#and if it's good then i can finally read more of huffs fantasy

[myspacebrat]

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩’𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙮?

𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙩 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: when your new boyfriend Steve accidentally stumbles upon your hidden diary filled with your biggest secrets and darkest fantasies, he asks his fraternity brother Eddie; a drug dealing metalhead to help him fulfill your biggest one.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, past fwb steddie, 90s au, fuck boy eddie, slight hurt/comfort, sexual tension, accidental outing (I swear he means good), oral (m receiving), throat fucking, dirty talk, unprotected p in a (m receiving), anal play (f receiving), unprotected p in v & dp in v, boy on boy action, dom eddie, filth filth filth, fluffs, longing.

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: just an idea that’s been rotting away in my brain that I had to write down… as always thank you to my beautiful girlfriend @xxhellfirebunnyxx and the babes @take-everything-you-can & @livosssblog for beta reading.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 7.4k

Date night with your new boyfriend Steve has turned into a regular weekend thing, although you had your eye on the pretty, brown haired boy all semester long, you had officially met three and half weeks ago while you were working your waitressing job at the on campus diner. He asked for your number and the two of you have been inseparable since.   

“Hey Steve, can you go grab my purse off of my desk in my room, please? I’m gonna use the restroom and then we can go.” You ask, making your way into the hallway of your apartment, you close the door to the bathroom behind you softly before going about your business. 

The brown haired boy in question walks into your bedroom and grabs your black leather bag off of your desk but before he turns to walk away, something hits his nike sneaker and bounces off, hitting the floor with a light thud.

“Shit.” Steve huffs under his breath as he bends down to retrieve the aforementioned object; it's a journal or maybe a diary? It’s splayed out on the floor, open to the very last page. Steve tries his best not to look, he doesn't want to snoop. He really, really likes you and doesn't want to give any reasons for you not to trust him so early on; but when his hazel eyes catch a glimpse of the words: “Deepest Darkest Fantasies” written in bold black lettering on the very top of the page, he can't help but to continue scanning over the rest. Words like “threesome”, “double penetration” and “guy on guy action” pique his interests. He’s no prude and has definitely had his share of gay action with a few of his fraternity brothers, one specifically that he had an ongoing friends with benefits situation with, so he’s not put off by it. What he is, is surprised, almost shocked that you would be into something like that. Most girls he met weren’t and would cut a date short if you even so much as mentioned the word bisexual in their presence. 

He hears the bathroom door click open, so he quickly closes the diary and places it back onto your desk before grabbing your bag and booking it out into the living room where he sits on a bar stool, doing his best to look as if he’d been waiting for you the whole five or so minutes. 

“You ready to go?” You ask with an excited smile that Steve just wants to kiss off of you, he already thought you were his perfect dream girl but something about what he found in your diary made him that much more attracted to you; perhaps it was the feeling of someone finally accepting every part of him. 

After a nice dinner date at your favorite sushi spot and one too many saki bombers later, you're both stumbling into your apartment, heated lips clashing together like they were set off by some sort of magnetic force. Deep, passionate kisses shared between you, as if they were going out of style. Hands roaming over each other's bodies before finding their permanent spot in the other's soft tresses.

“Need you so fucking bad, baby.” Steve whispers to you through tender kisses.

“Mmm, take me to my room, big boy.” You’re finally able to huff out as his lips move in a sloppy motion, down your neck. 

The chosen pet name makes Steve tense, the kisses he was just placing on your collar bone come to an immediate halt.

“Everything okay?” You ask as you gently scratch at his scalp with your long fingernails, making him shudder and groan with delight. 

“No, yeah everythings fine.” He scoops you up into his arms, carrying you to your bedroom and tossing you onto your bed. The stuff he saw in your diary, plus the mention of the nickname his fraternity brother/ex friends with benefits calls him, kind of set his brain on fire with thoughts of the three of you together. 

Things didn't work out with Eddie in the way Steve had first wanted them to, he was very much into partying and sleeping around whereas Steve had dreams of settling down; he had his party and meaningless sex phase for most of high school, it was no longer fun for him and when he voiced that to Eddie, the metalhead laughed and said he didn't think he’d ever settle down, which was a silent blow to Steve’s heart. He has since gotten over it and moved on all while staying friends and being roommates, but that other part of his brain was enticed at the idea of having both of you at the same time. Maybe he’d have to introduce you to Eddie and let it go from there, let you choose whether you’d want them to be the ones to make that fantasy come true.

Steve loses his train of thought when you start to remove your clothes, then he's on you again; kissing you with an intense passion that almost knocks the air from your lungs. 

“God, im gonna fuck you so good.”  

“Come on Eddie, It’s a goddamn threesome! When have you ever turned one of those down, huh?” Steve deplores as he paces in front of his half naked roommate who’s sat comfortably in a slouched position with his head thrown back onto a saggy, discolored couch cushion.

“I'm sure I've turned one or two down in my day.” Eddie says with a smirk as his eyes follow the honey eyed boy, whose red sox cap sits backwards over that perfect quiff of brown hair.   

“Oh please, you fucked those twin sisters last month and had no moral fucking compass then.” Steve quips, exhaling the built up of irritation out through his nose.

“Well, that was just fun. Believe it or not Harrington, twins are a very niche kink and I won't sit here and listen to you kink shame me, kay?” The smirk on Eddie’s face grows to full capacity when Steve throws him a pissed off look as his hands fall to his hips, in his signature Steve stance.

“C’mon, at least meet her first before you make an indefinite decision, Eds.” Steve says while pulling out the big guns; the nickname mixed with a bat of his long lashes has his roommate instantly folding, though not without contempt.

“Fine, I’ll meet your little girlfriend and decide whether I wanna fuck her or not.” Eddie huffs out as if he’s doing Steve some big nuanced favor. “Now move, you're blocking the Tv.” The metalhead declares as he tosses an overstuffed throw pillow at the former jock. 

“You’re not fucking her, we’re fucking her!” Steve shouts as he smacks the pillow out of his face, letting it plop to the floor before he turns around and makes his way to his bedroom to think of the best way to bring this up to you without having to reveal that he accidentally read your diary. 

“So, we’re meeting your friend here?” You ask your boyfriend as he opens the door to the sports bar for you before ushering you inside with a light slap to your ass.  

“Mhm, my good friend and roommate, Eddie. He’ll be here soon.” Steve hoped he wasn’t being too obvious, although he did doubt you’d catch on without any significant reason to. His nerves were getting the best of him and he felt guilty for doing this behind your back, maybe he should talk to you about this first? But, he figured you could still just meet Eddie on a friendly basis without the added pressure of possibly choosing him to be a third.

Once the hostess sits you down at your table, an unfamiliar head of fluffy waves comes bounding through the crowd, his eyes scanning the restaurant before falling on Steve, who immediately stands up and waves a hand above his head, making Eddie roll his eyes at Steve’s dramatic gesture. 

“Sup Harrington,” The metalhead greets before his eyes fall to you, sitting meekly with your hands in your lap and a nervous, tight smile on your face. Eddie couldn't be bothered to take his eyes off of you. He was stunned and it wasn't because he didn't think Steve could pull such a beautiful girl. No, obviously king steve could get whoever he wanted, this was because he too found you unbelievably beautiful and something that Eddie learned early on in his friendship with Steve was that they did not have the same taste in women which is why they never tried for a threesome before, but you oh your were the exception.     

After the drinks were flowing through everyone’s veins and the pizza and wings had been devoured, conversation started out light-hearted with lots of banter between the boys. It was clear they were very good friends; how good was still up for debate but you could clearly see that they cared for each other which warmed your heart because Steve deserves all the love in the world. You had never met anyone like him and were grateful he essentially fell into your lap or more so came into your diner and asked for your number.

“So, what other fantasies were in this diary?” Eddie smirks as he looks between you and Steve with a playful, mischievous look in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry?” You ask, confused about the question but your heart drops when you see Steve shut his eyes and bow his head as if Eddie just divulged a big secret and by his reaction you were pretty sure he did. 

“Oh, was I- did she not- fuck.” Eddie’s shoulders slump and his smile fades as he looks at you and Steve with regretful eyes. 

“You read my diary?” You ask, turning towards Steve as your voice tumbles out so sullen and soft, making both of their hearts ache. 

“I’m-I’m sorry baby, I was gonna tell-” he begins before he’s being cut off by a now pissed off version of you. 

“Wait, so this wasn’t me just meeting one of your friends because you genuinely wanted me to, this is because of the things I wrote in my diary? What, were you trying to set up some kind of threesome?” You scoff as both boys look down into their laps, you can feel the shame rolling off their backs and you couldn’t help the betrayal you felt. 

“I’m gonna go, I need some time to think.” You say abruptly standing from the booth, but before you could take a step, they’re both stopping you.

“No, baby just let me take you home.” 

“I can drive you home, princess.” 

They say in unison, and as much as you wanted to stay and possibly entertain this thought of having a threesome, your humiliation wins over and you just need to get as far away from the both of them as possible. 

“I’m fine, I’ll talk to you later.” You snap before making your way out of the restaurant, but instead of calling for a taxi like you probably should have, you impulsively decide to begin your three mile walk of shame back home. 

You’ve been stewing in your own feelings of treachery for two days, and although you're still upset; thoughts of the frizzy haired metalhead haven’t left your mind. If it came down to really having this fantasy you have laid awake many nights thinking about, fulfilled; would you really want it to be with him, or more importantly them? The burning in your lower belly and the need to snap your legs together, gave that answer away fairly quickly. 

As you settle onto your couch with your favorite spicy book in hand, the shrill ring of your house phone has you up within seconds. Your heart begins to beat frantically out of your chest at the thought of it being Steve on the other end, you weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive this whole mishap quite yet, even if you haven't stopped daydreaming about it.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out groggy, having not used it for hours as you’ve been cooped up in your apartment, feeling sorry for yourself about something that you were now questioning was as bad as you’ve made it seem. 

“Hey.” The voice that comes out over the crackle of the phone speaker isn't Steves but it is familiar to you in the sense that you’d just heard it not even three days ago.

“Eddie?” You question with disbelief. 

“Aw, you remembered princess.” You can hear his smug smirk through the red plastic you are now white knuckling.

“What’s up Eddie? Is Steve okay?” You ask, trying to politely move the conversation along. 

“I mean he hasn’t eaten for two days and has been sulking in his room if that's what you're wondering.” The new information pulls at your heart strings, you truly didn't think Steve would be too sad over your decision for space; and although what he did wasn't entirely okay, you still wanted nothing more than to run and comfort him. 

Eddie takes your silence as an excuse to keep going, “Um, well I was just calling to see if maybe I could come by and talk to you, please?” He breathes heavily into the speaker making you cringe at the loud crackle, you can hear the desperation to fix things in the tone of his voice. 

“Yeah sure, we can talk.”

It takes Eddie 20 minutes to get to your apartment after you'd given him your address and safe wishes, which seemed to have taken him by surprise. What was the big deal with telling someone to ‘be safe’?

The knock at your door has your palms clammy, you couldn't deny the idea of seeing Eddie and being alone with him, made you nervous. 

Maybe you weren’t as innocent in this as you thought. 

“There she is.” The smile that graces the long haired boy’s face along with the rasp in his voice instantly has goosebumps spreading over your heated skin. 

“Hi, um c-come in.” You stutter, moving from the doorway, your hand gripped tight on the doorknob in order to close it behind him. 

“Nice place.” He says while his eyes roam over the living room, the wide smile never leaves his face until his chocolate orbs find yours. 

“Thanks.” You give him a half smile before you're sitting back down on your couch. You bring your slouch sock clad feet up and tuck them underneath you, protectively as if some kind of defense mechanism. Eddie can’t help but think you’re the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

“Sit. So what did you wanna talk about?” Your voice slightly trembles as you motion for the metalhead to sit down in the spot beside you. 

“I came here to tell you that Stevie means well, he really would never do anything to hurt you. I swear. I’ve never seen him so upset over someone.” Eddie’s words come out in a jumbled panic as if he’s anxiously trying to get you to see things from another perspective, and before you can get a word in edgewise, he’s continuing. “He just thought it’d be a good idea since me and him used to bang, so I'm familiar, ya know? And he really wanted to make this ‘fantasy’ come true for you.” The way he so casually drops the bomb that him and Steve used to fuck, causes your eyes to grow as wide as saucers.

“Oh fuck! Did you not know that either? Jesus Christ nobody tells me anything, I-Im just gonna shut the fuck up.” He huffs a nervous laugh before running his hands through his brown waves that sit tousled down his mid back.

You wanted to scoff and say yeah, same. But decided against it once you caught a glimpse of his big glassy doe eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just thought because he came to me with the threesome thing and the shit about you watching us fuck around, I-I guess i just thought you had to at least know. I’m- fuck he’s gonna be so pissed at me if you break up with him over this.” Eddie's head falls into his hands before he begins to shake it out of pure disappointment in himself. 

“Hey, I'd never break up with someone over their sexual past.” You say before scooting closer to his body and wrapping your arms around his torso to comfort him, the action causes your face to snuggle in close to his leather jacket covered chest that smells like a mixture of musky cologne, weed and cigarette smoke.

“God, you're such a special girl, you know that? I can see why he likes you so much.” Eddie mutters as his hand rubs gently in an up and down motion on your back.

You can’t help but to snuggle in deeper, as his soft touch and low purr of his voice, now lulls you to absolute comfort. You had never felt so safe in any other man's arms other than Steve’s, and the revelations from that fact and the one of Eddie and Steve having already had sex, causes the flames to lick up throughout your body and you already know the answer to whether you want them to be the ones to provide you with this fantasy. 

“I wanna do it.” You say without much thought, the words are slightly muffled by Eddie’s jacket but he hears you loud and clear. His eyes widen in surprise as you look up at his face from where your head sits shyly hidden in his chest. Fuck, you were really doing things to him. 

“Wanna do what, sweet girl?” He whispers down towards you before moving a stray strand of hair out of your face. He hopes you mean the threesome, but he’s not apposed to fucking you right here on your couch, steve be damned. But he immediately feels guilty at that thought. 

“Being with you and Steve at the same time.” You whisper as you blink up at him with a nervous look in your eyes.

“No, no. Say what you really want, princess. Go ahead.” Eddie says back, but this time with a more domineering edge. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip ever so slightly, before he’s rubbing it along your jawline. “You can do it for me, baby. Just say it.” 

His face is within inches of yours and you want to kiss him so badly but you also want to give him what he’s asking for. 

“I want you and Steve to use me and fuck my holes.” You purr back before bashfully biting at the plump skin of your bottom lip.

Eddie almost chokes on his spit, he was expecting you to say something along the lines of “I want you and Steve to fuck me.” But him and his cock weren’t prepared for “use me and fuck my holes.” Jesus fucking Christ. 

“It’s taking everything inside of me to hold back from kissing you right now, angel.” Eddie says as he tries to steady his breathing. “But we’ll save that for later, alright? Call Steve first and then we’ll go from there.” Eddie says before placing a sweet kiss to the top of your head. He stands up and bids you a farewell before awkwardly walking to your front door with a rock hard cock between his legs. 

“Hello-” Steve’s hoarse voice croaks out from the other end of the landline.

“Steve, baby? Can we talk?” 

You and Steve mutually agreed that your talk would be better to do in person, so he invited you over to the frat house, so you could sit down and talk with him and Eddie. Once you are ready to go, diary in hand. Your excitement from getting to see them, quickly turns to anxious nerves. 

This was all so new to you, you wondered if you and Steve's relationship would change? Or how things would be with you and Eddie? What if Steve and Eddie realize they have feelings for each other in the process and leave you in the dust? So many things you never had to think about when this was just your fantasy. 

Well you suppose those were all questions you could bring up to them once they were in front of you. You tried your best to not dwell on the unknown, although that was so much easier said than done. 

You pull up to the large brick house that sits on a huge grassy lawn. The fraternities greek letter badge sits proudly above the porch. You swallow down your nerves as you grab your bag and head towards the big iron gate that sits wide open, you walk through it leaving yourself no room to hesitate before climbing up the two steps towards the front door. 

You knock three times, crossing your arms over your chest when you glanced down and realized how much your cleavage was almost spilling from your shirt. 

“Come in!” A voice yells from the other side, making you freeze for a few seconds while a lump forms in your throat at the idea of just walking into someone else’s home. Before you can reach out towards the doorknob, it’s being opened for you and a set of sad, downturned hazel eyes meet yours. 

“Hey.” Is all he says before he’s ushering you inside. 

Once in, you can’t help but to look around. It’s huge and cleaner then you thought it’d be, considering it houses about a dozen or so guys. 

Steve can see the nervousness in your eyes, so he eases it by letting you know he was the only one home and that Eddie would be back any minute now. 

“Do you wanna sit in the living room or go up to my room?” Steve asks, as his head slightly perks up with excitement, more so hopeful than anything else. 

“Your room is cool.” You say with an awkward nod. 

His room was nothing like you’d expected, there were tons of posters all over the walls: cars, bands and naked girls were the theme. You figured it had to do with the excessive masculine facade you had to put on to be part of one of these fraternities.

Steve looks around with you and smiles sheepishly as your eyes meet a poster of two semi naked girls kissing, while one girl has her hand in the other girl's black panties.

You smile in amusement before taking a seat on his big bed, while Steve leans against his wooden desk directly in front of you. 

“I-Im so sorry, baby.” He sniffles, his sad eyes melting your heart as he continues. “I promise you, I didn’t go through your diary on purpose, it just fell and when I went to pick it up it was on that page, I-I just couldn’t look away after I seen what was in it, and that’s my fault, a-and I should’ve never went to eddie behind your back. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I just- being without you for these past couple days I realized that I-I love you. And I know we haven't been dating for very long but, I think I’ve known from the moment we stayed up all night on the phone the first very first time, I just knew then that I was gonna fall in love with you.” He unveils, making your breath hitch. 

“You love me?” You murmur hesitantly. 

“I do. So much, honey.” It’s so sincere, as if he didn’t even have to give it a second thought. 

You're up and rushing towards him within seconds, wrapping him up into a big hug. His arms instantly move to the small of your back and before you know it, he’s picking you up. He walks towards the bed, sitting down on the plush mattress before adjusting your legs to straddle his lap. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, baby. These lips, your voice, your beautiful smile. God, I drove myself crazy just thinking about you.” He confesses, and his low husky timber goes straight between your thighs.

“I missed you, too.” You utter as your hands play mindlessly with his brown locks. You look down into his hazel eyes from where you were sat, perched in his lap. “I love you.” The weight that's been removed from your chest with your revelation, feels euphoric. Especially when Steve's lashes flutter and a pretty smile begins to stir on his once saddened face.

Your boyfriend's fingertips dig into your waist as his grip tightens, holding you close to him in fear of losing you again. His desperation, palpable. 

“Fuck, you just made me the happiest man alive.” He whispers, a wide smile taking over his face as he snuggles his head, lovingly into your chest. 

“Steve?” You whisper back, hands never leaving his fluffy mane. 

“What is it, honey?” He asks, his eyes snapping back up to yours with curiosity. 

“I wanna do the threesome.” You quickly blurt, before cowering away when you noticed how wide his eyes had gotten. 

“Baby, n-no. You don’t have to do anything you're uncomfortable with. You can just keep it as a fantasy. If it’s something you’d like to do in the future, then we can talk about it then. I'm not gonna lose you again.” He sighs, closing the small gap between your bodies by possessively bringing you chest to chest with him, as his grip tightens to a nearly painful level, causing you to whimper. 

“I um, I know about you and Eddie.” You admit, feeling his body tense beneath you. The look in his eyes is a mixture of fear and longing.

“He told you?” It comes out sharper than he intended, but that wasn't for Eddie to confess. You were his, he should've been the one to tell you his secrets.

“Trust me, he didn’t mean to. He seemed to be just as in the dark about things as I was.” You tease gently. 

Steve’s eyes fill with regret at your words, “I know, and I’m sorry baby. So fucking sorry.” He murmurs into your skin before he’s attacking your chest with kisses. 

“I forgive you, Stevie.” You insist, silently trying to work up the nerve to say what you really want to say. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” The boy beneath you scrunches his face up in confusion. You take a shuddering breath before you continue. “You and Eddie together.”  

He sighs, eyes slightly darkening before he's  smirking up at you. “That get you goin’, pretty girl?” 

“Mmhm, I touched myself thinking about it.” Your confession has Steve’s eyes blowing wide with lust.

“Mmm, played with that pretty little pussy to the thought of what? Hm, me getting fucked?” He groans when you can’t help but to grind your now throbbing center against his growing erection.

Before things have a chance to heat up any further, Eddie pops his head in through the doorway, making you and Steve jump and gasp at the intrusion. 

“Sorry for interrupting.” Eddie says glumly, “should I uh, go?” He points his thumb behind his shoulder towards the door, but you can clearly see from the look in his eyes that the last thing he wants to do is leave. 

“No, c’mere.” You encourage but Eddie hesitates for a moment, before he begins taking a few steps over to you and Steve. He stands right behind you, making you beam at him from over your shoulder. 

“Princess over here was just telling me something very interesting.” Steve snickers up at the metalhead, who's looking down at both of you with intense affection. 

“Oh yeah? And what was that, pretty boy?” Eddie asks, his eyes never leaving the side of your face. 

“She said she touched her tight little cunt while she thought about you fucking me.” Steve’s once hazel eyes are now black and staring you down like a hungry predator.

“That true, sweet thing?” Eddie returns, before taking your chin between his fingers and bringing your face closer towards his, for a better view.

“Yes sir.” It slips out between your lips without much thought, but the men on either side of you groan in satisfaction. Now, you’re able to feel the metalheads hardening cock poke at your lower back. 

“Before we start, I um, I brought something.” You admit before hopping off of Steve’s lap and out of the perfect little sandwich they had created on either side of you. 

You dig through your bag that you had set down on Steve’s dresser, retrieving the object that brought you to this very moment. You turn back towards the boys, realizing their gaze hasn't left you since you first stood up. You clutch the black leather book to your chest as Steve and Eddie’s eyes follow you with curious mischief. 

“Want you to look through this together, so you can, maybe see some things I’d like to try, since we’re crossing one fantasy off the list.” You hold it out for one of them to take, Eddie moves quicker than Steve, eagerly ripping the diary from your hands. 

“Hey, she's my girlfriend.” The possessiveness in the honey eyed boy's voice, has you biting at your lip from how hot you find it.

“She’s ours tonight, big boy.” Eddie retorts, and you don’t want to admit how much the word ours, has your tummy swooping with excitement.

Eddie cackles at Steve's face before he’s taking a seat beside him, so close their thighs are touching.

“Let’s see here.” Eddie sings, as he quickly flips through the more boring pages of random writings and doodles. Until a page finally captures his attention. “Ah ha.” He says with a sly grin, as his finger follows after every word he’s reading. 

“Being dominated and degraded, huh?” The long haired boy beams up at you from beneath his lashes, as if he were seeing you in a new light. 

“Has Stevie ever done any of this stuff?” Eddie asks curiously, no judgment behind his words.

 You shake your head no while Steve stays silent, his cheeks pinkening in the process. 

“Yeah, baby boy’s more submissive, isn't he? Used to get so hard when I’d boss him around.” Eddie sighs as if in some far off memory. 

Steve’s not quite used to talking about being with a man in front of you or any woman, for that matter so his shoulders tense at Eddie’s confession. You quickly ease him by running your hand along his jaw, and up into his hair, before grabbing and tugging harshly, surprising both boys with the abrupt switch. 

“Is that true, baby? You like being bossed around?” Steve begins to stammer as his eyes grow glossy with desire. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna have a lot of fun with the both of you.” Eddie smirks as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

After the boys had taken their time kissing you, and getting you all worked up and whimpering for them. They began taking your clothes off. Both of them moaning when the fact that you hadn’t been wearing a bra or panties was revealed. 

Once their gawking and dirty words had stopped, you and Eddie began working on pulling all of Steve’s clothes off, leaving you both stark naked; all the while Eddie was fully dressed in his black and leather. 

“Get on your knees, both of you.” He demands, and you and Steve obey with no questions asked; like good little pets. Eddie was so achingly hard from just that thought alone. 

You and your boyfriend worked together to get the metalheads belt and jeans undone and down his creamy thighs. His hard cock bobbing out between yours and Steve's face. Your eyes widen at the size, but Steve pays no mind to it; reminding you that they’ve already done this, you're the one that's new here. To your surprise, there was no jealousy in that conclusion. 

“Open.” Eddie demands again, leaving you and Steve to submit to his every order, and you both do without any hesitation. Opening up your mouths and lulling your tongues out in the process, leaving Eddie to slap his fat leaking tip against your wet and pink, pillowy muscles.

The long haired boy above you, growls as his eyes take in the sight before him. You and Steve are on your knees for him with your tongues out, allowing him to slap his throbbing cock against them. He’s had his share of threesomes, but none have ever made him feel like this. 

Steve finally has enough of the teasing, eagerly wrapping his lips around Eddie’s tip and sucking before he swallows it down to the hilt with no problem. Seeing your boyfriend take Eddie so perfectly, has you grinding your hips against nothing. Desperately wanting to move your hand between your thighs and rub at your swollen bundle of nerves. 

“Share with your girlfriend Stevie, no need to be greedy. There's enough of me to go around.” Eddie insists, with his signature devilish smirk. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Steve retorts, making you laugh at their boyish banter.

Steve looks at you with a bashful smile, before he’s wrapping his hand around Eddie’s shaft and bringing it closer to your awaiting mouth. 

“Go ahead, suck his cock, baby.” Steve affirms, as if you needed the encouragement. You wrap your lips around Eddie, hungirly taking him as far back as you could. 

You find a steady pace, bobbing your head up and down on him as you twist your hand along the inches you can’t take. 

“Oh fuck. That’s a good girl.” Eddie groans, fisting your hair into a ponytail. He takes the bottom of his band tee and sticks it between his teeth, and your eyes flicker up to the trail of hair that leads up to his belly button and over his toned abs. You realize as his whole torso is on display, that he has both of his pink, pebbled nipples pierced. 

“You’re both so fucking greedy for this cock, jesus.” Eddie huffs, but he’s the complete opposite of upset or annoyed, fuck no. He’s vibrating, the most excited and turned on he’s probably ever been in his life. 

“Open your mouths, hands behind your back.” Another demand you both follow instantly. 

Eddie grabs the end of his shaft in his hand and fucks into Steve’s mouth, four thrusts in and he’s removing himself and bringing his cock to your lips. He goes back and forth between your throats, as spit drips off of his dick and into puddles on the floor. 

“Up.” He says with a stern vibrato.

“You. lay on the bed with your head upside down, I want it hanging off the edge.” He says, and you make quick work at following his orders. 

“Good girl.” He whispers sweetly, before bending down and catching your lips in a dirty, hunger filled kiss. 

“Alright, I want you to fuck her wet little cunt while I fuck her throat. How’s that sound, big boy?” 

Steve nods his head in agreement, as an excited smile and hungry eyes find your awaiting, pliant body. Your boyfriend climbs over you, nestling himself between your thighs. He brings two fingers between your legs and rubs at your folds, gauging whether or not he needs to get you wetter for him. But to his contentment, you're already soaked and dripping. He grabs his hard, leaking cock and rubs it along your slit before breaching your hole. 

“Mmm.” Steve hums in delight, as he reaches the depths of your pussy, so warm and tight. 

Eddie begins to slide his cock between your lips, and you're quickly being filled at both ends. You can't help but to relish in it, the fantasy you’ve had for years, playing out before your very eyes, with you as a participant. The thought had you growing wetter and your throat relaxing while both boys pounded into you.

“She takes cock so well, doesn't she?” You hear Steve question above you. 

“So fucking good, she’s got my goddamn legs shaking from this tight little throat.” Eddie growls as he thrusts harder with each word. You hear the smacking of their lips, as they both groan and whimper between tongue filled kisses. 

“Shit, shit. I gotta stop or I'm gonna come.” Eddie pants, removing himself as quickly as possible. 

He couldn't let this be over, yet.  

Steve pulls out too, looking to Eddie for his next command. 

“Princess wants to watch us mess around, then that's what princess is gonna get.” Eddie says, throwing you a wicked smile, as he moves in closer to Steve. He grabs his cock and fists it before crashing their lips back together. 

You move towards the top of the bed, for the perfect view. But also to be out of their way, you didn't want there to be any distractions from this.

They start out kissing and stroking each other's cocks. Their tongues lapping together, sloppily as desperate moans flow through the room.

Your fingers find their way between your thighs, the tips move in a circle over your throbbing bud and you bite at your lip as your eyes never leave the scene in front of you. 

Eddie now has Steve on all fours, while the metalhead stands behind him. He falls to his knees, before bringing his tongue to the other boy's rim. He fucks him with it, making Steve mewl all the while his eyes bore into yours. You can tell he’s so turned on; his hair is a mess, his face is flushed and his eyes are glossed over with desire. The long haired boy begins prodding at your boyfriend's hole with his fingers, stretching him out enough to take his cock that is now aching, painfully.

“You ready to give our girl a show, Stevie?” Eddie murmurs into his ear, while his eyes finally take in the image of you, laid out for them; legs spread wide as you touch yourself. He can’t help but want you closer.

“Come help me, baby.” Eddie insists, as he rubs his cock against Steve’s hole. 

“Yes, sir.” You purr, crawling across the bed before you're stopping just beside him.

“Such a good girl.” He praises as both boys watch your every movement. “Hold his ass open for me, can you do that, sweetheart?” You nod at his words. 

“Yes sir, I can do that.” And you do, grabbing at both of Steve’s plump cheeks and pulling them apart, as the metalhead begins pushing into his tight hole. They both groan in unison as Eddie buries himself inside the pliant boy beneath him.

“Fuck, that looks so good.” You can't help but utter as you stare at the way Steve stretches around Eddie. 

“Yeah? Like the way your boyfriend's tight little hole looks getting stuffed with my big cock?” He grunts, his hips speeding up as he fucks Steve with a force that knocks the wooden headboard repeatedly into the wall. 

Steve’s drooling and whimpering into the mattress, as his eyes roll back with pleasure. Eddie’s cock has been hitting his prostate dead on and he’s so close to coming. 

