Let me shine a light on you

Tell me that you want me too

Show me that your love is true

Let me shine a light on you

on second thought, i'll give the apocalypse worms a tiny treat. :D a much more coherent post will be made with more descriptive imagery,,, but i just wanted to get this out of my head because it's so scrumptious.

the idea of azul overblotting and the twins making the heart-wrenching decision to kill him because it's not safe for him or them or the entire compound. but maybe you take pity on azul and help him escape in those few fleeting moments of flickering consciousness. so now he just dwells at the bottom of the sea. big overblot tako who is so monstrous and visually horrific, and every now and then the compound shudders because he's trapped down there and he's wailing and sobbing. :( a crybaby until the end.

if you go down into the underground levels of the octavinelle compound and peer out the large window that overlooks the sprawling sea, there's a high chance a milky-blue eye will snap open in the darkness to silently study you from the other side of the indestructible glass. you think his vision may be going bad because his eye never completely focuses on you. still, you try to talk to him through the glass, hoping to gain some closure from doing so.

the surrounding waters aren't safe anymore. thus, the sea is no longer a viable resource for the octavinelle compound. sometimes you visit azul down there, placing your hand against the glass while he watches you with a decomposing eye. he doesn't seem very hostile when you're there. just...sad and lonely. you wonder if he remembers you. maybe that's impossible.

as long as he's pacified, there's less risk that he might destroy the compound.

separate ways (worlds apart) p.2

pairing: eddie munson x fem reader

summary: fuck the ending, just an imagine of what Eddie deserved part 2

warnings: mentions of blood, wounds; 18+, sexually explicit content; angst; not beta'ed

p.s.s once again I’m just having fun writing and now this is just a needed pick me up after that idiotic death, sort of fix it fic

part 1

The pale milky moon shone like a silvery claw over Hawkins. It was unusually quiet. Only occasional barking of faraway dogs broke the silence of the night. You shivered at the night air biting at your bare arms.

Standing outside Eddie’s trailer in a deserted trailer park felt incredibly weird and slightly scary. Many people have left after the so-called earthquake; your parents also insisted on going away but you managed to convince them to stay because of graduation.

You fidgeted at the doorstep, patiently waiting for Eddie to open the door. The chill in the air burned your cheeks and you were ready to knock again but finally, his curly head peaked out of the door.

‘Hey’ you softly smiled. Heart painfully squeezing as your eyes studied his face. Pale and exhausted, dark under-eye circles looked like a continuation of his hollow cheeks, framed by a week-old stubble.

Eddie catches your hand, tugging you inside. He scoops you in a bear hug, closing the door behind you.

‘Missed you’ burying his nose in your hair, Eddie sways you gently from side to side.

‘Me too’ you mumble, voice muffled by his thin greyish t-shirt. It smells like fresh crisp laundry and you know that Eddie has just taken a shower.

There’s a shared quietness between you too. Eddie holds you by the hand, as you follow him into his room.

The wooden floorboards squeak under his bare feet and you can’t get used to seeing him so domestic. The soft, washed-out t-shirt hugs his tired familiar posture. Baggy, cotton pyjamas pants softly rustle as he walks.

Eddie’s room is toasty warm, blinds tightly shut over the window. A quiet music hum fills the room when you walk in. Kate Bush’s voice wraps around you gently and you gasp in surprise.

‘Uncle Wayne bought that especially for you’ Eddie grins, tossing you an empty cassette box ‘He said you can’t be listening to my bullshit music all the time’

‘Oh, really?’

Eddie nods, sitting down at the end of his unmade bed. He looks tired you think. Setting down your backpack, you dig out a can of Pringles and toss it towards your boyfriend. He catches it in his right hand and chuckles looking down at it.

‘Well, I thought that you probably haven’t eaten anything so I stole it from our pantry’ you giggle, kicking the Vans off your feet.

Eddie rubs his hand over his forehead before looking up at you. His gaze fixated on your features, running your body up and down. You know what’s he doing so you try to master the most convincing smile you can do.

‘Hey, baby, don’t you look like that at me…’ ‘I’m totally fine, you know.’

He nods but doesn’t seem to agree with your statement. Eddie reaches out one arm towards you. You take it, walking into a space between his legs where he locks you in with his arms. Nose pressing into your navel Eddie breaths in the familiar scent of your soap and flowery perfume you wear.

You feel slightly startled by his unusually quiet behaviour but the explanations float at the back of your head instantly.

The very real possibility of death and all other crazy shit that you all have seen just over a week ago has been daunting to you every second. This sleepover was your chance and a greedy need to deal together with the aftermath of what happened. Just the two of you alone.

Soft yellowish lamp light flickers over Eddie’s features and you plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

He taps a spot on the bed next to him and you lower down to sit, head resting on Eddie’s shoulder. He takes your hand to kiss your knuckles as you sit in silence for several minutes.

Kate Bush sings the words that are profound now.

And if I only could I'd make a deal with God And I'd get him to swap our places

‘What you did there, Eddie,’ you spoke softly ‘It was an incredible act of selflessness’

‘For the town that actually didn’t deserve it,’ your voice trembled at the last words. You sniffled, hot tears pooling up in your eyes.

‘They didn’t deserve you’

Eddie’s eyes widened in surprise.

Taking your face into his hands Eddie kissed you. Almost bruising your lips to the point that when you pull away you feel your lips sting. A warm tingly feeling spreads under your skin when he looks down at you.

‘You don’t have to pity me, angel,’ Eddie murmurs, soft lips grazing your cheek, ‘I did what I had to’

You kiss his wrist and he smiles, eyelashes flutter. Hands fall down his waist and he hisses at the feeling.

‘Oh,’ your hands dart away immediately ‘I’m sorry, Eds’

He only shakes his head, looking sheepish.

‘Don’t worry’

‘Can I?’ you tag gently at the hem of his t-shirt. Eddie nods and drops his head down a messy pile of pillows.

He peered at you. Eyebrows furrowed, face straight and mouth set in a sharp line. You look so worried and concentrated at the same time, that it hurts him. He’d prefer a smile never leave your face as he never wanted to be a source of worry or pain for you.

Your hands are slightly cold on his skin as you probe it gently. Pale expanses of his abdomen are glittered down with colourful bruises. You bite your lip, frowning.

A deep, long cut lays from the left to the right just inches above his belly button. You can see it is healing, thumb sweeping lightly over the bloody scab.

‘Does it hurt?’ you whisper quietly.

‘No, not really’

‘I’m so sorry, Eds’ you sob, a lonely tear rolling down your cheek.

‘Hey, shhh’ Eddie lifts your chin to make you look up at him. ‘It’s all behind us, right?’

Eddie being Eddie makes a silly face in an attempt to conjure a smile from you. And to his delight he succedes.

‘There we go’ your boyfriend cooed fondly.

You sigh, swallowing down a heavy lump in your throat.

‘I see how you look at me’ you protest slightly ‘You worry all the same as I do…I- I just imagine sometimes what could have happened if Steve and Nancy with Robin didn’t come on time…’

‘But they did’ Eddie says, holding at your wrists. Tugging you down, he grunts quietly at nagging pain as you lay down next to him.

He’s quiet. Staring at your face as if he sees you for the first time. You find his hand, squeezing his fingers. He squeezes back, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

‘I love you, y/n’

You nod, lips silently mouth confession back.

You hide your face in his chest, nose buried into the soft fabric of his shirt. His arm wraps around you, fingers drawing circles over your back.

‘I need you, Eddie’ you confess quietly. Saying it out loud suddenly feels terrifying and you shut your eyes, your senses spike up.

Eddie doesn’t respond. Instead, he runs his hands into a soft mass of your messy hair, lips crushing onto yours.

It’s like an electric shock. Your moves are frantic, but they’re barely registering in your mind at first. The softness of physical touches is light as a feather but inside your brain, it explodes into a million needless all over your body.

Neither of you is strong enough yet.

It takes you a few seconds though to push your jeans down your ankles and throw them into the darkness of the room.

‘C’mere’ Eddie breathes out, palm running over your injured thigh. He guides it over his own hip and you whimper softly at the feeling of your pussy pressing into his crotch.

Eddie hisses when you rock your hips forward, starved for friction.

‘Sorry’

‘No problem’ he says, teeth scraping over the soft skin of your neck.

Actually that hurt like bloody hell but he couldn't bother too much just now. His hand tightens around your neck, thumb sweeping tenderly over your jaw. Eddie’s intended to mark you. There was this thought that wouldn’t leave him after the whole Upside Down party. The thought that you’re his here or there, in an alternate dimension or reality, no matter what.

Lips grazing over a delicate expanse of your neck, he sucks in, making you gasp for air. His other hand finds your tit, squeezing it so that you arch your back like a cat, only giving him full access to your abused neck.

It feels desperate, and needy, clawing at each other as a symbol of ‘God, I was afraid I lost you’

Face dropped down, you tilted your head to return the same affection to his throat, fingers curling at the back of his neck, you give him a half kiss-half bite.

He moans softly.

Fuck, he needs you. So much he didn’t even realise it.

Next Eddie wiggles awkwardly, pyjama pants coming off a slight bit down. You’re holding your breath awaiting what’s next to come as he palms your cunt before moving the soft fabric of your panties aside.

You’ve wound up and out of breath already.

Eddie takes his cock into his hand as you slip onto it. He presses you tight to his chest, you hide in the crook of his neck as you lay on your sides still.

You lay motionless for a while, just him inside you as if it doesn’t feel real.

His hands squeeze your ass when he finally rocks his hips slowly.

You whimper into his skin at an excruciating slowness that he’s moving with.

Not a lot is happening, the two of you barely move, there’s only a slight rub against your walls but you squeal at the feeling nonetheless.

The burning sensation starts to build up between your thighs and Eddie pushes his thumb down your clit, rubbing firm circles.

He can feel the wetness pooling up around his dick as he grinds into you. There’s a weak, half-broken moan before you clench around him. It doesn’t take him long to follow behind you, as he slips his cock out of you, warmth spilling down your thigh onto the sheets. You lay quietly for a moment, only heavy breathing and Kate Bush tape jumping off the walls.

your hand lays on his chest and he covers it with his, pressing a tender kiss to your nose.

‘Promise me that we will never lose each other’

‘I promise’ you murmur before you notice that Eddie dozed off.

The first time he managed to fall asleep soundly since almost dying.

The Raven’s Hymn - Ch 8

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: The first test of many.

AO3

With how enthusiastically the Site Director had green-lit this project, you’d expected the first “patient” to be a human. Instead, an assistant brought in a surgical tray with a deceased rabbit, its fur as white and sterile as your surroundings.

Disappointment flickered in the SCP’s pale eyes when it was released back into the middle room. Despite not being given its preferred test subject, the SCP rallied and proceeded with the surgery. It instructed you to assist by handing it tools from the black doctor’s bag.

Getting to interact with the object was almost as strange as interacting with 049. Whenever it asked you to retrieve an item, even if the name of it was unfamiliar, every time you reached into the bag you managed to wrap your fingers around something and pull the exact tool needed from the bag. You truly didn’t understand why your superiors hadn’t impressed more importance on studying the bag, which could be categorized under its own SCP designation.

Unless it only worked while in SCP-049’s presence. Codependent SCPs were rare but not unheard of. You would have thought it of interest for further study, but you no longer had any say on the matter.

After a grueling two hours that tried your patience to the limit, the rabbit came back to life, or rather its corpse reanimated after being pumped with tubes of strange liquid stored in the doctor satchel. SCP-049 went on to voice such proclamations as these types of subjects are insufficient for true academic study and Homo sapiens are the only animals able to be infected by the Pestilence, and anything less is a sham.

You stared at a speck on the floor.

“You will want to write this down, assistant,” it said following a stretch of silence. You continued to say nothing, almost resentful at being spoken to like a wayward pupil, but you followed it to the autopsy table and picked up a notepad and cheap ballpoint pen that had been put aside for note-taking purposes. You were almost nostalgic for your college days. Shadowed by an overbearing professor and contemplating the downward spiral of your life, it wasn’t really all that different.

You wrote down everything the SCP had performed during the experiment, though you couldn’t explain the liquid being delivered via copper tubes into the mutilated rabbit, or how it was able to move at all.

SCP-049 stared at the rabbit, its continued silence unusual.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“The cure is effective, but not without… problematic side effects.”

No kidding.

The plague doctor returned to its own journal, scribbling down something with that old-fashioned pen you had noticed before. It had pulled it from the black bag, and you wondered if that’s simply where it was stored, or if the pen was a part of the mysterious contents.

The SCP moved away, not paying you attention for once as it slowly paced and scribbled at the back of the chamber. It gave you some breathing room, a chance to not stand so rigid, and you took the moment to look down at the pitiful creature hunched on the autopsy table. The rabbit sat huddled in a ball, milky eyes half closed and nose twitching, all the appearance being miserable despite not being alive.

Some of your coworkers were more comfortable using animal test subjects rather than D-Class whenever the rare test was needed, but you didn’t see why it was better to be comfortable with this. Causing suffering for a tidbit of knowledge that would gather dust in a file cabinet somewhere. You should know, you used to do the filing.

Maybe you had been spoiled working in the Cryptopsychology Department, where tests with live subjects were rare and generally not fatal. Or maybe you realized you had more in common with the rabbit.

You reached out a hand and stroked the rabbit’s back, wanting to give it one last gesture of sympathy.

As soon as your fingers made contact, the animal collapsed, its eyes empty and truly dead.

SCP-049 stopped pacing.

You stared at your fingers, searching for a sign that anything was different, but there was no reason it should have happened—

SCP-049 snapped its journal shut, put it down on the counter very slowly, and approached the autopsy table.

“What did you do?”

You backed away, retreating from its low voice as if it were a snake. The change in its whole demeanor was sudden, its broad shoulders rigid and its eyes as cold and grey as the table.

“I just… touched it.”

SCP-049 picked up the rabbit and scrutinized it for a moment before its icy stare fixated on your face.

You took another step backward as the SCP gently placed the animal back down, and your heart leapt in your throat when it slowly rounded the table and stalked in your direction.

“What. Did you. Do.”

That quiet, metallic voice was underlined by something that froze your spine.

“I didn’t do anyth—”

The SCP rushed forward, grabbed you by the base of your throat, and shoved you backwards until you hit the wall.

“Look what you’ve done,” it growled, the curve of its mask almost touching your cheek. “You’ve ruined it! Now I have to start again to correct this heinous error.”

Its fingers tightened around your throat, and you choked for air.

“I cannot perfect my cure with such sabotage.”

You grabbed its wrist and tried to pry it off, but the SCP was inhumanly strong. After a moment, it relaxed its grip enough for you to gasp, and you gulped in precious air as your heart hammered wildly.

Its masked face loomed entirely in your vision, its cold stare as heavy at the hand at your throat.

“You are the student, I am the teacher. Do not interfere with my work again. Have I made myself clear?”

Before you had a chance to catch your breath and come up with some sort of answer, mist drifted from the ceiling, and you caught the medicinal scent of lavender. The sedative should have worked quickly, but the plague doctor continued to hold you around the neck, its ravenous gaze on your face still alert.

Whoever was in charge of the test must have come to the same conclusion you did, that the lavender was no longer as effective as it once was, as three guards rushed into the middle common room. SCP-049 didn’t acknowledge their presence until one prodded its back with a shock baton.

It growled but kept its grip on you, even as it was shocked again and again, until it finally released you with a snarl. It turned on the guards, its voice risen in pure rage.

“You must not interfere!”

The guards turned up the voltage on their weapons; it only took two more hits for the SCP to drop to the ground, grunting in what sounded like pain, the metallic wheezing from its mask strained with effort.

They didn’t stop there. Your would-be rescuers were without mercy as they continued to beat and shock the SCP even when it no longer gave resistance.

You picked yourself up from where you’d slid down the wall, your throat raw and ragged but your words still clear.

“That’s enough!”

None of them paid you any attention, continuing their ruthless beating.

Oh, God, you thought. They’re going to kill it.

“Enough!”

You lunged between two of the guards, hoping your presence would interrupt the frenzy. All it earned you was a pair of hands dragging you from the room, your last glimpse of SCP-049 was of it curled in a protective position on the floor, reminding you more of a rabbit than a monster.

Next Chapter

Day Five: Barbarous

In the cold, and the darkness, Zenos waited.

The Ascian had promised him the world, singing honeyed tunes of destruction and death, where retribution and blood rained down like starshowers. Dull, and distasteful, but holding a glimmer of potential nonetheless, and one that Zenos tolerated to its barest extent. Each piece of this scheme shone pale and dull, scuffed against the mortal mechanisms that were beneath his anger, or even his notice.

Entombed in the steel spires of Garlemald’s fallen palace, Zenos sat, chin in hand, staring into the darkness with a blank, unseeing gaze that was unchanging as whenever he looked upon any other living or inanimate object beneath his notice. Man, woman, child, flea; they all measured to the same barbaric worth before his impassive gaze. Even the Ascian’s plan held only singular goal, channelled towards singular, unparalleled bliss.

She was all that mattered.

Absently, the disgraced prince ran one lazy finger along the edge of the throne he occupied, feeling along the edges as though it were a blade. Somewhere, out in the cold, she was close. Somewhere, her weight, real and warm and breathing with unfiltered life was fracturing the ice of Garlemald, calling him to her. Her saviour complex had brought her ever closer to him, circling him like an animal seeking prey. Soon, tantalisingly soon, he would face her again, once more bringing forth that base desire of hers to hunt, kill, and destroy.

He’d seen it once, in those armageddon eyes of hers, piercing deep into his own as the blade had slid across his throat, warm blood filling his mouth until he knew naught but silence.

He’d kept it burned into the backs of his eyelids, as he’d traversed the star, returning himself to life, and limb, and that same, unwavering desire to once more feel that rush in his veins.

Only she had ever managed to provoke it.

Only she was worth the trouble of dealing with maggots. 

He would dirty his hands however she wished, if only for the chance to face that exquisite, beautiful rage of hers again.

He would understand her, this time. He would know his mortal enemy, his dearest and most beloved, inside and out, by the time they faced each other on the battlefield again. This, the Ascian had assured him, would be possible with very little effort. The puppeteer’s brazen disregard for his dear friend’s abilities irked him – it was, after all, a reflection of his own skills then, that she had once bested him – but irked him as a fly irks a wolf. Easily batted away, and beneath most notice.

What mattered was her. Only her.

Absently, Zenos ran his fingertips idly over the smooth arm of the throne, thick as bone and nowhere near as satisfying to grasp. It was nowhere near what he needed, which was to have her under his hands once more, violent and snarling, teeth bared and that steady pulse nearly a beacon against her throat, one nearly asking him to reach out and take from her everything that he could have ever wanted. 

And wasn’t that an intriguing thought to follow.

An indulgence, then. One born of thoughts barely birthed, and only recently attended to as his waiting for her grew weary. 

His hands, circled around those slender, bird-boned wrists of hers, tightening to find the exact pressure point where they snapped. His nails, scraping curled rivets into the milky, unblemished skin of her thighs. His fingers, fitting along the hollows between her ribs, pressing in and in and in until he could find the very core of her. He found no satisfaction in the base savagery of a kiss, but he thought that maybe tasting the very marrow from her splintered ribs could come nearly as close.

Alone and unfettered, Zenos’ breath quickened, just enough to spark the slightest flicker of amusement in his breast. 

Yes, he mused, more satisfied at a hypothesis found correct more than the banal pleasure he found in his fantasies. Yes, of course.

Only her.

