictions of yours (if you have/had any) have been addressed because of this grand 'purging of the old and unwanted.' It's like your defense mechanisms have taken a backseat because of your inner work around the root of your addictions (maybe your addictions were part of your defense mechanisms). You might've had to live with a certain darkness looming in the background, no matter what you did in your life or where you went in life, and it seems like you've really had to look the root of this darkness in the eye. The eclipse didn't really give you an option; you simply had to. Let's talk about this darkness a little, shall we? It seems to me like you had a stark lack of a healthy masculine figure as well as a lack of a healthy feminine figure in your life. You didn't have much support as a result of this, you to felt or still sre felling disempowered in your life as a whole. THIS is what the eclipse helped you to wake up to. Through the chaos that you're experiencing right now, you'll find exactly what you need to nurture yourself (maybe for the first time ever, for some of you). I feel like you guys might end up tending to the health of your root chakra as a result of this inner work.

Your guide to getting through it like a soldier-

-Care for your anxiety. By that, I simply mean don't deny or suppress your anxiety; see where it's coming from, feel into it, and really sit in it because what you feel, you heal.

-Use EFT (emotional freedom techniques) to help yourself really sit in difficult emotions and/or anxiety.

-ALONE TIME is a need!

-Find ways to 'throw up' emotionally. Like, for example, have a hardcore dance session by yourself at 3 am to angry songs if you have been feeling angry lately. OR you could write all your emotions down onto a paper and tear that paper up and then have a big cry session. Whatever allows you to FEEL your emotions, go do it.

-After your heavy 'purge sessions,' seek things that bring you comfort. Indulge in some TLC if and when you can 😊

Some resources to help you get started-

How to Get Rid of Anxiety (A Natural Cure for Anxiety) - Teal Swan

Learn how to experience your emotions fully

Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT)

How To Open Your Root Chakra

Hope this helped! That was your reading, pile 1. Love, light, and support!

~~~~~~~~~~

PILE 2 :

How is the eclipse affecting you?

As soon as I tapped into your energy, I felt extremely light and airy, as if I turned into a cloud of cotton candy floating away into a bright blue sky. Wow, this tells me one very CLEAR thing - you've done your inner work diligently this eclipse season! You've taken the eclipse energies on actively and worked WITH it, absolutely in sync with the universe. Now all that's left for you is welcoming a brand new energy into your life.

How can you do exactly that?

-Actively schedule in things that bring you joy ✨️

-Every now and then when you feel like heavy emotions are rising to the surface, allow them to pass. Let your emotional intelligence shine, sweetheart.

-After you've felt your emotions, it's time to take care of you! TLC all the way, baby. Think long bubble baths, move slower than usual, enjoy yummy foods, wrap yourself in your favorite blankie. Drink some soul-healing soup. You get the vibe.

-Ground yourself. Listen to grounding frequencies whenever you feel like your thoughts carry you away.

-Mother yourself. By that, I simply mean - feed yourself well, allow yourself a consistent sleep cycle, find ways to make your life easier, support yourself in whatever little ways you can 😊

Some resources to help you get started-

Learn how to experience your emotions fully

How to Stop Expecting The Worst (Catastrophizing) -Teal Swan

That was your reading, dear sweet pile 2!

Hope it helped.

Love, light, and support!

~~~~~~~~~~

PILE 3 :

How is the eclipse affecting you?

You're going to have a 'real awakening' this eclipse season 😬 So, apparently, you've been going through your life blissfully unaware of your wounds and how they were blocking you from living a far better life. You operated under the impression that your life as it is right now was good just the way it is and honestly… a reflection of your full potential. But you couldn't possibly be further from the truth. It's like this eclipse was a rude awakening for you to realize just how limited of a life you were leading. Must've been a difficult thing to process? Yes? Since your old cycles have been blowing up in your face lately, you've been in a process of empowering yourself and are slowly opening up to new aspects of yourself that you previously weren't aware existed, the parts of you that are deeply emotional and intuitive. Doing this will really boost your strength and resilience in general. But there's some good news I have for you. You're on your way to feeling much more satisfied in your life, sprinkled in with great relationships all around you. It's like you're headed to a more aligned life. It's beautiful to be honest. It's obviously going to come after this intense period of awakening ripples out into a plateau though after a period of internal discomfort.

So, how can you survive this period to get to where you wanna be?

-Slow. Tf. down. Take your breaks and pace yourself. Easier said than done but pacing yourself will really help you through the chaotic energy floating around right now. Walk slower than usual, eat slower than usual, stare up at the sky and daydream when you're on a bus or something. Do romantic stuff (not necessarily with a partner, simply for yourself).

-Take some time on a regular basis to tune into your emotions. Learn how to feel again. It's really important for you right now and also doing this will greatly expedite your journey as well

-Replace some of your social time with alone time. Use it to reflect on yourself (this might feel way out of your comfort zone by the way).

-Do abundance affirmations (or all areas of life) and affirmations for forward movement.

-listen to subliminals that bring you a sense of abundance in all areas of your life.

-Find ways to feel active in your own life. Dabble in main character (MC) energy. See what it means for you.

Some resources to help you get started-

How To Feel (Learn How to Start Feeling) - Teal Swan

Learn how to experience your emotions fully

Abundance subliminal

Subliminals for positive growth and forward movement

That was your reading, dear sweet pile 3!

Hope it helped.