“I, I'm gonna come.” Steve whines.

“No. You’re. Not.” Eddie growls, as he slowly pulls out of the warm, tight hole that has always taken his cock so perfectly.

“Pretty girl deserves to be fucked too, doesn’t she?” The older boy smirks, slapping the round globe of Steve’s ass. 

“Switch places.” Eddie commands. 

You bend over, ass up in the air; mimicking the exact position your boyfriend was just in.

“Jesus, you’ve got some real pretty holes, baby.” Eddie cooed, as his thumbs spread you out.

 “You ever played with her little asshole, Harrington?” He asks, before spitting a glob right onto your puckered hole. 

“Just with my fingers.” Steve admits, bashfully.

“That’s a shame. We’ll have to change that another time, but right now I’m dying to stretch out this little cunt. Fuck, she’s dripping. Just begging to be fucked.” He boasts, then he’s sinking his two middle fingers into your cunt, all the while he rubs his thumb over your spit filled asshole. 

He works his fingers inside of you, almost immediately finding your sweet spot, which instantly has you whining and biting at the bed sheets. 

“Fuck yeah, so fucking ready for me.” Eddie murmurs under his breath, before he’s removing his fingers and replacing them with his much bigger cock. “Mmm, fuck.” He groans as his head falls back and a sigh of pleasure leaves his parted lips. 

Steve sits with his back against the headboard as he watches your bodies move together so effortlessly. He can't take it anymore, so he starts palming at his needy cock as he watches the two people he cares about most, captivate and pleasure each other. 

“Get your ass over here, big boy. Come fuck her mouth for me.” 

Steve’s moving before the demand fully leaves Eddie’s mouth, making you both giggle at his desperation. “With pleasure.” The honey eyed boy marvels, as he lays down with you between his thighs. His sensitive tip sits just inches from your lips, so you grab it and incase him in your wet mouth as you begin to suck him off with gusto.

They both begin to fuck into you, like they did when this all first started. Your wetness drips down both sets of balls, and Steve can’t take his eyes off of the way you're working his cock in and out of your mouth. Your eyes are watering and spit is dripping from your chin before you take him all the way back into your throat. You shake your head, making him whimper as his eyes roll back. 

“Need to feel you, Stevie.” Eddie groans, “help me stretch her little pussy out.” He’s practically begging the pretty boy, and your body slightly tenses at the idea of both of them inside of you, stretching you out together. 

“That okay, sweet girl?” Steve asks you, tenderly. 

“Please.” Is all you can mewl, as you tighten around Eddie. 

“Oh yeah, she’s very okay with it.” Eddie teases, as he brings both palms down harshly slapping at your ass, while he waits for Steve to make his way underneath you.

Finally, he sheethes his cock in right alongside his roommates. Stretching you out to maximum capacity, and you can’t hold back the loud moans and sobs that are ripped from your throat. 

Once the sharp pain is gone and you're used to the stretch, they begin snapping their hips in unison. The feeling is so indescribable, as both cocks rub together inside of you. You're all so wet and slippery and both boys are incredibly hard, but they only grow harder as their tips rub together between your walls. 

“Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck, want you fill this pussy up with me, baby.” Eddie groans as he talks directly to Steve. His words cause you to clench around them.

“I'm gonna come, please don’t stop. Please don't come yet.” You babble.

“We're not coming until you do, honey.” Steve chokes, trying not to moan and curse as you tighten up even more, pushing their cocks together with force.

Eddie wraps your hair around his knuckles and pulls, causing your head to snap back as your eyes meet his, upside down.

“You gonna come on our cocks? Hm? Make a fucking mess on us.” He encourages.

Both boys' hands fall to your hips, right over each other as they bring you down harder on their dicks, that are so close to exploding. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You squeal as your body begins to jerk and shake with intensity. You come so hard you almost black out, falling onto Steve's chest. He snuggles you in closer, holding you tight as him and Eddie continue to fuck into you. Two sets of expletives fall from their mouths as their cocks twitch against each other and they empty their balls deep inside of you.

You all fall into a heap of tangled limbs, as you and both boys fight to catch your breath. Everyones silent for a few minutes, trying to take in the events that just took place. 

“Alright, I’ll leave you two alone.” Eddie mumbles with sorrowful eyes, as if he’d felt like he worn out his welcome.

“No, stay.” You and Steve mutually implore. 

“You want me to stay?” He asks, unsure if it was a good idea.

“We want you to stay.”   

★ 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

[simp-ly-writes]

Chapter Three: In Dreams

Can be read as a standalone: Personal Hell Series (pt.4)

Pairing: (Hazbin Hotel) Lucifer Morningstar x demon overlord!Reader

Summary: With the chance to sleep again, you find new definitions to peace that leave you picking up the pieces left from finally answered questions. But were they better left unanswered after all?

Warnings: 3123 words, mentions of violence and mental health, possible gore and death.

A/N: I have written this all so quickly, wow it has been awhile since I have felt this passionate about writing someone- thank you all seriously for the support!!

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

Lucifer took a stroll around the gardens that had become overgrown. He didn’t have the heart to weed the poisonous vines that strangled the various flowers underneath, he watches as each thorne moved every so slightly to stab the stem, the petals soon fall in on themselves, the others trying to stand become covered as the same fate plays out before all those left standing. 

The King did not know how much time had passed, multiple servants had come running into the greenhouse, waiting for his attention only to be teleported out of the room a moment later with a mere twitch of his finger. It was in times like these that the royal wished he could dream- losing himself in fantasy, in hope, and in memory.

Clapping his hands together and casting them outwards, gold strings appeared like rays of sunlight through the panes as a herd of ducks wattled their way round his feet. Tilting his head to the side, you appeared materializing through the door and drifting over to him. You did not speak a word. Only standing as he sat there on the bench describing his day, the tea chosen during the afternoon and the evening decisions he made for after the upcoming extermination. 

He chuckled to himself, head shaking before falling to his chest. “You know darling, when I gave that little piece of me, I ended up giving all of me… how pathetic am I…” his laughter only grows as the staff members in wait all bow their heads, doing their best not to listen as their hearts ache. They could only pray that those sightings were real and pray to heaven and back that Lucifer would listen. 

--

“I won a sex-award for this performance, its show and tell… is this not?” Angel Dust comments towards Charlie who hides away from the moans and grunts exiting the speakers. You stand there still behind the box, pretending to trip over the extension cord while mouthing a sorry. Vaggie gives you a thumbs up in thanks before hugging the distressed Charlie in her arms. 

“That was not a good irrigation,” Husk comments, walking over to the crowd while cleaning a cup between his hands. “Well what would you know about a good performance, whiskers?” Angel Dust retorts with a huff, legs kicking over the sofas armrest. 

“Everyone bitches to the bartender, there is not a single thing that I do not know about any of you at this point. You consistently bitch and moan outside of porn as much as you do in it about your boss,” Husk replies, now pouring himself a drink in the fresh glass. 

“Well then prove it,” the Spider comments back childishly as Husk lets out a large huff of air- pointing first at Sir. Pretentious, “That one is an insecure buffoon who watches everyone sleep and the Princess has a bleeding heart of daddy issues that this one,” he waves the neck of the bottle towards you, “refuses to speak to and don’t think yourself to be out of this either Vaggie because you pretend to hate everyone when you really hate yourself. And then there is Nifty…. Nothing more to be said on that.”

Angel Dust blows up with laughter as you are still reeling in this information. You don’t notice as he leaves for work as Charlie desperately tries to pull him back in for the remainder of the exercises, taking this as your cue- you retreat back to your room.

--

You had requested for some art supplies the next time the Hotel was to receive its shipment of goods. You clapped your hands, overjoyed at the colours you had chosen, so neatly arranged in their glass bottles. Fresh Paint brushes with green wooden handles gleaned happily in your face with the wood finish. So enamoured by the supplies, you got straight to work painting the view out your window. 

Pentagram city glowed all throughout the day, its red sky almost caving in the city below with how much blood could be found on the streets. The buildings of all shapes, colours, and sizes sprouted from the earth- trying to escape the destruction but as your brush drifted to paint heaven in the sky, the light blue on your brush hovered as you second-guessed including it in your work. 

Cleaning your brush in an empty jar, you set the cityscape to dry on your balcony as your mind soon turned itself off, you were losing yourself to the art, the barriers that you had created for yourself, burying yourself in work and meetings- now all coming undone in a fiery burst of passion- your hand moving feverishly across the canvas. 

Becoming lost, paint stroke after paint stroke, a voice drifts just behind your ears, as if they were a person in passing, ““You know darling, when I gave that little piece of me, I ended up giving all of me… how pathetic am I…” Looking back at your canvas, you painted your first memory of being in the Garden, eyes blown wide as you walk around ahead of the King and Queen- excitement had taken over any formalities you had prior to entering the space. You shake your head with a slight chuckle, hiding the painting away only to hear a meow just below your feet. 

Leaning the canvas against the food of your bed, you pick up KeeKee, giving the hair between her ears a light pat before coo-ing, “Everything alright?” The cat looks up at you with big eyes, nose pointed towards your door as you follow the silent command. Just as you are about to let the creature go, her claws dig into your shoulders with a wince- making her choice clear. You were making your way downstairs together. 

--

When you descend the stars, pausing just before the last couple of steps, you observe a destroyed bar, crying Charlie and pissed Vaggie. You hold your tongue, hand drifting its way through KeeKee’s fur for reassurance. Alastor appears behind you, just a few steps above as he leans on the railing, silently observing the scene paying out before him. 

“I am not so sure Angel Dust will be okay… I-I really messed up today. He got…It was not good. I pushed too hard earlier and things only got worse. So in light of that! I am going to write tomorrow's lecture on boundaries with a side of one-hundred apology letters,” Charlie states, her tone changing from one of sadness to another of light presenting you with a form of whiplash that has your head spinning- trying to keep up. 

Husk storms out the building soon afterwards, on a personal mission to hunt down Angel Dust and bring them both back to the Hotel safely. “Never a dull day it is here,” Alastor comments, “I second that,” is all you reply with before KeeKee is jumping out of your hands and disappearing into the shadows. Vaggie turns to you both, “looks like we will be cleaning up then in the meanwhile…” and clean up you do. 

--

While taking over Husks position behind the bar, you cork open a bottle of wine, pouring out glasses for everyone that stumbles through the door. Vaggie holds her hand out, murmuring a thanks before necking the glass down while Alastor inspects his jacket, finger swirling around the rim of the glass. You point the bottle towards Charlie, silently asking if she wants a drink as she shakes her head and you pour the rest out for Angel Dust and Husk who appear in brighter spirits. 

“I AM SO, SO, SOO SORRY!” Charlie runs up, squeezing the lemons out of Angel Dust who pats the top of her head awkwardly at first before returning the hug, “It’s alright dollface, I get it. Thank you for caring about me…”

With that being said, Charlie practically chokes the Spider that has him extending his other limbs ushering her in the direction of Vaggies arms who carries her away and up to bed for the day. Husk knocks his head to the side, a silent request for your to get the fuck out from behind his bar. 

--

Sleep had finally found you that night, your eyelids rest to the blackness that surrounds your mind. You feel your covers around you, warming your body as you shift slightly throughout the night. Yet a wetness peaks at your foot, covering your blanket as rain falls once more. It shatters your blanket like pebbles thrown against glass. As you hug yourself from the attack. Your bed rocks back and forth as you look over the edge. High waves you float on, almost going overboard as you desperately grip the headboard. 

Walk… an echoing voice appears in your head, Walk… to me…. Dipping your toes in the frigid waters, you curse out before trying to take a stand. You witness the water level gradually lower with every step you take, you walk freely in the ankle deep waters as they ripple underneath. Carry Forth… The voice motivates you to carry forth as the landscape overhead shifts to a sunrise- you cannot tell where the water ends and the sky begins in this reflection- you become breathless at the sight. It was ethereal. 

A figure soon appears on the horizon and you can take no further step as a light pressure holds your body still. It is as if every inch of your skin is being casted in a hug by light itself. Your breath shutters from the sensation and before you appear a figure incomprehensible to size, they take over the sky before you, white robes drifting like clouds in the sky as a singular finger is offered to shake your hand. 

Their touch is featherlight, knowing of their power. You crane your neck upwards- trying to catch a glimpse of their face yet the light burns your irises as you cast your head down. A chuckle creates waves around you, your body moving without control, pleading for them to cease. A piece of cloth drifts its way over to you, sitting still against the rising waters as you sit on its surface cross-legged. 

You try to speak to the creature before you but you find your voice sealed away- as if it would disturb the peace created here. You watch as fish begin to spawn in the waters, they drift in packs back to the direction of your bed, a snake chases forth as is herding them away. We speak our minds in the literal, the voice softly comments in your head, I hear without the need to speak, to pray, or to sacrifice. You wish to know why you have been brought forth- yet an answer spoken now will led to an endless stream. 

You tilt your head, still casting your head downwards to watch as the creatures all play amongst one another in the ocean below. You can no longer see the bottom, your stomach clutches with unease yet that familiar pressure against you skin has you unable to think of anything else. I am creation as I am fate, your path interrupted has corrupted the ocean, the skies, and the creatures. I have presented you with breath as I do so again. You were not created for this life you live nor for my siblings who sign for your eyes. But I will not have the destruction of all that has to be broken in your absence. 

You speak in riddles, you think to the apparent deity as the waves uproar once more, their laughter blessing their ears as the sunsets and their grandeur falls till they are only just taller than yourself. They sit on the watertop, their face no longer hidden as you gasp at their appearance. They only smile in reaction before summoning a tea set for you both to indulge with. 

Blonde hair, rosy cheeks and grey skin greet your eyes, This is the King's brother... You watch as they laugh out, the wave movements now rain filling your cups as he brings them both up for a cheer. Funny to hear a brother of mine to be addressed with such frivolous titles- even more so when coming from someone dear but perhaps unknowing? 

I still question to this day the truth in it all, you admit while taking your first sip, eyes closing to the perfect temperature of the tea. An art form, questioning is- could be considered a science. It is relentless in the wrong hands and plagues the people. 

We live life in question, is that not what it means to be… human? You question out, not thinking of an answer to be possible and even if there was one, it would quite possibly be past your comprehension. The dietary hums out before you, your cup never emptying as they set their own down against the floating table. Subjective that is, truth- yes but never entirely is anything- even the definite. Alas, I am only an acquaintance to death who would define the truth to humanity. Us immortals never grasp the concept of living- no matter the effort placed. Yet it is in these thoughts that I have learned you are for. 

You rest your cup on the table as they hold out their white-gloved hand and your world swirls face falling into the waters below as you look through someone else's eyes. A guard stands silently in your… office. You gasp as does the guard you inhibit. Your eyes snap upwards to see a growling Lucifer, “I have requested for silence during my studies- need I remind you to not look into my eye?” 

Your breath hitches, eyes going wide as you take in the King's dishevelled appearance, your desk scattered with papers, your walls covered in illustrated memories yet other than that- not a singular thing has been misplaced. You shake your head, bowing it before the royal as he walks back behind your desk without a second glance, staring at the various maps you spent decades drawing to pin-point precision. 

The coldness of the water has you gasping and flailing your own libs as you are taken back to the cloths and seas, back before the sitting the deity who hums out a soothing tone once more. I cannot have the mis-balancing of death. That is why I personally ensure your return as in return I present you with the final bow. You WILL meet my brother when he arrives in due time and I cannot speak more without the worrying of fates. 

But- you start to protest without taking another thought, your emotions in a whirlwind yet nothing disrupts the peaceful atmosphere of your dream and the deity before you. With a wave of their hand you are flown back into your bed, underneath the covers that absorb every drop of sea that has touched your skin and you wake up with a silent scream. Hells red skies before you and the relentless city bustling just underneath. 

Your earlier painting of the cityscape and the Garden were not where you left them last. They are now found hanging in front of your bed, staring into you, into your subconscious as you debate between dreams in reality as you wake your way into the elevator and down the stairs where breakfast waits freshly prepared.

--

You look around the breakfast nook in the kitchen, confused when a lack of a certain Princess and accompanying girlfriend are not present at the table. Setting your plate down beside Husks, you take your tea cup with you and into the sitting room where various red strings create a jungle of vines between colourful doodles and sleepless notes. 

A stressed Vaggie addresses a sleep-deprived Charlie who rushes around, clutching her hair in frustration, “WHY WONT THIS HOTEL JUST WORK!” you wince at the tone she yells in this early in the morning just as Vaggie had called it quits observing and picks the girl up, pulling her down onto a nearby couch, turned away from the insanity. 

But in that moment Charlie partially turns as do you, awaiting for a need to subdue the royal. Angel Dust pats you on the shoulder, easing you to come down again as Husk shoves a new mug into your hands. You did not realise you had dropped your cup earlier. 

“Maybe it's time-” Vaggie beings before being cut off by a crazed Charlie running back up to the boards and moving some strings around, “NO.” “To ask your dad. I know you don’t want to but it’s the only chance we have,” Vaggie finishes her sentence with as Charlie drops to the floor, clutching her head between her knees. 

Your hands sweat, as you look around to anywhere but Vaggie and Charlie. The dream deity had predicted your future, and you could only feel a wave of nausea wash over you as Charlie opened her phone before she quickly slammed it to the ground, “Wait just a sec! That is it! If we call my dad, he can get me a meeting in Heaven!” 

You choke, now leaning against a wall for support. Images of last night, of your office, of the King. Your head pounds as the small voices surround your head, Charlie needs to do this- even when you cannot protect her… 

Charlie picks her phone back up, scrolling through her contacts, her finger hovering over the name as Husks asks, “Daddy issues?” Charlie goes dead silent before looking over at you with apologetic eyes and speaking up, “No… we were just… never close thats all. After you and mom left, he never wanted to see me, he buried himself in work. He calls sometimes when he needs me to do something now.”

“Well I would like to meet the big dick in charge,” Angel Dust comments while looking over at you for a reaction. Your face is neutral, giving nothing away but your fidgeting tells elsewise. “The ultimate bad boy~” Nifty praises as you cringe very loudly as does Charlie. “I bet he’s scary~” Nifty continues while fluffing up her hair and stabbing a bug. You let out a whistle, “yup, scary, that's for sure.”  Charlie's head snaps over to your own, tilting sideways and eyes narrowing. You refuse to elaborate, memories of his threats to a mere guard simply making eye-contact with him. Every fiber in your body calls for escape but you pressure yourself to stay in support of Charlie who takes a seat in the chair that you stand beside. She clicks call and the phone rings thrice before a friendly tone sends your heart soaring to new heights as you pick at your jacket to better hide your reaction.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

↳ Taglist: @jtcat305 @tati-the-fangirl @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @amarokofficial

[gimmethatagustd]

bad boy, good lips | pjm + jhs

Hoseok is a superhero's sidekick. Jimin is a villain. They make it work.

○ Pairing: Villain!Jimin x Sidekick!Hoseok (from Falling Into You)

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Fantasy, superheroes/superpowers, college au, slice of life, on-and-off relationship, smut

○ 7 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Superhero)

○ Word Count: 2,952

○ Warnings: This is just a blow job scene basically so don't read it if you don't like it

○ Notes: I highly recommend reading the series before reading this! Alternatively, if you like this, then you'll probably like the series even more. The series is one I'm super proud of, and it's mostly fluff about how cute Yoongi is so all the Yoongi stans rise up 🤭

○ Post Date: February 3, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? CLEARED (remix) - Lilithzplug

“Two superheroes, a sidekick, and a villain walk into a bar–”

“–and the superheroes pay for the drinks because they’ll be the ones with all the fame and glory,” Jimin finishes Yoongi’s sentence with a sharp grin. 

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi huffs as he holds the door open for his friends. 

Jimin lets Hoseok and Taehyung enter first. Jimin knows that if he and Hoseok go first, then Taehyung will awkwardly try to get Yoongi to enter the bar before he does, even though Yoongi is the one holding the door, and then Taehyung will trip on his way inside and embarrass himself. As funny as Taehyung’s crush on Yoongi is, it can be painful to sit through – even now, when Yoongi and Taehyung are officially dating. 

Jimin may be a villain, but he isn’t a sadist. 

Besides, one highly possible outcome is that Taehyung gets all flustered and makes plants start shooting out of the ground, completely ruining the friends’ night out celebrating the end of finals. Boo.  

Jimin turns around to stick his tongue out at Yoongi, ignoring the wide-eyed look on Taehyung’s face. The poor kid is so terrified of him that he’d buy the whole bar a round of shots if Jimin asked him to. It’s funny. Jimin is virtually harmless. 

“Don’t Jimin-ah me, Min Yoongi. You can’t argue against this; I am all-knowing.” 

In front of him, Hoseok snorts. It’s difficult to know what he has found amusing since Hoseok is always, intentionally or not, swimming in the inner thoughts of everyone around him. Jimin has long since gotten over the unnerving reality that his best friend can hear his thoughts. If anything, Hoseok should be thankful to Jimin. Having access to Jimin’s thoughts means having access to all the little glimpses of the future that flit through his head. Hoseok has said it’s challenging to sort through the mess of scenes, understandably so. It has taken Jimin years to gain control over his power of precognition. 

“You are not all-knowing. You’re a glorified fortune teller,” Hoseok teases, confirming that his earlier snort was in response to Jimin’s cocky comment. 

“Hyung, how dare you?” Jimin gasps as the four men find a booth near the back of the bar. 

It’s a classic dive bar, dimly lit and vaguely smokey. The wooden table isn’t sticky when Jimin presses his palm against the surface as he slides into the booth, so that’s a win – not that he didn’t already know it wouldn’t be. Rare is it that anything surprises Jimin. He tries not to focus his energy on decoding the scenes that flit through his mind like specks of dust sparkling in the sunlight. Learning to shoo them away has taken time and diligent practice as a villain trainee.

Hoseok sits opposite Jimin, also sliding into the booth first. Taehyung quickly follows Hoseok without sparing Jimin a glance, leaving Yoongi to sit beside Jimin. They all already know that Yoongi will be the one to get their drinks from the bar once everyone decides on what they want. Though healing is Yoongi’s superpower, his entire personality is thoughtful and gentle.

The kindness of it all disgusts Jimin just as much as it fascinates him.

Sometimes, Jimin wonders if Yoongi can heal whatever part of Jimin made him a villain. It isn’t that Jimin minds that this is the path he has chosen for himself; after all, he knows what would’ve happened if he had chosen the path of a hero or sidekick. The thought of becoming something else makes Jimin’s brain itch.

A kick to the shin forces Jimin to blink, ripping his eyes from Yoongi’s profile to stare at Hoseok’s frown from across the table. Hoseok knows what Jimin is thinking, and Jimin doesn’t need words to understand him.

Hoseok believes Jimin is perfect the way he is. The narcissist inside Jimin agrees.

“Can someone pass me the specialty drink menu?” Taehyung chirps from the other end of the table. He speaks cutely, like he always does, each note sounding as sweet as he smells, floral yet a bit earthy, dirt beneath half-bitten nails.

Looking up from his phone, Hoseok eyes the menu where it’s propped up against the wall by a napkin holder. The laminated sheet is definitely sticky; Jimin doesn’t need supernatural qualities to tell him that. Luckily, with Hoseok around, there’s no need to touch the grimey thing. It takes little effort for him to use his telekinesis to lift the menu from one end of the table and gently drop it with his mind in front of Taehyung.  

“How did your examinations go, Hobah?” Yoongi asks while he leans on his forearms to get closer to Taehyung so they can both review the menu.

“Ah, the usual,” Hoseok shrugs with a slight pout, “Combat still fucks me over, but Jimin has been helping me, so my scores should be much higher this semester.”

“Is that allowed?” Taehyung’s bright eyes slide from Hoseok to Jimin.

Wiggling a little in his seat, Jimin bites back a cocky grin.

“It isn’t not allowed,” Jimin settles on saying, punctuating his statement with an airy laugh.

He isn’t lying. As far as he knows, no rules at the various universities in Seoul prohibit superhero and sidekick trainees from fraternizing with villain trainees. Of course, it isn’t the smartest thing to do. Secret sharing across enemy lines can only come back to bite someone in the ass. Is Jimin disadvantaged because Hoseok has an intimate understanding of his combat style? Will Hoseok come to regret letting Jimin know his weaknesses?

Running his tongue along his bottom lip, Jimin watches Hoseok with his pretty lips parted in a slight smirk. Hoseok has more weaknesses than just poor combat skills.

“If you need anything, let me know,” Yoongi offers.

“Do you think I would hurt him?” Jimin plays affronted, and Yoongi sees right through it.

Yoongi sighs, but his lips quirk with a smile when he and Taehyung share a small look.

“Just figure out what you want to order, yeah?”

After the three tell Yoongi their drink orders, he leaves the table to relay the information to the bartender at the counter. It only takes about three seconds before Taehyung shoots out of his seat, muttering something about helping Yoongi carry their drinks before the kid scrambles toward the bar counter.

“You freak him out,” Hoseok observes with a chuckle that Jimin mimics.

“I can’t imagine why.”

“It’s how sneaky you act.” Hoseok props his elbow on the table and holds his chin in his hand. “Like you know something he doesn’t.”

Jimin grins, teeth bright and sharp.

“But I do.”

“Mmm…” Hoseok’s dark eyes start straight into Jimin’s gray ones.

Looking for something? Jimin thinks, his grin spreading when Hoseok’s cheeks flush pink.

“Nothing in particular.”

You’re cute when you’re nosy.

“I hear; I don’t listen.”

Jimin scoffs, eyes rolling despite his playful expression.

Liar.

A blunt laugh punches out of Hoseok’s chest. He looks across the bar to see Yoongi and Taehyung hold hands while they wait for their drinks.

“You could be a villain if you wanted,” Jimin murmurs, careful not to talk too loudly in case other bar patrons are as nosy as his telepathic friend. “Your powers are perfect for it, and you have a certain… flair.”

“I would never.”

“Too good for it?” Jimin’s grin is impossibly bright.

Hoseok chews his bottom lip for a moment. It's shiny with spit when he releases it from between his teeth.

“Something like that,” he admits, leaning back against his seat.

Ignoring Hoseok’s non-answer, Jimin rests both forearms on the table and leans forward, making up for the distance Hoseok put between them when he rested against the back of the booth.

“Would you like to know what I see in your future, Hobi hyung?” Jimin purrs. 

“You already know the answer.” 

“I want you to say it anyway.” 

“Fine,” Hoseok concedes with a cheery smile, “I would love to know what you see in my future, JimJam.”

“I see you pressed against the bathroom door of this shitty bar while I suck you off so good you start crying.”

Evil satisfaction bubbles in Jimin’s hot veins when Hoseok closes his eyes and slowly inhales, pulling his upper body up and inward. It takes time to recover from Jimin’s bluntness, though Hoseok should be accustomed to his behavior. Never one to run out of confidence, Jimin has thousands of possibilities flipping through his brain like a Rolodex, each categorized by the probability of Jimin getting the best outcome for his personal gain.

Seducing Hoseok was one of Jimin’s personal bests.

“There is no future in which you can resist me,” Jimin had cooed in Hoseok’s ear the first time they fucked.

It was quick and hardly memorable, both of them young college kids heavily intoxicated, too worried about shoving each other in the bathroom of some random house party and getting their skinny jeans around their thighs to care about much else. Heroes, villains — none of it mattered.

Still, none of it does.

“Yoongi hyung is thinking about the face masks he bought to use later tonight with Taehyung,” Hoseok says carefully, finally opening his eyes. He watches their friends at the bar. “Tae wants to go home because he’s tired. And because you freak him out. He’s giving himself a two-drink max.”

When Hoseok turns back around, Jimin is already getting up.

“It’s going to take them a while to get our drinks. That bitch in the pink will cut Yoongi in line, and he’ll be too nice to say anything,” Jimin gestures with a jerk of his head in the direction of a girl inching toward the bar.

As the two men pass the bar counter on their way to the bathroom, Jimin lightly touches the elbow of the girl in the pink halter top.

“God, it’s taking a while, isn’t it?” he whines with a pout. The girl’s frown deepens.

“Yes! Like, what the fuck! I don’t understand why they only have one bartender when it’s getting so busy.”

Meddling with the future isn’t something Jimin believes in. No, he prefers to… leave suggestions sprinkled about, nothing major. Planting seeds is better than bulldozing trees. Miss Pink Halter Top was going to be a bitch about the service anyway; Jimin only gave her a little push in the right direction. 

Smug and satisfied with himself, Jimin laces his fingers with Hoseok’s. They’re far more graceful slipping into the single-person bathroom in the back of the bar than they had been at that college party nearly four years ago. Experience has allowed Jimin to know how Hoseok likes being touched, kissed, and cared for.

Comfortable with the veil of protective mystery that comes with an on-and-off relationship, Jimin doesn’t worry about what Hoseok does when they aren’t together; he knows he’s the only one who can treat Hoseok right.

Besides, Jimin knows every possible end to their relationship; all he ever sees is the two of them, hand-in-hand.

The moment Hoseok locks the bathroom door behind them, Jimin falls to his knees in front of him. Hoseok looks good from this angle, jaw sharp and eyes narrowed when he peers down at Jimin’s expecting mouth.

“Stop thinking about how pretty I am,” Hoseok rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush bright pink, and a heart-shaped smile brightens his face. “It’s embarrassing when you have your face against my…” He waves at his crotch.

“Relax, hyung,” Jimin purrs, biting the zipper of Hoseok’s pants and tugging while he opens the button with his fingers.

Toned and impossibly smooth, Hoseok’s thighs quiver as Jimin tugs his jeans and briefs halfway down, far enough to free his cock. It hangs limp, not yet hard, but Jimin knows in more ways than one that it won’t take long to get Hoseok worked up.

All Jimin has to think about is them fucking, and Hoseok is already whimpering.

“You have to tell me if someone’s coming,” Hoseok whispers. The back of his head stutters and thuds against the bathroom door when he lets his head fall back.

“Won’t you hear them?”

“I can’t—” Hoseok inhales sharply when Jimin flicks his wet tongue across the tip of his cock. “I can’t concentrate.”