The Ascian would make it so, delivering her to him on a golden pedestal, and Zenos relished the anticipation of the moment, even as he betrayed nothing but indifferent calm.

He needed to know her, to consume her, in every definition of the word. He would split apart her lovely skull, press his fingertips behind those blazing eyes of her and find where the colour came from, watch it leak from her irises as he sought out the light behind them, that haunting brightness that followed him even in death. He would unspool her veins from her severed throat, as like gossamer scarlet spider webs dancing across his palms as he found the map of her very being, unravelled it for him, and him alone.

Perhaps, he mused as a value afterthought, more bestial – carnal – pleasures would be satisfied before the more ethereal. It would depend, rather, on his whims in the moment, and where their moment of ecstasy brought them.

And would you welcome it, my dearest companion? Or will you gift me the look of fear that I so covet to see fall deadened in your gaze?

Clicking his tongue in disdain, Zenos straightened in his seat, shifting position to lean on his opposite elbow. The small movement jarred him out of fantasy, and firmly back into practicalities. 

She wouldn’t show fear. Never her. Fear was for base animals. Barbaric, savage creatures.

They alone, destined to meet in celestial bliss, rose above that banality.

And how he craved it. The sweet release of carnage and death that only his closest friend could offer him.

“Soon,” Zenos found himself muttering to himself lowly, his voice haunting an echo in the empty, cavernous great hall. “Soon, we will be reunited.”

“And at last, you will understand.”

Picture this: they're in church. The priest is reading a psalm. Terry looks over to see his pious sweetheart looking at the priest with large eyes, full of holy love. Terry's eyes flicker to the pretty yellow blouse Daniel's in, his small tits almost noticeable because Terry convinced Daniel it's a sin for nursing omegas to wear bras.

"Pups need to smell you. A bra would mask it. You wouldn't deny your puppy that natural bond, would you, honey?"

Yummy little caramel nipples sit high. Terry remembers how those tits shook as he fucked Daniel like a two-bit prostitute earlier that morning. He leans over and whispers "everyone can see your perfect breasts, sweet one. Everyone knows I made them, it was my seed that changed your body. There's not an Alpha in here who won't look, who won't wish they could get their mouth on them."

Daniel gulps, takes a deep breath in. Terry sees how his mate tightens his thighs, afraid of getting wet in church. Of course that spurs Terry on, whispering, watching Daniel's nipples harden.

"Your omega clit starting to throb, my baby? What would you do if I put you on my lap? I bet I could finger you during this service and not one Alpha, not even the Priest himself, would stop me."

Daniel's blushing, he's biting his lip, flushed as Terry's fingers inch up his thigh.

"Not here, please, Sir," his angel begs, so quiet, "G-God would be displeased."

Terry holds back a scoff.

"You're leaking, pup," he winks, "go tend to my daughter. I'll be through in a moment."

Daniel scuttles off, cute as he tries to hide his perky, milky tits from the congregation and go to the Sunday School club in a small room outside of the church hall, where pups are cared for by minders whilst the churchgoers worship.

😈

They arrive at church - Daniel insisting - and Terry bends down, pressing a kiss to his omega’s mop of dark hair, whispering that he’ll be back.

A sudden commotion - Daniel clutching their daughter tightly as one of the various beta staff who look after the kids in daycare/Sunday school tries to take the baby.

Terry walks back over - wondering what is causing his little omega to act out. His manners are impeccable in public - he knows that as Terry’s bonded mate that he is regarded as an extension of his Alpha and as such, his behaviour reflects on his alpha.

Daniel is refusing to hand their daughter over to the beta who is only trying to do her job - children under a certain age do not attend the sermons.

“Daniel, sweetheart,” he starts, “it’ll be okay …..” he starts, but he doesn’t get a chance to finish. Big brown eyes turn to him and Terry can see the unshed tears and he sighs.

The boy has him wrapped around his little finger although, Terry is glad Daniel doesn’t recognize how much power he truly has.

The fact Terry is even standing in a church is testament to that.

“She’ll be going inside with us,” is all Terry says. As not only an alpha, but the wealthiest and most powerful in the city, what he wants, he gets.

His younger mate next to him, and the fact that he had already given him their first child within a year of their marriage, and is probably currently carrying their second, is testament to that.

Terri can see her hesitation, but, then she catches herself, before inclining her head slightly in deference to the Alpha’s command. “Of course, Sir. We will be here if your omega needs help.”

Daniel bristles at that, and Terry suppresses the urge to smile.

“Thank you but, if she starts to fuss Daniel will be able to take care of her.”

His little mate has taken to caring for Sam as well as took to pregnancy - easily. Clearly he was made for it.

He turns to his little mate. “All better now.”

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles, as he clutches their daughter - who seems to be picking up on Daniel’s distress and Terry shushes him.

This being his first pup - His little mate is having a hard time controlling his instincts, something Terry is sure will become easier the more pups Terry puts inside him, although Terry suspects their second is already growing safe inside. Which is probably another reason contributing to Daniel’s behaviour.

That’s Terry’s doing so, he can’t fault him there.

“I don’t know what came over me the, I …..”

He falls quiet when Terry lands a hand on his shoulder, massaging the scar over his mating gland.

Terry suspects Daniel doesn’t realize it yet - despite never being empty - of Terry’s cock and come - they had been told that as long as he was nursing, pregnancy may not come as quickly as the first but Terry makes sure to keep his little omega is always full of seed.

It’s dripping out of him now - Terry had fucked his cunt full before leaving - he wanted everyone to smell his claim on Daniel - as if the baby in his arms and the scent of milk coming off him, clear to any alpha, weren’t enough proof of claim - but he wanted everyone to smell his scent coming out of him - Terry can smell how damp his panties are with it.

Not that Daniel complains - always more than willing to lie back and spread his legs - especially now - his hormones making him more aroused and desperate for his Alpha than normal.

“Never apologize for your instincts, sweetheart. They are impeccable.”

The scent wafting off his omega at the praise has Terry wishing they were alone - he’d have the omega bent over, his cock inside, hands on both of his gorgeous tits.

“If you wish for Sam not to be separated from you, then she won’t.”

Terry leads him through the church.

They sit through the sermon, and Sam sleeps through more than half of it but when she wakes, she starts nosing at Daniel’s chest as best she can, mouth open, searching for a nipple to latch onto.

She’s making noises, not quite crying, more hungry noises of frustration but it does the trick, Daniel leaking through his nursing bra and shirt, two wet patches appearing where pert little nipples are.

Daniel tries to stand but, Terry’s hand on his arm stops him and Daniel looks confused.

Terry gestures for Daniel to open his shirt.

He blushes - “Terry, I ….” Normally they’re home whenever Sam has to feed, and he had wanted to pump before leaving, to have a bottle to bring, but Terry had told him it wouldn’t be necessary. Daniel had assumed it was because Terry was trying to get a quickie in before leaving.

“Sam is hungry, aren’t you baby girl,” Terry coos to his daughter.

Daniel glances around - wanting to obey the alpha, also wanting relief of the pressure on his heavy chest as Sam tries to latch on through his shirt - but there’s so many people around .. and the priest …..

“Would you put your own mild discomfort over my hungry pup?!” It’s said without heat though, and Terry places his hand on his face to take out any sting of the words that Daniel may perceive. “You have to get used to it sweetheart - nursing in public - you won’t always have somewhere private to go …..”

This was another reason Terry had wanted Sam in with them - his omega is young and being bred so soon - Terry’s seed had taken the first time he took Daniel on their wedding night - he is prone to shyness where it needn’t be. Something Terry is going to help him overcome.

Terry unbuttons the omega’s blouse, hard nipple already poking out through the slit of the nursing bra, white beading at the time, and Sam latches on, sucking greedily.

The alpha allows him the privacy of this way for now, but next time he will have the omega pull down or lift the bandeau.

He really does need to get used to this - his role as Terry’s omega and doing what nature intended.

That and the alpha wants everyone to see exactly what his omega’s body is doing because of Terry - because of the seed he put inside him - of the baby Daniel grew from it - the baby he grew for them.

Give a few more months and the brother or sister currently growing stronger inside him will start to show. The omega looked so gorgeous pregnant with Sam and then after, breasts round and full to feed her - small brown nipples that darkened alluringly. Terry can’t wait to see him swollen with another child and his tits now that there’s a child to feed and another inside.

She finishes, and Daniel burps her, not bothering to cover up first, and Terry swipes a finger over the nipple, bringing his finger to his mouth, tasting the omega’s offering.

Sam sits cradled in Daniel’s arms through the rest of the service.

The priest praises Daniel after - remarking on how well he’s taken to married life.

“and the marital bed,” Terry remarks, hand on his mate’s, as for now, flat stomach.

Ronancetober #2 - Vampire/Werewolf

“The Vampire and the Moon“

In the dark of the forest, her back tacked to the splintery brown bark of a tree, Robin opened her mouth filled with ruby teeth and spat out a clump of red. She wiped her flannel sleeve under her likely fractured nose rimmed with blood, bruised like a peach from head to toe, lungs filtered by clay. She didn’t want to cry; she didn’t think anything good could come of it. She held all her anger and tears under her ribs, under her jaw, pinned them down until some day they would blow up and rip her apart. 

But then she looked up at the stars, and she felt that the ache could be patient for a while longer. 

“I don’t know how the hell am I going to explain to mom all these bruises,” she said, lifting up her shirt an inch as a gesture, then spat another red clump. “It’d be easier if I just died right here, don’tcha think?” 

The moon was full, so Robin hoped she wouldn’t be taken seriously. The wet earth swamped around her legs, moonlight swirling in the rivulets, somehow smoothing the smarting in Robin’s eyes and nose. The red disc that smothered the center of her shirt, growing like a blackhole, barely hurt anymore. The trees around her seemed more like shadowy black sticks standing up vertically rather than actual trees, which saddened her; she would have liked trees to be the last thing she saw. 

“Guess I won’t have to explain anything to mom after all—”

“—Hello,” said a voice, but Robin’s head was becoming deadweight for her neck. Her chin pinned itself to the dip of her clavicle. “You’re bleeding profusely.”

She froze at the sudden bronze voice, like their presence alone could kill her much faster than fate intended, but it seemed that a mouthful of blood and a hole in your stomach could grant strength during dreadful moments such as these. Robin remarked, her thoughts becoming numbed from the empty flesh, "Gee, I couldn't tell. I'd thank you for telling me, but I'm afraid I can't even raise my head—"

A spectacular finger stretched from beneath Robin's chin and brought it up, allowing her to glance up at the stranger who had so graciously informed her of her problems.

A very lovely, yet painfully familiar face greeted Robin. The pinched, pointed, milky face of Hawkins High’s princess, Nancy Wheeler, which, in Robin’s head, was also known as the world’s most perfect girl. But perhaps her blood loss was playing a trick on her, for she swore that Nancy’s irises had changed color. A much darker, terribly deep ocean blue. 

She was frowning, and Robin remembered how much she hated Nancy’s frown. Her brows were tacked together in what appeared to be concern, the moon’s hand cupped her face and rubbed its thumbs into her eyes until the sparkled with shimmery particles. The rest of reality flooded out of Robin’s line of sight and zeroed in on those magnificent blues and whites, fluttering stars haloing blown pupils. Nancy made a noise that filtered through water, coming out muffled in Robin’s ears--

Were those fucking fangs I just saw?

Nancy spoke again, tossing Robin’s head side to side gently, and this time the white prongs in her mouth were more visible. They were curved, like tiny tusks corked into her gums that slipped over her lip curiously and gleamed like moonstone shot with a direct beam of light. Somehow, Robin’s heartrate spiked three more beats per minute. Whatever blood was left in her flesh ran cold, and she was suddenly aware of the blood staining Nancy’s clothes and once pink lips. 

“You’ve... You’ve got—”

“Shh, don’t talk, Robin,” said Nancy, fumbling with her hands, changing to sit on her knees. Her dark eyes flickered; her tongue licked the left fang almost unsurely; then she pressed a thumb to the center of her wrist. Her brain fought itself before she quickly straddled Robin’s legs, her teeth protruding entirely in their ivory glory. Robin panicked: she did not think Nancy Wheeler would be into dying girls, let alone girls at all. 

It would suck if Robin had had somewhat of a chance with her princess this entire time just for her to find out right at her deathbed.

Nancy then brought her wrist to her mouth and sunk her teeth skewers with barely any hesitation. Blood gushed from the perforations like pulp, and she unlatched her mouth from her flesh dripping red, the tusks now bloody spearheads. 

Nancy said, “All right, this is a bit gross, but I’m only trying to save you, so bear with me,” and thrusted her open, leaking wrist into Robin’s mouth. 

Her eyes turned to plates of horror, but she could hardly move to react: her body had gone practically limp of life force. She reluctantly tried to use her tongue to shove the princess’s limb away, but Nancy only used her other hand to tilt back Robin’s head so the blood would go down her throat easier. 

When the first gulp of blood got through, Robin’s body instantly jolted as though electrocuted. Her muscles thickened around her bones, her flesh; lightning bugs crawled behind her eyes and nuzzled into the crevices of her skull; she was suddenly aware of all her teeth, biting into Nancy’s arm, draining her blood, wishing it could be injected directly into her veins. She hardly noticed how all her wounds began to seal up with imaginary stitches, as if they had never been there in the first place, even the wound in her abdomen was gone; only phantom pain rippled under her skin. 

The exhilarating sensation flowed through her system like the sun was lodged between her ribs, its light snarled her bones, diffusing shots of blazes that scorched her very soul; she had never felt more alive. 

But then Nancy delicately took her wrist back, placed her hand on the side of Robin’s face, and sunk her eyes into hers as if to make sure her soul had not burned entirely to ashes. 

“Okay... Okay, that was good, right?” She smiled feebly, her fangs a shiny white again, rubbing her thumb beside the little wing of Robin’s ear. “That was good, Robin. God, that was good. I was so scared...” Her voice cracked at the back of her mouth, then she stood, scrubbing the blood dribbling down her arm on her trousers. “Don’t get into any more reckless shit, okay? If you remember any of this tomorrow, I’ll... I don’t know what I’ll do. But don’t report me; that’s not going to help either of us. And I’d offer to take you home, but I have no fucking idea how I’ll do it without getting caught...” she added exhaustedly, harrowingly, mostly to herself, and she frowned that damn frown that Robin still hated. 

“You know what? Forget it, let’s do this.” 

And suddenly air was smacking Robin’s face, rushing uphill, and she found that she was up in the air, cradled in Nancy’s surprisingly strong arms; yet she had no voice to scream. Her eyes flickered, but even blinking was difficult. All the energy she had received for Nancy’s blood had settled, present but dormant, sizzling where her injuries once used to be. Stars blurred overhead; Nancy hopped from roof to roof, accomplishing alarming leaps that tossed Robin’s heart into her throat. 

Nancy looked terribly beautiful from this angle; the moon seemed to adore her as much as Robin did. Feeling as weightless as a bag of feathers in this sudden anomaly of a princess, Robin closed her eyes and let herself sink, only hoping that she would remember in the morning. 

-

Second ficlet for ronancetober (created by @lionydoorin so go check out their legendary art right now). I think I made it too long. Apologies from the intercom. 

Plot Drop 4: Here Be Monsters

As the evening of the fifth day drags on, another flash of light works over the horizon, this time in green. A dark shadow much larger than the already massive pirate ship lurks below the water, threatening to cut the surface. It moves quickly around, as if attempting to choose its prey; however, the sound emanating from the ship draws its attention. At exactly eight o’clock, the monster emerges, face first –only a quick flash as it takes a chunk out of the starboard side of the ship.

A watchful eye may catch sight of it – a snakelike creature, or perhaps it was a dragon? Whatever it was left the ship now splintered and slowly sinking into the murky depths. Less than five minutes later, as the ship is now halfway into the water, the creature appears again, to gnash at the vessel. Once the ship has fully sank, the serpent slithers around the various islands with remarkable speed, towering over the tributes with the goal to eliminate all who trespass on the isles.

Revered in folklore as the leviathan; whispered in hushed tones as the harbinger of doom, this monstrous entity's very existence strikes terror into the hearts of all who dare to gaze upon its enormity. Its gargantuan head eclipses the size of the ship itself, its gaping maw armed with teeth akin to the ship's main mast, poised to rend and tear. The rest of its body, though hidden in water, spans upwards of three-hundred feet. On its back are fins that spike out to assist in its speed. Scars mar its colossal body, remnants of futile attempts by brave souls to vanquish the beast, each scar a testament to the creature's enduring resilience. Yet, amidst its formidable stature, one vulnerability remains – a hazy, milky eye, a glimmer of weakness amidst its monstrous form. A glint of hope flickers for the clever and daring, a chance to deliver the seven seas from this monstrosity once and for all, if only a bold tribute could exploit its blind spot and shatter the terror that looms across the isle. 

Misadventure May Day 14!

Prev

New pov tee Hee :-)c

———

14. Secret Cave

Rigel is kneeling in the dark with dust in their mouth and a bleeding creature at their backside. They can still see the stars, a smear of blue and white and green along the ribbon of sky in the mouth of the canyon above, but below, there is nothing.

No yellow lit face carved in a smile, no man of lights, nothing.

They lean back from the whistling lip of the outcropping, pelvis scuffing against the rocks as they rest gently against their knees.

Some say the canyons stretch down forever. Trenches from the old war, they call them. Bass says they used to be oceans, big bodies of water that stretched blue and grey to the horizon and washed milky foam up on the shore. But they’re all dried up now. All gone.

Rigel reaches down to fiddle with their belt, focusing on the knives that clink together when they curve their thumbs in and trying not to feel the ache of the missing weight at their hip.

It’s so quiet.

“Fuck,” they whisper to themself.

They’ve gotta go find them. If there’s a chance they’re down there somewhere, they’ve got to. Endless or not, dangers be damned.

Rigel sighs. “Well,” they get to their feet, turning to face the groaning lump of the creature, “it’s been quite a lovely ride, but seein’ as I’m down two partners I think this constitutes the end of my work duties.” They nod at it. “Best of luck to yourself, and don’t be goin’ after that town if you make it outta here, they’re not a fan of you. And if you don’t make it out, then be sure to come back in a few centuries. Think you could really rock the sun bleached look.”

They feel around until they find its heaving side, giving it a good, firm pat.

“Get some rest, friend, and try to wake up from it.”

With that, they feel to the rocky wall, and begin their slow descent into the darkness.

***

It’s a long time before anything changes. Rigel’s fingers dig into stone notches and dried bits of things they can’t see, and every time they miss a foothold they skid a few bumpy feet before catching themself again. It’s slow going, but they make the best of it. They hum jaunty little tunes to themself, and wiggle their torso as they feel for each grip, and pause every now and then to listen to the vast, windy expanse around them.

Eventually, their foot misses stone and sinks into something soft instead, and they stop.

“What’s this now…?” they mumble.

They flex their toes, feeling sand loosen around the joints. Rigel shifts down a bit further, far enough to run their foot across the surface, and feels more of it crumble away at their touch. It seems thick enough to hold weight, at least, and there’s a vague incline down pressing against their shin. They hum thoughtfully.

“I wonder…”

Jerking themself back up the canyon wall for a better grip, Rigel reaches up into a notch in their ribs and digs around for a small flare lodged there. It catches on the tacky amber as they pull it out, and they nearly fumble it, blowing out a sound of relief when they don’t. Bass is usually the one to provide light on jobs, so Rigel’s thinly stocked. This is the last one they’ve got now, so heaven hoping this is worth it.

