#having complicated feelings about one chapter of my life being over.. its a fucked up transitory period thats prolly gonna feel worse-

[possiblytracker]

feeling normal (birthday in like 3 days that im not ready for) feeling normal (too artblocked and preoccupied to even think about finishing artfight and wrestling with guilt about it) feeling normal (-£600 in bank account) feeling normal (realised breaking my foot last year led to Lasting Consequences but cant see a physio abt my fucked up legs til january) feeling normal (has to learn to drive stick and the instructor is scary) feeling normal (stlil has no idea how to un-fuck social life after the great mental breakdown of april 2023) feeling normal (gross sobbing)

[fategoflatass]

I used to be so against the slow burn trope. Not because I thought it was shit; it's just, I usually don't have the patience to wait whatever-amount-superior-to-three damn chapters for my dear ship to finally be able to look at each other without blushing and/or hold hands. Thus why you often times see me reading oneshots or fics with the "Established Relationship" tag on them.

So you can imagine just how surprised—or maybe not, maybe I just didn't think enough about it—I was when I realized my newest fixation's main pairing is—canonically—the embodiment of slow burn. Because holy shit they're taking their time.

Nothing against how Kusuriya develops its love story—quite the opposite, actually. The relationship between Jinshi and Maomao, two characters that are written as beautifully as their romance, is a rather realistic approach as to how the same or a similar dynamic would developed in real life. In such a complicated situation, with such complex feelings about emotions—both external and their own—and attachment, makes sense that it takes so long for the relationship to finally sail.

The problem is, I didn't know I was signing with the Devil the moment I decided to pick up the light novel. Ten volumes and nothing has happened. Nothing.

And you can say that technically things have happened, because they have. I mean, Jinshi is just so desperate for Maomao to give him the time of day, you know what I mean? And even that isn't enough anymore and thus he has committed some of the craziest shit I've seen in any romance. Which okay, I don't usually read these type of romances but still.

What I mean by "nothing" is just, their relationship hasn't changed status. I could also say that it seems to go nowhere, but that'd be lying. Since, you know, it has changed quite a lot—just not in the way my impatient ass wanted it to. Because he can be as honest with his feelings as he pleases, and those around them might be heavely conscious of the tension and thus constantly tease those lovebirds (as they should), but babygirl's not helping, you know?

And I get it, Maomao's not the best at expressing and understanding herself, and she's also way too busy worrying about going as unnoticed as possible (she should give up on that one already, tbh) while keeping her head where it should be. But like, I can't help feeling frustrated over it like ‼‼

GIRL, FUCK THE RULES. TAKE THAT PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A MAN AND RUNAWAY SOMEWHERE NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO IDENTIFY YOU. YOU THEN CARRY THAT BITCH BRIDESTYLE TO THE CLOSEST CHURCH AND MAKE HIM YOUR WIFE. PROCEED TO FROG AROUND, EXPERIMENT WITH YOUR UTERUS AS MUCH AS YOU'D LIKE, AND THEN TEACH THE PRODUCTS OF YOUR PRACTICES AS YOUR OWN GUINEA PIG THE WAYS OF HERBAL MEDICINE. AS EASY AS THAT.

But she won't. She'll take her sweet ass time being in denial about both Jinshi's and her own feelings, then maybe she'll proceed to analize herself and find out that maybe, just maybe, that affection that she'd been feeling for that loser became something else. Did said affection also become something more complicated? Absolutely. Does she know how to deal with it? Hell no, but fuck it. If I learned something from school is that you always leave the hardest parts for later.

Now you see why I was so against reading slow burn?

And you wanna know the worst part? I loved it—I loved every second of it, every word, every page. Every scene that seemed to help the relationship advance, only for Maomao to say nope and leave like she owns the place, which at this point she fucking might.

It feels like I, as the reader, am in the middle of a heatwave and some sadistic bastard won't stop teasing me with ice cream—they put it in front of my face, close enough that I can smell the cold. Then take a spoon and eat little by little while staring directly to my eyes. At times they seem to show mercy and feed me a spoon, only for it to be a rather small quantity of serving—serving that tastes so damn good at first, only for it to have such a bitter aftertaste. But if I gotta have something in common with Jinshi is that I'll never be able to beat the masochist allegations, so I'll wait patiently for the next spoon and its corresponding and seemingly enless teasing from that faceless being.

So yeah, I'm still against it, only that now I understand the appeal—even if I have yet to find out about the whereabouts of my sanity while still mananing with the little I've left.

[veritable-trash]

maybe it's never truly over

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader(nickname used but no descriptors!)

Summary: It's been a long time since you've seen each other. For you it hasn't been long enough but for Miguel things are a bit more complicated.

Word Count: 1K

Rating: E - for eventual smut, friends to enemies to friends to lovers i think??? this chapter is tame just seeing if people are interested in what i might decide to cook up <3 :)

A/N: alright alright alright like literally everyone i watched spiderverse and have now descended into the black hole of being obsessed with every character from that movie but this one right here????? yes yes i like him very much. anyways wrote this for fun think i might try another series and see what comes of it. this is not sticking to any canon(lol miguel would be PISSED but this is my multiverse bitch!) because there's such a depth to his character that i want to just play with in this story potentially.

anyways if you like this little intro and want to read more and see where these two little weirdos spin their way off to reblog, send me thirsty thoughts about this man, comment to your heart's content about how his body is shaped like a dorito and i want to eat HIM!

also @dameronscopilot wrote an absolute SPICED piece for Miguel so go read that now if anyone sees this!!!!!

enjoy :)))))))))

masterlist weeeeeeeee

~~~~~

There was something different about today. 

Air shimmering like it was about to crystallize and crack at any given moment. 

Like the world was gonna stop all of a sudden and dissolve into some weird cosmic puddle. 

But not for you. Never for you because even when things felt like they were about to snap, crackle, pop, your life tended to stay a bit boring. It had been a long, long time since you’d felt any kind of twinkle in your life, and you didn’t mind it. The last time things had fizzled like that you’d been left a bit shattered yourself. 

Even still, the niggle at the nape of your neck wouldn’t let up. even the sidewalk seemed to wobble under your feet as you traversed the packed streets of Nueva York. Your palms can’t help but start sweating, heart kicking up its pace as the people around you seem to crowd and crowd and crowd. 

Alley. You need to find an alley and fucking breath. 

You turn in fast on the tight corridor, the smell of garbage helping to clear the dizziness in your head but it still isn’t gone. The feelings still there. Why won’t it just fucking leave you-

“Lyla I got it. Just check the other dimensions and report back to me I haven’t seen any signs of them here.”

And now you know why this an entire day has been like walking through jelly.

Because the second Miguel O’Hara turns around and sees you, everything absolutely shatters.

It’s been years, maybe over a decade since he’s seen you, but you’ve seen plenty of him. The magazines, the news, online, every god damn street corner of this godforsaken city conveniently reminds you of this Dorito-shaped dip shit man. 

Nothing changes in his demeanor, to an unseasoned eye, but you remember Miguel from before. Gabe’s older brother Miguel, mama’s boy Miguel, your best friend Miguel, and his eyes can’t hide the things you know deep in his heart. 

You don’t even know what to say. There’s nothing left in your brain, just him, still staring, but now from new heights, with new scars, and it scares the shit out of you.

And pisses you the fuck off.

“So what? You go radio silent for over ten years and now you’re gonna stalk me in some alley like creep? Very on brand Miguel but I thought you would have fucking grown up by now.”

His shoulders tense and you can’t stop the way your lips curve as you sense you’ve gotten to him, even if only a little. But then he’s turning away, slowly walking down the alley towards the brick wall and you realize he’s not going to say anything to you. That he’s going to just leave again without a single fucking word.

“Miguel if you don’t turn the fuck around right now and say something to me I will beat the shit out of you I swear to god. I know your weak spots don’t make me fucking use it!”

(it’s just under his ribs, but only on the right side)

“Bichito, pleas-“

“Don’t you dare fucking call me that. Don’t you fucking dare. You lost the right to call me that when you disappeared on me. Fuck you Miguel, honestly I don’t even have anything left to say to you just fuck off.”

This time his face face does crumple just a little bit and you preen at his pain. Suck it into your lungs as the boy who trampled your heart finally gets a taste of how you bled. 

You turn back to the chaos of the street and throw yourself into the people, away from Miguel and all the bullshit, earth shattering happening behind you. It’s been a long time since you’ve needed Miguel O’Hara and it’ll be an even longer time before you come back around to his antics.

Probably never.

~~~~~

He fucked up. 

Miguel didn’t know how he’d dropped the ball this hard, but he’d fucked up big time and for once it didn’t involve some stupid fucking multiverse drama. 

It involved you. 

You, the girl from down the block who used to wrestle Gabriel and make flower crowns out of the flowers growing between the cracks in the concrete. 

You, the girl who stayed up till the sky started to turn pink again listening to him rant on and on about his shitty dad and his shitty life.

You, his Bichito, his little bug, his best friend, the center of what he thought was his tiny little universe so many years ago. 

But he’d left that behind. Thought that he could find something else, find something better, finally be happy in ways he’d never even dreamed of.

And look at where it had gotten him. 

He wasn’t ever supposed to run into you again. He was supposed to be vigilant, cautious, knew that running into you would derail him a thousand times over and he had bigger things to be focusing on. Multiverse-altering, dimension-destroying things to focus on.

Yet the universe had dropped you both in that alley and something deep in his chest rippled with feelings he couldn’t seem to find a word for. It was fucking terrifying and he wasn’t going to let it fester. 

He had things to do. Universes to fix. An ever growing mantle of responsibility hanging of his shoulders.

A constant reminder of his fuck ups and the reality that he wasn’t going to let himself slip up again. 

