#he's consuming every waking and sleeping thought. all i dream about is him.

[homicidal-slvt]

Can Kurt stop eating my brain like a disease please

[milswrites]

Sweetened Dreams

Pairing: Azriel x Dream Weaver Fem!Reader

Summary: Having access to the people of Velaris' dreams was a gift you did not take for granted. Having access to your mate's heated dreams? Absolutely delicious.

Warnings: 18 + mdni (f oral, p in v, sex dreams).

Word count: 2.6k

You watched on from the balcony as rosy fingered dawn made her appearance. The warm light of the morning sun bled into the horizon, casting an amber glow over the sleeping streets of Velaris.

It was early — far too early for you to be awake on your day off. And yet, despite the remnants of drowsiness which still lingered in your system, you found yourself incapable of succumbing to the warm embrace of sleep.

Rather, you welcomed the gentle breeze of the morning air as it kissed your reddened cheeks on the balcony of your home, the wind working to quell the heated blush which had risen in the wake of your untimely stirring.

You were no stranger to being awake at unreasonable hours — it was the gruelling nature of your job. Gifting dreams to the slumbering citizens of the Night Court. Yet, in all your years of working, never had you been disturbed by another person's dreams as you rested. Not until now.

The soft, lingering touches as his gentle hands explored your curves.

The salacious cry of pleasure which slipped from his parted lips.

The mouth-watering drag of his hips languidly meeting your own.

Azriel was dreaming.

Dreaming of you.

The sensuous image of Azriel's lustful fantasy, alongside the blinding wave of arousal being passed down the bond, was enough to leave you flushed. Dawn's cool air provided you with no respite from your mate's titillating thoughts as your cheeks grew warmer and warmer with each minute passed.

The heated kiss of his soft lips trailing across the sensitive skin of your neck.

The grounding touch of his calloused hands laced between your own.

The desperate groan which followed each passionate thrust he delivered.

It was impossible to block him out — whatever meagre control you once held over your magic had since been relinquished. Unable to change the course of his temptuous dream, your mind focussed solely on the primal surge of your mate's pleasure as it travelled down the bond. Finding every ounce of him overwhelming — your swirling thoughts were consumed by Azriel, and Azriel alone.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Lost in the haze of the male's lustful vision, images of his mouth latched onto your skin caused a pleasant warmth to pool between your legs. Desire rising in your chest, you failed to notice that Azriel's dream had ceased. The familiar hum of your unruly magic had long since subsided and yet, even in the absence of its presence, your amorous thoughts remained solely on him.

Absorbed by the insatiable pulse of your growing hunger, you startled as the low voice of your mate called out from behind you. The remnants of sleep clinging on to Azriel's words as he huskily uttered, "my love, do you ever rest?"

"The city is sleeping, and so I'm awake," you answered simply, pausing for a moment as your mate's tender hands came to wrap around your middle — Azriel's welcoming warmth enveloping you as his chest firmly pressed against your back. You released a small sigh of contentment at his action, your head rolling back to rest against his shoulder as you continued, "when you sleep, your . . . thoughts -" Azriel's nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck, a wave of pleasure washing over your body as his soft hum urged you to continue, "-they're quite loud."

A low sound of amusement rumbled in Azriel's chest at your words. Yet, the male's efforts remained focussed on leaving a trail of languidly placed kisses along the expanse of your neck, until — finally — the ghost of his heated breath enticingly blew against your ear as the Shadowsinger confessed, "I was dreaming about you."

You were helpless in stopping the quiet moan which slipped from your lips as Azriel gently tugged you closer towards him, goosebumps rising on your skin as the light touch of his growing member brushed tantalisingly against your back. Breathless, you replied, "I know . . . I saw it."

"And was this your doing?" Azriel enquired, a small cry of frustration escaping your mouth as the male halted his sensuous actions. His teasing lips torturously hovering over the sweet spot on your neck as he continued to press, "have you been blessing my dreams again, my love?"

"Not this time," you answered truthfully. Whilst soothing Azriel's restless slumber and unsettling nightmares came naturally to you, never have you had the courage to bless your mate's dreams with the sweetness that he was referring to, "those thoughts were yours alone."

"A pity," Azriel concluded, the male lessening the grip of his arms around your waist as he devilishly smirked down at your faltering expression, "I suppose if you've already seen it, I needn't provide you with a demonstration — oh, but what a sweet dream it was."

You pouted at the absence of Azriel's searing touch as you turned to face the male. Your hand moving to slowly graze your mate's bare chest as you lifted your playful gaze to meet his darkened eyes, "now that you mention it . . . I may need a reminder of exactly what it was that I saw."

"Is that so?" the Shadowsinger asked with a raised brow, his wings twitching with a mind of their own as he noted the pleasant shift in your honeyed scent.

"Hmm . . . how did it start again?" you mused, an alluring smile working its way onto your face as you moved your lips to lightly brush against his own, Azriel's breath catching in his throat at your teasing contact as you seductively whispered, "like this?"

"Actually," Azriel's wandering hands slipped down to meet the back of your thighs, the male swiftly lifting you up into his arms as he began to retreat back into the comforting warmth of your bedroom. The promise of a fulfilling morning upon his lips as he purred, "I think it began with my head between your legs."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The experienced swipe of his salacious tongue against your slick.

The cooling bliss of his restless shadows as they moved to explore the soft contours of your writhing body.

The heated lust in his sultry gaze as he worked to keep his sight on your hooded eyes.

Azriel devoured you like a man starved.

And yet, despite the fervent nature of his actions, your mate's passion was delivered with an air of intimacy. The Shadowsinger's gentle hands moving to lace between your own as he softly groaned in satisfaction against your dripping sex.

It was almost too much to bear — your back arching from the bed in response to the carnal swipe of Azriel's tongue against your pulsing heat. A low whine falling from your lips as the male contentedly lapped up the taste of your sweetened arousal.

You mewled when Azriel turned his attention towards your clit, your mouth parting breathlessly as the male lazily trailed small circles around your aching bud. Gripping his hands tighter, you helplessly bucked against his face, your eyes closing in ecstasy as you lowly begged for more.

It was utter bliss.

Your senses were wholly consumed by your mate as he eagerly worked to bring you to completion, each delicious movement succeeding in ebbing away the last dregs of drowsiness which still remained from your early wakening.

Yet, your feeling of intense pleasure was gone all too soon, Azriel having pulled away just as you were on the precipice of your high. Groaning at the absence of his heated touch, your eyes fluttered open to meet your mate's mischievous gaze, a matching smirk etched onto his handsome face.

A lucky female indeed.

"Is this stirring your memory yet, my love?" Azriel crooned, the male slowly crawling up the length of your body until his swollen lips came to brush against your own. That same glint of unbridled mischief reflecting in your own eyes as you hummed your reply, "possibly . . ." Your hand leisurely trailed down Azriel's chest until it came to rest upon his hardened cock, "but I may need a little reminder of what came next."

A frenzied growl broke from Azriel's throat at your action, the male's eyes growing dark with lust before he finally sealed his lips against your own.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The kiss was searing — a passionate clash of tongues and teeth. Your mouths moved together in a wondrous synchrony as the two of you sought to sate your growing desire.

You were insatiable; wanting nothing more than to be consumed by all Azriel had to offer.

His sweetened scent.

His delectable taste.

His heated touch.

Every last inch of him was intoxicating.

You needed your fix of him, and so, desperate to quell the pulsing ache which had risen in your core at his fervid touch, you impatiently rolled your hips against his own. A feverish moan spilling from your lips as the head of Azriel's leaking cock brushed tantalisingly against your dripping folds.

Softly chuckling at your growing frustration, Azriel playfully nipped at the push skin on your lips as he pulled away from the kiss. Admiration pooling in your mate's hazel eyes, he stole a moment to take in the radiance of your morning glow. His once darkened gaze softening as it swept over your heavenly features, the male's mouth parted in awe as he quietly asked, "am I still dreaming?"

You blushed at the innocence of Azriel's question, your hand moving to lovingly rest against your mate's face as your thumb began to gently caress his pinkish cheeks. A soothing smile crossing your lips, you replied with a question of your own, "and what would you do if you were still dreaming?"

Azriel lent forwards, the heated touch of his breath softly tickling the sensitive skin of your neck as he purred, "I would do this." The male placed a gentle kiss into the crook of your neck, your body quivering with anticipation as he began to trail his mouth lower. "And this," he uttered, sweetly placing another kiss onto the curve of your breast. "And also this," he finished, his lips moving to ghost over your pert nipple. Azriel's mouth parted into a soft 'o' as the male lightly blew onto your stiffened peak, a warm smile stretching across his face before his swollen lips finally came to close around your breast.

Sighing in bliss, you arched into the male's touch, your body writhing underneath his own as he delicately sucked at your tender skin. "Is that all?" you taunted breathlessly as Azriel moved his mouth to tend to your other breast, whining as your mate teasingly rolled his tongue around your peaked nipple.

Yet, the wondrous sensation which had risen from your mate's salacious kisses did nothing to sate your ever-growing desire. And so, needing more, you ground yourself against the male's hardened cock — your eyes heavy with want as you urged him to act.

So Azriel did. A soft cry spilling from your lips as the male slowly pushed his cock into your pulsing heat, your mate euphorically mumbling into your skin as he did so, "gods, you're perfect... my beautiful, beautiful mate." 

You flushed at both his sweetened words and the pleasant feeling of his cock as he fully sheathed himself inside you. A languorous moan emitted past your lips as he stretched you fully; the sound turning into one of incredulous frustration as your mate failed to move. Locking your legs around his waist, you impatiently ground your hips against his, asking — no begging — the male for more. "Eager little thing," Azriel whispered as he began to move his hips at a torturously slow pace, "let me enjoy you, my love."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

It was impossible for Azriel to look away; his drunken gaze lust-filled and half-lidded as the male fought against his growing pleasure to keep his eyes locked on you.

On the delectable bounce of your plush breasts as they followed the slow rhythm of his passionate thrusts.

On the darkness which had consumed your irises as lust and desire took hold of your gaze.

On the shape of your parted lips as you let out sweet sounds of pleasure as you milked his warmed cock.

If this were a dream, then Azriel wished never to wake — the male longing to stay in his slumber forever, so as to memorise every intricate detail of your face.

Craving a more intimate connection, Azriel entwined his hands with your own, his face moving to burrow into the curve of your neck before softened words of love and adoration began to tumble from your mate's awestruck lips.

Azriel gritted his teeth as he quickened his pace, the male chasing after the addicting high of his release. His heart pounding at the way you clenched around his cock as your own organism grew nearer. And it was there, the sweet sound of your mewling slowly working to coax your mate's eyes open, that Azriel once more bore witness to your ethereal glow. 

A bright warmth radiated from your skin, the soft light reflecting in Azriel's reverential gaze. It was as though you had been blessed by the stars themselves; your skin holding a golden lustre which made you look utterly irresistible.

You were a gift.

To Prythian.

To Velaris.

To Azriel.

Basking in the light of your other-worldly power, Azriel's grip on your hands tightened as he continued his bruising rhythm, his wings twitching as he took in your godly form beneath him. A strangled cry of pleasure escaped your lips at the male's deep strokes, his fervent passion succeeding in tipping you over the edge of bliss as the heated wave of your orgasm finally washed over you.

Guided by your glowing light, Azriel continued to chase after his own release. The male's thrusts grew desperate as he moved deeper and deeper inside of you with each stroke delivered. Until finally, Azriel reached his own high. The low tones of his frenzied groan reaching your ears as your mate came undone, ribbons of his white hot cum painting your walls as he did so.

You both lay there for a moment, the weight of Azriel's chest heaving against your own as the two of you fought to catch your breaths.

Stealing a moment to bask in the peaceful silence of dawn, you admired the male's post-sex glow. The glistening sheen of his sweat-soaked brow, the delicate curl of his tousled hair, the satisfied smile which lazily stretched across his swollen lips.

It was difficult to believe that Azriel was real and not simply a conjuring of your own imagination — a manifestation of your sweetest dreams. Yet, the grounding touch of his hands clasped between yours reminded you that this was real; that he was real.

It was only when the crushing wave of your highs had subsided, and the golden glow of your shimmering skin had dwindled, did Azriel then then pull himself from you. The male slumping onto the bed by your side, his large wings dropping in fatigue before he pulled you into the the warm embrace of his arms.

Softly sighing at the cool touch of his wandering shadows which still trailed across the length of your heated skin, you began to tease, "Was that everything you dreamed of then?"

"Everything and more," Azriel replied, his thumb working to rub small circles into your hip as he nestled his head into the crook of your neck once more, the male placing a gentle kiss onto your skin before he continued, "what a lucky male I am, to have had my dreams turned into reality by a being as beautiful as you."

You blushed at his words, amazed at the effect that the male still had on you even after years of being together. Glowing in domestic bliss, you answered, "perhaps I may have to start blessing your dreams myself if this is the treatment I'll receive. A good morning, indeed."

Azriel sleepily chuckled into your shoulder at your reply, his bright eyes finding yours before he warmly stated, "It's always a good morning when I wake to the sight of the sun between my arms."

Notes: so I'm back on the writing grind (hopefully)! I have a few more ideas for this pairing so let me know if you want to see more of them! Thank you to @itsswritten and @writingcroissant for sparking this idea and to @sarawritestories , @ninthcircleofprythian and @daycourtofficial for dealing with my mental breakdowns whilst I wrote this lol.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

[maxlarens]

hi lilli!! i heard angst and i came running, how about searching for each other in crowded rooms, finding each other everywhere with logan or oscar, whoever sparks the most inspo, but plot twist—not being able to be together for some reason (the why is totally up to you, feel free to ignore if this isn't your cup of tea). thank u thank u <3

kait!!! hello!!! thank u for sending this in!!! im gonna do oscar 😁 it genuinely hurt my feelings SO BADLY to not have them make up at the end of this. so i sympathise with everyone that im about to make sad it was a bad time for me too❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

It's familiar, this feeling.

The squeeze of your chest, the grieving, panicking thing climbing up your throat. You've been feeling it a lot lately, every time you catch a glimpse of someone with hair the same colour as Oscar's; wearing clothes you swear that he has; a person with the same shoulders, the same gait.

You've been seeing him everywhere. You just think you have. Monaco is small… not that small apparently.

When it had first happened, at the beginning of summer break, you’d half expected to be back together within a week. For Oscar to message you and half-beg to talk to you again. In your dreams, you’d both come grovelling back to each other, apologising for cruel words, making amends for various mistakes. Then you would kiss him and you’d tell him how much you love him and things would get better.

Instead, you’ve spent weeks of your summer break totally and utterly miserable. Missing Oscar like a phantom limb. You reach for him, he’s not there. You go to text him, find a thread of messages discussing the logistics of returning the other’s belongings.

You sit in your flat and you watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy twice in a row twenty two hours and forty-four minutes because it doesn’t remind you of Oscar and it occupies your time in a way nothing else can right now. You cry until your eyes are puffy and you write in a diary you’ve never touched before, because it needs to go somewhere. The feeling stuck in your throat needs to be written down said out loud and you can’t say it to Oscar, who you would usually tell everything, because he needs “distance from you right now”.

Briefly, you convince yourself that “right now”, indicates that there still might be a later for the two of you. That this thing between you that’s fallen to pieces might one day be salvaged. In the quiet moments of Lord of the Rings you spiral down a rabbit hole of ways to get Oscar back, pathetic fantasies of how you might convince him to talk to you again. Then Arwen says, “I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone” and you cry for two hours straight.

You sob, your face in your pillow and you think that was supposed to me! That was supposed to be us! And maybe it wasn’t, maybe you’re not an elven maiden giving up her immortality for a mere man, but you love Oscar. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with Oscar. And now… now…

Well—

It is the waiting that’s the worst.

No texts, no calls. Lando sends you a few, but you can’t bear to hold a conversation with him, knowing he’s playing both sides. And anyway, you’re just thinking about Oscar. Is he there? Is he reading your texts? Seeing the pathetic selfies of you on your couch in days-old PJs? Is he staring at your stagnant text thread just like you are? Has he blocked you?

Your every waking thought is consumed by him. You drag yourself out of the apartment for coffee down the street and you wonder what he’s doing. Has he been rotting at home like you? More than likely he’s been doing things. Playing padel with Lando, going out for lunch, training at the gym, FaceTiming his family.

You feel sick to you stomach. You can list on one hand the activities that you’ve done since Oscar broke up with you at the beginning of the month:

Sleeping, crying, watching Lord of the Rings, ordering takeout, training because you have to. Going for coffee had been a big step out of your current comfort zone. You’re wearing pants that aren’t sweatpants… you’d even showered properly for fuckssake.

You got your most noise-cancelling headphones on, blasting sad Taylor Swift (who you don’t even like. It’s just something to fill the void) and staring down the barista so you can lip-read if they’re saying your name or the words Large Oat Latte. And then—

Then. The barista is mouthing Oscar and your stomach lurches as the exact object of your ire temporary depression walks to the counter. You try to convince yourself it’s not him, you keep seeing him places but it’s never really him. But it is, that’s his burgundy shirt, his swoop of hair, his knobbly little ankles.

You release a ragged breath that you hope isn’t too loud. You duck your head, try to avoid his gaze as he turns, pretending that you haven’t seen him. Try to look occupied by your phone though you’ve only had time to open to your home screen. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you blink furiously, trying your best not to fall apart in this coffee shop.

