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antilocaprine · 5 months

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❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ POV ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

(Ask Game)

POV: something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

This is a super fun one to consider, and right away I thought of Sweet Dreams Are Made of Bees, because Benrey is being SO weird for that whole fic due to The Situation. So let's see a small snippet of what was going on with him that covers a short span between Chapters 2 and 3:

"Hey, Benrey," Gordon says, and how is he so calm? Benrey nearly ripped his arm off just a few minutes ago, but he's - it's like he's ignoring it, and that's never happened before. He's not making any sense, he's not working right, and there's nothing Benrey can do about it but continue to listen. “I’m...having trouble with this. How do you think Dr. Coomer would explain this situation to me?”

Oh. Now there's an idea. Benrey thinks about it for a moment. He's never had another person in this space - another real person, like really real - but it makes sense that since they both know Dr. Coomer, they should be able to come up with a pretty accurate...puppet, or whatever they're called. He can't think of the word right now. He can't think of much without his thoughts circling back around to - yes, that, exactly. Stop thinking about that.

Benrey huffs quietly and shrugs. Only one way to find out if this will work, and that's to try it. “Why don’t you, uh, why don’t you ask him?”

"What?" Gordon sounds distracted, and Benrey risks a quick glance at his face. Luckily, he's peering over Benrey's shoulder with that focused expression that suggests Joshua is about to do something that Gordon believes is reckless. Here, in this place, his green eyes glow like the slime Dr. Coomer loves so much (and claims to be allergic to).

Benrey knows better now than to try to mention that - apparently "slime" isn't an acceptable thing for human eyes to be compared to. But Benrey likes the color, and doesn't understand why - oh, right, can't think about that. Can't think about this. Think about - think about Dr. Coomer, and his way with words, how he can describe things, how he's so smart even if he says dumb things about Benrey wanting to stay with Gordon...

"Wait, what?" Gordon says, startling, and Benrey slams his eyes closed and wrenches at the image in his stupid dumb brain. It's worked before - don't think about that - it can work again, he has to make it work again -

“Hello Gordon!” Dr. Coomer says cheerily as he lands heels-down on the ground several feet away.

“Dr. Coomer?!” Gordon yelps as Coomer steps forward and collapses soundlessly into a cross-legged position next to him and Benrey.

“Hello, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer says again. “Hello, Security Chief Boper!”

Wait, why would he - oh, right, that tracks. Benrey was trying to make a version of him that would put Gordon more at ease. But he still has to check for himself, and there's only one way to be sure. “Hey, uh, you got credentials? Passport, or...can I see it please?”

“Hang on -” Gordon starts to say, but Dr. Coomer is already handing Benrey a brown leather bifold with an embossed seal on the front. Benrey nearly sighs in relief when he can read the words on the seal. He forgets why that's important right now, and he doesn't have the brain-space to think about it. (Don't think about it don't think -)

To distract himself, Benrey flips the bifold open and peers at the inside. There's a picture of Dr. Coomer - oddly blurry, but that might be Gordon's influence, Benrey's not sure - and another set of seals and stamps and information that Benrey honestly doesn't care about right now. Normally he could use it to verify where he was, but he knows all too well at the moment. He doesn't need a reminder in text.

Instead, Benrey flips the bifold closed and sinks his aching teeth into the soft material, the taste of dusty leather bursting across his tongue. He's been clenching his jaw so hard that it's a relief to bite something like this, something with give. For a moment he almost considers -

Dr. Coomer coughs discreetly, and Benrey yanks the verification out of his mouth. He can't go down that path, no matter how easy it would be. He can't think about it. (Don't think -)

When he hands the bifold back, Dr. Coomer winks at him, a genial smile tucked into his mustache. ...Maybe Benrey made sure he was a version that would put his own mind at ease, as well. Wouldn't that be nice, for once?

“All present and accounted for," Benrey mumbles. "You’re, uh, good to go."

“What the fuck,” Gordon says.

“Hello, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer says again.

Benrey sighs to himself and squeezes his aching eyes closed. This version of Dr. Coomer should be able to keep Gordon busy and help him figure things out. They're both way smarter than Benrey is when it comes to thinking things like this through - probably from all the theoretical...whatevers they have so many of. Doesn't help Gordon when he's trying to figure out how to put together Joshua's newest LEGO kits, but it's gotta be good for something, right? They'll figure it out, and Benrey won't have to think about anything, and then both he and Gordon can wake up and everything will go back to normal and be fine forever.

Right?

Don't think about the other possibilities, don't think about the blood or the gun, don't think about it, don't think -

#hlvrai #sweet dreams are made of bees fic #fic snippet #askbox #i-have-a-gender-crisis #fic writer ask game #blood mention #gore mention #was very tempted to do the mentioned arm-ripping scene #but i feel like it's good enough in the fic for what it is #benrey is Not having a good time #technically spoilers for sweet dreams fic #but i tried to keep it vague #thank you my friend! this was fun!#my words

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beesbacktalk · 10 months

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[[Incoming Transmission]]

"Hi! I'm Bumblebee. Welcome to my blog, I hope you're all well."

[[Interrupt Transmission]]

((~This is an independent roleplay blog for Bumblebee from the Transformers franchise. I'm making this post to explain my rules for interaction and tell you a bit about myself!~))

((Munblebee [[blog's admin]] is cool with playing any version of Bumblebee from the Transformers movies, cartoons, comics, toys, and games. The only exceptions are what the Munblebee hasn't seen.))

((Munblebee isn't interested in shipping his muse or writing anything NSFW.))

((Munblebee is a 21+ adult with a job and is a bit absent minded. If he disappears suddenly it's because he forgot to tell you he was leaving work. Sorry in advance if that happens.))

((Munblebee is autistic and has trouble reading tone at times. He apologizes in advance for any misunderstanding this may result in.))

[[Resume Transmission]]

"I look forward to standing beside you, on or off the battlefield! This is Bumblebee, signing out!"

[[End Transmission]]

#transformers #bumblebee #sweet dreams are made of bees #munblebee #roleplay #rules #out of character #ooc #maccadams

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reinabeestudio · 4 months

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i've got Sweet Dreams stuck on my head for a few days but everytime i sing it while doing whatever i only can think of that version with joker's gun in it

#yomiel speaks #does anyone remember this meme. it was awesome #just adding more and more shit to this song #curse the people near my house playin this song while celebrating new years last sunday AHAHADHJSBF #tbh i just love this song. its a banger ☝ shrimple as that #sweet dreams are made of bees. there are a thousand bees

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electriceccentric · 2 years

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“I’m about 43% sure I was just an accomplice to a crime and I just need an alibi, so I’m gonna tell you what happened so you’re guilty by association” -(on the wrong blog, but Meitenkun from @nrth-wind)

“Dammit, Meitenkun!

You know I love gossip, tell me everything right now.”

#aklsjdklasj #the WORST role model #+Sweet Dreams are Made of Bees: Meitenkun

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freedomfireflies · 23 days

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Remember Me*

Summary: The one where you and your best friend, Harry, reminisce over the first time he ever ate you out.

Word Count: 3.1k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, brief daddy kink, mention of knife kink + blood kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, pre-consented somnophilia, not suitable for Ramadan!

“There you go, good girl. Just like that. Cum for me, Bee. Right now.”

You squirm, fingers curling into the silky sheets below as you suck in a quiet breath.

You can feel his lips on your neck. Your chest. Your inner thighs. Soft, gentle, devious. He’s everywhere. Purring in your ear, holding your hips in his hands. Keeping you just where he wants you like you’re nothing but a toy for him to play with.

You’ve never been so close. So satisfied, so pleasured. So ready to let go.

And then…you wake up.

Your lashes flutter as you slowly come to. The bedroom is dark. Still. You can hear the fan in the corner of the room and Harry’s soft inhales from somewhere beside you. Your heart is thumping hard and heavy against your ribcage while your dream slowly dissipates into reality. Disappearing into the back of your mind as you remind yourself where you really are.

And then you realize that Harry’s not beside you but below you. His breathing louder and heavier than it was before.

You look down.

And there he is, large body settled between your spread thighs as he holds you open and stares lovingly at the mess you’ve made.

And suddenly, your dream doesn’t feel so distant as you blink the sleep from your eyes and whisper, “Har?”

He glances up, pretty green eyes somehow bright even in the dark. He smiles and his lips glisten. “Hi, baby. Were you having a nice dream?”

You take in a sharp inhale and nod once. “Ye—yeah.”

“Good.” He dips down to kiss your hip. “Hope I didn’t ruin it for you.”

“No…no, I just…I…I thought I was…”

“I know,” he murmurs and kisses the other side. “I know, Bee. And you need me to fix it, don’t you?”

You blink.

“Kept whimpering for me,” he says. His palms dance down the side of your body. Squeezing lightly as though to reassure you. “Begging me to make you cum…to touch you…taste you. Said you needed my tongue.”

Your chest feels heavy as you watch him ghost his mouth up your stomach.

“And I wanted to help,” he tells you. “Wanted to make it better for you.”

He stops, but only to look up and find you again.

“Is that all right, sweet girl?” he whispers.

You nod quickly. After all, the two of you made an agreement months ago that waking each other up with sex was more than all right. You don’t do it too terribly often, but the times when you do…

You almost start to pant.

“Good,” he says, grinning once more as he runs his thumb along your aching cunt. “But I want you to do something for me, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

He moves his mouth to your inner thigh. “Want you…” He travels up your skin toward your pussy. “To tell me…” He brushes his lips over your clit. “What you were dreaming about.”

