#this is such an old design of him but i still like how i shaded it lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wlntrsldler · 2 months

Text

how to disappear | luke castellan

warnings: betrayal, fluff, mean!luke for like five lines, extremely long, not canon, drug use and language, probably got some things wrong but it's for the plot; i sobbed writing this. (this might be my favorite piece i've ever written)

part 2: shades of cool

pairing: aphrodite!reader x luke

description: based on how to disappear by lana del rey

i. all of the guys tell me lies, but you don't. just crack another beer and pretend that you're still here.

"hey, angel," a voice startled you out of your thoughts. your feet were dangling over the pier as you stared out into the lake. you twisted your head to see luke approaching. a soft smile was on his face. "been looking for you everywhere."

"needed a breather," you said, scooting over so he could join you. "sometimes i forget how overwhelming being back here is."

he rolled his cargo pants up to his knees, letting the cool water touch his bare skin. "i get it. sometimes i wish i could take a break."

"you can, you know," you nudged his shoulder, "you're old enough to leave camp during the year. nobody would fault you for wanting to go away for a while."

he dug into his front pocket, pulling out a messily rolled joint and the pink lighter you gave him last summer. the heart you drew on the plastic with sharpie was starting to fade. he placed the joint between your eager lips and lit the end. he tried to ignore the sparks that shot up his arm when your fingertips brushed against his.

luke shrugged, "i know, but then who would take care of the kids? mr. d isn't really the model citizen."

you quirked an eyebrow, passing him the joint, "and you are?"

"better than mr. d," he let out a chuckle before taking a drag. luke closed his eyes as the smoke escaped his lips. he could taste your lipgloss. "maybe when you get your own place, i'll take some time off and visit you."

"i'm off to college soon," you said. "going to california. i got a scholarship."

"of course you did," he grinned. the weed didn't take effect yet. usually, when you smoked with luke, his brown eyes are hazed over by the effects, but while he was speaking, his eyes twinkled in pride. "didn't doubt it for a second."

"you'd leave camp and visit california for me?"

luke had a knowing smile on his face now, as if you were ridiculous for even asking that question. "'course. only problem would be that i'm broke as shit right now. being camp counselor doesn't really pay the big bucks, y'know."

you hummed. it was weird really, how camp was just a fraction of your life. your dad made sure that you could have a semi-normal life, or at least as normal as a half-blood's life could be, but not all demi-gods had the luxury, luke included. his dad made sure of it.

at first, luke despised you for it. why was it fair that you were your mom's favorite child while his dad barely cared enough to make sure he survived his failed quest? if aphrodite was his godly parent, he was sure that he wouldn't have this ugly scar on his face to remind him that he was nothing but a failure. she would stitch him up and make sure that he was okay.

this is not to say that luke liked any of the gods; he just preferred aphrodite above all of them. she gave you to the world, after all.

"what else is new?" he prodded, passing you the joint again after his third drag. "anything else exciting happen in your life since last summer?"

"nothing much," you coughed slightly. you didn't smoke unless you were at camp with luke. "just the usual senior year things, i guess. graduation, prom, you know."

"no, i don't know, actually," he laughed, "well, i know the idea of it. did you decorate your graduation cap? did your senior year live up to your expectations? did you have a date to prom?"

"yes, yes, and no." you pretended not to notice how luke's shoulders relaxed at your answer. "i did decorate my grad cap. my dad has it framed with my diploma. the design was my college's logo. i didn't have a date to prom because i didn't really like anyone at school. i would rather take a date i actually enjoyed the company of."

"that's fair," luke said. he took another hit from the joint. you watched the smoke evaporate into the air, the smell of weed surely sticking to your clothes. "tell me about your senior year."

"it was fun," you said, longing on your face. "it's weird to think that i'm kind of on my own now. after camp, i'll be shipped off across the country to take classes for some bullshit degree that i probably won't need because i won't make it long enough to see the workforce."

luke chuckled at that. it was morbid, sure, but he would be lying if he said that that reality wouldn't be a possibility. he didn't like to think about it much, the idea of you dying, but the life of a demi-god was unpredictable. he's surprised he even made it to eighteen.

you continued, "but i got to be a kid and i'm thankful for that. i just can't stop thinking about how this is my last summer here. i'm eighteen now. i've aged out."

"you can come back, you know," luke said. these summers with you were the only thing he looked forward to each year ever since you first arrived. "i'm still here."

"that's because if you step a toe out of this camp, they'll find you," you said, although you knew luke knew this already. he was powerful. he would attract monsters left and right and he'd be putting himself in jeopardy if he left. your suggestions for him to visit you were more wishful thinking than anything. in those moments, you let yourself pretend that you and luke were normal, that nobody would be trying to kill you if you tried to watch a movie at a theater or something.

"fair," he offered you the last hit, but you shook your head. you already felt your head spinning. "beth wants to go to college, too."

"does she?"

"yeah," he put out the joint on the wooden pier. neither of you spoke as the flame was extinguished with a sizzling sound. "told her to talk to you. you know more about it than i do."

"i'd love to talk to her. i think she'd do great in college."

"she would," he smiled, sadly. his eyebrows furrowed in thought. his mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to find the right way to frame his words. you sat in silence patiently. he gulped, "i feel like everyone is moving on without me."

luke propped his elbows on his knees. he looked across the lake, watching the sunset turn into a pink horizon. he couldn't look at you while he spoke. "don't get me wrong, i'm so proud of you for leaving this place. and i'll be proud of annabeth when her time comes, but i think i just hate the fact that at the end of it all, i'll be alone. everyone in my life has a life outside of this, but i don't. this is it for me. i don't know what it is about this place, about this life, that keeps me stuck here, but i am."

you weren't stupid enough to correct him. you both knew the gods had a plan for luke. it was something bigger than the both of you, though neither of you truly knew what it was; but it was always this looming dark cloud above him, a second shoe waiting to drop. luke tried to ignore the feeling most days, but sometimes, he couldn't help but feel himself get pulled into the darkness; like in these moments, when reality hits him a little harder. you probably won't be back after this summer.

"well," you placed a hand over his own. he flipped his hand over to hold yours properly. he still wasn't looking at you. "let's just make the most out of this summer, yeah? think about everything else when we get there."

he squeezed your hand, "yeah."

ii. met me down at the training yard, cuts on his face cause he fought too hard.

"castellan."

luke winced, not because of the pain of the open cuts on his face, but because of the tone of your voice. that voice meant that he was in trouble.

he mustered up the courage to smile weakly at you, trying to ignore the droplets of blood that spilled from his open wound. "hey, angel."

"don't angel me," you hissed, marching to him. you grabbed his face gently, inspecting the damage. "what were you thinking?"

"i was thinking the kid was a bitch."

"castellan."

he cringed, "sorry."

"what happened?"

"i haven't been getting much sleep," luke whispered, "nightmares are back."

you sighed, picking up a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. the apollo kid who was tending to luke earlier was smart enough to leave the room when you walked in. you muttered half-hearted apologies as he hissed in pain. "i'm sorry to hear that, but that's not the answer i was looking for."

"he was just talking shit," luke said through gritted teeth. whatever the ares kid was saying must've been really bad because you could feel luke's anger rising again. you rubbed his back slowly until he calmed down. "don't wanna talk about it."

"okay," you resigned, finally wiping away the final remnants of blood off his face. you stared at him; even with an open lip, red bruises, and flecks of blood on his face, luke was still beautiful. he plopped his forehead against your stomach, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer.

this was common with luke. he acted all big and bad around all the other campers, but in your presence, he turned into this; always looking for comfort, always touching you somehow, like he was finally allowed to breathe. you cradled the back of his neck as he let out shallow breaths, leaving feather-light kisses on his crown when you thought he wouldn't notice them. he always felt them, but he never let you know that he did. he was afraid you'd stop doing it if you found out.

"how bad are they?"

"bad," he sighed, eyes closing. he tugged on you to bring you even closer, though you didn't know how that was possible at this point. "haven't slept in days."

"why didn't you come find me?"

"your sisters don't like it when i interrupt their beauty sleep."

"why didn't you tell me sooner? i could've stayed in the hermes cabin."

"it's gross in there," he laughed. "you deserve to sleep on your soft bed in a cabin that smells like fucking roses, not on my cardboard thin cot in a room that smells like sweaty socks."

you lifted his head up to look at you, "yeah, it's pretty bad in there."

luke snorted, finally letting you go, but a hand stayed connected to your hip. he played with the loose thread on the hem of your shirt. "i still won, by the way."

you cocked your head, "huh?"

"the fight," luke's cocky smirk was back on his face. "you should see the other kid. if i'd been well-rested, he wouldn't have been able to land a blow."

you smacked his shoulder, laughing as you fell onto the bed beside him, "shut up, castellan."

"there it is," he mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. he was so close to you.

"what?"

"castellan," he mimicked your voice, but there was no mockery there. he said it like he treasured it, like he was trying to memorize the way you spoke. "you're not mad at me anymore."

it was hard to stay mad at luke. the longest you'd gotten mad at him was when he didn't choose you for his quest. he stood outside the aphrodite cabin the entire day before he was set to leave, begging for you to let him explain. you were too stubborn, too hard-headed, to listen to him. when you were sure that he was gone, you finally left the aphrodite cabin to find a letter from him tucked away under the welcome mat.

you kept the letter, but you never opened it. it wasn't until he returned from his quest, on the brink of death, that you opened it. you were sitting beside his bed, eyebags darker than ever that even your mother couldn't salvage you. your eyes were stained red from crying so much.

in his letter, he explained how he didn't want to put you in danger, how he would never forgive himself if something bad happened to you because of him. your insecurities just got the better of you. you always feared that people saw you as shallow, like you didn't actually have the skills to fend for yourself. many people had misconceptions about the aphrodite kids, but not luke. luke knew that you were incredible. you just didn't resort to violence as quickly as he did.

you felt stupid then, even now, you regret how you treated him before his quest. you hated yourself for how you acted. he never gave you a reason to doubt him, to not trust him; you should've known that he had his reasons. you hated yourself for even questioning him for a second.

luke pulled you into his chest, allowing you to cuddle into his neck. the beads of his camp necklace rested beside your temple. you reached over to play with them, letting the beads thump against his collarbone when you let go. you felt luke twirling strands of your hair around his finger, gently undoing the knots that formed at the ends of your hair because of his antics. you lay there in silence, just enjoying the presence of one another. you felt luke's breathing even out, a sign that he was drifting off.

luke's words from the pier bounced in your head then. did he think that you'd forget about him after you left camp? as if you'd forget about this, about him. a life without luke castellan became unimaginable when you met him when you were fifteen. there was no version of your life that didn't have luke in it.

it was foolish to think that way, you knew that. it was stupid to let someone have a hold on you like this, demi-god or not. even your friends from home warned you about being so attached to luke, though in the version of events you told them, the stakes were much lower. to them, he was just a boy you see at summer camp a few months out of the year; he was just another hometown boy that they urged you to forget when you moved away to college so you could live your life unrestricted.

but luke wasn't just that to you and you knew you weren't just that to him either. there was something between the two of you that was hard to explain, but didn't need an explanation at the same time. even your mom noticed it. she let you know once to tell luke to stop praying to her to give you a sign whenever he missed you.

"i can't keep making flowers bloom whenever he misses you," she wrote, "it wouldn't make much sense for flowers to bloom in the winter, my child, or for flowers to bloom every second of the day."

sometimes, though, on particularly hard days when you'd miss luke, your mom made exceptions. you'd find bunches of hibiscus growing within the cracks of the sidewalk of new york city on your way home from school.

you knew luke was thinking about you then. just the thought of it made your day better.

iii. i know he's in over his head, but i love that man, like nobody can. he moves mountains and pounds them to ground again.

luke didn't know what you'd say if you found out. well, he did know, but he deluded himself into thinking that you'd listen to his reasons, that you'd actually understand why he did what he had to do. maybe you'd even join him.

percy had left camp with annabeth and grover for his quest yesterday. the air at camp felt different since percy was revealed to be a forbidden child. luke, as much as he tried to keep his resentment for the gods at bay because percy was hard to dislike, the poor kid just wanted to save his mom, felt his blood boil when poseidon claimed percy.

he hated the gods, this wasn't new, but luke struggled to understand how he was supposed to feel. he saw so much of himself in percy. he thought of his mother; her hugs that he hadn't felt since he was nine, the taste of her burnt cookies that he hated at the time, but now he just wished he could taste the burnt crisps on his tongue one last time. he even missed her frantic mumbling in the middle of the night.

luke saw a version of himself in percy, the version that had a chance at happiness. luke hated it.

it was too late, anyway. the plan was already in motion. his allegiance to kronos was set. kronos visited him in his dreams often. luke stopped calling them nightmares because nightmares are only nightmares if they happen once in a while. what made them bad dreams was when they were compared to good ones. he didn't have those anymore.

luke hadn't slept much since he stole the bolt. it was easier to think about you, about the happy times, when he was awake. he smoked more now. it helped sometimes. he would pretend your lipgloss was still on the tip of the joint and that you were beside him on the pier, trying to get away from all the noise of camp.

as he walked toward the hermes cabin, smiling cordially at the younger campers who beamed at him, he saw the corner of a pink bag against his bed. his face dropped. luke stopped in his tracks, clutching the beads of his necklace.

you weren't facing the door. your back was turned while you folded the sheets on his bed. he saw you spray perfume on his blankets. he could almost smell the sweet fragrance from where he stood. it took all his might not to run to you and hold you in his arms. it's been months since he last saw you, since last summer. luke's hands fell to his sides before he twisted his body to turn the other way.

he went to the one place that gave him comfort. with his cargo pants rolled up to his knees, he watched the sun fade into the dark sky. there was no pretty sunset tonight. luke didn't think too much of omens, but he figured that was a bad sign. and when your soft footsteps thumped against the boards of the pier, he was certain that it was.

"you damn near running away from me when you saw me was not the reaction i was hoping for."

luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. out of habit, he moved a bit to let you take your usual spot beside him. when he opened his eyes, he was met with the face he'd thought about for months. a kind smile adorned your lips. you looked different. your skin was a deeper shade, no doubt due to the california sun; your lips were pink and torn apart, like you'd been chewing on them; but your smile was the same.

"what are you doing here?"

"sorry i was late," you said, sheepishly. you played with the small braid in your hair, "i had to move out of my dorm so i had to take a later flight."

"i thought you weren't coming back," luke replied.

"heard there's a war coming," your voice sounded small. luke knew why. he'd listened to you talk about the dreams you had for yourself for hours over the past summers. the idea of an impending war meant that those dreams would take the backseat and you'd have to fight before any of them could come true. "is it true?"

"percy, a forbidden kid, poseidon's, is trying to make sure it doesn't happen."

"do you trust him?"

luke felt his heart crumble in his chest. how cruel is he to keep you in the dark like this? when the only thing you needed to feel okay was to hear that he trusted the kid meant to stop the war?

luke's voice was hoarse, "yeah, i do. beth does too."

"okay," you placed a hand on his thigh. luke stiffened at your touch. you pulled away, embarrassed. "sorry."

"don't apologize," he placed his hand next to yours. he could feel the warmth of your skin. "i've just been on edge."

"it's just me, luke."

he didn't know how to tell you that that's exactly why he was on edge. it was you. the girl he'd been in love with since he was fifteen. the girl he told everything to. the girl who knew him so well that if you were to touch him for longer than a second, you'd know everything.

this summer, for the first time since he met you, he was glad you didn't show up to camp. he knew that the minute you were in front of him, he'd tell you everything and there was a chance you'd want nothing to do with him after it. that was something luke couldn't handle. but now you're here, looking at him like this like his actions just hurt you.

"'m sorry, angel."

"you're acting different, luke."

"'m sorry."

"i don't need an apology," you said. "i want to know why."

luke rubbed his face with his hands, "i don't know, okay?"

"you're lying to me," you were frowning now. luke was angry. he wasn't angry at you, he was angry at the whole situation, but it didn't matter. he was taking it out on you.

"gods, angel, can you just-- not right now," he groaned. you got a good look at him. his eyes were tired, shoulders slumped like he'd been carrying a weight on his shoulders with no reprieve. "i don't really feel like talking."

"you don't have to be mean about it."

he didn't feel like himself anymore. he would never talk to you like this, but there was something in him that made him snap. luke scoffed, "i'm not being mean, you're just being so pushy right now."

you blinked, pulling your hand away from his. shivers ran down your spine, "luke, what the fuck?"

"what?" he stood up. you followed suit. under the moonlight, you saw how dull his brown eyes were. they no longer carried the same glow when he looked at you. luke's eyebrows were furrowed, eyes narrowed, "i just can't handle this right now, okay? can you just drop it?"

"i'm just trying to talk to you!" you raised your voice, disbelief on your features. you walked towards him. holding his face in your hands. he was crying. you wiped away his tears. "i just missed you, okay? i just wanna talk to you because i haven't gotten to in months and i'm miserable."

he let out a shaky breath, your touch grounding him. he felt himself coming back to him. he nuzzled his cheek in your palm, kissing the flesh there as he mumbled apologies into the night.

"i missed you so much," a sob escaped your lips. luke didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you, continuing his train of apologies into your ear. you continued, "i-i thought that you'd be happy to see me because i've been counting down the days until i saw you again and i just thought that even though the world was falling apart, we'd be the same. it's always been us, you know?"

"i know."

"and then you avoid me and run away from me and i just needed to see you, luke. i needed to talk to you."

"i missed you, too," he confessed. "so much, you have no idea."

"you have a funny way of showing it," you joked through your tears.

luke laughed. it shocked him. it was like he had forgotten how to. he hiccuped, removing one hand from around you to rub the tears away from his eyes, "come on."

selfishly, he ignored the pit in his stomach. he allowed himself just one more day to have you like this. as he lay on his bed, he held you close to him. he was overwhelmed with how much you filled his senses; the smell of your perfume, the feeling of your lips ghosting on his chest as you told him nonsense stories from college, the sound of your quiet giggles when he made some stupid joke, the look on your face in the dark, staring at him.

an unfamiliar feeling took over his body, rest, he realized it was, a while into lying in the darkness with you.

"i love you, you know that, right?"

luke didn't trust his voice anymore. he pulled you closer, hoping that that was enough for now.

iv. think about those years as i whisper in your ear. i'm always going to be right here.

"i love you."

you turned your head at the sound of luke's voice. camp was in disarray. percy was badly hurt and annabeth was frantic, sobbing about how luke was behind it all. you ran away after hearing it.

you didn't want to believe it, but it was annabeth. she wouldn't say that about luke unless it was true. you knew it killed her just the same to accept it.

"what are you doing here, castellan?"

it felt like a dagger was plunged into luke's heart. he'd heard his name leave your lips in different ways over the years; jokingly, angrily, but never like this. disappointment.

"i couldn't leave without telling you," luke licked his lips, keeping his distance. he was pressing his shirt on the spot percy broke skin. he looked down at his feet, "couldn't leave without letting you know that i love you."

"why did you do it?"

"i don't know."

"okay," you walked towards him. "when did you get so comfortable with lying to me?"

"angel," he sounded broken. "please, don't do this."

"you were wrong, by the way," you said. "you're not stuck here anymore, but i don't think the place you'll end up in is any better than this."

luke was silent.

"go, luke," you whispered. "don't make it any worse than it already is."

he nodded. this was it. you watched as he disappeared into the dark.

you were too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice it then; your mind was plagued with worry, but in the gaps of the wooden pier, a single hibiscus flower bloomed under your feet.

#luke castellan #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #pjo tv show #pjo fanfic #pjo spoilers #pjo series #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfic #frances song fics #frances writes #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n

586 notes · View notes

gffa · 8 months

Text

I would like to say I've slowed down a bit on BATFAMILY fic over the last month, but that's kind of a lie because fandom has put out some absolute banger longer fics and I've been reading a lot of comics (can you believe how many comics I've been enjoying?? I have never felt so spoiled for choice!), so I still feel like I'm inhaling everything as fast as I can go and it's GREAT. It's a constant stream of crying about fictional characters in canon, crying about fictional characters in sad fic scenarios, crying about fictional characters in happy fic scenarios, and crying about fictional characters because other people care about our babies, too. Also, I have decided I no longer have a Dick Grayson Problem that you must all suffer through to get some variety in the recs, but instead I have a Dick Grayson Solution. You're all welcome. But I'll mix it up a bit just for you guys, so hopefully you find something fun to read no matter your fave and have a good time, because this fandom has been knocking it out of the park with the fic that has given me a good time, READ AND CRY WITH ME, OKAY. BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I'M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ Grounded by WingFeathers, dick & bruce & clark & wally & ma kent & pa kent & background clark/bruce & cast, 60.4k In the early days of the Justice League, Bruce is out more and more frequently on League missions, and Dick (age 13) is growing more and more restless and lonely stuck at home. His friends can't know he's Robin, and there are no superheroes Dick's age--or so he thinks, until Bruce receives a call from Barry, desperately seeking mentorship advice. Dick asks to meet the Flash's new sidekick, but Bruce refuses; a fight ensues, ending in Dick getting grounded. One week in Gotham off patrol, and then two weeks alone, far from Gotham... at a little family farm in Smallville, Kansas. And hey, if a certain Midwestern speedster sidekick just so happens to turn up, that'd be just fine. Or would it?

✦ trust in serum by deargalileo, dick & bruce & alfred & clark, 15.7k "I believe the serum is a mixture of chemicals that compels the target to be completely honest, even against their own will." "You got hit with a truth serum?" Bruce winced as Dick's voice reached a high pitch. "Really?!" "Yes, really."

✦ Storge by CKBookish, dick & bruce & alfred, 5.4k “Your dad must have his hands full with you.” Elizabeth Ribbons leaned forward and patted Dick’s shoulder, as he reached for yet another slice of cheesecake from a passing waiter’s tray. Bruce fixed his eyes on the ice sculpture that hid him from view. It suddenly seemed like the most interesting design in the world. The soft lines of the ice on the otherwise insignificant over sized swan seemed like a lead shield... Because Dick would read it easily in his expression. He wanted to be Dick’s dad. But he wasn’t.

✦ Robin Wings by JeanjacketCarf, dick & clark & bruce & cast, 3.4k Clark wakes in a panic, unsure what has jarred him from his sleep. Until he notices Robin's absence from Batman's side.

✦ Hey! He Attempted a Coup! by PandasandDucks13, dick & bruce & clark & justice league & cast, 6.8k wip What if Dick Grayson was a Kryptonian?

✦ grief mosaic by newsical, dick & bruce & alfred & leslie, 1.3k Grief paints Dick’s days in muted shades of red and yellow and green. He grows to expect sleepless nights and sweat-drenched sheets. In turn, he finds late night companions in Alfred, with his old movies and stories, and Bruce, who wears the colors of his own grief to prevent its spread to others. Dr. Thompkins writes a letter to Bruce diagnosing Dick with PTSD.

✦ before this ends by emavee, dick & bruce, 2.5k Mr. Wayne would definitely be angry if he knew what Dick was planning, but it’s not as if Dick is going to be here long anyway. Might as well take the opportunity to fly one last time, while he still has the chance.

✦ A Light at the End of the Tunnel by dizarys, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.6k Maybe the parenting and grieving books he skimmed the highlights from last week–and Alfred–were right. Why else would Dick have approached their newest case with such ferocity and determination? At first, Bruce chalked it up to empathy. Seeing another child crying after his parents were murdered was something Batman and Robin could relate to.

✦ Last Night of Sadness by gothamshero (emhyr), dick & bruce & slade & william cobb, 6.1k Dick Grayson has to take liberties when he’s a civilian, but he still knows when he’s being followed.

✦ Starlings in Winter by FromStarstuff, dick & bruce & clark & cast, 18k wip When Dick was eleven years old he ran away from Gotham. No one could quite figure out why. Take your pick; there was a fight at school, a circus in town, and a song he can’t remember the melody of. Eleven-year-old Dick Grayson was flooded with grief, swimming in it, perpetually drowning. One day it was too much.

✦ What Defines A Father by Browniesarethebest, dick & bruce & justice league & cast, 7.7k wip Batman hasn't known the newly formed Justice League long enough to trust them, but he's willing to put everything on the line when the one thing he cares for most is taken somewhere he can't easily follow.

✦ Stolen Son by springfox (dallystrings), dick & bruce & cast, 8.6k Bruce’s heartbeat sped up, but he leveled his breathing to remain clear headed. After another thirty seconds he abandoned the cart and walked briskly through the store, searching every row in a growing panic. “Dick?” he called, “Dick, can you hear me? Where are you, chum?”

BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ Learning Experience by strikeyourcolors, dick & bruce, 2.3k "Does it ever get easier?" Dick asks. Bruce isn't technically old enough to be his father biologically, but those deep blue eyes are looking at him as a child beseeching a parent. "Some nights I feel like I can't do this anymore, Bruce. I can't be Nightwing."