At least he’s not with someone else, you think as a tightness crawls up your throat to settle at the base of your tongue. But he looks happy, he looks fine, he looks better than you feel right now. God, what if he’s better off without you? What does it mean that you don’t seem to better off without him?

There’s something wet sliding down your left cheek and then you see Nike trainers entering your vision, still directed firmly downward. Someone puts a hand on your shoulder— you don’t jump but it’s a near thing. You reach up to slip your headphones off, wiping the tear discreetly as you go. Then you look up and it’s him, it’s Oscar.

He’s holding out a paper cup labeled, Oat Latte and smiling at you tightly.

“They were calling your name,” he says by way of explanation.

“Right,” your voice is shaky, weak, “Thanks.”

He nods, you take the coffee, careful not to touch his hand. You’re trying to swallow down the lump in your throat that’s rising rising trying to claw its way out of your mouth. You blink away the tears filling the corners of your eyes. You can’t look at him.

You’re looking up at the ceiling instead, biting the inside of your mouth. Breathing in and out, in and out.

He says your name, and then, “Do you want to talk?”

You feel like a tonne of bricks has just hit your chest. Knocking the wind out of you. Tears, hot and wet, are slipping down your cheeks. You can’t speak, you turn around and leave the coffee shop without saying anything because surely you’ll just start crying if you open your mouth. Oscar finds you again across the road, in a dark cobbled alleyway. The heel of your hand is pressed to the middle of your chest, you’re hiccuping, trying to stifle heavy sobs that you’d much prefer to let out in the privacy of your own apartment.

“Hey,” he says, gathering you into his arms before you can push him away, “It’s okay.”

You whine, collapsing into his chest, face pressing into his shoulder, “No, it’s not.”

You cry loudly, trying fruitlessly to keep the sobs in. Oscar’s hand rubs comforting circles into your back, which makes it better until you realise it’s Oscar, which makes it immediately worse. You stay there a while. Until your eyes are puffy and your throat sore.

“Better?”, Oscar asks, the crease between his eyebrows prominent.

You sigh tiredly, shrug, “Sure.”

Your coffee is cold now, your chest feels void, hollow.

You shake your head before Oscar can say anything further, before you’re set off on another fucking pathetic crying fit in the arms of your ex-boyfriend, “I can’t talk, Oscar. I really can’t.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding and swallowing some lump in his own throat.

You bite down hard on your tongue. Turn to leave the dark alley to go home, your back prickling with Oscar’s wet brown-eyed stare on you. He lets you leave. You spend the ten minute walk wiping tears before they fall and itching to run back, to kiss him, to pour all the emotion in your chest into some physical action.

There’s an awful grieving ache in your chest that’s carving out your insides and when you check your phone after walking in the door there’s a text from Oscar that reads:

I miss you. I’d really like to talk to you soon.

not sure if it was weird but the lord of the rings Mentions were kinda about how you’re in such a fragile state during a breakup that something as irrelevant to your break up at lord of the rings will make you cry for hours for no real reason. (and not to expose myself but after a break up i did watch the lotr trilogy two times in a row. told my friends and got a text from one of them asking if i was depressed 😭 like yes… temporarily alright)

send me a prompt/req + driver and i'll write something. pls check if my requests are open first 💖

[bones4thecats]

They Had A Nightmare Of The Overblot (PT. 2)

Type of Writing: Random Idea Name: They Had A Nightmare Of The Overblot Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia, and Grim + Yuu Sei Idea-Giver: Random Thoughts

A/N: Like in my past pieces, the reader is not MC/Yuu, they are a person coming from Twisted Wonderland. By the way, for Yuu and Grim's part, they are envisioning the overblot of Yuu's S/O. And, for Malleus' part, it is set in the future where he and the reader are married and have a child (the reader is not specified as female though)

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👑 As someone that tends to fills his day with many different things ranging from club duties to his work as a model and actor, Vil does not like to dwell on the past, to him it's necessary and can hold one back

👑 But, for some reason, the Great Seven seemingly disagreed with his coping mechanism

👑 You and Vil had begun to date one another a few weeks after his overblot, since you both grew up together in the Shaftlands, with your guardians working together in the movie business, but your guardian was a casting director while Eric Venue was an actor, you guys were very close growing up

👑 And because of how close you both were, seeing such a sight was something that not only scared him, but it scared you. You had watched your dearest friend become a, in other's words, monster

👑 Vil, before he blacked out, had seen your shocked and terrified face as you held Neige, trying to keep his afloat in the chaotic scene

👑 Thankfully, while he did come to his senses and become the same man you knew and loved, there was always a voice lingering in his head telling him that that incident proved how pathetic and weak he was. And how he could lose you easily to someone just like Neige

👑 These thoughts consumed his mind as he slept with you being coddled in his arms, your hands intertwined as your breaths began to slowly separate with Vil's speeding up and your slightly faltering at the feeling of air rushing past your ears

👑 Looking at your boyfriend over your shoulder, your eyes slightly widened at the sight of him, his face was contorting slightly as if he was going to cry but he was being forced to hold it in by fear

👑 Grabbing his face, you began to try waking him up. From shaking him to, somewhat, messing with his already messy hair, nothing was working, until you grabbed a small glass of water from your bedside table and splashed his face, making his eyes jerk open with shock

" Vil?! Hey, are you alright? You were jerking so much in your sleep and you looked like you were about to cry. I tried waking you up by shaking you but it wouldn't work- " " You're okay... " " What? " " Oh, thank the Great Seven that you're okay! "

👑 Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, Vil wrapped his arms tightly around you, tighter than he ever has before, making you let out a small gush of air from the pressure

👑 Holding you with his face burrowed into your neck as he lightly sobbed tears of joy, you sighed gently and hugged him right back. Your hands eventually reached up and began to massage his head and back, allowing him to drift back into a rest

👑 This time... there would be no dream of that fateful day and how you got that scar on your arm, it would be about you and his first date. The day he first realized he loved you...

👑 He's gonna kill you in the morning for splashing water on his face btw

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🎮 Unlike pretty much the rest of the boys, Idia doesn't fully hate his overblot. After all, he did gain his brother again, albeit a robotic version, but still

🎮 Though, every time he looks at Ortho, he remembers his overblot and the incident that happened when they were very young. And that makes him rethink everything. Also, don't get me started on when he looks at you

🎮 While he does think about how amazing and good-looking you are, he also thinks about the incident and how he sent a large shock at you and caused you to go into the infirmary for nearly an entirety of four weeks. And if scares him that he had done that to the only person who was there with him since the beginning, no death of anything occurring

🎮 Because of that event and how he had nearly harmed you to the point of being in a coma, Idia was very distant, holding to himself far worse than he ever did before. But, somehow despite these actions, you had accepted him and begun a relationship

🎮 For Idia, your relationship was built upon trust, loyalty, and honesty. Nothing else truly mattered to the male if he knew you would always be there and tell him the truth without him questioning it

🎮 One sign of his trust was allowing you to sleep in the same bed as him. And, in one of the first few times of this happened, disaster struck in the form of a nightmare

🎮 Hugging you tighter from behind as his eyes dodged in every direction underneath his closer eyelids, you awoke to his whimpers and very faint calls of your name and a mixture of pleases and no's

🎮 You had heard his eventual scream of a no and looked over at him in shock, he had never awoke so abruptly and harshly, even when he had nightmares of Ortho's death all those years ago, and that was scaring you enough, what had scared him so badly?

🎮 Opening your arms as he lunged in and hugged you tighter as if you were about to disappear, you began to hush him and hum a lullaby that his younger brother said he used to sing to him all the time when he had bad dreams growing up

" Y-Y/N, p-please don't leave me... not again... " " I won't, my love. I'm always going to be by your side, no matter what, okay? "

🎮 Nodding as you hugged him and pressed soft kisses to his temples, nose, forehead, and eventually to his somehow naturally blue lips, making him melt and hold one of your cheeks with his hands

" Now, how about we get some more sleep? You really need it. " " Ha-ha, funny... but, yeah. Sleep sounds really nice... "

🎮 Getting back under the covers, you instead of being the little spoon, allowing Idia to crawl into your arms as your legs tangled together comfortably. His breaths then calmed and became a steady sound as you rubbed his head and back to comfort him and remind him of your words

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🐉 Malleus was not proud of himself after the incident, how could he have let something like this cover his mind so thickly it could be compared to Lilia's cooking's stench?

🐉 Ever since he had overcome his emotional issues with the help of his dearest friend, Yuu Sei, and his friends and family members, you and him began your real relationship, courting and all

🐉 Now, he had never really dwelled on the past, to him, it would only hold someone back. Holding onto a grudge was something he wasn't fond of doing, so he tried to never do it. And, unfortunately, he had failed with this kind of grudge

🐉 Back to the point of this;

🐉 You could tell that Malleus was getting stressed with his work beginning to overflow, and despite the combined efforts of help from his father-figure, Lilia Vanrouge, and his closest friends, Silver and Sebek, he still had a lot left for him as the King of Briar Valley

🐉 His grip as he held you as you rest was also a tell-tale sign. His tail's grip was starting to make your leg fall asleep, which was what initially woke you up, and when he felt you touch his tail and left it, he had accidentally in his sleep knocked you away and knock a cup down, landing on the ground with a shockingly decent-sounding crash

🐉 Malleus' eyes erupted awake as he called your name, unnoticed tears falling from his eyes as his tail had rammed up and his horns slightly curved farther with growth

" My Spindle, are you alright?! Do you have any cuts, bruises, or any burns?! Oh no, please tell me I did not burn you... "

🐉 Burn you? What in the name of Twisted Wonderland was your husband raving about?

" Burn me? No, Malleus, your tail merely knocked me back into the cup. I'm perfectly fine! Are you okay? You have tears falling down your cheeks... " " Tears? Ah, I didn't notice those... but, yes, I am fine. "

🐉 Bullshit, you knew when your husband was internally hurting and every time you saw this habit of pushing something else ahead to distract you, you would get annoyed. Much like right now

" Malleus. I know when you aren't okay... don't start lying to me now. " " Father? Mommy/Daddy? What happened? " " Nothing, Diaval. Just go back to bed okay? " " Why is Father crying, Mommy/Daddy? " " Father just had a hint of a bad dream, like you and I do. Now, please darling, go back to your bed. " " Can I sleep with you guys for the night? " " Why? " " I- I don't remember which direction my room is... "

🐉 Malleus smiled gently and held out his hand to his first-born son and hugged him as you chuckled as your son threw up his small raven plushie and huddled himself underneath the sheets as you hugged him and Malleus wrapped his long tail around you both

🐉 Why was he so scared of what he had done in the past? Maybe it was because the last thing he saw was the slight burn marks you still had imprinted on your arms from protecting Yuu, or maybe it was because he needed to see something to remember... remember why his mother had gave her life for him

🐉 She did so so he could understand her, her love for her spouse and child... and while normally such a though would bring the fae to tears, Malleus couldn't help but lay a kiss to his son and spouse's heads as he hugged them, pledging his devotion over and over again...

🐉 It did not matter what had happened, what mattered was what was going to happen

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❤️‍🩹 -> MC/Yuu Sei ~ 😼 -> Grim ~ ・ -> Both Btw, the reader here is in Heartslabyul with Ace and Deuce

❤️‍🩹 Yuu, unlike his companion, had a very strict schedule of thinking when it came to the dark magic he had survived attacks from for the past few months at Night Raven College

❤️‍🩹 It was quite ironic really, because of his way of thinking and devotion to keeping his head high, he had attracted you, by far one of the nicest beings he had ever met in the new world... and really in his entire life

😼 Grim, on the other hand, had only gotten your attention because of how he treated your dorm leader, Riddle Rosehearts, with blatant disregard until he had punished him with his signature spell

😼 The feline had devolped a quick rivalry with you as well, well, a one sided rivalry that is, you didn't really hate the monster. In reality, you cared for the small thing as if it was your own sibling or child, gifting him small cans of tuna from now and then

❤️‍🩹 Your connection with Grim was something that Yuu loved, but, whenever he had seen you bending down you give Grim a can of tuna, your boyfriend couldn't help but see you in that god-awful form bending down above your old friend Cater about ready to attack

❤️‍🩹 He had never told you anything of it, preferring to keep such a vision to himself. He wouldn't want to worry you about his mind

Sadly for both of them, they would be forced to face their fears with the motivation of one thing; a nightmare with you nearby

😼 Your little friend had been curled up in your lap after eating to much for his lunch, mainly three cans of large tuna, and begun to take a long power-nap

😼 But, when you felt him begin to twitch far more than normal and feel the faint whimpers come off from his chest, you picked Grim up and excused yourself from your third-year allies and housewarden to deal with him

😼 Ushering him awake, Grim jumped and accidentally clawed your hand, making a small cut begin to bleed on your palm. And he could only sit there on the ground in your dorm-room, small yet bubbly tears falling down his cheeks

" Grim! Are you alright? " " I-I'm fine, Y/N. " " No you're not... Grim, I know when someone's lying, please don't make me add you to the list of liars. "

While getting Grim to admit his nightmares was fairly easy, getting your boyfriend to do so would be far harder

❤️‍🩹 Yuu was, in your opinion, a no-paid therapist for the entire school. Or, at least the main members of each dorm, from housewardens to their vices, he has spoken to pretty much all of them through their problems

❤️‍🩹 He never really has been so clean of energy that day in particular, from nearly getting hit on the head by Deuce's cauldron from running from Vil while housing Epel from his lessons that day, he just wanted to lay by his loving S/O and take a long hard rest for the night

❤️‍🩹 But, like a lot of things that year, even something has simple as that didn't work out for him. He had a complete nightmare of the overblots he had faced alongside you, and he had woken up in a shock right before a dangerous and death-worthy attack landed on you

❤️‍🩹 You had starred at him in shock from the ground you had fallen on and just rubbed your arm as you crawled back up and began to caress his arms and back in an attempt to calm him down as tears swarmed his eyes and began to leak

" Y/N? Oh God, you probably think I'm weak for crying about something so futile... " " Futile? Yuu Sei I have seen and heard a lot of things throughout my lifetime here in Twisted Wonderland, some of which I believe and some I do not. This is far from a futile thing to cry about. You just imagined the almost-happening death of someone you care for... like I have... and from the mighty words of my Godfather, Dire Crowley, 'In order to use magic just how you picture it, you need imagination. Some mages also find it useful to make a habit out of writing and drawing out their ideas, to train their ability to better materialize them'. " " What does that old bird's words have to do with this?... No offense! "

❤️‍🩹 Chuckling at his reaction, you gripped his hands in yours and said the following words that would forever lay resting in his mind before he slept every night

" In my words, ' In order to succeed in surpassing something, you must earn it. Whether it be from talking about it or writing it down in a journal of some sorts, letting such pains off your shoulders helps out a ton, whether you believe it or not.' " " Now I know that did not come from Crowley's mouth. "

❤️‍🩹 Laughing at your boyfriend's words, Yuu took it as an opportunity and lunged on you, wrestling playfully with you as you laughed while he tickled your sides... oh, what did you do to earn such a wonderful man?

[dragonsfictavern]

Reminiscent Nightmares

Astarion Ancunin x Durge!Reader

a/n: I am consumed with soft wordless sex. Total physical communication showcasing a couples intimate knowledge of each other. I love I love I love.

summary: After a nightmare of past pains you’ve inflicted, Astarion is right there to comfort you. While you feel as though you can’t talk about it, Astarion will be there for you in other ways until you can. He will always be there for you.

warning: MDNI +18 make outs, groping, soft p in v sex, clitoral stimulation. Nice and simple.

word count: 2K

Your brows furrow, shaking your head, even as you lay in a deep sleep. Squirming around in your bed a whimper escapes you as visions— no memories, whirl through your mind in a torturous loop. Pools of blood come in waves, crashing against the walls and flooding the vision of your dream. Endless faces pass the view of your eye, being presented with them all before they fall off to the side and another takes its place.

Kill after kill you’re reminded of every single one. Your mind not allowing you to forget about a second of the pain you inflicted on others. An unending stream of the damage you caused and the torture you brought upon others. All of it now coming back to you.

By the time you’ve gone through them all, you’re whimpering, tears streaming down your cheeks even though you remain asleep. Just when you think it’s over, when all is done, when you’ll finally be able to gain some release… one more head slowly floats through the river of blood.

The head slowly comes to a stop and the face that greets you is none other than Astarion’s.

You scream and a second later Astarion is shaking you awake. Your eyes shoot open and scatter around as you try and take in your surroundings, your breath is heavy with panic, and you can’t stop squirming as you feel your skin crawl. The idea of Astarion being gone, and worse by your hand, haunts your every waking thought.

When Astarion gently cups your jaw, bringing your gaze to his, you cry out at the sight of him, more tears streaming down your cheek. Astarion shakes his head, quietly shushing you in hopes to calm you down. Your tears seem unable to stop as your eyes move over his every beautiful feature. Your hands reach up, taking his face in your hold. Thumbs rubbing over smooth cheeks. You feel him. He is here. He is unharmed.

Your eyes catch onto your hands and you know that he is safe. He is safe in your embrace. You aren’t like that anymore. You don’t do those things anymore. Neither of you do. Ever since everything ended and you’ve both settled into your new lives in Baldur’s Gate. You would never hurt him, not then nor now. While there were some close calls you have full control. You’re positive.

Nothing will ever harm him. Not you or anyone. You two will spend your days protecting each other from whatever threat may come your way. You’re a team. You continue rotating through those thoughts, filling your mind with them as you inhale and exhale deeply, meeting Astarion’s worried gaze once more. His free arm moves around your waist and he brings you impossibly closer. The feeling of his body against yours furthers your comfort.