Love, light and support!

~~~~~~~~~~

[apomaro-mellow]

born from a stupid joke LOL, steddie being cute and fluffy ft. trans steve

He’d gotten it at a garage sale. Which was the kind of thing they both liked to do. It never failed, no matter where they were going, if they saw a sign for a yard sale, they pulled off and perused. Eddie was all for repurposing things and Steve was all for finding a good bargain.

A hardhat with a lamp light seemed like a practical purchase. Now if one of them was doing a repair, they didn’t need the other to be around and hold a flashlight.

And yes, they’d already had sex with it.

Eddie had come home one day right after Steve had finished fixing the sink. Hat still on, t-shirt wet like he’d jump right out of a porno. Eddie had swooned for his macho tool man, made a joke about pipes and they’d done it right there against the freshly fixed sink.

All in all, it was a useful tool, so Steve thought nothing of it when he saw Eddie wear it on a more lazy Saturday.

“Somethin’ broke?”, Steve asked, lounging on the couch while something was on TV.

“Nope. I’m using this for an expedition”, Eddie grinned.

Steve raised a brow. “You’re going on an expedition?” To his boyfriend that could either mean going in a dark cave that no one knew of or hitting up a new McDonald’s.

“To find that elusive treasure that confounds many a man!”, Eddie exclaimed. 

Steve sat up a little and put his chin in his hand, enraptured when the other got like this.

“There are those that say it does not exist and yet men still search for it. Well I for one shall not rest until it is within my grasp.”

“And pray tell what is this treasure you need to find?”, Steve asked.

“Can you keep a secret?”, Eddie asked in a dramatic whisper as he leaned over Steve.

Steve rolled his eyes but the smile on his face betrayed him. “Cross my heart.”

“The quarry that I am seeking, that gem that some men propose is but an illusion, is known as the clitoris.”

Steve bit his lip to keep the biggest guffaw in but Eddie was continuing.

“Will you join me on this most harrowing of endeavors?”, he implored while turning the light on the hat.

What an insanely kooky way to ask if he could eat Steve out. But what was even kookier was that it worked.

“I guess you’ll need a guide. Someone who knows the lay of the land...”

“Tally-ho!”, Eddie exclaimed as he helped Steve out of his pants.

Lord help him he was in too deep. But if Robin asked this absolutely did not work.

[rainystarters]

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪🗡ྀ࿔ 〖 and other stories . . . 〗 a collection of dialogue + action prompts inspired by angela carter's the bloody chamber and other stories. some prompts usfw. add +reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. adjust details as necessary.

dialogue :

are you sure you want to marry him?

oh! how you must want me!

soon.

i had never been vain until i met you.

anticipation is the greater part of pleasure.

all the better to see you.

what is that key? the key to your heart?

every man must have one secret, even if only one, from his wife.

all is yours, everywhere is open to you.

but now... what shall i do now?

my darling, i cannot wait for the moment when you make me yours completely.

there is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministrations of a torturer.

you are in some great distress.

any bride brought to a castle should come ready dressed in mourning.

oh god. i can smell the blood.

i thought all these were old wives' tales, chattering of fools, spooks to scare bad children into good behavior!

can't it wait until morning, my darling?

who can say what i deserve or no?

i've done nothing; but that may be sufficient reason for condemning me.

i have a place prepared for your exquisite corpse upon my display of flesh.

good fellow? i am no good fellow.

forgive me for robbing your garden!

all she wanted, in the whole world, was one white, perfect rose.

and what else was there to be done?

they are the death of any tender herbivore.

so late! you will want sleep.

you will come back to me? it will be lonely here, without you.

i will come back. soon, before the winter is over.

i am sick and i must die.

if you'll have me, i'll never leave you.

i think i might be able to manage a little breakfast today.

i have lost my pearl, my pearl beyond price.

if you are so careless of your treasure, you should expect them to be taken from you.

for all my pride, my heart is heavy.

if you wish to give me money, then i should be pleased to receive it.

i shall twist a noose out of my bed linen and hang myself with it.

you are a woman of honor.

nothing human lives here.

we have dispensed with servants.

take off my clothes for you, like a ballet girl? is that all you want of me?

all cats are cynics.

you read my thoughts, my love.

the woods enclose. the wood swallows you up.

all will fall still, all lapse.

it is easy to lose yourself in these woods.

i thought that nobody was in the wood but me.

there are some eyes can eat you.

sometimes the birds, at random, all singing, strike a chord.

eat me, drink me.

dive in and fetch it for me.

now you are at the place of annihilation.

and she is herself a cave full of echoes, she is a system of repetitions, she is a closed circuit.

can a bird sing only the song it knows or can it learn a new song?

beauty is a symptom of disorder, of soullessness.

a single kiss woke up the sleeping beauty in the wood.

be he alive or be he dead.

coffee. you must have coffee.

welcome. welcome to my chateau.

i rarely receive visitors and that's a misfortune since nothing animates me half as much as the presence of a stranger.

this place is so lonely.

now the village is deserted.

often i am so silent that i think i, too, will soon forget how to do so and nobody will ever talk any more.

i must apologize for the lack of light.

you have such a fine throat, like a column of marble.

i am condemned to solitude and dark.

i do not mean to hurt you.

i will be very gentle.

and could love free me from the shadows?

i've been waiting for you in my wedding dress, why have you delayed for so long.

you will feel no pain, my darling.

so delicate and damned, poor thing. quite damned.

the end of exile is the end of being.

it is a northern country; they have cold weather, they have cold hearts.

the devil is as real as you or i.

do not leave the path.

you are always in danger in the forest.

they are as unkind as plague.

fear and flee the wolf; for, worst of all, the wolf may be more than he seems.

besides, aren't you afraid of the wolves?

actions :

clasp. from behind, the sender places their hands over the receiver's eyes.

opera. through opera glasses, the sender watches the receiver.

choker. the sender fastens a gemstone necklace around the receiver's neck.

carriage. the sender locks the receiver in with them in their train compartment.

spine. the sender presses a kiss to the back of the receiver's bare neck.

cigar. the sender leans in and blows smoke in the receiver's face.

ermine. the sender wraps the furs around the receiver tighter as the snow falls.

keys. the sender silently enters the room and listens to the receiver play piano.

harem. the sender undresses the receiver before a collection of mirrors.

lazy. the sender brings the receiver breakfast in bed.

call. the sender calls the receiver and bursts into tears upon hearing their voice.

note. the sender discovers a love letter sent to the receiver from a previous lover.

death. the sender finds the receiver with the body of their latest victim.

hospitality. the sender watches from the shadows as the receiver take refuge from a storm in the sender's seemingly abandoned home.

servant. invisible, the sender feeds/washes/cares for the receiver.

hearth. the sender and the receiver talk past midnight by the fire's light.

hands. the sender falls to their knees before the receiver and kisses their hands.

bouquet. the sender has a hundred white roses sent to the receiver.

reunion. the sender lays eyes upon the receiver for the first time in an age.

bad luck. the sender hangs their head having lost a bet to the receiver.

voice. the sender sends their valet to speak their desires to the receiver.

powder. the sender dresses/makes up the receiver before an important night.

stallion. the sender grabs the reins of the receiver's horse and leads them away.

weep. the sender cries at the sight of the receiver in such a state.

dry. the sender brushes a tear from the receiver's cheek.

flush. the sender pinches the receiver's skin, watching it redden with blood.

prey. the sender guides the receiver's hands as together they skin a rabbit.

song. the sender sings and the receiver is spellbound, their feet following their song's command.

caught. the sender locks the receiver into a cage.

green. by the sender's command, the growth begins to take over the receiver.

tarot. the sender tells the receiver they are doomed to a sad fate.

stain. the sender touches the bloodstain on the receiver's white negligée.

wild. the sender rides hard through the night, chasing the receiver.

thirst. the sender sinks their teeth into the neck of the receiver.

china. the sender pours tea for the receiver and offers them biscuits.

blemish. the sender explores the receiver's skin and finds the mark of a witch.

wolf. the wolf reveals themself to be the sender before the receiver.

muzzle. the sender kisses the monstrous mouth of the receiver.

[ellastone-olsen]

Hi there! Can I request Agatha Harkness x virgin! reader with smut? I thought maybe Agatha and reader first time

Something super soft 🥹🥹

Stay with me - Agatha Harkness

DO NOT COPY ANY OF MY WORKS. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

Summary: The date ended in Agatha's bed. There's only one thing you didn't tell her. This is the end?

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x f!reader

Warnings: SMUT, top!Agatha, sub!reader,fluffy fluf fluf and again fluf, a lot of kisses, hurt/comfort, first time, age gap, a little dirty talk, praise kink

DISCLAIMER: ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE SORRY FOR GRAMMAR OR SPELLING MISTAKES

Word count: 1.5k

AN: Hi anon! Thanks for the request! I've been feeling sad and anxious lately so it felt really pleasantly to write something sweet like this. I hope you'll enjoy <3

You don’t remember how many dates you’ve gone on together but you already knew exactly how it would end today. Agatha sat opposite you in a stunning white suit with a revealing cutout at the chest. Usually the woman wore something more modest, but her outfit today, more frequent touching and obvious little teasing spoke for itself. The prospect of a night with her filled you with excitement, excitement and... fear. You never told her that you were a virgin, afraid of disappointing the older woman with your childish inexperience. Besides due to the age difference, you always tried to be older than your age for her.

You poured yourself another glass of red wine, which she carefully ordered to suit her taste. Dinner was coming to the end, a hand with a neat red manicure rested on your thigh. "If you're done we can go." Something dropped in your stomach. “Will you stay with me tonight?” Oh my God... Your cheeks flushed with color and you just nodded shyly and silently began to get ready. Agatha noticed that you were unusually quiet, took your chin and raised your head to look at you. “Superstar, is everything okay? If you want to go home, tell me, I’ll take you.” Her blue eyes looked at you with boundless tenderness and your heart shrink. You shook your head “No Aggie everything is fine.”

Agatha's dark purple Nissan parked in the driveway. When the front door closed behind you, Agatha’s arms wrapped around your waist, pushing you closer to her. "Hi". Your heartbeat quickened. "Hi. We were together all evening, did you forget?” She studied your face for a few seconds, her eyes shining, the woman gave you a smile before leaning down and pulling you into a gentle, slow kiss. Sometimes she treated you like you were made of porcelain. Your hands grabbed her shoulders and then slid into her mischievous dark hair. Her chest pressed against yours and the feeling was driving you crazy. Only after a minute or two did Agatha let go of you and bury her face in the crook of your neck. “Shall we go to my room?” A quiet whisper broke the moment of silence.

With slow steps, without breaking the kiss, she led you to her large plush bed. You've already been in her house, woke up with her in her arms, but it never went as far as now. You fell onto the bed and Agatha straddled your hips, kissing you over and over as she began to lightly grind you. When her mouth descended on your neck, your back arched from the feeling of her light bites and kisses, she found your erogenous zone too quickly and accurately. “Oh my God Aggie, so good..” She pulled away and looked at you with the question “Already? I haven’t started doing anything yet baby.” Your cheeks turned red and you buried your face in the pillow, avoiding looking at her.

Agatha began to add 2 and 2, analyzing your behavior throughout this evening. Holy shit..."Baby?" She tried to get your attention back. “Mmmmm?” You muttered something into the pillow. The woman gently took your face in her hands, turning you to look at her. Agatha decided not to delay and ask directly, “Are you a virgin?” While you were thinking about telling the truth or lying, the silence dragged on and she didn’t need your words to understand that the answer was affirmative. “Why didn’t you tell me? What if I hurt you?" Tears began to accumulate in the corners of your eyes, it seemed to you that she was angry at you, you thought that now she would leave.

Agatha took this as a sign that you didn’t want all this and began to get off you. Her heart sank. You stopped her by grabbing her hand. “Stay” little whines and sobs came from you. The woman sat down next to you on the edge of the bed and wiped away the tears from your face with her thumb. “I don’t understand baby, talk to me.” There was clearly concern and excitement in her tone. You took a couple of breaths. “I wanted to be old enough for you. I thought that you would leave if you found out that I’m not as experienced as you.”

Agatha sighed and took your hand. Her face moved closer to yours and small kisses peppered your cheeks. “How could you even think that? If I had been embarrassed by your age, we wouldn’t have even had one date. Please tell me everything from now on." You sat up to look into her eyes. "Aren't you upset?" "I'm only upset because you didn't tell me." You wiped the remaining tears from your cheeks and reached out to her for a hug. "Sorry Aggie."

Your lips found hers again and the older woman returned to your lap. "I'll be careful." She whispered and her deft hands began to undress you. When the upper part of your body was freed from clothes, her lips fell on your nipple, softly biting and licking the bites. Your hand slid into Agatha’s hair, pressing her closer. The feeling of her mouth on your chest made you needy and wet. You began to rub your thighs, which did not go unnoticed by the older woman. “Does my baby girl want more already?” “Mmmm yes Aggie please.” Another kiss, but more bold than before. Her tongue finds the entrance to your mouth and she begins grinding your thighs again, eliciting a series of whines and sighs from you. “Fuck...” You grab her hips to help her move. It’s Agatha’s turn to moan, “Damn baby, you’re so beautiful, I want you so bad.”

Your hands took off your jacket along with her tank top and threw it somewhere on the floor of the room. The sight of her bare breasts made your mouth water. "Can i?" Such a sweet question and your puppy dog ​​eyes drove her insane and she wordlessly pulled your head towards her. You played with her nipples, then moved to her neck, your hands found their way between her legs through the fabric of her pants, but she grabbed your wrist. "No no no, now it's about your pleasure." "But I..". You didn’t agree when she got off you and undressed you completely.

Her eyes darkened at the amount of moisture between your soft thighs. She kissed everywhere: neck, chest, stomach, thighs. You squirmed and whined under her. "Please, please touch me." She gave in and settled between your legs, softly licking and sucking your swollen clit. "OH MY GOD FUCK AGGIE." The scream that came out of your mouth was music to her ears. “So sensitive and responsive. God I won’t stop until you cum all over my face.”

Another series of licks, you are the most delicious thing she has ever tasted, she was already addicted to the feeling of your thighs around her head. “Do you want my fingers inside baby?” She stopped and bit her thigh. “Yes please, I need it so much.” You covered your face with your hands, mumbling inaudibly. Agatha rubbed her cheek against your thigh, teasingly. “Have you ever touched yourself? Did you put your fingers in that pretty pussy?” A hum of agreement came from somewhere above. “Tell me how it was? What were you thinking about when you came?” Shame consumed you all. Your hips rose towards her mouth, urging her to take action. "I won't continue until you answer."

Through shame you began to speak. “I...I thought about you that evening. I just returned home after our date...” Silence filled the room. "Continue." The woman insisted and bit your thigh. “I’ve never done anything like this before. But you were so beautiful. I couldn't resist. I did it and when I came I thought only of you.” You said it in one breath, two of Agatha’s fingers were already rubbing your entrance. The woman was very flattered by all this. “You’re a good girl Y/N. Such a good girl for me.” The tips of her fingers were in you, “Such a pretty little thing.” The praise made you clench tighter around her. “Someone likes to be praised.” Her fingers went even deeper and were completely inside. She waited for your permission before moving. Her fingertips rubbed and hit that nice spot inside you so well. “FUCK FUCK GOD YES.” You screamed as she took your clit into her mouth again. The stimulation felt so good, you raised your hips to meet hers and grabbed her hair with your hands. Your wetness dripped onto her palm, and it didn’t take two minutes for you to cum around her. “That’s it baby, so wet and tight. This is all for me." The woman prolonged your orgasm and then licked you clean. You were lying on your back, she got up and lay down next to you, pressing her lips to yours. "My good girl."

You remembered that Agatha had not cum yet and finally tried to take off her pants. “Show me how to please you.”

[the-darklings]

──𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 [𝐗𝐈.]

summary: "We begin... with a spin."

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader

wc: 16.2k+

warnings: gonna break your heart one last time, Dream is still Dream (reluctantly affectionate)

notes: all good things come to an end : )

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ: Rule the World (Odyssey Version) by Take That

1:32 ───|────── 4:55

part one | series masterlist | ao3 |

PART ELEVEN: BEYOND.

“Who are you?” 

“I am Destiny of the Endless.”

“And who am I?”

“You are the one who wanders. You will do so until the universe ceases.”

“Why?”

“Because you have been cursed to do so. Because you chose no shackles, no roots. You wished, instead, to roam free. And now you shall.”

“Why?”

“Because all is as it is meant to be, Wanderer.”

“Why?”

“Because you wished to break your destiny. And so you did.”

.

“I knew a lad called Jack Constantine once.”

Book in hand, you step around Hob, licking the dryness from your lips. Copper lingers on your tongue. “Same family.”

He perks up at your subdued comment, arms unfolding from where they rested over his chest.

“Nah, really?” He mulls it over for a moment. “Wait, that actually makes a lot of sense. He was a bit of a twat.”

Johanna sniffs. “Piss off.”

Late evening sun streams through the blinds, bathing the dark wood office in syrupy, golden-brown light. Books and notes lay scattered everywhere you look, each inch utilised fully. Johanna leans her hands on the table, squinting at the grimoire laid open. She’s been chewing on her lip for the last five minutes. That doesn’t bode well. 

“No can do,” Hob replies, hitching his shoulders with a proud smile. “I’m here on strict business.”

Dropping the grimoire Johanna requested on the table, you shoot them both a look, “Are you two done?” Your attention swivels towards the necromancer despite your trembling hands, finding her delicate features pinched. “Can you find Jed Walker?”

She huffs, her brows folding inwards. “You’re asking me to find a needle in a haystack of seven billion, give or take. I’m not a bloody witch. I don’t just cook up locator spells. I deal with demons and the dead.”

Bracing your hand on the table to mirror her, you soften your voice, “I understand what I’m asking for.”

“I’ll need time to figure this out,” she admits tightly. 

Private displeasure colours Johanna’s voice, and you nod in defeat. It’s hard to admit any shortcoming, much less one rooted in one’s power. While Johanna may be more powerful than most mortals can comprehend, it’s not power without gaps. She’s still so young. But, as with all Constantines you’ve known, there now sparks that fiery, stubborn drive, seemingly blazing from within. This is a challenge and one she’s set to overcome. 

“What about the other?” she poses abruptly, turning several pages in the grimoire. Her index finger trails over the yellowed pages, glued to another spell. “Do you have anything of theirs? You said this one has magical protection?”

“It’s conjecture,” you clarify. “But he’s been able to skirt me for over a century, so I’m left with one conclusion.”

Hob whistles under his breath. “A century? Bloody hell, you must be eager to find him.”

Memories flutter to life, birds caught in flight. A tall man with blonde hair, a dangerous smirk, and your blurred reflection dancing across his shaded glasses. Nothing more than a twisted memory that’s all fangs and blood. To file this want under ‘eager’ would be insulting. This specific longing comes with both elation and dread. Horror at what you might discover. This ignorance is no more than a flimsy illusion. You’ve spent the last century following Corinthian’s every crime, experiencing it as if he executed them on you instead. 

“I can’t promise this will work,” Johanna continues, oblivious to your internal struggle. Your attention snags on Hob, who is watching you with deep creases denting his forehead. There’s old, shrewd awareness in how he examines your rumpled appearance. “At best, I might be able to cloak you. Again, locator spells are not my speciality. At all.”

You clear your mind, pushing away from the wooden fixture. “ What if I gave up an object? It’s old, full of history. Would I be able to form a tether?

You’ve seen such spells performed—you know they’re possible and incredibly advantageous when done right. 

Johanna glares down at the grimoire for a beat, silent. Her chin lifts suddenly, her narrow-eyed stare harsh and biting. There’s digging intensity to how she inspects your appearance from head to toe, and you bristle at the probing check. 

“You look like shit,” she says bluntly. “I don’t think you should be doing any tethering to anything.”

Your teeth gnash. “Can it be done, Constantine?”

Tension barbs through the room. Hob sighs, making you even more defensive because you can instinctively tell it’s about to become two against one. “We’re not daft, you know,” he says quietly. “It’s clear you’re unwell.” 

Your eyes flutter shut. Forcing your jaw to relax, you mull over the most palatable way you can deliver this information to them. It’s clear from their wonderfully human determination that they’re not going to let this drop until they have more context. 

“Fine.” Filling your lungs with oxygen, you hold your breath, gathering yourself. How difficult it is to draw oxygen should probably concern you. “Remember how I told you I’ve been experimenting? Well, I’ve exercised a degree of control over the curse. The travelling part, at least. I can force it to take me places I want, but it… costs me. Physically.”

Johanna folds her arms over her chest, humming in consideration. “Cost, eh? How steep?”

These damn Constantines. 

The setting sun warms your cool cheek, and some invisible restraint in you loosens your invisible cast dropping. “Internal injuries. Bleeding, tissue tears, organ failure, haemorrhaging. It heals, but slowly. Excruciatingly so. If I abuse controlled travel too often, I can pass out. Slip into a temporary coma until internal damage heals. Vomiting, mobility issues, dizziness, hallucinations—take your pick.”

You’re avoiding direct eye contact, but utter silence encompasses the office when your words sink in. 

Hob gathers himself first. “Jesus Christ.”

Shrugging, you say, “It’s fine. I’m getting better at controlling it.”

“Which part of that is fine?” Hob’s voice is barbed with horror. “None of that is fine.”

You wish neither of them were looking at you like this. Rattled, aghast, alight with shades of sadness. It's so much easier to handle this when no one is standing there reminding you of the ugly aspects of this curse.

“Can it be done?” you bite out. 

Johanna wipes emotion from her face, stretching out her hand, palm up. “Show me this item.” 

Without a preamble, you hand her the roughened wooden figurine. Your stomach roils at the sight. Desperately your fingers clench and unclench in the folds of your coat, blunt nails biting into your palms. The urge to snatch back the figurine is bone-breaking. 

Johanna rolls the item in her hand, scanning it with eyes that see far beyond its material form. She’s digging deeper into what history—power—the object contains. “It might work,” she muses pensively. “I’ll cloak you, but the spell will have a time limit. The further away you are from me, the shorter the timer will be. Whoever it is won’t see you coming, but I can’t promise you the exact location.”

The grim determination bubbling in your gut answers: “Just get me as close as you can.”

.

Swirls of colours and shapes; loud, jarring noises, spinning, spinning, nails raking through the skin—

“Make it stop, make it stop—”

It doesn’t stop. There’s only colour—sound—sound—breaking—madness. And it doesn’t stop for a very long time.

.

A thousand reflections stare back at you. 

“Coward.”

“Traitor.”

“Murderer.”

“I’m not,” you gasp. “I’m not.”

Do it, do it, do it—

A rat scurries past your arm, disappearing into the hoary mist, and you flinch. 

No matter how loudly you plead for forgiveness, for relief, there’s only endless despair and glass cutting into your palms. 

.

Flower fields. Sunshine. Peace. 