And yet as his claws carry him up and onto the rooftops of Nueva York, Miguel O’Hara has a terrifying suspicion that he may no longer be able to stay away. 

~~~~~

hehehehAHAHHAHA god i love this twisted little sad sack man who just wants to be all rough and tough. anyways haven't written in ages and this character has gotten me at least sorta interested in writing so i just wanted to throw this out there, get something moving, even if i go back into dormancy for another millenia.

well heart eyes for you guys and forehead kisses for anyone who reads i hope your day is a dream <33333333333

[chellestrash]

Private Matters

Chapter III (18+)

Cam Boy! Frank Castle x Female Reader

Story summary: After stumbling upon a cam website one night you quickly discover your favorite streamer. Unable to get the thoughts and images of him out of your mind you decide to become a supporter and the two of you grow closer to each other over time. Things get complicated when your close friend, neighbor and crush decides to express his feelings for you.

Chapter summary: You decide to distract yourself with work as an attempt to distract your mind form the events of the previous day but Frank Castle won’t let you focus on anything that’s not him. He has a question, and needs an answer. What will you do?

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, solo play,  teasing, mention of sex toys

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Okay chapter III is here! I want to apologize for how long it took me to get this part out. I guess writers block and also life just happens and sometimes its a bit more dificult to find time to sit down and focus on writing, but im glad I managed to find that time and u hope you'll all enjoy this. Thank you my sweet @chelseasdagger for proofreading this and deeling with my whining.

The next morning brings some form of comfort, at least until the memories of last night's events begin to slowly come back to you. You stretch under the covers with a quiet yawn and sigh softly before the sudden realization strikes you out of nowhere.

“Noooooooo.”

You cry out, hiding your face in your hands, as you pull your legs up to your chest with a grunt. It doesn't help, and you feel yourself cringing at your own thoughts, memories, and yesterday's choices before attempting to find something else to focus on.

“It's fine.”

You mumble to yourself before throwing the covers off.

“It's fine.”

You reassure yourself once more, abandoning the sweet, warm comforts of your bed, leaving yourself with not much of a choice but to attempt to take on the day. Grabbing your phone off the nightstand, you quickly check one more thing your brain kindly chooses to remind you of.

The email notification from the night before. The email from the site. From him. He didn't take the money, choosing to send it back since the session didn't necessarily…end the way it was supposed to. With an “I guess there's that” attitude, you push your fingers through your hair and rub your hand over your forehead.

“Okay.”

Throwing your phone on the bed, you decide to let this become a problem for later and figure out everything you had to do today before it was time to head over to work.

***

At the bar, once again, you prepare for your shift in one of the rooms in the back. While figuring out your hair situation, one of your close work friends enters the room. You immediately feel a bit better, knowing you'd get to work with someone you actually enjoy being around this time.

“How you holding up?”

She asks, addressing the situation that unfortunately took place at the bar the day prior.

“Oh, I'm okay, thanks.”

You smile softly before shrugging gently.

“Not the first, not the last time.”

You explain and she shakes her head.

“I know, but that's fucked.”

She states and you nod, agreeing with her.

“Yeah, fucking men.”

You roll your eyes and she chuckles.

“Yeah…well…about that?”

You feel her poking your side with her elbow and look at her slightly confused.

“What?”

“What…are you gonna tell me about the knight in shining armor or…?”

“Frank?”

“See, I didn't even have to say it, you immediately thought about him.”

You breathe out a little laugh through your nose and shake your head.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, so there IS something.”

She pokes your side again, excited, and you smack her hand away jokingly.

“There is no something there, nothing there!”

“Alright! Okay, okay, don’t tell me then, but he has a thing for you…and you have a thing for him!”

She makes sure you hear her before dodging the hoodie you throw at the door before slipping out of the room.

Shaking your head, you sigh loudly, smiling, partially at the interaction and partially at the thought of Frank having…a thing…for you.

You finish up quickly and follow your friend to the main room, getting behind the bar as you get ready for another work day, Frank still on your mind, a small smile on your face.

***

The shift is slow, the hours drag one after the other, and you can slowly begin to feel the events of the past few days catching up with you. The emotions' adrenaline of both the almost-bar-fight and the awkward situation that occurred at your place later that night slip away, and you feel the sudden, overwhelming exhaustion.

“This seat taken?”

You sigh, relieved, turning around with a big smile on your face, your eyes immediately searching for his.

“Don't think so, why?”

You tilt your head and squint softly, teasing him slightly as you attempt to mimic his mannerisms.

“Ahhh, just thought I'd hang out here, keep you company?”

He suggests, and you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“I look like I need company?”

You ask, your eyebrows pull together, your hip pushes out to the side slightly.

“I mean…"

Frank looks around the bar, eyes glancing over the many empty chairs, tables and booths.

“Shut up.”

You don't let him finish, and he chuckles loudly, dropping his head and shaking it slowly.

“It's a slow day.”

You shrug and explain as you finish polishing another glass.

“Maybe that's a good thing?”

Frank asks, and you agree, having him now right here insured you that the day would be far more entertaining than you first thought.

“Maybe it is.”

You wipe your hands on the bar uniform, resting your arms on your hips before glancing back up at the man sitting in front of you. His pretty face, dark hair and eyes, the dark navy blue, almost black shirt with the sleeves rolled up half the way. His arms resting on the counter, his frame taking up just so much space.

“Right, what can I get you, sweetheart.”

You tease in a sweet voice and smirk at the way he glares at you after hearing the pet name.

“The usual?”

***

Frank keeps you company as the evening slowly passes by, staying at the bar for most of your shift. He asks a couple of times, needing to make sure he’s not really bothering you, but you assure him that having someone to entertain you instead of staring at a wall for hours is, believe it or not, a good thing. With the slow traffic at the bar and not a lot happening in general throughout weekdays, you spend the majority of your shift talking to Frank and at the same time attempting to avoid your friend’s “I told you” glare.

“So, been sleeping okay?”

He asks, and you shift your attention back to him.

“Hmm? Oh!”

You watch him take another sip from the beer bottle and your eyes linger at his Adam’s apple for a bit too long.

“You telling me I look tired, Castle?”

You push your hip out to the side a bit, your hands crossed in front of your chest, fighting off the quiet chuckle as you watch his confused expression.

“Really?”

“What?”

“You’re gonna pull that card, huh?”

He glances up at you, the beer bottle still in his hand, his eyes jumping around your face.

“Maybe…”

“Yeah?”

He tilts his head to the side, squinting softly.

“Or maybe not…”

He scoffs before taking another sip, and you roll your eyes, shaking your head softly before walking off to take care of another customer.

“So…you doing okay? After…yesterday?”

Frank asks, sounding genuinely concerned, after you walk back to him.

“I am pretty tired, actually.”

You explain after a moment and watch the expression on his face change. His features soften, but he looks concerned at the same time, worried?

“Something happened?”

He attempts to find the answer out, but you shake your head with a little smile, unable to even begin to think about trying to explain to him what you put yourself through the night before.

“Nothing serious, just, been dealing with my own irresponsibility lately.”

That feels like an appropriate way to summarize your situation.

“Shit, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You feel your insides double over and your heart skip a few beats, the whiplash of the last time you heard that word hitting you harder than you could've expected.

“No it’s fine, it’s okay I’ll… I’ll handle it, don’t worry…just”

You wave your hand around, signaling you’d prefer to move on with the topic now, quickly getting busy with another task you suddenly had to get done. Frank watches you for a moment, sipping on the beer as he visibly battles with something on his mind.

“So…”

You start.

“What’s happening up there?”

“Hmm?”

He asks, raising his eyebrows as you suddenly pull him out of his thoughts, nodding in his direction. The question acts as a distraction, but at the same time you're genuinely intrigued about what's on his mind.

“Shit, okay…”

He sighs loudly and sits up straight, setting the empty bottle off to the side.

“Okay, listen…”

You smile and lean on the counter in front of him.

“I-I-I..."

He shrugs.

"I don't want you thinking I'm trying to...add to everything you have going on."

“Oh, you’re fine.”

You smirk, trying to get him to relax a bit more, once you notice he actually does seem softly tense.

“Right…was thinking maybe…”

Frank starts, shrugging softly and looking off to the side before turning his face back to look at you. You watch as he struggles to get his words out with a gentle smile, amazed by the fact of how nervous he looks. The sight in front of you contrasts so vividly with the Frank Castle people around both you and him knew, you chuckle softly and smile a bit bigger.

“You can just tell me.”

“Yeah, I don't know, just...”

He shrugs again, squinting and titling his head to the side some before finally finishing the question.

“Maybe you wanted to grab a beer together sometime?”

His eyes focus on your face, trying to predict your reaction, and you feel your stomach tensing up with the sudden wave of excitement. All the little hints you thought you've been noticing, the way he'd act around you, the way he made you feel, or even just talk to you. How he'd take time out of his day to spend it with you, ask about your things, genuinely worry and maybe care about you as well? All those things bounce around your mind right now as you attempt to get it through your head that Frank Castle might actually feel something for you, and you haven't been just imagining things.

“Like…here?”

“Wherever you want.”

“So, like a date?”

He freezes, swallowing hard like the word is something he was trying to somehow avoid in case it would scare you off.

“Like a date.”

He confirms quickly. You quickly glance over at your friend, and she looks away from the two of you, not very effectively pretending like she wasn't just staring at you both, attempting to decipher the situation, before turning back to look at Frank again.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I'd like that.”

"Yeah?"

He asks quietly, the subtle raise of the corner of his lips indicating a smile.

"Yeah!"

You agree enthusiastically, not even attempting to hold back the big, bright smile and Frank immediately sits up a bit, taking a big breath in before nodding back with that little pout he does.

“Alright…good."

He clears his throat, taking another sip from the bottle.

"So we'll just..."

"Oh, we can just work out the details later?"

You suggest and he agrees.

"That works."

"Good!"

"Good."

"Alright I should...."

Frank starts after checking the time, probably for the first time since he got here earlier that day.

He points his thumb behind himself, over his shoulder, without finishing the sentence.

“Oh, yeah!"

“Just…have some shit to deal with.”

“Yeah sure!”

You reassure him with a smile, grabbing the empty beer bottle before handing him back his money.

"It's on the house."

You explain in response to his confused expression.

"Shit, really? Damn... I mean, if I knew that before...would've asked you out already."

He can't help but smile, allowing himself to relax at the sound of your laugh.

"Fuck you, Castle."

"I mean..."

"Right, get out!"

***

You spend most of the rest of the day, after the shift, with your work friend. Filling her in on the talk with Frank, not really getting much more than “I told you” as a response. You finish up the shift, then grab a couple drinks together. You stay in contact with Frank throughout the evening, both of you finally deciding that today probably won't necessary work for the date and settling on catching each other some time tomorrow. There's a slight bit of relief when you realize you don't have to stress over the meeting, at least for a couple more hours. Because no matter how well you know Frank and how close you two are as friends, there's still that uneasy feeling you'll somehow manage to mess this up. You can't help it, Franks older than you and quite a bit actually, not too much to make it weird but, it's not something that goes unnoticeable. You've been dating guys here and there on and off for some time, but it was never really someone you cared about even slightly as much as you cared about Frank. You were friends before there were any sorts of feelings, so the possibility of risking a good friendship, like this one, was not one you could look past without worrying about it.

"Shit."

You mumble quietly, slowly pushing yourself up to sit up on your couch.  A loud sigh follows, expressing your frustrations, before you reach for your phone.

“It'll be fine.”

A text from your friend followed up by

“We’ll think of something if you'll fuck it up.”

You breathe out a little laugh and respond with an “Oh, thanks,” before expressing your worries in another message. Instructed not to do anything else today but attempt to relax, you rest your head against the back of your couch, closing your eyes for a moment just to cut yourself off from your surroundings, at least for a moment.

With your eyes closed, and your body attempting to relax, your brain quickly follows, your mind slowly slipping back into the more pleasant parts of the last couple of days. With your life occupied mostly by work lately, your brain escapes to the parts of those days that helped ease your tired body.

You feel your insides tensing up some as the images of certain live streams play back in your head. The now familiar shot of the camera, the broad shoulders, big arms and thighs. And those, those god-damn sounds that your brain couldn't possibly avoid even if you wanted it to. You don't. The praises you heard through the computer speaker work well with the confidence boost that is your neighbor, and friend you've been crushing on for a while, asking you out.

***

You feel your computer mocking you as it suggests the site just moments after you open the internet browser.

“Okay.”

You mumble with an eye roll before clicking on the suggested search.

“Smartass.”

Today's live stream already happened a bit earlier, and you realize you missed that opportunity. After checking the available schedule, you realize there's an opening between a few private sessions planned for later in the night. You're not sure if it's because of the slight boost of confidence, the images your brain keeps relaying in your head, the anxiety of the planned date or your need to get rid of the awkwardness of what happened in your session yesterday, but after checking your bank account and the money return one more time, you choose to book another session.

Sitting back on your couch again, you let out a loud sigh, unable to tell if you feel relieved or even more anxious at that point.

Going through a couple clips from today's stream, you feel yourself relaxing slightly as the time of your scheduled meeting approaches slowly. The coaching, pet names and praises, even if not directed at you in the clips, work their magic in a very convincing way and you once again feel yourself falling under “The Punisher’s” spell.

It's too late to scold yourself at this point. You can tell how your body reacts to him, you feel silly for it still, but the need for reassurance before a date with a guy you're trying to impress towers over the feeling of your stomach falling into a bottomless pit.

***

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You suddenly feel the need to scream into a pillow until your neighbors file a noise complaint.

“Saw the username, didn't know what to think. Thought I'd scared you off last time.”

He remembers.

You immediately feel your cheeks, your whole face getting hotter as he continues to speak.

“You got the money back right, sweetheart? Thought it was only fair since we…didn’t really get to make you feel good.”

He continues, and you feel your legs pushing together slightly at the deep, raspy sound of his voice.

“You wanted to try again? Hmm?”

Your eyes jump to his pretty hands once he runs them up and down his thighs.

“You there, Sweetheart?”

“I'm here.”

You text in the chat again, and hear that quiet chuckle, which makes you want to see his face even more now than ever.

“There she is. Still just chat?”

He asks, his thumb slowly brushing over the bulge in his sweatpants.”

“We’ll see.”

You send the message and watch his fingers pause for a moment as he reads it out.

“Attagirl, look at you.”

The praise, once again, makes you feel like your body is slowly beginning to melt through the cushions of the couch.

“Would love to hear you.”

He mentions, sliding down a bit lower on the chair before pushing his legs open slightly.

“Maybe you will.”

You answer in the chat, following his lead as you sit slightly lower on the couch and spread your legs open.

“My lucky day, huh?”

You don't answer this time, instead focusing on the movements of his hands, how he pushes them up and down his thighs again before wrapping his fingers over the bulge in his pants, remembering what you wanted him to do last time.

“Just this again, sweetheart? That enough for you?”

You confirm in the chat, knowing it was probably the safest option and if he were to do something a bit more intense, you would probaby-

His grunt pulls you back, as if he knows you started to slip, but you quickly focus back on the image on your laptop screen.

“Shhhit.”

You whisper, quickly pulling your pants down and tossing them off to the side, deciding to touch yourself over the fabric of your underwear.

“Can you talk to me?”

You quickly type out in the chat, struggling for a moment to write the message while keeping your other hand between your legs.

“Talk to you, baby? Hmm? You just want to hear me?”

His words ring out in your ears, his palm cupping his bulge over the fabric.

“What if I want to hear you too, baby? Hmm? How is that fair?”

Humming quietly at his question, you consider it, glancing over at the little light on your computer, the one indicating whether your microphone is on or off. You know it's just teasing, he's doing his job, probably doesn't even mean it, but it doesn't change the fact of how the words make you feel.

“Okay…tell you what.”

He starts again after a moment.

“Can you let me know you can hear me, sweetheart? Hmm? Can you do that?”

You pull yourself up, hitting the keys as fast as possible before sending the message.

“Good girl, okay.”

He praises, wrapping his hand tighter around himself.

“How bout, we have some fun, huh?”

You watch him reach out for something out of view.

“You got anything that can help you feel good, baby?”

The question makes you immediately glance over in the direction of your nightstand, your mind going to the vibrator hidden in one of the drawers.

“Maybe.”

Is your answer in the chat, and he chuckles.

“You want to get it? Mind if I use this? Hmm?”

He asks, holding the object up to the camera, making sure you're able to see it. You whine out quietly, your eyes on the silicon cock sleeve in front of you on the screen of your laptop.

“Jesus…”

You mumble, typing out the response, letting him know you definitely didn't mind it whatsoever.

“Okay, okay good. Let's get you feeling good then, hmm?”

He mumbles after a moment, pulling the sweatpants down and exposing his black boxers. They're pulled down low, tight around his big thighs, the fabric straining between his legs. You bite down on your lip, feeling the blood rushing between your legs, the warmth spreading all over your body as you watch him touch himself over the fabric, pushing his hips up against his hand.

He hums quietly and so do you, brushing your fingers against yourself over your panties.

It takes you a moment, but you quickly stand up and run over to your nightstand, grabbing the vibrator before returning to the laptop.

You watch him cup himself over the fabric for another moment, fingers tight around his cock now. He grunts, pulling the boxers down some more before pausing for a second.

“You with me? Hmm.”

You confirm quickly, dying to see those boxers come off. Your heart pounding, your legs pressing together, your fingers digging into your thigh as you wait to see him.

“Yeah? You like what you're seeing?”

You roll your eyes at the question, letting yourself relax some more. Sitting back on the couch a bit more comfortable, you hold the vibrator up between your legs, your eyes glued to the screen as you watch the fabric slide lower and lower before finally, his cock springs out of the black boxers, and you hit the switch on your vibrator at the same time.

The grunt following him sliding the sleeve onto his cock makes you feel like your stomach ties into a knot, and you take a deep, shaky breath in. Your hand hovering over the microphone button as you rethink this again. The slow, raspy grunts as he moves the sleeve up and down his length finally cancel out the anxiety, and you hit the button.

He doesn't notice it at first. You press the vibration against yourself and feel your body tensing up at the sensation for another moment, before you decide to pull the fabric off to the side.

“Mmmmmm, fuck.”

You can't help the words slipping past your lips, and you watch him freeze on the screen for a second, just like he did the last time. The quiet, rumbly sound now comes out of the speakers of his own computer as he decides if he should let you know or not.

“Hey…sweetheart? Don't…don't get upset.”

He starts softly, and you pull the toy away, eyes on the screen, waiting for him to continue.

“Think your mic is on."

You don't reply.

"You...you want it off?”

There's a pause, neither of you talk for a moment.

“I want it on.”

You speak up, your voice a bit higher than it'd normally be.

“Atta-fucking-girl! Look at you, getting brave, are we? Let's go, sweetheart, let's make you feel good."

***

“So what made you buy the session again? Felt bad for leaving me hanging the last time?”

You chuckle quietly, watching his chest move with big, deep breaths, your own chest rising and falling faster than usual as you both attempt to calm down after what just took place.

“I just…have a date soon. I guess I'm…kinda anxious, I just wanted to…feel good, not think about it."

You watch how his body relaxes when you start talking, his fingers brushing over his thighs slowly, the muscles in his arms now softer. Not as refine as when he stroked his cock for you just minutes before.

“Alright, that someone you like?”

He asks, and you feel your cheeks getting warmer again. Talking about this with a person you barely know feels dumb, but at the same time, he seems so comforting, so understanding.

“Yeah, I do, I want it to go well, I just think I might fuck it up.”

“Hey, you know what I think?”

You don't answer and he continues.

“Think you're gonna go on that date, have fun, and the guy will be fucking lucky to have you there, yeah?”

You can't fight back the small smile appearing on your face.

“You think?”

“Damn right, I do, sweetheart!”

You laugh again and so does he.

“I mean listen, if he'll get to hear half of the things you let me hear today…shit.”

“Okay, but you HAVE to say that.”

You interrupt.

“Oh, you don't know that!”

He cuts you off, laughing some again.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don't.”

You push your legs together, letting yourself relax now, the conversation helps a lot more than you thought it would in the first place.

“It'll be good, you got it…just be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Thanks for this-”

You start, but he cuts you off quickly.

“No, no, no sweetheart, thank you.”

You breathe out a little laugh, shaking your head slowly.

“I should go.”

You mention after checking the time, the session about to end.

“Yeah…well listen…”

You pause, eyes glued to the screen.

“I’ll miss seeing you in the chat if the date goes well.”

Tag list: @chelseasdagger @lorilane33 @dreadfulxives18 @5thelement @desert-fern @joybabyjune @ohgodthebogisback @barnesbabee

[padfootagain]

Where We Kept Our Magic (III)

How We Met Again

Hello lovelies! Here is a second part for my Muggle!Reader AU!! I hope you like this new scene, tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x Muggle!Reader

Warnings: none for this chapter

Summary: You and Sirius meet when you’re still young, and yet you fall head over heels for each other. But everything gets complicated when you learn that Sirius is a Wizard! Now, your whole world has to be reimagined. -This series is made of many independent snippets taken from Sirius and Muggle!Reader’s lovestory –