Cracking the top with their teeth, Rigel spits against the warm bloom of sparks in their mouth before holding it out over the abyss. The flickering light illuminates pale sand below, close enough for them to make out a curved slope away from the canyon wall, jagged grey rocks lining the edges like a barrier before it drops further into darkness.

They mull things over for a moment, before dropping down and skidding along the sandy outcropping. It’s strangely warm beneath them, a soft heat pushing up under the grit as they slide. They hold the flare high as they go, the fizz of it against their knuckles the only sound in the yawning silence.

And then they feel it.

A prickling cold, a tense and jittering ache wriggling somewhere deep in their chest. Rigel’s heart soars.

“Well I’ll be damned,” they whisper, already joyously overwhelmed at the feeling of breathlessness overtaking them.

The ground evens out, the ragged mouth of a cave looming into view, and Rigel pays it no mind as they stumble upright and forwards, shins sinking into sand, gaze caught ahead. Caught on the dim outline of a man flickering in the dark, on the eyes that stutter up to find them, on the ghost of their old bones.

“Bass!” they call out, a light feeling buoying right up to their cheekbones.

It’s only when they get close enough that they see Romero’s body.

———

Next

(ID in ALT)

Chapter Two It creeps back

At around about 5:00 pm and the sickle horned moon is directly overhead on Jared. He did not mean to stay overlay late after school, not realizing what times it was, how long where they going to bound him for? But as he burst through the large double door, heading him outside and the sky was black. When he finally was able to leave the school, Jared instantly started walking up to the path and came under some quince tress, the soft rustling leaves swooshes together in unison into the night air, as Jared, gazed up but, suddenly, a wave of worry wrapped around him. He pictured right at that moment what his mum would be thinking. Her trembling worry rection! would just be like at this split second and, even right now. Mrs. Donavan was a small, curvy woman, her fading jet-black hair rolls slowly to a shade of a silvery grey. He could see her now standing with fear and concern on the front porch, resting against the banister in a floral apricot apron, long velvet pants, and cosy suede mules’ slippers the ones she had since the day Jared was an adorable child. Then now, just anxiously wating for her beloved son to come home, but as he turned to the end of the street and detaching his faux leather backpack and settling it down on to the ground, meeting at the earth’s soil. Jared kneeled on the concrete and unfastened the zip and put his hand inside the bag, then withdrawing a clear plaster. He began peeling off the sheer stripes, with his fingers kept getting glued as if, on both sides of them but, as they slipped out his hands dispersing into the cold breeze of the vast night, ‘this has been the third one, that I had all week’ he thought grimly. Jared gawked unsteady at it, like as if two fulsome cruel eyes starting back at him, with a look of fear.

Then my legs went heavy like two large boulders being smashed together like a huge wave. Thrashing hit my heart in my chest, a cold sweat trickled down my forehead, then came unexpectedly a tear falling upon the side of his cheeks. Jared closed his eyes for a bit, as he was consumed into darkness and a brush of air blew against him. Quickly snapping them back open. Jared exhaled, in and slowly out calmy and after doing that once I felt all the late evening worries melting away all the thoughts of school had banished. Though, there is only one memory which that feels vivid, that one refuses to melt away at all, but suddenly I lifted my hand and stroked across the left side of my face and noticed on my cheek, a small crimson slash gash, but there is just a tiny leak of blood. How on earth could I have missed that, why did I not check when I was inside the men’s restroom, a thread of undetermined dreaded tangled up deep in his big brain. But once again, he feared the unknown. What could have happened on that cold dark and empty field tonight, he asked himself.

He felt all the hurt rise in his throat. Sometimes I wish I could, could, stay confident off it all, like as if a strong shield were protecting him. Clearing away the sadness and misery, but the flaring rage that had been punching inside myself for so many years I wanted to merely to release the bubbling anger, when I took a chance to stand up straight and say, leave me alone! Then, suddenly, I get shoved hard against the wall, as if a dagger stabbed through my chest but, if only I can close myself into perfect darkness. The types of blackness where its black, blacker than anything else, that would be a gloomy shelter to protect for myself. Though, how much I really want that to happen but, this is the normal world now. I exhaled, with the feeling all the night wind sweeps out through my nose, and then something else too, a sweet-tempered pumpkin spice aroma. Finally, breaking out of my dream trance and fell back to reality, and peeked cautiously around to a very dark corner in full blackness. A flash of a flickering milky blonde flare blazed, the sun kissing the dark cover, of the night and then shining all the way through those oval eyes, to a circle auburn pumpkin sat quietly still, being hold up against the white picket fence. Jared for a split second as he started firmly down to the jack o’ lantern, Halloween comes again, he whispered to himself.

Though, this hallows eve it is going to different, feeling gleeful with himself, he was obviously set out to have an amazing night tonight and that reason is his date with Eleanora Thornton. Just even thinking about it, beads of sweat cooled on both of hands. Wiping them off small drips over his black jeans, for the past few days Jared had been stressed and worried on what to do on the first date together. As if, having pill louds of school homework was not hand-pounding enough, but he is eagerly determined to make it perfect, and just yesterday right after school was over Jared sitting up in his room whilst texting Eleanora, she dropped the question, it was so very unexpected and, in that moment, he then immediately stops typing and gently pulls away. The white blurring screen of his phone beamed against his warm cheeks. Jared still had the phone in his both of his hands, staring worryingly at her message, I mean what could they do? He asked himself and then Jared dropped the phone on the bedcover and walked to his desk, switched on the lamp and beside it a big grey Dell computer, with a dark black skin. He stood there silently for a couple of seconds and then took the hold back of the chair, turned it right round, and seated, turning around again to face the computer still off. Jared pressed the lightly on the button and a beaming grey light came to life, after a few minutes for the lamp top to take get ready and when it did. Moving his mouse and clicking to Google Chrome double taping on the icon, appeared in front of him and types upon the black keys and enters, The Mariner, a classical seafood restaurant that he and his entire family have been going to for years now, and fell in love with the seafood, especially the roasted Oysters, so cooked to perfection, it could soften in his mouth that is how splendid the food is there. Jared pressed back against the chair, hearing a creak as he moved and crossing his arms, then burning them into his chest and thoughtfully stared at the screen with the restaurant name. Without any other thought, he scooted the chair over the bed, grabbed the phone, quickly returning Eleanora’s blazing question, she wanders what Jared’s intriguing idea he plans was for them.

‘Hey Eleanora, it’s me again, so sorry for answering, but how do you feel about seafood?’ He then finished typing and instantly sent the text back to her. Waiting anxiously and worriedly for her to reply, then to his surprise, ‘yeah, I love seafood too, so I guess seafood it is then.’ She replied, and then Jared smiled after months on thinking exhaustibly and tiredly about what they should do together, I mean this was their first ever date and he wanted it to be exciting, for both, but now a like a smooth blanket calm relaxation came over him. Jared stretched his full body across the bed and falling into the warmth of the soft crimson bedsheet, then he plumped his head on to the pillow, with the dark strands curling over it and soon fell fast asleep. His bed was so comfortable but soon, this will be the very last time, he will ever get the chance to sleep in that same bed, ever again.                                                                                        

Still, he could not genuinely believe he finally asked her out. At the age of just eleven years old, small with at the time and having noticeably short darkly curls, and when he first meets Eleanora, petite and having bright azure eyes and fiery golden flames, for her long hair. Although now, Jared is sixteen and a goth and always wearing black slim jeans, leather jackets he loved with his new style.

After all the years had only, he and Eleanora Thornton are about to trick or treat. Nonetheless though, Halloween is always a night for that, young kids wearing cute ghostly dresses like a masquerade ball court Dracula and Frankenstein monster have come and arrived in Mystic, all gathering up candy and chocolate bars, but the other slice themselves to hollows’ eve of warm pumpkin pie, watching horror movies, but, with the lights off, wrapped up in a blanket of darkness. Jared looked sharply at the lantern once more and turned then slowly starting to run. Sprinting fast back to get his bag. He slugs it over his shoulder, taking Jared the quarter of an hour to return home, he had lived on 48 Mariners Lane, Groton it was a very happy and quiet American household I’ve lived through these grey creamed wooden walls through my whole life, I could not remember just how many times I’d moved around bedroom it felt like a hundred times since I could remember so vividly, and I’m an only child. My dad is a local antique collector inside his little, dark emerald store, its heart was placed in the middle of Mystic downtown it was a sparkling gem of such beautiful history. However, he would leave down every once a week and he also loved to travel around the states, in the early active mornings when the sunlight glows through New London, Connecticut and later in the cool mid hours of the afternoon where the sky was the colour violet sweeping over Westerly but then twilight comes to Charlestown, my father always loved going to those parts of rich historic lands of Connecticut and as he always did, he’d discover like stumping on a treasure chest of something old and vintage no matter what the period it is! My father heart raced, and his eye would be glued to it, and the corners of his mouth would peek all the way up, unveiled his pearly white teeth they would always shimmer the way that they did when he discovered any type of antique, it was like a prize. Now, the only residence that occupy the house was me and my mother, I could not wait to get home, Jared thought miserably, he was not looking overly enthusiastic about coming home, late, the insides of my stomach gushing widely going crazy but as Jared halted abruptly at the end of the street. Jared then stared up and his whole tummy settled down. There was a beautiful lawn of lush green grass that looked recently trimmed, I think my dad had the grass cut before he left. Then a wind brushed and stroked my skin, the cool feeling was really refreshing but then, a cold ice chill breathed down my spine as if a ghostly hand touched my back. Jared shudder, he at once turned. For a few seconds Jared had gone left to right eyes moving uncontrollably over the dark corners of Jared’s Mystic Weigh neighbourhood! So, he could see if anything was behind him! However, it could have been the autumn wind, probably playing nasty tricks on Jared. Nevertheless, that strange breeze was like a frost bite, cold and cold, dead cold with that he stood still and walked along the path and walked right up to the door. He burst through the front door dropping his school bag down in the hallway and a swift sweeping inside his noise as he closed the door gently but the warm smell, felt welcoming and homely. I saw through the kitchen a white puff cloud floating in the hall and Jared instantly followed that rich fragrance and it was Mrs. Donavan, standing near the stove with a long wooden spoon inside her cupped hand, she must be preparing a late midnight snack probably, as the grey mist gushed from the long silver stock pot sweltering under a flickering blue flame.

“Hey mum, s-sorry, that I’m so, so late.” Entering the small light crimson red wallpapered kitchen and anxiously waited for an argument to explode.

Mrs. Donavan turned round the wisps of her long midnight black and moon grey curls fall past her right shoulder, the hot pot continue to shimmer, but as she faced him and expecting a frown but instead a…smile, that says thank goodness.  

“Jared, where in the world have you’ve been?” She asked with a long sigh. I had explained everything to her. I told her that I had stayed after school today, just only to do late homework and Mr. Dawn just given more and more homework to do, but it was a lie! How could I explain that! Even to her! Jared cannot believe that in myself that, I am lying to her, about where I have been the entire time, still I did tell a bit of the truth. Jared was inside the school but not alone, wanting to change the subject to his mum.

“I’ll probably be out late; I’d got a date” I finally said.

Then a sparkle of excitement glisten in her hazel eyes. She spurned round to face Jared and dropped her wooden spoon down beside on the grey countertop, the big sliver pot of beef stew steaming hotly around the room and a sweet tender meat cooking up, bubbling up. My stomach started to growl hungrily but, I had had to stop myself since I was going out tonight.

“So, who is the lucky girl then, she is…” she trailed off for a second.

“A goth too? Or an emo” smiling cheerfully and laughing.

“A goth, definitely not an emo, mum.” He confessed. Correcting her error since she does not know a lot about goths just yet, however though, has slowly accepted that I wear in a differently to everyone else around town. Which I am extremely glad about it to, but it taken at least Eleanora’s mum and dad five minutes adjusting to her wardrobe she must be so lucky but then again Mrs, Donavan was his mother who will love him and still accept him. After a few minutes, Jared sprinted fast upstairs to his room, quickly got out of his school clothes for today and got dressed in a brand-new soft vintage-wash denim ripped jeans and a black smooth cotton short sleeved oversized hoodie slipping his long arm into the soft, warm cotton top with silver accents hanging over the top, along Jared’s wrist revealed instantly a gorgeous black tattoo, it was of a cross bow. The lines where perfectly sharp with fine dry black ink edges. It’s always been tradition for centuries, that every male and female hunter or huntress to bare the mark. The mark symbols the strong strength and the warrior of a hunter, and it is a clever disguise for all immortal creatures. If they shall see this cross bow, they’re think it’s just a regular tattoo, but they were always wrong. If they shoulder ever set, they’re eyes on it, at that moment. it’s a death sentence! Jared closed the polished wooden wardrobe door and glanced at his narrow mirror and then slips into his white converse high-tops and put through his eyeholes two-sterling black cross stud earrings and clasped back both behind the ear lobes. He speedily brushed his hair flicking the side bangs over him and it curled, he dashed back downstairs. As Jared is about to exist the front door, but abruptly halted for a silent moment, standing at the polished mahogany door Jared put his hands inside the pockets at the back of the jeans and then after a second, releasing both hands he darted back into the kitchen and grabbed the car eyes on the table.

“Mum! I’ll be taking my car tonight, I’ll promise you I won’t be home late, I promise.” Jared said with a miserably sigh as he hates being a complete mummies boy at times, however, he did not want to overly fret about him again tonight.

“Jared, wait, wait hold up for a second.” Mrs. Donavan began and ran fast around the counter over across to Jared fully turning to him. She put her hands onto his strong arms.

“Just promise me this, that she isn’t going to be like the last one?” she let out a long exhale, Jared groaned a surge of dread pierced his heart. 

“What! No…of course not,” Jared replied, calming his mother’s spirits.

“Soo, she is not going to be a vampire?” She asked raising an eyebrow to him.

“MUM! I’d staked that last girl, I mean that was two years and keep in mind we had to bury her body in the woods, though, I did not know she was a “Jared paused for a calm moment like a flash back to a memory, and then instantly Jared snapped back to normal.

“Well! Let us not make that slip up again,” she glared at him and narrowing her dark eyes to look more serious, “remember the order,” Jared nodded, he has been told this what feels like over a hundred times. “Tells, us what to do with them, just as long she is not a wolf. I will not be okay with that too”, Mrs, Donavan’s face quickly changed. Jared still remembers that kill, like it was almost yesterday when he had caught his very first supernatural creature. “I could smell the dust even the oak leaves on her and the heavy scent of blood, too. “She then snorted angrily.

“MUM! I am obviously trying to tell you, Eleanora Thornton, is an ordinary human, HUMAN! not a vampire or a werewolf, even a fairy for that matter.” Jared stated. He knew certainly well to know that Eleanora, as he always imagined her to be, a large radiant phoenix bird of a dragon fire. Though she is nothing but just a regular girl. Jared moved across the table and grabbed for the keys again and Mrs Donavan then loosened her motherly hold, he finally said good-bye to her warmly. As soon as Jared closed the front door but then opened it just a crack and he started back for the last time at the corner of his round eye, Mrs. Donavan in a worrying state but she knew that Eleanora Thornton did not at all, that she is not a part of that, Eleanora did not truly belong to the world of the supernatural, though instead she lived in the land of daylight.

There is a sudden brisk change in the air. A crisp cold wind blew around the huge dark green elm trees, it was unusual especially around autumn where it is never this warm but with the soft twinkling rattle of jingling keys, hooked around his index finger. When summer break just started, he had been busy in the early active mornings Jared spent that entire break inside his parents’ old garage. Working on an important side project no English textbook or math book required. When he would enter back indoors after countless hours and days his hands are covered in ink oil stains and was caked in dust too, but, when it was finally completed. Jared is not a well experienced mechanic unlike the other guys down the Broadway auto but, learnt one or two things from his grandfather. Before he passed away last September and if he were alive today, right now, he would be extremely proud of Jared. I imagine seeing him now giving a hearted smile, the one he always gave him whenever we greeted. He stood outside the garage excitedly and started to grin gleefully. Jared then punched the code into his iPhone. Then at that very moment the massive and heavy garage door opens slow, automatic and stops up when it had reached the edged end.

Closing into a quiet howl of darkness, Jared ambled his way inside to the garage and flipped on over to click the light switch beside him, a big beam of golden yellow had glowed in the massive room. His eyes were looking straight forward at a large and wide object sitting still draped in darkness. It had an old dirty sheet over it, when Jared touched the sheet and pulling it all the way down. A white cloud of soot brushed off and sweeping in the calm air. Jared slowly glanced down, and as his dark hazel eyes broaden in happiness, but as his smile widens and the glistening pearly white teeth beamed joyfully, well old man. we worked hard on this gramps, you thought I would leave it here but not for this night’s special occasion, tonight I will be taking it for a ride. He simply thought, continue to gaze at Jared’s grandfather’s original 1969 jet black Dodge Charger car, a R T440. An American beauty and American muscle vehicle, too. Jared could not wait any longer anymore, like a chid waiting impatiently to get on the coolest theme park ride, finally Jared ran to the side driver door and opened it and claimed into the front seat then slamming it gently, he settled back and sunk onto the smooth black leather cover seat. Jared was instantly absorbed in the material of overwhelming comfort, they were extremely malleable, Jared certainly hoped Eleanora would be heading on over to the nearest haunted house in Mystic over his amazing vehicle. As the moon beams reflected against the sleek interior of the dark car. He put his strong hands around the steering wheel, putting the keys into the ignition and then revving sound pierced his ears slightly but, as the engine purred loudly. He gently pressed, with the ends of his toes, right on the clutch all the way down and moved quickly, with his left hand, to the gear stick that is beside him smoothly putting it straight to first. Steadily down slightly across on the accelerator and he hold his foot carefully. Finding that bite and lifting the clutch, until I had waited for the vibrations. Then squeezed down on the handbrake and lift off the clutch, I did not remove my foot off the grip too quickly or to apply too lightly either. Putting just a tiny bite on the gas and started to pull out the large door steered straight forward and onto the threshold and when he got the edge of his asphalt drive and slowly but gradually breaking. Reaching the end of my white picket fence, seeing if any fastmoving cars would come racing past but, I doubted that any oncoming automobiles would be out this late at night or they could be going trick or treating, but the students at Mystic school will be as expected on throwing a huge Halloween party which, me and Eleanora will definitely not be invited to, I mean why would they let us both cool awesome goths to their stupid party anyhow because, because we’re about to have an incredible hollows eve but sine it is Halloween after all, heading out trick or treating and while in Mystic are adorning in very wickedly spooky and outrages scary costumes going to parties that would be right outside of town.

With no sight of any other cars shooting out from the nocturnal darkness. Expect the dark dusk echoes of owl’s screech across the tress. Their call of tu-whit tu-whoo, tu-whit tu-whoo, tu-whit tu-whoo. I had merely forgotten that these furry small creatures were active only at night. Jared just shook his head, pushing back with both of his dark steaks of hair and focused back to the road and ready to go to leave and then began, turning, turning then quickly straight the wheel, Jared gently eased on the gas and hold down again the clutch and moving the gear stick to second gear and nimble and swiftly back on the gas. With that, the car speed into the dusk of the night. A blast of cool fresh air, as if exploded right inside my car. I found the cold gust refreshing against my pale skin and once when it dark enough outside the car windows a, flicker of yellow light just then brightens up the front seat, but behind is still looming dimly, taking short glances at the rereview mirror. I saw a small, white circle illuminating ethereally softy light as it drapes in between the thick obscure clouds.