With time you eventually calm down, your breath slowing down and the panic dissipating. When fully relaxed against his body, Astarion’s eyes furrow in a silent question. You blink back, not wanting to even think about it right now. Not wanting to think about anything. So you lightly shake your head at him and his features drop just as quickly as his question, understanding you immediately.

Instead he uses his hold in your jaw to gently guide your lips to his, continuing to provide you with closeness and comfort. You inhale sharply through your nose as your lips collide. A small moan escapes you as you lean into his touch, lips simply connecting for a moment. But you both easily fall into a gentle rhythm as your lips caress each other lovingly.

Astarion’s hand slides into your hair and he uses it to pull you in closer, groaning as his mouth devours yours. Both of you quickly become swept up in the easy dance of your mouth’s movements. You whimper, everything Astarion being the only thing you can focus on. The only thing you can think about.

When he slowly brings you back down on the bed, hand on the back of your head for extra cushion, you moan again, flicking your tongue along the seam of his lips. Astarion rolls on top of you, legs cradling your hips as he opens his mouth to you. You both grin as you take turns teasing each other with your tongues. His actions meant to distract and comfort and you weren’t ashamed to say they were working.

Astarion slowly works to undress you both, taking his time, savoring the taste of your tongue on his. Only separating when you have to and then his lips are crashing back down on yours. You moan, softly pulling him down once he’s finished, your body shuddering to feel his cold skin brush along the heat of yours. The contrast sending sparks up your spine.

Your body arches into his as you feel his hand slowly making its way down your form. The sensation of his mouth and hands continuing to drive all worrying thoughts out of your head. Astarion takes his time with you, wanting to feel every groove and curve that makes up your body. His hand slips between you both once he reaches your hips.

A hiss escapes him and you feel his breath ghost across your face. Your brows furrow and you whimper, hips jolting up, knowing his next movements precisely. A moment later you feel the crown of his cock parting your folds. Your eyes snap open only to meet Astarion already looking down at you. A soft expression on his face as he gages your reactions, always making sure you’re ok. You do the same, reaching a hand to touch his cheek. You bring his forehead to rest against yours, taking a moment to connect with him emotionally.

You gasp as he teases the hole of your sex and your heart skips a beat at the slight quirk of his mouth. Which only grows wider once he hears the way your pulse instinctively reacts to him. Your moans rip through the silence as Astarion pushes inside of you with ease. Your eyelids drop as you let out a whine, the feeling of him entering you has your body filling with warmth.

Astarion easily moves straight into a languid pace, his length gliding through your wet heat as he works you open, stuffing you full of him. Your hands slide into his hair, foreheads remaining connected as he thrusts inside you. Both of you maintaining eye contact. The intensity of emotion in his gaze takes your breath away. He wants to be here for you. To look after you. And though you may not be ready to talk, he is right here to comfort you.

Your nose nuzzles against his in a silence appreciation, your chest blooming with even more love and devotion for this man. Astarion grunts, a low rumble in his chest at your sign of affection, before picking up his pace only slightly. You sigh at the feeling of his cock massaging your walls, head falling back slightly as hips roll into yours. Soon your body falls into rhythm with his, pushing back against every pump into your core.

A soft cry leaves you as he hits your G-spot. Arms tightening around him, you’re desperate to feel him close. Astarion’s hands squeeze at your waist while his cock leisurely pumps its way inside you. He nips at your jaw gently, wanting your attention back on him. Your breath stutters as your hips meet once again in a quiet smack. Tilting your head up you meet his gaze and his lips are immediately connecting with yours, causing you to groan.

Heat swirls at the bottom of your belly as you feel your orgasm begin to grow. Your hands softly play with Astarion’s curls as you kiss. Your lips moving in tandem with the steady rhythm of his pulsing length. The feeling sends your heart racing and your skin tingling. An easy passion falls over you both like a thick cloud, blocking away the rest of the world and all that remains of you and Astarion.

You whimper against his lips, mind growing hazy as you’re lulled by his soft lips and the occasional nip of his fangs. Your nerves are on fire, your entire body prickling over as you savor each time he fills you. With the building pressure within you, you know you’re getting closer and closer to your climax. Astarion groans, feeling the way your muscles tense underneath him, feeling how your body radiates heat those moves through him and drives him with a need he’s only ever truly felt with you.

His hands caress your thighs, soothing out the slight twitching occurring as you find yourself just on the edge. Then a hand is moving to the apex of your thighs, his diligent fingers quickly finding your clit. Your jaw drops slightly and he uses this to his advantage, tongue slipping into your mouth to brush along yours. Your body jolts into his touch and you melt against the slow circles applied to your bundle of nerves.

It only takes a few more soothing strokes before your walls are fluttering around his cock and you’re falling off the edge, your release coating his cock. You moan loudly and Astarion swallows it all down, mouth latching down on your tongue and sucking lightly. Your body shudders in response, making the slight shaking of your body all the more worse as your orgasm moves through you in gripping shockwaves.

You clench down on Astarion, not even aware of your actions as your release consumes you. Astarion grunts, his stomach clenching and with a few stuttering thrusts, he sinks down inside you before spilling himself. Your eyes roll back into your head and you gently grind against him, milking him for every last drop.

Both of you rock into each other slowly, helping each other ride out your highs. Your kisses grow lazy, mouths smacking together, unable to stay away for longer than a few moments. Your eyes flutter as you desperately try and stay awake. Astarion watches you, his own eyes half-lidded, a storm of powerful emotions brewing in the depths of his red gaze. Yet you don’t back away from it, instead lulled into its embrace.

Astarion rolls you both onto your sides once you’ve both calmed down. He keeps you connected as he draws you tight against his chest. You breathe deeply, your body relaxed, contentment now coursing through you as you lay in Astarion’s arms. Both of you protected. Both of you safe. You slowly begin to fall asleep, grateful for your love and the way he flawlessly has come to understand you.

A moment later you feel a hand rest on the back of your head and your body jolts a bit, the touch waking you up more. Astarion shushes you gently, leaning in to press calming kisses across your brow. You hum and snuggle back in closer to him, accepting every kind of comfort he’s been giving you since your dream rousted you two up. It was only when he started to kiss your forehead did you realize you still remain partially tense. But with his lips on your skin your body completely melts into his and you fall into a dreamless sleep without issue.

Astarion stays by your side, not wanting to get up or move away from you. Watching over you as you rest and hoping the night passes by without anything else waking you. He knows you will talk to him once the morning comes. Share your concerns and let him be there for you in that way as well. He will always be there for you so long as you wish him and doesn’t mind having to prove so. Looking down at you and thinking this all through, he can’t help but lean in and nuzzle into your hair. He closes his eyes, for even if he won’t really sleep, he’ll bask in the act if it means lying with you.

[junkissed]

better than breakfast

member — jun x f reader genre — smut word count — 1.1k synopsis — what's the best thing to eat to start the morning off right? hint: it's not food. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, oral (reader receiving), fingering, not quite somnophilia (reader is already awake but very sleepy), soft dom!jun and he is a menace notes — requested by @jaemlonfz — jun drives me so fucking insane and crazy and senile i could not help it. this is one thousand consecutive words about jun eating pussy and nothing else! thanks to @onlymingyus & @highvern for helping me decide on the banner. enjoy

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the first thing you see when you open your eyes the next morning is jun laying on top of you.

he's a little more awake than you are, smiling at you with a soft mischief in his eyes as he leans down to kiss your cheek.

you don't try to move, too sleepy and still tangled in each other from the night before to make an effort, until jun starts to slide down your body wordlessly.

he stops with his chin resting gently below your collarbone as he waits for a signal to continue or not, and he takes it as a sign when you whine his name, so softly that it's barely audible.

your brain doesn't process the warm glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains, nor does it notice the faint chirping of birds outside. at this hour of the morning, all you can focus on is how soft jun's hands are, his touch so delicate yet so deliberate, grazing over your skin with purpose.

you sigh lazily, eyes still closed as his hands wander down your body. he leaves a trail of slow kisses down your neck, making his way down past your breasts. he pauses there for a moment, hands sliding over your sides and taking your nipple into his mouth when you arch your back towards him.

he looks up at you with a mischievous look in his eyes, watching in satisfaction as you lean your head back against the pillows, mouth hanging open in a quiet moan.

his fingers trace over your soft skin, traveling lower down your stomach before he finally slides down all the way and disappears under the covers.

he settles between your legs, gently pushing your thighs apart as he presses his face against your cunt, feeling the heat radiating from your body.

his tongue darts out to lick up through your folds slowly, moaning softly at the taste of your arousal already dripping from you. 

he tilts his head to kiss your pussy, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking lightly. you gasp and whine under his touch as he grips your thighs, spreading them further apart to give himself more room.

as loud and talkative as you usually are in bed, this morning you can't get a single word out, breath sticking in your throat and brain still cloudy with sleep. jun consumes your thoughts the same way he consumes your pussy; the only thought racing through your mind is his name, over and over again, and how fucking divine it feels to wake up to his warm mouth all over your body.

he flattens his tongue against your entrance, taking his time to savor you as you continue to squirm against his hold. no matter how much you wriggle in pleasure in his grasp, he's too dedicated to his cause to let you escape, keeping his lips firmly and eagerly connected to your cunt.

his mouth works languidly, yet even with the slow pace he still manages to send you into a frenzy, the gentle stimulation making your body shiver. you're still barely awake, your vision blurry as you try to focus on what's happening beneath the sheets.

you push the covers down desperately, revealing the top half of jun's head peeking out from between your legs. he glances up at you, and you can tell just by the crinkles around his eyes that he's smiling, clearly enjoying every second of this. you can't help but let out another low whine, your muscles clenching at the sight of him, messy hair sticking up from his head at odd angles as he devours you.

he looks like a dream as he shifts his position, kneeling between your legs and bowing his head like he's worshipping you. he moves his face so that the tip of his nose is pressed against your clit, the light pressure sending your already haywire brain into overdrive at the feeling.

you moan again as he slips two fingers inside your hole, relishing in the sweet whimpers you let out and the way your legs try to close around his head, thighs squeezing him with all your might. 

he finally pulls his mouth away and angles his hand into you, pressing his palm against your clit as he curls his fingers inside you. you pry open your eyes at the loss and see the way his face is drenched in you, glistening in the light.

he presses his lips against your skin, leaving slow kisses below your belly button and along the inside of your thighs as he continues to bend his fingers upwards. he grins at the way you clench around his fingers, coating him in your slick as you cry out his name in a weak voice.

he repositions his hand again, making space for him to lean down and flick at your clit with his tongue. both your hands shoot down to grip his hair, pulling on it so tightly you figure it's gotta hurt his scalp, but you know he likes that and he doesn't ask you to stop so you don't hold back. you squeeze your legs even tighter around him, shamelessly pushing his face deeper into your pussy as you grind your hips up against his face.

he lets out a little groan at the feeling and it sends vibrations through you, your whole body tensing up. and suddenly all the air leaves your throat as you cum, his tongue never letting up as you fall off the edge. his warm lips wrap around your clit and he sucks roughly, determined to keep going until you have to physically pry his face away from your pussy, gasping for air.

he shuffles back up the bed to lay next to you, wrapping his arms around your trembling body and pulling you close to his chest with a satisfied smirk. you let out a shaky sigh and bury your face in neck, your orgasm finally beginning to wake you up.

he grins, holding you with one arm and wiping his mouth against the back of his other. “much better than breakfast.”

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[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 9 - ( c.s )

part eight

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- angst, swearing, i think that’s it

a/n: i’m back my little goblins let’s get it!!!! part ten of this series will be the final part, and then i plan on writing an ‘epilogue’ type chapter to wrap it all up. i’m hoping to have them up as quickly as possible, but ive been absolutely slammed so im sorry if it takes me a minute. i love u always and i’ve missed being on here so i hope you enjoy <3

(if you asked to be tagged in the last part and weren’t tagged it’s bcs it wouldn’t let me!! i’m so sorry i tried my hardest)

to be let down, you have to expect something from someone. it’s a mistake you’ve made far too frequently in your years on earth, especially in college, but this time around the grief is debilitating.

you spend the rest of your weekend locked inside your room, attempting to sleep away the heartbreak. somehow dreaming almost makes it worse; for a second you’re able to forget about being completely humiliated, until you wake up in reality once more.

it doesn’t help that chris has been absolutely blowing up your phone since the moment you left. every call and text goes unanswered. it’s impossible to read them, so most of the time you don’t.

hell, you can’t even open your curtains because you’re too scared that he’ll be looking back at you when you do. so you block out the sunlight, ensuring that your room matches your dreary feelings.

you figure he’ll give up on trying to talk to you eventually. you’re not different. he’s not different. and once chris regains that pride of his, he’ll go right back to fucking some other girl he won’t care about half as much.

thoughts like those make you cry even harder, as much as you hate it. but you know the disinterest will wash over him sooner or later, and you resent that inevitable day.

cassidy and ramona check on you pretty much every other hour. it makes you feel even worse that they’re so concerned, but neither of them have ever seen you like this. at least not since freshman year, when you dated an upperclassman for a couple months just for him to dump you over text.

even that heartache was relatively short-lived. but this pain follows you into the week, trailing behind you like a shadow you can’t get rid of. it sits beside you in class, curls up next to you in bed, weighs your shoulders down whenever you walk.

it feels like you’re struggling to stay afloat, to even act like a real human anymore. chris consumes your brain, and so do the ‘what if’s’ of your situation. it makes the week drag on, even though you try to spend most of it asleep.

to make matters worse, his multiple notifications continue with a routine consistency, almost like clockwork. you figured he’d already be over it, but he clearly doesn’t want to make himself easy to forget.

you have to admit that you’re glad his persistence lasted at least this long, even if it’s for selfish reasons. you’re disgusted that the attention satisfies you, but it’s not an unwelcome change considering all you’ve been feeling lately is queasy.

still, you don’t read them, or pick up when he calls. you can’t hear his voice, because you know it’ll absolutely break you.

and then finally, on friday, you see him in the flesh. you’re walking home from your bus stop after the only lecture you managed to get to that day, and there he is, getting out of his car.

your throat seizes up; there’s no way to avoid this. it’s easy to ice someone out over text, but it’s a hell of a lot harder when he’s your neighbor.

before you can snap your head away he’s turning to look in your direction, eyes equally as wide as yours once the recognition washes over him. he looks like shit, and yet he’s still so goddamn beautiful it makes you physically sick.

for a brief moment, everything stops. you just stare at each other.

chris takes in you in, the way you look noticeably drained. he feels that familiar nauseous pang in his stomach flare up, knowing that he stole the spark from your eyes.

the worst part is that you’ll never look at him with that fire again. there’s nothing he can do to bring it back now, no way to reverse the past.

then—before he can decide what to do in the present—you break the spell, cutting through your other neighbor’s lawn to get to your front porch. everything in him wants to run after you, so much so that he has to physically restrain himself.

you hear him calling after you, and something about him shouting your name stirs the tears awake once more. but you make it through the door before they fall, because you can’t show any more vulnerability than you already have.

getting inside doesn’t mean that you make it up the stairs, though. the physical and emotional exhaustion catches up to you, and you collapse around halfway through your blurry climb to your room.

your elbows dig into your kneecaps, hands holding your head while you sob. it seems impossible to catch your breath, or calm down in the slightest, and your cries only grow louder.

normally you’d be careful about the noise, but there’s no one to hide from right now. nobody is home. it’s just you and your thoughts, which, as always, are full of him.

you may be able to push him out of your life, but you have a feeling he’ll be lingering in the corners of your mind forever.

the post-game locker room mood is completely miserable tonight. after that last minute loss and the thirty minute bitch-session they just endured from their coach, it honestly should be.

chris barely even has his skates off before his teammates are all over him, which he expected but still dreaded.

his head’s not in it, and everybody knows.

“what the fuck is wrong with you, man? it’s like you’re not even awake out there.” one of the team’s leading defensemen, luke, yanks him up by his jersey roughly.

for a second he pauses, setting his jaw and puffing his chest out slightly. the accusation, though it’s not completely untrue, pisses him off.

so much so that chris retaliates by shoving him back to his rightful place a foot away. “get the hell off of me, man.”

luke looks like he’s ready to jump into action again, but connor steps in between before anything else can happen. he’s also very visibly angry, a side that doesn’t come out often.

and just because he stopped a physical fight from breaking out doesn’t mean he’s going to stay silent. “he’s right. you’re playing like shit, and we‘re way too far into the season to be blowing it now, especially with selection show right around the corner.”

chris can feel his blood is boiling at this point, knowing that even his roommate is going to support this kind of disrespect towards his own captain. the rest of the team is watching silently, but he can’t find it anywhere in himself to care.

the words have already bubbled up, and he won’t hold them back anymore.

“oh come on, it’s not like anyone else was stepping up! dylan turned the puck over every other play, ben was offside during that odd man rush, and don’t even get me started on you and the high sticking penalty that just lost us that fucking game.” he shoves his pointer finger against connor’s chest for emphasis, trying to make sure his criticism stings as much as possible.

but his friend is quick to swat his hand away, shaking his head once sharply.

“no, you don’t get to turn it on everyone else. you lost it for us during that sorry excuse of a penalty kill. you let that little UMass shit go right by you, which is why he had a wide open shot to score the game winner. you’ve been making dumb mistakes like that for two weeks now, and we all know why.”

that implication is enough to send chris over the edge, because nobody has the right to mention what happened between you and him. knowing about the situation doesn’t mean they should get to speak on it.

he can feel his fingernails digging into his palms, both hands balled into tight fists at his side. the anger coursing through his body makes him shake ever so slightly, almost like he’s humming.