✦ Rainbow Puppies by zombiesbecrazy, dick & bruce, 2.4k Bruce really wanted to hate Pamela Isley right now, but all that he could focus on was how much he admired the way she passionately fought for her beliefs and how he could applaud her application of her educational background into practical endeavors to her cause, however misguided. Being hit with one of Ivy's toxins has Bruce babbling like a fool.

✦ the business of the very few by dustorange, dick & bruce, 4.2k “I was trying,” Bruce says, “to respect your privacy.”

✦ notches in the door frame by dizarys, dick & bruce, 2.1k Bruce hadn't been prepared for his days or nights to feel so empty. And he wasn't sure how to interact with the young man before him now. Because Robin didn't need Batman anymore. --- A patrol gone wrong forces Bruce and Dick to finally talk about Robin becoming Nightwing and feelings they'd been avoiding.

✦ No Comfort in the Shade by mx_chrx99, dick & bruce, 3.4k Dick Grayson is having a hard time and Bruce is there to help.

✦ The Long Distance by takadainmate, dick & bruce, 1.2k Down here they're not Batman and Nightwing. They’re Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson. But they still fight.

BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ tender will fall by dizarys, dick & bruce & donna & jason & cast, 3.5k When the Titans are devastated in an attack, they go to Batman in a last ditch effort to rescue one of their own.

✦ the hardest part by emavee, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass, no powers au, 5.8k Dick is dreading his eighteenth birthday and everything that it means for him as a foster kid. His time with his family is running out, and he needs to be prepared for what comes next, to be on his own again.

✦ 5 Times Dick Grayson Was Grateful for His Insomnia + 1 Time He Wasn't by avengemyheart, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & alfred & wally, 5.7k Dick can't sleep, but that's a good thing. He finds himself helping the people he cares about late at night throughout the years. Eventually though, everyone realizes just how intense his insomnia can get. Or: A 5 +1 thing about Dick's insomnia.

✦ A Darker Shade of Gotham by JackHawksmoor, dick & bruce & tim & alfred, 8.3k wip Dick and Tim are stuck in a crappy alternate universe where most of the heroes they know are dead, Bruce Wayne's bad health meant he never became Batman, and Tony Zucco runs Gotham City's underworld. When Dick is shot by the mob, they take a risk and go to Bruce for help. Alternate Bruce didn't have children, but as he gets to know Dick and Tim, he starts wishing he did.

✦ leave as though fire burns under your feet by perissologist, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cast, read the tags, 33k That glow is gone, now. Gone from Dick’s skin, gone from inside him. It used to shine out of him, out of all the cracks the world put in him. But now Bruce looks down at him, and he is as dark and cold as a snuffed star. That’s what gets to him the most—not how cold the morgue is under its colorless fluorescent lighting, or the cloying smell of formaldehyde that clogs his throat. It’s how still Dick is, on the cold, sterile surface of the examiner’s table. It’s unnatural. The boy never learned how to sit still.

✦ papers say it's doomsday by dottie_dc (dottie_wan_kenobi), dick & bruce & donna & cast, 2.5k Half-laughing at his own joke, Nightwing starts to say, “He just doesn’t—” In the space of one word, one breath, and the next—the world ends.

✦ Ibn al Xu'ffasch by hellsreluctantheir, dick & bruce & damian & jason & cast, 16.2k Batman when they’d thought Bruce was dead was one kettle of fish. Batman when the original Batman was around was another. In his head, Robin—perched on a gargoyle next to him—tutted like an eighty-year-old, and rolled his eyes like the kid he was.

BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY'RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ our aspirations are wrapped up in books by theragingstorm, damian & barbara & cast, 1.8k Damian's been confined to bed rest. Someone unexpected helps him.

✦ remind me why I'm here again? by dizarys, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & bernard(/tim), 3.5k Jason's at a Wayne gala. He doesn't want to be. Good thing his siblings are there too. "Were we mean?" Dick mused, "Or just being big brothers?" "He's holding your hoodie hostage." "You're right. We went too easy on him."

✦ put away childish things by bittlebarnes (monroesherlock), dick & damian & clark & jon & barbara & ma kent, 7.2k "I was sent here as a punishment, surely," Damian deadpans. "Are you feeling punished?" Martha sounds like she’s laughing at him. Unacceptable. "Absolutely."

✦ a hero by hellsreluctantheir, bruce & dick & jason, 15.5k Dick Grayson died in Amusement Mile. Four years later, Jason Todd is Robin. But he's not dressed in the costume when he hears about a new player in Crime Alley; a man in a red helmet.

✦ Improvise A Symphony by cabezas_de_vaca, bruce & dick & alfred & cast, 5.5k Or: three generations of Wayne and Wayne-adjucacent men do their absolute best.

✦ The Second Stage by nightwalker, tim & jason & bruce & dick & damian, 8.2k All Tim wants is to take a shower, get something to eat, and try to wear off the effects of Ivy's stupid pollen in peace. So of course tonight is the night Jason decides to start acting like a brother.

BATFAM FIC RECS - I CUT MY TEETH ON DICK & TIM AS CLOSE BROTHERS AND NO ONE WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME: ✦ Red Letter Day by silverwhittlingknife, dick & tim & damian & cast, 41.8k wip Dick Grayson, stressed pseudo-parent to a preteen assassin, tries to solve the case of Damian’s Mysterious Wednesday. He never expected it to help him fix his relationship with Tim, too. (... Though only after everything fell apart first.)

✦ I know it's just a number but you're the eighth wonder by orphan_account, dick & tim, 1.2k Dick gets sick. Set before their lives implode on them, so Dick’s Nightwing and Tim’s still an itty bitty Robin.

✦ it's been a long time now (i'm with you) by centreoftheselights, dick & tim, 1.8k Tim has been noticing some strange things about his life. He isn't the only one.

✦ Little Do You Know by sardonic_sprite, dick & tim & ra's, 2.2k "So," Tim said quietly. "You're here to break me out I guess." "Yes," came out in a choked sob. "Then you're wasting your time."

✦ pain/release by unchosenone, dick & tim, 4k Dick goes to check on a wayward brother in the middle of yet another Gotham Toxin (TM), and Tim has a bad time.

✦ I'd Fly Far Away From Here by Sohotthateveryonedied, dick & tim & jack, 3.5k Tim stacks his fries onto his burger patty in a crosshatch, covering every spare inch in a layer of salty potato and grease. “It all happened kind of fast. Dad and I got into this huge fight, and it’s not very dignified to go back upstairs for my wallet and then storm out.” Dick is quiet while he eats his sandwich, trying to figure this out. “Dick?” “I’m just—trying to think if I should call Bruce first or your dad.”

✦ A Collective End to a Harmony by 061828, dick & tim, 1.2k A drop of water falls into an ocean, a house’s wooden skeleton has its last nail screwed into place, an old book’s first page finally crumbles off, and Tim Drake turns twenty years old.

✦ young numb and broken by wingedgrace, dick & tim & cast, read the tags, 1.1k His bare feet were covered in cold, damp sand, and he could barely feel them. Well, he could feel them, but they didn’t seem to be connected to his body. Or maybe it was him that wasn’t connected to his body. (or: poor Dick Grayson needs some love and a chance to catch his breath.)

✦ there's an endless road to rediscover by Zahri, dick & tim & cast, 1.2k Sometimes the only way to show that you've moved on and forgiven each other is to take a flying tackle from the ceiling. Dick and Tim know each other's demonstrations of affection. Damian doesn't.

✦ spread your wings by wingedgrace, dick & tim & cast, 2.1k “Why did you give Robin to Damian?” Dick pinched his nose. He’d started to pick up some of Batman’s habits, whether he realized it or not. “Tim, we’re not talking about this again. We’re talking about how you’re off on this… quest, to prove that Bruce is still alive. And I just want to talk. Come home.” Tim didn’t budge. “Why did you give Robin to Damian?”

BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK/BABS FOREVER AND YOU CAN SHUT IT IF YOU DISAGREE, THEY'RE ADORABLE TOGETHER: ✦ Taking Turns by mx_chrx99, dick/babs, 2.3k Tim had practically begged Dick to get a flu shot. He probably should've listened.

✦ The Summer of Her Discontent by dotfic, dick/babs, 7.8k Batgirl contends with her feelings after Dick leaves Gotham.

✦ Thirteen Hours by dotfic, dick/babs, 7.9k Set during "Knight Time," during their trip to Romania, Dick and Babs start healing some old wounds.

✦ The Night the Lights Went out in Gotham by dotfic, dick/babs & bruce & tim & jim & cast, 13.8k "When it comes to emotions, even great heroes can be idiotic."-from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon

✦ Regular People by zombiesbecrazy, dick/babs, 1.6k All sorts of people can enjoy a good sunrise over the city after a long night. Why should heroes of Gotham be any different?

✦ strawberry milkshakes by brandywine421, dick/babs & bruce, 2.8k Why is Bruce bringing Dick? It's not an emergency alert, or medical - just an alert. She should have put in her comm - if it was a simple pit stop they had safehouses, but - Batman dangles Dick's keys in her direction at the door but she's glad he didn't come through the window. She looks past him to catch Dick's attention and - something's wrong.

BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE'S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ Stay for breakfast and also forever by Ididloveyou_once, tim/kon & bruce, 2k Conner turns up in the middle of the night after a mission gone wrong. Tim learns that seeing Conner cry makes him feel like his heart has been torn out of his chest.

✦ Think Cupid, But Aim Lower by NevernightUnderRainbows, tim/kon & bruce & cassie & bart, 2.3k Or, the Batfamily will make sure Tim gets his guy, even if it entails a lot of beating around the bush, dropping hints so veiled that they can be misconstrued surprisingly easily, and basically giving the bird and his clone boy a headache in the process

✦ The Once and Future Bat by LilliputianDuckling, tim/kon & some kon/cassie & dick & roy & martha & anita & cast, 16k Tim realizes it was a mistake to clone Conner when he ends up with a baby on his hands at sixteen years old. Well, Jackie's his now. Where does he go from here?

✦ there you were by mindshelter, tim/kon & cassie & bart & martha, 19.5k wip “You know, the cool thing about me,” Tim says, voice gone quiet and petal-soft, “is that even when I didn’t care whether I lived or not, I was pretty goddamn hard to kill.” Kon sighs, eyes glued to his feet. His hand is still encircled around Tim’s arm, trailing up to the bend of his elbow.

✦ time flies by by Laroyena, tim/kon & clark & jon & lex, 6.5k Jon Kent is Superboy. Tim's gut instinct tells him that's wrong. (Timkon fix-it where reboot!Tim misses Kon like a phantom limb. And then he gets him back.)

✦ Tangled by thewhitestag, tim/kon, NSFW, 4.1k Kon doesn’t want to be that person, always waiting, wondering if the next time will be more than just two friends messing around.

✦ you put your arms around me and i'm home by merils, tim/kon, 4.5k Kon's acting a little odd after a close call. Tim ponders the potential causes.

BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT'S WHAT I'M HERE FOR: ✦ Bereft by glassofwater, dick & bruce & cast, 4.7k Laying on his back, shoulder brushing up against debris, Dick closes his eyes briefly. He doesn’t want to die, has no intention to do so tonight, but he is scared. The blood on his side pumps out of him with each thump of his heart, beating at a rate too fast for Dick to properly count. That shouldn’t be right, he shouldn’t even be awake and struggling at the moment, but the luck that hangs over Gotham is a mysterious one; it doesn’t favor anyone and yet…

✦ fun and games by prismatical, bruce & dick & jason & tim & barbara & stephanie & duke & cast, 78.6k The Joker's loose, and the Batman isn't in Gotham. The family struggles to hold itself together as everything else spins out of control.

✦ Bone Weary by TheSilencer, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & duke, 8.1k "You cannot reach out until you reach in." Dick assumed the words were metaphorical. They weren't. Or Dick Grayson is cursed, and the cure is not any better.

✦ What These Hands Have Done by WinterSky101, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred & cast, 14k Dick is mind controlled into attacking his family. Unsurprisingly, he takes the whole thing very badly.

✦ All The Small Things by Geeves, dick & bruce & damian & cast, 20.1k After Bruce's return to the Bat, Dick and Damian have to deal with just being brothers, but things are just a bit too messy to be that easy

✦ All Our Broken Parts by mx_chrx99, bruce & dick & jason & dick/babs & cast, 28.1k wip Jason will not let this happen again. He can't. But what if he's already too late?

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #barbara gordon #conner kent #dickbabs #timkon #fic recs #batman fic recs #long post

765 notes · View notes

hchano · 9 months

Text

my second contribution to the binary stars zine.

sadly the fic, WHICH IS RLY GOOD, never got posted [long story, not mine to tell ;u;] but this was a telepath!keith/blind!shiro AU. basically keith is a captured BoM, and is sent to the arena in chains to be executed by a beast, but then a blind galra is thrown in to the arena was well, with a weapon. keith is able to convince him they can work together and using his telepathic link, shiro is able to defeat the beast.

afterward, they are thrown together more often in the arena and over time keith learns shiro is actually a human who has been experimented on and altered heavily. he also ends up teaching him about galra culture and how to navigate some of the wierd shit galra go thru [since shiro is experiencing a lot of galra instincts lol].

meanwhile the BoM are working on freeing keith, but keith will not leave without shiro :')

so in this scene, we have keith tracing coordinates on shiro's back, in hopes that he will be able to use them to escape. i do hope viper posts this fic one day but if not, just know it was rly good and liek the perfect slowburn.

extras under the cut!

so as i keep saying this was a rly good fic. i had like 5 diff scenes i rly wanted to draw but i realized i was NOT going to be able to fit any of them into only 3 pages lol… that didn't stop me from TRYING more than once tho…

attempt #1, 3 pics:

this scene is them bathing [PLATONICALLY] after a round in the arena. keith is lamenting about shiro geting hurt due to keith's reckless fighitng style leaking into shiro thru the mind meld, and thinks about how shiro still moves like he has his human body too, which shiro picks up on thanks to the mind link [which is something of a habit at this point lol]. shiro is angsting about the fact he actually dosen't know the extent of what has been done to him thanks to the injury that blinded him, and after asking to see how he looked as a human, keith ends up reassuring him that he's still a cutie lol.

the page with the dialogue only is when i realized there was no way i was fitting that scene into 3 pages lol.

attempt #2:

this scene is basically near the start to the fic. keith is brought in to the arena and chained to a pylon. he hears a bunch of rly loud monster noises and pounding at the door across the arena and is like, wow i am actually fucked 8D then shiro is brought in and thrown to the ground, along with a weapon. keith watches him try to feel around for the weapon and realizes he's blind, then calls out to him. shiro immediately goes into attack mode but keith is able to convince him that they can be allies, and briefly explains he's a telepath before melding their minds so that shiro can see through his eyes, and after a bit of clumsiness they are able to beat the beast this way :D

my designs for the boys. i have unclothed versions too that show off all their markings and scars but i feel like that would get the post flagged so these will have to do lol. i did post them on twitter tho, if you wanna bother looking there. also yes, this design is rly similar to the other contribution i did for this zine, which is because i rly like the idea of keith having these specific markings LOL. this is p much my official go to glara!keith design.

just two lil chibi guys

i actually finished this with shading, but for the life of me cannot find it, so old phone pic it is. this is post-fic, after shiro joins the bom. [so uh not so shocking spoiler, they both survive and escape lol]

#myart #art backlog #myart:vld #voltron #sheith #keith #shiro #galra!keith #galra!shiro #kinda lol #telepath!keith #blind!shiro #i still love this story so damn much #i might have to go grab my zine to reread it after this lol;;;#also i actually don't think i ever posted this cos i was waiting to see if my friend felt up to posting her fic #so uhh yay 'new' art

567 notes · View notes

writersundersiege · 3 months

Text

The New Girl in Town

Race Cameron x F! Reader

Warnings; slight angst and someone missing presumed dead like John b’s dad .

Summary: All the kooks are shaking in the designer's shoes as the new girl in town moves from Malibu, California. She moves to Figure 8 with her father, who's the CEO of Surfboard Hut company, which does well selling pre-made boards and custom surfboards. All the girls want to be her friend or hate her; all the guys love her, and the adults think she's a sweet, free spirit. What may happen when the island's notorious bad boy, Rafe Cameron, can't get her out of his mind? Will she take to Rafe as he takes to her? Or will it take time to convince her there is more to him than the bad boy exterior?

The sizeable moving truck pulls up with a Land Rover and a beat-up-looking blue Jeep with a surfboard rack and multiple boards attached at the top, following in close behind. On all corners of the street, Kooks are walking their dogs, assembling, and checking the mail, all to stare at the new arrivals. Rafe is standing around shooting hoops with Kelce and Topper. Rafe hadn't paid any mind yet to all the people outside talking, too busy trying to prove the point to Topper he could still play as well as he did back in school. It is the only reason he's in the perfect place to meet, probably the most beautiful girl Rafe has ever seen.

As the vehicles come to a stop in front of the house, a girl hops out with (H/T), gorgeous tanned skin and a bright smile; as she walks to the Land Rover, she followed, stopping and talking to a man who looks exactly like her in the eyes and nose presumably her father they laugh, until a lovely looking woman; nearly captures the whole neighborhoods attention, heads turn her way with how pretty she is smiling smacking the older man on the shoulder and pulling the young carbon copy of her into her side looking at the house in front of them.

Rafe turns to Topper. “Did you know you were getting new neighborhoods? I thought the old McCaauns didn't want to sell that place since that's where they grow their stupid prize gardenias for the Charleston Garden Expo.” Topper shrugs, grabbing the basketball from Rafe's stagnant hands. “Mom said something about a meeting. Gosh, I can't even remember her name. The mom, though, said her husband owns part of a surfboard hut company with a buddy of his in California. It's called Crush Wave; it's kinda sick.” Topper pulls out his phone and pulls up their TikTok, showing you and your dad making handmade boards.

Topper pulls up a video of you making a Short Board that is blue and purple and a massive Kraken on the back that almost looks engraved in the actual wood of the board. Rafe watches as you talk and laugh, presumably at the joke your dad made behind the recording causing Topper to laugh too, but he stares at how your eyes crease, and the way you throw your head back in pure bliss.

He only looks up when he hears Kelce say with a dark look, “You're gonna have a nice view from your bedroom, Top.” As he looks up, there it is, your side bedroom window connected to the side of the house that looks right into Topper's room. Your curtain shades are open as the three boys stare up into the room, watching you, dancing around your room, organizing posters on the wall, and putting down little knickknacks and what one could only assume are memorable things from home. Your old home. Rafe watches as you open the window a little to let in a breeze, not even paying attention to the three boys ogling you through your window

In a moment, Rafe catches the lyrics of the song. You seem so consumed by you’re forgetting the whole world around you and he thinks he's heard it. Still, the only words he can catch are, “Baby, don't you see I've got everything you need?” and that line sticks with him, a plan forming in his head and a smirk on his face cause Rafe knows he's going to make you want, need, maybe even crave him but that is for later.

Suddenly, the boys are broken from their sudden stupor and infatuation, by a woman's voice. “Hey boys!” your mother smiled back at them, looking just like you in maybe five years; she doesn't look even that much older than you, which makes Rafes smirk deeper, knowing you are running in a solid gene pool. “My name is Andrea, but call me Andy, and that man over there struggling to carry his toolbox kit is my dear, sweet husband Charles.” The man struggling under the weight of a metal box called out “Charlie,” she laughed, shaking her head. “And our daughter.” she points to where you're now loudly singing a one direction song that has the boys laughing and blushing as you act like you have a microphone that is hanging in your hand and disappearing into what they assume is your closet.

“Her name is (F/N). She's 19 and just had a birthday a few weeks ago. She's our baby; her brother is 23 and at Princeton.” She smiles, watching you dancing and singing Fools Gold so loud you could’ve woke a sleeping giant; she turns to see all the boys entranced by you. She looks down and chuckles, “Would you boys mind helping us? We need help getting the dresser upstairs to that room.” The boys snap their eyes back to your mother and shake their heads while hurriedly rushing through the large white picket fence in front of your house.

As they walk in, they see a fantastic amount of items from all over the world, Maps of almost all countries all over the globe. Significant framed photos of you and your family in front of Buckingham Palace, You in front of the Eiffel Tower posing with a massive smile on your face, a tall boy who looks like you, his arm around your shoulder smiling just the same, Your family in traditional silks and gorgeous materials smiling with a beautiful woman and man she had ornate henna all down her arms and legs. Another photo with your arms over your head, standing on a waterfall, looking like an angel with the water creating a rainbow around you.

All over, there were little statues, maps, books, ship blueprints, rugs, and throws from all different kinds of cultures as the boys walked past the dining room that saw a Chabudai table set up with gorgeous adorned pillows and a large china cabinet full of different types cutlery and ornamental chinas. Rafe squints his eyes, looking at a large framed map that looks super old and says Amazonian on the bottom with more notes. Topper pipes up from one side of the large hall, picking up what looks to be a golden skull from a box. “Um, sorry, Andy, what kind of work are you into?” he says, holding the figure up and wincing as he twists it to look at it.

Andy chuckles, walking back towards the boys, grabbing the skull from him and placing it on the large bookshelf in the hallway. “I'm a history professor, and I just transferred to St. John’s Academy for boys. Do any of you go there?” she asks quizzically; all that boys can think to do is shake their heads. Suddenly, they watch the fumbling and tumbling of your dad with four boxes that cover his frame entirely. “Hey honey, I don't think (F/N)’s couch is gonna fit in that new room cause of how it used to be lofted; now it's a single floor plan, and the ceilings—oh hello.”

The boys grabbed the remaining boxes to reveal your dad's smiling face, staring back at them as he said, “And you are.” Rafe, Topper, and Kelce introduce themselves hurriedly as they set the boxes down and line up to shake your dad's hand, which they do. “Seems like their nice boys with gentlemanly manners out here in the outer banks will be a nice change for our little songbird up there…” but before your Dad can continue, your mother rounds behind the boys pushing through the kitchen saying, “Anyways, he babbles the dresser is in the garage” pushing the three through she opens the double doors to the garage so the three boys can easily fit.

They each take a side and quickly lift it up and through the house up the stairs down the hall to the first set of French doors; your mother knocks when, all of a sudden, the muffled sound of music becomes the center stage, and the bursting smell of ocean water, sandalwood, and coconut hits them in the face. Finally, when their senses returned to them, you were standing there holding the handles of the doors and the sun's yellow glow behind you and a grin from ear to ear.

Then, like a bunch of doves were let off into flight, in a soft, airy voice came your words, “Hello boys, it's mighty kind of you to help me bring my new casa into a retrograde” You laughed a small laugh that had them buckle slightly under the pressures of the weight of your dresser you pointed to the wall opposite the window they were all staring through earlier and said, “Right there would be just fine.”

At this point, Rafe looks around to see where your mother is, and it seems like she is nowhere near at all; this gives him more confidence not to make a fool of trying to talk to you. He has this weird pull for you, and he needs to know why. So far, your family may be the most remarkable group to have moved into OBX since any past gossip and any that will come, but he wants to know you.

After they place the dresser in a specific spot against a wall between the borders, you've created with tons of pictures of you and girls and guys your age, you and your brother surfing, you on a boy's shoulders messing up his curls as you look down on him laughing. He’s laughing up at you, holding you tight, more of you at almost every natural monument you can think of, like the catacombs, Everest, Mushroom forest, and more.

One picture catches Rafe's eye again; it's the curly-haired boy and you with white shirts and what looks to be yellow stripes on your shoulders; he turns to ask, “Were you a deckhand on a yacht?” you look up from the box you were going through crisscrossed on your bed and smile widely with a hint of devilishness behind your eyes. “Not just a deckhand, the lead deckhand, and that was my second 2nd; his name is Luca; we grew up together.” Rafe shakes his head slowly, looking over the boy and then at you. “Luca still around these days?” Topper and Kelce eye you both suspiciously while they are meandering, pretending to look at bookshelves and shells and things from your past on the walls.

Suddenly, the mood becomes grim, and you look down, hand coming up and thumbs running over a small ring attached to a shell necklace. “He's been presumed dead for nearly a year; he and his brother Cameron went deep sea fishing somewhere out here, actually on the coast, and they know their ship went down almost 400 km from shore. They are still gone. Nothing has been found besides this ring and a note in the black box of the boat Cameron got just in case cause—” you suddenly cut off.

You got up, holding a picture of once again the curly-haired boy. Still, he looked to be no more than 12 on one knee, and the girl standing in front of Rafe but so much younger, even brighter than he'd already seen, if that even seemed possible, with a ring pop slid on her ring finger she was no more than ten years old smiling ear to ear.