It nearly taken him sixteen minutes to arrive in Stonington. This charming small town was so breath taking, especially in the fall. When every tress blushed in a colour of bright orange whilst the others stayed dark green and the other few were a golden bronze but in the sweep of darkness the outdoor light flowed, flowering into the wet maple leaves. Finally, I rolled straight into the road downtown and scattered here and there are placed under every lamppost that was outside the stores of circler pumpkins, the town centre declarations looked spectral. Halloween is thriving in Mystic. Then as I got close by, then my eyes beamed excitedly, just up head there are two stores, ‘whoa’, they are being invaded! For those who have a massive fear of prickly eight-legged, black beady eyes and sharp fangs creatures. Rather being small, instead. Giant dark spiders hanging against the high walls of the big, cream bookstore but. Next door, skinny pasty all white bony skeletons are crawling up the roof and along the side of the windows, as if they were attempting to break and entering inside. Jared braked suddenly. Getting a glimpse over to my left side of my car window, seeing the dark green flowerpots draped in silvery cotton webs and, little wanders sleeping almost inside the silk cobweb. Returning my normal speed but the roads tonight looked very bustling. With a lot of cars pulling in and out, moving carefully on to the next side of the street like bees buzzling but though it would not be this teeming as in Mystic Connecticut is a popular tourist site, defiantly in the hot spells of summer, people do see our village as a lovely romantic get away, but it would be very peaceful at winter, were business would be quieting down.

It was defiantly not peaceful on the roads this night. I began to get irritated. When an intense boom echo of very loud and screaming horns blared but started moving again and abruptly halting yet again. The cars on the road fell completely silent for a moment. If I am running late with Eleanora, she would one hundred percent kill me! Jared knees had suddenly buckled, his strong arms started loosening, his firm gripped remained gentle on the wheel. Ten minutes late and the other cars have seemed to ease off now, Jared instantly retuned to concertante back onto the road and began to drive fast with his foot still hovering on the gas again, once more he felt calmed himself and was ready to head on over to Eleanora house.

Driving straight keeping in his lane, no other cars appeared, and he then sighed and returned on the wheel, turning onto a curb this road was much cleaner, he is far away off the heavy traffic, the loud honking horns almost making Jared’s ears burst crimson but, it all vanished behind the back of his head, away, away, away. However, roaring engine still purred, then he drove past darkness and the pearly moon glistening dimly making a crisp outline of silhouette tress. Soon he saw two red, old, rusted blue and red trucks parked over on the charcoal grey road behind on each side where a row of houses. Jared drove past them, until he felt a little dazed and his eye slowly began to go obscure in a visible mist. A little and everything in the car started to feel very, very fuzzy. Trying to push that away focusing back on the dark road and his head eyes beamed. As he learns back, then, a light brush of low temperature air sweeps against him like a string of hair up against his head, and then I felt, something going up, up, up my hair, suddenly, Jared’s breath closes tightly, something is wrapping him like a noose around his throat pulling him, pulling him, tightly. That is when his heart sunk at the bottom of my stomach. Was there a fly, no wait I have not opened my windows, at that moment a feeling of dread came over him. All the hairs sprinkled up to life on the back of his neck. Jared instantly froze, he was paralyzed right in his leather seat, I cannot move, I cannot move, Jared thought in terror. Then he felt his left, still above the clutch, started loosening leisurely but slowly like somebody is controlling it and then it moved right off the break, Jared determined to move it go back up again, again on to it, but it was too late, both of his legs chill up. He glanced up slowly, staring straight out the wide car window, seeing and glancing at the starless night sky. The car continued to go down, down, down and then, Jared’s eyes cracked wider and wider, then a big and massive thud.

…. CRASH!

In pure total darkness and in absolute complete silence soaks through my ears. Whoosh, whose, a large gust of wind blows in and starts stroking against my cheeks with all the strengths I had manged to save breaking back open his eyes, he moaned and groaned. It had taken me almost a minute to raise myself. When he had got the strength to attempt on moving his eyes once again along the car, darkly, then carefully but slightly moved my arms are off the steering wheel and my whole body is all slumped up. Pushing back the black furry strands of dark brown hair and slipping them behind my ears, just for now I will have to fix it until later, once Jared could raise himself gently and easing up fully. Leaning forward. His board chests started to raise up and down rapidly trying to catch the fresh cold night air, it felt so refreshing and so cool. Finally, Jared lets out white puffs of steam smoke blew across the car window and swiftly relaxed. Without realizing that his head, was still bowed down starting at his dark ripped jeans, but he did look up, then he gasped.

…Where is the road?

…What was I looking at?

Staring blanky and with incapacitating glazed eyes. For a moment, Jared struggled not to drop his jaw to collapse onto the floor, Jared turned, and my heart rouse up into my throat. It stood at the edge of the car a massive cloud! Expecting to see a white haze flying past it, though, the colour was not white rather, RED and BLOODY my eye grew wide. He then whirled and all the sudden. All swamped in all directions encompassing sweeping through the thick dark branches with the twigs naked, but the road was no invisible as the red fog flooded. He froze almost paralyzed like stone, in his seat and then jolted back against it. Jared leaned forward quickly with his hands gripped across on the wheel the muck of sweat damped around my fingers. I quickly rolled down the thick window, seeing the dark night starless sky then he saw it- The red mist curling above the heavy mucky blackness, Jared peeked his head slightly up, then, he felt it, as the red smoke cloud came though Jared’s face it had hit him, but suddenly. He felt in an instance a huge clogged in his throat, then a horrible rising as if he was about to vomit when he felt a vapor, of rotting dead flesh. Jared then quickly coved his mouth and rolled back up the window after closing it. Jared shifted in back against the window, he let out a breath, heavy and dizzy at that moment Jared could even now smell the stench of dead along with the decaying scent was up his nose. It slithered down his stomach as if a cold shiver crawled down, then that feeling come back! Those cold lifeless hands touching him once again. I looked up back at the road and as my eyes scanned around all the way around, as the red mist brushing the branches and the twigs. My chest started to rise, rise, rise, up, up and down, down then down again, but abruptly Jared’s hand began to quiver, why was I shaking so suddenly? Is it this strange red fog? Was that why I’m feeling completely tense? because of this odd crimson mist? Abruptly, that decomposing stench had come flooding back!  Can I smell this awful? THIS DESTUSTING SCENT. Then I heard an, SNAP!

Jared turned his head to the left. A behemoth cloud of continuous crimson smoke flews from the tall dark slender tress. When, a crunching. It a low crunching at first, but then, the chewing crunching crumbled and cracked in the darkness. Jared moved his head back and forth thinking it’s just an animal flying past but, in this fog, why any nocturnal creature would walk in this crimson night however, if you were a bat they’d been so in love with this cloudless, cold, and chilly night. Jared turned his headlights, as the yellow beam cast a milky glowed the red cloud wiped away quickly. With his both of his hands still shaking uncontrobely, my eyes darting at corners when, the munching sound returned. My heart began to pound heavy and loud. A crunching echo of footsteps. Jared’s head wobbled a little as he then looked back forward again, then, he sees at that moment. Something emerging through the blood red fog stood a silhouetted standing dark and alone in the pitch blackness. My heart than sank. It was standing there in the middle of the road and the red cloud danced around the dark figure. Jared began to stare at it, as the figure remained solid but the more, he looked. He felt eyes watching Jared, like it could see through him. I then gradually moved back against my seat he tried to lower himself down, but, suddenly, it moved!  Very slowly, the arms swayed in the blackness and as it approached the two beaming headlights and then, halted in the front of my car. The toes touched the light, Jared started down and saw them, the toenails looked dirty, even the long nails were a nasty filthy lime green inside the nails themselves. Falling above was a white silky sat on top of the feet. White silk, where had he seen that before, was it from a magazine something in one of his best friends’ wardrobes, who so happens to have a gorgeous pale silk anywhere. A strange thought come to his mind, why had he seen that familiar satin before? It was so vivid, but then, the figure come closer to the golden headlights, and Jared’s jaw dropped.

NO, THIS CAN’T BE

HOW CAN IT BE

Y-YOU ARE ALIVE?

BUT-

SHE IS DEAD!

DEAD!

HEATHER IS DEAD!

DEAD!!!!

Jared’s head was flooding with wild words. He ran his hands through his messy black hair. The damp wet drips oozes through the rising hairs, he watched her for a long moment. Her curly long dirty blonde hair, Heather’s bronze skin and then Jared saw Heather Westbury’s stunning ivory satin dress at last he began to remember. That gown looked splendid the day she was last seen alive. The supernatural diamond white colour but now, caked in dirt and colour had gradually, like as if a rotting corpse had faded away. As Jared’s eyes scanned up the dress and then, he sees, BLOOD, punched in her chest near her heart a wooden sharp stake. Finally! Jared remembered it was such a long time ago, it was in the early night-time and a full moon beamed down on them, especially on Heather as her pale skin glowed ghostly pale with bright silver outlining the straw-coloured hair. Sitting close together under an enormous pine tree until, Jared discovered a speck of dry blood at the corner of her round sugar brown lips and, the look of dread and horror on his face that; she, was a vampire!

Jared is speechless and at that moment, he was watching her, the wind was blowing her dark blonde locks in the air, as the headlights flashed up on her face, she looked down on floor eyes catching on the long twilight grass, Heather then flinched and suddenly she pulled smoothly back her mouth and revealing her pearly straight teeth. That’s when he saw them, those white sharp pointy fangs! Heather shot up and raised her head and she darted those crimson eyes and staring right up at Jared, resembling two red laser beams striking through the thick glass. Jared’s chest grew tighter, and his hands continued to quiver but, he manged to thrust the fear, letting it rush through Jared’s whole body and then melted as like ice on a breeze hoary chill, heavy and deep it soon had render, but the hairs are even now shaking along his arm. Expect- His eyes stiffened. Watching Heather in her silk tight dress but not once had he seen her, looking up, instead she kept on staring down at the cold dark ground below the locks of golden hair sweep past her. The engine resumed to rumble slightly; his foot was hovering on top of the break he wanted to move! Far and fast, at full tilt where the soaking sludge had covered my clean wheels but, in the distance her haunting look still stiffened, then he took a huge gulp and, slammed hard on the clutch and as the engine thundered, moving over to second first gear, then thumped back on the gas, everything was moving fast. The car immediately rushed towards Heather. Jared griped his strong hands wrapped tight over the wheel, rising his elbows upward then he bit hard on his teeth. He was ready, to escape her all over again, it all had to be a horrible nightmare. Though, as the headlights started to grow near, Heather raised her head and at that moment Jared then stared back.

He saw straight away where her round amber eyes. It was like two golden rich honey stones, then abruptly, at the corners of Heather’s gold leaf eyes a bean began to fall I could not see it at first, was she afraid or scared but, as the headlight shined brightly, but she still did not flinch at the beaming yellow light. Those were not ordinary normal tears, but abruptly, Jared at that second Jared stopped the car, surprisingly, Jared manged to break gradually at the front of Heather. He saw; it, BLOOD, she was crying red tears then my eyes began to widen again, then widen. The streaming of crimson streamed down her pale cheeks not just one trickle but a flow of tears. Then there was a calm silence, in the tress all the leaves stood still and where no sound of animals, especially the crickets did not chirp in the autumn fields, but as the engine ceased though, my hands remind on the wheel.

I continued to stare at Heather. She stood in the cloak of darkness, it was as if it dressed her, I mean after all Heather was a predator, an immortal, and a creature of the nocturnal night that’s her home but, suddenly, he sees what Jared took no notice of in such a long time, after Heather’s death. Now, he realizes just then, was the tremendous and overwhelming sense of sorrow. That consumed her even in those gleaming amber eyes. As they glimmer and shined under the moonlight and he watched her for another moment, still speechless in the front seat, though the trickling of sweat continued to drool on the wheel, Jared brushed his hands off them, one last time, as Jared scraped the sweat onto his dark jeans but then, he only took his eyes off away from Heather. He rose his head up and back on the dark murky road, and a shudder shook him, all down his spine and as a cold rush of breeze but it was so ice cold and the dark hairs all stood up straight and then he heard a voice. A woman, it is very low but clear, but then mumbled a few times and Jared couldn’t make out the words that the voice was trying to make. Jared froze for a second and put his hands steady on the stirring wheel again, he scanned all around the dark red fog it swirled and danced into the dark of the night, however no voice, but suddenly. He stopped his gaze at Heather, Jared then slumped back over his seat and dropped his arms and started back at her, it was you, wasn’t it Heather, he thought and wasn’t he right. Then Jared leaned to the wide window his face close to the wheel so he could understand what Heather was saying and as her round cold pink lips moved with her white fangs curled and as they snaped together. Afraid, Jared’s heart continued to pound harder and harder and as he inched a little more. Although, when he did edge across and still could not hear her words. It’s like he had gone deaf! Against the solid glass, when, a muffled phrase sink into Jared’s ear, it said in a low murmur.

JARED!

At that moment he wanted to scream. Shriek thunderously until his voice box burst onto the car window. Instead, Jared remained close to glass and eyeing Heather, her jaw still shifted and muffled more remarks, but it was his name he can just pick up, repeatedly like an antiquated record player simply spinning and spinning. Then Heather’s mouth immobilises with no more unmoving words coming forth to him and as Jared stared, his shaky eyes trembling behind the solid glass, and for a moment, silence brushes across the dark hems of the Elm trees. He watched on from inside the car and Heather froze dead centre in the middle of the crimson mist, her pale emotionless face sustained gazed at him a look of horror. For no more than at least ten minutes, this very uncomfortable game of watching eyes just looking straight towards Jared, still his foot is hooked onto the break he wanted to merely push back down on to it but couldn’t. Her glowing amber eyes then suddenly he felt it again, a dead cold hand brushing up against his spine and all the hairs spiked up Jared’s arms trembled like a leaf. Slowly gazing down to his quaking limbs wobbling and shaking under the darkness of the night. His heart began to race like a hundred miles, boom, boom, boom, I raised my left hand releasing from the wheel and rested it over myself as I gently rubbed but, the loud pounding beats faster more repeatedly.

Then a flowing rush poured straight to his head and a powerful strike that smashed across him. In that split second Jared closed his eyes tight, as he collapsed into darkness and it dance a slow darkly midnight waltz, his strong-armed chest began to raise up and back down once more so that his heart could ease. After a minute, his stiffen crumpled chest had gone back to normal once again, he began to breath at an uneasy paste still his eyes closed, closed in pitch darkness but as of now Jared could not even for a moment to open them up, he was just too afraid! Afraid to see that bloody face of Heather stood out on to and standing the crimson mist. ‘I have to,’ Jared thought calmy, still thinking that this could just be all in his head, and after all it is fall of Halloween and a time to spooked was all just for entertainment. Finally! Jared feeling brave opened his eyes very, very gently…In the clearing of his vision, his hands laid across his legs and as Jared looked straight up and saw the red fog had got closer to the windows and as he leaned back, watching the enormous blood-soaked red clouds.

The mist grew thicker, heavier now, and then Jared noticed that Heather was gone. Jared broke into a cold sweat and frantically moving my head to side to side seeing where she had disappeared to, and not to forget that Heather is a vampire and can sprint normal than an ordinary person would instead, she can in a fast speed, maybe she ran off into the woods to catch some pray, maybe perhaps, maybe…Heather was still out the fog.

My entire body went clammy, and all the dark hairs raised also sprouting through my black hoodie. The night is still heavily silent no noise cracked, not even an animal any nocturnal creatures who had lived for the night, dared not to make a crack or a crash. My heart began pounding again, I horrible thought that I was going to have a heart attack, at any moment my red beating heart could rip out from my chest and splatter on the wheel and the dashboard, just the thought of BLOOD would be tasty for Heather. Jared still moved his head quickly to side to side the red haze made it very difficult to see past.

When Jared squinted his eyes hard onto the darkness, then he saw, two pairs of glowing eyes. Then a dark silhouette figure flickered from inside the large cloud of haze, and as the shadow stepped, I could then hear a clicking of heels tapping on the ground and then halting. When suddenly, my heads of my car shut off without warning. I peered over to see what had happened, why did that happen? A thought of dread trickled and as he glanced back and the shadowy figure still stood there, was this Heather or another vampire to drank and made this poor and unfortunate individual and turned into a blood sucking leach. Jared looked straight ahead and realized that it was, Heather.

She outstretches her arms to the side, the whole figure of her is completely jet-black. Blacker than anything else and as I’d watched in terror, I also saw that she had long, sharp, pointy nails. As Heather ambled her way past the mist of scarlet, smoked and when she got very nearer, I can see her flowering silk milky white dress as it bleezed slightly against the cool wind. I spotted her face, peering from the darkness over her smooth lips and on her face a stain a running blemish, of blood. She halted in her slow but elegant smooth paste walk and stared down to the ground and as I watched in fear. Still, I wanted to eagerly move but, my body began to tremble how could I, could I bravely leap and climb back up on steering wheel when as I gaze at Heather, who was supposed to be dead! Though on a dark autumn night, here she was, living, breathing very much. Now, I can feel my entire body relaxing again the breaking of cold sweat sunk back inside although, my hand still quivered nonetheless I put them back on the wheel and as Jared adjusted himself in his seat. I guess Jared was beginning to get some fearlessly, it tinkled down all the way and just as he was about to, his foot back on the gear…a big thump a thud, hit on top of his car and for a moment, Jared lifted his head up staring at the ceiling and then it was eerily silent. Then, I hear a rolling above my head, ‘what was something up there’ I asked myself and as I looked to my right side and on the other seat was a box of matches. Jared darted to grab the matches and slide the small pack open, reached for a match and lit it up a flickering light illuminated all around him, but it was dim and only small areas of the car are engulfed in pitch-darkness. Though, as I lifted the light above over my head still the hard, pounding, rolling I followed it, until it, it stopped. Jared waited but then the match went quickly flat, he reached over to grab another match, starching the side when the flame burst to life but, then suddenly a massive BANG which caused the spark to splatter, I jumped out of Jared’s skin and dropping the match on my jeans, I shakily looked up to see what it was…it was a jack’ o lantern lying on top the car, the biggest, round one he’d ever seen and as Jared stared at the pumpkin, the skin appeared to look decomposed, the eyes rotted and the mouth had been chomped around them and it gave him a deep, cold, cold frown. Submersed in complete darkness, I pushed myself forward, my hands on the wheel and glanced straight at it! When a cloud of the red mist glowed and shinned dimly past, Jared sees something odd about its empty hollow vacant sockets. That was when he seen it, a big shadow it was round too, but like a dart it had vanished back to the darkness, of the blank holes. I couldn’t to press my senses across on it, just for a few minutes but then, something breaks my gaze when an, loud.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

My eyes began to shudder, I hesitated, at first to turn the strange tapping, as I reluctantly turned my head round to face the window only to see, just darkness and then the odd beating stopped! Instantly I’d snapped back when a slither, the moving of five pale hands, long, white razor-sharp nails over slicked down the head. Then suddenly, two arms sprouted uprooted upward and as they were as if long, tentacles of a sea monster and a mop of golden hair raised up too, and that’s when I saw. IT WAS HEATHER… Her face looked bloodied, eyes flaring red almost burning against the dark she even appeared paler and under Heather’s shadowy eyelids a line of cracks breaking on her lifeless skin, the wisps of her gorgeous blonde hair had a life of its own as it twirls and twists past her shoulders. She gave me an unnatural wide grin; even as her lids shut up and I can see the red blood shot.