Word Count : 2175

Masterlist for the series - Sirius Black's Masterlist - Main Masterlist

A couple of weeks have passed, and Sirius misses you. And he hates it. He is surprised by it, too. The feeling has come out of the blue, unexpected and unwanted as it settled in his ribcage, carved his way into his heart.

He doesn’t understand it at all. He’s had only a couple of dates with you, spent two afternoons in your company, and this evening at the concert. He doesn’t know that much about you. He doesn’t know how you drink your tea, what you eat for breakfast, the colour of your eyes under the rain. And it’s making things worse, because he wants to know. He longs to ask you what’s your favourite flower and your favourite colour and how you drink your coffee…

And whenever he closes his eyes, he sees yours, wide open, so close to him, staring into his soul. And he can taste your lips on his tongue again, smell your perfume in the air…

He huffs, annoyed. He’s being ridiculous. You weren’t even together, you’ve shared a few hours and a kiss. You weren’t even his first kiss. Was he yours?

He pushes the thought away, sits up as if it’ll help his brain thinking other thoughts. It doesn’t.

“If I hear you sigh one more time, Pads, I’ll hex you so hard you’ll be sent to Antarctica.”

“You really do have to hang out less with Evans, you’re stealing her silly threats now.”

“I want to punch you in the face so hard.”

“Better, sounds more like you.”

In James’s bedroom, the sun pours in golden hues, fresh and clean and too warm. It almost burns, despite its travel through the windowpane.

Sirius is sitting on the ground, and James is splayed on his bed, a novel in his hand that he disregards in favour of his best friend.

“You really have to see her again.”

“Why? She doesn’t want to see me.”

“She doesn’t want a fling. She literally wants to see you too much for the two of you to be a meaningless fling.”

“And that’s impossible. We’ve been through this already.”

“Clearly we need to go through this one more time, because you’re still mopping…”

“I am not…”

“You are. You miss her.”

Sirius remains quiet, his back resting against James’s bed.

“You should try to see her again.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to look, I don’t know her address.”

“As if it could stop the Marauders.”

Sirius can’t refrain a tender smile.

“Yeah, you’re right. You three are as mad as I am.”

“That’s why you love us so much!” James laughs, nudging Sirius with his knee.

“Fuck off, or I’ll break your kneecaps!”

“And risk mom’s wrath? I believe you.”

Sirius merely chuckles, hiding behind a snicker the way his heart inflated with fondness. James isn’t calling Euphemia his mother anymore, but their mom. True brothers…

“She’s a muggle. We’ll leave for Hogwarts in a couple of months and…”

“Yes, I know,” James rolled his eyes. “You kind of repeat yourself these days.”

“It would be too complicated.”

“Perhaps she’s worth the complication.”

“That comes from a guy who definitely likes complications when it comes to girls…”

Sirius doesn’t finish his sentence, he’s hit by a pillow instead.

“Anyway, what I was saying is… you should try anyway. You’re missing her already.”

“That’s the whole point… what if I fall for her? Like… really fall for her?”

“Your life will get immensely more complicated. And you’ll love every second of it.”

“You and your bloody romantic antics…”

“Ha, yes, I had forgotten how our good old Padfoot is full of cynicism these days.”

Sirius checks the time, and he’s happy to offer a distraction from the current conversation. After all, James and he have to hurry up if they don’t want to be late to meet Remus and Peter at Green Park.

Still, when he’s tying his shoes, he’s still thinking about that smile of yours.

Summer is too warm this year, you wish for a fresh breeze to cool your skin, your head and your heart.

You’re still thinking about Sirius. You haven’t said a word of it to Jackie, besides telling her that it was over, that you were right and that Sirius didn’t want anything serious. It was hopeless, it would remain a silly crush on a stranger at a concert.

Your heart has other plans though. Because it aches just thinking about him. You can feel his lips on yours and your skin burns at the memory. You see his stormy eyes over and over again at night.

You miss him. You hate that fact, but you can’t deny the truth of it. You miss him, you want to see him again. Even if it means getting your life immensely complicated, even if it means letting him break your heart.

You don’t talk about it, though. What would be the point, anyway? Instead, you merely look sadder than usual, look at the sun through your sunglasses even if you shouldn’t, and try to breathe despite the longing in your chest.

Jackie has managed to drag you to Green Park, despite your terrible mood. She even managed to make you laugh, God knows how. You’re thankful for it, even if you hate it.

You’re lying in the grass, Jackie by your side is reading while you look through the branches at the blue sky and the burning sun. Your world is tainted pink by your sunglasses. You love it.

The park is busy, but you don’t mind. The unregular noises around you are numbed by the grass under you, the branches swaying gently, the superposition and mingling of voices. In the end, you barely notice the noise at all.

And it’s all relaxing, and for the first time in two weeks, your mind wanders not towards Sirius’s grey eyes but the shape of the leaves above you and you wonder how soft they can be up there, caressed only by the wind, before their fall.

Your quiet thoughts are interrupted though, by a frisbee landing right onto your stomach. You’re startled as it passes before your face and the next second rests on your abdomen; you let out a little shriek, that makes Jackie jump as well.

You sit up in a hurry, fumbling with the plastic toy. Damn, what kind of idiotic twat is clumsy enough to throw their frisbee on people…

You turn around, ready to throw hands with the culprit… when you’re left blinking instead.

A boy in a dark t-shirt is running towards you, freezing as he recognizes you.

Bullocks…

“Y/N?”

Sirius blinks. Once, twice, thrice, but you’re still here, sitting in the grass. He can’t help the smile that forms on his lips.

You look so beautiful, so adorable with your pink glasses…

“I…”

You look down at the frisbee, hand it over to him in a hurry without meeting his eyes.

“Oh, yeah… sorry about that. James is terrible at this game. He’s wearing his glasses, and still can’t aim for shit.”

His attempt at humour is met by a heavy silence and a terrible drop of his heart.

He looks down, cheeks burning, and not only because of his run. He takes the frisbee with a quiet thanks and is ready to walk away again when…

“Hey! Isn’t that your girl, Padfoot?”

You see Sirius wincing as a tall boy with glasses runs to him, half jumping on Sirius’s back as he comes to a stop by his side.

He shoots you and Jackie a grin.

“Hi! I’m James! And you must be Y/N!”

You nod, but can’t seem to find your voice. Jackie introduces herself, struggling not to laugh at you as you steal glances towards Sirius but look away every time his eyes meet yours. Meanwhile, Remus and Peter have joined the small group, introduced themselves, and are now quietly laughing at Sirius’s flushed cheeks, along with the fact that he can’t look away from you.

He's missed you. So terribly. He was a fool. He wants you so badly. He can recall the taste of your lips, and he longs for it now more than ever.

But he shakes himself out of his trance as he hears Remus asking if they can join you and your friend.

“These idiots have never played frisbee before, and I’m tired of trying to teach them. They’re desperate cases, at this point.”

“Thanks, Moony,” James mumbles under his breath, along with something about talent and a weird word… quid… something. You guess it must be a Scottish sport, as Sirius said he went to school there.

Why is he going to a school so far from home though?

You shake yourself. You don’t care. You don’t care about Sirius, about his friends, about their school, or about how the sun shines on Sirius’s magnificent eyelashes. You are about to decline the offer when Jackie grins and accepts… the traitor…

And you hate the rest of this afternoon. You hate it because everything goes smoothly. Sirius’s friends are a little weird but hilarious and nice. And Sirius is a little quieter than usual, but you’ve noticed the way his eyes linger on you, the way he can’t help staring…

And you hate it because you long for his gaze on you. Because you let your eyes drift towards his frame too. Because you feel happy and excited now that he’s near again. Because you want to kiss the cigarette taste away from his lips as he puffs out some smoke.

He catches you smiling dreamily as you look at his earing shining in the summer sun, and you hate the smirk that forms across his features as you shy away under his stare.

Damn, this charming boy…

And the afternoon passes too quickly, too soon already the sun has begun setting, and the park is about to close. You need to go home, and you don’t want to. You need to say farewell to Sirius all over again, and you don’t want to. And you hate him for that…

But as you’re about to part, about to say goodbye to turn around and never see him again, Sirius reaches for your hand, stare too intense to let you escape.

“Can we talk? Just for a minute?”

You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, but nod anyway.

And you hate the look Jackie throws at you, the knowing kind. You hate everything about today. You hate the softness of Sirius’s palm, the gentleness of his hold as he pulls you away from the group, the warmth of his skin spreading under yours.

You hate everything about him. You hate him… you hate him…

When he turns around, a wild strand of hair swings across his cheek, escaping from his bun, and you hate it too. You hate how good he looks right now, how you long to reach out and brush the hair behind his ear…

“Can I be brutally honest?”

He stares at you intensely again, and there’s confidence in his stature, in the way he leans towards you, in the urgency of his tone. Still, his voice trembles.

“Sure, go ahead.”

He takes a deep breath.

“I want you.”

Your eyes grow round at that, and you hate him. You hate him because you like hearing these words coming from his mouth, because you want nothing but to kiss him…

“I know that last time we… we decided not to see each other again, but… the truth is, I want you. And I… I want us to give it a shot.”

“Sirius, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know, but…”

“I haven’t changed my mind.”

“I have.”

You stop breathing altogether, your heart skips a few beats, and you hate it. You hate it so much you want to cry.

“I’ve changed my mind. I want to try this.”

“Are you playing with me?”

“No, I’m not.”

And you hate the fact that you can read in his eyes that he’s telling the truth.

“I want to try. I like you. A lot. And… these past couple of weeks… and seeing you again today, I’ve realized… I want to give this a try. Let’s go on another date.”

“But Sirius…”

“Give me another chance,” he interrupts you, taking a step closer. “Please… please give me another chance.”

And you want to say no. You want to slap him and you hate him because you’ve been hoping, dreaming of this moment even, and desperately so. And you hate yourself because you want to say yes, and you can’t help the words that pass your lips even if they’re so unbearably unwise.

“Okay,” you nod. “But you won’t get a third.”

He grins.

“Friday?”

Slowly, you nod.

“Friday.”

Before you can ask where you will meet, Sirius has reached up to cup your face, and has crushed his lips to yours.

And as you lose your fingers through his hair and melt into his arms, you love every second of it…

*************************************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic @hells-escapees @cloudbroomblog @omgrachwrites

[fangbangerghoul]

ITS HERE!

Chapter 8: Acensionism

As usual: MDNI, 18+ WC: 4330 A whirlwind of emotions takes our characters to situations never imagined by any of them. Sam, Ghoul, Delgado This chapter has been on my mind since I started really planning out this entire miniseries of Starfield Tales. Thank you so much for being patient with me with this chapter and I really hope it is worth the wait! Not all will be posted here, the rest will be on Ao3 link below! AO3 Link (reblogs, replies, comments, kudos, all appreciated but never required!)

Chapter 8: Ascensionism

Everything was uncomfortable. The air was heavy, cold, and hard to breathe. It seemed the life support functions on this side of the station were just oxygen and gravity. The only heat this room retained was whatever was left over from the deck above which, if Ghoul was right about placement, was Delgado’s private quarters. Her body ached from the beatings she had taken the past 72 hours and the one in particular Delgado gave her when they were alone. She was angry at herself for giving in so quickly but she was tired, hungry, and whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not desperate for connection. Even if that connection was only skin deep. 

Ghoul knew she wasn’t strong enough to bust out of here if she could and let herself reveal too much, but there was also something about the way he commanded a room that made her want to give him even more. His prowling nature and dominance over his Fleet was something that lit a fire inside her. The way his eyes always lingered on hers like she had answers for him only she knew. Ghoul knew she shouldn’t feel this way about him even if the way he took her body made the nerves inside her tingle with electricity. Delgado was still a mother fucker for throwing her in this hole. The ‘cell’ he referred to was more so a storage room closet and it was big enough for her to fit in it and maybe one other person without their feet touching. 

She banged her head on the wall behind her to keep herself awake. The dull pain was enough to keep her alert and conscious. She stayed up through the whole night cautious of what the Fleet would have in store for her now that she was an outed traitor. She expected Delgado was holding his meeting with his second in command and a few of his trusted captains of the Fleet preparing something extra gruesome just for her. Ghoul was still shocked she didn’t have a bullet through her head yet and was even allowed to shower before she was thrown in here. It felt unusual for Delgado to keep her alive for this long considering it’s widely known how he disposes of people for less. The heavy sigh that escaped her chest revitalized some of the memories Ghoul purposely had repressed. Images of her Constellation friends, the enemies she had killed along the way, and Sam. 

“Fucking kill me already.” She said to herself with such boredom that it made the corner of her lips curve slightly. Ghoul was starting to feel the immense weight of some of her decisions but what was done was done. She knew she had to admit to herself that a lot of those decisions were made because she could have made them with or without the influence of the Crimson Fleet. She could blame her ‘mother’ but nothing would come of that. It had been so long without anyone she was finally allowing herself to call a friend that she thought perhaps they were smart and moved on. It would be a suicide mission to come after her now. The SysDef wouldn’t bother not that she wanted them to, because fuck them too. 

Her web of complicated thoughts and feelings were interrupted by the sound of metal screeching. There was a little extra light that appeared in the room she was in and her eyes immediately squinted at the sight of it. There was a dark figure that blocked the light that shone through to the room and Ghoul wasn’t entirely sure who it was while her eyes still adjusted. 

“Look who’s awake. The Rook or should I just call you the traitor?” The raspy sounding shrill was no one other than Naeva. It was clearer now with the way she casually leaned against the door frame and how her shoulders jutted forward with importance. 

“Oh, look you found me. Here I thought you all would just forget about me down here.” Ghoul said with a snide. She was not going to act like a hurt animal even though she felt as low and a bit hopeless like one. The flash memories of her ship mates panged at the shadow of her heart. It dragged her down while simultaneously encouraging her to do something irrational and impulsive. Plus, maybe if she played Naeva’s anger right, she could get out of this fucking dump. A foolish thought but when did she ever have a rational one. 

“You still got jokes. That’s reaaaal funny coming from a dead man.” Naeva loomed over Ghoul and she seemed to enjoy the display of power she had over Ghoul in this moment. She took a few steps over to Ghoul and bent over to have their faces only half a foot apart. “I know it was you who stirred up all that trouble in the bar. You still owe me for that mess you made. Now you owe me for vouching for traitorous scum. I warned you what would happen if you fucked me over.” 

Naeva spit on Ghoul after she let out a disgruntled growl and before Ghoul could respond to her mini monologue Naeva’s foot kicked her head back. The force of the boot against Ghoul’s chin made her teeth grind with immense force and her head to ricochet off the metal wall. The spot of dull pain that was on the back of her head from keeping herself awake was now a little warm and wet. Ghoul’s vision took a moment to set right again but even if she couldn’t see exactly where Naeva was about to kick her next, she knew the woman wouldn’t be able to resist doing it again. Ignoring the shockwaves of pain pulsing throughout her skull, Ghoul used her hands that were tied up to push her off the wall with enough force to lift her body at an upward angle. The rest of the momentum was focused on pushing her legs up enough to kick the bitch back. Ghoul missed and her body was flat on the floor, her frustration building while Naeva stood for a moment laughing at her futile attempt.

“You dumb bitch. You aren’t shit when you don’t have your little knives or high off your aurora addiction.” Naeva’s fingers were soon wrapped in Ghoul’s hair, lifting her off the floor and tearing at her scalp. The amount of times someone went for Ghoul’s hair was really starting to make her lose her shit just a little more than usual. 

“Say’s the bitch that follows a man’s orders all the time.” Ghoul croaked feeling like there was blood running down her throat. She probably bit her tongue enough to make it bleed again. “You wouldn’t dare hit me like this if my arms weren’t tied behind my back and we both know it.” 

The array of insults Ghoul spat back was enough to light a flame in Naeva’s eyes and the energy was matched with her fist directly into Ghoul’s face. Another impact that sent stars into Ghoul’s vision and there wasn’t much Ghoul could do to avoid the impact with her head held in place by her own hair and Naeva’s determination to give Ghoul her taste of punishment. She was preparing herself mentally for another hit to the face but Naeva threw her down and kicked her in the abdomen. 

“Are you fucking satisfied yet? Or do you want me to moan your name too?” Ghoul coughed out hoarsely and spit a bit of blood onto the floor. She wasn’t sure if she was determined to make Naeva kill her or if it was the masochist in her that made her want to goad this woman. Her head was down on the cold floor and her knees barely held her up at all. The pain was just consistent ripples that flowed throughout her body dulling with time but still felt in every inch of her nervous system. 

“You’re just a real fucking jokester.” Naeva now bent down and grabbed one of her arms and forced Ghoul up to her feet. When Ghoul started to fall from not being able to balance on her feet immediately, she just roughly pulled her up even more, forcing her on her two feet one way or another. “You know I had real high hopes for you, Rook. You were one I was looking forward to rising in the ranks.” 

“How sweet of you.” Ghoul wheezed as she leaned against the wall by the doorway. She wasn’t ready to move yet her stomach was nauseated and her head ringed from the impacts. Her body had already started to get the unpleasant side effects of aurora withdrawal a few hours ago so all the hits she felt from this woman were magnified tenfold. 

“Yeah, shut the fuck up. You were requested by Delgado.” Naeva said with annoyance as she waited for Ghoul to get back up. Naeva led the way as Ghoul slumped behind her. The way up the stairs seemed longer than when she went down only 24 hours ago. Naeva consistently looked over her shoulder to make sure Ghoul was still following and for once she was just following. Ghoul knew she didn’t have many options left to choose from and at this point she couldn’t fathom why she was even still alive. It was one thing to have been coerced into helping the SysDef but it will be a whole other mountain entirely to assist the Crimson Fleet to evade what the UC has planned.

The final hall before the command center was dimmer than usual and it felt ominous. The two Fleet members that stood guard opened the doors as soon as Naeva was in sight and their eyes were locked onto Ghoul. Watching her as if she were going to attack them at any moment.

Ghoul walked into the low lit command center, the crimson fleet logo lit in the background and a few command consoles lit up and in use. Delgado stood in the middle of the room under the one yellow ray that fell from the ceiling as if he was about to put on a show. Naeva stopped at his right and turned back to Ghoul, the both of them staring at her with impenetrable glares.

“I see Naeva had her fair share of you.” Delgado’s voice was husky and mixed with amusement. Ghoul held her stance, arms tied behind her back, and held her glare. She wasn’t going to die looking like a coward.

“Only because I couldn’t defend myself.” Ghoul retorted with a sly smile as she looked back at Naeva with challenge. The only reason Ghoul followed her so diligently was because she didn’t have a way to try to pay her back for being her temporary punching bag.

“Shut the fuck up, traitor. You should be fucking dead but-.”

“Naeva” Delgado barked her name as a command for her to stop while she was ahead. His arms were crossed and he didn’t bother to turn Naeva’s direction. “Normally in your case, you wouldn't even be breathing right now. But you have options and you better think real carefully before you run that fucking mouth of yours. I’m not interested.”

Ghoul looked at him intently, curious or what these options could even be. She assumed dead right now or dead later but Delgado seemed to have that ambitious look in his eyes that made her want to hope there was something better.

“Are you listening? I am not going to make myself clear twice.” He demanded before proceeding with her ultimatum.

[burningvelvet]

okay more thoughts on pride and prejudice as i begin chapter 39

1 i want to see lady catherine, mrs. bennet, and miss bingley in the same room together on a podcast panel debating things like marriage and childrearing etc but i dont think the world would be able to handle it

2 i’m interpreting mr. darcy as either being neurodivergent (possibly autistic) and/or having severe social anxiety — and this is really informing my entire perspective of his character (as a core theme to his character is being socially understood/misunderstood). however, i know its still very controversial to “diagnose” fictional characters and i don’t want to come off that way — but historical complications aside (the field of psychology didn’t exist back then how it does now) it’s really obvious to see that he’s not neurotypical, although i don’t know if this is an accepted thing in the austen world though!

3 i’m not buying that mr. darcy’s letter was only 2 pages long. 3 pages minimum with tiny handwriting maybe.

4 this entire novel really highlights the importance of social communication more than anything imo

5 mr. collins is fucking hilarious and his interactions with elizabeth are so accurate/relatable of what it’s like to deal with oblivious men as a female, esp. men who dont know how to take a hint — i was actually laughing out loud through his entire proposal sequence, especially at the line where it says elizabeth is trying hard not to laugh too. so familiar.

6 i wish we could see more of charles i actually like him — i also like colonel fitzwilliam and kind of wanted him to marry elizabeth - its kind of hilarious how casual the topic of marriage is with people you’ve just met & i really want to read more about regency history on marriage specifically now to figure out how much is embellished for satire purposes & how much is true to life

7 i have many thoughts on wickham but thats for a separate post

8 from what little i’ve read about p&p analysis/consensus so far, it seems mrs bennet and some other characters have already been torn to shreds over lit history to the point that its become more common to defend them & mrs bennet in particular, which i understand bc she’s supposed to be a satire on women of the time period but of course her concerns are valid and there are real economic reasons for her actions and societal norms that pertain to them. i’ve also read that it’s common for people to prefer mr bennet over his wife and to pit them against each other which can lead into misogyny & i can see this. however (im sure the bennet family ends up happy at the end, but at this point in the story) i think there are valid reasons for these interpretations which lead people to like mr bennet more than mrs bennet. after the ordeal with collins i really lost respect for mrs bennet for threatening to disown eliza & treating her so harshly, and i gained respect for mr bennet for sticking by eliza. i continuously defended mrs bennet and her behavior up until the collins proposal. i understand she’s desperate for eliza to marry so that she doesn’t become destitute etc. but mr collins simply isnt an ideal husband