“keep going and i’ll bust your fucking face in.” chris says, voice eerily calm despite the fact that his body is screaming.

but connor doesn’t back down; he stands tall with an unwavering gaze that’s more serious than ever before. “you gotta grow a pair and start being our captain again. you fucked up, and losing someone you’re actually into because of that sucks. most of us have been there. but trying to throw everyone under the bus is bullshit when you’re the one that needs to get it together.”

nothing about his words are intentionally meant to hurt, and chris knows that, but for some reason they do. probably because he doesn’t want to hear the truth, or start coming to terms with the fact that he actually did lose you.

he really doesn’t ever want to accept it.

but his ego won’t let him say that. instead, chris shifts his gaze to observe the rest of the room, at all of his teammates, before focusing on connor once again.

“if you don’t think that i’m your captain anymore then find a new one.” he spits.

the room somehow gets even more quiet; everyone is stunned by the out-of-character reaction. for the most part, chris really is a good leader. they all voted for him to represent the team when it came time, and the group dynamic has been great since then.

but he doesn’t feel like that guy now. he’s not sure who he is anymore. so he throws the rest of his equipment into his bag and yanks it over his shoulder.

“really, chris?” it’s ben this time, who’s clearly dumbfounded by the theatrics.

he doesn’t respond, and he tries not to hesitate too much as he makes his way out of the locker room. everyone lets him pass, which makes it even harder to leave.

it feels so wrong, but his feet keep pushing him forward regardless.

when chris finally makes it home twenty minutes later, the frustration has only festered. he doesn’t like anything he’s doing, and yet it’s spiraling out of his control. by the time he gets to his room, tears of aggravation have made their way down his face.

he wipes them away harshly as he stares out his window at your room, which is still closed off by your curtains. it’s like his heart seizes up just from being this close to you, knowing that you’re in there yet he can’t reach you.

and maybe that’s the problem. chris loves hockey, but at the end of the day he clearly loves you more. and with things the way that they are, his heart is fully wrapped up in you, not the game.

it’s terrifying, and it’s painful. he never thought that there’d be anyone to test his bachelor lifestyle until you came around, and he can’t just go back to normal because he doesn’t know how.

he’s been permanently changed, and it feels like a huge part of his new life is suddenly missing.

you saw the deepest parts of him, parts that he didn’t even know existed, and he saw the same side of you. you challenged him in ways he’d never experienced, and he loved that he always felt like he was evolving when you were together.

now he just feels stagnant, unsure of himself.

the only thing he’s sure of is that he needs you, whether that makes him inconsiderate or not. he can’t keep sleepwalking through life, but he’s not sure what else there is to do.

simply put, he misses you like hell. so he lays back in bed and closes his eyes, trying to remember what it felt like to have you right beside him.

@fawnchives @l9vesick @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @impureals @chrisactualwife @fikefries @riasturns @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18 @realqueenofpepsi @snowysosturn @secretfangirly @scarlettbitches @satvisfavetoodles

[blingblong55]

The shadow's obsession- Philip Graves NSFW

Based on a request:

Erm...sweats nervously Obsessive stalker! Graves x reader... 🧍🏻‍♀️ "As soon as he saw you he knew that he needed to know everything about you. Every dirty little secret, every private thought and every small detail about you. But of course, talking to you wouldn't do the trick entirely, he needed something more. He's read every file that's ever been written about you. He has your birth certificate, your license, your every text and call you've ever made, every post made on social media, everything. Hes hacked every device so he can watch what you search during the day and what you're doing. He knows things about you that even you don't know about." Drops this and runs away🏃🏻‍♀️ (I moved on from Makarov now it's time for graves 💯💯 I love ur writing sm!! Er i usually request anon cause I request too much..😞😞 YK the popsicle Makarov fic? Requested that anon to.. and also the one where Makarov apologized with money...but now I moved on to graves no more Makarov new year new character 🙏🙏)

---- F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, obsessive!Graves, neighbour!Graves, stalker!Graves ----

A/N: Not much smut to be honest, so please don't expect to be fucked in this one....so...yeah.....

Philip sits in the dimly lit flat, one he owned only to be close to you. In his home, there is a room that is filled with screens and various feeds from the hacked devices you owned. How could he not do this? You are such a beautiful thing, of course, he had to keep his eyes on him. You're an obsession. An obsession that consumed him, every moment of his existence revolves around you. From the first time he laid eyes on you, he knew you were the one. But, this isn't love in the traditional sense; it's a dark and twisted obsession that gnaws at his soul. 

He had developed deep into your life, souring every corner of the internet for information about you. Birth certificates, licenses, social media posts– nothing escaped his grasp. He knows you better than anyone, even more than you know yourself, or so he believes. 

Every text, every call, every search query you ever made was meticulously logged and analyzed by him. He watched you from the lens of your own devices, a silent observer in your little world. He knows your routines, fears, and desires and he relishes in the power this gives him over you. 

To you, he was just your overly friendly neighbour. He was the man you called when help was needed inside your flat. 

His obsession only grew stronger with each passing day, fueled by the way you spoke, and the way your eyes glimmer as you looked at him. It wasn't that you were just being kind, right?

But he wanted you to know him. To know that he is more than just a neighbour, he can be more. He is more. 

He was happy this way though, he knew it all. He knows you're single, he knows your body like no other. Hell, he knows your scent, the way your legs shake when you reach your climax and how you try and suppress the moans. He dreams of the day he would finally have you all to himself when you'd see how much he loves you. 

But until the day you know how he feels for you, he'll just remain in his bubble. He'll lay in bed, take in the scent of your panties, the same ones he stole, and look at the videos he has of your showering, touching yourself and moaning. For you're his everything, his reason for living in a world consumed by darkness. 

As days turned to weeks and the weeks into months, his obsession with you only intensified. He found himself unable to tear his gaze from you, his every waking thought consumed by your presence. He began to lose himself in fantasies of what it would be like to finally sleep by your side, to hold you in his arms and whisper his darkest desires into your ear. 

But even as he dreamed of a future where he had you, he knew his fantasies were just delusions of his own making. He is addicted to the thrill of watching you, to the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins every time you appeared on one of his screens. You're a drug. 

The same drug that has his fist around his throbbing cock. Moans escape the same ones that call for you. Pre-cum leaks down his shaft. Your panties by his nose. What an addicting scent you have. In his screen, he has you, fingering and playing with that sweet pussy. Your moans and whimpers are all for him to enjoy. As you play with one of your nipples, he finds himself wishing to be the one to worship those precious tits of yours.

He only allows himself to cum when you do. That's the one rule and it's all so he can be prepared for when he has you right in front of him.

Times go on, men you've met disappear, and one by one they mysteriously leave town. 

5 in the morning and there you went, regular morning walk, same streets, same speed and always listening to the same playlist. Those thighs of yours, only made his hands want to explore every inch of them. Leave his marks on them for all to see. 

His train of thought gets interrupted when he sees a man approach you. Graves, being the man he is, always kept his distance from you as you jogged, never trying to engage with you but rather just watching to understand you. This time, he can't just let this man be close to you. Who is he? He certainly isn't someone you know, Graves would've known if you were talking to this man. 

Your soft voice fills his ears as you smile and talk with this stranger. Your smile is as beautiful as day but why must you insist on smiling to this man? Philip is right there, why can't he have all your smiles? Love him. Love him. Love him. LOVE him. Love HIM. LOVE HIM. LOVE HIM Y/N!

"Love me," he whispers as he approaches you. "Oh, hi," you softly say as you recognise your neighbour. "Hey, who is this?" A little too forward, no? He thinks. "This is," you turn to the man. "Robert," he answers with a kind smile. "Ah, I see, well, I'm Philip," he says as he stands closer to you. 

An awkward conversation later and Philip finally has you where he wanted. Sitting on a bench as you two talk, something he rarely got to do. "And my mum was a teacher, that's where the nickname came from," you mention casually. Of course, he knew this, he knows it all, remember? "And for a pretty lady like you, it suits you," he compliments and with barely any notice from you, he scoots closer. 

If only you knew he has all he needed to know in files. A man like him is organised. He just wants to know if you'd ever lie. Do you? 

An hour passed, shared laughter, more than small talk and he knew it well. You were a person who told the truth. Oh, what a darling of a girl you are. 

With smooth talk, he tells you to join him for dinner. Not an ask, he knows you like men who know what they want. It's the same thing he heard you tell your friends over the phone. 

Once he makes it back to his place, after dropping you at your flat, he sits in his room, watches and listens as you tell your friends about him. A smile creeps into his lips. "That's right, darlin' tell 'em, let 'em know about the man who will own that every needy heart," he says to himself. 

With time, the more you spend with him, the more he finds himself pleased with the idea of how you feel inside. He wishes to know what exactly excites you about him. Sure he knows you blush when he drops you off at your place and kisses your cheek, but does his accent excite you? Does the idea of him being such a gentleman bring butterflies to you? Do you like how he knows your favourite treats? 

Why is he so perfect? You ask yourself. How come he knows that you love to watch rom-coms? How does he know you cry over romance scenes? Why does he kiss you in the rain? Why does he know you smile so much because you always wanted that? Why does dancing in the rain make you excited? Are you falling in love? 

Oh....you are in love, aren't you? Is this why you asked him to have a casual date? It's why he's now holding you in his arms as you two watch 'How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days' right? 

Do you love him?

Do you love me? He thinks when you look up at him. Your heart racing as he smiles. His hands cup your so sweet face, "Yes, darlin'?" How does he know you this well? You lean in and kiss him. What a sweet thing. 

From here on, not only does he obsess over you, but he worships you. You're the newfound religion. You're the sun and he the planets. 

There is something so dark and twisted, something so macabre that it almost makes his love holy. 

You are what the shadows love. 

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[neonovember]

dating carmen

a carmen berzatto headcanon for all of us feening for season 2

i must admit I was bored at the start of bear and than the next few minutes I was immediately hooked! carmen is such a unique character with so many layers I’d love to uncover as the seasons progress, but for now these are all coming from the depths of my mind :)

I’ve consumed about all the bear content tumblr has to offer so it’s only right I add to the shallow pool, even though this was pure self indulgence

carmy x reader inserts below!

we all know that Carmen has little to no experience with relationship, so the beginning of yours does not come without challenges. It’s hard for him, he barely registers his own emotions much anyone else’s, but in a way he has this subconscious itch in his mind to constantly know if your okay, to ask about your day, it becomes second nature with you.

Carmen refuses to call you by your actual name, often replacing it with honey, baby girl, sweetheart and with the way that accent glides over those words like honey you can’t bring yourself to protest

Carmen has never really thought of having kids, building a family or being tied to someone forever but sometimes, when he sees you fluttering around the apartment you both share, or giggling with richie's daughter he can’t help but imagine building something like that with you, some time. he doesn't doubt that if he did every have children, you would be the mother of his kids. he has visions of it, dreams where you have a gorgeous girl he would hold close or a mini mickey running around, he has to forget it though, he’s just not ready.

Carmen barely ever eats, despite being a chef, most of the things he consumes is easily accessible and in turn flavourless and unsatisfying. but after you come into his life, you practically force him to eat every time you see him, until carmen begins to eat whenever you're near. You can’t lie, it heals something in you

let’s also talk about the totally canon time where you were up late writing one night and carmen had just come back from the beef, tiptoeing through the corridor to not wake you up until he sees you sprawled out on the couch. there’s this tension that leaves his soldiers and he wastes no time taking his shoes off and sliding under the blankets, burying his tired body into yours, grease stained shirt and all but you don’t mind. you’d scratch and brush back his hair and he’d groan in bliss, closing his eyes before you would ask him that fateful question. carmen feels guilty every time he replies with the same 2 letter word, but every time you tell him that it’s part of being his. he couldn’t lie when he felt his jeans tighten at that sentence.

continuing onto that vision, despite your amateur cooking skills, you whip up something quick for Carmen that is actual sustenance and Carmen has to force his eyes open to watch you as you cook, completely and forever enraptured by you. and this man is crazy with his eye contact so imagine it with someone he loves. it’s inSANE

feeding carmen when he’s back from the beef and is too tired to lift a hand. he’s just murmuring ‘I love yous’ repeatedly between bites and you can’t help but giggle. he’s so delirious from lack of sleep all he can form are words that have been written into his tongue like muscle memory

as we see carmen, dealing with his anxiety and unresolved trauma is often terrorised by night terror and ptsd, and that kind of causes him to have this fear of you finding out somehow, whether that be by staying over or him falling asleep next to you, it all comes to a head one night when exactly that happens, and when carmen realise you haven’t stared at him in judgement or left with the door wide open it’s like everything changes. he’s finally found someone that accepts him fully, with all his jagged ends and sharp corners and he is gone at that moment. he is totally and completely head over heels in love with you.

after that revelation you are spending most nights over at his apartment, and whilst the nightmares are still there, as they might always be, there is a relief when he wakes up and feels the beat of your body rubbing circles gently across his back

the progression of your relationship with carmen happens a bit like falling asleep, slow at first and then all at once. it doesn’t take long for Carmen to confess his love to you, in that awkward yet charming way of his, and it takes even shorter after that for you to move in with him

speaking of, carmen probably fell in love with you the second he saw you, that glow that shone in a place that wasn’t the beefs kitchen, he just couldn’t quite actualise or express his feelings

he’s probably hear Tina or Ebra teasing you about a guy they had seen you with, which was no one but your cousin, and carmen would feel this burn across his chest that sinks his stomach, and then we would just know. you would be noticing the change in his demeanour at the mention of a guy connected to you, he’ll the whole kitchen did, especially when Tina would give you a look when he chastised everyone to ‘get back to work because this place isn’t gonna run itself’

I heard someone post about washing carmen’s hair and just- yes. he’s too exhausted to even eat so washing carmen’s hair would be a frequent thing. you’d always have to do it at night though because carmen would sneak a hand around your waist and hoist you up and then proceed to fuck you against the tile walls. You couldn’t be late, he couldn’t be late. For the 100th time.

carmen is touch starved, and that makes him so incredibly needy, you don’t mind however, because you're as touch starved as him. there are times where he comes home and just reaches for you, mumbling incoherent words before just grabbing your hips and making you straddle him on the living room coach. he’s so sensitive and blissed out then, even the slightest thrust of your closed core against his tight jeans leaves him whimpering

oh yeah carmen whimpers, I mean are you kidding? Look at that man

carmen, despite not having many relationships under his belt, is ridiculously, I mean concerningly good at eating your pussy. this man will spend hours, edging you, nibbling on your inner thighs, licking and sucking before thirsting a finger and tongue into you with no warning. he knows every single inch of your body, he’s got it memorised, he dreams about it in the office, on his smoke breaks, in the kitchen, hell especially in the kitchen. getting hard all over again when he remembers the sweet taste of you on his tongue, and how you fell apart with his name on yours.

you think carmen is needy during sex? he’s a whole other thing after, this man will keep his cock buried in you long after your highs, until it gets soft and uncomfortable, and even then he needs you close to him, holding you tight against his chest or having you rest your cheek on his collarbone

bear hugs. lots and lots of bear guys. there's something about carmen’s arms that just make you feel so soft and warm wrapped up in them

carmen really likes how you smell, its almost primal (ehm anthtony bridgerton) he loves washing his body with you scented body wash, even if cousin would tease the fuck out of him for smelling like strawberries, carmen just shakes his head and smiles at the reminder that he is completely and utterly yours.

carmen isn't that rambunctious with his displays of affection, it's subtle, like making you coffee before he leaves or getting down to tie your shoes for you, but it's genuine. it's unique to him, it’s carmen. he'd probably design a dish based on you without realising how goddamn romantic that is. i imagine him calling you to the kitchen and getting you to try something, little scribbled notes written on paper and a little notebook with written and rewritten recipes and you'd ask what it is and he'd reply with "you" and then idk he’d maybe ask you to marry him

carmy would be an absolutely emotional mess on your wedding day, it's partly because he didn't think he'd have a life that included one, and partly because couldn't wrap his head around you actually saying yes. He’s crying when you both wake up on that morning, hes crying when you both sneak away to see each other before the altar, he's crying when he sees you walking down, you've got a box of tissues attached to your dress for him

carmen is a perfectionist, he has this insatiable need to make things beyond perfect, his work is his passion and that need seeps into most of life. however, a lot of the times things in your relationship don’t go right, and it’s mostly why he has never really given his all to one, he’s scared he’ll fuck it up and once that happens you cant start again, you can’t redo the recipe with a new batch. But carmen, slowly, very slowly, learns that things don't have to be perfect, they just have to be real.

You're carmen's unofficial official taste tester. One snowed in night, you and carm just stayed up all night, designing and tweaking recipes and new dishes for the bear, with carm mostly doing the designing and you being his very scrutinising critic

carmy loved whatever you called him, i think he kind of froze the first time you called his name, but he especially loves it when you call him by his full name. everyone else kinda has the same nickname for him but he loves that you call him by something only you do, because he will always call for you

And oh my god if you call him ‘husband’ after you get married? It does something unholy to him

carmen is constantly searching for you, he gets anxious when you aren't around or when your late, you are his best friend beyond his lover and the only person he can truly feel at ease with, the crew are his family as they are yours but there is so much that he bottles that he can only express to you during those nights under light of the moon and sweat covered sheets.

you take everything carmen gives, and there is so much that he does, but it was not always that easy, loving carmen was hard, it was frustrating and overwhelming and carmen is forever trying to give you the love he could not those first few months where he closed himself off to you

sometimes, your heart aches so much with the love you have for carmen, and carmen sometimes feels like he's wading through a current when he thinks of you, he just wants to give into the rush of love and adoration that overwhelms him. its personified in every vessel of his life, he's got polaroids of you stuck to his car mirror, in his wallet, he's got your necklace around his neck and drinks from your mug, you ruined him for anyone else, and he can't imagine his life without you, your scent, your hair products and bring pink toothbrush all over it.