Staring ahead in terror. I trembled like a leaf, now I really must get out of here! Still quivering under darkness, Jared moved speedily grabbing on the gear stick put it into second shift, placing my foot on the second gear and as Jared pressed down, I could hear the engine roar. Which caused Heather to flinch and suddenly her grin began to fade. It became an angary glare shoot through the glass, but as Jared moved to third shift and nearly, just nearly as I was about to reach for the gas and presses hard, but then.

“OOHH, Jared Donavan, you really think you can just escape, me now!” Heather shrieked to anger

“I am only getting started” Heather yellowed, but as I kept on pushing on the gas pedal but, the car didn’t even move an inch. As Heather must have used all her strength to prevent the car to move. Jared continues to push to pedal to urge forward but Heather still in front of me, I had to halt in my struggling getaway. As I could no longer feel that nothing could help to get me anywhere away her, once again, Heather standing in darkness and smiled triumphantly like she successfully got Jared where she had needed him to be…Alone and very afraid. She wanted nothing more in this very moment was to pray on Jared’s fear.

“What is it that you want?” Jared then cried almost crying in such horror. At that moment, Heather’s self-righteous smile fades once again, she almost seemed very sad! for just a second though, as I laid back not fully, not back over the leather. A serene and quiet ghostly silence breeze past the dark elm trees. Whoosh, Whoosh, Woosh. Jared breathed calmly, and as my shoulders rise and shakily down and their Heather stood unmoving, her face still as if frozen but then, she moved her head down towards the floor. She did this for a few minutes, a VERY LONG FEW MINUTES.

Then, as she slowly, slowly lifts her head, but I hear her laughing. Giggling almost Heather had burst into hysterical fits as she guffaw under the moon light. She just laughed and laughed then laughed. Jared sunk behind the wheel, he could nothing but watch her terrible wicked and rotten glee echo through the long endless woods of tall dark prickly tress and the shadows of blackness. At last, her amusement giggles stopped!

She glared right back at me…. An awful glare with such dread on her face just came over her.

“I thought you’d loved me…

Jared, the man I have returned to you.

I was hoping we could start again but, I feel this piercing pain in the middle of my chest, and then I realize. That, I’m dead and as for me…I felt, I felt this massive pain in my chest, and you know what it feels like, it hurts. A lot, a whole lot, and it hurt like a bitch!

You know what I want…Jared! My love! MY LOVE!

Nothing more, more for this Halloween…Is for you, too.

………………DIIIIIIEE!

AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAHHHHHA

Remember to like and comment about Chapter Two.

comforting you after a nightmare headcanons

nightmares aren't fun, but luckily you have someone there to protect you.

feat. albedo, diluc, childe, kaeya, xiao, zhongli

genre : hurt/comfort, fluff

note : hbd to me!! here's a gift from me to you with one of my favorite tropes, hehe <:

❀ albedo

albedo isn't one to dream much, let alone rest. he's always caught up in his own research and experiments that sleep isn't really needed if he wanted to be more productive in his research, despite the worried comments from sucrose and your lighthearted nags that he'll stay short forever.

though, that isn't to say that he's not interested. there are many times that albedo has caught you dozing off in his laboratory while waiting for him to be done with his experiments. he would be lying to himself if he didn't wonder what could possibly be playing in your mind to make you be smiling like that while unconscious.

this time, though, is an exception.

test tubes and flasks filled with various liquids and concoctions fill albedo's workspace as he examines each and every one before filling in his notebooks with descriptions and drawings of his work. there's a shuffle from his other desk and his eyes shift up to glance at you. albedo's gaze softens at the sight of his coat draped over your shoulders as they move to the rhythm of your breathing.

he wonders why you choose to stay at his laboratory so late and wait for him to finish his research rather than head home alone and sleep in your much more comfortable bed. albedo supposes you find comfort in his presence, an odd thing to be comforted by really.

however, the gentle smile quickly falls from his face the moment he hears the quiet whimpers and pleas. as quickly as he could, albedo moves to your side and gently shakes you awake. he isn't the least surprised when your eyes snap open and a gasp leaves your lips.

"...are you alright?" the question breaks you from your daze and you seem to relax when you realize you aren't dreaming anymore. though, the way your hands and shoulders shake doesn't escape the sharp eyes observing you.

"come on, i think i'm done with my research for now. we can head home if you'd like?" albedo smiles when you nod your head, but as he turns to pack up and prepare to leave his laboratory your hand shoots out to grasp his own.

albedo is surprised at first, but the shock melts into endearment as his hand pulls yours up to his lips. he presses a gentle kiss on your knuckles, reassuring you that he'll be right there for you. that you wouldn't be alone.

"nightmares, huh? ...i wonder if i can concoct something to help eradicate the chances of them appearing. oh, don't worry, i won't leave your side for the rest of the evening. promise."

❀ diluc

diluc isn't prone to nightmares, honestly he probably gets them quite often. or maybe even dreamless dreams if he's lucky. well, considering he sleeps at all. he's busy being the darknight hero of mondstatdt in the dead of night, so sleep doesn't come by often for the red haired vigilante.

even when he does get nightmares, there's not many people he can call to or rely on to help comfort him. he doesn't trust any of the knights, and he definitely doesn't trust kaeya to help at all. so comforting someone isn't something he knows how to do well.

but he tries his best to comfort you in any way, shape, or form if you ever needed him to.

the knocking against his door is quiet, nearly nonexistent if diluc was preoccupied with anything other than trying to sleep. he would have ignored it if it weren't for the quiet whisper of his name from a voice he recognized. sighing, he rises from his bed and heads over to his door, mentally preparing himself for whatever you're planning to throw over his head.

instead, diluc is met with your cheeky smile. you're definitely up to no good, but he hasn't quite figured out what you were going to do or say. before he could even question why you're standing outside his door in the dead of night, you interrupt him.

"wow diluc! fancy seeing you here, do you come here often?" he deadpans at you and nearly closes the door to go back to sleep. but he notices the way your fingers twiddle, a sign that you're nervous about something. his eyes flicker to your face, scanning anything that would give him clues on what's on your mind.

"what happened?" diluc's brows furrow in worry seeing the way your smile falls and the way your body begins to curl in on itself. he offers a hand for you to take, an invitation for you to be comforted by the stoic man in front of you. he lets a small smile grow on his lips when he sees you brighten up a tad at his invitation.

your hand is encased in his own, scarred and rough with callouses but comforting and warm at the same time.

"go back to sleep, it's already getting really late. if you need anything, though, i'll be right here until the dawn rises."

❀ childe

although sleep is necessary to maintain perfect health, childe finds it difficult to maintain a proper sleeping schedule due to his job as a fatui harbinger. when the tsaritsa calls, he needs to be there immediately to come to her aid and carry out her orders regardless of how inconvenient it was for him.

but, having many siblings, especially younger ones, has always prepared childe to comfort and protect anyone that he holds close to his heart. nobody, not even nightmares, can get close enough to harm the people he loves, not if he's alive to knock them down a peg.

which definitely includes you, someone who holds his entire world in the palm of your hands.

childe finds you awake at the dead of night after one of his shifts at the northland bank. which is surprising considering you're always asleep before he gets back home from work, always trying to stay up to welcome the harbinger home but always succumbing to the sweet embrace of slumber.

a mischievous grin grows on his lips as he plans to spook you, but as he nears your body, the shaking of your body and quiet sniffles reach his ears. immediately, childe's hand is on your shoulder and he frowns when you yelp and whip around to see him.

"o-oh, ajax, i didn't expect to see you home so soon. i was just getting ready for bed." a white lie. childe presses his lips into a thin line, his hand reaching out to catch a tear falling from your cheek. did...did he do this to you? was he being a bad partner for not putting aside more time for you?

as if reading his mind, you vehemently shake your head and grab onto childe's wrist. "no! no... it's not what you think i just had a really bad dream and couldn't go back to sleep. don't worry, you don't need to beat yourself up over this." he relaxes immediately at your comment, but he still feels bad for leaving you alone when you needed someone to comfort you.

childe leans over, cupping your face in his hands as he showers your face in featherlight kisses. your giggles fill the room and the habinger can't help but laugh as well, especially after pressing a wet, sloppy kiss on your lips. "how about i cook you a nice stew for tonight? it always helped teucer calm down when he was scared."

and you take him up on that offer. the rest of the evening is filled with light laughter from the both of you as childe moves around the kitchen and tells you stories of his childhood. the scene is comforting, peaceful, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"how about we turn in for tonight? don't worry, nothing will harm you as long as your big, strong ajax is by your side!"

❀ kaeya

despite his title of being a "lazy" and "laid-back" captain of the calvary, kaeya isn't one to sleep too much. he has a regular sleeping schedule, though there are some nights where the memories of his past haunt him and he stays up reminiscing about how things were.

he's one to brood alone, not letting anyone see him vulnerable. but he likes to be relied on. there isn't a bone in his body that prevents him from helping anyone in need, even though the way he gets things done is quite... unconventional to everybody else's standards.

but when you call to him for help, he’s there in an instant.

the sound of rustling from beside kaeya stirs him from his slumber. he squints, his good eye focusing in the darkness of his room before landing on your curled up figure beside him. he figures you’re just shifting in your sleep and closes his eyes again, but you shift again and sigh. surely, you’re not sleeping at this point.

kaeya gently calls out your name, a warm smile on his face when he sees you startle from his voice. though, his smile melts away from his face when he sees your expression. it doesn’t help that you flinch slightly when his hand reaches over to brush against your cheek.

“sorry, i just…i’m still shaken from my dream and-“ your apologies are cut short when kaeya sends you a comforting smile and cups your jaw in his hand. he assures you that it’s fine.

“are you okay? how long have you been up?” it takes you a moment too long to come up with a lie that would put your lover at ease. when you come up with an answer, kaeya is already staring at you with his mismatched orbs, one of deep sapphire and the other a light, milky blue color. you can’t lie to him now.

so you tell the calvary captain about the dream you just had, not going too into details with what really shook you. and kaeya listens to everything you say, a hand firmly on your arm to remind him that you’re with him and not whatever occurred in your dreams.

he makes little comments here and there to lighten the mood, though he knows when to keep quiet so you can talk it through. when you finish talking the dream through, kaeya pinches your cheek, chiding you for dreaming of such things.

but he reassures you that you’re fine, and that he’s here to protect you should anything from your dreams come into reality. he jokes about letting you handle everything alone, but you know he wouldn’t despite how cheeky he is.

"don't let the bedbugs bite, [name]. haha, kidding. i'll be here to fight them off if you need me. i am a captain after all."

❀ xiao

xiao isn't unfamiliar with nightmares and dreams. don't forget, one of his duties under the reign of the yaksha's previous master was to devour the dreams of the innocent. it had gotten to the point where dreams were the only things he could stomach, despite detesting the intent behind it.

despite it all, though, xiao is still an adeptus who protects the mortals and the innocent of liyue. his sole job now, under his contract with rex lapis, is to protect even if it means throwing his life away. with a swift call of his name, he would be there to be the guardian of liyue and anyone residing in it.

and that includes you, the sole mortal that the young adeptus enjoys the company of.

a gasp tears through your throat as you sit up in your bed, sweat dripping down the side of your face. your eyes are blown wide open with the visions of your nightmare still clear in your mind. the rapid beating of your heart and panting are the only sounds heard in your otherwise quiet bedroom.

curses spill from your lips as you cradle your head in your hands, your knees pulled up to your chest to try and make yourself as small as you possibly could. but to no avail, no matter what you did to comfort yourself or make yourself forget the nightmare, the visions still flashed in your memories every time you closed your eyes.

you don't hear the rustling from your window, nor did you feel the presence of someone crouching from behind your curtains. it's only when he gently calls your name do you whip your head around, eyes coming face to face with golden eyes that gleam in the moonlight.

"xiao... sorry i didn't see you there," you stutter, quickly wiping your eyes and turning away so the young adeptus wouldn't see you crying. his eyes narrow at you, eyebrows furrowing as a frown settles on his face. "what are you-"

your hands are pulled away from your face and you're pulled closer to him. "you're crying." you try to deny xiao's observation and reassure him that you're fine, but a hand gently brushes against your cheek.

xiao doesn't say anything when the tears begin falling down your face again. he doesn't say anything when you jump into his arms and bury your face in his chest. you feel his arms firmly wrap themselves around you. he doesn't say a word, but his actions alone assure you that he would be there with you for the rest of the evening.

"sleep. should any more dreams come to haunt you during your rest, i'll be here to dispose of them."

❀ zhongli

as an archon, zhongli doesn't find much need for sleep. he's a god and no god needs sleep to be energized for the following day. it's not like it would do well for him anyways, seeing as he would much rather prefer strolling the lit up streets of liyue harbor in the late evening before returning to his home to drink tea and relax.

that's not to say he isn't familiar with dreams and how they can affect mortals. he knows full well the impact they can have, especially if they're dreams filled with horrible outcomes or stuff nobody would like to be reminded of.

so when you come to him to seek comfort after a horrible night, he's ready to welcome you into his embrace.

the gentle whisper of zhongli's name alerts him of your presence from the hallway in your shared home. the archon lifts his head to look at you, eyes made of molten gold meeting your shaking gaze. "what's wrong, dear?" you don't answer his question and instead shift your gaze to the ground.

zhongli tells you to "come here" in the gentlest voice he could muster, and you do. as soon as you sit beside your lover, his hand comfortingly holds your jaw and lifts your face so you can see him. there's nothing but endearment and love in his gaze. "you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."

he hums in amusement seeing the way your body relaxes after that. there's a gentle tug on your arm, a signal for you to find comfort in zhongli's embrace, and you find yourself snug in between the archon's arms. you inhale deeply, zhongli's comforting scent filling your lungs.

his hands rake gently up and down your spine and hearing his heartbeat from where you rest on his chest calms you immensely. if it weren't for your nervous, rhythmic tapping against his arm, zhongli would have assumed you fell back asleep in his arms.

"would you like to hear about the play i've been attending to recently? the plot is quite interesting, i think you would enjoy it." he attempts to distract you for a while to calm your nerves after waking so abruptly, and it works, not to his surprise.

as he drones on and on about the plot that doesn't quite make sense to you in your dazed state, the archon notices the way your fingers have stilled and your breathing has evened out, much calmer and more regulated than before. zhongli smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"it's starting to get late. you should try to rest again. don't worry, i'll be beside you should anything happen to you once more."

curious.

featuring. mahito x fem!reader

wc. 1.5k

genre. smut, dark/taboo

tw. 18+ nsfw, noncon, stalking, somnophilia, alcohol, thigh fucking, penetration, size kink, stomach bulge

synopsis. there’s just one thing mahito has yet to learn about human anatomy... and when you hobble out of a bar at daybreak, you’re about as good as volunteering your body.

What a poor, lost little thing you are, trudging through the back alleyways of Tokyo with little to go on under the twinkling twilight. You stumble around in the darkness as if trying to outrun the first rays of sunlight, fingers fumbling to find purchase on the sides of buildings unfamiliar to you. You must’ve been drinking all night long to require wall support to keep you upright now, hiccuping as you drag your hands along the concrete. Truly the lowest of the low, a runt in a world teeming with lesser beings. Human swine would do well to know their limits, but apparently you don’t.

And what an easy target you make; a little too easy, even. You wouldn’t have a clue what was happening if Mahito cornered you now, idle transfiguration descending upon you with a single touch of the hand. 

But what a waste that would be, disfiguring a remarkable specimen like you, so utterly out of it that you can’t even tell that he’s right behind you—so dangerously close that he’s practically breathing down your neck as you make your way home.

Sure, Mahito has his pick of the city’s stragglers at all times of the day, but what suddenly draws him to you lies in how disheveled you look, the little bit of makeup you have on smeared across your face, that low cut shirt of yours riding even lower than it was made to.

Not to mention that he’s absolutely dying to get more acquainted with human “anatomy”—but he hates how his victims squirm and squeal when he takes his time, as if they have any chance of actually escaping him. It’s an insult, really, so he figures he’ll go after someone on the more... susceptible side. Someone who’s not only wandering around alone, but also on the brink of collapse, unable to call for help. Someone who makes no attempt to fight back, someone who will let him have his way with them, someone who doesn’t mind the intrusion simply because there is no alternative.

Someone exactly like you.

You’re making this way too simple, not a single look behind you as you stagger your way home. You even have the courtesy to leave the front door of your house ajar, the stupid little thing that you are, not an ounce of energy left to spare as you pass out into the bed.

He’s on top of you immediately, ripping your clothes off to ogle their contained contents. So this is the female body, he thinks, half mesmerized, half disgusted by the way your taut tits spill out from underneath your already revealing shirt. He studies every inch of your exposed skin carefully before rolling your sensitive nubs between his fingers, finding that they stiffen on command. Even when you’re out cold you react to his touch; he was right not to kill you immediately. 

His personal playground, exactly the way he wanted it.

Proportions aside, he finds that there are few differences between his male body and your own. But there’s something that piqued his interest at a movie showing once and he wants it to try for himself today. He palms at his erection, intrigued by his natural reaction to the sight of you all sprawled out. Is there really something so special about it? He can’t say he sees the appeal, but apparently his body can, his bulge pressing harder against the cloth the longer he looks at you.

His pants come undone when he feels his damp excitement through the fabric, glint of his precum illuminated by the kiss of the rising sun, satisfying heaviness of his dick bared to the ticklish air. He marvels at the way his hand fits perfectly around his length, fisting it as he stares at the rise and fall of your chest. This is the part that he didn’t get to see on screen, the part where he ruts against your lower half with his own.

It’s not like he knows what he’s doing yet, bucking his hips into the first thing he can fit his dick into: the space between your thighs. Mahito squeezes them together and slips his shaft between the plushy flesh, reveling in the chills that run up his stomach. It’s a nice visual, the way his cock disappears for a moment before resurfacing atop of your barren legs, and an even nicer sensation. But it doesn’t quite feel half as good as he thought it would be. His mind races with the flickering images of o-shaped mouths and curled up fingers. Humans are so… dramatic, he thinks to himself, pulling his meat out of the cushy canal of his creation.

But then his eyes wander to your silken panties, the one place he hasn’t ventured yet; how annoying that humans wear more clothes under their clothes. He laughs to himself when he pushes them aside to reveal a wet, pulsating mound. Now that’s more like it. A finger inches inside you, followed by another, as he tries to determine if it’s a good fit or not.

Well, he won’t know until he tries.

Burying himself inside your leaking cunt, he gasps at the way you hug him flawlessly. It’s warmer, so much warmer than your thighs, and suddenly it feels like he’s alive for the first time in his life. Your breathing changes as he starts to move, pushing your ragdoll figure into the mattress. Tingly pleasure envelops him entirely when little whimpers and moans begin to tumble from your lips.

Mahito bends over to meet your mouth, taste of hard liquor encircling his tongue as he forces it inside, exploring your wetness in its entirety. You share a soft groan when he adjusts his angle, hilt of his cock pushing against a spot so spongy and so textured that his sensitive head shivers in pleasure.

Fistfuls of flesh gathered in his hands, he continues to move by instinct, chasing after the milky cream that foams around the base of his cock. The slip and slide motion of each and every stroke seems to register even while you sleep, your hips rocking ever so slightly into his own, mouth moving open and shut but never quite overflowing with distinguishable words.

The lewd noises of your dripping pussy fill the room, second only to the clapping of skin on skin as his tender balls pound against you. Reckless abandon takes over and the snapping movement is driven by so much force that you begin to stir, eyes twitching.

But you’re not awake yet—responsive, but otherwise subdued. He knows because the things that spill from your lips next can only come from a person who can’t even tell that they’re being raped.