9 eliza’s feelings on her friend marrying collins are so sad and relatable of how all of us feel when we watch a friend or loved one enter a shitty relationship and/or betray themselves or lose a part of their personality + the idea of having to mourn your friend especially upon growing up etc. but particularly as it relates to the lonely woman’s experience of finding one’s friends starting to center males & prioritize romance over friendship the older you get.

hope some of this is semi-intelligible - i save the grammar for my real essays - but felt like rambling

i think in my last post i was spelling “bennet” as “bennett” so i apologize for that lol - pls dont kill me janeites, i’m new here!!!

[ohraicodoll]

Possession | Chapter 1

Chapters:  1/5 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne, Calliope, Mervyn Pumpkinhead Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Domestic Violence, Jealousy, Trauma Responses Tags: Complicated Relationships, General complicated feelings, Dream is an IDIOT, they both have baggage, Past Relationships, Angst, OFC: Dahlia,1st POV Summary: In which Morpheus has a temper, jealousy is a problem, and past relationships never stay in the past. 3rd in the Fragments Series  | Read on AO3 Writing Masterlist Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5  Previous in Series: Touch Starved Next in Series: Interwoven

CHAPTER 1:  Being Clever Never Got Me Very Far

( General warnings for this chapter: sexual content, toxic relationships, mentions of abuse)

Balancing the waking world and the Dreaming remained a challenge and one that Lord Morpheus wasn’t making any easier. Despite his admonishments about the negative impacts of Dream Walking on my everyday life, he had effectively shoved that under the rug now that he had me to himself every night. It was hard to focus on keeping up mundane things like a job and bills and friendships when at night you could travel anywhere and see anything plus had an immortal being driving you nuts in the best possible way. The vibrant colors of the waking world, revitalized by meeting Dream, had started to gray again and I was having to force myself to keep to normal sleeping hours and not waste the day away. The laundry was piling up, dishes needed to be done, and I needed to do something with myself. As much as I wished he would, I rarely saw Morpheus outside of dreams as he was still working on rebuilding his realm and attending to his duties. Occasionally, he would meet me at the café he’d surprised me at so long ago, both when I thought he was going to kill me and after our first time together. I had to get over my awkwardness at being the only one to eat, but he drank coffee and would tell me about the lives of the people that walked passed. He knew their dreams just by looking at them and in turn, knew their lives. My mind wandered to Lucienne’s library, to my small book kept there and its blank pages. Maybe that was part of his fascination with me, that he didn’t know my life. Everything was nice. It wasn’t healthy to be around each other 24/7 afterall and he had a job to do, same as me. Just on vastly different scales. Besides, he had no obligation to see me. We were casual lovers, or fuck buddies as I had deemed us crudely once, something he took offense to but didn’t necessarily argue against. He craved affection even if he didn’t say so with words. My need to be around him was just the newness of it, that constant pull to be next to him and touch him. It was a mutually beneficial relationship that lacked any sort of commitment. Dream of the Endless had seen all there was, had existed longer than most of the stars. It was hard not to be enraptured by that. So I forced myself to be good with what I got. It would fade and I would be able to be more productive, balance things better. I had begun to write again or attempt to, with Lucienne’s encouragement that my work was good. I had a lot of mental and emotional blocks when it came to writing, ones I didn’t want to get into yet, and I was grateful to have support both in the waking world and the Dreaming. More effort was put into my job at the book publisher, taking on more responsibilities in the hope that when I did have something decent I could show them. I even let Anissa, my coworker, take me to after work drinks though I suspect it was mostly an attempt to get me to spill the details on Morpheus or to get me to date one of our coworkers. She had been the one to encourage having some “fun” after my breakup and I was very bad at hiding that I had, in fact, followed that advice. Just not in the way she suspected. Things were okay. They were fine. But it was only a matter of time before our own hang ups would begin to surface. My life, my history, was unknown to him and I was a bit grateful. I’m not sure how I would feel if he knew everything about me and I knew hardly anything from him. It also meant he couldn’t see all the baggage there. We both had it. He had said he had had past relationships, obviously from being eons old, had told me about Killala that first talk while comparing cheating exes. Had bonded over mutual pain and disrespect. But beyond that, the details of our lives remained blank to each other. Stories and nothing more. I should have noticed when I saw maintenance go in and out of my neighbor Janine’s apartment that she had moved out. She had downright started avoiding me at all costs after I caught her in my bed with my then boyfriend, Thomas. The same boyfriend whose dream I then went into and broke one of the rules, smashing everything to bits and causing Morpheus to find me for the first time. I guess I should have thanked her for the introduction if she wasn’t a miserable hag. I’d seen her dreams, seen the countless escapades she had all the while knowing they were attached and she didn’t care. If she had wanted Thomas, she could have him. But now, I was mostly relieved that she was finally gone and I could walk through the hallway of my complex with ease. Coming home after work, my neck ached from stress and I towed off my shoes at the door, dropping my bag to the ground in a heap. Taking on more responsibilities at work meant my brain was mush by the time I made the walk home and it was a lesson in focus to not just daydream the day away. I had the whole weekend ahead though which meant I didn’t have to set an alarm and could stay in the Dreaming however long I wanted. It sounded divine after the stressful week I had. I was finally getting the hang of Dream Walking after a few more actual lessons from Morpheus, though he still loved to distract me. I was even getting better at doing it without using doors, even if my aim wasn’t always accurate and I had to bounce around a few times. If the dreamlord wasn’t with me, I still liked to imagine them because it was easier on my brain. Tonight I was going to explore more of the Dreaming beyond just Morpheus’ chambers and he could come along or mope on his own. A knock sounded at the door just as I was about to change out of my work dress, causing me to pause. No one ever came to visit. The number of friends I had could be counted on one hand, I had no family, and no one I knew made unexpected social calls. Frowning, I padded quietly over to the door and stood on my toes to look through the peephole at whoever was knocking. Maybe maintenance got the wrong door or something. You gotta be fucking kidding me. Thomas stood there, brown hair disheveled and button up shirt wrinkled. Even through the tiny window, he looked pathetic and I was almost certain it was on purpose. He liked to be prim and proper, even outside of work, unless he wanted something. The man had hardly ever had anything bad happen to him so he liked to play at being a victim whenever he could. It was mind boggling now, two months later, that I had stayed with him for over a year. “Then why did you stay with him?” Morpheus’ words bounced back in my head. Because he wasn’t the worst. Because he was interested in me. Because I was dumb and lonely and he made the world colorful at least for a bit. But even looking back now, that color paled in comparison to anything I felt now. I had blocked him from everything after waking up from his dream, the image of the King of Dreams sitting in the corner of an imagined bar after I had smashed everything to bits still fresh. Thomas had tried to reach out, though not very hard, but I ignored him and even when he showed up to my workplace, reception had shooed him away. It wouldn’t have surprised me if his attention had then turned to Janine and now that she was gone, most likely kicking him to the curb, here he was. I chewed on my lip, debating what I should do. Knocks reverberated through the door again, louder this time and I winced. “Dahlia, please, I know you’re in there,” his muffled voice shouted through the wood. I groaned inwardly. Fuck, if Matthew had been keeping an eye on him or me still then he at least could had warned me Thomas was coming. He knocked again and I knew my neighbors were going to get curious if he kept it up. “Dahl, please. Just hear me out!” Thomas shouted, a pathetic edge to his voice. I wanted to slam my head into the door, bemoaning my luck. Bracing myself, I sighed and unlocked the door, opening it only partly and blocking the view into the apartment. “What?” I bit out with pressed lips and annoyance painting my face. The guy looked worse closer up, shirt a mess and eyes a little bloodshot. He also reeked of booze which sent my body on high alert instantly. Anxiety and fear, old and familiar, sank into my bones. “Please,” he repeated, taking a step towards the door, “Can I come inside so we can talk?” “No,” I crossed my arms and leaned against the door jam, teeth clenched. My patience with him was thin and after time apart, my backbone had strengthened again. I had put up with a lot, hadn’t screamed or raged in his face when I had caught him naked in my bed. He was lucky that all I did was smash his dream, which I’m sure he had no recollection of. “Dahl-” “I’m sorry, you don’t get to ask for anything from me,” the growl that left my throat cut him off, eyes slightly wide at the tone, “You can say what you want to say here or I can shut the door in your face and you can leave.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He had never dealt with this side of me. Most arguments between us I had let slide, not feeling up to putting in the effort and letting him get his way. It was always easier than to fight, a lesson I had learned a long time ago. But it had fueled his ego and he thought me to be small and docile. That part I was willing to claim was my fault, but now- now I had teeth and I wasn’t afraid to bare them. “I’m sorry,” Thomas started, “What I did was selfish and awful and I am an asshole.” “A few months late, but so far not arguing against that,” I commented, glaring. “I miss you, Dahl,” he pressed on and stepped even closer, only a foot away now, “Please, I want us to work-” “No you don’t,” I cut him off. The indignation was plain on my face as I sneered at him, “You made your choice, Thomas. There is no working it out. You fucked another person in my home and are barely putting in the effort to apologize now? You’re not sorry, you just want me to be your safety net because you thought I was a pushover.” That barely concealed anger was in his eyes and he shoved a hand through his shaggy hair, “That’s not true. I love you-” “Oh get the fuck out of here with that bullshit,” I scoffed, finally fed up with wasting my time and hearing the crap pouring out of his mouth, I moved to shut the door. But his foot shot out, blocking the way, and before I could process it he had pushed into the apartment and shut the door behind him. The movement had been fast, calculated, and I cursed myself for even opening the door and not just calling security to kick him out. Even though he smelled of alcohol, his motor functions were still sharp and I should have made sure my guard stayed up. I knew better. Now my heart was hammering and I stepped back, putting space between us as he blocked the door. My mind tried to run through a dozen different scenarios, strategies, paths to either get him out or get away. There was pepper spray in my bag, I could run for it or the bedroom and lock myself in, under the couch was a baseball bat I kept just in case. He was drunk and could never take no for an answer and I should have been more aware. Thomas raised his hands like he was calming a riled horse, placating but voice desperate, “I only want to talk, you won’t let me talk! Please, you need to hear me out.” “I don’t have to do anything, Thomas,” my voice was steady but firm, one foot sliding behind me so I could pivot for the bedroom if I needed to, “You are going to get the fuck out of my apartment. Now.” “Stop, Dahlia, I want you back!” Though he was pleading, his hands clenched and unclenched and annoyance vibrated through him at my continual refusal, “I’m not leaving until you listen.” His eyes were wild and I knew he was on that edge of being reasonable or doing something we both may regret. Men like him didn’t consider consequences because they had never experienced them and that made him dangerous. I felt the slight breeze first before the ripple of power swelled over my skin, blanketing it and wrapping me in its first embrace while blazing through the room in hot fury. I didn’t have to turn to look behind me to know Morpheus was standing there, anger coming off him in waves and presence darkening the doorway. My breath caught in my throat. I had only ever felt his actual anger once, in the nightmare where we finally confronted each other. It had been all encompassing, those black eyes piercing right into my soul and stars bright enough it could burn me away. I watched hesitantly as a bit of fear entered Thomas’ eyes at last and though I knew I shouldn’t, I felt satisfaction at seeing it there. The Dream King entered the room from the bedroom where he definitely had not been a few minutes ago and stepped quietly next to me, hand brushing mine and long black coat grazing my legs from his proximity. Too close to be casual, definitely not after leaving my bedroom, and a clear outward sign of who he was to me. Thomas tried to hold his ground and kept his chin raised but I could see the tension there as he looked back and forth between us and took him in. The brown haired man didn’t stack up, could never compare. Morpheus was a storm at my side, voice quiet but powerful, “You will leave, Thomas McNara. Now.” I resisted the urge to look up at him, could easily feel the building anger he was holding back the longer my ex didn’t do as he commanded. He was dangerous, a volcano ready to devastate, and it was all targeted at one person. But Thomas was never the smartest and was too dumb to know when to back down. Brown eyes swiveling back to me, he scoffed and scrunched up his face incredulously, “Are you serious, Dahl? This is who you got with-” The one step forward the dreamlord took was enough to cut him off, the air growing thin in the room as Dream advanced and snarled, “Keep silent. You have ignored every word she has spoken, disrespected her, and entered her home uninvited. You are pitiful.” Morpheus glared down at him, blue eyes dark as he looked down his nose at the human whose bravado was crumpling by the second. Energy crackled and in that moment, even in the waking world, he looked every bit the ancient, powerful being that he was. Thomas could see it then, that he had drawn the attention of something that was far greater than he could ever imagine and had its ire. “I have seen your dreams, Thomas McNara,” the Lord of Dreams hissed and took another step towards him, “You treat women as toys and want what you cannot have. I assure you, she is not yours to possess and never will be again. Leave now and count yourself lucky I am being merciful for her sake for I could do far, far worse . ” Thomas’ brown eyes almost flicked to mine but he kept himself from looking at me, face pale with fear and sweat sliding down his temple. One step, then two, and he backed away to the apartment door and left, fumbling along the way and tripping out the door into the hallway. The door shut with a loud bang that echoed through the space. The tension didn’t immediately leave now that we were alone. Dream was a bow string pulled too tight, threatening to unleash at any moment. I swallowed hard and reminded my brain that the rage was in my defense and not directed at me. I didn’t have anything to fear from him, but I had never dealt with this kind of anger easily. I blinked and it was someone else standing in his stead, fists clenched tight and eyes drilling holes into my skin as if he could skin me alive with just a look. I blinked again and the image melted away, leaving just the King of Dreams standing with his back to me with his coat so black it looked like the abyss. Taking a few deep breaths, I grounded myself and focused on what was happening now, trying to forget the brief flash of memory. With a few steps, Dream’s coat was within reach and I gently trailed my fingers down his shoulder and arm until cool skin met mine. He didn’t react at first, hands hanging at his side, but I slowly intertwined one hand with his and gave it a squeeze as I rested my cheek against his shoulder blades. In a breath, the tension slowly seeped from him and I hugged him fully from behind, able to breathe easier as his power pulled back into him and the air cleared. “Are you okay?” I asked into his coat, hand in his and the other wrapped tightly around his waist from behind. He was so thin, but lean muscles tensed along his back and under my cheek. He was always the one to wrap himself around me, so the change in stance was new and one I enjoyed. A dark chuckle left him and I could feel the reverberations through his back, “Am I not supposed to ask you that instead?” I hugged him tighter and felt comforted when his free hand caressed my arm gently and he sank into the touch, “I’m okay, I’m safe, nothing happened. I haven’t ever seen him that…crazed, but he was just drunk. Even if you didn’t show up, I could have gotten him out. But thank you for coming to defend my honor, your highness.” I made my tone as light as possible, joking in the hopes he would come down from his anger if he saw that I wasn’t freaking out. I could practically hear the thoughts churning in his mind, replaying the situation over and over again, but at last, he relaxed. Keeping my hand in his, he turned to face me and pressed a kiss to the back of my hand. I could see it now, the remnants of whatever Thomas had seen and feared. Though his eyes were still blue, the endless night sky peaked there, fathomless and encompassing and terrifying. His skin had paled to that marble tone he had in the Dreaming, lips pressed in a thin line. He looked like a god, glorious and terrible. My heart raced as I took him in and I found it hard to swallow, knowing that this otherworldly creature held interest in me, had come to make sure I was safe. “She is not yours to possess.” The words echoed through me as I stared at him, a complicated feeling bouncing around. He noticed brow furrowing and a hand coming to rest on my cheek, elegant pianist fingers brushing my bangs from my eyes, “I can recognize when something is troubling you. What is it?” I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to think. Our relationship was…strange. Seeing an anthropomorphic personification came with zero rules unlike every other relationship I’d been in. There was no talking about what we were, boundaries, commitments. Exclusivity. We’d simply gone along with it, letting attraction and desire lead us, but feelings were avoided. Feelings were going to remain avoided, but him coming and stepping in. That had been something. I realized it then that it wasn’t fully rage he had been feeling or that had caused him to bare his teeth at Thomas. It was possessiveness. “You said-” I swallowed, trying not to choke on the words, “you said I wasn’t his to have.” Those blue eyes of his had settled, becoming more human-like, but I could see the flash of want and apprehension there, “Was I wrong?” Despite my trepidation, heat pooled low in my belly at the tone, “I don’t know, you tell me.” He stepped closer, chest pressed against mine and hand trailing down from my cheek to lightly wrap around my neck. My heart beat loudly in my ears and my body was tingling, sensitive to each touch of his skin on mine and shooting lightning down my nerve endings. Possessiveness had always been a double edged sword for me. Too much was toxic, restricting, frightening. Had destroyed me one suspicious look at a time and caused so much pain. But on the other hand, I wanted to be Dream’s. Wanted to know that I had been deemed worthy enough of the Lord of Dreams’ attention and not only that, that he wanted me all to himself. His head lowered, nose skimming along mine and breath mingling there, “While you are your own person, little dreamer, and are free to do as you wish, I will warn you- I do not share.” The words were low and dark and trailed along my skin like the edge of a feather, making me swallow a moan. “I give you this choice now, Dahlia Morrowland, ” Morpheus continued, my name whispered along my lips as he tilted my chin up to meet his eyes under lowered lids, baring the long expanse of my neck, “If you wish to have other lovers, we can end this game now. You are welcome in the Dreaming, in my palace, and I will not fault you. I will not deny you my presence… but if you wish for us to continue, I am afraid I will not be able to help myself. You will be mine and mine alone.” I shivered at the dark promise, breath catching in a way I’m sure he knew. My skin felt tight and hot and all I could focus on was the simple loose wrap of his fingers on my neck like he was branding me. His words rattled through me, setting flame the parts of me I wished for him to touch. I managed to swallow and meet his gaze, the heady want there reflected in my own, “I’m not ending this. And just so you know, I don’t share either. You are mine, dreamlord, if you wish to be.” He smirked, the slightest tilt of his lips, at the declaration before tightening his grip on my neck and pulling me to him, lips crushing. It was his own answer, his own agreement. Yes, yes, he did wish for that. My hand left his and wrapped around his neck as I stood on my toes to reach him, tongue delving into his mouth and moaning into him. His own caressed mine, sucking and teasing while completely devouring me. Dream in the waking world was different than in the Dreaming. He was tangible, real, made of true flesh, tasting of honey and mint, and smelling of early morning rain. And for the first time, he was in my apartment. He was mine. Mine. And I was his and it felt like too much and not enough all at once. The Dream King trailed his hands to my thighs and in a quick move, lifted me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried my weight easily. The hard press of his arousal was against me and I gasped into his mouth as he pushed me against the wall, back jolting at the contact. He deepened the kiss, ravenous and impatient. It was a frenzy of teeth and lips, his mouth leaving mine to kiss his way down my neck as his lips sucked at the pulse there. His teeth bit gently and I moaned, heat shooting through me sharp and sudden. The skin would be dark and apparent tomorrow, I knew that, but something deep and primal was pleased at the mark. Let them see. My fingers ran through his hair, dark and soft, and lightly grazed my long nails along his scalp until he moaned against me to my satisfaction. I had learned that he loved the feel of nails scratching, the sharpness against his skin, and his head was extra sensitive. He rocked against me and I hissed at the feel of him against me, separated my layers of clothing. I unwrapped my legs from his waist and braced myself, hands going to his jeans to get them unbuttoned and off of him. His own hands went to the hem of my dress, squeezing my exposed thighs and finding my drenched underwear. I moaned loudly as he cupped my sex, savoring the arousal wetting the fabric there. Running fingers up and down the thin covering, I gasped and twitched at how sensitive I was already. I was trembling, fingers shaking as I finally got his pants free and pulled the zipper down. We were getting impatient, the real world limitations meaning he couldn’t just magic our clothes away. With a quick jerk, he ripped the panties off easily, dropping the scrap of fabric to the floor as I lowered his jeans and freed his pulsing erection from them. “Excuse you. I liked those,” I growled at him. My hand wrapped around his cock, pleased with the way he jerked into my hand and hissed out a moan under his breath. His skin was the texture of velvet, soft to the touch but hard in my hand, and I savored each delicious stroke and ragged breath that left Morpheus’ mouth. My mind could only focus on the feeling of him and the words mine, mine mine over again. “You can easily acquire more later, though wearing none around me would be preferred,” the dreamlord gritted out, fingers in my hair and clenching my thigh tightly as I moved my hand over him steadily. I smirked, watching his eyes close against my ministrations, thumb rubbing the tip of his erection and sliding the precum there over him, “You going to buy me some with your fake money?” My palm squeezed him and a moan slid from his mouth, raw and wanting. He turned his head and his lips met mine in a frantic rush, tongue warring and fighting for