[honey-milk-depresso]

“He wonders…” TWST boys dreaming about their crush (Scarabia)

| Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde (literally just Idia) | Diasomnia

Kalim al Asim

Kalim’s a big daydreamer, especially in class and dreams even more in his sleep about touching the skies while riding on his flying carpet, his fingers touching the skies as he sees dozens of rainbows over the horizon leading him to a secret paradise only he knows. Before he could even reach, his “journey” is usually cut short when the professor or Jamil wakes him up.

However, the moment he fell for you, it seems that his journeys in Daydream Land becomes more vibrant, colourful, airy and fantastical with you beside him: smiling just as gleefully as he is while embracing each other on his flying carpet. It truly is a whole new world, the skies and oceans are a shining, shimmering splendid to behold, much like yourself.

Kalim visibly pouts when he gets wakened up from his dreams about you. Why did they have to cut his journey short like this? Don’t they know it’s rude to just abruptly leave you behind when you were so happy? Regardless, Kalim continues to think of you with an airy smile adorned on his face, love-stricken by the idea that maybe you could be with him on his magic carpet to fly to somewhere only the two of you know.

What’s more is that Kalim would love to believe that you too, maybe just a tiny chance, that you also went on those adventures with him on his flying carpet, or talking with his parrot, seeing fireworks together in each other’s embrace or sneaking away in the middle of the night to dance the night away in his garden palace as the stars watch you both with content.

But even Kalim gets shy when you come around, it seems that he can’t ask you to join him just yet. As bubbly as he is, something makes him hesitate and holds him back. Perhaps the normal nervousness of asking your crush out? It’s most probably so.

If you could, maybe you should offer to ride on his flying carpet with him. Maybe you help him make his dream come true. <3

Jamil Viper

It’s not obvious, but like Kalim, Jamil dreams big. He dreams of travelling around the world, exploring and discovering exotic places, plants and whatever that catches his eye… that’s almost everything he dreams of. Unlike Kalim, however, he pushes his dreams aside when it comes to college, opting to focus on his work.

That’s why he hates you. No, he loves you, but he hates you. He hates how you invade his mind and creep into his thoughts and make him subconsciously doze off as a result. It’s harder to focus when all you do is accompany him to the ends of the world, hand in hand as you explore every nook and cranny Mother Nature has to offer. He realises that all his dreams with you have been nothing but romantic. All he does is dream of you loving him and him loving you.

He knows, that’s hard to believe (oh, little does he knows…), but he can’t help it. Jamil hates it, but at the same time he loves it. He groans in annoyance, flustered on his bed after he awakened from his dream of you and him dancing alone in the dance studio. Love is just so complicated, even for a smart boy such as himself. But that’s just what love does to us, and he is no exception.

Jamil tries to tone it down, but he feels his cheeks flaring when you approach him with a smile, triggering his memory of the same smile you gave him in his dream albeit more lovey-dovey than platonically. Jamil has never wanted to be consumed by the earth that badly before. Damn.

He loves you, but he’s scared that if he tells you, you either don’t love him back or he might make your life worse due to his family situation, but it hurts to only dream of everything he ever wanted only to wake up to realise it wasn’t real. Please, take his hand, promise him that no matter where you go with him, you will always have your hand in his, going to wherever whenever. He will love you to the ends of the earth, and I hope you do, too. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

And hi! In the midst of preparing for Nationals but I decided to write after being deprived for so long. Please wish me luck! 🙏

[odilelajolie]

Hunted, Ch. 2: Dream A Little Dream of Me (18+)

Alice misses Cooper. Cooper misses his little girl even more.

Perhaps she should have found it disturbing, just how quickly the mysterious man from Tuesday night seemed to consume her thoughts at every level of consciousness, from the hyperactive peaks of wakefulness all the way down to the quietest depths of slumber. 

Call me Cooper.

He’d spent barely an hour at the diner, and yet he was all Alice could think about when she returned home to her tiny apartment well after midnight—giggling. And twirling. When she finally settled down enough to sleep after a long shower, she’d dreamt about him in a series of innocent, nonlinear fancies, all involving shamelessly basking in Cooper’s undivided attention. To be looked at by Cooper, to be talked to by Cooper—to have Cooper smile at her—was the kind of benevolent, life-affirming regard so bright and balmy it was like he was the sun beaming down on her bare skin. He was a knight in truly shining armor, rescuing her from the cold darkness of the lonely shadows she called home.   

Alice couldn’t wait until she saw him again. 

Excellent recommendation, sweetheart—

She replayed their short dialogue on a near endless loop as she ran errands the following day, blushing each time she returned to the moment he called her sweetheart. His deep, stimulating voice reverberated in her ears so powerfully she actually shivered in pleasure, right in the middle of the check-out line at the grocery store. 

Alice was in such a good mood daydreaming about Cooper that she barely even noticed the hushed whispers of what the hell is wrong with her now? and looks like crazy girl is about to have another nervous fucking breakdown.

There were so many things she wished she’d asked him, and Alice promised herself that the next time he came into the diner, she would be brave and get to know him a bit better. Maybe she’d even personally treat him to his next meal as a thank-you. He’d left her a thirty-dollar tip on his twenty-dollar tab, and while Alice appreciated his generosity, she wanted to prove to him that his attention was infinitely more meaningful to her than his money. 

But Wednesday came and went, followed by Thursday, with absolutely no sign of the captivating newcomer. He was nowhere to be seen around town, nor did he make any appearances at the diner. Alice waited on her tables like she always did—docile and silent, while pretending she was invisible—and as she gazed longingly at the door during those slow hours of emptiness before closing, she began to question if she ever would see him again.

By Friday night, Alice was anxious.

By Saturday night, Alice was crushed. 

As she dejectedly restocked the beverage station next to the bar just after eleven, all hope of seeing Cooper walking through the door officially lost, Alice was forced to accept the strong possibility that she’d let her overactive imagination get carried away.

She was crazy, after all. And the whole town knew it.

Cooper was just a friendly tourist passing through, likely a hiker on his way to the nearby national forest given his obvious athleticism, and Alice had unhealthily clung to the idea of him out of sheer desperation for someone—anyone—to acknowledge her existence as more than just the town lunatic. A man as handsome and kind as Cooper probably even had a family waiting for him in one of the big cities, like Boston or New York or Philadelphia. He probably had a beautiful, perfect wife and beautiful, perfect children, and a myriad of beautiful, perfect friends.

One thing was certain—their short interaction had meant far more to Alice than it had meant to Cooper. 

He’d likely already forgotten all about her the second he walked out the door on Tuesday—

“Why do you look like you’re about to cry, sweetheart?”

Startled by the intrusion, Alice jumped several feet back with a high shriek, but her heart rate instantly began to settle when her eyes finally landed on the very object of her inapt hopefulness. 

“Hey…easy there, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Cooper intoned tenderly, slowly raising his huge hands as if attempting to calm an untamed, fearful mare. Gesturing to his broad torso, he added, “I was just here the other night. Cooper. Don’t you remember me? I ordered the deluxe cheeseburger you recommended…”

For several seconds, Alice was paralyzed from her vocal box all the way to her feet, the gears in her mind stuck somewhere between humiliation and delight. But soon, her joy and relief at seeing Cooper again obliterated her sense of embarrassment—even her sense of shame—and it wasn’t long before she was grinning and nodding like a bobblehead.

“Of c-course I remember you!” Alice squeaked, dizzy with happiness. She was so excited she couldn’t remain still, her entire body vibrating as she reflexively shifted her weight onto her toes, down, and up again, almost as if she were back in a pair of pointe shoes. “H-Hi! You’re…you’re back!”

“Well I couldn’t stay away from my new favorite restaurant.” Cooper took a few languid steps closer and leaned against the bar counter. “Or my new favorite waitress.”

He winked at her, and Alice giggled, blushing so intensely she grew even more lightheaded from the sudden rush of blood circulating through her cheeks.  

“I bet you say that to everyone who serves you,” Alice remarked sheepishly. Cooper shook his head, his dark gaze unblinking. “Just you, sweet girl.”

Alice’s heart fluttered.

She liked hearing him call her sweet girl even more than when he called her sweetheart.

“Am I too late to grab a bite?” Cooper prompted when Alice once more forgot her words, not to mention her job—too dazzled by the sight of him. “I tried to get here sooner, but work kind of got away from me.”

Alice moistened her lips and wiped her palms on her apron. “Absolutely—you can have any table you’d like!”

“Can I sit right here?” Cooper asked, already deftly easing his large body onto the nearest bar chair. “I know you can’t go behind the bar, but clearly you’re allowed to be next to it.”

Alice darted to the host stand for a menu and presented it to Cooper, and reached into her pocket for her notepad and pen. “Here is perfect. Do you know what you’d like to dri—”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You were just on the verge of tears,” Cooper clarified. “I called out to you when I walked in, but I don’t think you heard me. Is everything okay?”

Something…flickered in his impossibly dark eyes, like a shooting star reflecting upon still nighttime water.

Or perhaps a strike of lightning. 

“I…umm…”

“You can tell me, Alice,” he murmured lowly. “You can tell me anything.”

Alice nervously shifted from side to side, but was spurred into action by his gentle words. His warmth. 

“Umm…you’re going to think it’s stupid. Or crazy, probably—”

“Tell me.”

Before she could cower and hide in a last ditch attempt to preserve what little remained of her dignity, Cooper softly placed his hand on her chin, keeping her gaze focused on him in a gentle snare.

There was nowhere for her to escape. 

“Tell me why you were about to cry.”

His voice, rich and dark and velvety smooth, seemed to settle over her body like a hypnotic, drugging her into suggestion with ease. Cooper was simply irresistible, and Alice found herself confessing the humiliating truth before she could even think to stop herself. 

“I really missed you,” she whispered meekly. “People…people around here don’t like me very much—they think I’m…they think I’m…umm…weird—and you…you were so nice, and you talked to me…nobody talks to me, and…I was really hoping to see you again, but then you didn’t come back, and I wasn’t sure…oh God, what have I done…”

Alice took several slow steps backward, horrified with herself. 

She sounded just as crazy as everyone said she was. More than crazy.

She sounded obsessed. 

Cooper stared at her in silence, an inscrutable expression on his face. Alice rocked onto her heels, clutching her notepad for dear life as she anxiously waited for him to storm off and leave. 

Or, perhaps even call the police. 

Instead, he extended his long arm on a slow exhale and plucked her notepad and pen right out of her sweaty palm, and Alice’s jaw fell open as he rapidly wrote something onto the pad, and returned it to her.

“What…what is this?” Alice asked, dumbly. 

“That’s my cell phone number,” Cooper answered with a smile before Alice could even process the meaning of the ten orderly digits in front of her. “So if you miss me, if you want to see me, or even if you just want to talk—all you have to do is tell me…and I’ll be right there for you, sweet girl.”

It was far easier tonight to persuade his sweet little Alice to abandon her side work entirely, and focus entirely on him. By keeping his distance this week after giving her a small taste of the attention she so desperately craved—thereby provoking the tender girl’s pronounced fear of abandonment—he’d succeeded in breaking down what minimal defenses she had left for protecting herself.

Her loneliness made her anxious, her anxiousness made her needy, and her neediness made her pliable—complete putty in his hands. 

He wasn’t looking forward to repeating the behavior—he truly didn’t want his little girl to ever question just how much she meant to him—but it was a necessary manipulation, at least for now, to secure her devotion long-term. 

Cooper needed to make an addict out of Alice, to make his pretty little girl depend on her Daddy just as much as he already depended on her—his sweet little narcotic. To guarantee Alice’s lasting attachment, he had to expose the innocent girl to what she wanted most, and then take it away, before giving it back to her in constant, progressively stronger doses until she was so blissed out on his love and adoration she’d never even think about looking elsewhere for her needs. 

With her natural sweetness and excitability, Alice’s little side was undeniable, though the exact developmental stage she regressed to was a bit more difficult to determine. Regardless, Alice was a very…young eighteen, her highest education a GED, her worldliness limited to the  boundaries of this forgotten New England town inhabited by only a few thousand people.

Soon, he would be her entire world—

“I had to make this myself—Ted is already closing down the kitchen, but I’ve made this before, I promise—all of the ingredients and portions are written down,” Alice said in a timid rush as she shakily placed his dinner order on the bar counter. “I really hope you like it.”

Alice’s laughable attempt at preparing a harvest salad was almost as unappetizing as the cheeseburger he’d ordered on Tuesday—and Cooper already had the low-bar bias of not only being a former fireman, but also a fugitive, more than accustomed to eating cheap garbage when pressed for time and circumstance. But his little girl had clearly tried so hard to make his dinner tonight, putting her best effort in a role that was unfamiliar to her, and Cooper would not crush her spirit with criticism. 

He’d denied her—and himself, really—affection all week, which meant tonight was not a night for withholding. 

Cooper would give his little girl all of the praise she craved, until they were both satisfied. 

“Oh, this looks delicious, Alice,” Cooper complimented with enthusiasm. “And is that…wow! You added tri-tip, too? What a treat.”

The meat was much closer to well-done than Cooper would have preferred, but it looked edible enough. 

“It normally comes with grilled chicken breast, but I thought you might enjoy the beef upgrade,” Alice replied brightly. “Since you’re…umm…you’re so…umm…so…”

Alice’s shyness, combined with her complete lack of a filter, was one of the most adorable things about her. When she felt comfortable enough to actually use her cute honeyed voice, his little girl said exactly what was on her mind. 

“Since I’m what?” Cooper asked innocently. He could easily deduce just where her thoughts were headed, but he wanted to hear her say it. 

Alice chewed her lower lip, her long eyelashes fluttering. “Since you’re…so…muscular. Big muscles like yours need lots of protein, right?”

It was the first outright commentary she’d made about his appearance, though he’d certainly followed the direction of her girlish gaze on his body when she thought she was being discreet. Alice may have been profoundly inexperienced, but she still had the hormones of an eighteen-year-old girl, which meant her nubile body was craving sex—whether she realized it or not. 

Alice’s eyes widened and appeared slightly glassy as her gaze briefly slipped below his neck—was she looking at his pecs?—pupils dilating like a wobbly kitten on her first hunt. 

Good girl. 

Always keep those pretty eyes on Daddy—

“Well not just the protein—I need the veggies too,” Cooper said on a chuckle, startling the adorably distracted little girl. “It takes a lot more effort to stay fit at my age. My metabolism isn’t quite what it used to be.”

Cooper had been well aware of his physical appeal ever since he hit puberty, and had diligently maintained it ever since due to the fallacy of human nature to associate attractiveness with trustworthiness. Or even more laughably, safety. He may have been a monster, but that wasn’t what people saw when they looked at him. Instead, they saw height. A strong build. A symmetrical face.

And while Cooper was personally ambivalent about his looks, he fully intended to use any and every physical advantage in his arsenal in order to seduce Alice. She was already highly affected by him, her body language and nonverbal cues revealing far more than her words.

He was willing to bet that he could drop his voice, call her a good girl, and tell her to take off her panties and hop up on the counter so that he could bury his tongue in her sweet little cunt for dessert, and his timid little Alice would immediately obey. 

Whether she truly wanted to or not.

“Umm…I was wondering…how old are you?” Alice asked as he speared a large serving of  mixed greens, sweet potato, apple, and beef onto his fork. He took the bite and was relieved to find the salad tasted much better than it looked, but what he truly savored was the way Alice squirmed as she visibly second-guessed her question, wondering if she’d offended him.

Cooper swallowed and smiled. 

He’d give her the truth for this one.“Forty-six.”

Alice didn’t react in any significant way—no surprise or revulsion—confirming that whatever guess she may have been harboring must have been fairly close to his actual age. 

She already knew he had decades over her. Knew he was old enough to be her father.

And she was unbothered. 

“And do you…umm—if it’s okay to ask—do you…are you married? Do you have a family?”

Cooper had been anticipating this question, and had long rehearsed his response. 

With muted affectation, he lowered his head and paused all movements, his fork hovering above the salad in static suspension as he assumed a faraway look. 

He needed to appear somber.

He could see Alice fidgeting in his peripherals, her panic over his sudden despondency growing more overt by the moment, so he held the pose a few seconds longer before putting her out of her misery. 

“I’m a widower,” Cooper answered quietly. “And…I’m no longer a father.” Alice gasped, her delicate face softening with sympathy. “My family…they were in a car accident several years ago.”

“Oh, Cooper, I—I’m so sorry.” Alice placed her tiny hand on his shoulder, and Cooper had to tighten his jaw to keep himself from grabbing her and pulling her into his lap—right where she belonged. “I know there’s nothing I can say to make you feel better, but please know…I’m…I’m so sorry…”

Cooper turned towards her while slowly covering her hand on his shoulder with his grasp, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. The way her small fingers completely disappeared beneath his palm.