“It feels… so…” you whisper, and he pauses for a moment to listen to what you have to say.

“Feels so… full…”

He throbs at the words, instantly feeling himself grow harder, deciding that it’s time to try out one of his little “experiments.”

“Feels full, huh?” he says into the curve of your neck, crooked smile dancing on his lips. “Good thing I can make you feel even fuller.”

Reshaping himself is almost second nature at this point. Mahito stretches you out with the deft fattening of his cock, your walls drawing taut around him in turn. Snug, you become impossibly snug around him as you throw your head back, convulsing from the pressure. It’s an inhuman size, so monstrous that when he pistons his pelvis forward, he finds it substantially harder to bottom out.

The clear outline of his cock stares him in the face now, a delicious belly bulge shifting up and down with every slam. You struggle to catch your breath, the stimulation forcing you to release your hot, sticky fluids. Entire body shaking, you keen your satisfaction, stilling only when his thrusts run shallow.

A jittery feeling takes the human curse over, the buildup of all the sweet sensations bubbling over and bursting from his fully stimulated cockhead. He pulls it out to get a better look and ends up squirting all over you, shooting his seed onto your thighs and teats. How delightful, he thinks to himself, overjoyed by how it glistens in the full heat of the sun. The perfect present for you to wake up to.

It’s quiet now, only a soft pant—yours—audible in the spring of day. 

He ponders his options. You could take hours to come to your senses. But as much as he’d love to take off now, to leave you in total confusion and bewilderment, his desire to see the absolute horror cross your face as you take in the spatters of dried-up cum is even stronger. And eventually, he gets just that.

You don’t disappoint, bleary eyes fluttering open in your half-conscious state, locking with the curse crouched beside you, then darting wildly from the mess he’s made to the stitches on his face. How fortunate, or rather unfortunate; you were born with enough latent talent to be able to perceive him. You’d scream, but he’s already ahead of you, covering your mouth before you can produce a single squeal.

“Morning, dollface.” Tears prickle your eyes as you look on in fright, too afraid to move a muscle.

“I had a lot of fun in bed, didn’t you?”

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

Nebulosity - an illustration from Chapter 14 of Two Ghosts, a Lower Decks story about being somewhere between alive and dead.

Tendi flickered faintly under a dark sky. The Milky Way stretched as a belt of glittery white and dusty dark lanes to her south, and the Great Nebula--which she had remembered the Federation gave the uninspired catalogue number “M-42” and had once been mistaken as a mere comet in Earth’s skies--was a broad clump of faint gray gas to her east. A trapezium of bright stars could be split from the cloudy nebula, if she paid attention. Overhead, three bright stars (Mintaka, Alnilam, and Alnitak) twinkled, arranged like a nearly equilateral triangle of bright blue-white stars in an especially glittery part of the sky away from the Milky Way. These were the pointers of the winter constellations, which Tendi knew by heart.

...

“Where are we?” Rutherford said.

“Orion, East Yu’obik,” Tendi said.

“Yu’obik?” Rutherford said.

“The middle of nowhere,” Tendi said.

“Ah.”

“I used to come here to stargaze when I was a kid. You know, before the Tascaren defense array went up and drowned everything out.”

“Oh,” Rutherford said. He pointed at the star-laden grayish cloud in the sky. He could see blues, pinks, and whites with his implant eye, but his biological eye saw only a dull blue boxy core with faint fuzzy gray wings. “What’s that?”

“That’s the Great Nebula. It’s one of the most prolific star-forming regions in this part of the galaxy,” Tendi said. “And it’s got lots of nifty hiding spots in the Bok Globules, so science ships have to be really careful when studying it. Actually you can see the Bok Globules with a telescope.”

“Bok Globules?” Rutherford said.

“Clumps of dust where a planetary system forms,” Tendi said, “they look like dark spots.”

“You can see that from your home!?” Rutherford said.

“Well, in the city, the lights are so bright that you only ever get a faint hint of it without binoculars or holograph tubes,” Tendi said, “and not a chance you’ll see the Globules.”

“Woah,” Rutherford said.

I had a crummy unfinished version of this drawing lying in my art folder for a couple months. When I wrote Two Ghosts Chapter 14, which includes basically this scene, I decided to finish the illustration. Though I redrew most of it, since Rutherford’s face was awful. And I ended up completely redrawing Tendi, since she wears an outdated uniform in Two Ghosts.

Rutherford’s holographic scanner is red because it preserves dark adaptation better and he’s being polite by not shining a bright blue screen in Tendi’s face.

The nebula is Messier 42, the Great Orion Nebula, as imaged with my smartphone at the Cline Observatory at GTCC in NC, where I volunteer. Smartphone astrophotography is usually a bad idea, but with 24 inches of aperture to work with, a very-well calibrated mount, and one of the most spectacular nebulae in the sky, it wasn’t hard to get good results. Tendi’s recollection of the history of M42 as seen from Earth is partly inaccurate--as far as I know it was never actually mistaken for a comet, however it was included in Charles Messier’s catalogue of 110 stationary faint fuzzy objects which are not comets but might be mistaken for one if you’re looking for comets.

So yeah in my headcanon Orion the planet is embedded in the Orion OB1 associations of bright hot young stars. The star itself is probably older than that association and nebulae and is ‘just passing through,’ but the result is its inhabitants are privy to a spectacular sky full of bright stars and a nebula which appears to the unaided eye as bright as it would in a telescope at perhaps 30-50x magnification in a 12″ telescope. And the view through a telescope? It’d be spectacular. Unfortunately the Orion Syndicate controls much of that region of space, and as a result, science ships have a dangerous job studying the region’s complex and interesting nebular and stellar terrain. Large-aperture space telescopes (subspace, radio, and optical) remain astrophysically relevant even for the study of local objects in the 24th century... mainly due to interstellar politics!

Can you do a scenario where satan and mc get sucked into a book together? pls and thank u

You had been several chapters into your reading of the Princess Bride when Satan flicked that fate-stained page, and let something wicked loose. The air had left your lungs as the room crumbled all around you. A vortex of wind, and sea-salt swept breezes poured outward from the ink which marred the page, and it took hold of you both, and dragged you within. The first thing you hear is laughter. Your eyelids give way to a vast darkness; stars flickering far more brightly in the sky than they ever had before. They were uncountable, only a milky whorl of light. Crinkling your nose, the scent of burning wood, and embers flood your senses. Twisting where you lay, you can make out three figures. One, which was the source of the hearty laughter was far larger than the other two. Another held curls which waterfalled down their back, and the last was impossibly small. As you try to push yourself onto your feet, you discover that your hands have been bound behind your back. Though you struggle against the bonds, they do not give. "What is this?" you shout, voice raising over the embers. The three figures turn towards you, and the smallest speaks: "Now, now, save your energy, sweetheart." he sneered. Squinting, you can just barely make out their faces for the first time. The largest seems almost hauntingly familiar to you, and without thinking, you ask: "Fezzik?" the enormous man tilts his head to one side, but it is the smallest which speaks again: "That oaf isn't going to help you." he remarked, with a laugh. If that was Fezzik, then... All of a sudden, a voice calls out through the darkness: "Avast ye' fiends!" through the film of embers, and smoke, you can make out a figure dressed in all black, with a mask obscuring his features. “What is all this now?” the man with the waterfall hair, Inigo, asked- his hand moving to the handle of his blade. From where he was standing atop a rock, the man in black announced: “I believe you foul men have something that doesn’t belong to you.” the edges of his lips turned up into a smile. “And I- the Dread Pirate Roberts have come to reclaim it!” his smile grew ever wider, and under his breath he muttered: “I’ve always wanted to do that.” the small man, Vizzini, shook his head, and then barked an order: “Deal with him.” to which Inigo rose from his place atop a log, unsheathing his weapon as he approached the man in black. As the pair shared words, and their blades began to sing against one another, you struggled against your binds- shifting over the sand until Fezzik thundered over, and lifted you up into his big, calloused hands. “Up we go.” he murmured, carrying you as one would carry a princess. Struggling within his grip, you raised yourself up over one shoulder, and looked back on the ongoing fight. From between crossed blades, the man in black met yours eyes with his own, which were a startling green: “Don’t worry.” he called, lips turned up one side of his face in a half-smile: “I’ll come for you!” it was as you looked into his eyes that your own widened. “Satan?” you screamed, digging your nails into the giant’s back as you tried to wrangle yourself free from his grasp.  Only, it was all in vain, and the clashing swordsmen slowly faded out of sight. The night was drawing long, now, and you could see the sun cresting just over the horizon- gentle rays clearing what appeared to be the top of a mountainside. It was nearly an hour later before you saw a shadowy figure trailing just paces behind you. You parted your lips to speak when Satan beat you to it: “You haven’t gotten rid of me yet!” a hand on one hip, he beamed from ear to ear. The giant, Fezzik, slowly turned to face the man in black: “You haven’t given up yet.” he remarked, and Satan shook his head: “How could I give up when you have the most irreplaceable person in all the realms?” you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Something seemed to shift in Fezzik’s demeanor as he regarded the man in black, and slowly, he placed you down onto the ground. You had begun to hurry towards Satan when small hand made its way around your waist: “Now, now, you aren’t going anywhere.” Vizzini smile, leading you away from the pair. As you looked backward, you caught sight of Fezzik slamming his meaty fist down onto Satan’s shoulder, and a horrendous crack sounded throughout the mountaintop. Instinctively, you gasped, but as Satan rolled to one side, clutching his arm, you heard him say: “You should really know better than to cross a pirate.” You didn’t have the chance to see what happened next because Vizzini had begun to pull you down the slope of a hill where it bottomed out into a valley. Wildflowers sprouted up from deep within the dirt, and with one, solid push, Vizzini threw you to the ground. You coughed as a rock hit the center of your chest, dust rising on the air in front of you as the small man began to tighten your bindings. With another motion, he laced a swath of fabric over your mouth, preventing you from opening it. The sun had risen higher, now. Nearby, you could see Vizzini rummaging within a bag. A moment later, before you could even grasp a hold of your surroundings, Satan began to barrel down the slope. “It’s time to give it up.” he called, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath- sword in the devil’s grip as he approached. Vizzini paused his rummaging to raise both of his hands: “I am no threat to you, that much is obvious.” he began, and Satan raised an eyebrow. “Still, I can’t just let you take them.” the little man continued, gesturing with one raised hand towards where you lay. “So what do you intend to do?” the man in black asked, holding the blade towards Vizzini. This is when the small man lowered his hands, slowly, and pulled a pair of goblets out of his bag. Placing them down upon a flattened stone, he then retrieved a cask of wine. “I propose a game.” he began, pouring a bit of wine into each goblet. Slowly, Satan lowered his sword, and slid it into its sheath. “Within this locket is a sachet of iocane powder, one of the most deadly poisons known to man.” Vizzini tugged at a locket around his neck, and threw it towards the man in black. “You may poison the goblet of your choosing, and then present each to yourself, and I. I will have my choice of one, and you will drink the other. Whoever drinks the poisoned wine loses. Simple enough for you?” the little man raised an eyebrow, a smug smile upon his lips. Protest died on your lips as you squirmed beneath your bindings, and briefly, Satan flicked his gaze to you. Even through that slash of black fabric, you could make out his striking emerald eyes. After a moment of contemplation, Satan returned his gaze to Vizzini: “Very well.” the smile on the short man’s lips grew wider. Taking both goblets in hand, the Devil took them around to his back, certain Vizzini could not see them there, and then deposited the poison. You only wish you could have seen which goblet he had dropped it into. The goblets returned to their places, Vizzini placed both hands on his knees, and regarded Satan’s shrouded face. A moment passed, and then the little man began to speak: “All I have to do is divine from what I know of you: are you the sort of man who would put the poison into his own goblet, or his enemy’s? Now-” the words died before they left his lips. Blood bubbled up from the pit of Vizzini’s stomach, the length of a thin blade disappearing into fabric, and flesh as Satan twisted it in his gut. The little man’s eyes widened, for a moment, and his hands desperately clutched at the wound, but it was already too late. “You see, much as I find the prospect of this little game charming, I can’t overlook what you’ve done to my precious cargo.” Satan reached for a goblet, bringing the edge to his lips as he let the tart swill drift down his throat. As he swallowed, he continued: “In fact, it’s made me quite angry.” the words dripped from his lips with a venom that set your skin afire. The devil rose to his feet, dropping the locket and the empty sachet of iocane powder down onto the stone slab. Resting a foot atop Vizzini’s hip, Satan looked down at him with unfeeling eyes, tilting his head to one side. “But don’t think that you would have won with wit, either.” he breathed, wrapping his hand around the handle of his sword. Satan leaned downward, a smile creeping up his lips: “I poisoned both goblets.” he murmured, just before wrenching the sword out of its resting place in Vizzini’s gut. With one, smooth motion, he slid the sword back into its sheath, and for the first time since before the game began, turned his gaze onto you. The corners of Satan’s eyes widened, for a moment, before softening. “A built up immunity to iocane powder does wonders for a man, don’t you think?” he murmured, helping you to your feet before unwinding the knot of the gag at the back of your head. The second you could breathe freely again, you asked: “Did you really have to let it go on for so long?” and Satan only half-laughed, a hand on your cheek as he peered down at you through his mask. “Careful, now, I have half the mind to leave you in your shackles.” he remarked, tugging gently on the rope which bound your hands together. You looked up at the devil with defiant eyes, stumbling a bit forward as he tugged. “I’m only joking.” Satan insisted, working at the knotted mess with careful fingers. In a moment, it gave way, and your wrists were once again free. Only, the second you taste freedom, the sounds of trumpets going off in the distance becomes audible. “What is that?” you ask Satan, jerking your gaze towards a small company of horsemen, galloping down the hill. Following your gaze, Satan sighs: “That’s Prince Humperdink, your would-be husband.” he offered, grabbing a hold of your wrist. “You’re joking.” you reply with an incredulous expression, but the rush with which he hurries you forward, towards the wood, affirms his seriousness. “Where are we going?” you ask, casting a glance backward as the group grows closer. “The Fire Swamps.” Satan replied, leading the way through shrubbery, and foliage. Thorns dug their way into the fabric of your clothes, tearing at your cheek, though the devil took the brunt of it all- his arm out in front of him to deflect the branches. Only, as you neared what you thought was a clearing, Satan came to an abrupt stop. Catching yourself on his arm, you peer down to find that the forest floor breaks off into a deep ravine. “What are we-” you began, but Satan broke your chain of words: “You need to push me.” he explained. “Push you? What are you--” the sounds of footsteps in the distance grow louder, but it is the abruptness of Satan’s lips upon yours that silences your voice. Your eyes grow wide at the edges, and his gentle hand lifts your chin. The feeling of his lips against yours is faint, and feverish; flush with the breathy heat of the chase as they melt against you. Instinctively, you move to push him off of you- your hands colliding with his chest as his feet push off of the edge of the cliff, and the ground disappears beneath him. “Not now-” you begin, only to realize what you have done. Branches catch and snare on Satan’s clothes as he tumbles down the slope of the ravine, and from within its belly, he calls: “As you wish.” his voice echoes throughout the ravine, and guilt brewing in your chest, you slip down the edge just the same, and begin the descent. The world collapses around you; twigs, dirt, and rock all fading into one violent blur which batters you over, and over again. When you reach the bottom, the air is knocked clean out of your lungs, but the ground beneath you feels oddly soft. A groan sounds just beneath your chest, and pushing up, you realize you’ve landed atop the fool who first got you into this mess. “You’re really an idiot, you know.” you remark, and Satan lets out a pained laugh. “Of all the things people have ever thought of me- idiot was never one of them.” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. In that instant, the unruly spell which had bound the both of you to the pages of that book unwound itself, and your surroundings melted away.

Hope (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Ethan and Pooja's thoughts before and after the first time Pooja goes to his home (Set in Book 1, Chapter 8)

A/N: Never thought I would be able to complete this, but here we are! Honestly it is a mess, but I still hope it is an enjoyable mess😃

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Rating: General

Word Count: around 1.7K

Category: Kinda angsty (??)

Trope(s): And there’s some good ol’ Pining

Warnings: None that I noticed

Ethan:

There was a strange calm in the sky, the moon sparkling milky white. Seconds seemed to drift slowly with gentle ripples, like rose petals floating on a calm pond.

And amidst this ataraxy, was a restless, defeated heart. Every pass of a second seemed like a stab in his already wounded soul, breaking him, making him lose in the game which he thought he had mastered.

The red glare of the traffic light felt like a warning but he was too tired to notice.

He let his mind recall the moments the day brought, throat tightening at one and mind filling with surprise at the other.

How easy it was to tell her about Naveen.

As if it wasn't a conscious decision, just him uttering words prophecied. And how naturally she had offered to help him.

As if they were words practised. Repeated a hundred times in front of a mirror.

In a time when one hand was slowly leaving him, another one was gently lending hers.

Never in years had he thought he would be this enamoured by an intern.

Every word she uttered, every task she accomplished, every case she handled. It felt like she was climbing a staircase of differences, slowly cracking the image of doe-eyed amateurs idolizing him.

An image that had become a constant in front of him.

It was a ploy of the universe, surely, that had twisted the circumstances to be like they were now. Otherwise what would have had the power to unite three generations of mentors and mentees together like that in a single motion?

As the sand from the sand clock kept drifting away slowly, he started to arrange the strings of thoughts in his mind into a neat yarn, all ready to knit the cardigan of recounting the disaster that he had stored like a dried leaf from fall in between yellow pages of an old journal.

There was a chilling silence around him, even if the traffic shrieked chaos outside.

It made him second guess everything, making him think as if he was supposedly making the biggest mistake of his life.

The glare of red seemed to get stronger, almost blinding, painful. He tried to place convincing statements, that he was just letting a doctor know the nitty-gritty of a medical case seemingly impossible to solve. So that he can dream of that ray of sunshine filtering through large boulder-like grey clouds.

So that he can hope.

And every time it struck him that he had been choosing to look at that sparkle instead of the black gloom spread all around because she was in this with him, he felt a numb spread through his soul.

He knew he was letting her in, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Rather, there was nothing he wanted to do about it.

It frightened him, this closeness, this letting go of a cloak of seclusion that he had been wearing for years now.

Why did life have to make him stand at crossroads, make a choice he didn't want to?

It felt as if somebody had made a path of clouds for him to reach the sun, and every time he took a step, he fell. He had never complained about it, living silently in the piercing darkness that held him within its confines.

But this one while, he wanted to shriek. He wanted to complain. He wanted to go against every force of nature that stopped him. Because this time it wasn't just a wish.

It was a need for him.

Unbeknownst to him, the lights flickered and change positions. The red seized to exist and the green came into existence, and it was a glare from behind him that finally made him notice the change.

Barely stopping the overflowing dam of heartfelt emotions, that had finally managed to break the walls he had built piece by piece, with precision, over the years, he rushed past blurry sky-risers, taking a step towards whatever destiny had in store for him.

-----

Pooja:

When she opens her wardrobe, her first instinct is to go for that chic dress she bought some time ago. The thought is quickly followed by a mental forehead smack, and she goes for a casual, everyday outfit instead.

When she followed him into the area of repairs, she would have never guessed that a simple follow of curiosity would spiral into this. She, an intern, going to the home of Dr Ethan Ramsey.

She wondered if it has ever happened before & if it would ever happen again. The answer flashed before she even had the time to ponder. It was a No.

Tying her hair in a casual ponytail, she let out a yawn, a reminder of the long day at work, and of the secret that was trapped in the labyrinths of her mind, threatening to come out anytime.