You feel yourself start to squirm, the warmth of his breath over your cunt enough to send shivers along your spine. “I…I was dreaming about you.”

“Yeah? Better have been,” he teases with a smirk. “What was I doing, hm?”

You watch him poke out his tongue and tease it near your hole. “You…you were doing this.”

He hums. “Was I?”

You nod. “Just…just like you did the first time.”

His eyes flick back to yours. “The first time, hm? When I asked to taste your pretty pussy?”

Another nod.

“Mm.” He shifts a bit on the bed and pushes your legs further apart. “Do you think about that first time a lot, Bee?”

You feel your heart skip. “Yes…”

“Think about how nice you were to let me practice on you?”

“…yes.”

“Cause you were,” he says softly between kisses to your cunt. Not enough to satisfy you, but more than enough to taunt you. “So nice and so sweet for me. Knew I’d never wanna taste anybody else but you for the rest of my life.”

You smile. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” he argues. He sucks your clit into his mouth. “Come on, lovie, you had to know I didn’t really want her. Only ever wanted you.”

Your fingers lace through his hair, and he hums. “You knew even back then?”

“Of course.” He rests his cheek on your thigh, gazing at your pussy almost as though in a trance. “Should have known I’d get addicted. I already was, even if I didn’t realize it yet.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” He starts to pull you open, just to watch the way you clench around nothing. “I’d been addicted to you for years. Just didn’t know why.”

“And eating me out helped with that?”

He chuckles. “Kind of. I really did think I was doing it for Tina, but…the second I saw you, all spread out and dripping…I couldn’t have picked her out of a fucking lineup.”

You squeeze his scalp. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I mean it.” He studies your expression closely. “Bee, I’m so goddamn in love with you it makes my chest hurt. I was in love with you then and I’m in love with you now. Why do you think I kept canceling on her? Why do you think I kept begging you to teach me more things?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “Cause you were horny?”

“No,” he exhales and then kisses your pussy again, groaning into you as though he’s a man starved. “No, I was fucking obsessed. And I still am.”

You whimper.

“So, I want you to tell me everything I did in your dream,” he says, his touch growing a bit greedier now as he slips his middle finger inside. “Every little thing you wanted me to do.”

You arch from the bed and try to stay still. You’re not sure how long he’s been teasing you, but it feels far longer than your dream. And you’re already shaking with anticipation as you clutch his curls and say, “You…you were touching me.”

He grins. “How, lovie?”

You reach for his hand and pull it up toward your chest. “Like this,” you pant, and he groans so lewdly, you nearly cum right then.

He squeezes your tit in his palm, kneading it between those long, nimble fingers before he pinches your nipple tight. Eliciting another noise from your throat. And you’ve never been so glad you went to bed without pajamas.

“Like this?” he asks.

You nod before you’re leading him up toward your throat. “And like this…”

You make him squeeze the sides of your neck until your eyes have nearly rolled back. He holds you gently, but with just enough pressure to make your head pound in the absolute best way.

“Yeah?” He crawls a bit higher up your body in order to get a better grip. “I remember the first time you made me choke you. Such an insatiable little thing, weren’t you?”

“Still am,” you quip, sticking out your tongue.

His smile is sadistic as he spits directly onto your tongue and squeezes your jaw shut. “Swallow.”

You do. And the taste of him—of you—is magic. Enough to have you grinding yourself against his bent leg that’s snuggled between your thighs. And he notices, but he does nothing to help you.

“What else?” he asks between desperate kisses. “Huh? What else did my dirty girl want?”

“Your cock,” you whisper. “Wanted your cock so bad, Har. Wanted you to fuck me like you did that first time. Wanted to ride you…see your handsome face when you came.”

“Yeah? Wanted to cut me up all pretty like you did with that knife?”

You pout. “I didn’t cut you up. I just wanted to see it on your cheek.”

He laughs against your shoulder, and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Still can’t believe you have a knife kink. And a blood kink.”

“I still can’t believe you do, too.”

“Can’t help it. You just look so pretty in red,” he says easily. “Always have. Skin all sensitive and swollen…lips just begging to be bit…blood that looks so beautiful smeared across your chest—”

You grab onto his cheeks and bring his mouth back to yours. Kissing him so hard, he can’t speak. The image in your head is lewd and delicious and you feel his cock twitch against your hip as his body melts into yours.

“Bee,” he warns after a moment. “Bee, this isn’t about me. This is about you, come on—”

“I will. After you cum first,” you insist, reaching down between you to squeeze his tip. “My dream wasn’t just about me.”

His exhale is shaky as he closes his eyes. “Thought we were recreating the first time I ate you out?”

“Why can’t we do both?” you ask, nipping at his earlobe. “You really think I wasn’t imagining what your cock felt like as I watched you? Even back then?”

You feel his wicked grin against your cheek. “Were you?”

“How could I not? You weren’t the only one with a crush.”

He leans back. “You did not have a crush on me.”

“Yes, I did. How do you know?”

“Because you were still hung up on Eric,” he retorts as he moves down your body, returning to his previous position while you watch him go with a frown. “And I was just a convenient distraction.”

“No,” you snort, grasping onto his chin to recapture his attention. He looks at you. “Harry, you were not a distraction. Eric was the distraction. I made myself get over you by getting under him.”

He pulls his lip between his teeth, but it can’t hide his smirk. “Really?”

“Duh. You asking me to teach you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You gaze at him gently and cup his jaw. “Please don’t forget that.”

The tension between you is palpable but loving, and you giggle when he sucks your thumb into his mouth with a wink.

“Then can you let me recreate the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” he mumbles around your finger. “Because it was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I still haven’t gotten a proper taste.”

You swipe your wet digit over his lips and grin. “Then you better get to it.”

So, he does. After all, Harry is nothing if not obedient and you can’t help but feel a touch proud as he kisses his way down your body until those greedy kisses find your cunt.

He knows exactly what you like. Knows how to hold you, tease you, taste you. He flicks you with the tip of his tongue and pulls you open with his fingers. He groans every time you gasp and swallows like he’s never had a drink in his life.

And then…he blows on you. Lets his warm exhale dance across your drenched pussy until you nearly squirm away altogether. You feel as though you’re being edged. Like he’s denying you the only thing you need and you whine helplessly as you plead with him.

He merely shushes you. “You know better, Bee. Come on.”

You shake your head violently. “I can’t…can’t, Har, please—”

He spanks you. A sharp smack of his palm down your clit. “You fucking rush me and I won’t let you cum at all. Is that what you want, sweet girl?”

“…no, Daddy.”

“No, I didn’t think so. So what are you gonna do?”

“…whatever you tell me.”

He hums, wildly pleased. “Good fucking girl.”

It’s masterful the way he sucks and nips and thrusts. A combination of his fingers and his tongue that bring you closer with every curl. Because after all this time, he knows your body. He’s had a year to learn you and love you. The way you taste, the way you sound, the way you feel. He knows exactly how to treat you and my god does he treat you right.

“H,” you gasp as you reach for his hair. Clutching onto those soft curls for dear life as your legs squeeze the side of his head. “Shit, Har…I’m…”

“You looked just like this when I first tasted you,” he mumbles against your cunt. “You had this cute little fucked-out expression on your face…kept biting your lip and wrinkling your nose. Like you were scared to enjoy it.”

“Wasn’t…wasn’t scared,” you huff, but you know he’s right. “I was just trying to help you learn.”

“Mhm.” He swipes his tongue up the length of you, from hole to hole. “Loved getting to see you so vulnerable for me. And you were so eager to let me. Practically yanked me into you.”

“I did not. Not until we got that collar and leash, anyway.”

His lips pull back with a Cheshire-like grin. Another fond memory. “Speaking of, we should dig that out again. Don’t think we’ve gotten enough use out of it.”

“I agree.”

“Good.” He slaps your clit once more before spitting on it and spreading it around. “Maybe I should make you watch your dirty little videos, too.”

Your chest begins to heave. “Maybe…you should.”

“Maybe I will.” And just like that, he slips three fingers into your quivering cunt.

But the moment he reaches his knuckles and flicks his tongue, it’s over. You gasp, whine, shake. Tremble in his hands and against his tongue before you’re collapsing onto the mattress with the sounds of his grunted praise in your ear.

“Fucking shit, Bee,” you vaguely hear as he pushes your folded legs closer to your chest. “God, I fucking love it when you do that.”

And somehow, through the orgasmic haze, you realize you’ve squirted. Something else you don’t tend to do that often. But when you do…

“Shit,” he says again before burying himself back in the mess. Almost as though he means to breathe it into his lungs. He kisses it, licks it, indulges in it. Takes every last drop for himself, despite the way you whimper. “M’sorry, lovie. Just can’t help it. S’my favorite.”

And you can feel a second one already barreling toward you. You're far more sensitive now and it almost hurts to have him continue. But you know he wants a second one. Know he needs a second orgasm out of you and you're powerless to deny him.

He brushes his touch through your folds and pulls you apart just to look at you. Watching your body spasm with pleasure as your hole flutters around the emptiness where his fingers used to be.

"Harry," you plead, a pitiful mewl.

He dives in. Licking and licking and licking like you're a popsicle on a hot day. He teases your opening with his tongue before smoothing it back up. Again and again, he tastes you. Until your cheeks are stained with tears and your body unravels once more.

When you cum, time stops. You bite on your lip so hard, you draw blood. The metallic taste filling your mouth as you push him back and wiggle away from his ministrations. Nearly sobbing from the painfully beautiful overstimulation.