Suckling the head of Hoseok’s cock, Jimin hums lightly in understanding, though he doesn’t care if someone comes. The door is locked. Even if Hoseok is loud, Jimin won’t find it in him to feel bad. There’s a second bathroom people can use; they aren’t doing anything bad.

This behavior is elementary, vanilla, and amateur. Jimin would love to do worse.

Jimin opens his mouth wider to take more of Hoseok’s cock down his throat, sucking with hollowed cheeks and letting spit bubble at the corners of his mouth. Messy head is neither good nor bad for Jimin, but he loves how vocal Hoseok becomes when he wets his cock, all slick and warm.

“Fuck,” Hoseok moans through a shuddery breath. 

Hoseok’s eyes squeeze shut, and he quickly lifts the hem of his hoodie to keep it out of the way when Jimin begins bobbing his head.

Fully hard, Hoseok’s cock twitches in Jimin’s hand when he pumps the base where he doesn’t reach with his mouth. He could swallow Hoseok whole, but the little golden speckles of future flickering in Jimin’s mind tell him that a little twist of his wrist is going to make Hoseok cum faster. Not that Jimin wants to keep this short, but he’s in a generous mood and doesn’t want to leave Taehyung and Yoongi waiting too long.

“Just, just like that.” Hoseok digs his fingers in Jimin’s silky pink hair using his free hand. He doesn’t push; he just scratches his nails against Jimin’s scalp as tingling encouragement.

Taking more of Hoseok into his mouth, Jimin maintains a consistent pace. His lips redden and swell, getting hot and spit-slicked as they stretch around Hoseok’s cock. He licks the underside and hums in satisfaction when Hoseok’s hips stutter.

It’s hard and fast how Jimin works his cock while Hoseok does his best to keep his back plastered to the bathroom door and his heart-shaped mouth shut. Little whimpers escape his pretty lips, but he’s always been vocal. It’s one of Jimin’s favorite things about him.

“Jimin,” Hoseok whispers, a warning Jimin doesn’t need.

Putting a bit of pressure on Hoseok’s balls as he holds his cock, Jimin lightly squeezes them, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin. That, combined with the ruthless pace of Jimin swallowing Hoseok’s cock, finally has Hoseok shaking under him.

“Shit shit shit.”

It hurts how hard Hoseok pulls his hair, but Jimin doesn’t care. Jimin keeps his gray eyes locked on Hoseok as he cums, pulling back far enough to let his cum spurt on his tongue. If it were another day and another place, Hoseok would lean back a bit further.

“Good?” Jimin asks sweetly after showing Hoseok that he has swallowed.

Hoseok nods weakly and finally uncurls his fingers from Jimin’s hair. It’s mechanical, as though his body isn’t yet his own, his orgasm temporarily stealing his autonomy from him.

With Hoseok’s help, Jimin rises to his feet. His knees ache from kneeling on the hard concrete floor, and the denim is dusty. Jimin would like to think he has a little more class than getting on his knees in a dingy bar bathroom, but when it comes to Hoseok, he’s willing to make compromises.

Jimin is hard, too. Hoseok’s eyes drop to the bulge in his jeans, but Jimin presses his fingers against the underside of his chin to lift his head.

I’m fine.

Sometimes, it’s nice not to have to say things out loud.

Sweat makes Hoseok’s blonde bangs stick to his forehead. Jimin brushes the hair from his face and admires the pink glow highlighting his features. For a long time, he thought he’d never find someone to pull those vulnerable, uncomfortable emotions out of him: affection and love.

Hoseok, though? There’s something about him that’s different.

“You know I love you too, right?” Hoseok asks with creeping hands wrapping around Jimin’s waist.

His turn to be shy, Jimin scoffs and turns his cheek to Hoseok when he leans in for a kiss.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm,” Hoseok’s smile is there in the sounds he makes; Jimin doesn’t need to see it. “What are the odds Taehyung and Yoongi will ditch us?”

Sometimes, Jimin wonders if the illness Taehyung had might happen to him, too, though he knows it’s unlikely. Taehyung’s powers are nothing like Jimin’s. Still, Jimin feels something tighten and twist in his chest when he thinks about how good it is to be loved by Hoseok.

“We could go out there and be honest about what we were doing, and they’ll complain but eventually get over it,” Jimin explains, his fingers finding Hoseok’s to intertwine with them at his hips, “Or we pretend like nothing happened, and they’ll be uncomfortable the rest of the night, wondering.”

The smirk that blossoms across Hoseok’s face is prettier than any flower Jimin has ever seen.

“Let’s make them suffer,” Hoseok laughs when Jimin’s eyebrows raise.

“Oh? Is someone playing the villain today?”

Pulling Jimin into a hug, Hoseok nuzzles the side of his neck.

“You’re a bad influence on me, JimJam. But I like it.”

Triumphant, Jimin grabs the back of Hoseok’s head and pulls him into a kiss. Despite the taste of Hoseok on Jimin’s tongue, the kiss is innocent and slow. What Jimin can��t verbalize, he can give Hoseok through his thoughts and actions. For now, that’s all they need.

@jooniesxbby @taegeum @chimmisbae @yoonminkookk

Click here to be added to the 100 Drabble Challenge taglist.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

[fayes-fics]

Benedict with him like mocking the reader when they can’t respond and him being kinda mean about how good he is

Kinktober: Benedict + Degradation Kink

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Paring: Benedict Bridgeton x fem!reader, modern AU

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, dom/sub, mean!dom!Benedict, cockwarming, gags, spreader bar, degrading language, nipple and clit spanking.

Author’s note: hi there 🫶 So this is as mean as I could make Benedict, I always headcanon him as Soft Dom. I set this in Modern AU. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this filth 🧡

“Stop whining,” he jeers, stilling your limbs.

You huff indignantly. Well, as much as you can, with saliva leaking over your chin, your underwear stuffed inside your mouth, scratchy and tart with arousal.

“Don't pretend you don't love this,” he warns, “you nasty little slut.” It’s hissed right into your ear, a shiver down your spine.

You asked him to be mean, rough, degrading, push your boundaries; he’s not holding back. You are in his lap, facing away, sitting on his cock, but forbidden from moving or touching yourself. You just have to be obediently still, cockwarming him, thighs draped on either side of his, a spreader bar strapped around your ankles, drooling from your mouth and elsewhere. Any time you attempt to wriggle, he halts you instantly. Your clit burning, pussy throbbing from the sustained stretch. That he has stayed rock solid for so long while idly reading on his Kindle is impressive. But doesn't help your plight. You tried to read along with him at one point but gave up, too preoccupied and strung out with lust to concentrate.

Your hands grasp the side of his quad muscles, fingers flexing but desperate not to tap out your safety code. You want this. More than anything. The mindless freedom of utterly ceding control, gagged and bound, put in your place with words you would slap anyone for calling you outside of this fantasy you only trust him with. 

He casually puts aside the reading device and suddenly pinches your nipples harshly. You squeal into your gag, the jewelled choker around your neck bearing his initials digging into your flesh as you do. He tugs roughly on your pebbled peaks, a zinging direct line to your clit, amplifying the heavy sensation in your whole pelvis.

“You just can't resist me, can you?” he sneers rhetorically, biting your earlobe. “Leaking all over me, ruining my sofa like the filthy bitch in heat you are.” 

He emphasises his point by smacking the nipples he has just pinched, puffy and darkened. Your hearty cry sounds pathetic, the fabric muting you.

“I'm the best you have ever had. Say it,” he commands.

You attempt to echo his words, but it's garbled behind the wad of material in your mouth.

“I can't hear you,” he mocks, “speak properly.”

You try again, enunciating to the point of shouting.

“Better,” he chuckles hollow. 

You slump back against him, his chest warm on your spine, nuzzling your nose against his neck, mewling softly, trying a new tactic, hoping it will make him take pity finally.

“Oh, my poor little fuck toy,” he preens, dripping with possessiveness. “When will you learn? You are mine to do as I want,” he adds, spanking two fingers over your clit so you scream again, legs jerking up as the bar clinks around your leather ankle cuffs. Despite his words, it makes you so hopeful; just one or two more strikes, and you swear you will come, wound so tight with arousal. 

But, almost as if sensing it, he instead nonchalantly returns to his book, and you want to wail, your brain itching with need. You attempt a muffled appeal for more, for anything, but he feigns misunderstanding of what you are saying and then merely ignores you. At this point, you would be grateful for anything - for him to push you to your knees and fuck your throat, throw you on the floor and spank your pussy raw - anything but this prolonged tease, frankly. 

After what feels like forever, he flicks to the last page, and your pussy clenches reflexively from your excitement at spying blank space - that the end of the book is in sight. He moans slightly at the squeeze.

“Excited are we?” he rumbles, and it's closer to the real Benedict than anything.

You nod, twisting to look at him, eyes pleading.

“Alright. Once I've finished this book, I’ll fuck you,” he offers conciliatoryly, and you want to weep in relief.

No taglist as these drabbles are so short

[sailorluna15]

I finally finished my first work!

Butch!Stone Top Lin Beifong x fem!pillow princess wife reader

warnings: nsfw (18+), oral (reader recieving), angst to smut, fingering, clit rubbing, penetration (strap in vagina, reader recieving), cursing, dirty talk, daddy kink (daddy and papa used).

Lightly beta read! Feed back is greatly appreciated! Send in requests if you want more!

Missing You

The smell of fire noodles and sautéed vegetables fills the air as you sashay around the kitchen, cooking up a storm, waiting on Lin to come home. Since Lin has been spending the last four days at the station, you've been feeling neglected. You understand that her job is very important, but that doesn't negate the empty feeling in your chest and nonexistent sex life. Lin not being at the house for more than 5 minutes has made it super hard for you two to get down and dirty. Everytime you try to get a little quickie in, she pushes you away because she has to get back to the station. It's been killing you and you've had enough.  Toys, wet dreams, your fingers, and sexual fantasies aren't cutting it. You NEED Lin.

Being deep in thought, you didn't hear Lin enter the house. You jump in surprise as you feel the strong, muscular arms of your lover wrap around you. A squeal forces itself out of your body as you turn around and realize who's home. "Lin, you're finally back!", you say as you throw your arms around her neck. She retorts with a raised brow and a lopsided smile, "Finally?", "I've come home to check on you every single day”, she retorts. "Yeah, for like five minutes, you've barely been around and it's been killing me!" with a huff, you wriggle out of her grasp, and start plating the food for dinner. Lin's plate, silverware, and cup clatter onto the table loudly as you haphazardly serve her food to her.  Staring at you with an incredulous look, she wonders what the hell is going on with you. As you eat in silence, Lin tries to figure out a way to go about asking you what's wrong. After several moments pass, and you get up to clear the table, Lin decides that this is the time to strike. While you tried to swiftly grab her plate and speed walk into the kitchen, Lin quickly wrapped her arm around your waist and slid you into her lap. She pulls you closer and whispers into your ear “What's wrong princess?. You mumble back a quick “Nothing’s wrong” and try to get up, but quickly get pulled back down with Lin's grip on you tightening. Heat flares in the bottom half of your body as her words and actions start to work their magic on you. “Princess, what's wrong?”, she says as she gently sucks on your earlobe and presses her hips against your ass, making you feel the thick strap through her armor. You softly moan as you become hyper-aware of how your panties are sticking to your pussy like glue. Lin keeps asking you things like “What's wrong, baby?”, “What did I do Princess?”, “How can I fix it?”, “How can Daddy make it better?”, all while kissing, caressing, and undressing your body.

Before you knew it, you were completely naked, sitting on the edge of the table, facing Lin, moaning like the bitch in heat you are, with two fingers stuffed deep inside your cunt. “It feels so good Daddy,” you moan as you cant your hips up and tilt your head back, trying to match the rhythm of Lin's fingers. Your head is suddenly yanked down by your chin as Lin forces you to stare in her eyes. “What's wrong, baby?” “Let Daddy know so she can fix it”. You shake your head no, still feeling angry and hurt about all the times you fingered yourself and found no relief because Lin felt work was more important than you. About all the times you ate the dinner table by yourself. About all the times you cried yourself to sleep alone in your bed, missing the person you love the most. Lin pulled her fingers out of you and licked them clean. Your eyes tear up at the empty feeling, a stark reminder of what you've been going through these past couple of days. Lin wipes your tears as they trickle down your face. With all the desperation in the world, Lin asks “Y/N, please talk to me.” Just like that, the dam broke as sobs racked your body. Through tears, you blubber about how sad and lonely you've been without Lin. “Oh lovely, I'm sorry,” “I should've known,” she says as she wraps your legs and arms around her body and carries you to the living room.

She grabs tissues from the coffee table, sits you both down onto the couch, and starts to wipe your face. She rubs your back and continues to wipe your tears away until your sniffles finally cease. The silence slowly breaks down as you and Lin converse back and forth about her coming home more and spending time with you. “I'll come home no later than 7 pm unless it's an absolute emergency.”, “You promise?”, “I promise.”, “And no more doing work at home”, “Alright, no work at home”, “But no more holding in your feelings, if you need me, you have to let me know.”, “I can't fix it what you don't tell me”, “Okay, I'll try to communicate what I need from you from now on.”, “Thank you.”  Silence fills the air again as you two settle comfortably into each other. You're shifting your body to the right when you feel something poking your butt. Your face screws up in confusion as you wiggle your hips again, trying to figure out what's under you. Lin grabs your hips and chuckles just as the solution to your confusion smacks you in the face. “I forgot I had that on,” Lin says with a smirk. Warmth starts to spread its way throughout your honeypot, jogging many memories of what went down at the table. “Lin, I need you”, opening your legs as you start to rub little circles on your clit. “I need you to fix it, Daddy”, you say with a whimper and a pout. Strong hands snake down your body as Lin picks you up out of your lap and sits you on the couch.

She kneels in front of you and begins to make love to your pussy. She sucks on your beautiful, meaty lips and kisses your long, puffy hood. Quivers rack your body as Lin sucks your clit while sticking her tongue inside you. “Does that feel good?” Lin muffles from below. “Yes Papa, feels so good,” you say  while pushing her face closer. The affirmations revs Lin up even more. She shoves her face even deeper and ups her assault on your pussy. Your moans fill the air as you start getting close. “I'm so close baby, please don't stop”, you whine.  You can feel Lin smiling against you when she asks, “What do you need from me baby, tell me, tell Daddy.”. With a loud moan, your head tilts back and you choke out “I need to come, Daddy, I need to come so bad.”. “You want to come, princess?” Lin utters back to you while sucking hard on your clit and pressing hard on your G-spot. You scream back in pleasure a loud “Yes!” as you squeeze around Lin's fingers. “Do it then, baby.” Lin responds smugly, “Let go.”. As soon as you heard that, you started to cream, shake, and scream in ecstasy. Your entire body racks with shakes as your head shoots back with your eyes rolling back and mouth dropping open. These waves of pleasure made you blind to everything around you. Finally, after what felt like a delicious forever, you came to reality. You pull your head up and open your eyes to Lin looking down on you smiling softly in her wife beater and a pair of sweatpants. You definitely don't miss the bulge in her pants where your second orgasm awaits.

Lifting your face up by your chin, Lin starts softly kissing your beautiful lips. The kisses grow more and more passionate as Lin climbs on top of you. “Make love to me.” , you whisper lovingly. Lin softly touches your foreheads together as she pulls out her strap. She teases your entrance by rubbing the tip of the strap against your lips. Taking her time, she slowly pushes the strap in and out, coating it in your juices. Finally, she pushes it in all the way until your hips are flush together. Your eyes make contact with hers and you nod your head yes, signaling your consent. With that one gesture, she starts thrusting in and out of you, in the exact way she knows you like it. Fast, rough, and deep. The only sounds in the room are Lin's dirty words, your angelic moans, and the filthy sound of your wet cunt getting absolutely fucking destroyed. “You like it when I fuck you like a dirty whore?” Lin grunts out as she pushes your legs to your shoulders. “Yes, I love it when you fuck me like a dirty whore!”, You scream out. “You hear your pretty, wet pussy making all that noise baby?” “You hear what I do to you?” Lin questions. Enthusiastically, you reply back, “Yes, yes I hear it, you're the only one who gets my pussy this wet!” You moan out. “The only one, Papa!”. Lin laughs in pleasure as she continues to drive her hips deeper inside of you. You moans get louder and louder and Lin gets faster and faster. you throw your hands out and bring Lin close so that y'all are chest to chest. She moves her hands to behind your knees in order to keep your legs against your shoulders. You feel your pussy throbbing as you start to get closer. “I'm so close, I'm gonna cum.” you choke out. “Lin, I love you so much.”, you say with all the love in your heart. The side of Lin's face presses into your as emotion overcomes her, “I love you too angel, you're the center of my universe, the essence of my being.”

Rhapsodies dance throughout Lin's body as she watches you orgasm. This is always her favorite part. People always wonder how she can derive so much pleasure from giving to you and getting nothing back, but they'll never get it. They'll never understand the emotional intoxication she gains from you cumming. How your abs tighten, breast jiggle, nipples harden, and pussy plumpen with delectation. After coming down from the heavenly cosmos, Lin cleans you, the strap, and the couch up. You take your time getting up, sore from your favorite couple's activity, so that you can make your way to the bedroom bathroom.

When you get in there, you quickly take a shower and get dressed so that you could give Lin some much deserved aftercare. Like a wind whirl, you speedily started a fancy bubble bath filled with epsom salt, rose petals, essential oils, the whole shebang. Your lighting candles and putting 50s classics when Lin makes her presence known. Leaning against the doorframe, looking sexy like she always does, asks you “What are you doing?”. You respond nonchalantly, “Giving you aftercare.” Lin groans and rolls her eyes, saying “How many times do I need to tell you , I don't need aftercare.” Rolling your eyes back, you gently grab Lin and tell her “Everybody needs aftercare, even you.”. Kissing her with all the love and gentleness in the world, you undress her and lead her into the bath. 

You take all pins out of her hair and begin to give her a full body massage. She relaxes the bath and murmurs a low, soft “Thank you.”. WIthout hesitation, you reply "You never have to thank me for taking care of you, I love you.” 

[besideprimroseshade]

ᴳᵒᵈ ⁱˢʰ ᵀʷˢᵗ ˣ ⁱᵐᵐᵒʳᵗᵃˡ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ CH: 2

CH: 1

"I'm getting excited on the contrary"

TW: Suggestive comments

    Y/N's current alias:

    Ell Clocke

    Alias No. 161

    Date: 1300

    "Why would you pick that book out of all?  I mean, it's nothing more than some fanatic's fantasy.  Nothing worth contemplating about".  He sighs and you shoot back Will you shut up for a few minutes?  I'm trying to read, you know, do something actually productive.  Instead of listening to whatever crap that comes outta your mouth.  Idle chatter should I say?"  He huffs "Ugh!  This is why you dropped out of school, my professors would be sorely disappointed in such a lackluster person like yourself".  You remember what page you're on and set your book to the side "Good thing I don't suck up to professors then, unlike someone here.  People actually enjoy my presence, dunno if you've noticed, but everyone here would kill you if it were legal".  He blanches and mutters something "Y-you're wrong, such a notion is inconceivable.  The people adore me, a brain such as mine surely deserves respect!" you shrug "Tell that to the townspeople, everyone here fucking hates you, and the fact that you with your great brain can't see that your holier-than-thou attitude is the reason why you don't have anyone who would actually care if you died is something..."

    "Wait... are you revealing to me that you wouldn't care if I died?" he freezes, a sort of realization washing over him.

    "Wow, the great mind finally realized.  What did you expect?  Me to cry when you die?  The guy who said that I'll be nothing 'cause I got B's and not A+'s?  The guy who every day told me that my dreams weren't anything, that mom and dad just had me to compare my dullness to your brightness?  You should've been a comedian instead of a scholar, 'cause that's too fucking funny".  Your words cut like the sharpest of ice, frigid and unforgiving.  

    "I... I was joking!  Of course you couldn't take a joke, you're too sensitive..." comes the attempt to shake away the guilt.

  "At least I can feel things…” you quip back.     He takes a furious sip of his tea and coughs it out “W-what curious concoction is this?  This is surely not my tea!”.  Your eyes move to the snow white Persian cat in the corner of the parlor, lazing on her pillow.  Cotton, your mother’s most prized pet, a spoiled cat given as a gift from your father.  “Oh, Cotton peed in the cup, it must’ve slipped my mind to inform you…”

    The memory fades as you fade back to your tea, the faces swirling like the milk in the tea.  “That damned dipshit” you utter before grabbing a broom and flinging open your front door.  Your porch was decently decorated, with starch white paint on the walls and the beams supporting up the thing.  Thankfully the paint did not contain lead, or maybe it did, that might’ve explained why the townspeople avoided you like you were crazy.  A few plants in pots stood in neat rows by the front window, delicate little flowers grown from a variety of seeds.  But now was not the time to admire your handiwork.  Angrily sweeping your front porch and ignoring the clouds of dust that plague your vision.  Your brother never did get his dream…     You learned that for all of his labor, he was only remembered as a pretentious wannabe who tried so hard to make it big in the world of knowledge that he ended up only becoming famous for his attempts.  A local legend of your town.  After centuries of him being dead, you were still petty.       Continuing your furious sweep you barely notice the child staring at you from behind one of the poles.  Only stopping your sweep to take a few breaths, “What do you want kid?” You turn to meet their gaze.  A tiny lanky thing, who probably didn’t even reach your hip, with striking eyes the same shade as the blazing garnet ring your least favorite aunt always showed off.  Thick dark hair that reminded you of ink, silky and black, cut short above their shoulders.  Their outfit prim, with a neat white shirt dark brown pants.  Their ears confirmed that they were a fairy, small and pointed.       “You appear to be angered with something” they observe with a voice so quiet it seemed hardly a whisper.  They stand there, hiding, unsure of whether to approach the curiously angry stranger, or run off back into the forest.  “Just blowing off some steam” you reassure them before leaning your broom against the wall.  “I’m not gonna hurt you, ‘sides, you’d probably be more of a threat to me than vice versa” you admit, watching as their grip on the pole lightens, a few creaks from the wood reverberating off the porch’s roof.  “So uh… what brings you to my place?  Pure curiosity?  Or did I anger a fae?”  You continue, waiting for any sort of reaction.         “I hast stumbled upon your abode by chance, tis an interesting place.  Any sane human would place their home as far as possible from a fairy.  But your abode is right in the middle of our territory.  I can feel the magic everywhere” they respond at last.     

    “I’m not like most humans…” you say, half joking half seriously.  “I can feel that, there is something heavy around you.  Many feelings are wound up inside you, like a boiling pot of stew, ready to bubble over and burn at any second” comes their swift response.  “Thanks for the reading… but I don’t have anything to give ya’ unless you’re hungry for some leftover bread and cheese from this mornings meal” you admit.  They shake their head, “No thank you, my lady said to never trust strangers.  There is no shortage of people willing to take advantage of you”.  You nod slowly “Your lady is right, tis better to be safe then found dead in a ditch I suppose”.       “Shall I call you something?”     “Fae never give out their names”     “That’s right, you’ve got good instincts too”     “Are you going to give me your name?”     “Nah”

    That was the beginning of your encounters with that little faerie.  He never did give you his name, but simply told you that it was similar to a flower.  You ended up telling him your name though, so that he would stop calling you the ‘abnormal human’.  He wasn’t wrong though, normal humans weren’t immortal.  Normal humans didn’t challenge gods in hopes of death.  Normal humans didn’t use their fathers invitation to a school and assumed his identity.  You learned more about your little visitor.  He was a servant of nocturnal fae’s princess.  A little bat fae at the very bottom of the fae hierarchy, raised in luxury.  Trained to serve his lady’s every whim.  What a dreary existence… you thought. 

    In exchange for tidbits about his life you gave him some from yours.  How you challenged a god and got immortality in return.  “You are an idiot” he thought aloud as he took a spoon from one of your cabinets and grabbed a dish labeled for him.  “What is this?” He inquired suspiciously “A treat, leftovers from a friend’s party” you reply.  The little fae sniffed it curiously before digging in.  “Pear…” he said at last before finishing the dessert in a few seconds.       “Someone’s hungry” you grab a few cherries from a basket full of farmer’s market goods.  "That is none of your concern" he comments.  "Damn, you're quick to anger" you slightly tease.

    That was the last time you saw him that small, he never did grow much taller.  But there was something different about him, not just that he was visibly different.  But he seemed different, bore a different air about him, something sickening, but you could never put a finger on it.  It was unsettling, the curious gleam in his scarlet eyes faded away in favor of a hateful sheen.  His slit pupils constantly in a state of fury.  How he shook off your concern with a glare, was this how your parents felt with you?  His hair was now welcome to dyed streaks of red, a unique choice for sure. 

    You dabbed one of his more severe wounds with a cotton ball.  "Humans can never keep their hands to themselves" you mutter as you rub a salve on his injured arm.  Tone akin to a chiding parent's as you clean and bandage his arm.  "Tut tut, I told you not to play with those mean boys and their toys", the boys in question being men and the toys being weapons.  "You're not my parent dumbass" to which you shake your head teasingly "I know, but seeing you grow up to be such a strong fighter has certainly had some sort of parental affect on me".  He side-eyes you "That's so fucking sweet it's annoying...".  Playfully wacking the top of his head you smile "Language little one..."

"Fuck you" he mutters irritated.

"No one will sadly..." you respond with a sigh.

"I hate you"

"Such is the fate of every parent, I suppose.  Whatever happened to that sweet little faerie I encountered?  Now there's just this crass thing in his place"

   •✧• Centuries later •✧•

    Current Alias

    Hanakoto Y/N

    Orientation went smoothly, you personally didn't care which dorm you were placed in, so long as you'd be left alone for the most part.  You rolled your shoulders back as you stepped up to meet the gaze of the Dark Mirror.  For some reason the Ceremonial Robes felt heavier upon your arms.  As if they were weighing you down... pulling you away from your fate.  Feeling the hundreds of eyes staring at you with a variety of emotions.  The weight of their gaze not helping. 

    You stared at the Mirror as it boomed the familiar words to you that it had to many students before you.

   "The shape of thy soul is..."

   "Tenacious... therefore you are fit for Pomefiore"

    As you walk down the steps to the crowd of Pomefiore students, you hear a scoff.  Turning to face the student you're face to face with some pretty blonde student with tacky violet ends and amethysts for eyes.  "Is there a problem?" you scoff back.  He glares at you before turning back to see what new students would be joining him.  Grumbling about "potatoes".  You take an empty spot between a couple of fellow first years.  "The fuck is his problem?" you mutter glaring daggers at the back of his head. 

    Vil Schoenheit could feel holes being bored into the back of his head, probably from that insolent potato that he just bothered to stare at.  What was their problem?

   The dinner at your new dorm was luxurious, it felt like the dinners that fae had described to you, while the Queen of Briarland was entertaining nobles. There were plates piled high with delicacies, food that you had only read about, it was absolutely delicious, but that damned student from earlier kept shooting you glares.  As if everything you did earned his ire.  Like he was personally offended by your existence...  You were from a family of farmers but damn, his attitude towards you was worse than those falsely compassionately officals that pretended to take pity on the plight of farmers.  The same people that made it possible for them to stuff their faces with rich sauces and soups, those addicting desserts and prized drinks. 

    Not to mention that blonde with the bob who sat next to him kept smiling and complimenting him, lathering on the praise for him until it creeped you out.  You could've mistaken him for your brother, always showering famous scholars that he encountered with so much praise you thought that he was in love with them.  Those crusty old men who sat pondering alongside other crusty men who agreed with their every word.  This guy was more of a devout worshipper than fellow student.  What made him so good that someone would treat him like a god, or perhaps, what made him so rich?  So worthy of being praised, so worthy of being devoted to?  How curious...

    You were currently writing down your record of the first week of school, the classes, the teachers, the many students from all walks of life.  Finishing each sentence with a flourish.  You set your journal down.  You learned that the blonde with violet eyes was some model named Vil Schoenheit.  And the blonde with the bob was Rook Hunt.  Two insignificant people that you'd probably forget in a couple of centuries... or well, that's what you assumed at first...

    Resting your back against the wall you inhale quietly, your mind taking you back to the memories of a bygone era, a bygone you.  "Whatever became of that faerie?" you mutter standing up from your spot.  Stretching your arms you toss the journal into your bag.  You hadn't heard much about him after he left, you never learned his name after all, it was hard to look for someone when you didn't know a basic fact about them.  Did he die in the war?  Did he have a family?  Those questions would continue to go unanswered most likely.  You missed him, that nocturnal fae that you watched grow up, the fae brought up by royalty, a mere peasant by hierarchy's standards.  But status didn't matter to you, and he appreciated that. 

    That was then however, this is now.  Seeing the students rush to classes, take their time chatting with friends, and teachers exchanging lesson plans.  The similar sights of your school back when you were mortal.  You sat by yourself at lunch time, occupying yourself by listening in on the busy chitter.  Sitting silently as you picked at the your meal for today, pondering at the pangs in your chest that struck as you reminisced about a time no longer.  Idly poking at the lukewarm pile of mashed potatoes with your fork, taking small bites of the tender steak.  Too caught up in your memories to savor the flavors of the meat. 

╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗

Author's Thoughts

Scarlet-eyed fae - 'A good kid. Deserved better in life'

Vil Schoenheit - 'Nothing worth mentioning, dunno why he's famous'

Rook Hunt - 'desperate, fucking desperate'

╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝

A/N: thank you guys for being so patient!! have a wonderful day/afternoon/night :>

[25centsoda]

DinLuke Fic in honor of AO3 Down

Chapter 1 of my five-chapter wip (currently getting my ass kicked by chapter 3) to feed the starving masses on this terrible day of AO3 Down. Fic and summary subject to change by the time I finish, edit, and finally post it. Fair warning this chap is 9 pages on my google doc.

Summary: After rescuing Grogu, Din retired to a quiet life as a lighthouse keeper with his son. Unfortunately, his life is determined to be anything but quiet.

Tags: Mermaid au, DinLuke, Din Djarin, Grogu, Luke Skywalker, Cara Dune, Moff Gideon, Darth Vader, Emperor Palpatine, Little Mermaid-ish, fantasy au, modern au, AAC, autistic Grogu, nonspeaking Grogu, Din was a hitman

EDIT: AUGH apparently AO3 came back up while I was posting. Was supposed to be down for 3 more hours...smh. Anyways, enjoy ig!