You look up with a sad smile. “The note said I told you I would get you a real ring one day, but if for some reason I am not there to give it to you, I'll be shining next to the north star, waiting for you to shine back, you know what I mean” she smiles sadly “I'm so sorry I —” You start to laugh “Rafe. Stop that.” Both of the other boys keep watching, stunned. “Luca always said that the only way we can survive as humans is by letting the world ride around us like a wave and holding fast to it, so that's what I do every day, see?” she shoved her wrist into Rafe's hand, which gently wraps his fingers around it to lift to his face to see and caligraphy type wave with a small sailboat and the words “Hold Fast” underneath he smiles and rubs his thumb over the small tattooed skin which send chills down your body

He smiles and says, “Brave the storm like the stories, huh?” Her face immediately lights up. He doesn't know a ton of history but Wheezies been obsessed with that new Percy Jackson show and watched an episode or a few with her and has learned some stuff.

You turn to wrap your hand through his interlocking fingers and drag him to your bed while you pull a big leather-bound sketchbook from under your bed. You flip a few pages to a beautiful pencil sketch of a gorgeous-looking woman holding a baby close to her face with tears trailing down to land on the baby's blanket. It's so detailed she drew and shaded the mother's tear stains on the blankets. At the very bottom, in scripture-style lettering, was “Hold Fast Perseus, Brave the storm.” you can see the swirling raging seas and the baby floating in the basket slowly and sleepily over the raging waves in the back.

He looked up to see that Topper and Kelce had slowly slipped out of the room and down back to Top’s yard and were sending him thumbs up from below in the window they were all just looking through, laughing and hitting each other as they went in Topper's back door.

He clears his throat, realizing you're still staring at him wide-eyed. He swears he can see the whole world through your eyes when finally words don't fail him saying, “This may be the prettiest thing I've ever seen,” not even breaking a moment of eye contact to reference the picture just looking at you. “ you're kind Rafe” you giggle nudging him with your shoulder when you both hear a slight knock and look up to see your brother Jason standing the hall you run and jump in his arms as he laughs and spins you around “Hey kiddo came here for the weekend to check out the place and get all moved in” he points to Rafe “already got a boyfriend I thought you said you were gonna leave the whole California surfer guy thing in the past.”

She throws her head back, laughing, and pushes his shoulder. “Jaz stops. That's Rafe. He's from OBX. He was helping Mom and just got caught up in my blabber fest.” Rafe stands to shake your brother's hand and, shaking his head, adds, “I enjoyed hearing what you were saying. I kinda like learning more history.” now he's lying through his teeth, but it makes you smile, so he smirks back. He doesn't understand why your family is compelling him to be so gentlemanly, but for a moment, he has to catch the smirk he feels from thinking of introducing himself to your brother as his future brother-in-law but thinks better of it.

After the introduction, he turns to you and says, “If you ever need to find me, I live at Tannyhill. It's not hard to miss. Just ask for me, and I'll be there.” he smiles. “ I hope to see you. Around.” You smile at him shyly, looking down and saying, “Me too,” and then you jump on your brother's back, saying, “Onward boah, we've got places to see.” he smiles and shakes his head but continues as Rafe slowly makes his way out of your house and down the steps.

He stands in your yard, watching you and your brother hop in your blue Jeep. It rumbles to life as the music blasts through your speakers so loud everyone in the whole neighborhood can hear the words from Cold Cold Cold by Cage the Elephant from your car as you jump out the top, yelling to your parents as Jason speeds off, saying “Catching some waves be home by the set love ya” you laugh throwing your head back again capturing Rafe with your whole aura.

He stands there watching you disappear, with loud music, a bubbly laugh, and a bright smile in tow with you. Kelcle and Topper walk up behind him, and Topper pats him on the shoulder. “She’ll be the death of you, that's for sure.” Rafe shrugs his hand off and stomps back to the pavement in Topper's yard and says, “Ball-in Top, let go.” Topper and Kelce laugh, shaking their heads, knowing he's already down bad as Rafe is simultaneously thinking about inviting your good Ol’ Pops and Brother to the country club for some golf and town talk to show them the outer banks; he has an excellent feeling about the new girl in town with a devilish smirk and pep in his step he starts to think.

Hey all this is my first writing I've done please let me know if you like and want more of this or something else in open to all suggestions thank you for reading this it means a lot 💕

if you would like to keep on reading:

The New Girl in Town - Masterlist

All rights belong to the owners of Netflix and the Outer Banks. I do not own any characters except the family. The fiction is simply for fun. All copyrights belong to the original owners.

184 notes · View notes

theonemeathead · 2 months

Text

Sniper x Reader, "Quick Trip"

a sniper x reader smutfic! tw for afab anatomy, the implications of the word 'sheila'. enjoy!

August. One of the hottest months of the year, not to mention it was the hottest day in New Mexico yet. A ceasefire had been called until further notice, the temperature being down right deadly. There was no shade for miles, within the border of the Badlands.

Which just so happened to be where you lived. Your residence, currently, was Teufort's RED base. You had been on base for a couple of years now, you got along with everyone well enough; Some more than others.

Which leads you to the current situation.

You see, Sniper was about to leave on a joint-contract with Scout; Somewhere not nearly as blazing hot. And he was going to be gone for almost two weeks. Clearly, this didn't bode well with you as you stood, with crossed arms, in front of him. You had been begging him all day to let you tag along, but he refused, insistently.

"Mundy, this isn't fair! The AC in the base is broken, you gotta—!"

"I said no, sheila," he cut you off, his tone stern. Of course, you didn't take well to being talked over, especially by your boyfriend. You furrowed your brow, opening your mouth to speak, when you were interrupted, yet again.

"Sick! Ya coming with us?" Ah, Scout. His Boston accent never failed to amuse you, especially with the mischievous glint in his eyes whenever he spoke. He smiled wide, hopeful that you could maybe make the car ride a little less dull. Sniper usually wasn't one for small talk, you were lucky if you could even get a head nod out of him.

"No." "Yes!"

You and Sniper said in unison, he shot you a nasty side eye from behind his aviators. You never understood how Sniper was able to take the heat so easily. He was still wearing his full uniform, boots and all. You had half a mind not to strip naked with how unbearable the temperature was. However, still somewhat sane, decided against that and listened to your better judgement for once.

"Aw, c'mon, Snipes, let 'em tag along! At least they talk," Scout tried to reason, taking your side. Sniper sighed dramatically, grumbling something you couldn't quite understand. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at you.

"You're both insufferable. Get in." Your eyes lit up immediately. You had gotten your way, per usual. You clambered into the vehicle, sitting directly in the middle between the other two mercenaries. The black leather seats had definitely seen their fair share of wear and tear, various holes burned from dropped cigarettes, some exposed, yellow foam from the peeling material... But Sniper loved his van. In between your legs was the comically long stick-shift. The handle was slightly chipped away and the design faded from being used so often. Sniper refused to drive anything but manual, because it's 'the right way' he said. With a loud sigh, Sniper had pulled himself in on the driver's side, buckling his seat belt in one swift motion. He clicked the key forward in the ignition, the camper sputtering to life. It was definitely old and in desperate need of repair. The bushman reached forward for the gearshift, his rough hands accidentally brushing the top of your knee as he put the car into 1st gear. Normally, gestures such as this didn't get to you. But, something felt off about it this time.

The first 10 minutes of the car ride turned out to be a bust. Sniper was too focused on the road and Scout was knocked out, cold. The only sound was the distant crackling of the radio and the soft snores from your teammate. You had one exciting moment when Sniper went to shift to 3rd, his hand grazing your leg yet again. You shot him a quick glance, unsure if it was on purpose on not. Sniper wasn't one to tease. You leaned forward with a sigh, slightly turning the dial on the radio to the right. It was set on a classic rock station currently playing a song by Men At Work. You didn't know much about the band, besides the fact Sniper really liked them.

"I love this song." Sniper's gruff voice had come out slightly whispery. You squirmed a little in your seat. Did he always have this affect on you? His Aussie accent had rang through you ears. It was such a simple string of words, but coupled with the fleeting touches, it was... different. About an hour and a half into the car ride, Sniper made the executive decision to stop at a gas station a couple miles up the road. With Scout still asleep, Sniper pulled up to the pump, slamming the breaks to scare the sleeping Bostonion awake. With an abrupt 'oof', Scout was up and ready to fight immediately.

"What—! What is it?! What happened, are we dead??" He yelped, looking around frantically. Scout paused, huffing when he saw that you were all just in park. "You guys are freakin' assholes, I'm gonna go take a leak."

With the 3 of you filing out of Sniper's front seat, you watched as Scout stretched and walked towards the gas station itself. Behind you, Sniper had already unscrewed the gas cap, removing the nozzle and forcing it into the tank. With a simple 'click', diesel fluid immediately began pouring out. Sniper stared at it for a second before abruptly pulling on the handle of the side door of the van, exposing the inside to you. Confused, you looked up at him.

"I told ya I didn't want you coming on this trip, roo." His tone was dark, almost sadistic. Your brows pinned up, a bit of fear beginning to creep through your system. Sniper never took a tone with you. He turned to you, his eyes hidden behind his yellow-tinted aviators. You swallowed thickly, afraid of what was next. "Come here."

You obeyed, stepping closer to him timidly. Immediately, you were manhandled, almost thrown into the back of his camper van. You stared in surprise, yelping as he slammed the door closed behind the both of you. You didn't have time to react before he was on you, his mouth meeting yours. The kiss wasn't pretty or experienced as his teeth clacked against yours, his lips bruising and hungry. He must've been pent up, watching you flaunt yourself around in that low-cut tanktop and those too-short shorts. Just as fast as he had started, he had pulled away. The marksman looked you up and down, as if you were nothing but prey.

"This is the entire reason I didnt want'cha to come, darl'. Just can't keep my bloody hands off ya."

A flash of red was all you saw before you were flipped onto your stomach, Sniper using his long limbs to entangle your arms behind your back. He had you like a wrangled animal, trapped and helpless. He grunted quietly, cursing under his breath as he kept you pinned with one arm. He used his one free hand and made quick work of your bottoms, sliding them, along with your underwear, down to rest just below your ass. You jolted at the feeling of his caloused hand immediately delving into your folds, as if to relax you. A low whimper left your throat, the feeling of his long, thick fingers tracing themselves inside of you, curling to hit the right spot.

You didn't have much time, however, and Sniper knew this. He retracted his fingers, sucking whatever juices was on them off. The clinking of a belt, along with shuffling fabric excited you further. Although you couldn't look back, you could feel him start to guide his long length towards your aching hole. He slid into you, slowly. Sniper wasn't thick per se, but he was definitely long. The head of his cock practically kissed your insides in all the right places. With how wet you were, you didn't need much time to accommodate his size. Snapping his hips into your ass, you could feel every drag of his cock, every pulse and vein. His pace started off bruising, the hand keeping you pinned down began leaving crescent-shaped indents from his fingernails.

There was something primal about this. The heat had burned extra hot that day, and so did your lover, it seemed. He reached his free hand under you, beginning to rub sloppy circles on your clit. Shortly after, you eyes had screwed shut, a line of drool beginning to leak from your mouth. The campervan had rocked slightly with each thrust, your pants and pleas falling upon deaf ears as Sniper used your body. It wasn't long until you tried to warn him, maybe a little too late.

"Mick, I—!" Before you could continue, you had came, your own moan cutting you off. Sniper had a sick, twisted smile, letting go of your arms to focus fully on grabbing your hips. He had started slamming your overstimulated, quivering cunt back into him. It sent shocks through your body, the pleasure quickly turning to pain as it became too much

"Fuck, I love ya, roo. I'm gonna fill ya right up, make ya mine." His thrusts grew erratic, almost sloppy, as a string of curses and praise left his lips as he hilted himself fully inside of you. You heard a small groan, followed by some deep breaths as Sniper came inside of you. With a groan, he pulled out, his cock growing softer by the second. He yanked his pants up, buckling his belt back with extreme ease and skill. There was no time for aftercare. He helped you slide your clothes back up, your trembling thighs sending delight through him. He picked his slouch hat up from off the ground, dusting it off. He held a crooked smile as he placed it atop your head, the hat much too big for you. He had finished pumping gas, screwing the cap back on before leaning against the front of his Chevy.

"Where's Scout?"

"I paid him $20 to piss off somewhere for like half an hour. He'll be back soon, love."

#tf2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #tf2 sniper x reader #sniper x reader #sniper tf2 x reader #sniper tf2 #tf2 fandom

149 notes · View notes

itsphoenix0724 · 10 months

Text

Falling Stars (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Az feels like his throat is closing when he sees you in your Starfall dress, and he can't seem to get a word out to you. At least, until you're both more than a few drinks in.

Warnings: SMUT, semi-public sex, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Hello everyone! This is not my best work so I apologize, but I tried to really focus on the dialogue in this one. I hope you enjoy it regardless! Also if anyone wanted to submit any ideas/suggestions of what they would like to see more of my ask box is always open. As always constructive criticism is welcome.

Azriel was going to die.

You looked mesmerizing in your Starfall dress. The blue silk bodice hugged your figure just right, and delicate blue lace made up the bottom layered in tiers that matched the strips that fell off of your shoulders. Your leg peaked out of the high slit, and some of your hair was swept up behind you with combs encrusted with sapphire and diamond. You looked like a goddess of old, wrapped in starlight, and gracing unworthy mortals with your presence.

He was convinced you were trying to kill him.

Azriel had wanted to drop to his knees and worship you, or at the very least tell you he thought you looked beautiful. He actually thought beautiful was too simple of a word to describe you. However, when you made eye contact with him across the room his throat felt like it was closing in. The only thing he had been able to do was send you a tight smile and a nod before throwing back the rest of his liquor and refilling the glass. He didn’t know why he couldn’t talk to you tonight–the two of you could talk for hours. Watching your face fall at his piss-poor greeting felt like another stab to his already weak heart. You had moved to mingle around the party, and the number of male eyes on you only had him shooting back more liquor and sulking in the corner.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was not going as you planned.

Mor had sat with you for hours selecting a dress designed to bring Az to his knees. You had chosen this dress not only because it made you feel confident, but because you thought Az would love it.

You picked his exact shade of blue after all.

You had walked into the party with the grace of a queen, and the confidence that you could bring a kingdom to its knees. But the only thing Az did was send you a forced smile and then run off and hide.

Mor had tried to reassure you–she said Az always got weird during parties. Something about there being too many people, but he seemed to be socializing just fine.

For some reason, he was giving you the cold shoulder.

You could feel the confidence dwindling and poured yourself shots of the strongest liquor you could find. Fine, you decided, two could play this game. If he was going to pretend you didn’t exist you could do the exact same thing.

You made your way to Cassian and Nesta, looped arm in arm with Mor, determined to have a good time. Cassian let out a loud wolf-whistle and Nesta smacked him on the arm blocking him on his path to hug you first before wrapping you in her arms. Drinks were poured for the four of you and you celebrated the falling stars the best way you knew how.

Getting rip-roaringly drunk and enjoying the time with your friends.

Hours passed, and the buzzing feeling in your head was getting significantly stronger. Everything tingled from the tips of your fingers to the ends of your toes, and almost everything someone said to you seemed hilarious. You had danced practically the whole night and had kicked off your heels about half an hour ago. Still, no matter what you did you couldn’t shake the feeling of the Shadowsinger’s cold shoulder all night. You had caught his shadows swirling around your ankles multiple times before they slunk away like disciplined children crawling back to their master. The fact that he was standing in the corner watching you but still hadn’t said anything to you was infuriating.

You wanted some kind of reaction from him tonight, and you’d be damned if you didn’t get one.

You had decided enough was enough, and worked your way through the crowd before coming to a stop directly in front of Az himself.

He truly was a gorgeous male. He wore a black silk shirt with the top couple of buttons undone and simple back trousers. His hair wasn’t as messy as usual like he had styled it a little, but it was still falling into his eyes. Two blue siphons were still strapped to the back of his hands.

“Well,” You started, plucking the glass of whiskey out of his hands before draining the rest of the contents. Molten gold eyes tracked the movement of your throat, and a small flush rose to the tips of his ears. You realized you had your opening as you moved to further crowd his space, “have you been enjoying Starfall by yourself in this corner.”

Az seemed slightly stunned. You weren’t normally this bold and straightforward. You always spoke with a quiet calming voice, but now there was a bite behind your words.

“I’ve been enjoying the party.” He murmured back to you, trying very hard to keep his eyes trained on your face so they wouldn’t dip to your chest.

That endeavor failed very quickly.

His eyes trailed down to your cleavage and all he could think about was licking away the sheen from the party that appeared on your skin. When he saw the smirk on your face he immediately knew he had been caught looking.

“Why have you been ignoring me all night?” The buzz you were experiencing felt like straight courage running through your veins. You wanted answers out of the male standing in front of you.

You were going to get them too.

Azriel attempts to smother the guilty look on his face, but you catch it anyway as his eyes drift back down to the floor. “If I’ve done something to upset you, you should just tell me instead of ignoring me. You’re a grown male-act like it.” Az has it in him to at least look alarmed, eyes jumping straight back up to your face. This is not at all how he wanted this night to go. He shakes his head at you, before hearing the music dip to a low waltz. He musters up all the courage he wishes he had at the beginning of the night,

“You haven’t done anything. I’ve been an immature male all night, please, let me make it up to you.” The Spymaster extends his hand to you and you eye it for a moment intending to leave him hanging in suspense. After letting him squirm you accept his hand and he leads you onto the dance floor. The music isn’t much of a dance song, more designed to be a slow sway than an elaborate waltz. Azriel draws you close to him, one warm strong hand resting on the small of your back, and the other holding your hand leading you into the music. When you two fall into a comfortable rhythm he leans down to whisper in your ear. “You look exquisite by the way.” Az enjoys the bashful look that crosses your face and the light blush that dusts your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you hum–the close proximity to him almost makes you feel drunker, “so..are you going to tell me why you’ve been brooding all night.” You offer him a small smile, you won’t pressure him to talk but you want to know. You find you have your answer when Azriel’s stare rakes hungrily over your figure. “Oh. I see.” You can’t help but send a sultry look up at the Shadowsinger.

You’ve caught your prey, you think you’ve earned the right to toy with it a little.

“Perhaps I’m being selfish and imagining you wore this shade of blue just for me.” Azriel’s hand drops from yours, moving to join the other around your waist as yours loop around his neck. You look up at Azriel from under your eyelashes and his intestines feel like they’re tying themselves into knots.

“I think your ego might need a bit of a check spymaster,” you reach down, drawing one of his hands up the curve of your waist and over your breast before stopping to rest it over your fluttering heart. His eyes almost devour you as you move his hand, pupils going dark with desire. The blue siphon is in perfect alignment with the neckline of your dress, and Az can not stop staring. “Although I must say, they are a perfect match.” Your admission feels like an electric shock straight to Azriel’s bones.

Everything in his body locks like a lion waiting to pounce.

You meet his eyes and something charged runs through the both of you. You both know what you want, and the heated gaze Azriel levels at you already has a wetness pooling between your legs.

When Az’s eyes dart to the door leading out of the ballroom in question, you only nod in answer.

His hand on your back as he guides you out feels like a hot brand against your skin. Azriel leads you into a small bathroom in the hallway, and the minute the door closes behind you both he has you pinned flush against the door. You feel like all the air has been sucked out of the room as you and Azriel stare at each other. You feel one of his hands train up your exposed leg before you hear the click of the lock for the bathroom door. He drops his head to press kisses against your thundering pulse, and you can feel his nose brushing against the curve of your jaw.

“Do you know what you’ve been doing to me all night,” Az growls into your ear, one hand firmly planted on the curve of your ass.

The hard thing pressing against your thigh tells you exactly what you’ve been doing to him all night.

You don’t feel like waiting anymore and drag his lips down to meet yours in a heated kiss. He tastes like bourbon and night-kissed air. It’s addicting. Strong hands wrap around your waist and give a firm squeeze to your ass that makes you gasp out a moan. He uses this opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your whole body feels like it’s dissolving under his touch as you reach for his belt, the only thing on your mind was getting him out of his pants as quickly as possible. He runs one hand along the column of your throat, thumb stroking along your bottom lip.

“Are you ready to be a good girl for me?” His dark voice rasps into your ear. You nod up at him and his golden eyes are almost completely black with desire. He growls as he flips you around and presses you against the sink, and you moan as your chest rubs against the cool marble. You feel his hands hoist up the back of your dress, and you look up to see his devilish smirk in the mirror. Your eyes trail over to his hands and see the scrap of blue lace running between his scarred fingers. “Did you wear these just for me?” That cocky smile makes your knees go weak, and you send a silent thanks to Mor for insisting that you wear the matching underwear tonight. “I like seeing you in my color sweetheart,” he sends you a wink as he tucks your underwear in his back pocket, “I think I’ll hang onto these.”

That might be the hottest fucking thing you’ve seen.

He teases you with his fingers and sighs before bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean. You taste so fucking good, but he needs to get inside you soon before he explodes in his pants. He vows to spend hours between your legs another time as payment. He moans gospel around his fingertips, and while you’ve never been a religious female you might start praying to the mother tonight.

“You’re so fucking wet and I’ve barely touched you yet.” His eyes shine with an arrogance that makes you want to wipe the smirk off his face. His voice drops to a softer tone and he stares straight into your soul through the mirror, “Are you ready for me, or do you want me to prep you first?”

“I’m ready.” you’re writhing against the sink. You need him inside your right goddamn now or you might start crawling on him like a cat. You moan in relief when you hear him unbuckle his belt and remove himself from his trousers. From this angle you can’t see him fully, but you know he’s big if his wingspan has anything to say about it. He plants one hand on your lower back as he uses his other hand to guide himself into you. You feel the first inch slip in and then it stops, you look up at Az in confusion and his eyes meet yours in the mirror as one hand comes around to play with your nipples.

He leans his body down to press kisses into the skin of your neck before murmuring into your ear, “Beg for the rest darling.” Flame rises to your cheeks and you pull your eyes away from the mirror, but Az pulls you back so that you’re looking at him. You try to move backwards just to draw a little more of him into you. Unfortunately his grip on your waist is like steel. You’re not going anywhere. You swallow what little pride you have left and meet his eyes in the mirror.

“Please Az. God fuck me please.” That seems good enough for him and he slips himself the rest of the way inside of you. Az lets out a moan that makes your toes curl against the tile and your grip harden on the marble sink.

He fucks like a beast.

Hard and rough thrusts as one hand toys with your clit in a way that makes you feel like one of the stars you hope you’ll have enough time to see tonight.

Even if you miss it you can’t say you’d be that upset with the way the Illyrian is moving inside of you. An orgasm rips through you, tumbling through the night sky burning hot and bright before fizzling out and starting again. Az is relentless in your pleasure, pulling you to that edge again and again before he reaches his peak himself.

When you feel his thrusts start to get sloppy you know he’s close, so you start to fuck back against him. Az lets out a moan of appreciation at your efforts, and you earn a bite mark on your shoulder.

He finishes with a roar that shakes the mirror and you’ve never been gladder for the blaring music and waves of people to cover the two of you. He pulls out before gently wiping away the mess he’s made of your inner thighs before pulling your dress back down.

You gently stand with Az’s assistance and he rubs circles in your spine as apology for keeping you bent over for so long. That small act alone makes liquid gold run through your veins, and your whole body leans into the affection. Azriel opens and closes his mouth not quite knowing how to find the right words.

After all, what do you say to the female you love after you fucked her in the bathroom? He considers a few options– We should do this again sometime, please don’t say you want nothing to do with me after this, and I’m not normally the kind of male who fucks females in bathrooms. But you’re looking at him with honeyed eyes, and you understand what he’s trying to convey to you. So you reach up and kiss him again, hands running through the silken strand of raven black hair.

“We can talk about it later Az. We don’t have to figure everything out right now.” He nods greatufully and before you both exit the bathroom he pulls you into a bone crushing kiss he hopes conveys what his words cannot.

You leave the bathroom and rejoin your family to watch the stars together. No one can tell what happened in the bathroom at least until Cassian calls out to Azriel.

“Hey Az! What the hell is sticking out of your back pocket?” Both of your cheeks heat and your guilty eyes immediately dart to Mor who gives you a knowing glance and tips her wine glass in salute. Cassian does nothing more but wink at his brother as Az shoves the scrap of lace further down into his pocket and yanks you closer to his side.

Your friends will no doubt torture you for this later but wrapped in Azriel’s arms on the most beautiful night of the year you don’t seem to mind so much.

#acomaf #acotar #acowar #acosf fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar imagine #smut #acofas

783 notes · View notes

thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 4 months

Text

w.count: 1.1k - golden birthday wishes for him only (っ◔◡◔)っ ❤

evening was settling in when you came face to face with zhongli's front door. you knew he was cleaning up around his home today, he told you so after all.