dominance. Impatient, Dream pulled my hand off of him and gripped my thigh, lifting it around his waist and sheathing into me in one fast thrust. There was no foreplay, no slow build. The move was quick and hard, an edge of pain tingeing it at the feeling of him, large and buried to his base suddenly filling me. I was tight around him, each glorious inch filling me completely. The pain faded quickly though it only served to amplify the pleasure, as he pressed me firmly against the wall and fucked me hard. The angle was delectable, hitting the perfect spot inside me every time, and I couldn’t  stop the cries that poured from my lips as he pulled out almost fully then rammed back in. I could only hang on. He still wore his coat and shirt, both of us not even fully unclothed, and my nails dug into the fabric. Feeling the friction of his clothes against my sensitive skin heightened the pleasure while my own skirt was pushed up around my waist. He grunted with each desperate thrust, lips against my throat as he bit and sucked and tasted my skin. The brink of my orgasm was coming fast as I drowned in the rapture and ecstasy, body pulsing and clenching around him. He went harder, faster, pouring all his want and possessiveness into me. Each hard thrust branded my skin with the word mine , each kiss claiming, and each mark on my body a sign that I was with the King of Dreams and would be his alone. It should have scared me, having this type of attention from someone like him. It had scared me with lesser men. I had bucked and thrashed against the possessiveness before, had feared it, but with him I drank it down. Because even as he claimed me, he willingly let me claim him as well, offered himself up to me as equals. And so I wrapped my arms tight around him, rode the waves of my orgasm as it crashed into me and ripped his name from my mouth. Stars exploded behind my eyes, nebulas swarming, and I felt like I was floating in a storm I had no control of. He followed soon, giving a final hard thrust before releasing into me with a groan. His lips still lingered on my skin and sweat clung to both of us, the straps of my dress askew and his collar half upturned from my grabbing. We both looked completely and thoroughly fucked and at that thought, I couldn’t help but laugh. The reaction caused my body to clench around him and he grunted into my skin. Dream’s fingers soothed the skin of my thigh before helping me to lower it from his waist, both of us unable to keep from letting out a small groan as the movement shifted our sensitive bodies. It pleased me that I wasn’t the only one with a worn out body. His gaze met mine with a raised brow, skin now a warmer shade and eyes settled. I just grinned at him, wide and unrestrained, tongue between my teeth, “Hi.” With a quirk of his lips light-heartedly and something like affection gentling his face, he replied softly, “Hello.” I gave him a tender kiss, lips dragging against his and savoring their taste, before pulling back, “I guess we can cross off having sex for the first time in the waking world off the list. Along with wall sex. Very efficient work, your highness, good job.” Caught between amusement and confusion, furrowed his brow quizzically, “A list, little dreamer?” Giving a half-hearted shrug, I smiled up at him, “Less a list, more like ideas.” Morpheus’ eyes darkened and I could almost feel him hardening inside me. I knew then that I was doomed. Because there was nothing the Lord of Dreams liked more than a challenge and he was more than willing to make sure we thoroughly explored all those ideas of mine along with a few of his. The evening was spent in my apartment as he claimed me over and over again, worshiping every part of me and leaving no part of me unmarked. And I did the same in turn. I didn’t know what it meant fully as we didn’t discuss feelings or what being with each other meant, but I was okay with what I did know and what I was given. That would be something to think about later.

[moni-logues]

A Fine Line 3

Pairing: Namjoon x f!reader (ft. Hoseok)

Genre: roommates/enemies-to-lovers, non-idol!au

Word count: 5k

Summary: It’s time to rebuild your life. You’ve got a new job, a new apartment, and a future that might be bright. The only problem? Your new roommate.

Content: reader throws up

Huge thank you to M @here2bbtstrash for being an alpha beta 😂

Chapter Two | Masterlist | Chapter Four

3 – It’s Not Complicated 

You woke with the certainty that if you moved, you would definitely be sick. You could handle your alcohol but you absolutely could not handle the hangovers. You slowly turned your head, looking for the glass of water you always kept on your bedside table when you suddenly remembered you weren’t at home. This was not your bed. This was not your T-shirt. You groaned, the onslaught of mixed emotions making you wish you the hangover would just kill you already. You knew you had seen it clearly last night; you knew you had somehow got things figured out but now, in the nauseating throes of the consequences of your own actions, it eluded you.  

“Morning,” Hoseok said from the doorway, walking over to kneel next to you. He put a glass of water and a box of painkillers on the bedside table. “How are you feeling?” 

You squinted your eyes at him. 

“Why don’t you feel like this?” you asked him, your voice croaky, your mouth desert dry. He chuckled. 

“I’ve already taken some of these and drunk my bodyweight in water,” he laughed. “I have to work today, so couldn’t wallow in bed even if I wanted to.” 

Fuck. You knew that was his polite way of telling you to get the hell out of his apartment but you really didn’t want to spew over this poor guy’s bedsheets.  

“Thanks,” you said weakly. “I’ll get up in a sec; I just need my stomach to stop lurching.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, take as much time as you need. I have to go in a few minutes but you can stay as long as you like.”  

“What? But what if I steal from you? Or, I don’t know, vandalise your apartment?” 

“You literally can’t even lift your head up right now, so I’m not really worried about that,” he replied, laughing. “Here.” He placed a tablet against your lips and, when you took it into your mouth, lifted your head just enough so he could tip the glass and you could swallow it down. 

“How do I know you’re not trying to poison me or give me an overdose?”  

“Guess you don’t.” He winked at you and held the box in front of your face so you could see it was just ibuprofen. He stood. “I have to go. Help yourself to whatever; I’ve left my number for you in case you need anything.” With that, he left, and you sank back in the bed, desperately trying to go back to sleep, hopeful that if you woke up again in a few hours, your hangover would be a thing of the past.  

Your mind whirled, and not just because of the alcohol. Namjoon kept coming back to you and you thought about last night, a blush creeping its way up your neck. A pang of guilt hit you; Hoseok deserved better than you climaxing thinking of another man. You thought about the sex; you remembered your embarrassment and shame with a shudder but your lasting impression was one of clarity and freedom. It had been… incredible but it wasn’t about the pleasure he’d given you, the sounds he’d worked out of you or the sheer intensity of him inside you. It was also his straight-forward insistence that you both get what you want; it was the way he looked at you so openly and made you open up to him.  

You thought about what Lina had said and the way you felt as though Namjoon was constantly pushing himself into every part of your life, creeping into your mind, always unwelcome.  

And then you thought again. Because it wasn’t always unwelcome. You thought about the number of times you’d touched yourself to the thought of him and shame started to creep up on you but you forced it back. Was it shameful to want someone? Was it shameful that thinking about him now, even worse for wear as you were, was making you warm? You decided not. All the effort you’d been putting into suppressing your desire for him suddenly dissipated. Just because you wanted to fuck him didn’t mean he had to know about it. He couldn’t read your thoughts and, even if he could, so what? You were allowed to want it, weren’t you? Why not? It didn’t have to mean anything but you had been letting it unravel you all this time. Your heart raced and you suddenly felt desperate for fresh air.  

You made it to Hoseok’s kitchen sink, heaving the contents of your stomach into the clean, steel unit. The strong alcoholic fumes rising from your bile only made you gag further. You turned on the tap and put your mouth under it, drinking desperately. You immediately threw it back up again. You heaved and heaved until there was absolutely nothing left inside you and then you sank to the floor. Admittedly, that had made you feel better. You found your phone in your bag on the counter and checked for messages from Lina, not expecting any, but there they were. 

‘Please be safe.’  

‘If you need someone to come and get you, I can send Al.’ 

Your stomach flipped. She was so gracious and you had been so ungrateful.  

You unlocked your phone to type a reply to her but you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t agree that you’d thrown your heart at Namjoon when you met and you didn’t think you’d blown the roommate things out of proportion. You had been running from your desire for him, trying to disconnect yourself from it as if it was separate from you, a thing apart, a thing he was doing to you, not something that you were experiencing within yourself. She was right that you wanted to fuck him but she was wrong about the rest. You knew she was. But that didn’t mean you had been right.  

Taking a deep breath, you typed without thinking.  

‘Lina, I’m so sorry. I hope you got home ok. I shouldn’t have said those things to you; it was uncalled for and untrue. I’m grateful to have you as my friend and I’m sorry. Please forgive me.’ 

You wanted to tell her that you wanted to talk to her, that you had so much to tell her but you knew you couldn’t ask for that. Not now. Not yet. You clutched your phone, hoping she would respond immediately, knowing that she wouldn’t. You waited a few minutes, staring hard at your blank phone screen and then gave up. 

Next step was getting dressed and you crawled back to the bedroom, looking for your dress. Hoseok had folded it, and your soiled underwear, and placed it on the arm chair in the corner of the room. Beneath your clothes was a pair of jogging bottoms and a note. 

‘Wear these home if you want.’ 

You did want. Or at least, you didn’t want to have to go home in last night’s dress. As you slipped the trousers on, you felt as if you were slipping a little bit of Hoseok on, too. You wanted to take his attitude with you when you left his apartment.  

The air was surprisingly cold and the sky was bright as you stepped outside. You walked to the nearest corner shop and bought the first carbs you could find, not even waiting until you were out of the shop to shove them in your mouth. Having emptied your stomach, you were now ravenous. 

You wanted to walk home, but Hoseok hadn’t given you shoes and you only had your heels from the previous night. He had given you socks, so you had made the decision to go shoeless, carrying your heels in your hand. You couldn’t walk all the way home with no shoes and you honestly didn’t really want to spend that much time in public; you might not be in a mini dress at 10am on a Saturday morning but your outfit – and the clothes and shoes in your hand – still screamed ‘morning after’. You called a taxi and were back at your apartment all too quickly.  

You assumed Namjoon would be out or locked in his studio – either way, that you wouldn’t have to see him, but there he was, on the sofa as you walked in. When he looked up at you, you stopped in your tracks. He looked at your outfit and the dress in your hand. 

“Good night?” he asked, expression unreadable.  

What had felt so clear to you in Hoseok’s bed was suddenly muddy. You no longer felt undone by his eyes alone, but you still felt angry. It flared within you insistently as you looked back at him. What did he care? What business was it of his? You noticed the balled-up sheets of paper on the coffee table, obviously ripped from the notebook on his lap. You noticed the iced coffee sweating directly onto the coffee table with no coaster. You looked at the dress in your hand and Hoseok’s clothes on your body. Ok, so you wanted to fuck Namjoon, but that didn’t suddenly make him a good person. And it didn’t give him power over you. Sleeping with Hoseok, him taking you out of your head, had shown you that you had your own power; you didn’t have to concede anything to anyone, not if you didn’t want to.  

You looked back at him, still sitting quietly on the sofa, looking at you. 

“Fuck off, Namjoon”. Not waiting for his response, you walked straight into the bathroom and, stripping off Hoseok’s clothes, got under the shower.  

Namjoon was nowhere to be seen when you came out and you were grateful. You felt a huge weight had been taken off your shoulders and you knew that you’d at least be able to tolerate his presence without creaming yourself to death, but you still didn’t want him around. You didn’t respect him. You couldn’t respect someone who showed so little respect for their shared living space. If anything, you thought to yourself, taking ownership of how much you wanted to fuck him had made it so much clearer that you did hate him. The two weren’t mutually exclusive after all.  

You sat on your bed and held your phone. Lina still hadn’t replied.  

You: Thank you for last night. And this morning. Let me know how I can get your clothes back to you 

His reply was almost instant. 

Hoseok: My pleasure 😉 😉 glad you had fun. What are you doing on Tuesday? 

You grinned to yourself. What an excellent distraction he was going to be.  

Lina replied on Sunday and was, as ever, entirely too gracious. You met in a café, halfway between each of your houses. You were nervous. You needn’t have been. She appeared to have forgiven you entirely and you relayed the later events of Friday night in hushed tones, hoping not to broadcast all the most salacious details to everyone within earshot.  

She sighed when you finished and looked at you, almost expectantly. 

“That’s the conclusion you’ve come to?” she asked. “That you can want to fuck him and hate him at the same time and those are your true feelings?” 

You nodded. She looked uncertainly at you and chewed on her bottom lip. 

“Go on, Lina, you can say it. I promise I won’t be a cunt about it this time.” 

“You know that’s stupid, right? I don’t know how you think that’s any different from before.” 

“Because it is!” you cried. “Before, I hated him and refused to admit I wanted to fuck hi-” 

“You literally masturbated thinking about him!” Lina hissed quietly. “How could you do that and think that you didn’t want to sleep with him?!” 

“… I don’t know.” She had you there. “I don’t know; I was lying to myself, what can I say? My point is that he doesn’t have power over me anymore; he can’t affect me.” 

“So you don’t hate him?” 

“No, I still hate him.” 

“Isn’t that him having an effect on you?” 

“No.” It made perfect sense to you but Lina did not look convinced.  

“You were right, y/n, in that I don’t know a lot about this. I did get together with Al when we were young; he was my first boyfriend and now he’s my husband and I’ve never done all this sort of thing before-” 

“No, Lina, I didn’t mea-” 

“No, it’s fine,” she said, a little too sharply and you knew that your words still rankled, even if she had decided to forgive you. “You were not entirely wrong. I’ve never hate-fucked anyone; what do I know? But I’m just putting it out there that I don’t believe you and I still think this could blow up in your face. Especially if you’re going to get involved with someone else, too.” 

“I don’t think it’s like that with Hoseok,” you said, but you weren’t certain. You didn’t want to date him; you didn’t want a relationship or to get entangled in all those sorts of feelings, but you didn’t know how he felt about it. You wondered how you’d bring it up with him; if you felt differently from each other, that would definitely throw a spanner in the works.  

Lina raised her eyebrows at you as if giving you a warning.  

“I’ll clear things up with Hoseok, but I’m sure he doesn’t think it’s like that either. This is just going to be for fun.”  

“Do clear things up. Don’t run away with this and leave a trail of broken hearts in your wake, ok? I mean yours, too.”  

She was worrying over nothing, you were sure. You were full to the brim with confidence and vim and vigour. You felt light and that lightness carried you through the next few days. Where, previously, you had felt rage simmering under the surface almost constantly while you were at home, constantly on edge, unable to relax, seeing stress and red rags everywhere, you now felt like you were above it. He was around much more than he had been before, no longer always coming back from work in the small hours; you heard him moving around in his studio, music playing intermittently, most days. It meant that his mess increased, the visible signs of his life piling up around you. And they still made you angry. The anger was still there, every time you trod on another ear bud or had to do the dishes because he had managed to use every single plate and bowl in one day, but you felt like it couldn’t touch you. He couldn’t touch you. You were satisfied, smug even. Rather than compulsively trying to keep your own things in perfect order, you realised you could afford to be a little messy. It was your apartment, too, after all. Two could play at that game. You decided to take up as much space as you wanted.  

If Namjoon noticed the change, he didn’t say anything. At least not at first. Now that you weren’t hiding in your room so much, you realised that he wasn’t always holed up in his studio, either. He often sat on the sofa, notebook on his lap, laptop on the coffee table, writing. Or he sat stretched across the armchair, reading. Or he lounged, scrolling on his phone. Or he made a thousand coffees in the kitchen and cleaned up after none of them.  

He never brought up that Saturday morning when you told him to fuck off and you got the feeling that he was avoiding the issue. You didn’t speak much at all, not properly anyway. Emboldened by your new confidence, most of what you said to him was ‘can you move your shit?’ and ‘will you fucking turn it down?’. He rarely said anything in response, simply acquiescing to your request in silence. You noticed more than once the muscle in his jaw twitch as he got up to address the mess in question and he didn’t look at you, but he never said anything. You heard him some nights, on the phone in his bedroom, his voice suddenly lowering to a faint rumble; he sounded insistent, emphatic but you couldn’t make out any of his words. You wondered if he ever talked about you. Not that you cared. Obviously.  

It was early evening and you were in your bedroom, freshly showered, sitting on your bed and working up the energy to deal with your hair when he knocked at your door. You opened the door with a sigh. 

“I’ve got people coming over tonight,” he said simply.  

“Ok.” 

“I didn’t know if you’d want to move your… stuff before they got here.” He gestured to the airer in the living room, where your underwear was currently drying. You shrugged. 

“Do you want me to move it?” 

“Well, I don’t know. It’s not mine.” He seemed bewildered by your response. “It’s fine, I just thought you might not want it on display.” 

You shrugged again.  

“Ok…” He looked at a loss as he turned around and walked away from you shaking his head. As far as you were concerned, his friends weren’t your problem.  

You heard them arrive as you were plaiting your still-damp hair. You thought there were two, maybe three of them so you assumed they’d monopolise the living room. You thought about whether or not you’d let them. You decided you wanted a drink. 

You tied an elastic around the end of your second plait and went into the kitchen. 

“Hi,” one called from the sofa. You thought you recognised one of the others but couldn’t be sure. You looked at them all and then away, carrying on to the fridge. Silence fell as you grabbed a can from the fridge and then a glass from the cupboard. You took your time putting ice in the glass, then decanting the can, pausing to let the bubbles subside before topping up. You raised your glass at them as you walked back to your room, but didn’t turn in their direction. As soon as you were back in your room, you could hear hissed whispering. You took a triumphant sip of the drink that, truthfully, you didn’t really even want. You just wanted to prove a point.  

It was Thursday. Your previously precious Thursdays had become a distant memory. Something in Namjoon’s work schedule had changed and, not only did it keep him around more, it meant he was always in on a Thursday. But he bothered you less than he used to anyway so you could cope without them.  

In fact, on this particular Thursday, you didn’t even really feel like cooking. As you took off your shoes and hung up your bag, you noticed that there was a Tupperware container of your leftovers on the counter, steaming nicely, just re-heated. You took a spoon from the drawer, and not even bothering to sit down, tucked right in, standing in the kitchen. Namjoon’s studio door opened and he stopped with a start as he saw you. 

“Wha-. What a-… Is that my food?” he asked, the barest hint of incredulity in his tone.  

You raised your eyebrows. 

“Your food? I don’t think so.” 

“I just got that out. I was going to eat that. That is my foo-” 

“Is it, Namjoon? Is it really? Did you cook it? Did you buy any of the ingredients? Did you participate in any way in this meal actually being made? Like fuck you did. Everything in that fridge is mine and has been since I moved in here.” 

He looked at you, bewildered for a second. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

You were a little surprised by the outburst but not displeased. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Have I done something to you or something? You’ve really been… Recently, you’re like…” 

“Feel free to finish any one of those sentences, Namjoon.” 

“That is what I’m talking about! Why are you being so… such a dick?! I haven’t done anything to you!” 

You put the food back on the counter and looked at him.  

“No, I suppose you’re right. You really haven’t done anything, have you? Not even things you should have done, not even things I’ve specifically asked you to do. You don’t seem to do anything that every other grown adult on the planet seems to be able to do.” You gestured broadly at the entire room and then, dipping quickly, thrust your hand into the washing machine, crossing your fingers.  

Bingo, damp clothes. You grabbed whatever you first touched and lifted it up to him.   

“Yours?” you asked.  

He looked taken aback again and you felt like you’d got him on the back foot. 

“Yeah, so?” 

“And how long has it been in there, Namjoon?” 

“I don-… Why do you care? They’re my clothes; what difference does it make to you?” 

You ignored him and opened the fridge. 

“How much of this are you responsible for?” you asked.   

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Of course, you don’t. My point is, Namjoon, did you buy anything that’s in here? Do you remember to buy milk when it runs out? Do you make meals and save the leftovers for later? Or is that me?” 

“Well, I guess, you.” 

“Right and who eats it all, Namjoon?” You placed heavy emphasis on his name, just in case he wanted to miss the point.  

“So, this is about your food? You said I could eat it!” 

That shocked you. 

“When the fuck did I say that?” 

“When you moved in! You left it in the fridge and said I could help myself!” 

You groaned and rolled your eyes. 

“And you thought that was an open invitation for the rest of time to just eat whatever you wanted? It was my first night here! I was trying to be nice; I wanted you to like me!” 

He scoffed. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, have you got something to say?” 

“Well, you clearly don’t care about that anymore! You haven’t said one nice thing to me since-… I… I don’t even know when! The only time you ever say anything to me at all recently is to be rude.” 

“It’s not as if we’re friends-” 

“And whose fault is that?! I’ve tried to talk to you and you just brush me off! I’ve tried and you just fucking ignore me!”  

You stared at him hard, what planet was he living on? This was by far the longest conversation you’d ever had so whatever he considered trying to be your friend must have fallen pretty wide of the mark.  

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

He groaned and he turned away then back again, holding his arms out in question. 

“Look, fine, I figured when you moved in that you didn’t really want to be friends; you kept to yourself and that was fine, but now you’ve really turned into a-” 

He faltered for a second and you raised your eyebrows at him in challenge. 

“You’ve turned into a real bitch. I’ve been trying to stay out of your way-” 

You scoffed at that, given that the entire apartment was full of him getting in your way. He ignored you. 

“-but now it’s like you’re deliberately going out of your way to start an argument. I don’t know what you want from me.” 

“I want you to fucking grow up and take some responsibility! I’m not your fucking mother, Namjoon; did she never teach you any manners? Did she not teach you clean up after yourself? I have to say, it seems like she did a pretty piss-poor job raising you to me.” 