There was a merman lying on the rocky beach, above the tidal line, not twenty feet away.

Din rubbed his eyes. Blinked. The merman was still there.

He turned around.

Turned back.

Still there.

His gaze drifted up to the clouds as he thought, mind churning like stormy waves. Had he had breakfast that morning? Or water? Dehydration did things to the brain, right? Maybe the kid had kept him up too late and he was dreaming…

A rock landed very near his foot. He looked down.

The merman was waving to him. Propped up on one pale arm, with blue…gills? Fins? Waving merrily just behind his ears. There were more fins along the back of each arm. He was smiling and mouthing something, but no sound was coming out.

Din better not be hallucinating.

He picked his way across the rocks and stopped in front of the…fish. Man. Gods above, there were scales on this man’s bare stomach, and just below his belly button the skin faded entirely into blue scales, and his lower half was…

The merman flapped his tail, silently laughing. It slapped the ground with a wet sound.

Din could only stare.

The merman waved his hand, bringing Din’s attention back to his face, which was unfairly beautiful, a fact that Din elected to ignore. He began signing animatedly and mouthing something, but it wasn’t any sign language Din knew, and he’d never been great at reading lips.

Din shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t understand.”

The merman stopped signing with a huff. He bit his lip, looking around. There wasn’t much to see. This beach was isolated—that’s why Din had chosen it. There was nothing around except for chunks of pale rocks in varying sizes, the water, and, distantly, grassy dunes. And the lighthouse Din was paid to keep.

“Hold on,” Din said. He got several steps away before another thrown rock reminded him to say, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get something that will help.”

It was a long walk back to the lighthouse, but it was a walk he made every other day, to ensure that nothing weird or dangerous had washed up. And it was a good thing, too, because evidently something had washed up. Or…someone? Din wasn’t really sure how to refer to a literal merman. He still wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing.

Grogu was waiting at the door for him, one little hand holding the doorframe as he leaned out of it, waving his device. “Ba!” he shouted. His black hair fell into his face—Din needed to cut it soon—as he looked down to make selections. As Din neared, the device read out, “Dad where go? Why back soon?”

Din tousled his son’s hair. “Just came back to grab something real quick, buddy. I’ve gotta go out again.”

Grogu tilted his head in question.

Din passed him, entering the kitchen. “I don’t know what I’ve found. Somebody that needs help, I think.”

.

.

.

Din made his way back to the beach. The merman was still there. Din wished he had thought to grab himself a bottle of water, or a snack or something, but the fact that the man was still there boded well for Din’s mental faculties, if not for the logic of the universe.

“Can you read English? D’you even know English? Do you know what I’m saying?”

Din felt stupid, talking to some hallucination-man-fish-thing, but the man nodded, so Din took that as a yes.

“Okay. Uh, well I have this.” He held out the communication board that he had brought. It was laminated—they all were, so that they would last longer—so it wouldn’t be bothered by the fact that the man reaching out a hand to take it was still dripping wet. Din had grabbed the hospital board rather than any of the core boards or fringe vocabularies, thinking that it would be the most useful. It wasn’t like Grogu already had a single-page board for mermaid trapped on the beach, and Din figured that the man was likely to be injured or hurting in some way, being so far up on the rocks. “Point to whatever you want to say.”

The merman examined the green board with interest, front and back. He seemed to read every icon carefully. The back had the alphabet and “YES”/”NO” along the bottom, a section labeled “I WANT”, a section labeled “I AM”, “I WANT TO SEE”, and a section containing icons for yes, no, thank you, stop, pen/paper. The front had pictures of a blank, uncolored body showing the front and back view with a pain scale in the middle, and icons describing different types of pain like itches, stings, can’t move. Along the sides of the front were requests for items, bathroom, and like that, don’t like, repeat that, speak louder.

After a while, Din said, “Well? Are you, uh, injured, or anything?”

The man scanned the board again, and finally pointed to the image of a glass labeled Water. As he did so, Din noticed that his fingers were webbed halfway together, with shimmering blue, nearly-transparent webbing. He looked up at Din.

“Right. Right.” Din found himself swinging his arms as he looked around the beach. He forced himself to stop. “I can. Uh.” How heavy could a fish-man be? Probably very heavy. Still—“I can bring you back to the ocean?”

The merman shook his head vehemently, eyes wide. Din noticed for the first time that they were blue, like the man’s fins. The man pointed to the red icon labeled NO over and over.

Din held up a placating hand. “Okay, okay. No ocean. Got it.” He didn’t understand in the slightest, but the message was clear. “What if I bring up a bucket?”

The man nodded.

Din…didn’t have a bucket on him. Luckily, there was a storage shed not too far from here—there was a dock about half a mile back. Once he had a bucket and filled it with water, he hesitated.

“Do you want me to just—” Din made a motion like he was going to throw the water on him.

The man gestured for the bucket. Din handed it over. The man dipped his hand in and splashed the water on the fins sticking out of his head.

Huh. Maybe those were his gills, or…something. Din didn’t exactly know that much about fish biology. Mostly what he knew about was killing. And, slowly, how to care for a nonspeaking toddler.

“Are you lost? Are you, uh, hungry?”

The man pointed to Thank you. 

Din was suddenly seized with the urge to know—”What’s your name? If—if you can spell it.” If a merman knew English, he could spell his name in English, right? Or would it be all clicks and whistles, like a dolphin?

He watched as the man spelled L—U—K—E.

“Luke.”

A nod and a smile.

“Luke,” Din said again, and wasn’t it enough that the man had an unfairly attractive face and, if he was already admitting things to himself anyway, body? Did he have to have a name that moved in Din’s mouth like that?

N—A—M—E—?

“What?”

Luke spelled it out again.

“Oh, my name.” Gods, Din was an idiot. “It’s Din. Din Djarin.”

Din. Luke mouthed the name, smiling. Din felt like he was going to combust.

“Uh, if you’re not going to go back in the ocean…” Din paused again. Luke shook his head wildly, almost unbalancing himself. Din forged on. “...would you like to come to my house? I have a bathtub I can fill with salt water for you; it’s probably more comfortable than these rocks.”

Luke pointed to Yes.

“Okay, great.”

It was quite the job getting Luke to his house. He’d thought he was pretty strong, but they had to take several breaks for Din to catch his breath. The merman was slimy in his arms, his scales rough. Luke held on to the (emptied) bucket and the hospital communication board. By the time they got back to the house, the sun was beginning to set, Din’s arms and shirt were rubbed raw, and Grogu was angry—at least, he was until he saw what Din had in his arms.

Grogu squealed. His device read out, “Mermaid! Mermaid! Mermaid!” He did a little dance, flapping his arms and twirling excitedly in the doorway.

“Move, kid,” Din grit out, muscles shaking. Luke waved from his arms.

Grogu got out of the way and Din made it all the way into the bathroom before he had to set Luke down again lest he drop him. Luke shivered on the cold tile. Din had to reach over him to turn on the tap. Grogu waited in the doorway, watching.

“Oh—sorry, do you need salt water?”

Luke pointed to Yes, his hands shaking. His golden-blond hair was drying now, into thick waves around his gills. Some of the blue spots on his skin were turning colorless, as well, which probably wasn’t great.

“Kid, stay with him a minute, I’m gonna get salt water.” Din pulled the drain open and stood, shaking off the water.

More buckets. More trips back and forth to the shore. It took more than Din had thought to fill up the bathtub. Luke splashed himself every so often as he waited. Grogu had brought in the whole folder of laminated communication boards, and pulled down the laminated booklet on a hook from the bathtub, and he and Luke were engaged in a vibrant conversation that meant that Din had to watch where he stepped lest he slip.

Finally, the tub was full, and Din hauled Luke up one last time, and into the water. Luke slapped his tail excitedly, splashing water everywhere. Grogu squealed, raising his little hands up to the sky. Din was entranced by the water shining off Luke’s blue scales, the almost translucent…skin?...on the bottom fin, the rigid, darker blue spines that held it together.

An alarm shook Din out of his thoughts.

He stood. “I’ve got to make dinner and get everything set up for the night. Are you two good here?”

Luke held up a beach vocabulary board and pointed to Yes. Grogu squealed again, nodding vigorously.

“Try not to make too much of a mess,” Din said. He put two towels on the floor in front of the tub, which soaked up some of the water. He held back a sigh. Fighting mold was a constant battle, in a building so close to the ocean. Hopefully any mold-related damages wouldn’t get taken out of his paycheck, even if they were in the bathroom and therefore probably his fault.

Attending to his regular duties kept Din’s mind off the merman in his bathroom for a while. He stood outside long enough to get a sense of the weather, and reported it on the radio, then listened to the airwaves for a while to see if there were any nearby boaters that needed rescuing—an über-rare occurrence, on this island. He briefly entertained the idea of radioing in his “rescue” of Luke, but what would he say? “I found a merman”? Saying that would be a one-way ticket to a psych eval if not a hospital stay - in other words, losing this safe haven where he and his son lived. Besides, without the merman in front of him, the whole thing felt like a dream. A dream that left raw skin on his chest and arms. A dream he wouldn’t breathe a word about.

He walked around the perimeter of the lighthouse and the station house, noting down any damages that would need repair or repainting soon. Took inventory of foodstuffs—they were starting to run low, but a supply was due in a week, and they had the garden, as long as a storm didn’t take it out. Tended the garden—ripped out some kudzu that kept somehow finding its way onto this isolated island, squirted bugs off the rosemary with one of Grogu’s little water guns. Checked on the water filters, generators, and radio antenna. Luckily everything was in decent order in spite of a day of neglect.

The sun was well and truly set by the time that Din went back inside the station house and started making dinner—chicken fingers, Grogu’s favorite. After some hesitation, he threw some frozen fish sticks on the baking tray as well. Maybe Luke would eat them. Din hadn’t gone fishing in a few weeks; Grogu had had him working their way through a craft book Cara had brought them at the last supply drop, which didn’t leave a lot of time for much beyond his daily duties, time consuming as they were. If Luke wanted fresh fish, Din could go fishing tomorrow.

He stacked up three plates on his arms and brought them into the bathroom. Not a large bathroom to begin with, it was a crowded space between the adult, the kid, and the mermaid. Setting his own on the white marbled sink countertop, he handed a plate of chicken fingers and broccoli to Grogu and a plate of fish sticks to Luke.

“It’s fish,” he explained. “With breadcrumbs.” At Luke’s blank look, Din hastily explained, “Bread is, uh, it comes from grain, wheat, and so it’s kind of…like…well, it’s a carbohydrate. I dunno if you have those in…the ocean. Try it, and tell me if you can eat it, or if you need something else.” He sorted through Grogu’s communication boards scattered on the tile floor, and found one with ocean creatures, which he set on the rim of the bathtub.

Grogu turned his nose up at the broccoli with a huff.

“Come on, kid, you’ve gotta have vegetables.” Din was too tired to really argue the point tonight, but Grogu didn’t need to know that.

Luke reached one dripping hand out of the tub and pointed to the broccoli on Grogu’s plate, with an encouraging sort of Go on expression, nodding. The broccoli got a little damp at the touch of his pale finger. Din grimaced, sure that the salt water would ruin whatever little chance there was of getting the kid to eat his vegetables.

Grogu surprised him by digging in.

Din blinked.

Alright then. He’d keep slightly soggy in mind, on his list of ‘things that get Grogu to eat.’ Kids were mysterious creatures sometimes.

Din ate his own plate of chicken fingers and broccoli sitting on the closed toilet seat, watching the two of them interact. It was, of course, mostly silent, occasionally interspersed with one of Grogu’s noises like “ba!” Luke picked at his fishsticks (after scraping off the breading), Grogu picked at his chicken fingers. Their hands were pretty occupied with the boards. At this angle, he couldn’t see all that they pointed to, but he saw the fairytale board, ocean, and mythology. And home.

.

.

.

After they finished eating, Din cleared the plates, and let Grogu and Luke talk for another hour while he cleaned up and checked the weather again.

“Alright kid, bedtime.”

“Ba!” Grogu said angrily, his little face scrunched up. Din’s heart melted in spite of himself. 

“No, come on, it’s time for bed.”

Luke waved his hand for Grogu’s attention. Once he had it, he exaggeratedly stretched and yawned, then put his hands together and leaned his head against them, breathing big in, and out. If he was underwater, Din was sure that there would be enormous bubbles coming out of his mouth, adding to the effect.

Grogu giggled. Luke peeked with one eye and smiled, then went right back to it.

Din gathered up all the communication boards and knocked them up on the counter, making them into a neat stack. He grabbed Grogu’s hand.

“Come on, I’ll sing to you.”

Luke broke out of his acting and waved goodbye, flapping his hand.

“I’ll check on you before I go to bed,” Din promised over his shoulder. He left the door open a crack, so that Luke could hear them move around and know that he hadn’t been left in the house alone.

Luckily Grogu’s room had a bathroom attached to it, so he could still have a quick bath—the salt water he and Luke had been splashing in all evening didn’t count—and brush his teeth before bed. Din brushed his teeth beside Grogu, glad for once that he still kept his toothbrush on his nightstand instead of in the main bathroom, an old habit from more chaotic days.

Finally, Din got Grogu clean, dry, in pajamas, and tucked into bed with his favorite frog plushie.

Din knelt beside his bed with a groan, cursing old injuries and unstretched muscles. “Alright, kid, what do you want me to sing?”

Grogu made grabby hands for his device. Din pulled it off the charger and handed it over. Grogu navigated through the pages swiftly, before finally selecting, “Sun.”

“Alright.” Din cleared his throat, and began to sing. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me hap-py, when skies are gray.”

Grogu snuggled down in his blankets, clutching his favorite Froggie close to his chest, watching Din with absolute love and trust in his eyes. It made Din’s heart clench. Stars, he loved this kid. He would move heaven and earth for him. He had, when he’d rescued him. Although really, it was Din that had been rescued that day.

He reached a hand out and caressed the soft brown hair atop Grogu’s head. “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take, my sun-shine a-way.” He kissed his son’s forehead. “You all ready for sleep, big guy?”

Grogu squealed softly.

“Alright.” Din pressed his forehead to Grogu’s one last time as he took his device and set it on the bedside table, and turned out the light. “If you need anything, just yell.”

He closed the door softly, leaving just a crack to let light through.

Luke was waiting in the bathroom, arms folded on the rim of the bathtub, his head resting on top. He perked up when Din came in, but not much.

“How’s your, uh, oxygen?”

Luke gave a thumbs up.

“Tired?”

Luke nodded.

“Yeah, me too.” His muscles were certainly sore from lugging all that water and the merperson. He needed to work out more, probably. As busy as this job kept him, it didn’t maintain his physical fitness the way he used to. He’d let himself get…soft, as Grogu’s dad.

“You good for the night? Need any fresh water?”

Luke shook his head. Thankfully. Din didn’t particularly want to go out in the pitch dark. It would be hard to hold a flashlight and a full bucket at the same time.

“Can you write?” At Luke’s nod, Din took out a weather resistant notepad and pen and set them on the rim of the bathtub beside Luke’s head. “We’re expecting a supply run in a day or so. If you need anything, or want anything, I can radio shore and have it delivered then.”

The merman perked up. Thank you!!! he wrote, with three exclamation marks. Din huffed a laugh.

Luke wrote, head bowed, for a while. Din watched his golden hair, long dried except around his…gills, bounce softly, reflecting the overhead light. It was mesmerizing, like watching light bounce off of water.

When Luke held up the notepad again, Din had to shake himself a little to refocus.

Salmon

Oysters

Something soft to lay on the side

Something I can help you with, as payment for taking me in

Din blinked. “I don’t need you to help me with anything.”

Luke’s gaze was pleading. No: Begging.

Din shook his head. “Really. Most of my job you can’t help me with anyway; unless you can repaint the lighthouse or pull weeds.”

Luke frowned, his lip stuck out. Din couldn’t help having a little thrill at the sight. It was adorable.

“Really! I guess I could…” He really thought about it. He supposed…that the counter could use a little basket for his keys. One of Grogu’s favorites from the craft book was basket-weaving. He could show Luke how to do it, and thus keep them both occupied, and Luke could feel useful. “Do you know how to weave baskets?”

Luke nodded eagerly.

“I’ll collect some materials for you from the wildflower garden tomorrow. Grogu can help.” Din broke off with a yawn. “I’ll tell our supplier to get the rest of it. Sleep well.”

Luke pointed at Din and mimed sleeping, with his head on his hands, then nodded as if to say You too.

Din smiled and turned to go. He paused in the doorway with his hand on the light switch.

“On or off?”

Luke tilted his head, brow furrowed. To demonstrate, Din flicked the lights off, then back on. Then again, saying out loud which was which.

“Thumbs up, on. Thumbs down, off.” He showed how to do it as he spoke. Luke gave a thumbs down. “Lights off it is,” he said, turning them off. “Goodnight. See you in the morning.”

He left the door cracked open again and made his way up the stairs, stifling a yawn.

He wouldn’t be surprised if the bathroom was empty in the morning. Weirder things had happened.

Although, if he was honest with himself—no, weirder things hadn’t happened. Sure, he’d had some odd jobs in his old life, but none of it had involved the supernatural. No, it was all kingpins and businessmen and whistleblowers, hackers, grifters, thieves, and the occasional unopened suitcase. Once, on his last job, a child. Never a merman.

Well, this made two that he’d kept instead of killed. Two that he’d saved.

He’d definitely gone soft.

But he found…he didn't mind it.

[henneseyhoe]

1| KILLA HOTLINE

You get home from a long day. You kick your heels to the side and take off your coat with a huff of exhaustion. You had worked from the ass crack of dawn till midnight, only getting naps in between hours in my car before going back to work, but it seemed like it was never enough. your body was so tired you even left your purse and work bag in your car, too tired to carry them both up to the penthouse. You loved your job so much, but it was tiring. Treating people was your dream and you wouldn’t trade it for the world, it’s just you barely had time for yourself the more your career climbed, and though you loved your job, you also loved spoiling yourself. You loved going to different countries, buying clothes, and shoes, all of that, but you couldn’t do all of that recently with your busy schedule.

You continue on down the elongated hall and headed up the stairs to your master bedroom. slamming the door shut and jumping on your bed, your eyes slowly began to shut and a sense of calm rested in your body, but you soon noticed that’s all that happened. You weren’t drifting to sleep at all, even with not getting good sleep in all those naps you took at work. Sighing to yourself, you opened your eyes back up and stared at the ceiling. Minutes pass and you decided to just accept your failure in falling asleep, sluggishly pulling your phone out of your back pocket and opening it up. your eyes went into an immediate squint with the brightness shining into your face, making you whimper.

You lowered the devices screen light and sighed, beginning to look through your text messages and emails. Upon looking through the emails, your eyes spotted one in particular that made your eyebrow raise. ‘Diamond Studs?’ You questioned, confused as to what that was. Clicking on the email to open it, you began reading, realizing it was an invite to that same male stripclub your friends have been raging about. Making a stank face at your screen, your eyes rolls. “I know these bitches did not sign my email up for updates on this damn sausage club” you said, still scrolling and reading the email.

Though the club was raunchy as hell, you couldn’t help but applaud the person who edited and sent out these emails. It was typed out with witty little sexual jokes, not too sexual but sexual enough to make a middle aged woman who hasn’t had dick in years fan her face. Scrolling down, you saw pictures of a few of the strippers who worked there, and they were absolutely gorgeous. Still wouldn’t walk into that place confidently though. Upon gawking at the pictures, your finger slipped and went upwards, sending you all the way down to the bottom of the page.

“Damnit” you huffed, forced to wipe away the dirty thoughts that clouded your head. Coming back to your senses, you decided to read what was at the bottom then carry on, seeing that there were numerous company numbers listed to call at the bottom. “I know these ain’t what I think they is…” you mumbled, reading the names and details of the numbers. One in particular made you chuckled, the name reading ‘Killa Hotline; your wildest fantasy’. You laughed “Okay Houdini hotline. ‘Fantasy’…okay”

You thought for a bit, thinking about if you were feeling bold enough to call the number. ‘Come on, Y/N, don’t be pussy. You can’t sleep anyway’ you thought, humming to yourself. Your finger hovered over the button before you finally got the courage to click the number, pressing call. You took a deep breathe and put the phone to your ear, the electronic vibrating with the tone before someone picked up.

✮✮✮✮

Let’s see if I can successfully keep this story going and actually make it to the end 😭

[clefaiiiry]

From the Airwaves to your Viscera

i wasn't kidding about finding a way to get lux into every fic ya know

not sure if this should be mature or explicit but hwei does have cannibalistic fantasies so ya know

now i can stop tormenting you all with incessant fic posting! for now :)

Read on AO3

Read on Tumblr - Under Read More

-~*~-

There’s a crick in Hwei’s neck, as there often is.

Before him, his canvas stares back, blank as it had been hours ago. His inspiration is a rusty old tap; when it flowed it was a raging tide, the only problem was unscrewing the damn thing.

Hwei spins his chair away from his easel and lets out a long, gravelly whine as he rubs his face. How long has it been dark for? He hadn’t really noticed. Hwei forces himself to his feet to switch on a lamp and stretches his fingers upward to the ceiling.

When he turns, his canvas is still empty. Even when he tries really hard to force paint to magically appear, it stays empty.

He’s exhausted, but sleep won’t come so he might as well paint. But if he can’t even paint, then what is he good for-

He needs a drink. He doesn’t have any alcohol so he’ll settle for something warm. Maybe it would do him some good to pour the boiling water straight onto his wretched hands-

His kitchen nook beckons and his heavy feet drag across the splotchy floor. It certainly needs a good scrub, but he’d have to shove everything off to the side for that.

While the kettle, he paces around his apartment, and makes a vague effort to fold away some clothes, but only makes it through two shirts before he decides the laundry chair is good enough. He fumbles to make his bed, a mattress on the floor with a duvet and a pillow without a case, but that plan too rapidly falls apart as he instead flops onto it facedown with a huff.

Hwei catches his gaze in his mirror, just a little desk one he uses when he can be bothered to do his makeup, and finds he doesn’t recognise himself. His skin prickles in apprehension of his unfinished piece. He has all the tools he could possibly need, all the technical know-how, so why do his hands not work? Why can his mind conjure nothing of merit? 

Soon enough his sulking is interrupted by the whistling kettle and he pours himself some tea, sipping much too early and burning his tongue. Rain is pattering against the window when he returns to his chair, mug left too close to the edge of the desk to be safe.

Hwei switches on the radio. He’d gotten it from Lux, an old thing probably due for the bin rather than his windowsill. It sounds about ready to blow every time he turns it on and cooperates only when it feels like it, but he likes it all the same. Hwei had only upgraded to a smartphone once his old brick had finally packed in and he couldn’t find a new battery for it.

Static crackles as he switches through frequencies, until finally a voice comes through,

“-much appreciated. We’re just now approaching- two-thirty in the morning, and those of us with sense may seek to retire for the evening.” Static rumbles with the man’s chuckle. “But sense is vastly overvalued in my humble opinion.”

The voice is deep, almost melodic, its warmth burrowing its way deep into Hwei’s bones. This would do. He leans back, pulls his feet up onto his chair, and braces his mug in both hands.

The host continues, “I do hope you are all satisfied with the playlist this evening, but if you aren’t then I’m afraid your other options are lacking. I don’t believe anyone else in the area runs this late anymore, so you’re stuck with me, poor thing.”

Hwei hums, lips twitching in a little smile as he goes for another attempt at his tea. It’s still not quite cool enough, but he doesn’t scald his lips this time. He leans forward to listen,

“Now, I’d like to let these next three play in their entirety. Now, if you’re a returning listener you’ll know I prefer instrumental pieces, but I can be persuaded to tolerate vocals.”

The host’s chuckle draws one from Hwei, like sharing the room with him.

The host goes into particulars regarding the upcoming songs before he lets them play. First is a gradual build of a quiet piano and strings that eventually crescendos in a resounding tidal wave, the next carries the intensity with strings and light synth, before the final song returns to a gentle lull with soft male vocals.

Together the songs feel like a journey, an adventure to the highest peak of a forgotten mountain. Like he’d trudged through sleet and snow to reach the very top, then slowly worked his way back down to earth.

A climb to the divine… and a fall back to mortality.

Hwei drops his mug on the desk with a loud thunk. If it had spilt, he didn’t notice, there were more important matters to focus upon. His hands move of their own accord, colours vibrant on the canvas. Jagged cliffs pierce the sky, a tattered hand breaking through to claw at the horizon, a single beam of heavenly guidance reaching back-

At least, that’s what they could be, what he intends for them to be. Art is rarely so straightforward.

He steps back and takes it in, tilts his head, is amazed to find he doesn’t hate it after staring at it for more than ten seconds. It’s still rough, needs a touch up on the uglier lines, but it’s progress, more than he’s had in weeks. 

Something rumbles at his ears and he realises the radio has died into static. The show must be over. Hwei stares at it for a moment longer before he takes note of the frequency on a little scrap of paper, then finally switches it off.

-~*~-

The moment he sees it again, Hwei hates his canvas.

In the light of morning he picks apart every stroke and smudge of paint he’d subjected upon that poor thing and finds a potent nausea bubbling in his stomach. The image is too bleak, too morbid, torn flesh shattering upon sharp blades of stone.

He considers shattering his fingers, placing them in the window and slamming it down until they’re broken and just as useless as they feel.

Suppressing the thought, he removes it from the easel and leans it against the wall, facing away. If he had to look at it any longer he was going to vomit. No, that was a bit dramatic, but he would certainly fantasise about tossing it out of the window. But what if it hit someone on the way down? He’d never forgive himself.

Once again, Hwei entertains the idea of cleaning his apartment and makes it as far as taking out the rubbish before he realises how late it is. He fumbles to scrounge up a full outfit from his floor, grabs his bag, and almost forgets to lock the door on the way out.

Not like there would be anything worth stealing.

-~*~-

The Crownguards come from the sort of old money Hwei could only ever dream of. While Hwei had got Lux a new plant pot for her succulent, her older brother had casually bought her, among other things, a new car. The way she said the make made it sound important, but he didn’t really know enough about that sort of thing to judge.

“You know,” Lux says as she turns the little pot over in her hands, “I prefer this.” It’s a little ceramic cream one shaped like a sheep with big shiny eyes and pink cheeks.

“You don’t have to say that,” Hwei says. She pouts.

“I’m serious! Larry looks so sad in his current pot, he needs a spruce up! This is perfect!”

She places it in the centre of the table and stares intently, as if another plant might sprout up if she wills for it hard enough. She’s deep in thought when she suddenly jerks and clasps her hands together.

“Oh! I got you something too!”

“Now hold on,” Hwei says, “it’s your birthday. You’ve got this backwards.”

Lux rolls her eyes. “Well, my birthday present to me is getting a treat for my friend! Ta-dah!”

The wrapping paper is almost too nice to tear, done up with a little ribbon and bow. Hwei mourns it before he begins to carefully peel from the taped edges. She’s bouncing in her seat by the time he finally folds it back.

Within the paper is a little wooden box, reminiscent of the sort one would expect to find a ballerina dancing inside. A golden crest adorns the lid, one that makes his stomach drop.

“Lux, I can’t accept this, it’s too much-”

“Don’t be silly! I insist!”

People are starting to stare so he accepts defeat and cradles the box in his arms like a wounded animal. He feels like crying.

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it! Hopefully this helps with the ol’ art block!”

A cold, heavy rock lodges itself into his throat. She’s staring at him with that huge, toothy grin and bright eyes, like she sees something he doesn’t.

Like she doesn’t see what he sees when he looks in the mirror.

A part of him wants to throw them back at her, as if it could ever be that simple! A darker part is tempted to throw it into the street just to make a point. But he doesn’t, because he knows she doesn’t mean it like that, that she’s just trying to be supportive and helpful.

The cold spreads downward into his lungs and he stares into his cup. Besides, why couldn’t it be that simple? He has sparks of inspiration all the time, why can’t he just create without second guessing himself? Without creating something hideous?

“Oh,” Lux says, breaking him from his stupor, “so I met up with Quinn the other day and-”

He’s grateful for the change of subject, especially since he isn’t expected to say much beyond the odd, ‘oh really?’ or ‘that’s nuts.’ She does try to prompt more of a contribution at first, but quickly realises it’s one of those days so lets him listen in peace.

Then she starts to fidget, her gaze lingering through the window. Lux purses her lips and taps an arrhythmic pattern into her cup with her nails. She’s had them done recently. They look nice, better than Hwei’s. His are still chewed and chipped, due a fresh coat of polish.

“What’s wrong?” Hwei asks and she nearly jumps out of her seat.

“Well, I- So urh, my aunt is running an art show between Christmas and New Year?”

“Oh. That’s cool.”

“Yeah!”

The silence that lingers between them drags on for much longer than he’d prefer. Lux finally sighs and sits up straight. She’s taller than him, but only because of how appalling his posture is, puffing up her chest to earn that extra inch or two.

“I think you should enter.”

Yep, about what he expected. Hwei shrugs. “I’m not sure…” he lies. He knows damn well what is stance is regarding such things-

“I like your stuff! And I’m sure other people would too, if you gave it a chance. It’s really great!”

He knows his work holds objective quality, on a technical level at least, but that stands for naught when it’s about as shallow as a child’s paddling pool. Not like he can help it; he can’t best the part of him which dreads what he��ll find if he digs any deeper.

Hwei finds his feet are suddenly deeply fascinating as he struggles to meet her intense stare. She deflates.

“Look, I don’t want to pressure you or whatever, I just- I really want more people to see your work. To really see the stuff you can do!”

“I-” He’s about to argue when he sees her face again and curse his humanity. Hwei rubs the bridge of his nose. “Let me see if I can finish something, and I’ll think about it.”

“You’re the best!”

Lux’s grin should be comforting, but it only twists the cold knife in his stomach even deeper.

-~*~-

When the radio crackles to life the following evening, Hwei can finally put a name to the voice.

Khada Jhin.