Bits of the conversation that had got imprinted on the film rolls of her mind, played continuously in a loop, reminding her of the responsibility that rested on her shoulder. The trust that he had placed on her.

She couldn't let him down.

When in hushed, muted tones, he had asked her for the promise, she had given it to him without a thought. She couldn't let him break. She couldn't let him lose.

She couldn't let him down.

Like a mantra, she let the words repeat over and over and over again until they got etched in her heart. And then, with an attempt to centre herself, she walked on to the destination she was supposed to reach.

-----

Ethan:

The cool for the air-conditioning unit covered the entire area, as the clock pleasantly ticked in a monotonous harmony.

The blue ocean of his eyes was in turmoil, waves of reason and feelings crashing against each other, ravaging a storm. The ship of his stood through it all, but he was afraid that any moment now, it would reach its breaking point.

In the distance was a clearing in the sky. A stray ray of gold attracted him, and he went on, never stopping for once. It was her presence.

He couldn't tell if they were words knitted with excruciating perfection with yarns of her heart, or a piece of cloth she had bought and handed over to him, neatly so that he doesn't notice.

But for once, he wanted to believe in the words her mellifluous voice scribbled in the air. For once, he wanted to hold on to that ray, which the clouds of fate threatened to hide.

For once, he wanted to hope.

It felt as if his search was over. A wind had finally gained the power to carry away the blanket of misery and pain that had been surrounding him for years now.

Maybe the forces of nature had finally decided to grant him the wish he made to a shooting star when he was a kid and gifted him with the most precious treasure anyone could ever ask for.

All she did was place a hand on his thigh, but it felt as if she had dragged him from the darkness to the bright sunshine, holding his hand in hers, making him relish the soft touches of flowers petals and rustle of hair along with the gentle breeze.

Is this how it felt to slowly travel through the meadows of affection, gathering flowers of trust, hope and respect to make the bouquet of his heart? One that he had given to her without telling her anything, today?

Is this how it felt to fall in love?

He closed his eyes as if to stop the circle of thoughts that had taken a direction he had been avoiding for a long time without his permission. The gardens his soul was paying a visit to, was dangerous tranquillity, a threatening calm.

And he was afraid, that one wrong step could burn down the entire world of two lives that had got intertwined without each other's knowledge.

He was not ready to take the risk.

-----

Pooja:

The pages of her journal rustled in neglect as she continued twirling the pen in her hand.

She was supposed to be writing in the details of this day, but instead all she could do was recollect fragments of all the conversations she had had during the past hours. A few tendrils of her hair playfully danced in the wind, as she got up and went to stand on the balcony.

She let the milky white shimmer dress her, soothe her as the future stood in a tangled yarn of uncertainty, too difficult to reach.

There was a pain getting etched in her heart, as it sobbed silently for her mentor and grand mentor. Was there really no way out?

A quick whisper from the demon of self-doubt told her that if The Ethan Ramsey could not solve the mystery, how could she, a doe-eyed intern?

She shook her head as if to throw the thought away. This wasn't the time of comparing whose skill set was better than whose. If she had dared to awake a lamp of hope in Dr Ramsey's heart, how could she give up on attempts herself?

In tumultuous times, when there were more chances of defeat than success, she wanted to bear the flambeau of hope that can light even the darkest of nights. She wanted to be the force that would make him rethink his abilities and try again after every failure.

She wanted to be the picture that could fill his heart with hope.

And she knew that it would take every ounce of her strength. Keeping the situation a secret from friends who had always had her back. Always looking at the bright side. Always bearing optimism.

When she had uttered "Promise" to him in the hallway in the morning, she knew what she was signing up for. This time, she would have to be the strength of herself and him. She would have to be the ear he could always whisper to. The shoulder he could always lay his head on. The hand he could always hold when he felt like letting go and giving up.

But she was ready to give it all. No matter how threatening, no matter how dangerous.

She was ready to take the risk.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

Tags🤎 (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @izzyourresidentlawyer @phoenixrising308 @adiehardfan @quixoticdreamer16 @a-crepusculo @cordonianruby @gryffindordaughterofathena

Ethan x Pooja: @aleynareads @choicesaddict5 @stygianflood @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @takemyopenheart @mm2305 @kit-rookie-princess

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@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

Midnight Train

one shot

┗ pairing : kyungsoo x reader

word count : 7.5k (ohmygod this was supposed to be a drabble)

warnings : language, explicit sex

a/n; I saw a picture of soo on a train and was suddenly inspired. also, don’t go with a stranger to a hotel. not a good idea in real life. be safe kids. I have zero self restraint when it comes to soo, please forgive me.

You don’t know what time it is, and honestly you don’t really care. But it’s late, you can tell that much. Clusters of tiny stars are shining brightly against the inky blackness of the cloudless night sky, the full moon bathing the city in its soft milky glow.

Any other night, perhaps you’d stare up at it in awe, bustling mind eased and taken by its natural beauty. It’s not often you see a night sky like that, so vast and endless and whole, unobscured by clouds or light pollution.

But tonight, it hurts. It hurts to look at something so beautiful.

Because tonight, you lost something beautiful. Or at least, something you once believed was beautiful. Maybe that’s why it hurts so terribly, sitting like heavy stones in your chest, a lingering reminder refusing to let you be. Because something you’d once thought was beautiful turned out to be something so horrifically gnarled and ugly, something so twisted and mangled that you’d managed to fool yourself into believing it was magnificent.

It’s the feeling of betrayal that has salty tears dripping down your cheeks, slipping down over your shuddering lips and clinging to the slope of your chin.

You feel tricked.

You feel lied to.

You feel deeply wronged.

So you stand on that metal platform surrounded by the cool night air, crying silently and so terribly alone, and you refuse to look up at the beautiful starry sky, only staring blankly ahead at the dull metal wall on the opposite side of the rusting tracks.

The platform trembles beneath your sneaker clad feet as the train pulls into the station. A low screech shatters the heavy silence that previously encased you and you blink in mild surprise, abruptly broken from your inner turmoil. Your hand lifts, roughly swiping away any lingering wetness from your face before you’re pressing forward. It takes more concentration than it should have to push through the weakness in your knees, but you manage, stepping carefully over the small gap in the floor and through the door.

A middle aged man dressed in navy blue greets you with a vaguely forced smile, eyes tired and underlined by dark bags. It must’ve been a long day for him as well. Sympathy draws the corners of your lips upward, though you’re certain it looks unstable and awkward on your downcast face.

Moving past him, you take in the state of the train. A soft breathe of relief escapes your lips, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. Empty. Completely empty. As much could be expected at this hour of the night. Most people were already home, tucked safely beneath the comforting warmth of their duvets.

If only…

Swallowing back the thought, you make your way through the rows of seats, not stopping until you reach the very back of the vacant train car. Your exhausted body is more than happy to slump against the plush red fabric, limbs going slack the moment your butt makes contact. It’s pure relief for your sore feet and unsteady legs.

But the relief is short lived.

Only a handful of seconds pass before there’s a familiar tug in your chest, and you’re thrown right back into the abyss of your own memories, regrets, and sorrows. A slow ache consumes your head and you have to close your eyes. Too much is going on in your mind. You wish there was an off button for your thoughts. Better yet, your emotions– your pain. Life would be far more convenient that way.

A muffled voice suddenly crackles over the intercom, announcing the train’s departure from the station. Your eyes flutter open and, by chance, they flick over, only to widen in surprise.

There, in the seat on the opposite side of the aisle, is a man.

For a moment, you’re confused as to how you could’ve missed him. Then you note how he’s hunched over, body curled in on itself, head resting up against the window. The glass has fogged beneath his nose, where a pair of thick rimmed glasses rest low on his bridge. The corner of your lip twitches at the sight of his hands tucked comfortably between his thighs. It’s cool for a summer night, and you find yourself wondering if he’s cold. The answer is a clear yes if the goosebumps decorating his arms are anything to go by. Your fingers subconsciously twitch towards the coat resting across your shoulders, the one thing you’d gone out of your way to grab on your way out.

Would it be too strange for you to offer it to him?

Something aches inside of you though at the sight of his downward arched brows and pouted lips. He looks so terribly alone and so awfully small. You couldn’t just leave him like that. Stranger or otherwise, the thought of doing nothing made your stomach twist unpleasantly.

Silently, you tug at the sleeves of the coat until it falls off your shoulders, pooling behind you uselessly. Sliding carefully to the edge of your seat, you tap your fingers gently against the plastic lining of his. If he hears it, he ignores it. Or, perhaps he’s sleeping. But, with how tightly his jaw is clenched, you doubt that.

“Excuse me?” The words are a whispered breath on your lips. Nonetheless, they were effective in finally drawing his attention. Slowly, his eyes flicker open and drift over to meet yours. For a moment, the ability to speak is stolen from you.

Those eyes— they were big and round and deep. Deeper and darker than the entire ocean, or rather, the night sky. Because within their depths, were stars. Bright, twinkling flecks of soft light. It was like he’d stolen them right out of the night sky.

They were iridescent. And they were beautiful.

So beautiful that it hurt.

It hurt to look at him.

But it was a different kind of hurt. It was the delicious kind that reaches beneath your skin and deep into your very being. That ripples through you in slow, heavy waves, igniting blistering flames in their wake. They pull you in and swallow you whole all at once. Looking away wasn’t an option. Even if you could, you’re not so sure you’d want to.

He raises a confused brow. The motion, however slight, enough to bring you out of your thoughts and back to the real world. Clearing your throat, you stutter back into motion, holding out the coat in suddenly warm palms. His features twist, a light frown pulling at the corners of his full lips as his gaze flicks between your face and the clothing item extended towards him.

Dryness invades your mouth and you force yourself to swallow down the sudden buzz of nerves, tipping your chin forward in feigned confidence.

“You look cold.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then he presses his lips together and you know simply from the look on his face that he’s about to refuse.

“Take it,” you insist with a soft chuckle before he gets the chance to shoot you down, “it seems like you need it more than I do.”

He glances down, briefly taking in the position he’s currently curled in. A soft shade of pink tints his cheeks and he clears his throat, straightening himself out. But it’s only when you nudge it persistently in his direction one last time that he finally accepts it, dipping his head in silent gratitude. You watch in quiet satisfaction as he slips it on, fitting him almost perfectly, albeit a pinch on the larger side.

The corner of your lips tip upward, then you turn away. The clicking and low hum of the train as it bustles along the tracks fills the silence that fell over you. Though it doesn’t last too tremendously long.

“Ah– I think this is yours.”

You almost flinch at the low, smooth voice that breaks through the quiet. Head spinning back around, you meet his large, beautiful eyes. Large, beautiful, red eyes.

Crying. He had been crying. It was obvious now. You could see it in his swollen eyelids, flushed cheeks and reddened nose. You wondered if he was looking back at you and seeing the same telltale signs of heartache in your features.

But you bite your tongue, and drop your gaze to the small, silver band cradled in his palm. A ring. Your ring. The same ring with those damn initials engraved on them. The same ring that carried too many memories.

Memories of cheesy pickup lines and secret glances. Memories of late night talks losing sleep. Memories of clammy hand and shy caresses. Memories of movie dates and hot blushes. Memories of petty arguments paved over by gentle kisses and murmured apologies. Memories of love. Memories of loss. Memories of lies and pain and betrayal. Memories you no longer wanted.

You sigh softly, a bittersweet smile touching your lips.

“Keep it.”

His eyebrows jump, gaze bouncing between the ring and your face. “It… looks important.”

“It was,” you admit softly, interlacing your fingers, “but not anymore.”

The expression that crosses his features catches you off guard. It’s not of confusion or of judgment or disbelief, but of understanding. Understanding. How rare.

“Are you sure?” He asks quietly.

For a moment, you fix your gaze on the small, silver item that not long ago made your heart soar with nothing but pure delight every time you looked at you, but that now roused only painful heartache and unwanted memories. There was no going back to how things were, no chance of recovery for your once steadfast love. You’d been proven wrong one too many times, and refuse to be made a fool of again.

Sometimes, holding on did more damage than letting go.

“I’m sure.”

He stares at you, a conflicted look glinting in his dark eyes. You couldn’t quite read him, couldn’t quite make sense of the swirling emotions in his heavy gaze. But then he moved, fingertips reaching for something on the back of his neck. You tilted your head in confusion, briefly distracted by the endearing way his face twisted into an expression of concentration. Then, you catch a glimpse of something metallic— a necklace. He made quick work of the clasp, the item slipping easily off of his neck and into his awaiting palm.

“Then you…” he let out a soft breath as he extended his hand to you, fingers enclosed around the necklace, “you should take this.”

It was a simple piece of jewelry, a thin silver chain with what appeared to be a small, circular locket with two sets of initials engraved into it. The metal was surprisingly warm and you found yourself toying with the locket, tracing the pair of initials with your index finger.

“Which is yours?” You ask, glancing up at him.

“DKS. Doh Kyungsoo.”

“Doh Kyungsoo.” You repeat softly, testing his name on your tongue. There’s something melodic about the way it flows off your lips, and you like the way it tastes. Doh Kyungsoo. It was a name befitting his face.

“Pretty.”

It’s the lateness of the night that prevents your usual filter from functioning properly, the word escaping you before you can second guess it. Faint warmth touches your face, and you fix your eyes on the locket, not wanting to look up and gauge his reaction just yet.

“Thank you.” His voice is soft, and you find you can no longer fight the upward lift of your gaze. But the warm pink cheeks and shy smile you’re met with soothe the nervous buzz in your stomach. “And- and yours?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching as he slides a gentle thumb over the engravings. Everything about this man is gentle, soft, like the moonlight that falls across the sides of his face, making him appear to have a silver halo. His eyes, his skin, his voice, his lips; he’s soft all over, and you’re willing to bet that that same nature reaches into the very core of his being.

You wonder if he’d be soft under your fingertips, against your lips, caressing your skin.

The thought invades your mind so quickly that it momentarily stuns you, and you draw back, blinking hard and with a sudden warmth in your face. Your feelings always have the strangest timing.

He asked you a question, you remind yourself, forcing yourself out of the dangerous grip of your own thoughts.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n.” Your throat strains around the words and you have to swallow against the unexpected dryness.

His lips twirl. “Pretty.”

The cool air in the train car is suddenly suffocating.

Oh god.

“Do you have a place to stay for the night?”

What did you just say?

His eyes widen and you hold your breath, wishing you could pull the words right back out from the air that they now hung in, heavy and demanding, unable to be ignored.

“I don’t.”

The softness of his reply contrasts heavily with the expression that flashes across his face, the glint in his eye as his fingers tighten around your ring. You sink your teeth into the inside of your cheek, the warm metal of his locket pressing against your fingers.

“Me either.” You take a breath. “I know a hotel.”

Silence. Soft, warm, intoxicating silence.

Then his tongue drags over the full, pink flesh of his bottom lip, and you know you’re done for.

“Take me there.”

It’s a nice hotel.

The interior is pretty. Simple, but pretty. Flecks of gold complimenting soft, warm tones of brown. The woman behind the counter even manages to muster up a somewhat friendly smile as she passes you a room key despite the late hour; though, you’re certain she’d much rather be anywhere else in the world. You also don’t miss the soothing hum of orchestral melodies that pump through hidden speakers as you step into the mirrored walls of the elevator.

It’s a nice hotel.

But you can’t seem to appreciate it. Not fully, anyways. The mere knowledge of Doh Kyungsoo’s presence ruptures your sanity, and deems you wholly incapable of thinking rationally. The promise of midnight’s caress lingers in the air around you, invading your every sense like a poisonous gas. It’s something you can’t see, can’t smell, can’t touch. But you feel it. You feel it pulsing in your veins, dizzying your mind, eating away at your self control. It’s like there’s a string being pulled taut between you, the tension growing greater and greater with every passing second. Your gut churns in anticipation, skin prickling. You can barely keep your feet from shuffling and your hands from fidgeting as a foreign impatience gnaws at you.

But then the door of room 107 clicks shut, and the string snaps.

You have him pressed up against the door before your brain can condone it, mouth feasting on his. He doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, hands sliding around your waist and pressing into the small of your back, holding you tightly against him.

You pour yourself into his kiss, pour out your pain and heartache, pour out your hopes and dreams that will never be, pour out your longing and desperation. You pour until he’s overflowing. But even then, you don’t stop, and he doesn’t want you to. Because just as you’re pouring yourself into him, he’s pouring himself into you, filling you up in ways you never imagined possible, filling the void that another created. He’s chasing away the emptiness with his eager tongue, fending off the icy chill of betrayal with his warm caress.

Greedy fingers find the collar of your borrowed coat, hurriedly pushing it off his shoulders. There’s a soft thud when the thick material hits the floor. A low groan vibrates in his throat, one hand raising to cup the back of your head while your own slip beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. It’s over his head and discarded onto the floor in a matter of moments, and then there’s only skin. Warm, smooth skin. He’s hot to the touch, almost searing, but you can’t find it within yourself to mind the burn.

Distracted and disoriented by his feverish kiss, you don’t realize you’re moving backwards until the back of your knees hit the end of a mattress and suddenly you’re sprawled flat on your back. Kyungsoo hovers above you, panting and red in the face. His lips are swollen and a delicious shade of pink, just begging to be bitten. But it looks like he wants to say something, so you refrain.

“I— I don’t usually do things like this.” He admits, voice unstable and breathy. “Actually, I never do things like this.”

His confession has a light smile curling onto your lips. “Me either.” You murmur, admiring the way the silver moonlight spills across his sun kissed skin. He shudders faintly as your fingers trace over his bare waist, up over the small of his back, following the length of his spine until they reach their final destination, threading themselves through his thick black locks. His midnight eyes flutter behind the rims of his glasses when you offer a gentle tug. He makes no objection as you carefully remove the spectacles from his face, reaching over to set them gentle on the nightstand before returning your attention to his handsome face.

“But there’s a first for everything.”

He professes his agreement with the press of his hot mouth against yours. The kiss is softer this time, probably because you allow him to lead. It’s slow, deep, tender— tender in such a way that it’s somewhat surprising, especially between two strangers. But you don’t question it, instead relishing in the slow drags of his tongue and gentle nips of his teeth.

His lips are sweet, tasting of mint and honey. But there’s a bitterness, a distinctive saltiness that clings to the plush flesh. You don’t have to question if his tears slipped over them, tears he probably hadn’t bothered to wipe away. Briefly, you wonder if he can taste the lingering residue of your own heartache. Then you feel an unmistakable hardness against your hip, and stop thinking all together.

He groans, the sound soft and low. “Can I touch you?”

You don’t miss a beat. “Yes.”

At your concession, warm fingers rouse goosebumps across your skin as he feathers delicate touches over your exposed stomach. Chills roll down your spine, body arching up, seeking out more— and he happily delivers. You jolt as he presses his face into your neck, hot tongue licking from the curve of your jaw down to the slope of your shoulder. All the while, his hands slip higher up your body, sliding beneath the thin fabric of your blouse, not stopping until they find the swells of your bra clad chest. You hiss as his thumb drifts underneath of it, slowly circling your rapidly hardening nipple.

He hums against your collarbone, pleased with your reaction. “Sensitive?” He asks, though you can just make out the slightest of mocking pitches clinging to the word. You don’t bother denying it. Instead, you push your hips up, rolling them slowly, deeply into his, drawing out a low groan from his lips, forehead falling against yours.

A smirk traces your lips. “Sensitive?”