A tall, pale, looming man with twin stars for eyes stands over you. 

“What does the Lord of Dreams dream about?”

No reply.

But for the first time since you’ve woken up as you: hope. 

A beautiful dream. 

.

“Who did you say you were again?”

Mighty, leathery wings block out whatever light there once was, the newcomer’s pale hair shining like a halo around their fair face. 

“I am an angel, here to save you,” a benign, soothing voice coos, followed by fingers tracing over your bloodied jawline. “If only you help me.”

“By doing what?” you slur, blood and sweat trickling down your split brow. “By spying on the Endless? On Dream?”

“Do not fear. I alone can protect you. Your purpose is to merely… observe.”

Demons hiss and growl around you, and you flex your newly healed jaw. They broke it four times in succession. So much for talking back. Scorched dirt beneath your feet stains with your congealing blood, and you chuckle. The croaking sound grows in volume until your throat bleeds. 

It’s answer enough. 

Your bones quiver under the sheer power of Morningstar’s displeasure. “Take this one away. Make sure there’s nothing left.”

The demons make good on that order. 

.

Johanna pierces the world map with a letter opener, every inch cutting in with deliberate slowness. Candles flicker, settling after the spell, and you taste the magick at the back of your throat. 

“Georgia, U-S of A,” the necromancer announces, loosening a breath.

“Great,” Hob chirps, his arm brushing against yours. “That’s just brilliant. It’s across the bloody ocean, that is.”

Johnna shoots him a venomous look. “Oh, sorry. Were you hoping for a nice trip down Brighton?”

Hob stares at her blankly in the shadowed office. He turns your way slowly as if mutely asking do you believe her?

You do. You’ve dealt with enough Constantines in your lifetime to ensure their sarcastic, surly nature is no longer a shock. 

“You’re a highly unpleasant woman,” Hob concludes, though no real malice lingers in his tone or bearing. 

“Thank you, Constantine,” you cut in before they can break into another bickering session. “There’s one more thing.”

The brunette rolls her eyes. “Is there now?”

“Magdalene’s Grimoire,” you begin deliberately. Johanna freezes. “I want you to locate it and retrieve it for me.”

Your companions speak simultaneously:

“Why?”

“You believe it has something to do with your curse, don’t you?” 

Ignoring Hob’s incredulous outcry, you nod towards Johanna. Pain twinges suddenly in your core, and your breaths slow until you get a grip on yourself. But it’s slow. Numbing pain laps at your senses for a debilitating minute until it clears once more. The curse wants to drag you in a thousand directions, but you don’t permit it. 

You right yourself again, swallowing over your dry tongue. Your temples throb insistently. 

“I think it’s old—older than people assume and has spells that no mortal should have access to.” You lean towards the map, examining the range letter opener has offered. You’ve been to Georgia several times previously, but long ago. “Roderick Burgess might have gotten lucky, but the mere fact there’s a spell there that can help capture an Endless… I find that curious. Unlike what your records indicate, he was not the first Magus, but he was the last. This means the grimoire has to be with his family—likely his son—or someone relating to them. I’ll pay you.”

Somehow. 

“Are you joking?” Johanna scoffs immediately. “One of the most powerful grimoires known to humanity? I’ll find it for free. Imagine what I could learn from it.”

Your stare glides to her unhurriedly, fixing on her fair complexion. She visibly falters at whatever she spies in your cool regard. “Within reason… and for the good of humanity. Scout's honour.”

Hob squints at her. “You’re not even American.”

“Shut… up,” she mutters, shooting him another nasty look. 

You tug your coat free when it catches on a chair, slotting your hands in your pockets. “Thank you, both of you. Is the spell active?”

“Yes, but it won’t hold long at this distance,” Johanna warns. 

Your attention latches on the wooden figurine on her desk. It’s wrong—it feels so wrong to have it out of your grasp, to feel nothing more than Dream’s pebble warming your hand. You try not to think about him now or your last conversation together. Instead, you focus on the thread woven around your heart, tugging you away and over the ocean. 

“I won’t be back for at least two weeks, but see what you can discover in that time,” you tell them. 

Hob balances on his heels, presenting Johanna with a charming grin. “Well, I guess I ought to help you.”

The sorceress scowls. “I don’t need your help.”

“Everyone needs help,” Hob counters.

Levelling them with a fond look, you wordlessly head towards the door while they verbally spar. Your hand briefly braces your chest, feeling the unsteady thud beneath your palm. You’ve been jumping too often, too far, and too rapidly for your body to recover. But just a bit more. Then you can rest. 

You’re almost at the end of a darkened hallway before an urgent voice sounds behind you, accompanied by brisk strides in your direction. 

“Wait, wait…”

You’re not even slightly surprised to hear Hob behind you or feel his fingers wrap around your bicep. Street light filtering through the window paints over his taut features, creating a pronounced tale of two sides. Light and dark. Young and older than anyone can comprehend. Quite fitting for both of you. 

“Take me with you,” Hob says, imploring edge laced beneath his lighthearted manner. It pinches your heart. “You know what they say: two immortals are better than one, eh?”

If things were less dangerous, less volatile, if it were anyone but Corinthian, you would take him up on his offer. You would love nothing more—two immortals going on an adventure. Hob has known the same horrors, similar hardships, countless failures and highs. Together you’re as effortless as breathing, as familiar as old friends meeting after years apart. You’ve felt that kinship with him from the first moment you locked eyes in that overcrowded pub, sitting there soaked and miserable. 

But this is the Corinthian. Even if Hob is the one human with nothing to fear from the nightmare, this goes much deeper. Soul deep. Perhaps deeper still. This conflict is between you, Corinthian, and Dream. It’s always been a tale of three parts, interwoven into a single, unbreakable thread. 

“Hob Gadling, you are a gem,” you say softly, placing your hand on his warm cheek. An unsure smile forms across his mouth. “And maybe one day I will. But this… this is something I must do alone.”

“You don’t, though. You realise that, right?” Hob argues softly, fiercely. “There are people who care about you.”

You think about the Dreaming and its occupants, all the mortals and other beings you’ve encountered in your many travels. Friends and companions who have told you to visit, stay, there is always a place for you here even when they knew you could do no such thing without putting them at risk. You think about the Endless—your becoming and undoing.

Your hand slips away from him, your faint smile hollow. “I do. Two weeks.”

.

The Endless are formidable individually. The raw power holding this universe together, given form and reason. Their realms are kingdoms that put others to shame. You’ve visited plenty by now to draw the unsurprising conclusion. Dealing with each sibling is an exercise in patience, tact, and subtle respect in differing shades. 

Sitting in the same room as seven of them makes you want to crawl out of your skin and run for the hills. You’ve met them individually in the past. There’ve been a handful of occasions where you encountered several simultaneously. But never all together in the same room like this. 

They’re terrible and wonderful and so suffocating in their casual existence that every instinct in your mortal body warns you of one indisputable truth:

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Death shakes her head promptly, giving you a stern glance. “Nonsense, sweetheart,” she asserts. “You’re right where you belong. Isn’t that right, Destiny?”

Destiny of the Endless sits unmoving, only his mouth visible behind his flowing, beige hood. His hand rests on the Book of Destiny, pale but relaxed. Whenever Destiny does move, the chain connecting him to the book rattles through your bones. 

He hosts these family gatherings, though all Endless have equal prominence in this universe and its continuous function. Despite it, from your angle, it appears as if he’s the one at the head of the table. Oldest and certainly the most overwhelming in his sheer aura. It took him a simple swipe of his hand for an additional chair to materialise at the table for you. For his fluttering, eerily silent attendants to lay a plate and glass on either side of you. 

“All is as it should be, sister,” Destiny replies, his voice whistling wind through dry leaves. 

Your pulse beats against the curve of your throat. If your stomach weren’t already empty, you would likely be throwing up right now. 

Death grins brightly, pleased. Her smile is no doubt meant to be reassuring when she angles back towards you. “See, that’s a yes.”

Your words form clumsily on your tongue, “I didn’t mean to impose—”

Sitting on your left, Delirium tightens her grip on you, cutting your words short. Her chair had been dragged towards yours, your arms linked despite the uncomfortable angle. The scent of leather, sweat, and burnt sugar bites into your nostrils. Today, her hair keeps flickering between bright orange, yellow, and neon green. 

“Uhm… impose?” she mutters. Her words flow so swiftly that it’s an effort to keep up. “No, no, imposing to be imposed on, and, um, imposing is impolite. What is impolite?”

“To impose would be impolite, yes.” Your words come out measured. “Like that man. You went into his home.”

“Well, he, well, he wasn’t a very good man.” Delirium’s voice thins, frustration biting into each syllable. On your other side, you sense Destruction turning in your direction. Tension blinks out from Delirium’s lovely features, her different-coloured eyes shining in the dimly lit room. “I made him see colours. Really pretty, pretty colours.”

Yes, she certainly did. You’re hopeful the man received a swift death via villagers, others having no doubt concluded him mad or consorting with devils and demons. As if to illustrate her point, Delirium lightly positions her thumb and index fingers together, forming an O. She giggles, blowing air, and much to your unspoken wonder, multicoloured bubbles float through the air. Some remain bubbles, bloated and bobbing. Others shape into animals and birds. 

“I am not an Endless,” you remind, feeling foolish for doing so. As if anyone could mistake you for one of them. Your eyes briefly skim over each sibling, shifting in your seat for the dozenth time. “I don’t think it’s right for me to be here.”

Despair, sitting opposite to you beside her twin, hoods her eyes. The metal hook on her finger digs into her chin. Blood bubbles beneath the honed metal. “Yes. Mortal.”

Her whispering, thin voice blankets you, and your insides ball up. 

Destruction chuckles on your right, deep and echoing in the dining hall, smoothing over your suddenly chilled, clammy skin. “Sister, do you meet many mortals who live over three hundred years? I see no harm in you being here, dear Wanderer.”

Desire stretches indolently in their seat, candlelight washing over their indescribable features. Scoff ripples from their chest, their chin dropping in their open palm. 

“Right, is anyone else opposed to Wanderer being here?” Desire voices, sweeping a challenging look around the table. When no one speaks, Desire shrugs, arms open at their sides. “See, sweet thing, relax. Have some fruit.”

They pointedly push the fruit basket closer towards you. The fruit does look tasty, and you hadn’t eaten in two days, but don't think you can stomach it right now. 

Dream casts an inpatient glance Destiny’s way. In extravagant robes, Dream Lord appears the most disgruntled with being summoned. “Why are we here, Destiny? You do not call upon the family without a cause.”

Destiny’s answer comes predictably vague: “You are here, brother Dream. That is all.”

Despite your unease to be dropped into their family meeting, annoyance pinpricks you at his words. Always the same ambiguity, always what the book dictates, and never what someone might feel. Destiny is not human. It would be unfair for you to hold any of the Endless to mortal standards. For you to expect them to comprehend sentiments that are so far out of their reach. 

It doesn’t take away from the sting, though. At least this time, the curse was mindful enough to drop you inside Destiny’s stronghold inside the Garden of Forking Ways. Last time, you found yourself helplessly lost inside the boundless maze for weeks. Destiny did nothing to aid you—it was as it was meant to be. You associate him most closely with that wild animal fear and sheer helplessness. You can’t help it. 

“Why the rush?” Desire calls out, interrupting your thoughts. “Eager to get back to another failed relationship, sweet Dream?”

Shadows coil around Dream Lord’s feet, seated between Delirium and Death. You silently question if it’s a purposeful partition. 

“That’s enough from you, sibling,” Dream warns. 

Desire’s lovely mouth spreads into a quick, beaming smile; all teeth bared and tawny eyes aglow with sadistic amusement. A predator having scented blood. “Oh, come on now,” they coo. “We all come here to talk as a family; even lovely Wanderer is present. Yet you think yourself above everything. Your realm, your rules—we’ve heard it all before! You’re oh so dull.”

Despair slumps beside her twin, face downcast. “Dull. Yes, rather dull indeed.”

“And are you perhaps bored, my sibling?” Dream returns, a slight pinch to his imperious features. His voice remains perfectly aloof. From this outsider’s perspective, it’s easy to see why Desire views Dream as supercilious. “Did you run out of adequate ways to amuse yourself?”

Momentarily swallowing down your fear, you slant your head over to one side, “Dream.”

Dream pauses at your drawn, anxious expression. The ignited stars dim, draining away, but the hard slant of his broad shoulders doesn’t drop. 

“Oh, don’t run to his defence.” Desire’s voice is just edging on goading. Their nails tap on the wooden table when they cross their legs, leaning towards you. “This is quite characteristic. Surely you find him just as insufferable as the rest of us?”

Death’s retort is whip-sharp. “Desire. Shut up.”

Others around the table appear calmly accepting. They’ve seen this fight play out in the past a thousand times. While you’ve never demanded reasons for the bad blood between the two Endless, it’s clear it runs deep, a problem stemming from innumerable centuries long since past. And very clearly not a situation for you to get involved in. You’re not naive or arrogant enough to assume you can fix their problems for them. Neither Desire nor Dream seems particularly invested in settling anything, either. 

But inciting like this is dangerous. Desire has never attempted to spark arguments involving you in the past, no matter how spiteful the mood. 

As if mentally arriving at the same conclusion, Destruction’s rumbling words vocalise your unspoken plea: “Do not involve Wanderer in your quarrel, sibling.”

Delirium curls into herself, her legs raised on the chair and pressing into her chest. Her hold on your arm turns near painful. “Arguing, fights, it's not nice, but it… um… that’s not where Desire is supposed to be. It’s um… it’s somewhere else. It’s in Dreams.”

You’re not sure how to decode Delirium’s words. You once believed them to be mindless babbles. Then some phrases would come back to haunt you months or even years later. Whatever caused the turn in Delirium from Delight gave her foresight no other Endless seemed to possess. Save, perhaps, Destiny. 

Desire’s fingers curl beneath their pointed chin. Desire surveys you, then his older brother, with a feline's slowness. “Well, well. Aren’t you two sweet on each other?”

This time, the darkness curling beneath Dream’s chair becomes physical. Visible even to your mortal eye. 

“Cease your poisonous stipulations,” Dream says icily. 

Desire scoffs, dropping back in their seat with a graceful, seductive stretch. Heat encompasses your being, pouring in the crevices of your skin. Desire’s effect is all but impossible to escape this close. 

“Is it not my function, oh dear brother of mine, to sow desire in the hearts of all living things, mortal and otherwise? What are they without their desires?” The Endless straightens just as swiftly, their elbows digging back into the table while they eye you, chin back in their hands. Something cruel and fragmented, endlessly amused, slides through those golden irises—an intent you’ve never seen Desire direct your way until now. “Come, my sweet, doesn’t it get dreary? All those mortals set on your suffering? Surely you have missed the sweet, loving embrace of Desire? I could make you desire anything… even a kiss.”

And then…

The world melts away, and everything once making up your being bows and folds under the power pressing into you. You’re but a child. You are atoms. And you’ve forgotten how terrible their power could be once unleashed. 

There’s only cocoon and darkness and golden, glowing eyes beckoning you, warming you, bewitching you. Your limbs are too far away to control, your will dulled into thin, worn paper—brittle to the touch. Your skin is too hot, and the air in your lungs is insufficient. It feels so good. So good, so good—

Even a kiss, even a kiss, even a kiss—

Your limbs are on strings, tugged in one direction, then another. Distantly, horror chokes you, and you scratch at the walls inside your mind, clawing for some semblance of control, but there’s only a sultry embrace of desire. 

“Desire, no—”

“Stop—”

“Enough.” Something inside your chest trembles at that single word’s sheer, unbridled power. Your numbed senses are clear but not enough to free you. You're trapped, caught on the verge of awareness. “You dare.”

“Now, now, dear Dream. Did I get under your skin? It’s but jest. Lighten up.”

Few stars emerge in your blackened vision, guiding you closer. They urge you forward to safety, but you’re unable to move. It feels good to be here, so good and hot. There’s no pain, only desire and pleasure—

“We do not control mortals, sister-brother. Their will is their own. Release Wanderer.”

Destiny’s tepid command shreds through the heated, desire-filled veil. You return to yourself with a choked gasp, snapping into your tiny mortal body with a painful lurch. It’s overwhelming. Every sense was smothered to such a degree, it’s as if everything is twice as heightened now. 

“Are you insane?” Death snaps. You’ve never heard her this angry until now. There’s always a smile on her face and a playful gleam in her eyes. But you’re too busy shaking to be afraid. “What was that, huh?”

Your hands convulse. Bloody indents line your palms. Your nails must have cut into your skin hard enough to draw blood. You fought. But what can a mortal do when faced with an Endless? You were erased, folded down to nothing. You are nothing. 

Voices melt into one. You’re too shaken to separate them. When some semblance of awareness settles in, you realise how awful these… seconds, minutes, or hours have truly been. 

You’re half straddling Destruction, arms half wrapped around his broad shoulders, your mouth near his neck. Horror liquefies your limbs, rooting you in your spot. Too much—it’s too much. Humiliation leaves you immobile, but Destruction rests his hand between your shoulder blades, his gaze kind and concerned beneath his bunched eyebrows.  

“Are you well?” he asks quietly over the clamour behind you.

Your chin wobbles. Shame lashes your skin. You’ve been used as no more than a puppet to be thrown at him. On him. Like some mindless whore. A witless worshipper, begging for their chosen god’s favour, not understanding what they’re inviting. How the gods are never kind. How they only use and break for their amusement. 

Even though Destruction doesn’t appear angry, you can’t stop yourself from croaking out, “I… I… I’m sorry.”

His sympathetic frown is visible even beneath his thick beard. He cradles you to him but with gentleness indicating how fragile he believes you to be at this moment. “Do not fret. It is quite alright, my friend.”

“Can you…?”

Your words splinter. The burn behind your eyes turns painfully prickly. Destruction’s handsome face creases further. He nods mutely, carefully manoeuvring your body to a standing position. His large hand presses between your shoulder blades, steading and hot through your thin robes. His fingers fold slightly, protectively. Your gratitude for his unprompted support is immeasurable. An anchor while your knees shake.

“It was a joke,” Desire calls out over his siblings. “Desire is who I am. It’s all in good fun. Isn’t that right, sweet thing?”

Your shoulders spasm, your back still to them. Your insides churn at the prompt, and you’re unsure if you’re about to be sick, cry, or some horrific mix of both. 

You thought… you were foolish enough to assume… 

How many times have you landed in the Threshold, thrilled to see Desire? How often have you shared jokes, laughs, and peaceful evenings and mornings in the twilight land? What other touch or embrace have you known over three centuries that didn’t end in agony but Desire’s? You’ve told them numerous times you have no preference for any sibling in their family—that you cherish Desire’s company as much as others, perhaps even more so. Because with Desire, you could remember what it’s like to be human—to want and need. 

You had foolishly believed you were friends. 

Now you see the truth. You feel the horrible, numbing heat licking across your flesh—the aftermath of this ultimate betrayal. Desire’s power shimmers on the outskirts of your mind, ready to devour you anew. Rob you of reason and choice. 

“I—you… I trusted you.” Everyone falls silent at your frayed words, scraping through the eerily quiet dining hall. When you rotate clumsily towards them, you look only at Desire. You avoid others. Your humiliation burns too brightly for anything else. “You… just made me feel like nothing. You degraded me. I’m no more than a thing for you to play with.”

Some foreign emotion spasms briefly through Desire’s face—gone in a blink. Their answering smile is so patronising a deeper crack splinters your chest. “Wanderer. Be a good sport. It was simply a bit of fun.”

A bit of fun. 

Desire can be fickle, and it can be cruel. But you’ve forgotten just how cruel they could be. To Desire, this is no more than a practical joke. You’re only a silly mortal. No wonder you don’t get the joke. You’ll get over yourself soon enough. But no one else is laughing or smiling, either. Even Despair in your peripheral remains hunched and mute, typically first to her twin’s defence. 

“Fun.” 

The word shatters something between you the second you voice it. You can see it on Desire’s face. The realisation settling in. There is no regret, no apology. Nor will there ever be. It’s clear from the dismissive curl of Desire’s mouth. They don’t see anything wrong with what just transpired. 

It makes it worse. So much worse. 

“Wanderer, brother Destruction. Sit.”

Destiny’s perfectly poised voice shreds whatever little composure you’ve been clinging onto. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” The accusation rips through the room like wildfire. You shake off Destructions comforting touch, your lungs filling with air and spilling out fire. “You knew Desire was going to do that. That’s the only reason why you permitted me to stay. Do I not suffer every day? Or do you enjoy making me into your little plaything? Have I not been humiliated enough for your amusement?”

Destiny says nothing. 

You shove away from the table with disgust. Your feet tangle before you command your sluggish limbs. Death rise after you immediately.

“Wanderer—”

You flinch away from her extended hand, from all of them. You don’t care what invisible line you may be overstepping. “Don’t touch me,” you spit out. “I never should have stayed.”

Your feet carry you several paces until another, more resounding voice calls, “Wanderer.”

A part of you doesn’t understand why you pause or look back. Dream’s gaze sears into you. Yet you can’t untangle a single thing you see burrowed there. He’s standing as well, his hand flat on the table. Foolishly, you hope he will come after you, say something in defence of you. But Dream is Dream. He’s likely just as clueless about why you took this so badly as others. Perhaps the fury you see glimmering in those starlit eyes is but your imagination. Another pretty lie your sentimental, human heart would be all too happy to convince yourself of. 

He doesn’t move. You pivot away, your shoulders hunching. 

Desire’s chuckle licks at your back, silky and smooth. “So tense, that one. It was only a bit of fun.” 

No one laughs. No one responds. 

Only a bit of fun.

“Take me away, take me away from here,” you sob, stumbling into a shadowed hallway.

For once, the curse listens. 

.

Rivulets of sweat drip down your back. The puddle of blood at your feet is starting to go dark. These observations float from somewhere beyond the dense fog shrouding your mind. It’s so difficult to focus. Wiping across your sweaty forehead, you lean on your arm, breathing deeply. You’ve forgotten how suffocating the humidity could be here in Georgia. 

Mercifully only heat-blurred fields surround you. The vast, open stretch of highway is all you see on either side.

Lights dance in your vision, your ears ringing. Maybe it’s the curse and not the heat. Your limbs obey no command, barely held together by sheer stubborn will to follow the tether pulsing in your chest. The spell’s power is already dimming. You have no choice but to jump. This is your only chance to get to Corinthian first. 

“Come on… come on… I don’t obey you.” Your nails scrape on the heated metal, your head hanging low. “You obey me.”

Your tongue rolls the words clumsily. No matter how much you swallow, more saliva floods your mouth, causing your stomach to cramp. Your knees beg to fold beneath you. Lay down in this tall grass and wait for the inevitable that will never arrive. It’s foolish. Death is far from the worst thing that can befall an individual. It was the very first lesson you learned. 

Digging deeper, you claw and yank on the curse’s power, squeezing it until the bleed becomes physical. Until your limbs rip from one place to another. 