"it's pleasant starting off the new year with a fresh start, and there's no better start than your own home," he had told you.

staring at the liyue styled door, you sway between knocking or just using the spare key he keeps stashed away not far from the entrance. on one hand, you felt like it would be rude to just interrupt his progress- even if the both of you had plans once the sun set. on the other, wouldn't it be just as rude to barge in unannounced- even if he was partially expecting you?

not coming to a proper conclusion, you decide to cut your awkward standing at his doorstep short. quickly finding the key, you crack open the door and with the little space you granted yourself, peek your head inside. the small lamp inside the doorway on the small shelf he kept was lit, so he was at least home. you didn't see him or his shadow anywhere though.

stepping further inside, you knock on the already open door twice before shutting it behind you. why chose between two options when you can just do both after all. toeing off your shoes, you step cautiously inside. although less than likely, you didn't want to startle the fake geo vision holder if you could help it.

"zhongli?" you call out, stepping into the main room. looking back and forth and even moving to check to see if he was in the kitchen; maybe he would be rearranging his tea leaves because there is no way he'd use his kitchen for cooking. lord of geo he may have used to be, that man cannot be trusted in the kitchen.

walking back, you stand at the bottom of the staircase that leads up to the second floor. he must be up there- and upstairs he was. once you reach the top, you could hear him rummaging around in a room with the door half shut. and old storage room he kept all sorts of things in if memory serves.

approaching the door, you knock softly a few times before peeking in just like how you did at the front door.

"zhongli?" you parrot from earlier and are met with his back. he was stood in front of an old wardrobe crafted from sandbearer wood- common to liyue. "well, don't you look handsome," you compliment when he turns to face you. walking inside, you come to his side and flick his long hair that rested on his chest over his shoulder to behind his back where it now rests along his spine.

the outfit he wore was one you didn't even know he had. though different from his normal whengsheng funeral attire, it had a familiar pattern to it. deep shades of brown lined with gold and flickered with designs that mimicked golden stars. the scaling pattern along the fabric was a nice touch as well; no doubt a nod to his golden form that had put on quite the dramatic show at his 'death'.

"i've never seen these pieces before," you tell him, reaching up to straighten the collar that crawled up his neck. zhongli's chest jumped in light chuckles at both your actions and words.

"i had forgotten i had them in truth. though, a long time ago, i used to wear them often." turning back to the open wardrobe, you notice an over coat with large shoulder guards that obviously went over the skintight under-layer he currently wears. "i came across them while tidying up, and in the spur of the moment decided to... remanence a bit."

"hmm," you hum in acknowledgement. seeing his normal clothes hanging neatly up away from him you indeed notice how similar they are. "did the person who made your clothes of today also make these?" his eyes blink in astonishment at your query.

"that is correct. you have sharp eyes to notice."

"i wouldn't go that far." you look up at him and brush his bangs around his face, fixing him up in small and rather passive ways. still, zhongli allowed you to do what you wanted. he enjoyed your preening; it made him feel cared for. your fingers move to brush around his ear that held a golden cuff that curled around his earlobe instead of his normal white dangling one. "are you planning to wear this out then? im sure it's creator would love to have it seen the moonlight of liyue on the eve of a new year, no?"

"the thought had crossed my mind," he admits. "perhaps i shall."

"then we better have a good time, or else the moonlight on the fabric will be wasted." you turn away from him to search the nearby dressers for shoes that aren't his daily ones. maybe a nice pair of boots instead... and maybe longer gloves to hide the golden veins running across his wrists. as you rummaged around, he watched you with stars in his eyes.

the way you encouraged and even prompted his whims filled his chest with so much warmth- it was like he could bleed gold.

"dear," he calls. when you turn to offer him your attention, his hand is outstretched towards you. a silent plea for you to come to him. and you do. placing your hand in his, he holds it tightly and tugs you gently so his lips can be pressed into the crown of your head. "you'll stay with me into the new year, yes?"

"where else would i be?" you notice over his shoulder the last rays of the evening darkening into a blanket of night. "but if you wish to see the festivities of the end of this one, we should hurry out soon." pulling his lips away from your head, he agrees. you help him into his coat- as out of style on an 'ordinary' man it was, it still looked far too good on him.

standing at the front door, you slip on your shoes you had left there earlier. and with his hand on your back, he falters when you stop suddenly before turning to face him. he blinks down at you and you wonder if he still remembers his birthday, or if he even cares at this point in his long long life.

"happy birthday, rex lapis," you tease. seeing as he was wearing his archon clothing, it felt right. zhongli just shut his eyes in amusement and thanks you by nuzzling his nose into your temple before leading you out into the harbor's busy streets.

call him greedy, but a part of him wanted to stay home so only you could see him like this. and additionally, only he could bask in your presence for the turning of the year.

perhaps he could sneak you away just before the clock ticked fully down and spend the first few minutes of the year of the dragon alone- even if it's hidden in an alley.

#genshin impact #zhongli fluff #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x you #zhongli blurb #zhongli fic #zhongli fanfic #zhongli #genshin impact zhongli x reader #happy birthday dragon man c: smooches

187 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 1 year

Text

Girl with a Pearl Earring

[modern! photographer • Aemond x female]

[warnings: dirty talk, domination, sexual tension, fluff]

[description: Aemond is a photographer dealing with works referring to the painting of the old masters. His sister poses in class for a girl who catches his attention. He decides that she would be a perfect model for one of his photos. Lots of sexual tension and slowly built fascination.]

Part 2 - Magdalene with the Smoking Flame

Part 3 - Ophelia

Part 4 - Lady with an Ermine

Part 5 - Rokeby Venus (End)

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

_____

It's been a long time since there was such a beautiful model in a painting class as Helaena Targaryen. With her fair, almost white hair, slender, fair face, snub nose, and blue eyes, she looked like an angel. She was able to create an amazing hairstyle with her combed braids.

The students and the professor decided to dress her in a blue gown, borrowed from costume designers from a nearby theater, in the style of seventeenth-century French fashion. Behind her was a large yellow background falling into the shade of warm gold. Even as herself, sitting half-profile towards them, she looked like a painting.

She had a great connection with her right away and they talked a lot. She knew that Helaena was the daughter of the dean of the university, a famous furniture maker and sculptor. Their entire family was famous for their strong commitment to the arts. She knew that Helaena's brother, Aemond, was in the fifth year of photography.

She was in her second year of painting and knew most of the people in his major - they often traded lecture halls - but he was always completely withdrawn. She had never seen him talk to anyone, he was always the first to leave the classroom.

Several girls from her year tried to flirt with him and get his attention, but their attempts ended in total failure. Still, she felt it wasn't fair that they were talking about him behind his back after being rejected. She tried not to express an opinion about him, because she didn't know him.

Even though it was known how Helaena got this temporary job, no one held any grudges about it because she bravely endured hours of posing without flinching. She decided to paint her portrait in the style of the Italian masters, starting with a monochromatic underpainting, applying the color with glazes in delicate layers. She was just starting to apply color to her face, making the character's face seem to emerge from the sketch around it.

The professor called a break and everyone got up to stretch a bit. Helaena stepped down from the platform and approached her, wanting to see how she was doing, as usual. She was delighted to see that the work was slowly moving to an advanced stage.

"What you do is amazing. You have real talent!” She said with her hand over her heart, playing with the chain. She smiled warmly at her.

They were talking for a while about ways of painting and different types of portraits when suddenly Aemond entered their room. He was looking for his sister with his eye, and when he saw her he walked towards her, greeting only the professor on the way.

"Ah, Aemond, thank you." Helaena said as he handed her apparently her own phone. "I had completely forgotten about him. Come closer, do you want to see how beautiful my new friend paints?” Helaena asked happily and she looked down in embarrassment. She guessed he didn't want to, but out of politeness he came over and stood behind them.

He literally said nothing. She glanced at him uncertainly over her shoulder and met his intense gaze which almost scared her. She blinked and opened her mouth slightly, then closed it, wondering if she should say something. She turned her head away, swallowing softly.

"Beautiful, isn't it? It makes me look like a baroque countess." Helaena said happily, looking at her brother.

Aemond only grunted, nodded, and stepped around her easel as he left the room. She looked at Helaena slightly shocked, but she seemed completely unfazed by his behavior.

"Is he always like this?" She asked quietly, wondering what had just happened. Helena laughed.

"Yes, he is very economical with words."

***

She entered the painting room first. She liked to look at her paintings from a distance before going back to work. When she looked at it with fresh eyes, she suddenly noticed all the mistakes she hadn't seen the day before.

It immediately caught her eye that she had painted one of the eyes a little too close to the nose. She immediately grabbed the brush, mixing the paints properly, wanting to fix it without even waiting for the model to show up.

She heard someone enter the room and, thinking it was Helaena, greeted loudly. Surprised after a while that no one answered her, she leaned over the easel and realized surprised, that her brother was standing in front of her.

Aemond, as usual, was dressed all in black. His black turtleneck emphasized his slender, long face and long, blond hair partly pulled back. He looked at her expectantly, as if he wanted to say something. She blinked, wondering what he might be looking for here, and suddenly it dawned on her.

“Helaena hasn't arrived yet, she'll probably be here in a few minutes. Should I tell her something?" She asked softly and smiled warmly at him. She decided that she would not be guided by the opinion of others and would form her own opinion about him.

Aemond turned his head, staring out the window, his mouth tight. He tapped his fingers on the sill as if thinking hard. After a moment he looked at her suddenly.

"Pose for me." He said indifferently, looking at her with a stony face. She sucked in a breath, completely taken aback by his proposal. She blinked, putting down her brush, looking at him curiously. She's never stood on the other side, modeling for someone.

“I take photos stylized as copies of paintings by old masters. I'd like you to pose for me as a Vermeer Girl with a Pearl Earring." He explained, apparently wanting to make it clear that he didn't mean the act or anything else that might seem inappropriate to her. She smiled widely.

"Very willingly! That sounds great. Will I also have to prepare the appropriate costume for this?" She asked, clearly excited, stepping closer to him. Aemond stared at her, surprised by her energy.

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll get you something." He said looking at her face thoughtfully. She blinked.

“I can sew well, and a lot of photography is about making the fabric look real. I can take care of it, I used to sew some historical costumes as a hobby.” She said lightly, looking at him expectantly. Aemond stared at her, clearly amazed at her commitment. He didn't seem to know what to say to her for a moment, because he hadn't expected such a pleased reaction.

“Well … if you want, of course, you can sew something. I'll bring something too. I will book a photo studio for next friday. Will you make it by then?" He asked softly, clearly appeased by the way she was acting.

"Yes, I will."

***

She was incredibly excited about his proposal. They exchanged phone numbers in case the studio was busy that day or needed to contact each other for other details about the shoot.

She had no idea why he chose her or what he saw in her, but she was very pleased that he wanted her to pose for him. She always dreamed of being someone's model, and she knew he was a talented photographer.

His pictures were really miniatures put in huge frames, almost like paintings. His photos, although colorful, had a kind of noise and blur that made the photo look old. He probably used special plates and exposure methods for this, but she wasn't very familiar with it. However, she knew that he was great at capturing the moment, chiaroscuro and color. There was something painterly about his photographs.

She spent one afternoon wandering around second-hand clothing stores where fabrics could be found cheaply. She was pleased that she had found everything she needed.

When she got home, she turned on her sewing machine, sewing a brown blouse for herself, and what she couldn't sew on the machine she sewed by hand.

She looked at herself in the mirror, looking at the effect of her work and decided that everything looked great. The fabrics she chose were soft and draped smoothly without looking artificial. She suddenly realized that she was missing the most important thing - a pearl earring. The pictures were to be taken the very next day, so she texted him quickly, scared.

[Y]: "I completely forgot that I need an earring, and I can't buy anything at this hour!"

After a few minutes, she saw that she had received a reply.

[Aemond]: "I was able to find a virtually identical pair of earrings at one of the pawnshops. I also have some fabrics if needed."

She took a quick portrait photo of her reflection and sent it to him along with the message.

[Y]: "I don't think any additional materials will be necessary."

He didn't write back to her for a long time. She got scared that he didn't like what she had created and started to worry. She jumped as her display lit up and she got a new message.

[Aemond]: "Well done."

***

She entered the studio at the time stated, looking around. Aemond was already inside, apparently adjusting the lighting. He just glanced at her and went back to working on setting the lamp.

"Close the door." He said coldly. She dutifully did as he asked and placed her backpack on one of the chairs against the wall. She took out all the materials she had prepared. She looked at him uncertainly.

"Can I change somewhere?" She asked quietly. Aemond looked at her in surprise and cleared his throat.

"Yes, you have a small storage room on the other side." He said, pointing to the opposite side of the room. "The door is open."

She nodded and quickly walked into the small room. With resignation she found that there was no mirror in it. There was no problem with putting on the shirts, but she had some issues with tying the bonnet and scarf.

Resigned, she poked her head out of the door, searching for him. He was looking through the camera at the place where she was supposed to be sitting.

"I need your help. I can't see if I tied it properly." She said pointing to the fabric on her head. Aemond motioned for her to come closer.

"Sit down. Here, like this.” He said, turning her with his hand, so that her body sat in profile to him. When he touched her with his large, cool hand, she shivered.

She watched him from below as he busied himself with tidying up her headgear. He glanced once in a while at the printed reproduction of the painting on the floor in front of him to get it right.

After a while he seemed pleased with the result. He handed her a pearl earring, and she put it on, empathizing with the person she was about to be. Aemond pulled away, took the camera in his hands and looked through the lens.

"Turn your head slightly towards me. No, not that much. Oh, that's right. Open your mouth slightly." He said matter-of-factly and suddenly she heard the sound of the camera shutter. Aemond pursed his lips.

"Don't look at me with such terrified eyes. Relax." He said and she swallowed softly, squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pull herself together.

This time she tried to keep her gaze soft. Aemond took the picture again. He pulled back and looked at her thoughtfully. His gaze was intense and he seemed to be thinking about something.

"Lick your lips." He said suddenly. She shivered at his words and looked at him in surprise, thinking she had misheard.

"What?" She asked quietly. Aemond looked at her expectantly.

"Rub your lips with your tongue. So that they shine." He recommended.

She felt her heart pounding. She blushed, ashamed and pursed her mouth, not looking at him, her tongue running slowly over her lips. She looked at him and saw that he swallowed softly.

He walked over to her and lowered the material of her shirt so that it showed more of her neck. She felt his fingers brush over her bare skin and gasped, wondering if he had done it on purpose. She looked at him and saw a shadow pass over his face.

"Yes. Look at me like that." He said, looking quickly through the lens. She lowered her eyes, embarrassed, feeling the tension in her whole body.

"Don't look away. Look at me. That's how you're supposed to look at me." He said in a tone that conveyed some kind of arousal and desire that made her shiver. She looked at him, her eyes hazy and slightly dreamy.

"Open your mouth." He ordered in a low voice, and when she did, he immediately took a series of photos of her.

"God, yes. Just like that." He said with a delight that made her even more embarrassed.

She lowered her eyelids, feeling her cheeks burn, pressing her lips together. Aemond looked at her with a mixture of admiration and something she couldn't name.

"Pose for me more often. I will pay you." He said suddenly and she looked at him surprised. She swallowed loudly.

"I… you don't have to pay me." She spluttered, looking away from him, looking down at her hands. She didn't know what was happening to her. She could feel his intense gaze on her, her heart pounding like crazy.

"Is that all?" She asked suddenly without looking at him.

Silence answered her. She heard him swallow hard.

"…yes, that's all." He spoke low, with a note of unreasonable uncertainty in his voice. She nodded and got up without looking at him, heading to the room where her things were.

She took off her costume and only now felt her hands tremble. She wondered what had just happened between them. She felt as if something inexplicable, artistic, intense and sensual had developed between them.

She left the room as soon as she was done. Aemond looked at her, obviously tense, looking at her expectantly. They looked at each other in silence.

"When can I see the result of your work?" She asked softly and saw him flinch as if he was thinking of something completely different, and her question brought him back to earth.

"On exhibition in two weeks." He said calmly, looking away. There was silence between them for a moment.

"Shall I go now?" She asked quietly, not knowing if he needed her for anything else. He looked at her in surprise and hesitated for a moment.

"Yes…yes, thank you, you can go." He said low. She nodded, said goodbye and left, closing the door behind her.

***

Aemond and she hadn't spoken to each other since the photos were taken. She saw him stare at her as they passed, but neither of them dared to speak. She wondered if he felt what she felt then too. She thought resignedly that his proposal was probably already out of date, but she had no intention of pestering him.

Helaena encouraged her to go with her to the exhibition. She had lost her will, but what Helaena said shocked her.

"Are you kidding? Your photo is at the center of his part of this exhibition. In the middle of the wall, in a beautiful frame, spotlit, the rest of his works are on the walls on the sides. This is probably his most beautiful picture!”

She blushed at her words and bowed her head. Her words made her feel that despite her fears she had to see it live.

What he saw on the other side of the lens.

That evening, she and Helaena arranged to meet outside the hall. She didn't want to go there alone, knowing that few people she knew would be there. She was grateful that she wanted to keep her company.

They went inside together, there were a lot of guests inside, talking intensely about something. The exhibition consisted of a series of works by several artist photographers, including Aemond. She noted with interest that her painting professor was also among the crowd.

At the very beginning there was a speech by the patron who funded the exhibition. He talked a bit about the assumptions of the exhibition, their artists and the works themselves. After it was over, as people rushed to fetch glasses of wine dispersing to explore, she saw with a lump in her throat what Helaena was talking about.

On the other side of the room hung her portrait. She had to get very close to it becasue photography was small in size, about the size of a notebook page.

The photo was slightly hazy, but sharp at the same time as if you could feel the air that was filling the studio at the time. She was delighted to see that indeed, the colors of her outfit perfectly reflected the saturation of those in the original painting.

She felt both awe and shame as she looked at her face. Her glossy lips were gently parted as if she was exhaling softly. Her gaze was warm, hazy, full of some unspoken, intense feeling.

She gave the impression that she wanted to say something to the viewer, as if she was already opening her mouth to say the words. She thought it was indeed a great photo and barely recognized herself in it.

She swallowed hard as she saw that indeed, her gold-framed picture was the only one on the main wall, the rest of his work was more closely spaced on the side walls. He clearly made this work the focus of his exhibition.

She looked curiously at his other works, and saw that they too alluded to the works of the old masters. She flinched as she heard a low voice behind her.

"What do you think?" Aemond asked, standing literally inches from her. He was so close she could feel his hot breath. She looked at him over her shoulder, confused.

"It's beautiful." She said softly. Aemond looked down at her, his gaze dark. He took a sip of wine from his glass, looking at her searchingly.

“I agreed with my professor on the subject of my diploma thesis. I want you to pose for me for female portraits like this one." He spoke calmly and matter-of-factly. She opened her mouth in surprise and blinked rapidly.

"I… I'd be very happy if I could help you." She said softly and smiled warmly, trying to control her facial expressions and her trembling heart.

Aemond looked at her intently. He pursed his lips, apparently debating whether or not to say what he was thinking.

"Be my muse."

_____

I decided that I wanted to write something that would be a one-shot and I came up with this idea. I really like what came out of it and I'm curious about your opinion. Let me know if you'd like it to be a mini series with other paintings in the background. If you want to be tagged, leave a comment below. ♥

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff

522 notes · View notes

amasterpieceofmadness · 3 months

Text

the new suit – tony s.

summary You and Tony are working together on a new suit as you end up kissing him. But before you can confess your feelings you get interrupted by Steve…

warnings none, fluff, mutual pining

wordcount 5.2K

______________________________________________________________

Tony slides his glasses back on as he’s fishing up on some new designs for his Iron Man suit. "You finished the sketches of the costume? Let me see." He leans over the desk while I’m sitting in a chair, he puts his palms on the table and takes a closer look over at my sketchbook.

“What do you think?” I ask as I lean back in my chair.

"Hmm." Tony stares at the sketchbook, rubbing his hands together as he takes in the designs, his brows furrowing and his mouth twisting into a thoughtful frown. "Very interesting. I see your thought process here. It's clear that you took inspiration from some of my old work, but you also managed to add your own touches. It's creative. I like it." He pushes himself off of the desk and looks at me from under his glasses with a small smirk, which makes me a bit proud to be honest.

“Oh, you haven't seen the best part yet” I lean over, nearly spilling my coffee, to get some more sketches out under a pile of other papers “There you are” I hand him the sketches and once again Tony leans in, craning his neck to get a better look at them. His face lights up as he sees them, quickly analyzing and taking in the details.

"Okay, I like the direction you've taken. I really like your new touches to my original style. It looks damn good, and the new armory you added sounds great!” He seems really pleased with my work.

“Thought you like it. The material for the suit is light but it can still protect you just as good and it is very resistance” I explain my sketches to him, occasionally looking up to check if he’s still listening.

Tony is visibly impressed, nodding in approval as he takes in the details. "Yes, that's a fantastic feature. The light weight and increased protection would be an asset in any battle. I also like the addition of the new weapons. It adds an extra level of versatility, and gives me a little more firepower. And it's great that you were able to do it all while keeping the suit light weight. That's always been one of my main concerns."

“So... when can we get started?” I ask overly motivated, looking up at him while sipping on my like 10th coffee today, even though it’s only 1pm.

Tony smiles and lets out a chuckle as he glances once again at the many sketches of his new suit. "Well, with this level of enthusiasm, I'd say we could start right now. Everything we need is here in the lab. The only thing we need to decide on is the color scheme. Do you want to stick with classic red and gold, or go with something different?"

I smirk and get up, ready to go to work. “No, no, the red-gold is iconic. We are not gonna change a thing there. But we should pick a darker shade for the red. This way the suit doesn’t look like a toy and it really brings out the golden accents I put there” I point to the sketches

Tony nods in agreement, looking at the sketches with a critical eye, taking in the subtle details I’ve added.

"Hmm, a darker red would definitely give it a more sophisticated and mature look. And it would also make the gold accents pop more. Let's go with a darker red, and see how it looks."

I nod in agreement and already walk through the lab, looking around for the stuff we need and turning on all the electronical devices. “Sounds good. But we can decide about the final color later on in the process anyway. Jarvis, put on some ACDC”

Tony chuckles at the unexpected command to Jarvis, but follows behind me as I walk through the lab, eyeing the different machines and equipment as I pass. "True that. For now, let's focus on getting the different parts of the suit put together. And ACDC is always a perfect choice for the mood in the lab." Tony says with a smile, as the iconic rock music fills the lab, filling him with a surge of energy.

We work diligently throughout the whole night, making steady progress on the suit. It’s nothing too unusual for the two of us since we both really enjoy working together and we are both night owls. And I have to admit that I love to work with him. We are very close and always fool around and joke together.

The sun is starting to rise, but neither of us seems to notice, as we’re too busy focusing on creating the perfect suit. We’ve made a lot of progress on putting the different components together, and we’re both beginning to feel a sense of accomplishment. Tony sighs and stretches and I can’t help but glance at his muscles. "I'd say that we should take a break and stretch our legs for a bit. We've been here all night, and I feel the need to move around a little bit."

I nod quickly and take my eyes off of him. If he noticed me staring, he just ignores it. “You can move around while testing the new gloves.”

Tony grins and nods his head, deciding that a physical test of the gloves was a great idea. "Eager, are we? Give me a few minutes to put them on, and then I'll go out on a test run."

“Alright. Jarvis, put on the test mode” Jarvis immediately snaps to attention and responds to the command in a calm and robotic voice. “Test mode initiated”

The suit is immediately powered on and the screens light up with different modes and data readouts. The hands and fingers of the suit appear to be moving and extending and retracting in a variety of movements. Tony's hands flex and move as he tests out the new gloves. I watch as Tony brings his arms forward and aiming the palms towards the ground. He holds the position for a few seconds, as a bright red circle emits from each palm towards the ground. The red rings come into contact with each other and create a force field that quickly expands and covers Tony inside of it.

A huge smirk crosses my face as I see that my plans work out and the new armory is working just fine. “What do you think?”

Tony chuckles in response to my smug grin. "I think it's brilliant. Your idea for the shield component was an excellent addition to this suit. Well done on this upgrade."

“Thank you” I chuckle and check the data on the screens again.

Tony flashes a wide smile as he looks at you with a hint of approval. That million-dollar smile that makes my knees weak every time. "You're welcome. I think your additions have really brought the suit to the next level.” Tony nods in agreement, glancing over at the different components that are stacked on the workbench. "The next step is to finish putting all the parts together and getting the full suit assembled. After that it's just a matter of testing the suit itself and making sure everything works properly."

I nod as well, approvingly, and look up at Tony. “What about you get some coffee, I get breakfast and then we can continue with the suit?”

Tony nods and smirks, excited to continue working on the suit. The day passes and Tony and I don't even leave the lab. Sometimes the other Avengers come in to check on us and they all smile at our teamwork. Currently Steve looks around the lab, smirking at Tony and me. “You know, the way you guys work together... it seems like there is going on more than just friendship”

Tony chuckles as he hears Steve's comment, but doesn't take his eyes off his work as he continues to assemble the different parts of the suit, testing and retesting every component for functionality and efficiency. He responds to Steve's comment without looking away from his work. "We have a good dynamic going. It's not hard to get in a groove and get things done with her on my team. That’s all."