He laughs lightly but does allow you to rest. Pulling himself up until he can place his head on your chest and settle in your arms. “Shh. You're all right, sweet girl. I've got you. It's okay."

You only whimper.

He peppers kisses across your face until your hiccups subside. His touch is much gentler now and he spends the next few minutes speaking softly and bringing you back down to earth. Doing everything he can to remind you that he's got you. Always.

"I'm proud of you," he finally says. "So fucking proud of you, Bee. Do you know that?"

You sniffle. "Really?"

“Mhm. And not just for squirting. For everything. All the time. The way you carry yourself. The way you love your friends. The way you love me.” He nuzzles his nose into your neck. “I’m so lucky to be loved by you.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “Well, I’m so lucky to love you.”

A tender beat passes. Then, he whispers, “Do you think you’d ever wanna get married?”

Just like that, your heart stops. You hope he can’t hear it. “Um…I don’t know. Would you?”

“Probably. Only to you, though.”

“Oh…that’s good.”

He glances up. “I’m not proposing. I mean, not right now. Not like this, I just...I don’t know. I thought I’d see if you…even wanted to marry someone like me.”

“Someone like you?”

He shrugs and looks back down. ��Yeah. I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d be very good husband material.”

Your expression drops. “Harry,” you whisper, dipping down to press your lips to his temple. “You’d be the best husband in the world. No matter the material you’re made of.”

He chuckles again. “Think if we did get married, my parents would have a heart attack.”

“What? Why?”

“They fucking love you. They’ve been trying to get me to ask you out since we were kids.”

“Shut up, no they have not.”

“M’serious. When I told them we started dating, I swear to God my mom sent me like twenty links to engagement rings ‘just in case.’”

You laugh now, too. “She’s so cute. I’m gonna have the greatest in-laws.”

And for some reason, this makes him smile bigger than he has all evening.

The two of you stay like this for what feels like hours. Snug in each other’s embrace, his heart against yours. And you realize that this is where you were always meant to be. Right here, in this bed with him. From the moment the two of you met all those years ago, he was your Harry. And everything after has merely led you to this moment with him.

You often think about that fateful afternoon when he waltzed into your apartment and asked if he could eat you out. You wonder what would have happened if you’d said no. Could you have been okay with seeing him and Tina? Would you have patched things up with Eric, just to distract yourself?

But then you realize, you don’t want to imagine a world where you rejected him. It was a strange twist of destiny that you brought you and Harry together that day. In a position you never thought you'd be in. But if he hadn't, you'd have never known a happiness like this. A peace like this.

You’d never know him. The real him.

You don’t care if he proposes or not. You don’t care what your future looks like. As long as it’s with him, you’ll feel fulfilled. Happy and content in a way you never thought possible.

And the best part is…you know he feels the same.

By the time you start to feel tired again, it’s nearly morning. Soft streams of sunlight are already dancing through your bedroom window, illuminating the beautiful curve of his back. Glistening through his disheveled curls like a heavenly halo.

It nearly takes your breath away.

You count his freckles and moles like stars in the sky. Run your fingers along his shoulders and spine until he snuggles even closer. You've never felt so lucky to behold someone so beautiful.

However, just before your eyes can flutter shut and allow you to finally find a bit more sleep, your phone buzzes.

Confused, you both turn toward the nightstand where the vibration is coming from before you reach for the device plugged into the wall.

“Who is it?” Harry asks sleepily as he nuzzles his way back into your neck.

You read over the message.

And your stomach drops.

“It’s…”

“What?”

“Um…”

"What?"

You say nothing. Can't. You reread the text three more times in an effort to stall and create some sort of explanation.

But your silence piques his curiosity, and he eventually glances up. "Bee? What's wrong?"

Your pulse starts to race. Your palms start to sweat. And even though you know you have nothing to be afraid of, you take in a stuttered breath.

“It’s…Eric,” you say slowly.

And just like that…the tender moment is over.

Harry sits up, expression hard and unforgiving as he waits for the rest.

And you’re almost afraid to give it to him.

“…he wants to meet.”

I cannot believe it's been one year since the story that changed my life 🥹 And I can't thank you guys enough for what you've done for me!!! It was such a silly little story that I was sure wouldn't do very well, but introduced me to so many amazing people and gave me such a new found love for writing!!!

Thank you for being here and supporting me and Harry and Bee for a whole year now!!! I'm actually going to sob 🥹💞💞 ILY GUYS SO SO MUCH!!!

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

Amazing credit for the beautiful dividers to @firefly-graphics 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @harrysgf01 @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @vyctorya @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @wolfmoonmusic @wandasbae616 @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @itsmytimetoodream @floral-recs

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captainsparklefingers · 2 months

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On the other side of things, I love Gertie Bladeshield. She's a delight and I would 100% join the Apiary Society. I know that whole scene ended in absolute madness but I really hope that at least one of the Bad Kids (beyond Riz) actually does join the society.

She made an apple bee! How sweet is that! And she called Fabian on his shit and became nemesis number 2!! I desperately hope her story ends with her being able to summon bees into battle as her combat familiar.

Alternatively, she could team up with Chungledown Bim. The nightmare dream team.

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #dimension 20 fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy spoilers #d20 spoilers

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urhoneycombwitch · 2 months

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golden boy

🍯 honey flavour: Steve’s always been sweet with you. You’re determined to make a deviant of him yet.

🐝 the bees: Steve Harrington x Reader

wc: 2.2k

cw: soft!dom Steve origins, blowjob, throatpie, hair pulling (no physical desc of R besides hair being long enough to grab), R has breasts and a V

foreword: basically Han of @stevenose and anons talked about corrupting Steve Harrington into being more dominant and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. this one goes out to the freak nasties!!!

Steve is your golden boy.

Through years of friendship that spilled over into romance that settled into a happy partnership, Steve has been nothing but kind, patient, loyal, and sweet to you. His warm aura is a comfort nothing else in this world can compare.

In bed, he’s near-saintly: checking in every few minutes to make sure you’re okay, making you come at least twice like the gentleman he is before even thinking about his own release, petting and soothing and kissing at your skin until you’re melting for him.

Steve’s the closest thing to an angel on earth, probably- which is why your recent secret fantasies have felt a little unsettling. Lately you’ve been dreaming about what it would be like to have your golden boy fill out your throat with his thick cock, hands on either side of your head to keep you in place. Or what it would be like to ride him long after he’s come, dripping sweat and gritting teeth until he fills you up again.

You haven’t yet had the courage to bring up these latest fantasies, not with the boy who treats you so softly, who murmurs apologies any time his hands tighten on your hips. It’s not as though your longing for a bit of Steve’s roughness is entirely unfounded- it probably started around the time that you witnessed him kill a Demobat with his bare hands, broad chest heaving with exertion, a dark look in his eyes that made the heartbeat between your legs pound.

Maybe it was a little crazy to be turned on in an alternate dimension, but Steve brought out the wanton parts of you that had previously been buried under people-pleasing tendencies- even if he didn’t know it.

You were pretty sure that with a little coaxing, you could bring out the animal that simmered under his golden surface.

You’re gonna have to start slow, though. Ease him into it. If Steve knew half the dirty things you were thinking he’d probably implode on the spot.

A soft beam of evening sun lights the front room of the Harrington house; Steve’s glasses rest on the bridge of his nose as he frowns down at the book in his lap, lips moving silently as he reads. You watch from the edge of the room, hip propped against the doorway, mindlessly drying your hands wet from dinner dishes on a teatowel until Steve speaks.

“Y’know, I promised Eddie I’d finish this stupid book before Friday but if my pretty girlfriend was gonna distract me I’m not sure how that’d be my fault.” His eyes haven’t left the page, feigning casual, but his smirk grows as you move towards the couch.

“Oh, so you’re gonna blame it on me?” you tease, tossing the towel aside and shaking your head with a tsk. “That’s not very considerate. Seeing as how much of a stickler Eddie is for his deadlines.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t let him be grouchy with you,” Steve says, shutting his book and tilting his knees out a bit so you can stand between them. “You’re too pretty.”

“You’re one to talk,” you counter, fondly, reaching up for his glasses as his hands come up to settle on your hips. You fold his glasses and set them neatly on top of his book, and Steve squeezes at your sides gently.

“My hero, come to distract me. Wanna watch a movie or somethin’? I brought a few home from work, there’s a stack somewhere around here. We could…”

He trails off when you sink to the floor, kneeling in front of him, caged in by his jean-clad legs. His hands rest on your shoulders, a little unsure as he chuckles- “Shit, honey, I didn’t mean- we can just, uh, watch a movie, i-if you want…”

“We could do that,” you agree, with a neutral shrug, gliding your palms up his thighs. “Or you could let me suck you off.”

Steve gulps audibly, and you bite back a smile at the heat that’s already rising pink in his cheeks. His plush lips are parted in a little o, blinking down at you through long, dark lashes as your hands pluck at the button of his jeans.

You can count on one hand the number of times your mouth has pulled an orgasm from Steve’s cock- he’s always too eager to flip the tables, go down on you until you’re the one crying with pleasure. It’s a damn shame, because he has a mouth-wateringly beautiful dick that’s currently filling out with each pass of your hand over the fabric of his crotch.

“I’m pretty good at them, you know,” you tell him, conversationally, tugging the waistband of his jeans down.

“At what?” Steve asks, lifting his hips a bit to help you slide his pants to mid-thigh. He watches, mesmerized, as you stroke him through his white cotton briefs, his hips making short little movements into your touch.