When you settle back into your body, skin stinging, your knees hit the ground immediately. Blood dribbles past your lips, your sweat-covered forehead pressing into the soft dirt. You pant loudly, blood trickling past your cracked lips. Pain is coming from everywhere. Sounds mangle into each other when you attempt to raise your head. Your stomach protests viciously, leaving you dry heaving. Nothing but more blood escapes your body. 

A hotel sign. It’s the first thing you register. You’ve landed near one, practically on it. Your fingernails dig into the dirt as you stumble into a standing position. The tether Johanna’s spell has threaded pulses harder and faster in your chest. There. Corinthian has to be there. 

Cradling your sore midsection, you painstakingly make your way towards the hotel. Relentless heat melts your already nonexistent strength reserves down to nothing. 

Several people glance in your direction when you push through the reception door. In this climate, your attire certainly raises eyebrows, but you remind yourself there’s no way Corinthian can know you’re here this time.

“Can I help you?”

You stumble to a stop, breathing heavily. A man with a tiny hat and a nametag reading Fun Land sits behind a table, his annoyance palpable while he stares at you expectedly. It takes considerable effort to gather the strength required to speak. 

“No.”

You turn to go. 

“Hey, woah! This is a convention-only area. Can’t you read?”

Following the direction the man is gesturing wildly towards, you find a board reading Cereal Convention printed in large, bold letters. The rest blurs, sweat stinging your eyes. You work your jaw. 

“No,” you repeat.

The man’s petulant glare would be comical if you were in a better mood. 

“You can’t go here,” he declares stiffly. 

Your fingers curl weakly, convulsing at your sides. You didn’t come this far to be precluded from finding Corinthian by a goddamn sign. By a cereal convention. Cereal convention. Cereal. At the back of your foggy mind, something nags at you. 

Your brows dip inwards, your gaze slipping towards the man. His bravado stutters, washing away from him. He shrinks backwards the longer you stare at him, his throat working on a gulp. Your lips compress into a stiffer line. Someone brushes behind you, stepping up to the table. Fun Land exhales in audible relief, serving them, pretending he’s too busy to pay you further notice. 

Fine. You’ll find another way. 

Stalking outside, you keep to the shade, leaning into the wall for support. It doesn’t take long to track down the delivery entrance. Every hotel has one, and depending on the time of day, they’re not the best protected. Like right now, in the afternoon, after housekeeping has gone home, leaving only a handful of staff on standby.  

He’s in here somewhere. The hotel corridors melt together. Beige walls and stale, humid air. They warp, smearing together into nothing but sensation. You’re a rat caught inside yet another maze. Sickness churns inside your stomach. 

And then, impossibly, you see him. 

A pale head of golden hair illuminated by washed-out light, his back to you while he strolls ahead and away from you. 

“Corinthian.”

The raspy exhale ricochets. The nightmare stops dead in his tracks. Until this precise second, he wasn’t there, wasn’t real, but with his name, the nightmare becomes a reality. Corridor may separate you, but the spell winks out, confirming your suspicion. 

Aircon buzzes through the long, otherwise vacant corridor. Your heart thunders in your ears. 

Then, Corinthian speaks: “You shouldn’t be here.”

A sob wells in your chest at his drawling, smooth words. Nearly two hundred years you haven’t seen him. Over a century seeking him out, having to live with the ramifications of atrocities he’s been inflicting. And now, here, it’s just you and him. You’re not sure which sensation pulses in you stronger: anger or relief. 

Your mouth quivers, your tongue dragging across your dry, cracked lips. “I searched for you.”

“I know you did,” he replies listlessly, his back still facing you. It hurts, because you were right. He’s been knowingly avoiding you. As if reading your mind, Corinthian raises his hand, and your stomach shrivels when you spot your ring firm on his finger. “I have this to thank you for, but it would seem you found me out anyway. Shame.”

The ring. Of course. 

A small piece of humanity for you to hold. I told you, they’re not all bad. I hope this can help you experience it.

And experience it he did. An essential part of yourself put away in that ring must have given him a sense of your presence nearby. He used your own present against you. 

The Corinthian finally turns to face you, all but unchanged except for his modern hairstyle and refined round shades. You want to say so many things to him that your tongue refuses to work altogether. A great chasm yawns between you, and you have no idea how to bridge it.

“What are you doing?” you ask at last. 

There’s no smirk or sly grin in sight. He’s as closed off as you. Despite his seeming indifference, you read the subtle tension lining Corinthian’s broad shoulders. He can hide from others, trick and lie to them if he pleases, but never you. 

“What I was made to do,” he replies tightly. 

“No. You’re hurting them.”

Corinthian’s jaw locks. “He made me in your image, Wanderer. Now I’m making the world in mine. I thought you’d be proud.”

A disbelieving scoff rips from your chest, burning your windpipe as if acid washed down it. “Proud?” you parrot. “You’re killing them.”

Your harsh condemnation dissolves whatever neutrality remains in the space between you. Prior uncertainty dashes beneath a strain of a century dripping in the blood of innocents. 

“Did they do less to you?” Corinthian’s voice is all nightmare; honeyed, cruel, and seductive. His head tilts playfully to one side. “How often did they torture you? Shun you? Sought to eradicate you? Still you defend them as you did him.”

Your sight muddies, and it takes a shake of your head to clear it. “You can’t punish all for crimes of a few.”

A snarl twists Corinthian’s mouth, his feet carrying him towards you in a measured, prowling stalk. 

“A few? They’re all the same: greedy, selfish, and cruel. The curse reveals. I reflect. They don’t change; they only learn how to hide better.” He pauses, licking his lips as he considers you. Something seems to occur to him, a faint laugh vibrating from his chest. “Do you have any idea how many times I stopped them? Punished them for hurting you? New Orleans in ‘31. Berlin in ‘43. Vienna in ‘55. Seoul in ‘62. Moscow in ‘71. Bangkok in ‘89. New York in ‘00. Why those were all me and then some. I was there. I’ve always been there.”

Each date punctures through you like a stray bullet. Honed and whetted for the single purpose of hurting you in a different sense. A fragmented nightmare. You’ve chased a mirage while the nightmare has spent a century mirroring your steps, keeping you safe from the shadows whenever your paths crossed unbeknownst to you. 

There’ve been times—

You thought you’d caught glimpses of him in decades-long since lost. But unfailingly, you’ve only ever found empty alleyways when you pursued these figments. Eventually, you stopped chasing these mirages. The pain was too great. But it’s never been just your overreactive imagination, has it? He was real. He was there. 

He’s spent a century killing indiscriminately while also keeping you safe. You want to scream at him for the evil he’s committed and cry from sheer relief he hasn’t forgotten you. 

“Then why hide?” you croak, stumbling closer. “Why not speak with me?”

“Oh, come now.” Corinthian clicks his tongue. He turns away, nostrils flaring, then turns to face you again. “You know why. You would have asked me to come back, and for you, I would have.”

His features blur, your words barely audible, “And would that have been so terrible?”

“Come back to what? Dream’s ball and chain?” Acidic words, despite their softness. His rage deflates instantly, a huffing laugh escaping him as if he’s surprised himself with the lapse. “You think he gives a fuck about either of us? He threw you out. You left.”

Indignation flares in your chest. “Not by choice.”

“Then you should have taken me with you. But you left me. All you ever do is play by Dream’s rules. I figured out how to leave the Dreaming back during Dreamfall, but I stayed. Wonder why.”

You have no response to that. You’re left standing there, gaping. For you. Who else? He had no one else there; no other reason to stay other than your presence. 

“So that’s it,” you begin shakily, your words rasping, sniffling. “All this because you believe I chose Dream and his rules over you?”

“What did you do to yourself?”

Corinthian’s voice has gone dreadfully quiet. Fiercely unhappy. Too late, you realise you’re sniffling because blood is dripping from your nose. Clumsily, you swipe the back of your hand over your chin. Crevices in your skin crack with dried blood. 

“It was never a choice, don’t you get it?” you whisper, your words pouring out thick and wet with emotion. “It’s always been you. Always. I was terrified the journey would destroy you. Had I known, I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat.”

Corinthian closes the remaining distance between you, grasping you by the forearms. It’s such a relief to have him near again. You sag into him, trembling. You try to raise your hand to wipe beneath your nose, but your limbs are too stiff to obey. 

“What did you do, Wanderer?” He sounds furious while he examines you, as if only now realising the extent of your deterioration. “What did you do yourself?”

“I had to get to you first,” you tell him. Blood smudges the lapels of his jacket where you grasp it. “Please, you have to stop. They don’t deserve this, Cori.”

He looks disgusted at your words, but your legs fail you before he responds. Corinthian catches you before your knees hit the carpeted ground.

“It hurts.” His words come out hissing, sharp with incredulity. “Why does it hurt?”

Your chin jolts upwards, your bloodstained smile trembling around the edges. “You know why. I’m inside of you. You can’t escape that.”

Neither of you can. You’ll carry him in you until your bitter end, as he will carry you until his. 

“Shh. I got you.” Corinthian tucks you into him when a whimper of pain escapes you. His hand cradles the back of your head. “I’m going to set us both free.”

And then, through horror, darkness closes in. 

.

Motion. 

“Who is that?”

A woman’s voice. Unfamiliar. 

“Oh, yes. This one is with me. Won’t you be a good girl and share that tidbit with others, so we don’t have any… complications. I appreciate it.”

“But I thought—”

Arms tighten around you possessively—the air coils, suffused with thick tension. 

“Good Doctor. No one touches this one. Or they'll have to deal with me. Personally.” 

Footsteps retreat near instantly, the atmosphere lightening in the absence. You’re resting on something velvety. You have no idea where you are, but you know you’re safe. 

“Cori…”

“Shh, I’ll be back before you know it.” Cold glass touches your lips. When your lips part, soothing water slips into your awaiting mouth. After several mouthfuls, the glass disappears. A cool hand traces your face. “Things will be different real soon, you’ll see.”

You reach blindly, seeking. “Don’t go.”

“Oh, don’t worry. After I’m done, we’ll have a Dreaming of our own.”

Then nothing. 

.

Anchor around your ankle. Plunging, bitter cold water, pressure, pressure, a hand reaching uselessly towards the shrinking light above, then nothing—

.

Ropes bite into your wrists, the pyre is tall, and the crowd jeers with open delight. They throw things at you; some hit, some miss. You don’t know if you hate them or pity them. Both, neither. Sahsin’s face is disgusted, filled with hate. She has positioned herself in front of the throbbing mob. When the fire comes, Sahsin enjoys it. When the fire comes, the agony devours all else—

.

Blank page. 

Blank page.

Blank page.

And beneath, a faint, pulsing power of Endless Destruction. 

“My lord.”

Urgent footsteps head in his direction. Morpheus raises his head, his grip on the tome in his hands white-knuckled.

Loyal Lucienne and a rather familiar figure a step behind her. 

“I apologise for leaving, Lord,” Fiddler’s Green begins, flustered but entreating. “But you must help. He’s killing them.”

.

You awake with a pained gasp. Your head swims, your fingers clumsily seeking purchase. 

An eerily silent hotel room greets you when your hiccuping gasps assuage into a steadier rhythm.  Corinthian is nowhere in sight. You wrench yourself from beneath the comfortable covers, stumbling. You grab your carelessly thrown coat on your way out, shrugging on the familiar weight. At least your vision is clearer than earlier. Pain remains undiminished by your fretful rest. 

The hotel is unnaturally quiet—your nerves prickle. Nothing good ever comes from places where there should be life, being devoid of it. Unease pools in your stomach while you stumble through winding corridors. Where did everyone go?

Outside, twilight has settled over the landscape. Your pace increases, your palms dragging across the walls to keep moving.

You find the reception empty, the convention table barren. Except…

“—a black mirror, made to reflect everything about itself that humanity will not confront. But look at you—”

Your body turns to stone mid-step. There’s no confusing that voice with anyone—the absolute power infused into every deliberate, low syllable. 

With a start, you realise your knees have bent, your coat pooling around your ankles. You’re scared. Dream wasn’t supposed to be here. Not when you’re not there to mediate. Clawing at the walls, you force your legs forward. Your bones quake in protest with each step. 

Shoving into the conference room, you find the room full. Hotel patrons sit in neat rows, their heads bowed and eyes closed. 

Dream of the Endless and the nightmare make for a lonely, contrasting sight on the stage: dark and light. 

Corinthian’s small smile is scornful. “I’m not the problem, Dream.”

“You’re right,” Dream Lord concurs quietly. “This is my fault, not yours. I had so much hope for you, but I created you poorly then. So I must uncreate you now.”

Dream’s arm lifts in the air between them. You lurch forward, stumbling up the stairs.

“No!”

You let out a dry sob, pushing past Dream to get to the nightmare. The contours of Corinthian’s face have begun dissolving, singed red at the edges, disappearing back into the sand he was fashioned from. 

Corinthian chokes out a breath, grinning widely, grasping your hand. “Hey, trouble—”

His hand in yours crumbles. A wounded, animalistic sound rips from you. There’s a futile, blind attempt to grasp onto his body as it slips between your fingers. Through your arms, and then out of your life. 

“No! No, no.”

Your knees hit the stage so hard the sound is a thunderclap through the hushed room. Sand lays in a golden pile at your feet. A tiny skull containing teeth for eyes is all that remains and—

Your ring. Corinthian’s faint warmth still lingers on the metal. Wet dots fall into the sand. Only then do you register the tears dripping down your face. Followed by speckles of blood. It seems appropriate that, in the end, he should have your blood also. 

Featherlight touch on your shoulder only registers after Dream’s voice floats through your agony: “Wanderer. I am sorry.”

Perhaps under different circumstances, you would have examined this moment closer—Dream Lord, an Endless, on his knees beside you, his voice impossibly soft. Instead, you want to disappear. 

“I know,” you sob, shaking, half leaning towards the ground. If it weren’t for Dream’s grip on you, there’s no doubt in your mind you would collapse right where Corinthian has. Something mangles inside you, far beyond physical. “I know you had to stop him. I… to me… he… to me he’s…”

Everything. 

Dragging your hands desperately through the slippery grains, you gather them in a smaller circle. 

“What are you doing?” 

Dream’s question is uncharacteristically gentle. There’s deeper awareness that a wrong question could shatter you completely. 

Past your raw vocal cords, you only manage: “I—I can’t leave him. I can’t leave him again.”

You’re not sure if you’re coherent enough for him to understand. Each word borders on a pained howl. Black is rapidly devouring your fading vision. Too much. It’s too much. You’re about to explode. Collapse like the nightmare did, utterly undone. 

Several scarlet drops drip into the sand, and Dream sucks in a deep breath beside you, his grip on you tightening. 

“You’re bleeding.”

He doesn’t get a response. Blackness devours you whole. 

.

Recovery takes three weeks. You’re unconscious for the first two. Another week crawls by until you can move again. 

The simple fact that it takes you so long to become functional only confirms that Dream brought back a broken soul into the Dreaming. You’ve survived limbs being severed. Past incidents where your skin was peeled off. But this goes beyond skin deep. 

You haven’t travelled since the incident. The mere thought induces a fresh dose of cramping terror through your system. The curse, wounded and worn, has retreated. Dormant. For now. 

“You mourn him.”

You jump in your spot. Your fingers close protectively over the ring in your hand. Dream steps into your line of sight, his coat fluttering around his lithe figure. His face is slanted away from you, observing the waterfront. You try to hide your surprise at seeing him. 

He’s been… distant these last three weeks. Not cold, but…

Sad. 

There’s no other way to delineate the forlorn stares that seem to follow you. 

“I’m not an idiot. What Corinthian was doing was horrific,” you say dully, tugging on stray blades of grass. 

Fiddler’s Green has returned, taking his post once more. It should make you happy. He apologised personally for his departure, but you understood his reasonings for leaving. Without his creator, Fiddler’s Green wanted to experience what it was like to be human. What right do you have to judge him for such a wish? Yet memory is a cruel mistress—the recollections of the one whose absence is so torturously felt are everywhere. 

“He took lives that were never his to take,” you continue. Anger bites into controlled syllables. “Not to mention his plan to have Rose become the new heart of the Dreaming. Did he realise the universe would have collapsed in on itself? He had to be stopped.”

It was what had awoken you back at the hotel. It’s only later that you learned the extent of Corinthian’s plan. Rose Walker was the vortex. Given enough time, she would have become the centre of the Dreaming, drawing dreams and nightmares to her. And collapsed this universe as a result. Dream would have killed her—it’s the only time the Endless are permitted to take mortal life, if they’re an active threat—but Rose’s grandmother had stepped in last second. A woman who should have been the vortex if it hadn’t been for Dream’s capture. If the sleeping sickness that swept through the waking world had not robbed her of life. 

“But you mourn him still.”

Unequivocal insistence. Your composed mask cracks around the edges. Lying would be pointless. 

“Of course I do,” you exhale, pained. 

Dream’s fingers curl at his side, but he doesn’t look your way. “This was my oversight, Wanderer. Do not bear the guilt for those lost.”

Trees ripple and shiver in the faint breeze. Waterfall roars to your left, while to your right, the dark shores of the Dreaming reflect sunshine like the darkest obsidian. You consider the Dream Lord while he watches the beach with a stony expression. Utterly closed off—same old Dream. 

Deflating, you struggle back onto your feet. 

“Their blood is on my hands, too,” you say, turning to go.

Guilt will follow you no matter what he maintains. 

“Are you departing once more?” he calls out, halting you in your tracks. He’s scrutinising you when you peek his way. “You are not fit for travel.”

Offering a throwaway smile, you shrug. “I’m a rubber ball. I bounce back quickly.”

“Stay until Dreamfall if the curse permits it.” Dream pauses after his brisk request, catching himself with a swallow. Awkwardness permeates the air. “It would mean a great deal to others if you celebrated with them.”

You loosen a reluctant breath, squinting at him. “Do you want me to stay?”

Something shifts between you at the forthright prompt; tightening, warming. Surprise collects in your chest at the fact you dared to ask. But you’re tired of feigning, acting as if you’re both not caught in some bizarre impasse. 

Dream’s lips part softly, his answer a mere exhale, “I would.” 

Light, tingling sensation webs through your chest. You hadn’t expected that. “Under one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Answer me something, Morpheus. Truthfully.” With deliberate slowness, you step into his bubble, so close Dream’s lashes flutter as he peers at you. There’s such unbearable weight to his gaze. There’s always been a raging storm brewing there, but this is more. Heavier. “Corinthian was convinced that you made him in my image. Is it true?”

Your jaw sets stubbornly, the nightmare’s name stinging your tongue. Dream’s eyes roam over your features, seeking some unknown truth. You’re not asking about physical similarities, but you permit him this moment. Because he digs deeper, because your heart is in your throat when Dream finally settles on his truth: 

“While I did not recognise it as such at the time, I believe I did.”

You’ve known, been aware of this fact for centuries. Since Corinthian shared his hypothesis, you’ve been unable to scrub it from your mind. But to have confirmation from Dream himself paints many past events in a different light. 

“I made you poorly then… a black mirror made to reflect everything humanity will not confront.” Recalling Dream Lord’s words, you stagger backwards, your mind whirling with thoughts. A startled gasp pushes from your lungs, your attention snapping back to the Endless. Suddenly all the puzzle pieces slot perfectly into place. “I had it all wrong. Corinthian was a manifestation of your anger for what humanity was doing to me. He was to be your mirror, your teacher, so humanity may choose to be better. So they may learn to overcome their darkest impulses.”

Staggering backwards, words escape you in a torrent, “But it went wrong, didn’t it? You gave him too much of that anger—the fury of an Endless and reckless, unshakable defiance of a cursed mortal. You created a masterpiece by giving him too much. By making something that is so much more than just a nightmare. A perfect hybrid between an Endless and a mortal.”

Dream says nothing in response. It’s the only confirmation you need. 

In the end, you stay. But this time, you’re the one who avoids the Dream Lord. 

.

“You’re always welcome in my chambers, sweet Dream. It’s lovely to see you. Can I get you anything you desire?”

Morpheus strolls through the glossy scarlet chambers of his younger sibling’s stronghold. Desire of the Endless curls with each word spoken, stretching indolently across their seat. Loving malice lines planes of Desire’s face, enigmatic and magnetic as their name suggests. 

Dream moves closer. “I desire nothing from you, save some answers.”

Desire pouts, sitting up, their hands in their lap. “Oh? Do tell. I love a test.”

He’s never understood Desire’s love for games. Petulant slights or wish to inflict harm. To manipulate and use. Once…

He supposes it no longer matters what their relationship might have been once—too many years arc between them: too much history and bad blood. Morpheus prowls through the gallery, briefly flicking his attention towards his family’s sigils. 

“Unity Kincaid should have been the vortex of this age. But someone saw fit to take advantage of my imprisonment and fathered a child with her, knowing full well that it would become the vortex and I would be left with no choice but to kill it.”

A mock gasp escapes Desire’s ruby-painted lips. Their golden eyes blow wide open, startled and innocent, while they monitor Dream. 

“Are you implying I meddled with affairs of another Endless domain, dear brother?” Desire’s pout wobbles when Dream doesn't respond. The faux innocence melts away in a blink, leaving behind nothing but conniving malice, peering back through a hooded stare. “Oh, fine, was I really that obvious?” 

A brief, cool smile touches Dream’s lips, his words coming out frosty, “No. You covered your tracks remarkably well.”

“High praise, coming from you,” Desire tuts, grinning sharply. 

“What did you intend?” Dream heads towards the other Endless unhurriedly. “That I should spill family blood? With all that would entail?”

“This time, it almost worked.” Desire’s grin stretches wider, pleased. “I haven’t seen you this worked up since my little wrangle with lovely Wanderer. How is she, by the way? Still coughing up blood?”

His younger sibling adjusts their position once again, sitting up straighter. Bracing for a fight, Morpheus realises belatedly. This is a sore spot that always elicits a reaction. But this time, Morpheus will not be giving his sibling the satisfaction. He’s observed Desire’s and Wanderer’s relationship—or what little of it remains—long enough to draw his own conclusions. 

“You do not fool me,” Morpheus begins deliberately. The corners of Desire’s mouth tilt downwards slightly. “I know your fickle heart, my sibling, and you resent the fact Wanderer forgives others but not you. But you fail to understand why that same forgiveness has not been extended your way. We of the Endless are the servants of the living, not their masters. We exist only because they know deep in their hearts that we exist. We do not manipulate them. If anything, they manipulate us.”

“Then perhaps I shall pay Wanderer a visit in person.” Desire drags their thumbs over the edge of their lips, sly in their wily deliberation. “I do, after all, wear your face now. But unlike you, I will endeavour to be a far more… devoted lover.”

Wrath kindles in his chest. Morpheus knows. He’s read about your and Desire’s encounter at the shores of the Dreaming while he was locked away. 

He shakes his head. “Still, you fail to see. We are their dolls, Desire. You and Despair, and even poor Delirium, will do well to remember that.”

Desire presents him with a dismissive shrug, their nose wrinkling. “Maybe I don’t understand.”

“No, perhaps you do not,” Morpheus agrees softly. Circling, he slips behind his younger sibling. Desire’s head wrenches backwards, their gulping gasp nearly lost when Morpheus twists the other Endless’ head back, peering down at the blonde coldly. “Then let me tell you something you will understand: mess with me or mine again, and I shall forget you are family. You lay a finger on Wanderer, and I will make every circle of Hell feel like kindness by comparison. Do you believe yourself to be strong enough to stand against me? Against Death? Against Destiny?”