The music is pleasant enough to fill the silence and Hwei very rarely finds himself disapproving of the song selection. There are duds, of course, albums Jhin will sing the praises of while Hwei frowns through the set, but they just make him appreciate the good ones all the more. If anything, the alternative perspective is refreshing.

Jhin isn’t live every night, only Monday through to Thursday from one o’clock till five, but Hwei diligently listens to most of his shows. He doesn’t even do it consciously after a while, simply finds himself huddled by his desk with the soothing static. His sleep schedule is royally, completely screwed, but it’s not like he’d sleep even if he weren’t listening, and the routine is… nice.

Who was he kidding, the reason he kept tuning in was to listen to Jhin’s voice. That warm, comforting cadence has thoroughly imprinted itself into his soul and he’s shamefully addicted to the sound of it.

Hwei wonders if this is how a cosmonaut feels while they’re up in space, observing life below from afar. Out of reach but so very real. He also ponders on how long he’ll stay adrift before he runs out of air.

Jhin doesn’t talk that much, probably a thirty-seventy split on talking and music if Hwei had to put a number on it, but he listens to every word. Jhin speaks like an old friend one hadn’t seen for years, regaling tales of his life with all the theatrics of a playwright, and Hwei wants- needs to discover every piece of who this man is. And he does, piece by piece.

Jhin used to work as a composer, Jhin has a cat named Yuumi who he loves to death, Jhin is at least forty years old, Jhin prefers red wine over white, Jhin’s favourite flowers are lotus blossoms-

Hwei too could appreciate the beauty of lotus blossoms. He wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about flowers as a rule, but the lotus typically represented purity or rebirth, sometimes divinity depending on who you asked.

His mind wanders, stuck on the thought of how hard it would be to weed flowers blooming from one’s own skin. He feels itchy afterward, unclean.

It’s been a month since he discovered Jhin’s show. Tonight he’s playing some tracks by an artist Hwei had never heard of, but had recently gone mainstream after joining a boy group called Heartsteel. He had heard of them, but only because Lux was totally obsessed with their debut single.

“I did meet him before he lost his voice, back before he was forced into purely instrumental work,” Jhin says, almost melancholic, “a shame, really, his vocal talent was quite special. At least he’s finding success in other places.”

Hwei spares a glance to his canvas, staring back as blank as it had been hours ago. He bundles his blanket closer around his shoulders.

“Now,” Jhin’s voice guides him back like a candle in a storm, “as we are into our final hour, and because station management are getting quite particular about engagement- Urgh, we shall be opening requests again this evening. However, if any of you ask for some top forty schlock again, those privileges shall be revoked, management be damned.”

As he reads out the number, Hwei glances to where his phone is perched on the edge of his desk. He had considered ringing in at least a dozen times. What would he even ask for? He wasn’t particular, the type to say, ‘oh, I’ll listen to anything.’ It was a small roadblock, really, for an opportunity to talk to the man whose voice had kept him company for so many nights.

Hwei covers his face with a groan, his heels thumping onto the floor as he kicks his legs out.

Just pick something! Anything!

But what if he picked something Jhin didn’t like? 

Then I’ll just have to run off and start a new life in the forest-

Alright, now he really is being dramatic.

Hwei looks at his phone again, reaches out and strains his fingers across the desk until he can fumble it into his hand. He knows the number, even without Jhin repeating it. It’s so easy! Just dial it in and-

Hwei slams it back on the desk, face down, and hugs his knees up against his chest.

Another listener requests a song named The Turning of Our Bones. It’s a slow build of guitar with a gravelly vocalist, visceral in a way that tempts brush strokes from his idle hands.

A chest being torn open, ribs cracked and blood spilled. Hands carve their way into the cavity and clutch the heart within. The blood is purple, the heart is gold-

It’s only when the song ends that Hwei is struck by how morbid his creation is. Morbid, but oddly… beautiful.

He places it against the wall with the others.

-~*~-

Another few weeks pass before Hwei dials the number again. The dim screen illuminates his even darker room, thumb hovering over the call button, then he locks it and rubs his face. Jhin’s already had a few callers this evening who wanted to chat as well, so he’s probably sick of it anyway, Hwei reasons.

He spins on his chair and entertains the idea of adding to this piece, but he’s already sick of this one. It’s placed against the wall like the rest. He replaces it with a blank canvas.

The neighbours across the street have their Christmas decorations up already, the tacky LEDs making him squint every time he turns to the window. They’re not so bad, they’re a suitable excuse not to switch his own lights on.

He’s struck by how morbid it would be for someone to choke on them, be hung by them-

“I hate Christmas,” Jhin says with a sigh, “I know, I know, ‘how could I possibly?’ Yes, call me Ebenezer Scrooge. If you ask me, everything is far too loud and bright this time of year. Or perhaps I’m showing my age.” He laughs and Hwei feels the tension bleed from his shoulders.

But then he finds himself wondering, does Jhin have anyone to spend Christmas with? He’s never mentioned a partner or any family, other than Yuumi. Maybe his distaste is more personal than he lets on.

Or maybe Hwei is just projecting.

Lux would probably be going home for the holidays and, even though she’s always extended the offer for him to come with, he can’t think of anything more uncomfortable than surrounding himself with someone else’s family. He barely even knew how to act around his own.

He looks at his easel again, still blank, then to his phone, still on the desk.

Jhin continues, “it’s partially why we haven’t queued up any seasonal songs. I get sick of all of them after the first week of November. Perhaps that’s why I find myself in a rut at the moment.” Jhin gives a wistful sigh. “Nothing I put to paper passes my standards these days. My fellow creatives can relate, I’m sure.”

Did Jhin spend hours staring at his sheet music too? Wondering how to create something beautiful, something meaningful? He always seems so natural, the admission is a chip in the mask. It strikes Hwei as impossibly human.

A reminder Jhin is not the sun keeping him warm in the vastness of space but a fellow cosmonaut left adrift.

Hwei sits up and, before he can reconsider, he takes his phone and dials the number. His fingers tremble around the device as it rings, pressing it harder to his ear.

Then there’s a click.

“Hello?” he says.

“Good evening. May I take your name?”

“I- Hwei.”

“And how are you this evening, Hwei?”

His composure is rapidly depleting. “Oh, I’m…” Hwei gives a breathy little laugh, “surviving.”

Jhin chuckles and suddenly Hwei’s throat feels very dry. “A sentiment I’m sure many of us share. Now, what can I play for you, my dear?”

“I- I’d actually like to ask for your opinion on something, if I may?”

The beat of silence lasts a little too long before Jhin says, “Is that so?”

“Yes. I- I just… How do you decide if a piece is… good enough?”

His voice is so irritating, perhaps he should do everyone and favour and cut his tongue out-

Jhin hums, a low sound that seeps through his skin. “That is truly an impossible question to answer,” he says, but he doesn’t sound disappointed or, god forbid, bored. He maintains the casual tone as he continues, “what I might find valuable in a piece will certainly be different than what you do. Now, tell me, Hwei, what do you truly love about the art that speaks to you?”

“When… When I can feel how the artist has poured their soul into their work. So I suppose… empathy.” His chair creaks as he spins on it to look at his canvas. “How else can we find meaning, without empathy?”

Jhin is quiet for a moment, just long enough that Hwei nearly slams the phone down, but then he hums. “What an interesting perspective. How fascinating. Though if we limit ourselves purely to the artist’s intent, doesn’t that also limit the piece itself? A parent may have good intentions for their child, but they may also be that which suffocates them, no?”

“Y-Yes, that’s true. I’ve lost count of how many times a piece hasn’t turned out the way I planned.”

“That I can certainly relate to.”

Jhin laughs and Hwei does too. He feels a little dizzy.

“Now, as much as I would love to continue, we’ve not much time left.” Before the shame can take hold, Jhin continues, “What can I play for you this evening, Hwei?”

Hwei blinks, stares ahead blankly. The lights across the street glow green. “I… didn’t think about that part, I’m sorry to waste your time.”

Jhin tuts through his teeth. “Now, now, time enjoyed is never wasted.”

And oh, how his heart flutters. Words die in his throat before he can embarrass himself and he’s grateful that Jhin continues without pause,

“What if I pick something for you, Hwei?”

“I would like that.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint. Take care now, my dear.”

“Y-Yeah. Thank you.”

In the moments following, the dial tone is deafening. It takes him far too long to put his phone down. My dear, it feels much too tender. Jhin uses pet names for listeners all the time but for Hwei, it just felt-

Through art, connection-

As the song starts, Hwei slowly stands and turns to his easel. He opens the box of paints from Lux and takes a long, deep breath. His brush dances with the music, a quiet build of strings and flutes. In Cold Light is the title of the song, and the way the notes flow leaves him adrift in the cosmos.

Just him and his canvas, Jhin’s voice resonating in his skull.

The colours flood together, blue and gold and flecks of purple. Each brush stroke feels intimate, purposeful. He’s missed this, to simply be as he creates.

Soft petals bloom from his brush, a blanket of stars, two little figures adrift in the abyss between, reaching out to each other, outward to a blooming lotus above. Reaching for divinity, as one-

Or perhaps a new beginning? Rebirth, a cycle beginning anew-

Hwei paints through the rest of Jhin’s show, even as the music changes and the night grows older. Only when Jhin signs off and the station goes quiet is the brush finally set down.

He takes a step back and wipes his sleeve across his forehead, damp paint smudging across his skin. The canvas that stares back doesn’t disgust him, doesn’t horrify or torment.

It warms, it comforts, it inspires-

And in the quiet of his apartment, slowly growing orange in the sunrise, he wonders if Jhin would like it too.

-~*~-

“It’s beautiful.”

Hwei shuffles awkwardly as Lux marvels at his work. 

Whether or not his piece was beautiful wasn’t the point, is what he wants to say. He knows the objective quality is sufficient but what does it say? What does it mean to her eyes that it couldn’t mean to anyone else?

“You… like it?”

“I love it! It’s like a narrative, right?” She points but keeps her hands a respectable distance from the canvas. “These little blobs are being rejected by the flower and falling out into the black. Well, okay, that’s what I think is happening, but I could be totally wrong.”

Hwei only shrugs. The surface level analysis isn’t necessarily incorrect it’s just-

He needs something else.

“Seriously, though, it’s really amazing!”

“Thank you. Do… you think your aunt would find it satisfactory?”

She whirls on him, eyes huge and grin even brighter. “You’re submitting?!”

“Do you think it’s good enough?”

Lux opens her arms, an invitation one he takes. He likes her hugs, they’re always warm and slightly too tight. Hwei squeezes back just as hard.

Wonders how hard he’d have to squeeze to crack her bones. The thought is an ice cold blade straight into his skull and he swallows the tide of nausea that follows.

“Alright, mister,” Lux says as she finally pulls away, “Just because you’re casually making masterpieces doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive this!” She gestures wildly around the room and he blinks. 

“What?”

“Your place is a mess! C’mon, we’re gonna clean up, right now! I don’t care if you had plans-”

-~*~-

Would stepping out into traffic be more tolerable than the knowledge that people would see, and by this point had already seen, his art? Probably, but Hwei hadn’t seen a big enough truck on his way over so that plan was a bust.

Lux is waiting for him when he finally arrives at the gallery, grinning ear to ear, and Hwei is made painfully aware of how underdressed he is.

It’s his own fault, really, Lux had said it would be formal dress, but he didn’t own anything that could even be considered close to formal. Got rid of most of it when he left home. Formal for Hwei usually meant brushing his hair and tossing on a jacket. He tugs at his collar and tries very hard to stand up straight, ignoring how his spine cracks and pops with the effort.

“How are you feeling?” Lux asks as she holds the door for him.

Terrified, queasy, disgusting-

“Tired,” he settles on, nodding his thanks as he scurries through.

Lux snorts. “You’re always tired.”

Well, she’s not wrong.

The walls are pure white, floors a perfectly polished hardwood, and both so spotless that Hwei keeps looking behind him to ensure he hasn’t left any blemishes behind. When he isn’t obsessively inspecting his own trail, he finds it hard to pick just one piece to admire.

How can he possibly when each of them is such a pure representation of the creator’s soul?

He’s happy to have Lux there, if anything for the different perspective. She lingers for longer at pieces he only gives a minute of time, enamoured. They only voice their opinions occasionally for a particularly striking work, but it’s nice to have her by his side as they stroll through the exhibits.

Occasionally, there’s the sudden urge to plunge a blade through the canvases, to topple over the sculptures, but he stifles them, covering his mouth and swallowing the bile that threatens his throat.

They’ve made it about halfway through the exhibition when an elbow suddenly jabs into his side and Lux waves a hand. “Hwei, look, look, look!” She whispers, dragging him across the hall to-

Ah, that’s his.

It’s different under the artificial light of the gallery. Hwei isn’t fond of how it reflects on his shades of purple, but it does bring out the gold- it’s not bad, just different. It feels a little surreal, seeing his work somewhere other than his own apartment. There’s a layer of disconnect that feels… weird in a way he can’t place. Lux doesn’t say anything, simply lets him be in the moment, but it’s impossible to miss her blinding smile just in his periphery.

Shoes click against the hard floor behind them and they both turn to the approaching man. He’s quite a bit taller than Lux, and even she isn’t short by any means, with shoulders so wide that Hwei wonders how he hasn’t knocked over any sculptures yet.

Okay, that was a little mean-

The man rights his posture once he reaches them. “Lux.”

“Garen!”

“Inside voice, please!” The man, Garen, jabs a finger toward her and looks around frantically. “And no running! If Uncle Eldred catches you, he will have a fit-”

“Oh, pish-posh,” Lux says with a wave of her hand, “Uncle Eldred will have a fit if the centrepiece is half an inch to the left.”

Garen stiffens and clears his throat. He finally pays Hwei a glance. “Ah, are you- you must be Mr Lukai. Lux- Luxanna has told me a lot about you.”

The emphasis on his title strikes him as a little odd, but he tries his best to ignore it. “Hwei is fine, thank you. Garen is it?”

“Urh, yes. I’m Luxanna’s brother.”

He takes Garen’s offered hand and tries not to think about how clammy the larger palm feels around his. Hwei is sure his smile looks as awkward as it feels. 

The silence that follows is so unbearable that Hwei is sure plucking each of his fingernails one by one would be less painful.

“Garen,” Lux says, mercifully breaking it, “this is actually Hwei’s piece! What do you think?”

Garen’s mouth opens and closes a few times, reminiscent of a fish in a filthy aquarium. Finally, he says, “It’s certainly- abstract.”

“It's actually impressionist,” Lux says, beaming a grin to Hwei, “right?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Ah. It’s… well,” Garen fumbles, rubbing at his chin, “it’s very… urh…”

His jaw clenches as Lux’s grip on his arm tightens like a tourniquet. “It’s very…?” she prompts, her smile bordering on manic.

Even though he’s standing there in his family’s gallery wearing a suit that probably cost more than Hwei’s monthly rent, he can’t help but feel a little bad. All this stuff is very clearly not Garen’s forte, eyes darting about as he finally forces out a,

“It’s um, colourful?”

Lux blinks once, twice, then she turns to Hwei. “Could you excuse us?” she says with one last smile before she drags her brother away.

Once they’re just out of earshot, she bombards him with a tirade, every word shrinking him back further as he attempts to form apologies.

Hwei watches for a moment longer before he sighs and steps back-

And crashes straight into the man behind him.

“Oh, I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s my fault, I thought you’d heard me.”

Hwei scrambles to stand back, ensuring the man is unscathed. He brushes himself off as his eyes crease with a smile. The man has a medical mask over the lower half of his face, not an uncommon sight with flu season at its peak. His right arm is kept under his jacket, his left holding a metal cane. Part of him wonders how long he’d be able to walk without it and Hwei scolds himself again.

“Are you alright?”

“Quite fine, I assure you.”

His voice sinks into his bones like falling into a hot bath at the end of a long day. A voice that’s been so intimately familiar over the past two months of his life.

Hwei realises he’s staring and swallows another apology. “Have we, um, met?”

The man tilts his head. “I don’t believe so. I feel as though I’d remember your face if we had.”

“No, I mean- are you Jhin?”

Recognition flashes behind those eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Hwei.”

“A pleasure. I see you’ve escaped your rut,” the man- Jhin says, gesturing with his cane, “And my, I’m glad that you did.”

“Do you like it?” Hwei cringes. Could he be any more needy?

Jhin takes a few steps past Hwei, never taking his eyes away from the canvas. He does put a little weight onto the cane as he walks, so it seems to not just be an aesthetic choice. He taps it on the ground, four times in all, the sounds reverberating through the hall. “Like is a little simplistic, but I suppose so, yes.”

From the corner of his eye, he spots a blonde head and a frantically waving arm. Hwei glances over and Lux is grinning back, gesturing toward him and shooting him a pair of thumbs up. All he can manage in return is an awkward little wave.

“Though I don’t love it,” Jhin says plainly, “There’s potential here, but something is missing.”

Hwei bristles. “And what would that be?”

“Even I’m unsure,” Jhin says, still not paying him a glance, “Tell me, how did you feel when you made this?”

Hwei shrugs, because he isn’t sure what else to do. He twists his hands into the fabric of his jacket and tilts his head so more of his hair covers his face. “Oh, you know.”

“No. I don’t.” The cane taps against the floor again, once, twice, three times, four times. “Explain your thought process.”

His head is throbbing, pounding. Pressure builds behind his eyes as Hwei wracks his brain for an acceptable answer. Is there anything he could say that wouldn’t be utterly pathetic? I projected my own insecurity onto a person I’ve never met. I thought of the two of us ascending to divinity, reborn in a form that could comprehend us as we are. 

“I felt… Inadequate,” Hwei says, an admission that leaves something dark coiling in his gut, “I’d been trying to create something, anything that wouldn’t disgust me for months. I- I figured if anyone would understand, it would be you.”

He can’t bring himself to look at Jhin, so he just stares at the two little figures. There’s no discernable features, he only sees them as humans since that was his intent when he painted them, just two blobs on a sea of black.

“I see. How fascinating.”

The voice jolts him from his thoughts and when he looks up, Jhin is gazing back.

“I do wish to learn more of how that mind of yours works, Hwei, if you don’t mind.”

Hwei smiles. “I don’t.”

Perhaps he is dreaming, or perhaps only adrift. 

-~*~-

Having a second contact in his phone makes the whole thing feel very official. They aren’t friends, it doesn’t feel right to call their relationship that given they’ve technically just met, but they’re connected. Somehow that feels… intimate.

Hwei still listens to his show, but the dynamic is different. There’s the knowledge that there’s a part of Jhin that’s his, that none of his other listeners will ever see. A selfish part of him that his parents and teachers wish they’d stripped from him, the part of him that wants and yearns.

For companionship, for understanding, for warmth, for viscera-

So Hwei, selfishly, texts Jhin quite a bit, though he vastly prefers when they get to call. Jhin tells him more about his compositions, his ever fitful muse, what sort of tomfoolery Yuumi has gotten up to. Hwei in turn offers what he thinks could be interesting; the progress of his own work, his schooling, any sort of gossip from Lux he thinks Jhin might find amusing.

It is not lost on him that neither of them broach the topic of family.

On New Year’s Eve, Jhin has no show planned for later so Hwei takes the initiative to call him first.

“How is my little starling this evening?” Jhin says through the receiver.

It’s probably a blessing that they haven’t met in person again, since it gives Hwei some time to desensitise to all the pet names he’s been showered in. “How did you know I’d be at home?”

“Hwei, don’t make me laugh. You don’t go out.”

He’s right, and it should probably be concerning how well Jhin knows him already. Hwei sighs. “What about you? Don’t you have any plans?”

“My plans are to be in bed by eleven.”

Hwei laughs. “Those ambitions are certainly admirable.”

There’s a little shuffle as Jhin presumably settles onto his sofa. Or maybe it’s an armchair? Hwei can just picture Jhin having a cosy little nook by a grand fireplace. 

“What about tomorrow?” he asks. Hwei frowns.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Have you any plans?”

Hwei pretends to think, so as not to seem too desperate. “No, nothing really.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to join me for a walk. Nothing too strenuous, I assure you.”

“You- Yeah. That… That sounds nice.”

“Do try to sound a little more enthused.”

“I’d like to!” Hwei quickly clarifies, “I just wasn’t really expecting it.”

Jhin chuckles. “I have to get you out of your cave somehow, darling.”

Hwei rolls his eyes at the teasing, suppressing the heat in his cheeks at that blasted endearment. “I would love to go for a walk with you.”

“Excellent. I’ll send you the time and place. See you tomorrow, my dear.”

After they hang up, Hwei smothers his face into his pillow and kicks his feet like he’s twelve again. It’s not a date, he reminds himself, just a walk with his not quite friend.

Just a walk-

-~*~-

Hwei’s only been waiting in the park for a minute before uncertainty rears its ugly head. Is he overdressed? Underdressed? It’s just a walk, after all, it’s not anything more serious. Just a walk!

A stroll, a saunter, a-

Hwei has to find the nearest bench to sit down before the blood rushing to his head makes him keel over.

He takes a long steady breath. It’s fine. Is his hair okay? He’d brushed it and pinned it back this morning but does it look like he’s trying too hard? Maybe he should take the pin out- No, then it would look too messy, like he hadn’t even bothered. What about his face? He’d put too much makeup on trying to hide his dark eyes and sallow skin. He probably looks like a clown. What if-

“You look rather out of sorts, poor thing.”

Hwei jumps to his feet with far too much haste and sways for a moment. Jhin reaches out but Hwei, foolishly, waves him off, staggering until he can steady himself on the back of the bench.

“I’m okay! I just- I’m a little under the weather.”

Jhin frowns. “If you felt poorly, we could have rescheduled.”

“No!” He blurts out, then just as quickly reigns himself back, “I’ll be fine, really! The fresh air will do me some good.”

A sceptical brow is raised. “If you insist, but do let me know if you need to rest.”

Jhin isn’t dressed overly formal by any means, but he’s effortlessly stylish in a way Hwei can’t help but envy. He also isn’t wearing a face mask today, Hwei realises, and tries not to focus too much on that. Though given how perfect it is, that’s definitely a tall order. 

But it isn’t perfect, not really. Jhin has laugh lines, he has a few odd grey hairs, crows feet. Yet another chip in the armour, yet another weight dragging him back to earth with the rest of humanity.

It would all rot the same as Hwei.

They set off not long after. The park is quiet, they only encounter a few odd people walking their dogs or joggers. Otherwise, they’d be undisturbed if not for the cool breeze and chirping birds.

They talk about all manner of things, art and music and literature. Their conversation flows as naturally as ever, from one subject to the next like a steady forest stream. The pretence of shyness is quickly abandoned, Hwei no longer reigning himself back to normalcy as they chatter away.

On occasion, though, he catches Jhin whispering to himself, counting his steps. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Hwei makes a point to only broach conversation in the breaks between, otherwise he’s met by a momentary look of confusion. Jhin is quick to push it away, but it bothers him all the same, as does how Jhin is leaning heavier on his cane than he had last time. He needs to stop every so often, though does so under the guise of gesturing to something or to check on Hwei’s ‘illness,’ but Hwei can see how his expression shifts, how he clenches his jaw.

“Can we sit for a while?” Hwei asks as they approach another bench, “I’m a little tired,” he lies.

His suspicions are confirmed when Jhin accepts without even a playful jab.

As they rest, Jhin tilts his head back just so and furrows his brows, breaths coming in quiet little pants. When he catches Hwei staring, he sits up properly and smiles, all semblance of vulnerability discarded like a costume.

“Ah, I wasn’t expecting it to be quite so cold,” he says casually. Hwei doesn’t believe him, but nods anyway.

“Not to worry. We could get a coffee or something instead if you prefer?”

“No, this is nice.” Jhin shifts his weight a little, taps with his cane, one, two, three, four. Hwei wants to ask about that, but decides now is not the time.

He’s not sure when there will be a good time.

“Does that help you focus?”

Jhin blinks, takes a moment to compose himself, then clears his throat and holds the handle in both hands. “In a sense, yes.”

“That’s good. That- you have a way of calming yourself, I mean.”

Jhin is still staring at him, jaw set. Something flashes across his eyes and he finally relieves Hwei from his intense gaze. “Yes, I suppose.”

“So,” Hwei says, desperate for a reprieve, “how do you know the Crownguards?”

“Hm? Ah, I unfortunately know Eldred through prior business. Thoroughly insufferable man, but it pays to have connections.” Jhin’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “And yourself?”

“I’m friends with Lux- Luxanna, sorry. She recommended I submit a piece.”

Jhin hums. “Then I have young Miss Crownguard to thank for your company.”

That leaves his breath stuttering and his lips slightly agape. Hwei takes a moment to still his pounding heart. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Jhin tilts his head. “Then let us enjoy the peace.”

He does, and there they stay in their corner of the world. Just for a little longer.

-~*~-

It’s Jhin’s birthday at the start of February. Now Jhin hadn’t exactly told him that, Hwei just remembers him mentioning it during one of his shows and had made note just in case.

Because that was a normal thing to do.

Though it does leave him with a conundrum; what on earth could he get Jhin as a present?

“Well, have you asked him?” Lux says as they stroll down the street, window shopping for ideas. She nestles her chin further into her jacket, breaths rising in little clouds.

Hwei turns to her. “I can’t just ask him. I’ll look like I’m trying too hard.”

“Urgh, fine. Does he have anything on his wish list? Mentioned any retro vintage album he’s been looking for or…?”

“No, he wants for nothing.”

“Great! So get him something he needs!”

“He already has everything he could ever need and the money to get the few things he doesn’t.”

Lux tugs off a glove with her teeth to send a quick text to someone before she replies. “Okay… so we need something that only you could give him…”

Oh, don’t-

She snaps her fingers. “You should paint him something!”

Hwei looks at her like a deer in headlights. “No, absolutely not.”

“Why not? I’m sure he’d love it! He loved your piece at the exhibition, right?”

“Well, no. He said he liked it.”

Lux waves a hand. “Same difference.”

No, Hwei thinks, there is a very real distinct difference.

“What would I even paint?”

“Well, why not just paint how he makes you feel?”

Lux probably expects sweetness and rainbows and a dozen other cheesy things from romcoms. As if his feelings about Jhin would ever be so straightforward.

The idea is nice, but there’s that constant coil of doubt. It’s all well and good pouring his heart onto the page, but what if Jhin hates it?

Or, worse, if he doesn’t love it?

-~*~-

When Hwei looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, he finds he doesn’t really recognise himself. He knows the person he sees is him in a physical sense, but it still doesn’t feel like his body.

His body is… practical. It carries him dutifully to wherever he needs to go and only breaks down when he doesn’t sleep for three days or tries to subsist purely on caffeine. He’s never really considered himself ugly, or beautiful for that matter. He’s always just existed, in a body that doesn’t quite feel like his.

He showers, the water too far hot, dead skin flaking away when he scrubs. It leaves him tender and raw, blotchy and red all over. His hair is getting too long, maybe he should cut it himself again, the option becoming more and more attractive the longer he grumbles around his knots.

Then he looks down and is struck by the most obvious reminder that he isn’t a man. Not really.

It’s never really bothered him that much before. They’re just part of his body, same as the rest of it. He trails a hand downward, cups his breast and wonders if he should be disgusted.

He is a man, in theory and mostly in practice. Lux knows him as a man, but did Garen see a man too? Or did that confuse him as much as the art on the walls? What of the average person on the street? Not that their opinions held much weight against his friend’s.

But what of Jhin?

“Shame is the crutch of creation,” Jhin had said once during their late night phone calls, “if you waste your time worrying about what someone else might think, you’ll never make anything.”

Couldn’t his own body be an act of creation? Melding it into a shape that suited his needs? Couldn’t it be made into something beautiful?

What did beauty matter if the underbelly was rotten?

His jumper is only an afterthought as he emerges from the bathroom, hands aching, skin prickling. The radio crackles as Jhin’s voice surrounds him, his head pounding.

He claws at his chest, wishing his fingers could pry the skin from muscle, muscle from bones, spill his blood and guts onto his canvas. Desecrate the body that the divine had blessed him with, because how could a holy being possibly understand a wretched creature like him?

Maybe he could free his soul and find it a new vessel, one that was more whole, more appealing.

Or maybe, he thinks as he takes up his brush, he could paint one.

-~*~-

“It’s… different,” Lux says slowly, fingers tapping at her chin. She’s not had the chance to take off her coat, her nose and cheeks still slightly red from the teeth of winter.

Hwei picks at a loose thread on his jumper, watching her through his hair. “Different in a good way?”

“I’m… I’m not sure.”

Even he isn’t sure how he feels about it. The canvas is black, a humanoid shape taking centre stage. It claws its back open, bloody wings erupting from the wounds as it weeps golden tears.

An act of desecration to achieve freedom from the self.

Maybe a bit on the nose, but-

Lux looks at his canvas, then back to him. “Are you alright?”

Hwei falters. He doesn’t like her expression. “What do you mean?”

Lux’s frown only deepens and she takes a step back, away from the canvas, away from him. “I’m really sorry, I don’t understand what would drive you to make this.”

Hwei lets out a deep, long sigh. “There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?”

“No, no!” Lux says, “Of course not!”

She’s lying. Hwei sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. He looks at his piece again. “What do you see?” he asks softly, hoping his voice is steady.

Lux looks at his canvas again, brows furrowing. She rubs at her chin and stares at it, even though her lips quiver and her shoulder sag. They’re both quiet for a long moment before she finally turns to him.

“I see someone hurting,” she says.

“Do you think I’m hurting?”

“Yes, and I want to understand how to help.”

“Understand?” His voice doesn’t sound like his own. Would it be easier to laugh or cry? They both bubble in his chest and threaten to breach his defences as Hwei swipes his dirty sleeves over his face. “I’ve laid it all before you, I don’t get what else there is to understand.”

“Explain it to me,” she says, though the effect is dampened by a lack of her usual enthusiasm, “is painting creepy stuff like this an outlet?”

Hwei blinks. “Creepy?” he repeats, the word bitter on his tongue.

Lux is still staring at him, so sickeningly perfect and pretty and free from blemishes. It must be nice, he thinks, to have a body already in the right shape instead of having to carve it yourself.