“Blowjobs,” you reply, then lean down to suck the head of his fully hard cock into your mouth. There’s a layer of fabric in the way but based on the noise that Steve makes, he doesn’t mind the friction.

“Oh, fuck.” His hands tighten on your shoulders as you suck, then lathe against the line of his bulge up and down with your tongue. “Oh, fuck.”

When you mouth around his balls, Steve chokes out another swear, hands flying to the couch cushion beside his legs to avoid sinking his nails into your soft skin (although you wish he would).

You lift your head from his lap for just the time it takes to shove his underwear down, and then your mouth is back on your prize, that lovely, leaking tip disappearing behind your lips again as Steve groans in response.

“Shit, sweetheart. Fuck. Feels so good…”

His raspy voice spurs you on to take more of him in, sinking your face closer to the mess of coarse, wiry hair that sits below his soft stomach as your throat invites him in. Steve makes a sharp, choking sound, like he’s looking for air but can’t find any.

You glide back up his length, take him down again, repeating the motion again and again until his thighs are shaking around you, until he says your name in warning, knuckles white on the cushion.

“Not gonna last, honey, please, come up here, wanna taste you…”

Steve’s hands soothe against your upper arms, intending to pull you into his lap, following the same pattern you’re all-too familiar with by now. But this time, you stand (or rather, kneel) your ground, pulling off him with a wet pop and looking up into those chocolate-brown eyes hazy with lust.

“You gonna give me what I want?” Your voice is already a bit raw from having him down your throat; Steve nods rapidly and begins to try and help you up but then stops, confused, when you keep your weight on the ground. “I want you to come in my mouth. Think you can do that, pretty boy?”

Steve’s chest is heaving underneath his striped shirt as he stares down at you, enraptured- you think he’d give you just about anything right now. When he nods again, albeit hesitantly this time, you give him a smile before letting a line of spit fall from your mouth to his cock, the wetness getting worked in with your agile fist sliding up and down his length.

Steve moans, hands flexing around the meat of your upper arms when you take him into your mouth again. You set a steady pace, listening for the hitch in his breathing. There’s a small thunk, and when you flick your gaze up, Steve’s head is tilted against the back of the couch, jaw half-open, eyes squeezed shut under his furrowed brow.

When you slide a hand to roll his balls between your thumb and forefinger, you can feel the effect it has on him, thick cock kicking against the wet pad of your tongue, stomach muscles tensing as he babbles out, “Fucking christ, oh, jesus, baby, yeah, like that, so good, fuck me…”

You alternate a rolling pressure on each of his balls, relaxing your throat and breathing through your nose carefully to take him in further. You’ve never had him like this before, completely gone under your touch, each sound he makes going straight to the wet mess gathering in your underwear.

Steve’s been diligent about keeping his hips planted firmly on the couch, but when your throat suddenly constricts around his length he hisses sharply, body rocking forward despite himself to chase that tightness.

He’s immediately apologetic, pulling you off with big, gentle hands on either side of your neck, thumbs stroking at your cheeks. You allow him a moment of placation, pressing a kiss to his twitching tip- and then you guide his hands to the nape of your neck.

Steve’s fingers automatically twine into your hair as he looks down at you, equal parts nervous and turned on. Your cheek drags against his jeans as you let him guide your mouth back to his lap.

You swirl your tongue over his leaking slit, and his hands tighten around your head- “Don’t hold back, ‘kay?”- and then you swallow him down again.

This time, Steve keeps his hands where they are, cradling the back of your skull as the head of his dick slips past your soft palate; when your throat squeezes around him again, Steve lets out a warbly moan, obeying your instructions and letting his hips jerk forward.

“Jesus, honey. Oh god. Yeah, like that- f-fucking christ, sweetheart. Throat feels s’good, so fucking good…”

The wet squelch of his cock bullying the back of your throat fills the room; locked in place by his knees and hands you wriggle happily, the vibrations of your muffled encouragement sending his hips spasming forward again.

“Fuck, baby, oh fuck, gonna make me come, y’feel so good, angel… so good for me- you want it down your throat? Want me to fill you up?”

Steve sounds wrecked, voice strung thin as his grip gets tight enough on the root of your hair to dull pain, sending a shockwave of arousal to your aching clit. You relax your jaw the slightest bit more, fitting him snugly past your molars with another obscene squelch, spurring him on as your hands find purchase in the waistband of his jeans.

Steve gets the memo. He comes with a gorgeous whine, spilling warm into you while his hips stutter towards your face, rambling sex-drunk nonsense while he fucks your throat.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, baby, yeah, that’s it, m’coming, ah- so good, honey, feels so good, please don’t stop, please please please…”

His cum slides easily down your throat as you wring out the last of his orgasm, swallowing it down until he’s whimpering from the overstimulation. Steve’s hands loosen just enough for you to ease him from your mouth, both of you panting in tandem as your head lolls to rest against his thigh.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he starts, fucked-out, soothing fingers in your hair where his grip was brutal just moments ago, “but where the fuck did that come from?”

With a grin, you lift yourself into Steve’s lap, giving him a mock-pout when he hisses at the feeling of your jeans against his sensitive dick- “You really wanna know?”

Steve’s hands trail up, up again, soft over your arms, cinnamon eyes glassy, looking at you like you hang the moon and stars and everything in between. “Yeah. I do.”

Feeling suddenly shy, you drop your own gaze to Steve’s collar, smoothing the fabric that got rucked about during all that head-tossing back into place. “Um. When we were in… the Upside Down? And you killed that bat. With your bare hands. You looked so… hot.”

The memory surfaces and your shiver in Steve’s arms, spearing your bottom lip between your teeth before you continue. “And it just got me thinkin’. About how strong you are. And how sometimes I want you to- to…”

Steve finishes for you, threading a hand through the hair at the back of your neck again to tug, questioning. “To do this?”

“Mhm.” Your eyes flutter shut as he keeps that pressure, tracking his other hand across your chest and giving a light squeeze to your clothed breast. “Ah- yeah. Think about you holding me down. Taking what you want. Makin' me yours.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, then uses the leverage he’s got to expose your neck, fitting his mouth over that sweet spot he knows you love, adding a flash of teeth that makes you squirm. “I can do that, pretty girl. Just gotta show me how.”

You blink up at the ceiling as Steve works his way across your throat, held steady in his grasp, feeling his cock begin to thicken between your clothed thighs. Your warm cunt throbs, feeling left out.

“Ever heard of the stoplight system, Stevie?”

___

will write a part II if ya’ll have any interest! <3

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #+18 #mdni

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sorbetisfruity · 11 months

Text

I feel like Neige’s ideal type is a literal princess/prince.

Like he sees you in the forest and you’re sleeping or dozing off and animals and insects are just surrounding you. And they’re not hurting you, they’re admiring you.

And he’s immediately like, “I want them.”

Btw, can y’all tell that I love Neige??? And Vil?? Sorry I write about them sm, but GAGSGVS I love them!!!!

Also this definitely ties into my little imagine I did a week or so ago about Vil being super mad if he ever found out you were close with Neige. This is how you two originally met!!!!

ᶻ𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓𐰁✰

You sigh as you step foot in the forest, feeling the wind blow through your hair.

You hear birds chirping and fluttering in the trees, and squirrels and rabbits skittering about.

Finally you get to hear something other than a boring lecture or Crowley.

Why are you here, you ask?

After some much needed begging from you (and your friends and teachers) Crowley is letting you have a week long break from school.

And thank the great seven for that, because god do you need it.

I mean, with 4 overblots back to back, and practically being the school therapist and Crowley’s lovely assistant…?

Yeah you’re definitely a little stressed. And you definitely deserve a break.

A break from school and everyone else.

Your goal today was to not talk to any of your friends. You love them but god, they can be a bit…obnoxious sometimes.

As you walk and think to yourself, you come across a clearing in the woods.

The clearing is covered in plush, green grass. Flowers of all colors grow around it, making it look like a bed meant for a fairy. The sun hits the clearing as well, making the grass just warm enough for a nap.

It looks like a scene from a fairytale!!

..a little nap wouldn’t hurt, right?

….

…right.

You stretch as you step over the flowers, not wanting to break or hurt them. And as you lay down onto the grass, you sigh contently.

This patch of grass was more comfortable than your actual bed back at Ramshackle!!

You close your eyes, listening to the buzzing of the bees around you as you fall asleep…

And as you snoozed away, animals gathered around you, looking at you as if you were some foreign being.

A butterfly lands softly on the tip of your nose, as a couple more cuddle up into your hair.

A rabbit nudges your hand, before cuddling up into your arm.

A doe lays at your feet, and a couple of cardinals and blue jays perch upon a branch by your head, chirping curiously.

You were surrounded and loved by animals and insects of all kinds, yet you didn’t stir from your slumber.

But suddenly, a twig broke, releasing a loud crack throughout the once silent forest.

The animals and insects turned their heads and came face to face with a boy in white.

The boy was young looking, short and had black hair. His skin was fair and well, to put it simply, he was absolutely gorgeous.

With big brown eyes and a round face, he looked as innocent and as sweet as can be.

“Why, hello there birdies!” He spoke softly, yet excitedly as the birds tweeted happily and landed on his out stretched hand.

“How are you guys doing today?”

The birds chirped in response, turning their heads towards you. Who, somehow, was still asleep despite the amount of animals around you.

“Oh..? And who..who is this?” The boy in white spoke softly once again, kneeling down and moving some hair out of your face.

He blushed softly, realizing that one, you’re sleeping, and two?