I chuckle and walk over to Tony, handing him some more parts of the suit. “Just admit it, you would be helpless without me”

Tony laughs and jokingly rolls his eyes, as he takes the parts and slots them into the appropriate place inside the suit. He turns and looks at me, as he begins to test out the new upgrades. "Okay, okay, you've got me. I'm totally useless without you." Tony says in a sarcastic tone, though it's clear he's still enjoying the banter and he is thankful for my help.

I too chuckle and sit back down on my own working bench, getting back to work.

“You two are cute” Steve smiles, wanting to tease Tony a bit more.

Tony laughs again and blushes a bit as he hears Steve's comment. After all, we really do have very good chemistry. Tony doesn't deny the fact that there is some truth to Steve's comment, but decides to play it cool. He shrugs as he continues to work. "Thanks, Cap, but we're just friends. Nothing more." Tony says with a mischievous smile, as he continues his work.

“Whatever” Steve smirks and leaves the lab after looking around one final time.

Tony nods his head and chuckles as Steve walks away, but he can't help feeling just a little bit embarrassed, and a little bit excited, by Steve's comment. He glances over at me, as I’m working on my own component. We are just friends, but sometimes it's hard to deny that there is something between us. We continue to work together for another couple hours, until finally we have the full suit assembled. We take a moment to step back and admire our work proudly.

I grin widely in excitement, standing next to Tony. “It's finished! We made it, and it looks good!”

Tony looks just as excited and proud as me, as he grins and nods his head, looking over the full suit. It has a clean, classic look to it, while also incorporating all the new upgrades that they added. The red-gold color scheme stands out, and the added accents look like a perfect blend of old and new. Tony is truly satisfied with the finished product. "I'd say we did an excellent job, wouldn't you?"

“Definitely!” I say a bit overexcited and thanks to my clumsiness I nearly fall over

Tony can't help but laugh a little bit as he sees me stumble, but he quickly catches me with his strong arms and steadies me, supporting my weight. He looks down at me with a smirk. "Careful now. We don't want any accidents to ruin our finished product."

I chuckle slightly but can't help and blush a bit as I get back onto my feet, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “Of course not”

Tony smiles at the brief blush that he witnesses, though he is careful to keep his expression neutral and professional. He knows from experiences just how easily he can get distracted when I’m close. "So, what do you say, are we ready for a test run?"

”Yeah... Yeah! Let's test it out, getting you dressed up” I smile at him excitedly.

My enthusiasm is contagious, and Tony can't help but smile at my excitement. He starts getting changed, quickly pulling the different components of the suit on. The gloves snap into place, the boots secure onto his legs, and finally the chest and head components are in place as well. I just watch, occasionally checking the screens for the data. I can’t help but think he looks really handsome in that suit…

"Okay, I'm ready to test it out. Let's put this bad boy to the test.” Tony says as he is now fully into the suit.

I smirk at his choice of words and watch as Jarvis finishes securing the last component and the suit seals itself in place. The various monitors light up with different systems and readouts, as Jarvis speaks in his typical calm voice "Suit has been activated and all systems are at full operating capacity." Tony smiles and steps away from the workbench, giving the suit a brief visual inspection before turning to face me. "So, what do you think?"

“It looks damn good” and you too, I think to myself. “Jarvis, activate the testing mode”

Jarvis obeys the command, and the suit powers up fully, with the chest piece shining brightly as the repulsor rays light up. The arm cannons point forward, ready to act. It is indeed an impressive sight. "Alright, let's do this."

As soon as the face mask snaps into place, the suit is fully sealed and active. Tony lifts his hands into the air, as the repulsor rays shoot out at full power. The suit propels Tony into the sky, as the thrust lifts him into a high, smooth, stable flight.

I smile happily, we really did a great job. I walk around checking the diagrams on the computers “Seems like everything works just fine. Try it out some more”

Tony begins to fly around the lab, testing the different features of the suit. He begins testing out the weapons that you had installed as well. He seems pretty satisfied and I too smile happily, glad we did such a good job. “Jarvis, open the window hatch”

Jarvis immediately responds with a calm, robotic voice. "Opening window hatch." The window hatch opens up, allowing Tony to fly directly out of the lab and into the open outdoors. I watch as he flies through the window and up into the sky, his suit still shining brightly in the sunlight. He flies in a large circle around the lab building. I grin widely as I run over to the window and look outside, seeing Tony flying around in his new suit

Tony seems to be enjoying the test run as much as I am watching from the lab. He appears to be in full control of the suit, and seems to have no problems flying it around the outdoor space above the lab. The flight is smooth and stable, allowing Tony to make sharp turns and take advantage of the different features of the suit. He seems to be testing out every aspect of the new suit as he goes along. After a few minutes, he begins to fly back towards the lab window. He returns right through the window and lands in the lab, opening his face mask. I walk over to him, more than happy

“Wow! That looked so awesome!”

Tony nods his head as he pulls the mask off of his face. He is visibly thrilled and excited, both by the positive outcome of the test and by the fact that I were there to witness it. "It flew surprisingly well, and the different weapon systems were all functioning perfectly. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a test run this much. And it all came out looking so good as well. We did a great job!"

“Yes, we definitely did!” I hug him out of pure excitement and suddenly our lips meet for just a few seconds.

Tony is caught off guard by this unexpected kiss, but he immediately wraps his arms around me as he kisses me back for just a few seconds. A brief and innocent kiss, the result of the heat of the moment. Tony pulls his head away eventually, and we just stand there, staring into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. He smiles and I see a faint glimpse of his cheeks turning red. I quickly pull away, blushing heavily and stuttering. “Oh my... I... I'm sorry, I... I don't know what... I ...”

Tony laughs softly as he sees just how flushed I am, but he's unable to hide a brief moment of amusement. "Relax, it was just a quick kiss. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Just a natural reaction to the moment. No big deal."

I take a deep breath, my cheeks still bright red. “We… we did a great job. The suit seems to work just fine”

Tony smiles at the way I stumble over my words, as he notices that my cheeks still haven't stopped blushing.

"Definitely. The suit works perfectly. The results speak for themselves and it will definitely be a game changer. But I guess the suit isn't the only thing that will be changing..."

I turn to look at him and frown, asking concerned “What do you mean? Are you not happy with it?”

Tony laughs as he notices the misunderstanding. "Oh no, I'm very happy with the suit. I was referring to our relationship. It feels like it's been changing between just friends and something more. I mean, late nights in the lab together, our banters, glances and a quick kiss, and you're blushing like crazy.”

My eyes widen at his words and I can feel my heart beating out of my chest. My voice shaky “Tony... I... I think this is just... the lack of sleep or the amount of coffee we drank or the excitement from the suit... I...”

Tony chuckles slightly and shakes his head, as he steps towards me and places his hands on my waist. "Is it really though? Or is it something else? I think we both know that this whole evening we've spent together had more to it than simple late nights and coffee.”

I look at him still dressed in his suit, my face flushed and my heart beating like crazy. “Tony...”

But before he can reply, Steve enters the lab and Tony immediately let go of me, stepping back a little.

“Oh hey! You finished the suit!” Steve says, rather impressed by the work Tony and I’ve done.

Tony stares at Steve with a friendly smile, knowing that he was caught in the middle of something but trying to play it off. "Sure did. Y/n and I just finished up the final tests, and we're very pleased with the results."

Steve looks between Tony and me, smirking softly and raising an eyebrow “Did I interrupt anything?”

Tony laughs as he shrugs his shoulders, pretending to be completely oblivious to the tension that was obviously there between him and me earlier. "Interrupt? No. We were just excited that the suit seemed to work so well, so we were discussing the final results and plans for the suit” he explains calmly and walks over to Steve, showing him the new suit he is still wearing.

“Yeah, we were just testing it out and the suit works pretty well” I smile at Steve as well, trying to hide my blush

Steve smiles back at me and gives a brief nod, as he continues to study my expressions. "Great! Seems like you both did an excellent job. I guess the suit isn't the only thing that got tested out tonight, huh?"

I blush and quickly turn around as Bruce also comes into the lab. “Oh hey, Wow! That suit looks good!”

The unexpected entry of Bruce throws Tony off for a quick second, as he glances over at him and flashes a look of surprise. He quickly regains his composure though, and smiles as he looks back over at Steve and Bruce. "Thanks. You’re just in time to see the new suit in action, if you'd like. Y/n and I just finished up the final tests for it."

As we continue to talk and show the features of the suit to Steve and Bruce, I notice the way that both Steve and Bruce keep stealing glances over at Tony and me with smirks in their faces. I know that at least one of them can clearly see the chemistry that is present between me and Tony. We both seem to be very close and comfortable together as we talk and laugh. After a while I start to feel tired and decide it's now time to get some rest. “Alright guys, I think I'll go get some sleep now. Tony, you good without me?

Tony's expression softens as he sees me starting to feel tired. He gives me a soft smile and nods his head. "Yeah, I'll be fine. You go get some sleep, and we'll meet back here tomorrow morning."

I agree and smile back at him before waving at Steve and Bruce before heading out of the lab and towards my room.

Tony watches me as I walk away, and he can't help but notice the way my curves hug tightly against my pants as I walk away from him. The vision in his eyes briefly lingers as all of the memories from the night come back to him. A faint glow appears in his eyes as he continues to watch me, then eventually he breaks the gaze and turns to Steve and Bruce.

Tony starts to get out of his suit and Steve smirks at him knowingly. Tony knows he's been caught, so he turns to look at Steve and raises an eyebrow in question, waiting for him to say what's on his mind. “So, what exactly did I interrupt before I came into lab?” Steve asks curiously and leans back against a work bench.

“Yeah, what was going on between you two?” Bruce looks confused yet curious between the two men.

Tony sighs as he realizes that he doesn't even have an excuse for this one. He can't deny the chemistry between us that both Steve and Bruce have observed. He just shrugs his shoulders, with a look of acceptance that shows he no longer has room to weasel himself out of it. "Just two friends enjoying some late night lab time. You know how it is. We just got a little carried away by the excitement of the suit."

“No, no... That seemed like something way more intimate” Steve smirks again and won’t let this go so easy.

Tony realizes that he's now in the position of having to either play dumb, or explain everything. Playing dumb in front of Steve and Bruce won’t work though. Tony sighs. "Look, Steve, some words have been spoken and there was a quick kiss. We both felt that this was more than just friendship..."

Both Steve and Bruce start to grin. “That's so cute. But you should talk to her, Tony.”

Tony's face flushes bright red. He hates that he is currently at the mercy of both Steve and Bruce with this whole situation. They are both grinning at him, clearly enjoying his predicament. He tries to act casual and gives off a soft sigh, acknowledging that Steve and Bruce are both right. "You guys... Come on, it wasn't that big of a deal. It just happened in the moment. Maybe it was all just a result of the late nights and energy drinks and the excitement of the suit."

Steve frowns a bit and looks more serious at Tony “The question is, do you want it to be just that?”

Tony looks over at Steve, knowing exactly what he's asking and fully aware of what his answer would be if he let himself be honest. He doesn't want it to be 'just that', but he can't just come out and say it in front of Steve and Bruce. Tony shakes his head from side to side, as if he can't really respond, though his mind is giving him a very strong, and very clear answer.

Both Steve and Bruce just smirk at each other, knowing the answer. Bruce sighs and pats Tony’s shoulder “Alright, buddy, get some rest. And think about it” Then Steve and Bruce leave.

After Steve and Bruce leave, Tony is left alone with his own thoughts, as he realizes that he now has to face the situation on his own. He can't keep trying to play it off as 'just a little accident' or "a result of late nights and energy drinks." It was all real, and he just has to find out how much it means to Y/n. He walks around the lab, considering everything that has happened over the course of the evening, and the different feelings that he feels for her. That brief kiss that had occurred. He's completely lost in his own thoughts as he walks to his room, pacing up and down.

Meanwhile I’m sitting on my bed and even though I’m rather tired, I’m wide awake, thinking of all the nights I spent with Tony in his lab. We were really good friends, but is that really everything? It was all getting to my head. I look over at the clock to see it's already 11:30 pm. I sigh and decide it was no use, so I get up and walk back to the lab, wanting to sketch some more ideas.

Tony is wide awake, as well. The memories from the night keep running through his head and he can't help but notice the way his heart begins to beat faster as he plays those memories back in his head over and over. He thinks about the late nights together where they would work on the suit, the jokes and laughs that they shared while doing so, the excitement that they felt and the brief kiss that they had shared, the blushing cheeks... Tony lies in bed for a while, struggling to fall asleep. He feels just a little bit energized from the night, but more so, he's feeling a bit restless as he struggles to process the events of tonight. He too notices how late it is and he decides to head back to the lab.

I'm sitting on the chair, hair up in a messy bun, looking over some sketches and trying to find some more new ideas to add. I'm so focused on the sketches that I don't even notice Tony entering the lab

Once Tony reaches the lab, he immediately catches a glimpse of the sketches and how casually I am seated with my hair up. I look very relaxed, almost as if this is normal for me to be up at this time in the lab, and Tony can't help but notice how the night had only brought out the most natural and casual side of me. He is also struck by how lovely you look in this setting...

Tony watches as I keep sketching, and he can't help but be charmed by how focused and completely lost I am in the task at hand. He finds himself feeling the urge to hug me and just rest his face against my shoulders to breath in my scent.

I’m just trying out some sketches of additional ideas on the suit when I suddenly feel a pair of strong, warm arms wrapping around myself and I jump slightly. “Shhh, it’s me” It's Tony, who has silently approached me from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. He rests his head on my shoulder, the feeling of my hair against his face feeling extremely reassuring. I can feel the heat of his body as his breath is close to my neck.

I let out a breath shaky breath “Hey…” Tony smiles as he feels my body relax in his embrace, and he doesn't even bother to explain his sudden move. He just enjoys the warmth of the moment, just as I am, as he wraps his arms even tighter around me, pulling me closer. “Aren't you asleep?” I ask curiously, ignoring the beating of my heart

"Nope." Tony answers softly, as he continues to tightly pull me into his embrace. He doesn't want to let go. He enjoys this moment of just being close to me without saying a word, and he can't help but breath in the scent of me that fills his nostrils. I relax more in his embrace and lean back slightly into him, closing my eyes and resting my hand onto his arms, feeling his muscles beneath his skin. Tony leans his head towards me, and he gently gives my cheek a small kiss, without saying anything. He feels my body slightly tense up at this, but I don't pull away. He can't help but blush at the fact that I’m allowing this to happen, as he pulls himself away, a small blush on his cheeks. I blush heavily and finally I turn my head slightly so now I'm facing him. We are just inches apart.

Tony stares deeply into my gaze as he can suddenly feel the intense connection between us. He can't help but be struck by everything that he's feeling when he looks into my eyes. He slowly moves his face forward, and he presses his lips onto mine, kissing me soft and gently. I can't help but blush heavily. The first kiss today in the lab was due to excitement, but this one now is different. This is a more intimate kiss, the kind where you slowly move forward, and you keep your lips connected to his. He pulls back after a few moments, just enough for our faces not to be touching anymore, but he is still close enough to feel my breath as it touches his face.

“What was that for..?” My voice is not more than a whisper, just for him to hear

"It was just... an urge to show you my appreciation." Tony answers softly, as he continues to smile at me. His gaze is still soft and gentle, but there's also this slightly confident tone in his voice which hints at the possibility that this 'urge' is something more. He pauses for a moment, as he sees my reaction to his statement, and he waits for my respond.

I smile at him softly “Then let my show you my appreciation” I turn around a bit in my chair, now able to move my arms and lay my hand onto his chest

He doesn't say anything in reply, but he leans forward and slowly presses his lips against mine once more, in a longer, and more intimate kiss. He can't help but let out a soft noise. He continues to kiss me soft and gently, wrapping his arms around me now and pushing himself even closer to me. The kiss feels very tender and affectionate, and he can't help but feel a bit vulnerable in this situation, as if this was all just too perfect to be true. We pull apart and look at each other. He shakes his head as he regains composure and smiles softly at me.

“God, I love that smile”, I say to him, laying one hand against his cheek softly.

Tony wraps his arms around me tightly. He leans closer and he presses his forehead against mine, his eyes closing and taking a deep breath. “And I love you”

My smile grows even more as I hear those words from him. “I love you too” I whisper and he pulls me in for another loving kiss before looking at me again with his charming smile. We continue to stand in the lab, holding each other and no one of us wanting to let go as we finally confessed our feelings to each other. And it’s just the perfect ending to the work on his suit.

A/N Here is my complete masterlist with all the ff, imagines, oneshots, smut and whatever. Check it out and leave a like :)

#marvel #iron man #avengers #tony stark #fluff #marvel fluff #marvel imagine #oneshot #friends to lovers #tony stark fluff #tony stark x reader #rdj #robert downey jr #mcu #marvel imagines

110 notes · View notes

thoughtsfromlayla · 2 months

Text

Love and Loss

Summary: Despite being married for centuries, the two lovers have yet to produce an heir. Desperate for a child, she makes a deal with Phanes, God of Life, unbeknownst to her that motherhood has its own complications much like love and marriage. Now she must find a way to save both her child and her love.

Notes: ~11k words, only lightly edited... so yeah. Also, this is my first time posting any of my writing so I'm nervous as fuuuuck. I keep switching between past and present tense but I think I caught them all but idk. Let me know if I miss any tags or warnings! (There's so many plot holes but shhhh)

Warnings: MDNI - 18+ content, one use of Y/N but written in 3rd person, Reader has a "name" that's only used twice, pregnancy, loss of pregnancy, metaphorical use of surrogation, usage of miscarriage themes, jealousy, P in V, oral (F! receiving), unprotected sex, jealous Dream but that's to be expected really, regency-esque, diverges from cannon

Masterlist

================================================

Despite having been in the Dreaming for so long, its frigid air was something she could never get used to. The temperature always fixed itself somewhere between an unheated house on a winter’s day and a spring day in the shade. Despite her title in the realm, she always felt like a child walking to the kitchen late at night to grab a snack whenever she meanders into the great hall.

The castle of the Dreaming was her home, and she was the owner in every right as her husband. A small black cat accompanies her, its green collar and bell jingle with each step in its preppy trot. Her Lady wore simple garments, a dark green dress with slits to match her feline friend. Its light-weight fabric billows around her with a breeze that never seems to stop and some golden jewelry decorated her neck and arms, all gifts from his Lord. She opted to walk barefoot, skin to soil, so as not to hurt her feet necessarily before the upcoming dinner the Dreaming would host later today—the idea her own entirely that her husband agreed to for her sake.

Her legs move her toward the throne room, where she is certain her husband presides. Still, her feet are cold and thus she picks up the pace. Her steps are lighthearted as she prances on her tiptoes, heels dangling from her fingers.

Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of the Nightmare Realms, Prince of Stories. She was sure there were more, but if she were to start listing them all in her head, she’d be stuck there all day. Morpheus was as old as humanity itself, perhaps even older. But as she sees him spread out on his throne, the air of authority is never questioned. Age has only made him more intimidating.

Morpheus commands any space he enters. His shadow fills each nook and cranny it seemed fit, aura chilling and distant. Yet he himself was a beautiful creature indeed. His modern form molded himself into a lean body, distinct muscle lines, and a strong jaw. His dark hair always looked tousled as if he had rolled out of bed a mere minute ago, and despite how often she would run her hair through the silky strands, they never behaved as they should have.

“Wife, mine,” Morpheus greets as she nears the bottom of the stairs. “What ails you to seek me out?”

The Lady smiles and gives a small curtsy before she ascends the curved stairs. “Nothing ails me, my lord. Must one have a reason to see her husband?”

Morpheus lets out an entertained breath before opening his arms in invitation. Another graceful smile appears on her lips as she sits comfortably in his lap, his arms encircling her.

“No, I suppose not,” He replies. He watches as she makes herself as comfortable as she can, leaning her head on his shoulder in a way that wouldn’t mess up her hair. The handmaidens would not stop fussing over it if a single strand was out of place from their original design.

“I simply wish to spend some time with you before our feast. I fear that I will be whisked away as I entertain guests for the evening.” She closes her eyes and steadies herself on the patterned breathing of her husband.

“I will stay by your side if you so command it,” Morpheus says. He runs his thumb in circles on her bare shoulder.

“And have everyone afraid to approach me? With your dark and brooding act?” She jests, her eyes opening briefly to look into his.

He can’t help his eyes rolling at her slight tease. “As you wish, my love.”

The two lovers sit for a moment. The sounds of her cat purring and their breaths mingling fill the air. But serenity such as this never lasts long in a castle like theirs. Lucienne comes from a hallway, presumably, the library’s, dressed up as well. Her coat was tailored to fit her body, her shoes freshly shined, and her glasses cleaned.

She gives a curt bow to the two sovereigns. “My lord, my lady,” She addresses. “The guests will be arriving soon.”

“Thank you, Lucienne,” Her lady says. She reluctantly releases herself from the warmth of her husband and uses the throne as a brace to put on her shoes. Her husband’s hand rests on the small of her back to further assist her.

“I will see you very soon, my king,” She says leaning down to peck his cheek before descending the stairs. She looks back once with another smile and then follows Lucienne to greet the arriving guests.

Morpheus’s eyes watch her figure until she turns a corner. He was still underdressed, his day previously preoccupied with trying to find a certain nightmare. He was simply idling on his throne in a simple black attire with his long coat. After all, a king need not worry about how he looks if he commands respect without golden bribes. With a wave of his hand, sand befalls him and covers him like ivy to a broken wall. When they recede he is dawning a tight button-up undershirt and vest, its fabric weaved with intrinsic cloud-like designs. His coat is now replaced with another of a similar shape and design but resembles cotton instead of the original felt. He fastens the raven cufflinks and smooths down his pants before rising from his throne and going to the Dreaming’s castle garden.

When Morpheus enters the gardens he immediately spots his wife at the entrance, standing underneath a pergola of purple wisterias and climbing hydrangeas. The flowers slowly lean towards the goddess as her presence fuels them by simple proximity. Her cat is nowhere to be seen and probably ran off into the gardens after a rodent caught his eye.

Morpheus slides up beside his wife as she greets the last of the guests arriving. He turns his head towards the decorated table and can see a great spread of gods, goddesses, fairies, nymphs, and other mystical creatures that his wife had managed to befriend—the feeling of her arm wrapping around his redirects his attention.

“Shall we, lord husband?” She gives him another one of her smiles and he understands how the hanging flowers feel. How he had ever lived without her before was still a mystery to him. To be him without her, it is like the Earth without its Sun - and he wishes to always feel the gravitational pull of her love.

Morpheus leads them towards the aggregation of guests, all of whom devote their attention to them.

“Beloved guests,” His wife starts speaking in her nectar-like tone, “Despite what is currently happening in the waking world, we are pleased that you could make time and attend this wondrous dinner.”

The goddess pauses for a brief moment as her guests clap in agreement. When they stop, she continues. “The feast is served buffet style, please eat and enjoy yourself to the fullest content. The Dreaming is here for your convenience.”

With her open palm, a long table appears with dishes of all types. Wreaths and fresh flowers decorate any empty space, which is to say, not much. Lambs, beef, and several types of poultry and fish take centerpieces along the table. Fruits, vegetables, and freshly baked bread weave in between the large plates as palate cleansers and small plates appear on the very corners of the table. A satisfied smile appeared on Her Lady’s face as the guests began grabbing food.

As the dust settles and smaller niches of guests start grouping, Morpheus is displeased when his wife leaves his side to mingle amongst the other gods. He watches from the shadows, small fruit plate in hand, glooming as she smiles with her guests. A hand comes up to hide her mouth as she laughs at something Phanes, God of Life, said. Jealousy brews and grows bitter like spoiled milk.

Morpheus stands, ready to come to his wife’s side in hopes of deterring the god, but before he can a nymph comes forward and gives an exaggerated curtsy. He can’t help the slight roll of his eyes as she begins to talk him up. The nymph’s voice carries a small lithe to it and he becomes unfocused, only noticing the movement of his wife’s green dress and Phanes walking off into the hedge labyrinth.

A frown etches itself onto his face. The nymph choosing to ignore the frown finds the courage to lift a mossy hand to caress his coat’s lapel, to which the Endless notices. Morpheus looks down at the nymph, his hand tightly grabbing into her wrist and dropping it away from him.

“Do not presume you may touch me, insolent child.” His voice is deep and grave as his frown deepens.

The nymph’s face contorted into embarrassment as red poppies boom across her cheeks and ears. She briskly walks away, forgetting to curtsy, with her tail tucked between her legs. The forest nymph looks forward to the next time she meets the Dream King, but she does not know that this will be the last time the doors of the Dreaming will open to her.

Dream makes a beeline towards the hedge labyrinth, taking a right turn as he had witnessed his wife doing moments ago. But, as something as lucid as the Dreaming, the labyrinth path twists and turns in new ways each moment. Morpheus turns left and right based on where he could feel his wife’s presence, but seems that she does not want to be found.