“Do I unsettle you, Lux?” he asks slowly.

Lux stiffens. “When you ask questions like that, yeah.”

Hwei laughs, but the sound is strained. “You know, art is most effective when it can invoke an emotional response.”

He doesn’t miss how her eyes dart to the front door.

“You’re terrified,” he says simply.

“Of course I am when you act like this and paint freaky stuff like that! Don’t try to scare me, it’s not funny!”

It’s like a thread has snapped. Hwei closes the space between them and lunges for her, grabs her arms and digs his fingers in until he feels bone.

“Is that what you truly think of me?” he breathes.

“Hwei, let go-”

“Did you always think of me as a freak? Or are only now being enlightened?”

“Get off me!”

“I don’t understand!”

“I said get off me!”

Lux shoves his against chest, hard. So hard that he lands on the ground in a graceless heap. She scrambles up backward toward the door, heaving desperately.

Hwei reaches out. “Lux. I’m so sorry, I-”

“I think you need to- to calm down,” Lux says, sniffling. She’s shaking and Hwei feels sick. “I-I’ll call you later, okay?”

She doesn’t wait for a reply, slipping her shoes back on and slamming the door hard enough to shake the walls. The sound rings in his ears, pounds in his skull as he gradually finds himself on his feet again. 

Hwei stares at the door, his head filled with cotton wool and lead. He rubs his face, the dry paint on his sleeves scratching against his skin. He sways, vertigo assaulting his senses. He wants to vomit, claw his eyes out, peel off his skin.

What is wrong with him? What isn’t?

Then he catches a glimpse of his easel. Hwei tosses it over with a heavy crash, no doubt further infuriating his downstairs neighbours. He gasps and wheezes as he stares at it. Maybe he should burn it? In this enclosed space it was extremely dangerous, but maybe then he’d burn too.

He’d deserve it, to burn alive-

Hwei stumbles back until he trips and lands on his mattress. He can’t breathe. He curls over on himself and clutches his chest, his mouth, drool escapes his lips as he pants and gasps. Tears scorch his eyes and scald his cheeks. His chest burns, his throat threatens to close in on itself.

His hand moves of its own accord, straining for his desk and closing his shaking fingers around his phone. He calls before he can even realise what he’s doing and crushes the phone against his ear.

It rings, and rings, and rings-

Then Hwei throws it away. It clatters across the floor, disappearing to some unknown corner. He curls in on himself even further.

His phone starts ringing. He crams his hands over his ears until it stops.

There he stays, until he goes numb.

-~*~-

A rhythmic tapping at his door jolts Hwei awake. He wasn’t even aware he’d drifted off, but he can’t bring himself to extract himself from the cocoon of blanket he’s found himself in.

He waits, for what he isn’t sure.

After a pause, there’s another series of knocks on his door, then,

“Hwei? I know you’re in there.”

Jhin’s voice should have been a comfort, but right now? In the state he’s in? Hwei hugs his legs impossibly closer, his other hand pressing over the ear that isn’t crammed against the pillow.

Even so, he still hears him, “I’m coming in. Even if you’re indecent.”

The door groans as it swings open, clicking shut shortly after. Jhin’s shoes and cane click against the floor with every step until they come to a stop beside his mattress.

“Hwei. Look at me.”

That voice which led him through many sleepless nights now forces him out from his duvet barrier, just enough to poke his head out and peer upward. Jhin’s stare is intense, cold and hard, but perhaps it’s the hopeful idealist within that sees something else.

Hwei sniffs and wipes his face. “Why-”

“You rang me,” Jhin says, “I was in the middle of something but by the time I could reply you wouldn’t answer any of my calls or texts.”

Hwei blinks up at him, then cold shame surges in him again. “I’m sorry.”

Jhin only hums, tapping his usual one, two, three, four with his cane before he places it against the wall. Somehow, the rhythm seems to steady Hwei’s own thundering heart as well.

Jhin crouches in front of him. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Do you think I’m dense?”

The speed at which Hwei sits up leaves him swaying. “No! Of course not.”

Jhin huffs through his nose. “Then don’t lie to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He can’t show Jhin. Can’t stand the thought of someone else pulling back his layers and being disgusted at what they see beneath. Can’t he just be low maintenance? Make everyone else’s lives easier? They already have their own problems, they don’t need his on top of everything-

Hwei glances up again.

“I… I made something awful.”

Jhin appears near serene at the admission. “Show me.”

That putrid bile in his empty stomach lurches again. “I can’t-”

A hand seizes his jaw hard as iron, the eyes that gaze down upon him just as cold. Jhin could squash him under his shoe like an insect if he really wanted to, but his grip is only barely on the side of painful.

He leans closer. “Show me.”

Hwei nods as far as he can and, once he’s released, he wobbles up to his feet. Wading through tar would have been easier than his trudging steps to the overturned easel. It takes some fumbling, but he sits it upright again, stalling for the canvas as it’s finally propped back into place.

His shoulders sag inward as Jhin’s shoes click on the floor behind him. Heat radiates from him, the sun in Hwei’s dark, endless expanse.

Of all the sounds he expected, a chuckle was certainly not one of them.

When Hwei works up the nerve to look, Jhin is standing with his arms stretched outward. “Yes,” he sighs, “this is the sort of thing I craved from you. A truer glimpse into your soul, not the sweet nothings you hide behind.”

There’s something about his voice, the way his words flow, it feels-

Wrong.

Hwei bristles. “What are you talking about?”

Then Jhin turns to him again, his eyes brimming with- something. His grin is just a tad too wide, the hand that finds a perch on Hwei’s shoulder holding just a little too tight. “You stifle your potential to make yourself palatable. I’ve been there, grovelling in mediocrity just to feign pleasantry.”

The fingers on his shoulder trail upward, digging into his collarbone hard enough to make him flinch. Hwei wriggles free. “Is mediocrity really so bad?”

A scowl creases his face. “Why would you want to subject yourself to a lifetime of never being good enough, when you’re capable of so much more? What are you afraid of?”

It’s so hard to maintain eye contact, especially when they seem to pierce straight past every wall of defence. To the shadows he tries so hard to huddle away, to keep all packed up tight and safe. The very concept that someone could not only see it, but look upon it and not cower is-

Exhilarating.

“I’m… afraid of the part of myself that stays in the dark.”

Jhin only shrugs. “It’s there, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. Why not nurture it into something more?”

Hwei isn’t really sure what to say. The proposition seems so self-centred and conceited, so unlike him. No, he won’t- can’t feed the part of himself that dreams of tearing his own skin, of shattering Lux’s pretty bones, of slicing apart Jhin’s handsome face.

He would never- could never-

“What do you desire?”

The question is expected, somewhat, but it causes Hwei to stumble all the same. He looks out of his window, but he can’t see the stars tonight. It’s started to rain, fat drops running down the panes. For a split second, they seem red until he blinks. Hwei takes a shaky breath and wraps his arms around himself, a puny, self-pitying mockery of a hug. Maybe if he digs his nails in hard enough he could tear the ligaments free-

“Things I can’t act upon,” he finally says.

“And if I allowed you to act upon them here, and told you that it wouldn’t leave this room, would you still deny yourself?”

Hwei takes a step back. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jhin follows. “Oh, I hope you do.”

Hwei hits the wall and his breath stutters. Jhin slips a hand under his chin and tilts him upward, their lips a breath away.

“Pain is such an intimate thing, isn’t it?”

I want your blood to soak into my floor so it will never scrub out. I want to shatter your bones so you can never leave me. I want to eat your heart so it will always be mine.

Hwei lunges for his throat and shoves them backwards, collapsing into a heap on the ground. There’s a dull thunk as Jhin’s head hits the floor, but Hwei doesn’t have it in him to care. Hwei’s fractured, chipped nails dig into Jhin’s throat and a hand comes up to take his wrist. Jhin doesn’t try to move them, or even resist, just simply holds.

“I- ah, I promise this will be much more entertaining if I’m conscious, my dear.”

“Maybe I don’t want you conscious.” Hwei tightens his hold and revels in the wheeze it dredges up from Jhin’s lungs. “Or breathing.”

Jhin is still smiling, even as he gasps uselessly. Hwei hates it, loves it. “You wouldn’t- ah, kill me like this, would you? It’s far too- simple.”

“Oh, but it’s so very intimate, don’t you think?”

If he squeezes a little tighter, maybe that would be it. Then he really could do whatever he wanted.

Even so, his grip eases and as Jhin heaves the air back into his lungs he trails his hands downward, nails scraping along the firm muscle beneath. He feels the minute quivers below his fingers, the heat of his skin, wonders how it would feel to peel it all back and marvel at the flesh.

Eyes follow his every move and Hwei wonders how easy it would be to gouge them with his fingers.

How does his blood taste-

Hwei doesn’t stop to reconsider, to doubt. He sinks his teeth into the junction between shoulder and throat. He breaks the skin, sighs at the copper on his tongue. Jhin hisses above him, a hand sliding into Hwei’s hair and tightening enough to draw tears.

It takes a particularly hard yank to force Hwei off, red staining his lips. He blinks a few times, dazed. Then realisation, as stark as a bucket of ice water.

“I’m so-”

But Jhin cuts him off with another harsh pull, forcing his back to arch so beautifully. He whines, a hand instinctively reaching to close around Jhin’s.

“I’m sick of you apologising for breathing,” he says, his tone neutral in a way that makes Hwei shudder.

“Sorry.”

“Now you’re just being facetious.”

He wheezes out a laugh. “You’d be prettier if you stopped breathing.”

Jhin only hums, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Keep going.”

Their position tips, Hwei ends up in Jhin’s lap, one hand on Jhin’s shoulder to keep him steady. Hwei ghosts his thumb over his previous mark, smearing the blood and admiring how Jhin shivers at the sensation. His other hand sneaks up to the back of Jhin’s neck and pulls him down.

The initial kiss is soft, like school sweethearts uncertain and petrified. Hwei isn’t sure who breaks the calm first, but then it’s all teeth and sharp bites and blood- He’s not even sure who’s blood he can taste-

He dearly hopes it’s a mix of both.

Jhin doesn’t pull away so much as he hauls Hwei back once he finally needs to breathe and leaves him to gasp like a fish above water.

Once he recovers though, Hwei tugs at the hem of Jhin’s shirt. “Take this off.”

Jhin tuts through his teeth, but compiles all the same, though not without making it an agonising trial of patience. Each button might as well be a mountain to best or beast to slay.

When the fabric finally falls to the floor, Hwei momentarily forgets how vital it is to breathe.

“Have I ever told you how charming you are when at a loss for words?”

Hwei shoots him a scowl and considers slapping him, but the contact would only be temporary, it wouldn’t be enough.

Logically, Hwei knows Jhin is not God, but that doesn’t make it any less sacrilege to look upon him like this, perfect in a way that leaves Hwei so desperate to claw and bite and scratch. He wants to tear Jhin’s ribcage open, devour what is his and his alone to always keep Jhin with him.

The only blemishes that mar his skin, save for Hwei’s previous efforts, are two scars beneath his pecs. Part of him wants to reopen them, drink in the blood that spills, but another lucid part screams-

He’s like me, he’s like me, he’s-

Then Jhin’s larger hands slide under his sweater and peel back his shield. Hwei freezes and squeezes his eyes shut, anticipation clawing up his throat like bile. There’s a sigh and Hwei feels the gaping maw of the abyss open beneath him.

“Let me in,” Jhin says, as if uttering a secret.

And the rest of the universe might as well not exist.

Hwei lets out a long, quivering breath, chest impossibly tight as he lets Jhin peel back his defences like the petals of a flower. He expects to miss the safety, but instead only the warmth. Warmth which is quickly replaced by Jhin’s hands.

Hwei so desperately craves for them to pry deeper, to carve out a place inside him. Perhaps he could offer his own heart, but what good would that wretched broken thing be to anyone?

He catches Jhin’s wrist and draws it upward, his fingers coming to rest at his neck, thumb brushing his lips.

“Destroy me,” he whispers, “and build me anew.”

For the briefest of moments, it is Jhin’s turn to lose his breath. Then he leans closer, and murmurs as a prayer, “Nothing I could create would ever compare to you as you are.”

-~*~-

When Hwei wakes, everything aches.

He groans and tries to curl inward only to bump into a warm weight at his side. It takes some convincing for his eyes to finally peel open and the memories of the previous night come flooding back.

Jhin looks so different when he’s asleep, his brow at ease and his lips slightly parted. He’s snoring, though only softly, hair rumpled and sticking out in odd directions. Hwei wants to reach out and brush it back down, but touching him might just break the tranquillity of the moment.

Though that’s when he realises they’re both still very naked.

With as much grace as he can muster, Hwei shimmies from under the duvet and down to the floor, fumbling about for his sweater and underwear. It’s almost suffocating to have them back on again, the fabric rubs against his healing bruises and cuts, but they’re stabilising, they tether him back to earth.

Still, it itches. This one never usually does, he’d hate to get rid of it. Lux had got it for him and he’d kept it till it was nearly threadbare. He twists his hands into the fabric and holds them there, staring into nothing.

He wonders where his phone is, if Lux would even want to hear from him after the night prior. She had said she would call him, hadn’t she?

A ruffle of fabric behind him returns him to the waking world and he glances back to see Jhin sitting up, blinking the remnants of sleep away and rubbing his face. It’s a spare moment of graceless fumbling that Hwei wishes he could bottle and capture on a canvas.

It’s gone just as swiftly as Jhin pushes his hair back from his face and raises his gaze.

“We really must get you a proper bed,” he grunts.

Hwei only shrugs. “I don’t mind it.”

Jhin pouts, honestly pouts. “Well, I mind very much, thank you.”

It makes Hwei chuckle. “Sorry it doesn’t meet your standards.”

“It’s a little novel for one night, but I understand fully why your posture is in the state it is.”

It takes a smidge more effort than Jhin would likely admit, but he does manage to rise to his feet with all the grace he desires. Hwei goes to grab his cane but Jhin waves him off.

“I can manage without,” he says, then adds a slightly softer, “though your concern is not unwelcome.”

Hwei huffs. “It’s the least I can do.”

It’s only then Hwei realises he has nothing to offer for breakfast other than instant coffee. He fully expects Jhin to turn his nose up, but he accepts the offer.

While the kettle boils, Hwei can’t help but stare. It’s not his fault, he reasons, as Jhin is adverse to putting his clothes back on it seems. He’s lounging back in Hwei’s desk chair, admiring his easel in the golden morning light, fingers tapping his usual rhythm on the desk.

One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four-

Hwei wishes he’d had the forethought to close his blinds, not to protect Jhin’s modesty or some similar ridiculous notion, but to hide away what should only be a sight for him.

He shakes his head as the thought crosses his mind and he returns to searching for a clean mug.

The morning drags with little urgency, as if the outside world has ground to a halt just for them. Hwei perches on the end of his mattress. Jhin is probably right about getting himself a proper bed, but he just keeps putting it off…

“Is it despair or catharsis?”

Jhin’s voice rouses him once again and Hwei has to take a moment to understand what the question means. Ah, his canvas.

“Can’t it be both?” he says.

Jhin’s lips pause at the rim of the mug, then he lowers it back down to glance at Hwei. “Do elaborate.”

Hwei peers down into his own mug, feels a twinge of displeasure when he spies a hair floating and picks it out. Gives him a moment to compile his thoughts into a coherent sentence,

“Despair because the life it knew is gone forever, there’s no going back to what it was before. Catharsis because it’s finally free to spread its wings and become what it was always meant to be.”

Jhin hums, his gaze drifting back to the canvas. The moment drags, but it isn’t painful nor even unpleasant. Hwei finds he quite likes watching Jhin think.

Finally, he places his mug onto the desk and says,

“I’d like to see some of your other pieces, if you don’t mind.”

Hwei blinks. “They’re not very impressive.”

“Show me.”

It’s not a demand, but a request. For once, Jhin’s smile is pure and Hwei thinks if he does not tear his gaze away he might cry.

“I have a few…”

[cosmictapestry]

A48? 👉👈

A48. tentacles

hi sorry it's so lonf and that there are feelings .

morphienne prompt list + fills here

Lucienne, sorting through some new additions to the library, opens to the middle of a newly drafted graphic novel—and promptly shuts it, surveys her surroundings—and then opens it again.

It is always gratifying to see how many mortal desires can only be captured in the imagination, satisfaction only met in dreams. Sexual fantasies are no exception. Still, she would rather not be seen reading pornography on the job.

The woman in the story is a skinny little white thing, drawn with an exaggerated delicacy that accentuates the obscenity of the slimy, muscular tendrils that invade her orifices. Her expression is twisted in bliss, stretched as it is around the tendril plundering her mouth. Lucienne thinks the whole ordeal looks grotesque. Then she thinks it's rather interesting.

She stares for longer than is strictly necessary. The image on the page shifts and resizes, revisions that haven't been made yet, blurry in the way of unfinished things. The following pages are more of the same, the girl suspended in the air, pinned to the ground, braced against a wall, helpless and beholden to the tendrils' whims. It is very interesting.

Interesting enough that when Lucienne feels Lord Morpheus sweep into the library, she does not try to hide her discovery. Instead she holds it up higher, knowing that in a second's time he will be looking over her shoulder to see what's so captured her attention. Indeed, his shadow falls over the page not a moment later.

He says nothing while she flips through, pausing on a particular image of the tendrils retreating and leaving one to flick gently at the woman's clitoris while she trembles and spasms. The tenderness of it is striking. Lord Morpheus gives a thoughtful hum. "Bipedal humanoids rarely take interest in body plans different from their own," he says. "It appears humans are becoming lenient. Moreso than most of their predecessors."

"Surely you've seen as much in their dreams," Lucienne murmurs, tracing the length of one tendril with her thumb.

"Of course. But to imagine and to produce art are very different things," Lord Morpheus steps out from behind her, looking now at the rest of the bookshelf where, presumably, they'd find more of this content.

Lucienne glances at him without turning her head. "Have you known many bipedal humanoids with such interests?"

"Not personally, no," he says, and his eyes wander back to the open graphic novel.

That seems a shame, to have the King of Dreams as a lover and not explore all the possibility he contains. Of course, knowing him, there's every chance that he would find something in that request to hurt his pride or otherwise make him uncomfortable. He clears his throat. "And. Are you. Interested. In such things?"

Lucienne bites her lip to stop herself from grinning and possibly scaring him away. His request that he could not voice. That makes perfect sense, too. "I cannot say I've ever indulged in this act, in particular." The nature of soft spaces in the Dreaming, and indeed in her own quarters, means that raw dreamstuff is at the command of the imagination. And there have been many an attractive shape to fall in and out of style in the universe. "But I am interested."

She makes him sweat, just a little. He stands there and shifts and looks at the shelf, then back at the book, and not at her at all. "With me?" he asks, finally, in a tiny voice.

The grin breaks onto her face despite her best efforts. "Yes, with you, silly man," Lucienne puts her hand to his sleeve, stretches up to kiss his reddened cheek, which he grunts and huffs about. "Only your slimy tentacles will do."

His noise wrinkles; she kisses it, too. "They need not be slimy," he protests. "And those are tendrils, not tentacles, besides."

She laughs and waves him off with a gentle swat on his arm and a tap on his arse, too, for good measure, and when he disappears from view it's with an amused glare.

Their night begins normally, with Lord Morpheus stepping into their room and Lucienne already there, meeting him with slow kisses to coax out the worries he's sure to have let settle in.

The room looks much the same as usual, which she wonders about until he pulls back enough to speak. "I was thinking. Perhaps. They might come from under the bed," he says. His gaze flickers across her face nervously. "If you are comfortable with that. We might change the narrative from there."

Lucienne pauses heavily. She cards her hand through the hair at his nape. "Why would I not be comfortable?" She has seen everything there is to see in all of time and space. Though that matters little in the grand scheme of things. Regardless, she does not scare easily.

"I think I will enjoy this immensely," Lord Morpheus says, and the predictability of it threatens Lucienne's careful neutrality with compassionate-but-agonized exhaustion. He is asking, as he often does, if she is sure. "And the thought that I might not be. Suitably attentive. Is frightening."

Lucienne hums, plays with his hair, aches for him. He is never less than exactly as attentive as she wants him to be. But, oh, who knows what might happen, if he feels too good, if he likes it too much. "Have you experience with similar practices?"

"I do predate bilateral symmetry," he says, faux-offended. He tips his head forward to avoid her eyes and arch his neck into her hand. He enjoys her attention for a long moment before he speaks again. "I remember. How it felt. To be so close."

Her thumb traces his jaw, nail digging soft into the clenched hinge until he relaxes. "I am not afraid of you enjoying yourself," she tells him. Her lord's shoulders lift on a sigh, because he thinks that isn't what he's talking about. "I've known you by every name, and I'd know you by every shape." She brushes under his eye to feel the flutter of his lashes, then lifts his face to hers. "And I would welcome you as close as you can get."

He's moaning before he's kissing her, feverish hunger, like the limitations of finite-limbedness are only frustrating now in anticipation of something more. He wastes little time with her clothing, taking slow, significant care only in sliding down her knickers, gripping her under the thighs and lifting her, bracing her on his hips with his bulge grinding into her. He doesn't stop kissing her while he walks them to the bed, and she pants to keep up, tongue lolling lazily with his, the friction on her clit honey-sweet and rough until it is gone altogether.

Lord Morpheus lays her down in the sheets, bare and hazy and wanting, and when he retreats entirely to sit at the foot of the bed he leaves her skin buzzing. Draped in soft black, one knee drawn up to his chest, gaze unwavering, he is completely still, taking in the image of her, an offering. "I'm right here," he tells her. She knows he is. His hands are clasped in full view and she feels him touch her.

She turns her head to see the expansion of her lord's material aspect. The width of an inkpot, warm and firm, slippery-wet, soft as velvet, a slip of darkness wraps her wrist. From there it coils up, its course seemingly predetermined, to slide smokelike between her fingers and coil in the palm of her hand. Lucienne stares at it, matte black muscular pulse of shadow, and she notes that it is shivering.

Lucienne sits up, the tendril thrumming in her hand. Its tapered head lifts, seeking, reaching for warmth. With her other hand she strokes along its length, down to where it disappears over the edge of the bed. She looks up when she hears her lord's breath catch. "How sensitive is it?"

He swallows and twitches and pulls his robe closer around himself. "It is. Me," he mumbles. That is the encouragement she needs to lean forward, lips softly parted, and kiss the top of the tendril's head. A shiver runs through him. Gently she draws the tip into her mouth.

Lord Morpheus gasps and rocks and whispers her name. The tendril pulses hot in her mouth and squirms deeper like it has no choice. It is silken-soft, sweet-tasting, muscular and firm on her tongue. It is not thick enough to fill her mouth but it makes a valiant effort, folding on itself, trying to stuff its way in. She pushes forward, makes herself gag on it. He sobs out and pulls back. "Lucienne," he gasps.

Lucienne waits, the tip of the tendril resting on her tongue, and she watches him. He is sweating already, and he pulls his robe away, leaving him in soft shirt and trousers that have begun to stick. He pushes one hand back through his hair while he catches his breath. "Can I—more?"

Her heart soaring, her core aching, she takes him back into her mouth. His head tips back, throat bobbing on a broken groan. Lucienne is too busy watching a bead of sweat course down his neck to notice a second tendril appear until she feels it slip, thick and supple, under her breast. It slicks her skin, touches the other breast, tweaks the nipple, wraps it and pulls.

Lucienne arches her chest into the touch, forces the tendril in her mouth deeper. Wet heat grips her left ankle. She suckles on the length in her mouth—it's getting thicker, swelling—and it calms her while a matching shadow takes her right ankle. Her legs are drawn apart, slowly, and she watches her lord's face, watches the way his nostrils flare when she is spread for him.

Her wrists are grabbed next. Sweetly she is guided back in the sheets, laid out and spread open, squeezed in meaty rhythmic pulses, slick pulses and caresses on her breasts and in her mouth and all across her prickling skin. She groans with her mouth stuffed full and shakes when she feels a push at her core.

The tendrils feel so strong, unshakeable, and the one that teases her folds is no exception. Smearing slickness, heat and pressure, maddening soft texture so tender and teasing, playing, thrusting between her lips, flicking her clit. It's thinner than the ones that tie her down, and as it slips inside her, it feels so nerve-shatteringly smooth and good that her eyes roll.

She's choking, drooling, and she feels—a second tendril, twining with the one inside her, entering her, dragging, throbbing, until she is full, strung through on either end, stretched all around him. He is whispering, now, asking her—"can I lift you? Please, can I—" and she can do nothing but moan and scream yes through their dreamscape.

More tendrils, thicker ones, embracing her waist and upper arms and thighs, lifting her up off the bed, sitting her up in the air. More tendrils stroking her all over, a thin one playing with her clit, another sliding in the cleft of her arse, another between her breasts, leaving her skin shining. Her lord watches. Dream-gravity forces her down on the entwined tendrils and she clenches and comes on them until she cannot tell whose pulse she is feeling.

Still reeling, she is maneuvered above the bed, stretched out, wrists lifted above her head. All she can hear are her own stricken sounds and wet slipping and his ragged, desperate breath. A new, thin tendril plucks at her arsehole, rubs at it, worms its way inside. Her legs spread and twitching, she cannot even struggle to get more contact.

He pulls an orgasm from her like that, with sharp insistent thrusts, until she squeezes hard enough to almost force him out. Then she is horizontal, the thick tendrils binding her arms to her sides, her arse spread, and then she is upside-down, one leg dangling helplessly, and then, eventually, at some point, she is back on the bed.

Lucienne gasps and heaves and the tendril in her mouth slips from her. She feels the graze of soft fabric, not so different from living shadow, as her lord climbs atop her and kisses her shocked-open mouth. He pants and quivers and ruts against her inner thigh. "Please," he gasps, shoving his trousers down, heedless of the copious mess inside, smeared as it is over his cock and thighs. "Please, Lucienne, can I—"

He's wetter than his tendrils are, nudging at her clit, mouthing at her jaw. She's possibly never seen him so desperate. She is exhausted. With the last of her strength she reaches down with a newly freed hand and touches him. His hips jump and stutter and he sobs into her neck when she guides him in alongside the tendrils already inside her.

The stretch is immense. It makes her cry. Overwhelmed, stricken, shocked, she arches her back, takes him, barely, speared impossibly. She comes when he bottoms out. He does, too, when she spasms and grinds him into his own tendrils, squeezes him in soaking heat.

The tendrils do not withdraw. They lie together and pant and shiver and are still. The tendrils disappear entirely, and Lucienne is left loose and open, fluttering around him. "Thank you," Lucienne whispers. She takes his face, pulls him up to kiss away his tears and smooth his fear. "Well done, love, thank you."

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

A Night of Dancing, Cocktails, and Celebration

A/N: An anon asked me if I write for Finn. Well, I did. I don't even know what this is but have fun.

Finn Mikaelson:

Your Dress:

Your Drink:

Your Dream Come True:

"Psst! Caroline..."

Your best friend ignored you, instead opting to direct  her attention into very pointedly inspecting a rather mundane plant that you were 86% sure was entirely fake. You nudged her shoulder.

"Caaaroline..." You sang through a very, wide, very forced smile. The blonde rolled her eyes and turned to you with a huff.

"What?" She demanded. Her eyes flicked around the insanely vast entry hall, searching nervously through the ball's attendees. No room should be this big, you decided. Her eyes finally fell on you and she frowned. "Quit smiling like that. It's creepy."

"Can't help it," You muttered, giving yet another overly polite nod to a couple passing by. "I smell rich people."

"Y/N-" Your best friend closed her eyes and sighed tiredly. "-you have issues."

"Eu contraire, I am perfectly sane," You insisted. "There's just way too much money in this room."

Caroline tipped her head back and you could tell she was exerting physical effort to stifle a groan. "Y/N/N, seriously-"

"No, you seriously!" You hissed. You couldn't seem to help the sliver of panic that worked it's way into your voice as you tugged lightly on her arm. "I'm completely outnumbered!" The blonde raised a brow, mostly unimpressed but at least partly worried. You matched her with wide eyes and a plea in your expression. "If I see one more Rolex, I'm gonna go all Kelsier on place."

Caroline blinked. "I'm sorry - Who?"

"He likes killing rich-people," You explained, waving a hand. "You need to read more fantasy novels."

She gaped, incredulous. "Excuse you! I do read-"

"Good ones." You cut her off with a pointed look and she pressed her lips together but nodded. "Point is," You continued, "I know I said I'd be your anti-hybrid bodyguard, but this place is way too much. If I don't see another minimum wage worker, I'm gonna throw up."

Your best friend's expression softened. "Y/N, I know you get really touchy about this sort of stuff but, honestly, you look as gorgeous as anyone else here - if not more so. You live in Mystic Falls as much as anybody else and you have just the same right to be here as they do," She said. "Besides, I can see Matt right over there. Just look!"

You glanced over your shoulder to where she pointed and caught sight of an unruly tuft of blond hair poking out slightly above the rest of the crowd. You shoulders relaxed a little, but not much.

"I appreciate that, Care - I really do - but I just don't know if I can do this," You mumbled, tugging on the lace sleeves that hugged your arms. The fabric was expensive for you but cheap enough to be itchy.

"You've been to stuff like this before," She pointed out.

"Sure have" You said with a sigh. "And I always go home feeling irritated and exceptionally poor."

The blonde girl pursed her lips and nodded, laying a gentle hand over your arm. You knew she didn't quite know what to say. She was a member of a founding family. She would never quite understand.

"Excuse me," A deep, accented voice spoke up softly from behind you. Startled, you and Caroline jumped and spun around. There stood a tall, dark haired man with sharp, narrow features and kind eyes. "I don't mean to intrude," He said politely, "but I couldn't help overhearing that one of you young ladies might be feeling a little overwhelmed?"

Your cheeks flushed and you offered him a sheepish smile. "Yeah, uh, tha-that would be me."

"I see." He smiled reassuringly. Though what you found remarkable was the fact that he didn't so much as hesitate to wonder why. "You know, if you're feeling in need of a little fresh air, the gardens here are secluded and rather refreshing to take a walk through."