His face fell and his eyes darkened. You saw that muscle in his jaw twitch and he clenched and unclenched his fists.  

“Don’t talk about my mother.”  

“Or what? You’ll give me some more evidence that she raised you badly?”  

You knew you’d hit a nerve and it thrilled you. You could see his jaw clenched, his teeth gritted tight together. His chest rose and fell heavily. He took a step towards you and then seemed to change his mind. 

“Don’t talk about my mother,” he repeated and then he turned and walked back into his studio, his whole body stiff and tense. The door slammed.  

You looked at the leftovers on the counter and didn’t really fancy them anymore. You scraped them into the bin and chucked the tub in the sink. You were exhilarated; it felt so good to finally challenge him, to test your mettle and find you could win. You pulled out your phone. 

You: Busy? 

Hoseok: Want to come over? 

You: Want to get some food first? 

Hoseok: 😋 😋 😋! 

You met Hoseok outside the restaurant he suggested, just around the corner from his apartment. You had seen him semi-regularly since that first Friday, though this would be the first time outside his four walls. You hadn’t spoken to him – as you assured Lina you would – about the exact parameters of your… whatever it was. The fact that this was the first time you were seeing him for something other than sex told you what you needed to know. He clearly wasn’t interested in actually dating you, nor you him. This was just a casual arrangement that suited you both. He seemed to be the busiest man in the world but somehow always had time for you. He made you feel good and not just because of the sex… though that was pretty good, too. 

You saw him leaning against the wall as you walked up and he hugged you when you approached. 

“Ah, y/n! Wasn’t sure I’d recognise you with your clothes on,” he said in greeting. You shoved him. 

“I could say the same to you!” 

It was nice spending time with Hoseok like this. You weren’t always all business; you sometimes stayed over and you would talk and listen to music or fall asleep to films, but it was always an addendum to the sex. It was different this time. He was clearly well-known at this restaurant and well-liked; you struggled to think of reasons someone wouldn’t like him, actually. Kind, affable, deeply sexy… You wondered briefly if you should want to date him. He seemed to have it all. Then Namjoon appeared in your head.  

“Fuck off,” you growled under your breath. 

“What?” Hoseok asked, eyes wide. 

“What? Oh, not you, sorry, I wasn’t saying anything, carry on.” 

You doubled your efforts to pay attention to Hoseok and Hoseok alone. You had told him about Namjoon – or at least, about some of it. You did not tell him about how much you wanted to fuck Namjoon or that, the first time the two of you had had sex, you had come to the image of Namjoon in his underwear. You also smoothed over the recent parts where your behaviour had been less than exemplary. Of course, you knew your behaviour was bad but you couldn’t stop yourself. It was as if Namjoon brought out the worst in you and, whenever you saw him or thought of him, rather than getting desperately and embarrassingly hot, you were overcome with the desire to rile him up, to see him undone. But you didn’t tell Hoseok that. As far as Hoseok knew, he was your annoying roommate and that was it.  

You walked together to Hoseok’s apartment, stuffed full of Italian food, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. Suddenly, you worried that he had thought this was a date. What if you had read the signs all wrong? What even were the signs to look out for? A streak of panic ran through you. You waited for him to remove his arm, to let you go, but he rested his cheek against your head for a moment and your certainty started to slip away. If there was one thing that your time with him was teaching you, it was that you had to start facing things head on, rather than ignoring them and hoping they went away. So, you took a deep breath. 

“Um, do you want to date me?” you asked. 

He pulled away slightly. 

“Is that an offer or a question?” 

“Question.” 

“Oh, then, no.” 

“Ok, so what if it was an offer?” 

He looked at you carefully. 

“I’m not offering,” you clarified. “But that was a very quick no…” You pouted; you might not have wanted to date him either but it still slightly stung. Hoseok laughed.  

“I like you, y/n; we have fun and I’m happy having fun with you, but I don’t really want to get involved with all…” He gestured, at a loss for how to phrase it. “You have stuff going on and I don’t want to get messed up in that.” 

You stopped in your tracks and he carried on. What was he talking about? What did he know? 

“What do you mean?” Scurrying to catch him, you tugged on his sleeve. “What have I got going on?” 

He looked meaningfully at you, but you couldn’t work out what he was driving at.  

“Hoseok! What?”  

He sighed and rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Do you want to date me?” he asked. 

“No-” 

“Well then! It’s all settled. I don’t want to date you and you don’t want to date me. Do you want to come up?” 

You realised you had made it to his building. You tutted dramatically. 

“Obviously.” 

Chapter Two | Masterlist | Chapter Four

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Twenty Seven

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: 5,400

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God, it was awkward.

Eva nursed a glass of tequila, her second of the day and it was only ten in the morning. For two hours, she had been sitting there listening to Josh and Alexei argue. They spit point after point at one another, neither of them gaining any ground. Eva hadn’t said a word and was fairly sure that the two men forgot she was even sitting there.

She could have slept in.

“Its two weeks. We can do a lot with two weeks.”

“We could have two months and we wouldn’t be able to hide the mountain of evidence.”

“You’re underestimating us both, Alexei.”

“I’m being rational. Something you’ve failed to achieve lately.”

“I have been perfectly rational. The plan is solid.”

“The plan hinges on getting leverage over a man who has been one step ahead of us the whole time.”

A scoff. A roll of the eyes.

This went on in varying circular parries until Eva ran out of tequila and got up to pour another. On her way back to the couch, Josh finally remembered she was in the room.

“Eva, back me up.”

She looked between the two of them, “I don’t know how you think you’re going to get Diego to give you the contact for his supplier. He hasn’t budged on anything you’ve thrown at him so far.”

Alexei was smug, “See?”

Josh held up a finger, “That’s because I hadn’t perfected my technique. I’ve made improvements since then.”

“You mean since he tossed Eva aside like day old garbage?”

“Hey!” Eva cut in, offended.

Alexei shrugged, “Its true. You’ve tried to tempt him twice already. What makes you think he’ll take the next round of bait?”

Josh smiled, “Third times the charm.”

“Oh, please!” Alexei groaned, “This is not the time to play games.”

Eva tipped back her glass and emptied it. She went to pour another only to be sidelined by Josh. He snatched the glass from her and went around the bar to pour what looked like seltzer. She frowned at him, but took the drink and went back to her spot on the couch.

“I’m not playing games,” Josh snipped at Alexei, “I have it on good authority that Diego beat the ever loving shit out of someone that night.”

The seltzer she was sipping had a faint hint of salt in it. She thought about tossing it out, but didn’t want to instigate further ranting from Josh. He was in rare form. All his swagger, all his smooth congeniality was stripped back. It left him red faced and sweating, disheveled in a way that he would normally never allow.

Whose ass did Horacio kick that night? Eva tried to remember if his knuckles were bruised when he met her at the church. Her mind supplied an image of him sitting in the confessional, legs spread comfortably and not a hair out of place. It was a fair difference from what he looked like later, in the car.

Hair mussed. Breathing hard.

“Which authority?” Alexei demanded, “Who?”

Josh shrugged, “I have my sources.”

“Fuck your sources,” Alexei bit out, “We have an emergency on our hands. You have been hiding things from me for months and I am tired. I want to know everything you know and I want to know it now.”

Her husband rolled his eyes and leaned against the bar, “You’re getting soft, Alexei.”

Within one heartbeat and the next, Alexei had Josh snatched up by the collar and was speaking directly into his face in Russian. Eva understood absolutely none of it. What she did understand was the fear that slowly dragged across Josh’s face. The threat—it had to be a threat—was remarkably effective.

“I pay one of his security guys to let me know what he’s doing. The meetings he takes. Anything they can tell me,” Josh said.

The hair on her neck and arms rose in cold fear. Had Josh’s inside man been watching? Had they seen her with Horacio?

“He’s slippery,” Josh continued, “and secretive. But, my guy managed to get inside after we lost that shipment. Someone put it on the table that we might be playing with them and that we might not play with them if they had a little collateral.”

He nodded subtly towards Eva. She stilled, made her face remain neutral so as to give nothing away.

Alexei’s fists clenched, “And?”

Josh shrugged, “Diego cut it down. Said anyone who touched ‘the wife’ would lose a hand.”

Eva’s brain made a kind of ‘huh’ sound while she tried not to smile.

Letting go of Josh, Alexei wiped a hand across his face, “That’s what you’re basing this on?”

“Oh, come on,” Josh exclaimed with a wide sweep of his hand, “You’ve seen how he looks at her. He’s even threatened to kidnap her. Twice. Clearly, he’s got a thing for Birdie—although I can’t understand why.”

She sighed, irritated that he could still get that old barb in even after everything that had happened. It didn’t really matter that he was right—Horacio did have a thing for her. What mattered was that Josh thought he was right and nothing Alexei could say could convince him otherwise.

“Alright,” Alexei relented, “Why does it matter? We can get leverage another way.”

“It matters,” Josh enunciated, “because he pretends he doesn’t—scoffs at the idea, even. That fucking Mexican thinks he’s better than me. I won’t have it.”

Alexei covered his face with his hands and took a slow breath. Then, “Josh, we have bigger things to worry about than your ego.”

No shit, Eva thought while she silently sipped at the seltzer.

“That’s the beauty of it,” Josh asserted with light blooming in his eyes, “I can get what I need from Diego and knock him off his high horse. Its a two-for.”

Jesus Christ.

Dropping his hands to his hips, Alexei shook his head, “I’m going to go clean house. You stay here and play your little games, if you want. See how far that gets you.”

Eva watched Josh watch his best friend walk out of the room and almost felt sorry for him. He looked like a kicked puppy, floppy ears and all. Alexei was right, though. Josh was playing games that were going to get him into a hell of a lot of trouble. Even if he knew all the rules, his opponent had an ace up his sleeve and a stacked deck.

Josh straightened his collar and smoothed the fabric of his shirt. He briefly fiddled with the ring on his pinky. Then, he squared his shoulders and went to the bar to pour a drink into the family crystal. Bourbon in hand, he schooled his expression and visibly calmed himself.

“What time is it?”

Eva blinked, “What?”

“The time,” Josh demanded.

She glanced at the clock, “Ten thirty.”

“Good. Go put on a dress.”

“Are we going somewhere?”

He shook his head, “No. We’ll stay right here and wait for Diego.”

Eva flinched, “Why is Mr. Jimenez coming here?”

“Quit asking such stupid questions and go put on a fucking dress!”

She set her glass down and went upstairs.

In her closet, Eva went over the options. Knowing that Horacio was coming over made her decide against the more modest selections. It would play right into Josh’s hands, but Eva wanted to be noticed. Not just by Horacio, but by the man he was pretending to be.

Her hands stalled on a Bob Mackie halter dress in a shining teal.

Perfect.

Dress on and hair fluffed, Eva padded back downstairs in her bare feet. She entered The Lounge and took four steps into the room. Josh looked at her and gave a nod. Outfit approved.

As she passed him, he held out another seltzer water, “I need you sober.”

Eva’s mouth turned down, but she took the glass and sat on the couch. She would sip at it often enough to keep him happy, but no amount of rationing the water was going to keep her buzz going. She could feel it fading away with every ticking second and resented Josh for it all the more.

It was the acrid burn of that resentment that made Eva speak, “Alexei’s right, Josh. This isn’t going to work. He’s not interested in trading sex with me for information.”

“He is.”

“Maybe he just has a,” she searched for the word, “moral code, or something. Like, no women or children.”

Josh rolled his eyes and pulled out a pill bottle, “No man with his kind of reputation has a moral code.”

“I’m just saying that you’ve tried this twice already and it hasn’t worked. I think you need to consider that you might be wrong and its a waste of time.” A breath, “We have serious problems that we need to take care of right now.”

“You don’t think I know that?” he yelled, “You don’t think I know that we’ve got federal fucking agents just waiting for the green light to dig through my entire business, a business that I’ve worked my whole life to build?”

Eva was silent, but held his stare. She wasn’t bothered by the explosion of anger or the way he gripped the glass in his hand hard enough that it might shatter.

“I’ve got the formula and once we get the supplier, we can hold the entire fucking country hostage if we want.”

This did scare her.

Josh had an ego the size of the entire state of Louisiana, but he was usually smart enough to know when he needed to take a step back and be strategic. Ardent Pharmaceuticals wouldn’t be anywhere near as big as it was, if he didn’t. She didn’t understand where this recklessness had come from, but it was driving the path of his decision making right off a cliff.

“You’re not going to get far enough into manufacturing if you’re in jail, Josh.”

He scoffed and swallowed down the pill in his hand, “This whole thing will be held up in court for years. By the time it goes to jury trial, we’ll already be out of reach.”

Her brows drew together, “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he answered, “that I’m moving our production out of the country.”

Eva repeated the last four words slowly, her brain trying to figure out his meaning.

Josh held out his hands, palm up, “Why work so hard to get product across the border when I can build a factory right next door.”

“Next door?”

“In Mexico, Eva.”

Mexico.

Josh thought the product was coming from Mexico—because he thought Diego was from Mexico. Eva hoped she was there when he got punched in the face with the truth.

“What about all your other plans?” she asked, “The house? The renovations? We already paid the deposit for the contractors.”

He shrugged, “We’ll sell it.”

We’ll sell it.

Her home. He would sell it. Just like that.

Eva took a long drink from her glass to keep the venom on her tongue at bay, “Alright. What’s this new plan you have? Tell me how you’re going to get Diego to give you what you want.”

“Same plan as last time.”

“You mean the plan that didn’t work.”

“Okay, the same plan as the time before that.”

“So, the plan that also didn’t work.”

Josh’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “I told you, already. I perfected my technique.”

She didn’t give a fuck what he perfected.

“No.”

Eva was not going to go through that again. He thought the serum was safe before he injected it and it led to her passing out three feet from where she sat. She wasn’t going to allow him to put more poison into her veins.

“No?”

“No,” Eva repeated, “I’m not doing it. You can go get one of your mistresses to go along with your plan, but I won’t.”

She didn’t know if she had ever directly refused one of Josh’s requests—she certainly hadn’t with near as much ice in her tone. Her words made him draw back, incredulous.

“The fuck do you mean, no?”

“I mean no,” she said as she stood and set her glass on the coffee table. “Do whatever you want, but leave me out of it.”

Josh lifted a brow, “Its a bit late for that.”

“What?”

“I. Perfected. My. Technique,” he bit out, “We ran more tests. Injecting the serum causes the body to metabolize it too quickly, so we slowed it down by changing the route of administration. Ingesting it works much better.”

Eva crossed her arms, “I’m not taking any pills.”

That seemed to perk him up, “See, we thought about that, too. Turns out pills metabolize too slowly. We found that the best way to administer is sublingual.”

“Doesn’t change anything,” she shot back, “I’m not taking it.”

“Oh, Birdie,” he drawled, “You already have.”

Eva didn’t understand—anything. She didn’t understand why route of administration mattered, or the creepy smile on his face, or why he was looking at her like that.

Josh ran out of patience, “For as smart as you are, you are so dumb.”

“Oh, shove it up your ass!”

He set his bourbon casually on the bar and walked up to her, “It doesn’t matter what you say you will or won’t do because you’ve already done it. You’ve been drinking the serum for the last half hour.”

Eva was horrified—physically paralyzed by the feeling.

Josh grasped her shoulders, “It was diluted, but I compensated with a stronger dose. You’re already feeling the effects and you didn’t even notice.”

She was going to kill him. Beat him to death with her bare hands.

Flying forward, Eva nearly knocked Josh off his feet with the force of her attack. She might have screamed, but her ears were filled with adrenaline and the roar of blood. Eva knew she caught him off guard because she got a couple good hits in before he was able to grab her arms and push her away. She stumbled, regained her footing, and went at him again.

Josh shoved her hard enough that she knocked into the wall near the door. He slapped away her fists and curled both hands around her neck. The pressure cut off her air, but Eva had so much fury raging inside her that she started scratching and kicking. Short, blunt nails dug into his face and arms for about thirty seconds before her lungs began to burn.

It was only when she stopped fighting that he loosened his hold so that she could breathe. Eva gasped and choked until the spots in her vision cleared. Then, because she still pretty pissed off, she cast Josh a baleful glare.

“If you ever,” he punctuated the last word by slamming her head against the wall, “do that again. I’ll knock you into next week. Clear?” When she didn’t answer fast enough, he choked her again and leaned close, “Clear?”

Her nod was limited by the hands that hadn’t stopped squeezing.

“If you’re going to make me come to a meeting at this unholy hour, you should at least answer your—,” Horacio came strolling down the hall. He stopped in front of the door, “Should I come back later?”

Josh sniffed, “No. We were just having a disagreement. But, I think its cleared up now, right?”

She fucking hated that he sounded so calm, even with scratches marring his face. Eva’s jaw was clenched, but she nodded.

“See? All better.”

He let her go and Eva had to lean against the wall so that she didn’t crumple to the floor.   Smoothing his hand down his shirt, Josh invited Horacio further into the room. Dark eyes glanced at Eva, but said nothing as he passed by. Behind him, Javier was less subtle about his distaste. His curled lip had to be wiped away by a palm moving across his face.

Eva stood there for a while, listening to the pleasantries. She thought she might be able to get away with standing there all afternoon, but Josh called her name. She glared at him and he glared back.

The battle of wills was short lived, “Don’t be rude, Birdie.”

She took her time walking around the back of the couch and sitting.

“Please,” Josh said, inviting Horacio to take a seat on the opposite side of the couch Eva was currently sitting on.

Horacio sat with an easy movement. On the surface, he looked utterly undisturbed by the clear tension in the room.

Javier demurred, preferring to remain near the bar. He poured a drink for himself and settled in to observe from a distance.

Relaxing into the cushions, Horacio asked, “What do you want?”

“Right to the point,” Josh replied with a smile, “I like that.” Then, “I have another proposition for you.”

Horacio made a sound of interest and motioned with his hand for Josh to continue.

Josh leaned forward, “I’ve perfected the serum. Its ready for market.”

“I’ve heard this before.”

“I thought you might say that, so I have, once again, enlisted my lovely wife to act as a demonstration.”

Eva rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, looking anywhere but at the men in the room. She felt Horacio stare at her from two cushions over. He was quiet, possibly waiting for her to do or say something. She was too angry to give him the satisfaction.

“You must not care much for your wife’s life,” he commented, with levity. “The last demonstration went...bad.”

Josh’s laugh was like glass in her ears, “Yes. I admit I got a bit over my skis last time. But, we’ve done more tests and this batch is perfectly safe.”

More silence.

“When will we see the effects?”

During her sullen silence, the pounding in her head receded. Eva would have been grateful if another, more pressing pain wasn’t becoming apparent. Her belly cramped, tugged downwards. Her mouth went dry, her tongue felt heavy. Goosebumps appeared on her arms and chest.

She crossed her legs to relieve the discomfort of her swelling arousal. Unwelcome as it was, it only exacerbated her anger. The two feelings became entwined. They fed on one another, coiling tighter and tighter until a tremor washed over her whole body.

And, above all, she smelled him.

Tobacco. Vetiver. Alpha. Horacio.

Eva didn’t know how long she had been taking deep gulps of air, but she felt like she could taste him all the way down into her bones. She knew she wasn’t going to keep herself from him, was frustrated that she might give Josh exactly what he wanted. A soft whimper left her lips as she bent forward at the waist and buried her head in her hands.

“Is it supposed to make her cry?”

Eva lifted a hand and flipped him the bird.

His laugh made the muscles of her thighs clench together and a fresh wave of heat roll through her. Eva rocked back into the couch and stared at the ceiling, willing herself to remain still. Every instinct she had was telling her that her alpha was right there and he would take care of her. All the need swirling around in her core could be stoked to a raging storm that she knew would devour them both.

“I’d like to take a sample to test for myself,” Horacio said in a matter of fact tone.

“Of course!” Josh replied, “I have some in my safe. Let me go get that for you.”

Knowing that she had a very small window to communicate with Horacio away from her husband, Eva tracked him through the room and waited until the tell tale creak of the second stair to start talking.

“He knows about the warrant. Alexei is working to hide the evidence,” she blurted in a low voice. “There’s a woman in your building named Bobbi Lynn who has papers to get me out of the country.” Eva looked at Horacio, “I know you told me not to make moves, but you have to understand that Josh—.”

He leaned over and touched her arm, “Slow down. Are you okay?”

“No,” she rasped, “How could you think—?”

“Yes, I know,” he cut her off again with a sneer, “If I shoot him, we lose our whole case.”

Eva nodded woodenly, “He’s got someone on the inside who has been feeding him information about you. I don’t know who.”

“I know,” he repeated. Then, “Is he planning on trying to get my supplier by…”

He trailed off, but she knew what he meant.

“Yes.”

A low, rumbling growl sounded from his chest. Eva stared at him, waiting for whatever reaction she was going to get. She should have expected what came next.

“Do you remember what I said about making him regret it?”

God, but she did. Eva remembered very clearly what Horacio said he would do. Unable to form words around the anticipation that swelled in her chest, she nodded.

“Any objections?”

“Not a fucking one.”

One side of his mouth lifted. He was pleased. The thought, my Alpha is pleased, went through her head and Eva didn’t even try to fight it. She stared at him, taking in the warmth of his eyes and the plush mouth that she desperately wanted to kiss.

“We can’t kill him,” Javier intoned from the bar.

Horacio, still staring at Eva, replied, “I don’t plan to.”

“Well, I might,” Javier shot back, “He’s fucking annoying.”

Eva smirked and tossed over her shoulder, “Try living with him.”

“You’re a saint.”

The second stair creaked again.

Tearing her eyes from Horacio was difficult. She only managed it by digging her nails hard into her palm. In her periphery, she could see that Horacio wasn’t even trying to pretend he wasn’t thinking about dragging her across the couch and into his lap.

Josh swung around the edge of the couch, all smiles, “Here we are!”

A small, air tight bottle was placed on the coffee table. It was unlabeled and looked like something she might pick up at the grocery. Not a single person outside of the four of them would ever know the danger that lay inside.

“Best to put it under the tongue,” Josh offered as he sat on the couch opposite of Horacio.

Or mixed into a drink, Eva thought venomously.

Javier pushed from the bar and walked over to pluck the bottle from the table. He pocketed it and resumed his position. A quiet, vaguely irritated, guard.