As a deity in her own right, should she so command it, she would not be found. Something that the Endless found infuriating at the moment. What could she possibly be doing with Phanes? Did she invite him for a personal reason? Was the dinner event a ruse so she could speak with him without raising any questions? Well, Morpheus surely was starting to ask questions.

Jealously turned into guilt quickly like the crack of a lightning bolt. Has he not been a good husband? Was she getting bored of their marriage? It has been several centuries, after all. Guilt turned into sadness as the questions he asked started bringing down his spirit. Surely there is something he can do to make her happy again. Surely she is faithful, surely, surely, surely…

Morpheus stands still, the drive to find his wife lost. The hedge leaves shiver as the temperature grows colder from the king’s mood. The lovely sunset leaves the last of its warmth before disappearing, leaving the sky full of stars. He turns around and retraces his steps, if his wife does not want to be found, he will grant her this wish.

Morpheus would never admit to anyone that he mopes. But with his sluggish walk and downturned lips, he clearly was. He sees his wife had made it out of the labyrinth quite some time ago and is already waving her guests goodbye, Phanes nowhere in sight. When she sees him emerging from the hedges, she perks up and excuses herself from her conversation.

“Dear husband, where did you run off to? Too many people in your presence?” She jokes, latching herself onto his arm.

“I was merely looking for you,” Morpheous murmurs. He starts walking with her back to the castle.

He waits as his wife takes a pause, slowing down in step. “You followed me into the labyrinths?”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“Yes…” He draws out, trying to tread lightly, hoping that she would open up without much prompting. “I saw you and Phanes entering together.”

An amused huff escapes her. “I see.”

The silence lingers like the plague: uncomfortable and heavy in the air.

“Will you not speak as to why?” He questions and he almost hates how desperate he sounds.

The lady takes a seat on his throne, only to lean down and take off her shoes with a satisfied sigh. She rubs the ankles of her foot when she speaks again. “I believe it to be a personal matter.”

The answer was vague, and Morpheous hated it. Angry, gray storm clouds formed overhead and the ice-cold rain started to hit the stained glass behind her.

“Am I not worth sharing with?” He asks again, but he doesn’t stop to let her answer. With her eyes wide in surprise, he continues. “Am I not good enough? Faithful enough? Am I not devoted enough to you, my love? Will you command me to beg on my knees, I shall if you so ask.”

He falls to his knees before her and runs his hands from her ankle to her knee, slowly, deliberately. His lips follow soon after, tracing the same path his fingers had. Her breath hitches and her hearts start beating faster.

“How can I show my devotion to you, my love?” He kisses.

“My wife?” He kisses again.

“My forever goddess?” And again.

“Morpheus,” She breathes out, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. She is all he ever wants to breathe and all he wants to taste.

“I pray to Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, for forgiveness. I have left my wife unsatisfied and feel the crop of our love withered. I shall repent for my sins by your guidance.” Morpheus says in a hushed tone as he slowly inches higher on her leg.

The goddess feels power surge through her as the prayer leaves her husband's lips, and she craves the touch of them on her own. Heat pools between her legs as her husband’s breath fans across her lower regions. Her dress slits exposed her legs deliciously to Morpheous but there were still her undergarments, which he removed slowly, keeping contact with her silky skin as it slid down.

Her Lady looks down at him with uneven breaths and waits for him to give her what she wants. Morpheus, however, is patient. He traces his lips higher, he kisses all the spots she wants, but not where she needs it the most.

“Morpheus,” She pleads, and it is all he needs. One moment it is the cold air of the Dreaming and the next it is the warmth of his lips, tongue languishing the length of her slit.

She jerks in place, strong hands holding down her hips. Her own hands shoot out, desperate to grab onto anything. One, bear-clawed and desperate, on the arm of the throne and the other weaving itself into the silky strands of her husband. She gasps at the wet sensation and her head is thrown back in pleasure.

The Endless is unmovable, driven solely by the purpose of satisfying his wife. A low groan emits from deep in his throat at the unapologetic sounds she cries, babbling in a series of his name and other obscenities. He tilts his head higher until he finds her clit and relishes in the pain of her nails in his hair, lapping at her arousal with contentment until it drips down his chin. He is a starved man and she is his salvation.

Morpheus continues his demonstrations, alternating between her clit and her needy cunt. She clenches her thighs hard as she feels the impending rise of her orgasm. Her fingertips buzz with excitement as he continues to ravish her sensitive clit. His pace continues, and her eyes roll to the back of her head.

She calls out his name again, and a high-pitched whine leaves her lips as he easily adds two digits into her weeping hole. He moves them slowly, slightly curved to touch that delicious spot inside her that has her arching her back taught like a bow. From below, Morpheus looks at her through his lashes, and he can’t help the smirk that tugs on his lips as his wife tries to thrash from the sensations. She tightens around him, cunt pulsing sporadically, and he is flooded with her orgasm where he drinks greedily from the taste - sweet like a plentiful summer wine.

He places a final gentle kiss on her clit before looking at her again, the skin of her extremities glowing ethereally as she tries to control her ragged breaths. She is still in the midst of her orgasm, trying to calm herself from the high and he finds it the perfect time to leave a bruising hickey on the inside of her plush thighs. Morpheus gets up, dick painfully hard as it brushes against his pants. He takes hold of her hands to help her stand on wobbly legs and leans back.

He leans until he falls, through the throne room floor and then onto the plushness of their shared bed. His command dematerializes both of their clothes and he basks in the sticky warmth of his wife on top of him. He runs light fingers down her spine, shivers following behind like a loyal companion, whispering sweet nothings into her ears.

“Come back to me,” He murmurs, kissing her sweat-filled brow.

“Hmm,” The goddess exhales after a few more seconds of silence, eyes opening languishingly, lashes tickling the skin of her husband.

She looks around the dimly lit room for a moment before realizing that she is in their bed. Using her husband’s chest, she props herself up, effectively straddling him beneath her. Morpheus remains unmoving, ignoring the way his tip brushes against her lower lips, only messaging the meat of her hips with his thumb.

When she meets his eyes again, he speaks. “Have I proven myself, dear wife?”

It takes a moment for the goddess to remember what he was talking about and her feelings crash down again. “You had never needed to prove yourself to me, Morpheus. What happened between me and Phanes will remain between me and Phanes.”

She lifts herself on sore thighs, but can’t get far as gentle hands turn rough. The next moment, she is lying down with her husband looming over her. There was not enough light to illuminate his face, leaving only the impression of his merciless, mercury eyes. Deep down, she knows no harm will ever befall her, but in this moment, something primal presents itself.

Perhaps it is how his eyes bore into her very soul, to the very moment she was born several millennia ago. Or perhaps, she was just crazy about how his touch was driving her mad. She was very aware of the appendage that settled between the two of them and the way that her slick was coating it. His hands cup her cheek and slide down her neck and her head tilts back at the ticklish and yet pleasurable sensation. She swallows thickly and a broken sigh escapes her as his hand ghosts over her nipple.

Shivers bloom once more as his mouth incloses over the perk nipple, suckling at it in a way that has her legs wrapping around his waist. Her arms come up and snake over his shoulders, fingers gliding over the smooth marble-like skin, then resting behind his neck. One of her hands finds itself back into his hair, clenching as he gives continuous pleasure to her body.

Her hips buck up, her pussy clenching down on nothing. Cold fingers glide down the center of her stomach, going lower and lower until they cup her heat. A thumb gently circles her clit, understanding the overstimulation it recently received. They trace over her outer lips, downwards, then upwards again, coating themselves with a mixture of spit and arousal.

Morpheus removes himself from her breasts and presses his lips at the junction between her neck and shoulder. He licks at the sweat that accumulates on her collarbone and continues up her neck. When he faces her again, he speaks.

“Beg for it.” He commands.

Her Lady remains silent, slowly chewing on the inside of her lip, weighing the options in her head. Morpheus, as always, is patient and he continues running his fingers between her folds, keeping his pace but occasionally rubbing his pointer finger in circles around her clit. When she realizes that he really would just keep rubbing her and nothing else, she opens her mouth.

“P-please,” She stutters, the mere idea of begging or pleading foreign on her tongue. As a goddess, one would never allow such lowly behavior. Nevertheless how her husband will give her whatever she asks for.

Morpheus hums in approval, removing his hand to hold his dick instead. He rubs it this time in lieu of his fingers around her cunt and the goddess almost begs again. Before she can, a moan releases from both of them as he inserts himself into her and she whimpers at the familiar dull ache of being stretched out. Morpheus dips his head between her neck and shoulder again and remains stiff, feeling the warmth that only his wife can provide.

He pulls out and she mews beneath him in pleasure, ushering him to fill her up once again. Her cunt sucks him back and he wraps one of his arms underneath her waist to ground him. The other slams against the headboard of the bed, and he grabs on for all he is worth. His thrusts grow harder as her cries grow louder and he feels the way she clenches down on him.

“How divine you are, my love,” He says with a shaky breath, kissing more bruising hickeys that he hopes will last for millennia. He blows cold air over them and goosebumps rise in place, her back arching again and he can feel each perk nipple rubbing against his chest.

She moans his name again, losing herself in each drag of his cock, screaming curses when the head brushes against her sensitive spot, and whimpering when it kisses her cervix. Morpheus rises, looking down on his wife with half-lidded eyes, running a hand down between the valley of her breasts, feeling each desperate breath of air. He goes lower and groans when he sees how the two of them are connected.

Each thrust creates an unholy, slick noise and he can see the inflamed clit begging for attention. He presses his fingers on her lower stomach and she cries out for him.

“Can you feel me, my Queen?” He growls down at her, feeling the way his dick moves within her.

“Yes!” She cries back, her brows furrow and her cunt pulses around him, gripping him like a vice.

“Do you love me, my Queen?” He asks again.

“Yes!” She cries again. She starts begging again. Please, please, please, please. “Don’t stop, please my King. Please, don’t stop!”

“Will you tell me why you spoke with Phanes?” His last question.

Her eyes snap open, all the build up from her orgasm lost in the question. With her legs still around his waist, she twists her hips and topples Morpheus over until he is beneath her again.

“No,” She whispers, rocking her hips back and forth to regain the momentum they had lost.

This time, it is him who pleads. “Please,” He whispers back. His hands cup at the roundness of her ass cheeks, loving how soft they were.

She increases the ferocity of her grinds, looking down at her husband like he had just done with her. His head tosses back and she loves watching his Adam’s apple slide up and down his throat as he moans for her. His eyes are squeezed shut and his grip tightens but she doesn’t relent.

That familiar searing hot feeling appears again in her lower stomach and with one final grind she releases her orgasm all over him, falling onto his heaving chest. Morpheus cums right after, shooting his release into her in hot loads and she feels each jolt inside of her.

Her orgasm rocks through her body, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time. It tingles in her fingers and toes and when she closes her eyes, she sees the stars of the Dreaming shinging back at her. When she comes back to her senses (again) she can feel her husband’s hand running through her bed hair, untangling it as much as he could with the one hand. The other hand holds her waist flush with his. The two lovers share a quiet moment after their throw of passion before she speaks again.

“Phanes and I…” She starts, and she can feel Morpheus stiffen under her. She groans as his cock is still deep in her, semi-hard and the only thing keeping them together.

She shifts a bit and some of their combined release pool down onto his abdomen. He would never admit to her how filthy he thought it was, nor the fact that he loved it all the same.

“Yes?” Morpheus urges, looking down at her on his chest with full attention.

“We made a deal.” She finishes her sentence.

Everything stops as Morpheus sits up. “What deal did you strike? I can do it instead, terminate the deal at once, my love.” He says with anxiety.

His wife grabs onto him as she is rocked back and a smile appears on her face. “Morpheus, my love, you have done your part.” Her smile turns sad and a forlorn look cloaks her face and she casts her gaze downwards. “We just needed some extra help.”

A confused look crosses Morpheus’s face. He brings a hand to lift her chin to look at him. With the raise of an eyebrow, he doesn’t have to say anything for his wife to know he wants a better explanation.

“I asked for a child, Morpheus.”

When her husband remains quiet, her lips start to tug downwards and his heart lurches at the sight. Her waterline soon floods with tears.

“We have not been able to produce an heir once.” She says, voice wavering. She dares not to blink for she is afraid if a single tear were to fall, all of them would.

“What in return?” He asks.

“I look after his pet snake for a weekend.” She replies simply. Morpheus has returned to his previous position.

The tears start to fall, each fat drop hitting his skin seemingly striking him directly in the heart. “You need not worry, wife. This time it will take, with Phanes’s help or not.” He whispers into the crown of her head.

She nods once, sniffling as her nose starts to run, too. The rhythmic breathing below her and the continued brushing of her hair rocks her to a dreamless sleep. Morpheus wraps his arms protectively around her frame and should he have known, he would’ve stayed longer. He would’ve held her tighter, kissed her longer, and promised her that he would be there when she woke. Alas, there was a missing nightmare, rampaging through the waking world, something that was his responsibility as king.

When she wakes up the next morning, with a satisfying ache throughout her body, the bed was cold and empty, and her husband was nowhere to be seen. To say that this was new behavior would be a lie, unfortunately. The number of times that a night of passionate love-making ended in a cold and lonely morning was more than she could count on her fingers and toes. That isn’t to say that Morpheus didn’t want to stay in bed with her, it’s simply a sovereign that understands his responsibilities, and she could never blame her husband for that.

Avoiding the difficult conversation the two lovers shared last night, her Lady avoids the locations her husband is most likely to reside in. Instead, she chooses to look towards her duties in the Dreaming. She finds herself amongst a simple dream from a small farmer who looks after sheep, who struggles with getting their weight to increase during the harsh winters. Carefully, she admits herself to him, dressed in a light yellow dress, sunflowers decorating the fabric and her hair. Her hands were covered in dirt, and she held a shepherd’s crook that had a bell attached to the end.

The farmer looks up from his rocking chair, prized sheep chewing lazily around him, and smoke from his pipe circles him. His face was rough - old and wrinkled from long days in the sun during his youth. But she smiles gently at him when his laugh lines appear around the edges of his eyes and mouth.

She stands next to him and they stare out on his flock together. He shares his life story. The story of a young boy whose father was also a farmer, and his father before him, and his father before him. He talks about his first puppy, named Barkly, his first love, whom he lost after he was drafted into the First World War, and how he now finds solitude with his late wife’s grave and his grandchildren.

He mentions that he needs to fatten his sheep up for the winter as he can’t lose any more stock so he may afford medicine for his sick grandson. He confesses that he has tried everything and nothing seems to have worked. He looks up at her now, tired, and slumped over, and realization dawns on his face as she smiles down at him.

She whispers at him a simple solution, one he can’t quite hear over the muddle of a dream. He stands abruptly as her figure distorts, the dawn is rising and a farmer’s body rises with it. He thanks her - he offers a sheep for her, which she nods at before he wakes from his dream.

The goddess visits a few more dreams, each giving her ethereal presence. Some were like the one she was just at, some needed comfort from the loss of animals, and some dreamed of a new pet to have. By the 5th dream, she realizes that several days had passed in the waking world, and her husband was nowhere to be found.

She admits to herself that she had been avoiding him longer than she intends, but perhaps it was time to face him again. She teleports to the castle, summoning herself before the drawbridge of the magnificent building. The ivory dragon perks up at her arrival, but otherwise pays no attention to her, going back to hoarding its gold coins, a few of them falling when she crosses the large doors.

As always, the castle is slightly colder than what she likes. A small sense of deja vu encapsulates her as she walks to the all-familiar throne room. This time, however, it was empty. No figure on the throne, nor the stairs as he sometimes preferrs it. Odd, she thinks, but not impossible. So she turns a corner to the library, she often finds him here as well, looking over the books of his dreamers. She searches high and low, through each aisle and reading spot, but still nothing. Anxiety and thoughts of doubt begin to fill her. Perhaps she did mess up, making that deal with Phanes.

Her last stop was Cain and Able’s homes. She finds the two brothers in front of their own homes, tending to their garden and playing with the gargoyle that Morpheus had given them. The two were of no help as they were unable to answer something worthy of even a hint of where her husband was.

She rolls her eyes as the walk away from their homes was accompanied by the sound of a scream and the resolute bang of a metal shovel hitting a skull.

As her last resort, she calls for Lucienne. Often, she hopes to never bother her, understanding that the work she puts into maintaining the Dreaming is never-ending. And, she knew that if she were to ask something of her, Lucienne would stop everything to help her.

“His Lord left several nights ago to fetch the Corinthian,” She spoke, pushing up her round glasses.

“And since then?” She questions, her hands wringing with themselves. She hopes for an answer she knows she won’t get.

Lucienne shakes her head no. “My Lady, Jessamy hasn’t returned either. Perhaps his Lord is simply taking longer than usual.”

“Let us hope,” She says defeated.

For the next few months, the goddess stays within the Dreaming. Each day that passes, more hope was lost for her husband's return. Doubt and anxiety cloud her mind at the uncertain future.

She looks down at her stomach, a distinguishable bump had made its appearance and she rubs it gently with her hand. The deal with Phanes went through, she is with child. She should be happy right? Except for the obvious fact that Morpheus still had not returned.

Her cat lounges at her feet where she sits and she pets its head. With a trill, it looks at her, similar mercury eyes of her husband stares back. She had no choice but to find him herself.

“Go,” She asks of it. “Go to the waking world, find Morpheus.”

The cat sits up and stretches, hind high in the air. Its claws grips into the plush carpet it rests on. With another stretch to its lower back, it trots off, the jingling sounds of its bell disappearing as it crosses over to the waking world.

All the goddess could do was wait and hope. She runs another anxious hand across her stomach and a tear escapes her.

Lucienne had mentioned it to her in passing a few days ago. The librarian stated that it probably was nothing to worry about, but the conversation had stuck with the goddess since.

The Dreaming is dying.

As much as the Dreaming is hers through marriage, it is suffering without its true ruler in the realm. She could see it in the dying leaves and small cracks of the castle. The ivory dragon that rests above the castle has gotten more restless in the past few weeks. And despite her best efforts to comfort the animal, the dragon did not listen to the Goddess of Husbandry.

This brings up a second concern of hers. The child she carries is as much a part of her as it is the Dreaming’s. It embodies a part of the Dream Lord and if the Dreaming is suffering, there stands to reason that her husband is suffering as well. If both of these entities are suffering, what is to happen to her child?

This child that she already loves until she is forgotten and nothing but stardust and she had been asking for centuries. This child that Morpheus is finally ready to love after the untimely death of his son. She must find Morpheus, and soon.

For the sake of the Dreaming and her child.

Several more weeks pass and her cat had yet to come back. She only hopes that it was due to the difficulty of finding an Endless and not because it got distracted with a family whose heart was big enough to take in a “stray” cat. Each day that passes, she grows significantly weaker. The prayers of her followers still ring in her ears, but she could not leave the Dreaming to help her devotees.

Another war broke out among the humans, the one they call World War II. Less and fewer people were crossing over into the dreaming and slowly, the once beautiful realm was losing its colors. The goddess couldn’t stop the residents of the realm from leaving its gates, the Dreaming was no longer a place they wished to stay. Furthermore, there weren’t enough dreamers for them to bother staying. She only remains thankful for those who decided to stay.

She sits on Morpheus’ throne, the castle colder than ever. Behind her, the once beautiful stained glass had shattered. The Corinthian had still not been captured, or else her husband would have been home and Fiddler’s Green had decided to leave. She runs a hand through her hair at the issues that seem to keep piling up. As she ignores her prayers, her powers start to wane. Fewer and fewer people were still believing in her.

And how could she blame them? She hasn’t made herself present in any of their prayers and with the war, people were less concerned about animals and more about themselves. She sighs.

A sharp pain yanks her out of her thoughts and a scream rips from her throat. She doubles over from the throne and kneels, hunching over on the floor. The pain spreads across her lower abdomen and a shaking hand holds her stomach. Immediately she knew something was wrong and it involved the safety of her child.

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, too focused on staying conscious. The throne room was empty, her fall echoed around and bounced across the wide walls. When she thought the pain was over, she took in a large breath, inhaling shakily in gulps.

Salvation lasts a few seconds before another wave of pain overwhelms her. It wraps around her like a hot blanket on a sweltering day, sticking to her skin and making her overstimulated. Too much was happening at once and it was almost too hard to bear.

“Lucienne!” She screams between cramps. Tears fall in fat drops onto the floor and wets the hand propping her up.

Lucienne appears quickly, followed closely by Mervin. Hands grab at her weak body and hoist her back onto the throne. Where she had fallen, blood pooled and more fell from between her legs.

Her whole body shakes with shivers and a whimper leaves her.

“My Lady,” Lucienne says with concern. The librarian couldn’t stop from staring at the growing pool of blood below her.

“What do we do?” Mervin asks. Even though he was a glorified janitor, constructor, and destructor for the Dreaming, he didn’t know how to fix this.

“Call for Phanes,” Their Lady said weakly. Sweat begins to appear like morning dew across her forehead. For once, she was grateful for the cool temperature.

“Mervin, take her to his Lord’s chambers,” Lucienne instructs. She doesn’t stay to watch as she sprints to the library.

She flips through leather-bound books, old and new until she finds the correct summoning spell she was looking for. The loyal librarian could only hope that a god would listen to a dream like her.

She hauls the large book into the room her Lady lays in. Labored breathing came from both women, although for two vastly different reasons.

“Forgive me, my lady, but I require your assistance,” Lucienne said next to the goddess’ bed.

The goddess gives her a hand limply and Lucienne starts chanting the words on the page while holding her cold fingers. The wind whirls around them and Mervin holds onto his pumpkin head to not have it knocked off.

Lucienne finishes the spell and looks down. Her Lady was glowing with power but she could not have looked any more weak. Nothing happens for a few bated breaths, only the sound of howling wind around them. Then nothing, not even the sound of crickets could be heard.

Enters Phanes, golden and warm like the sun. He materializes in a cloud of golden dust. He slams his staff down, and his golden snake slithers up from under his robes.

“Who dares summon m-”

“Lord Phanes,” Lucienne interrupts, something she knows she would be punished for, if not for the more important matter at hand.

A glare is thrown her way and softens at the familiar face. Phanes’ eyes travel across the intertwined fingers and land on his friend.

Weak eyes open and meet his. The godly figure is almost too much to stare directly at.

As if understanding what was happening to his friend, he drops the golden light he had been shining. The Dreaming returns to its cold blue, and it was just two deities and two dreams in understanding.

“A new deal,” Phanes announces and the goddess wants to weep again. Judging by how her husband acted the last time she had done this, she was going to be doomed. But the decision was easily made.

“Anything,” she whispers. Her eyelids are starting to feel heavy. She had delivered countless calves, kittens, and cubs, but never another deity. Was she supposed to feel this weak?

Silky scales slide across her feverish skin and she is face to face with Phanes’ serpent.

“Give your child to him, he will keep them safe until they may come to fruition. Until then, you must look after the serpent as if it is of your blood.”

The goddess could barely pay attention but understood in a way without words. She nods in agreement and the relief begins almost immediately.

Pain seeps out of her body, slow, like molasses and her body starts to glow again. Lucienne shields her eyes and peeks through her fingers. The goddess’ stomach glows and deflates.

A small glowing ball releases itself from the warmth of her womb, its dim light is warm and lights the room like a lantern on a foggy night. A weak hand cups it and it sits in the palm of its mother.

“Hello, darling son,” She whispers. The ball stays still, a small high-pitched noise emitting from itself.

The goddess smiles. “Darling daughter, then?” This time, the ball bounces gently a few times in response but otherwise doesn’t do anything.

The golden serpent is slowly making its way up the arm that holds the glowing orb. A tongue flicks out and smells it. Then with a nod from the goddess, the serpent unhinges its mouth and swallows the child whole. The light shines through the crevices of its eyes and ears as it makes its way down the serpent's throat. Eventually, the light dissipates and the serpent looks all the same, save for the bulge in its stomach.

A sense of longing borrows itself into her chest where her heart lies. Quite literally, the light disappears right in front of her. Physically, her pain had been removed, only the dried blood between her legs reminded her of what had happened just moments prior. And yet, a dull pain resides. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, but she could feel it behind her eyes and how it lodges in her throat.

Her gaze is unfocused as she pets the golden snake, her golden snake now, her child. For the rest of the night, she rests and Phanes leaves without a word. Lucienne stays by her side the whole time, eyes only moving when the serpent shifts. Mervin went back to work after a few hours, the castle’s foundation still cracking under their feet. He left with a sorrowful look, well, as sorrowful as a pumpkin head could be.

As the sun rises the next day, the goddess wakes up to not only the snake by her side but the librarian and her long awaited cat. Lucienne wakes up at the first shift that her Lady makes and stands.

“Let me draw you a bath,” She said before any debate.