You blinked, surprised at this stranger's generous display of concern. Biting your lip, you nodded, trying your best to put on a somewhat delicate or refined air.

"Oh, uh, wow. Yeah, that sounds pretty frickin' great right about now." You failed spectacularly.

To your surprise, however, the man just chuckled and smiled genuinely. "Well, in that case, I'd be honored to accompany you if you would like," He offered.

You glanced briefly to your best friend. Caroline tensed but, taking a breath, she forced herself to relax and sent you a smile.

"You sure you've got this?" You asked, feeling a little guilty about leaving her to be devoured by the wolves - or just one wolf, really.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," She said, letting go of your arm. "Take as long as you need."

"Thanks, Care." You shot her a greatful smile and she patted you on the back before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

"Shall we?" The man asked, holding out his arm to you like a proper gentleman.

"Why not?" You grinned and took it. "I'm Y/N, by the way."

The dark haired man smiled, it was shy but real nonetheless. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Finn."

Elijah Mikaelson:

Your Dress:

Your Drink:

Your Dream Come True:

"May I have this dance?"

You choked on your drink. Great first impression, you thought. You'd been so far off in your own little world, you hadn't even noticed the guy approaching you. More than likely, you'd looked like an idiot, just staring off into space with a vacant expression - the choking on your drink per was just a bonus point.

Scrambling to regain some sense of presence or dignity (it was apparently too much to ask your brain for both, so you'd settle for one or the other) you wiped your mouth and placed your drink down on a side table - you'd have to come back for it later because whoever was mixing those cocktails was a genius - and smiled at whoever had just asked for your hand.

Without a doubt, the man was stunning, with dark eyes and a jawline you were pretty sure could be used to measure corners, but there was something odd about him also. You felt as though you should know him...

Wait, wasn't he the one who gave that speech just now? Yeah, you were pretty sure that was him. He must have been part of the family hosting this shindig. What was his name...

"I'd be honored," You agreed before your science could be taken as awkward.

"Excellent." The man smiled but something told you it wasn't quite as effortless as he would have you believe. He looked a little stressed.

He offered you his hand and you took it, allowing him to lead you to the ballroom where the two of you took your proper positions as Ed Sheeran's "Give Me Love" began to play. You'd never been a great dancer, but you weren't terrible. Sure, you'd frustrated the ever loving sunshine out of Mayor Lockwood when she attempted to teach you during auditions for Miss. Mystic Falls, but as far as you were concerned, as long as you weren't stepping on any toes, you were winning. Besides, your partner - you really needed to learn his name - was good enough for the both of you and gracious enough to make your stumbling seem purposeful.

"You know, forgive me if I'm being too forward, but I would have thought the hosts of an event this formal would have a date, mister..." You trailed off, raising a brow expectantly.

"Mikaelson," He answered simply.

You snorted. "Well, I knew that. I was fishing for a first name," You said.

This time, your partner went so far as to spare you a chuckle. "My apologies, you may call Elijah."

"Mister Elijah." You nodded. "No date then?"

"No, not this time," He said, shrugging slightly as he guided you through a twirl.

"Okay. Follow-up question: -"

"- Oh, dear." His lips twitched up in a smirk and you had to laugh.

"Yep, what's the why? Too busy or too lazy?" You asked.

Elijah bit his lip and you could tell he was making an effort to keep his composure for the dance. "Am I allowed to say too tired?"

You hummed. "Okay, that's valid. What's got you so run down?"

"Believe it or not, there's a reason my siblings and I don't gather like this very often," He said, sharing a meaningful look.

You hissed. "Oh, honey, you're the mediator, aren't you?" (As someone born and raised in the south, your usage of "honey" was more an expression of pity than a term of endearment. Though, you weren't sure why you'd said it at all. This was a formal setting and you hardly knew the man you were dancing with, yet despite his slightly weary demeanor, his kind eyes and good humor put you at ease.)

"I try to be," He replied with a wry smile. "It's not an easy position."

You huffed a laugh. "Believe me, I know."

Elijah's smile grew a touch warmer at that. "Personal experience?" He asked.

"Oh, yeah." You nodded - probably a little too enthusiastically for the setting. "More than I care to think about."

"Really?" That smile of his was creeping up on a full-on grin. "Do yours ever give you a headache?" He wondered, a slight tease dancing in his tone.

You grimaced, shaking your head. "'Lijah, please." You weren't sure where the nickname came from but you went with it. "A conference call with my siblings requires at least a bottle of ibuprofen."

Elijah lifted you and spun before placing you lightly back on your feet. Pulling you in closer, he ducked his head slightly and you realized he was doing so to hide his laughter.

"That certainly sounds familiar," He said, a little strained. This stoic act he was putting on was killing him. You smirked, determined to help the process along.

"Must be," You mused. "But now you gotta tell me..." You narrowed your eyes at him with exaggerated seriousness. "Which one's the worst?"

"I'm not sure," He said a little too quickly, shrugging.

"Nuh-uh, 'Lijah! Don't go giving me that," You chided. "There's always a problem-child. Which of the little rascals is it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," He claimed, fighting the smirk tugging at his lips. "Truly, I love all my siblings, I would never stoop so low as to degrade any one of them publicly."

"Right," You deadpanned.

"However," Elijah continued, leaning down to whisper in your ear. You tried to ignore how your cheeks warmed at his proximity. "If I were forced to single out which of them has the greatest - shall we say - talent for inducing a headache, I might find myself looking in the direction of my youngest brother, Kol."

"Ah, I see." You nodded sagely. "Which one's he?"

"Second pair down on our left."

"Gottcha," You said, grinning. Elijah pulled away, arranging his expression into one of innocent indifference. "How 'bout I do you a favor then? Ya know, keep an eye on him for you?"

Your partner shook his head with a hint of a sigh. "I can't ask you to do that."

"Well, I'm gonna do it anyway," You announced. "You look like you could use a break."

Elijah hummed. "Well, you're not wrong..."

"Then it's settled." You smiled. "Take it easy tonight, have a little fun."

"I think I'd like that, actually. Just-" He hesitated. "Don't confront him, alright?"

You made a rather undignified noise and rolled your eyes. "Confront him? No, no, no. That's still your job, I'm afraid."

The handsome mostly-stranger laughed, truly laughed as the dance came to a close. You began to pull away but Elijah caught your hand.

"Wait, I-I don't believe I ever learned your name," He said. Looking over you with renewed interest.

"I'm Y/N," You said, dipping your into a slight curtsy. "It was a pleasure meeting your acquaintance." You gave a little flourish of your hand just to hear him laugh one more time. He had a nice laugh, you thought. He ought to do it more often.

"The pleasure's all mine," Elijah returned with a nod. "And thank you."

Niklaus Mikaelson:

Your Dress:

Your Drink:

Your Dream Come True:

"Foul villain, thy mother doth scare the crap outta me," You announced, sweeping your skirts around your legs as you moved to lean against the wall next to the original hybrid himself.

You probably shouldn't have been voluntarily interacting with a guy upon whom history had bestowed a moniker like "The Great Evil" but, you know what they say - viva la vida and all that. Besides, it wasn't like he'd ever done anything particularly vile to you specifically. Sure, he had kind of terrorized a solid ninety percent of your childhood playmates and quite literally murdered Elena. And sure, his acts of aggression were downright brutal, but honestly, they had sort of asked for some if not all of it. You'd been all for giving Klaus exactly what he wanted from the very beginning - it had just seemed like the overall safer and more pleasant option.

Not that your opinion had ever been given a speck of heed though. After all, amongst vampires, doppelgangers, werewolves, witches, and hybrids - what was the opinion of one lousy little human worth? (Not much according to your supernatural childhood friends.) You knew you'd never been anyone's closest friend. Truthfully, your discovery of the supernatural world altogether had been a fluke and everyone knew it. But hey, you'd survived this long and somehow managed to worm your way into just about everyone's best graces, so you figured you were doing alright all things considered.

Nevertheless, it was probably still completely insane that you considered the Klaus Mikaelson a tentative friend in any respect, but you figured it best not to question it.

The hybrid next to you cracked a smile and hummed, but didn't care to take his eyes off the bustling chamber of well-dressed individuals. "That's understandable," He said. "As I remember, she can be quite intimidating."

"That, my friend, is the understatement of the century," You huffed. Taking a sip from your drink, you balked at the taste and erupted into a coughing fit. Klaus glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and raised a brow but you waved him off. He shrugged and raised his hands as if in surrender.

"So, what did my mother do that unsettled the unflappable Miss. Y/F/N?" He asked, returning to his people watching.

You made a vaguely disinterested noise and shrugged one shoulder, jostling the delicate drape of the half-sleeve thing enough to expose your shoulder. The blond man's eyes were drawn to the movement and he tilted his head as if urging you to elaborate, but you didn't. He smirked.

"Oh, come on love. Now I have to know," He pressed. "How did my mother do what even I "The Great Evil" could not, eh?"

"She cornered me by the bathroom and asked if we were banging each other." You took another sip of your drink and gagged. Grimacing down at the concoction, you briefly debated whether or not to dump it into funky lookin' plant next to you.

While you did this, Klaus looked like someone had just pulled the rug out from under his feet. After taking a moment to readjust his balance, he stared at you with wide eyes and a floored expression.

You frowned. "What?"

The hybrid didn't reply. He just blinked once and shook his head minutely as if in sheer disbelief.

"Yeah, okay those weren't her exact words but they're close enough," You said, pushing a stray lock of hair out of your face.

"Well, what the bloody hell did you say?" He demanded. Klaus didn't often laugh, at least not with his voice. His eyes usually did the laughing - it was something about the way they sparkled.

"No."

He blinked. "That's it?"

"Yes?" You tilted your head, snickering. "I guess I asked why she cared but she didn't really answer, so I just told her the truth."

"And that is..." He trailed off gesturing for you to continue.

"That you and I are friends?" You said slowly. Klaus nodded but you thought you caught a flicker of disappointment cross his face. The original hybrid's disappointment usually didn't bode well for anyone. "I mean, I consider you my friend... Nik." He'd told you to call him that once - said it was because you were a good friend so you'd thought it would be alright to say the same of him. Maybe you'd been wrong. "But, i-if that offends you or something then I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean to assume, she just kinda pounced on me and I didn't have time to think." You bit your tongue to keep yourself from rambling on any further.

"No no, love. You did just fine." His lips twitched up in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes this time. He turned back to people watching again and for whatever reason, you heart sank just a little.

"You sure?" You asked, uncharacteristically uncertain. "Was there something else I was supposed to say?"

Klaus shrugged but didn't look at you. "Why would there be?"

"I dunno. I just-" You shook your head, fixing your gaze on your dress's beadwork. Your voice dropped to almost a whisper. "You seem a little annoyed with me."

The big bad wolf (you didn't think he was so bad - not all the time) sighed and swung his eyes back to you. He offered a soft, more genuine smile. "I could never be annoyed with you," He said.

Your face grew warm all of a sudden and you silently wondered if a guest had found this mansion's thermostat.

"Oh good, 'cuz your mom certainly was," You blurted out. You could never seem to retain information when you were nervous - that was probably how you'd won Klaus friendship in the first place. You didn't just avoid lying to him. You told the truth.

He seemed slightly alarmed by that. His eyes narrowed. "Why would that be?"

"I think she thought I was lying to her," You mused, trying to recall your conversation with the original witch in it's entirety. "I mean, she said you don't get close to anyone really and then I think said something to the contrary and I called you Nik. But she told me only your siblings are allowed to do that... So yeah, she probably thinks I lied straight to her face but I have no clue how I'd change her mind." You shrugged and shot him a smirk. "Unless you feel like taking a jaunt upstairs real quick..."

Klaus threw his head back and laughed - a rare act for him. "You know, any other night I'd take you up on that."

"Oops, sorry bud -" You sent him a fake pout. "-one time offer only."

No, he didn't like you that way. He just... didn't.

He huffed an exaggerated sigh. "Shame."

"Yup."

You raised your drink to your lips and took another drink - this time you just about shouted Rebekah's special string of obscenities'. "Ugh! Why do I keep-"

Klaus snorted and shook his head. "I don't know, love, but I don't think that's the right cocktail for you."

"Tell me about it..."

He smirked, then reached over and took the glass from your hand. "I'll get you another one, sit tight."

Kol Mikaelson:

Your Dress:

Your Drink:

Your Dream Come True:

The spoon was your point of interest.

Not a spoon, but the spoon. That specific spoon.

It was a pretty spoon, a very pretty spoon - probably the prettiest spoon you would ever see. You inspected it closely. Intricate vine-like detailing was embossed in the silver and inlaid with gold just to highlight it's extravagantly lavish make. It was quite the obnoxious flaunting of wealth to invest a few thousand dollars into a bloody serving spoon, as if the mansion itself wasn't enough of a statement. But to each their own. You didn't care what some rich family - the Mikaelsons or whatever their name was - did with their money. Let them eat with gold freaking cutlery, it's not like there are actual children out there starving to death. No, these guys had a nice freaking spoons. Good for them.

At any rate, it wasn't their spoon anymore. It was your spoon.

You, not so discretely, shoved the gorgeous serving spoon in the pocket of your dress and turned around. No one the wiser.

And that was it, you decided. You weren't going to take anything else. You had your spoon and that was all you needed.

But then you saw a cup.

Well, it wasn't a cup - not really. It was a champagne flute and it was just... perfect. Crystal form with gold leaf lining the top and base. You liked that flute. It was nice. But you weren't going to take it.

You weren't going to take it, you decided. No, you weren't going to-

Huh.

How did that pretty cup end up in your hand?

Well, now that you had the thing in your hands, you might as well just slip it in your pocket. No one was watching. You would make better use of that little cup. You would love and appreciate it like these rich assholes never could. With that cup you were satisfied. There was nothing more these people had that you could possibly need. At least, nothing worth going to jail for... again.

That little dish, though...

The silver dish matched your intricate gold laced spoon. It was covered in those little breath mints people always leave out at parties, but that could be fixed.

You danced through the crowd of party goers on delicate, well accustomed feet just to see the platter a little bit closer. You weren't going to take it or anything. Arriving at the desert table, you plucked one of those little dinner mints off the tray, popped it into your mouth and turned, accidentally swiping the whole tray from the table as you did. You hadn't meant to of course - you never meant to steal anything. It just sort of... happened.

Now that you had it though, it wasn't as if you could just go sauntering to the table again to put it back. That sort of thing was suspicious. Someone would be bound to notice. You deftly poured all the dinner mints into the other pocket of your dress and looked down at the little tray in your hands. It might fit in your pocket, you thought, biting your lip. You had to try, at least. The dish was just to pretty for you to leave it lying around. Someone might steal it!

Glancing around, you made sure no one was watching before shuffling your dress a little to hide your hands while you squeezed that little dish into-

A hand shot out of nowhere and seized your wrist.

"That doesn't belong to you, darling," A voice like frigid silk murmured in your ear. You froze, blood turning to ice in your veins as that hand - with his all but bone-shattering grip - tugged on your arm, whirling you about to stare directly into a pair of gleaming brown eyes. The boy who had caught you looked around your age. He wore a wide, mischievous smirk and an air of superiority like other people might wear a baseball cap - that is to say very casually despite the stuffy setting.

"What do we have here?" He wondered aloud. That fox-like smirk broadened into a crookedly boyish - but not quite harmless - grin. "A thief, eh? Didn't your mother ever teach you not to take things that don't belong to you?"

You blinked twice.

"Nope."

The boy raised a perfect brow. "No?"

You thought about it. "Well, I mean, she did but the lesson just... never really sank in, you know?"

He didn't seem very impressed. "So you steal dishware? Really?"

"Apparently." You shrugged. "It's just how I roll. Sorry."

"I see," He said with obvious disdain. He leaned in closer. "Well, that sure makes things awkward for you, now doesn't it?"

"Mmmm..." You narrowed your eyes. "No, not really."

"Excuse me?"

"The only real awkward thing going on right now is your hand half-way down my skirt." You deadpanned right before reaching out to catch some passerby on the shoulder. The older gentleman turned to you. Initially annoyed, his expression morphed to confusion and then into something downright mortified as he took in the almost-extremely-compromising position the two of you appeared to be in. You gestured to the boy who'd caught you. "He's the weird one, right?"

The poor elderly chap sputtered.

"Oh, bloody hell..." The boy released you with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You smirked, very proud of your little escape act, and made a brisk retreat for those fancy front doors you unfortunately couldn't fit in your pockets. Checking over your shoulder, you were relived to spot no trailing figures or suspicious eyes. Just as you turned back to the entrance, mere feet from your destination, a steel bar looped around your waist and hauled you though off through a side door which slammed shut as soon as you were through it. You didn't even have time to scream.

Glancing down, you found that the steel bar was, in fact, an arm which happened to be attached to a familiar pale hand. You frowned.

"Crap."

You felt yourself being spun around again and you huffed, facing that dark-haired boy once more.

"So where did we leave off?" He grinned mockingly.

"You were minding your own damn business," You stated primly.

"I was?" He shook his head. "Funny, that doesn't sound like me. "

"Was worth the try," You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I'm sure," The boy hummed. "I'm Kol, by the way. Kol Mikaelson, just so you know who you're stealing from. And you are?"

"Y/N." You answered dryly. "It's not a pleasure."

"It might be, who knows?" He said with a rakish smirk. "Now, let's see what you've got."

You rolled your eyes and let go of a long sigh as Kol reached down and dug through your pockets. He certainly wasn't shy about it either. Cheeky bastard.

"Bloody hell, how deep are these things?" He demanded, a few minutes into his search.

"Fantastically so," You replied. His hand smoothed down your thigh and you felt it through the thin fabric of your skirt as he clinched you roughly. "That is not contraband, Kol."

He grinned down at you. "My mistake."

"If I say keep making it, will you refrain from pressing charges?"

He blinked, clearly caught of guard. You had to admit to a degree of discomfort as something almost predatory flashed though his eyes but it was gone as just as quickly. That far too charming smirk returned as he wet his lips and nodded.

"Fair enough, darling."

Thirty minutes of digging, searching, and quite a bit of groping later and your pockets were, regrettably, empty. ( He never actually did anything though - never really touched you - he was just... teasing really. It was surprising but you appreciated it.)The items removed now lay haphazardly on the couch where Kol had tossed them. He had removed a total of twenty nine stolen artifacts from your person, including but not limited to: three golden rings, that holy serving spoon, the champagne flute, the silver tray, a platinum bracelet, no less than six Rolexes, a very expensive looking diamond necklace, a pair of pearl earrings, a bow tie, four tie bars, and some poor couple's wedding rings. Actually, the whole sexual teasing thing stopped rather quickly as Kol kept pulling out handful after handful of stolen valuables.

"I don't know if I should be impressed or disturbed," The boy remarked, having finally stepped away from you.

"Lets go with impressed!" You snickered. The sheer confusion written all over his face was worth more than all the spoons in his house combined.

"Bloody hell!" He dragged a hand through his gloriously messy hair and turned back to you, shaking his head in disbelief. "My mother is probably the worst in existence and even she taught me better than this. I don't think I've stolen this much in my entire life... and that's saying more than it sounds like!"

You nodded solemnly. "That sounds like a you problem."

Kol pursed his lips, trying rather hard not to laugh. "That's beside the point."

"Oh okay." You nodded... then shook your head. "Yeah, no you've lost me. What's the point of this and can I go home now?"

"You can go home once you tell me what your bloody excuse is!" He was grinning now, grinning and laughing like a real human boy instead of a spoiled brat.

You shrugged haplessly. "I'm a kleptomaniac."

His eyes flicked to the side and back. "A what?"

"Kleptomaniac," You said again. "It means I steal people's crap. Also-" You raised a hand and twirled a set of keys around and around your fingers. "-thanks for the car!"

Stefan Salvatore:

Your Dress:

Your Drink:

Your Dream Come True:

"You're pouting," You said, elbowing your best friend in the ribs.

"I am not pouting," Stefan snapped, arms folded over his chest as he watched his brother dance with his ex-girlfriend.

You clapped him on the back - hard , perching an arm around his shoulders with a long sigh. "You're totally pouting." The dirty blond vampire shook your arm off and you barked a laugh. "I wish I was as good at pining as you are, Stef."

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "Oh really?"

"One-hundred percent."

Then - the bastard - he snatched your drink from your hands and downed it all in one go, before giving it back to you. The audacity of that kid astounded you sometimes.

"Aww, Y/N are you pouting?"

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln@r13mar@rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99@railingsofsorrow@apolloroid@thatweirdoleigh@misswe03@eat-cake@felinegrate@cute-freak27@fayeatheart@archangelslollipop@aonungs-tsahik@sleepneverheardofher@heartbreakgrill@whatsupb18 @enchantedlandcoffee @trikigirl271@dreamingwithrafe@her-violent-delights@witchcraftandgeekness @dreamingwithrafe@acixsracix @susannahmikaelson Comment or DM me if you want to be added to my tag list!

[thevikingwoman]

After dealing the with the Lakeland Light Warden, Meryta is feeling out of sorts, and runs to the first place she thinks of - to the Ruby Seas and Tansui. Neither of them certain of their feelings for eachother, or able to voice them, but still comfort is offered and given.

Beautiful, wonderful art to go along with this

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 2969 | Read on Ao3

Meryta Khatin x Tansui | Early Shadowbringers | romance/comfort Rating: Teen. Spoilers up to MSQ 'Warrior of Darkness', fluff, angst, emotional comfort, feelings are hard, wol having a no-good time in msq

Solace and Breakfast

The first thing Meryta does, once the hum of the aetheryte quiets behind her, is to look for Tansui. It wasn’t a conscious thing, to grab the aether current to Onokoro, but it worked and now she’s here. She has no real reason to, other than a strange wish to Tansui’s face, to see that the people here are alive and well. Tansui is not in sight, however, and she finds she has no desire to find Rasho and ask, or for idle chatter with anyone else.

In the end, she decides for a walk along the beach, the quiet rush of waves against the shore calming her. Maybe she could fish, an excuse as good as any. She keeps walking though, until she sits, the warm light (normal light, fading light) of the sunset casting long shadows from the cliffs. Everything is calm and quiet, and she can almost pretend there’s no extra aether still buzzing beneath her skin.

Tiredness wars with the bright unease within her. She barely slept last night, she couldn’t. She tossed and turned in the room in the Pendants, after the ghost – Ardbert – left. Trying not to think of the horrors she’d seen, of how it felt when the light was flooding into her. Even the return of darkness hadn’t helped her, her mind too busy. Too sad. Too angry. She had no desire to see if the Exarch had any messages for her the next morning, no desire to confront him on all he didn’t – and doesn’t – tell. She’d rushed into the lifestream, a vague notion of testing the Exarch’s reassurances that she could teleport to the Source. Grabbing on to the first beacon that sprang to her mind.

Running away, she supposes.

The sun is setting, casting a rosy glow over the sand. The waves sighs gently against the shore. She tries to calm her mind, and push all thoughts away, focusing on the waves and the wind.

Why is she here?

Tataru and Krile must be out of their minds with worry, and since travelling to the Source is possible, she should have thought to go there, to reassure them. But she didn’t want to go to the Rising Stones, it was Onokoro she thought of. The sea and the sun and sand. And perhaps a cheeky smile and dancing eyes and nights under the stars. She doesn’t have the energy to examine it too closely.

She lies down on the sand, and it’s still hot from the day. She digs her fingers deep into, the grains running across her skin and scales and claws. Beneath the surface where it’s cool, where the light doesn’t reach it. She wants to be buried in it, heavy and cool and deep. She breathes, and digs.

A hand brushes against hers, warm and calloused. She didn’t know she closed her eyes.

“Do you need help with that? I can almost guarantee there’s no buried treasure here – that’s more the style of your friends in Limsa Lominsa as I’ve come to know.”

She lets out a huff of silent laughter, a breath she held too long.

“No, I – I’m not –” She stops digging, and holds his hand in hers. She feels brittle, like she’ll fly apart at any time. “Can you – hold me, please.”

Tansui does, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her up and out of the sand and lifting her to him. She lets herself relax into him. He is not a large man, but he’s still broader and bigger than her, and wraps himself around her, heavy and fast.

“What’s brought this on?” he asks, and rubs his cheek against her horn, familiar and far too intimate and not intimate enough.

She shrugs, as best she can. Still not sure what compelled her here, of all places, her aether stretched thin from travel for no need, and yet so full, bursting at the seams. But his arms around her is the best she’s felt in days, in weeks. She’s entirely unsure what to do about that.  She buries herself deeper in his arms. She breathes in the scent of him, sweat and seawater and tar.

“Relax, relax,” he murmurs, sweeter than she expects. His arms move up her back, kneading the knots he finds there. She breathes and tries to do as he says, to relax into his embrace.

“So, are you on your way to reckless, life-threatening troubles again? Or on your way from them?” He kisses her gently. “I am truly glad to see you again after such a while, Meryta, but I do hope you don’t bring trouble in your wake.”

“No –” not this time, she wants to say, but her thoughts are too scatted to argue, too occupied with her current woes. “It cannot come here. Or – it cannot follow me here, though the danger is… everywhere. To everyone.” She halts and goes on slowly, telling as well as she can of the First, the Sineaters, the Lightwardens. The apparent looming Calamity. Tansui’s arm stays around her, faltering only briefly, his fingers momentarily digging into her shoulder.

“I know this all sounds queer –”

“— even for you.”

She smiles into his chest and gives and halfhearted chuckle. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t burden you, I know you’re not – I’m not good company, I just – so much has happened.”

“This is … quite outside my experience, but it’s alright. If you need to talk, talk. Let it go. I can listen.”

He squeezes her hand tentatively, and keeps her close. It’s comforting and intimate, the waves and the stars their only companions. The customary spark of want between them is absent, and yet he does not leave. He waits patiently, and lets her continue, telling of the scions, souls transported and the relief of seeing them again, mixed with despair of them being stuck. She forces the bitterness out of her voice and goes on.

She breaks when she tells about Tesleen, the kindness repaid by sorrow. Alisaie’s quiet grief, and her inability to prevent it. The villagers of Holminster, all turned to sineaters, bright and empty. She sobs, and buries her head in his chest and barely makes sense, words coming in stuttering hiccups. The Light Warden. The Light she absorbed. She doesn’t know when she last cried like this, but Tansui just holds her, his strong arms around her; hand gently stroking her back.

She wakes when she’s jostled, and realizes Tansui is carrying her, walking along the beach. She must have fallen asleep in his arms.

“I can walk,” she mumbles, embarrassed she fell asleep on him. Her head is swimming with tiredness, and she fights against it, against the comfort of his chest.

“Do you want to?” he asks. “I know you’re capable of incomparable feats – even walking while dead tired – but you don’t have to.”

His voice rumbles against her, his tone the jesting bite she knows, but his care earnest and kind. Does she want to? This makes her eyes water again, as she’s trying to hold herself together. Perhaps she’s been running ragged for days, exhaustion finally catching up with her. So much for the grand savior the Exarch wants her to be.

“Are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if not.”

“Alright.”

Something gives, and she allows herself to soften into him and let him carry her. She’s snug against his chest, held with a care she shouldn’t need.

The lights of the village come into view soon enough, but he makes no motion to put her down. He carries up the stairs as if she weighs nothing, mumbled protest shushed you weigh less than a boat. It almost lulls her asleep again, until he kicks the door open to the small room of his. He gently puts her on his bed, soft pillows surrounding her.

“Sorry, I’m not much good company.” She yawns. “No fun.”

He’s tall and handsome in the lamplight, and there’s the flick of desire she always feels around him, but she’s just so tired.

“Shhhh, Meryta. You can barely stand on your feet; you need the sleep. Even heroes don’t work without it, I surmise.”

Undressed, he helps her out of her shirt, and tucks himself behind her underneath his blanket. His arm work in steady patterns up and down her back, avoiding her tail and the spot above it that makes her squirm. All she can do is accept the comfort offered, her weariness fueled by anger and grief giving way to sleep as he gently holds her.

---

Tansui wakes before her. She’s curled up next to him, her tail across his legs and heat radiating off her. There’s a new scar on her back he didn’t notice last night in the dark. Long and straight, some kind of blade, probably. He hovers a hand above her skin, before he gets up without disturbing her.

Meryta looks tired, and somehow smaller than he recalls, curled up like this on his bed. She looked worse yesterday. She’s a warrior, and he’s seen her fight – Garleans and their war machines, tearing them apart. He knows she’s fought other things, things he can barely comprehend. Right now, she just looks young and worn out.

Feeding branches to his stove, he sets to work, soaked rice and water and dried meat. He chops scallions and considers fetching eggs, but opts against it. She could wake any time. So, he goes on and chops and cooks and lets the smell fill the room.

He’s seen something like this before. Perhaps he’s even experienced it himself so very long ago. When recruits, eager and fresh-faced and ready to start a new life run into their first trouble. Someone who won’t pay, someone who attacks. The Confederacy tries to avoid violence, but they’re pirates and at some point reality sets in, and there’s no turning back from this life. You draw blood, you kill your first man. The recruit comes back shaken and pale. And then he’ll feed them and tell them to get a good nights rest, and he’ll send them back out again until they’re used to it.

He looks at Meryta’s still sleeping form, and the way she shook in his arms last night – she’s no recruit, young as she is. He’s heard enough of her deeds of heroism, and he’s seen her bold and fierce on the battlefield. But something’s unsettled her. He wonders if she has anyone to feed her and tell her it will get better – or at least that she will get used to it. If anyone can get used to what she faces. He’s comforted countless recruits, but he’d also had the luxury of telling them to rest, to slow down and get help. It sounds like people tend to expect her aid instead.

Adding salt to the pot, he stirs the porridge and wonders if it will get better. Well, it’s the illusion that matters. He can’t help her with her fights, and barely her fears, with what little he understood of different worlds and beings of terrible light. He slices a handful of mushrooms finely.

She stirs as he’s frying the mushrooms, stretches and then sits up suddenly, as if she’s surprised. Her eyes dart across the room.

“You’re in my humble dwelling, Meryta.” He grins, and takes the mushrooms off the stove. He sits next to her. “I know you’ve been here before.”

“Oh I – I apologize, I – I do recall. You carried me here. I’m afraid I’ve been taken advantage of your hospitality, falling asleep with nary a word.”