“What is your proposition?” Horacio asked, despite knowing full well what Josh wanted.

“I have enough of that serum to make about half a million dollars within the first thirty days of sale,” Josh began. “I’ll give you fifteen percent if you’ll set up a meeting between myself and the man who helps you source your raw material.”

Horacio tossed his head and laughed, “Fifteen percent is not enough for that.”

“With respect,” Josh said, “its a lot of money.”

“It will destroy my future returns. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re aiming for.”

Eva tuned out while they argued back and forth. The Lounge around her became blurry—no, it was her periphery. Eva’s eyes could only focus on a radius of about three feet. Everything else contracted down to the burn of heat and the pull of the man sitting too far away.

“I think your wife is going to have another seizure,” Javier muttered.

She realized that she was rocking back and forth, trying to get any kind of stimulation that would soothe her frazzled nerves. Her hands were twisting together, palms rubbing harshly. Every breath was audible.

“That’s normal,” Josh said with a careless wave of his hand, “between stage one and two.”

Horacio turned his attention to her, “Doesn’t look like a heat, Doctor Moore.”

Josh hummed, “It will. In a minute or two.”

It was going to get worse?

Eva already felt awash with not enough and too much sensation. Her pussy was dripping and no amount of pressure would satisfy the emptiness that wanted to be filled. Every inch of her felt fever hot. Sweat formed in the hollow of her throat and the crease of her hips.

Beside her, Horacio was dubious, “You think this is going to fool an alpha?”

Josh, ever the asshole, laughed, “I do, indeed, Mr. Jimenez.” Then, “Why don’t you go one and get a good smell of her?”

She heard Horacio suck his teeth derisively, “I can smell her from here.”

Could he?

Could he smell all the hormones races through her bloodstream? The slick coating the inside of her thighs? Could he sense the sheer force of will Eva was exerting to keep the heat at bay?

“Nah,” Josh drawled, “Get in close. I’m telling you she’ll smell like the real thing.”

Unable to help it, Eva chanced a look at Horacio. He was studying her closely. The hand on his thigh flexed and he ran his thumb up the length of his finger in thought. Eva knew the feeling of that hand. Knew what he could do with it.

She shivered.

“Either you do it, or I will,” Javier grunted.

The sound of liquor pouring was loud in the silence. Horacio took the time to cut a glance at his partner before he swiveled towards her.

“Come here,” he ordered in a low voice.

Eva obeyed. Biting her lip hard, she closed the distance between them until their knees were touching. Horacio reached out and pushed her hair back away from her neck with one hand. The other grasped her jaw to turn her head.

She flinched. Sucked in a pained breath as her body remembered Josh’s hands around her neck.

“Lo siento,” he whispered, fingers loosening to rest carefully against bruised skin.

Horacio leaned in close. She shuddered as she was surrounded by his scent, had to ground herself by wrapping her fingers around his wrist. His cheek brushed hers and heat bloomed from the contact.

Eva closed her eyes against the beginning of defeat. His inhale was deep and it was followed by an almost inaudible groan. She turned her face and pressed her cheek against his, enjoying the way the five o’ clock shadow scratched. Her mouth ran down his jaw so that she could catch his lips.

The kiss would have been fucking amazing if Josh hadn’t said, “Told you. Stage two.”

Horacio jerked away, “Its convincing.”

Convincing.

Eva scowled at him. He was far, far too calm—all smooth exterior when she was cracking apart inside. She no longer gave a fuck about giving in to Josh’s plan, not even that he was still in the room and watching the pair of them with his stupid, stupid eyes. Eva was going to even the playing field.

Quick-like, so that he didn’t have a chance to react, Eva got her feet underneath her and then she got Horacio underneath her. His body accommodated Eva, adjusting so that she could sit astride his thighs. She liked that his hands fell naturally to her hips, liked the little involuntary sound he made in that back of his throat.

“Oh, brava!” Josh crowed, “Very good, Birdie.”

She ignored him, focusing on running her hands up Horacio’s chest. Wrist rotating, she caught the chain that constantly hung around his neck and used it to tug him forward. Eyes unfocused, Horacio let her guide him until they were about an inch apart. He was struggling to control his breathing and his scent had sharpened with arousal. If she worked her hips forward, Eva knew he would be hard for her.

“You know what?” Josh cut in, “I’ll sweeten the deal. You set up the meeting and I’ll give you fifteen percent and you can have whatever you want from her.”

What about what she wanted?

The fog in Horacio’s eyes cleared and was replaced with first anger and then cool calculation. He applied a little pressure to her side so that he could look past her. Eva curled her hands over his shoulders and shifted her weight.

“I’m not giving you the name of my supplier.”

Josh scoffed, “Any other alpha would be champing at the bit to knot an omega.”

Horacio shrugged, “Right now, I don’t think I would need your permission to fuck your wife.”

As he spoke, his hands caressed down her thighs and back up again. They slipped beneath the hem of her dress until it caught on his wrists.

“You do if you want to leave this house alive.”

The hammer of a revolver was pulled back.

Horacio’s hands flexed, but he remained still, “I think you’ll find that my friend over there disagrees.”

She didn’t have to look to know that Javier was pointing a gun at Josh. Besides, Eva was more focused on rubbing her thumb over the swollen gland behind Horacio’s ear. It throbbed at her touch, letting her know how much he was holding back.

“Looks like we have a real life Mexican stand-off.”

Did he have to sound so God damned pleased?

Annoyed, Eva leaned forward and laved her tongue over Horacio’s gland. She moaned at the taste of a man soaking in arousal and fighting it tooth and nail. Lips wrapped around it, Eva sucked at the soft, inflamed skin.  

Horacio’s big body shuddered. One arm wrapped around her waist and secured Eva to his chest. The other remained where it was, fingernails digging into her thigh.

“You’re not brave enough to pull the trigger,” he managed around a choked groan.

A shift of fabric against fabric, “I guess we’ll both find out.”

Eva was squished against Horacio’s chest, which was fine—except she didn’t have a lot of room to move. Which she very much wanted to do. His hips were pressed hard against her—and, she was fucking right. Eva wiggled against the hard on trapped behind the fly of his jeans, trying to get a little more pressure on her aching clit.

“I’ll take thirty percent,” Horacio rasped, “and whatever the fuck I want from her. Deal?”

A beat of silence, then, “You’ll set up the meeting?” When Horacio nodded, Josh released the hammer on the revolver. “Thirty percent, then.”

“And?” Horacio drawled, with meaning.

“Do whatever you want to her.”

The muscles in Horacio’s body tightened and his chest vibrated with a dangerous purr. Eva let him guide her so that she sat, upright, in his lap. His thumb swiped across her bottom lip and she caught it between her teeth. He pushed it forward and laid it across her tongue.

Horacio leaned forward to speak over her shoulder, “I told you I would make you regret it.”

Eva barely comprehended what he was saying before Horacio pulled his thumb from her mouth with a wet pop. He held her in a firm grip and, without any further warning, sank blunt teeth into her gland.

There was a lot of screaming.

Josh screamed in rage. Javier in warning.

Eva…

Eva screamed in white hot pleasure. The orgasm that rocketed through her was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. It scored her from the inside, out, leaving devastation in its wake. She was incoherent, writhing helplessly against her alpha while he growled against her neck. Her cunt clenched on empty space, wanting nothing more than to sink down onto a knot.

Euphoric and punch-drunk, Eva collapsed into Horacio’s arms. He cradled her close, held almost all of her weight aloft. Already his scent was changing, taking on little bits of her own. From now until her next heat, Eva would smell like him, too. She didn’t mind it at all.

“I’m going to kindly ask you to leave my house.”

Horacio was breathing hard. He wasn’t moving.

From close by, Javier said, “Its time to go, Diego.” Then, “We’ll be expecting our thirty percent.”

Eva was barely conscious while Horacio gently placed her onto the couch cushions. She whined at the loss, but was too weak to make any attempt to draw him back.

Syncopated footsteps moved away from her.

She curled in on herself as her body cooled. Shivered. Eva knew she wasn’t going to move from that spot for a long time. She rested with the scent of Horacio permanently etched into her skin.

[bonesandthebees]

omg OMG dont even get me STARTED on honey and tangerines

i've genuinely been meaning to reread it this summer, THAT FIC IS ONE OF MY FAV THINGS IN THE WORLD... THE VIBES-

like okay yes almost all of ur fics are my fav in the world, but honey and tangerines hits DIFF man

i started that fic thinking the main conflict was going to be crimeboys, and then angelduo came in with a sledge hammer holy shit

dude. that convo in chapter eight SMACK CAMMED ME SO HARD

like

i remember reading the summary and being like "ooo!! skateboarding", i didnt even clock how the part with phil could be ominous man like-

oooh boi

[takes a deep breath]

im getting emotional thinking about it rn, i havent read this in so long ohmgyod i miss this fic:(

side note before i get into my full mental breakdown over the ConvoTM, i never wanted to learn how to skateboard till i read this fic lmfaoooo

idek why, i was just... never interested, even my bf was like YOO ITS SO COOL and i was like Eh

and then i read this chapter and i was like "... maybe it Can be cool"

brooo BROOO

okay yeah that convo...

i think it's the hardest i've cried reading any of ur fics, normally i tear up and yknow do my whole Pterodactyl screech, but i dont often full blown cry, but holy shit man. Honey and tangerines? I'm pretty sure I bawled.

uh oh im crying again rereading this scene BROO ITS JUST SO WJEAFOIAWEOIRJAWEROIAWEROIWAERJAWEOIJRWAOIERKJLWERJOIWEJWEARIJ

ow

im in pain again

anYWAYS

god this fic is actually the greatest fucking thing in the world i love it so much bee u have no idea bro i adore it to my core :(((

i dont know how to describe it but ooohh my goodness

i just :(( idk i love indie vibes a lot

like... one of my favourite movies is Perks of Being a Wallflower. Indie movies are really important to me bc it just :( it makes me feel like My life will be okay, if their life works out. and... slice of life vibes are just the best

and honey and tangerines is the perfect fic to ever indie vibe, the playlist, the little fluff moments, the climax, everything about it is perfect. i can't describe how perfect it is. i adore it sosoosososososososoosososoo much

i also can... oddly relate to tommy in this fic, more than i thought. my mom didn't have mental health issues but I did have to take care of myself more than I was supposed to when I was younger, and there were a lot of parallels in this fic even though the situations were completely different, that it just... hit a lot harder for me than most fics normally do. especially like... i have a half sibling that i have a super complicated relationship with and crimeboys in this fic almost reminded me of it.

i just :(( honey and tangerines is so so important to me, and it's also just beautifully written, content aside. i love the prose in it. the way you describe everything feels so natural and real. i felt truly immersed. i lose sense of what's around me a lot quicker than i normally do when i read fics. it just instantly grabs my attention.

god, it's written so fucking well.

another way it's affected my life is after i read the laundromat chapter, it gave me the courage to ask my bf to dance w me for the first time. as i've always loved dancing but i've always been super shy about it. but reading that scene just filled me with such joy, that i had to ask my bf, and now it's one of our fav things to do :))

idk man like. wf is the fic that first made me obsessed with your writing. stars is one of the most well written and impressive things i've ever read and heyyy sandduo centric babyyy. also the WORLD BUILDING IS SO COOL. what the water gave me is the fic out of all of ur fics that makes me the most emotional /pos. a dusty tomb is my personal fav comfort fic, it's so fucking cute i love it so much (and the clinic prequel is same vibes as well). ur vamp fics are addicting as hell to read.

but honey and tangerines is the fic that's affected my life the most <3

(god sorry for the long rant, this was not meant to be this long LMAO SFDKAJ)

honey and tangerines was such an interesting fic for me to write because it connected to my irl life in so many subtle ways. I put those nods into my life in a lot of my fics, but honey and tangerines was the one most directly based out of my own life although it was mostly just the concept of having ex step-siblings that I pulled from. I also thought the main conflict was going to be crimeboys going into it, although I knew I wanted a focus on angelduo as well. but then as the story progressed I understood tangerines!tommy a lot more as a character, and his relationship with phil just expanded into so much more. I'm so happy with how it all turned out, and I'm sorry for all the tears I made you shed lol

(this response got long oops so I'm gonna put it under a cut)

you totally get my love of coming of age/slice of life indie movies. I've always been a big movie watcher, and nothing hits quite like a really well done coming of age film. ironically though, the perks of being a wallflower was one I originally wasn't a movie I was very impressed with the first time I saw it. it wasn't until I read the book and then rewatched the movie years later that I was like oh. I think for me two coming of age indie-type films that really hit for me were Lady Bird (because the relationship between Lady Bird and her mom hit very close to home in certain spots for me), and this one called Cha Cha Real Smooth. Cha Cha especially hit for me bc it's about a 22 year old who just graduated college and is trying to figure out where to go now, and I watched it only a few months after I'd turned 22 and graduated college and was floundering for what to do next. so yeah, that one helped me in the same way you described with the whole "maybe my life will work out like theirs" sense.

I'm so glad I was able to capture those vibes in the aesthetics of it all. that was half my motivation for writing it ngl. I just really wanted to try and capture that summertime haze with the descriptions and the playlist and all of it.

I'm sorry you could relate to aspects like those in the fic, but I'm also really glad it was able to provide a source of comfort for you <3

that's so sweet that you asked your bf to dance with you after reading the laundromat scene!! and the skateboarding too is so cute. I'm gonna be honest I do not know how to skateboard nor have I ever had a desire to learn, I just liked the aesthetics of that scene lmao. I hope you've been having a really good time dancing and skateboarding with your bf since though :)

icyfox aaa you're so kind though seriously thank you for all of that. one of my favorite parts about having this 'audience' (for fanfic lmao but it's an audience nonetheless) is hearing how the stories I create for my own joy impact your real lives. like, it's just amazing to me the reach my words can have, and I'm so happy you were able to get so much out of this story. ty for this it made me smile a lot

[harryleatherfit]

Upper East Side || A.U

Frankie Morales

Chapter 7: Call

word count: 2823

warnings: smut, mentions of p and v sex, mentions of squirting, mentions of abuse, emotionally abusive mom, mentions of calorie counting, mentions of disowning, horrible daughter mother relationship, mentions of abusive dad, let me know if i’ve missed any

rating: mature, 18+

Laylah uses they/them pronouns btw!

🪩Main Master List🪩 Series Master List🪩

———

Frankie POV-

She’s my girl. He thought.

Frankie was stretched out on his king sized bed, in his lonely brownstone. All the possibilities that were in the back of his head came true. He finally got to kiss you. His body was on fire with you in that bathroom. He brought his fingers to his swollen lips, remembering the crevices of your lips, reminiscing on your smell.

After the bathroom together, you both walked out of the crowd lingering in the back where no one could know who you two were. It was magical. The sensual club made you both feel alive, your bodies moving together, in rhythm never failing to fall apart. Kissing so much- the language your lips spoke was fluid love.

Is this love, what the fuck is this?

Frankie rethought the whole night to himself. He vowed he would never say the love word, ever fucking again.

This is a quick, short lived thing. Just fun. Love is complicated.

His last girlfriend left him with no notice, he came home one day and she was completely gone. Blocked on every social media, a note saying “you were too easy.”

That took Frankie years to recover from, he had given his all into his relationship with his ex, he started himself over again. To finally be left in the end and having to start from square one.

But he eventually learned that quick fucks here and there would do the trick, he didn’t need the emotional attachment, and his job kept him busy most of the time.

But he felt different about you. You gave him that jumpstart to his heart. Something he hasn’t felt since childhood. He’d been alone his entire life, he didn't know what love is, but when your eyes connect it feels like the walls of his heart are repairing themselves.

The more he thought about your body, the way you felt on his fingers, the walls of your pussy enclosing every time he spoke appraisal towards you.

He snaked his hand to move his pants down to his thighs, along with boxers. Finally letting his cock free from entrapment.

He hissed when the cold draft of his room met the skin of his dick, still so raw from being hard with you.

He picures you by his side, propping yourself on his thighs, rubbing your pussy lips back and forth on the head of his cock. Your pussy so perfect, always so ready for him. He loved that you weren’t fully shaved. It made him feel like he was with a real women and made him want to fuck you more. He hated how women were so ashamed of body hair, it’s natural and nothing to hide. He loved that you opened up to him after being so shy, he embellished in the feeling of you being so comfortable around him. Eating your pussy out was a next level of heaven for Frankie, your hairs brisking against his jaw. Making everything ten times more erotic. He dreamt of your first time together.

“Fuck baby you’re so slick for me. Every damn time, this pussy could quench the whole Sahara desert. Does my cock make this much of a mess from this plump pussy?”

“Frankie, fucking slip it in already I won’t say it twice. Please I’ll be such a good girl. I promise.”

“I guess a good girl knows what she wants? You think you’ve earned my cock?” He asks, and immediately slips in his throbbing cock inside your cunt. He could imagine the feeling of your warm pussy eveloping his dick immediately, accepting its invitation.

He couldn’t last for much longer, the thought of you bouncing on his cock, squirming every time he thrusted into you, you screaming bloody murder, that's how good he would make you feel.

And finally, the thought of you squirting all over his cock and soaking his bush immediately made white spurts of cum shoot out and cover his hand.

“Fuck, fuck fuck baby. Shittttt.” He had to catch his breath, he was so delirious on the thought of you, his orgasm fully took the life out of him.

He felt sexed out, but he needed you, not just for sex. Not how biologically men usually need women. Men only see women as objects and sex toys, and the times he fucked around, he felt bad. He felt like he was a part of the problem, but he would do anything to be better for you. He needs you to breathe, you light his soul on fire. He can see the passion in your eyes, and he knows he will do anything to earn it.

-----

You got home and immediately fell asleep, the sleep crash you got after being high taxed your body. Waking up foggy but still remembering every moment with him.

Your body felt so relaxed after being with Frankie. You never had a man touch you like that before, and you couldn’t believe how much he enjoyed himself. The whole night you thought your eyes were mistaking themselves.

But no matter what, he always made your heart jump a beat when he spoke. And you get to see him again today.

You notice that Laylah is already gone and note on your night stand saying

“Sleep in, I have coffee waiting for you at rehearsal. Last night was interesting. xo.”

Shit. A lead being late for the first rehearsal would not be okay.

You pack your shit together, along with some snacks to tie you over for the day, you look messy and dead in the mirror.

Perfect

“It’ll be okay.” You look in the mirror. You walk out the door and speed to the arts center. Seeing Frankie is your main motivation for the day.

-----

You walk through the school building and find the entrance to the theater, opening the door to find the whole company sitting at tables. Double-shit. On time apparently, is late.

Everyone looks towards you, murmurs abrupt into a never abyss. You’ll never understand this damned school. You find Laylah sitting in the far corner, and as you advance towards her you can hear someone walking behind you. Frankie.

He just walked down from the booth, perfect timing as fucking always.

His presence behind you made your body jolt, your insides churn with desire.

You can’t read his expression, his eyes and mouth are always downturned. You can’t tell if he’s happy or not, he stops abruptly next to you, “Your neck looks colorful, huh?” He whispers, looking in his peripheral.

Shit, you didn’t even bother to wear anything to cover your chest or neck, Frankies hickeys littered your entire upper half but no one knew that. And he just walks past you, taking a seat next to all the directors.

You closely follow taking a seat next to Laylah, you see Nina in the back taking coffee and food orders. Of course she’s sucking up, she’d do anything to assist or be a little pet. Her dad could get her anything at this school.

“All okay?” Laylah asks in a whisper, “You look a little, well, just a little tired and a little bruised.” She laughs.

“Yeah, I'm tired .” The last thing you need is for them to find out you had sex with Frankie. “Can’t believe she’s here.”

“Yeah don't pay attention to her, she’ll see we have coffee and she won’t even come up to us. Here, let me just wipe off your mascara.” She licks her thumb and cleans your eyes.

This is what you revelish in, the simplicity and purity of two humans taking each other. Laylah always took care of you.

“Okay people, first rehearsal.” Ms Roylance begins, “We have Mr. Morales here for his tech team, Mr. Garcia, and Mr. Davis for help. Today may be a long day, so plan accordingly and we’ll break at 4 for an early dinner.”

Nothing you’re not used to.

“I’ll first talk with the lighting team, then props and set design, costumes, makeup, and videography. Check your emails, I already sent out the itinerary for today.” Frankie stands up, walking around the group. You have the perfect sight of him, but you don’t dare trying to meet his eyes. The closest you challenge yourself is the zipper on his jacket. He doesn't deserve anything more.

“First actors, we’ll start with working on intimacy for Lady Mac and Mac. I’m sure this won’t be an issue for you two.” She catches your eyes.

You nod toward Mattias and smile, remembering your in class scene with him, and how easy it came to you both. This pairing made sense.

“And from there we’ll work with some King Duncan scenes. I’d expect us to get out a little after our dinner break but no later than 7! Costuming and make-up I expect you all to go heavy today.”

Groans were heard from the room.

“Hey!” Frankie shouts. “You all signed up for this, we don’t choose the hours, this is what it takes to put a show on broadway in a couple months. We know you all have classes here, we know you have jobs. If you give us respect, we’ll give you respect.”

The more he talked, the more you were turned on. He’s so stern with his words. His tough love made you want him more.

“That being said, it's hard start in 5 minutes.” Roylance closes off.

-------

“Ok Matias, I want you to just hold her cheek a little closer, just to make the audience want more from you two.”

You’ve been working on this scene for a few hours now. Correcting and implementing notes.

“Is it okay if I move a little downstairs to get to him before this?” You ask Roylance.

“Sure, do what you like, note that ASM’s.”

The stage managers and carpentry crew were working all around the actors and the theater was bustling with urban life. You felt immersed in this world.

Matias is so close to you, you both are sharing the same air to breathe.

“Is this okay?” He asks, “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah you’re fine, and during the show I don’t care how you touch me, whatever makes it look the most real.”

“Testing, testing 1,2.” Frankie calls over the god mike.