How easy it would be to gather both of her hands in just one of his, bruising her fragile little wrists as he pinned her down and fucked her hard from behind—

“…and I know we don’t know each other very well, but…is there…is there anything you need?” Alice asked, her delicate voice practically bleeding compassion. “Anything I can do to for you?”

You can spread your legs and let Daddy inside your pussy, baby girl—

Cooper cleared his throat and took a sip of iced tea to cool off. “That’s very kind of you to offer, but you’re already doing plenty—just by being yourself. I’m new here, and I don’t really know anyone…honestly, you’ve been the highlight of my entire week.”

Alice gazed up at him with hopeful eyes.“R-really?”

Such a needy baby girl—

“Really,” Cooper affirmed. “Thank you, Alice. For your sympathy. And for your company. It means a lot to a lonely old man like me.”

He gave her hand a final longing squeeze before continuing to eat his dinner, and the two fell into a companionable silence, sharing secret smiles every time they made eye contact. 

“So…you said you’re new here,” the girl mentioned tentatively as she refilled his glass once he’d emptied his plate. “Does that mean…you’re here to…to stay?”

Cooper carefully wiped the corners of his mouth with a paper napkin before responding. He was pleased that she was continuing to ask personal questions. Not only did it mean she was curious, but it also meant she was getting comfortable around him. 

Familiar. 

“I am,” Cooper confirmed. “After…everything…I thought it was about time for a change of scenery. Some peace and quiet. I recently closed on a nice forest property about thirty minutes north of here.”

“That sounds wonderful—congratulations on your new home!” Alice chirped. “Are you already all moved in?”

“I still have a few dozen boxes to unpack, but yeah,” Cooper replied. “I get to those in-between work calls as best as I can.”

“What do you do for work?” Alice asked. 

This was the part of the narrative Cooper had needed to embellish the most. Alice was painfully gullible—but she wasn’t stupid. Anyone would be suspicious of the luxury SUV he was driving and six-bedroom home he was currently living in if he said he was a former firefighter. 

“I was an emergency physician in Boston,” Cooper answered. 

It was a logical fake job—he possessed a well-above average understanding of the human body. 

Particularly the human body under trauma.

Cooper continued, “But now, I work part-time from home with a small network of private hospitals and concierge practices providing telehealth services for patients with non-emergency medical needs.”

Alice’s eyes widened, but not with the wonderment he was anticipating. He’d expected her to be impressed by his story, but strangely, Alice seemed more and more nervous by the moment. 

“Wow—so you must be…you must be super smart,” she eventually said in a small voice.

It dawned on him that his fake credentials likely made Alice feel insecure about her own limited education, so Cooper shook his head and released a self-deprecating laugh to put her at ease. “When it comes to medicine, sure. But that’s about it. I’m a simple man, really. I couldn’t help you if you were to ask me about something like…oh, I don’t know…” Cooper paused for a few moments and brought his hand to his chin, feigning consideration. “Literature. Art. Classical music.”

Alice immediately perked up—just as he knew she would—that irresistible, girlishly cheerful gleam restored in her eyes. “Oh, I could tell you all about those! Especially classical music!” 

Of course, Cooper had already learned within days of seeing her for the first time that these were Alice’s areas of interest and strength. 

She was an avid reader, visiting the local library every Wednesday at ten a.m. to check out books before she did her grocery shopping, defaulting most often to 19th and early 20th-century British literature. Currently, she was reading Northanger Abbey, though her favorite book of all time was The Hobbit. She typically finished a chapter each day a few hours before her evening shift at the diner, when she’d arrange a little tea party for herself in her apartment.  

She was also an amateur artist, and brought a sketchbook and colored pencils to the lakefront park every Sunday at noon to draw wildlife. For the last several weeks, she’d been working on a drawing of a family of white-tailed deer. It was clear she had no formal art instruction, but Cooper found her whimsical doodles to be endearing. 

He couldn’t wait to cover the walls of his new home—their home—with pictures she made especially for Daddy.

But the area where his little girl held true mastery was with classical music, and the elite form of athletic art that came with it.

Alice was a ballerina. 

“Well I look forward to learning all that I can from you,” Cooper replied sincerely. “Do you play an instrument?”

Alice shook her head, cheeks reddening. “Well, no…but I studied ballet pretty seriously from when I was three up until a couple of years ago. Learning about classical music kind of comes with it.”

“Now that is what I call impressive,” Cooper praised. “What’s your favorite ballet?”

Alice was on the verge of bouncing up and down, the girl was so clearly excited to talk about her favorite thing. “Well it’s definitely a three-way tie between—”

“I’m going home,” a new voice suddenly announced, and Cooper’s spine stiffened, all of his senses electrified to high alert. 

Always in the habit of constantly surveying his surroundings, it was a very rare occurrence when Cooper was unable to detect the arrival of a new person. And when it did happen, it…unnerved him.

The fry cook who had snuck up on them like a ghost was probably fifteen or twenty years older than Cooper was, tall with a gangly build, though there was a haggard weariness lining his gray face that made him appear much older. The man stepped fully into the fluorescents, and Cooper noticed that about a third of his face was violently scarred from a poorly-healed chemical burn. He also had a collection of dog tags around his neck. 

This man was ex-military.

“It’s okay, Ted, I can lock up,” Alice said timidly to the new arrival, but the cook shook his head. “I have it handled—”

“I lock up,” the man called Ted interrupted gruffly. “Take his plates to the dishwasher. Tell him the diner is closed.”

Alice offered Cooper an apologetic smile before completing her duties as she’d been instructed, briefly disappearing in the kitchens with Ted, who Cooper found himself hating more and more by the moment.

The ways he could dismember and mutilate the intrusive fuck who dared to interrupt his time with his little girl—

“Sorry about that,” Alice said breathlessly when she finally emerged. She’d let her lovely hair down—pretty, pretty girl—and was tying an oversized coat around her tiny waist. “Do you think you might want to come back soon—”

“Don’t I have a bill to pay?”

Alice shook her head with a self-satisfied smile as she reached for a spray bottle and towel, giving a final wipe-down to the countertop where Cooper had been dining. “Tonight’s on me. Your tip last time was way too generous.”

Cooper gritted his teeth and balled his fists in an effort to suppress the spark of rage her little stunt instigated. He reminded himself that Alice wasn’t insulting him on purpose—he highly doubted she possessed a single brat bone within her small body. She didn’t know she’d broken one of his rules, because she didn’t know his rules yet.

As much as he wanted to bend her over his knee, tear off her panties, and beat her ass so hard she wouldn’t be able to sit for weeks without crying in pain, he couldn’t punish her for not yet knowing that Daddy always paid for all expenses. But soon, Alice would learn that it was Daddy’s job to take care of her, and a sweet little girl like her never needed to worry about big things like money, no matter the amount.

“Thank you, Alice,” Cooper forced himself to say. 

He shrugged into his jacket and followed her out of the restaurant, standing patiently with his hands in his pockets as Alice demurely fidgeted beneath his gaze.

“I…umm…I guess I’d better head home,” Alice announced with apparent reluctance. “My apartment’s just a quick walk that way.”

“Would you like a ride?” Cooper offered. Her apartment really wasn’t far, but Cooper was highly uncomfortable with her walking alone at night. 

It was why he’d been following her on nearly all of her walks since he’d first laid eyes on her, to make sure she always stayed safe.

“I’ll be okay—thank you, Cooper,” Alice twinkled sweetly. “And…I really, really hope to see you again soon.”

They said their goodbyes, and Cooper waited an appropriate amount of time before climbing into his car and picking up Alice’s trail. He followed her unseen as she walked down Main Street, and then turned onto Briar Lane to the dilapidated walk-up at the end of the otherwise deserted road. Killing the headlights, Cooper carefully maneuvered the car off-road, parking behind the dense collection of trees with a direct view of Alice’s third-floor bedroom window.

His heart rate jumpstarted when, right on schedule, her bedroom lights came on exactly four minutes later, and Alice finally stepped into the frame. 

Cooper was pleased to see that Alice was back to dreamily twirling around on her toes and smiling. Seeing her Daddy again had clearly put his little girl back in her happy mood. 

And Cooper wanted nothing more than to preserve her happiness and innocence, to keep her safely locked up in that bubble of bliss and pleasure forever.

Nothing and no one would ever harm her ever again—so long as she remained under Daddy’s protection.

He watched with interest as Alice reached into her antique dresser to select her pajamas for the night. During the spring and summer months when the weather was warmer, Alice had most often slept in nothing more than a tank top with a cheeky pair of panties. Cooper had certainly enjoyed the sight of her tight body in such skimpy items, but now that winter was fast approaching and the temperatures were plummeting by the hour, he found he also appreciated Alice’s preference for oversized fleece sets with whimsical patterns. Tonight, she picked a baby blue set patterned with ice cream cones and cupcakes. 

She couldn’t be more adorable.

Alice disappeared into her bathroom for her nighttime shower, so Cooper took this interruption in his surveillance of his little girl to check in on his surveillance at home. He pulled out his phone and opened the app for the security system, swiping through various camera feeds until he landed on the basement of the guest house. 

His captive had barely moved an inch from the position he’d been in when Cooper had last checked the feed, slumped against a far corner of the largely barren room. Granted, the shackles around his ankles and duct-tape binding his wrists prohibited extensive movement—and yes, he was blindfolded—but the man could still easily sniff and fumble his way to the water dish and food bowl Cooper had left for him on the floor the night before. 

But apparently, the man had decided to conduct yet another hunger strike, for the food remained untouched. 

Cooper pressed the microphone button. “We’ve been over this, buddy. Either you eat on your own, or I’ll force you to eat. What’s it gonna be?”

It had been several weeks since Cooper had shoved a feeding tube down the man’s throat, and while he wasn’t particularly squeamish about the act itself, the subsequent clean-up was a rather inconvenient hassle. 

The man slowly raised his head, orienting himself in the general direction of the camera and speaker. “Fuck you, you goddamn psychopath.”

Cooper softly chuckled and closed out of the app, and was pleasantly surprised to find a new text message waiting for him.

Cooper glanced up at Alice’s window, and was instantly taken aback by how breathtaking his little girl was. Her years of ballet training were far more obvious now as she sat wrapped in a towel at the edge of her bed with her toned legs crossed, her posture perfect and elegant from her slender neck all the way down to her lower back.

She was…jumpy as she waited on his reply, chewing her lower lip in anticipation as she crossed and uncrossed her legs, looking between her phone and the direction of her bathroom and back again. He could tell she was debating whether or not to go ahead and take her shower, but his sweet girl was simply too excited to see if he would reply. 

Cooper waited for a few more minutes—just let Daddy look at you, sweetheart—but when it became obvious her anxiety was beginning to climb, her brow furrowing with worry, Cooper quickly typed a response and hit send.

[satangcrush]

in my dreams

✦ PAIRING: lucifer x reader, unrequited love  ✦ SUMMARY: “In the dream I don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap.”  ✦ WC: 0.4k

| MASTERLIST

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Lucifer knows.

He knows this forsaken feeling in his chest. The one that wraps its tendril around the clutches of his heart and never lets go. It’s terrifying. It’s sickening.

He looks for you in everything that he sees. He looks for you when he comes home. When he closes his eyes and holds his breath, he sees your entire being carved in the lid of his eyes. You consume his thoughts and plague his existence.

It was cruel of him to expect anything. It is a given fact that humans don’t live long. He’s painfully aware. But why does his heart still pine for you? He doesn’t want to think about it.

Instead, he dreams.

In the stillness of the night, he imagines a world where your gentle form captivates him wholly, a masterpiece he wants to trace out with his fingers. Endless and meandering. In the illusion he conjured up, he comes home to you and you come home to him. Everything else ceases to exist. He wonders if you dream of him.

He’s been sleeping in lately. The illusion of your soft hands and honeyed promises of forever pulls him in and he dares to close his eyes to indulge. He whispers things that he would never say. It’s becoming harder to separate his illusion from reality.

In his dream, you love him back.

This relevation wakes him up.

He makes coffee.

He meets you at the dining table.

He ignores the pit in his stomach as you flash him a smile and greet him good morning. He wants to capture this moment, memorise it and hold it close to his heart. He wants to etch your smile into his skin. He thinks you’re just as beautiful as you were yesterday.

His heart sputters to every intonation of your laugh.

.

He saw you in his dream again tonight. His hands tighten around your waist as he takes in the scent of you. Warm and homely. So when he wakes up, he can almost still taste you on his tongue. He finds solace in you.

“You don’t realise it, do you?” You whisper.

A part of him shatters. What does he not know?

“One day, this too shall be a forgotten memory and you will come to forget me.” You smile and his breath catches in his throat.

He thinks-- no, he knows he will miss you even if he hadn’t met you in this life. Maybe in another universe, he could gather his courage to confess this feeling.

But all he could do now is dream.

══════════════════

a/n ▸ please take the time to listen to in my dreams by red velvet <3 i got the summary from a poem written by Richard Siken. Another writing exercise from me lol (i wrote this in 30 mins hehehe thats also why its so short lol)

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

Darlin’ nightmare snippet

Here’s a lil snippet I wrote about Darlin’s dreams. I don’t think this’ll turn into a full fic, it’s a very nebulous idea. Inspired by some convos with @romirola, my redacted writing bestie 💗.

The dream was always the same. You, shifted, panting, teeth bared against a threat. Something invisible, something haunting, something looming over you from all directions. You, turning, prowling, herding pack behind you, trying desperately to guard them on all sides. Sometimes it was David or Asher or Milo. Worse, sometimes it was their mates. Sometimes it was all of them, the whole pack, huddled together and helpless.

Sometimes it was just Sam, staring at you with those wide, silver eyes. Waiting. Expectant.

Sometimes you won. It felt like a game of cat and mouse, and sometimes you caught whatever was hunting them between your teeth. The crunch of it, the hot tang of blood in your throat, the weight of success drawing you back down to peaceful sleep. It was all so fucking satisfying.

Sometimes you lost. You never got hurt. It was always them. You’d turn to find Asher missing, you’d hear Milo’s scream somewhere unseen. You’d find David, his brick wall of a body broken down and twisted at your feet. You’d watch the pack snatched away one by one into the darkness around you. David’s little mate torn into pieces. Asher’s mate calling your name, crying out for you as their voice died along with them. The dark, dead eyes of Milo’s mate staring back at you.

You always had to watch, your legs stiff and unmoving, as it (whatever it was, you could never really see) consumed Sam. You watched every painful twist of his face, every splatter of blood, every dying gasp as he was snuffed out in front of you.

He always knew when the dream went that way. He said your heart rate tipped him off, but you thought it had something to do with the mate bond. There was no tangible, provable magic behind it, but you knew better. David’s mate had called you a half hour before Milo did on the night of the E&E, swearing that in their core they knew something was horribly wrong. Asher’s mate had doubled over in pain at one point, gasping out that Asher was dead, that they knew it, that they couldn’t bear it. You’d only find out later that that moment had aligned almost perfectly with Asher’s meeting with a particular shade.

So it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility that Sam’s core reacted to your distress, even if it was in a way he couldn’t articulate. He’s gently pull you towards him, wake you slowly, softly, murmuring comforts into the junction of your neck and shoulder.

You’d told him about the dreams eventually, mapped out the variations. He listened to intently, nodding and not interrupting as you spoke.

“I just don’t know who I’m protecting them all from.” You sighed, pushing your hair back from your face. Sam contemplated it for a moment. That was something you appreciate about Sam. He chose his words carefully.

“What is it that Carl Jung says?” He finally asked. “‘Everybody in your dreams is you.’”

[digital-domain]

Escape - Part 2 to Per This Agreement

Alastor x Reader // word count 3.2k

In which your worst fear returns, and nothing about it (about him) is as you remembered

Tags/Warnings: noncon, blowjob, come swallowing, mention of substance use, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms™️, Alastor poorly suppressing a mental breakdown, not a good ending for either party, angst with a side of smut

A/N: I see this happening before/during whatever the fuck happened seven years ago. Is it canon compliant? Only time will tell.

As always - 18+, read the tags, if you don’t like the tags then don’t go below the cut (or into my inbox). Thank you and enjoy.

It’s been almost a year. That all-consuming paranoia that haunted you in the aftermath still lingers. But it’s not as sharp as it once was. It even disappears sometimes, when you keep yourself busy, when you give yourself other things to think about (there are other ways to tune it out as well, but they don’t last, and leave you more of a wreck than you started). So you stay moving. Stay distracted. And the results? You have a job, a dingy apartment, a scattered collection of hobbies, and people who you might consider friends if you weren’t scared of bringing them in close. It’s enough to keep the worst of your thoughts at bay. Enough to keep you sane.

And yet, you know that he is coming back. He made it clear, on that horrible day, that your existence is not your own. That you will see him again. You’ve pictured this reunion many times - it pops into your head, unwanted, at the worst possible moments. When you’re alone, when it’s dark, when you’re trying to sleep. Even after you fall asleep. Some of your nightmares are so vivid that you swear you can feel that chain around your neck, even once you wake up gasping for air. Sometimes, after a string of bad nights, staying busy isn’t enough, and you look for other ways out. If you drink enough, you don’t dream. And of course, you don’t dream if you don’t sleep and all.

You slept well last night, though. It’s been weeks since the last broadcast, and for once, your sleeping mind has given you a reprieve from its horrors. The day was good, too. Full of the pleasant boringness of everyday existence, the empty chatter that almost makes you feel at peace. You went to work, and did not jump at any unexplained noises. You ate your lunch, and did not feel the urge to vomit at any point after. You walked home, and did not stop to buy the sort of poison that would help you forget. You turned corners, and did not fear what you might see when you did. You ascended the stairs of your apartment building, and unlocked your door, and thought of nothing but mundane things the entire time. It was an uneventful day.