…you are absolutely ethereal..

“Who are you?..you look oh so..familiar?” You look like someone he’d see in a dream. A dream where he met a beautiful princess/prince and practically married them on the spot.

He touched your face with his hand. He touched you softly and delicately, as if you were made of porcelain.

Your skin was soft and flushed, a result of Vils skincare routine and the sun brushing against your face like a warm blanket as you slept.

Who were you?…

You stirred in your sleep, eyes slowly opening.

And as you began to wake up, the boy in white jumped up and ran the other direction!! Which startled a couple of the animals around you.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up is that your eyes were covered. And as you came more and more to your senses, you realized a butterfly was sitting upon your nose!!

“Well, good afternoon to you as well Mr. Butterfly.” You hummed, smiling as the butterfly flapped its blue wings happily.

“Here, I’m sure these flowers will be more comfortable than my nose.”

You picked up the butterfly gently and set it on a white flower next to you, giggling as it flew off the flower and instead found comfort on your head.

“Fine, fine. You may lay on me. But I really do think the flowers would be….more..”

You paused, looking around and seeing the surplus of animals surrounding you.

“Uh…when did I inherit a petting zoo?” You giggled to yourself, petting the rabbit softly.

The rabbit thumped the ground with its back paw happily as you pet it, leaning into your touch.

You stared up at the sky, realizing how late it was. Your nap was supposed to be pretty short, but it seemed it ended up a couple hours long.

You sighed, standing up and stretching. Paying no mind to the butterfly’s that flew out of your hair and onto the flowers surrounding you.

“It was nice to meet y’all, but I’ve gotta head back.” You spoke, scratching the doe behind the ear, “as soft as this grass was, I don’t think sleeping outside in the dark would be safe for me.”

You waved goodbye to your newly found animal friends, smiling softly as you began to make the walk back to Ramshackle.

But.

“Oof!” “Woah!”

You bumped into someone, landing on top of them.

“I’m so-” You started, before realizing how close you two were.

One wrong move and you two would definitely…

Ki…

No!!!!

Don’t think about that, this is a stranger!

You frantically scrambled off of the person, standing up and brushing yourself off before apologizing profusely.

As the person stood up, you realized it was a guy.

He was dressed in white, shorter than you, and, to put it simply? He was beautiful.

He probably rivaled Vil!!

(Never tell Vil that.)

He had black hair, a round face, and brown puppy dog eyes.

Overall? Total cutie.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going..” You broke the stare you two were holding, hands waving frantically.

“Oh please, it was all my fault!! Don’t worry. I’m fine. Are you okay?” He asked, his face twisted in concern.

“Of course I’m okay!! I landed on top of you, after all.” Oh My Goddddd why would you say that?!?!

“You probably took most of the hit.” You awkwardly laughed out.

“So, what’s your name? And are you sure you’re okay?” You questioned, breaking the silence.

You didn’t know who he was?

Neige wasn’t one to be egotistical, but he knew he was quite well known around Twisted Wonderland.

If anything he was expecting you to ask for an autograph or something.

But this? Someone who didn’t know him?

Now this was exciting.

And as he heard you talk more, he realized something.

He KNEW you.

No, no, not from a dream.

From the news!! From the papers! From Magicam!!!

You’re-

“*ahem*? Hey dude, you okay? Maybe you did fall a lot harder than we thought…I can take you to the nurse if you’d like!” You interrupted his train of thought, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Oh!!! No, no, I don’t need a nurse. It’s nothing. Just got lost in thought.” Neige giggled out, grabbing one of your hands.

“I’m Neige, Neige Leblanche! Who are you?”

“I’m-”

You’re Y/N L/N, you’re from NRA, and you’re the hero who’s been stopping overblot after overblot since the school year began.

He knows you. And he’s been wanting to meet you the moment he heard about you from Che’nya.

Neige stared at your eyes, getting lost in them as you spoke about yourself.

But he quickly snapped out of it when you asked him a rather interesting question.

“So, do you go to school here? I’ve never seen you around…if you were in a dorm? It’d definitely be Pomefiore. You’re way too pretty to NOT be in there!” You said, making his pale face turn pink.

The prettiest person he’s ever met just called HIM pretty!?!

Now he really thinks he’s dreaming…

“But you’re dressed in white. Kids at NRA don’t tend to wear white. Except for Kalim and me occasionally. And that’s only when Rook and Vil have some little outfits they wanna shove me in!” You joked, giggling to yourself.

“Oh no, I don’t go here! I go to RSA!” He spoke softly, ignoring the fact you knew Vil as he moved closer to you.

“That definitely fits you better,” you laughed again, “you look too nice and act too nice to be in NRA.”

“I could say the same thing about you too, you know.” He said almost immediately, the words slipping out of his mouth as smooth as butter.

Your face flushed, looking at him in surprise before looking away.

“I’d say you look even nicer than I do, Y/N.”

Your face darkened even more, not even daring to look him in the eyes.

Suddenly, you were hyperaware of everything.

Especially how soft his hand was on yours.

How long has he been holding your hand?

It’s so…tense.

Are you always this weird around pretty people?

“Anyways, it’s getting late. And pretty people need their beauty sleep, right? I think it’s time you head home, Y/N.” Neige smiled brightly up at you, moving into the next topic with ease as if he didn’t just fluster you to no end.

“But first!! Give me your number, or at least your Magicam. I wanna talk to you more!! You’re so interesting!”

You’ve told the poor boy practically nothing about yourself other than your name, yet he’s head over heels and ready to try and win you over.

You agreed, wanting to talk to him more too.

After all, there’s no harm in talking to a literal Prince Charming, is there?

“I’ll see you later, Neige. Goodnight, and sweet dreams.” You spoke tiredly, yawning as you began to walk away.

“Goodnight to you as well Y/N!! I’ll text you in the morning! Sleep well!!”

And as you walked back to Ramshackle, Neige couldn’t help but giggle in glee as he stared at your number and Magicam.

(You gave him both. You couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes:(((( )

He can’t believe he met his princess/prince, it was just like a fairytale he’d read when he was younger.

Now, he just needs to make you fall for him!!

But how?

ᶻ𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ᶻ 𝗓𐰁✰

I always end up making people unintentionally obsessive/possessive:(((

But luckily, I think it fits Neige.

Bro NEEDS his happy ending and he needs it NOW.

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m00nc4kes · 5 months

Text

I love you.

hobie brown x black! reader

words: 4.5k

rating: mature

summary: You loved Hobie and you knew he loved you. You didn't know it would tear you two apart.

warnings: gender isn't mentioned for reader but they're fem leaning; suggestive and kinda explicit (not really tho); fluff but we descend into angst; author is not british

pt. 2

"I love you."

The words that fell from your lips left a sweet aftertaste. Even so, it had startled Hobie. You could tell from how he suddenly stopped playing his guitar and his muscles stiffened. He openly stared at you with parted lips.

"Pardon?"

After several months of dating and more than a year of companionship, you'd expected a reaction like this. That's how you reasoned with yourself to not let your sweetness waver into a bitterness. So you said it again:

"I love you."

You were tired of dancing around the words, tired of the words haunting your every waking move. You and Hobie's shared sentiment of the words was probably what made your relationship sail so smoothly. But at this point, you were ready to rock the boat and you trusted him enough to not let you fall overboard.

"Ah," was all Hobie said. He moved his guitar from his lap to the spot next to him. "'n what brought this up?"

"Nothin'," you hummed. "Jus' wanted to say it."

"Knowin' I wouldn't say it back?"

"Knowin' you wouldn't say it back."

He watched you with his champagne-filled eyes while you watched the guilt swirl around his face. You reached up to cup his cheek and smiled when he leaned into the touch.

"S'not like I don', y'know," he started off carefully. "It's jus'..."

"Ya don't have to explain, Hobes. I already feel it from you."

When you grew up with love being a double-edged sword, the words would inevitably mean nothing to you. Yet, as reasonable as it felt, there was something about saying “fuck you” to the love you grew up with. And you didn't mind taking that first step alone. Hell, you didn't mind going through the journey alone. But, you hoped that one day, Hobie would take your outstretched hand.

In the meantime, you had no problem feeling the love he had for you.

You reveled in it when he turned his head to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. His lipstick stained it and you laughed. The sound of your delight brought a toothy grin to his face.

“You’re gorgeous, my lovely.”

You blew a small raspberry and turned away. There was something about the way Hobie would compliment you that made your face flush with something oh so hot.

Knowing how you would react, Hobie leaned forward to pepper kisses against your cheeks. It sent a blaze to the tips of your ears as you let out a surprised noise. He chuckled then continued to kiss along your face.

Later on, when you stood in front of your bathroom mirror and saw all of the dark lipstick stains littered across your face, down your neck, and smudged across your lips, you smiled. Your heart was filled to the brim with newly budded flowers and a warmth that you prayed would never go away.

“Oi, ducky! Where’d ya go?” you heard him shout from across your apartment. You released an amused breath and shook your head.

“I’m in the bathroom, Bee!”

You knew he loved you.

You knew it when he performed on stage, pouring his heart into his lyrics while sweat clung to his shirtless form. He glistened under the stage lights as the audience screamed with him. Of course, you’d been front row, screaming right along with them.

Hobie’s solo sliced through the air as his deft fingers moved along the neck of his guitar. It was flawless— you knew it would be. He had practiced the damn thing over and over and over again, so much so that you would hear it in your dreams.

So when you heard the last note ring out, you screamed and cheered, already deafened by the excited crowd who followed suit. Your chest swelled with pride and you screamed out again.