He chuckles, hooded eyes fluttering open. The look within them, the lust, the hunger, the desire, ignites every last fiber of your being. You can’t seem to remember the last time anyone has looked at you with such intense want. And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel incredible. To be wanted. To be craved. Even if it was by a complete stranger.

You tip your chin up, easily finding his pillowy mouth and smothering it against your own. His kiss was addictive. You just could not seem to get enough of it.

All too soon, he was pulling away and you have to bite your tongue to stifle a sound of protest. His hands find the bottom of your top, toying with it for a short moment before he asks, “can I take this off?”

Abruptly, you sit up, forcing him to fall back onto his heels. “Don’t ask. Just do.” He can only watch with lust blown eyes as you peel your shirt off of your body in one swift motion, exposing your bare skin to his ravenous gaze. A deep moan rises from the depths of his chest, the sound rousing an inexplicable heat in the pit of your stomach that quickly seeps into your bloodstream and spreads through the rest of your body like an erotic poison. Teeth biting sinking into your lip, you trace a finger over the strap of your bra.

“This, too?”

“Don’t ask,” he takes in a breath so deep that you can almost feel the hot rush of oxygen filling your lungs as well, “just do.”

You intend to laugh, finding enjoyment in this little game of yours, but the sounds breaks off halfway up your throat when his hands circle around your body and you feel his fingers making quick work of the clip, the tension giving way in a matter of seconds.

“I think that’s the fastest a mans ever been able to take off my bra.” You muse with a playful quirk of your brow, allowing him to nudge the grey material down the length of your arms, before tossing it uncaringly onto the floor. “I’m impressed.”

He smiles, and you’re, once again, immediately floored by its beauty. “I’m glad I could leave an impression.”

Please, feel free to leave me with more than just an impression.

Somehow, you manage to bite your tongue and keep the words locked in your mind, quickly deciding that undoing his belt is a task far more deserving of your attention. It’s impossible to miss the bulge straining against the tight confines of his jeans, but you get the sense that he’s unashamed. You don’t mind. Besides, what’s shame between a couple of heartbroken strangers?

“Fuck.” He huffs out the curse, mouth falling open as your curious fingers caress over his arousal through the tight, black fabric of his boxers. You can feel the heat of him, the impressive hardness giving away his unspoken need. “No, no… let me take of you first.” He murmurs, gently brushing your wandering hands away from his clothed length. “Lay back for me?”

Christ. You happily fall back into the plush white pillows, legs spreading around the shape of his body. Desire coils in your belly in tight, hot tendrils as his hands slide up the length of your legging clad thighs, skin burning fiercely in their wake. His lips press slow kisses to the skin of your hip while his fingers gently peel the article off of your body, leaving you almost completely bare aside from a pair of thin black underwear. It’s a sight he eagerly drinks in.

“Please.” You plead pathetically, a need unlike anything you’d ever experienced pulsing like liquid ecstasy through your veins. His gaze pierces you, pupils blown as his lips graze over your clothed heat. There’s no need to elaborate, he knows what you want, knows like he can read the desire on your face. It’s static shock when he slips a finger beneath the undergarment, grazing your slick lips in the process of shifting it to the side. It’s pure electricity when he dips down and slips his tongue over your core, all the way up to circle your sensative clit. Your hips jerk up, but he presses them back down into the mattress with steady hands.

“You taste so sweet…” he breathes, hot, praising words caressing your burning skin and igniting an angry flame in the pit of your stomach. A low whine rumbles in the back of your throat, eyes fluttering in bliss as he teases your slick opening with warm, pillowy lips. Fingers slipping through his thick black locks, you weakly tug him closer, a familiar ache swelling in the pit of your stomach.

“Tell me what feels good.” You can only nod dumbly at his muffled request, the vibration of his voice directly against your wet core having a mildly dizzying effect. Pleasure spills into your veins at the same time he takes you by surprise, a single finger pressing inside of you. An airy ‘oh god’ flutters off your lips, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy him, so he presses, “good?”

“Yes. Yes, so good. So good.” You manage to choke out as he tugs at one of your legs, positioning it over his shoulder. He’s looking up at you now, starry eyes taking on a dangerous, lustful glow beneath the silver moonlight. It’s the kind of look that makes your stomach twist and your pussy throb.

Oh god. Who is this man? To make you feel this kind of pleasure… it’s the kind of pleasure no one has ever managed to make you feel before. It’s the kind of pleasure that licks at every cell of your being, rippling through you in slow, heavy waves. Your toes curl, your back bows. Your muscles shudder. It’s hot and it’s everywhere, invading every inch of you like a slow poison seeping through your bloodstream, infecting you down to your very core.

Doh Kyungsoo. You don’t know much about him. Only his name and that his heart is in a similar state as your own. But it doesn’t seem to matter.

Or, rather— that’s all that seems to matter.

Perhaps you sensed it, sensed his pain, his broken heart. And when you looked into those beautiful starry eyes, you had seen suffering that mirrored your own. It drew you to him, and him to you. You’d come to a mutual agreement in that moment. What was the use in suffering alone? Might as well share your pain with another. Maybe it would ease the hurt, or maybe it would just make it all the worse. Whichever came to be, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. Not right now, at least. Not with the way that his lethal tongue was lapping at your heat in slow, deep strokes. Not with the way he was thrusting his fingers inside of you, curling, caressing, exploring.

It was too good to be concerned with anything else, future and past alike. Even your broken heart had become an afterthought under his bliss inducing ministrations.

“Oh god—” a shuttering curse flew from your chest, heel pressing into his shoulder blade. He had wrapped his lips around your clit, flicking his tongue over it expertly and at the same time, his fingers had found that perfect little spot inside of you that sent white hot electricity crackling through your veins.

Then, the coil snapped. Specks of white invade your vision, and for a moment you believe you are seeing stars. Or perhaps it’s his eyes, but you can’t really tell which direction you’re looking in, the incredible pleasure of the high he had just thrust you into entirely too dizzying and disorienting to decipher up from down or left from right. A choked moan followed by a broken whine escapes your gaping lips. Your hips jump off the mattress, refusing to be restrained any longer as they grind themselves desperately against his heavenly mouth. He doesn’t object, only moaning deeply as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

“Holy fuck…” you pant, chest heaving. He chuckles, climbing up and attaching his lips to yours. You taste yourself, the bitter sweetness hitting your tastebuds with a delicate swipe of his tongue against yours.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he hums into the kiss, gentle thumb drawing slow circles against the skin of your hip, “got me so hard...”

“Yeah?” You ask, voice airy. He nods, sinking his teeth into your lower lip. “Let me feel.”

You feel him smile into the kiss. Then his hand finds your wrist, guiding it slowly down the length of his body, until your fingertips are feathering over the strained fabric of his boxers. He’s hard. So hard. You can almost feel him throbbing. Any haziness lingering from your previous orgasm is immediately vanquished by the thought, wicked desire flooding your senses. He’s breathing hard against your throat, gripping tightly at the flesh of your thighs. He shudders violently when you find his tip, tracing it experimentally. The sound he produces in response is enough to have you clenching around nothing.

“Do you have a condom?”

His head snaps up, wide eyes meeting your hooded ones. He has to swallow a groan once he sees the expression on your face, the lust burning in your gaze. Nodding, he slips a hand into the pocket of his half off jeans and tugs out a small, square foil. You can’t help the mild amusement that curls the corners of your lips, the irony not lost on you. He huffs at you, “I like to be prepared.”

“I bet.” You croon, voice pitching playfully.

He grinds his hips into yours in retaliation. Still sensitive, you jolt beneath him with a quiet moan, a reaction that coaxed a mildly taunting smirk onto his glistening lips. Fixing him a glare lacking any genuine malice, you hook your fingers into the loops of his jeans and tug.

“Shut up and get naked.”

Laughter bubbles at his lips, and you can’t help the way your heart trembles in your chest at the sight of his scrunched nose. The sound of it warms you up from the inside out, and you smile. He’s beautiful when he laughs.

“Yes, ma’am,” he giggles, sitting up to kick his jeans onto the floor, followed suit by his boxers. Somehow, he’s even more beautiful completely bare, his honeyed skin and lean muscle on full display for your feasting eyes. Your tongue licks at the inside of your teeth, longing to steal a taste of him. But you refrain, barely, and only in favor of pressing the heels of your palms into his shoulders and flipping him onto his back. The swift change in position draws a surprised gasp from his lips, but he makes no complaint as you swing a leg over his hip and settle yourself on top of his thighs.

Plucking the condom from his hold, you shoot him a light smirk. “Let me help you with that.” His brows raise, pink tongue peeking out to drag over the corner of his mouth.

“Yes ma’am.” His voice, having dropped an entire octave, makes your skin prickle with goosebumps, arousal swirling to life in your stomach. Carefully, you tear open the wrapping and slip the rubber over his length. He visibly shudders at the contact, eyes fluttering when you not so accidentally allow your fingers to feather over his hot skin on the way down. Shifting forward, you position yourself above him, one had falling onto the mattress beside his head while the other teases your entrance with his tip. You want him inside of you, want to feel him stretch you out, want to feel him throbbing and hear those gorgeous sounds that you’ve already found yourself addicted to. And you don’t deny yourself of that desire, sinking down onto him in one swift motion.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and you’re not completely certain if it was you or him or both. But you know it’s him that lets out the first real sound, a groan, low and smooth in your ears. The sound is trailed by a shaky curse, a breath of your name, and the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your hips, though, he makes no attempt to get you to move. After all, you have, what feels like, all the time in the world. There’s no need to rush things. He knows that.

For a handful of moments, you remain still, adjusting to him, to the blissful stretch. You can’t remember the last time anyone has filled you so well, so wholly.

Inhaling deeply, you push yourself into an upright position, palms flattening over the gentle swells of his chest to balance yourself on. When you finally move, it’s at a slow, deliberate pace. Controlled downward thrusts of your hips that have him filling you to that perfect depth over and over again. Heat consumes you, your skin trembling and perspiring within its grasp.

He’s holding you so tight, looking up at you with those starry eyes. Those beautiful starry eyes that have somehow both completely undone you, and made you complete again. In the span of only a few hours nonetheless. It’s baffling. He’s baffling. How can a man like him exist? How could anyone have let him go? Then again… he’s still a stranger. But he’s a beautiful stranger with the kind of gaze that reaches past your skin and bone and straight onto your core. It feels like he sees you, knows you, understands you. And oh god, after so long— it feels good to be seen.

You moan breathlessly, head tipping back as your hips roll hungrily over his. Below you, Kyungsoo is fighting to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a single moment. But the pleasure is overwhelming, hot in his veins, boiling in his blood. He was losing himself, but in the best way imaginable. In you, to you, for you. Slowly, yet all at once. It’s like drowning: filling his lungs, pouring into every empty crevice of his body. It was consuming him— and he was loving it.

Searing fingertips dance over your body, up your stomach, over your breasts, across your collarbone. Your skin burns and shudders in their wake, the sensation so distracting you don’t notice one of his hands coiling around the back of your neck until you’re being tugged downward, swollen lips colliding with his. You moan in surprise before melting into him, gentle hands raising to cup his burning cheeks.

“You feel—” he gasps against your mouth, “so good.”

His hips snap up, causing your back to arch deeply, chest pressing tightly to his. You can feel the racing of his heart, the astonishing heat of his skin. You swear he’s going to burn right through you.

Not that you’d really mind.

“Kyungsoo.” You pant, hands dragging down the length of his neck to grip at his steady shoulders.

He tips his head forward, bleary, hooded eyes fixing on yours. “Yeah?”

“Fuck me.”

There’s a pause. And then you’re on your back, splayed out beneath his body, and he’s fucking himself into you like his life depends on it. An uncontrollable cry is wretched from your throat, arms flinging themselves around his neck as he lifts your hips off the mattress. Like this, he can go even deeper, fuck you even better, make you come even faster. He knows what you need, and he knows exactly how to give it to you.

Ecstasy rips through you when his fingers reach between your bodies, finding your swollen clit with astonishing ease. Your legs raise, ankles locking around his back, urging him closer, urging him deeper. A strained groan tears free from his fluttering lips, his eyes squeezing shut as you clench around him. In response, he rolls the heel of his palm over your clit, while simultaneously hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you that has been neglected for far too long.

It’s so much— too much. It feels like you’re on fire, and he’s pouring the gasoline. If he keeps going like this, you know you won’t last.

Then his eyes, those goddamn starry eyes, meet yours, and you feel yourself come undone.

If there was any lingering hurt, sadness, or regret— it is completely obliterated by the mind numbing intensity of your second orgasm. It hits you hard and fast; ten times more powerful than the first. Your muscles shudder, your skin burns, your mind empties. All you feel is pure, euphoric pleasure. Every cell of your being is consumed by it.

Kyungsoo doesn’t last a moment longer than you do, the second the first wave hits you, he’s spilling himself into the condom, moaning and trembling above you. You are just conscious enough to force your eyes to stay open, not wanting to miss a second of the beautiful contortions of his handsome features as he reaches what looks to be the epitome of pleasure. There’s little doubt in your mind that the image of him unraveling will haunt your dreams in nights to come. Not that you’d mind. A face like his is a pretty good face to be haunted by.

By the time his high finally recedes, his muscles are so exhausted that they quiver beneath the weight of his body. He just barely manages to hold himself up long enough to roll safely off of you, before collapsing onto the mattress at your side.

For a moment, neither of you speak. Catching your breath alone is proving difficult enough without being hindered by any pathetic attempt at formulating a coherent sentence in the aftermath of one of the most mind blowing orgasms you’ve ever had.

Your cells are still trembling in the aftershock when Kyungsoo finally speaks— or, attempts to, at the very least.

“That was— you were— wow.”

Breathless laughter bubbles at your lips and your turn just in time to see a bashful smile creep onto his.

“You were pretty wow yourself, Doh Kyungsoo.”

Doh Kyungsoo in the wake of an amazing fuck is something to behold. His bare skin glistening with sweat, cheeks and chest flushed a deep red, his thick black hair is unruly and sticking out in strange directions. He is an absolute mess, and he is beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that your breath catches in your throat at the mere sight of him, though you try your best not to make it too obvious.

With a huff, you roll onto your side and toss an arm over his stomach while the other slips beneath the small of his back, fingers interlocking on the opposite side of his body.

“I hope you don’t mind,” you hum tiredly, eyes fluttering shut, “I’m an avid believer in cuddling after sex.”

He chuckles, and you feel the warm press of his palm between your shoulder blades as he tugs you closer.

“I don’t mind,” soft, starry eyes flit over your blissed out features, “I don’t mind at all.”

In the distance, a train horn blares.

“Why’d she leave you?”

The question doesn’t seem to catch him off guard. But his hand pauses where it had begun to trace abstract designs in your skin. He blinks, purses his lips, then exhales softly from his nose and stares blankly across the room.

“She… fell in love with someone else.”

This surprises you.

“That doesn’t make sense.” You mutter, brows furrowing.

He glances down at you. “What do you mean?”

You meet his eyes. “You’re one of the good ones.”

He falters. It’s only for a moment, in which his eyes widen, lips part, cheeks flush, but you can see something flash across his face. An emotion he gives you no time to decipher before he wipes the expression away and raises a brow, one corner of his mouth turning upwards in a lazy smirk.

“And how exactly, after knowing me for all of three hours, did you come to that conclusion?” Curiosity and amusement swim in his gaze.

“Call it a sixth sense,” you grin, peering up at him, “I’m good at reading people,” you contemplate that for a moment, “sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

Your shoulders raise and you watch your fingers trace invisible words across his chest. “I thought he was the kind of man that would never betray me, never lie to me, never break my heart. I thought I knew him. But look where we are now.”

A comforting hand caresses your waist.

“What happened?”

That could be a loaded question. What happened? Everything. Nothing. Something. But you opted to give him a more straightforward answer. “I’m not sure. The only part I really saw was him railing his secretary in our bed. But it’s not so hard to make up the rest of the story in my head.”

“His… secretary?”

You chuckle. “Cliché, isn’t it?”

“Yes but…” he cuts himself off and shakes his head, but you can practically see the gears beginning to turn in his head.

“What is it?”

He hesitates, then speaks slowly, carefully, as if contemplating each work before it could come out of his mouth. “It’s just, my g— ex-girlfriend worked as a secretary for this big shot new tech company. Crazy coincidence… right?”

A shock goes through you. Big shot new tech company? You’d definitely heard those words before. But there was just no way. The chances of it were one in a million. There had to be hundreds of big shot new tech companies in your city, and thousands of secretaries that worked for them. There was no way…

“W–What’s the name of the company?” You ask, even though you’re not entirely confident that you want to know the answer.

He swallows. “Strato Tech.”

You blink once, twice, then ask,

“I don’t suppose your girlfriend has a bird tattoo on her left shoulder?”

He offers a nod. “That would be her.”

There’s another pause. And then you’re laughing. You’re laughing so hard your stomach aches and tears spring to the corners of your eyes. Kyungsoo is in a similar state, bellowing belly laughter exploding from his chest, loud and uncontrollable.

For what feels like hours (but was probably only minutes) the two of you laugh. You laugh because what are the chances? What are the chances that your fiancé and his girlfriend work at the same big shot new tech company? What are the chances that they feel a mutual attraction and begin a secret affair? What are the chances that you stumble onto the same train as her heartbroken boyfriend and fall into bed with him? What are the chances?

“This is unbelievable.” Kyungsoo pants, tossing an arm over his eyes, a cheek achingly wide smile plastered across his face.

“When’d our lives turn into a poorly written soap opera?” You scoff in disbelief.

“You tell me.” He chuckles.

Then, an idea strikes you. Mischievous excitement sparks in your eyes.

“I feel like this is an opportunity we can’t miss, Doh Kyungsoo.”

He raises a brow, intrigue curling at the corners of his lips. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”

Smirking, you sit up on your knees and reach for something on the nightstand. “All you have to do… is sit back and look pretty.”

Chanyeol sighs softly, hands sliding over his face.

He fucked up. Bad.

It’s been hours. Hours since he made the mistake of bringing the new secretary back to your shared home. Hours since he watched helplessly as you stormed out. Hours since he kicked his accomplice to the curb and desperately scrambled to right his wrong. Hours since he made one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

It’s been hours, and he can’t stop worrying.

He tried calling and texting, but you must have turned off your phone because none of them went through. He even reached out to your friends and family. None of them knew what he’d done yet, but none of them knew where you were either.

He never meant for this to happen, really. He had been stressed out and drinking, and she’d been there. Apparently, in his tipsy mind, that was enough. Enough to throw years of his wonderful relationship out the window in a matter of moments.

It was a mistake.

But it was a mistake you wouldn’t easily forgive. Not like the (many) times when he accidentally knocked glassware off the counter and it shattered. Not like the time he showed up so late to one of your dates that you’d eaten both the main course and dessert all on your own. Not like the time he kept you up late and you’d been so tired the next morning you slept through a meeting. Not like the time he got upset because you beat him at his favorite video game and ignored you for two days.

This was a mistake that no amount of desperate apologies or late night kisses could fix.

He cheated.

He cheated.

Groaning in frustration, he presses the heels of his palms against his swollen eyes. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Then his phone dings.

He all but lunges for it, and feels his heart leap into his throat at the sight of your name plastered across the top of the screen. His hands are shaking so terribly that he mistyped his password three times before finally managing to unlock it.

But the message that greets him makes any semblance of hope for your future together drop like a dead bird in his chest.

from : love of my life 💕

tell your little secretary friend that her sexy boyfriend says hi ;)

delivered 3:04 am