Desire forces down a gulp, their breath stuttering at the creeping wrath, “No.”

“No, indeed.” Dropping his hold, Morpheus straightens, his jaw rigid as he stalks away, adding, “Remember this next time you’re inspired to interfere in my affairs.”

And then he’s gone. 

.

Translucent light kisses your shoulders as you stroll towards the looming stronghold, your hands buried deep in your pockets. Your fingers have turned numb from how tightly you’re clenching them. The impressive, stone-carved statues depicting the seven Endless guide your way. Well, six. You pause by Destruction, the only one facing away, unlike his siblings.

You don’t dare to stray from the path. The likelihood of finding your way out if you get lost in the maze again is non-existent. 

The ruler of this sprawling, eerily silent domain greets you at the foot of the marble staircase. 

“I welcome thee, Wanderer, Roamer of Realms, into my stronghold.”

Even at this distance, Destiny looms so impossibly tall, some forgotten human instinct sparks in a warning.

Undeterred, you halt before the imposing figure, bowing your head. “I greet and thank you for your welcome, Destiny of the Endless.”

Only Destiny’s lower face is visible behind his billowing hood when he speaks in a crackling rasp, “You have arrived here for a single purpose.”

No ifs or buts about it—he knows better than that, the book slotted neatly under his arm. 

“And here I was, ready to ask if you’re surprised to see me,” you shoot back jokingly. Destiny does not smile or construe entertainment from your words. You sober, your attempt at levity now abandoned. “Guess we both know the answer to that. I’m here to share some theories if you have time to spare.”

To your surprise, Destiny slips past you, heading in the direction you came from, deeper into his garden. His footsteps make no sound. His cloak whispers behind him, shimmering in the dim, muted light. On equal footing, you have to crane your head to see him. The devouring dark pooling around the contours of his pallid face reveals nothing beneath the hood, even at your angle.  

“You seek to ask questions for which there are scarce few answers, Wanderer,” Destiny says resolutely. “You are far older than most mortals can comprehend, yet your heart remains stubbornly mortal.”

You set out after him at once, your invisible hackles rising. “In what way? My defiance?”

Destiny does not falter, his pace remaining as steady as lapping waves. “That is not for me to judge.”

The garden is vast and a marvel to behold, but the temperature lingers on that unnatural lukewarmness that gives away how unorthodox this place is. The light is perpetually unfading, gauzy in the corners of your eyes. It’s a confusing, strangely profound place. It’s as if Destiny’s realm contains everything all at once but also nothing. A place of futures to come, lives unlived, and wilted pasts. There’s no point in attempting to unravel it. There’s only uncanny strangeness you’ve come to accept. 

“You will spend time in the realm of each sibling—you will dream, despair, desire, destroy, delight and otherwise, and, eventually, die—but you were his from the very first page, and only he will read how your story comes out, a long time from now.”

Destiny doesn’t pause at your reiteration. There’s no indication he even heard you, but you’re a step behind him. A thousand years of trying to get answers have taught you he would not be entertaining you if this wasn’t heading somewhere. The thought of another scrap of information sets your heart thudding. Haven’t you spent the last two centuries piecing things together? Attempting to confirm your speculations before you came here to confront him with them. Your past attempts may have ended in uniform failure, but today is different. You can feel it.

“You told me that when we first met,” you continue, keeping your nonchalance. You’re no more than a child to him despite your millennia of existence—this is the only way to get him to take you seriously. “When I awoke in your garden, alone and terrified, with no clue as to who I was or what had happened to me. I’ve been thinking about those words ever since.”

Destiny slows, then stops altogether. Your heart climbs to your throat. You've paused by his statue, standing at the foot of polished, pale stone. Destiny’s cloak whispers when he hinges in your direction, anticipatory. He already knows what you will say.

“It was you. You’re the one who did this to me.” 

The clarity that clangs through you with those words shakes your knees. Sucking down more oxygen, you add, “Not directly, maybe. I was cursed by mortal power. This much I know for certain. But you made it possible. You led me to this by the hand. Why?”

And like a dozen times you’ve tried in the past, you expect dismissal, or worse, silence with which he’s punished you often. Destiny would disappear from your sight altogether. His patience and unwillingness to give you clear answers are unmatched. 

But not this time. 

“Because you broke your destiny. Tore it to shreds. Painted it red.” Destiny readjusts the heavy book under his arm. “So you were allocated a new path. One of hardship and pain, but one that may lead you to salvation. Should you tread it mindfully.”

The roar in your head is so loud you barely understand Destiny’s low, equable words. 

“You could have told me this a thousand years ago,” you choke out. 

He remains a perfectly barren canvas, but in the tension pulsing between you, there now whispers a hint of displeasure. Sweat trickles down your nape. 

“I did,” he replies flatly. “But you did not listen. You instead raged and ran, and what came of it?”

Madness and despair. 

Stumbling forward, you bite out, “Why? What did I do? What could prompt eternity of this.”

All this pain for crimes you couldn’t so much as recall. Whatever it was, have you not paid back your dues? Have you not suffered enough to make up for your past?

“Forgetting is the only kindness you’ve ever been spared. Or ever will be. Treat it as such.” Cold needles your spine, and a terrible urge to fold yourself into a ball gnaws on your bones. Destiny’s pitch does not change, nor does his bearing, but it doesn’t need to. “In your quest to break, you reformed into something else.”

Your force down saliva, near choking. “Into what?”

“Challenger of the Unknown.”

Silence envelopes the garden. There’s little to no sound in the Garden of the Forking Ways to begin with, but those words blanket everything. Not even the wind seems to stir. No blade of grass moves. This means something; it means something crucial, but you have no idea what.

“What does that mean?” you beseech. Destiny doesn’t move, nor does he answer. Your voice cracks. “Please just tell me.”

But you already know it’s a lost battle. This is all too familiar—the cold, pitiless silence, utterly unmoved. He’s given you all he’s intended to. 

“I used to think you hated me.” You’re not sure why you’re telling him this. Destiny won’t care. Your feet carry you past him. Briefly, you pause by Dream’s statue, then keep going. “More than anyone else in this universe. It wasn’t until Destruction left that I finally understood your position more. It is a burden to know what others don’t but be unable to speak that knowledge.”

There’s no doubt in your mind that Destiny knows where Destruction is. 

The Prodigal’s statue pierces your vision, making you squint into the hazy skies above. Your following words slip out, each lilting with breezy ease: “But it doesn’t mean I’ll ever forgive you for letting Dream rot in a cage for a hundred years when you knew it was coming, when you could have warned him somehow. I know you have a duty, but he’s your brother. However, indirectly you let Dreaming decay—my home. You let humanity suffer. I figured it out, by the way, why it’s a loophole. Why my book exists in the library, but nothing in other dimensions does. Why I can sleep in the Dreaming but not anywhere else.” 

Destiny stands stock still, his bony arms close to his chest, clutching his book. He displays no outward reaction as per usual. It’s a relief to voice your thoughts. You’re utterly terrified of him, but he’s right—your heart is still stubbornly human, as brazen as the Fates accused you of being.  

“Because if my curse was the will of the Endless, if my path—whatever it is—is so tightly bound to your family, then it only makes sense, right?” You’re not looking for a response because Destiny will offer none. “The Dreaming is the only place where aspects of each Endless manifest. It’s a loophole. The curse goes dormant when I’m in the Dreaming because the only thing more powerful than the curse is the combined power of the seven Endless.”

You’ve waited to voice your conclusions for so long, it’s surreal to have spoken them aloud. You might fear Destiny, but not enough to continue as a coward. He can deny it, but you’re confident that’s the reason. It’s the only thing that makes sense. 

“My siblings have gained much from their companionship with you, Wanderer,” Destiny admits. You quell a flinch despite Destiny’s voice retaining its monotonous quality. “But you and I are antitheses of one another. My brother would not be who he is now had he not tasted that helplessness and sorrow. You are the ink and the quilt with which Dream will write his story.”

His words make little to no sense. Dream is… Dream. What could ever influence him? Much less you. He’s changed since his imprisonment, it’s true, but doubt still nestles in your heart. Had the situation with Gault not proven how those attempts to change come undone in a blink? Despite it, Dream is trying, and it’s more than enough. Change doesn’t happen overnight; not any profound version, anyway. 

You wipe across your face, schooling yourself. “I won’t stop trying to save them even if I’m punished further,” you assert. “I’ll always fight for humanity.”

Even over his hood, you feel your gazes clash, burning into one another. 

“I would expect no less,” Destiny assures. 

Squaring your shoulders, you’re halfway between dimensions before a thought occurs to you. “Just one more thing before I go.”

Destiny is as grave as usual, entirely inhuman in his foreboding silence while he waits. 

“It can be broken, can’t it?” you say, scrutinising him closely. “The curse. There are weak spots in its design.”

“That is for you to discover,” he replies, much to your surprise. It’s closer to a yes than a no. “But pay heed. This path will not be forgiving should you wish to pursue it.”

Icy trepidation creeps its claws down your spine. You don’t permit it to show. 

“Nothing in my life has been forgiving,” you say curtly. “I bid you good fortune, Destiny.”

“And I you, Roamer of Realms.”

.

“Happy Dreamfall.”

Slanting your head, you let your chin dig into your shoulder, smiling. You hadn’t seen the Dream Lord since you snuck back into the Dreaming, seemingly no one having noticed your momentary departure. Normally, there are someone’s eyes on you. But only Dream can sense your appearance and disappearance inside the Dreaming itself. So you’ve taken advantage of his absence. You’ve had too much on your mind since your return from visiting Destiny to seek him out yet. 

“Happy Dreamfall,” you say to the Endless, who comes to a halt beside you. “May Fates smile upon you, Dream Lord. And may your realm of dreams be aplenty.”

Behind you, the castle grounds buzz with activity. At long last, things were returning to normal. This is the first cause of celebration these dreams and nightmares had in over a century. Back home, safe and in a place where they belong. You hugged and drank sweet nectars with plenty, smiling and touching hands. Or claws. But it didn’t take long to slip away and settle out here. 

Perched on the castle staircase, you must make for an odd sight, but Gatekeepers straighten back into their patrol positions with Dream’s arrival. You had left the castle to enjoy the darkening skies, the dreams swelling and blinking in the pitch-black canvas, ready for their journey. The Gatekeepers had clustered close, and you had spent a while simply chatting. You’ve missed them. It had been harrowing to witness them turn to stone while Dream was missing.  

“Would you walk with me?” Dream asks.

Wetting your lips, you stand. “Sure.”

Without a preamble, Dream sets out. His gait hovers on ponderous this evening. You’ve gotten used to more hurried, curt interactions between you. Invisible tension stretched tautly. Will-o'-the-wisps dance and sway through the humming evening air. Flowers in your path bloom in different colours, fairy dust sprinkled through the air. You continue on the faintly lit path cutting through the heart of the Dreaming without a word. 

“Are you well?”

Dream’s sudden question shakes you from your peaceful stupor. 

“Busy, but good,” you answer. “And you?”

Dream halts abruptly. You pass him, then do the same, gazing back at him, confused. 

Dream Lord’s pale eyes dig into you. They steal from you, and they give more than words ever could. But this once, Dream also uses his words: “I wish for us to talk as we once did.”

Anxiety pangs through your belly. You hadn’t expected him to point it out. Your lips compress into a stiff, bloodless line. It would be a bald-faced lie to insist something hasn’t broken between you. Corinthian’s unmaking has driven a wedge between you that neither can overcome. The nightmare had to be stopped, but it doesn’t take away from the grief festering in your chest. Most believe grief is an absence, but you’ve found the exact opposite is true. 

Grief is a presence that should be there but isn’t. It’s a weight of memories, of possibilities, of life unlived. Corinthian has become your phantom limb, his absence invisible to all but you as is the bleed.

“We’re getting there,” you say lastly.

His wild hair covers his eyes when his head lowers. Subconsciously, you find yourself stepping towards him, folding your hand around his. Cool and silky to the touch. A breath, and then you feel Dream’s hand curl around yours. He doesn’t move otherwise, muscles sitting in rigid mass beneath his pale skin. 

“Dream,” you call his name gently. “You’re trying. I see that. We’re finding new ways. Now tell me why we’re here.”

Because this path is familiar to you as your own hands. Just over the dark treeline lays the beach. The docks you’ve visited every night in his absence. This path had been your pilgrimage once, and now he’s returned. The fingers folded around yours tighten. Dream wordlessly tugs you with him until soft sand cushions the soles of your shoes. 

“It is a night where anything is possible,” he says knowingly. 

Your heartbeat jumps when he leads you towards the pier, wood creaking under your combined weight. “What are you doing?”

Dream draws you both to a stop halfway across the pier, something close to mischief sparking in his gaze. It’s so bizarrely unwonted you do a doubletake.

“Giving you my present.”

With that, he strides closer. Your mouth dries when he gently curls his arm around your waist. He raises your joint hands, spinning you to the side slowly. Clumsily, your legs obey, your breaths escaping uneven gulps. 

“Are we dancing, Dream Lord?”

Dream bows his head closer to yours, his voice velvet, “We are dancing in starlight, you and I.”

It’s then you feel the tingling, reverent whisper of his power over your body. Your eyes widen when you see faint light needling the sturdy fabric, as if your coat has become no more than a window into the raw cosmos. Galaxies swirl in raging spirals across the once-dark material. Your head snaps to the side while Dream continues spinning you unhurriedly. Your coat is shrinking, reshaping to fit your body even better than it did up to this point. 

“Dream this is…”

The coat settles into actuality. Sparkling dust spills from the material when you shift. Your overcoat has shrunk to kiss just above your knees. More fitted but no less comfortable. And then there’s the way it glimmers like a precious jewel whenever moonlight hits it. 

“I had hoped to give you something more… fitting,” Dream murmurs. You look up at him, your noses almost touching. “It is only right for the one who roams the stars to wear a coat of pure starlight.”

“Thank you,” you whisper shakily. “It’s beautiful.”

Beautiful doesn’t do it justice. The midnight material shimmers with your movement, liquid starlight captured into tangible fabric, and your throat closes up as you examine it further. Dream slips his arm from your waist. He lifts your joint hands, comfortable in his own, and lays a light kiss on your hand.

“It becomes you,” he compliments quietly, releasing you. “Now… it’s time.”

Your brows crease. “Time for what?”

Was this not it? Thick emotions still coat your tongue, lodged deep in your windpipe. But Dream only devours you with quiet intensity. 

Above your head, dreams start raining down in shining beams of light.

“We begin… with a spin.”

Your heart stutters to a stop. Water roars behind Dream, wild spray flying through the air. The faint drizzle beats against your face, leaving you gaping. 

“Dream. I…”

He extends his hand your way. “There is no Dreaming without Wanderer Island. Should you wish it, I would like us to create another.”

Your features crumble, the ball in your throat robbing you of your voice. Indecision holds you captive—on the one hand, you want nothing more, but on another, you’re too afraid. What if it all ends up in the same place? You watching yet another part of you sink into those inky depths. 

But there’s something cautious, near vulnerable, to be found in Dream’s guarded features. It’s an effort for him to open up, but you can see the unsure way his hand hangs in offering between you. He’s bracing himself for rejection, for you to leave him alone on this pier. 

You grasp his proffered hand, fingers winding cautiously around his. Dream’s shoulders slump slightly from their rigid slant, relaxing at the contact. 

He guides you to an all too familiar position. You standing at the edge of the pier, him behind you, a hand on your shoulder. A disconcerting sensation of deja vu falls over you. 

“Describe it to me,” he prompts.

Black, foreboding waters of the Dreaming spin in ferocious whirlpools. Dream’s elegant hand pierces your line of sight, primed for creation. 

“There’s a small island.” Your voice trembles. You haven’t forgotten anything, down to the exact words used. You conjure the Wanderer Island in your mind’s eye as it once stood; brilliant and shining. The visual blooms bold and alive in your mind. “The grass that grows there is the greenest there’s ever been. And it tastes like sour apples.”

Dream’s hand on your shoulder squeezes lightly. Same amusement, even centuries later. You’re both changed, but a familiar outline of an island starts taking shape on the horizon. 

“The sun that shines on the island is never too hot. The air is sweet and light. The flowers never wilt, and trees never shed leaves.” It’s pouring from your mouth now, an avalanche of memory. You’ve missed the island so dearly, and details from five centuries ago come readily. “The sky is an endless periwinkle shade. There’s always food and drinks. Books and games. And…”

Your heart bleeds, fresh wounds gushing. But you push on because it’s not about you.

“And an old friend waits at the beach to greet you with a patient smile whenever you arrive. Because not everyone has a family, and not everyone needs a lover, but everyone should have a friend. The island will be there whenever someone feels lonely, lost, or desperate for an escape. It’ll be there to welcome you. To give you a corner to hide. There is no sadness there. No loneliness or confusion. Only…”

Dream’s lips tickle over the shell of your ear. “… hope.”

And then stillness. 

The water settles in a gurgling slosh. In the distance, a patch of land once again floats. There to welcome new dreamers. Wanderer Island blurs. The heel of your hand presses over your eyes, overwhelmed. 

Blindly, you tug on Dream’s coat; a mute request. Between one inhale and the next, wood underfoot is exchanged for sand. 

Everything is the same down to the last blade of grass and tree composition. Either your vision was so clear Dream could pluck every last detail from your mind or…

Or he remembered the Island with the same clarity as you. 

You sink to your knees. Sand crumbles around your digits when you dip them into the pliable sand. 

“Hi. There you are.”

Nothing, then…

Grass sprouts unprompted around your hand, tiny daisies twining across your thumb. Utterly impossible, yet tonight, here, anything is possible. A choked laugh escapes you. Your cheeks ache from your beaming smile. 

“She’s missed you,” Dream reveals quietly.

Your head lifts in surprise. You stroke the miniature, perfect blooms. “I missed you too.”

With another tickle, the flowers and grass retreat, shrinking into the golden beach. Several moments pass by until you unearth the strength to stand. Dream’s profile greets you. He’s turned away, giving you privacy, but subtle uncertainty lines his features. Sensing your attention, he peers towards you, then past you. 

“Thank you,” you breathe. Despite your verbal gratitude, Dream’s attention remains fixed over your shoulder. “What?”

His low words reach you over the sound of lapping waves. “Are you not going to say hello to an old friend?”

You follow his line of sight. Behind you, at a distance with falling dreams as his backdrop, stands a tall, pale-haired figure. 

Everything inside you falls very, very quiet—all those tumultuous emotions freeze. Your head snaps back to Dream with a stifled gulp. It can’t be real. Surely it’s some mirage, a feedback loop, a ghost conjured from your love for the now-gone nightmare. 

But Dream only slants his head in a marginal, affirming nod. You dare to peek behind you once more. There he stands. The nightmare. Not a twisted joke. 

Your feet carry you towards him without conscious thought; half-running, half-walking, stumbling all the while. Corinthian stands with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders in a slight slouch. His nude-coloured slacks and white shirt shine like beacons in the pale moonlight. Round shades cover his eyes, his blonde strands fluttering in the light breeze. 

He's a figment. Not quite tangible until your body crashes into him, your arms scrambling to hold onto him. “Oh, God!”

Dry, humoured, “Not quite.”

Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can feel it, if not hear it. A pained, whining sound bubbles up in your throat, gripping him closer.

“I… how…” You wrench yourself back, a horrible thought occurring. You search his handsome features. That infuriating smirk always curling his mouth is absent. “Do you remember me?”

Corinthian stands there, not moving, with no real emotion on display, either. Your heart sinks. Could it be that he—

Dull throb flares across your forehead. He’s flicked you—

A wide, toothy grin stretches across Corinthian’s mouth. “Gotcha.”

With a choked laugh, you punch his shoulder, hugging him close with a wide smile. “I hate you.”

A pleased hum. This time, the nightmare’s arm settles around you. “Hate you more.”

You’re not sure how long you both stand there. When you do part, reluctance keeps your hand on him. Fingertips connecting to some part of him. Remembering the Dream Lord you came here with—who gave you this, his present—you find Dream no longer on the beach. Or anywhere in sight. He’s given you privacy and time. Your heart softens further.  

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Corinthian’s subdued question tugs your attention back towards him. You almost wish he didn’t remind you. Because now you’re faced with the reality that even though he’s been returned to you, there’s much you both need to overcome and fix. That losing him did not magically wipe away the wrongs he’s done. If you hope to return to the relationship you once had, you’ll need time.

You consider him for a moment. 

“You’re always forgiven,” you tell him honestly. 

Standing in the moonglow, you pretend you don’t notice how something coiled tightly seems to loosen inside him at your reassurance. Instead, you reach for his face. Your fingertips brush over Corinthain’s glasses, and his hand snap out, wrapping around your wrist tightly. Bones making up his jaw roll beneath the skin. Tension throbs between you while seconds tick by. Through clenched teeth, Corinthian unwraps his hold finger by finger. 

You tug his shades away from his face. He’s tense as a bowstring, his head slanted at an angle. The same jagged teeth sit where most have eyeballs. They’re hooded, though. His discomfort—and anger at said discomfort—couldn’t be more perspicuous. 

His shades close as you fold arm temples one at a time. You hold his stare, staring right at those jagged teeth with a slight frown. You extend his shades back to him mutely. 

“But my trust is something you will have to earn back,” you state earnestly. 

The nightmare hesitates halfway to reaching for his glasses. Those pale fingers dance over them before he plucks them from you.

“Sounds like a fair deal,” he muses absently. You expect him to put the shades back on, but instead, Corinthian hooks them on his shirt pocket. Turning to go, he calls out a honeyed, “You coming?”

He gazes at you over his shoulder, jagged teeth on full show, and you feel yourself smile.

“Always.”

.

Sun shines luminous and warm today. The Wanderer Island stretches as far as your eye can perceive, teeming with life and greenery around every corner. Flowers and trees bloom everywhere—an awe-inspiring marriage between tropical and temperate climates. The Island once again oozes a sense of magick and wonder that was once so prominent here. No place in the universe can compare.  

“Rebuilding is almost complete,” you begin conversationally. “The Dreaming is more beautiful than ever.”

The Endless keeps pace beside you, a pensive sound rumbling from him. “It was not without aid.”

A smile twitches your lips upwards. “You’re welcome.”

Two weeks have gone by since Dreamfall. Things have mended—between you individually and the atmosphere around the Dreaming. While Corinthian’s return was met with some side glances, no one discussed it further. Dreamfolk trust Dream to make the right decision. Or perhaps Gault was right; they’re wiser than to outright question.  

“The Corinthian has also been making progress,” Dream says. “I am hoping to place him under supervision and monitor his conduct. To make sure what happened is never repeated. Should the need arise, he will be allocated duties back in the waking world.”

Joy flutters in your heart. “Yeah? That’s great. Someone you trust, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“And?” you probe. “Are you going to tell me who or not?”

In your peripheral, Dream inclines in your direction. “Yours.”