It was too good to last. 

You step into your apartment, and immediately, something feels wrong. You can’t place it. There are no flickering lights, no ominous shadows on the wall, no faint, distorted voices echoing from places you can’t see. And yet, the feeling remains. You proceed cautiously through your home, and slowly open the door of your bedroom. Step inside.

And freeze. 

Alastor is standing motionless in the middle of the room, like he’s been staring at your door for hours, waiting for you to emerge. 

Running would be so pointless that it doesn’t even occur to you. In fact, absolutely nothing occurs to you for some time. For you to have any thoughts, you’d first have to admit that this was real.

His eyes register your appearance, but he doesn’t move or speak. Not yet. Your mind slows down - or perhaps time slows down, to give you a chance to see, to understand anything beyond your initial horror. And you realize, after your thoughts finally catch up with your eyes, that nothing is as you remembered. 

He looks different. He is different, in every conceivable way.

You remember him standing straight. Even when he bent down, his spine was rigid. Now, he is folded in on himself, like a marionette with half its strings cut. His chest visibly rises and falls. His ears are pressed back against his head. His hair is frayed at the ends, individual strands escaping his control, pressing out in every direction. He is still grinning, but it’s not cruel, or confident. In fact, it looks like it might slip off at any moment. And his eyes…

They’re wide. Expressive, a far cry from the sadistic calculation that had burned in them a year ago. In all the times you imagined this moment, you never imagined him like this. You don’t think you could have conjured such a desperate expression in your imagination, even if you’d tried. Something is wrong, and not in the way you expected.

Even the place where he’s standing is wrong. In your nightmares, he always appeared over your bed when you were sleeping, or materialized in your desk chair, his boots kicked up at the corner, a menacing grin pasted to his face. And he always had something to say. But here, in what is unfortunately your real, waking life, his silence stretches on, until it’s too much for you to bear.

“What do you want?” You hate the way these words curdle in your mouth, fall thickly from your tongue. You shouldn’t have to ask. In your dreams, he was always very clear about what he wanted. Revenge for your insolence, in one way or another. On the good nights, your soul is ripped at its seams, and you scream for all of hell to hear. On the bad nights, you’re torn apart in a different way, and no one hears you except for him.

He doesn’t answer you. Not immediately. Just inhales deeply, presses his clenched fists to his side. For no reason that you can think of, you take a step forward - the door slams shut behind you, and you hear the click of a key in the lock. You don’t bother turning around, or checking your pockets for your own key. Somehow, you already know that they’ll be empty. 

One of his hands rises into the space between you. His fist falls open, palm raised to the ceiling. It curls shut. 

This is exactly as you remember.

It plays out like your nightmares, in perfect detail. The golden chain unfurls, you take one last free breath before the collar snaps tight around your neck, and you lock eyes with him as your face falls. But you don’t struggle, this time. And he doesn’t move more than he has to. He drops his gaze, stares down the length of the chain, holds its end limply in his loose fist. 

It shakes and bends, capturing the small spasms of his hand. “I didn’t think”-

Your breath catches in your throat, at the same moment he cuts himself off. He sounds different. There is no filter over his voice, nothing for it to hide behind. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever”- Again, he stops. He seems to become aware that he’s speaking only once the words have left his mouth. “A year ago…I didn’t intend on following through”-

You wait. He’s not drawing this out on purpose. You almost wish that he was. That would make sense. Taunts would make sense. Arrogance, deceit - those would make sense. This does not make sense. This is not real.

He starts again, and this time, it sticks. “I’m suffering in ways that you couldn’t even fathom.” His eyes, dull, burned-out red craters, leave you no room to question him, although at this moment, you don’t think any kind of suffering is out of reach for you. “There’s a reason the airwaves have been so quiet for the past few weeks. This… thing that’s hanging over me…” His eyes narrow, fingertips scratch against his covered palm. “It’s stripping the pleasure out of everything.” Finally, he looks at you. Seeing your face seems to strengthen his resolve - he grips the slack of the chain, slowly wraps it around his hand. “And I’m sure you know…despair makes us resort to strange things, just to feel alive.”

You do know. And you want to scream that you know because of him. But for many reasons, your mouth stays shut. He already knows everything that you’re thinking. Everything you fear. He’s thinking about it, too.

“I can’t escape. But I can forget, if only for a moment. And I suppose that’s a form of escape in itself.” He tilts his head. “Isn’t it?” His gaze is fixed on the chain link protruding from his fist. Some battle rages in his head, with no sign of abating. 

The doorknob is close to your hand. So close that you’re beginning to think that fleeing is an option for you, after all. The Alastor you saw in your nightmares would never have permitted it - but he has little in common with the man standing before you. You eye the golden links flowing out from his hand. If you pull hard enough to make him let go, will the whole thing disappear? You don’t think it would take much to catch him off guard. Not in his current state.

Your stomach drops as his eyes flick upwards, catch you in the act.

“Oh…” To your horror, his ears perk up, eyes narrow in an all-too-familiar way. “No. I’m not that far gone.”

You stop, and wish you could force yourself to keep moving, just enough to cover your ears. The static is back in his voice, biting into you. You think he’s angry, like he was the time before. Or at the very least, he wants to be angry. 

Your mind escapes of its own accord. You see yourself, almost a year ago, in the wake of your terrible mistake. Wiping your tears away, dressing in the finest clothes you owned, marching into the street. Buying two things at a nearby secondhand shop: a radio, abandoned and cheap because it refused to turn off, and a baseball bat. It was a stupid idea, one that sucked up your money and left you sitting on your kitchen floor in a sea of broken metal parts, feeling even more hopeless than you did before.

But it felt good, while it lasted. Better than you’d felt in a long time. It gave you something to do with your misery, other than let it tear you apart. And for a few seconds of blissful destruction, your mind went entirely quiet. 

His voice drags you back to the present. “Even if you did manage to get as far as that doorknob,” he spits, “it would still be locked. I’m afraid that you’re trapped.” His grin stretches at the corners, and he bitterly laughs at some joke that you truly don’t understand. “We have that in common. But at least I still have a few places left to run.”

You don’t say a thing. Only let your hand fall from its upwards climb, back to the outside of your thigh. Limp.

“So few that I ran to you.” His lip twitches in something like disgust - whether at you, or at himself, you’re not sure. It stills quickly, and the mask of his smile hardens on his face. “Pitiful. But I can’t say that I regret it just yet. And perhaps I never will.” He clenches his fist tight around the ethereal chain, and for the first time since you set foot in your room, his eyes are alight, glowing exactly how you remember. “I certainly can’t turn back.”

Maybe this, the return of what you knew, is the only part that is real. Or maybe it’s the only part that isn’t. It goes on, either way.

A sudden tension on the chain pulls you forward, until you’re sprawled on the floor with only a vague understanding of how you got there. You look up, and see a gloved hand tugging sharply upwards. You scramble to your knees, because fighting with the metal band around your neck will result in you hideously gasping for breath until you surrender. You try to look away. To your surprise, he lets you, but you find your gaze returning to him before long. There’s no escape. He made that clear a long time ago. He can quell any struggle that you attempt, so it’s better not to struggle at all.

No way out…and yet, there is a hesitance in the way his hand leaves your face, a clumsiness in the way it falls at his waist. One last spark of uncertainty. It’s gone, after a moment - he clutches your chain harder, and quickly undoes his trousers, pulls everything down just enough to let his cock spring free. He looks at you in the moment that your stomach knots in anticipation, in the moment your face betrays your rage at being dragged down to this place. He sighs in delight, at that. But he closes his eyes as he urges you forward, as you let your tongue fall from your mouth, as you drag it up his length and close your mouth over the tip of his cock. He inhales sharply, but makes no other sound. His mouth has fallen open, revealing the sharp ends of his teeth. You wrap your hand around his shaft, meet it with your lips, stroke in time with the movement of your mouth, try to ignore the sound of his breath. You don’t know what he wants, what he likes - you’re not sure if he knows, either. All you can do is keep going, and pray that it will be over soon. Your eyes are closed. His breathing is louder than it was a moment before.

You’re not sure what, exactly, shifts. All you know is that suddenly, his hand is on the back of your head, nails sharp even through his gloves, curling through your hair and pressing into your scalp. His eyes have snapped open. They bore into you as he forces himself into your throat, as he makes you gag and sputter until you’re fighting against his hand, against the chain that pulls you tight to the base of his cock. You can’t breathe. Drool trails from the sides of your mouth, drips to the floor - and he holds you there, exhales raggedly as your struggles become increasingly desperate, until give out entirely.

There’s the clink of chain unwinding from his hand, and then the relief of being yanked back, of taking a deep breath - only for your stomach to drop again as he raises your face. You’re not sure when you started crying, but the tears are there, and he sees every one of them. Lifts a finger to wipe the freshest one away. 

His eyes are wide and shining and dark. Edging on black, the same color as the ill-fitting shadow that pulses out from behind him. He tugs at your chain, and his voice hisses out from the gap between his teeth, a low, ravenous command. “Smile.”

His finger pulls at the corner of your mouth, but you’re already obeying, pulling your lips back to show your teeth, arranging the drool-stained lower half of your face into exactly what he wants to see. His hand twitches. The shadow on the wall lets its mouth fall open. Then, his grip clamps down on your jaw, erasing your grin and forcing your lips open. He shoves into your mouth, thrusts relentlessly until all you have room for in your head is the clink of the chain by your ear, the pressure of his hand on the back of your head, and the taste of his cock on your tongue. The chain tightens, he holds you tight as you choke, his hand stiffens on your scalp - 

He gasps out an oath under his breath. His body shudders, convulses. His cock pulses into you, and his come releases into your throat, so deep that you don’t taste it. You don’t think about it. You prepare to fight for breath, once again, to be held cruelly and tightly until saliva pools in your mouth and spills from your lips. 

But you don’t have to. The moment after it happens, he’s already stepping away. Pulling in on himself, in a perfect mirror of the way you crumple to the floor beneath him. Another oath falls softly on your ears, this one the opposite of pleasure, panicked and accompanied by a different sort of shudder.

The chain disappears. You swallow hard. And with your spine curled in, with your forearms pressed to your thighs, you watch him. He dresses himself quickly, erratically, fumbling over the fasteners before stumbling back to fall onto your bed. To ruin it with the weight of his body, the curl of his fingers on your blanket. 

His breathing, unlike yours, doesn’t even out as the seconds tick by. It catches, releases, sputters. And finally, it becomes so perfectly slow and measured that you know, beyond a doubt, each inhale and exhale is a conscious act. He’s dazed, eyes lidded, his grin faint compared to moments ago. You get the odd impression that you shouldn’t be seeing him like this - that no one should.

“My mind went quiet, for a moment…” Again, he’s not really speaking to you. The static in his voice is gone. And that look on his face, the deadened eyes, the panic only betrayed in the jittering of his hands, has sprung back into place. “It wasn’t worth it.”

“No.” You’re not sure if you say it out loud, and you don’t care. Your mind detaches from your body, floats to the highest shelf in your cramped kitchen, the half-empty bottle of liquor that stands bitter and alone against the peeling paint of your wall. It’s never worth it. And yet, you know that it will be empty, before long.

He looks away from you. “There was a time…a time when I had rules...control…” 

There was a time when you had control, too. It ended when you met him, and it won’t come back. 

“Your soul…” His chest rises. Falls. Heavy. And slowly, shaking, he pulls his hands up from your bed. In one, he rests his face, the attached arm pulled close to his body, elbow pressed down into his thigh. The other hand unfurls in the empty air beside his head. From it emits a soft green light. “Have it.” The light streams towards you, connecting your body with the tips of his fingers, enveloping you with such intensity that you have to close your eyes. You gasp as it seems to pierce your heart, sending a jolt vibrating through your ribcage as it’s sucked into you, until the green glow on the other side of your eyelids has disappeared, and a strange warmth radiates inside you.

He’s let you go. You feel it, know it - but the relief does not come.

You open your eyes. He stands, turns away. Ears pushed back, fists clenched, spine rounded, moments from giving out entirely. And this is the last you see of him. He does not leave by the door. Instead, his image melts away, melds with the remnants of his shadow and retreats into some dark corner, out through whatever crevice he manages to find. 

Away from you. Away from the unswept bedroom floor that you’re curled upon, away from your eyes, which have become every bit as hollow as his own. You hate yourself for wondering what happened to him. But you hate yourself more for wondering if he’ll ever come back. Wondering what version of him you’ll see, if he does. ***

The broadcasts do not return. Not in weeks, not in months, not in years to come. But you never really stop wondering. Only pause. Only live, and escape the best you can for as long as you can manage. After enough time has gone by, you can barely make out his face in your dreams - but you always know it’s him. And they never go away.

[sweptawayghost]

In Dreams Pt.2

PAIRING: Joel Miller X Reader

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Joel is plagued by images of you when he closes his eyes. The dreams aren't stopping and his feelings for you only grow stronger with everyday. As Winter closes in you go on one last unofficial patrol, close proximity makes Joels brain go all stupid.

Hello!!! 

Thank you so much for the support on my first part, it really means the world to me. I’ve got ideas of where I want the story to go but it's gonna be mostly Joel lusting after us for a while. I love when big strong men need to be held and told what a good boy they've been...

If you'd like me to tag you in my next part just let me know. Let me know if I missed any warnings. Thank you so much :) Anything Written like this {Italic} indicated Joel's inner thoughts. Word count 4.1K

CHAPTER WARNING: Mention of male masturbation, mentions of alcohol, Age gap, Mentions of creampie, sharing the same bed, Pet name (we call Joel baby), some fluff, some smut

It wasn't just once. Of course it wouldn't be. It wasn't the only night he dreamt about you either. Too many nights he woke up in full body sweats, which was not new to him but the reason was new. 

The reason being you. 

He would think about all the times your fingertips would brush his skin, he would think about the way you would grab his arm when walking down the street with him, he would think about the way you grabbed a fist full of his hair when it had started growing out of control “you need a haircut Miller” the act of your touch was innocent but it lit a fire in Joel’s gut. 

Every little touch stuck with him and followed him around for the rest of the day like a drop of blood on a white shirt, almost haunting him. It would follow him to bed at night as well. When he settled into the comforting silence of his bedroom he could tune everything out like a radio and focus on your voice in his head. 

Some nights he would find himself rutting against the bed for relief, his eyes sealed shut, softly whimpering, wishing you were beneath him, Talking him through it, telling him how good he’s making you feel. He wanted to watch your eyes roll back, mouth agape gasping for air, moaning into his ear. God get a grip of yourself Miller. But he couldn't help himself. Images of you overriding every other thought in his brain almost like he was a puppet and someone else was pulling the strings. 

He was afraid of how much he wanted you. He would be consumed by his orgasm, his body stuttering as he held a death grip on the bathroom sink or the sheets benether him, always with the image of you flooding his mind, smiling at him, proud of yourself for how crazy you were making him, how desperate he was to cum and how you would let him do it inside of you because he was being so good for you. Ropes of his spent painting the soft skin of his stomach and the rough skin of his hand. A flash of heat rushed through him as he stifled his moans and let his body vibrate against the bed as he came down from his high.

The lonely empty feeling would chase him around all night. Some nights it would be easy to scare it off and find sleep. Can you call this sleep? Other nights he wasn't as lucky.  

He thinks about the time the two of you stumbled home from the Bison, your arm linked around his elbow as you walked side by side down the silent streets of Jackson. You had told him that the silence was sometimes deafening, how it sometimes felt worse than being outside the walls. He agreed. He confessed that he didn't sleep the first week of being here and how much worse he felt now that he had genuine safety. He wanted to let you into his head. 

If I hadn't just met you I would tell you everything. I would tell you about Sarah, I'd tell you the truth about Ellie. I would tell you about the ache in my chest when I wake up and I'd tell you how much it’s eased since I’ve met you. I'd tell you about how much I like you being around. You'd probably think I’m insane if you knew how much I think about you.

She trusts you Joel. Dont fuck this up by letting your dick do your thinking for you. 

The guilt would start to eat him alive. God she's your friend, she trusts you and you're laying in bed thinking about how good it would be to creampie her. You’re fucked up.

If he couldn't sleep he would find himself sitting up with a book or fiddling with one of his wood carvings.  

On nights where that didn't help he would take a walk...

///

“Is your girlfriend coming over as well?” Ellie called out to him from the dining room as she placed cutlery out on the table. 

She had invited a friend over for dinner. Something Joel hasn’t expected, especially so soon and especially after the way she spoke about some of the other kids in town. Really he knew it wasn't just a friend. Ellie had been acting differently, humming to herself and smiling all the time, not nearly as quick witted and all day dreamy. She’s in love. 

“Ellie” He called out to her from the kitchen averting his gaze from the stove “She aint my girlfriend… and yes she's coming over” He felt the tips of his ears burn, he could blame the tint of red that covered his face on the heat from the stove but he wouldn't have an excuse for the smile that followed. 

It had only been a few weeks since your first meeting but you had somehow integrated yourself into Joel's life. On the days that you didn't patrol together he would come visit you at the stables or the greenhouse when he was finished at work. He would come past your house to split wood or mow your yard. He fixed your front door weeks ago, he cleaned out your guttering and was able to fix that window in your bedroom that you were never able to open. 