He resists the urge to wrap his arms around her, just as he resisted tumbling her on the bed the moment she woke up.

“Were I supposed to have left you on the beach?”

That gets him a smile, and a frown. “I did not sleep well, after – after I absorbed all that aether, even with the night returned. There was…” She stops and he does not pry. “I’m afraid I was not good company.”

“Did you sleep well here?”

“Verily.” She smiles, beautiful and bright, and he can’t resist that, he leans in and kisses her, and she kisses him back warm and soft until she draws back, frowning. “I’m afraid I can’t linger – the time – I barely understand it but time may pass at different speeds, and –”

“You should at least break your fast. You must have time for that. No matter your power, you still require sustenance.”

“It does smell good, Tansui.”

Kami preserve him, he still likes his name on her tongue and if that isn’t enough, making the whole thing worth it.

She eats hungrily and he’s glad he took the time to cook. Glad his small kitchen can offer succor and she smiles and he remembers suddenly – a stolen sweetcake, shared with his siblings, the little ones asking for more, far too hungry. No one should go hungry. Tansui shakes his head. No need to be sentimental or think of things too far in the past. But there’s a reason no one goes hungry among Confederates.

He sits and eats with her in silence. She looks far less tired than last night, the weariness no longer clinging to her. The sun comes through the window in the kitchen where he’s pulled the curtain aside, highlighting her green and yellow hair to a crown of blazing spring.  Beautiful. He found her beautiful from the moment she and her friends showed up like strays on their doorstep, determined to win their aid – as they did. But she’s more than beautiful sitting here, sunlight in hair. It’s the first time she stays for breakfast, and yet seems like the most natural thing in the world. The wooden grain of the table, the warm food, the beautiful woman, the unbeatable hero. Go forth and come back, he wants to say.

“More?” he asks instead.

“I can’t tarry.” She looks at the pot. “Perhaps a little.”

“I wish I could stay,” she says, when she’s done with the second portion, “but – and I should help with cleanup,” she continues as she puts her dish in the sink, and he waves her off.

“I understand. World saving can’t wait and all.”

She gives a tight smile, and he knows her weariness will creep back before too long.

He follows her outside, where she finds her sandals. Fastened, she reaches for him, her palm cupping his face and her fingertips scratching his beard. Her eyes glow, large and bright purple in the shade of the building. He bends and kisses her, compelled by her nearness.  

“I have to leave,” she says again. “Thank you.” She looks away from him, lowers her eyes to fixate on his shoulders. “For your kindness, Tansui. I didn’t expect – you didn’t have to.”

“You’re welcome anytime,” he says, and kisses her hair. “When you can – if you can.”

He doesn’t fully understand her troubles, but he knows enough to realize the world hangs in some sort of balance, and of course her, and her friends, are part of it. She takes a step back, and engages her anima, the hum of the teleport spell filling the air. He stares at her as she leaves, and the space left behind. The complexities of crossing worlds confound him, but it does not change his hope that she’ll be back again, in his bed and in his kitchen.

“Inviting her back, I see.” Rasho’s voice booms behind him. “Did you even charge the tithe this time?”

“If it’s a problem, you can take it from my private share.”

“That’s not what I mean, Tansui. You cooked her breakfast, didn’t you?”

“And what if I did?”

“We’ve had plenty of new recruits, and yet I’ve not seen you take any to your quarters. Save her. It makes one wonder.”

“Are you keeping tabs on my private life now, captain?”

“As your friend, perhaps I am.” Tansui bristles, but Rasho just steps closer, taking advantage of their familiarity. “She’s not quite like us, Tansui.”

“And is that a problem?”

“Hm.” Rasho drops a hand on his shoulder. “Be careful, old friend. She must go where you can’t follow.”

“We’re just friends enjoying each other’s company, that’s all.” It comes out more defensive than he’d like, and the memory of the way her face softened after she cried herself to sleep in his arms comes to his mind, unbidden. So, he cares for her, and wishes her back hale and well and victorious. That’s not unreasonable.

Rasho lets go of his shoulder and regards him solemnly. Tansui wants to leave, but he’s not backing down. He holds his friends gaze fiercely.

“I see.” The big man shrugs with indifference, and Tansui knows him well enough to know it’s anything but.  “Mayhap you should consider what you are to each other. For your sake and for hers.”

“I – “ He doesn’t know how to respond. He hates it, suddenly and fiercely, that she goes to her friends and danger, and he’s here with only dirty dishes in the sink and her scent in his bed. No matter her closeness, he holds no claim on Meryta, just a hope to see her again, his hands on her skin, his name on her tongue. Smiling and eating at his table. He’s not ready to face what that means, nor talk with Rasho about it.

Rasho nods and walks off. Leaving him to his thoughts roiling in his head. Naught he can do about those thoughts and desires, so he pushes them to the back of his mind. It does not matter - he will wait, and she will be back. There’s still more than a half-bell until he asked the recruits to muster for training at the Coral Banquet, and he should have time to clean up after their breakfast.

[dream-meister-translations]

DREAM MEISTER & THE RECOLLECTED BLACK FAIRY

OBORO - VOICE COLLECTION

━

"I thought of reading something, but it seems I haven't stocked up on any new books. Would you take me to a bookstore?" 

"Are you seeking to borrow my "power"? Unfortunately, I am quite powerless. I won't be of much help."

"...Novels? They're pointless. Simply unraveling fictional events. It doesn't benefit anyone."

"As you can see, my enthusiasm has all dried up. I'd appreciate it if we could keep this conversation short."

"Hm? Do you require my knowledge?"

"If you have any troubles, feel free to share them."

"Let's rely on intellect for this."

"Victory achieved. Is that enough for you?"

"Ugh...Have I been a hindrance?"

"A reward, you say? It's best if you take it with you."

"Wandering aimlessly will only lead to exhaustion. It's essential to move with some degree of efficiency."

"Hmph...Exploration, is it? I understand, but don't expect too much."

"Hm? I sense Kai's presence from this vicinity...Perhaps something related to him has been left behind?"

"What's this oppressive presence...? ...Ah, is this Kai's presence...?"

"Finally, it's over...This was a laborious task. I think I'll take a break for a little while."

"It's been a while since I've been made to work this hard. Please make good use of the results of our exploration."

"Hmm...I can still sense Kai's presence. It might not mean much, but there must be some significance to it."

"New knowledge has been acquired." 

"It seems I've gained a bit more power. Although I still can't compare to the others..."

"Haven't I told you? Don't expect too much from me. I'm sure you wouldn't want to be disappointed, would you?"

"Knowledge is key. The more you retain, the more you acquire. However, gaining power as a Black Fairy isn't that simple."

"Novels are nothing more than endless lies and fantasies...It's because of such things that I..."

"There aren't many ways I can be of help...Nevertheless, you choose to keep me by your side."

"Why do you want to involve me...? You have nothing to gain from it."

"Life is limited, and it must be used meaningfully."

"It seems you have some knowledge, but from my perspective, you still have much to learn. Continue to strive."

"Excessive expectations aren't beneficial...But I want to meet your expectations. Your hopes of me. That is the truth."

-

KAI : Hey, Oboro, there's a dried fruit mentioned in this book, but I'm having trouble with the drying process. Can you help me out?

OBORO : Before relying on others, did you make an effort to research it yourself? I won't lend my wisdom to a slacker like you.

-

MATEO : So, this book is full of...That. And this, um, this one...?

OBORO : This isn't a picture book, Mateo. It is more of a field guide. If you're interested, I might let you borrow it.

-

OBORO : It seems like babysitting, doesn't it? It's good that you're not getting lost this time, but I hope I can count on you for exploration.

MATEO : Understood! Power, skill, knowledge...Mateo, do it all!

-

MATEO : Over here! No, over here! Over here? Oboro, where are you?

OBORO : Mateo, if you don't know the way, it's best to stay quiet and follow closely behind me. I'll lead the way.

-

OBORO : Hah...Huff...Babysitting Mateo has made me feel even more exhausted...But, I'm relieved we made it back safely.

MATEO : Oboro, are you tired? What should I...Should I smile more? Will that help?

-

PLATINUM : Hey, Professor Oboro, do you happen to know how to make rare medicines, which could potentially be sold for a very high price...?

OBORO : Platinum, don't be fooled. My knowledge is at your disposal, but medicine isn't meant for making money.

-

PLATINUM : Let's get moving Professor Oboro. You're a smart one, so you must know that time is money, right?

OBORO : You are rather cash-minded, aren't you? Exploring this vast place is a bit of a burden for me, you see.

-

PLATINUM : Oh...You really don't have much stamina, Professor Oboro. Don't push yourself too hard and collapse, okay?

OBORO : ...It's probably your fault for needlessly making me walk in your search for money...! Hah...Huff...Anyway...I'm going to rest now.

-

HEINKEL : Oboro, what kind of book is that? I find it difficult to believe it would be some lowbrow novel, especially coming from you. 

OBORO : The book I'm reading is a medical textbook. If it bothers you, I can refrain from reading it in your presence...?

-

HEINKEL : Before we begin our exploration - Oboro, if you're not feeling well, don't hesitate to let us know.

OBORO : Hmph, in that case, you better just pray it doesn't happen. 

-

OBORO : Exploration really takes a toll on one's physical and mental strength. More than you'd imagine...

HEINKEL : Even though you got tired, you never gave up on your duties. Thank you, Oboro.

-

OBORO : My lack of stamina aside, Chitose, you're not exactly a powerhouse, are you? Both of us collapsing wouldn't be a laughing matter.

CHITOSE : Hohoho~ Indeed~ Let's make sure not to cause any unnecessary worries. Let's do our best within our own reasonable limits. 

-

OBORO : Hah...Hah...Huff...You are breathing perfectly fine. Chitose, it seems I underestimated you...

CHITOSE : Hohoho~ There was no need to be concerned. I enjoy going for walks. I'm used to this kind of thing.

-

CHITOSE : Oboro, how about we both congratulate each other on our return with a round of tea. We can report our findings later.

OBORO : Hmph. Well...That suggestion isn't awful. It wouldn't hurt to take just a moment of rest.

[artzychic27]

Weird idea but what if we combine the ballad of Marinette dupain-Chang au I made with the favoritism au? Would that be fun or what?!

Is Nathaniel Kurtzberg my favorite character?… I think you know the answer to that

Anyway, I’m just imaging Sara Berry meets Carrie... Let's try that out. Gonna be a little hard since both stories are about prom and end in disaster, but whatever

Just to mess with her little fantasy world, Marc, Nathaniel, Lila, Chloé, and Félix run for King/Queen

Marinette doesn’t expect anything, but then Nathaniel starts catching up with Adrien in the polls

So, she actively threatens and sabotages them in private, but none of them are dropping out

Chloé and Félix rake in a ton of votes thanks to their connections

Especially Marc when Lila and Chloé give him a makeover

Lila: You look a lot prettier without all that black hair in your face.

Marc: Hey. I like black hair in my face.

*Cue 80s movie cliche where they take off his glasses, is super hot, and guys throw themselves at him*

Marinette is called in by Mme. Bustier, (You all know what she says if you’ve read Nerd’s Sara Berry au) and is now more determined to win

She orders her “friends” to get her more votes by any means necessary and demands nothing but perfection from Adrien so people will vote him King

Lila’s gym clothes are gone and participation in classes are mandatory to continue running? Chloé loans her a designer set that looks absolutely gorgeous on her

Getting Alya to snap embarrassing photos of Nathaniel? He. Can’t. Stop. Looking. Gorgeous!

Things only seem to go to hell when Lila is now tied with Marinette, and Marinette is just getting desperate

She berates her classmates for not being “good friends” and helping her win. But, little did she know, Aurore and Mireille were recording the interaction (From mentioning the sabotage to where and post it for everyone to see

Mme. Mendeleiev calls the Akuma Class in to discuss a proper punishment since M. Damocles is too lenient. So... M. D'Argencourt is gonna have them do an hour and a half of grueling physical education!... Otherwise, their prom tickets will be denied

Marinette isn't standing for this and urges them all to side with her, but none of them will, so she storms off in a huff while the others continue their punishment

However, some people are still loyal to her, so she uses that to her advantage. Cue Socqueline.

Nathaniel doesn't even care if this gets him more votes or not, he treats Marc to the best promposal ever, and he says yes.

Meanwhile... Marinette, Socqueline, and a few of her lackeys head to a paint store to pick up red paint because... Pigs are adorable and I refuse to kill one off, thank you, very much.

Look at this little baby! LOOK AT IT!

Done looking? Okay.

Prom is only a week away, and everyone is so busy prepping the venue that they don't notice Marinette and Socqueline sneaking up into the rafters with a mysterious bucket

Anyway... It's Prom Night! Yay! Marc, Nathaniel, Chloé, Lila, and Félix are looking gorgeous, taking selfies, dancing with each other, and again, looking gorgeous

Marinette and Socqueline sneak in through the back and hide behind the stage where the rope rigged to the bucket it set. Socqueline's lackeys mess with the ballot box and fill them full of fake cards with Marc and Lila's names checked off

The Akuma Class even apologize to the five of them, and while they don't entirely forgive them for siding with Marinette for so long, they leave it alone so they can enjoy the night

Finally, it's time to announce the King and Queen... It's Marc and Lila

Marc: Holy shit.

Lila: YEAH! Gimme that crown! *Runs onstage*

Félix: She's gonna sleep well tonight.

Everyone's clapping, all happy and stuff... Then Nathaniel notices something and heads backstage where he finds Marinette and Socqueline getting ready to pull a suspicious-looking rope.

He somehow manages to stop them with his noodle arms and pushes Marinette into the middle of the stage... Right when Socqueline pulled the rope.

Marinette is drenched in red paint, and it's only when people start pointing and laughing that she officially snaps. She storms out of the room to go find the fuse box, and cuts off the lights

Students begin to panic, others try to keep calm. Félix decides to treat himself to some punch to settle his nerves... Only to collapse on the floor as someone had poisoned the punch

Amidst the panic, Lila gets bashed on the head with a blunt object, a rock

Chloé's final words are, "Oh, fuck!" when her head is bashed against the wall several times

Nathaniel is found with his torso cut open and his remains were found splayed across the floor, left to marinate

When going to investigate, the teachers find Aurore had drowned when someone pushed her head in the decorative fountain in the corner of the room. No wonder she had been so quiet

And finally, Mireille's unattached body parts were found all over the room

And e's are for the easy ways in five minutes tops, Marc brought an n for end by calling the cops. (What a bitch)

... Well, that's what I got. Any ideas?

[bts-hyperfixation]

Kinktober Day 18

Seokjin - I dream of jinnie part 2

I dream of Jinnie part two, part one is in kinktober 2021, but I'm pretty sure you could read this as a stand alone.

edging, sub!Jin, Domme Y/N, overstimulation, Wish induced sex.

 "That feels so good Jagiya," Jin moans as your tongue trails across his slit, leaking pathetic amounts of cum.

You've had him tied to the bed for almost an hour now. Switching between gentle teasing and ignoring him completely every time he got too riled up. His fringe sticks to the sweat on his forehead. His voice is low and whiny, cracking a little every time he reaches the edge only for you to pull him away from the cliff. He's come close to an orgasm about six times now, you conceded and let him have two full orgasms in between. Now he was releasing his third and final spurt, more of a drizzle at this point. 

You blink your eyes and the ties disappear, the duvet instantly cleans, and Jin is no longer a dishevelled mess. You lay next to him and bring his head to your shoulder so he can cuddle in close to recover from his favourite form of torture. As you try to settle in for the night, Jin seems to get other ideas. He nuzzles into your neck, leaving trails of hot kisses along your bare flesh, you tap deliberately against his arm to get him to stop. 

"Let me make you feel good now Y/N, pretty please." He pulls away to look into your eyes, trying to sway you with his best puppy dog pout.

"Just rest Jinnie. Making you feel good makes me feel good." You lean down to kiss him gently, before reaching a hand into his hair to guide his head back to your shoulder.

"It's not the same and you know it." he huffs.

"Your sexual fantasies will always be exactly what I need and want, now stop being a brat and take a nap."

He grumbles and settles for a moment. But just as you think you've won he seems to remember exactly who you are, and by extension the power he holds over you.

"I wish you'd let me fulfil your greatest fantasy!" He says before you can even think to stop him.

"Oh fuck." You sigh as your eyes blink closed and you are whisked away from the warmth of Jin's king-sized bed into the depths of your lamp.

You glance around at the familiar layout, once again returned to its gaudy glory of an Arabian night's cliche. Mirrors line the round walls, as veils and curtains hang delicately from the ceiling providing an air of mystery. It looks like a scene from a bad porn adaptation of Aladdin. 

You try to find Jin in amongst the chaos of colourful scarves but come up blank... until you hear his unmistakable windshield wiper laugh come from a pile of overstuffed bean bags and pillows with curtain tassels.

He rises from the soft furnishings he must've landed in and turns to twirl in one of the nearby mirrored walls. 

"Never thought this was what I'd be working with." He raises an eyebrow and admires his reflection.

The broad shouldered man is clad in your traditional genie wear. From the bright pink pantaloons with extra gossimer fabric dropping in ways that accentuate the curve of his hips, to the horrendous crop top with gold coins at the hem, and the fez that you had always found cheesy. Yet, somehow, he looked better than any of the times you had imagined it. 

He swishes purposefully across the room towards your bed. The delicate lighting catching on the gold embellishments, casting cute patterns of amber across his exposed stomach and arms. 

"I thought you hated the whole stereotypical genie vibe." He said, kneeling on the edge of the bed.

You reach out to draw soft lines with your fingertips across his abs. 

"I never said that... just that it wasn't my style, per say. You, on the other hand, seem to really fit in here." 

You admire every inch of him. A new appreciation for the uniform you'd been forced to wear for millennia. He looks even more stunning than ever, femininity had always suited Seokjin in a way he hadn't always embraced, but it was one of your favourite looks on him. You had been hoping to be a little more subtle about getting him to embrace that sense of style. But this worked too.

"As much as I would love to talk through this entirely ludicrous and yet oddly charming situation a little longer, I have this intense burning urge to please you… will you let me?"

"Your wish is my command Master."  You lay back on the bed, clothes disappearing as your head hits the pillow. 

"Not Master, just Jinnie. Your Jinnie." He covers your body with his, kissing along your jawline.

"My Jinnie." You echo as he leaves adoring kisses around your neck and across your chest. 

The fabric of his genie outfit tickles as he crawls back to expose more of you to the worship of his lips. You relax as he makes sure to cover every last inch of you in kisses before coming back to your face to litter even more there. He finishes with a long slow kiss to your lips, letting you indulge in him fully. 

"Tell me what you want Y/N. Tell me what you need." 

He hovers above you and waits patiently for your answer. His arms keep his body lingering just close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off of him, but not close enough for you to actually feel him. 

"I know for a fact your little wish told you everything you needed to know about this little scenario Jin." You roll your eyes.

"But I want you to ask for it." He dips his head for another kiss, coaxing the words from you.

"I want you to be a good boy for me Jinnie, I want you to eat me out until your tongue feels like it will drop off, all while wearing that ridiculous pink fez on your head." You reach out and flick the tassel dangling from the hat over your face.

His eyelids droop at the thought and you are rewarded with another kiss.

"Then what Jagiya?" 

"Then I want to watch as you strip for me, taking every ludicrous layer of fabric off until there is nothing left to keep us apart."

You earn another kiss as he whines at the thought of being watched by you so intently.

"Finally, I want you to take me as hard and as fast as you can for as long as you can until your legs are screaming and your arms feel like they are going to break beneath you."

This kiss is bruising, teeth clashing together more focused on passion than precision.  He is hesitant to break away, the mere thought of what you really want from him enough to get him all riled up but eventually, the power of the wish drags him downward, leaving much sloppier presses of his mouth against your skin as he works his way down to your vagina. 

He wastes no time diving in, starting with rushed, sloppy licks along your slit. His tongue flattens as he cleans all of the slick that had been gathering since long before you ended up here. All the arousal that had gathered while you had been pleasing him instead, the mess you'd intended to deal with yourself. 

You allow yourself to indulge in the pleasure. Moaning loudly as the tip of his tongue flicks against your clit. You grasp on to his hair, leading him to where you need him most, listening as he whines into your pussy trying to keep a rhythm that he knows will please you. 

You tug roughly as two fingers find their way to your entrance, scissoring long before you are prepared for the stretch. It burns as he thrusts his fingers quickly, intermingled come hither motions quickly helping your orgasm build. The familiar feeling surges in your stomach as you cum over his fingers, impressed by the speed at which he brought you to completion.

"Such a good boy for me" You whisper as you smooth the mess you created in his hair, but the man doesn't stop. 

His tongue keeps playing with your clit, driving you well into overstimulation. You try to wriggle away from the feeling, but his arms snake around your thighs to keep you in place against his onslaught. 

"Tongues not tired yet." He mumbles into you.

You're forced to endure another orgasm at the mercy of his ministrations. You howl as he continues to pleasure you, cursing the way you worded your wish but desperate to see how long he could go on for. 

Apparently, his tongue could only last long enough to get you right to the precipice of your third orgasm and no further. You mourn the loss of his mouth on you as much as you welcome it, the uncomfortable heat in your stomach dissipating almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Seokjin removes himself completely from the bed. Your eyes follow his every move, entranced by the delicate way he moves. 

He starts his little strip tease by throwing the fez into your lap. You laugh happily and place the hat on your own head, only for it to disappear from existence a moment later, the wish working to remove all of your clothes from sight, apparently including any put on during the act.

He takes his time removing scarf after scarf from his waistline, casually tossing them in the air so they would float down around him, peeling away the excess layers until he is stood in just the pantaloons and crop top. He puts real effort into his grand finale, shimmying so the coins jingle, casting their golden reflection across the bed before he undoes the zip at the back allowing the sleeves to come loose and the garment to fall to the floor. 

He finds it almost impossible to remove the bottoms in a sexy way under your unwavering stare. Still, he tries. He rolls the top down his waist and shimmies until the garment comes free, falling to the floor with an unceremonious thud as the heavy metal embellishments hit the floor. He loses all pretence then, deeming his teasing portion finished as he kicks the excess fabric from his ankles and climbs back onto the bed with you.

"Are you doing okay?" He asks, unable to resist another kiss before he lets you answer.

"I'm fantastic Jinnie, you?" He nods and nuzzles at your neck, positioning himself the best way he can.

His arms support him on either side of your head, crouching down onto his forearms so he is mere inches from your face. His cock lines up perfectly with your slit, ready to go as soon as he is stable.

As soon as he is sure he can hold his position, he pushes in, filling you to the hilt almost immediately, not giving you time to adjust to his size before setting a brutal pace. It starts out as more pain than pleasure, a sentiment not echoed in the bliss displayed on his own face.

"I think my cock is going to give out long before my legs do Y/N" He confesses.

"After the number of orgasms you just had I'm surprised if you can cum at all, I thought you'd be out for the next week." 

"What can I say, something about you makes me magically rebound." He winks, pausing momentarily to kiss your nose. 

He resumes his harsh thrusts quickly, rocking the bed with the force of his motion. You squeal as he presses upwards to change the angle, hitting constantly against one of your most sensitive areas while simultaneously rubbing his pubic mound against your clit each time he bottoms out. His arms are much more likely to give out at this angle and you can see them quivering as he struggles to remain up. 

He collapses on top of you right as you cum, releasing a large umpf as he smothers you. His cock twitches pathetically inside of you as he releases what can't be more than a teaspoon of cum (there is only so much a magic refractory period can do in the space of an hour).

Not wanting to crush you, he rolls into his early position, nuzzled into your shoulder as you are transported back to his bedroom, clean and refreshed as if nothing had ever happened. You pull him in tightly to your side, completely unwilling to let this man go now or ever.

"Jinnie." You whisper cautiously, testing if he was still awake or whether you might have to wait to talk until later. 

"Hmm?" He responds, tilting his head up to look at you properly.

"We are going to need to be careful from now on." You say seriously.

He sits upright on the bed, dragging you with him. You sit cross-legged across from each other as he takes in your grave expression.

"Have I done something wrong?" He asks eyebrows knitting together in concern.

You lean forward to kiss away the furrow in his brow, a hand comfortingly snaking around the back of his neck as you press your heads together.

"No Jinnie of course not, but that was wish number two..." You explain. "One more wish and I will have to leave, that's how the magic of the bottle works."

"Maybe we can find a way around the magic Y/N, there has to be a way that you can stay with me forever." 

His eyes search yours for a glimmer of hope, but he finds none.

"I've searched for millennia Jin, hundreds, thousands, have tried to harbour my magic for longer than was intended by the fates but all have failed." 

His hands reach up to cup your cheeks, boxing your face in against his.

"How many of those people were doing it for love, not power?"

"None of them but…."

"Maybe this can be different, true love is always the fix in fairytales, maybe genies aren't so different." 

His desperation is evident in his tone. Each word tumbles from his mouth faster as his heart tries to catch up with his brain and the gravity of the situation at hand. 

"Fairytales aren't real Jin."

"No offence but I didn’t think genies were real until you zapped me into a sex dungeon 6 months ago."

You recoil from his grasp and slap him playfully on the arm.

"You did that to yourself! I just got to take charge." You point out.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way. For now though, I'll just have to be extra, extra, careful. No W word for me!" He mimes zipping his lips shut.

You shake your head but concede, at this time it's not like there’s much you can do to prevent what might be the inevitable anyway….

Masterlist

[msbarrows]

Reading Recap 2022

Saw someone else do this and liked the idea enough to also do it.

To make things easier on myself, I limited myself to a) books I read for the first time this year, that b) I added to my library in 2022. Which means there’s a handful of books I added in prior years and only got around to reading this year that are not included. Also a lot of books that I added this year but had previously read (see: slowly replacing all my favourite paperbacks with ebooks), or even just re-read this year (which would make an image with many, many more covers than this one).

Anyway - some of these I got free from Tor giveaways, some I picked up in sales, some I bought after seeing them in a Tumblr post and thinking they sounded interesting, or were written by people whose fanfiction I liked, so might as well try some of their published (or self-published) stuff too.

So, books I’ve read this year that meet the above criteria, in no particular order:

The Grief of Stones, Katherine Addison - first saw a mention of her on a Tumblr post about good fantasy authors, where her book The Goblin Emperor was mentioned. Read it, loved it, have been reading her ever since.

The Golden Enclaves, Naomi Novak - started reading her as astolat, moved on to Naomi Novak things, of course I was going to read her published Scholomance series after enjoying her earlier fanfic Scolomance series (pretty much completely unrelated other than it being based around a dangerous magic school).

Nona The Ninth, Tamsyn Muir - Added Gideon The Ninth (from a Tor giveaway) and Harrow The Ninth (on a good sale) in previous years, only finally got around to reading them just before this one was due out. Enjoyed it muchly, looking forward to the next in the series.

All The Horses Of Ireland, Sarah Tolmie - saw a gushing review of it somwehere, decided to give it a try. Liked it.

Nettle & Bone and Illuminations, T. Kingfisher - started reading her after seeing a post on Tumblr about the release of A Wizard's Guide To Defensive Baking, have been reading her ever since. Both of these were excellent.

Into The Broken Lands, Tanya Huff - I’ve been reading her since picking up a copy of Gate of Darkness, Circle of Light at the end of the 80s, and was delighted a year or two later to learn one of my fave Canadian authors worked at my all-time-favourite book store in Toronto, Bakka (oh hi person I’ve bought my weekly stacks of books from for ages, now sitting behind a table doing a signing). I highly recommend her to anyone interested in good fantasy or some light SF, particularly if they’re interested in books that include queer characters written by a queer author.

Legends & Lattes, Travis Baldree - kept hearing good things about this book, decided to make it one of my Christmas presents to myself for reading over the holidays. It was great.

The God Engines, John Scalzi - I keep hearing good things about his writing but hadn’t read anything by him yet. Saw this on sale and tried it. I think I need to try something else by him before I can decide if I like him enough to start working my way through his bibliography.

Zachary Ying and the Dragon Emperor, Xiran Jay Zhao - sounded interesting, another Christmas present to myself, something to enjoy while impatiently waiting for the next book in the Iron Widow series. It was pretty good.

Pegasus, Robin McKinley - Been wanting to read this for years (since back when she was writing about her writing progress on it on her blog well over a decade ago), and it finally dropped a few dollars in price, from “painfully expensive” to merely “new book expensive”, so I finally bought a copy. It was good, but considering how many years it’s already been out (12!) I was disappointed to hit the end and realize it’s meant to be the first in a series... which has clearly failed to materialize in the years since.

Strange And Stubborn Endurance, Foz Meadows - I don’t recall what brought this book to my attention, but I enjoyed it muchly, and am looking forward to additional books in the series (which apparently won’t be until next December). Should probably try some of their other books.

A Taste Of Iron And Gold, Some By Virtue Fall, and The Lights of Ystrac Wood, by Alexandra Rowland - that first is another where I don’t recall why it went on my wishlist, but I enjoyed it enough after getting around to buying it that I went and bought (and read) a couple more by the same author. All excellent.

Taji From Beyond The Rings, T. Cooper - I think I may have seen it mentioned on a list of queer romances? I forget. It ended up on my wishlist somehow, and when I was picking out things to read over the holidays it’s blurb sounded interesting enough to give it a shot. Liked it, and have since also picked up (but not yet read) the four books in their Familiar Spirits series.

Fete For A King, Infinite Jes, and The Lady And The Tiger, by Sam Starbuck - started reading his stuff as copperbadge, have picked up some of his self-published things this year, really enjoying the Shivadh romances (I’ve already re-read them all twice and will probably re-read them a third time when he posts the next in the series next year). Need to get around to reading the non-Shivadh ebooks I also purchased.

A Swift Kick To The Thorax, by Mara Lynn Johnstone - saw the cover, read the blurb about it being a human veterinarian dealing with aliens with an earth animal problem - thought that the sound of it put me in mind of the Piers Anthony’s Prostho Plus collection of short stories, about a human dentist dealing with alien tooth problems. It was exactly that silly. Very space opera. And also very good. Good enough that I’ve bought (but not yet read) another book by her.