You nearly trip. “Dream, I—” You clear your throat, pausing. “Are you sure? It didn’t exactly work out last time.”

Dream’s intent scrutiny slides over your facial features. “It was due to no fault of yours. And this Corinthian is the same in all but one function. He will not fail again. He has a different purpose now.”

There’s a solemn sort of finality about the way he articulates those words. A tiny shiver skitters down your spine. He will not expand further upon those words. Whatever that purpose is, you imagine time will reveal it. 

You chew on your inner cheek. “Okay. I would like that.”

You smile at him. But Dream’s expression stutters, overcome by some foreign emotion. His mouth parts, then closes, his fingers folding into white-knuckled fists. 

Just as you’re about to ask what’s wrong, Dream speaks: “Wanderer. Stay.”

You muster up an uncertain, perplexed smile. “I’m right here.”

Dream marches closer, sunshine caught in his onyx hair. 

“Stay however long you want,” he insists softly. “Stay forever if it should so please you.”

Shock envelops you, freezing you in your spot. You’ve told him, didn’t you? That you would stay forever by his side if only he asked. Now he’s asking. Except confusion and unease battle in your chest. Can you trust his word? Did Dream change enough? He brought back Corinthian. He freed Gault from the Darkness. He insists this is a new age. But…

“And if I wanted to leave?” you question. “If I chose never to return, what then?”

“It would sadden my creations—”

“I’m asking you.”

Dream falters, shackled by your insistence. His lashes flutter, his head lowering in near palpable struggle. You’re challenging him, but you refuse to continue with the charade. If he wants forever, you can’t live with the fear he might change his mind about it. 

“It would pain me, also. A great deal.” He hesitates again, and it’s bizarre because this degree of uncertainty is not something you associate Dream with. “But you are free. You've always been free. The Dreaming is your home. Should you wish to return, its gates will always await you.”

Doubt twists your mouth downwards. “I thought that once—”

“I swear it. No matter what the future may hold. No matter how angry I get, I shall never again take the Dreaming away from you.” Sheer power woven into those words leaves no room for doubt. It’s a vow. He will not break it. There would be a price to pay if he did. Dream’s fingertips ghost over yours, a graze leaving fire in its wake. “I read your book in the library. I did not wish to tell you sooner because I worried you would leave. Because… you were right. I could never understand the sheer devastation. Or the harm I inflicted.”

You drag your hand back, stepping away from him. Dream’s features fall subtly. You face away, giving him your back while you process. Raising the hand he was caressing seconds prior, you cradle it to your chest. Sunshine prickles your cheek, but you ignore it. 

“I’m not ashamed of my past,” you tell him, turning back to face him. “I always knew there was a chance you could read it. So, what did you think?”

He appears pained. At least now you know why he’s been so melancholy these last several weeks. “That I should wish for nothing more than for you to stay by my side.”

Those unadorned words devastated you. 

Smiling through your inflated, overjoyed heart, you mumble, “Stay forever… I can’t technically do that.”

But Dream is unruffled. If anything, you glimpse the beginnings of hope starting to take root in him. 

“I’ll seek a way,” he avows. 

“To what?” An incredulous chuckle escapes you. “Break the curse?”

Destiny’s warning jump back to the forefront of your mind, and you swallow thickly. You don’t dare to ponder freedom for longer than an indulgent moment. 

“Yes,” Dream replies. 

You stare at him. Tall and dark, sunlit and more open than you’ve ever seen him. Determined and golden. Your Dream Lord. He terrifies you. You love him. 

“You can’t interfere,” you remind him emptily. “And I might die.”

“Or you may live,” Dream argues. “Freely. And choose for yourself. Always.”

“Trying to bait me, Dream Lord?”

Sudden tension between you loosens around the edges. Once more, the susurration of the trees trickles into your mind, elevating the brewing anxiety. 

A thousand years. The curse has defined your existence and has kept you alive this long. What are you without it? There’s always been an unspoken acknowledgement that you could never break the curse without dying. Simply too much time has passed. No mortal vessel can survive over a millennium otherwise. When you asked Destiny, it was only to understand more about the nature of the curse. Not because you ever assumed you could survive breaking the curse. 

Dream’s mouth compresses as if he’s attempting not to smile. “I would never.”

“Stay by your side, huh?” you mutter, looking away while you mull over your conversation. “And what exactly would that entail?”

His response is immediate, smooth, “Whatever you wish.”

“A companion, then?” Your words pitch lower and silkier while you close the minimal distance with relaxed, unhurried steps. Dream’s eyes darken a shade. “An emissary? A consort? A queen?”

His black-clad shoulders lift with his inhale. 

“Those are but words,” he murmurs silkily. “For you would be all those things, and more.”

You examine his profile, those starlit irises, the doubt swimming there. Does he doubt you would stay? After such long years harbouring this affection for him? Silly, wonderful anthropomorphic personification. “I’ll stay, but only if you answer a question.”

“Even if the price were a hundred thousand questions, Wanderer, I would pay it gladly. What is this question?”

Narrowing your eyes, you scrutinise him. Dream does not balk under your exigent examination, waiting patiently. Biting back a smile, you permit your features to relax. He’s unfairly fun to tease. 

“What does the Lord of Dreams dream about?”

Relish bubbles in your chest at the way Dream’s expression comes undone. As if from a thousand questions he was bracing for, nothing could have prepared him for this. Birds chirp a merry tune somewhere in the tree line, a warm breeze ruffling Dream’s dark hair while he gazes at you with utterly confused wonderment. A slight, fond smile curls his lips.  

“A thousand years,” he begins in a bewildered drawl. “And still, you ask the same question.”

You laugh faintly, shrugging. “Well, in all fairness, you never answered me the last time. Which was very rude, by the way—”

In an inhale Dream of the Endless materialises in front of you. His hands slip to hold your face, cupping it with delicate hands as he tugs you closer. His kiss falls over you like stars. Silky, gentle warmth that washes over you with such fervent passion you gasp against his mouth. Your hands grasp onto him blindly. You part only long enough for you to gulp down oxygen before your mouths meet again, and again, and again, burning with need unquenched. Heat spreads through every inch of you. A thousand years being cold, floating unearthed, but now someone is holding you. 

Dream presses another kiss to your mouth, desperate and hungry, gentle in his handling, and you return it with equal enthusiasm, equal need. Dizziness envelops you, and Dream pulls back, his forehead resting against yours. You shudder, a delicious heat licking up your senses. This closeness hurts better than anything ever has. You remind yourself to breathe, to remember this is real, he’s here, holding you, and nothing matters in this moment. Whatever the future holds, you do not fear it. Because Hob was right: there are people out there who love, and that makes all the difference. 

Dream’s thumb grazes over your bunched-up cheek. Your smile is wide enough to light your entire face. 

It continues with a gentle, rasping: “I’ll tell you one day, stardust.”

an:

Never apologise, never explain.

I set out to write nothing more than a fun little story that I expected to have maybe 3-4 parts max. Something entirely self-indulgent and fun for no one but me and maybe one or two mutuals. I never quite expected it would become as beloved as it did. I suppose here, in the end, I would like to take the time to thank everyone who read this and supported it. Be it by commenting, making edits/art for it or just sending me encouraging/funny messages. You guys are the reason this story became what it did. I'm immensely grateful for each and every single one of you. It was a rough month, but I'm glad I could offer you this conclusion at long last. Thank you for being here, thank you for being kind, and thank you again for reading.

Goodnight, and see you all in dreams, wanderers ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

[sky-kiss]

Raphael & Jaheira: You All Meet at an Inn

A/N: I had to get an intro out of the way before proper sassing down the line. And apologies, I'm out of practice with writing.

R & J: Let's be honest, his taste in wine is so much better than hers

Like many of his kind, the devil was a series of contradictions. 

Handsome but not striking. Languid, but only on a cursory inspection. A more pointed observation would showcase the taut muscles in his shoulders and thighs, hinting that the lazy rolling motion of his wrist was intentional rather than instinctual. And, perhaps most importantly, despite the ostentatiousness of his garb, rich blues, reds, and golds, which demanded attention and respect, few of the Last Light’s patrons truly saw him. 

Jaheira did not fault them for the oversight. The High Harper noted it with a world-weary amalgamation of affection and exhaustion. Few prey animals noticed the hunter until it was upon them. Man and beast were not such disparate creatures. 

She shifted, rolling her shoulders to alleviate some residual tension—the aches that never seemed to properly fade these days, which had faded until only a decade prior. She should turn him out. And aye, much like the aches, even a decade ago, she might have done something about his presence—but where was the harm? He stuck to his corner and played his games. 

In the darker stretches of the night, his attention shifted away from the lance-board and his books towards the door. The devil waited. 

Jaheira waited, too.  

The devil lifted his head, eyes flicking from the Mystra piece to the Harper. He made a show of it, eyes widening, lips turning up in a smile—noticing her, seemingly for the first time. She snorted, arching a brow. He shrugged, expression relaxing into something more neutral and more genuine, motioning to the seat across from him. 

“You know, I rather wondered which of us would bring our little dance to its close,” he began, voice warm and rich. His lips twitched, expression colored with so many masterful little notes—presumed intimacy, natural familiarity…they might have been old friends meeting for drinks in any alehouse. Easiness and charm…the domain of all his kind. His eyes glittered in the firelight. 

The half-elf sunk into the chair, holding her arms out wide. “Shall we continue circling each other like coquettish maids?” Jaheira waved him off. “Who has time for it?”

“Certainly not you, High Harper. All this,” he motioned around them, attention flicking to the window and the shadows just beyond. “Resting on your shoulders…such a weighty calling.” 

“You offer to take it from me?” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it. You are so…uniquely equipped for these travails.” 

Jaheira snorted. “Let us call it experience—hard won over many years of life.” She tipped her head to the side, regarding him closely. Without a room of distance between them, she could appreciate the more minor details of this mortal form: wrinkles near the corners of his eyes, hints of sunspots across the back of his hands, and streaks of gray brightening otherwise dark hair. He felt fully manifest in a way so many of his ilk failed to recognize—the little things grounded an illusion in reality. “Come, tell me what to call you. In my head, it is ‘devil this, devil that’...tedious.” 

His eyes widened. “You shall have to forgive this lapse in manners—it’s the setting, you see. One really isn’t at their best.” He mimed a bow, someone still regal despite the confines of the chair. “I am Raphael—very much at your service.” 

“A pleasant name! Well-suited to this pleasant face.”  

Raphael hummed. With a snap of his fingers, the lance-board disappeared. In its place, a bottle of brandy. She did not recognize the label’s language. “A devil in your house, and yet…we are rather blase.” 

“Do not take it personally.” She ghosted her fingers across the table. “Gods of death, demon princes…after these things—” his muscles drew taut, eyes narrowing as she spoke. “ —your feathers are very pretty, but… you make for a much smaller bird.” 

To his credit, Raphael laughed. He poured them each a glass of wine. As if in concession, he took the first sip—no poison. Jaheira bowed her head and followed suit. The wine’s bouquet blossomed across her tongue—rich and deep, a hint of cherry and leather giving way to softer, more subtle notes. It reminded her of Calimshan—pleasant evenings before the true weight of adventuring settled on her shoulder…when she’d been young, Khalid at her side. 

The knowing glint in his eye said he’d anticipated such a reaction. A smaller bird, perhaps, but cunning. I have survived so many years, his gaze said, and I have thrived for good reason. 

“To walk so freely on the Prime is no small thing. And you do not seem the sort to bind yourself to the whims of mortals…” she tapped her chin. “A cambion, then.” 

“Are we to trade parlor tricks, my dear? Shall I ask if your house qualified you as a ‘princess’ or a ‘lady’ in Tethyr?” 

“A lady, though my youngest will argue that point till she is blue in the face.” Jaheira held up her glass in salute. “Do not take offense—it was a compliment, one mongrel to another.” 

Raphael chuckled. “One mongrel to another.” The cambion sighed, relaxing back into his seat. He stroked his chin, fingers teasing across the whisper of stubble—not quite a day’s growth, perhaps a matter of hours. A testament to his dedication and vanity—over the past week, he’d never moved from his seat by the window. “Shall we be honest with each other, ladyship?” 

“It depends. Will honestly not make your skin itch?” 

“You wound me. I am a paragon of virtue to friends and clients both. And the honest truth is I am awaiting a favorite distraction of mine.” He sipped his wine again. “I dare say they might even solve the lion’s share of your problems. Interested?” 

She hummed. Jaheira settled more comfortably in her chair. “Sing me your song, lovely bird. Perhaps…we may yet benefit one another.”

[latoyalestrange]

dessert fairy

s. sallow x f!reader

lil drabble inspired by talkiing with @ask-sebastian. ps i'm literally falling in love with this rp acct. he's too smooth i swear.

summary: in which sirona takes things into her own hands when she's tired of watching you and sebastian dance around your feelings for one another.

words: 1kish

warnings: 7th year mc and seb, pining, awkwardness, fluff, not edited! literally the tiniest bit of angst/ hurt and comfort. mention of professor fig :(

every year on the day the hogwarts students returned, hogsmeade held a little fair with music, various pop-up shops, and of course dancing in the square to celebrate. it went without saying that you and sebastian would be attending together as you had the previous year. you weren't sure if it was a good sign or not.

see, you and sebastian were stuck in a waiting game. he would walk you to your classes, insistent on holding your books, offer his scarf when you were cold, let you copy his homework, and would stand up for you anytime students teased you. but that's what any good friend would do, right? you were both painfully oblivious to the other's advances, and therefore you stayed in a limbo of casual flirting that never led to anything.

you pondered this as you stood in the courtyard facing the hamlet, your back to the entrance of the school. you were waiting for him to join you after dinner to head to hogsmeade for a night filled with fun. well, as much fun as you could possibly have with the person you're not-so-secretly pining after. you fidgeted with your hands, looking down at them awkwardly. you were unaware of the slytherin boy as he snuck up behind you, taking silent steps as he approached. his hands pinching your sides shook you out of your trance and you instinctively gasped, ready to scream and run from whatever spooked you.

"sebastian!" you exclaimed, rolling your eyes and clutching your chest as you saw him. he chuckled, letting his hands ghost over your hips as he stood in front of you.

"sorry, it was too perfect of an opportunity to pass up." once you caught you breath, you found yourself blushing as you looked up at his tall form that practically towered over you now after his most recent growth spurt. his cinnamon eyes were still as rich and romantic as ever. "shall we?" you glanced down to see his arm that he held out for you to link with.

"i don't think i want to go with you now, sallow," you teased. he saw right through it.

"yes, you do. come on." he nudged you with his elbow. you sighed, finally snaking your arm around his muscular one as he began leading you to hogsmeade. as well as he could read you, you'd think he'd know how you truly felt about him. but unfortunately for the both of you, sebastian wasn't really as confident as he seemed. he was secure in his dueling abilities and being an incredible student, but when it came to you? he was just as in the dark as you were. you would get bake him his favorite sweets, choose him as your dueling partner every time without fail, and would consistently be there for him when he was missing his sister, letting him hold you tightly as you patted his fluffy brown curls. but that's just what any good friend would do, right?

as you approached the hamlet, you took in the sight of the extra twinkling lights they had put up and the adorable little shops that lined the square. one for handcrafted jewelry, one for a beautiful collection of paintings done by local artists, and a few booths selling various muggle objects. the regular musician that played in the square was also there, and with a few extra instruments that he harmonized perfectly together. it was busier than normal, but that was expected. people from hamlets all around the highlands traveled to see the festivals all year in hogsmeade. unbeknownst to you, while you were digesting your surroundings, sebastian stared down at you adoringly, savoring you adorable expression. he could feel his heart pang in his chest. merlin, how he wished he could confess everything to you in that moment.

"what first?" realizing you probably caught him staring, he blinked away his heart-eyes to respond.

"drinks, obviously," he joked, earning a giggle from you. he began leading you to the three broomsticks, which was only a few paces from the square. once you entered, it was the same as the outside, bustling with patrons chatting loudly.

"agreed. i need a few before i can socialize." he quirked his brown in your direction.

"you're socializing now, aren't you?" he asked in a teasing tone. you shook your head as you reached the only free table in the corner of the first floor. he pulled your chair out for you, pushing you under the table after you sat.

"no, you're different. i don't need alcohol to tolerate you."

he winced playfully, "ouch, tolerate?" you waved his fake pained expression away with your hand.

"oh, you know what i mean. of course i more than tolerate you." redness crept up your neck as you said it, feeling embarrassed by the slightest hint of boldness in your words and his gentlemanly gestures. he brushed it off, chuckling.

"i'll go get us a round, yeah? stay put." you nodded and watched him turn away. you let your head fall to the table with a thud once he couldn't see. how could he not see what he was doing to you? you quickly put yourself back together before he returned, full mugs of butter bear in hand. he placed them on the table in front of you and finally took his place opposite to you. you suddenly noticed the brilliant golden hues that cast across the room from the candle chandeliers. he looked angelic in the light, you could've sworn he was glowing.

"so, seventh year, hm?" he settled in the plush seat beneath him, or was he shifting nervously? you couldn't tell. "what are your plans after you absolutely ace the n.e.w.t.s?" he smiled cheekily as he brought the frosted mug up to his plush lips. you watched as you pondered your answer, eyeing the foam mustache that he skillfully wiped away with his tongue.

"uh-- i'm not entirely for sure yet. everything is still so new." he nodded understandingly, allowing you to continue. "professor weasley actually mentioned to me that they're still looking for a permanent replacement for professor fig." you tried to seem excited about it, but your eyes instantly fell to your fidgeting hands that rested on the table at the mention of your late mentor. "she said, um...that i might be a good fit, if things go well." his brow furrowed, his heart aching for you as he watched the excitement leave your face.

"you don't seem excited by the idea." he looked down at your hands and took one in his own, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb. you shook your head glumly, unable to meet his gaze. "can i ask why?"

"it's just...there are so many other wizards and witches that are perfectly capable--" you stopped, forcing yourself to breathe before you started crying in public. he only squeezed your hand. "there are so many other capable people that aren't responsible for his death."

he shook his head immediately at the prospect. "what happened was in no way your fault, y/n. i didn't know him as well as you did, but what i do know is that him and every professor chose to fight alongside you that day. as far as i'm concerned, they were all lucky to have you there. imagine if you weren't and they had to fight ranrock without anyone with your ability?" you sighed, contemplating his words.

a smile slowly crept back onto your lips, "thank you, sebastian...i wish that made me feel better about it. i really do." he shared a sympathetic smile with you as you sat in comfortable silence for a moment before you continued. "but what about you? what are your plans?" his expression softened to a more playful one as he sat back in his seat, still holding your hand in his.

"oh, you know me. survive." you rolled your eyes at his lightheartedness, but your face looked anything but annoyed by his antics.

"at least you're not planning to leave me here alone."

he shook his head once more, "i'd never." your familiar blush returned, this time reaching your cheeks and nose. you were suddenly hyper-aware of how his hand felt as it held yours and your legs that tangled together under the table.

"so...just me and you then?" you couldn't force your eyes to meet his, as much as you wanted them to.

"against the world." if you weren't blushing before, you definitely were now. something about that made your mind go blank and you suddenly couldnt find a clever remark to retort with. to fill the gap, you brought your own mug to your lip, taking a selfish sip. like sebastian's, it left a silly mustache on your lip. you didn't notice at first, caught up in your thoughts.

"oh, you've got a little..." he gestured to his mouth and you instantly knew. did you always have to make a fool of yourself in front of him? you wiped it with your thumb, but a little dribble remained at the corner of your mouth.

"here, let me." he gently brought his hand up to ghost over your cheek, wiping the leftover foam from your lip. you were sure now that your entire face was beet red from the contact.

you were back to searching your mind frantically for any response. luckily, you didn't need to find one, as someone had joined you at the edge of your table. once you looked up, you realized it was sirona ryan, the owner of the three broomsticks and seer of all, apparently. she held a generous slice of her signature chocolate cake with a dollop of whipped cream and two heart-shaped cherries on top.

"lover's special, on the house. you two have fun at the festival tonight." she placed the plate between the two of you. "not too much fun, though," she added with a wink. you and sebastian exchanged looks, and he was the first to speak.

"lovers special?" he chuckled bemusedly as he looked to you. "i mean, not that i'm one to say no to free cake or anything, but--" he was swiftly cut off by your foot meeting his shin beneath the table.

"thank you sirona," you added sweetly. she smiled politely and turned on her heel to return to the counter.

sebastian laughed, "ow! what was that for?" his playful expression quickly dropped once he saw you, your hands now withdrawn to your lap at you looked down it to it, picking at your nails. "hey, what's wrong?"

you answered meekly, "is it really that weird to think of me in that way?" he instantly felt terrible. you looked so hurt. "i thought maybe since..." you trailed off, sighing. "i don't know what i thought.

"no, no, that's not what i meant at all!" he quickly defended. "i just--i guess i was surprised by sirona's assumption, is all..." it was his turn to fall silent, trying desperately to find the words to say next.

he cleared his throat and asked gently, "do...do you think of me in that way?" he was almost afraid of saying it outright.

realizing there was no way out of this painfully awkward conversation, you were able to stutter out, "oh! i-- uhm, no! i mean--" you instantly covered your face with your hands, wanting to hide. "oh, merlin, i've ruined it, haven't i?" your voice was muffled as you hid behind your hands. he was quick to pull your hands away from your face and hold them in his own.

"you haven't ruined anything, promise. i'm just a bit confused." you took a deep breath, still avoiding his eyes. you felt so embarrassed.

"i just...i wanted this to be perfect, i wanted us to have butterbeer and look at all the shops and dance and maybe i could finally-- or maybe you would--...i don't know. i'm sorry, sebastian." you let your head fall again, refusing to look him in the eye. he only squeezed your hand comfortingly, finally feeling like he understood.

"hey," he outstretched his hand to tilt your head upward, finally meeting your eye. "if you wanted this to be a date..." he gulped down hard, feeling sweat prick his forehead. "i wouldn't mind that at all." you looked instantly relieved as the tension left your body.

"really?" he nodded, relazing a bit himself.

"really. i'm sorry it took me so long to say something. i didn't think you were interested."

"sebastian, i wouldn't do half the things i do for you if i weren't interested." you admitted, making him laugh heartily.