“Lucienne,” Her Lady calls after her anyway in rejection. All of her handmaidens had left. They were only there to help the goddess under the instruction of the Dream Lord who created them. Without him here, no one would punish them for leaving and not attending his wife.

Still, the librarian doesn’t listen and disappears into the joined bathroom. Meanwhile, the goddess looks down at her cat and raises an eyebrow. It has certainly gotten fatter. And a new name tag was attached to his collar next to his bell.

“Buttons,” She said out loud, reading the new name. At that, the cat perks up and stares back at her disappointed face. “You got distracted on your mission didn’t you?”

She pets his rounder stomach and scratches his head. “Well, they certainly loved you…” The hidden passive-aggressive message was evident.

The cat, now Buttons, doesn’t bother with a response. Instead, it lays back down, flicking its tail aggressively at her comment.

She rolls her eyes. “Did you locate his Lord?”

Buttons rolls onto his back and stretches, belly exposing to her, and opens his mouth in a yawn. “Burgess Manor,” He says and turns his body away from her.

Finally, an answer. She throws the blanket off her body and goes to stand. She looks at her closet, thinking of what to wear to the waking world to retrieve her husband.

“My Lady!” Lucienne exclaims as she walks out of the bathroom. The goddess looks over at her and notices her staring at her dress. She looks down as well and remembers all of the blood that she spilled last night. It had caked itself into the fabric and was still crusted on the inside of her legs.

The librarian’s shock was still on her face when she realizes that her Lady fully intends to go to the waking world looking like that, having overheard the conversation between her and the cat. Lucienne insists she take a bath first and that she would find something for her to wear.

Her Lady doesn’t disagree and disappears into the steaming bathtub that was made for her. She doesn’t regret it for a second the moment she steps in. The warmth was comforting like a mother huddling to keep its cub warm. The water washes away the filths of yesterday and within the embrace of the water, she finally cries.

It’s not a gentle cry, it is hiccups and gasping for breath. The pain of yesterday that she felt behind her eyes and in her throat spills out. Her bathwater which used to smell of apples and cinnamon now turns into a maroon as her blood washes out. It starts to smell of iron and salt and it reminds her of war.

Her hand runs over her stomach and a whimper leaves her again at the lack of the bump she had grown so accustomed to. Logically, she knows that her child, no her daughter, was safe. But, one would have to admit that having their daughter in the stomach of a serpent was a bit unnerving.

A golden head peaks at her over the side of the ceramic bathtub and flicks out its tongue.

She sniffs the last of her tears away and pets its head with her index finger. “I’m sorry for leaving you already, dear daughter.”

The serpent’s stomach had grown twice as large since last night and since this is new territory for her, she must make haste so she may be back in the dream to witness the birth of her daughter.

Before she left, though, she walks into the castle gardens and gets to work. From her fingertips she grows a birch tree, its white branches and muted green leaves fit right into the dying realm around them. She sprouts flowers and brushes for scenery and a bed made of straw under a tunnel that she dug out.

The golden serpent follows her and slithers up her body, wrapping around her curves. When its head was next to hers, it let out a rattling-like noise in agreement with the small open enclosure the goddess had made for it. It slides back down her body and makes it home in the tunnel.

“Mommy will be back,” She whispers to it when it settles in and gives it a quick peck on the top of its head. It flicks its tongue at her and moves further into its nest.

The goddess stands back up and dusts off any dirt that could have gotten on her dress. Lucienne helps her pick out an appropriate attire for the waking world. Something she wouldn’t personally wear, but it certainly helps to blend in with the mortals. She quickly had to locate her husband. After all, she has no idea how long it takes for a snake to incubate a child.

It was easy to find the Burgess Manor when she arrives in the waking world. Everyone who was anyone spoke about the grand magus who managed to capture the devil in his basement. That the devil had granted him eternal life and some other rumors. All she had to do was flaunt a smile and go where the fingers pointed.

The rumors, of course, were mere rumors. The devil? No. Without knowing it, Rodrick Burgess managed to capture something even more powerful. How he had managed to keep him captured was a different question entirely and the goddess had a sneaking suspicion that he had some help.

It was nightfall when she arrives at the gates of the manor. Thousands of people clamor in the front garden, talking amongst themselves. Suddenly, the clothing she had worn was not fit for the environment she was walking into. Using a little bit of her powers, she changes the outlook of her clothing into something else. It was a bit more formal, growing longer and softer to the touch. However, if someone were to squint and stare hard enough, they would be able to see the original dress she had worn.

She weaves her way to the front and listens carefully to the words around her.

“I had arrived this morning, my feet are killing me.”

“Ha, me as well. But anything to get into the manor. I want to see what the Great Magus is hiding.”

“Not to mention the party of your lifetime!” They joke together.

Someone taps her on her shoulder. Another young man was waiting to be let in.

“You are a new face,” He comments and takes her hand. He presses his lips to the back of it. She takes her hand back and wipes it away on the back of her dress while keeping a smile.

“Yes, I wish to see the Great Magus himself.” She half-lies through her teeth. The young gentleman offers an arm to her which she reluctantly takes. Perhaps he will be the key to getting into the manor.

The doors of the manor open and people slowly trickle in. She peers over shoulders into the manor but couldn’t immediately find anything of note that would be dangerous. The warmth of the building fans over her as she enters through the large doors and a breath of relief escapes her.

“Isn’t it everything you could ever dream of?” The gentleman asks. He looks down at her with a smile.

She looks around, the manor was certainly lively. Foods of all kinds sprawl out on tables, fresh flowers almost too sweet to smell, and candlelight flickers and dances from the sudden wind. There were some party tricks as well, the flames seem to sparkle a bit more, bubbles were floating around in the air without popping, and the statues follows her with their eyes. But, they were all small party tricks, nothing to indicate this holier-than-thou man.

Through the buzz of it all, she could feel it. The string of fate that connects her to her husband. It was faint, but it was there and she knew she was in the right place. She just had to find out where.

A man emerges on the top of the stairs to the second floor and opens his arms in a flourish. She frowns at him because there he was, Rodrick Burgess, the man who took her husband. By the end of tonight, she promises herself, there will be no Rodrick Burgess.

“Ow, dang you’ve got a grip on you,” She breaks eye contact with Rodrick when her escort for the evening exclaims out. She releases the iron grip she had wrapped around his lower arm and apologizes.

“I am terribly sorry,” She apologizes. “Actually, I am parched, can you be a gentleman and fetch me some lemonade?” She bats her eyelashes and gives a smile. His face lights up in a blush and runs off to fetch her the lemonade she wants.

As soon as he was out of eyesight, the goddess began moving. She moves between bodies like wind on the beachfront - gracefully, wistfully, but with purpose. She uses her senses to locate where her husband could be. It was like an invisible dance.

When the sense weakens she backtracks, when it strengthens she moves forward. She was so lost in her quest that she almost did not register when she ran into a wool-covered chest. Surprise overtook her face as she looks up, ready to apologize and continue on her way. But she stops when she realizes that the man she bumps into is the very host of the party.

“Rodrick Burgess,” She says almost breathlessly. Oh, how she wants to commit a grievous crime to this mortal.

The old man chuckles above her and grabs onto her shoulders. His fingers are cold when they come into contact with her bare skin and she wants to cringe away from his touch, but he holds on strong.

“You seem like a curious creature, my little dove,” He comments and starts to walk. Without much room to budge, she is reluctant to follow him.

“Yes,” She drawls out much like how Morpheus tends to do. She suddenly acts with interest when she realizes that the bond strength between her and her husband increases. She holds on tighter and presses her body against his arm.

“I heard that the great Magus kept the devil in the basement of his manor. Can we see it?” She fakes a supple voice and looks up at him with an innocent smile.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think a small thing such as yourself would want to see the devil.”

“No!” She belts out, a bit too quickly. But she recovers smoothly. “What I mean to say is, I am far too excited to see him. Please don’t deny me this one pleasure Great Magus.”

“How loathsome,” She thinks to herself.

“Very well, I can’t deny you anything if you keep looking at me like that.” He confirms.

Rodrick Burgess leads her away from the party, down a long and quiet hallway. It is decorated with antique and rare collectibles. The older man talks about each one, dragging on his time that leads to her husband, but she nods along anyway.

She had waited decades to be in the arms of her husband again, a few more minutes surely wouldn’t hurt. Soon, she is led to a dark and demanding set of double doors. Locks and bolts seal it from top to bottom. With a nod of Rodrick’s head, the guards stationed outside open the door slowly and a cold air seeps out and blows her hair back. The basement smells musty of old water and stale air. A cough emits from further down the stairs and she frowns.

“Scared yet, child?” Rodrick says to her mockingly.

She only shakes her head no as she continues down the steps.

The smell grows stronger as she gets closer and she can also make out a small portion of dirt and sand amidst it all. Despite it, the air was crisp and cold, suitable for a stone basement.

A light emits from the end of the long staircase downwards and she can’t stop her jaw unhinging as she finally sets her eyes on her husband. Tears well up in her eyes as they dart across the room.

Arches supported the basement throughout the floor and a moat still separates between her and her husband. A singular fluorescent light is cast on him in a glass prison as if he were some circus animal on display. Below the glass prison were some sort of gold runic markings and even from far away, she could feel the real magic emitting from them.

Rodrick releases her hold on him and turns to the two guards on duty that night. “You two may go,” He instructs, and the two leave without debate.

At the sound of his voice, Dream opens his eyes but remains in his laid position. His gaze pierces into his corrupt heart, if he even had one left, but quickly notices his wife by his side. With this, he sits up and gently places a hand on the glass barrier.

“Would you look at that!” Rodrick boasts. “He moves, he doesn’t do that much. Perhaps he has feelings for a pretty thing like you.”

The goddess doesn’t hear him and walks up to the glass cage in a trance. How does she free him? Tears fall restlessly down her face and her stature dejects. She snaps out of her trances on the small bridge above the stagnant water when a rough hand squeezes her upper arms.

“Stop, you must not get any closer. He is trying to seduce you into releasing him!” Rodrick hashes out between gritted teeth.

She opens her mouth to tell him something, anything, to release her husband but stops when she hears Dream’s voice again.

“Wife,” He calls simply and her body fills with all of the love and adoration she had been missing for decades.

Rodrick’s grip tightens at his voice, the first time he remembers hearing it. With a shocked face, he looks down at the woman in his grip. “Wife?!” He screams at her furiously.

She takes a deep breath and steels herself, ripping herself away from his bruising grip, and stands between him and her husband. The tears had dried and only anger left in its wake.

“The one before you is Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, Mother of Agriculture and Protector of Animals, Saint of Farmers, Queen of the Dreaming, wife of Dream of the Endless. You face me now, mortal.”

Wind swirls, somehow, in the basement but it is the least of Rodrick’s worries. He plants himself firmly as the wind picks up and sand envelops the two of them in a vortex of anger.

“I have captured something more than a god! I have an Endless!” He points a finger at her, eyes scrutinizing. “What makes you think you can defeat me? The Great Magus Rodrick Burgess?”

Walking a few steps forward, her shepherd’s crook materializes in her hand, the bell jingling violently in the wind. Her extremities start to glow their familiar light as she musters power. She points the staff at Rodrick as billets of wheat start growing around his feet and crawl up his legs, the nice wool of his pants long forgotten against the harsh stalks of the plants. The plants bloom as it sucks the life away from the very thing they grew on.

Rodrick starts chanting in Greek.

“Prostasía,” He chokes out. “Prostasía.” He chants again and he breathes easier. “Prostasía.” He chants one more time and he’s back to standing at his full height. The plants that were wrapped around him wither away and fell into dust, sucked into the sand vortex around them.

The goddess frowns, she did not realize how much power she had lost until now when a simple protection chant could stave off her attacks. Rodrick lunges at her, hands open and clawed, ready to grab onto any piece of her clothing. In turn, she slams her crook into the ground and a fissure opens up, but not before he can shove her further and her body slams into the wall of the glass prison. The fissure separates the two opponents away from each other and Rodrick steps back before he falls into the Earth.

She braces herself on the glass wall at the impact and loses her breath for a moment. She could feel the warmth of her husband’s hand and she turns away from Rodrick to look at him. His hand was aligned with her own, so close, only inches apart.

“The runes, my love,” Morpheus tells her. She looks down at looks at the graphics that surround them, the sand had erased some of it through the abrasive nature of itself. The magic within the runes would still be strong if not for the defiant smudge she creates with her foot, just in time for the fissure to finish opening. With a final look at her husband, she walks closer to the fissure, pulling the sand vortex smaller so it was just her and Rodrick again.

From the fissure glows a golden light, soft and merciful but quickly overshadowed by the growing dust. The light expands as the golden serpent which holds her daughter emerges. It had grown in size since the last time she had seen it. Its length and mass have nearly tripled in size and the baby bulge it used to flaunt was now merely a small bump.

Rodrick’s stare grows higher and higher as the snake continues to emerge, it stares at the man, tongue flicking angrily at him for daring to harm the goddess. The snake lunges, all fangs and dripping venom, its large scales clattering against each other like gold coins. Rodrick moves to the side and the serpent misses. It hisses in retaliation and comes around again, this time wrapping its body around the legs of the Great Magus.

Panic sets in as the serpent starts to constrict around the man and he can feel his pulse pounding against his head and the blood circulation gets cut off. The bones in his knees pop as they press together.

“Father!” A young boy’s voice screams across the vortex and the goddess sees a glint of silver cross into the vortex arena.

The serpent is halfway up Rodrick’s body when the goddess notices the sharp dagger that Rodrick now possesses. He rises it high in the air and with a large gasp plunges it into the flesh of the serpent. The golden scales provide little to no protection against the artifact.

“No!” She screams and takes a step forward, only to be stopped by the protective tail of the serpent.

The metal hisses as it melts against the golden scales, melting the scales together until they become smooth around the wound. Rodrick slides again and again until the weapon becomes too slippery with blood and he loses grip. The snake is now a mosaic of gold and red as it tightens one last time.

“Curse… you…” Rodrick strains out, his face turning purple as the last bit of air leaves him. The serpent weakens and falls in a slump like an inanimate rope and the sand around them falls like rain.

The goddess leaps over the fissure and after making sure the man is dead runs to the head of the golden serpent. Its eyes were dim, mouth agape as its muscles weakens and she can no longer feel it breathing on her skin when she places a hand above its nostrils.

“No, no no,” She mumbles to herself. She grabs her dress up and away from her feet as she makes her way down the length of the serpent. When she reaches where she last saw the small baby bump, she runs her hand along its underside, soon becoming slick with cooling blood.

She finds a particular cut that was deeper than normal and when she sticks her hand in there, they grab around a small appendage. A cry of relief leaves her lips as she digs deeper. She pulls her baby from the dying body and cradles it to her body. Golden scale imprints are decorated across her arms and legs and a few more along the spine of her back.

Her breath hiccups as silence fills the air. She pats her daughter’s back and wipes her mouth clean and panic seeps into her bones when still she remains quiet.

Morpheus appears behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turns to him, tears streaking down her neck.

“Crying, why-why isn’t she crying?!” She wails and clutches her child harder against her chest.

Morpheus hugs her from behind and holds the two of them to his chest.

“Y/N,” He calls her name, her real name. Not her titles, or what the mortals call her, but the name given to her since her creation.

She weeps into his form, salty tears mixing with blood and the amniotic fluid that covers her child. Her tears fall into her daughter’s mouth and feed into the child her grief, regret, and guilt as well as the hope she still had in her.

A soothing hand pets her and the silence disappears. Loud wailing comes from below and her eyes shoot open. Her daughter was finally crying, her hands in fists as they move around in the air.

“Praises,” She sobs again, this time tears of joy. Her child's eyes peel open and smiles as she grabs at her mother’s hair.

Morpheus smiles, a rare one, all teeth showing as he touches his daughter’s head gently. The three, now a family, return home to the Dreaming. There will be more to do, especially for Morpheus but for now, a small victory lies within the hope that is their daughter.

Extra:

“Well I’ll be baffled, bamboozled, and befuddled,” Phanes says, hands on his hip and his staff leaning against one of the walls of the basement.

He stares at his serpent covered in dried blood and dearly departed, lying alone on the cold basement floor.

“Look at how they massacred my boy!” He screams to no one in particular, arms out in disbelief.

He lets out a huff and crosses his arms. “I’ll let you borrow my snake, blah, blah, blah, take care of it like it’s your own, meh, meh, meh,” He mocks.

Phanes runs a hand across the top of the snake’s head and watches as the dried blood rehydrates and moves thickly back into the cuts. The gnashes done by the weapon stitch itself back close and the gold scales return to their original form.

The snake shrinks smaller and smaller until it is back to its original size. At which, it perks up and flicks a tongue out in thanks to its god.

“All right, let’s go,” Phanes says with a sigh as if this was a mundane chore. He extends out a hand for the serpent to slither up to.

“I am never making a deal with those two ever again, that was crazy.” He says to his snake.

The snake flicks its tongue again and rattles the scales on its back.

“Ohh, that’s nice that she made you an enclosure.” He responds, then remains silent as the snake says something else. “What do you mean she forgot to put mice in the enclosure for you to eat?!”

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus x reader smut #the sandman #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless #dream #dream x reader #dream x reader smut #angst with a happy ending #light angst #the sandman fanfic #morpheus x wife!reader #morpheus x wife reader #dream of the endless smut #dream of the endless x reader

137 notes · View notes

minty-mumbles · 8 months

Text

Linked Universe Survey 2023

The long awaited results of the survey. Sorry it took me forever, making graphs is hard.

There were 452 responses to the survey as a whole, which is almost double what we got last year, so thank you to everyone who participated!

If you want to see the raw data, you can find that here. I had thoughts about the data, but compiling that into another post would be too much of a hassle. Feel free to send me asks about it though!

The rest of the post will be under a read more as it it large

Demographics

Other: Demigirl (4), Transmasc (3), Grey genderfluid, Unlabeled, Demiboy, Demiagender

Other: Omnisexual (4), Poly (2), Trixic, Abroromantic or Bellusromantic, Demisexual

General Questions

Other: Quotev, Discord, their own google docs

Other: Discord, Variations of "I haven't posted yet, but I pan to" and "I haven't posted my fics in ages",

Other: Wattpad, Deviantart, Discord

Other: Crochet dolls, Custom dolls, Roleplay blogs (2), Fan translations, Headcanons (2), Piano music

The purple section in the “Warriors vs Warrior” chart is supposed to read “Warrior.” I made a typo.

Favorites and Least Favorites

Selected Free Response Answers

im sorry warriors i just can't play your game (it is very very hard. i am stuck very early on in the game)

I love cats meow meow meow

was extremely tempted to put twilight for least favorite. unfortunately he is my favorite to write from the perspective of (he has taken over most of my wips. help) and that probably counts for something. WILD on the other hand. hooo boy how the hell do i characterize this gargoyle. why is he Like That. least favorite it is

Twiddy

very good fandom to be in :) everybody is very nice

It's a straight up crime that Wars lost the aesthetics poll so quickly. He has such a peak Link design with the best colors. Ugh I'm getting wistful.

FROGS. FROGS. FROGS. ALSO HAPPY PRIDE MONTH. FROGS. FROGS. FROGS. FROGS. FROGS.

I will fight Hylia herself and the next person who implies Twi can't handle spice. If we're going to lean into him being southern/Midwestern, which is an alright stero type for our rancher, please keep in mind the culture you're basing him off. The south and midwest can handle their spice, I assure you. Have you ever had authentic Louisiana gumbo? It will melt you tongue off. Or some good old fashion spicy fried chicken? I promise the real stuff has quite a kick. (In all seriousness, though. It's more important that you're having fun. And even I can admit the idea of Twi being an Ordonian who can't handle his spice is more than a little funny.)

I am an OoT Link edgelord and have been since early 2017. So, in September of that year, when an artist by the name of jojo56830 puts out a lineup of nine different Links and the Hero of Time is there – the oldest, no eye, Hero’s Shade armor? I saw that one sketch and just thought “oh this is gonna be bad.” Yeah of course he has the coolest design. By the way, it’s only a matter of time until Fierce Deity shows up in the comic and I have reason to believe it could be this current Dawn arc. Dawn … Dawn of a New Day … and who brought about the Dawn of a New Day? Fierce Deity. Twilight is recovering but still injured and what will happen if he falls again? Fierce Deity is coming and we need to be prepared. In this essay I will—

Remember that time when someone put the whole script of the bee movie in here? I’m not that dedicated, and I don’t have that time, but let us remember and hope someone else does it again this time. Cause someone is bound too. We’re all crazy enough to do it. Alright, love you and stay hydrated pls!

Hi! I joined this fandom really recent but i’ve always seen LU stuff on pinterest and elsewhere. Only recently have i actually took the time to understand the fandom and get back into LOZ stuff and i adore the characters and story! The more and more fanart, fanfics, and comics i see about the different Links the more i love them all. It’s such a pain to pick just one i like or one i don’t like because they’re all so unique. I love this fandom and hope to get more involved!! Have a wonderful rest of your day :]

Epona is an underrated queen

your mom

I really don't get why Zelda is called Artemis. Athena makes more sense???? It perplexes me

Anyone seeing this should check out Breanna’s E!Wild AU

Something something queer every Link into oblivion!

#linked universe #lu survey 2023 #lu wild #lu twilight #lu time #lu warriors #lu legend #lu wind #lu hyrule #lu four #lu sky

330 notes · View notes

comradeboyhalo · 6 months

Text

I had wrote a post a month ago about q!Bad's role in the narrative, and I want to revisit it. (Full disclaimer, this is just Not Real. I'm analyzing mcrp like a conventional narrative for fun. There are no actual "roles": every character is a main character.)

The analysis had come after months of Bad being a large part of lore, but not a major player. The mysteries and missions he went on were never his own. He was known as a strong fighter, until the codes directed their attention at Etoiles. He was second place in the election. Characters would get kidnapped or given enigmas, and q!Bad always played support. At the time, we were all impatient that he had no special Federation plotline after months of arriving on the island (no shade to the admins here - we're not talking meta).

But that brings us to present day, and suddenly Bad has become a very proactive character. His kids are gone, he has a motive, and suddenly he's the one changing the story. In literature, there is the trope of a "passive character": one that is affected by the story, one who is led by the plot. q!Bad is certainly not this character anymore. Instead of letting the Federation set the scene, he takes a page out of their book. He kidnaps one of theirs. Instead of theorizing about a spy like he did months ago, he's now actively feeding information to others to find a puppet. His skin is deteriorating due to his self-inflicted punishment. There has been a spike in posts and tweets about how Bad did [x] to [y] character. And that's what I'm talking about: Bad is moving his own plot. He is now what others react to.

And still. This is not Federation-designed. This is all on his hands. It's very rare that QSMP characters are so untouched by the Federation. Many characters are punished by the Federation. Many characters discover a storyline tied to the Federation. Many characters are experiments of the Federation. Bad has none of this. And I'm not at all saying this is unique to Bad, or that Bad is the only one who's actively moving his own plot, I just think that this provides a really interesting insight to Bad's character. (Again: this is a NON-META analysis! Every creator writes/helps writes their own storylines).

He is an extremely insular character. The Federation only investigated him when he made himself too hard to ignore. Aside from that? They do nothing. Secret shulker boxes? They were tied to Cellbit's lore. The tickets? Everyone ended up getting one. Imprisonment? Okay, but only for 15 minutes. He remembers his backstory, he remembers his life before the island. While the Federation could have interfered anytime in his lifetime, he's over 11,000 years old. His core trauma stems from (presumably) Atlantis. None of that is connected at all to the Federation. Drop q!Bad in another server, and nothing about his backstory changes. The more I think about it, the more odd it strikes me that Bad is an original islander, and he is so untouched by the Federation.

So this brings us to Bad's biggest Federation tie, which are the emails from before the server started. And even then, it implies that Bad is not a worker or an experiment, but a guest. And a special one, at that. It's very hard to take the emails as any definitive evidence, but what stands out to me is this quote:

"We are seeking quotes for the purchase of 1393 muffins to satisfy the extra demand of our special guest."

Each word here is the Federation catering to the special guest. The Federation has been given a demand, and they are fulfilling it. They are the reactionary party here. They are not the ones pulling the strings. They are not penning this story. It is the guest who is doing so, and, in theory, q!Bad.

So we come back to the same conclusion. Perhaps this has always been Bad's "role" - the special guest of Quesadilla Island. Invited to sit at the table, but not to give a speech. Perhaps he just never is going to get that Federation-tailored storyline because he is not meant to. His story started in Atlantis and he will always be pushing forward his own already-established plot. The Federation is just another antagonist in an already long, long tale. Everything he does is self-inflicted. Doesn't it make sense if this applies to the narrative as well?

#qsmp #badboyhalo #analysis

176 notes · View notes

whynotjohnlock · 1 month

Note

Hello! If it’s no trouble to ask could you write a platonic fic or headcanons for good omens?