You look up to him and he’s glaring at you. Hand over his chin and licking his lips.

Jealous?

Matias is still holding you, so you get closer to him going along with your characters dialogue and notes from Ms. Roylance. Hoping that Frankie is watching your every move, what was he gonna do?

You rub circles on Matias’s shoulder and double take to Frankie, he’s standing now. Hunched over in the booth and you chuckle.

Your phone starts to buzz in your pocket, you search for it, the lit up screen…

“Mom?” Why the hell would she be calling you?

“Um Ms. Roylance, I’m so sorry for this, may I excuse myself, I have to take this phone call I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Oh no it’s okay we should break for dinner anyways.” She puts her hands around her mouth, “Company, hour dinner break be back at 5 sharp.”

You run off into a secret hallway in the back of the auditorium, “Hello?”

“Is this my daughter?” She seethes through the receiver.

“Yeah, this is her.” You scoff.

“Why the fuck did you not tell me you were leaving UNCSA to go to NYU, you know that 10x the amount, how the hell are you going to pay for that?”

“Well Alyssa, after I left for college I believe we served ties and you didn’t seem to give a shit that I left. You didn’t pay for UNCSA, I did so I always find a way to pay for college.”

“No sweetie, you wanted to leave like a little brat and you didn’t want to follow my rules. You wanted to eat whatever you wanted, you wanted to stay out all hours of the night, you wanted to engage in illegal activities, you wanted to whore around and I bet that’s how you pay for college. You chose to leave.”

You couldn’t believe that 3 years later she still fucking cares how you go on about your life. “ I understand that I turned 18 and I tried things that you weren't a fan of. And as a teenager I was disrespectful, but listen here, you will never ever get to terrorize me again. You sheltered me my entire life, you were the one that gave me an eating disorder, you bullied me from a young age. You couldn't control your own life, so you controlled mine. Dad left you because of that. You are your own fucking fault. No amount of your manipulation will make me feel bad for you.

“You’re a disrespectful little shit that doesn't know her manners, I’m glad I disowned you. You aren’t my daughter. The day you stopped counting your calories was when I stopped loving you. You aren’t going to make it in the acting world-

“Well fucking watch me bitch.” You yell through the phone and hang up.

Tears are streaming down your face and you pray no one could hear you. Your mothers voice could be practically heard around the world when she would yell at you. Your screaming matches growing up got the cops called once or twice.

What was her purpose of calling you? Just because you left the state doesn’t mean anything to her. She called once or twice when you were in Winston- Salem, just to see if you had booked anything or to see how your grades were, but she knew you would never come home again. There was no reason to. Your dad was abusive growing up, and when he finally left you were left with your emotionally abusive mother, there was no want to go back to a dead childhood.

There were days you missed your mom, the days where you felt like a little girl and not a full grown adult at the age 10, but that was rare.

You stand up and step out the hallway, the theater is empty, you grab your things and decide to head to the booth. It would be an easier place to annotate your script in peace and cry. No matter how much you didn’t care about your mom, she always could find this crevice in your body that would make you cry for hours uncontrollably. You had an hour of peace.

You walk up into the booth, “Shit stick, what's wrong? I tried looking for you.” Laylah was sitting in a chair in front of the lighting board and this techie guy was sitting next to her.

“Oh hi um, sorry I don’t mean to intrude, you probably don’t want to hear this.” You say toward the man.

“Oh no problem, I have no one to tell, you can say anything I don’t mind.” He utters.

“Yeah babe, don’t mind him. Seriously you can talk, it's safe here. I saw Nina walk out 10 minutes ago, what's on your mind?”

You wish you could talk about Frankie, but that's far from voicing to anyone, even your best friend and her random man friend. So your mom it is.

“My mom called.”

“Shit, what’d she have to say?”

You start to break, “Well she was aksing about UNCSA, and NYU and then she went into just her manipulative shit as always and-” Snot drips down your face, “Fuck” You wipe, “She just has this way of always reminding me of how I was such a shitty daughter and she will never let down my childhood, I’m sick and fucking tired of her.”

“Hug?” Laylah asks with her arms out.

You embrace her and stay there for a while. “Can I hug too?” The man asks.

“Bring it in” You voice with a smile.

“This is Bryce, by the way. We have a class together and he does lighting for the show. We got your coffee together this morning.” Laylah reveals.

“Well hello special man,” You give your hand to shake his,”Ever so pleased to meet you.”

“And you.” He laughs.

“Well thank you for this, I can sit in the corner, I was gonna just annotate my script and put in my headphones so you guys can get back to business.” You wink.

“We're about to leave to get Boba, but you have your fun with your script date!”

“I’ll tell you all about it tonight.” You yell after them.

If Laylah dates Bryce, you’d be happy. He looks like a good fellow? Fuck what were guys your age that are nice supposed to look like? He looked fine, you’re glad Laylah is exploring.

You get your pens and markers out and dive into the world of Macbeth, expecting the next 50 minutes to be a world of disaster.

——

previous || next

authors note: this is kinda a filler and shorter.. and i haven’t read through it for mistakes…..BUT i’m out of school and i have so much time to write, and i have many chapters planned 🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️

[nightyelean]

FUCK: YES.

MOON (seemingly, probably, hopefully) FALLS FIRST

only the most dearest gratitude from your one and only charming anon, for gracing us with the literacy perfection that is the last few chapters.

On another note, (something i unfortunately forgot to mention in my previous comments towards your fic) as a raging demisexual, mere words cannot describe just how much the daycare attendant and minor side characters' lovely dynamic gives me life and a reason to refresh AO3 on a 4-5 hour basis (and under reluctant admission, quite obsessively so). the well developing friendships, lack of expressed emotional and physical attraction on borh ends towards individuals until further/stronger trust and friendship is established, generally just The Skrunklies being their goofy, complicated and mentally traumatized selves with eachother (eventually healing through their relationships and L word towards one another respectively maybe 👀),,, all the good stuff. not to mention the delicious, heart wrentching ANGST

You're a legend, truly

That's not to say anything else isn't just as valid. this twists my gut in the best way in particular personally is all. while other takes on relationships are perfect for others equally as much as yours is to my preferences, I don't happen to see the trope presented currently in your fic nearly as much in fandoms of all kindq. my fellow APHBC enthusiasts can have the ultimate, most grand slow burn as a treat I suppose (courtesy of you, ever so providing)

Additionally, screw you (affectionate). I recently picked up my loyal sophmore-age-old Kirkland grade drawing pencil and started up on sketching fan scribbles after years of it sitting in all its latent, pathetic glory in my cheap shitty art-designated notebook originally bought for chemistry class. my bröther in christ, I've literally spent hours dedicated to just one piece being my usual perfectionist (albeit, still amazing) self. every minor character, only relevant to the plot in order to drive the main leads to their evental destination in eachothers loving embrace, has their flaws. not to brag or anything ofc

TL:DR it'll probably be a hot minute till I aquire the mental fortitude strong enough to actually send it all to this blog

Anyways, this is getting much too long and I have a practice exam tomorrow to oh so eagerly look forward to. Come hither agony of the mental state and back pains for the next few days due to hunching over an uncomfortable desk for acopious amount of time. No need to overstay my welcome, though I'm sure my presence in itself is always a honor to all those graced with it

Stay safe and make sure to not strain yourself over the fic, or anything else in life really. don't let writing become a chore instead of an output for sun and moon induced passion(they jusg have that natural effect on people). I've seen too many part time aamazing writers-part time good people such as yourself fall into that state of mind, often due to mistreatment by certain readers who forget their place as mere observers to the masterpiece that is your works. there is no pressure to do this for anyone other than yourself, dear author. I also understand if you maybe also feel happy when others get comfort or enjoyment out of your works, but please don't let that be your only driving factor. true fans care about your wellbeing over frequent updates and such. I'm rambling again (please don't take this as trying to lecture you either. tell me to back off if that is how it is perceived, I don't know how to properly articulate my thoughts on this matter is all)

Again, no need to respond or read this long ass essay of an anonymous ask. take care in the real world and online. eat well, sleep well, live well; you know the drill :)

You

YOU

AaaaAA YOU’RE YOURE GONNA MAKE ME CRY. Dude IN THE MOST GENDER NEUTRAL WAY AAA U AND UR LONG ANON ASK.

First of all, hello the charming anon, as always like you said its a honor to have you here. you’re always welcome in my asks, just like everybody else.

ALSO. Ppl going silly because Moon is going to fall first— It makes me happy. I dont know how it happened but it happened, Moon might indeed be the first one👀 silly silly.

AND MY RAGING DEMISEXUAL FELLOW SAME SAME ME TOO. WELCOME. Honestly i sometimes wonder if i goofed this and wish that i wrote it better bcuz me also love this troupe. Me also want more. I want some real slowburn of friends to lovers kinda stuff. Pain.

AND AND AND IF YOU Y O U DREW SOMETHING YOU BETTER SEND ME. I WILL I WILL HOLD IT OH SO GENTLY LIKE. Even if its just Cloud being a stickman i want it. Please. *grabby hands* give give give give give give give gi

You never overstay ur welcome, friend! Please. I love,,, i love reading goofy long stuff. I am just like you fr, just writing whatever goes through my mind without any organization. I wish you lots of luck in your exam! Very yucks. You got it though🏃🏃 Seriously thank you for all your sweet words, I will indeed try to not push myself. Honestly like this is such a hyperfixation for me rn it makes me wanna post everyday, i need to physically hold myself to not to. Because I know if i do that one day i will be out of chapters ehdje😭 ANYWAYS AAA. Honestly I have no idea how this much ppl liked my silly stuff but!!! I appreciate it!! A LOT. I am seriously nothing but a silly clown, and i honk my red nose to you in an affectionate way. Please know that you can always come here to ramble! I am so ready to listen and chat, its funky. Do tell me if your exam goes good too! Have a nice day or night, you are such a lovely person. Sending Moon and Sun love to you, also me aka Nighty love. <3

[tailsrevane]

[book review] the amber spyglass by philip pullman (2000)

now this is more like it.

this story is bigger. the world feels massive and complicated. you don’t know what everyone’s going to do before they do it. i think what impresses me the most, and what is the most welcome change from its predecessor, is that it fucking takes its time. the book manages to convey the breathless pace of a final, desperate fight for survival & freedom without feeling like it’s in a hurry. it feels very in control, very measured, and like it gives everything that happens a real chance to breathe despite the fact that so much shit is happening.

i do think lord asriel & mrs. coulter’s redemption arcs are a little too easy. and i am giving serious side-eye to the fact that the book (justifiably) harshes on mrs. coulter quite a bit while basically never really grappling whatsoever with the fact that lord asriel killed a fucking child. like, it just literally never comes up. so that’s… awkward.

i think it’s fucking wild that catholics get so up in arms about these books considering how fucking nothing the allegorizing in them is. like, yeah, this one does specifically mention “the swiss guard” which is the most overt reference to the fact that the church in lyra’s world is clearly a vastly more powerful version of the catholic church that maintained the overt political authority they had in the middle ages rather than having to get by with being wealthy landowners like they are today. but just. idk man, it’s still so possible to imagine someone reading this without even noticing that it’s anti-church. so getting all upset about it & demanding boycotts just comes off as the most fragile shit ever imo.

on that note, the cosmology of this world is a bit lacking for my tastes. like, i ended up agreeing with what my partner said about the second book that just having the entire conflict be between spicy atheists & spicy christians, where even seemingly powerful outsiders like the witches ultimately end up deriving all their shit from the same boring source is just a bit disappointing.

i also completely agree with him that it’s pretty annoying that pullman just had to go with a downer ending. like, i admittedly did actually get pretty genuinely emotional when lyra & will realized they were going to have to be separated. it was very well-written, and in a limited amount of time (considering the sheer amount of other shit the book had to get through, seriously this thing was massive) the book did manage to make me care quite a bit about their relationship even though i knew where things were going from the vague memories of previous reading.

what really puts this book over the top for me, though, is mary’s story in the chapter “marzipan.”

you know when a story has That Scene? the one where you could pull it out of the larger story and, standing completely on its own, it would still be just absolutely stunningly good? and if you did pull it out of the larger body it was from, that larger body would just suddenly be drastically less special? i’m thinking of, like, valerie page’s diary in v for vendetta. this is that scene for me.

the way mary told her story just made me smile so much. it’s just… it’s so intimate, and it’s so tender. it really emphasizes the literal sweetness, the playfulness that comes along with love. it’s just some truly incredible writing, i’m really not sure what else to say.

and i guess that’s kind of what it comes down to with these books. like, there are plenty of things about them i don’t like. but they’re just so damn well-written. i think i’ve reached a point in my life where i’m comfortable saying that i’d rather spend my time reading things that more directly appeal to me, but i’m still glad i revisited these to see if they held up at all, and discovered that they mostly do.

a-rank

[mrkis]

a twlg ask from 🦄anon below the cut!! i had to put it in a separate post bc it was long and i didn't want to clog anyones dash with this!! my response to you is below too!!

So this would be quite a long one and I apologize in advance for the novel I'm going to write. 😅😅

Firstly, I would like to thank you for the update, I almost died when I saw that you will be updating and splitting part 6 into 2 parts. Mind you, I was on the train as I was travelling back home from visiting some friends a few towns over. I was basically about to cry but I was in public and my best friend was with me so I had to wait a couple of hours until I got home and was ready to indulge myself with twlg.

Seeing the events through Jaemin's point of few is so interesting, kinda frustrating but it also makes so much sense. I know and understand that what happened with him and that hag Eunbin took a toll on his mind quite badly. Like we have heard in the previous chapters he was basically obsessed with her so it makes so much sense that he was seeing her stupid face everywhere and I can feel his frustration over it cause he wants her gone from his mind. Its pretty obvious that she hurt so bad he never wants to have anything to do with her, his thoughts on that are pretty clear, but im curious as hell for the next part where we see him with her and how he was feeling during all of it and why he did not push her completely away. I wonder what was going on in his head.

Now, I cant really understand why he would lie to mc that no one was watching them in the hallway when people infact did, but then again I dont think he fully understands himself and why he is doing stuff with her the way that he is and how he feels. That jealously toward Mr. Moon? It was an interesting process to witness.

I knew he was jealous of Yang, but oh man he KNOWS Yang has a thing for mc, its quite obvious and I wonder when will those two erupt in regards to their own feelings toward her.

Jeno asking him if he ever thought of more than fwb and the way Jaemin reacted makes me believe he has, but as the last 2 paragraphs said he is scared of going through another heartbreak and I think this is very much intefering with the way he sees the situation. He is trying too hard to not get his heart involved and broken, but I think he is already too far gone, he is just being in a huge denial as its easier to call mc a distraction. Why else would he panick about them being exclusive? She is his fuck buddy, why should it matter if people know? He wanted them to because he couldnt keep his hands to himself anyway. But I also think he is trying to proof that Eunbin is no longer in his life both to himself and that bitch Mia.

Personally, I feel like its slowly going to down on him how much of a couple he and mc are and how things changed quite quickly, the moment his mind catches up to his heart is the moment he would break, Im just afraid that this will happen once mc lets go of him, cause it will bother him. The way you have pointed out that the way he feels around her is different and something he never felt before with anyone else, how its basically "head empty just her" type of thing. To me that its not something you feel with your fuck buddy, this is a deep emotion and connection. And that last part where it says he doesnt want to fall in love, like honey we dont control that shit it just happens. We dont chose who to love. Just because he doesnt want to involve himself in those type of feels to keep his own heart safe doesnt mean he wont get involved. He brushes all those jealousy feelings aside cause it bothers him to admit what he feels. And its normal, its scary to think of falling back in love when it can be 10 times more intense and it begins as such complicated relationship. I do not trust him when he claims she is just a distraction. He appreciates her. That polaroid moment was adorable and the way he put that picture up so early on? fucking adorable.

I wanted to see that moment after the party when he wakes up and stares at Jeno, I wonder what that was. I also cant wait for the "I appreciate you scene" from his point of view and the spit in her mouth one. I crave to see what he was thinking cause to me it feels like those may be major turning points.

I have so much more to say but this is getting too long so Im just gonna wrap it up. 😅 Again, thank you Cass for the update and I can not wait for the next update. I am so invested in twlg its unhealthy atp😅

-🦄

[ mrkis response ] : omg please don't apologise for sending long types of asks, i seriously enjoy them so much! i'm so unbelievably thankful <3

i'm so happy you found jaemin's pov interesting!! it's been so fun writing it so far and i can't wait to get the next part done to see your reactions. jaemin has definitely built up so many walls and taken on this cold/quiet/mysterious persona because of past events, he really doesn't want anyone to know what he's feeling and he doesn't really want to indulge in any sort of conversation with anyone, so it has been fun writing in his head and showing everyone want type of person he truly is and what his thought process was/is throughout his friends with benefits situation with mc.

him reacting to eunbin coming back is going to be so intense... i asked for opinions in the discord where i should the scene i wrote abt jaemin seeing eunbin for the first time and the response i got is making me so excited. i really can't wait to see what you guys think either.

regarding the "nobody is watching us" when they were, jaemin only lied because he hated seeing mc so uncomfortable and wary. he lied to make her feel better... although, lying abt it wasn't exactly the best thing to do lmao. he had good intentions!! it just didn't come off that way unfortunately :(

with jaemin and yangyang, i can't really say much as this will be spoken abt in six(pt.2) but although jaemin knows yangyang has a thing for mc, in the back of his head, jaemin thinks yangyang only wants mc for one thing and one thing only. remember... yangyang is a fuckboy in this. they know him. i'll leave you with that :p

mc and jaemin have a deep connection, whether they'll admit it or not. mc, i believe, has fully realised their situation and their deep connection which is why she confessed abt liking him in part five... but with jaemin, jaemin is different. so it's going to be interesting to figure out where exactly he wants to stand with mc and if he wants anything more (which so fair, he's admitted to not wanting anything or not wanting to think abt it)

the scene with him staring at jeno after the party i left otu because it wasn't that interesting fkhjs;lk it was just him staring at jeno because he remembered the kiss from the night before LMAO. but the 'i appreciate you scene'... thats gonna be a favourite for sure

tysm for reading and giving me your thoughts and opinions!!! it means the most <3

[depressed-shinnie]

did u know that gay people exist and theyre called alishin.................................. "The number 49 is also considered unlucky, as its pronunciation is similar to the Japanese term shiku, meaning 'to suffer and die'." cool.......1111 very nice lets pick that one

oh. my. fucking. god.

you’re right. it is unlucky. you got the song i was hoping no one would.

the fucking homestuck song.

…You got Coin-Operated Boy by The Dresden Dolls. Lucky for you, I am not going off of the homestuck version of the song and am going off of the actual song. Yet again, this reminds me of Shin and Midori’s high school friendship (guys I swear I’ll talk about something else soon), and just as a quick disclaimer: I do not ship SouShin and find it absolutely repulsive. None of this is soushin, and none of it ever will be.

“Made of plastic and elastic He is rugged and long lasting Who could ever ever ask for more? Love without complications galore”

Shin’s high school life, even before meeting Midori, is… sad, at best. He’s implied to have had little to no friends growing up, living up to his loner nickname as an adult. So, when he finally meets a friend who seems to care about him like no one else has before? He’s over the moon. And do to his inexperience with friendship, he ignored every red flag because he never knew what a green flag was supposed to look like. He thought that he had to be grateful that Midori was even paying attention to him, and Midori played into this. The plastic and elastic parts are just a reference to Midori being part doll.

“Coin operated boy All the other real ones that I destroy Cannot hold a candle to my new boy And I'll never let him go And I'll never be alone”

(This might be a little repetitive, sorry) Same general theme as the above one, not having many, if any, friends before this, so he clings onto Midori desperately because he doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

“Oh will you persist even after I bet you a million dollars That I'll never love you and will you persist even after I kiss you Goodbye for the last time will you be trying to prove it, I'm dying To lose it, I'm losing my confidence”

Any future relationship Shin may have (platonic or otherwise) will be tainted by Midori’s influence. Trying to protect the people he loves the only way he knows how, and ending up hurting himself and the people around him in the process. An example of this (PLATONICALLY JESUS) is Kanna. He cares for her, yes, but he doesn’t know how to have a healthy friendship, because he’s never really had one. Of course, Kanna’s situation is different, as it takes place in the Death Game after Shin went off the deep end.

“Coin operated boy, he may not be real experienced with girls But I know, he feels like a boy should feel, isn't that the point That is why I want a coin operated boy With a pretty coin operated voice saying That he loves me, that he's thinking of me Straight and to the point that is why I want a coin operated boy”

This is going off more into my own mind here, but this makes me think of Shin’s reaction to seeing Midori in the death game during Chapter 3, and trying to wrap his head around the concept of Midori using him for the Death Game, and nothing more. To wrap his head around the idea that Midori never actually cared about it. Also learning that Midori replaced his arms and head for doll extensions, Shin had a very intense reaction to learning that his old friend wasn’t even human all that time.