"and i wouldn't hold your books and walk you to class every day. those damned things are heavy!" you returned the chuckle, finally feeling calm again. unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes was watching the two of you and relishing in their successfull efforts. sirona ryan, unofficial dessert fairy and matchmaker, sometimes needed to give students a gentle push in the right direction. and they thanked her for that.

reblog if you made it to then end!

lmk if you want a part 2 cause i would be down.

[serverusslaype]

Shameless, pt. 4

snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

hey again B) here is part 4 to Shameless, i hope you guys enjoy it, it gets a little soft at the end, and i mean a little. next chapter im hoping to explore reader and snape's relationship a little more, maybe some more tension im not sure... we shall see

thank you again for reading and supporting this fic with likes, reblogs, comments, everything! i really do appreciate it. :) love u guys

okaaaay LETS GOOO!

Another week and a half had passed and it was now a bitter and cold midweek morning. Since that interaction with Snape in the dungeons, you hadn't seen much of him since, nor really spoken to him. He'd rarely come to dinner in the Great Hall in the evenings, let alone breakfast or lunch. You were a little disappointed with this considering he'd given you permission to use his first name, it felt like he was allowing you into his space. Or at least, that's what your overactive mind was thinking. You thought about it deeper as time went on, and you'd reached the conclusion of it just being a professional thing. It bothered you a little, of course, considering how you felt about him.

You'd just finished teaching a class of fifth-years, preparing them for a mock test on Monday. The lesson was rather smooth-going, apart from having to tend to a student's finger after they were bitten by a fanged geranium. After the whole debacle on your first day back teaching at Hogwarts, you were rather glad that only a bitey flower had gone rogue in this morning's lesson.

Presently, you were currently strolling to the Great Hall, dressed in rather nice, muted yellow-gold robes. You were always proud to represent Hufflepuff colours, you took pride in being sorted in that house after all. The mood at Hogwarts was a little low and cautious, considering students were turning up Petrified at every other corner you turned. Luckily, you had not come across one yet, you didn't think you'd be able to stomach it.

The Dueling Club was due to begin today, with Lockhart hosting it. You'd also heard that a teacher had agreed to help Lockhart with the beginning demonstration. Intrigued, of course, you couldn't miss one of your colleagues shooting a spell towards the bane of your existence.

So here you were, standing to the side in the Great Hall, watching the hustle and bustle of students and teachers eagerly awaiting for the show to start - this is Lockhart we're talking about. A table had been set up in the middle of the Hall, a pretty blue and gold tapestry draped over the top of it, dotted with astrology art. Students surrounded the table, giggling and talking excitedly about what could happen. Or, what could possibly go wrong? you pondered, smiling to yourself.

Soon enough, the man in question had hopped up onto the table. "Gather round! Gather round!" Lockhart's screeching voice reached your ears as you watched him strut across the table, one arm gesturing theatrically at the students. "Can everybody see me?" He questioned, looking at the students with bright eyes. Unfortunately, yes, you thought. "Can you all… hear me? Excellent." Lockhart said, quickly spinning on his heel, the cape attached to his bodice twirling with him elegantly. "In the light of the dark events of recent weeks, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Dueling Club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves; as I myself have done on countless occasions."

You fought against a laugh in the back of your throat, choosing to cough lightly instead. Yeah, remember that time you couldn't handle a classroom full of little pixies? You rolled your eyes and folded your arms against your chest.

"For full details, see my published works." Lockhart added rather arrogantly. Was this guy serious? Merlin, he loved himself far too much. The famous author then proceeded to whip his cape off, throwing it into a gaggle of fawning teen girls. The gasped with excitement, their hands flying up to grab a hold of the piece of clothing.

"Let me introduce… my assistant," Lockhart began, pointing at the opposing side of the table with an open hand, his other one resting valiantly on his opposite hip. You reached up onto your tiptoes in a poor attempt to see what teacher he'd roped into this. Professor Sinistra, perhaps? Or even- "Professor Snape!" He exclaimed.

Your jaw dropped. There was no way in hell you'd heard that right. Before you could second-guess yourself, said wizard began trailing up the stairs to the table with a gloomy look on his face, his arms folded uncomfortably tight against his chest. As he reached the top, he let them unfold, placing them at his side, wand in hand. You noticed he wasn't wearing his cape too.

As Severus walked down the table, you couldn't help your eyes as they glided over his figure, getting embarrassingly distracted by how good he looked in his tight, form-fitting black robes. You had to force yourself to look away as you felt yourself falling victim to his alluring appearance, a searing hot blush now creeping up your neck, heading towards your cheeks. Gods, he didn't even do anything but take his cape off and you were blushing like a teenage school girl.

"He has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry," Lockhart went on, glancing at the children who were leaning over the edge to eagerly glance at Snape. Surely, there was no way he willingly agreed to this, but then again, maybe he only agreed to it to have the legal ability to cast a spell on him. "You'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him. Never fear." Lockhart professed rather over-confidently, deafening arrogance dripping from his words. You knew Snape was a very good duellist after hearing rumours during your time at school in Hogwarts, so you were confident that he'd dominate Lockhart. At least, that's what you were hoping.

The two wizards walked towards each other, stopping just shy of a foot away. They drew their wands, whipping them up to their own respective faces, before whipping them back down in one quick motions, a sharp swish emitting from the way it sliced through the air. Severus and Lockhart spun around, turning to walk five paces in the opposite direction. Once they were in position, they turned around once again to face each other.

"One, two, three!" Lockhart exclaimed, prompting Severus to draw his wand up at the speed of light. Before Lockhart has a chance to cast anything, the Potions Master was two steps ahead.

"Expelliarmus!" Severus commanded, a bright white light shooting from the tip of his wand, hitting Lockhart square in the chest and sending him flying backwards. Your hand flew to your mouth to muffle an amused laugh as you watched Lockhart fly through the air, a cry of pain escaping his lips as his back thudded against the table.

As you looked back to Severus, you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Though you had hardly spoken since, it was hard not to feel impressed. The rumours were true, then, you thought, your smile widening. The wizard in question suddenly caught your eye, and you felt your lungs spasm. You had to suck in a breath to compose yourself as your legs tingled.

You nodded at him, wiping the awestruck smile off your lips and pursing them awkwardly instead. To your surprise, Severus acknowledged you back with a nod too. He turned his attention back to Lockhart, who was currently scrambling to get back to his feet. Your cheeks burned at the unforeseen encounter and you felt yourself becoming a little giddy from it. Gods, you really were like a little school girl with a crush.

Fuck. You couldn't understand how you could go from screaming your lungs out at Severus to possibly having a civil relationship with him - how does that even work? Though, you swiftly reminded yourself how that could quickly change, you were well aware of who he was.

"An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind me saying, it was pretty obvious, er, what you were about to do. And if I had wanted to stop you, it would have only been too easy." Lockhart scoffed, strutting back to stand in front of Severus, his gimmicky grin making another appearance on his irritating face. The Potions Master stood nonchalantly, clasping his hands together in front of him. You had to give it to him, he had that poker face down rather well - something you were a little envious of.

"Perhaps it would be prudent, to first teach the students to block unfriendly spells, professor." Severus said rather harshly, his tone of voice judgmental. He was totally valid for feeling that way, and for once you found yourself questioning Dumbledore's reasoning as to why he had hired such a useless and clumsy wizard. Surely, someone as wise as him could see through this man's pathetic and hopeless act? Maybe he was just desperate for someone to fill the position. Lockhart looked scared for once, his once confident grin fading as Severus stared him down, a sarcastic smile gracing his face for a split second.

"An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape." The famous author exclaimed enthusiastically, spinning on his heel to walk the opposite way of him. "Well… let's have a volunteer pair. Erm.. Potter, Weasley, how about you?" Lockhart gestured towards the boys. Ron's face was a picture, he looked awestruck, almost shocked to see that he'd been picked. Harry's face, however, was more fitting.

"Actually, I was thinking Professor L/N could stop lurking in the shadows and come and showcase her impressive range of skills." Severus declared, his rather loud yet deep and intimidating voice echoing throughout the Great Hall. You almost choked on your tongue, did he really just say that? As you looked up at him, Severus tried to hide the amused smirk that was undoubtedly slipping onto his smug face; his hand outstretched to gesture to you. You wiggled your jaw at him, clearly unhappy with what he'd just done. You weren't great at defence, but you knew how to protect yourself with the bare minimum.

"I highly doubt a professor of Herbology would be able to handle me in a duel, I'm afraid, Professor Snape." Lockhart laughed wholeheartedly, the tiniest hint of worry in his tone. Oh, really, is that how it is, Lockhart? Your jaw ticked at his outrageously offensive comment. Now, you really did want to Expelliarmus his ass to Azkaban. Snape continued smirking. He could hardly contain himself. This was perfect. He knew how easy it was to irritate you - he'd definitely had his fair share.

"Certainly, Severus." You called out calmly, watching the gaggle of students in front of you turn around to stare at you. As your eyes met with Lockhart, a flash of fear wiped across his face. That only spurred you on more. Your heels clacked against the floor cutting through the silence in the hall as you walked towards the end of the table that Severus had climbed up. As you reached the stairs, you held up your robes, careful not to trip.

Suddenly, a large and pale hand appeared in your face. Your brows furrowed together in slight confusion, before softening as they saw who it belonged to. You bit your tongue as you tried impeccably hard not to blush in front of half of the school. Graciously, you took Severus's hand lightly, watching how it swamped your smaller one, allowing him to help you up the steps. He was six-foot-one, possibly six-foot-two, after all. Once you were standing on top of the table he released your hand, to your dismay of course, but you didn't show it. There was a bigger thing at stake currently - handing Lockhart's ass to him.

You saw the author clench his jaw harshly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. You couldn't help but paint an innocent smile on your face. Behind you, Severus stepped backwards, allowing you to move past him and towards Lockhart. You nodded at him, keeping your narrowed eyes trained on the strawberry-blonde liability in front of you.

The two of you walked towards each other, stopping in the middle of the table once again. "Wands at the ready." Severus said, trying his best to hide how entertaining he was finding this. You and Lockhart drew your wands, flicking them up to your face again and whipping them down to your sides with a sharp whoosh. You met each other's glaring eyes.

"Hello, friend." You muttered to him quietly, an innocent yet threatening smile gracing your lips. Lockhart's face might have seemed confident and prepared, however his terrified eyes painted a different picture. He was rightfully worried, you still had a lot of unreleased resentment towards him.

"Professor L/N, you are the attacker and Lockhart, you are the defender, obviously." Severus stated.

You and Lockhart turned around and walked forwards five paces, before turning around again. "One, two, three!" Severus called, his eyes widening a tad, eager to see the outcome of his proposition.

"Everte Statum!" You exclaimed, beating Lockhart at his own game. A string of pale pink light shot from the tip of your wand, landing square in the middle of Lockhart's chest. Your eyes were glued onto him as he flew backwards once more, his body flipping through the air like a gymnast - though a lot less graceful. He landed with a muffled thud, a short cry slipping from his mouth. Behind you, Severus was slowly losing his composure, letting a small huff of air escape his lips as he watched you, amused at the scene. He was impressed with your ability, and in his mind he pondered curiously about whether you'd duelled before.

Gasps and laughs erupted from the students surrounding you, though a handful of them also looked worried for Lockhart's wellbeing.

"Not bad for a Herbology professor, methinks." You smiled proudly, clasping your hands together in front of you as you waited for your opponent to climb to his feet again. You half-turned to glance back at Severus, prompting an approving nod from him, the corner of his lips quirking, teasing a small smile. You hummed quietly to yourself as you looked away, returning your attention to Lockhart, your cheeks tinting pink from the eye contact with Snape.

"I believe you owe Professor L/N an apology, professor." Severus said from behind you, quite smugly. You poked your tongue into your cheek, glancing at the floor in front of you to pull yourself together. This whole ordeal was sending you into overdrive. You knew the only reason that Snape was supporting you was because you shared a mutual dislike for Lockhart, but it still felt good to have his approval, perhaps even his attention. You could feel your heart pick up in pace as you thought back to the closeness you and him had shared during those heated, intense bickers.

"I should not have underestimated you, Professor L/N." Lockhart reluctantly said, his hand gently rubbing his behind, clenching his jaw as he stared at you and Snape. You smiled bitterly at him, nodding once and making your way back towards the Potions Master. As you neared him, he leaned towards you, catching your eye. Your breath hitched slightly.

"Nicely done." Severus muttered to you, another tiny smug smirk tugging at his lips. You sucked in part of your bottom lip momentarily before allowing a composed smile to grace your features. "I'm impressed." He added, making your head spin. You swallowed thickly. Gods, you needed to get out of here now if you wanted to leave with at least a shred of your dignity.

"Thanks." You barely managed to keep your voice steady as he leaned away from you, holding his out his hand again for you to take. You took it, praying to Merlin above that your shaking knees didn't give way to you as you carefully stepped down the stairs.

Snape arched a brow at you, his eyes narrowing slightly in a glare, silently reprimanding you for saying such a thing. How could you forget? 'Do not thank me', his words rang in your head as you let go of his hand. As much as you wanted to stay, you weren't sure your heart could take much more of this.

Fuck, maybe that hateful relationship the two of you shared previously was the better option. There was no way you were surviving this year in such close proximity to Severus.

"Don't touch that please, Mr Finnigan." You sighed softly, catching a glimpse of Seamus attempting to reach towards the head of a potted Mandrake. "Not until I say so, and you will see why." You added warningly, watching him reel himself back, a look of slight fear on his face. You smiled gratefully at him. "So, as I was saying, today you will be learning how to handle Mandrakes, and what their uses are." A few curious mutterings came from the students as you stepped forwards, flicking your wand upwards to float some protective earmuffs to each student in the class. They looked at them confusedly, reaching out to grab a hold of a pair.

"Who here can tell me the properties of the Mandrake root?" You asked as you watched the students collect their respective earmuffs, eyes flicking over to a particularly eager Hermione Granger. "Yes, Miss Granger?" You smiled, linking your fingers together.

"Mandrake, or Mandrogora is used to return those who have been Petrified to their original state. It's also quite dangerous, as the Mandrake's cry is fatal to anyone who hears it." Hermione said confidently, widening your smile. She was definitely a bright student.

"Brilliant, ten points to Gryffindor." You nodded, glancing at all of the students. The Gryffindor students all grinned at the sound of your words, giving Hermione an excited nod of thanks. "Now, as our Mandrakes are still only seedlings, their cries won't kill you yet, but they could knock you out for several hours, hence the earmuffs I have supplied you all with." You said sternly, hoping each and every one of the students were listening. You weren't particularly fond of paying the infirmary a visit today. "For your own safety, you will need to wear these. So please, can you all put them on right away?" You asked politely, feeling a sense of relief as every student obeyed you. "Make sure the flaps are tight down, too." You added sternly, noticing some students had just sloppily placed them on. Said students readjusted their equipment.

"Lovely, now watch me closely." You said, turning your attention to the potted Mandrakes in front of you. "Now, you grasp it firmly," you instructed, fingers grabbing on tightly to the top of the plant, "you pull it sharply out of the pot, like so." Instantly, the high-pitched wailing of the young Mandrake filled the greenhouse, making some of the students squirm out of fright. You couldn't help but smile at them; you remembered the first time you'd experienced the shrill wail of a Mandrake seedling in this very greenhouse. "Okay? Now, you dunk it down into the other pot and pour a little sprinkling of soil to keep him warm." You explained, doing as you said, shovelling handfuls of soil into the new pot with the crying Mandrake seedling inside of it.

Suddenly, the sound of a student groaning caught your attention. You looked up, spotting Neville Longbottom's eyes rolling into the back of his head as he fell backwards, fainting. You sighed. Well, nothing is perfect.

"Mr Longbottom has obviously been neglecting his ear muffs." You pursed your lips, casting a sympathetic gaze his way. It always seems to be Longbottom in trouble. Amused snickers and inquisitive 'oh's broke out for a quick moment before you shut them down with a sharp shush.

"He's just fainted, ma'am," Seamus Finnigan protested, glancing between the unconscious boy and yourself. You nodded at him, holding up a light hand to reassure him.

"He'll be okay, Mr Finnigan, just make sure you don't step on him." You said, inhaling softly, turning your attention back to the whole of the class. "Right, off you go, there's plenty of pots to go around," You gestured to the table in front of you, observing the students carefully. "Grasp the Mandrake, and pull it up sharply like I demonstrated." A chorus of crying and shrieking Mandrakes reached your ears as you observed the class repeat your demonstration and you grimaced slightly at the raucous plants. You forgot how loud these little things were in groups. "Careful, Mr Malfoy, don't-" You sighed again, watching helplessly as he stuck his finger into the mouth of one.

Merlin, give me strength, you pleaded, watching him glare at the Mandrake seedling as he ripped his bitten finger out of it's mouth.

"Professor," came a voice to your right, capturing your attention, "You were great at duelling earlier." A blonde girl with big, blue eyes said. Luna Lovegood.

"Ah, thank you, Miss Lovegood." You smiled at her gratefully. "I'm not usually one to duel, however," You paused for a moment, pondering on your words. These were students you were talking to, so you had to be cautious with what you said. "However, I should really be thanking Professor Snape." You finished with a coy smile.

"He totally likes you, professor, didn't you see the way he helped you up the steps?" Another student called out, inducing some giggles from the girls. You rolled your eyes at them, quite positive that they were just pulling your leg.

"Let's not be hasty, now," You laughed lightly, frowning at their words. "I can tell you now that Professor Snape and I just about tolerate each other. The only reason he helped me up those steps was out of pure chivalry, I can assure you." You felt your cheeks begin to burn as your mind reeled back to earlier this morning, thinking about the way your hand felt in his, and how he looked at you after you had duelled Lockhart.

You cleared your throat and your mind, focusing back on the task at hand. "If I'm honest, I don't believe Professor Snape is capable of producing such feelings for a woman." You added absentmindedly, your tone a little bitter. A chorus of gasps and ooh's reached your ears, reminding you that you were in the presence of students - students that like to talk. "I didn't say that… don't… don't tell him I said that…" You groaned, fingers flying up to grasp the bridge of your nose in stress.

Fuck. You really needed to stop talking without thinking. That was another thing Severus had said to you a couple weeks back at the beginning of the year, no? You were still the same silly girl that didn't think before she spoke? You hated how you were proving him right, especially since you'd denied and protested it.

There was a beat of silence as you stared at the Mandrake seedlings in front of you, your mind floating back to when he was so close to you, his intoxicating smell of smoke, books and sweet wine invading your nostrils. The way his hauntingly dark eyes stare so deep into yours, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly out of anger.

"You're blushing, professor!" An amused student called out, pointing at your burning cheeks as he pulled you out of your daydream. Merlin, these kids were distracting you. Definitely not helping.

"Alright, alright, that's enough chit-chat, ladies and gentlemen, back to work, please." You shook your head, trying to ignore the tightening knot in your stomach. A few bashful giggles erupted in front of you. "I want all of these Mandrakes repotted by the end of the lesson, please."

Soon enough, the bell tolled and your students had done very well, apart from Longbottom, of course. You'd sent an owl to the infirmary to notify Madam Pomfrey of Neville's state. You assured her that he would wake in a few hours. How was this boy continuously finding himself in such situations? Severus was right. Again.

A quiet groan left your lips as you collapsed into your chair behind your desk, eyes glued thoughtfully to a beautiful, singular white lily that you had potted and placed as a decoration on your desk. You were just about to relax into your chair and open up a book to read for an hour or so when you heard Professor McGonagall's worried voice over the intercom.

"All students are to return to their dormitories immediately. All teachers to the second floor corridor." She said hurriedly, causing a worrisome look to stir on your face. This was serious, Minerva had never requested something like this before in your time teaching and learning at Hogwarts.

What had happened now?

part 5

part 4, done and dusted bitches B)

i hope you enjoyed reading, and thank you so much to everyone that has supported this through likes, reblogs and comments!! i appreciate every single one of you. honestly. much love to you guys.

if you would like to be added to the taglist please don't hesitate in leaving a comment below! i'll be happy to :)

taglist:

@a-laufeyson

@emilynissangtr

@livillain00

@meowskii

@nooneeveryonenoone

@vesperbatty

@biggest-simp-eversposts

for the last two users i've tagged, i couldn't remember whether you said you wanted to be tagged or not, so i apologise in advance for the notification

[luvlyhyunjin]

Carousel┃H.HJ SMAU

Eleven- Why is it always her?

(a/n: i was so excited about this part i had to post it as soon as i was done writing :D Enjoy!!)

TW: MENTIONS OF WEIGHT, ED AND SEXUAL ASSAULT.

wc: 4.7k(?).

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You have had a bad morning. If not the worst in a while. Your mom had gone a little crazy again. That’s how it always has been, your relationship with her was never stable. And deep down you know it will never be. but hope had always found its way into your heart. Blooming endlessly on the days where she is a little quieter, a little timid. So when you woke up this morning and saw her in the kitchen, a glass of red wine in her hand and a string of curses falling from her lips directed at one of the poor maids. The little garden of hope in your heart died as quickly as it grew.

Nonetheless you were still excited about today, the idea of finally watching the plan you have been thinking about come to life makes you all giddy.

“All done?” You ask, arms crossed on your chest as you watch Wooyoung jog towards you. A bright smile on his face and hair a cute fluffy mess on top of his head “Yes Queen.” You smile back at him as he takes his spot on the right, next to you. Leaning his head on your shoulder. He’s panting, trying to catch his breath “Good boy.” You untangle your arms, bringing your palm and caressing his cheek lovingly. And just like a cute puppy there’s a light pink tinting his cheek that he tries to hide, chuckling as he buries his head in your shoulder further.