Hobie’s eyes found you in the crowd without a moment’s hesitation. He beamed at you with a shine in his eyes that pierced your soul with a fondness that you couldn’t even begin to match. But you wouldn’t hesitate to try.

You threw your arms up and cheered him on.

Because you loved him.

And you knew he loved you.

You knew it during tipsy nights and after parties at the pub when you two could hardly keep your hands off each other. Liquor flowed freely along your nerves allowing for loose lips and weak legs. There was something about taking shot after shot that didn’t allow you to detach from Hobie.

Not that he minded. You knew that from how tightly he gripped your hips as you threw your ass on him. He caught you easily, grinding against you, and you knew his patience was wearing thin. Your body was hot yet your skin burned hotter under his hands and fingers that dug into you.

The music was near deafening and the dance floor barely allowed any room between you and the other bodies that were touching and sticking to each other. You didn’t mind much. The body you wanted held you close and you needed his patience to break already.

You wanted him to fuck you in the bathroom.

Though, liquor couldn’t drown your logic. With how packed the place was, the bathroom would be incredibly risky, you’d get caught easily. Oh, but the thrill would’ve been amazing.

You pushed your ass against him again and had to restrain your laugh at what you felt. Patience was a virtue, but not a virtue that Hobie would care about much longer.

He managed to turn you around without hesitation and the kiss you received was absolutely sinful. You could taste the alcohol lingering on his tongue and if he didn’t have such a secure grip on you, your legs would’ve buckled.

The kiss was messy, sloppy, and the biggest sign that it was time to go.

Getting through the crowd was no easy feat, but you two found a way out. The cold air hit you like a brick, but Hobie remained impossibly close, sharing what little body heat he had himself. He threw an arm around you, going on about something you couldn’t remember, but it entertained you nonetheless.

You managed to stay upright through desire and unbridled stubbornness. As you two walked side-by-side, Hobie would occasionally kiss your cheek or lean down to nip at your neck.

You loved when he did it, if the dopey smile that spread across your face was anything to go off of. Your heart did happy flutters in your chest and your need for him only grew.

Yeah, you loved him. You loved him. He was going to give you the night of your life and you loved him.

“Hobieee,” you drawled, leaning your head against him.

“Yeaaah?” he mimicked. You laughed loudly and he joined you. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve guessed you two were high instead of completely shitfaced.

You looked at him with that stupid dopey grin of yours and said, “I love youuu.”

His face softened and those whiskey-colored eyes of his were illuminated by the streetlight you found yourself under. He was a beautiful sight to behold and you loved, loved, loved him.

The two of you stopped. He gazed at you with lust-filled eyes and kissed you. Then, he kissed you again, cradling your face in his hands. His thumbs rubbed against your cheeks as he pressed his lips against you again.

He would’ve kissed you again if it weren’t for that oh so stupid dopey grin of yours that refused to stay back, even for a moment. You couldn’t help it and he knew that, so he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You knew he loved you, even if he were too afraid to utter the words.

You said it again and again when he had you pinned under him on his bed. Your desire for each other didn’t waver. The night stretched on and held still just for the two of you.

Your nails dug into his back as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. Telling you how wonderful you were and how good you felt. The declarations were silent “I love you”s that made your toes curl because you were— close.

Oh fuck, you were close.

Euphoria flowed from your body and your pleasure fell from your lips. Through heavy breaths you confessed again and again that you loved him.

And he showed you that he loved you the next morning.

You woke up in an empty bed tangled up in Hobie’s sheets. While you wished the empty bed was your main concern, it really wasn’t.

Your head pounded and absolutely dared you to open your eyes to face the blinding light. The groan you let out came from your soul. Your hangovers always struck you like a truck you couldn’t seem to dodge.

“Mornin’, ducky.”

You grunted out an acknowledgement and heard him step closer to your bedside. He placed something on the nightstand that sounded like glass. The thought of water made you peek open an eye. He stood in front of you only wearing a pair of plaid boxers. You could see the marks you left on his dark skin from last night.

“Got ya some water ‘n some pills.” He spoke softly and you could’ve praised him for it, but your body didn’t agree with you.

With one hell of an effort, you managed to sit yourself up to take the pills and inhale the water. Hobie sat on the bed and watched you fondly. You wiped your mouth and put the glass back on the stand.

Hobie reached forward and touched your forehead with the back of his hand. “How ya feelin’, duck?” He moved his hand to your neck to check the temperature there.

The action was sweet because you never ran a fever with your hangovers, but he was insistent on making sure you were just hungover and not sick.

“Like shit.”

He hummed and flipped his hand over to cradle your cheek. “Figured. Jus’ rest up, alrigh’?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you playfully dismissed him. He leaned forward and kissed your temple.

“Lemme kno’ if ya need anythin’.”

You felt the corners of your lips quirk up as you released a sigh.

Yeah, you loved him.

And you knew he loved you.

Time continued on as it always did. Your hand stayed outstretched toward Hobie, even if you’d nearly forgotten that you had it out for him. Your “I love you”s flew from your lips and came as easy as breathing. You’d taken that double-edged sword and gripped the blade as if it were a handle, telling yourself that it didn't need to be a sword in the first place. The blood that dripped from your hands reminded you that it was okay if it hurt, it would heal. If you tried hard enough, your hands would stop bleeding and fade into scars. If you tried hard enough, the sword would become flowers in the palms of your hands.

Flowers that you could turn around and give to Hobie.

The evening had faded into a cool night that left you cuddled up with your boyfriend. The boat gently rocked along the dock and Hobie pulled you close. His arms were wrapped around your waist while your back pressed against his chest.

It had been a few hours since the two of you decided to head to sleep. Though, you hadn’t considered that Hobie would use that time to acknowledge the flowers you held out to him.

You didn’t know why you had woken up at that point. You were floating between the realm of slumber and consciousness, nothing truly made sense in that moment. Maybe something had shifted and startled you from your dreams, you didn’t know. If it weren’t for your very awake boyfriend behind you, you would’ve disregarded the memory and fallen back asleep.

Hobie had taken to fidgeting and rubbing the fabric of your shirt in between his fingers. They were nervous stims you’d recognized from your time with him, but you didn’t know what triggered his fit.

You were going to ask as soon as your mind let go of the remnants of your dreams.

Hobie released a heavy sigh as if he was building up his resolve for something. He shifted to press his forehead to the base of the back of your neck. Then, like a breath lost to the wind, he whispered:

“I love you.”

He released a shaky breath and pulled you closer to him.

Your mind let go of slumber with a swiftness that left you dizzy. Your heart felt like it couldn’t be contained in your chest any longer. You attempted to keep your breathing even as to not startle Hobie, because obviously this wasn’t something you were meant to hear just yet.

Tears burned at your eyes, so you shut them. Who knew how long he had been speaking those words to your sleeping frame, knowing you wouldn’t hear and wouldn’t say anything in return?

Had he been working up his nerve to finally say it? When had he decided to take the flowers you offered him?

Either way, you were willing to wait for him. The tears dripped from your eyes and slid down your cheeks. You smiled.

You loved him.

And he loved you.

Even now, when you struggled to breathe around the blood that filled up one of your lungs. Wind whipped around you as he swung you two through the city as fast as he could. His voice sounded desperate and way past hysterical, but you couldn’t understand any of it.

You had been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

You knew of Hobie’s secret life as Spider-man, or what he was lovingly called: Spider-Punk. It was dangerous work, keeping crime committed by the government low. But the police force took to using whatever means necessary to keep Hobie at bay, even if it meant fusing themselves with symbiotes and becoming animals.

They knew he cared about civilians, that he had a secret life where he was surrounded by people he cared about. It just so happened that the person he loved ended up being collateral damage.

You hadn’t meant to end up in the mix when you left the store, but you did. The pig had come out of nowhere, losing a fight against Spider-man, and decided you were perfect to change the outcome of the battle.

He bum-rushed you, sending you flying against the pavement, then grabbed you by the neck. You were confused, utterly disoriented. You never saw the pig coming. There were people screaming around you while others ran for their lives.

You gripped at the black, sticky wrist that held you and found yourself unable to breathe.

There was a shout and a very familiar mask entered your sight.

The pig lifted you up and snarled, “Don’t come any closer, Spider-Punk.” His hand dug into your neck and you cried out, scratching at his hand.

“Ya fuckin’ tosser! Drop ‘em!” You hadn’t heard Hobie so pissed in a long time, it had been even longer since you’d heard the fear in his voice.

The pig retorted with something close to a derisive snort. His free hand morphed into something sharp and he went on about laying the law and how it was his job to deal out justice. Your ears rang in your head, you couldn’t understand a single thing.

Then there was a blinding pain. Twice.

You’d been stabbed clean through the chest and abdomen.

You couldn’t remember what happened from there.

But now, you were choking and struggling to breathe. Hobie stopped swinging and leapt from somewhere you didn’t know. You went from staring up at the sky to being blinded by white lights.

Through muffled hearing, you could hear Hobie plead with someone, begging them to help you. You were placed on something then surrounded by people in blue scrubs. Your head lolled to the side as blood poured from your nose and you reached out toward your masked boyfriend.

You knew he wanted to follow after you when you were rolled away, but someone demanded that he stay put. Still, you reached for him.

You couldn’t remember what happened from there.

After that, things were weird. You were stuck in your mind, unable to move your body. Your dreams were oddly vivid during this time.