Like where it’s Aziraphale x Crowley x teen!reader

Maybe something like how would it be to have them as parental figures/parents?

Anyways I hope you have a good rest of your evening!!

(and if you don’t mind could you add something in there about how they’d react if the reader ever came out to them? If not I totally understand!!)

A/N: I love the idea of Aziraphale and Crowley as parents! You didn't really specify what the reader was coming out as, so I made them non-binary, as that's what is most relatable to me!

In the beginning of the story the child is a girl, and they eventually figure out that they aren't a girl at all and tells our favorite angel and demon couple.

P.S (O/N) means old name and (Y/N) means Your current name

----------------------------------------------------------

Crowely had never been more angry in his entire life as when he first met (Y/N). Rage burned in his demonic blood and his mellow yellow eyes flickerd into a poisonous red. The only thing stopping him from calling thunder from the sky and creating mass destruction was those little innocent eyes he had met on that sorrowful day.

-Flashback-

Aziraphale had just started to reorganize the book shop, as he did every decade when the papers and memoirs and novels got mixed up beyond the ability to find them. Crowley knew Aziraphale. Without words, without any indication, he knew that the angel would get tired and would want some pastries to snack on before noon. They had been friends for eons together and words were not necessary to convey thought between the pair. Crowley went out to get some pastries because he liked to see the angel's face become soft and happy. The demon loved the way his angel's eyes seemed to cut through any darkness or pain he held.

Just the thought of Aziraphale seemed to brighten his day and a small unnoticeable smile formed on Crowley's face. Mentally he had scolded himself for being a lovesick aardvark and finally got the strength to leave the couch and swagger walk™ out of his flat's door.

A happy juant to his other beloved parked right next to the bookshop and a nice drive latter he arrived to a newly opened bakery.

The bakery itself was rather dull, and he hadn't even cared enough to remember it's name. The whole experience was rather annoying as the shopkeeper kept talking to him when he wanted to order. He stood there for what felt like ages- which considering his age was 6000+ was quite the achievement- bored and annoyed. Couldn't the shopkeeper see he was completely uninterested in conversation? While the shopkeeper was busy ranting on about the economy, the window clicked open on noticed by everyone but him.

From his periphery and under his designer black shades, a small girl that caught his attention as he watched them sneak in through the window soundlessly.

The child silently went up to one of the display racks with croissants and started stuffing them into a little brown worn out backpack to eat later. Whoever this child was, it was clear to Crowley that they would have to be very brave or very desperate or possibly both the rob a bakery in broad daylight.

Still, the shopkeepers were not the wiser as the little gremlin continued to steal their day supply bread and it appeared they would be able to escape unnoticed.

Then the floor creaked, and all eyes turn to the little girl furious and angry. "Thief! Thief! Somebody get her!" The man running the register shouted. In surprise the girl dropped her bag of food and make a run for it.

Crowley always had a soft spot for kids and it was no surprise really to anyone who had actually known him like Aziraphale, that he miracled a chair in the way of the shopkeeper so he 'accidentally' tripped and little girl could getaway.

Falling down in pain the angry man shouts "Ugh, I hate that girl! it's the third time this week! If she does that again I'll call the police to take her away!"

All respect gone for the man working the desk, Crowley decides to order three sandwiches instead of the usual two. Once the food is in his hands, he sets off to find the crafty little thief.

It only really takes 5 minutes for Crowley to find thief girl walking streets alone. "Hey kiddo, you lost?"

The girl looks up at him and surprise and then fear like a broken animal, and from her lips tumble a simple "No mister."

His heart aches, and to appear less threatening he gets down on one knee. "Hey it's all right kiddo I'm not going to hurt you. I even brought you some food."

Crowley gives the tiny human one of the sandwiches to prove he's not a threat. The girl blinks at him and then blinks again and then devours the sandwich like it's the first food she's had in weeks.

Actually, looking at her now it might be. This is the first time Crowley's been able to really observe her and from what he can see it's almost certain she's in a rough situation- which reminds him he hasn't even asked her name yet. "What's your name kiddo?"

The girl blinks once more. "(O/N)"

He hesitates. He doesn't want hell to find out he helped a small defenseless child and certainly doesn't want hastor to use the girl to get him. He looks down at the poor innocent girl who has already finished the sandwich and is eating crumbs off the floor. "I'll walk you home, just show me where you live."

(O/N) nods simply, before taking his hand and walking Eastward for a couple of blocks. She stops at the intersection between two houses. 'Maybe she needs to go in the back door?' Crowley thinks to himself. Alas, despite working for hell, his gut wasn't quite prepared for the twisting sensation when he sees (O/N) gesture to a pile of cardboard boxes.

"This is my super cool box fort!" She says truly proud of her creation and happy, as if this was an okay way of living. "Let me give you the tour!" All Crowley can do is nod dumbly as she excitedly explains her home.

"This is where I sleep! Oh, and this is where I look at the stars through my telescope." Her 'telescope' is a clear glass bottle attached to a thrown out tripod stand. "And this is where-"

Crowley is heartbroken and can't take anymore. He cuts the girl off in a gentle sad tone, "where are your parents kiddo?"

"My parents? Umm, mummy and daddy dropped me off and said they'd be back in an soon."

"When was that kiddo?" Crowley's voice breaks into fragments.

"Um, when they were painting that house red I think. Don't worry though! I'm sure they'll be back soon Mister, just like they promised!"

Crowley knew this side of town well because it was on the way to Aziraphale's house, and recalled they had painted that particular house red a year ago.

A year ago.

What in God's name had this child been through? From the size of a little girl she couldn't have been more than five or six years old.

The little girls face made him hurt so so much because she truly believed that her parents would come back to her even after a year of not being there for her. 365 days of fighting for herself alone just for the basic necessities to grow up; and some how she still had hope they were good people. It hurt that much more in that she reminded him of himself as an angel, naive and hopeful of God and the great plan she had for the universe. Her face held the same smile that Aziraphale had when he believed that Angels were good people. And by Satan and God did it hurt.

His pain fueled his rage and bitterness. Anger at the people who it forsaken the child. Bitterness for the world. Hatred for God and her holier than thou standard. His jaw clenched and fingers turned white from clenching so hard into his fist. Why had she forsaken him? Was he not good enough? Was it because he asked too many questions? God's prophet, Jesus had said time and time again that questioning was part of faith, so that really didn't make sense. The more he thought, the more none of the answers made any sense at all.

The only thing that seemed to make sense was the fact and desire and need to take (O/N) home and keep her safe. He decided he would do what no one else had done for him; he would be there, and he would protect her. He would take her home and answer all the questions she had without ever getting annoyed or angry.

No one deserves to be in trouble just for asking questions. 'It won't happen, not on my watch' he vowed.

He did not swear to God. He did not swear to Satan. Crowley sweard to the only thing that mattered to him, Aziraphale, that he would find a way to convince this little girl to go to his angel's bookshop with him and protect them from all harm.

And he did.

----------------------------------------------------------

*Flash forward*

His little girl grew up so fast. She wasn't little anymore. Heck, (Y/N) even a girl anymore.

It god was amazing when they came out. He was so fucking proud that his little thief was brave enough to question there own identity and gender through an incredible mental journey to find the words to represent who they where and had always been. He definitely was not crying when (Y/N) came out, even though Aziraphale had hallucinated and kept insisting that that's what happened.

They had grown into a fiercely independent young adult who had just finished education was pursuing the career of their dreams.

"Are you alright, dear?" An angel snapped him out of his thoughts, and he could have sworn his demonic heart stopped for a second.

"I'm alright, angel. I was just thinking about our little thief."

Aziraphale becomes a mother hen™ "Crowley! How meany times have I told you that they are so much more than a scoundrel who steals money in the night!"

"Angel, (Y/N) likes the nickname, and told me they like it several times!"

"Our starlight deserves a better name!"

Aziraphale had grown to love his starlight as much as he loved his wiley old serpent, with all of himself, truly, madly, and deeply. He read to (Y/N) every night, creating worlds and universes of words for his starlight to laugh and enjoy.

He took them to all his favorite restaurants, for sushi for brioche for crepes and even oysters to taste and try. Only the best for his starlight!

Both angel and demon become extremely serious and angry with one another for a few heartbeats.

Then, they burst out laughing together, unable to continue this silly argument any longer. Crowley falls over on the couch tackling his angel down with him.

They just lie there together completely unable to do anything but keep laughing together in pure unchecked joy.

Aziraphale and Crowley eventually get there giggles out, and hold one another in silence.

Aziraphale whispers softly into Crowley's ear: "I love you, my dear."

Crowley gives a half smirk half smile, "i fORgIvE yOu!"

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope!"

"Well, I suppose it's well deserved, but I want you to know that I really do love you more than books and oysters and crepes. I love you more than I can say with words."

"I know, angel. And I really do forgive you for whatever that word mess was. Can we go back to cuddleing?"

"Of course dear."

Crowley and Aziraphale had never felt more at peace with the world than they did with you since you entered their life. They where truly free from hell and heaven to be with one another happy.

They were truely free to be as they always wanted to be;

An Ineffable family.

#ineffable partners #ineffable husbands x reader #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #ineffable spouses #crowly x aziraphale #azirowley #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley good omens #crowly good omens #azicrow #good omens aziraphale #aziraphel #good omens x reader #good omens #good omens season 2 #crowley

67 notes · View notes

abiiors · 8 months

Text

canvas 🎨 // matty healy x reader

a/n: matty painter au because i have gone slightly insane idk. i love the interview these photos are from <33 got weirdly poetic with this i'm so sorry

the author heard "paint me like one of your french girls" and took it too far :)

cw: paint play???? cum play if you squint (yeah ik paint is toxic but these people are Very Horny)

wc: 3.4k

there are streaks of paint on her hips.

a smudge of yellow right under her navel, fingerprints of blue, touching, moving, caressing the apex of her thighs as they slowly morph into green and disappear somewhere between her legs.

she lounges lazily on the chaise, a bunch of red grapes dangling in her hands. when matty takes a break, she quickly pops one in her mouth. it bursts with a pop, grape juice pooling at the corner of her lips and sliding down, down, down. it disappears somewhere on her skin.

matty’s breath hitches and he digs his nails deeper into his palms.

“could you fold your leg a little more, please?” his voice sounds husky to his own ears.

“please?” she raises an eyebrow, “since when did you start being so polite?”

“since this is a professional relationship,” he grounds out through gritted teeth. instantaneous. he's not unfamiliar with this back and forth by now.

matty looks up at her once again and sees her eyes, alight with mirth, looking right at him. it’s a peculiar feeling, he realises, he wants her to never look away from him again but he is also about to spontaneously combust.

each stroke of the brush reveals more and more of her lithe body; the curve of her hips that dip into her waist, the soft velvet of the chaise bunched up under her shapely legs.

“eyes at the window, please,” he chastises gently. the thought of her dark gaze on him as he paints is too much to bear.

this is not the first time he has painted with a nude model alone, even a female nude model for that matter. in fact, matty prides himself on the fact that he’s a consummate professional, that he has never been sleazy with any of his nude models. but she seems intent on pushing all his buttons.

they had met a few months ago at a fancy tribeca bar. he had been celebrating his newest exhibition at a modest art gallery and she, the extension of her visa. they took to each other like moths to the brightest of flames. he soon learned that she was, like him, a starving artist. except her medium of art was her body. she had modelled for all kinds of designers all over nyc but she had yet to ‘make it’.

he still remembered the way the smoothness of the live jazz band had permeated through his bones. the old fashioneds he had been drinking had created a nice buzz when he had heard her order a dirty martini in a very distinct accent.

“come work for me,” he had said before the alcohol and drugs had consumed all rational thoughts. all that remained from that night were vague memories of red lips, fingers that trailed down his stomach and flashes of ecstasy. but now those same fingers rest in front of her abdomen, just inches away from where he wishes his head was. so matty has to swallow roughly and go back to his canvas.

the painting is nowhere near being finished. he has only just finished the outlining process a few days ago but the thought of being here in this cramped space with her is too much to bear. matty’s grip on his brush tightens involuntarily.

he mixes the colours on his easel carefully. matching the perfect shade of her skin is damn near an impossible task. there are shades of golden and then there is the pale hollow of her throat that he so desperately wants to mark up. how pretty she would look with a necklace of marks left by him. how her lips would part, sounds of ecstasy escaping, echoing in his studio, inside his skull for days.

the brush digs into his hands as his thoughts reach a crescendo. a loud cracking sound resonates through the room and her eyes snap to him once again; this time a startled expression on her face. but it doesn’t long before it morphs into one of amusement and slight smugness.

matty’s face pales when realisation dawns. he gripped the brush so tightly that it snapped in half. splinters of the wood dig into his fingers and he takes it as a welcome opportunity to walk up to the bin in the corner of the room.

anything to escape her dark and knowing gaze.

“everything okay with you?” she asks and he bristles at her tone, at the way she doesn’t even try to conceal her amusement.

“yes,” he has to clear his throat before he can speak again, “yes, perfectly fine.”

matty wants to set fire to the canvas in front of him.

or perhaps it’s the sweat that gathers at the back of his neck and runs down his back that’s making him feel so irate. it bothers him more than it should, her stare bothers him more than it should.

“window,” he reminds her through pursed lips. it’s better to use as few words as possible. that way they can get this done quickly and go home and he won’t have to think about her again till their next appointment…

but who is he kidding? matty knows she will be there, present in his waking and sleeping thoughts, burrowing herself in his brain, in its crevices like a permanent splotch of paint on his carpets.

“i told you to look at the window,’ he says. his voice is gruff and commanding.

“and i told you that i liked it better this way.” it’s a challenge—open and daring. her gaze refuses to leave him as she slowly gets to her feet.

matty freezes in place—it’s stupid, he knows it. he’s been staring at her naked body for hours now, memorising its contours and immortalising them on his canvas. watching her stand like this in front of him shouldn’t bother him. shouldn’t make his mouth go dry. the traces of paint between her legs beckon and taunt him. how easy it would be to worship her—first with his mouth and then with his hands.

how sweet would she taste, melting on his tongue?

“what are you…”

“let's take a break.” she stretches, fingers intertwining together as her arms lift high above her head. her eyes close in satisfaction, a soft sigh falling from her lips. the sun warms the room. the sight heats up his blood.

“your robe is on the table,” matty points to a corner of the room, averts his gaze with great difficulty. as expected, she smirks because to her it’s a cat-and-mouse game. and he’s her prey.

“why? does it bother you?”

footsteps pad softly towards him, the carpet rustles but he doesn’t stop her from walking to him. a small part of him likes knowing that the sway in her hips is for him. likes knowing that he haunts her thoughts just like she haunts his.

“no.”

lies. a rouge and traitorous thought slips through.

matty is sure she can feel his racing heartbeat when she stops right in front of him. their chests touch, separated only by his flimsy cotton t-shirt. the proximity makes him realise how he towers over her, how she has to tilt her head to look him in the eyes. it’s a rather pleasing angle on her. the red smudge on her lips drives him mad.

“tell me, matty,” her accent snags on his name as she flicks her eyes to his lips, “is this how professional relationships work here?”

she’s throwing his words back at him; teasing, taunting. her big eyes bore into his. matty’s cock twitches in response. the golden sun floods the room, illuminates everything in its path and he is once again struck by how beautiful she is. how much he yearns to hold her by the waist, to capture her mouth, to hear her soft sounds and loud moans. how much he yearns for her.

his thoughts are fuzzy. he’s not thinking straight, he hasn’t been ever since she’s walked into his life, in his studio. his brain short-circuited the moment she shed her soft silk dress, the moment he watched the straps fall down her shoulders and the fabric pool around her ankles.

he’s not thinking straight when he pulls her closer by her waist.

“no,” he breathes, eyes already fluttering shut as her scent hits his senses anew. “you’re just an exception.”

when their lips crash against each other, something comes alive in him. a missing piece of the puzzle, a colour he’s been trying to mix just right. his heart thumps in his chest to the beat of the song playing in the background. an old jazzy french tune that has been stuck in his head all day. something that reminds him of her, of the curve of her hips and the softness of her hair.

“matty,” she moans right in his mouth. his name on her tongue exploring the inside of his mouth. her skin feels slightly sticky with paint and sweat.

it feels like an out-of-body experience at first. the fingers caressing her jaw move so confidently leaving streaks of red in their wake. in an instant, he forgets about the painting.

the kisses are raw and hungry, bordering on feverish. matty’s table clutters when she pushes him against it, her naked body pressed flush against his. goosebumps litter all over his skin, electric tingles that shoot straight from her fingertips and zap through his bloodstream.

“say you want me,” she all but moans. “i know you do. i see–fuck, i see how you look at me.”

matty smirks at the way she almost loses her train of thought as soon as he nips at her skin. it’s the hollow of her throat that’s been driving him crazy—unmarred and soft. his teeth graze her pulse point, leaving behind soft pink marks that he soothes with his tongue.

“i want you,” he licks over another bruise. “so bad—can’t think straight sweetheart.”

and it’s true, it’s never taken him this long to finish a painting before. hours of staring at her and he still can’t seem to get enough of it.

“so fuck me then.” her head is thrown back at this point. her voice is distant to matty’s ears, still he hears the lust in it. the want. and it fuels his own.

she is art, he thinks. she should be his masterpiece. an idea forms in his head, bright as a star, a vision he sees so clearly. or it’s just hallucinations of a horny brain. either way, he breaks away from the kiss, grasping at her jaw roughly.

“get on the canvas,” he commands. and she obeys without hesitation.

“on your back. and lie still.” even with his dominant side, there is a softness to matty and so she does as she’s told.

he has to stop and marvel at the sight—she’s a vision on his half-finished painting of her, hair fanning out in unruly waves, nipples hardened. she comes alive under his stare, smiling smugly at matty’s unabashedness, at the way his eyes linger—first on the swell of her breasts to the curve of her waist and between her legs where wetness gathers the more excited she gets. she wants him to touch her, whines for it even. and he wants to give her what she wants. but not so easily. not like the first time when both of them were too drunk to appreciate each other’s bodies.

this time he wants to remember. more than that, he wants to make it memorable.

he dips both his hands in a dish full of paint, pink on the right, grey on the left. matty settles on his knees, right between her legs, parting them further with his paint-stained hands. the colours mix with the preexisting streaks on her body, greys with greens and pinks with yellows. matty’s mind swims with possibilities.

“what are you waiting for?” she tuts, hooking her legs around his waist. paint sticks to his trousers. colour blooms high on his cheeks.

when matty bends to capture her breast in his mouth, she gasps sharply. he’s briefly aware of the coolness of the paint that’s now on his stomach, a new shade of pink that morphs into something else the more they move against each other.

“i never knew you made such pretty sounds,” he praises, tongue moving between her breasts from one nipple to another. he smirks when her legs tighten around him.

“keep doing more of that,” she pants, “and i’ll give you any sounds you want.”

matty chuckles, mouth moving lower. now that he’s started, it’s impossible to stop or slow down. his hands trace the length of her thigh, smudging the old colours on smooth skin, mixing them with new ones as he traces a finger up to the apex. she squirms under him, hips thrusting into his.

she’s soaking wet and panting; practically dripping onto the canvas. it’s mesmerising to him, how her cheek presses against the white surface, leaves behind hypnotic patterns.

her fingers are on the column of his spine, nails scratching softly as she traces his skin. matty feels himself growing harder, head spinning as all his blood rushes south. he wants her, he needs to feel her, to be inside her.

“such a good little pet,” he mumbles against her mouth, lips capturing hers in a searing kiss till she’s writhing under him and clenching around nothing.

“please, matty,” she begs. her hands move faster, fumbling with his belt. she all but rips it off him as desperation and instinct take over. matty watches transfixed.

the ruby red of her swollen lips, the silvery sheen on her face. the necklace of mottled mauves he’s left around her throat—it’s prettier than anything he could have come up with himself.

“beautiful,” he whispers on the shell of her ear and feels her shiver under him.

the sound of his zipper tears through the room. matty hisses with pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as she palms him—first over his boxers, then playing with the waistband.

“touch me,” he pleads, unable to help himself, and watches her pull his cock out.

matty loses himself in the feeling of her hands wrapped around him, the way she rakes her nails down his length, traces the vein pulsating along the side. his stomach tightens with pleasure.

“please,” she whines again, “need you in me, please.”

and this time he obliges, lining himself against her entrance. he moves his hand between their bodies, finding her clit and rubbing the bundle of nerves in circles. their bodies are so close that matty only needs to bend down to kiss her again. but he stays where he is, tip teasing her entrance, fingers flicking her clit. he wants to watch her fall apart under him, around his cock, again and again.

“like toying with me, do you?” she wraps a hand around his base, lining his dick against her entrance properly. matty knows she can take charge if she wants to but he’s not about to let that happen. not today.

“someone’s needy,” he tuts. in truth, he loves her needy whines, her desperation and at last matty gives her what she wants.

he thrusts into her slowly, fingers still rubbing her clit at a steady pace. his other hand is next to her face, leaving behind smudges of pink in the vague shape of his palm. her eyes are rolled back her head, mouth parted—the room echoes with soft sounds.

“harder–shit,” she moans. “please…”

“begging is a good look for you,” he whispers cheekily. the primal, male part of him can’t help itself.

matty rocks into her, bottoming out again and again.

“so tight baby, so wet for me,” he gasps as his thrusts come faster. she trembles under his touch again, letting out a string of curses. matty can tell she’s close as she clenches around his cock again and again.

her nails rake down his back, on his shoulders, leaving behind scratches and cuts but none of them particularly care about it. all matty cares about are her moans and cries, the way she says his name again and again.

“gonna cum,” she pants, “go faster, please–please.”

so matty does; grabbing her hips, he thrusts into her over and over again, increases his pace to the point where it’s bruises. filthy sounds of flesh slapping on flesh fill the room, moans from them both. matty loses track of time, of his surrounding, until he feels her clench around his cock and let go with a cry.

“so pretty,” he coos and can’t help but trace a finger down her nose, along her bottom lip. “such a good girl for me.”

“come on pretty girl, i know you can cum for me one more time.” her pretty little whimpers shoot straight to his cock as he goes faster still. “you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me.”

“made for you,” she repeats, “ye–yes. go faster. shit.”

matty groans when she wraps her legs around his waist. it’s sudden, between one thrust and the next he’s suddenly reaching deeper than he was before. they both cry out as intense pleasure swirls in matty’s belly.

he’s close, he can feel it. he just wants to coax one more orgasm out of her, watch her fall apart one more time. he wants to bottle up the noises she makes, for his ears only.

his pelvis grinds on her clit, rougher than before. the intensity of it is blinding. the fire runs right under his skin, ready to consume everything in its path and burn him in ecstasy.

“you can cum for me again, yeah? let go, darling,” he coaxes, and lowers his mouth to hers again, swallowing away her moans and cries. matty runs his tongue on her bottom lip, nipping at the corner of her mouth.

her face is wet with tears of pleasure. he knows she’s overstimulated, struggling to keep up with him but she cries out again. a sob rips out from her as matty feels her cumming around him again, legs twitching as he fucks her through her orgasm.

their sweaty skin sticks together, rubbing against each other and mixing paints. but matty knows what he wants, knows how to finish the final piece of his art.

“iie still now,” he commands, “gonna cum on your pretty tits. you want that?”

“please,” she nods vigorously, hissing when he pulls out of her in one go. her back arches off the canvas, fingers curling on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. he’s marked forever.

matty fists himself, once, twice, head thrown back as he cries out her name. he feels his cock twitch one last time, balls tightening until he’s spurting out thick white ropes of cum all over her tits, her stomach. it pools in her navel and puts a sheen of milky white on the paint. matty watches, mesmerised.

he’s never felt this perverse satisfaction before. this much primal possessiveness.

“fuck–fuck, matty,” she breathes hard, eyes still closer and hands in her hair as she comes down from her high.

matty can’t help himself as he places a finger in the mess he’s made. he traces it in arbitrary shapes, swirls and lines, mixing colours and spreading his sticky release on her until his fingers reach her jaw.

cheekily, she opens her mouth. an invitation—the desire to taste him written all over her face. so matty obliges, moaning when she swirls her tongue around his fingers, sucking them cleaning. her cheeks hollow from the effort of it. for a moment he feels like putty in her hands until she lets go of his fingers with an exaggerated pop.

“like seeing me like this?” her voice is hoarse but the tone is still smug. like a cat that got the cream. “covered in you, naked. do i look pretty?”

matty rolls his eyes, “got what you wanted, didn’t you?” and watches her flutter her eyelashes. and she does. look pretty that is. she looks like a masterpiece. his masterpiece.

“i always do,” she grins, hooking her arms around his neck to sit up. matty watches the cum run down her chest.

“clean me up?” she asks sweetly, “and then we can look at the art we made.”

#the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy x y/n #matty x reader #matty x you #matty healy smut #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic #the 1975 smut #smut writing #minors do not interact #matty healy au #female reader

276 notes · View notes