“Are you a baby? Get off her.” Yeosang speaks from your left. Voice shamelessly dripping with venomous jealousy and a glare so dark if Wooyoung wasn’t so familiar with Yeosang harmless bullets he’d be running away by now.

“Your jealousy is showing again. Yeo.” Wooyoung spits back however with a lot less venom and more a teasing edge in his voice. He pushes it further by squeezing your arm a little harder, buries his face in your neck and watches out of the corner of his eyes as Yeosang rolls his eyes grumbling a ‘whatever’ under his breath. You end their bickering by linking your other free arm with Yeosang's “Thanks for coming Yeo, I know you hate these things.” And it’s true. Yeosang never participated in any of the little pranks you and Wooyoung liked to pull sometimes. So you were honestly surprised when Wooyoung greeted you this morning by your car with a grumpy Yeosang following right behind him.

He relaxes next to you, the few words dripping with so little sweetness seem to do the trick. "Anything for you, kitty." He replies, The frown immediately melts off his face and is replaced by a soft smile that he tries so hard to hide as well. Ducking his head as if you didn’t already catch it. Your heart can’t help but swell with harmless affection for the two boys.

“Are you sure everything is sorted out?” You ask again, eyeing Wooyoung beside you “Yeah we just wait for Yeji to appear, and the show shall begin.” He replies, eyes following the random students passing by and throwing glances at you. By now you were used to the attention, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. A pair of eyes following wherever you went happens so much that it became the new norm for you. Although the attention does seem to be intensified simply because you and your friends are never seen around campus. Or at least not as much as people would like. Usually preferring to stay indoors and away from too many prying eyes. But just for today’s show specifically you thought an audience wouldn’t hurt.

You admit your last work was sloppy, leaving evidence behind and showing up at the crime scene so shamelessly. It’s no wonder Hyunjin doubted you right away. Although he couldn’t link it to you directly but no matter how many times you denied it, it’s not gonna change the fact that it was you after all and you had foolishly gotten caught by him.

You felt the need to redeem yourself today even though your little prank is still too childish for your liking for now childish pranks are the only thing you're capable of pulling. You knew if you wanted to pull anything….hardcore. You will need Hyunjin to be somewhere far from her and that seems a little impossible now. Since for whatever reason they always seem to be stuck together.

Hyunjin is another problem, ultimately you don’t care what he thinks and you’ll keep denying everything he throws at you but that doesn’t change the fact that having him on your back constantly is annoying. And knowing him and how stubborn he is he won’t let it go until he proves it’s been you all along.

Which is why for today’s show you decided to step back, watching from afar and letting someone else do your dirty work. Nothing a little batting of your eyelashes and money couldn’t get. Wooyoung flirting did help too, he can be quite charming when he's not acting like a dork.

However, your biggest advocate is definitely that gossip account. If anything happens to Yeji and Hyunjin doubts you, you can simply blame it on his crazy fangirls. It’s not farfetched for Yeji to get targeted after being the rumored girlfriend of the prince of jyp himself.

“They’re here.” Wooyoung whispers, nudging you with his elbow. You follow where his eyes are looking and as he said there they are. Yeji and Hyunjin walking side by side.

You try not to focus on the way their hands are brushing, the way that Hyunjin looks so relaxed next to her. Blonde hair blown by the wind, he looks like a dream. A dream that you seem to have every single night and more than anything a dream that is always far away from your reach. Your heart twists painfully when Yeji laughs, throwing her head back she puts her hand on his shoulder, so casually. You can’t help but be taken back to when this was you. When you were the one walking next him, when you were the one he’s smiling at.

You don’t notice how hard your nails are digging into Yeosang’s arm until he moves it, instead taking your palm and intertwining your fingers together.

On your right, you watch Wooyoung signal to the girl he seduced earlier this morning to begin the show. She pulls up her hoodie, hiding her face behind big square glasses. Grabbing her tray that has a plate full of spaghetti sauce on and very little spaghetti on it. She makes a beeline towards Yeji. Keeping her head down and just like Wooyoung had instructed her to do she crashes right into Yeji. The contents of her plate ends up on Yeji from head to toe. Too obviously purposeful that it makes you cringe at the poor execution.

Both of the girls end up on the ground from how strong the impact of them colliding. Wooyoung starts chuckling from beside you and you can’t blame him. Yeji has sauce all over hair, dripping down the side of her and her light beige shirt is now colored maroon, she looks pathetic. Embarrassed as the students around them stop whatever they’re doing to look at them. A small crowd starts to form around them but not big enough to block your vision, wondering whispers of what's going being thrown around.

A short laugh escapes you at the sight, you have thought about it all night but seeing her in front of you like is so much more better than you could ever imagine. Wooyoung starts laughing harder and you nudge him “Shh!” you attempt to shush him with a wide grin fighting its way on your face. He purses his lips, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth “I’m trying.” He chokes out between giggles.

From this distant you can’t really hear what they’re saying but from the shaking of Yeji’s head, waving her hand around in dismissive manner you assume that she was getting apologies thrown at her.

What a stupid girl.

And just like you predicted Hyunjin is there next to her, worry evident in the furrow of his brows and his habit of puckering his lips in a manner akin to a pout that it’s adorable. It’s the same look he used to shoot your way whenever you got hurt back then. It hits you again how that could have been you. You had thought it all night, all the possible scenarios orf Hyunjin helping Yeji. The way he would react, what he would say and what kind of expression would he make.

You didn’t know why but you knew you had to prepare yourself for it. You told yourself if you thought about it long enough you won’t feel anything when it really happens. Yet seeing him there, crouched next to her still felt like a dagger was plunged into your heart. And you can't understand the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Your smile falters when again just like you predicted Hyunjin helps her stand up, a hand on her shoulder. He’s so much taller than her, so much wider that when he starts guiding her to what you assume to be the restroom. It’s like he’s shielding her from the curious and shocked stares around them.

They pass by you and Hyunjin doesn’t spare you a glance, doesn’t even notice you standing there and you don’t realize you were holding your breath until they’re out of sight. Were you waiting for him to notice you? Is that why you’re feeling hurt? Is that why you’re so bothered by the fact that he’s so busy taking care of Yeji to even notice you? But you knew this was gonna happen it's only common sense so why are you feeling this way?

Yeji had looked so pathetic, so hilariously embarrassed reeking of food yet you didn’t even feel an ounce of satisfaction because Hyunjin was next to her.

“Is your other bitch in place?” You ask Wooyoung who shoots you an offended look “She’s not my bitch.” Seeming to notice your sour mood and your dark gaze, he sighs “yeah she is waiting for Yeji in one of the stalls.”

“Good.” You reply, untangling your hand from Yeosang and start walking the same direction where Hyunjin and Yeji went “Where are you going?” Yeosang yells after you “Taking matters into my own hands. Don’t follow me.” You reply looking back at both boys to show them how serious you were being before continuing your route.

You knew you had to get this dagger out of your chest somehow. Which is why you had to talk to Yeji yourself. You don’t care if she rats you out to Hyunjin anymore. You just want this heavy feeling in your chest to be gone already. And if these childish pranks aren't doing the trick maybe talking to her directly would.

You thought you’d find Hyunjin waiting in front of the restroom for Yeji so when you get there you’re pleasantly surprised to find the halls empty. However when you twisted the doorknob open you didn’t expect to find both of them inside. And you for sure did not expect Yeji to be topless with only a black bra on, her tomato sauce covered shirt is thrown on the floor and Hyunjin’s jacket is now over her shoulder leaving him only in his plain white shirt.

She turns to look at you and her eyes are red with tears and if this was in any other situation you’d be gleaming with happiness. Heck maybe you will start laughing in her face just to watch her cry more. But your heart only grows heavier at the sight of Hyunjin cleaning her hair for her, wiping it hopelessly with tissues that definitely will not get that sauce out of it. You only grow angrier, sadder at the fact that she’s so casually topless and is surrounded with Hyunjin’s scent.

Your original plan was to come in here and unleash your anger at her, pull this stupid dagger out of your heart and plunged it into her instead, But you can’t do that. Not when Hyunjin is right there. So you knew you had to improvise.

Your nails start digging into your palms hard enough to draw blood yet you widen your eyes in fake innocence, form your lips into a pout and walk towards them. Ignoring the way Hyunjin’s eyes sharpen, gaze turning into a glare in contrast to the way he was softly looking at Yeji two seconds ago.

“What do you want Y/N?” His tone is harsh, full of venom and it’s not like you expected anything else. You ignore him “Are you okay Yeji?” you ask, feigning concern. A single tear starts rolling down her cheek, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. She looks pathetically weak. The laughing Yeji from minutes ago is long gone. And in a sick way a sliver of satisfaction makes its way up your stomach.

You lean closer to her, your hand brushing her arm. She flinches and that’s when Hyunjin pulls her towards him, his arm comes up between you as if it shield her from you “Don’t touch her.” He spits through gritted teeth. The satisfaction you felt dies right away and the same anger only builds up more at the way he’s treating you as if you were some kind of wolf that’s gonna eat his precious little pet.

But you control your composure “I’m just trying to help.” You tell him softly, looking up at him through your eyelashes but Hyunjin doesn’t even falter. The ice in his eyes remain as cold as if he sees right through your act.

“It’s okay, jinnie.” Yeji speaks out weakly from behind him, hand on his arms and you try your hardest to keep your eyes from looking down at it.

Jinnie? Just who this girl thinks she is?

“Are you okay Yeji? Do you need any clothes? I have an extra sweater in my car.” You ask when Hyunjin steps back and away from both of you. He keeps his gaze on you watching your every move and trying to analyze if you’re being sincere or if this is just another stunt you’re pulling.

“I’m okay, thanks for asking Y/N.” She wipes her tears, sniffling and pulls at Hyunjin’s jacket to cover herself with pink cheeks.

So she’s feeling shy around you but not around him? Just how much of her have he seen?

The questions roaming around your head are too suffocating.

“Should I go grab my sweater for you?” You tilt your head in an attempt to appear nicer, smiling at her and leaning down to her level since she’s a little shorter than you. but she avoids your eyes. Focusing on something on the floor. She opens her mouth to speak but Hyunjin beats her to it “She already has my jacket. She doesn’t need your clothes.” You glare back at him and you guys stare at each other silently “you expect her to walk around with your jacket only and nothing underneath?” he keeps quiet, keeps his expression blank and when you raise a challenging eyebrow at him, urging him to argue back. He tsks, looking away.

You straighten your posture. Pushing your hair back with your hand you let out a sigh “God was that girl blind? How could she not see you?” You try to make conversation feeling the tension grow thicker the longer the silence stretches. You try to not think about the fact that this tension is only present whenever you and Hyunjin are in the same room.

But you can’t help but wonder if he feels it too? Or was it one sided like everything you’ve ever felt for him?

“It’s okay. It was an unfortunate accident.” Yeji says with the same dismissive waving hands she was doing earlier. An innocent smile starting to tug at her lips as she takes some of the tissues they have piled up on the sink and starts wiping the remaining sauce on her hair.

You stare at her blankly. An unfortunate accident? It was so obviously on purpose you could tell from a mile away. Was this girl really this innocent and stupid or was she just pretending? For the first time ever you couldn’t tell.

You find yourself unable to say anything back. Your anger wavering and unstable. You look in the mirror only to find Hyunjin already staring at you. He doesn’t look away when you lock gazes in the mirror, doesn’t budge and instead you’re the one starting to feel overwhelmed by all the confusing emotions clashing inside of you. It's like overwhelming draining cycle of you getting angry only to end up sad and disappointed. It's like no matter how much you try to get your anger out, to feel better you end up feeling more miserable. Today was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to be out there with Wooyoung and Yeosang recalling the pathetic look Yeji had on her face and laughing about it.

But all these expectations die and burn into nothing as soon as you see them together and then you're left there to pick up the ash and wonder to yourself what any of this means.

You don’t realize the blue expression that takes over your face and you don’t realize how fast Hyunjin notices. How his eyes start to soften because in that small moment of vulnerability you subconsciously showed he saw flickers of the old you. The you that he had fallen for so effortlessly. His heart starts hammering in his chest and his own emotions battle against each other.

This is exactly why he hated seeing you, he hated how every time he saw you, you somehow were the same person he loved yet so different that it only built stupid hope inside of him. That maybe you weren’t some vicious and a horrible person and maybe the sweet and loving you from high school is still there somewhere. It only built stupid hope that latched onto him and squeezed any logical thinking he had.

He lets out a sigh, looking away from you and your pretty innocent eyes that only seem to drag him deeper into your darkness. He refuses to be swept away by you.

“I’ll wait for you outside okay, Ji?” he says patting on her shoulder, a friendly gesture that only turn your insides into knots twisting and twisting tighter when he passes by you. Shoulders brushing but he doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t even glare at you this time like you aren’t even worth any attention from him. The negative emotions take over your entire body and they start eating you from the inside.

Silence settles between you as Yeji continues cleaning her self, the only noise filling the room is the sound of running water that she soon closes “I’m sorry about Jinnie,” she speaks first, her fingers fidgeting with a piece of tissue “I heard a little bit about what happened between you two.” She says weirdly nervous. Maybe because she knows how sensitive this subject or maybe it’s the undeniable intimidation she feels towards you.

“Is that so?” Your tone is no longer dripped with cheap honey, instead it’s lifeless. Cold and perhaps that’s why Yeji finally looks at you, eyes wide and concerned. Is she scared she upset you?

“Hyunjin is not a bad person. He’s just a little hard to deal with.” She pathetically tries to explain as if you didn’t know Hyunjin first. As if you weren’t his first love, first kiss, first everything. You almost want to scoff at her. Something akin to disappointment and a lot like heartbreak pulls at every part of you when you realize none of it matters. You were first but you are nothing now.

“I know.” Is the only thing that manages to escape your mouth. You smile at her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. The bubbling anger you felt is no loner evident in your bones and you’re no longer seeing red, Instead the only thing you feel is sadness clawing at you. Suddenly the sight of Yeji crying and looking pathetic is no longer satisfying the more you remember how through it all Hyunjin was next to her. Hyunjin is kind to her, he takes care of her. Speaks to her so softly and it’s the complete opposite to the way he treats you. And for reasons you’ll never admit. It kills you.

Yeji smiles back at you awkwardly, seeming like she doesn’t know what to say. Your eyes flit across the stalls, you see one of the doors slightly ajar. Guessing that’s where Wooyoung's girl is. You decide not to interfere and let the rest of the play go as planned.

“Mhm is there something there?” Yeji asks innocently, turning to look at where you’re looking and you shake your head “I’ll let you be.” You tell her and she nods at you slowly with confusion written all over her face. You leave the restroom, closing the door you find Hyunjin waiting outside, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed. You share a short look before you start walking.

“what’s your deal?” He asks when you pass by him and you stop in front of him, turning to face him. Years of hardened tension seeps into the air around you immediately. You’re sure if you breath it in it’ll choke you.

“What?” you ask, tilting your head and looking up at him, and a strand of your dark hair falls over your face. And Hyunjin tries his hardest not to stare at you but you’re so pretty. So pretty it feels criminal. Fuck he was already fighting against the urge to stare at your thighs in that short little skirt but now that he’s face to face with you in so long. It’s hard to stop his eyes from trailing over your features, lingering a second too long at your plush lips. It's not like he didn't know you were pretty, you always had been. Always had this magnetic aura around you. But god the first time he saw you again was magical, he recognized you right away and even then you still stole his breath but in a different way. You had flourished in such a pretty flower, grown more into your feminine side. He felt bitter like the universe wanted to rub it in his face how much more beautiful you had become.

“What was that with Yeji just now?” his tone is nothing like his softening eyes, mean and monotone “I was just trying to be nice” you reply with faux pureness that the both of you know does not exist in you.

He straightens, keeps his eyes on you and you can tell he knows you’re lying. It’s not like you were trying that hard to hide it. A playful smile starts tugging at your lips but it vanishes right as quick as it comes when Hyunjin is taking a step towards you, you step back a little nervous but he keeps going until your back hits the wall. His arm stretch out and his palm is flat against the wall. Caging you. You’re breathless, startled and didn’t expect him to be all up in your space all of sudden.

“I don’t like these games you’re playing, Y/N” his eyes alight with pure hatred and another emotion mixed in there yet your heart hammers against your ribcage wildly, almost like it’s begging to be let out.

“I-I’m not playing any games.” You argue weakly, almost cringe at yourself for stuttering and if anything you just want to disappear because Hyunjin’s lips tilt in a smirk, suddenly taking in the situation you guys are in. He does admit that his inflated ego only grows at the sight of the unattainable Y/N blushing and avoiding his gaze.

“You seem a little nervous,” he comments sarcastically, tapping his index finger on your chin and you slap his hand away. Looking up at him with a glare that is not threatening one bit “You’re all up in my space I can’t breath.” You attempt to push him away with your hands on his chest, ignoring how hard it feels but Hyunjin doesn’t budge, Doesn’t move a single step and he keeps his eyes locked on you. Watching in amusement as you try to break from him. In that moment his mind runs wild and he can finally understand why Yeosang and Wooyoung call you kitty all the time. It suits you so well. You look just like cat fighting for their owner’s attention.

At the silence you look up at Hyunjin with a glare again, a string of curses dies on your lips when you notice that he’s unfocused. Instead his eyes are fixated on your thighs, the dark hatred in his eyes is slowly melting into lust and the lines are blurring between you two. You’re blushing, overwhelmed and confused by the way he’s acting but more than anything you’re confused by the flash of scalding heat that his stare sends through your body.

Your hands fall to your thighs, palms flat against them in a poor attempt to cover them up. Hyunjin notices, lets out a scoff and looks at you “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in you or your body.” His voice drips in mockery and your face burns in embarrassment and anger. You gather enough strength to push him again and this time he steps back, that same stupid smirk on his lips “Fuck off.” You grumble, pressing the back of your hand on your lips. Another poor attempt to hide your red face. Hyunjin can’t help but chuckle because he can’t take you seriously not when you look so much like an angry kitten. He couldn’t understand how he went from wanting to kill you to wanting to devour you in mere seconds. A part of him liked that though, he liked the fact that you always acted all high and mighty but was a blushing mess the moment he was a little too close to you.

If he knew how easy it was to break you he’d have tried this a long time ago.

Just then the door of the restroom busts open, slamming loudly against the wall and breaking whatever bubble the two of you were in. A girl runs out, almost tripping but picks herself right up and starts sprinting away. A disheveled Yeji follows, a panicked look on her face with Hyunjin’s now zipped jacket on her “H-hyunjin!” she starts crying and Hyunjin is by her side right away. Ignoring the fact that you were there again. Like he wasn't just staring at you like he wanted you moments ago “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he asks frantically, hands on her shoulders and eyes scanning her body “someone-“ she chokes on her tears, a sob wrecking through her body “someone was trying to take pictures of me while I was undressing” it all happens in a blur, Hyunjin yelling something in anger that you block out and then he’s running after the girl. While Yeji stands there crying. She looks at you and you don’t know what kind of expression you have on. But she’s terrified and for some reason in that moment you know she somehow figured out you were behind all of this.

You watch as she starts walking away, running after Hyunjin as well. You stand there and think about everything, in the end everything went perfectly according to plan. Everything happened exactly like how you imagined, just like how you and Wooyoung talked. You embarrassed Yeji in front of countless students, made her cry and if anything she seems scared of you now. It's exactly what you wanted yet you don't feel good at all. In fact your heart feels heavier than ever and there's tears threatening to fall the longer you stand there.

You can’t help but feel like a piece of trash that has been tossed aside for something better, something nicer.

That night when you’re back home, you find your mom in the kitchen another glass of wine in her hand and a mess of papers on the kitchen island in front of her “What’s all this?” you ask, walking to stand next to her.

“Did a background check on your father’s little….” She staring blankly at the wall, eyes empty “little side entertainment.” She finishes. It’s specially moments like these that make you feel sorry for her. She’s just a woman who fell in love with a man who didn’t love her back. How ironic. You think to yourself as you wrap your arms around her waist and hug her. Head resting on her shoulder. She doesn’t really move nor hug you back. You didn’t remember the last time she hugged you back.

“I’m sorry mommy.” You whisper softly, and she pats your hands in cold touches that are loveless “are you still following your diet, Y/N?”

You nod against her shoulder “Yes mommy.” She sighs, untangling herself from your embraces and drinks the remaining last bits of her wine “Her daughter weighs 2.5 kgs less than you, so we need to work hard yeah?” she says cupping your cheeks and looks at you for the first time today, you force a smile on despite the feeling of your heart breaking for the second time today “Yes mommy.” You reply like you always do and she never smiles back and her hands are always so cold but you don’t flinch “Good girl.” She compliments emotionlessly and she leaves you there, alone to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. You bite your lips to stop your tears from falling, telling yourself not matter how shitty you felt today you will not cry but then you look down at all the papers laid in front of you and despite all the expectations you had for today you didn’t expect a picture of Yeji to be smiling back at you.

Why is it always her?

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Synopsis: It girl, Queen Bee the most popular girl around campus Song Y/N was envied by everyone. She has it all, money, the looks and brains. After making a bet with her bestfriend Yeosang her life takes a turn to the worse, seeming to lose everyone around her she doesn't expect the only person to stick by her side to be her Ex-first love and long time enemy - Hwang Hyunjin.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Previous | Next

Masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Taglist: @annybah , @christopherisfoive , @realrintaro , @kkamismom12 , @nujeskz , @wolfietara , @luvvvash , @teenageshepherdpeachfan , @asiixc , @shyshyshytwice , @samhomo , @babrieeee , @nhyunn