You dreamt of whispered words in the middle of the night. You dreamt of flowers that blossomed in the palms of your hands. You dreamt of blades that cut into your soul.

When you weren’t dreaming, you stared into the eternal darkness behind your eyelids. Voices would stream past you, always out of reach and unintelligible.

Then you would dream again. Someone would pour you two glasses, one filled with champagne while the other was filled with whiskey. You would always wait for the second person to arrive because why else would there be two glasses?

But the person never came.

Even so, you enjoyed their colors. They were beautiful drinks. They made you long for Hobie.

When you finally woke up, there was a tube down your throat, helping you breathe. You hated it.

You peeled your eyes open and had to fight back the stinging you were met with. A displeased noise rang from your throat, albeit softly due to the tube. It should’ve been an amusing sight, watching your eyes blink rapidly from the little light that came from the room. But it wasn’t.

Everything was dark except for the light that illuminated above your bed.

Your eyes roamed around the room until they landed on Hobie. He was sitting in a chair at your bedside with his arms folded. His head lolled to the side as he breathed softly. He was asleep, but he looked worse for wear.

How long had it been?

You slowly shifted your hand, noticing how much effort you had to put in for the tiny motion. Your body was sore, but you just needed Hobie to look at you with those eyes of his.

Every muscle from the top of your shoulder to your fingertips argued with you, telling you not to move. But why would you ever listen to them? You managed to reach your hand out to graze Hobie’s arm. You hoped it would be enough to wake him and it was.

With a sudden hitched breath, you were met with those amber eyes that you longed for so much. Hobie’s face fell as you watched disbelief flood his features. Then, there was an overwhelming grief that spilled from his eyes.

He said your name as if he didn’t think he’d be able to say it again and rose to his feet. Even in his excitement, he gently cradled your face and wept. Kisses were softly pressed against your face as his tears fell down your cheeks. You held the side of his face and let him cry. You didn’t understand what had warranted the grief to flow from him but it wouldn’t take long for you to find out.

Apparently, you were supposed to be dead. One of your lungs had collapsed while the other had filled with blood.

You were supposed to be dead. A week had passed during your medically induced coma and Hobie had sat with that. You didn’t know what the information had done to him, you couldn’t find out even if you asked.

The months that passed were filled with antibiotics and various medications you needed to properly return from the grave. Your wounds scarred and somehow, you were able to enter normal life again.

Even as time passed, that week haunted Hobie. He woke up in the middle of the night in cold sweats, clinging onto you as he silently cried. He had a hard time comprehending that you were okay, instead allowing something else to seep into his mind.

You hadn’t known about the paranoia until it was too late. The flowers you had shared with him scared him, he couldn’t handle looking at them anymore. If you had known that he believed the flowers were too delicate to be shared with someone like him, you would’ve done something about it.

But, it wasn’t like you didn’t try.

You didn’t notice that Hobie had been acting differently at first. You wouldn’t say he had been distant, he still kissed you and gave you affection. Hell, he gladly attended your doctor appointments with you. You only began to notice when he reacted to your “I love you”s in a completely unexpected manner.

The moment you had uttered those three words, Hobie flinched as if you’d struck him. You didn’t know your words could have such an effect on him and you didn’t think he knew either. Oh, the words left a bitter taste in your mouth and opened up a pit in your stomach.

The two of you stared at each other, neither of you comprehending what this could’ve meant. Your heart raced as Hobie’s eyes searched your face for something you didn’t know. You turned away from him.

“Sorry,” you muttered. You hugged yourself and dug your fingers into your arms.

“It’s fine.” Was all he said.

While you sat with the bitterness in your mouth, you could feel your flowers grow thorns that dug into the scars on your hands. They didn’t bleed, not yet. Even so, you still loved him.

And he—

You knew he loved you.

You didn’t doubt it even when the arguments began.

He had stopped being physical with you in public and you wanted to know why. Every time you asked, he dodged your question or he was vague about it. If you did get a somewhat reasonable answer, he would say that he just didn’t feel like it. You would’ve believed it as much as it hurt.

Hell, you would’ve understood if he hadn’t stopped whispering that he loved you in the middle of the night. You would stay awake waiting for those three words to leave his mouth and they never did. You spent those restless nights staring at the wall and wondering if he would ever say them again.

Where had you gone wrong?

The lack of sleep and the anxiety that plagued your very being made it oh so easy to pick a fight. You two would never outright yell at each other, but the fights only made everything worse.

Even so, you loved him. You loved him even when he flat out refused to go back and forth with you. You loved him even when he walked away from you. You fucking loved him even when your flowers died and turned into barbs that threatened to cut your skin.

And you… you knew he loved you. He loved you right? He had to have loved you at some point, right? He still did, right?

It all came to a head during a particular argument you two had in your apartment. You had finally, finally gotten an answer out of Hobie. An answer to why he was treating you the way he was. And that stupid fucking answer had set you off.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Your hands trembled as you clenched them into fists. Everything was moving too fast, yet so slow at the same time. “What do you mean?!”

Hobie stood in front of you with an oddly calm expression on his face, but you could see the crease in between his brows. “S’not gon’ work between us. Ya not safe with me, ya get me?”

“No, I don’t get it! You do all of this because of that? What sense does that make, Hobie? You can’t do this to me— to us—” You choked up. Your breathing was erratic and it felt like your world was crumbling.

“(Y/N)—”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” You were losing your mind. Things weren’t adding up. Things weren’t making sense. “Why are you blaming yourself for what happened to me—”

“If my identity is revealed, you will get hurt. Tha’ fuckin’ pig didn’ even kno’ ya relation to me and ya nearly died. You are not safe with me.” His words were enunciated and firm, telling you that you weren’t going to win this. And that wasn’t fair.

“If I’m safe with anyone, it’s you! Don’t you get that? I wouldn’t have made it if you didn’t take me to the hospital!” Your words fell on deaf ears as he shook his head.

“You’ll become a target eventually. ‘M not gon’ let tha’ happen. I can’t. ‘M endin’ this.”

“No. Stop it.” Blood rushed to your ears yet you ran cold. You latched onto Hobie’s vest and yelled, “Why are you doing this?! You’re not protecting me like this! So why—”

“‘Cause I love you. Tha’s why. I can’t let ya get hurt again.”

And there was that double-edged sword. Your flowers, your bouquet, it had tricked you from the very beginning and allowed the blade to return and slice open your hands. Yet, when you stared at the unshed tears in Hobie’s eyes, you knew that blood trickled down his hands too.

It had been stupid to think you could morph that stupid sword into anything other than a blade designed to cut your hands.

“Hobie—” your voice shattered as your hands fell to your sides. “God, don’t fucking do this.”

“I—” he seemed to get stuck on the word. He shut his eyes. “I love ya too much to let this go on, lovely.”

Then, he stepped around you and headed for your door. Your voice caught in your throat as you realized that this— this was actually happening. You swore your grip tightened on that goddamned blade as you rushed after him. Before he could touch your door’s handle, you wrapped your arms around him and begged.

“Please don’t leave me. Please. Please, Hobie,” you hiccuped. “Please— I love you, Hobie. Please.” You sobbed into his jacket and dug your fingers into his shirt. You wept and pleaded, “Please don’t go.”

That double-edged sword trembled in your grip as you willed it not to stab you in your gut.

You could feel Hobie’s breath hitch. The two of you stood there for a fleeting moment, then there were gentle fingers uncurling your fingers from his shirt. Hobie held onto one of them and turned around to face you.

Through your blurred vision, you could see tears sliding down his cheeks one by one. He brought your hand up and pressed a kiss to your palm. This time, no lipstick stained it. There was no reminder that the kiss ever took place.

Even with the soft press of lips, your hands would continue to bleed well after the door shut behind him.

You stood there for a long time. Silent. At least until your legs gave out and you slowly fell to your knees, completely and utterly defeated by that double-edged sword. It had aimed for your gut and hit you in the heart. Your blood dripped like tears from your chest.

Once upon a time, you believed the gashes on your hands would heal, but you knew you wouldn’t come back from a stab in the heart.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there on your floor. Even so, as horrible as it sounded and as bitter of a taste it left in your mouth, you knew one thing:

You still loved him.

And he loved you.

would you believe me if I told you everything would be okay?

divider by cafekitsune :3

taglist: @hoe-bie

#hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider punk #writing #spider punk x reader

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dwindlinghaze · 1 year

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breathin

(remus lupin x fem!reader)

summary: remus lupin is a sleepyhead

contents: small blurb, fluff, fluff, sleepy remus is just so :(

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

somedays, things just take way to much energy. looked up; then the whole room's spinning.

that's what remus lupin is going through right now.

he was not able to sleep with james and sirius' loud voices last night. they were playing around until late at night.

remus wouldn't want to be the killjoy. he lets them have their fun just for tonight.

with that being said, the lack of sleep he had was torturing him.

he can feel his blood running and the sky's falling.

he almost fell in asleep in transfiguration this morning, earning a disappointed stare from professor mcgonagal.

he couldn't take it anymore; his lids were super heavy. even if he tried to open them, he still wouldn't be aware of his surroundings because his mind is slowly shutting off.

he wanted a comfortable place to sleep. someplace that he feels the best. then it came to his mind; your bed.

he once heard the spell sirius used to charm the stairs' to the girl's dormitory. though he never tried it, he's going to now.

he arrived in your bed and completely buried himself in your sheets. it smelled like you- which brings more comfort to him. he's one hundred percent sure that this will be the best sleep he's going to have in weeks.

you didn't see him after your third class, you wonder where he is. you had asked james about his whereabouts but james said he didn't know.

so after your last class, you head to your dorm to change to a more comfortable clothes and in hopes of finding your boyfriend in the way.

you creaked open the door to your dorm and made a bee line towards your part of the room.

you almost lost your breath when you heard shuffling from inside. you were sure nobody's in there.