Ellie took to you right away. She would look for any excuse to invite you over, Joel never put up a fight. He wanted you around as much as Ellie did. Many nights he would come home to a basket of fresh produce on his bench or a plate of brownies on the bench. In the long list of gifts you gave him, the friendship you shared with Ellie was the most valuable and irreplaceable. She looked up to you. 

When Sarah was alive, Joel worried that she would have questions he couldn't answer. Girly questions. Questions that would be as uncomfortable to ask as they would be the answer. Of course Ellie wasn't like most kids her age but some things never really change. Some things you just don't talk to your dad about. 

Sometimes he would just sit there and watch the two of you talking on the porch. He liked watching the way the pair of you would throw your heads back in laughter, slapping each other's arms and shoulders, he could watch it all day. Or the two of you sitting on his couch scribbling into notepads and books occasionally showing each other things you had written down or drawn. The hushed whispers at the dinner table when he wasn't paying attention. Ellie taking full advantage of his deafness. Or some nights you would be walking her back home with an arm linked in hers or thrown over her shoulder. Something Ellie would continue to say she hated but secretly loved. In a lot of ways you treated her like she was your sister. If you and Ellie are sisters that would make me… Yuck.

Ellie jumped when she heard the knock on the door. She was off all afternoon, fidgety and jittery. Ringing her fingers and cracking her knuckles when her hands were idle before wiping her palms on her jeans. Small things you think I don't notice. Dropping the remaining utensils. 

“I'll get it!” she shouted as she turned to run towards the sound, joel could hear the soft thump of her socked feet on the worn hardwood of the floor. He heard the door open and felt the cold air sweep through followed by an “oh, it's just you” He let his lips curl into a smile. 

You slid into the kitchen like you usually do, your shoes and jacket forgotten in the lounge room. Joel loved it when you wore your hair down. He loved seeing the way your jeans hung around your waist and he fucking loved when you didnt wear a bra. Like tonight. He tried not to notice and he tried not to look but sometimes he thinks you did it on purpose. Stop it Miller.

“Nothing sexier than a man in the kitchen” you blurted out at him from the doorway, he looked over at you, he didn't miss the way your eyes lingered on his form.

“Shut up” He shook his head and averted his attention back to the pot on the stove. He couldn't stop the smile that formed on his lips but he didn't mind that you saw it. He lowered the heat on the stove before turning to lean on the counter. 

You placed a bottle on the kitchen island before jumping up to sit on it. A recurring gift of Seth's finest home brewed whisky. The bottle in similar shape to the one you gave him weeks ago. 

There have been many nights since then that the two of you would drown in the amber liquid. Each time only strengthened his affection for you. 

One night he made a confession to you about the pit in his stomach and the hole in his heart, he told you about the nightmares he had almost every time he closed his eyes and the suffocating feeling he had once he woke from them. He couldn't look at you although he felt you searching for his eyes. 

He heard the shuffled movement from where you sat beside him on the couch. He closed his eyes when he felt your hand on the back of his neck, fingertips cold despite the heat coming from the fire, he surrendered when you pulled him into your chest and he let his arms wrap around your middle. 

He didn't mind letting you see this part of him. The soft and broken part. He never felt as though he needed to hide from you. 

“You're okay, baby” you whispered into his hair. That was all it took for him to crumble into you. 

Baby

Did you mean to say that? 

Baby

Had it slipped out by accident? 

Baby

Did you call everyone that? He searched his brain for the answer to the questions, coming up empty.

Baby

He tried to think about the last time he let himself fall apart. When was the last time you let yourself feel? When was the last time someone just held you? 

You would never know what it meant to him. But he would never know what it meant to you. 

While the safety inside the walls of Jackson made his stomach churn, the safety he felt being in your arms was inviting and warm.

Joel Miller, for the first time in a long time, was safe. Wow   

When the morning came he found himself still in your embrace, slotted between your thighs, his head resting against your stomach with his hands pressed into your back, your hand tangled in his hair as the other rested on his shoulder.

The fire no more than dying embers in the hearth leaving a chill in the air. He would have noticed if it wasn't for the blanket that was draped around him and the heat coming off of your body, particularly right between your legs. He ignored the ache in his back and the cramping in his slumped hip as looked over your sleeping form. You looked so peaceful, almost angelic with the soft light of the morning flooding in through the windows, the peaks of your breasts pushing through your shirt, nipples hardened from the cold air in the room, Your hair falling so lazily over the couch cushion. 

You didn't try to ask Joel questions about his confession the next day, for that he was grateful. He already felt bad enough having said it at all. She thinks you're weak Miller. She feels bad for you that's why she's here, not because she cares, do you really think she’d like someone like you? Despite the insecure voice in his head giving him a beating, he wouldn't forget the way you held him, he wouldn't forget the way you looked down at him once you woke up, he wouldn't forget the slow rise and fall of your chest as you slept and he wouldn't forget the heat that seeped into him from between your legs.  

Baby

“Hello? Are you even listening to me?” Joel didn't realise you had been talking to him, wrapped up in the memory or your embrace. 

“I just missed the last bit” Good lie Miller. You rolled your eyes at him knowing he didn't hear a word. You jumped down from the counter and closed the gap between the two of you before reaching out to grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger. 

“If you weren't so handsome i would slap the shit out of you” 

Joel tried to pay attention to what you said next which was hard given you didn't let go of his chin and the smell of your soap was intoxicating and the fact that you had called him handsome. The heat from your body and your constant eye contact making it hard for him to focus on anything else besides the pressure building in his jeans. What did she say? Six days? Something about patrol and the snow. Let's go before the snow or something like that? Does it really matter? Just say yes to whatever she asks. 

Another knock on the door followed by a shout from Ellie breaking the moment. 

///

Joel liked that you never really got small talk. You would ask him strange things like, what colour his first bike was or how old he was when he shaved for the first time. Why would you wanna know? His favourite was when you asked him to tell you about his first girlfriend.

"Hmm, I think her name was Stacy?" He said it like a question "Lacie?" He clicked his finger and pointed at you "no! Macie" He looked over the top of the flames to find your face staring back at him.

 Normally a fire is a huge no no for Joel but the cold night air coupled with the pelting rain left him with no choice. The two of you had been out for two days now, taking shelter in whatever somewhat secure structure you came across at nightfall and the rain was welcome, covering any sounds the pair of you would make as well as washing away the build up of sweat and dirt that covered his skin. Soon snow would blanket the ground of jackson, the sightings of infected would lessen and the town would slow for a while. 

You had dragged him out for one last trip before it got too cold and too dangerous to be out for an extended period of time. 

“Do you think that you loved her?” you asked as you laid down on your side with an elbow propping your head up. He mirrored your posture and paused to think about it.

Joel could count on one hand how many people he actually loved and Lacie. Wait no, Macie definitely wasn't one of them. 

“ No” He relaxed into your gaze from across the fire, the cold air pricking the back of his neck. “ I was young and love really wasn't the first thing on my mind. Even if I told her I loved her I probably didn't mean it.” it might have sounded cruel but it was the truth. 

He would tell you about the movies they would see together and about the music they would listen to. He would describe the creek they would swim in during summer and how they would ride their bikes around town before Joel finally saved enough money to buy a car. 

"What kind of car did you drive?" 

He found it cute that you cared, that you would even know what he was talking about if he told you. 

"It was a red pickup truck, hunk of shit really but it was mine" He felt his cheeks heat up as you continued your relentless eye contact. He felt like a doddering old man reliving stories of his glory days when you asked him these kinds of questions. But you would watch him with close intent. Hanging on to his every word, mouth slightly agape as you listened to him as if he was the most interesting person telling you the most interesting story. 

You turned onto your stomach bringing your elbows up and placing a hand on either side of your face to support the weight of your head, eyes sparkling over at him. I wish she would stop looking at me like that. If she only knew what she did to me. 

"I wish I was lucky enough to have a car" 

You said this sincerely but Joel remembers the car very well. Ripped up fabric seating, no plastic cover on the dashboard, absolutely no air conditioning and only the driver's side window went down. Not to mention the fuel gauge would stick so he was caught out more than once on the side of the road with an empty tank. 

"wasn't a prize" he'd said, looking deeper into the flames, you were still looking at him, studying his expression as he got lost in the memory. You seemed closer than you did before.

"Did you fuck her in the back or what?" You had asked him so bluntly without emotion as if you had asked him how his day was. He stifled a laugh before letting his eyes drift over to you. He could see you weren't really joking although you did have a hint of a grin on your lips and a glint in your eyes that screamed ‘I'm trying to make you uncomfortable.’ 

He could feel his own grin creeping over his face, you were trying to make him uncomfortable and it was working. Joel would tell you anything you wanted to hear as long as he could keep looking at you like this, head tilted a little bit as if he was telling you the most interesting story you ever heard, eyes blown wide, lazy smile on your lips just slightly showing your teeth. God why do you have to look at me that way. 

"Wow" you started "Such a romantic, Miller" Your smile no longer a lazy grin but a real one, the one he loved to see you wear. He blamed the heat of the fire for the flush of his checks when you asked if he was blushing. He blamed the day's hike for his urgency to sleep and his sudden silence. But he blamed you for the swell of his cock. It's just the way she's looking at me, I can't help that. He had his eyes closed but he could hear the rustling of your sleeping bag getting closer and closer to where he was laying. 

“Let me sleep next to you, I'm freezing my ass off” It wasn't a question, you were already doing it and you probably wouldn't have stopped even if he had said no. you started to unzip your bag and he followed suit, clipping the zips together before you crawled inside it. It was still a fairly snug fit, not that he was complaining, he would take any opportunity to be this close to you. Just don't get a full blown hard on and you’ll be fine. When you said ‘sleep next to you’ he didn't think this is what you meant. 

You settled in beside him, pressing your back to his chest, the swell of your ass pressed up against him and the smell of your hair mixed with your sweat filled his nose. You grabbed his arm and slung it over your hip, silently giving him permission to touch you so he slid his other arm under your neck and pulled you in closer. Joel could be wrong, but you didn't feel particularly cold. 

“Can you tell me more” you asked him, turning your head slightly over your shoulder in his direction. “About your life before” 

He started talking, he talked about his childhood, he talked about his mama, he talked about his favourite meals and he told you about his ambitions and his dreams. Periodically pulling a giggle from you as you swatted his hand. At some point you had rolled over to face him, draping a leg over his waist, giving him that same look from before, listening like your life depended on it, looking at him like he was the only person on earth, like he was the one who hung the moon in the sky.

He described the neighbourhood he lived in, He mentioned sarahs name in passing a few times, never once did you press for more than what he gave you. One day he would tell you about her, but not tonight. Maybe when I'm drunk. That’ll make it easier. 

You brought a hand up to cup his check, gently rubbing the stubbled hair that lived there with your thumb, catching the corner of his lip as you passed back and forth. 

“I love when you talk about her.” you told him. He was putty in your hands. 

Your soft whispers would stay with him. He knew in the morning you wouldn't say anything and you knew he wouldn't say anything. He didn't know when he fell asleep but he only hopes it was after you did. You would follow him into his dreams that night, as you did so many nights nowadays. Your laugh, your smile, your hand on the apple of his cheek, Sweaty skin sticking to his, how you would look on top of him, tits bouncing in his face as you moaned out his name over and over like a prey, all exposed skin and desperate kisses. He was clinging to every moan, every breath, every whimper he could.  Wake up.

The smell of coffee was the first thing that hit him, next was the absence of you next to him, then it was the ache of his swollen member against the zip on his jeans. He turned to look for you, the smell of fire was next, followed by sound of rain against the rotting bored of the shed you had called camp that night. He saw you sitting at the foot of the sleeping bag's knee propped up as you scribbled in your notebook, a sight he’d seen a million times. It was a dark brown leather covered book, not thick enough to weigh you down enough to make itself known. It had clippings, photographs of people you never knew and would never know, stamps and postcards, elastic bands, paper clips and torn weathered notes jammed throughout it, he had even seen you pull flowers and leaves out of it ‘flower pressing’ you had told him. 

What he wouldn't give to get his hands on it, to see what made you tick, to rip open your head and dig around. You had given him a lot over the few weeks that you had known him but it still somehow wasn't enough. You had confided in him about mistakes you had made, about the things you had gone through to get here, uncalled for fights and your old patrol partner. Your old patrol partner. You had only ever brought them up once, no descriptor, no he or she, nothing. He had come up blank trying to get information out of Tommy. You had only said it once but that was all he needed. 

You had told him about your relationships, the good, the bad and he ugly. The serious ones and the not so serious ones and even the experimental ones ‘ I was drunk okay?’ you had told him ‘but even if i wasn't I still would have done it’. But he always felt like a part of you was hidden away. 

The soft slap of pages closing broke him from his thoughts.

“Good morning” your voice came out as a whisper, close and thick with sleep. You extended your hand out to him, holding the metal lid from the thermos, still half full with the coffee you just brewed. 

When you packed up to leave that morning you didn't unzip the sleeping bags. You still didn’t unzip it when you set up camp that night. 

Whispers. Dreams. Fire. Rain. Coffee. You.

Secrets. Hard on. Fire. Rain. Coffee. Notebook. You. 

Mumble. Slumber. Fire. Notebook. Throbbing. You.

“Joel” Your voice broke through the silence of the morning waking him from filthy dreams of you.

“you moan a lot in your sleep” 

@orcasoul

@vodkasicecream

[exoticb-utters]

Hello!

I saw your recent Hank fic and wanted to ask for a domestic fluff fic for him if it's not a problem.

of COURSE I can ‼️🙏🏽

Lazy Mornings 💕

Hank X GN Reader Fluff Word Count: 805

A light chirping sound awoke you from your slumber, the soft sounds a far cry away in your dreams.

Your eyes softly fluttered open, briefly blinded by the sunlight bleeding through your open curtains. You squinted, eyes slowly adjusting.

You’re met with the sight of a yellow bird jumping as it tweeted away outside your window.

You rubbed your eyes, watching the bird chirp at you once more before flying away. It felt like it was trying to wake you up.

The silly thought caused you to roll your eyes at yourself.

You then shift in your spot with a yawn, attempting to turn over before noticing a familiar weight draped leisurely across your body.

You chuckled silently to yourself; realizing your husband, Hank, was currently holding you firmly against his chest.

You exhaled deeply, savoring the subtle body heat radiating off of him, basking in his warmth as if he were your own personal sun.

Downside to having a husband who sheds, well, it gets all over the furniture. Thankfully, he was the best blue teddy bear you could ask for. Not to mention- this feeling.

You turned around, now facing his chest. Not a horrible start to my morning…Your sleep-ridden mind whispered to you. The thought brought a smile to your lips and a breathy chuckle out of your lungs.

You look up, seeing Hank’s face sleeping peacefully. Save for the open mouth, gentle snores, and the drool probably threatening to spill out onto his pillow.

You let another amused chuckle, taking your fingers through his blue fur while sighing to yourself. He had a long night, dealing with politics and other time consuming tasks the poor guy had to tend to daily.

But he never once complained, he’s truly working towards a better world for mutants- and one day your kids. But that was another story for another day.

You continued gazing at the scenic picture before you, committing every detail of his face to memory.

The way the sunlight highlighted the sharp features of his cheekbones. His soft hair tousled from sleep, barely kissing his forehead. Each strand and curl similar to a paint-stoke intricately placed by a skilled hand.

You loved him so much.

You noticed his mouth twitch, almost in a manner you’d see someone do when trying to hold in a laugh.

“You’re awake.” You say, more of an amused statement than question.

“Well, you’re staring.” Your blue fur-ball of a husband retorts, eyes still closed, but a gentle smirk playing on his lips now.

“I’m impressed you could tell.” Your eyes flickered to his coy smile which revealed those sharp canines. The same ones that may have busied themselves by nipping at your skin…

He hums, his mouth shaping into more of a smug grin as he holds you closer. “Honey, I can always tell. I just choose not to say anything.” You roll your eyes at his reply.

“But, I should ask why you’re up earlier than usual, hm?” He questions, opening an eye to look at you curiously.

“Hmm, I dunno. I must’ve gotten distracted by some…handsome man in my bed.” You joke with a shrug.

“Unacceptable. I should sue.” He retorts, earning a giggle from you. He closed his eyes once more before dipping his head down towards your nape.

You feel his lips pepper kisses on your neck, the hot contact leaving on your skin on fire.

You then lift his jaw, guiding him upwards before catching his lips with yours.

The kiss was sweet, his hand running up your body to rest at your neck. You then held your hand on his wrist, holding him in place- as if he’d run away.

You parted from the kiss, your noses still touching, foreheads pressed against one another. Five years of marriage and he still managed to get you blushing like a giddy school girl.

“…what were we talking about?” Hank spoke, finally opening his eyes. You chuckle, laying your head in the crane of his neck. “Surely nothing that important.”

You felt him place a gentle kiss in the top of your head. “Surely not.” He repeats, resting his head atop yours.

Suddenly, it was back to the comfortable silence. The faint sounds of birds singing outside mixing with Hank’s gentle breathing weighed your eyelids down.

As your eyes began to close, you hear the words you’ve said to each other countless times before.

“I love you.”

A sleepy smile tugs on your lips as you teetered on the verge of sleep, the soft lull of slumber pulling you in like a strong tide.

“I love you too.”

A/N: HOPE YOU ENJOYED! I may be a little bit slower on updates since I'm in Volleyball season, so keep that in mind if it takes me a second to post 😭 but my art commissions and writing requests stay open, so if you want anything written pls drop what you wanna see in my ask box!

-Mae