"hello?" you croaked, eyebrows knitting.

"mhhm," was the only response. your heart slowed down its pace when you heard the voice. you knew who it belonged to.

you saw remus sleeping on your bed. one of your pillows under his head and the other he hugged. you almost melt at the sight. you knew from this morning that the poor boy didn't get enough sleep last night. you were glad he found his way up here.

"hi angel," remus mumbled, fluttering his eyes open. his hair was messy and his face was so adorable.

"hi rem, sorry i woke you up. go back to bed," you kissed his forehead.

remus tugged your hand, "stay with me?" he said- almost like a mumble.

"let me change to a more comfy clothes okay?"

"kay.."

you went back to him after changing and he instantly rest his head over your chest. sighing in contentment. "love you."

you chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck because you found that he loves it. "love you too. sweet dreams," you said it so softly, almost afraid if you got any tune louder, remus wouldn't be able to go and find his way back up into the clouds.

#x reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fic #remus lupin blurb

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beesbacktalk · 10 months

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((Hey guys! Sorry I've been inactive for years. I've been on Twitter mostly addictively doomscrolling as one does on Twitter. With Elon killing the platform, I'm back here and I'll try to be more active.))

((I'm still down to roleplay or even just chat in the PMs. Just read my rules.)

#bumblebee #transformers #sweet dreams are made of bees #munblebee #ooc #out of character

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wilteddreamsofbaldursgate · 21 days

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Springtime Caresses

III. Angsty Dadstarion, but it's quite alright.

“Here, papa, here! You have to lie down right here! Don’t move!”

Warm grass tickles the back of Astarion’s neck. With his eyes closed to the bright sun above him, he listens to his surroundings, takes in the bird song and wind dancing through the trees. The static buzz of honey bees. Children’s play.

Life.

He’s not asleep but pretends to be. It’s part of the game, or so he’s been told.

“Sweet dreams, papa!”

Most of his dreams are sweet these days, but he doesn’t mention that, just complies.

The scents of sun-warmed soil and perfectly ripened strawberries carry a promise of summer to his nose, lulling Astarion into a twilight state of content drowsiness. Maybe he will allow himself to fall into reverie, after all. He’s tranced in worse places, and with worse company, too.

But that was a long time ago.

Now, he enjoys ruining his silken shirts with grass stains. Fresh air filling his lungs all day long. The feeling of tiny hands weaving wildflowers into his silver curls.

Even after all these years, this experience will never cease feeling novel to him—the warmth, the tranquillity. This deep sense of belonging.

Peace.

It’s not a sweet dream, but reality. It’s as real as the wild shrieks and laughter sweeping across the meadow. Children jumping over and around him, eager to slay this or that imaginary fiend. The hem of a skirt he mended only last night brushing against his legs. A young boy humming a song his mother sang over breakfast close to his ear.

Astarion smiles, or tries not to, since he’s promised to be fast asleep—even when there’s a sudden tug at his hair.

The humming stops; the laughter fades into displeased groans all around him. Astarion doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that the face eclipsing the sun above him is a much younger version of his own.

“Careful, Miri, that hurts papa!” The boy scolds as he gently untangles his little sister’s hand from their father’s locks.

“Uh-oh!” the toddler mumbles before she helps the boy pick stray sticks from Astarion’s hair. “Bad!”

“Yes, Miri—bad.”

Astarion suppresses the urge to take his daughter’s clumsy hand in his and press a soothing kiss to her small fingers, telling her it’s quite alright. That no harm was done. There never is. Not here. Not with them.

But all he has to do today is feign sleep, so he will reassure the child later when it’s his turn to braid her hair in time for bed.

“Sorry, papa,” another girl calls from near the treeline. “Miri didn’t mean to hurt you! But don’t worry, we’ll protect you from the true beast!”

This time, Astarion cannot help the faint smile tugging at his lips.

It’s a lovely promise, lisped through missing front teeth. And it’s true—most of the time, at least.

These children, this family he helped create with nothing but love and devotion, distract him from the beast prowling the everlasting darkness far in the back of his mind.

Yet, sometimes, distraction alone isn’t enough…

Astarion doesn’t like to dwell on the rare occasions when the beast eventually does find its way to him. It’s tamer now, the years have made it lazy enough, but every now and then, it will probe him. It can still sniff out the weakness he’ll never be able to shed, knows whenever he’s at his lowest.

The beast only lunges at easy prey—it always has.

So, sometimes, when Astarion’s nights are tense with endless whining, misplaced toys and sharp words, the beast breathes down his neck, whispers in his ear.

On your back, boy, right here. Do not move. It will not hurt unless you let it. Your screams have always sounded the sweetest. Are you hurting, yet? Good, it’s because I want you to. It’s what you deserve, you insolent fool. Have you no respect for yourself? That’s why they hate you so, that’s why you’re but a pathetic little boy who’s never amounted to anything that’s why you’re nothing that’s why—

Once the older children perform their duty to scold the youngest among them, the laughter returns. Their faceless fiend is fair game again and all Astarion has to do is sleep, trust in his family’s sweet promise that holds his cure.

Because, as exhausting as it is, he has learned to ignore the beast, become numb to its poison. It’s a thing of the past and he won’t let it taint his future.

Astarion lets out a deep breath. He can feel himself grow tired under the little hands stroking his hair.

“No worry, papa.”

No worry, no. Not here. Not with them. Never with them…

There’s a gust of wind coming from up north. It carries the scents of sickly sweet strawberries and petrichor and, ever so slowly, Astarion can feel his mind slipping.

He doesn’t sleep; he hasn’t in a very long time. Sleep, true sleep, is vulgar and reminds him of death. Instead, Astarion drowns in memories, but even there he’s buried six feet under today.

There are no strawberries in this freshly dug grave, only the stink of decay. The damp wood of his coffin presses uncomfortably into his back while worms and maggots tickle his neck. Eating at him. Consuming him.

His broken fingernails hurt as he claws at the darkness surrounding him—this deep in the ground, all shades of grey are tainted black. Sometimes he wonders if his eyes are even open, but they must be because they burn with tears and blood and dust.

There’s laughter coming from somewhere above. It’s rumbling like far-away thunder; it hasn’t reached him, yet, but the threat of it is already stunning him with fear.

He cannot speak he cannot see he cannot be he cannot—

The laughter isn’t coming from above, nor is it coming from anywhere, really. It’s residing inside his head, this vile laughter that won’t let him in on the joke. And why would it? He is nothing, is he not? All he is is blood and screams and death. Bodies piled atop his aching shoulders, weighing him down.

So why is he moving? Why is he digging through wet soil until he can see moonlight illuminating his path to…

The beast eclipses the moon and the stars shining down on him. It has stopped laughing, though its maw is stretched into an unnatural grin, revealing a pair of sharp fangs—the key to the wounds on his neck. A promise of endless misery.

He cannot stop moving towards the beast. It holds its claws out to him, stroking his hair, scratching his scalp raw. There you are, boy, always crawling back to me. My good, prodigal son—look at you! Do you know why you’re here? With me? It’s because, after all these years, you’re still mine. And you will always be.

“Astarion?”

There’s a light drizzle soaking his skin.

Astarion opens his eyes to a sun that’s crawled past its zenith, taking the music of children’s play with it. The silence feels oppressive, just like the calm before a great storm, and all he can feel are the small, warm bodies Astarion helped create press against him. They’re curled up against his side, lying draped over his legs, clutching his arm. Weighing him down.

No.

Grounding him, always ever grounding him.

He needs to shield his sleeping children from the rain, he thinks, but his arms are still caged somewhere between nightmare and reality.

Fuck, how long had he been out?

Astarion inhales deeply. He just needs a moment to come to his senses.

He can smell rain-soaked cotton, crisp air and that faint scent of magic he would recognise even if he were buried deep in the ground.

Oh, of course…

“Astarion.”

He allows himself a relieved half-smile as the rain above him is coming to a sudden halt a moment later.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, my heart,” Tav says as she steps into the meadow, one eyebrow raised at the sight in front of her. “But what in the nine hells are you doing out here?”

Astarion can only watch as little droplets of rain run down the magic dome enclosing him and the children, tear drops that can never reach them now.

“I’m a sleeping princess, or so I’ve been told. But I’m rather afraid my knights in shining armour fell asleep before they got to wake me…”

Tav joins her family under her shield of magic, strokes the head of the child closest to her as she smiles at her husband.

“I see. May I kiss you awake instead, then?”

“You already have, darling,” Astarion whispers. “But do it again, yes? Just to be on the safe side…?”

His hand brushes the swell of Tav’s stomach as she’s trying to settle comfortably against him. It’s getting rather crowded—the house, life, moments like this—but there’s always room for one more, Astarion thinks.

Tav grins as she sweetly kisses her way from his cheek to his mouth, where she finally lingers.

To Astarion, Tav’s lips taste of freedom, of nightmares swiftly broken. Of home—the best distraction he never dared to hope for. One he never wants to end.

In the distance, there’s a gentle thunder rolling towards the meadow, but that’s quite alright. Astarion knows that it can’t do any harm. Not here. Not with them.

Never with his family around him.

@seaofdaydreams , my dear, I hope you do not mind me borrowing Miri's name for this one ♡